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Of all the lions that ever existed, painted or otherwise, white lions,

blue lions, black, green, or red lions, surely never was there one

like the "White Lion" at Tenterden For he was such a reh precariously balanced upon the extreme point

of one claw, and he stared down at all and sundry with such round,

inquiring eyes, as much as to say: "Who are you? What's your father? Where are you going?" Indeed, so

very inquisitive was he that his very tail had writhed itself into a

note of interrogation, and, like a certain historical personage, was

forever asking a question To-night he had singled out Barnabas fro him with questions, as: "Dark or fair? Tall or short? Does she love you? Will she remember

you? Will she kiss you--next ti a touch upon his arm, Barnabas turned to find

Peterby at his elbow, and thus once more became aware of the hubbub

about him

"Box seat, sir; next to the coach, horses snorting and sta there, and swearing everywhere; waiters and

serving- to and fro, and all is hurry and bustle,

for the night mail is on the eve of departure for London