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44
The Vicar of Wakefield.

­chen to a room over-head, and I soon perceiv­ed by the loudness of her voice, and the bit­terness of her reproaches, that no money was to be had from her lodger. I could hear her remonstrances very distinctly: "Out I say, pack out this moment, tramp thou infa­mous strumpet, or I'll give thee a mark thou won't be the better for this three months. What! you trumpery, to come and take up an honest house, without cross or coin to bless yourself with; come along I say."—"O dear madam," cried the stranger, "pity me, pity a poor abandoned creature for one night, and death will soon do the rest."—I instant­ly knew the voice of my poor ruined child Olivia. I flew to her rescue, while the woman was dragging her along by the hair, and caught the dear forlorn wretch in my arms.—"Welcome, any way welcome, my dearest lost one, my treasure, to your poor old father's bosom. Tho' the vici­ous forsake thee, there is yet one in theworld