***** Coconuts grew perpetually. "Taber," said the manager; "Taber is the name. The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. Infested by every description of vagabond and miscreant, it was, perhaps, a few degrees worse than the rookery near Saint Giles's and the desperate neighbourhood of Saffron Hill in our own time.
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