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"Is it possible, Miss, that you don't know the names of some of your best friends?" "Certainly — I do not know even what my own may be in a year from this time." "Is it very sickly here?" said a son of the Emerald Isle the other day, to another. "Yes," replied his companion, "a great many have died this year who never died before." "Columbiad, the Gun of the Ocean," is Vanity Fair's song for the naval artillery.
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