1 That young man hears the words I speak.
2 I find it wery hard to hold that young man off of your inside.
3 It is in wain for a boy to attempt to hide himself from that young man.
4 I looked all round for the horrible young man, and could see no signs of him.
5 There's a young man hid with me, in comparison with which young man I am a Angel.
6 I am a keeping that young man from harming of you at the present moment, with great difficulty.
7 I tell you what, young fellow," said she, "I didn't bring you up by hand to badger people's lives out.
8 That young man has a secret way pecooliar to himself, of getting at a boy, and at his heart, and at his liver.
9 I felt that I must have something in reserve for my dreadful acquaintance, and his ally the still more dreadful young man.
10 Cribbed and barred and moored by massive rusty chains, the prison-ship seemed in my young eyes to be ironed like the prisoners.
11 The voice returned, "Quite right," and the window was shut again, and a young lady came across the court-yard, with keys in her hand.
12 Since that time, which is far enough away now, I have often thought that few people know what secrecy there is in the young under terror.
13 When my ablutions were completed, I was put into clean linen of the stiffest character, like a young penitent into sackcloth, and was trussed up in my tightest and fearfullest suit.
14 Under the weight of my wicked secret, I pondered whether the Church would be powerful enough to shield me from the vengeance of the terrible young man, if I divulged to that establishment.
15 A boy may lock his door, may be warm in bed, may tuck himself up, may draw the clothes over his head, may think himself comfortable and safe, but that young man will softly creep and creep his way to him and tear him open.
16 For the fugitive out on the marshes with the ironed leg, the mysterious young man, the file, the food, and the dreadful pledge I was under to commit a larceny on those sheltering premises, rose before me in the avenging coals.
17 As I saw him go, picking his way among the nettles, and among the brambles that bound the green mounds, he looked in my young eyes as if he were eluding the hands of the dead people, stretching up cautiously out of their graves, to get a twist upon his ankle and pull him in.
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