pubOne.info present you this new edition. My story opens in the classic presinks of Bostin. In the parler of a bloated aristocratic mansion on Bacon street sits a luvly young lady, whose hair is cuvered ore with the frosts of between 17 Summers. She has just sot down to the piany, and is warblin the popler ballad called "e;Smells of the Notion, "e; in which she tells how, with pensiv thoug...