CANTO XXII.

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Mr. Hunt takes his way down a long declivity up which the blinding steam hurries “as a blizzard sweeps up a prairie slope.” Here he looks out over the vast territory where the professional tramps are made miserable. They are compelled to submit to everlasting baths in vats of boiling water.

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THE PROFESSIONAL TRAMPS.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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