Quilt Arnold was stationed at the stair-head, near which the boat containing the captive boy was moored. It was a night of storm and terror, which promised each moment to become more stormy and more terrible. His features were regular, and finely-formed; his complexion bright and blooming,—a little shaded, however, by travel and exposure to the sun; and, with a praiseworthy contempt for the universal and preposterous fashion then prevailing, of substituting a peruke for the natural covering of the head, he allowed his own dark-brown hair to fall over his shoulders in ringlets as luxuriant as those that distinguished the court gallant in Charles the Second's days—a fashion, which we do not despair of seeing revived in our own days. Gravely he placed them in his aunt's hand. I ought never to have thought of it. The reply he received this time put him into a state of continuous bewilderment. It isn’t the same thing.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 17-09-2024 03:15:17
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