” “It astonishes me that I don’t,” said Manning, in a tone of intense selfenjoyment. He was a bad dog; he knew it perfectly; but where there was laughter, there was hope. The Northern Ocean keeps a secret better than the Thames, Sir Rowland. There was no railway beyond Frutigen in those days; they sent their baggage by post to Kandersteg, and walked along the mule path to the left of the stream to that queer hollow among the precipices, Blau See, where the petrifying branches of trees lie in the blue deeps of an icy lake, and pine-trees clamber among gigantic boulders. Oh, what’s his name? It’s on the tip of my tongue. ” He reeled out of the room. ’ ‘Sir!’ came from Trodger, and the booted feet clattered off and out of the front door.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 23-09-2024 18:03:35