To view this video please enable JavaScript, and consider upgrading to a web browser that supports HTML5 video
The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. The man pulled up his horse grumbling, and turned round. I forget.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIxOS4yMjguODggLSAzMC0wOS0yMDI0IDA0OjI1OjAzIC0gMTc5MjY3OTc1Mg==
This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 26-09-2024 07:22:35