” “I hope,” he answered, looking at her in some surprise, “that we shall have many more such to think about. When the turnkey, next morning, stepp'd into his room, The sight of the hole in the wall struck him dumb; The sheriff's black bracelets lay strewn on the ground, But the lad that had worn 'em could nowhere be found. To hand the key back in silence was like offering a lie. You are an artist by the Divine right of birth, but whatever form of expression may come to you at some time it will not be painting.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 18-09-2024 19:04:13
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