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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. A scene now ensued, highly characteristic of the age, and the occasion. “Dear me!” he said. With something near to horror they found themselves thus confronted.

Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ5LjIzNC4xODggLSAyMi0wOS0yMDI0IDE4OjI5OjA2IC0gMTA2NzE5NDkyNQ==

This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 22-09-2024 00:52:06

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