"It was given me by poor dear Mrs. "Hark 'ee, Ben," said the old sailor, knocking the ashes from his pipe upon the hob; "you may try, but dash my timbers if you'll ever cross the Thames to-night. “You are mistaken, David. Let me have more light, that I may behold him. I have a hundred of them—mixed blood—on my island, and they are always rooking me.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 12-09-2024 00:57:10
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