The old man Pottiswick, still grumbling, much to Melusine’s disgust, had gone on his errand to his daughter’s house some two miles distant. Mountains out of molehills and armies out of windmills; and you'll tire yourself in one direction and shatter yourself in the other. You'll tell me next, I dare say, that I recommended you to go and visit his mother so frequently under the plea of charity; to give her wine, and provisions, and money; to remove her from the only fit quarters for such people —the Mint; and to place her in a cottage at Willesden, of which you must needs pay the rent? Marry, come up! charity should begin at home. Tell me a story—with apple-blossoms in it—about people who are happy. “I am off to-night,” he said.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 30-09-2024 01:17:40