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No sooner had they entered the room than Sharples, who
waited to usher them in, hastily retreated, closed the door, and turning the key,
laughed loudly at the success of his stratagem. Already the warm sun was drawing from the pines their delicious odour. "Shall I never banish those horrible phantoms from my couch—the
father with his bleeding breast and dripping hair!—the mother with her wringing
hands and looks of vengeance and reproach!—And must another be added to
their number—their son! Horror!—let me be spared this new crime! And yet the
gibbet—my name tarnished—my escutcheon blotted by the hangman!—No, I
cannot submit to that. Women! He is
always chanting the praise of some discovery; sometimes it will be a native,
often a white woman out of the stews. The man himself
was not a pleasant object. With his
gimblet he contrived to bore a number of holes so close together that at last one
end of the bar, being completely pierced through, yielded; and pursuing the same
with the other extremity, it fell out altogether.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 30-06-2024 05:16:40