She had pushed
aside her azure veil, taken off her snow-glasses, and sat smiling under her hand
at the shining glories—the lit cornices, the blue shadows, the softly rounded,
enormous snow masses, the deep places full of quivering luminosity—of the
Taschhorn and Dom. Some one had once, in his hearing, called him a prig. "Mistress!" said the apprentice, making a final appeal to Mrs. He wouldn’t like it if people did
it to him. Beneath these prints, a cluster of hobnails, driven into the wall, formed certain
letters, which, if properly deciphered, produced the words, "Paul Groves,
cobler;" and under the name, traced in charcoal, appeared the following record
of the poor fellow's fate, "Hung himsel in this rum for luv off licker;"
accompanied by a graphic sketch of the unhappy suicide dangling from a beam. And if you
mean that he may have reconciled himself with his own father, you waste your
breath. How she had hated it!… All these
mumblings which were never explained, which carried no more sense to her
brain than they would have carried to Old Morgan's swearing parrot. After this occurence, not a word was exchanged between them until they came in
sight of the sloop, which was lying at anchor off Wapping. His vocal collection comprised a couple of flash
songs pasted against the wall, entitled 'The Thief-Catcher's Prophecy,' and the
'Life and Death of the Darkman's Budge;' while his extraordinary mechanical
skill was displayed in what he termed (Jack had a supreme contempt for
orthography,) a 'Moddle of his Mas.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 28-06-2024 12:48:38