"You'll not forget the thousand, Sir Rowland—short accounts, you know. At the same moment a martial flourish, proceeding from cow's horns, tin canisters filled with stones, bladders and cat-gut, with other sprightly, instruments, was struck up, and, enlivened by this harmonious accompaniment, the troop reached its destination in the best possible spirits for an encounter. He gave an order, the proa was floated and the sail run up. With this view he struck off into a narrow street on the left, and soon entered a small alehouse, over the door of which hung the sign of the "Welsh Trumpeter. You're in luck to-night, widow.
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This video was uploaded to fairlopwaters.info on 01-07-2024 16:15:43
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