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huts. In the gardens and hedges beautiful ticipated. It is worth adding, that artificial colours are still peeping for the eye that flowers were never, perhaps, so well made seeks them : among flowers,—the cyclamen, as they are now, and that they may be put hazel-wort, the crocus or saffron flower that in pots and glasses like real ones, or hung up died the garments of Aurora and Hymen, in wreaths and crowns over pictures, doorthe perriwinkle, the polyanthus, yellow. ways, or the middle of a pier, where they aconite, Alpine alysson, anemone, hellebore, form at once a summer picture of their own, the fiery glow of the wall-flower, the snow. a memorial of classical times, and a beauti. drop, with its little tints of green, and the ful contrast to the squareness of the comprimrose or rose of the prime :-among partment. It was pleasantly said by sometrees and shrubs, the Glastonbury-thorn, body, on seeing a real rose after one of these whose flourishing at Christmas used to be manufactured ones, -- Very lovely, indeed! counted miraculous, laurustinus with its de. It is almost as good as artificial.' licate clumps of white, laureola or spurge- “ Those who cultivate a few flowers for laurel, pyracantha, arbutus or strawberry- their particular amusement (we do not of tree, a favourite with Virgil, which looks course address ourselves to gardeners) should like strawberries growing on a bay, and the now occasionally take in their best ranuncualaternus, which Englishmen in gratitude luses, and protect their choice carnations, should call the Evelyn, after that excellent hyacinths, and tulips, with hoops, inats, or rural patriot who first • had the honour,' glasses. It is time also, in mild dry weahe says, to bring it into use and reputation ther, to plant ranunculuses, anemones, tu. in this kingdom, and propagated it from lips, and bulbous flowers ; and for early Cornwall even to Cumberland.'. Then, as blowing, crocuses, and snow-drops. The to berries, what can be desired beyond the bulbous flowers in glasses within doors holly alone, which made this friend of Cowley should have their water kept clean ; and it burst out into a poetical rapture. • We is better for all flowers in a house to have as still dress up both our churches and houses,' much light and sunshine as possible, which says he, on Christmas and other festival some of them seem absolutely to yearn and days, with its cheerful green, and rutilunt strain after. berries. Is there under heaven a more glo. “ But the very frost itself is a world of rious and refreshing object of the kind, than pleasure and fairy beauty. The snow danan impregnable hedge of about four hundred ces down to earth, tilling all the airy vacanfoot in length, nine foot high, and five in cy with a giddy whiteness ; and minutely indiameter, which I can now shew in my spected, every particle is a chrystal star, the ruined gardens at Say's Court (thanks to the delight perhaps of myriads of invisible eyes. Czar of Muscovy) at any time of the year. The ice (hereafter destined to temper <ul. glittering with its armed and varnished cet creams' for us in the heat of summer) leaves, the taller standards at orderly dis- affords a new and rare pastime for the skaitances, blushing with their natural coral ?' ter, almost next to flying; or suddenly suc

* But what was thought enchantment in ceeding to rain, strikes the trees and the old times, may be practised now by every grasses into silver. But what can be more body who chuses to force flowers. These delicately beautiful than the spectacle which may be had all the winter-time, though they sometimes salutes the eye at the breakfastare best in every respect where they can be room window, occasioned by the hoar-frost taken care of in a green-house, or seen or frozen dew? If a jeweller had come to through a glass partition at the end of a dress every plant over night to surprise an large room, as in some of the houses of the Eastern sultan, he could not produce any rich. The truth is, that many flowers in a thing like the pearly drops,' or the silroom are not wholesome, unless they can very plumage.' An ordinary bed of greens, have air and light to enable them to give to those who are not at the mercy of their out properly that oxygen or vital air, which own vulgar associations, will sometimes look they exhale in genial situations during the like crisp and corrugated emerald, powdered day-time. During the night, they are al- with diamonds. ways unwholesome, as they throw out hy- “ Under the apparent coldness of the snow, drogen and absorb the oxygen. And yet the herbaceous plants, which die down to perhaps our excessively artificial and in-door the root in autumn, lie nourishing their habits, in helping to enervate us, render un shoots for the spring. Nor is much done wholesome what would be otherwise percep by the animal creation, man included, tible only as a pleasure. At all events, a during this period. Many birds and rep. few flowers on a shelf, such as hyacinths tiles make a long night-time of the hard and jonquils, can do no harm, and are very season, and are awake only in finer weabeautiful with their curling or down-looking ther. The domestic cattle are mostly lodged buds, and their ivory, roots seen through the in the homestead. The farmer lops and water. The rest of the flowers that may be cuts timber, mends thorn hedges, and draws forced in winter are lilacs, lilies of the val. manure to his fields. Many trades, espeley (an exquisite intermixture of leaves and cially those connected with water, are at a bells), mignonette or the little darling, stand during the frost. The thresher's pinks, polyanthus narcissus, roses, tulips, time is the merriest as well as most in. and violets ; in fact, a whole summer an. dustrious, for he works away his fail in

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the barn. In the merrier days of our an. The lasses in the gardens
cestors, it was customary for every village With rosiness and lightsomeness

Shew forth their heads of hair,
and town-hall to have its great top, which A chasing here and there;
the poorer inhabitants emulated each other And then they'll hear the birds, and stand,

And shade their eyes with lifted hand.
in lashing, a practice well worth revival.
For those of the wealthier classes, who

And then again they're off there,

As if their lovers came,
can afford leisure (and all could if they with giddiness and gladsomeness,
were wise), walking or riding, according

Like doves but newly tame;

Ah ! light your cheeks at Nature, do,
as the surface of the earth permits, is so

And draw the whole world after you.
much healthy wine to the blood. A good
dinner, well earned, will then do no harm;

Two Sonnets, with the signature I., and then again the long snug evening re- we opine to be the property of the turns, with the “ sopha wheeled round,” Muse's Son of Promise, two and the “ curtains" down; or balls and feats of Johnny Keates.” We cannot theatres invite them to hurry betwixt house be mistaken of them. Whatever be and house the one sending them with per- the name of the supposed fatherfect digestion to sleep, or the other help- Tims or Tomkins—Johnny Keates ing to remind them of the common rights

gignated these sonnets. To each of of humanity, a lesson now peculiarly sea

them we may say, sonable. If the farmer thinks it his duty, as well as his interest, to take care of his Sleep image of thy Father, sleep my Boy!” very cattle, and see them well housed, how

As we

are anxious to bring this much more incumbent is it upon the rich

young writer into notice, we quote his to look after their poor fellow-creatures,

and see what can be done to secure them
the common necessaries of “ meat, clothes,

and fire.” Let those who give no pleasure Four seasons fill the measure of the year;
be assured, that their toils and possessions are

There are four seasons in the mind of man; in vain, for they can receive none ;-no!

He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear

Takes in all beauty with an easy span: and least of all from Nature, notwithstand- He has his Summer, when luxuriously ing her ever-ready and exuberant treasures.

Spring's honied cud of youthful thought he loves

To ruminate, and by such dreaming nigh
The poetry is by Mr Hunt, Mr His nearest unto heaven : quiet coves
Shelly, Mr Cornwall, and (ni fallor)

His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings

He furleth close; contented so to look by Mr Keates. Mr Hunt's contribu- On mists in idleness-to let fair things tions are entitled “ Power and Gen

Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook.

He has his Winter too of pale misfeature, tleness,” and “The Summer of 1818.” Or else he would forego his mortal nature. The first has some picturesque lines in it, but is unendurably Cockneyish, and

SONNET TO AJLSA ROCK at times unintelligible to the exist- Hearken, thou craggy ocean pyramid!

Give answer from thy voice, the sea fowls' ing race of man; as, for example, Eagles on their rocks

When were thy shoulders mantled in huge With straining feet, and that fierce mouth and drear,

streams? Answering the strain with downward drag austere. When, from the sun, was thy broad forehead hid? Does the last of these lines describe

How long is't since the mighty power bid

Thee heave to airy sleep from fathom dreams? the Spread Eagle Coach going down Sleep in the lap of thunder or sunbeams, hill with the wheel locked?

Or when grey clouds are thy cold coverlid.

Thou answer'st not, for thou art dead asleep; mer in 1818,” is, on the whole, really

Thy life is but two dead amiable and pretty—though there is The last in air, the former in the deep;

First with the whales, last with the eagle-skies something risible in the poet's mouth

Drown'd wast thou till an earthquake made thee
watering at the future dessert of steep,
plums and pears—and his flirtation

Another cannot wake thy giant size.
in the garden has something about it
rather Miss-Molly-ish. Here it is.

The first of these compositions is

very well—a common and hackneyed The months we used to read of

thought is illustrated in a novel and Are come to us again,

also natural manner and we thank With sunniness and sunniness And rare delights of rain;

Mr Keates for his sonnet. But who The lark is up, and says aloud,

but himself could form a collocation East and west I see no cloud. The lanes are full of roses,

of words to produce such portentous The fields are grassy deep;

folly as in the second ? Mister John The leafiness and floweriness Make one abundant heap;

Keates standing on the sea-shore at
The balmy blossom-breathing airs

Dunbar, without a neckcloth, accord-
Smell of future plums and pears.
The sunshine at our waking

ing to custom of Cockaigne, and crossIs still found smiling by;

questioning the Craig of Ailsa !
With beamingness and earnestness,
Like some beloved eye ;

• " Thou answerest not for thou art dead asleep!"
And all the day it seems to take
Delight in being broad awake.

This reminds us of an exclamation


* Sum


in an ode lately submitted to our To stay thy car upon the Latmos hill,

Touch with a clouded hand thy look of light; perusal by an ingenious and modest

Nor elemental blight young man, in which, about half way Mar the rich beauties of thy hyacinthine hair. down, he exclaims, as if prophetically, Queen of the tumbling floods! oh lend thine ear

READER AWAKE!” There is much --Fright not the Halcyon from her watery nest, smartness in the idea of “ two dead When on the scarcely-moving waves she sits

Listening-sore distrest eternities.” An eternity especially, Lest that the winds, in sullen fits, past with whales, is enough to make

Should come, and lift the curling seas on high :

-Yet, if the storm must come-then Dian ! then the stoutest reader blubber. Do not let Scatter the billows from the Delphic shore, John Keates think we dislike him.

And bid the monsters of the deep go roar

In those far foreign caves
He is a young man of some poetry; Sicilian, where the ocean raves

For ever, (dug, 'tis said, by giant men but at present he has not more than

Beneath Pelorus’ rugged promontory.) about a dozen admirers, Mr Leigh On thy white altar we Hunt whom he feeds on the oil-cakes Lavish in fond idolatry.

Herbs and sweet flowers such as the summer uses: of flattery till he becomes flatulent

Some that in wheaton fields of praise, -Mr Benjamin Haydon, Lift their red bells amidst the golden grain :

Some that the moist earth yields, who used to laugh at him till that fa- Beneath the shadows of those pine trees high, mous sonnet-three engrossing clerks Which, branching, shield the far Thessalian and six or seven medical students, From the fierce anger of Apollo's eyewho chaunt portions of Endymion as

And some that Delphic swains

Pluck by the silver springs of Castalythey walk the hospitals, because the Yet, there—thus it is said the wanton Muses, author was once an apothecary. We

Their dark and tangled locks adorning,

Lie stretch'd on green slopes 'neath the laurel alone like him and laugh at him. boughs, He is at present a very amiable, silly, And the they Suun thee throʻ the livelong night,

weave garlands lisping, and pragmatical young gentle- Bend their blue eyes before the God of morning, man-but we hope to cure him of all

And hail with shouts his first return of light.-) that-and should have much pleasure Before whose moony brown,

Now and for ever hail, great Dian !--Thou, in introducing him to our readers in a The rolling planets die, or lose their fires, year or two speaking the language of And all the bravery of Heaven retires

-There, Saturn dimly turns within his ring, this country, counting his fingers cor- And Jove looks pale upon his burning throne; rectly, and condescending to a neckcloth. There, the great hunter-king

Orion, mourns with watery glare, Why should Leigh Hunt and John The tarnish'd lustre of his blazing zoneKeates have a higher opinion of them

Thou only through the blue and starry air,

In unabated beauty rid'st along, selves, than Barry Cornwall? One Companion’d by our song 66 dramatic seene"-even the very

Turn hither, then, thy clear and stedfast smile,

To grace our humble welcoming, tainest and most imitative of them all And free the poet's brain is worth both “ The two dead Eter

From all but that so famous pain,

Which sometimes, at the still midnight, nities” of the Cockneys.

We now

Stirs his creative fancyings, while,

(Charm'd by thy silver light) charge Barry Cornwall, coram popu- He strives, not vainly then, his sweetest song to lo, with the following hymn to Diana.

sing. It is classical, without being pedantic. It would greatly amuse us, to meet HYMN TO DIANA.

in company together Johnny Keates Dian !-We seek thee in this tranquil hour; and Percy Bysshe Shelly,--and as they We call thee by thy names of power ;

are both friends of Mr Leigh Hunt, Lucina ! first-(that tender name divine, Which young and travail'd dames adore and fear;) we do not despair of witnessing the Child of the dark-brow'd Proserpine ! Star-crowned Dian! Daughter of Jove

conjunction of these planets on HampOlympian! Mother of blind Love!

stead Hill, when we visit London in Fair Cynthia ! Towered Cybele ! Lady of stainless chastity!

spring. A bird of paradise and a Bend low thy listening ear,

Friezeland fowl would not look more And smile upon us, now the long day's toil, absurdly, on the same perch. Hear Beautiful queen! is done, And from the withering sun

with what a deep voice of inspiration Save thou and bless the perch'd and fainting soil ;

Shelly speaks.
So may thy silver shafts ne'er miss their aim,
But strike the heart of every bounding fawn;

And not a nymph of thine e'er lose her fame
By loitering in the beechen glades;

A pale dream came to a Lady fair,
Or standing, with her mantle haif undrawn,

And said, a boon, a boon, I pray!

I know the secrets of the air,
Like hearkening Silence, near the skirting shades
Of forests, where the cloven satyrs lie

And things are lost in the glare of day,

Which I can make the sleeping see,
Sleeping with upward face, or piping musically.

If they will put their trust in me.
Oh! smile upon us Dian! smile as thou
Art wont, 'tis said, at times to look upon

And thou shalt know of things unknown,
Thy own pale boy, Endymion,

If thou will let me rest between When calm he slumbers on the mountain's brow : The veiny lids, whose fringe is thrown And may no doubt, not care,

Over thine eyes so dark and sheen: When thou shalt wish, on nights serene and And half in hope, and half in fright, still

The lady closed her eyes so bright.

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At first, all deadly shapes were driven

The plank whereon that Lady sate
Tumultuously across her sleep,

Was driven thro’ the chasms about and about,
And o'er the vast cope of bending heaven

Between the peaks so desolate
All ghastly-visaged clouds did sweep;

Of the drowning mountains in and out

As the thistle beard on a whirlwind sails
And the Lady ever looked to spy
If the golden sun shone forth on high.

While the flood was filling those hollow vales.
And as towards the east she turned,

At last her plank an eddy crost,
She saw aloft in the morning air,

And bore her to the city's wall,
Which now with hues of sunrise burned,

Which now the flood had reached almost;
A great black anchor rising there;

It might the stoutest heart appal
And wherever the lady turned her eyes.

To hear the fire roar and hiss
It hung before her in the skies.

Thro' the domes of those mighty palaces.
The sky was as blue as the summer sea,

The eddy whirl'd her round and round
The depths were cloudless over head,

Before a gorgeous gate, which stood
The air was calm as it could be,

Piercing the cloud of smoke, which bound
There was no sight or sound of dread,

Its aery arch with light like blood;
But that black anchor floating still

She look'd on that gate of marble clear
Over the piny eastern hill.

With wonder that extinguish'd fear.
The lady grew sick with a weight of fear,

For it was filled with sculptures rarest
To see that Anchor ever hanging,

Of forms most beautiful and strange,
And veiled her eyes; she then aid hear

Like nothing human, but the fairest
The sound as of a din low clanging,

Of winged shapes, whose legions range
And looked abroad if she might know

Throughout the sleep of those that are,
Was it aught else, or but the flow

Like this same Lady, good and fair.
Of the blood in her own veins to and fro.
There was a mist in the sunless air,

And as she looked, still lovelier grew

Those marble forms ;---the sculptor sure
Which shook as it were with an earthquake's

Was a strong spirit, and the hue

Of his own mind did there endure
But the very weeds that blossomed there

After the touch, whose power had braided
Were moveless, and each mighty rock

Such grace, was in some sad change faded.
Stood on its basis stedfastly ;
The Anchor was seen no more on high.

She looked, the flames were dim, the flood

Grew tranquil as a woodland river
But piled around, with summits hid
In lines of cloud at intervals,

Winding thro' hills in solitude ;

Those marble shapes then seemed to quiver,
Stood many a mountain pyramid,

And their fair limbs to float in motion,
Among whose everlasting walls

Like weeds unfolding in the ocean.
Two mighty cities shone, and ever
Thro' the red mist their domes did quiver.

And their lips moved ;-one seemed to speak,
On two dread mountains, from whose crest,

When suddenly the mountains crackt,

And thro' the chasm the flood did break
Might seem, the eagle, for her brood,
Would ne'er have hung her dizzy nest,

With an earth-uplifting cataract :

The statues gave a joyous scream,
Those tower-encircled cities stood.
A vision strange such towers to see,

And on its wings, the pale thin dream
Sculptur'd and wrought so gorgeously,

Lifted the Lady from the stream.
Where human art could never be.

The dizzy flight of that phantom pale,
And columns framed of marble white,

Waked the fair Lady from her sleep.
And giant fanes dome over dome

And she arose, while from the veil
Piled, and triumphant gates, all bright

Of her dark eyes the dream did creep,
With workmanship, which could not come

And she walked about as one who knew
From touch of mortal instrument,

That sleep has sights as clear and true
Shot o'er the vales, or lustre lent

As any waking eyes can view.
From its own shapes magnificent.

So much for the “Literary Pocket-
But still the Lady heard that clang
Filling the wide air far away;

Book” 1819. The earth has perform-
And still the mist whose light did hang

ed its revolution round the sun, and
Among the mountains shook alway,
So that the Lady's heart beat fast

that number is no more. What would
As half in joy, and half aghast,

we not give for a reading of Mr
On those high domes her look she cast.

Leigh Hunt's Literary Pocket-Book
Sudden from out that city sprung

for 1819! Could Messrs Olliers get
A light that made the earth grow red;
Two flames, that each with quivering tongue together a few dozen from villatic

Lick'd its high domes, and over head
Among those mighty towers and fanes

and rural manuscribes, they would be
Dropped fire, as a volcano rains

very diverting. Put down our names, Its sulphurous ruin on the plains.

at random, for a dozen copies.
And hark! a rush, as if the deep

The “ Literary Pocket-Book" for
Had burst its bonds; she looked behind
And saw. over the western steep.

1820 is just published. The lists are
A raging flood descend, and wind
Thro' that wide vale; she felt no fear,

pretty much the same as formerly—
But said within herself, 'tis clear

but we believe, both fuller and more
These towers are Nature's own, and she
To save them has sent forth the sea.

correct. In place of the “ Callendar

of Nature," we have from the pen of
And now those raging billows came
Where that fair Lady sate, and she

Mr Hunt,

a Callendar of Observers,"
Was borne towards the show'ring flame
By the wild waves heaped tumultuously,

or specimens of the greater or less
And on a little plank, the flow

enjoyment which people derive from Of the whirlpool bore her to and fro.

the world they live in, according to The waves were fiercely vomited

the number and healthiness of their From every tower and ev'ry dome, And dreary light did widely shed

perceptions!” The Observers are six O'er that vast flood's suspended foam,

in númber.

The Mere Lounger Beneath the smoke which hung its night On the stained cope of heaven's light.

The Mere Man of Business-The Bi

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got—The Mere Sportsman-TheMere forth with new strength and sprightliness, Sedentary Liver, and the Observer of the dog scampering about his master in Nature. Mr Hunt tells us, with his hopes he is going towards the fields, and usual eleverness, what each of these hyacinths, narcissuses, and violets in the

green markets : and seeing these, he cancharacters sees in each of the seasons.

not but hasten the faster to see the country. SPRING.

Instead of reading his book at home, he The mere Lounger.-Sees his face in the takes it with him, and sees what the poets glass, and yawns. Sees his tailor, who in describe. He sees the returning blue of forms him that it is spring. Sees several the sky, the birds all in motion, the glanpersons, horses, and suits of clothes in Bond cing showers, the after-laughing sun, the Street. Sees some pretty faces. Sees a maiden blossoms in the gardens, the thick. great deal of green and white in the milli. ening leafiness of the hedges, the perfect ner's shops, and thinks the country must be young green of the meadows, the bustling getting pretty. Takes a ride round the farm-yards, the far prospects, the near and Regent's Park, and sees Jones.

odorous bowers, the bee bounding forth « The Mere Man of Business.Sees his with his deep song through the lightsome clerks or apprentices up. Sees his custom- atmosphere, the kids leaping, the cattle ers come in all day." Sees their money. placidly grazing, the rainbow spanning the Sees faces occasionally go by. Sees shelves hills in its beauty and power, the showers and bundles all about him. Sees his law. again, the blue sky again, the sun triumpha yer and broker.

Sees dinner with briefing over the moisture like bright eyes above transport, just time enough to get an in- dewy lips, the perfumed evening, the gentle digestion. Sees to his accounts in the even- and the virgin moon. Going home, he sees ing, and endeavours to think himself a every thing again with the united transport happy man. Sees his goods adulterated. of health and imagination, and in his dreams Goes to bed, and sees in his dreams a great sees his friend and his mistress as happy as pale multitude looking at him, whom he himself. sets down for people he has cheated. Sees himself exposed, and wakes in a trepida- The Mere Lounger.-Goes into the countion. N. B. It is the fumes of indigestion, try to see Jones. Sees Jones. Sees some which in these and other cases inspire a horses. Sees little else in the country but man's dreams with a certain Delphic hor- the absence of town. Is shown a prospect,

and sees in it a considerable resemblance to The Bigot.-Sees the sunshine, and

a scene at the Opera. Sees a storm, and thinks how happy he and his friends will hopes it won't rain next Wednesday. be in heaven exclusively.

The Mere Man of Business.—Is sorry to going towards the country laughing, and see the town so empty. Sees some flowers gaily dressed.

Sees in them only so at the door, but declines buying any, bemany devoted victims to eternal fire ; calls cause he will not give the price asked by a the world a vile world ; and sees his debtor half-penny. Sees some new dishes on his sent to prison. Sees the building of his table at dinner, and has a remote notion chapel going on, and counts up his profits, that he enjoys himself. Feels himself half monied and eternal. Sees his servant bring- stifled with the weather, the dust, the close ing in a green goose for dinner ; and says, shop, and repletion ; and sees the pave. with an air of delighted regret, that he ment before his door watered with a tin fears his friend the gun-maker is too late. canister, in liquid lines of refreshment a quill

The Mere Sportsman-Sees a fox. Sees thick. him several times over. Sees a girl's com- The Bigot. Sees the beauty of the counplexion and ancles. Sees his friends all try, but thinks it wrong to bemoved by earth. drunk after dinner.

ly delights, and hastens home to his roast pig. The Mere Sedentary Liver.-Sees his Sees nothing in the world after dinner but a tongue in the glass. Sees the fine weather, fleeting shew. Finds it very hot ; sees a fiery and calls to mind all that the poets have kind of horrid look in the sunshine; and is not said about it. Takes his first walk this quite easy in thinking that ninety-nine hunyear, and sees numberless things, but all dredths of his fellow creatures are to be discoloured and half pleasant. Goes home burnt for ever ; thinks it impious however and sees with delight a new packet of to suppose his Maker too kind to suffer it, books. Reads an account of a man who and comforts himself with callousness. saw a spectre, and almost sees it himself. The Mere Sportsman.-Sees a hare, Goes to bed, and sees in his sleep a vision Sees a friend in a ditch. Does not see him shockingly mixed up of oddity and horror. out. Sees, in a transport of

The observer of Nature.-Sees the first hounds at fault. Goes to angle, to settle fine spring day and leaps up with transport. his spirits; and with considerable relief, Sees a world full of beauty and pleasure sees several fish drawn gasping out of the even in towns. Sees the young and fair water with a hook in their jaws, and a abroad, and sees their lovely countenances salmon crimped alive. and minds. Sees the white pigeons career. The Mere Sedentary Liver.-Sees with ing round the steeple, the horses issuing delight the flowers in his window, and vows

Sees a party

rage, the

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