Say 'father.' We never called him papa; and if one of my brothers had addressed him as 'governor,' as boys do now, I really think he'd have him cut off with a shilling.
Beneath them my swarthy and hardy peasants are plodding up the hill asweat and athirst.
He used to gallop Rebecca over the neighbouring Dumpling Downs, or into the county town, which, if you please, we shall call Chatteris, spouting his own poems, and filled with quite a Byronic afflatus as he thought.
I did not think to see them once again, / For what could bring into an old woman's dream / Canova's immarcescible marble lovers?
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DiQt
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