Then they set upon us and slew some of my slaves and put the lave to flight[.]
We crossed to the other side of the road.
He spends his days flitting through the woods with his shot-gun and his butterfly-net, and his evenings in mounting the many specimens he has acquired.
I remember taking the old warhorse, “Una Voce Poco Fa,” from Il Barbiere (Rossini) to three of the greatest living singing masters in Italy.
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