In unploughed Maine he sought the lumberers’ gang / Where from a hundred lakes young rivers sprang
We're with an antipornography organization.
In ſo moche that if any verbe be of the thyꝛde coniugation / I ſet out all his rotes and tenſes[…]
His wife was darning a sock, running a needle and yarn across and back, over and under, up and down, gradually filling in the big spud-hole in her husband's sock.
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