The air became hot and swollen with June humidity. I am shockingly poor. Spurlock was basically a poet, quick to recognize beauty, animate or inanimate, and to transcribe it in unuttered words. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. “He is evidently a friend of Mrs. ‘I don’t know what the devil you’re talking about.
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