On reaching the churchyard, he perceived the melancholy procession descending the hill. Mr. Every so often a wall of water, thin and jadecoloured, would rise up over the port bow, hesitate, and fall smacking amidships. It was a grand life. . Spurlock was basically a poet, quick to recognize beauty, animate or inanimate, and to transcribe it in unuttered words. Poor Ben was not so fortunate.
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