I sat down on a bank, such as a writer of Romance might have delighted to feign. I had indeed no trees to whisper over my head, but a clear rivulet streamed at my feet. The day was calm, the air soft, and all was rudeness, silence, and solitude. The British Tourist's, Or, Traveller's Pocket Companion, Through England ... - Seite 36 von William Fordyce Mavor - 1809 Vollansicht -
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