" "I could make a fine sketch of him now," whispered Hogarth to Gay. For a big-bellied glass is the palette I use, And the choicest of wine is my colour; And I find that my nose takes the mellowest hues The fuller I fill it—the fuller! IV. Thunder rumbled behind the manicured hills. "Hurrah!" shouted he, waving his hat triumphantly over his head. We girls, my sister and I, were left quite alone when our father died, and I made up my mind to make some little place in the world for myself.
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