Passing the old rectory, and still older church, with its reverend screen of trees, and slowly ascending a hill side, from whence he obtained enchanting peeps of the spire and college of Harrow, he reached the cluster of well-built houses which constitute the village of Neasdon. ‘And with my grandfather Charvill also so very angry, it was not perhaps so very comfortable for my father. May I know your name?’ The lady eyed him. "More than three hundred weight, Sir," replied the man.
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