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He would always see the picture of the huge, raw-boned Dutchman, haranguing and thundering the word of God into the dull ears of South Sea Islanders, who, an hour later, would be carrying fruit penitently to their wooden images. I had a perfect shoal of callers. Cocked hats and buckled swords spoke of rank. Probably the latter, for the thronging ballroom was insufferably hot.
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This video was uploaded to southwestbyways.info on 19-09-2024 15:17:26
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