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Updated: May 31, 2025
"There's Giant's Cairn as big as ever, and Feather-Cap, and Minster Rock, and the Spires. And there's plenty to do. There's your 'howl, Sin Saxon. That hasn't come off yet." "'It isn't the fall that hurts, it's the fetch-up, as the Irishman observed," said Sin Saxon, with a yawn.
"It's to be your party to Feather-Cap, but it shall be my party to Minster Rock," she said. "Leave that to me, please. Now the howl's off my hands, I feel equal to anything." Just in time for the party to Minster Rock, a great basket and box from home arrived for Sin Saxon.
We'll have a picnic at the Cliff, and Prissy will wait on us with raspberries and cream. We'll walk up Feather-Cap, and ride up Giant's Cairn, and we'll have a sunset at Minster Rock. And it's going to be pleasant weather every day!" They stitched away, then, dropping their talk. Miss Craydocke was out of breath; and Leslie measured her even loops with eyes that glittered more and more.
His countenance had a singular air of gravity; and especially the round hooked nose, on which was a huge pair of spectacles, distinguished itself from all the noses ever seen. He wore a strange peruke too more like a feather-cap than a wig. "Ey, many good evenings!" grated and cackled the little comical mannikin. "Is the student Herr Anselmus among you, gentlemen?
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