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Updated: May 4, 2025
Many a time of a summer evening we lads would walk up to Wydcombe, and sit on the fence near the farm, to hear Sophy a-singing through the open window. She'd a pianoforty, too, and would sing powerful long songs about captains and moustachers and broken hearts, till people was nearly fit to cry over it. And when she wasn't singing she was painting.
I knaw'd his back, and the high way with his head at first onset. It was Black Diamond. "'Hullo, Bert, says I, coming up behind. "Round he jumps, terrible dark. "I'd hardly ha know'd him toff'd out quite the officer, bits of epaulettes, waxed moustachers, pistol and all. I'd never ha beleft it! "'That Reube? says he, at last, starin properly. "'That's me, sir, says I.
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