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And from this ile of Rodes, men gon to Cipre, where bethe many vynes, that first bene rede, and aftre o zeer, thei becomen white: and theise wynes that ben most white, ben most clere and best of smelle. And men passen be that way, be a place that was wont to ben a gret cytee and a gret lond: and the cytee was clept Cathaillye: the which cytee and lond was lost thorghe folye of a zonge man.

The little white-haired Frenchman made a gesture of the shoulders and outspread hands indicative of a pious horror at the condition of this neglected grave. The meaning of his attitude was so obvious that River Andrew shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. "Passen," he said, "he don't take no account of the graves. He's what you might call a bookworm.

For he departed that ryvere in 360 smale ryveres: because that he had sworn, that he scholde putte the ryvere in suche poynt, that a woman myghte wel passe there, withouten castynge of of hire clothes; for als moche as he hadde lost many worthi men, that trowden to passen that ryvere by swymmynge.

And aboven, in the dust and in the powder of the hilles, thei wroot lettres and figures with hire fingres: and at the zeres end thei comen azen, and founden the same lettres and figures, the whiche thei hadde writen the zeer before, withouten ony defaute. And therfore it semethe wel, that theise hilles passen the clowdes and joynen to the pure eyr.

"There's Passen," said one woman to another, behind the corner of her apron, within Colville's hearing. "It takes a deal to bring him out o' doors nowadays, and little Sep and Miss Miriam." Dormer Colville heard the words. And he heard something unspoken in the pause before the mention of the last name.

But there was more than an East Anglian bluffness in the statement and the manner of its delivery, as his next observation at once explained. "Passen thinks it's over there by the yew-tree but he's wrong. That there one was a wash-up found by old Willem the lighthouse keeper one morning early. No! this is where Frenchman was laid by."

"Passen takes no account o' churchyard," River Andrew had said, and neither he nor any other in Farlingford could account for the special neglect to which was abandoned that particular corner of the burial ground where the late Mrs. Marvin reposed beneath an early Victorian headstone of singular hideousness. Mr. Marvin always went round the other way.

And from Babyloyne, where the Soudan dwellethe, to go right betwene the oryent and the Septemtryon, toward the grete Babyloyne, is 40 journeys to passen be desart. But it is not the grete Babiloyne, in the lond and in the powere of the seyd Soudan; but it is in the power and the lordschipe of Persye.

"Franz Liszt ah, you see I bow when I mention the name you never heard Franz Liszt? Ah, it was the great Liszt who listened listened to his inner voice. They said he was inspired. He was simply listening to himself. "Nun, passen Sie mal auf! I abominate machine teaching. A certain amount of it may be necessary, but I hate it. It seems so brutal so inartistic.

"Passen takes no account o' churchyard," River Andrew had said, and neither he nor any other in Farlingford could account for the special neglect to which was abandoned that particular corner of the burial ground where the late Mrs. Marvin reposed beneath an early Victorian headstone of singular hideousness. Mr. Marvin always went round the other way.