Unmarked6698
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Oh, it was wonderful! wonderful! Johnny Blossom had to stand on his head in the grass, time after time—everything was so unspeakably joyful! Happy we'll be! Really it was a delightful old wharf. Near the shore it was built on rocks and stones, but farther out there were thick piles on which the great heavy boards were laid. There was no railing, and at the extreme end a single board to which boats could be fastened projected far out over the water. The boards shone white and hot in the sun. The piles down in the water were covered with tiny shells, seaweed, and greenish slime..
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kez_ h (Kez_h)
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Conrad
“Thank you kindly, sir. It won’t be lonesome now that I have that to look at,” and his crooked finger pointed up to the little brown paper frame hanging by its red cord. Suddenly he heard his own name. “John Christopher Winkel Blossom,” read the Admiral. That was Johnny’s own name exactly. Uncle Isaac had often said that there was no one among all the relatives who had the whole of the old name now except Johnny Blossom. It was Miguel Philipe, who during the excitement had been left lying bound in the bushes where the Indian had dumped him. When he was brought under the light of the porch, he was a sorry looking specimen. He had been unable to defend himself from the insects and his face was puffed and mottled and his eyes almost closed. “Better not let go one hand till you get another hold!” cautioned Jerry. “It’s mighty slippery.”.
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