On a bench at the foot of the trees, with a pipe in his mouth, and a tankard by his side, sat the worthy carpenter, looking the picture of good-heartedness and benevolence. In the upper hall he paused to listen. ’ ‘What, a common soldier?’ ‘He was not a common soldier. The lamp was spreading soot over everything and the reek of kerosene was stronger than usual. "Why, first," rejoined Austin, "there's Sir James Thornhill, historical painter to his Majesty, and the greatest artist of the day.
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