Father-worshipping sons are abnormal— and they’re no good. 'But I don't desire to spoil sport,—not I. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. "Do you call neglecting your work, and singing flash songs nothing? Zounds! you incorrigible rascal, many a master would have taken you before a magistrate, and prayed for your solitary confinement in Bridewell for the least of these offences. “But what can one do?” asked Ann Veronica.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTMzLjE1MC40MSAtIDIzLTA5LTIwMjQgMDE6MjU6MTAgLSA2MDAwMzIyODY=
This video was uploaded to thenextfuture.net on 21-09-2024 17:39:57
Related resources: Ref1 - Ref2 - Ref3 - Ref4 - Ref5 - Ref6 - Ref7 - Ref8 - Ref9