The Weathercock Being The Adventures Of A Boy With A Bias (Fiscle Part-X)
By: George Manville Fenn
User: disha
"Oh, I Say, Here's A Game! What's He Up To Now?"
"Hi! Vane! Old Weathercock! Hold Hard!"
"Do You Hear? Which Way Does The Wind Blow?"
Three Salutations Shouted At A Lad Of About Sixteen, Who Had Just Shown
Himself At The Edge Of A Wood On The Sunny Slope Of The Southwolds, One
Glorious September Morning, When The Spider-Webs Were Still Glittering
With Iridescent Colours, As If Every Tiny Strand Were Strung With
Diamonds, Emeralds And Amethysts, And The Thick Green Moss That Clothed
The Nut Stubbs Was One Glorious Sheen Of Topaz, Sapphire And Gold.
"Hi! Vane! Old Weathercock! Hold Hard!"
"Do You Hear? Which Way Does The Wind Blow?"
Three Salutations Shouted At A Lad Of About Sixteen, Who Had Just Shown
Himself At The Edge Of A Wood On The Sunny Slope Of The Southwolds, One
Glorious September Morning, When The Spider-Webs Were Still Glittering
With Iridescent Colours, As If Every Tiny Strand Were Strung With
Diamonds, Emeralds And Amethysts, And The Thick Green Moss That Clothed
The Nut Stubbs Was One Glorious Sheen Of Topaz, Sapphire And Gold.
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