A spider has eight feet.
They burned the old gun that used to stand in the dark corner up in the garret, close to the stuffed fox that always grinned so fiercely. Perhaps the reason why he seemed in such a ghastly rage was that he did not come by his death fairly. Otherwise his pelt would not have been so perfect. And why else was he put away up there out of sight?—and so magnificent a brush as he had too.
[…] For ſince I ſaught By Prayer th' offended Deitie to appeaſe, Kneel'd and before him humbl'd all my heart, Methought I ſaw him placable and mild, Bending his eare;
How do you plan to explain this vision thing to everybody without looking totally nutballs?
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