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I have seen a whole flock of rooks cawing querulously—"quirring" would be a better descriptive participle—on and about the lower part of the precipitous, rocky Torrs; but never have I seen them perching on the highest point of the Torrs, which is as inaccessible to these birds at twopence as would be the aforesaid lower portion to the unwinged pedestrian even at a halfpenny; unless pedestrian should arrive at rookery by accidentally tumbling over from above, in which case it is much to be feared he would probably be "left till called for."
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One of the most interesting sights on the Torrs is the occasional appearance of a kindly gentleman, carrying a snow-white cockatoo, with a magnificent yellow crest, perfectly tame, and perched on his owner's wrist, just as the parrot used to perch on the wrist of our old friend Robinson Crusoe.
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The parrot, unchained, is a genuine "Bird of Freedom"; but he never misuses his liberty, nor abuses his privilege of speech, but, from time to time, he erects or lowers his crest, and expresses his approbation of things in general, or his disapprobation of anything in particular. A great companion this Polly.
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Recent Solar Discovery.—I picked it up on Torrs Walks. The sun was setting magnificently. Near me there stood, observing the effect, a young lady and a very old one. Quoth the former, "It is a grand sun, isn't it?" And the other replied, "It is a grand-sun, indeed." Being evidently a grandmamma, she ought to know.
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Not knowing anything about the political bias of the majority at Ilfracombe, I should say the voters must be chiefly Torr-ies.