[originaltext] It was not yet eleven o’clock when a boat crossed the river w

It was not yet eleven o’clock when a boat crossed the river with a single passenger who promised an extra fare. The ferryman lifted a lantern, together with the moonlight, he found his passenger was a young man of barely eighteen years old, and now, as it seemed on his first visit to town. He was wearing a gray coat, which was in good shape, but which had seen many winters before this one. In his left hand was a walking stick. Brown, curly hair, well-shaped features, bright, cheerful eyes were nature’s gifts. About half an hour later, the boat reached the town, and the young man, whose name was Robin, paid the boatman, and then Walked forward into the town with a light step. As he walked, he looked around as eagerly as if be were entering London or Madrid, instead of the little town of a New England colony.