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Updated: June 5, 2025
He must advance, and on he footed, the little dog following. An oppressive slumber hung about the forest-branches. In the dells and on the heights was the same dead heat. Here where the brook tinkled it was no cool-lipped sound, but metallic, and without the spirit of water. Yonder in a space of moonlight on lush grass, the beams were as white fire to sight and feeling. No haze spread around.
He must advance, and on he footed, the little dog following. An oppressive slumber hung about the forest-branches. In the dells and on the heights was the same dead heat. Here where the brook tinkled it was no cool-lipped sound, but metallic, and without the spirit of water. Yonder in a space of moonlight on lush grass, the beams were as white fire to sight and feeling. No haze spread around.
Soft air, mellow sun, cool-lipped breeze, horizon veiled in tinted mist a gem of a day, the jewel of a season. "Them as has, gets," murmured Mrs. Sykes, gloomily, as she tied on her Sunday bonnet. She rather resented the kindness of nature upon this present occasion. A nice rain would have suited her mood better.
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