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Mr. Wright asked me with a smile. Leaves of the beeches, maples and basswoods yellowed by frost hung like tiny lanterns, glowing with noonday light, above the dim forest-aisle which we traveled. The sun was down when we got to the clearing. "What a day it has been!" said Mr. Wright when we were seated in the wagon at last with the hound and the deer's head between his feet and mine.
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