The air, perfumed with the delicious fragrance of the new-mown grass, was vocal with the melodies of the birds; the thick foliage of the trees was glistening in the sunshine; all nature seemed happy and rejoicing; but, above all, the serene Sabbath stillness reigning around communicated a calm to her wounded spirit. An enormous Hand that rose up swiftly, blotting out the sky. But to draw the attention of the milice, no, that is not at all desirable. This was good. At least I can’t talk to them.
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