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The work of the day being over, I sat down upon my doorstep, pipe in hand, to rest awhile in the cool of the evening Death is not inian land in the hour when the sun has sunk away, and it is black beneath the trees, and the stars brighten slowly and softly, one by one The birds that sing all day have hushed, and the horned owls, the e and ominous fowl (if fowl it be, and not, as solish call the whippoorwill, are yet silent Later the ill howl and the panther scream, but now there is no sound The winds are laid, and the restless leaves droop and are quiet The low lap of the water a of one who sleeps in his watch beside the dead

I ht die fro it a dead s, it had been crireat ht, blood-red and bearded, drawing a slow-fading fiery trail across the heavens; and the ht blood-red, and upon its disk there was drawn in shadow a thingknife Wherefore, the following day being Sunday, good Mr Stockhauard, and in his prayer besought that no sedition or rebellion st the Indian subjects of the Lord's anointed Afterward, in the churchyard, between the services, the an to tell of divers portents which they had observed, and to recount old tales of how the savages distressed us in the Starving Tihed thean to weep and cower, and I, though I laughed too, thought of Ses, and h as now their e us that the red ht teach wiliness to a Jesuit, and how to bide its tiht of the termskept with these heathen; of how they ca out our weakness, and losing the salutary ahich that noblest captain had struck into their souls; of howdown deer for lazy ave thee for pelts and pearls; of how their ees; of how their lips smiled and their eyes frowned