"..The movement and the rustle of the branches delights me. The clouds float past and I lift my head to follow their flight, or think about some madrigal, when a slight sound, which has been going on for a little while, rouses me slowly from my dream.; at least I turn my head and see, to my grief, a little white scut just disappearing into the thicket..."
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"Yes, but not in the South", with slight adjustments, will do for any argument about any place, if not about any person."
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