RUSSET PREMONITIONS 



WHEN the sun had sunk below the 

 hill crest I came to the road on the 

 eastern side. It was arched with 

 trees and sloped upward before me, 

 not enough to weary, but enough to 

 please in its suggestion of a wider 

 view, with every step ahead. The 

 Miami flowed placidly, almost laz- 

 ily, along the level valley. Its water 

 was seen occasionally through the 

 sycamore trees that were gathered 

 on the flat between the hill and the 

 river. 



The autumn sun had been hot, as 

 I had followed the river road. Now, 

 as I climbed the hillside, the shadows 

 were cool. Above me at the crest 



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