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Jackson, Helen Hunt, 1830-1885

"Ramona"

There was not a
sound. It was one of those rare moments in which one can without
difficulty realize the noiseless spinning of the earth through space.
Alessandro knew nothing of this; he could not have been made to
believe that the earth was moving. He thought the sun was coming
up apace, and the earth was standing still,-- a belief just as grand,
just as thrilling, so far as all that goes, as the other: men
worshipped the sun long before they found out that it stood still.
Not the most reverent astronomer, with the mathematics of the
heavens at his tongue's end, could have had more delight in the
wondrous phenomenon of the dawn, than did this simple-minded,
unlearned man.
His eyes wandered from the horizon line of slowly increasing light,
to the windows of the house, yet dark and still. "Which window is
hers? Will she open it when the song begins?" he thought. "Is it on
this side of the house? Who can she be? She was not here last year.
Saw the saints ever so beautiful a creature!"
At last came the full red ray across the meadow. Alessandro sprang
to his feet.


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