And the leaves--the millions and
myriads of sere, cast-off leaves, heaped ankle-deep under the desolate
giants of the wood, and everywhere, in the hollows of the earth, lying
silent and motionless, as became dead, fallen things--suddenly catching a
mock fantastic life from the wind, how they would all be up and
stirring, every leaf with a hiss like a viper, racing, many thousands at
a time, over the barren spaces, all hurriedly talking together in their
dead-leaf language! until, smitten with a mightier gust, they would rise
in flight on flight, in storms and stupendous, eddying columns, whirled
up to the clouds, to fall to the earth again in showers, and freckle the
grass for roods around. Then for a moment, far off in heavens, there
would be a rift, or a thinning of the clouds, and the sunbeams, striking
like lightning through their ranks, would illumine the pale blue mist,
the slanting rain, the gaunt black boles and branches, glittering with
wet, casting a momentary glory over the ocean-like tumult of nature.
In the condition I was in, with a relaxed body and dejected mind, this
tempestuous period, which would have only afforded fresh delight to a
person in perfect health, had no charm for my spirit; but, on the
contrary, it only served to intensify my gloom.
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