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9 pages, Kindle Edition
First published March 30, 2011
I was sitting in a birch grove in autumn, near the middle of September. . . .
It had been drizzling ever since morning; occasionally the sun shone warmly;—the weather was changeable. . . .
one should have seen how brightly these birches flushed in the sun when its rays suddenly appeared gliding and flashing through the dense net of the thin branches which had just been washed around by the sparkling rain. . . .
Not a single bird was heard; all had found shelter, and were silent; only rarely the mocking voice of the bluebird sang out like a little steel bell.