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64 Lather I. I remember the posters of the rebel leaders, how the rain pocks their cheeks, each spring; and mud huts, as briefly raised, as splashes in the wallows. II. The settlements, truss the ground, we break, to reach them; and though we must expose stairs for the porters, it is (briefly) as it would have been—the settlements deserted, the gazelles lost in the shift of consciousness, between rest and alarm. ...

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