large/8934/worshipper_image_1410_librivox_64kb_mp3/worshipperimage_02_legallienne_64kb_59
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English
8934
There the least superstitious would start at the sight of a toad, and come upon three magpies at once not without fear. THERE THE LEAST SUPERSTITIOUS WOULD START AT THE SIGHT OF A TOAD AND COME UPON THREE MAGPIES AT ONCE NOT WITHOUT FEAR
eaves, and oozy sinks of dank water. For the moors autumn is the spring come back in purple, and in golden woods and many another place where the year dies happily, she smiles like a widow so young and fair that one thinks rather of life than death in her presence. But in the valley Autumn was a fearsome hag, a little crazy, two-double, gathering sticks in a scarlet cloak. When she turned her wicked old eyes upon you, the life died within you, and wherever you walked she was always somewhere in the bushes muttering evil spells. All the year round under the green cloud of summer, you might meet Autumn creeping somewhere in the valley, like foul mists that creep from pool to pool; for here all the year was decay to feed upon and dead leaves for her to sleep on. Always the year round in the valley, if you listened close, you would hear something sighing, something dying. To the happiest walking there would come strange sinkings of the heart, unaccountable premonitions of overhanging doom. RIFTING PLACES OF LEAVES AND OOZY SINKS OF DANK WATER FOR THE MOORS IN AUTUMN IS THE SPRING COME BACK IN PURPLE AND IN GOLDEN WOODS AND MANY ANOTHER PLACE WHERE THE YEAR DIES HAPPILY SHE SMILES LIKE A WIDOW SO YOUNG AND FAIR THAT ONE THINKS RATHER OF LIFE THAN DEATH IN HER PRESENCE BUT IN THE VALLEY AUTUMN WAS A FEARSOME HAG A LITTLE CRAZY TOO DOUBLE GATHERING STICKS IN A SCARLET CLOAK WHEN SHE TURNED HER WICKED OLD EYES UPON YOU THE LIFE DIED WITHIN YOU AND WHEREVER YOU WALKED SHE WAS ALWAYS SOMEWHERE IN THE BUSHES MUTTERING EVIL SPELLS ALL THE YEAR ROUND UNDER THE GREEN CLOUD OF SUMMER YOU MIGHT MEET AUTUMN CREEPING SOMEWHERE IN THE VALLEY LIKE FOUL MISTS THAT CREEP FROM POOL TO POOL FOR HERE ALL THE YEAR WAS DECAY TO FEED UPON AND DEAD LEAVES FOR HER TO SLEEP ON ALWAYS THE YEAR ROUND IN THE VALLEY IF YOU LISTENED CLOSE YOU WOULD HEAR SOMETHING SIGHING SOMETHING DYING TO THE HAPPIEST WALKING THERE WOULD COME STRANGE SINKINGS OF THE HEART UNACCOUNTABLE PREMONITIONS OF OVERHANGING DOOM
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