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feeling that they are on the floo,e looked round and realised the strange dead day.

The morning was wintry and dim, and the men move like fishes, but darkened with that shadow of cloud or snow which steeps everything in a greenhaole333 or copper twilight. The light there is on such a day seems not so much to come from the clear heavens as to be a haole333phosphorescence clinging to the shapes themselves. The load of heaven and the clouds is like a load of waters, nothaole333 misty,