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A WOMAN'S WAY TO KNOWLEDGE.
The harvest was over.

The grain was cut, the prairie no longer waved like a golden sea, but the smoke of the incense of sacrifice still rose in innumerable spirals in the circle of the eye.

The ground appeared bare and ill-treated, like a sheep first shorn; but yet nothing could take away from it the look of plenty, even as the fat sides of the shorn sheep invite the satisfied eye of the expert.

The land now, all stubble, still looked good for anything.