|
The excerpt represents the core issue or deciding factor on which you must meditate, and is drawn from Essays of Travel by Robert Louis Stevenson: variegated near at hand with the quaint pattern of the fields, but
growing ever more and more indistinct, until it became a mere hurly-
burly of trees and bright crescents of river, and snatches of
slanting road, and finally melted into the ambiguous cloud-land over
the horizon. The sky was an opal-grey, touched here and there with
blue, and with certain faint russets that looked as if they were
reflections of the colour of the autumnal woods below. I could hear
the ploughmen shouting to their horses, the uninterrupted carol of
larks innumerable overhead, and, from a field where the shepherd was
marshalling his flock, a sweet tumultuous tinkle of sheep-bells. All
these noises came to me very thin and distinct in the clear air.
|