"Well—well," grumbled Jonathan, "I suppose I must be content. She refrained. America, the land of rosy apples and snowstorms, beckoned, and she wanted to fly thitherward. "I don't know what his idea was. It towered up high above the level of the pass, thousands of feet, still, shining, and white, and below, thousands of feet below, was a floor of little woolly clouds. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work.
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