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Excerpt from Dialect Tales
Never think to daunt me, father, said I briskly. I shall go to Sarsar, and shall fetch back the money.
A few days later I got off at a station ten miles east of Sarsar, and, hiring a horse, set out for a ride across the coun try. The hills were steep, the road rough, the people rougher. At the cabins where I stopped to ask the way they looked on me as a stranger from a far-off land.
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