Explore "Sapphira And The Slave Girl" by Willa Cather on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
No one on Back Creek could remember a finer autumn; frosts before sunrise, summer heat at noon, chill nights. All morning the mountain lay in a soft blue haze, and in the afternoon broad fans of heavy golden sunlight warmed its back and flanks. The colour on the hillsides, in the low meadows, and along the streams had never been more brilliant. Little rain fell in October, and the trees held their leaves. The great maples in Mrs. Blake's yard were like blazing torches; scarlet leaves fluttered softly down to the green turf, leaving the boughs above still densely covered.
With November the weather changed. Heavy rains set in. There was scarcely a clear day. The earth was soon soaked, the meadows became boggy, and all the streams rose. Back Creek overflowed its low banks and rushed yellow and foaming into the mill road. The schoolroom under the Baptist Church, set deep in the hillside, became very damp. Suddenly David Fairhead's school was closed; nearly half his pupils were in bed with ulcerated throats or diphtheria.