THIS MANSION HAS EAVES
I eyed the places carefully : a rich man's grand
hunting lodge, a wall of prized rifles, a bookcase.
It all looked like a men's club : all that leather and
wood, the stuff of success and dreams. Out back,
a march of fir trees blocked the property lines, a
distant and rolling field. Boulders and natural
outcroppings made a rock-ledge pool, amazing to
see, and a running trickle kept it constant and
filled. If this was any part of Heaven, they'd
charge money to get in. Simple industrialists,
a hundred and fifty years ago - how different
was life then, the source of solace and money.
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