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The excerpt represents the core issue or deciding factor on which you must meditate, and is drawn from St. Ives by Robert Louis Stevenson: driving in a hired chaise, word of my destination seemed to have
gone abroad, and the women curtseyed and the men louted to me by
the wayside. As I came near, I began to appreciate the roots of
this widespread respect. The look of my uncle's park wall, even
from the outside, had something of a princely character; and when I
came in view of the house itself, a sort of madness of vicarious
vain-glory struck me dumb and kept me staring. It was about the
size of the Tuileries. It faced due north; and the last rays of
the sun, that was setting like a red-hot shot amidst a tumultuous
gathering of snow clouds, were reflected on the endless rows of
windows. A portico of Doric columns adorned the front, and would
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