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Emeline Larcom was the sister of Lucy Larcom (a well known New England poet, essayist, and editor). One of ten children, she grew up in the Massachusetts coastal town of Beverly -- located just north of Boston. Her father was a sea captain who was often away from home. With his untimely death in 1832, his wife, Lois Larcom, was forced to seek out employment to maintain her large family; she found it in the mill town of Lowell. She relocated to the community with her younger children in 1835, and took charge of a boardinghouse, working for the Lawrence Manufacturing Company. Soon, four of her daughters also took up employment with the firm � working inside the mills. Emiline was one of them. Sometime between 1837 and 1840, Lois Larcom returned to Beverly. Several of her daughters, including Emiline, remained in the mill. Emiline worked for the Lawrence Company until her marriage in 1843.
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Answer: When me and my friends were talking on the phone and I wanted to end the conversations but didn't
know how to. So I said I am closing this call for you so bye Antony.
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I guess it is a source name. If I'm wrong, sorry
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I looked upon the scene before me—upon the mere house, and the simple landscape features of the domain—upon the bleak walls—upon the vacant eye-like windows—upon a few rank sedges—and upon a few white trunks of decayed trees—with an utter depression of soul which I can compare to no earthly sensation more properly than to the after-dream of the reveller upon opium—the bitter lapse into everyday life—the hideous dropping off of the veil. There was an iciness, a sinking, a sickening of the heart—an unredeemed dreariness of thought which no goading of the imagination could torture into aught of the sublime. What was it—I paused to think—what was it that so unnerved me in the contemplation of the House of Usher? It was a mystery all insoluble; nor could I grapple with the shadowy fancies that crowded upon me as I pondered. I was forced to fall back upon the unsatisfactory conclusion, that while, beyond doubt, there are combinations of very simple natural objects which have the power of thus affecting us, still the analysis of this power lies among considerations beyond our depth. It was possible, I reflected, that a mere different arrangement of the particulars of the scene, of the details of the picture, would be sufficient to modify, or perhaps to annihilate its capacity for sorrowful impression; and, acting upon this idea, I reined my horse to the precipitous brink of a black and lurid tarn that lay in unruffled lustre by the dwelling, and gazed down—but with a shudder even more thrilling than before—upon the remodelled and inverted images of the gray sedge, and the ghastly tree-stems, and the vacant and eye-like windows.
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b. to inform readers about auroras near polar regions #markasbrainliest