text_original: Father Gibault looked back, and against the gray of the winter's twilight there were flames like red maple leaves. In the fort the men stood to their guns, their faces flushed with staring at the burning houses.
text_transcription: FATHER GABALD LOOKED BACK AND AGAINST THE GREY OF THE WINTER'S TWILIGHT THERE WERE FLAMES LIKE RED MAPLE LEAVES IN THE FORT THE MEN STOOD TO THEIR GUNS THEIR FACES FLUSHED WITH STARING AT THE BURNING HOUSES
phonemes: fˈɑːðɚ dʒˈɪbɔlt lˈʊkt bˈæk, ænd ɐɡˈɛnst ðə ɡɹˈeɪ ʌvðə wˈɪntɚz twˈaɪlaɪt ðɛɹwˌɜː flˈeɪmz lˈaɪk ɹˈɛd mˈeɪpəl lˈiːvz. ɪnðə fˈɔːɹt ðə mˈɛn stˈʊd tə ðɛɹ ɡˈʌnz, ðɛɹ fˈeɪsᵻz flˈʌʃt wɪð stˈɛɹɪŋ æt ðə bˈɜːnɪŋ hˈaʊzᵻz.