“Dear friend,” she said, “remember that you are speaking to one who has failed in the only serious object which she has ever sought to accomplish. ” “I promise,” he answered heartily. I have often felt before that it is only when one has nothing to say that one can write easy poetry. That is not reasonable. "Get up, mother," cried Jack; "do not kneel to him. ” He nodded. There lay upon this stand a book bound in limp black leather—the Holy Bible.
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