He had plugged along, if not happy, at least with sound philosophy. Sheppard, with a laugh that cut the ears of those who listened to it like a razor,—"Do not despair! And who or what shall give me comfort when my son is gone? I have wept till my eyes are dry,—suffered till my heart is broken,—prayed till the voice of prayer is dumb,—and all of no avail. "He would return my letters unopened or destroy them. " "For me!" vociferated Mrs.
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