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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. “Let me see,” he said. My mother died the day I was born; that’s what they tell me. Her mouth dry, she made her feet walk on, not daring to utter a word.
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