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Various

"The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 12, No. 74, December, 1863"

Was he thinking of that old dream? _Would_
he go back to it? the long dull pain of those dead years creeping
through her brain. He looked up from the boy, stroking his gray
beard,--his eyes, she saw, full of tears.
"I was thinking, Jane, how much of our lives was lost before we found
our true work."
"Yes, Joseph."
He gathered up the boy, holding him close to his bony chest.
"I'd like to think," he said. "I could atone for that waste, Jane. It
was my fault. I'd like to think I'd earn up yonder that cross of the
Legion of Honor--through him."
"God knows," she said.
After that they were silent a long while, They were thinking of Him who
had brought the little child to them.
* * * * *
A LOYAL WOMAN'S NO.

No! is my answer from this cold, bleak ridge
Down to your valley: you may rest you there:
The gulf is wide, and none can build a bridge
That your gross weight would safely hither bear.
Pity me, if you will. I look at you
With something that is kinder far than scorn,
And think, "Ah, well! I might have grovelled, too;
I might have walked there, fettered and forsworn.


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