" Her son complied, and sat down upon the patch-work coverlet beside her. "One of us has got to die," he panted. By this time, Jonathan and the vast mob attending him, had come up, and the place was rendered almost as light as day by the links. 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. Sure, I lose one occasionally—if he stays in New York. ’ Too late he saw his error.
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