My soul frets in the shadow of his language. The postbag, that evening--it came late--contained a letter for me, which, however, in the hand of my employer, I found to be composed but of a few words enclosing another, addressed to himself, with a seal still unbroken. Well knows he who uses to consider, that our faith and knowledge thrives by exercise, as well as our limbs and complexion. But hope is good, and so are strength and vigilance.
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