“What are you doing?” He cried. At this terrible juncture, Jack maintained his composure,—a smile played upon his face before the cap was drawn over it,—and the last words he uttered were, "My poor mother! I shall soon join her!" The rope was then adjusted, and the cart began to move. A cold shiver ran through her frame, and her gentle spirit passed away for ever. ” “Right!” he answered. "Lean on me," said Jack. Death belongs to God, young man.
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