human
It is too hard! I cannot bear it! and every morning my heart, yearning over
gpt
gave itself with renewed ardor to
human
Recommendation of a soul departing, also some of the preceding prayers of the
gpt
Litany for the dying.
human
He had preserved through all vicissitudes a small Confederate flag, made for him by his little daughter
gpt
Annie, now alas torn and shattered. When he came into the church on that terrible night, although almost destitute of clothing, he bore the flag safely pinned inside of his ragged flannel shirt. A few days afterwards I found the poor, emaciated frame propped up in bed, with a crumpled sheet of paper spread upon a piece of pine board before him, while, with unaccustomed hand and unaccustomed brain, he toiled over some verses of poetry addressed to
human
Annie. After a week or two, when he lay dying, I received from his hand the flag and the verses pinned together, and addressed to
gpt
Miss Annie ----,