He had meant to be master of his fate that evening and it had escaped him altogether. What’s your name?” He asked in return. Her husband finally relented. The first peg was torture. But—it’s one of the things I’ve just been thinking over. "Write as I dictate," he cried, placing a pen in the jailer's hand and a pistol to his ear. It is the immediate inspiration of confidence; it alleviates pain, because we know by that smile that pain is soon to leave us; it becomes the bulwark against our depressive thoughts of death; and it is the promise that we still have a long way to go before we reach the Great Terminal.
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