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 shrank from the spot, leaving only Walter and the Clergyman with the childless man.

"Be comforted, Houseman!" said Summers, soothingly; "it is a dreadful affliction that you have sustained. I knew your daughter well: you may have heard her speak of me. Let us in, and try what heavenly comfort there is in prayer."

"Prayer! Pooh! I am Richard Houseman!"

"Lives there one man for whom prayer is unavailing?"

"Out, Canter, out! My pretty Jane!—And she laid her head on my bosom,—and looked up in my face,—and so—died!"

"Come," said the Curate, placing his hand on Houseman's arm, "come—"

Before he could proceed, Houseman, who was muttering to himself, shook him off roughly, and hurried away up the street; but after he had gone a few paces, he turned back, and approaching the curate, said, in a more collected tone:—"I pray you, Sir, since you are a clergyman (I