"And now," she added, with somewhat more composure, "leave me, dear friends, I entreat, for a few minutes to collect my scattered thoughts—to prepare myself for what I have to go through—to pray for my son. When the prisoner was removed from the dock, we met Jonathan as we passed through the yard. There’s that old gentleman at the end of the table—Bullding his name is. "How goes it?" he began, heartily.
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