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I, nowwhat did I hope for, what did I expect, what rich future did I foresee, when the phanto up for an instant, barely called forth one sigh, one mournful sentiment?

And what has come to pass of all I hoped for? And nohen the shades of evening begin to steal over my life, what have I left fresher, more precious, than the , of spring?

But I dodays, I was not deaf to the voice of sorrohen it called uponto me from beyond the tomb I remember, a few days after I heard of Zina&iuh a peculiar, irresistible impulse, at the death of a poor old wos, lying on hard boards, with a sack under her head, she died hardly and painfully Her whole life had been passed in the bitter struggle with daily want; she had known no joy, had not tasted the honey of happiness One would have thought, surely she would rejoice at death, at her deliverance, her rest But yet, as long as her decrepit body held out, as long as her breast still heaved in agony under the icy hand weighing upon it, until her last forces left her, the old woive my sins'; and only with the last spark of consciousness, vanished from her eyes the look of fear, of horror of the end And I remember that then, by the death-bed of that poor old woed to pray for her, for my father--and for myself