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Farrar, Frederic William, 1831-1903

"Eric"

Duncan and Llewellyn both knew and loved
Russell themselves, and they were awestruck to hear of his death; they
asked some of the particulars, but Eric was not calm enough to tell them
that evening. The one sense of infinite loss agitated him, and he
indulged his paroxysms of emotion unrestrained, yet silently. Reader, if
ever the life has been cut short which you most dearly loved, if ever
you have been made to feel absolutely lonely in the world, then, and
then only, will you appreciate the depth of his affliction.
But, like all affliction, it purified and sanctified. To Eric, as he
rested his aching head on a pillow wet with tears, and vainly sought for
the sleep whose blessing he had never learned to prize before, how
odious seemed all the vice which he had seen and partaken in since he
became an inmate of that little room. How his soul revolted with
infinite disgust from the language which he had heard, and the open
glorying in sin of which he had so often been a witness. The stain and
the shame of sin fell heavier than ever on his heart; it rode on his
breast like a nightmare; it haunted his fancy with visions of guilty
memory, and shapes of horrible regret.


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