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Various

"The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 04, No. 26, December, 1859"


"Yea," whispered another still, small voice; "but is not Hepsy Ann your
promised wife?" And those fatal words sounded in his heart: "For this
cause shall a man leave his father and mother, and be joined to his
wife."
"Lord, inspire me to do what is right!" prayed poor mazed Elkanah,
sinking on his knees at his cot-side.
But presently, through his blinding tears, "Lord, give me strength to
do the right!"
And then, when he awoke next morning, the world seemed another world to
him. The foundations of his life seemed broken loose. Tears were no
longer, nor prayers. But he went about slowly, and with loving hands,
packing up his brushes, pallets, paints, easel,--all the few familiar
objects of a life which was his no longer, and on which he seemed to
himself already looking as across some vast gulf of years. At last all
was done. A last look about the dismantled garret, so long his
workshop, his home, where he had grown out of one life into another,
and a better, as he thought,--out of a narrow circle into a broader.
And then, away for the Cape.


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