Chapter 49 No.49

We barter life for pottage, sell true bliss

For wealth or power, for pleasure or renown;

Thus, Esau-like, our Father's blessing miss,

Then wash with fruitless tears our faded crown.

Christian Year.

"Papa, here is a message from Flora for you," said Margaret, holding up a letter; "she wants to know whom to consult about the baby."

            
            

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