Though not much passed the middle term of life, he seemed prematurely stricken with old age. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. "Why do you laugh?" she asked gravely.
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