It is my desire
to pray for my sins today * * * and there has a letter come from
overseas which I must read - if I can. If I can - "
In an hour the room was cleared of smoke, greasy cards, poker chips and
empty bottles. The bar was in a small room apart. The poker table,
supplemented with a box, was covered with a handsome altar cloth flanked
by huge silver candlesticks and vases which had been carried across the
plains. Every individual in the community came to church and stayed
afterward for the christening. At least twenty men expressed a wish to
be god-father to the baby and the proud mother accepted all offers. When
the christening was over, William Duncan lurched to his feet, his
high-bred face full of tenderness, his long-fingered, fine grained hands
poised over the rosy child, while he quoted:
"May time who sheds his blight o'er all,
And daily dooms some joy to death.
O'er thee let years so gently fall,
They shall not crush one flower beneath!"
"Ah, 'here comes the bride!' 'All the world's a stage!' Let us on with
the next scene," and he reeled back to his little table in the corner.
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