Sheppard, who made no resistance, along with him, entered the house, the door of which was instantly shut and barricaded. Smith, placing his hand on his breast. A lesson learned. "Because—because I'm always distrustful of a priest," rejoined Jonathan. Sheppard, with a laugh that cut the ears of those who listened to it like a razor,—"Do not despair! And who or what shall give me comfort when my son is gone? I have wept till my eyes are dry,—suffered till my heart is broken,—prayed till the voice of prayer is dumb,—and all of no avail.
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