In my darkest hours, when I feel
that all is lost, when hope seems to soar away from me to the far-off
heavens from which she first descended to this world, these letters, which
I often read, and over which I have so often wept grateful tears, give me
strength and courage to face the struggle before me. My most earnest prayer
to God has been that I may do some good to compensate in some measure for
the talent which he gave me, and which I have so sadly wasted. I have
avoided mentioning the names of the many dear friends who have not forsaken
me in this last extremity. As I write, name after name, dear to memory,
crowds into my mind. I can hardly refrain from giving them a place on these
pages, but to mention a few would be manifestly unjust to the remainder,
and it is out of my power to print all of them in the space which could be
afforded in this small book. But I wish to assure every man and woman who
has ever given me a kind word of encouragement, or even a kind look, that
they are not and never will be forgotten. Whatever my future fate may be,
you did your duty, and God will bless you. Your names are all sacred to me.
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