Tag Archives: Herbert Butterfield

Armageddon

And I saw the dead, small and great, stand before God; and the books were opened: and another book was opened, which is the book of life: and the dead were judged out of those things which were written in … Continue reading

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Sacred Tears

Let the tears which fell, and the broken words which were exchanged in the long close embrace between the orphans, be sacred. A father, sister, and mother, were gained, and lost, in that one moment. Joy and grief were mingled … Continue reading

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The Eyes of the Heart

Old Man. O, my good lord, I have been your tenant, and your father’s tenant, these fourscore years. Glou. Away, get thee away! Good friend, be gone; Thy comforts can do me no good at all; Thee they may hurt. … Continue reading

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Blood, Hearth, and Faith

Dickson groaned. What had become of his dream of idylls, his gentle bookish romance? Vanished before a reality which smacked horribly of crude melodrama and possibly of sordid crime. His gorge rose at the picture, but a thought troubled him. … Continue reading

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