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'" "'This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from the sea. There, that sounds frightfully involved, doesn’t it, but perhaps you can make out what I mean. Like most officers, he’d had it especially made, for a man who loved danger had need of a precision instrument of defence. Wood's daughter,—to whom, I've heard tell, he was attached years ago,—was brought up, his courage forsook him altogether, and he trembled, and could scarcely stand.
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