CHILDft 
OF NATURE 
I 
IT was late in April when John 
Foster's life, long sinking, like 
a flickering flame, suddenly 
went out. He was not an old 
man so far as years went, hut he 
had lived his life as completely as 
if his three-score had been length- 
ened into four-score years and ten. 
Those who knew him best, and 
they were few, had marked a sud- 
den change not long before ; a re- 
laxation of purpose in a face that 
had always reflected the man's 
[3] 
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SPI 
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