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   Hear my cry, O God the Reader; vouchsafe that this mybook fall not still-born into the world wilderness. Let there spring, GentleOne, from out its leaves vigor of thought and thoughtful deed to reap theharvest wonderful. Let the ears of a guilty people tingle with truth, andseventy millions sigh for the righteousness which exalteth nations, in thisdrear day when human brotherhood is mockery and a snare. Thus in Thy good timemay infinite reason turn the tangle straight, and these crooked marks on afragile leaf be not indeed

   THE END