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me, run to meet me, caper and frisk when he saw me bringing his milk, follow me around until they called me "Mary." I do believe that I watched with as affectionate eys[[eyes]] as ever human was blessed with, my lamb grow, day by day, through all that happy summer- and Oh, I think that I have never yet felt deeper sorrow than I did on that chilly, frosty morning in late Autumn when I stooped by his side, down in the stable where pa had carried him, and saw that he was dying. His sweet eyes looked into mine so pitifully, and he did not even bleat when I called his name, which well nigh broke my heart. It all even brings tears to my eyes now, as I think of it. I think we sometimes think of children's sorrows as sort of trivial, but I tell all you they are not.
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