"I often have a kind of waking dream; up one road the image of
a man decked and adorned as if for a triumph, carried up by
rejoicing and exulting friends, who praise his goodness and
achievements; and, on the other road, turned back to back to
it, there is the very man himself, in sordid and squalid
apparel, surrounded not by friends but by ministers of
justice, and going on, while his friends are exulting, to his
certain and perhaps awful judgment."--R.W. CHURCH.
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