You have neither reason nor logic. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. She tried to scream, \"I'm coming to you, Mama!\" But no sound would come from her mouth. In short, more preparations were made than if a state criminal was about to be executed. Don’t take my word for it though. He’ll do.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ1LjMyLjU2IC0gMTItMDctMjAyNCAwMjoxNzoxOCAtIDQ5Mzg0Nzg5NQ==
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