By B. G. Jefferis and J. L. Nichols
We can conceive few crimes beyond it. He who
plunders my property takes from me that which can be repaired by time;
but what period can repair a ruined reputation? He who maims my person
effects that which medicine may remedy; but what herb has sovereignty
over the wounds of slander? He who ridicules my poverty or reproaches
my profession, upbraids me with that which industry may retrieve, and
integrity may purify; but what riches shall redeem the bankrupt fame?
What power shall blanch the sullied show of character? There can be
no injury more deadly. There can be no crime more cruel. It is without
remedy. It is without antidote. It is without evasion.
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