"Aha!" exclaimed Jonathan, acting upon the information he had obtained from Wood; "I have found you at last. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. Amid a litter of nails without heads, screws without worms, and locks without wards, lay a glue-pot and an oilstone, two articles which their owner was wont to term "his right hand and his left. Be kind to her. She continued to fan herself. .
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