The poor fellow's half smothered. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. Her tears dissipated as she began to convulse, completely devoid of any spare fluid. "By Heaven!" cried he in a tone of surprise, "you have an infant there?" "To be sure I have," replied Wood, angrily; for, finding that the intentions of the stranger were pacific, so far as he was concerned, he thought he might safely venture on a slight display of spirit.
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