Wood, in deploring his wild career, adverted to the melancholy condition to which it had reduced his mother. " "Your husband?" "No. Horrors abounded in every passageway as each turn could bring a vision of a poor woman running from her screaming plague-infested son or a bloated corpse of a rich man whose mouth lolled open, showing gaps where someone had pried out a few golden teeth. Drenched to the skin,—in fact, he had been lying in a bed of muddy water,—and chilled to the very bone, he felt so stiff, that he could scarcely move. Gave me a purse, and told me to take both of ’em up to Harwich and put them on a packet for Holland.
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