"Iss, Massa. The jealous burn at his eyes subsided and his finger came up. Alarmed by these prognostications of a storm, and feeling too much exhausted from his late severe treatment to proceed further on foot, Wood endeavoured to find a tavern where he might warm and otherwise refresh himself. 'Whoso giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord;' that's my comfort. Sheer calculation on his.
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