" "And I trust you will never have occasion to weep again, my poor soul," replied Wood, setting down his lantern, and brushing a few drops from his eyes, "unless it be tears of joy. We shall have a reg'lar squall afore we gets across. She did not want particularly to know what had caused his agony, what had driven him back to the old coat. ’ He reached into an inner pocket of his coat and brought out a packet of papers. “I’ve got bad faults. The shouts, yells, and groans which they uttered, and which were echoed by the concourse in the rear, were perfectly frightful. “And I’m not happy.
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