He carried a small bag. “In the end,” it seemed to be thinking, “they embalmed me with the utmost respect—sound spices chosen to endure—the best! I took my world as I found it. Cowering in a corner upon a heap of straw sat his unfortunate mother, the complete wreck of what she had been. Yes, very well. It’s so different from what one has been led to expect. Above the work-table was a drop-light—kerosene. " "Very well, Sir," replied Austin, rising and walking towards them. "It is addressed to my mother," he added, as his eye glanced rapidly over it, "and by my father.
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