Then he threw the letter at me. Spurlock was basically a poet, quick to recognize beauty, animate or inanimate, and to transcribe it in unuttered words. " "Wait a bit, massa," replied the grinning negro,—"lilly bit—see all right fust. Wood, however, was too much excited to attend to the caution. People think it is, but they are wrong. Accordingly, having given Wood such directions as he thought necessary for his guidance, and received a handsome gratuity in return for his services, he departed. I must have been very wound up.
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