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OOD people have you nothing to give her? Nothing that’s nourihing.

Run, huband, run, and fetch a bottle of wine from the landlord of the inn.

No, no—his wine is as bad as his heart: he has drank ome of it, which I am afraid has turned to poion."

Suppoe, wife, you look for a new-laid egg?

Or a drop of brandy, huband—that motly cures me.

Do you hear, mother—will you, mother? [Agatha makes a ign with her hand as if he could not take any thing.] She will not. Is there no doctor in this neighbourhood?

At the end of the village there lives a hore-doctor. I have never heard of any-other.