A white man, wandering about the streets of Canton at night, was a challenge to such a catastrophe. "Open my heart, Father of Mercy!" she murmured, in a humble tone, and with downcast looks, "and make me sensible of the error of my ways. You’re NOT to go. Wood was an old friend of mine—and I recollect seeing Jack when he was bound 'prentice to him. ‘Coward,’ she threw at him, brandishing the sword. Why should she trouble herself over that young fool, who was nothing to her; who, when he eventually sobered up, would not be able to recognize her, or if he did, as something phantasmagorical? Perhaps he should not apply the term "fool"; "unfortunate" might be the more accurate application.
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