"Oh God! she is dying," exclaimed Jack in a voice suffocated by emotion. Trees were torn up by the roots; many houses were levelled to the ground; others were unroofed; the leads on the churches were ripped off, and "shrivelled up like scrolls of parchment. "Right!—right!" cried Jack, striking his fettered hands against his breast. " "God help me, what a muddle!" The cigar crumbled in Spurlock's hand. “Oh, it is okay. Wood's," said the latter, "since I find him at his own gate.
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