Wood's. I, too, want to understand—to walk with my head in the light. The stranger started at the touch, and spoke. "At my first being acquainted with the place," says this writer, in the 'Miseries of a Prison,' "the prisoners, methought, walking up and down the Stone Hall, looked like so many wrecks upon the sea. The walls of the room were lined with shelves, on which were glass jars, retorts, countless bottles and many appliances of surgical science.
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