"And I have touched him.

Where is the vinegar-bottle?
I must sprinkle myself directly, and rub myself from head to foot with oil of hartshorn and spirits of sulphur.

Mother! dear mother! you have taken away my medicine-chest.

If you love me, go and fetch me a little conserve of Roman wormwood and mithridate.

You will find them in two small jars." "Oh yes, do," cried Patience; "or he may die with fright." Moved by their joint entreaties, old Josyna again departed; and her back was no sooner turned, than Patience said in an undertone to Pillichody,--"Now is your time.