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Right Ho, Jeeves by P. G. (Pelham Grenville) Wodehouse
page 49 of 357 (13%)
"Very good, sir."

And presently he returned with the vital essence.

I have had occasion, I fancy, to speak before now of these pick-me-ups of
Jeeves's and their effect on a fellow who is hanging to life by a thread
on the morning after. What they consist of, I couldn't tell you. He says
some kind of sauce, the yolk of a raw egg and a dash of red pepper, but
nothing will convince me that the thing doesn't go much deeper than that.
Be that as it may, however, the results of swallowing one are amazing.

For perhaps the split part of a second nothing happens. It is as though
all Nature waited breathless. Then, suddenly, it is as if the Last Trump
had sounded and Judgment Day set in with unusual severity.

Bonfires burst out all in parts of the frame. The abdomen becomes heavily
charged with molten lava. A great wind seems to blow through the world,
and the subject is aware of something resembling a steam hammer striking
the back of the head. During this phase, the ears ring loudly, the
eyeballs rotate and there is a tingling about the brow.

And then, just as you are feeling that you ought to ring up your lawyer
and see that your affairs are in order before it is too late, the whole
situation seems to clarify. The wind drops. The ears cease to ring. Birds
twitter. Brass bands start playing. The sun comes up over the horizon
with a jerk.

And a moment later all you are conscious of is a great peace.

As I drained the glass now, new life seemed to burgeon within me. I
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