He squinted and a disgusted look came over him. " "If I do, I care not," rejoined Wild; "I shall have lived to see you hanged. Past her shot the little old lady in the bonnet, running incredibly fast, but otherwise still alertly respectable, and she was making a strange threatening sound as she ran, such as one would use in driving ducks out of a garden—“B-rr-r-r-r—!” and pawing with black-gloved hands. The third time she escaped she reached the inconsequent barricade of the overturned table. To be sure, he was attentive, respectful; but in his conduct there was none of that shameless camaraderie of a man who loved his woman and didn't care a hang if all the world knew it. He moved, after quiet intervals, with a quick little movement, and ever and again stroked his small mustache and coughed a selfconscious cough. The latter no sooner beheld him than he dashed hastily into an adjoining room. The smell that emanated from the opening was abominable. “I don’t see what he has to do with my coming to London?” “He—he worships the ground you tread on. " "Whom do you mean?" demanded Jackson. ’ ‘Oh, that tragic pair,’ uttered her ladyship in saddened tones. Here the ribs of a thousand pounds beating against the Needles— those dangerous rocks, credulity here floated, to and fro, silks, stuffs, camlets, and velvet, without giving place to each other, according to their dignity; here rolled so many pipes of canary, whose bungholes lying open, were so damaged that the merchant may go hoop for his money," A less picturesque, but more truthful, and, therefore, more melancholy description of the same scene, is furnished by the shrewd and satirical Ned Ward, who informs us, in the "Delectable History of Whittington's College," that "When the prisoners are disposed to recreate themselves with walking, they go up into a spacious room, called the Stone Hall; where, when you see them taking a turn together, it would puzzle one to know which is the gentleman, which the mechanic, and which the beggar, for they are all suited in the same garb of squalid poverty, making a spectacle of more pity than executions; only to be out at the elbows is in fashion here, and a great indecorum not to be threadbare. "I can't help thinking of it, Sir," answered the widow.
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