” He unfolded his serviette with fingers which shook all the time. There was a bare chance that he had been mistaken. “What on earth did you expect me to do, then?” he asked. At this moment she was staring ahead; and again came the opportunity to study her. . ‘You! Tell this fool who is the keeper here to come to me at once. 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. There are no funerals among the poor, only burials. 175 “Before you tell me the whole story,” she emphasized the penultimate word, “just let me do something for you.
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