. . After what seemed like an eternity he turned right onto a dirt road that ended unceremoniously at a copse of leafless trees. Urging his steed along Oxford Road,— as that great approach to the metropolis was then termed,—he soon passed Marylebone Lane, beyond which, with the exception of a few scattered houses, the country was completely open on the right, and laid out in pleasant fields and gardens; nor did he draw in the rein until he arrived at Tyburn-gate, where, before he turned off upon the Edgeware Road, he halted for a moment, to glance at the place of execution. “Thank you. ” “Well, you see, something has happened at home.
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