Spurling, formerly, it may be remembered, the hostess of the Dark House at Queenhithe,—whence wine, ale, and brandy of inferior quality were dispensed, in false measures, and at high prices, throughout the prison, which in noise and debauchery rivalled, if it did not surpass, the lowest tavern. "Have a little patience, Sir," rejoined the jailer. He is all kindness, and will overlook them for your poor father's sake —for mine. His eyes were fixed upon her face, but he opened his lips twice before he spoke. Anyone else who finds out must be killed, otherwise, you insure death or worse for us. "Good gracious! so I do," exclaimed his amiable consort. But, bloodan'-'ouns! man, if ould Nick himself were to hit me a blow, I'd be afther givin' him another. Jonathan Wild must have stolen it from her.
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