"I'm glad to hear it, that's all," he added, taking out his snuff-box, his never-failing resource in such emergencies. " Starting at a rapid pace in the direction of the Old Bailey, and crossing Fleet Bridge, "for oyster tubs renowned," the trio skirted the right bank of the muddy stream until they reached Fleet Lane, up which they hurried. In after years, some pitying hand supplied the inscription, which ran thus— JACK SHEPPARD THE END. Certainly not a gentlewoman. ‘Ah, the tragedy.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 09-09-2024 20:56:14
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