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Tell her, that more than once, when about to commit some desperate offence, I have been restrained by her gentle image. Drenched to the skin,—in fact, he had been lying in a bed of muddy water,—and chilled to the very bone, he felt so stiff, that he could scarcely move. Here he halted; and, looking upwards, read, at the foot of an immense sign-board, displaying a gaudily-painted angel with expanded pinions and an olive-branch, not the name he expected to find, but that of WILLIAM KNEEBONE, WOOLLENDRAPER. "I am no man's mistress," answered the widow, crimsoning to her temples, but preserving her meek deportment, and humble tone. She knew that her voice was superior to Annabel’s, and she had no further qualms.

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