Few men could have done as much. 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. " "Here are your despatches," said Jonathan with a significant look, and giving him a sealed packet. Her voice was soft and singularly musical; but from time to time she uttered old-fashioned words which forced him to grope mentally. Stanley, standing up with a sudden geniality and rubbing his hands together. She regarded him coldly, as though wondering whether he had anything further to say. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. "She is saying that you, a woman, will readily understand the position in which she finds herself. "Have you got Jonathan out of the way?" he asked, in an eager whisper. I'll tell you what. I can. ’ ‘There is no need for this,’ he ventured mildly, and lifted his finger to show his own pistol was not cocked. ” She looked at him wistfully, but with some unwilling doubt in her wrinkled forehead. Basically a kindly man but made cynical and derisive by sordid contacts, O'Higgins had almost forgotten that there was such a thing as unselfishness.
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