"Halloa, widow!" shouted a rough voice from below, "where the devil are you?" Mrs. "My sister the wife of one condemned felon! the parent of another! It cannot be. MANNING,” she had begun. "How go you like your quarters, sauce-box?" asked Sharples, in a jeering tone. But she had not reckoned with the etiquette of Canongate. "The ban-dogs!" thundered a tall man, whose stature and former avocations had procured him the nickname of "The long drover of the Borough market. “You ARE a female thing at bottom,” he admitted. ‘They cannot be worse than mine in English, monsieur. .
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