You must know, Sir, when he was a lad, the day after he broke into his master's house in Wych Street, he picked a gentleman's pocket in our church, during sarvice time,—that he did, the heathen. . A terrible spectacle was presented to the young man's gaze:—the floor deluged with blood—the mangled and lifeless body of Mrs. Not that there had ever been any hope of that. No sterner head was ever beheld beneath the cowl of a monk, or the bonnet of an inquisitor.
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