Satisfied, as he thought, that he had nothing to apprehend, the boy resumed his task, chanting, as he plied his knife with redoubled assiduity, the following—not inappropriate strains:— THE NEWGATE STONE. "Confusion!" he cried; "something has happened. " This placard was adorned with a rude wood-cut, representing the unhappy malefactor at the place of execution. "That was the lad's name," returned the stranger. She held it down with the poker, looking nervously over her shoulder.
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