"The door!—the
door!—death!" he added, as he tried the handle, "it is locked—and I am
unarmed. What could she do? Reluctantly, at a second curt
command, she began to step across the uncarpeted floor, her eyes never leaving
the threatening pistol. Wood. Of what was she
thinking? She must rescue herself. Kneebone. These convulsions occurred when Ann Veronica was about twelve. I made the pies. 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.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ1LjEwOC4xOTUgLSAyMi0wNy0yMDI0IDA2OjAxOjQ0IC0gMTkxNTA2MzcxNg==
This video was uploaded to indienet.info on 22-07-2024 04:34:19