At this juncture, a cry burst from the child, who, nearly smothered by the weight imposed upon him, only recovered the use of his lungs as Wood altered the position of the bundle. “How old are you?” “Sixteen. ToC Monday, the 31st of August 1724,—a day long afterwards remembered by the officers of Newgate,—was distinguished by an unusual influx of visitors to the Lodge. And God had let him do it! He was—and now he perfectly understood that he was—treading the queerest labyrinth a man had ever entered. She wondered who the girl might belong to as she patted dirt over the shallow grave.
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