He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self. 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. Marvel was almost dislodged from his seat on the coffin by a dead dog, which was hurled against him, and struck him in the face. ’ ‘That’s easy. Glad to get back, I’m sure,” he said briskly. Ben watched these manoeuvres with great interest, and strained every sinew in his frame to keep ahead of the other boats. It reverberated in the silence. The south or principal front, looking, down the Old Bailey, and not upon it, as is the case of the present structure, with its massive walls of roughened freestone,—in some places darkened by the smoke, in others blanched, by exposure to the weather,—its heavy projecting cornice, its unglazed doubly-grated windows, its gloomy porch decorated with fetters, and defended by an enormous iron door, had a stern and striking effect. A dreamy sense of content crept over him.
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