—"A famous university," observes Ned Ward, in the London Spy, "where, if a man has a mind to educate a hopeful child in the daring science of padding; the lightfingered subtlety of shoplifting: the excellent use of jack and crow; for the silently drawing bolts, and forcing barricades; with the knack of sweetening; or the most ingenious dexterity of picking pockets; let him but enter in this college on the Common Side, and confine him close to his study but for three months; and if he does not come out qualified to take any degree of villainy, he must be the most honest dunce that ever had the advantage of such eminent tutors. " The feminine vanities in Ruth were quiescent; nothing had ever occurred in her life to tingle them into action. "By my shalvation, boy," he added, fiercely, "if you don't take your hande off my peard, I'll sthrangle you. "Can you not love him?" "Love him!" echoed the widow. While this was taking place, another and more serious interruption occurred. Before her was a great Gothic portal. The other buildings stood close together in rows; and so valuable was every inch of room accounted, that, in many cases, cellars, and even habitable apartments, were constructed in the solid masonry of the piers. The chief scene of these disgusting orgies,—the cellar, just referred to,—was a large low-roofed vault, about four feet below the level of the street, perfectly dark, unless when illumined by a roaring fire, and candles stuck in pyramidal lumps of clay, with a range of butts and barrels at one end, and benches and tables at the other, where the prisoners, debtors, and malefactors male and female, assembled as long as their money lasted, and consumed the time in drinking, smoking, and gaming with cards and dice. Good riddance. For ten years I've been trying to go home, but my conscience will not permit me, I hate the Orient. \" She waved. She was perplexed by this, and stood for some seconds in the empty street hesitating, until the appearance of another circumspect woman under the street lamp at the corner reassured her. Every eye seemed focussed upon her; and yet she had known the sensation to be the conceit of her imagination.
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