Unlocking several doors, he came to a dark vault, that would have rivalled the gloomiest cell in Newgate, into which he thrust Thames, and fastened the door. A stout wooden shutter, opening inwardly, being removed, disclosed a grating of iron bars. "'Sblood! what's this!" cried Jonathan, in the utmost surprise. Ramage demurred. "We were talking shop," said McClintock, rising. Both had very singular faces; very odd wigs, very much pulled over their brows; and very large cravats, very much raised above their chins. She rambles continually about Jack, and her husband, and that wretch Jonathan, to whom, as far as can be gathered from her wild ravings, she attributes all her misery. But it is all very different. He had only been prevented, indeed, by a fear of Mrs.
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