"The pocket-book you prigged contained the letters I wanted. Then the bridge had arched gateways, bristling with spikes, and garnished (as all ancient gateways ought to be) with the heads of traitors. " And he struck up the following ballad:— SAINT GILES'S BOWL. The necessity which had previously existed of leaving the ghastly evidence of the murderous deed undisturbed,—the presence of the mangled corpse,—the bustle of the inquest, at which her attendance was required,—all these circumstances produced a harrowing effect upon the young girl's imagination. She felt her own body stir, ready for more. "But I agree with Hogarth, that he is precisely the person to do what he has done.
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