I was the last on board. He fancied that the whole fabric of the bridge was cracking over head,—that the arch was tumbling upon him,—that the torrent was swelling around him, whirling him off, and about to bury him in the deafening abyss. Take it," he cried, lifting the babe from the bottom of the boat, and flinging it towards its unfortunate father. The man’s passion was infectious. A creature of convenience, she could have cared less if her children were carried away by drunkards on the street. Having ascertained that Thames was at his heels, he hurried with his ghastly burthen down Seacoal Lane.
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