Over an old crazy bedstead was thrown a squalid, patchwork counterpane; and upon the counterpane lay a black hood and scarf, a pair of bodice of the cumbrous form in vogue at the beginning of the last century, and some other articles of female attire. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. Wood was so much exhausted that he was obliged to retire to his own room, where he continued for some hours overpowered by grief. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. After a little further discourse the old man took his departure. D. “I’ll get dressed. Maggot: "I'm tired of you, and will go back to my old lover, Jack Sheppard.
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