" New? That did not describe her. Mr. Were I a painter of subject pictures, I would exhaust all my skill in proportion and perspective and atmosphere upon the august seat of empire, I would present it gray and dignified and immense and respectable beyond any mere verbal description, and then, in vivid black and very small, I would put in those valiantly impertinent vans, squatting at the base of its altitudes and pouring out a swift, straggling rush of ominous little black objects, minute figures of determined women at war with the universe. ‘And we shall see which of us is more quick. But he was always forcing her to say and do such unexpectedly conclusive things. Conceiving himself called upon, as the intimate friend of the deceased, to pay this last tribute of respect to her memory, he appeared as one of the chief mourners. “You see,” said Ann Veronica, with the air of one who shares a difficulty, “I’ve promised to go. “I am going to break a covenant,” he cried. Here the ribs of a thousand pounds beating against the Needles— those dangerous rocks, credulity here floated, to and fro, silks, stuffs, camlets, and velvet, without giving place to each other, according to their dignity; here rolled so many pipes of canary, whose bungholes lying open, were so damaged that the merchant may go hoop for his money," A less picturesque, but more truthful, and, therefore, more melancholy description of the same scene, is furnished by the shrewd and satirical Ned Ward, who informs us, in the "Delectable History of Whittington's College," that "When the prisoners are disposed to recreate themselves with walking, they go up into a spacious room, called the Stone Hall; where, when you see them taking a turn together, it would puzzle one to know which is the gentleman, which the mechanic, and which the beggar, for they are all suited in the same garb of squalid poverty, making a spectacle of more pity than executions; only to be out at the elbows is in fashion here, and a great indecorum not to be threadbare. Then they dressed her in a dirty dress of coarse serge and a cap, and took away her own clothes. "Yes, now," rejoined the infuriated dame; "perhaps, I may never have another opportunity. "Do you realize that you are several kinds of a damned scoundrel?" he began. " "Mr. " CHAPTER V.
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