He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience. " Thames hastily cast his eyes over it, and transferred it, with a look of incredulity, to Wood. "So, you're admiring my cabinet, Sir Rowland," he remarked, with a sinister smile; "it is generally admired; and, sometimes by parties who afterwards contribute to the collection themselves,—ha! ha! This skull," he added, pointing to a fragment of mortality in the case beside them, "once belonged to Tom Sheppard, the father of the lad I spoke of just now. It was still raining heavily, and profoundly dark. He had something across his knees. "No Mohocks! No Scourers!" cried the mob.
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