"To be sure, it's not surprising the poor little thing should be so marked; for, when I lay in the women-felons' ward in Newgate, where he first saw the light, or at least such light as ever finds entrance into that gloomy place, I had nothing, whether sleeping or waking, but halters, and gibbets, and coffins, and such like horrible visions, for ever dancing round me! And then, you know, Sir—but, perhaps, you don't know that little Jack was born, a month before his time, on the very day his poor father suffered. Probably his first serious bout with John Barleycorn. They were those of the Irish watchman. A lean young man in spectacles pursued her for some time, crying “Courage! Courage!” Somebody threw a dab of mud at her, and some of it got down her neck. ’ She ended on a note of sheer frustration, clenched fists beating the air. "I've made no distinction between you, hitherto," answered Wood; "nor shall I do so, unless I'm compelled.
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