ToC Monday, the 31st of August 1724,—a day long afterwards remembered by the officers of Newgate,—was distinguished by an unusual influx of visitors to the Lodge. To many in that crowded solitude it came as an extraordinary relief. "Heaven be praised, I am not the son of a nobleman. ‘After all the threats you’ve made, that is hardly fair. " The air in the narrow street, which was not eight feet wide, swarmed with smells impossible to define; but all at once the pleasantly pungent odour of Chinese incense drifted across the girl's face, and gratefully she quickened her inhalations. "At my first being acquainted with the place," says this writer, in the 'Miseries of a Prison,' "the prisoners, methought, walking up and down the Stone Hall, looked like so many wrecks upon the sea. ‘Rather thought I’d have to disarm you when you heard of it. Gerald raised a questioning eyebrow.
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