Gone were the old days where an old maid banged on an upright piano above a roaring crowd, this sound was loud enough to be heard outside the building, she thought to herself as her eardrums throbbed. As usual, however, on the occasion of any great calamity, a crowd was scouring the streets, whose sole object was plunder. Satisfied, as he thought, that he had nothing to apprehend, the boy resumed his task, chanting, as he plied his knife with redoubled assiduity, the following—not inappropriate strains:— THE NEWGATE STONE. Twice she smiled, but not unkindly. ’ She spread her hands.
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