50 \"You might mention her, but don't mention the Prom. It's mighty lonesome down there for a man bred to cities. Pitt, pointing to the prisoner. The intruder was handsomely, even richly, attired in a scarlet riding-suit, embroidered with gold; a broad belt, to which a hanger was attached, crossed his shoulders; his boots rose above his knee, and he carried a laced hat in his hand. Byby. "It is addressed to my mother," he added, as his eye glanced rapidly over it, "and by my father. “John, don’t!” she cried. In consequence of the encouragement thus offered to dishonesty, and the security afforded to crime, this quarter of the Borough of Southwark was accounted (at the period of our narrative) the grand receptacle of the superfluous villainy of the metropolis. ’ Then all at once remembrance made her smile. And, if I'd my own way, I'd drown 'em all like a litter o' puppies. Against the walls hung an assortment of staves, brown-bills, (weapons then borne by the watch,) muskets, handcuffs, great-coats, and lanterns. But I can tell you who'll have the pleasure of hanging your father's son; and that's a person not a hundred miles distant from you at this moment—ha! ha!" As he said this, the door was opened, and Charcam entered, accompanied by a dwarfish, shabby-looking man, in a brown serge frock, with coarse Jewish features, and a long red beard.
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