Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. " "Poor Jack!" sighed Thames. She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. She took her hat from the peg in the corner and began to put it on. Something about this woman rather reminds me of our hostess. His horse, which had apparently gone to sleep, preferred to remain where he was. " "What should I retract, villain?" cried the woollen-draper, who at the sound of Jack's voice had regained his confidence. She softened her tone and scrambled for the right words. ‘You cannot mean General Charvill?’ ‘That old martinet?’ exclaimed Roding. Darting to a window looking in that direction, Thames threw it up, and discharged both his pistols, but without effect. Baffled in their attempt, the mob uttered a roar, such as only a thousand angry voices can utter, and discharged a volley of missiles at the soldiery. A few seconds sufficed to clear the passage, through which it had previously cost him more than two hours to force his way.
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