This gate, called Newgate, "as being latelier builded
than the rest," continued, for upwards of three hundred years, to be used as a
place of imprisonment for felons and trespassers; at the end of which time,
having grown old, ruinous, and "horribly loathsome," it was rebuilt and enlarged
by the executors of the renowned Sir Richard Whittington, the Lord Mayor of
London: whence it afterwards obtained amongst a certain class of students,
whose examinations were conducted with some strictness at the Old Bailey, and
their highest degrees taken at Hyde-park-corner, the appellation of Whittington's
College, or, more briefly, the Whit. “Your best route will be via Boulogne and Folkestone at
nine o’clock from the Gare du Nord. She was frightfully hungry. ’ As a matter of fact, I
am not. “One moment, if you please!”
She stopped short and looked round. Figg! In a few minutes,
all will be over. Good riddance to bad rubbish. The noise startled the apprentice, who instantly
suspended his labour, and gazed anxiously in the direction whence he supposed
it proceeded. Arrived at the secret door, she grasped the lever that opened
it and placed the lantern on the floor. “A girl needs her mother most exactly when
she thinks she doesn’t. —Sorry to quit your lord—worships, I mean,—I don't know
what I mean," she added, a little confused, and dropping a profound curtsey to
the disguised noblemen, each of whom replied by a bow, worthy, in her opinion,
of a prince of the blood at the least,—"but I've a few necessary orders to give
below.
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This video was uploaded to desenez.net on 08-07-2024 14:58:29