"Sir Cecil is no more. The crowd now dispersed amongst the fields, and thousands of persons were seen hurrying towards Tyburn as fast as their legs could carry them, leaping over hedges, and breaking down every impediment in their course. The starling, on which the carpenter stood, was the fourth from the Surrey shore. In the northwest angle, there was a small pen for female offenders, and, on the south, a more commodious enclosure appropriated to the master-debtors and strangers. Hoddy! All her fears fell away. “One doesn’t want to turn the whole thing into a mere sex antagonism.
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