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” He admonished. At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard. " "Don't be angry with me, Sir," cried the widow, sobbing bitterly, "pray don't. "What of that," rejoined Jonathan. That poor child, trying to escape, and not knowing how. She went up-stairs and hesitated between four doors with ground-glass panes, each of which professed “The Women’s Bond of Freedom” in neat black letters. It was about twelve feet high, nine wide, and fourteen long; and was approached by double doors each six inches thick.
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