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All they left it was the moon and stars. Once over the iron spikes, Bess exhibited no reluctance to be let down on the other side of the wall. "It is with no small concern," writes an anonymous historian of Newgate, "that I am obliged to observe that the women in every ward of this prison are exceedingly worse than the worst of the men not only in respect to their mode of living, but more especially as to their conversation, which, to their great shame, is as profane and wicked as hell itself can possibly be. The hymnal lyrics had never stirred her; she had memorized and sung them parrotwise. ‘Not at all ladylike. “Flesh and flowers are all alike to me.
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