” Ennison dropped the evening paper which he had been pretending to read. And opposite to him, with a book in his hand,—but it couldn't be a prayer-book,—sat Jonathan Wild, in a parson's cassock and band. Skirting the noble gardens of Montague House, (now, we need scarcely say, the British Museum,) the party speedily reached Great Russell Street,—a quarter described by Strype, in his edition of old Stow's famous Survey, "as being graced with the best buildings in all Bloomsbury, and the best inhabited by the nobility and gentry, especially the north side, as having gardens behind the houses, and the prospect of the pleasant fields up to Hampstead and Highgate; insomuch that this place, by physicians, is esteemed the most healthful of any in London. “And yet I do it without compunction. These things did not harmonize with his conception of the forthcoming (if unavoidable) interview. By the time she was done, the bodies in the bathtub were gathering flies. “John, we should be getting out of here. "She is my lawful wife. “I had those beautiful roses from you on my first night, and a tiny little note but no address. That is not reasonable. ‘I’ve had enough of this. Jackson," said Kneebone, whose assiduity to Mrs.
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