“I can see you and Anna groaning and nodding your grave heads together. I won't dig their graves with my nails. “Pump, pump, per-um-pump, Pum, Pump, Per-um. Satisfied, as he thought, that he had nothing to apprehend, the boy resumed his task, chanting, as he plied his knife with redoubled assiduity, the following—not inappropriate strains:— THE NEWGATE STONE. Mr. “The fool I have been!” he cried; and now speech was coming to him. I have—run away. —The general who gives an order for wholesale carnage never sleeps a wink the less soundly for the midnight groans of his victims, and we should deride him as a coward if he did.
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