"I'll need a job when I quit this bed. " "Gem'men o' the votch!" cried Sharples, as loudly as a wheezy cough would permit him, "my noble pris'ner—ough! ough;—the Markis o' Slaughterford ——" Further speech was cut short by a volley of execrations from the angry guardians of the night. On the next morning—Sunday—the day on which he expected his mother's funeral to take place, he set out along the Harrow Road. " "Merciful providence!" exclaimed the female. “Both!” said Ann Veronica. Byrom,—a poet of whom his native town, Manchester, may be justly proud; and his features and figure have been preserved by the most illustrious of his companions on the present occasion,—Hogarth,—in the levée in the "Rake's Progress," and in "Southwark Fair. John, he was between me and the door. It’s just upon my lunch-time.
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