‘They hold their nose up, so. The mob now directed their attention to Newgate; and, from their threats, appeared determined to fire it. What does she look like?’ ‘Black hair. ’ ‘Why the devil should you be interested, I should like to know?’ rejoined Roding. McClintock could not browbeat him, storm as he might. While the cloth was laid, the host and Thames descended to the cellar, whence they returned, laden with a number of flasks of the same form, and apparently destined to the same use as those depicted in Hogarth's delectable print—the Modern Midnight Conversation.
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