1829.]] Journey from Whitechapfl tu Highgale Archway. 371 



beheld a crowd assembled round the di'op in front of the Debtors'-door, 

 Newgate. I did not know it was execution morning, or, I am sure, I 

 should have gone roundabouts. The very idea of what was going to take 

 place made me feel quite sick — the more so, because it was upon an 

 empty stomach ; for I had taken nothing before I came out, as we 

 intended to breakfast at Mother Red Cap's, which, I understood, was at 

 the further extremity of Camden Town. We asked who was going to be 

 hung, and they said three men and a woman. IMy companion wanted 

 to stay, and see them turned off; but I turned away, and wouldn't. 

 Going up Holborn Hill, however, I gave a penny for an account of 

 their execution, with their last dying speech and confession ; though I 

 could not at all understand how it could be published so soon. But it 

 was painfully interesting ; and I read the whole of it to Thompson, as 

 we walked along Leather Lane. Some parts of it brought very forcibly 

 to my mind the tragedy of " George Barnwell," which I saw three 

 years ago at the play ; when it made me cry so, though it was Christmas 

 week, that I was hardly able to laugh afterwards at young Grimaldi, in 

 the pantomime, who eat nearly three yards of sausages ; and uncom- 

 monly like they were to the real ones we sell at home. 



When we arrived at the top of Leather Lane, we paused for a moment, 

 undetermined whether to proceed by the way of Cold Bath Fields and 

 Spa Fields, or by Liquorpond Street and Gray's-Inn Road. I soon 

 made my choice, however ; and the reason I urged in support of it had 

 its due weight with my companion. — " Haven't we come," said I, " to 

 see the country ? Let us, then, get into the fields as soon as we can." — 

 So we left Liquorpond Street on our left, and went straight forwards 

 down a sort of winding declivity ; but, to my great surprise, there 

 wasn't a bit of fields to be seen. Cold Bath Fields was a prison, and 

 Spa Fields all streets. I asked a queer-looking chap, who was saddling 

 a donkey, where we should find the green fields. Looking at me, as if 

 he thought I was a green 'un myself, he hitched up his breeches with 

 both hands, and replied with a low grin, " Why, I thinks they're gone 

 out of town !" My companion laughed at the fellow ; but, for my part, 

 I was so exasperated with the rascal's impertinence, that I could not help 

 exclaiming fiercely, " I only wish I was a httle bigger ; you should see 

 whether I wouldn't teach you to give a civil answer to a civil question !" 

 — when, calling after me as loud as ever he could, he bawled out, " I 

 say, little as you are, you're big enough to know better than that ere 

 though." 



This ruffled my temper ; and it was not till we arrived at Pentonville, 

 that I again felt a sensation of hunger, as if I wanted my breakfast. _ I 

 had never been at Pentonville before, and I was much struck with its 

 appearance. The houses are all built of brick, with neat, picturesque 

 gardens in front ; but they were terribly dusty, owing, I was informed, 

 to the Paddington stages, which all run that road. One of them, called 

 " The Safety Coach," had just been overturned, opposite the Belvidere 

 Tavern. It seemed to me very improper to call such a vehicle a safety- 

 coach ; for one of the outside passengers had been killed, and two others 

 had their legs broken. One of the latter was sitting on the footpath, 

 trying to mend his leg with his pocket-handkerchief. It was a wooden 

 one ; and I could not help thinking how fortunate he was in having 

 such a leg ready for an accident like this, compared with his fellow- 

 traveller, wlio had fractured a regular leg. 



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