The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 301: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

OCCURRENCES IN NEWGATE 271 | of misdeeds; but there were two countenances which struck her as being more deeply stamped with crime and more darkly indicative of human infamy than all the rest. Indeed, it was with a cold shudder that she gazed upon those two individuals who had thus particularly attracted her notice, and who were evidently waiting with a surly impatience for the arrival of their dinner. The friendly turnkey, of whom Caroline purchased the various privileges and indulgences which she enjoyed, was lounging at one end of the hall, keeping watch upon those persons who were now entering the prison; and the impulse of curiosity led her to accost him with an inquiry relative to the two ill-looking fellows who had so especially engaged her attention. ‘Who are they, miss?” ejaculated the turnkey, repeating the query which she had put to him; “ why, the most noto- riousest scoundrels in. all Europe! That fellow with the sav- age look is called the Magsman, though his proper name is Joe Warren; t’other chap is called the Big Beggarman, though his real name is Stephen Price. They’re going to be tried by the Admiralty Court for piracy, murder, and God | knows what all. That fellow the Magsman once escaped out of this gaol in a most extraordinary fashion — But see how savage he and his pal look because their dinner hasn’t come yet. They’re the only two men waiting at the iron bars, and won’t Carrotty Poll catch it when she comes? ”’ ‘Who is the female you have named?” inquired Miss Walters. “ The Big Beggarman’s daughter,’’ responded the turnkey. “She always — or nearly always — comes herself with the dinner — ” ‘“‘ T suppose she lives hard by, then? ”’ ‘“ Not at all, miss. She keeps a low public at Horslydown, but she generally comes up to see her father and his pal at midday, and so she brings in their dinner with her. Lord bless ye, miss, there’s no want of money in that quarter, and you'll presently see her come with a devilish nice dinner for those rascals, — a pair of fowls with broiled ham, may be, or a pigeon pie— But here she is.”’ “Good morning, Mr. Pigman,” said Carrotty Poll, be- stowing this passing compliment upon the turnkey as she entered the hall at the moment. Then, hurrying toward the COU Doo SS} m