The Mysteries of London; or, Revelations of the British Metropolis — page 261: what you’re looking at

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

f ~ -a< _—" see Pe es > fae > — - ce Prog oe ter ' ; ‘pression upon me. took ia pressed his lips to it; and then agen OF LONDON. 859 your father, Ishmael Spencer, will be hanged, Miss Susannah. What does that mean, sir, in- quired I, to be hanged? His smile forsook him for a moment, and a nervous agitation contracted his lips. It is avery pretty sort of thing, replied Ishmael ; I promise that I will show it to you some day. an idea of human ound. who had so much difficulty in repeiling the belief that crime deserves a recompense in this world? / The room which my father called his study, ‘was a vast laboratory, where numbers of the most | dissimilar objects were strewed pell mell together. At the farther end, to the right of the door, there was a boarded partition, similar to those which are sometimes seen in public houses. This partition formed a small office, in which was seat: ed Rehoboam. How had one year altered his ap- pearance. His cheeks, pale and sunken, wereco- — vered with a dirty and uncombed beard ; his hair had grown so long that it fell over his shoulders. He had all the look of an old man, timid, sickly and worn out. , I held out my hand to him, which; Hp saucy i? 0: Bip + ‘a (| comicbooks. com