The Mysteries of London; or, Revelations of the British Metropolis — page 275: what you’re looking at

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

@7 LONDON. 273 heard the leaden weapon’strike on the poor man’s head, but also felt at counter shock, and this at every blow. The e chair fell suddenly toward me. Iwo savage groans struck on my ears. Re- hoboam was no longer near me. With one spring he had leaped over the table which separated him from my father, and they were standing close to- gether. It was a fearful combat, Brian, a dread- ful struggle—in which one of the champions, al- ready wounded, had nothing to defend himself but his unweaponed hands; while the other was striking with a club, each blow of which might ‘ have proved mortal. But the unarmed man had to avenge twenty years of slavery and martyrdom. His face was in a moment covered with horrible bruises. He did not fall, however. because each blow being—if not parried effectually—yet, dead- ened by his uplifted hand, lost a considerable por- tion of itsforce. He was waiting dahiiasel went on blindly aiming at him. Their palpitating breathings blended together, and produced a frightful sound. In a short time, I saw, with great alarm, that Rehoboam’s arm, which he had held up to parry Ishmael’s blows, had fallen to his side. Ishmael’s uplifted club was falling with tremendous violence. [ thought the combat was atanend; and it was so in effect, Brian; but it was not Rehoboam who was conquered. With a - Movement rapid as lightning, he had avoided the mortal blow, and taking advantage of the mo- ment in whieh Ishmael was again raising his wea- pon, he seized him by the throat. My father, be- ing thus checked, could not even utteracry. Re- | 8 i\ ? ™~ Comicbhooksrcom ” ; Sate LT