The Mysteries of London; or, Revelations of the British Metropolis — page 283: what you’re looking at

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

OF LONDON. 281 | Happy idiot, Rehoboat. The fashionable world of London would have raised a throne for the syren—a throne, the steps of which would have been of gold. Now all is at an end; and yet, ‘who can tell what the future may still have in | store for you, and for me, Susannah? Do you - remember—that I once promised you that you _ should see what it was—to be hanged? Come on . Thursday to the Old Bailey, my daughter, before sunrise, Be there: it is my wish—it is my last * wish—I will then keep my promise to you Miss Susannah. Let Rehoboam not fail to be there also ; and tell him to watch my slightest move- motite=1 shall have need of him, To our next meeting, Susannah, I do not believe in God, if I » did; I would say, God bless you. You may be : rich whenever you wish to be so—for you are _ beautiful, Try to wish it.” : ee Ce Be CHAPTER xvi. Auddhradly my lord, said the little Frenchwo- man to Tyrrel-—who, for some minutes past, had with great difficulty kept her tongue quiet—l have heard of the execution of that miscreant Ishmael Spencer, but 1 never thought he was so _ hardened as all this—tawrite such a letter as Boa -and when he was on the point of dying. to his. own daughter. As to myself, wheneper 1 shall ae my last hour approaching, | have ne doubt I 7 | shall begin to think of eternity, | + Ishimaet did what he chose to do, replied Tyne io] “4 t “eomicbooks, hy at rl aay