The Mysteries of London; or, Revelations of the British Metropolis — page 89: what you’re looking at

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

- OF LONDON. 87 His left leg became shertened; he limped, and moved in such a sidelong, crablike manner; that merely to look at him excited compassion. He ‘continually looked all around, to see that the i footpath was unpoluted by the presemce of police- _ men. He selected from the crowd an ald lady, in a large black bonnet, who coulé be nothing less’ than the widow of some respectable ship capCain. Bob dragged himself towards her, like a one ' masted vessel born down by a squall. My good lady, said he, in a low tene, close behind her, 1 have not swallowed a morsel for the last five days and a half. The lady quickened her steps. Oh! my good missus! rejoined Bob, take com- passion upon a poor unfortunate sailor, wounded at the great battle of Trafalgar, and on beard of the immortal Nelson’s own ship, I am so badly wounded that I cannot work, and am obliged to beg, I have nothing for you my good man, said the lady. Alas! added poor Bob, and shall J again to day, hold out a hand which Nelson himself has elasped ? The lady locked at-Bob’s hand. The name of Nelson has always athrilling effect upon an Hag lish heart. B Take pity upon me, my good missus, or I die at your feet uson the pavement. The lady searched through a large reticnle. and drew from it a crown piece, which was, perhaps, destined to pay the losses of a rubber of whist that evening, if fortune did not favour eo ‘ iged comichooks;com