The String of Pearls; or, The Barber of Fleet Street — page 119: what you’re looking at

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

THE STRING OF PEARLS. = 111 ears of the unfortunate man who was thus made a victim to Mrs. Lovett’s pie | popularity. ~ “Continue at your work,” said the voice, ‘or death will be your portion as soon || a8 sleep overcomes you, and you sink exhausted to that repose which you will | never awaken from, except to feel the pangs of death, and to be conscious that you are weltering in your blood. Continue.at your work, and you will escape all this— neglect it, and your doom is sealed.’’ | * What have 1 done that I should be made such a victim of? Let me go, andl | will swear never to divulge the fact that I have been in these vaults, so 1 cannot | disclose any of their secrets, even if knew them.” | “ Make pies,” said the voice, “eat them, and be happy. How many a man would || envy your position—~withdrawn from all the struggles of existence, amply provided with board and lodging, and engaged in a pleasant and delightful occupation; it is astonishing how you can be dissatisfied !” | Bang! went the liitle square orifice at the top of the door, and the voice was heard no more. ‘The jeering mockery of those tones, however, still lingered upon the ear of the unhappy prisoner, and he clasped his head in his hands with a fearful | impression upon his brain that he surely must be going mad. : ‘«‘ He will drive me to insanity,” he cried; “already I feel a sort of slumber | stealing over me for want of exercise, and the confined air of these vaults hinder me from taking regular repose; but now, it I close an eye, I shall expect to find || the assassin’s knife at my throat.” - | He sat for some time longer, and not even the dread he had of sleep could pre- | vent a drowsiness creeping across his faculties, and this weariness would not be | shaken off by any ordinary means, until at length he sprang to his feet, and shaking | himself roughly, like one determined to be wide awake, he said to himself, | mournfully— | ‘| **T must do their bidding or die; hope may be a delusion here, but I cannot | || altogether abandon it, and not until its famtest image has departed from my breast || '| can I lie down to sleep and say—Let death come in any shape it may,—it is | '| welcome.” | With a desperate and despairing energy he set about replenishing the furnaces || of the oven, and, when he had got them all in a good state, he commenced manu- | '| facturing a batch of one hundred pies, which, when he had finished and placed upon | || the tray, and set the machine in motion which conducted them up to the shop, he '| considered to be a sort of price paid for his continued existence, and flinging him | | self upon the ground, he fell into a deep slumber, | CHAPTER XXI. THE NIGHT AT THE MADHOUSE, WueEN Sweeney Todd had, with such diabolical want of feeling, whispered the || few words of mockery which we have recorded in Tobias’s ear, when he was carried | out of Mr, Fogg’s reception-room to be taken to a cell, the villanous barber drew || back and indulged in rather a longer laugh than usual. . “Mr. Todd,” said Foge, “I find that you still retain your habit of merriment ; but yours ain’t the most comfortable laugh in the world, and we seldom hear any- || thing equal to it, even from one of our cells.” | | “No!” said Sweeney Todd, “I don’t suppose you do, and for my part I never |, || heard of a cell laughing yet.” | “Oh! you know what I mean, Mr. Todd, well enough.” ‘That may be,” said Todd, “ but it would be just as well to say it for all that. | | L think, however, as I came in you said something about refreshment ?” Pod Comicbooks.com