The String of Pearls; or, The Barber of Fleet Street — page 165: what you’re looking at

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

ae yz se £ Ce ch = te a sagen ; Sri aA SRST SIREN ONE EF IEG EGET GINO YSIS tesa eben “Surely,” he said, “ she might have been content to tell me she had discovered my plans, without adding this practical sneer to it.” | He lifted the letter from the floor, and found it was addressed “To Mrs. Lovett’s Cook, Bell Yard, Terple Bar ;” and what made it all the more pro- voking was, that it seemed to have come regularly through the post, for there were the official seal Rabie stamp upon it, Curiosity tempted him to open it, and he read as follows’ ta BF ZS gi P FF: Mids, bay, ‘“‘Srr—Having, in a most delicious pie, received the extraordinary communi- an Th | cation which you inserted in it, I take the earliest opportunity of replying to bit ap, you. The character of a highly respectable and pious woman is not, sir, to be ire wal whispered away in a pie by acook. When the whole bench of bishops were Mould, proved, in black and white, to be the greatest thieves and speculators in the ted i known world, it was their character that saved them, for, as people justly enough tion off, reasoned, bishops should be pious and just—therefore, a bishop cannot bea thief be regu} i and a liar! Now, sir, apply this little mandate to Mrs. Lovett, and assure your- ‘of the ie | self ; but no one will believe anything you can allege against a female with so t fates ail | fascinating a smile, and who attends to her religious duties so regularly. Reflect, lly a8 in | young man, on the evil that you have tried to do, and for the future learn to be tink, sa ‘| satisfied with the excellent situation you have. The pie was very good.” | ‘ ‘ I am, you bad young man, signed oy A Parishioner of St. Dunstan’s, 8 acta ice SWEENEY Topp.” ud actually “¢ Now was there ever such a piece of cool rascality as this?” cried the cook. : place will * Sweeney Todd—Todd—Todd. Who the devil is he? This is some scheme is the use. of Mrs. Loveit’s to drive me mad.” h He dashed the letter upon the floor. : ner | ‘Not another pie will I make! No—no—no, Welcome death—-welcome £ pari i that dissolution which may be my lot, rather than the contmued endurance of this terrible imprisonment, Am I, at my time of life, to be made the slave of | such a demon in human shape as this woman? Am I to grow old and grey here, a mere pie machine? No—no, death a thousand times rather !’’ Tears! yes, bitter scalding tears came to his relief, and he wept abundantly, but those tears were blessed, for as they flowed, the worst bitterness of his heart flowed with them, and he suddenly looked up, saying— | “‘T am only twenty-four.” | There was magic in the sound of those words. They seemed in themselves to | || contain a volume of philosophy. Only twenty-four. Should he, at that green and unripe age, get rid of hope. Should he, at twenty-four only, lie down and | | say— Let me die!” just because things had gone a little adverse, and he was the '| enforced cook of Mrs. Lovett ?” ‘‘No—no,” he said. ‘No, I will eudure much, and I will hope much Hitherto, it is true, I have been unsuccessful in what 1 have attempted for my release, but the diabolical cunning, even of this woman, may fail her at some moment, and I may have my time of revenge, No—no, I need not ask for re- venge, justice will do—common justice. 1 will keep myself alive. Hope shall be my guiding star. They shall not subuue the proud spirit they have succeeded in caging, quite so easily, I will not give up, I live and have youthful blood in my veins, I will not despair. Despair? No—Hence, fiend ‘J am as yet only | twenty-four. Ha—ha! Only twenty-four.” | eee ee comicbooks.com