The Gift of the Sailor: The String of Pearls & Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street — page 200: what you’re looking at

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

“Do you?” said the ostler; “now, this here dog is a partickler friend of mine, so you see I can’t have it done. What do you say to that now, old stick in-the-mud? If you walk into him, you must walk through me first. Only just put down that razor, and I’ Il give you such a wolloping, big as you are, that you’! recollect for some time.” “Down with the razor! Down with the razor!” cried the mob, who was now every moment increasing. Johanna stood like one transfixed for a few moments in the middle of all this tumult, and then she said with a shudder— “What ought I to do?” “Come away at once, I implore you,” said Arabella Wilmot. “Come away, I implore you, Johanna, for my sake as well as for your own. You have already done all that can be done. Oh, Johanna, are you distracted?” “No—no. I will come—I will come.” They hastily left the spot and hurried away in the direction of Ludgate Hill, but the confusion at the shop door of the barber did not terminate for some time. The people took the part of the dog and his new master, and it was in vain that Sweeney Todd exhibited his rent garments to show where he had been attacked by the animal. Shouts of laughter and various satirical allusions to his beauty were the only response. Suddenly, without a word, Todd then gave up the contest and retired into his shop, upon which the ostler conveyed Pison over the way and shut him up in one of the stables of the Bullfinch. Todd, it is true, retired to his shop with an appearance of equanimity, but it was like most appearances in this world—rather deceitful. The moment the door was closed between him and observation he ground his teeth together and positively howled with rage. “The time will come—the time will come,” he said, “when I shall have the joy of seeing Fleet Street in a blaze, and of hearing the shrieks of those who are frying in the flames. Oh, that I could with one torch ignite London, and sweep it and all its inhabitants from the face of the earth. Oh, that all those who are now without my shop had but one throat. Ha! ha! how I would cut it.” He caught up a razor as he spoke, and threw himself into a ferocious attitude at the moment that the door opened, and a gentleman neatly dressed looked in, saying— “Do you dress artificial hair?” JOINTS ING) GOnMG oOo SS CO)