The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 289: what you’re looking at

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

298 THE COURT OF LONDON ‘‘ Then I fell into a stupor, which lasted for two or three hours, — I know not exactly how long; and, on starting up, I was seized with a horror so profound, an anguish so intense, @ panic so insuperable, that, forgetful of the dangers which environed me, I turned to flee from the scene of my atrocious pastime. Yes, I turned and fled; but in a moment there was an explosion, — I had trodden upon the wire whence I had previously cut a portion away, —and my body received the contents of the accursed spring-gun. Oh, horror! what were my feelings at that moment. Ten million harrowing thoughts flashed through my brain swiftly as a flight of arrows cleaves the air, — thoughts of capture, trial, con- demnation, and death upon the scaffold. But the next instant I shook myself like a dog on emerging from the water, and though in every part of my body I experienced the tortures of the damned, I found that I was not com- pletely disabled. Dragging myself from the grass into the pathway, I stopped for a few moments to bind up the only wound that was bleeding very seriously, and then, with a celerity that was marvellous considering the shocking state I was in, I rushed from the scene of my crime and its punish- ment. “ An alarm was already raised in the neighbourhood by the explosion of the gun; but I got off in safety, and as the pain caused by my wounds was presently succeeded by a strange numbness all over my frame, I was enabled to drag myself along through the by-streets into which I had entered. It was in the northwestern suburbs of London that my exploit of this memorable night had taken place, and I bent my way toward the eastern districts. In fine, at the expiration of about three hours I entered the maze of wretched streets, filthy alleys, and vile courts which consti- tute Whitechapel; and, almost perishing with exhaustion, I sank down on the door-step of a large building which looked gloomy as a prison in the obscurity of the night. It proved to be the workhouse, and when the door opened, I demanded admission. This was granted when it was understood that I had been severely wounded, — and to account for which I invented some tale. But, behold! it was destined by Providence that beneath the roof of the pauper asylum I should meet my own children, whom necessity had ren- dered inmates there.” GoOmicsooks (E(0)