"I can never get poor Tom's last look out of my head, as he stood in the Stone-Hall at Newgate, after his irons had been knocked off, unless I manage to stupify myself somehow. I could never make you understand. I’ll show it to you later. “Thanks, Mister McCloskey. So dreadful were these shouts as to produce an effect upon the hardened feelings of Jonathan, who shrank out of sight. Before he could recover from the stunning effects of the blow, Wood possessed himself of the child: and, untying the noose which had been slipped round its throat, had the satisfaction of hearing it cry lustily. It was like the grin of a fiend, and made my flesh creep on my bones.
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