Some years ago, in 1715, just before the Rebellion, I was rash enough to league myself with the Jacobite party, and by Wild's machinations got clapped into Newgate, whence I was glad to escape with my head upon my shoulders. Turning off again on the left, down Seacoal Lane, they arrived at the mouth of a dark, narrow alley, into which they plunged; and, at the farther extremity found a small yard, overlooked by the blank walls of a large gloomy habitation. Manning regarded her thoughtfully for a moment and stroked his mustache. She possessed it, astonishing fact! She had summoned this energy so continuously during the past four weeks that now it was abiding; she knew that it would always be with her, on guard. Nothing material occurred to Newgate, until the memorable year 1666, when it was utterly destroyed by the Great Fire. I forget the particulars, but I know it was something very disagreeable. Hope reared.
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