When gallant TOM SHEPPARD to Tyburn was led,— "Stop the cart at the Crown—stop a moment," he said. The practice has been common for thousands of years. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. "Mercy on us! what have I said!" cried the attendant, greatly alarmed by the agitation of her mistress; "do sit down, your ladyship, while I run for the ratifia and rosa solis. It was not in evidence here, not a sign of it. She mentally reprimanded herself to alter her own visage so as not to appear depraved.
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