“There wasn’t. Battle, murder, and sudden death—and an old chap like McClintock tuning his piano in the midst of it. To prevent the recurrence of any such escape as that just described, it was deemed expedient, in more recent times, to keep a watchman at the top of Newgate. Wood, in deploring his wild career, adverted to the melancholy condition to which it had reduced his mother. There was a pleasant numbness in the bottle; that's why I went to it.
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