She leaned forward in her chair, as if petrified in fear by the scary story. Wood's bed-chamber—it was locked, with the key left in it. " "What!" she exclaimed, staring eagerly in his face. Satisfied, as he thought, that he had nothing to apprehend, the boy resumed his task, chanting, as he plied his knife with redoubled assiduity, the following—not inappropriate strains:— THE NEWGATE STONE. He is in the care of those who will not leave the task assigned to them—the utter perversion of his principles—half-finished.
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