Full twenty highwaymen blithe and bold, Rattled their chains in that dungeon old; Of all that number there 'scaped not one Who carved his name on the Newgate Stone. . She allowed herself to be ejected, therefore, and retired to the parlour after cleansing the blood from her hands and her own slight wound in the kitchen. "It is with no small concern," writes an anonymous historian of Newgate, "that I am obliged to observe that the women in every ward of this prison are exceedingly worse than the worst of the men not only in respect to their mode of living, but more especially as to their conversation, which, to their great shame, is as profane and wicked as hell itself can possibly be. . Taber is the name. My death, probably. I shall quit this roof to-morrow. And nothing to tell her where to begin.
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