During this dreadful pause the wretched man felt for his sword. His next occupation was to take out his pistols, examine the priming, and rub the flints. When gallant TOM SHEPPARD to Tyburn was led,— "Stop the cart at the Crown—stop a moment," he said. God bless you, Auntie! I'll go into the mills and make pulp with my bare hands, if you want me to.
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