He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. ‘Certainly I have them with me. "Ready!" answered Smith, shaking himself, and producing a similar pair of weapons. Spurling, formerly, it may be remembered, the hostess of the Dark House at Queenhithe,—whence wine, ale, and brandy of inferior quality were dispensed, in false measures, and at high prices, throughout the prison, which in noise and debauchery rivalled, if it did not surpass, the lowest tavern. "Aha! my lad!" he cried without appearing to regard the pain of the wound; "now I'll show you no quarter.
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