Old farmhouses loomed as they whizzed by, left behind in the gray like mourners. The word of a Chinaman; he had given it, so he must abide. Casting a hasty glance at the old and ruinous prison belonging to the liberty of the Bishop of Winchester (whose palace formerly adjoined the river), called the Clink, which gave its name to the street, along which he walked: and noticing, with some uneasiness, the melancholy manner in which the wind whistled through its barred casements, the carpenter followed his companion down an opening to the right, and presently arrived at the water-side. “Perhaps your engagements are made for you.
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