For a time he would be the grim Protestant Flagellant, pursuing the idea of self-castigation. Light the lantern. On regaining his breath, he began to consider whither chance had led him; and, rubbing his eyes to clear his sight, he perceived a sombre pile, with a lofty tower and broad roof, immediately in front of him. "I can do without it," muttered Jack. Then there was Tom Jarrot, the hackney-coachman, who was pitched off the box against yonder curbstone, and broke his leg. Anyhow, that is how things are. In this state Mrs.
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