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FOOTNOTES: [A] At the hospital of Saint Giles for Lazars, the prisoners conveyed from the City of London towards Tyburn, there to be executed for treasons, felonies, or other trespasses, were presented with a Bowl of Ale, thereof to drink, as their last refreshing in this life. Looking sullen, he released the handle and sat back. The act was mechanical, a bit of sparring for time: his anger was searching about for a new vent. As Austin rose to execute his principal's commands, and usher the women to the gate, Mrs. Thames took it, and beheld the portrait of a young man, apparently—judging from his attire—of high rank, whose proud and patrician features certainly presented a very striking resemblance to his own. Imagine her, putting herself to all this delay and inconvenience for a young wastrel she did not know and who, the moment he got on his feet, would doubtless pass out of her life without so much as Thank you! And it was ten to one that she would not comprehend the ingratitude. And to wish not is useless, because you have told me from when I was a little girl. We dressed it in a little music.
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