Urging his steed along Oxford Road,— as that great approach to the metropolis was then termed,—he soon passed Marylebone Lane, beyond which, with the exception of a few scattered houses, the country was completely open on the right, and laid out in pleasant fields and gardens; nor did he draw in the rein until he arrived at Tyburn-gate, where, before he turned off upon the Edgeware Road, he halted for a moment, to glance at the place of execution. “My heart, my dove, I only want to heal you. He could not possibly lunge in the confined space, and so had nothing to do but back himself into the chapel as fast as he could. The soi-disant Valade escapes and takes my proof, which I have broken on his head.
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