At a sign from Ah Cum, official custodian of the sightseers, the polechair coolies pressed toward the left and halted. 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. Surely it was a dream. The preparations to meet him were immense, roses were planted everywhere, white and drooping with honeyed fragrance. "Stop!" exclaimed Jack, planting himself before the door; "do you want to get me sent across the water?" "I want to save you from disgrace and ruin," returned Thames. “I believe,” he said, “that you mean me to be Prime Minister.
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