It was a dull, foggy day, and the atmosphere was so thick and heavy, that, at eight o'clock, the curious who arrived near the prison could scarcely discern the tower of St. Fetter Lane, on the left, Gray's Inn, on the right, added their supplies. Oh! that I should live to be father-in-law to a peer of France! What would my poor wife say to it, if she could come to life again? Oh, Thames!—my lord marquis, I mean—you have made me the happiest—the proudest of mankind. I suppose I ought to have been a man. I do forgive him; but he will never know now. Your life is like a funeral March. ” He declared.
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