ToC On the night of Friday, the 26th of November, 1703, and at the hour of eleven, the door of a miserable habitation, situated in an obscure quarter of the Borough of Southwark, known as the Old Mint, was opened; and a man, with a lantern in his hand, appeared at the threshold. I secured the dog after he had wounded me. " When the doctor entered the bedroom and looked into the faces of the culprits, he laughed brokenly. Now, it was a wilderness of weeds. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living.
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