Her lover, Darrell, has embarked upon the Thames, where, if he's not capsized by the squall, (for it's blowing like the devil,) he stands a good chance of getting his throat cut by his pursuers—ha! ha! I tracked 'em to the banks of the river, and should have followed to see it out, if the watermen hadn't refused to take me. Unless he can arise from the bottom of the Thames, where he and his abhorred father lie buried, you will never behold him again in this world. "Are you not that man's mistress?" demanded Mrs. A. “I lied, as I would have committed a murder, or done any evil deed sooner than lose you.
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