The Mysteries of London; or, Revelations of the British Metropolis — page 162: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

160 _ MYSTERIES feel any excess of gratitude for these unwonted exertions. | Bob every now and then left his work, in which he was assisted by three or four vagabonds, whose hang dog faces showed they were destined to the — gallows, and went and seated himself by Mike. Any one wko had cbserved Bob’s face, while | he was talking in a sort of half whisper to Mike, | would have been seized with terror and disgust. | The perspiration was streaming down from his | Jow forehead, his eyes twinkled craftily from un- der his shaggy eyebrows. A spasmodic convulsion agitated the muscles of his face, and the corners |} of bis mouth, although he constantly kept wiping them, and as constantly covered with foam. His” whole countenance expressed with hideous energy the instinct of savage cruelty—of cowardly but | still terrible ferocity. The good-natured mask in which he sometimes arrayed his features was now cast aside, and his face appeared in all its naked’ hideousness, showing that every evil passion that can vitiate the heart of man, had left its stigma | on it. He had been there nearly two hours, endeavour- | ing to stir up the sluggish blood of Mike; trying ’ to instil into him the spirit of rage and discord ; | preaching to him; railing at him and entreating, } turn by turn. For two bours a furious hatred had been boiling within him against Tom Turn- | bull, and he did not dare attack him face to face ; he was afraid of Tom. Who does not know how | powerfully fear embitters hatred ? ‘ Snail returned to the public-house, but he hadj f resumed his usual clothes, having his gentleman’s