The Mysteries of London; or, Revelations of the British Metropolis — page 318: what you’re looking at

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

316 MYSTERIES The water burns me! said he, whispering, How this river Thames boils—its source must be in Hell! The moon of London is red—there is fre all around me! This man will save himself, muttered Moore, with a sort of medical disappointment. Fevers are a strange and lunatic diséase. When we com- bat them, they resist our endeavours; when we — | ) Oh! if I were only on the beautiful waters of — . leave them to themselves, they naturully extin- guish themselves, Evidently, this savage has got beyond the mortai crisis, To morrow he will recover from it. the Solway, the marauder should not escape, re- — plied Angus; but the Thames is as\ hot and as heavy as molten lead. Ah! ah! there they both disappear—both of them. He then buried his head im-his pillow. Moore again felt his pulse, and continued doing 80 for nearly &@ minute. Angus raised himself on the bed, and looked at. the doctor with his hollow and glaring eyes, in a manner frightful to behold. But Moore was a physician ; and this savage look did not disturb him. _ My horse ! my horse! imperiously ejaculated — the laird, who placed both his feet upon the car- pet. Moore let him do as he would. Angus rolled his eyes, asif he were searching in his brain for some idea that had escaped him. The voice of my dream cannot speak falsel9y paid he, slowly; and the law of God is blood co pacod: whatever priests may say to. Jeu