The Mysteries of London; or, Revelations of the British Metropolis — page 339: what you’re looking at

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

OF LONDON. Boys Do you make a trade of selling dead bodies? exclaimed he. Do you wish te buy one ? said the Irishman, in a half whisper, instead of answering the ques- tion. Stephen thought immediately of the two dear sisters, A young girl? muttered he, between his teeth, ‘which were “convulsively sot. Tine Irishman mournfully shook his bushy head. Oh, your honour, exclaimed he, I am not an assassin, like Mr. Bishop—and when [I say that Mr. Bishop is an assassin, 1 may perhaps be mis- taken. 1 know that we ought never to speak ill of rich people; but as to myself, your honour, you have only to look at me to see at once that I have not the strength te burke a child. Stephen more closely examined the poor fellow, and felt compassion for his evident distress What, then, is it that you propose to me ? A body which, in its time, was not a badly formed one, your honour—rather lean, but very healthy; forty years old; five feet eight inches high, In an hcurit can be yours—if you would. wait a week for it, twould be more convenient to me, but do not inconvenience yourself. But where will you get it, then ? said Stephen, eves much amazed. sii Oh, don’t trouble yourself about that—that’s | my business, | He is not dead, then? Not quite, aid the Irishman, smiling sorrow- | comichbookscom