The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 276: what you’re looking at

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

THE ARCHAOLOGIST 249 mummyism, which through the agency of that same excel- lent Mr. Bealby had now fallen into his hands. Enraptured with the thought, Mr. Fossilton opened the glass case, and was in the act of stretching forward his hand to touch the countenance of the supposed mummy, when the Burker suddenly opened his eyes and raised himself to a sitting posture. It was not exactly terror which seized upon Mr. Fossilton; it was a general stupefaction, a paralysis of the senses, which, without absolutely depriving him of his consciousness made him sink down upon a seat and gaze through his green spectacles, as well as open-mouthed, upon this ex- traordinary proceeding. “Don’t be afeard, old genelman; I ain’t agoing to eat you,” said the Burker, as he now endeavoured to rise up completely from the interior of the case; but the task was a difficult one, his limbs being horribly cramped. ‘“ Well, I’m blowed if this here ain’t pleasant, cuss it! ”’ Mr. Fossilton groaned, but did not move one hair’s breadth more than if he had been a veritable statue, or one of his own petrifactions placed in that chair. “Well, I’m sniggered if this ain’t a pretty job!’ con- tinued the Burker, growling savagely; ‘“‘ to get one’s legs as palsied as if they was frozen, blow me, it beats the gallows, beats it hollow! ”’ Here Mr. Fossilton, abruptly seized with the terrifying effect of a complete and utter revulsion of feelings, sprang from his seat and darted toward the door. The sense of sudden and frightful danger to which he thus became exposed acted like galvanism upon the Burker, and rush- ing after the archeologist, he grasped him violently by the arm. “Hold your tongue! Don’t cry out, don’t say a single word!’ growled the Burker, “ or by jingo I'll do for you! I’ll cook your goose in a jiffy! ”’ Thus speaking, he at the same instant snatched up an old rusty sword which lay upon a shelf close at hand, and which was supposed to have been the one wielded by Edward the First at the Battle of Falkirk,— or at least, such was the assurance given some time ago by Mr. Bealby when he sold the curious weapon to its present owner. ‘“ What would you do, unhappy man?” asked Fossilton, ” CORnNICLOOOKS (CO)