" The Gate, which crossed Newgate Street, had a wide arch for carriages, and a postern, on the north side, for footpassengers. —I'll give him the edication of a prig,—teach him the use of his forks betimes,—and make him, in the end, as clever a cracksman as his father. "It's an ill wind that blows nobody good," thought the carpenter, turning his attention to the child, whose feeble struggles and cries proclaimed that, as yet, life had not been extinguished by the hardships it had undergone. But it’s as you say.
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