"I call this ere crib the Little-Ease, arter the runaway prentices' cells in Guildhall. “How has the world taken it?” he asked. Casting a hasty glance at the old and ruinous prison belonging to the liberty of the Bishop of Winchester (whose palace formerly adjoined the river), called the Clink, which gave its name to the street, along which he walked: and noticing, with some uneasiness, the melancholy manner in which the wind whistled through its barred casements, the carpenter followed his companion down an opening to the right, and presently arrived at the water-side. You need not be afraid. "Close the wicket, Austin," vociferated Ireton, in an authoritative tone. Wood, in his Sunday habiliments and Sunday buckle.
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