If you knew anything about Canton ware, you were, as like as not, sorely tempted to stuff a teacup into your pocket. " "Give them to me," replied Jack. It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a partition right across it. In this way he crossed one or two public gardens and a bowling-green,—the neighbourhood of Clerkenwell then abounded in such places of amusement,—passed the noted Ducking Pond, where Black Mary had been frequently immersed; and, striking off to the left across the fields, arrived in a few minutes at his destination.
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