A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. “And by what right do you do anything of the sort?” “No right at all,” he admitted. Through one doorway she saw a grave Chinaman standing on a stage-like platform. Perhaps," she added, in a whisper, as she appropriated the beforenamed article, "he has a pocket-book. At length, however, by dealing blows right and left with their swords, and even inflicting severe cuts on the foremost of the rabble, the soldiers managed to gain a clear course, and to drive back the assailants; who, as they retreated behind the barricades, shouted in tones of defiance, "To Tyburn! to Tyburn!" The object of all this tumult, meanwhile, never altered his position, but sat back in the cart, as if resolved not to make even a struggle to regain his liberty.
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