Byrom,—a poet of whom his native town, Manchester, may be justly proud; and his features and figure have been preserved by the most illustrious of his companions on the present occasion,—Hogarth,—in the levée in the "Rake's Progress," and in "Southwark Fair. " "And were I in yours," rejoined the woollen-draper, "I should be doubly apprehensive, because he's a professed friend. Also, you must send someone to fetch my horse—at least, it is not mine but I have borrowed it to come here—because it will be dark very soon and—’ ‘Woof! Hold it, hold it,’ begged the sergeant. Your name. ” She had no way of retaliating, so she made a decision. “Anna,” he pleaded, “be merciful.
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