Below the window he saw two coolies carrying a coffin, which presently they callously dumped into a yawning pit. Traversing Angel Court, and Green Arbour Court,—celebrated as one of Goldsmith's retreats,—he speedily reached Seacoal Lane, and pursuing the same course, which he and Thames had formerly taken, arrived at the yard at the back of Jonathan's habitation. Brutes! They are the brute still with us! Science some day may teach us a way to do without them. His conscience, however, was entirely another affair.
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