” The man smiled at him. Wood resounded from below. "At my first being acquainted with the place," says this writer, in the 'Miseries of a Prison,' "the prisoners, methought, walking up and down the Stone Hall, looked like so many wrecks upon the sea. She calls us her guests, but in reality we are her prisoners. But I suppose as I’ll have to wait until you can hear me to tell you again.
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