Last night there had been no time. It was a sort of cooking-room, with an immense fire-place flanked by a couple of cauldrons, and was called Jack Ketch's Kitchen, because the quarters of persons executed for treason were there boiled by the hangman in oil, pitch, and tar, before they were affixed on the city gates, or on London Bridge. This unexpected interpolation might spoil the efficacy of all that had gone before. There was no answer.
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This video was uploaded to ineel.net on 10-05-2024 07:41:39
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