~362~~Arrangement by bail was impossible: this was a proceeding on a
judgment; and with as little ceremony, and as much _sang froid_ as
he would have entered a theatre, poor Tom was placed inside a hackney
coach, accompanied by the aforesaid personage and his man, and drove off
in apparent good spirits for the King's Bench Prison, where Transit and
myself promised to attend him on the morrow, employing the mean time in
attempting to free him from durance vile. It was about twelve at noon of
the next day, when Transit and myself, accompanied by Tom's creditor
and his solicitor, traversed over Waterloo Bridge, and bent our steps
towards the abode of our incarcerated friend.
"The winds of March, with many a sudden gust,
About Saint George's Fields had raised the dust;
And stirr'd the massive bars that stand beneath
The spikes, that wags call _Justice Abbot's teeth_."
The first glimpse of the Obelisk convinced us we had entered the
confines of _Abbot's Park_, as the rules are generally termed, for
here Bob recognised two or three among the sauntering rangers, whose
habiliments bore evidence of their once fashionable notoriety;
"And still they seem'd, though shorn of many a ray,
Not less than some arch dandy in decay.
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