was one of those high-backed chairs, seem frequently in old houses, and
old pictures. A clock stood in one corner, and in the opposite nook were
a flight of narrow stairs, which led downwards, probably to a cellar. On
a row of shelves, were various bottles of the different liquors generally
in request among the "flash" gentry, together with an old-fashioned
fiddle, two bridles, and some strange looking tools, probably of more use
to true boys than honest men.

Brimstone Bess was a woman about the middle size, but with bones and
sinews which would not have disgraced a prize-fighter; a cap, that might
have been cleaner, was rather thrown than put on the back of her head,
developing, to full advantage, the few scanty locks of grizzled ebon
which adorned her countenance. Her eyes large, black, and prominent,
sparkled with a fire half vivacious, half vixen. The nasal feature was
broad and fungous, and, as well as the whole of her capacious
physiognomy, blushed with the deepest scarlet: it was evident to see that
many a full bottle of "British compounds" had contributed to the feeding
of that burning and phosphoric illumination, which was, indeed, "the
outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace."

The expression of the countenance was not wholly bad. Amidst the deep
traces of searing vice and unrestrained passion; amidst all that was
bold, and unfeminine, and fierce, and crafty, there was a latent look of
coarse good humour, a twinkle of the eye that bespoke a tendency to mirth
and drollery, and an upward curve of the lip that shewed, however the
human creature might be debased, it still cherished its grand
characteristic--the propensity to laughter.

The garb of this dame Leonarda was by no means of that humble nature
which one might have supposed. A gown of crimson silk, flounced and