Taking his way along East Smithfield, mounting Little Tower-hill, and threading the Minories and Hounsditch, he arrived without accident or molestation, at Moorfields. Gay, by his strokes of pleasantry, whether in his writings or conversation, never lost a friend. Two shots were fired at him by Jonathan; one of which passed through his hat, and the other through the fleshy part of his arm; but he made good his retreat. ‘Go on, Gerald. I cannot live without you, Anna. ” “Until some one takes pity on me and marries me?” He raised his eyebrows in mild appeal. " "In whose favour is it made?" he inquired, sternly.
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