[A] pedestrian tour of Europe could not be complete without them. Of course that decided me at once to see them, for I never allow myself to do things by halves, or in a slurring, slipshod way.
Then next is the Clinke, a gaol or prison for the trespassers in those parts; namely, in old time, for such as should brabble, frey, or break the peace on the said bank, or in the brothel houses, they were by the inhabitants thereabout apprehended and committed to this gaol, where they were straitly imprisoned.
Baked, they were tough; and even boiled, they warn’t things for a hungry man to hanker after.
Then it wasn't one lonesome critter; it was a woodsful, tearing each others' eyeballs out.
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