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. But I liked to say it. Ed. A home MAY be a sort of cage, but still—it’s a home. . "Curse me, if I don't think all the world means to cross the Thames this fine night," observed Ben. I cannot turn into a bat. " "Doubt me not," replied Thames. Imbecile.
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