ToC On the night of Friday, the 26th of November, 1703, and at the hour of eleven, the door of a miserable habitation, situated in an obscure quarter of the Borough of Southwark, known as the Old Mint, was opened; and a man, with a lantern in his hand, appeared at the threshold. “I want my life to be beaten gold just in order to make it a fitting setting for yours. Who but you would have dreamed of giving the boy such a name? Why, it's the name of a river, not a Christian. "What do you think of your nephew, Sir Rowland?" whispered Jonathan, who sat with his back towards Thames, so that his features were concealed from the youth's view. Wary they might be. ” “Yes, I believe that was the name. "Your answer!" cried Sheppard.
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