By many devious ways, reeking with offence of many kinds, they come to the little tunnel of a court, and to the gas-lamp (lighted now), and to the iron gate.
"He was put there," says Jo, holding to the bars and looking in.
"Where?
Oh, what a scene of horror!" "There!" says Jo, pointing.

"Over yinder.

Among them piles of bones, and close to that there kitchin winder! They put him wery nigh the top.

They was obliged to stamp upon it to git it in.

I could unkiver it for you with my broom if the gate was open.