"It is Jack Sheppard, the noted housebreaker," cried Jonathan, at the top of his sonorous voice. The room in which he was detained—that lately occupied by the Mohocks, who, it appeared, had been allowed to depart,—was calculated to inspire additional apprehension and disgust. He poured a pinch of tobacco into his palm and sniffed. “He will probably make a statement to-night. Now Owen Wood had one fair child, Unlike her mother, meek and mild; Her love the draper strove to gain, But she repaid him with disdain. He closed the door. You need have no apprehensions about him, Sir Rowland. She cried for hours but would not scream as her mother was packed into a marble coffin. She blew on the hand cannon and grabbed her bag of gunpowder. We have played at a little mild lovemaking again. But ere the words could find utterance, her maternal tenderness overcame her indignation; and, sinking upon her knees, she extended her arms over her child. Jack was so harrassed that he felt half inclined to stand at bay.
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