Your speaking of the trial brings the whole scene to my mind. Turning quickly round, in the hope of discovering the thief, he was no less surprised than distressed—for in spite of his faults, the woollen-draper was a good-natured fellow—to perceive Jack Sheppard in custody. "Defend yourself!" cried Jack, drawing his sword. He fancied that the whole fabric of the bridge was cracking over head,—that the arch was tumbling upon him,—that the torrent was swelling around him, whirling him off, and about to bury him in the deafening abyss. He was six blocks away from his home, a ten story building apparently made solely of glass. . Hastening to the spot where he had tied his horse to a tree, he vaulted into the saddle, and rode off across the fields,—for he was fearful of encountering the hostile party,—till he reached the Edgeware Road. “Listen! There was a Meysey Hill in Paris, an American railway millionaire. She was not very clear about the position and duties of a chorus-girl, but it certainly had the air of being a last desperate resort.
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