In the middle of the little town stood the shop of a Jew dealer in old clothes. "That's an incorrigible rascal," he added, as Sheppard closed the door; "it's only to-day that I discovered—" "What?" asked Jackson, pricking up his ears. "And so we're to be summoned from our beds and snug firesides, because a kid happens to squall, eh? By the soul of my grandmother, but this is too good!" "Do you intend to claim the privileges of the Mint?" said Jonathan, calmly pursuing his interrogations amid the uproar. Her voice was weak and flat. "You are complimentary, Sir Rowland," returned the other, with a grim smile. The clanking of chains, the grating of locks, and the rumbling of bolts must have been music in Jonathan's ears, so much pains did he take to subject himself to such sounds. " "Oh! name it. He came as an agreeable diversion from an insoluble perplexity. Kneebone, who began to feel sleepy, wound it up, and snuffed the candles. "Stop him!" shouted Jonathan from the stair-head, "stop him! It's Jack Sheppard!" "Give way!" cried Jack fiercely. “There ought to be a Censorship of Books.
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