I'm entirely at your service. You must know, Sir, when he was a lad, the day after he broke into his master's house in Wych Street, he picked a gentleman's pocket in our church, during sarvice time,—that he did, the heathen. He held down the light, and a moment afterwards beckoned, with a blanched cheek, to Rowland. The poor widow was thrown into an agony of distress on learning that a robbery had been committed, in which her son (for she could not doubt that Jack was one of the boys,) was implicated; nor was her anxiety alleviated by Mrs. “Either I want to shout,” said Mr. Sorry to be so nosy. His legs were dreadfully swelled; his hands bruised; and his fetters occasioned him intolerable pain.
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