"Jack Sheppard's fingers are lime-twigs. "To be sure, it's not surprising the poor little thing should be so marked; for, when I lay in the women-felons' ward in Newgate, where he first saw the light, or at least such light as ever finds entrance into that gloomy place, I had nothing, whether sleeping or waking, but halters, and gibbets, and coffins, and such like horrible visions, for ever dancing round me! And then, you know, Sir—but, perhaps, you don't know that little Jack was born, a month before his time, on the very day his poor father suffered. “Second class,” said some one, but first and second were all alike to her. He was not Meysey Hill, but an Englishman of business, and he had only a small income. But I will not be engaged as ‘Alcide’ or advertised under that name. They are the only happy women in the Orient. The tears were streaming down her face, her voice was thick with sobs.
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