’ The woman shrugged helpless shoulders, looking to her husband. Wood's habitation in Wych Street, we are luckily enabled to furnish a facsimile) was Jack Sheppard (signature) "I've half a mind to give old Wood the slip, and turn highwayman," cried Jack, as he closed the knife, and put it in his pocket. Her parents totally look the other way. It would be swindling. " "Wood's daughter, I suppose?" observed the other. . Passing at a glance over the whole of the intervening period; leaving in the words of the poet, —The growth untried Of that wide gap— we shall resume our narrative at the beginning of June, 1715. Enjoy.
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