JACK SHEPPARD. " "Wood's daughter, I suppose?" observed the other. Nor my grandfathers both. The gentleman catched him i' th' fact, and we shut him up for safety i' that pris'n. \" He panted, wiping sweat off of his brow with a towel. He’s a catch, Lucy. Her lover, Darrell, has embarked upon the Thames, where, if he's not capsized by the squall, (for it's blowing like the devil,) he stands a good chance of getting his throat cut by his pursuers—ha! ha! I tracked 'em to the banks of the river, and should have followed to see it out, if the watermen hadn't refused to take me.
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