ToC Jack Sheppard, after whistling to Blueskin, hurried down a short thoroughfare leading from Wych Street to the back of Saint Clement's Church, where he found Thames Darrell, who advanced to meet him. The calvacade was now put slowly in motion. Neither combatant could use his sword; and in strength the fugitive was evidently superior to his antagonist. “Life is upsetting enough, without the novels taking a share,” said Mr. Near to these hopeful youths sat a fence, or receiver, bargaining with a clouter, or pickpocket, for a suit,—or, to speak in more intelligible language, a watch and seals, two cloaks, commonly called watch-cases, and a wedge-lobb, otherwise known as a silver snuff-box. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. Such was the condition of his mind that the danger exhilarated rather than depressed him. The Higher Life and the Lower. The bliss had lasted one hundred and forty years, far more than an entire mortal lifetime.
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