“You are too good for me,” she said in a low voice. In after years, some pitying hand supplied the inscription, which ran thus— JACK SHEPPARD THE END. The fire—if there was any in him—never made headway against this insistant demand to know the significance of these manifold inward agitations. " "May I look at it, Sir!" said Austin, stepping towards him. ” She stood up and held her arms toward him. "Then you need no further information from me," rejoined Jackson, sternly. Give way, and let us render what assistance we can to the poor wretch. “Election be hanged!” he exclaimed.
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