The baby boy was delivered in a sea of black blood, born dead and blue, and strangled by plague. "If Jack would come to my house, I'd contrive to hide him," remarked a buxom dame. “It was perhaps my fault. Ireton," observed the chief turnkey of Westminster Gatehouse, as he helped himself to his third glass of punch; "but I never saw one like Jack Sheppard. ” There was never any shortage of bad men to eat, especially with pestilence and superstition to cover their tracks. It will be necessary to secure his companion; and as you say he is not in the house, some caution must be used in approaching him, or he may chance to take to his heels, for he's a slippery little rascal. ” “But how?” “I poured him out some port wine, and I said—let me see—oh, ‘You are going to be a grandfather!’” “Yes.
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