l outcry, as of a
terrified child. Dymock and Shanty looked at each other, and Shanty
said, "It is the beggar woman. She is still skulking about, I will be
bound; hark!" he added, "listen! she will be stilling the child, she's
got under the cart." But the child continued to screech, and there was
neither threat nor blandishment used to still the cries.

Dymock seemed to be so thoroughly astounded, that he could not stir, but
Shanty going in, presently returned with a lighted lanthorn, and an iron
crow-bar in his hand; "and now," he said, "Mr. Dymock, we shall see to
this noise," and they both turned into the out-building, expecting to
have to encounter the tall beggar, and with her perhaps, a gang of
vagrants. They, however, saw only the infant of two years' old, who had
lain like a thing dead on the woman's lap, though not dead, as Shanty
had feared, but stupified with hollands, the very breath of the baby
smelling of the spirit when Dymock lifted it out of the cart and brought
it into the interior shed. Shanty did not return, till he had
investigated every hole and corner of his domain, with the crow-bar in
one hand, and the lanthorn in the other.

The baby had ceased to cry, when brought into the shed, and feeling
itself in the arms of a fellow-creature, had yielded to the influence of
the liquor, and had fallen again into a dead sleep, dropping back on the
bosom of Mr. Dymock.

"They are all off," said Shanty, as he entered the house, "and have left
us this present. We have had need, as that young rogue said, of the
horse-shoe over our door. We have been over-reached for once; that
little one is stolen goods, be sure, Mr. Dymock,--some great man's
child for aught we know,--the wicked woman will not call again very
soon, as she promised, and what are we to do with the child? Had my poor
wife been living, it might have done, but she is better off! What can I
do with it?"

"I must take it up to the Tower," said Mr. Dymock, "and see if my aunt
Margaret will take to it, and if she will not, why, then there are
charity schools, and poor-houses to be had recourse to; yet I don't fear
her kind heart."

"Nor I neither, Mr. Dymock," said Shanty, and the old man drew near to
the child, and holding up his lanthorn to the sleeping baby, he said,
"What like is it? Gipsy, or Jew? one or the other; those features, if
they were washed, might not disgrace Sarah or Rachel."

"The mouth and the form of the face are Grecian," sai