g of excellent ale.

"I'm afraid, Jack, you'll come to the gallows," observed the smith;
"buth if you do, I'll go to Tyburn to see you. But I'll never part with
your irons."

Noticing the draggled condition Jack was in, he then fetched him a
bucket of water, with which Jack cleansed himself as well as he could,
and thanking the honest smith, who would take nothing for his trouble,
left the shop.

Having made a tolerably good meal upon the loaf, overcome by fatigue,
Jack turned into a barn in Stoke Newington, and slept till late in the
day, when he awakened much refreshed. The swelling in his limbs had also
subsided. It rained heavily all day, so he did not stir forth.

Towards night, however, he ventured out, and walked on towards London.
When he arrived at Hoxton, he found the walls covered with placards
offering a reward for his apprehension, and he everywhere appeared to be
the general subject of conversation. Prom a knot of idlers at a
public-house, he learnt that Jonathan Wild had just ridden past, and
that his setters were scouring the country in every direction.

Entering London, he bent his way towards the west-end; and having some
knowledge of a secondhand tailor's shop in Rupert Street, proceeded
thither, and looked out a handsome suit of mourning, with a sword,
cloak, and hat, and demanded the price. The man asked twelve guineas,
but after a little bargaining, he came down to ten.

Taking his new purchase under his arm, Jack proceeded to a small tavern
in the same street, where, having ordered dinner, he went to a bed-room
to attire himself. He had scarcely completed his toilet, when he was
startled by a noise at the door, and heard his own name pronounced in no
friendly accents. Fortunately, the window was not far from the ground;
so opening it gently, he dropped into a backyard, and from thence got
into the street.

Hurrying down the Haymarket, he was arrested by a crowd who were
collected round a street-singer. Jack paused for a moment, and found
that his own adventures formed the subject of the ballad. Not daring,
however, to listen to it, he ran on.

CHAPTER XXVI.

How Jack Sheppard attended his Mother's Funeral.

That night Jack walked to Paddington, and took up his quarters at a
small tavern, called the Wheat-sheaf, near the green. On the next
morning--Sunday--the day on which he expected his mother's funeral to
take place, he set out along the Harrow Road.

It was a clear, lovely