ks with him to a chandler's hard by, that they might ratify the
bargain with a dram. Unhappily, a boy from the 'Rose and Crown' sounded
the alarm; for coming into the chandler's for the empty ale-pots, he
instantly recognised the incomparable gaol-thief, and lost no time in
acquainting his master. Now, Mr. Bradford, of the 'Rose and Crown,' was
a head-borough, who, with the zeal of a triumphant Dogberry, summoned
the watch, and in less than half an hour Jack Sheppard was screaming
blasphemies in a hackney-cab on his way home to Newgate.

The Stone-Jug received him with deference and admiration. Three hundred
pounds weight of irons were put upon him for an adornment, and the
Governor professed so keen a solicitude for his welfare that he never
left him unattended. There was scarce a beautiful woman in London who
did not solace him with her condescension, and enrich him with her
gifts. Not only did the President of the Royal Academy deign to paint
his portrait, but (a far greater honour) Hogarth made him immortal.
Even the King displayed a proper interest, demanding a full and precise
account of his escapes. The hero himself was drunk with flattery;
he bubbled with ribaldry; he touched off the most valiant of his
contemporaries in a ludicrous phrase. But his chief delight was to
illustrate his prowess to his distinguished visitors, and nothing
pleased him better than to slip in and out of his chains.

Confronted with his judge, he forthwith proposed to rid himself of his
handcuffs, and he preserved until the fatal tree an illimitable pride in
his artistry. Nor would he believe in the possibility of death. To the
very last he was confirmed in the hope of pardon; but, pardon failing
him, his single consolation was that his procession from Westminster
to Newgate was the largest that London had ever known, and that in
the crowd a constable broke his leg. Even in the Condemned Hole he was
unreconciled. If he had broken the Castle, why should he not also evade
the gallows? Wherefore he resolved to carry a knife to Tyburn that he
might cut the rope, and so, losing himself in the crowd, ensure escape.
But the knife was discovered by his warder's vigilance, and taken
from him after a desperate struggle. At the scaffold he behaved with
admirable gravity: confessing the wickeder of his robberies, and asking
pardon for his enormous crimes. 'Of two virtues,' he boasted at the
self-same moment that the cart left him dancing without t