at a fool I am to be sure! I ought to have
cut John, not Jack. However, it don't signify. Nobody ever called me
John, that I recollect. So I dare say I was christened Jack. Deuce take
it! I was very near spelling my name with one P.

Within that dungeon lay Captain Bew,
Rumbold and Whitney--a jolly crew!
All carved their names on the stone, and all
Share the fate of the brave Du Val!
_With their chisels so fine, tra la_!

"Save us!" continued the apprentice, "I hope this beam doesn't resemble
the Newgate stone; or I may chance, like the great men the song speaks
of, to swing on the Tyburn tree for my pains. No fear o' that.--Though
if my name should become as famous as theirs, it wouldn't much matter.
The prospect of the gallows would never deter me from taking to the
road, if I were so inclined.

Full twenty highwaymen blithe and bold,
Rattled their chains in that dungeon old;
Of all that number there 'scaped not one
Who carved his name on the Newgate Stone.
_With his chisel so fine, tra la_!

"There!" cried the boy, leaping from the stool, and drawing back a few
paces on the bench to examine his performance,--"that'll do. Claude du
Val himself couldn't have carved it better--ha! ha!"

The name inscribed upon the beam (of which, as it has been carefully
preserved by the subsequent owners of Mr. Wood's habitation in Wych
Street, we are luckily enabled to furnish a facsimile) was

[Illustration: Jack Sheppard (signature)]

"I've half a mind to give old Wood the slip, and turn highwayman," cried
Jack, as he closed the knife, and put it in his pocket.

"The devil you have!" thundered a voice from behind, that filled the
apprentice with dismay. "Come down, sirrah, and I'll teach you how to
deface my walls in future. Come down, I say, instantly, or I'll make
you." Upon which, Mr. Wood caught hold of Jack's leg, and dragged him
off the bench.

"And so you'll turn highwayman, will you, you young dog?" continued the
carpenter, cuffing him soundly,--"rob the mails, like Jack Hall, I
suppose."

"Yes, I will," replied Jack sullenly, "if you beat me in that way."

Amazed at the boy's assurance, Wood left off boxing his ears for a
moment, and, looking at him steadfastly, said in a grave tone, "Jack,
Jack, you'll come to be hanged!"

"Better be hanged than hen-pecked," retorted the lad with a malicious
grin.

"What do you mean by that, sirrah?" cried Wood, reddening w