"Here we part,—perhaps for ever. How Jack Sheppard attended his Mother's Funeral. There's nothing so sad in this world as an old fool," she added. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. "You'd better surrender quietly, Jack," he cried; "you've no chance. "Good-b'ye, Jack," said Figg, putting on his hat. It has been already intimated that Jack had an excessive passion for finery; and it might have been added, that the chief part of his ill-gotten gains was devoted to the embellishment of his person.
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