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. Taken altogether, his physiognomy resembled one of those vagabond heads which Murillo delighted to paint, and for which Guzman d'Alfarache, Lazarillo de Tormes, or Estevanillo Gonzalez might have sat:—faces that almost make one in love with roguery, they seem so full of vivacity and enjoyment. He would read the jokes and illustrate them; and after a time I could see the point of a joke without having it explained to me. In Wych Street Owen Wood did dwell; A carpenter he was by trade, And money, I believe, he made.
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