" With your foodle doo! "Thames Darrell has my heart alone, A noble youth, e'en you must own; And, if from him my love could stir, Jack Sheppard I should much prefer!" With his foodle doo! "Do you refuse my toast?" cried Jack, impatiently. The deafening report froze time. Seems as she don’t trust soldiers easy. Suddenly he stopped short. 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. "A thousand pounds," he observed, gloomily, "is a heavy price to pay for doubtful secrecy, when certain silence might be so cheaply procured.
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