Were I not Jonathan Wild, I'd be Jack Sheppard. I must have been very wound up. " "Ay; but I do mind her," cried Jack upon whom his comrade's observation had produced the desired effect. “I hate you because you are the Devil! Rot in Hell!” She was shocked at her own accusation, how she had savored the words. Young and old were dressed in their gayest apparel; and it was evident from the smiles that lighted up every countenance, from the roguish looks of the younger swains, and the demure expression of several pretty rustic maidens, that a ceremony, which never fails to interest all classes,—a wedding,—was about to take place. “I haven’t seen the new Patience, dear,” she said.
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