When I have traversed the streets a houseless wanderer, driven with curses from every door where I have solicited alms, and with blows from every gateway where I have sought shelter,—when I have crept into some deserted building, and stretched my wearied limbs upon a bulk, in the vain hope of repose,—or, worse than all, when, frenzied with want, I have yielded to horrible temptation, and earned a meal in the only way I could earn one,—when I have felt, at times like these, my heart sink within me, I have drank of this drink, and have at once forgotten my cares, my poverty, my guilt. He's a Welshman, and I wouldn't for a trifle that any accident befel him. But what's to be done?" "The first thing I do," replied Jack, "will be to visit my poor mother in Bedlam. He will be hanged—hanged—hanged. "But are you really there?" "No, I'm here," answered Jack, leaping down. ‘And it is not only a question of her identity, but a matter of her life as well. Life! Life and love! It makes me want to be always young, always strong, always devoting my life—and dying splendidly. Ramage controlled his expression and thought very quickly. Having now fairly got out of Newgate for the second time, with a heart throbbing with exultation, he hastened to make good his escape.
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