Sheppard, and neither deserve nor desire your thanks. At this terrible juncture, Jack maintained his composure,—a smile played upon his face before the cap was drawn over it,—and the last words he uttered were, "My poor mother! I shall soon join her!" The rope was then adjusted, and the cart began to move. She had not seen him in two and a half centuries. Hearing the noise of the scuffle, the tapstress, fancying it was Jack making an effort to escape, in spite of the remonstrances of the executioner, threw open the wicket. He rose at once to his feet and turned a white face upon her. The oranges were of the Syrian variety, small but filled with scarlet honey.
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