How Jack Sheppard attended his Mother's Funeral 435 XXVII. I believe that I have heard my sister speak of you. Before retracing his steps, however, he allowed his gaze to range over the vast and beautiful prospect spread out beneath him, which is now hidden, from the traveller's view by the high walls of the General Cemetery, and can, consequently, only be commanded from the interior of that attractive place of burial,—and which, before it was intersected by canals and railroads, and portioned out into hippodromes, was exquisite indeed. "Somebody ought to get hold of that young man," said Prudence, grimly, as she nodded in Spurlock's direction. Things you would laugh at. It would send business elsewhere; and the hotel business in Canton was never so prosperous that one could afford to lose a single guest. Nothing like the direct approach, she thought. It cuts. I—well, I lost my temper. Some rustic hand had written upon the door "JACK SHEPPARD'S CAGE;" and upon the wall was affixed a large placard describing his person, and offering a reward for his capture. “Perhaps that is only sleeping,” he said. The clouds were nearly black with rain, threatening to spill sleet in daggers and torrents. But you have not finished surely. It feels like too much gold-dust clutched in one’s hand.
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