" "Oh! certainly," answered Griffin; "certainly. Wood's dwelling,—a plain, substantial, commodious farm-house. He had an objective now. That night she found a ship bound to sail for the heathen nation called America. Crouching down, Gerald waited, hands at the ready. We were going at a mad pace. "Whose house do you want, master?" said the man, touching his hat. Now, the reward?" "I have but an ill-furnished purse. If Jack Sheppard could behold his mother in this state, he'd have a lesson he'd never forget—ay, and a severer one than even the hangman could read him.
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