the first turning on the left. Traversing Angel Court, and Green Arbour Court,-celebrated as one of Goldsmith's retreats,-he speedily reached Seacoal Lane, and pursuing the same course which he and Thames had formerly taken, arrived at the yard at the back of Jonathan's habitation.

A door, it may be remembered, opened from Wild's dwelling into this yard. Before he forced an entrance, Jack tried it, and, to his great surprise and delight, found it unfastened. Entering the house, he found himself in a narrow passage leading to the back-stairs. He had not taken many steps when he perceived Quilt Arnold in the upper gallery, with a lamp in his hand. Hearing a noise below, Quilt called out, supposing it occasioned by the Jew. Jack hastily retreated, and taking the first means of concealment that occurred to him, descended the cellar-steps.

Quilt, meanwhile, came down, examined the door, and finding it unfastened, locked it, with a bitter imprecation on his brother-janizary's carelessness. This done, he followed the course which Jack had just taken. As he crossed the cellar, he passed so near to Jack, who had concealed himself behind a piece of furniture, that he almost touched him. It was Jack's intention to have knocked him down with the iron bar; but he was so struck with the janizary's looks, that he determined to spare him till he had ascertained his purpose. With this view, he suffered him to pass on.

Quilt's manner, indeed, was that of a man endeavouring to muster up sufficient resolution for the commission of some desperate crime. He halted, looked fearfully around, stopped again, and exclaimed aloud, "I don't like the job; and yet it must be done, or Mr. Wild will hang me." With this, he appeared to pluck up his courage, and stepped forward more boldly.

"Some dreadful deed is about to be committed, which I may perhaps prevent," muttered Jack to himself. "Heaven grant I may not be too late!"

Followed by Jack Sheppard, who kept sufficiently near him to watch his proceedings, and yet not expose himself, Quilt unlocked one or two doors, which he left open, and after winding his way along a gloomy passage, arrived at the door of a vault. Here he set down the lamp, and took out a key, and as he did so, the expression of his countenance was so atrocious, that Jack felt assured he was not wrong in his suspicions.

By this time the door was unlocked, and drawing his sword, Quilt entered the cell. The next moment an exclamation was heard in the voice of Thames. Darting forward at this sound, Jack threw open the door, and beheld Quilt kneeling over Thames, whose hands and feet were bound with cords, and about to plunge his sword into his breast. A blow from the iron bar instantly stretched the ruffian on the floor. Jack then proceeded to liberate the captive from his bondage.

"It is," replied Sheppard, as he untied the cords. "I might return the question. Were it not for your voice, I don't think I should know you. You are greatly altered."

Captivity had indeed produced a striking alteration in Thames. He looked like the shadow of himself-thin, feeble, hollow-eyedhis beard unshorn-nothing could be more miserable.

"I have never been out of this horrible dungeon since we last met," he said; "though how long ago that is I scarcely know. Night and day have been alike to me."

"Six weeks have elapsed since that fatal night," replied Jack. "During the whole of that time I have been a close prisoner in Newgate, whence I have only just escaped."

"Six weeks!" exclaimed Thames, in a melancholy tone. "It seems like six long months to me."

"I do not doubt it," returned Jack; "none but those who have experienced it can understand the miseries of imprisonment."

"Do not speak of it," rejoined Thames, with a look of horror. "Let us fly from this frightful place."

"I will conduct you to the outlet," replied Jack; "but I cannot leave it till I have ascertained whether my mother also is a prisoner here."

"I can answer that," replied Thames. "She is.

The monster,

Wild, when he visited my dungeon last night, told me, to add to my misery, that she occupied a cell near me."

"Arm yourself with that ruffian's weapons," replied Jack," and let us search for her."

Thames complied; but he was so feeble, that it seemed scarcely possible he could offer any effectual resistance in case of an attack. "Lean on me," said Jack.

Taking the light, they then proceeded along the passage. There was no other door in it, and Jack therefore struck into another entry which branched off to the right. They had not proceeded far when

a low moan was heard.

"She is here," cried Jack, darting forward.

A few steps brought him to the door of the vault in which his mother was immured. It was locked. Jack had brought away the bunch of keys which he had taken from Quilt Arnold, but none of them would open it. He was therefore obliged to use the iron bar, which he did with as much caution as circumstances would permit. At the first blow, Mrs. Sheppard uttered a piercing scream. "Wretch!" she cried, "you shall never force me to your hateful purpose. I will never wed you. I have a weapon-a knife-and if you attempt to open the door, I will plunge it to my heart." "Oh God!" exclaimed Jack, paralysed by her cries. shall I do? If I persist, I shall destroy her."

"What

"Get hence," continued Mrs. Sheppard, with a frenzied laugh. "You shall never behold me alive."

"Mother!" cried Jack, in a broken voice. "It is your son." "It is false," cried Mrs. Sheppard. "Think not to deceive me, monster. I know my son's voice too well. He is in Newgate. Hence!"

46

Mother! dear mother!" cried Jack, in a voice the tones of which were altered by his very anxiety to make them distinct. "listen to me. I have broken from prison, and am come to save you."

"It is not Jack's voice," rejoined Mrs. Sheppard. "I am not to be deceived. The knife is at my breast. Stir a foot, and I strike." "Oh heavens!" cried Jack, driven to his wits' end. "Motherdear mother! Once again, I beseech you to listen to me. I am

come to rescue you from Wild's violence. door. Hold your hand for a moment."

I must break open the

"You have heard my fixed determination, villain," cried Mrs. Sheppard. "I know my life is valuable to you, or you would not spare it. But I will disappoint you. Get you gone. Your purposes are defeated."

"Footsteps are approaching," cried Thames.

is but a wild threat."

"Heed her not. It

"I know not how to act," exclaimed Jack, almost driven to desperation.

"I hear you plotting with your wicked associates," cried Mrs. Sheppard. I have baffled you."

"Force the door," said Thames," or you will be too late."

"Better she die by her own hand, than by that monster's," cried Jack, brandishing the bar. "Mother, I come to you."

With this, he struck the door a heavy blow.

He listened. There was a deep groan, and the sound of a fall within.

"I have killed her," exclaimed Jack, dropping the bar, "by your advice, Thames. Oh God! pardon me."

"Do not delay," cried Thames. "She may yet be saved; too weak to aid you."

I am

Jack again seized the bar, and dashing it furiously against the door, speedily burst it open.

The unfortunate woman was stretched upon the floor, with a bloody knife in her hand.

"Mother!" cried Jack, springing towards her.

"Jack!" she cried, raising her head. "Is it you ?"

"It is," replied her son. "Oh! why would you not listen to

me ?"

"I was distracted," replied Mrs. Sheppard, faintly.

I have killed you," cried Jack, endeavouring to stanch the effusion of blood from her breast. "Forgive-forgive me!"

"I have nothing to forgive," replied Mrs. Sheppard. "I alone am to blame."

"Can I not carry you where you can obtain help ?" cried Jack, in an agony of distress.

"It is useless," replied Mrs. Sheppard: "nothing can save me. I die happy--quite happy in beholding you. Do not remain with me. You may fall into the hands of your enemy. Fly! fly!"

"Do not think of me, mother, but of yourself," cried Jack, in an agony of tears.

"You have always been far dearer to me than myself," replied Mrs. Sheppard. "But I have one last request to make. Let me lie in Willesden churchyard."

"You shall-you shall," answered Jack.

"We shall meet again ere long, my son," cried Mrs. Sheppard, fixing her glazing eyes upon him.

"Oh God! she is dying," exclaimed Jack, in a voice suffocated

by emotion." Forgive me-oh, forgive me!"

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Forgive you bless you!" she gasped.

A cold shiver ran through her frame, and her gentle spirit passed away for ever.

"Oh God! that I might die too," cried Jack, falling on his knees beside her.

After the first violent outbreak of grief had in some degree subsided, Thames addressed him.

"You must not remain here," he said. "You can render no further service to your poor mother."

"I can avenge her," cried Jack, in a terrible tone.

"Be ruled by me," returned Thames. "You will act most in accordance with her wishes, could she dictate them, by compliance. Do not waste time in vain regrets, but let us remove the body, that we may fulfil her last injunctions."

After some farther arguments, Jack assented to this proposal.

"Go on first with the light," he said. "I will bear the body." And he raised it in his arms.

Just as they reached the end of the passage, they heard the voices of Jonathan and the Jew in Thames's late place of confinement. Wild had evidently discovered the body of Quilt Arnold, and was loudly expressing his anger and astonishment.

"Extinguish the light," cried Jack; "turn to the left. Quick! quick!"

The order was only just given in time. They had scarcely gained the adjoining cellar when Jonathan and the Jew rushed past in the direction of the vault.

"Not a moment is to be lost," cried Jack. "Follow me."

So saying, he hurried up stairs, opened the back door, and was quickly in the yard. Having ascertained that Thames was at his heels, he hurried with his ghastly burthen down Seacoal-lane.

"Where are you going?" cried Thames, who, though wholly disencumbered, was scarcely able to keep up with him.

"I know not-and care not," replied Jack.

At this moment a coach passed them, and was instantly hailed by Thames.

"You had better let me convey her to Dollis Hill," he said.

"Be it so," replied Jack.

Luckily it was so dark, and there was no lamp near, that the man did not notice the condition of the body which was placed in the vehicle by the two young men.

"What will you do?" asked Thames. "Leave me to my fate," rejoined Jack. charge."

"Doubt me not," replied Thames.

"Take care of your

"Bury her in Willesden churchyard, as she requested, on Sunday," said Jack. "I will be there at the time."

So saying, he closed the door.

The coachman having received his order, and being offered an extra fare if he drove quickly, set off at full speed

As Jack departed, a dark figure, emerging from behind a wall, rushed after him.

KATERINA.

THE DWARF OF THE JUNGFERNSTIEG.

EVERY one knows (who knows any thing about the great and free city of Hamburg) that the lowest classes of society within its ramparts are sadly to be pitied. The rich are very great people there, as they are everywhere else, and the poor are very small indeed. They are diminutive alike in stature and importance, so that Katerina Bürger, though barely three feet high, was by no means remarkable among her own particular class; and no one in it would ever have dreamed of such a thing as calling her a dwarf. The magnificent senators (for a senator is "Your Magnificence," even though his name be inscribed in large characters on the milk cart which stops daily at your door,)—the magnificent" senators walk proudly by the poor little inhabitants of "the old town," and feel with reason that they stand higher in the scale of creation, while the rickety and undersized creatures stop in their painful walk, to gaze with envy on their fellow mortals, who by the "accident of birth" are placed so infinitely above them.

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It was Sunday, and the Jungfernstieg (the fashionable promenade of the Hamburgers) was crowded with company. Gentle and simple, Jew and Gentile, bond and free, were on the wide walk together. The little race, of whom we have begun to speak, were also there, the pigmy creatures who live, or rather vegetate, in damp cellars, and who crawl out on warm Sundays, to air themselves and their clothes on the sunny Jungfernstieg. And there was Katerina; and she must be described, for a stranger little being in form, feature and mind, could hardly be imagined. She lived in one of the darkest and narrowest streets in the oldest part of Hamburg. The houses there are very high, and a sluggish canal crosses its confined limits; over it is a small bridge, from which the passenger looks down in dismay and disgust on the deep black waters, and pities the forlorn beings who are dragging out their existence within its unwholesome influence.

It is said that rich men own the houses in that melancholy street, on which the sun never shines, and where the stream of life seems to stand still. It is said that those rich men heap up their gold above the heads of the forlorn dwellers in the damp cellars beneath, and that there the utmost extremes of wealth and poverty are to be found. It may be so, but of that wealth Katerina knew but little, to judge from the abject appearance of herself and all belonging to her. Underground, and close to the canal, was her abode; and from that home she never stirred, except on Sundays; and now she is on the promenade, taking her weekly recreation. Short as she was, her legs must have been disproportionately diminutive, judging from the rate at which she progressed, for she did not compass more than one mile an hour. Her head was large, and adorned with one of the large white caps with flapping borders, worn by the Hainburg maid-servants; her dress was of coarse brown stuff, of which she took amazing care, scrupulously lifting up the petticoat when accident obliged her to cross a puddle. Her height was that of a well-grown child of two years old, and her breadth exceeded her stature. Add to this description that she was at least sixty years of age, that her complexion was of a dirty yellow, and her countenance most forbidding, and Katerina Bürger is before you.