"On my soul, Thames, you wrong me!" replied Jack, passionately. "I'd lay down my life for yours." "And you expect me to believe you after what has passed?" "I do; and, more than that, I expect you to thank me." "For procuring my imprisonment?" "For saving your life." "How ?" "Listen to me, Thames. You're in a more serious scrape than you imagine. I overheard Jonathan Wild's instructions to Quilt Arnold, and though he spoke in slang, and in an undertone, my quick ears, and acquaintance with the thieves' lingo, enabled me to make out every word he uttered. Jonathan is in league with Sir Rowland to make away with you. You are brought here that their designs may be carried into effect with greater security. Before morning, unless we can effect an escape, you'll be kidnapped, or murdered, and your disappearance attributed to the negligence of the constable." "Are you sure of this?" asked Thames, who, though as brave a lad as need be, could not repress a shudder at the intelligence. "Certain. The moment I entered the room, and found you a prisoner in the hands of Jonathan Wild, I guessed how matters stood, and acted accordingly. Things haven't gone quite as smoothly as I anticipated; but they might have been worse. I can save you, and will. But, say we're friends." "You're not deceiving me!" said Thames, doubtfully. "I am not, by heaven !" replied Sheppard, firmly. "Don't swear, Jack, or I shall distrust you. I can't give you my hand; but you may take it." "Thank you! thank you!" faltered Jack, in a voice full of emotion. "I'll soon free you from these bracelets." "You needn't trouble yourself," replied Thames. Wood will be here presently." "Mr. "Mr. Wood!" exclaimed Jack, in surprise. "How have you managed to communicate with him ?" Abraham, who had listened attentively to the foregoing conversation, not a word of which escaped him,-now drew in his breath, and brought his ear closer to the boards. "By means of the watchman who had the charge of me," replied Thames. "Curse him!" muttered Abraham. "Hist!" exclaimed Jack. "I thought I heard a noise. Speak lower. Somebody may be on the watch-perhaps, that old ginger-hackled Jew." "I don't care if he is," rejoined Thames, boldly. "He'll learn that his plans will be defeated." "He may learn how to defeat yours," replied Jack. "So he may," rejoined Abraham, aloud," so he may." "Death and fiends!" exclaimed Jack; "the old thief is there. I knew it. You 've betrayed yourself, Thames." "Vot o' that ?” chuckled Abraham. "You can shave him, you know." "I can," rejoined Jack; "and you, too, old Aaron, if I'd a "How soon do you expect Mishter Vudd ?" inquired the janizary, tauntingly. "What's that to you ?" retorted Jack, surlily. "Because I shouldn't like to be out o' the vay ven he arrives," returned Abraham, in a jeering tone; "it voudn't be 1. vell bred." "Vouldn't it!" replied Jack, mimicking his snuffling voice; "then shtay vere you are, and be cursed to you." "It's all up," muttered Thames. "Mr. Wood will be in tercepted. I've destroyed my only chance." "Not your only chance, Thames," returned Jack, in the same undertone; "but your best. Never mind. We'll turn the tables upon 'em yet. Do you think we could manage that old clothesman between us, if we got out of this box ?" "I'd manage him myself, if my arms were free,” replied Thames, boldly. "Shpeak up, vill you?" cried Abraham, rapping his knuckles against the hatch. "I likes to hear vot you says. You can have no shecrets from me." "Vy don't you talk to your partner, or Saint Giles, if you vant conversation, Aaron ?" asked Jack, slily. "Because they're in the next room, and the door's shut; that's vy, my jack-a-dandy!" replied Abraham, unsuspiciously. "Oh! they are-are they?" muttered Jack, triumphantly; "that 'll do. Now for it, Thames! Make as great a row as you can to divert his attention." With this, he drew the spike from his pocket; and, drowning the sound of the operation by whistling, singing, shuffling, and other noises, contrived, in a few minutes, to liberate his compa nion from the handcuffs. "Now, Jack," cried Thames, warmly grasping Sheppard's hand, "you are my friend again. I freely forgive you." 66 Sheppard cordially returned the pressure; and, cautioning Thames, not to let the ruffles drop, or they might tell a tale," began to warble the following fragment of a robber melody: "Oh! give me a chisel, a knife, or a file, And the dubsmen shall find that I'll do it in style! "Vot the devil are you about, noisy ?" inquired Abraham. "Not before it's needed," returned Jack, aloud; adding in a whisper, "get upon my shoulders, Thames. Now you 're up, take this spike. Feel for the lock, and prize it open, — you don't need to be told how. When it's done, I'll push you through. Take care of the old clothesman, and leave the rest to me. When the turnkey, next morning, stepp'd into his room, As Jack concluded his ditty, the door flew open with a crash, and Thames sprang through the aperture. This manœuvre was so suddenly executed that it took Abraham completely by surprise. He was standing at the moment close to the hatch, with his ear at the keyhole, and received a severe blow in the face. He staggered back a few paces; and, before he could recover himself, Thames tripped up his heels, and, placing the point of the spike at his throat, threatened to stab him if he attempted to stir, or cry out. Nor had Jack been idle all this time. Clearing the recess the instant after his companion, he flew to the door of the inner room, and, locking it, took out the key. The policy of this step was immediately apparent. Alarmed by the noise of the scuffle, Quilt and Sharples rushed to the assistance of their comrade. But they were too late. The entrance was barred against them; and they had the additional mortification of hearing Sheppard's loud laughter at their discomfiture. "I told you the prison wasn't built that could hold me," cried Jack. "You're not out yet, you young hound ?" rejoined Quilt, striving ineffectually to burst open the door. "But I soon shall be," returned Jack; "take these," he added, flinging the handcuffs against the wooden partition, “and wear 'em yourself." "Halloo, Nab!" vociferated Quilt. "What the devil are you about? Will you allow yourself to be beaten by a couple of kids ?" "Not if I can help it," returned Abraham, making a desperate effort to regain his feet. "By my shalvation, boy," he added, fiercely, "if you don't take your hand off my peard, I'll shtrangle you." "Help me, Jack!" shouted Thames, "or I shan't be able to keep the villain down.” "Stick the spike into him, then," returned Sheppard, coolly, "while I unbar the outlet." But Thames had no intention of following his friend's advice. Contenting himself with brandishing the weapon in the Jew's eyes, he exerted all his force to prevent him from rising. While this took place, while Quilt thundered at the inner door, and Jack drew back the bolts of the outer, a deep, manly voice was heard chanting as if in contempt of the general up roar-the following strain :— With pipe and punch upon the board, And smiling nymphs around us; No tavern could more mirth afford The roundhouse! the roundhouse! "The jolly, jolly roundhouse!" chorussed Sheppard, as the last bar yielded to his efforts. "Hurrah! come along, Thames; we 're free." "Not so fasht-not so fasht!" cried Abraham, struggling with Thames, and detaining him; "if you go, you musht take me along vid you." "Save yourself, Jack !" shouted Thames, sinking beneath the superior weight and strength of his opponent; "leave me to my fate!" "Never,” replied Jack, hurrying towards him. And, snatching the spike from Thames, he struck the janizary a severe blow on the head. "I'll make sure work this time," he added, about to repeat the blow. "Hold !" interposed Thames," he can do no more mischief. Let us be gone." "As you please," returned Jack, leaping up; "but I feel devilishly inclined to finish him. However, it would only be robbing the hangman of his dues." With this, he was preparing to follow his friend, when their egress was prevented by the sudden appearance of Jonathan Wild and Blueskin. 1838. THE MEMORY OF THE POETS. THE fame of those sweet bards, whose fancies lie, Earth's greenest bowers with fresh delight to fill, T. N. TALFOurd. RAMBLES AMONG THE RIVERS.-No. I. BY CHARLES MACKAY. THE THAMES AND HIS TRIBUTARIES. MAN speaks of the "Mother Earth," from whence he came, and whither he returns; but, after all, the honour of his maternity be longs to WATER. Earth is but the nurse of another's progeny; she merely nourishes the children of a more prolific element, by whom she herself is fed and clothed in return. Water is the universal mother, the beneficent, the all-fructifying,-beautiful to the eye, refreshing to the touch, pleasant to the palate, and musical to the ear. What should we be without her? We have only to imagine the condition of the moon, and the question is answered. Men with great telescopes, who have looked over her surface, and examined every hole and cranny in her, have decided that there are no RIVERS in her, and, for want of water, she is nothing but a dry and uninhabitable rock. There is neither salt water nor fresh in all her extent. She is the abode of no living thing, the Gehenna of desolation,— the mere skeleton of a world, which the sun may light, but cannot warm. No wonder that she looks so pale and woe-begone as she sails along the sky, and that lovers and poets, ignorant of her peculiar misfortune, have so often asked her the reason of her sorrow. I 'faith, they would be sorry too, if they had no more moisture in their composition than she has. Rivers all over the world are rich in remembrances. To them are attached all the poetry and romance of a nation. Popular superstition clings around them, and every mile of their course is celebrated for some incident,-is the scene of a desperate adventure, a mournful legend, or an old song. What a swarm of pleasant thoughts rise upon the memory at the sole mention of the Rhine!-what a host of recollections are recalled by the name of the Danube, the Rhone, the Garonne, the Meuse, the Seine, the Loire, the Tagus, the Guadalquivir!-even the low-banked and unpicturesque Elbe and Scheldt are dear as household things to the neighbouring people. Their praises are sung in a hundred different idioms; and the fair maidens who have dwelt upon their banks, and become celebrated for their beauty, their cruelty, or their woe, have their names mingled with that of the river in the indissoluble bands of national song. To the man who has a catholic faith in poetry, every river in Scotland may be said to be holy water. Liddell, and Tweed, and Dee,-Tiviot, and Tay, and Forth,-and doleful Yarrow, sanctified by a hundred songs. Poetry and romance have thrown a charm around them, and tourists from every land are familiar with their history. Great writers have thought it a labour of love to collect into one focus all the scattered memoranda and fleeting scraps of ballads relating to them, until those insignificant streams have become richer than any of our isle in recollections which shall never fade. "And what has been done for these, shall none be found to do for thee, O Thames?" said we to ourselves, as we thought of these things one fine summer morning. "Art thou of so little conse |