ToC In a hollow in the meadows behind the prison whence Jack Sheppard had escaped,—for, at this time, the whole of the now thickly-peopled district north of Clerkenwell Bridewell was open country, stretching out in fertile fields in the direction of Islington—and about a quarter of a mile off, stood a solitary hovel, known as Black Mary's Hole. " "Oh! he told you that, did he?" said Blueskin, marching up to her, and chucking her under the chin. The latter had delivered himself from one of his assailants, the attendant, Davies. 207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name. Even, I do not mind to study this Latin so abominable. Master and missis have been talking all day long about Jack Sheppard, and I'm dying to read his life.
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