"It was given me by a man who was drinking t'other night with Blueskin at the Lion! and who, though he slouched his hat over his eyes, and muffled his chin in a handkerchief, must have been Jonathan Wild. "These writer chaps are queer birds. He had brought the shrubs down from Syria, and, strangely enough, they had prospered. You truly are your mother’s, Lucia. His red hair marked him, cut short into a round shape that had the texture of a Brillo pad. As this gentleman was going away, he said to Jack in a jesting manner, 'that he should be glad to see him to-night at supper. E. " "'Tis he, by Heaven!" cried Jonathan; "this is lucky.
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