Slowly descending Snow Hill, the train passed on its way, attended by the same stunning vociferations, cheers, yells, and outcries, which had accompanied it on starting from Newgate. Sheppard," rejoined Winifred kindly. Oh, you cannot escape from it. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. The picturesque scoundrel had the true gift; and Spurlock was filled with pity at the thought of such genius gone to pot. Sheppard, passionately,—"he has my boundless gratitude, and devotion.
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