Apparently I’m not to exist yet. “Forgive you, indeed. Some years ago, in 1715, just before the Rebellion, I was rash enough to league myself with the Jacobite party, and by Wild's machinations got clapped into Newgate, whence I was glad to escape with my head upon my shoulders. Most of the mob were armed with pikes, staves, swords, muskets, and other weapons, and offered a most desperate resistance to the soldiery, whom they drove back with a shower of paving-stones. “The horse’s knees are broken, and I am not sure that the man is sober. "The devil you have!" thundered a voice from behind, that filled the apprentice with dismay.
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