A native of Manchester, he was the son of Kenelm Kneebone, a staunch Catholic, and a sergeant of dragoons, who lost his legs and his life while fighting for James the Second at the battle of the Boyne, and who had little to bequeath his son except his laurels and his loyalty to the house of Stuart. Then a handkerchief was thrown over the cage, to prevent the bird from singing; it was her favourite canary. As she went on, the story began to sound more and more like a recitation. I speak frankly, because you also know that no possible extremity would induce me to accept help from any living person. I've often regretted that I didn't investigate the matter. Just as the attendants were preparing to lower the corpse into the earth, Jack fell on his knees beside the coffin, uttering the wildest exclamations of grief, reproaching himself with the murder of his mother, and invoking the vengeance of Heaven on his own head. I offer you my assistance on certain terms.
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