We've got to make him take up the harp of life and go twanging it again. The veins in his throat and forehead swelled and blackened; his eyes protruded from their sockets, and stared wildly; a thick damp gathered on his brow: and blood gushed from his mouth, nostrils, and ears. Wood was an old friend of mine—and I recollect seeing Jack when he was bound 'prentice to him. " "'Ouns!" ejaculated Terence, in alarm, "would you turn snitch on your old pal, Quilt?" "Ay, if he plays a-cross," returned Quilt. Sorry I’m a bit late the first evening.
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