The first Step towards the Ladder. In after years, some pitying hand supplied the inscription, which ran thus— JACK SHEPPARD THE END. The thought did not occur to her, for all thought had flown out of her head. “God in Heaven, Annabel!” he cried. Empty, silly, coarse brutes. Shotbolt that if he, or any other person, takes Jack Sheppard before to-morrow morning, I'll double it. Now I’ll tell you what I propose. Winter came: rainy, damp, and savage. It is good sometimes to walk with a man who can look God squarely in the face, as you can.
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