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With his chisel so fine, tra la! "There!" cried the boy, leaping from the stool, and drawing back a few paces on the bench to examine his performance,—"that'll do. 1. I feel like a fraudulent trustee. ” Miss Stanley turned to her. Almost at once she had comprehended that she was expected to write down her name and address, which she did, in slanting cobwebby lettering, perhaps a trifle laboriously. “All the time he is shouting and muttering. In after years, some pitying hand supplied the inscription, which ran thus— JACK SHEPPARD THE END. Poor little one. “I believed that he was the great multi-millionaire.
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