Thus died Jack Sheppard. But I won't be cheated of my prize. My only love is for my poor lost son. Amid a litter of nails without heads, screws without worms, and locks without wards, lay a glue-pot and an oilstone, two articles which their owner was wont to term "his right hand and his left. But the offences I have committed are venial in comparison with what I should commit were I to wed your father. I might as well be at Morningside Park. All they left it was the moon and stars.
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