“Miss Ellicot!” Brendon echoed. None presented themselves to save him from that return. On one side of the handbill a print of the reigning sovereign, Anne, had been pinned over the portrait of William the Third, whose aquiline nose, keen eyes, and luxuriant wig, were just visible above the diadem of the queen. Here they were regaled with another plentiful meal by the hospitable carpenter, who personally superintended the repast. Some years ago, in 1715, just before the Rebellion, I was rash enough to league myself with the Jacobite party, and by Wild's machinations got clapped into Newgate, whence I was glad to escape with my head upon my shoulders. Brendon and I returned from the ‘Unusual,’ and found him lying in my room shot through the lungs.
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