“There is no—Good God!” he exclaimed. I know you are in Jonathan Wild's power, for I saw him near you in the church; and if ever the enemy of mankind was permitted to take human form, I beheld him then. Once more cheered by daylight, he hastened forward, and entered the chapel. You must know, Sir, when he was a lad, the day after he broke into his master's house in Wych Street, he picked a gentleman's pocket in our church, during sarvice time,—that he did, the heathen. I am bothered. Buck up. CHAPTER XX.
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