There was all the knavery, and more than all the drollery of a Spanish picaroon in the laughing eyes of the English apprentice; and, with a little more warmth and sunniness of skin on the side of the latter, the resemblance between them would have been complete.
Satisfied, as he thought, that he had nothing to apprehend, the boy resumed his task, chanting, as he plied his knife with redoubled assiduity, the following--not inappropriate strains:-- THE NEWGATE STONE.
When Claude Du Val was in Newgate thrown, He carved his name on the dungeon stone; Quoth a dubsman, who gazed on the shattered wall, "You have carved your epitaph, Claude Du Val, _With your chisel so fine, tra la_!" "This S wants a little deepening," mused the apprentice, retouching the letter in question; "ay, that's better." Du Val was hang'd, and the next who came On the selfsame stone inscribed his name: "Aha!" quoth the dubsman, with devilish glee, "Tom Waters _your_ doom is the triple tree! _With your chisel so fine, tra la_!" "Tut, tut, tut," he cried, "what a fool I am to be sure! I ought to have cut John, not Jack.

However, it don't signify.

Nobody ever called me John, that I recollect.

So I dare say I was christened Jack.

Deuce take it! I was very near spelling my name with one P.
Within that dungeon lay Captain Bew, Rumbold and Whitney--a jolly crew! All carved their names on the stone, and all Share the fate of the brave Du Val! _With their chisels so fine, tra la_! "Save us!" continued the apprentice, "I hope this beam doesn't resemble the Newgate stone; or I may chance, like the great men the song speaks of, to swing on the Tyburn tree for my pains.