No fear o' that .-- Though if my name should become as famous as theirs, it wouldn't much matter.
The prospect of the gallows would never deter me from taking to the road, if I were so inclined.
Full twenty highwaymen blithe and bold, Rattled their chains in that dungeon old; Of all that number there 'scaped not one Who carved his name on the Newgate Stone.
_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.

Claude du Val himself couldn't have carved it better--ha! ha!" The name inscribed upon the beam (of which, as it has been carefully preserved by the subsequent owners of Mr.Wood's habitation in Wych Street, we are luckily enabled to furnish a facsimile) was [Illustration: Jack Sheppard (signature)] "I've half a mind to give old Wood the slip, and turn highwayman," cried Jack, as he closed the knife, and put it in his pocket.
"The devil you have!" thundered a voice from behind, that filled the apprentice with dismay.

"Come down, sirrah, and I'll teach you how to deface my walls in future.

Come down, I say, instantly, or I'll make you." Upon which, Mr.Wood caught hold of Jack's leg, and dragged him off the bench.
"And so you'll turn highwayman, will you, you young dog ?" continued the carpenter, cuffing him soundly,--"rob the mails, like Jack Hall, I suppose." "Yes, I will," replied Jack sullenly, "if you beat me in that way." Amazed at the boy's assurance, Wood left off boxing his ears for a moment, and, looking at him steadfastly, said in a grave tone, "Jack, Jack, you'll come to be hanged!" "Better be hanged than hen-pecked," retorted the lad with a malicious grin.
"What do you mean by that, sirrah ?" cried Wood, reddening with anger.
"Do you dare to insinuate that Mrs.Wood governs me ?" "It's plain you can't govern yourself, at all events," replied Jack coolly; "but, be that as it may, I won't be struck for nothing." "Nothing," echoed Wood furiously.

"Do you call neglecting your work, and singing flash songs nothing?
Zounds! you incorrigible rascal, many a master would have taken you before a magistrate, and prayed for your solitary confinement in Bridewell for the least of these offences.