She was not allowed to bathe herself: another prisoner, with a privileged manner, washed her. In the middle of the little town stood the shop of a Jew dealer in old clothes. " "It's Jonathan Wild," returned the widow, endeavouring to alarm him. Acting upon this humane determination, he impelled himself slowly backwards,—for he did not dare to face the blast,—and with incredible labour and fatigue reached the crevice. Scarcely had it come to a halt, when a stalwart man shouldered his way, in spite of their opposition, through the lines of soldiery to the cart, and offered his large horny hand to the prisoner. She had never imagined life was half so sinister as it looked to her in the beginning of these investigations. Wood, who had recovered her good humour, quitted the room she bestowed a hearty embrace on Thames, and she told him laughingly, that she would "defer all she had to propose to him until to-morrow.
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