"Can you make me other than a condemned felon? Can you make me not Jack Sheppard?" "No," replied Blueskin; "and I wouldn't if I could. Anna admitted the fact. 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.
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