Some years ago, in 1715, just before the Rebellion, I was rash enough to league myself with the Jacobite party, and by Wild's machinations got clapped into Newgate, whence I was glad to escape with my head upon my shoulders. At least, I frustrated her design in calling upon him this morning. Read that letter, Thames—my lord marquis, I mean. "Write as I dictate," he cried, placing a pen in the jailer's hand and a pistol to his ear. I’ll take over here. ‘What mischief?’ ‘I don’t know, but I’ll go bail you’re at something.
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