"You had better take up your book," said I; "I can hold him." He followed my advice; and, taking up his pocket-book, surveyed my prisoner with a ferocious look, occasionally glaring at me.

Yes, I had seen him before--it was the stranger whom I had observed on London Bridge, by the stall of the old apple-woman, with the cap and cloak; but, instead of these, he now wore a hat and great coat.

"Well," said I, at last, "what am I to do with this gentleman of ours ?" nodding to the prisoner, who had now left off struggling.

"Shall I let him go ?" "Go!" said the other, "go! The knave--the rascal; let him go, indeed! Not so, he shall go before the Lord Mayor.

Bring him along." "Oh, let me go," said the other: "let me go; this is the first offence, I assure ye--the first time I ever thought to do anything wrong." "Hold your tongue," said I, "or I shall be angry with you.