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. " "What a mistake!" "Yes. “Are you going to the Vorsack’s for dinner tonight?” “Yes, I think I’ll stop by. Old farmhouses loomed as they whizzed by, left behind in the gray like mourners. Aha!" he continued, producing a short silver staff, which he carried constantly about with him, and uttering a terrible imprecation, "I see you're confounded. Sure Mike!" At the hotel he wrote a long letter to his chief, explaining every detail of the fizzle.
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