As Spurlock called her name, she paused and turned. At the head of the cart was placed the coffin. She could not part with dignity. At the precise period of this history, the Jacobite party was full of hope and confidence. Yes!" she screamed, "these are his father's features! It is—it is my son!" "Mother!" cried Thames; "are you, indeed, my mother?" "I am, indeed—my own sweet boy!" she sobbed, pressing him tenderly to her breast. Very fascinating, though, trying to analyse the impulse. On this elevation a table was now placed, around which sat the turnkeys and their guests, regaling themselves on the fragrant beverage provided by the prisoner.
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