"Thames!—Thames!" cried Winifred, rushing to the window. She, however, had no idea of doing anything of the sort. "Oh, God! that I might die too," cried Jack, falling on his knees beside her. It had evidently seen better days before being relegated to the ministrations of a hackney coachman, one who evidently served the less affluent inhabitants of London. He frowned. ‘Now then,’ said the captain sternly, ‘I’m not going to ask you what you’re doing here. "I have dreamed that I shall see him before I die," she rejoined. Do you know whoso portrait this is?" "I do not," replied Thames, repressing his tears, "but I believe it to be the portrait of my father. ‘Who me, sir? Lor’ no, sir.
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