“Let me see,” replied Wood; “exactly twelve years ago last November.”

“Why, that must be about the time of the Great Storm,” rejoined Jackson.

“Egad!” exclaimed Wood, “you’ve hit the right nail on the head, anyhow.  It was on the night of the Great Storm that I found him.”

“I should like to hear all particulars of the affair,” said Jackson, “if it wouldn’t be troubling you too much.”

Mr. Wood required little pressing.  He took a sip of punch and commenced his relation.  Though meant to produce a totally different effect, the narrative seemed to excite the risible propensities rather than the commiseration of his auditor; and when Mr. Wood wound it up by a description of the drenching he had undergone at the Mint pump, the other could hold out no longer, but, leaning back in his chair, gave free scope to his merriment.

“I beg your pardon,” he cried; “but really—­ha! ha!—­you must excuse me!—­that is so uncommonly diverting—­ha! ha!  Do let me hear it again?—­ha! ha! ha!”

“Upon my word,” rejoined Wood, “you seem vastly entertained by my misfortunes.”

“To be sure!  Nothing entertains me so much.  People always rejoice at the misfortunes of others—­never at their own!  The droll dogs! how they must have enjoyed it!—­ha! ha!”

“I dare say they did.  But I found it no laughing matter, I can assure you.  And, though it’s a long time ago, I feel as sore on the subject as ever.”

“Quite natural!  Never forgive an injury!—­I never do!—­ha! ha!”

“Really, Mr. Jackson, I could almost fancy we had met before.  Your laugh reminds me of—­of——­”

“Whose, Sir?” demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave.

“You’ll not be offended, I hope,” returned Wood, drily, “if I say that your voice, your manner, and, above all, your very extraordinary way of laughing, put me strangely in mind of one of the ‘droll dogs,’ (as you term them,) who helped to perpetrate the outrage I’ve just described.”

“Whom do you mean?” demanded Jackson.

“I allude to an individual, who has since acquired an infamous notoriety as a thief-taker; but who, in those days, was himself the associate of thieves.”

“Well, Sir, his name?”

“Jonathan Wild.”

“’Sblood!” cried Jackson, rising, “I can’t sit still and hear Mr. Wild, whom I believe to be as honest a gentleman as any in the kingdom, calumniated!”

“Fire and fury!” exclaimed Smith, getting up with the brandy-bottle in his grasp; “no man shall abuse Mr. Wild in my presence!  He’s the right-hand of the community!  We could do nothing without him!”

“We!” repeated Wood, significantly.

“Every honest man, Sir!  He helps us to our own again.”

“Humph!” ejaculated the carpenter.

“Surely,” observed Thames, laughing, “to one who entertains so high an opinion of Jonathan Wild, as Mr. Jackson appears to do, it can’t be very offensive to be told, that he’s like him.”