which he crept down once more as far as the room where the company were, when he heard a gentleman taking his leave of the family, and saw the maid light him down stairs. As soon as the maid returned he resolved to venture at all hazards; but in stealing down the stairs he stumbled against a chamber-door; but instantly recovering himself, he got into the street. By this time it was after twelve o'clock, and passing by the witch-house of St. Sepulchre, he bid the watchmen good morrow, and going up Holborn, he turned down Gray's-inn-lane, and about two in the morning got into the fields near Tottenham-court, where he took shelter in a place that had been a cow-house, and slept soundly about three hours. His fetters being still on, his legs were greatly bruised and swelled, and he dreaded the approach of daylight, lest he should be discovered. He had now abore forty shillings in his possession, but was afraid to send to any person for assistance. At seven in the morning it began to rain hard, and continued to do so all day, so that no person appeared in the fields: and during this melancholy day he would, to use his own expression, "have given his right hand for a hammer, “a chisel, and a punch." Night coming on, and being pressed by hunger, he ventured to a little chandler's shop in Tottenham court road, where he got a supply of bread, cheese, small-beer, and some other necessaries, hiding his irons with a long great coat. He asked the woman of the house for a hammer; but she had no such utensil: on which he retired to the cow-house, where be slept that night, and remained all the next day. At night he went again to the chandler's shop, supplied himself with provisions, and returned to his hiding place. At six the next morning, which was Sunday, he began to beat the basils of his fetters with a stone, in order to bring them to an oval form, to' slip his heels through. In the afternoon the master of the cow-house, coming thither, and seeing his irons, said, "For God's sake who are you ?” Sheppard said he was an unfortunate young fellow, who having had a bastard sworn to him, and not being able to give security to the parish for its support, he had been sent to Bridewell, from whence he had made his escape. The man said if that was all it did not much signify, but he did not care how soon he was gone, for he did not like his looks. Soon after he was gone, Sheppard saw a journeyman shoemaker, to whom he told the same story of the bastard child, and offered him twenty shillings if he would procure a smith's hammer and a punch. The poor man, tempted by the reward, procured them accordingly, and assisted him in getting rid of his irons, which work was completed by five o'clock in the evening. When night came on our adventurer tied a handkerchief about his head, tore his woollen cap in several places, and likewise tore his coat and stockings, so as to have the appearance of a beggar; and in this condition he went to a cellar near Charing-Cross, where he supped on roasted veal, and listened to the conversation of the company, all of whom were talking of the escape of Sheppard. On the Monday he sheltered himself at a public-house of little trade, in Rupert-street, and conversing with the landlady about Sheppard, he told her it was impossible for him to get out of the kingdom; and the keepers would certainly have him again in a few days; on which the woman wished that a curse might fall on those who should betray him. Remaining in this place till evening, he went into the Hay-market, where a crowd of people were surrounding two ballad-singers, and listening to a song made on his adventures and escape. On the next day he hired a garret in Newport-market, and soon afterwards, dressing himself like a porter, he went to Black-friars, to the house of Mr. Applebee, printer of the dying speeches, and delivered a letter, in which be ridiculed the printer, and the Ordinary of Newgate, and enclosed a letter for one of the keepers of Newgate. Some nights after this he broke open the shop of Mr. Rawlins, a pawnbroker in Drury-lane, where he stole sword, a suit of wearing apparel, some snuff-boxes, rings, watches, and other effects, to a considerable amount. Determining to make the appearance of a gentleman among his old acquaintance in Drury-lane and Clare-market, he dressed himself in a suit of black and a tye-wig, wore a ruffled shirt, a silver-hilted sword, a diamond ring, and a gold watch; though he knew that diligent search was making after him at that very time. On the 31st of October he dined with two women at a public-house in Newgate-street, and about four in the afternoon they all passed under Newgate in a hackney coach, having first drawn up the blinds. Going in the evening to a public-house in May-pole Alley, Clare-market, Sheppard sent for his mother, and treated her with brandy, when the poor woman dropped on her knees, and begged he would immediately quit the kingdom, which he promised to do, but had no intention of keeping his word. Being now grown valiant through an excess of liquor, he wandered from alehouses to gin-shops in the neighbourhood, till near twelve o'clock at night, when he was apprehended in consequence of the information of an alehouseboy who knew him. When taken into custody he was quite senseless, from the quantity and variety of liquors he had drank, and was conveyed to Newgate in à coach, without being capable of making the least resistance, though he had two pistols then in his possession. His fame was now so much increased by his exploits that he was visited by great numbers of people, and some of them of the highest quality. He endeavoured to divert them by a recital of the particulars of many robberies in which he had been concerned; and when any nobleman came to see him, he never failed to beg that they would intercede with the king for a pardon, to which he thought that his singular dexterity gave him some pretentions. Having been already convicted, he was carried to the bar of the court of King's-Bench on the 10th of November, and the record of his conviction being read, and an affidavit being made that he was the same John Sheppard mentioned in the record, sentence of death was passed on him by Mr. Justice Powis, and a rule of court was made for his execution on the Monday following. He regularly attended the prayers in the chapel, but though he behaved with decency there, he affected mirth before he went thither, and endeavoured to prevent any degree of seriousness among the other prisoners on their return. Even when the day of execution arrived, Sheppard did not appear to have given over all expectations of eluding justice; for having been furnished with a penknife, he put it in his pocket, with a view, when the melancholy procession came opposite Little Turnstile, to have cut the cord that bound his arms, and throwing himself out of the cart, among the crowd, to have run through the narrow passage, where the sheriffs officers could not follow on horseback; and he had no doubt but he should make his escape, by the assistance of the mob. It is not impossible but that this scheme might have succeeded: but before Sheppard left the press-yard, one Watson, an officer, searching his pockets, found the knife, and was cut with it, so as to occasion a great effusion of blood. Sheppard had yet a farther view to his preservation, even after execution; for he desired his acquaintance to put him into a warm bed as soon as he should be cut down; and try to open a vein, which he had been told would restore him to life. He behaved with great decency at the place of execution, and confessed the having committed two robberies, for which he had been tried and acquitted. He was executed at Tyburn on the 16th of November, 1724, in the 23d year of his age. He died with difficulty, and was much pitied by the surrounding multitude. When he was cut down his body was delivered to his friends, who carried him to a public-house in Long-acre, whence he was removed in the evening, and buried in the church-yard of St. Martin in the Fields. It is astonishing to think how much Sheppard and his adventures engaged the attention of the public. For a considerable time there was scarcely a subject of conversation but himself. There were several different histories of his life; and a variety of prints were' worked off, representing his escapes from the condemned hold, and from the castle in Newgate; and there were likewise several other prints of his person; the best of which was a mezzotinto, done from an original painting of Sir James Thornhill, which gave rise to the following ingenious lines. 1. , Thornhill, 'tis thine to gild with fame Tho' life in vain the wretch implores, This piece to latest time shall stand, Appelles, Alexander drew, Cæsar is to Aurelius due, Cromwell in Lely's works doth shine, |