" "Farewell, Jack," cried twenty voices. It’s wrong in the eyes of most people. Her lover, Darrell, has embarked upon the Thames, where, if he's not capsized by the squall, (for it's blowing like the devil,) he stands a good chance of getting his throat cut by his pursuers—ha! ha! I tracked 'em to the banks of the river, and should have followed to see it out, if the watermen hadn't refused to take me. ” She said with love for them. "'Under the wide and starry sky, Dig the grave and let me lie.
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