Wherefore his career was no less
suitable to his ambition than his inglorious end. For he lived the king
of housebreakers, and he died a warning to all evildoers, with a prayer
of intercession trembling upon his lips.
The hero's boyhood is wrapped in obscurity. It is certain that no
glittering precocity brought disappointment to his maturer years, and he
was already nineteen when he achieved his first imprisonment. Even then
'twas a sorry offence, which merited no more than a month, so that he
returned to freedom and his fiddle with his character unbesmirched.
Serious as ever in pious exercises, he gained a scanty living as
strolling musician. There was never a tavern in Sheffield where the
twang of his violin was unheard, and the skill wherewith he extorted
music from a single string earned him the style and title of the modern
Paganini. But such an employ was too mean for his pride, and he soon
got to work again--this time with a better success. The mansions
of Sheffield were his early prey, and a rich plunder rewarded his
intrepidity. The design was as masterly as its accomplishment. The grand
style is already discernible. The houses were broken in quietude and
good order. None saw the opened window; none heard the step upon the
stair; in truth, the victim's loss was his first intelligence.
But when the booty was in the robber's own safe keeping, the empiricism
of his method was revealed. As yet he knew no secret and efficient fence
to shield him from detection; as yet he had not learnt that the complete
burglar works alone.
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