"I have him!" cried a voice in triumph. " Quitting the night-cellar, the trio soon arrived at the riverside. ‘Softly, you say?’ she uttered, raging. She uncrossed her legs and lowered herself, carefully and slowly, until she lay supine. Her eye wandered quickly over that riotous and disorderly assemblage, until it settled upon one group more riotous and disorderly than the rest, of which her son formed the principal figure. ‘Beg your pardon, ma’am, but she’s enough to try the patience of a saint. Yes!" she screamed, "these are his father's features! It is—it is my son!" "Mother!" cried Thames; "are you, indeed, my mother?" "I am, indeed—my own sweet boy!" she sobbed, pressing him tenderly to her breast.
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