But Jack was too well versed in the geography of the place to attempt either of them. "Ay, what's the matter, boy!" reiterated Jackson sternly. A full-curled wig descended half-way down his back and shoulders; a neckcloth of "right Mechlin" was twisted round his throat so tightly as almost to deprive him of breath, and threaten him with apoplexy; he had lace, also, at his wrists and bosom; gold clocks to his hose, and red heels to his shoes. “How did you become a vampire, then?” He asked.
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