The aunt rushed over to her nephew, knelt and wrapped him in her arms. " "What do you think of my sketch, Jack?" said Hogarth, handing him the drawing. Every so often a wall of water, thin and jadecoloured, would rise up over the port bow, hesitate, and fall smacking amidships. “Have you dropped from the skies?” Sydney asked wonderingly. So strongly was he impressed with this idea, that grasping the iron bar with both hands, he dashed it furiously against the door, making the passage echo with the blows. "Here he is, waterman," exclaimed the benevolent carpenter.
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