CHAPTER V The only rule that I laid down to myself in traversing the forest was to take a direction as opposite as possible to that which led to the scene of my late imprisonment. After about two hours walking I arrived at the termination of this rudor scene and reached that part of the country which is enclosed and cultivated. Here I sat down by the side of a brook, and pulling out a crust of bread which I had brought away with me, rested and refreshed myself. While I continued in this place, I began to ruminate upon the plan I should lay down for my future proceedings, and my propensity now led me, as it had done in a former instance, to fix upon the capital which I believed, besides its other recommendations, would prove the safest place for concealment. During these thoughts I saw a couple of peasants passing at a small distance, and inquired of them respecting the London Road. By their description I understood that the most immediate way would be to repass a part of the forest, and that it would be necessary to approach considerably nearer to the county town than I was at the spot which I had present reached. I did not imagine this could be a circumstance of considerable importance. My disguise appeared to be a sufficient security against momentary danger, and I therefore took a path, though not the most direct one, which led towards the point they suggested. Some of the occurrences of the day are deserving to be mentioned. As I passed along a road which lay in my way for a few miles, I saw a carriage advancing in the opposite direction. I debated with myself for a moment whether I should pass it without notice, or should take this occasion by voice or gesture, of making an essay of my trade. This idle disquisition was however speedily driven from my mind, when I perceived that the carriage was Mr. Falklands. The suddenness of the encounter struck me with terror, though perhaps it would have been difficult for calm reflection to have discovered any considerable danger. I withdrew from the road and sulked behind a hedge till it should have completely gone by. I was too much occupied with my own feelings, to venture, to examine whether or know the terrible adversary of my peace were in the carriage. I persuaded myself that he was. I looked after the equipage and exclaimed, There you may see the luxurious accommodations and appendages of guilt, and here the forlornness that awaits upon innocence. I was to blame to imagine that my case was singular in that respect. I only mention it to show how the most trivial circumstance contributes to embitter the cup to the man of adversity. The thought, however, was a transient one. I had learned this lesson from my sufferings, not to indulge in the luxury of discontent. As my mind recovered its tranquility, I began to inquire whether the phenomenon I had just seen could have any relation to myself. But though my mind was extremely inquisitive and versatile in this respect, I could discover no sufficient ground upon which to build a judgment. At night I entered a little public house at the extremity of a village, and seating myself in a corner of the kitchen, asked for some bread and cheese. While I was sitting at my repast, three or four laborers came in for a little refreshment after their work. Ideas respecting the inequality of rank pervade every order in society, and as my appearance was meaner and more contemptible than theirs, I found it expedient to give way to these gentry of a village ale-house, and removed to an obscureer station. I was surprised, and not a little startled, to find them fall almost immediately into conversation about my history, whom, with a slight variation of circumstances, they styled the notorious house-breaker, Kit Williams. "'Damn, the fellow,' said one of them. One never hears of anything else. O my life I think he makes talk for the whole country.' "'That is very true,' replied another. I was at the market-town to-day to sell some oats for my master, and there was a hue and cry. Some of them thought they had got him, but it was a false alarm. "'That hundred guineas is a fine thing,' rejoined the first. I should be glad if so be as how it fell in my way.' "'For the matter of that,' said his companion, I should like a hundred guineas as well as another. But I cannot be of your mind for all that. I should never think money would do me any good that had been the means of bringing a Christian creature to the gallows. "'Pfft, that is all my granny. Some folks must be hanged to keep the wheels of our state-folks a-going. Besides, I could forgive the fellow all his other robberies, but he should have been so hardened as to break the house of his own master at last. That is too bad.' "'Lord, Lord,' replied the other. I see you know nothing of the matter. I will tell you how it was as I learned it at the town. I question whether he ever robbed his master at all. But, Hark you, you must know as how that square falcland was once tried for murder.' "'Yes, yes, we know that.' "'Well, he was as innocent as the child unborn. But I suppose is as how he is a little soft or so. And so, kit Williams, kit is a devilish cunning fellow. You may judge that from his breaking prison no less than five times. So I say he threatened to bring his master to trial at sizes all over again. And so frightened him, and got money from him at diverse times, till at last one squire forester, a relation of t'other, found it all out. And he made the hell of a rumpus, and sent away kit to prison in a twinkie, and I believe he would have been hanged. For when two squires lay their heads together, they do not much matter law, you know, or else they twist the law to their own ends. I cannot exactly say which, but it is much at one when the poor fellow's breath is out of his body. Though this story was very circumstantially told, and with a sufficient detail of particulars, it did not pass unquestioned. Each man maintained the justness of his own statement, and the dispute was long and obstinately pursued. Historians and commentators at length withdrew together. The terrors with which I was seized when this conversation began were extreme. I stole a side-long glance to one quarter and another to observe if any man's attention was turned upon me. I trembled as if in an ague fit, and at first felt continual impulses to quit the house, and take to my heels. I drew closer to my corner, held aside my head, and seemed from time to time to undergo a total revolution of the animal economy. At length the tide of ideas turned. Perceiving they paid no attention to me, the recollection of the full security my disguise afforded recurred strongly to my thoughts, and I began inwardly to exalt, though I did not venture to obtrude myself to examination. By degrees I began to be amused at the absurdity of their tales, and the variety of the falsehoods I heard asserted around me. My soul seemed to expand. I felt a pride in the self-possession and lightness of heart with which I could listen to the scene, and I determined to prolong and heighten the enjoyment. Accordingly, when they were withdrawn, I addressed myself to our hostess a buxom, bluff, good-humoured widow, and asked what sort of a man this kit Williams might be. She replied that, as she was informed, he was as handsome, likely a lad, as any in four counties round, and that she loved him for his cleverness, by which he outwitted all the keepers they could set over him, and made his way through stone walls as if they were so many cobwebs. I observed that the country was so thoroughly alarmed that I did not think it possible he should escape the pursuit that was set up after him. This idea excited her immediate indignation. She said she hoped he was far enough away by this time. But if not, she wished the curse of God might light on them that betrayed so noble a fellow to an ignominious end. Though she little thought that the person of whom she spoke was so near her, yet the sincere and generous warmth with which she interested herself in my behalf gave me considerable pleasure. With this sensation to sweeten the fatigues of the day, and the calamities of my situation, I retired from the kitchen to a neighboring barn, laid myself down upon some straw, and fell into a profound sleep. The next day, about noon, as I was pursuing my journey, I was overtaken by two men on horseback, who stopped me to inquire respecting a person that they supposed might have passed along that road. As they proceeded in their description, I perceived with astonishment and terror that I was myself the person to whom their questions related. They entered into a tolerably accurate detail of the various characteristics by which my person might best be distinguished. They said they had good reason to believe that I had been seen at a place in that county the very day before. While they were speaking, a third person, who had fallen behind, came up. And my alarm was greatly increased upon seeing that this person was the servant of Mr. Forester, who had visited me in prison about a fortnight before my escape. My best resource in this crisis was composure and apparent indifference. It was fortunate for me that my disguise was so complete that the eye of Mr. Falkland itself could scarcely have penetrated it. I had been aware for some time before that this was a refuge which events might make necessary, and had endeavored to arrange and methodize my ideas upon the subject. From my youth I had possessed a considerable facility in the art of imitation, and when I quitted my retreat in the habitation of Mr. Raymond, I adopted, along with my beggars attire, a peculiar slouching and clownish gait to be used whenever there should appear the least chance of my being observed, together with an Irish brogue which I had had an opportunity of studying in my prison. Such are the miserable expedience and so great the studied artifice, which man, who never deserves the name of manhood but in proportion as he is erect and independent, may find it necessary to employ for the purpose of eluding the inexorable animosity and unfeeling tyranny of his fellow man. I had made use of this brogue, though I have not thought it necessary to write it down in my narrative, in the conversation of the village ale-house. Mr. Forrester's servant, as he came up, observed that his companions were engaged in conversation with me, and, guessing at the subject, asked whether they had gained any intelligence. He added to the information at which they had already hinted that a resolution was taken to spare neither diligence nor expense for my discovery and apprehension, and that they were satisfied if I were above ground and in the kingdom it would be impossible for me to escape them. Every new incident that had occurred to me tended to impress upon my mind the extreme danger to which I was exposed. I could almost have imagined that I was the sole subject of general attention, and that the whole world was in arms to exterminate me. The very idea tingled through every fibre of my frame. But, terrible as it appeared to my imagination, it did but give new energy to my purpose, and I determined that I would not voluntarily resign the field. That is, literally speaking, my neck to the cord of the executioner, notwithstanding the greatest superiority in my assailants. Not the incidents which had befallen me, though they did not change my purpose, induced me to examine over again the means by which it might be affected. The consequence of this revisal was to determine me to bend my course to the nearest seaport on the west side of the island, and transport myself to Ireland. I cannot now tell what it was that inclined me to prefer this scheme to that which I had originally formed. Perhaps the latter, which had been for some time present to my imagination, for that reason appeared the more obvious of the two. And I found an appearance of complexity which the mind did not stay to explain in substituting the other in its stead. I arrived without further impediment at the place from which I intended to sail, inquired for a vessel which I found ready to put to sea in a few hours, and agreed with the captain for my passage. Ireland had, to me, the disadvantage of being a dependency of the British government, and therefore a place of less security than most other countries which are divided from it by the ocean. To judge from the diligence with which I seemed to be pursued in England, it was not improbable that the zeal of my persecutors might follow me to the other side of the channel. It was, however, sufficiently agreeable to my mind that I was upon the point of being removed one step further from the danger which was so grievous to my imagination. Could there be any peril in the short interval that was to elapse before the vessel was to weigh anchor and quit the English short? Probably not. A very short time had intervened between my determination for the sea and my arrival at this place, and if any new alarm had been given to my persecutors it proceeded from the old woman a very few days before. I hoped I had anticipated their diligence. Meanwhile, that I might neglect no reasonable precaution, I went instantly on board, resolved that I would not unnecessarily, by walking the streets of the town, expose myself to any untoward accident. This was the first time I had upon any occasion taken leave of my native country. CHAPTER VI The time was now nearly elapsed that was prescribed for our stay, and orders for weighing anchor were every moment expected when we were hailed by a boat from the shore, with two other men in it besides those that rode. They entered our vessel in an instant. They were officers of justice. The passengers, five persons besides myself, were ordered upon deck for examination. I was inexpressibly disturbed at the occurrence of such a circumstance in so unseasonable a moment. I took it for granted that it was of me they were in search. Was it possible that by any unaccountable accident they should have got an intimation of my disguise? It was infinitely more distressing to encounter them upon this narrow stage and under these pointed circumstances than as I had before encountered my pursuers under the appearance of an indifferent person. My recollection, however, did not forsake me. I confided in my conscious disguise and my Irish brogue as a rock of dependence against all accidents. No sooner did we appear upon deck then to my great consternation I could observe the attention of our guests principally turned upon me. They asked a few frivolous questions of such of my fellow passengers as happened to be nearest to them, and then, turning to me, inquired my name, who I was, whence I came, and what had brought me there? I had scarcely opened my mouth to reply, when, with one consent, they laid hold of me, said I was their prisoner, and declared that my accent, together with the correspondence of my person, would be sufficient to convict me before any court in England. I was hurried out of the vessel into the boat in which they came, and seated between them, as if by way of precaution, I should spring overboard, and by any means escape them. I now took it for granted that I was once more in the power of Mr. Falkland, and the idea was insupportably mortifying and oppressive to my imagination. Escape from his pursuit, freedom from his tyranny, were objects upon which my whole soul was bent. Could no human ingenuity and exertion affect them? Did his power reach through all space and his eye penetrate every concealment? Was he like that mysterious being, to protect us from whose fierce revenge, mountains and hills, we are told, might fall on us in vain? No idea is more heart-sickening and tremendous than this. But in my case it was not a subject of reasoning or of faith. I could derive no comfort either directly from the unbelief which, upon religious subjects, some men avowed their own minds, or secretly from the remoteness and incomprehensibility of the conception. It was an affair of sense. I felt the fangs of the tiger striking deep into my heart. But though this impression was at first exceedingly strong and accompanied with its usual attendance of dejection and pusillanimity, my mind soon began, as it were mechanically, to turn upon the consideration of the distance between this seaport and my county prison, and the various opportunities of escape that might offer themselves in the interval. My first duty was to avoid betraying myself. More than it might afterwards appear I was betrayed already. It was possible that, though apprehended, my apprehension might have been determined on upon some slight score, and that, by my dexterity, I might render my dismission as sudden as my arrest had been. It was even possible that I had been seized through a mistake, and that the present measure might have no connection with Mr. Falkland's affair. Upon every supposition it was my business to gain information. In my passage from the ship to the town I did not utter a word. My conductors commented on my sulkiness, but remarked that it would avail me nothing. I should infallibly swing, as it was never known that anybody got off who was tried for robbing his majesty's mail. It is difficult to conceive the lightness of heart which was communicated to me by these words. I persisted, however, in the silence I had meditated. From the rest of their conversation, which was sufficiently voluble, I learned that the mail from Edinburgh to London had been robbed about ten days before by two Irishmen, that one of them was already secured, and that I was taken up upon suspicion of being the other. They had a description of his person, which, though as I afterwards found, it disagreed from mine in several material articles, appeared to them to tally to the minutest titl. The intelligence that the whole proceeding against me was founded in a mistake took an oppressive load from my mind. I believed that I should immediately be able to establish my innocence to the satisfaction of any magistrate in the kingdom, and though crossed in my plans, and thwarted in my design of quitting the island, even after I was already at sea, this was but a trifling inconvenience compared with what I had but too much reason to fear. As soon as we came ashore I was conducted to the house of a justice of peace, a man who had formerly been the captain of a collier, but who, having been successful in the world, had quitted this wandering life, and for some years had had the honour to represent his majesty's person. We were detained for some time in a sort of anti-room, waiting his reverence's leisure. The persons by whom I had been taken up were experienced in their trade, and insisted upon employing this interval in searching me, in presence of two of his worship's servants. They found upon me fifteen guineas and some silver.  They took up the detached parcels of my miserable attire as I threw it from me, and felt them one by one to discover whether the articles of which they were in search might by any device be sewn up in them. To all this I submitted without murmuring. It might probably come to the same thing at last, and summary justice was sufficiently coincided with my views, my principal object being to get as soon as possible out of the clutches of the respectable persons who now had me in custody. This operation was scarcely completed before we were directed to be ushered into his worship's apartment. My accusers opened the charge and told him they had been ordered to this town, upon an intimation that one of the persons who robbed the Edinburgh Mail was to be found here, and that they had taken me on board a vessel which was by this time under sail for Ireland. Well, says his worship, that is your story. Now let us hear what account the gentleman gives of himself. What is your name, ha, sir? And from what part of Tipperary are you pleased to come? I had already taken my determination upon this article, and the moment I learned the particulars of the charge against me resolved, for the present at least, to lay aside my Irish accent and speak my native tongue. This I had done in the very few words I had spoken to my conductors in the anti-room. They started at the metamorphosis, but they had gone too far for it to be possible they should retract, in consistency with their honour. I now told the justice that I was no Irishman, nor had ever been in that country. I was a native of England. This occasioned a consulting of the deposition in which my person was supposed to be described, and which my conductors had brought with them for their direction. To be sure, that required that the offender should be an Irishman. Observing his worship hesitated, I thought this was the time to push the matter a little further. I referred to the paper, and showed that the description neither tallied as to height nor complexion. But then it did as to years, and the colour of the hair. And it was not this gentleman's habit, as he informed me, to squabble about trifles, or to let a man's neck out of the halter for a pretended flaw of a few inches in his stature. If a man were too short, he said, there was no remedy like a little stretching. The miscalculation in my case happened to be the opposite way, but his reverence did not think proper to lose his jest. Upon the whole he was somewhat at a loss how to proceed. My conductors observed this, and began to tremble for the reward which two hours ago they thought as good as in their own pocket. To retain me in custody they judged to be a safe speculation. If it turned out a mistake at last, they felt little apprehension of a suit for false imprisonment from a poor man, a cutrid as I was, in rags. They therefore urged his worship to comply with their views. They told him that to be sure the evidence against me did not prove so strong as for their part they heartily wished it had, but that there were a number of suspicious circumstances respecting me. When I was brought up to them upon the deck of the vessel, I spoke as fine an Irish brogue as one shall hear in a summer's day, and now, all at once, there was not the least particle of it left. In searching me they had found upon me fifteen guineas. How should a poor beggar lad, such as I appeared, come honestly by fifteen guineas? Besides, when they had stripped me naked, though my dress was so shabby, my skin had all the sleekness of a gentleman. In fine for what purpose could a poor beggar, who had never been in Ireland in his life, want to transport himself to that country? It was as clear as the sun that I was no better than I should be. This reasoning, together with some significant winks and gestures between the justice and the plaintiffs, brought him over to their way of thinking. He said, I must go to Warwick, where it seems the other robber was at present in custody, and be confronted with him, and if then everything appeared fair and satisfactory I should be discharged. No intelligence could be more terrible than that which was contained in these words. That I, who had found the whole country in arms against me, who was exposed to a pursuit so peculiarly vigilant and penetrating, should now be dragged to the very centre of the kingdom, without power of accommodating myself to circumstances, and under the immediate custody of the officers of justice, seemed to my ears almost the same thing as if he had pronounced upon me a sentence of death. I strenuously urged the injustice of this proceeding. I observed to the magistrate that it was impossible I should be the person at whom the description pointed. It required an Irishman. I was no Irishman. It described a person shorter than I, a circumstance of all others the least capable of being counterfeited. There was not the slightest reason for detaining me in custody. I had been already disappointed of my voyage, and lost the money I had paid down through the officiousness of these gentlemen in apprehending me. I assured his worship that every delay under my circumstances was of the utmost importance to me. It was impossible to devise a greater injury to be inflicted on me, than the proposal that instead of being permitted to proceed upon my voyage I should be sent under arrest into the heart of the kingdom. My remonstrances were vain. The justice was by no means inclined to digest the being expostulated with, in this manner, by a person in the habiliments of a beggar. In the midst of my address he would have silenced me for my impertinence, but that I spoke with an earnestness with which he was wholly unable to contend. When I had finished he told me it was all to no purpose, and that it might have been better for me if I had shown myself less insolent. It was clear that I was a vagabond and a suspicious person. The more earnest I showed myself to get off, the more reason there was he should keep me fast. Perhaps, after all, I should turn out to be the felon in question. But, if I was not that, he had no doubt I was worse, a poacher, or for what he knew a murderer. He had a kind of a notion that he had seen my face before about some such affair. Out of all doubt I was an old offender. He had it in his choice to send me to hard labour as a vagrant, upon the strength of my appearance and the contradictions in my story, or to order me to warwick, and out of the spontaneous goodness of his disposition he chose the milder side of the alternative. He could assure me I should not slip through his fingers. It was of more benefit to his majesty's government to hang one such fellow as he suspected me to be, than out of mistake and tenderness to concern oneself for the good of all the beggars in the nation. Finding it was impossible to work in the way I desired, on a man so fully impressed with his own dignity and importance and my utter insignificance, I claimed that at least the money taken from my person should be restored to me. This was granted. His worship perhaps suspected that he had stretched a point in what he had already done, and was therefore the less unwilling to relax in this incidental circumstance. My conductors did not oppose themselves to this indulgence, for a reason that will appear in the sequel. The justice, however, enlarged upon his clemency in this proceeding. He did not know whether he was not exceeding the spirit of his commission in complying with my demand. So much money in my possession could not be honestly come by. But it was his temper to soften as far as could be done with propriety, the strict letter of the law. There were cogent reasons why the gentleman who had originally taken me into custody chose that I should continue in their custody when my examination was over. Every man is, in his different mode, susceptible to a sense of honour, and they did not choose to encounter the disgrace that would accrue to them if justice had been done. Every man is, in some degree, influenced by the love of power, and they were willing, I should owe any benefit I received, to their sovereign grace and benignity, and not to the mere reason of the case. It was not, however, an unsubstantial honour and barren power that formed the objects of their pursuit. No, their views were deeper than that. In a word, though they chose that I should retire from the seat of justice as I had come before it, a prisoner, yet the tenor of my examination had obliged to them, in spite of themselves, to suspect that I was innocent of the charge alleged against me. Apprehensive, therefore, that the hundred guineas which had been offered as a reward for taking the robber was completely out of the question in the present business, they were contented to strike at smaller game. Having conducted me to an inn, and given directions respecting a vehicle for the journey, they took me aside, while one of them addressed me in the following manner. You see, my lad, how the case stands. Hey, for Warwick is the word, and when we are got there, what may happen then I will not pretend for to say. Whether you are innocent or no is no business of mine, but you are not such a chicken as to suppose, if so be as you are innocent, that that will make your game altogether sure.  I scorned cross any man in his concerns if I can help it. If, therefore, you will give us them there fifteen shiners, why snug is the word? They are of no use to you, a beggar you know is always at home. For the matter of that we could have had them in the way of business, as you saw at the justices. But I am a man of principle. I loves to do things aboveboard, and scorns to extort a shilling from any man. He who is tinctured with principles of moral discrimination is apt upon occasion to be run away with by his feelings in that respect, and to forget the immediate interest of the moment. I confessed that the first sentiment excited in my mind by this overture was that of indignation. I was irresistibly impelled to give utterance to this feeling, and postponed for a moment the consideration of the future. I replied with the severity which so base a proceeding appeared to deserve. My bare leaders were considerably surprised with my firmness, but seemed to think it beneath them to contest with me the principles I delivered. He who had made the overture contented himself with replying. Well, well, my lad, do as you will. You are not the first man that has been hanged rather than part with a few guineas. His words did not pass unheeded by me. They were strikingly applicable to my situation, and I was determined not to suffer the occasion to escape me unimproved. The pride of these gentlemen, however, was too great to admit of further parley for the present. They left me abruptly, having first ordered an old man, the father of the landlady, to stay in the room with me while they were absent. The old man they ordered, for security, to lock the door and put the key in his pocket. At the same time mentioning below stairs the station in which they had left me, that the people of the house might have an eye upon what went forward and not suffer me to escape. What was the intention of this manoeuvre I am unable certainly to pronounce? Probably it was a sort of compromise between their pride and their avarice, being desirous, for some reason or other, to drop me as soon as convenient, and therefore determining to wait the result of my private meditations on the proposal they had made. CHAPTER VII They were no sooner withdrawn than I cast my eye upon the old man and found something extremely venerable and interesting in his appearance. His form was above the middle size. It indicated that his strength had been once considerable, nor was it at this time by any means annihilated. His hair was in considerable quantity and was as white as the drifted snow. His complexion was healthful and ruddy, at the same time that his face was furrowed with wrinkles. In his eye there was remarkable vivacity, and his whole countenance was strongly expressive of good nature. The boorishness of his rank in society was lost in the cultivation his mind had derived from habits of sensibility and benevolence. The view of his figure immediately introduced a train of ideas into my mind, respecting the advantage to be drawn from the presence of such a person. The attempt to take any step without his consent was hopeless. For, though I should succeed with regard to him, he could easily give the alarm to other persons, who would, no doubt, be within call. Add to which I could scarcely have prevailed on myself to offer any offence to a person whose first appearance so strongly engaged my affection and esteem. In reality my thoughts were turned into a different channel. I was impressed with an ardent wish to be able to call this man my benefactor. Pursued by a train of ill fortune I could no longer consider myself as a member of society. I was a solitary being, cut off from the expectation of sympathy, kindness, and the goodwill of mankind. I was strongly impelled by the situation in which the present moment placed me, to indulge in a luxury which my destiny seemed to have denied. I could not conceive the smallest comparison between the idea of deriving my liberty from the spontaneous kindness of a worthy and excellent mind, and that of being indebted for it to the selfishness and baseness of the worst members of society. It was thus that I allowed myself in the wantonness of refinement, even in the midst of destruction. Guided by these sentiments I requested his attention to the circumstances by which I had been brought into my present situation. He immediately signified his ascend, and said he would cheerfully listen to anything I thought proper to communicate. I told him the persons who had just left me in charge with him had come to this town for the purpose of apprehending some person who had been guilty of robbing the mail. That they had chosen to take me up under this warrant, and had conducted me before justice of the peace. That they had soon detected their mistake, the person in question being an Irishman and differing from me both in country and stature. But that by collusion between them and the justice, they were permitted to retain me in custody, and pretended to undertake to conduct me to Warwick, to confront me with my accomplice. That in searching me at the justices, they had found some of money in my possession which excited their cupidity, and that they had just been proposing to me to give me my liberty upon condition of my surrendering this sum into their hands. Under these circumstances I requested him to consider whether he would wish to render himself the instrument of their extortion. I put myself into his hands and solemnly averred the truth of the facts I had just stated. If he would assist me in my escape it would have no other effect than to disappoint the base passions of my conductors. I would, upon no account, expose him to any real inconvenience. But I was well assured that the same generosity that should prompt him to a good deed would enable him effectually to vindicate it when done, and that those who detained me, when they had lost sight of their prey, would feel covered with confusion and not dared to take another step in the affair. The old man listened to what I related with curiosity and interest. He said that he had always felt an abhorrence to the sort of people who had me in their hands. That he had an aversion to the task they had just imposed upon him, but that he could not refuse some little disagreeable offices to oblige his daughter and son-in-law. He had no doubt from my countenance and manner of the truth of what I had asserted to him. It was an extraordinary request I had made, and he did not know what had induced me to think him the sort of person to whom with any prospect of success it might be made. In reality, however, his habits of thinking were uncommon, and he felt more than half inclined to act as I desired. One thing at least he would ask of me in return, which was to be faithfully informed in some degree respecting the person he was desired to oblige. What was my name? The question came upon me unprepared, but whatever might be the consequence I could not bear to deceive the person by whom it was put, and in the circumstances under which it was put. The practice of perpetual falsehood is too painful a task. I replied that my name was Williams. He paused. His eye was fixed upon me. I saw his complexion alter at the repetition of that word. He proceeded with visible anxiety. My Christian name? Caleb. Good God! It could not be! He conjured me by everything that was sacred to answer him faithfully to one question more. I was not. No, it was impossible. The person who had formerly lived servant with Mr. Faulkland of—blank. I told him that whatever might be the meaning of his question I would answer him truly. I was the individual he mentioned. As I uttered these words the old man roves from his seat. He was sorry that fortune had been so unpropitious to him, as for him ever to have set eyes upon me. I was a monster with whom the very earth groaned. I entreated that he would suffer me to explain this new misapprehension, as he had done in the former instance. I had no doubt that I should do it equally to his satisfaction. No, no, no, he would upon no consideration admit that his ears should suffer such contamination. This case and the other were very different. There was no criminal upon the face of the earth, no murderer half so detestable as the person who could prevail upon himself to utter the charges I had done by way of recrimination against so generous a master. The old man was in a perfect agony with the recollection. At length he calmed himself enough to say he should never cease to grieve that he had held a moment's parley with me. He did not know what was the conduct severe justice required of him. But since he had come into the knowledge of who I was only by my own confession, it was irreconcilably repugnant to his feelings to make use of that knowledge to my injury. Here, therefore, all relation between us ceased, as indeed it would be an abuse of words to consider me in the light of a human creature. He would do me no mischief, but on the other hand, he would not, for the world, be in any way assisting and abetting me. I was inexpressibly affected at the abhorrence this good and benevolent creature expressed against me. I could not be silent. I endeavored once and again to prevail upon him to hear me. But his determination was unalterable. Our contest lasted for some time, and he at length terminated it by ringing the bell and calling up the waiter. A very little while after, my conductors entered, and the other persons withdrew. It was a part of the singularity of my fate that had hurried me from one species of anxiety and distress to another, too rapidly to suffer any one of them to sink deeply into my mind. I am apt to believe, in the retrospect, that half the calamities I was destined to endure would infallibly have overwhelmed and destroyed me. But, as it was, I had no leisure to chew the cud upon misfortunes, as they befell me, but was under the necessity of forgetting them, to guard against peril that the next moment seemed ready to crush me. The behaviour of this incomparable and amiable old man cut me to the heart. It was a dreadful prognostic for all my future life. But as I have just observed, my conductors entered, and another subject called imperiously upon my attention. I could have been content, mortified as I was at this instant, to have been shut up in some impenetrable solitude and to have wrapped myself in inconsolable misery. But the grief I endured had not such power over me as that I could be content to risk the being led to the gallows. The love of life, and still more a hatred against oppression, steeled my heart against that species of inertness. In the scene that had just passed I had indulged, as I have said, in a wantonness and luxury of refinement. It was time that indulgence should be brought to a period. It was dangerous to trifle any more upon the brink of fate, and penetrated as I was with sadness by the result of my last attempt. I was little disposed to unnecessary circumambulation. I was exactly in the temper in which the gentleman who had me in their power would have desired to find me. Accordingly we entered immediately upon business, and after some chaffering they agreed to accept eleven guineas as the price of my freedom. To preserve, however, the charriness of their reputation they insisted upon conducting me with them for a few miles on the outside of a stagecoach. They then pretended that the road they had to travel lay in a cross-country direction, and having quitted the vehicle they suffered me almost as soon as it was out of sight to shake off this troublesome association and follow my own inclinations. It may be worth remarking, by the way, that these fellows outwitted themselves at their own trade. They had laid hold of me at first under the idea of a prize of a hundred guineas. They had since been glad to accept a composition of eleven, but if they had retained me a little longer in their possession they would have found the possibility of acquiring the sum that had originally excited their pursuit upon a different score. The mischances that had befallen me in my late attempt to escape from my pursuers by sea deterred me from the thought of repeating that experiment. I therefore once more returned to the suggestion of hiding myself, at least for the present, amongst the crowds of the metropolis. Meanwhile I by no means thought proper to venture by the direct route, and the less so as that was the course which would be steered by my late conductors, but took my road along the borders of Wales. The only incident worth relating in this place occurred in an attempt to cross the Severn in a particular point. The mode was by a ferry, but by some strange inadvertence I lost my way so completely as to be wholly unable that night to reach the ferry and arrive at the town which I had destined for my repose. This may seem a petty disappointment in the midst of the overwhelming considerations that might have been expected to engross every thought of my mind. Yet it was borne by me with singular impatience. I was that day uncommonly fatigued. Previously to the time that I mistook, or at least was aware of the mistake of the road, the sky had become black and lowering, and soon after the clouds burst down in sheets of rain. I was in the midst of a heath without a tree or covering of any sort to shelter me. I was thoroughly drenched in a moment. I pushed on with a sort of sullen determination. By and by the rain gave place to a storm of hail. The hailstones were large and frequent. I was ill-defended by the miserable covering I wore, and they seemed to cut me in a thousand directions. The hailstorm subsided and was again succeeded by a heavy rain. By this time it was that I had perceived I was wholly out of my road. I could discover neither man nor beast nor habitation of any kind. I walked on, measuring at every turn the path it would be proper to pursue, but in no instance finding a sufficient reason to reject one or prefer another. My mind was bursting with depression and anguish. I muttered implications and murmuring as I passed along.  After wandering without any certain direction for two hours, I was overtaken by the night. The scene was nearly pathless, and it was vain to think of proceeding any farther. Here I was, without comfort, without shelter, and without food. There was not a particle of my covering that was not as wet as if it had been fished from the bottom of the ocean. My teeth chattered. I trembled in every limb. My heart burned with universal fury. At one moment I stumbled and fell over some unseen obstacle. At another I was turned back by an impediment I could not overcome. There was no strict connection between these casual inconveniences and the persecution under which I labored, but my distempered thoughts confounded them together. I cursed the whole system of human existence. I said, Here I am, an outcast, destined to perish with hunger and cold. All men desert me. All men hate me.  Why do I consent to live any longer? Why do I seek to drag on an existence which, if protracted, must be protracted amidst the layers of these human tigers? This paroxysm at length exhausted itself. Presently after I discovered a solitary shed which I was contented to resort to for shelter. In a corner of the shed I found some clean straw. I threw off my rags, placed them in a situation where they would best be dried, and buried myself amidst this friendly warmth. Here I forgot by degrees the anguish that had wracked me. A wholesome shed and fresh straw may seem but scanty benefits, but they offered themselves when least expected, and my whole heart was lightened by the encounter. Through fatigue of mind and body it happened in this instance, though in general my repose was remarkably short, that I slept till almost noon of the next day. When I rose I found that I was at no great distance from the ferry which I crossed, and entered the town where I intended to have rested the preceding night. It was market-day. As I passed near the cross I observed two people look at me with great earnestness, after which one of them exclaimed, I will be damned if I do not think that this is the very fellow those men were inquiring for, who set off an hour ago by the coach for, blank! I was extremely alarmed at this information and quickening my pace turned sharp down a narrow lane. The moment I was out of sight I ran with all the speed I could exert and did not think myself safe till I was several miles distant from the place where this information had reached my ears. I have always believed that the men to whom it related were the very persons who had apprehended me on board the ship in which I had embarked for Ireland, that by some accident they had met with the description of my person as published on the part of Mr. Falkland, and that, from putting together the circumstances, they had been led to believe that this was the very individual who had lately been in their custody. Indeed it was a piece of infatuation in me, for which I am now unable to account, that, after the various indications which had occurred in that affair, proving to them that I was a man in critical and peculiar circumstances, I should have persisted in wearing the same disguise without the smallest alteration. My escape, in the present case, was eminently fortunate. If I had not lost my way in consequence of the hailstorm on the preceding night, or if I had not so greatly overslept myself this very morning, I must almost infallibly have fallen into the hands of these infernal blood-hunters. The town they had chosen for their next stage, the name of which I had thus caught in the marketplace, was the town to which, but for this intimation, I should have immediately proceeded. As it was, I determined to take a road as wide of it as possible. In the first place to which I came, in which it was practicable to do so, I bought a great coat, which I drew over my beggar's weeds, and a better hat. The hat I slouched over my face and covered one of my eyes with a green silk shade. The handkerchief, which I had hitherto worn about my head, I now tied about the lower part of my visage so as to cover my mouth. By degrees I discarded every part of my former dress, and wore for my upper garment a kind of Carmen's frock, which, being of the better sort, made me look like the son of a reputable farmer of the lower class. Thus equipped I proceeded on my journey, and after a thousand alarms, precautions, and circuitous deviations from the direct path, arrived safely in London. CHAPTER VIII. Here then was the termination of an immense series of labours upon which no man could have looked back without astonishment, or forward without a sentiment bordering on despair. It was at a price which defies estimation that I had purchased this resting-place. Whether we consider the efforts it had cost me to escape from the walls of my prison, or the dangers and anxieties to which I had been a prey, from that hour to the present. But why do I call the point at which I was now arrived at a resting-place? Alas, it was diametrically the reverse. It was my first and immediate business to review all the projects of disguise I had hitherto conceived, to derive every improvement I could invent from the practice to which I had been subjected, and to manufacture a veil of concealment more impenetrable than ever. This was an effort to which I could see no end. In ordinary cases the hue and cry after a supposed offender is a matter of temporary operation, but ordinary cases formed no standard for the colossal intelligence of Mr. Falkland. For the same reason, London, which appears an inexhaustible reservoir of concealment to the majority of mankind, brought no such consolatory sentiment to my mind. Whether life were worth accepting on such terms I cannot pronounce. I only know that I persisted in this exertion of my faculties, through a sort of parental love that men are accustomed to entertain for their intellectual offspring. The more thought I had expended in rearing it to its present perfection, the less did I find myself disposed to abandon it. Another motive, not less strenuously exciting me to perseverance, was the ever-growing repugnance I felt to injustice and arbitrary power. The first evening of my arrival in town I slept at an obscure inn in the borough of Southark, choosing that side of the metropolis on account of its lying entirely wide of the part of England from which I came. I entered the inn in the evening in my countryman's frock, and having paid for my lodging before I went to bed, equipped myself next morning as differently as my wardrobe would allow, and left the house before day. The frock I made up into a small packet, and having carried it to a distance as great as I thought necessary, I dropped it in the corner of an alley through which I passed. My next care was to furnish myself with another suit of apparel, totally different from any to which I had hitherto had recourse. The exterior which I was now induced to assume was that of a Jew. One of the gang of thieves upon blank forest had been of that race, and by the talent of Mimikrai, which I have already stated myself to possess, I could copy their pronunciation of the English language sufficiently to answer such occasions as were likely to present themselves. One of the preliminaries I adopted was to repair to a quarter of the town in which great numbers of this people reside, and study their complexion and countenance. Having made such provision as my prudence suggested to me, I retired for that night to an inn in the midway between mile-end and whopping. Here I accoutered myself in my new habiliments, and having employed the same precautions as before, retired from my lodging at a time least exposed to observation. It is unnecessary to describe the particulars of my new equipage. Suffice it to say that one of my cares was to discolor my complexion and give it the done and sallow hue which is, in most instances, characteristic of the tribe to which I assumed to belong, and that when my metamorphosis was finished, I could not, upon the strictest examination, conceive that any one could have traced out the person of Caleb Williams in this new disguise. Thus far advanced in the execution of my project, I deemed it advisable to procure a lodging and change my late wandering life for a stationary one. In this lodging I constantly secluded myself from the rising to the setting of the sun. The periods I allowed for exercise and air were few, and those few by night. I was even cautious of so much as approaching the window of my apartment, though upon the attic story, a principle I laid down to myself was, not wantonly and unnecessarily, to expose myself to risk, however slight that risk might appear. Here let me pause for a moment to bring before the reader in the way in which it was impressed upon my mind the nature of my situation. I was born free. I was born healthy, vigorous and active, complete in all the lineaments and members of a human body. I was not born indeed to the possession of hereditary wealth, but I had a better inheritance, an enterprising mind, an inquisitive spirit, a liberal ambition. In a word I accepted my lot with willingness and content. I did not fear but I should make my cause good in the lists of existence. I was satisfied to aim at small things. I was pleased to play at first for a slender stake. I was more willing to grow than to descend in my individual significance. The free spirit and the firm heart with which I commenced, one circumstance was sufficient to blast.  I had fallen unwarily into the hands of a person who held it as his fondest wish to oppress and destroy me. I found myself subjected, undeservedly on my part, to all the disadvantages which mankind, if they reflected upon them, would hesitate to impose on acknowledged guilt. In every human countenance I feared to find the countenance of an enemy. I shrunk from the vigilance of every human eye. I dared not open my heart to the best affections of our nature.  I dared not look for the consolations of friendship. But instead of seeking to identify myself with the joys and sorrows of others, and exchanging the delicious gifts of confidence and sympathy, was compelled to center my thoughts and my vigilance in myself.  I had a counterfeit character to support. I had counterfeit manners to assume. My gait, my gestures, my accents, were all of them to be studied. I was not free to indulge, no, not one, honest sally of the soul. Attended with these disadvantages, I was to procure myself a subsistence, a subsistence to be acquired with infinite precautions, and to be consumed without the hope of enjoyment. This, even this, I was determined to endure, to put my shoulder to the burden, and support it with unshrinking firmness. Let it not, however, be supposed that I endured it without repining and abhorrence. My time was divided between the terrors of an animal that skulks from its pursuers, the obstinacy of unshrinking firmness, and that elastic revulsion that from time to time seems to shrivel the very hearts of the miserable. If at some moments I fiercely defied all the rigors of my fate, at others, and those of frequent recurrence, I sunk into helpless despondence. I looked forward without hope through the series of my existence. Tears of anguish rushed from my eyes, my courage became extinct, and I cursed the conscious life that was reproduced with every returning day. Why, upon such occasions I was accustomed to exclaim, why am I overwhelmed with the load of existence? Why are all these engines at work to torment me? I am no murderer, yet, if I were, what worse could I be fated to suffer? How vile, squalid, and disgraceful is the state to which I am condemned. This is not my place in the role of existence, the place for which either my temper or my understanding has prepared me. To what purpose serve the restless aspirations of my soul, but to make me, like a frighted bird, beat myself in vain against the enclosure of my cage? Nature, barbarous nature, to me thou hast proved indeed the worst of stepmothers, endowed me with wishes insatiate, and sunk me in never-ending degradation. I might have thought myself more secure if I had been in possession of money upon which to subsist. The necessity of earning for myself the means of existence evidently tended to thwart the plan of secrecy to which I was condemned. Whatever labour I adopted, or deemed myself qualified to discharge, it was first to be considered how I was to be provided with employment, and where I was to find an employer or purchaser for my commodities. In the meantime I had no alternative. The little money with which I had escaped from the blood-hunters was almost expended. After the minutest consideration I was able to bestow upon this question. I determined that literature should be the field of my first experiment. I had read of money being acquired in this way and of prices given by the speculators in this sort of wear to its proper manufacturers. My qualifications I esteemed at a slender valuation. I was not without a conviction that experience and practice must pave the way to excellent production. But though of these I was utterly destitute. My propensities had always led me in this direction, and my early thirst of knowledge had conducted me to a more intimate acquaintance with books than could perhaps have been expected under my circumstances. If my literary pretensions were slight, the demand I intended to make upon them was not great. All I asked was a subsistence, and I was persuaded few persons could subsist upon slenderer means than myself. I also considered this as a temporary expedient, and hoped that accident or time might hereafter place me in a less precarious situation. The reasons that principally determined my choice were that this employment called upon me for the least preparation, and could, as I thought, be exercised with least observation. There was a solitary woman of middle age who tenanted a chamber in this house, upon the same floor with my own. I had no sooner determined upon the destination of my industry, than I cast my eye upon her as the possible instrument for disposing of my productions. Excluded, as I was from all intercourse with my species in general, I found pleasure in the occasional exchange of a few words with this inoffensive and good-humoured creature, who was already of an age to preclude scandal. She lived upon a very small annuity, allowed her by a distant relation, a woman of quality, who, possessed of thousands herself, had no other anxiety with respect to this person than that she should not contaminate her alliance by the exertion of honest industry. This humble creature was of a uniformly cheerful and active disposition, unacquainted alike with the cares of wealth and the pressure of misfortune. Though her pretensions were small and her information slender, she was by no means deficient in penetration. She remarked the faults and follies of mankind with no contemptible discernment. But her temper was of so mild and forgiving a cast, as would have induced most persons to believe that she perceived nothing of the matter. Her heart overflowed with the milk of kindness. She was sincere and ardent in her attachments, and never did she omit a service which she perceived herself able to render to a human being. Had it not been for these qualifications of temper, I should probably have found that my appearance, that of a deserted solitary lad of Jewish extraction, effectually precluded my demands upon her kindness. But I speedily perceived, from her manner of receiving and returning civilities of an indifferent sort, that her heart was too noble to have its effusions checked by any base and unworthy considerations. Encouraged by these preliminaries, I determined to select her as my agent. I found her willing and alert in the business I proposed to her. That I might anticipate occasions of suspicion, I frankly told her that for reasons which I wished to be excused from relating, but which, if related, I was sure would not deprive me of her good opinion, I found it necessary, for the present, to keep myself private. With this statement she readily acquiesced, and told me that she had no desire for any further information than I found it expedient to give. My first productions were of the poetical kind. After having finished two or three, I directed this generous person to take them to the office of a newspaper. But they were rejected with contempt by the Aristarchus of that place, who having bestowed on them a superficial glance, told her that such matters were not in his way. I cannot help mentioning in this place that the countenance of Mrs. Marnay—this was the name of my ambassadors—was in all cases a perfect indication of her success, and rendered explanation by words wholly unnecessary. She interested herself so unreservedly in what she undertook that she felt either miscarriage or good fortune much more exquisitely than I did. I had an unhesitating confidence in my own resources, and occupied, as I was in meditations more interesting and more painful, I regarded these matters as altogether trivial. I quietly took the pieces back and laid them upon my table. Upon revisal I altered and transcribed one of them, and joining it with two others, dispatched them together to the editor of a magazine. He desired they might be left with him till the day after to-morrow. When that day came, he told my friend they should be inserted. But Mrs. Marnay asking, respecting the price, he replied it was their constant rule to give nothing for poetical compositions—the letterbox being always full of writings of that sort. But if the gentleman would try his hand in prose, a short essay or a tale, he would see what he could do for him. With the requisition of my literary dictator I immediately complied. I attempted a paper in the style of Addison's spectators, which was accepted. In a short time I was upon an established footing in this quarter. I, however, distrusted my resources in the way of moral disquisition, and soon turned my thoughts to his other suggestion—a tale. His demands upon me were now frequent, and to facilitate my labours I bethought myself of the resource of translation. I had scarcely any convenience with respect to the procuring of books. But as my memory was retentive I frequently translated or modelled my narrative upon a reading of some years before. By a fatality, for which I did not exactly know how to account, my thoughts frequently led me to the histories of celebrated robbers, and I related, from time to time, incidents and anecdotes of cartouche, Goosman Delfarch, and other memorable worthies, whose career was terminated upon the gallows or the scaffold. In the meantime a retrospect to my own situation rendered a perseverance even in this industry difficult to be maintained. I often threw down my pen in an ecstasy of despair. Sometimes for whole days together I was incapable of action, and sunk into a sort of partial stupor, too wretched to be described. Youth and health however enabled me, from time to time, to get the better of my dejection, and to rouse myself to something like a gaiety, which, if it had been permanent, might have made this interval of my story tolerable to my reflections. CHAPTER IX While I was thus endeavouring to occupy, and provide for the intermediate period, till the violence of the pursuit after me might be abated, a new source of danger opened upon me, of which I had no previous suspicion. Jines, the thief who had been expelled from Captain Raymond's gang, had fluctuated during the last years of his life between the two professions of a violator of the laws and a retainer to their administration. He had originally devoted himself to the first, and probably his initiation in the Mysteries of Thieving qualified him to be peculiarly expert in the profession of a thief-taker, a profession he had adopted not from choice but necessity. In this employment his reputation was great, though perhaps not equal to his merits, for it happens here, as in other departments of human society, that however the subalterns may furnish wisdom and skill, the principles exclusively possess the éclin. He was exercising this art in a very prosperous manner when it happened by some accident, that one or two of his achievements previous to his having shaken off the dregs of unlicensed depredation were in danger of becoming subjects of public attention. Having had repeated intimations of this he thought it prudent to decamp, and it was during this period of his retreat that he entered into the blank gang. Such was the history of this man antecedently to his being placed in the situation in which I had first encountered him. At the time of that encounter he was a veteran of Captain Raymond's gang. For thieves being a short-lived race, the character of veteran costs the less time in acquiring. On his expulsion from this community he returned once more to his lawful profession, and by his old comrades was received with congratulation as a lost sheep. In the vulgar classes of society no length of time is sufficient to expiate a crime, but among the honourable fraternity of thief-takers it is a rule never to bring one of their own brethren to a reckoning when it can with any decency be avoided. They are probably reluctant to fix an unnecessary stain upon the ermine of their profession. Another rule observed by those who have passed through the same gradation as Jines had done, and which was adopted by Jines himself, is always to reserve such as have been the accomplices of their depredations to the last, and on no account to assail them without great necessity or powerful temptation. For this reason, according to Jines's system of tactics, Captain Raymond and his confederates were, as he would have termed it, safe from his retaliation. But though Jines was, in this sense of the term a man of strict honour, my case, unfortunately, did not fall within the laws of honour he acknowledged. Miss Fortune had overtaken me, and I was on all sides without protection or shelter. The persecution to which I was exposed was founded upon the supposition of my having committed felony to an immense amount. But in this, Jines had had no participation. He was careless whether the supposition were true or false, and hated me as much as if my innocence had been established beyond the reach of suspicion. The blood-hunters who had taken me into custody at Blank, related as usual among their fraternity a part of their adventure, and told of the reason which inclined them to suppose that the individual who had passed through their custody was the very Caleb Williams for whose apprehension a reward had been offered of a hundred guineas. Jines, whose acuteness was eminent in the way of his profession, by comparing facts and dates, was induced to suspect in his own mind that Caleb Williams was the person he had hustled and wounded upon Blank Forest. Against that person he entertained the bitterest aversion. I had been the innocent occasion of his being expelled with disgrace from Captain Raymond's gang, and Jines, as I afterwards understood, was intimately persuaded that there was no comparison between the liberal and manly profession of a robber, from which I had driven him, and the sordid and mechanical occupation of a blood-hunter, to which he was obliged to return. He no sooner received the information I have mentioned than he vowed revenge. He determined to leave all other objects and consecrate every faculty of his mind to the uncanneling me from my hiding-place. The offered reward, which his vanity made him consider as assuredly his own, appeared as the complete indemnification of his labour and expense. Thus I had to encounter the sagacity he possessed in the way of his profession, wetted and stimulated by a sentiment of vengeance, in a mind that knew no restraint from conscience or humanity. When I drew to myself a picture of my situation soon after having fixed on my present abode, I foolishly thought, as the unhappy are accustomed to do, that my calamity would admit of no aggravation. The aggravation which, unknown to me, at this time occurred, was the most fearful that any imagination could have devised. Nothing could have happened more critically hostile to my future peace than my fatal encounter with Jines upon blank forest. By this means, as it now appears, I had fastened upon myself a second enemy of that singular and dreadful sort that has determined never to dismiss its animosity as long as life shall endure. While Falkland was the hungry lion whose roaring astonished and appalled me, Jines was a noxious insect, scarcely less formidable and tremendous, that hovered about my goings and perpetually menaced me with the poison of his sting. The first step pursued by him in execution of his project was to set out for the seaport town where I had formerly been apprehended. From thence he traced me to the banks of the Severn, and from the banks of the Severn to London. It is scarcely necessary to observe that this is always practicable, yet the pursuer have motives strong enough to excite him to perseverance, unless the precautions of the fugitive be, in the highest degree, both judicious in the conception and fortunate in the execution. Jines indeed, in the course of his pursuit, was often obliged to double his steps, and like the Harrier, whenever he was at a fault, returned to the place where he had last perceived the descent of the animal, whose death he had decreed. He spared neither pains nor time in the gratification of the passion which choice had made his ruling one. Upon my arrival in town he for a moment lost all trace of me, London being a place in which, on account of the magnitude of its dimensions, it might well be supposed that an individual could remain hidden and unknown. But no difficulty could discourage this new adversary. He went from inn to inn, reasonably supposing that there was no private house to which I could immediately repair, till he found, by the description he gave, and the recollections he excited, that I had slept for one night in the borough of Southark. But he could get no further information. The people of the inn had no knowledge what had become of me the next morning. This however did but render him more eager in the pursuit. The describing me was now more difficult, on account of the partial change of dress I had made the second day of my being in town. But Jines at length overcame the obstacle from that quarter. Having traced me to my second inn he was here furnished with a more copious information. I had been a subject of speculation for the leisure hours of some of the persons belonging to this inn. An old woman, of a most curious and loquacious disposition, who lived opposite to it, and who that morning rose early to her washing, had espied me from her window by the light of a large lamp which hung over the inn, as I issued from the gate. She had but a very imperfect view of me, but she thought there was something Jewish in my appearance. She was accustomed to hold a conference every morning with the landlady of the inn. Some of the waiters and chambermaids occasionally assisting at it. In the course of the dialogue of this morning she asked some questions about the Jew who had slept there the night before. No Jew had slept there. The curiosity of the landlady was excited in her turn. By the time of the morning it could be no other but me. It was very strange. She compared notes respecting my appearance and dress. No two things could be more dissimilar. The Jew Christian, upon any dearth of subjects of intelligence, repeatedly furnished matter for their discourse. The information thus afforded to Jains appeared exceedingly material, but the performance did not for some time keep pace with the promise. He could not enter every private house into which lodgers were ever admitted in the same manner that he had treated the inns. He walked the streets and examined with a curious and inquisitive eye the countenance of every Jew about my stature, but in vain. He repaired to Duke's place and the synagogues. It was not here that in reality he could calculate upon finding me, but he resorted to those means in despair, and as a last hope. He was more than once upon the point of giving up the pursuit, but he was recalled to it by an insatiable and restless appetite for revenge. It was during this perturbed and fluctuating state of his mind that he chanced to pay a visit to a brother of his who was the head workman of a printing office. There was little intercourse between these two persons, their dispositions and habits of life being extremely dissimilar. The printer was industrious, sober, inclined to methodism, and of a propensity to accumulation. He was extremely dissatisfied with the character and pursuits of his brother, and had made some ineffectual attempts to reclaim him. But though they by no means agreed in their first habits of thinking, they sometimes saw each other. Jines loved to boast of as many of his achievements as he dared venture to mention, and his brother was one more hearer, in addition to the set of his usual associates. The printer was amused with the blunt sagacity of remark and novelty of incident that characterized Jines's conversation. He was secretly pleased, in spite of all his sober and church-going prejudices, that he was brother to a man of so much ingenuity and fortitude. After having listened for some time upon this occasion to the wonderful stories which Jines, in his rugged way, condescended to tell, the printer felt an ambition to entertain his brother in his turn. He began to retail some of my stories of cartouche and Goosemann Delfarche. The attention of Jines was excited. His first emotion was wonder. His second was envy and aversion. Where did the printer get these stories? This question was answered. I will tell you what, said the printer. We none of us know what to make of the writer of these articles. He writes poetry and morality and history. I am a printer and corrector of the press, and may pretend without vanity to be a tolerably good judge of these matters. He writes them all to my mind extremely fine, and yet he is no more than a Jew. To my honest printer this seemed as strange as if they had been written by a Cherokee chieftain at the falls of the Mississippi. A Jew? How do you know? Did you ever see him? No, the matter is always brought to us by a woman.  He likes to see his authors himself. So he plagues and plagues the old woman, but he can never get anything out of her except that one day she happened to draw up that the young gentleman was a Jew. A Jew? A young gentleman? A person who did everything by proxy and made a secret of all his motions. Here was abundant matter for the speculations and suspicions of Jines. He was confirmed in them without adverting to the process of his own mind by the subject of my lookubrations, men who died by the hand of the executioner. He said little more to his brother except asking, as if casually, what sort of an old woman this was, of what age she might be, and whether she often brought him materials of this kind. And soon after took occasion to leave him. It was with vast pleasure that Jines had listened to this unhoped for information. Having collected from his brother sufficient hints relative to the person and appearance of Mrs. Marnay, and understanding that he expected to receive something from me the next day, Jines took his stand in the street early, that he might not risk miscarriage by negligence. He waited several hours, but not without success. Mrs. Marnay came, he watched her into the house, and after about twenty minutes delay saw her return. He dogged her from street to street, observed her finally entered the door of a private house, and congratulated himself upon having at length arrived at the consummation of his labours. The house she entered was not her own habitation. By a sort of miraculous accident she had observed Jines following her in the street. As she went home she saw a woman who had fallen down in a fainting fit. Moved by the compassion that was ever alive in her, she approached her in order to render her assistance. Presently a crowd collected round them. Mrs. Marnay, having done what she was able, once more proceeded homewards. Observing the crowd round her, the idea of pickpockets occurred to her mind. She put her hands to her sides, and at the same time looked round upon the populace. She had left the circle somewhat abruptly, and Jines, who had been obliged to come nearer, lest he should lose her in the confusion, was at that moment standing exactly opposite to her. His visage was of the most extraordinary kind. Habit had written the characters of malignant cunning and dauntless effrontery in every line of his face, and Mrs. Marnay, who was neither philosopher nor physiognomist, was nevertheless struck. This good woman, like most persons of her notable character, had a peculiar way of going home, not through the open streets, but by narrow lanes and alleys, with intricate insertions and sudden turnings. In one of these, by some accident, she once again caught a glance of her pursuer. This circumstance, together with the singularity of his appearance, awakened her conjectures. Could he be following her? It was the middle of the day, and she could have no fears for herself. But could this circumstance have any reference to me? She recollected the precautions and secrecy I practised, and had no doubt that I had reasons for what I did. She recollected that she had always been upon her guard respecting me, but had she been sufficiently so. She thought that, if she should be the means of any mischief to me, she should be miserable for ever. She determined, therefore, by way of precaution in case of the worst, to call at a friend's house, and send me word of what had occurred. Having instructed her friend, she went out immediately upon a visit to a person in the exactly opposite direction, and desired her friend to proceed upon the errand to me five minutes after she left the house. By this prudence she completely extricated me from the present danger. Meantime the intelligence that was brought me by no means ascertained the greatness of the peril. For anything I could discover in it the circumstance might be perfectly innocent, and the fear solely proceed from the overcaution and kindness of this benevolent and excellent woman. Yet such was the misery of my situation I had no choice. For this menace, or no menace, I was obliged to desert my habitation at a minute's warning, taking with me nothing but what I could carry in my hand, to see my generous benefactress no more, to quit my little arrangements and provision, and to seek once again in some forlorn retreat new projects, and if of that I could have any rational hope a new friend. I descended into the street with a heavy, not an irresolute heart. It was broad day. I said persons are at this moment supposed to be roaming the street in search of me. I must not trust to the chance of their pursuing one direction, and I another. I traversed half a dozen streets, and then dropped into an obscure house of entertainment for persons of small expense. In this house I took some refreshment, past several hours of active but melancholy thinking, and at last procured a bed. As soon, however, as it was dark I went out, for this was indispensable, to purchase the materials of a new disguise. Having adjusted it as well as I could during the night I left this asylum with the same precautions that I had employed in former instances. CHAPTER X I procured a new lodging. By some bias of the mind it may be gratifying itself with images of peril, I inclined to believe that Mrs. Marnie's alarm had not been without foundation. I was, however, unable to conjecture through what means danger had approached me, and had therefore only the unsatisfactory remedy of redoubling my watch upon all my actions. Still I had the joint considerations pressing upon me of security and subsistence. I had some small remains of the produce of my former industry, but this was but small, for my employer was in a rear with me, and I did not choose in any method to apply to him for payment. The anxieties of my mind, in spite of all my struggles, preyed upon my health. I did not consider myself as in safety for an instant. My appearance was wasted to a shadow, and I started at every sound that was unexpected. Sometimes I was half-tempted to resign myself into the hands of the law and brave its worst, but resentment and indignation at those times speedily flowed back upon my mind and reanimated my perseverance. I knew no better resource with respect to subsistence than that I had employed in the former instance of seeking some third person to stand between me and the disposal of my industry. I might find an individual ready to undertake this office in my behalf, but where should I find the benevolent soul of Mrs. Marnie? The person I fixed upon was a Mr. Spurl, a man who took in work from the watchmakers and had an apartment upon our second floor. I examined him two or three times with irresolute glances as we passed upon the stairs, before I would venture to accost him. He observed this, and at length kindly invited me into his apartment. Being seated he condoled with me upon my seeming bad health, and the solitary mode of my living, and wished to know whether he could be of any service to me. From the first moment he saw me he had conceived an affection for me. In my present disguise I appeared twisted and deformed, and in other respects by no means an object of attraction. But it seemed Mr. Spurl had lost an only son about six months before, and I was the very picture of him.  He was now an old man, as he observed, just dropping into the grave, and his son had been his only consolation. The poor lad was always ailing, but he had been a nurse to him, and the more tending he required while he was alive, the more he missed him now he was dead. Now he had not a friend nor anybody that cared for him in the whole world. If I pleased I should be instead of that son to him, and he would treat me in all respects with the same attention and kindness. I expressed my sense of these benevolent offers, but told him that I should be sorry to be in any way burdensome to him. My ideas at present led me to a private and solitary life, and my chief difficulty was to reconcile this with some mode of earning necessary subsistence. If he would condescend to lend me his assistance in smoothing this difficulty it would be the greatest benefit he could confer on me. I added that, my mind had always had a mechanical and industrious turn, and that I did not doubt of soon mastering any craft to which I seriously applied myself. I had not been brought up to any trade, but if he would favour me with his instructions I would work with him as long as he pleased for a bare subsistence. I knew that I was asking of him an extraordinary kindness, but I was urged on the one hand by the most extreme necessity, and encouraged on the other by the persuasiveness of his friendly professions. The old man dropped some tears over my apparent distress and readily consented to everything I proposed. Our agreement was soon made, and I entered upon my functions accordingly. My new friend was a man of a singular turn of mind. Love of money and a charitable officiousness of demeanour were his leading characteristics. He lived in the most penurious manner, and denied himself every indulgence. I entitled myself almost immediately, as he frankly acknowledged, to some remuneration for my labours, and accordingly he insisted upon my being paid. He did not, however, as some persons would have done under the circumstance, pay me the whole amount of my earnings, but professed to subtract from them twenty percent, as an equitable consideration for instruction and commission money in procuring me a channel for my industry. Yet he frequently shed tears over me, was uneasy in every moment of our indispensable separation, and exhibited perpetual tokens of attachment and fondness. I found him a man of excellent mechanical contrivance, and received considerable pleasure from his communications. My own sources of information were various, and he frequently expressed his wonder and delight in the contemplation of my powers, as well of amusement as exertion. Thus I appeared to have tamed a situation not less eligible than in my connection with Mrs. Marnie. I was, however, still more unhappy. My fits of despondence were deeper and of more frequent recurrence. My health every day grew worse, and Mr. Spurl was not without apprehensions that he should lose me, as he before lost his only son. I had not been long, however, in this new situation, before an incident occurred which filled me with greater alarm and apprehension than ever. I was walking out one evening after a long visitation of Langer for an hour's exercise and air, when my ears were struck with two or three casual sounds from the mouth of a hawker who was bawling his wares. I stood still to inform myself more exactly when, to my utter astonishment and confusion, I heard him deliver himself nearly in these words. Here you have the most wonderful and surprising history and miraculous adventures of Caleb Williams. You are informed how he first robbed, and then brought false accusations against his master, as also of his attempting diverse times to break out of prison, till at last he affected his escape in the most wonderful and incredible manner, as also of his travelling the kingdom in various disguises, and the robberies he committed with the most desperate and daring gang of thieves, and of his coming up to London where it is supposed he now lies concealed, with a true and faithful copy of the hue and cry, printed and published by one of his Majesty's most principal secretaries of state, offering a reward of one hundred guineas for apprehending him, all for the price of one half penny. Petrified as I was at these amazing and dreadful sounds, I had the temerity to go up to the man and purchase one of his papers. I was desperately resolved to know the exact state of the fact and what I had to depend upon. I carried it with me a little way, till no longer able to endure the tumult of my impatience, I contrived to make out the chief part of its contents by the help of a lamp at the upper end of a narrow passage. I found it contained a great number of circumstances that could have been expected in this species of publication. I was equaled to the most notorious house-breaker in the art of penetrating through walls and doors, and to the most accomplished swindler in plausibleness, duplicity, and disguise. The hand-bill which Larkins had first brought to us upon the forest was printed at length. All my disguises, previously to the last alarm that had been given me by the providence of Mrs. Marnie, were faithfully enumerated, and the public were warned to be upon their watch against a person of an uncouth and extraordinary appearance, and who lived in a reckless and solitary manner. I also learned from this paper that my former lodgings had been searched on the very evening of my escape, and that Mrs. Marnie had been sent to Newgate upon a charge of misprision of felony. This last circumstance affected me deeply. In the midst of my own sufferings my sympathies flowed undiminished. It was a most cruel and intolerable idea, if I were not only myself to be an object of unrelenting persecution, but my very touch were to be infectious, and every one that suckered me was to be involved in the common ruin. My instant feeling was that of a willingness to undergo the utmost malice of my enemies. Could I by that means have saved this excellent woman from alarm and peril? I afterwards learned that Mrs. Marnie was delivered from confinement by the interposition of her noble relation. My sympathy for Mrs. Marnie, however, was at this moment a transient one, a more imperious and irresistible consideration demanded to be heard. With what sensations did I ruminate upon this paper? Every word of it carried despair to my heart. The actual apprehension that I dreaded would perhaps have been less horrible. It would have put an end to that lingering terror to which I was a prey. Disguise was no longer of use. A numerous class of individuals, through every department, almost every house of the metropolis, would be induced to look with suspicious eye upon every stranger, especially a very solitary stranger that fell under their observation. The prize of one hundred guineas was held out to excite their avarice and sharpen their penetration. It was no longer Bow Street. It was a million of men in arms against me. Neither had I the refuge which few men have been so miserable as to want of one single individual with whom to repose my alarms, and who might shelter me from the gaze of indiscriminate curiosity. What could exceed the horrors of this situation? My heart knocked against my ribs, my bosom heaved, I gasped and panted for breath. There is no end, then, said I, to my persecutors. My unwearyed and long-continued labours lead to no termination—termination. No, the lapse of time that cures all other things makes my case more desperate. Why then, exclaimed I, a new train of thought suddenly rushing into my mind, why should I sustain the contest any longer? I can at least elude my persecutors in death. I can bury myself and the traces of my existence together in friendly oblivion, and thus bequeath eternal doubt and ever new alarm to those who have no peace but in pursuing me. In the midst of the horrors with which I was now impressed, this idea gave me pleasure, and I hastened to the Thames to put it in instant execution. Such was the paroxysm of my mind that my powers of vision became partially suspended. I was no longer conscious to the feebleness of disease, but rushed along with fervent impetuosity. I passed from street to street without observing what direction I pursued. After wandering I know not how long I arrived at London Bridge. I hastened to the stairs and saw the river covered with vessels. No human being must see me, said I, at the instant that I vanish forever. This thought required some consideration. A portion of time had elapsed since my first desperate purpose. My understanding began to return. The sight of the vessels suggested to me the idea of once more attempting to leave my native country. I inquired, and speedily found that the cheapest passage I could procure was in a vessel moored near the tower, and which was to sail in a few days for Middelburg, in Holland. I would have gone instantly on board, and have endeavored to prevail with the captain to let me remain there till he sailed. But unfortunately I had not money enough in my pocket to defray my passage. It was worse than this. I had not money enough in the world. I however paid the captain half his demand, and promised to return with the rest. I knew not in what manner it was to be procured, but I believed that I should not fail in it. I had some idea of applying to Mr. Spurle. Surely he would not refuse me. He appeared to love me with parental affection, and I thought I might trust myself for a moment in his hands. I approached my place of residence with a heavy and foreboding heart. Mr. Spurle was not at home, and I was obliged to wait for his return. Worn out with fatigue, disappointment, and the ill state of my health, I sunk upon a chair. Speedily, however, I recollected myself. I had work of Mr. Spurle's in my trunk, which had been delivered out to me that very morning, to five times the amount I wanted. I canvassed for a moment whether I should make use of this property, as if it were my own, but I rejected the idea with disdain. I had never in the smallest degree merited the reproaches that were cast upon me, and I determined I never would merit them. I sat gasping, anxious, full of the blackest forebodings. My terrors appeared, even to my own mind, greater and more importunate than the circumstances authorized. It was extraordinary that Mr. Spurle should be abroad at this hour. I had never known it happen before. His bedtime was between nine and ten. Ten o'clock came, eleven o'clock, but not Mr. Spurle. At midnight I heard his knock at the door. Every soul in the house was in bed. Mr. Spurle, on account of his regular hours, was unprovided with a key to open for himself. A gleam, a sickly gleam of the social spirit, came over my heart. I flew nimbly downstairs and opened the door. I could perceive, by the little taper in my hand, something extraordinary in his countenance. I had not time to speak before I saw two other men follow him. At the first glance I was sufficiently assured what sort of persons they were. At the second I perceived that one of them was no other than Jines himself. I had understood formerly that he had been of this profession, and I was not surprised to find him in it again, though I had, for three hours, endeavored, as it were, to prepare myself for the unavoidable necessity of falling once again into the hands of the officers of law. The sensation I felt at their entrance was indescribably agonizing. I was besides not a little astonished at the time and manner of their entrance, and I felt anxious to know whether Mr. Spurle could be base enough to have been their introducer. I was not long held in perplexity. He no sooner saw his followers within the door than he exclaimed with convulsive eagerness, There! There! That is your man! Thank God! Thank God!" Jines looked eagerly in my face with a countenance expressive alternately of hope and doubt, and answered, By God! And I do not know whether it be or know. I am afraid we are in the wrong box. Then recollecting himself. We will go into the house and examine further, however. We all went upstairs into Mr. Spurle's room. I set down the candle upon the table. I had hitherto been silent, but I determined not to desert myself, and was a little encouraged to exertion by the skepticism of Jines. With a calm and deliberate manner, therefore, in my feigned voice, one of the characteristics of which was lisping, I asked, Pray, gentlemen, what may be your pleasure with me? Why, said Jines, our errand is with one Caleb Williams, and a precious rascal he is. I ought to know the chap well enough, but they say he has as many faces as there are days in the year.  I remonstrated but in vain. I stood detected in part of my artifice, and Jines, though still uncertain, was every moment more and more confirmed in his suspicions. Mr.  As my imposture gradually appeared more palpable, he repeated his exclamation. Thank God, thank God! At last, tired with this scene of mummery and disgusted beyond measure with the base and hypocritical figure I seemed to exhibit, I exclaimed, Well, I am Caleb Williams. Conduct me wherever you please. And now Mr. Spurle. He gave a violent start. The instant I declared myself his transport had been at the highest, and was, to any power he was able to exert, absolutely uncontrollable. But the unexpectedness of my address, and the tone in which I spoke, electrified him. Is it possible, continued I, that you should have been the wretch to betray me? What have I done to deserve this treatment? Is this the kindness you professed?  My poor boy, my dear creature, cried Spurle whimpering, and in a tone of the humblest expostulation, indeed I could not help it. I would have helped it if I could. I hope they will not hurt my darling. I am sure I shall die if they do. Old driveler, interrupted I with a stern voice, do you betray me into the remorseless fangs of the law, and then talk of my not being hurt? I know my sentence, and am prepared to meet it. You have fixed the halter upon my neck, and at the same price would have done so to your only son. Go, count your accursed guineas. My life would have been safer in the hands of one I had never seen than in yours, whose mouth and whose eyes forever ran over with crocodile affection. I have always believed that my sickness, and as he apprehended approaching death, contributed its part to the treachery of Mr. Spurle. He predicted to his own mind the time when I should no longer be able to work. He recollected with agony the expense that attended his son's illness and death. He determined to afford me no assistance of a similar kind. He feared, however, the reproach of deserting me. He feared the tenderness of his nature. He felt that I was growing upon his affections, and that in a short time he could not have deserted me. He was driven by a sort of implicit impulse, for the sake of avoiding one ungenerous action, to take refuge in another, the basest and most diabolical. This motive, conjoining with the prospect of the proffered reward, was an incitement too powerful for him to resist. End of chapter 10 of volume the third