 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, and to find out how you can volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recorded by Nicole Duhlin on the web at NicoleDuhlin.com. Mall Flanders by Daniel Defoe. Section 14. While I was there, and before I was brought to bed, I received a letter from my trustee at the bank, full of kind, obliging things, and earnestly pressing me to return to London. It was near a fortnight old when it came to me, because it had been first sent into Lancashire, and then returned to me. He concludes with telling me that he had obtained a decree, I think he called it, against his wife, and that he would be ready to make good his engagement to me, if I would accept of him, adding a great many protestations of kindness and affection, such as he would have been far from offering, if he had known the circumstances I had been in, and which, as it was, I had been very far from deserving. I returned an answer to his letter, and dated it at Liverpool, but sent it by messenger, alleging that it came in cover to a friend in town. I gave him joy of his deliverance, but raised some scruples at the lawfulness of his marrying again, and told him I supposed he would consider very seriously upon that point before he resolved on it, the consequence being too great for a man of his judgment to venture rashly upon a thing of that nature. So concluded, wishing him very well in whatever he resolved, without letting him into anything of my own mind, or giving any answer to his proposal of my coming to London to him, but mentioned at a distance my intention to return the latter end of the year, this being dated in April. I was brought to bed about the middle of May, and had another brave boy, and myself in as good condition as usual on such occasions. My governess did her part as a midwife with the greatest art and dexterity imaginable, and far beyond all that ever I had had any experience of before. Her care of me in my travail, and after in my lying in, was such that if she had been my own mother, it could not have been better. Let none be encouraged in their loose practices from this dexterous lady's management, for she has gone to her place, and I dear say has left nothing behind her that can or will come up on it. I think I had been brought to bed about twenty-two days when I received another letter from my friend at the bank, with the surprising news that he had obtained a final sentence of divorce against his wife, and had served her with it on such a day, and that he had such an answer to give to all my scruples about his marrying again, as I could not expect, and as he had no desire of, for that his wife, who had been under some remorse before for her usage of him, as soon as she had the account that he had gained his point, had very unhappily destroyed herself that same evening. He expressed himself very handsomely as to his being concerned at her disaster, but cleared himself of having any hand in it, and that he had only done himself justice in a case in which he was notoriously injured and abused. However, he said that he was extremely afflicted at it, and had no view of any satisfaction left in his world, but only in the hope that I would come and relieve him by my company, and then he pressed me violently indeed to give him some hopes that I would at least come up to town and let him see me, when he would further enter into discourse about it. I was exceedingly surprised at the news, and began now seriously to reflect on my present circumstances, and the inexpressible misfortune it was to me to have a child upon my hands and what to do in it I knew not. At last I opened my case at a distance to my governess. I appeared melancholy and uneasy for several days, and she lay at me continually to know what trouble me. I could not for my life tell her that I had an offer of marriage, after I had so often told her that I had a husband, so that I really knew not what to say to her. I owned I had something which very much troubled me, but at the same time told her I could not speak of it to anyone alive. She continued importuning me for several days, but it was impossible, I told her, for me to commit the secret to anybody. This, instead of being an answer to her, increased her importunities. She urged her having been trusted with the greatest secrets of this nature, that it was her business to conceal everything, and that to discover things of that nature would be her ruin. She asked me if ever I had found her tattling to me of other people's affairs, and how could I suspect her? She told me to unfold myself to her was telling it to nobody, that she was silent as death, that it must be a very strange case indeed that she could not help me out of, but to conceal it was to deprive myself of all possible help, or means of help, and to deprive her of the opportunity of serving me. In short, she had such a bewitching eloquence, and so great a power of persuasion, that there was no concealing anything from her. So I resolved to unbuzzle myself to her. I told her the history of my Lancashire marriage, and how both of us had been disappointed, how we came together, and how we parted, how he absolutely discharged me, as far as lay in him, free liberty to marry again, protesting that if he knew it he would never claim me, or disturb or expose me. That I thought I was free, but was dreadfully afraid to venture, for fear of the consequences that might follow in case of a discovery. Then I told her what a good offer I had, showed her my friend's two last letters, inviting me to come to London, and let her see with what affection and earnestness they were written, but blotted out the name, and also the story about the disaster of his wife, only that she was dead. She fell a laughing at my scruples about marrying, and told me the other was no marriage, but a cheat on both sides, and that as we were parted by mutual consent, the nature of the contract was destroyed, and the obligation was mutually discharged. She had arguments for this at the tip of her tongue, and, in short, reasoned me out of my reason, not but that it was too by the help of my own inclination, but then came the great and main difficulty, and that was the child. This, she told me in so many words, must be removed, and that so as that it should never be possible for anyone to discover it. I knew there was no marrying without entirely concealing that I had had a child, for he would soon have discovered by the age of it that it was born, nay, ungotten to, since my parlay with him, and that would have destroyed all the affair, but it touched my heart so forcibly to think of parting entirely with the child, for all I knew of having it murdered or starved by neglect and ill usage, which was much the same, that I could not think of it without horror. I wish all those women who consent to the disposing of their children out of the way, as it is called for decency's sake, would consider that to zone the contrived method for murder. That is to say, a killing their children with safety. It is manifest to all that understand anything of children, that we are born into the world helpless and incapable either to supply our own wants or so much as to make them known, and that without help we must perish, and that this help requires not only an assisting hand, whether of the mother or somebody else, but are two things necessary in that assisting hand, that is, care and skill. Without both which half the children that are born would die, nay, though they were not to be denied food, and one half more of those that remained would be cripples or fools, lose their limbs, and perhaps their sense. I question not but that these are partly the reasons why affection was placed by nature in the hearts of mothers to their children, without which they would never be able to give themselves up, as to as necessary they should, to the care and waking pains needful to the support of their children, since this care is needful to the life of children. To neglect them is to murder them. Again, to give them up to be managed by those people who have none of that needful affection placed by nature in them is to neglect them in the highest degree, nay, in some it goes farther, and is a neglect in order to their being lost, so that is even an intentional murder, whether the child lives or dies. All those things represented themselves to my view, and that is the blackest and most frightful form, and as I was very free with my governess, whom I had now learned to call mother, I represented to her all the dark thoughts which I had upon me about it, and told her what distress I was in. She seemed graver by much at this part than at the other, but as she was hardened in these things beyond all possibility of being touched with the religious part, and the scruples about the murder, so she was equally impenetrable in that part which related to affection. She asked me if she had not been careful and tender to me in my lying in, as if I had been her own child. I told her I owned she had. Well, my dear, says she, and when you are gone, what are you to me? And what would it be to me if you were to be hanged? Do you think there are not women who, as it is their trade, and they get their bread by it? Value themselves upon their being as careful of children as their own mothers can be? And understand it rather better? Yes, yes, child, says she. Fear it not. How will we nursed ourselves? Are you sure you was nursed up by your own mother? And yet you look fat and fair, child, says the old Beldom. And with that she stroked me over the face. Never be concerned, child, says she. Going on in her droling way. I have no murderers about me. I employ the best and the honestest nurses there can be had, and have as few children miscarry under their hands, as there would if they were all nursed by mothers. We want neither care nor skill. She touched me to the quick when she asked if I was sure that I was nursed by my own mother. On the contrary, I was sure I was not. And I trembled, and looked pale at the very expression. Sure, said I to myself. This creature cannot be a witch, or have any conversation with a spirit that can inform her what was done with me before I was able to know it myself. And I looked at her as if I had been frightened. But reflecting that it could not be possible for her to know anything about me. That disorder went off, and I began to be easy. But it was not presently. She perceived the disorder I was in, but did not know the meaning of it. So she ran on in her wild talk about the weakness of my supposing that children were murdered because they were not all nursed by the mother, and to persuade me that the children she disposed of were as well used as if the mothers had the nursing of them themselves. It may be true, mother, says I. For ought I know, but my doubts are very strongly grounded indeed. Come then, says she. Let's hear some of them. Why first, says I, you give a piece of money to these people to take the child of the parents' hands and to take care of it as long as it lives. Now we know, mother, said I, that those are poor people, and their gain consists in being quits of the charge as soon as they can. How can I doubt but that, as it is best for them to have the child die, they are not over solicitous about life. This is all vapours and fancy, says the old woman. I tell you their credit depends upon the child's life, and they are as careful as any mother of you all. Oh, mother, says I, if I was but sure my little baby would be carefully looked to and have just as done it, I should be happy indeed. But it is impossible I can be satisfied in that point unless I saw it, and to see it would be ruined in destruction to me. As now my case stands, so what to do I know not. A fine story, says the governess. You would see the child, and you would not see the child. You would be concealed and discovered both together. These are the things impossible, my dear, so you must in do as other conscientious mothers have done before you, and be contented with things as they must be, though they are not as you wish them to be. I understood what she meant by conscientious mothers. She would have said conscientious whores, but she was not willing to disablage me. For really in this case I was not a whore, because legally married, the force of former marriage accepted. However, let me be what I would. I was not come up to that pitch of hardness common to the profession. I mean to be unnatural and regardless of the safety of my child. And I preserved this honest affection so long that I was upon the point of giving up my friend at the bank, who lay so hard at me to come to him and marry him, that in short there was hardly any room to deny him. At last my old governess came to me with her usual assurance. Come, my dear, says she. I have found out away how you shall be at a certainty that your child shall be used well, and yet the people that take care of it shall never know you or who the mother of the child is. Oh, mother, says I, if you can do so, you will engage me to you forever. Well, says she, are you willing to be a some small annual expense, more than what we usually give to the people we contract with? I, says I, with all my heart, provided I may be concealed. As to that, says the governess, you shall be secure, for the nurse shall never so much as dare to inquire about you, and you shall once or twice a year go with me and see your child, and see how it is used, and be satisfied that it is in good hands, nobody knowing who you are. Why, said I, do you think, mother, that when I come to see my child, I shall be able to conceal my being the mother of it? Do you think that possible? Well, well, says my governess. If you discover it, the nurse shall be never the wiser, for she shall be forbid to ask any questions about you, or to take any notice. If she offers it, she shall lose the money which you are supposed to give her, and the child shall be taken from her too. I was very well pleased with this. So the next week a countrywoman was brought from Hertford, or thereabouts, who was to take the child off her hands entirely for ten pounds in money. But if I would allow five pounds a year more of her, she would be obliged to bring the child to my governess's house, as often as we desired, for we should come down and look at it, and see how well she used it. The woman was very wholesome looking, a likely woman, her cottage's wife. But she had very good clothes and linen, and everything well about her. And with a heavy heart and many a tear, I let her have my child. I had been down at Hertford, and looked at her and at her dwelling, which I liked well enough, and I promised her great things if she would be kind to the child. So she knew at first word that I was the child's mother. But she seemed to be so much out of the way, and to have no room to inquire after me, that I thought I was safe enough. So, in short, I consented to let her have the child. And I gave her ten pounds, that is to say, I gave it to my governess, who gave it the poor woman before my face. She agreeing never to return the child back to me, or to claim anything more for its keeping or bringing up. Only that I promised. She took a great deal of care of it. I would give her something more as often as I came to see it. So that I was not bound to pay the five pounds. Only that I promised my governess I would do it. And thus my great care was over, after a manner, which though it did not at all satisfy my mind, yet was the most convenient for me, as my affairs then stood, of any that could be thought of at that time. I then began to write to my friend at the bank, in a more kindly style, and particularly about the beginning of July 1st, sent him a letter, that I proposed to be in town, some time in August. He returned me an answer in the most passionate terms imaginable, and desired me to let him have timely notice. And he would come and meet me, in two days' journey. This puzzled me scurvally, and I did not know what answer to make of it. Once I resolved to take the stagecoach to Westchester, on purpose only to have the satisfaction of coming back, that he might see me really come in the same coach, for I had a jealous thought, though I had no ground for it at all, lest he should think I was not really in the country, and it was no ill-grounded thought as you shall hear presently. I endeavoured to reason myself out of it, but it was in vain, the impression lay so strong on my mind, that it was not to be resisted. At last it came as an addition to my new design of going into the country, that it would be an excellent blind to my old governess, and would cover entirely all my other affairs, for she did not know in the least whether my new lover lived in London or in Lancashire, and when I told her my resolution, she was fully persuaded it was in Lancashire. Having taken my measure for this journey, I let her know it, and sent the maid that tended me from the beginning to take a place for me in the coach. She would have had me let the maid have waited on me down to the last stage and come up again in the wagon, but I convinced her it would not be convenient. When I went away, she told me she would enter into no measures for correspondence, for she saw evidently that my affection to my child would cause me to write to her, and to visit her too when I came to town again. I assured her it would, and so took my leave, well satisfied to have been freed from such a house. However good my accommodations there had been, as I have related above. I took the place in the coach, not to its full extent, but to a place called Stone in Cheshire, I think it is, where I not only had no manner of business, but not so much as the least acquaintance with any person in the town or near it. But I knew that with money in the pocket, one is at home anywhere. So I lodged there two or three days, till watching my opportunity. I found room in another stage-coach, and took passage back again for London, sending a letter to my gentleman that I should be such a certain day at Stony Stratford, where the coachman told me he was to lodge. It happened to be a chance-coach that I had taken up, which, having been hired on purpose to carry some gentleman to Westchester, who were going for Ireland, was now returning, and did not tie itself to exact times or places, as the stages did, so that, having been obliged to lie still on Sunday, he had time to get himself ready to come out, which otherwise he could not have done. However, his warning was so short that he could not reach to Stony Stratford time enough to be with me at night. But he met me at a place called Brick Hill the next morning, as we were just coming into tow. I confess I was very glad to see him, for I had thought myself a little disappointed overnight, seeing I had gone so far to contrive my coming-on purpose. He pleased me doubly too by the figure he came in, for he brought a very handsome gentleman's coach and four horses with a servant to attend him. He took me out of the stagecoach immediately, which stopped at an inn in Brick Hill, and, putting into the same inn, he set up his own coach and bespoke as dinner. I asked him what he meant by that, for I was going forward with the journey. He said no, I had need of a little rest upon the road, that I was edit, and that was a very good sort of house, though it was but a little town. So he would go no farther that night, whatever came of it. I did not press him much, for since he had come so to meet me and put himself to so much expense, it was but reasonable I should oblige him a little too, so I was easy as to that point. After dinner we walked to see the town, to see the church, and to view the fields and the country, as is usual for strangers to do. And our landlord was our guide in going to see the church. I observed my gentleman inquire pretty much about the parson, and I took the hint immediately that he certainly would propose to be married. And though it was a sudden thought, it followed presently that, in short, I would not refuse him, for to be plain, with my circumstances I was in no condition now to say no. I had no reason now to run any more such hazards, but while these thoughts ran round in my head, which was the work but of a few moments, I observed my landlord took him aside and whispered to him, though not very softly neither, for so much I overheard. Sir, if you shall have occasion—the rest I could not hear. But it seems it was to this purpose. Sir, if you shall have occasion for a minister, I have a friend a little way off that will serve you, and be as private as you please. My gentleman answered loud enough for me to hear. Very well, I believe I shall. I was no sooner come back to the inn, but he fell upon me with irresistible words, that since he had had the good fortune to meet me, and everything incurred, it would be hastening his felicity if I would put an end to the matter just there. What do you mean, says I, colouring little? What, in and in, and upon the road? Bless us all, said I, as if I had been surprised. How can you talk so? Oh, I can talk so very well, says he. I come a purpose to talk so, and I'll show you that I did. And with that he pours out a great bundle of papers. You fright me, said I. What are all these? Don't be frighted, my dear, said he, and kissed me. This was the first time that he had been so free to call me my dear. Then he repeated it. Don't be frighted. You shall see what it is all. Then he laid them all abroad. There was first the deed or sentence of divorce from his wife, and the full evidence of her playing the whore. Then there were the certificates of the minister and church wardens of the parish where she lived, proving that she was buried, and intimating the manner of her death. The copy of the coroner's warrant for a jury to sit upon her, and the verdict of the jury, who brought it in non-compassementous. All this was indeed to the purpose, and to give me satisfaction, though, by the way, I was not so scrupulous, had he known all, but that I might have taken him without it. However, I looked them all over as well as I could, and told him that this was all very clear indeed, but that he need not have given himself the trouble to have brought them out with him, for it was time enough. Well, he said, it might be time enough for me, but no time but the present time was time enough for him. There were other papers rolled up, and I asked him what they were. Why, I, says he, that's the question I wanted to have you ask me. So he enrolls them and takes out a little chagrin case, and gives me out of it a very fine diamond ring. I could not refuse it, if I had a mind to do so, for he put it upon my finger, so I made him a curtsy and accepted it. Then he takes out another ring. And this, says he, is for another occasion. So he puts that in his pocket. Well, but let me see it, though, says I, and smiled. I guess what it is. I think you are mad. I should have been mad if I had done less, says he, and still he did not show me, and I had a great mind to see it. So I says, well, but let me see it. Hold, says he, first look here. Then he took up the roll again and read it, and behold, it was a license for us to be married. Why, says I, are you distracted? Why, you were fairly satisfied that I would comply and yield at first word, or resolve to take no denial. The last is certainly the case, said he. But you may be mistaken, said I. No, no, says he. How can you think so? I must not be denied. I can't be denied. And with that he fell to kissing me so violently I could not get rid of him. There was a bed in the room, and we were walking to and again, eager in the discourse. At last he takes me by surprise in his arms and threw me on the bed and himself with me, and holding me fast in his arms. But without the least offer of any indecency courted me to consent with such repeated entreaties and arguments, protesting his affection, and vowing he would not let go till I had promised him that at last I said, Why, you resolve not to be denied. Indeed, I can't be denied. Where well said I, and giving him a slight kiss, Then you shan't be denied, said I. Let me get up. He was so transported with my consent, and the kind manner of it, that I began to think once he took it for a marriage and would not stay for the form. But wronged him, for he gave over kissing me, and then giving me two or three kisses again, thanked me for my kind yielding to him, and was so overcome with the satisfaction and joy of it, that I saw tears stand in his eyes. I turned from him, for it filled my eyes with tears too, and I asked him to leave to retire a little to my chamber. If ever I had a grain of true repentance for a vicious and abominable life for twenty-four years past, it was then, Oh, what a felicity is it to mankind, said I to myself, that they cannot see into the hearts of one another. How happy had it been for me, if I had been wife to a man so much honesty and so much affection from the beginning. Then it occurred to me, what an abominable creature am I, and how is this innocent gentleman going to be abused by me? How little does he think that having divorced a whore, he is throwing himself into the arms of another, that he is going to marry one, that is laying with two brothers, and has had three children by her own brother, one that was born in Newgate, whose mother was a whore, and is now a transported thief, one that has lain with thirteen men, and has had a child since he saw me. Poor gentleman, said I, what is he going to do? After this reproaching myself was over, it following thus, well, if I must be his wife, if it please God to give me grace, I will be a true wife to him, and love him suitably to the strange excess of his passion for me. I will make him a men's if possible, by what he shall see, for the cheats and abuses I put upon him, which he does not see. He was impatient for my coming out of my chamber, but finding me long, he went downstairs and talked with my landlord about the parson. My landlord, an officious, though well-meaning fellow, had sent away for the neighbouring clergyman, and when my gentleman began to speak of it to him, and talk of sending for him. Sir, says he to him, my friend is in the house, so without any more words he brought them together. When he came to the minister, he asked him if he would venture to marry a couple of strangers that were both willing. The parson said that Mr. had said something to him of it. That he hoped it was no clandestine business. That he seemed to be a grave gentleman, and he supposed madam was not a girl, so that the consent of friend should be wanted. To put you out of doubt of that, says my gentleman, read this paper, and out he pulsed the licence. I am satisfied, says the minister. Where is the lady? You shall see her presently, says my gentleman. When he had said thus he comes upstairs, and I was by that time come out of my room. So he tells me the minister was below, and that he had talked with him, and that upon showing him the licence, he was free to marry us with all his heart. But he asked to see you. So he asked if I would let him come up. This time enough, said I. In the morning is it not? Why, said he, my dear, he seemed to scruple whether it was not some young girl stolen from her parents, and I assured him we were both of age to command our own consent, and that made him ask to see you. Well, said I, do as you please. So up they brings the parson, and a merry good sort of gentleman he was. He had been told, it seems, that we had met there by accident, that I came in the Chester coach, and my gentleman in his own coach to meet me, that we were to have met last night at Stony Stratford, but that he could not reach so far. Well, sir, says the parson, every ill-turn has some good in it, the disappointment, sir, as he, to my gentleman, was yours and the good turn is mine, for if you had met at Stony Stratford, I had not had the honour to marry you. Landlord, have you a common prayer-book? I started as if I had been frightened. Lord, sir, says I, what do you mean? What, to marry in and in, and at night, too? Madam, says the minister, if you will have it be in the church, you shall, but I assure you your marriage will be as firm here as in the church. We are not tied by the cannons to marry nowhere but in the church, and if you will have it in the church, it will be as public as a county fair. And as for the time of day, it does not at all weigh in this case. Our princes are married in their chambers, and at eight or ten o'clock at night. It was a great while before I could be persuaded, and pretended not to be willing at all to be married but in the church. But it was all grimace, so I seemed at last to be prevailed on, and my landlord and his wife and daughter were called up. My landlord was father and clerk and altogether, and we were married, and very merry we were. Though I confess the self-approaches which I had upon me before, lay close to me, and extorted every now and then a deep sigh from me, which my bride-room took notice of, and endeavored to encourage me, thinking, poor man, that I had some little hesitations at the step I had taken so hastily. We enjoyed ourselves that evening completely, and yet all was kept so private in the inn that not a servant in the house knew of it, for my landlady and her daughter waited on me and would not let any of the maids come upstairs, except while we were at supper. My landlady's daughter I called my bride's maid, and, sending for a shopkeeper the next morning, I gave the young woman a good suit of knots, as good as the town would afford, and finding it was a lace-making town, I gave her mother a piece of bone lace for a head. One reason that my landlord was so close was that he was unwilling the minister of the parish should hear of it, but for all that somebody heard of it, so at that we had the bell set a-ringing the next morning early, and the music, such as the town would afford, under our window. But my landlord brazened it out, that we were married before we came thither, only that, being his former guests, we would have our wedding supper at his house. We could not find in our hearts to stir the next day, for, in short, having been disturbed by the bells in the morning, and having perhaps not slept over much before, we were so sleepy afterwards, that we lay in bed till almost twelve o'clock. I begged my landlady that we might not have any more music in the town, nor ringing of bells, and she managed it so well, that we were very quiet. But an odd passage interrupted all my mirth for a good while. The great room of the house looked into the street, and my new spouse being below stairs. I had walked to the end of the room, and it being a pleasant warm day, I had opened the window, and was standing at it for some ear. When I saw three gentlemen come by on horseback, and go into an inn just against us, it was not to be concealed. Nor was it so doubtful as to leave me any room to question it. But the second of the three was my Lancashire husband. I was frightened to death. I never was in such a consternation in my life. I thought I should have sunk into the ground. My blood ran chill in my veins, and I trembled as I had been in a cold fit of a hue. I say there was no room to question the truth of it. I knew his clothes, I knew his horse, and I knew his face. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to find out how you can volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recorded by Nicole Duhlin on the web at NicoleDuhlin.com. Mall Flanders by Daniel Defoe. Section 15 The first sensible reflect I made was that my husband was not by to see my disorder, and that I was very glad of it. The gentlemen had not been long in the house, but they came to the window of their room, as is usual. But my window was shut, you may be sure. However, I could not keep from peeping at them, and there I saw him again. Heard him call out to one of the servants of the house, for something he wanted, and received all the terrifying confirmations of its being the same person that were possible to be had. My next concern was to know, if possible, what was his business there, but that was impossible. Sometimes my imagination formed an idea of one frightful thing, sometimes of another. Sometimes I thought he had discovered me, and was come to upbraid me with ingratitude and breach of honour, and every moment I fancied he was coming up the stairs to insult me. And innumerable fancies came into my head of what was never in his head, nor ever could be, unless the devil had revealed it to him. I remained in this fright nearly two hours, and scarce ever kept my eye from the window or door of the inn where they were. At last, hearing a great clatter in the passage of their inn, I ran to the window, and, to my great satisfaction, saw them all three go out again and travel on westward. Had they gone towards London? I should have been still in a fright, lest I should meet him on the road again, that he should know me. But he went the contrary way, and so I was eased of that disorder. We resolved to be going the next day, but about six o'clock at night we were alarmed with a great uproar in the street, and people riding as if they had been out of their wits. And what was it? But a hue and cry after three high women that had robbed two coaches and some other travellers near Dunstable Hill. And notice had, it seems, been given that they had been seen at Prequill at such a house. Meaning the house where those gentlemen had been. The house was immediately beset and searched, but there were witnesses enough that the gentlemen had been gone over three hours. The crowd, having gathered about, we had the news presently, and I was heartily concerned now another way. I presently told the people of the house that I durst to say those were not the persons, for that I knew one of the gentlemen to be a very honest person and of a good estate in Lancashire. The constable who came with the hue and cry was immediately informed of this and came over to me to be satisfied from my own mouth, and I assured him that I saw the three gentlemen as I was at the window, that I saw them afterwards at the windows of the room they dined in, that I saw them afterwards take course, and I could assure him I knew one of them to be such a man that he was a gentleman of a very good estate and an undoubted character in Lancashire from whence I was just now upon my journey. The assurance with which I delivered this gave the mob gentry a check and gave the constable such satisfaction that he immediately sounded a retreat, told his people these were not the men, but that he had an account they were very honest gentlemen, and so they went all back again. What the truth of the matter was I knew not, but certain it was that the coaches were robbed at Dunstable Hill and five hundred and sixty pounds in money taken. Besides, some of the lace merchants that always travel that way had been visited too. As to the three gentlemen, that remains to be explained hereafter. Well, this alarm stopped us another day. Though my spouse was for travelling, and told me that it was always safest travelling after a robbery, for that the thieves were sure to be gone far enough off when they had alarmed the country, but I was afraid and uneasy, and indeed principally lest my old acquaintance should be upon the road still, and should chance to see me. I never lived four pleasanter days together in my life. I was a mere bride all this while, and my new spouse strove to make me entirely easy in everything. Oh, could this state of life have continued? How had all my past troubles been forgot, and my future sorrows avoided? But I had a past life of a most wretched kind to account for. Some of it in this world, as well as in another. We came away the fifth day, and my landlord, because he saw me uneasy, mounted himself, his son, and three honest country-fellows with good firearms, and without telling us of it, followed the coach, and would see a safe into Dunstable. We could do no less than treat them very handsomely at Dunstable, which cost my spouse about ten or twelve shillings, and something he gave the men for their time, too. But my landlord would take nothing for himself. This was the most happy contrivance for me that could have fallen out. For had I come to London unmarried, I must either have come to him for the first night's entertainment, or have discovered to him that I had not one acquaintance in the whole city of London that could receive a poor bride for the first night's lodging with her spouse. But now, being an old married woman, I made no scruple of going directly home with him, and there I took possession at once of a house well furnished, and a husband in very good circumstances, so that I had a prospect of a very happy life, if I knew how to manage it. And I had leisure to consider of the real value of the life I was likely to live, how different it was to be from the loose, ungoverned part I had acted before, and how much happier a life of virtue and sobriety is than that which we call a life of pleasure. Oh! had this particular scene of life lasted, or had I learned from that time I enjoyed it to have tasted the true sweetness of it, and had I not fallen into that poverty, which is the sure bane of virtue, how happy had I been, not only here, but perhaps forever. For while I lived thus, I was really a penitent for all my life past. I looked back on it with abhorrence, and might truly be said to hate myself for it. I often reflected how my lover at the bath struck at the hand of God, repented and abandoned me, and refused to see me any more, though he loved me to an extreme. But I, prompted by that worst of devil's poverty, returned to the vile practice, and made the advantage of what they call a handsome face, to be the relief to my necessities, and beauty be a pimp to vice. Now I seemed landed in a safe harbor, after the stormy voyage of life past was at an end, and I began to be thankful for my deliverance. I sat many an hour by myself, and wept over the remembrance of past follies, and the dreadful extravagances of a wicked life. And sometimes I flattered myself, that I had sincerely repented. But there are temptations which it is not in the power of human nature to resist. And few know what would be their case, if driven to the same exigencies. As covetous is the root of all evil, so poverty is, I believe, the worst of all snares. But I waved that discourse till I come to an experiment. I lived with this husband with the utmost tranquility. He was a quiet, sensible, sober man, virtuous, modest, sincere, and in his business diligent and just. His business was in a narrow compass, and his income sufficient to a plentiful way of living in the ordinary way, I do not say to keep an equipage, and make a figure, as the world calls it. Nor did I expect it, or desire it. For as I abhor the levity and extravagance of my former life, so I chose now to live retired, frugal, and within ourselves. I kept no company, made no visits, minded my family, and obliged my husband. And this kind of life became a pleasure to me. We lived in an uninterrupted course of ease and content for five years, when a sudden blow from an almost invisible hand blasted all my happiness, and turned me out into the world in a condition the reverse of all that had been before it. My husband, having trusted one of his fellow clerks, with a sum of money, too much for our fortunes to bear the loss of, the clerk failed, and the loss fell very heavy on my husband. Yet it was not so great neither, but that if he had had spirit and courage to have looked his misfortunes in the face, his credit was so good that, as I told him, he would easily recover it. For to sink under trouble is to double the weight, and he that will die in it shall die in it. It was in vain to speak comfortably to him. The wound had sunk too deep. It was a stab that touched the vitals. He grew melancholy and disconsolate, and from that thence lethargic, and died. I foresaw the blow, and was extremely oppressed in my mind, for I saw evidently that if he died I was undone. I had had two children by him, and no more, for, to tell the truth, it began to be time for me to leave bearing children. For I was now eight and forty, and I suppose if he had lived I should have had no more. I was now left in a dismal and disconsolate case indeed, and in several things worse than ever. First it was past the flourishing time with me, when I might expect to be courted for a mistress. That agreeable part had declined some time, and the ruins only appeared of what had been, and that which was worse than all this, that I was the most dejected, disconsolate creature alive. I that had encouraged my husband, and endeavoured to support his spirits under his trouble, could not support my own. I wanted that spirit in trouble, which I told him was so necessary to him for bearing the burden, but my case was indeed deplorable. For I was left perfectly friendless and helpless, and the loss my husband had sustained had reduced his circumstances so low, that though indeed I was not in debt, yet I could easily foresee that what was left would not support me long, that while it wasted daily for subsistence, I had not way to increase it one shilling, so that it would be soon all spent. And then I saw nothing before me but the utmost distress, and this represented itself so lively to my thoughts, that it seemed as if I was come before it was really very near. Also my very apprehensions doubled the misery, for I fancied every sixpence that I paid for a loaf of bread, was the last that I had in the world, and that tomorrow I was to fast and be starved to death. In this distress I had no assistant, no friend to comfort or advise me. I sat and cried and tormented myself night and day, wringing my hands, and sometimes raving like a distracted woman. And indeed I have often wondered it had not affected my reason, for I had the vapours to such a degree that my understanding was sometimes quite lost in fancies and imaginations. I lived two years in this dismal condition, wasting that little I had, weeping continually over my dismal circumstances, and, as it were, only bleeding to death, without the least hope or prospect of help from God or man. And now I had cried too long, and so often the tears were, as I might say, exhausted, and I began to be desperate, for I grew poor apace. For a little relief I had put off my house and took lodgings, and I was reducing my living, so I sold off most of my goods, which put a little money in my pocket, and I lived near a year upon that, ending very sparingly, and eking things out to the utmost. But still, when I looked before me, my very heart would sink within me at the inevitable approach of misery and want. Oh, let none read this part without seriously reflecting on the circumstances of a desolate state, and how they would grapple with mere want of friends and want of bread. It will certainly make them think not of sparing what they have, only but of looking up to heaven for support. Hand of the wise man's prayer. Give me not poverty, lest I steal. Let them remember that a time of distress is a time of dreadful temptation, and all the strength to resist is taken away. Poverty presses. The soul is made desperate by distress. And what can be done? It was one evening, when being brought, as I may say, to the last gasp. I think I may truly say I was distracted and raving. When prompted by I know not what spirit and, as it were, doing I did not know what or why. I dressed me, for I had still pretty good clothes, and went out. I am very sure I had no manner of design in my head when I went out. I neither knew nor considered where to go, or on what business. But as the devil carried me out and laid his bait for me, so he brought me, to be sure, to the place, for I knew not whether I was going or what I did. Wandering thus about, I knew not wither. I passed by an apothecary shop in Leddenhall Street when I saw a lie on a stool just before the counter, a little bundle wrapped in a white cloth. Beyond it stood a maid-servant with her back to it, looking towards the top of the shop, where the apothecary's apprentice, as I suppose, was standing upon the counter, with his back also to the door, and a candle in his hand, looking and reaching up to the upper shelf for something he wanted, so that both were engaged mighty earnestly, and nobody else in the shop. This was the bait. And the devil, who I said laid the snare, as readily prompted me as if he had spoke. For I remember, and shall never forget it. It was like a voice spoken to me over my shoulder, take the bundle, be quick, do it this moment. It was no sooner said, but I stepped into the shop, hand with my back to the wench, as if I had stood up for a cart that was going by. I put my hand behind me, and took the bundle, and went off with it. The maid or the fellow not receiving me, or anyone else. It is impossible to express the horror of my soul all the while I did it. When I went away, I had no heart to run, or scarce to mend my pace. I crossed the street, indeed, and went down the first turning I came to, and I think it was the street that went through into Fentchchurch Street. From thence I crossed and turned through so many ways and turnings that I could never tell which way it was, not where I went, for I felt not the ground I stepped on, and the farther I was out of danger, the faster I went till tired and out of breath. I was forced to sit down on a little bench at a door, and then I began to recover, and found I was got into Thames Street, near Billingsgate. I rested me a little and went on. My blood was all in a fire. My heart beat as if I was in a sudden fright. In short, I was under such a surprise that I still knew not whether I was going, or what to do. After I had tired myself thus, with walking a long way about, and so eagerly, I began to consider and make home to my lodging, where I came about nine o'clock at night, when the bundle was made up for, or on what occasion they'd where I found it. I knew not, but when I came to open it, I found there was a suit of child-bed linen in it. Very good and almost new. The lace very fine. There was a silver poringer of a pint, a small silver mug, and six spoons, with some other linen, a good smock, and three silk handkerchiefs. Hand in the mug wrapped up in a paper, eighteen shillings, six pence and money. All the while I was opening these things, I was under such dreadful impressions of fear, and I such terror of mind, though I was perfectly safe, that I cannot express the manner of it. I sat me down and cried most vehemently. Lord said I, what am I now? A thief? Why? I shall be taken next time, and be carried to Newgate, and be tried for my life. And with that I cried again a long time, and I am sure, as poor as I was, if I had durst for fear, I would certainly have carried the things back again, but that went off after a while. Well, I went to bed for that night, but slept little. The horror of the fact was upon my mind, and I knew not what I said or did all night, and all the next day. Then I was impatient to hear some news of the loss, and would feign know how it was, whether they were a poor body's goods or a rich. Perhaps, said I, it may be some poor widow like me that had packed up these goods to go and sell them for a little bread for herself, and a poor child, and are now starving and breaking their hearts for want of that little they would have fetched. And this thought tormented me worse than all the rest for three or four days' time, but my own distresses silenced all these reflections, and the prospect of my own starving, which grew every day more frightful to me, hardened my heart by degrees. It was then particularly heavy upon my mind that I had been reformed and had, as I hoped, repented of all my past wickedness, that I had lived a sober, grave, retired life for several years. But now I should be driven by the dreadful necessity of my circumstances to the gates of destruction, soul and body. And two or three times I fell upon my knees praying to God as well as I could for deliverance. But I cannot but say my prayers had no hope in them. I knew not what to do. It was all a fear without and dark within, and I reflected on my past life as not sincerely repented of, that Heaven was now beginning to punish me on this side the grave, and would make me as miserable as I had been wicked. Had I gone on here, I had perhaps been a true penitent. But I had an evil counsellor within, and he was continually prompting me to relieve myself by the worst means. So one evening he tempted me again by the same wicked impulse that it said, take that bundle, to go out again and seek for what might happen. I went out now by daylight and wondered about I knew not wither, and in search of I knew not what, when the devil put a snare in my way of a dreadful nature indeed, and such a one as I have never had before or since. Going through Aldersgate Street, there was a pretty little child who had been at dancing school and was going home all alone, and my prompter, like a true devil, set me upon this innocent creature. I talked to it, and it prattled to me again, and I took it by the hand, and let it along till I came to a paved alley that goes into Bartholomew Close, and I let it in there. The child said that was not its way home. I said, yes, my dear, it is. I'll show you the way home. The child had a little necklace on of gold beads, and I had my eye upon that, and in the dark of the alley I stooped, pretending to mend the child's clog that was loose, and took off her necklace, and the child never felt it, and so led the child on again. Here, I say, the devil put me upon killing the child in the dark alley that it might not cry. But the very thought frighted me so that I was ready to drop down, but I turned the child about and bade it go back again, for that was not its way home. The child said, so she would, and I went through into Bartholomew Close, and then turned round to another passage that goes into St. John Street. Then crossing into Smithfield went down Chick Lane and into Field Lane to Hoborn Bridge, when, mixing with the crowd of people usually passing there, it was not possible to have been found out, and thus I enterpised my second sally into the world. The thoughts of this booty put out all the thoughts of the first, and the reflections I had made war quickly off. Poverty, as I have said, hardened my heart, and my own necessities made me regardless of anything. The last of fear left no great concern upon me. For as I did the poor child no harm, I only said to myself, I had given the parents a just reproof for their negligence, him leaving the poor little lamb to come home by itself, and it would teach them to take more care of it another time. The string of beads was worth about twelve or fourteen pounds. I suppose it might have been formerly the mother's, for it was too big for the child's wear, but that perhaps the vanity of the mother to have a child look fine at the dancing school had made her let the child wear it. And no doubt the child had a maid sent to take care of it. But she, careless Jade, was taken up perhaps with some fellow that had met her by the way, and so the poor baby wandered till it fell into my hands. However, I did the child no harm. I did not so much as fright it. For I had a great many tender thoughts about me yet, and did nothing but what, as I may say, mere necessity drove me to. I had a great many adventures after this, but I was young in the business and did not know how to manage, otherwise than as the devil put things into my head, and indeed he was seldom backward to me. One adventure I had which was very lucky to me. I was going through Lombard Street in the dusk of the evening, just by the end of Three-King Court, when on a sudden comes a fellow running by me as swift as lightning, and throws a bundle that was in his hand, just behind me, as I stood up against the corner of the house, at the turning into the alley, and just as he threw it in he said, God bless you, mistress, let it lie there a little. And away he runs, swift as the wind. After him comes two more, and immediately a young fellow without his hat crying, Stop, thief! and after him two or three more. They pursued the two last fellows so close that they were forced to drop what they had got, and one of them was taken into the bargain, and other got off free. I stood stuck still all this while, till they came back, dragging the poor fellow they had taken, and lugging the things they had found. Extremely well satisfied that they had recovered the booty and taken the thief, and thus they passed by me, for I looked only like one who stood up while the crowd was gone. Once or twice I asked what was the matter, but the people neglected answering me, and I was not very importunate. But after the crowd was wholly passed, I took my opportunity to turn about, and take up what was behind me and walk away. This indeed I did with less disturbance than I had done formally, for these things I did not steal, but they were stolen to my hand. I got safe to my lodgings with this cargo, which was a piece of fine black lustering silk, and a piece of velvet. The latter was but part of a piece of about eleven yards. The former was a whole piece of near fifty yards. It seems it was a Mercer's shop that they had rifled. I say rifled, because the goods were so considerable that they had lost. For the goods that they recovered were pretty many, and I believe came to about six or seven several pieces of silk, how they came to get so many I could not tell, but as I had only robbed the thief, I made no scruple at taking these goods, and being very glad of them too, I had pretty good luck thus far, and I made several adventures more, though with but small purchase, yet with good success. But I went and daily dread that some mischief would befall me, and that I should certainly come to be hanged at last. The impression this made on me was too strong to be slighted, and it kept me from making attempts that, for ought I knew, might have been very safely performed. But one thing I cannot omit, which was a bait to me many a day. I walked frequently out into the villages round the town, to see if nothing would fall in my way there, and going by a house near Stepney, I saw on the window-board two rings, one a small diamond ring, and the other a gold ring, to be sure laid there by some thoughtless lady that had more money than forecast, perhaps only till she washed her hands. I walked several times by the window to observe if I could see whether there was anybody in the room or no, and I could see nobody, but still I was not sure. It came presently into my thoughts to wrap at the glass, as if I wanted to speak with somebody, and if anybody was there they would be sure to come to the window, and then I would tell them to remove those rings, for that I had seen two suspicious fellows take notice of them. This was a ready thought. I rapped once or twice and nobody came, when, seeing the coast clear, I thrust hard against the square of the glass, and broke it with very little noise, and took out the two rings, and walked away with them very safe. The diamond ring was worth about three pounds, and the other about nine shillings. I was now at a loss for a market for my goods, and especially for my two pieces of silk. I was very loath to dispose of them for a trifle, as the poor unhappy thieves in general do, who, after they have entered their lives for perhaps a thing of value, have feigned to sell it for a song when they have done. But I was resolved I would not do thus, whatever shift I made, unless I was driven to the last extremity. However, I did not well know what course to take. At last I resolved to go to my old governess, and acquaint myself with her again. I had punctually supplied the five pounds a year to her, for my little boy as long as I was able. But at last was obliged to put a stop to it. However, I had written a letter to her, wherein I had told her that my circumstances were reduced very low, that I had lost my husband, and that I was not able to do it any longer, and so begged that the poor child might not suffer too much for its mother's misfortunes. I now made her a visit, and I found that she drove something of the old trade still, but that she was not in such flourishing circumstances as before, for she had been sued by a certain gentleman, who had had his daughter stolen from him, and who, it seems, she had helped to convey away, and it was very narrowly that she escaped the gallows. The expense also had ravaged her, and she was become very poor. Her house was but meanly furnished, and she was not in such repute for her practice as before. However, she stood upon her legs, as they say, and as she was a stirring, bustling woman, and had some stock left. She was turned pawnbroker, and lived pretty well. She received me very civilly, and with her usual obliging manner, told me she would not have the less respect for me, for my being reduced. That she had taken care my boy was very well looked after, though I could not pay for him, and that the woman that had him was easy, so that I needed not trouble myself about him, till I might be better able to do it effectually. I told her that I had not much money left, but that I had some things that were money's worth, if she could tell me how I might turn them into money. She asked me what it was I had. I pulled out the string of gold beads, and told her it was one of my husband's presents to me. Then I showed her the two parcels of silk, which I told her I had from Ireland, and brought up to town with me, and the little diamond ring, as to the small parcel of plate and spoons. I had found means to dispose of them myself before, and as for the child-bed linen I had, she offered me to take it herself, believing it to have been my own. She told me that she was turned pawnbroker, and that she would sell those things for me as pawn to her, and so she sent presently for proper agents that bought them. Being in her hands, without any scruple, and gave good prices too, I now began to think this necessary woman might help me a little in my low condition to some business, for I would gladly have turned my hand to any honest employment, if I could have got it. But here she was deficient. Honest business did not come within her reach. If I had been younger, perhaps she might have helped me to a spark. But my thoughts were off that kind of livelihood, as being quite out of the way after fifty, which was my case, and so I told her she invited me at last to come, and be at her house till I could find something to do, and it should cost me very little. And this I gladly accepted of. And now, living a little easier, I entered into some measures to have my little son by my last husband taken off. And there she made easy to, reserving a payment of only five pounds a year, if I could pay it. This was such a help to me, that for a good while I left off the wicked trade that I had so newly taken up, and gladly I would have got my bread by the help of my needle, if I could have got work. But that was very hard to do for one that had no manner of acquaintance in the world. However, at last I got some quilting work for ladies' beds, petticoats, and the like. And this I liked very well, and worked very hard. And with this I began to live. But the diligent devil, resolved I should continue in his service, continually prompted me to go out and take a walk. That is to say, to see if anything would offer in the old way. One evening I blindly obeyed his summons, and fetched a long circuit through the streets, what met with no purchase, and came home very wary and empty. But not content with that, I went out the next evening too. Going by an ale-house, I saw the door of a little room open, next the very street, and on the table a silver-tankard. Things much in use in public houses at that time. It seemed some company had been drinking there, and the careless boys had forgot to take it away. I went into the box, frankly, and sat in the silver-tankard on the corner of the bench. I sat down before it, and knocked with my foot. A boy came presently, and I bade him fetch me a pint of warm ale. For it was cold weather. The boy ran, and I heard him go down the cellar to draw the ale. While the boy was gone, another boy came into the room and cried, "'D. Cole?' I spoke with the melancholy air, and said, "'No, child. The boy is gone for a pint of ale for me.' While I sat here, I heard the woman in the bar say, "'Are they all gone in the five?' Which was the box I sat in, and the boy said, "'Yes. Who fetched the tankard away?' says the woman. "'I did,' says another boy. "'That's it,' pointing, it seems, to another tankard which he had fetched from another box by mistake. For else it must be that the rogue forgot that he had not brought it in, which certainly he had not. I heard all this much to my satisfaction, for I found plainly that the tankard was not missed, and yet they concluded it was fetched away. So I drank my ale, called to pay, and as I went away I said, "'Take care of your plate, child,' meaning a silver-pint mug, which he brought me drinking. The boy said, "'Yes, madam, very welcome, and away I came.' I came home to my governess, and now I thought it was a time to try her, that if I might be put to the necessity of being exposed, she might offer me some assistance. When I had been at home some time, and had an opportunity of talking to her, I told her I had a secret of the greatest consequence in the world to commit to her. If she had respect enough for me to keep it a secret, she told me she had kept one of my secrets faithfully. Why should I doubt her keeping another?' I told her the strangest thing in the world had befallen me, and that it had made a thief of me, even without any design, and so told her the whole story of the tankard. "'And have you brought it away with you, my dear?' says she. "'To be sure I have,' says I, and showed it to her. "'But what shall I do now?' says I. "'Must not carry it again?' "'Carry it again,' says she. "'I, if you are minded to be sent to Newgate for stealing it.' "'Why,' says I, "'they can't be so base to stop me when I carry it to them again.' "'You don't know those sort of people, child?' says she. "'They'll not only carry you to Newgate, but hang you, too, without any regard to the honesty of returning it, or bring in an account of all the other tankards they have lost for you to pay for.' "'What must I do, then?' says I. "'Nee,' says she, as you have played the cunning part and stole it. "'You mustine-keep it. There's no going back now.' "'Besides, child,' says she, "'don't you want it more than they do?' "'I wish you could light of such a bargain once a week.' "'This gave me a new notion of my governess, and that since she was turned pawnbroker she had a sort of people about her that were none of the honest ones that I had met with there before. I had not been long there, but I discovered it more plainly than before. For every now and then I saw hilts of swords, spoons, forks, tankards, and all such kind of wear brought in, not to be pawned, but to be sold down right. And she bought everything that came without asking any questions, but had very good bargains, as I found by her discourse. I found also that in following this trade she always melted down the plates she bought, that it might not be challenged. And she came to me and told me one morning that she was going to melt, and if I would, she would put my tankard in, that it might not be seen by anybody. I told her with all my heart. So she weighed it, and allowed me the full value in silver again. But I found she did not do the same to the rest of her customers. Some time after this, as I was at work and very melancholy, she begins to ask me what the matter was, as she was used to do. I told her my heart was heavy. I had little work, and nothing to live on, and knew not what course to take. She laughed, and told me I must go out again and try my fortune. It might be that I might meet with another piece of plate. Oh, mother! says I, that is a trade I have no skill in, and if I should be taken I am undone at once. So she, I could help you to a schoolmistress that shall make you as dexterous as herself. I trembled at that proposal. For hitherto I had had no confederates, nor any acquaintance among that tribe, but she conquered all my modesty, and all my fears. And in a little time, by the help of this confederate, I grew as impudent a thief, and as dexterous as ever mall-cut purse was, though his fame does not belie her, not half so handsome. The comrade she helped me to, dealt in three sorts of craft, viz, shoplifting, stealing of shop-books, and pocket-books, and taking off gold-watches from the lady-sides, and this last she did so dexterously, that no woman ever arrived to the performance of that art, so as to do it like her. I liked the first and the last of these things very well, and I attended her some time in the practice, just as a deputy attends a midwife, without any pay. At length she put me to practice. She had shown me her art, and I had several times unhooked a watch from her own side with great dexterity. At last she showed me a prize, and this was a young lady big with child, who had a charming watch. The thing was to be done as she came out of church. She goes on one side of the lady and pretends, just as she came to the steps, to fall, and fell against the lady with so much violence, as put her into a great fright, and both cried out terribly. In the very moment that she jostled the lady, I had hold of the watch, and holding it the right way. The start she gave drew the hook out, and she never felt it. I made off immediately, and left my school-mistress to come out of her pretended fright gradually, and the lady too, and presently the watch was missed. I, says my comrade, then it was those rogues that thrust me down, I warrant ye. I wonder the gentle woman did not miss her watch before. Then we might have taken them. She humored the thing so well, that nobody suspected her, and I was got home a full hour before her. This was my first adventure in company. The watch was indeed a very fine one, and had a great many trinkets about it, and my governess allowed us twenty pounds for it, of which I had half, and thus I was entered a complete thief, hardened to the pitch above all the reflections of conscience or modesty. And to a degree which I must acknowledge, I never thought possible in me. Thus the devil, who began, by the help of an irresistible poverty, to push me into this wickedness, brought me on to a height beyond the common rate, even when my necessities were not so great, or the prospect of my misery so terrifying. For I had now got into a little vein of work, and as I was not at a loss to handle my needle, it was very probable, as acquaintance came in, I might have got my bread honestly enough. I must say that if such a prospect of work had presented itself at first, when I began to feel the approach of my miserable circumstances, I say, had such a prospect of getting my bread by working presented itself then, I had never fallen into this wicked trade. Or into such a wicked gang as I was now embarked with, but practice had hardened me. And I grew audacious to the last degree, and the more so because I had carried it on so long, and had never been taken, for, in a word, my new partner in wickedness and I went on together so long, without being ever detected, that we not only grew bold, but we grew rich, and we had at one time one and twenty gold watches in our hands. I remember that one day being a little more serious than ordinary, and finding I had so good a stock beforehand as I had, for I had near two hundred pounds in money for my share. It came strongly into my mind, no doubt from some kind spirit, if such there be, that at first poverty excited me, and my distresses drove me to these dreadful shifts. So seeing those distresses were now relieved, and I could also get something towards a maintenance by working, and had so good a bank to support me. Why should I now not leave off, as they say, while I was well? That I could not expect to go always free, and if I was once surprised and miscarried, I was undone. This was doubtless the happy minute, when, if I had harkened to the blessed hint, from whatsoever had it came, I had still a cast for an easy life. But my fate was otherwise determined. The busy devil that so industriously drew me in had too fast hold of me to let me go back. But as poverty brought me into the mire, so avarice kept me in, till there was no going back. As to the arguments which my reason dictated for persuading me to lay down, avarice stepped in and said, Go on, go on, you have had very good luck. Go on till you have gotten four or five hundred pounds, and then you shall leave off. And then you may live easy without working at all. Thus I, that was once in the devil's clutches, was held fast there as with a charm, and had no power to go without the circle, till I was engulfed in labyrinths of trouble too great to get out at all. However, these thoughts left some impression upon me, and made me act with some more caution than before, and more than my directors used for themselves. My comrade, as I called her, but rather she should have been called my teacher, with another of her scholars, was the first in the misfortune, for happening to be upon the hunt for purchase. They made an attempt upon a linen draper in Cheapside, but were snapped by a hawkside journeyman, and seized with two pieces of cambrick, which were taken also upon them. This was enough to lodge them both in Newgate, where they had the misfortune to have some of their former sins brought to remembrance. Two other indictments being brought against them, and the facts being proved upon them. They were both condemned to die. They both pleaded their bellies, and were both voted quick with child, though my tutorous was no more with child than I was. I went frequently to see them, and condoled with them, expecting that it would be my turn next. But the place gave me so much horror, reflecting that it was the place of my unhappy birth, and of my mother's misfortunes, that I could not bear it. So I was forced to leave off going to see them. And, oh, could I have but taken warning by their disasters? I had been happy still, for I was yet free, and had nothing brought against me. But it could not be. My measure was not yet filled up.