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to tell to what parish I belonged, or where I was born, so they sent me to another parish, and that par. ish sent me to a third. I thought in my heart, they kept sending me about so long that they would not iet me be born in any parish at all; but at last, however, they fixed me. I had some disposition to be a scholar, and was resolved, at least, to know my letters; but the master of the workhouse put me to business as soon as I was able to handle a mallet; and here I lived an easy kind of life for five years.

I only wrought ten hours in the day, and had my meat and drink provided for my labour. It is true, I was not suffered to stir out of the house, for fear, as they said, I should run away; but what of that, I had the liberty of the whole house, and the yard before the door, and that was enough for me. I was then bound out to a farmer, where I was up both early and late; but I ate and drank well, and liked my business well enough, till he died, when I was obliged to provide for myself; so I was resolved to go seek my fortune.

. In this manner I went from town to town, worked when I could get employment, and starved when I could get none : when happening one day to go through a field belonging to a justice of peace, I spy'd a hare crossing the path just before me; and I believe the devil put it into my head to fling my stick at it: well, what will you have on 't? I killed the hare, and was bringing it away, when the justice himself met me; he called me a poacher and a villain; and, collaring me, desired I would give an account of myself. I fell upon my knees, begged his worship's pare don, and began to give a full account of all that I knew of my breed, seed, and generation; but, though

I gave a very true account, the justice said I could give no account; so I was indicted at' sessions,

found guilty of being poor, and sent up to London to Newgate, in order to be transported as a vagabond,

· People may say this and that of being in jail, but, for my part, I found Newgate as a. greeable a place as ever I was in in all my life. I had my belly-full to eat and drink, and did no work at all. This kind of life was too good to last for ever; so I was taken out of prison, after five months, part on board a ship, and sent off, with two hundred more, to the plantations. We had but an indifferent pas. sage, for being all confined in the hold, more than a hundred of our people died for want of sweet ait; and those that remained were sickly enough, Gd knows. When we came a-shore, we were sold 20 the planters, and I was bound for seven years more, As I was no scholar, for I did not know my letters, I was obliged to work among the negroes; and I serg. ed out my time, as in duty bound to do.

• When my time was expired, I worked my passage home, and glad I was to see Old England again, because I loved my country. I was afraid, however, that I should be indicted for a vagabond once more, so I did not much care to go down into the country but kept about the town, and did little jobs when I could get them. I was very happy in this manner for some time, till one evening, coming home from work, two men knocked me down, and then desired me to stand. They belonged to a press-gang: I was carried before the justice, and, as I could give no account of myself, I had my choice left, whether to'go on board a man of war, or list for a soldier: I 'chose the latter; and in this post of a gentleman, I served two campaigns in Flanders, was at the battles of Val and Fontenoy, and received but one wound, through the breast here; but the doctor of our regiment soon made me well again.

· When the peace came on I was discharged; and, as I could not work, because my wound was sometimes trouble. some, I listed for a landman in the East India como pany's service. I have fought the French in six pitched battles; and I verily believe that, if I could read


or write, our captain would have made me a corpor

But it was not my good fortune to have any promotion, for I soon fell sick, and so got leave to return home again with forty pounds in my pocket, This was at the beginning of the present war, and I hoped to be set on shore, and to have the pleasure of spending my money; but the government wanted men, and so I was pressed for a sailor before ever I could set foot on shore.

• The boatswain found me, as he said, an obstinate fellow: he swore he knew that I understood my business well, but that I shammed Abraham, to be idle; but, God knows, I knew nothing of sea-business, and he beat me, without considering what he was about. I had still, howe ever, my forty pounds, and that was some comfort to me under every beating; and the money I might have had to this day, but that our ship was taken by the French, and so I lost all.

Our crew was carried into Brest, and many of them died, because they were not used to live in a jail; but, for my part it was tothing to me, for I was seasoned. One night, as I was asleep on the bed of boards, with a warm blank. et about me, for I always loved to lie well, I was awakened by the boatswain, who had a dark lanthorn in his hand: • Jack,' says he to me, will you knock out the French centry's brains ? I don't care,' says I, striving to keep myself awake, if I lend a hand.' • Then follow me,' says he, and I hope we shall do .business.' So up I got, and tied my blanket, which was all the cloaths I had, about my middle, and went with him to fight the Frenchmen. I hate the French, because they are all slaves, and wear wooden shoes.

Though we had no arms, one Englishman is able to beat five French at any time; so we went down to the door, where both the centries were posted, and, fushing upon them, seized their arms in a moment, and knocked them down. From thence nine of us rán together to the quay, and seizing the first boat we met,

by the

got out of the harbour, and put to sea. We had not been here three days before we were taken up Dorset privateer, who were glad of so many good hands, and we consented to run our chance. Но, ever, we had not as much luck as we expected. In three days we fell in with the Pompadour privateer, of forty guns, while we had but twenty-three; so to it we went, yard-arm and yard-arm. The fight lasted for three hours, and I verily believe we should have taken the Frenchman, had we but had some more men left behind; but, unfortunately, we lost all our men just as we were going to get the victory.

I was once more in the power of the French, and I believe it would have gone hard with me had I been brought back to Brest; but, by good fortune we were retaken by the Viper. I had almost forgot to tell you, that, in that engagement, I was wounded in two places; I lost four fingers off the left hand, and my leg was shot off. If I had had the good fortune te have lost my leg and use of my hand on board a king's ship, and not a-board a privateer, I should have been entitled to cloathing and maintenance during the rest of my life, but that was not my chance : one man is born with a silver spoon in his mouth, and another with a wooden ladle. However, blessed be God, I enjoy good health, and will for ever love liberty and Old England. Liberty, property, and Old England for ever, huzza!'

Thus saying, he limped off, leaving me ir ad. miration at his intrepidity and content; nor could I avoid acknowledging, that an habitual acquaintance with misery serves better than philosophy to teach us to despise it.

A sot is a silly fellow without brains. His sight is best when he is stone blind, for till then he can never find his way home. He is a post-boy's horn to alarm a quiet neighbourhood at the unseasonable hour of one in the morning; a brewer's pump to keep store cellars dry. He is a lawyer, for he understands conveyancing extremely well. Although he scarcely knows what a pulpit means, yet he is a most religious fellow, for the name of God is ever at his tongue's end; and he is particularly careful to teach his family the duty of fasting. He is a bare-footed carmelite, for vou seldom see him with a pair of shoes to his feet. His frugality is remarkable, for a shirt always lasts him a ponth without washing, and a pair of stockings till they are worn out. His tailor is Jack Ketch, or his Grace of Monmouth, to one or other of whom he

applies, as often as he can afford it, for a left off suit. Strangers frequently mistake him for a few, because of his beard. In his draughts he is a camel. He is the wonderful camelion, which is never seen to eat. He is terribly afflicted with various distempers; bem ing frequently seized with the falling sickness at inidnight, accompanied with a dead palsy in his tongue: St. Anthony's fire has visibly settled in bis face, and so terribly does the ague shake his hand, that he cannot lift a glass of gin to his head. The pawn-broker is his banker, and the publican his chief creditor. İn short, while he is alive, he is worthy any person's notirce, but after his death, there will be no traces found of his memory, except on the chalked walls of alehouses.

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