expostulate; fetters, and bread and water, were the sure consequences of
resistance. Their tyranny had no other limit than their own caprice. To
whom shall the unfortunate felon appeal? To what purpose complain, when
his complaints are sure to be received with incredulity? A tale of
mutiny and necessary precaution is the unfailing refuge of the keeper,
and this tale is an everlasting bar against redress.

Our dungeons were cells, 7-1/2 feet by 6-1/2, below the surface of the
ground, damp, without window, light, or air, except from a few holes
worked for that purpose in the door. In some of these miserable
receptacles three persons were put to sleep together.[D] I was fortunate
enough to have one to myself. It was now the approach of winter. We
were not allowed to have candles, and, as I have already said, were
thrust in here at sunset, and not liberated till the returning day. This
was our situation for fourteen or fifteen hours out of the
four-and-twenty. I had never been accustomed to sleep more than six or
seven hours, and my inclination to sleep was now less than ever. Thus
was I reduced to spend half my day in this dreary abode, and in complete
darkness. This was no trifling aggravation of my lot.

[Footnote D: See Howard on Prisons.]

Among my melancholy reflections I tasked my memory, and counted over the
doors, the locks, the bolts, the chains, the massy walls, and grated
windows, that were between me and liberty. "These," said I, "are the
engines that tyranny sits down in cold and serious meditation to invent.
This is the empire that man exercises over man. Thus is a being, formed
to expatiate, to act, to smile, and enjoy, restricted and benumbed. How
great must be his depravity or heedlessness, who vindicates this scheme
for changing health and gaiety and serenity, into the wanness of a