keeper. I was questioned respecting my method of proceeding; and, as I
believed concealment could lead to nothing but a severer search, and a
more accurate watch, I readily acquainted them with the exact truth. The
illustrious personage, whose functions it was to control the inhabitants
of these walls, was, by this last instance, completely exasperated
against me. Artifice and fair speaking were at an end. His eyes sparkled
with fury; he exclaimed, that he was now convinced of the folly of
showing kindness to rascals, the scum of the earth, such as I was; and,
damn him, if any body should catch him at that again towards any one. I
had cured him effectually! He was astonished that the laws had not
provided some terrible retaliation for thieves that attempted to deceive
their jailors. Hanging was a thousand times too good for me!

Having vented his indignation, he proceeded to give such orders as the
united instigations of anger and alarm suggested to his mind. My
apartment was changed. I was conducted to a room called the strong room,
the door of which opened into the middle cell of the range of dungeons.
It was under-ground, as they were, and had also the day-room for felons,
already described, immediately over it. It was spacious and dreary. The
door had not been opened for years; the air was putrid; and the walls
hung round with damps and mildew. The fetters, the padlock, and the
staple, were employed, as in the former case, in addition to which they
put on me a pair of handcuffs. For my first provision, the keeper sent
me nothing but a bit of bread, mouldy and black, and some dirty and
stinking water. I know not indeed whether this is to be regarded as
gratuitous tyranny on the part of the jailor; the law having providently
directed, in certain cases, that the water to be administered to the
prisoners shall be taken from "the next sink or puddle nearest to the
jail."[E] It was further ordered, that one of the turnkeys should sleep
in the cell that formed a sort of anti-chamber to my apartment. Though