imagine. You do not possess the power of reflection, no not you. I
grin and joke; but afterwards I reflect. Every low-born clown can
stamp and roar, as we do here. Grant a little more real
cheerfulness, a spark more of charity, a bit more faith in the
blessing of heaven;--what do you imagine that all this would be a
sign of?" "Now, that I also reflect," replied one, "I fancy it
would be a sign of being a little less of a brute."

"Bravo!" cried his leader, in a most stentorian howl! "now I begin
to have some hope of you."

I was not overproud at being thus rated a LITTLE LESS OF A BRUTE
than the rest; yet I felt a sort of pleasure that these wretched men
had come to some agreement as to the importance of cultivating, in
some degree, more benevolent sentiments.

I again approached the window, the chief called me, and I answered,
hoping that I might now moralise with him in my own way. I was
deceived; vulgar minds dislike serious reasoning; if some noble
truth start up, they applaud for a moment, but the next withdraw
their notice, or scruple not to attempt to shine by questioning, or
aiming to place it in some ludicrous point of view.

I was next asked if I were imprisoned for debt?

"Perhaps you are paying the penalty of a false oath, then?"

"No, it is quite a different thing."

"An affair of love, most likely, I guess?"