"Why should we quarrel for riches?"

Paul repaired to his customary avocations.

In the third week of our hero's captivity Tomlinson communicated to him a
plan of escape that had occurred to his sagacious brain. In the yard
appropriated to the amusements of the gentlemen "misdemeaning," there was
a water-pipe that, skirting the wall, passed over the door through which
every morning the pious captives passed in their way to the chapel. By
this Tomlinson proposed to escape; for to the pipe which reached from the
door to the wall, in a slanting and easy direction, there was a sort of
skirting-board; and a dexterous and nimble man might readily, by the help
of this board, convey himself along the pipe, until the progress of that
useful conductor (which was happily very brief) was stopped by the summit
of the wall, where it found a sequel in another pipe, that descended to
the ground on the opposite side of the wall. Now, on this opposite side
was the garden of the prison; in this garden was a watchman, and this
watchman was the hobgoblin of Tomlinson's scheme,--"For suppose us safe
in the garden," said he, "what shall we do with this confounded fellow?"

"But that is not all," added Paul; "for even were there no watchman,
there is a terrible wall, which I noted especially last week, when we
were set to work in the garden, and which has no pipe, save a
perpendicular one, that a man must have the legs of a fly to be able to
climb!"

"Nonsense!" returned Tomlinson; "I will show you how to climb the
stubbornest wall in Christendom, if one has but the coast clear. It is
the watchman, the watchman, we must--"