reports, and I left the court with a comfortable sense of being
universally regarded as a sort of monster. Next day comes to me a
friend of mine, the governor of a large prison. 'Why did you ever
go to the Police-Office against that man,' says he, 'without coming
to me first? I know all about him and his frauds. He lodged in
the house of one of my warders, at the very time when he first
wrote to you; and then he was eating spring-lamb at eighteen-pence
a pound, and early asparagus at I don't know how much a bundle!'
On that very same day, and in that very same hour, my injured
gentleman wrote a solemn address to me, demanding to know what
compensation I proposed to make him for his having passed the night
in a 'loathsome dungeon.' And next morning an Irish gentleman, a
member of the same fraternity, who had read the case, and was very
well persuaded I should be chary of going to that Police-Office
again, positively refused to leave my door for less than a
sovereign, and, resolved to besiege me into compliance, literally
'sat down' before it for ten mortal hours. The garrison being well
provisioned, I remained within the walls; and he raised the siege
at midnight with a prodigious alarum on the bell.

The Begging-Letter Writer often has an extensive circle of
acquaintance. Whole pages of the 'Court Guide' are ready to be
references for him. Noblemen and gentlemen write to say there
never was such a man for probity and virtue. They have known him
time out of mind, and there is nothing they wouldn't do for him.
Somehow, they don't give him that one pound ten he stands in need
of; but perhaps it is not enough - they want to do more, and his
modesty will not allow it. It is to be remarked of his trade that
it is a very fascinating one. He never leaves it; and those who
are near to him become smitten with a love of it, too, and sooner