run the whole length of the street before I could overtake him, and get
one of the hand-bills. On reading it, I could have no doubt that it
was really the last dying speech of my old enemy Clarke. His birth,
parentage, and every circumstance, convinced me of the truth. Amongst
other things in his confession, I came to a plan he had laid to murder a
poor lad in the tin-mine, where he formerly worked; 'and he thanked God
that this plan was never executed, as the boy providentially disappeared
the very night on which the murder was to have been perpetrated. He
further set forth that, after being turned away by his master, and
obliged to fly from Cornwall, he came up to London, and worked as
a coal-heaver for a little while, but soon became what is called a
_mud-lark_; that is, a plunderer of the ships' cargoes that unload in
the Thames. He plied this abominable trade for some time, drinking every
day to the value of what he stole, till, in a quarrel at an ale-house
about the division of some articles to be sold to a receiver of stolen
goods, he struck the woman of the house a blow, of which she died; and,
as it was proved that he had long-borne her malice for some old dispute,
Clarke was on his trial brought in guilty of wilful murder, and
sentenced to be hanged.

"I shuddered whilst I read all this.--To such an end, after the utmost
his cunning could do, was this villain brought at last! How thankful
I was that I did not continue his associate I in my boyish days! My
gratitude to my good master increased upon the reflection that it was
his humanity which had raised me from vice and misery, to virtue and
happiness. We sailed from the Downs the 20th of March, one thousand
seven hundred and.... But why I tell you this I do not know; except it
be in compliance with the custom of all voyagers, who think that it is
important to the world to know on what day they sailed from this or that
port. I shall not, however, imitate them in giving you a journal of