heartily as they thought proper to prompt. Thou knowest how I abhor the
taking away the life of man, instead of seeking his reformation.

After persisting that it was impossible for me to identify the person
of the highwayman, as indeed it really was, and luckily prevailing on
Sir Arthur to do the same [though he, like most folks who have any
thing to lose, was convinced it would be an excellent thing if all
rogues could be instantly hanged, like dogs, out of the way] I paid the
poor wretch a visit, privately, and gave him such a lecture as, I
should hope, he would not easily forget. It was not all censure:
soothing, reasoning, and menace were mingled. My greatest effort was to
convince him of the folly of such crimes; he had received some proof of
the danger. He was in great pain, and did not think his life quite
secure. He promised reformation with all the apparent fervour of
sincerity, prayed for me, blessed me very heartily, and praised me for
my bravery. He says the Bow Street runners will leave nothing
unattempted to secure the reward, and take away his life. I have
therefore engaged to hire a lodging, and bring a hackney coach for him
myself, at seven in the morning, the hour least likely for him to be
watched or traced. I believe I was more earnest to prevent harm
happening to him than he himself was; for, having met a man upon the
stairs, whose physiognomy, dress and appearance led me to suspect him,
I questioned my penitent, who owned it was his accomplice; a determined
fellow, according to his account; an Irish gambler, whose daring
character led him, after a run of ill luck, to this desperate resource.
It was with some difficulty I could persuade him the fellow might
betray him, and join the Bow Street people. The gambler, as he says,
expects a supply, and has promised him money. But he has consented to
leave his lodging; and I think I have convinced him of the folly,
danger, and guilt of such connections.