dvice as to the choice of an appeal:
'Whatever people seem to want, give it them largely in your address to
them. Call the beau sweet Gentleman; bless even his coat or periwig; and
tell him they are happy ladies where he's going. If you meet with a
schoolboy captain, such as our streets are full of, call him noble
general; and if the miser can be in any way got to strip himself of a
farthing, it will be by the name of charitable Sir.... If you meet a
sorrowful countenance with a red coat, be sure the wearer is a disbanded
officer. Let a female always attack him, and tell him she is the widow
of a poor marine, who had served twelve years, and then broke his heart
because he was turned out without a penny. If you meet a homely but
dressed-up lady, pray for her lovely face, and beg a penny.'
After his election as King of the Gipsies, or King of the Beggars, as he
is more often called, Carew was soon involved in fresh adventures. But
one day grey ill-luck looked his way; he was arrested and sent for trial
to Exeter. Courage and audacity never failed him, for when the Chairman
of Quarter Sessions announced that the prisoner was to be transported to
a country which he pronounced _Merry_land, Carew calmly criticised his
pronunciation, and said he thought that _Mary_land would be more
correct. To Maryland he was sent in charge of a brutal sea-captain, and
on his arrival, burdened with a heavy iron collar riveted round his
neck, was set to all sorts of drudgery. Before very long he contrived to
escape into the forests, and after some danger from wild beasts he
reached a tribe of friendly Indians, who received him with great
kindness. Later he stole a canoe, and, returning to civilized regions,
posed as a kidnapped Quaker, in which character he succeeded in gaining
the compassion of Whitefield, the great preacher, who gave him 'three or
four pounds of that county paper money.' By the help of several
ingenious ruses he was able to get home again, and soon afterwards,
aided by a turban, a long, loose robe, and flowing beard, appeared as a
destitute Greek, whose 'mute silence, his dejected countenance, a sudden
tear that now and then flowed down his cheek,' touched the hearts of the
benevolent. In an unlucky moment he was impressed for the navy; next
travelled in Russia, Poland, Sweden, and other countries, but, returning
to England, was again seized, put in irons, and transported. With his
usual indomitable spirit and resource, he
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