ken from my Bundle, and returns them to me with a Grin, telling me
that it was long since his Body had felt need of the one or his Soul of
the other. And yet I think they would have profited considerably
(pending a Right Cord) by the application of Both. So I in a corner, to
moan and whimper at my Distressed condition.

A sad Sunday I spent in the Clink,--'twas on the Monday we were to
start,--although, to some other of my companions, the Time passed
jovially enough. For very many of the Relations and Friends of the
Detained Persons came to visit them, bringing them money, victuals,
clothing, and other Refreshments. 'Twas on this day I heard that one of
us, who was cast for Forgery, had been offered a Free Pardon if he could
lodge Five Hundred Pounds in the hands of a Person who had Great
Influence near a Great Man.

Late on the Sunday afternoon, Sir Basil Hopwood came down in his coach,
and with his chaplain attendant on him. We Convicts were all had to the
Grate, for the Knight and Alderman would not venture further in, for
fear of the Gaol Fever; and he makes us a Fine Speech about the King's
Mercy,--which I deny not,--and his own Infinite Goodness in providing
for us in a Foreign Land. The which I question. Then he told us how we
were to be very civil and obedient on the voyage to those who were set
over us, refraining from cursing, swearing, gaming, or singing of
profane songs, on pain of immediate and smart chastisement; and having
said this, and the chaplain having given us his Benediction, he gat him
gone, and we were rid of so much Rapacious and Luxurious Hypocrisy. We
lay in the yard that night, wrapped in such extra Garments as some of us
were Fortunate enough to have; and I sobbed myself to sleep, wishing, I
well remember, that it might never be Day again, but that my Sorrows
might all be closed in by the Merciful Curtain of Eternal Night.

So on the Monday morning we were driven down--a body of Sir Basil
Hopwood's own company of the Trainbands guarding us--to Shayler's
Stairs, near unto the church of St. Mary Overy; and there--we were in
number about a hundred--put on board a Hoy, which straightway, the tide
being toward, bore down the river for Gravesend.

By this time I found that, almost insensibly, as it were, I had become
separated from my old companions the Blacks, and that I was more than
ever Alone. The greatest likelihood is, that Authority deemed it
advisable to break up, for good and all, the