annum (who had a ready Memory for those
Tales) used to tell me, when he first saw the Lion was half dead with
Fright. The Second View only a little Dashed him with Tremour; at the
Third he durst salute him Boldly; and at the Fourth Rencounter Monsieur
Reynard steals a Shin Bone of Beef from under the old Roarer's Nose, and
laughs at his Beard. This Fable came back to me, as with a Shrug and a
Grin (somewhat of the ruefullest) I found myself again (and for no Base
Action I aver) in a Prison Hold. I remembered what a dreadful Sickness
and Soul-sinking I had felt when doors of Oak clamped with Iron had
first clanged upon me; when I first saw the Blessed Sun made into a
Quince Tart by the cross-bars over his Golden face; when I first heard
that clashing of Gyves together which is the Death Rattle of a man's
Liberty. But now! Gaols and I were old Acquaintances. Had I not lain
long in the dismal Dungeon at Aylesbury? Had I not sweltered in the Hold
of a Transport Ship? I was but a Youth; but I felt myself by this time a
Parcel Philosopher. The first thing a man should do when he gets into
Gaol, is to ask himself whether there is any chance of his being Hanged.
If he have no Sand Blindness, or Gossamer dancing of Threepenny cord
before his eyes, why then he had e'en better eat and drink, and Thank
God, and hope for the Best. "They won't Hang me," I said cheerfully
enough to myself, when I was well laid up in Limbo. The Empress is well
known to be a merciful Lady, and will cast the ermine of Mercy over the
Scarlet Robe of Stern Authority. Perhaps I shall get my Ribs basted.
What of that? Flesh is flesh, and will Heal. They cannot beat me so
sorely as I have seen done (but never of myself Ordered but when I was
compelled) to Negro Slaves. If they fine me, my Master must Pay. Here I
am by the Heels, and until I get out again what use is there in
Fretting? Lady Fortune has played me a scurvy trick; but may she not
to-morrow play as roguish a one to the Sheepfaced old Chamber Lord with
the golden Key, or any other smart Pink-an-eye Dandiprat that hangs
about the Court? The Spoke which now is highest in her Wheel may, when
she gives it the next good Twist, be undermost as Nock. So I took
Courage, and bade Despair go Swing for a dried Yeoman Sprat as he is.

I being a Servant, and so unjustly accounted of Base Degree by these
Sour-Cabbage gorging and Sourer-Beer swilling High Dutch Bed-Pressers,
was put into the Common Ward with the R