from a cutlass across his nose; "a sharp-looking
fellow like that has a story if he will only tell it."

"And you may see," cried another, "that we are above petty prejudices
here; roguery only lies heavy on the conscience that conceals it." The
speaker was a tall, sallow man, with singularly intelligent features;
he had been a Jesuit tutor in the family of an Italian noble, and after
consigning his patron to the Inquisition, had been himself banished from
Rome.

Pressing entreaties and rough commands, half imperious instances and
very seductive glances, all were directed towards me, with the object of
extorting some traits of my life, and more particularly of that part of
it which concerned my birth and parentage. If the example of the company
invited the most unqualified candor, I cannot say that it overcame
certain scruples I felt about revealing my humble origin. I was
precisely in that anomalous position in life when such avowals are most
painful. Without ambition, the confession had not cost me any sacrifice;
while, on the other hand, I had not attained that eminence which has a
proud boastfulness in saying, "Yes, I, such as you see me now,--great,
titled, wealthy, and powerful,--I was the son of a newsvender or a
lamplighter." Such avowals, highly lauded as they are by the world,
especially when made by archbishops or chancellors, or other great folk,
at public dinners, are, to my thinking, about as vainglorious bits of
poor human nature as the most cynical could wish to witness. They are
the mere victories of vanity over self-esteem. Now, I had no objection
that the world should think me a young gentleman of the very
easiest notions of right and wrong, with a conscience as elastic as
gutta-percha, picking my way across life's stream on the stepping-stones
made by other men's skulls,--being, as the phrase has it, a very loose
fish indeed; but I insisted on their believing that I was well-born.
Every one has his weakness,--this was Con Cregan's; and as these
isolated fissures in strong character are nearly allied with strength,
so was it with me: had I not had this frailty, I had never cherished so
intensely the passion to become a gentleman. This is all digressionary;
but I 'll not ask pardon of my dear reader for all that. If he be
reading in his snug, well-cushioned chair, with every appliance of ease
about him, he'll not throw down these "Confessions" for a bit of prosing
that invites the sleep that is alread