steemed me. I should have thought she would rather
have relished my escaping altogether, than being again caught."

Here ends Durand's narrative.

My father appends a note to the effect that, through the intervention of
Sir Edward Cunliffe, one of the members for Liverpool, Durand was
released from the Tower, and went to reside with Mr. P--- in Dale-street.
At the date of September following there is a memorandum to the effect
that M. Durand and Miss P--- had become man and wife, so that, as my
father quaintly adds, he supposes M. Durand had by that time found out
why it was that old P---'s niece was so glad to see him again in prison.

The House of Correction stood at the back of the present Fever Hospital,
the entrance being in Mount Pleasant. It was in Mr. Howard's time a most
miserably managed place. In 1790 it was a vile hole of iniquity. There
was a whipping-post, for instance, in the yard, at which females were
weekly in the receipt of punishment. There was also "a cuckstool," or
ducking tub, where refractory prisoners were brought to their senses, and
in which persons on their first admission into the gaol were ducked, if
they refused or could not pay "a garnish." This barbarous mode of
punishment was common in Lancashire, and Cheshire. This prison was in
the course of the following years much improved, as it was found by Mr.
Neild very clean and orderly through the exertions of Mrs. Widdows, the
keeper. Mrs. Widdow's salary was 63 pounds per annum. She had
resolutely put down the cuckstool, and the whipping-post was becoming in
a complete state of desuetude. A pump in the men's yard was used as a
place of occasional punishment for the stubborn and refractory. The
prisoners were without any instruction, secular or religious. No
chaplain attended. The allowance to each prisoner was a two-penny loaf,
two pounds of potatoes, and salt daily. I believe, from all I could
learn, that the Liverpool prisons, bad as they undoubtedly were at the
close of the last and the beginning of the present century, were in
better condition than others elsewhere.

CHAPTER III.

One of my great-grandsons--a fine young fellow, has joined the
Volunteers: and seems determined to work his way to a commission. I
cannot help smiling when I see him in his uniform, for he reminds me of
my young days, when I was a full private in Pudsey Dawson's Liverpool
Volunteers. I don't think the volunteers of this day are so
s