s man at fifteen, and fought
a score of battles within six years afterwards. Now, in the Fleet
Prison, where I write this, there is a small man who is always jeering
me and making game of me; who asks me to fight, and I haven't the
courage to touch him. But I am anticipating the gloomy and wretched
events of my history of humiliation, and had better proceed in order.

I took a lodging in a coffee-house near Gray's Inn; taking care to
inform Mr. Tapewell of my whereabouts, and anxiously expecting a visit
from him. He came and brought me the terms which Lady Lyndon's friends
proposed-a paltry annuity of L300 a year; to be paid on the condition of
my remaining abroad out of the three kingdoms, and to be stopped on the
instant of my return. He told me what I very well knew, that my stay
in London would infallibly plunge me in gaol; that there were writs
innumerable taken out against me here, and in the West of England; that
my credit was so blown upon that I could not hope to raise a shilling;
and he left me a night to consider of his proposal; saying that, if I
refused it, the family would proceed: if I acceded, a quarter's salary
should be paid to me at any foreign port I should prefer.

What was the poor, lonely, and broken-hearted man to do? I took the
annuity, and was declared outlaw in the course of next week. The rascal
Quin had, I found, been, after all, the cause of my undoing. It was he
devised the scheme for bringing me up to London; sealing the attorney's
letter with a seal which had been agreed upon between him and the
Countess formerly: indeed he had always been for trying the plan, and
had proposed it at first; but her Ladyship, with her inordinate love of
romance, preferred the project of elopement. Of these points my mother
wrote me word in my lonely exile, offering at the same time to come over
and share it with me; which proposal I declined. She left Castle Lyndon
a very short time after I had quitted it; and there was silence in that
hall where, under my authority, had been exhibited so much hospitality
and splendour. She thought she would never see me again, and bitterly
reproached me for neglecting her; but she was mistaken in that, and in
her estimate of me. She is very old, and is sitting by my side at this
moment in the prison, working: she has a bedroom in Fleet Market over
the way; and, with the fifty-pound annuity, which she has kept with
a wise prudence, we manage to eke out a miserable existenc