oney while
it lasts; and his wife never fails, while it is in her power, to relieve
the wretched; so that their generosity, even in this miserable disguise,
is universally respected by their neighbours. Sometimes the recollection
of their former rank comes over them like a qualm, which they dispel with
brandy, and then humorously rally one another on their mutual degeneracy.
She often stops me in the walk, and, pointing to the captain, says, 'My
husband, though he is become a blackguard jail-bird, must be allowed to
be a handsome fellow still.'--On the other hand, he will frequently
desire me to take notice of his rib, as she chances to pass.--'Mind that
draggle-tailed drunken drab,' he will say; 'what an antidote it is--yet,
for all that, Felton, she was a fine woman when I married her--Poor Bess,
I have been the ruin of her, that is certain, and deserve to be d--ned
for bringing her to this pass.'

"Thus they accommodate themselves to each other's infirmities, and pass
their time not without some taste of plebeian enjoyment--but, name their
child, they never fail to burst into tears, and still feel a return of
the most poignant sorrow."

Sir Launcelot Greaves did not hear this story unmoved. Tom Clarke's
cheeks were bedewed with the drops of sympathy, while, with much sobbing,
he declared his opinion, that an action should lie against the lady's
father.

Captain Crowe having listened to the story with uncommon attention,
expressed his concern that an honest seaman should be so taken in stays;
but he imputed all his calamities to the wife. "For why?" said he; "a
seafaring man may have a sweetheart in every port; but he should steer
clear of a wife, as he would avoid a quicksand.--You see, brother, how
this here Clewline lags astern in the wake of a snivelling b---h;
otherwise he would never make a weft in his ensign for the loss of a
child--odds heart! he could have done no more if he had sprung a
top-mast, or started a timber."

The knight declaring that he would take another view of the prison in the
afternoon, Mr. Felton insisted upon his doing him the honour to drink a
dish of tea in his apartment, and Sir Launcelot accepted his invitation.
Thither they, accordingly repaired, after having made another circuit of
the jail, and the tea-things were produced by Mrs. Felton, when she was
summoned to the door, and in a few minutes returning, communicated
something in a whisper to her husband. He changed colour, a