h
rigorous confinement indispensably needful, not merely for the
punishment of the offender, but for the safety of society. Fantom,
from mere trick and habit, was just preparing a speech on
benevolence, and the cruelty of imprisonment; for he had a set of
sentiments collected from the new philosophy which he always kept by
him. The naming a man in power brought out the ready cut and dried
phrase against oppression. The idea of rank included every vice,
that of poverty every virtue; and he was furnished with all the
invectives against the cruelty of laws, punishments, and prisons,
which the new lexicon has produced. But his mechanical benevolence
was suddenly checked; the recollection of his old port and his new
spoons cooled his ardor, and he went on without saying a word.

When they reached the cell where the unhappy William was confined,
they stopped at the door. The poor wretch had thrown himself on the
ground, as well as his chains would permit. He groaned piteously,
and was so swallowed up with a sense of his own miseries, that he
neither heard the door open nor saw the gentlemen. He was attempting
to pray, but in an agony which made his words hardly intelligible.
Thus much they could make out--"God be merciful to me a sinner, the
chief of sinners!" then, suddenly attempting to start up, but
prevented by his irons, he roared out, "O, God! thou canst _not_ be
merciful to me, for I have denied thee; I have ridiculed my Saviour
who died for me; I have broken his laws; I have derided his word; I
have resisted his Spirit; I have laughed at that heaven which is
shut against me; I have denied the truth of those torments which
await me. To-morrow! to-morrow! O for a longer space for repentance!
O for a short reprieve from hell!"

Mr. Trueman wept so loud that it drew the attention of the criminal,
who now lifted up his eyes, and cast on his late master a look so
dreadful that Fantom wished for a moment that he had given up all
hope of the spoons, rather than have exposed himself to such a
scene. At length the poor wretch said, in a low voice that would
have melted a heart of stone, "O, sir, are you there? I did indeed
wish to see you before my dreadful sentence is put in execution. O,
sir, to-morrow! to-morrow! But I have a confession to make to you."
This revived Mr. Fantom, who again ventured to glance a hope at the
spoons. "Sir," said William, "I could not die without making my
confession." "Ay, and restitution, too,