overdrew my account three-and-sixpence:
woodn't advance me five thousand on 25,000 worth of scrip; kep me
waiting 2 hours when I asked to see the house; and then sent out
Spout, the jewnior partner, saying they wouldn't discount my paper,
and implawed me to clothes my account. I did: I paid the three-and-six
balliance, and never sor 'em mor.

"The market fell daily. The Rewin grew wusser and wusser. Hagnies,
Hagnies! it wasn't in the city aloan my misfortns came upon me. They
beerded me in my own ome. The biddle who kips watch at the Halbany wodn
keep misfortn out of my chambers; and Mrs. Twiddler, of Pall Mall, and
Mr. Hunx, of Long Acre, put egsicution into my apartmince, and swep off
every stick of my furniture. 'Wardrobe & furniture of a man of fashion.'
What an adwertisement George Robins DID make of it; and what a crowd was
collected to laff at the prospick of my ruing! My chice plait; my seller
of wine; my picturs--that of myself included (it was Maryhann, bless
her! that bought it, unbeknown to me); all--all went to the ammer. That
brootle Fitzwarren, my ex-vally, womb I met, fimilliarly slapt me on the
sholder, and said, 'Jeames, my boy, you'd best go into suvvis aginn.'

"I DID go into suvvis--the wust of all suvvices--I went into the Queen's
Bench Prison, and lay there a misrabble captif for 6 mortial weeks.
Misrabble shall I say? no, not misrabble altogether; there was sunlike
in the dunjing of the pore prisner. I had visitors. A cart used to drive
hup to the prizn gates of Saturdays; a washywoman's cart, with a fat old
lady in it, and a young one. Who was that young one? Every one who has
an art can gess, it was my blue-eyed blushing hangel of a Mary Hann!
'Shall we take him out in the linnen-basket, grandmamma?' Mary Hann
said. Bless her, she'd already learned to say grandmamma quite natral:
but I didn't go out that way; I went out by the door a whitewashed man.
Ho, what a feast there was at Healing the day I came out! I'd thirteen
shillings left when I'd bought the gold ring. I wasn't prowd. I turned
the mangle for three weeks; and then Uncle Bill said, 'Well, there IS
some good in the feller;' and it was agreed that we should marry."

The Plush manuscript finishes here: it is many weeks since we saw the
accomplished writer, and we have only just learned his fate. We are
happy to state that it is a comfortable and almost a prosperous one.

The Honorable and Right Reverend Lionel Thistlewood, Lord Bisho