upon sheriff's officers.
And thus his poor skill grew poorer: forgetting his trade, he expected
that brandy would ease his embarrassment. At last, sodden with drink,
he enlisted in the Guards, from which regiment he deserted, only to be
pressed aboard a man-of-war. Freed by a clever trick, he took to the
road again, until a paltry theft from a barber transported him to
Maryland. There he turned sailor, and his ship, The Two Sisters, being
taken by a privateer, he contrived to scramble into Portugal, whence he
made his way back to England, and to the only adventure of which he was
master. He landed with no more money than the price of a pistol, but
he prigged a prancer at Bristol horsefair, and set out upon his last
journey. The tide of his fortune was at flood. He crammed his pockets
with watches; he was owner of enough diamonds to set up shop in a
fashionable quarter; of guineas he had as many as would support his
magnificence for half a year; and at last he resolved to quit the road,
and to live like the gentleman he was. To this prudence he was the more
easily persuaded, because not only were the thief-takers eager for
his capture, but he was a double-dyed deserter, whose sole chance of
quietude was a decent obscurity.

His resolution was taken at St. Albans, and over a comfortable dinner
he pictured a serene and uneventful future. On the morrow he would set
forth to Dublin, sell his handsome stock of jewels, and forget that the
cart ever lumbered up Tyburn Hill. So elated was he with his growing
virtue, that he called for a second bottle, and as the port heated
his blood his fingers tingled for action. A third bottle proved beyond
dispute that only the craven were idle; 'and why,' he exclaimed,
generous with wine, 'should the most industrious ruffler of England
condescend to inaction?' Instantly he summoned the ostler, screaming
for his horse, and before Redburn he had emptied four pockets, and
had exchanged his own tired jade for a fresh and willing beast. Still
exultant in his contempt of cowardice, he faced the Warrington stage,
and made off with his plunder at a drunken gallop. Arrived at Dunstable,
he was so befogged with liquor and pride, that he entered the 'Bull
Inn,' the goal of the very coach he had just encountered. He had scarce
called for a quartern of brandy when the robbed passengers thronged into
the kitchen; and the fright gave him enough sobriety to leave his glass
untasted, and stagger to his hor