of _lying_ for your defense. You say that
you paid me four dollars per week for your board and lodging,
during the time you were with me, prior to the first of June
last; which was the day that I went up, by your order, to
bring you to York, from New Rochelle. It is fortunate for me
that I have a living evidence that saw you give me five
guineas, and no more, in my shop, at your departure at that
time; but you said you would have given me more, but that you
had no more with you at present. You say, also, that you found
your own liquors during the time you boarded with me; but you
should have said, 'I found only a small part of the liquor I
drank during my stay with you; this part I purchased of John
Fellows, which was a demi-john of brandy, containing four
gallons,' and this did not serve you three weeks. This can be
proved, and I mean not to say anything I can not prove, for I
hold truth as a precious jewel. It is a well-known fact that
you drank one quart of brandy per day, at my expense, during
the different times you boarded with me; the demi-john above
mentioned excepted, and the last fourteen weeks you were sick.
Is not this a supply of liquor for dinner and supper." * * *
"I have often wondered that a French woman and three children
should leave France and all their connections, to follow
Thomas Paine to America. Suppose I were to go to my native
country, England, and take another man's wife and three
children of his, and leave my wife and children in this
country, what would be the natural conclusion in the minds of
the people, but that there was some criminal connection
between the woman and myself?"[61]

The death of this man was horrible.

The Philadelphia _Presbyterian_ says: "There is now in Philadelphia a
lady who saw Paine on his dying-bed. She informs us that Paine's
physician also attended her father's family in the city of New York,
where in her youth she resided, and that on one occasion whilst at their
house, he proposed to her to accompany him to the Infidel's dwelling,
which she did. It was a miserable hovel in what was then Raisin Street.
She had often seen Paine before, a drunken profligate, wandering about
the streets, from whom the children always fled in terror. On entering
his room she found him stretched on his miserable bed. His visage was
lean and hagga