ven me for repentance, and have
employed it as such, but it was not in me. I was sorry (as before) for
being in Newgate, but had very few signs of repentance about me.

On the contrary, like the waters in the cavities and hollows of
mountains, which petrify and turn into stone whatever they are suffered
to drop on, so the continual conversing with such a crew of hell-hounds
as I was, had the same common operation upon me as upon other people.
I degenerated into stone; I turned first stupid and senseless, then
brutish and thoughtless, and at last raving mad as any of them were;
and, in short, I became as naturally pleased and easy with the place,
as if indeed I had been born there.

It is scarce possible to imagine that our natures should be capable of
so much degeneracy, as to make that pleasant and agreeable that in
itself is the most complete misery. Here was a circumstance that I
think it is scarce possible to mention a worse: I was as exquisitely
miserable as, speaking of common cases, it was possible for any one to
be that had life and health, and money to help them, as I had.

I had weight of guilt upon me enough to sink any creature who had the
least power of reflection left, and had any sense upon them of the
happiness of this life, of the misery of another; then I had at first
remorse indeed, but no repentance; I had now neither remorse nor
repentance. I had a crime charged on me, the punishment of which was
death by our law; the proof so evident, that there was no room for me
so much as to plead not guilty. I had the name of an old offender, so
that I had nothing to expect but death in a few weeks' time, neither
had I myself any thoughts of escaping; and yet a certain strange
lethargy of soul possessed me. I had no trouble, no apprehensions, no
sorrow about me, the first surprise was gone; I was, I may well say, I
know not how; my senses, my reason, nay, my conscience, were all
asleep; my course of life for forty years had been a horrid
complication of wickedness, whoredom, adultery, incest, lying, theft;
and, in a word, everything but murder and treason had been my practice
from the age of eighteen, or thereabouts, to three-score; and now I was
engulfed in the misery of punishment, and had an infamous death just at
the door, and yet I had no sense of my condition, no thought of heaven
or hell at least, that went any farther than a bare flying touch, like
the stitch or pain that gives a hint and goes o