hole prison; she has learned to eat bread and cheese and drink
porter; but she always appears once a day dressed in the pink of the
fashion. She has found means to run in debt at the chandler's shop, the
baker's, and the tap-house, though there is nothing got in this place but
with ready money. She has even borrowed small sums from divers
prisoners, who were themselves on the brink of starving. She takes
pleasure in being surrounded with duns, observing, that by such people a
person of fashion is to be distinguished. She writes circular letters to
her former friends and acquaintance, and by this method has raised pretty
considerable contributions; for she writes in a most elegant and
irresistible style. About a fortnight ago she received a supply of
twenty guineas; when, instead of paying her little jail-debts, or
withdrawing any part of her apparel from pawn, she laid out the whole sum
in a fashionable suit and laces; and next day borrowed of me a shilling
to purchase a neck of mutton for her dinner. She seems to think her rank
in life entitles her to this kind of assistance. She talks very
pompously of her family and connexions, by whom however she has been long
renounced. She has no sympathy nor compassion for the distresses of her
fellow-creatures; but she is perfectly well bred; she bears a repulse the
best of any woman I ever knew; and her temper has never been once ruffled
since her arrival at the King's Bench. She now entreated me to lend her
half-a-guinea, for which she said she had the most pressing occasion, and
promised upon her honour it should be repaid to-morrow; but I lent a deaf
ear to her request, and told her in plain terms that her honour was
already bankrupt."

Sir Launcelot, thrusting his hand mechanically into his pocket, pulled
out a couple of guineas, and desired Felton to accommodate her with that
trifle in his own name; but he declined the proposal, and refused to
touch the money. "God forbid," said he, "that I should attempt to thwart
your charitable intention; but this, my good sir, is no object--she has
many resources. Neither should we number the clamorous beggar among
those who really feel distress; he is generally gorged with bounty
misapplied. The liberal hand of charity should be extended to modest
want that pines in silence, encountering cold, nakedness, and hunger, and
every species of distress. Here you may find the wretch of keen
sensations blasted by accident in the bl