pearance, and I began to pluck it up by the roots. The pain at
first was considerable, especially about the lips; but this also custom
conquered, and I performed this operation in the following years, once in
six weeks, or two months, as the hair thus plucked up required that
length of time before the nails could again get hold. Vermin did not
molest me; the dampness of my den was inimical to them. My limbs never
swelled, because of the exercise I gave myself, as before described. The
greatest pain I found was in the continued unvivifying dimness in which I
lived.

I had read much, had lived in, and seen much of the world. Vacuity of
thought, therefore, I was little troubled with; the former transactions
of my life, and the remembrance of the persons I had known, I revolved so
often in my mind, that they became as familiar and connected as if the
events had each been written in the order it occurred. Habit made this
mental exercise so perfect to me, that I could compose speeches, fables,
odes, satires, all of which I repeated aloud, and had so stored my memory
with them that I was enabled, after I had obtained my freedom, to commit
to writing two volumes of my prison labours. Accustomed to this
exercise, days that would otherwise have been days of misery appeared but
as a moment. The following narrative will show how munch esteem, how
many friends, these compositions procured me, even in my dungeon;
insomuch that I obtained light, paper, and finally freedom itself. For
these I have to thank the industrious acquirements of my youth; therefore
do I counsel all my readers so to employ their time. Riches, honours,
the favours of fortune, may be showered by monarchs upon the most
worthless; but monarchs can give and take, say and unsay, raise and pull
down. Monarchs, however, can neither give wisdom nor virtue. Arbitrary
power itself, in the presence of these, is foiled.

How wisely has Providence ordained that the endowments of industry,
learning, and science, given by ourselves, cannot be taken from us;
while, on the contrary, what others bestow is a fantastical dream, from
which any accident may awaken us! The wrath of Frederic could destroy
legions, and defeat armies; but it could not take from me the sense of
honour, of innocence, and their sweet concomitant, peace of mind--could
not deprive me of fortitude and magnanimity. I defied his power, rested
on the justice of my cause, found in myself expedients w