which he was not at liberty to discover. And he
assured me that it was with the greatest difficulty he found me, in
consequence of a direction left for him at his lodgings at Wapping.

I was rejoiced beyond measure at this account of his good fortune; and,
at his desire, recounted all the adventures that had happened to
me since we parted. When he understood the particulars of Strap's
attachment to me, he squeezed his hand very cordially, and promised to
make a man of him; then, giving me ten guineas for my present occasion,
took a direction for the tailor who arrested me, and went away in order
to discharge the debt, telling me at parting, that he would soon fetch
up all my leeway with a wet sail.

I was utterly confounded at this sudden transition, which affected me
more than any reverse I had formerly felt; and a crowd of incoherent
ideas rushed so impetuously upon my imagination, that my reason could
neither separate nor connect them; when Strap, whose joy had manifested
itself in a thousand fool-cries, came into my room with his shaving
utensils, and without any previous intimation, began to lather my beard,
whistling with great emotion all the while. I started from my reverie,
and, being too well acquainted with Strap to trust myself in his hands
while he was under such agitation, desired to be excused, sent for
another barber, and suffered myself to be trimmed. Having performed
the ceremony of ablution, I shifted, and dressing in my gayest apparel,
waited for the return of my uncle, who was agreeably surprised at my
sudden transformation.

This beneficent kinsman had satisfied my creditor, and obtained an order
for my discharge, so that I was no longer a prisoner; but, as I had some
reluctance to part with my friends and fellows in distress, I prevailed
upon Mr. Bowling to favour us with his company, and invited Mr. Melopoyn
and Jackson to spend the evening at my apartment, where I regaled them
with a supper, good wine, and the news of my release, on which they
heartily congratulated me, notwithstanding the loss of my company,
which, they were pleased to say, they should severely feel. As for
Jackson, his misfortune made so little impression on himself, and he was
altogether so loose, indifferent, and indiscreet, that I could scarce
pity his situation: but I had conceived a veneration and friendship
for the poet, who was, in all respects, an object much more worthy
of compassion and regard. When our guests with