give him something to drink. While they were drinking a
glass, the steward advised him to make application to the squire.
Presently after, he came out, and Mr. Carew soon began his attack upon
him. Pray, who are you? said the justice. I am a poor unfortunate West
Indian, replied he, who has been shipwrecked on the coast of Ireland, and
was taken up by a Bristol ship. Ay, ay, you are one of Carew's gang, I
suppose, said the justice, but he is transported. Bless your honour,
returned he, I am no impostor; I have heard that he was a very great one,
and I think deserved more than transportation. Well, well, there's a
shilling for you, replied the justice, and go about your business.

From hence he steered towards Mr. Oxenham's, at New-house: when he came
near the house, he pulled off his shirt, and gave it to an old man he
met, as though he had been amazed: then marched up to the house, and just
at the stable met Mrs. Oxenham and another lady, whom he immediately
accosted with a doleful complaint of being a poor shipwrecked mariner.
Mrs. Oxenham told him, she should have taken him for Bampfylde Moore
Carew, but she knew him to be transported. He was not disconcerted at
this, but readily told her, with great composure, that his name was
Thomas Jones, belonging to Bridport, in Dorsetshire. The ladies gave
each a shilling, and then bid him to go into the house, where he had
victuals set before him; before he went away the lady sent him a Holland
shirt. Being thus equipped, he inquired out the churchwardens of the
parish, and by the same story got a crown of them. From hence he went to
Lord Clifford's, at Uggbroke, in the parish of Chudleigh: here he sent in
a petition to my Lord as an unfortunate Roman Catholic, and received a
guinea; he lay that night at Sandy-gate, and behaved as a Roman Catholic,
under the name of William Passmore.

The next day, at Moll Upton's, in Newton Bushel, he met with one of the
sisters of that order of mendicants commonly called cousin Betties; and
he, having an inclination to pay a visit to Sir Thomas Carew, at Hackum,
soon made an agreement with the cousin Betty to exchange habits for that
day. The barber was then called in to make his beard as smooth as his
art and razor could make it, and his hair was dressed up with ribbons;
thus metamorphosed, our hero set out, having a little dog under his arm.
Being come to Sir Thomas Carew's, he rushed into the house without
ceremony, demanding