Among the children of misfortune with whom I associated in prison, was Charles Fitzroy; a bankrupt in every thing but exhaustless invention, and unconquerable perseverance.  Give him the free use of his limbs, and with matchless dexterity he would make the contributions of the morning furnish out the riotous expenses of the evening.  It was his boast, that he would breakfast with an empty pocket, and dine with a purse that should defray the carouse of a dozen friends.  And I have known him fulfil his boast, with a heart as light, too, as became a man who thus made the credulous fools of the world his bankers.

I was needy, desperate, and an outcast; and I linked my destiny with Fitzroy’s.  He had my confidence; such confidence as confederates in knavery can bestow.  When he obtained his liberty, which he did shortly after my own was accomplished, he introduced me to his companions; men who, like himself, lived by plundering the unwary, and who looked up to him as their Magnus Apollo.  I was soon initiated in all their mysteries; and played my part to admiration at the gaming-table, on the race course, and in the ring.

Fitzroy was master of the secret that festered near my heart; the increased and increasing hatred towards my uncle.  I regarded him as my evil genius; for not only had he thwarted me in two of the dearest objects of my life; but his prediction of my boyhood had clung to me like a poisoned garment.  I could not shake it off; and now, more than ever, it seemed accomplishing itself with rapid strides.  It made me mad when I reflected upon the polluted channels through which my precarious means flowed, and thought of the luxurious enjoyments which his opulence commanded.  It was true, I had dashed his cup with bitterness; but it was no less true, that it still flowed with sweets, while mine was brimming with gall.  Fitzroy would often talk to me upon this subject, and devise schemes for a successful inroad upon his purse.  At length a plan was matured between us, in which I could not appear, but which Fitzroy, and a picked few of our associates, undertook to execute.

My uncle had always been passionately fond of the course, and prided himself upon his stud of racers.  He betted largely, and was generally fortunate, probably because he selected his men with a wary eye.  The race course, then, was the arena chosen for the enterprise; but admirable as were the projected plans, and skilfully as they were executed, such was his luck, or so profound were his calculations, that they failed five successive seasons.  Fitzroy, however, was one of those men who, when satisfied that what they engage in ought to succeed, according to the means employed, only derive fresh vigour from every fresh defeat.  He played his game a sixth time, and won.  The same day that saw my uncle rise with thousands, saw him seek his pillow at night, a frantic beggar!  He was too proud a man, too honourable, I will add, not to throw down his last guinea, in satisfaction of such demands.  He never suspected villany in the business.  He paid his losses, therefore; and in less than a week afterwards, an inquest sat upon his body, which was found at the bottom of his own fish pond.