fled, owing who knows how many more!  Does a man earn fifteen thousand pounds a year, toiling by day, talking by night, having horrible unrest in his bed, ghastly terrors at waking, seeing an officer lurking at every corner, a sword of justice for ever hanging over his head—­and have for his sole diversion a newspaper, a lonely mutton-chop, and a little sherry and seltzer-water?  In the German stories we read how men sell themselves to—­a certain Personage, and that Personage cheats them.  He gives them wealth; yes, but the gold-pieces turn into worthless leaves.  He sets them before splendid banquets yes, but what an awful grin that black footman has who lifts up the dish-cover; and don’t you smell a peculiar sulphurous odor in the dish?  Faugh! take it away; I can’t eat.  He promises them splendors and triumphs.  The conqueror’s ear rolls glittering through the city, the multitude shout and huzza.  Drive on, coachman.  Yes, but who is that hanging on behind the carriage?  Is this the reward of eloquence, talents, industry?  Is this the end of a life’s labor?  Don’t you remember how, when the dragon was infesting the neighborhood of Babylon, the citizens used to walk dismally out of evenings, and look at the valleys round about strewed with the bones of the victims whom the monster had devoured?  O insatiate brute, and most disgusting, brazen, and scaly reptile!  Let us be thankful, children, that it has not gobbled us up too.  Quick.  Let us turn away, and pray that we may be kept out of the reach of his horrible maw, jaw, claw!

When I first came up to London, as innocent as Monsieur Gil Blas, I also fell in with some pretty acquaintances, found my way into several caverns, and delivered my purse to more than one gallant gentleman of the road.  One I remember especially—­one who never eased me personally of a single maravedi—­one than whom I never met a bandit more gallant, courteous, and amiable.  Rob me?  Rolando feasted me; treated me to his dinner and his wine; kept a generous table for his friends, and I know was most liberal to many of them.  How well I remember one of his speculations!  It was a great plan for smuggling tobacco.  Revenue officers were to be bought off; silent ships were to ply on the Thames; cunning depots were to be established, and hundreds of thousands of pounds to be made by the coup.  How his eyes kindled as he propounded the scheme to me!  How easy and certain it seemed!  It might have succeeded, I can’t say:  but the bold and merry, the hearty and kindly Rolando came to grief—­a little matter of imitated signatures occasioned a Bank persecution of Rolando the Brave.  He walked about armed, and vowed he would never be taken alive:  but taken he was; tried, condemned, sentenced to perpetual banishment; and I heard that for some time he was universally popular in the colony which had the honor to possess him.  What a song he could sing!  ’Twas when the cup was sparkling before us, and heaven gave a portion of its blue, boys, blue, that I remember