pass unnoticed.
‘Alas, Doctor,’ cried he, ‘these children are too handsome and too good for such a place as this!’
Why, Mr Jenkinson’, replied I, ‘thank heaven my children are pretty tolerable in morals, and if they be good, it matters little for the rest.’
‘I fancy, sir,’ returned my fellow prisoner, ‘that it must give you great comfort to have this little family about you.’
‘A comfort, Mr Jenkinson,’ replied I, ‘yes it is indeed a comfort, and I would not be without them for all the world; for they can make a dungeon seem a palace. There is but one way in this life of wounding my happiness, and that is by injuring them.’
‘I am afraid then, sir,’ cried he, ‘that I am in some measure culpable; for I think I see here (looking at my son Moses) one that I have injured, and by whom I wish to be forgiven.’
My son immediately recollected his voice and features, though he had before seen him in disguise, and taking him by the hand, with a smile forgave him. ‘Yet,’ continued he, ‘I can’t help wondering at what you could see in my face, to think me a proper mark for deception.’
‘My dear sir,’ returned the other, ‘it was not your face, but your white stockings and the black ribband in your hair, that allured me. But no disparagement to your parts, I have deceived wiser men than you in my time; and yet, with all my tricks, the blockheads have been too many for me at last.’
‘I suppose,’ cried my son, ‘that the narrative of such a life as yours must be extremely instructive and amusing.’