Another would inquire, What news from * * * Assizes?
(which you may guess, Mr.Editor, was the scene of my shame,) and whether the sessions was like to prove a maiden one?
A third would offer to insure me from drowning.

A fourth would tease me with inquiries how I felt when I was swinging, whether I had not something like a blue flame dancing before my eyes?
A fifth took a fancy never to call me anything but _Lazarus_.

And an eminent bookseller and publisher,--who, in his zeal to present the public with new facts, had he lived in those days, I am confident, would not have scrupled waiting upon the person himself last mentioned, at the most critical period of his existence, to solicit a _few facts relative to resuscitation_,--had the modesty to offer me--guineas per sheet, if I would write, in his magazine, a physiological account of my feelings upon coming to myself.
But these were evils which a moderate fortitude might have enabled me to struggle with.

Alas! Mr.Editor, the women,--whose good graces I had always most assiduously cultivated, from whose softer minds I had hoped a more delicate and generous sympathy than I found in the men,--the women began to shun me--this was the unkindest blow of all.
But is it to be wondered at?
How couldst thou imagine, wretchedest of beings, that that tender creature Seraphina would fling her pretty arms about that neck which previous circumstances had rendered infamous?
That she would put up with the refuse of the rope, the leavings of the cord?
Or that any analogy could subsist between the knot which binds true lovers, and the knot which ties malefactors?
I can forgive that pert baggage Flirtilla, who, when I complimented her one day on the execution which her eyes had done, replied, that, to be sure, Mr.* * * was a judge of those things.

But from thy more exalted mind, Celestina, I expected a more unprejudiced decision.