Of my Incarceration in the Jug
with never a word or a sign, till he was arrived nearly abreast of me, leaving the door open for flight, and the dubsmen all agog with the expectation of an uproar.
“My son,” says the Ordinary in a quaking voice, seeing I kept calm, and inspired, maybe, by this, “it is my duty to prepare you for your appearance before your Maker.”
At that I gave vent to a yell and brought my chains with a crash upon the floor, sending him at the same time a devilish look. He withdrew at top speed; but fearing, I suppose, that I might make a rush for them, the turnkeys banged the door, and there was his reverence all alone with me. His face betrayed the most abject consternation, and he turned white even to his red nose. Whereupon I could hold my laughter no longer, and broke out into a fit of merriment.
This seemed to encourage him a little, for, still keeping his distance, he addressed me: “I am glad,” says he, “to see that you keep up your spirits, my poor fellow, in these heavy circumstances.”
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