ing him to revenge that nothing will make him lose sight of.
In the sequel of these Memoirs, I shall have occasion to return to this subject, when I touch on the system of surveillance, which is a new punishment for freed men.
The inconveniences and abuses that I have just adverted to existed at the prison of Brest when I was conducted thither, and were additional inducements to make my sojourn as brief as possible. In such a situation, the first thing is to assure oneself of the discretion of the comrade with whom we may be coupled. Mine was a vine-cutter from Dijon, about thirty years old, condemned to twenty-four years' labour for forcible burglary; already half an ideot, misery and brutal treatment had completely stupified him. Bowed beneath the stick, he seemed to have just preserved the instinct of a monkey or a dog, and thus answered the whistle of the galley-serjeants. He was of no use to me, and I was compelled to look out for a mate who would not fear or shrink from the perspective beatings which are always liberally bestowed on convicts suspected of favouring, or even conniving at the escape of a prisoner. To get rid of Bourguignon, I feigned indisposition, and he was yoked to another, and when I recovered, I was placed with a poor devil sentenced to eight years labour for stealing chickens from a church.
He had not entirely parted with his senses, and the first time we were alone together, said to me—"Listen, comrade; I can see you do not mean to live long at the public expense—be frank with me, and you will not lose by it." I told him that I intended to escape at the first opportunity. "Well," said he, "I advise you to bolt before the beasts of Serjeants are quite acquainted with your phiz;—but have you any cash?" I told him that I had, and he then informed me that he could procure me other habiliments, but that I must buy a few utensils like one who meant to work out his
