As Hercules, whose counterpart she was, changed his club for
the distaff of Omphale, so would she put off the wimple and bodice of
her sex for jerkin and galligaskins. If she could not allure manhood,
then would she brave it. And though she might not cross swords with her
country's foes, at least she might levy tribute upon the unjustly rich,
and confront an enemy wherever there was a full pocket.
Her entrance into a gang of thieves was beset by no difficulty. The Bear
Garden, always her favourite resort, had made her acquainted with all
the divers and rumpads of the town. The time, moreover, was favourable
to enterprise, and once again was genius born into a golden age. The
cutting of purses was an art brought to perfection, and already the more
elegant practice of picking pockets was understood. The transition gave
scope for endless ingenuity, and Moll was not slow in mastering the
theory of either craft. It was a changing fashion of dress, as I have
said, which forced a new tactic upon the thief; the pocket was invented
because the hanging purse was too easy a prey for the thievish scissors.
And no sooner did the world conceal its wealth in pockets than the
cly-filer was born to extract the booty with his long, nimble fingers.
The trick was managed with an admirable forethought, which has been a
constant example to after ages. The file was always accompanied by a
bull, whose duty it was to jostle and distract the victim while his
pockets were rifled.
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