With success his extravagance increased, and, living the life of a man
about town, he was soon harassed by debt. More than once he was lodged
in the Marshalsea, and as his violent temper resented the interference
of a dun, he became notorious for his assaults upon sheriff's officers.
And thus his poor skill grew poorer: forgetting his trade, he expected
that brandy would ease his embarrassment. At last, sodden with drink,
he enlisted in the Guards, from which regiment he deserted, only to be
pressed aboard a man-of-war. Freed by a clever trick, he took to the
road again, until a paltry theft from a barber transported him to
Maryland. There he turned sailor, and his ship, The Two Sisters, being
taken by a privateer, he contrived to scramble into Portugal, whence he
made his way back to England, and to the only adventure of which he was
master. He landed with no more money than the price of a pistol, but
he prigged a prancer at Bristol horsefair, and set out upon his last
journey. The tide of his fortune was at flood. He crammed his pockets
with watches; he was owner of enough diamonds to set up shop in a
fashionable quarter; of guineas he had as many as would support his
magnificence for half a year; and at last he resolved to quit the road,
and to live like the gentleman he was. To this prudence he was the more
easily persuaded, because not only were the thief-takers eager for
his capture, but he was a double-dyed deserter, whose sole chance of
quietude was a decent obscurity.
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