The bishop, always ready to assist any person troubled with scruples of conscience, requested Adams to bring his friend to him the following day: “But,” said Adams, deferentially, “it will be more satisfactory to the poor man, if your lordship will speak to him yourself.” Upon which the bishop bowing to the mercer, the latter approached the coach, when the bishop said, “The gentleman has informed me of all the matter about you, and if you please to give yourself the trouble of coming to my house at Fulham, I will satisfy you in every point.” The mercer made many grateful bows, and taking Adams to a tavern, gave him a good entertainment.
The next morning Adams waited upon the mercer, who was making out his bill to present to the bishop, and pretending that his coming in haste to attend him to the bishop’s house had made him forget to bring money with him, entreated that he would grant him the loan of a guinea, and put it down in the bill. They then went off to wait upon the bishop at the time appointed. After being regaled in the parlor with a bottle of wine, the mercer was introduced to the bishop, who addressed him, saying, “I understand that you have been greatly troubled of late; I hope that you are better now, sir?” The mercer answered, “My trouble is much abated, since your lordship has been pleased to order me to wait upon you.” So pulling out his pocket-book, he presented his lordship with a bill containing several articles, including a guinea of borrowed money, amounting in all to two hundred and three pounds nineteen shillings and tenpence.
His lordship, staring upon the bill, and examining its contents, said, “What is the meaning of all this? The gentleman last night might very well say your conscience could not be at rest, and I wonder why it should, when you bring a bill to me of which I know nothing.” “Your lordship,” said the mercer, bowing and scraping, “was pleased last night to say, that you would satisfy me to-day.” “Yes,” replied the prelate, “and so I would with respect to what the gentleman told me; who said that you, being much troubled about some points of religion, desired to be resolved therein, and, in order thereto, I appointed you to come to-day.” “Truly, your lordship’s nephew told me otherwise; for he said you would pay me this bill of parcels, which, upon my word, he had of me, and in a very clandestine manner too, if I were to tell your lordship all the truth: but out of respect to your honor, I will not disgrace your nephew.” “My nephew! he is none of my nephew! I never, to my knowledge, saw the gentleman in my life before!”
Dick not long after went into the life-guards, but as his pay would not support his extravagance, he sometimes collected upon the highway. Along with some of his companions upon the road, they robbed a gentleman of a gold watch and a purse of a hundred and eight pounds. Not content with his booty. Adams went after the gentleman, saying, “Sir, you have got a very fine coat on; I must make bold to exchange with you.” As the gentleman rode along, he thought he heard something making a noise in his pocket, and examining it, to his great joy he found his watch and all his money, which Adams in his hurry had forgot to remove out of the pocket of his own coat when he exchanged with the gentleman. But when Adams and his associates came to an inn, and sat down to examine their booty, to their unspeakable chagrin they found that all was gone.
Adams and his companions went out that very same day to repair their loss, and attacked the stage-coach, in which were several women, with whom, irritated by their recent misfortune, they were very rough and urgent. While Dick was searching the pockets of one of the women, she said, “Have you no pity or compassion on our sex? Certainly, you have neither Christianity, nor conscience, nor religion, in you!” “Right, we have not much Christianity nor conscience in us: but, for my part, you shall presently find a little religion in me.” So falling next upon her jewels and ear-rings, “Indeed, madam,” exclaimed Adams, “supposing you to be an Egyptian, I must beg the favor of you, being a Jew, to borrow your jewels and ear-rings, according as my forefathers were commanded by Moses;” and having robbed the ladies to the amount of two hundred pounds in money and goods, allowed them to proceed. After a course of depredations, Dick, in robbing a man between London and Brentford, was so closely pursued by the person who was robbed, and a neighbor whom he fortunately met upon the road, that in a little time afterwards he was apprehended, carried before a magistrate, committed to Newgate, tried, condemned, and executed, in March 1713. Though rude and profligate before, he was penitent and devout after receiving his sentence.
WILLIAM GETTINGS.
William’s father was a grazier in Herefordshire, and he lived with him until he was sixteen years old, and then came up to London. Sometimes in the capacity of a footman, and sometimes in that of a butler, he spent five years in a very irreproachable manner. Unfortunately, however, he became acquainted with evil company, was soon corrupted in principles, and became a rogue in practice.
William Gettings robs a Gentleman in his own Garden. [P. 176].
He began his course under the name of William Smith, and traded in the smaller matter of pilfering. In the dress of a porter he one evening went into the house of a doctor of medicine, took down a rich bed, and packed it up. In carrying it off he fell down stairs, and had almost broken his neck. The noise alarming the old doctor and his son, they came running to see what was the matter; whereupon Gettings, puffing and blowing as if he was quite out of breath, perceiving them nearer than they should be, said to the doctor, “Is not your name so and so?”—“Yes,” replied the doctor; “and what then?”—“Why, then, sir,” said Gettings, “there’s one Mr. Hugh Hen and Penhenribus has ordered me to bring these goods hither (which have almost broken my back,) and carry them away to a new lodging, which he has taken somewhere hereabouts.”—“Mr. Hugh Hen and Penhenribus!” replied the doctor again: “pray, who’s he? for, to the best of my knowledge, I don’t know such a gentleman.”—“I can’t tell,” said Gettings, “but, indeed, the gentleman knows you, and ordered me to leave the goods here.” “I don’t care,” said the doctor, “how well he knows me! I tell you I’ll not take the people’s goods, unless they were here themselves; therefore, I say, carry them away!”—“Nay, pray sir,” said Gettings, “let me leave the goods here, for I am quite weary already in bringing them hither.”—“I tell you,” replied the doctor, “there shall none be left here; therefore take them away, or I’ll throw them into the street!”—“Well, well,” said Gettings, “I’ll take the goods away then; but I’m sure the gentleman will be very angry, because he ordered me to leave them here.”—“I don’t care,” replied the doctor, “for his anger, nor your’s either! I tell you, I’ll take no charge of other people’s goods, unless they are here themselves to put them into my custody!”—“Very well, sir,” said Gettings, “since I must carry them away, I beg the favor of you and the gentleman there to lift them on my back.”—“Ay, ay, with all my heart,” replied the doctor. “Come, son, and lend a hand to lift them on the fellow’s back.”