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Book, page 31 / 468 through a crowd that was gathered at the turning of a street, when a hawker by accident flapped a bundle of wet hand-bills in my eyes, and at the same instant screamed in my ears, '_The last dying speech and confession of Jonathan Clarke, who was executed on Monday, the 11th instant._'--Jonathan Clarke! The name struck my ears suddenly, and the words I shocked me so much that I stood fixed to the spot; and it was I not till the hawker had passed by me some yards, and was beginning with '_The last dying speech and confession of Jonathan Clarke, the Cornwall miner_,' that I recollected myself enough to speak: I called after the hawker in vain: he was bawling too loud to hear me, and I was forced to run the whole length of the street before I could overtake him, and get one of the hand-bills. On reading it, I could have no doubt that it was really the last dying speech of my old enemy Clarke. His birth, parentage, and every circumstance, convinced me of the truth. Amongst other things in his confession, I came to a plan he had laid to murder a poor lad in the tin-mine, where he formerly worked; 'and he thanked God that this plan was never executed, as the boy providentially disappeared the very night on which the murder was to have been perpetrated. He further set forth that, after being turned away by his master, and obliged to fly from Cornwall, he came up to London, and worked as a coal-heaver for a little while, but soon became what is called a _mud-lark_; that is, a plunderer of the ships' cargoes that unload in the Thames. He plied this abominable trade for some time, drinking every day to the value of what he stole, till, in a quarrel at an ale-house about the division of some articles to be sold to a receiver of stolen goods, he struck the woman of the house a blow, of which she died; and, as it was proved that he had long-borne her malice for some old dispute, Clarke was on his trial brought in guilty of wilful murder, and sentenced to be hanged. "I shuddered whilst I read all this.--To such an end, after the utmost his cunning could do, was this villain brought at last! How thankful I was that I did not continue his associate I in my boyish days! My gratitude to my good master increased upon the reflection that it was his humanity which had raised me from vice and misery, to virtue and happiness. We sailed from the Downs the 20th of March, one thousand seven hundred and.... But why I tell you this I do not know; except it be in compliance with the custom of all voyagers, who think that it is important to the world to know on what day they sailed from this or that port. I shall not, however, imitate them in giving you a journal of
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