I was
pulled away and put out in the ould dungeon, and his Holiness went
away sore frighted, crossing himself much, and never returned
again.
"In the old dungeon I was fastened to the wall by a chain, and
there I was disciplined once every other day for the first three
weeks, and then I was left to myself, and my chain, and hunger; and
there I sat in the dungeon, sometimes screeching, sometimes
hallooing, for I soon became frighted, having nothing in the cell
to divert me. At last the cook found his way to me by stealth, and
comforted me a little, bringing me tidbits out of the kitchen; and
he visited me again and again--not often, however, for he dare only
come when he could steal away the key from the custody of the thaif
of a porter. I was three years in the dungeon, and should have
gone mad but for the cook, and his words of comfort, and his
tidbits, and nice books which he brought me out of the library,
which were the 'Calendars of Newgate,' and the 'Lives of Irish
Rogues and Raparees,' the only English books in the library.
However, at the end of three years, the ould thaif of a rector,
wishing to look at them books, missed them from the library, and
made a perquisition about them, and the thaif of a porter said that
he shouldn't wonder if I had them; saying that he had once seen me
reading; and then the rector came with others to my cell, and took
my books from me, from under my straw, and asked me how I came by
them; and on my refusal to tell, they disciplined me again till the
blood ran down my back; and making more perquisition they at last
accused the cook of having carried the books to me, and not
denying, he was given warning to leave next day, but he left that
night, and took me away with him; for he stole the key, and came to
me and cut my chain through, and then he and I escaped from the
religious house through a window--the cook with a bundle,
containing what things he had.
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