CHAPTER XXIII.
Miss Williams interrupted by a bailiff, who carries her to the Marshalsea--I accompany her--prove she is not the person named in the writ--the bailiff is fain to discharge her--we shift our lodging--her story, and my reflections thereupon--progress of a common woman of the town--resolves to quit that way of life Her story was here interrupted by a rap at the door, which I no sooner opened, than three or four terrible fellows rushed in, one of whom accosted my fellow-lodger thus: "Madam, your servant--you must do me the favour to come along with me, I have a writ against you." While the bailiff (for so he was) spoke thus, his followers surrounded the prisoner, and began to handle her very roughly.

This treatment incensed me so much, that I snatched up the poker and would certainly have used it in defence of the lady, without any regard to the strength and number of her adversaries, had she not begged me, with a composure of countenance for which I could not account, to use no violence on her behalf, which could be of no service to her, but might be very detrimental to myself.

Then turning to the leader of this formidable troop, she desired to see the writ, and having perused it, said with a faltering voice, "I am not the person whose name is here mentioned, arrest me at your peril." "Ay, ay, madam," replied the catchpole.

"We shall prove your identity.

In the meantime, whither will you be pleased to be carried, to my house, or to jail ?" "If I must be confined," said she, "I would rather be in your house than in a common jail." "Well, well," answered he, "if you have money enough in your pocket, you shall be entertained like a princess." But when she acquainted him with her poverty, he swore he never gave credit, and ordered one of his myrmidons to call a coach, to carry her to the Marshalsea at once.