"And what is there, O'Brien ?" inquired I.
"Never mind; I had them made at Montpelier.

You'll see by-and-by." The others, who were lodged in the same room, then came in, and after staying a quarter of an hour, went away at the sound of the dinner-bell.
"Now, Peter," said O'Brien, "I must get rid of my load.

Turn the key." O'Brien then undressed himself, and when he threw off his shirt and drawers, showed me a rope of silk, with a knot at every two feet, about half-an-inch in size, wound round and round his body.

There were about sixty feet of it altogether.

As I unwound it, he, turning round and round, observed, "Peter, I've worn this rope ever since I left Montpelier, and you've no idea of the pain I have suffered; but we must go to England, that's decided upon." When I looked at O'Brien, as the rope was wound off, I could easily imagine that he had really been in great pain; in several places his flesh was quite raw from the continual friction, and after it was all unwound, and he had put on his clothes, he fainted away.