And were a man but to hear the discourse among the inhabitants of those dens of thieves, when they first swarm about a new-comer to comfort him, for they are not all hardened to a like degree at once. “Well,” says the first, “come, don’t be concerned, you have got a good parcel of goods away I promise you, you need not value all the world.” “All! would I had done so,” says another, “I’d a laughed at all my creditors.” “Ay,” says the young proficient in the hardened trade, “but my creditors!” “Hang the creditors!” says a third; “why, there’s such a one, and such a one, they have creditors too, and they won’t agree with them, and here they live like gentlemen, and care not a farthing for them. Offer your creditors half a crown in the pound, and pay it them in old debts, and if they won’t take it let them alone; they’ll come after you, never fear it.” “Oh! but a statute,” says he again. “Oh! but the devil,” cries the Minter. “Why, ’tis the statutes we live by,” say they; “why, if it were not for statutes, creditors would comply, and debtors would compound, and we honest fellows here of the Mint would be starved. Prithee, what need you care for a statute? A thousand statutes can’t reach you here.” This is the language of the country, and the new-comer soon learns to speak it; for I think I may say, without wronging any man, I have known many a man go in among them honest, that is, without ill design, but I never knew one come away so again. Then comes a graver sort among this black crew (for here, as in hell, are fiends of degrees and different magnitude), and he falls into discourse with the new-comer, and gives him more solid advice. “Look you, sir, I am concerned to see you melancholy; I am in your circumstance too, and if you’ll accept of it, I’ll give you the best advice I can,” and so begins the grave discourse.