The awful dread of exposure prompted him to appeal to the mercy of his captors. 'Watchman,' said he, 'pray conduct me to my home, or suffer me to go there myself, for with shame I confess it, I am a gospel minister, and wish to avoid exposure.' The two fellows laughed scornfully. 'Don't think to come that gammon over us,' said they. 'A minister indeed!--and picked up blind drunk in the street at midnight!' 'But I have money about me, and will pay you well,' said the Doctor. The man who had struck him with the club, knowing that he had no money, affected to be indignant at this attempt to 'bribe an officer,' and refused to release him. Oh, hapless fate!--truly the 'way of transgressors is hard.' The learned and eloquent Dr. Sinclair--the idol of his aristocratic and fashionable congregation--whose words of piety and holiness were listened to with attention by admiring thousands every Sabbath day--was incarcerated in the watch-house! Yes--thrust into a filthy cell, among a swarm of felons, vile negroes, vagabonds and loafers--the scum of the city! The cell was about twenty feet square; one half of it was occupied by a platform, at a height of four feet from the floor. This platform was called the '_bunk_,' and it was covered with the prostate forms of about twenty men, including the ragged beggar, the raving drunkard, and the well-dressed thief--all huddled together, and shivering with the cold, which was intense. The stone floor of the cell was damp and covered with filth; yet upon it, and beneath the _bunk_, several wretched beings were stretched, some cursing each other and themselves, others making the place resound with hideous laughter, while one was singing, in drunken tones, a shockingly obscene song. Into this den of horrors was Dr. Sinclair rudely thrust; for no one believed his statement that he was a clergyman, and indeed his appearance, when undergoing the examination of the Captain of the Watch, was anything but clerical. His face was covered with blood, his clothes soiled and disordered, his hat crushed, and his manner wild and incoherent. It is more than probable that, had the Captain known who he was, he would have ordered his immediate discharge. Groping his way along the damp, cold walls of his cell, which was in profound darkness, the Doctor stumbled over a person who was lying upon the floor, writhing in the agonies of _delirium tremens_. In frantic rage, this miserable creature seized the rector's leg, and bit it horribly, causing him to utter a cry of agony, which was responded to by roars of laughter from the hellish crew. Extricating himself with difficulty from the fierce clutch of the maniac, the unhappy gentleman seated himself upon a large iron pipe which ran through the cell, and prayed for death.