Being arrived in Cheapside, he takes a coach and orders himself to be drove to the Rose in Bridges-street Covent Garden, and the coach stopping at the door the coachman descended to let him out, but was ordered to go into the tavern and enquire if Mr. —— was in the house; the enquiry through every room he knew must take up some minutes, and give him time to let himself out at the other side of the coach, which he effected with great privacy and expedition, and immediately set forward for Covent Garden play-house, taking his way up Bow-street, purposely avoiding, as I apprehended, the scene of his morning adventure.—Here Sable was interrupted in his narrative, by the arrival of his owner, who brought in with Him an old cloaths-man, and handing the black narrator down delivered him to this new vamper of old commodities; who after perusing him with great attention and sagacity, shaking his head declared he could not give any thing for it, adding, “it had been so much used, it would not hold together for a single day’s wear”; and as for repairing it, he said it was impossible from the rottenness of it, nor could it be converted into patches, as in fact, he said, it consisted of nothing else but patches; and returning it to the owner, desired him to keep it as a curiosity, swearing he never saw such a thing in his life: upon this Sable was once more conducted to the wardrobe, and hung on the peg he had been removed from. Sable (half recovered from his fright) soon was heard to utter these words.—My loved companion, and adopted son, indulge me a few minutes to recover my breath.—White with great tenderness, begged he would make no apology, for though he was exceeding anxious to know what had caused the fright he was in, he would not think of being gratified till he was perfectly recovered—after a few minutes pause the frighted veteran thus broke forth.—Where is the philosophy, the calm resignation, I fancied I could meet my last hour with? alas! I find I have learned nothing that is worth retaining, since I have not learned to bear the near approach of my dissolution without trembling; why should I wish to exist, or linger in this decayed and miserable state, when the momentary shock of death is succeeded by a total annihilation?—Here White interrupting him, begged to know the cause of such sad reflections. My son, returned Sable, bear with the infirmities of age; the frequency of contemplating on death, believe me, greatly lessens its terrors:—the danger is now over, and my fears are subsided—. Here Sable recounted his late adventure with the dealer in old cloaths,—which having concluded, he proceeded in the relation of the many and surprizing changes of fortune—(But here, reader, lest thou should imagine this digression from the chain of adventures as related by our Black Hero, is an artifice calculated to extend this work, and that no such interruption ever happened, but what was made