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 incensed me by the freedoms she had taken with my name, beyond a hope of reconciliation. That such was the situation of her thoughts, will appear in the sequel: for that very day she came into the shop, where I was alone, and fixing her eyes, swimming in tears, upon me, sighed most piteously; but I was proof against her distress, by recollecting the epithets with which she had honoured me the night before: and believing that the good reception I enjoyed was destined for another, I therefore took no notice of her affliction. However, she thought proper to use me with more complaisance than usual, knowing that it was in my power at any time to publish her shame; by these means my life became much more agreeable, and as I every day improved in my knowledge of the town, I shook off my awkward air by degrees, and acquired the character of a polite journeyman apothecary.

One night about twelve o'clock, as I returned from visiting a patient at Chelsea, I received a blow on my head, from an unseen hand, that stretched me senseless on the ground, and was left for dead, with three stabs or a sword in my body. The groans I uttered alarmed the people of a solitary ale-house, and they were humans enough to take me in and send for a Surgeon to dress my wounds, who assured me they were not mortal. One of them directed to