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 was now a mighty change, and yet the man was the same still; it was money only made the difference. Judge therefore whether want of money be not an extraordinary misery, and a great unhappiness.

This puts me in mind of a story, I have heard related of Jocelin Percy, Esqr., brother to the Earl of Northumberland, who going by a butcher's shop, near Cow-Cross affronted his dog, who thereupon fell a-barking at him, and the Esquire drew his sword and run him through. The butcher, who was troubled for the loss of his dog, charged a constable with the Esquire, who carried him before a Justice that knew him not; the Justice asked him why he killed the butcher's dog? The Esquire answered him very carelessly, because the dog ran at him. Ran at you! says Mr. Justice. How did he run at you? To which Percy (being a comical sort of a man) replied, He ran at me thus, Bough! wough! wough! and therewith taking a little run at the Justice, threw him and his chair down together! Which Mr. Justice looked upon as such affront to his worship, that nothing would atone for, but committing him to Newgate, aggravating the crime of killing the butcher's dog, telling him, his dog was his servant, and that for ought he knew, himself or some of his gang, designed to