grow, the more I see of men, and of the callings of social life—the more I, an open knave, sicken at the glossed and covert dishonesties around. I acknowledge no allegiance to society. From my birth to this hour, I have received no single favour from its customs or its laws;—openly I war against it—and patiently will I meet its revenge. This may be crime; but it looks light in my eyes, when I gaze around, and survey on all sides the masked traitors who acknowledge large debts to society,—who profess to obey its laws—adore its institutions—and, above all—oh, how righteously!—attack all those who attack it, and who yet lie, and cheat, and defraud, and peculate—publicly reaping all the comforts—privately filching all the profits.—Repent!—of what? I come into the world friendless and poor—I find a body of laws hostile to the friendless and the poor! To those laws hostile to me, then—I acknowledge hostility in my turn. Between us are the conditions of war. Let them expose a weakness—I insist on my right to seize the advantage
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PAUL CLIFFORD.
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