Number-Nip’s dominions, many thouſand fathoms under ground, an idea that threw him into a violent conſternation.
In a few hours there was ſome appearance of day, but the light ſhone very faintly through an iron grate in the wall. Without exactly knowing where he was, the cell did not ſeem perfectly new to him. He was in hopes the gaoler would come to him, but in vain. One tedious hour ſucceeded another; hunger and thirſt tortured the captive: he began to make a noiſe, rattling his chains, knocking againſt the wall, and crying out piteouſly for help; he heard human voices near at hand, but no perſon would open the door of his cell. At length the gaoler, having armed himſelf with a prayer againſt ghoſts, undid the door, croſſing himſelf devoutly, and exorciſing the devil, who he imagined was making a diſturbance in the empty gaol. But upon a nearer examination of the ſorcery, he recognized his runaway priſoner, the cut-purſe, and Curlypate at the ſame
