We were soon at Manchester, and I was
taken at once to the City Jail, where lodgings had been procured for me
at the public expense. I passed the night in an underground cell, of the
kind provided for criminals of the baser sort. It was anything but clean
and sweet, and the conduct of the authorities in placing me in such a
hole, when I was not even charged with any gross offence, was neither
wise nor just. There were some raised boards on one side, but no bed, no
sheets, no blankets.
It was not long before a number of friends who had heard of my arrest,
called to see me, and were admitted to my dungeon. They brought some
food, some candles, and as they had been informed that I had not been
permitted to wash myself before being locked up, one of them, a lady,
brought me a moistened towel with which to wipe my face. While these
kind friends were trying to make things comfortable for me in my prison,
others were running to and fro in search of bail, with a view to my
speedy release. One dear, good soul, Mr. Travers Madge, when he heard
that I was in jail, started at once for Mossley, a distance of ten or
eleven miles, to see Mr. Robinson, a faithful friend, to request him to
come to my help. It was two o'clock in the morning when, weary and full
of anxiety, he knocked at Mr.
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