When Wilson shewed me to bed, he carried me up into a dark and dirty garret, there stripped me, and carried my cloaths out of the room, which I saw no more, for upwards of a month, but lay chained to this bad bed, all that time; this appears to be their breaking in garret; under the
ridgetree is a box for the harbour of pigeons, which they disturb in the night time, to affright their prisoner when he should rest.