The hermit: or The unparalleled sufferings and surprising adventures of Philip Quarll, an Englishman. Who was lately discovered upon an uninhabited island in the South-Sea, where he lived above fifty years, without any human assistance. : Containing, I. His conference with those who found him; to whom he recited the most material circumstances of his life: his being born in the parish of St. Giles, educated by the charity of a lady, and put out apprentice to a lock-smith. II. His leaving his master, and being taken up with a notorious house-breaker, who was hanged; his lucky escape, and going out to sea a cabin-boy, marrying a famous prostitute, enlisting a common soldier, turning singing-master, and afterwards marrying three wives, for which he was tried and condemned at the Old Bailey. III. His being pardoned by the King, turning merchant, and being shipwrecked on this desolate island on the coast of Mexico. : With an elegant frontispiece.

THE ENGLISH HERMIT.

BOOK. I.

Account of Mr. Quarll's being found out; description of his dress, habitation, utensils; his conversation with the persons who first discovered him.

HAVING concluded those mercantile affairs, which I undertook, by this voyage, to ne|gociate; and being upon my return for England, and wind-bound; during my stay I daily walked about the sea shore. Very early one morning, the weather being extremely fair, and the sea won|derfully calm, as I was taking my usual turn, I ac|cidentally fell into discourse with a Spanish Mexi|can inhabitant, named Alvarado: and as we were viewing the rocks which abound in those seas, he desired me to take notice of a vast long one about seven leagues from shore, which he said was suppos|ed to inclose some land, by its great extent; but the access to it was very dangerous, by reason of the rocks, which reach so far under water, being in some places too shallow for boats, and others too deep to ford over, and the sea commonly very rough in that place, hitherto prevented farther research, supposing the advantage which might accrue from

the land, would not countervail the cost and trou|ble of making it inhabitable: for that he and some friends had on a fine day, as it now was, the cu|riosity to go as near as they could with safety, which was about fifty yards from the main rock, but were forced to return as they went; only that he had the pleasure of catching some delicious fish, which lay playing upon the surface of the water, having a rod in his hand, and lines in his pocket, being seldom without, when he walks on the sea shore: These fish are somewhat larger than a herring in its prime, skinned like a mackarel, made as a gudgeon, and of divers beautiful colours; especially if caught in a fair day; having since observed, that they are more or less beautiful according to the serenity of the weather.

The account he gave me of them excited my cu|riosity to go and catch some; and he being, as usual provided with tackle, we picked up a parcel of yel|low maggots, which breed in dead tortoises upon the rock, at which those fishes bite very eagerly.

Thus equipped with all necessaries for the sport, we agreed with a young fellow, one of the long|boat's crew, belonging to the ship I was come over in, whose master being just come on shore, and not expected to return speedily, he readily consented to row us thither for about the value of a shilling.

Being come to the place, we found extraordina|ry sport; the fishes were so eager, that our lines were no sooner in but we had a bite.

Whilst we were fishing, the young man that row|ed us thither espying a cleft in the rock, through which he saw a light had a mind to see what was on the other side; so put off his clothes in order to wade to it: Thus having taken the hitcher of the

boat, he gropes along for sure footing, the rock be|ing very full of holes.

Being come to the cleft, he creeps through, and in a short time returns, calling to us with precipita|tion, which expressed both joy and surprise. Gen|tlemen! gentlemen! said he, I have made a discov|ery of a new land, and the finest that the sun ever shone on: Leave off your fishing; you'll find here much better business. Having by that time caught a pretty handsome dish of fish, we put up our tackling, fastened our boat to the rock, and so we went to see this new-found land.

Being come at the other side of the rock, we saw as he said, a most delightful country, but despaired of going to it, there being a lake about a mile long at the bottom of the rock, which parted it from the land; for neither Alvarado nor myself could swim; but the young fellow, who could, having leaped in|to 〈…〉〈…〉 finding it all way the but breast-high, we went in also, and waded to the other side, which ascended gently, about five or six feet from the lake, to a most pleasant land, flat and level covered with a curious grass, something like chamomile, but of no smell, and of an agreeable taste: It bore also abundance of fine lofty trees, of different kinds and make; which in several places stood in clusters, composing groves of different height and largeness. Being come to a place where the trees stood in such a disposition as gave out sight a greater scope, we saw, at some distance, a most delightful wood of considerable extent. The agreeableness of the perspective made by Nature, both for the creating of pleasure, and condolence of grief, prompted my curiosity to a view of the delights, which the dist|ance we were at might in some measure, rob us of:

But Alvarado, who, till then, had discerned noth|ing whereby we could judge the island to be in|habited, was fearful, and would not venture far|ther that way, least we should of a sudden be salli|ed upon by wild beasts out of the wood; and, as I could not discommend his precaution, the thickness of it giving room to believe that there might be dan|gerous creatures in it; so we went southward, find|ing numbers of fine trees, and here and there small groves, which we judged to be composed of forty or fifty several trees: But upon examination, we found it to our great amazement, to proceed on|ly from one plant; whose utmost lower branches, bending to the ground, about seven or eight feet from the middle stem, struct root, and became, plants, which did the same; and in that manner covered a considerable spot of ground; still grow|ing less as they stood farthest from the old body.

Having walked some time under that most sur|prising and wonderful plant, admiring the greatness of Nature's works, we went on, finding several of the same in our way, wherein harboured monkeys; but their swift flight prevented our discerning their colours: Yet going on, we found there were two kinds; one having green, backs, yellow faces and bellies; the other grey, with white bellies and fac|es; but both sorts exceeding beautiful.

At some distance we perceived three things stand|ing together, which I took to be houses: I believe, said I, this island is inhabited; for, if I mistake not, yonder, are dwelling-places. So they are said Al|varado; and therefore I don't think it wisdom, to venture any farther, least they should be savages and do us hurt; so would have gone back: But I was resolved to see what they were, and persuaded

him to go on; saying, it would be time enough for us to retreat when we perceived danger. That may be too late, said he: for as evil doth not always succeed danger, danger doth not always precede e|vil; we may be surprised. Well, well, said I, if any people, should come upon us, we must see them at some distance; and if we can't avoid them, here are three of us, a good long staff with an iron point at one end, and an hook at the other; I shall exercise that, and keep them off, at least till you get away: Come along, and fear not. So I pull|ed him along.

Being come near enough to discern better, we found, that what we took for houses were rather ••arbours, being apparently made of green trees:—Then indeed, I began to fancy some wild people in|habited them, and doubted whether it were safe to go nearer; but concealed my doubt, least I should ••ntimidate Alvarado so that he should run away, ••o which he was very much inclined. I only slack|ened my pace, which Alvarado perceiving, imagin|ed that I saw some evil coming, which he thought unavoidable; and not daring to go from his com|pany, he only condoled his misfortune; saying, he dearly repented taking my advice: That he feared we should pay dearly for our silly curiosity; for in|deed those things were more like thieves dens, or wild people's huts, than Christians' habitations.

By this time we were come near a spot of ground, pretty clear of trees, on which some animals were feeding, which I took to be goats, but Alvarado fancied them to be deers, by their swift flight at our appearing: However, I inferred by their shyness, that we were out of the way in our judgment con|cerning the arbours: For, said I, if these were

inhabited, those creatures would not have been so scared at the sight of men; and, if by nature wild, they would not graze so near men's habitations, had there been any body in them. I rather believe some hermit has formerly lived there, and is either dead or gone. Alvarado, who to that time had neither heard nor seen any thing that could contra|dict what I said, began to acquiesce to it, and goes on.

Being come within reach of plain discernment, we were surprised: If these, said I, be the works of savages, they far exceed our expert artists. Their regularity appeared unconfined to the rules of art, and complete architecture without the craft of the artist; nature and time only being capable of bringing them to that perfection. They were nei|ther houses, huts, nor arbours; yet had all the use|fulness and agreements of each.

Having sufficiently admired the uncommon beau|ty of the outside without interruption, but rather diverted with the most agreeable harmony of vari|ous singing birds, as perched on a green hedge which surrounded about one acre of land near the place, we had the curiosity to see the inside; and being nearest the middlemost, we examined that first. It was about nine feet high, and as much square the walls were straight and smooth, covered with green leaves, something like those of a mulberry|tree, lying as close and regular as slates on a slated house; the top went up rounding like a copula and covered in the same manner as the sides; from each corner, issued a straight stem, about twelve feet higher, bare of branches to the top, which 〈◊〉〈◊〉 very full of leaves, and spread over, making a 〈◊〉〈◊〉 pleasing canopy to the mansion beneath.

Being full of admiration at the wonderful struc|ture and nature of the place, we came to a door which was made of green twigs, neatly woven, and fasten|ed, with a small stick, through a loop made of the same.

The door being fastened without, gave us incour|agement to venture in; it being evident that the host was absent; so we opened it, and the first thing we saw, being opposite to the door, was a bed ly|ing on the ground, which was an hard, dry earth, very smooth and clean; we had the curiosity to ex|amine what it was made of, and sound it another subject of admiration. The covering was a mat about three inches thick, made of a sort of grass, which, though as dry as the oldest hay, was as green as a leek, felt as soft as cotton, and was as warm as wool; the bed was made of the same, and in the same manner, but three times as thick; which made it as easy as a down bed: under that lay another, but somewhat harder.

At one side of the room stood a table made of two pieces of thin oak-board, about three feet long, fastened upon four sticks driven into the ground, and by it a chair made of green twigs, as the door; at the other side of the room lay a chest on the ground, like a sailor's small chest; over it, against the wall, hung a linen jacket and breeches, such as seamen wear on board: on another pin, hung a large coat, or gown, made of the same sort of grass, and after the same manner, as the bed's covering, but not above half an inch thick; and a cap by it of the same•• these 〈◊〉〈◊〉 supposed to be a winter garb for somebody.

Having viewed the furniture of the dwelling|place, we examined its fabric which we could not find out by the outside, it being so closely covered

with leaves; but the inside being bare, we found it to be several trees, whose bodies met close, and made a solid wall, which, by the breadth of every stem, we judged to be about six inches thick: their bark being very smooth, and of a pleasant olive colour, made a mighty agreeable wainscotting; the roof, which was hung very thick with leaves, was branches, which reached from end to end, and were crossed over by the side ones that were woven be|tween, which made a very even and smooth ceiling, so thick of leaves and branches that no rain could penetrate. My companion's uneasiness, expecting the ••••ft's return every moment, hindered my examin|ing every thing more narrowly; and having slightly looked into the chest, which lay open, wherein we saw nothing but sheets of parchment, which his haste would 〈…〉〈…〉 me to look into, we went away.

Going out we saw at one corner of the room, behind the door, a couple of firelocks, the sight of which much alarmed my company, and, I must con|fess startled me; for, till then, I was inclinable to believe some hermit dwelt in the place; but finding arms 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the room of a crucifix and religious pic|tures, which were the common ornaments of those religious men, made me waver in my opinion: and having taken the pieces in my hands, which, for rust, appeared not to have bee•• fit for use for many years, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 my former opinion; supposing them to be the effects of some shipwreck, which the hermit found upon the rocks. But my company, persist|ing in their own, hastened out, and would have gone quite away, without seeing any more-had I not, by ma|ny arguments, made them sensible, that if those arms had been intended for the evil use Alvarado had imagined, they would have been kept in better or|der; to which being obliged to acquiesce, he con|sented

to go and examine the other, it being as wor|thy of admiration as that we had seen, though quite of another nature, but much of the same height and make.

The next we came at was covered all over with the same fort of grass as grew on the ground, which lay as even as though it had been mowed and rol|led: behind it was several lodges, made, as it were, for some dogs; but we neither saw nor heard any.

Having viewed the place all round, we posted the young fellow with us at the outside, to give no|tice when any body appeared, lest we should be surprised whilst we saw the inside; so having open|ed the door, which was made and fastened after the manner of the first, we went in expecting to find a|nother dwelling-place, but it proved rather a kitch|en; there being no bed, but only a parcel of shells, of different sizes, which we supposed to be applied for utensils, some being, scorched at the outside as having been on the fire, but exceeding clean with|in; the rest were, both inside and outside, as fine as nakes of pearl.

At the one end of the room was a hole cut in the ground like stew-stoves, in great kitchens; about three or four feet from that there was another fire-place, made of three stones, fit to roast at; in both of which places appeared to have been fire lately, by wood coals, and ashes fresh made 〈◊〉〈◊〉 his confirmed my opinion that it was an hermitate. Alvarado, who all along feared we should meet with men who would misuse us, was not a little pleased to find fire|places in the room of beds, and kitchen utensils in|stead of weapons. I hope, said he, we are not in so great danger as I feared; here cannot be many men, unless they crowd together in yonder place; and if so, they would have been here before now, had

they been in the way. His fears being a great measure dispersed, we looked about more leisurely; and seeing several shells, that were covered, on a shelf that lay cross two sticks that were stuck in the wall which was made of turf, we had the curiosity to see what was in them; and found in one, pickled anchoives; in others, mushrooms, capers, and other sorts of pickles. Let them, said I, be who they will that dwell here, I am sure they know good eating; and therefore, probably, may be no strangers to good manners. Upon another shelf, behind the door, lay divers sorts of dried fishes; and upon the ground stood, uncovered, two chests with fish and flesh in salt.

These provisions being some what too voluptuous for an hermit, gave as room for speculation. I have lived (said Alvarado) at Mexico these six years, and have been at Peru above twenty times and yet ne|ver heard talk of this Island: the access to it is so difficult, and dangerous, that I dare say, we are the first that have been on these sides of the rocks. I am very apt to believe that a company of determin|ed Buccaneers, which are said to frequent these seas, shelter here; and that the habitation we have seen, and this place, belong to their captain; and that the company resorts in caves up and down these rocks. Really I could not well gainsay it, being too probable; yet I would not altogether acquiesce to his opinion, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 thereby should take a motive to go away before ••he had seen the other place. I must confess, said I, here is room for conjectures, but no proof of certainty; however let it be as you say, it is a plain case here are none to disturb us; therefore, whilst we have liberty, let us see the other place: so we fastened the door as we found it, and with to the next which was shut after the same man|ner

as the two preceeding, but made of quite differ|ent stuff; being a complete arbour, composed of trees, planted within a foot of one another, whose branches were woven together in such a regular manner; that they made several agreeable copart|ments, and so close that nothing but air could enter: it was of the same heighth and bigness with the kitchen; which stood at the other end of the dwel|ling-place which made a very uniform wing to it.

The coolness of the arbour removed our doubts of its being another dwelling, unless only used in hot weather.

Having sufficiently viewed the outside, we went in, and found several boards, like dressers or tables in a pantry, on which lay divers broad and deep shells, as beautiful as those in the kitchen; in some of which was butter, in others cream and milk. On a shelf lay several small cheeses, and on another a parcel of roots like Jerusalem artichokes, which seemed to have been roasted. All this did but con|firm the opinion we were in, that it was no hermit|age: there being sufficient to gratify the appetite, as well as to support nature. Therefore, not know|ing what to think of the master of the house, we made no long stay, but concluded to haste, and get our fish dressed, it being near dinner-time; and as the trees stood very thick inland, and might con|ceal men from our sight till we came too near to shun them; we thought it proper to walk on the out|side, near the rocks, that we might see at some dis|tance before us.

Walking along, a phlegm sticking in my throat, I happened to hawk pretty loud; the noise was an|swered from I believe twenty places of the rock, and in as many different sounds; which alarmed Alvar|ado, who took it to be a signal from men concealed up

and down the rock, not considering the difficulty of their coming at us: there being a lake at the foot of it, which they must have been obliged to wade over, and which would have given us time to get a|way: but fear, which often blinds reason, represen|ted the evil infallible to his thought, which was morally impossible. I did all I could to make him sensible they were but echoes; and to convince him thereof, I gave a loud hem, which was answer|ed in like manner; but being a second time repeat|ed, and by a louder voice, I was certain the last did not proceed from me; which put me in appre|hension that somebody, besides myself, had hemmed also. My companion, whose countenance, being turned as pale as death, expressed the excess of his fears, would have run away, had not the voice come from the way we were to go. Now said he, (hard|ly able to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 his words for trembling) you are, I hope, convinced that it would have been safer for us to retire, instead of gratifying your unreasonable curiosity: What do you think will become of us? The young fellow, at these words, falls a weeping, saying, he wished he had missed the getting that mo|ney, which was like to be dearly earned. I must confess, I began to be a little apprehensive of dan|ger, and I wished myself safe away, but concealed my thoughts; heartening them as well as I could: and representing the danger equal, either moving, forwards, or standing still, I at last persuaded them to go on.

We were scarce gone forty paces farther, before we perceived at a considerable distance, something like a man, with another creature, but presently lost them among the trees, before we could have a full view of them; which made every one of us con|ceive a different idea of what we had seen. Alva|rado

would have it to be a giant, and a man of com|mon size with him, and both armed cap-a-pe. The poor lad, who was already as bad as a slave, being bound to an ill natured master, feared death more than bondage: so took what he had seen for some she-bear, and one of her whelps with her, to make her yet more dreadful; and, by all means, would have thrown himself into the lake, in order to get at the other side of the rock: thus the danger ap|peared to each of them to be what they dreaded most: but I was somewhat better composed in mind than they. I gave the object I saw the likeliest re|semblance the time it was in sight would permit, which I could adapt to nothing but a man of com|mon size. and somewhat like a dog with him; so persisting in my opinion, made them waver in theirs; thus we went on something better composed.

Being gone about a hundred yards farther, we saw the same again, but nearer hand, and without interruption, the place being pretty clear of trees: thus, having a full view, we were all, to our great satisfaction convinced, that what we had been ta|king for a formidable giant, and a terrible she-bear, was but an ordinary man; but that which was with him running up a tree as soon as he perceived us, prevented our discerning what animal it was: but the man, who walked on apace, soon came within the reach of a more certain discernment, and ap|peared to be a venerable old man with a worship|ful white beard, which covered his naked breast, and a long head of hair, of the same colour; which spreading over his shoulders, hung down to his loins.

His presence, which inspired respect more than fear, soon recalled the frightened folks scared senses, who to recover this faint heartedness, excused them|selves

by the misrepresentations distance causes on object. The old man, who, by that time was come near enough to discern our speaking English, lets fall a bundle of sticks he had under one arm, and a hatchet he carried in the other hand, and runs to me, being the next to him, embracing me, and saying, Dear countrymen, for I hear ye are English|men by what accident are ye come hither? A place the approach whereof is defended by a thousand perils and dangers, and not to be come at but by a narrow escape of death. Are ye shipwrecked? No, thank God, said I, most reverend father; it was mere curiosity that brought us hither; these perils, which you say defend the approach of this island, being absent by the extraordinary calmness of the sea. But, if I may ask, pray how came you hither? By the help of Providence, replied the good old man; who snatched me out of the ravenous jaws of death, to fix me on this safe and peaceable spot of land. I was shipwrecked, thanks to my Maker, and was saved by my being cast away. I conceive, Sir, said I, you have been chased by some pirates, and escaped slavery, by striking upon the rocks, which surround this Island; but now you have avoided that dismal fate, embrace the lucky opportunity of get|ting away from a place so remote from human as|sistance, which your age makes you stand in need of. This is your mistake, replied the old man: He who trusts in God, needs no other help. I al|low that, Sir, said I; but our trust in God doth not require us to cast away, or despise the help of man. I do not in the least question your piety, but mis|trust the frailty of human nature, and debility of age; therefore would have you come and live within the reach of attendance. You may, without slackening your devotion live in the world; you shall have no

occasion to concern yourself with any cares that may disturb your pious thoughts. No, replied the old man; was I to be made emperor of the whole universe, I would not be concerned with the world again: nor would you require me, did you but know the happiness I enjoy out of it. Come along with me; and if, after you have seen how I live here, you persist in your advice, I will say you have no notion of a happy life. I have, good Sir, said I, already seen, with great admiration, your matchless habitation; but there are other necessaries your age requires; as clothes, to defend the inju|ries of the air, and meat suitable to the weakness of your stomach. This is your mistake, cried the old man, I want for no clothes: I have a change for every season of the year: I am not confined to fashions, but suit my conveniences. Now this is my summer dress; I put on warmer as the weather grows colder: and for meat, I have fish, flesh, and fowls; and as choice as a man can wish for. Come, you shall dine with me, and ten to one but I may give you some venison, and perhaps a dish of wild fowls too; let us go and see what Providence has sent us. So we went to a wood, about a mile far|ther, where he had fastened several low nets, in dif|ferent gaps, in the thicket; in one of which hap|pened to be an animal something like a fawn, twice as big as an hare, the colour of a fox, and faced and footed like a goat. Did I not tell you, said the good man, I might chance to give you venison? Now let us look after the fowls. So we went a little farther, at a place where he had hung a long net between high trees, at the bottom of which was fastened a bag of the same to receive the fowls; who in the night, being stopped by the net fluttered to the bot|tom. There happened also to be game. A couple

of wild fowls made like woodcock, but of the big|ness and colour of pheasant, were taken at the bot|tom of a bag. Now, said the old man, these I have, without committing the sin of bidding less for them than I know they are really worth, or making the poulterers swear they cost them more than they real|ly did. Well, now I may give you a dish of fish also. It is but going half a mile, or thereabouts. There is no need Sir, said I, for any more, there are but four of us, and here is provision for half a score; but if you are disposed for fish, we have some in a boat on the other side of a rock; it is but going for them. Very well, said the old man; it is but going about a mile, then strip and wade over a lake, then climb up a rugged rock twice back|ward and forward, to fetch what we can have for only taking a pleasant walk, all the while diverted with the sweet harmony of a number of fine birds. Look here: this complaisance often puts men to a world of needless trouble: come we'll make a shift to pick a dinner out of these. Plenty! said the old man; why, I tell ye, this is a second garden of E|den; only here is no forbidden fruit, nor women to torment a man. I see, Sir, said I, Providence supplies you plentifully with necessaries, if age does not deprive you of strength. Age! replied the old man, why I am not so old as that comes to neither: I was but eight-and twenty when I was cast away, and that is but fifty years ago. Indeed if I lived as you do that dwell in the wise world, who hurry on your days as if your end came on too flow, I might be accounted old. I do not gain-say, rever|end father, but that you bear your age wonderful well; but a multiplicity of days must make the strongest nature bend: yes, time will break the toughest, constitution, and by what you say, you

have seen a considerable number of years. Yes, replied the old man, a few days have run over my head, but I never strove to out-run them, as they do that live too fast. Well, says he, you are a young man, and have seen fewer days than I; yet you may be almost worn out: Come, match this, says he. With that he gave a hem, with such strength and clearness, that the sound made my ears tingle for some minutes after. Indeed, Sir, said I, you have so far outdone what I can pretend to do, that I will not presume to imitate you. Then I am afraid, said he, you will prove to be the old man. Well, then, you, or your friend, the strongest of you, fetch hither that stone; it does not look to be very heavy (pointing at a large stone which lay about two yards off.) I'll endeavour, Sir, said I, to roll it; for I dare say, it is past my strength to lift it. So, to please the old man, I went to take it up; but could hardly move it. Come, come, said the old gentleman, I find that must be work for me. With that he goes, takes up the stone, and tosts it to the place he bid me bring it. I see, said he, you have not exerted your strength too often, which makes you now so weak: Well, you see the advantages of living re|mote from the world. Had you less of human as|sistance, I am apt to believe you would not want it so soon as you are likely to do. Come, let us make much of that little strength we have left, taking ne|cessary support at proper times: it is now past noon; therefore let us lose no time, but haste home to get our dinner ready. So we went back to the place where the bundle of sticks lay, which we made the young fellow with us carry, and went directly to the kitchen; where, whilst he made a fire, one uncased the animal, and the other two pulled the fowls. I am sorry, said the old man, you must take that trouble;

but your presence has frightened away my servant, who used to do that work for me. Have you a ser|vant, then, Sir? said I. Yes, said he, and one & native of this island. Then I find, Sir, said I, this island is inhabited. Yes, answered the old man, with monkeys and myself, but no body else, thank God; otherwise I can tell you, I should hardly have lived so long. Then. Sir, said I, that was it we saw run up a tree. Yes, said he, my monkey like my|self, loves not much company. Pray, Sir, said I, how did you bring him so much under command, as to keep with you when he has the liberty to run away? I wonder the old ones do not entice him from you. I had him young, replied the old man, and made very much of him, which those creatures dearly love: besides, when he was grown up, the wild ones would not suffer him amongst them; so that he was forced to remain with me. I had ano|ther before this; but he, I may say, was sent by Providence, both to be an help and diversion for me; for he was so knowing that he took a great deal of labour off my hands, and dispersed many anxious hours, which the irksomeness of my solitude had created. It is now about twelve years since; for I keep a memorial, which indeed I designed to have been a journal; but I unfortunately let the regular order of the days slip out of my memory; however, I obseved a seventh day, and reckoned the years from winter to winter; so I cannot well mistake.

One day, when I had roasted a quantity of roots, which I eat instead of bread, having spread them on my table and chest to cool, in order to lay them by for use; I went out, leaving my door open, to let the air in.

Having walked an hour or two, I returned home, where I found the monkey, whom the smell of the

hot roots and brought: who, during my absence, had been eating. My presence very much surpri|sed 〈◊〉〈◊〉 yet still he kept his place, only discontinued eating 〈◊〉〈◊〉 me in the face: The unexpected guest at once startled me and filled me with admi|ration; for, certainly no creature of its kind could be compared to it, for beauty. His back was a lively green, his face and belly of a lively yellow; his coat, all over, shining like burnished gold. The extraordinary beauty of the creature raised in me an ardent desire to keep him; but I despaired of ever making him ••ame, being come to his full growth: therefore having resolved to keep him tied, I went in and shut the door. The beast, which, till then, had not offered to make his escape, appeared very much disturbed and stared about him for some place to get out at: perceiving his disord•••• I did not advance, but turned my back to him, so give him time to compose himself, which he did in a short time, as appeared by his falling to eat again; which made me conceive hopes that I should, in time, make him familiar. Having about me stale roasted roots which eat much pleasanter than the fresh, and are less stuffing, I threw some at him, at which he seem|ed displeased, and stood still a while, staring in my face; but my looking well pleased, which I be|lieve the animal was sensible of, made him pick them up, and fall to eating with a fresh appetite. I was overjoyed at his easy composure; so reached him water in a shell, that the want of nothing might in|duce him to a retreat. I set it down as near him as I could without disturbing him, he came to it very orderly, and having drank his fill, he laid it down, and looked me in the face, carelessly scratching his backside; seeing he had done, I advanced, and took away the shell, at which he never stired.

The forward disposition of the beast towards a perfect familiarity, made me resolve to stay within the remainder of the day, no wise questioning but my company would, in a great measure, advance it. So I made shift to sup upon a few roots I had about me, and went pretty early to bed; where I was no sooner said, but the creature got across the feet therof and continued very quiet till the next mor|ning, when I got up; which time he was also watching my actions. I made very much of him, which he took very composedly; standing still to be stroaked. Then, indeed I thought myself, in a manner secure of him, and gave him his belly full, as I had done the day before; but, having a pressing occasion to go out, I went to the door, thinking to shut him in till my return: but he followed me so close, that I could not open it without endangering his getting out; which, though he appeared pretty tame, I did not care to venture, our acquaintance being so very new; yet, as I was obliged to go, I did run the hazard; so opened the door by degrees, that, in case the beast should offer to run, I might take the opportunity to slip out and keep him in but the creature never offering to go any farther than I went, I trusted him to go with me, hoping that, if he went away, the kind usage he 〈◊〉〈◊〉 with would, one day or other, make him come back again: but, to my great surprise, as well as satisfaction, he readily returned with me, having waited my time, yet, as I had occasion to go out a second time, wanting sticks to make a fire, for which I was obliged to go near the place where most of his kind resorted, I was afraid to trust him with me, least he should be decoyed by the others; therefore, having taken up a bundle of cords, with which I tie up my faggots, I watched an opportunity to get

out, and leave him behind: but the beast was cer|tainly apprehensive of my design; for he always kept near the door, looking stedfastly at my bundle of cords as desirous of such another; which I not having for him, cut a piece off mine, and gave it him: and, seeing I could not leave him be|hind, ventured to let him go with me, which he did very orderly, never offering to go one step out of the way; though others of his kind, came to look at him as he went by.

Being come to the place where I used to cut dry sticks, having cut down a sufficient quantity, I be|gan to lay some across my cord. The creature ha|ving taken notice of it, did the same to his, and with so much dexterity and agility, that his faggot was larger, and sooner made than mine; which by that time being large enough, and as much as he could well carry, I bound it up: which set him to do the same with his, which was abundantly too large a load for him.

Our faggots being made, I took up that which had made, to see how he would go about taking up his; which being too heavy for him, he could not lift: so running round it, I believe, twenty times he looked me in the face, as craving help. Having been sufficiently diverted with the out of the way shifts he made, I gave him mine, and took up his: the poor animal appeared overjoyed at the ex|change; therefore cheerfully takes up the bundle, and follows me home.

Seeing myself, according to all probability, sure of the dear creature, whose late actions gave me such ground to hope from him both service and pleasure. I returned my hearty thanks to kind Prov|idence for its late prodigious gift; for certainly it was never heard of before, that, in a desert place,

one of those wild animals, who fly at the single ap|pearance f••an human creature, should voluntarily give itself to a man, and, from the very beginning, be so docile and tractable. O! surely it was endued with more than natural instinct! for perfect reason was seen in all its actions. Indeed I was happy whilst I had him; but my happiness, alas! was not of long standing. As he spoke, I perceived tears in his eyes. Pray, Sir, said I, what became of that wonderful creature? Alas! said he, he was killed by monkeys of the other kind, which fell upon him one day, as he was going for water by himself: for the poor dear creature was grown so knowing, that if, at any time, either firing or water was wanted, I had nothing to do but give him the bundle of cords, or the empty vessel, and he would straight go and fetch either: in short, he wanted nothing but speech to complete him for human society. Indeed, Sir, said I, I cannot blame you for bemoaning the loss of so incomparable a creature; the account you give of him well entitles his memory to regret: but I hope this you have now, in a great measure, makes up your loss.—O! not by far, replied the old man: Indeed, he goes about with me, will carry a faggot, or a vessel of water, pick a fowl, turn the spit or string, when the meat is a-roasting: yet he is nothing like my late dear Beausiddle; for so I called that most lovely creature; besides, this is unlucky; for in imitating me, he often does me mischief. It was but the other day that I had been writing for five or six hours; I had occasion to go out, and hap|pened to leave my pen and ink upon the table, and the parchment I had been writing on close by it: I was no sooner gone, but the mischievous beast falls to work, scribling over every word I had been writing; and when he had done, he lays it by in

the chest. as he saw me do what I had written, and takes out another, which he does the same to, and so to half a score more; my return prevented his doing more mischief: however, in a quarter of an hour, that I was absent, he blotted out as much as I had been full six months writing. Indeed I was angry, and could have beaten him: but that I considered my revenge would not have repaired the damage, but rather, perhaps, add to my loss, by ma|king the beast run away. Pray, Sir, said I, how came you by him? Did he also give himself to you? No, replied the old man, I had him young, and by mere accident, unexpected and unsought for; ha|ving lost both time and labour about getting one in the room of him I had so unfortunately lost. The old ones are so fond of their young, that they never are from them, unless in their play they chace one an|other into the other kind's quarters, where their dams dare not follow them: for they are such en|emies to one another, that they watch all opportu|nities, to catch all they can of the contrary sort, which they immediately strangle: which keeps their increase very backward, that would otherwise grow too numerous for the food the island produces; which is I believe the cause of their animosity.

About eight years ago, which is the time I have had this beast, I was walking under one of the clus|ters of the trees where the green sort of monkies harbour, which being the largest and most shady in the island, I took the most delight therein: as I was walking a small distance from me this creature dropt off a 〈◊〉〈◊〉, and lay for dead, which being of the grey kind, made me wonder less at the acci|dent. I went, and took him up; and, accidentally handling his throat, I opened his windpipe, which was almost squeezed close by that which took him,

which my sudden coming prevented from strangling quite. I was extremely well pleased at the event, by which I got what my past cares and diligence never could produce me. Having pretty well re|covered its breath, and seeing no visible hurt about it, I imagined that I soon might recover it quite: so hastened home with it, gave it warm milk, and laid it on my bed: so that with careful nursing, I quite recovered him: and, with good keeping, made the rogue thrive to that degree, that he has outgrown the rest of his kind. No question, Sir, said I, ha|ving taken such pains with him, you love him as, well as his predecessor. I cannot say so, neither, replied the old man; though I cannot say but that I love the creature; but its having the ill fortune to be of that unlucky kind which was the death of my dear Beaufiddle, in a great measure lessons my af|fection. Besides, he falls so short, both of his mer|it and beauty, that I must give the deceased the preference: and, was it not for his cunning tricks, which often divert me, I should hardly value him, at all; but he is so very cunning and facc••ious, that he makes me love him, notwithstanding I mortally hate his kind. I must divert you while dinner is getting ready, with an account of some of his tricks.

Being extremely fond of me, he very seldom would be from me, but followed me every where, and as he used to go with me when I went to examine my nets, seeing me now and then take out game, he would, of his own accord, when he saw me busy writing go and fetch what happened to be taken.

One day finding a fowl in the net bag, he pulled, it alive as he brought it home; so that I could not see any thing whereby to discern its kind. As soon as he came i•••• he set it down with such mo|tions as expressed joy: the poor naked fowl was no

sooner out of his clutches, but that it took to its legs, for want of wings: its sudden escape so surprised the captor, that he stood amazed for a while, which gave the poor creature time to gain a considerable scope of ground; but the astonished beast being recover|ed from his surprize, soon made after it; but was a considerable time before he could catch it, having nothing to lay hold of; so that the fowl would slip out of his hands. The race held about a quarter of an hour, in which time the poor creature having run itself quite out of breath, was forced to lie down before its pursuer, who immediately threw himself upon it; so took it up in his arms and brought it home, but was not so ready to set it down as before: for he held it by one leg till I laid hold of it.

I had a second time as good diversion, but after another manner. One morning early, whilst I was busy in my cottage, he went out, unperceived by me: and having been a considerable time absent, I feared that such another accident had befallen him as that which happened to his predecessor; so I went to see after him; and as he would go and vis|it the nets in the woods, I went there first, where I found him very busy with such an animal as this we have here, which he found taken in one of the gap|nets, and, being near as big as he, he kept him a great while struggling for ma••ership; sometimes he would take it by the ears, now and then by one leg, next by the tail; but could not get him along; at last he laid hold of one of his hind legs, and with the other hand smote him on the back, in order to drive him, not being able to pull him along; but the beast being too strong, still made towards the thicket, where he certainly would have hauled the driver, had I not come up to help him. The old gentleman entertained us with his monkey's 〈◊〉〈◊〉 whilst dinner was dressing.

The dinner being ready, we went to the dwelling place to eat it, leaving the young fellow that was with us to attend the roasted meat, while we eat the first dish.

The old gentleman having laid the ••loth, which tho' something coarse, being made out of part of a ship's sail, was very clean, he laid three large shells on it a|bout the bigness of a middle-sized plate, but as beauti|ful as any nakes of pearl I ever saw, Gentlemen, say she, if you can eat off of shells, you are welcome; I have no better plates to give you. Sir, said I, these are preferable to silver ones, in my opinion; and I very much question whether any prince in Europe can produce so curious a service. They may be richer, replied the old man, but not cleaner.

The first dish he served was soup in a large deep shell, as fine as the first, and one spoon made of shell, which he said was all his stock, ••••ing not used to, or expecting company: however, he fetched a couple of mussel shells, which he washed very clean; then gave Alvarado one, and took the other himself, ob|liging me to make use of the spoon: so we sat down, Alvarado and I upon the chest, which we drew near, the table; and the old gentleman (though much against his will) upon the chair.

Being sat down, we sell to eating the soup, whose fragrant smell inv••••ed my appetite; and I profess, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 taste thereof ••as so excellent, that I never eat any comparable to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 at Pomac's, nor any where be|fore: It was made of one half the beast we took in the morning, with several sor••s of herbs, which eat like artichokes, asparagus, and celery; there was also bits of roasted roots in it, instead of toasted bread, which added much to the richness of it, tast|ing like chesnuts: But, what surprised me most there were pease in it, whose extra ordinary sweetness was,

discernible from every other ingredient. Pity, said I the access to this island is so difficult: what a blessed spot of land would it make, were it but in|habited! Here naturally grows what in Europe we plow, till, and labour hard for. You say, replied the old man, this would be a blessed spot of ground, if it was inhabited: Now I am quite of another opin|ion; for I think its blessing consists in its not being inhabited, being free of those curses your populous and celebrated cities abound in; here is nothing but praises and thanksgivings heard: And as for nature bestowing freely, and of her own accord, what in Europe you are obliged, by industry and hard labour, in a manner to force from her, wonder not at. Consider how much you daily rob her of her due, and charge her with slander and calumny; do not you frequently say, if a man is addicted to any vice, that it is his nature, when it is the effect and fruit of his corruption? So nature, who attended the great origin of all things at the creation, is now, by vile wretches, deemed in a fault for all their wicked|ness: Had man remained in his first and natural state of innocence, nature would also have contin|ued her original indulgence over him: We may now think ourselves very happy, if that blessing at|tends our labour which before the fall of man flow|ed on him, accompanied with ease and pleasure.

Now these pease, which have so much raised your surprise, are indeed the growth of this island, though not its natural product, but the gifts of Pro|vidence, and the fruits of labour and industry. I have tilled the ground; Providence procured the seed; nature gave it growth, and time increase: With seven pease and three beans, I have, in four years time, raised seed enough to stock a piece of ground, out of which I gather yearly, a sufficient

quantity for my use; besides preserving fresh seed. No doubt, Sir, said I, but when right means are taken prosperity will attend. By that time, having eaten sufficiently of the soup, he himself would car|ry the remains to the young man in the kitchen, and fetch in the boiled meat and oyster-sauce, which he brought in another shell much of the same nature with that which the soup was served in, but something shallower, which eat as delicious as house lamb.

Having done with that, he fetches in the other half of the beast roasted, and several sorts of deli|cate pickles, which I never eat of before, and mush|rooms, but of a curious colour, flavour, and taste. These, said he, are the natural product of a particu|lar spot of ground; where, at a certain time of the year, he said he gathered for the space of six day only, three sizes of mushrooms: For tho' they were all buttons, and fit to pickle, yet, by that time he had gathered all, he had also some to stew, and some about four inches over, which he broiled, and they eat as choice as any veal cutlet.

These pickles, Sir, said I though far exceeding any I ever did eat in Europe, are really at this time needless; the meat wanting nothing to raise its rel|ish; no flesh being more delicious.

Having done with that, I offered to take it away, but he in no wife would permit me; so went away with it himself, and brought the fowls, at which I was somewhat vexed; for I feared I should find no room in my stomach for any, having eat so heartily of the meat, but having, at his pressing request, test|ed them, my appetite renewed at their inexpressible deliciousness: so I fell to eating afresh.

Having done with that dish, the young man having nothing to do in the kitchen, came and was bid to take

away, and fall to; In the mean time, the good old man fetched us, out of his diary, a small cheese of his own making, which being set down, he related to us the unaccountable manner he came by the Ant••lopes which supplied him with the milk it was made with; which introduced several weighty re|marks on the wonderful acts of Providence, and the strictness of the obligations we lie under to our great Benefactor; like the vast encouragment we have to love and serve God, the benefits and com|forts of a clear conscience, as the inestimable trea|sure of content: From that he epitomized the dif|ferent tempers and dispositions of men, much com|mending timely education as being a means to re|verse and change evil inclinations; highly praising the charity of those pious people, who choose to bestow good schooling-upon poor folks children be|fore clothing, and even food; the first being rather the most necessary, and the last easiest to come at.

That discourse being ended, he enquired very care|fully after the state of his dear native country, which he said he left fifty years ago in a very indulgem disposi|tion. I gave him the best account I could at that time of all the transactions that had happened in England since his absence. The relation of past evils, said he, are like pictures of earthquakes and shipwreck, which affect the mind but slightly: And though I think myself out of any prince's power, yet I shall always partake of my countrymen's grief: Pray be explicit; What King have you now? A com|plete patriot, and father to his subjects, said I; both tender-hearted and merciful, encouraging virtue, and suppressing vice, a promoter of religon, and an example of charity. Then, said he, in a manner which expressed zeal and joy, long may that pious monarch live, and his blessed posterity for ever

grace the British throne! And may Old England by its faithful obedience and loyalty, henceforth atone for its past, rebellions, that it may remove that exe|crable reproach that it now lies under! To which we all said, Amen. Then he filled up the shell we drank out of, and drank good king George's health, which was succeeded by that of the royal family, and prosperity to the church. Thus ended a most delicious and splendid dinner, and a conversation both delightful and instructive: But, having not as then mentioned any thing about his history, which I exceedingly longed to enquire into, I begged him to inform us by what accident he came hither, and how he had so long maintained a good state of health. To which he answered time would not permit him to relate his own history, being very long, and the remainder of the day too short: but that he would before we parted, give it in writing; having for want of other occupation, made a memorial: But as to the maintaining of his health, he would tell me by word of mouth. The receipt, said he, is both short and easy; yet I fear you will not be able to follow it: Look you, you must use none but whole|some exercises, observe a sober diet, and live a pi|ous life: Now if you can confine yourself to this way of living, I'll be bound that you will both pre|serve your health and waste less money: But, what is more valuable than all that, you will not endan|ger your precious soul. I returned him thanks for his good advice, and promised him I would observe it as strict as I could. I am afraid, replied he, that will not be all: you have too many powerful ob|stacles, the world and the flesh, from whom your af|fections must be entirely withdrawn, and all com|merce prohibited, which is morally impossible whil•• living: Therefore, since you are obliged to con|verse

with the world, I will give you a few cautions, which, if rightly taken, may be of use to you.

Make not the world your enemy, nor rely too much on its fidelity.

Be not too free with your friend: repetitions of favours often wear out friendship.

Waste not you vigor or substance on women, lest weakness and want be your reward.

Secrets are not safe in a woman's breast; it is a confinement the sex cannot bear.

Pass no contract over liquor; wine overcomes reason, and dulls the understanding.

He who games puts his money in jeopardy, and is not sure of his own.

There is but little honor to wager on sure grounds, and less wisdom to lay upon chance.

And in all your dealings take this for a constant rule:

He whom unlawful means advance to gain, Instead of comfort, finds a constant pain: What e'en by lawless arts we do possess, Old age and sickness make it comfortless. Be rul'd by me, not to increase your store By means unjust; for 'twill make you poor, Take but your due, and never covet more.

I returned him thanks for his good morals, the copy of which I begged he would give me in writ|ing, for my better putting them in practice: to which he readily consented, wishing I might observe them; and being very sure that I should reap a con|siderable benefit thereby, both here and hereafter.

The day being pretty far spent, I was obliged to think of going, which grieved me much; for I was so taken with his company, that if I had not had a father and mother, whose years required my pres|ence, I would have spent the rest of my days with him. I was so delighted with his company, and

pleased with his way of living, that I almost, over|looked my duty; but, after a struggle with my in|clination, I was obliged to yield to nature. Thus, having expressed my vexation to leave so good a man, I took my leave. The good old man per|ceiving my regret to leave him, could not conceal his to part with me. Indeed, said he, with tears in his eyes, I should have been very glad to have had a fellow-creature in this solitary island, especially one whom I think possessed of a good inclination; which I perceive you have, by your reluctance at leaving this innocent garden of life. I imagine that you have relations in the world that may stand in need of you; Heaven protect you, and send you safe to them! I do not imagine that you will ever see this island again; nor would I advise you to venture, the approach of it is so dangerous: There|fore, before you go, let me shew you some of he rarities with which it abounds. I told him, I was afraid time would not permit; but as he said, that about an hour or two would do, and we had day|light enough, I went along with him.

Going out, and seeing the guns stand behind the door, I asked what he did with them? I keep them, said he, for a trophy of Providence's victory over my enemies, and a monument of my fourth mirac|ulous deliverance. As we went along, he related to us the manner in which he had been once sacri|ligiously robbed once by Indians; villainously, is vested twice by pirates; the ruffians having com|bined to carry him away, like a slave to their own country, and there make a shew of him, as if he had been a monster.

Talking we walked under several of the before mentioned clusters of trees which proceed from one single plant: Being come to one larger than

the rest, and which he said he frequented most, it being the largest in the island; this, said he, covers, with its own branches, a whole acre of land; so made several remarks on the wonderful works of Nature; which, said he, were all intended for the use and pleasure of man; every thing in the universe containing such different virtues and properties as were requisite to render life happy. From that he made several more reflections on the fatal effects of disobedience; which is accounted a slight breach in duty, but is the mother of all sins.

That discourse held for a considerable time till a parcel of each different kind of monkeys, having met, fell to fighting, observing an admirable order during the affray; which withdrew our admiration from the preceding subject, and stopt us a while to observe them.

The seu••••••e was very diverting while it lasted, which was but a short time; for they happened to perceive us, at which they parted, each sort running to their own quarters, which were not very distant from one another, so that from it they could see each other's motions. I am sorry, said I, the battle was so soon over; they cuffed one another so pret|tily, that I could have stood an hour to see them. If you like the sport, said the old man, I can soon set them at it again. With that he takes out of his breeche's pocket some roasted roots, which he com|monly carried about him, to throw at them when he went that way, which made them less shy of him.

Having broke the root in bits, he laid them down in their sight; for they on both sides were peeping from under the leaves of the trees where they har|boured: Then he cuts a score of sticks, about the bigness of one's finger, and near a soot and an half long, and laid them over the bits of roots: Then

we retired to some small distance, and hid ourselves behind the trees.

We were no sooner out of sight but that they hast|ened to the meat; the green monkeys, having less ground to go, were at them first; yet never stopt, but went on to hinder the others approach, who vigorous|ly strove to gain ground. The struggle was hard, and the victory often wavering; each party alternately gave way: At last the grey sort kept the advantage, and drove their adversaries back, who being come where the sticks lay, immediately took them up and charged their enemies with fresh courage, like a yielding army that has recieved new forces: Thus, with their clubsters in the front, they fell on their adversaries with great vigor, knocking them down like our English mob at an election; so drove them back again almost to their own quarters.

In the mean time, stragglers of both the kinds, who had not joined with the main bodies of the ar|mies, seeing the coast clear, and the provisions un|guarded, unanimously fell to plunder, and quietly did eat what their comrades fought for; which the combatants perceiving, left off fighting, and of one accord turned upon the plunderers, who, by that time having devoured the booty, left them the field without contending any farther.

The battle being over, the old gentleman would have us to go on, left, said he, they should fall to it again out of revenge; for those creatures are very spiteful.

Having dispersed them by our advancing, as in|tended, we walked from under the trees at the out|side to have a better view of the rock, which in some places, he said, changes its form as one ap|proaches it: And, as the said, being got clear of the trees, we saw at a distance, as it were, a considera|ble

number of buildings, and here-and-there some|thing like steeples, which represented an handsome city: and seemingly the houses appeared so plain, that had I not been apprized of the illusion. I should have taken it for such; but Alvarado and the young fellow, could not be pursuaded but what we saw were really buildings, and even in the island, though the old gentleman made us stop a while, the better to observe every thing; then bid us keep our eyes fixed at what we looked at, and go on: We per|ceived every particular of what we observed to change its form; that which at first seemed to be fronting, shewed itself either sideways or backwards; and so of every object, till being come at a certain distance, all the agreeableness of the perspective, of a sudden turned its real shape like a phantom; which, whilst visible, screens that which it stands before; but by its vanishing, leaves discovered.

Being come as near the rock as the lake that parts it would permit, we could discern nothing in it that could in the least soften its ruggedness, or give it a more agreeable aspect, than those which are represented in the pictures of shipwrecks.

The old gentleman, thereupon made several learned observations on the alterations that distance works upon objects, and shewed how easily our or|gans of sight may be deceived: drawing from them this inference, that we ought not to be too positive of the reality of what we see afar off, nor to affirm for truth that which we only heard of.

Having ended that discourse, he carried us to the other side of the jetting part of the rock, which, advancing like a bastion of a fortified wall, screened from our eyes a second piece of wonder; a fine rainbow, issuing, as it were, out of the mouth of a giant, lying on a rock, reaching quite over the lake:

At the bottom of it I could not but stop to admire the various colours it consisted of, which far ex|ceeded in beauty and liveliness, any I ever saw in the sky, I presently imagined that it proceeded from the rays of the sun falling upon some pond or other standing water, whose reflections rose, and met the tops; which caused that beautiful circle. But Al|varado, who, by what he had seen before, conclud|ed that the island was inchanted, said it was another illusion, which the place was full of; and would have gone away, but that the old man fell a laugh|ing, and said, it is a sign you seldom inquire into natural causes; Well, do but come a little nearer to it, and you will find that which you term an illu|sion, is the natural effect of all fountains when the sun shines.

Being come to the place it proceeded from, it proved, as he said, only a fountain, but of the clear|est and sweetest water that ever was tasted; but the place it issued out of was changed from the likeness of a giant to that of some strange sort of creature; which, though having no particular resemblance, yet would bear being compared to several different things. The old man's opinion was, that it resem|bled a whale spitting water out at one nostril. Al|varado supposed it was more like an horse or a cow; and rather the last, there being horns plain to be seen. For my part, I could find no proper simili|tude to it, but that of an old ruined monument, which formerly they built over the heads of springs. Timothy Anchors (for that was the name of the young fellow that was with us) being asked, what he could make of it? Why, really, said he, nothing unless it be an old patched up pump that stands at the end of my mother's court in Rosemary-lane (which every spring runs out of itself); which com|parison made us all laugh.

Thus we differed in our opinions as to the like|ness, yet agreed, that it was the finest fountain, and the best water we ever saw or drank. What sur|prised me most, was, the force wherewith it sprung from the rock that stood full five yards from the place it fell on, which was another subject of admi|ration; for certainly the art of man could not have invented nor completed a more compact or pleasant|er bason though it had been for a fountain, to adorn a monarch's garden: Indeed there were no masons, nor any expert artist's exquisite works to be seen, but a great deal of Nature's matchless understand|ing: Their regularity, dimension, and proportion, concerted to make it useful, convenient, and a|greeable.

The bason was very near round, about eight feet diameter, a bank around it near a foot high, and as broad at the top, slanting gently at the bottom, both inside and outside, which made a most pleasant and uniform bank, adorned with various small flowers and herbs of beautiful colours, and most fragrant smells.

Having viewed with pleasure and amazement such regularity in a wild and uninhabited place, I walked about as long as the time I could stay would permit: I proposed going, but the old gentleman, taking me by the hand, stopt me: You have said he, bestowed a considerable time in observing the fertility of this island; now pray allow one minute for consideration: The object you have been ad|miring all this time is as wonderful and surprising, as beautiful and pleasant; You see this fountain, which runs stiff, and as large as your thumb, and therefore by computation, may be allowed to give near an hundred gallons of water in an hour: Now it runs night and day; it neither decreases nor runs

over its bank, but keeps to the same height. This, as you say, Sir, said I, is really worth inquiring into: So I went several times round it, searching for the place whereby the overplus of the complement did issue; but could not discover it. Come, said he seek no more for that which nature has so well concealed; I have spent many hours in that in|quiry, and still remain ignorant; but I have found the place out of which it runs into a fine fish-pond, about a mile inland; we will make it in our way to the lake; we may look at it as we go by, but can make no long stay. So we went on.

Going along, we came by an hollow part of the rock, which went in like an alcove, with a great many concavities in it, in rows one above another as round niches where figures stand. Now, said the old man, we are here, I will entertain you with an invisible chorus of harmonious voices, little infe|rior to hautboys, trumpets, or other melodious mu|sic: Here I twice come and pay my devotions each day. Alvarado, who, by what he had already seen, was prepossessed that the island was full of inchant|ments, was now certain of it: and looked upon that place in the rock to be the receptacle of fiends, and evil spirits; so would by no means stay; but takes his leave, saying, he was not very curious of super|natural things. Supernatural, said the old man, you cannot well call it, though to you it may be very amazing: It is therefore well deserving your sight; I mean your hearing; the eyes having no share in the entertainment: We shall only sing a few psalms: I am sure there can be no harm in that, but rather good, being an holy exercise in Divine Worship, in which all good souls ought to join. That may be, said Alvarado; but I love to see those with whom I worship: I do not as yet think myself com|pany

for spirits. As for your part, said Alvarado, (speaking to me) you may do what you please: but take care your curiosity does not cost you too dear Tim and I will wait for you in the boat; but pray be not too long before you come. So, having re|turned the old gentleman thanks for his kind enter|tainment, they went away; at which the good man was much affronted. What! said he, do your friends imagine I deal with spirits? Besides, where did they ever hear, that devils loved to sing psalms? For here shall nothing else be sung: I would not for the world, that those admirable echoes, that hitherto have repeated nothing but the Almighty's praises, should be polluted with the sound of any profane words. I endeavoured to excuse their timourousness, saying, it was not a failing peculiar to themselves only, but to many besides. The old man allowed it, attributing the cause thereof to a very pernicious custom nurses have to frighten chil|dren when they cry, with bugbears, and such things, to make them quiet; which frightful ideas often make such deep impressions on their puerile minds, that when they come to mature age it is hardly worn out; which intimidates many.

That discourse being ended, we advanced as near that part of the rock as the lake would permit, which in that place was not above seven or eight feet broad; so that we were within the concavity of the rock. Now, said the old man, let us sit down on this bank, and sing the hundred-and-seventeenth psalm. In|deed, Sir, said I, I do not know it by heart, and I have no psalm-book about me. Well then, said he, I will sing myself: so begins; but with such a clear and loud voice, managed with so much skill and judgment, that it exceeded all the singing I ev|er heard before; and was repeated by such a num|ber

of melodious echoes, that one would have be|lived there were an hundred voices in chorus.

The 〈…〉〈…〉 transported me, that I willingly would have 〈…〉〈…〉 only the remainder of the day, but the succeeding also; the ecstacy having quite put out of my mind the necessity of my going, and the danger of delaying: But the good man having sung an evening hymn after the psalm which he said he sung every night, he takes by the hand: Now, said he, is not this emulation? Who would not sing with such a chorus of choristers as you might ima|gine was there? Indeed, Sir, said I, this has so great a resemblance to the relation we have given us in holy history of the superior joys the blessed possess in heaven, that I thought myself already there; for which reason I would willingly end my days here. This is impossible, said the old gentle|man; nor can you spend here many more mo|ments: I have the fish-pond to shew you yet; come let us go. So we went on about fifty paces from thence more inland: We say at a small distance be|tween the trees, a parcel of fowls like ducks, but considerably larger, which flew away from the pond; at our approach towards them. He told me how he came by the old one that bred them, of which he was robbed.

At length being come to the pond, I was surprised at the clearness of the water, at the bottom of which seemed to be large rubies, emeralds, jacinths, and other coloured stones; till being come to the brink of it, those which I took for precious stones, prov|ed to be fishes by their swimming about, which, to my thinking looked like stars shooting from place to place in the sky. Having spent several minutes in admiring the surprising nature and beauty of the fish|es, I took notice of the pond, which was about forty

yards in length, and near thirty in breadth: Its form was a broken oval; sinking in and out here-and-there, which made it the more agreeable: All around it grew divers sorts of herbs intermixed with flowers of different colours and here-and-there a basket on sticks, which the old man told me he made and set there for his ducks to breed in. The day being far spent, the old man, after having shewed me the places at one side of the pond wherein the bason emptied itself, as also the other side whereby the pond ran into the lake, takes me by the hand: Come, said he, I will keep you no longer; night comes on a pace, and the retreat from this island is dangerous; there|fore I would have you improve the short remains of the day, to avoid the dangers the darkness of the night may lead you into: So let us go home, that I may give you the memorial I have promised you, and then my blessing, and hearty prayers for your safe departure, and happy arrival. So we went to his habitation, where he gave me a roll of parch|ment.

Here it is, said he, in a rough and unpolite lan|guage; for I did not write it out of ostentation, or to exert my parts, but to keep me in mind of the many mercies I have received from Heaven ever since my youth, and to record the wonderful effects of Providence; that if ever these writings should have the luck to fall into the hands of men after my decease, they might be an encouragement to the des|titute, and a comfort to the afflicted, that he who right|ly applies himself and firmly trusts in the Almighty, shall, at his extremity, find relief: And now my in|tent is in some measure answered, expecting you will revise and publish it when you come to Old England, I must enjoin you not to give it out as my own dictation, but an history taken from

heads out of my memorial; for I have been obliged to insert particulars, and use such expressions, with|out which the account I give of myself would have been imperfect; and which being related as by me, may chance to be accounted self-flattery, which is a censure I would willingly avoid. I told him he might depend upon it, I should always, and on all accounts, be very tender of any thing that could in the least lessen the merit of subjects, or tarnish the lustre of the history.

With that the good man takes me in his open arms, and embraced me over and over with all the tenderness words and actions could express; say|ing, with tears in his eyes, that my exit was renew|ing his pall grief, and would for a considerable time damp the pleasures he before my coming did enjoy in his solitude; since now he again has had the com|fort to converse with one of his dear countrymen, after full fifty years being severed from human so|ciety. The height of his grief having for some mo|ments stopt the utterance of his words, he sighing laid his head upon my neck, squeezing me close in his arms.

This most tender and moving action moved me to a reciprocal grief: Never did any man reflect with more reluctancy than when I parted with that good old man, who having recovered in some mea|sure his former firmness of mind, his soul being again resigned, we repeated out embraces with a mutual affection. Then I took my leave; but he would not part with me there: he would by all means wait on me to the lake I was to wade over to come at the rock, on the other side of which the boat lay waiting for me: And when I came thither he would also have waded over with me, that be might have the satisfaction of seeing me safe from the dangerous rock;

but I would in no wise permit him. Thus having prevailed upon him to stay behind, I prepared to wade over: so after a few more embraces, I cros|sed the lake, and came to my impatient companions, who received me with-heavy reprimands for trust|ing myself so long alone with that necromancer: For nothing, said Alvarado, shall ever persuade me a man can have all such plenty of dainties with on|ly the help of Nature: No, no, he may talk of Pro|vidence as much as he pleases; he applies to the black art; and those voices he calls echoes are his invisible imps, which (if truth be known) are often employed in raising the wind, and causing storms, which render these seas often so dangerous: And it has been observed, that few or no ships come near these rocks, and escape being staved. For my part, I assure you I do not think myself safe, whilst with|in the reach of his enchantments. With that he takes one of the oars out of young Tim's hand, and falls to rowing. Indeed said Tim, as you say, he looked very much like a conjurer with his long hair and beard; and I believe he is a conjuring now. See here is bad weather coming; let us make haste from these rocks.

Even as he said, in short, so it happened; for in a little time after the wind rose, and the sea began to be a little rough; so that I was forced to take the hitcher, and with it keep the boat from the rocks, whither the waves very often drove us; but, by standing out to sea, the wind grew more calm, and fair for the continent: I took one of the oars, and, by help of our sail, in a short time we got safe to shore, where being arrived very much fatigued, we put up at the first cottage, which was inhabited by an old man and woman, Indians, where we dres|sed our fish, and went to supper; which was scarce

over, but I was hurried on board, the wind being tacked about, and fair for our departure.

We weighed anchor on the 17th day of May, and stood out to sea, and sailed south and by east till we arrived on the 26th at Panama on Terra Firma, af|ter meeting some stormy weather. Here we began to traffic, in our way home, for some corn, necessa|ry for our following voyage; as also cotton, some metals, rosin, gums, and pepper. Our stay was not long here; for we sailed from thence on the 5th of June, the wind then being very favourable: But we had not sailed above twenty leagues, when we met with a violent storm, which lasted some hours, and the wind blowing hard at north north-east; wherein we had the misfortune to lose our surgeon, one John Da|vis, who, being imprudently upon deck, was washed overboard by a prodigious wave coming in at the forecastle: Our ship received no damage in the storm; but our loss of Mr. Davis was very great, and worse than if any other man on board had been missing; for we might also call him our chaplain, as well as surgeon: And by his exemplary, pious life, during the time he belonged to our ship, he might really be called a divine. He was a man, who, as he told me, had been educated at Hart-Hall, Oxon, in his early days, and designed for the sacred robe: But his genius very much inclining to those most pleasant studies, viz. physic and surgery, he after|wards made them his practice; but meeting with some misfortunes, about the 35th year of his life, he 〈◊〉〈◊〉 England, and embarked on board the John and Mary for New England, where he lived a con|siderable time, when our ship arrived at that coun|try, at that time wanting a surgeon; for our own died just at our approach near the continent. Our captain, on inquiry, agreed with him for our voyage

till we returned back thither again. I think it but just to enternize his memory in these memoirs, and give him the character he merited.

He was a pious, good man, sober, just and virtu|ous; ready to serve, but never to offend any man. His morals were instructive to all those who knew him and his constant exhortation (while on board our ship) to frequent daily prayers, was the reason that we esteemed him the doctor of our souls, as well as surgeon to our bodies. Nay, which is still more, while he was with us, though he never enter|ed into sacred orders, yet he told us, he thought it his duty to give us the best instructions he was ca|pable of, for the preservation of our souls and bod|ies, both of which were always in danger: And ac|cordingly after divine service (as I may call it) was performed by him in a very solemn manner, he would frequently discourse on the nature and hein|ousness of the sin of man, which occasioned the suf|ferings of Christ; on the terrors of hell, and the joys of heaven; as also on the glorious creation of the world, setting forth the works of Omnipotence in very lively colours, telling the advantage, pleas|ure, and beauty, that attended a good life, Some|times his discourses would be on natural philosophy, which he delivered extremely well: At other times on some of the sciences, most of which he well un|derstood, and to which we gave very great atten|tion, as being disirous of such useful knowledge; In short his death ••as greatly lamented by the cap|tain as well as myself, and indeed by all the ship's crew; for he was a man of a quick thought, and lively apprehension; had an universal knowledge in things entirely free from reservedness, but of per|fect humility and condescension; most agreeably entertaining in his conversation, and dear to all that over kn••w him.

Thus, having given an imperfect character of that great man, to whose memory I owe so much, I shall proceed to a further description of our voyage. As to the coasts on those seas, I think it needless to make any 〈◊〉〈◊〉 thereof, they having been so well described already by our modern geographers, nor is it any-ways useful to my purpose; so that I shall entirely omit it, and only give an account of the places where we traded or touched at for provision or necessaries, and remark what happened most wor|thy our notice in our voyage home to England.

The weather now proving more favourable, I be|gan to peruse the memorials of my good old her|mit: But oh! with what moving sympathy did I share with him in the multitude of his misfortunes during his minor years! Nor could I less sympa|thize with him in the ecstasies of his hermitical life. I read with pleasure and amazement what he had la|boriously transcribed, being at that time doubtful whether it would ever be perused by any mortal; where he set forth a continued series of misfortunes, as if linked together by Divine Providence (whilst he lived in the wise world, as he called it:) And in this account, during his abode on that desolate island, denotes that the Omnipotent Being had always an immediate direction in every circumstance or point of time. I was more and more astonished and a|mazed by this good man's precepts, who has aban|doned the world, content to live in a desolate and lon••some island, uninhabited by any mortal but himself where he has had the space of fifty years to reflect and contemplate on the follies and misfor|tunes of man; during which time his maxims were always his rules of life in every case. O! may I once more see that dear old man, whose habitation is free from anxious cares, from oppression and usury,

and all the evils that attend this populous world! There would I abide, and never depart from that happy solitude, which he so peacefully enjoys—but whether am I running? These contemplations have made me forget the remarks of my voyage.

We sailed from Panama on the 6th day of June, and had frequent thunder and lightning, attended with some rain; but nothing else extraordinary hap|pened. On the 15th we made Gorgona bay in Pe|ru, where our boat went on shore to a village on the main, with twenty hands well armed resolving to get some fresh provisions at any rate; for we be|gan to be in want, having taken in but very little at Panama. It is a low land, full of mangrove trees, and, within land, pretty high: The village was but poor; however, they brought away fix hogs and four goats: some limes, and plantains. Not far from hence are some gold mines, but of no great note, as we were informed by some Indians. They are a very warlike people who live on that coast, and often engage one another with clubs and darts, made of hard wood. The island is about six leagues in length. There are monkeys, lizards, hares, and Guinea pigs; also several sorts of snakes, some of which are as big as one's leg; so that it is danger|ous to walk in some parts of the island. One of our men happened to be bit by one, and did not live above six hours after; though his death had been prevented, I believe, had we not met with that misfortune of losing Mr. Davis, our surgeon. Here, also, we caught some mullets, and several sorts of fish extremely g••od, though unknown to us as to their names. In this island there is a crea|ture which the Indians call a Mundago, but the Spaniards a Sloth, which I think is its properest name, for it is a creature which seems to sleep as it

walks, by its slow motion: And it is reported, that it eats the leaves of trees, which are its only food but it is so prodigious lazy, that when it has cleared one tree of its leaves, it will be almost starved to death before it attempts to climb another: In short, it is a very ugly creature, and seems to be of the monkey kind by its make; but its hair is thicker and long|er, nor is it so agreeable to look at, and is different in its nature. Here we also got fresh water and wood; for there are very good brooks on that island, and wood enough. While we lay near the island. I went ashore: and in my conversation with a Span|iard, he related to me the following account of one. Thomas Jenkins, a Lancashire man, who was boat|swain on board a merchant's ship, whose name I have since forgot, who was left on that island, and lived alone there two years and there months; but was first seen on that island by some Indians, who came from the main for oysters, and other shell fish, which they frequently gather for the Spaniards. He made his escape from them, and hid himself in the woods; fearing that they would carry him to the Spaniards; and by that means, he might be made a slave; choosing rather solitude, than to enter into bondage for his life. However, an English ship-trad|ing on that coast had notice of it from the Indians; and, imagining that he might be an Englishman cast|away, or set on shore there (as he really was) by some pirates who had been in those seas, they sent their boat with six hands, to the island, in search of him. They took their speaking-trumpet with them, and by that means, after about six hours stay on the island, they found him out. He told them, that, at his being first set on shore upon the island, it seem|ed very melancholy, and frightful; when he began to reflect on the barbarity of the pirates, to leave

him there without provisions, or any manner of ne|cessaries, whereby he might support himself (they leaving him only his wearing clothes, and his pock|et-knife.) If they had left him any fire-arms and am|munition his case would not been near so desparate; because he then might have not only defended him|self against any enemy, but likewise have killed some goats, or fowls, for his subsistence. He also said, that what made him very melancholy, was, to think his habitation, and place of abode, was an island that he, at first, knew not whether there was any thing on it for his subsistence, as never being on that coast before. But the second day of his being there, he took a survey of the island, and found that there were monkeys, goats, &c. and also good fish. He dreaded greatly the snakes, which were larger than he had ever seen before; however, as they endeavoured to get from him, he rested pretty well satisfied; hoping there was no beast of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to hurt him there: for fear of which at first, he climb|ed up into a pimento tree to sleep. He was well pleased to find such good shell-fish, which was the only food he lived on for the first five days; when, by accident, he caught a young kid, which very much rejoiced him: But he was at great loss for fire to dress it; till, having nothing to employ him|self with but thinking, he remembred that he had heard, that the rubbing of two pieces of wood to|gether produced fire; he tried the experiment: And, by rubbing two pieces of pimento wood to|gether, did produce fire (after the manner the In|dians make use of it.) He then made a fire, as hav|ing wood enough, and broiled part of his goat, which was a delicious meal to him. He afterwards began to build himself a hut to dwell in where he lived, and dressed his fish and goat's flesh; but could at

first only broil it, till he had driven two stakes in the ground, where he roasted it, with a wooden spit. As to freshwater, as I observed before, there were very good brooks in the valleys. At length he invented a|way, by thicksets, to ensnare a goat sometimes, which furnished him with flesh: Here were cabbage-trees, which furnished him with sauce to his meat, it being very agreeable, when seasoned with the fruit of the pimento-tree, which is much like Jamaica pepper: but afterwards he could run a goat down. Sometimes he had the good luck to find some eggs; for there were very good fowls: He caught some young 〈◊〉〈◊〉 also; and, by cutting their wings, and keeping them always cut, he preserved them in a brook, just by his hut, which he had enclosed. There they bred and were tame. But being one day gone a pretty distance from his hut, a great number of monkeys finding them out, and that they could not fly away, destroyed them all. His clothes were almost worn ou•• nay, his shoes were quite gone, and had been for some time; but to preserve his feet, he cut the goat skins in the shape of stockings, and sewed them or laced them up with thongs of the same; and also laced the foot-part, making holes with his knife for the thongs, three or four times doubled together, to serve for soles. The Spaniard told me, that he was so well inured to that way of life, when he was tak|en from the island, that if was a considerable time before he could 〈◊〉〈◊〉 either drink, or any kind of victuals, which was 〈◊〉〈◊〉 on board the ship. I gave the Spaniard account of the hermit, to which he gave very great attention.

So, having refreshed ourselves, we sailed from hence, after a stay of three days only in the bay; having got a pretty many goats from the island, and some maize, indian corn. From thence we steer|ed

for the Gallapago islands, but, in our passage; met with several storms and tornadoes attended with great rains. Some of our men began to be very sickly, which we thought proceeded from their eat|ing the livers of some young seals they had caught, they being unhealthy. After about three days sail, we met with frequent calms. During this voyage, one of our negro women, of which we had three on board, being with child, and near her time, was de|livered of a fine boy, which was of the swarthy co|lour. She had been on board us ever since we came from the Brasils, and proved very useful in washing our linens. &c.; but Juno, for that was her name proved with child by one of our men, whose name was Thomas Higgins: I, with the help of the other two negro women which were on board, performed the office of midwife, and delivered her. I had purchased a little wine at Panama, which prov|ed very useful to mull for Juno, to comfort her in that condition: also the other negro women. Tom Higgins and I drank one bottle after her delivery; and we were really merry on that occasion. The captain was somewhat displeased at this accident: but being unwilling (in so long a voyage, attended with so many difficulties as we had met with) to inflict too heavy a punishment on his men, he only oblig|ed Tom to agree that he should allow Juno two pis|toles, when she went ashore at Brasil, to take care of the child. Tom readily agreed thereto, but had some remorse of conscence, and began to reflect, and was really much concerned to think, that the child got by him (though on a negro, yet she was a woman, and the child in likeness of himself, and firmly believ|ing that it was really got by him, and no other per|son) should be bred up in Paganism. Accordingly he grew very dull and melancholy at the thoughts

thereof, which he communicated to me; asking my advice about it. So I Pursuaded him to be merry and not to cast himself down; for that many such accidents had happened in the West-Indies before then, among the Englishmen, who never thought much of it afterwards. However, this had no ef|fect at all on him. He told me, that whatever crimes other people had been guilty of, he could not rec|oncile himself thereunto. Finding him so very unea|sy, I acquainted the captain of it: Ah! says he, if Tom under so great a concern about the child's be|ing not to be educated in the Christain Religion. Yes, Sir, said I; and I am apprehensive that it 〈◊〉〈◊〉 grow upon him very much to his prejudice, he is 〈◊〉〈◊〉 extremely concerned about it: For less things 〈◊〉〈◊〉 that, I have known people, grow melancholy (〈◊〉〈◊〉 he seems to be;) and they have entered into 〈◊〉〈◊〉 state of lunacy, and never could be brought 〈◊〉〈◊〉 their former reason, but have laid violent 〈…〉〈…〉 on themselves. As he is a very honest, good natur|ed fellow (setting aside his slip) said I, I wish some expedient could be found out to make him easy. Well, then, Mr. Dorrington, says the captain, we have the common prayer-book on board; audit 〈◊〉〈◊〉 we have lost poor John Davis, our surgeon and chaplain; he could have christened the child and that would have satisfied Tom. O, Sir, said I, with your leave, as we have no chaplain belonging to the ship, now Mr. Davis is dead; yet as we are tolerated to bury our dead. pray, why may not 〈◊〉〈◊〉 christen the living also? It can be no crime to do a good action. The captain approved of what I said; so I told him, with his leave, I would be chap|lain, in that case, as well as I had been man-mid|wife before: But, Sir, said I, there is an obstacle that will hinder us still. He asked me what it was!

Why, Sir, said I, we have neither godfathers nor godmothers; and you know it is not accounted law|ful to perform that ceremony, which is one of the sa|craments, unless it be done with order and decency, as the church directs. To which the captain repli|ed, Is there not Mr. Clark our lieutenant? I and he will stand godfathers; and he shall, as he is Clark by name, perform the office of clerk in the ceremo|ny. But, Sir, said I, what must we do for a god|mother? You know there ought to be one, and we have no woman on board that is a christian. Well, then, said the captain, the women we have on board, by a little persuasion, may be willing to be christ|ened themselves; and, if they consent, they are of age, and therefore capable of answering for them|selves, by which means they may become godmo|thers, on occasion, to the child. So, accordingly, the captain called for a bottle of wine, and sent for Diana, one of the negro women, aged about twenty|three years. When she came into the cabin, the captain filled a glass of wine, and gave it her: Af|ter she had drank it, the captain said, So, Diana, it is hoped that you will not be troubled with the wan|tons, and play the trick your sister Juno did. Pray, how does the child do? To which she answered, It be ver well; but it cry, cry, ver much, great deal. Well, says the Captain; but, Diana, I sent for you on another occasion: Do you not remember Mr. Davis, our surgeon and chaplain? Yes, says she, me ver well know him; he give me ver gret goot stuff (meaning a dram:) But, says the captain, you know, Diana, he was a good man, and used to tell you your duty, and teach you how to say your prayers. Yes, says she, me ver well remember dat he be ver goot man. Why, then, said the captain, Diana, what do you think of being made a Christian, and

christened as we Christians are? Me mak Chirs|tian, (says she) hou? Why, says the captain, you know Mr. Davis taught you to read, and you learned to say your prayers: They are very good prayers, are they not? to pray to GOD. Yes, says she; they be ver goot prayer; me love dem ver gret mush. Well, then, says the captain, are you willing to be good, and to do as those prayers learn you to do? Yes, said she, me be always ver goot, me be ver glad, me lern me prayer, me lern more, me tank you. So by the captain's advice, I read the pub|lic baptism of those of riper years, and baptised her; she answering the questions by the instruction of the captain; and we christened her by the name of Elizabeth, which was the name of our ship. As soon as the ceremony was over, the captain order|ed Elizabeth to dress the child in as decent a man|ner as she could, and bring it to the cabin: In the mean time we drank the bottle of wine. As soon as the child was dressed, Elizabeth carried it to the captain, who sent for Thomas Higgins, and told him that Diana was christened, and that he himself and lieutenant, were to stand godfathers to his 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and Elizabeth godmother; and that it was to be christened; and desired to know what name should be given to the child: To which he answered, his own viz. Thomas. But I never saw such an alter|ation in any man in my life, as I immediately ob|served in him. So suddenly it appeared, that it sur|prised us all. For he who before was dejected even to the greatest degree imaginable, now ap|peared fully satisfied in his mind; and conscience no longer seemed to fly in his face; but he became full of mirth and jolity. So by the captain's order, I christened the child in a very decent manner: the captain and lieutenant ••••ood godfathers, and Eliz|abeth

stood godmother. When the ceremony was over, the captain said, Tom, as this child was begot and born on board my ship, and I am its godfather; and as it is now a Christian, I think it properly be|longs to me (though I am not the father of it) to see it brought up in a Christian manner, which, if it please GOD to bless me with life, I will see perform|ed; and not only that, but will take care of it, if it lives, during my life; and see it well educated.—So the captain ordered half a goat to be roasted; and he, the lieutenant, and I, with Tom and Eliza|beth whom he permitted on that occasion, supped at his table, and were very merry: Which so rejoic|ed Elizabeth, tha she, immediately after supper, related what had happened to her fellow negro wo|man, who was called Antiope; and they both went to Juno, and told her, that her son was baptised by the name of Thomas.

The weather here was extremely hot in the day|time; but there were cold dews at night, which were very dangerous; for three of our men died in our voyage to the Galliapagoes.

As we sailed, on the 25th at night, the sea very much surprised us, it seeming to be as red as blood; which occasioned Stephen Jones, who was upon the watch, with some others, to call us up; for they had never seen the like before. When we came upon deck, we supposed it to be a great quantity of the spawn of fish swimming on the water; it being very fair. Having passed the line, we made the Gallia|pagoes on the 5th of July, where we anchored about a mil off the shore, in a good smooth, sandy ground. We sent our boat ashore for water, but could find none. Some of our men began to be sick, but none of them died before we arrived at Puna isle, in Pe|ru; from thence we sailed a little way up the river

Guiaquil, where we saw a great many ••lligators, and sold some of our goods: But the Spaniards being jealous that we came as spies, and belonged to some other ships on that coast, which were Buccaniers, we thought it best to leave that place, having taken in some fresh water, and a few provisions, to serve us to the isle of Labos. We stood out to sea, and made the island of St. Clara, where we anchored on the 10th for that night (our ship proving crank, and sailing very heavy;) The next morning, when we were preparing to sail, we found that our ship had sprung a leak; so that we were obliged to have one hand at the pump continually. Before we had sail|ed six leagues, the wind freshened upon us, and the sky looked extraordinary black at north-east, and it moved towards us, which made us take in our top|sails; and afterwards we reefed our mainsail and mizzen, at which time it began to rain, and poured down as if through a sieve. The sea seemed as if it had been all on fire, by the prodigious thunder and lightning. It then being night, the elements over|head looked most dismally black, but all round the horizon was red as blood: The waves which seem|ed to dash against the clouds by the violence of the wind, sparkled like lightning, which, together with the thunder, made a terrible noise; at last breaking in upon our deck, it carried away one of our an|chors; and we 〈◊〉〈◊〉, not bring our ship to the wind for fear of her foundering; it being dangerous in a storm, to turn a ship back ward and forward; so we were 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to lie in the trough of the sea. But the wind and rain abating, we observed to our great joy, a corpus sanct at the top of our spindle: These corpus sancts are good signs when seen aloft; but bad omens, and denote a great storm, when seen on the decks. It is a small glimmering light, like a star,

when seen aloft; but when on the deck, it appears like a glow-worm. It is the opinion of mariners, that it is a sort of jelley, incorporated by the wind, rain, sea vapours, and air: because it is never ob|served unless in stormy weather.

We sailed right before the wind, which was south|west, but were obliged to keep continually pump|ing till the eighteenth day; when we made the isle of Labos, about twelve at noon. That night we got safe into the harbour, and anchored, at twenty fathoms water, in clean ground, between the two islands: Here we resolved to careen our ship. Ac|cordingly, observing the time of high-water, we put her into a cove, in the southermost island, where we hauled her up as far as we could on the land; and our carpenter and all hands set to work the next day. This island is barren and without fresh wa|ter. Here we killed several seals, sea-lions, boobies, and penguins; a sea fowl about as big as a duck, whose flesh is very ordinary food, but the eggs ex|ceeding good: Here, also, we found a small black fowl, which makes holes in the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to roost in at night, whose flesh is very good; 〈…〉〈…〉 at many vultures and crows. We had car••en•••• our ship, and were in readiness to sail on the 〈◊〉〈◊〉, and sail|ed to the island Fernandos, and made the middle bay on the 7th of August, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 being just over there; which continues only 〈…〉〈…〉 ••onths, viz. June and July. We have verbal 〈◊〉〈◊〉 where, of several men who have been left, or 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and have lived some time, and very well, on this island. Here we mended our sails. There is plenty of ve|ry good fish of divers sorts. It is very pleasant on the shore, and very healthy; so that the men who had been ill on our voyage, perfectly recovered their healths; for the green pimento trees diffused a

very agreeable and refreshing, healthy smell all over the island. Here we spent some time in taking wood on board, and likewise in laying water up, which here is very good; we also boiled a consider|able number of sea lions, of which there are plenty here: We had, also, plenty of young seals, which eat very well; only their livers are unwholesome. At the south end of the island we found some goats, of which we killed about thirty, which were excellent good. Here were, also, plenty of turnips and wa|tercresses, which were of great service to us in cur|ing the scurvy; of which we gathered a very large quantity.

So, having refreshed ourselves very well on this island, we resolved to steer for Cape Verde in Chili; on the 〈◊〉〈◊〉, made the island of St. Jago, where we anchored, and sent our boat on shore. Here we bought some hogs and black cattle (for our voy•••• round Cape Horn to the Brasils,) as also some corn and maize. Here the people, from the ill usage they had formerly met with from the French, are extremely sharp, and really dishonest; for if they trade with you, and cannot get the advantage of you which they think you would have of them, they will snatch your goods, and run away with them.

We weighed anchor on the twentieth, and sailed from hence 〈…〉〈…〉 Horn, in 51 degrees 15 minutes lat. 〈…〉〈…〉 informed me, I being on|ly a merc•••••••• on board, and therefore do not in|tend to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 a 〈◊〉〈◊〉 journal, only as I promised to give an account of the most material passages in our voyage 〈◊〉〈◊〉. Round the Cape the weather favoured us extremely, and nothing happen|ed that was material, only that we were chased by a private-〈◊〉〈◊〉 for about twelve hours, on the 29th; but the night coming on, it favoured us so, that we

lost her. On the 4th of September we made Falk|land's islands. Here we saw a great number of porpoises, which often leaped out of the water, of an uncommon sort. On the 5th we had the misfortune to have one of our men fall into the sea as he was throwing the lead, and he was drowned before we could give him any help. We had very brisk gales at south west. We sailed, and made Cape St. Antonio, near the mouth of the river de la Plata, in Paragua, on the 25th, the wind south by west; when we stood out to sea, and made the isle of Grande, on the coast of Brasil, on the 29th. We got a pilot, who conducted us into, the watering cove, at the inner westermost point of the island.—In sounding as we went in, we hardly met in a|ny place, with less than ten fathoms water.—The island is about nine leagues long, high land near the water-side: It abounds with wood, has monkeys and other wild beasts; plenty of good timber, and fresh water, oranges, and lemons. We had pleasant weather, but extremely hot. We here received a letter from our owners, commanding us home, and not to sail for New England, as designed. Here we got beef, mutton, hogs, fowls, sugar, rum, oranges, and lemons (so that now we did not want for good punch.) During our voyage from the Gallipagoes, I applied myself to the perusal of my good old man's memoirs, which I took very great delight in; and finding the whole series of his minor years attended with such a number of unaccounta|ble accidents, hardly to be paralleled, I thought pro|per, as I designed them to be published at my arriv|al in England, to digest them in a more regular man|ner than I found them wrote in his manuscript; but neither added nor diminished; nor did I in the least vary from what he himself had wrote, as to the ac|cidents

of life; only I made some amendments which I thought necessary: For his absence from England so long as fifty years, had occasioned him, in some manner, not to be well acquainted with the language, as it is now spoken, and (by his living without any conversation so long a time) had made him, in some measure, forget his own mother-tongue. Though I really think, taking that into consideration, that his account was very polite, yet, had his life been pub|lished, as in his memoirs, it would have appeared very obselete, and difficult to be read, though ever so entertaining. I accordingly collected all the passages of his first twenty eight years together, and thought proper to make a book, or part by them|selves, that part of his life being different from his hermetical confinement on the island, which at first sight appeared so full of horror, and nothing but a prospect of the most miserable condition that could befal him. He no sooner looked round him, and depending upon Providence, as the supporter of the distressed, but he found almost every thing necessa|ry for human life on that small island; and he, who then thought of nothing but immediately perishing in the most miserable condition, has lived, by the help of Divine Providence, in a safe and plentiful manner; and is now so inured thereunto, that he despises the populous world and its vanities: He also considers its pompous glory to be of no more substance than a shadow; and that there is no felici|ty on earth, unless in solitude.

I likewise methodized his account, during his re|sidence on the island in the former manner; and made another book, or part; which with this account of my finding him on the island, and my conference with him, completes my design: So that it cannot be called an imperfect description, but complete, in three books. And now I return to my voyage.

In our voyage from Juan Fernandes we saw a very large bird, which is called Alcatres: These birds spread their wings from eight to ten feet wide. In the Brasils is a serpent called Liboya, or the Roebuck serpent, the report of which is incredible (in my opinion) but affirmed by some of the Portu|guese, viz. that there are some of them thirty feet long, its body being as big as an hogshead, and de|stroys a Roebuck at one meal. Here we trafficked for several sorts of drugs. We treated the Portu|guese very civilly; who supplied us with all things necessary for our use. During our ••••ay here there arrived a brigantine ••aden with negroes, for the gold mines. Here four of our men died and three ran a|way from us, the last of which we had just occasion to be thankful for, rather than sorry; for Timothy Anchors over-heard them discoursing, that they de|signed to mutiny at our next sailing, but was doubt|ful whether or no they might get enough on their side to overpower the captain and his party; and a|greeing, among themselves, that it was a very diffi|cult matter to become masters of the ship: And, be|sides, considering the hazard they run, in being pun|ished, after such a severe manner as they should be, if found out by any means, before they could accom|plish their design, or if they should sail in their at|tempt; made them rather choose to desert the ship, than continue any longer. Though our captain was an extraordinary good man, yet rogues will be al|ways employing their wicked thoughts; and neither clemency nor good usage can make them perform their duty in their stations.

The 10th of October, after having set Antio••e, one of our Negro women, on shore, who refused to be christened as Diana was, we began to sail, but kept Elizabeth and Juno on board; the captain re|solving

that she should live with him as his servant and by that means would bring up Tom's child:—We did not meet with any thing very remarkable; but after about twenty-four hours easy sail, we passed the tropic, and the next day saw land. We stood from it south south west, and had close cloudy weather all night, with showers of rain. When day broke, we saw Ascension island, at about a league's distance; and about nine o'clock we came to anchor. The sea is here very deep. The next day we weighed anchor, and sailing north north east, till the 17th with a fresh gale at west south-west, we crossed the line. The next day an ugly accident happened; for we brought a young bear from Mexico; and our men being of en used to play with her and teaz•• her, it proved very fatal to one Thad Obrian, an Irish boy, of about sixteen years of age, who had been fretting the creature with a small rope, which he had made a noose to, and slipped her hind leg in|to it, and so worried her. Her blood growing warm, and she being enraged at his hunting her to and fro on the deck, where he happened to slip down; the bear immediately seized poor Thady by the neck, with such violence that, before any body could 〈◊〉〈◊〉 liver him from her paws, the poor boy's throat was tore to pieces: so that he died instantly.

We sailed but very slowly now, meeting with con|tinual calms, and directed our course for Cape Verde islands: but on the 26th we had a heavy tor|nado, attended with lightning, which fell as if the element had been on fire; but it continued only for a short time: Afterwards the weather proved extremely fair, the wind being full south. A sailor going up to furl the main top-gallant on the 3d of November, in the morning saw land and supposed it to be one of the Cape Verde islands, bearing north|east,

distant about seven leagues smooth water, and fresh gales: About four o'clock we bore north north|west and went with an easy sail till day-light, and made the island of St. Vincent; when, about nine o'clock, we anchored in the bay, in about five fa|thoms water, where we 〈◊〉〈◊〉 till the next day; and then we went to St. Nicholas, another, and one of the largest of the Cape Verde islands. These islands are so called from Cape Verde in Africa, and are mostly inhabited by Portuguese. One of them is called Sall: It derives its name from the prodigious quantity of salt which is naturally congealed in salt|ponds. There are some poor goats on this island, and some wild fowls. Here are flaming••es, a large fowl much like an heron, but bigger, and of a red|dish colour: They feed together in muddy ponds, or where there is but little water. They are hard to shoot, being very shy.

In St. Nicholas we traded with some of the Span|iards for ambergris; but they were very fraudulence having counterfeited it much. Here are some 〈◊〉〈◊〉 yards, and plantations, belonging to the Portugue•••• and wine, much like Madeira, of a pale colour 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and thick. The people are swarthy, and the inhab|itants live scattering in valleys.

While we were at this island, we scrubbed our ship's bottom, and dug some wells on the shore, where we got fresh water. Here an unlucky acci|dent had like to have happened; for one of our men, going down to the hold with a candle, set fire to a bale of cotton, which by his carelessness, had like to have been the loss of our ship: But, (thanks to God) it was discovered, by its smother, just before 〈◊〉〈◊〉 began to blaze out; so that by immediate help, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 got it extinguished. Very soon after we hoisted 〈◊〉〈◊〉 upon deck for fear any of the fire should remain,

and revive again; and because we would have it in mind for our safety.

On the 8th we went to the isle of Mayo, another of the Cape Verde islands, but made no stay. We saw at south west, the island del Fago, which is re|markable for being a volcano, or burning moun|tain, out of which issue flames of fire; but they are only discerned in the night and then are seen a great way at sea: Yet there are inhabitants on this island (as I have been informed by the Portuguese of the island of St. Nicholas) who lived at the foot of the mountain near the sea. There are also cocoa|nuts, plantains, goats, and fowls.

In the island of St. Aritanio another of the Cape Verde islands, there is a very large spider (as I was informed by the same Portuguese) which weaves its web between the trees; and it is so strong that it is difficult for a man to get through. Here are also wild asses; likewise, salt pits, where great ••••••antities of salt are naturally made by the sun's 〈◊〉〈◊〉; with which they load yearly several ships, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 are able to sell much greater quantities than 〈◊〉〈◊〉 do, if they had but vent for it.

〈◊〉〈◊〉 having despached our affairs at the Cape Verde 〈◊〉〈◊〉 we weighed with the flood, having a small 〈◊〉〈◊〉 at south south west: on the 17th it began to 〈◊〉〈◊〉, and veered to the south-west by south. That evening we saw three sail of ship at west north-west, bearing as we supposed, for the Canary islands, as well as ourselves. The night coming on, which was extremely clear and fine, we passed the tropic about break of day; soon after which we observed a north-bank lying in the horizon. We then provid|ed for a storm, which those clouds denote. The wind was at north-west. We brought the ship un|der our main sail and mizzen only, and ballasted

our mizzen; but yet the wind and seas were too high for us, and every wave seemingly threatened to o|verwhelm us; so that we beat up and down with on|ly our bare poles which we feared would break in upon our deck, which must have foundered us, in case it had so happened: We also lowered our main-yard, and fore-yard down to a port-last, as I observed the sailors called it, that is pretty near the deck; and the wind blew so extremely fierce, that we did not dare to loose any head sail at all: For, if we had they certainly would have been blown a|way. During the storm, it rained exceeding fast, which continued for about four hours, when it chang|ed, and was pretty calm; and we began to get eve|ry thing in good order. The wind that evening, changing to south-west, about six the next evening, we saw the peak of Teneri••f, at about nine leagues distance. We saw some flying fish and a great deal of sea-thistle swimming. We sailed all night with a small easy gale, and at break of day made the Ca|naries; bearing at north west by west, about three leagues. We crowded all our sail, and came to an anchor, in the harbour of Sancta Cruz, in the island of Teneriff, on the 21st, in about thirty fathoms water, black slimy ground, about half a mile from the shore. The land being for the most part pretty high, it is very bad going ashore here in boats; and ships riding here are often forced to put to sea, or slip their anchors, by reason the road lies so open to the east. Ships are here supplied with good water be|tween the coves, where they generally water.

Sancta Cruz, a small town fronting the sea, has two sorts to secure the road: Here some English merchants reside. Their houses are low and uniform, covered with pan tiles. Here are oranges, lemons, and other fruits, also, flowers, and salading; and a

great number of pleasant gardens: At Oratavia the country is full of risings and fallings, that it is trou|blesome to walk up and down in it: Mules and ass|es are most used by them. Here grows the right and true Malmsey wine; here also Canary and Ver|dona, or green wine: Likewise, a great many con|vents. Ships are forced to slip their cables perhaps three or four times, by reason of the winds, and put to sea before they can take in all their lading. Here are wheat, barley, maize, beans, pease, apples, pears, plumbs, cherries, pomgranates, citrons, oranges, lemons, and several other fruits, excellently good; also, horses, asses, mules, cows, goats, hogs, deer, and fowl, both same and wild in great plenty. Pro|visions are dear on the trading islands, but cheap on the others.

Fero isle is very remarkable: It hath no fresh water, only in the middle of the island, where there grows a tree; which being continually covered with clouds, from its leaves always drop great quantities of excellent water. These Canar•• islands are com|monly the rendezvous of the Spanish West-India fleet, where they generally receive orders for un|lading their wealth.

From the harbour of Sancta Cruz we sailed, on one 25th of November, to the Canary islands: Here the soil is so fertile, that they have two harvests in a year. Its commodities are, honey, wax, sugar, and the best of wines; of which we took a sufficient quantity of each: Here are also dragon's tree, which produces a red liquor called dragon's-blood. These islands are exceeding wholesome, though they are inclinable to beat.

Having taken in the cargo which we designed from these islands, we sailed from thence on the 3d of December for the Madeira island, with a fair wind

at south south-west, and saw several ships sailing to|wards, the Lizard: The next day at eight in the morning, we made land, which was the Madeira, at about four leagues distance, and came to an an|chor: Here are many fountains and rivers, which refresh the country. It is a very beautiful island, exceeding fertile, and produces excellent wine, which is very stronst. We anchored in the port, which resembles an halfmoon, not far from the town. Near this island is another, not so large as this (which is about sixty leagues in compass) called Porto Sancto, which affords much the same com|modities as Madeira: Here we took in about thirty pipes of Madeira wine; and having accomplished our business, we left that island on the 10th, and sailed for the Lizard with a westerly wind. We had not sailed above six leagues, but it changed to north-east, and the sky begun to be covered with small hard clouds, very thick one by another, which we imagined an approaching storm: Accordingly, we provided for it, by reefing our top-sails, and took in our sails as fast as possible. The wind be|gan to blow a very brisk gale, and soon after the storm began; the wind still increased by squalls of rain and hail, which came very thick and fast, and the sea run very high: so that we were obliged to run before the wind. We shipped little or no wat|er, tho' some washed into our upper-deck; and with some of the waves a dolphin was cast thereon. The wind blew very hard, but about eight hours af|ter, it abated its fierceness, and then the wind veer|ed to the west, and the foul weather broke up, and we had smaller gales, with some calms, and fair weather.

On the 18th the wind veered to the south south|east, which continued a brisk gale till the 29th, and

we kept right before wind and sea, the wind still in|creasing; and we made the Lizard on the 27th, at about three leagues, and stood in for the land, and came to an anchor in King's Road.

Thus I have given an account of our voyage from Mexico, as I promised, which I hope may not, be offensive to any body; it being my intention to divert the readers, rather than displease them.

N. B. The ship belonged to B••istol; I communicated the following memoirs to a friend in London, in or|der to be published; which if approved of by the public, I shall, at my return, be very well satisfied. In the mean time, I have business calls me to Pe•••• and Mexico again; in which voyage I hope to see poor Phil my good old Hermit. And so I take my leave, and end the first part.

EDWARD DORRINGTON.

BOOK II.

Account of the birth and education of Philip Quarll; as also, the most surprising transactions of his life, from his infancy to his being cast away.

Taken from the memoirs he gave to Mr. Edward Dor|rington, the person who found him on the island.

PHILIP QUARLL was born in the parish of St. Giles in the Fields. His father Thomas Quarll, formerly a master builder, having unfortun|ately ruined himself in building, was at last reduced to work at the laborious and mean business of brick|making: His poor wife, also, was obliged to lay her hands to the labouring oar; so went a chairing: which slavish and confining occupation robbed her of the necessary time to attend the fruit of her con|jugal affection, her beloved Phil. so that she was obliged (whilst she and her poor yoke-fellow were drudging to get him bread) to commit him to the care of one kind neighbour or another, for a small consideration, till he could prattle and go alone: at which time she put him to school to a good old a••ms woman, where he continued till he was six years old.

One day a neighbour, who formerly had the care of the child in his mother's absence, having con|tracted a particular love for him, being a very pret|ty child; finding him, after, school-time, sitting at his father's door, takes him by the hand, and leads him to his mother, then at work at an old lady's house in Great Russel-street.

The house-keeper, who was naturally fond of children, seeing this pretty child, takes him up in her arms, and runs to her good old lady, who had just ended her customary private devotion.

The child, whom the poor woman kept very neat and clean, beyond what could be expected out of her small gettings, was naturally very handsome; being tall for his age, and well shaped; his features regular, and well proportioned; his complexion fair; his hair long and curling; his countenance mild and sprightly; his behaviour gentle and easy: All which qualifications rendered him completely amiable, and made the old lady conceive an incli|nation for him, uncommon for a stranger's child, especially of so mean a birth.

Thus, having often kissed him, she wished he had been her own. But why, said she, cannot I do for this lovely creature, though no kin to me by birth? nature, who has endued him with qualifica|tions so proximal and suitable to my inclination, has, by sympathy, made him related to me. His mother gave him birth, which, without prejudice to his own life, she could not refuse; now I will give him education, the principal and most necessary care by which real love can be expressed to a child.

So, having given orders, that a good school might be inquired after, she put him to board to a master whose most commendable character of instructing his scholars in their duty to God and man, as

well as in literature, had procured him a consid|erable number of children of the best families. There she intended to have kept him till he was by years and learning, qualified for some genteel trade; intending to leave him in her will, forty pounds to set him up, when out of his time.

But now 〈◊〉〈◊〉 fate begins to shew its averseness to poor Phil's happiness: The worthy lady died sud|denly, and was intered a few days after, to his un|speakable prejudice, and threatning ruin. But watchful Providence, who had decreed him good, averted the apparent evil, and only permitted some interception to her purposes, the better to raise his esteem of her succeeding favours, when sensible of them.

The master having conceived a particular love for the boy (whose uncommon docility, and extra|ordinary aptness in learning, had overtaken the rest of his school fellows, though of much longer standing) was very much vexed at the thoughts of his going away to his parents, they being no longer able to continue his schooling: He was unwilling to part with the boy, and much disturbed to lose twelve pounds a-year for a boarder. His love for the child, whom he had in a manner, adopted for his own, would now and then rouse slumbering charity, whom self interest too often ••asts asleep: Pity, said he, such blooming wisdom and forward learning should wither away for want of cultivation. Thus having pondered a while, love and charity, after a long struggle with interest, gained the victo|ry: The old man concludes to give him his learn|ing, if his relations would only find him in board and ••••her necessaries.

This being concluded upon by both parties, Phil, continued going to school for the space of four

years longer; during which time, he made himself a complete master of the grammar, writing, and arithmetic; he also made a vast improvement in singing, having all that time been taught by a master, who attended some boarders three times a-week; who, finding an extraordinary voice, and natural disposition, in the boy, took a fancy to teach him: So that Phil. was in some respects, qualified to at|tend the school, in the nature of usher, had his age permitted it. But as he was yet too young to keep the scholars in that awe which is necessary in a school, the master only gave him his board, till the elder scholars left off, and he was grown bigger; intending then to allow him sufficiently to maintain himself, as others in that station: But ill fate still attends the poor boy: The good old man died in less than a twelvemonth, and was succeeded by a superanuated nonconformist minister; who, having not so prosperous a school as his predecessor, had no business for an assistant: so Phil. was second time obliged to return to his poor mother (his father be|ing dead;) who, not being in a capacity to do for him, as his education and natural parts really de|served, proposed to him to learn some trade, in or|der to gethis bread honestly and creditably, when she should be no more able to help him; having, by her hard working, and frugal living, made shift to lay up five pounds, which she dedicated to that purpose.

Poor Phil. who had conceived a notion that there is a servitude and hardship entailed upon that station, was very loth to resolve upon entering into it; but as he was a very discreet boy, not inclined to play, as children commonly are, and see|ing that there was a necessity for him to resolve up|on something; to make his choice the more easy, he consults his master's nature and temper, rather

than the goodness and profitableness of the trade: And as there-lived in the neighbourhood a lock|smith, ever since he was born, who, being great with the father, would often play with him, when a child, and now and then give him farthings to buy fruit; he chose to be bound to him; which was done in about a month's time.

They both agreed wonderfully well, the master being very kind and good natured, and the man as diligent and careful; so that those fears of meeting with hardship being dispersed, he cheerfully work|ed on, without thinking the time tedious. But this happiness, though slight, is but of a short lasting; for the poor man, having been bound for a relation, who failed, had all his effects seized upon, and him|self thrown into goal; and poor Phil. in a year's time, was obliged to come to his mother again.

This accident was a vast disappointment to the boy's learning his trade, he being obliged to be i|dle, his unfortunate master begging that he would seek after no other; hoping every day to make up, his affairs, and carry on business again: So that the lad, for want of employment, would play about the streets with neighbour's children.

One day, as he was playing at leap-frog with other boys, there happened to go by one James Turner, an house breaker, who taking notice of his activity, which much exceeded the rest, judged he might be of great use to him in the practice of his art. The meanness of his dress, which spoke him of no con|siderable family, gave him room to hope that he might easily get him: So having stopt a while, he took the opportunity, that the boy, being hot with running, and jumping, went to drink at a pump hard by. He takes him by the arm, saying, do you mean to kill yourself, child, to go and drink cold water

now, when you are hot? Come along with me, and I will give thee a draught of good ale: You shall only go a short errand for me. Will you ••aster? the innocent boy answered, I'll go your errand, if it is not too far: so followed him to an alehouse, in a blind alley, not far from thence, which ••he com|monly used.

Being come, he calls for a quart, and bids the boy take a hearty pull; which he did being very dry, and the liquor as pleasant: This being-done a se|cond time, it began to creep into his head, not be|ing used to strong drink; and in a little time he fell asleep on the bench on which he sat.

The seducer, thinking himself secure of him, leaves him to take his nap, shutting the door upon him, and charging the people of the house not to awake him, nor let him go away, when awake, till he returned; so went to get ready the implements necessary to set his evil project in execution; having determin|ed to rob a rich merchant that night, in which wick|ed action be intended to make the harmless boy his chief instrument, by putting him in at a hole he was to break, and then to open the door for him, under the pretence that it was his uncle, who was so illnatured as to lock him out, if not at home at the shop shutting up.

Having got the ••o••ls, he returned to the boy, whom be found just awake, and very uneasy to go home, having slept till it was dark, being afraid to anger his relations by staying out late, contrary to his custom, being used to orderly hours, and would have gone away, had not Turner, whose projects would have been quite unhinged, used all the devi|ces he was 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of to persuade him. First he be••••eaks a supper of that which the boy liked best, who since his being come from the boarding school,

had been used to none but coarse meat, his poor parent's ability affording no better: Then, to divert away the time he intended to prolong till his oppor|tunity suited, he told him several stories, and, most particularly, that of his pretended uncle's unkind|ness to lock him out of doors, and of his cunning invention to get in at his own time, and unknown to him; but that he was afraid he must be forced to lie out that night, which would be his death, be|ing not used to such a hardship. The poor tender|hearted boy, who could scarce forbear crying, whilst he related this dismal story of his uncle's un|kind usage, asked him what was the matter he could not get in that night as well as at other times? Be|cause, replied the sly knave, the poor boy that used to let me in is sick of the small-pox, as I have heard since you fell asleep. What! can't you get some|body else? said simple Phil. I would do that for you, if I could tell how to get in at my own home; for my mother goes to bed betimes, being obliged to get up early. As for that matter, answered the subtile serpent, do not trouble yourself, I'll provide a bed for you. Thus having removed both that, and all other obstacles the boy raised, he persuades him to stay.

But ever watchful Providence rescues his insnar|ed innocence. Some hours before he was to go a|bout the execution of that evil project, Turner was apprehended for a great robbery he committed the night before in Lime-street; and the boy, being in his company, was also carried before a magistrate. But the justice understanding, by the innocent boy's defence, he hardly was yet guilty of any robbery, having regard to his youth and modest countenance, reprimanded him for his easiness of being drawn into bad company, and warned him to be more cau|tious

for the future: So dischared him, and com|mitted Turner; who was hanged.

That accident, though very lucky, by preserv|ing innocent Phil. from being made accessary to a robbery, which would have put his life in jeopar|dy, at the end proved fatal, he having thereby gain|ed the character of belonging to some ill gang: For which reason nobody cared to be concerned with him, which grieved his poor mother.

The poor widow (being left with her unfortun|ate son who she feared would take to some evil way for want, which often tempts the most innocent inclined) not being able, out of her small get|tings, to maintain him, as when assisted by her late husband; and seeing no prospect of his master's coming out of prison, and being set up again, endea|voured to get him into some place to wait upon some of her mistresses: But the unluckly accident of being had beforee a justice of the peace, with a notorious house-breaker, frustrated her endeav|ours; so that poor Phil. was obliged to continue with his mother in a very mean condition, which his honest mother very much feared would induce him to evil company, of which the parish, she lived in swarmed: But the good instructions which were given him in his infancy, before bad examples could have made any impression on his mind, kept out of his thoughts all wicked devices. Thus seeing no probability of amendment in the station he was in, he resolved upon going to sea, wanting or that em|ployment neither character nor recommendation, which he was sensible would be a hard matter to get, by reason of this most fatal accident.

Thus, having imparted his design to his loving mother, who, with much reluctance, acquiesced in his going from her, and leaving his native country,

where she once had hopes to see him well settled; she, with weeping eyes, implores the Almighty to direct and receive him into his protection: And as she was acquainted with no one that could direct and advise him in that matter, she bid him go to St. Catharine's; there, said she, you may chance to hear of some captain or master of a ship, bound for some short voyage, who perhaps may want a cabin|boy; which is, my dear child, all that your age and strength qualifies you for: In a few years, with the help of God, you may find some advantageous op|portunity to advance yourself by your learning. So, having given him sixpence to bear his charges, with a tender kiss, she goes to her wonted occupa|tion, and he straight to St. Catharine's, where Pro|vidence had prepared a master for him; he being no sooner come thither, than a captain of a ship, bound for the East-Indies, taking a particular fancy to him, asked him whether he would go to sea; and that, if he was so disposed, he would take him to look after his cabin, and provide very well for him.

The gentle manner in which he spoke to the boy, and his mild countenance, made a vast progress in his affection: So, having joyfully accepted his offer, he desires he may run home, and acquaint his mo|ther of it. The captain having taken his name, and place of abode, gave him half a crown to spend with his mother, and then to come to him, at the sign of the Black-Boy, near the Iron-Gate; that he need bring no clothes with him; for he would pro|vide every thing necessary for the voyage.

The overjoyed boy, having told his mother of his extraordinary success, gave her the money, being in great haste to return to his new master: So, having embraced his tender mother, and she her dear son,

weeping over one another for some time, he leaves her at her work.

The good woman, though she had all the reason in the world to be easy in her mind, that the boy was out of those temptations which great want, and bad company, might lead him into, could not be reconciled at his going from her: But, seeing no remedy, she sends crowds of prayers after him, ac|companied with showers of tears, recommending him to the care of Heaven, to whom she daily made addresses for his prosperity.

Phil. who from his infancy had been used to be from his mother, was less disturbed at his leaving her; nothing but his new intended voyage running in his mind; so hastened to the rendezvous his new master had appointed him; who, not expecting that he would return, was so glad to see him, that he went that moment and brought him both clothes and linen fit for the sea; so equipped him a new cap a pee; then took him home, and in a few days after set sail for a three years voyage.

During their sailing, Phil. whose agreeable aspect and temper had gained him the love of all the ship's crew, being often with the man at the helm, soon learned the compass; and by the instructions every body on board strove to give him, in a little time he was qualified for a sailor; which his master hearing of, whom he had often diverted with his singing during that voyage, allowed him sailor's pay the fol|lowing voyage, which was soon after; for in less than three weeks time the ship was new laden, and set out again for the same place, and was gone as long as before; at the end whereof it returned home richly laden, in shorter than was common: Which being put in the news, as usual, prompted a certain number of Drury Lane nymphs to go down to the

place where they heard the ship was arrived; sup|posing that the lusty sailors, having a long time been confined to salt meat, would at their arrival, being flush of money, purchase a bit of fresh at any rate.

Being come to Gravesend, where the ship lay, they found, according to custom, the jolly crew in an ale|house, spending, like asses, what they had earned like horses, even before they had received it.

At the ladies coming, the elevated sailors, who had been sailing on salt water for the space of three years, and since set their brains floating in strong drink, for six hours, having lost the rudder of their reason, ran headlong upon those quicksands, where most of them lost all they had, before they could get off.

The ingenious ladies, who had more wit than honesty, improved the absence of their understand|ing; and, being very expert in the art of fathoming they fell to examining the depth of those shallow|brained fellows' pockets; which finding very low, they were much disheartened from going on, for fear of running a-ground: But, understanding that their ship had not yet been cleared, they cast their anchor there, waiting for a fresh gale.

Mean time the merry sailors, fearing no storm, gave themselves up to sport; and, for better diver|sion, every man takes a play fellow and goes aside, leaving bashful Phil. behind; who being a stranger to the game they were going to play at did not dare to put in for a partner: But cross fate still attending him, a snare is laid in which he must fall. Every man, but modest Quarll, being gone away with a wench; one, being a supernumerary, stayed behind. The crafty creature, who, from her first coming in, had fixed on the innocent young man for her quar|ry, kept at some distance from her comrades; wait|ing their absence; to work her design.

Unthinking Phil. having no suspicion of her cun|ning devices, lying intirely unguarded against her sly attacks, stood no long siege, but capitulated at the first summons. It is true, she was provided with such artillery as no fortifications against love could withstand; but would force the most stubborn to surrender, or at least parley, which is a fore-runner thereof.

Thus, having fixed her bassilisk's eyes upon him, as being the first battering-piece the sex plants, when they purpose a breach in a man's heart; she charg|es him with a volley of engaging words, whilst her looks and carriage offer him such prevailing terms, as no man of any feeling can refuse; therefore, be|ing an exquisite mistress of her art, she soon obtains her ends.

Poor Quarll, whose heart till then, had never been besieged, finding the invader more tempting than dreadful, she having a very agreeable shape, charm|ing complexion, and most engaging features, sur|renders up at discretion, and submits even to bear the yoke of matrimony; which, in less than an hour, is laid upon him; the chaplain of a man of war, who lodged in the house, happening to come in at that critical minute.

By that time, the absent revelling crew were cloy|ed with their mistresses, and had dismissed them with rough usage, and ill language, of which they gene|rally are flush, when money is scant.

The disappointed wretches, seeing no redress for their treatment lately received, which they well knew proceeded from want of money, concluded upon staying in that place till their ship was cleared; by which time their appetite being sharpened again, and they flush of money, and hoping they would also be better chaps; they took a garret in a little

strong-water stop, where they made shift to kennel together, and live upon short commons.

Our new-married couple, whose money was but scan|ty, were also obliged to put up with indifferent quar|ters; but the hopes of receiving the poor husband's ray soon, and withal, the thoughts of being pro|tected from a goal, which she was in danger of, be|fore married, being the principal advantage she pro|posed to herself by having a husband, it made her now easy. But she and all the rest of her compan|ions, were disappointed. The ship being unladen, the cargo proved damaged, by the leaking of the vessel, which is commonly made good by the sailors: So that instead of three years wages being due, the poor men stood indebted to the merchants.

That disappointment put the unfortunate sea|men, and especially the ladies, into a sad conster|nation; the former being obliged to go another voyage with empty pockets, and the latter to seek for cullies to support their extravagance, and to pay for n••w lodgings.

Phil. who, during the voyage, had saved a little money, which his master gave him at sundry times, being disgusted at the sea, by the late accident, re|solves to seek his better fortune in another manner.

His crafty wie, who was, by her marriage, screen|ed from her creditors, depending upon her former occupation, indulged him in that resolution; so they set out w••••h that little they had, and arrived pretty bare. Finding no friends in London, his master being dead while he was at sea, he resolves to list in the foot guards for bread, having no other de|pendence; so consults with his spouse about a lodg|ing, till he had quarters appointed for him. She, in|deed, was best acquainted with the town, and knew of several that would suit both their stock and sta|tion,

but durst go to none, having bilked most of them, and left a score with the rest. But lodging must be had before night; and the day was far spent: which set her a thinking, necessity being the mother of invention: And she, as is peculiar to wo|men of her employment, being well acquainted with it, was no stranger to shifts; and presently finds one. Having pondered for a short time, she concludes upon going to her last lodgings: where, tho' she was considerably in debt, she questio ned not but she should still find a kind reception, and that her land-lady, where she had been about a fortnight, having given over her debt, would at her coming slacken the ill opinion she had conceived of her, and afford her kind usage: So, having fixed a rendezvous for her husband; she hastens there, where she found, as was expected, the old woman was as over-joyed as surprized to see her; and much more, when she understood she was married to a sailor, lately arrived from a three years voyage; who in a short time, would be cleared, and that then she would rub off her score. The old woman thinking herself secure of her debt, and sure of a good customer, bids her kindly welcome; and that she hoped she would take no other lodging but in her house; that she would make every thing as easy and convenient as she should desire; being as welcome to score, as with ready money.

The subtile woman having gained her ends, goes and fetches her husband, whom the over-reached old woman receives most kindly: expressing her love by a quartern of all-fours, the chief commodity of her house: That being drank, was succeeded by a second, at the new tenant••s cost; which, being bro't with a cheerful welcome to as many as they pleas|ed, encouraged the coming-in of half a dozen more:

These warmed the company, and particularly the landlady; who having greeted Quarll for his most happy marriage over and over, fell upon praising his wife, whom she had known for a long time; giving her all the encomiums that virtue itself could deserve.

In this manner they lived about a fortnight, still upon score; which increasing very fast, and no pros|pect of money, it obliged the landlady to put them in mind; often asking when they expected the ship to be cleared. Quarll, who discerned, by the cloud which appeared over her brow, a threat|ening storm, begins to think of an harbour, and forthwith goes and lists himself in the foot-guards.

In that mean station, which often is the last spite of a surly fate, a continuation of misfortunes attends him: The company where he listed in, was full of mercers and shopkeepers, who for a protection took on in the service, and quitted their pay to the covetous colonel, to be exempted from duty, which made it fall heavy on the effective men: But kind Providence, who ever limited the evil that attended him by fortune, ordered this its vexatious influence to turn to his advantage.

One day that he mounted guard out of his turn, being upon duty at the park-gate next to Chelsea, about ten at night, the place being clear of people, he fell a singing to divert melancholy thought, which solitude is apt to indulge: At that time hap|pened to come by a colonel of the same regiment who being merrily disposed, stopped for several mi|nutes to hear him sing: Quarll having made an end of his song, fell a whistling the tune; at which the colonel came to him saying, how can you profane, such a fine tune with whistling, when you can sing it so well? pray let me hear you do it once

more; and grace it with that good voice nature has given you. Quarll, having made some few modest excuses, yields to his pressing solicitations, and sings the same song over again, and with more care than before; which so pleased the gentleman, that he stood half an hour with him, asking him questions; And being by him informed whose company he be|longed to, having his consent to be exchanged, he gives him five shillings to drink his health; and charg|es him to come to him at the Mitre tavern at Char|ing Cross, the next day at eight o'clock in the even|ing, and ask for colonel Bonguard: So went away.

Quarll, being off duty, the next day went to the place, at the time appointed; where he finds the colonel, in company with half a score more gen|tlemen, who received him with more civility and complaisance than is commonly paid to men of his coat: So, having desired him to sit down amongst them, and the glass gone round once or twice, the colonel having praised his singing to the company, he was desired to complement them with a song; if he pleased, with that he sung to the colonel the night before. Quarll, having modestly told the gentlemen, he wished that his skill and voice deserv|ed the honour of their hearing, and that he would do the best he could, having, at their request, drank another glass, he sung the song they desired, to their great satisfaction and applause.

After a short space of time was spent in the praise of singing, and a talk of what an engaging accom|plishment it is, either in man or woman; some of the company, holding that the charms of music are no-wise inferior to the power of love, it occasioned a very agreeable debate; there being in the com|pany a gentleman unfortunately under the circum|stance, who would give love the surpremacy over all

that can effect our minds; seeing it strips a man of the benefit of his own senses, of the strength of his reason, and soundness of judgment. No object is fair, but that whose idea hath impressed the mind; no harmony heard but in the beloved voice, or that which sounds its praise; dainties have no favour in the absence of that which every thing relishes; the fairest days are dull, if not enlivened by the light of the charmer's presence.

Thus he ran on, till the company, perceiving he was beginning to be uneasy, desired Quarll to sing the gentleman a love song, who spoke so much in its praise; which he did, and pleased the lover so ex|ceedingly, that he made him a present of half a guinea. The gentleman, who was altogether for music, having asked Quarll whether he had any thing in the praise of it, having also his request an|swered, made the rest of the company crave a song in the commendation of what suited their inclina|tions: some being for a bottle, others for roving, and others for a country life.

Quarll being provided with such songs, entertain|ed them to their desires till supper was brought up; which being over, the company who had been so well diverted with Quarll's singing, consulted togeth|er to do him service: and, as he was well qualified to teach, they proposed to recommend him scho|lars. A gentleman in company, having a sister, who intended to learn, he writes a letter to her, de|siring she would make use of no other master; which letter he was to carry the next morning:—And as his regimental clothes might lessen her o|pinion of his merit, he bids him, before he goes to call at his lodging, and he would present him with a suit of clothes, which he wore but part of last summer, and therefore little the worse for wearing.

And, as he wanted but a hat to be completely dress|ed (having an extraordinary good head of hair) an|other gentleman bids him call on him for one; so that he had all he wanted to set him out.

The gentlemen having given him directions where to go for the things, and the colonel his pro|mise to get him discharged out of the company he did belong to; at least to have him exchanged in to his own; they every one gave him a crown a|piece: So they departed, bidding him not fail com|ing thither again that day seven-night.

This unexpected but lucky adventure, like a sud|den surprise, unframed his reason, and makes poor Quarll overlook the only obstacle that could ob|struct his blooming happiness. Thus transported with seeing himself master of more money than ev|er he was worth before, and in a fair prospect of ad|vancing himself; he hastens home, and in his guard clothes, in which he ought not to be seen there; be|ing a dress obnoxious to most, and more especially to creditors.

His landlady, who, till then had been made to expect her money, thinking he only waited the ship's being discharged to go another voyage; seeing him in that hope killing dress, gave a shriek, as if she had seen the devil: Slanders and abuses striving for utterance, crowd in her foaming mouth; and like a rapid torrent, which running from a large extent in|to a narrow channel, swells, and overflows its banks; so her passion, finding her mouth too small a passage breaks out through her eyes: Thus, having shrieked and roared a while, which occasioned all her lodgers to come down, she charges poor aston|ished Quarll with shoals of abuses, in the vilest and most insulting terms, the most inveterate malice can express.

Thus having exhausted her stock of slanders, her tongue having uttered all the evil she could, she set her mischievous hands to work upon his wife; who being come to see the occasion of her shrieking, stood like one bereft of her senses: So, having torn her head clothes off her head, with words suitable to the barbarous deeds, she thrusts them both out of doors; which though the rudest action that could denote the unmercifulness of her intended revenge, was to them at that time the kindest act she could perform.

That unexpected treatment was no small check to Quarll's cheerful disposition, but having considered that one time or other he must have stood the shock he rejoices that it is over; and being free from the care of getting her paid, he has at that time nothing to think of but of find another lodging; which being then too late to go about, he concludes to wait for morning at a certain cellar at Charing Cross, which is open all night. Going along, she mildly blamed him for his unadvised coming in that dress, which he might imagine, could produce no better effect. To which he answered, he never could have wished for bet|ter: For, by her turning him out of doors, she had paid herself; which he would have done, had he staid: But now he was come away, being better provided, and in a better way, he would have bet|ter lodgings; so told her of the adventure which much rejoiced her; and from that time made her resolve to forsake her former way of living, which misfortunes only drove her to, being not led by evil inclination, as many are. The morning being come, whilst she went to seek for lodging, he went for the clothes he was promised the evening before, which fitted him as if made on purpose, and made him rec|ommended

for. Being now shaved and powdered, he went with the letter, according to orders and was received suitably to the recommendation given him. The lady, being just up, made him drink chocolate with her; then having required a song, she agrees with him for a guinea a month, the usual rate, and gives him a guinea at entrance, as it is common; so began that very morning, promising to recommend him to a lady, who had two daughters; which she accordingly did, and sent him the next time be|came.

This fair prospect of an handsome and genteel living, which he always was desirous of, made him forget his past misfortunes. Thus joyfully he re|turns to the cellar, where he had spent the night be|fore, and where he had appointed to meet his wife, af|ter she had fixed upon a lodging; who accordingly came in less than a quarter of an hour, hoping she had pleased her husband, which she resolved for the future to endeavour. She sat down, expecting his coming, not knowing he had already waited 〈◊〉〈◊〉 his change of dress concealing him from her not ex|pecting to see him in so different a garb from that which she left him in: Which he perceiving, comes up to her, and takes her by the hand, going to ask her the success of her walk: but she putting it out of his power, in angry manner bidding him go about his business, having none with her, prevented his speaking. His silence, which she took to proceed from bashfulness, occasioned her looking him in the face; in which discovering her dear husband's fea|turers, to whose natural handsomeness his genteel clothes were no small addition, she was seized with such surprise, that struck her speechless for some minutes.

Quarll, discerning her disorder by the fading of her fresh complexion, was as much surpised as she. Thus trembling, he takes her in his arms: My dear, said he, what is the matter? Are you not well? Hav|ing recovered her speech, she embraced him, say|ing, how can I be ill, when my dear heart and soul appears so well?

These kind words, and the return of that flush which first kindled love's fire in their heart, in|flames it afresh; hardly can he govern his new rais|ed passion: Thus, giving her a kiss, My love, says he have you got a lodging? Yes, my dear, replies me loving wife; you shall ever dwell in my heart. But I want to lie in your arms, answers he; that can|not be done here. Well, then, said she, I have provided a fit place. So, having each of them tak|en a dram, they went away.

Sally, who till then was a stranger to real love, now feels its true smart; and though she has for some time enjoyed the fruition, the only bliss pains|taking lovers aspire at for the reward of all their toils and labours, and the happy shore love's com|pass points at; yet she seems uneasy, as expecting something more: She cavils with time for flying too fast. Whole days and nights are too short for her to behold her dear. She continually bears his image in her heart, and wishes she could forever have him in her arms; which from that time she con|••ecrates to chaste embraces, devoting herself wholly to the diligent and assiduous practice of the neces|sary qualifications in a wife, to render an husband truly happy: The execution of which wife and vir|tuous resolutions gained her the tenderest and most sincere love and affection a real fond husband can shew of express to a darling wife.

They lived in that truly happy state about half a year; at the end of which, cruel fate, envious of his uncommon happiness, most barbarously robs him of it, almost as soon as he had savoured its incompar|able and matchless sweets.

One summer morning, loving and truly observ|ing Sally, knowing her husband delighted in slowers and greens, went to Covent-Garden, in order to buy some to garnish her windows and chimney, being the only things wanting to complete the neatness of her lodging, which she kept in the greatest order.—As she was going, she most unfortunately met with the perjured knight, who deceived her out of her virtue, and with whom she had lived a considerable time, in expectation of his fulfilling the promise he made her, when she put him in possession of her maiden-treasure; who being glutted with his sacri|legious theft, most basely and ungratefully left her destitute. Fain would she have shunned the fatal principal and origin of her past misfortunes, and hellish motive of her late evil life, which she mortal|ly abhorred, and zealously renounced: But inexo|rable sate has decreed her ruin; she can no wise avoid him; he was too near before she perceived him, and bad hold of her hand ere she could shift out of his way. Being thus suddenly stopt by him, she would have embraced the severest death, to avoid the vile seducer, by whom her innocence was first betrayed. The irreconcileable antipathy she had con|ceived for the mortal enemy of her newly retrieved virtue, being startled at his terrifying appearance, set her whole faculty in an uproar, and scares away her senses, not so much as a word left her to express her trouble.

The amorous knight, whose late love for the ••air Sally (whose regular living had repaired those

charms her former lewd life had very much dama|ged) was revived, and grown more passionate than ever, flattering his hopes with the thoughts, that her present disorder proceeded from joy and surprise, took the opportunity of an empty hackney-coach which was going by, to bring her to his lodgings: So having stopped it, he puts in the poor disperited woman, altogether insensible of what was done, or designed; but having, with the shaking of the coach recovered a little spirit, and finding herself so much in his power, as aimed at her total ruin, she gave a loud shriek, which occasioned the coach to be stopped by some people who were going by; but his protesting he had no other design but to take her to a friend's house till she was entirely re|covered, representing also the danger of exposing herself by opposing his kind intention, being then near a street where he and she had lived together a considerable time, in some measure pacified her: So having put his head out of the coach, he tells the people who stood by, that his wife who had been lately overset, was afraid of the like accident, which made her scream; so bid the coachman drive on; during which time he entertains her with all the marks of a passionate lover, swearing over and over, he was her slave for ever, and that now kind fortune once more brought them together, none but death should severe him from the person he loved so dear; and that he would expire in those soft arms which often gave him life.

These fond expressions, which she formerly had given credit to, are now upbraidings and reproach|es for her too easy credulity, and only increased her hatred for the deluder; which, at that time, she thought proper to conceal: Thus, restraining her passion, she assumes a seigned calmness, and mildly

returns him thanks for his love, which she cannot indulge, being married. Married! said he, and I living! Was you not mine? I was, indeed, replied she, blushing with anger and shame. But what was I! I tremble to think on it. Why, said he, my love and heart's delight, and shall be, whilst breath keeps it in motion. Oh! false man! said she, weeping most bitterly, repeat not those delud|ing words, which betrayed my virtue. Come, said he, cease that flood which overflows my soul with the bitterest of sorrows, and reprieve the most peni|tent of men from the cruelest of deaths: My sub|missive observance of your inclinations shall hence|forth a••one for all past given displeasures. Mean you, said she as you speak? By all that is sacred, I do, replied he. Then, said Sally, joyful, set me down here, and I will forgive what is past. No, my dear, this being a request I cannot in honour grant, I may, without breach of promise refuse; I must see you quite re-established first.

By this time the coach was arrived to the direct|ed place, which proved to be an house where she had last lived with the knight; which being open, and the landlady at the door, obliged her to go in without resistance; fearing it would be of no use, but rather prejudicial to her design: So she quiet|ly went in, hoping she would have a better oppor|tunity to get away, after she had made the landlady understand that she was married. But the sordid wretch, hoping the knight would lodge there again, who proved an extraordinary beneficial lodger be|fore, went out of the room, and left her to his plea|sure.

Poor Sally, seeing herself at the point of being a second time undone, there being no one to assist her within, nor hopes of any help from abroad, the

room she was in being back wards, next to large gardens, and distant from the house, and therefore out of hearing, gives herself up to despair, seeking the opportunity of laying hold of his sword, on which she was resolved to fall, rather than yield to his adulterous desires. Thus, whilst the knight was labouring to express the height of his love, by the most endearing terms, and prevailing words, the most passionate, lover could invent, she of a sudden snatched the sword from his side, and turned the point thereof towards her breast, in order to exe|cute her barbarous, though virtuous, resolution. What do you mean? said he, laying hold of her arm. To get myself at liberty, said she, which you basely refuse: So falls into a violent fit, which last|ed some minutes; which was no sooner over, but it was succeeded by another, and so on for the space of three hours; at the end of which time she was so ••aint and weak, that her life was despaired of, and so continued all day; which made the knight re|pent that he had forced her to stay, so much against her will; heartily wishing that he knew where she lived, that he might send her home; which she not being well enough to tell, the landlady but the knight's order, got the best room of the house fitted up for her; and the bed being warmed, she was carefully laid in it, and a doctor sent for; who having felt her disordered pulse, said her indisposi|tion proceeded from passion and grief, and ordered that she should be let blood, which would give her oppressed spirits a present relief. The physician was no sooner gone, but the surgeon was sent for, to perform the doctor's orders, which gave her im|mediate case, and in a little time caused her to sleep, which lasted all the night.

This great and sudden amendment much rejoic|ed the most afflicted knight, who made a vow not to leave her till she was restored to her wonted health; sitting up by her all night.

The next morning, Sally, whose good night's rest had in a great measure recovered both strength and reason, finding herself in a strange bed, and from her husband, was again seized with surprise, which did much threaten a relapse. Heavens said she, by what enchantment am I here! What fiends could ravish me out of my dear spouse's arms? Then, seeing the knight stand by the bed side she gives a loud shriek: Oh, vile ravisher! said she, is it then by another of your hellish stratagems that I am again betrayed into your power? at which she fell into a violent fit of crying.—No, most virtuous woman, replied the knight, falling 〈◊〉〈◊〉 his knees, it is by accident, of which I own myself to be the most miserable occasion; for which I ask both Heaven and your pardon. Then he relates the whole matter, which the late illness her excessive grief and passion brought upon her, and had made her forget.

That woeful relation did but add to her trouble, by heightening her grief. Oh! said she, with a fresh shower of tears, how can I now look my dear husband in the face, when my very justification turns to shame?

The knight, who was in as great a consternation as she could be in, takes her hand, which lay motion|less out of the bed, and bathing it with tears, begs her to-forbear terrifying his most penitent soul, promising to rectify all past wrongs: You remem|ber, my life, said he, the vows I made when first you gave yourself to me; I renew them now, and would fulfil them, but that would expose you to the rigour of the law: Therefore I will only, for the

present, settle five hundred pounds a-year upon you for your life, till, by your husband's death, I am im|powered to make you lawful mistress of all my estate. Pray compose yourself, and sedately consid|er on it, and when it is come to a conclusion, I'll at|tend for your answer: So withdrew for a while.

This generous offer, expressing the sincerity of his love, for whom she had formerly more than a common esteem, in a great measure appeased her passion; the offered atonement disarms her revenge; she now pleads for him she had condemned, and blames herself for the crime she had charged him with. How could I, said she, think my virtue safe in his hands, on whom love has such an ascendant (which is itself guilty of as many faults as it covers?) if he went away with my heart, it was but a breach of trust: Besides, his absence was no flight, it being occasioned by business.

Having made these reconcileable reflections, and being at the point of accepting his offer, conscience starts and opposes her resolution: Her husband stands in the way, rigid ••n all those engaging qualifi|cations which had won her affection. This, coming into her mind, in a manner scares away her reason; she cannot help loving both: Her love for the knight pleads seniority, and that for her husband jus|tice. The first is attended with interest, the last is prompted by virtue. The debate is great, and both their arguments strong: Reason is called to decide the matter, which, having (as it is her custom) se|dately weighed the cause, examined both accidents and incidents, at last seems inclinable to favour the love for the knight; but justice who is always in the right, will not resign it: Peace and content, the on|ly motives worth contending for, must be consulted. They, being also cautious of giving a rash verdict

examined on which side they were in most safety; and, finding themselves most screened from upbraid|ings and reproaches (their mortal enemies) from the knight, gave it of his side. So justice, who seldom gets its due, is forced to drop the cause, and tacitly withdraws.

The knight's offer, being the softest choice for an easy and quiet life, which she could not reasonably expect from her husband, who doubtless would, from the late accident, conceive an ill opinion of her vir|tue, (which although at that time blameless, she could not with modesty vindicate) having sent for the knight, she speaks to him after this manner:

I have had so much reason to repent my being too credulous, by the many vexations it has occa|sioned me now that should I, upon the bare repeat|ing of broken promises, expose myself to the same, you yourself could not but blame me. Indeed, dear Sally, said the knight, interrupting her, I own you have sufficient cause to question my sincerity; but I will this moment remove it: So that moment sends for a lawyer, and makes the proposed settlement; then gives orders that a mercer should be fetched for her, to take her choice of the most modish silks, and then for a silk night-gown, for her to wear till her clothes were made; as also for all manner of linen, shoes, and stockings. Then having new rig|ed her from top to toe, now, said he, my dear, you are entirely mine; give me directions, that I may send your husband what he can challenge as his own; so writes the following letter:

SIR,

Lest the absence of her, who unthinkingly gave her|self to you for a vise (though not at her own disposal, being mine before) should cause you any farther trouble, these are to satisfy you that I have retaken possession of

my own; so send you back her clothes, as being all you can claim a right to.

I am yours, R. S.

Having sealed up the letter and bundled up the clothes, a porter was called, to whom orders were give to carry the bundle and letter, to the most per|plexed and concerned Quarll, who spent the night in unspeakable torm••nt. A thousand dismal acci|dents glared at his alarmed fancy, which created new racks for his tortured soul. He tumbles on his bed like an unmasted ship tossed about by a vi|olent storm, cursing the tedious hours for creeping thus in the dark night; taxing the sun with ••nkind|ness. Thus, like one bereft of his senses, and quite void of reason, he snarles at the whole creation.

At length, the long wish'd for day having sent forth its dawn, to proclaim its approach, he starts from off the bed whereon he lay as if upon thorns, and like a madman runs about to inform himself of what he dreads, more than death, to know. But hav|ing spent several hours in diligent inquiry after late|ly befallen accidents, without hearing of any; jea|lousy creeps in, which in some measure removes his former fears, but it no wise lessens his pains. Thus he returns home as much racked as before.

Being arrived, he finds on his table a bundle, and a letter, which his landlady told him were brought by a porter. His impatience to know the contents of both were equal; but the bundle being more sur|prising to him, he precipitately opens it first; which finding it to be every individual part of the clothes his wife had on the day before, when she went out; with the surprise, he lets it drop out of his hands, and like one thunder-struck, remained speechless for sev|eral minutes. Then fetching a deep and heavy sigh, attended with a shower of tears, he bitterly exclaims against himself for questioning the faithfulness of

that love, of which he not has such fatal proofs.

Thus, concluding she had drowned herself, and that the letter would inform him of the cause there|of; he takes it up, saying O! that thou hadst been a timely forerunner of the fatal tidings thou art bearer of! Yet, for her dear sake that wrote it, I'll peruse thee, tho' thy contents be but racks for me and the most cruel tortures that ever were or can 〈◊〉〈◊〉 invented. But great was his surprise, when he found it to come from a man; and inex|pressible his 〈◊〉〈◊〉 at the contents; his senses are all in an 〈◊〉〈◊〉 he blames his eyes for not see|ing right; his apprehension for mistaking the mean|ing; His blind love ••axes his reason with rashness, the mistaken expressions being but illusions pro|ceeding from an oppression upon the intellects: So lays down the letter till his disturbed mind was bet|ter settled. Yet he cannot be easy he must, with some other writing, try whether his eyes are still de|fective: On which, finding no fault, he hastily takes up the letter again; but alas! it was the same as before. My judgment, said he, has been as much wronged as my love. So after a few considerations, calling to mind, that as an accident had procured her to him, he ought, without reluctancy, to surren|der her again; having made a resolution never to ven|ture any more on that uncertain state, which com|monly promises happiness, but often brings sorrow; He shifts his lodging, and goes to live where he was unknown, she batter to pass for a bachelor; in which free station he enjoyed peace undisturbed, and pleasures uncontrolled, for the space of twelve months: But cross fate still pursues him; he must again be fettered, and bear yet heavier chains than before. A second male is allotted him, who, though very chaste, dooms him wretched, being short of

other qualifications necessary in a wise to make a man happy.

This woman had been bred up from her infancy under the care of a lady, whose two daughters Quarll taught to sing, and had lived with her in sta|tion of a chamber maid, ever since she was big enough to officiate in that place; during which time, having behaved herself to her mistress's content, she gained her affection; so that this good lady, being desirous to advance her maid, whose age fitted her for marriage, the chief settlement for a woman, she cast her eyes upon her daughter's singing master, who she thought would make her a good husband, having observed him ever since he came to her house, to carry and behave himself very decently. Thus having declared her mind to her, who had already a great inclination that way, she readily submitted to her lady's will, who promised to bring it about.

The good lady, having conceived the principal means to bring her design about, took the opportu|nity of Quarlls next coming, to propose it to him; promising to make her worth three hundred pounds, which was the only motive that could engage him to break the resolution he had made. They young woman being also very agreeable in her person, and extraor|dinary obliging to him, he readily accepted the offer.

The old lady, having so far prevailed upon him, is resolved to push on till quite concluded; so has them married in less than a week, and gave them lodgings in her house, where they continued but one month. The new married wife, thinking herself, in some measure under confinement whilst in the good lady's house, to whom duty and gratitude obliged her to be more than indifferently observing, being somewhat ambitious of living great, persuades her husband to take a house and furnish it; which being

done according to her desire, they went away from the kind old lady to live by themselves, without considering the expence of housekeeping, which they both, till then, had been strangers to, but, in a little time, became too well acquainted with.

The three hundred pounds being gone in furnish|ing the house and paying two years rent, and as ma|ny years wages to a couple of maids, one whereof she kept in the station she herself had but lately over|come; Quarll was obliged to reduce his charges, and level his expences to his income; so discharges the superfluous servant, whose business was only to indulge her indolence and increase her pride.

That sudden lessening of her attendants checked her ambitious disposition, in such a manner that it threw her into the 〈◊〉〈◊〉; which was like to have cost him more money in doctors than the servant's wages which he endeavoured to 〈◊〉〈◊〉.

Being taken very ill, and knowing not what to complain of, a doctor was granted, at her importu|nity, rather than her need; who being come, and finding her indisposition he in her temper, more than a defect of nature, ordered her medicines to make them both in the same condition.

Her strength decaying, and the apothecary's bill increasing, which are the usual effects of imaginary illness, made her husband apprehensive, that consid|erable charges might accrue from her fanciful and imaginary distemper, which he would not indulge; and feared to check too suddenly, lest it might pro|duce some other ill effect: So, in compliance to her natural pride, he proposes her going into the country, as being a proper expedient 〈◊〉〈◊〉 save his money, and to be rid of a grunting companion, at least during the summer.

This proposal, suiting her ambition to imitate quality (who, for the generality, go out of town a|bout that time of the year,) was soon accepted of: and that opportunity of being freed from one of the greatest plagues which can be••al a man, by him as soon approved.

Quarll, having got her in the mind, was no wise dilatory to get it performed; but made diligent in|quiry about the most convenient place in the coun|try, for remoteness and cheapness; which being in|formed of, he forthwith takes horse, and having found a good old countryman, with his wise and daughter, in Yorkshire, whose diligent care, and frugal living, whilst young and strong, had been rewarded with a moderate competence, to keep him from toiling when grown old; who, having a plea|sant and commodious habitation, distant from med|dling and inspecting neighbours, and room to spare, were very glad to take in a gentlewoman to board, being some company for them in their remote liv|ing, and therefore stood upon no rate: which suit|ing Quarll's circumstances and wished, he began to consult on means to keep his wife there for a con|stancy: And as he well knew she never would consent, nor he be able to force her to it by vio|lence, he applies to stratagems. Thus, having giv|en her the best character he could to the old people for good humour, he tells them, that indeed she had one failing, but that was no ways troublesome pro|vided one gave her her way: She is very vapour|ish, and looks for great attendance. O dear! that's quality distemper. Well, if that be all, replied the old folks, she shall not want for any one thing. More, said he, I must caution you of, which is this: She will soon be tired of her lodging, and will be for returning to London; so will seek all opportuni|ties

to steal away, if she finds herself opposed in her desires: Therefore it is best not to contradict her directly, but be sure watch her narrowly, left she gives you slip. Never f••ar, replied the good peo|ple, we'll take care of that: She never shall go one step alone. She is not apt to lay violent hands up|on herself, and do herself a mischief? No, no, re|plied he, there's no danger of that; you may trust her alone within doors at any time, but never a|broad. One thing more I must give you notice of; that is, when she finds she cannot get away, she'll be for sending letters: I charge you, let her have no paper, only at first; to write me once or twice, or so; and that you'll guess, when proper, by her railing, which will be a token of her being discomposed: And, as for her diet, she is something dainty; but I see you have plenty of poultry, which she loves very well. O dear, Sir, answered the old woman, she shall have fish, flesh, and fowl, when she pleases. We have a fine pond in the ground, well stocked with fish; and cocks and hens enough you see, about the yard; and for butcher's meat; it is but two or three hours ride to the next town.

So Quarll having agreed, and paid one quarter, before hand, which he promised to do whilst she boarded there, he returns to London, in order to fetch his wife; who having projected a greatness of living in the country, which she was disappointed of in town, immediately inquired into the appear|ance of the house, the handsomeness of the lodgings, and the gentility of the neighbours: To which questions Quarll took care to answer suitable to her inclination. So, having concluded to go the next day, they went out to make pro••••sion of such things as cannot well be had in the country; as Nantz brandy, rata••••a, usquebaugh, coffee, chocolate,

and such things as were necessary for genteel company.

Being provided with every thing, they set out the next day; but as neither lodgings, house, or neigh|bourhood, answered her ambition, nor his commen|dations, he contrived to arrive in the night, that she might not find the deceit; and as the good people of the house, according to direction, shewed her a|bundance of respect, giving her the title of lady, and a good supper being prepared; she inquired no farther into the matter. The next morning Quarll, having represented to his spouse, it would be of prejudice to him if he staid any longer from his scholars, having already lost six days, took his leave of her, and left her in bed, it not being her usual time to rise: So having promised to be with her in a short time, to see how she liked her lodg|ings, he returned to London, having first renewed his charge to the good people of the house of giving her her humour; and, above all, not to let her go out alone, nor consent to her coming up to London; which, in a little time, he questioned none but she would be very desirous of.

Quarll being gone, the old people, according to their charge, were extraordinary diligent and careful in pleasing their new lodger; who finding her ambi|tion gratified by their observance, kept in that day: but the next morning, having a fancy to walk out, the young woman of the house took her to see the ground and cattle which belonged to them, as being the principal things she could shew her; there be|ing neither house nor habitation, but their own lit|tle cottage, within sight. She, who thought her lodgings to be in a handsome and creditable house, near a genteel neighbourhood, with whom she might converse; finding the reverse of her expectations, could not conceal her passion at the disappointment;

but falls a railing against her husband in such a rage as frightened the poor young woman; who doubt|ing she was going into one of her fits, ran home to fetch her father and mother; who being come, were as much frightened as their daughter, at her furious countenance, the blood being ready to start out of her face, and her eyes out of her head. Thus, fear|ing she would grow unruly, each of them took hold of one of her arms and so in a manner dragged her home; where, being come, they would have laid her upon the bed: But she, who took this act of their caution for an effect of their careful attend|ance, told them that indeed she could not find fault with them; and that their habitation might suit their birth; but really it did not hers, which her husband very well knew; and therefore she never would for|give him for bringing her thither, and that he should soon know: So desired them to give her paper and ink, if the house could afford such a thing.

The good people, who had been cautioned to give her her humour in that at the beginning, hav|ing none at home, sent the boy that attended their sheep on horseback to the next town for them; then leaving her to compose herself, they retired to bewail among themselves her misfortune, which they perceived to be the effect of pride; reflecting upon the happiness of their own condition, and the plea|sure of a contented life.

* 2.1 Now, said they, she has been brought up in a city, where excess of pleasure and luxury are made the only means to arrive at content; but alas! how widely do they miss their aim? Their life

is a continued series of cares; their emulation and vanity in fashions, entertainments, and such like, together with their inseperable companion, envy, only contribute to make an unhappy life still more miserable.

Here this gentlewoman wants for no manner of necessaries to make life comfortable, but has rath|er a superabundancy. Could she reject that hor|bid pain causing quality of pride, and learn a little humility, it is that brings content, and sweetens all the misfortunes of this life. How preferable is our station to hers? How solid is the pleasure we enjoy in this solitary habitation, compared to the trifling joys the great ones possess in the most populous cities! O happy fields, and silent groves! where nothing but eternal rounds of pleasure cen|tre! Here no debaucheries, riotings, fashions, and luxurious entertainments; no envy of others good fortune; no drunkenness, swearing, and blasphe|ming the mercies of the Almighty God, ever take place, as in flourishing cities; but Providence gives us all things with a bountiful hand: In short, we have all we desire, and more than we justly deserve. Here the beauteous birds, joyfully hop|ping from bough to bough, stretching their tuneful throats and warble out melodious anthems to their great Creator's praise; whilst flowery hills in harmo|nious echoes, repeat the same to the fruitful neigh|bouring vales. Here's nothing to be seen or heard but universal acclamations of praise to the great God of all things. This is the real solid pleasure; this is that makes us perfectly happy. For how much more eligible is the company of irrational animals, or even inanimate things, than the socie|ty of men, who have divested themselves of all things but shape, whereby to distinguish them

from the most deformed brutes, or indeed from more horrible devils? This gentlewoman has put us in mind of our own happiness, of which, before her coming, we were almost ignorant; but now we may see, that happiness consists not in riches, nor content in gaudy apparel.—But why do we tarry here? It is not proper to leave the gen|tle woman so long alone, left, in one of her fits, she should do herself a mischief: Therefore let one of us go to her.

So the good woman of the house went to her, and finding her in tears, used all possible endeavours to divert her melancholy, but all to no purpose; for still she was interrupted by exclamations against that villain! that rogue! her husband. The good woman, finding that words could not prevail, thought a glass of ratifia might do better; so desired her to comfort herself, and take a glass of her cordial; to which she soon consented, and after that four or five more, which had the de|sired effect, for her melancholy was by this time turned into most violent fits of spleen, and presently into drowsiness. The landlady, perceiving her condition, desired her to lie down, and refresh her|self by taking a little sleep: So, laying her down upon her bed, and watching her to sleep, retired.

After she had slept an hour or two, she awakes, in a very splenetic humour, and calls to know the reason, why pen, ink, and paper were refused her. Indeed, said the old woman, we did not know that your ladyship was awake; and we did not care to disturb you; but I'll bring it to you presently: So went and brought it. Which she no sooner receiv|ed, but she began to write the following letter:

Most barbarous of men,

WAS you afraid that my indisposition (for which you most deceitfully did persuade me to leave London) would not kill me quick enough itself, that you have de|coyed me to an oven the dulness whereof is sufficient to make any well-bred do•• pine itself to death; here no•• being a rational creature to talk to, but the insipid folks of the hut; who being-script of their clumsy human shape, will be as complete brutes as their oxen and cows. Pray see that you forthwith fetch me hence, or expect to incur all the resentment an injured wife can show, as soon as arrived to London, where I shall surely come in a few days, though, I was to travel all the way barefoot.

Yours, &c. MARY QUARLL.

This letter being wrote, the good people of the house were in a great consternation, whether they ought to send it, or not; but, after some consulta|tion about the matter they concluded it should not go, left her husband should take it amiss.

Quarll who expected some such letter from his haughty dame, as soon as she had discovered the cheat had with a great deal of judgment, prepared the following answer.

My Dear,

IF your pride and vanity do out-run your reason, it is no argument my compliance to them should hasten my ruin: And if you consult your circumstances, as I do my ability, you will not discommend

Your careful husband, PHILIP QUARLL

And with that, one to her landlord and landlady, whom he thanked for their care of sending the let|ter; but desired they would not trouble themselves with sending any more, nor give her opportunity of ••riting, seeing it did but aggravate her distem|per and, above all things, to have a particular care she should not give them the slip, and he would take care to gratify them for their trouble.

This obliging 〈◊〉〈◊〉, together with a present of a pair of handsome green stockings, and lemon colour gloves to the daughter, did so win the old folks af|fection, that they were extremely punctual in ob|serving his orders: But that to his wife, had a quite different success; for instead of putting her into consideration, it set her in such a violent rage, as would scarce permit her to read it throughout: So tearing it to pieces, she storms cut. Consider my cir|cumstances! vile wretch! let him behold my por|tion, whether it deserves me no better a thing than a hovel! Landlady, send immediately to the town, and get me a pl•••••• in the stage against to|morrow; for I will go and tear that villain to pieces.

The good woman was not a little displeased to hear her thus despise her house, which was the best within a mile round; but as she imagined it was the effect of her vapours, instead of vindicating her house, which though old and low-built, was tolera|ble large, and very convenient, she seemed to ac|quiesce with her, wishing it had been better for her lake: But as for sending to take a place, it was then too late; for by the time a messenger could be got to town, the office would be shut up; but that the next time she went out, she would take care a place should be taken: So excused it for that week. In the mean time she gave her her humour, being very respectful and observing; which, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 her pride,

made her something more easy and in some mea|sure diverted her ••aving fits; for she fully depend|ed upon going the week following, but was again disappointed by one mishap or other, and so from time to time; till at last she began to doubt of their giving orders, meaning to keep her there: Thus resolved to go herself, but not knowing the way, she desired somebody might be sent along with her; which they were ready to grant, but never could be had, being always out of the way, about some business or other.

This continuing for the space of a month, or more, and no news coming from London, she be|gan to think it was a contrivance of her husband's to be rid of her with only paying for her board and lodging, which she understood he had done before|hand, and agreed to do so during her stay, which, very probably, might be for her life; but resolved to disappoint him, by privily stealing away, and at a venture seek out the road to the next town, not questioning but she should find somebody as she went that would direct her: But the old folks hav|ing been warned of such an enterprise by her hus|band, were too vigilant to give her an opportunity of attempting it, never leaving her by herself from the time of her getting up to her going to bed again; which over attendance convinced her of her im|prisonment.

Then finding herself curbed in her ambition, disappointed in her pride, and tricked out of her liberty, without hopes of being relieved; the letters she sent to her friends being intercepted; she falls into a passion suitable to her case and disposition; which, having vented upon the people of the house for abetting and adhering to her perfidious husband in so traiterous a deed, her spirits being exhausted

so prodigiously with raving, that nothing but a cor|dial dram could ever have brought them to their usual tone, and which she by long experience knew, calls for her grand specific and after she had drank three or four refreshing glasses, she became more easy, and retired to rest: When, having slept a few hours, she awakes something better composed. Thus, considering that all the resentment she was capable to shew, could not mend her condition; she therefore concluded to make the landlord and landlady her friends that if she did not enjoy her liberty, as proposed, she might at least enjoy a little more content in her confinement.

Thus she resolved and indeed kept her resolution a long time; laying a side her haughty temper and curbing those violent passions she had so long ac|customed herself to, she now began to be much more familiar and condescending, than what she had hitherto been, to the great joy and surprise of the good people; who by this strange alteration, were in great hopes her madness was wearing off; and upon that account were extremely industrious to humour her in every point; using her with all the good manners they were capable of: Which she easily perceiving, thought to make use of their cre|dulity to her advantage; for she was a woman of very quick penetration: And finding how egregi|ously those ignorant people had been imposed upon, in relation to her phrenzy, saw the only means to regain her liberty, was to pretend a recovery. And, accordingly by a counterfeit change of temper, endeavoured to persuade the people into a good opinion of her; telling them, she could never re|quite their extreme good services to her during her indisposition; and lamenting her own unhappiness in being so troublesome and fatiguing to persons

of so kind and obliging behaviour. They, in like manner, answered, that if their poor services had contributed any thing to her ease or recovery, they were sufficiently made amends for all their trouble.

Now the scene was entirely changed; the raving, proud, ill-natured gentleman became the most pleasant, sociable, and best natured person they had ever met with: And they, who just before conceiv|ed so great a dislike to her, were now so delighted with her company and conversation, that she was less alone than formerly, they always contriving some diversion or other to drive away her melan|choly, and to prevent a relapse; hoping to send the welcome news of her perfect recovery to her hus|band: Frequently pleasing her with odd country ••ales, shewing her all the pleasures their fields, gar|dens, and orchards could afford, with many other little contrivances to pass the time away; while she endeavoured to divert them with the comical ad|ventures of the Londoners. This she endured al|most a whole month, with all the seeming good-na|ture imaginable; but finding herself in no way to procure her enlargement, and rather more strictly guarded than formerly, resolved to obtain her lib|erty by stratagem, which she designed in the follow|ing manner.

There was a servant in the house, whose name was Thomas, and a lively, brisk, fresh coloured young man, indeed a fellow of admirable sense, and good manners: This spark was of a very amorous disposition, well versed in intrigues, and extremely obliging in his temper and behaviour; who, as soon as he saw Quarll's wife, began to think of his former way of living. Now this young fellow was born in London, of very mean parents, whose friends not being able to give him a trade, he was obliged to

enter himself a member of the ancient and honour|able society of 〈◊〉〈◊〉. His first service was to a gentlewoman, where he learnt all the necessary qualifications of his employ; but his mistress being a very rebellious woman, going to church two or three times every day, where he was obliged con|stantly to attend her, and so much gravity not suiting his mercurial temper, soon obliged him to quit his post. But he being an arch wag, and fly knave, soon advanced himself to be a footman to a young nobleman. Here he began to shew his genius; for his master, being a young gentleman very much delighted with love adventures, frequently made use of him in those cases! and finding him to be of a sharp, ready wit, very careful, and well skilled in taciturnity, soon made him secret messenger in or|dinary to all his in••••igues; in which station he be|haved himself admirably well, having all the accom|plishments necessary for so weighty a trust, viz. vigilance, dispatch and secrecy; and these so well managed, that he seldom failed in his designs. This post of honour he enjoyed for a long time, with great credit and reputation, and gained so great a share in his master's affections, that he likewise made him first minister of all his affairs.

Now Tom is arrived to the very summit of his fortune; regaling himself in all kinds of pleasures, beloved and trusted by his master, honoured and respected by his fellow-servants; and, in short, might be said to be perfectly happy. But here that jilt, which so long flattered him with her kind em|braces, at one fatal blow, removes all the means whereby he ascended, and pushes him from the lof|ty precipice to the deepest sink of poverty imagin|able.

Tom's master being a lover of variety, his curios|ity prompted him to see the diversion of a country wake, in order to start-some fresh game; and to that purpose, disguises himself like a plain country gen|tleman, and equipped his man Tom in the same garb, on purpose to make him his companion in his adventure. This place, where he wake was kept, was about ten miles from the nobleman's seat; so each mounted his horse, and away they rode: When, being arrived at the town, nigh which they were to hunt their game, they both alight, and put up their horses at an inn; and having pulled off their boots, out they walk towards the place of rendezvous: As soon as they came within sight of the place, they be|held the fields prettily bespotted with different com|panies, at as many different diversions. In one place a parcel of wrestlers, eagerly contending, with broken shins, for a pair of gloves; in another, a company of cudgel-players, with battered ribs, fight|ing for a laced hat; some at one game, and some at another: But Tom and his master, who cared for neither broken shins nor bloody brows, resolved to seek out softer combatants.

After they had walked up and down the field, seeing the several diversions; Well, Tom, says the young nobleman, where's our diversion? Where are all our girls got to? O says Tom, we shall be in with 'em presently. Hark! I hear the noise of catgut; and I warrant we find them there. So, following their ears, instead of noses, they came to a most spacious dome, vulgarly called a barn; which they no sooner entered, but Tom says to his master, Here, Sir, here's variety for you; here's nymphs of all sorts and sizes; and, faith, of all complexions; they're all clean and neat; all fit for the game: Come, Sir, pick and choose. Which pretty smiling

rogue must be your nymph? Come, let's see what yo'ull do; for I long to be at it. Do you long to see what I ll do? says the nobleman; why, I intend to work miracles; I shall make my nymph a god|dess, before I leave her. Well, then, replied Tom, I suppose I may take the ••••iviledge to make my girl a nymph, at least.

While they were thus talking, they stood like two hawks hovering over their prey, not knowing on which to six their fatal talons, and the rustics start|ing at 'em with open mouth, and distended nostrils, not knowing what to thin of 'em. At length Mr. Scrape, by turning his ••••••lodious battered fiddle, summons all the girls to readiness, each preparing her feet for the sport; while every Hob began to seize a partner, and Tom and his master (in the mean time, you may be sure) were not idle: For, offering their service to a couple of pretty cherry|cheeked rogues, as Tom called them, the innocent girls very gladly accepted their offers, little dream|ing of their wicked intentions; but the mischief was the nobleman had got the girl which Tom had the most inclination to; which caused such a secret envy in his breast, that became the fatal cause of his unfortunate disgrace.

Now the dance was begun with great fury on both sides; the girls ramping and tearing, and the fellows pulling, and hauling, and shoving, and kis|sing, and tumbling like so many mad devils; while Tom and his master, being strangers to such kind of diversion, stood like two images, and the country fellows mocking them; which Tom observing, and seeing his partner very dull, thought they should never out do him in caterwauling: Therefore, shrugging up his shoulders, and rubbing his eyes a little bit, he began to be as brisk as the rest. The

nobleman, observing his man Tom's alteration, thought proper to follow his example; so, pushing down two or three girls, fell upon them, and kissed them till they were almost stifled; then, hoisting them up, extends his mouth to a full yawn, and laughs as loud, and with as good a grace, as any of them; while Tom, to show his activity, jumps about a yard high, always taking care to light up|on somebody's toes; which generally put the whole company into a loud fit of laughter; except the per|son hurt; who, in compliance to the rest, was obli|ged to put her mouth in a grinning posture.

Thus they became the most facetious companions imaginable (every one praising the two gentlemen's good humour and activity) and, in short, became the wonder of the whole company. But Tom and his master, having tired themselves and their part|ners sufficiently, began to think of retiring, in or|der to refresh their wearied limbs: and, mentioning the same to their nymphs, the poor girls, very wil|lingly accompanied them. Now, they thought themselves secure of their intended sport, and con|ducted them, for that purpose, to the inn where they had put up their horses.

As soon as they were set down, they ordered wine to be brought, and a supper got ready, in or|der to detain and intoxicate the girls, if possible; and therefore they plied them very close with li|quor: Now Tom's partner, being a very brisk, live|ly girl, never refused her glass; but the nobleman's was of a very mild, easy dep••rtment, and would drink but little: He, seeing her temper, began to be very amorous, on purpose to try what they would do; but she, in so sweet and easy a manner check|ed his rudeness, that it raised in Tom a most vio|lent passion for his master's partner. At length,

supper was brought to table, which was no sooner over, but the night began to appear: The two girls perceiving the time, desired leave to go home, which the nobleman absolutely refused; but Tom, thinking to make sure of his game upon the road, consented to go with his partner; which the other hearing, begged not to be left alone, but that she might go likewise. The nobleman (thinking he had not brought her to her desired pitch) as heartily desired her to stay, v••••wing that nobody should wrong or hurt her; but when the other gentleman returned (meaning Tom) they would both conduct her home: So, by mere dint of argument, prevail|ed upon her to tarry till Tom's return.

Now Tom, as soon as he had got from the town, began to attack her fort, which alter a little parley, surrendered at discretion; so Tom raz'd the walls to the ground, entered the castle, and took possession of the city: All which being transacted, he leaves her, promising to revisit her the next day, and bends his hasty steps towards the inn, with a deal of impa|tience; muttering these words, as he went: What a blockhead was I to let my master be too nimble for me! Ah! fool that I was, to lose so delicious a morsel, and take possession of so easy a fool! who as soon as asked, consented; when the other, with all the pretty engaging airs, so modestly cheeks any thing that looks like rudeness. Well, faith, since it is so, I'll 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the best on to and try whether I can|not chouse him of his partner: So said, so resolved, and indeed so done.

For, as soon as Tom came in, the girl claimed their promise; saying, the gentleman was so rude, that she would stay no longer; desiring them either to go home with her, or let her go by herself. But Tom desirous to renew the sport, begged of her, with

all the prevailing arguments he was capable of, to tarry; telling her he was a little tired with the walk he had taken, and wanted to refresh himself: So de|sired her to stay, while he only took a glass, and he would go with her. The girl very unwillingly com|plied, and sat down again. The nobleman, finding Tom had no mind to part with her, imagined he was bringing about what he himself had so long endea|voured in vain; and therefore, pulling out his watch, he starts up in haste, and says he must needs go, for it was past the time he promised to be at a certain place: So tells the girl he very unwillingly left her; but he hoped this would not break their new ac|quaintance for he would pay her a visit in a short time, desiring to be excused for this time; and he believed he could prevail upon the other gentle|man to conduct her home. Tom, who understood his meaning, follows him to the door, and there re|ceives his charge, which was, that he should bring her to a house they both knew about three miles off, as soon as possible: So took his leave, mounted his horse, and went thither, impatiently waiting for his prey.

Now Tom was extremely pleased with his master's intentions, resolving to put the bite upon the bitter; and, as soon as the nobleman departed, be|gan to attack the fortification with all the artillery wine and soft words could supply him with: But the defendant, proof to battery of this kind, held out nobly a long time, and moved strongly for a cessation of arms, desiring leave to go home: But Tom, acquainted with the various turns of intrigues, resolved not to lose his game, being well assured he should bring her to articles in a little time; and began a fresh attack, which lasted so long, that she was obliged to cry for quarters; but it being too

late for going home, Tom persuaded her to lie there; assuring her, that he would see her well pro|vided for; and so, in a short time, she blushingly consented.

Thus Tom, having gained his point, orders a bed to be got ready; and then desired his mistress, who was, by this time, much overcome with wine and sleep, to go to bed. The poor girl (still between doubt and fear) knew not what to say, but, trem|bling, denies what her looks desired; and, after a great many arguments on both sides, she resigns herself entirely to him. The sly knave, joyful of his prey, conducts his mistress to bed; but, as they were going, the old crafty innkeeper cries, in mere form, I hope, Sir, that is your wife, for I would by no means have any thing dishonest in my house. Yes, yes (says our rogue,) you may assure yourself it is my wife, or else I should not have offered to go to bed with her; while the poor girl, hiding her face, ran up stairs as fast as she could.

They had not been long above, when the noble|man, uneasy at their delay, returns to the inn, and inquires after the couple he left. Why, Sir, said the host, they are a-bed. A bed! says the noble|man; a-bed! Yes, answered he, it being too late to go home they took up their lodgings here, What! are they a-bed together? said the noble|man. Yes, says the innkeeper; I left them togeth|er. The nobleman, hearing this, stood like one thunder-struck, his eyes darting lightning, and his blood all in flame; but, bridling his passion; very cooly inquired where they lodged, saying he had some business of moment to impart to the gentle|man, and he must that minute speak with him. The innkeeper, unacquainted with his design, very com|plaisantly conducted him to their apartment; and

knocking at the door, told Tom the gentleman was returned and wanted to speak with him. Tom not being yet undressed, knowing his master's fiery temper, and the just resentment he was sure to meet with, opens the window, and out he jumps, without saying a word; and, having bruised himself with the fall, lay sometime upon the ground; till recov|ering himself a little, he precipitately got over the garden-wall, into which he had dropt from the win|dow, and scours over the fields as fast as he could, without ever looking back.

But having run himself out of breath, and think|ing himself out of danger, down he sits, reflecting upon his melancholy circumstances. O miserable wretch! says he, what have I done? How dare I ever see my master, who always reposed his trust in me? And I, like a perfidious villain, to deceive him! certain death attends me, if I go home; and, if I tarry here, there's nothing but beggary or starv|ing; I have at once lost all credit and reputation, and see nothing but ruin, unavoidable ruin. O woman, woman! cursed, bewitching woman! what an infinite number of mischiefs are ye the source of! But why do I exclaim against a woman so in|nocent, and so charming, when I, the traiterous de|ceiver, sought nothing but her eternal misery? O just Heaven! it was you that saved her from im|pending ruin, and deservedly threw all the fatal ef|fects upon myself: well, I will bear them patiently; load me with all the evils you can bring, till they mount so high, you can lay no more. Raving and cursing in this manner, he tired his spirits, and fell asleep.

Having slept sometime he awakes, wondering where he was: Did I dream, says he, or is it real? No, it must certainly be true; I am the most wretch|ed

mortal breathing; the very same ruin I intend|ed the poor innocent girl, has justly fallen upon myself; and what is become of her I know not, nor dare I to inquire; but I hope, as Heaven has hitherto protected her, it will likewise preserve her from the evil intents of my master. Reflecting up|on himself in this manner, he walked about till day|light, not knowing what to do, or whither to go: He was a great way from London, destitute of friends or acquaintance, little or no money in his pocket, and durst not see his master. Despairing in this condition, he saw a company of haymakers going to work; it being summer-time; and resolves to make one of their number, if possible; hoping by that means to keep himself from starving, and work his passage up to London.

With this resolution he attacks the haymakers, asking them from whence they came, and whither they were going: which they answered very civil|ly, telling him they came from London, and were going towards the north of England: So, being balked in his expectation of coming to London, a|long with them, he knew not what to do; but at last resolves to go along with them, hoping to meet something in his way that might make his jour|ney pleasant; so tells them his resolution to make one amongst them: But they, seeing a man genteel|ly dressed petitioning for a poor haymaker's place, took him to be only in jest, and told him they should be glad of such a companion, if he spoke as he thought. He protested to them the sincerity of his intention, telling them his misfortunes drove him to such low circumstances. They then said they should be very glad to serve him, and that their mas|ter would be in the field by and by, and he would hire him, for he wanted hands: So he went with

them, and tarried till the old farmer came, who, finding a well-dressed young fellow wanting an em|ployment of that kind, asked him a great many ques|tions, which Tom answered very pertinently: The farmer, therefore taking it only as a frolic, was willing not to balk him, and so hired him, saying, he might go to work that very day, if he would: but Tom wanting a fork, told him, that as soon as he could get his tools in readiness, he would come; so hires a man to go to the next town to buy him one, with which, as soon as brought, he falls to work very pleasantly.

Tom went with them from place to place, con|forming himself to their customs in every point, be|ing a very merry companion, and much beloved by his fellows: His present life became much pleasant|er than his former, never inquiring after his master, or country girl, nor did he know what was become of them. At last, it fell to his lot to be hired by the farmer he then worked for; who, seeing him a tractable, brisk young fellow, asked him whether he would be his servant; for he then wanted one. Tom, after a little hesitation, told him he should be glad of such a master; so struck a bargain, and hir|ed himself for a year.

Tom had not been there much above half a year, before Quarll's wife came down thither, who being a genteel London Madam, reminded him of his former intrigues, and raised in him an inclination for her; but being in so humble a station, he dared not attack the haughty dame, till he might find a fa|vourable opportunity; and so took all occasions to oblige her, and was better respected by her than any of the others; she often saying, that that fellow had a certain je-ne-scai quoi in him which at once claimed love and respect. Tom, understanding

this, thought time would certainly bring about his purpose; which not long after happened in this manner.

Tom, during her alteration of temper, had more liberty of conversing than before; and often divert|ed her with entertaining stories; and one day being alone with her, opened to her the whole series of his past fortunes and misfortunes, which she heard with great attention and pleasure; for Tom had never before discovered himself to any; but think|ing to gain credit with this gentlewoman, made her only privy to it. When Tom was gone, she began to reflect on the fellow's dexterity; and, believing him well skilled in all kind of adventures, thought he might be a fit instrument for her escape, and re|solved to advise with him about it: Accordingly the next day took an opportunity to call him to her again, when she was alone, desiring him to divert her with some of his merry tales, telling him she was then very melancholy. Madam, says Tom, I am sorry I should find you melancholy; but I will do all I can to please you. Ay, says she, if you knew the occasion of my melancholy, ••ou would pity me, as well as be sorry; but you cannot be ignorant what a prisoner I am made here, how con••••antly I am attended and have scarce any thing but brutes to speak to: I can assure you that this usage is enough to make me as mad as the people take me to be for I never was brought up in this manner, which my husband knows; it is only a con|trivance of his to keep me here a close prisoner, if possible; but I will deceive him, for if a woman's invention can find any means to escape this cursed place, he shall be sure to see me in London quick|ly, and that to his great mortification.

The sly rogue heard her very quietly, and tho't he might now have his desired ends: So tell her she might be released that very night, if she pleased, and he himself would accompany her to London; for he longed to be there again: She was glad to hear him say so; and asked by what means he intended to con|vey her thence. O Lord! says he, easy enough; I will tell you how; I will take a ladder, and set it against your window, and so come into your room, and take your clothes, and every thing you have a mind to send to London and carry them to a parti|cular acquaintance of mine: then I will come back and fetch you, and conduct you to the next town, which is not above five or six miles off, and stay there for the stage coach, and so both go to London together. The gentlewoman, willing to get her lib|erty at any rate agreed to the proposal, only desir|ing another day to look after all her things, and pack them up conveniently, because she would not hurry herself, lest they should mistrust, and stop her journey.

Tom consented to what she said, and wished for the approaching time; which being come, and all things in readiness, he brings the ladder, and mounts up towards the room; while she as readily delivers him, from the window, all her baggage ready pack|ed up; which Tom takes and carries away, and pres|ently returns to fetch the gentlewoman; who, over|joyed to think herself freed from that tire some place, gets out of the window, and began to descend the ladder; but being over eager, and not used to en|terprises of that kind, her foot slipped, and down she ••umbles, ladder and all; which Tom seeing, knew the consequence, and ran away as fast as he could, leaving Mrs. Quarll to get up by herself; for the ladder, in tumbling, broke the windows

where the old farmer lay, and made an horrid noise, so that it scared the old man out of his sleep, who got up to see what was the matter; and perceiving the gentlewoman's window open, and a fellow run|ning cross the yard, cries out murder! thieves! thieves! which alarmed the whole family; some getting pitchforks some pokers; some one thing some another, in order to scare the thieves; but the old man, with his fowling-piece in hand, like a no|ble commander, led the van, searching all his house over for thieves, and to see what he had lost, care|fully looking into every hole and corner, not dar|ing to advance too fast, for fear of a surprise; and coming to Mrs. Quarll's room whose window he had seen open, calls to her for a long time; but hearing no answer, fancied she was murdered, and therefore breaks open the door, and searches the room; but there was no Mrs. Quarll to be found; they sta••ed one at another not knowing what to think. However, when they had examined all the house they boldly 〈◊〉〈◊〉 into the yard to hunt the thieves there: and looking about, they perceived something under the ladder, which looked like wo|men's clothes; so taking it up, they pulled from un|der it, a real woman. something like Mrs. Quarll; and, looking more narrowly, perceived it to be the very same individual person, almost dead with the fright, and bruises she had received.

And now their greatest wonder was, how she came thither: The old man said, he believed some thieves had gotten into the house, and to prevent her cry|ing, had stopped her mouth, and thrown her out of the window. But, says another wiseacre, how came she to have her clothes on? I am sure she ought to have been a bed. Now, adds he, I believe the de|vil tempted her to throw herself out at the window;

and that must certainly be he you saw run across the yard so swiftly. Thus they disputed a long time, but at last agreed, that she ought to be carried to bed again, and have care taken of her; and so car|ried her up stairs; and then went to finish their search, while the good old woman and her daughter undressed her, got her to bed, and sat up with her all that night.

After all was finished, the old man willing to know what quantity of men he had lost, calls a gen|eral muster; and, finding Tom missing, wondered where he was got to, asking if he lay at home that night: They told him no; but they believed he was gone a sweethearting. A sweethearting! says the old fellow, well, let him be there always; for he shall never come hither again: How do I know but he has sent the thieves to rob me, or that he is one of them himself? If he ever comes hither, I will turn him about his business as soon as I see him. But Tom understood better things than to come thither again; for he knew the adventure would be blown, and then he should certainly be discarded with disgrace; so was resolved to make the best of what he had got; went away, and never was heard of again.

Mrs. Quarll, as soon as come to her speech, con|fesses the whole intrigue, and lays the blame upon her husband; saying, he sent her thither to be mur|dered; and now he had his desired end, only that she was the unhappy cause of her own death. The old man, as soon as he knew the matter perfectly, writes to her husband a full account of the whole story; telling him he was in a fair way to lose his wife; and that, if it should so happen, he had no occasion to send for his wife's clothes for she had before lost them; and tells him by what means

Quarll, as soon as he had the letter, was very much troubled at his wife's folly; but resolved, if she re|covered, she should tarry some time without clothes, which he knew would be punishment enough to her pride: So writes back to them, that they should take all possible care to restore her to her health, and likewise to prevent any thing of that kind for the future; telling them, that in a little time he would send her some clothes, and make them amends for their trouble.

Mrs. Quarll, in about a month, began to be up|on the mending hand; which her husband being in|formed of, resolved to make her stay another month without clothes, which he knew would be a ••reater punishment than the other month of sickness. But here he was mistaken; for it was almost three months before she perfectly recovered; who, find|ing before that time, her husband had sent her some fine new clothes, was in a great measure, reconcil|ed to him; and resolved, during her stay here, to be much more easy in her mind than before.

The good people, whom she had often scared with outrageous passion, were very glad to see her calm, and took that opportunity to represent to her the happiness of her condition; being well attended, and as well provided 〈◊〉〈◊〉 all necessaries, free from that subjection she might be under, if with her hus|band, whose cross and ill humours she would be ob|liged to bear with; besides twenty other vexations incumbent to a married life, from which she was s••r••ened by his being from her.

The old woman's wise remonstrances, being back|ed with the sudden arrival of a fresh supply of sev|eral sorts of choice drams, as also the ensuing quar|ter's money for her board, and the season rendering the cou••try extremely agreeable, made her patient|ly

submit to continue there till the fall of the leaf; against which time she would contrive some way or other to go, if her husband did not come for her.

But Quarll, who ever since her being in the coun|try, had enjoyed the uncontrouled pleasures of a single life, having no mind to interrupt them by her presence, took care to secure her there; sending her guardians now and then fresh charge to be watchful over her, and a small present to encourage them to it.

But surly fate, who ever was averse to his happi|ness, suggests a new interruption thereto. Quarll having given over house-keeping, happened to come and live at a mantua-maker's of vast business, and reputed worth money. She was a single woman, pretty handsome, but intolerable proud and con|ceited, which was the cause of her being still un|married, thinking herself too good for any trades|man, or any thing below a gentleman; which see|ing no prospect to get, being courted by none, she became a general man hater: But Quarll, who was a handsome young man, and of a genteel employ, though not a gentleman, coming to lodge at her house, reconciled her to the sex in a little time, and made her change her resolution never to marry, heartily wishing he would court her: Therefore, by her more than common attendance for a lodger, did all she could to give him invitation, but all to little success; for Quarll, who had been already twice incumbered in the troublesome state of mat|rimony, and but lately rid of his last plague, had no mind to venture any more; so did not answer her expectation; but her love increasing daily, without being taken notice of, she was obliged to declare it to an old gentlewoman, who lodged in the next room to him; who having doubtless been in the

same condition, was, by experience, capable to give her advice.

The old gentlewoman (as it is peculiar to them, when past the sport themselves, to love to promote it in others) took upon her the management of that affair; and from that time watched the opportunity of speaking to him, which was only in the morn|ing before he went out, or at night when he came home, being abroad all the day beside: So, having resolved upon it, the next morning she leaves her own door open, which was opposite to his, waiting his coming out, to invite him to a dish of chocolate, which she had ready for that purpose.

Having, according to her desire, got him into her chamber, as he was drinking his dish, she feigns a fit of laughing. You wonder, said she, what it is I thus laugh at; but, I dare say, you'll laugh as well as I, when you know: Why, our man-hater is in love at last; in love up to her ears, as sure as you are alive. Our man-hater, madam! says he; who is that? Don't you know? replied she; why, our landlady, who has refused so many fine offers: Lord, how happily might that woman have marri|ed! she might have ••ode in her coach years ago; but no man was good enough for madam: This had such a fault, and that another: In short, none could please her: 'Tis true, indeed, she is very de|serving: The worst part of her is in the sight, and that you know is not disagreeable; but did you see what a fine body she has, you would be ready to run mad for her: Surely she has the finest leg and foot that ever woman went on; and, for a skin, she may challenge the whole sex: In short, she is fit for a king's embraces. She has several good prop|erties besides; and one above all, which perhaps you'll say is the principal; she has money, and a

great deal: Well, that will soon be disposed of, I dare say; I wish I knew on whom: Sure it must be some angel; for I have heard her find fault with very handsome men that have addressed her. Pray did you ever observe any man come here: He must be the person; for all her concerns are with women. Indeed, replied Quarll, I never take notice who comes: Besides, I am seldom at home; so have not an opportunity to make observations. But I have, said she; and made my business to mind; yet never saw any man in this house since I came, but you: Suppose you should be he at last? O madam, there is no danger, answered Quarll; she, who has refu|sed so many rich matches, will hardly set her mind on a poor singing-master. How do you know that? replied the old lady: Love comes by fancy, and marriage by fate, and it may be yours to have her: So I would have you cultivate her love, which I could almost swear you possess; you will find it worth your while: Here is an agreeable woman in an extraordinary good business, a house well furnish|ed, and I'll warrant money bags, well filled: Now, if you are disposed to make your fortune, here is a fair opportunity. Quarll was sadly puzzled what answer to make. His present circumstances prompts him to soothe what his condition obliges him to de|ny: His business slackens, and his charges no wise lessen: His income is dubious, and expences cer|tain: the most prevailing arguments to embrace the offer: But then a strong obstacle starts up; a wife: But she is out of the way, and as good as dead, whilst her living is paid for, which this proposed marriage will enable him to do, though other busi|ness failed. That objection being removed, his an|swer was, he feared that happiness would be above his aspiring to; which being according to the me|diatress's

wish, she promised him her assistance. So he took his leave, and went about his daily affairs, leaving the management of that to her; who imme|diately went to inform the amorous landlady of her success.

Quarll being returned at night, the old lady pur|suant to the business she had taken in hand, follows him to his chamber, with the joyful news, that she had, by her landlady's blushing, discovered what her modesty would have concealed; that he was the man beloved; and, therefore, she would not have him delay his being made happy: To which he an|swered, as she had been the first cause of his happi|ness, he left the accomplishment thereof to her di|rection. Well, then, said she, if I have the order|ing of it, it shall be done next Sunday, as being, of all the week the most blessed day. And so bid him good night.

The old gentlewoman, being made sole directress of that affair, was very diligent in the accomplish|ment thereof; so had them married on the day she had proposed. The business was done privately, but the joy it produced could not be concealed: Every body read bride in the new married wife's face; so that the greetings daily filled the house; which, for a month, was a residence for mirth; and, during the space of a year, the seat of happiness; peace kept the door, and plenty attended them. But churlish fate, which ever persecuted him, would not permit that happy state to continue; and, the more to aggravate his loss, makes love, the chief author of his bliss, now the principal instrument of his sorrow; jealousy, the greatest plague that can befal a married life, infects his wife. She is upon thorns whilst he is absent, and uneasy when present, with the fears of what he had done abroad: A dis|contented

mind often urges the utterance of vexa|tious words, and breeds jarrings, enemies to peace; which, being often disturbed, leaves her abode, which is immediately taken up by strife, and is commonly attended with ruin, the decreed influ|ence of poor Quarll's surly fate. Business falling off from both their hands, makes them negligent of the little they have. The husband diverts his cares abroad, whilst the wife drinks away her sorrow at home. Thus money growing scant, credit must be pledged; which, being not redeemed, exposes the owner to disgrace, which is commonly the poor man's lot.

The mercer and silkman, with whom his wife dealt before she was married, having received mo|ney but once since her marriage, and seeing her discontent, imagined her husband (who appeared something too airy for one of her sedate years) was the occasion thereof, by his extravagant spending what she, with much care and frugality, had saved, arrested him, without giving him notice; lest, being warned, he should get away what she might have left, and then abscond.

Quarll, who till then had kept secret his being in the guards, where he continued, to screen him from those debts his eloped wife might contract, is now obliged to let it be known, to keep himself out of goal.

His proud wife, who thought men of the best and genteelest trades inferior to her merits, seeing her|self at last married to one, whose station was looked upon to be as odious as that of a common bailiff, sell into such a passion that it cast her into a violent fit; from which being recovered, she flies out of the house in a great fury, swearing by all that was good, she would no more live with a foot soldier; so left

him in a sad confusion: Yet he staid in the house, hoping she would, when cooler, consider of it, and be reconciled.

But great was his surprise, when next morning, instead of his wife's coming according to expecta|tion, a judgment is served upon the goods of the house, at the suit of an upholsterer; so the house being entirely unfurnished, he was obliged to seek new lodgings, where he continued a full quarter without hearing of his wife.

Quarll, hoping his wife had left him in good earnest, indulges himself with the thoughts of being a third time delivered from the greatest incum|brance that can involve a man; wondering how he could so often fall into the same snare: Three wives, said he, in three years! and every one equal plagues, though of a different nature! The first a whore, of whom I was most luckily rid by accident: The second a proud, lazy, indolent creature; she by a stratagem is secured: And the third a con|ceited jealous wretch; to her ostentation I owe my deliverance. Well, now, I am once more free, I'll take care how I hamper myself again: So makes a strong resolution, let what would happen, to live single from that time ever after.

But his resolution, though ever so strong, cannot avert fate's irrevocable decree: A fourth wife is al|lotted him, which will bring upon him more vexa|tion and trouble, than he has yet gone through; his peace will not only be broken, and his ease disturb|ed, but his life must be in jeopardy.

One evening that he was diverting his colonel, and the rest of his club, with singing at the tavern, as he usually did once a week, the landlady who was then in company, much praised his voice and skill: The gentlemen took that opportunity to pro|pose

a march between Quarll, who went for a bach|elor, and her, being a widow: All the company lik|ed the proposal, and earnestly urged on the match.

Quarll, being a brisk, handsome, genteel young man, which qualifications have a vast ascendancy upon the sex, especially on widows, made a consid|erable impression upon the hostess; who, being al|ready above forty, was willing to intermix her su|pernumerary years with those of an husband of a lesser age: So, turning to jest what she heartily wished to be in earnest▪ answers, in a joking man|ner, that Mr. Quarll doubtless had▪ before that time, made a better choice; so would hardly agree to their proposal. A better choice! said the gentle|man, I deny that: Here•••• a handsome jolly woman, a noble house well accustomed, a cellar well stock|ed with good wine, and bags, doubtless well filled with money: I say he cannot make a better choice, nor shall he make any other; so here's to its good success: Thus he drinks to her, who, in a joking way, puts it about. The glass having been round, Now, Mr. Quarll, said the Colonel, let us have a love song to conclude the matter.

Quarll, who thought the gentleman had been but in jest, in his heart wished it could turn to earnest. The notion of a good establishment, and prospect of a considerable advantage, having blanched over those great obstacles his present low circumstances, and elevated condition, made him overlook, he did all he could to forward what had been proposed: So having, according to request, given the landla|dy a love-song, he goes and salutes her with an hearty kiss; who, smiling, asked him, whether he thought she was to be purchased with a song? To which he replied, the song was only to express the thoughts of his heart, which he offered to purchase

her love. Indeed, said she, in a pleasant manner, I do not know what your thoughts may be, but I never heard more agreeable expressions. Well then, widow, said these gentlemen, you cannot, in gratitude and good manners, but answer them kind|ly. Indeed gentlemen, said she, I can say no more, but they are mighty pretty words, and charmingly sung. Well then, replied the colonel, I'll say the rest for you. The lover having expressed his pas|sion in such soft terms, and engaging a way, you cannot, without doing violence to your good nature, deny him what he requests in so melting a manner, nor shall I say the word which was confirmed by all the company. To which she making no answer, it was taken for granted. So the marriage being concluded on, the next day was fixed upon for the performance thereof; being resolved not to adjourn till it was over, they bespoke a splended supper, and so spent the night merrily.

The wedding was kept all the week, during which time, every gentleman was profuse in his expences, for an encouragement to the new-married couple, whose trade increased daily.

Their prosperous beginning seemed to promise an happy life, living in love and peace at home, and being in good repute and credit abroad; but the same fate, which all along haunted poor Quarll, is still at his heels: His bliss was but a blast. His eloped wife unfortunately happened to go by as he was going out: She had him immediately in her eye, which as speedily conveyed him to her heart: The addition which a charming new suit of clothes, he then had on, made to his natural handsomeness, put out of her mind the cause of that disdain she had conceived for him, and turns it into a more passion|ate love than ever: She cannot live any longer

from him she must have him with her at any rate, and will not rest till she finds out his lodgings; from whence she resolves to wash all sorrow away with her tears, and settle him again in her arms. So she straight goes to the tavern she saw him come out of, supposing it might be a house he constantly used, on purpose to enquire where he lodged.

The new wife, who was then in the bar, to whom she applied, perceiving in her some sort of disorder, was very inquisitive to know her business; in which the poor woman refusing to satisfy her, she told her that he lived there, and that she was his wife; and therefore the fittest to know her concern. At these most dreadful words, she falls, like one thunder|struck, on the ground, deprived of all her senses; and, for a considerable time, lies as though bereft of life.

This dull scene turns the new wife's passion into commiseration; and she pities that misfortune which in her mind she before condemned as a crime. This, said she, is a true sign of love, which a harlot is not capable of: I cannot blame her for loving him, but rather condole her misfortune. So, having ordered fair water and hartshorn drops to be brought, gave her some in a glass of water, which in a small time fetched her a little to life; who, recovering, cried out, had I not been so bewitched as to go from him, he would not have left me. These words in a mo|ment turned the officious condoler into a revenge|ful rival, who immediately imagined she had lately lived with him as a mistress, and doubtless, would endeavour to do the same again: So, giving her hand (which she kindly held before) a scornful toss from her, why, you vile woman, said she, would you have him to live for ever in whoredom? You judge me wrong, madam, replied the poor afflicted

woman; I am his lawful wife: So, produced her certificate (which she happened to have about her;) which caused almost as much disorder in the be|holder, as she herself was lately in.

Having recovered her speech, which the late sur|prise had obstructed, she asked her, in a violent pas|sion, why she had been so base as to give him the opportunity to come, and cheat her, by her leaving him; for she was his wife also? To which she an|swered, that she could not justify her going from him, though indeed she had great provocation, he not proving the man she took him to be. What! replied she in the bar, was he not man enough for you? I think you are very hard to please: How|ever, since the deceit made you leave him, why do you disturb yourself about him? He has not de|ceived me; unless it be in having a wife before: But as you left him of your own accord, he had no more to do with you. No! replied she, in a pas|sion; but he shall find, and so shall you, that I have to do with him: So went away.

It being then about noon, his usual time to come home from market, she went into a public house opposite to the tavern, there to wait his return, which was a little after. As soon as she saw him, she gave him a call over.

The sudden and unexpected sight of the only ob|stacle to the happiness he then enjoyed, was most terribly shocking to him: He wished he had met with death to have missed her; but to no purpose; She had him in her eye, and was fully resolved to have him in her arms ere she went; and as he did not come as quick at her call as her impatience re|quires, she attempts to go over to him; but Quarll, who knew her fi••ry temper, was afraid she would break out in a passion in the street; which would

have exposed him, and brought it to his new wife's knowledge, being near home: So hastens over to the house, she was in to prevent her coming; and, judging his beginning to upbraid her with her elopement would in some measure, moderate her railing at him, he tells her, as he enters the room, I hope, madam, you have, by this time, found a man more to your mind. This was sufficient to provoke a milder temper to reproach him with his adulterous marriage, of which she was too certain; hers is but a fault, but his a crime: But as re|proaches are not proper means to advance a recon|ciliation, which was her intent, she bridles her pas|sion, and forces her nature to submission; so throws herself at his feet, and falls a weeping; owning she had committed a fault, for which she heartily repent|ed, and promised to atone by her future behaviour; calling heaven to witness her chastity during her most unhappy separation.

Quarll, being of a compassionate temper, was soon made flexible by her tears; So takes her up by the hand, who as soon fell into his arms, unca|pable of speaking for weeping; but Quarll, who was in haste to be gone, being waited for at home, it being about his time of dinner, complied with the poor afflicted woman's crying and sobbing, whose chief request was, that he would only see her home that time; which he presently granted, to be quit of her: So ordered a coach to be called.

His new wife at home, being uneasy at his stay|ing beyond his time, came to the door to look wheth|er she could see him come. At that most unlucky time he was handing his other wife into the coach; which she unfortunately spying, ran over, as swift as a hawk slies after his prey, and pulls him back by the lapper of his coat, as he was stopping

into the coach after her: The disorder this second surprise put him in, obliged him to go again into the house he just came out of, where she immediately followed him, raving and raising as much as the pro|vocation and her passion did allow, leaving in the coach his former wife; who, by that second terrible surprise, was again struck speechless, and like one bereft of sense.

The coachman, having waited some time, being impatient, calls in the house, desiring the gentleman to make haste, or else to allow him for waiting; at which the new wife comes out in a violent passion, and bids him be gone, for he was not wanted. What shall I do with the gentlewoman in my coach? said he; you had best take care of her, she is not well; or tell me where I shall carry her. Carry her to the devil, an you will said she; and so went in. You may carry her there, replied the surly coach|man; you best know the way: So goes to the coach, and shakes her till she came to herself: Then, tak|ing her up in his arms, I am bid to carry you to the devil, said he; but I believe you are able to go yourself; so I'll set you down here, that you may take your own time. Having set her down, he then drives away. There being a millener's shop just by, she goes in, desiring leave to fit a while, till she was able to go. She had scarce been there three mi|nutes, but she sees her husband handing his new wife over, very complaisantly; which so exasperated her, that she fully resolved upon revenge; choosing he should be hanged, rather than her rival should enjoy him: So wem directly, and took out a war|rant, which she immediately served, and had him before a justice of the peace, who committed him forthwith to Newgate.

The following sessions happening to be extraor|dinary great, by the vast number of criminals, his trial and several more were put off till the next; so that he was confined at the time he used to send the money for his wife's board in the country: And, not daring to employ any acquaintance in that af|fair, left they should inquire into the occasion of his sending that money; he desired one, who often came to visit a prisoner, to do him that favour; which he readily promised, but did not perform: So that the people in the country, who were used to be paid a quarter before hand, were a quarter in arrear: Which, with the boarder's pressing impor|tunity to come up to London, made them at last resolve upon it: where being arrived, they imme|diately inquired, after the unfortunate Quarll whose imprisonment they soon heard of, as also of the cause thereof.

This did not a little exasperate the already suffi|ciently provoked inquisitress; who, presently imag|ining, with good reason, that his confining her in the country was merely for that intent, resolved to pros|ecute him according to the utmost rigour of the law; wondering who that good person was that had him apprehended; so went and consulted her friends, who advised her not to let her husband know of her being in town till his trial came on; and then she should know the prosecutor, and, at her own discre|tion, back the prosecution.

The mean time, his first wife, who had lately been dismissed (the knight who kept her being not long since married to a vast fortune) having heard of Quarll's being in Newgate, went straight to visit him. Her grief and his surprise at her coming, stop|ped, for sometime the utterance of both their minds: At last Quarll, who had a just 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 her as

the author of his present misfortune, reproached her with her leaving him, which was the orig|inal cause thereof. The innocent, yet guilty Sally, whose inclination, disposition, and resolution, had been violated, related the dismal account of her fatal ravishment; and pleaded her cause with such a prevailing eloquence, as new kindled his form|er love, and made him (tho' the sufferer) give it on her side.

Being thoroughly reconciled, and having spent some hours in expressing both their griefs, they at last parted, after a thousand cordial embraces; and as she was enabled, by the settlement the knight had made upon her, she supplied him with money and necessaries during his confinement in Newgate; and was with him constantly every day, almost from morning till night; and, when he was called upon his trial, she attended in the court, more concerned than if she herself had been arraigned.

The sessions being commenced, he was first call|ed to the bar: His indictment being read, he desir|ed to be heard by his council; which was granted. The deponent having proved her marriage, requir|ed the prisoner at the bar should be obliged to live with her, or allow her a sufficient maintainance, as being his first wife; at which she whom he kept in the country starts up: That belongs to me, said she; I am the first wife: So produces her certifi|cate. A third wife appearing, startles both the judges, and the prisoner, who thought her secure.

Sally, who till then had been silent, seeing the priority of marriage so much pleaded for, thought it might be worth her while to claim it, being her right, which she may chance to turn to the pris••ner's ad|vantage; so addressing herself to the bench,

My lords, said she, I did not think to apply for jus|tice;

but, seeing these women contending for that which belongs to neither of them, I think myself obliged to claim my right: I am the first wife, and please your lordships.

How! a fourth wife, and indicted but for two! said the judges in a great surprise. Why, my lords, replied an old sur|ly judge upon the bench, if truth be known, he has half a score; I see it in his looks: These smock|faced young fellows are so admired by the women, that they have not power to refuse any thing. Sally, who thought to do the prisoner service, in taking the privilege of first wife into her own hands, find|ing the success of her good intent quite reversed, heartily repented appearing, and would have with|drawn, but that the judges told her she was now be|come the prosecutrix, and was obliged to go on in the prosecution. This caused such a disorder in her, who imagined she should be the unfortunate occa|sion of his being cast, that she was ready to swoon. Quarll's counsel, perceiving her disorder, im|agined it might proceed from a regret of the mischief she had done; so put her in a way to invalidate her deposition: Now, madam, said the counsel, I very much question whether you can make your assertion good: Pray produce your certificate; you can do us no hurt else. Sally, overjoyed to hear that, said, she had none; choosing to undergo the greatest disgrace, rather than he should come to the least hurt. I thought as much, said the counsel. Well, well, replied the surly judge, she may have lost it: Where was you mar|ried, child? At Chatham, my lord, I think, an|swered she, very much discountenanced. At Chat|ham, did you say? replied the counsel; I doubt yours has been a sailor's wedding, over a pot of drink; a man's wife till the next voyage, and any

body's when he is gone. Your lordships see how the case stands. Yes, yes, answered a judge; if she is his first wife that way, I dare say he is not her first husband, by many. So she was hissed out of the court. Then the judge addressing to the next pretender, I hope, says he, your's will not prove a sailor's wedding, as hers did. A sailor's! No, my lord, replied the second wife; I have witnesses enough to mine: My lady Firebrass, with whom I lived, and her two daughters, saw me fairly married in St. Martin's church. How came it, said the judge, you did not sue him before he married the third wife? You should have prevented his cheat|ing any other poor woman. Why, my lord, said she, I knew nothing of it; he kept me a prisoner in the country, at this good woman's house, where he decoyed me, under the pretence of being careful of me: I must go into the country for a month or two, to take the air! but when he had me there, there he kept me ever since, charging the people of the house not to suffer me to come up to London, nor yet to go out; pretending I was mad, because I complained I was not well. A very pretty de|vice! replied the old judge. Yes, my lord, cried out all the women in the court (who were come in great numbers to hear a trial about a rape commit|ted by a Quaker upon a maid of fifty years of age) and a very bad precedent, if not severely punished: Should this be suffered, a poor wife will not dare to be out of order, or complain, in hopes to be made much of, for fear her husband, under colour of giving her the pleasure of the country air, shall when he has got her there, confine her, and so marry whom he pleases at London.

The judges, to quell their clamour, were obliged to call to them, and promise them it should be no

precedent; and that they might be sick at will, and groan at their pleasure, and also accept of their hus|band's kindnesses when offered.

The court being silenced, the proceedings went on: And several of the judges having been spoken to by some of Quarll's particular friends, who were related to some of them, they were more favourable in their judgment, all but the old surly judge, with whom no interest had been made.

The three wives then present having proved their marriage, the prisoner at the bar was asked, what he had to say in his own defence.

Quarll, who thought his wife in the country was secure from coming against him, not having given his counsel instructions concerning her, was obliged to plead himself: My lords, said he, the first depo|nent against me being run mad, and thereby unfit for human society, I was obliged to think of some retirement for her, as it is necessary for people in her case. Unfit for human society! replied the second wife, in a great fury; and was going on in the same temper, but was bid to be silent, ••••d he to proceed: So, my lords, said he, I ••••oposed the country, as the most pleasant and who some place, as also that which suited her disposition best, being always ambitious to imitate the quality, who com|monly go into the country in the summer; which made her accept the offer: There, my lords, I boarded her with very honest and sufficient people, in a handsome, creditable, and pleasant house: A pleasant house, replied she; a perfect hovel. There, my lords, I provided her every thing she could want or desire, as her landlady here present can justify. His counsel, who, by what he had said, had taken sufficient hints to proceed, took the plea out of his hand, and went on: An't please your

lordship, said he, since by her madness—My mad|ness! said she, interrupting the counsel: I desire, my lords, this good woman (with whom I had lived many years) may be sworn, whether she in all that time, did see or discern the least symptoms of mad|ness in me. Indeed, replied the old woman, I have often seen you in the vapours; but I cannot say I ever saw you, what they say, raving mad, but once. My lord, said the prisoner, I beg this letter, which she sent me a week after she was there, may be read; and then your lordships may judge whether I do her wrong.

Orders being given from the bench, the letter was read. The old woman hearing her house so despised, where a well-bred dog would have run mad, if kept in; and then her husband and herself compared to oxen and cows, was not a little dis|pleased: My house, madam, said the old woman, is not so despicable neither, as that comes to: I am sure there is hardly a better, or more convenient, within ten miles round it. As for the room you lay in, no gentlewoman, in her right senses, but would be contented with, especially in the country; I must be obliged to side with your husband there: And for my husband and me to be reckoned no better than brutes, you have little reason to say so; for no woman can be used with more humanity than you have been; and as for your being con|fined you never were shut up any where, but al|ways had the liberty of walking about our ground; only indeed I would not consent you should trudge to London, as you often did ofter to do.

The old woman having done speaking, Quarll's counsel put it to the bench, whether the prosecutrix ought to be accounted in her right senses. The judges having given their opinion that she was fran|tic,

the old judge being displeased at their answer, asked them, whether a man or woman's being fran|tic (which but few in this town are not, more or less) do impower either to marry again; and if they will allow that, why did he marry a third? The se|cond is not mad. The second, replied the counsel, eloped, my lord, and was from her husband half a year; and it is to be questioned, whether she would have ever come near him, had she not accidental|ly found this opportunity to trouble him. 'Tis a plain case, my lord, said another judge, the prison|er is guilty of the crime he stands indicted for: Yet I don't see but there is room for favour. His con|stitution perhaps may require a woman for the main|tenance of his health, and his inclination is averse against vile women: Besides, my lord, we dont hear that he did cohabit or correspond with more than one at a time; and never sought a supply till he was destitute. In my opinion, my lord, he may be fa|voured a little. The ill-natured judge told them very surlily, that the fact was plain; and that he was tried according to the laws of his country; and must expect to suffer the penalty of those laws. But he could see no room for favour, unless his Ma|jesty would graciously be pleased to shew it to him; and it was entirely out of his own power: So sums up the evidences, and refers it to the jury.

The jury went out accordingly: And, after hav|ing stayed some time, brought in their verdict, Death. Sally, who was just by, no sooner heard the terri|ble news, but fainted away, and was obliged to be carried out of court: The three wives went away, upbraiding and reproaching one another with being the fatal cause of losing their husband, wishing one another never to be relieved by man; and so parted. But Sally, as soon as recovered, went back to the

prisoner again, and stayed with him till the court broke up; and then was allowed a coach to carry him to Newgate, and attended him there all that night.

As soon as the keepers came in the morning he calls for pen, ink, and paper, which was brought him; and wrote the following letter to his colonel:

May it please your honour,

I AM now under the terrible sentence of condemna|tion: I need not tell you upon what account, my case being too well known to the world already; but as you have bestowed so many particular favours upon me hith|erto, this emboldens me once more, in this my extreme necessity, to rely upon your goodness. 'Tis true, my mer|it cannot lay claim to the least mark of your esteem; but 'tis your generosity prompts me to beg my life at your hands, which, if you preserve, shall always be de|voted to your service, by

Your unfortunate humble servant, PHILIP QUARLL.

As soon as he had finished he delivers it to his dear beloved Sally, and desires her to carry the same to his colonel: Sally, joyful to serve him, takes the letter, and away she flies. Being come to the house, she delivers the letter to the colonel; who, having opened and read it, told her, that she might assure him, he would do all that lay in his power to serve him: So Sally, expressing her grat|itude, retired to carry the news to her husband: When she came to the prison she sound him read|ing very seriously, leaning upon his hand, with tears in his eyes: She stood sometime to look at him:

but finding he never stirred his head, nor moved his eyes, she went softly up to him, and spoke to him: He no sooner heard her voice, but he starts, and looks like one just awake from a dream; and then burst into tears, and could not speak a word, which Sally seeing, could not forbear weeping; and fell upon his neck, desiring him with all tenderness to stop the torrent, for she had some joyful news to tell him. What joyful news, says he, can you bring a man under my wretched circumstances? Can any thing elevate his mind whom Heaven itself has contrived to depress? Am not I the very outcast and scorn of Providence? Have not I been unfor|tunate from my infancy? And why will you still add to my misery; 'tis you that now make me wretch|ed: Had you not so compassionately aslisted me in this my dismal calamity with so much tenderness, I then willingly should have left this hateful world, without thinking of you: but why must I make you the wretched partner of my misfortunes? Tis that adds to my uneasiness. O that I had not seen you in these my last moments! Sally, interrupting him, said, come, talk not of last moments; you may yet enjoy many happy years; your colonel has promis|ed to use his utmost endeavours to preserve your life. I do not flatter myself with any thing of that kind, says he, but if such a thing should happen, I am fully resolved not to tarry long in England, which has brought upon me so many dire mishaps.

The colonel was as good as his word; for he loved Quarll extremely well: And therefore, as soon as Sally was gone, he orders his coach to be got ready, and away he posts to my lord Danby, who had a great influence at court at that time, and who was his particular friend. When he came thither, his lordship was no: stirring; so he waited

till he got up; who, as soon as come down, cries out, So colonel, what brings you here so soon? Did you come to breakfast with me? The colonel see|ing him so facetious and pleasant, told him his mes|sage. My lord, as soon as he heard it, answered, that upon his honour, he certainly would grant his request; and made him stay to breakfast with him.

As soon as breakfast was over, he took his leave of his lordship, and away he comes to bring the tidings to Quarll, whom he found alone, Sally hav|ing just left him. The colonel told him, he was sorry to see him there, with other compliments usu|al in such ••••ses; and related to him the success he had with my lord Dauby: So desired him to be of good cheer. Quarll fell at his feet, and expressed his gratitude in the most thankful terms imaginable; telling him, his life should always be at his service. His colonel, raising him up, told him he was very well satisfied; and, after a little more conversation, left him.

Sally, in the mean time, was not idle; for she went and bought a rich piece of plate, and present|ed it to the recorder, that he might favour Quarll in his report to his majesty; which had the desired effect: For, when the death warrant came down, he was excluded, and in a few days after, my lord Danby procured his Majesty's pardon; which his colonel brought him with great joy.

Quarll, being discharged out of Newgate, resol|ved not to tarry long in England; and told his be|loved Sally, that he must now leave her, for he had made a vow not to tarry in Britain. She endeav|oured to dissuade him from his intentions; but, find|ing it to no purpose, desired she might accompany him. He asked her, why she desired to be wretch|ed, telling her, he was doomed to perpetual misery:

But she was resolutely bent to follow him wher|ever he went; and accordingly sold what the knight had settled upon her, in order to carry the money with her.

Quarll hearing of a ship bound for the South Seas, which in her return was to touch at Barba|does, the captain of her having been first mate of the ship to which Quarll had formerly belonged; this encouraged him to venture the voyage. Ac|cordingly, he went to the commander, in order to agree with him about it; The captain, after some talk, began to call to mind their former acquaint|ance, but wondered to see him so much altered as to his condition: Quarll being very handsomely dressed, and his behaviour much better polished than formerly: So desired him to give him an ac|count how this s••••ange alteration had happened, and by what means he came to this good fortune. Good fortune! do you call it? says Quarll; I suppose then you look upon men by their outward appear|ance: But; did you know the world as well as I do, you would judge the contrary. Now, adds he, I ll give you a short account of my past life; and then I'll leave you to say whether I am not rather the perfect scorn and mock of fortune: So related to him his past misfortunes; which Quarll told him in so moving a manner, that it almost drew tears from the captain's eyes. As soon as he had made an end, well, says the captain, I thought that my way of living brought upon me more troubles than land-men are subject to! for, since I saw you, I have been shipwrecked twice; once upon the coast of Guinea, where I lost the ship and cargo and but five men saved; the other time, homeward bound from the East Indies, a violent storm arose, and drove us upon the coast of France, where, with

great difficulty, we cast anchor, in order to resit our ship, which was very much damaged in the late storm: But about twelve o'clock the same night we came thither, a most violent hurricane blew in upon us, broke our cables and drove us ashore; where again I lost the ship and cargo, but all the men saved: Thus I think I have been unfortunate; but since they are past never think of them: We shall have a pleasant voyage; and as you say you have a mind to reside at Barbadoes, where I must touch in my return, I'd have you lay out your mo|ney in the woollen manufacture, and cutlery-ware, which are very good commodities in those parts. Quarll thanked him for his good advice, and parted with him.

Away then he goes to Sally, and told her what he had been doing, and whither he intended to go. Sally answered what was his pleasure should be hers; and that she would be a partner in his fortunes and misfortunes, go whither he would. So Quarll went and bought the goods which the captain advised him to, and sent them on board; and soon after followed with himself and wife.

They had not been long at sea, before his darling Sally fell sick and died, to his inexpressible grief; wishing ••en thousand times he had died with her. He began to be extremely melancholy, took no rest, and would eat no victuals. The captain was afraid that he would die also; and did all he could to di|vert him; but he was a long time before he could bring him to his former temper.

They failed on with a side-wind for the space of a month; though, it changing full in their teeth, and very high withal, obliged them to cast anchor, in order to lie by till the wind did serve; but seeing themselves made upon by a pirate, they were obli|ged

to weigh their anchor, and make the best of their way before the wind, in order to avoid being taken by those infidels, who pursued them from four of the clock on Friday morning, till ten at night the following Sunday; at which time there arose a storm; the sky looked very black, the wind being at north-west, and clouds began to rise and move towards them, having hung all the morn|ing in the horizon: So that they took in their top|sails, and furl'd their main-sail: The sea ran very short, and broke in upon the deck: However, they put right before the wind, and sailed so for three weeks, when they made Cape Horn: They had no sooner got round the Cape, but the wind veered to the south, and it fell flat calm; which continued for two days, when the wind sprung up at south-west, and they scudded before the wind very swift, and made an island whose name none of them knew, the ship having never been on the coast before; but there they found wood, water, and herbs of sev|eral sorts some seals and sea-fowls. Here they re|freshed themselves for four days; and then weighed anchor, the wind being fair at full south, and traded at several ports on the coast of Peru, Chili, and Mexico. From Port Aqapulco they sailed, having a fresh breeze at N. N. E. They had not sailed above one day before the wind veered to the south-west, and blew a violent gale of wind; and there being a great sea, so that their ship took in a great deal of water; the wind continuing two days increas|ing to a very great storm, which held for one day and two nights more; during which time they per|ceived themselves near some rocks. The storm rather increasing, and it growing dark, they despair|ed of saving the ship; and as the main-yard could not lower, the ship's tackling being disordered by

the violence of the storm; Quarll, being bold and active, took a hatchet which tumbled about the deck, and ran up the shrouds, in order to cut down what stopt the working of the main-yard; but, by that time he was got up, there came a sea which dashed the ship to shatters against the rock; and with the violence of the shock, slung Quarll, who was astride upon the main-yard on the top of the rock; where having the good fortune to fall in a clift, he was hindered from being washed back again into the sea, and drowned, as every body were that belonged to the ship.

Quarll, in a dismal condition, remained the suc|ceeding night in the clift, being continually beaten with the dashing back of the sea, and being both bruised and numbed, pulled off his clothes which were dripping wet, and spread them in the sun; and being over-fatigued, lays himself down on the smoothest place of the rock he could find, being quite spent with the hardship he had undergone, and slept while his clothes were drying.

His sleep, though very profound, was not re|freshing: The danger he had been lately in, so ran in his mind, tha•• grim death was ever before his eyes; which constantly disturbed his rest: But na|ture, who wanted repose, would be supplied, though it be broken. Having slept a few hours, he awakes almost as much fatigued as before, and faint for want of nourishment, having taken none for thirty|six hours before: So, having looked upon his clothes, which he perceived were not quite dry, he turned the other side to the sun, and laid himself down to sleep again; but still nothing but horror entered his mind: His soul was continually harrass|ed with the dismal apprehensions the effects of the late storm had impressed upon him. He dreamt he

was in a terrible tempest, and the ship he was in was dashed backwards and forwards through the waves with prodigious violence, the clouds pouring down vast streams of liquid fire, and the raging O|cean all in flames. In this dismal condition he knew not what to do; but 'spying some land, as he thought, at a little distance from the ship, he was endeavouring to get thither; but not daring to trust the sea, which he imagined was like a chaldron of oil in a blaze, resolved to try whether he could not jump ashore: But just as he was going to leap, he saw a horrid frightful monster, with glaring eyes, and open mouth, rush from the boiling flames, and make at him to devour him; which scared him out of his sleep.

When he awoke, he was very much terrified with his dream, and stared about him in a frighted man|ner, expecting every minute some creature to de|vour him; But, taking a little courage, put on his clothes; which by this time were quite dry. He then looks about him; but alas! could see nothing but the dreadful effects of the late tempest, dead corpses, broken planks, and battered chests floating; and such aspects as at once filled him with terror and grief.

Turning from those shocking objects, which pre|sented to his eyes the dreadful death he so lately had escaped, he sees at the other side the prospect of one more terrible, hunger and thirst, attended with all the miseries that can make life burdensome. Being seized with the terror of the threatning evil, he turns again towards the sea, and looking on the dead corpses, which the sea now and then drove to the rock, and back again, Oh! that I was like one of you, said be past all danger! I have shared with you in the terrors of death: Why did I not also

partake with you in its relief? But why should I complain? and have so much reason to be thank|ful! Had I been cut off, when the cares of saving this worthless carcase intercepted me from seeking the salvation of my soul, I should not have had the present opportunity of taking care of it. So, hav|ing returned thanks for his late deliverance, he re|signs himself to Providence, on whom he fully re|lies; climbs up the rock, and being come to the top, sees land at the inside, bearing both trees and grass: Heaven be praised! said he: I shall not perish upon these barren rocks: So made a shift to go down to it, the weather then being calms.

BOOK III.

Account of Quarll's wonderful shifts, and surprising manner of living; of the miraculous acts of Provi|dence, and of the strange events which happened in the island since his being there.

BEING come to the other side of the rock, he finds at the bottom of it a narrow lake, which seperated it from the land: Therefore pulling off his clothes, the water being but shallow, he wades over with them in his arms: and dressing himself, walks up a considerable way in the island, without seeing any human creature, or perceiving any sign of its being inhabited, which struck a great damp to his spirits. He walks it over and over, cross|ways and long-ways; yet could see nothing but monkeys, strange beasts, birds, and fowls, such as he had never seen before.

Having ranged himself weary, he sat down under a cluster of trees that made an agreeable arbour: The place being pleasant and cool, made, as it were, for repose, and he being still very much fa|tigued, prompted him to lie down and sleep; during which, his mind is continually alarmed with the frightful aspect of grim death: Sometimes he fan|cies himself striving with the rolling waves, stretch|ing out his arms to catch hold of a plank tossing by; which just come at is beaten back by the roar|ing billows whose terrible noise pronounces his death; at other times he thinks himself astride upon

a piece of a mast, labouring to keep himself on, and of a sudden wash'd away and sunk down by a bulky wave; on every side of him men calling for help; others spent and past speaking; here some floating that are already parished, and there others expiring; thus in every object seeing his approaching fate.

Being awakened out of that irksome and uneasy sleep, he falls into as anxious and melancholy thoughts, I have, said he, escap'd being drowned, but how shall I avoid starving? Here is no food for man. But why should I despair? Did not Neb|uchadnezzar live upon grass for several years, till restored to his nation? Cannot I do the same for a few days? by which time, Providence, who has hith|erto protected me, may raise me some means to get from hence. So, being intirely resign'd, he walks about to see the island, which he found surrounded with rocks, at the bottom of which there was a small lake, which was fordable in most places, so that he could with ease wade over to the rock; which he did at every side of the island, to see if he could perceive any ship, whereby he might get away: But, seeing none, and it drawing towards night, he re|turns, and employs the remainder of the day in look|ing for the most convenient place for him to pass away the approaching night; and, having fixed up|on one of the highest trees, he gets up as far as he well could, fearing some wild beast might devour him if he slept below; where, having returned thanks to Heaven for his late great deliverance, he commits himself to its care; then settles, and falls to sleep, and slept till hunger waked him in the morning, having dreamt over night of abundance of victuals, which he would fain have come at, but was kept off by a cross cook, who bid him go and fish for some: To which he answer'd, that he was

shipwreck'd; and had nothing to fish withal. Well then, said the cook to him again, go where thou wast like to lose thy life and there thou shalt find where withal to support it.

Being awakened he makes reflections upon his dream, which though he imagined it might pro|ceed from the emptiness of his stomach, being cus|tomary for people to dream of victuals, when they go to bed hungry, yet at that time may prove omni|ous: So, driven by necessity and led by curiosity, he went to the same side of the rock he had been cast upon; where having stood several hours with|out seeing shipping, or aught that might answer his dream; the air coming from the sea being pretty sharp, and he faint, having taken no manner of food for near three days, he gave over all hopes of re|lief. Thus submitting himself to the will of Heav|en, which he supposed decreed a lingering death to punish him for his past sins, he resolves to return where he lay the night before, and there wait for his doom; but being stopped by a sudden noise which issued from a creek in the rock, not far from where he stood, he had she curiosity to go and see what occasioned it.

Being come to the place he heard the noise pro|ceed from, he see a fine large cod fish near six feet-long, dabbling in a hole in the rock, where the late storm had cast it.

One under condemnation of death, and just ar|rived at the place of execution, could not be 〈◊〉〈◊〉 rejoiced at the coming of a reprieve, than he was at the sight of the fish, having felt several sick qualms, fore runners of the death he thought he was doom'd to. Heaven be praised! said he; here's my dream right; where Providence rescued my life from the grim jaws of death, there it has provided me where|withal to support it.

So having taken off both his garters, he gets in|to the hole where the fish lay; and having run them through its gills, he hauls it out, and drags it after him, being heavy, and he very weak.—Going a|long, he finds several oysters, mussels, and cockles, in his way, which the sea had cast up and down the rock; and having a knife about him, he sat down and eat a few; so refreshed himself, his spirits being exhausted for want of food. This small nutriment very much recruited his decaved strength, and the thoughts of his supply of provision having dispersed the dull ideas his late want had bred in his mind, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 cheerfully takes his fish, which he drags with much more vigour than before; and filling his pock|ets with salt that was congealed by the sun which ••e found in the concavities of the rock, away he goes to the place, where he lay the night before, in order to dress some of the cod fish; where being come he picks up a parcel of dry leaves, and with his knife, and a flint, struck fire, and kindled them: Then, getting together a few sticks, made a fire presently, and broiled a slice of his fish; of which he 〈◊〉〈◊〉 so heartily, that it overcame his stomack, be|ing grown weak with fasting: Thus sick, and out of order. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 applies to the helpless recourse, which was lying down; and having much fatigued and har|rassed himself with hauling the heavy fish up and down the rock, be fell asleep until the next morn|ing; during which time his rest was very much dis|turbed with the frightful dream of being attacked by a terrible monster, such as never was heard of, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 for bigness ••r grimness; which pursued him 〈◊〉〈◊〉 having run himself out of breath, he was forced to lie exposed to his 〈◊〉〈◊〉; but was preve••••ed be|ing devoured by a grave old gentlewoman of a most graceful and majestic countenance, at whose sudden

appearance the monster fled. Having recovered breath, and strength to speak, he returns the old la|dy thanks for his deliverance, and begs leave to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 on her home, that he might know 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to come and pay his constant duty to her for this her late great kindness: To which she answered, that she was fixed in no particular habitation, but dwelt at every poor man's house; her occupation being to assist the helpless, but not the slothful and negli|gent: That he should see her again before it was long. Mean time, she bid him not go on in evil ways, but whenever overtaken, not to despair, for she was always at hand. Nevertheless, she would not have him too depending, and so went away, leav|ing him very easy and pleased in his mind that he had escaped such vast danger.

Having slept quietly the remainder of the night he awoke in the morning pretty fresh and hearty, but very much disturbed at his late dream, which he feared presaged and prognosticated some approach|ing evil; but as he could make no comparative al|lusion of the old lady, who rescued him from the monster, he concludes it must be an inspiration of Providence (whom the grave old lady did person|ate in the dream) who lately had preserved him from a death, by all appearance unavoidable, to keep him from despair in this his great extremity, promis|ing to be at hand upon occasion; yet would not have him neglect the means to get away from a place where want threatens him. For tho' he might for a while subsist upon fish, wherewith he might be supplied, being surrounded by the sea; yet he could not imagine which way he could be furnished with clothes and bed against the winter; for want of which he must miserably perish with cold, unless supplied by some such dismal accident as exposed

him to the want thereof, which he heartily wishes and prays may never happen.

Having made these considerations, he, on his knees, returns kind Providence his hearty thanks for all his mercies that had been extended to him; begging the continuance of its assistance. Then, as he took directions from his dream, watching the op|portunity of getting away from that melancholy place, he goes to the other side of the rock, to try if he could perceive any shipping in sight.

The wind, being pretty high, fed his hopes, that each succeeding hour would gratify his wishing look with that object the preceding could not bring forth; but was disappointed. The night approaching, kept back all probability for that time; however, depend|ing on better success the next day, he returns whence he came; and being hungry, makes a fire, and broils another slice of the fish, then lays the rest up|on broad green leaves, and strews salt thereon to keep it from spoiling, and then goes to rest; and as he lay undisturbed the night before under the trees, and much more easy than at top, he ventured again, committing himself to the care of Providence.

But his thoughts, which all day had been disturb|ed with the dread of those hardships he must prob|ably undergo, if obliged to continue there all win|ter, so ran in his mind, that they occasioned ideas suitable to those he had formed the day before; and cold being the greatest of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 fears, it is also the principal subject of his dream; which presented to his imagination, that he was in a spacious place, paved with hail stones of a prodigious bigness, and surrounded with high mountains of ice, which echo|ed with shivers: At the farther end thereof he saw an old man resembling Time, as he is commonly painted, with heaps of show and had about him. and

himself very busy with making more: At his side stood a very beautiful woman, whose shape and make was uncommon, and her features and com|plexion extraordinary; but what surprised him most, was her having three pair of breasts, wonderfully handsome, and curiously placed, which seemed to adorn her bosom far more than the richest stomach|er made of diamonds or pearls could do; so that what in other women would look monstrous, was in her an addition to her matchless beauty.

The sight of that most perfect and complete wo|man warmed his blood, which the coldness of the place had chilled, and tempted him to come nearer the charmer. As he advanced, every step he made seemed to add strength to his limbs, and vigour to his life; which made him desirous to come nearer to the person from whom he received such benefi|cial effluvia; but was suddenly stopped by the old man's turning towards him with a grim and surly countenance, which threatened his nearer approach with evil.

Not daring to come nearer, he stands still, won|dering what business that most charming creature could have with that surly, morose old fellow; when listening a while he perceived she was asking boons of him in the behalf of a vast number of all sorts of creatures that attended her at some distance behind, which he refused in a most churlish manner; and as she still persisted in her suit, following him up and down, the ill natured old man slily steps to the frosty mountain, and pulls down a large clod of ice, which stopped a gap therein, from whence came out a creature, made and featured like a man, but of a monstrous size, and frightful aspect; his excessive broad cheeks hanging down on each side of his long picked chin, like two empty bladders! and his pre|posterous

belly hung down looking just like a sail without wind. That monster was no sooner out, but he had orders, from the spiteful old man to drive away the woman, and all her attendants; which word of command was no sooner given, but it was put in execution. Having filled his shrivelled jaws with wind, which then stood out like so many kettle drums, he sails a blowing upon one of the hills of snow, and turns it into a thick shower, which he drove with violence against that angel-like creature, and her 〈◊〉〈◊〉, who immediately fled for shelter.

This barbarous treatment to the most deserving of creatures put him in a maze; to whom the angry old man (seeing he did not go with the rest) came in a fury, saying, Dost thou put me in defiance? I'll bury thee in that which I only shrewed over the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and went to lay bold of him: which caused him to awake in a wonderful fright.

Being risen, he made reflections upon the late dreams: All my dreams, said he, have ever proved ominous and, if I mistake not, this must have some signification: Certainly this old man is time, laying up a store of frost and snow against next winter and that goodly woman is Nature, who being ten|der over all her creatures, interceded for modera|tion: And his surly refusal, and rough usage prog|nosticate a forward and hard winter, to whose se|verity I must lie exposed, being altogether unpro|vided.

These reflections bred various melancholy thoughts, which almost led him to despair, Oh said he, that I was a mouse, bat, or a yet mean|er creature! Then should I 〈◊〉〈◊〉 below the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 persecutions of fate. But m••n, who was created the noblest form, endued with reason and under standing, animated with an immorial soul, must be

aimed at as the only mark worthy its malignant darts! But why do I thus rave at those evils we are the authors of? Had man continued in his original state of innocence the very name of fate or fortune would not have been known. Well, since this is the product of sin, I accept this black lot as justly coming to my share; and humbly submitting to Heaven's decree, I thankfully take this dream as a timely warning; and, in imitation of those crea|tures represented in it, I'll provide what shelter I can against bad weather comes.

Accordingly, first he begins to think of making himself an house to preserve him from the injuries of the weather; but having nothing to make it of, nor any instrument but a knife, which could be of little service to him, he resolves to go to that part of the rock where he was shipwrecked, to fee if he could discover any thing among the wreck that would be serviceable to him; and therefore takes a branch of a tree along with him, and, coming to the place, he strips himself, and goes into the water (the water being low, discovering the points of several sharp pointed rocks) and gropes along with his staff for sure footing, wading as high as his chin, diving to the bottom frequently, and feeling about with his hands. This he continued doing for almost two hours, but to no purpose, not daring to go out of his depth; for he well knew that he could do little good there, because, he could discover no part of the ship, not so much as the mast or any of the rig|ging, but fancied she lay in some deep hole, where it was impossible to get at her.

Thus despairing, and fretting and teazing himself, he calls to mind that he had a hatchet in his hand when he was cast away, and thought probably it might lie in that clift of the rock into which he wan

thrown; thither he went, and looking about, per|ceived something like the handle of a hatchet just above the surface of the water at the bottom of the rock; and, going down to it, took it up; which, to his great joy, proved to be the very thing he wanted.

Having got his tool; he dresses himself, and goes on to the island again, intending to cut down some trees to make himself a hut. Looking about, the re|fore, for the properest plants, and taking notice of a sort of trees, whose branches, bending to the ground, took root, and became a plant, he thought they might be the fittest for this purpose, and cut a sufficient parcel of them to make his barrack; which was full business for him that day.

The next morning, having paid his usual devo|tion, he walks out again to look for a pleasant and convenient place to make his hut or bar|rack upon: He walked several hours, and could find none more sheltered from the cold winds than that where he already lay, being in the middle of the island, well fenced on the north and east sides with trees, which stood very thick: The place being fixed upon, he hews down some trees that grew in his way, and clears a spot of ground about twelve feet square, leaving one tree standing at each corn|er; and, with the young plants he provided the day before, filled the distance between quite round, set|ting them about six inches asunder, leaving a larger vacancy for the door: His inclosure being made, he bends the branches at top from both sides, and weaves them cross one another, making a cover to it; which being something too thin, he laid other branches over, till they were grown thicker: Hav|ing finished the top, he goes about closing the sides; for which purpose, taking large branches, he strips 〈◊〉〈◊〉 their small twigs, and weaves them between the

plants as they do for sheep pens; then made a door after the same manner.

His barrack being finished, which took him up fifteen days hard work: Now, said he, here is a house, but where is the furniture? This, indeed, may keep the weather from me, but not the cold. The ground on which I do and must lie, is hard, and doubtless, in the winter, will grow damp; which, with want of covering, may occasion agues and fe|vers, the cholic and rheumatism, and twenty racking distempers, which may cause me to repent my hav|ing escaped a milder death.

In this great consternation and perplexity, he goes to see if he could spy any shipping riding with|in sight of the island: As he was walking along, full of heavy and dull thoughts, which weighed his looks to the ground, he happened to find a sort of high grass that grows but here and there, round some particular sort of trees, of which he never took notice before. Heaven be praised! said he, I have found wherewithal to keep my poor body from the ground, whilst I am, by Providence doomed to re|main here: So passes on, intending at his return to cut down a sufficient quantity of it to make mats that might serve him instead of bed and bed clothes.

Having looked himself almost blind, without see|ing the least prospect of what he desired, he con|cludes upon going to cut the grass which he stood in such want of, and spread it to dry, whilst the weather was yet warm: That piece of work kept him employed the remainder of the day, and best part of the succeeding evening, having nothing but a pocket-knife to cut withal. That work being done, wanting a tool to spread and turn his grass, he takes a branch off the next tree, which having stript of all the small ones about it, all but part of

that at the top, being forky, made a tolerable fork: Thus being equipped for hay-making, he went on with his work; and as he was at it, he saw, at some distance, several monkeys as busy as himself, scratch|ing something out of the ground, which they did eat upon the spot, and carried the rest to their home.

He hopes that those roots might be for his use, those creatures being naturally dainty, eating noth|ing but what men may, made him hasten to the place he saw them scratching at, that by the herb they bear (which they tore off) he might find out the root.

Having, by the leaves which he picked off the ground, found some of the same, he digs them up, and carried them to his barrack, where he broiled a slice of his fish, and in the ashes roasted them, which eat something like chesnuts done in the same manner.

This new found out eatable much rejoicing him, he returned his hearty thanks to kind Providence, that he had put him in a way to provide himself with bread, and that of a most delicious kind. As soon therefore as he had dined, he went out on pur|pose to dig up a good quantity: but, as he was go|ing to the place where he had taken notice they grew pretty thick, he sees a tortoise of about a foot over, crawling before him: Heaven be praised! said he, here is what will supply me both with vic|tuals and utensils to dress it in: He ran therefore, and turned it on its back, to keep it from getting away, whilst he went for his hatchet, that he might cut the bottom shell from the top, in order to make a kettle of the deepest, and a dish of the flat part.

Being tired of cod fish, he dresses the tortoise, an animal seldom eaten but upon extremity, the flesh thereof often giving the flux; nevertheless he ven|tured

upon it, and liked it extremely, some part of it eating very much like veal; which at that time was a very great novelty to him, having eaten no fresh meat for a long time before.

Happening to eat of that part of the tortoise which is the most feeding and less hurtful, he was in no wise discomposed: but, having boiled it all, he laid by the remainder to eat now and then be|tween his fish.

Being provided with a boiling utensil, he often had change, by means of those admirable roots so luckily discovered; some of which he roasted for bread, others he boiled with salt cod: This in a great measure mitigated his misfortune, and soften|ed the hardship he lay under; so that, seeing but little prospect of changing his present condition, by getting away from thence yet a while, he thinks on means to make it as easy as possible whilst he re|mained in it; for, having projected a bed, and tak|ing the grass, which by that time was dry, he falls to work; and a mat being the thing concluded upon, he twists his hay into ropes, the bigness of his leg; then he cuts a pretty number of sticks, about two feet long, which he drives into the ground, ten in a row, and near four inches asunder, and opposite to them such another row at six or seven feet distance from the first, which made the length of his mat; then having fastened one end of his rope to one of the corner sticks, he brings it round the other corn|er stick, and so to the next at the other end, till he has laid his frame: Then he weaves across shorter ropes of the same, in the manner they make palli|ons on board with old cable ends. When he had finished his mat, he heat it with a long stick, which made it swell up; and the grass being of a soft cot|tony nature, he had a warm and easy bed to lie on.

The comfort and pleasure he found on his soft mat, (being grown sore with lying on the ground for the space of a month or more) so liberally gratified him for the time and labour he had bestowed in making it, that it gave him encouragement to go about another; a covering being the next necessary wanted; for though the weather was, as yet, pretty warm, and he, in a great measure, seasoned by the hardship he had gone through; yet the winter ap|proaching, and the present season still favourable for him to make provision against it, he goes and cuts more grass; which being made ready for use, he lengthens his loom, to allow for rolling up at one end, instead of a bolster, and makes it thicker than the first; which he intends, in cold weather, shall lie upon him instead of blankets.

Being provided with the most necessary furniture he wanted, he thinks on more conveniences, resolv|ing to make himself a table to eat his victuals upon, and a chair to sit on: Thus having cut several sticks about four feet long, he drives them in a row a little way in the ground; then takes smaller, which he interweaves between: Having made the top, he sets it upon four other sticks, forky at the upper end, which he stuck in the ground at one side of his barrack, to the height of a table; this being done, he cuts four more branches, such as judged would do best for the seat and back of a chair, which he also drove in the ground near his table; and having twisted the branches which grew to them, with each other, from back to front, and across a|gain, he weaves smaller in between, bottoming his seat; which completes the furniture of his habita|tion.

That care being over, another succeeds, of a far greater moment: Here is a dwelling, said he, to

shelter me from the weather, and a bed to rest this poor body of mine; but where is food to support it? Here have I subsisted near one month upon a fish, which the same dreadful storm, that took away forty lives, sent me to maintain my own. Well, since kind Providence has been pleased to preserve my life preferable to so many, who fatally perished in that dismal accident, I am bound, in gratitude, to hold it precious; and since my fish is almost gone, and I am not certain of more, I must by de|grees bring myself to live upon roots which I hope will never be wanting, being the natural product of this island: So I must eat of the small remnant of fish, but now and then, to make it hold out longer, Dainties or plenty were not allotted for him that was doomed to slavery, but labour and hard living; and, if I meet here the latter, Heaven be praised, I have escaped the worse; I can take my rest, and stand in no dread of any severe inspector or task master.

Now being entirely reconciled to the state of life, Providence, on whom he fully depended, had been pleased to call him to, he resolves to make provision of those excellent roots; and with his hatchet he cuts a piece of a tree, wherewith he makes a shovel, in order to dig them up with more ease: With this instrument he went to the place where he had observed they grew thickest, which being near the monkeys quarters, they came down from off the trees in great numbers grinning as if they would have flown at him; which made him stop a while: He might indeed, with the instru|ment in his hand, have killed several, and perhaps dispersed the rest; but would not: Why, said he, should I add barbarity to injustice? It is but nat|ural and reasonable for every creature to guard and desend their own: This was given them by Nature

for food, which I am come to rob them of; and since I am obliged to get of them for my subsist|ence, if I am decreed to be here another season, I will set some in a place distant from theirs for my own use.

Having stood still a considerable time, those an|imals, seeing he did not go forward, each went and scratched up for itself, afterwards retiring; giving him the opportunity to dig up a few for himself: And as he was not come to the place where they grew thick, he laid them in small heaps as he dug them up; while those fly creatures would, whilst he was digging up more, come down from the trees where they stood hid among the leaves, and steal them away; which obliged him to be contented for that time with as many as his pockets would hold, resolving to bring something next time which would contain a larger quantity; and fearing those ani|mals, which are naturally very cunning, should dig them up and hide them, he comes early the morning following to make his provision; and for want of a sack to put them in, he takes his jacket, which he buttons up, and ties at the sleeves; and as he had observed, that every root had abundance of little off sets hanging at it by small fibres, he pul|led off his shirt also, of which he makes another sack to put them in.

Being naked all but his breeches, and the day being pretty hot, he thought he had as good pull them off too, and fill them, his jacket being but short and therefore holding but few: Taking, therefore, his bundle in one arm, and having the shovel in the other hand, he goes to the place he intended to do the day before; and expecting to find the same opposition as he did then he brought with him some of the roots he had dug up 〈◊〉〈◊〉 pre|ceding

day, in order to throw them amongst those animals, and so quiet them: But to his great won|der, and as great satisfaction, those creatures which the time before had opposed him with noise, and offensive motions, let him now pass by quietly, without offering to meddle with any when dug up, though he had laid them up by heaps in their way, and stood at a considerable distance from them.

This surprising reverence from those creatures, set him upon deep reflections on what could be the cause thereof; whether it might not proceed from the proximity of their shape and his: But, then, said he, my stature and colour of skin is so differ|ent from theirs, that they cannot but distinguish I am not of their kind; No, it must be a remnant of that awe, entailed by Nature upon all animals, to that most noble and complete master-piece of the creation, called Man, which, now appearing in the state he was first created in, and undisguised by clothes, renew an image of that respect he has for|feited by his fatal transgression, which ever since obliged him to hide the beauty of his fabric under a gaudy disguise, which often renders him ridicu|lous to the rest of mankind, and generally obnox|ious to all other creatures; making a pride of what he ought to be ashamed of: Well, adds he, since my clothes, bred the antipathy, I will remove that cause, which will suit both the nature of those ani|mals, and my own circumstances. From that time he resolves to go naked, till the hardness of the weather obliged him to put something on.

Having picked up a sufficient quantity of off-sets to stock about two acres of land, he returns home, leaving behind him a considerable number of roots dug up for those poor animals, which attended him all the time he was at work, without offering to touch one till he was gone.

Being come home, he fixes on a spot of ground near his habitation, and digs it up as well as he could with his wooden instrument, in order to sow his feed: which having compassed in about twenty days, he implores a blessing upon his labour, and leaves it to time to bring it forth. Thus having fin|ished the most necessar y work about his barrack, he resolves to take a more particular view of the island, which till then he had not time to do; and taking a long staff in his hand, he walks to the lake, which parts the land from the rock, and goes along the side of it, quite round the island, finding all the way new subjects of admiration: On the left-hand stood a rampart made of one solid stone, adorned by nature with various forms and shapes, beyond the power of art to imitate; some parts challenging a likeness to a city, and clusters of houses, with here and there a high steeple standing above the other buildings; another place claiming a near re|semblance to a distant squadron of men of war in a line of battle: Further, it bears comparison with the dull remains of some sumptuous edifice, ruined by the often repeated shocks of time, inciting the beholders to condolence for the loss of its former beauty. At some distance from thence the prospect of a demolished city is presented to the sight; in another place large stones like small mountains, laid, as it were, a top of one another, impress the mind with an idea of the tower of Babel; and on the right hand a most pleasant land covered with beautiful green grass, like chamomile, and here and there a culster of trees, composing most agreeable groves, amongst a vast number of fine lofty trees of divers heights and shapes, which stood more dis|tant, whose irregularity added much to the delight|fulness of the place.

As he was walking on, admiring all these won|derful works of nature, having caught cold, (not being used to go naked) he happened to sneeze op|posite to a place in the rock, which hollowed in af|ter the manner of the inside of some cathedral, and was answered by a multitude of different voices is|suing from that place: The agreeableness of the surprise induced him to rouse those echoes a second time, by giving a loud hem: which was like sneez|ing, repeated in different tones, but all very harmo|nious: Again he hem'd and was so delighted with the repetition, that he could have spent hours in the hearing of it: But why should I, said he, waste those melodious sounds, so fit to relate the Almigh|ty's wonderful works, and set forth his praise? Im|mediately he sung several psalms and hymns, with as much emulation and devotion, as if he had been in company with numbers of skilful and celebrated choristers.

Having spent a considerable time there with much pleasure, he proceeds in his walk, being resolved to make that his place of worship for the future, and attend it twice a day constantly.

About three or four hundred paces farther, hav|ing turned on the other side of a jetting-out part of the rock, he was stopt a second time by another surprising product of nature; a large stone, growing out of the rock, advancing quite over the lake at the bottom of it, representing something of a human shape, out of the breast whereof issued a fountain of exceeding clear milk as sweet as milk; and, when looked afronting, was like an antique piece of arch|itecture, which in old times they built over particu|lar springs; and on the other side appeared as if springing from the nostrils of a sea horse: These three so very different, and yet rightly compared

likenesses, being offered by one and the same unal|tered object, made him curious to examine what parts of every resemblance helped to make out the others: And having spent a considerable time in the examination, he found every thing, wh ich the front had likeness of, was employed in making the side representation, by being in some places short|ened, and others lengthened, according to the point of sight.

Being satisfied about that subject, he enters upon another as puzzling: The bason, in which the foun|tain ran, which was about five yards distant from whence the water did spring, being but about nine feet over every way, without any visible place to evacuate its over complement, and yet keeping the same height, without dashing or running over, al|though the stream that fell into it ran as big as his wrist. Having a long time searched into the cause, without any satisfaction, he conjectures it must make its way out somewhere under ground; so went on, till he came to the place he had begun his march at, which ended that day's work.

Having been round the island, which to the best of his judgment, was about ten or eleven miles in circumference, of an oblong form, going in and out in several places, extending from north to south, the south end near twice as broad as the opposite; he resolves to employ the next day in viewing the in|side. Then recommending himself to Providence, as he never failed to do, both morning and even|ing, he goes to bed; but not being sleepy, the over active faculty in man roves from one subject to another; His mind runs from his present station to his former, reassuming his past pleasures, which he must never hope to meet with again, and calls in all the evils his present condition of life lays him

exposed to. These dull thoughts quite dislodge his late-born hopes of Heaven's assistance, and shake his future dependance on Providence: He snarls and quarrels with his fate, and repines at his con|dition; which not being in his power to mend, he wishes for eternal sleep, to free his mind of tu|mults and cares which crowd upon him.

Sleep was granted him, but not rest: His repin|ing is chastised with terrifying dreams of the pun|ishment he had been condemned to; all his past troubles come upon him in the most grievous and shocking manner they could appear; his raging wives at once fall upon him, exerting their utmost malice and revenge, which he cannot avoid, but by embracing either an ignominious death, or a severe and vile bondage. These terrible aspects put him in the same pains and agony, as if already feeling the assigned torment.

Having in his dream, with hard strugglings, escap|ed death, he finds himself in an exceeding hot country, his half-naked body continually bending to the hard and dry ground, grabbling round a nauseous weed for fulsome worms; every now and then lashed by a cross and severe task-master, who hurries him to work: In this great perplexity he cries out, Oh, that I had ended my woeful days at the shameful gibbet! Sure it would have been a milder fate! At which he awaked in such a con|sternation, that it was several minutes before he could be thoroughly satisfied it was but a dream. Having recalled his dispersed senses, he made this reflection, that it really was 〈◊〉〈◊〉 penalty he had been sentenced to, and by Providence preserved from. Setting then his present condition in opposition to that, he acknowledges his ingratitude, for which he secretly repents, and on his knees, with weep|ing

eyes, asks pardon, imploring the continuation of Providence's protection; resolving, for the fu|ture, never to think or wish to change that state of life it had pleased Heaven to place him in; wholly dedicating the remains of his days to God's wor|ship: Holding henceforth, as inestimable, the hap|piness of being freed from thos e cares, which daily flow on them who are concerned with the world, which might cool or slacken his duty to so great a benefactor.

Having intirely resigned himself to the will of God, he casts off all cares, and banishes from his mind all that could create any; resolving to em|ploy those hours that ran between the intervals of time he had dedicated to divine worship, in the contemplation of the many wonderful works of Nature, manifested in such various manners all over the island.

So he walks along the land, which he found very level, covered with a delightful green grass and adorned with trees of divers sorts, shapes, and height, inhabited with several sorts of curious sing|ing birds, of various colours and notes, which en|tertained him with their melodious harmony: In some places stood a cluster of trees, composing a|greeable and delightful groves, proceeding from only one main body, whose lower branches, being come to a certain length, applied to the earth for immediate nourishment, as it were, to ease the old stem that produced them; and so became a plant, and did the same.

Having for some time admired the agreeable|ness and curiosity of the plant, by which Nature seemed to give human kind instructions; and looking about, if perchance he could find any thing in his way for his own proper use; he took away

with him a sample of every different herb he thought might be eatable. Crossing the island in several places; he comes at a most delightful pond, about two hundred yards in length, and one hundred and fifty wide, with fine trees spreading their branchy limbs over its brink, which was surrounded with a beautiful bank, covered with divers kinds of flow|ers and herbs, so naturally intermixed, which com|pleted it in ornament and conveniency, as though intended by Nature for more than mortal's use.

Having walked for several times round it, with much pleasure, he sat down a while upon its bank, to admire the clearness of the water, through which, to his great comfort, he saw many different sorts of fish, of various sizes, shapes, and colours. Heaven be praised! said he, here is a stock of fresh-water fish to supply me with food, if the sea should fail me.

Being sufficiently diverted with their chasing one another, which were of many beautiful and differ|ent colours, and made a most delightful scene, he proceeds in his walk, and goes to the south of the island, where he finds another subject of admira|tion; a noble and spacious wood, whose shades seemed to be made for the abode of peace and plea|sure: He walked round it with much delight, which made the time seem short; yet he could guess it to be no less than two miles about.

Having viewed the outside, whose extraordina|ry agreeableness incited in him an unsurmounta|ble desire to get into it, but where he was afraid to venture, left there might be des••••uctive crea|tures; yet, having recommended himself to the care of Providence, he ventured into it, finding several pleasant walks, some straight, edged with lofty trees, as though planted for pleasure; others 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and winding, bordered with a thick hedge

of pimentoes, which cast a most fragrant smell: Here and there a large cluster of bushes and dwarf trees, wherein sheltered several different kinds of wild beasts and fowls. Sure, said he, this island never was intended by Nature to lie waste, but rather reserved to be the happy abode of some for whom Heaven had a particular blessing in store: Here is every thing sufficient, not only for the sup|port, but also for the pleasure of life; Heaven make me thankful that I am the happy inhabitant of so blessed a land!

Being hungry, and tired with walking, he goes home, in order go get some victuals, and having made a fire, he boils a slice of his salt fish with some roots, and then the herbs he brought with him, which proved of divers tastes and all excellent; some eating like artichoakes, others like asparagus and spinage. Now, said he, what can I wish for more! Here I possess a plentiful land which pro|duces both fowls, flesh, and fish; bears excellent greens and roots, and affords the best of water, which by Nature was ordained for man's drink. Pomp and greatness are but pageantry, which often|times prove more prejudicial to the actor, than di|verting to the beholder; Ease and indulgence are apt to breed the gout, and various distempers, which make the rich more wretched that the poor; now these evils, thanks to my Maker, I stand in no danger of, having but what is sufficient, which never can do any harm.

Thus thoroughly easy in his mind, he proposes to spread the afternoon at the outside of the rock, in viewing the sea, and looking for oysters; so takes in his hand his long staff to grabble in holes; and his breeches, which he ties at his knees, to bring them in. Being come to a place of the rock he never

had been at before, he sees at a distance, something like linen hanging upon it; which, when come at, he found to be the mainsail of a ship, with a piece of the yard fastened to it: Alas! side he, a dismal token of insatiable ambition! which makes men of|ten lose their lives in seeking what they seldom find; and, if they ever do, it is commonly attend|ed with a world of care. Happy is he who limits his desires to his abilities; aspiring not above his reach, and is contented with what nature requires. Then he falls a ripping the sheet from the yard, which he finds in one place tied, with one of his gar|ters! (having made use of it for want of another string) Heaven be praised, said he, this is no effect of another shipwreck, but a fragment of the unfor|tunate ship, whose loss was my redemption; which reflection made him shed tears.

Having ripped the sail in pieces, he rolls them up in such bundles as he could conveniently carry, and lays them down till he had got a few oysters, proceeding to grope in holes with his stick as he went on.

About forty paces farther, he finds a chest in a clift of the rock, which had been washed up there by the violence of the late storm: Heaven! said he, more fatal effects of fate's cruelty, and man's temerity! Was the sea made for man to travel on? Is there not land enough for his rambling mind to rove? Must he hunt after dangers, and put death to defiance? What is the owner of this the better for it now! Or who can be the better in a place so remote, and the access to it so difficult? being not to be approached but on the wings of Providence, and over the back of death. Now was this full of massy gold, or yet richer things, I thank my God, I am above the use of it; yet I

will take it home: It was sent hither by Provi|dence, perhaps for the relief of some so necessita|ted and destitute. Then going to lift it, he could not; therefore was obliged to fetch his hatchet to beat it open, that he might take away what was in it by degrees. Having taken as much of the sail|cloth as he could conveniently carry, with the few oysters he had got, he went home, and fetched the tool, where with he wrenched the chest open, from which he took a suit of clothes, and some wearing linen: These, said he, neither the owner, nor I, want; so laid them down: The next thing he took out, was a roll of several sheets of parchment, being blank indentures and leases; these, said he, are in|struments of the law, and often applied to injustice; but I will alter their mischievous properties, and make them records of Heaven's mercies, and Prov|idence's wonderful liberality to me; so instead of being the ruin of some, they chance to be the re|claiming of others. At the bottom of the chest lay a rundlet of brandy, a Cheshire cheese, a leather bottle full of ink, with a parcel of pens, and a pen|knife: As for these, said he, they are of use; the pens, ink, and parchments have equipped me to keep a journal, which will divert and pass away a few anxious hours: As for the cheese and brandy, they will but cause me new cares: Before I had them, I wanted them not; now, the benefit and comfort I shall find in them, when gone, will make me hanker after them most: I wish I had still been without them; but now they are here, it would be a sin to, let them be lost. I will take them home, and only use them at my need; which will both make them, hold out the longer, and me grow less fond of them.

So, by degrees, he takes home the chest, and what was in it; and now having materials to begin

his journal he immediately fell to work, that for want of other books, he might, at his leisure, peruse his past transactions, and the many mercies he had received from Heaven; and that, after his disease, whoever is directed thither by Providence, upon reading his wonderful escapes in the greatest of dan|gers; his miraculous living, when remote from hu|man assistance; in the like extremity, might not de|spair. Thus he begins from his being eight years old (as well as he can remember, he heard an old aunt of his say) to the day of his being cast away, being then twenty-eight years of age, resolving to continue it to his death.

Thus having written the preceding account of the shipwreck, and what had befallen him since, to the finding of the chest, he proceeds: But calling to mind his last dream but one, which did but warn him to make provision against winter, and the sea|son being pretty far advanced, he gathers a good store of fuel and roots; begins to line the outside of his barrack with a wall of turf, and lays the same at top, to keep out the wet: And as he now and then found small shell-fish and oysters upon the rock, he makes a bridge over the lake, which in warm weather he used to wade, that in the winter he might go over dry: So, having completed his bridge, which was made of two strong poles, which reached from the land to the rock, and several lesser branch|es laid across pretty close, he retires home, the day being far spent: The following night there arose at violent storm, attended with dreadful claps of thun|der, which the many echoes from the rock, render|ed the more terrible; lightning slashing in a most frightful manner, succeeding each other, before the preceding was well out of the sky, which put poor lonesome Quarll in such a consternation, that not|withstanding

his reliance on Heaven's protection, he would have given the world (had it been in his possession) to have been within the reach of human assistance; or at least, to have some company; sol|itude adding much to his terror and affliction.

The glorious rising of the next morning's sun having laid the mortifying rage of the blustering winds, Quarll, whose late alarm was hardly quelled, still suspecting its most reviving rays to be terrify|ing glances and flashes of lightning; but having lain a while, and hearing no noise, but that which still raged in his mind, was at last convinced the storm was over; and so gets up with a resolution to go and see if he could discern any effect of the late tempest.

Being come at the other side of the rock, he saw, indeed, surprising objects, but not afflicting; the mischief that was done, being to the inhabitants of the sea only, a vast number of which had, by the wind, been dis-elemented; a quantity of whitings, fine mackerels, large herrings, divers sizes of cod|lings, and several other sorts of fish, with a great number of shells, of different shapes and bignesses, lying up and down upon the rock. Heaven be praised, said he, instead of damage to bewail, what thanks have I now to return for this mighty bene|fit! Here the powerful agent of mischief is, by kind Providence, made a minister of good to me: Make me thankful! I am now provided for all the next winter; and yet longer; by which time I am cer|tain to have a fresh supply.

He who, when in distress, To God makes his address,

And his bounties implore; Is sure, and may depend, That relief he will send, And at need help the poor. * 5.1

Thus having taken up as many fish as he could hold in his arms, he carries them home, and brings his shirt, which he used instead of a sack: So, at several times, he brought away all the fish, and as many of the shells as he had occasion for; of some of which he made boilers and stew-pans, of others dishes and plates: Some he kept water in, and oth|ers fish in pickle; so that he was stocked with ne|cessary vessels as well as provision.

Being very weary with often going backwards and forwards with his fish, which took up all that day to bring them home, he fits down to rest him|self; and the rundlet of brandy lying by, he was tempted to take a sup, which was at that time very much wanted, his spirits being very low; but was loth to taste it, lest he should grow fond of the liquor, and grieve after it when gone: Some moments were spent before he could come to a resolution; at last, having considered the use of it, which suit|ed the present occasion, he concludes to take a dram, and to use it like a cordial as it was first in|tended for; but the vessel out of which he drank being at his mouth, the cordial turns to a nectar; one gulp decoys another down: so the intended dram became a hearty draught. The pleasentness of the liquor made him forget its nature; so that poor Quarll who had for the space of near three months before, drank nothing but water, was pre|sently overcome with the strength of the brandy,

and fell asleep in his chair, with the rundlet on his bare lap, from whence it soon fell to the ground, and being unstopt, ran all out.

Being awaked with hunger, having slept from evening till almost noon of another day, which he knew not whether the succeeding or the next to it; seeing what had happened he was sorely vexed, and could have wept at the accident; but considering the liquor which occasioned it, might perhaps, in time, have caused greater mischief, he was soon reconciled with the loss, but could not with that of the right order of days, which having entirely for|got, hindered the going on of his journal; so was obliged to make only a memorial. That damage being repaired, another appears of a far greater consequence; the Sunday is lost, which he had so carefully observed to that time: How can that be made up? Now, said he, shall I daily be in danger of breaking the Sabbath, knowing not the day. Oh fatal liquor! that ever thou wert invented to cause so much mischief! murder, adulteries, and blasphe|mies, as are daily, by thy most pernicicious use, oc|casioned. But why should I lay the blame upon the use, when it is the abuse that does the hurt! and ex|claim against a thing, which being taken in mode|ration, is so great a benefit, reviving a fainting heart, raising sinking spirits, warming cold and de|caying nature, and assuaging several pains: So blames himself highly for gratifying his appetite with that where with he only ought to have refresh|ed nature; and since that often misguided faculty had prompted him to commit the fault, he dedi|cated that day, in which he became sensible of it to prayers and fasting; and every seventh, from that he sets apart for divine worship only, which he hoped would keep him from breaking the com|mandments,

for keeping holy the sabbath day; it being not certain, that the day appointed by the church for that purpose, was the very day that God had sanctified for the rest: So went to the place where the echoes, in many different and melodious sounds, repeated his thanks giving to the Almighty, which he had fixed upon to pay his de|votion, and there spent the rest of the day in pray|ers, and singing of psalms.

The next morning, having breakfasted with some of his usual bread, and a slice of the cheese he found in the chest, he goes about curing his fish, in order to salt them: Having laid by as many, for the present use, as he thought he could eat whilst fresh, he improves the fair weather to dry one part of the remainder, and keeps the rest in pickle.

The winter being near at hand, and the weather growing damp and cold, hinders him from his walks; so being confined within doors, he employs his idle hours in beautifying his utensils, which were not to be used on the fire: and bestowed some pains in scraping and polishing the rest of his shells, some as fine as though they had been nakes of pearl; which made them not only more fit for their intended uses, but also a great ornament to his bar|rack, which he shelved round with plaited twigs, after the manner of his table, and so set them upon it.

Thus he spent the best part of the winter, mak|ing no farther remarks, but that it was very sharp, attended with high winds, abundance of hail and show, which obliged him to make a broom to sweep it away from about his hut, which would have been damaged by it.

But shivering winter, having exhausted his frosty stores, and weary with vexing nature, retired: Bo|reas also, grown faint with hard blowing, is forced to retreat into his cave; gentle Zephyrus (who till then kept up in his temperate cell) now comes forth to usher in the blooming spring; so mildly slips on to inform nature of her favourite's ap|proach, who at the joyful news put on gay enamel|led garb, and out of her rich wardrobe supplies all vegetables with new vesture, to welcome the most lovely guest. The feathered choristers also re|ceives new strength; their tender lungs are repair|ed from the injuries the foggy and misty air did occasion; and, thus revived, and placed on every budding tree, to grace his entrance with their har|monious notes.

Quarll also whom bad weather had confined within doors a considerable time, which had in a great measure numbed his limbs, and dulled his senses, now finds himself quite revived: He no lon|ger can keep within; the weather invites him out; the singing birds on every side call to him; na|ture itself fetches him out to behold her trea|sures.

Having with unspeakable pleasure walked some time, diverted with the sweet melody of various kinds of singing birds, and the sight of abundance of different sorts of blossomed trees, and blooming flowers; all things within the island inspiring joy, he had the curiosity to go and view the sea: So goes over his bridge; and then, at the other side of the rock, where he finds more objects, requiring as much admiration, but affording a great deal less pleasure; vast mountains of ice floating up and down, threatening all that 〈…〉〈…〉 their way.

These terrible effects of the winter, which to that

time he was a stranger to, occasioned his making these reflections:

He who on billows roves, riches or wealth to gain, Is ever in danger, and labours oft in vain; If fortune o•• him smiles, giving his toil success, Each day new cares arise, which mar his happiness. The only treasure, then, worth laying up in store, Is a contented mind, which never leaves one poor; He is not truly rich, who hankers after more.

So, having returned Heaven thanks for his hap|py state, he creeps to the north east side of the rock, at the foot of which lay an extraordinary large whale, which the late high wind had cast there, and died for want of water. If this, said he, is all the damage that has been done last winter, it may be borne; so went down, and measured the length of it, which was above thirty yards, and proportionable in bigness: There were shoals of small fishes swimming about it in the shallow water wherein it lay, as rejoicing at its death: Thus, said he, the oppressed rejoice at a tyrant's fall. What numbers of those have been destroyed to make this monstrous bulk of fat! Well happy are they, who, like me, are under Heaven's govern|ment only. So with his knife, which he always carried in his pocket, cuts several slices of the whale, and throws them to the small fishes, saying, it is but just you should, at last, feed on that which so long fed on you; and, as oil ran, in abundance, from the places he had cut the slices out of, it vex|ed him to see that wasted, which might turn to good money: But why, said he, should I be disturbed at it? What use have I for any? Providence takes none, it gives me all gratis. So goes on feeling for oysters with his staff which he always walked with.

Having at last found a hole, where by their rat|tling at the bottom with his staff, he judged there might be a pretty many, he marks the place, and goes home to contrive some instrument to drag them up, being yet too cold for him to go into the wat|er; and as he had no tool but his knife and hatch|er, both improper to make a hole in a board, as requisite to make a rake, which was wanting for ••hat purpose; he beats out the end of his chest, in which there was a knot: So having driven it out, he fastens the small end of a pole to it. Thus equipped, he went and raked up oysters, which ad|ded one dish to his ordinary, and sauce to others; yet at length his stomach growing qualmish with eating altogether fish, and drinking nothing but water withal, he wishes he could have a little flesh, which he might easily, there being animals enough in the wood apparently fit for food; but then he must deprive them of their lives, barely to make his own more easy.

Thus he debates with himself for some time, whether or no it would not be injustice for him (who only by a providential accident was brought thither to save his life) now to destroy those crea|tures, to whom Nature has given a being in a land out of man's reach to disturb. Yet nature requires what seems to be against nature for me to grant: I am faint, and like to grow worse, the longer I abstain from flesh.

Having paused a while; why, said he, should I be so scrupulous? Were not all things created for the use of man? Now, whether is it not worse to let a man perish, than to destroy any other crea|ture for his relief? Nature craves it, and Provi|dence gives it: Now, not to use it in necessity, is undervaluing the gift.

So, having concluded upon catching some of those animals he had seen in the wood, he consid|ers by what means, having no dogs to hunt, not guns to shoot: Having paused a while, he resolves upon making gins, wherewith he had seen hares catched in Europe: Thus, taking some of the cords which he found with the sail at the outside of the rock, he goes to work, and makes several, which he fastens, at divers gaps in the thickest, within the wood, through which he judged that sort of beast, he had a mind for, went.

Impatient to know the success of his snares, he gets up betimes the next morning, and goes to ex|amine them; in one he found a certain animal something like a fawn, the colour of a deer, but feet and ears like a fox, and as big as a well-grown hare: He was much rejoiced at his game, whose mouth he immediately opened, to see if he could find out whether it fed on grass, or lived upon prey, the creature being caught by the neck, and strangled with struggling, before it died had brought up in its throat some of the greens it had been eating, which very much pleased him; accounting those which lived upon flesh as bad as carrion.

Having returned thanks for his good luck, he takes it home in order to dress part of it for his dinner; so uncases and guts it: But its proving to be a female, big with three young ones, grieved him to the heart, and made him repent making those killing nooses: What pity, said he, so many lives should be lost, and creatures wasted! One would have served me four days; and here are four killed at once. Well, henceforth, to prevent the like evil, I'll take alive what I just want, and save all the females. So, having stuck a long stick at both

ends in the ground, making half a circle, he hangs one quarter of the animal upon a string, before a good fire, and so roasts it.

His dinner being ready, having said grace, he set to eating with an uncommon appetite; and, whether it was the novelty of the dish, or that the meat did really deserve the praise, he really thought he never eat any thing of flesh, till then, compara|ble to it, either for taste or tenderness.

Having dined both plentifully and deliciously, he most zealously returns kind Providence thanks for the late, and all favours received; then, pursu|ant to his resolution, he goes making nets, in order to take his game alive for the future; and, as he had no small twine to make it with, he was obliged to unravel some of the sail which he luckily had by him; and with the the thread twist some of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 bigness he judged proper for that use.

Having made a sufficient quantity, he makes a couple of nets, about four feet square, which he fastens in the room of the killing snares; so retir|ed, and resolved to come and examine them eve|ry morning.

Several days passed without taking any thing, so that he wanted flesh a whole week, which did begin to disorder his stomach, but not his temper; being entirely resigned to the will of Providence, and fully contented, with whatever Heaven was pleased to send. One afternoon, which was not his customary time of day to examine his nets, being visible in the day time for game to run in; he hap|pened to walk in the wood, to take the full dimen|sions thereof, so chanced to go by his nets; in one of which were taken two animals, as big as a kid six weeks old, of a bright dun, their horns upright and straight, their shape like a stag, most curiously

limbed, a small tuft of hair on each shoulder and hip. By their horns, which were but short, they appeared to be very young, which rejoiced him the more, being in hopes to tame those he did not want for present use; so carried them home, joyful of his game, depending upon a good din|ner; but was sadly disappointed: The ani|mals he found were antelopes (calling to mind he had seen them in his travels) which prov|ing both females, he had made a resolution to pre|serve. Though they were too young to be with kid, and he in great need of flesh, yet he would not kill them; so, with cords, fastens them to the outside of his lodge; and with constant feeding them, in two months time made them so tame, that they followed him up and down; which added much to the pleasure he already took in his habitation, which by that time was covered with green leaves, both top and sides; the stakes it was made of hav|ing struck root, and shot out young branches, whose strength increasing that summer; to fill up the vacancy between each plant, he pulled the turfs, wherewith he had covered the outside and top of the hut between them, to keep the cold out in the winter.

His former hut, being now become a pleasant arbour, gave him encouragement to bestow some pains about it towards the embellishment of it, which seemed to depend on being well attended. He resolved upon keeping it pruned and watered, the better to make it grow thick and fast, which answered his intent; for in three years time, the stems of every plant that composed the arbour, were grown quite close, and made a solid wall of about six inches thick, covered with green leaves without which lay most regular and even, and with|in

had a most agreeable smooth bark, of a pleasant olive colour. His late arbour being by his care and time, and nature's assistance, become a match|less lodge, as intended by nature for something more than human guests, he now consults to make it as commodious as beautiful. Here is said he, a delightful dwelling, warm in the winter, and cool in the summer; delightful to the eye, and comfortable to the body; pity it should be em|ployed to any use, but repose and delight! So re|solved upon making a kitchen near it. Thus hav|ing fixed upon a place convenient at the side of his lodge, about six feet from it, twelve in length, and eight in breadth, which he inclosed with the turfs that covered the outside of his arbour, before it was sufficiently thick to keep out the cold; then having laid sticks across the top of the walls, which were about eight feet high, he lays turf thereon, and so covers it, leaving an open place for the smoke to go out.

The outside being done, he goes about inside necessaries, as fire places to roast and boil at; thus cuts a hole in the ground, at a small distance from the wall, after the manner of flew stoves in noble|men's kitchens; then, at another place, he sets two flat stones, about eight or nine inches broad, and one foot long, edgeways, opposite to one another; near two feet asunder; then puts a third in the same manner, at the end of the other two; so makes a fire-place fit to roast at: Then, for other conveniences, he weaves twigs about sticks, stuck in the wall on one side of the kitchen, where he lays the shells fit for utensils, which both adorned and furnished it.

Having completed that piece of work, he goes and visits his plantations, which he finds in a thri|ving

condition; the roots being in six months time, grown from the bigness of a pea (〈◊〉〈◊〉 they were when first set) to that of an egg: His an••elopes also were come to their full growth, and complete beauty, which exceeded most four-fo••••ed bea••••s; having a majestic presence, body and limbs representing a stag, and the noble march of a horse: So every thing concurred to his happiness. For which, hav|ing returned his most liberal Benefactor his grate|ful acknowledgements, he thinks on means to pre|vent any obstructions that may intercept the con|tinuation thereof; and as the want of clothes was the only cause he could think of, to make him un|easy, having but the jacket and hose which were given him on board, to save his own clothes, which, when worn out, he could not recruit; therefore, to accustom himself to go without, he thins those he had, so takes away the lining from the outside of his clothing, in order to wear the thickest in the coldest weather; and so thins his dress, by degrees, till at last, be went quite naked. Having thus con|cluded, as being the best shift necessity could raise him, he falls to ripping his jacket, in the lining whereof he found seven peas and three beans which were 〈◊〉〈◊〉 in a hole at the corner of the pocket.

Those few made him wish for more, which he had no room to hope for they being raised by seed, which the island did 〈◊〉〈◊〉 produce: These few, said h••, which at present are hardly sufficient to satisfy a woman's longing, may, with time and industry, be improved to a quantity large enough to serve me for a meal; then lays them up against a proper time to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 〈◊〉〈◊〉; so 〈◊〉〈◊〉 remainder of that summer in walking about the island, watering his lodge, weeding his root plantation, attending his nets, which now and then supplied him with an antelope

or goat, to eat at intervals between fish he common|ly found on the rock, after high winds and storms; never failing to visit the sea three or four times a week, according as the weather did prove; thus diverting many anxious hours with variety of ob|jects that element affords. Sometimes he had the pleasure of seeing great whales chasing one anoth|er, spouting large streams of water out of their gills and nostrils; at other times, numbers of beautiful dolphins rolling amongst the waves; now and then a quantity of strange monstrous fish playing on the surface of the sea, some whereof had heads (not common to fishes) like those of hogs; others not unlike those of dogs, calves, horses, lions, bulls, goats, and several other creatures: Some chasing another sort; which, to avoid being taken, would quit their element, and seek refuge in the air, and fly some yards above the water, till their fins being dry, obliged them to plunge in again.

These pastimes being generally succeeded with bad weather, and dreadful storms, checked the plea|sure they gave, with a dread of the evil that threat|ened to follow. Thus commiserating the case of those whose misfortune is to be exposed to them; having spent some time in reflection, he goes to his usual devotion, and calling to mind, that in all that time he never saw a young fish in the pond, he conjectured that something might destroy the small ones; and as he imagined, so it proved: For, at his approach, a large fowl slew out of the pond with a fish in its bill, being too large for it to swal|low.

At that distance, the bird being also upon the wing, he could neither discern colour or make; but he had the satisfaction of discovering the cause why the fishes did not increase, they being devour|ed

when young by that creature; which, to pre|vent, for the future, he studies means to kill the destroyer, nets not being proper instruments; it be|ing requisite, for that purpose, to have one all round, as also to cover 〈◊〉〈◊〉 pond, which was impossible, by reason of its largeness; and a less being of no use; the birds probably not coming to one certain place. He wished for a gun and ammunition fitting, as be|ing the most probable things to succeed; but no such instrument being within his reach he ponders again; during which time, a cross bow offers itself to his mind, but is as distant from his reach as the gun: It is true there was stuff enough in the island to make many, but no tools but a hatchet and a pocket knife; wherewith, if he made shift to cut and shape a bow, he could not make a latch and spring necessary to it; so he must not think on it: Yet, a bow being the only thing he could apply to, he goes about on forthwith.

Thus having picked a branch of a tree, which had the resemblance of yew, and as tough, of which they are sometimes made, he, with the tools he had, made a shift to make one of about six feet long, and arrows of the same, which he hardens and straightens over the fire; then, having slipt them at one end, about two or three inches, he slips in a bit of parchment, cut sharp at one end, and about three inches at the other; then ties the end close, to keep it in, which served for feathers; and, with the ravelling of some of the sails, he makes a string to it.

Thus equipped for an archer, wanting nothing but skill, which is only to be gained by practice, he daily exercised shooting at a mark for the space ••f a fortnight; in which 〈◊〉〈◊〉 he made such an im|provement that in three shoot he would 〈◊〉〈◊〉 a mark of about three inches lquar, at near 〈◊〉〈◊〉 〈◊〉〈◊〉 distance.

Being sufficiently skilled he goes and lies in wait for his desired game; so place himself behind a tree as near the pond, as he could, whither the bird came in a few hours after.

The creature being pitched upon the bank never stood still, but kept running round, watching for a sizeable fish to swallow; so that he had no opportu|nity to shoot: Till having, at last, espied out one, it launched itself into the pond but raised more ea|sily, which gave him time to take aim; neverthe|less he missed it, being in motion; but when come to the top, he struck it through the body, as it o|pened its wings, and laid it flat on the other side of the pond. He took it up wonderfully pleased at his good success the first time of his practising his new acquired are; yet, having taken notice of the bird's beauty, he had a regret for its death, though he might, in time, have rued its living; the stock of fish weekly decreasing, by his own catching one now and then with a small net he made for that use when short of other provision; and their recruiting prevented by that bird's daily devouring their young. The inexpressible beauty of the feathers which were after the nature of a drake, every one distinguished from another by a rim round the edge thereof, about the breadth of a large thread, and of a changeable colour, from red to aurora and green; the ribs of a delightful blue, and the feathers pearl colour, speckled with a bright yellow; the breast and belly (if it might be said to be of any particular colour) was that of a dove's feathers, rimmed like the back, diversly changing; the head, which was like that of a swan, for make, was purple also, changing as it moved 〈◊〉〈◊〉 〈◊〉〈◊〉 like burnished gold: Eyes like a ruby, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of gold round it; the feet the same as the bill; the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the bird

was between a middling goose and duck, and in shape resembling a swan. Having bemoaned the death of that delightful creature, he carefully takes cut its flesh, which, corrupting, would spoil the out|side; then fills the skin with sw••ot herbs, which he dried for that use; and having sewed up the place he cut open, to take the flesh out, he set it up in his lodge.

His good success in archery, made him love the exercise; so that what odd hours he had in the day (besides those he set apart for his divine worship, and those necessary occupations about his lodge plan|tations, and making remarks) he bestowed in shoot|ing at the mark; which in time made him so expert that he hardly would miss a standing mark the big|ness of a dove, at forty or fifty yards distance, once in ten times; and would shoot tolerably well flying; having once occasion to try it upon a monstrous ea|gle, which often flew rounding over the place where his antelopes and goats fed, near his lodge; which he shot at, fearing it would damage them, and killed it with the second arrow. The summer being over, during which, having been much taken up about his habitation and plantations, he had nei|ther time nor opportunity to make remarks farther than that it was some days very showery, and for the most part generally very hot; but now the weather being grown something cold, and the wind pretty sharp, he must be obliged to put on some clothes to keep it off, being as yet too tender to go any longer without; next to provide for his antelopes against the approaching winter; so makes a lodge for them, at the backside of his kitchen; with sticks which he drove into the ground, about two feet from the wall, and then bends them about three feet from the ground, and sticks them in the said

wall, and smaller branches he interwove between them: He••shuts up the front, and covers the top, leaving both ends open for the antelopes to go in at; then lays grass (which he dried on purpose) in the said lodge, for them to lie on. Thus having dug up a considerable quantity of roots, and being already stocked with salt fish, both dry and in pic|kle he was pretty well provided for his cattle and himself, against the ensuing winter, which proved much like the preceding one, only not so stormy. The succeeding spring having awaked slumbering nature, and reviving what the preceding hard sea|son had caused to droop every vegetable puts on new clothing and recovers their wonted beauty; each animal assumes fresh vigour; the beasts in the wood leap and bound for joy, and each bird on the trees sings for gladness. The whole cre|ation is, as it were, repaired and every creature decked with new life: Love, by Nature's direc|tion, for the increase of every kind, warms their harmless breasts; each animal seeks a mate; our same antelopes quit their abode and range the woods for the relief ordained to quell their inno|cent passion; which being assuaged, they return home, pregnant with young, to their master's great satisfaction; who having given them over, was doubly rejoiced to see them come again in an in|creasing condition. Heaven be praised! said he, I shall have a stock of my own; and will not fear wanting.

So, having made fitting preparations against their kidding, he goes and examines the improvement of his now plantation, where he found his roots grown full as large as any o•• those that grew wild. Make me thankful! said he; I am now provided with all necessary food; I shall no more need to

rob those poor creatures of that which nature had provided for their own proper use. Next he goes and views his small stock of peas and beans, which he found in a very promising case: So whilst the weather was fair, he falls to clearing a spot of ground to set them in as they increased. Turning up the ground, he found several sorts of roots that looked to be eatable some whereof were as big as a large carrot, others less. He broke a bit of every one; some of which breaking short, and being not stringy, he judged they must be eatable: Then he smells them; and finding the scent not disagreeable, he tastes them. Some were sweetish, others sharp and hot, like horse-radish; and those he propo|ses to use instead of spice. Sure, said he, these be|ing of a pleasant scent and favour, cannot be offen|sive to nature: So, having manured his ground, he takes a sample of every root which he judged eat|able, and boils them, as the surest way to experi|ence their goodness. Most of them proved not only passable good, but extraordinary; some eating like parsnips, others almost like carrots, but rather more agreeable; some like beets and turnips; ev|ery one, in their several kinds, as good as he ever eat in England, but of different colours and make; some being bluish others black; some red, and some yellow: These, though not wanted, having sufficient to gratify a nicer taste than his, were nev|ertheless extremely welcome, being something like his native country fare and product: So having re|turned thanks for this most agreeable addition to his ordinary, he sets a mark to every herb which those roots bore in order to get some of the seed to sow in a ground he would prepare: So, being provided with flesh, fish, herbs, and several sorts of roots, he goes and examines what improvement his

peas and beans have made; which he found in|creased to admiration; the seven peas having pro|duced one thousand, and the three beans one hun|dred: Having returned thanks for that vast in|crease, he lays them by, in order to set them at a proper season, as he had done the year before. By this time his antelopes had kidded, one of them having brought four young ones, and the second three: This vast addition to his provisions very much rejoiced him, being sure now not to want flesh at his need, which before he was in danger of; finding but seldom any thing in his net: So makes account to live upon two of the young bucks whilst they lasted; killing one as soon as sit for meat, and so now and then another, saving only five to breed; one whereof should be a mate to keep the females in rutting time, from the wood; lest, at on•• ••ime or other, they should stay away for good and all. The old ones being well fed, as he always took care to do, providing for them store of those greens he knew they loved; as also boiled roots for them now and then, of which they are very fond; the young ones throve apace, and grew very fat; so that in three weeks time they were large and sit to eat. He killed one; which being roasted, proved to be more delicious than any house lamb, sucking-pig, young fawn, or any other suckling whatever. Having lived upon that, with now and then a little fish, about one month, which was as long as he could keep it eatable, having dressed it at two different times, five days interval; eating the cold remains in several manners; reserv|ing one of the other two males for a time he should be scanted, and in want of flesh; but was unluck|ily disappointed by a parcel of large eagles, which flying one morning over the place where the young

antelopes were playing, being of a gay, as well as active disposition, who launched themselves with precipitation upon the male he reserved for time of need, and one of the females which he kept for breed; seeing his beloved diverters carrying away by those birds of prey, he runs in for his bow, but came too late with it, the eagles being gone. Hav|ing lost his two dear antelopes, especially the fe|male, having doomed the male for his own eating, he hardly could forbear weeping, to think of their being cruelly torn to pieces by those ravenous crea|tures: Thus having for some time lamented his loss, and bewailed their hard fate, he thinks on means to prevent the like evil for the time to come; and as his bow was not always at hand, he resolves upon making a net, and fastens 〈…〉〈…〉 he saw them come in at.

The succeeding winter proving very wet and windy, gave him but little invitation to take his usu|al walks; so having every thing he had occasion for at hand, he kept close to his ne••-making; for which having twine to twist, and thread to ravel out, to make the said twine, kept him employed till the following spring, which came on apace. Having finished his net, and every thing which belonged to it, he goes and fastens it to the trees, as he had pro|posed; then takes a walk to his plantations, which he found in a thriving condition; for which, and other benefits already received, he resolves, as in duty bound, to attend at his usual place of worship, and sing thanksgiving psalms, which the hardness of the weather had kept him from all the late win|ter; but it coming into his mind, that whilst he was at his devotion, returning thanks for the fair pros|pect of a plentiful crop, his antelopes would break into the 〈…〉〈…〉 hedge being as yet but thin, and

devour the promising buds, which are the principal occasion of his devotion; this not altogether im|proper consideration puts a sad check to his reli|gious intention. As he was debating in his mind between religion and reason, he perceived his an|telopes making towards the peas, whither they doubtless, would have got in, had he not returned, and driven them another way: Which accident convinced him he might find a more proper time to go about his devotion; no man being required to worship to his prejudice: So having put off his religious duty till he had better secured his peas and beans, he cuts a parcel of branches, wherewith he stops those gaps to prevent the creatures going in; and having completed his work he goes to his devotion adding to his usual thanksgiving, a par|ticular collect for his luckily being in the way to prevent his being frustr••••••d of the blessing Heaven so fairly promised to bestow on his labours. Ha|ving paid his devotion, he walks about the island, being all the way delighted with the birds celebra|ting their Maker's praise in their different harmo|nious notes: Every thing in nature, said he, an|swers the end of its creation, but ungrateful man! who ambitious to be wise, as his Creator, only learns to make himself wretched. Thus he walks till evening making several reflections on the dif|ferent conditions of men, preferring his present state to that of Adam before his fall, who could not be sensible of happiness, having never known a reverse; which, otherwise, he would have been more careful to prevent. Being come home and near bed time, he first eat his supper and then, having performed his customary religious service, he goes to bed: The next morning, after paying his usual devotion, he takes a walk to his plantations

on which he emplores a continuation of the pros|perous condition they appear to be in; next he goes to examine his nets, in which he finds a brace of fowls like ducks, but twice as large, and exceed|ing beautiful: The drake (which he knew by a coloured feather on his rump) was of a fine cinna|mon colour upon his back, his breast of a mazar|ine blue, the belly of a deep orange, his neck green, head purple, his eyes, bill, and feet, red; every co|lour changing most agreeably as they moved. The duck was also very beautiful, but of quite different colours, and much paler than the drake's. The disappointment in catching those delightful fowls, instead of ravenous eagles, as he had purposed, no wise displeased him, but he rather was rejoiced to have such beautiful fowls to look at; yet it went much against his mind to deprive those creatures of their liberty, the greatest comfort in life) which Nature took so much pains to adorn: But, said he, they were created for the use of man: So, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 keeping them for my pleasure, they will but an|swer the end of their creation. Their confinement shall be no stricter than my own; they shall have the whole island to range in. He then pinions them, puts them in the pond, and makes baskets for them to shelter in, which he places in the branches of those trees that hung closest to the water, taking particular care to feed them daily with roots roast|ed and boiled; and the guts of the fish, and other creatures, he used for his own eating, which made them thrive mainly, and take to the place; so that they bred in their season.

The five antelopes had by this time kidded, and brought sixteen young ones; his peas and beans al|so were wonderfully improved, having that season enough to stock the ground the year following.

Thus he returns kind Providence thanks for the vast increase, and concludes to live upon the young antelopes as long as they lasted, reserving only one for suck of the old ones, to keep them in milk, of which he had taken notice they had plenty, de|signing to draw it daily for his own use: so that in a little time he had enough to skim for cream, which he used for sauce instead of butter, and made small cheeses of the rest: Now having a pretty store of dairy-ware, he resolves to make a place to keep it in; the kitchen wherein he was obliged to lay his salt fish (which commonly smells strong) not being a proper place for cream and milk: For which end he makes a dairy-house at the other side of his dwelling, with branches of trees, after the manner of a close arbour, and thatches it over with grass; which answering the kitchen in form and situation made uniform wings, that added as much to the beauty as conveniency of the habitation. Having completed his dairy, he proceeds in his resolution of making cheese, having learned the way in Hol|land; and for want of recent to turn his milk, he takes some of the horse-redish seed, which being of a hot nature had the same effect: Having curd to his mind, he seasons it with his palate; then with his hatchet, he cuts a notch round in the bark of a tree, about eighteen inches in circumference; and a second in the same manner, six inches-below that: Then slits the circle, and with his knife gently o|pens it, parting in from the tree; Thus he makes as many hoops as he judged would contain his paste, which, being girded round with cords to keep them from opening, he fills with the said paste, and lays them by, till fit to eat.

This being done, which completed his provi|sions, he returns thank for those blessings which

had been so, liberally bestowed on him: Now, said he, Heaven be praised! I exceed a prince in hap|piness: I have a habitation strong and lasting, a beautiful and convenient freehold, store of com|forts, with all necessaries of life free-cost, which I enjoy with peace and pleasure uncontrolled: Yet I think there is still something wanting to complete my happiness: If a partner in grief lessen sorrow, certainly it must in delight augment pleasure. What objects of admiration are here concealed, and like a miser's treasure, hid from the world! If man who was created for bliss, could have been completely happy alone, he would not have had a companion given him: Thus he walks about thoughtful, till bed time. In that disposition he goes to bed, and soon fell asleep: The night also, being windy, added to his disposition: But his mind finds no repose; it still runs heavy upon the subject, that took it up the day before, and forms ideas suitable to his inclination; as solitude was the motive of its being disturbed, he indulges it with the thoughts of company, dreaming that the same of his station, and happy state of life, was spread about the world; that it promoted a vast number of people, from all parts, to come to it, which at last induced several princes to claim right to it, which being decided by a bloody war, a governor was sent, who laid taxes, demanded duties, raised rents, and warns him to be gone, hav|ing fixed upon his habitation for himself to dwell in. Being sadly disturbed, he cries out in his sleep, this is a great punishment for my 〈◊〉〈◊〉; Could I not be contented with being lord on this island, without provoking Heaven to bring me under the power of extorting governors. There happening a great noise, he starts out of his sleep, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the

thoughts of hearing a proclamation; and cries out, alas! it is too late to proclaim an evil which is al|ready come: But being thoroughly awake, and the noise still continuing he found he had been drea|ming, which very much rejoiced him: He there|fore put on his clothes, and hastens to the place he heard the noise come from. Being within forty or fifty yards thereof, he saw a number of monkies of two different kinds; one sort squealing and fighting against the other, without intermixing, but still ral|lying, as they scattered in the scuffle. He stood some time admiring the order they kept in; and the battle still continuing as fierce as at first, he advanced to see what they sought about; for he took notice, they strove very much to keep their ground. At his approach the battle ceased; and the combatants retiring at some distance, left the spot of ground, on which they sought, clear; whereon lay a considerable quantity of wild pome|granates which the wind had shook off the trees the night before, and which were the occasion of their strife. His coming having caused a truce, every one of those creatures keeping still and quiet during his stay, he resolves to use his endeavours to make a solid peace; and as that difference had arisen from the fruit there present, to which he could see no reason but that each kind had an equal right; he divides it into two equal parcels, which he lays opposite to each other towards both the parties, re|tiring a little way, to see whether this expedi|ent would decide the quarrel: Which answered his intent; those animals quietly coming to that share next to them, and peaceably carrying it away, each to their quarters. This occasioned several reflections on the frivolous, and often unjust quar|rels that arise among princes, which create such

bloody wars, as prove the destruction of vast num|bers of their subjects. If monarchs, said he, al|ways acted with as much reason as these creatures▪ how much blood and money would they save! Thus goes on to his usual place of worship, in or|der to return thanks, that he was free of that evil, the dream whereof had so tortured his mind; tho' he confessed he justly deserved the reality, for his uneasiness in the happiest of circumstances. Hav|ing paid his devotion, he takes a walk to see how his peas and beans came on, which he found in a very improving disposition, each stem bearing a vast number of well filled pods. Heaven be prais|ed! said he; I shall eat of this year's crop, and have sufficient to stock my ground the ensuing one. Thus being plentifully supplied with necessaries, and in a pleasant island, every thing about him be|ing come to perfection; his dwelling, which seems intended by nature for some immortal guest, being, by time, yearly repaired and improved, leaving no room for care; yet the unwise man, as if an enemy to his own ease, cannot be contented with the en|joyment of more than he could reasonably crave, but must disturb his mind with what concerns him not: What pity, said he, so delightful a habitation, attended with such conveniences, and situated in so wholesome an air, and fruitful a land, should at my death, lose all those wonderful properties, being become useless for want of somebody to enjoy them! What admiration will here be lost for want of beholders! But what kind of man could I settle it upon, worthy of so fine an inheritance? Were it at my pleasure to choose myself an heir, such only appear virtuous, whose weak nature confides to chastity: Every constitution cannot bear excess: want of courage occasions mildness, and lack of

strength good 〈◊〉〈◊〉: Thus virtue is made a cloak to infirmity▪ But why do I thus willingly hamper myself with those cares Providence has been pleas|ed to free me off

Leave the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the knowing care, Who'll ••••cceed him, or be his heir; That racks his soul with discontent, Lest what 〈…〉〈…〉 for should be spent. His gold to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 is far more dear, Than all his friends or kindred near.

The next morning he takes his usual walks, and visits his nets: In that he had set for eagles, he found a fowl as big as a 〈◊〉〈◊〉, but the colour of a pheasant, only a tail like a partridge: This having no sign of being a bird of prey, he was loth to kill it; but having ••ad no fresh 〈◊〉〈◊〉 for above a week, he yields to his appetite and dresses it, eating part thereof for his 〈◊〉〈◊〉 It was very fat and plump, and eat much like a pheasant but rather tenderer, and fuller of gravy. Though he was very well pleased with the bird he had taken, yet had rather it had been one of the eagles which kept his young antelopes in jeopardy: But as he could not destroy them with his net, which had hung a considerable time without the intended success, he projects the prevention of their increase, by destroying their eggs, leaving his nets wholly for the use they had been successful in; and searches the clifts of the rock next the sea, where those birds commonly build; where having ••ound several nests, he takes away the eggs that were in them, being then their breeding time, and carries them home, in order to empty the shells, and hang them up and down in his habitation, amongst the green leaves which cov|ered the ceiling thereof; but having accidentally broke one, and the yolk and white thereof, being

like that of a turky, he had the curiosity to boil one, and taste it, which eat much after the manner of a swan••s: The rest he saved to eat now and then for a change, reaping a double advantage by robbing those birds; lessening thereby the damage they might do him in time, and adding a dish to his pres|ent fare.

In this prosperous way he lived fifteen years, find|ing no alteration in the weather or seasons, nor meeting in all the time, with any transactions wor|thy of record; still performing his usual exercises, and taking his walks with all the content and satis|faction his happy condition could procure; entire|ly forsaking all thoughts and desires of ever quitting the blessed station he then had in his possession. Thus having walked the island over and over (which though delightful, yet the frequent repetition of the wonders it produces, renders them, as it were com|mon, and less admirable) he proceeds to view the sea, whose fluid element being ever in motion, daily affords new objects of admiration. The day being very fair, and the weather as calm, he sat down up|on the rock, taking pleasure in seeing the waves roll, and, as it were, chase one another; the next pursuing the first, on which it rides, when come at! and being itself overtaken by a succeeding, is also mounted on thus, wave upon wave, till come to a bulky body, too heavy for the undermost to bear, sunk altogether; This, said he, is a true emblem of ambition; men striving to outdo one another, are often outdone. As he was making reflections on the emptiness of vanity and pride, returning Heav|en thanks, that he was separated from the world, which abounds in nothing else; a ship appears at a great distance, a sight he had not seen since his ship|wreck: Unlucky invention! said he, that thou

shouldest ever come into men's thoughts! The ark, which gave the first notion of a floating habitation, was ordered for the preservation of man; but its fatal copies daily expose him to destruction. Hav|ing therefore returned Heaven thanks for his being out of those dangers, he makes a solemn vow, nev|er to return into them again, though it were to gain the world: But his resolution proved as brittle, as his nature was frail: The men on board had spied him out with their perspective glasses; and suppo|sing him to be ship-wrecked, and to want relief, sent their long boat with two men to fetch him away. At their approach his heart alters its motion; his blood stops from its common course; his sinews are all stagnated; which entirely unframes his reason, and makes him a stranger to his own inclination; which struggling with his wavering resolution, oc|casions a debate between hope and fear: But the boat, being come pretty nigh, gave hope the advan|tage, and his late resolution yields to his revived in|clination; which being now encouraged by a prob|able opportunity of being answered, rushes on to execution. He now, quitting all his former reliance on Providence, depends altogether upon his getting away, blessing the lucky opportunity of seeing his blessed country again, for which pleasure he freely quits and forsakes all the happiness he enjoyed! gladly abandoning his delightful habitation, and plentiful island: He thinks no more of Providence; his mind is entirely taken up with his voyage: But disappointment, which often attends the greatest probabilities, snatches success out of his hand be|fore he could grasp it, and intercepts his supposed infallible retreat: The boat could not approach him, by reason of the rocks running a great way into the ••ea under water; nor could he come at the

boat for sharp points, and deep holes, which made it unfordable, as well as unnavigable; so that after several hours striving in vain on both sides, to come at one another; the men, after they had strove all they could but to no purpose, said something to him in a rage, which he understood not, and went with|out him, more wretched now, than he was when he was first cast away: His full dependence upon a retreat made him abandon all further reli|ance on Providence, whom then he could implore; but now, having ungratefully despised Heaven's bounties, which had been so largely bestowed on him, he has forfeited all hopes of assistance from thence, and expects none from the world: Thus destitute, and in the greatest perplexity, he 〈◊〉〈◊〉 out, whither shall I now fly for help! The world can give me none, and I dare not crave any more from heaven. O cursed delusion! but rather cursed weakness! Why did I give way to it! Had I not enough of the world, or was I grown weary of be|ing happy? So saying, he falls a weeping: Could I shed a flood of tears, sufficient to wash away my fault or ease me of the remorse it does create! but why does my distracted fancy propose impossibili|ties? Is not the ocean sufficient to rid me of this wretched life? Then adieu, infectious world, thou magician of iniquity! The thoughts of which are now more offensive, than the most nauseous odour of an old sepulchre. Here he was going to cast him|self into the sea; but a vast large monster, rising out of the water▪ with its terrible jaws wide open, look|ing at him, in a most dreadful manner, stopped the execution of his desperate design: Thus, death ap|pearing in a different shape than he had proposed to meet him in, frightens away his resolution of dy|ing: I may, said he, cond••mn myself; but vengeance

belongs to God alone, who rejects not tears of re|pentance, but always extends his mercies towards the penitent; and since St. Peter, after thrice de|nying his Lord and Master, was, by repenting and weeping over his sin, received again into favour, I hope these my weak, but sincere tokens of repent|ance will be accepted of, for ever divorcing myself from the world, and never thinking of its alluring pleasures, but to despise them. And, for the better performance of that pious resolution, he sets that woeful day apart (in which he was about to com|mit that fatal deed) for prayer and fasting: Thus he went home, and spent the remainder of that in fast|ing and praying, singing penitential psalms till dark night, when nature urged him to repose. The pains and labour he had been at in the day, climbing up and down the rock, dragging himself to and fro, to come at the boat, having very much racked his limbs; and the disappointment of his full dependence on the late promising success, as also the tormenting remorse, and heavy grief, for his sinful reliance thereon, much fatiguing his mind, rendered sleep, which is ordained for the refreshment of nature, of no manner of help to him: His thoughts are con|tinually disturbed with frightful visions; all his past dangers gla•••• at him, as if threatening their return; but that which terrified him most was, the frightful idea of the terrible monster which rose out of the sea at that instant he was going to plunge himself in it.

Being a waked out of his restless sleep, rather more fatigued than when he lay down, having still the terrible aspect of a sea-monster in his mind, he made several reflections on the execrable nature of his intended sin; admiring the immense goodness of Providence, who, to deter him, from the commit|ting of the enormous act, had ordered that (beyond

imagination) terrible object, as the most suitable to the barbarity of his design, to strike into him that terror which the species of death he had fixed on could not. Thus having with tears acknowledged the enormity of his resolution, he returns Provi|dence thanks for its inestimable goodness, who (not|withstanding his late most ungrateful elopement) preserved him from eternal, as well as temporal ru|in: Having paid his devotion, and sung a thanks|giving psalm, he takes a little nourishment, his spi|rits being low with his past fatigue and fasting; and as he could not put out of his eyes the terrible as|pect of the monster, which was beyond chimerical conception, he resolves to draw it according to the idea he had in his mind: Perhaps, said he, having often the representation before mine eyes, it will make the object more familiar and less frightful.—Taking therefore pen, ink, and as sheet of parch|ment, now, said he, how shall I represent what is past imagination to conceive? A form without like|ness, and yet comparable to the most terrible part of every frightful creature; a large head resembling that of a lion, bearing three pair of horns; one pair upright, like that of an antelope; another pair like a goat's; two more bending backwards; its face armed all round with darts, like a porcupine; vast great eyes, sparkling like a flint struck with a steel; its nose like a wild horse, always snarling; the mouth of a lion, and teeth of a panther; the fences of an elephant, and the tusks of a wild boar; shouldered like a giant, with claws like an eagle, bodied and covered with shells like a rhinoceros, and the colour of a crocodile.

Having likened every different part, he proceeds in the representation thereof; which being finished, put him in the greatest admiration! Sure, said he, if nature had a hand in thy making, it was to as|semble

in one creature, all the fiercest and dread|fulest animals that are most frightful and terrible! Now, perhaps, this being constantly before me, may come l••ss in my mind. Then fixing it a|gainst his wall, this, said he, will be always a me|morandum of my late vow, never to endeavour to wish to go from hence, whatever opportunity offers, though attended with ever so great a probability of success, and prospect of gain; fully settling his whole mind and affection on the state and condi|tion Heaven has been pleased to place him in; re|solving to let nothing enter into his thoughts, but his most grateful duty to so great a benefactor, who has so often and miraculously rescued him from death.

Thus having entirely banished the world out of his mind, which before often disturbed it, he limits his thoughts within the bounds of his blessed pos|session, which affords him more than is sufficient to make his life happy; where plenty flows on him, and pleasure attends his desires; abounding in all things that can gratify his appetite, or delight his fancy: A herd of delightful antelopes, bounding and playing about his habitation, divert him at home; and in his walks he is entertained with the harmony of divers kinds of singing birds; every place he comes at offers him new objects of plea|sure; thus all seems to concur in completing his happiness.

In this most blessed state he thinks himself as A|dam before his fall, having no room for wishes, on|ly that every thing may continue in its present con|dition; but it cannot be expected, that fair weather, which smiles on his beauty, will not change. The sun must go its course, and the seasons take their turn; which considerations must, for the present ad|mit

some small care: He is naked, and his tender constitution susceptible of the cold; therefore the clothes he was cast away in being worn out, he is obliged to think of providing something to defend his limbs from the hardness of the approaching winter, whilst it was yet warm. Having considered what to make a wrapper of, he concludes upon us|ing some of the grass he made his mats of, on which he lay, being soft and warm, very fit for that pur|pose: Of this he cuts down a sufficient quantity, which, when ready to work, he makes a small twine with, and plaits it in narrow braids, which he sews together with some of the same, and shapes a long loose gown, that covered him to his heels, and a cap of the same.

By that time he had finished his winter-garb, the weather was grown cold enough for him to put it on. The frosty season came on•• apace, in which there fell such a quantity of snow, that he was for|ced to make a broom, and sweep it away from about his habitation twice a day; as also the same he made to the places he had occasion to go to, tossing the snow on each side, which, before the win|ter was over, met at top, and covered it all the way; which obliged him to keep within doors for a con|siderable time, and melt snow instead of water; le••t, going for some, he might chance to be buried a|mong the snow.

The winter being over and the snow dissolved, the gay spring advances apace, offering nature its usual assistance▪ repairing the damages the late frost had done▪ which joyful tidings made every thing smile. Quaril, also, finding himself revived, took his former walks, which the preceding bad weather had kept him from, though there had been no con|siderable storm the winter before.

He having a mind to view the sea, and being come to the out side of the north-west end of the rock, sees at the foot thereof, something like part of the body of a large hollow tree, the ends where|of were stopped with its own pitch; and the mid|dle, which was slit open from end to end, and kept gaping by a stick laid across. This put him in mind of canoes, with which Indians paddle up and down their lakes and rivers; and being on that side of the rock next to the island of California, he fancied▪ some of them were come to visit this island, though not many in number; their ca|noes holding at the most but two men; and for the generality, only one: Yet, as some of these are accounted great thieves, daily robbing one another, he hastens home to secure what he had; but it was too late: They had been there already, and had taken away the clothes he found in the chest; which being, by far, too little for him, hung care|lessly on a pin behind his door. Had they been contented with that, he would not have regarded it; but they carried away some of his curious shells, and, what grieved him most, the fine bird he had taken so much pains to dress and stuff, and care to preserve; as also his bow and arrows.

Having missed these things, which he much va|lued, he hastens to the outside of the rock, with his long staff in his hand, in hopes to overtake them before they could get into their canoe; but hap|pened to go too late, they being already got half a league from the rock: Yet they did no carry a|way their theft: for these arising some wind, it made the sea somewhat rough, and overset their canoe; so that what was in it was all lost but the two In|dians, who most dextrously turned it on its bottom again, and with surprizing activity leaped into it,

one at the one side, and the other at the opposite; so that the canoe being trimmed at once, they pad|dled out of sight.

Having seen as much of them as he could, he walks to the north east side, in order to discover the effects of the high wind, which happened the night before.

Being come to the outside of the rock, he per|ceives something at a distance like a large chest, but having no lid on it. Taking that to be the pro|duct of some late shipwreck, he grieved at the fatal accident: How long, reflected he, will covetous|ness decoy men to pursue wealth, at the cost of their precious lives? Has not nature provided ev|ery nation and country a sufficiency for its inhab|itants! that they will rove on this most dangerous and boisterous sea•• which may be titled Death's Dominions; many perishing▪ therein, and not one on it being safe.

As he was bewailing their ••ate, who he imagined had been cast away, he sees two men come down the rock, with each a bundle in his arm, who went to that which he had taken to be a chest; and hav|ing put their l••ad in it, pushed it away till come to deeper water; then, having got in it, with a long staff shoved it off, till they could row to a long boat that lay at some distance behind a jetting part of the rock, which screened it from his sight, as also the ship it belonged to.

The sight of this much amazed him, and made him cease condoling others' supposed loss, to run home and examine his own; well knowing those bundles he saw carried away, must needs belong to him; there being no other moveables in the island but what were in his lodge.

Being come home, he finds indeed what he sus|pected: Those villains had most sacrilegiously ri|fled and ransacked his habitation, not leaving him so much as one of the mats to keep his poor body from the ground. His winter garb also is gone, and what else they could find for their use.

The loss of those things, which he could not do without, filled him with sorrow:▪ Now, said he, I am in any▪ first state of being▪ naked I came into the world, and naked shall I go out of it; at which he fell a weeping.

Having grieved a while, why, said he, should I thus cast myself down? Is not▪ Providence, who gave me them, able to give me more? Thus, hav|ing resolved before winter to replenish his loss, he rests himself con••ented, and gives the ruffians' evil action the best construction he could. Now, I think on it, said he▪ these surely are the men, who, about twelve months since, would charitably have carried me hence, but could not, for want of necessary im|plements; and now▪ being better provided, came to accomplish their hospitable design; but not find|ing me, supposing I was either dead or gone, took away what was here of no use: Much good may what they have got do them▪ and may it be of as much use to them as it was to me. Thus walks out, in order to cut grass to dry, and make himself new bedding, and a winter garb.

Having walked about half a mile, he perceives the same men coming towards the pond: Heaven be praised! said he, here they be still. Now when they see I am not gone, nor willing to go, they will return my things, which they are sensible I cannot do without▪ with which words he goes up to them. By this time they had caught the two old ducks, which▪ being pinioned, could not fly away as the rest did.

He was much vexed to see the best of his stock thus taken away; yet as he thought they were come to do him service, he could grudge them nothing, that would any wise gratify so good an intent. But having returned them thanks for their good will, he told them he was very happy in the island, and had made a vow never to go out of it.

These being Frenchmen, and of an employment where politeness is of little use, being fishermen, and not understanding what he said, only laughed in his face, and went on to the purpose they came about: Then having as many of the ducks as they could get, they proceeded towards the house where they had seen the antelopes; some of which not running a way at their approach, they proposed to catch hold of them.

Being come to the place where they used to feed, which was near the dwelling, the young ones, not being used to see any men in clothes, nor any body but their master, presently fled; but the two old ones, which he had bred up, were so tame, that they stood still; only when the men came to them, they kept close to him, which gave the men opportuni|ty to lay hold of them; when, notwithstanding Quarll's repeated intreaties, they tied a halter about their horns, and barbarously led them away.

Quarll was grieved to the heart to see his dar|lings, which he had taken such care to breed up, and which were become the principal part of his de|light, following him up & down; and which, by their jumping and playing before him, often dispersed melancholy thoughts; notwithstanding all these en|dearing qualifications, thus hawled away, he weeps, and on his knees begs they may be left; and though they understood not his words, his actions were so expressive and moving, that had they had the hu|manity

of cannibals, who eat one another, they would have yielded to so melting an object as the poor broken hearted Quarll was; but the inflexible boors went on, cruelly hawling and dragging the poor creatures; which, as if sensible of the barbar|ity of the act, looked back to their afflicted master, as craving his assistance; which, at last, so exaspe|rated him, that he was several times tempted to lay on the ravishers with his long staff; as often was stopped by the following consideration: Shall I, said he, be the destruction of my fellow creatures, to rescue out of their hands, animals of which I have an improving store left, and deprive them of their healths, and perhaps of their lives, to recover what cost me nought? Let them go with what they have, and the merit of their deed be their reward. Thus he walks about melancholy, bemoaning his poor antelopes fate, and his own misfortune: They were used to liberty, said he, which they are now deprived of, and for which they will pine and die, which, for their sake, I cannot but wish; for life without liberty is a continual death.

As he was walking, thinking (as it is usual, after the loss of any thing one loves) of the pleasure he had during the enjoyment, the ruffians, having se|cured the poor animals, came back with ropes in their hands. What do they want next? said he, have they not all they desire; would they carry away my habitation also? Sure they have no design on my person: If so, they will not take it so easily as they did my dear antelopes. Thus he resolved to exercise his quarter-staff, if they offered to lay hands on him. The villains, whose design was to bind him, and so carry him away, seeing him arm|ed and resolute, did not judge it safe for them to

advance within the reach of his weapon, but keep at some distance, divining how to seize him.

Quarll, who, by their consulting▪ guessed at their design, not thinking proper to let them come to a resolution, makes at the nearest, who immediately takes to his heels; and then to the next, who im|mediately does the same: Thus he follows them a|bout for a considerable time; but they divided, in order to tire him with running, till the night ap|proaching, and the wind rising, made them fear their retreat might be dangerous, if they deferred it; so that they went clear away: which being all he desired, he returned as soon as he saw them in the long boat, which they rowed to their ship, that lay at anchor some distance from the rocks.

These wretches being gone, he returns Heaven thanks for his deliverance; and as his bridge had favoured their coming, he pulls it off, and only laid it over when he had a mind to view the sea, and goes home to eat a bit, having not as yet, broken his fast. Having, therefore, eaten some of his roots and cheese, and being wearied with hunting those boors, he consults how to lie, his bed and bedding being gone, as also his winter gown, and the nights being as yet cold: However, after a small time of consideration, he concludes to lie in the lodge, which was left vacant by the stolen antelopes' ab|sence; whose litter being made of the same grass that his mats were, he lay both soft and warm.

When laid down, being sorely fatigued, he soon fell asleep; and as the plunderers had the preceding day took up his cares, they filled his mind in the night; he has them continually before his eyes, sometimes with his beloved antelopes in their pil|fering hands; at other times barbarously hawling them by the horns with a halter, which they ought

to have about their own necks. These acts of austerity provoking his anger, and urging him on to revenge, he lifts his staff, which on a sudden is turned to Hercules' club: Startled to see that wonderful change, he stops from laying on the in|tended blow: Rescuing said he, my darling animals, I shall lose my precious and inestimable peace of mind: What can atone for the life of a man?—Whilst he was making these reflections, the men got clear away with the fowls and antelopes, leaving him in a deep melancholy: Thus, as he was be wail|ing his loss, calling to mind the agreeable pastimes they had often been to him, and the many anxious hours he had dispersed with their diversions, a gen|tlewomen appeared before him, of a most agreeable, yet grave countenance, dressed in plain dove co|loured clothes, in most places threadbare, and in others patched with different kinds of stuffs, yet genteel and becoming. He starts at her appearing, wondering what she could come for, having nothing more to lose: I come not, said she, to seek ought from thee, but to restore what thou hast lost. He being overjoyed at the words, looks about, expect|ing his beloved antelopes, and what else the men had taken away; but, seeing nothing, he thought that vision proceeded from vapours, which the great grief for his late loss had occasioned; and falls a thinking, till he was a second time interrupt|ed by her bidding him look her in the face. Be satisfied, be satisfied, woman, said he: Why, I nei|ther know thee, nor what thou meanest. Well, then, replied she, I will inform thee of both: I am Patience, whom all the world strive to grieve, and whom none can provoke▪ and what I promise▪ to restore thee, is Content, which thou throwest away after worthless things. So she vanishes. At which he awakes.

Having made reflections upon the latter part of his dream, the first part thereof being but a repeti|tion of what happened the day before, he makes this application: This, said he, is a check for my discomposing that peace upon such a frivolous ac|count, which by Providence was intended I should enjoy, having supplied me with all necessaries to maintain it: He therefore makes a resolution never to be vexed, let what will happen; but with patience submit to the will of God, who has the direction of all things. Then, having paid his usual devotion, he goes into the kitchen, in order to breakfast, and afterwards to take his customary walk. Whilst he was eating, there arose a noise in the air, as proceed|ing from a quantity of rooks, jackdaws, crows, and such like birds, whose common notes he was ac|quainted with; and as the noise approached, he had the curiosity to go and see what was the matter, but was prevented by the coming of a large fowl, which flew over his head, as he was going out: He turn|ed back to gaze at the bird, whose beauty seized him with admiration; the pleasure of seeing so charming a creature, quite put out of his mind the curiosity of looking from whence proceeded the disagreeable noise without; which ceasing as soon as the bird was sheltered, made him imagine those carrion birds had been chasing that beautiful fowl, which, seeing itself out of danger, stood still, very calm and composed; which gave him the oppor|tunity of making a discussion of every individual a|greement which composed so delightful an object: It was about the bigness and form of a swan, almost headed like it, only the bill was not so long, nor so broad, and red like coral; his eyes like those of a hawk, his head of a mazarine blue, and on the top of it a tuft of shining gold-coloured feathers, which

spread over it, hanging near three inches beyond all round; its breast, face, and part of its neck, milk|white, curiously speckled with small black spots, a gold-coloured circle about it; its back and neck behind of a fine crimson, speckled with purple; its legs and feet the same colour as its bill; its tail long and round, spreading like that of a peacock, composed of six rows of feathers, all of different colours, which made a most delightful mixture.

Having spent several minutes in admiring the bird, he lays peas, and crumbled roots, both roasted and boiled, before it; as also, water in a shell, with|drawing, to give it liberty to eat and drink; and stood out peeping to see what it would do; which, being alone, having looked about, picks a few peas, and drinks heartily; then walks towards the door, in a composed and easy manner, much like that of a cock.

Quarll, being at the outside was dubious whether he should detain him, or let him go; his affection for that admirable creature equally prompts him to both: He cannot bear the thoughts of parting with so lovely an object, nor harbour that of depriving it of liberty, which it so implicitly intrusted him withal. Thus, after a small pause, generosity pre|vails over self-pleasure: Why should I, said he, make the place of its refuge its prison: He there|fore makes room for it to go, which, with a slow pace, walks out; and having looked about a small time, mounts up a considerable height; and then takes its course north west.

There happening nothing the remainder of the year, worthy of record, he employs it in his custom|ary occupations; as pruning and watering his lodge and dairy, making his mats to lie on, as also his win|ter garb; every day milking his antelopes and g••ats;

making now and then butter and cheese, attending his nets, and such like necessary employments.

In the mean time, the French mariners, who, probably, got money by what they had taken from him the year before, returned, it being much about the same season: and being resolved to take him a|way, and all they could make any thing of, out of the island, were provided with hands and imple|ments to accomplish their design; as ropes to bind what they could get alive, and guns to shoot what they could not come at, saws and hatchets to cut down logwood and brasil, pick-axes and shovels to dig up orris-root, and others of worth, which they imagined the island produced; likewise flat-bottom|ed boats to tow in shallow water, where others could not come; and thus by degrees to load their ship with booty: But ever watchful Providence blasted their evil projects, and confounded their devices, at the very instant they thought themselves sure of success: The implements in a flat bottomed boat were towed to the very foot of the rock, by a young fellow, who being lighter than a man, was thought fittest to go with the tools, which pretty well loaded the boat.

Their materials being landed to their great satis|faction, the men on board embarked in two more of the same sort of boats; but were no sooner in them but a storm arose, which dashed their slender bottoms to pieces, and washed them into the sea, in which they perished, oversetting also the flat-bot|tomed boat on shore, with the load and the lad un|derneath it.

The storm being over, which lasted from about eight in the morning till almost twelve at noon, Quarll, according to his custom, went to see if he could perceive any damage done by the late tem|pest,

and if any, distressed by it, stood in want of help.

Being at that side of the rock he used to visit, he could see nothing but a few fishes and shells the sea had left in the clifts: If this said he, be all the damage that has been done, make me thankful; it will recruit me with fresh fish and utensils. Going to the north-west part, where he sees a battered boat, floating with the keel upwards, this, said he, bodes some mischief; but thought it not to be of any consequence. Having gone about fifty yards further, he espies a small barrel at the foot of the rock, with several planks and fragments of a ship, floating with the tide; Alas! said he, these are too evident proofs of a shipwreck, to hope 〈◊〉〈◊〉 wise.—As he was looking about, he hears a voice cry out, much like that of a man, at some distance, behind a part of the rock: Being advanced a small matter beyond where he was, Heaven be praised! says he, there is somebody, whom I am luckily come to save, and he is most fortunately come to be my compan|ion: I cannot but rejoice at the event, though I heartily grieve for the accident. Hastening to the place where he thought the cries came from, which, as he advanced, he could discern to be too shrill for a man's voice, certainly, said he, this must be some woman by the noise. This sets his blood a glowing; his heart alters its motion: Now, said he, joyfully, Providence has completed my happi|ness: I shall have a companion, and a help▪ mate; and goes on with fresh vigour, as though he had re|covered his strength, and got new limbs; the rough and savage rock, which was before, in a manner, in|accessible, is now made easy to walk on: He climbs the highest places with activity, and goes down the steep as nimbly; and soon arrived where he judged

the person to be: Yet, seeing nothing, but what he took to be a chest, began to be disheartened; Sure, said he, this is not a second illusion, to decoy my fancy after what is not to be had! Thus his joy on a sudden turned into a deep melancholy; but the creature underneath, who, having heard some noise near at hand, ceased crying to listen; yet finding nobody come, cries out again somewhat louder than before. This revived him quite, and recalls his hopes: It is a woman, said he, and in that chest; when, going to break it open, he stops▪ on a sudden: What am I going to do? How do I know the cause of her being thus locked up?—Tho•••• 〈◊〉〈◊〉 women are in a manner become a mer|chan•• 〈◊〉〈◊〉 yet they are never packed up or chested: She must be in there for a punishment, which in some countries is inflicted on witches. The boy, who heard a voice, calls out in French, which Quarll not understanding, he was afraid to let it out; but his mentioning Christ being intelligible to him, made him change his opinion: For Christ's sake, doth she say? That holy name witches seldom make use of: however▪ in that name I will let her out.—If she be under condemnation, was not I so? Had she by Heaven been decreed to die, she would not have been here. At which words, with his staff he endeavoured to break that which he took to be the lid of the chest, but proved the bottom; and as he was striking▪ the boy underneath, calling to him to turn it up, thrust his hand under the side, which he perceiving, though he understood him not, stood still: Finding his mistake, this, said he, is a flat|bottomed boat, such as the Frenchmen used the year before, when they plundered me: Now, am I safe if I turn it up? Doubtless they are come in|great numbers. Pausing a while, and the lad (whom

he took to be a woman) still continuing his moan, he was moved to compassion; and, having consid|ered the boat could not hold any great number, he ventures: Let what will come on it, or who will be under, for the poor woman's sake I will relieve them, there cannot be many men. However, I will let but one out at a time: If he be mischievous, I am able to deal with him. At this, he puts the end of the staff where he had seen the hand, and lifts it up about a foot from the ground: Out of the opening immediately creeps the boy, who, on his knees, falls a begging and weeping, expecting death every moment, as being the merited punishment for the evil purpose they came about.

Quarll, who expected there was a wom•••• ••esides, fearing the gap the youth came out at should be too uneasy for her to come through, made motions for the boy to help him, in order to set the boat on its bottom; which he did. Quarll, seeing the im|plements, instead of a woman, was as much vexed▪ as disappointed: His countenance changes; some|times he looks at the things, and then at the boy; who seeing him appear angry, thought of nothing but present death, and again falls on his knees, holding up his hands, almost drowned in tears, beg|ging for mercy in such a moving manner that Quarll could not forbear shedding some tears; and though the late disappointment of his proposed happiness, and the ••ight of the preparations made for his in|tended ruin had moved him to anger against that mercenary nation; he helps the young fellow up by the hand; and the night coming on apace, he takes one of the hatchets that lay by, and gave another to the boy, then falls a knocking the boat to pieces, and directed him to do the same; which he accord|ingly did.

The boat being demolished, they carried the boards up higher on the rock, as also the rest of the things; lest, in the night, some storm should rise, which might wash them back into the sea; it being then too late to bring them away. Having done, they each of them took up what they could carry, and so went home. The young Frenchman finding a kinder treatment than either he deserved or ex|pected, was extraordinary submissive and tractable; which made Quarll the more kind and mild; and instead of condemning his evil attempt, he com|miserated his misfortune, and instead of resentment shewed him kindness: Thus, having given him of what 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to eat, he puts him to bed in his lodge, wherein 〈◊〉〈◊〉, till he had got his mats made up; then went to bed himself, but could not sleep for thinking of his late disappointment, which intercept|ed those pleasures he so much depended on, think|ing himself sure of a female partner, who in sharing happiness with him, would have added much to his bliss.

Getting up sooner than ordinary, and having walked about till he thought it time for the boy to rise, he calls him up, and takes him to the place that he usually went every morning and evening to sing psalms; where the youth being come, and hearing so many different voices, and seeing no|body, was scared out of his wits, and took to his heels, making towards the rock as fast as he could; but as he was not acquainted with the easiest and most practicable parts thereof, Quarll had made an end of his psalm, and overtook him before he could get to the sea-side, into which he certainly would have cast himself at the fright; but Quarll, who, by the boy's staring, guessed his disorder, not hav|ing the benefit of the language, endeavoured to

calm him by his pleasing countenance, and prevent|ed his drowning himself; but could not keep off a violent fit the fright had occasioned, which held him several minutes.

The fit being over, he and the boy took away at divers times, the remains of the boat, and of what was in it, which they could not carry home the day before: Then taking up two guns, Now, said he, these unlucky instruments, which were intended for destruction, shall be employed for the preserva|tion of that they were to destroy, taking them to his lodge, he sets them at each side of the door; then▪ being dinner time, he strikes a light, and sets the boy to make a fire, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 〈◊〉〈◊〉 made some of the fish fit to fry, which 〈◊〉〈◊〉 〈◊〉〈◊〉 up upon the rock the evening before; then takes dripping, he saved when he roasted any flesh, to fry them with. The boy, who had lived sometime in Holland, where they used much butter, seeing dripping employed in room thereof, thought to please his▪ master in making some; and as he had seen milk and cream in the dairy arbour, wanting a churn only, there being a small rundlet lying by empty, he takes out one of the ends of it, in which, the next day, he beat butter.

Quarll, seeing this youth industrious, begins to fancy him, notwithstanding the aversion he had con|ceived for his nation ever since the ill treatment he had received from his countrymen; and as speech is one of the most necessary faculties to breed and main|tain fellowship, he took pains to teach him English.

The lad, being acute and ingenious▪ was soon made to understand it, and in six months capable to speak it sufficiently, so as to give his master a re|lation of his late coming, and to what intent. The men, said he, who about one year since carried a|way

from hence some antelopes, with extraordinary ducks, and several rarities, which they said belong|ed to a monstrous English Hermit, whose hair and beard covered his whole body, having got a great deal of money by shewing them, encouraged oth|ers to come: whereupon several, joining together, hired a ship to fetch away the hermit, and what else they could find; therefore brought with them tools, and guns, to shoot what they could not take alive. Barbarous wretches! replied he, to kill my dear antelopes and ducks! Pray, what did they intend to do with me! Why, said the boy, to make a shew of you. To make a shew of me! Sordid wretches! Is a Christian then such a rarity amongst them? Well, an•• what were the saws and hatchets for? To cut down your house, which they intended to make a drinking booth of. Oh, monstrous: What time and nature has been fifteen years in complet|ing, they would have ruined in a moment. Well, thanks to Providence, their evil design is averted. Pray, what is become of those sacrilegious persons? They are all drowned, said the boy. Then, replies he, the heavens are satisfied, and I avenged: But how camest thou to escape? for thou wast with them. No, replied the youth, I was upon the rock when their boat was dashed against it, and was overset with the same sea, under the flat-bottomed boat, where you found me. That was a happy overset for thee. Well, is there no gratitude due to Prov|idence for thy escape? Due to Providence! said he, why, I thought you had saved me: I am sure you let me out. Yes, replied Quarll; but I was sent by Providence for that purpose. That was kindly done too, said the boy: Well, when I see him, I will thank him: Doth he live hereabout? Poor ignorant creature! replied Quarll; why Prov|idence

is every where: What didst thou never hear of Providence? What religion art thou of! Reli|gion? answered the youth: I don't know what you mean: I am a fisherman by trade, which my father lived by. Well, said Quarll, did he teach thee nothing else? no prayers? Prayers! replied the lad; why fishermen have no time to pray; that is for them who have nothing else to do: Poor folks must work, and get money; that is the way of our town. Covetous wretches! Well, said he, I grudge them not what they possess, since it is all the happi|ness they aspire at; but thou shalt learn to pray, which will be of far more advantage to thee than work, both here and hereafter: From which time he begins to teach him the Lord's prayer, and the ten commandments; as also the principles of the Christian religion, all which instructions the youth taking readily, won his affection the more: He likewise taught him to sing psalms, which farther qualified him to be his companion in spiritual exer|cises, as well as in temporal occupations.

Now, having company, he is obliged▪ to enlarge his bed, the lodge being wanted for his antelopes against breeding-time: He adds, therefore, to his mats. His other provisions also wanting to be aug|mented, and he having both tools and boards, out of the flat▪ boat which he had taken to pieces! he and the lad went about making large boxes to salt flesh and fish in; then, with the boats that were left, they made a table for his dwelling that he had be|fore, and one for his kitchen; as also shelves in the room of those that were made of wicker: Then, having recruited his shell utensils, that were stolen the year before, he was completely furnished with all manner of conveniences: and Providence sup|plying him daily with other necessaries, there was

no room left him for wishes, but for thanksgiving, which they daily most religiously paid.

In this most happy state they lived in peace and concord the space of ten years, unanimously doing what was to be done, as it lay in each of their ways, without relying on one another.

Quarll, who before, though alone and deprived of society (the principal comfort of life) thought himself blessed, now cannot express his happiness, there being none in the world to be compared to it, heartily praying he may find no alteration until death: But the young man, not having met with so many disappointments in the world as he, had not quite withdrawn his affections from it; his mind sometimes will run upon his native country, where he has left his relations, and where he cannot help wishing to be himself: Thus; an opportunity offer|ing itself one day, as he went to get oysters▪ to make sauce for some fresh cod-fish which Quarll was ••ressing, he saw, at a distance, a ship; at which his heart fell a panting; his pulses double their mo|tion; his blood grows warmer and warmer, till at last, inflamed with a desire of getting at it, he lays down 〈◊〉〈◊〉 bag he brought to put the oysters in, as also the instrument to dredge them up with, and takes to swimming. The men on board, having espied him out, sent their boat to take him up; so he went away without taking his leave of him he had received so much good from; who, having waited a considerable time, fearing some accident would befal him, leaves his cooking, and goes to seek for him; and, being come at the place where he was to get oysters, he sees the bag and instru|ment lie, and nobody with them. Having ••••••ed several times without being answered, various tack|ing fears tortured his mind: Sometimes he doubts

he is fallen in some hole in the rock, there being many near that place where the oysters were: He therefore with his staff, which he always carried with him when he went abroad, at the other side of the rock grabbled in every one round the place; and, feeling nothing, he concludes some sea monster had stolen him away, and, weeping, condemns him|self as the cause of this fatal accident; resolving, for the future, to punish himself by denying his ap|petite; and only eat to support nature, and not to please his palate.

Having given over hopes of getting him again, he returns home in the greatest afflictions, resolving to fast till that time the next day; but, happening to look westward, in which was the point the wind stood, he perceives something like a boat at a great distance: Wiping the tears off his eyes, and look|ing stedfastly, he discovers a ••ail beyond it, which quite altered the motive of his former fear: No monster, said he, hath devoured him; it is too plain a case, that he has villainously left me: But what could I expect of one who had projected such e|vil against me? So saying he went home, and made an end of dressing his dinner! and afterwards hangs up the picture which he had taken down upon his count, being the true emblem of what he deserved; resting himself contented, being but as he was be|fore, and rather better; since he had more conve|niences, and tools to till his ground, and dig up his roots with. Having recommended himself to Prov|idence, he resumes his usual works and recreations, resolving that no cares shall ma•• his happiness for the future, being out of the way of all those irresist|ible temptations with which the world abounds, and daily lays the best mens hopes in the dust.

Being again alone, the whole business of the house lies upon his hands▪ he must now prune and trim his habitation, that daily harbours him, being made of fine-growing plants, which yearly shoot out young branches: This makes them grow out of shape. He must also till the ground; set and gather his peas and beans in their season; milk and feed his antelopes daily; make butter and cheese at proper times; dig up his roots; fetch in fuel and water, when wanted; attend his nets; go eagle nesting; and every day dress his own▪ victuals: All which necessary occu|pations, besides the time dedicated for morning and evening devotions, kept him wholly employed; which made his renewed solitude less irksome. And having walked all that afternoon to divert his tho'ts, admiring all the way▪ the wonderful works of nature, both in the surprizing rocks which surrounded the island, and in the delightful creatures, and admira|ble plants, that are in it; being weary with walking, he returns home, thanking kind Providence, for settling him in▪ so blessed a place, and in his way calls at his invisible choir; where, having sung a thanks|giving psalm, and his usual evening hymn, he goes to supper, and then went to bed, with a thoroughly contented mind, which occasions pleasant dreams to entertain his thoughts.

During his sleep his fancy is delighted with being in nature's garden of pleasure, where none but her friends are permitted to enter.

The place appeared very spacious, and of an ad|mirable form; full of all sorts of nature's works, both animals, vegetables, and minerals every indi|vidual thing in perfection: And though some were distant, yet all appeared as at hand.

The lofty trees, which stood on a level ground, covered with curious grass, enamelled with many different coloured flowers, exceeding in beauty a|ny carpet that the most expert artist could make, spread their branchy arms over creatures of all kinds, which lay beneath their delightful shades: There the bold lion lies by the innocent lamb; the fierce panther near the harmless sheep; the ravenous wolf with the wild goat, leopard and deer, tyger and hare, reposed together in peace; on the trees, eagles, vul|tures, falcons, and hawks, quietly perched with the turtle and the dove.

These most agreeable objects, joined with the delightful noise of the fountains falling into their basons, and the purling streams running their course, together with the various harmonious notes of di|vers kinds of singing birds, put him into a•• ecstasy: Sure, said he, this is the garden of Eden, out of which unfortunate Adam was cast after his fall, as being a dwelling only for innocence.

Having walked a little way, there being on eve|ry side curious lanes, every one affording new ob|jects of admiration, he comes to a walk edged with orange and lemon trees, full of fruit and blossoms, at the foot of which was a narrow bank bordered with jonquils, tuberoses, hyacinths, and other de|lightful flowers, both for sight and smell: At the end of it there was an arbour of the same, but so beautiful, that at first sight he took it for a tapestry the most expert artist had exerted himself in making, to shew the curiosity of trade, and greatness of his skill: In it there sat three ladies of uncommon beauty; the middlemost, who was the lustiest, ap|peared to be the eldest, being of a most sedate coun|tenance, a moderate number of years having both

established her judgment, and settled her features: She, at her right hand, seemed to be of a weaker constitution; she had in her hand an olive branch bearing fruit, which, when gathered was immedi|ately succeeded with blossoms; so that it never was without the one or the other: The lady who sat on the left side, was more jolly and gay, yet looked somewhat careful: She had in her hand a long ves|sel, broad at one end, and sharp at the other, like a horn, bending towards the point, full of all sorts of fruits.

Having stood still a short space of time, looking at those ladies, thinking it ill manners to interrupt their conversation; they, perceiving his modesty would not permit him to advance, rose up, and went another way, to give him the opportunity of view|ing the garden: He accordingly went quite round, till come to the place where he had begun his walk; where he saw a stately cock, of an extraordinary size, strutting from animal to animal, taking from most of them something, whilst they were asleep; which having secured, he falls a crowing in such a loud manner, that he startled all the other creatures; which, being awake, and every one missing some|thing, challenged him with it: But he, having crow|ed a second time, in an insulting and daring man|ner strutted most haughtily away; at which the los|ers being much offended, consulted together on means to retake by force, what he had in so clan|destine a manner, taken from them; choosing the ••ion for their director: But the watchful cock, which, whilst they were indulging themselves, care|fully made provision to maintain what he had done, bid them all defiance. There happening a great noise of squ••eling, it waked him out of his dream;

and his mind being pressed with notions of 〈◊〉〈◊〉, it at first seized him with terror: But being somewhat settled, and the noise still continuing, he perceived it proceeded from the two different kinds of mon|kies in the island, which were fighting for the wild pomegranates that the high wind had s••ook off the trees the preceding night, which was very boisterous.

Having guessed the occasion of their debate, he gets up, in order to go and quell their difference, by dividing amongst them the cause thereof. Get|ting up, he opens the door, at the outside of which, an old monkey of each sort were quietly waiting his levee, to entice him to come, as he once before did, and put an end to their bloody war. He was not a little surprized to see two such inveterate en|emies, who at other times never meet without fight|ing, at that juncture agree so well. That most sur|prizing sign of reason in those brutes, which, know|ing his decision would compose their comrades dif|ference, came to implore it, put him upon these re|flections: Would princes, said he, be but reasona|ble, as those which by Nature are irrational, how much blood and money would be saved! Having admired the uneasiness of those poor creatures, who still went a few steps forward, and then backward to him; he was in hopes to decoy one or both into his lodge, by throwing meat to them: But those ex|emplary animals, hearing their fellows in trouble, had no regard to their separate interest, taking no notice of what he gave them; but kept moving to and again with all the tokens of uneasiness they could express: Which so moved him that he has|tened to the place; where his presence caused im|mediately a cessation of arms, and each party mov|ed

a considerable distance off each other, waiting his sharing the wind falls; which being done, they quietly took that heap which lay next each kind, and went to their different quarters.

Fourteen years more being past, every thing keeping its natural course, there happened nothing extraordinary, each succeeding year renewing the pleasures the preceding had produced: Thunders and high winds being frequent, though not equally violent, he thought it not material to record them, or their effects, as blowing and throwing fishes, shells, empty vessels, battered chests, &c. upon the rock; on|ly transactions and events wonderful and uncom|mon: And there happened a most surprizing one a few days after, which though of no great moment, is as worthy of record as any of far greater concern; being a wonderful effect of Providence, manifested in a miraculous manner, though not to be said su|pernatural.

One morning, when he had roasted a parcel of those roots which he used to eat instead of bread, and this he commonly did once a week, it eating best when stale; having spread them on his table and chest to cool, he went out to walk, leaving his door open to let the air in. His walk, though grac|ed with all the agreeableness nature could adorn it with, to make it delightful; a grass carpet, embroi|dered with beautiful flowers, of many different co|lours and smells, under his feet, to tread on, before, and on each side of him fine lofty trees, of various forms and heights, clothed with pleasant green leaves, trimmed with rich blossoms of many colours, to divert his eye; a number of various sorts of me|lodious singing birds perching in their most lovely shades, as though nature had studied to excel man's

brightest imagination, and exquisiteness of art:—Yet all these profusenesses of nature's wonders are not sufficient to keep away or expel anxious tho'ts from his mind. It runs upon his two dear antelopes, the darling heads of his present stock, which he took such care to bring up, and were become so engag|ing, always attending him in those fine walks; ad|ding, by their swift races, active leapings, and oth|er uncommon diversions, to the natural plea|santness of the place; which now, by their most lamented absence is become a dull memoran|dum of the barbarous manner in which they were ravished away from him. In these melancholy thoughts which his lonesomeness every now and then created, he returns home, where Providence had left a remedy for his grievance: A companion, far exceeding any he ever had, waits his return; which was, a beautiful monkey of the finest kind, and the most complete of the sort, as though made to manifest the unparalleled skill of nature, is sent him by Providence, to dissipate his melancholy.

Being come to his lodge, and beholding that wonderful creature and in his own possession, at the farthest end of it, and him at the entrance there|of to oppose its slight, if offered, he is at once fill|ed with joy and admiration: Long, said he, I have endeavoured in vain to get one, and would have been glad of any, though of the worst kind, and e|ven of the meanest of the sort; and here kind Pro|vidence has sent me one of an unparalleled beauty.

Having a considerable time admired the beast, which all the while stood unconcerned, now & then eating of the roots that lay before him, he shuts the door, and goes in, with a resolution of staying with|in all day, in order to tame him, which he hoped

would be no difficult matter, his disposition being already pretty familiar, little thinking that Provi|dence, who sent him thither, had already qualified him for the commission he bore; which having found out by the creature's surprising docility, he returns his benefactor his most hearty thanks for that miraculous gift.

This most wonderful animal having, by its sur|prising tractability, and good-nature, joined to its matchless handsomeness, gained its master's love beyond what is usual to place on any sort of beasts; he thought himself doubly recompensed for all his former losses, especially for that of his late ungrateful companion, who, notwithstanding all the obligations he held from him, basely left him, at a time he might be most helpful: And, as he fancied his dear Beaufidelle (for so he called that admirable creature) had some sort of resem|blance to the picture he framed of him, he takes it down, thinking it unjust to bear in his sight that vile object which could not in any wise claim a likeness to so worthy a creature as his beloved monkey.

One day, as this lovely animal was officiating the charge it had of its own accord taken, being gone for wood, as wont to do when wanted, he finds in his way a wild pomegranate, whose extraordinary size and weight had caused it to fall off the tree; he takes it home, and then returns for his faggot; in which time Quarll, wishing the goodness of the inside might answer its outward beauty, cuts it o|pen; and, finding it of a dull luciousness, too flat for eating, imagined it might be used with things of an acid and sharp taste: Having therefore boiled some water, he puts it into a vessel, with a sort of

an herb which is of the taste and nature of cresses, and some of the pomegranate, letting them infuse some time, now and then stirring it; which the monkey having taken notice of, did the same: But one very hot day, happening to lay the vessel in the sun, made it turn sour.

Quarll, who very much wanted vinegar, in his sauces, was well pleased with the accident, and so continued the souring of the liquor, which proving excellent, he made a five gallon vessel of it; hav|ing several, which at times he found upon the rock.

Having now store of vinegar, and being a great lover of pickles, which he had learnt to make by seeing his last wife, who was an extraordinary cook, and made of all sorts every year; calling to mind he had often in his walks seen something like mush|rooms, he makes it his business to look for some: Thus he picked up a few, of which Beaufidelle (who followed him up and down) having taken no|tice, immediately ranges about; and being nimbler|footed than his master, and not obliged to stoop so low, picked double the quantity in the same space of time; so that he soon had enough to serve him till the next season.

His good success in making that sort of pickle; encourages him to try another; and, having taken notice of a plant in the wood that bears a small green flower, which, before it is blown, looks like a caper, he gathers a few; and, their taste and fla|vour being no way disagreeable, judging that, when pickled they would be pleasant, he tries them, which according to his mind, were full as good as the real ones, and gathers a sufficient quantity, with the help of his attendant; stocking himself with two pleas|ant pickles of different sorts: but there is another

which he admires above all: None, to his mind, like a cucumber; and the island producing none, left him no room to hope for any; yet (as likeness is a vast help to imagination) if he could but find any thing, which ever so little resembles them in make, nature, or taste, it will please his fancy: He therefore examines every kind of buds, blossoms, and seeds; having at last found that of a wild pars|nip, which being long and narrow, almost the big|ness and make of a pickling cucumber, green and crisp withal, full of small flat seeds, not unlike that of the thing he would have it to be, he pickles some of them; which being of a colour, and near upon the make he fancies them quite of the taste.

His beans being at that time large enough for the first crop, he gathers some for his dinner: The shells being tender and of a delicate green, it came into his mind, they might be made to imitate French beans: They are, said he, near the nature, I can make them quite of the shape, so be they have the same flavour. Accordingly, he cuts them in long narrow slips, and pickles some; the other part he boils; and there being none to contradict their taste, they passed current, for as good French beans as any that ever grew.

The disappointment of having something more comfortable than water to drink being retrieved by producing, in the room thereof, wherewithal to make his eatables more delicious, he proceeds in his first project; and, taking necessary care to prevent that accident which intercepted success in his first undertaking, he accomplishes his design, and makes a liquor no ways inferior to the best cy|der: So that now he has both to revive and keep up his spirits, as well as to please his palate, and suit his appetite.

Having now nothing to crave or wish for, but rather all motives for content, he lies down with a peaceable mind, no care or fear disturbing his thoughts: His sleep is not interrupted with fright|ful fancies, but rather diverted with pleasant and diverting dreams; he is not startled at thunder or storms, though ever so terrible, his trust being on Providence, who at sundry times, and in various manners, has rescued him from death, though ap|parently unavoidable; being for above thirty years miraculously protected and maintained in a place so remote from all human help and assistance.

Yet, notwithstanding, his firmness, and whole trust on Providence, he is obliged to give way to the weakness of his nature; a strange and shocking noise is heard at a distance in the air, which, having reached the place where he stood, covers it with darkness for several minutes; at which he is so alarmed that he thinks himself past all hopes; till the noise being ceased, and that which intercept|ed the light dispersed, his scared senses returning to their proper seat, and his strayed reason recalled, he is ashamed of the weakness of his faith, and begs pardon for his late mistrust of the continuation of Providence's protection, who had all along giv|en him all imaginable reason to depend on it at all times: Thus, having opened his door, he steps out to see if he could discover the cause of the late most surprising and sudden darkness, in a bright sun shining day, which having found out by the vast numbers of dead birds of several kinds, lying up and down the ground, he was seized with to small amazement, though with less fear.

From that most surprising aspect he infers, there had been a battle of those creatures in the air, the

great number of which had occasioned the late de|crease.

Having made reflections upon that astonishing transaction, he can draw from thence no other in|ference, but a prognostication of dreadful wars in Europe, from which he begs Heaven to protect his native country: And lest the dead birds, that lay in great numbers, should (with lying) infect the isl|and, he and his monkey carried them to the other side of the rock, throwing them into the sea; only as many of them as had soft feathers on their breast and bellies, he plucked away, to stuff a pillow for the beast, being a little too hot at night for it to lie upon the bed. So having cleared the place and being tired with often going up and down the rugged rock, he stayed at home the remainder of the day, and at night goes to bed; but, as the late omen of approaching evil had pre-occupied his thoughts in the day with cares concerning his coun|try, his mind ran upon it in the night; dreaming he sees wives weeping, and melting into tears, tak|ing their leaves of their indulgent husbands! hang|ing destitute of strength, about their necks, whose grief weighed them to the ground. Turning from that afflicting object, he sees another as shocking; the old father, bathed in tears, embracing his only son, bidding him farewell, and, with him, all the comforts of this life, and support of his age. Mov|ing his eyes from that, they light on full as bad a sight; the tender mother swooning in her dear child's arms, whom an inexorable press-gang is hawling away. Thus every face expressing grief for a relation, or a friend, nor being able any lon|ger to behold those terrifying objects, with which the town abounded, he betakes himself to the coun|try

that, by keeping from the afflicted, he may a|void grief.

Having quitted the town he finds himself, on a sudden, in a place as full of terrors, where he saw streams of re••king blood here and there; loose hor|ses kicking and prancing about; some dragging their late riders by the stirrups; others wounded, and their guts hanging about: at a distance, crowds of men in flame and smoak, confusedly moving like heaps of dust in a whirlwind, leaving behind them, as they moved, vast numbers of men and horses, both dead and dying; some without legs, others without arms, and abundance with but one of each.

At a distance from them, some in pursuit of their enemies, hacking and cutting them down all the way before them, like wood for fuel; others, flying from being slain cast themselves into rapid rivers, where they perish by thousands.

As he was looking at those terrible objects, he finds himself on a sudden surrounded by rustical soldiers, holding their swords and bayonets to his breast, and asking him, in a surly manner, who he was for? at which being very much started, not knowing what to answer, nor, indeed, what they meant; he told them, he was an Englishman; which they appearing to be also, made him hope for better usage: But they seized him in a violent manner, said, he might be English, and yet an ene|my to the country. Then he awaked, in a wonder|ful fright; but, being come to himself, he con|cludes, that his dream proceeded from his late sur|prise at the preceding days astonishing transac|tions: Therefore, having again recommended his country to Heaven's protection, he goes about making the bed for his monkey, as he had con|cluded

on before, and with some sail cloth makes a case, stuffing it with the feathers he had saved for that purpose.

The night being come, he lays the couching, which he made for the beast, by his own bed; which very readily went to it, being very soft and easy.

And, as cares for his country had in the day oc|cupied his thoughts, his mind in the night is impres|sed with the subject though not with so dismal an idea as the preceding; having since been diverted with such objects as removed the terrifying aspects, which before offered themselves to his imagination; which now is taken up with being in St. James' Park, where he had formerly taken pleasure, and which he fancies had since lost many of its former agreea|bleness.

As he was walking, a report was raised, that a certan great person (who, by his late great services to the nation had gained a title to the palace) was just deceased: having before his death, intailed the same upon a foreign prince of great renown: This surprizing piece of news occasioned a sudden alter|ation in every body's countenance: Some looked pale with grief, others red with wrath; but every thing in nature seemed to express a feeling for the loss; the trees shed half their virtues, and the grass withered.

This dull scene having lasted some small time, the trees and grass recover their former verdure, brighter than before; the lofty oaks, which he fancied bordered the mall, bore fine roses in vast number.

This additional beauty in those noble plants, already so famed abroad for their toughness and

strength, prompts people of all nations to come and refresh themselves under their lofty and fragrant shades.

Having with great satisfaction admired the surpri|sing improvement of the oaks, which to his ima|gination, prognosticated prosperity to the nation, he walks on northward, where he saw abundance of thistles, which made him wonder they were per|mitted to grow in a place where every thing ought to contribute to its agreeableness and pleasantness; but having considered the stoutness of the plants, which denoted their being well rooted, he judged it impossible to clear the ground: Besides, the bees loving to settle on them, and probably sucking more honey from their blossoms than any more agreeable or sweet scented flower; for that reason, he imagin|ed they were not gathered.

Walking back again, he meets with several no|blemen, some with a blue cardoon, others with green, each with a gardening tool in his hand go|ing to turn up and till the ground, between that where the thistles grew, and that where the oaks stood: He was startled to see those great persons, who hardly will concern themselves with their own lands and possessions, labour to improve that where|in every private person had a share. He stood some time admiring their dexterity, and readiness at their work; then walks on to the mall, which he found thronged with a multitude of people of all nations, every one having a rose in his hand, where|with they diverted themselves as they walked.

Having gazed about him a considerable time, he had a fancy to go and see how the noble garden|ers went on with their work; where, being come, he finds, to his great admiration, the ground had been

so wonderfully well manured, that the oaks and thistles had struck their roots through it, and met; so growing together, had produced a plant which bore both roses and thistles, to every body's won|der; which made the thistles so valued ever since, that there are but few great or sine gardens, which have not more or less of them.

His monkey, being startled out of his sleep in a mighty fright, ran behind his back squeaking, and awaked him in the midst of his amazement; being exceedingly pleased with his late dream, of which he conceived a mighty good omen to Old England, differing so very much from the preceding both in nature and signification.

Thus, though earlier than he usually rose, he gets up to set it down, whilst fresh in his mind, and also the year; then takes a walk before breakfast, and the beast with him; which being not yet recovered of its late fright, keeps close to his master, every now and then looking behind, as though still afraid; at which Quarll concludes the creature must needs have been disturbed in its sleep the night before, with some frightful dream; which made him wonder, that an animal voi•• of reason, and incapable of reflection, should be susceptible of imagination.

The day being passed without any extraordinary occurrence, he made no farther remark, but follow|ed his usual occupation, and then went to his rest; and the monkey to his new bed, as the night be|fore, which he took care to draw as close to his master as he could; then having been twice or thrice about the room, examining every corner, he lies down, and sleeps quietly till the dawning of the morning: at which time he starts up again, as the night before.

Quarll, being a second time awaked in the same manner, and much about the same hour, concludes the cause much proceed from the pillow, and re|solves to try it himself the next night; at which time crowds of terrifying aspects appear in his imagina|tion, which allure his whole faculties, and set all his senses in an uproar; his eyes are taken up with frightful objects, and his ears filled with a terrible noise; at which the rest of his senses have lost their offices, and are become useless.

Being awaked the next morning, he finds him|self inclined to believe, that the pillow had really some influence on his imagination; but as one night's experience was not a sufficient solution to his inquiry into that supernatural operation, having often dreamed before he used the pillow; he resolves to try it several rights successively; during which, his monkey slept very quiet, and he much disturb|ed. This works a great 〈◊〉〈◊〉 towards the per|suasion of what he had a strong fancy to believe.—Yet, to be better satisfied of the reality of it, he lays by the pillow for three or four nights together; dur|ing which time, both he and the beast slept very quietly.

This added much to his opinion, that evil efflu|via issued out of those feathers the pillow was stuff|ed with; but as he formerly dreamed, and had ma|ny nights intermission between those that were en|tertained with dreams, he will once more try it, be|fore he concludes that it is so; thus puts it again under his head that night; and, as it was the last experi|ment, it proved also the most troublesome, he being at that time terrified with more shocking objects than the preceding; which, though they represent fierce and bloody battles to his imagination, yet were less

terrible to him; having not, as yet, discerned his native country engaged therein, whom now he finds to be the principal party concerned, on which all success depends, and which cannot be strove for without vast expenses, and irretrievable loss of his dear countrymen; for which his heart bled as plen|tifully as for those whom he dreamed he saw in their gore.

Having with terror and grief fatigued his eyes with the most shocking and afflicting effects of war, men and horses lying as thick upon the ground as grass in a meadow, and streams of blood running like so many brooks supplied by a strong spring; he lists up his eyes to heaven, imploring an end to that execrable devourer of mankind.

And whilst his eyes were still fixed to the heav|ens, he sees victory rushing through thick clouds of obstacles approaching to her; which having over|come, she settled over the army his countrymen belonged to, over whose head she shook and flour|ished her colours, pointing at approaching peace, attended with plenty; but on a sudden there arose an infectious mist out of the ground, which cramp|ing the Englishmens hands, that they could no more use their conquering arms; this fatal accident hav|ing both encouraged and strengthened the enemy, they sell on the unfortunate remains of the army, with unmerciful fury; who, now having lost all their support and dependence, were most cruelly cut to pieces; at which most dismal and afflicting object he awaked: And though this dream was a sufficient proof of the feathers influence, yet he cannot be satisfied but it must be ominous, having so much relation to the preceding; therefore sets it down with them; and, for a more certain conviction of

what he had all cause imaginable to believe, he is resolved to try his monkey once more, the night following: But the beast, who had not yet forgot the uneasiness that the bed had caused him, chose to lie on the ground; which entirely convinced Quarll, that there was a malignant quality in those feathers: Wherefore he throws them into the sea, and fills the case with a sort of a soft moss, which grew at the bottom of a particular tree, on which the creature lay very quiet ever after.

And as yearly stripping the eagles of their eggs, had prevented their increase, it also favoured and advanced that of the creatures in the island, on whose young they fed; so that the number of the wild monkies being considerably augmented, made their food scant, which caused them now and then to come and steal somewhat out of Quarll's ground. Beaufidelle, whose good keeping and warm lying had made him thrive in bigness and strength exceeding his kind, finding some of them stealing his master's roots, beat them away; which obliged those subtle creatures to come several to|gether, the better to be able to encounter him; which Quarll having taken notice of and being will|ing to add a new sport to his usual diversions, cuts a stick of the length and bigness that the creature could manage, which he gave him; and, taking his own staff, exercises it before him, which he did the same with his; and, apprehending what use it was given him for, he had it often in his hands, and with it drove away the others, when they came, though ten or a dozen together; so that the roots were ve|ry well gun••••ed, by his continual watching; which made those 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and spiteful creatures watch an op|portunity 〈◊〉〈◊〉 take him at a disadvantage: Thus

finding him one morning, as he was going for wa|ter by himself, as he was w••nt to do, and being then without his staff, of which they stood in great fear, a considerable number fell upon him, and so bit and beat him, that he lay as dead; but his mas|ter appearing, who, being uneasy at his extraordi|nary stay, was gone to see what was the occasion thereof, put them to the flight; and they left the poor creature with just breath enough to keep its life in, and scarce strength sufficient to draw it.

Quarll, being come to the place where his be|loved Beaufidelle lay in a most dismal bloody con|dition, could not forbear shedding tears to see him thus miserably dying; but finding still breath in him, it gave him hopes of his recovery: And tak|ing him up in his arms with all the care he could, he hastens home, and gives him a little of the li|quor he had made, which by that time had got both body and spirit; then having laid him upon his bed, and covered him with his winter wrapper, he makes a fire and warms some of the said liquor, and fresh butter, wherewith he washes his sores; so lays him down again, giving him all the careful attendance he could, during his illness, which held but one week; at the end of which he died, to his unspeakable grief; who, from that time, grew so melancholy, that he had not courage to go on with his memorial; till having a most remarkable dream about twelve months after, be changed his resolu|tion, and proceeded in his memoirs: And as he set down his dream, he also did the death of his belov|ed beast, it happening near the same time.

Having spent the year but dully, for want of his diverting company at home; to put this as much

out of his mind as he could, he walked the spare hours he had left from his usual occupation. Thus being one day somewhat fatigued, having lost his wonted alacrity, he sat down under the next cluster of trees he came at; and being in a dull disposition, was soon lulled to sleep by the lonesome note of a certain sort of melancholy bird, which shuns others company (though of its own kind) at all times but in breeding time; which, having placed itself in the thickest and shadiest part of the grove, where Quarll had made choice to lie, falls a singing his melancholy notes; which being suitable to his dis|position of both body and mind, soon lulled him to sleep; during which he dreamed, that he saw an old man sitting in a large circle, around which all the signs of the zodiac were, and the old gentleman appeared extremely busy, stringing of small beads, some white and some black, and, when he had strung a certain number, he began another string, and so on. He had the curiosity to tell how many he put on a string, so keeps an account of the next he did begin, and tells just sixty: Having made as many of those strings as there were beads in each, he puts them together, and begins again to string, mixing white and black as they came to his hand, twisting every sixtieth string in parcels, till he had made sixty of them, which he neatly plaits together, proceeding as from the beginning, and makes twenty four of those plaits, which he weaves together, making a slat piece of bead work, change|able upon black, which, when looked upon one way, seemed pleasant; and, being seen from anoth|er, as disagreeable. He worked on till he had made, three hundred and sixty-five such pieces, then lays them up in a bundle, and goes to work again, beginning to string as at first.

Having looked himself weary with seeing still the same, of which he could make nothing he goes away leaving the old gentleman stringing his beads; who seeing him go, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 by his work and follows him, and having overtaken him, asked him, what he had been looking at all that time? He, being surprised at the surly question, modestly re|plies, he had been admiring his work; in doing which he hoped there was no offence. No said the old man, provided thou learnest something by what thou hast seen. To which he answered, it was impossible for him to learn such a mysterious business, with once seeing it done; so much less, being entirely a stranger to it. A stranger to it art thou? replied the old man, in a surly manner: and hast wasted so much of my work! I am Time; whom thou hast often ill used; and those white and black beads that thou hast seen me string a•••• good and bad moments, I croud into minutes, which I link into hours; thus weave days, where|with years are composed. Thou hast seen me com|plete the present year. I tell thee before the ensu|ing is ended, I will grace the British throne with an illustrious race to the end of reigns; so vanish|ed. Then he awaked in a great surprise, and goes home, pondering on his dream; of which he infer|red, that if there be any signification in the roving conceptions of the mind, this must prognosticate the speedy accession of some great monarch upon the English throne: So sets down in his memorial his dream, heartily wishing the accomplishment thereof, for the quiet and prosperity of his dear country.

There happening nothing after, for the space of four years, but great thunders and lightnings in

the summer, and abundance of hail and snow in the winter, with now and then storms, which left several sorts of fishes in the clists and holes of the rocks, and sometimes fragments of staved ships, and battered casks, or broken chests, with a plank, and such like products of shipwrecks, not worth recording: By which means, for want of employ|ment, he has several idle and sul••en hours in the day-time, which his late beloved animal's diverting company made him slip away with pleasure, and for want of which they now creep slowly on; be|ing loaded with dull and heavy thoughts, which made those walks irksome, he at that time took for ease; that by the diversity of objects abroad, his mind might be withdrawn from his a••xious soli|tude.

Having one day perused his memorial as he commonly did once a-year, the dream he had, wherein Time predicted such great happiness to his country, made such an impression on his mind, that he always thought of it. Accordingly, being walk|ing, and the day proving extraordinary hot, he goes to shelter himself in one of his natural groves; where, having laid himself down on the grass, he was soon lulled asleep: during which the idea he had conceived of his former dream represented to his imagination a most majestic and graceful mon|arch, sitting on a magnificent throne, round which stood many delightful olive plants which much ad|ded to his lustre.

Having, with a great deal of pleasure, gazed at the most graceful countenance of the king, which denoted justice, equity, love, and clemency; he gave Heaven thanks for the mighty blessing bestow|ed on his country. Coming away, in order to re|turn

to this island, with this additional happiness to the many he already enjoyed.

Being come from court, on his journey he meets the same old gentleman of whom he dreamed the year before; who, taking him by the hand, said, I find thou hast been to see the accomplishment of my prediction: Now I will tell thee more.

Ere one thousand, eight hundred and twenty is written, All divisions, remember, will cease in Great Britain.

Next, I will shew thee what I have done to se|cure the accomplishment of my prophecy: Then takes him to a high place, from whence he could see into all the cabinets of all the princes in Europe; in several of which, he took notice, lay a vast heap of rich and costly things, but confused, shapeless, and fit for no use: Now, said the old man to him, these are disappointments, and defeated projects, made to intercept what I determined; then vanish|ed; At which he awaked, exceeding glad to find himself safe in his blessed island, and wonderfully pleased with his dream, which betokens so much good to his dear country. This was the conclusion of his record.

ED. DORRINGTON.

FINIS

Notes

• * 2.1

  The lines marked with (") are set down word for word with his memoirs, for these reasons, 1. I thought it a pity to alter any thing from his notions of the pleasures of a country life. 2. And the rather, be|cause it gives us very lively ideas of the perfect happiness be enjoys in 〈◊〉〈◊〉 solitude.
• * 5.1

  Left the reader should think, these and the following verses to be the effect of my own brain, I solemnly protest, they are what I found in 〈…〉〈…〉, written with his own hand.