Adol. O most merciful Sea! O most generous Sea! O most rich Sea! O most beautiful Sea, be pacified, save us; and a Deal of such Stuff they sung to the deaf Ocean.
Ant. Ridiculous Superstition! What did the rest do?
Adol. Some did nothing but spew, and some made Vows. There was an Englishman there, that promis'd golden Mountains to our Lady of Walsingham, so he did but get ashore alive. Others promis'd a great many Things to the Wood of the Cross, which was in such a Place; others again, to that which was in such a Place; and the same was done by the Virgin Mary, which reigns in a great many Places, and they think the Vow is of no Effect, unless the Place be mentioned.
Ant. Ridiculous! As if the Saints did not dwell in Heaven.
Adol. Some made Promises to become Carthusians. There was one who promised he would go a Pilgrimage to St. James at Compostella, bare Foot and bare Head, cloth'd in a Coat of Mail, and begging his Bread all the Way.
Ant. Did no Body make any Mention of St. Christopher?
Adol. Yes, I heard one, and I could not forbear laughing, who bawling out aloud, lest St. Christopher should not hear him, promised him, who is at the Top of a Church at Paris, rather a Mountain than a Statue, a wax Taper as big as he was himself: When he had bawl'd out this over and over as loud as he could, an Acquaintance of his jogg'd him on the Elbow, and caution'd him: Have a Care what you promise, for if you should sell all you have in the World, you will not be able to pay for it. He answer'd him softly, lest St. Christopher should hear him, you Fool, says he, do you think I mean as I speak, if I once got safe to Shore, I would not give him so much as a tallow Candle.
Ant. O Blockhead! I fancy he was a Hollander.
Adol. No, he was a Zealander.
Ant. I wonder no Body thought of St. Paul, who has been at Sea, and having suffered Shipwreck, leapt on Shore. For he being not unacquainted with the Distress, knows how to pity those that are in it.