Caution and tenderness, Mr. Morgan, will be absolutely necessary.
But where is my hat?—where is my wig?—have I thrown them into the pond?
It is well the poor distress'd man recollected he had them not; or, bare-headed as he was, I should have gone with him to the house.—I pick'd them up, all over dirt; and, well as I could, clean'd them with my handkerchief.
Now, Sir, said I, if you will wipe your face,—for the sweat was standing on it in large drops,—I am ready to attend you.
So I must really go in, captain.—I don't think I can stand it;—you had better go without me.—Upon my soul, I had sooner face the mouth of a cannon—If you would blow my brains out, it would be the kindest thing you ever did in your life.
Poh! don't talk at this rate, Sir.—Do we live only for ourselves?—
But will you not leave us, captain;—will you not run from us, when all is out?
Rather, Sir, suspect me of cowardice.—I should receive greater satisfaction from administering the smallest consolation to people in distress, than from whole nations govern'd by my nod.
Well, captain, I will go;—I will do any thing you desire me, since you are so good to say you will not leave us.
But, notwithstanding his fair promise, I never expected to get him within the doors.—He was shifting from side to side:—sometimes he would stand still,—sometimes attempt to retreat.—When we were just at the house, a servant appear'd:—of whom he enquir'd, if Mr. and Mrs. Powis were return'd; and was inform'd the latter was within;—the former gone out in pursuit of us. We likewise found the Ladies were with Sir James in the library. I sent in my name: it was in vain for me to expect any introduction from my companion.