"Not all of them," said Daly; "no; I believe I got off pretty well, but evidently the worse for wear; for, Teneriffe or not Teneriffe, it is my maxim to stick to the wreck as long as she floats, and as long as I could get anybody to sit, I staid; the curate and the boy with the frill went with the ladies, but Bagswash and the parish Paracelsus remained. However, at last, seeing all the bottles empty, and no disposition on the part of Baggy to replenish, I made a move, and never did I see a man more happy at having got out of a scrape than mine host. He sent his kindest regards to the Wrigglesworths—hoped to see me soon again—did I know my road home? In short, I cannot enumerate the civilities he heaped upon me, which, considering his respect for my friend Sir Marmaduke, and the fact of his having nine unmarried daughters, I duly appreciated, and forthwith bent my way homewards."
"Glad, I should think," said I, "to be safe out."
"On the contrary," said Daly, "I should like to have remained where I was; if it had not been for the anger of the respectable cat-of-nine-tails about the Teneriffe, it would have been a very agreeable domicile. However, once started, onwards I went, rejecting, indignantly, the offer of Bagswash to send a man to show me the way;—nothing I hate so much; as if a man who had followed his nose into a place could not follow his nose out of it."
"I trust," said I, "that your intrepidity was crowned with success?"
"Rather crippled," replied Daly, "as you shall hear; however, there are two ends to my story, or, rather, a story and a sequel."
"Pray go on," said I, knowing that so long as his breath lasted, his tongue would wag, as a cherry-clapper does while the wind blows.
"Gad, sir," said he, "I walked off—I admit the Teneriffe to have been potent—and I thought of one thing, and another thing, and I believe I thought of all the things in the world, except the way which I was going. They say, you know, some men have every sense but common sense—my case to a hair. Common sense is like flour; the other sort of sense is like sugar and gilding, and all the rest of those things—beautiful to adorn a cake and embellish the pâtisserie, but, without the flour, mere ornaments; now, without the ornaments, the flour will make bread. I never had the flour—never shall have. So you perceive that the sugar and the flummery being my staple, on I went and went, until I began to think I had missed my way, and just then I found myself stopped by a gate opening into—or, rather, shutting me out of—a remarkably well-stocked farm-yard—ricks, stacks, stables, barns—everything comfortable and convenient; with half a million cocks and hens, walking about like ladies and gentlemen, all as happy as happy could be. Over the gate I stepped, waded my way through the straw, and, leaning over the hatch of one of his outhouses, who should I see but the farmer himself. As I advanced, he touched his hat, and civilly asked whether I had had much sport?
"'Not much,' said I, recollecting that the whole contents of my bag now amounted to one elderly rabbit, with a Cape tail; 'I am on my way to Wrigglesworth, and out of it, too, as I think. How far have I to go?'
"'Seven miles, I count,' said the farmer. 'You are coming right away from it, sir. Wrigglesworth lies over there, on your left.'
"'Thank you,' said I, 'thank you. If you will just give me a sort of concise direction,—I am a dab at topography. Merely give me the points, and I'll go across a country I never saw in my life before.'