drew him up, so that we got him in again. His
ducking sobered him a little, and he went to sleep, taking first out
of his pocket a book, which he desir'd I would dry for him. It proved
to be my old favorite author, Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, in Dutch,
finely printed on good paper, with copper cuts, a dress better than I
had ever seen it wear in its own language. I have since found that it
has been translated into most of the languages of Europe, and suppose
it has been more generally read than any other book, except perhaps
the Bible. Honest John was the first that I know of who mix'd
narration and dialogue; a method of writing very engaging to the
reader, who in the most interesting parts finds himself, as it were,
brought into the company and present at the discourse. De Foe in his
Cruso, his Moll Flanders, Religious Courtship, Family Instructor, and
other pieces, has imitated it with success; and Richardson[26] has done
the same in his Pamela, etc.

[25] Kill van Kull, the channel separating Staten Island
from New Jersey on the north.

[26] Samuel Richardson, the father of the English novel,
wrote _Pamela_, _Clarissa Harlowe_, and the _History of
Sir Charles Grandison_, novels published in the form of
letters.

When we drew near the island, we found it was at a place where there
could be no landing, there being a great surff on the stony beach. So
we dropt anchor, and swung round towards the shore. Some people came
down to the water edge and hallow'd to us, as we did to them; but the
wind was so high, and the surff so loud, that we could not hear so as
to understand each other. There were canoes on the shore, and we made
signs, and hallow'd that they should fetch us; but they either did not
understand us, or thought it impracticable, so they went away, and
night coming on, we had no remedy but to wait till the wind should
abate; and, in the meantime, the boatman and I concluded to sleep, if
we could; and so crowded into the scuttle, with the Dutchman, who was
still wet, and the spray beating over the head of our boat, leak'd
thro' to us, so that we were soon almost as wet as he. In this manner
we lay all night, with very little rest; but, the wind abating the
next day, we made a shift to reach Amboy before night, having been
thirty hours on the water, without victuals, or any drink but a bottle
of filthy rum, and the water we sail'd on being salt.

In the evening I found myself very fev