nk into apparent meditation. I was at a loss whether
to retire or remain where I was. At last, however, I was on the point of
leaving the room, when he broke silence and began a conversation with
me.

He put questions to me, the obvious scope of which was to know my
sentiments on moral topics. I had no motives to conceal my opinions, and
therefore delivered them with frankness. At length he introduced
allusions to my own history, and made more particular inquiries on that
head. Here I was not equally frank; yet I did not feign any thing, but
merely dealt in generals. I had acquired notions of propriety on this
head, perhaps somewhat fastidious. Minute details, respecting our own
concerns, are apt to weary all but the narrator himself. I said thus
much, and the truth of my remark was eagerly assented to.

With some marks of hesitation and after various preliminaries, my
companion hinted that my own interest, as well as his, enjoined upon me
silence to all but himself, on the subject of my birth and early
adventures. It was not likely that, while in his service, my circle of
acquaintance would be large or my intercourse with the world frequent;
but in my communication with others he requested me to speak rather of
others than of myself. This request, he said, might appear singular to
me, but he had his reasons for making it, which it was not necessary, at
present, to disclose, though, when I should know them, I should readily
acknowledge their validity.

I scarcely knew what answer to make. I was willing to oblige him. I was
far from expecting that any exigence would occur, making disclosure my
duty. The employment was productive of pain more than of pleasure, and
the curiosity that would uselessly seek a knowledge of my past life was
no less impertinent than the loquacity that would uselessly communicate
that knowledge. I readily promised, therefore, to adhere to his advice.

This assurance afforded him evident satisfaction; yet it did not seem to
amount to quite as much as he wished. He repeated, in stronger terms,
the necessity there was for caution. He was far from suspecting me to
possess an impertinent and talkative disposition, or that, in my
eagerness to expatiate on my own concerns, I should overstep the limits
of politeness. But this was not enough. I was to govern myself by a
persuasion that the interests of my friend and myself would be
materially affected by my conduct.

Perhaps I ought to have allowed t