fellow-travellers in the dark. Strap
following, with the knapsack on his back, chanced to take the other
side, and, by a jolt of the carriage, pitched directly upon the stomach
of the captain, who bellowed out, in a most dreadful manner, "Blood and
thunder! where's my sword?" At these words my frighted comrade started
up, and, at one spring, bounced against me with such force that I
thought he was the supposed son of Anak, who intended to press me to
death. In the meantime a female voice cried, "Bless me! what is the
matter, my dear?" "The matter," replied the captain, "d--n my blood!
my guts are squeezed into a pancake by that Scotchman's hump." Strap,
trembling all the while at my back, asked him pardon, and laid the blame
of what had happened upon the jolting of the waggon; and the woman who
spoke before went on: "Ay, ay, my dear, it is our own fault; we may
thank ourselves for all the inconveniences we meet with. I thank God I
never travelled so before. I am sure if my lady or Sir John were to know
where we are they would not sleep this night for vexation. I wish to God
we had writ for the chariot; I know we shall never be forgiven." "Come,
come, my dear," replied the captain, "it don't signify fretting now;
we shall laugh it over as a frolic; I hope you will not suffer in your
health. I shall make my lord very merry with our adventures in this
diligence."

The discourse gave me such a high notion of the captain and his lady
that I durst not venture to join in the conversation; but immediately
after another female voice began: "Some people give themselves a great
many needless airs; better folks than any here have travelled in waggons
before now. Some of us have rode in coaches and chariots, with three
footmen behind them, without making so much fuss about it. What then? We
are now all upon a footing; therefore let us be sociable and merry. What
do you say, Isaac? Is not this a good motion, you doting rogue? Speak,
you old cent per cent fornicator? What desperate debt are you thinking
of? What mortgage are you planning? Well, Isaac, positively you shall
never gain my favour till you turn over a new leaf, grow honest, and
live like a gentleman. In the meantime give me a kiss, you old fumbler."
These words, accompanied with a hearty smack, enlivened the person to
whom they were addressed to such a degree that he cried, in transport,
though with a faltering voice, "Ah! you wanton baggage--upon my credit,
you are a wagg