shall not trouble the
reader with a journal of it. The captain called in at one or two ports,
and sent in his long boat for provisions and fresh water, but I never
went out of the ship, till we came into the Downs which was on the third
day of June, 1706, about nine months after my escape. I offered to leave
my goods in security for payment of my freight; but the captain
protested he would not receive one farthing. We took kind leave of each
other, and I made him promise he would come to see me at my house. I
hired a horse and guide for five shillings, which I borrowed of the
captain.

As I was on the road, observing the littleness of the horses, the trees,
the cattle, and the people, I began to think myself in Lilliput. I was
afraid of trampling on every traveler I met, and often called aloud to
have them stand out of the way, so that I had like to have gotten one or
two broken heads for my impertinence.

When I came to my own house, for which I was forced to inquire, one of
the servants opening the door, I bent down to go in (like a goose under
a gate), for fear of striking my head. My wife ran out to embrace me,
but I stooped lower than her knees, thinking she could otherwise never
be able to reach my mouth. My daughter kneeled to ask my blessing, but I
could not see her till she arose, having been so long used to stand with
my head and eyes erect to above sixty feet; and then I went to take her
up with one hand by the waist. I looked down upon the servants, and one
or two friends who were in the house, as if they had been pigmies, and I
a giant. I told my wife, "she had been too thrifty, for I found she had
starved herself and her daughter to nothing." In short, I behaved myself
so unaccountably that they were all of the captain's opinion when he
first saw me, and concluded I had lost my wits. This I mention as an
instance of the great power of habit and prejudice.

In a little time, I and my family and friends came to a right
understanding; but my wife protested I should never go to sea any more;
although my evil destiny so ordered, that she had not power to hinder
me.

THE BALLAD OF AGINCOURT

_By_ MICHAEL DRAYTON[1]

[Footnote 1: Michael Drayton was an English poet who lived from 1563 to
1631. Little is known of his life beyond the fact that he served as a
page in the household of some nobleman, and that he tried in vain to
gain the patronage of King James I. This _Ballad of Agincourt_ is
one of the