dlord ran in, and faster out again. And this was the
distraction scene for some time.

In vain was all Jemmy or I could say to him. I offered once to take hold
of his hands, because he was going to do himself a mischief, as I
believed, looking about for his pistols, which he had laid upon the
table, but which Will., unseen, had taken out with him, [a faithful,
honest dog, that Will.! I shall for ever love the fellow for it,] and he
hit me a d--d dowse of the chops, as made my nose bleed. 'Twas well
'twas he, for I hardly knew how to take it.

Jemmy raved at him, and told him, how wicked it was in him, to be so
brutish to abuse a friend, and run mad for a woman. And then he said he
was sorry for it; and then Will. ventured in with water and a towel; and
the dog rejoiced, as I could see by his look, that I had it rather than
he.

And so, by degrees, we brought him a little to his reason, and he
promised to behave more like a man. And so I forgave him: and we rode on
in the dark to here at Doleman's. And we all tried to shame him out of
his mad, ungovernable foolishness: for we told him, as how she was but a
woman, and an obstinate perverse woman too; and how could he help it?

And you know, Jack, (as we told him, moreover,) that it was a shame to
manhood, for a man, who had served twenty and twenty women as bad or
worse, let him have served Miss Harlowe never so bad, should give himself
such obstropulous airs, because she would die: and we advised him never
to attempt a woman proud of her character and virtue, as they call it,
any more: for why? The conquest did not pay trouble; and what was there
in one woman more than another? Hay, you know, Jack!--And thus we
comforted him, and advised him.

But yet his d--d addled pate runs upon this lady as much now she's dead
as it did when she was living. For, I suppose, Jack, it is no joke: she
is certainly and bona fide dead: I'n't she? If not, thou deservest to be
doubly d--d for thy fooling, I tell thee that. So he will have me write
for particulars of her departure.

He won't bear the word dead on any account. A squeamish puppy! How love
unmans and softens! And such a noble fellow as this too! Rot him for an
idiot, and an oaf! I have no patience with the foolish duncical dog
--upon my soul, I have not!

So send the account, and let him howl over it, as I suppose he will.

But he must and shall go abroad: and in a month or two Jemmy, and you,
and I, wi