ion of life, how easy,
how comfortably he had lived all his days, and never had been exposed to
tempests at sea, or troubles on shore; and I resolved that I would, like
a true repenting prodigal, go home to my father.

These wise and sober thoughts continued all the while the storm
continued, and indeed some time after; but the next day the wind was
abated, and the sea calmer, and I began to be a little inured to it:
however, I was very grave for all that day, being also a little sea-sick
still; but towards night the weather cleared up, the wind was quite
over, and a charming fine evening followed; the sun went down perfectly
clear, and rose so the next morning; and having little or no wind, and a
smooth sea, the sun shining upon it, the sight was, as I thought, the
most delightful that ever I saw.

I had slept well in the night, and was now no more sea-sick, but very
cheerful, looking with wonder upon the sea that was so rough and
terrible the day before, and could be so calm and so pleasant in so
little time after. And now, lest my good resolutions should continue, my
companion, who had indeed enticed me away, comes to me: "Well, Bob,"
says he, (clapping me upon the shoulder) "how do you do after it? I
warrant you were frighted, wa'n't you, last night, when it blew but a
capful of wind?"--"A capful do you call it?" said I; "it was a terrible
storm."--"A storm you fool you," replied he, "do you call that a storm?
why it was nothing at all; give us but a good ship and sea-room, and we
think nothing of such a squall of wind as that; but you're but a
fresh-water sailor, Bob. Come, let us make a bowl of punch, and we'll
forget all that; do you see what charming weather it is now?" To make
short this sad part of my story, we went the old way of all sailors; the
punch was made, and I was made drunk with it; and in that one night's
wickedness I drowned all my repentance, all my reflections upon my past
conduct, and all my resolutions for my future. In a word, as the sea was
returned to its smoothness of surface and settled calmness by the
abatement of that storm, so the hurry of my thoughts being over, my
fears and apprehensions of being swallowed up by the sea being
forgotten, and the current of my former desires returned, I entirely
forgot the vows and promises that I made in my distress. I found,
indeed, some intervals of reflection, and the serious thoughts did, as
it were, endeavour to return again sometimes; but I shoo