istressing. But we entered into a
long conversation, in which I recounted the adventures that had taken
place since I had left her, and for the time forgot our source of
annoyance and regret. For three days my father insisted upon the old
woman pumping the gas out of his body; after that, he again fell into
one of his sleeps, which lasted nearly thirty hours.

When he arose, I went again to see him. It was eight o'clock in the
evening, and I entered with a candle. "Take it away--quick, take it
away; put it out carefully."

"Why, what's the matter, sir?"

"Don't come near me, if you love me; don't come near me. Put it out, I
say--put it out."

I obeyed his orders, and then asked him the reason. "Reason!" said he,
now that we were in the dark; "can't you see?"

"No, father; I can see nothing in the dark."

"Well, then, Peter, I'm a magazine, full of gunpowder; the least spark
in the world, and I am blown up. Consider the danger. You surely would
not be the destruction of your father, Peter?" and the poor old
gentleman burst into tears, and wept like a child.

I knew that it was in vain to reason with him. "My dear father," said I,
"on board ship, when there is any danger of this kind, we always _float_
the magazine. Now, if you were to drink a good deal of water, the powder
would be spoiled, and there would be no danger." My father was satisfied
with my proposal, and drank a tumbler of water every half-hour, which
the old nurse was obliged to supply as fast as he called for it; and
this satisfied him for three or four days, and I was again left to the
company of my dear Ellen, when my father again fell into his stupor, and
we wondered what would be his next fancy. I was hastily summoned by the
nurse, and found my poor father lying in bed, and breathing in a very
strange manner. "What is the matter, my dear sir?" inquired I.

"Why don't you see what is the matter? How is a poor little infant, just
born, to live, unless its mother is near to suckle it, and take care of
it?"

"Indeed, sir, do you mean to say that you are just born?"

"To be sure I do. I'm dying for the breast."

This was almost too absurd; but I gravely observed, "That it was all
very true, but unfortunately his mother had died in childbirth, and the
only remedy was to bring him up by hand."

He agreed with me. I desired the nurse to make some gruel with brandy,
and feed him; which she did, and he took the gruel just as if he were a
baby. I wa