ing lust of ambition for great things; but, in easy circumstances, sliding gently through the world, and sensibly tasting the sweets of living, without the bitter; feeling that they are happy, and learning, by every day's experience, to know it more sensibly.

After this, he pressed me earnestly, and in thre most affectionate manner, not to play the young man, nor to precipitate myself into miseries which nature, and the station of life I was born in, seemed to have provided against; that I was under no necessity of seeking my bread; that he would do well for me, and endeavour to enter me fairly into the station of life which he had been just recommending to me; and that if I was not very easy and happy in the world, it must be my mere fate, or fault, that must hinder it; and that he should have nothing to answer for, having thus discharged his duty in warning me against measures which he knew would be to my hurt: In a word, that as he would do very kind things for me if I would stay and settle at home as he directed; so he would not have so much hand in my misfortunes as to give me any encouragement to go away: and, to close all, he told me I had my elder brother for an example, to whom he had used the same earnest persuasions to keep him from going into the Low Country wars; but could not prevail, his young desires prompting him to run into the army, where he was killed; and though, he said, he would not cease to pray for me, yet he would venture to say to me, that if I did take this foolish step, God would not bless me; and I would have leisure, hereafter, to reflect upon having neglected his counsel, when there might be none to assist in my recovery.

I observed, in this last part of his discourse, which was truly prophetic, though, I suppose, my

father did not know it to be so himself; I say, I observed the tears run down his face very plentifully, especially when he spoke of my brother who was killed; and that, when he spoke of my having leisure to repent, and none to assist me, he was so moved, that he broke off the discourse, and told me his heart was so full, he could say no more to me.

I was sincerely affected with this discourse: as, indeed, who could be otherwise? and I resolved not to think of going abroad any more, but to settle at home, according to my father's desire. But alas! a few days wore it all off: and, in short, to prevent any of my father's further importunities, in a few weeks after I resolved to run quite away from him. However, I did not act so hastily, neither, as my first heat of resolution prompted; but I took my mother, at a time when I thought her a little pleasanter than ordinary, and told her that my thoughts were so entirely bent upon seeing the world, that I should never settle to any thing with resolution enough to go through with it, and my father had better give me his consent than force me to go without it; that I was now eighteen years old, which was too late to go apprentice to a trade, or clerk to an attorney; that I was sure, if I did, I should never serve out my time, and I should certainly run away from my master before my time was out, and go to sea; and if she would speak to my father to let me make but one voyage abroad, if I came home again, and did not like it, I would go no more; and I would promise, by a double diligence, to recover the time I had lost.

This put my mother into a great passion: she told me she knew it would be to no purpose to speak to my father upon any such a subject; that he knew too well what was my interest to give his consent to any thing so much for my hurt; and

that she wondered how I could think of any such thing, after such a discourse as I had from my father, and such kind and tender expressions as she knew my father had used to me: and that, in short, if I would ruin myself, there was no help for me; but I might depend I should never have their consent to it: that for her part, she would not have so much hand in my destruction; and I should never have it to say, that my mother was willing when my father was not.

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Though my mother refused to move it to ther, yet, as I have heard afterwards, she reported all the discourse to him; and that my father, after showing a great concern at it, said to her with a sigh, That boy might be happy, if he would stay at home; but, if he goes abroad, he will be the most miserable wretch that ever was born: I can give no consent to it.

It was not till almost a year after this that I broke loose; though in the mean time I continued obstinately deaf to all proposals of settling to business, and frequently expostulating' with my father and mother about their being so positively determined against what they knew my inclinations prompted me to. But, being one day at Hull, whither I went casually, and without any purpose of making an elopement at that time, and one of my companions then going to London by sea in his father's ship, and prompting me to go with them by the common allurement of sea-faring men, viz. that it should cost me nothing for my passage, I consulted neither father nor mother any more, nor so much as sent them word of it; but left them to hear of it as they might, without asking God's blessing, or my father's, without any consideration of circumstances or consequences, and in an ill hour, God knows.

On the 1st of September, 1651, I went on board a ship bound for London. Never any young adventurer's misfortunes, I believe, began earlier, or continued longer, than mine. The ship had no sooner got out of the Humber, than the wind began to blow, and the waves to rise, in a most frightful manner; and as I had never been at sea before, I was most inexpressibly sick in body and terrified in mind: I began now seriously to reflect upon what I had done, and how justly I was overtaken by the judgement of Heaven, for wickedly leaving my father's house, and abandoning my duty. All the good counsel of my parents, my father's tears, and my mother's entreaties, came now fresh into my mind; and my conscience, which was not yet come to the pitch of hardness to which it has been since, reproached me with the contempt of advice, and the breach of my duty to God and my father.

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All this while the storm increased, and the sea, which I had never been upon before, went very high, though nothing like what I have seen many times since; no, nor what I saw a few days after but, such as it was, enough to affect me then, who was but a young sailor, and had never known any thing of the matter. I expected every wave would have swallowed us up, and that every time the ship fell down, as I thought, in the trough or hollow of the sea, we should never rise more; and in this agony of mind I made many vows and resolutions, that if it would please God to spare my life this voyage, if ever I got my foot once on dry land, I would go directly home to my father, and never set it into a ship again while I lived; that I would take his advice, and never run myself into such miseries as these any more. Now I saw plainly the goodness of his observations about the middle station of life; how easy, how comfortable 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 during the storm, and indeed some time after; but the next day, as the wind was abated, and the sea calmer, I began to be a little inured to it. However, I was very grave 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 I ever 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 pleasant in a little time after.

And now, lest my good resolutions should continue, my companion, who had indeed enticed me away, came to me, and said, Well, Bob, clapping me on the shoulder, how do you do after it? I warrant you were frightened, wa'nt you, last night, when it blew but a cap-full of wind?-A cap-full, do you call it? said I; 'twas a terrible storm.A storm, you fool! replies 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: you are but a freshwater sailor, Bob; come, let us make a bowl of punch, and we'll forget all that. D'ye see what charming weather 'tis now? To make short this sad part of my story, we went the 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