minute.

Trudge. Aye; stripping is the first thing that would happen to us; for they seem to be woefully off for a wardrobe. I myself saw three, at a distance, with less clothes than I have, when I get out of bed: all dancing about in black buff; just like Adam in mourning.

Med. This is to have to do with a schemer! a fellow who risks his life, for a chance of advancing his interest.—Always advantage in view! Trying, here, to make discoveries, that may promote his profit in England. Another Botany Bay scheme, mayhap. Nothing else could induce him to quit our foraging party, from the ship; when he knows every inhabitant here is not only as black as a pepper-corn, but as hot into the bargain—and I, like a fool, to follow him! and then to let him loiter behind.—Why, nephew;—Why, Inkle.—[Calling.]

Trudge. Why, Inkle——Well! only to see the difference of men! he'd have thought it very hard, now, if I had let him call so often after me. Ah! I wish he was calling after me now, in the old jog-trot way, again. What a fool was I to leave London for foreign parts!——That ever I should leave Threadneedle-street, to thread an American forest, where a man's as soon lost as a needle in a bottle of hay!

Med. Patience, Trudge! Patience! If we once recover the ship——

Trudge. Lord, sir, I shall never recover what I have lost in coming abroad. When my master and I were in London, I had such a mortal snug birth of it! Why, I was factotum.

Med. Factotum to a young merchant is no such sinecure, neither.

Trudge. But then the honour of it. Think of that, sir; to be clerk as well as own man. Only consider. You find very few city clerks made out of a man, now-a-days. To be king of the counting-house, as well as lord of the bed-chamber. Ah! if I had him but now in the little dressing-room behind the office; tying his hair, with a bit of red tape, as usual.

Med. Yes, or writing an invoice in lampblack, and shining his shoes with an ink-bottle, as usual, you blundering blockhead!

Trudge. Oh, if I was but brushing the accounts or casting up the coats! mercy on us! what's that?

Med. That! What?

Trudge. Didn't you hear a noise?

Med. Y—es—but—hush! Oh, heavens be praised! here he is at last.

Enter Inkle.

Now, nephew!

Inkle. So, Mr. Medium.

Med. Zounds, one would think, by your confounded composure, that you were walking in St. James's Park, instead of an American forest: and that all the beasts were nothing but good company. The hollow trees, here, sentry boxes, and the lions in 'em, soldiers; the jackalls, courtiers; the crocodiles, fine women; and the baboons, beaus. What the plague made you loiter so long?

Inkle. Reflection.

Med. So I should think; reflection generally comes lagging behind. What, scheming, I suppose; never quiet. At it again, eh? What a happy trader is your father, to have so prudent a son for a partner! Why, you are the carefullest Co. in the whole city. Never losing sight of the main chance; and that's the reason, perhaps, you lost sight of us, here, on the main of America.

Inkle. Right, Mr. Medium. Arithmetic, I own, has been the means of our parting at present.

Trudge. Ha! A sum in division, I reckon.

[Aside.

Med. And pray, if I may be so bold, what mighty scheme has just tempted you to employ your head, when you ought to make use of your heels?

Inkle. My heels! Here's pretty doctrine! Do you think I travel merely for motion? What, would you have a man of business come abroad, scamper extravagantly here and