What will be the end of all this?
Monday.
Well, where this will end, I cannot say. But here I am, at a little poor
village, almost such a one as yours! I shall learn the name of it by and
by: and Robin assures me, he has orders to carry me to you, my dear
father and mother. O that he may say truth, and not deceive me again!
But having nothing else to do, and I am sure I shall not sleep a wink to-
night, if I was to go to bed, I will write my time away, and take up my
story where I left off, on Sunday afternoon.
Mrs. Jewkes came up to me, with this answer about my papers: My master
says, he will not read them yet, lest he should be moved by any thing in
them to alter his resolution. But if he should think it worth while to
read them, he will send them to you, afterwards, to your father's. But,
said she, here are your guineas that I borrowed: for all is over now with
you, I find.
She saw me cry, and said, Do you repent?--Of what? said I.--Nay, I can't
tell, replied she; but, to be sure, he has had a taste of your satirical
flings, or he would not be so angry. O! continued she, and held up her
hand, thou hast a spirit!--But I hope it will now be brought down.--I
hope so too, said I.
Well, added I, I am ready. She lifted up the window, and said, I'll call
Robin to take your portmanteau: Bag and baggage! proceeded she, I'm glad
you're going.
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