Wilkin s afraid of losing his new mistress—They live together all winter—A remark on that—They begin to know each other's language—A long discourse between them at cross purposes—She flies—They engage to be man and wife.

A fter my new love had been with me a fortnight, finding my water run low, I was greatly troubled at the thought of quitting her any time to go for more; and having hinted it to her, with seeming uneasiness, she could not for a while fathom my meaning; but when she saw me much confused, she came at length, by the many signs I made, to imagine it was my concern for her which made me so; whereupon she expressively enough signified I might be easy, for she did not fear anything happening to her in my absence. On this, as well as I could declare my meaning, I entreated her not to go away before my return. As soon as she understood what I signified to her by actions, she sat down, with her arms across, leaning her head against the wall to assure me she would not stir. However, as I had before nailed a cord to the outside of the door, I tied that for caution's sake to the tree, for fear of the worst: but I believe she had not the least design of removing.

I took my boat, net, and water-cask, as usual, desirous of bringing her home a fresh fish dinner, and succeeded so well as to catch enough for several good meals, and to spare. What remained I salted, and found she liked that better than the fresh, after a few days' salting; though she did not so well approve of that I had formerly pickled and dried. As my salt grew very low, though I had been as sparing of it as possible, I now resolved to try making some; and the next summer I effected it.

Thus we spent the remainder of the winter together, till the days began to be light enough for me to walk abroad a little in the middle of them; for I was now under no apprehensions of her leaving me, as she had before this time had so many opportunities of doing so, but never once attempted it.

I must here make one reflection upon our conduct, which you will almost think incredible, viz., that we two, of different sexes, not wanting our peculiar desires, fully inflamed with love to each other, and no outward obstacle to prevent our wishes, should have been together, under the same roof alone for five months, conversing together from morning to night (for by this time she pretty well understood English, and I her language), and yet I should never have clasped her in my arms, or have shown any further amorous desires to her than what the deference I all along paid her could give her room to surmise. Nay, I can affirm that I did not even then know that the covering she wore was not the work of art, but the work of nature, for I really took it for silk; though it must be premised that I had never seen it by any other light than of my lamp. Indeed the modesty of her carriage and sweetness of her behaviour to me had struck into me such a dread of offending her, that though nothing upon earth could be more capable of exciting passion than her charms, I could have died rather than have attempted only to salute her without actual invitation.

When the weather cleared up a little by the lengthening of daylight, I took courage one afternoon to invite her to walk with me to the lake; but she sweetly excused herself from it, whilst there was such a frightful glare of light, as she said; but looking out at the door, told me, if I would not go out of the wood she would accompany me: so we agreed to take a turn only there. I first went myself over the stile of the door, and thinking it rather too high for her, I took her in my arms and lifted her over. But even when I had her in this manner, I knew not what to make of her clothing, it sat so true and close; but seeing by a steadier and truer light in the grove, though a heavy gloomy one, than my lamp had afforded, I begged she would let me know of what silk or other composition her garment was made. She smiled, and asked me if mine was not the same under my jacket "No, lady," says I, "I have nothing but my skin under my clothes."—"Why, what do you mean?" replies she, somewhat tartly; "but indeed I was afraid that something was the matter by that nasty covering you wear, that you might not be seen. Are you not a glumm?"*—"Yes,"says I, "fair creature." (Here, though you may conceive she spoke part English, part her own tongue, and I the same, as we best understood each other, yet I shall give you our discourse, word for word, in plain English.) "Then," says she, "I am afraid you must have been a very bad man, and have been crashee,** which I should be very sorry to hear."

* A man. ** Slit.

I told her I believed we were none of us so good as we might be, but I hoped my faults had not at most exceeded other men's; but I had suffered abundance of hardships in my time; and that at last Providence having settled me in this spot, from whence I had no prospect of ever departing, it was none of the least of its mercies to bring to my knowledge and company the most exquisite piece of all His works, in her, which I should acknowledge as long as I lived. She was surprised at this discourse, and asked me (if I did not mean to impose upon her, and was indeed an ingcrashee* glumm) why I should tell her I had no prospect of departing hence. "Have not you," says she, "the same prospect that I or any other person has of departing? Sir," added she, "you don't do well, and really I fear you are slit, or you would not wear this nasty cumbersome coat (taking hold of my jacket-sleeve), if you were not afraid of showing the signs of a bad life upon your natural clothing."

* Unslit.

I could not for my heart imagine what way there was to get out of my dominions. But certainly, thought I, there must be some way or other, or she would not be so peremptory. And as to my jacket, and showing myself in my natural clothing, I profess she made me blush; and but for shame, I would have stripped to my skin to have satisfied her. "But, madam," says I, "pray pardon me, for you are really mistaken; I have examined every nook and corner of this new world in which we now are, and can find no possible outlet; nay, even by the same way I came in, I am sure it is impossible to get out again."—"Why," says she, "what outlets have you searched for, or what way can you expect out but the way you came in? And why is that impossible to return by again? If you are not slit, is not the air open to you? Will not the sky admit you to patrole in it, as well as other people? I tell you, sir, I fear you have been slit for your crimes; and though you have been so good to me, that I can't help loving of you heartily for it, yet if I thought you had been slit, I would not, nay, could not, stay a moment longer with you; no, though it should break my heart to leave you."

I found myself now in a strange quandary, longing to know what she meant by being slit, and had a hundred strange notions in my head whether I was slit or not; for though I knew what the word naturally signified well enough, yet in what manner or by what figure of speech she applied it to me, I had no idea of. But seeing her look a little angrily upon me, "Pray, madam," says I, "don't be offended, if I take the liberty to ask you what you mean by the word crashee* so often repeated by you; for I am an utter stranger to what you mean by it."—"Sir," says she, "pray answer me first how you came here?"—"Madam," replied I, "will you please to take a walk to the verge of the wood, I will show you the very passage."—"Sir," says she, "I perfectly know the range of the rocks all round, and by the least description, without going to see them, can tell from which you descended."—"In truth," said I, "most charming lady, I descended from no rock at all; nor would I for a thousand worlds attempt what could not be accomplished but by my destruction."—"Sir," says she, in some anger, "it is false, and you impose upon me."—"I declare to you," says I, "madam, what I tell you is strictly true; I never was near the summit of any of the surrounding rocks, or anything like it; but as you are not far from the verge of the wood, be so good as to step a little farther and I will show you my entrance in hither."—"Well," says she, "now this odious dazzle of light is lessened, I don't care if I do go with you."

When we came far enough to see the bridge, "There, madam," says I, "there is my entrance, where the sea pours into this lake from yonder cavern."—"It is not possible," says she; "this is another untruth; and as I see you would deceive me, and are not to be believed, farewell; I must be gone. But, hold," says she, "let me ask you one thing more; that is, by what means did you come through that cavern? You could not have used to have come over the rock?"—"Bless me, madam!" says I, "do you think I and my boat could fly? Come over the rock, did you say? No, madam; I sailed from the great sea, the main ocean, in my boat, through that cavern into this very lake here."—"What do you mean by your boat?" says she. "You seem to make two things of your boat you say you sailed with and yourself."—"I do so," replied I; "for, madam, I take myself to be good flesh and blood, but my boat is made of wood and other materials."—"Is it so?" says she. "And, pray, where is this boat that is made of wood and other materials?—under your jacket?"—"Lord, madam!" says I, "you put me in fear that you were angry; but now I hope you only joke with me. What, put a boat under my jacket! No, madam; my boat is in the lake."—"What, more untruths?" says she.—"No, madam," I replied; "if you would be satisfied of what I say (every word of which is as true as that my boat now is in the lake), pray walk with me thither and make your own eyes judges what sincerity I speak with." To this she agreed, it growing dusky; but assured me, if I did not give her good satisfaction, I should see her no more.

We arrived at the lake; and going to my wet-dock, "Now, madam," says I, "pray satisfy yourself whether I spake true or no." She looked at my boat, but could not yet frame a proper notion of it. Says I, "Madam, in this very boat I sailed from the main ocean through that cavern into this lake; and shall at last think myself the happiest of all men if you continue with me, love me, and credit me; and I promise you I'll never deceive you, but think my life happily spent in your service." I found she was hardly content yet to believe what I told her of my boat to be true; till I stepped into it, and pushing from the shore, took my oars in my hand, and sailed along the lake by her, as she walked on the shore. At last she seemed so well reconciled to me and my boat, that she desired I would take her in. I immediately did so, and we sailed a good way; and as we returned to my dock I described to her how I procured the water we drank, and brought it to shore in that vessel.

"Well," says she, "I have sailed, as you call it, many a mile in my lifetime, but never in such a thing as this. I own it will serve very well where one has a great many things to carry from place to place; but to be labouring thus at an oar when one intends pleasure in sailing, is in my mind a most ridiculous piece of slavery."—"Why, pray, madam, how would you have me sail? for getting into the boat only will not carry us this way or that without using some force."—"But," says she, "pray, where did you get this boat, as you call it?"—"O madam!" says I, "that is too long and fatal a story to begin upon now; this boat was made many thousand miles from hence, among a people coal-black, a quite different sort from us; and, when I first had it, I little thought of seeing this country; but I will make a faithful relation of all to you when we come home." Indeed, I began to wish heartily we were there, for it grew into the night; and having strolled so far without my gun, I was afraid of what I had before seen and heard, and hinted our return; but I found my motion was disagreeable to her, and so I dropped it.

I now perceived and wondered at it, that the later it grew the more agreeable it seemed to her; and as I had now brought her into good-humour again by seeing and sailing in my boat, I was not willing to prevent its increase. I told her, if she pleased, we would land, and when I had docked my boat, I would accompany her where and as long as she liked. As we talked and walked by the lake, she made a little run before me and sprung into it Perceiving this, I cried out, whereupon she merrily called on me to follow her.

The light was then so dim, as prevented my having more than a confused sight of her when she jumped in; and looking earnestly after her, I could discern nothing more than a small boat in the water, which skimmed along at so great a rate that I almost lost sight of it presently; but running along the shore for fear of losing her, I met her gravely walking to meet me, and then had entirely lost sight of the boat upon the lake. "This," says she, accosting me with a smile, "is my way of sailing, which, I perceive, by the fright you were in, you are altogether unacquainted with; and, as you tell me you came from so many thousand miles off, it is possible you may be made differently from me: but, surely we are the part of the creation which has had most care bestowed upon it; and I suspect, from all your discourse, to which I have been very attentive, it is possible you may no more be able to fly than to sail as I do."—"No, charming creature," says I, "that I cannot, I'll assure you." She then, stepping to the edge of the lake, for the advantage of a descent before her, sprung up into the air, and away she went farther than my eyes could follow her.

I was quite astonished. "So," says I, "then all is over! all a delusion which I have so long been in! a mere phantom! Better had it been for me never to have seen her, than thus to lose her again! But what could I expect had she stayed? For it is plain she is no human composition. But," says I, "she felt like flesh, too, when I lifted her out at the door!" I had but very little time for reflection; for, in about ten minutes after she had left me in this mixture of grief and amazement, she alighted just by me on her feet.

Her return, as she plainly saw, filled me with a transport not to be concealed; and which, as she afterwards told me, was very agreeable to her. Indeed, I was some moments in such an agitation of mind from these unparalleled incidents, that I was like one thunder-struck; but coming presently to myself, and clasping her in my arms with as much love and passion as I was capable of expressing, and for the first time with any desire,—"Are you returned again, kind angel," said I, "to bless a wretch who can only be happy in adoring you? Can it be, that you, who have so many advantages over me, should quit all the pleasures that nature has formed you for, and all your friends and relations, to take an asylum in my arms? But I here make you a tender of all I am able to bestow—my love and constancy."—"Come, come," says she, "no more raptures; I find you are a worthier man than I thought I had reason to take you for, and I beg your pardon for my distrust whilst I was ignorant of your imperfections; but now I verily believe all you have said is true; and I promise you, as you have seemed so much to delight in me, I will never quit you till death, or other as fatal accident shall part us. But we will now, if you choose, go home; for I know you have been some time uneasy in this gloom, though agreeable to me: for, giving my eyes the pleasure of looking eagerly on you, it conceals my blushes from your sight."

In this manner, exchanging mutual endearments and soft speeches, hand in hand, we arrived at the grotto; where we that night consummated our nuptials, without farther ceremony than mutual solemn engagements to each other; which are, in truth, the essence of marriage, and all that was there and then in our power.