HASTY VOWS SOON REPENTED. 59

think nothing of such a squall of wind as that. But you're but a
fresh-water sailor, Bob. Come, let us make a bowl of punch, and
we'll forget all that. D’ye sce what charming weather ’tis now?”
To make short this sad part of my story, we went the old way of
all sailors. The punch was made, and I was made drunk with it.

 

“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 conduct, and all my resolutions
for my future. In a word, as the sea was returned to its smooth-
ness of surface and settled calmness by the abatement of that
storm, so—-the hurry of my thoughts being over, my fears and
apprehensions of being swallowed up by the sea being forgotten,
and the current of my former desires returned—I entirely forgot
the vows and promises that I made in my distress. I found,
indeed, some intervals of reflection, and the serious thoughts did,
as it were, endeavour to return again sometimes; but I shook