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Cousin Pickle,—I hope you are in a better trim than your aunt, who hath been fast moored to her bed these seven weeks, by several feet of under-water lodging in her hold and hollop, whereby I doubt her planks are rotted, so that she cannot choose but fall to pieces in a short time. I have done all in my power to keep her tight and easy, and free from sudden squalls that might overstrain her. And here have been the doctors, who have scuttled her lower deck, and let out six gallons of water. For my own part, I wonder how the devil it came there; for you know as how it was a liquor she never took in. But as for those fellows the doctors, they are like unskilful carpenters, that in mending one leak make a couple; and so she fills again apace. But the worst sign of all is this here, she won't let a drop of Nantz go between the combings of her teeth, and has quite lost the rudder of her understanding, whereby she yaws woundily in her speech palavering about some foreign part called the New Geereusalem, and wishing herself in a safe berth in the river Geordun. The parson, I must say, strives to keep her steady, concerning the navigation of her soul, and talks very sensibly of charity and the poor, whereof she hath left a legacy of two hundred pounds in her will. And here has been Mr. Gamaliel and your brother my lord, demanding entrance at the gate, in order to see her; but I would not suffer them to come aboard, and pointed my patereroes, which made them sheer off. Your sister, Mrs. Clover, keeps close watch upon her kinswoman, without ever turning in, and a kind-hearted young woman it is. I should be glad to see you at the garrison, if the wind of your inclination sits that way; and mayhap it may be a comfort to your aunt, to behold you alongside of her, when her anchor is apeak. So no more at present, but rests your friend and humble servant to command, “John Hatchway.”

Next morning, after the receipt of this epistle, Peregrine, in order to manifest his regard to his aunt, as well as his friendship for honest Jack, set out on horseback for their habitation, attended by Pipes, who longed to see his old messmate; but before he had reached the garrison, Mrs. Hatchway had given up the ghost, in the threescore and fifth year of her age. The widower seemed to bear his loss with resignation, and behaved very decently upon the occasion, though he did not undergo those dangerous transports of sorrow, which some tender-hearted husbands have felt at the departure of their wives. The lieutenant was naturally a philosopher, and so well disposed to acquiesce in the dispensations of Providence, that in this, as well as in every other emergency of his life, he firmly believed, that everything which happened was for the best.

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