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ships.—Well, says the squire, go in and get some victuals and after dinner we will try your abilities. He was accordingly called into the parlour, where were a large company of gentlemen and ladies. Well honest rat catcher, says the ’squire, can you lay any scheme to kill the rats without hurting my dogs? Yes, yes, cries Carew, I can lay it where even the rats cannot climb to reach it,—What countryman are you?—A Devonshire man, an please your honour.—What is your name? (Here our hero began to perceive that he was discovered by the smilings and whisperings of several gentlemen,) and he very composedly answered; My name is Bamfylde Moore Carew. This occasioned much mirth and Mr Pleydell expressed extraordinary pleasure. He had often wished to see him, but never had—Yes, you have, replies Carew, and given me a suit of clothes. Do you not remember meeting a poor wretch one day at your stable door, with a stocking round his head, an old mantle over his shoulders, without shirt stockings, or scarf any shoes, who told you he was a poor unfortunate man, cast away upon the coast, with sixteen more of the crew, who were all
