SCRAP BOOK. 7
resolutely in the face, stand as stiff as a rock, and bicker and clamour at him with all your might. Tut! tut! never trust to your snaps," continued the wary old man, observing me fumbling for pistols, "never trust to your snaps; you may hit the beast by chance, but it's a miracle if you kill or even disable him; but oh! dear, Sir, if your lead whizzes over his mane, or cleaves his lough skin without entirely slaying him, your life isn't worth a two hours' purchase. Why, Sir, he'll lay you across his mighty loins, and carry you off to his den as fairly and cleverly as my galloway ambles away under the light body of my boy Rudolph. You'll never look upon mortal again. Your grave will be the fiery maw of the terrible beast; but don't be daunted, Sir-look fierce upon him, and he'll fly you; but if you prize your existence, let him go off peaceably and quietly when he turns his back; don't hail him, or scoff at him in his retreat; his spirit wont bear it; an insult thrown upon a cowed and perishing enemy, is often fatally revenged-but dont be daunted, Sir, don't be daunted-wife-wife-bring the jar."
I quaffed a cup of mine host's wine; kissed coy little girls, who apparently ered as much at my departure, as they did at my coming among them; pressed old Hendrick's hand to my heart, and after taking a warm leave of my young friend and his bride, departed in high spirits. I travelled along at a moderate rate for several hours; but, to confess the truth, I felt my courage sensibly flagging as the inspiriting fumes of, Hendrick's strong drink were gradually dispelled by exercise
