Indian weed, unknown to ancient times,
Nature’s choice gift, whose acrimonious fume
Extracts superfluous juices, and refines
The blood distemper’d from its noxious salts;
Friend to the spirits, which with vapours bland
It gently mitigates—companion fit
Of ’a good pot of porter.’” PHILLIPS.
a pot of good double beer, neighbour.
The next day the remains of old Thompson were carried on shore in the long-boat, and buried in the churchyard of the small fishing town that was within a mile of the port where the sloop had anchored. Newton shipped another man, and when the gale was over, continued his voyage; which was accomplished without further adventure.
Finding no cargo ready for him, and anxious to deliver up the vessel to the owner, who resided at Overton, he returned in ballast, and communicated the intelligence of Thompson’s death; which, in so small a town, was long the theme of conversation, and the food of gossips.
Newton consulted with his father relative to the disposal of the trunk; but Nicholas could assist him but little with his advice. After many pros and cons, like all other difficult matters, it was postponed.—“Really, Newton, I can’t say. The property certainly is not yours, but still we are not likely to find out the lawful owner. Bring the trunk on shore; we’ll nail it up, and perhaps we may hear something about it by-and-bye. We’ll make some inquiries—by-and-bye—when your mother—”