we remained in a state of nature five years, when at last a whaler of hull—though the hull was not visible—showed her masts on the horizon, an event which was telegraphed by monday, who began saying his prayers and dancing the college

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hornpipe at the same time with equal fervour. we contrived by lighting a fire, literally a feu-de-joie, to make a sign of distress, and a boat came to our signal deliverance. we had a prosperous passage home, where the reader may anticipate the happiness that awaited us; but not the trouble that was in store for me and monday. our parting was out of the question; we would both rather have parted from our sheet anchor. we attempted to return to our relative rank, but we had lived so long in a kind of liberty and equality, that we could never resume our grades. the state of nature remained uppermost with us both, and monday still watched over and tended me like dominie sampson with the boy harry bertram; go where i would, he followed with the dogged pertinacity of tom pipes; and do what i might, he interfered with the resolute vigour of john dory in wild oats. this disposition involved us daily, nay, hourly, in the most embarrassing circumstances; and how the connexion might have terminated i know not, if it had not been speedily dissolved in a very unexpected manner. one morning poor monday was found on his bed in a sort of convulsion, which barely enabled him to grasp my hand, and to falter out, “good-bye, i am go—going—back—to a state of nature.”