' And he pulls me out a great fistfull of
Billets.
"'Sirrah,' says I, 'my Brother owes his Wife and Orphan'd Infant
three thousand times more than that. There be Debts of Nature which
precede so-called Debts of Honour. Each billet in thy hand, thou
swindling runnigate, calls for a bullet. Begone, lest _I_ owe thee
a horse-whipping.'
"'Anan!' says he, 'and one of you a Thief! _That_ for Honour, in the
mouth of a Hynds!' And snapp'd me his fingers under my Nose.
"We arrang'd a Meeting, though 'T was Foolish to Risk myself, with
the Roof tottering over my Mother's Head. My fellow Pompey, Mr. G.
Dalzell, Mr. F. Mayne, & Dr. Baltassar Bobo with me. Two of his
scoundrelly Associates with him. His ball graz'd my arm above the
Elbow & Burnt the Linen of my Shirt. Mine Finish'd him. 'T was too
great an Honour & more than he Deserv'd, to die by the Hand of a
Gentleman."
A little later: "This morn disappear'd my Cozen Jessamine.
"Nothing discover'd of her Whereabouts," he records from time to
time.
"This morn saw I Emily & Richard's little Son. 'T is a Fine child,
much Resembling my Brother. Emily turn'd her Face away, drawing down
of her Widow's Weeds, & turn'd also the Babe's face aside.
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