He was no sooner gone than I asked a thousand questions about him of Don Antonio, who could give me no other satisfaction than that his name was Don Rodrigo, that he had lived fifteen or sixteen years in these parts, was reputed rich, and supposed to have been unfortunate in his younger years, because he was observed to nourish a pensive melancholy, even from the time of his first settlement among them; but that nobody had ventured to inquire into the cause of his sorrow, in consideration of his peace, which might suffer in the recapitulation of his misfortunes.
I was seized with an irresistible desire of knowing the particulars of his fate, and enjoyed not an hour of repose during the whole night, by reason of the eager conceptions that inspired me with regard to his story, which I resolved (if possible) to learn.

Next morning, while we were at breakfast, three mules, richly caparisoned, arrived with a message from Don Rodrigo, desiring our company, and that of Don Antonio, at his house, which was situated about ten miles further up in the country.

I was pleased with this invitation, in consequence of which we mounted the mules which he had provided for us, and alighted at his house before noon.

Here we were splendidly entertained by the generous stranger, who still seemed to show a particular regard for me, and after dinner made me a present of a ring, set with a beautiful amethyst, the production of that country, saying, at the same time, that he was once blessed with a son, who, had he lived, would have been nearly of my age.
This observation, delivered with a profound sigh, made my heart throb with violence: a crowd of confused ideas rushed upon my imagination, which, while I endeavoured to unravel, my uncle perceived my absence of thought, and tapping me on the shoulder, said, "Oons, are you asleep, Rory ?" Before I had time to reply, Don Rodrigo, with uncommon eagerness of voice and look, pronounced, "Pray, captain, what is the young gentleman's name ?" "His name," said my uncle, "is Roderick Random." "Gracious Powers!" cried the stranger, starting up--"And his mother's ?" "His mother," answered the captain, amazed, "was called Charlotte Bowling." "O bounteous Heaven!" exclaimed Don Rodrigo, springing across the table, and clasping me in his arms, "my son! my son! have I found thee again?
do I hold thee in my embrace, after having lost and despaired of seeing thee so long ?" So saying, he fell upon my neck, and wept aloud with joy; while the power of nature operating strongly in my breast.

I was lost in rapture, and while he pressed me to his heart, let fall a shower of tears in his bosom.