I love him as well as if he was my own flesh and blood." At this period, Tom, whose heart was of the melting mood, began to sob and weep plenteously, from pure affection.

Crowe, who was not very subject to these tendernesses, d---ed him for a chicken-hearted lubber; repeating, with much peevishness, "What dost cry for?
what dost cry for, noddy ?" The surgeon, impatient to know the story of Sir Launcelot, which he had heard imperfectly recounted, begged that Mr.Clarke would compose himself, and relate it as circumstantially as his memory would retain the particulars; and Tom, wiping his eyes, promised to give him that satisfaction; which the reader, if he be so minded, may partake in the next chapter..