"Truly you did well to get away from him, no matter into what forests you plunged or upon what desert island you lost yourself.

At any moment he might have turned upon you and cut you to pieces to amuse himself.

I have heard the most horrible stories of Blackbeard." "He treated me very well," said Dickory, "but I know from his own words that he reserved me for a most horrible fate." "What!" exclaimed the man, "and he told you?
He is indeed a demon!" "Yes," said Dickory, "he said over and over again that he was going to take me to England to marry me to his daughter." At this the wife could not refrain from a smile.

"Matrimony is not generally considered a horrible fate," said she; "perhaps his daughter may be a most comely and estimable young person.

Girls do not always resemble their fathers." "Do not mention it," exclaimed Dickory, with a shudder; "that was one reason that I ran away; I preferred any danger from man or beast to that he was taking me to." "He is engaged to be married," thought the woman; "it is easy enough to see that." "Now tell me your story, I pray you," said Dickory.