'I never remember a Sabbath pass so cannily off in my life.' Then he recollected himself a little, and said to Alan, 'You may read that book, Mr.Fairford, to-morrow, all the same, though it be Monday; for, you see, it was Saturday when we were thegither, and now it's Sunday and it's dark night--so the Sabbath has slipped clean away through our fingers like water through a sieve, which abideth not; and we have to begin again to-morrow morning, in the weariful, base, mean, earthly employments, whilk are unworthy of an immortal spirit--always excepting the way of business.' Three of the fellows were now returning to the town, and, at Ewart's command, they cut short the patriarch's exhortation, by leading him back to his own residence.

The rest of the party then proceeded to the brig, which only waited their arrival to get under weigh and drop down the river.

Nanty Ewart betook himself to steering the brig, and the very touch of the helm seemed to dispel the remaining influence of the liquor which he had drunk, since, through a troublesome and intricate channel, he was able to direct the course of his little vessel with the most perfect accuracy and safety.
Alan Fairford, for some time, availed himself of the clearness of the summer morning to gaze on the dimly seen shores betwixt which they glided, becoming less and less distinct as they receded from each other, until at length, having adjusted his little bundle by way of pillow, and wrapped around him the greatcoat with which old Trumbull had equipped him, he stretched himself on the deck, to try to recover the slumber out of which he had been awakened.

Sleep had scarce begun to settle on his eyes, ere he found something stirring about his person.

With ready presence of mind he recollected his situation, and resolved to show no alarm until the purpose of this became obvious; but he was soon relieved from his anxiety, by finding it was only the result of Nanty's attention to his comfort, who was wrapping around him, as softly as he could, a great boatcloak, in order to defend him from the morning air.
'Thou art but a cockerel,' he muttered, 'but 'twere pity thou wert knocked off the perch before seeing a little more of the sweet and sour of this world--though, faith, if thou hast the usual luck of it, the best way were to leave thee to the chance of a seasoning fever.' These words, and the awkward courtesy with which the skipper of the little brig tucked the sea-coat round Fairford, gave him a confidence of safety which he had not yet thoroughly possessed.