You need not have put on so ominous a face, for this, Galleygo." "No, sir, so I thought, myself; and I only tried to look as melancholy as a young gentleman who is sent below to report a topgallant-mast over the side, or a studding-sail-boom gone in the iron.

D'ye remember the time, Admiral Blue, when you thought to luff up on the old Planter's weather-quarter, and get between her and the French ninety on three decks, and how your stu'n-sails went, one a'ter another, just like so many musherrooms breaking in peeling ?" Galleygo, who was apt to draw his images from his two trades, might have talked on an hour, without interruption; for, while he was uttering the above sentence, Wycherly returned, and reported that their host was seriously, even dangerously ill.

While doing the honours of his table, he had been seized with a fit, which the vicar, a noted three-bottle man, feared was apoplexy.

Mr.Rotherham had bled the patient, who was already a little better, and an express had been sent for a medical man.
As a matter of course, the _convives_ had left the table, and alarm was frightening the servants into sobriety.

At Mrs.Dutton's earnest request, Wycherly immediately left the room again, forcing Galleygo out before him, with a view to get more accurate information concerning the baronet's real situation; both the mother and daughter feeling a real affection for Sir Wycherly; the kind old man having won their hearts by his habitual benevolence, and a constant concern for their welfare.
"_Sic transit gloria mundi_," muttered Admiral Bluewater, as he threw his tall person, in his own careless manner, on a chair, in a dark corner of the room.