joy, has a thousand extravagances in it. There were some in tears;
some raging and tearing themselves, as if they had been in the
greatest agonies of sorrow; some stark raving and downright
lunatic; some ran about the ship stamping with their feet, others
wringing their hands; some were dancing, some singing, some
laughing, more crying, many quite dumb, not able to speak a word;
others sick and vomiting; several swooning and ready to faint; and
a few were crossing themselves and giving God thanks.

I would not wrong them either; there might be many that were
thankful afterwards; but the passion was too strong for them at
first, and they were not able to master it: then were thrown into
ecstasies, and a kind of frenzy, and it was but a very few that
were composed and serious in their joy. Perhaps also, the case may
have some addition to it from the particular circumstance of that
nation they belonged to: I mean the French, whose temper is
allowed to be more volatile, more passionate, and more sprightly,
and their spirits more fluid than in other nations. I am not
philosopher enough to determine the cause; but nothing I had ever
seen before came up to it. The ecstasies poor Friday, my trusty
savage, was in when he found his father in the boat came the
nearest to it; and the surprise of the master and his two
companions, whom I delivered from the villains that set them on
shore in the island, came a little way towards it; but nothing was
to compare to this, either that I saw in Friday, or anywhere else
in my life.

It is further observable, that these extravagances did not show
themselves in that different manner I have mentioned, in different
persons only; but all the variety would appear, in a short