but, poring over the documents, I have tried to imagine the situation of
the writer, where he was, and by what persons surrounded. I have drawn
the figures as I fancied they were; set down conversations as I think I
might have heard them; and so, to the best of my ability, endeavoured to
revivify the bygone times and people. With what success the task has been
accomplished, with what profit or amusement to himself, the kind reader
will please to determine.

One summer morning in the year 1756, and in the reign of his Majesty King
George the Second, the Young Rachel, Virginian ship, Edward Franks
master, came up the Avon river on her happy return from her annual voyage
to the Potomac. She proceeded to Bristol with the tide, and moored in the
stream as near as possible to Trail's wharf, to which she was consigned.
Mr. Trail, her part owner, who could survey his ship from his
counting-house windows, straightway took boat and came up her side. The
owner of the Young Rachel, a large grave man in his own hair, and of a
demure aspect, gave the hand of welcome to Captain Franks, who stood on
his deck, and congratulated the captain upon the speedy and fortunate
voyage which he had made. And, remarking that we ought to be thankful to
Heaven for its mercies, he proceeded presently to business by asking
particulars relative to cargo and passengers.

Franks was a pleasant man, who loved a joke. "We have," says he, "but
yonder ugly negro boy, who is fetching the trunks, and a passenger who
has the state cabin to himself."

Mr. Trail looked as if he would have preferred more mercies from Heaven.
"Confound you, Franks, and your luck! The Duke William, which came in
last week, brought fourteen, and she is not half of our tonnage."