"Hold your tongue," said I, pinching the thigh. "Do you feel _that_?"
"Ho! ah! _don't_!"
"And that?"
"Stop him! I say, my dear boy, have mercy?" Jack tried to raise
himself, but I tilted him back, and, grasping the limb in both arms,
hugged it.
After breakfast Jack and I retired to my room, where, the weather being
unfavourable for our fishing excursion, I went all over it again in
detail. After that I sent Jack off to amuse himself as he chose, and,
seizing a quire of foolscap, mended a pen, squared my elbows, and began
to write this remarkable account of the reason why I did not become a
sailor.
I now present it to the juvenile public, in the hope that it may prove a
warning to all boys who venture to entertain the notion of running away
from home and going to sea.