576 APPENDIX. 



Badsworth, my gardener assures me that the weather here was quite 

 temperate. This year we have no fruit, all was blasted in the month 

 of May ; and by what I see of my own potatoes, I have too great 

 reason to apprehend that the disease in this most invaluable gift from 

 heaven has once more returned. 



On Wednesday last, in coming down from London, I had a most 

 amusing adventure. In our railway carriage was a very fine and 

 portly-looking gentleman with an elegant daughter. In his youth he 

 had lived in our neighbourhood. When he found that I was from 

 that neighbourhood, he talked much of his former acquaintance ; and 

 amongst other things he remarked, that Waterton lived not far from 

 Wakefield, in a very curious house (so he was informed), replete with 

 most exotic curiosities, and with a moat round it, full of extraordinary 

 reptiles. Waterton, continued he, died about four years ago, but he 

 has a son travelling now in South America. I said that Waterton 

 must have been a blade. He has left us some tough stories in his 

 " Wanderings," too tough to swallow. " No," said he, " although I 

 never knew Waterton, I am sure he was an honest man. I read his 

 character in his works." So we went on ; I giving hints, now and 

 then, affecting Waterton's veracity, and he standing up for it. The 

 train having stopped, the good gentleman got out with his daughter. 

 I then said, " Sir, you have been holding conversation with a phan- 

 tom." " If so," said he, " it is a very substantial one." "No, sir," 

 said I, " I am the man who died four years ago ; and I will take my 

 oath before judge and jury, that I rode the cayman, and that I slew 

 the great serpents." " Impossible, sir," said he, " quite impossible." 

 " Well, sir," said I, " all I know is this, that I did perform those feats, 

 and that I do believe I am still alive, for I ate a good breakfast this 

 morning, and I am satisfied that it went down into my inside of flesh 

 and blood." The good gentleman stared like a stuck pig, as we say 

 in Yorkshire, and so did* his pretty daughter. But, before I 

 bethought me to ask his name, the train moved off rapidly, and I 

 lost, perhaps for ever, an opportunity of learning it, or of knowing 

 his place of residence. I hope that this may find you quite well. 

 Pray drop me a line without loss of time. My sisters send their 

 kindest love. Believe me, my dearest friend, ever most sincerely 

 yours, CHARLES WATERTON. 



