He went to the garden one clear day about
noon, and hoped to have a bout with the shade, free from interruption.
Both approached, apparently eager for the combat, and resolved to
conquer or die, when a villanous cloud happening to intercept the light,
gave the shadow an opportunity of disappearing; and Neal found himself
once more without an opponent.
"It's aisy known," said Neal, "you haven't the blood in you, or you'd
come up to the scratch like a man."
He now saw that fate was against him, and that any further hostility
towards the shadow was only a tempting of Providence. He lost his
health, spirits, and everything but his courage. His countenance became
pale and peaceful looking; the bluster departed from him; his body
shrunk up like a withered parsnip. Thrice was he compelled to take in
his clothes, and thrice did he ascertain that much of his time would be
necessarily spent in pursuing his retreating person through the solitude
of his almost deserted garment.
God knows it is difficult to form a correct opinion upon a situation
so paradoxical as Neal's was. To be reduced to skin and bone by the
downright friendship of the world, was, as the sagacious reader will
admit, next to a miracle. We appeal to the conscience of any man who
finds himself without an enemy, whether he be not a greater skeleton
than the tailor; we will give him fifty guineas provided he can show
a calf to his leg.
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