Upon the whole, he looked not unlike that ingenious
puzzle, called a reel in a bottle, the marvel of children (and of
some grown people too, myself for one), who can neither comprehend the
mystery how it was got in, or how it is to be taken out. The cave was
very narrow, too low in the roof to admit of his standing, or almost
of his sitting up, though he made some awkward attempts at the latter
posture. His sole amusement was the perusal of his old friend Titus
Livius, varied by occasionally scratching Latin proverbs and texts of
Scripture with his knife on the roof and walls of his fortalice, which
were of sandstone. As the cave was dry, and filled with clean straw and
withered fern, 'it made,' as he said, coiling himself up with an air
of snugness and comfort which contrasted strangely with his situation,
'unless when the wind was due north, a very passable GITE for an old
soldier.' Neither, as he observed, was he without sentries for the
purpose of reconnoitring. Davie and his mother were constantly on the
watch, to discover and avert danger; and it was singular what instances
of address seemed dictated by the instinctive attachment of the poor
simpleton, when his patron's safety was concerned.
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