They stood still, they gazed upon each
other; as they gazed they started; their arms dropped by their sides;
they stood anxiously scrutinizing the countenance of each other, in
which each saw himself as in a glass. Astonishment deprived them of
strength; they forgot the purpose for which they met; they stretched
forth their hands, they grasped them together, and stood eagerly looking
into each other's eyes.
"Friend," said the ensign, "this is indeed singular; our extraordinary
resemblance to each other fills me with amazement. What is your name?
from whence do you come?"
"Whoy, master," rejoined the other, "thou art so woundy like myself,
that had I met thee anywhere but in the middle o' these folk, I should
have been afeared that I was agoing to die, and had zeen mysel'. My name
is George Prescot, at your sarvice. I coom from three miles down the
river there; and what may they call thee?"
"My name," replied the soldier, "is Charles Sim. I am an orphan; my
parents I never saw. And tell me--for this strange resemblance between
us almost overpowers me--do yours live?"
"Whoy," was the reply, "old Tom Prescot and his woif be alive; and they
zay as how they be my vather and moother, and I zuppose they be; but
zoom cast up to them that they bean't.
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