minister having taken a by-path, to escape observation, found himself, when still a good way from home, under the necessity of leaping over a ditch, which intercepted him, in passing from one field to another.  He jumped; but surely no jump was ever taken so completely in, or, at least into, the dark as this.  The concussion given to his person in descending caused the helmet to become a hood; the pot slipped down over his face, and resting with the rim upon his neck, stuck fast there; enclosing his whole head as completely as ever that of a new born child was enclosed by the filmy bag, with which nature, as an indication of future good fortune, sometimes invests the noddles of her favourite offspring.  What was worst of all, the nose, which had permitted the pot to slip down over it, withstood every desperate attempt, on the part of its proprietor, to make it slip back again; the contracted part, or neck, of the patera, being of such a peculiar formation as to cling fast to the base of the nose, although it had found no difficulty in gliding along its hypothenuse.  Was ever minister in a worse plight?  Was there ever contretemps so unlucky?  Did ever any man—­did ever any minister, so effectually hoodwink himself, or so thoroughly shut his eyes, to the plain light of nature?  What was to be done?  The place was lonely; the way difficult and dangerous; human relief was remote, almost beyond reach.  It was impossible even to cry for help; or, if a cry could be uttered, it might reach, in deafening reverberation, the ear of the utterer, but it would not travel twelve inches farther in any direction.  To add to the distresses of the case, the unhappy sufferer soon found great difficulty in breathing.  What with the heat occasioned by the beating of the sun on the metal, and what with the frequent return of the same heated air to his lungs, he was in the utmost danger of suffocation.  Every thing considered, it seemed likely that, if he did not chance to be relieved by some accidental wayfarer, there would soon be death in the pot.

The instinctive love of life, however, is omni-prevalent; and even very stupid people have been found, when put to the push by strong and imminent peril, to exhibit a degree of presence of mind, and exert a degree of energy, far above what might have been expected from them, or what they were ever known to exhibit, or exert, under ordinary circumstances.  So it was with the pot-ensconced minister.  Pressed by the urgency of his distresses, he fortunately recollected that there was a smith’s shop at the distance of about a mile across the fields, where, if he could reach it before the period of suffocation, he might possibly find relief.  Deprived of his eyesight, he acted only as a man of feeling, and went on as cautiously as he could, with his hat in his hand.  Half crawling, half sliding, over ridge and furrow, ditch and hedge, somewhat like Satan floundering over chaos, the unhappy minister travelled with all possible