CHAP. LXVIII.

I THOUGHT Mr. Draper the true ſtandard for imitation, and reſolv⯑ed to copy his manner; but, for the blood of me, I could not hit him off. The air of his walk was my firſt ob⯑ject; there was ſometimes a trip, ſome⯑times a ſwagger, and ſometimes a kind [2]of care-for-nothing ſaunter in his mo⯑tions, that in him were becoming; but at ſecond-hand exhibited a drollery truly laughable: the trip had well nigh tilted me upon my noſe; the ſwagger made me ſtrike the arm of a lady, to the great injury of her ruffle, for which I had like to have been rewarded with a broken head, by a gentleman who, for ought I know, might be her huſ⯑band; and, in trying to catch the ſaun⯑ter, I only ſucceeded in the care-for⯑nothing part of the buſineſs, which conducted me into a kennel, that conveniently ran by the ſide of the pavement, from which I had deviat⯑ed. This unſucceſsful mimicry gave ſuch pleaſure to the moſt poliſhed cha⯑racter of the age, that he very plenti⯑fully wept with laughter, and, when I [3]was making the effort to ſwing my cane with a ſuitable careleſſneſs, (by which I chuck'd it againſt the chin of a chairman, who damn'd me for a ſaucy raſcal, and ran away with my proper⯑ty;) it was too much to bear, and he ſupported himſelf againſt a door-poſt, from dropping down dead in the ſtreet a victim to riſibility. Piqued a little at this, I propos'd phlebotomy, and offered to ſend for a ſurgeon, but Draper perceiving a crowd beginning to cluſter (for it is incredible how few moments are neceſſary to collect a mob in London) he got the better of his convulſion, and aſking my par⯑don, walk forward: I forgave him in expreſſion, but the inſult and the inhoſpitality ſunk deep into my heart, [4]and whether it was benevolent in [...] or not, I wiſhed for nothing half ſo much as an occaſion of revenge: and this, I think, was the ſecond inſtance I detected in myſelf a propenſity to recriminate. It will, however, he conſidered that I was now launched into the world; my village-notions were wearing off; town maxims were ſucceeding; and I am much afraid we ſhall always be found to loſe our amiable ſimplicity, in proportion as we engage ourſelves in active ſcenes, and procure that ſort of knowledge which ariſes from ſuch engagements.

At all events, however, I was re⯑ſolved to decline all imitations for the future, and ſtick to the original, un⯑couth as it might be. Better, thought I, to be naturally clowniſh, than af⯑fectedly [5]ridiculous; and perhaps this well-bred town will ſoon give me as delicate a poliſh as the beſt of them. Draper, it is moſt likely, ſaw my chagrin, and with a flippancy pecu⯑liar to himſelf, rallied me upon it. Oh thou ſimpleton! cried he, in a world like this, to ſacrifice a ſingle moment to the ſpleen; but, above all things, to let an harmleſs piece of jo⯑cularity make thee grave. To laugh, Mr. Draper, ſaid I, you know is ex⯑quiſite; but to be the ſubject of de⯑riſion, is the agony of the damned. Pſhaw, anſwered Draper, not amongſt friends. He who furniſhes the moſt amuſement, is the moſt agreeable companion; and to ſhew you that I really think ſo, I charge you to have as much laugh out of me, as you [6]poſſibly can; and before half the day is over, a precious morſel you'll find me, I promiſe you. Look, if Tom Spangle is not croſſing the way —the fineſt lad in the univerſe, Be⯑nignus: you muſt know him; I'll in⯑troduce you directly. With this Mr. Draper ſkipped over the ſtreet, with the heel of a Mercury, caring ſix pence neither for the ſoul or body of the poor devil whom he left to ſcamper after him: and nice, indeed, even to the verge of a miracle, was my eſcape; for in attempting to be at the oppoſite pavement as ſoon as he, I was hemmed, in the very middle of the ſtreet, by a preſs of coaches on the one hand, and a dreadful length of drays on the other, while the claſh of wheels, the thunder of oaths, and [7]the ſmack of whips, reſounded on all ſides: at length, however, I got ſafe to Mr. Draper, to whom I would not complain of my terrors, and he in⯑ſtantly put my hand into the ſoft, and white palm, of Mr. Tom Spangle.

Never were the exteriors of two people more exactly contraſted than the exteriors of Draper and Spangle, the latter being the ſleekeſt, ſlimmeſt, and moſt ſhivering little creature, that ever "ſhuddered at a breeze." The chin was as ſmooth as the lips of a lady, and the limbs as unſubſtan⯑tially delicate as thoſe which belong to the greyhounds of Italy, and the tender proprietor of this perſon was juſt ſtepping into a milliner's ſhop, to recruit himſelf with Hungary water. We ſtopped him at the door, and I [8]ſhall give the reader, with all poſſible regard to truth, an abſtract of the converſation which now paſſed be⯑tween Mr. Draper and his friend. And ſo, you would not come amongſt us yeſterday, ſays Spangle; you loſt much of your dearly beloved laugh, I can tell you that; we had ſome of the ſweeteſt ſport in nature: rather fa⯑tiguing, indeed, but the variety ren⯑dered it enchanting. Aye, indeed, replied Draper, how did you go on? This is no place, child, anſwered Spangle, to enter into the agreeable particulars; the next door is a coffee⯑room, you ſee.—They went into the coffee-houſe, ſeated themſelves with⯑out ceremony, placed me in the middle, and thus Mr. Spangle, with⯑out any reſpect to the company in [9]the room, continued his narrative: Now, Draper, I muſt tell you, that it was a complete day of rattle and ex⯑taſy, and if my nerves had not been monſtrouſly in tune, I muſt have abſolutely expired of an exceſs of bliſs: never ſpent ſo exquiſite a day in my life, and a faſt day into the bargain!—Such a put of a parſon; but the organ made us amends; for we all went to the chapel, becauſe you know who always ſits in the pew facing the pulpit. What a pret⯑ty puritan it is! Lord Dazzle drew her eyes from the prayer-book more than once. Lovebook thought to at⯑tract her by his voice, and ſo read the Pſalms louder than the clark; ſir Charles Crazy focuſs'd her through an opera-glaſs; but, Jeſus! George, what [10]are all the tricks of arts, to the charms of nature!—I was only in—a mere undreſs—and made a conqueſt in half an hour. Really, cried Draper, with a very grave face! True, on my ve⯑racity, anſwered Spangle: about the middle of the Litany I made an im⯑preſſion; the Epiſtle and Goſpel ſet her a trembling; the ſecond leſſon (that, you know, comes next) was ſomething about Peter or Paul, (I forgot which) marrying and burning; and this, as I fixed my eyes upon her, threw her into a celeſtial confuſion, as much as to ſay, that Spangle is a divine fellow!—at the end of the Communion, ſhe cried out with great fervour, Lord have mercy upon us! and before Orthodox had half done his ditty, which was all about the [11]obligations to charity — you know what a Jew he is—the ſmelling bottle was at her noſe, and in five minutes afterwards, as I now purſued my ad⯑vantages, her face turned quite red; and, to my eternal honour, and then immortal triumph, I drove her fairly out of church. The congregation roſe to ſtare, the girl held down her head, as if ſhe had been doing pe⯑nance in a white ſheet, tottered through the aile, as if ſhe would ſink upon one of the old ſtone tombs, and ſome of the people, methought, look⯑ed at me, as they would ſay, Yes, yes, Mr. Spangle—it's all over with her.—She's breeding, I ſuppoſe, for all her piety!

He pauſed, and hummed an air. And do you think, ſir, ſaid I to [12]Spangle, there was any thing ſo ſu⯑perlatively pleaſurable in ſending a young woman from divine ſervice, by dint of ſtare? Pleaſurable! echoed Spangle; Why, ſir, ſhe's modeſt. Does that make it more honourable in you, to look that modeſty out of coun⯑tenance?—Certainly, ſaid he: to tri⯑umph over a girl who goes to church four times a week, who pretends to ſuch a curſed deal of devotion, and has always a—a—a—beſides, ſhe's un⯑comeatable. How do you know that? ſays Draper. Why, anſwers Spangle, as ſoon as old Orthodox had mum⯑belled over his ſermon, and diſmiſſed us with the "Peace of God," I gave my party the ſlip, and drove to Strawby's. Not to be got, though I offered a thouſand for her privy purſe: [13]the jade wanted to fob me off with the firſt taſte of the mercer's wife, who is to meet colonel Sweeps this evening; the woman's handſome, and deſireable, but Strawby has only been after her a fortnight—beſides, ſhe's really married, and I deteſt adul⯑tery. 'Tis one of my crying ſins, you muſt know, Draper. So then, you have no hopes of this religious lady, (cries Mr. Draper, who main⯑tained very ſerious features during this diſcourſe.) Why yes, replied Spangle, upon the whole, I think I have, for Strawby is to ſet all wheels to work. She is, it ſeems, an only child, and ſo is curſedly cloſe attend⯑ed by her mother: luckily, the father is dead, and the girl looks divinely in mourning. Here I felt a tear up⯑on [14]my cheek, which was not, how⯑ever, detected by either of my com⯑panions; and the amiable Mr. Spangle went on in this manner.

CHAP. LXIX.

Strawby, it ſeems, knows a girl who keeps a young fellow, who is very intimate in the family, and who is beſides in the good graces of the old woman, the mother: now the ſcheme is, to get this girl, to get this man, to get this woman. As how, ſaid Draper.—My blood ran cold through my veins, and my heart lay freezing at my breaſt.—As how? re⯑plied Draper. Why, this kept man, you may be ſure, rejoined Spangle, [15]wants caſh. I will meet him at Straw⯑by's (who will invite him), as if by accident; then I will take ſuch a liking to him, as to be afterwards often in his company. After this we will go to the church, where Miſs Dian Dick—a—a—I was going to tell her name; but as this gentleman, (pointing to me,) is a ſtranger, and as it is an affair of honour, he will ex⯑cuſe me: ſo as I was ſaying, I will pretend to be deeply ſmitten, and talk about laying fortune and perſon at her feet. This induces the fellow, (by this time my faſt friend,) to poſt away to the mother's houſe, which you know is at the bottom of St. James's ſtreet.—Piſh, curſe my blun⯑dering head—but her name is ſacred. I ſhall then ſoon pay a viſit in form— [16]then come to your call-in as-it hap⯑pens—then to your how-do-you fa⯑miliars—then alarm the girl into a paſſion—tattle about ſettlements— bring a proper attorney with parch⯑ments—ſcheme a ſhort delay—indulge endearment—ſet out together for an airing—drive about till it is duſk, and ſo then to Strawby's—(here he ſnapped his fingers, in a kind of vic⯑torious flouriſh over his head)—I ſtart⯑ed up, and exclaimed, in a ſtern voice. And what then, ſir?—Why then, ſir, replied Spangle, cooly, we may poſſibly take our chocolate in bed the next morning, and the night afterwards ſhe will be very much at your ſervice. What, don't you intend to make her your wife then, ſir? ſaid I. Make her my wife? replied the [17]beau, in a faint, frighted voice— Would you have me run my neck into another halter? Then you are already eſpouſed! To the fineſt wo⯑man in the three kingdoms, and as much above this dingy Diana, as Cleo⯑patra was to that old crooked crump of a thing in the bar—uttering the compariſon loud enough for a woman unhappily deformed to hear him, as ſhe was purſuing her buſineſs. Mr. Draper, ſaid I, if you'll favour me with direction to this Taylor, I will go and find him out; for in the company of a man who flies openly in the face of his God, and rejoices in the fall of beauty and innocence, I can really ſtay no longer. The pale creamy face of Mr. Spangle, immediately ſhifted to a more ſanguine hue, and he pertly [18]ſaid, he did nothing which made him aſhamed to face his God, and that if I would walk into a more private apartment, he would convince me that he was not afraid to face a man; looking at the ſame time at me, from head to foot, as if he thought me a boy. And now came on Mr. Dra⯑per's laughing time, for ſometimes he ſoothed, ſometimes encouraged, ſometimes provoked both; yet ap⯑peared all along the diſpaſſionate and zealous friend of both: I told him that I had nobler reaſons than any proceeding from fear, for declining to diſpute with him. If you ſhould change your mind, ſir, replied Spangle, taking a piece of paper from his pocket-book, and penciling his name upon it—I am always found [19] there, ſir, toſſing the addreſs to me with an air of diſdain, and offering to go out. Nay, nay, fy, gentlemen, cried Draper, interpoſing: don't be grave about trifles, let me put your hands together: to be ſure, you have both ſaid a word too much, and ſome people would have a meeting upon it: but, hang it, the girl is not worth duelling for; at leaſt, drop it for the preſent, and let us have a friendly cup of coffee together.

Excuſe me, George, ſays the beau, walking away in a flurry: I muſt not have my morals diſputed with impu⯑nity. Sir, you will hear from me ſhortly. So ſaying, he threw down ſix pence on the board, toſſed himſelf into a ſedan, twitched the curtains round on all ſides, and was bobbed [20]off, before he had finiſhed the ſtory of felicity, and his adventures on a day devoted to faſting and prayer. As ſoon as he was gone, Draper, who had been upon the whole un⯑uſually ſerious, now gave way to the fun of his temper, and diſcovered at once his own character, and that of Spangle, in a ſtyle equally ludicrous, and licentious. That fellow, ſir, ſays he, is the ſtrangeſt mortal upon the face of the earth: three or four years ago, he was as jolly and hearty a looking man as myſelf; but his paſ⯑ſion for women has made him what you ſee. Variety and difficulty equally diſtinguiſh his amours: for he never ſees the ſame woman twice (except his wife, with whom he never ſteeps); and if any of his objects are obtained [21]without great pains, and proportio⯑nate charge, he takes the firſt oppor⯑tunity, after poſſeſſion, not only to leave, but diſgrace her! Can there, ſaid I, poſſibly be ſuch a devil in the form of a man! Without anſwering me, Draper proceeded.

CHAP. LXX.

Now you muſt know, I hate diffi⯑culty, though I have no objection to variety. I am in friendſhip with this coxcomb, therefore, merely on the ſcore of convenience. For, as he never repeats his viſit to his ladies, and ranſacks both town and country for ſuch as are the moſt virtuous and [22]celebrated, for the ſatisfaction of a ſingle hour, I always have them [...] moſt as ſoon as himſelf, without [...] trouble of dangling after them [...] debauching them; ſo that I hav [...] [...] the enjoyment, without a ſpice of the wickedneſs; and if a man can be good on ſuch eaſy terms, he is a [...] you know to refuſe them; becauſe that would be doing the devil's [...] for nothing. As to ſighting, you need be under no apprehenſions on that head, for I promiſe you, he will not draw his ſword to ſettle much worſe words than have paſſed between you and him: he is the greateſt coward in Europe; and, between you and I, can neither give ſatisfaction to man or woman: though he is con⯑ſtantly in quarrels, and has either [23]bought himſelf off battles, or hired people to take up his cauſe, fifty times. But come, Benignus, more of this another opportunity: we have fueled away above an hour with this fopling, and we will now call on my taylor. He roſe, and ſettled for our chocolate, with the crooked woman at the bar, and then ſaying he ſhould return in a minute, went into the yard.

The reader, it is hoped, is by this time ſufficiently acquainted with me, to be certain I did not allow the mi⯑nute of his abſence to paſs by, with⯑out pouring forth the reflections that the tranſactions of the morning had excited. What a pair of precious fel⯑lows, ſaid I, are here: a ſeducer of the modeſt, and a receiver of the ſeduced. [24]One glorying becauſe his impudence drove a lady from her devotions, and the other in expectation of enjoying the benefit of the intrigue, ſhould it be ultimately ſucceſsful! Then the dark plot laid againſt the virtue of this young lady—the laſt lovely prop of her widowed mother, now mourn⯑ing the loſs of a huſband. I ſhudder at the danger which hovers over the relicts of this amiable houſe—And yet how is the miſchief—how is the impending miſery to be prevent⯑ed?

Chance frequently orders the mat⯑ter better, infinitely better, than con⯑trivance; perhaps, that very ſtroke which we call chance, is in reality the wiſdom of preter-natural direction; and in that caſe the difference lies [25]only in the word, while the meaning is the ſame. As I was deliberating on the means by which poor Diana might be reſcued from diſhonour, I put my hand into my pocket to take out my handkerchief, in doing which I dropped one of my gloves, and, in ſtooping to take it up, I ſaw a pocket⯑book lying under the table, which I found had accidentally been left by Spangle, when he gave me his ad⯑dreſs; and I was juſt proceeding with it to the bar-keeper, with a proper charge to deliver it to the gentleman, ſhould he enquire for it, when the return of Mr. Draper made me think it better to give it him, as a friend who might have an earlier opportu⯑nity of delivering it. Fortunately, however (as the reader will perceive [26]in the ſequel), Draper had none of that troubleſome punctilio about him, which would have deterred me from invading the ſecrets of this private repoſitory, on any conſideration what⯑ever. Indeed, this gentleman had a ſtrange mixture of heterogeneous qua⯑lities in his character, the true colour of which was not to be aſcertained at one ſitting; and he painted himſelf in the end much livelier, and truer, than it was in the power of any other perſon to depict him. The moment he caſt his eye on the pocket-book, he ſeized it as a prize, and ſwore it muſt be one of the greateſt curioſities in the world. A pocket-book, Be⯑nignus, is the man of pleaſure's com⯑panion, or a polite directory to all places of faſhionable reſort; as ne⯑ceſſary [27]to us, my dear boy, as our ſhirts, and appropriated to nearly the ſame uſe, viz. to conceal ſecrets. As ſoon as we have ſeen Skain, we will ſaunter homewards through the Mall, and enjoy this delightful treat which Spangle has unintentionally afforded us. We now left the cof⯑fee-room, and as we walked along, I aſked Draper if he thought it quite delicate to open the pocket-book. There you go, anſwered he; that damned delicacy has made all the young men and women mere bluſh⯑ing babies: our novels, plays, and converſations, are now conducted with ſo much refinement; nay our very ſermons—I ſhould ſay our moral eſſays, are ſo confounded delicate, that we are for ever talking about it, [28]and about it, without having the cou⯑rage to ſpeak out: and yet what is all this delicacy but circumlocutory licen⯑tiouſneſs; honeſt matter of fact, dreſt in a veil of gauſe, the diſguiſe ſeen through with half an eye? Nay, it were no difficult point to prove that the ribaldry of Lord Rocheſter is infinitely leſs pernicious than the de⯑ſcription of ſcenes drawn by thoſe gen⯑try, who pique themſelves upon their fine feelings. Bawdry, Sir, candied over by ſentiment, is ſwallowed eagerly by the coyeſt maiden in the world; but—oh rude wretch! She abominates the wri⯑ter, who ſays the ſame thing in a plain⯑er way. What would you infer from theſe remarks, Mr. Draper, ſaid I▪ I hate argument, my dear fellow, ſaid Draper, and ſo let us make the beſt of [29]our way to Skain's, and then I will give you an inſtance of my delicacy with reſpect to the pocket-book. A few mi⯑nutes ſmart walking brought us to a ſtreet, where Draper preſently rapp'd at the door of a handſome houſe, and enquired for Mr. Skain; and, upon being told he was at home, we were begged to walk for a moment into a parlour, till Mr. Skain could be called. This parlour, its furniture, and the look of the ſervant, beſpoke ſomething ſo much beyond any idea I had con⯑ceived, of a taylor, that I made no ſcru⯑ple of aſking Draper what apartments in ſo faſhionable a houſe Skain could poſſibly occupy. This was a ſweet queſtion for the conſtitution of my companion, who enjoyed once more, at my expence, the exquiſite pleaſure of [30]laughing; though, where the joke lies in laughing at a man's ſeeming igno⯑rant of what he never had an oppor⯑tunity of knowing, I really cannot tell. In the midſt of the merriment, in came a ſomebody, in a green velvet cap, li⯑nen night-gown, laced waiſtcoat, fill ſtockings, and Morocco flippers: Aye, Skain, how do you do? I have brought you a young cuſtomer, a man of fa⯑ſhion, juſt come to his eſtate: he is my moſt particular friend, and you muſt be with him to-morrow at Mrs. Darlington's, in Cavendiſh Square. I ſhould as ſoon have ſuſpected Draper himſelf to have been a weilder of the gooſe and ſciffars, as this identical Mr. Skain, who liſtened to my friend's ha⯑rangue, without any thing approach⯑ing to that cringe and congee, ſo inci⯑dental [31]to the character in the country. So far, however, was he from cring⯑ing, that he reſted his bum againſt a table, with all the important lounge of a nobleman, played a ſort of tune with his ſingers upon the ſide of his gown, and ſtroaked his beard with the other hand, till Mr. Draper had finiſh⯑ed; after which, without once drop⯑ping his dignity, he began.

CHAP. LXXI.

To-morrow, Sirl God bleſs your ſoul, my dear Mr. Draper, I could not ſpare five minutes to-morrow for five hun⯑dred pounds. I have ſuch an ocean of work in hand, and all to be done by [32]Saturday night, that I could diſpenſe with forty hands more than I have al⯑ready.—Beſides, there's Lady Luſ [...]'s new liveries, and Lady Fade's mourn⯑ing muſt poſitively be finiſhed this week. I am highly proud of the Lo⯑nour, and ſhall take a pleaſure in ſerv⯑ing the gentleman; but you know our predicament: our cuſtomers are all in a hurry, and I am ſo much in the death and marriage-way, that I can ſcarce call a moment my own for a mouthful of victuals. I am likewiſe at this inſtant equipping an heir for this world, and an old fellow for the other (who, by the bye ought to have died ſeven years ago), and the widow is as anxious to put on black, to tell her acquaintance ſhe is her own miſ⯑treſs, as the heir to get out of his ſa⯑bles, [33]and tell the women he is a match for any fortune amongſt them. If the young gentleman could wait, there⯑fore, for a few days till—Lookee, Skain, anſwered Draper, I inſiſt on your being with my friend in the morning; he is juſt from the country, and cannot go into public for want of proper cloaths. Well, Sir, replied Skain, in a more ſubmiſſive voice, if that is the caſe, I will ſit up with my men night and day, or throw ſome of the work in hand by—for one can make free with old cuſtomers—rather than diſtreſs a gentleman; and, indeed, I perceive — Here Mr. Skain lifted up my coat by the pocket flap—I per⯑ceive the gentleman has been in bad hands; he has been, as I often ſay, among the butchers of broad-cloth, [34]and ruiners of raiment:—In this face⯑tious ſtrain was our gentleman-taylor proceeding, when the parlour-door opened, and enlarged our ſociety by the addition of a perſon who was an⯑nounced to be Mr. Thrift, the taylor's attorney, and who had babbled out his buſineſs, not much in the way of his profeſſion, without any regard to ſtrangers, the moment he entered. To the credit of the trade, however, I muſt confeſs this was one of the rotten limbs, and not one of the found mem⯑bers of the law; a dirty, dark, drudg⯑ing character, to whom no man of re⯑putation would intruſt his buſineſs, nor any but creatures like himſelf be⯑come clients. Well, friend Skain, we have nabbed him at laſt; Maſter Dudge is a moſt indefatigable fellow; as ſure [35]of his prey as a kite. Ay, aye, he has him at laſt, locked up in Holborn: a fine proſpect of a grated window be⯑fore him: ſeven writs after him—hea⯑vy charges, Mr. Skain! I don't care a farthing for that, (cries Skane in an ex⯑taſy) as we have got him in limbo, my heart is eaſy, and I ſhall reſt quiet in my bed. In limbo he is then, I pro⯑miſe you, replied Thrift, and likely to remain there till an act; for I know ſeveral tradeſmen, beſides you, who have bills againſt him, and I now think it my duty as an honeſt man, to ac⯑quaint them, they may renew their writs, and lodge their detainers. To be ſure, replied Skain, to be ſure, it behoves every Chriſtian to ſerve an⯑other in this caſe, for the good of trade is concerned in theſe caſes, and ſuch [36]a fellow ſhould be puniſhed as an ex⯑ample: he's a mere bite, Mr. Thrift— an arrant bilk; though he has an ad⯑dreſs, and I once thought him very much of a gentleman. And how came you ſo ſoon to change your mind, queſtioned Mr. Draper, who ſeemed reſolved to ſit out all diſputes. Why, as ſure as I ſtand here, Mr. Draper, I have taken pounds upon pounds of that man's money; and for ſome time he was as punctual as the pendulum: deliver a bill, and take your caſh: nay, ſometimes he would inſiſt upon my writing a receipt in full, as ſoon as the clothes were ſent home, and more than once I have been obliged to preſs credit upon him, that he might not ſuppoſe I was afraid to truſt him: but for theſe two years I can't hear that he [37]has paid any body, and yet the fellow tricks out himſelf, and his wife, and his three children, as gay and gaudy as Mr. Anybody's family: my account alone runs pretty high, but I have his body for my goods, however! And I fear, cried Thrift, ſhrugging up his ſhoulders, that is all you are ever like⯑ly to have; for I don't think the man has ſixpence to ſave his ſoul: nay I am ſure he has not, for Mr. Dodge gave me ſuch an excellent account of the manner by which he was nabb'd, that it is worth your hearing; for you muſt know—Stop a moment, dear Mr. Thrift, till I ring for ſome chocolate: do, pray Mr. Draper, and you, Sir, ſaid Skain, preſſing me to keep my ſeat, ſtay, I beſeech you, and hear the ſtory; there's nothing in my idea ſo [38]high as ſcenes of low life. To this ſpeech Draper (who loved adventures to the bottom of his heart, and who ſeldom interrupted people in the rela⯑tion of them till all was over) anſwer⯑ed only by a ſlight bow; and I ſat too much amazed to talk, conſidering the whole ſociety as a collection of devils, and equally deſpiſing the coolneſs of Draper, the malignity of Skain, and the ſcoundreliſm of the ſcrivener.

CHAP. LXXII.

Juſt as the taylor's footman (who, I can aſſure the reader, was a black, with a ſilver ſhoulder-knot) had brought the chocolate on a ſplendid waiter, a freſh [39]tap at the door introduced to us, an⯑other worthy gentleman, under the name of Mr. Dodge, a queer, quaint⯑looking little fellow, with a fly leer, arch viſage, and a black wig. Aha! cried Thrift, if here is not little Dodge himſelf! Mr. Dodge, ſays Skane, (tak⯑ing him by the dirty hand with great cordiality) I am infinitely indebted to your diligence!—I wiſhed in my heart the catchpole had broke his neck for his pains.—The gentlemen, reſumes Mr. Thrift, are deſirous to know the methods you uſed to take Maſter Sud⯑berry. Oh! cries Dodge, 'twill do your heart good to hear it: in all the time I have been in office, never ſaw ſuch a go in my life. Pray begin, ſaid Skain eagerly, quite forgetting that he could not ſpare five minutes for five [40]hundred pounds,—pray begin, [...] ▪ Dodge.—I can hardly tell you for laughing, replied this Mr. Dodge, holding his ſides. Mat Slappim, Will Trugge and I were hunting up a girl in Hedge Lane, who owed ſome three or four pound to her waſher, buſineſs being bad with her of late, as ſhe could not get out becaſe of illneſs, ſeeing as how ſhe was a little [...]allow with [...] conſumption, and ſo, gemmin refuſed her—and in looking for this ſame [...] Sal Sandy, who ſhould I ſee with his mouth wide open, as if he was a mind to make a meal of the air, but the den [...] ⯑kal [...]iſſiognemy of this Mr. Sudberry. I tips Slappim the [...]ligo, and nudges the elbow of Trugge, as much as to ſay, [...]olio!—I have him in view. The fellow ſtill kept ſucking in the ſm [...] [41]as if it was haſty-pudding, and had no ſpicion of we, till the maid opened the door, to fetch a pennurth of porter, and then we tuſſel'd her againſt the door-poſt, and made directly all three together to the garret: but the maid by this time ſpecting us, cried out to her maſter, Lock the door, Sir, lock the door, here's a parcel of baillees in the houſe: with that his ſpouſe (as I think it was by her running) faſtened the door, and drew the bolt acroſs in a curſ⯑ed fluſter; and, to make it the more ſecurer (for women, you know, gen⯑tlemen, are for always overdoing the thing) ſhe ſet the chairs and tables againſt it. Now, your honours muſt know that we dare as well be d—d as break a lock, though it's law to lift a batch: ſo what does me I, but, ſeeing [42]as how the woman belonging to the houſe was a poor honey, I lays me down at the ſtop of the ſtairs, and threaten⯑ed to ſtarve them out; for, you know, we are all forced to eat, an' the devil himſelf ſtood at the door. All this time Sudberry (for whom I always had the needful in my pocket) ſaid never a word, but kept puſſing and catching at the breath, like a broken-winded horſe; for I finds he has your arſe-mak⯑cack diſorder upon him, and they ſay, air is the beſt thing in the world for that. Mrs. Sudberry, (a fine creature as ever you ſaw, gentlemen,) began to argufy with us, touching our going oſt the premiſes, and upon my ſoul, talked over the thing in ſuch a moving manner, every now and then ſtopping [43]to ſob, that if it had not been doing an injury to Mr. Skain here, I could have found in my heart to have left um. But I am but an humble ſervant of his majeſty's, and muſt do my duty according to my conſcience. This made me go through it. We ſtayed in this manner about four hours, till the watchmen went about; then, as ſure as you are alive, the woman called out to Martin Napguard, and ſaid rob⯑bers and ruſſians were broke in to the houſe, and inſiſted upon his taking us to the watch-houſe. Lord help her head! How little ſhe knows who and who's together. Robbers, ma'am! cri⯑ed Napguard: I can't take them out of the houſe, if it were full—but, if you deliver them to me on the outſide the door, then I can charge them in [44]the king's name, and take them away. This ſet us all a laughing. Pray, Ma⯑dam, ſaid Slappim, (who is as great a wit as any in England, and has as much to ſay for himſelf)—pray, deliver us on the outſide the door, and then we will all go jollily to priſon toge⯑ther. To make ſhort of the matter, it began to grow late, and ſo, hearing as how they were drawing the cur⯑tains, and preparing for bed, without caring for ſupper, I and my compani⯑ons went to bed too.—And where might you ſleep, pray? ſaid Mr. Dra⯑per. At the ſtair-head, your honour, replied the bailiff; and a very good lodging too. But in the middle of the night, Sudberry began to grunt worſe than ever—the children ſet up their pipes between-whiles, for bread, [45]and the mother was one time kiſſing one, then the other, then chearing up the huſband, while we got ſome liquor from next door, made the landlady tipſy, and was ſure of our game in the morning. But cuſs me, if that Mrs. Sudberry is not a match for all the officers in town. She's a deep one, I promiſe you—In the morning, d—n my eyes, gentlemen, if ſhe did not fairly bilk us, do what we would. How was that, Maſter Dodge? ſaid Skain, a little diſappointed—There is a little back room, continued Dodge, about a yard wide, with a little peep⯑hole of a caſement, juſt big enough to heave in a twopenny loaf, and a ſmall tea-kettle: into this window ſhe drew her victuals, throwing a ſtring to the [46]maid to tie, fed her children, boiled a little broth in a cann for her huſband, and threatened to do ſo till Sunday, when you know the law—the more's the pity for the nation—does not ſuffer us to do buſineſs.

This ſcheme put us all to our wits end, and we now began to be faucy a little, hoping to make her huſband in a paſſion, and ſo open the door. Trugge, therefore, (who has a foul mouth of his own, when he pleaſes.) talked balderdaſh to Mrs. Sudberry, through the key-hole, which ſhe did not anſwer, for, indeed, ſhe ſeems a civil ſpoken woman, truly: but Slap⯑pim ſaid ſommit to riſe the huſband at laſt, and without more ado, quite forgetting his ſickneſs, he burſt [47]the door open in an inſtant, with a drawn ſword in his hand—(an old black one though, without a handle) and ſwore he would ſtab the firſt man upon earth, that ſhould dare to re⯑ſult his wife. This was juſt what we wanted; and while I beat off his ſword with my ſtick, in this manner —(here the bailiff ſtood on the de⯑ſenſive) Trugge tripped up his heels behind, and Slappim gave him a douſe on the ſhoulder.—Then off we carried him, hooting through the ſtreets, and you would have died a laughing to have ſeen us march: it was for all the world like a burien. Slappim and Trugge walked with him in their arms (for he could not ſtand, and had never a ſhilling for a coach), [48]I ſtrutted as head mourner, or ra⯑ther as parſon: Mrs. Sudberry came crying after, and the three birds whimpering along, got faſt hold of the mother's gown, and ſung through the noſe, in a ſorrowful merry man⯑ner, the dead man's pſalm.

At the concluſion of this narrative, Mr. Dodge twitched his wig, ſtroaked the ſtock which was tied round the neck that would have diſgraced a halter, and looked at every ſpecta⯑tor for applauſe; as if he had really been doing the moſt meritorious ac⯑tion upon earth.

CHAP. LXXIII.

There are many occaſions where language is extremely inadequate to expreſs our ſenſations. The preſent was one of them. My anxiety, as Shake⯑ſpear has it, "beggared all deſcrip⯑tion," and I was unable to tell my deteſtation, or my pity. As ſoon as Dodge had done, Draper roſe from his chair, with a ſedater ſet of fea⯑tures than uſual, and demanded Dodge's direction, which being ob⯑tained, he ordered Skain to ſend his fellow for a hackney-coach; and while it was gone for, he aſſumed a ſtill ſeverer look, and addreſſed the company in this manner. Do you [50]know now, gentlemen, that I look upon you as three of the completeſt ſcoundrels in the whole world, and not a pin to chooſe as to the raſcallity of either. Is this your combined juggle to torment a fellow-creature. If you were in my houſe, I would lead you all out by the noſe. Is this the practice of an attorney? Shame upon you! Why do I call you an attorney! Reptiles like you are the men who bring diſgrace and diſhonour on the profeſſion—you lay yourſelves out for every dirty jobb—encourage the tra⯑der in his uncompaſſionate reſolu⯑tions—involve both debtor and cre⯑ditor, plaintiff and defendant, in ru⯑inous and unneceſſary conteſt, and are the vile inſtruments by which men are often engaged in diſpute, who, with⯑out [51]your villainous interpoſition, would live harmoniouſly and neighbourly to⯑gether.—Sir, anſwered Thrift, I am not uſed to this treatment, and I ſhall be tempted to bring my action, if— Action, raſcal! replied Mr. Draper, begone, and take care you don't tempt me to an action that may rob the gal⯑lows of its property. Well, well— very fine, very fine, upon my ſoul, cried Thrift, trembling and riſing, pretty uſage this, for a man of my pro⯑feſſion—however, it is well I am pro⯑vided with witneſſes: pray hold your⯑ſelves in readineſs, gentlemen, I ſhall ſummon you as evidences of the aſ⯑fault, and ſo, Sir, your ſervant! I'll do you over with a ſlip of parchment, I warrant you. As he opened the door, Dodge made an effort to ſteal [52]out with him, ſagaciouſly preſuming, that if Thrift was a ſcoundrel, he could not himſelf be thought an honeſt man: but Mr. Draper plucked him back by the ſkirts, and inſiſted on his taking his ſhare of admonition. And you, Mr. Mancatcher, cried Draper, by what ſtatute or clauſe in an act of parlia⯑ment are you permitted to treat the unfortunate in this barbarous manner: what right have you to inſult a poor man and his family, by your looſe jeſts, ribaldry, and obſcenity? Who gave you authority to trip up a gen⯑tleman's heels, and by what licence is it, that you dare to make a riot and diſturbance at any perſon's door at all? Much leſs to continue there like an aſ⯑ſaſſin all night. If it had been my caſe, ſirrah, I would have made no heſita⯑tion [53]of ſhooting you through the head, or running you through the body as a thief. Purſue your infamous avoca⯑tion openly and fairly, but I will be at ſome little pains to ſee whether you are to turn houſebreaker, and knock a man down to get at him.

While Mr. Draper was expoſtulating in this manner, Dodge played with his hat, bit his nails, changed colour, hung his head, ſhook his ears, and ſlunk after Thrift, in a pitiful and cowardly condition: for let this be adopted as a rule, that thoſe who exiſt by pro⯑moting the anxiety of others, and take the bread out of the mouth of the wretched, or are in any other way the miniſters of inhumanity and oppreſ⯑ſion, are invariably a mean daſtardly ſet of poltroons, afraid to meet the eye [54]of a man, or to look but for a ſingle into their own frightful boſoms. When Dodge diſappeared, Draper addreſſed himſelf to the taylor, who, ever ſince the diſcourſe began, ſat leaning his el⯑bow on the table, as if he had been ſtunned; for Draper being a man of very extenſive connections, Skain, who was a mere uſurer at the bottom, would almoſt as ſoon have ſet his pri⯑ſoner at liberty, as have offended ſo excellent a cuſtomer.—As for you, Skain, proceeded Draper, I bluſh for you. You, Sir, who have realized a fortune, by a commerce with people of fortune; nay, who have by your own confeſſion, received obligations from the very man whom you are thus vigilant and induſtrious to per⯑ſecute: is not half your profit contin⯑gent [55]upon credit, and are you not ſo much aware of this, as frequently to force that credit upon gentlemen much to their diſinclination, and ſtill more to their diſadvantage? But why do I waſte time in remonſtrances with a fellow, whom impoſition has enabled to ſet up a chariot: a wretch whoſe extortions have been the total deſtruc⯑tion of many a minor, and who is a ſcandal to the fair-dealing tradeſman. I have done with you, Sir, and I will take care that all my friends ſhall have done with you too—I deſire you will ſend in my accompt directly, and I will never have the leaſt intercourſe with you after it is paid. Such was now the meanneſs of this fellow, that when Mr. Draper was taking me by the hand, and preparing to depart, he [56]ſaid, if he pleaſed to continue his cuſ⯑tom, he would releaſe Mr. Sudberry. That you ſhall not, Mr. Taylor, ſaid I, contemptuouſly, I'll aſſure you: Come, Mr. Draper, let us go immedi⯑ately to the bailiffs. Puppy, cried Draper (turning upon Skain as he was going out) Mr. Sudberry would ſcorn to owe even his liberty to ſuch a wretch—I have already heard enough to convince me he would rot inch by inch in his jail, rather than be releaſed by his perſecutor. Benignus, I am at your ſervice; let us go and prevent this fellow, and his precious group of friends, from triumphing over the ſick and the unhappy: Drive, coachman, to Dodge's lock-up-houſe, Holborn bars.

CHAP. LXXI.

Among the peculiar pleaſures of human life are, agreeable ſurprizes. This laſt ſtroke of conduct ſo reconcil⯑ed me to Mr. Draper, that I looked at him with tranſport, and again thought him one of the worthieſt of men. A little eccentric and irregular, ſaid I to myſelf, a little out of the common road, but not the leſs kind or hoſpitable for that: the ſallies which look moſt ſuſpicious, are probably mere ſportiveneſs, the effects of health, high ſpirits, heat of blood, and an ani⯑mated fancy. Senſe he has evidently; wit is at his command; he is prepar⯑ing [58]to be generous, let me then not be too ſevere upon his vivacity, but allow ſo good a character, upon the whole, its pleaſantries and laugh.

We ſtopped at a houſe, fortified with bars of iron, and upon entering it, beheld Thrift and Dodge laying their heads cloſe together. Where's Mr. Sudberry? ſaid Mr. Draper. Sir, anſwered Thrift, may I crave two minutes audience of you alone: they walked together into a ſmall yard, well ſecured by a roof of beams, and this was the converſation of the ſcri⯑vener.

I ſee, ſir, you are a gentleman who knows ſomething; I am ſorry for any little warm words we may have exchanged, and I aſk your par⯑don. To your buſineſs, ſir, ſaid Mr. [59]Draper. Why, ſir, rejoined Thriſt, I find there is a little miſtake in this buſineſs; the officer has acted, ſir, without my aſſent, and ſo there is a kind of a—a—here a violent noiſe in the houſe interrupted the diſcourſe, and brought Draper back to me to enquire the occaſion, which happened to be a debate be⯑twixt Mr. Sudberry, the priſoner, and Mr. Dodge, the officer, who went in to the ſaid priſoner's little room, upon his leaving Thrift with Mr. Draper. The ſentiments which now iſſued from the key-hole of his room, were to the following pur⯑port.

Oh inhuman creature, to drag me, in this ſituation, with all my family after me, when you were conſcious [60]I had it not in my power: nay, when three weeks before, you came with that vile lawyer to my old lodgings, and ſuffered my poor wife, this dear woman, to pawn her laſt gown, and almoſt her laſt apron, to give you ci⯑vility money, that you ſhould not ſee me. Beſides this, have you not ar⯑reſted me for a falſe debt: nay, do you not know in your hearts that Mr. Skain has twice the value of my debt in his hands: has he not a picture I gave Mrs. Sudberry, on the very morning of our marriage, and which ſhe (unknown to me, till lately, placed as a pledge with him, to prevent my being troubled long ago, when things began to run wrong with me. Oh, that I had ſome friend [61]ſnat—but I may ſtill live to ſee you ſeverely puniſhed. At the very be⯑ginning of this diſcourſe, Thrift was ſhifting towards the door, and, upon mention of the wink money, he was driving off as faſt as he could, when Draper caught him by the collar, while I, inſpired by an impulſe too powerful to be reſiſted, ſet my back againſt the door, (which was none of the ſlighteſt,) and fairly burſt it open. This violence diſcovered Mrs. Sud⯑berry and her children, weeping on a dirty floor, Mr. Sudberry ſupporting himſelf againſt a chair, arraigning the villainy of the bailiff, and lawyer, and the bailiff himſelf ſcratching his head, and beginning to think—not that he was a greater raſcal than ordinary, but that he had been a more than or⯑dinary [62]blockhead, in not taking the uſual care to keep within the letter of the law.

Intereſting, however, as the ſcene was, it was conſiderably heightened by the addition of that glorious cha⯑racter, Mr. Thrift, who, (unbraced from top to bottom, without his pe⯑riwig, which had ſorſaken his pate in the ſcuffle,) was now drawn in by the intrepid Draper, to give a ſplendid finiſhing to the drama. Several other priſoners of the place, likewiſe, and all the ſervants, (even to the continal of the ſtreet-door, which was the truſty Mr. Trugge himſelf,) came pear⯑ing into the parlour, and were vat⯑niſſes to the general confuſion. For my part, I ran inſenſibly to the ſink⯑ing Mrs. Sudberry, while the poor [63]fainting huſband encouraged his ba⯑bies, as well as he was able, not to be frighted; aſſured them their papa was well, that nobody would hurt their mamma, and that the ſtranger men were only playing in ſport. Oh my dear papa—my dear papa, give brother and I a piece of bread and butter, pray do, indeed we will be good and deſerve it—indeed we will; won't we, Patty?—I litty piece of bren e butte too, liſped a little angel, ſtill unweaned from the knee, I hungy as well as Patty. A ſervant girl, as yet unhardened by her ſervitude in the family, touched by the innocent prattle, ran down into the kitchen, and, in the confuſion, brought a lun⯑cheon of bread, which I ſeized in⯑ſtantly from her, and kneeling down, [64]diſtributed it amongſt them. Pray, ſir, give poor papa and mamma a bit, ſaid the eldeſt. I will, cried the ſe⯑cond, offering half to Mrs. Sudberry, who was ſilently thanking God on her knees—No, me vil feed my own papa, cried the ſuckling.—Poor Sud⯑berry attempted to kiſs the child, but wanting ſtrength to kneel, fell back⯑wards into my arms, yet not ſo as to hurt himſelf; when the little things had finiſhed their repaſt, and had ſipped each a little water, which the kind-hearted girl likewiſe provided, they wiped their ſweet lips each up⯑on its bib, kiſſed me round for my goodneſs, and putting their pretty palms together, thanked God for a good dinner.

[65]Meantime Draper was not idle. The truth is, he had the way now fair before him; the bailiff and ſcri⯑vener ſaw themſelves detected; they knew the ſpirited character of Mr. Draper, and they were ready to come into any terms, rather than forfeit their honourable calling.

In the firſt place, ſaid Draper, either reſtore the gentleman his picture, or releaſe him: in the next, repay him the money you extorted from him, that you might not ſee him, when you had a writ againſt his perſon. I have not got the picture, your honour, ſaid the bailiff, and if I ſhould diſ⯑charge the gemmin without conſent of plaintiff, I ſhould be fixed with debt and coſts, as dead as a nail; and moreover nor that, the gemmin, [66]I underſtand is liable to more thing [...] againſt him, than this here; and if ſo be as how there ſhould be fifty retain⯑ders in the office, one upon t'other, I muſt anſwer 'em all, and that there Mr. Thrift knows well enough elſe I am ſure I would not mind the value of Mr. Skain's matter, the wipe of my finger. As you pleaſe, ſir, ſays Draper; then I will be bail for this gentleman, and my friend ſhall be the other, and we will be anſwerable for every thing. Make out the bail⯑bond, and look you to the conſe⯑quence.

CHAP. LXXV.

This propoſal coming from a man of fortune, and a man acquainted with the world, was by no means agreeable either to Mr. Dodge or Mr. Thrift; for, beſides that they dread⯑ed bringing the matter before a court, they were equally in fear of the many evidences which now had it in their power to appear againſt them. Mr. Draper, however, was the laſt man in the kingdom to be trifled with, and indeed was altogether the moſt univerſal character I ever knew; as he could ſuit himſelf, with wonderful facility, to all circumſtances in ſo⯑ciety, and was either remarkable for [68]indolence or induſtry, gaiety or gra⯑vity, as ſeemed moſt agreeable to the caſt and conſtitution of the company.

The loquacious humour, therefore, in which he was in, at Mrs. Darling⯑tons, when I ſet him down as a com⯑pound of laugh, whim, and liberty, was only the aſſumed diſpoſition of the moment, which he thought (per⯑haps juſtly) was better adapted to the ſprightly hour of breakfaſt, and the livelineſs of the ladies whom he vi⯑ſited, than the dulleſt detail of mo⯑rals, or the moſt formal lecture upon the beauty of holineſs. And this verſatility ſat ſo prodigiouſly eaſy upon him, and was an art ſo imme⯑diately upon the heel of nature, that nothing but the God of nature him⯑ſelf could know it to be imitation.

[69]But I can oblige my readers with no idea of this gentleman ſo well, as by comparing him with a perſon who, a little before the time of my retiring from the town, and the world, began to figure on the ſtage, and to aſtoniſh: ſuch of my readers, therefore, who have ſeen Mr. Gar⯑rick command the paſſions of the ſoul, and aſſume at will the charac⯑ters belonging to them; thoſe who have beheld him at one hour, the pert, ſlippant, careleſs, voluble cox⯑comb; at another, the injured, ten⯑der, choleric, heart-broken king and father; thoſe who have ſeen him on one night repreſent, and to all pal⯑pable apprehenſion, be, the haughty, diſdainful, deſigning, tyrant, and then the generous, elegant, and manly [70]lover; now inviting our admiration at the heroiſm of youth, and now exciting our compaſſion at the de⯑bility of age: thoſe, in a word, who have certainly been in a theatre (while this gentleman was acting) and yet have almoſt quarrelled with convic⯑tion, by a violent inclination to diſ⯑pute, either their being in a theatre, or that the man on the ſtage was only a clever counterfeit; thoſe, I ſay, who have been witneſſes to the changes of this amazing performer, will properly conceive of the infinite variety in the ſingle character of that ſocial Proteus, Mr. Draper.

While I have been letting the read⯑er a little more into the ſecret of my friend's character, he will pleaſe to ſup⯑poſe Meſſrs. Thrift and Dodge were [71]retired to a corner of the room, in deep conſultation; and that the Sudberrys were complimenting firſt Mr. Draper, and then me, as if we had been meſ⯑ſengers from heaven. The middle of the parlour contained the crowd of captive ſpectators, all of whom—a ſtrange mixture of men and women— triumphed extremely in the embarraſ⯑ment of the jailor, and heartily hoped to ſee both him and the ſcrivener turned off together. At length Mr. Draper ſaid, he ſhould wait their deli⯑berations no longer, he was in a hur⯑ry, and ordered him to prepare the bond, without any delay. This pro⯑duced another whiſper from Thrift, who, taking Mr. Draper gently by the coat-button, and leading him with many cringes to the window, aſked, [72]with all poſſible ſubmiſſion, whether he (Mr. Draper) knew what he was about! Do you know, my good Sir, ſaid he, do you know what you are liable to by bailing this priſoner: the clouds are very heavy over his head, and the tempeſt muſt light upon you. I can have no intereſt; nay, I ſpeak againſt myſelf, for I ſhall touch, if I make out a bail-bond for Maſter Dodge (who, between you and me, can't ſpell his own name, without I am at his elbow), ſuppoſe, therefore, I was to ſtep to Mr. Skain's, and inter⯑cede for the priſoner, whom I pity, from the very bottom of my ſoul, and perhaps, at my inſtigation, and mak⯑ing uſe of your name, he may be in⯑duced to take the debt at ſo much a week, or give him a little time to turn [73]about, or—I tell you, fellow, replied Draper, he ſhall have nothing to do with you, or Skain, or any ſuch raſ⯑cals. This is the priſoner: ſhew me the warrant, that I may know the amount of the debt. That young gen⯑tleman and myſelf are his bail, and ſo refuſe the matter at your peril—Do it this inſtant, or you will oblige me to ſend for my own attorney, who will anſwer you in a minute. Perhaps you know Mr. Tullyman of the Temple? At the name of Tullyman, Thrift ſhrunk into himſelf, and was ſilenced. Then ſpoke his illuſtrious compeer, Mr. Dodge.—Well, well, if his ho⯑nour chuſes for to go for to run all riſqueſes, he muſt. It is none of my af⯑fair: I gets nothing by priſoners more nor my dues: and ſo Mr. Thrift muſt [74]e'en get the bail-bond drawn out; ſeeing as how his honour is reſolved upon it. But his honour, I hopes, will have no objection for me, for to make a bit of an inquiration about his honour's charactur, ſeeing as how I never ſee'd his honour before; and though no doubt he is a man of fortin and pro⯑perty, his honour is a ſtranger to me, and nobody knows nobody in Lon⯑don. So if he thinks good for me to ſend Trugge into neighbourhood, and juſt ax three or four, or half a dozen of the ſhop-keepers, to know who you are, and what your honour is, I ſhall be proud to take the bail.—While Mr. Dodge was delivering this ſplendid harangue, the blood fluſhed over Mr. Draper's handſome face, and he ſlou⯑riſhed his cane in his hand, in token [75]of no very pleaſant preparation; and it is highly probable Mr. Dodge would have had a perfect knowledge of this gentleman's character, and of the heal⯑thy ſtate of his body, together with his great ſkill in the ſcience of caſtigat⯑ing a ſcoundrel, had not his friend Thrift that moment interpoſed, by de⯑claring that he knew Mr. Draper ex⯑tremely well, and would take his ſecu⯑rity for a thouſand pounds; and that if he would only anſwer for the priſo⯑ner's appearance at the return of the writ on the ſubſequent Friday, he would take the reſt upon himſelf; and, as he admired a generous action as much as any man, would get over the article of omitting to ſearch the office as well as he could.—This, however, was afterwards related to me by Mr. [76]Draper; for Thrift did not, for cer⯑tain reaſons, chuſe to utter this ſpeech before a large audience; to avoid which piece of oſtentation (like a man willing to do his generous act in as private a way as he could) he once more had recourſe to Draper's button, and led him obſequiouſly thereby into another room. At his return Mr. Draper politely and tenderly informed Mr. Sudberry, that he was now at li⯑berty to remove his family into more agreeable apartments, and ſaid he had taken the liberty to order one of the fellows to call a coach for that pur⯑poſe. Here was another inſtance, where words were mere expletives, and ſo I can only obſerve, that thoſe readers who have the beſt hearts and ſineſt heads, will have the juſteſt conceptions [77]of the ſcene which now paſſed betwixt the benefactor and the benefited. Meantime Thrift whiſpered over the perils which would probably be avoid⯑ed by this ſtep, and that it would be good law to turn out the priſoner, ra⯑ther than be turned out themſelves, which it is preſumed, might be reaſon⯑ably expected from a public explana⯑tion of this myſterious affair: Mr. Thrift's whiſper was of that kind which on the ſtage is called a ſolilo⯑quy—that is one talking as loud to himſelf as if he was in warm debate with a large ſociety. But this was the defect of his voice, which could by no management of modulation, (being na⯑turally harſh, heavy, and hoarſe,) be brought to the ſtill ſmall whiſper, or, theatrically ſpeaking, into the all alone, [78]or even half aſide; for let it likewiſe be remarked by the bye, that the ſtage talking to one's ſelf, is conſiderably more audible, than the half aſide, when others are on the ſcene.

CHAP. LXXVI.

The priſoners alſo now began to ſing forth the praiſes of generoſity, and enter into various obſervations. One ſaid, it was well for ſome folks that they could find friends in ſtran⯑gers; others remarked, that ſome people were lucky, and ſome unlucky: Ay, ſays a dry-looking fellow, ſquint⯑ing over a woman's ſhoulder, I have been here ſixteen months myſelf, and [79]could never get any body to do ſuch a turn for me, but then, indeed, I hap⯑pen to have a plain woman for my wife: here he cock'd his eye at Mrs. Sudberry, and Draper, who perfectly underſtood the inſinuation, but thought the inſinuator in no ſituation to an⯑ſwer for it, only look'd a reproach, and led the way to the coach, which was now driving up to the door. I was going to diſtribute a few guineas amongſt the multitude, but Draper preſſed me ſignificantly by the hand, and bid me aſſiſt Mrs. and Mr. Sud⯑berry to the carriage; declining that agreeable office himſelf, probably to prevent giving umbrage and counte⯑nance to the ſentiments of the other priſoner. As we paſſed along, and were placing the lady and her little [80]ones into the coach, the ingenious Mr. Dodge, with much ſimper and civility, applied his ſingers to his hat, and his nails to his head (for hitherto, from polite reaſons, he thought proper to wear his round beaver, which was rim'd with a black binding) and, in a tone betwixt ſervility and demand, thus expreſſed himſelf to Mr. Draper: I hopes as how your honour will re⯑member me for my goodneſs and u⯑manity, and the like of that, ſeeing as how I had it in my power, whether or no to let the gemmin go, without paying the money; and ſeeing as how I am ſtill ſponſor as well as your ho⯑nour, for his forthcoming as plantiff, if your honour ſhould die, being as we are all mortable, before Friday, and the gemmin ſhould go off with his bo⯑dy, [81]which, to be ſure, by law is none of his property at preſent: and beſides, furthermore than this, ater twenty⯑four hours, I could, if it wan't for my umanity, carry priſoner over the wa⯑ter; and as likewiſe I have loſt bail⯑money, and let out, gemmin, as it were, on padrowl and prorogation of honour, ſeeing as life is a lottery, and I may or may not clap eyes on him a⯑gain, becauſe hap you know is juſt as it happens; wherefore I hope my jen⯑nyroſity will be rewarded.—While Dodge was delivering theſe elegant ſenti⯑ments, I was handing in Mr. Sud⯑berry and her ſick partner, while Dra⯑per, with great gentleneſs, was placing the children as commodiouſly and cloſely as poſſible by the ſide of their [82]parents; which being done, and the door faſtened, Mr. Draper firſt inquir⯑ing, whether he might be permitted to do for once as he pleaſed with the little family, directed the coachman to go ſoftly over the ſtones, and ſtop at the corner-houſe on the left-hand ſide, in Dover-Street. Thus was all the umanity and jennyroſity of Mr. Dodge, totally loſt in air, and his laſt words were quite ſwallowed up by the leſs eloquent language of the carriage⯑wheels and the driver. A great paint⯑er, whoſe forte lay in the pathetic and tender, might now have been furniſh⯑ed with exquiſite hints for a family⯑picture: never ſurely were ſeen a coach⯑ful of characters more ſuited to the pencil. Mrs. Sudberry (a tall, intereſt⯑ing, lovely figure) was ſeated betwixt [83]her huſband and infants; in the eye of poor Sudberry himſelf gliſten'd the drop of gratitude, ſupported on the one hand by his wife, on the other by Draper. One of the babes, with a cherubic chearfulneſs of countenance, was gently playing with the hand of its mother, and one was ſoftly ſtroak⯑ing the languid face of the father; while the third (which was ſeated on my knee) ſeemed highly delighted with the ſhewy trinkets, that depend⯑ed from the glittering watch-chain which I had purchaſed of the toyman. In this ſituation, in which Sudberry's diſorder, that even a joyful change of events could not remove, was the on⯑ly matter of inquietude, we arrived in Dover Street, at the elegant reſidence of Mr. Draper. That gentleman was [84]out in a moment, and welcomed his company with ſuch an air of unaſſum⯑ing hoſpitality, that his viſitants for⯑got it was a firſt ſalutation, and were pleaſingly ſeduced into intimacy, ere they had well concluded and com⯑pletely interchanged the civilities of introduction. The apartments of Mr. Draper beſpoke at the ſame inſtant the taſte and temper of the maſter: the furniture was in the higheſt ſplen⯑dor of faſhion, without any thing ap⯑proaching to frippery. We were con⯑ducted into a dining-room, in which was exhibited all the prettineſſes of an ample fortune; but Mr. Draper's be⯑haviour was infinitely more engaging than any other object in his room. He led the panting Sudberry up along the room, and ſeated him on a ſopha; he [85]preſſed him, and at length prevailed upon him to ſwallow a cordial; while I and the reſt of the Sudberrys, even to the youngeſt infant (which ſeemed more attracted by the conduct of the benefactor, than by the ſinery of the furniture, and the flowers in the car⯑pet) were under the influence of an enchantment ſo truly ſoothing and be⯑nevolent, that the whole appeared to be rather the delicious viſion of a glowing fancy, than a real ſcene in the great drama of modern life.

CHAP. LXXVII.

And yet no urbanity, nor any arts of delicate attention from our hoſt, [86]could prevent the tear from often ga⯑thering in the eye, and often falling upon the cheek of the beautiful Mrs. Sudberry. The ſtate of her huſband's health abſorbed every other idea, and ſhe could not be reſtricted, even by her politeneſs, from hanging around his neck, wiping away the drop which aſthmatic agony had collected on his brow, and relieving him by every poſ⯑ſible mark of an endearment which no ſickneſs could impair, nor any hu⯑man misfortune in any degree abate. Preſently, however, the cordial had ſuch effect, at leaſt ſo far aſſiſted the tender and reſtoring aſſiduities of a be⯑loved wiſe, that he began to breathe with leſs diſſiculty, and to ſeem more capable of enjoying his good fortune. Mr. Draper now improved this inter⯑val [87]of eaſe by the charms of his con⯑verſation, and by that characteriſtic ſprightlineſs which rendered him ſo enchantingly agreeable. I am now about to do a very rude thing, ſaid he, my good friends, and yet I cannot poſ⯑ſibly help it: indiſpenſible buſineſs, from which even the pleaſures of ſo⯑ciety muſt not ſeduce me, requires my attention. I ſhall not be gone above half an hour: my friend Benignus will extremely well ſupply my abſence, and I will take care to call on Mrs. Dar⯑lington, and make excuſes for you know what miſdemeanours, Benig⯑nus, before I return. Nay, keep your ſeats—no polite confuſion—no com⯑pliment pray now. He bowed, and withdrew.

As Sudberry was now much reco⯑vered, [88]at leaſt as his pain very favour⯑ably intermitted, his lovely wife hap⯑pening to ſit oppoſite a pier-glaſs, ob⯑ſerving ſomething in the reflection, which brought an unuſual quantity of blood into her face, ſhe threw her eye over her children tranſiently, but ſaid nothing. I had, however, ſome little reaſon afterwards to be⯑lieve this bluſh aroſe from that deli⯑cate conſciouſneſs which ſometimes we feel, from a ſenſe of wanting thoſe things which the world conſiders as the neceſſary furniture of every per⯑ſon who is admitted into a good apart⯑ment: namely, ſuch a ſuit of ſilks and broadcloth, linens and laces, as cor⯑reſpond with the chairs and tables, cuſhions and carpets, plate and china in the ſaid apartment.

[89]Now it happened (as the reader cannot indeed forget) that our little family had diveſted themſelves of all ſuperfluous decorations, even to the picture of the principal, which was wont to grace the arm of the wife, but which now was in the poſſeſſion of Mr. Skain the taylor; yet Mrs. Sudberry was ſtill as neat as a clean linen-gown could make her, her infants were habited in ſlips, or robes, evidently made by a ma⯑ternal hand, and from the materials of a frugal houſewifry, that decorates the child with an alteration of that which is no longer ſuitable to the parent; and Sudberry was in poſſeſ⯑ſion of at leaſt as tolerable a ſuit of grey, as that ſuit of black which I wore myſelf; and they looked as if [90]fate had prevented my getting newer apparel, till I had kept his modeſt grey in countenance. This inge⯑nuous anxiety, however, was ſoon over, for Sudberry got better and better, the children played, and prattled, the ſun ſhot cheerily into the room, Mrs. Sudberry ſmiled, and began to think of converſation, and Draper ſpeedily returned.

CHAP. LXXVIII.

By this time, preparations were making for a ſix o'clock dinner; but as nothing worth ſetting down in this Hiſtory happened till the cloth was removed, I ſhall aſk the reader's leave to ſet the glaſſes upon the table. [91]and paſs briſkly on to ſomething more material. The human imagination, even in its moſt poetical moment, can conceive nothing ſo highly calculated to give freſh ſpirit to Burgundy, as Mr. Draper's various converſation. He was the moſt conſiſtent man in the world, amidſt the greateſt incon⯑ſiſt [...]ncies; that is, he ſo nicely ob⯑ſerved the grand articles of times, ſealons, and circumſtances, that his character was conſtantly of a piece with the character of the ſociety then preſent. He was now in company with a married woman, a man under ſingular embarraſſments, and three little children riſing up under the eye of a modeſt mother; and moreover the whole family were under recent obligations to him. To ſupport him⯑ſelf [92]in this ſituation, without violating his delicacy, one would ſuppoſe, no eaſy matter; but, in point of addreſs, he was eaſe itſelf. He diſtributed his attention to the wife and huſband with ſo impartial a care, that neither could boaſt a compliment extraordi⯑nary, or complain of a politeneſs wanting. As the wine ſlowly circu⯑lated (for it was not puſhed round the table with an outrageous hoſpi⯑tality), Draper infuſed balm into the glaſs, by chatting chearfully upon the proſpect of better days. I have fre⯑quently thought, madam, ſaid he, (turning to Mrs. Sudberry) that an unfortunate man is amongſt the moſt ſacred of human characters. The hand of God is more immediately up⯑on him: he is marked out for trial, [93]and if, when temptations have thick⯑ened upon him, he ſtill preſerves his patience and his courage, he is indeed an intereſting character. I do not think Mr. Sudberry any otherwiſe un⯑fortunate, than as he is made ſo by his illneſs; if I did, his ſituation would be ſo ſanctified in my idea, that I ſhould not look at him without awe. Don't you think him unfortunate, anſwered Mrs. Sudberry? Not at all, replied Draper: he has enough to make him quite the contrary: nay, he this moment has in his eye ſuffi⯑cient to create content, in the worſt condition.

Mr. Draper had now gained his point; for, touching nicely upon the right ſtring, he found it in tune: Sudberry and his lady exchanged [94]looks, ſurveyed the pledges of their tender fidelity, and indulged a ſigh. Nor were thoſe tender pledges ſhut out from their ſhare of attention. They were invited to ſip ſome ſweet wine by Mr. Draper, who deſired them to drink according to ſeniority. The voice of a child, trained up with a ſenſe of duty and civility, is, to the ear of a parent, the muſic of the ſpheres. Mr. and Mrs. Sudberry gazed with a laudable pride on their babes, as they paid proper preparatory reſpects, and looked at Mr. Draper, as much as to ſay, the little creatures are of our own bringing up—they have no maſter or miſtreſs but our⯑ſelves. When each had taken its al⯑lowance (which Mrs. Sudberry ſtinted to as ſmall a quantum as might very [95]well be contained in a thimble) the eldeſt maintained her dignity by ſit⯑ting ſtill at the table, and the two other paraded round the room, and very critically examined the orna⯑ments; not failing to feel and finger every thing in their progreſs. Hi⯑larity now preſided at our board, and as the Burgundy exerted its generous power, Sudberry was ſo much re⯑covered, as to mix in our diſcourſe. At this criſis Mr. Draper contrived to increaſe the general felicity, by a well-timed trifling circumſtance.

And how many years may you two turtles have been married? cried he, ſmiling upon his gueſts. Eleven years, ſir, anſwered Sudberry; and they have flown away, as if they had enviouſly borrowed the wings of the wind. [96]Eleven minutes they have been, by my account, rejoined the lady, look⯑ing at Sudberry—Oh brave! anſwered Draper; then I'd lay my life, every trifle is important; and if this cork⯑ſcrew was the gift of the one, it would be dear to the other. It would indeed, ſaid the huſband. Aye, aye, replied Mr. Draper,

And as he was repeating this, he drew from his waiſtcoat pocket a piece of paper, which being opened, unfolded to our view that very little portrait, of precious memory, which the reader will remember has already been diſtinguiſhed in this hiſtory. [97]Take it, Mrs. Sudberry, ſaid he, pre⯑ſenting the bracelet—take the image of your huſband, which I have reſ⯑cued from the arm of the raviſher; for I do aſſure you it was in the poſ⯑ſeſſion of a lady. You muſt know, madam, as I paſſed by the taylor's door juſt now, when I was obliged to leave you upon buſineſs, I dropped in upon the raſcal, and was determined to tell him a piece of my mind. It happened that he opened the door himſelf, and I drew him into a room by his neckcloth, which was by no means ſo pale as his face: and ſo maſter Skain, ſaid I to him, we are to have the felicity of ſeeing you tuck'd up at laſt. You have ſet up your car⯑riage to a pleaſant purpoſe; and for the dignity of your profeſſion, I ſhall [98]make all poſſible intereſt that you may be permitted to go by ſo gented an untaylorly a conveyance, to the place of execution. For God's ſake what do you mean? cried the taylor. Mean, ſir, ſaid I, that you have de⯑frauded a gentleman of his property, taken in pawns without a licence, obtained ſecurity for your money— overcharged your account — (this I added, to make the ſound more pom⯑pous) moſt unwarrantably, and not contented with goods, have taken body into the bargain: the picture, Mr. Skain, the picture.—The teeth of the diſaſtrous taylor chattered moſt ridiculouſly, and to cut ſhort all trifling, I thus went on, firſt taking a certain written paper out of my pocket. Lookee, Skain, thy hand, [99]which was lately laid ſo heavy on Mr. Sudberry (the inſulted ſtranger whoſe cauſe I eſpouſed), is now turned againſt thyſelf: this is your writing —this your name, the ſum is nine⯑teen hundred and twenty pounds— the note is made payable to order—it is long paſt its date, and now in the hands of a reſolute and angry man: pay it on this demand—or gueſs the conſequence.

I was ſo diſguſted Mr. Sudberry, at the baſeneſs of this ſhred of ſhal⯑loon, that I may now tell you, the only buſineſs I had to leave your good company, was to mortify, diſgrace, and puniſh the ſcoundrel who had in⯑jured you;—no bowing and lifting up of hands and eyes, pr'ythee: it was more a ſelfiſh than ſocial undertaking, [100]I promiſe you: for if you have my ideas of happineſs, you will think the high-reliſhed tranſport of bringing a villain to ſhame, and probing him to the heart, by preſenting a Rowland for his Oliver, is payment in full, for all its delightful conſequences, even though they ſhould render a whole city happy. That this recrimination might be the more glorious, and the more triumphant, I poſted away to my friend Spangle's—the gentleman you ſaw this morning, Benignus, and telling him the circumſtances, but con⯑cealing the names, I engaged him very eaſily in my ſcheme, which I could indeed, with the ſame facility have done, had I propoſed ſetting fire to the metropolis, and beginning the blaze in the bed-chamber of his wife.

CHAP. LXXIX.

As Mr. Draper pronounced the laſt ſentence, Mr. and Mrs. Sudberry a⯑gain exchanged glances, which the keen eye of our young gentleman perceiving, he thus continued his nar⯑rative. Lookee there now, did I not tell you ſo before—did I not inſiſt upon it Mr. Sudberry was not an un⯑fortunate man? This very Spangle has an immenſe eſtate, yet is without ſix pennyworth of underſtanding—he has a child which he don't care a far⯑thing for, and does not ſuffer it to ſit upon his knee, leſt it ſhould ſoil his cloaths; and hates his wife with all [102]his heart. Which is the happieſt fa⯑mily, Benignus?

Before I had time to anſwer this queſtion, which Mr. Draper ſubmitted to me, Mrs. Sudberry left her ſeat, preſſed the picture to her boſom, but threw her eyes, full of tender fire, at the original, beſtowed a kiſs upon every child, and then came again, bluſhing beauty, to her chair. Lord, Benignus, reſumed Draper, what poor ſolitary things we ſingle fellows are! But to finiſh the taylor.

Spangle, I knew, had long ago, at my interceſſion, lent Mr. Skain the above ſum, to make up the purchaſe money of an eſtate, for which the avaricious taylor was then in treaty; and though I ſuppoſed the fellow could pay the note he gave Spangle, [103]yet I imagined it would diſtreſs him to take him unprovided, eſpecially as he took Spangle to be an eaſy man, whom he could manage as he pleaſed. Spangle was inſtantly convinced of the infamy of Skain, tho' I could have made him as ſtrongly convinced of his being a very honeſt man; for, as I obſerved before to you, he is the weakeſt of all weak creatures, while he thinks himſelf the wiſeſt. He gave the note, to my care and diſpoſal. I left him to his looking-glaſſes, and drove to our friend Dodge's, in com⯑pany with whom I went to take out a writ, and order the bailiff to ſtand at the corner of a ſtreet, within call, that he might do his duty.

Mr. Dodge was on guard, in this poſt of honour, during my debate with Mr. Skain, who no ſooner ſaw [104]into my drift, than he fell upon his knees in great agony, and begged for the ſake of his family, that I would ſtay a few days, till he could borrow the money on his eſtates, earneſtly vowing he had not a hundred and fifty gui⯑neas in the houſe, and that an impro⯑per ſtep would ruin his credit, and blow up his character, and knock up his trade, and ſhut up his ſhop for ever. The officer, ſir, ſaid I, is at hand.— An officer! exclaimed he, with incon⯑ceivable teſtimonies of horror, while the hair clearly lifted up his cap, which ſtill covered it—an officer!— here I am, a miſerable wretch, who has kept houſe theſe ſeventeen years, in which time I have arreſted more than ſeventy men, and yet never had a writ at my back before. The only [105]parchment I ever handled was my meaſure: but you won't be ſo inhu⯑man as to arreſt me, Mr. Draper?— You won't ſend a man of property to jail, before he can turn round—you won't murder and mangle, and maſ⯑ſacre my ſoul and body at once, for the ſake of revenge, which is the devil—I'm ſure you won't. Where's the picture, I ſay, fellow, exclaimed 1. While I was making this de⯑mand, the violent roarings, and diſ⯑tracted vociferation of Skain, emp⯑tied the aerial apartments, and brought in upon me eight ludicrous figures, in their ſhirts. In a word, madam, the journeymen taylors had all left their board, which was fixed in the garret, and came to ſee what could poſſibly occaſion ſuch pathetic [106]and piercing exclamations. Each man, in the confuſion, brought ſomething characteriſtic in his hand. One pre⯑ſented to view the half of a waiſtcoat, another the ſhoulder and ſleeve of a coat—ſome were armed with imple⯑ments of offence. This graſped a gooſe,—this brandiſhed a tremendous pair of ſheers, and that wielded a needle. I drew my ſword, a corking pin would have anſwered the ſame end, and kept them at bay.—The tay⯑lor in chief was in an agony, and when he renewed his ravings, he brought down from ſome private part of the houſe, a female of no very lovely, though jolly appearance, who ſallying up to me, with her arms a⯑kimbo, deſired to know what buſi⯑neſs [107]I had to draw my ſword upon her huſband.

As I knew Mr. Skain always paſſed for a bachelor, and as there was ſomething wonderfully unlike a wife in this lady, I was preparing a leſs gentle reply than ſhe might expect, when Skain prevented me, by riſing in a great paſſion; diſpatched his trembling groupe to their work, and demanded of the lady how, in the firſt place, ſhe dared to betray him, by leaving her chamber, which ſhe was articled to keep; and, in the ſe⯑cond, how ſhe had the impudence to call herſelf his wife.—Sir, ſaid he— this is, I find, a day, a curſed day, in which I am every way to be ruined: my poor character is to be torn to packthreads — I ſee it is—But fall [108]when I will, let me wipe off at leaſt one damage in my cloth — let me draw up one rent in my reputation. This woman is neither more nor leſs than.—He was proceeding to open the domeſtic budget, when the lady, to my utter aſtoniſhment, and with⯑out ſpeaking another ſyllable, lifted up a knuckle of Herculean ſinew, and applying it to the left temple of the taylor, brought him once more upon the ground. Now as I contemplated this mighty action, which I apprehended would be the laſt in which our tay⯑lor would be engaged, I contem⯑plated likewiſe ſomething elſe; for from the arm which properly belong⯑ed to this ſtupendous knuckle, ſlew, in the heat of the battle, with vaſt violence of rebound, againſt my ſhoul⯑der, [109]that identical picture, which while ſhe purſued her advantages, and was actually proceeding—agreeable to the maxims of war—to plunder the dead—having already one hand in the pocket of the vanquiſhed, I caught up, with dextrous eagerneſs, and having taken ſufficient revenge for the preſent, walked contendedly off, and left the lady to the pious office of finiſhing her work.

Mr. Dodge, who ſtill maintained his ſtation, I diſcharged, telling him I had made up the affair without his aſſiſtance; and as all this victorious buſineſs was done in little more than an hour—for you are to underſtand, I pique myſelf upon diſpatch—I think I have a right to ſhake Mr. Sudberry by the hand, (which thus I do moſt [110]cordially) and kiſs all the reſt of his family.

CHAP. LXXX.

The manner in which Mr. Draper related this ſtory of innocent recri⯑mination—the dignity of the action, the miraculous recovery of the brace⯑let, and the pleaſant ideas he gave us of the taylor, and his lady, put the whole ſociety into ſo happy a hu⯑mour, that few things could at that time have increaſed the general feli⯑city.

For my own part, I was the princi⯑pal figure of ſtill life in the room; for, being ſo earneſt a liſtener and obſerver, and the elegant Mr. Draper leaving [111]nothing for me to ſay or do, I ſat ſilent and aſtoniſhed, a mere cypher of curioſity and ſurprize.

The footman now entered, preſent⯑ing a card, which requiring an anſwer, Mr. Draper begged permiſſion to with⯑draw, for five minutes, to his writ⯑ing-table, and at the ſame time ſaying the card concerned me likewiſe, took me out with him; and then, as he got to the door, familiarly ſaid, you'll get us a cup of coffee, Mrs. Sudberry; you know I am a perſon of diſpatch, and I ſhall be with you and your good man again, in the melting of a lump of ſugar, ſo pour away as faſt as you will.

By this time, my adoration was ſo extreme for Draper, that it was almoſt grown on the other ſide idolatry; and [112]as I followed him along the paſſage that led from the dining room, I could have kiſſed, with real reverence, the hem of his garment. We ſtopped at the door of an apartment, at the back part of the houſe, where, taking me by the hand, and opening the door, he introduced me into a room, which was wainſcoted with looking-glaſſes, and to a lovely young lady, who was entertaining herſelf at the harpſichord; ſhe was dreſſed in the moſt intereſting diſhabille that could poſſibly be con⯑ceived — her face was one of thoſe which diſcompoſe the ſoul, and flut⯑ters the pulſe the moment it is be⯑held, and her gloſſy hair came ſport⯑ing down her right ſhoulder, in the moſt voluptuous abundance. She roſe nimbly from her ſeat, as we came in, [113]and began to chide; while Draper gave her, without any prelude of ce⯑remony, a hearty kiſs; and with an air of negligent ſuperiority, led her to a chair, and then careleſsly drew an⯑other, and placed it by her: And how, Priſcilla, cried he, tapping her on the check—how couldſt thou be ſo im⯑patient a ſimpleton as to ſend for me —let me ſee, how was it? Here he took out the card and read:—"Priſ⯑cilla's compliments to Mr. Draper, and if he is not more agreeably en⯑gaged, will be happy to ſpeak with him." Upon my word, Miſs Priſ⯑cilla, a very laconic well-worded card! and now Mr. Draper is come, what wouldſt thou ſay to him? For Hea⯑ven's ſake, Benignus, be ſeated; my wife, as the taylor ſays, will excuſe [114]my introducing a friend, even though I did not announce his coming by a card. Well, but Priſs; tell me at once what you want, becauſe I have but five minutes to ſpare. Pray who is that married lady, Mr. Draper, cried Priſcilla, in a ſly tone, you are ſo merry with? Lookee, Priſs, ſaid Dra⯑per, gravely, no taunts, no ſneers: whoever I think proper to introduce into this houſe, are, while they are in it, people of the firſt diſtinction, in my eye: remember I never ſuffer reflections, nor enter into characters here. Nay, anſwered the lady, I only aſked a civil queſtion, as Mr. Tho⯑mas told me ſhe ſeemed a very young woman to have ſuch a parcel of chil⯑dren, and—Oh ho, anſwered Dra⯑per, without the leaſt emotion, Mr. [115]Thomas told you, did he? That's quite a different matter: pray, Be⯑nignus, ſhall I trouble you to touch that bell? Is your inſtrument in tune, Priſs? Perhaps you will oblige my friend with a ſong, and ſuppoſe you indulge us with—a—Oh, Thomas, (here Thomas entered) your year is up to-morrow, I think?—Yes, ſir, ſaid Thomas, turning pale, and Priſcilla paler ſtill.—Well then, you will put up your luggage with all convenient expedition, and here—here—are your wages, and a guinea extra for the favour of your moving off to night. On my knees I intreat you, my dear Draper, ſaid the lady, with the tears in her eyes, to—to—As I have a ſoul to periſh, ſir, anſwered Thomas, I have done nothing to my know⯑ledge [116]which—Pr'ythee go away man, I don't accuſe you of any thing—but I am in the humour to change, ſaid Mr. Draper, that's all. Nay then, ſaid the lady, and if you come to that, ſo am I, ſir!—Are you? replied Draper, with amazing coolneſs.—You know I hold it ſinful to baulk one's reaſonable inclinations—ſo my dear, pretty Priſcilla, accept this fooliſh piece of paper (he gave her a bank⯑bill, I know not of what value); ac⯑cept it as a token; and if you ſhould not again alter your mind, ſuppoſe me now taking my laſt adieu. Mr. Draper again rang the bell, and bow⯑ing with great civility, as he went towards the door, went out with as much placidity as he came in. We met another ſervant at the head of the [117]ſtairs; take care, Kit, ſaid Mr. Dra⯑per to him, that I am no more diſturb⯑ed; and if Pricilla wants the chair, or any meſſages, you will obey her commands. Having ſaid this, he gave me a gentle ſlap on the ſhoulder, crying, "So much for that, maſter Brooke," and went ſmiling, with the air of perfect peace, into the dining⯑room.

CHAP. LXXXI.

Of this laſt tranſaction, I could make neither head nor tail; ſo re⯑ſolved for the preſent to plague my⯑ſelf no more about it; eſpecially as I found the company in the ſame agree⯑able diſpoſition in which we left it: [118]but yet the ſituation of the parties were ſomething varied, for Mr. and Mrs. Sudberry were both ſitting upon the ſopha; Sudberry was livelier than ever, and his lady met us with ſo grateful a ſmile, that to have come a moment ſooner, or later, would have methought been a moment out of time. Strange, however, as it may ſeem, Mrs. Sudberry had forgot to order the coffee, and when Draper gently reproached her for being ſo bad a houſewife, one of thoſe undeſcribable bluſhes painted her cheek, and height⯑ened the natural roſes of her com⯑plexion, which the poetical Dr. Donne has called eloquent.

[119] The tea-table was, however, ſoon furniſhed, at Mr. Draper's ſummons; and Mrs. Sudberry's bluſh gradually diſappeared, till it ſettled only into the bloom, which was always ſmiling on her cheek.

Mr. Sudberry, who hitherto had ſaid little, on account of his diſorder, which ſpeaking generally increaſed, having, as the tea-equipage was re⯑moving, ſome intention to take his leave, began to return the proper teſ⯑timonies of reſpect to his benefactor.

Sir, ſaid he, bowing to Mr. Dra⯑per, you have probably ſaved me from that death in a priſon, which, though I know it cannot long be any where prevented, would in ſuch a ſi⯑tuation be doubly terrible. You have, at the ſame time, reſcued from diſ⯑traction, [120]this tender creature; and, from a more ſudden poverty, theſe beautiful babes. Unleſs you could ſee my heart, you will not be able to conceive its conſciouſneſs. Apologies for having been the means of making a man act like an angel, is rather an in⯑ſult than a compliment. What you did, I am ſure you felt, and that feel⯑ing, while it bleſſes us, rewards you: happy, indeed, are they who are the objects of ſuch benevolence: happier only he, who is maſter of the ſenſa⯑tion which inſpired it. In gratitude, (—here he put his hand on his breaſt) there is much joy,—In liberality, (he looked reſpectfully at Mr. Draper) there is ſtill more; and we hold, ſir, the ſecond place of felicity, as receivers of benefits; that you may hold the [121]firſt, as the perſon who conferred them, —He pauſed.

My ſtars and garters! cried Mr. Draper, what a pity it is, Sudberry, you and I are ſtrangers! What a deal of ſentiment might you ſave (and I ſee you talk in ſome pain, and upon my ſoul, you give me as much pain to hear you talk) if you did but know that I am ſo ſincere a deſpiſer of all formality, that I never ſuffer a ſlip of buckram, even in my coat. I heard that you were inſulted, and, for the want of a few ſcoundrel guineas, un⯑able to redreſs yourſelf. Now, in⯑ſult I am ſo far from bearing my⯑ſelf, that I cannot endure it ſhould be inſticted on another. If you had a purſe in your pocket, a ſword at your ſide, and a cane in your hand: if, [122]ſir, Providence had thought proper to accoutre you in this manner, I ſhould have left you to revenge your own cauſe, and fight your own battles: and had you heſitated to do this, under ſuch advantages, I ſhould have rejoiced to hear, that the purſe had been taken from you, the ſword run through your body, and the cane laid acroſs your ſhoulders: becauſe, for man to fear man, in my idea, is the laſt error of idolatry, and ten times a greater ſhame, than bowing the knee to Baal. But I heard you were without arms, I heard you were ſick, married, had children, and was no ſharper: becauſe you was a ſtranger, and becauſe you were deſtitute, I aſſiſted you. In that aſſiſtance I have gratified my darling paſſions: I [123]I have at the time ſerved one gentle⯑man in diſtreſs, and Oh, good God of Heaven, Sudberry, what an idea! —I have puniſhed three ſcoundrels! So, pr'ythee now, don't purſue the curſed ſubject of acknowledgment. I take it for granted, your little affairs at home are in ſome diſorder; and, therefore, I will not prevent your putting them to rights: your chil⯑dren too I ſee begin to rub their eyes, and I can conceive, bachelor as I am, the wiſhes of you all. Without any parade, therefore, get into my coach, or, if you like it better, a hackney coach, and tell me, in a word, what will make matters thoroughly eaſy till this day fe'nnight, when I chal⯑lenge every one of you to a haunch of veniſon. Lookee, now, what can [124]one do! Your wife is in tears, again —There—there—then—it can be no worſe, and ſo, for God's ſake, put this into your pocket, and call me when you have done crying.

CHAP. LXXXII.

Mr. Draper was hurrying away, when one of the children caught him by the hand, and enchantingly cried, You be good gentemin, and muſt not leave my dear papa and mamma. They only cry for your goodneſs, and cry becauſe they be full of glad, not ſorry. Oh, my angel, replied the mother, ſo we do, ſo we do; your poor papa would have died if it had [125]not been for the kindneſs of that gentlemen—Would he? anſwered the child, than papa muſt now live to thank him, that's all—I live to thank him, too, ſaid the ſecond. Me vil kneel down thus, and pray God Mighty love him for it, liſped out the youngeſt, throwing itſelf at the ſame time on the carpet, and folding its hands. Murder and aſſaſſination! exclaimed Draper, ſtamping and draw⯑ing his handkerchief over his face— there's no ſtanding this. You are re⯑ſolved to kill me, I think, in my own houſe.

Come hither, ſaid I, come hither, thou beautiful little tyrant—I was going to relieve Draper from the em⯑braces of the child, when Sudberry himſelf roſe, and walking, as well as [126]his weakneſs would let him, towards Mr. Draper, he ſaid, Well, ſir, we have tortured you ſufficiently; 'tis time to give you reſpite; with your permiſſion, we will now ſend for a coach. I ſee perfectly into your cha⯑racter, and will not refuſe the plea⯑ſures it brings me. Come, Mrs. Sud⯑berry, let us now wiſh Mr. Draper good night, and leave him, with a promiſe to partake of his veniſon. It is only from the ſcarcity of good men, that makes us awkward when we receive their favours. Mr. Draper happens to perform the purpoſes for which he was born, and finds, in ſuch performance, the ſame pleaſure you do in kiſſing your children. 'Tis in both—the inſpiration of nature. Fare⯑well then, ſir,—indulge your conſti⯑tation, [127]and I rejoice to find its ten⯑dencies ſo favourable to my preſent circumſtances.

Now, ſaid Draper, you talk to the purpoſe; and if you have now the wiſdom to ſay no more, all will be as it ought to be. I have done, anſwer⯑ed Sudberry. Then art thou, in my eſtimation, more eloquent than Ci⯑cero on the ſubject, replied Draper.

You are both (thought I) very cle⯑ver fellows, for ought I ſee to the contrary; but what ſort of a being I muſt appear to you, I really cannot tell; for here have I been witneſs to a train of actions, enough to make a devil catch ſome ſpark of the divini⯑ty; and yet from the firſt moment to the laſt, I have not done one farthingſ⯑worth of good, nor one farthingſ worth [128]of harm. This Draper carries it all before him, and leaves his friend no opportunity to do a tolerable thing, with any degree of grace. He is the independent ſubſtantive, and I the ſcurvy adjective. No matter—it may be my turn to ſtand in a better light to-morrow.—At preſent, I am only in ſhadow.

I made theſe reflections, while the coach was ſent for, and when it came, Draper handed the family into it, with the ſame politeneſs he handed them out of the other, kiſſed his hand to them, as the driver was wheeling from the door, and returned with me into his houſe.

CHAP. LXXXIII.

Is Priſs at home? ſaid Mr. Draper, to a ſervant, as he went in; No, ſir, anſwered the ſervant, ſhe ordered Thomas to fetch a hackney coach, directed Suſan to pack up her things, and ordered the coachman to carry her into Piccadilly. Very well, re⯑plied Draper (not at all diſcompoſed), get the chariot to the door, and bid Crimpa come and tie up my hair. Then turning to me; And now my dear Benignus let us go and fight it out with the women, for Mrs. Dar⯑lington, notwithſtanding our meſſage, will give it us, I promiſe you; ſhe is the very pink of punctilio, you know. [130]Oh, here comes Crimpa. Crimpa, draw thy comb through my hair in a moment: and while he is doing this excruciating piece of buſineſs, ſuppoſe we amuſe ourſelves with examining my friend Spangle's pocket book; Crimpa is moſt conveniently ſtupid, and will not comprehend a ſyllable about the matter. Here, Benignus, here it is,—open and communicate the precious contents.—I heſitated to open the lock, which Draper per⯑ceiving, took it out of my hands, with a ſort of contemptuous jerk, and ſaying, Lock, by your leave, did the buſineſs in a moment, and careleſsly turning over the leaves, thus prefaced his peruſal of them.

I have already told you, Benignus, my notion of modern delicacy; I think [131]we are wrong both in the theory and practice. I can be as ſerious, and as merry, as any man in Europe; but then my mirth is frequently excited by the—Damn this Crimpa, how con⯑foundedly he tortures my head—my mirth, I was going to obſerve, is of⯑ten excited, by the very object which occaſions ſeriouſneſs is another; and this, upon my honour, not from af⯑fectation of ſingularity, but from temper, and the mere make of my mind. I always follow every agree⯑able feeling, and am directed by one uniform principle of gratification. The malicious paſſions ſhake a man all to pieces, ſet his pulſes a fluttering, and every way render him diſagreeable to himſelf. The gentle and pacific paſ⯑ſions, on the contrary, diffuſe ſuch a [132]fine ſoothing ſet of ſenſations over both ſoul and body, that while one can any way indulge them, at what⯑ever expence, they afford an elyſium ſo infinitely pleaſing, that I would purchaſe them, though I ſhould buy gratification ever ſo extravagantly. Thus I am the moſt ſelfiſh fellow in the kingdom; and curſe me if I be⯑lieve ſuch characters have the leaſt merit in any of their actions. Your ſly hypocritical dogs ſink all theſe kind of things upon you, as pure efforts of benevolence; but I who hate ſtrutting it in the plume of an⯑other, aſſure you 'tis conſtitution, and downright love of pleaſure; nay, ſometimes 'tis the mere impromptu of the moment.—We are ſometimes in a diſpoſition to be delighted with [133]opening our purſe, and ſometimes with drawing it avariciouſly together. One object attacks us at the fortunate criſis, and we give him every thing he wants. Another ſhall perhaps meet us at the corner of the next ſtreet, equally indigent, and yet ſo far from giving him that which he wants, we reproach him for having the impudence to tender his petition. Pr'ythee go along, fellow, and don't plague me—I have nothing for thee. Such our language to the one.—Yes, poor creature—take my pittance, let it alleviate the neceſſities which I perceive preſs heavily upon thee— Thou art welcome to my ſuperfluity, and much, very much good may it do thee. Such our ſentiments to the other. Whence theſe diſtinctions— [134]whence theſe partialities? Why, they originate from nature; we are miſer⯑able as miſers, or bountiful as angels, juſt as we are in the humour: for man is the moſt whimſical of all crea⯑tures. Now, I'll lay my life, the poor Sudberrys—(this fellow is neat as im⯑ported, and does not underſtand a word of Engliſh)—are gone away under the fallacious idea of ſuppoſing me the moſt generous man in the world, when all I have done would certainly have been avoided, had their conve⯑nience alone been conſulted. In mak⯑ing them happy, I made myſelf for but if I muſt have procured their feli⯑city by the deſtruction of my own, 'tis a thouſand to one if ſome raſcally cringing attachment or other, to im⯑perial ſelf, did not put in its paltry [135]plea, and prevent me from doing a good thing, merely becauſe it was a good one.

Now with reſpect to this pocket⯑book. 'Tis the property of a cox⯑comb, who has not a dram of feeling in his whole frame: one of my great conſtitutional pleaſures is, to expoſe and laugh at ſuch a wretch. I am a great man for diſtinctions. If this pocket-book was yours, or poor Sud⯑berry's, it might poſſibly contain ſomething rational, and ſhould there⯑fore, for me, be ſacred from viola⯑tion: but being Spangle's, whom I know, better than he knows himſelf, and who never kept a ſecret ſince he had tongue enough to tell it—being his, my dear Benignus, why, here beginneth the firſt chapter of folly. [136]—So ſaying, this unaccountable, a⯑greeable, whimſical mixture of a man began to read the curious regiſter of the month, written by the polite pencil of Thomas Willimot Spangle, Eſq.

CHAP. LXXXIV.

But before I inſert, or tranſcribe any paſſages from this choice collection, I muſt warn the reader (if peradven⯑ture he ſhould happen to live in the country, or never has met the like paſſages before, which in that caſe is perfectly probable), I muſt warn him not for that reaſon to ſhut the book in a paſſion, or ſpleeniſhly tear out [137]the leaf, on a preſumption that the ſentiments are unfaithfully tranſcrib⯑ed; becauſe I can aſſure him (on the veracity of an hiſtorian, under my very ſerious circumſtances) that what is ſet down in this chapter, is an ho⯑neſt copy from the wonderful ori⯑ginal.

Mr. Draper neglected the cards and letters on each ſide the pocket-book, and took notice only of thoſe plea⯑ſant articles which were marked, by way of memorandum, on the vellum, or more properly ſpeaking, the aſs's leaves, which lay in the middle of book. Each page contained the ſtory of a day; ſo that the whole book formed a complete hiſtory, or con⯑nected chain of events.

Here Draper, after a moment's pauſe, toſſed the book into the middle of the room, and exclaimed as he roſe from under the hand of his va⯑let:—Aye, its all alike I ſee. Infa⯑mous raſcal: he has not ingenuity enough to ſupport the character of which he is ambitious. The narrative of his day, is the narrative of his life.

Pray, ſaid I, Mr. Draper is all this conſtitution — did nature ever form ſuch a reptile as Spangle? Art and na⯑ture, [142]in conjunction, anſwered Dra⯑per, ſettling his ſtock at the glaſs, have made a million ſuch, and I am glad I have ſhewn you the inſide of the fellow's brains, that you may pity and deſpiſe them.

Curious were the particulars which flew from the pocket-book, about the room. Locks of hair, papers of paint, letters, ſciſſars, and tooth-picks, ſcat⯑tered in confuſion. Crimpa took them up, and Mr. Draper put them looſe in his pocket, as he was going to the chariot, ſolemnly declaring, that he would firſt read them to Spangle's wife, before Spangle him⯑ſelf, and then ſtand over the raſ⯑cal, while he directed them in a parcel to the poor devoted Diana Dickens, which it ſeems was the name of the young lady whom he torment⯑ed [143]at the chapel:—for, ſays he, tho' I am no enemy to gallantry, I am to brutality; and ſuch a fellow ſhould never riſe to a greater dignity of amour, than an affair with a cinder⯑wench.

We mounted the carriage, and Dra⯑per ſat biting his nails, and angrily twiſting the glaſs taſſels, as if he was the moſt rigid reformer of the age, every now and then vehemently re⯑peating d—nation—I love gallantry, but deſpiſe brutality.

To me, the world already wore a new face, and contained ſcenes and characters, which a few weeks before I was utterly unconſcious of. Nor let the reader, in this place, laugh at the ignorance of my youth: for thou⯑ſands are there, at this minute, in [144]country, who, arrived to their three⯑ſcore and tenth year, are perfectly un⯑acquainted that ſo much villainy exiſts in human nature, as I have delineated in leſs than threeſcore pages. Nay, ſuch is ſtill the honeſt ſimplicity of thoſe at a diſtance from the metro⯑polis, that if at my return to my vil⯑lage, I ſhould tell them, of an elegant looking lady dead drunk in the ſtreets; of a fop who lays the plan of a young woman's deſtruction in a church; of a taylor who keeps a miſ⯑treſs, a chariot, and a black footman, with a ſilver ſhoulder knot; of a parcel of fellows who lay watching for the body of a ſick man, with a wife and three children, like ſo many many dogs at a door; and of a per⯑ſon who is ſuch a miſcellany of vice [145]and virtue, defect and excellence, as Mr. Draper.—If, I ſay, I were to tell theſe things—or if haply they are ever peruſed in print, by people who have never mixed among the poliſhed errors of a large city—will they not ſet me down as an ill-natured diſcon⯑tented fellow, who have drawn a very unfair, as well as a very ugly picture of life? Such an accuſation would re⯑dound ſo much to the honour of the accuſers, that I cannot find it in my heart to upbraid them. To ſuppoſe it impoſſible for any of the ſpecies to be ſo deſtitute of humanity, as I have been, and ſhall ſtill be, obliged here and there to repreſent them, is a ſup⯑poſition which argues ſome innocence in the ſuppoſer; and whenever the reader thinks I indulge in the gloom [146]of imagination, I moſt heartily wiſh he may never have the mortification to experience that I have only diſ⯑played to his eye the real portrait of human manners.

CHAP. LXXXV.

Fine truants, indeed! ſaid Alicia, as ſoon as we entered the parlour. Well, gentlemen, cries Mrs. Darlington, you have ſtayed out methinks. I have juſt brought Benignus to the door, ladies, anſwered Mr. Draper, that you might not fear I had quite run away with him: it has been a day of ad⯑venture, and now, though I love dearly to hear you make enquiries [147]about the who, and the what, and the where, and the when, the where⯑fore, and the why; yet I am obliged inſtantly to deprive myſelf of this felicity, by an engagement which muſt this inſtant be fulfilled: ſo I muſt leave Benignus to tell the ſtory,—you queſtion, and he anſwer, and rob my⯑ſelf of one of the ſweeteſt entertain⯑ments in the world. You are ſuch a rattle, replied the young lady. A⯑dieu, Alicia;—Mrs. Darlington, your moſt obedient, anſwered Draper, and was rolling off again in his chariot in a minute.

I found the following billet had been ſent to me, in my abſence, from my agent.

If haply any perſon of buſineſs ſhould beſtow half an hour per week [149]to peruſe theſe books, it will not, in their opinion, redound much to my credit, or inſpire them with any reſ⯑pectable ideas of my underſtanding, that I continued ſo long in town, without making the leaſt enquiry into my affairs, not ſo much, or rather ſo little, as even to call or ſend more than a ſingle card to the attorney, to whoſe care were entruſted, not only the papers of my family, but through whoſe hands my guardian had been uſed to receive letters from time to time, on the very intereſting ſubjects of riſe and fall, ſell out, and buy in, cent per cent. with all that never ending et cetera of prudential and pecuniary policies, which ſo delight⯑fully agitate men of property. To all ſuch, be it known, that I candidly [150]take ſhame to myſelf; much of this care and circumſpection depends on education. The college and the coun⯑ter ſo oppoſitely affect the imagina⯑tion, that a few years reſidence within the cloyſters of the one, or behind the drawers of the other, give not only contraſted modes of thinking, but make two people (thus differently employed) as utterly unlike, as if one was born to the cuſtoms of France, and the other to thoſe of Turkey. And here I beg leave to add, on this head, the illuſtration of a little ſtory, taken faithfully from the excellent vo⯑lume of life.

Thomas and John were brothers, and bred up together to the age of ſix, in the ſame houſe, diſcovering till about that time, pretty nearly the [151]ſame diſpoſitions: but the father, ſoon after, deſigning one for the church, and one for the counting houſe, Tho⯑mas was entered a member at one of the univerſities, and John was ſituated with a trader in the city. They were both induſtrious lads, and made a very promiſing progreſs: at the end of about ſeven years, and not before, (ſuch was their application), they met, on a viſit to their father, who reſided in the country; and in this viſit they ſoon evinced the wonderful force of practice, and habit, on the human conſtitution. The maſon who is ſaid to have carried a brick in his pocket, as a ſignal of his trade, was not a more certain teſtimony, than thoſe enſigns of office, which our young gentlemen held out to every acquaint⯑ance. [152]Their very gait and diſcourſe was become profeſſional. Thomas, who had been uſed to ſaunter through the venerable walks of his college, or ſlumber beneath a ſpreading oak, with a book by his ſide, had acquired from thence an indolent method of walk⯑ing; and yet, was as ſtarch, ſolemn, and perpendicular, as if he had been long treading in the ſeemly ſteps o [...] one of the faithful: while John, on the contrary, in ſpite of a name, which gives methinks the dulleſt idea of any chriſtian appellation in our language, had as diſpatchful a pair of heels, hands, and eyes, as if he had been ſerving his time amongſt the expreſſes, or was runner to a banker. Their dreſs was likewiſe ex officio: Thomas was generally habited in a [153]ſuit of raven grey, with ſtockings correſponding, and buckles (though ſilver) of ſo modeſt, and unpretend⯑ing a pattern, that they utterly diſ⯑carded all the vagaries of the mode; yet were they like every other part of him, prig, prim, prue, and par⯑ſonly: much againſt its natural incli⯑nation, his hair was tortured into one large ſemicircular curl, beſprent with a little powder, rather in patches than regularly, and formed a methodical arch, from the top of one ſhoulder to the other: his ſtock was girded ſtiff in its buckle; and his coat, though it had never been much tormented by the bruſh, was by no means out of form; for Thomas, indeed, had ſo erect a back, that it would not be eaſy for his apparel to ſet in wrinkles.

[154]Now John, who reſided with an eminent merchant (and had always been accuſtomed to viſit the 'Change preciſely at one o'clock,) prided him⯑ſelf not a little upon a deſhabille in dreſs, the rather he uſed to ſay, as it diſtinguiſhed him from the mere me⯑chanical put, who had a bob-wig for the morning, and a bag for the even⯑ing. He, therefore, rejected a ſmug neſs which he conſidered as below himſelf, and critically marked the external difference betwixt the mere drudge of trade, and the gentleman of buſineſs. To accompliſh this lat⯑ter character, he wore ſuitable ray⯑ment: his coat, or rather frock, had a lining of ſilk, was cut exactly to the mode, and had a genteel proportion of powder ſpringled between the [155]ſhoulders, juſt where the careleſs club of his hair, looſely tied with a rib⯑bon, depended; his waiſtcoat was frequently ſcarlet, or crimſon, with a very broad binding of figured lace, the more faſhionable, in his opinion, when the nap was gone, and it was about half worn out: his breeches were always of black ſilk, ſo much the better if the ſtrap of his knee-buckle hung accidentally, as it were a little looſe: of white ſilk were his ſtockings, one of which was generally ſuffered to wrinkle about the knee, or the inſtep: his cravat (half dirty alſo) was of white ſarſnet, edged with a nar⯑row lace, and tied in a negligent bunch under his chin; and to crown the whole, his hat was laced with gold, and worn elegantly oblique. [156]Thomas paid his compliments of duty to his father, with the moſt claſſical accuracy and deliberation, ar⯑ticulating and marking by emphaſis, every word. He hoped his eſteemed parent enjoyed the beatitude of health, amid the ſalutiferous gales of the country; obſerved that the an⯑cients and poets, or vates, (which meant the ſame thing) were all lord and eloquent in praiſe of rural life, as could be evidenced by reference to their reſpective writings, and then proceeded to quotation; and laſtly, he ſaid he expected to paſs a very joyful month in the houſe and country, where he was born, as it would revive in his mind every idea of juvenility, and make him, as it were, live over again thoſe days, [157]which were devoted to the paſtimes of puerility; the garrulity of the ſuipling, and the ſimplicity of early exiſtence; when, (as Mr. Locke ſays) he might be aſſimulated, in other words, compared, or to ſtoop ſtill lower in phraſe, likened to a ſheet of white paper.

This ſalutation differed wonderful⯑ly from the ſalutation of John, who catching his father careleſsly by the hand, and bowing rapidly at the ſame time, ſaid he was glad to ſee him wear ſo well; remarked that the ſtorid cheek was a curioſity on the other ſide of St. Paul's, but that bu⯑ſineſs was better than a fine com⯑plexion; and then archly ſquinting at Thomas, ſaid, that he perceived ſtudy was as ſore a ſpoiler of the ſkin [158]as Lombard-ſtreet; he then ſaluted his ſiſters, which Thomas had neg⯑lected to do, and ſat happily down, without ceremony. Their old ac⯑quaintance in the pariſh ſcarce knew either, and what is ſtill ſtranger, they ſcarce knew each each other: thoſe who uſed to agree in every thing, could now agree in nothing: indeed, they held ſcarce a ſingle tenet, maxine, or ſentiment, in any ſort ſimilar; and before they had been a fortnight to⯑gether, each began to entertain a thorough contempt for the other's un⯑derſtanding.

Curſe that Thomas, would John often ſay—What a queer piece of claſped calf-ſkin it is! For ever muz⯑zing over a muſty book, and yet he drawls like a pariſh clerk! Bleſs me, [159]exclaimed frequently Mr. Thomas, what a proſane, avaricious, yet extra⯑vagant being, is brother John! fond of gaudy exterior ornament, yet a mere ſloven, in mente, a caſket, as I may ſay, a plated caſket, without a jewel; and for ever talking of his commodities, and bales, and cen⯑tums, ducks ſtruck lame in metropo⯑litan alleys, and the Lord knows what beſides. I much wiſh (having about me, as in duty bound, all fraternal feelings) he may turn out a ſtationary, laudable, conſcientious character; for indeed I cannot but ſuſpect the lad's capacity!

The men of buſineſs ſaw in John, all the ſhrewdneſs, acuteneſs, ſlyneſs, cleverneſs, and all other neſſes that promiſed the man of wealth. The [160]men of letters diſcovered in Thomas, all the ſobriety, ſteadineſs, and learn⯑ing, which denoted an able divine. The friends of John thought ſlightly of Thomas, while the friends of Tho⯑mas thought ſlightly of John; and they ſoon thought ſo very flightly of one another, that at the end of the month, which had been chiefly em⯑ployed in debate (each chuſing to ſup⯑port his ſyſtem) they departed in high diſdain, Thomas to the taſk of con⯑templation, to Cicero and Cambridge; and John (wiſhing Cambridge might be conſumed) to gainful mornings, and gay evenings, to the dexterity of trade, and the traffic of Lombard⯑ſtreet.

And yet each brother made a reſ⯑pectable character, Tom ſigured in the [161]pulpit, and John was an alderman. To this ſtory, written for the ſatis⯑faction of my mercantile readers, may be added its moral, viz. that their friend Benignus might be a very good kind of a man, aye, and even poſ⯑ſeſſed no mean ſhare of common ſenſe, (that ſenſe which I knew they weigh againſt all the genius and ſcho⯑larſhip in the world), although he ſlayed ſeveral weeks in London after the death of his guardian, without paying a viſit to the only perſon who could give him any intelligence as to the ſecurity and true ſtate of the need⯑ful.

CHAP. LXXXVI.

I had never ſeen this Mr. Parſons but once in my whole life, and that was in my infancy, when he took the advantage of a vacation to paſs the receſs which that allowed him, till the next term, at my guardian's; who from long intimacy, had ſo im⯑plicit an opinion of his integrity, that he committed to his charge thoſe mat⯑ters which reſpected the twelve thou⯑ſand pounds at intereſt. However, in ſome meaſure to reconcile my un⯑pardonable remiſſneſs, I can aſſure my readers of trading complexions, that I ſat down as ſoon as I had re⯑lated the heads of my day's adventures, [163]to Mrs. Darlington and her niece, leaving out the myſterious ſcene with Draper and Priſcilla, to write an an⯑ſwer to, and propoſe a meeting, of buſineſs with Mr. Parſons the very next day. In the mean time, I was not a little anxious to hear about my friend Benjamin, and his uncle; for ſtrange as it ſeems, Alicia had not yet mentioned either of them. Mr. Abra⯑hams, however, ſoon after relieved my ſuſpence, by ſending a note, con⯑taining theſe truly characteriſtic words.

Abrahams ſends comp^ts to — Benignus, Eſq.—Received his favour, —is overwhelmed with gratitude for ſame.—This is ſent, (per Benjamin) who (as in duty bound) by ditto favour, [164]will make acknowledgments.—Abra⯑hams begs a line from — Benignus, Eſq. by item bearer.

Juſt as I was ſtepping out to make enquiries, Mr. Benjamin, the item bearer preſented this laconic card, and (continuing to mend of his bruizes) had ſo ſpruced and tighted himſelf up, that he really looked quite in⯑tereſting, and the delicate languor which pain and conſinement had thrown over his features, only ſerved to render them more ſoft and pleaſing. As I knew this card was totally de⯑ſigned for private peruſal, I read it tranſiently, and putting it into my [165]pocket, told Benjamin I ſhould take an opportunity to obſerve the con⯑tents, and that it required no other anſwer. I ſaw that the poor fellow's eyes and heart were full, and that he felt the irkſomeneſs of a ſituation, in the preſence of his ladies, which per⯑mitted no explanations. The quick⯑ſighted Alicia perceived his embar⯑raſſment, and perhaps imputed it to a very different cauſe from the real one: be that as it will, ſhe reddened and whitened ſeveral times, and as the lad went ſighing out of the room, ſhe affected to hem and cough vio⯑lently, and ſaid ſhe believed ſome filthy fly had got into her throat. Notwithſtanding the obſtruction of the fly, however, there was ſomething in the confuſion of Benjamin, at this [166]ſhort interview, whence ſhe derived ſuch agreeable thoughts, that ſhe roſe into greater gaiety than I had ever ſeen her indulge, ſprightly as ſhe was; and this was the evening in which ſhe diſcovered more of her character, and occaſioned by that diſcovery, a more grave incident than might be expected from a ſubject begun with ſo much good humour.

Now I have obſerved, that it is cuſtomary with biographers, to relate revolutions of all ſorts, with ſome little previous ceremony; and as a very great domeſtic change of affairs depends on the circumſtances now going to be related, I ſhall e'en con⯑form to the method of my predeceſ⯑fors, and communicate this important event in a ſeparate chapter.

CHAP. LXXXVII.

It is an obſervation of the great Plato, or of ſome other famous phi⯑loſopher, that if a man of perfect benevolence and virtue ſhould come upon earth, he would be cheated, im⯑priſoned, ſcourged, and crucified; and upon the whole, more ſcurvily treated, than if he was the ſlyeſt hy⯑pocrite that ever impoſed upon poor ſimplicity. Now, though I am very far from thinking I have any preten⯑ſions to the perfect benevolence of which this author ſpeaks; yet, with⯑out vanity, I may be allowed to poſ⯑ſeſs ſufficient to intitle me to as large [168]a portion of abuſe, and ill-treatment, as if I had been one of the beſt men breathing. In the beginning of this narrative, the reader was told the deſign of viſiting London. Since my arrival there, hitherto, it ſo happened, that I rather obſerved the manners of men, than made any formal reſearches after happineſs. The reader is, as yet, only preſented with the principal ad⯑ventures of a very few weeks; and, as I did not retire from ſociety till the thirty-ſeventh year of my age, am now relating the tranſactions which happened ſo early as in my ſixteenth year, and was engaged in the great ſcene of life all that tedious interval, containing the enterprizes of almoſt twenty years, he may be alarmed in⯑to the dread of never getting to the [169]end of my book. Let him not be alarmed, it is not very probable that I ſhall live long enough to write my⯑ſelf out: nor is it intended to trouble him with a recapitulation of all the misfortunes and indignities which brought me here: for that would in⯑deed be an endleſs labour: the prin⯑cipal paſſages only will be related, and whoever is in poſſeſſion of them, whoever is the firſt traveller after my deceaſe, will find the manuſcript part⯑ed into ſo many diviſions, that if he be a ſkilful editor, he will publiſh to the world only juſt as much at a time, and juſt ſuch a quantity, upon the whole, as he deems moſt intereſting and moſt inſtructive: for whoever reads any part thereof, merely as a book of amuſement, will by no means [170]promote the great moral end with which a man, now languiſhing in a foreſt, undertakes it. Thus much by way of introduction to the future parts of my hiſtory, which hencefor⯑ward will exhibit ſcenes and circum⯑ſtances of a far darker colour, and more intricate impoſition.

Mrs. Darlington's niece was a great ſcribbler; and though her paſſion for Benjamin, and her ſtruggles to ſub⯑due that paſſion had made her of late take little delight in her cuſtomary amuſements, yet now that ſhe con⯑ceived ſome flattering hopes from the confuſion of that young fellow, that ſhe had kindled a flame in his breaſt, without having betrayed the fire in her own, (for to ſome ſuch circum⯑ſtance as this I impute her preſent [171]high ſpirits) ſhe began again to in⯑dulge her favourite pleaſures of pen⯑womanſhip; and ſoon after the lad had left the room, told me ſhe was over⯑head and ears in debt, and was now going to pay all off at once, and then aſked me if I did not love letter-writing. I told her, in reply, that I loved read⯑ing and compoſition paſſionately, but that I had as yet few correſpondents, and therefore few occaſions to write letters. Oh gracious and gemini! (an⯑ſwered this voluble girl) now that is to me altogether amazing.—Of all things in the world, I love writing, next to that I love talking, and next to that riding round the Parks. Oh, my ſtars and garters, and blue rib⯑bons! What a rapture there is in ſending and receiving long letters. [172]When you go into the country, Be⯑nignus, you ſhall poſitively ſend to me every poſt: you ſhall indeed. Here ſhe took out her pocket-book; Let me ſee (penciling) the letter B— B. B. B. where are you B— (turning over the leaves) Oh, here it is. Mon⯑day, Tueſday, Wedneſday, Thurſday, Friday, Saturday, and ſo forth (read⯑ing very faſt) debtor, creditor, et cetera. Where, Benignus, ſhall I find a place for you. I am afraid there's no va⯑cancy—Stay, ſtay, Monday—(ſhe now began again) Monday—Miſs Flarriet, Miſs Scribble, Mrs. Muzzlethought, and Mr. Moral. Poſt comes in at three. Tueſday: Sir Billy Scrawl⯑blot, lady Lovequill, lady Sarah Dun⯑taxit, and Olivia Splitſenſe. Poſt at ſeven in the evening. Wedneſday: [173]Mr. Rigmeroll, Dr. Marphraſe, par⯑ſon Prolix, curate Quick, and Miſs Merrythought. Thurſday, Friday, Saturday, anſwers to ditto.—Seven⯑teen letters in arrears. No, no room I ſee, at preſent, couſin: my hands, you ſee, are quite full; not a ſingle moment unoccupied, and yet not a packet diſpatched ſince you came to town.

As ſoon as ſhe thought proper to ſtop, I expreſſed my concern that ſhe could not ſind a corner for me; to which ſhe briſkly anſwered, Nay, Benignus, don't be uneaſy, for if you will pardon my ſometimes ſending away the poſt without a letter for you, and will accept of a ſcrawl juſt as I can ſteal time from my old en⯑gagements—I ſay, in that caſe, I will [174]joyfully enroll you in the catalogue; what think you of this? May I ſet you down upon theſe familiar terms? By all means, I accept them very thankfully, ſaid I. There then, cries ſhe (writing) I have ſet you down as a now-and-then friend — Lookee. Here you are, Benignus, the Occa⯑ſionaliſt. But good-bye for half an hour (continued ſhe, looking at her watch), the poſt is come in, and I muſt go and ſee what it has brought me; for I expect to be well huffed by every creature that writes to me. My aunt knows I never was half ſo idle in my life: well, your ſervant, I ſhall be down with you at ſupper. Adieu, aunt, farewell Occaſionaliſt.

This converſation was run off as rapidly as the tongue could poſſibly [175]roll it on the ear; and at the end of it, ſhe tripped out of the room, and ſlew as expeditiouſly up ſtairs, as if ſhe really had the whole buſineſs of the nation to ſettle by eleven o'clock that night.

CHAP. LXXXVIII.

Heaven be praiſed, ſaid Mrs. Dar⯑lington, ſmiling, that my little chat⯑tering magpie of a niece is gone. Did you ever hear any body, when ſhe is once ſet in for it, talk ſo much in your life, Benignus? She's very agreeable, madam, ſaid I. Oh, ſhe is a noiſy thing, cries Mrs. Darlington; but now ſhe has taken to one of her [176]writing ſits again, the houſe will be a little ſtill, for we ſhall ſeldom ſee her now, but at meals. She's perfectly rivetted to the deſk, when once ſhe begins. How much do you think that little ſlut ſquanders yearly, cou⯑ſin, in paper, pens, and ſealing-wax, beſides the poſtage of letters? Why, madam, anſwered I, as my couſin is a very great writer, and ſo ample a circle of correſpondents, I ſhould ſup⯑poſe ſhe may exhauſt, in this innocent way, five or ſix ſhillings a week: Speak louder, child, ſaid the old lady, twirling up her ear. I had forgot her deafneſs, and to make amends for that forgetfulneſs, repeated what I had before ſaid, as loud as I reaſon ably could: but even this effort did not anſwer, for Mrs. Darlington ſaid, [177]You need not ſhout neither, couſin; I am not abſolutely deaf to the noiſe of a cannon—the medium, my dear, betwixt a bawl and a whiſper, is the point: five or ſix ſhillings! five or ſix and twenty, Benignus! I ſtared! Truth, ſays ſhe, or I'm not a woman. As I had no reaſon to diſpute this matter, I gave her credit for her one pound five, the certainty of her ſex; and obſerved, that the ſum to be ſure was not very trifling, but that there was no accounting for propenſities. Now, it was the great misfortune of this lady to hear ſo very little of what was ſaid in converſation, that ſhe of⯑ten made ſad work with one's expreſ⯑ſions, and ſometimes by catching up one word, and loſing another, the meaning of the whole ſentiment would [178]frequently appear ſo impertinent and offenſive, that there was no bearing it unnoticed: whenever this happen⯑ed, the good woman, ſuppoſing the perſon ſpeaking taking an unfair ad⯑vantage of her infirmity, would loſe all ſort of patience, and without any regard to perſons, fall into the moſt violent paroxyſms of fury, and was never known perfectly to forgive the perſon whom ſhe imagined ſo to have inſulted her. I had no ſooner got to the unlucky word propenſity, of which ſhe only heard the middle ſyllable pence, upon which I happened to lodge the emphaſis, than imagining I diſ⯑puted her veracity, the colour of con⯑fuſion and anger beſpread her face, and ſhe began in the following man⯑ner. Pence, ſir, pence? As plain as I [179]could ſpeak, I told you ſhillings: What do you mean by pence? Me⯑thinks 'tis too early for you, ſir, who are juſt come into my houſe, to in⯑vade the laws of hoſpitality, inſult my misfortune, and diſpute my ve⯑racity. But infirmity is always the butt of boys,—always laughed at, and always contradicted: yet I heard you, ſir, be aſſured: Yes, and I can re⯑peat every thing you ſaid too: You ſaid I muſt not take account of a few pence: I would have you to know, ſir, I am not a mercenary woman, I love my niece as well as ever parent loved a daughter, nor did I wiſh to abridge her amuſements, I ſpoke only for the ſake of converſation, in a harmleſs chit-chat way; but I ſhall learn to hold my tongue when I am [180]before ſome perſons: I ſhall take care what I ſay for the future, depend up⯑on it, ſir, I ſhall. Pence, indeed! Fye upon it, fye upon it! What, in the very firſt month to behave rudely to me! I could not have imagined it, couſin, I could not have imagined it!

When Mrs. Darlington had brought her ſpeech to a concluſion, ſhe drew herſelf up into a heap, waved herſelf up and down in her chair, in the true ſee-ſaw of diſtreſs, flung her a⯑pron over her face, began to ſtamp with an angry vehemence, and ſeem⯑ed to mourn heavily that a relation could be ſo cruel to turn pounds into pence, and play upon her misfor⯑tune, becauſe he ſuppoſed ſhe was deaf, which ſhe violently declared ſhe [181]was not. I did, and ſaid, every thing I could to exculpate myſelf from the charge of either playing upon her misfortune, or diſputing her veracity, proteſting that ſhe miſunderſtood me, and that I hoped ſhe would ever find me above the incivilities and cruel⯑ties ſhe was haſtily led to attribute to me. My apologies were vain; ſhe inſiſted upon it, that what ſhe did hear, was a flat contradiction of what ſhe had aſſerted, and that ſhe did not doubt what ſhe did not hear was downright abuſe. Seeing her in this temper, I thought it beſt to leave her to herſelf, and accordingly roſe to go into another room, till the ſtorm was blown over; but this prudent deſign made her ten times worſe than ever, and, in her idea, ſo aggravated the [182]offence, that ſhe got up with great diſdain, and toſſing herſelf out of the room, ſaid there was no occaſion for my withdrawing in the midſt of her miſery, to convince her that her com⯑pany was diſagreeable; for as I thought proper to be her gueſt, ſhe knew the laws of politeneſs, as well as ſome folks thoſe of good manners, and ſhould rather turn herſelf out of the houſe than her viſitor.

Being left alone, I gave way to the pique which her laſt words had oc⯑caſioned, and thinking myſelf ill uſed, caught up my hat, and without tak⯑ing leave of a ſingle creature, or ſpeak⯑ing a word to any one, opened the great door myſelf, and ſallied into the ſquare.

And is there not then, ſaid I, (walk⯑ing along the pavement) is there not [183] one conſiſtent character? Am I never to meet with a ſingle being, regular in its conduct, and eſtabliſhed in its principles. Are all mankind thus variable? Shall I never find a perſon to-morrow, like what I found him to day. Of all women, at firſt ſight, Mrs. Darlington appeared the beſt na⯑tured and the beſt bred; Mr. Dra⯑per ſeemed the moſt foppiſh and effe⯑minate of men; the female who ſa⯑luted me in the coach, the moſt af⯑fable of girls; Mr. Skain the moſt obſequious of taylors; Mr. Abrahams the moſt accompliſhed of ſtewards; Alicia the happieſt of nieces; and Spangle the moſt courageous of cox⯑combs; and yet every one of them have changed their characters, and, at a ſecond view, are the very reverſe what they appeared at firſt: Fronti [184] nulla fides, ſure enough, as Abrahams ſays: Why, I ſhall begin to believe by and by there is not a conſiſtent character—not a ſemper eadem, upon earth. And not be very wide of the truth, neither, anſwers a voice from behind, which, on turning round, I obſerved came from a gentle⯑man walking pretty near me. This induced me to quit reflections, for the preſent, and to enquire of this perſon which was the way to Dover⯑ſtreet, intending to treſpaſs, for a night or two, (till I could otherwiſe accom⯑modate myſelf) upon my friend Dra⯑per. The gentleman anſwered with great curteſy, but with extreme quick⯑neſs of ſpeech, that we were at no great diſtance from Dover-ſtreet, and that, although it was the contrary road from that he was purſuing, yet [185]that he would very readily ſtep back with me through the ſquares, and ſet me right. I thanked him for his offer, and turning back (for I had gone utterly out of the way) we walked ſociably and nimbly together. You have apartments in Dover-ſtreet, I preſume, ſir, queſtioned the gen⯑tleman? I have a friend reſides there, ſir, replied I, with whom I am going to paſs the night, but being very late⯑ly come to London, and but a poor recollector of ſtreets, I am not yet ſufficient maſter of the many intricate turnings of the town. Nor I, neither, I'll aſſure you, ſir, reſumed the gentle⯑man, who have been fourteen years a houſe-keeper in it: the labyrinths of London, I can tell you, are not eaſily found out, and a man may paſs his [186]whole life here, and mix in all its buſtle, yet in many reſpects be a ſtranger ſtill. Juſt as he ſaid this, a ſudden ſhower began to pelt us pretty ſmartly. Ods bobs! cries the gentle⯑man, I don't know how you may like this ſort of amuſement, but I had much rather be ſoaking the inſide than the outſide, and if you ſhould not hap⯑pen to be in haſte, I know of a little ſnug place hard by, where we might take a friendly ſneaker together, and purſue our walk as ſoon as the ſhower is over. There was ſomething about the ſtranger I liked, and agreeing chearfully to his propoſal, and ob⯑ſerving that my time was my own, he rubbed his hands pleaſurably toge⯑ther, and ſlapping his hat, ran briſkly through the rain, till he came to the [187]middle of the ſtreet, and entered, what is known by the name of an eat⯑ing-houſe.

CHAP. LXXXIX.

The gentleman deſiring a private room, the waiter ſhewed us into a little box up one pair of ſtairs, and with innumerable bends of the body, ſtood attending our commands. It's too ſoon to eat, whiſpered my guide to me, but theſe houſes always ex⯑pect us to call for ſomething, and, therefore, ſuppoſe we order a veal⯑cutlet, a pork ſteak, or a mutton⯑chop, or any little thing upon earth. Pleaſe yourſelf, ſir, replied I, nothing [188]comes amiſs to me. Well then, bring us, waiter, a diſh of cutlets, a couple of ſmall baſons of bouillie, and a ſal⯑lad. Perhaps, though, ſir, you love tarts: Yes, I know you youngſters have a ſweet tooth. Harkee, waiter, add a few tarts and jellies, and let us have it immediately. On the table in two minutes, gemmin, cried the wai⯑ter, and ſkipped out of the room like a flaſh of lightning. When he was gone, if you would chooſe any little changes, or additions, ſay ſo, cries the caterer. Ods ſo, (laying his ſinger on the belly) I forgot, this is the moſt celebrated houſe in England for ſau⯑ſages—they dreſs them, ſir, to a nice⯑ty; Aye, aye, I know they will be quite a treat. Up flies the waiter.— The gentleman, my friend, (conti⯑nues [189]my obliging provider) has a fancy to taſte Mrs. Broyler's ſauſages — ſhe is celebrated for them, you know, ſo you'll—Very ſorry, gem⯑min, interrupts the waiter, can't ob⯑lige you, but Mr. Maunge had the laſt pound of ſauſages for his ſupper; —Have ſome of the fineſt cold veni⯑ſon paſty (which was ordered for a company which did not come) that ever was taſted. Veniſon paſty, ex⯑claims the gentleman again, rubbing his hands with a moſt vehement friction —better and better ſtill; we are in luck, young gentleman, hey? Up with the paſty, Timothy, this mo⯑ment:—In the toſs of a pancake, re⯑plied the waiter, and clattered down ſtairs to provide it. Ods fiſh, rejoins the gentleman, what heads we have: [190]nothing to drink now? What's your liquor, ſir?—We muſt have a decent quantum of liquor, becauſe that is what is chiefly depended upon: eat a mouth⯑ful, and drink ten, that's the land⯑lord's maxim; and what I am going to tell you will ſound odd, but I aſſure you this little nut ſhell of a place af⯑fords as good Madeira as ever was laid to lip, and for porter—Fronti nulla fides, as you very juſtly obſerve: this unpromiſing hut furniſhes the beſt of every thing, and who would think it, hey? Suppoſe then, ſir, an⯑ſwered I, we have a bottle of that Madeira, and a pot of that porter.— With a toaſt, and a ſprinkle of the nutmeg in the latter, hey? aſks the gentleman, you are a very ſenſible lad, and know what's what, I can [191]ſee that. Upon this he ran to the door, and ordered the liquors to be brought immediately. This was pre⯑ſently done, and the ſupper (which the gentleman reliſhed ſurprizing⯑ly, obſerving, that as the hoſt⯑eſs was his friend, ſhe would think he was diſpleaſed if he ſent the things down without taſting) was ſoon over, for my friend was as briſk at cating, as walking and talking. Indeed, every thing he did or ſaid was abrupt and precipitate. He was characteriſed by a keen eye, ſmall features, ſmart turn of the countenance, and a little round, underſized perſon; dreſſed in a plain ſuit of light blue, neither abſo⯑lutely good, nor abſolutely good for nothing. A pert ſort of flippancy marked his face, and, were I not [192]afraid of hazarding improper lan⯑guage, I ſhould ſay, there was lo⯑quacity in his looks. He had all the lively ſenſe of Mr. Draper, but with⯑out any of his elegance; yet his ſen⯑timents were ſo agreeably ſelf-ſuffi⯑cient, that prattle ſeldom treſpaſſed ſo little upon patience. After he had poured in almoſt all the porter, and three fourths of the Madeira (for I declined more than a glaſs of each) he became all jig and jollity, was as fanciful in his attitudes, and move⯑ments, as a Frenchman: ſung catches with aſtoniſhing humour, and rung the changes of convivial ſentiment ſo facetiouſly, ſometimes playing a tune with his knuckles upon the table, and ſometimes ſhewing off mathe⯑matical tricks with the glaſſes, that I [193]could have liſtened, and laughed with him till the morning.

CHAP. XC.

The watchman calling eleven o'-clock, as he paſſed by our window, made me look as if I thought it time to be going, which the gentleman perceiving, threw up the faſh, and damning the watchman for a talka⯑tive ſcoundrel, bade him not diſturb the neighbourhood, but keep his knowledge to himſelf. Nay, ſir, ſays I, it is not in the power of ſuch a tell-tale to make me put on my gloves, while I am in ſuch company: I feel no inclination to move, I aſſure [194]you: ſo far from it, that I am almoſt ready to apply to you the compliment which Eve paid to her huſband:

Say you ſo, ſir? anſwers the gentle⯑man, then ring for another bottle, for to tell you the truth, I like your company full as well as you love mine, and muſt draw one more cork to our better acquaintance. The cork was ſoon drawn, and a bumper drank on both ſides, while our hands were as cordially ſhaken, as if we had been rocked in the ſame cradle, and were now reviving the intimacies of youth. To me, cries my companion, all ſea⯑ſons are equal, I can with equal fa⯑cility ſleep in the day, and riſe in the [195]night, or vice verſa: I never had the head-ach in my life, nor ever took a doſe of phyſic ſince I became liable to diſtemper: once or twice a year, in⯑deed, I buy a few bottles full of ſtuff from my apothecary, becauſe he is a worthy man, and I wiſh to be in his books—but as for ſwallowing any of it—pardon me in that particular: No, ſir, I toſs them for the moſt part into the Thames, and at the end of about three doſes thus demoliſhed, my apothecary (ſuppoſing them to have been taken) the next time he meets me can ſee they have done their duty, and with a very ſolemn phiz, aſſures me I look fifty pound better ſince I began to take his me⯑dicines; while I, charmed with the [196]cheat, perfectly agree with him, and to carry on the jeſt, hint to him a ſuſ⯑picion that I verily believe he has ſaved my life. If you would live up⯑on any terms with your friends, ſir, and they have any thing queer about them, agreeably deceive them, and they are yours for ever. But is that quite ſo honeſt, ſir? ſaid I. Pho, an⯑ſwers the ſtranger, 'tis that pious fraud ſo univerſally recommended by the learned. One ill-timed truth will ruin a friendſhip of twenty years growth, but a million of pleaſant de⯑ceptions, will only make a man love you a million times the better: I have tried all ways, and I tell you there is but this one upon earth that will do: ſo drink about.

[197]As my friend ſeemed to be ſo tho⯑roughly ſkilled in the arts of life, I was willing to gain ſomething from his experience, and briefly recounting to him the heads of my hiſtory, and concluded by aſking his opinion of my conduct, and purſuit? With re⯑gard to your conduct, ſays he, frank⯑ly, I think it is the conduct of a very young fellow; and with regard to your purſuit, I think it is the pur⯑ſuit of every man breathing: but I confeſs you are hunting for it in a new way. Ha! Ha! Ha! Droll e⯑nough, upon my ſoul. Well, my boy—Be—Benignus, that I think is your name, and a very proper name too—here's to your ſucceſs, with all my heart. Here's wiſhing you may find what you are in ſearch of. Off [198]went a freſh bumper; and as it was upon a particular occaſion, away flew the glaſs over his head. I did not quite ſo well reliſh his laugh, though I made an aukward effort to join in it, and then, with a glibneſs and vo⯑lubility beyond Draper himſelf, he continued the converſation.

CHAP. XCI.

And ſo, my dear Benignus, thou art ſeriouſly, and bona fide, running up and down the world after happi⯑neſs? Hic labor hoc opus eſt! Oh pueri⯑lity, Oh inexperience! Pr'ythee give up the expenſive purſuit of travelling after ſuch matters, and learn all that it was ever in the power of human [199]nature to teach you with reſpect to a knowledge of mankind in two words, Know thyſelf: for in that knowledge is included and exhauſted every va⯑riety, and every novelty under the ſun. Men waſte the flower of youth in turning over books, going from place to place, hearing what other people ſay, and gaping at what other people do: meaſuring earth and ſeas, waſting their fortunes, perplexing their heads, and blinding their eyes, and then ſitting themſelves impudent⯑ly down in an elbow chair, exclaim, with all the pomp of ignorance, that they have ſeen, and that they know the world. Dear bought, and far⯑fetched, in good truth. One might ac⯑commodate one's ſelf, ſir, with ſix times the intelligence, without ſtepping over [200]one's own threſhold. Turn the eye in wards, inwards—Your health, my good friend; cloſe argument is of a dry nature—turn, I ſay, the eye in⯑wards inſtead of outwards: inſtead of looking into the world, look into your own heart, and there you will find the univerſe epitomized.

How, ſir, ſaid I, is it poſſible I can acquire as much experience from— Pry'thee don't put me out, anſwered the gentleman; I have read, and ſtared, opened my eyes, and opened my mouth, and aſked advice, and taken my own way, as much as any man. For above a dozen years was I, as the poet ſays, an idle gazer on the light of heaven; and I might perhaps have been an idle gazer ſtill, if I had not found out, that it was [201]all vexation of ſpirit. One book told me one thing, which I ſaw abſolutely contradicted in another; and the friends whom to-day I conſulted, were of quite a different opinion the next morning: ſo at laſt, ſir, I e'en gave up the hope of wiſdom in mere deſpair, ſold off all my books, avoid⯑ed the company of my friends, and in deſpite of authors, and all their works, took the liberty, like a free⯑born Engliſhman, to think for my⯑ſelf. Are books then uſeleſs, in your opinion, ſir? ſaid I, a little eagerly. I have not ſaid, rejoined the ſtranger, that they are, but a page of one's own heart is more worth, my dear boy, than a folio of dull printed elaborate compoſitions—of ſuch things as are now daily vomited from the over⯑charged [202]preſs. Volumes generally expatiate upon facts, that the genius of old Flaccus would have compreſſed, and that without crouding the ſenſe, in a ſingle leaf. Now as to making the grand tour in ſearch of happi⯑neſs, I never heard of a more ſleeve⯑leſs errand: why, I tell you again, aye, and I'll maintain it, all which is done or ſaid in the whole world, is written on the tablet of a ſingle heart Every thing human has been at one time or other tranſacted within our⯑ſelves. Indeed, ſaid I, ſir?—Yes, re⯑ſumed he, and I'll prove it, as ſoon as I've drank this glaſs of Madeira. At one moment we act the tyrant, at an⯑other the ſlave, now we are inclined to profuſion, then, without rhyme or reaſon, ſhift to parſimony. You talk [203]of ſudden alterations, and think that Mrs. Darlington, and that Mr. Dra⯑per you mentioned, ſingular charac⯑ters. Why, what do you mean by ſingularity? I know of no ſuch thing. 'Tis a mere expletive; a ſound with⯑out ſenſe. I, Alexander Green, like the reſt of my fellow harlequins. Your name is Green, ſir, ſaid I, is it? Pſhaw, anſwered my friend, peeviſh⯑ly, was there ever ſuch a damned queſtion?—When a man is digging into the very bowels of fact—(for I ſpurn philoſophy) to interrupt him in the utmoſt pith, with a baſe interro⯑gatory about his name.—What does it ſignify whether you call a man, Green, Red, White, or Yellow?—Sir, let me finiſh my remarks, and I will be all colours in the rainbow at your [240]ſervice. I begged my angry friend to proceed; which, after toſſing off an⯑other brimmer, and ſhaking me by the hand, in token of perfect forgive⯑neſs, he did.

CHAP. XCII.

I, my dear Benignus — by-the-by, what a curſed claſſical name you have got—Oh fye! (anſwered I) do you, who have juſt been upbraiding me for taking notice of names—do you?— Ha! Ha! Ha! That's the very thing, rejoined Green; Why I was juſt go⯑ing to tell you that man was the moſt laughable contradiction of all God's animals! I am, as you are, a com⯑pound of every thing. Exempli gratia: [205]I have played the Proteus fifty times a day. I have riſen from my bed, in a morning, with ſo pitiful and raſcally a ſentiment, that I grudged myſelf the muffin at my breakfaſt, and charged my ſervant (on peril of loſing her place) not to butter it on both ſides: the tea has ſcarce had time to ſtrengthen in the pot, when this dirty idea has been turned out of my head, by ſome ſprightlier fit, which, as it brightened the proſ⯑pect, rendered me more ſociable, and then I have been in a humour to bleſs every body about me. Perhaps, in the next hour, I meet in my walk ſome croſs adventure, or pick up in my way ſome curſed reflection, and ſo its all over with me again. Thus, out of ſorts, I hurry home to enjoy [206]the great prerogative of a houſe⯑keeper; to wit, the pleaſure of re⯑venging myſelf upon my family. In this caſe, my ſervants not only know my knock, but the ſtate of the tem⯑per when that knock is given. Un⯑happy his fate who opens the door: woe to the cat, dog, wife, or child, which ſtands in my way, while I am under this malignant influence: pre⯑ſently, ſir, fatigue gives me up to drowſineſs;—I ſleep it off, and ſome⯑times, to the great joy of my domeſ⯑tics, awake in the beſt diſpoſition imaginable. By and by a tender ſen⯑ſation ſeizes me; I weep, as I relieve the woe of the wretched, ſympathy melts me into tears, and immediately afterwards the tickling of a feather convulſes me with laughter: and thus, [207]in the ſhort compaſs of twenty-four hours, I experience twenty-four changes in my conſtitution. Examine yourſelf, young gentleman, and then as ſure as this bottle is almoſt at the bottom, you will find the caſe your own. Were you never at one time prompted to the moſt petulant ani⯑moſities, yet at another ſo peacefully humoured, or elſe ſo lazily diſpoſed, that you would put up with the ſe⯑vereſt injury, rather than be at the trouble or pain of reſenting it. Now indolence, now paſſion, now one whimſy, now another: firſt freak, then ſpleen, now one thing, then another: in fine, and to bring my diſcourſe and my liquor (which you ſee runs clear as amber to the laſt drop) at once to a concluſion, the [208]prevailing maggot of the minute car⯑ries all before it. And now, ſir, what think you of taking a farewell glaſs, and pledging an innocent draught of ſomething in the ſpirituous way to our next meeting: a ſup of Nantz is a very fine thing to ſettle the ſtomach for the night; I feel myſelf a little ſickiſh, and ſo pr'ythee, my dear boy, preſs your thumb upon the bell.

The diſcourſe, arguments, method, and geſtures of this Mr. Green, were ſo infinitely out of the common road, that I could not for ſome time make him any other anſwer to his laſt re⯑queſt, than by the ſilent aſſent of do⯑ing, with dumb ſurprize, as he bid me. In obedience to the ſummons (though with much leſs agility than before) the waiter came winking in⯑to [209]the room, with his waiſt-coat un⯑buttoned, and his napkin tied round his head. Briſk, cried Mr. Green, bring up a noggin of Nantz; and be⯑fore you venture to attack the ſtairs, my good lad, pr'ythee rub thy eyes a little, for the ſake of thy noſe, for at preſent thou art really walking in thy ſleep: this obſervation, Green ac⯑companied with ſo awakening a ſlap on the ſhoulder of Mr. Briſk, that it provoked the poor fellow to inform us it was paſt three o'clock, that all the company were gone out of the houſe, that he had a moſt violent tooth ach, and had been obliged to bind up his jaws, and to lull it by a little nap. Aye—aye, poor fellow, cries Green, then bring up two noggins of Nantz, and apply one to thy own [210]tooth my little Briſh. Briſk held his hand to his cheek, nodded thanks, and deſcended into the cellar.

CHAP. XCIII.

With a very large portion of re⯑mark, ſhrewdneſs, novelty, and ſheer humour, there was a mixture of meaneſs, vulgarity, and low life, about Mr. Green, that (unapt as I was to develope characters, at that time), I did not ſet him down as a man of faſhion. As all excellence is compa⯑rative, and as we can only compare one known object with another, I mea⯑ſured this gentleman with Mr. Dra⯑per, who, in ſpite of his queerneſſes, [211]was ſtill my ſtandard. Aſter the moſt impartial ſurvey, Green ſhrunk ex⯑ceedingly: he wanted not only the prepoſſeſſing advantages of Mr. Dra⯑per's perſon, but his eaſe, his addreſs, his unaffectedneſs, and his deportment. Yet was Green the archeſt, drolleſt, dryeſt fellow in the univerſe, and ſoon after he had toſſed off the Nantz, took affectionately hold of my hand, and ſpoke as follows.

You are a very young fellow, I ſee, Benignus; I met you, or rather over⯑took you, in the ſtreet, and accoſted you as you was thinking aloud. I of⯑fered to ſhew you the way you had loſt. I invited you to go with me to a public houſe, you did ſo, and for any thing you could tell to the con⯑trary, I might have carried you to a [212]brothel, ſtripped you naked, and ei⯑ther turned you adrift, or cut your throat. We are both ſtrangers. What might have been the conſequence of your credulity? Nay, don't turn pale, you are fallen into good hands; the only inconvenience you will ever ex⯑perience from meeting with me, is the neceſſity you will be under to pay the bill; for to tell you the truth, I am a little out at elbows, partly indeed from ſhaking them too often. Fortune has lately played me a few of her tricks, and I have a few debts of honour on my hands, which make it convenient for me to be as little fond of diſtinc⯑tion as poſſible. Yet I venture forth in the duſk, and as it is not yet day⯑light, I ſhall get home in ſafety, ſo God bleſs you, my dear boy! and [213]when you think of Alexander Green, let it put you in mind of the old max⯑im—Beware of your company—Fare⯑well, I will ſend up Briſk to take the bill.

So far from being offended with the venial trick Mr. Green had put upon me, I was truly touched with his ſituation, and when I conſi⯑ſidered how much more fatally he might have taken advantage of my ſimplicity, I thought there was a great ſhare of honeſty about him. Of this I was preſently more convinced; for upon putting five guineas into his hands, as he was going away, he laid down three of them upon the table, and told me, that though he was a gameſter, he was not a ſharper, often as thoſe characters were united— Luck, he ſaid, was juſt now ſorely [214]againſt him, and had driven him (not for the firſt time, though, ſays he), to the want of a meal. You have given me, ſir, three meals in one; I will keep two guineas becauſe I happen to have a wife, and two or three young kids at home, and till I turn up trumps again, it's like to be a loſing game with them. Two guineas, there⯑fore, will, as ſhe knows how to play her cards as well as any body, keep the honours in her hand, with regard to butcher and baker, and ſo forth;— but I'll touch no more: not that I pretend to any niceties, but as I have drawn you to the verge of the pre⯑cipice, and made you pay decently for ſhewing you the danger, I'll be damned before I ſhove you headlong to the bottom, and ſo ſpoil one of the [215]beſt things I ever did ſince I was created: and ſo good night to you. —Saying this, he tied a hankerchief looſely round his neck, and again ſhaking me by the hand, ran down ſtairs; leaving me to paſs the remain⯑der of the morning where and how I thought proper.

CHAP. XCIV.

And yet ſuch was the entertainment Mr. Green had given me, that I by no means repented the accident which brought us together, even though it prevented me from getting a bed; for after I had paid the bill, and compli⯑mented Mr. Briſk the waiter, he in⯑formed [216]me I could not have a lodging there, if I would give the world for it; at the ſame time telling me, that a chamber-counſel occupied the firſt floor bed-chamber, that his miſtreſs lay in the two pair of ſtairs, that a country curate had taken one of the garrets till Saturday, the other was engaged by the quarter to four hackney writers, who pigged together in the night, and ſcribbled together, all at a deſk, in the day; and that the eating-room and kitchen were full with the cook, himſelf, and other ſer⯑vants, adding that he did not think there was ſpace beſides ſufficient for a cat to tuck herſelf round till the morning. But, ſir, ſays he, there's a houſe not a vaſt way off, where you may reſt, which is open at all hours, [217]on purpoſe for ſtraggling gentlemen; or, I can perhaps get your honour a chair, which will carry you to your lodgings. Thinking it either too late, or too early to go to Draper's, I conſented to the propoſal of the ſe⯑dan, which being called, Mr. Briſk ordered the chairman to embox me, and convey me with great care to the Hummums.—This Hummums had ſomething to me in the ſound I did not like; and the terrible image which Mr. Alexander Green had drawn be⯑fore me, of ſtrippers and cut-throats, ſo deterred me, that I tapped at the window, and directed the fellows, at all events, to convey me to Dover⯑ſtreet, and ſet down at the corner houſe on the right hand. When I arrived there, Draper, ſo far from [218]being in bed, as I expected, was ſit⯑ting alone in his dining-room, with a book in his hand, and the moment he ſaw me, ſprang up with his uſual vi⯑vacity, and ſaid he expected me three hours ago, as Mrs. Darlington had ſent to his houſe an account of the quarrel, ſome polite conceſſions, and a tender invitation to return. There, my dear Benignus, is the lady's card: civil enough, and as much as you can expect from an old woman; but hang it—don't go there to live any more, 'Tis not the place for a young fellow: here is a monſtrous large houſe—you are a kind of lad that I love, and if you don't diſlike me, there is a bed up ſtairs which you will accept of. I was pleaſed to receive ſo obliging a card from my couſin, as I by no means [219]wiſhed to break with her, and her meſſage took a heavy load from my heart: for when paſſion cools, any alie⯑nation or eſtrangement from our friends is a moſt ſhocking ſenſation. By the bye, ſays Draper, who do you think brought the card; your old friend Benjamin, and the poor boy was cry⯑ing in my houſe ready to burſt himſelf, and begging me upon his knees, to preſs your return to Cavendiſh⯑Square.

I felt and underſtood the tears of honeſt Benjamin, but did not think proper to explain them. And now, cries Draper, what the deuce has become of you ſince you left Dar⯑lington's in ſuch a huff: you flew off in a tangent of delicacy—your dearly [220]beloved delicacy, I find! I related to him my adventure at the eating⯑houſe, and there were tears in his eyes when I finiſhed—Poor Green, ſaid he—Many a worſe character than he might have trepanned you into a more ſplendid apartment, and had leſs mercy on your ſimplicity: well, Be⯑nignus, go to bed and ſleep: lie down a child, and riſe a man. Not ill pleaſed with having eſcaped the Hum⯑mums, and found all matters ſo well at Darlington's, I retired to repoſe, and did not long wait the embraces of ſleep: while Draper (as I had af⯑terwards reaſon to believe) retired to the embraces of a very different na⯑ture, for Priſcilla had thought proper to return, and Draper had ſufficient [221]attachment to receive her again in his train.

By eight o'clock in the morning, poor Benjamin came of his own ac⯑cord to Mr. Draper's, and upon hear⯑ing I was there, became ſo tranſport⯑ed with joy, that he could not be reſtrained from running into my cham⯑ber, and even opening my curtains to ſatisfy his grateful heart. I bring you, ſir, ſaid he, the kindeſt love from both my miſtreſſes and uncle, and all the ſervants, from one end to the other, hoping you will be ſo kind as to come home. Benjamin, anſwered I, ſtep down ſtairs my lad, and I will be with you preſently. As ſoon as I was dreſſed, I wrote a very civil card to my couſins, promiſing myſelf [222]frequently the pleaſure of waiting on them, and acquainting them with the reſolution Draper and I, as two young bachelors, had taken to reſide together, &c. then going to Benja⯑min (whom I found bruſhing my hat in the face of the only ſervant of Draper's that was out of bed, and he ſtanding idle with a duſter in his hand) Here, Ben, ſaid I, carry this with my compliments, to your ladies, and pray don't forget me to your uncle,—when you are at leiſure too, Mr. Ben, I will get you to bring my portmanteau, in a hackney-coach, as I ſhall ſpend a little time at Mr. Dra⯑per's. And ſo then, ſir, replies Ben⯑jamin, with a melancholy voice, we are not to have you I find! I was at [223]ſome pains to quiet this excellent young fellow, as to my continuance in Dover-ſtreet, but at laſt effected it, by aſſuring him he would ſee me at Mrs. Darlington's, agreeable to the promiſe in my letter, almoſt every day. This comforted him exceed⯑ingly, and juſt as he was ſetting off, by ſome means or other, the lower button-hole of my coat caught in a little hook at the bottom of the ban⯑niſters (in turning to go up ſtairs) and tore a piece completely away. Now, ſaid I, my poor old ſuit of black, 'tis all over with thee; conſtant com⯑panions we have been a long time, but thy hour is come at laſt, and and we muſt part. I am ſure, replies Benjamin, if the coat could ſpeak, [224]ſir, it would be ſorry to leave ſo good a maſter; but your honour has talk⯑ed about a new ſuit a long while, and if you are not provided with a taylor, I can recommend you to a neat workman, and one of the tip-top ſort. Pr'ythee ſend him then, ſaid I, Benjamin, for I am ſo ſtrange a fel⯑low as to let a thing tumble from my back before I go about repairing it, and though I am this day to dine with my agent have I nothing fit to put on: however, ſend your friend, and perhaps he may mend this till he can make another. He ſhall be with you directly, ſir, replies Benjamin— he's a-kin to Nancy Dennis, though between ourſelves rather ſhy of ſpeak⯑ing to her, becauſe he's above the [225]world, as the ſaying is. How is Nancy, Benjamin? return'd I; I wiſh your friendſhip for one another may not ſoften into a tender paſſion Ben⯑jamin, before you are aware: What think you? I—I—I'll ſend the taylor to you immediately ſir, ſays Benja⯑min, bluſhing and ſtammering as he gently ſhut to the door. Having an hour or two upon my hands, and not finding myſelf in the leaſt drowſy, although I had ſo little reſt, I ſat my⯑ſelf down to Mr. Draper's deſk, and wrote one letter to Mr. Greaves, one to my attorney near my village, and one to poor Mr. Blewitt, to whom I had already ſent a meſſage, of the na⯑ture of which the reader will be in due time acquainted (as he will, ſhould I have life to introduce them) [226]with a great many other matters of importance: for, probably, there are many perſons he meets with in this hiſtory, with whom he would like to cultivate a more intimate acquaint⯑ance, and thus far therefore I will venture to aſſure him, that moſt of the characters which have already figured in this narrative, will make their ſecond appearance, when it is proper to bring them on the ſcene, and before theſe papers are concluded, the agreeable ſurprizes of Providence will preſent him with the fall of the mercenary grocer (whom I truſt is not forgotten), and the re-flouriſhing fortunes of the benevolent Blewitt. But this is an anticipation I give into, merely for the quiet of the kind hearted reader, to whom I would re⯑concile [227]all that is here inſerted for his entertainment: after this promiſe therefore, it is expected he will at leaſt reward me with his patience, and permit me to diſplay circum⯑ſtances, not juſt as might be wiſhed, nor juſt agreeable to the laws of ro⯑mance and comedy, but juſt as they actually happened in the natural courſe of things.