CHAP. I.

THE world is the great ſcene of life, through which we are to ſcramble; of courſe the know⯑ledge of that world, is the beſt ſci⯑ence we can learn; but open as it is to the view of every man, ſpread [2]as the volume is before us, it is not every one that can read, and fewer there are, that as they read can underſtand.

Novels have been introduced to delineate and depict this ſcene, and characters have been drawn to ſhew the manners and diſpoſition of the people|; but they have in general been ſo ill penned, as to deſtroy the very end they aimed at. The characters they have exhibited, have been ſo deformed, as to bear no reſemblance to nature; the traits of life have been ſo exaggerated, and the truth of things ſo maſked, as to deceive the reader, inſtead of [3]informing him; and the dullnesſs and inſipidity of modern novels have been ſuch, as to diſguſt and tire him, be⯑fore he has got half way through them. There are but few men capa⯑ble of painting life as it is, thoſe only who have travelled on, for a number of years, through the vari⯑ous ſcenes of it, and made obſerva⯑tions as they paſſed; and even theſe without the happy art of drawing characters to the life, making a pro⯑per ſelection of them, and bringing them in properly to their aid, can nei⯑ther hope to improve, or to enter⯑tain: but a novel fraught with ob⯑ſervation, full of incident, and replete with worldly knowledge, is the moſt [4]inſtructive book a young mind can read; for thus, learning wiſdom from the raſhneſs and folly of others, he will be able to ſee his way before him, avoid the ſnares and calamities too often attendant upon life, and, per⯑haps, make his way to the end of it, with eaſe and comfort.

It is on this principle, and with the proſpect of being uſe to man⯑kind, that I have attempted to lay before the world, the adventures of a young man, who, in the courſe of a very few years, ſaw as much of the world, as moſt others have done in double his time. I was very in⯑timate with him, and of courſe, am [5]as well able to recite his adventures, as he could have done himſelf; he is now no more, and having lelf; no family, I have no ear to wound. The occurrences he met with in life, when related by him to me, were highly entertaining, and I will en⯑deavour to tranſmit them ſo to my rea⯑ders.

My friend, Will. Ramble, was the ſon and only child of a country gentleman, who was great part of his life a Colonel of militia of a county in the ſouth of England: he bred up his ſon to a military life, inſtilled into him principles of high honour, and gave him a finiſhed [5]education; he was naturally a brave man, of a fine ſoldier-like figure, and a poliſhed gentleman; but never having been, during his father's life, much in the world, except in the military line, in which he was bred; and it being time of peace, his ideas were in a great meaſure conſined to the manners and cuſtoms of the diſ⯑trict in which he lived. His father, however, had brought him on by purchaſe in the army, and he was a Lieutenant Colonel of foot, at the age of twenty-eight, when the old gentleman died; on looking into his father's effects, he found himſelf poſſeſſed of a good family-manſion, in the weſt; an eſtate of about ſeven [7]hundred pounds a year, and about three thouſand pounds in ſecurities. Having no tye to fix him to any par⯑ticular ſpot, and fortunately having found a tenant for his houſe and land, he determined to ſpend ſome part of his money in the ramble of a few years, in ſearch of that information he found himſelf deficient in; that is, to acquire a knowledge of men and manners, from the objects as they paſs before him; as much as to ſay, to travel firſt through his own country, and next, to ſee what was doing in the neighbouring ones; perhaps, ſays he, in this excurſion I may pick up a wife, with a fortune equal to my [8]own, that may enable me to retire to my native place, and live with as much credit as did my father before me; in which caſe I will turn my ſword into a plough-ſhare: if not, and a war ſhould break out, I will purſue the line of my profeſſion, and devote my life to the ſervice of my country.

Theſe were my friend Will's principles, and with theſe he ſat out, not for the metropolis, the cen⯑tre to which all the young and the giddy fly; but proceeded to the ex⯑tent of his line at firſt, beginning at the very North of the Highlands, and determining to retreat ſouthward.

The Colonel took with him an [9]honeſt faithful ſervant, and Iriſhman, that had been recommended to him by a Brigadier-General, who had ſerved ſeveral campaigns in India, and who having no further occaſion for him, urged my friend to take him, as a man who had travelled through moſt countries, had a great deal of ſhrewd cunning, a courage and ſtea⯑dineſs equal to a bull-dog, and a fidelity not to be corrupted, and ſcarcely to be equalled. He had loſt an eye, in an engagement, but was not on that account the more un⯑ſightly for a ſoldier's ſervice. He was truly diſciplined, and as ſuch, obedient to command; and though ſomewhat coarſe in his language, [10]had a certain honeſty about him, that made him a valuable acquiſi⯑tion.

His name was Flint, and his rank a Corporal. When his maſter con⯑ſigned him to my friend, he ſaid, ‘Flint, you have had a hard ſer⯑vice with me, and it is time you ſhould have a furlough. I am al⯑moſt worn out in arms; you are a young man, (for he was not more than forty years of age) and that quiet retreat, that I may co⯑yet, will ill ſuit your buſy, buſtling ſpirit; I recommend you, therefore, [...]o my friend Ramble; he is a bro⯑ther-ſoldier, if another war ſhould [11]break out, with him you may ſee a little more of ſervice; be faithful to him, as you have been to me, and he will love you as much as I do.’ "Flint," returned the Cor⯑poral, ‘and plaiſe your honor, will ſarve your friend as he would ſarve yourſelf. Ill as dame Fortune has treated me, I ſhall not be unwil⯑ling to enliſt again under her banners, and give our enemies ano⯑ther drubbing; and if I find in Squire Ramble, as good a com⯑mander as your honor, I truſt he will find me as good a ſoldier.’

CHAP. II.

I SHALL not give my readers a detail of the various ſtages our hero paſſed, nor a deſcriptive ac⯑count of the ſeveral places at which he ſtopped; I mean neither to be a journaliſt, nor a travel-writer, but ſhall relate only the principal adven⯑tures of his life, and the extraordi⯑nary characters he met with. Upon this plan I ſhall only ſay, that [13]getting letters of recommendation into the North, as a gentleman up⯑on his travels, he made the beſt of his way into the Highlands, and was well received at the houſe of Mr. Campbell, a Laird of a Clan, in that part of the world. This gen⯑tleman's family conſiſted of his wife and daughter, and a young lady a niece of Mrs. Campbell's, the daugh⯑ter of Mr. Raſpe, a Liverpool mer⯑chant, a little hot-headed, impetuous man, who had a brother ſettled in London, and who having been knighted, increaſed the jealouſy of this old man beyond conception; he had amaſſed a large fortune in the Slave-Trade, and having an only child, this [14]Miſs Raſpe, his fooliſh plan was, to marry her, if poſſible, to a Lord, and thus out-do his brother in point of ideal conſequence; to this end he deprived himſelf almoſt of the neceſ⯑ſaries of life, to add to his capital; and leſt his daughter, a fine girl, ſhould pick up a huſband of her own, and thus baffle his expectations, he placed her, from the age of thir⯑teen, under the care of his ſiſter, married to this Mr. Campbell, deter⯑mining to keep her there, as it were, out of the world, till ſhe was of a mar⯑riageable age. In the houſe of Mr. Campbell, the Colonel was very well received, and on account of Miſs Raſpe, for whom he conceived a [15]liking, and whoſe fortune led further to an attachment, he was induced to make a longer ſtay with the family than he at firſt intended.

It is not to be wondered at, that Miſs Raſpe, though immured in the cold regions of the North, ſhould at her time of life, then juſt ſixteen, feel a glow in her breaſt, at the many fine ſentiments Cold. Ramble was capable of uttering, and become enamoured with what ſhe heard from ſo handſome a man. He addreſſed her with all the warmth of a lover, and all the animation of a ſoldier, and though his opportunities were but few, he availed himſelf of them, [16]and he being the firſt ſaſhlonable man ſhe had ſeen, ſhe became pre⯑ſently in love with him.

There was nothing in the cha⯑racter of Miſs Raſpe ſingular or worth remarking; it is ſufficient to ſay, ſhe was a girl of ſpirit, of fine figure, had a pleaſing face, and was altogether an object of admiration. It was neceſſary to conceal their liking for each other, her father having ac⯑quainted his ſiſter with his deſign, and all they could do was to plan how they ſhould meet each other in future. Mrs. Campbell was as watch⯑ful as an Argus, but the Colonel found means to ſettle the buſineſs [17]through Flint, who was as induſtrious and cautious as a ſpy.

Scarce had he made his entrée at Mr. Campbell's houſe, than he was waited on by Mr. Macanochy, a Scotch Prieſt, the Miniſter of the pariſh, one of thoſe officious men who are always in our way, and who came now to welcome the Colonel to Fochabar, that being the name of the pariſh.

The Colonel had, by means of his ſervant Flint, juſt received a letter from Miſs Raſpe, which he was kiſſing with fervency when Macanochy entered the room without any intro⯑duction, [18] ‘In gude troth Sir, you ſeem, (ſaid he) if my eyne dinna deceive me, to be mair in love with that lettre, than ony bra lad of the Highlands I hae yet ſeen, wi his bonnie laſſie.’ ‘Indeed, replied the Colonel, I am; it is from the deareſt friend I have, and I am impatient to read its contents,’

‘Dinana let me interrupt you then, (ſaid Macanochy) dinna let me in⯑terrupt you.’ Here he took ſome ſnuff with his right hand, from the left hand pocket of his waiſtcoat, which was full of it, and filling his noſe, ſcattering it plentifully down his boſom, the Colonel took this [19]opportunity of opening the letter. Scarce had he paſſed his eye over the firſt line, but Macanochy drew up cloſe along ſide of him, and tapped him on the ſleeve with ‘an ye be a freend of the Campbell faa⯑malie, youre cum in a loocky our; for we are t hae a muſter of the Clan in the morning;’ but obſerving the Colonel impatient to read his letter adds, ‘dinna let me interrupt ye, maun; dinna let me interrupt ye;’ (and takes another pinch) but ſcarce had the Colonel read another line, but he approaches him as before with, ‘I am bold to ſay, we muſter mair men in Focha⯑bar, than in ony paariſh in aw the [20]Highlands.’ I beg your pardon, replied the Colonel, with a degree of mortification, ‘I ſhall be happy to hear your ſtory, and ſee your muſter, at any other time; but this letter requires an immediate an⯑ſwer, and I hope you will excuſe me.’ ‘In Gode's name (replies Macanochy) dinna let me interrupt ye; gang awa, read your letter, and anſwer it.’ At this moment Flint entered the room, as upon ſome buſineſs, and the Colonel took that opportunity of leaving it, ſaying to Flint as he paſſed, don't let him fol⯑low me. Flint ſeeing Macanochy going after his maſter, ſhouldered his ſtick, and placing himſelf againſt [21]the door as a centinel, cried out aloud, ‘who goes there; who are you; where do you come from; where are you going?’ I muſt not omit here to notice, that Flint, though he did not wear a uniform, was dreſſed ſomething like a ſoldier; he wore a kind of travelling fur-cap, with a cockade in it, a ſhort jacket, and a pair of gaters. Macanochy was almoſt as ſtrange a figure; a man upwards of fifty, of a ſallow complexion, and ſo highly characteriſ⯑tic of his country were his cheek⯑bones, that it was doubtful whether he had the right uſe of his eyes, which ſeemed full of ſuſpicion; of ſnuff he appeared a monopolizer, the [22]left hand pocket of his waiſtcoat (as I have obſerved) was full of it, and the line from that to his noſe totally covered with it; he was dreſſed in a ruſty, black coat, and a ſlouched hat. Flint knew not what to make of him, but was determined to obey his maſter's orders; Macanochy, finding himſelf repulſed, drew back with ſur⯑prize; for though he was mean and ſhabby in appearance, he was not wanting in national pride. Indeed the ancient pride of the Clans was ſo great, that a late Duke of Argyle, whoſe name was Campbell, and who uſed to treat his tenantry as the greateſt vaſſals, rid⯑ing up to a gate, near which ſat read⯑ing, a ſon of one of his tenants, lately [23]returned from abroad, would not deign to ſpeak to him, but pointed to the gate, and made a ſign to him to open it. The man took no notice of this, but conti⯑nued reading. The Duke made a ſe⯑cond ſignal to the ſame end, and finding it unattended to, cried with an imperious tone of voice. ‘D—m you fellow, why dinna you open the yate? dinna you kenme? Open it.’ "Na na," retorts the other— "I am a Campbell myſel." But to return to my ſtory, Macanochy finding himſelf repulſed by Flint, ſtarted back with ſurpaize. ‘An ye dinna ken Meſs John Macanochy,’ ſaid he, ‘I maun tell ye freend, that I am Minniſter of the paariſh, and am to be treated with unco [24]reſpect.’ "A centinel," cries Flint, ‘at an out-poſt, knows no reſpect of parſons; if you were king, honey, of the pariſh, you could not paſs this way without the watch-word.’

‘In gude troth, (returns Macano⯑chy) if we are to aſk queſtions; in the name of St. Andrew, who, and what are you?’ ‘In the name of St. Patrick, (retorts Flint) a ſoldier, and on duty, not to be corrupted.’ Macanochy's patience now gave way, he laid hold of Flint's cuff, and en⯑deavoured to pull him aſide; but Flint ſhoved him back and preſent⯑ing his ſtaff at him, cryed with a vocſiferous voice, ‘keep your diſtance, [25]or I will run my bayonet through you.’

Macanochy, finding a paſſage that way impracticable, replyed with a little more coolneſs, and comforting himſelf with a favorite pinch: ‘though your profeſſion cheild is war, mine is peace; if I canna paſs ane way, I will anither; we wonna wrangle about it, but ſtay ye there in Gode's name, and diſcharge your duty;’ and went out at another door.

CHAP. III.

THE arrival of Mr. Raſpe was now announced in the family: hearing that a certain Engliſh nobleman had placed his ſon at Florence, under the idea of improvement, but in fact with a deſign to keep him there till his boyiſh days were over, that he might make no improper attachment;—Mr. Raſpe un⯑derſtanding this, determined to take his daughter to Florence, to throw her in [27]the way of this young nobleman; hoping to captivate him in a place where Eng⯑liſh beauties and good fortunes were rare. With this view he ſet out for Scotland to fetch his daughter, and unluckily for all the parties, arrived at Campbell Hall, whilſt my friend Will was there.

This arrival, unexpected and unfore⯑ſeen, diſconcerted the young folks ex⯑ceedingly; the old man alarmed at the appearance of a red coat, in a place, where he ſo little expected it, and dread⯑ing, as well he might, that it would tend to an abortion of his ſcheme; had ſcarce ſet his foot in the houſe, but he attack⯑ed his ſiſter in the following manner: ‘So, ſiſter, you have done a pretty job [28]for me; you are a fine one to truſt to, how I could rely upon a woman I don't know. I placed my daughter, my only child, under your care, your damned care, and prettily I am like to ſmart for it.’ ‘My good bro⯑ther, (returns ſhe) what is the matter, what puts you out of temper?’

‘Matter enough, (retorts he waſ⯑piſhly) have not I ſunk all my hopes in that girl? Have I not relied on your care and good management? And pretty magagement it is! I did, ſiſter, hope, by ſending her to you, that ſhe would be out of all danger; free from the ſnares that are ever laid for a good fortune, and that the time would [29]come, when I ſhould find her an honour and a credit to me. But inſtead of this, you have admitted, nay introduced, a trumpery red-coated ſcoundrel to her, and cannot even anſwer for her affections not being gone.’ ‘In⯑deed, brother, you are too ſoon alarm⯑ed, (anſwered Mrs. Campbell) the Colonel has been a very ſhort time here, and it is uncertain whether he will ſtay fix hours.’ ‘Six hours! (retorts he) I hate theſe lobſtering fellows. I wiſh I had him at Bonny, aboard one of my Guinea ſhips, I would ſoon tranſ⯑port him to the Weſt Indies. They are as inſidious as rattle⯑ſnakes, [30]and like them, carry their venom in their tails, Six hours! — I would not truſt her with him ſix minutes; he would poiſon her in half the time." I am ſurpriſed (ſays Mrs. Campbell) you can ſpeak ſo diſreſpect⯑fully of perſons of condition; your haſty ways bring you little comfort, and much leſs credit; the Colonel is a man of the higheſt honour and character, and you do him a great deal of injuſtice.’

Raſpe, ſomewhat matched, and ſomewhat modulated peeviſhly told his ſiſter, there was little either of character or honour that buzzed round [31]a pretty girl, much more one with a good fortune; and let the Colo⯑nel be ever ſo honouralbe, or ever ſo proper a man in her opinion, he would take good care to fruſtrate her intentions. ‘Indeed, brother, (ſaid ſhe) your troubles are imaginary, and if you will be filly enough to liſten to every idle report that is brought you, you may have troubles indeed. The Colonel has no ſuch thought, I am ſure; and if you will as readily believe me as you do others, you will find there is no foundation in any thing you have heard.’

This ſpeech of Mrs. Campbell's, [32]though it produced a very different emotion in the mind of her brother, did not produce a very different ef⯑fect; for his natural violence made it⯑ſelf as uſeful to him as it could, on all occaſions; for when pleaſed he was as loud as when angry.

How, how! (retorts he, with a forced laugh) no foundation! I am glad of that, glad indeed; it ſhall be may fualt then if he lays the firſt ſtone.

To prevent any further altercation ſhe left him, and no ſooner was ſhe gone, than he was ſuddenly accoſted by Macanochy, who came bowing [33]low into the room, as he advanced, plying his noſtrils alternately with ſnuff, from the ball of his thumb, thus producing an attitude truly ridiculous.

Having given my readers the figure of this man, to ſhew them the contraſt, it is proper I ſhould give them ſome deſcription of Raſpe. He was of a low ſtature, reduced by the fever of his fret⯑ful brain, to a moſt abject ſtate of pro⯑portion, which the number of his years only ſerved to heighten. When he thought proper to dreſs himſelf, (one of nature's greateſt curioſities) it was not vanity, but from an idea, that it was neceſſary to preſerve every thing from ruſt; therefore an occaſional rub, and [34]covering up, was his ſubſtitute for de⯑coration. He wore a ſcratch wig, his hat was of Oliverian mould, and his coat without a collar, long in the waiſt, ſhort in the ſkirts, was of a colour, beſt ſuited to hide the defects of age, and orna⯑mented with a double row of angular buttons.

Macanochy, on approaching Raſpe, thus addreſſed him: ‘As an intimate freend of the Campbell family, I tak the liberty of introducing myſel to you; we have been lang expect⯑ing you; you are dootleſs enchanted with the improvement and elegance of your daughter;—oh! ſhe's a bonny laſſie.’—‘Sir, (retorts Raſpe, with [35]impatience) you break in upon me, when my mind is too diſturbed to’....‘Patience, my gude sir, (ſays Macanochy, interrupting him, and tapping him on the elbow) is a ver⯑tue, and its oppoſite maun be a veece. It is an unco peety, therefore, you ſhould be impatient, when patience would anſwer a muckle better end; (and taking another darling pinch) patience has made more conqueſts than many armies;—patience has got the better of the greateſt tyrants;— patience....’

Raſpe, ſick of this long ſtory of a virtue he had ſo little in himſelf, and not being in the moſt agreeable mood, [36]replyed, ‘I ſuppoſe you mean to try my patience—I will have no experi⯑ments made on me—I preſume you are a parſon, by your preaching?’ ‘You are unco rieht, Sir, returned Macano⯑chy; I am minniſter of the goſpel in this pariſh, my name is Macanochy, my father and grandfather, have been minniſters of Fochabar, ſince the year 1701. I hate mony words, or I could tell ye, we can trace our family as far back, as when the great Huntly defeated’....Raſpe was the laſt per⯑ſon the miniſter ſhould have fixed on, to have amuſed with ſuch long ſtories; his mind was better ſuited, even in his good humours, to few words, and at a time he was ready to burſt with appre⯑henſions [37]from the Colonel, to be inter⯑rupted with ſuch a tireſome old fellow, was enough to turn his brain, he once more therefore ſaid to Macanochy, ‘I want none of your chronology; I hate hiſtory; I don't like my own; but if you know what brought the Colonel here, ſay it.’ ‘Sure aneugh, (ſays Macano⯑chy,) I ken the Colonel, and the Colo⯑nel kens me; there is not a bairn in aw the Highlands, that does not ken the Reverend Mr. Macanochy, of Fochabar, (ſtrutting about and taking ſnuff) the Colonel is a diſtant freend, of a Laird of a neighbouring clan, who had an uncle, a Major in India, who performed great wonders; (counting his family on his fingers) [38]he had another relation on his mither's ſide, an Admiral, who ſignalized him⯑ſel in mony great atchievements.’ —‘What of all this? (retorts Raſpe, angrily interrupting him) How came he here?’ ‘Why maun, (conti⯑nued Macanochy, with a determined coolneſs) you put me oot. He has a keuſin married to Lord Gramont, a very gude lady. I could ſay mony fine things of her, but I am a maun, like yourſel, of few words. He has another keuſin married to Sir Archi⯑bald M'Donald, of Ochiltree, who, in the year one thouſand ſeven hundred and ſeventy’....‘I told you, be⯑fore, (ſaid Raſpe, with ſtill greater impatience) I want no chronology, [39]and hate all hiſtory, but that of negro-land. What brought the Co⯑lonel here?’—‘The Colonel (ſays Macanochy) is a haundſome, gallant fallow; every ſaul here loves him weel, maun, women, and bairns.’ Raſpe not being able to bear his prolixity any longer, loſt his temper, and ſtamped about the room; Macanochy to make him ſtill more angry, ſaid, with a de⯑gree of contemptuous coolneſs. ‘If your ſheine offend you, tak them off.’ "Every body in love with him!" re⯑turns Raſpe with eagerneſs. ‘Every body, (replies Macanochy) and I will tell you ſomething that will make you very happy—he loves your daughter, and your daughter loves him.’ [40]Raſpe could no longer contain himſelf, and this laſt declaration of the paſſive prieſt maddened him; he flew, he kicked, he ſtamped abut like one frantic, and left Macanochy ſtupified with amaze⯑ment.

CHAP. IV.

RASPE was determined to take away his daughter the next morning, and nothing his ſiſter could ſay, though ſhe told him the Colonel was either going or gone, anſwered any purpoſe; he would not ſtay in a houſe ſo unfriendly to his [41]wiſhes; indeed he had no reaſon to diſ⯑pute his ſiſter's veracity, and when ſhe brought him word, that the Colonel had left the houſe, he began to believe it; but an ill-fated accident overthrew the whole, and determined him to quit the place that very night. It happened that Mr. Raſpe was lodged in the next room to Miſs Campbell, divided only by a partition, in which there was a door of communication between the two rooms; in Miſs Campbell's room, the young couple had occaſionally met, and having ſettled the plan of future operations, the Colonel was juſt come there to take his leave of Miſs Raſpe, when her father had juſt entered the next room, in order to take off his boots; his ſiſter was with him, [42]reaſoning on the abſurdity of his taking the matter up ſo ſeriouſly, and paying them ſo ſhort a viſit—his ſervant, a black, whom he had ever treated with great ſeverity, was employed in draw⯑ing off one of his maſter's boots, as he fat in the chair, before the door that opened into Miſs Campbell's apart⯑ment, and Mrs. Campbell was, juſt then, aſſuring him the Colonel was gone, imagining that really to have been the caſe— ‘Gone, or not gone, (cries he with a loud voice) I will ſtay no longer than to-morrow;’ and then, to his ſlave—‘Raſcal, why don't you pull the boot with more force—pull you dog, or I will be the death of you.’ At that inſtant Miſs Campbell was peeping [43]though the key-hole of the inner room, ſaying, Mr. Raſpe was in a monſtrous paſſion, and the Colonel was taking his leave of Miſs Raſpe, and upon his knee, kiſſing her hand with the utmoſt fer⯑vency; when the poor black, pulling the boot with more than ordinary exertion, it ſlipped unexpectedly off, and loſing his equilibrium, fell back violently againſt the door, burſt it open, threw Miſs Campbell upon her back, and diſ⯑covered the Colonel kiſſing Miſs Raſpe's hand.

Reader, if thou can'ſt paint to thy⯑ſelf the ſituation of all the parties; if thou can'ſt picture in thy fancy the diſappointment, the mortifica⯑tion, [44]of every one preſent; if thou can'ſt read, in the proud looks of Mrs. Campbell, the confuſion of being caught in a lie; (though an innocent one) if thou can'ſt feel for the diſaſtrous ſitua⯑tion of Miſs Campbell, who was thrown almoſt heels over head; if thou can'ſt pity the diſcovery of the young couple's evident declaration of love; if thou can'ſt carry in thy mind, the horror of the black, ſcrambling to get up, and diſplaying his large white eyes and teeth, grinning with a ghaſtly dread of the ven⯑geance of his maſter; if thou can'ſt have any conception of a wrathful old man, panic-ſtruck, and rendered mo⯑tionleſs by ſurprize and anger, thou wilt be able to form ſome idea of the condi⯑tion [45]of the parties preſent. It was ſome moments, before either of them could recover from their ſituation. Raſpe ſtuck faſt in his chair; the Colonel ri⯑veted on his knee, Miſs Raſpe's hand ſtill in his; Miſs Campbell ſprawling on the floor; Mrs. Campbell fixed as a ſtatue; and the poor black trembling as for life; Raſpe's eye fixed upon his ſiſter's; and his ſiſter's on his, ſeeming to upbraid each other; the Colonel and Miſs with their's fixed on the ground; paint this in your mind, and thou wilt view the ſcene as it was. Raſpe ſpringing from his chair, flew at his daughter, and ſeizing her by the arm, broke this awful ſilence, with a, ‘Come Miſs Mum, I will not loſe ſight of you [46]again, we will be off to night.’ To Miſs Campbell, he ſaid, I am much obliged to you for your attention to my daughter; to the Colonel, ‘I appre⯑hend you have loſt a recruit;’ to his ſiſter, ſneeringly, and imitating her manner of expreſſing herſelf to him: ‘the Colonel is a man of honour! damn his honour—no ſuch intention! no foundation! Hell, fire, and furies!’ and thus he left them.

The Colonel, though a man of ſpirit, felt the aukwardneſs of his ſituation, pitied the temper of the old man, was ſorry for the diſturbance he had occa⯑ſioned, and leſt any thing he might ſay, [47]or any apologies he could make, might only exaſperate the more, and render their meeting in future more difficult, thought it beſt to be ſilent.

Raſpe now began to prepare for his immediate departure, as did the Colonel for his, the next morning; but the arrangement, &c. of Miſs Raſpe and other matters, took up the whole of the evening; and there was very little likelihood of their getting away before break of day. Raſpe, however, determining not to ſleep ano⯑ther night in the houſe, was buſy in preparing for his journey.

The incidents of the day entirely [48]diſcompoſed the family, nor could they ſit down to any regular ſupper. Mr. Campbell, an infirm old man, had retired to his bed, and Maca⯑nochy, whoſe ſpirit of quietiſm no⯑thing could diſorder, who felt him⯑ſelf at home in whatever houſe of the pariſh he was in, had got a ſnack in the larder regaled himſelf alone with a pinch of ſnuff, and a bottle of ale, and ſtole away to his cloſet, where he was accuſtomed to ſleep when at this houſe. This was unknown to any of the family, who imagined he was gone; indeed, go to what houſe he would, he always took his night⯑cap in his pocket. This cloſet was a receſs, behind the partition of one [49]of the rooms, juſt large enough to hold a bed, as is the cuſtom in Scot⯑land, and the ſliding wainſcot was ſo contrived, as to cloſe and ſhut it in.

Mr. Raſpe was jarring with his ſiſter the whole night, and would every now and then break out into ſuch fits of rage, as to diſturb the ſleepers. Mr. Campbell, who had ſcarcely had his firſt nap, jumped out of bed during one of theſe noiſes, half aſleep and half awake, not conceiv⯑ing what it could be: he ſlipt on his night-gown, took up his candle, and the noiſe increaſing, ſalled forth from his chamber, and meeting with Flint at the head of the ſtairs: "Good [50]Mr. Corporal (ſaid he) what is the matter?" ‘O', my conſcience, (ſays Flint,) matter enough; the enemy is ſtorming the fort, and we ſhall be all in a blaze preſently.’

This frightened Mr. Campbell more than ever, and he begged of the Cor⯑poral to conduct him down ſtairs. Flint took the candle and marched in the van, the old gentleman fol⯑lowed cloſe in the rear; and as he conducted him, they paſſed through the room where Macanochy was clo⯑ſeted; but this being in a diſtant part of the houſe, the prieſt was not ſo much diſturbed; they no ſooner how⯑ever, reached this room, that another [51]violent noiſe was heard, with a great clattering and ringing of bells. ‘Lord, Lord,’ (cries Mr. Campbell) what a "racket!" ‘By my fait (replies Flint,) I like this glorious rattling; it puts me in mind of the ſtorming of Trin⯑comalee, when the bombs flew over our heads like hail-ſtones.’—‘Oh! it was a joyous day your honour, and I never ſhall forget it.’ More noiſe being heard, Mr. Campbell begged of the Corporal to go and learn the occaſion of it, and ſend up one of his ſervants. Being now left to him⯑ſelf, with the candle in his hand, and the noiſe increaſing, he got up to the further end of the room, near the cloſet, where Macanochy was in [52]bed, who, the noiſe having alarmed him, drew back the ſliding partition ſuddenly, and ſitting bolt upright, ter⯑rified poor Mr. Campbell, who little imagined he was there.

I muſt here again repreſent to my reader, as I have before done, the oddity of this ſcene: deſcribe to yourſelf, a trembling old man, with a lighted taper in his hand, in a flannel night-gown, and a white cap; and his face, through fear, as colourleſs as his cap, quaking as he ſtood, imagining it was a ghoſt in the cloſet; and, macanochy, with a ſnuffy face, and a dirty night cap, tied under his chin, ſtarting alſo with ſurprize, at ſeeing Mr. Campbell, who he little [53]expected to ſee, and whom, between ſleeping and waking, he conceived like⯑wiſe to be an apparition: I ſay picture this to your imagination, and you muſt ſmile at the ſcene: theſe two ghaſtly perſonages, gazed for a moment in ſilence on each other, with horror.

Macanochy broke it with, ‘Minniſ⯑ters of grace defend me! Be ye a gob⯑lin!’—‘No, (ſays his fellow ghoſt) I am no goblin, Mr. Macanochy, I am Mr. Campbell.’ ‘If you are no gob⯑lin, (replies the prieſt) how came you here, in all this ſtorm?’ And on Mr. Camphell's telling him, he did not know he ſtept there, Macanochy continued, ‘Sleep is out of the queſtion, it is im⯑poſſible [54]to ſleep in ſuch a hurricane; eats ſcreaming, women bawling, that old chield ſtamping, bells ringing, bag⯑pipes blowing; and above aw, (ſhrug⯑ging his ſhoulders) the troop of little black gentry, that infeit this cloſet, and wha hae fund their way over me, as did the Lilliputians over Gulliver, as he lay on the graſs. By St. Andrew, (ſhaking himſelf) the wee-wee deels gnaw and devour me, as if I was a loſt creature, given up to their tor⯑ments;—but what is aw this freſh noiſe aboot?’

A ſervant, who at that moment en⯑tered, and who had not got rightly at the ſtory, reported, that Colonel Ramble [55]had been caught with Miſs Raſpe, and that there was the duce to pay about it; theſe words were no ſooner uttered, than Macanochy gathered the blanket about him, jumped out of bed, and running up to the ſervant with ſurprize, cried out, ‘Catched together! ſay you? It is a muckle peety, they had not my benediction firſt!’ and, on being aſked by Mr. Campbell, what good that would have done? added, ‘wonderful gude; it is a ceremony that trans⯑forms veece into virture, and makes that innocent, which, without it, is held as criminal. Had they ſent for me, I would hae ſet aw to rights.’

his oinion of Macanochy's, aroſe [56]from his miſunderſtanding the ſervant, who upon explaining himſelf, and ſay⯑ing, by being caught together, he meant only to ſay, they were ſeen in company together; and that Mr. Raſpe on finding it flew into a violent paſſion, Macanochy conſoled himſelf with ‘If that be aw, there is nae harm dune— aws weel yet.’

More noiſe being now heard, he went on— ‘the ſtorm is gathering again, I'll to my bed—Satan, I defy ye?’ and drawing too the ſlider of his cloſet, ſhut himſelf up, and left Mr. Campbell to make the beſt of his way to his chamber.

[57]We here ſee, in the character of Macanochy, the weakneſs and ridicu⯑louſneſs of thoſe who are fond of talking themſelves, but who diſlike it in others. he wiſhed to be thought a man of few words, and yet was loquacious in the extreme; we meet with ſuch men in the world, and their character is truly laughable; they are ſo full of what they have to ſay themſelves, that they can attend to no reply, and though by this they may think to render themſelves agreeable, they become tireſome beyond meaſure; and there is ſcare a man they talk to, but like the Colonel, would be glad to fly from them. Conſcious of this, the long talker will hold you by the [58]button, leſt you ſhould eſcape before you have heard him out.

Theſe were my friend's remarks, on the men he met with abroad. So again in the character of Raſpe. We readily ſee defects abroad, which we are blind to at home, and are eager to condemn in others, what we can reconcile to our⯑ſelves, where our intereſt leads. Raſpe condemned his ſiſter, from an opinion, that the introduced the Colonel to his daughter; when, at the very time, he was conveying his daughter to Florence, with a ſimilar view.

CHAP. V.

MR. Raſpe ſet off with his daughter at day break on his journey, he purpoſed to take Liverpool in his way, continue there a few weeks, till he had adjuſted his buſineſs, and then proceed on his route to London, where he would continue ſome time, till he had equipped his daughter with ſuch neceſſaries, as would ſet her off to the beſt advantage at Florence: the [60]Colonel did not continue at Mr. Campbell's long after them; he ſat off the morning following, but had planned it, with Miſs Raſpe, that, as he ſhould naturally be in town ſome weeks before her, ſhe ſhould, on her arrival, make him immediately ac⯑quainted with it.

On reaching London (for his at⯑tachment to Miſs Raſpe, had quite changed his plan of proceedings) he put up at one of thoſe faſhionable houſes, called Hotels, but where there was a common room of aſſem⯑bling at meals, as at Bath. He had ſcarce ſet his foot in this Houſe, but he met with an old Devonſhire friend, [61]Charles Simple. This young gentle⯑man with his ſiſter, was reduced to the neceſſity, upon the death of their parents, to live upon the patrimony of between two and three hundred pounds per year.

The father was poſſeſſed of as many thouſands, but having lived (as do the generality of faſhionable men) in a ſtyle ſuperior to his income; the conſequence was, he brought up his ſon and daughter with high no⯑tions of gentility, diſſipated his for⯑tune, and left them little or nothing to ſuport it, Charles, was a young man full of ſimplicity, and very ea⯑ſily led, but his ſiſter, on the con⯑trary, [62]was artful, intriguing, talka⯑tive, and obſtinate; ſhe had ſuch a volubility of tongue, that no rattle could equal. Like Macanochy, the Scotch Miniſter, ſhe was full of herſelf, fond of the ſound of her own voice, and could ſuffer no reply; but ſhe had not that ſang froid about her that he poſſeſſed; ſhe was all fire and ſpirit. She was a few years older than her brother, and made him believe ſhe had a ſu⯑perior knowledge; told him, that if he would follow her directions, that, as he was a handſome fellow, and had re⯑ceived a good education, ſhe would put him in the way of making his fortune; that as their connections were in general good, and London was [63]the centre, where they would pro⯑bably meet, ſhe adviſed making up a ſum of money in the beſt way they could, ſetting off for London, there trying their fortune, and truſting to the chapter of accidents.

They had been ſome time, with this view, living in ſtyle, at this hotel, and had not only ſpent the money they had brought with them, but had run a debt that great⯑ly embarraſſed them. This was their ſituation, when my friend Will. Ram⯑ble met with them. ‘God bleſs my ſoul, Charles, (ſaid he) I ſhould as ſoon have expected to have ſeen the equeſtrian ſtate, at [64]Charing-Croſs, travelling through Taunton, as to have met with you in London; ſo ſtationary did I think you. — What, in the name of fortune, brought you here?’ ‘My romantic ſiſter, (replyed he,)—you may well compare me to that ſtatue at Charing-Croſs; I am merely a figure, and ſhe moves me where ſhe pleaſes; I wiſh I had as little feeling and ſenſibility; it would be happy for me.’—‘Why you ſeem to be out of ſpirits (ſays the Colo⯑nel) what is the matter?’ ‘Matter! (returns Charles, holding up a par⯑cel of bills)—here's the cauſe of my diſquiet; we have not been here two months, and here are bills to the [65]amount of £270. without £50. to pay them.’

‘Its all a myſtery to me (ſays Ramble) come unravel it.’ ‘My mad ſiſter (anſwered Charles) to whoſe fanciful ſchemes I have ever been the dupe, took it into her head to bring me to London, in order to make my fortune.—You know, Colonel, how inadequate my little eſtate in Devonſhire is, and the trifle my father left us, for ſuch an undertaking; but ſo it is, come ſhe would, and I have been fool enough to follow her’—at this in⯑ſtant, Miſs Simple joined them, and, addreſſing the Colonel, ſaid, ſhe ſup⯑poſed [66]her brother, with his long face, had been telling him ſome diſmal ſtory; and, on Ramble's ſaying he had been telling him of his embar⯑raſſment, ſhe replied with haſte, ‘I wont hear a word; his embarraſſ⯑ments are all ideal; bug-bears of his own fancy; had he taken my advice, he might now have been in the firſt ſituation; but he's ſo full of his ifs and his buts, and his this and that and t'other, that I loſe all patience when I talk to him. I brought him here to make a man of him; but his reaſons, as he calls them, (ſneer⯑ing) his ſcruples, and his qualms of conſcience, have diſconcerted all my meaſures; the wiſeſt ſchemes; the beſt [67]laid plans.’...The Colonel was will⯑ing to ſoften her patience with a ‘you'll certainly allow,’...ſhe (interrupting him) ſaid ‘I will allow nothing—I when I am right; I never propoſe a thing to him, but he im⯑mediately interrupts me, and over⯑turns all, with his can'ts, and all the reſt of his ſilly objections—I can't marry an old woman—I can't riſk a duel to run off with a girl.—I can't run in debt—I can't cheat at cards— I can't drink—I can't ſwear—I can't lie;—in ſhort, he can do nothing as men of faſhion do. I don't know what will become of him, and all—’

‘Hold, hold,’ (ſays the Colonel) the ‘[68]world is not bad’—‘No badneſs in the caſe (returns ſhe,) Can £40,000 be a bad lot, though an old woman with her decayed furniture ſhould be thrown into it? — Can a prick of an arm be a bad thing, when a fine girl is by to ſuck the would?—Can a few debts be a bad thing, when debts now ſtamp the man of faſhion, and diſtinguiſh him from the vulgar? —Can...’ ‘I'll appeal to the Colonel (ſays Charles)...’ ‘I'll appeal to no one (retorts ſhe)—I know I am in the right.’ ‘Indeed, Charles,’ (inter⯑rupts the Colonel) ‘the women are al⯑ways in the right, and the leſs we ſay the better.’ ‘So I have always told him, (adds Miſs Simple,) now only hear, [69]Colonel, what I have propoſed; I would firſt have had him ſtood for a neighbouring borough—No, ſays he, the county is overſtocked with mem⯑bers of Parliament; beſides, was I ever choſen, I have no eloquence to recom⯑mend me, Eloquence, nonſenſe ſay I, eloquence, is the only thing that would hurt him.—You know, Colo⯑nel, the miniſter wants nobody to talk but himſelf; it is your dumb orators he wants; men whoſe arguments are all comprized in the monoſyllables, aye and no.’

‘Between you and I, Charles, (ſays the Col.) there is too much truth in this obſervation’—‘In ſhort, Sir, (replies [70]Miſs Simple), all his objections are viſionary’—(Charles ſhewing her the bills exclaimed) ‘theſe are not viſion⯑ary, ſiſter; theſe are realities that muſt be attend to;’ but ſhe ſnatching them out of his hand, tearing them and cram⯑ming them into her pocket, (cried) ‘pſha, nonſenſe; a man of ſpirit would think nothing of a thouſand of them. People of faſhion will have as many in a ſhort time as will hang their walls, and paſs them with as little notice as a parcel of old viſiting cards, behind a glaſs, when the viſits are paid.’

This ſaid, ſhe left him in a pet.

CHAP. VI.

MISS Simple being gone, the gentle⯑men were more at liberty to talk the matter over, and Charles gave my friend Will. ſome account of an applica⯑tion he had made to a money-lending Jew. Charles had a good heart, always felt for the diſtreſſes of a friend, and was the more ſurpriſed, when he found a contrary diſpoſition in others. Whilſt he had a guinea more than the preſſing occaſion of the moment called for, he [72]was ever ready to accommodate a friend with the loan of it. Ramble had as good a heart, and this fellow-feeling of⯑ten brought them both into difficulties. I never yet, ſaid Charles, found any of thoſe grateful returns, Colonel, which you have ſo often dinged in my ears. We often meet with acquaintance ready to aſſiſt us when we ſtand in no need of it; but no one more backward, when we have recourſe to them: nay, they will deſert us when we can no lon⯑ger entertain them; like inſects they buz and flutter in the ſun-ſhine of proſ⯑perity, but fall off like leaves at the ap⯑proach of winter. My friend Will. could not; but acquieſce in theſe ſentiments he had ſeen but little of the world, but [73]ſtill had met with this ingratitude. However he enlivens the converſation. Charles related his interview with the Jew he had mentioned. I had, ſaid he, an occaſion to apply to this man, for a few hundreds, once before, and having regularly paid him the in⯑tereſt, concluded I ſhould meet with little difficulty in getting from him the loan of 500l. more. But, added he, had you ſeen the long face he made on his introduction, you would have ſworn he thought I as going to borrow money of him without intereſt. "Mor⯑decai, ſaid I, I am in want of 500l. for twelve months, can you lend it to me?" On vat ſecurity? (returned he.) I an⯑ſwered him, my own bond. Bonds, [74]replied he, are poor ſecurities, when gentlemen plead their inability to give them, and of courſe are of no validity. ‘It waſh but de oder day, I lent Sir Michael Spendthrift 1500l. on his bond and ſhudgment, and when I called on him for de intereſhd, he told me he waſh under age, when he gave the bond, and I am no Chriſtian; if I did not take him, by the hardneſs of his features, to be forty years old! I never was more deſheeved in all my loife.’ I told him he ſhould not be ſo taken in by me, for I would produce him a pariſh-certificate of my age. His anſwer was: ‘Pariſhes are as deſheetful as pariſhioners. I have no reliance on Chriſtians, or Chriſtian pariſhes. I [75]had rather have a good eſhtate in my hands, than an Eaſt-India bond of double the value."—"But I have had money of you before, my dear Mor⯑dical, (ſaid I) and why be ſo par⯑ticular now?’ "So moſh the worſe," (retorted he), ‘the more a man owes, the leſs able he is to pay; and I al⯑ways make it a rule in lending money upon perſhonal ſecurity, to demand a larger premium for a ſecond loan than the firſt; the riſhk being greater. If we lend a thouſand pounds for a premium of 100l. we alwaſh expect 200l. for the ſecond thouſand, and ſo in proportion. If you will give me a good mortgage at 5 per cent and thus cover the 300l. you have had; I [76]will lend you this 500l. for a premium of 10 per cent. and a very good bargain you will have; for money is now very ſcarſh, and I ſhould not know where to borrow a thouſand myſelf, If I wanted it.’ It was in vain to reaſon this fellow into moderation, or argue with him againſt his own intereſt; I therefore gave the matter up, for not having yet mortgaged my little patri⯑mony, I will not do it, if I can help it. ‘Then you ſhall help it now, (ſaid my friend Will,) for though I am ſhort of caſh, as I muſt borrow a ſum for my⯑ſelf, I may as well borrow a little more for you. I have a ſecurity or two, which my father left, independent of his eſtate, and it may as well ſtand [77]reſponſible for your's as for mine:’ ‘I thank you, my good friend, (replied Charles,) but I cannot think of it; af⯑ter what I have ſaid, it would be like begging the money.’ ‘Tuſh, (re⯑plies Will, ſmiling) your ſiſter will find out ſome new ſcheme of remak⯑ing your fortune, and then you may return it. But, joking aſide, if you ne⯑ver pay, I ſhall never aſk it. The ſum I lend you I ſhall conſider as ſpent, and will be more frugal in conſequence. I loved your father, and I am ſure you have a good heart; and if a man who has money, will not retrench a little, to be of uſe to mankind, and not occaſionally part with a little, to do a friendly and a generous action, his mo⯑ney [78]is of little uſe to him, and he lives to little purpoſe.’ The Colonel pro⯑miſed to ſee him in a few days, and accordingly left him.

Charles now returned to his ſiſter, who had a new ſcheme in her head, and was eager to communicate it, and not having told her of the Colonel's promiſe, ſhe attacked him with ‘There is, brother, now but one reſource left us,—neck or nothing—you muſt go off with the landlord's daughter.’

The maſter of the Hotel knew little but the art getting money, and of that he had amaſſed a conſiderable for⯑tune; in other reſpects he was exceeding⯑ly [79]weak, his name was Whip. He had an only child a daughter, as ſilly and weak as himſelf; her mother, indeed, had a lit⯑tle more knowledge and foreſight, but as weak men are generally moſt obſtinate, ſhe could do little in oppoſition to her huſband. The girl had a ſmattering for muſic, and her father, thinking her won⯑derfully clever, indulged her in this penchant to a ridiculous exceſs. It was owing to his fondneſs for this girl, and Charles and his ſiſter having ſome knowledge of muſic, and taking no⯑tice of her, that induced the landlord to give them the credit he had done; for theſe people, in general, ſoon find out the circumſtances of their gueſts, and [80]never ſuffer them to run up a long bill, unleſs where there is plenty of money to pay it.

‘Brother, (ſays Miſs Simple to Charles) I have made the landlord's daughter abſolutely believe you are a man of fortune, and deſperately in love with her—ſhe has ten thouſand pounds left her by an uncle, and her father, if he pleaſes, can give her twice as much; for ſhe is an only child: —ſhe's a ſilly girl, believes every thing’—‘Miſs Dolly Whip, (ſays I, for that was her name,) my bro⯑ther's paſſion for you is ſo ardent...’ On Charles's endeavouring to ſpeak, ſhe ſtopped him ſhort with ‘Do be quiet [81]—where was I?—oh—is ſo ardent, that, for this month paſt, he has been want⯑ing to break his mind to you; but not having had an opportunity of meeting you alone, has requeſted me to plead his cauſe for him, and is willing to ſettle.....’ Charles ſtill wiſhing to ſay ſomething and beginning with "But...." ſhe a ſecond time ſtopped him; ‘now but again; al⯑ways interrupting me with your if's and your but's; you dearly love to hear yourſelf ſpeak,—there is no edging in a word for you—I have quite forgot where I was—well, no matter, I have done the buſineſs; you can have no objections here, ſhe's young and pretty; we will take her to [82]Paris, you ſhall there marry her, beg pardon of the father, promiſe that you will never do the like again, and throw yourſelf upon his mercy. There is little fear of her, ſhe hates home, is eager for an elopement, and will do any thing I adviſe her to.’

CHAP. VII.

AT this hotel there were two ſingular clubs, one conſiſting of fat men and the other of lean; none were admitted into the former that weighed leſs than twenty ſtone, and none into the latter that weighed more than ten; they met always on the ſame day, and indeed [83]in the ſame room; for the long room in this houſe was divided, on this occaſion, by a ſliding partition into two; the fat club-room was called the Cormorant, that of the lean club, the Weeſel; the firſt was furniſhed with elbow chairs, pipes and tobacco; the latter with little elſe than news-papers; for the mem⯑bers of the lean club, had not ſpirit enough to indulge themſelves with good living, and of courſe were leſs in the in⯑tereſt of Whip. The cormorant-club, he would obſerve, was worth continuing; they eat and drank to ſome purpoſe: but the weeſel-club coſt him more in newſpapers than all the profit he got by their welch-rabbits and ſneakers of punch. They eſtabliſhed fines among [84]themſelves to keep them to time, and they both met at the ſame hour. The members of the cormorant, were true guttlers. ‘What have you for ſupper Dick, (ſaid Gorger, the firſt comer) to the waiter? "A fine chicken-turtle, (anſwered he) a ſovereign haunch covered with fat, and a few other trifles.’ Gorger licking his chops, and clapping the waiter upon his back (re⯑turned) ‘that's a brave fellow!—How long before ſupper?’ ‘Full half an hour (ſaid Dick)—the cook tells me a little accident has happened in the kitchen, that has put it back.’ Gor⯑ger alarmed at the account, (cried) "Gadſo—not to the turtle I hope?" Dick ſet him at eaſe on this head, and he [85]went on; ‘I cannot wait half an hour, bring me ſomething by way of whet.’ Aye, a whet, a whet, was the general cry; for ſeveral now came in whilſt he was talking to the waiter. The room was up one pair of ſtairs, and Swag, one of the members, whom a flight of ſtairs always put out of breath, ſaid ‘I muſt wote for having our club-room on the ground-floor, or in a little time I ſhall not be able to reach it.’ ‘Why, indeed, maſter Swag, (returned Gorger) you ſeem to improve on tur⯑tle and veniſon. We ſhall have no occaſion to weigh you out of our ſo⯑ciety;’ —for this man weighed more than 25 ſtone. They now took to their pipes, and the ſmoke making its way [86]into the adjoining room, Hectic and Weezen, two members of the lean club, began coughing at each other. To theſe entered Starveling, Drybones, and others. When they were got into con⯑verſation, they made themſelves merry at the expence of the gentlemen in the other room; Weezen, the dryeſt fel⯑low of the company, told the following ſtory of Gorger, a member of the fat club. ‘Not long ſince, (ſaid he) a friend of mine called on him about noon, and found him in the greateſt diſtreſs you can conceive; ſtamping and roaring, as if in the utmoſt ago⯑nies. What is the matter, maſter Gor⯑ger? ſays his friend, you have not loſt your wife and your darling child [87]I hope? Wife! (returned he), oh no—there never was ſo unfortunate a man!’—‘Any ſhip you have under⯑written loſt at ſea? (ſays my friend:) Shah ſhah, (replies Gorger, fretfully) no ſhip—that would not have vexed me. Sure Providence has marked me out for affliction!’ Then ſtamping and roaring again, he went on, ‘no ſhip—no wife—no ſon—If you muſt know the cauſe—I am invited at four, to two turtles and a haunch, and can be but at one of them. Had they been pitched at two, four, and ſix, I might have been at them all!’—In the other room the members were in the height of ſpirits, when in comes Bolter, to whom Gorger addreſſed himſelf with, [88] ‘Have you heard any thing of the acci⯑dent below? Supper is a long time a coming. Yes, (replied Bolter) I was preſent when the miſchief was done. The careleſs raſcal of a cook, did not cover the pan in which the turtle was ſtewing, and ſo the ſoot fell into it.’ At this the whole company, to the number of 15 or 16, roſe up greatly alarmed. Had the ſtair-caſe been on fire, and they had no means of eſcape, they could not have been more ſo; but Bolter a little calmed them by faying "he luckily was in the kitchen enquiring after ſupper, ‘and having a ſteady hand, offered his aſ⯑ſiſtance, got off the greateſt part of it, and ſaved a few mouthfuls of the green fat. What, (ſaid Swag) will a [89]few mouthfuls be among ſo many of us? Make yourſelf eaſy about that,’ replied Bolter. ‘Thoſe few mouthfuls I have ſecured, (patting his belly,) are ſafe lodged here.’

It is impoſſible to give my readers a good deſcription of the contraſted figures of theſe two clubs. Gorger was of mid⯑dle ſtature, but the enormity of his bulk took off from his height, and though near five feet ten inches high, he did not ap⯑pear more than five feet. His head was very ſmall in proportion, and was ſtuck in ſo low between his ſhoulders, as to have little or no neck; nor was he able to look back, without turning his whole body; this, with a pair of full ſet eyes, [90]ſtamped gluttony in his countenance. Swag was of another make, his bulk was partial, and collected itſelf accord⯑ingly. He had ſuch a protuberance of belly, that its weight occaſioned it to hang down between his knees; and not having a proper foundation to ſupport it, was, with every motion continually on the ſwag. He was a cheerful fellow, however, as fat men generally are, and was appointed preſident of the ſociety, as filling the great chair beſt. He has been known in a warm evening to yield a quart of liquid fat, that dropped in the courſe of a few hours, from the pendant part of his belly into a pan placed between his legs. When he rode, he wore a pair of buckſkin breeches, whoſe waiſtband [91]reached to his boſom, which had a line of 17 buttons, and this waiſtcoat ſloping off from the ſecond button of this enor⯑mous waiſtband above, gave him a droll appearance. Others were of another caſt, but equally laughable. Of the lean club, Drybones was a ſinewy mor⯑tal, more like a dryed preparation of a dead muſcular ſubject, than a living one; his joints cracked as he moved, and when he chanced to gape, it was always with fear he ſhould not be able to cloſe his mouth again. He had a very ſpare hungry countenance with hard features, truly the index of a fretful diſcontented mind, and though he was near ſix feet high, he did not weigh more than nine ſtone. Weezen was, on the other hand, [92]rather the ſhadow of a man than other⯑wiſe, ſcarce reached five feet in height, and weighed under ſix ſtone. His voice was ſhrill and pining, and nature hav⯑ing deprived him of that fleſhineſs be⯑hind, that ſeats a man at his eaſe, he was obliged to ſupply its want by a thick quilting in his breeches. Hectic, was a conſumptive man, with high ſharp cheek-bones, ſo weak and tottering in his frame, that you might blow him down; a continual cough ſuffuſed his eyes with tears, and between them and his mouth, his handkerchief was always employed. The general charac⯑ter of the members of the fat club, was heartineſs, conviviality, and mirth; [93]that of the lean club, peeviſhneſs, ill⯑nature and miſery.

CHAP. VIII.

MY friend Will, had very few ac⯑quaintances in London but was making freſh every day, and the hotel where he lodged gave him many oppor⯑tunities. Having little to employ him, and waiting for the arrival of Miſs Raſpe, he fell in with three or four extraordinary characters, that perhaps to a man of his obſervation and the knowledge and entertainment he drew from them, was [94]more than fell to his ſhare. Among theſe were Mr. Spatter, Tom Rattle, Dick Dangle, Sir Lucius Vapour, Jack Lattitat, and others.

Spatter was a communicative prating fellow, that loved to entertain you with the chit-chat of the town. He had the entreé of every houſe, and of courſe knew what was doing in every faſhion⯑able family; he would talk big with the men, and ſmall with the women, and thus would makefree with the characters of thoſe he knew; and like all goſſips, accommodate himſelf to all parties. In ſhort, he was a true male goſſip. He had promiſed my friend Will, to introduce him at Brookes's; was, according to his [95]own account, intimate with every toniſh man there, and could enſure a bal⯑lot in his favour. Brookes's was a place where Ramble was deſirous of admiſſion, and relied on Spatter for an introduc⯑tion; one day he aſked him if he had put up his name at Brookes's according to his promiſe. Spatter, who, by the bye, had no admiſſion there himſelf, but only boaſted of the honor to give him a degree of Ton, ſcarce knew how to parry this direct queſtion— ‘Brookes's, my dear Colonel (ſaid he) is not as it was. When that ſubſcription conſiſted only of the firſt characters in the kingdom, it was an honour to be ſeen among them; but ſince they have admitted all the riff-raff of the [96]town, it is diſreputable to be ſeen in the Society.’

To tell you a ſecret, I mean to withdraw my own name. ‘Come, come, (ſays Ramble,) this is only a polite get off,’ ‘No—upon my honor’ (returned Spatter)—‘well then, if you muſt have it—I did propoſe you, but ſuch is the capriciouſneſs of men, that though you ſtand well with the world; though the ſubſcription con⯑ſiſts of near 400 members; though I made all the friends I could, and that among the leading men, Lord Ran⯑dom, Count Trifle, Sir Jeffery Lounge, and many other; yet’....Ramble out of patience with this round-about ſtory, [97]ſaw throught it, and anticipated what Spatter was unwilling to declare, by ſay⯑ing ‘he ſuppoſed he was black-balled!’ ‘even ſo, (returns Spatter ſhrugging) but no matter, don't be uneaſy; I mean to quit in myſelf,—and if ever I put my name up a ſecond time—they may black-ball me and welcome.’—‘Un⯑eaſy! (cried Ramble) You miſtake me quite if you ſuppoſe me uneaſy— It would ill become a man of ſenſe, to be hurt at ſuch an event;—I aſ⯑ſure you I rejoice at it.’—‘Rejoice! (ſays Spatter)—’ ‘Yes, rejoice, (re⯑turns Ramble) rejoice to learn there are four hundred men in the world, ſo much better than myſelf.’

[98] ‘This buſineſs ſettled, (ſays Spatter) tell me, Colonel, how you are diſpoſed this evening. There's a rout at Lady Daſhit's, to which I have a card of invitation; if you are for a party of half-crown whiſt, I'll introduce you; Her Ladyſhip's a lively woman, and will be happy to ſee any friend of mine.’—‘I think, (replied Ramble) I have heard of this Lady. Is not ſhe a learned woman; a woman of great reading? Is not Dangle acquainted with her?’—‘Dangle, (ſays Spatter) is, entre nous, as great a fool as her Ladyſhip; ſhe wiſhes to paſs with the world for a woman of erudition; but .... I ſay no more; it's a good houſe of rendezvous; —you'll ſee a [99]great deal of world there; and if you'll go I'll introduce you. Name your hour, and I'll call for you, and take you in my carriage.’—‘I ſuppoſe, (returns Ramble) nine will be a good hour; if you'll call upon me then, you'll find me at home.’

CHAP. IX.

DOLLY Whip, I have obſerved, had a little notion of muſic, and ſung prettily, which ſhe was induced to at⯑tend to, more than ordinary, from an opportunity it gave her of being more frequently in company with Charles [100]Simple and his ſiſter. Her mother was a plain woman, but foreſaw the ill ef⯑fects it might produce, and liked nei⯑ther the amuſement nor the company it led her into.— ‘'Tis intolerable, Dol⯑ly, (ſaid ſhe one day) to ſee you ſpending half your time, drumming on that wooden box, playing the fool up and down, and acting, as you do;’ (for a taſte for ſinging led her alſo to acting, and ſhe would occaſionally take off the ſingers on the ſtage.) ‘This enthuſi⯑aſm of your father's, in muſic, plays, and the like, muſt end in his ruin; and it ill becomes a girl of your for⯑tune to be thus waſting your time:’ And on her ſaying, in return, ſhe ſhould like, of all things, to be an actreſs; [101]would rate her with, ‘Huſſy, do you know what an actreſs is?’—‘Yes, Mamma; (ſays ſhe) there are a great many lords and ladies actreſſes now. Muſic and acting, Miſs Simple ſays, are all the mode; nothing elſe is talked of. The newſpapers don't tell us, that Miſs Such-a-one of ten thouſand pounds fortune, and Miſs Such-a-one, of twenty thouſand, is arrived in town, or has left it; but they are continually ſpeaking of the muſical people.—Sto⯑race is engaged at the opera-houſe; Marcheſi is gone to Italy; Rubinelli is to ſupply his place. Why, Mamma, theſe opera-ſingers muſt be much coveted, when they are ſent for ſo far to entertain us. Miſs Simple ſays, [102]kings can make dukes, generals, and admirals, but no one can make opera⯑ſingers but the pope; I aſked her how that was, but ſhe would not tell me. Now, Mamma, let me aſk you, whether my ſinging does not con⯑ſtantly bring a great deal of good company to our houſe, that turns out to Papa's benefit?’—And on the mother's ſaying, ‘Yes; com⯑pany that will ruin him, if they don't ruin you;’ ſhe went on, ‘They are too complaiſant to ruin me; you can't conceive what fine things they ſay to me, and are always on their knees, kiſſing my hand, and praiſing my beauty. Count Bragoni ſays I am an angel; Baron Brigel a divi⯑nity; [103]the Chevalier calls me a Ceci⯑lia; and Sir Michael Molaſſes de⯑clares my breath is ſweeter than a ſugar-cane; Mr. A. calls me enchant⯑ing; Mr. B. is in raptures with my eyes; Mr. C. with my ſhape; one with my teeth; another with my neck; and another with the ſmall of my leg.’

Her mother, who had, during this long ſpeech, been induſtriouſly darning her daughter's apron, could bear it no longer; ſhe reddened up, took her ſpectacles off her noſe, and cried, ‘Hold your nonſenſe, girl, with your A's, your B's, and your C's; you may run through the whole alphabet at [104]this rate;—you ſeem to have been practiſing theſe expreſſions.’

Such was the ſimplicity of this girl; and it is eaſy to ſee how ready a prey ſhe would become to the deſpoiler. It was fortunate ſhe fell not into worſe hands than Charles Simple. Well might Mrs. Whip upbraid her huſband with his muſical infatuation; well might ſhe ſay to him, ‘You are not aware of the conſequences; this mu⯑ſic will not only be the ruin of your daughter, but of yourſelf; you are ſurrounded with a parcel of ſharpers, that eat, and drink, and live in the houſe, and never think of paying. They watch your child's fortune, [105]'tis their whole buſineſs. There's Miſs Simple has already turned her brain; ſhe is as reſtleſs as her tongue, and is too buſy not to be hatching ſome ſcheme or other. She promiſed yeſterday to pay off her bill, inſtead of that ſhe is paying you off with muſic. I hate theſe muſical notes, I'd rather have one bank-note than a thouſand of them.’

As Mrs. Whip foreſaw, the ſnare laid for her daughter took effect, ſhe eloped a few days after, with Charles and his ſiſter, to Calais, without waiting for the Colonel's pecuniary aſſiſtance, and the young couple were there married. My friend Will enquired into the ſe⯑quel, [106]and found it had ended as it was planned. Mrs Simple wrote to her fa⯑ther; the faux pas was forgiven, and Charles became maſter of her fortune. It is not every adventure that ends ſo well.

CHAP. X.

SPATTER called on Will Ramble, and conveyed him to Lady Daſh⯑it's, where he was agreeably entertained.

This lady was the widow of Sir Barnaby Daſhit, a ſugar-baker, in Pud⯑ding-lane. [107]She was very much con⯑fined during the life of her huſband, whoſe whole thoughts were centered in his buſineſs; and thus became, what, in the city, they call a monied man; but, poor fellow, no ſooner was he laid in his grave, than his widow, (then between forty and fifty) became poſſeſſed of the whole of his fortune, and being the daughter of a city knight; (a little more refined in his notions, and who ſuffered his family to figure away at Pewterer's⯑hall; and the Manſion-houſe, on the two high city feſtivals) imbibed a ſpirit of gentility, and ſet out afreſh in life, by taking a houſe at the weſt end of the town. She was a very vain, weak wo⯑man, and nothing hurt that vanity more [108]than the admiration, a niece of her's, by her huſband's ſide, received from the gentlemen that viſited at her houſe; for this young lady, being an orphan, was placed with Lady Daſhit, at the age of ſixteen, and continued with her after ſhe became miſtreſs of her fortune, which amounted to thirty thouſand pounds in the funds. Miſs Trevor, for that was her name, was an amiable young lady of great female accompliſh⯑ments, with a moderate ſhare of beauty, and renowned for her modeſty and prudent deportment.

Ramble, had he not loſt his heart be⯑fore, would effectually have done it on his firſt introduction at Lady Daſhit's; [109]for he often declared, had he not met with Miſs Raſpe, and made propoſals of marriage to her, he ſhould inſtantly have become Miſs Trevor's admirer.

Philoſophers ſay, in accounting for love at firſt ſight, that there is a certain emanation flowing from the human heart, forming as it were an atmoſphere, round the frame of every individual, that, like the property of the loadſtone, has an attractive and repellent power; and that when two of different ſexes meet ſo near, as to be within the circle of that emanation, this magnetic power ope⯑rates in a leſs or greater degree, and oc⯑caſions, what we either call love or diſ⯑guſt; but where ſuch emanation of cor⯑reſponding [110]reſponding hearts exiſts, there is a mu⯑tual ſympathy of ſoul.—Whether this be true in the preſent caſe, I will not ſay, but my friend Ramble was very much taken with Miſs Trevor, and Miſs Tre⯑vor very much ſmitten with him:

There were aſſembled a large group of people, of almoſt all deſcriptions, both men and women; among the former were Ned Saunter and Dick Dangle, of whom I ſhall ſpeak more hereafter.

Not liking to play at cards, he be⯑came one of a ſmall party, who was liſtening to an extraordinary converſa⯑tion that took place between Lord Ran⯑dom [111]and the elder Miſs Gadabout, a lady about thrity years of age, who ſeemed to try who ſhould have the beſt of the argument on a ſubject of gallantry. Miſs Gadabout obſerving to Lord Ran⯑dom, that he came very late; ‘I ſhould have been here an hour ago,|(ſaid he) had it not been for two fooliſh letters, from two fooliſh women, which were brought me at the very moment I was ſtepping into my carriage. I have no conception how they knew I was come to town; for I arrived only the day before.’—‘Oh, I can tell you, (ſaid Miſs Gadabout, archly) you ſent to them.’ Lord Random did not re⯑ceive this rebuke with that pleaſantry, he ought, but ill-naturedly replied, [112] ‘Your remark would be a juſt one, did not the ladies, in this polite age, ſave the gentlemen that ceremony, by tak⯑ing the trouble of finding out their ar⯑rival themſelves.’

In ſhort, Miſs Gadabout's keen reply diſconcerted Lord Random ſo much, that he turned from her, and addreſſed his converſation to other ladies, to whom he related ſo many anecdotes, degrading to the ſex, that they muſt have had more than common good temper to liſten to him. Miſs Gadabout was made acquainted with this, and took him to taſk for it. ‘Do you think it generous, My Lord, (ſaid ſhe) to ſpeak ſo lightly of, and defame the [113]women you are pleaſed to ſay you have loved?’—‘Were I not indiſ⯑creet, Madam, (returned his Lordſhip) they would be ſo themſelves. Have I then no claim on their gratitude for ſparing them the neceſſity of it? For one woman who wiſhes to keep her amour a ſecret, there are thou⯑ſands that glory in making it public. That cenſure, My Lord, (ſaid Miſs Gadabout) "is too ſevere. Though there are women that are not virtuous, it does not follow that ſuch women are libertines. You paint them in ſuch bad colours that one would think they ſurrendered as ſoon as at⯑tacked.’—"There are, Madam, (returned his Lordſhip) ‘unluckily, [114]ſo many examples in ſupport of my opinion, that it is more ridiculous to think it falſe, than ill-natured to be⯑lieve it true.’—"As your Lordſhip, (retorts Miſs Gadabout) ‘ſpeaks your thoughts ſo freely, I wonder at the folly of thoſe women who have placed their happineſs in your conſtancy, and truſted their fame to your diſcre⯑tion. What arts did your Lordſhip make uſe of to make ſuch dupes of them?’—‘Arts! Madam,’ (anſwered his Lordſhip, examining himſelf from head to feet) ‘I have no hypocriſy, truſt me; I leave that to thoſe leſs in⯑debted to nature. The vanity of the women, Madam, has been my con⯑ſtant friend. Through this, and this [115]alone, I have always found the way to their hearts. The honour of being courted by a man of gallantry and rank, is, with many, a ſufficient mo⯑tive, not even to wait the declaration of our ſentiments.’ Miſs Gadabout could ſcarce keep her temper, but ſtill wiſhed to let him down in the eyes of thoſe who were liſtening to the conver⯑ſation. She told his Lordſhip ſhe was ſure, from his aſſertions, if there was truth in them, that he could only have aſſociated with bad company. ‘If you make no diſtinction, (replied his Lordſhip) between then woman who has a lover, and the woman not⯑ed for her libertiniſm, I will con⯑feſs I keep only bad company; for, [116]among all the women of my ac⯑quaintance, I do not know one, who either is not, or has not been in love.’ ‘Love! (cries Miſs, ſmartly) How eaſily you proſtitute that word!—Can your Lordſhip truly ſay that you have been loved, or was ever in love your⯑ſelf?’ —‘I neither can, (anſwered he) nor will I ſay any ſuch thing. Love is a paſſion unknown in the great world; and I do not ſee what we loſe by being ſtrangers to it. I call love a pleaſure, or the art of inſpiring de⯑ſires and of living a happy life; for the heart ought never to be laid under reſtraints. I am always tempted to turn inconſtant, when I perceive a woman ſtudies to captivate me.’— [117] ‘How would you behave, (aſked Miſs Gadabout) if you diſcovered that the object of your love was inclined to in⯑fidelity?’—‘I would, if poſſible, (ſaid he) be before-hand with her.’—"Delightful!" (ſaid Miſs Gadabout) ‘And yet there have been women who have thought you amiable?’—‘I ſhould be more ſurprized, (returned his Lordſhip) fi they had not loved me for thoſe very defects you con⯑demn; eſpecially when they find we glory in ſuch defects, merely to coun⯑tenance their whims, their caprices, and their levity. We are inconſtant. Are they leſs faithleſs? Do they not ſtudy rather to create deſires in the men, that eſteem? Reflect a moment, and you [118]will not find ſingularity either in my conduct or my manner of thinking.’ At this Miſs Gadabout lifted up her eyes, and adviſed his Lordſhip never to pay his addreſſes to a woman of ſenſe, as he never could be happy in an at⯑tempt to pleaſe her. Lord Random was even with her, for he told her with a ſneer, that he was afraid he never ſhould have occaſion to remember her advice.

Lady Daſhit ſeemed to ogle almoſt all the men, was jealous of the admira⯑tion paid to Miſs Trevor, and made her⯑ſelf truly ridiculous. Ramble being here introduced, he obtained the entrée of the houſe, become frequently a viſtitor, and was always well received.

[119]Spatter gave him to underſtand that Dangle was an admirer of Miſs Trevor; but this did not ſtrike him at that time, though afterwards he was made better acquainted with it.

Spatter called on him the next morn⯑ing, to talk over the amuſements of the evening before, and gave him a conciſe, but ill-natured hiſtory of all the com⯑pany. He ſaid that Miſs Trevor was a fine girl; that Dangle was a happy man, for he was ſeen to ſteal out of Lady Daſhit's houſe, one morning, at day⯑break, unpowdered, and in diſhabille. Report ſays, (continued he) that he came out at the parlour-window, for he Ladyſhip always keeps the key of the [120]ſtreet-door, at night, in her own cuſtody; and that Miſs Trevor concealed him, till the company were gone, behind one of the window-curtains.

Ramble, with a degree of indigna⯑tion, ſaid, ſhe was a modeſt, well-be⯑haved young lady; and he had too good an opinion of her to give credit to ſuch a report; that he was quite ena⯑moured with her, and could not bear to hear a ſtory propagated ſo much to her diſadvantage, in which he was perſuaded there was not the leaſt ſhadow of truth.

‘Miſtake me not, Colonel, (ſays Spat⯑ter, confuſed) I do not mean to ſay the factis ſo; I only give it as a [121]report—God forbid it ſhould gain ground to her diſcredit.—To beſure Miſs Trevor...will...certainly ſhe is a very lovely girl.—But ſurely, Colonel, you don't think of her as a wife? She'll make a horrid bad one; for, admitting the whole of the ſtory reſpecting Dangle not to be true, I'll be ſworn there's ſomething in it; for her houſe is become the rendezvous of all the young fellows about town. Rap-rap-rap; rap-rap-rap—Damme, if the knocker is not always agoing. but I don't wonder at it; flies will be buzzing in the ſunſhine; I ſhall be rapping at her myſelf, before it is long.’

CHAP. XI.

SCARCE and Spatter left the room, but in came Jack Latitat, ſplaſhed, and out of breath; ‘D-mn it! (ſays he) I have given two of the keeneſt blood⯑hounds the fineſt run, throught St. James's Park, imaginable; and thrown them quite off their ſcent, after a cir⯑cuit of twenty minutes, in which I was but a few yards before them. I led them through the cloiſters of St. James's houſe, out of one court into another; ſo from the Stable-yard into the Park again. Atthe Palace I loſr ſight [123]of them, as great men there, general⯑ly do their followers. Had they kept me in view, into the Park again, I'd have run them hard up Conſtitution-hill, and would have been bound to have knocked them up, before they reached the Park-gate. I keep myſelf in wind on purpoſe.—I never enjoyed a chaſe ſo much in my life. It poured ſo faſt from the heavens that all the Park was in motion, ſo that our running was not noticed.’—‘By the embroi⯑dery, and ſpangles, on your coat, (ſaid Ramble) I ſuppoſe, they were Cuſ⯑tom-houſe officers, in purſuit of con⯑traband goods. You would have been a fine ſeizure!’—‘Cuſtom-houſe officers, I'faith! (returned Jack) not [124]a-bit; not a-bit; the dogs that chaſed me were true blood, up to the very noſe of them;—nothing leſs than Sheriffs officers. Do you know I lodge in Spring Gardens, in the verge of the court, and when any man thinks pro⯑per to take out a writ againſt me, I ſoon make him ſick of it? Theſe fellows won't long follow a man that gives them much trouble; and I never fail to give them enough of it. When⯑ever I find myſelf beſet, I give the raſcals a chace or two through the Parks, and they have done with me." And why all this? (replied Ramble) Your father left you a pretty fortune, enough to live handſomely upon. I ſee no reaſon why you ſhould be thus [125]continually running the gauntlet, and keeping yourſelf in hot water.’— ‘Love it of all things, (retorted he) 'tis the joy of my life; beſides, Will, ſuch kind of reaſoning betrays in you, a want of world. You pretend to have more knowledge, and foreſight into things, than other men; I tell you you have leſs,—a d—mned deal leſs.’ ‘Sure, (returned Ramble) there can be no knowledge or foreſight in run⯑ning in debt, and being afraid of a bailiff!’—‘Not only knowledge and foreſight, (replied he) my dear friend; but a great deal of prudence, and a great deal of diſcretion.’—‘The de⯑vil's in it, (replied Ramble) warmly, if there can be any diſcretion in run⯑ning [126]up a debt you will never be able to pay; that will tend to the injury of your creditors, and make your own heart ach!’—‘Phſhaw! Will (an⯑ſwered he) that's begging the queſ⯑tion. You are a bad philoſopher; and, of courſe, a bad reaſoner. 'Tis want of principle that makes many men run in debt, but it is love of prin⯑cipal that leads me to it. May father left me twenty thouſand pounds. What is that to maintaina gentleman? The moſt I can make of it is one thouſand pounds a year; a poor prin⯑cipal for a man to figure away with, in theſe expenſive times! It won't half do it; and a man may as well do nothing, as do it by halves. Now, [127]my plan is to double my principal, by borrowing twenty thouſand pounds of the world, putting it out to uſe, and making my income two thou⯑ſand a year, inſtead of one.’—‘How!—What!—It's all a paradox, (ſaid Ramble.) "This, my dear Will, (reſumed he) is a proof that I have knowledge and foreſight, and that you have none. For example; (and put⯑ting the fore finger of his right hand, with a degree of ſelf-conſequence up⯑on, and preſſing gently the inſide of the thumb of his left hand) with a little of that knowledge and foreſight you recommend to me, you will find, by calculation, that as two and two make four, if one twenty thouſand pounds [128]produces one thouſand pounds a year intereſt, twice the ſum will produce two thouſand pounds; and if I can't live upon one thouſand pounds a year, I may upon two.’—"Go on", (ſaid Ramble, full of thought and atten⯑tion to his reaſoning. ‘Now, (con⯑tinued he) this ſecond twenty thou⯑ſand pounds I am borrowing of the world.’—‘That is to ſay, (interrupted Ramble) you are running in debt.’—‘Exactly ſo (replied he) and I am as eager to get into debt, as thouſands would be to get out of it. I labour hard; ſtrain every nerve; ranſack my imagination; nay, ſometimes, con⯑trary to my natural diſpoſition, I uſe artifice, cunning, and make it my [129]ſtudy to get into debt, and, for the ſoul of me, cannot effect it. There's Dick Thoughtleſs, d—mn me, if he was not five thouſand pounds in debt before he knew where he was; but he has knowledge by inſtinct; and, like all the monkies of the age, poſ⯑ſeſſes cunning, without the art of communicating it. I have been run⯑ning in debt theſe three years, and have not been able to owe five thou⯑ſand yet.—Oh, I am an un⯑lucky dog! Had my father brought me up a merchant, I might have got twenty thouſand pounds in debt in ſix months; but it is the misfortune of gentlemen, that, though the good-na⯑natured part of the world are well diſ⯑poſed [130]ſed to them, and require but little ap⯑lication; we are ſuch blockheads as not to know how to apply to them. I hope, however, to accompliſh my pur⯑poſe before I am two years older. I was lucky enough, the other day, be⯑ing in good credit, to touch Bod Corkſcrew, the hardwareman, for fifteen hundred poundsworth of Bir⯑mingham goods, which I have con⯑ſigned to a friend in Portugal, and am to have my remittances in wine, which I ſhall readily diſpoſe of among my own friends, So you ſee, Will, I have a little ſmattering for trade. Neceſſity has no legs, ſay the Latin proverb, and my father little ſtudied his ſon's intereſt, when he made a [131]gentleman of him; for, had he put me into a good wholeſale buſineſs, with twenty thouſand pounds, I ſhould have been worth a plumb before this time.’—‘Poſſeſſed of one, my dear Jack, you might have been, but, not worth one; (returned he) for no man can be worth what he cannot call his own.’—‘I deny the concluſion. (retorted he) Every man is worth what he can make uſe of. The raſcal without principle, is a worthleſs man; but the well-meaning man, with prin⯑cipal, is a man of worth, and there⯑fore a worthy man. That's logic. I fancy, my dear Will, I ſhall beat you all hollow in argument.’ Though Ramble abhorred his conduct, he could [132]not but ſmile at his reaſoning, and beg⯑ged him to ſhew him, in what ſenſe of the word he was a well-meaning man; for, that being the major of his argu⯑ment, if the major was overthrown, the concluſion was deſtroyed. ‘By well⯑meaning, (ſaid he) is underſtood a man who means well. Now I accept of credit, with all the good intentions in the world, to eaſe the fools of their uſeleſs money, encourage trade, ſerve myſelf, and do credit to my family and connexions. Every man who lends me, in this ſtyle; charges a pro⯑fit proportionable to the extent of cre⯑dit he gives; and will never be angry with me, if he gets his money at laſt. If he did not thus lend it to me, he [133]would, perhaps, ſquander it; but, by diſpoſing of it in the manner I thus draw it from him, if I ſhould never be able to pay him in the courſe of my life, he will find it in my treaſury at my death.’—‘Then you do not ſquander, and diſſipate the money you thus get upon credit? (ſaid Ramble) Oh, Will, Will!’ (cried he, laying his palm of his hand gently on my friend's forehead, and ſmiling on him, with a kind of pitiable contempt) ‘Thou do'ſt want foreſight indeed! If I ſquandered it, I ſhould be a worthleſs man, and not a man of worth. Why, I hoard it for them; I am their banker; a current of public money thus runs through my ſhop; and, ſurely, for [134]this care and attention, I have as great right to the intereſt of that money, as a banker has to the intereſt of the caſh depoſited in his houſe.’ —‘I grant you, (returned Ramble) if, like a banker, you could return the caſh when called on.’—‘Bad reaſoning gain, Will. (retorted he) They do not want it back, for a great length of time. It is the long credit they give, that juſtifies their enormous charges. Why does a breaches-maker charge two guineas and a half for a pair of buckſkin breeches, that he could, on prompt payment, afford to ſell for half the money? It is, becauſe this knave chooſes to lend me his money, and demands an enormous intereſt, [135]through a fear of my never returning it. Now, if I never return it, it is but the biter bit, or the fool caught in his own trap. On the contrary, if I do pay him, no matter when, at my death, or otherwiſe, two-thirds of his bill; I pay him, perhaps, contrary to his expectation, with an ample profit. If he receives the whole of his bill, he gets cent per cent, and has reaſon to revere my memory as long as he lives. Old Staytape, the Taylor, of Covent-Garden, was never worth a groat, till the death of hte firſt Duke of Cumber⯑land; but, as ſoon as he got the mo⯑ney, the Prince owed him, and which he was fearful he never ſhould get, he lived like a Prince himſelf, kept his [136]girl, a poſt-chaiſe and four, and a ſnug box in the country, and drank claret.’ ‘But there are men, Jack, (replied Ramble) that will not wait till you die. What then?’ — ‘I ſcramble through life, (ſay he) with ſuch, as well as I can; and ſtop the mouth of a gaping creditor with part of his money: take up credit with B. to pay it to C. and run them occaſionally up Conſtitution-hill, till they are out of breath. Something may happen, in the chapter of accidents, to get rid of ſuch raſcals before; a good round legacy; a place at court; or a rich wife; (but this ſhould be my laſt re⯑ſource) and, if diſappointed, after all, the forty thouſand pound ſtock, at my [137]death, will balance the whole. Thus you ſee, my dear Will, that your friend Latitat, is neither ſo diſſipated, or ſo worthleſs a being, as you are apt to conceive him; and, if he runs in debt, it is from a love of principal, as I ſaid, and not from a want of it. What would become of the F—xs, the H—res, and Sh—ns, of the age, was it not for the good nature of the trading part of this kingdom, who are always at work for them; who make them a tender of their property, almoſt unaſked, and who are only unhappy when they do not ac⯑cept of it? I only wiſh ſuch men could lay their hands upon their hearts, and ſay they borrowed it, upon the [138]ſame principle that I do.’ Logical, ſophiſtical, and eluſive, as Jack's rea⯑ſoning was, Ramble could not but ad⯑mire the ingenuity of it.

How apt are we to reaſon ourſelves into the belief of things we wiſh; and reconcile ourſelves, by fallacious argu⯑ments, to faults and errors conſonant to our diſpoſitions. Such is the perverſity of human nature, that though we wiſh to ſtand well with the world, and though we covet the good opinion of thoſe we are acquainted with, we have not reſo⯑lution to contend with our paſſions, and act in a manner that we ſhould com⯑mend in others; but give way to the bias of a corrupt mind, and labour to [139]deceive mankind by a ſpecious colour⯑ing of faults. Jack's arguments were fallacious in the extreme. Faſhionable young men, who run in debt, ſquander as faſt as they acquire, and put it out of their power to purſue their firſt aim; but, was it even poſſible to increaſe a man's income, by ſuch modes as he talked of, it would not be only wrong, but iniquitous, ſuch, however, is the diſ⯑poſition of theſe men, that they are no more at a loſs for a pretext, to colour their baſe actions, than was the wolf in the fable, who wanted to devour the lamb, on a charge that ſhe had mudded the ſtream above him.

CHAP. XII.

LADY Daſhit had an intriguing chamber-maid, whoſe name was Bridget; ſhe was, as is too often the caſe, the confidante of both the ladies: a froward pert huſſey, courted by the valet of Mr. Dangle; and had planned, in her own mind, a ſcheme, that her ſweet-heart Tom, ſhould be introduced by her, to her old lady, as a man of rank, marry her, and thus cheat her of her fortune. Indeed the weakneſs and vanity of Lady Daſhit, contri⯑buted not a little to the plan. "Tom [141](ſaid Bridget, one day, when he brought a letter from his maſter to her young miſtreſs,) ‘I long very much to ſee you; I have the fineſt ſcheme in my head that ever chamber maid deviſed;’ and the ſollowing dialogue paſſed between them.

You muſt know that my old lady has lately taken it into her head to marry, whenever ſhe can find a ſuitable match.

What has Miſs Trevor and ſhe quarrelled?

Quarrelled? No, not that; but ſhe has ſeen ſo many young fellows dangling about by young miſtreſs, that her old mouth waters at them. Bridget [142]ſays ſhe the other day, to me, as I was pinning up her lappets, Miſs Trevor, with all her youth, and all her beauty, I find, would not have ſo many admirers, if it was not for her fortune. Fortune, is what the young men run after now-a-days, and though I am a few years older than her, having a much better fortune, and a tolerable ſhare of beauty, I do not ſee, but that if I was to lay out for it, I might get as good a huſband as ſhe can....

Beauty! (laughing) a ſuper⯑anuated, old....

Hear me out, fool—as ſhe can.... (in an under voice) ſo, ſays I, to her; without doubt, Ma'am, you may; and if you would not be diſpleaſed, [143]I could tell you now of a certain young gentleman, a man of diſtinction too, that would be glad to have you, in pre⯑ference to all the ſlip-ſlop girls he has yet ſeen.

And how did ſhe take it?

juſt as I expected, — ſaid, ſhe would one day contrive to ſee him. Now, who do you think this young gentleman is?

I do not know.

Gueſs.

I have not the leaſt conception.

No?—A handſome, ſtreight; well. made young fellow, (examining Tom) with a jeneſequy air, and as much braſs upon his front as yourſelf.

I thank you, kindly, for the compliment.

Can't you gueſs now?

Not I.

Dull oaf, — that, though ne⯑ceſſity obliges him ſometimes to wear a caſt coat, is as much of a gentleman (ex⯑amining Tom again,) as any gentleman⯑valet need be.

But you called him a man of diſtinction.

Suppoſe I did? — There are men of diſtinction in every claſs. I will diſtinguiſh him; I will give him a title, and introduce him as a great man, and when he marries my lady, he ſhall give me half her fortune.

Oh, — now I underſtand you.

You do? And if you had had the underſtanding of a gooſe, you might have done ſo before. I have conſi⯑dered your ſituation, Tom, and, as at beſt, it is but a diſagreeable one; I will put you upon a method of changing it.

I beg your pardom; my ſituation is far from being a diſagreeably one; to a ſilly fellow, I own it is a troubleſome employment; but, to a lad of ſpirit, it is full of charms. A ſuperior genius that goes to ſervice, does not confine himſelf to the menial offices of his em⯑ploy; he goes into a family to com⯑mand, rather than to obey; he begins by ſtudying his maſter; he accommodates [146]himſelf to his foibles, gains his confi⯑dence, and thus leads him by the noſe.

Impudence! Well, but as a good fortune is ſtill better, and as you are a ſmart fellow, Tom, and don't want for aſſurance, I have fixed upon you to court my miſtreſs.

That can't be—no; I can't poſſibly think of it—I am engaged to you.

Suppoſe you are,—and ſuppoſe I let you off: if we marry, as we are, we muſt always be ſervants; but marry her and we'll divide her for⯑tune between us, and then, if you have that fondneſs for me, you pretend, you may have me afterwards. For as [147]parſon ...what d'ye call him, ſays, a man may have as many wives as he will; beſides, as 'tis the faſhion to live together in the old natural way, with⯑out being married, we may follow the example of our betters, and leave the ce⯑remony out of the queſtion.

True—and it ſhall be ſo. But what will the world ſay?

What ſignifies the world? The world will call us wiſe; will laugh at her, and commend us. You ſhall be Sir Thomas Flam, and ſhe ſhall be My Lady Flam; — but where can you get a dreſs or two to appear in?

That's eaſily ſettled; I have an acquaintance, whoſe maſter's cloaths [148]will exactly fit me; that maſter is now in the country, and he has acceſs to the wardrobe.

The very thing, — but not a word of this for your life; I will ſee you again ſoon — Mum's the word.

As ſilent as death — and with this kiſs (kiſſing her) I'll ſeal up my lips.

CHAP. XIII.

SPATTER had no ſooner learnt that Ramble had a partiality for Miſs Trevor, but he poſts to Lady Daſhit's, true goſſip-like, to find out how ſhe would receive the information. He did not ſet out on a good-natured prin⯑ciple, in order to give pleaſure; but with that ill-natured ſatisfaction, that meddlers feel in mortifying others. [150]Spatter was a conſummate ſlanderer, hacknied in all the ways of detraction; this frequently brought him into diſ⯑agreeable ſituations; but being a rank coward, wherever he found that he gave offence, he would eat his words, and endeavour to explain away his aſ⯑ſertions; and this he had ſo happy a mode of doing, as not to loſe his ac⯑quaintance; for, though he was in a great meaſure ſeen through, the news he was able to communicate, made the lovers of tittle-tattle wink at his faults. When Spatter paid his viſit at Lady Daſhit's, ſhe, and Miſs Trevor were at work. Lady Daſhit, envious of the admiration Miſs Trevor met with from the men, had began upon the ſubject. [151] ‘You are a fortunate girl, (ſaid ſhe) my dear Emily, to have ſo many ad⯑mirers.’ —‘That depends, Ma'am, (replied Miſs Trevor) upon opi⯑nion; where a woman's vanity leads her to triumph over her lovers, ſhe has certainly means to gratify that vanity, more amidſt a number of ſuitors, than when ſhe has but one. But when her affections are fixed, a number of objects can be only a diſ⯑agreeable interruption.’ Lady Daſhit, by her inſinuating, ſifting manner, drew from Miſs Trevor a declaration, that ſhe loſt her heart in the firſt interview with Colonel Ramble, but that ſhe feared it would be attended with no good conſequences to her, as ſhe knew [152]little either of his diſpoſition, his con⯑nexions, or his ſituation in life. Spat⯑ter being now announced and uſhered, in, and the company ſeated, his firſt ad⯑dreſs to the ladies was, ‘Your Lady⯑ſhip looks charmingly to day!—Miſs Trevor, how divinely bright!’

"Full of compliments, Mr. Spatter," ſaid Lady Daſhit. ‘Compliments, Ma⯑dam, (anſwered Spatter) is only a faſhionable word for untruths, an article I never deal in, as I told my Lady Bab Squeamiſh, juſt now, when I was drinking a diſh of cho⯑colate with her.’—‘Pray, (ſays Lady Daſhit) how is her Ladyſhip?" At preſent (replied Spatter) never [153]better in her life; though the com⯑pany were a little alarmed, this morn⯑ing, at her fainting—for ſhe was ſit⯑ting with her back to the fire, which, in certain ſituations, ladies, you know, will cauſe fainting — a little freſh air, however, and a cordial (ſneering) ſoon brought her to herſelf.’ ‘This (obſerved Lady Daſhit) is the firſt time I ever heard any thing injuri⯑ous to Lady Bab's character.’ ‘Good God, Madam, (interrupted he) don't ſuppoſe I advert to any thing impro⯑per, the younger part of the com⯑pany, 'tis true, laugh'd, but that, I apprehend, was owing to the awk⯑ward manner in which ſhe fell. — No, Ladies, God forbid, any thing I [154]ſhould ſay, ſhould injure her ladyſhip, in your good opinion; ſhe is ſuppoſed to have a natural averſion to the male ſex; but this, I preſume, is merely a ſuppoſition. If ſhe had made a ſlip, I ſhould be the laſt per⯑ſon to divulge it: — You have heard, I ſuppoſe, Ladies, of Miſs Bloſſom's elopement with my Lord Random?’ ‘Not a ſyllable,’ ſays Emily. ‘Really! Good lack, I wonder at that, (re⯑turned he) for it's been all over the town theſe two hours.’ Lady Daſhit, ſomewhat inquiſitive, aſked the par⯑ticulars.

‘Only, Madam, (continued he) that Miſs Bloſſom has long had a ſecret [155] penchant for his Lordſhip, and that Random was dull enough not to ſee it; ſo that Miſs Bloſſom found her⯑ſelf under the neceſſity of declaring herſelf to him, in writing, in direct terms; that Lord Random im⯑proved upon the hint, and took her off in his chaiſe this morning, before the family was ſtirring.’—‘Why, really, (ſays Emily) I had a better opinion of Miſs Bloſſom.’ ‘So had I, Miſs Trevor; (returned Spatter) ſo had I, till this unlucky affair hap⯑pened; for, to be ſure, Miſs Bloſſom always preſerved a proper decorum; till ſhe found it neceſſary to wear a hoop.’ ‘Indeed! (ſays Lady Daſhit [156]to Miſs Trevor) how wonderfully ſtrange all this is!’

‘'Tis much more ſtrange to me, la⯑dies, (retorts he) that you ſhould not have heard of it before. I muſt re⯑queſt, however, that you will not quote me upon the occaſion; for Miſs Bloſſom is a young lady for whom I have the higheſt reſpect, and I would not, for the world, any thing ſhould get abroad to her diſcredit. I na⯑turally ſuppoſed that you muſt have heard what every one has heard, or my lips would have been locked; for it is a rule with me not to be⯑lieve half I hear; and what I do [157]believe, I am very cautious how I repeat.’ At this the ladies could not refrain from laughing to them⯑ſelves. ‘How, Sir, (ſaid Lady Daſhit) does Mr. Rattle take this?’—‘Mr. Rattle! (cries Spatter, recollecting) Mr.Rattle, Ma'am! You mean Colonel Ramble!’ ‘No, sir, (returned Lady Daſhit) I mean Mr. Rattle, for, I underſtand ſhe has long re⯑ceived his viſits.’ — ‘I never un⯑derſtood (continued Spatter, pon⯑dering, and rather unhappy at miſ⯑ſing, ſuch a piece of intelligence) that Rattle waited upon her. Co⯑lonel Ramble, indeed, pretends to be over head and ears in love with [158]her, though he never ſaw her above twice, (here the ladies expreſſed ſurpriſe) at leaſt he had intimated as much to me; and though he wears a cockade, if I was not ac⯑quainted with his tame diſpoſition, I ſhould fear the conſequence would be a duel.’

Emily, ſtruck with emotion, at theſe words and not being able to liſten to language ſo diſreſpectful and de⯑rogatory to the character of a gen⯑tleman, ſhe was pleaſed to think well of; upbraided Spatter with ſeeming to inſinuate a timidily in the Colonel, and ſaid, ſhe thought his affections were [159]engaged; but was that not the caſe, and he was warmly attached to Miſs Bloſſom, though he differs in ſenti⯑ments from the raſh young men of the age, I believe him to be a gentleman of too much ſpirit, not to reſent an affront. Spatter, who now found he had brought himſelf into a difficulty, ſtammered out, ‘No, no, Miſs Trevor, I don't ſay... You certainly, Ma'am, muſt have miſconceived me;—I would only be underſtood to infer, that Colo⯑nel Ramble is a man of gallantry, loves every pretty woman he ſees, and courts every girl he meets; and has too much world to draw his ſword for any of them.’ Miſs Trevor [160]could not but expreſs her uneaſineſs at this ſtory to Lady Daſhit, and was almoſt ready to faint.

Spatter expreſſed a great deal of con⯑cern, was ſorry for the confuſion he had occaſioned, was buſy with his ſmelling⯑bottle, but chuckled in his ſleeve, by having, by this emotion of Emily's, diſcovered her ſecret ſentiments of Ramble, which would furniſh him with a goſſiping tale for the whole week.—"So, ſo, ſo, ſo, (ſaid he to himſelf) Iv'e been doing miſchief here, there's more in the wind, than imagined! Ramble is not ſo indiffe⯑rent in this houſe as I conceived— Miſs Trevor, recovering, ſaid, ſhe [161]thought the Colonel had declared againſt a wiſe.

‘The declarations of young men, like him, (anſwered Spatter) are little more than wind; for my part I never regard any thing he ſays; Ramble's a good natured fellow, but entré nous, one of the moſt idle, diſſipated, unthinking, young men in the world. I have a great regard for him, and it hurts me exceedingly, to obſerve how he goes on; though he has made a for⯑mal propoſal to Miſs Bloſſom; to my certain knowledge, he is pay⯑ing his addreſſes to a young lady at the other end of the town.’—‘Sir, [162](ſaid Lady Daſhit, warmly) the leſs you ſay of Colonel Ramble the better. Miſs Trevor can't bear to hear his name mentioned.’

Spatter, ſtill at a loſs what to ſay, the whole being rather myſterious to him; wiſhing to get at the truth, but not well knowing how, and conceiv⯑ing Ramble had given Miſs Trevor offence, begged her pardon, for having ſtarted ſo diſagreeable a ſubject, and allowed that the Colonel was too incautious of offending.— ‘I muſt own, (continued he) that Ramble is apt to carry two faces.’ Here he was wrong again. Miſs Trevor's eyes ſparkled with rage; ‘You are [163]the only one, Mr. Spatter, (ſaid ſhe, with ſome warmth) that I ever heard ſay ſo; the reverſe is rather his character; he is too apt to ſpeak what he thinks.’—Spatter, more embarraſſed now than ever, with a kind of confuſed heſitation, replied, ‘I perfectly coincide with you, Miſs Trevor;—that is exactly what I mean—He carries two faces;— that is to ſay—a civil one to thoſe he is pleaſed to think well of, and a rough one to thoſe he diſlikes.’ Conceiving he had now reconciled words that had before offended, he ſtrutted about the room with a ſort of inward triumph, and ſelf-congratu⯑lation; then, turning about, added, [164] ‘Well, Ladies, I'll not treſpaſs upon you longer; if you have any com⯑mands to Lord Spangle, Lady Driveit, or the Miſs Gadabouts, I ſhall be proud to bear them. I ſhall ſee them all in my way home.’ With this he took his leave, ſaying to himſelf, as he hurried out, ‘If I don't make haſte, the news will reach them before I ſhall be able to tell it.’

CHAP. XIV.

RAMBLE being alone one morning, at his lodgings, his chariot at the door, waiting to take him out, received an unexpected viſit from Dangle, whom he had not ſee, ſince Spatter had ac⯑quainted him with his adventures at Miſs Trevor's. ‘You are a happy dog, Dangle, (ſaid he) I quite envy you. Careſſed by the men, admired by the [166]women, and admitted to ſuch tête-à-têtes as I would give my ears to enjoy!’

‘What was you doing the other night, at Lady Daſhit's? Report ſays you was let out at the parlour⯑windown, at day-break.’—‘My life for it, (ſays Dangle) that's one of Spatters lies; he's the greateſt liar in all Weſtminſter, and ſo uſed to lying, that he is ſurpriſed when he catches himſelf at ſpeaking truth. What he knows of this buſineſs he had from me, he can improve a ſtory as well as any man.’—‘And ſpread it too (returned Ramble): he came here full of it.’

[167] ‘I wiſh, (ſays Dangle) his evil ge⯑nius may not bring him into ſome ſcrape one day or other. I was there, 'tis true, and left the houſe rather late; nearer one, I believe, than twelve.’

‘Nay, it has got about, Dangle, that you was unpowdered, and in deſhabille.’ ‘That is carrying the joke too far, (re⯑torts Dangle) They may ſay what they pleaſe of me; but I cannot ſuffer Miſs Trevor's character to be trifled with.— I ſee, then, (replied Ramble) you can be nettled.’—‘Emily's a lovely girl, (adds Dangle) the object of my ido⯑latry; and I would cut any man's throat that dare traduce her. I wiſh, [168]Ramble, you would ſpeak a good word for me there; — ſhe has the higheſt opinion of you; for, with all my effrontery, damme, if I have aſ⯑ſurance enough to tell her how much I love her.’—‘And you wiſh me to do it for you, (ſaid Ramble)|?— You had better not truſt me. I have a parti⯑ality for Miſs Trevor, myſelf, and, of courſe, ſhall be a poor advocate for another. What would you ſay, now, if I was to rival you?’—‘You have too much honour, (anſwered he) for that.’—‘Egad, honour's but a feeble reſtraint, (obſerved Ramble) where love takes the lead. However, if it will be doing you a good office, Ill make a point of it.’ —Pleaſed as [169]Dangle did not forget to caution the Colonel not to commit him. ‘That pride of yours (ſays Ramble) ever ſtands in your way. If I can bring about the matter, never mind the manner.’

This buſineſs was but juſt ſettled, the ſervant announced Mr. Rattle and Mr. Saunter.—Rattle was an active, noiſy fellow, a buck of the firſt head, and always awake; his friend Saunter was the reverſe, an indolent, lazy, yawning chap, ever aſleep; ſo indolent, that he could ſcarce drag his legs after him. I can no ways account for ſuch men aſſo⯑ciating together, except it is, that [170]the character of one, muſt be al⯑ways a ſource of mirth to the other. ‘I ſaw your carriage at the door (ſays Rattle) and ſhould not have broke in upon you, but to beg your company to-morrow evening, at the Shakeſpear, where the Whig⯑club are to meet, and you will probably be entertained;’ ‘I am a very moderate man (ſays Ram⯑ble) but have no objection to go with you, if I find myſelf at liberty.’ ‘Why, where are you bound to (replies Rattle?)’ ‘—To the houſe (anſwered Ram⯑ble) of a fine woman,’—‘By all that's great (added Rattle) had you been with me, the other night, [171]at Convent-Garden, you'd have been charmed, with a girl that ſat in the box before me!—Such eyes! — Such a countenance!— Such a figure!—I never ſaw her equal. I could not find out who ſhe was.—Saunter was there, but half aſleep, as he always is, and loſt the ſeeing of what perhaps he'll never meet with —again.’ ‘My good friend (replied Saunter—yawning) the play-houſe is the only place where one can doze in your com⯑pany; for your damn'd rattle, whenever it is ſet a-going, is enough to rouſe a whole —neigh⯑hood.’ ‘What, ſleep in a play-houſe! (ſays Ramble) I ſhould think, Ned, [172]that the amuſements there would keep you awake.’ ‘That, (ſays Saunter) among other things, is a proof of your want of world.—No man of Ton ever goes to the The⯑atre, for the amuſements of that Theatre. Do you imagine a ſenſi⯑ble man, would open his ears to the whinings of a ſtage, or his eyes to its fopperies? Formerly there was ſomething to be heard and ſeen; now 'tis all trick, frip⯑pery, and ſing-ſong. No, no, Ram⯑ble, a play-houſe now is the fineſt after-dinner lounge that can be; where a man may take a nap without fear of being diſturbed by noiſy coxcombs and eteranl bab⯑blers.’

[173] ‘Saunter (ſays Rattle) is now aim⯑ing to be ſatyrical; he's too lazy to talk himſelf, and too ſplenetic to hear others talk.’—‘You'd bet⯑ter be ſilent (ſays Rable)—you'll ſtand no chance with Rattle,—Aye Saunter take the Colonel's advice, you can ill bear fatigue, and talking is almoſt as troubleſome to you as thinking.—Come, you may as well go with me to the Riding-houſe.’—‘With all my heart, return'd Saun⯑ter (yawning); for I have nothing to do.’

‘Saunter (ſays Rattle addreſſing himſelf to Ramble,) has a confort⯑able time of it; his work is al⯑ways [174]ways done; meet him when you will, he's at every man's ſervice, for (yawning and imitating Saun⯑ter's manner) he has nothing to do.—But we detain you Colonel— may the girl you are going to ſee be as kind to you as you wiſh.’