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LIBERAL OPINIONS, In which is continued the HISTORY OF BENIGNUS.

His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles,
His love ſincere, his thoughts immaculate;
His tears pure meſſengers ſent from the heart;
His heart as far from fraud, as heav'n from earth.
SHAKESPEARE.

WRITTEN by HIMSELF.

And publiſhed by COURTNEY MELMOTH.

VOL. IV.

LONDON, Printed for G. ROBINSON, and J. BEW, in Paternoſter-Row; and Sold by J. WALTER, Charing-Croſs.

MDCCLXXVI.

CONTENTS

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  • CHAP. LXVIII. BEnignus is unfortunate in his mimicry. —A beau makes his firſt appearance. —Courtſhip at church.—The ignorance of Benignus in the ways of the world, and ſome account of the great wiſdom of the beau, and his nice experience therein page 1
  • CHAP. LXIX. Which many will think matter of fact, and ſome imagination—a ſpecimen of Mr. Draper's talents and conſtitution 14
  • CHAP. LXX. A little of Benignus, and more of Mr. Draper. Their morning viſit to a great man 21
  • [] CHAP. LXXI. Containing the great man's character, and ſuch a ſcene as baffles abridgment, and would beggar extract. 31
  • CHAP. LXXII. Being to the full as entertaining as the former 33
  • CHAP. LXXIII. Which the editor recommends to men, women, and children 49
  • CHAP. LXXIV. Containing the heroiſm of Draper, and ſeveral childiſh events, which are very well calculated to make full-grown people of both ſexes weep; and which ſome worthy readers will laugh at 57
  • CHAP. LXXV. Containing a compariſon and the critical obſervations of a bailiff, touching the []nice affairs of reputation and prudence 67
  • CHAP. LXXVI. Which is ſo full of incidents, that it muſt be agreeable. 78
  • CHAP. LXXVII. Shewing Mr. Draper to be (in the language of the ladies) an angel of a fellow 85
  • CHAP. LXXVIII. Draper is, in this chapter, more angelic than in the laſt; with a dinner, a preſent, and the downfal of the taylor 90
  • CHAP. LXXIX. Exhibiting ſerious particulars of a battle 100
  • CHAP. LXXX. Which is ſubmitted to the determination of the fair reader, whether Mr. Draper is ſo much an angel of a fellow, as he appeared in Chap. LXXVII. 110
  • [] CHAP. LXXXI. Wherein is the ſpeech of a gentleman, with the reply of Mr. Draper thereto: as ſurpriſing a chapter as the laſt, and to which indeed it may be conſidered as a contraſt 117
  • CHAP. LXXXII. Draper improves again ſo faſt upon acquaintance, that it is to be feared, ſome readers will forget Benignus, and make the ſaid Draper the hero of the hiſtory 124
  • CHAP. LXXXIII. Wherein is a hair-dreſſing operation, during which Draper diſcourſes concerning modern delicacy and the paſſions 129
  • CHAP. LXXXIV. Containing extracts from the journal of a fine gentleman; but which will not, it is to be hoped, be credited by many readers 136
  • [] CHAP. LXXXV. Benignus relates a ſtory, illuſtrating the influence of habit, with ſome curious remarks on the college and the counter 146
  • CHAP. LXXXVI. Which conſiſts of love matters. 162
  • CHAP. LXXXVII. The introductory ſentiments of which ought warily to be read. Alicia, figures 167
  • CHAP. LXXXVIII. Contains the miſchiefs of miſtake; a revolution, altogether unexpected, and an adventure with an extraordinary perſon 175
  • CHAP. LXXXIX. In which is preſented to the reader ſuch a ſupper as he hath not been often invited to—Farther particulars relating to the extraordinary perſon who came into this hiſtory, with the preceding chapter 187
  • [] CHAP. XC. The extraordinary perſon's extraordinary converſation 193
  • CHAP. XCI. Wherein the extraordinary perſon diſcovers his name, and a great deal more of his character and conſtitution 198
  • CHAP. XCII. Which, if the reader loves novelty, he will ſmile at 204
  • CHAP. XCIII. Containing ſtrange tranſitions, in which the wonderful perſon makes his exit in a very wonderful manner 210
  • CHAP. XCIV. Being the propereſt chapter the editor can find to reconcile a pauſe to the reader, and put an end to the Fourth Volume, by promiſing a Fifth, &c. 215

LIBERAL OPINIONS, &c.
THE HISTORY of BENIGNUS.

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CHAP. LXVIII.

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

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

Never were the exteriors of two people more exactly contraſted than the exteriors of Draper and Spangle, the latter being the ſleekeſt, ſlimmeſt, and moſt ſhivering little creature, that ever "ſhuddered at a breeze." The chin was as ſmooth as the lips of a lady, and the limbs as unſubſtantially delicate as thoſe which belong to the greyhounds of Italy, and the tender proprietor of this perſon was juſt ſtepping into a milliner's ſhop, to recruit himſelf with Hungary water. We ſtopped him at the door, and I [8]ſhall give the reader, with all poſſible regard to truth, an abſtract of the converſation which now paſſed between Mr. Draper and his friend. And ſo, you would not come amongſt us yeſterday, ſays Spangle; you loſt much of your dearly beloved laugh, I can tell you that; we had ſome of the ſweeteſt ſport in nature: rather fatiguing, indeed, but the variety rendered it enchanting. Aye, indeed, replied Draper, how did you go on? This is no place, child, anſwered Spangle, to enter into the agreeable particulars; the next door is a coffeeroom, you ſee.—They went into the coffee-houſe, ſeated themſelves without ceremony, placed me in the middle, and thus Mr. Spangle, without any reſpect to the company in [9]the room, continued his narrative: Now, Draper, I muſt tell you, that it was a complete day of rattle and extaſy, and if my nerves had not been monſtrouſly in tune, I muſt have abſolutely expired of an exceſs of bliſs: never ſpent ſo exquiſite a day in my life, and a faſt day into the bargain!—Such a put of a parſon; but the organ made us amends; for we all went to the chapel, becauſe you know who always ſits in the pew facing the pulpit. What a pretty puritan it is! Lord Dazzle drew her eyes from the prayer-book more than once. Lovebook thought to attract her by his voice, and ſo read the Pſalms louder than the clark; ſir Charles Crazy focuſs'd her through an opera-glaſs; but, Jeſus! George, what [10]are all the tricks of arts, to the charms of nature!—I was only in—a mere undreſs—and made a conqueſt in half an hour. Really, cried Draper, with a very grave face! True, on my veracity, anſwered Spangle: about the middle of the Litany I made an impreſſion; the Epiſtle and Goſpel ſet her a trembling; the ſecond leſſon (that, you know, comes next) was ſomething about Peter or Paul, (I forgot which) marrying and burning; and this, as I fixed my eyes upon her, threw her into a celeſtial confuſion, as much as to ſay, that Spangle is a divine fellow!—at the end of the Communion, ſhe cried out with great fervour, Lord have mercy upon us! and before Orthodox had half done his ditty, which was all about the [11]obligations to charity — you know what a Jew he is—the ſmelling bottle was at her noſe, and in five minutes afterwards, as I now purſued my advantages, her face turned quite red; and, to my eternal honour, and then immortal triumph, I drove her fairly out of church. The congregation roſe to ſtare, the girl held down her head, as if ſhe had been doing penance in a white ſheet, tottered through the aile, as if ſhe would ſink upon one of the old ſtone tombs, and ſome of the people, methought, looked at me, as they would ſay, Yes, yes, Mr. Spangle—it's all over with her.—She's breeding, I ſuppoſe, for all her piety!

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

CHAP. LXIX.

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

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

CHAP. LXX.

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

The reader, it is hoped, is by this time ſufficiently acquainted with me, to be certain I did not allow the minute of his abſence to paſs by, without pouring forth the reflections that the tranſactions of the morning had excited. What a pair of precious fellows, ſaid I, are here: a ſeducer of the modeſt, and a receiver of the ſeduced. [24]One glorying becauſe his impudence drove a lady from her devotions, and the other in expectation of enjoying the benefit of the intrigue, ſhould it be ultimately ſucceſsful! Then the dark plot laid againſt the virtue of this young lady—the laſt lovely prop of her widowed mother, now mourning the loſs of a huſband. I ſhudder at the danger which hovers over the relicts of this amiable houſe—And yet how is the miſchief—how is the impending miſery to be prevented?

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

CHAP. LXXI.

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

CHAP. LXXII.

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

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

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

CHAP. LXXIII.

[49]

There are many occaſions where language is extremely inadequate to expreſs our ſenſations. The preſent was one of them. My anxiety, as Shakeſpear has it, "beggared all deſcription," and I was unable to tell my deteſtation, or my pity. As ſoon as Dodge had done, Draper roſe from his chair, with a ſedater ſet of features than uſual, and demanded Dodge's direction, which being obtained, he ordered Skain to ſend his fellow for a hackney-coach; and while it was gone for, he aſſumed a ſtill ſeverer look, and addreſſed the company in this manner. Do you [50]know now, gentlemen, that I look upon you as three of the completeſt ſcoundrels in the whole world, and not a pin to chooſe as to the raſcallity of either. Is this your combined juggle to torment a fellow-creature. If you were in my houſe, I would lead you all out by the noſe. Is this the practice of an attorney? Shame upon you! Why do I call you an attorney! Reptiles like you are the men who bring diſgrace and diſhonour on the profeſſion—you lay yourſelves out for every dirty jobb—encourage the trader in his uncompaſſionate reſolutions—involve both debtor and creditor, plaintiff and defendant, in ruinous and unneceſſary conteſt, and are the vile inſtruments by which men are often engaged in diſpute, who, without [51]your villainous interpoſition, would live harmoniouſly and neighbourly together.—Sir, anſwered Thrift, I am not uſed to this treatment, and I ſhall be tempted to bring my action, if— Action, raſcal! replied Mr. Draper, begone, and take care you don't tempt me to an action that may rob the gallows of its property. Well, well— very fine, very fine, upon my ſoul, cried Thrift, trembling and riſing, pretty uſage this, for a man of my profeſſion—however, it is well I am provided with witneſſes: pray hold yourſelves in readineſs, gentlemen, I ſhall ſummon you as evidences of the aſfault, and ſo, Sir, your ſervant! I'll do you over with a ſlip of parchment, I warrant you. As he opened the door, Dodge made an effort to ſteal [52]out with him, ſagaciouſly preſuming, that if Thrift was a ſcoundrel, he could not himſelf be thought an honeſt man: but Mr. Draper plucked him back by the ſkirts, and inſiſted on his taking his ſhare of admonition. And you, Mr. Mancatcher, cried Draper, by what ſtatute or clauſe in an act of parliament are you permitted to treat the unfortunate in this barbarous manner: what right have you to inſult a poor man and his family, by your looſe jeſts, ribaldry, and obſcenity? Who gave you authority to trip up a gentleman's heels, and by what licence is it, that you dare to make a riot and diſturbance at any perſon's door at all? Much leſs to continue there like an aſſaſſin all night. If it had been my caſe, ſirrah, I would have made no heſitation [53]of ſhooting you through the head, or running you through the body as a thief. Purſue your infamous avocation openly and fairly, but I will be at ſome little pains to ſee whether you are to turn houſebreaker, and knock a man down to get at him.

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

CHAP. LXXI.

[57]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAP. LXXV.

[67]

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

The loquacious humour, therefore, in which he was in, at Mrs. Darlingtons, when I ſet him down as a compound of laugh, whim, and liberty, was only the aſſumed diſpoſition of the moment, which he thought (perhaps juſtly) was better adapted to the ſprightly hour of breakfaſt, and the livelineſs of the ladies whom he viſited, than the dulleſt detail of morals, or the moſt formal lecture upon the beauty of holineſs. And this verſatility ſat ſo prodigiouſly eaſy upon him, and was an art ſo immediately upon the heel of nature, that nothing but the God of nature himſelf could know it to be imitation.

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

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

CHAP. LXXVI.

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

CHAP. LXXVII.

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

As Sudberry was now much recovered, [88]at leaſt as his pain very favourably intermitted, his lovely wife happening to ſit oppoſite a pier-glaſs, obſerving ſomething in the reflection, which brought an unuſual quantity of blood into her face, ſhe threw her eye over her children tranſiently, but ſaid nothing. I had, however, ſome little reaſon afterwards to believe this bluſh aroſe from that delicate conſciouſneſs which ſometimes we feel, from a ſenſe of wanting thoſe things which the world conſiders as the neceſſary furniture of every perſon who is admitted into a good apartment: namely, ſuch a ſuit of ſilks and broadcloth, linens and laces, as correſpond with the chairs and tables, cuſhions and carpets, plate and china in the ſaid apartment.

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

CHAP. LXXVIII.

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

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

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

Trifles light as air,
Are to the tender, confirmations ſtrong
As proofs of holy writ!—

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

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

CHAP. LXXIX.

[101]

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

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

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

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

As I knew Mr. Skain always paſſed for a bachelor, and as there was ſomething wonderfully unlike a wife in this lady, I was preparing a leſs gentle reply than ſhe might expect, when Skain prevented me, by riſing in a great paſſion; diſpatched his trembling groupe to their work, and demanded of the lady how, in the firſt place, ſhe dared to betray him, by leaving her chamber, which ſhe was articled to keep; and, in the ſecond, how ſhe had the impudence to call herſelf his wife.—Sir, ſaid he— this is, I find, a day, a curſed day, in which I am every way to be ruined: my poor character is to be torn to packthreads — I ſee it is—But fall [108]when I will, let me wipe off at leaſt one damage in my cloth — let me draw up one rent in my reputation. This woman is neither more nor leſs than.—He was proceeding to open the domeſtic budget, when the lady, to my utter aſtoniſhment, and without ſpeaking another ſyllable, lifted up a knuckle of Herculean ſinew, and applying it to the left temple of the taylor, brought him once more upon the ground. Now as I contemplated this mighty action, which I apprehended would be the laſt in which our taylor would be engaged, I contemplated likewiſe ſomething elſe; for from the arm which properly belonged to this ſtupendous knuckle, ſlew, in the heat of the battle, with vaſt violence of rebound, againſt my ſhoulder, [109]that identical picture, which while ſhe purſued her advantages, and was actually proceeding—agreeable to the maxims of war—to plunder the dead—having already one hand in the pocket of the vanquiſhed, I caught up, with dextrous eagerneſs, and having taken ſufficient revenge for the preſent, walked contendedly off, and left the lady to the pious office of finiſhing her work.

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

CHAP. LXXX.

The manner in which Mr. Draper related this ſtory of innocent recrimination—the dignity of the action, the miraculous recovery of the bracelet, and the pleaſant ideas he gave us of the taylor, and his lady, put the whole ſociety into ſo happy a humour, that few things could at that time have increaſed the general felicity.

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

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

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

CHAP. LXXXI.

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

Her pure and eloquent blood
Spoke in her cheeks, and ſo diſtinctly wrought,
That one might almoſt ſay, her body thought.

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

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

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

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

CHAP. LXXXII.

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

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

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

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

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

CHAP. LXXXIII.

[129]

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

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

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

CHAP. LXXXIV.

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

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

[138]
MONDAY.

Am to drive out Fanny in my new phaeton at twelve in the morning. To pick my teeth at Modemaid's, in Taviſtock-ſtreet, at three—dine at the Devil, at ſix—ruin Fairfame, the curate's daughter (to whom I have promiſed a living), at eight—trifle away a ten pound note with Toyman, at ten—ſup with Sanby—and ſleep alone.

MEMORANDUM.

Mrs. Spangle coughs conſumptively—my off horſe ſeems touched in the wind—he weezed as he trotted up Conſtitution Hill—Boxit ſhall teach me to hold forth in the the Houſe. [139]Bellow makes a great progreſs: is to make a ſpeech the next motion. N. B. Muſt turn off Mira—ruined laſt Tueſday: a fine animal. Have a good mind to have my roan mare ſhod with ſilver.

TUESDAY.

Curate's daughter cried all night— hate whining—turn her over to Sanby for breaking—no undoing Dickens —have been ſix times after her at chapel.—Muſt bribe Strawby—muſt get Blaze to baſtinado Brazen—the villain called me curd-cheeks, at Ranelagh—muſt gild his cudgel with five guineas.

MEMORANDUM.
[140]

Lady Lydia leers at me. They ſay ſhe's modeſt—muſt, therefore, make her one of us. Am well with her huſband—wants my Fan. —exchange is no robbery—caught Fan. without a tucker—deteſtable indecency! Muſt preſent her to my friend. N. B. Wife gets yellowiſh. Jealouſy ſhakes hands with conſumption. Dropſy deſtroy the elegance of my ancle, if I interrupt the attachment!—Wit in that laſt obſervation.—Am going to be a patron—Dactyl dedicates Greek verſes to me.—Periſh the whole Grecian alphabet! But as 'twill be ſuppoſed I underſtand it, ſhall ſend twenty pieces to the fellow. Chapel, Sunday; [141]ſhift my patch nearer the left cheek-bone. Eight hairs fell from my eye-brow, on my paper, as I was writing an invitation to Mrs. Glaze. Mean to undo her. Surely 'twas a judgment. Orthodox a curſed preacher.—

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

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

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

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

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

CHAP. LXXXV.

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

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

[148]
SIR,

I have prepared papers relative to your monies in the funds, with accumulated intereſts thereupon, ready for inſpection, together with all other matters of truſt, committed to me by your late guardian. I was extremely ſorry to hear of the deceaſe of that gentleman, and ſhall be extremely glad to wait upon you in ChanceryLane the firſt opportunity. Meantime am,

Sir, Your moſt humble ſervant, ARCHIBALD PARSONS.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAP. LXXXVI.

[162]

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

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

From my office, ſeven o'clock, almoſt half paſt, — Square, Ann. Dom.

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

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

CHAP. LXXXVII.

[167]

It is an obſervation of the great Plato, or of ſome other famous philoſopher, that if a man of perfect benevolence and virtue ſhould come upon earth, he would be cheated, impriſoned, ſcourged, and crucified; and upon the whole, more ſcurvily treated, than if he was the ſlyeſt hypocrite that ever impoſed upon poor ſimplicity. Now, though I am very far from thinking I have any pretenſions to the perfect benevolence of which this author ſpeaks; yet, without vanity, I may be allowed to poſſeſs ſufficient to intitle me to as large [168]a portion of abuſe, and ill-treatment, as if I had been one of the beſt men breathing. In the beginning of this narrative, the reader was told the deſign of viſiting London. Since my arrival there, hitherto, it ſo happened, that I rather obſerved the manners of men, than made any formal reſearches after happineſs. The reader is, as yet, only preſented with the principal adventures of a very few weeks; and, as I did not retire from ſociety till the thirty-ſeventh year of my age, am now relating the tranſactions which happened ſo early as in my ſixteenth year, and was engaged in the great ſcene of life all that tedious interval, containing the enterprizes of almoſt twenty years, he may be alarmed into the dread of never getting to the [169]end of my book. Let him not be alarmed, it is not very probable that I ſhall live long enough to write myſelf out: nor is it intended to trouble him with a recapitulation of all the misfortunes and indignities which brought me here: for that would indeed be an endleſs labour: the principal paſſages only will be related, and whoever is in poſſeſſion of them, whoever is the firſt traveller after my deceaſe, will find the manuſcript parted into ſo many diviſions, that if he be a ſkilful editor, he will publiſh to the world only juſt as much at a time, and juſt ſuch a quantity, upon the whole, as he deems moſt intereſting and moſt inſtructive: for whoever reads any part thereof, merely as a book of amuſement, will by no means [170]promote the great moral end with which a man, now languiſhing in a foreſt, undertakes it. Thus much by way of introduction to the future parts of my hiſtory, which henceforward will exhibit ſcenes and circumſtances of a far darker colour, and more intricate impoſition.

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

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

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

CHAP. LXXXVIII.

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

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

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

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

CHAP. LXXXIX.

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

CHAP. XC.

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

With thee converſing, I forget all time,
All ſeaſons, and their change.

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

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

CHAP. XCI.

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

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

CHAP. XCII.

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

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

CHAP. XCIII.

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

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

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

CHAP. XCIV.

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

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

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

END OF VOLUME THE FOURTH.
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Zitationsvorschlag für dieses Objekt
TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 5380 Liberal opinions upon animals man and providence In which are introduced Anecdotes of a gentleman By Courtney Melmoth pt 4. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-5E5B-6