CHAP. XV.

RATTLE called on his friend Ramble, and took him with him to the Shakeſpeare; the mem⯑bers had aſſembled ſome time; they conſiſted of a motley group of all claſſes, all complexions, and all na⯑tions. The chair was filled with old Noiſy, a man of ſome conſe⯑quence [4]in the opinion of the ſociety, and more ſo in his own; he was one, who had long been the bell-weather of the flock. A man, with a ſullen countenance, and hanging eye-brows, that prevented his eyes declaring the miſchief brooding in his heart. He hated Kings and King's-men, but it was only becauſe he was not on the liſt himſelf. This man had been ha⯑ranguing the company for near an hour and an half, and had not done yet. He was, when Ramble entered, on the ſubject of republicaniſm. ‘Monarchy, (ſaid he) could only be the invention of tyrants, who wiſhed to enſlave the people, and make them [5]ſubſervient to their own purpoſes. If kings had no ſuch wiſh, what were they? Idols, puppets, to whoſe office was annexed a troubleſome, and ridiculous—nay, I may call it, a blaſphemous ceremony, aſſuming that homage, that ſhould be paid only to the Deity; an office to which the good ſenſe of the people is ſacrificed, and a million of their money yearly. Why are we, gentlemen, to work hard?—Why is the honeſt ſhoe-ma⯑ker, the taylor, the button-maker, the turner, and a thouſand other re⯑ſpectable tradeſmen, to deprive their wives and children of comfort and neceſſaries, to cloath, amuſe, and [6]pamper a gilded puppet? 'Tis true, I have no wife nor child, at leaſt ſuch as I would call ſo, but never⯑theleſs I feel for you all.—God knows my heart—I ſpeak not from private intereſt. Whether we have a king or no king, it is all the ſame to me. I have no money, that I care a fig for. What I win to day, I loſe to-mor⯑row, and what I may loſe to-morrow, I may win the day after. To a ſingle man, life's a lottery. He is the child of fortune. The world contributes to ſupport me. One feeds me, another cloathes me, and if I cannot pay them, in caſh, I will in breath. No man ſhall ſtop may mouth. Words are the only things I have to give, and I will [7]never ſpare them. If they choak my utterance above, I will pour them forth below. A f—t for them all. I care not who leaves me, or who keeps with me. I can ſtand without ſupport, aſk mother A—, ſhe'll vouch for me. I have no wife or children but you; it is for you, and you only, that I have ſtruggled through life, and for you I will ſtruggle, whilſt I have lungs and ſpirits.—In ſhort, gentlemen, you are always ſure of me. I am a republican all over; will oppoſe depotiſm, vi et armis, and fight for your intereſt, pe⯑dibuſque manibuſque.’

‘Till I am in place; Mr. Preſident, I ſhall nae [8]think that adminiſtration conſults its own intereſt; they ought to ha their freends aboot them,’ (ſays Saunders Macpherſon a brawny Scotch-man, who ſat impatiently waiting for an opportunity of vent⯑ing his ſarcaſms ‘It would be happy for his maajeſty, if au his freends were as muckle in his in⯑tereſt, as Saunders Macpherſon, who has travelled in his kirtle far o'er the Highlands, in defence of pre⯑rogative. An ye had any diſcern⯑ment, you would ken the bleſſings of the preſent eſtabliſhment. Be⯑fore our good Jamie ſat on the throne of this country, ye were aw a parcel of raggamuffins, like the [9] Sans Culottes at Paris, running your heeds againſt each other, in ſearch of a ſcurvey laſſie, ye call leeberty, who has played you mo⯑nie a ſhrewd trick. She ſhewed you a bonny viſage, to mack you in loov wi her, and then turned her ragged breech upon you. It was oor Jamie that taught you to be weeſe; he took the dirk out of your hands, that you might not cut your fingers, and let you ken that happineſs was in aw your reach. Has not he and his ſuc⯑ceſſors given ſic encouragement to trade and commerce, that you may, if you pleaſe, indulge your luxuries, nay your very veeces? [10]Ha they not put you in the way to get ſic penty of pouns, that you may throw them awa and be nae the poorer? for what you lack in caſh, you find in credit. There's yon bonny chield, Johnny Latitat, that will tell you the ſame; he will tell you that he has mair pouns, than he kens what to do wi. Where then, in the name of St. Andrew, is there cauſe of grum⯑bling? Why winna you be content? Money appears of ſo little value, in the preſent, happy times, that each man ſeems to ha mair of it than he wiſhes, or he winna part wi it ſo reedily. We are aw ſenſible of the condeſcenſion of oor [11]government—Are not the king's meeniſters ready for a little of this ſtuff, which is of nae value, and which we ſeem to ſet nae ſtore by, to gee us permeeſſion to uſe oor aine jades, to employ our aine ſer⯑vants, to breathe the freſh air, and enjoy the leeght of the day? And that we may nae want a quantity of money to pay for ſic indulgencies, what can be maer conſiderate than to leemit our amuſements, and keep us frae ſpending our time idly? That gued hearted man Ja⯑mie, departed frae his aine fertile country to take up his reſidence in South Britain, where your fineſt pro⯑ſpects, without a mountain, are nae [12]mair to be compared with the proſpects of the North, than a laſſie, with fine eyne and good complexion, but without and noſe in her face, is to ane who has every ſtriking feature. You may tell us that he was glad to get into the South, that he might taſte your peaches and your nectarines, and your other fine fruits; but in gued troth, where would ha been ſic fruits, but for the gardeners of North Britain, who are as far prefera⯑ble to the fruits, as the creator is to the created. Every country has its boaſt, England may have a good cleemet for peaches and nectarines, it may excel in arts, as France [13]does in wine, Arabia in horſes, and Spain in wool. But I declare by St. Andrew, no country can produce better men and women than Scot⯑land; they are oor ſtaple commodity; they are au men of learning, and we export a great number to en⯑rich other countries. Even Lon⯑don is the better for them, and you ought to be thankful, that our Jamie led the way. Had he been weeſe and ſteed in his aine country, you would now ha been as ſavage as your anceſtors, but he removed; himſel here, made London the capital of Scotland, and held his court at St. James's, which is lit⯑tle better than an hoſpital; when [14]he might have figured away with more ſplendor and comfort in Holy⯑rood houſe, in Edinburgh; ſo that do ye ken maeſter preſident, Jamie coming to London, brought au our nobeelity and gentry here too; and here they are ſpending their eſtates among an ungrate⯑ful rabble. What would England ha been, but for the union?—She has grown wealthy; ſhe has acquired a million and a half of freends, that would otherwiſe ha been her enemies. She has ac⯑quired ſecurity. There is no door open now, by which the French can penetrate your country. They dare as ſoon be d—n'd as attempt [15]to invade Scotland; ſo that if you can but defend your own coaſts, you may bid the de'el kiſs your weem. Yet, ye are au grumbling; ye are nae grateful nor contented, but ye want to pull down your monarch, and be⯑come as ſavage as your forefathers. In guede troth, Mr. Preſident, we are under great obligation to gevern⯑ment, and ought to be very proud oſ our king.’

‘That dunderhead, Mr. Chairman, that rails at all meaſures, that do not accord with his inclina⯑tions,’ (ſays Neddy Turncoat, a ſtout, tall man, who had once been of another way of thinking than when he roſe up to ſpeak, and [16]who then took the part of oppo⯑ſition, becauſe he thought oppoſition was on the eve of getting into place) ‘That dunderhead, (ſays he) diſco⯑vers very little ſagacity, and can have no retroſpect to the excellence of the Britiſh conſtitution. He is a mere creature of his own fancy, and illumined only by the glare of a de⯑ceitful meteor, the ignis fatuus of a ſhallow mind, that leads him into bottomleſs bogs, and over dreadful precipices. The man who lifts his hand againſt the preſent government, reminds me of the giant in Mother Gooſe's Tales, who, in the intem⯑perence of his wrath, tore up a vaſt oak by the roots, and brandiſhed it [17]in his hand, crying, Fee, fau, fum, I ſmell the blood of an Engliſhman! I am a plain man, Mr. Chairman, and love to uſe plain word; and; when I ſpeak of the conſtitution of this country, I ſpeak the language of a plain citizen, not verſed in oratory, or bred in the ſchool of rhetorick. When I ſpeak of the three eſtates of the realm, the King, the Lords, and the Common, I approach the Com⯑mons, with reſpect, the Lords with deference, and the King with awe. I conſider each as a check upon the other, and each incapable of doing any harm; but, collectively, it is like the tria in uno, where the whole com⯑bined, is perfect; and where one [18]power cannot act, but in union with the other two. All muſt be wrong, or each muſt be right. Whoever, then, ſhall gainſay this trinity, is a blaſphemer of the ſtate, an incendi⯑ary, a ſeditious fellow, running about with a torch in his hand, to ſet fire to the conſtitution. He is a ſecond Guy Faux, attempting to blow up both houſes of Parliament; a wretch, that covets only, as do that deſpe⯑rate aſſembly on the other ſide the water, to embrue his hands in his country's blood. And, after all, was the Genius of this iſle to withdraw its patronage, and exclude it from the orb of its influence; was a revolu⯑tion to take place, a ſubverſion of [19]things to enſue, and the reverend Biſhops degraded, and made to ſtarve, as do the French Prelates, in a fo⯑reign garret, upon ſix-pence a day; was the dignity of the peerage to be trampled on, and their auguſt houſe laid in ruins; in ſhort, was our wiſe and keen-ſighted monarch tumbled from his throne; theſe miſcreants, that bellow forth equality, theſe fire-and-faggot men, theſe incendiaries of the ſtate, theſe murderers of the peace and happineſs of mankind, might have their wiſh; they might huzza, and trample over the devaſta⯑tation they occaſion; but what would it all tend to?’

Order, Order, Order! [20]was vociferouſly called for, by the op⯑poſition part of the room, and Patrick O'Conner, an Iriſhman, was louder than the reſt.— ‘I beg lave, Mr. Preſident, (ſaid he) to call the jontleman, that ſpoke laſt, to order; and to tell him a little bit of a ſecret; that thoſe who contend for leeberty, are neither torch-carriers, incendiaries, nor mur⯑derers; that Patrick O'Conner, that is to ſay, my own ſelf, is one of the leeberty-boys in Dublin; but, though I was born in that city, I am, never⯑theleſs, d'ye ſee, an Engliſhman. It matters not at all where a man is born; he is not a horſe, becaſe he was born in a ſtable. Our principles, Mr. Preſident, are to overtrow arbitrary [21]power, tyranny, and inſolence; and little Patrick O'Conner will never be wanting in his part, whilſt he is able to wield a ſhilelah. Let me tell you, that our conſtitution is no conſtitution at all, at all; that the law was given, as Tommy Paine ſays, by a rogue of a conqueror, whoſe name I have forgot; and it would be well for this country, if the Dukes and the Lords of Manors, d'ye ſee, forgot it too; we ſhould have no ſuch ſquabbling about a ſilly hare, or an inſignificant partridge. The feudal ſyſtem, Mr. Preſident, which, by the bye, is a ſyſtem of oppreſſion, was introduced by this ſame con⯑queror; and the government, in that [22]man's hands, was a government of deſpotiſm. When he parcelled out the lands, which he took from their right owners, among his banditti, he gave the ſtaff out of his own hands; for, in a ſhort ſpace of time, inſtead of one tyrant in this country, there were many—fait, and you may ſay that too, there were two or three hundred. Theſe men governed in⯑ſtead of the King, and gave one of the Henry's, I am told, (the De'el burn him) leiſure to play the ſame game in Ireland, and enſlave our dear, ſweet country, as well as his own. The conſequence of this, Mr. Preſident, was, that inſtead of Kings ruling the Barons, the Barons ruled [23]the kings, and were far greater tyrants than he who created them. Upon this, d'ye ſee, the Kings of England took the alarm, and called an aſſembly of the people, that the na⯑tion might not be over-run with ariſ⯑tocrates; but theſe over-bearing fel⯑lows, I underſtand, did not part with all their power, but ſaid to the Com⯑mons, If you ſit in one houſe, to take care of yourſelves, we will ſit in another, to take care of ourſelves, and the King, God bleſs him, ſhall ſit in a houſe alone, be his own Preſident, and take care of himſelf. So that you ſee, Mr. Preſident, here are your tree eſtates of the empire, as that jontle⯑man ſays, who ſpoke laſt, and was [24]called to order. So that we are all now to take care of ourſelves; and by my fait and conſcience, Patrick O'Connor will be the firſt to do this. In ſhort, it appears to me, that theſe tree eſtates, with the privilege of interrupting each other, have the great power of doing noting at all. What, then, is this mighty conſtitu⯑tion we boaſt ſo much of? A mere bubble. The people, it is true, have, in ſome meaſure, acquired the aſ⯑ſcendency, have mollified and filed down, d'you ſee, the knots and rug⯑ged points of the cudgel held over them; but the cudgel, like my ſhila⯑lah, is ſtrong, and tough enough to make them ſmart. We have [25]We have heard gentlemen a great deal.—You may talk of your pri⯑vileges till you are tired. I ſee none equal to that of being at leeberty, to ſtop a fools mouth. By St. Patrick, I wiſh I had the ſtopping of all your mouths, you would then talk a little more to the purpoſe. —If you are for levelling, why do it by halves?—If you level one ting and not another, d'ye ſee, it will be like hill and dale—there will be be no equality. I'm for overtrow⯑ing the whole together. Down with the lawyers; let us truſt to ourſelves. Down with the churches; we can pray in our cloſets. Down with the army; we can fight our own battles. Down with the whigs, and down with [26]the tories, and we ſhall be all of one party. This will be ſomething like an equality, and then, he who has the ſtrongeſt arm, will claim the biggeſt ſhare.’

‘It has always been the ſtudy of adminiſtration, Mr. Chairman, ſince I have known what adminiſtration is, (ſays Jack Latitat) who was one of the company, to do good to ſo⯑ciety, and conſult their eaſe, their happineſs, and intereſt. I defy any man, within his own memory, to de⯑ny the truth of this aſſertion. Poli⯑ticians may differ in opinion, and op⯑poſe; but that oppoſition, if they would ſpeak their honeſt ſentiments, riſes only from jealouſy, at their not be⯑ing employed in the affairs of go⯑vernment, [27]and from envy of thoſe who are employed. Look to all the acts of the ſtate, and tell me, if they have not a good tendency; and that if any meaſure has not anſwered the ex⯑pectation of parliament, it has not been immediately altered. There is nothing I ſee to complain of, but an in⯑judicious expenditure ſometimes of the public money; and why may not this be the caſe as well under a repub⯑lican government, as in the preſent ſtate of things? I admit that the in⯑fluence of the Miniſter in the Houſe of Commons, is an evil that requires to be remedied, but the remedy lies with the people. If the electors of this kingdom would be ſteady and [28]firm; lay down certain rules for their repreſentatives to follow, and deter⯑mine to elect no man, who ſhould de⯑viate from the inſtructions he receives; one who has any apparent connec⯑tion with the Upper Houſe, or, who holds any place under government; the evil by ſuch perſeverance would in time ceaſe: but the electors are ſuch blockheads as to ſell themſelves, and then wonder at being ſold. This brings me, Mr. Chairman, to the ſubject, I was called on to explain, by the Scotch gentleman in the corner. He ſays, money ſeems to have little value, and that I can tell you the ſame. There is a kind paradox in [29]this. Seldom do we meet with any thing of intrinſic value, but it carries that value in its face or appearance; not ſo in money: that it is a thing of ineſtimable value is evident, for to what lengths will not men go, to get poſſeſſion of it? They will run into every exceſs, into every abſurdity, and into every vice. They will ſwear, flatter, vilify, abuſe, cheat, play the fool, ſpeak the truth, lie ſquander, ſcrape together, plunder, nay even murder, to acquire it. Get money, if you can, honeſtly (ſaid a writer of an⯑tiquity) but, however, get money; and when they have with great pains got it, what do they with it, but [30]throw it away on things of little or no value? The origin of all this ab⯑ſurdity is, that the age is vicious and unprincipled, that men are looked up to, not for their abilities, their ſer⯑vices, or good works, but for their property and wealth. See a man paſ⯑ſing by meanly clad; tell your friend that man is worth 100,000l, and he ſtares at him again and again; but tell him there goes a good man, or there goes a man of great abilities, and he paſſes unnoticed. Now, as the eyes of all men are turned upon riches, and that man is, coeteris paribus moſt reſpected, who has moſt money; every man tries to outvie his neigh⯑bour [31]and to make the beſt appear⯑ance he can.’

‘Under this notion he lives beyond his income, and thus lives a great deal upon the credit his tradeſmen give him; he ſpends that money for them, which they have not the ſpirit to ſpend for themſelves. Tradeſmen in this caſe are not to be pitied; it is only the biter bit. What leads men in trade to give uncommon credit, but to induce fools and ſpendthrifts to deal with them, and to enable them to demand an inequitable and enor⯑mous profit? All ending in the love of that pelf, which, when they have [32]got, they rather throw away than make a proper uſe of. Extortion thus robs itſelf, and verifys the old pro⯑verb, Graſp all, loſe all. I am one who is up to all this; I ſtudy to pu⯑niſh the extortioner; in doing this, I enjoy many of the good things in life, which would otherwiſe eſcape me. There is an old law ſubſiſting by preſcription, that puts a rod in the hand of the extortioner to puniſh thoſe who attempt to puniſh him. I mean the law of arreſt. This is doubtleſs a law of oppreſſion; and, owing to the great chicanery of this law, might overcomes right, thou⯑ſands of villains get their bread, and one man can trample upon another. [33]But government profits by this vil⯑lainy, and ſuffers it to go on. This, like the venality of parliament, is an evil that calls loudly for redreſs; but, it does not follow, that a new ſyſtem of government is neceſſary on this. account or any other. Indeed, the laſt evil I complain of (I mean the Law of Attachment,) is no evil to me. I make a virtue of neceſſity, have the myrmidons out of the purſes of thoſe who employ them. Upon the whole, Mr. Chairman, the go⯑vernment is no great eye-ſore to me; the evils of life I reconcile to my⯑ſelf, paſs by the indifferent, get out of the way of the worſt, and ſcram⯑ble [34]through them as well as I can.’

Latitat, caſting his eyes on his friend Ramble, puſhed his way up to him, ſaid, he preſumed he had heard non⯑ſenſe enought for one night, and took him away.

CHAP. XVI.

THE Colonel had been in town ſome weeks, and had heard nothing of Miſs Raſpe, but ſtill had little to ap⯑prehend; having, when he left Scot⯑land, [35]given her full directions how to find him; and having ordered Flint to make a rapid march to Liverpool, to reconnoitre the enemy's camp, watch; their motions, and when he could gain intelligence of Mr. Raſpe and his daughter leaving Liverpool, to make the beſt of his way to London, and ac⯑quaint him with it. Flint had a deal of ſly cunning about him, and was very adequate to the taſk, nor had the Colonel reaſon to fear he would throw himſelf in Mr. Raſpe's way, ſo as to alarm his ſuſpicions.

Bridget, Lady Daſhit's waiting-wo⯑man, never loſt ſight of the ſcheme ſhe had planned, of impoſing Dangle's va⯑let on her miſtreſs, in the character of [36]a gen⯑tleman in order to get at her fortune, and divide it between them; for this purpoſe ſhe was frequently with him at Dangle's lodgings, when his maſter was out. I will, therefore, lay before my readers a further dialogue of this hero and heroine, as taken down upon Tom's examination. You muſt mind now (ſays Bridget when they next met), how you act, and take care not to be⯑tray yourſelf. I have prepared my Lady to receive you ſome morning, of which I will let you know the day be⯑fore. Mind now, you muſt not be ſlob⯑bering and kiſſing her, all the time you are there, as you do me; ſhe's a mighty woman for decency and decorum. An occaſional kiſs, well-timed, is all that [37]is neceſſary; I ſhall contrive to be pre⯑ſent, at leaſt ſome part of the time, and watch your motions. Mind—you are to be Sir Thoma Flam; I have told her you have a great eſtate in Yorkſhire; 2,000l. a year; be very generous as to ſettlements and all that: and you may do what you pleaſe with her.

Tom. Suppoſe I ſhould be known by any of your fellow-ſervants.

Bridg. I'll take care that William ſhall be out; and I don't believe you are known to any one elſe; after the firſt interview you may appoint to meet her at any other place. (Tom admiring himſelf) You muſt not be admiring your⯑ſelf, but admire her, ſay all the tender things you can.

[38] Tom. Let Tom alone for that; I be⯑lieve he has as much to ſay to the wo⯑men, and knows as well how to pleaſe them, as any gentleman in town.

Bridg. Come let's ſee how you'll be⯑gin; practiſe a little upon me.

Tom. We ſhall be interrupted.

Bridg. Don't be afraid of that;— (looking round) I ſee no one in the way.

Tom. Well then, I'll begin thus, with a diſtant bow; (bows affectedly) and then I'll advance with a reſpectful look— and with—happy, my dear Madam, is Sir Thomas—What's my name?

Bridg. Flam.

Tom. Ay, Flam.—Happy, my dear Madam, is Sir Thomas Flam in the opportunity you have been pleaſed to [39]indulge him with, of throwing himſelf at your feet, (kneels, and takes Bridget by the hand) and declaring how much: he adores you.

Bridget. And is that the way you mean to begin? I thought a lover at the firſt meeting always ſaluted his miſ⯑treſs; I would not give a pin's point for any other introduction.

Tom (ſtill kneeling) I am coming to that.—And permit me in the warmth of my paſſion to approach your ſweet lips, and ſay, (kiſſes her warmly) I could dwell on them the whole day.

(Bridget breaking from him almoſt breathleſs). This I think will do; but don't imagine, Tom, that when you are married, I ſhall ſuffer you to be inatten⯑tive [40]to me. If you have any fondneſs for her afterwards, I ſhall be as jealous as the devil; for my great failing is, that I love you too well.

Tom. My dear Bridget—never doubt me—you ſhall have all my affections and—half her money.

CHAP. XVII.

TO give my reader a farther inſight into Spatter's character, whoſe ly⯑ing diſpoſition often brought him into hot water; I will lay before him a dia⯑logue that paſſed between him, Rattle, [41]Dangle, and Saunter, one morning in a retired part of St. Jame's park, as it was related to my friend Will the next morn⯑ing. Rattle, Dangle, and Saunter were firſt together walking; Rattle aſked Dangle, among other things, concern⯑ing the ſtrange tale that was all the town over,—"Yes," (adds Saun⯑ter, with his uſual ſpleen, yawn⯑ing, as if he had been up all night, and ſcarce able to keep up with his compa⯑ny,) ‘that you was turned out of ſome girl's houſe for daring to make a pro⯑poſal to her.’—‘No, no, (ſays Rat⯑tle) that's not the ſtory, how was it Dangle?’—‘You are pleaſed, Gen⯑tlemen, (returned he) to be very merry at my expence—there was no [42]turning out in he caſe, nor any pro⯑poſal thought of.’—‘That I'll be ſworn, (ſays Rattle, addreſſing him⯑ſelf to Saunter) for he never had reſo⯑lution to propoſe to any woman.’—‘Nor, if he had, (returned Saunter) would any woman liſten to him. He has not addreſs ſufficient to draw at⯑tention.’ This nettled Dangle, and he retorted upon Saunter, ‘Was I bleſ⯑ſed with your vivacity (yawning and dragging his legs after him, in imita⯑tion of Saunter) and rhetoric, I might perhaps ſtand a little chance.’ ‘I had rather be aſleep all my life (re⯑plyed Saunter) than be treated with the contempt the girls treat you with.’ Dangle now grew warm, [43]ſaid, ‘the whole was a trumped up af⯑fair, and not a ſyllable of truth in any part of it.’—‘Nay, (ſaid Rattle) Saunter's my author,’—(and Saun⯑ter) ‘Spatter's mine.’ Spatter at this inſtant joined them. ‘Did not you tell me Spatter, (ſays Saun⯑ter, laughing) that Dangle was turn⯑ed out of ſome girl's houſe, for daring to make a propoſal of marriage to her?’ Spatter now was gravelled. He firſt eyed Dangle, then Saunter; conſcious of having ſaid ſo, and knowing it was falſe, he knew not how well to bring himſelf off. But as thoſe who are continually telling lies, are al⯑ways on the look out for reſources to excuſe themſelves; Spatter cries out, [44]ſtarting, and lifting up his eyes, ‘Me!— Lord, Lord, how ſtories are pervert⯑ed by carrying!—What I ſaid was with a view of raiſing Dangle in the opi⯑nion of his friends;—he,—you know is ſaid to want reſolution,—and I...’ ‘Sir?’ (replies Dangle, angrily, and interrupting him) Spatter ſtill at a loſs how to proceed, continued, ‘Reſolu⯑tion, I mean with reſpect to the wo⯑men. —How you take me up!—That is to ſay, you wait upon them for years, and trifle with them. Now, I wiſhed to have it known, that is by no mean the caſe.—On Saunter's ſay⯑ing, Dangle will never get a wife, for the women deſpiſe him,—I beg your pardom, ſays I,—I beg your pardon, [45]many a girl would be glad to have him, but he is a man of diſcernment, and will not tie himſelf where he is not likely to be happy.’—‘Did not you (returned Saunter, ſtaring in Spatter's face, with a look of reſent⯑ment) Did not you ſay that he was turned out of doors?’ Spatter, who now began to wiſh himſelf any where but where he was, replied, ‘You ſhall hear what I ſaid, if you have but pa⯑tience.’ (Rattle continuing Saunters method of addreſs) ‘Ay, and that they ſlapped the door in his face?’ And Saunter again, without ſuffering Spatter to reply, ‘and that he was forbidden to come there any more?’ Spatter, now loſing all temper, cried ‘No,—no,— [46] no!’—(uttering each no with a degree of increaſed vociferation). ‘It is im⯑poſſible gentlemen to go on, if I am to be ſo interrupted!—(then lowering his tone), Let me ſee,’—recollecting himſelf,) ‘Where was I?—Oh! that Dangle was a man of diſcernment, and would not fix where there was not a proſpect of happineſs—where there was not a proſpect of happi⯑neſs:’ ‘ſo far (ſays I) from his trifling with the women; to my certain know⯑ledge he made a propoſal of marriage the other day to a very reſpectable lady, whom I could name, if I thought proper, but with whom he could not ſucceed, from an unconquerable aver⯑ſion ſhe had to him’ Here Rattle [47]laughed heartily at Dangle, and cried ‘Go on Spatter,—let's have it,—all the women hate him.’ Saunter, who was half aſleep at this part of the ſto⯑ry, but who was rouſed by Rattle's noiſe, ſtarts, and cries, ‘How, how? I loſt that—’—‘Where's the won⯑der? (ſays Rattle to him)—Why, was not you awake?’—Dangle now addreſſed himſelf to Spatter, ſeriouſly aſking him, ‘what he meant by repre⯑ſenting things ſo falely; told him he was a mongrel, between ill nature, and falſe art, and might be well claſſed with theſe creatures, whom God never made. What averſion, (conti⯑nued he) could ſhe have to me?’ Spatter now grew warm, and declared, [48]he never ſaid any ſuch thing; ‘how can I go on (ſaid he) with the rela⯑tion, if you break in upon me ſo often? —I ſaid unconquerable averſion to, it—that is to matrimony; winking at Rattle and Saunter) I could never ſup⯑poſe any woman could have an aver⯑ſion to you; No, that would be unna⯑tural (ſneering and ſaying to himſelf) I muſt get out of this d—m'd diffi⯑culty ſome way) averſion to it were the words, that is, to marriage, for unac⯑countable as it is, ſome women are averſe to it. There's Lady Bab Squeamiſh, and many more I could mention of the ſame turn:—and that this lady to whom you propoſed, re⯑queſted time to conſider of it;—that [49]was all. Upon my ſoul, gentlemen, if your ears are ſo treacherous as to miſlead your underſtandings, I muſt lock up my mouth in future. Saun⯑ter, are you for the billiard table?’ ‘I am, (ſays he, yawning,) agreeable to any thing.’—‘For, (continues Rattle, imitating Saunter,) he has nothing to do. Saunter is a man of great buſineſs, and is jaded to death every day with doing nothing. Eating, drinking, ſleeping,—every thing fatigues him. He is too lazy even to put his own cloaths on.’—‘Don't call it lazineſs, (ſaid Spatter) you do him wrong; it is a philoſophic indolence, the work of a mind, wean⯑ed from all the purſuits of life.’— ‘[50]No, no. (returned Rattle) it is a con⯑ſtitutional idleneſs. So idle is he, that I believe, if he was under the neceſſity of working for his living, he would ſuffer himſelf to periſh with hunger.— —You are a lazy fellow, Spatter, but you love to talk; but even talking tires Saunter.’—‘I wiſh, (returned Saunter to Rattle) talking tired you. I will own to you that there is not any thing ſo tireſome to oneſelf as an idle life; but the leſs a man ſays, the leſs nonſenſe he broaches, and the leſs tireſome he is to others. Verbum ſapienti; if the cap fits you, Rattle, wear it.’—‘Come, Gentlemen,(ſays, Dangle,) don't let us be ſparring here; let us adjourn to the table, and [51]try if we can get into better humour.’ Saunter dropping his hat, begged of Rattle to pick it up for him. ‘Not I, (ſays Rattle) you have nothing to do, you know, and therefore may ſtoop for it yourſelf.’ He then applyed to Dangle for the ſame purpoſe. ‘Rot me if I do,’ (ſaid Dangle). He aſked Spatter, but Spatter alſo re⯑fuſing, was obliged to ſtoop for it himſelf; but did it with that difficulty attendant upon indolence: and picking up his hat, he dropped his ſtick, which he thus addreſſed, ‘I won't be at the trouble of ſtooping again for you, however; you may lie there till the next perſon comes by; and if he picks you up, he'll deſerve you.’

CHAP. XVIII.

MY friend Will, who, in the goodneſs of his heart, having been ſecurity, for one of his acquaintances, for the ſum of 500l. ſigned a bond in judg⯑ment for the ſame, was now called on, in a hoſtile manner, for the money; and not being maſter of that ſum, was arreſted, and his goods taken in execution. With a degree of im⯑prudence, on a preſumption that he ſhould marry Miſs Raſpe, and in order that he might have a place to bring her to, he took a houſe in London, and furniſhed it elegantly, and thus ſtripped himſelf of the beſt part of his ready [53]eaſh. He had ſome ſecurities, as I have mentioned, which his father left him; and he meant to raiſe money on the ſame, not only for himſelf, but for his friend Charles Simple. That young gentleman, however, having ſettled his matters with his wife's father, ſtood not in need of it; of courſe, Ramble, having, as he thought, ſufficient for his preſent exigencies, deferred making any application for more; and not be⯑ing provided for this unexpected call, was hurried away to the houſe of a ſhe⯑riff's officer. Spatter ſoon heard of it, haſted to Lady Daſhit's with the news, and meeting with her lady⯑ſhip, and Miſs Trevor together, ‘Bleſs me, Ladies,’ (ſaid he, almoſt out of [54]breath) ‘I have the moſt unfortunate piece of news to tell you—the moſt unlucky circumſtance’... The ladies were alarmed, and Lady Daſhit inter⯑rupted him with ‘not very bad I hope?’—‘Bad? (returned he)— Poor Colonel Ramble!—I am ſo diſ⯑treſſed, I hardly know how to ralate it.’ Miſs Trevor was ready to faint, and ſaying, in a low voice, ‘ſhe hoped nothing had happened to the Colo⯑nel.’ Lady Daſhit, wiſhing to ſmo⯑ther it, ſaid, ‘No, not to Colonel Ram⯑ble,’ and ſaid to Spatter, ‘For God's ſake don't mention the Colo⯑nel here.—(and winking at him) You have nothing to tell us about Colonel Ramble?’ But he, not taking the [55]hint, went on, ‘It is all about Ram⯑able —had it happened to any other perſon, it would not have affected me.’ Miſs Trevor, rather recovered, enquired if he had met with any acci⯑dent, any fall, or wound. ‘No, Ma'am, (ſaid Spatter) he has not fallen into a bog, nor into a mill-pond; that would be nothing; there would be ſome hopes of getting him out from thence;—but he has fallen....’ At theſe words Miſs Trevor had near⯑ly fainted a ſecond time, and Lady Daſhit could not help ſaying to Spatter, ‘See what your fooliſh tongue does.— I'll lay my life, after all, it is nothing of any conſequence. (adding angrily) Where has he fallen?’—‘Into the [56]hands of the lawyers!—(ſaid Spatter) Is that of no conſequence? Rot me if I would not as ſoon have fallen from a houſe-top.’—‘That, (return⯑ed Lady Daſhit) I long expected. You fee, my dear Emily, (ad⯑dreſſing herſelf to Miſs Trevor who was now in little better ſpirits) how this mighty accident turns out, at which you were ſo much alarmed.’ ‘I am, anſwered Miſs Trevor, of Mr. Spatter's opinion, that a man cannot have a worſe thing hap⯑pen to him, than to fall into the hands of the lawyers.’ ‘So, ſay I, Miſs Trevor (returned Spatter) ſo ſay I.’ ‘Be kind enough (ſays Miſs Trevor) to tell us the par⯑ticulars, [57]I am anxious to know them!’—‘I thought you would (re⯑turned Spatter)—that made me hurry ſo faſt here; I have not ſtop⯑ped at any one place, ſince I heard it; but to drop a hint of it, at Lady Bab's, and at another houſe or two in my way.’—‘That is to ſay (obſerved Lady Daſhit, aſide) totrum⯑pet it all the town over.’ Miſs Trevor (with a well diſpoſed heart remarked) that if he was in any difficulty, it muſt have been good-nature, that brought him into it; but Spatter with that rancour, that led him to miſconſtrue the beſt actions, replied: ‘What you are pleaſed to call good-nature, I [58]call folly. His good natured ac⯑tions ariſe from oſtentation. I would take care of myſelf, before I thought of others. Self-preſervation, is the firſt law of nature, and he that does not attend to it, deſerves no pity.’—‘If I have not been miſ⯑informed, (ſaid Miſs Trevor) you, Mr. Spatter, have experienced the good effects of his attention.’—‘Aye (added Lady Daſhit) and a grateful man, will never forget paſt ſervices.’—‘Don't apprehend Lady Daſhit (retorted Spatter ſnearingly) that I am under any obligations to Colonel Ramble. What he has done for me, were mere acts of civility. No, Madam, I have always taken [59]care to avoid being under obliga⯑tions to a man of his ſtamp.’—‘Well (returns Miſs Trevor) we will not enter into that. I wiſh only to know his preſent ſituation.’—‘Un⯑willing as I am (anſwered Spatter) to enter into this unhappy affair of Ramble's; for, with all his faults, I have a regard for him; (and I hate goſſiping mortally) I cannot but obey your commands. 'You muſt know then, ladies, that the Colonel was imprudent enough to be ſecu⯑rity for Sam Careleſs, to extricate him from a difficulty. He entered into a bond of 500l, Sam has left him in the lurch, Ramble is ar⯑reſted on the bond, and an execu⯑tion [60]is ſent into his houſe!—that's all.’ Miſs Trevor obſerved, it was but a trifling ſum to a man of his for⯑tune.— ‘Trifling as it is (returns Spat⯑ter) it has lodged him in a ſpung⯑ing-houſe.’ Lady Daſhit aſked him, if he meant to call on him there; obſerving, it would be humane in his friends to do it now. Spatter ter ſaid, he would not ſee him for the world. He had to great a regard for him, and it would affect him too much. Beſides, his time was too much taken up.— ‘I have more than twenty places to call at, this day; could ill ſpare the time to ſlip in here, only I was eager to acquaint you with the news;’— [61](and, as Lady Daſhit obſerved to Emily, aſide) ‘leſt any other ſhould do it before him.’

Miſs Trevor was quite unhappy at this account, and was deter⯑mined, if ſhe could contrive it, ſo as that the Colonel ſhould not know from what quarter his releaſe came, to ſend the money for his diſcharge.

When a man falls into the hands of the Lawyers he cannot, generally ſpeaking, ſurely fall into worſe hands. Putting the attornies out of the queſtion, I have often conſidered, with myſelf, and endeavoured to [62]reconcile with juſtice, the profeſſon of a barriſter. Does he not plead the cauſe of equity, and does he not help thoſe out, who cannot or could not plead for themſelves? Some, I will admit, do, but ſome do not. If a barriſter would act conſcientiouſly, take up no cauſe till he has well examined it, and not argue in its defence, unleſs there is legal, honeſt ground for ſo doing, he would be a praiſe-worthy cha⯑racter; but, when a barriſter will take up any cauſe that is propoſed to him, right or wrong, it reverſes the caſe. It is the misfortune that, barriſters never ſee their briefs till they are retained; and, when [63]once retained, if they do not ex⯑ert themſelves in defence of their clients, whether this client be an honeſt man or a villain, they are cen⯑ſured in their profeſſion, and are ſure to loſe the favour of the attornies that employ them. Now, he that has the moſt buſineſs at the bar, is, all things conſidered, a worſe man, and a worſe member of ſociety, than if he had leſs eminence; for the more cauſes a barriſter is engaged in, the more injuſtice he does. The man, who has the happy facility of converting truth into falſehood, of explaining away right, and making the beſt ſtand againſt juſtice and equity; is ſure to have [64]the moſt briefs. If he knows how to brow-beat an evidence, perplex and puzzle him, ſo as to make him ſeemingly contradict himſelf, and is maſter of ſuch fallacious ar⯑guments as will miſlead an unin⯑formed, ignorant jury; he is deemed clever, and reckoned a good orator; (for ſuch, I am ſorry to ſay it, is too much the oratory of the bar,) and buſineſs will flow in upon him faſt. His diſtinguiſhed abilities make the attornies in a bad cauſe, fly to him in preference; and thus, of twenty cauſes, he is likely to have eighteen bad ones to de⯑fend. Now, if he, who father's a lie, and promulgates it, as we have [65]ſeen Spatter do, is equally criminal with the fabricator or inventor; he, ſurely, who takes up a bad cauſe, is equally criminal with the party who employs him. There may be ſome plea in favour of a man who eſpouſes ſuch a cauſe from error of judgment, from falſe conception, or from ignorance; but there can be none for him who takes pay to plead in behalf of the oppreſſor, and to the injury of the diſtreſſed. Such a one is a mercenary hireling, an aſſaſſin, and robber of the un⯑fortunate; and ſo far from being commendable, like the ſlanderer we have ſeen, he deſerves execra⯑tion by all good men; and the [66]ſo, in proportion, to the abilities he has of perverting judgment, and the power he poſſeſſes of doing it. His eminence at the bar is a colla⯑teral proof of the baſeneſs of his mind.

It is, under this idea, that in Sweden, and ſome other countries, a man is obliged to plead his own cauſe; the profeſſion of a barriſter being there held in ſo odious and contemptible a light, that no gen⯑tleman, will take it up; the execu⯑tioner in Sweden is a far more re⯑ſpectable character. Putting the im⯑morality of the profeſſion out of the queſtion, its civil turpitude, is [67]there held too great to be any way countenanced. If a barriſter, though retained, would dare to throw down his brief, when he finds his cauſe a bad one, it would render him an exalted character; and ſhould he, by this mode of conduct, be at the the receipt of leſs money, he would have more reputation, would de⯑ſerve what he earns, and enjoy it with credit and an unappalling conſcience.

CHAP. XIX.

THOUGH Spatter thought proper to deſert his friend in diſtreſs, it was not ſo with Rattle, Dangle, and Latitat. Rattle and Dangle, not know⯑ing where to find Ramble, flew to his houſe, then taken poſſeſſion of by a ſheriff's officer; who; when they enter⯑ed, was ſmoaking a pipe with a tan⯑kard in his hand, comforting himſelf with the good birth he had, and ſay⯑ing there was plenty of ſtout in the cel⯑lar, and he hoped the gentleman would not be able to make up his affairs while that laſted. Rattle and Dangle came together, and, on enquiring if [69]any of Colonel Ramble's people were in the way, was anſwered by this ſurly fellow, "No." Attempting to go into ſome of the inward rooms, the officer ſtopped them with ‘Hey, hey! Where are you going? I am maſter of this houſe, and there's no admittance for you. I am placed here to ſee that nothing's carried off, and there⯑fore, ſhan't truſt either of you out of my ſight.’ On their ſaying they wiſhed to ſee the Colonel, and aſking, where he was; this fellow replied, ‘At the lock-up-houſe in Chancery Lane, where, I believe, you'll find him any day this week. After this if you want him, you muſt look for him in the Bench.’ ‘The [70]King's Bench you mean,’ ſays Rat⯑tle. ‘Aye, (returned the officer) the King's Bench, I ſuppoſe you know the place; it won't be the firſt time you have been there, I dare ſay.’ ‘Ceaſe your impertinence, friend, (ſaid Dangle) we ſay nothing to give you offence.’ ‘Marry (retorts the fellow) there's no cauſe to be angry; many an honeſt gentleman has lodged in that place, and many a noe will again. When they're overwhelmed with debts, they go there to pay them.’ ‘You mean (ſays Rattle) to retrench their expences?’—‘I mean no ſuch thing, (ſaid the of⯑ficer.) I have known a man live as well there, as in any part of the [71]kingdom, keep as good a table, and as genteel an equipage; and, in term⯑time, at liberty to go as far any day as he pleaſes: and, what's the beſt of it, all this at the expence of other people.’—‘True, (replied Dangle) there is ſome pleaſure in that con⯑ſideration; and, (aſide to Rattle) What a dry dog it is?’ ‘You ſay in Chancery Lane?’ (ſays Rattle.) ‘Yes, (replied the fellow) in Chan⯑cery Lane, hard by the pump, where the lawyers drink in non-term.’ Dangle, obſerving to Rattle, that things wore a ſtrange face to what they did a few hours ago; Rattle cried, ‘Pugh! he'll be out again to⯑morrow; and nothing adds more to [72]a man's credit, in the police world, than to have an execution or two in his houſe. There's my Lord Squan⯑der has had eleven at one time; he puts the fellows into livery; they line the paſſage as his company paſs, and cut a very reſpectable figure. A friend of his ofſerving to him one day, that the had an uncommon ſuite of ſervants; his anſwer was, that he was never without them." It re⯑quires contrivance only to make diſ⯑grace faſhionable. You know how Latitat glories in writs and arreſts.’ Scarce had he ſaid theſe words, but Latitat bolts into the room; his coat frogged with writs, and a bunch of them in his hat, by way of a cockade. He [73]paſſed by Rattle and Dangle, run up to the officer, and ſhook him by the had, with ‘Hah, my friend Spunge, how goes it?’ The officer here was all humility and reſpect, enquired how his Honour did; aſked him to drink, and alſo to walk into any apartment he pleaſed. And, why all this? be⯑cauſe Jack was in fee with all the ſhe⯑riff's officers in London. Having paid his reſpects to this man, he turned to his friends, ſaying, ‘You ſeem to ſtare at all this; that's becauſe you are not up to it. I have ſuch a reſpect for ſheriffs officers, arreſts, and writs, that you ſee I am cloathed in them.’ ‘I make it a rule never to pay a [74]bill till I am arreſted. So you ſee what a patriot I am, and how much I ſtudy the good of my coun⯑try. Shew me the man, among all your acquaintance, except myſelf, who will pay two guineas inſtead of one, in order to increaſe the reve⯑nue of the ſtamps. The eaſy credit-giving world, don't like much trouble. Was I to pay a bill on being aſked to do it, it would not anſwer my plan. I never diſcharge an account without being ſued. I endeavour to deal with thoſe only who dread the law; but when I am arreſted, I pay, and then only; and if, upon ſuch occaſions, I pay a little more than I otherwiſe [75]ſhould, a ſecond ſatisfaction hangs to it. With all my ſmattering for trade, you know I hate keeping accounts, and filing receipts; and when I pay the accommodation-fee, I conſider myſelf ſafe from being obliged, as many are, to pay the ſame bill a ſecond time; for a writ and its diſcharge, is a receipt in court.’—‘You are, (replied Rattle) my dear Jack, one of the happieſt fellows of the age. You extract virtue from neceſſity, enjoy what would be the diſaſter of thouſands, and ſcramble on through life, as you call it, without a ſcratch or a pain.’—‘It would do your heart good, Rattle, (continued he) to come and [76]ſee my veſtibule; I am now fitting it up, and, though you will ſcarce believe it, I buy the hangings of the lawyers.’—‘Hanging it, (ſaid Dangle) with old parchments I ſup⯑poſe?’—‘Not quite ſo bas as that, (retorts he) my hangings are ſuit⯑able to the expenditure and figure of a man of 2000l. a year. There's not a ſquare inch that coſts me leſs than a guinea; and by the time I have hung the whole room, it will coſt me ſome thouſands. I ſhall do it, however, at laſt, my boy, (exult⯑ing) and then I ſhall immortalize my name. Every writ I am ſerved with, I tack up againſt the wall, leaving one end looſe, and it gives [77]me rapture, when the window is open, to ſee them ſhivering, and hear them rattling in the air: the muſic is divine. I ſwing myſelf round, and enjoy the ſight. A deſcendant of the oldeſt Britiſh family, could not be prouder, in an ancient hall of audience, of the trophies of his pro⯑genitors.— Haec ſunt inſignia mea!— Theſe are my banners—the glorious atchievements of my anceſtry. It would delight you to ſee how I ſtrut about in hoc veſtibulo meo. I call it my court of requeſts, my audience-chamber, where I receive embaſſy's from the crown. D—mn me, if I believe there is ſuch another room in the three kingdoms. Come, [78]Gentlemen, you ſeem to be idle, ſuppoſe I go and ſhew it you?’—

You had better get into Parliament, ‘(ſaid Rattle) it would be cheaper in the end, though you paid a few thouſands for your ſeat.’—‘Pſha, man, (returns he) that would fruſ⯑trate my whole plan, there's not a fool that would truſt a member of parliament, now, with five pounds. That time's over—the Houſe of Commons is not what it was; there are ſo many mercenary and poverty⯑ſtruck fellows, now get themſelves elected, that this honourable houſe is loſing credit daily.’

The reader will indulge me here [79]with a few remarks on the law of ar⯑reſts. To what do they tend, but to the injury of ſociety? The deſign of attachment, was merely to prevent the defendant from eſcaping, whilſt the matter againſt him was under litigation: if he can give ſecurity for his appearance, it is all the law re⯑quires; if not, he is held in cuſtody, to wait the event. So far it is poli⯑tical; but the cauſe being ended, an execution following, if the defendant has no property to pay the debt, why conſine his perſon, take him out of ſociety, throw his family upon the pariſh, and deprive the ſtate of his la⯑bours? Does it pay his debts?—No! —The execution might ſeize his pro⯑perty, [80]and if there be not ſufficient to diſcharge the debt and coſts, he ſhould be obliged to pay the remainder at ſome future time, which, by giving him his liberty, he might be able to do. As things are now, the debtor is confined, his credit ruined, his fami⯑mily beggared, he waits for an in⯑ſolvent act, and his creditor loſes his money. The manner in which the law can harraſs a debtor, may frighten ſome men from running into debt, but it hardens others, and puts them on their invention, as it has done Jack Latitat. But the greateſt evil ariſing from arreſts, is the abuſe of this law, and the many villains it creates. Many a hundred pettifoggers there are, [81]who have no reſource for a mainte⯑nance but this. They retain a number of runners, (to whom they give half their fees) to find out litigious men, and raſcals, that have fraudulent and ficti⯑tious claims upon the property of others, accompanied, perhaps, with a ſpecious claim of forty ſhillings, but which, under fair diſcuſſion, might be diſ⯑proved. Whether theſe claimants have any ſubſtance or not, provided the de⯑fendant has, it is all they want. They undertake to carry on the cauſe for them, prevail on them to ſwear to debts not exiſting; arreſt the defend⯑ant; not ſuffer the plaintiff to be met with; run the cauſe to iſſue, and the defendant either then proceeds to trial, [82]or, not knowing what ſuch villains may there ſwear to, is induced to pay a certain part of it into court, which is accepted, and the cauſe ends: but with the expence of 20l. or more to the defendant; beſides all the diſ⯑grace and trouble of the arreſt. Nay, there are men that will go farther. Such attornies, in hopes of having the mat⯑ters compromiſed, and getting their coſts paid, will ſerve writs and run the riſk, if the defendant is a man of ſpirit, and determined to go on with it, they will drop the cauſe at iſſue; and ſhould the attorney get nothing from the defend⯑ant, he will, if poſſible, from his client, and the defendant has his own attor⯑ney to pay, perhaps, 15 or 20l. This: [83]might be recovered of the plaintiff, if he could be found, or was worth pow⯑der and ſhot, but he is a pauper and not to be met with. Both the attornies however have profited, and the defend⯑ant has been the chief ſuffere.—To ſhew how dangerous ſuch men are in ſociety, take the following anecdote.

An attorney ſeated himſelf in a country-town, where he thought there was a good opening; no attorney having taken poſſeſſion of the place. He had a ſmall independenoe of his own, but the people there being of a peaceful diſpoſition, he had little or no buſineſs, and his own money not being ſufficient to ſupport him, he [84]told a friend, one day, that he ſhould be under the neceſſity of removing his ſituatiions, for the inhabitants of that town were ſo d—m—d peaceable, that he could not live amongſt them. Be⯑ing a pleaſant fellow, and his friend, unwilling to loſe him, he gave him this advice; "Bring ſome other attorney to ſettle in the town beſides yourſelf, and my life for it, you'll find your ac⯑count int it." He took the hint, ano⯑ther of the fraternity was invited there to reſidence; diſſentions were thus raiſed among the people, and the two attornies go a very good living.

Was there a law enacted, that every attorney ſhould give ſome thouſand [85]pounds ſecurity to the public, on his admiſſion, and if he was nonſuited in any cauſe, be obliged to pay the coſts himſelf; he would take care never to engage but in a good cauſe, or oblige his client to give him ſecu⯑rity for thoſe coſts, in caſe he failed in the action. This would prevent a a great number of vexatious and liti⯑gious ſuits; and if there were fewer raſcally attornies, there would be more peace and happineſs in ſociety,

CHAP. XX.

MISS Trevor found means to free Ramble from his confinement. She found out the officer, and got a friend to carry him the 500l. and the expences, without ſaying where it came from; and my friend was at full liberty, without the ſatisfaction of knowing who was his liberator. He was exceedingly deſirous of finding it out, and took uncommon pains ſo to do.

No ſooner was he at home, than he received the congratulations of his friends, and thoſe of Spatter in parti⯑cular [87]who flew to him with feeming rap⯑ture, crying out, ‘My dear Colonel, I have been all the town over in ſearch of a friend to extricate you from the difficulty your good heart threw you into; and with that view I have told your ſtory to all my acquaintance; but I am happy to find the buſineſs is done without me. It was d—m'd ſhabby of Careleſs to draw you in to.’...‘I don't ſee it in that light, (replied Ramble) poor fellow, he would have paid the money if he could, and as he could not, it was, and is, my wiſh to do it for him.’—‘Yes, (returned Spatter), but the diſgrace of it! ’—‘Diſgrace it can⯑not be; (ſaid Ramble) A man [88]ought never to be aſhamed of ſuf⯑fering in a good cauſe. He who fears to encounter a diſſiculty for a friend, ill deſerves to have one.’

If I may be allowed to ſay any thing in addition to thoſe of my friend Will, upon the occurrences he met with, I will here take the liberty of laying before my reader a character I have met with, too common in life, but being mixed with the world at large, is often loſt in the crowd, and not noticed. This is that of a man who purchaſes a good name from the two lower claſſes of people, which, indeed, is the maſs of men, able to ſtamp a character with reſpect or diſ⯑reſpect, [89]for they are the greater part of the people, and it is too univerſally believed that what the world ſays muſt be true. If a man but pays his debts when called on, is free with his money, and puts up with no indignity, he is, in the eye of the preſent age, a man of honour, and a gentleman. His moral character is ſeldom enquired into: he may get drunk, keep as many whores as he will, and be the greateſt libertine uncenſured. Such a man will have much longer credit than others, and treadeſmen will be more obedient to his call; for it is ſelf-inte⯑reſt that leads mankind, and even warps their way of thinking. I knew a gen⯑tleman of ſmall fortune, but who had [90]a fuffielent income to pay all his tradef⯑men; he was an economiſt, and not void of principle. I heard this gentleman, once chide his wife, ſoon after mar⯑riage, for paying a bill unaſked. It is time enough (ſaid he) to pay when two or three bills have been ſent in. He did not act on the principle of Latitat, who, by witholding a debt due, made intereſt of the money, but acted on the idea that it is right to do as the world does. Nothing, (con⯑tinued he) is ſo unfaſhionable as to call for a tradeſman's account. If you make it a rule to do this, you may be called a good pay-maſter, but you will be vulgar in the extreme. This gen⯑tleman did not plead want of caſh, but [91]was never at home to his tradeſmen; he kept a lying fellow at his door, who, after many years importuning gained them acceſs to his maſter, only by the preſentment of a fee. But yet this gentleman when he did pay, never exa⯑mined the particulars of a bill, let it be of ever ſo long ſtanding, but refer⯑red only to the ſum total, and paid like a gentleman. ‘Your honour will pleaſe to obſerve (ſays the obſe⯑quious tradeſman) that I have charg⯑ed every artiele at the loweſt price, and I hope your goods pleaſed.’—‘I am perfectly ſatisfied, (ſaid the gentleman) and think myſelf much obliged to you.’ The money paid, they part, one with ſeeming gratitude, [92]the other with profeſſions of future employ. I was once with him when he paid his taylor a long bill of ſix years ſtanding, the amount of which was 370l. he looked only at the ſum total, and on my enquiring when the taylor was gone, whether he never ex⯑amined into the article of a bibl. ‘Articles? (retorted he) Z—nds, if I looked at them, I ſhould go mad; for my taylor is as great a raſcal as ever lived. I would not deal with him, but he gives me long credit.’ This credit, if he managed his little fortune well, he would not want, and if he paid his taylor yearly, whilſt the artickes were in remembrance, he would ſave 30 per cent; but to be thought faſhion⯑ble, [93]he choſe to have faſhionable credit, and be thought a man of ho⯑nour. He had lived long enought in the world to know, that a good name is eaſily acquired by purchaſe, and there⯑fore he bought that good name. He was liberal to the poor in his neight⯑bourhood, not from a principle of charity, for he gave away indiſcrimi⯑nately. I went with him once to a public houſe in his village, to aſk ſome queſtions of the landlord. It was winter, and three or four impudent country fellows were ſitting round the ſire with their hats on. One of them ſaid to the reſt, loud enough to be heard, leering with his. eye, and put⯑ting out his tongue, ‘Twig the [94]Squire.’ This did not diſconcert him; he ſtopped any further diſreſpect by ſaying to the landlord it was cold weather, pitied thoſe who were obliged to work abroad for their living, order⯑ed him to make thoſe lads at the fire, a three ſhilling bowl of good warm punch, and begged they would drink his health. No ſooner was the pur⯑chaſe made, than the article reſpect was immediately delivered. The fel⯑lows no ſooner heard him give this di⯑rection to the landlord, than they jump⯑ed from their ſeats, with ‘Won't your honour pleaſe to come to the fire?’ and, on quitting the houſe he obſerved to me, ‘You ſee how readily a few ſhilling ſoften down roughneſs of [95]man⯑ners, and inſolence of behaviour, into complaiſance and reſpect.’ Paſſing a turnpike with me one day, in his own pariſh, he gave the toll⯑gatherer a ſhilling, with ‘I don't re⯑collect having given you any thing to drink a long time.’—‘This man, (ſaid I) is one of your tenants, I preſume?’—‘I ſcarce know his name, (replied my friend) but I ne⯑ver forgot to fee him. It is no bad thing to have a good name at a turnpike, and eſpecially when a looſe ſhilling will get it. A traveller, who has heard of your, and who perhaps, has not exerciſed his tongue for ſome time on the road, will take an op⯑portuity of doing it where he can, [96]and ſond of enquiries in ſtrange places, may, on paſſing this gate, aſk if Squire ſuch a one does not live ſomewhere about here. Oh, yes, (returns the man) his honour lives not far off. He is a worthy genetle⯑man. And this character is pur⯑chaſed.— It is a pity things ſhould be ſo, but ſo they are, and the old agage is too often verified. No longer pipe, no longer dance.’

CHAP. XXI.

FLINT had been in town a fort⯑night, night, and had brought an account that Mr. Raſpe and his daughter had left Liverpool the day before him; but, as the Colonel had received no letter from Miſs, he concluded they muſt either have ſtopped at the houſe of ſome friend in the road, or that Miſs Raſpe had not found an opportu⯑nity of giving him notice of it. He had been writing a note to Miſs Trevor, to introduce himſelf on Dan⯑gle's buſineſs, and he diſpatched Flint with it.—The letter was to this effect:

[98] ‘Colonel Ramble's beſt compli⯑ments to Miſs Trevor, and having ſomething for her private ear, ſolicits the indulgence of half an hour's con⯑verſation. If agreeable, and ſhe is diſengaged, he will do himſelf the honour of paying his reſpects to her to-morrow at two.’

Flint, though he had travelled twenty miles this morning, was not fatigued, or our of ſpirits; but ſet off with his maſter's letter with alacrity, and brought him word that he had deli⯑vered the letter; but that Miſs Trevor was not at home.

I can't paſs, unnoticed, and accident [99]that happened to Flint, to ſhew the danger and villainy of a London mob; I can ſcarce ſuppoſe it the ſame in any metropolis but in this. Every little, unuſual occurrence draws together a crowd of people to enquire into the cauſe, and the pickpockets take the opportunity to rob the bye-ſtander of his purſe, his watch, his handkerchief, &c. Proceſſions, a fire, a battle be⯑tween two men or boys, a woman faint⯑ing, a drunken man, an accident of any kind is ſufficient to call the atten⯑tion of a London mob, and draw the people together; and the vagabond-thieves are ſo numerous and deſti⯑tute as induſtriouſly to fight pretended battles, and create incitements to [100]a mob, that they may have their wiſhed-for opportunities. Careful and cautious people are aware of this, and take pains to avoid a crowd; but the thoughtleſs and inconſiderate will ruſh eagerly into one, and become the ob⯑jects of plunder.—Flint, in his way from Lady Daſhit's, got into a hob⯑ble, that had nearly ended with much worſe conſequences than it did. Though he had a good deal of foreſight, not being well acquainted with London, he was not up to all the tricks of ſharpers and pickpockets. He loved a buſtle, and was fond of running into every crowd he met. At Charing-Croſs, a drunken fellow with a pipe and tabor, had called together the [101]idle and the vagabonds, and a pretty ſmart mob was collected: theſe are the times when thieves and pickpockets watch their opportunity to diſburthen thoſe who are encumbered with any little matters about them.—Flint was the foremoſt in this mob, and a fic⯑titious battle taking place, he took ſome pains to inſpirit the com⯑batants.— ‘Well done Scarlet Jacket, —Mind your eye, Bandylegs—throw your blows in ſtreight and thick—hit him in the bread-baſket—keep him at arm's length.’ Such were the terms of the pugiliſtic art in which Flint, in intimating to the combatants, was very vociferous. Whilſt the corporal was thus engaged, [102]a baker's boy ran up againſt his coat; Flint's, attention being thus called off, a raſcal ſtepping forward, induſtriouſly wiped off the flour from his coast, and whiſpered in his car to take care of an ill-looking fellow near him, or he would loſe his handker⯑chief. Endeavouring to ſave this, the fellow picked his pocket of his tobacco box; another behind him, ſtole his cap, whilſt a third tread⯑ing down the heel of his ſhoe, kicked it off, and thus robbed him of his filver buckle. Endeavouring to reco⯑ver his ſhoe, he loſt his watch, got his head broke, and narrowly eſcaped being charged with being a pick⯑pocked himſelf, being dragged to a [103]horſe pond and ducke. He ſcram⯑bled and fought his way through the mob, as well as he could, and com⯑forted himſelf, when out of danger, with having delivered his maſter's let⯑ter. ‘Arrah, by my conſcience, (ſaid he) if theſe be your London tricks, Flint will be match for you an⯑other time; he will carry nothing about him, and then you may ſteal it and welcome.’ There was ſel⯑dom a circumſtance that happened to him, but he communicated it to his maſter, but this ſtory he was afraid to tell, leſt he ſhould be laughed at, and called a fool for his pains.

Chap. XXII.

BUT, we muſt not omit to relate what paſſed at Lady Daſhit's, when Flint delivered his maſter's letter.

Bridget had prepared her Lady to receive Tom's firſt viſit, who had pro⯑cured a ſuit of cloaths that fitted him well; but, being unuſed to a ſword, it was frequently between his legs, and nearly throwing him down. Tom was ſhewn up by a ſervant, who had received Bridget's orders to admit no one into the room, till Sir Thomas Flam was gone. This was a neceſſary [105]precaution, leſt he ſhould be acciden⯑tally diſcovered.

Tom was brought in a chair, and, being uſhered up into a room, Bridget firſt gave him the meeting, with ‘Who'll ſay, Tom, you do not look like a gentleman now?’ turning him round, and admiring him; ‘your are Sir Thomas Flam all over!’—‘Yes, (replies Tom) I think I know how to put cloaths on, when I have any to put on. I have been practiſing that theſes ſeven years. Is the coaſt clear?’—‘Miſs Trevor (ſhe ſaid) was juſt gone out in the chariot, and her Lady was ready to receive him.’ Tom ſaid his heart failed him in the [106]buſineſs; but Bridget eneouraged him with, ‘Pſha! Nonſenſe!—You have impudence enough upon ſome occa⯑ſions, and when a good fortune's at ſtake, it is worth an attempt; ſhe is tired of a ſingle life, and will be eaſily won. Indeed, the women are all eaſily won. I know the ſex well. The only want preſſing.’—‘If that will do, (returned Tom) faith ſhe ſhall have enough of it.’ Bridget then left him, to acquaint her Lady of his being there; and Tom, in the mean while, examining himſelf in the glaſs, obſerved that the coat fitted him to a tee.

Lady Daſhit ſoon entered the room, [107]and affected to appear confuſed. Bridget was peeping behind, and Tom bowing affectedly, Lady Daſhit firſt broke the ſilence, with, ‘Your name, Sir, I underſtand, is Sir Thomas Flam?’—‘Sir Thomas Flam, at your Ladyſhip's ſervice;’ replied Tom. Lady Daſhit could not help noticing to herſelf, that he was a very gentleman-like man, and begged him to be ſeated. Tom began: ‘Though, Madam, I may be a ſtranger to your Ladyſhip, you are not ſo to me. I have admired you frequently, and ardently wiſhed for an opportunity of telling you ſo.’ To which Lady Daſhit replied, with a good deal of confuſion, ‘I ſcarce know how, Sir Thomas, to [108]conſider this, otherwiſe than as a compliment, when there muſt be, no doubt, a number of young ladies, in the circle of your acquaintance, that muſt be noticed by you.’—‘True, Madam, (ſaid Tom) there are; but I hate your young ladies, boarding⯑ſchool miſſes, and novel-reading girls! When a man looks for a wife, he wiſhes to meet with a wo⯑man of ſenſe and diſcretion; a lady, like yourſelf, who, to elegance of perſon, and a ſufficient ſhare of beauty, is bleſt with an underſtand⯑ing, to make any man happy.’ Dur⯑ing this ſtudied ſpeech, he threw his legs and arms about, in an affected way, as if in raptures with his own [109]cloquence; and Bridget behind, ſeem⯑ed not a little pleaſed with his words and manner, wondering where he learnt them. Lady Daſhit was cap⯑tivated, and affecting a baſhful con⯑fuſion, replied, ‘Your compliments, Sir, quite confuſe me. Pray, Sir Thomas, are you acquainted with the Vavaſors of Yorkſhire? I hear your eſtate lies in that county.’ During all this time, Bridget induſtri⯑ouſly came backwards and forwards, under a pretence of adjuſting the room. Tom, rather heſitating, cried, ‘Oh! yes, Madam.’—‘Has the old gen⯑tlemen (ſaid Lady Daſhit) got rid of his lameneſs?’ Tom, not being prepared for this, and at a loſs, could [110]only ſay, "Madam?" Lady Daſhit went on: ‘His ſciatica has been a troubleſome companion to him.’ Tom, not knowing the meaning of the word, and, ſuppoſing it be his wife, replied, ‘I have not the honour of knowing the lady.’—"What lady?" retorts Lady Daſhit. Tom anſwered, "Mrs. Sciatica."—"Mrs. Sciatica!" explains Lady Daſhit, with ſurprize; ‘—Sciatica, Sir, is the hip-gout, with which Sir Walter has been long af⯑flicted.’ Tom, recovering himſelf, with an affected ſmile, replies, ‘I thoroughly underſtand what your Ladyſhip means by ſciatica: it is, I ſay, an attendant, which, bleſs my ſtars, I never had the honor of being ac⯑quainted [111]with;’ rejoicing that he had brought himſelf off ſo well. Lady Daſhit did not rightly enter into this, and ſaid, with a kind of ſarcaſtic ſneer, ‘I don't apprehend, Sir Thomas, you are acquainted with any of the family.’ Tom ſaid, ‘Not I, in⯑deed.’—‘Then, why, (returned Lady Daſhit) did you ſay you was?’—‘Pardon me, Madam, (anſwered Tom) I underſtood your Ladyſhip aſked me whether my eſtate lay in Yorkſhire; it was to this I anſwered Yes.’—‘I muſt entreat your excuſe then, Sir Thomas, (ſays Lady Daſhit); in what part of Yorkſhire does it lie?’ Tom, no leſs confuſed, and at a greater loſs, than before, cries again, [112] ‘Ma'am?’—‘Near what town, (con⯑tinued Lady Daſhit) for I am well acquainted with all the ridings!’ ‘The devil ride her,’ ſaid Tom, to himſelf, turning his head, and whiſ⯑pering to Bridget, unobſerved by her miſtreſs, ‘Where does this eſtate of mine lie?’—‘Any where near Thirſk?’ continues Lady Daſhit. Bridget, at a loſs, whiſpers to Tom, ‘Say, not a great way from York.’—‘A little off one ſide York,’ (ſays Tom to Lady Daſhit.) ‘Thirſk, (replied ſhe) is not many miles from the city.’ Tom, ſtill embarraſſed, ſtammers out, ‘True, Ma'am; true, Ma'am; but my lands are on the oppoſite ſide of the city, where I [113]ſhall be proud of conducting Lady Daſhit, and putting her in poſſeſſion of them. Do, my dear Madam, let me hope I may, ere long, have the happineſs to call you mine.’ Bridget, fidgeting about the room, and not lik⯑ing this dull converſation, contrived to draw near, and whiſper him in his ear. ‘Why don't you kneel at her feet, and kiſs her hand?’ It may appear a little extraordinary, that, upon ſuch an interview, Lady Daſhit ſhould not be more particular, with reſpect to her maid's being preſent; but, when it is conſidered, that her maid was her conſidante, of courſe in the ſecret, and had been the means of introducing Sir Thomas there, and when we conſider [114]that Lady Daſhit had a blind ſide, and wore a glaſs eye, and Bridget kept on that ſide of her, it is not to be won⯑dered at. Lady Daſhit did not notice Bridget, being attentive only to her own intereſt. ‘I preſume, (ſaid ſhe) Sir Thomas, you know what fortune I am poſſeſſed of?’ (That I do, ſaid he to himſelf; but, addreſſing himſelf to her Ladyſhip) ‘Fortune, Madam, is not the question. He, would ill deſerve your Ladyſhip, who thought of your fortune. I have a very ample one, which I ſhall be proud to ſhare with you. Your dear ſelf is the object of my adora⯑tion. Suffer me to throw myſelf at your feet; and ſay, could I once [115]have the honour of calling you Lady Flam, I ſhould be the happieſt of men.’ Upon this he threw himſelf upon his knee, ſeized her hand with ardour, preſſed it to his lips, and kiſſed it with fervour. Lady Daſhit now af⯑fected a girliſh confuſion, roſe from her ſeat, begged him to riſe, uttering with difficulty. ‘To ſay, Sir, I am not flattered with your liberality of ſentiment, would be telling an un⯑truth. I am, and ſhall be, glad to ſee you again at your leiſure; at which time I may be more explicit." Give me leave, (ſaid Tom, in rap⯑tures) to kiſs your hand;’ and whilſt ſo doing, Flint hurried into the room, and diſcovering Tom, though [116]in a new character, was ſtruck mo⯑tionleſs with ſurpriſe. Let us dwell a little on the mortification of this ſcene. In the very moment that Bridget and Tom were conceiving themſelves in their coaches, that this fellow ſhould blunder in, and break down all their chimeras. He inſtantly ſaw through the ſcheme laid for Lady Daſhit; ſpoke not a word, but, with a look of honeſt indignation, told Tom 'twas at an end.

We muſt break off here, to ſay how Flint obtained admiſſion.

CHAP. XXIII.

RAMBLE had directed Flint, if poſſible, to deliver his letter into Miſs Trevor's hands; which he might do, by aſking for her maid. For he was apprehenſive, from what he had heard of Lady Daſhit, if it fell in her way, Miſs Trevor might not receive it. To this end, Flint having knocked at the door, aſked for Mrs. Bridget; "What do you want with her?" ſaid the porter, who opened it, ‘What do I want with her? (return⯑ed Flint) to be ſure I don't want her.—I have a little bit of a letter [118]here for here lady.’—‘Some peti⯑tion, I ſuppoſe, or begging letter;’ ſaid the porter; (for the ladies were very charitably diſpoſed) ‘we have been peſtered with too may of them to-day already.’—‘Peteetion! (cries Flint, raiſing his voice) What, does the raſcal take me for a pauper?— Look in my cap, you teef, (point⯑ing to his cockade) and you'll ſee I carry the badge of a jontleman.’ ‘Jontleman!’ returns the ſervant, imitating Flint's brogue, ‘a pretty ſort a gentleman-like badge truly. Now the war's over, we ſhall be over-run with ſuch ſorry kind of gentlemen. Every idle vagabond, who has neither houſe nor habita⯑tion, [119]trade nor profeſſion, calls him⯑ſelf a gentleman. Go, ſet off,—you'll get nothing here.’ Flint's pride was now rouſed, and he roared out, ‘Hear me, fellow;—a cockade now is the higheſt badge of diſtenction. What would my little country have been but for thoſe who wore cock⯑ades? I am a ſoldier, and a ſoldier is a gentleman all the world over. And what is more, you poltroon, I bear about me the honourable marks of war; and am therefore not to be talked to by ſuch a ſnaking inſig⯑nificant ting as you. I wiſh I had you at Trincomalee.’ And at his he ſhook his cudgel over the fellow's head. ‘Shew me to your Lady im⯑madiately, [120](repeated Flint) or, by St. Patrick, I will, with this little ſhillela, give you ſuch a bating as you'll feel for theſe ſeven years, though you were to die to-morrow.’ This argumentum baculinum, or fear of drubbing, gained him a direction into what room up ſtairs to go; which ac⯑counts for his abrupt introduction into Lady Daſhit's apartment.

The inſtant Bridget ſaw Flint, ſhe ran up to him, and took him out of the room; and Tom took that oppor⯑tunity of taking his leave; but with a further invitation to wait on Lady Daſhit again. Bridget no ſooner got him out of the room, than ſhe ſcolded [121]him for coming up ſtairs, and aſked what he wanted? ‘What do I want, Maiſtreſs? (returned he) why, I want the young lady of the houſe; I have a letter for her.’—‘Then you ſhould have ſent it up,’ ſaid Bridget. ‘Sent it, honey? (replied Flint) Why, I might have done that, and ſaved myſelf the trouble of bringing it.— I can carry it back again, and ſend it now, if that be all.’—‘No, no. fool, (ſays Bridget) now you have brought it, you may give it to me. Miſs Trevor is not at home, when ſhe returns, I will give it her. So you may go,’ taking him by the ſhoulder, and putting him out. ‘Well, (returns Flint) don't ſhove [122]me. I think I know that jontleman in the next room: give me leave to ſpeak to him. Though he's as fine as a jay, and looks like a flagſtaff on the king's birth-day, I have ſeen him in a coarſer garb.’—‘Hold your ſilly tongue. (replied Bridget) You know him? How ſhould you know him? That's Sir Thomas Flam, a gentleman that's going to be married to my old Lady;—but this is a ſecret.’—‘Sir Thomas Flam!’ exclaims Flint, ſneering; and in going out, but not ſo loud as to be heard, ‘A pretty Flam, upon my con⯑ſience! Good luck go with you, honey!—Well, deliver theletter to Miſs Trevor. You may tell her, its [123]from my Maiſter, Colonel Ramble, and that little Flint brought it.’

When Tom had taken his leave, and Flint was gone, Lady Daſhit rung for her maid, enquired who Flint was, and how he came to be admitted; for which the Porter got a good ſcolding, not only from his Lady, but from Bridget. ‘Well, my Lady, (ſays the latter) how does your Ladyſhip like Sir Thomas? Is he not a very ele⯑gant, ſine ſpoken gentleman? He told me, on going out, that he was all in raptures with your Ladyſhip.’ Lady Daſhit obſerving to her that he was a good deal at a loſs about the ſituation of his country ſeat, ‘I ſhould [124]have been ſurpriſed if he had not, (ſays Bridget). Every lover is con⯑fuſed at the firſt interview with his Miſtreſs. I could ſee, my Lady, that you yourſelf was confuſed.’ ‘Very much ſo indeed! (returned Lady Daſhit.) It will not be impro⯑per, however, to make ſome further enquiries about him. I think, I'll aſk Mr. Spatter; he knows every body.’ Bridget, convinced that Spatter would ſay he knew him, from a fooliſh pride he took in being ac⯑quainted with every titled man, urged her Lady to it much; and, leſt ſhe ſhould apply to any other, propoſed ſending to Mr. Spatter, and begging him to call the firſt time he came that [125]way. Lady Daſhit enjoined her maid to ſecrecy; but ſhe was too much in⯑tereſted in the affair, as ſhe ſaid to her⯑ſelf, not to be as ſecret as poſſible.

CHAP. XXIII.

MISS Trevor having ſent Ramble an anſwer, upon her return home, that ſhe ſhould be happy to ſee him; he waited on her the next morning, and was no ſooner announed, than Miſs Trevor told her maid, that Co⯑lonel Ramble waited on her, at his own requeſt, begging her private ear for [126]half an hour, on buſineſs of moment. ‘Moſt aſſuredly, Miſs, (ſaid Bridget) will my words come to paſs. He is as much in love with you as you can be with him. Mr. Spatter told me ſo. You are certainly born for each other.’ Miſs Trevor could not but confeſs that ſhe was partial to him, but feared he was too unſettled to think of a wife, till he had nearly outrun his fortune. ‘Then make yourſelf eaſy, (returned Bridget, pert⯑ly) for that's pretty well the caſe elready: at leaſt the world ſays ſo.’ This was too much; Miſs Trevor was nettled. ‘Don't be impertinent; (ſaid ſhe you take more liberties than become you. If I think proper to [127]ſpeak freely of him, I won't have you do it. Go, ſhew the Colonel up.’ "Marry come up!" ſays Bridget, muttering to herſelf, as ſhe left the room; ‘there's more fuſs about ſweethearts in this houſe than in the whole pariſh beſides.’—‘I beg your pardon, Miſs Trevor, (ſaid the Colonel, on entering the room,) for this intruſion; but I was deſirous of ſeeing you on a matter of ſome importance.’ Chairs being brought, and Bridget having left the room, Ramble went on: ‘I hope what I have to communicate will attract your attention; but, ſhould it not meet your approbation, truſt it will be good-naturedly forgiven.’ Miſs [128]Trevor, with ſome confuſion, ſaid ſhe was perſuaded he could offer nothing but what ſhe ſhould be happy to at⯑tend to. Though the Colonel was far from wanting words, and could have addreſſed any woman for himſelf, yet he found himſelf embrraſſed when pleading the cauſe of his friend; fear⯑ing it might not be well received, and be deemed impertinence. ‘You are very good, (ſaid he) and polite, Miſs Trevor, and I am proud of the oc⯑caſion. The ſubject I am to intro⯑duce to you is of ſo ſerious a nature, that I requeſt you will not give a haſty opinion of it.’ Miſs Trevor was all confuſion, and could not help noticing the Colonel's embarraſſment, [129]who now felt, for the firſt time, an awkwardneſs in a love-affair, that he never experienced before. Whether it was from having had an intimation of Miſs Trevor's partiality for him; or whether it aroſe from his partiality for her, which ſeemed to increaſe at this tete-a-tete, is immaterial, but ſo it was; he found it difficult, yet went on. ‘Your charms and good con⯑duct, my dear Miſs Trevor, as is na⯑tural to ſuppoſe, have made an im⯑preſſion, where I can take upon me ſay, no time can eraſe.’ ‘The im⯑preſſion, Colonel, you are pleaſed to talk, of, (returned Miſs Trevor,) muſt ariſe, not from any feſerts of mine, but from a too partial opinion [130]entertained of me.’ ‘Every one, (ceplied Ramble) muſt entertain a partial opinion of Miſs Trevor. Thoſe who have ſeen her once, muſt wiſh to ſee her again; and thoſe whom ſhe is pleaſed to honour with her notice, muſt ſtand in raptures at her virtues.’

Miſs Trevor, bowing to the com⯑pliment, but with a ſmile that would have won the heart of an anchorite, obſerved, that ſhe was at a loſs to de⯑termine which was moſt inexcuſeable, unpalatable truths or agreeable inſin⯑cerities? Ramble, who was now more in love with her than ever, but was tied up by honour and friendſhip to [131]ſmother the paſſion, found himſelf ex⯑ceedingly aukward. ‘Call me not inſincere, (ſaid he) I am a plain dealer, and you muſt excuſe my frankneſs. The amiable qualities you poſſeſs, the goodneſs of your heart, my dear Miſs Trevor, and the ſweetneſs of your diſpoſition, entitle you to the admiration of every man; and, permit me to ſay, they have made a conqueſt of a heart, that I ſhould hope you will have ſome compaſſion for.’ ‘You have a happy way, Colonel, (return⯑ed ſhe) of ingratiating yourſelf with the women, and I have little doubt but that ſhe who can attract your attention, muſt be proud of the [132]conqueſt.’ By theſe words Ramble perceived himſelf not underſtood, and was, therefore, determined to cut the matter ſhort, leſt he ſhould loſe his own heart; for though he was attach⯑ed to Miſs Raſpe, and ſhe was a girl whom any man might love, yet ſhe had not the underſtanding nor the in⯑dependence of Miſs Trevor. His ac⯑quaintance with Miſs Raſpe was of ſhort duration, and it was now ſome time ſince he ſaw her; but Ramble was a man of ſtrict honour, and, hav⯑ing made propoſals of marriage to her, would never think of flying from them. Theſe were his inward thoughts, whilſt addreſſing Miſs Trevor. De⯑termined, therefore, to bring the mat⯑ter [133]to an iſſue, he told her, he would not treſpaſs longer upon her patience, but take the liberty at once to ſolicit her hand and heart in favour of one who adored her, and could not live without her. ‘My heart, (replied ſhe) is too poor an object to make much parade of; it is a trifling, ſilly thing, that ſcarce knows its own in⯑tereſts; and, I fear, of too little conſequence to be worth any one's notice.’ ‘It is, I am convinced, (anſwered Ramble) a heart that every ſenſible man would be am⯑bitious of obtaining; and, I honeſtly declare to you, that I never thought my friend Dangle a man of under⯑ſtanding till now’ Miſs Trevor, [134]till this inſtant, was not undeceived in her hopes but that the Colonel was addreſſing her for himſelf; and, of courſe, teſtified her ſurpriſe at the name of Dangle. Ramble proceeded: ‘My dear Miſs Trevor, Dangle has long loved you, and often wiſhed to declare it, but a curſed mauvaiſe honte, which he cannot get the bet⯑ter of, has prevented his ſaying what he has requeſted me to ſay for him. Will you give me leave to tell him that you will receive his addreſ⯑ſes? Believe me, you cannot coun⯑tenance a more honeſt fellow, nor one that will make a better huſ⯑band.’ Miſs Trevor, now betray⯑ing more ſurpriſe, and ſome marks of [135]diſpleaſure, ſaid, ‘So, Sir, it is Mr. Dangle's cauſe that you have been pleading all this time?’ ‘Even ſo, Madam, (anſwered he) the cauſe of friendſhip and of love.’ ‘Then, (ſaid ſhe) I muſt be under the ne⯑ceſſity of telling you, that you have been fruitleſsly employed. I am not inſenſible of the honour Mr. Dangle does me; but my heart has unfortu⯑nately been long engaged to another. (here ſhe ſighed) Mr. Dangle is a gentleman I ſhall ever reſpect as a friend, but the laſt man in the world I could bring myſelf to think of as a huſband.’ ‘But are you ſerious in this?’ returned Ramble.—‘Quite ſerious,’ ſaid ſhe.—Ramble added, [136]he hoped he had not diſpleaſed her by the part he had taken. ‘I ſhould have been much better pleaſed, (re⯑plied Miſs Trevor) had you taken up leſs of my time upon the occa⯑ſion.’ With this ſhe got up, and rung the bell. Ramble, ſeeing he had given offence, and, unhappy at the circumſtance, ſaid, taking her by the hand, ‘Come, Miſs Trevor, it was an act of friendſhip;—you muſt for⯑give me, and if ever I undertake ſuch another jobb, the devil fetch me.’

‘It might, (ſaid ſhe) be an act of friendſhip to him, but it ſurely could be none to me; however, Sir, on [137]condition that you never mention him again, I ſhall think no more of it.’ Bridget now entered the room; ſhe aſk⯑ed if every thing was ready for her above; and being anſwered in the af⯑firmative, looked at her watch, apo⯑logized to the Colonel for leaving him ſo abruptly, fear'd ſhe ſhould not be dreſſed in time, ordered her ſervant to wait on him down, and left him, with a heart wretched at the diſappoint⯑ment. Ramble felt himſelf much hurt at this;—his good-nature, and readi⯑neſs to oblige his friend, had cauſed him to offend a lady he really re⯑ſpected; and various were the ſuggeſ⯑tions that immediately ſtruck him. He could not but dwell on the charms [138]of Miſs Trevor, and lament that ill luck which engaged him to plead a cauſe, in which he was become ſo en⯑tangled.

CHAP. XXIV.

RAMBLE, as I have obſerved, found himſelf much embarraſſed in the affair with Miſs Trevor. Indeed his ſentiments differed ſo widely from the generality of young men, as to be ſuſ⯑ceptible of many inquietudes they ne⯑ver know. He ſpent ſome hours, one morning, in his ſtudy, contemplating [139]this buſineſs; and thus it was he rea⯑ſoned with himſelf: "What is it, (ſaid he) that ſo diſturbs me? I undertook to plead for my friend, in behalf of his affection for Miſs Trevor.—When I found my own heart intereſted, did I betray my friend?—No,—but as warm⯑ly urged his ſuit, as if it had been my own.—Would ſhe hear me?—No,—but took offence; and would only forgive it on condition that the ſubject never was renewed; with a poſitive declara⯑tion, that ſhe never would admit Dangle's ſuit.—Was I not then at li⯑berty to have pleaded for myſelf?—Yes; and thouſands would have done it, had they felt, like me, the powerful influence of her charms.—How unfor⯑tunate, [140]that he ſhould have applied to me, who am now, perhaps, much more her ſlave than ever he was!—Her manner, I think, was ſingular:—She appeared ſenſibly touched with my diſcourſe.—What did ſhe mean by unfortunately engaged? — To whom could that be?—But, what am I about? (throwing himſelf upon his ſofa) Do I already forget the promiſes I made Miſs Raſpe?—Unlucky, cruel hour, that linked me to this chain of trouble!—In which am I moſt juſti⯑fiable?—Is that man a man of honour, who ſhall rob a parent of his child?—Will my faith to Miſs Raſpe compen⯑ſate for the injury done to her father, who builds all his hopes on marrying [141]her to a nobleman?—Will not this in⯑juſtice to him, caſt a ſhade upon my honour?—Miſs Raſpe may have, and may yet meet, many a better offer; avoid offending her parent, and pre⯑vent my doing him an injuſtice.—Miſs Trevor is independant; and, with a good fortune, enjoys the diſpoſal, not only of that, but of her perſon;—and, was I to marry her, I ſhould have no feelings to wound,—no remorſe to ſting me.—What, not the reproaches of a friend?—Have theſe no poignancy?—They have.—Miſs Trevor will not hear him; of courſe, treachery it cannot be.—But, have I once dwelt on that, which reflects diſhonour, more than all the reſt?—Have I conſidered the pains [142]I took to win a heart, I now ſeem ſo willing to reſign?—Was I happy till I had made Miſs Raſpe confeſs her at⯑tachment to me?—What a monſter, an ingrate, muſt I then be to forget myſelf, and the vows I made her?"—

At this inſtant Spatter ſtole into the room, with ‘What, aſleep, Ramble, in the middle of the day, or mu⯑ſing?’—Ramble, too abſorbed. in thought to obſerve him, roſe from the ſofa, and went on: — "How theſe reflections wound me! — What pity is due to thoſe who feel as I do!—Many a man there is, who would glory in ſuch difficulties.—Such men may ſuffer leſs; but ſuch men I deſpiſe.—Shall [143]I, then, act in ſuch a manner, as..." He was proceeding in this ſtrain as Spatter approached him, but ſtill loſt in thought, and turning, as he uttered the laſt word, unthinkingly, round, his face met Spatters; who, crying "No," aloud, as anſwering to his queſ⯑tion, ſtartled him, and put an end to his reveries. ‘Where did you hide yourſelf?’ ſaid he to Spatter. ‘I have been here this half hour, (re⯑plied he) and have heard your whole ſoliloquy.’

‘I am ſorry for it, (ſaid Ramble).—You then can, perhaps, adviſe me?’ ‘Not I, believe me. (ſaid he) I have heard a great deal, but could make [144]little out.’ ‘Know then, (conti⯑nued Ramble) I have been pleading Dangle's cauſe with a fine girl, and an fallen deſperately in love with her myſelf. Though ſhe has abſo⯑lutely rejected his ſuit, my refined notions of honour forbid me to make any advances for myſelf.’ Spatter aſked who the girl was; and on Ram⯑ble's ſaying he was not at liberty to name her, added, ‘Let her be who ſhe will, you may be very eaſy on that ſcore; for Dangle's too fa⯑ſhionable a lover to think of a wife. Had you obtained the girl's conſent, he would have been much more em⯑barraſſed and chagrined than he will now, on being made acquainted with [145]her refuſal.’ This ſurpriſed Ramble, and he begged Spatter would be more explicit. ‘His vanity (he continued) is inſupportable. In the courſe of his life he has not courted leſs than fifty women; whom, as ſoon as he diſcovered that he was likely to ſuc⯑ceed with, he has abſolutely jilted. Was you to tell him that his appli⯑cation has been unattended to, he would be eager to renew it; but, tell him he may have her, and ſhe may be mine, or your's or any man's.’ ‘You certainly cannot be ſerious;’ replied Ramble. ‘Only try the ex⯑periment,’ ſaid Spatter. Ramble ſaid it would be telling an untruth, which he never could do.— ‘Not to [146]yourſelf?’ replied Spatter. ‘No, not to ſerve a friend, (returned Ram⯑ble) whom I would ſerve before my⯑ſelf.’—‘Tell me (ſaid Spatter) the girl's name, and I'll undertake it for you:—Miſs Seabright? Lady Bab Squeamiſh? Miſs Gadabout? Miſs Trevor? Miſs—’ ‘It is in vain (ſaid Ramble) to perſiſt; was you to name the whole town, it would not do.’—‘What will you ſay now (adds Spatter) if I tell the untruth for you, and bring Dangle to relinquiſh her?’—‘Say? (re⯑turns Ramble, laughing) ſay you can gulp down a lie better than I can.’ ‘You don't deſerve my good offices, (replied Spatter) but, as I ſhall have [147]laugh at Dangle's expence, I'll ſet about it.’ No ſooner were the words uttered, than Dangle entered the room: Spatter runs up to him, with ‘I was flying to you, Dangle with joy⯑ful tidings. Some girl, Ramble ſays, to whom he has been ſpeaking in your favour, conſents to make you happy; you have only to buy a licenſe and fix the day.’—‘I hope (ſays Dangle to Ramble) you have not betrayed me?’—‘Not I, upon my honour, (returned he) Spatter has tried all he could, to learn her name, but he is ſtill in the dark.’—‘That's true enough, (cried Spatter) ban⯑tering him, for I would give all the world to know; that I might have [148]the happineſs of paying my reſpects to Mrs. Dangle, that is to be.’ Dangle already repented matters had gone ſo far, and began conſidering how he ſhould get off with Ramble; for after all, ‘he'd be curs'd (he ſaid) if he could tune his mind to matri⯑mony. And aſked Ramble, whe⯑ther Spatter was not jeſting?’—‘You muſt have a bad opinion of my oratory, (replied he) if you doubt its ſucceſs.’—‘To be plain with you, Ramble, (returned Dangle, ſomewhat embarraſſed) I could not conceive you would have been ſo expeditious, and the deſign of this viſit was to requeſt you to defer the matter till I had reconſidered it.’ [149]Spatter, with a kind of triumph, whiſpered Ramble, ‘Am I right now or not?’ Ramble addreſſed him⯑ſelf to Dangle with ſome warmth, and exclaimed, ‘reconſidered it!— Hearkee, Dangle;—when you wiſh to trifle with a lady again, I beg you will not make me your inſtrument. I hope I ſhall never meet you at that houſe any more.’—‘Nay, (retorted Dangle) if you are ſo warm upon the occaſion, I muſt tell you, that until you are maſter of that houſe, or till the ladies refuſe to ſee me, I ſhall go there when I pleaſe;—I ſee no reaſon, Colonel Ramble, for this anger.’—‘I don't wiſh to prevent your going there, (ſaid Ramble) all [150]I hope is, that I may never meet you there; as I ſhould not only bluſh for myſelf, but for you. I am not unacquainted, Dangle, with your ridiculous vanity, and that this circumſtance may not add to your trophies, be aſſured, Sir, that the lady, peremptorily refuſed to liſten to any thing I had to ſay reſpecting you. You once upon a time told me, you would not ſuffer her cha⯑racter to be trified with, this is trifling with it with a vengeance.’ Dangle aſked him warmly, whether he meant to inſinuate any thing to his diſadvantage? ‘Moſt certainly, (re⯑turned Ramble) I do, and muſt ac⯑quaint you, before your friend Spat⯑ter, [151]that your behaviour in this mat⯑ter, has been what I did not expect; it was ungenerous in you to employ me before you knew your own mind.’ Nay, Gentlemen (inter⯑rupted Spatter, addreſſing himſelf firſt to one and then to the other,? ‘Co⯑lonel Ramble, Mr. Dangle,—this is making a laughable matter too ſe⯑rious.’—‘It is no laughable matter, (reſumed the Colonel;) I mean to take it up very ſeriouſly.’—‘Then, if it offends you, (ſaid Dangle) you know your remedy; I ſhall be at home the whole of the day, and wait your commands,’ And upon this left them. ‘Upon my ſoul, Ramble, (ſaid Spatter) I am ſorry [152]for this, you have carried this affair ſo far, that I fear you cannot refrain from calling him out.’—‘He may than you for it, (returned he) for had you not laid open his folly to me, all would have been well. I ſhould have acquainted him with the reſult of my embaſſy, and things would have reſted there.’—‘Nay, (ſaid Spatter) I did it to put you at eaſe; I hope, however, matters may yet be honourably adjuſted, without com⯑ing to extremities.’—‘Your ideas of honour, and mine, Spatter, (ſaid he) ſeem to be widely different; I have had the ſatisfaction of telling him openly my ſentiments of his conduct, and if they anger him, he [153]may have recourſe to whatever mea⯑ſure he pleaſes; I ſhall not call further upon him; if he calls upon me, it will not meet my attention; if he attacks me, I truſt I ſhall have ſpirit enough to defend myſelf. I have done it in my life more than once. But I am proud to ſay, I ſhould be afraid to ſeek the life of another, nor would I, but in a caſe of abſolute neceſſity, ruſh myſelf into the preſence of my Maker, from the conſequence of an act that admits of no repentance, and leave my ſur⯑vivor only the bittereſt remorſe.’—‘Well, upon the whole (ſaid Spatter) I don't know but your philoſophy may be right; when he cools, he'll [154]be aſhamed of his behaviour, and I'll take care to let his friends know that his propoſal has been rejected; don't I merit now your confidence for this? Come, tell me her name, it ſhall go no further, upon my ſoul it ſhan't.’—‘No, (ſaid Ramble) that would be ſo like taking revenge; be⯑ſides, as I know you hate to be bur⯑thened with ſecrets, I will not trou⯑ble you with this.’

CHAP. XXV.

RAMBLE finding a want of money, and learning that he was in⯑debted to Miſs Trevor for his releaſe, thought it neceſſary to apply to ſome perſon capable of accommodating him with the loan of 1000l. He was re⯑commended to Grumble, the attorney, as a man in the habit of accommo⯑dating gentlement with money. He went to this man's houſe, and found him ſeated in an eaſy chair, with his leg wrapped up, and reſted on a ſtool as having the gout. Ramble ac⯑quainted him with this buſineſs, and produced a mortgage-deed of an eſtate [156]of 500l. a year, on which his father had lent a neighbour 2000l. Grumble looking on the parchment, ſaid, ‘he deemed it ſufficient, and was happy in an opportunity of letting him have the money immediately; as a friend of his, a merchant of Liverpool, whoſe buſineſs he did in the money-way, was juſt arrived with a parcel, and had been with him to enquire whe⯑ther he could diſpoſe of any of it to advantage, and on his telling him he could, was gone to fetch it. He is a man (continued Grumble) that I do a great deal of buſineſs for, and loving his money as his life, would not em⯑ploy me, if he did not think himſelf ſafe in my hands; I have, in my time [157]done many a ſcore thouſand for him; he is one of the richeſt men in Li⯑verpool. Indeed I wonder he proſ⯑pers ſo well, conſidering the traffic he is engaged in, that of bartering for human ſleſh.’—‘I think (ſaid Ramble) I know the man.’—‘Not unlikely (returned Grumble) his name is Raſpe.’—‘Has not he an only child, and daughter?’—‘He has, and ſhe is in town with him. As I find you know ſomething of him, I can bring you together. I expect his return every minute.’ Ramble begged to be excuſed from this, ſaying, ‘Though he knows my family, I think it would be better not to mention my name, leſt he ſhould [158]ſtart ſome objections; for he is a very whin ſical man.’—‘Well, well, (ſaid Grumble) there is no occaſion to mention names, for he always reſts ſatisfied with me.’ Scarce were theſe words uttered, when Grumble's clerk entered the room and ſaid, Mr. Raſpe was without and a young lady with him. Ramble begged leave to retire into the next room. He no ſooner had retired, than Mr. Raſpe and his daughter entered. ‘Nothing but gout here, (ſaid Raſpe) perhaps it is catching. I am afraid to come in. I ſuppoſe your clerk's got the gout too; he was ſo long delivering the meſſage;—he kept me half an hour waiting, and was at laſt forced [159]to come in without introduction.’—‘I can't get up, (ſaid Grumble) you muſt excuſe me.’—‘Old ſins, Maſter Grumble (returned Raſpe) old ſins,—(gout follows cloſe.)—I have brought the money, diſpatch me as ſoon as poſſible: I have but little time to ſpare.’—‘I preſume (ſaid Grumble) that young lady is your daughter.’—‘Yes, (anſwered Raſpe) ſhe is my daughter; I al⯑ways take her with me; good for⯑tunes are ſoon run away with; I therefore never loſe ſight of her.’ Grumble begged them to be ſeated, but no chairs being in the room, ex⯑cept the one he ſat in, nothing but two high deſk-ſtools, Raſpe, who was a ſhort [160]man ſaid, ‘he could not reach the ſtool.’ Grumble requeſted Miſs to ring the bell, ſaying, ‘his clerk ſhould fetch one out of the next room.’—‘No, no, (returned Raſpe) he'll be a long time about it,’ and turning to his daughter, bad her fetch one. Miſs Raſpe going into the next room to fetch a chair, diſcovered Ram⯑ble. She flew into his arms with joy and ſurpriſe, and meeting him where ſhe ſo little expected it, almoſt overcome her. She had not time then to ſpeak to him, but took a chair and faid ſhe would contrive to return. Upon her entering the room where her father was, ſhe found him and his attorney engaged in buſineſs. Miſs Raſpe interrupted [161]them, by obſerving to Mr. Grumble, what a fine collection of pictures he had, and with his leave, whilſt they were adjuſting their buſineſs, ſhe would go and look and them. ‘Aye, aye, (ſaid Raſpe) Charlotte loves paintings; her father hates them.’ Miſs Raſpe went into the next room again, faſtening the door after her. She now told the Colonel, ‘that they had been in London more than a week, that ſhe had unfortunately loſt the directions he had given her, and was quite unhappy on the account of it; and conſidered this accidental meet⯑ing as an act of Providence.’ She acquainted Ramble, that it would be ſtill ſome weeks before they ſhould ſet [162]off for Paris; that they were at her un⯑cle's, Sir Raby Raſpe's, and ſhould there continue whilſt in London; got a direc⯑tion where to convey a letter to the Colonel, and aſſured him ſhe would contrive ſome method of ſeeing him in a day or two, and would let him know it by a line, and was ſorry the time ſuppoſed for looking over a few pictures would not admit of her ſaying more to him at preſent. Her father, in the next room, upon Grumble's aſſuring him his daughter was a fine girl, and that he could not be too careful of her, told him he had ſent her to Scotland to be out of the way of the men; that he went a month ſince to fetch her, and found a damned red-coated fellow [163]under the ſame roof, a man whom they called Coloned Ramble, that he brought her away juſt in the nick of time, that a day longer would have loſt her, that he left her fellow behind, that, thank Heaven, he had nothing to fear now; as the was going to take her abroad, and would not ſee her again in a hurry. Grumble, who was convinced now that the red-coated fellow alluded to, could only be Colonel Ramble in the next room, ſeemed to enjoy the thought of the young couple meeting ſo opportunely. He had, in his days been of an intriguing diſpoſition him⯑ſelf, was mortified to find that age and infirmity put a ſtop to his career. He therefore prolonged the converſation [164]as much as he could, to give the Colo⯑nel more time to ſpend with Miſs Raſpe. Grumble obſerved that it was not a bad plan to take a pretty girl with a good fortune, out of the way of danger. ‘Well, (ſaid Raſpe) I muſt be gone,’ and hallooed out for his daughter. Grumble would gladly have detained him a little longer, by telling him he had an immediate opportunity for placing out a 1000l. of his money on very good (ſecurity, but Raſpe was impatient to be gone, deſiring him to acquaint him by letter with what he had done. Miſs Raſpe now re-entered the room, ſmiling, and told her papa, he would have been delighted if he had ſeen what ſhe had in the next [165]room. Such figures, ſays ſhe, ſuch attitudes!—Grumble ſaid there was one original worth half the beſt pic⯑tures ‘of the age, and I perceive Miſs Raſpe has made no difficulty of diſ⯑tinguiſhing it.’—‘Original, or no original, (returns Raſpe) I would not croſs the threſhold to ſee thou⯑ſands of them. Come Charlotte, let's be gone.’—‘I muſt, papa, take another peep, and then.’ On this ſhe opened the door, bid the Colo⯑nel adieu with a ſpeaking eye, and then accompanied her father home. The Colonel now re-entered to Grumble, got from him the caſh, and an account of what paſſed between him and Raſpe; was not a little pleaſed with the acci⯑dent [166]that brought him and Miſs Raſpe ſo unexpectedly together, and diverted at the idea that Raſpe, with all his eyes, ſhould furniſh him with money to elope with his own daughter.

CHAP. XXVI.

LADY Daſhit having ſent to requeſt that Spatter would call upon her the firſt time he came her way, he loſt no time upon the occaſion, but waited on her ladyſhip very ſoon after; when to⯑gether, and in private, after a little general converſation, ſhe begged leave [167]to aſk him ‘Whether he knew Sir Thomas Flam?’—‘Perfectly well, Madam, (replied he) perfectly well, not to know him, would be to argue myſelf unknown; there is ſcarce a titled man in the kingdom that I don't perſonally know; the different clubs I belong to, my connections, all lead to this knowledge.’—‘He has, I underſtand, (ſaid Lady Daſhit) an eſtate of 2000l. a year in the neighbourhood of York.’—‘Oh, yes, (returned he) the Flam's of Yorkſhire every one knows.’—‘How much (aſks Lady Daſhit) do you ſuppoſe his eſtate amounts to?’—‘I don't know, indeed, (returned Spatter) the exact rental; but I apprehend it muſt [168]conſiderably above the ſum your ladyſhip mentions.’ She aſked again, ‘What may be the name of his eſtate?’ Spatter all confuſion at theſe queſtions, and not willing to be caught in a lye, and yet not to be known to a baronet, were things he could not digeſt, feigning, therefore, forgetfulneſs ‘Name of his eſtate, Ma'am, name of his eſtate;—bleſs me, I ſhall forget my own name preſently—I don't think of it at this moment, but I have ſpent many a cheerful day with him.’—‘Then, I preſume, (ſaid her ladyſhip) you are perſonally acquainted with him?’—‘Perſonally (anſwered Spatter).’ Lady Daſhit, fearful they might not both [169]mean the ſame perſon; obſerved, ‘that Sir Thomas was a tall, elegant, well made man.’—‘Yes, yes, Ma⯑dam, (returns Spatter, with a quick reply) Flam's a fine fellow:’ and dreading, with this inquiſitive woman, he ſhould ſoon get gravelled; for till now he had never heard of one of the name, determined to be off. Looking, therefore, at his watch, he cries, ‘Bleſs me, it is near three o'clock, and I promiſed to be at Lady Swal⯑lows preciſely as the clock ſtruck!’ and upon her, Lady Daſhit's noticing, that he was a very exact man, he, with his uſual flow of ſpirits, happy in having got rid of the diſagreeable ſub⯑ject, continued, ‘I was always rec⯑koned [170]ſo, Ma'am; I pride myſelf upon it. Punctuality and truth ever go hand in hand with me. Miſs Bloſſom calls me an oracle; Lady Bab, a time⯑piece, and Mrs. Drive-it a regula⯑tor. I am very ſorry to leave you; but her ladyſhip will be all impa⯑tience, and I would not loſe my repu⯑tation with Lady Swallow upon any account. Gadſo, Lady Daſhit, I ſhall forget myſelf preſently; I muſt tell you a little anecdote, however, of Miſs Sneak before I leave you— You know that ſhe lives as an hum⯑ble friend with Lady Di. Snapit; her Ladyſhip, you know, is very fond of books, or at leaſt pretends to be ſo: but whether ſhe is or not is of little [171]moment; it being no concern of mine; I ſpeak only as I hear. And this affected penchant for literature, leads her to notice thoſe of her ac⯑quaintance moſt, who ſeem to have a ſmattering for reading: this being re⯑marked by Miſs Sneak, who, you know Ma'am, is of the wrong ſide of thirty, and whoſe education had been neglected in the younger part of her life, and being deſirous of riſing in the favour of Lady Di. was de⯑termined to ſtudy hard, in hopes of gaining Lady Di's affection: ſhe mentioned this to her ladyſhip, re⯑queſting her, at the ſame time, that ſhe would lend her a book to begin. Lady Di, who took a pride in [172]mortifying thoſe ſhe had under her command, and happy in laughing, at the expence of her dependents, ap⯑plauded her deſign, and promiſed to lend her one of the moſt uſeful books in her library. It was a French and Engliſh Dictionary. Some days after, her ladyſhip aſked Miſs Sneak how ſhe liked the book. Infinitely, replied ſhe; it is the moſt delightful book I ever ſaw; the ſentences are all ſhort, and eaſily underſtood, and the letters charmighly ranged in ranks like ſoldiers on the parade; whereas, in ſome other books, which I have ſeen, they are mighled toge⯑ther in a confuſed manner, like a mere mob; ſo that there is no plea⯑ſure [173]in looking at them, and very diffi⯑cult to know what they mean. In⯑deed I am no longer ſurpriſed at the ſatisfaction your ladyſhip takes in ſtudy!—But commend me to the divine Miſs Trevor.’ He was no ſooner gone, than Lady Daſhit recol⯑lected having read this ſtory in ſome book, which Spatter had been pleaſed to give to Lady Snapit; but no mat⯑ter, her thoughts were upon Sir Tho⯑mas Flam; and, as Mr. Spatter knew his family, her doubts reſpecting him were done away.

CHAP. XXVII.

FLINT having made his maſter ac⯑quainted with what he had ſeen at Lady Daſhit's and the ſcheme laid by Mr. Dangle's ſervant to marry her under a feigned character; Ramble, not willing to ſtir in the buſineſs him⯑ſelf, leſt Flint ſhould be wrong in his ſtory, told him, if he was not miſtaken in the man, to go to Lady Daſhit's, ſee her ladyſhip, and make der ac⯑quainted with it in the beſt way he could; but, on no account, to mention his name in it.

Flint could not have been ſent on a [175]more agreeable errand. He had a ſneaking kindneſs for Bridget, and was happy in an opportunity of ſeeing her. He poſted, therefore, to the houſe;—being admitced, and meeting her in an antichamber, cries, ‘Hearkee, Mrs. Bridget—I think they call you the chamber-maids always in the ſecrets of their miſtreſſes?’—‘Do you imagine, I ſhall anſwer you that queſtion? (replied Bridget)’—‘Why not, honey? (returned Flint) I've a little matter (d'ye ſee) to com⯑municate to Lady Daſhit through you, and that more nearly concerns her than ſhe would wiſh to think.’ ‘Well, come (ſaid Bridget) what is [176]it?’—‘What is it, my jewel? (re⯑plied Flint) That's too home a queſ⯑tion to be anſwered, (d'ye ſee) without ſome little preface to it. We ſoldiers never fire without a make ready—preſent. You muſt firſt ſwear, honey, never to divulge it to any creature living.’—‘Then, how (ſaid Bridget) can you communicate what you have to ſay to my Lady, through me, if I am not to tell it.’—‘Why, by my fait, that's true (re⯑turned Flint)—I did not tink of that; Well then, child, you muſt ſwear not to tell it to any body elſe.’ (Bridget all impatience) ‘Well, I do ſwear I will not—Come, let's have it; for a chambermaid, you know, is all [177]curioſity.’—‘That, (anſwered Flint) is true again; but for the oath —now, d'ye ſee, honey, a military oath is always taken by kiſſing the ſword, and, as we have no ſword here, why— you may—kiſs me;’ (and took hold of her) upon which ſhe, ſtruggling to get from him, ſaid, ‘indeed Mr. Monſter I ſhan't,’—‘But indeed Maiſtreſs Baggage (ſaid Flint) you ſhall,’ and kiſſing her, "by my ſoul, (ſaid he to himſelf) its as good as a dram in a cold froſty morning—it has warmed me all over, ‘Why, (looking at Bridget,) d'ye ſee, my charming chamber⯑maid, oaths muſt be voluntary, or they are not binding; therefore kiſs me of your own accord.’—‘Don't [178]be a fool, Flint; (ſaid Bridget) if you have any thing to ſay, ſay it; if not, I'll ſtay no longer.’—‘Well, then, (ſaid Flint) I'll tell you, You muſt know, my dear Mrs. Bridget, when my late maiſter and I were at the ſiege of Trincomaleè, ...Damme, it was warm work that day;—and we fought it foot by foot; I believe, if it had not been for us, the place would not have been carried!’ Here Bridget again interrupted him, with ‘What have I to do with all this?— What's the ſecret you have to tell me?’—‘Why, child the ſecret will come preſently, (anſwered Flint); I muſt lay the train before I can ſpring the mine;—at this ſame ſiege of Trin⯑comaleè, [179]it was there I loſt my eye; I ſhall never forget it!—Well, it was loſt in a good cauſe, and, wiping the other, as though crying, I don't lamen it.’—‘Come, (ſaid Bridget) in a conſoling accent, don't be caſt down Flint—it gives you a ſoldier⯑like fierceneſs, that you would not have without it.’—‘Caſt down! No, by my fait, Flint was never yet caſt down, (returned he); the eye that's left, it's true, dropped a tear at the remembrance of parting with an old friend;—that's all; no, no, Flint will never regret the loſs of an eye when his country calls for it. It might have been my life! What then? Nothing. It's a call of ſer⯑vice [180]and I obey. Flint's afraid of nothing but diſhonour and diſgrace.’—‘Well, but Corporal, (ſaid Bridget) you're not come to the ſecret yet?’ Still Flint went on, ‘I told you, I believe, that my maiſter and I fought it foot by foot,’ (and here Flint brandiſhed his ſtick with an af⯑fected air) ‘and when the walls gave way, and we mounted the breach, an officer in a private's uniform, op⯑poſed our entrance; I levelled my piece at him, thus, (levelled his ſtick) and would have laid him flat, but my maiſter checked me, "Re⯑turn your arms, Flint, (ſays he)—he is an officer, you may always know a jontleman by his manner." I remem⯑ber [181]it as well as if it was but yeſter⯑day —you may always know a jon⯑tleman by his manner.’—‘And what, (ſaid Bridget) is all this to me?’—‘Don't be in a hurry, honey, now the ſecret's coming, (ſays Flint) but you muſt ſwear again,’ (and offered to kiſs her). ‘I'll ſwear no more, whether you tell me or not,’ (returned Bridget, with ſome warmth). Here Flint pauſed a little, as if muſing, and then repeated, ‘you may always know a jontleman by his manner.— Do you ſuppoſe now, my dear little curtain duſter, that this Sir Thomas Flam, (as he calls himſelf) is a jon⯑tleman?’ —‘Certainly I do,’ (ſays Bridget,) with ſome emotion, fearing [182]they were diſcovered. ‘Don't be⯑lieve it, don't believe it, (returned Flint,) he's no more a jontleman than you are a prude;—you may always know a jontleman by his manner;—he has no more degnity than a baboon. He goes off like a flaſh in the pan, fitz,’ (imitating the ſound with his voice). ‘All men, Flint, (ſaid Bridget) are not alike; ſome have more degnity, as you call it, than others, witneſs yourſelf. They gain it often by ac⯑cident; the loſs of that eye, has made you look twice the man you would otherwiſe have looked.’—‘None of your flings, Mrs. Bridget, none of your flings at me, (returned [183]Flint), have a care, not to raiſe the lion, I tell you, Sir Thomas Flam is an impoſter. I know him, he is Mr. Dangle's ſervant, and if a lady had not been preſent, I would have kicked him out of the houſe.’ Here Bridget was much diſconcerted, but, thought ſhe, if I can but perſuade him to hold his tongue, till the marriage takes place, he may then tell it as ſoon as he will; and turning round to Flint, ‘But are you ſure you're right? (ſaid ſhe).’ ‘Sure as a rifle-barrel,’ (returned he). ‘An impudent ſcoun⯑drel! (ſays Bridget) Well Mr. Flint, I am much obliged to you for the diſcovery, and ſhall acquaint my Lady with it; but as it will be beſt to [184]puniſh him publickly, I muſt beg you to keep it a ſecret till an oppor⯑tunity offers to expoſe him when many are by.’—‘That, (replied he) will be a good joke, fait;—you may rely upon Flint.’—‘Swear it, (ſaid Bridget).’—‘I do, — by theſe ſweet lips I do.’ And here he found no difficulty to kiſs Mrs. Bridget, who knew her only chance was to keep this fellow ſilent. Flint aſked her when this ſame Sir Thomas Flam would be here again?— ‘In a few days, (ſaid Bridget). When we have laid the plan I will ſend you word, and till then, good bye to you.’ Flint took himſelf off, with Leave him but to little Flint, and [185]he'll bring him to a court-martial, and piquet him.

CHAP. XXVIII.

RAMBLE now received a letter from Miſs Raſpe, ſaying, that her father was determined to ſet out as the next day for Paris. That he had kept her in the dark till about two hours ago; that ſhe had tried various means to prevail on him to ſtay a few days longer, but nothing would do; till at laſt ſhe could only gain one day, in order to have her teeth ſet to rights [186]by a dentiſt, which ſhe thought a very neceſſary ſtep, as they might not have ſo good an opportunity again, between London and Florence; that this had effected the buſineſs, that he had con⯑ſented to her ſending for a dentiſt the next morning, and would ſtay a day longer on that account. She wiſhed the Colonel would therefore diſguiſe himſelf as a dentiſt, perſonate an old Frenchman, ſpeaking broken En⯑gliſh, introduce himſelf as Dr. Snag, and be with her at eleven in the morn⯑ing; and, ſhe flattered herſelf ſhe ſhould then have an opportunity of adjuſting what was neceſſary before they left London

[187]Ramble did not very well like this ſcheme, but the time being ſhort, he had no alternative; he procured a ſcar⯑let roquelaure, a bag of inſtruments, and type-wig, painted his face and ſet off the next morning on this awkward piece of enterprize. When he arrived at the houſe, he was introduced into the room where Mr. Raſpe ſeemed en⯑gaged. Raſpe hearing he was a Frenchman, and concluding he could enter into no converſation, and, in⯑deed he was ſo diſguiſed as to have all the appearance of a Frenchman; rang the bell for a ſervant, ſent him for his daughter, made a motion with his hand as deſiring him to be ſeated, and then proceeded on what he was about, [188]which ſeemed to be reading letters, and calculating reſpecting the Slave-Trade; for he was talking to himſelf and reckoning on his fingers. All Ram⯑ble could hear him ſay, was, Weſt-India markets overſtocked!—bad piece of buſineſs this—better throw the ſlaves overboard than ſell them under price;— keeep them long, they'll eat their heads off. Miſs Raſpe now came in⯑to the room. ‘Charlotte, the dentiſt waits for you, (ſaid he) I ſhall leave you to yourſelves; my teeth want a little doctering, when he has performed upon you, he ſhall do the ſame with met.’ He was no ſooner gone, than Miſs bolted the door, and the Colonel threw off his cloak, and laid [189]his inſtruments down, gave her a thou⯑ſand thank for this well-contrived in⯑terview, but feared there would be no⯑means of getting her away, till they reached Paris. Miſs Raſpe was of the ſame opinion, particularly as their ſtay in London would would be ſo ſhort. Ram⯑ble ſaid it was of no great moment, that a few more miles would make little difference. ‘Not, (ſaid Miſs Raſpe) unleſs we loſe ſight of each other.’ Ramble anſwered, ‘that will be impoſſible, unleſs he could travel in the clouds; every thing ſeems in a fair way. Had an oppor⯑tunity even offered, I could not have embraced it a few days ago, being in want caſh; but now I am provided. [190]Nothing, even in love, is to be done without money; the wheels will not turn, the horſes will not gallop, nor will the driver ſtart. Be aſſured I will watch your father's motions, for, having my dear angel, ſo great an object in view, I will never loſe ſight of it.’ During this interview they were allowed time enought to ſet⯑tle their plan of future proceedings. She could not acquaint him with the houſe they ſhould be at in Paris, as her father would not inform her; but it was ſettled, that ſhe ſhould let him know by a line ſent to the Engliſh Coffee-houſe. She ſaid their ſtay there would be ſhort, that no one would travel with them, but Brutus, the black, and [191]wiſhed he would contrive to take her from thence. He promiſed if poſſible to do it, and ſeemed to make very little doubt of accompliſhing it. Raſpe's foot being heard upon the ſtairs, ſhe unbolted the door, and Ramble put on his cloak. Raſpe coming into the room, and finding he had finiſhed with his daughter, ſat down, bad him look into his mouth, and ſee what was wanting. Ramble put on a pair of ſpectacles, and holding up his head by the chin, ſaid, ‘der is great deal of ſcurvy about dis head. Gums enflammeés. and vil be more vourſe,—dey ſhou'd be lanced.’ Raſpe bawls out, ‘Won't you hurt me? I can't bear pain, I am ſubject [192]to the tooth-ach.’ Miſs Raſpe ſtood behind all this time, and could not refrain from laughing at the oddity of the ſcence.— ‘Vat I ſhall do to them (ſaid Ramble) vil be very bon, and you vil ſcarce feel it; but you muſt take care not to catch cold after it.’—‘Be quick, (ſaid Raſpe) for I hate long jobs.’ ‘Dere then,’ ſaid Ramble, cutting his gums all acroſs with his lancet, very deep, and which bled very much Raſpe, jumping up with ſeeming pain, repeated his words, with great vociferation, ‘Dere then!— damn the fellow—won't pay him a farthing—he's lanced me with a vengeance—out of my room, Sir, or I'll be the death of you.’—‘Bleſs [193]me, (ſays Miſs Raſpe) how you bleed, Sir!—I'll fetch ſome water,’ and took that opportunity to run out; Dr. Snag followed her, obſerving, that it would keep him ſome days longer in London. And Rafpe, with his hand⯑kerhief to his mouth, made the beſt of his way after them.

Scarce an hour had elapſed after the Colonel had got home, before he re⯑ceived another letter from Miſs Raſpe, ſaying that her father had ſcolded her for ſending for ſo ignorant a fellow; had conſulted his apothecary, who adviſed him not to venture into the air till his gums were healed, of courſe took it for granted they ſhould ſtay a week longer; [194]and would contrive to ſee him again before they went. He took an oppor⯑tunity of returning Miſs Trevor the five hundred pounds ſhe had ſo generouſly advanced for him. Un⯑willing to take it himſelf, leaſt by another interview, he ſhould renew thoſe ſenſations that were, in ſome meaſure, aſleep; he ſent it by a friend, with a letter of unfeigned gratitude.

CHAP. XXIX.

WE muſt now turn our eyes to Lady Daſhit. Another inter⯑view with Tom had been appointed, wherein it was expected ſhe would de⯑clare her determination reſpecting him. She had ſeen him ſeveral times, and liked his perſon and manner; was ſatis⯑fied from Spatter's account of him, that his eſtate could not be ſo little as 2000l. a year; ſe, therefore, made up her mind on the buſineſs, and re⯑ſolved to be explicit when next he came. That time was now arrived, ſhe had been given to underſtand he meant to wait on her that morning; and, that [196]ſhe might not be interrupted, con⯑trived to get Miſs Trevor from home. Within an hour of his coming, ſhe had been long in diſcourſe with Bridget on Miſs Trevor's conduct; ſaid ſhe was an inconſiderate girl, paid very little regard to money, and that her ſending 500l. to releaſe Coloned Ramble, a perſon ſhe was almoſt a ſtranger to, was an evident proof of it; ſhe did not doubt but ſhe ſhould live to ſee the day, when ſhe'd be a begger; ‘Poſſibly, (ſaid her Ladyſhip,) ſhe may think to come in for ſome of mine; but I'll take care into what channel mine goes. Sir Thomas Flam ſhall have mine, every ſhilling of it.’—‘Ah, that he ſhould, (anſwered Bridget,) if I [197]were you, my lady. I wonder he has not been here, he generally keeps his time.’ Scarce had ſhe ſaid the word, but a great knocking was heard, ‘Per⯑haps, this is Sir Thomas, ſhall I go and ſee, my lady?’ Conſent being given, ſhe went, and Lady Daſhit, in the in⯑terim, determined to cloſe the buſineſs at once. Her words were, 'I ſhan't ſtand ſhilly-ſhally upon the occaſion, as girl's do.' Tom was uſhered in by Bridget, and, addreſſed Lady Daſhit, thus.— ‘My dear Lady Daſhit, I kiſs your hand. It ſeems and age ſince I ſaw you.’ Bridget was ordered by her lady to leave the room, obſerving ‘that wench would gladly have ſtaid and heard what we had to ſay. Cham⯑bermaids [198]the moſt curious and inqui⯑ſitive animals alive.’ ‘They are like gentlemens valets, (cried Tom) whoſe maſters too apt to put confidence in them, make them forward and im⯑pertinent; mine is too much ſo. Well now, my dear Madam, permit me to aſk you, whether you have taken the matter we were talking about into conſideration. I am impatient for the happy day.’—‘Perhaps too impatient, Sir Thomas, (replied her ladyſhip.) He that weds in haſte, ſay, the repents at leiſure.’—‘No, man, (returns Tom) can poſſibly re⯑repent giving his hand to one of Lady Daſhit's amiable qualifications, and....he was going on,’ when unfor⯑tunately [199]for him, Spatter, who had found his way into the houſe, and almoſt into the room, was ſtopped by Bridget on the landing-place, who was heard to ſay, without, ‘Indeed Mr. Spatter, you can't ſee my Lady now; ſhe is particularly engaged.’— Spatter was alſo heard to ſay, ‘I muſt ſee her; for I have news of the utmoſt importance to acquaint her with. I ſhall not detain her Ladyſhip a mi⯑nute.’ He was not to be put back, and Bridget thinking if ſhe opened the door, and he ſaw a gentleman with her, that he would naturally retire, opened it; but, on ſo doing, ſo far from withdrawing, he puſhed right into the room; Tom ſeeing him, drew back. [200] ‘My dear Lady Daſhit, I beg your par⯑don for this intruſion, but I have a matter for your private ear, that I am perſuaded you would wiſh to know.—Miſs Bloſſom is’...he was going on at a fine rate, but ſeeing Tom, ſtopped ſhort, ſaying, ‘I thought we had been alone; pray who is that gentleman?’—‘A particular friend of your's, (ſaid Lady Daſhit) who has done me the honour of a viſit.’ Spatter going up to Tom, ſaid, ‘Sir, I am your moſt obedient humble ſervant;’—then addreſſing himſelf to Lady Daſhit, ‘I have not the honour to know the gentleman; but not mat⯑ter, what I am going to relate is no ſecret; 'tis only that Lord Random [201]has returned Miſs Bloſſom, and will have nothing more to do with her.’ How (ſaid Lady Daſhit to herſelf) not know him—There muſt be ſomething treacherous in this piece of buſineſs, or Spatter muſt have told a lie; then addreſſing herſelf to Tom, ſaid, ‘Mr. Spatter is an old acquaintance of your's, Sir Thomas,?’—‘I proteſt, (replied Tom) I never ſaw the gen⯑tleman before.’—‘Mr. Spatter, (ſaid Lady Daſhit) didn't you tell me that you was perſonally acquainted with Sir Thomas Flam?—That's Sir Thomas Flam.’ Bridget, who was all this time in the room, drew up to Tom, and took an opportunity, unno⯑ticed, to whiſper in his ear, ‘Brazen [202]it out, you may be Sir Thomas Flam, or Lord Flam, for any thing he knows to the contrary.’ Spatter kept eying Tom all this time, and as unwilling as either of them to be found in a lie, determined to perſiſt in it, let what would be the conſequence, or he never ſhould be believed again. ‘Yes Madam, (ſaid he to Lady Daſhit), I have the pleaſure to be perſonally known to him, but your ladyſhip is joking with me now; this gentleman is no more Sir Thomas Flam, than I am Sir Thomas Flam.’ Tom then drew up to Spatter, angrily, ſaying, ‘how dare you preſume to falſify my perſon? You are diſco⯑vered in a barefaced lie, and now [203]want to bully it out; (then addreſ⯑ſing Lady Daſhit,) this man's cha⯑racter is too well-known. He is not acquainted with one man of faſhion in ten, that he boaſts of being known to.’—‘That I can take upon me to ſay, (whiſpers Bridget to her lady,) it was but the other day, he met with Lord Spangle, with whom he profeſ⯑ſed an acquaintance for years, and yet didn't know him:’ (then whiſ⯑pering to Tom,) ‘threaten him, and you'll ſoon get rid of him,’ and went out.

Spatter then addreſſed himſelf to Tom, ‘Such language as you have uſed to me, Sir, is not to be put up with. [204]Had I a ſword by my ſide, as you have, I'd let you ſee the length of it.’—‘Nothing, (replied Tom, loudly) but this lady's preſence prevents me from treating you as you deſerve.’ During theſe high words, who ſhould come in but Tom's maſter, leading in Miſs Trevor. Tom, thun⯑derſtruck, ſaid, ‘My maſter here too! Now 'tis all over. They're againſt the door, or I'd be off.’ (He draws back, ſeeking for an opportunity to eſcape). ‘What's the matter, Ma'am? (ſaid Miſs Trevor) I thought I heard high words, or I would not have intruded.’—‘It is very unpo⯑lite, gentlemen, (ſaid Dangle,) to be quarrelling in the company of a [205]lady.’ Spatter obſerved, it was no quarrel, only a warm debate about a matter of little conſequence. ‘It may be of little conſequence to you, gentlemen, (ſaid Lady Daſhit) but to me it is of the greateſt.’

Flint, having been ſent by his maſter, with Rattle and Saunter, to Saunter's houſe, in order to bring ſomething back; and paſſing by Lady Daſhit's where he ſaw the chair that had brought Sir Thomas Flam before, gave the gentlemen a ſhort account of what he knew, and wiſhed them to ſtep in; they, as deſirous as he could be of enjoying the confuſion that muſt ariſe on the diſcovery; knocked, and enquired if he was not there; and being [206]anſwered in the aſſirmative, ſaid, they had buſineſs of conſequence with Lady Daſhit, and muſt ſee her: accordingly they were admitted; and, the door being open, they entered the room during this ſcene. Tom finding himſelf furrounded by his enemies, endeavoured to ſlipaway, but Flint ſtopped him with, ‘Hold faſt there, honey, I muſt have a little bit of talk with you, before I go.’ (Tom walks about as angry, hanging his head, leſt he ſhould be known to his maſtèr.) You are come, gentle⯑men, ‘at a fortunate moment, (ſaid Dangle) Mr. Spatter has contrived to get himſelf into a quarrel with a gentleman here upon a viſit to Lady Daſhit. Swords were talked of, and, [207](laughing,) had it not been for our coming in, as we did, there might have been bloody work.’ Miſs Trevor and Lady Daſhit now retired to the other part of the room, converſi with each other, and Saunter, who was of a ſatyrical turn, obſerved to Dangle, laughing, ‘that if blood had been ſhed, it would have been ſlaying the enemy without quarter, which, in my opimon, (ſaid he) is murder; for Spatter, I'll be ſworn, would have made no re⯑ſiſtance but with his tongue; and as a coward cannot be an honeſt man, there muſt have been ſome foul play in Spatter.’ Dangle going up to Tom, addreſſes him with, ‘As a ſtranger, Sir,—(Here he ſtopped [208]for he did not diſcover him till this mo⯑ment) How's this? (cried he) my varlet of a ſervant dreſſed up in the habit of a gentleman?’ This was heard by the whole company. Flint anſwered him, ‘Yes your honour. He was retreating, but little Flint ſtopped him.’—‘Detain him, (ſaid Dangle) a little longer.’ Flint accordingly put him back, takes his ſword from him, and mounts guard, as it were, over him. ‘Mr. Dangle's ſervant! (exclaims Lady Daſhit, then have I been duped indeed. He paſſed himſelf on me, (ſaid ſhe to Dangle) for a Yorkſhire baronet.’—‘So I find, (retunred Rattle) We learned the greateſt part of what paſſed before we came in; [209]for Flint diſcovered him the laſt viſit he made to your ladyſhip, and came now with us to acquaint you with it.’ ‘Spatter's right for once, (ſaid Rattle) in not knowing him to be Sir Tho⯑mas Flam.’ At this Spatter began to triumph, ſaying, ‘and yet I could not obtain credit!’—‘Nay, returns Saunter) don't boaſt of your veracity; I'll appeal to Rattle, did not you tell me this morning, Rattle, of a conver⯑ſation that paſſed between you and Spatter, reſpecting an embarraſſment he was under here, in inadvertently, as he was pleaſed to term it, aſſert⯑ing to Lady Daſhit, that he was per⯑ſonally acquainted with Sir Thomas Flam, when he was conſcious there [210]was conſcious there was no ſuch man exiſting?’—‘I did, (anſwered Rattle) and am happy in being here to confront him.’—‘Perſidious man! (exclaimed Lady Daſhit) but I deſerve it.’—‘With what pro⯑priety, (ſaid Dangle to Spatter) can you expect to gain credit, when your whole life is made up of lies and de⯑ceit? My incautious diſpoſition led me, as it has done others, to entertain a favourable opinion of you. But you have always repreſented me as a man without reſolution. True enought, I wanted reſolution to drop you. I have at laſt found you out, and pronounce you to be a hypocri⯑tical, [211]goſſiping liar; a miſchief⯑maker in families; the bane of ſociety; and, of courſe, ought to be ſhunned as a peſtilence. You la⯑boured to lower me in the opinion of my friends, but your artiſices have been ſeen through, and we have to⯑tally done with you.’ Spatter now ſtruck down with conſcious guilt, ap⯑plied to Saunter to make his peace with Lady Daſhit, and with Dangle, but could not ſucceed; he then tried Rattle, but all to no purpoſe. He applied firſt to one and then to another, and finding them all againſt him, and reproaching him, he thought the beſt thing he could do, was to decamp, and accordingly [212]left the room. ‘Next (ſaid Rattle) to the ſatisfaction I receive in the proſperity of an honeſt man, I am beſt pleaſed in the confuſion of a raſcal.’ ‘Having now got rid (ſaid Dangle) of one raſcal, let's ſee what's to be done with the other. Flint bring forward your priſoner.’ Flint cries, ‘I will your honour,’ and marches him up. ‘The raſcal's very looks betray him, (ſaid Dangle). What, villain, was your view in all this?’—‘He want⯑ed, your honour, (anſwers Flint for him,) to marry Lady Daſhit under falſe colours.’—‘It is a pity, (re⯑turned Dangle) there is no law to pu⯑niſh ſuch a miſcreant as he deſerves. [213]The war is over, (ſays, Rattle) or we might ſend him for a ſoldier.’—‘No, your honour, (replied Flint) that would be diſgracing the profeſſion.’ ‘You're, right, Flint, (returned Rattle) I did not think of that.’—‘The beſt way, (ſaid Saunter) is, I believe, to put him into Flint's charge, and let him ſtrip him, and turn him into the ſtreet.’—‘No, not ſtrip him, (replies Dangle to Saunter) the cloathers are not mine, (and then to Tom,) let me ne⯑ver ſee your face again.’—‘Take him away, Flint, (ſaid Rattle).’—‘I will your honour (replied Flint) and, when I quit him, ſhall I give him a part⯑ing kick?’—‘Do what you will [214]with him, (ſaid Dangle) there's no⯑thing too bad for him.’ At this, Flint collared Tom, and dragged him, out, with ‘Come along, honey—come along, Sir Thomas Flam; come along;’ and the parties retired to talk the matter a little further over.

The reader will pardon a refletion naturally occurring on this ſubject, that it is the folly and weakneſs of ſome women that lays them open to ſuch ar⯑tifices, and if they are entrapped, it is in a ſnare of their own contriving: and, with reſpect to Spatter, however uſeful, or entertaining a man may render him⯑ſelf to his aequaintance, and have his [215]faluts thus overlooked for a time; there is no ſenſible man but ſees throught the deceptions of a knave, and will, in the end, ſet his face againſt him.