Life; or, the adventures of William Ramble, Esq. With three frontispieces, designed by Ibbetson, ... and two new and beautiful songs, with the music by Pleyel and Sterkel. By the author of Modern times; or, the adventures of Gabriel Outcast. In three volumes.: [pt.1]

Table of contents

- [titlepage]

- CONTENTS.

- ERRATA.

- [song]

- [song]

- CHAP. I.

- CHAP. II.

- CHAP. III.

- CHAP. IV.

- CHAP. V.

- CHAP. VI.

- CHAP. VII.

- CHAP. VIII.

- CHAP. IX.

- CHAP. X.

- CHAP. XI.

- CHAP. XII.

- CHAP. XIII.

- CHAP. XIV.

THE ADVENTURES OF WILL. RAMBLE, ESQ.

END OF VOL. I.

LIFE; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF WILLIAM RAMBLE, ESQ. WITH THREE FRONTISPIECES, DESIGNED BY IBBETSON, HIGHLY ENGRAVED, AND TWO NEW and BEAUTIFUL SONGS, WITH THE MUSIC BY PLEYEL AND STERKEL.

By the Author of MODERN TIMES; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF GABRIEL OUTCAST.

IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. I.

LONDON: Printed for Dr. TRUSLER, and sold at the Literary Press, No 62, WARDOUR STEET, SOHO.

1793.

CONTENTS.

VOL. I.

- Chap. 1 SOME account of Ramble and Corporal Flint Page. 1

- Chap. 2 His first acquaintance with Raspe and a Scotch family; falls in love with Miss Raspe; Macanocky, a Scotch priest, introduced Page. 13

- Chap. 3 Raspe quarrels with the family Page. 26

- Chap. 4 A storm gathers Page. 40

- Chap. 5 Ramble arrives in London, meets Simple and his sister Page. 59

- Chap. 6 Character of a money-lending Jew. A scheme of Miss Simple's to carry off Miss Whip Page. 71

- Chap. 7 Description of a fat club and a lean one Page. 82

- Chap. 8 Ramble becomes acquainted with Spatter Page. 93

- Chap. 9 Character of Dolly Whip and her mother Page. 99

- Chap. 10 Lady Dashit introduced. A dialogue between a coxcomb and a lady Page. 106

- Chap. 11 A new character introduced, Jack Latitat Page. 122

- Chap. 12 A scheme laid to ensnare Lady Dashit, by her maid Page. 140

- Chap. 13 Farther traits of Spatter's character Page. 149

- Chap. 14 Three new characters, Dangle, Saunter, and Rattle Page. 165

VOL. II.

- Chap. 15 The Whig Club Page. 3

- Chap. 16 Conference between Lady Dashit's maid and Dangle's valet Page. 34

- Chap. 17 Spatter in a scrape Page. 40

- Chap. 18 Ramble arrested. Reflexions on lawyers Page. 52

- Chap. 19 Character of a sheriff's officer. Further traits of Latitat. Reflexions on the law of arrests Page. 68

- Chap. 20 Character of one who buys a good name Page. 86

- Chap. 21 Description of a London mob Page. 97

- Chap. 22 Tom, Dangle's valet, introduced as Sir Thomas Flam, to Lady Dashit, by Flint Page. 104

- Chap. 23 An interview between Flint and Bridget, Lady Dashit's maid Page. 117

- Chap. 23 Ramble pleads his friend's cause with Miss Trevor Page 125

- Chap. 24 Ramble's reflexions. Quarrels with Dangle Page. 138

- Chap. 25 Ramble meets Miss Raspe at Grumble's, the attorney Page. 155

- Chap. 26 An interview between Spatter and Lady Dashit Page. 166

- Chap. 27 Dialogue between Flint and Bridget Page. 174

- Chap. 28 Ramble sees Miss Raspe disguised as a dentist Page. 185

- Chap. 29 A second interview between Lady Dashit and Tom. Spatter breaks in on them, is discovered by him and others, and turned out Page. 195

VOL. III.

- Chap. 30 Bridget's design upon Ramble Page. 3

- Chap. 31 Raspe takes his daughter to Paris, Ramble follows Page. 16

- Chap. 32 Scene at a perukier's Page. 26

- Chap. 33 Lackit, a new character introduced Page. 33

- Chap. 34 Uncommon dialogue at a coffeehouse Page. 47

- Chap. 35 Confusion in Paris, Raspe is taken up. Reflexions on the French Page. 65

- Chap. 36 Ramble disputes with a French officer and fights Page. 84

- Chap. 37 A new character Page. 92

- Chap. 38 Ramble finds Miss Raspe, carries her off, marries her Page. 97

- Chap. 39 Ramble goes to Naples, Raspe follows. A specimen of street oratory. Raspe plans to take away Ramble's life. Hires a Bravo to assassinate him. His interview with this Bravo Page. 111

- Chap. 40 Prince Caraccioli invites Ramble to a theatrical entertainment. Brutus drawn over by the Bravo to murder his master Page. 126

- Chap. 41 Ramble resolves to turn Raspe's plot to his own advantage. Anecdote of a Parisian widow Page. 137

- Chap. 42 Humorous anecdote of a priest Page. 147

- Chap. 43 Account of an Italian musical entertainment Page 160

- Chap. 44 Ramble disarms the Bravo, saves Raspe's life, and all parties are reconciled Page 168, 177

ERRATA.

VOL. I.

- Page. 18 last line but one, for scattering read scattered

- Page. 55 last line, read This opinion of

- Page. 69 line 5. for ever read even

- Page. 70 line 5. for attend read attended

- Page. 72 last line but one, should run thus;—not but acquiesce in these sentiments

- Page. 73 line 2. for he enlivens read to enliven —13. for as read was

- Page. 77 last line but two, dele not

- Page. 89 line 4. after secured read they

VOL. II.

- Page. 95 line 11. for forgot read forget

- Page. 150 last line but one, for was read being

- Page. 163 last line but two, after self read and

- Page. 206 line 10. for I read you

- Page. 207 line 5. for conversi read conversing

VOL. III.

- Page. 14 line 12. for a read and

- Page. 22 line 10. dele and

- Page. 116 line 12. for then read that

- Page. 128 line 2. for lose read love

- There are some others, but of no importance.

- Place the Song—Pleyel, face page 38.

- —Sterkel, face page 71.

The Music by Pleyel

Andante

〈♫〉

It may be Love-I can-not tell; So simple is my mind, Yet much I fear some ma-gic spell, Some wreath by fa-ries twin'd; Which those who wear, are doom'd by Fate, to feel their senses fly;—To smile up-on the treachrous Bait, then weep-they know not why.

By Sterkel

MARCH

〈♫〉

Un-roll the Banners, strike the tents; Clouds of dust an-nounce the foe. ad-vance the Mortars, Load the guns; keep the phalanx as you go. What should a-larm us? See they form. Conquest e-ludes th'impending storm, Bush Lads bold-ly, charge with spirit; Warriors martial Souls in-herit. See. see, they fly us; Keep the line. Shouts of joy the foe dismays. Sound, sound the trumpets, blow the fifes; Beat the drums and snatch the bays.

Sung to the 2d. Part.

Where's now the danger▪ &c.

CHAP. I.

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

Novels have been introduced to delineate and depict this scene, and characters have been drawn to shew the manners and disposition of the people|; but they have in general been so ill penned, as to destroy the very end they aimed at. The characters they have exhibited, have been so deformed, as to bear no resemblance to nature; the traits of life have been so exaggerated, and the truth of things so masked, as to deceive the reader, instead of informing him; and the dullnesss and insipidity of modern novels have been such, as to disgust and tire him, before he has got half way through them. There are but few men capable of painting life as it is, those only who have travelled on, for a number of years, through the various scenes of it, and made observations as they passed; and even these without the happy art of drawing characters to the life, making a proper selection of them, and bringing them in properly to their aid, can neither hope to improve, or to entertain: but a novel fraught with observation, full of incident, and replete with worldly knowledge, is the most instructive book a young mind can read; for thus, learning wisdom from the rashness and folly of others, he will be able to see his way before him, avoid the snares and calamities too often attendant upon life, and, perhaps, make his way to the end of it, with ease and comfort.

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

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

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

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

His name was Flint, and his rank a Corporal. When his master consigned him to my friend, he said, ‘Flint, you have had a hard service with me, and it is time you should have a furlough. I am almost worn out in arms; you are a young man, (for he was not more than forty years of age) and that quiet retreat, that I may coyet, will ill suit your busy, bustling spirit; I recommend you, therefore, •o my friend Ramble; he is a brother-soldier, if another war should break out, with him you may see a little more of service; be faithful to him, as you have been to me, and he will love you as much as I do.’ "Flint," returned the Corporal, ‘and plaise your honor, will sarve your friend as he would sarve yourself. Ill as dame Fortune has treated me, I shall not be unwilling to enlist again under her banners, and give our enemies another drubbing; and if I find in Squire Ramble, as good a commander as your honor, I trust he will find me as good a soldier.’

CHAP. II.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAP. III.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAP. IV.

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

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

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

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

The incidents of the day entirely discomposed the family, nor could they sit down to any regular supper. Mr. Campbell, an infirm old man, had retired to his bed, and Macanochy, whose spirit of quietism nothing could disorder, who felt himself at home in whatever house of the parish he was in, had got a snack in the larder regaled himself alone with a pinch of snuff, and a bottle of ale, and stole away to his closet, where he was accustomed to sleep when at this house. This was unknown to any of the family, who imagined he was gone; indeed, go to what house he would, he always took his nightcap in his pocket. This closet was a recess, behind the partition of one of the rooms, just large enough to hold a bed, as is the custom in Scotland, and the sliding wainscot was so contrived, as to close and shut it in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAP. V.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This said, she left him in a pet.

CHAP. VI.

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

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

The master of the Hotel knew little but the art getting money, and of that he had amassed a considerable fortune; in other respects he was exceedingly weak, his name was Whip. He had an only child a daughter, as silly and weak as himself; her mother, indeed, had a little more knowledge and foresight, but as weak men are generally most obstinate, she could do little in opposition to her husband. The girl had a smattering for music, and her father, thinking her wonderfully clever, indulged her in this penchant to a ridiculous excess. It was owing to his fondness for this girl, and Charles and his sister having some knowledge of music, and taking notice of her, that induced the landlord to give them the credit he had done; for these people, in general, soon find out the circumstances of their guests, and never suffer them to run up a long bill, unless where there is plenty of money to pay it.

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

CHAP. VII.

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

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

CHAP. VIII.

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

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

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

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

CHAP. IX.

DOLLY Whip, I have observed, had a little notion of music, and sung prettily, which she was induced to attend to, more than ordinary, from an opportunity it gave her of being more frequently in company with Charles Simple and his sister. Her mother was a plain woman, but foresaw the ill effects it might produce, and liked neither the amusement nor the company it led her into.— ‘'Tis intolerable, Dolly, (said she one day) to see you spending half your time, drumming on that wooden box, playing the fool up and down, and acting, as you do;’ (for a taste for singing led her also to acting, and she would occasionally take off the singers on the stage.) ‘This enthusiasm of your father's, in music, plays, and the like, must end in his ruin; and it ill becomes a girl of your fortune to be thus wasting your time:’ And on her saying, in return, she should like, of all things, to be an actress; would rate her with, ‘Hussy, do you know what an actress is?’—‘Yes, Mamma; (says she) there are a great many lords and ladies actresses now. Music and acting, Miss Simple says, are all the mode; nothing else is talked of. The newspapers don't tell us, that Miss Such-a-one of ten thousand pounds fortune, and Miss Such-a-one, of twenty thousand, is arrived in town, or has left it; but they are continually speaking of the musical people.—Storace is engaged at the opera-house; Marchesi is gone to Italy; Rubinelli is to supply his place. Why, Mamma, these opera-singers must be much coveted, when they are sent for so far to entertain us. Miss Simple says, kings can make dukes, generals, and admirals, but no one can make operasingers but the pope; I asked her how that was, but she would not tell me. Now, Mamma, let me ask you, whether my singing does not constantly bring a great deal of good company to our house, that turns out to Papa's benefit?’—And on the mother's saying, ‘Yes; company that will ruin him, if they don't ruin you; ’ she went on, ‘They are too complaisant to ruin me; you can't conceive what fine things they say to me, and are always on their knees, kissing my hand, and praising my beauty. Count Bragoni says I am an angel; Baron Brigel a divinity; the Chevalier calls me a Cecilia; and Sir Michael Molasses declares my breath is sweeter than a sugar-cane; Mr. A. calls me enchanting; Mr. B. is in raptures with my eyes; Mr. C. with my shape; one with my teeth; another with my neck; and another with the small of my leg.’

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

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

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

CHAP. X.

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

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

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

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

And their eyes told each other

What neither dare name.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAP. XI.

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

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

CHAP. XII.

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

Bridget.

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

Tom.

What has Miss Trevor and she quarrelled?

Bridget.

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

Tom.

Beauty! (laughing) a superanuated, old....

Bridget.

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

Tom.

And how did she take it?

Bridget.

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

Tom.

I do not know.

Bridget.

Guess.

Tom.

I have not the least conception.

Bridget.

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

Tom.

I thank you, kindly, for the compliment.

Bridget.

Can't you guess now?

Tom.

Not I.

Bridget.

Dull oaf, — that, though necessity obliges him sometimes to wear a cast coat, is as much of a gentleman (examining Tom again,) as any gentlemanvalet need be.

Tom.

But you called him a man of distinction.

Bridget.

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

Tom.

Oh, — now I understand you.

Bridget.

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

Tom.

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

Bridget.

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

Tom, considering.

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

Bridget.

Suppose you are,—and suppose I let you off: if we marry, as we are, we must always be servants; but marry her and we'll divide her fortune between us, and then, if you have that fondness for me, you pretend, you may have me afterwards. For as parson ...what d'ye call him, says, a man may have as many wives as he will; besides, as 'tis the fashion to live together in the old natural way, without being married, we may follow the example of our betters, and leave the ceremony out of the question.

Tom.

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

Bridget.

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

Tom.

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

Bridget.

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

Tom.

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

CHAP. XIII.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAP. XIV.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Information about this book

Title statement

Life; or, the adventures of William Ramble, Esq. With three frontispieces, designed by Ibbetson, ... and two new and beautiful songs, with the music by Pleyel and Sterkel. By the author of Modern times; or, the adventures of Gabriel Outcast. In three volumes.: [pt.1]

Trusler, John, 1735-1820.

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University of Oxford Text Archive
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http://ota.ox.ac.uk/id/4520

ID [isbn10]

1106015193

ID [isbn13]

9781106015198

ID [TCP]

K060044.001

ID [BIBNO]

cw3310670597

ID [ECLL]

0200900301

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— Life; or, the adventures of William Ramble, Esq. With three frontispieces, designed by Ibbetson, ... and two new and beautiful songs, with the music by Pleyel and Sterkel. By the author of Modern times; or, the adventures of Gabriel Outcast. In three volumes., Trusler, John, 1735-1820.. 3v.,8 plates : music ; 12⁰. London :: printed for Dr. Trusler, and sold at the Literary Press,. 1793.. [Author of Modern times = John Trusler.] [Reproduction of original from the British Library.] [English Short Title Catalog, ESTCT70718.] [Electronic data. Farmington Hills, Mich. : Thomson Gale, 2003. Page image (PNG). Digitized image of the microfilm version produced in Woodbridge, CT by Research Publications, 1982-2002 (later known as Primary Source Microfilm, an imprint of the Gale Group).]

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