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.2]

Table of contents

- [titlepage]

- CHAP. XV.

- CHAP. XVI.

- CHAP. XVII.

- CHAP. XVIII.

- CHAP. XIX.

- CHAP. XX.

- CHAP. XXI.

- Chap. XXII.

- CHAP. XXIII.

- CHAP. XXIII.

- CHAP. XXIV.

- CHAP. XXV.

- CHAP. XXVI.

- CHAP. XXVII.

- CHAP. XXVIII.

- CHAP. XXIX.

THE ADVENTURES OF WILL. RAMBLE, ESQ.

END OF THE SECOND VOLUME.

LIFE; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF WILLIAM RAMBLE, ESQ.

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

IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. II.

LONDON: Printed for Dr. TRUSLER, and sold at the LITERARY PRESS, No. 62, WARDOUR-STREET, SOHO.

1793.

CHAP. XV.

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

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

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

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

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

Keep up appearances: there lies the text,

The would will give thee credit for the rest.

Churchill.

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

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

CHAP. XVI.

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

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

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

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

Tom. Let Tom alone for that; I believe he has as much to say to the women, and knows as well how to please them, as any gentleman in town.

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

Tom. We shall be interrupted.

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

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

Bridg. Flam.

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

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

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

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

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

CHAP. XVII.

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

CHAP. XVIII.

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

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

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

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

CHAP. XIX.

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

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

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

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

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

CHAP. XX.

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

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

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

CHAP. XXI.

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

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

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

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

Chap. XXII.

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

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

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

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

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

CHAP. XXIII.

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

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

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

CHAP. XXIII.

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

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

‘It might, (said she) be an act of friendship to him, but it surely could be none to me; however, Sir, on condition that you never mention him again, I shall think no more of it.’ Bridget now entered the room; she asked if every thing was ready for her above; and being answered in the affirmative, looked at her watch, apologized to the Colonel for leaving him so abruptly, fear'd she should not be dressed in time, ordered her servant to wait on him down, and left him, with a heart wretched at the disappointment. Ramble felt himself much hurt at this;—his good-nature, and readiness to oblige his friend, had caused him to offend a lady he really respected; and various were the suggestions that immediately struck him. He could not but dwell on the charms of Miss Trevor, and lament that ill luck which engaged him to plead a cause, in which he was become so entangled.

CHAP. XXIV.

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

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

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

CHAP. XXV.

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

CHAP. XXVI.

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

CHAP. XXVII.

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

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

CHAP. XXVIII.

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

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

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

CHAP. XXIX.

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

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

Flint, having been sent by his master, with Rattle and Saunter, to Saunter's house, in order to bring something back; and passing by Lady Dashit's where he saw the chair that had brought Sir Thomas Flam before, gave the gentlemen a short account of what he knew, and wished them to step in; they, as desirous as he could be of enjoying the confusion that must arise on the discovery; knocked, and enquired if he was not there; and being answered in the assirmative, said, they had business of consequence with Lady Dashit, and must see her: accordingly they were admitted; and, the door being open, they entered the room during this scene. Tom finding himself furrounded by his enemies, endeavoured to slipaway, but Flint stopped him with, ‘ Hold fast there, honey, I must have a little bit of talk with you, before I go.’ (Tom walks about as angry, hanging his head, lest he should be known to his mastèr.) You are come, gentlemen, ‘at a fortunate moment, (said Dangle) Mr. Spatter has contrived to get himself into a quarrel with a gentleman here upon a visit to Lady Dashit. Swords were talked of, and, (laughing,) had it not been for our coming in, as we did, there might have been bloody work.’ Miss Trevor and Lady Dashit now retired to the other part of the room, conversi with each other, and Saunter, who was of a satyrical turn, observed to Dangle, laughing, ‘that if blood had been shed, it would have been slaying the enemy without quarter, which, in my opimon, (said he) is murder; for Spatter, I'll be sworn, would have made no resistance but with his tongue; and as a coward cannot be an honest man, there must have been some foul play in Spatter.’ Dangle going up to Tom, addresses him with, ‘As a stranger, Sir,—(Here he stopped for he did not discover him till this moment) How's this? (cried he) my varlet of a servant dressed up in the habit of a gentleman?’ This was heard by the whole company. Flint answered him, ‘Yes your honour. He was retreating, but little Flint stopped him.’—‘Detain him, (said Dangle) a little longer.’ Flint accordingly put him back, takes his sword from him, and mounts guard, as it were, over him. ‘Mr. Dangle's servant! (exclaims Lady Dashit, then have I been duped indeed. He passed himself on me, (said she to Dangle) for a Yorkshire baronet.’—‘So I find, (retunred Rattle) We learned the greatest part of what passed before we came in; for Flint discovered him the last visit he made to your ladyship, and came now with us to acquaint you with it.’ ‘Spatter's right for once, (said Rattle) in not knowing him to be Sir Thomas Flam.’ At this Spatter began to triumph, saying, ‘and yet I could not obtain credit!’—‘Nay, returns Saunter) don't boast of your veracity; I'll appeal to Rattle, did not you tell me this morning, Rattle, of a conversation that passed between you and Spatter, respecting an embarrassment he was under here, in inadvertently, as he was pleased to term it, asserting to Lady Dashit, that he was personally acquainted with Sir Thomas Flam, when he was conscious there was conscious there was no such man existing?’—‘I did, (answered Rattle) and am happy in being here to confront him.’—‘Persidious man! (exclaimed Lady Dashit) but I deserve it.’—‘With what propriety, (said Dangle to Spatter) can you expect to gain credit, when your whole life is made up of lies and deceit? My incautious disposition led me, as it has done others, to entertain a favourable opinion of you. But you have always represented me as a man without resolution. True enought, I wanted resolution to drop you. I have at last found you out, and pronounce you to be a hypocritical, gossiping liar; a mischiefmaker in families; the bane of society; and, of course, ought to be shunned as a pestilence. You laboured to lower me in the opinion of my friends, but your artisices have been seen through, and we have totally done with you.’ Spatter now struck down with conscious guilt, applied to Saunter to make his peace with Lady Dashit, and with Dangle, but could not succeed; he then tried Rattle, but all to no purpose. He applied first to one and then to another, and finding them all against him, and reproaching him, he thought the best thing he could do, was to decamp, and accordingly left the room. ‘Next (said Rattle) to the satisfaction I receive in the prosperity of an honest man, I am best pleased in the confusion of a rascal. ’ ‘Having now got rid (said Dangle) of one rascal, let's see what's to be done with the other. Flint bring forward your prisoner.’ Flint cries, ‘I will your honour,’ and marches him up. ‘The rascal's very looks betray him, (said Dangle). What, villain, was your view in all this?’—‘He wanted, your honour, (answers Flint for him,) to marry Lady Dashit under false colours.’—‘It is a pity, (returned Dangle) there is no law to punish such a miscreant as he deserves. The war is over, (says, Rattle) or we might send him for a soldier.’—‘No, your honour, (replied Flint) that would be disgracing the profession.’ ‘You're, right, Flint, (returned Rattle) I did not think of that.’—‘The best way, (said Saunter) is, I believe, to put him into Flint's charge, and let him strip him, and turn him into the street.’—‘No, not strip him, (replies Dangle to Saunter) the cloathers are not mine, (and then to Tom,) let me never see your face again.’—‘Take him away, Flint, (said Rattle).’—‘I will your honour (replied Flint) and, when I quit him, shall I give him a parting kick?’—‘Do what you will with him, (said Dangle) there's nothing too bad for him.’ At this, Flint collared Tom, and dragged him, out, with ‘Come along, honey—come along, Sir Thomas Flam; come along;’ and the parties retired to talk the matter a little further over.

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

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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.2]

Trusler, John, 1735-1820.

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University of Oxford Text Archive
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ID [ota]

http://ota.ox.ac.uk/id/4521

ID [isbn10]

1106015207

ID [isbn13]

9781106015204

ID [TCP]

K060044.002

ID [BIBNO]

cw3310670778

ID [ECLL]

0200900302

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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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