Decision came to Job’s help—at least help out of that field. At this very moment of need for some one to help him decide what course to pursue, a ferocious bull, feeding in the next meadow, annoyed or scandalized by the appearance of Job, scaled the low fence, and with one bellow, ran full tilt after Job, who hesitated no longer, but leaped the rail fence just as the animal made a lunge at him. Job reached the highway in safety of person, though the bull retreated with a full square yard of the false flag of truce upon his horns.
Job’s destitution seemed perfect without this last affliction. The sound of carriage wheels startled him, but to where should he flee? He was at the zero of his fortunes. He was naked, hungry, penniless. Where should he find one friend.
“Ah! the river!” That would hide him forever from the uncharitable world!...
Job crawled across the field, and was already near the stream.
What! Had some pitying angel, softened by Job’s utter destitution and despair, alighted amongst the bushes! Or was it a temptation of the devil?
Reader, “put yourself in”—No! But imagine Job reduced to the moiety of a shirt, about to take the fatal plunge, when lo! he discovers just before him, lying,—a golden waif,—a very handsome suit of clothes,—hat, breeches, hose, shoes, gloves, cane, cravat! and no visible second person near.
Job’s perplexity was brief. He seated himself on the grass. He changed his equivocal shirt for the ample piece of ruffled “aired-snow” in the twinkling of an eye; donned the stockings and breeches,—“just a fit,”—waistcoat, and coat, seized the hat, gloves, cravat, and cane, and in three minutes he was back on the main road. The swimmer must have been just Job’s size, so admirably did the whole wardrobe fit and become him.
Again Job passed the five-barred gate, where stood the bull, with glaring eyes, waving in vain the flag of truce upon his horns.
Job journeyed onward, waving his cane, and smiling in supreme contempt at the bit of rag which so recently proclaimed his crime and wretchedness. He put his hand into his pocket, and pulled out a purse! It contained eight guineas! This was too much. Job fell upon his knees in the highway, overcome with gratitude, and holding up the purse in his left hand, placing the other over his stomach, he “blessed his lucky stars” for his propitious change of fortunes.
Here we bid adieu to the barber-bleeders. Those who wish to know how the swimmer came out, must consult “Men of Character,” by Jerrold.