Fidget because he was a naughty boy and would not sit still, Polly Giddybrains, for losing her needle and thread paper, and, Lord bless me! my ma'am was so cross, that she was going to put the nasty fool's cap on my head, only for miscalling the first word in my lesson."—"In short she was such a notorious telltale, that she was soon dignified by her school fellows with the honourable appellation of Dolly Cagmag. As she advanced in years, the habit grew upon her; and when she was old enough to be introduced into company, and go a visiting, she carried on the same mischievous and despicable trade abroad, in which she had met with such encouragement at home. Whatever she saw or heard in one place, she would be sure to report it in another; so that all the masters and misses who had the mortification to fall into her company, considered themselves as under the malicious inspection of a meddlesome spy; which they had the more reason to do, because she seldom failed to embellish her informations with the recital of several unfavourable circumstances of her own invention." "Indeed, Mr. Wiseman, said Betsey, my youngest daughter, what you have told us is exactly true; for I have been in company with Miss Chatterfast several times, and I remember once in particular that when Master Sprightly, who was a merry young spark, had stolen a kiss from Miss Patty Sweetlips, though the poor young lady blushed as red as scarlet, and seemed to be greatly displeased at the freedom which had been taken with her, Miss Chatterfast was so mischievous as to represent her to all her acquaintance as a bold little hussey, who loved to be kissed by the young gentlemen. When poor innocent Patty was informed of the character which had been so unjustly fixed upon her, she was ashamed to stir out of doors, and laid it so much to heart I thought she would have cried her eyes out." "This was very unkind indeed, replied the good Bramin; and yet, I sincerely believe that all the mischief her tongue was guilty of, was more owing to her vanity and that talkative humour in which she had always been encouraged from her infancy, than to any real malice in her heart. She had been long accustomed to speak without thinking, and naturally imagined that her impertinent loquacity would be as much admired and applauded by other people as by her thoughtless parents. I have the satisfaction, however, to observe that you are perfectly sensible of her mistake, though she had not the good fortune to be so herself. If she had lived much longer, it is very probable that the many slights and affronts she must necessarily have met with, would have opened her eyes: For those who by their impertinent censures set the whole world at defiance, may reasonably expect to find an enemy in every house they enter. But her meddlesome, inquisitive disposition proved to be the accidental means of shortening her days, before she had experience enough to correct it: for, one evening, Mr. Kindly, a wealthy merchant, indulged all the young masters and misses in the neighbourhood with a splendid ball at his own house: Miss Chatterfast, though she had at that time a severe cold upon her, was so desirous of embracing such a favourable opportunity of making her remarks upon the behaviour and different dresses of the company, and thereby furnishing herself with an ample stock for conversation, that she could not be prevailed upon by her too indulgent parents to spend the evening at home. The consequence was such as might naturally have been expected. By first over heating herself at the ball, and afterwards exposing herself to the night air in her return home, her cold, (which was bad enough before) suddenly increased into a violent fever which hurried her to the grave in the short space of five or six days. Though her untimely death excited the transient pity of most of her acquaintance, very few of them, I believe, were really sorry to part with her. But notwithstanding that violent propensity to exercise her tongue, which she too frequently indulged to the vexation of her neighbours, she had a large fund of good nature at the bottom; so that I am in hopes that she will soon be restored to the rank of human beings, and have an opportunity of employing her speaking faculties with greater discretion and in a more agreeable manner than she did before. Her former loquacity (as I have already observed) was almost entirely owing to that vanity and want of thought, in which she had been too much encouraged by the simple fondness of her parents; but the low station in which she now appears, will probably teach her to be more humble and considerate, and of consequence to check that talkative humour which in her past lifetime formed the most remarkable part of her character." Poor mag (who, I suppose, understood every word the Bramin said) wagged her tail a little, as we left the room, but did not think proper to utter a single chatter.
CHAP. IV.
The Transmigration of Master Stephen Churl into the Body of a little Cur.
In the next apartment we entered, we saw a little snarling cur, who immediately saluted us with a surly grin, and barked and yelped as if he would have torn the house down. He was indeed very securely chained to a small kennel; but my daughter Betsey happening to venture too near him, he snapped at her and tore her apron. "Take care, miss, said Mr. Wiseman, and keep out of his reach; for though he is but a cur, he is very mischievous. His body is the contemptible residence of the soul of the late Master Churl. Poor miserable youth! he was a wrangler from his infancy; and his litigious temper gave him as just a title to the name of Churl as his birth. Even when he was a child in arms, he was such a peevish and noisy little brat, that his mamma could not find a woman who would undertake the trouble of nursing him; and as soon as he was able to speak and run alone, he began to wrangle with his brothers and sisters, upon the most trifling occasions, and seldom forgot to support his argument by exerting his little hands and heels with the most malicious activity; so that to mortify his pride, and give a check to his ill nature, they bestowed upon him the disgraceful title of young Kick and Cuff. Poor Stephen, however bid defiance to all their ridicule, and was so far from being reclaimed by it, that his turbulence increased in proportion to his strength and stature. He was afterwards as quarrelsome at school as he had been at home; and in every party at taw, or trap ball, or any other innocent diversion in which he happened to be engaged, he was always remarkable for disturbing the game by his frivolous disputes: Nay, when he was only a looker on, he would betray his wrangling impertinent temper, by calling out, such a one does not play fairly; such a one counts too many; and such a one goes in before his turn. The usual reward he received for his trouble was, a handsome drubbing, sometimes from his master, but more frequently from his school fellows. He was equally notorious for his great forwardness to give a challenge, upon the slightest provocation, and very often from mere wantonness; and sometimes he would very unfairly begin an engagement without giving any previous notice, that he might make sure of the first blow. But his strength and skill being unequal to his pretensions, the many mortifying defeats he received, soon taught him the despicable cunning of assaulting none but those, who, he believed, were either too weak to contend with him, or too cowardly to stand in their own defence. The speedy consequence of such a dirty conduct was, that the bigger boys despised and laughed at him, and those who were less than himself, carefully shunned his company; so that at last poor wrangling Stephen, for want of play-fellows, had no other diversion left for him, but to take a solitary ramble through the fields. His parents being informed of the disagreeable situation into which he had brought himself, and what a shy reception he met with from all the boys in the neighbourhood, thought it adviseable, after giving him a strict caution to behave in a more peaceable manner for the future, to remove him to a genteel boarding school, at a distance from home. If he had thought proper to follow their advice, and make a diligent use of the excellent
instructions he received from his new teachers, he might afterwards have cut a shining figure in the world; but, as what is bred in the bone, seldom gets out of the flesh, so it fared with Stephen Churl. Though he was a little reserved at first, as being entirely among strangers, a short acquaintance with them made him very familiar—the affability and good nature with which they listened to every thing he said, soon encouraged him to be pert; and from pertness he proceeded to open rudeness and ill manners—until at last happening to be very mildly reprimanded by one of the young gentlemen, whose tenderness he misconstrued into cowardice, he commenced hostilities, as usual, by giving him an unexpected blow on the face. But his antagonist being possessed of as much spirit as politeness, returned the compliment in an instant; and conducted the engagement on his side with such vigour and activity, that our hero soon retired from the field of battle heartily drubbed, to make his complaint to the master, who, after a minute inquiry into all the circumstances of the fray, thought proper to reward him for the unnecessary trouble he had given himself, with the severest flogging he had ever received in his life time. Thus mortified and disgraced, the unfortunate Stephen resolved upon an elopement; but, being ashamed to return to his parents, he rambled through the fields and woods, and scrambled over hedges and ditches,
until at length having torn his clothes to rags, and being almost ready to perish with hunger, he eagerly listed himself into a gang of gypsies, and supped very heartily upon the remains of a roasted cat. The intolerable hardships he suffered, and the coarse fare he was obliged to put up with in this new situation, together with the frequent bangs and thumps which he received from the younger part of his strolling comrades, who were as quarrelsome and mischievous as himself, but abundantly more robust, soon broke his heart; so that he died in a barn, and was buried, like a beggar, at the expense of a little country parish." While the Bramin was concluding the history of Master Churl, my son Jackey, whose temper was rather too fiery, looked very sheepish; which his sister Betsey observing, and easily guessing the cause of it, she desired him with a good natured smile, when we were leaving the room, to think on poor Stephen, and be sure to take warning.
CHAP. V.