“Right, Mr. Jonson!” said I; “but shall I own to you that I am surprised that a gentleman of your talents should stoop to the lower arts of the profession. I always imagined that pickpocketing was a part of your business left only to the plebeian purloiner; now I know, to my cost, that you do not disdain that manual accomplishment.”
“Your honour speaks like a judge,” answered Job: “the fact is, that I should despise what you rightly designate ‘the lower arts of the profession,’ if I did not value myself upon giving them a charm, and investing them with a dignity never bestowed upon them before. To give you an idea of the superior dexterity with which I manage my slight of hand, know, that four times I have been in that shop where you saw me borrow the diamond ring, which you now remark upon my little finger; and four times have I brought back some token of my visitations; nay, the shopman is so far from suspecting me, that he has twice favoured me with the piteous tale of the very losses I myself brought upon him; and I make no doubt that I shall hear in a few days, the whole history of the departed diamond, now in my keeping, coupled with your honour’s appearance and custom. Allow that it would be a pity to suffer pride to stand in the way of the talents with which Providence has blest me; to scorn the little delicacies of art, which I execute so well, would, in my opinion, be as absurd as for an epic poet to disdain the composition of a perfect epigram, or a consummate musician, the melody of a faultless song.”
“Bravo! Mr. Job,” said I; “a truly great man, you see, can confer honour upon trifles.” More I might have said, but was stopt short by the entrance of the landlady, who was a fine, fair, well dressed, comely woman, of about thirty-nine years and eleven months; or, to speak less precisely, between thirty and forty. She came to announce that dinner was served below. We descended, and found a sumptuous repast of roast beef and fish; this primary course was succeeded by that great dainty with common people—a duck and green peas.
“Upon my word, Mr. Jonson,” said I, “you fare like a prince; your weekly expenditure must be pretty considerable for a single gentleman.”
“I don’t know,” answered Jonson, with an air of lordly indifference—“I have never paid my good hostess any coin but compliments, and, in all probability, never shall.”
Was there ever a better illustration of Moore’s admonition—
‘O, ladies, beware of a gay young knight,
After dinner, we remounted to the apartments Job emphatically called his own; and he then proceeded to initiate me in those phrases of the noble language of “Flash,” which might best serve my necessities on the approaching occasion. The slang part of my Cambridge education had made me acquainted with some little elementary knowledge, which rendered Jonson’s precepts less strange and abstruse. In this lecture, “sweet and holy,” the hours passed away till it became time for me to dress. Mr. Jonson then took me into the penetralia of his bed-room. I stumbled against an enormous trunk. On hearing the involuntary anathema this accident conjured up to my lips, Jonson said—“Ah, Sir!—do oblige me by trying to move that box.”
I did so, but could not stir it an inch.
“Your honour never saw a jewel box so heavy before, I think,” said Jonson, with a smile.