“Here, Master Con,” said he, as he poured the contents into my two hands, “here is wherewithal to pay your footing at Mrs. Davis's. As a traveller from the old country, you 'll be expected to entertain the servants' hall,—do it liberally; there's nothing like a bold push at the first go off.”
“I know it, sir; my father used to say that the gentleman always won his election who made most freeholders drunk the first day of the poll.”
“Your father was a man of keen observation, Con.”
“And is, sir, still, with your leave, if kangaroo meat has n't disagreed with him, and left me to sustain the honors of the house.”
“Oh, that's it, Con, is it?” said Captain Pike, with a sly glance.
“Yes, sir, that's it,” said I, replying more to his look than his words.
“Here's the letter for Mrs. Davis: you'll present it early to-morrow; be discreet, keep your own counsel, and I 've no doubt you 'll do well.”
“I'd be an ungrateful vagabond if I made your honor out a false prophet,” said I; and, bowing respectfully to the company, I withdrew.
“What a wonderful principle of equilibrium exists between one's heart and one's pocket!” thought I as I went downstairs. “I never felt the former so light as now that the latter is heavy.”
I wandered out into the town, somewhat puzzled how to dispose of myself for the evening. Had I been performing the part of a “walking gentleman,” I fancied I could have easily hit upon some appropriate and becoming pastime. A theatre,—there was one in the “Lower Town,”—and a tavern afterwards, would have filled the interval before it was time to go to bed. “Time to go to bed! “—strange phrase, born of a thousand and one conventionalities. For some, that time comes when the sun has set, and with its last beams of rosy light reminds labor of the coming morrow. To some, it is the hour when wearied faculties can do no more, when tired intellect falters “by the way,” and cannot keep the “line of march.” To others, it comes with dawning light, and when roses and rouge look ghastly; and to others, again, whose “deeds are evil,” it is the glare of noonday.