LIEUTENANT BOWLING PLEADING THE CAUSE OF YOUNG ROY TO HIS GRANDFATHER.
The Adventures of Roderick Random. Roderick Random is conducted by his uncle Tom Bowling on a visit to his grandfather, the judge.—'After a few minutes' pause we were admitted, and conducted to my grandfather's chamber through a lane of my relations, who honoured me with very significant looks as I passed along. When we came into the judge's presence, my uncle, after two or three sea-bows, expressed himself in this manner. "Your servant—your servant. What cheer father? what cheer? I suppose you don't know me—mayhap you don't. My name is Tom Bowling; and this here boy—you look as if you did not know him neither—'tis like you mayn't. He's new rigged, i' faith; his cloth don't shake in the wind so much as it wont to do. 'Tis my nephew, d'ye see, Roderick Random—your own flesh and blood, old gentleman. Don't lay astarn, you dog" (pulling me forward). My grandfather, who was laid up with the gout, received his relation after his long absence with a coldness of civility which was peculiar to him; told him he was glad to see him, and desired him to sit down. "Thank ye, thank ye, sir, I had as lief stand," said my uncle. "For my own part I desire nothing of you; but if you have any conscience at all, do something for this poor boy, who has been used at a very unchristian rate. Unchristian, do you call it? I am sure the Moors in Barbary have more humanity than to leave their little ones to want. I would fain know why my sister's son is more neglected than that there fair-weather Jack" (pointing to the young squire, who, with the rest of my cousins, had followed us into the room). "Is not he as near akin to you as the other? Is not he much handsomer, and better built than that great chucklehead? Come, come—consider, old gentleman, you are going in a short time to give an account of your evil actions. Remember the wrongs you did his father, and make all the satisfaction in your power before it is too late. The least thing you can do is to settle his father's portion on him." The young ladies who thought themselves too much concerned to contain themselves any longer, set up their throats altogether against my protector, "Scurvy companion—saucy tarpaulin—rude, impertinent fellow—did he think he was going to prescribe to grandpapa? His sister's brat had been too well taken care of; grandpapa was too just not to make a difference between an unnatural, rebellious son and his dutiful loving children, who took his advice in all things"—and such expressions were vented against him with great violence, until the judge at length commanded silence.
THE PASSENGERS FROM THE WAGGON ARRIVING AT THE INN.
The Adventures of Roderick Random. Chap. XI.—Roderick Random, and his companion Strap, having alighted from the waggon, are standing a little back in the best room of the Inn, where the landlord, candle in hand, is receiving the rest of the guests, who are entering from the conveyance; Joey, the honest driver of the waggon, is standing behind the obsequious Boniface. Roderick Random thus pursues his narrative:—
'Here I had an opportunity of viewing the passengers in order as they entered. The first who appeared was a brisk airy girl about twenty years old, with a silver laced hat on her head instead of a cap, a blue stuff riding-suit trimmed with silver, very much tarnished, and a whip in her hand. After her came limping an old man, with a worsted nightcap buttoned under his chin, and a broad brimmed hat slouched over it, and an old rusty blue cloak tied about his neck, under which appeared a brown surtout that covered a threadbare coat and waistcoat, and, as we afterwards discerned, a dirty flannel jacket. His eyes were hollow and bleared, his face was shrivelled into a thousand wrinkles, his gums were destitute of teeth, his nose sharp and drooping, his chin peaked and prominent, so that when he mumped or spoke, they approached one another like a pair of nutcrackers; he supported himself on an ivory headed cane, and his whole figure was a just emblem of winter, famine, and avarice. But how was I surprised when I beheld the formidable captain in the shape of a little thin creature, about the age of forty, with a long withered visage very much resembling that of a baboon, through the upper part of which two little grey eyes peeped: he wore his own hair in a queue that reached to his rump, which immoderate length I suppose was the occasion of a baldness that appeared on the crown of his head, when he deigned to take off his hat, which was very much of the size and cock of Pistol's. Having laid aside his great coat, I could not help admiring the extraordinary make of this man of war: he was about five feet and three inches high, sixteen inches of which went to his face and long scraggy neck; his thighs were about six inches in length, his legs resembling spindles or drumsticks, two feet and a half, and his body, which put me in mind of extension without substance, engrossed the remainder, so that on the whole he appeared like a spider or grasshopper erect, and was almost a vox et præterea nihil. His dress consisted of a frock of what is called bear-skin, the skirts of which were about half a foot long, an hussar waistcoat, scarlet breeches reaching halfway down his thighs, worsted stockings rolled up almost to his groin, and shoes with wooden heels at least two inches high; he carried a sword very near as long as himself in one hand, and with the other conducted his lady, who seemed to be a woman of his own age, and still retained some remains of a handsome person; but so ridiculously affected that, had I not been a novice in the world, I might have easily perceived in her the deplorable vanity and second-hand airs of a lady's woman.'
October 1, 1792. [On Her Last Legs]. Published by S. W. Fores, 3 Piccadilly.