He was scarce gone, when Mr Thornhill’s butler came to congratulate us upon our good fortune, saying, that he overheard his young master mention our names with great commendation.
Good fortune seemed resolved not to come alone. Another footman from the same family followed, with a card for my daughters, importing, that the two ladies had received such pleasing accounts from Mr Thornhill of us all, that, after a few previous enquiries, they hoped to be perfectly satisfied. ‘Ay,’ cried my wife, I now see it is no easy matter to get into the families of the great; but when one once gets in, then, as Moses says, one may go sleep.’ To this piece of humour, for she intended it for wit, my daughters assented with a loud laugh of pleasure. In short, such was her satisfaction at this message, that she actually put her hand in her pocket, and gave the messenger seven-pence halfpenny.
This was to be our visiting-day. The next that came was Mr Burchell, who had been at the fair. He brought my little ones a pennyworth of gingerbread each, which my wife undertook to keep for them, and give them by letters at a time. He brought my daughters also a couple of boxes, in which they might keep wafers, snuff, patches, or even money, when they got it. My wife was usually fond of a weasel-skin purse, as being the most lucky; but this by the bye. We had still a regard for Mr Burchell, though his late rude behaviour was in some measure displeasing; nor could we now avoid communicating our happiness to him, and asking his advice: although we seldom followed advice, we were all ready enough to ask it. When he read the note from the two ladies, he shook his head, and observed, that an affair of this sort demanded the utmost circumspection.—This air of diffidence highly displeased my wife. ‘I never doubted, Sir,’ cried she, ‘your readiness to be against my daughters and me. You have more circumspection than is wanted. However, I fancy when we come to ask advice, we will apply to persons who seem to have made use of it themselves.’—‘Whatever my own conduct may have been, madam,’ replied he, ‘is not the present question; tho’ as I have made no use of advice myself, I should in conscience give it to those that will.’—As I was apprehensive this answer might draw on a repartee, making up by abuse what it wanted in wit, I changed the subject, by seeming to wonder what could keep our son so long at the fair, as it was now almost nightfall.—‘Never mind our son,’ cried my wife, ‘depend upon it he knows what he is about. I’ll warrant we’ll never see him sell his hen of a rainy day. I have seen him buy such bargains as would amaze one. I’ll tell you a good story about that, that will make you split your sides with laughing—But as I live, yonder comes Moses, without an horse, and the box at his back.’
As she spoke, Moses came slowly on foot, and sweating under the deal box, which he had strapt round his shoulders like a pedlar.—‘Welcome, welcome, Moses; well, my boy, what have you brought us from the fair?’—‘I have brought you myself,’ cried Moses, with a sly look, and resting the box on the dresser.—‘Ay, Moses,’ cried my wife, ‘that we know, but where is the horse?’ ‘I have sold him,’ cried Moses, ‘for three pounds five shillings and two-pence.’—‘Well done, my good boy,’ returned she, ‘I knew you would touch them off. Between ourselves, three pounds five shillings and two-pence is no bad day’s work. Come, let us have it then.’—‘I have brought back no money,’ cried Moses again. ‘I have laid it all out in a bargain, and here it is,’ pulling out a bundle from his breast: ‘here they are; a groce of green spectacles, with silver rims and shagreen cases.’—‘A groce of green spectacles!’ repeated my wife in a faint voice. ‘And you have parted with the Colt, and brought us back nothing but a groce of green paltry spectacles!’—‘Dear mother,’ cried the boy, ‘why won’t you listen to reason? I had them a dead bargain, or I should not have bought them. The silver rims alone will sell for double money.’—‘A fig for the silver rims,’ cried my wife, in a passion: ‘I dare swear they won’t sell for above half the money at the rate of broken silver, five shillings an ounce.’—‘You need be under no uneasiness,’ cried I, ‘about selling the rims; for they are not worth six-pence, for I perceive they are only copper varnished over.’—‘What,’ cried my wife, ‘not silver, the rims not silver!’ ‘No,’ cried I, ‘no more silver than your saucepan,’—‘And so,’ returned she, ‘we have parted with the Colt, and have only got a groce of green spectacles, with copper rims and shagreen cases! A murrain take such trumpery. The blockhead has been imposed upon, and should have known his company better.’—‘There, my dear,’ cried I, ‘you are wrong, he should not have known them at all.’—‘Marry, hang the ideot,’ returned she, ‘to bring me such stuff, if I had them, I would throw them in the fire.’ ‘There again you are wrong, my dear,’ cried I; ‘for though they be copper, we will keep them by us, as copper spectacles, you know, are better than nothing.’
By this time the unfortunate Moses was undeceived. He now saw that he had indeed been imposed upon by a prowling sharper, who, observing his figure, had marked him for an easy prey. I therefore asked the circumstances of his deception. He sold the horse, it seems, and walked the fair in search of another. A reverend looking man brought him to a tent, under pretence of having one to sell. ‘Here,’ continued Moses, ‘we met another man, very well drest, who desired to borrow twenty pounds upon these, saying, that he wanted money, and would dispose of them for a third of the value. The first gentleman, who pretended to be my friend, whispered me to buy them, and cautioned me not to let so good an offer pass. I sent for Mr Flamborough, and they talked him up as finely as they did me, and so at last we were persuaded to buy the two groce between us.’
CHAPTER XIII.
Mr Burchell is found to be an enemy; for he has the confidence to give disagreeable advice.
Our family had now made several attempts to be fine; but some unforeseen disaster demolished each as soon as projected. I endeavoured to take the advantage of every disappointment, to improve their good sense in proportion as they were frustrated in ambition. ‘You see, my children,’ cried I, ‘how little is to be got by attempts to impose upon the world, in coping with our betters. Such as are poor and will associate with none but the rich, are hated by those they avoid, and despised by these they follow. Unequal combinations are always disadvantageous to the weaker side: the rich having the pleasure, and the poor the inconveniencies that result from them. But come, Dick, my boy, and repeat the fable that you were reading to-day, for the good of the company.’.
‘Once upon a time,’ cried the child, ‘a Giant and a Dwarf were friends, and kept together. They made a bargain that they would never forsake each other, but go seek adventures. The first battle they fought was with two Saracens, and the Dwarf, who was very courageous, dealt one of the champions a most angry blow. It did the Saracen but very little injury, who lifting up his sword, fairly struck off the poor Dwarf’s arm. He was now in a woeful plight; but the Giant coming to his assistance, in a short time left the two Saracens dead on the plain, and the Dwarf cut off the dead man’s head out of spite. They then travelled on to another adventure. This was against three bloody-minded Satyrs, who were carrying away a damsel in distress. The Dwarf was not quite so fierce now as before; but for all that, struck the first blow, which was returned by another, that knocked out his eye: but the Giant was soon up with them, and had they not fled, would certainly have killed them every one. They were all very joyful for this victory, and the damsel who was relieved fell in love with the Giant, and married him. They now travelled far, and farther than I can tell, till they met with a company of robbers. The Giant, for the first time, was foremost now; but the Dwarf was not far behind. The battle was stout and long. Wherever the Giant came all fell before him; but the Dwarf had like to have been killed more than once. At last the victory declared for the two adventurers; but the Dwarf lost his leg. The Dwarf was now without an arm, a leg, and an eye, while the Giant was without a single wound. Upon which he cried out to his little companion, My little heroe, this is glorious sport; let us get one victory more, and then we shall have honour for ever. No, cries the Dwarf who was by this time grown wiser, no, I declare off; I’ll fight no more; for I find in every battle that you get all the honour and rewards, but all the blows fall upon me.’
I was going to moralize this fable, when our attention was called off to a warm dispute between my wife and Mr Burchell, upon my daughters intended expedition to town. My wife very strenuously insisted upon the advantages that would result from it. Mr Burchell, on the contrary, dissuaded her with great ardor, and I stood neuter. His present dissuasions seemed but the second part of those which were received with so ill a grace in the morning. The dispute grew high while poor Deborah, instead of reasoning stronger, talked louder, and at last was obliged to take shelter from a defeat in clamour. The conclusion of her harangue, however, was highly displeasing to us all: she knew, she said, of some who had their own secret reasons for what they advised; but, for her part, she wished such to stay away from her house for the future.—‘Madam,’ cried Burchell, with looks of great composure, which tended to enflame her the more, ‘as for secret reasons, you are right: I have secret reasons, which I forbear to mention, because you are not able to answer those of which I make no secret: but I find my visits here are become troublesome; I’ll take my leave therefore now, and perhaps come once more to take a final farewell when I am quitting the country.’ Thus saying, he took up his hat, nor could the attempts of Sophia, whose looks seemed to upbraid his precipitancy, prevent his going.