CHAPTER VIII.
Our hero now resumed his legal studies, and his literary pursuits. He continued to admire the administration of Mr. Pitt, in general principle, and in most of its particular acts. The commercial treaty with France he regarded as a grand and striking instance of liberal and enlightened policy, and wrote a very ingenious and able pamphlet in its favour, but hitherto did not put his name to his performances. He continued to attend Parliament on important debates, and occasionally to write essays, but was not yet a professed author.
Meanwhile he made very anxious inquiries concerning Jenny Collings, but that worthy girl, with great magnanimity and self-denial, resolutely secluded herself from his company during the whole winter. It was now the month of May, and on a Sunday morning, which our hero generally devoted to walking in the fields, and William had strolled as far as the north gate of Kensington gardens, when he saw at a little distance before him, on the other side of the wall, a well-dressed and well-made girl, whom, approaching more nearly, he found, to his surprise and delight, to be his long-lost Jenny. At so unexpected a sight poor Collings screamed and almost fainted, but recovering, she intreated him, for Heaven’s sake, to leave her. But whilst her tongue said so, it was contradicted by her eyes, that melted with tenderness and love. Soft and gentle dalliance proceeded to ardent and dangerous caresses, which Jenny first attempted to resist but at length returned. Poor Collings again experienced that no trial can be more perilous to female penitence than meeting with the beloved cause of former indiscretion.
In the course of their conversation she informed him, that she was going to Shepherd’s Bush, to spend the day with a sister of her employer. But learning that she had not absolutely promised, he persuaded her to feign an excuse, and to spend the day with him. The ice being once broken, this change was effected with little difficulty, and from this time the frail fair one consented to interviews as often as they could find opportunities.
Mrs. Hamilton was now arrived in town, and a house was taken in Hatton-garden, convenient for her son’s pursuits in Lincolns Inn. Our hero was now beginning to be known among the booksellers, and was not without applications from gentlemen and others of that profession.
It was again a Sunday morning; and William, having pretended an engagement to dine at Richmond, was breakfasting with his mother and sister, previous to his departure to meet his Jenny; when a loud knock thundered at the door, and the maid coming up stairs said, that a person below wanted her master. “A person, Sally, what kind of a person?” “I don’t think much, he be a gentleman, though he be very smart.”—“Well, shew him up.” Accordingly the person, as Sally phrased it, was introduced. He was a short, squat, sturdy man, with a face round like an apple, chubby, and adorned with cheeks of the kind of that fruit that is called red-streak, goggling eyes, and an expression of mingled pertness, self-importance, and inanity. To decorate this graceful presence, there was a cocked hat, a green coat lined with yellow satin, a red silk waistcoat, and black silk breeches, all bran new, with white silk stockings, now inclining to yellow, very smart shoes, graced with plated buckles, which, having seen service, shewed the brass in various parts. Having walked in with his hat on, he took it off and made to the ladies a bow, which he intended at once to exhibit dignity and condescension; then turning to the gentleman said, “I presume you are Mr. Hamilton.”—“At your service; pray, sir, be seated.”—Having taken a chair, the visitor began: “My name, sir, is Jeffery Lawhunt, I keep a bookseller’s shop; here’s my card; perhaps you have heard of me, and of my character.”—“Yes, I have,” replied the other. “I was not brought up to the bookselling business; I was in the taylor line, and still do a little in that way; these breeches are my own making, and see, madam, they fit very well.”—The young lady ran out at this appeal.—“I got the piece pretty cheap, in payment of a debt that I thought bad.—But I am wandering from the point on which I called on you.—You must know, sir, since I have taken to the bookselling trade, I am a great pattern of learning, and hearing you are a very good hand, I am willing to give you employment, sir.”—“You are very kind,” said Hamilton.—“And as to terms, I tell you how I do with my journeymen, and I find some of my authors agreeable to it; also I gives them their wages in traffic.”—“In traffic!” said Hamilton.—“Yes, and I find it a very good way: for instance, a coat, or a waistcoat, or a pair of breeches, or sometimes in provisions. I buy a lot of hams, and give pieces of them as payment, both at the board and printing-house. Do you ever do any thing in the theatrical line?”—“Never.”—“Could you not write me a pretty smart novel? I give a very good price. Mrs. Devon, a famous writter, she wrote the Perseverance of Perplexity, and the Lavish Landlord. She has, first and last, had twelve guineas of my money. I have a letter in my pocket here, that will shew you the kind of applications I receive.” Our hero accordingly perused the following epistle:—
“Mr. Jeffery Lawhunt;
Sir;—Having been in business in the child-bed linen way, and not finding things answer, I have been advised by my friends to set up in the litterary line, which they tell me requires little capital, and so no wonder so many poor people takes after it;”—(‘A very just remark,’ observed Lawhunt;)—“so I am a writing a novel, with plenty of ghosteses in it; which is now quite the kick.” (‘So it is,’ observed Jeffery, ‘you see she knows what’s what.’) “Now, sir, as I understand you are a great inkurrager of harudishon, I have made bold for to offer to you what, to use a compollison, may be called the first child of my virgin muse.” (‘A very marvellous production,’ said our hero, ‘this first child of the virgin muse, I dare say, is.’) (‘I thought,’ observed Jeffery, ‘you would like the figure.’) “I hope it, will give you satisfaction, and I am, sir, your most humble servant, to command,
Sarah Shift.
P.S. If you could let me have a little in advance, shud be much obligated to you.”