As he was very inquisitive about our affairs, we made no scruple of acquainting him with our situation, which when he had learned, he enriched us with advices how to behave in the world, telling us that he was no stranger to the deceits of mankind. In the meantime he ordered his daughter to lay a fowl to the fire for supper, for he was resolved this night to regale his friends—permittens divis caetera. While our entertainment was preparing, our host recounted the adventures of his own life, which, as they contained nothing remarkable, I forbear to rehearse. When we had fared sumptuously, and drunk several bottles of his I expressed a desire of going to rest, which was with some difficulty complied with, after he had informed us that we should overtake the waggon by noon next day; and that there was room enough in it for half-a-dozen, for there were only four passengers as yet in that convenience.
Before my comrade and I fell asleep, we had some conversation about the good humour of our landlord, which gave Strap such an idea of his benevolence, that he positively believed we should pay nothing for our lodging and entertainment. “Don’t you observe,” said he, “that he has conceived a particular affection for us—nay, even treated us at supper with extraordinary fare, which, to be sure, we should not of ourselves have called for?”
I was partly of Strap’s opinion; but the experience I had of the world made me suspend my belief till the morning, when, getting up betimes, we breakfasted with our host and his daughter on hasty-pudding and ale, and desired to know what we had to pay. “Biddy will let you know, gentlemen,” said he; “for I never mind these matters. Money matters are beneath the concern of one who lives upon the Horatian plan—Crescentum sequitur cura pecuniam.” Meanwhile, Biddy, having consulted a slate that hung in the corner, told us our reckoning came to 8s. 7d. “Eight shillings and seven pence!” cried Strap, “’tis impossible! you must be mistaken, young woman.” “Reckon again, child,” says her father, very deliberately; “perhaps you have miscounted.” “No, indeed,” replied she, “I know my business better.” I could contain my indignation no longer, but said it was an unconscionable bill, and demanded to know the particulars; upon which the old man got up, muttering, “Ay, ay, let us see the particulars—that’s but reasonable.” And, taking pen, ink, and paper, wrote the following items:
| To bread and beer | 0 6 |
| To a fowl and sausages | 2 6 |
| To four bottles of quadrim | 2 0 |
| To fire and tobacco | 0 7 |
| To lodging | 2 0 |
| To breakfast | 1 0 |
| —— | |
| 8 7 |
As he had not the appearance of a common publican, and had raised a sort of veneration in me by his demeanour the preceding night, it was not in my power to upbraid him as he deserved; therefore, I contented myself with saying I was sure he did not learn to be an extortioner from Horace. He answered, I was but a young man and did not know the world, or I would not tax him with extortion, whose only aim was to live contentus parvo, and keep off importuna pauperies. My fellow traveller could not so easily put up with this imposition; but swore he should either take one-third of the money or go without. While we were engaged in this dispute, I perceived the daughter go out, and, conjecturing the occasion, immediately paid the exorbitant demand, which was no sooner done than Biddy returned with two stout fellows, who came in on pretence of taking their morning draught, but in reality to frighten us into compliance. Just as we departed, Strap, who was half-distracted on account of this piece of expense, went up to the schoolmaster, and, grinning in his face, pronounced with great emphasis—“Semper avarus eget.” To which the pedant replied, with a malicious smile—“Animum rege, qui, nisi paret, imperat.”
CHAPTER XI
We descry the Waggon—get into it—arrive at an inn—our Fellow Travellers described—a Mistake is committed by Strap, which produces strange things
We travelled half-a-mile without exchanging one word; my thoughts being engrossed by the knavery of the world, to which I must be daily exposed, and the contemplation of my finances, which began sensibly to diminish. At length, Strap, who could hold no longer, addressed me thus: “Well, fools and their money are soon parted. If my advice had been taken, that old skin-flint should have been d—n’d before he had got more than the third of his demand. ’Tis a sure sign you came easily by your money, when you squander it away in this manner. Ah! God help you, how many bristly beards must I have mowed before I earned four shillings and threepence-halfpenny, which is all thrown to the dogs! How many days have I sat weaving hair till my toes were numbed by the cold, my fingers cramped, and my nose as blue as the sign of the periwig that hung over the door! What the devil was you afraid of? I would have engaged to box with any one of those fellows who came in for a guinea—I’m sure—I have beat stouter men than either of them.” And, indeed, my companion would have fought anybody when his life was in no danger; but he had a mortal aversion to fire-arms and all instruments of death. In order to appease him, I assured him no part of this extraordinary expense should fall upon his shoulders; at which declaration he was affronted, and told me he would have me to know that, although he was a poor barber’s boy, yet he had a soul to spend big money with the best squire of the land.
Having walked all day at a great pace, without halting for a refreshment, we descried, toward the evening, to our inexpressible joy, the waggon about a quarter of a mile before us; and, by that time we reached it, were both of us so weary that I verily believe it would have been impracticable for us to have walked one mile farther. We, therefore, bargained with the driver, whose name was Joey, to give us a cast to the next stage for a shilling; at which place we should meet the master of the waggon, with whom we might agree for the rest of the journey.
Accordingly the convenience stopped, and Joey having placed the ladder, Strap (being loaded with our baggage) mounted first; but, just as he was getting in, a tremendous voice assailed his ears in these words: “God’s fury! there shall no passengers come here.” The poor shaver was so disconcerted at this exclamation, which both he and I imagined proceeded from the mouth of a giant, that he descended with great velocity and a countenance as white as paper. Joey, perceiving our astonishment, called, with an arch sneer, “Waunds, coptain, whay woant yau sooffer the poor waggoneer to meake a penny? Coom, coom, young man, get oop, get oop, never moind the coptain; I’se not afeard of the coptain.”