My master was diffrent: and being a more fashnabble man than Mr. B., in course he owed a deal more money. There was fust:—
Account contray, at Crockford's . . . . . . . £3711 0 0
Bills of xchange and I.O.U.'s (but he didn't
pay these in most cases) . . . . . . . . . . 4963 0 0
21 tailor's bills, in all . . . . . . . . . . 1306 11 9
3 hossdealer's do. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 402 0 0
2 coachbuilder . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 506 0 0
Bills contracted at Cambritch . . . . . . . . 2193 6 8
Sundries . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 987 10 0
------------
£14,069 8 5
I give this as a curiosity—pipple doant know how in many cases fashnabhle life is carried on; and to know even what a real gnlmn owes is somethink instructif and agreeable.
But to my tail. The very day after my master had made the inquiries concerning Mr. Dawkins, witch I have mentioned already, he met Mr. Blewitt on the stairs; and byoutiffle it was to see how this gnlman, who had before been almost cut by my master, was now received by him. One of the sweatest smiles I ever saw was now vizzable on Mr. Deuceace's countenance. He held out his hand, covered with a white kid glove, and said, in the most frenly tone of vice posbill, "What? Mr. Blewitt! It is an age since we met. What a shame that such near naybors should see each other so seldom!"
Mr. Blewitt, who was standing at his door, in a pe-green dressing-gown, smoakin a segar, and singing a hunting coarus, looked surprised, flattered, and then suspicius.
"Why, yes," says he, "it is, Mr. Deuceace, a long time."
"Not, I think, since we dined at Sir George Hockey's. By the by, what an evening that was—hay, Mr. Blewitt? What wine! what capital songs! I recollect your 'May-day in the morning'—cuss me, the best comick song I ever heard. I was speaking to the Duke of Doncaster about it only yesterday. You know the duke, I think?"
Mr. Blewitt said, quite surly, "No, I don't."
"Not know him!" cries master; "why, hang it, Blewitt! he knows you; as every sporting man in England does, I should think. Why, man, your good things are in everybody's mouth at Newmarket."
And so master went on chaffin Mr. Blewitt. That genlmn at fust answered him quite short and angry; but, after a little more flumery, he grew as pleased as posbill, took in all Deuceace's flatry, and bleeved all his lies. At last the door shut, and they both went into Mr. Blewitt's chambers togither.