One morning after breakfast, Squire Bull, who was then mightily taken up with a glass warehouse, which some people had persuaded him to erect in his park, for the purpose of showing off his neighbours' wares in opposition to his own, called as usual for his newspaper.
"I half begin to think," quoth he, settling himself in his easy chair, and airing the broadsheet at the fire, "that I have been bubbled in this matter. What good this puffing and vaunting of other folk's commodities is to do to my villagers, I do not exactly see; and, as for the tenantry, they appear to be against it to a man. Besides, I have a strong suspicion that in the long run I shall have to pay the piper. However, let us see if anything is stirring abroad.—Eh! what's this? A letter from that miscreant Peter! Am I in my right senses?"
And, sure enough, in the most conspicuous part of the newspaper there appeared the following document:—
"We, Peter, Lord Paramount of the whole world, and Supreme Suzerain of the Squirearchy thereof, to all to whom these presents may come, Greeting. Know ye, that We, out of Our infinite condescension and mercy, and moved thereto by the love which We bear to Our subjects of Bullockshatch, have determined from henceforth, and in all time coming, to grant unto them such spiritual rights and privileges as We have accorded to others of Our subjects elsewhere. Also, for the end that Our loving subjects of Bullockshatch may the better accommodate themselves to Our Will in this matter, and render to us, through Our delegates, the homage which is justly Our due, We have resolved to divide and erect, as We do hereby divide and erect, the whole of Our territory of Bullockshatch into thirteen separate parishes, appointing thereunto for each a Superintendent, who shall henceforth, and in all time coming, derive his style and title from the parish to which he is appointed by Us; and We command, require, and enjoin Our said loving subjects to render to Our said Superintendents all obedience and fealty, as they shall answer to Us thereupon. And in order that all things may be properly administered, We have appointed Our dearly beloved Nicholas, formerly Superintendent of Hippopotamus, to be our Arch-Superintendent on Our estate of Bullockshatch, with the title and designation of Lord Arch-Superintendent of Smithfield, granting to him all the rights of coal, fuel, faggot, turf, twig, and combustibles which were formerly enjoyed by any of his predecessors in office. And as a token of their gratitude for this Our unparalleled condescension and mercy, We ordain and require that Our loving subjects of Bullockshatch shall each and all of them attend and assist at three solemn masses, to be performed for the soul of the late Guido Fawkes, Esquire, of happy memory. And We declare this to be a public and irrevocable decree.
(Signed) Peter."
Language is inadequate to express the paroxysm of wrath into which Squire Bull was thrown by the perusal of this insolent document! He foamed at the mouth, kicked over the breakfast table, dashed the newspaper on the carpet, and tore down the bell-rope.
"He the Lord Paramount of Bullockshatch, the lying old villain that he is! He pretend to jurisdiction within my estate! But I'll trounce him! Ho, there! Who's without? Fetch me here the Juggler instantly! Body of me, that it should ever have come to this! These are the thanks I get from the ungrateful old he-goat for having taken some of his people into my service, and persuaded my tenantry, sorely against their will, to make an annual allowance for that school of his, which is no better than a nest of Jesuits! If I don't make the viper feel—So, so! Master Juggler, you are there, are you? Things have come to a pretty pass, when I can't take up a newspaper, without finding myself openly insulted, and my rights of property denied!"
Now, be it known to you that the Juggler was anything but comfortable in his mind. He was fully conscious that he had been imposed on by Peter; and, further, that he and his associates had done everything in their power to back up Peter's pretensions. This they did less out of hatred to Martin (though they bore him no great love) than from a desire to ingratiate themselves with some of the under servants who came from the farm over the pond, and were known adherents of Peter. But from one thing to another, they had gone so far, as we have already seen, relaxing and abolishing all the old regulations of the estate against the interference of Peter, that it really seemed as though he had only to step in and take possession. Further, the Juggler was somewhat at a loss to know how he could satisfactorily explain the nature of the mission upon which his relative, Mat-o'-the-Mint, had been despatched; besides some other little circumstances which looked confoundedly suspicious. For example, about a year before, one Dicky Squeal, a notorious Peterite, had been detected tampering with the dies from which Squire Bull's tokens were struck, and cutting out certain letters which were understood to signify that Mr Bull held possession of his estate altogether independent of Peter. Instead of punishing him for this, the Juggler had just announced his intention of sending Dicky Squeal on a second mission to Signor Macaroni's estate, where he might be within earshot of Peter. Altogether, it is no wonder if the Juggler felt the reverse of happy when summoned to appear before his master. However, he was resolved to brazen it out as he best could.
"Insulted, did you say, sir; and your rights of property denied? The thing is clean impossible! Nobody dares insult my noble master—the most excellent, kind, hospitable, beneficent landlord that ever kept open house! O sir, if you but knew the depth of my affection—the almost overwhelming load, as I may say, of love and regard—"