NOVEMBER.—A GENERAL POST DELIVERY.
I was a free man when I went out of the Court; but I was a beggar—I, Captain Stubbs, of the bold North Bungays, did not know where I could get a bed, or a dinner.
As I was marching sadly down Portugal Street, I felt a hand on my shoulder and a rough voice which I knew well.
“Vell, Mr. Stobbs, have I not kept my promise? I told you dem boots would be your ruin.”
I was much too miserable to reply; and only cast my eyes towards the roofs of the houses, which I could not see for the tears.
“Vat! you begin to gry and blobber like a shild? you vood marry, vood you? and noting vood do for you but a vife vid monny—ha, ha—but you vere de pigeon, and she was de grow. She has plocked you, too, pretty vell—eh? ha! ha!”
“Oh, Mr. Stiffelkind,” said I, “don't laugh at my misery: she has not left me a single shilling under heaven. And I shall starve: I do believe I shall starve.” And I began to cry fit to break my heart.
“Starf! stoff and nonsense! You vill never die of starfing—you vill die of HANGING, I tink—ho! ho!—and it is moch easier vay too.” I didn't say a word, but cried on; till everybody in the street turned round and stared.
“Come, come,” said Stiffelkind, “do not gry, Gaptain Stobbs—it is not goot for a Gaptain to gry—ha! ha! Dere—come vid me, and you shall have a dinner, and a bregfast too,—vich shall gost you nothing, until you can bay vid your earnings.”
And so this curious old man, who had persecuted me all through my prosperity, grew compassionate towards me in my ill-luck; and took me home with him as he promised. “I saw your name among de Insolvents, and I vowed, you know, to make you repent dem boots. Dere, now, it is done and forgotten, look you. Here, Betty, Bettchen, make de spare bed, and put a clean knife and fork; Lort Cornvallis is come to dine vid me.”