“My name, sir,” replied the old man, “is Richard Smith; my abode is at Brigland; and I am past labour.”
“Eh! what! Smith! Richard Smith!—Are you the person that my graceless cub of a cousin had the insolence to knock down and send to jail as a poacher? I hope he has paid you the amount of damages awarded to you.”
“It was only yesterday, sir, that the verdict was given, and I have no desire to hurry the gentleman for payment: I wish him to make it convenient to himself.”
“What are you talking about, my good man? Do you think it can make any difference to my cousin when he pays such a sum as one hundred pounds. You fancy you are talking about a shopkeeper.”
“I beg pardon, sir; I do not mean to speak disparagingly of the Hon. Philip Martindale, but lawyer Flint told me this morning, that when he applied to lawyer Price about the settlement of the damages and costs, he was informed that they would be paid in a few days, but it was not quite convenient at present.”
“Nonsense, the lawyers want to cheat you; Philip has money enough to pay you, and I will take care that you shall be paid. I will see Price to-morrow, and he shall settle the business at once. I am afraid the young man is not quite so steady as he ought to be. I don’t at all approve of his behaviour to you and your niece, and I shall tell him my mind pretty plainly.”
The old man shook his head and sighed. Mr. Martindale observed his emotion, and interrogated him more closely concerning the behaviour of Philip, assuring him that, instead of being offended, he should be thankful for any information concerning the conduct of his young relative, in order that he might use his influence to correct it.
“I am not thinking, sir,” replied Richard Smith, with great solemnity of tone, “only of your honourable relative, but of the numbers in his rank of life who make the miseries of the poor their amusement and sport. I am thinking, sir, that it is a sad mockery of the seriousness of legislation, that profligate and ignorant lads should sit as lawgivers.” Mr. Martindale frowned, for he had bought a borough for his hopeful relative; but as he stood in the attitude of listening, the old man went on: “I think it a sad disgrace to the country, that ignominious and painful punishments are denounced against those offences only which the legislators have no temptation to commit.”
“Well done, old gentleman,” replied Mr. Martindale, “you talk like a philosopher. I am quite of your way of thinking. So you don’t think that it is enough to make young gentlemen pay for their frolics; you would have them sent to work at the tread-mill, or give them a public whipping now and then by way of example.”