_Of the wonderful Transmigration of Master_ RICHARD RUSTICK _into the
Body of a Bear._
In the next apartment into which Mr. _Wiseman_ conducted us, we saw the
cub of a bear, who lay upon the floor to which he was chained, without
having the good manners to rise when we entered; but when the Bramin
applied his wand to young Bruin's buttocks, he heaved up his shaggy
hide with a kind of lazy resentment, and saluted us with a reluctant
grin and a savage growl, which plainly intimated that he did not think
himself much beholden to us for our company. "This young brute, said
our conductor, is animated by the soul of the late matter _Rustick_, of
clownish memory. His father was a gentleman of rank and fortune, and
greatly beloved and respected by all his acquaintance; and if his son
Richard had possessed the same virtues and accomplishments, he might
afterwards have enjoyed his title and estate with equal comfort and
reputation. But as merit does not go by inheritance, like house and
land, young _Rustick's_ character was entirely the reverse of his
father's. He was of an awkward clumsy make; and the heaviness of his
disposition, and the coarseness of his manners perfectly corresponded
with the shape of his body. Though he was sent to school very early,
and put under the care of the best instructors which the country
afforded, he was a considerable time before he could tell his letters,
and much longer before he could read with tolerable accuracy: and even
then he pronounced every thing with such a clownish accent and such a
drawling tone, that any stranger would have taken him for a young
country bumkin, who had been used to follow the plow tail, and not for
the son and heir of a wealthy gentleman. He was equally eminent for his
neatness and dexterity in the art of penmanship; for, even when he was
twelve years old, if you had seen the letter which he then sent to his
mamma without the knowledge of his master, it was wrote so crooked
(i.e. not from side to side as it ought to have been, but from corner
to corner) and the strokes were all so coarse and uneven, and the whole
of the letter so awkwardly spelt, and so unmercifully blotted and
bedawbed, that you would have thought it had been the elegant epistle
of _Tony Clodhopper_ to his grandmother _Goody Linsey Woolsey_. As for
his mamma, poor gentlewoman! when she first opened it, she thought it
had been sent to her by some impudent shoe black or chimney sweeper;
but when she had directed her eyes to the bottom and read (though not,
I assure you, without the greatest difficulty)--"_from yr, loven ind
respactfle sun, Rickard Rostick_" she was so much oppressed with shame
and vexation, that she tore the letter into a thousand pieces, and was
ready to burst into tears. He was alike remarkable for the politeness
of his manners, and his agreeable address; for he had such a
treacherous memory, though he had been frequently reminded of the
propriety and indeed the necessity of observing those little punctilios
of good behaviour, that he seldom remembered when any company entered
the room in which he happened to be sitting, either to rise from his
chair or take off his hat; and when he was told of it either by his
parents or his master, he would bounce up, and snatch of his hat in
such an awkward hurry, grinning and leering the whole time, that you
would have thought he had just started from a dream; and even then he
would generally forget to finish the rude ceremony by making one of his
ducking bows. It is true, indeed, he had been under the hands of a
dancing master; but notwithstanding the utmost care and assiduity of
his teacher, who was esteemed a very excellent one; he was never able
to perform a whit better than he does in his present shape. In short,
you might as well have kept a hog in training for Newmarket races, or
an ox for his majesty to ride upon at a grand review, as have attempted
to initiate master _Dicky Rustick_ in the elements of politeness and
good breeding. With such a delicate disposition, and such amiable
talents, you will readily perceive that he must have been a most
agreeable play fellow. His favorite diversion was that which has been
distinguished by the vulgar, by the well known name of _Pully Hawly_,
in which he so much excelled that whenever he was invited by the young
gentlemen and ladies in the neighbourhood to play with them, he
generally rewarded their civility by tearing their coats or pulling
their clothes off their backs before he returned home; so that at last
they bestowed upon him, by general consent, the honourable title of
_'Squire Bruin_. It must, however, be acknowledged that he was a youth
of such impartial justice, that he shewed as little favour to his own
clothes as to those of _other_ people; for what with climbing up old
trees, and rambling over hedges and ditches, to seek for birds nests,
he commonly appeared by dinner time, how well soever he had been
dressed in the morning, in as ragged a coat as he wears at present. It
must also be remarked, that if the young gentlemen and ladies soon grew
weary, as indeed they did, of such a rough play fellow, he, in _his_
turn, was as willing to leave _their_ company, as they were to be rid
of _his_; for his chief delight was to associate with such vulgar boys
and girls as were of the same rugged disposition as himself. With these
he could pull and hawl and romp and tear as long as he pleased; and the
more active he became in this raggamuffin species of diversion, the
more they relished his company. But, upon occasion, he could fight as
well as play: I mean when he either was provoked to it by his equals,
or tempted to it by the hopes of defrauding of their little property
those who he knew had neither strength enough nor courage to resist
him. But whatever was his motive either for _beginning_ or suffering
himself to be _drawn_ into an engagement, he was very far from
confining himself to any rules of honour, or to the established laws of
war; for instead of boxing fairly, he would kick, pull hair, bite, and
scratch most unmercifully, and never fail to take every advantage of
his antagonist after he had brought him to the ground. For these
reasons he was soon dignified with the nick name of _Dick Bear_, even
by the vulgar boys in the streets; and most of them afterwards took
care never to engage with him unless when there were several other boys
present to see fair play. One would think that such a rough hewn and
slovenly mortal as we have been describing would have had little regard
for any delicacies in the eating way. But whoever draws such a
conclusion in favour of our hero, _Dicky Rustick_, is greatly mistaken;
for I can assure you that he had as nice and dainty a tooth as any lady
in the land. Though his father always kept a handsome table, it
afforded scarcely any thing which was good enough for the palate of
Master _Richard_. Nothing would go down with him but tarts, custards,
and the most costly cakes and puddings; for as to good roast and boiled
meat and plain and wholesome pies or dumplings, he would turn up his
nose at them as if they were fit only for vagabonds and beggars. Nay,
even to this very hour, and in his present clumsy shape, he is almost
as dainty as ever; for he is remarkably fond of honey, and if permitted
would often expose his shaggy head and his eyes to the resentment of
the bees, by disturbing their hives to rob them of their delicious
store. It was his fondness for niceties of every kind which shortened
his days, and eased his parents of their apprehensions for a son who,
if he had lived, would have been a continual plague and disgrace to
them; for on the day when he entered into the fourteenth year of his
age, being indulged rather more than common, he devoured such a
quantity of the richest tarts, that his stomach could not digest them;
so that he soon fell into a violent fever, which in a few days hurried
his unworthy soul out of the body of a young country 'squire (for such
he would have been) into the carcass of this hairy and awkward young
monster which now stands before you. He so well understands what I have
been saying, and is so much vexed at the character I have given of him,
which he knows to be a very just one, that if you will promise to quit
the room and leave him to himself he will pleasure you with one of his
best dances before you go."--Accordingly after thanking the Bramin for
the account he had given us, we all promised to leave Mr. _Bruin_ to
his own meditation; upon which, after taking two or three sulkey
rounds, the young savage reared himself upon his buttocks, and shuffled
a saraband which lasted a few minutes. When he had finished his dance
he swaggered down again upon his fore paws, and by a sullen growl
seemed to claim the performance of our promise, an indulgence which we
very readily granted him.