I have broke open my Letter to inform you, that I miss’d the
Opportunity of sending it by the Messenger, who I expected would have
called upon me in his Return through this Village to _York_, so it has
laid a Week or ten Days by me.
—I am not sorry for the Disappointment, because something has since
happened, in Continuation of this Affair, which I am thereby enabled to
transmit to you, all under one Trouble.
When I finished the above Account, I thought (as did every Soul in the
Parish) _Trim_ had met with so thorough a Rebuff from _John_ the
Parish-Clerk and the Town’s Folks, who all took against him, that
_Trim_ would be glad to be quiet, and let the Matter rest.
But, it seems, it is not half an Hour ago since _Trim_ sallied forth
again; and, having borrowed a Sow-Gelder’s Horn, with hard Blowing he
got the whole Town round him, and endeavoured to raise a Disturbance,
and fight the whole Battle over again:—That he had been used in the
last Fray worse than a Dog;—not by _John_ the Parish-Clerk,—for I
shou’d not, quoth _Trim_, have valued him a Rush single Hands:—But all
the Town sided with him, and twelve Men in Buckram set upon me all at
once, and kept me in Play at Sword’s Point for three Hours
together.—Besides, quoth Trim, there were two misbegotten Knaves in
_Kendal Green_, who lay all the while in Ambush in _John_’s own House,
and they all sixteen came upon my Back, and let drive at me together.—A
Plague, says _Trim_, of all Cowards!—_Trim_ repeated this Story above a
Dozen Times;—which made some of the Neighbours pity him, thinking the
poor Fellow crack-brain’d, and that he actually believed what he said.
After this _Trim_ dropp’d the Affair of the _Breeches_, and begun a
fresh Dispute about the _Reading-Desk_, which I told you had occasioned
some small Dispute between the _late_ Parson and _John_, some Years
ago.
This _Reading-Desk_, as you will observe, was but an Episode wove into
the main Story by the Bye;—for the main Affair was the _Battle of the
Breeches_ and _Great Watch-Coat_.—However, _Trim_ being at last driven
out of these two Citadels,—he has seized hold, in his Retreat, of this
_Reading-Desk_, with a View, as it seems, to take Shelter behind it.
I cannot say but the Man has fought it out obstinately enough;—and, had
his Cause been good, I should have really pitied him. For when he was
driven out of the _Great Watch-Coat_,—you see, he did not run away;—no,
—he retreated behind the _Breeches;_—and, when he could make nothing of
it behind the _Breeches_,—he got behind the _Reading-Desk_.—To what
other Hold Trim will next retreat, the Politicians of this Village are
not agreed.—Some think his next Move will be towards the Rear of the
Parson’s Boot;—but, as it is thought he cannot make a long Stand
there,—others are of Opinion, That _Trim_ will once more in his Life
get hold of the Parson’s Horse, and charge upon him, or perhaps behind
him. But as the Horse is not easy to be caught, the more general
Opinion is, That, when he is driven out of the _Reading-Desk_, he will
make his last Retreat in such a Manner as, if possible, to gain the
_Close-Stool_, and defend himself behind it to the very last Drop. If
_Trim_ should make this Movement, by my Advice he should be left
besides his Citadel, in full Possession of the Field of Battle;—where,
’tis certain, he will keep every Body a League off, and may pop by
himself till he is weary: Besides, as _Trim_ seems bent upon _purging_
himself, and may have Abundance of foul Humours to work off, I think he
cannot be better placed.
But this is all Matter of Speculation.—Let me carry you back to Matter
of Fact, and tell you what Kind of a Stand _Trim_ has actually made
behind the said _Desk_.
“Neighbours and Townsmen all, I will be sworn before my Lord Mayor,
That _John_ and his nineteen Men in _Buckram_, have abused me worse
than a Dog; for they told you that I play’d fast and go-loose with the
_late_ Parson and him, in that old Dispute of theirs about the
_Reading-Desk;_ and that I made Matters worse between them, and not
better.”
Of this Charge, _Trim_ declared he was as innocent as the Child that
was unborn: That he would be Book-sworn he had no Hand in it. He
produced a strong Witness;—and, moreover, insinuated, that _John_
himself, instead of being angry for what he had done in it, had
actually thank’d him. Aye, _Trim_, says the Wight in the Plush
Breeches, but that was, _Trim_, the Day before _John_ found thee
out.—Besides, _Trim_, there is nothing in that:—For, the very Year that
thou wast made Town’s Pinder, thou knowest well, that I both thank’d
thee myself; and, moreover, gave thee a good warm Supper for turning
_John Lund_’s Cows and Horses out of my Hard-Corn Close; which if thou
had’st not done, (as thou told’st me) I should have lost my whole Crop:
Whereas, _John Lund_ and _Thomas Patt_, who are both here to testify,
and will take their Oaths on’t, That thou thyself wast the very Man who
set the Gate open; and, after all,—it was not thee, _Trim_,—’twas the
Blacksmith’s poor Lad who turn’d them out: So that a Man may be thank’d
and rewarded too for a good Turn which he never did, nor ever did
intend.
_Trim_ could not sustain this unexpected Stroke;—so _Trim_ march’d off
the Field, without Colours flying, or his Horn sounding, or any other
Ensigns of Honour whatever.
Whether after this _Trim_ intends to rally a second Time, or whether
_Trim_ may not take it into his Head to claim the Victory,—no one but
_Trim_ himself can inform you:—However, the general Opinion, upon the
whole, is this, That, in three several pitch’d Battles, _Trim_ has been
so trimm’d, as never disastrous Hero was _trimm’d_ before him.