The doctor prescribed a repetatur of the julep, and mixed the
ingredients, secundum artem; Tom Clarke hemmed thrice, to clear his
pipes; while the rest of the company, including Dolly and her mother, who
had by this time administered to the knight, composed themselves into
earnest and hushed attention. Then the young lawyer began his narrative
to this effect:--
“I tell ye what, gemmen, I don’t pretend in this here case to flourish
and harangue like a--having never been called to--but what of that, d’ye
see? perhaps I may know as much as--facts are facts, as the saying is.--I
shall tell, repeat, and relate a plain story--matters of fact, d’ye see,
without rhetoric, oratory, ornament, or embellishment; without
repetition, tautology, circumlocution, or going about the bush; facts
which I shall aver, partly on the testimony of my own knowledge, and
partly from the information of responsible evidences of good repute and
credit, any circumstance known to the contrary notwithstanding.--For as
the law saith, if so be as how there is an exception to evidence, that
exception is in its nature but a denial of what is taken to be good by
the other party, and exceptio in non exceptis, firmat regulam, d’ye see.
--But howsomever, in regard to this here affair, we need not be so
scrupulous as if we were pleading before a judge sedente curia.”
Ferret, whose curiosity was rather more eager than that of any other
person in this audience, being provoked by this preamble, dashed the pipe
he had just filled in pieces against the grate; and after having
pronounced the interjection pish! with an acrimony of aspect altogether
peculiar to himself, “If,” said he, “impertinence and folly were felony
by the statute, there would be no warrant of unexceptionable evidence to
hang such an eternal babbler.” “Anan, babbler!” cried Tom, reddening
with passion, and starting up; “I’d have you to know, sir, that I can
bite as well as babble; and that, if I am so minded, I can run upon the
foot after my game without being in fault, as the saying is; and, which
is more, I can shake an old fox by the collar.”
How far this young lawyer might have proceeded to prove himself staunch
on the person of the misanthrope, if he had not been prevented, we shall
not determine; but the whole company were alarmed at his looks and
expressions. Dolly’s rosy cheeks assumed an ash colour, while she ran
between the disputants, crying, “Naay, naay--vor the love of God doan’t
then, doan’t then!” But Captain Crowe exerted a parental authority over
his nephew, saying, “Avast, Tom, avast!--Snug’s the word--we’ll have no
boarding, d’ye see.--Haul forward thy chair again, take thy berth, and
proceed with thy story in a direct course, without yawing like a Dutch
yanky.”
Tom, thus tutored, recollected himself, resumed his seat, and, after some
pause, plunged at once into the current of narration. “I told you
before, gemmen, that the gentleman in armour was the only son of Sir
Everhard Greaves, who possessed a free estate of five thousand a year in
our country, and was respected by all his neighbours as much for his
personal merit as for his family fortune. With respect to his son
Launcelot, whom you have seen, I can remember nothing until he returned
from the university, about the age of seventeen, and then I myself was
not more than ten years old. The young gemman was at that time in
mourning for his mother; though, God knows, Sir Everhard had more cause
to rejoice than to be afflicted at her death:--for, among friends” (here
he lowered his voice, and looked round the kitchen), “she was very
whimsical, expensive, ill-tempered, and, I’m afraid, a little--upon the--
flightly order--a little touched or so;--but mum for that--the lady is
now dead; and it is my maxim, de mortuis nil nisi bonum. The young
squire was even then very handsome, and looked remarkably well in his
weepers; but he had an awkward air and shambling gait, stooped mortally,
and was so shy and silent that he would not look a stranger in the face,
nor open his mouth before company. Whenever he spied a horse or carriage
at the gate, he would make his escape into the garden, and from thence
into the park; where many is the good time and often he has been found
sitting under a tree, with a book in his hand, reading Greek, Latin, and
other foreign linguas.
“Sir Everhard himself was no great scholar, and my father had forgot his
classical learning; and so the rector of the parish was desired to
examine young Launcelot. It was a long time before he found an
opportunity; the squire always gave him the slip.--At length the parson
catched him in bed of a morning, and, locking the door, to it they went
tooth and nail. What passed betwixt them the Lord in heaven knows; but
when the doctor came forth, he looked wild and haggard as if he had seen
a ghost, his face as white as paper, and his lips trembling like an
aspen-leaf. ‘Parson,’ said the knight, ‘what is the matter?--how dost
find my son? I hope he won’t turn out a ninny, and disgrace his family?’
The doctor, wiping the sweat from his forehead, replied, with some
hesitation, ‘he could not tell--he hoped the best--the squire was to be
sure a very extraordinary young gentleman.’--But the father urging him to
give an explicit answer, he frankly declared, that, in his opinion, the
son would turn out either a mirror of wisdom, or a monument of folly; for
his genius and disposition were altogether preternatural. The knight was
sorely vexed at this declaration, and signified his displeasure by
saying, the doctor, like a true priest, dealt in mysteries and oracles,
that would admit of different and indeed contrary interpretations. He
afterwards consulted my father, who had served as a steward upon the
estate for above thirty years, and acquired a considerable share of his
favour. ‘Will Clarke,’ said he, with tears in his eyes, ‘what shall I do
with this unfortunate lad? I would to God he had never been born; for I
fear he will bring my grey hairs with sorrow to the grave. When I am
gone, he will throw away the estate, and bring himself to infamy and
ruin, by keeping company with rooks and beggars.--O Will! I could forgive
extravagance in a young man; but it breaks my heart to see my only son
give such repeated proofs of a mean spirit and sordid disposition!’
“Here the old gentleman shed a flood of tears, and not without some
shadow of reason. By this time Launcelot was grown so reserved to his
father, that he seldom saw him or any of his relations, except when he
was in a manner forced to appear at table, and there his bashfulness
seemed every day to increase. On the other hand, he had formed some very
strange connexions. Every morning he visited the stable, where he not
only conversed with the grooms and helpers, but scraped acquaintance with
the horses; he fed his favourites with his own hand, stroked, caressed,
and rode them by turns; till at last they grew so familiar, that, even
when they were a-field at grass, and saw him at a distance, they would
toss their manes, whinny like so many colts at sight of the dam, and,
galloping up to the place where he stood, smell him all over.
“You must know that I myself, though a child, was his companion in all
these excursions. He took a liking to me on account of my being his
godson, and gave me more money than I knew what to do with. He had
always plenty of cash for the asking, as my father was ordered to supply
him liberally, the knight thinking that a command of money might help to
raise his thoughts to a proper consideration of his own importance. He
never could endure a common beggar, that was not either in a state of
infancy or of old age; but, in other respects, he made the guineas fly in
such a manner, as looked more like madness than generosity. He had no
communication with your rich yeomen, but rather treated them and their
families with studied contempt, because forsooth they pretended to assume
the dress and manners of the gentry.
“They kept their footmen, their saddle horses, and chaises; their wives
and daughters appeared in their jewels, their silks, and their satins,
their negligees and trollopees; their clumsy shanks, like so many shins
of beef, were cased in silk hose and embroidered slippers; their raw red
fingers, gross as the pipes of a chamber organ, which had been employed
in milking the cows, in twirling the mop or churn-staff, being adorned
with diamonds, were taught to thrum the pandola, and even to touch the
keys of the harpsichord! Nay, in every village they kept a rout, and set
up an assembly; and in one place a hog-butcher was master of the
ceremonies.
“I have heard Mr. Greaves ridicule them for their vanity and awkward
imitation; and therefore, I believe, he avoided all concerns with them,
even when they endeavoured to engage his attention. It was the lower
sort of people with whom he chiefly conversed, such as ploughmen,
ditchers, and other day-labourers. To every cottager in the parish he
was a bounteous benefactor. He was, in the literal sense of the word, a
careful overseer of the poor; for he went from house to house,
industriously inquiring into the distresses of the people. He repaired
their huts, clothed their backs, filled their bellies, and supplied them
with necessaries for exercising their industry and different occupations.
“I’ll give you one instance now, as a specimen of his character:--He and
I, strolling one day on the side of a common, saw two boys picking hips
and haws from the hedges; one seemed to be about five, and the other a
year older; they were both barefoot and ragged, but at the same time fat,
fair, and in good condition. ‘Who do you belong to?’ said Mr. Greaves.
‘To Mary Stile,’ replied the oldest, ‘the widow that rents one of them
housen.’ ‘And how dost live, my boy? Thou lookest fresh and jolly,’
resumed the squire. ‘Lived well enough till yesterday,’ answered the
child. ‘And pray what happened yesterday, my boy?’ continued Mr.
Greaves. ‘Happened!’ said he, ‘why, mammy had a coople of little Welsh
keawes, that gi’en milk enough to fill all our bellies; mammy’s, and
mine, and Dick’s here, and my two little sisters’ at hoam:--Yesterday the
squire seized the keawes for rent, God rot’un! Mammy’s gone to bed sick
and sulky; my two sisters be crying at hoam vor vood; and Dick and I be
come hither to pick haws and bullies.’
“My godfather’s face grew red as scarlet; he took one of the children in
either hand, and leading them towards the house, found Sir Everhard
talking with my father before the gate. Instead of avoiding the old
gentleman, as usual, he brushed up to him with a spirit he had never
shown before, and presenting the two ragged boys, ‘Surely, sir,’ said he,
‘you will not countenance that there ruffian, your steward, in oppressing
the widow and fatherless? On pretence of distraining for the rent of a
cottage, he has robbed the mother of these and other poor infant-orphans
of two cows, which afforded them their whole sustenance. Shall you be
concerned in tearing the hard-earned morsel from the mouth of indigence?
Shall your name, which has been so long mentioned as a blessing, be now
detested as a curse by the poor, the helpless, and forlorn? The father
of these babes was once your gamekeeper, who died of a consumption caught
in your service.--You see they are almost naked--I found them plucking
haws and sloes, in order to appease their hunger. The wretched mother is
starving in a cold cottage, distracted with the cries of other two
infants, clamorous for food; and while her heart is bursting with anguish
and despair, she invokes Heaven to avenge the widow’s cause upon the head
of her unrelenting landlord!’
“This unexpected address brought tears into the eyes of the good old
gentleman. ‘Will Clarke,’ said he to my father, ‘how durst you abuse my
authority at this rate? You who know I have always been a protector, not
an oppressor of the needy and unfortunate. I charge you, go immediately
and comfort this poor woman with immediate relief; instead of her own
cows, let her have two of the best milch cows of my dairy; they shall
graze in my parks in summer, and be foddered with my hay in winter.--She
shall sit rent-free for life; and I will take care of these her poor
orphans.’
“This was a very affecting scene. Mr. Launcelot took his father’s hand
and kissed it, while the tears ran down his cheeks; and Sir Everhard
embraced his son with great tenderness, crying, ‘My dear boy! God be
praised for having given you such a feeling heart.’ My father himself
was moved, thof a practitioner of the law, and consequently used to
distresses.--He declared, that he had given no directions to distrain;
and that the bailiff must have done it by his own authority.--‘If that be
the case,’ said the young squire, ‘let the inhuman rascal be turned out
of our service.’
“Well, gemmen, all the children were immediately clothed and fed, and the
poor widow had well-nigh run distracted with joy. The old knight, being
of a humane temper himself, was pleased to see such proofs of his son’s
generosity. He was not angry at his spending his money, but at
squandering away his time among the dregs of the people. For you must
know, he not only made matches, portioned poor maidens, and set up young
couples that came together without money; but he mingled in every rustic
diversion, and bore away the prize in every contest. He excelled every
swain of that district in feats of strength and activity; in leaping,
running, wrestling, cricket, cudgel-playing, and pitching the bar; and
was confessed to be, out of sight, the best dancer at all wakes and
holidays. Happy was the country-girl who could engage the young squire
as her partner! To be sure, it was a comely sight for to see as how the
buxom country-lasses, fresh and fragrant and blushing like the rose, in
their best apparel dight, their white hose, and clean short dimity
petticoats, their gaudy gowns of printed cotton; their top-knots and
stomachers, bedizened with bunches of ribbons of various colours, green,
pink, and yellow; to see them crowned with garlands, and assembled on
Mayday, to dance before Squire Launcelot, as he made his morning’s
progress through the village. Then all the young peasants made their
appearance with cockades, suited to the fancies of their several
sweethearts, and boughs of flowering hawthorn. The children sported
about like flocks of frisking lambs, or the young fry swarming under the
sunny bank of some meandering river. The old men and women, in their
holiday garments, stood at their doors to receive their benefactor, and
poured forth blessings on him as he passed. The children welcomed him
with their shrill shouts, the damsels with songs of praise, and the young
men, with the pipe and tabor, marched before him to the May-pole, which
was bedecked with flowers and bloom. There the rural dance began. A
plentiful dinner, with oceans of good liquor, was bespoke at the White
Hart. The whole village was regaled at the squire’s expense; and both
the day and the night was spent in mirth and pleasure.
“Lord help you! he could not rest if he thought there was an aching heart
in the whole parish. Every paltry cottage was in a little time converted
into a pretty, snug, comfortable habitation, with a wooden porch at the
door, glass casements in the windows, and a little garden behind, well
stored with greens, roots, and salads. In a word, the poor’s rate was
reduced to a mere trifle; and one would have thought the golden age
was revived in Yorkshire. But, as I told you before, the old knight
could not bear to see his only son so wholly attached to these lowly
pleasures, while he industriously shunned all opportunities of appearing
in that superior sphere to which he was designed by nature and by
fortune. He imputed his conduct to meanness of spirit, and advised with
my father touching the properest expedient to wean his affections from
such low-born pursuits. My father counselled him to send the young
gentleman up to London, to be entered as a student in the Temple, and
recommended him to the superintendence of some person who knew the town,
and might engage him insensibly in such amusements and connexions, as
would soon lift his ideas above the humble objects on which they had been
hitherto employed.
“This advice appeared so salutary, that it was followed without the least
hesitation. The young squire himself was perfectly well satisfied with
the proposal; and in a few days he set out for the great city. But there
was not a dry eye in the parish at his departure, although he prevailed
upon his father to pay in his absence all the pensions he had granted to
those who could not live on the fruit of their own industry. In what
manner he spent his time in London, it is none of my business to inquire;
thof I know pretty well what kind of lives are led by gemmen of your Inns
of Court.--I myself once belonged to Serjeants’ Inn, and was perhaps as
good a wit and a critic as any Templar of them all. Nay, as for that
matter, thof I despise vanity, I can aver with a safe conscience, that I
had once the honour to belong to the society called the Town. We were
all of us attorney’s clerks, gemmen, and had our meetings at an ale-house
in Butcher Row, where we regulated the diversions of the theatre.
“But to return from this digression. Sir Everhard Greaves did not seem
to be very well pleased with the conduct of his son at London. He got
notice of some irregularities and scrapes into which he had fallen; and
the squire seldom wrote to his father, except to draw upon him for money;
which he did so fast, that in eighteen months the old gentleman lost all
patience.
“At this period Squire Darnel chanced to die, leaving an only daughter, a
minor, heiress of three thousand a year under the guardianship of her
uncle Anthony, whose brutal character all the world knows. The breath
was no sooner out of his brother’s body, than he resolved, if possible,
to succeed him in parliament as representative for the borough of
Ashenton. Now you must know, that this borough had been for many years a
bone of contention between the families of Greaves and Darnel; and at
length the difference was compromised by the interposition of friends, on
condition that Sir Everhard and Squire Darnel should alternately
represent the place in parliament. They agreed to this compromise for
their mutual convenience; but they were never heartily reconciled. Their
political principles did not tally; and their wives looked upon each
other as rivals in fortune and magnificence. So that there was no
intercourse between them, thof they lived in the same neighbourhood. On
the contrary, in all disputes, they constantly headed the opposite
parties. Sir Everhard understanding that Anthony Darnel had begun to
canvass, and was putting every iron in the fire, in violation and
contempt of the pactum familiae before mentioned, fell into a violent
passion, that brought on a severe fit of the gout; by which he was
disabled from giving personal attention to his own interest. My father,
indeed, employed all his diligence and address, and spared neither money,
time, nor constitution, till at length he drank himself into a
consumption, which was the death of him. But, after all, there is a
great difference between a steward and a principal. Mr. Darnel attended
in propria persona, flattered and caressed the women, feasted the
electors, hired mobs, made processions, and scattered about his money in
such a manner, that our friends durst hardly show their heads in public.
“At this very crisis, our young squire, to whom his father had written an
account of the transaction, arrived unexpectedly at Greavesbury Hall, and
had a long private conference with Sir Everhard. The news of his return
spread like wildfire through all that part of the country. Bonfires were
made, and the bells set a-ringing in several towns and steeples; and next
morning above seven hundred people were assembled at the gate, with
music, flags, and streamers, to welcome their young squire, and accompany
him to the borough of Ashenton. He set out on foot with his retinue, and
entered one end of the town just as Mr. Darnel’s mob had come in at the
other. Both arrived about the same time at the market-place; but Mr.
Darnel, mounting first into the balcony of the town-house, made a long
speech to the people in favour of his own pretensions, not without some
invidious reflections glanced at Sir Everhard, his competitor.
“We did not much mind the acclamations of his party, which we knew had
been hired for the purpose; but we were in some pain for Mr. Greaves, who
had not been used to speak in public. He took his turn, however, in the
balcony, and, uncovering his head, bowed all round with the most engaging
courtesy. He was dressed in a green frock, trimmed with gold, and his
own dark hair flowed about his ears in natural curls, while his face was
overspread with a blush, that improved the glow of youth to a deeper
crimson; and I daresay set many a female heart a palpitating. When he
made his first appearance, there was just such a humming and clapping of
hands as you may have heard when the celebrated Garrick comes upon the
stage in King Lear, or King Richard, or any other top character. But how
agreeably were we disappointed, when our young gentleman made such an
oration as would not have disgraced a Pitt, an Egmont, or a Murray! while
he spoke, all was hushed in admiration and attention; you could have
almost heard a feather drop to the ground. It would have charmed you to
hear with what modesty he recounted the services which his father and
grandfather had done to the corporation; with what eloquence he
expatiated upon the shameful infraction of the treaty subsisting between
the two families; and with what keen and spirited strokes of satire he
retorted the sarcasms of Darnel.
“He no sooner concluded his harangue, than there was such a burst of
applause, as seemed to rend the very sky. Our music immediately struck
up; our people advanced with their ensigns, and, as every man had a good
cudgel, broken heads would have ensued, had not Mr. Darnel and his party
thought proper to retreat with uncommon despatch. He never offered to
make another public entrance, as he saw the torrent ran so violently
against him; but sat down with his loss, and withdrew his opposition,
though at bottom extremely mortified and incensed. Sir Everhard was
unanimously elected, and appeared to be the happiest man upon earth; for,
besides the pleasure arising from his victory over this competitor, he
was now fully satisfied that his son, instead of disgracing, would do
honour to his family. It would have moved a heart of stone, to see with
what a tender transport of paternal joy he received his dear Launcelot,
after having heard of his deportment and success at Ashenton; where, by
the bye, he gave a ball to the ladies, and displayed as much elegance and
politeness, as if he had been bred at the court of Versailles.
“This joyous season was of short duration. In a little time all the
happiness of the family was overcast by a sad incident, which hath left
such an unfortunate impression upon the mind of the young gentleman, as,
I am afraid, will never be effaced. Mr. Darnel’s niece and ward, the
great heiress, whose name is Aurelia, was the most celebrated beauty of
the whole country; if I said the whole kingdom, or indeed all Europe,
perhaps I should barely do her justice. I don’t pretend to be a limner,
gemmen; nor does it become me to delineate such excellence; but surely I
may presume to repeat from the play--
Oh! she is all that painting can express,
Or youthful poets fancy when they love?
“At that time she might be about seventeen, tall and fair, and so
exquisitely shaped--you may talk of your Venus de Medicis, your Dianas,
your Nymphs, and Galateas; but if Praxiteles, and Roubilliac, and Wilton,
were to lay their heads together, in order to make a complete pattern of
beauty, they would hardly reach her model of perfection.--As for
complexion, poets will talk of blending the lily with the rose, and bring
in a parcel of similes of cowslips, carnations, pinks, and daisies.--
There’s Dolly, now, has got a very good complexion.--Indeed, she’s the
very picture of health and innocence--you are, indeed, my pretty lass;--
but parva componere magnis.--Miss Darnel is all amazing beauty, delicacy,
and dignity! Then the softness and expression of her fine blue eyes; her
pouting lips of coral hue; her neck, that rises like a tower of polished
alabaster between two mounts of snow. I tell you what, gemmen, it don’t
signify talking; if e’er a one of you was to meet this young lady alone,
in the midst of a heath or common, or any unfrequented place, he would
down on his knees, and think he kneeled before some supernatural being.
I’ll tell you more: she not only resembles an angel in beauty, but a
saint in goodness, and an hermit in humility;--so void of all pride and
affectation; so soft, and sweet, and affable, and humane! Lord! I could
tell such instances of her charity!
“Sure enough, she and Sir Launcelot were formed by nature for each other.
Howsoever, the cruel hand of fortune hath intervened, and severed them
for ever. Every soul that knew them both, said it was a thousand pities
but they should come together, and extinguish, in their happy union, the
mutual animosity of the two families, which had so often embroiled the
whole neighbourhood. Nothing was heard but the praises of Miss Aurelia
Darnel and Mr. Launcelot Greaves; and no doubt the parties were
prepossessed, by this applause, in favour of each other. At length, Mr.
Greaves went one Sunday to her parish church; but, though the greater
part of the congregation watched their looks, they could not perceive
that she took the least notice of him; or that he seemed to be struck
with her appearance. He afterwards had an opportunity of seeing her,
more at leisure, at the York assembly, during the races; but this
opportunity was productive of no good effect, because he had that same
day quarrelled with her uncle on the turf.
“An old grudge, you know, gemmen, is soon inflamed to a fresh rupture.
It was thought Mr. Darnel came on purpose to show his resentment. They
differed about a bet upon Miss Cleverlegs, and, in the course of the
dispute, Mr. Darnel called him a petulant boy. The young squire, who was
as hasty as gunpowder, told him he was man enough to chastise him for his
insolence; and would do it on the spot, if he thought it would not
interrupt the diversion. In all probability they would have come to
points immediately, had not the gentlemen interposed; so that nothing
further passed, but abundance of foul language on the part of Mr.
Anthony, and a repeated defiance to single combat.
“Mr. Greaves, making a low bow, retired from the field; and in the
evening danced at the assembly with a young lady from the bishoprick,
seemingly in good temper and spirits, without having any words with Mr.
Darnel, who was also present. But in the morning he visited that proud
neighbour betimes; and they had almost reached a grove of trees on the
north side of the town, when they were suddenly overtaken by half a dozen
gentlemen, who had watched their motions. It was in vain for them to
dissemble their design, which could not now take effect. They gave up
their pistols, and a reconciliation was patched up by the pressing
remonstrances of their common friends; but Mr. Darnel’s hatred still
rankled at bottom, and soon broke out in the sequel. About three months
after this transaction, his niece Aurelia, with her mother, having been
to visit a lady in the chariot, the horses being young, and not used to
the traces, were startled at the braying of a jackass on the common, and,
taking fright, ran away with the carriage, like lightning. The coachman
was thrown from the box, and the ladies screamed piteously for help. Mr.
Greaves chanced to be a-horseback on the other side of an enclosure, when
he heard their shrieks; and riding up the hedge, knew the chariot, and
saw their disaster. The horses were then running full speed in such a
direction, as to drive headlong over a precipice into a stone quarry,
where they and the chariot, and the ladies, must be dashed to pieces.
“You may conceive, gemmen, what his thoughts were when he saw such a fine
young lady, in the flower of her age, just plunging into eternity; when
he saw the lovely Aurelia on the brink of being precipitated among rocks,
where her delicate limbs must be mangled and tore asunder; when he
perceived, that, before he could ride round by the gate, the tragedy
would be finished. The fence was so thick and high, flanked with a broad
ditch on the outside, that he could not hope to clear it, although he was
mounted on Scipio, bred out of Miss Cowslip, the sire Muley, and his
grandsire the famous Arabian Mustapha.--Scipio was bred by my father, who
would not have taken a hundred guineas for him, from any other person but
the young squire--indeed, I have heard my poor father say”----
By this time Ferret’s impatience was become so outrageous, that he
exclaimed in a furious tone, “D--n your father, and his horse, and his
colt into the bargain!”
Tom made no reply; but began to strip with great expedition. Captain
Crowe was so choked with passion that he could utter nothing but
disjointed sentences. He rose from his seat, brandished his horsewhip,
and, seizing his nephew by the collar, cried, “Odd’s heartlikins! sirrah,
I have a good mind--Devil fire your running tackle, you landlubber!--
can’t you steer without all this tacking hither and thither, and the Lord
knows whither?--‘Noint my block! I’d give thee a rope’s end for thy
supper if it wan’t”----
Dolly had conceived a sneaking kindness for the young lawyer, and
thinking him in danger of being roughly handled, flew to his relief. She
twisted her hand in Crowe’s neckcloth without ceremony, crying, “Sha’t
then, I tell thee, old codger--who kears a vig vor thy voolish tantrums?”
While Crowe looked black in the face, and ran the risk of strangulation
under the gripe of this Amazon, Mr. Clarke having disengaged himself of
his hat, wig, coat, and waistcoat, advanced in an elegant attitude of
manual offence towards the misanthrope, who snatched up a gridiron from
the chimney corner, and Discord seemed to clap her sooty wings in
expectation of battle. But as the reader may have more than once already
cursed the unconscionable length of this chapter, we must postpone to the
next opportunity the incidents that succeeded this denunciation of war.