The History of Sandford and Merton Part 17

_Mr Barlow._--I am sorry that you, who pretend to have been so well brought up, should have recourse to the example of the Greenlanders, in order to justify your own conduct; but in this case you are mistaken, for the barbarians are a great deal wiser than young gentlemen. The person who thinks himself injured does indeed challenge his antagonist, but it is to a very different sort of combat from what you imagine. Both parties appear at the appointed time, and each surrounded with a company of his particular friends. The place where they a.s.semble is generally the middle of one of their large huts, that all the persons of their society may be impartial spectators of their contest. When they are thus convened, the champion, who by agreement is to begin, steps forward into the middle of the circle, and entertains them with a song or speech, which he has before meditated. In this performance he generally contrives to throw all the ridicule he is able upon his antagonist, and his satire is applauded by his own party, and excites universal merriment among the audience. When he has sung or declaimed himself out of breath, it is the turn of his rival to begin, who goes on in the same manner, answering all the satire that has been thrown upon him, and endeavouring to win the laughter over to his own side. In this manner do the combatants go on, alternately reciting their compositions against each other, till the memory or invention of one of them fails, and he is obliged to yield the victory to his rival. After this public spectacle of their ingenuity, the two champions generally forget all their animosities, and are cordially reconciled. "This," added Mr Barlow, "appears to me to be a much better method of answering ridicule, than by giving way to pa.s.sion and resentment, and beating those that displease us; and one of these honest Greenlanders would be as much ashamed of such a sudden transport of anger as a Kamtschatkan traveller would be of managing his dogs as ill as you did yesterday."

CHAPTER VII.

Tommy and Harry visit Home--The Fas.h.i.+onable Guests--Miss Simmons takes notice of Harry--Harry's Troubles--Master Compton and Mash--Estrangement of Tommy--Visit to the Theatre--Misbehaviour there--Card Playing--The Ball--Harry Dancing a Minuet--Story of Sir Philip Sidney--Master Mash insults Harry--The Fight in the Drawing-room--The Bull-baiting--Tommy strikes Harry--Master Mash's Combat with Harry--Tommy's Narrow Escape from the Bull--The Grateful Black.

And now the time arrived when Tommy was by appointment to go home and spend some time with his parents. Mr Barlow had been long afraid of this visit, as he knew he would meet a great deal of company there, who would give him impressions of a very different nature from what he had with much a.s.siduity been labouring to excite. However, the visit was unavoidable, and Mr Merton sent so pressing an invitation for Harry to accompany his friend, after having obtained the consent of his father, that Mr Barlow, with much regret, took leave of both his pupils. Harry, from the experience he had formerly acquired of polite life, had no great inclination for the expedition; however, his temper was too easy and obliging to raise any objections, and the real affection he now entertained for Master Merton rendered him less averse than he would otherwise have been.

When they arrived at Mr Merton's, they were introduced into a crowded drawing-room, full of the most elegant company which that part of the country afforded, among whom were several young gentlemen and ladies of different ages, who had been purposely invited to spend their holidays with Master Merton. As soon as Master Merton entered, every tongue was let loose in his praise; "he was grown, he was improved, he was such a charming boy;" his eyes, his hair, his teeth, his every feature was the admiration of all the ladies. Thrice did he make the circle, in order to receive the congratulations of the company, and to be introduced to the young ladies.

As to Harry, he had the good fortune to be taken notice of by n.o.body except Mr Merton, who received him with great cordiality. A lady, however, who sat by Mrs Merton, asked her in a whisper, which was loud enough to be heard all over the room, whether that was the little _ploughboy_ whom she had heard Mr Barlow was attempting to breed up like a gentleman. Mrs Merton answered it was. "I protest," said the lady, "I should have thought so by his plebeian look and vulgar air. But I wonder, my dear madam, that you will suffer your son, who, without flattery, is one of the most accomplished children I ever saw in my life, with quite the air of fas.h.i.+on, to keep such company. Are you not afraid that Master Merton should insensibly contract bad habits, and a grovelling way of thinking? For my own part, as I think a good education is a thing of the utmost consequence in life, I have spared no pains to give my dear Matilda every possible advantage." "Indeed," replied Mrs Merton, "one may see the excellence of her education in everything Miss Matilda does. She plays most divinely upon the harpsichord, talks French even better than she does English, and draws in the style of a master.

Indeed, I think that last figure of the _naked Gladiator_ the finest thing I ever saw in my life!"

While this conversation was going on in one part of the room, a young lady, observing that n.o.body seemed to take the least notice of Harry, advanced towards him with the greatest affability, and began to enter into conversation with him. This young lady's name was Simmons. Her father and mother had been two of the most respectable people in the country, according to the old style of English gentry, but, he having died while she was young, the care of her had devolved upon an uncle, who was a man of sense and benevolence, but a very great humorist. This gentleman had such peculiar ideas of female character, that he waged war with most of the polite and modern accomplishments. As one of the first blessings of life, according to his notions, was health, he endeavoured to prevent that sickly delicacy, which is considered as so great an ornament in fas.h.i.+onable life by a more robust and hardy education. His niece was accustomed, from her earliest years, to plunge into the cold bath at every season of the year, to rise by candle-light in winter, to ride a dozen miles upon a trotting horse, or to walk as many, even with the hazard of being splashed, or soiling her clothes. By this mode of education Miss Sukey (for so she had the misfortune to be named) acquired an excellent character, accompanied, however, with some dispositions which disqualified her almost as much as Harry for fas.h.i.+onable life. She was acquainted with all the best authors in our language; nor was she ignorant of those in French, although she could not speak a word of the language. Her uncle, who was a man of sense and knowledge, had besides instructed her in several parts of knowledge which rarely fall to the lot of ladies, such as the established laws of nature, and a small degree of geometry. She was, besides, brought up to every species of household employment, which is now exploded by ladies of every rank and station as mean and vulgar, and taught to believe that domestic economy is a point of the utmost consequence to every woman who intends to be a wife or mother. As to music, though Miss Simmons had a very agreeable voice, and could sing several simple songs in a very pleasing manner, she was entirely ignorant of it. Her uncle used to say, that human life is not long enough to throw away so much time upon the science of _making a noise_. Nor would he permit her to learn French, although he understood it himself; women, he thought, are not birds of pa.s.sage, that are to be eternally changing their place of abode. "I have never seen any good," would he say, "from the importation of foreign manners; every virtue may be learned and practised at home, and it is only because we do not choose to have either virtue or religion among us that so many adventurers are yearly sent out to smuggle foreign graces.

As to various languages, I do not see the necessity of them for a woman.

My niece is to marry an Englishman, and to live in England. To what purpose, then, should I labour to take off the difficulty of conversing with foreigners, and to promote her intercourse with barbers, valets, dancing-masters, and adventurers of every description, that are continually doing us the honour to come among us? As to the French nation, I know and esteem it on many accounts, but I am very doubtful whether the English will ever gain much by adopting either their manners or their government, and when respectable foreigners choose to visit us, I see no reason why they should not take the trouble of learning the language of the country."

Such had been the education of Miss Simmons, who was the only one of all the genteel company at Mr Merton's that thought Harry deserving the least attention. This young lady, who possessed an uncommon degree of natural benevolence of character, came up to him in such a manner as set him perfectly at his ease. Harry was dest.i.tute of the artificial graces of society, but he possessed that natural politeness and good nature, without which all artificial graces are the most disgusting things in the world. Harry had an understanding naturally strong; and Mr Barlow, while he had with the greatest care preserved him from all false impressions had taken great pains in cultivating the faculties of his mind. Harry, indeed, never said any of those brilliant things which render a boy the darling of the ladies; he had not that vivacity, or rather impertinence, which frequently pa.s.ses for wit with superficial people; but he paid the greatest attention to what was said to him, and made the most judicious observations upon subjects he understood. For this reason, Miss Simmons, although much older and more improved, received great satisfaction from conversing with him, and thought little Harry infinitely more agreeable and judicious than any of the smart young gentlemen she had hitherto seen at Mr Merton's.

But now the company was summoned to the important business of dinner.

Harry could not help sighing when he reflected on what he had to undergo; however, he determined to bear it with all imaginable fort.i.tude, for the sake of his friend Tommy. The dinner indeed was, if possible, more dreadful than anything he had before undergone--so many fine gentlemen and fine ladies; so many powdered servants to stand behind their chairs; such an apparatus of dishes which Harry had never tasted before, and which almost made him sick when he did taste; so many removes; such pomp and solemnity about what seemed the easiest thing in the world--that Harry could not help envying the condition of his father's labourers, who, when they are hungry, can sit at their ease under a hedge, and make a dinner without plates, table-cloths, or compliments!

In the mean time his friend Tommy was received amid the circle of the ladies, and attended to as a prodigy of wit and ingenuity. Harry could not help being surprised at this. His affection for his friend was totally unmixed with the meanness of jealousy, and he received the sincerest pleasure from every improvement which Tommy had made; however, he had never discovered in him any of those surprising talents; and, when he could catch anything that Tommy said, it appeared to him rather inferior to his usual method of conversation. However, as so many fine ladies were of a different opinion, he took it for granted that he must be mistaken.

But if Harry's opinion of his friend's abilities was not much improved by this exhibition, it was not so with Tommy. The repeated a.s.surances which he received that he was indeed a little _prodigy_, began to convince him that he really was so. When he considered the company he came from, he found that infinite injustice had been done to his merit; for at Mr Barlow's he was frequently contradicted, and obliged to give a reason for what he said; but here, in order to be admired, he had nothing to do but to talk; whether he had any meaning or not, his auditors always found either wit or sense, or a most entertaining sprightliness in all he said. Nor was Mrs Merton herself deficient in bestowing marks of admiration upon her son. To see him before, improved in health, in understanding, in virtue, had given her a pleasurable sensation, for she was by no means dest.i.tute of good dispositions; but to see him s.h.i.+ne with such transcendant brightness, before such excellent judges, and in so polite a company, inspired her with raptures she had never felt before. Indeed, in consequence of this success, the young gentleman's volubility improved so much that, before dinner was over, he seemed disposed to engross the whole conversation to himself; and Mr Merton, who did not quite relish the sallies of his son so much as his wife, was once or twice obliged to interpose and check him in his career. This Mrs Merton thought very hard; and all the ladies, after they had retired into the drawing-room, agreed, that his father would certainly spoil his temper by such improper contradiction.

As to little Harry, he had not the good fortune to please the greater number of the ladies. They observed that he was awkward and ungenteel, and had a heavy, clownish look; he was also silent and reserved, and had not said a single agreeable thing; if Mr Barlow chose to keep a school for carters and threshers, n.o.body would hinder him, but it was not proper to introduce such vulgar people to the sons of persons of fas.h.i.+on. It was therefore agreed that Mr Barlow ought either to send little Harry home to his friends, or to be no more honoured with the company of Master Merton. Indeed, one of the ladies hinted, that Mr Barlow himself was but "an odd kind of man, who never went to a.s.semblies, and played upon no kind of instrument."

"Why," answered Mrs Merton, "to tell the truth, I was not over fond of the scheme. Mr Barlow, to be sure, though a very good, is a very odd kind of man. However, as he is so disinterested, and would never receive the least present from us, I doubt whether we could with propriety insist upon his turning little Sandford out of the house." "If that is the case, madam," answered Mrs Compton (for that was the name of the lady), "I think it would be infinitely better to remove Master Merton, and place him in some polite seminary, where he might acquire a knowledge of the world, and make genteel connections. This will always be the greatest advantage to a young gentleman, and will prove of the most essential service to him in life; for, though a person has all the merit in the world, without such acquaintance it will never push him forward, or enable him to make a figure. This is the plan which I have always pursued with Augustus and Matilda; I think I may say not entirely without success, for they have both the good fortune to have formed the most brilliant acquaintances. As to Augustus, he is so intimate with young Lord Squander, who you know is possessed of the greatest parliamentary interest, that I think that his fortune is as good as made."

Miss Simmons, who was present at this refined and wise conversation, could not help looking with so much significance at this mention of Lord Squander, that Mrs Compton coloured a little, and asked with some warmth, whether she knew anything of that young n.o.bleman.

"Why, madam," answered the young lady, "what I know is very little; but if you desire me to inform you, it is my duty to speak the truth." "Oh, to be sure, miss," replied Mrs Compton, a little angrily, "we all know that your _judgment_ and _knowledge_ of the world are superior to what anybody else can boast; and therefore I shall be infinitely obliged to you for any _information_ you may be pleased to give." "Indeed, madam,"

answered the young lady, "I have very little of either to boast, nor am I personally acquainted with the n.o.bleman you are talking of; but I have a cousin, a very good boy, who is at the same public school with his lords.h.i.+p, and he has given me such a character of him as does not much prepossess me in his favour." "And what may this wise cousin of yours have said of his lords.h.i.+p?" "_Only_, madam, that he is one of the worst boys in the whole school; that he has neither genius nor application for anything that becomes his rank and situation; that he has no taste for anything but gaming, horse-racing, and the most contemptible amus.e.m.e.nts; that, though his allowance is large, he is continually running in debt with everybody that will trust him; and that he has broken his word so often that n.o.body has the least confidence in what he says. Added to this, I have heard that he is so haughty, tyrannical, and overbearing, that n.o.body can long preserve his friends.h.i.+p without the meanest flattery and subservience to all his vicious inclinations; and, to finish all, that he is of so ungrateful a temper, that he was never known to do an act of kindness to any one, or to care about anything but himself."

Here Miss Matilda could not help interposing with warmth. She said, "that his lords.h.i.+p had nothing in his character or manners that did not perfectly become a n.o.bleman of the most elevated soul. Little grovelling minds, indeed, which are always envious of their superiors, might give a disagreeable turn to the generous openness of this young n.o.bleman's temper. That, as to gaming and running in debt, they were so essential to a man of fas.h.i.+on, that n.o.body who was not born in the city, and oppressed by city prejudices, would think of making the least objection to them." She then made a panegyric upon his lords.h.i.+p's person, his elegant taste and dress, his new phaeton, his entertaining conversation, his extraordinary performance upon the violin; and concluded that, with such abilities and accomplishments, she did not doubt of one day seeing him at the head of the nation.

Miss Simmons had no desire of pus.h.i.+ng the conversation any farther; and the rest of the company coming in to tea, the disquisition about Lord Squander finished.

After tea, several of the young ladies were desired to amuse the company with music and singing; among the rest Miss Simmons sang a little Scotch song, called Lochaber, in so artless, but sweet and pathetic a manner, that little Harry listened almost with tears in his eyes, though several of the young ladies, by their significant looks and gestures, treated it with ineffable contempt.

After this, Miss Matilda, who was allowed to be a perfect mistress of music, played and sang several celebrated Italian airs; but as these were in a language totally unintelligible to Harry, he received very little pleasure, though all the rest of the company were in raptures.

She then proceeded to play several pieces of music, which were allowed by all connoisseurs to require infinite skill to execute. The audience seemed all delighted, and either felt or pretended to feel inexpressible pleasure; even Tommy himself, who did not know one note from another, had caught so much of the general enthusiasm, that he applauded as loud as the rest of the company. But Harry, whose temper was not quite so pliable, could not conceal the intolerable weariness that overpowered his senses during this long exhibition. He gaped, he yawned, he stretched, he even pinched himself, in order to keep his attention alive, but all in vain; the more Miss Matilda exercised her skill in playing pieces of the most difficult execution, the more did Harry's propensity to drowsiness increase. At length the lateness of the hour, which much exceeded Harry's time of going to bed, conspiring with the opiate charms of music, he could resist no longer, but insensibly fell back upon his chair fast asleep. This unfortunate accident was soon remarked by the rest of the company, and confirmed them very much in the opinion they had conceived of Harry's vulgarity; while he, in the meantime, enjoyed the most placid slumber, which was not dissipated till Miss Matilda had desisted from playing.

Thus was the first day pa.s.sed at Mr Merton's, very little to the satisfaction of Harry; the next, and the next after, were only repet.i.tions of the same scene. The little gentry, whose tastes and manners were totally different from his, had now imbibed a perfect contempt for Harry, and it was with great difficulty that they condescended to treat him even with common civility. In this _laudable_ behaviour they were very much confirmed by Master Compton and Master Mash. Master Compton was reckoned a very genteel boy, though all his gentility consisted in a pair of buckles so big that they almost crippled him; in a slender emaciated figure, and a look of consummate impudence. He had almost finished his education at a public school, where he had learned every vice and folly which is commonly taught at such places, without the least improvement either of his character or his understanding. Master Mash was the son of a neighbouring gentleman, who had considerably impaired his fortune by an inordinate love of horse-racing. Having been from his infancy accustomed to no other conversation than about winning and losing money, he had acquired the idea that, to bet successfully, was the summit of all human ambition. He had been almost brought up in the stable, and therefore had imbibed the greatest interest about horses; not from any real affection for that n.o.ble animal, but merely because he considered them as engines for the winning of money. He too was now improving his talents by a public education, and longed impatiently for the time when he should be set free from all restraint, and allowed to display the superiority of his genius at Ascot and Newmarket.

These two young gentlemen had conceived the most violent dislike to Harry, and lost no occasion of saying or doing everything they had in their power to mortify him. To Tommy, they were in the contrary extreme, and omitted no opportunity of rendering themselves agreeable to him. Nor was it long before their forward vivacious manners, accompanied with a knowledge of many of those gay scenes, which acted forcibly upon Tommy's imagination, began to render their conversation highly agreeable. They talked to him about public diversions, about celebrated actresses, about parties of pleasure, and parties of mischief. Tommy began to feel himself introduced to a new train of ideas, and a wider range of conduct; he began to long for the time when he should share in the glories of robbing orchards, or insulting pa.s.sengers with impunity; but when he heard that little boys, scarcely bigger than himself, had often joined in the glorious project of forming open rebellions against their masters, or of disturbing a whole audience at a playhouse, he panted for the time when he might have a chance of sharing in the fame of such achievements. By degrees he lost all regard for Mr Barlow, and all affection for his friend Harry. At first, indeed, he was shocked at hearing Mr Barlow mentioned with disrespect, but becoming by degrees more callous to every good impression he at last took infinite pleasure in seeing Master Mash (who, though dest.i.tute of either wit or genius, had a great taste for mimicry) take off the _parson_ in the middle of his _sermon_.

Harry perceived and lamented this change in the manners of his friend; he sometimes took the liberty of remonstrating with him upon the subject, but was only answered with a contemptuous sneer; and Master Mash, who happened once to be present, told him that he was a _monstrous bore_.

It happened that, while Harry was at Mr Merton's, there was a troop of strolling players at a neighbouring town. In order to divert the young gentry, Mr Merton contrived that they should make a party to see a play.

They went accordingly, and Harry with the rest. Tommy, who now no longer condescended to take any notice of his friend Harry, was seated between his two new acquaintances, who had become his inseparable companions.

These young gentlemen first began to give specimens of their _politeness_ by throwing nuts and orange-peel upon the stage; and Tommy, who was resolved to profit by such an _excellent_ example, threw nuts and orange-peel with infinite satisfaction.

As soon as the curtain drew up, and the actors appeared, all the rest of the audience observed a decent silence; but Mash and Compton, who were now determined to prove the _superiority_ of their manners, began to talk so loud, and make so much noise, that it was impossible for any one near them to hear a word of the play. This also seemed amazingly _fine_ to Tommy; and he too talked and laughed as loud as the rest.

The subject of their conversation was, the audience and the performers; neither of whom these polite young gentlemen found bearable. The _company_ was chiefly composed of the tradesmen of the town, and the inhabitants of the neighbouring country; this was a sufficient reason for these refined young gentlemen to speak of them with the most insufferable contempt. Every circ.u.mstance of their dress and appearance was criticised with such a minuteness of attention, that Harry, who sat near, and very much against his inclination was witness to all that pa.s.sed, began to imagine that his companions, instead of being brought up like the sons of gentlemen, had only studied under barbers and tailors; such amazing knowledge did they display in the history of buckles, b.u.t.tons, and dressing of hair. As to the poor _performers_, they found them totally undeserving of mercy; they were so shockingly awkward, so ill-dressed, so low-lived, and such detestable creatures, that it was impossible to bear them with any patience.

Master Mash, who prided himself upon being a young gentleman of great spirit, was of opinion that they should _kick up a riot_, and demolish all the scenery. Tommy, indeed, did not very well understand what the expression meant; but he was so intimately persuaded of the merit and genius of his companions, that he agreed that it would be the most proper thing in the world; and the proposal was accordingly made to the rest of the young gentlemen.

But Harry, who had been silent all the time, could not help remonstrating at what appeared to him the greatest injustice and cruelty. "These poor people," said he, "are doing all they can to entertain us; is it not very unkind to treat them in return with scorn and contempt? If they could act better, even as well as those fine people you talk of in London, would they not willingly do it? and therefore, why should we be angry with them for what they cannot help?

And, as to cutting the scenes to pieces, or doing the house any damage, have we any more right to attempt it, than they would have to come into your father's dining-room, and break the dishes to pieces, because they did not like the dinner? While we are here, let us behave with good manners, and, if we do not like their acting, it is our own faults if ever we come to see them again."

This method of reasoning was not much relished by those to whom it was addressed; and it is uncertain how far they might have proceeded, had not a decent, plain-looking man, who had been long disturbed with the noise of these young gentry, at length taken the liberty of expostulating with them upon the subject. This freedom, or _impertinence_, as it was termed by Master Mash, was answered by him with so much rudeness, that the man, who was a neighbouring farmer, was obliged to reply in a higher strain. Thus did the altercation increase every minute, till Master Mash, who thought it an unpardonable affront that any one in an inferior station should presume to think or feel for himself, so far lost all command of his temper as to call the man a _blackguard_, and strike him upon the face. But the farmer, who possessed great strength, and equal resolution, very deliberately laid hold of the young gentleman who had offered him the insult, and, without the smallest exertion, laid him sprawling upon the ground, at his full length under the benches, and setting his feet upon his body, told him that, "since he did not know how to _sit_ quiet at a play, he would have the honour of teaching him to _lie_; and that if he offered to stir, he would trample him to pieces;" a threat which was very evident he could find no difficulty in executing.

This unexpected incident struck a universal damp over the spirits of the little gentry; and even Master Mash himself so far forgot his dignity, as to supplicate in a very submissive manner for a release; in this he was joined by all his companions, and Harry among the rest.

"Well," said the farmer, "I should never have thought that a parcel of young gentlemen, as you call yourselves, would come into public to behave with so much rudeness; I am sure that there is ne'er a ploughboy at my house but what would have shown more sense and manners; but, since you are sorry for what has happened, I am very willing to make an end of the affair; more especially for the sake of this little master here, who has behaved with so much propriety, that I am sure he is a better gentleman than any of you, though he is not dressed so much like a monkey or a barber." With these words he suffered the crestfallen Mash to rise; who crept from his place of confinement, with looks infinitely more expressive of mildness than he had brought with him; nor was the lesson lost upon the others, for they behaved with the greatest decency during the rest of the exhibition.

However, Master Mash's courage began to rise as he went home, and found himself farther from his formidable farmer; for he a.s.sured his companions, "that, if he had not been so vulgar a fellow, he would certainly call him out and pistol him."

The next day at dinner Mr Merton and the ladies, who had not accompanied the young gentlemen to the play, nor had yet heard of the misfortune which had ensued, were very inquisitive about the preceding night's entertainment. The young people agreed that the performers were detestable, but that the play was a charming piece, full of wit and sentiment, and extremely improving. This play was called _The Marriage of Figaro_, and Master Compton had informed them that it was amazingly admired by all the people of fas.h.i.+on in London.

But Mr Merton, who had observed that Harry was totally silent, at length insisted upon knowing his opinion upon the subject, "Why, sir," answered Harry, "I am very little judge of these matters, for I never saw a play before in my life, and therefore I cannot tell whether it was acted well or ill; but as to the play itself, it seemed to me to be full of nothing but cheating and dissimulation; and the people that come in and out do nothing but impose upon each other, and lie, and trick, and deceive.

Were you or any gentlemen to have such a parcel of servants, you would think them fit for nothing in the world; and therefore I could not help wondering, while the play was acting, that people would throw away so much of their time upon sights that can do them no good, and send their children and their relations to learn fraud and insincerity." Mr Merton smiled at the honest bluntness of Harry; but several of the ladies, who had just been expressing an extravagant admiration of this piece, seemed to be not a little mortified; however, as they could not contradict the charges which Harry had brought against it, they thought it most prudent to be silent.

In the evening it was proposed that all the little gentry should divert themselves with cards, and they accordingly sat down to a game which is called Commerce. But Harry, who was totally ignorant of this accomplishment, desired to be excused; however, his friend Miss Simmons offered to teach him the game, which, she a.s.sured him, was so easy, that in three minutes he would be able to play as well as the rest. Harry, however, still continued to refuse; and at last confessed to Miss Simmons, that he had expended all his money the day before, and therefore was unable to furnish the stake which the rest deposited.

"Don't let that disturb you," said she; "I will put down for you with a great deal of pleasure." "Madam," answered Harry, "I am very much obliged to you, I am sure; but Mr Barlow has always forbidden me either to receive or borrow money of anybody, for fear, in the one case, I should become mercenary, or in the other, dishonest; and therefore, though there is n.o.body here whom I esteem more than yourself, I am obliged to refuse your offer." "Well," replied Miss Simmons, "that need not disturb you; for you shall play upon my account, and that you may do without any violation of your principles."

Thus was Harry, though with some reluctance, induced to sit down to cards with the rest. The game, indeed, he found no difficulty in learning; but he could not help remarking, with wonder, the extreme solicitude which appeared in the face of all the players at every change of fortune. Even the young ladies, all but Miss Simmons, seemed to be equally sensible of the pa.s.sion of gaining money with the rest; and some of them behaved with a degree of asperity which quite astonished him.

After several changes of fortune, it happened that Miss Simmons and Harry were the only remaining players; all the rest, by the laws of the game, had forfeited all pretensions to the stake, the property of which was clearly vested in these two, and one more deal was wanting to decide it. But Harry, with great politeness, rose from the table, and told Miss Simmons, that, as he only played upon her account, he was no longer wanted, and that the whole undoubtedly belonged to her. Miss Simmons refused to take it; and when she found that Harry was not to be induced to play any more, she at last proposed to him to divide what was left.

This also Harry declined, alleging that he had not the least t.i.tle to any part. But Miss Simmons, who began to be uneasy at the remarks which this extraordinary contest occasioned, told Harry that he would oblige her by taking his share of the money, and laying it out in any manner for her that he judged best. "On this condition," answered Harry, "I will take it; and I think I know a method of laying it out, which you will not entirely disapprove."

The next day, as soon as breakfast was over, Harry disappeared; nor was he come back when the company were a.s.sembled at dinner. At length he came in, with a glow of health and exercise upon his face, and that disorder of dress which is produced by a long journey. The young ladies eyed him with great contempt, which seemed a little to disconcert him; but Mr Merton speaking to him with great good-humour, and making room for him to sit down, Harry soon recovered from his confusion.

In the evening, after a long conversation among the young people, about public diversions and plays, and actors, and dancers, they happened to mention the name of a celebrated performer, who at this time engaged the whole attention of the town. Master Compton, after expatiating with great enthusiasm upon the subject, added, "that nothing was so fas.h.i.+onable as to make great presents to this person, in order to show the taste and elegance of the giver." He then proposed that, as so many young gentlemen and ladies were here a.s.sembled, they should set an example, which would do them infinite honour, and probably be followed throughout the kingdom, of making a little collection among themselves to buy a piece of plate, or a gold snuff-box, or some other trifle, to be presented in their name. He added, "that though he could ill-spare the money (having just laid out six guineas upon a new pair of buckles), he would contribute a guinea to so excellent a purpose, and that Masters Mash and Merton would do the same."

This proposal was universally approved of by all the company, and all but Harry promised to contribute in proportion to their finances. This Master Mash observing, said, "Well, farmer, and what will you subscribe?" Harry answered, "that on this occasion he must beg to be excused, for he had nothing to give." "Here is a pretty fellow!"

answered Mash; "last night we saw him pocket thirty s.h.i.+llings of our money, which he cheated us out of at Commerce, and now the little stingy wretch will not contribute half-a-crown, while we are giving away whole guineas." Upon this Miss Matilda said, in an ironical manner, "that Master Harry had always an excellent reason to give for his conduct; and she did not doubt but he could prove to the satisfaction of them all, that it was more liberal to keep his money in his pocket than to give it away."

Harry, who was a little nettled at these reflections, answered, "that though he was not bound to give any reason, he thought he had a very good one to give; and that was, that he saw no generosity in thus bestowing money. According to your own account," added he, "the person you have been talking of gains more than fifty poor families in the country have to maintain themselves; and therefore, if I had any money to give away, I should certainly give it to those that want it most."

With these words Harry went out of the room, and the rest of the gentry, after abusing him very liberally, sat down to cards. But Miss Simmons, who imagined that there was more in Harry's conduct than he had explained, excused herself from cards, and took an opportunity of talking to him upon the subject. After speaking to him with great good-nature, she asked him, whether it might not have been better to have contributed something along with the rest, than to have offended them by so free an exposition of his sentiments, even though he did not approve of the scheme. "Indeed, madam," said Harry, "this is what I would gladly have done, but it was totally out of my power." "How can that be, Harry? did you not the other night win nearly thirty s.h.i.+llings?" "That, madam, all belonged to you; and I have already disposed of it in your name, in a manner that I hope you will not disapprove." "How is that?" inquired the young lady with some surprise.

"Madam," said Harry, "there was a young woman who lived with my father as a servant, and always behaved with the greatest honesty and carefulness. This young woman had an aged father and mother, who for a great while were able to maintain themselves by their labour; but at last the poor old man became too weak to do a day's work, and his wife was afflicted with a disease they call the palsy. Now, when this good young woman saw that her parents were in such great distress, she left her place and went to live with them, on purpose to take care of them; and she works very hard, whenever she can get work, and fares very hard in order to maintain her parents; and though we a.s.sist them all we can, I know that sometimes they can hardly get food and clothes; therefore, madam, as you were so kind to say I should dispose of this money for you, I ran over this morning to these poor people, and gave them all the money in your name, and I hope you will not be displeased at the use I have put it to." "Indeed," answered the young lady, "I am much obliged to you for the good opinion you have of me, and the application of it does me a great deal of honour; I am only sorry you did not give it in your own name." "That," replied Harry, "I had not any right to do; it would have been attributing to myself what did not belong to me, and equally inconsistent with truth and honesty."