 Book I. CHAPTER IX. THE HISTORY OF POMPEI THE LITTLE. THE HISTORY OF POMPEI THE LITTLE, OR THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF A LAP DOG, BY FRANCIS COVENTRY. BOOK I. CHAPTER IX. WHAT THE READER WILL KNOW IF HE READS IT? The father of this little brood, who are now in possession of our hero, was Captain Vincent of the Guards, a gentleman whose character will cost us no long description. Captain Vincent of the Guards was an exceedingly handsome man, about thirty years old, tall and well proportioned in his limbs, but so entirely devoted to the contemplation of his own pretty person that he never detached his thoughts one moment from the consideration of it. Conscious of being a favorite of the ladies, among whom he was received always with eyes of affection, he thought the charms of his figure irresistible wherever he came, and seemed to show himself in all public places as an object of public admiration. You saw forever in his looks a smile of assurance, complacency, and self-applause. He appeared always to be wondering at his own accomplishments, and especially when he made a survey now and then of his dress and limbs. T'was as much to say to his company, gentlemen and ladies, look on me if you can without admiration. The reputation of two or three affairs, which same had given him with women of fashion, still contributed to increase his vanity, and authorized him, as he thought, to bestow more time and pains on the beautifying and adoring so successful a figure. In short, after many real or pretended amours, which made him in sufferably vain, he married at last a celebrated town beauty, a woman of quality, who was in all respects equal to and worthy of such a husband. Lady Betty Vincent, the wife of this gentleman, was one of those haughty nymphs of quality, who presumed so much on the merit of a title that they never trouble themselves to acquire any other. She was proud, expensive, insolent, and unmanorly to her inferiors, vain of her rank, and still vainer of her person, full of extravagant heirs, and though exceedingly silly, conceited of an imaginary wit and smartness. As she set out in life with a full persuasion, that her prodigious beauty, merit, and accomplishments must soon procure her the title of her grace, she rejected several advantageous matches that offered, because they did not in all points come up to the height of her ambition. At length, finding her charms begin to decay, in a fit of lust, disappointed pride, in opposition to her mother, with whom she had then a quarrel, she patched up a marriage with Captain Vincent of the Guards, contrary to the advice and remonstrances of all her friends and relations. As the captain had no revenue besides the income of his commission, and her ladyship's fortune did not exceed seven thousand pounds, it may be concluded, when the honeymoon of love was over, this agreeable couple did not find the matrimonial fetters sit perfectly easy upon them. To retrench in any article they found it impossible. To retire into the country still more impossible. That was horrors, death, and despair. Her ladyship could not hear of such a thing with patience. She was ready to swoon at the mention of it, and indeed the captain, who was equally attached to London, never made the proposal in earnest. What then could they do in these embarrassing circumstances? Why? They took a little house in Hedge Lane, near the bottom of the hay market, which being in the centre of public diversions, served to keep them a little in countenance, and there they supported their spirits as well as they could, with reflecting that they still lived in the world, though their apartments were not so commodious as they could wish. Fettered pride is sure to turn into peevishness, and spleen is the daughter of mortified vanity. Finding themselves cramped with want, they grew uneasy, discontented, jealous of each other's extravagance, and were scarce ever alone, without reproaching one another on the article of expense. The lady pouted at the captain for going to Whites, and the captain recriminated on his wife for playing at Bragg, and then followed a long contention which of them spent the most money. To complete their misfortunes, her ladyship took to Breeding, which introduced a thousand new expenses, and they must absolutely have starved in the midst of pride and vanity. Had they not been seasonably relieved now and then by some handsome presence from Lady Betty's mother, my old lady Herodon, who was still alive and in the possession of a considerable jointure, the devotion which the captain paid to his beautiful figure has already been described, nor was her ladyship one jot behind him in idolizing and adoring her own charms. She prided herself in a more particular manner on the lovely bloom and charming delicacy of her complexion, which had procured her the envy of one sex and the admiration of the other, though perhaps if her enviers and admirers had known the following little story both these passions would have considerably abated in them. It was our hero's custom, whenever he came into a new family, to gratify his curiosity as soon as possible with a general survey of the house. On his arrival here, his little owners were so fond of him the first day that they lugged him about in their arms and never permitted him to stray one moment out of their sights. But being left more at his own liberty the next morning, he thought it was then a convenient time for making his tour. After examining all the rooms above ground, he descended intrepidly into the kitchen and began to look about sharp for breakfast. Or to say the truth, he had hitherto met with very thin commons in his new apartments. At last a blue and white dish, which stood on the dresser, presented itself to his eye. This immediately he determined to be lawful prey, and perceiving nobody present to interrupt him, he boldly made a spring at it. But happening unluckily to leap against the dish, down it came and its contents ran about the kitchen. There said this happened, when my ladies' maid appeared below stairs, and began to scream out in a very shrill accent, Why, who has done this now? I'll be whipped if this audacious little dog has not been, and thrown down my ladies' backside's breakfast, after which she fell very severely on the cook, who now entered the kitchen, and began to reprimand her in a very authoritative tone for not taking more care of her dressers. But let the Pothicary add at she, come and mix up his nastiness himself, and he will, produce fetch me if I'll wait on her ladies' ships backside in this manner. If she will have her clisters, let the clister-pipe doctor come, and minister them himself, and not put me to her filthy offices. O Lord bless us, well, rather than be at all this pains for a complexion, I'd be as brown as a berry all my lifetime. The finest flowers, I have heard say, are raised from dung, and perhaps it may be so. I am sure to sow at our house, for my lady takes physics twice a week, and treats her backside with the clister once a fortnight, and all this to preserve a complexion. While the waiting gentlewoman was haranguing thus at the expense of her mistress, the captain's valet also came into the kitchen, and hearing his fellow-servant very loud and vociferous, inquired what was the matter. Matter, cry she, matter enough of conscious, don't you see there, that plaggy little devil of a dog, has been and flung down my lady's backside's breakfast? Bless us, a prodigious disaster indeed, replied the valet. Why, what shall we do now, Mrs. Minkin? I'm afraid your lady's complexion will want its bloom to-day. Hang her complexion, said Abigail. I wish her complexion was at the bottom of her own closed stool. She need be so generous to her backside indeed, I am sure she is not so over and above generous to her servants and her trades-folks. True cries the valet, if she would treat us with a breakfast now and then, as well as her backside, me thinks it would not be a miss, for deuce take me, if I ever saw such housekeeping in any family that ever I lived in, in my days. They dressed plaggy fine, both of them, and cut a figure abroad, while their servants are starving at home. Yes, yes, said Mrs. Minkin, does all show in no substance at our house. There's your pretty master, the captain, has been smugging up his pretty face and cleaning his teeth for this hour before the looking-glass this morning. I wonder he does not clister for a complexion, too. Though, thank heaven, he's cox-comb enough already, and wants no addition to his pride. He seems to think that no woman can look him in the face without falling in love with him, with his black solitaire, and his white teeth, and his frizzled hair, and his floppies. Oh, Lord, have mercy upon us. Well, every one to their liking. But hang me, if I would not marry a monkey, as soon as such a powdered skeramuch, were I a woman of quality. Get out, you little nasty devil of a dog. Hang me, if I won't brain you, and let the little vixens, your mistresses, say what they please. Having said this, she set out full of rage in pursuit of poor Pompey, who took to his feet with great precipitation and fled for his life. But not being nimble enough, he was overtaken, and smarted severely for the trespass he had committed. To say the truth, he soon began to find himself very unhappily situated in this family. For wretched are all those animals that become the favorites of children. At first, indeed, he suffered only the barbarity of their kindness, and was persecuted with no other cruelties than what arose from their extravagant love of him. But when the date of his favor began to expire, and it did not continue long, he was then taught to feel how much severer their hate could be than their fondness. He had indeed, from the first, two or three dreadful presages of what might happen to him. For he had seen with his own eyes the two kittens, his play-fellows, drowned for some misdemeanor that they had been guilty of, and the magpies had chopped off with the greatest passion for daring to peck a piece of plum-cake that lay in the window without permission. Which instances of cruelty were sufficient to warn him, if he had had any foresight, of what might afterwards happen to him. But he was not let long to entertain himself with conjectures before he felt in person, and in reality the mischievous disposition of these little tyrants. Sometimes they took it into their heads that he was full of fleas, and then he was soused in a tub of water till he was almost dead, in order to kill the vermin that inhabited the hair of his body. At other times he was set on his hindered legs with a book before his eyes, and ordered to read his lesson, which, not being able to perform, they whipped him till he howled, and then chastised him the more for daring to be sensible of pain. Much of this treatment did he undergo, often wishing himself restored to the arms of Lady Tempest, when fortune, taking pity of his calamities, once more resolved to change his lodgings, and deliver him from this house of inquisition. CHAPTER IX THE HISTORY OF POMPEY THE LITTLE or THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF A LAP DOG by Francis Coventry BOOK I CHAPTER X A MATROMONIAL DISPUTE Lady Betty Vincent had a mother still living as we are hinted in the preceding chapter, who, having worn out her life in vanity, cards, and all sorts of luxury, was now turned Methodist at seventy, and thought by presenting heaven with the dregs of her age, to atone for all the riot and lasciviousness of her youth. For this purpose, she had renounced all public diversions, put herself under the tuition of the two great field-preaching apostles, and was become one of the warmest votaries of that prevailing sect. But besides the self-mortification she was pleased to undergo, her ladyship had likewise an additional stratagem to procure her pardon above, which she thought impossible to fail her. And this was to take her eldest granddaughter out of the temptations of a wicked seducing age into her own family, and breed her up a Methodist, the merit of which laudable action she hoped would compensate all her own miscarriages and effectually restore her to the divine favour. Having thus laid the scheme of compounding matters with heaven and making the virtues of the granddaughter balance, as it were, and set off the sins of the grandmother, she now thought only of putting in an execution. In the first place she communicated her design to the two apostles, and the moment she was assured of their approbation she dispatched a message to her daughter, desiring an hour's conversation with her the first time she was at leisure. Lady Betty, who had great dependence on her mother, did not fail to answer the summons, and was with her very early the next morning. So very early that the clock had but just struck one, which she said was an instance of her uncommon filial obedience. It may be imagined the two ladies soon came to agreement. Lady Betty, being as glad to get rid of a charge, has Lady Harrodon to acquire a companion, which she represented as the motive that induced her to take her granddaughter into her family. After being thus settled, Lady Betty returned home to dinner, where she observed a silent silence till the cloth was removed and the servants were carrying away the last things. Then it was that she pleased to open her mouth, and bade one of the footmen, tell Menakin to get Sally's clothes and linen packed up against the evening. There happened at this time to be a myth subsisting between her ladyship and the captain, and they had gloated at one another for several days without exchanging a word. She did not therefore vouch safe to ask her husband's consent in the step she was taking, nor even to inform him of it in direct terms, but left him to extract it as well as he could from this oblique message which she sent to her maid. The captain, who saw plainly that some mystery was contained under these orders, had at first a mind to be revenged by affecting not to hear them, but curiosity prevailing over his resentment. He submitted at length to ask whether his daughter was going. Why, if you will spend all your life at White's, and lose all your money in play, replied the lady with an air of disdain, I must dispose of my children as well as I can, I think. But what connection is there in the name of God? said the captain, between my playing at White's and your packing up your daughter's clothes. Unless perhaps you are going to send your daughter to the Foundling Hospital. Yes, perhaps I am, cries she with a toss of her head. If one can't maintain one's children at home, they must even come upon the parish, and there's an end of it. Still the captain remained unenlightened. Not a ray of information transpired through these dark speeches, and indeed there seemed to be no likelihood of a claricessment, for in this manner they continued to play at cross purposes with one another for several minutes. At last, his patience being utterly exhausted, he insisted very earnestly, and somewhat angrily, to know what was going to be done with his daughter. Why, mamma has a mind to take the girl to live with her, if you must know, replied her ladyship, and that is going to be done with your daughter. If you will get children without being able to maintain them, you may be thankful, me thinks, to find there is somebody in the world that will take them off your hands. Oh, madam, cries the captain. As to the article of begetting children, I apprehend your ladyship to be full as guilty as I am, and therefore that is out of the question. But as to your mamma's taking them off our hands, devil take me if I am not exceedingly obliged to her for it. Your mamma is welcome to take them all, if she pleases. I only wanted to know what was going to be done with the girl, and now I am most perfectly satisfied. Which he uttered with the most taunting pronunciation in the world. There is nothing so exceedingly provoking as a sneer to people enraged and inflamed with pride. The captain perceived the effect it had, and resolving to pursue his triumph. My dear, added he, to be sure the prudent care you are taking to provide for your children is highly commendable, but I am afraid your mamma will debauch the girl with religion. She'll teach her perhaps to whine and can't, and say her prayers under the godly Mr. Whitefield. Lady Betty had never in her life shown the least regard for her mother. She had married in direct opposition to her will, and partly out of revenge because she happened at the time to have a quarrel with her, and knew her disinclination to the match. But now so much was she galled with the captain's railery, that she gladly seized on any thing which offered as a handle of reproach. With rage therefore sparkling in her eyes and indignation glowing all over her face she cried out, how dare you ridicule my mamma! If mamma has a mind to be an old doting idiot and change her religion, does it become you of all people to reproach her with it? You have the greatest obligations to her, sir, and you may be ashamed to give yourself such heirs. You ridicule my mamma! You of all people in the world! It would have been well for me, I am sure, if I had taken mamma's advice and never had you, for you know you brought nothing but your little beggarly commission, and what is the income of a little beggarly commission? Tis not sufficient to furnish one's pen-cushion with pens! And who pray was you when I had you? You know you is no blood or family, and yet you pretend to ridicule my mamma! You of all people, you! If it was not for mamma now, you would starve, you and all your brats would starve with want! When a dispute is grown to the highest, especially if it be a matrimonial one, all sober argument and cool reply are nothing better than words spoken against the wind. The judicious captain therefore, instead of answering this invective of his spouse, very wisely in my opinion, fell a singing, which so exasperated the fair lady, and so utterly overset her patience, that she started from her chair, swept down two or three bottles and glasses with her hoop-pedi-coat, flounced out of the room, and rushed upstairs ready to burst with spite and indignation. All the while this dispute was passing the parlor, our hero was the subject of as fierce a one among his little owners, or rather tormenters, in another room. For as the eldest girl was going into a different family, it was necessary they should make a separation of their play-things, and our hero being incapable of division, unless they had carved him out into shares, a warm debate arose concerning him, both sides obstinately refusing to waive their pretensions. This perhaps may seem a little wonderful to the reader, who has been informed that they were all long ago grown tired of him, but let him consider the tempers of this little family begotten in spleen, peevishness and pride, and I believe he will not think it unnatural, after the recent example he has seen of their parents, that a spirit of opposition should make them content with the greatest vehemence for a matter of the most absolute indifference to them. This was in reality the cause of their contention, and they would soon have gone together by the ears had not their mamma appeared to decide the question in favor of her eldest girl, whose claim, she said, was indisputable, from the circumstance of her finding him in the park. Lady Betty was hardly yet recovered from her passions, but being now told that Lady Herodin's coach was waiting for her at the door, she composed her face as well as she could, and mounted into it, attended by her daughter and the hero of this history. End of Chapter 10 Recording by Patty Cunningham Book 1, Chapter 11 of the History of Pompey the Little. This is a LibriVox recording, while LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Patty Cunningham. The History of Pompey the Little, or The Life and Adventures of a Lap Dog, by Frances Coventry. Book 1, Chapter 11, A Stroke at the Methodist They arrived at Lady Herodin's about seven o'clock in the evening, and were immediately conducted upstairs to her lady's dining-room, where they found a large company of women assembled. On the first side of so many ladies, I believe our hero concluded, he was got into some route or drum, such as he had often seen at Lady Tempest's. Yet on the other hand he knew not well how to reconcile many appearances with such a supposition. He saw no cards, he heard no laughing. The solemn faces of the servants who now and then appeared, the sober looks of the company, every thing seemed to inform him that pleasure never could be the cause of this assembly. It was indeed a sisterhood of the godly met together to bewail the vanities of human life, and congratulate one another on their common good luck in breaking away from the enchantments of a sinful world. The causes, which had converted them to Methodism, were almost as various as the several characters of the converts. Some, the ill success of their charms, had driven to despair. Others, a consciousness of too great success, had touched with repentance, and both these terminated in superstitious melancholy. Disappointed love and criminal amour, though opposite in nature, here wrought the same effects. Thunder and lightning, yellowman dreams, earthquakes, vapors, smallpox, all had their converts in this religious collection. But far the most part of them, like the noble president, were women fatigued and worn out in the vanities of life. The battered and superannuated jades of pleasure, who being grown sick of themselves and weary of the world, were now fled to Methodism merely as the newest sort of folly that had lately been invented. The appearance of Lady Betty in such a company as this, was like a wasps invading a nest of drones. She was too spirited, too much dressed, too worldly to be agreeable to them, and they in return gave his little pleasure to her. In short, she very soon found herself out of her element, and after sitting a few minutes only, rose up and began to make her departing curtsies. Why, sure, you are not going, Lady Betty, cried the mother. I presumed upon your staying the evening with us. No, thank you, replied the daughter. Another time, if you please, mamma. But you seem to be all too religious abundantly for me at present. I can't afford to say my prayers above once a week, mamma, and tis not Sunday to-day, according to my calculation. For shame! For shame, my dear! Don't indulge such levity of discourse, said Lady Herodin. Let me prevail on you to stay, Lady Betty, and I am sure we shall make a convert of you. There is that tranquillity, my dear, that composure, that serenity of mind attending Methodism, that I am sure no person who judges fairly can refuse to embrace it. Pleasure, my dear, is all vanity and folly, an unquiet, empty, transient delusion. Believe me, child, I have experienced it. I have proved the vanity of it. And depend upon it. Sooner or later you will come to the same way of thinking. Very likely I may, replied Lady Betty. But you'll give me leave to grow a little wicketer first, won't you, mamma? I have not sins enough at present. I am not quite wicked enough as yet to turn Methodist. Fie! Fie! Don't encourage that licentiousness of conversation, cries the old lady. You shock me, my dear, beyond measure. You make my blood run cold again, to hear you. But let me beseech you to stay, and you'll have the pleasure of hearing the dear Whitefield talk on this subject. We expect him every minute. Do you, says Lady Betty, then upon my honour I'll hide me away this moment, for I'll promise you, mamma, I have not the least desire or curiosity to hear the dear Whitefield. And so your servant, ladies, your servant. Having said this, she brushed downstairs and left the company astonished at her profaneness. As Lady Betty went out, the dear Whitefield and his brother Apostle entered, who were the only people wanting to complete this religious collection. On their appearance the mysteries began, and they all fell to lamenting the wickedness of their former lives. The great guilt of loving cards, the exceeding sinfulness of having been fond of dancing in their youthful days, were enumerated as sins of the most atrocious quality. Whilst other crimes, of a nature perhaps not inferior to these, were very prudently kept out of sight. Then Mr. Whitefield began to preach the history of his life, and related the many combats and desperate encounter he has had with the devil. How Satan confined him to his chamber once at college, and permitted him not to eat for several days together, with ten thousand other malicious pranks played by the Prince of Darkness on the body of that unfortunate adventurer, if we may believe his own journals. He proceeded in the next place to describe the many miracles which heaven has wrought in his favour. How it ceased to reign once. And the sun broke out on a sudden, just as he was beginning to preach on the Kennington Common, with a million more Equal East Appendice prodigies which show how great an interest heaven takes in all the actions of that religious mountabank. When the company had enjoyed enough of the scriptural and suspicious conversation, they proceeded in the last place to singing of Psalms, and this concluded the superstition of the evening. All the former part of the time are heroes set very composed and quietly before the fire. But when they began to chant their hymns, surprised and astonished with the novelty of this proceeding, he fell to howling with the most sonorous accent, and in a key much higher than any of the screaming sisters. Nor was this all, for presently afterwards Mr. Whitefield attempting to stroke him, he snarled and bit his finger, which being the self-same indignity that Lucy unformerly offered to the hand of a similar impostor, we thought it not beneath the dignity of this history to relate it. To say the truth, I believe he had taken some disgust to that exceeding pious gentleman. For besides these two instances of ill behaviour, he was guilty of a much greater rudeness the next day to his works. Lady Herodon, as soon as she arose the next morning, sent for her little granddaughter immediately into her close, and made her repeat some long methodistical prayers, after which she heard her read several pages out of the Apostle's journal, and then they went to breakfast, but by mistake left poor Pompey shut up in the closet. The little prisoner scratched very impatiently to be released, and made various attempts to open the door. But not having the good fortune to succeed, he leapt upon the table and wantonly did his occasions upon the field preacher's memoirs, which lay open upon it. Whether this was done to express his contempt of the book, or merely from an incapacity of suppressing his needs, is hardly possible for us to determine. Though we are sensible how much it would exalt him in the reader's esteem to ascribe it to the former motive, and indeed it must be confessed that his choosing to drop his superfluities on so particular a spot may very well countenance such a suspicion. But unless we had the talents of Asip to interpret the sentiments of Brutes, it will forever be impossible to come at the truth of this important affair. However that be, Lady Herodin unfortunately returned to her close soon afterwards, and saw the crime he had been guilty of. Rage and indignation sparkled in her eyes. She rang her bell instantly with the greatest fury, and on the appearance of a footman ordered him immediately to be hanged. His young mistress, whose love for him had long since cooled, and who besides feared her great grandmama's resentment, did not think proper to oppose the sentence. He was had away therefore that moment to execution, which I dare say, courteous reader, thou art extremely glad to hear, as it would put a period to his history and prevent thee from misspending any more of thy precious time. But alas, thy hopes are in vain. Thy labours are not yet at an end. The footman, who happened to have some few grains of compassion in its nature, instead of obeying his lady's orders, sold him that day for a pint of porter to an alehousekeeper's daughter in Tibern Road. Here, then, gentle friend, if thou art tired, let me advise thee to desist and fall asleep, or if perchance thy spirits are fresh, and thou dost not yet begin to yawn, proceed on courageously, and thou wilt in good time arrive at the end of thy journey. CHAPTER XII. THE HISTORY OF A MODESHA POMPEY WAS SOLD, AS WE HAVE JUST OBSERVED, TO AN ALE HOUSEKEAPER'S DAUGHTER FOR THE VALUBLE CONSIDERATION OF A PINE OF PORTER. THIS AMIBLE YOUNG LADY WAS THEN ON THE POINT OF MARRIGED WITH A HACKNEY COACHMAN, AND SOON AFTERWARDS THE NUPSUALS WERE CONSOMATED TO THE GREAT JOY OF THE TWO ANCIENT FAMILIES, WHO WERE BY THIS MEANS SURE OF NOT BEING EXTINKED. As soon as the ceremony was over at the fleet, the new-married couple set out to celebrate their wedding at the old Blue Boar in the Tibern Road, and the bride was conducted home at night, dead drunk, to her new apartments in a garret in Smithfield. This fashionable pair had scarce been married three days before they began to quarrel on a very fashionable subject. For the civil, well-bred husband coming home one night from his station and expecting the cow-heels to have been ready for his supper, found his lodgings empty, and his darling spouse abroad. At about eleven o'clock she came flouncing into the room, and telling him, with great gaiety decor, that she had been at the play, began to describe the several scenes of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. Judge if this was not provocation too great for a Hackney Coachman's temper. He fell to exercising his whip in a most outrageous manner, and she, applying herself no less readily to more desperate weapons, a most bloody fray ensued between them, in which the Coachman had liked to have been stabbed with a pin-knife, and his fair spouse was obliged to keep her bed near a month with the bruises she received in this horrid recounter. Pompey now most sensibly felt the ill effects of his former luxury, which served only to aggravate the miseries of his present condition. The coarse fair he met with in ruthless garrets or cellars underground, were but indelicate morsels to one who had formerly lived on ragus and fricassees, and he found it very difficult to sleep on hard and naked floors, who had been used to have his limbs cushioned up on sofas and couches. But luckily for him, his favour with his mistress procured him the hatred of his master, who sold him a second time to a nymph of Billingsgate for a penny-worth of oysters. His situation indeed was not mended for the present by this means, but it put him in a way to be released the sooner, from a course of life so ill-suited to his constitution or his temper. For this delicate fisherwoman, as she went her rounds, carried him one evening to a certain coffee-house near the temple, where the lady behind the bar was immediately struck with his beauty, and with no great difficulty prevailed on the gentle water-nymph to surrender him for a dram of brandy. His fortunes now began to wear a little better aspect, and he spent his time here agreeably enough in listening to the conversations and disputes that arose in the coffee-room among people of all denominations. For here assembled wits, critics, Templars, politicians, poets, country squires, grave tradesmen, and sapient physicians. The little consas-stories of wits claimed his first attention, being a dog of a natural turn for humor, and he took a pleasure to hear young Templars criticize the works of Shakespeare, call Mr. Garrick to account every evening for his action, extol the beauty of actresses, and the reputation of whores. When he was tired of the clubs of humor, he would be take himself to another table, and listen to a junto of politicians who used to assemble here in an evening with the most public-spirited views, namely to settle the affairs of the nation and point out the errors of the ministry. Here he has heard the government arraigned in the most abusive manner for what the government never performed or thought of, and the lowest dribbledry of a dirty newspaper cried up as the highest touches of attic irony. He has heard sea-fights condemned by people who never saw the sea even through a telescope, and the general of an army called to account for his disposition of a battle by men whose knowledge of war never reached beyond a cock-match. A curious conversation of this kind passed one day in his hearing, which I shall beg leave to relate as a little specimen of coffee-house oratory. It happened at the end of the late rebellion, and the chief orator of the club began as usual with asserting that the rebellion was promoted by the ministry for some private ends of their own. What was the reason, said he, of its being disbelieved so long? Why was our army absent at such a critical juncture? I should be glad to hear any man answer me these questions. They may think perhaps they are acting all this while in secret, and applaud themselves for their cunning. But I believe I know more than they would wish me to know. Thank God I can see a little, if I pleased to open my eyes. Soon, old Walpole is behind the curtain still, not withstanding his resignation, and the old game is playing over again whatever they may pretend. There was a correspondence between Walpole and Flurry, to my knowledge, and they projected between them all the evils that have since happened to the nation. The company all seemed to agree with this eloquent gentleman's sentiments, and one of them ventured to say he believed the army was sent into Flanders on purpose to be out of the way at the time of the insurrection. Zones, said the orator, I believe you are in the right, and the wind blew them over against their inclinations. Pox, what made whatia column's army disperse as it did? Let anybody answer me that if they are able. Don't you think they had orders from above to run away? By God I do if you don't, and I believe I could prove it too if I was to set about it. Besides, if they have any desire of preventing future invasions from France, why don't they send out and burn all their shipping? Why don't they send out Verne with a strong fleet, and let him burn all their shipping? I warrant him, if he had a proper commission in his pocket, he would not leave a harbor or a ship in France. But they know they don't dare do it for fear of discoveries. They are in league with the French Ministry. Or else, damn! Can anything be so easy as to take and burn all of the shipping in France? A gentleman who had hitherto set silent at the table, replied with a sneer on his countenance. No, sir, nothing in the world could be so easy except talking about it. This drew the eyes of the company upon him, and everyone began to wink at his neighbor when the orator resumed the discourse in the following manner. Talk, sir? No faith we are come to that past that we don't dare talk nowadays. Things are come to such a past that we don't dare open our mouths. Sir, said the gentleman, I think you have been talking already with great licentiousness. And let me add, too, with great indecency on a very serious subject. Zone, sir, said the orator. May not I have the liberty of speaking my mind freely upon any subject that I please? Why, we don't live in France, sir. You forget, surely. This is England. This is honest old England, sir. Not a Muhammadan Empire. Though God knows how long we shall continue so in the way we are going on. And yet, forsooth, we must not talk. Our mouths are to be sewed up as well as our purses taken from us. Here we are paying four shillings in the pound, and yet we must not speak our minds freely. Sir, said the gentleman, undoubtedly you may speak your mind freely. But the laws of your country oblige you not to speak treason. And the laws of good manner should dispose you to speak with decency and respect of your governors. You say, sir, we are come to that past that we dare not talk. I protest, that is very extraordinary. And if I was called upon to answer this declaration, I would rather say we are come to that past nowadays, that we talk with more virulence and ill-language than ever. We talk upon subjects, which it is impossible we should understand, and advance assertions, which we know to be false. Bold affirmations against the government are believed merely from a dint of assurance in which they are spoken, and the idolist jargon often passes for the soundest reasoning. Give me leave to say, you, sir, are a living example of the lenity of that government which you are abusing for want of lenity, and your own practice in the strongest manner confutes your assertions. But I beg we may call another subject. Here the orator, having nothing more to reply, was resolved to retire from a place where he could no longer make a figure. Wherefore, flinging down his reckoning and putting on his hat with great vehemence, he walked away muttering surly to himself. Things are come to a fine past, truly, if people may not have the liberty of talking. The rest of the company separated soon afterwards. All of them harboring no very favourable opinion of the gentleman who had taken the courage to stand up in defence of the government. Some imagined he was a spy. Others concluded he was a writer of the gazettes, and the most part were contented with only thinking him a fool. This angry orator was no sooner got home to his family and seated in his elbow-chair at supper than he began to give vent to the indignation he had been collecting. Sound said he, I have been called to account for my words to-night. I have been told by a jack-and-napes at the coffee-house that I must not say what I please against the government. Talk with decency, indeed. A fart of decency. Let them act with decency if they have a mind to stop people's mouths. Talk with decency. Damn them all. I'll talk what I please, and no king or minister on earth shall control me. Let them behead me if they have a mind as they did Balmarano and the other fellow, that died like a coward. Must I be cataclyzed by a little sycophant that kisses the apple minister? What is an Englishman that dares not utter his sentiments freely? Talk with decency. I wish I had kicked the rascal out of the coffee-house, and I will if I ever meet him again down—we are come to a fine pass if every little pradding, pragmatical jack-and-apes is to contradict a true-born Englishman. While his wife and daughters set trembling at the vehemence of his speeches, yet not daring to speak for fear of drawing his rage on themselves, he began to curse them for their silence, and addressing himself to his wife. Why does not speak, cries he? What, I suppose, I shall have you telling me by and by too that I must talk with decency. My dear, said the wife with great humility, I know nothing at all of the matter. No, cries he, I believe not, but you might know to dress a supper, though, and be damned to you. Here's nothing I can eat, according to custom. Pox! a man may starve with such a wife at the head of his family. When the cloth was removed and he was preparing to fill his pipe, unfortunately he could not find his tobacco-stopper, which again set his collar at work. Go upstairs, Maul, he said to one of his daughters, and feel in my old britch's pocket. Damn! I believe that scoundrel at the coffee-house has robbed me with his decency. Why does not stir, girl? What, has got the cramp in thy toes? Why, papa, said the girl flippantly, I'm going as fast as I can, upon which immediately he threw a bottle at her head, and proceeding from invectives to blows, he beat his wife, kicked his daughters, swore at his servants, and after all this went reeling up to bed with curses in his mouth against the tyranny of government. Nothing can be more common than examples in this way of people who preside over their families with the most arbitrary brutal severity, and yet are ready on all occasions to abuse the government for the smallest exertion of its power. To say the truth, I scarce know a man who is not a tyrant in miniature over the circle of his own dependents, and I have observed those in particular to exercise the greatest lordship over their inferiors, who are most forward to complain of oppression from their superiors. Happy is it for the world that this coffee-house statesman was not born a king, for one may very justly apply to him the line of Marshall. Hi, me, si fueres tu leo, cuelaceres. End of Chapter 12, Recording by Patty Cunningham Book 1, Chapter 13 of the History of Pompey the Little This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Eugene Smith The History of Pompey the Little or The Life and Adventures of a Lap Dog by Francis Coventry Book 1, Chapter 13 A Description of Counselor Tanturian But among the many people who frequented this coffee-house, Pompey was delighted with nobody more than with the person of Counselor Tanturian, who used to crawl out once a week to read all the public papers from Monday to Monday at the moderate price of a penny, his dress and character who were both so extraordinary as will excuse a short digression upon them. He set out originally with a very humble fortune at the temple, not without hopes, however, of arriving, sometime or other, at the Chancellor's seat. But, having tried his abilities once or twice at the bar, too little purpose, nature soon whispered in his ear that he was never designed for an orator. He attended the judges, indeed, after this, through two or three circuits, but finding his gains by no means equivalent to his expenses, he thought at most prudent to decline the noisy forum, and content himself with giving advice to clients in a chamber. Either his talents here also were deficient, or same had not sufficiently and divulged his merit, but his chamber was seldom disturbed with visitors, and he had few occasions to envy the tranquility of a country life, according to the lawyer and Horace, agriculom, laudat, juris lugumque peritus, slub gali cantum, consalatuer ubi ostia pulsat. His temper grew soured and unsocial by miscarriages, and the narrowness of his fortune obliging him to a strict frugality, he soon degenerated into avarice. The rust of money is very apt to infect the soul, and people whose circumstances condemn them to economy, in time, grow misers from their very habit. This was the case with Counselor Tanturian, who having quite discarded the relish of pleasure, and finding his little pittance, by that means more than adequate to his expenses, resolved to apply the over-plus to the laudable purposes of usuring. This noble occupation he had followed a long time, and by it accumulated a sum of ten thousand pounds, which his heart would not suffer him to enjoy, though he had neither relation nor friend to leave it to at his death. He lived almost constantly alone in a dirty chamber, denying himself every comfort of life, and half starved for wanted sustenance. Neither love nor ambition nor joy disturbed his repose. His passions all centered in money, and he was a kind of savage within doors. The furniture of his person was not less curious than his character. At home, indeed, he wore nothing but a greasy flannel cap about his head, and a dingy nightgown about his body. But when he went abroad he arrayed himself in a suit of black, a full twenty years standing, and very like in color to what is worn by undertakers at a funeral. His parook, which had once adorned the head of a judge in the reign of Queen Anne, spread copiously over his back and down his shoulders. By his side hung an agent sword, long rusted in its scabbard, and his black silk stockings had been so often darned with a different material that, like Sir John Cutler's, they were not metamorphosed into black, worsted stockings. Such was Councillor Tanturian, who once a week came to read the newspapers at the coffee-house where Pompey lived. A dog of any talents for humor could not help being diverted with his appearance, and our hero found great pleasure in playing him tricks, in which he was secretly encouraged by every body in the coffee-room. At first, indeed, he never saw him without barking at him, as at a monster just dropped out of the moon. But when time had a little reconciled him to his figure, he entertained the company every time he came with some new prank at the Councillor's expense. Once he ran away with his spectacles. At another time he laid violent teeth on his shirt, which hung out of his britches, and shook it to the great diversion of all the holders. But what occasioned more laughter than anything was a trick that follows. Tanturian had been tempted one day, by two old acquaintances, to indulge his genius at a tavern, where he complained highly of the expenses of the dinner, though it consisted only of a beef steak and two fowls. That nothing might be lost, he took an opportunity, unobserved by the company, to slip the leg of a bullet into his pocket, intending to carry it home for his supper at night. In his way he called at the coffee-house, where a little Pompey playing about him, as usual, unfortunately happened to send the provision in the Councillor's pocket. Tanturian, meanwhile, was so deeply engaged with his newspaper that he never attended to the motions of the dog, who, getting slyly behind him, thrust his head into the pocket, and boldly seizing the spoils, displayed them in triumph to the sight of the whole room. The poor Councillor could not stand the laugh, but retired home in a melancholy mood, vexed at the discovery, and more vexed at the loss of his supper. But these diversions were soon interrupted by a most unlucky accident, and our hero, unfortunate as he has hitherto been, is now going to suffer a turn of fate more grievous than any he yet has known. Following the maid one evening into the streets, he unluckily missed her at the turning of an alley, and, happening to take a wrong way, prowled out of his knowledge before he was aware. He wandered about the streets for many hours, in vain, endeavouring to explore his way home, in which distress his memory brought back the cruel chance that had separated him from his best mistress, Lady Tempest, and this reflection aggravated his misery beyond description. At last a watchman picked him up and carried him to the watch house, where he spent his night in all the agonies of horror and despair. For a watch house, as I dare say many of my readers can testify from experience, is not the most agreeable place of repose either for dogs or men. End of book one chapter 13. Book one chapter 14 of the history of pumping the little. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Eugene Smith. The history of pumping the little, or the life and adventures of a lap dog, by Francis Coventry. Book one chapter 14. A short chapter containing all the wit and all the spirit and all the pleasure of modern young gentlemen. As he was here abandoning himself to lamentation and despair, some other watchman brought in two fresh prisoners to bear him company in his confinement, who, I am sorry to say it, were two young lords. They were extremely disordered, both in their dress and understanding. For Champagne was not the only enemy they had encountered that evening. One of them had lost his coat and waistcoat. The other, his bag and perook, all but a little circular lock of hair, which grew to his forehead, and now hanging over his eyes, added not a little to the drollery of his figure. The generous god of the grape had cast such a mist over their understandings that they were insensible at first of the place of honor they were promoted to. But at length, one of them, a little recovering his wits, cried out, What the devil place is this? A body-house or a Presbyterian meeting-house? Neither, sir, answered a watchman, but the roundhouse. Oh, Pox! said his lordship. I thought you had been a dissenting parson, old gray beard, and was going to preach against whoring, for you must know, old fellow, I'm confounded in for it. But what privilege have you, sir, to carry a man of honor to the roundhouse? I, said the other, went right hand such an old fornicator as thou art to interrupt the pleasures of men of quality. May not a nobleman get drunk without being disturbed by a pack of rascals in the streets? Gentlemen, answered the watch, we are no rascals, but servants of his majesty King George, and his majesty requires us to take up all people that commit disorderly riots in his majesty's streets. You lie, you scoundrels, said one of their lordships, tis the prerogative of men of fashion to do what they please, and I'll prosecute you for a breach of privilege. Damn you, my lord, I'll hold you fifty pound. That old prick there in the great coat is a cuckold, and he shall be judged himself. How many eyes has your wife got, old fellow, one or two? Well, well, said the watchman, your honors may abuse us as much as you please, but we know we are doing our duty, and we will perform it in the king's name. Your duty, you rascal, cried one of these men of honor, is immediately to fetch us a girl and a dozen of champagne. If you'll perform that, I'll say you're as honest an old son of a whore as ever lay with an oyster woman. My dear Fanny, if I had but you here and a dozen of Ryan's claret, I should esteem this roundhouse a palace. Curse me if I don't love to sleep in a roundhouse sometimes. It gives a variety to life and relieves one of the insipidness of a soft bed. Well, said my hero, answered his companion, and these old scoundrels shall carry us before my lord mayor tomorrow for the humor of the things. Pox taken by by all my telecandles of his lordship, and therefore I'm sure he'll use me like a man of honor. In such a kind of roto-montade did these illustrious persons consume their night and principally inlaying wagers, which at present is the highest article of modern pleasure, every particular of human life being reduced by the great calculators of chances to the condition of a bet. But nothing is esteemed more laudable topic of wagering than the lives of eminent men, which in the elegant language of New Market is called running lives. That is to say, a bishop against an alderman, a judge against a keeper of a tavern, a member of parliament against a famous boxer, and in this manner all people's lives are wagered out with proper allowances for their ages, infirmities, and distempers. Happy the nation that can produce such ingenious accomplished spirits! These two honorable peers had been spending their evening at a tavern with many others, and when the rational particle was thoroughly drowned and claret, one of the company leaping from his chair, cried out, Who will do anything? Upon which a resolution was immediately taken to make a sally into the streets and drink champagne upon the horse at Charing Cross. This was no sooner projected than executed, and they performed a great number of heroical exploits too long to be mentioned in this work, but we hope some future historian will arise to immortalize them for the sake of posterity. After this was over, they resolved to scour the streets, and perceiving a light and a cellar underground, our two heroes magnanimously descended into that subterranean cave in quest of adventures. There they found some hackney coachmen enjoying themselves with porter and tobacco, whom they immediately attacked, and offered to box the two sturdiest champions of the company. The challenge was accepted in a moment, and whilst our heroes were engaged, the rest of the coachmen chose to make off with their clothes, which they thought no inconsiderable booty. In short, these gentlemen of pleasure and high life were heartily drugged and obliged to retreat with shame from the cellar of battle, leaving their clothes behind them as spoils at the mercy of the company. Soon afterwards they were taken by the watch, being too feeble to make resistance, and conducted to the roundhouse, where they spent their night in the manner already described. The next morning they returned home in chairs, new-dressed themselves, and then took their seats in parliament to enact laws for the good of their country. End of Book 1, Chapter 14 Book 1, Chapter 15 of the History of Pompey the Little This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Sudeshna The History of Pompey the Little or The Life and Adventures of a Lap Dog by Francis Coventry Book 1, Chapter 15 Chapter 15 Our hero falls into great misfortunes. When the watchman had discharged himself in the morning of these honorable prisoners, he next bethought himself of poor Pompey, who had fallen into his hands in a more inoffensive manner. Him he presented that day to a blind beggar of his acquaintance, who had lately lost his dog and wanted a new guide to conduct him about the streets. Here our hero fell into the most desponding meditations. And was this misery thought he, reserved in store to complete the series of my misfortunes? Am I destined to lead about the dark footsteps of a blind, decrepit, unworthy beggar? Must I go daggle through the streets with a rope about my neck linking me to a wretch that is the scorn of human nature? Oh, that a rope were fixed about my neck indeed for a nobler purpose, and that we're here to end a dreadful, tormenting existence. Can I be here to hear the sound of prey? Remember the poor blind beggar? I, who have conversed with lords and ladies, who have slept in the arms of the fairest beauties, and lived on the choices dainties that London could afford. Cruel, cruel fortune, when will thy persecution cease? Yet, to say the truth, his condition was not so deplorable upon trial, as it appeared in the prospect, for though he was condemned to travel through dirty streets all day long in quest of charity, at night both he and his master fed sumptuously enough on their gains, and many a lean projector or starving poet might envy the suppers of this blind beggar. He seldom failed to collect four or five shillings in a day, and used to sit down to his hot meals with as much stateliness as a pier could to a regular entertainment and dessert. I have heard a story of a cripple, who used constantly to apply for arms at Hyde Park corner, where a gentleman, then just recovered from a dangerous fit of sickness, never failed to give him six pence every morning, as he passed by in his chariot for the air. A servant of this gentleman's going by chance one day into an alehouse, discovered the self-same beggar sitting down to a breast of a wheel, with some more of the fraternity, and heard him raving at the landlord, because the burr was gone and there was no lemon ready to squeeze over it, all of them threatening to leave the house if their dinners were not served up with more regularity and respect. The footman informed his master of this extraordinary circumstance, and next morning, when the pampered hypocrite applied for arms as usual, the gentleman put his head out of the chariot and told him with great indignation, No sir, I can eat wheel without lemon. After our hero had lived in this condition some months in London, his blind master set out for bath, whether it seems he always resorted in the public seasons. Not for the sake of playing at EO, it may be imagined, nor yet for the pleasure of being taken out by the accomplished Mr. Nash to dance a minuit at a ball, but with the hopes of a plentiful harvest among informed people whom ill health disposes to charity. The science of begging is reduced to certain principles of art, as well as other professions, and as sickness is apt to influence people with compassion, the objects of charity flock tether in great numbers. For wherever the carrion is, there will be the crow's bee also. The many adventures that befell them on their journey, how terribly our hero was fatigued with travelling through myry highways, who had been used to ride in coaches in six, and how often he wished his blind tyrant who dropped dead with an apoplexy shall be left to the reader's imagination. Suffice it to say that in about three weeks or a month's time they arrived at the end of their journey, and the beggar readily groped out his way to a certain alehouse, which he always favoured with his company, where the landlord received him with great respect, professing much satisfaction to find his honour so well in health. By this the reader will perceive that he was a beggar of some distinction. If our hero made any reflection, he could not help being surprised at such civility, paid to such person in such a place. But how much greater reason had he for astonishment, when, on the evening of their arrival, he saw a well-dressed woman enter the room and accost his master in the following terms. Papa, how do you do? You are welcome to bath. The beggar no sooner heard her voice than he started from his chair, and gave her a paternal kiss, which the fair lady received with an air of scorn and indifference, telling him, he had poisoned her with his bushy bed. When this ceremony was over, she threw herself into an arm chair, and began to harrong in the following manner. Well, Papa, so you are coming to bath at last. I thought we should not have seen you this season, and I have immediate necessity for a sum of money. Sure, no mortal ever had such locket cards, as I have had. You must let me have five or ten pound directly. Five or ten pound, cries the beggar in a maze. How in the devil's name should I come by five or ten pound? Come, come. No words, cried the daughter, for I absolutely must, and will have it in spite of your teeth. I know you are worth above a hundred pounds, and what can you do with your money better than give it to me to make a figure in life with? Do you stick the men? They are grown so plagued, modest, or so plagued stingy, that really it is hardly worth coming to bath now in the seasons. Hang me if I have had a call this twelve month. But do you know all that? That brother jacks at the bath. Oh, cries the beggar, there is another of my plagues. I shall have him doneing me for money too very soon, I suppose, for the devil can't answer the extravagancies of that fellow. Well, he'll certainly come to be hanged at last. That's my comfort. And I think the sooner he swings, the better it will be for his poor father and the whole kingdom. Hanged, replied the lady. No, no. Jack is in no danger of hanging at present, I assure you. He is now the most accomplished, modest, admired young fellow at the bath. The peculiar favourite of all the ladies, and in a fair way of running off with a young heiress of considerable fortune. Let me see all that, if you'll be speak a private room, and have a little elegant supper ready at eleven o'clock tomorrow night, for Jack won't be able to get away from the room sooner than eleven. I'll bring him to suck with you, and you shall hear his history from his own mouth. To this, the old hypocrite her father readily consented, and promised to provide something decent for them, after which, starting from a chair, well, papa, said she, you must excuse me at present, for I expect company at my lodgings, and so can't afford to waste any more time with you in this miserable dog-hole of an ale-house. Having made this polite apology, she flew to the chair, which waited at the door, and was conducted home with as much importance as if she had been a princess of the blood. The next day, the blind imposter, attended by a hero, went out on his pilgrimage, and continued whining for charity and profaning the name of God till night, after which he returned to his ale-house, put on a better coat, and got himself in redness for the reception of his son and daughter. At the hour appointed, these illustrious personnel entered the room, and the conversation was opened by the son in the following easy strain. All boy, cries he, seizing his father by the hand, I'm glad to see thee with all my heart. Well, old fellow, how does your crutch and blind eyes do? What? You continue still in the old canting hypocritical way I perceive. Pox-take you, I saw you hobbling through the streets today, old miserable, but, you know, I'm ashamed to take notice of you in public. Though I think I've thrown you down many a tester at the corner of the street, without your knowing whom you was obliged to for such a piece of generosity. Sir, I honour your generosity, replied the beggar. But pray thee, Jack, they tell me you are going to be married to an heiress of great fortune. Is there any truth in the story? Here, the boar-sharper took a French snuff-box out of his pocket, and having entertained his nose with the pinch of Rapé, replied as follows. Yes, sir. My unaccountable somewhat has had the good luck to make conquest of a little amorous tit, with an easy moderate fortune of about fifteen thousand pounds. Who does me the honour to dote on this person of mine to distraction? But pray thee, old blue-bed, how did thou come by this piece of intelligence? From that fine lady, your sister, sir, replied the beggar. O Pox, I thought so, cries the boar. Best can never keep anything in her, but a teeth, nor them either. Can you best? You understand me? But as I was saying, concerning this match, yes, sir, I have the honour at present to be principal favourite of all the women at bath. They are all dying with love of me, and I may do what I please with any of them, but I, sir, neglecting the rest, have singled out a little amorous vent on, with a trifling fortune of fifteen or twenty thousand pounds only, whom I shall very soon whip into a chariot, I believe and drive away to a parson. Lord, cries the father, if she did know what a thief she is going to marry. Why? What then? You old curmudgeon, she would be the more extravagantly fond of me on that account. This very fashionable sir, for ladies to fall in love with highwaymen nowadays, they think it discovers a soul, a genius, a spirit in them, about the little prejudices of education. And I believe I could not do better than let her know that I have returned from transportation. But for the old dim, what has got for supper tonight? Nothing, I am afraid that the gentleman of your fashion can condescend to each reply the beggar, for I have only ordered a dish of wheel cutlets and a couple of roasted falls. Come, come, pray thee, don't pretend to drool old blinker, cries the sun. But produce your musty supper as fast as you can, and then I'll treat you with a bottle of French claret. Come, let us be merry and set in for jovial evening. Pox, I have some little kind of sneaking regard for thee, for begetting me, not withstanding a crutch in blind eyes. And I think I am not altogether sorry to see thee. Here, drawer, landlord, bring up supper directly, you dog, or I'll set fire to your house. This extraordinary summons had the desired effect, and the supper being placed on the table, the three worthy guests sat down to it with great importance. The lady took upon her to manage the ceremonies and asked her papa in the first place, if she could help him to some wheel cutlets, to which the answer was, if you please, madam, when she had served a father. She then performed the same office to herself, after which, twirling the dish round with a familiar air, I'll leave you, said she, to take care of yourself, Jack, much mirth and pleasantry rained at the peculiar mealy, to the utter astonishment of the master of the house, who had never seen the like before. When supper was over and they began to feel the inspiration of the clarré, Jack, says the father, I think I know nothing of your history. Since you return from transportation, suppose you should begin and entertain us with an account of your exploits? With all my heart, cries the son, I believe I shall publish my life one of these days, if ever I am driven to necessity. For a fancy, it will make a very pretty need to do the simo. And is the fashion, you know, nowadays for all whores and rogues to entertain the world with their memoirs? Come, let us take another glass round to the health of my dear little charmer, and then I'll begin my adventures. Having so said, he filled out three bumpers, drank his toast to his knees, and then commenced his narration in the following manner. End of Book 1, Chapter 15, Recording by Sudeshna Book 1, Chapter 16, of the history of Pompey the Little. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org, recording by Sudeshna. The History of Pompey the Little, or The Life and Adventures of a Lab Dog, by Francis Coventry, Book 1, Chapter 16. The History of a Highwayman I think you have often told me, old father hypocrite, that you begat me under a hedge near Newbury in Berkshire. This, I confess, is not the most honorable way of coming into the world, but no man is answerable for his birth, and therefore what signifies pre-varication. Alexander, I have heard, was the son of a flying dragon, and Romulus was suckled by a plaguey confounded wolf, as I have read in Hooke's Roman history. And yet in time he grew to be a very pretty young fellow, and a king. But you are ignorant of these matters, both of you, and therefore I only play the fool to talk about them in such company. Well, sir, as soon as I was born, my mother, I suppose, racked me up in the dirty rags of an old rotten petticoat, and lugged me about behind her shoulders as an object to move compassion. In this agreeable situation, nuzzling behind the back of a lousy drab, excuse me, old fellow, for making so free with your concert. In this situation, I suppose, I visited all the towns in England. And it's amazing, I was not tripled with having my feet and limbs bundled up in such close confinement. But I kicked hard for liberty, and at length came out that easy dégagé jaunty young fellow of fashion, which you now behold me. My genius very early began to show itself, and before I was twelve years old, you know, I had acquired a great reputation for a slight of hand, which being reported to a great master of that science, he immediately took me under his care and promised to initiate me into all the mysteries of the art. Thus I bade adieu to the dirty employment of pecking, left father and mother and struck into a higher sphere of life. At first, indeed, I meddled only with petty larceny and was sent out to try my hand on execution days at Tyburn, where having acquitted myself with honour, I was quickly promoted to better business, and by that time I was fifteen, began to make a great figure in the passages about the theatres. Many a gentleman's fob have I eased of the trouble of carrying a watch, and though it may look like vanity to say so, I believe I furnished more broker shops and peddlers' boxes than half the pickpockets in London besides. None of them all had so great a levy of travelling Jews to travel for buckles, seals, watches, tweezer cases, and the like as I had. But my chief dexterity was in robbing the ladies. There is a peculiar delicacy required in whipping one's hand up a lady's petticoats and carrying off her pockets, which few of them ever attained to with any success, that now was my glory and that was my delight. I performed it to admonition and outdid them all in this branch of the craft. I remember once a chambermaid of my acquaintance, a flame of mine, gave me notice that her young lady would be at play such a night with a pair of diamond buckles in her shoes. You may be sure I washed her into her quartz, marked her into her box and waited for her coming out with some of the fraternity to assist me. At last, as soon as the play was over, out she came, tittering and laughing with her companions, who by good luck happened to be all of her own sex. This now was my time. I had her up in my arms in a moment, while one of my comrades whipped off her shoes with prodigious expedition. But my reason for telling the story is this. While I had her in my arms, let me die if I could help a giving her a kiss, which hang me if the little tremler did not seem to return with her heart, panting and breast seaving, deuce take me. If I was not almost sorry afterwards to see her walking to her coach without any shoes upon her feet. Well, sir, this was my course of life for a few years. But ambition, you know, is a thing never to be satisfied and having gained all the glory I could in this way. My next step of promotion was to the gaming tables. Here, I played with great success a long while and shared in the fleecing of many raw young quillies who had more money than wit. But one unfortunate night, the devil or my evil genius carried me to a masquerate. And there, in the ill-omend habit of a friar, being full enough to play upon an honourable footing, I lost all I had to a few shillings. This was a confounded stroke. This was a stunning blow to me. I lay a bed all the next day raving at my ill fortune and beating my brains to think I could be such an ass as to play upon the squire. At last, in a fit of despair, I started out of bed about nine or ten o'clock at night. Borrowed a friend's horse, bought a second-hand pair of poppers with a little silver that was left me, and away I rode full gallop night and rainy as it was for hound's law heat. There I wandered about half-dead with cold and fear till morning, and to say the truth, began to grow devilish sick of my business. When day broke, the first object that presented itself to my eyes, I remember was a gallows within hundred yards of me. This seemed plaguey ominous, and I was very near riding back to London without striking a stroke. At last, while I was wavering in the state of uncertainty, behold, a stagecoach comes gently, softly, ambling over the heat. Courage my heart cries. There can be no fear of resistance here. A stagecoach is the most lucky thing in the world for a young adventurer. And so saying, I clapped on my mask, the same I had worn the night before at the hay market, set spurs to my horse, and presented my pistol at the coach window. How the passengers behaved, I know not. For my own part, I was more than half blind with fear, and taking what they gave me without any expostulation, a way I rode, exceedingly well satisfied, to have escaped without resistance. Taking courage however, at this success, I attacked another stagecoach with greater bravery, and afterwards a third, with so much magnanimity that I even ventured to search some of the passengers, who I thought defrauded me of my due. Here now I should have left off, and all have been well. But that devil avarice prompting me to get a little more, I attacked a single horseman, and plundered him of a watch and about thirty guineas. The scoundrel seemed to pursue his journey quite enough, but meeting afterwards with some of his friends on the road, and relating his case to them, they all agreed to pursue me. Meanwhile, sir, I was jogging on contentedly at my ease. When turning around on a sudden, I saw this tremendous grusier, and two or three more bloody-minded fellows that seemed such as big as a giant, in full pursuit of me. Away I dashed through thick and thin as if the devil drove, but being wretchedly mounted, I was surrounded, apprehended, carried before that infernal sir Thomas Dewey, and he committed me. Now I was in a sweet condition. This was a charming revolution in my life—new gate and the prospects of a gallows for a nisherman with very agreeable reflections. Over that cursed old Bailey I shall never forget the sentence which the humdrum son of a war of a judge passed upon me. You shall hang till you are dead, dead, dead. Fifth, I was more than half-dead with hearing it, and in that plight I was dragged back to my prison. Excellent lodging in the condemned-hole. Pretty music the death warrants rings in a man's ears. But as good luck would have it, while I was expecting every hour to be tucked up, his majesty God bless him, took pity on me the very day before execution and sent me a reprieve for transportation. To describe the transport I felt at this moment would be impossible. I was half mad with joy, and instead of reflecting that I was going to slavery, fancied myself going to heaven. The being shipped off for Jamaica was so much better a voyage I thought than faring over that same river stikes with old Gaffar Charon that I never once troubled myself about what I was to suffer when I got tither. Not to be tedious for I hate a long story. To Jamaica I went, with the full resolution of making my escape by the first opportunity, which I very soon accomplished. After leading the life of a dog for about a year and a half I got on board a ship which was coming for England and arrived safe and sound on the coast of Cornwall. My dear native country, how it revived my heart to see thee again. O London, London, no woman of quality after suffering the vapours for a whole summer in the country, ever sighed after thee with greater desire than I did. But as I landed without a farthing of money in my pocket, I was obliged to beg my way up to town in the habit of a sailor, telling all the way the confoundest lies, how I had been taken by pirates and fought with the moors who were going to eat me alive and twenty other unaccountable stories to chouse silly women of a few half-pence. Well, at last I entered the dear old metropolis and went immediately in a quest of a gang of sharpers which I formerly frequented. These jovial blades were just then setting out for new market races and very generously took me into their party. They supplied me with cloth, lent me a little money to begin with and in short, set me up again in the world. There is nothing like courage, just the life, the soul of business. Accordingly, on the very first day's sport, having marked out the horse that I saw was the favourite of the knowing ones, I offered great odds, made as many bets as I could and trusted myself to fortune, resolving to scamper off the course as hard as I could drive if I saw her likely to declare against me. But as it happened to make amends for her former ill-usage, the jade now decided in my favour. It was quite a hollow thing, Gawliath won the day and I pocketed up about three score guineas. Of this I made excellent use at the gaming tables and in short, when the week was over, carried away from new market a cool three hundred. Now, my dear Bess, I was a man again. I returned immediately to London, equipped myself with lace clothes, rattled down to bath in a post-shay's, gave myself out for the eldest son of Sir Jeremy Gruskin of the Kingdom of Ireland and struck at once into all the joys of high life. This is a little epitome of my history. Having been a pickpocket, a sharper, a slave and a highwayman, I am now the peculiar favourite of all the ladies at bath. Here the bow finished the story and sat expecting the applause of his company, which he very soon received on the part of his sister. But as to that worthy gentleman, his father, he had been fast asleep for several minutes and did not hear the conclusion of this wonderful history. Being now waked by silence and the cessation of his son's voice, as he had been before lulled to sleep by his talking, he cried out from the midst of a dose. So, she's a very fine girl, is she, Jack? A very fine girl. Who is a very fine girl? cries the sharper, slapping him over the shoulder. Why sounds Dawat asleep all miserable and does not know a syllable of what has been said? Yes, sir, I do know what has been said to return the father. And therefore you need not beat one so, Jack. You was telling about going to be married and going to Jamaica? Going to Jamaica. Box take thee, thou wantest to be going to bed. Why was there ever such a wretched old dothard? I have not seen thee these seven or eight years and perhaps we never see thee again. Fadal to be rotten in a year or two more and yet cast not put a little life into thyself for one evening. Come, Bess, added he. Let us take another bumper and then bid old drowsy good night. Silinus will snore to do what can one to prevent him. Here, my girl, here's prosperity to love and may old sleepers go to the devil. Nay, nay, cries the father. Consider, Jack, this past the bedtime many hours ago. You fine gentlemen of the world are able to bear these fashionable hours. But I have been used to live by the light of the sun. Besides, if you had been dredging about after charity as I have all day long, I fancy you would not be in a much better condition than your poor father. But really, you sharpers, don't consider the toil and trouble of earning one's bread in an honest way. Why, now, I have not gathered above six or seven shillings this whole day, and that won't half-pay for our supper tonight. Here, the bow bestowed several curses on him for his stinginess and contemptuously bidding him bode up his miserable pelf, generously undertook to pay the whole. The bill was then called for the reckoning, discharge, and the company separated, having first, however, made an agreement to meet there the succeeding evening, and thus ended this illustrious competition. Please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Richard Kilmer The History of Pompey the Little or The Life and Adventures of a Lap Dog by Francis Coventry Book 1 Chapter 17 Adventures at the Bath Next morning the blind beggar conducted by our hero went out as usual and presented himself before the Boumonde on the parade. Some few people, afflicted with very ill health, were generous enough to throw him down a few sixpences. Others only commended the beauty of his pretty dog, and far the greater number walked on without casting their eyes upon him. As he was here howling forth the miseries of his condition in a most lamentable tone of voice, who should happen the pass by but his own accomplished son in company with two ladies of figure to whom he was talking with the greatest familiarity and ease? The gaiety of his laugh, the vivacity of his conversation made him universally observed, and all the women on the parade seemed to envy the happiness of the two ladies with whom he was engaged. As the party came very near the place where the old hypocrite was stationed, he could not escape their notice, and the youngest of the ladies being struck with compassion at the sight of him. Bless me, says she. I am sure that poor old man is an object of charity. Do stay a moment, lady Marmosette. I am resolved to give him something. Shaw, my dear, come along, child, cries her ladyship. How can you be so ridiculous, Miss Newcomb? Who gives any money to charity nowadays? True, madam, your ladyship is perfectly in the right, replied the beau, who now discovered his own father. Nothing can be more idle, I think, than throwing once money away upon a set of thievish, tattered-a-million wrenches who are the birthing of the nation and ought to be exterminated from the face of the earth. Well, well, you may say what you please, both of you, says Miss Newcomb, but I am resolved to be generous this morning, and therefore it does not signify laughing at me. Here, Master Gaffer, here's six pence for you. All this while, Mr. Grishkin was in extreme pain, for though he had no reason to fear any discovery, yet the consciousness that this deplorable object was his own father hurt the gentleman's pride in the presence of his mistress, and greatly checked his vivacity. He endeavored, therefore, all he could to hurry the young lady away from so unpleasant a scene, in which he was seconded by Lady Marmoset, who kept crying out, How can you be so monstrously preposterous, Miss Newcomb? Come along, girl. As I hope to be saved, I am ashamed of you. We shall have all the eyes of the company upon us in a few minutes. I don't care of farthing for the company, replied the young lady. I am resolved to ask the old man some questions, and therefore hold your tongue. What, are you quite blind, Gaffer? By this time, Squire Grishkin was recovered from his first surprise, and perceiving no bad consequences likely to happen, thought he might venture to shine a little upon the occasion. Sirah, Cricy, you miserable old dog. What do you mean by shocking people of quality here, with a sight of your detestable physiognomy? Whence do you come? What do you do out of your own parish? I'll have you whipped from constable to constable back to your own settlement. No, please, your noble honor, cries the beggar. I hope your noble honor won't be so cruel to a poor blind man. A poor blind man struck blind with lightning. Heaven preserve your honor from such calamities. I have very good friends down in Cumberland. Please, your royal worship, and I am traveling homeward as fast as I can. But it pleased heaven to strike me blind with a flash of lightning a long way from my relations, and I am reduced to beg for a little sustenance. Mercy upon me, cries Miss Newcombe. Why, what a vast way the miserable wretch has to travel, Mr. Grishkin. How will he ever be able to get home? O curse him. All a confounded lie from the beginning to the end. Depend upon it, madam. The dog has no relations or friends in the world. I'll answer for him, cries the bow. Then, turning to his father. Hear, you old rascal, add at he. Here's a shilling for you. And do you hear me? Take yourself off this moment. If I ever see you upon the parade again, I'll have you laid by the heels and sent to the House of Correction. The blind wretch then hobbled away, pouring forth a thousand benedictions upon them, while Lady Marmoset and the Sharper rallied Miss Newcombe for her unfashionable generosity. Leaving the reader to make his own remarks on this extraordinary occurrence, I shall pass over the intermediate space of time in which nothing happened material to this history, and rejoin the three illustrious guests at their ale-house in the evening. The Lady was the first that came, to whom her father related the adventure of the morning, which greatly delighted her. While she was laughing at this story, that sprightly night her brother also came singing into the room, and throwing himself negligently into a chair, picked his teeth for a moment or two in silence. Then, addressing himself to his father, O fellow Christy, I was obliged to use you a little roughly this morning, but you'll excuse me. There was a necessity, you know, of treating you like a scoundrel and an impostor, to prevent any suspicion of our relationship. Well, well, Jack, replied the father, I forgive you. I forgive you with all my heart. For I suppose one of the ladies was your sweetheart. And, to be sure, to as well not to let her know you was my son, for fear of the worst that might happen. Those, you tell me, women are so fond of merry and highwaymen nowadays. Out of Jack, I wished for my eyes again, just to have one little peep at her. What, is she a deadly fine girl? A divine creature, replied the beau, young, melting, amorous and beautiful, innocent as an angel, and yet wanton as the month of May. And then she dotes on me to distraction. Did you mind how tenderly the little fool interested herself about your blind eyes, and pitied you for the confounded lies, you told her? Why, yes, there was something very pretty, I must confess, said the father. Very pretty indeed in her manner of talking. How the deuce do you get acquainted with these great ladies? Oh, let me alone for that, return Mr. Griskin. I am made for women, sir. I have the two jurors gay, which is so dear to them. I am blessed with that agreeable impudence, that easy familiar way of talking nonsense, the happy insensibility of shame, which they all adore in men. And then consider my figure, my shape, my air, my legs. All together I find I am irresistible. How in the name of wonder, old fellow, could you and your troll strike out such a lucky hit under a country hedge? Here the fair lady was in rapture at her brother's wit, and asked her father, if he did not think him a most delightful, charming young fellow, to which the beggar replied with a groan. Oh, Jack, Jack, thou wilt certainly come to be hanged in the end. I see it as plain as can be. So much wit and impudence will certainly bring thee to the gallows at last. Much more of this sort of rivalry and licentious conversation passed between them. And as the father was more wakeful this night than he had been the preceding one, they protracted their cups till very late. They roared, they sung, they danced, and practiced all sorts of unruly drunken mirth. At last, however, they separated once more to their several beds, and fate had destined that they should never meet again in joy and friendship at this or any other alehouse. The cause were of will be seen in the following chapter. THE HISTORY OF POMPEI THE LITTLE The father of young Jeremy Grisken was so pleased with the advantageous match his son was concluding, that in the joy of his heart he could not help talking of it to the alehousekeeper where he lodged, though he had implicated a thousand curses on his head if ever he revealed. The alehousekeeper likewise had bound himself by an equal number of oaths, never to discover what he heard from the beggar, and perhaps at the time he made these vows he meant to observe them. But, being once in the possession of a secret, he found it impossible to be long easy with so troublesome a guest in his bosom. With a very mysterious face, therefore, he whispered to several coachmen and footmen who frequented his house, that a very fine gentleman and lady came privately every night to visit an old blind beggar who lodged with him. That these fine folks, by what he could learn, were the beggar's son and daughter, and that the fine gentleman lived amongst the quality, and was going to run away with a great fortune. The story, having made this progress, could not fail of proceeding farther. For, being once communicated to the servants of several families, it was quickly served up to the tables of the great. The valets informed their masters, and the waiting gentle-women their mistresses, as a new topic of conversation, while they were dressing them. From hence the rumour became public, and dispersed itself all over the bath, so that the very next morning, after the last rendezvous at the alehouse, when Squire Griskin appeared with Lady Marmoset and Miss Newcomb as usual in the pump room, they found themselves stared on, with more than common attention, by all the company. Several gentlemen laughed aloud as they passed by them. The young ladies all affected to titter under their fans, and the elder dames tossed up their noses with the most insolent air of disdain. All of this could not be done without a meaning. The two ladies, his companions, were greatly astonished, and even the beau himself, fortified as he was in impudence, could not stifle some unpleasant apprehensions. He affected, however, to turn it off with an air of railery, imputed it to the damn sensoriousness of the bath, and expressed his wonder that people could not be allowed to be free and intimate, without drawing on themselves the scandalous observations of a whole public place. While Mr. Griskin was supposed to be a gentleman, the whole tribe of coquettes and beauties looked on Miss Newcomb, with eyes of jealousy and indignation. All of them, Envy and her happiness, of engaging so accomplished a lover. But no sooner, where they let into the secret of his parentage, than they began to triumph in their turns, and showed their malice another way. Envy now changed into contempt. A malicious sneer was seen on all their faces, and they huddled together in little parties to feast on so agreeable a discovery. For spite is never so spiteful as among young ladies who are rivals in love and beauty. Really, madam, said one of them, one must be obliged to take care of one's pockets, because you know, if sharpers are allowed to come into public places, and appear like gentlemen, one can never be safe for a moment. To which another replied, Indeed, I shall leave my watch at home when I go to the ball tonight. For I don't think it's safe to carry anything valuable about one, while Miss Newcomb's admirer continues among us. Many such speeches were flirted about. For, though the story hitherto was only a flying suspicion, they were all fully persuaded of its truth, and resolutely bent to believe it, without waiting for any confirmation, and indeed, without once troubling themselves to inquire on what authority it was founded. The gay sharper manifestly perceived, from all this, that some discovery had been made to his disadvantage, but not being willing to resign his hopes till affairs appeared a little more desperate, he very courageously presented himself that evening in the ballroom. He was indeed prudent enough to abstain from minuettes, not choosing to encounter the eyes of people in so conspicuous an attitude. But as soon as the company stood up to country dances, with a face of infinite assurance, he led Miss Newcomb towards the top of the room, and took his station as usual among the foremost files. A buzz immediately ran through the company, and when they came to dance, most of the ladies refused him their hands. This was a terrible blow to him. He knew not how to revenge the affront, nor yet how to behave under such an interdiction. Lady Marmosade, who saw with what scorn he was treated, very resolutely advanced, and reprimanded several of her female acquaintances with much warmth for their behavior, pretending it was an affront to Miss Newcomb. Who came the bath under her protection, and whose cause she was obliged to a spouse. In reality, I believe there was another reason which quickened her ladieship's resentment, and made her behold, with concern, the indignities offered to a man who had found the way of being agreeable to her ladieship, as well as to the young lady her companion. But however that be, to certain her interfering did him little service, and after a thousand taunts and flears, the unfortunate couple was obliged to sit down in a corner of the room. They stood up again sometime afterwards to make a fresh attempt, proved as unsuccessful as the former. In short, after repeated disgraces, they were obliged to give over all thought of dancing for the remaining part of the night. The poor girl trembling and wondering what could be the reason for all this behavior, and even the beau himself looking foolish under the consciousness of his own condition. As it was pretty plain, however, that his father must have betrayed his secret, the ball no sooner broke up than he flew with the greatest rage to the ale-house, rushed eagerly into the room where the miserable wretch was then dozing, and fell upon him with all the bitterness of passion. Where is this old rascal-crisy? What is it you mean by this you detestable miscrant? I have a great mind to murder you, and give your carcass to the hounds. Bless us. What's the matter now, Jack, said the beggar. Matter, returned he? You have been prattin' and tattlin' and chatterin'. You have ruined me, you old villain. You have blown me up for ever. Speak, confess that you have discovered my secrets. Here the beggar stammered and endeavored to excuse himself, but was obliged at last to acknowledge that he believed he might have mentioned something of the matter to the man of the house. How dirst you mention anything of the matter? cries the son, seizing his father by the throat. How dirst you open your lips upon the subject? I have a great inclination to pluck your tongue out and burn it before your face. You have told him, I suppose, that I am your son. Tis a lie you stole me, you kidnapped me. Tis impossible I could be the offspring of such an eyeless, shirtless, toothless ragamuffin as thou art. Here I have been insulted by everybody tonight. I have run the gandalope through the whole ballroom. All my hopes, all my stratagems are destroyed, and all is owing to your infamous prattin'. But mark what I say to you. Set out directly tonight or tomorrow morning before sunrise, and budge it off as fast as your legs can carry you. If I find you here tomorrow at seven o'clock, by hell I'll cut your throat, you have done mischief enough already. You shall do me no more, and therefore pack up your wallet and away with you, or prepare to feed the crows. Having uttered this terrible denunciation of vengeance, he rushed out of the room, with as much impetuosity as he came into it, and left the poor offender staring and trembling with amazement. The first thing he did after his son had quitted him was to heave up a prodigious groan, which he accompanied with a moral reflection on the hard fate of all fathers, who were cursed with rebellious, unnatural children. As such usage he thought was sufficient to cancel all parental affection, he felt in himself a strong desire at first to be revenged, by impeaching and bringing the villain to justice, but then considering on the other hand that he could not well do this, without discovering his own hypocrisy and impostors at the same time, he prudently suppressed those thoughts, and resolved to quit the place. To us already said to himself to obey the orders of such an abandoned profligate, but he comforted himself with the agreeable, and indeed very probable hopes, that he should soon see his son come to the gallows, without his being accessory to such an event. Very early then, the next morning, he set out with his unfortunate little guide, and made forced marches for London. Being willing to escape beyond the reach of his son's resentment as soon as possible, he traveled so very fast that, in a little more than a week's time, he arrived at Reading. From whence, after a day's resting, he again renewed his journey. But sorrow and fatigue so entirely overcame him, that he fell sick on the road, and it was with the greatest difficulty that he crawled up to the gate of a celebrated inn, not used to entertaining such guests, where he fainted and dropped down in a fit. Two or three Oslars, who were the first that saw him, conveyed him to an apartment in the stable, where he lay for several days in the most miserable condition. His disorder soon rendered him speechless, and, being able to ask for nothing, he was supplied with nothing. For though the good landlady of a house would gladly have done anything in the world to relieve him, had she known his condition, her servants, happening not to have the same spirit of humanity in them, never once informed her that such an object of charity lay sick in her stable. Finding himself thus neglected and destitute of all comfort, he very prudently gave up the ghost, leaving our hero once more at the disposal of chance. What future scenes of good or evil are next to open upon him? Fate does not yet choose to divulge, and therefore begging the reader to suspend his curiosity, till we have received the proper commission for gratifying it, we here put an end to this first book of our wonderful history. End of Book 1, Chapter 18. Recording by Richard Kilmer, Rio Medina, Texas. By Francis Coventry. Book 2, Chapter 1. Fortune grows favourable to our hero and restores him to high life. The blind beggar, to whose tyranny Fortune had committed our hero, groaned out his soul, as the reader has already seen, in a stable at a public inn. Pompey, standing by, had the pleasure of seeing the tyrant fall as he deserved, and exalted over him, like Cicero in the Senate House over the dying Caesar. This misfortune was first discovered by an Osler, who, coming accidentally into the stable, and perceiving the miserable creature stretched out on the straw, began at first to holler in his ear, imagining him to be asleep. But finding him insensible to three or four hearty kicks, which he bestowed upon him, odd rabbiton, cried he. Why, sure I can't be dead, can I? By gar he is. Pilgarlic is certainly dead. He then called together two or three of his brethren to divert themselves with this agreeable spectacle, and many stable jokes passed upon the occasion. When their diversion was over, one of them ran indoors to inform their mistress. But the good woman was not immediately at leisure to hear his intelligence, being taken up in her civilities to a coach and six, just then arrived, and very busy in conducting the ladies to their apartments. However, when dinner was over, she bethought herself of what had happened, and went into the stable, attended by two of her chambermaids, to survey the corpse and give orders for its burial. There, little Pompey for the first time presented himself to her view. But sorrow and ill usage had so impaired his beauty, and his coat too was in such a déceivier of dirt and mire, that he bespoke no favourable opinion in his beholders. We must not, therefore, think Mrs. Windmill of a cruel nature, because she ordered him to be hanged, for in reality she is a very humane and friendly woman, but perceiving no beauty in the dog to incline her to compassion, and concluding him to be a thief from the company he was found with, it was natural for her to show him no mercy. A consultation, therefore, was held in the yard, and sentence of death pronounced upon him, which had been executed as soon as commanded, for the Oslo was instantly preparing a rope with great delight, had not one of the chambermaids interposed, saying, she believed he was a sweet, pretty creature, if he was washed, and desired her mistress to save him. A word of this kind was enough for Mrs. Windmill, who immediately granted him a reprieve, and ordered him into the kitchen for a turnspit. But when he had gone through the ceremony of lustration, and was thoroughly cleaned, everybody was struck with his beauty, and the good landlady in particular, who now changed her resolutions, and, instead of condemning him to the drudgery of a turnspit, made him her companion, and taught him to follow her about the house. He soon grew to be a favourite with the whole family, as indeed he always was wherever he came, and the chambermaids used to take him to their beds at night. He likewise got acquainted with Captain, the great house-dog, who, like Cerberus, terrified the regions round about with his barking. Yet would he often condescends to be pleased with the frolics of little Pompey, and vouchsafe now and then to unbend his majesty with a game of play. After he had lived here near a fortnight, a post-chase stopped one day at the door, out of which a lighted two ladies just arrived from the bath. They ran directly to the fire, declaring they were almost frozen to death with coal, whereupon Mrs. Windmill began to thunder for wood, and assisted in making up an excellent fire. After which, she begged of the favour to know what their ladyships would please to have for dinner. If you please, madam, said the eldest, I'll look into your larder. With all my heart, madam, answered the good landlady, I have fish and vows of all kinds, and rabbits and hares, and variety of butchers-meat. But your ladyship says you will be so good as to accommodate yourself on the spot. I'm ready to attend your ladyship, whatever your ladyship pleases. While the eldest was gone to examine the larder, the youngest of these ladies, having seized little Pompey, who followed his mistress into the room, was infinitely charmed with its beauty, and caressed him during the whole time of her sister's absence. Pompey in return seemed pleased to be taken notice of by so fair a lady, for though he had been long disused to the company of people of fashion, he had not yet forgot how to behave himself with complacence and good manners. He felt a kind of pride returning, which all his misfortunes had not been able to extinguish, and began to hope the time was come which should restore him to the Beaumont. With these hopes he continued in the room all the time the ladys were at dinner, paying great court to them both, and receiving what they were pleased to bestow upon him with much fawning and officious civility. As soon as the ladys had dined, Mrs. Windmill came in to make her compliments, as usual, hoping the dinner was dressed to their ladyship's minds, and that the journey had not destroyed their appetites. She received very courteous answers to all she said, and after some other conversation on indifferent topics little Pompey came at last upon the carpet. Pray, madam, said the youngest of the ladys, how long have you had this very pretty dog? Mrs. Windmill, who never was deficient when she had an opportunity of talking, having started so fair a subject, began to display her eloquence in the following manner. Madam, says she, the little creature fell into my hands by the strangest accident in life, and it is God's mercy he was not hanged. An old blind beggar, ladies, died in my stable about fortnight ago, and it seems this little animal used to lead him about the country. It is amazing how they come by the instinct they have in them, and such a little creature too. But, as I was telling you, ladies, the old blind beggar was just returned from bath, as your ladyships may be now, and the poor miserable wretch perished in my stable. There he left this little dog, and, will you believe it, ladies, as I am alive I ordered him to be hanged, not once dreaming he was such a beauty, for indeed he was quite covered over with mire and nastiness, as to be sure he could not be otherwise, after leading the old blind man so long a journey. But a maid's servant of mine took a fancy to the little wretch, and begged his life. And, would you think it, ladies, I am now grown as fond of the little fool as if he was my own child. The two sisters, diverted with Mrs. Windmill's aeration, could not help smiling on one another, but disguising their laughter as well as they could. I do not wonder, said the youngest, at your fondness for him, madam, he is so remarkably handsome. And that being the case, I can't find it in my heart to rob you of him, otherwise I was just going to ask if you should be willing to part with him. Bless me, madam, said the obliging hostess. I am sure there is nothing I would not do to oblige your ladyship, and if your ladyship has such an affection for the little wretch, not part with him, indeed. Nay, madam, said the lady, interrupting her. I would willingly make you any immense, and if you are pleased to name your price, I'll purchase him of you. A lack of day, madam, replied the landlady. I am sorry your ladyship suspects me to be of such a mercenary disposition. Purchase him, indeed. He is extremely at your ladyship's service, if you are pleased to accept of him. With these words she took him up, and delivered him into the ladys' arms, who received him with many acknowledgments of the favour done her, or which the good landlady repaid with abundant interest. Word was now broad that the chase was ready, and waited at the door, whereupon the two ladys were obliged to break off their conversation, and Mrs. Windmill to restrain her eloquence. She attended them, with a million of civil speeches to their equipage, and handing little Pompey to them when they were seated in it, took her leave for the great profusion of smiles and curtsies. The pastillion blew his horn, the ladys bowed, and our hero's heart exalted with transport to think of the amendment of his fate.