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'squire's whim, resolved to accept of the place, and, on application, was admitted into the family.
Thomas was greatly surprised, after living there for two months, that nothing was allowed him for breakfast, dinner, or supper, but bread and cheese and small beer. Being heartily tired of this kind of fare, he applied to the cook : Cookee,' says Thomas, “is it the standing rule of this family to keep their servants on nothing but bread and chesse ? What!' says the cook, 'do you grumble ?' 'No, no, by no means, cookee,' replied Thomas, being fearful of forfeiting the money. But recollecting his master's park was stocked with fine deer, he took a musket and shot a fawn, skinned it, and brought it to the cook. “Here, cookee,' said Thomas, “take and roast this fawn for me immediately ; for I have an acquaintance or two coming down from London to pay me a visit.' The cook seemed to object to it, having some meat to dress directly for her master; “What,' says Thomas, 'cookee, do you grumble ?' 'No,' replied the cook; so down to roast went the fawn.
The appointed time arrived that the master ordered dinner, and no sign of any coming to his table occasioned him to ring the bell, to know the reason of it; the cook acquainted the 'squire with all Thomas's proceeding, who in a great hurry bolted down stairs into the kitchen, where he found Thomas very busy in , basting the fawn. “How got you that fawn ?' says the 'squire. 'Shot it,' replied Thomas. Where ?' says the 'squire. In your park, replied Thomas. • By whose orders ? quoth the 'squire. Do you grumble ?' says 'l'homas. “No, Thomas,' says the 'sqnire ; and retired to his diniug-room, greatly perplexed at Thomas's proceedings.
He instantly wrote a letter to a gentleman who lived near six miles from his house, and ordered that Thomas should carry it immediately. Poor Thomas was obliged to comply, though with a sorrowful heart to leave the fawn. After his departure, the 'squire ordered the fawn, when dressed, to be brought to his table, which was done accordingly. On Thomas's return, he found himself fairly tricked out of the fawn ; and instead of it, to his mortification, bread and cheese, and small beer, his old diet ; however Thomas vowed within himself to revenge it the first opportunity.
A little while after, the 'squire (who was going to pay his addresses to a young lady) gave orders to Thomas to get the carriage, together with the horses and harness, well cleaned. Thomas obeyed the order, and on the road from the stable to the 'squire's house, he met a man with a small sand-cart, drawn by two remarkable fine jack-asses. · Thomas insisted upon an
exchange, the horses for the asses, which being obtained, he cut all his master's fine harness to pieces to fit these Arabian ponies, as he styled them. Matters being completed, he drove up boldly to the 'squire’s, and knocked at the gate ; the porter perceive ing the droll figure his master's equipage cut, burst out into an immoderate fit of laughter ! Cup cup,' says Thomas, what's the fool laughing at?—Go and acquaint the 'squire his carriage is ready.'
Shortly after the 'squire came, and seeing his carriage so beautifully adorned with cattle, was struck with astonishment. • Why, what the devil,' quoth the 'squire, ' have you got harnessed to my carriage ! "I will tell you,' says Thomas. As I was driving from your stables to the gate, I met a fellow driving a sand-cart, drawn by these two fine Arabian ponies, and knowing you to be fond of good cattle, I gave your horses for these two fine creatures ; they draw well, and are ornaments to your carriage ; only observe what fine ears they have got ?' 'D-n their ears and ornaments too,' says the ’squire: 'why, the fellow's mad! “What! cries Thomas, do you grumble ? "Grumble,' quoth the 'squire,' by G-d I think it is high time to grumble : the next thing, I suppose my carriage is to be given away for a sand.cart ?
On Thomas procuring the horses again, he paid him his wages and forfeit-money, being heartily tired of the oddity of his whims, and declared that Thomas the London coachman, was the drollest dog he ever met with.
THE SPOUTING CLUB.
The spirit too, clear'd from his deadly white,
DOUGLAS TO LORD RANDOLPH.
My name is Norval: on the Grampian hills