University of Virginia Library

LETTER II.

About the time in which these
first attempts were making, and the fame
of them had raised much jealousy among
some, and much expectation among others,
there happened a sad quarrel in John
Bull's family. His mother,[1] poor woman,

had been seized with hysteric sits,
which caused her at times to be delirious
and full of all forts of whims. She had
taken it into her head that every one of
the family must hold knife and fork
and spoon exactly alike; that they
must all wash their hands and face
precisely in the same manner; that
they must sit, stand, walk, kneel, bow,
spit, blow their noses, and perform
every other animal function by the exact
rule of uniformity, which she had drawn
up with her own hand, and from which
they were not allowed to vary one hair's
breadth. If any one of the family complained
of a lame ancle or stiff knee, or
had the crick in his neck, or happened to
cut his finger, or was any other way so
disabled as not to perform his duty to a
tittle, she was so far from making the least
allowance, that she would frown and scold
and rave like a bedlamite; and John was
such an obedient son to his mother, that
he would lend her his hand to box their
ears, or his foot to kick their backsides,
for not complying with her humours.
This way of proceeding raised an uproar
in the family; for though most of them
complied, either through affection for the
old lady, or through fear, or some other
motive, yet others looked sour, and grumbled;
some would openly find fault and
attempt to remonstrate, but they were answered
with a kick or a thump, or a cat-o'nine
tails, or shut up in a dark garret
'till they promised a compliance. Such
was the logic of the family in those days!

Among the number of the disaffected,
was Peregrine Pickle,[2] a pretty clever sort of
a fellow about his business, but a great lover
of sour crout, and of an humour that
would not bear contradiction. However,
as he knew it would be fruitless to enter
into a downright quarrel, and yet
could not live there in peace; he had so

much prudence as to quit the house,
which he did by getting out of the window
in the night. Not liking to be out
of employ, he went to the house of Nic
Frog,[3] his master's old friend and rival,
told him the story of his sufferings, and
got leave to employ himself in one of his
workshops till the storm should be over.
After he had been here a while, he
thought Nick's family were as much too
loose in their manners as Bull's were too
strict; and having heard a rumour of the
Forest, to which Nick had some kind of
claim, he packed up his little all, and
hired one of Nick's servants who had
been there a hunting, to pilot him to that
part of the Forest to which Nick laid
claim. But Frog had laid an anchor to
windward of him; for as Pickle had said
nothing to him about a lease, he supposed
that when Peregrine had got into the Forest
he would take a lease of his old master,
Bull, which would strengthen his title,
and weaken his own; he therefore bribed
the pilot to shew Peregrine to a barren
part of the Forest instead of that fertile
place[4] to which he had already sent his
surveyors, and of which he was contriving
to get possession. Accordingly the pilot
having conducted Pickle to a sandy point
which runs into the lake,[5] it being the
dusk of the evening,[6] bade him good
night, and walked off. Peregrine, who
was fatigued with his march, laid down
and went to sleep, but waking in the
morning, saw himself alone in a very dreary
situation, where he could get nothing
to live upon but clams, and a few acorns
which the squirrels had left. In this piteous
plight the poor fellow folded his
arms, and walking along the sandy beach,
fell into such a soliloquy as this. “So
much for travelling! Abused by Bull,
cheated by Frog, what am I at last come
to? Here I am alone, no creatures but
bears, and wolves, and such vermin around
me! Nothing in the shape of an human
being that I know of, nearer than Pipeweed's
plantation, and with him I cannot
agree; he is so devoted to old Dame Bull
that he and I cannot live together any
more than I could with the old woman.
But, why should I despair? That is unmanly;
there is at least a possibility of my
living here, and if I am disappointed in
my worldly prospects, it is but right, for I
professed not to have any. My wish was
to have my own way without disturbance
or contradiction, and surely I can here
enjoy my liberty. I have nobody here
to curse me, or kick me, or cheat me. If
I have only clams to eat, I can cook them
my own way, and say as long a grace over
them as I please. I can sit or stand, or kneel,
or use any other posture at my devotions,
without any cross old woman to growl at
me, or any hectoring bully to cuff me for
it. So that if I have lost in one way I
have gained in another. I had better
therefore reconcile myself to my situation
and make the best of a bad market. But
company is good! Apropos! I will write
to some of my fellow-apprentices; I know
they were as discontented as myself in old
Bull's family, though they did not care
to speak their minds as plainly as I did.
I'll tell them how much happiness I enjoy
here in my solitude. I'll point out
to them the charms of liberty, and coax
them to follow me into the wilderness;
and by and by, when we get all together,
we shall make a brave hand of it.” Full
of this resolution, he sat down on a wind-fallen
tree, and pulling out his inkhorn
and paper, wrote a letter to John Codline,
Humphry Ploughshare, and Roger Carrier,
three of his fellow-apprentices, informing
them of the extreme happiness he enjoyed
in having liberty to eat his scanty
meals in his own way, and to lay his
swelled ancles and stiff knee in whatever
posture was most easy to him, conjuring
them by their former friendship, to come
to join them in carrying on the good work
so happily begun, &c. &c. As soon as he
had finished the letter, (which had deeply
engaged his attention) a huntsman
happened to come along in quest of game.
This was a lucky circumstance indeed, for
Peregrine had not once thought of a conveyance
for his letter; it proved also favourable
to him in another view, for the
huntsman taking pity on his forlorn situation,
spared him some powder and shot
and a few biscuit which he happened to
have in his pocket; so taking charge of
the letter, he delivered it as it was directed.

This letter arrived in good season, for
old Madam had grown much worse since
Pickle had left the family: her vapours
had increased, and her longings and aversions
were much stronger. She had a
strange lurch for embroidered petticoats
and high waving plumes; her Christmas
pies must have double the quantity of

spice that was usual; the servants must
make three bows where they formerly
made but one, and they must never come
into her presence without having curled
and powdered their hair in the pink of the
mode, for she had an aversion to every
thing plain, and an high relish for every
thing gaudy. Besides, she had an high
mettled chaplain[7] who was constantly at
her elbow, and said prayers night and
morning in a brocaded vest with a gilded
mitre on his head; and he exacted so many
bows and scrapes of every one in the
family, that it would have puzzled a French
dancing master to have kept pace with
him. Nor would he perform the service
at all unless a verger stood by him all the
while with a yard-wand in his hand; and
if any servant or apprentice missed one
bow or scrape, or made it at the wrong
time, or dared to look off his book, or
said Amen in the wrong place, rap went
the stick over his head and ears or knuckles.
It was in vain to appeal from the
chaplain or the old Dame to their master,
for he was so obedient a son that he suffered
them to govern him as they pleased;
nay, though broad hints were given
that the chaplain was an emissary of lord
Peter, and was taking advantage of the
old lady's hysterics to bring the whole
family into his interest, John gave no
heed to any of these insinuations.

As soon as the letter of Peregrine Pickle
arrived, the apprentices, to whom it
was directed, held a consultation what
they should do. They were heartily tired
of the conduct of the chaplain; they
lamented the old lady's ill health, and
wished for a cure; but there was at present
no hope of it, and they concluded
that it was best to follow Pickle's advice,
and retire with him into the Forest.
Though they were infected with the spirit
of adventure, yet they were a set of wary
fellows, and knew they could not with
safety venture thither unless they had a

lease of the land. Happily, however, for
them, Bull had a little while before that
put the affairs of the Forest into the
hands of a gentleman of the law,[8] with
orders to see that the matter was properly
managed, so as to yield him some certain
profit. To this sage they applied, and
for the proper fees, which they clubbed
for between them, they obtained a lease,
under hand and seal; wherein, for “sundry
causes him thereunto moving, the said
Bull did grant and convey unto John
Codline and his associates, so many acres
of his Forest, bounded so and so, and
which they were to have, hold, and enjoy
for ever and ever, yielding and paying so
and so, and so forth.” When this grand
point was gained by the assistance of the
lawyer and his clerks, who knew how to
manage business, the adventurers sold all
their superfluities to the pawn brokers,
and got together what things they supposed
they should want, and leaving be
hind them a note on the compter,[9] to tell
their master where they were bound, and
what were their designs: they set off all
together and got safe into a part of the
Forest adjoining to Pickle, who hearing
of their arrival, took his oaken staff in his
hand and hobbled along as fast as his lame
legs could carry him to see them, and a
joyful meeting indeed they had. Having
laid their heads together, it was agreed
that Codline should send for a girl
whom he had courted,[10] and marry her,
and that he should be considered as the
lord of the manor, that Pickle should have
a lease of that part which he had pitched
upon, and that Ploughshare and Carrier
should for the present be considered as
members of Codline's family. John had
taken a great fancy to fishing, and thought
he could wholly or chiefly subsist by it;
but Humphry had a mind for a farm;
so after a while they parted in friendship.
Humphry, with a pack on his back and a
spade in his hand, travelled across the Forest
till he found a wide meadow with a
large brook[11] running through it, which he
supposed to be within John's grant, and
intended still to consider himself as a distant
member of the family. But as it fell
out otherwise, he was obliged to get a
new lease, to which Mr. Frog made some
objections, but they were over ruled;
and soon after another old fellow servant,
Tobias Wheatear,[12] came and sat
down by him. They being so much alike
in their views and dispositions, agreed
to live together as intimates, though in
two families, which they did till Wheatear's
death, when Ploughshare became his
sole heir, and the estate has ever since been
his. This Humphry was always a very
industrious, frugal, saving husband; and
his wife, though a formal strait laced sort
of a body, yet always minded her spinning
and knitting, and took excellent care of
her dairy. She always clothed her children
in homespun garments, and scarcely
ever spent a farthing for outlandish trinkets.
The family and all its concerns were
under very exact regulations: not one of
them was suffered to peep out of doors after
the sun was set. It was never allowed
to brew on Saturday, left the beer
should break the Fourth Commandment
by working on Sunday: and once it is
said the stallion was impounded a whole
week for having held crim. con. with the
mare while the Old Gentleman was at his
devotions. Bating these peculiarities,
(and every body has some) Humphry was
a very good sort of man, a kind neighbor,
very thriving, and made a respectable
figure, though he lived a retired life, and
did not much follow the fashions, yet he
raised a good estate, and brought up a
large family, who knew how to get their
living wherever they could find land.