CHAP. I.

I

n the centrical part of a small village, not an hundred and fifty miles from the capital, resided my old uncle Peter Tweazy, one of the most petulant and unprepossessing of human beings, but so eminently endowed with the favours of fortune, that not a mushroom-picker or a plough-boy passed his gate, without dropping a bob-curtsey or a hob-nail scrape and a nod, if they could but discover the tip of Squire Tweazy’s red velvet

night-cap through any window in the house; or if that was not the case, they mechanically bowed to the gate itself; for they were told always to homage the squire, as he could, when he pleased, be bountiful to the children of indigence.

Petulant beyond all idea, he was literally a living monument of self perplexity; for having been crossed in love in the early part of life, he had never forgot the disappointment, and was now in his sixty-fifth year, the most ill-natured man in existence, and certainly one of the most unpleasant companions upon earth. If he frowned, every brow must instantly contract; if perchance he forced a smile, every body must dilate their muscles from a simper to a broad grin; in short, the whole world must conform to his humour, though he took especial care never to conform to any body’s.

One poor slave in the shape of a housekeeper, who had patiently borne the yoke of his troublesome services thirty years, and old Geoffry, who officiated in the united capacities of butler, groom, valet, and gardener, composed the favourites of the family, with the exception only of Alice the cook, whom he boasted could alike dress him a turtle or potatoe in perfection, a qualification which few women possessed; and my poor uncle being a great epicure, Mrs. Alice’s culinary talents were highly prized by her master, which with the occasional promise of being scratched down in one corner of his will, as a reward for past services, made her doubly diligent.

Now, though my uncle was excessively morose, he could, when the humour suited, be sociable with his neighbours; and as every one was aware of his temper, they heeded not his petulance; all looked upon him as an eccentric being; the opulent admired him for his talents, which at times, when he liked his companions, he could most ably exert; and the indigent feared his frowns. So that upon the whole, his virtues counterpoised his vices, temper excepted, which overbalanced all bounds; but as people used to say, there was no knowing who might become his heir, (having quarrelled all his life with the major part of his family, my father excepted,) and I happening to have been a great favourite with him when a school boy, I determined to try my luck with the old gentleman, and accordingly, self-invited, I formed a plan of passing a fortnight with him; and receiving his most gracious answer and assent, I left London with a full determination to bear and forbear , and in thirty hours found myself at his gate.

“How is your master, Geoffry?”

“Much as usual , Sir,” and Geoffry sighed. I therefore concluded by the doleful cast of his countenance, that all was not right; however, he opened the parlour door, and in I walked, greeting the old squire, as I thought, very politely.

“How d’ye do, good Sir? I’m rejoiced to see you.”

“I guessed as much, nephew; I guessed as much, by your being in too great a hurry to wipe your shoes, but I can assure you, my servants won’t rejoice at the trouble of cleaning the hall; you have made more dirt in one moment, than I do in a year.”

“I beg ten thousand pardons, Sir.”

“Pshaw, boy!” (and he curled up his nose like a snarling dog) “that’s nine hundred and ninety-nine too many. Why exaggerate? Why talk nonsense?”

“Wrong again,” said I to myself; “well, but how do you find yourself, Sir?” and I ventured to take a chair.

“Why, I find myself every thing I should not be; a mere composition of pain and perplexity; every body and every thing conspires to torment me. How’s your father and mother, hey, boy?”

“Charming, Sir, I thank you.”

“Charming?” repeated my uncle with a sarcastic drawl, “that is impossible.”

“I must beg leave to differ from you in that point, Sir; there are not two more worthy people on earth than my father and mother.”

“Different people, different opinions,” rejoined my uncle, carelessly taking a pinch of snuff. “Any news in town, child?”

“Nothing particular, Sir.”

“Aye, we live in a sad world; I’m sick of it.”

“Very troublesome times, indeed, Sir,” replied I, most humbly acquiescent.

“Not troublesome at all, if a parcel of foolish headstrong folks did not trouble themselves with what don’t concern them; but pray don’t talk politics in my presence; it’s a subject I detest. Well, but now you haven’t told how your father and mother do?”

“Both well, Sir; they have sent you a turbot, of which they beg your acceptance.”

“Humph! Why did they do that, child, when it’s the only fish I detest; I can’t bear the very name of it.”

“Bless me, how unlucky!” exclaimed I.

“Not at all,” replied my uncle; “I shall make a present of it to the parson; he won’t think it unlucky, I’ll be bound; so it’s all mighty well, if it’s honestly paid for.”

This sarcasm uttered with much gravity, gave my temper a fillip; but I swallowed the pill, and directing my eye towards the garden, I observed how delightfully pleasant it appeared.

“I don’t think it looks pleasant at all,” said my uncle.

“It’s a delightful day, Sir.”

“By no means; it’s too sultry; it’s going to rain; there’s a nasty blight hanging in the air.”

“Well, I’m no great judge, to be sure, Sir.”

“So it’s a sign; you need not have blown a cracked trumpet.”

“Why, I’m a cockney to be sure, Sir.”

“So much the better,” said my uncle; “an honest cockney can never be a bad man.”

Unfortunately, at this moment I happened to stretch my listless form upon the chair, and slid one of my legs across the marble hearth.

“Mercy defend me!” exclaimed my uncle, “is that the new fashioned way of sitting on a chair, or are you inventing caricature postures? See, your shoes are sprawled over my hearth. If I had wanted the polish rasped off in that manner, I could have sent for one of my plough-boys.”

I begged pardon, withdrew my truant foot, seated myself in an upright posture; but, alas, having assumed the indulgence of lolling my elbow on the table, and drumming a little stave of vexation with my fingers.

“Boy! boy!” rejoined my uncle, “have a care; see how you are spoiling your coat, and ruining my bright table. What, are you making drumsticks of your fingers, on purpose to render them as dubby as a cobler’s; dear me, how terribly troublesome an unthinking person makes himself for want of a moment’s attention.”

The flush of vexation crossed my cheek, and I took out my handkerchief to erase the spots, which I began rubbing off.

“Zounds!” exclaimed my uncle, “why, the fellow’s mad; d’ye think we have not something of less value in the house than a silk handkerchief, to make a dishclout of? Ring the bell; do, pray, if you can.” Not doubting my own abilities, I seized the pull and off set such alarum as might have roused the whole village.

My uncle jumped up, stamped his feet, stopped his ears, and paced the room like a madman, till the vibration ceased, and old Geoffry stood bowing before him to know what he pleased to want.

“My hearing, my senses, a new pair of drums to my ears,” said my uncle; “I’ll tell you what, nephew, in cool blood,” (though he foamed with passion,) “if ever you ring a bell again in such a manner in my house, I’ll knock you down; you’ll excuse me, but I shall certainly knock you down.” I bowed, and assured him I should for the future be more on my guard.

“I desire you will,” continued my uncle, “or else you’ll plague my soul out. Here, Geoffry, see if you can find any thing in the house to rub these spots out with, except my best laced ruffled shirt; or if you can’t, my nephew will lend you the elbow of his new coat, or a silk handkerchief.”

Geoffry withdrew, and I again adjusted another erect position, but most unfortunately for me, he had left the door open, and my uncle requesting me to shut it, I mechanically slammed it too with my left hand.

“Plague take the fellow!” exclaimed my uncle, “I shall run wild. What d’ye mean by banging the door with one hand, as if God hadn’t given you two; one would think that you was a white-smith, trying to spoil all the locks, and wrench off the hinges to make good for trade. I never saw your equal in my life; for whether sitting still or moving, you appear to me to be committing perpetual depredation.”

Oh, how I wished myself at home! My very chair was planted with thorns; but I remembered my vow; “bear and forbear, rebellious heart!” said I, and this silent soliloquy tranquillized my rising choler; but the reflection I was to endure it for a fortnight, almost conquered my determination.