t be mistaken; none but a rogue can deny it." It has
been observed that such people are oftener in the wrong than anybody.

Though she had a thousand good qualities, she was not without her
faults, amongst which one might, perhaps, reckon too great lenity to
her servants, to whom she always gave good counsel, but often too
gentle correction. I thought I could not say less of John Bull's mother,
because she bears a part in the following transactions.

CHAPTER II. The Character of John Bull's Sister Peg,* with the Quarrels
that happened between Master and Miss in their Childhood.

* The nation and Church of Scotland.

John had a sister, a poor girl that had been starved at nurse. Anybody
would have guessed Miss to have been bred up under the influence of a
cruel stepdame, and John to be the fondling of a tender mother. John
looked ruddy and plump, with a pair of cheeks like a trumpeter; Miss
looked pale and wan, as if she had the green sickness; and no wonder,
for John was the darling: he had all the good bits, was crammed with
good pullet, chicken, pig, goose, and capon; while Miss had only a
little oatmeal and water, or a dry crust without butter. John had his
golden pippins, peaches, and nectarines; poor Miss, a crab-apple, sloe,
or a blackberry. Master lay in the best apartment, with his bedchamber
towards the south sun. Miss lodged in a garret exposed to the north
wind, which shrivelled her countenance. However, this usage, though it
stunted the girl in her growth, gave her a hardy constitution; she had
life and spirit in abundance, and knew when she was ill-used. Now and
then she would seize upon John's commons, snatch a leg of a pullet, or
a bit of good beef, for which they were sure to go to fisticuffs. Master
was indeed too strong for her, but Miss would not yield in the least
point; but even when Master had got her down, she would scratch and bite
like a tiger; when he gave her a cuff on the ear, she would prick him
with her knitting-needle. John brought a great chain one day to tie her
to the bedpost, for which affront Miss aimed a penknife at his heart. In
short, these quarrels grew up to rooted aversions; they gave one another
nicknames, though the girl was a tight clever wench as any was, and
through her pale looks you might discern spirit and vivacity, which made
her not, indeed, a perfect beauty, but something that was agreeable. It
was barbarous in parents not to take notice of these early quar