ked him the
first minute that you were in his company, and I was intimate with him
immediately.

"I say, Japhet," said he, "where did you come from?"

"The Foundling," replied I.

"Then you have no friends or relations."

"If I have, I do not know where to find them," replied I, very gravely.

"Pooh! don't be grave upon it. I hav'n't any either. I was brought up
by the parish, in the workhouse. I was found at the door of a
gentleman's house, who sent me to the overseers--I was about a year old
then. They call me a foundling, but I don't care what they call me, so
long as they don't call me too late for dinner. Father and mother,
whoever they were, when they run away from me, didn't run away with my
appetite. I wonder how long master means to play with his knife and
fork. As for Mr Brookes, what he eats wouldn't physic a snipe. What's
your other name, Japhet?"

"Newland."

"Newland--now you shall have mine in exchange: Timothy Oldmixon at your
service. They christened me after the workhouse pump, which had
`Timothy Oldmixon fecit' on it: and the overseers thought it as good a
name to give me as any other; so I was christened after the pump-maker
with some of the pump water. As soon as I was big enough, they employed
me to pump all the water for the use of the workhouse. I worked at my
_papa_, as I called the pump, all day long. Few sons worked their
father more, or disliked him so much; and now, Japhet, you see, from
habit, I'm pumping you."

"You'll soon pump dry, then, for I've very little to tell you," replied
I; "but, tell me, what sort of a person is our master?"

"He's just what you see him, never alters, hardly ever out of humour,
and when he is, he is just as odd as ever. He very often threatens me,
but I have never had a blow yet, although Mr Brookes has complained
once or twice."

"But surely Mr Brookes is not cross?"

"No, he is a very good gentleman; but sometimes I carry on my rigs a
little too far, I must say that. For as Mr Brookes says, people may
die for want of the medicines, because I put down my basket to play.
It's very true; but I can't give up `peg in the ring' on that account.
But then I only get a box of the ear from Mr Brookes, and that goes for
nothing. Mr Cophagus shakes his stick, and says, `Bad boy--big stick--
um--won't forget--next time--and so on,'" continued Timothy, laughing;
"and it is so on, to the end of the chapter."

By this time Mr Cophagus and his a