ing
me forward. My grandfather (who was laid up with the gout) received this
relation, after his long absence, with that coldness of civility which
was peculiar to him; told him he was glad to see him, and desired him to
sit down. "Thank ye, thank ye, sir, I had as lief stand," said my
uncle; "for my own part, I desire nothing of you; but, if you have any
conscience at all, do something for this poor boy, who has been used at
a very unchristian rate. Unchristian do I call it? I am sure the Moors
in Barbary have more humanity than to leave their little ones to want.
I would fain know why my sister's son is more neglected than that there
fair-weather Jack" (pointing to the young squire, who with the rest of
my cousins had followed us into the room). "Is not he as near akin to
you as the other? Is he not much handsomer and better built than that
great chucklehead? Come, come, consider, old gentleman, you are going
in a short time to give an account of your evil actions. Remember the
wrongs you did his father, and make all the satisfaction in your power
before it be too late. The least thing you can do is to settle his
father's portion on him" The young ladies, who thought themselves too
much concerned to contain themselves any longer, set up their
throats all together against my protector--"Scurvy companion--saucy
tarpaulin--rude, impertinent fellow, did he think to prescribe to
grandpapa? His sister's brat had been too well taken care of. Grandpapa
was too just not make a difference between an unnatural, rebellious son
and his dutiful, loving children, who took his advice in all things;"
and such expressions were vented against him with great violence; until
the judge at length commanded silence. He calmly rebuked my uncle for
his unmannerly behaviour, which he said he would excuse on account of
his education: he told him he had been very kind to the boy, whom he had
kept at school seven or eight years, although he was informed he made no
progress in his learning but was addicted to all manner of vice, which
he rather believed, because he himself was witness to a barbarous piece
of mischief he had committed on the jaws of his chaplain. But, however,
he would see what the lad was fit for, and bind him apprentice to some
honest tradesman or other, provided he would mend his manners, and
behave for the future as became him. The honest tar (whose pride and
indignation boiled within him) answered my grandfather, that it was true