when the company arrives. Then there's to get eady the room that you call the Elephant, for the new company, Mr. Oldbutton, and - and the last of all Tan. To get rid of that impudent Paul Pry. Bil. I'll do it, sir. Tan. Will you? it's more than I can; I have only taken this inn six months, and he's been here every day. First, he asked me where I got the money to take the house; then, if I was married; whether my wife bore an excellent character; whether my children had had the measles: and, as I wouldn't answer any of these questions. he hoped he didn't intrude, but begged to know how many lumps of sugar I put into a crown bowl of punch. Bil. Oh! sir, that's nothing to what he asked me last night; he asked me whether you gave me good wages. Well, and I hope you gave him an answer. Tan. Bil. Yes, I did, sir. Tan. What did you say ? Bil. Why, I told him my wages were like his good manners, very little of 'em; but I hoped they would both soon mend. Tan. Well, Billy, only rid me of this intolerable Paul, and your wages shall mend. Here has this Mr. Pry, although he has an establishment of his own in the town, been living and sleeping here these six days! But I'm determined to get rid of him; and do you instantly go, Billy, and affront him; do anything with him so as you make him turn his back upon the house. Eh here's a coach driven up; it is surely Mr. Oldbutton; run, Billy, run. [Exit Billy] Roaring times, these. [Billy enters, showing in Mr. Oldbutton.] Welcome, sir, most welcome to the Golden Chariot. Mr. Oldbutton. Landlord, I have some letters to answer; which is my apartment? Tan. Why, sir-confound that Paul Pry, he has the gentleman's room, and I can't get him out of it—why, sir, I did not expect you some hours yet; if you'll have the kindness to step into this apartment for a few minutes, your own room shall be properly arranged. I really beg ten thousand Mr. Old. No compliments, Mr. Landlord, and when you speak to me in future, keep yourself upright; I hate tradesmen with backs of whalebone. Tan. Why, civility, Mr. Oldbutton Mr. Old. Is this the room? [Tunkard bows. Exi Oldbutton.] Tan. Now such a customer would deeply offend a man, if he had not the ultimate satisfaction of making out his bill. [Enter Billy] Oh, you've just come in time; ask no questions; there's Mr. Pry's room; if you get him out of the house, I'll raise your wages; if you do not, you shall go yourself; now you know the terms. [Exit.] Bil. Then it is either you or myself, Mr. Pry; so here goes. [As Billy is running towards the room, he sees Pry, with his head out of the door, listening. Enter Paul Pry.] Paul Pry. Hope I don't intrude; I say, Billy, who is that old gentleman, who just came in? Bil. Old gentleman?-why, there's nobody come in. Paul. Don't fib, Billy; I saw him. Bil. You saw him!-why, how could you see him, when there's no window in the room? Paul. I always guard against such an accident, and carry a gimlet with me. [Producing one.] Nothing like making a little hole in the wainscot. Bil. Why, surely, you haven't Paul. It has been a fixed principle of my life, Billy, never to take a lodging or a house with a brick wall to it. say, tell me who is he? I Bil. [Aside.] Well. I'll tell him something. Why, if you must know, I think he's an army lieutenant, on half pay. Paul. An army lieutenant! half pay! ah! that will never afford ribbons and white feathers. Bil. Now, Mr. Pry, my master desires me to say, he can't accommodate you any longer your apartment is wanted, and really, Mr. Pry, you can't think how much you'll oblige me by going. Paul. To be sure Billy. I wouldn't wish to intrude for the world—your master's doing a great deal of business in this house what did he give for the good will of it? Tan. [Without.] Billy! Bil. There, now, I'm called--and I've to make ready the room for the Freemasons that meet to nignt—they that wouldn't admit you into their society. Paul. Yes, I know; they thought I should intrude. Tan. [Without.] Billy! Bil. Now you must go-good-by, Mr. Pry--I'm called. Paul. An army lieutenant! Who can it be? I shouldn't wonder if it's Mrs. Thomas's husband; who, she says, was killed in India! If it should be, it will break off her flirting with Mr. Cinnamon, the grocer; there's pretty doings in that quarter, for I caught the rheumatism watching them in a frosty night last winter! An army lieutenant!· Mrs. Thomas has a daughter; I'll just peep through the keyhole, and see if there's a family likeness between them. [Goes to the door and peeps.] Bless me! why, there certainly is something about the nose-oh! he's writing. [The door is suddenly opened by Oldbutton, who discovers Paul.] Paul. I hope I don't intrude-I was trying to find my apartment. Mr. Old. Was it necessary to look through the key-hole for it, sir? Paul. I'm rather short-sighted, sir; sad affliction! my poor mother was short-sighted, sir; in fact, it's a family failing; all the Prys are obliged to look close. Mr. Old. Whilst I sympathize with your distresses, sir, I trust to be exempt from the impertinence which you may attach to them. Paul. Would not intrude for the world, sir. What may be your opinion, sir, of the present state of the kingdom? How do you like peace ? It must press hard upon you gentlemen of the army; a lieutenant's half pay now is but little to make both ends meet. Mr. Old Sir! Paul. Especially when a man's benevolent to his poor relations. Now, sir, perhaps you allow something out of your five-and-six-pence a day, to your mother or maiden sis ter. Between you and me, I must tell you what I have learnt here. Mr. Old. Between you and me, sir, I must tell you what I have learnt in India. Paul. What. have you been in India? Wouldn't intrude an observation for the world; but I thought you had a yellowish look; something of an orange-peeling countenance. You've been in India? Although I'm a single man, I wouldn't ask an improper question; but is it true that the blacks employ no tailors nor milliners? If not, what do they do to keep off the flies? Mr. Old. That is what I was about to inform you; they carry canes. Now, sir, five minutes' conversation with you has fully convinced me that there are flies in England as well as in India; and that a man may be as impertinently inquisitive at Dover, as at Bengal. All I have to add is-I carry a cane. Paul. In such a case, I'm the last to intrude. I've only one question to ask-Is your name Thomas? whether you have a wife? how old she is? and where you were married? Mr. Old. Well. sir. a man may sometimes play with a puppy, as well as kick him; and if it will afford you any satisfaction learn my name is Thomas. Paul. Oh! poor Mr Cinnamon! This is going to India! Mr. T, I'm afraid you'll find that somebody here has intruded in your place-for between you and me-[Oldbutton surveys him contemptuously, and whilst Paul is talking, Oldbutton stalks off. Paul, on looking round.] Well, it isn't that I interfere much in people's concerns; if I did, how unhappy I could make that man. This Freemason's sign puzzles me; they wouldn't make me a member; but I have slept six nights in the next room to them; and, thanks to my gimlet, I know the business. There was Mr. Smith, who was only in the Gazette last week, taking his brandy and water; he can't afford that, I know. Then there was Mr. Hodgkins, who makes his poor wife and children live upon baked potatoes six days out of the week, (for I know the shop where they are cooked.) calling. like a lord, for a Welch rarebit; I only wish his creditors could see him but I don't trouble my head with these matters; if I did—eh! Why there is one of the young Jones's going again to Mr. Notick, the pawnbroker's; that's the third time this week; well, I've just time enough to run to Notick's, and see what he's brought, before I go to inquire at the post office, who in the town has letters [Exit.] XIV. FROM THE POOR GENTLEMAN.-Colman. FREDERICK-SIR ROBERT BRAMBLE-HUMPHREY DOBBINS. Frederick. Oh, my dear uncle, good morning! your park is nothing but beauty. Sir R. Who bid you caper over my beauty? I told you to stay in doors till I got up. Fred. So you did, but I entirely forgot it. Sir R. And pray, what made you forget it? Sir R. lieve. The sun! he's mad! you mean the moon, I be Fred. Oh, my dear uncle, you don't know the effect of a fine spring morning, upon a fellow just arrived from Russia. The day looked bright, trees budding. birds singing, the park was so gay, that I took a leap out of your old balcony, made your deer fly before me like the wind. and chased them all around the park to get an appetite for brea fast, while you were snoring in bed, uncle. Sir R. Oh, oh! So the effect of English sunshine upon a Russian, is to make him jump out of a balcony and worry my deer Fred. I confess it had that influence upon me. Sir R. You had better be influenced by a rich old uncle, unless you think the sun likely to leave you a fat legacy. Fred. I hate legacies. Sir R. That's mighty singular. They are pretty solid tokens at least. Fred. Very melancholy tokens, uncle; they are posthumous dispatches, affection sends to gratitude, to inform us we have lost a gracious friend. Sir R. How charmingly the dog argues! Fred. But I own my spirits ran away with me this morning. I will obey you better in future; for they tell me you are a very worthy, good sort of a gentleman. Sir R. Now, who had the familiar impudence to tell you that. Fred. Sir R. Old rusty, there. Why, Humphrey, you didn't? Hum. Yes, but I did though. Fred. Yes, he did; and on that score I shall be anxious to show you obedience, for 'tis as meritorious to attempt sharing a good man's heart as it is paltry to have designs |