_Pereg._ I will. 'Tis just thirty years ago, since I left England. _Job._ That's a little after the time I set up in the hardware business. _Pereg._ About that time, a lad of fifteen years entered your shop: he had the appearance of a gentleman's son; and told you he had heard, by accident, as he was wandering through the streets of Penzance, some of your neighbours speak of Job Thornberry's goodness to persons in distress. _Job._ I believe he told a lie there. _Pereg._ Not in that instance, though he did in another. _Job._ I remember him. He was a fine, bluff, boy! _Pereg._ He had lost his parents, he said; and, destitute of friends, money, and food, was making his way to the next port, to offer himself to any vessel that would take him on board, that he might work his way abroad, and seek a livelihood. _Job._ Yes, yes; he did. I remember it. _Pereg._ You may remember, too, when the boy had finished his tale of distress, you put ten guineas in his hand. They were the first earnings of your trade, you told him, and could not be laid out to better advantage than in relieving a helpless orphan;--and, giving him a letter of recommendation to a sea captain at Falmouth, you wished him good spirits, and prosperity. He left you with a promise, that, if fortune ever smil'd upon him, you should, one day, hear news of Peregrine. _Job._ Ah, poor fellow! poor Peregrine! he was a pretty boy. I should like to hear news of him, I own. _Pereg._ I am that Peregrine. _Job._ Eh? what--you are--? No: let me look at you again. Are you the pretty boy, that------bless us, how you are alter'd! _Pereg._ I have endur'd many hardships since I saw you; many turns of fortune;--but I deceived you (it was the cunning of a truant lad) when I told you I had lost my parents. From a romantic folly, the growth of boyish brains, I had fix'd my fancy on being a sailor, and had run away from my father. _Job._ [_With great Emotion._] Run away from your father! If I had known that, I'd have horse-whipp'd you, within an inch of your life! _Pereg._ Had you known it, you had done right, perhaps. _Job._ Right? Ah! you don't know what it is for a child to run away from a father! Rot me, if I wou'dn't have sent you back to him, tied, neck and heels, in the basket of the stage coach. _Pereg._ I have had my compunctions;--have express'd them by letter to my father: but I fear my penitence had no effect. _Job._ Served you right. _Pereg._ Having no answers from him, he died, I fear, without forgiving me. [_Sighing._ _Job._ [_Starting._] What! died! without forgiving his child!--Come, that's too much. I cou'dn't have done that, neither.--But, go on: I hope you've been prosperous. But you shou'dn't--you shou'dn't have quitted your father.