The Expedition of Humphry ClinkerSmollett, T. (Tobias)
General
The Expedition of Humphry Clinker
Smollett, T. (Tobias)
Epistolary fiction; Great Britain -- Fiction; Travelers -- Fiction
For my part, I knew nothing at all of what had happened, till the
postilion brought me the keys of my trunk and portmanteau, which he had
received from Dutton, who sent me his respects, hoping I would excuse
him for his abrupt departure, as it was a step upon which his fortune
depended. Before I had time to make my uncle acquainted with this
event, the Irishman burst into my chamber, without any introduction,
exclaiming,--‘By my soul, your sarvant has robbed me of five
thousand pounds, and I’ll have satisfaction, if I should be hanged
tomorrow.’--When I asked him who he was, ‘My name (said he) is Master
Macloughlin but it should be Leighlin Oneale, for I am come from
Tir-Owen the Great; and so I am as good a gentleman as any in Ireland;
and that rogue, your sarvant, said I was a taylor, which was as big
a lie as if he had called me the pope--I’m a man of fortune, and have
spent all I had; and so being in distress, Mr Coshgrave, the fashioner
in Shuffolk-street, tuck me out, and made me his own private shecretary:
by the same token, I was the last he bailed; for his friends obliged him
to tie himself up, that he would bail no more above ten pounds; for why,
becaase as how, he could not refuse any body that asked, and therefore
in time would have robbed himself of his whole fortune, and, if he had
lived long at that rate, must have died bankrupt very soon and so I
made my addresses to Miss Skinner, a young lady of five thousand pounds
fortune, who agreed to take me for better nor worse; and, to be sure,
this day would have put me in possession, if it had not been for that
rogue, your sarvant, who came like a tief, and stole away my property,
and made her believe I was a taylor; and that she was going to marry the
ninth part of a man: but the devil burn my soul, if ever I catch him on
the mountains of Tulloghobegly, if I don’t shew him that I’m nine times
as good a man as he, or e’er a bug of his country.’
When he had rung out his first alarm, I told him I was sorry he had
allowed himself to be so jockied; but it was no business of mine; and
that the fellow who robbed him of his bride, had likewise robbed me of
my servant--‘Didn’t I tell you then (cried he) that Rogue was his true
Christian name.--Oh if I had but one fair trust with him upon the sod,
I’d give him lave to brag all the rest of his life.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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