The Expedition of Humphry ClinkerSmollett, T. (Tobias)
General
The Expedition of Humphry Clinker
Smollett, T. (Tobias)
Epistolary fiction; Great Britain -- Fiction; Travelers -- Fiction
I am astonished that Dr Lewis should take upon him to give away
Alderney, without my privity and concurrants--What signifies my
brother’s order? My brother is little better than Noncompush. He would
give away the shirt off his back, and the teeth out of his head; nay, as
for that matter; he would have ruinated the family with his ridiculous
charities, if it had not been for my four quarters--What between his
willfullness and his waste, his trumps, and his frenzy, I lead the life
of an indented slave. Alderney gave four gallons a-day, ever since the
calf was sent to market. There is so much milk out of my dairy, and the
press must stand still: but I won’t loose a cheese pairing; and the milk
shall be made good, if the sarvents should go without butter. If they
must needs have butter, let them make it of sheep’s milk; but then my
wool will suffer for want of grace; so that I must be a loser on all
sides. Well, patience is like a stout Welsh poney; it bears a great
deal, and trots a great way; but it will tire at the long run. Before
its long, perhaps I may shew Matt, that I was not born to be the
household drudge to my dying day--Gwyn rites from Crickhowel, that the
price of flannel is fallen three-farthings an ell; and that’s another
good penny out of my pocket. When I go to market to sell, my commodity
stinks; but when I want to buy the commonest thing, the owner pricks
it up under my nose; and it can’t be had for love nor money--I think
everything runs cross at Brambleton-hall--You say the gander has broke
the eggs; which is a phinumenon I don’t understand: for when the fox
carried off the old goose last year, he took her place, and hatched the
eggs, and partected the goslings like a tender parent--Then you tell me
the thunder has soured two barrels of beer in the seller. But how the
thunder should get there, when the seller was double-locked, I can’t
comprehend. Howsomever, I won’t have the beer thrown out, till I see it
with my own eyes. Perhaps, it will recover--At least it will serve for
vinegar to the servants.--You may leave off the fires in my brother’s
chamber and mine, as it is unsartain when we return.--I hope, Gwyllim,
you’ll take care there is no waste; and have an eye to the maids, and
keep them to their spinning. I think they may go very well without beer
in hot weather--it serves only to inflame the blood, and set them
a-gog after the men. Water will make them fair and keep them cool and
tamperit. Don’t forget to put up in the portmantel, that cums with
Williams, along with my riding-habit, hat, and feather, the viol of purl
water, and the tincktur for my stomach; being as how I am much troubled
with flutterencies. This is all at present, from
Yours, TABITHA BRAMBLE BATH, April 26.
To Dr LEWIS.
DEAR DICK,
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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