The History and Remarkable Life of the Truly Honourable Colonel Jacque, Commonly Called Colonel JackDefoe, Daniel
General
The History and Remarkable Life of the Truly Honourable Colonel Jacque, Commonly Called Colonel Jack
Defoe, Daniel
Adventure stories, English; England -- Social life and customs -- 18th century -- Fiction; Picaresque fiction
“So we will, then,” says the major; “I am hungry too.” So we went to a
boiling cook’s in Rosemary Lane, where we treated ourselves nobly, and,
as I thought with myself, we began to live like gentlemen, for we had
three pennyworth of boiled beef, two pennyworth of pudding, a penny
brick (as they call it, or loaf), and a whole pint of strong beer,
which was sevenpence in all.
_N.B_.—We had each of us a good mess of charming beef-broth into the
bargain; and, which cheered my heart wonderfully, all the while we were
at dinner, the maid and the boy in the house, every time they passed by
the open box where we sat at our dinner, would look in and cry,
“Gentlemen, do you call?” and “Do ye call, gentlemen?” I say, this was
as good to me as all my dinner.
Not the best housekeeper in Stepney parish, not my Lord Mayor of
London, no, not the greatest man on earth, could be more happy in their
own imagination, and with less mixture of grief or reflection, than I
was at this new piece of felicity; though mine was but a small part of
it, for Major Jacque had an estate compared to me, as I had an estate
compared to what I had before; in a word, nothing but an utter
ignorance of greater felicity, which was my case, could make anybody
think himself so exalted as I did, though I had no share of this booty
but eighteenpence.
That night the major and I triumphed in our new enjoyment, and slept
with an undisturbed repose in the usual place, surrounded with the
warmth of the glass-house fires above, which was a full amends for all
the ashes and cinders which we rolled in below.
Those who know the position of the glass-houses, and the arches where
they neal the bottles after they are made, know that those places where
the ashes are cast, and where the poor boys lie, are cavities in the
brickwork, perfectly close, except at the entrance, and consequently
warm as the dressing-room of a bagnio, that it is impossible they can
feel any cold there, were it in Greenland or Nova Zembla, and that
therefore the boys lie there not only safe, but very comfortably, the
ashes excepted, which are no grievance at all to them.
The next day the major and his comrades went abroad again, and were
still successful; nor did any disaster attend them, for I know not how
many months; and, by frequent imitation and direction, Major Jacque
became as dexterous a pickpocket as any of them, and went on through a
long variety of fortunes, too long to enter upon now, because I am
hastening to my own story, which at present is the main thing I have to
set down.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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