In order to render the minutes shorter, and, possibly in indulgence to
a powerful propensity to talk, of which he who wielded the needle was
somewhat the subject, but few of the passing moments were suffered to
escape without a word from one or the other of the parties. As the
subject of their discourse had a direct reference to the principal
matter of our tale, we shall take leave to give such portions of it to
the reader as we deem most relevant to a clear exposition of that which
is to follow. The latter will always bear in mind, that he who worked
was a man drawing into the wane of life; that he bore about him the
appearance of one who, either from incompetency or from some fatality
of fortune, had been doomed to struggle through the world, keeping
poverty from his residence only by the aid of great industry and rigid
frugality; and that the idler was a youth of an age and condition that
the acquisition of an entire set of habiliments formed to him a sort of
era in his adventures.
“Yes.” exclaimed the indefatigable shaper of cloth, with a species of
sigh which might have been equally construed into an evidence of the
fulness of his mental enjoyment, or of the excess of his bodily
labours; “yes, smarter sayings have seldom fallen from the lips of man,
than such as the squire pour’d out this very day. When he spoke of the
plains of father Abraham, and of the smoke and thunder of the battle,
Pardon, it stirred up such stomachy feelings in my bosom, that I verily
believe I could have had the heart to throw aside the thimble, and go
forth myself, to seek glory in battling in the cause of the King.”
The youth, whose Christian or ‘given’ name, as it is even now generally
termed in New-England, had been intended, by his pious sponsors, humbly
to express his future hopes, turned his head towards the heroic tailor,
with an expression of drollery about the eye, that proved nature had
not been niggardly in the gift of humour, however the quality was
suppressed by the restraints of a very peculiar manner, and no less
peculiar education.
“There’s an opening now, neighbour Homespun, for an ambitious man,” he
said, “sin’ his Majesty has lost his stoutest general.”
“Yes, yes,” returned the individual who, either in his youth or in his
age, had made so capital a blunder in the choice of a profession, “a
fine and promising chance it is for one who counts but five-and-twenty;
most of my day has gone by, and I must spend the rest of it here, where
you see me, between buckram and osnaburghs—who put the dye into your
cloth, Pardy? it is the best laid-in bark I’ve fingered this fall.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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