Notwithstanding these high and beneficent gifts, their possessor was
now as unconsciously engaged in that portion of his professional
labours which bore the strongest resemblance to the occupation of a
scrivener, as though nature, in bestowing such rare endowments had
denied him the phrenological quality of self-esteem. A critical
observer might, however, have seen, or fancied that he saw, in the
forced humility of his countenance, certain gleamings of a triumph that
should not properly be traced to the fall of Quebec. The habit of
appearing meek had, however, united with a frugal regard for the
precious and irreclaimable minutes, in producing this extraordinary
diligence in a pursuit of a character that was so humble, when compared
with his recent mental efforts.
Leaving this gifted favourite of fortune and nature, we shall pass to
an entirely different individual, and to another quarter of the place.
The spot, to which we wish now to transport the reader, was neither
more nor less than the shop of a tailor, who did not disdain to perform
the most minute offices of his vocation in his own heedful person. The
humble edifice stood at no great distance from the water, in the skirts
of the town, and in such a situation as to enable its occupant to look
out upon the loveliness of the inner basin, and, through a vista cut by
the element between islands, even upon the lake-like scenery of the
outer harbour. A small, though little frequented wharf lay before his
door, while a certain air of negligence, and the absence of bustle,
sufficiently manifested that the place itself was not the immediate
site of the much-boasted commercial prosperity of the port.
The afternoon was like a morning in spring, the breeze which
occasionally rippled the basin possessing that peculiarly bland
influence which is so often felt in the American autumn; and the worthy
mechanic laboured at his calling, seated on his shop board, at an open
window, far better satisfied with himself than many of those whose
fortune it is to be placed in state, beneath canopies of velvet and
gold. On the outer side of the little building, a tall, awkward, but
vigorous and well-formed countryman was lounging, with one shoulder
placed against the side of the shop, as if his legs found the task of
supporting his heavy frame too grievous to be endured with out
assistance, seemingly in waiting for the completion of the garment at
which the other toiled, and with which he intended to adorn the graces
of his person, in an adjoining parish, on the succeeding sabbath.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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