|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 41
Loitering in the wood till nightfall, he then stole out and made the
best of his way towards the house of that good natured farmer in whose
corn-loft he had received his first message from Squire Woodcock.
Rousing this man up a little before midnight, he informed him somewhat
of his recent adventures, but carefully concealed his having been
employed as a secret courier, together with his escape from Squire
Woodcock's. All he craved at present was a meal. The meal being over,
Israel offered to buy from the farmer his best suit of clothes, and
displayed the money on the spot.
"Where did you get so much money?" said his entertainer in a tone of
surprise; "your clothes here don't look as if you had seen prosperous
times since you left me. Why, you look like a scarecrow."
"That may well be," replied Israel, very soberly. "But what do you say?
will you sell me your suit?--here's the cash."
"I don't know about it," said the farmer, in doubt; "let me look at the
money. Ha!--a silk purse come out of a beggars pocket!--Quit the house,
rascal, you've turned thief."
Thinking that he could not swear to his having come by his money with
absolute honesty--since indeed the case was one for the most subtle
casuist--Israel knew not what to reply. This honest confusion confirmed
the farmer, who with many abusive epithets drove him into the road,
telling him that he might thank himself that he did not arrest him on
the spot.
In great dolor at this unhappy repulse, Israel trudged on in the
moonlight some three miles to the house of another friend, who also had
once succored him in extremity. This man proved a very sound sleeper.
Instead of succeeding in rousing him by his knocking, Israel but
succeeded in rousing his wife, a person not of the greatest amiability.
Raising the sash, and seeing so shocking a pauper before her, the woman
upbraided him with shameless impropriety in asking charity at dead of
night, in a dress so improper too. Looking down at his deplorable
velveteens, Israel discovered that his extensive travels had produced a
great rent in one loin of the rotten old breeches, through which a
whitish fragment protruded.
Remedying this oversight as well as he might, he again implored the
woman to wake her husband.
"That I shan't!" said the woman, morosely. "Quit the premises, or I'll
throw something on ye."
With that she brought some earthenware to the window, and would have
fulfilled her threat, had not Israel prudently retreated some paces.
Here he entreated the woman to take mercy on his plight, and since she
would not waken her husband, at least throw to him (Israel) her
husband's breeches, and he would leave the price of them, with his own
breeches to boot, on the sill of the door.
"You behold how sadly I need them," said he; "for heaven's sake befriend
me."
"Quit the premises!" reiterated the woman.
"The breeches, the breeches! here is the money," cried Israel, half
furious with anxiety.
"Saucy cur," cried the woman, somehow misunderstanding him; "do you
cunningly taunt me with _wearing_ the breeches'? begone!"
Once more poor Israel decamped, and made for another friend. But here a
monstrous bull-dog, indignant that the peace of a quiet family should be
disturbed by so outrageous a tatterdemalion, flew at Israel's
unfortunate coat, whose rotten skirts the brute tore completely off,
leaving the coat razeed to a spencer, which barely came down to the
wearer's waist. In attempting to drive the monster away, Israel's hat
fell off, upon which the dog pounced with the utmost fierceness, and
thrusting both paws into it, rammed out the crown and went snuffling the
wreck before him. Recovering the wretched hat, Israel again beat a
retreat, his wardrobe sorely the worse for his visits. Not only was his
coat a mere rag, but his breeches, clawed by the dog, were slashed into
yawning gaps, while his yellow hair waved over the top of the crownless
beaver, like a lonely tuft of heather on the highlands.
In this plight the morning discovered him dubiously skirmishing on the
outskirts of a village.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|