Now we are upon the subject of parsons, I must tell you a
ludicrous adventure, which was achieved the other day by Tom
Eastgate, whom you may remember on the foundation of Queen's. He
had been very assiduous to pin himself upon George Prankley, who
was a gentleman-commoner of Christchurch, knowing the said
Prankley was heir to a considerable estate, and would have the
advowson of a good living, the incumbent of which was very old
and infirm. He studied his passions, and flattered them so
effectually, as to become his companion and counsellor; and, at
last, obtained of him a promise of the presentation, when the
living should fall. Prankley, on his uncle's death, quitted
Oxford, and made his first appearance in the fashionable world at
London; from whence he came lately to Bath, where he has been
exhibiting himself among the bucks and gamesters of the place.
Eastgate followed him hither; but he should not have quitted him
for a moment, at his first emerging into life. He ought to have
known he was a fantastic, foolish, fickle fellow, who would
forget his college-attachments the moment they ceased appealing
to his senses. Tom met with a cold reception from his old friend;
and was, moreover, informed, that he had promised the living to
another man, who had a vote in the county, where he proposed to
offer himself a candidate at the next general election.
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