Tim, being (I suppose) out of credit with
the cordwainer, fell upon this ingenious expedient to supply the
want of shoes, knowing that Mr Birkin, who loves humour, would
himself relish the joke upon a little recollection. Cropdale
literally lives by his wit, which he has exercised upon all his
friends in their turns. He once borrowed my poney for five or six
days to go to Salisbury, and sold him in Smithfield at his
return. This was a joke of such a serious nature, that, in the
first transports of my passion, I had some thoughts of
prosecuting him for horse-stealing; and even
when my resentment had in some measure subsided, as he
industriously avoided me, I vowed, I would take satisfaction on
his ribs with the first opportunity. One day, seeing him at some
distance in the street, coming towards me, I began to prepare my
cane for action, and walked in the shadow of a porter, that he
might not perceive me soon enough to make his escape; but, in the
very instant I had lifted up the instrument of correction, I
found Tim Cropdale metamorphosed into a miserable blind wretch,
feeling his way with a long stick from post to post, and rolling
about two bald unlighted orbs instead of eyes.
Pages:
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242