Mrs Drummond came into the room and greeted me kindly. "When can you come and dine with us, Jacob? Will you come on Wednesday?"

"Oh, mamma! He can't come on Wednesday; we have company on that day."

"So we have, my dear; I had forgotten it; but on Thursday we are quite alone: will you come, then on Thursday, Jacob?"

I hesitated, for I felt that it was because I was a waterman that I was not admitted to the table where I had been accustomed to dine at one time, whoever might be invited.

"Yes, Jacob," said Sarah, coming to me, "it must be Thursday, and you must not deny us; for although we have greater people on Wednesday, the party that day will not be so agreeable to me as your company on Thursday."

The last compliment from Sarah decided me, and I accepted the invitation. Mr Drummond came in, and I delivered to him Mr Turnbull's cheque. He was very kind, but said little further than that he was glad that I had promised to dine with them on Thursday. The footman came in and announced the carriage at the door, and this was a signal for me to take my leave. Sarah, as she shook hands with me, laughing, a.s.serted that it was not considerate in them to detain me any longer, as I must have lost half-a-dozen good fares already; "So go down to your boat, pull off your jacket, and make up for lost time," continued she; "one of these days mamma and I intend to go on the water, just to patronise you." I laughed and went away, but I was cruelly mortified. I could not be equal to them, because I was a waterman. The sarcasm of Sarah was not lost upon me; still there was so much kindness mixed with it that I could not be angry with her. On the Thursday I went there, as agreed; they were quite alone; friendly and attentive; but still there was a degree of constraint which communicated itself to me. After dinner Mr Drummond said very little; there was no renewal of offers to take me into his employ, nor any inquiry as to how I got on in the profession which I had chosen. On the whole, I found myself uncomfortable, and was glad to leave early, nor did I feel at all inclined to renew my visit. I ought to remark that Mr Drummond was now moving in a very different sphere than when I first knew him. He was consignee of several large establishments abroad, and was making a rapid fortune. His establishment was also on a very different scale, every department being appointed with elegance and conducive to luxury. As I pulled up the river something within my breast told me that the Dominie's prophecy would turn out correct, and that I should one day repent of my having refused the advances of Mr Drummond--nay, I did not exactly know whether I did not, even at that moment, very much doubt the wisdom of my a.s.serting my independence.

And now, reader, that I may not surfeit you with an uninteresting detail, you may allow nearly two years to pa.s.s away before I recommence my narrative. The events of that time I shall sum up in one or two pages. The Dominie continued the even tenor of his way--blew his nose and handled his rod with as much effect as ever. I seldom pa.s.sed a Sunday without paying him a visit, and benefiting by his counsel. Mr Turnbull was always kind and considerate, but gradually declining in health, having never recovered from the effects of his submersion under the ice. Of the Drummonds I saw but little; when we did meet, I was kindly received, but I never volunteered a call, and it was usually from a message through Tom that I went to pay my respects. Sarah had grown a very beautiful girl, and the well-known fact of Mr Drummond's wealth, and her being an only daughter, was an introduction to a circle much higher than they had been formerly accustomed to. Every day, therefore, the disparity increased, and I felt less inclined to make my appearance at their house.

Stapleton, as usual, continued to smoke his pipe and descant upon _human natur'_. Mary had grown into a splendid woman, but coquettish as ever.

Poor Tom Beazeley was fairly entrapped by her charms, and was a constant attendant upon her, but she played him fast and loose--one time encouraging and smiling on him, at another rejecting and flouting him.

Still Tom persevered, for he was fascinated, and having returned me the money advanced for his wherry, he expended all his earnings on dressing himself smartly, and making presents to her. She had completely grown out of any control from me, and appeared to have a pleasure in doing everything she knew I disapproved; still, we were on fair friendly terms as inmates of the same house.

Old Tom Beazeley's board was up, and he had met with great success; and all day he might be seen hammering at the bottom of boats of every description, and heard, at the same time, lightening his labour with his variety of song. I often called there on my way up and down the river, and occasionally pa.s.sed a few hours listening to his yarns, which, like his songs, appeared to be inexhaustible.

With respect to myself, it would be more a narrative of feelings than of action. My life glided on as did my wherry--silently and rapidly. One day was but the forerunner of another, with slight variety of incident and customers. My acquaintance, as the reader knows, were but few, and my visits occasional. I again turned to my books during the long summer evenings, in which Mary would walk out, accompanied by Tom and other admirers. Mr Turnbull's library was at my service, and I profited much. After a time reading became almost a pa.s.sion, and I was seldom without a book in my hand. But although I improved my mind, I did not render myself happier. On the contrary, I felt more and more that I had committed an act of egregious folly in thus a.s.serting my independence.

I felt that I was superior to my station in life, and that I had lived with those who were not companions--that I had thrown away, by foolish pride, those prospects of advancement which had offered themselves, and that I was pa.s.sing my youth unprofitably. All this crowded upon me more and more every day, and I bitterly repented, as the Dominie told me that I should, my spirit of independence--now that it was too late. The offers of Mr Drummond were never renewed, and Mr Turnbull, who had formed the idea that I was still of the same opinion, and who, at the same time, in his afflicted state--for he was a martyr to the rheumatism--naturally thought more of himself and less of others, never again proposed that I should quit my employment. I was still too proud to mention my wishes, and thus did I continue plying on the river, apathetic almost as to gain, and only happy when, in the pages of history or among the flowers of poetry, I could dwell upon times that were past, or revel in imagination. Thus did reading, like the snake which is said to contain in its body a remedy for the poison of its fangs, become, as it enlarged my mind, a source of discontent at my humble situation; but, at the same time, the only solace in my unhappiness, by diverting my thoughts from the present. Pa.s.s, then, nearly two years, reader, taking the above remarks as an outline, and filling up the picture from the colours of your imagination, with incidents of no peculiar value, and I again resume my narrative.

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN.

A CHAPTER OF LOSSES TO ALL BUT THE READER, THOUGH AT FIRST TOM WORKS WITH HIS WIT, AND RECEIVES THE FULL VALUE OF HIS EXERTIONS--WE MAKE THE VERY WORST BARGAIN WE EVER MADE IN OUR LIVES--WE LOSE OUR FARE, WE LOSE OUR BOAT, AND WE LOSE OUR LIBERTY--ALL LOSS AND NO PROFIT--FAIR VERY UNFAIR--TWO GUINEAS WORTH OF ARGUMENT NOT WORTH TWOPENCE, EXCEPT ON THE QUARTER-DECK OF A MAN-OF-WAR.

"Jacob," said Tom to me, pulling his wherry into the _hard_, alongside of mine, in which I was sitting with one of Mr Turnbull's books in my hand; "Jacob, do you recollect that my time is up to-morrow? I shall have run off my seven years, and when the sun rises I shall be free of the river. How much more have you to serve?"

"About fifteen months, as near as I can recollect, Tom.--Boat, sir?"

"Yes; oars, my lad; be smart, for I am in a hurry. How's tide?"

"Down, sir, very soon; but it's now slack water. Tom, see if you can find Stapleton."

"Pooh! never mind him, Jacob, I'll go with you. I say, Jones, tell old '_human natur'_' to look after my boat," continued Tom, addressing a waterman of our acquaintance.

"I thought you had come up to see _her_," said I to Tom, as we shoved off.

"See _her_ at Jericho first," replied Tom "she's worse than a dog vane."

"What, are you _two_ again?"

"Two indeed--it's all two--we are two fools. She is too fanciful; I am too fond; she behaves too ill, and I put up with too much. However, it's all _one_."

"I thought it was all _two_ just now, Tom."

"But two may be made one, Jacob, you know."

"Yes, by the parson: but you are no parson."

"Anyhow, I am something like one just now," replied Tom, who was pulling the foremost oar; "for you are a good clerk, and I am sitting behind you."

"That's not so bad," observed the gentleman in the stern-sheets, whom we had forgotten in the colloquy.

"A waterman would make but a bad parson, sir," replied Tom.

"Why so?"

"He's not likely to practice as he preaches."

"Again, why so?"

"Because all his life he looks one way and pulls another."

"Very good--very good, indeed."

"Nay, sir, good in practice, but still not good _in deed_--there's a puzzle."

"A puzzle, indeed, to find such a regular chain of repartee in a wherry."

"Well, sir, if I'm a regular chain to-day, I shall be like an irregular watch to-morrow."

"Why so, my lad?"

"Because I shall be _out of my time_."

"Take that, my lad," said the gentleman, tossing half-a-crown to Tom.

"Thanky, sir; when we meet again may you have no more wit than you have now."

"How do you mean?"

"Not wit enough to keep your money, sir--that's all!"

"I presume you think that I have not got much."

"Which, sir; wit or money?"

"Wit, my lad."

"Nay, sir, I think you have both: the first you purchased just now; and you would hardly have bought it, if you had not money to spare."

"But I mean wit of my own."

"No man has wit of his own; if he borrows it, it's not his own; if he has it in himself, it's _mother_ wit, so it's not his."