_Dennis._ [_Ruminating._] Six thousand pounds! by St. Patrick, it's a sum!

_Per._ How many miles from here to the Manor house?

_Dennis._ Six thousand!

_Per._ Six thousand!--yards you mean, I suppose, friend.

_Dennis._ Sir!--Eh? Yes, sir, I--I mean yards--all upon a counter!

_Per._ Six thousand yards upon a counter! Mine host, here, seems a little bewildered;--but he has been anxious, I find, for poor Mary, and 'tis national in him to blend eccentricity with kindness. John Bull exhibits a plain, undecorated dish of solid benevolence; but Pat has a gay garnish of whim around his good nature; and if, now and then, 'tis sprinkled in a little confusion, they must have vitiated stomachs, who are not pleased with the embellishment.

_Enter DAN, booted._

_Dan._ Now, sir, you and I'll stump it.

_Per._ Is the way we are to go now, so much worse, that you have cased yourself in those boots?

_Dan._ Quite clean--that's why I put 'em on: I should ha' dirted 'em in t' other job.

_Per._ Set forward, then.

_Dan._ Na, sir, axing your pardon; I be but the guide, and 'tisn't for I to go first.

_Per._ Ha! ha! Then we must march abreast, boy, like l.u.s.ty soldiers, and I shall be side by side with honesty: 'tis the best way of travelling through life's journey, and why not over a heath? Come, my lad.

_Dan._ Cheek by jowl, by gum! [_Exeunt PEREGRINE and DAN._

_Dennis._ That walking philosopher--perhaps he'll give me a big bag of money. Then, to be sure, I won't lay out some of it to make me easy for life: for I'll settle a separate maintenance upon ould mother Brulgruddery.

_JOB THORNBERRY peeps out of the Door of the Public House._

_Job._ Landlord!

_Dennis._ Coming, your honour.

_Job._ [_Coming forward._] Hush! don't bawl;--Mary has fallen asleep. You have behaved like an emperor to her, she says. Give me your hand, landlord.

_Dennis._ Behaved!--Arrah, now, get away with your blarney.

[_Refusing his Hand._

_Job._ Well, let it alone. I'm an old fool, perhaps; but, as you comforted my poor girl in her trouble, I thought a squeeze from her father's hand--as much as to say, "Thank you, for my child."--might not have come amiss to you.

_Dennis._ And is it yourself who are that creature's father?

_Job._ Her mother said so, and I always believed her. You have heard some'at of what has happen'd, I suppose. It's all over our town, I take it, by this time. Scandal is an ugly, trumpeting devil. Let 'em talk;--a man loses little by parting with a herd of neighbours, who are busiest in publishing his family misfortunes; for they are just the sort of cattle who would never stir over the threshold to prevent 'em.

_Dennis._ Troth, and that's true;--and some will only sarve you, because you're convenient to 'em, for the time present; just as my customers come to the Red Cow.

_Job._ I'll come to the Red Cow, hail, rain, or shine, to help the house, as long as you are Landlord. Though I must say that your wife----

_Dennis._ [_Putting his Hand before JOB'S Mouth._] Decency!

Remember your own honour, and my feelings. I mustn't hear any thing bad, you know, of Mrs. Brulgruddery; and you'll say nothing good of her, without telling d.a.m.n'd lies; so be asy.

_Job._ Well, I've done;--but we mustn't be speaking ill of all the world, neither: there are always some sound hearts to be found among the hollow ones. Now he that is just gone over the heath----

_Dennis._ What, the walking philosopher?

_Job._ I don't know any thing of his philosophy; but, if I live these thousand years, I shall never forget his goodness. Then, there's another;--I was thinking, just now, if I had tried him, I might have found a friend in my need, this morning.

_Dennis._ Who is he?

_Job._ A monstrous good young man; and as modest and affable, as if he had been bred up a 'prentice, instead of a gentleman.

_Dennis._ And what's his name?

_Job._ Oh, every body knows him, in this neighbourhood; he lives hard by--Mr. Francis Rochdale, the young 'squire, at the Manor-house.

_Dennis._ Mr. Francis Rochdale!

_Job._ Yes!--he's as condescending! and took quite a friendship for me, and mine. He told me, t'other day, he'd recommend me in trade to all the great families twenty miles round;--and said he'd do, I don't know what all, for my Mary.

_Dennis._ He did!--Well, 'faith, you may'nt know what; but, by my soul, he has kept his word!

_Job._ Kept his word!--What do you mean?

_Dennis._ Harkye--If Scandal is blowing about your little fireside accident, 'twas Mr. Francis Rochdale recommended him to your shop, to buy his bra.s.s trumpet.

_Job._ Eh! What? no!--yes--I see it at once!--young Rochdale's a rascal!--Mary! [_Bawling._

_Dennis._ Hush--you'll wake her, you know.

_Job._ I intend it. I'll--a glossy, oily, smooth rascal!--warming me in his favour, like an unwholesome February sun! shining upon my poor cottage, and drawing forth my child,--my tender blossom,--to suffer blight, and mildew!--Mary! I'll go directly to the Manor-house--his father's in the commission.--I may'nt find justice, but I shall find a justice of peace.

_Dennis._ Fie, now! and can't you listen to reason?

_Job._ Reason!----tell me a reason why a father shouldn't be almost mad, when his patron has ruin'd his child.--d.a.m.n his protection!--tell me a reason why a man of birth's seducing my daughter doesn't almost double the rascality? yes, double it: for my fine gentleman, at the very time he is laying his plans to make her infamous, would think himself disgraced in making her the honest reparation she might find from one of her equals.

_Dennis._ Arrah, be asy, now, Mr. Thornberry.

_Job._ And, this spark, forsooth, is now canva.s.sing the county!--but, if I don't give him his own at the hustings!--How dare a man set himself up for a guardian of his neighbour's rights, who has robbed his neighbour of his dearest comforts? How dare a seducer come into freeholders' houses, and have the impudence to say, send me up to London as your representative? Mary! [_Calling._

_Dennis._ That's all very true.--But if the voters are under petticoat government, he has a mighty good chance of his election.

_Enter MARY._

_Mary._ Did you call, my dear father?

_Job._ Yes, I did call. [_Pa.s.sionately._