– My name is Tom Bowling, – and this here boy, you look as if you did not know him neither, – 'tis like you mayn't. – He's new-rigged, i' faith; – his cloth don't shake in the wind so much as it wont to do. – 'Tis my nephew, d'ye see, Roderick Random, – your own flesh and blood, old gentleman, don't lag a stern, you dog, don't (pulling me forward).« My grandfather (who was laid up with the gout) received this relation, after his long absence, with that civility and coldness which was peculiar to him; told him he was glad to see him, and desired him to sit down. – »Thank ye, thank ye, sir, I had as lief stand, (said my uncle) for my own part, I desire nothing of you; but if you have any conscience at all, do something for this poor boy, who has been used at a very unchristian rate. – Unchristian do I call it? – I am sure the Moors in Barbary, have more humanity than to leave their little ones to misery and want. – I would fain know, why my sister's son is more neglected than that there Fair-weather Jack, (pointing to the young 'squire, who with the rest of my cousins, had followed us into the room.) Is he not as near a-kin to you as the other? – Is not he much handsomer and better built than that great chucklehead? – Come, come, consider, old gentleman, you are going in a short time, to give an account of your evil actions. – Remember the wrongs you did his father; and make all the satisfaction in your power, before it be too late. – The least thing you can do, is to settle his father's portion on him.« – The young ladies, who thought themselves too much concerned, to contain themselves any longer, set up their throats altogether against my protector, who stopped his ears with his fingers, and cried out, that all the devils in hell had broke loose upon him. – »Scurvy companion, – sawcy tarpawlin, – rude, impertinent fellow, did he think to prescribe to grandpapa.« – His sister's brat had been too well taken care of, – Grandpapa was too just not to make a difference between an unnatural rebellious son, and his dutiful loving children who took his advice ›in all things;‹ and such expressions, were levelled against him with great violence; until the judge at length commanded silence. – He calmly rebuked my uncle for his unmannerly behaviour, which he said he would excuse on account of his education: he told him he had been very kind to the boy, whom he had kept at school seven or eight years, although he was informed he made no progress in his learning; but was addicted to all manner of vice, which he the rather believed, because he himself was witness to a barbarous piece of mischief he had committed on the jaws of his chaplain. – But however, he would see what the lad was fit for, and bind him apprentice to some honest tradesman or other, provided he would mend his manners, and behave for the future, as became him. – The honest tar (whose pride and indignation boiled within him) answered my grandfather; that it was true he had sent him to school, but it had cost him nothing, for he had never been at one shilling expence, to furnish him with food, raiment, books, or other necessaries; so, that it was not to be much wondered at, if the boy made small progress; and yet, whoever told him so, was guilty of a damn'd lie, for he was allowed by those who understood those matters, to be the best scholar of his age, in all the country; the truth of which he would maintain, by laying a wager of his whole half year's pay on the boy's head; – (with these words he pulled out his purse, and challenged the company.) – Neither is he addicted to vice, as you affirm, but very much exposed to ill usage, by your neglect, on which occasions, d'ye see, he never fails to shew his spirit, which has been misrepresented to you. – As for what happened to your chaplain, I am only sorry, that he did not knock out the scoundrel's brains, instead of his teeth. – By the Lord, if ever I come up with him, he had better be in Greenland, – that's all. – Thank you for your courteous offer, of binding the lad apprentice to a tradesman, I suppose you would make a taylor of him – would you? – I had rather see him hang'd, d'ye see. – Come along, Rory, I perceive how the land lies, my boy, – let's tack about, i' faith, – while I have a shilling thou shan't want a tester. B'wye, old gentleman, you're bound for the other world, but I believe damnably ill provided for the voyage. – Thus ended our visit, and we returned to the village, my uncle muttering curses all the way against the old shark and the young fry that surrounded him.

 

 

Chapter IV

My grandfather makes his will. – Our second visit – he dies – his will is read in presence of all his living descendants – the disappointment of my female cousins – my uncle's behaviour

 

A few weeks after our first visit, we were informed that the old judge, after a fit of thoughtfulness, which lasted three days, had sent for a notary and made his will; that the distemper had mounted from his legs to his stomach, and being conscious of his approaching end, he had desired to see all his descendants without exception. – In obedience to this summons, my uncle set out with me a second time, to receive the last benediction of my grandfather; often repeating by the road, »Ey, ey, we have brought up the old hulk at last. – You shall see, – you shall see the effect of my admonition.« – When we entered his chamber, which was crowded with his relations, we advanced to the bed-side, where we found him in his last agonies, supported by two of his grand-daughters, who sat on each side of him, sobbing most piteously, and wiping away the froth and slaver as it gathered on his lips, which they frequently kissed with a shew of great anguish and affection. – I know not whether or not he perceived my uncle, who approached him with these words, »What! he's not a weigh. How fare ye, – how fare ye, old gentleman? – Lord have mercy upon your poor sinful soul.« – But the dying man turned his sunken eyes towards us, – when my uncle went on. – »Here's poor Rory come to see you before you die and receive your blessing. – What man! don't despair, – you have been a great sinner, 'tis true, – what then? There's a righteous judge above, – isn't there? He minds me no more than a porpuss – Yes, yes, he's a going, – the land crabs will have him, I see that; – his anchor's a peak, i' faith!« – This homely consolation scandalized the company so much, and especially the parson, who probably thought his province invaded, that we were obliged to retire into another room, where in a few minutes, we were convinced of my grandfather's decease, by a dismal yell uttered by the young ladies in his apartment; whither we immediately hastened, and found his heir, who had retired a little before, into a closet under pretence of giving vent to his sorrow, asking, with a countenance beslubbered with tears, if his grandpapa was certainly dead? – »Dead! (says my uncle, looking at the body) ay, ay, I'll warrant him as dead as a herring. – Odd's fish! now my dream is out for all the world. – I thought I stood upon the Fore-castle, and saw a parcel of carrion crows foul of a dead shark that floated alongside, and the devil perching on our sprit-sailyard, in the likeness of a blue bear – who, d'ye see, jumped over-board upon the carcase, and carried it to the bottom in his claws.« – »Out upon thee, reprobate (cries the parson) out upon thee, blasphemous wretch! – Dost thou think his honour's soul is in the possession of Satan?« – The clamour immediately arose, and my poor uncle, who was shouldered from one corner of the room to the other, was obliged to lug out in his own defence, and swear he would turn out for no man, till such time as he knew who had a title to send him a-drift. – »None of your tricks upon travellers (said he;) may hap, old buff has left my kinsman here, his heir; – If he has, it will be the better for his miserable soul. – Odd's bob! I'd desire no better news. – I'd soon make a clear ship, I warrant you.« – To avoid any farther disturbance, one of my grandfather's executors, who was present, assured Mr.