« VorigeDoorgaan »
Samuel Bickerstaff, esqr. is so happy, as that by several legacies from distant relations, deaths of maiden sisters, and other instances of good fortune, he has, besides his real estate, a great sum of ready money. His son at the same time knows he has a good fortune, which the father cannot alienate, though he strives to make him believe he depends only on his will for maintenance. Tom is now in his nineteenth year, Mrs. Mary in her fifteenth. Cousin Samuel, who understands no one point of good behaviour, as it regards all the rest of the world, is an exact critic in the dress, the motion, the looks and gestures of his children.
What adds to their misery, is, that he is excessively fond of them, and the greatest part of their time is spent in the presence of this nice observer. Their life continued constraint. The girl never turns her head, but she is warned not to follow the proud minxes of the town. The boy is not to turn fop, or be quarrelsome; at the same time not to take an affront. I had the good fortune to dine with him to-day, and heard his fatherly table-talk as we sat at dinner, which, if my memory does not fail me, for the benefit of the world, I shall set down as he spoke it, which was much as follows, and may be of great use to those parents who seem to make it a rule that their children's turn to enjoy the world is not to commence, till they themselves have left it.
« Now, Tom, I have bought you chambers in the « inns of court. I allow you to take a walk once or “ twice a day round the garden. If you mind your « business, you need not study to be as great a law
yer as Coke upon Littleton. I have that that will “ keep you; but be sure you keep an exact account of
your linen. Write down what you give out to your “ laundress, and what she brings home again. Go as « little as possible to the other end of the town; but “ if you do, come home early. I believe I was as sharp
« as you for your ears, and I had my hat snatched off
my head coming home late at a stop at St. Cle“ ment's Church, and I do not know from that day to 56 this who took it. I do not care if you learn to fence a 6 little, for I would not have you be made a fool of. « Let me have an account of every thing every post; “ I am willing to be at that charge, and I think you 6 need not spare your pains. As for you, daughter 6 Molly do not mind one word that is said to you in * London, for it is only for your money."
TO THE THIRD VOLUME.
Concerning two letters sent to Mr. Bicker-