Chapter I: Part 1

THE

HISTORY

OF THE

PROCEEDINGS in the CASE

OF

MARGARET,

Commonly called PEG, only lawful
Sister to JOHN BULL, Esq;

The SECOND EDITION.

Printed for W. OWEN, near Temple Bar.
MDCCLXI.

THE

CONTENTS.

CHAP. I. _How =John= quarrelled with =Lewis
Baboon= about dividing the West-common;
and how instead of going to law,
they came to blows_, 16

CHAP. II. _What sort of fellows =John= and =Lewis=
were in use to employ to keep their orchards,
and their poultry_, 23

CHAP. III. _How =John= got a terrible fright in
his own house of Bull-hall_, 36

CHAP. IV. _How =John’s= affairs had like to have
gone to the Devil_, 48

CHAP. V. _How =John= consulted with his friends
about the method of retrieving his affairs_, 59

CHAP. VI. _How the Nurse dreamt that =John
Bull= had banished all the weavers_, 66

CHAP. VII. _What happened after this conversation
with the Nurse_, 77

CHAP. VIII. _Concerning sister =Peg=_, 84

CHAP IX. _How =Lewis Baboon= was belaboured
and drubbed; and how =Jowler= behaved_, 91

CHAP X. _How sister =Peg= began to look about
her; and how she wrote a letter to her brother
=John=_, 98

CHAP XI. _How this letter was received by
=John=_, 114

CHAP XII. _How Mrs. =Bull’s= attendants were
prepared on this subject_, 119

CHAP XIII. _How =Bumbo= discoursed with
=John Bull’s= Nurse, and found her not so great
a fool as he thought her_, 129

CHAP XIV. _Showing how it was the fashion
to harangue Mrs. =Bull=_, 141

CHAP XV. _How Mrs. =Bull= sat still and heard
a great deal more on this subject_, 152

CHAP XVI. _How =Bumbo= gave his evidence_,
164
CHAP XVII. _How Mrs. =Bull= settled her
stomach_, 172

THE

HISTORY

OF THE

PROCEEDINGS in the CASE

OF

MARGARET,

COMMONLY CALLED PEG.

There being no history with which every learned reader is better acquainted in general, than that of John Bull, and his sister Peg, we shall spend very little time in preambles or introductions to the present story. John and his sister lived many a day, as every body knows, in the two adjoining houses which were left them by their father; and it matters not now to say, how much better John was lodged than his sister, and how many more improvements he had made on his farm. We never heard of any difference arising between them on this score, farther than some jeers and taunts between the blackguards or scullions of either house, who generally got themselves bloody noses upon the occasion. As for Peg herself, she was so far from complaining of her portion, that nothing could offend her more, than to be told out of doors, that she was not the richest heiress in the world.

It is not easy to say, whether it was Peg’s own temper, the badness of her subject, or the perpetual vexations she met with in her youth, that hindered her from minding her domestic affairs, so much as she should have done: but the truth is, that matters were often at sixes and sevens in her family; and her brother and she, to be sure, never could agree about any thing. All the world knows how long their affairs remained in confusion, merely because they would not employ the same attorney, and what an aversion they had to trust their affairs in common to any single person. Peg would say, “I’ll have nothing to do with John’s lawyers; whoever I employ must mind nobody’s affairs but mine. I have as good a right to be served as he; and if he pays more than I do, let it be for services done to himself, not for cheating me.” John again would swagger and swear, and said, that whoever Peg employed, must be a dirty lousy fellow; and would come to no terms, unless she would take a steward of his choosing.

It happened, however, at last, as every careful peruser of history knoweth, that every man of the law, within the reach almost of John’s knowledge, from the master down to the merest clerk-boy, died, or left the country, or disappeared some how or other, and John was obliged for once to put his papers in the hands of his sister’s lawyer, a very book-learned man, as many people affirm even unto this day. But be this as it will, Peg had the vanity to boast, that though her lawyer now lived in John’s own house, yet it was she who gave that clod-pated pock-puddened numskull the lawyer at last; and that this same man of the law, if he had any gratitude to the house where he was born and bred, would not let her be wronged, or forget her boys, when the stock came to be divided. She trusted too, that they would remember themselves, and if John or the attorney pretended to cheat them, she talked no less than of beating out both their brains. John was really at bottom a good-natured fellow, and knowing himself to be an overmatch for Peg, did not mind her peevish humours a rush; but he would not have liked her attorney for all that, if he had not expected to manage him, by keeping him in his own house, and by putting clerks about him, who never had any connexion with Margaret, or her hungry loons, from whom, the truth is, he expected no good.

This affair being settled between the brother and sister, as well as could be expected with so little cordiality on either side, their common concerns began to be a little better managed, and people got some rest in their beds; for they did not harbour vagrants, as they used to do, to hamstring one another’s cattle, to tear up the young planting, and knock out one another’s brains. They differed, it is true, now and then about this thing, and t’other thing, and about attornies and agents, but it always happened that they employed the same person, even whilst John wished Peg at the bottom of the sea; and Peg sometimes let devilish knocks at him, and the attorney too, when she was jealous of either.

John, however, was so far lucky, that his sister concurred with him very readily in most things of consequence, such as turning off Squire Geoffry, and the like; insomuch, that he himself was not readier to part with this Squire, as every body knows, although he claimed kindred to Peg, as the foster-mother of his family; and to make all sure, she put her hand as freely to the perpetual contract with Sir Thomas. This was a gentleman in the neighbourhood, of an ancient family, and a pretty fortune of his own: but he was willing to take charge of the brother and sister’s affairs, provided he had some security that he should not be turned out the next moment, which was accordingly granted in the form of a contract, by virtue of which he continues to manage their business in a very orderly regular manner.

This, however, did not hinder some persons in both families, who had a hankering after Squire Geoffry, from being mad enough once and again, to think of restoring him to his office, in spite of John’s and Margaret’s teeth. They came sometimes from the garret, and from the cellar, roaring about this matter; and when they got drunk, they imagined nothing was easier to be done. The truth is, that if Peg had not been firm to the contract, John would often have been sore beset.

Although the intention of this proem is far from being to give a full account of the affairs of these two families, preceding the present transaction, much less to censure or run down other grave historians, who have published to the learned world any part of their history; yet we cannot altogether pass in silence some few mistakes in the otherwise elaborate work of the celebrated Sir Humphrey Polisworth, bred in the learned university of Grub-street. An historian, in our opinion, should be as mindful of truth in whatever he may occasionally mention, as he is in the main series of his story. For want of attending to this truth, the learned Sir Humphrey has unguardedly misrepresented the nature of John’s and Peg’s agreement, together with the causes which induced John to sollicit that accommodation. Many learned writers of that time say, that the question was not then about John’s heir, but about the old story the choice of a steward, and the perpetual contract we have mentioned. But be this as it will, there was no disagreement between John and his sister on either of these points, as Sir Humphrey Polisworth himself doth acknowledge. On the contrary, if John roared against Squire Geoffry, Peg tore her cap and her apron in perfect rage, and was like cat and dog with the same Squire and his gang, all the time they were in the management of John’s business.

The truth of the matter was, that about the time of the great change we have mentioned, many people in both families said, Although we agree now, we may quarrel hereafter, and it will be a plaguey thing to come into the hands of different lawyers and attornies again, who never fail to set people by the ears for their own advantage. John and Margaret have lived so much better, since they came to employ the same lawyer, that it is a pity they should ever be in danger of parting their affairs. The lands of Bull-hall and Thistle-down were never intended for two farms, the same hedge and ditch surround them, and whilst they continue in one, they may be kept with half the looking after; for nobody can be half so troublesome to either family, as they have formerly been to one another. For these, and many more reasons, an agreement was thought upon; and though it went somewhat against John’s stomach, yet he coaxed and flattered sister Peg till he obtained her consent, not to come to live in his house, as the learned Sir Humphrey Polisworth has erroneously related, but merely to shut up her own compting-room, dismiss her overseers, and send her clerks to John’s house, to manage their affairs together with his accomptant, under the inspection of the great lawyer, as he was then called, in both families.

This agreement, however, did not please every body. The servants who attended Peg’s compting-room, were angry at the loss of their vails. The upper servants, as every body knows, mismanaged their part of the business some how or other, and many people said, that the house looked melancholy when the windows of the counting-room just looking to the South were shut up. In short, you could hear a buzz in every corner of the house, that the whole family was undone for ever. Jack himself grew very sulky, and for the turn of a straw would have played the devil. But what will not a little time to. Peg’s people got gradually into better humour; Jack’s zeal for the contract made with Sir Thomas, soon reconciled him to whatever was connected with it, and Peg’s affairs went on so tolerably, that every body was pacified, except the few who would be pleased with nothing, unless Squire Geoffry was restored.

About the time that Sir Thomas came to the office, there was a great turmoil in John’s kitchin and back-yard, and in Peg’s garret, where indeed she harboured a parcel of curious fellows, who did not mind the business of the family much, but would run you up and down stairs like lightning, sometimes get into the kitchen, the hen roost, or back yard, and snap up any thing their fingers could lay hold of. Their mistress seldom got any rent from them, except a days work now and then in harvest, or the use of their children to keep the crows from the barley. But the true secret of her liking to them was, that they were excellent fellows at a brawl, and you had as good put your head in the fire, as meddle with their mistress when they were by. But Peg could never get them to agree among themselves till very lately, nor always to behave very respectfully to herself; insomuch, that both John and she were often tempted to condemn that garret. But things must have their course, the garret gentry have sometimes done excellent service, and there is nobody John himself likes better to see about him, when Lewis Baboon or Lord Strutt come about cudgel-playing, which is a very common case, as the learned Sir Humphrey has very well observed.

CHAP. I.

_How =John= quarrelled with =Lewis Baboon= about dividing the West-common; and how instead of going to law, they came to blows._

We account it a great oversight in the learned Sir Humphrey Polisworth, that he has taken little or no notice of John Bull’s land-estate, his orchards, kitchen-grounds, and corn-fields, of which he has always possessed an excellent share; but considered him as a simple clothier and mechanic, merely because he sent goods of this, and many other kinds to market. John got ready money, it is true, by the sale of his goods; but the great support of his family, and what made him be treated like a gentleman in the neighbourhood, was the excellent manor of Bull-hall, where John and his posterity may find capon and bacon, and beef and mutton, without being obliged to any body, and without cringing to Lord Strutt, Squire South, or Lewis Baboon, for their custom. It is true, that the devil possessed John sometimes to that degree, that you could not hear a word from him but about his cloth, and his iron-work, and his pottery, and you would see him up to the eyes in clay, or steeped, till he grew all the colours of the rainbow, in dyer’s stuff, or smoaked and roasted like a smith, or sallow and greasy like a weaver, and no gentleman could keep company with him, or any of his family, such low habits they had got behind the counter, or in the work-shop. “Mind your customers, lads,” says John; “Good words go far; Be civil to every body whether they buy or no;” and then he would rap out a string of proverbs, such as, “A penny saved is a penny got; Fast bind, fast find,” and so forth; in short, if it had not been for some good blood which John had still in his veins, he must have grown a mere pedling, sneaking, designing, mercenary rogue, as ever was.

There was, as we say, blood, or something else, that kept up John’s spirit, so that he went abroad now and then, in as gentleman-like a way as could be wished, although Lewis Baboon used to sit sneering at him sometimes as he passed; but John minded him not a rush.

Now it happened, that John and Lewis had about the same time taken in part of the west-common, and though their fields were not contiguous, they could not agree about their marches. Many meetings they had to settle them, but all to no purpose, for none of them knew well what he would be at. The common saying was, that Lewis wanted to get all the land in the country, and you needed only to tell John so much, in order to put him in a downright foam of rage and fury. However this be, Lewis tormented his own people enough, with making them stick in posts and stakes in different parts of the common; and when John asked him what he meant, he said, They were only rubing posts for his cows to scratch themselves, in case they strayed so far. But other people told John, that Lewis would some day or other claim every bit of that ground as his own, by virtue of those stakes, if he was not checked in time. Accordingly, John sent him some angry message about them, and Lewis in return, begged leave to present his compliments to John, and allured him, that the thing in the world he wished most, was to live in good terms with his honoured friend and neighbour John Bull. Mean time, some of John’s cow-herds met with a fellow or two belonging to Lewis, and after a great deal of bad language, painful to repeat, they came to blows, and made a great noise, which brought John and Lewis too, to see what was the matter. John, indeed, happened to be in his barge that afternoon, on the lake to the west of his house, which he affected to call his own fish-pond, and Lewis too being on his way to the common, their barges unhappily met, when John, without any more ado, took up an oar, and aimed a blow at Lewis Baboon’s brains, You damn’d, insidious, fair-tongued villain, this is all your doing, with your stakes and your posts, and your covetousness for land, which nobody will possess under you, you damned, oppressive, squeezing rascal. My dear John, says Lewis, what is the matter? The matter, you scoundrel! With that John aimed another blow; but their barges ran foul of one another, and he fastened on Lewis Baboon’s wig, tore his bag, and threw it in the water; in short, before you could count six, there was not a hat nor a wig to be seen in the whole boats-crew, of either side. History says, that Lewis had like to have been drowned outright, and was glad to get home with his head broken in many places, and cursing John Bull, for the most rash, cholerick, blunder-headed fellow, that ever was known in the world.

CHAP. II.

_What sort of fellows =John= and =Lewis= were in use to employ to keep their orchards, and their poultry._

History tells us many lies, if this was the first time that John and Lewis came to blows; and Sir Humphrey Polisworth may think to conceal it if he will, but many a time has Lewis, in his youth, lost his hat and his wig in scuffles with John, and as often has John come home with a broken pate, though very few people durst tell it to his wife or his mother. In short, these two had been troublesome rogues to one another time out of mind; and at the time of which we are now speaking, there was no such thing as law or justice in the whole country. If you could keep your own, it was well; if not, it did not signify complaining; two or three stout fellows at your back, a brace of pistols, or a blunderbuss, was a better title to an estate than the best conveyance in the world. Whilst you thought yourself sure of your lands, two or three fellows in the neighbourhood would be disputing who should have it; and of Lord Strutt, Lewis Baboon, Squire South, Nicholas Frog, John Bull himself, and all the gang of them, there was not one to mend another, they did not mind blowing out one another’s brains one farthing; they had got honourable names for thieving, robbing, and house-breaking, such as policy, conquest, and invasion; and if you lived in their neighbourhood, they were sure to leave you nothing, unless you could handle a cutlass, or fire a blunderbuss, and kept friends with some one or other of them, who protected you for his own sake, or that he might take all you had at a more convenient time. God help the poor milk-sop that trusted to the goodness of his cause.

This made every body look about him; and John among the rest, for many a day, had as stout a family of young fellows as any in all the neighbourhood, and would not take an affront or an injury from any man. His boys were for the most part sober, peaceable fellows within doors; but if there was any noise heard over-night among the poultry in the orchard, or the workshop, it needed only the bark of a dog to bring a score of them into the court, and from every corner of John’s house you could hear nothing but striving who should be out first. Every body had his cutlass, or his carabine at his bed’s-head, and it is hard to say which they were most jealous of, their father’s honour, or the preservation of his estate. It was the pride of John’s heart in those days, to see his boys hardy and resolute, and he hated a sneaking, puny, pewling fellow, like the devil.

In this humour John lived for many a day; but many changes happen which nobody looks for; people persuaded him by degrees, that if he had money enough there was nothing else worth minding. From this hopeful maxim, he even neglected sending his children to school, locked up their cudgels and cricket-batts, and would not let one of them touch a gun, for fear they should hurt themselves. He had got by heart all the stories that ever his nurse had told him, about the accidents which happen at rough play, or in handling firelocks, and would repeat them sometimes, till his wife and his mother were quite ashamed of him.

It would require the pen of a great historian to tell how this great change was brought about. Some people said, that John was old and began to doat; others said, that it was all owing to an old nurse who lived about the house; but alas, they do not tell us how John came to be directed by old women, or what was the reason that some of John’s neighbours were grown worse than even he was at this time. Lewis Baboon was grown from a spruce forward gallant, a mere priest-ridden, whore-ridden, flimsey periwig-making old fool. Lord Strutt could never be got out of his bed before eleven o’clock in the morning; and Nicholas Frog would rather have taken ready money for a farthing-candle, than see his best friend return from the grave. One stout man could have chaced a hundred of them into the sea, and yet these damned fellows contrived to be very troublesome for all that, by means of a device of which the devil himself was certainly the author. In their younger days they were all ready enough at a blow, yet as they and every body about them, had some other business besides fighting, they could not well quarrel when they were otherways engaged; but they came at last to keep people on purpose to fight, and as nobody cared what became of these fellows, they would send them out for the turn of a straw, to play the devil in all the neighbourhood; and the rest of the people at home trusting to them, became mere milk-sops and old women.

An historian of great credit affirms, that this practice was grafted on that of keeping a game-keeper; and for this reason it is, that although there be many more of them in every house than are necessary to keep the game, they are nevertheless known under the title of game-keepers even unto this day. In former times, continues he, every father of a family and his children, were sportmen more or less. It mattered not who started the game, they could all shoot without distinction; and it mattered as little what part of the house a thief attempted to break in upon, the first man he met thought himself obliged to defend the premises. But when they grew lazy, spiritless, and purse-proud, they must needs keep their game-keepers like lords, and each according to his estate, got as many as he could well maintain, and those he employed not only to knock down a hare, or a partridge, now and then, for the master’s table, but to them he entrusted the whole defence of his estate inclosed and common, barn-yards, orchards, and kitchin-grounds, and it was thought presumption in any body else to do any thing besides running away when any body attempted to disturb the house. Lewis Baboon would have kept you forty or fifty at a time, and this when nobody was meddling with him, as he said, to guard his poultry, and attend him to church.

These fellows did nothing from morning to night, but first turn upon one heel, and then upon another, put a gun sometimes to their hip, sometimes to their nose, sometimes to their shoulder; and, in short, played so many antic tricks with a musket, that few or none of them could remember or distinguish its real use. But they bilked their landlords, cursed, swore, and bullied, wherever they went, and in many houses where such fellows were kept, nobody durst say his life was his own for them.

It may be hard enough to tell how any matter of a family came to keep such people about him; but the most amazing thing of all is, how John Bull, so kind a father, and so good a master, should ever think of entertaining so many of them, and trust more to their affection, than to that of his own children.

It is true, that John’s heart has always misgiven him in this project; he generally keeps a dozen or so, but nobody could ever prevail on him, or Mrs. Bull, to tell how long they were to keep them; and every Saturday night when he pays off his workmen, he always says, Gentlemen, whereas it goes against my conscience, to keep some damned rascals perpetually about my house, you are to remain only for next week, and no longer; but still he keeps them on in this manner from one week to another, for which he has many salvo’s. In the first place, says John, I don’t take any body but my own tenants sons, or now and then an idle fellow from my own farm, and I have always some of my own boys who keep them company; so that they always behave very respectfully to me, and have often taken my part, when such fellows as Nicholas Frog keeps would have cut my throat. Secondly, says John, I only keep them as long as Squire Geoffrey and his abettors are like to be troublesome, which I hope will not be long. But many of John’s enemies said, that there was a better reason than all these put together, viz. that he was afraid to fire a gun himself, and was frightened out of his senses when he had not some of his bullies by him.

Whether this was the cause, or the effect of his keeping those fellows, it must be owned that John Bull, who used to be a bold hearty fellow, always master in his own house, and afraid of nothing, began to sneak about the doors, and would start at his own shadow; and when there was any noise in the orchard, or poultry-yard, he would scour up to the garret, and leave the game-keepers and the thieves to do what they pleased with his effects, shutting his eyes, and stopping his ears, that he might not see or hear any shooting of guns, of which in truth he was become marvelously afraid. Lewis Baboon had no more ado, but to give out that he was going to pay a civil visit to John, in order to put the whole house in a pannic: and this word _pannic_ was grown so familiar with John, that he had it always ready as an excuse for running away upon the slightest occasion.

CHAP. III.

_How =John= got a terrible fright in his own house of Bull-hall._

It was not always without cause, that John Bull disliked the visits of Lewis Baboon; he knew what fine sport that rogue might have made for himself in such a house; and that besides cuckoldom, many other misfortunes might have befallen the landlord. But history, with all her gravity, will scarcely make posterity believe, how much John was afraid of his own sister Margaret’s garret lodgers. Once upon a time, two or three of them being seduced by some outlandish person, who stiled himself young Mr. Geoffrey, got down stairs, ran into Margaret’s dining room and drawing-room, overset the china, drank the cream, and having found one of John’s game-keepers teaching the maids to coddle apples in the back-kitchen, gave him a slap in the chops, and poured the scalding water on him. From thence they proceeded as they thought proper; and though Margaret threw her poker at them as they passed, with an air of great bitterness and vexation, yet John took it in his head that it was all her doing, and sent her word to keep them at home, otherwise he would set fire to her house: but just as he was talking in this strain, and abusing his poor sister as a treacherous vixin, who might have kept better order in her house if she pleased, he was silenced at once with a knock on the pate; and without staying to see what was the matter, ran up to the leads, called out to his game-keepers, who were gone nobody knows where, then to Nicholas Frog, Rousterdivel, and all the damned names you can think of, to come to the assistance of John Bull, whose throat was just going to be cut in his own house.

Mean time, Mr. Luchar, for this was the ringleader in all this mischief, continued to do what he pleased. Whenever he met any of John’s fellows, he asked, What trade are you? And if they were weavers, he made them furnish what cloth he wanted; threatening to rip up their guts. In like manner, if they were brewers, tanners, cooks, scullions, or malsters, each in his way had something good for Mr. Luchar, and the fellow had learned not to be afraid, although there were three hundred of them together.

This fray, however, did not last long; Mr. Luchar was tired, and went away home to his garret, and John, who had been more afraid than hurt, came down stairs, and when he saw that the foe was actually gone, called out to set fire to Peg’s house, to burn her, and all her vermin; for, says he, we shall never get any peace for them. Mean time, the game-keeper took heart at last, went up to the garret, and gave Mr. Luchar a stunning blow in the guts, just as he was stripping to go to bed, and dragged him down to the court, where John was in a little prevailed on to come and see the object of his terror, with his hands tied behind his back. Then, indeed, he began to be ashamed of his own behaviour, and abused all his people for letting him be so much afraid; he scolded the very scullions for letting the bacon be carried off by so paultry a fellow as Mr. Luchar. In short, he and every body else threw the blame upon his neighbour, but all agreed in cursing and sinking sister Peg, to the deepest pit of hell.

It was hard to say what the poor woman had done to deserve all this treatment; but some people set to work with her merely because it was the fashion, and others found their account in it, some in one way, some in another. As for the game-keeper, it was not very difficult to see his motive; he had never beat any body before in all his life, and wanted now to magnify his feats as much as he could, and accordingly said, that few people knew the amount of what he had done; that if he had not fought with sister Margaret’s people one and all, he was no true man; that he totally subdued them, and knew of nobody to compare himself to, but the ancient conquerors. That if any body said, that the whole of Margaret’s people was not against him, he was a scoundrel, and a rascal, and not to be trusted.

After this, who and who were to be trusted became the great question in John’s house. There was no pretending to any thing without being able to talk about trusting; and some people would scarcely let John Bull trust himself. As for poor Peg, he was the finest fellow that spoke the most ill of her. Even some of her own children who took care of nobody but themselves all the time that Mr. Luchar was stirring, came abroad now to confess with regret, that their mother was a sad vixin; that she had given Mr. Luchar a dram of cherry-brandy, before he set out upon that damned unnatural diabolical hell-fire scamper; that for their parts it was true, they had the misfortune to be born in her house, some people said of her own proper person, but few people know who their real parents are: this, however, they knew, that they had left her very young, and never liked her company. When one had made such a speech as this, another endeavoured still to improve upon it; and if one gave his mother two, three, or more abusive epithets, the next did not fail to give five or six. At last one great dolt of a fellow, called Bumbo, made a shift to get a round dozen of them on his fingers ends, with which he never failed to entertain John Bull as often as he met him.

The sequel of all this spite to their mother, was a great deal of kindness to John Bull. Leave matters to us, said they, we shall take care that so worthy a man shall not be imposed upon; you should always have some of us about your own person, and give us some decent employment, that no body may suspect the design of our being here; we shall take care to place people in that unnatural sister’s house, so that not a whisper shall be uttered among her gossips, but you shall hear of it; and these speeches they commonly concluded, with a _beware of counterfeits_. John upon all this looked like a perfect oaff: he thought Mr. Luchar’s knife was at his throat every moment; and these favourable dispositions they took care to improve. One time he was told that a cousin of Mr. Luchar’s had come in secretly at Peg’s garret window; at another time, that Mr. Luchar himself had bought a pair of new shoes; at another time, that his sister Margaret had laughed at him, when she heard that he went up to the leads; and all this, besides being asked regularly every morning, what would become of him, if he had not some trusty friends to stand between him and that unnatural sister. In short, John was put from his sleep, and his appetite; he stared and stammered in his speech; you could not hear a word of common sense from him; and to have spoken a word of common sense, would have disgraced you with him for ever.

History says, however, that John did not continue very long in this humour; and, indeed, it must be owned, that it was for once a good thing to be of a changeable temper: it would have been the devil indeed, to have continued for ever in the hands of spies and informers, perpetually talking of the miseries of human life; and the truth is, that there was nothing in the world more repugnant to his ordinary temper; so that though he could not all at once return to a perfect cordiality with his sister, yet he listened to people who advised him to take gentle methods with her. He accordingly, let even Mr. Luchar himself off, with little more than an obligation to put on his breeches every morning before he came down stairs among the ladies; and sent a civil message to his sister, to ask her how she did, and to propose taking a lease of her garret, and said that he would pay her any rent she chose to put upon it. Many odd projects, indeed, were put in his head at this time; such as to turn that garret into a stable and coach-house; to make sister Peg lodge her coals in it, brew her ale, and wash her linen; in short, to make Mr. Luchar himself, besides putting on his breeches, carry up earth, and plant cabbages and turnips upon the leads. It is true, that nothing of all this has been done; but it is not John’s fault, he was at some expence about it, and meant all for the best.

CHAP. IV.

_How =John=’s affairs had like to have gone to the devil._

We know how difficult a thing it is to write history. Whenever the reader meets with any thing that exceeds his own pitch, he presently attacks the credit of the historian; and we shall now be asked how came John Bull, who was such a coward in his own house, to be so very rash, as we have said, in that scuffle with Lewis Baboon. The fact is, that John never was slow at getting into a quarrel; he was choleric beyond measure; and as for mischief out of doors, there was nobody readier. He had a parcel of watermen who feared neither man nor devil, and when he was in his barge, either on the east or the west lake, it was but a word and a blow with him; he never was afraid to meet with Lewis Baboon there, nor any where else, except at home. When you proposed to John, to go over to Lewis’s own house, and break his bones for him, he thought nothing more easy; but alas, if Lewis talked of coming to him, matters went no better than we have said.

You will easily believe, that after that scuffle in the barge, Lewis Baboon must be in a very great passion. Accordingly, he cursed and swore like twenty dragoons, that he would speedily see John in his own house, and show him in the face of Mrs. Bull herself, what sort of a man he had affronted: this was sooner said than done. But in the mean time, nobody could tell what was become of John, and all his watermen; whilst Lewis Baboon went vapouring about every where, and did what he pleased. He drove John’s cattle out of Cracket-Island, and took possession of it; although John used to think that nobody could ever dispute islands with him, so ready was he with his barge to relieve them: but the truth upon this occasion was, that John had got into one of these pannics we have mentioned, had applied to Nicholas Frog to no purpose, and actually brought over Rousterdivel, to protect him. But the whole neighbourhood laughed at him, when they saw that Lewis Baboon had no more to do than to talk of going over to John, in order to do what he pleased every where else; and John got into one of the greatest passions that ever he was in in his life. All the historians of that time, ring with the amazing noise which he made about that same Cracket-Island. He swaggered and stared, and roared and swore, that John Bull of Bull-hall was abused and cheated by his clerks, his watermen, his overseers, and every soul about him. When he saw Rousterdivel, he called to his people to turn out that fellow; asked, what the devil had brought him to his house; would not give him a bit of victuals, and threatened to go to law with him about a handkerchief: and in short, obliged the poor fellow to go away, very much puzzled to make out what sort of a man this same Mr. Bull must be.

Upon this occasion, John made such a noise, that he wakened Mrs. Bull, and brought her down yawning to the parlour, and rubbing her eyes, after one of those drousy fits, to which she had been lately subject. He had already, to her no small mortification, chaced away two or three of her favourite servants, who used to put her to bed every night, and among the rest his own nurse, who was grown of late a great person in all Mrs. Bull’s junketings and private parties; and indeed, for some time, pretended to manage John himself as she thought proper. To do this nurse justice, there were few people had a better hand at a sack-posset; and though she had no aversion to a glass of liquor in a fair way, yet she never tasted what came through her hands in the way of making cawdle, whey, or panada for the children: we never heard any thing amiss of her, save that she would take the children’s halfpence from them to keep, and therewith make up little sums, which she lent to the servant maids at interest, when they wanted to buy ribbons, or other trinkets. But the love of money may be forgiven in old age, as also that meddling disposition which servants usually acquire when they have been long about a house. The truth is, that nothing could be more ridiculous than to hear this old woman put in her word upon all occasions. There was nothing in which she did not think herself a perfect oracle; she talked to John not only about his markets and his bargains, and all his dealings with his neighbours, about the choice of schools and masters for his children; game-keepers, hunts-men, whippers-in; but, in short, about his drunken quarrels, boxing matches, cudgel play, and quarter staff. She would govern every part of his house for him, and no servant durst go with a message from his master, without first asking her, if she had any commands?

Hubble-bubble, and this nurse, had gone hand in hand for many a day; but alas! the loss of Cracket-Island fell heavy upon them both at last. Bawd, whore and rogue, were the best names they could get from John upon that occasion, and Hubble-bubble got out of his way as fast as he could scour; but the nurse broke a cawdle-cup which she had in her hand, and bid him go find another to make slops for himself and his children.

John was greatly helped into this fine humour by one Jowler, for whom he had a great regard at this time. Most historians agree, that the name of Jowler was only a nick-name, which this fellow had got from the boys at school, on account of some odd conceit of a resemblance between him and a hound of that name in John’s pack. They say, moreover, that most of the boys had the name of some dog or other given them, and that they used to make one of themselves the hare, and so hunt him with a mighty noise, in imitation of John’s pack. As to the dog Jowler, his resemblance to the person we are now speaking of, has procured him a place in the records of history. There we are told, that this dog had a very loud tongue, and that if he could not lead the whole pack, he never failed, at least, to carry off five or six couple, sometimes on a right, sometimes on a wrong scent; that he thereby so often spoilt the sport, that the huntsman was downright crazy with rage, and often threatened to turn Jowler out of the kennel, and sometimes actually tied him up at home; but then he made such a noise, that Mrs. Bull could get no sleep for him in a morning; and the huntsman was as often obliged to leave Mango’s tomb and plaister in the kennel, whilst Jowler was suffered to lead the pack. Then John had excellent sport, and the huntsman no great cause to complain; for Jowler was tractable enough, and a crack of the whip would make him leave the pursuit of the stag, for that of a pole-cat, or a rabbit, and this not absolutely for want of nose, but for fear of being turned down among the babblers again.

Although we account it below the dignity of history, to adopt, or retail nick-names, yet we think ourselves obliged in this case, to retain a name which has come down to us on the great tide of writers, which watt and carry the transactions of that age. To return, therefore, from this digression; Jowler no sooner observed the humour which John was in, than he chimed in directly; he told him that his family had never been so much disgraced before; that the scandalous loss of Cracket-Island was more owing to his overseer, than to the waterman who was sent to look after it; that it was ignominious for John Bull, with a house full of fine young fellows, to need the protection of so sorry a fellow as Rousterdivel; that if he did not look about him, he would soon become the jest of all the neighbourhood, and lose all the ground which he had upon the common, or any where else. To approve of a man’s advice in one thing, and trust him with every thing, were inseparable with John; accordingly, he put all his affairs directly into Jowler’s hands, and for the first fortnight neither Sir Thomas, nor any body else, durst controul him in any thing.

CHAP. V.

_How =John= consulted with his friends about the method of retrieving his affairs._

John was a great person for collecting his friends together to have their advice, but for the most part he did just what he pleased for all that; and he had always some point or other in his head, in which it was in vain to contradict him. This was the case now about the malversations of his servants, and though there were many people disposed to soften him, not a mortal durst put in a word. In the height of his passion he abused every thing that had been done, right or wrong, for many years before. They had neglected his new farm upon the common, and sent his horses, his ploughs and carts, to labour Sir Thomas’s land in the east country; they had run him in debt over head and ears, pawned his plate, and mortgaged his estate; they had made his wife, who used to be a notable woman, a mere sot, with ale, brandy, and slops. The nurse had even spoilt his own stomach with nasty mawkish warm drinks, and over-heating his ale. With all this in his head, whenever he went to any of the neighbouring towns, he instantly repaired to the coffee-house, and poured all forth to the first person he met. All the world admired the vigour of his spirit, and the honesty of his intentions, even when he carried matters too far; and we all know, that if the father of such a family does not make a noise sometimes, affairs will be managed but so so.

About this time of which we are now speaking, John had a circle about him wherever he went, and talked of his affairs from morning to night. He testified a particular aversion to the employing of Rousterdivel any more, swore that he himself never would cross the lake upon any body’s errands, and that if any body came over to meddle with him, he would show them that he could defend himself. In all which, Jowler encouraged him strongly, and repeated every word John could say, in a much higher tone than himself; and next to the point of getting fixed in the management of the business, seemed to have nothing more at heart, than to break off all idle connections, to keep John at home, and put a gun in his own hands, to avoid the disgrace of running to other people for protection on every trifling alarm. Whatever might be done afterwards, Jowler knew this was no time to baulk John in any of his fancies; and accordingly, he assisted in all his consultations, and nobody so loud as he.

One day, when John’s tongue was running on God knows where, he was asked by some of his friends what he intended to do. Do you intend, said they, to ask Lewis Baboon’s pardon for striking him in the manner you did, or do you persist in the design of giving him gentlemany satisfaction? I tell you what, says John, if Lewis Baboon had a thousand Cracket-islands of mine, and that he would give me them all for asking his pardon, I would not do it. He is a vile, over-reaching, undermining, treacherous rogue, and there never will be any peace in the neighbourhood, as long as that fair-tongued rascal is out of his grave. Let him come out in his barge again, and I shall meet him; but I know the rascal, he has perpetually some bad design in his head, and when he is found out, he will bow and scrape, and make compliments; but he does not lay it aside for all that, he only waits for a time to put it in execution, not in a fair gentlemany way, but behind your back, or when you are asleep, or indisposed: but I will dress his jacket for him, if I find him put his nose upon the lake again.

But only suppose then, said they, that he should slip over in the night, as he has often threatened, with a parcel of his game keepers, and take possession of your parlour and bed-chamber, which are worth more than Cracket-Island to him, do you think, he will give you time to send for Rousterdivel, as you used to do?

All the fires of Sodom and Gomorrah seize me, says John, if ever I send for Rousterdivel with his great tobacco-pipe, his sour crout, and his damned lingo, that nobody can understand. Odds-blood, an’t I as good a man as Rousterdivel or Lewis Baboon? Though I have not so many game-keepers, yet I have as good clean-made fellows about my farm as he; and if my own children will let me be insulted, it is time that John Bull was gone the way of all flesh.

But what can your children do for you, said they, when your wife, and your nurse, and your steward, will not let one of them touch a gun or a cutlass, and think there is no safety but in the dark cellar, or the coal-hole, when there is any disturbance in the yard.

Well, says John, I shall tell them another tale; my boys shall learn to defend me as they used to do. I have seen the time when the stoutest of them all durst not meddle with me, and that time shall return again, if I can get arms enough to furnish my hall, as I always had it, till now.

CHAP. VI.

_How the Nurse dreamt that =John Bull= had banished all the weavers._

We may believe that after so busy a day, as we have been describing, the Nurse was not likely to get a very good night’s rest; starting, tumbling and tossing she had in abundance, but very little sound sleep. She could not shut an eye, but presently she dreamt of some mischief or other. One time she thought the pan boiled over in the fire; at another time, that the cat’s paw was in the custard; and finally, about three o’clock in the morning, she dreamt that John Bull had banished all the weavers from his house; she saw the beams, the tradles, the shuttles, the pirns, all tumbled in a heap into a great black boat; she saw all the weavers posting to embark. When she would have seized a piece of broad cloth, behold it was a great iron cannon! When she put out her hand to save a pirn, lo, it perked up in her face in the make of a pistol! Terror and amazement awaked her; she forgot her resolution never to talk any more to John Bull about his affairs, and thought herself now called upon by heaven, to interpose in behalf of him and his children.

Accordingly, she lost no time in the morning, but went straight to the parlour, where she found John as busy as ever, talking about the orders he was to give in his house: and having told him her dream, earnestly beseeched him to tell her, whether he had any such intention, with relation to the weavers; for she thought that a person, who had ceased to be guided by her, would stick at nothing.

“The woman is crazy,” says John: “I am only thinking how I may best secure the peace and welfare of my family, and how to keep off rogues; and you ask me, if I am to banish my weavers? I’ll defend my weavers to the last drop of my blood; they shall fare no worse than I do; late or early, if they are molested, I shall be with them, and I know that they will stand by me against all the world.”

“What better protection can you desire for yourself or them,” says the nurse, “than your own game-keeper, or Rousterdivel? It would do one good to see, how that fine tall fellow will stop and turn, and do what he is bid.”