The Man of Feeling | Page 9

hand, which he seemed to manage with a particular good
grace. As he passed him on the steps, the stranger very politely made
him a bow, which Harley returned, though he could not remember ever
having seen him before. He asked Harley, in the same civil manner, if
he was going to wait on his friend the baronet. "For I was just calling,"
said he, "and am sorry to find that he is gone for some days into the
country."
Harley thanked him for his information, and was turning from the door,
when the other observed that it would be proper to leave his name, and
very obligingly knocked for that purpose.
"Here is a gentleman, Tom, who meant to have waited on your master."
"Your name, if you please, sir?"
"Harley."
"You'll remember, Tom, Harley."
The door was shut. "Since we are here," said he, "we shall not lose our
walk if we add a little to it by a turn or two in Hyde Park."
He accompanied this proposal with a second bow, and Harley accepted
of it by another in return.
The conversation, as they walked, was brilliant on the side of his
companion. The playhouse, the opera, with every occurrence in high
life, he seemed perfectly master of; and talked of some reigning
beauties of quality in a manner the most feeling in the world. Harley
admired the happiness of his vivacity, and, opposite as it was to the
reserve of his own nature, began to be much pleased with its effects.
Though I am not of opinion with some wise men, that the existence of
objects depends on idea, yet I am convinced that their appearance is not
a little influenced by it. The optics of some minds are in so unlucky a
perspective as to throw a certain shade on every picture that is
presented to them, while those of others (of which number was Harley),
like the mirrors of the ladies, have a wonderful effect in bettering their
complexions. Through such a medium perhaps he was looking on his
present companion.
When they had finished their walk, and were returning by the corner of
the Park, they observed a board hung out of a window signifying, "An
excellent ORDINARY on Saturdays and Sundays." It happened to be
Saturday, and the table was covered for the purpose.

"What if we should go in and dine here, if you happen not to be
engaged, sir?" said the young gentleman. "It is not impossible but we
shall meet with some original or other; it is a sort of humour I like
hugely."
Harley made no objection, and the stranger showed him the way into
the parlour.
He was placed, by the courtesy of his introductor, in an arm-chair that
stood at one side of the fire. Over against him was seated a man of a
grave considering aspect, with that look of sober prudence which
indicates what is commonly called a warm man. He wore a pretty large
wig, which had once been white, but was now of a brownish yellow;
his coat was one of those modest-coloured drabs which mock the
injuries of dust and dirt; two jack-boots concealed, in part, the
well-mended knees of an old pair of buckskin breeches; while the
spotted handkerchief round his neck preserved at once its owner from
catching cold and his neck-cloth from being dirtied. Next him sat
another man, with a tankard in his hand and a quid of tobacco in his
cheek, whose eye was rather more vivacious, and whose dress was
something smarter.
The first-mentioned gentleman took notice that the room had been so
lately washed, as not to have had time to dry, and remarked that wet
lodging was unwholesome for man or beast. He looked round at the
same time for a poker to stir the fire with, which, he at last observed to
the company, the people of the house had removed in order to save
their coals. This difficulty, however, he overcame by the help of
Harley's stick, saying, "that as they should, no doubt, pay for their fire
in some shape or other, he saw no reason why they should not have the
use of it while they sat."
The door was now opened for the admission of dinner. "I don't know
how it is with you, gentlemen," said Harley's new acquaintance, "but I
am afraid I shall not be able to get down a morsel at this horrid
mechanical hour of dining." He sat down, however, and did not show
any want of appetite by his eating. He took upon him the carving of the
meat, and criticised on the goodness of the pudding.
When the table-cloth was removed, he proposed calling for some punch,
which was readily agreed to;