ABSTRACT
When Ned alighted at Lord Ravensdale’s, he enquired for Captain Rivers, and was told he had gone to bed three hours before. e servant then shewed him up to his chamber, where a pair of wax candles were burning, and where David Morgan was stirring the re, and waiting to attend him. When they were by themselves, ‘Well, Morgan,’ said he, ‘what have you been doing, and how do you like Dublin?’ ‘Oh! master, ’tis the nest place in all the world,’ said he. ‘Doing! Oh, such rare doing! I never saw the like in all my life. My lord and you had hardly been gone half an hour, when company/ came to Mr. O’Frizzle, my lord’s gentleman, and to Mrs. Mulroony, the house-keeper – for you must know they are very great, and always see company together. ere was Mrs. Geoghegan, Lady Rumpus’s waiting woman, and Miss Flanagan her niece; and there was Monsieur Papillote, a sweetheart of Miss Flanagan’s, and Mr. Sideboard my lord’s butler – and to be sure they were all dressed like so many lords and ladies. And the ladies came carried by men in leather boxes, but the gentlemen walked – and they were all shewed in to Mrs. Mulroony’s room, which she said would be more convenient than the parlour, as Captain Rivers was in town; and there they had tea and cards.’ ‘Well, and did you play cards too?’ said Ned. ‘Oh! no,’ said Morgan: ‘Does your honour think I would be such a fool as to lose my little money among folks so much above me?’ ‘Hem! hem!’ said Ned, ‘you were very wise indeed – Go on – what did you do then?’ ‘Why, Mrs. Mulroony/ desired the cook to have supper by eleven; and she said, ‘Yes, to be sure, madam.’ So the maids got their tea when the ladies had done, and they invited me and my Lord’s footman to drink tea with them; and so we all did, to be sure: and a er we had done, then we all went and played blindman’s bu in the servants’ hall till supper was ready, and then the footmen went to attend upon the ladies; and when they had done, it was brought in to us; and a rare supper it was, and plenty of it, enough to keep a Welch squire for a fortnight: and so we had hardly done when Mr. Sideboard brought a bottle of claret, and gave it to me because I was a stranger; and so I poured it into a large bowl of punch for the good of the company, and we all drank it, and were as happy as so many ddlers; – and we had hardly nished when your honour came home.’ ‘Well,’ said Ned, ’tis very
ne indeed. But go now to your bed – you need not stay up for me.’ So Morgan retired, and le his master to himself./
When he was alone, the events of the day came crowding on his mind. ‘What an idiot am I!’ said he to himself, ‘and how improper to be le to my own guidance! I have not yet been eight-and-forty hours from the protection of my father, and how bitterly do I feel the want of him! Into what distress have my folly and inexperience already led me!’ He now took out his purse, and laid it on the table: he surveyed it for a moment in silence, as if afraid to count its contents. At last he emptied them out, and found that of the y guineas which his father gave him but two days before, he had but seventeen remaining; and that he had not got one earthly thing, not even pleasure, in exchange. ‘ is sum,’ said he, ‘which I have thus lost and squandered in one day, would have maintained my poor father for a whole year. Yet,’ said he, ‘it shall not be wholly lost; it shall at least purchase me experience: and I have this comfort, that thought I have lost it by folly, I have not squandered it on/ vice. Oh! my loved father,’ said he, ‘thou art now sleeping in thy bed! Perhaps in the very hour in which thy son was sitting among prostitutes, thy hands were li ed to Heaven in prayer for him. Nor shall they be li ed up in vain,’ said he; ‘I am not contaminated by the vile society into which I was ignorantly introduced, and into which nothing shall ever betray me again. I will prostrate myself before thy father and mine; and I will commit myself in con dence to his protection.’ With these words he retired to his bedside, and, falling on his knees, spent ten minutes in the most devout prayer. He arose refreshed – the burthen of having done wrong was removed – and a secret gleam of satisfaction, which the consciousness of acting right always inspires, shot through his soul, and restored his spirits to composure. He now undressed to go to bed; but rst he determined to put back the remains of his money in his trunk, and never to carry about him more than a guinea/ or two at a time, for fear of accidents. He returned it therefore to the place from whence he took it; and in rummaging about to get a clean night-cap, was surprised to see wedged in a corner his father’s tobacco-box. He could not conceive who had put it there; yet he was glad to see it for the sake of him to whom it belonged; for since he had lost the watch, he had no little keep-sake to remember him by. He took it out, and was going to kiss it; but when he felt it, he was at no loss to know who put it there – the good and generous curate had indeed conveyed it there himself, and in it the y guineas which he could not prevail on his son to take. Ned stood in no need of this present to endear his father to him; yet the surprise at this unexpected generosity, the delicacy with which it was managed, and the solid comfort which it brought, almost overwhelmed him with gratitude. e fulness of his heart found a vent at his eyes; and now, all burthens being removed, he surrendered himself to/ the sweet blessing of happy and tranquil sleep.
