The Adventures of Sir Launcelot Greaves | Page 4

figure of a black lion. The kitchen, in
which they assembled, was the only room for entertainment in the
house, paved with red bricks, remarkably clean, furnished with three or

four Windsor chairs, adorned with shining plates of pewter, and copper
saucepans, nicely scoured, that even dazzled the eyes of the' beholder;
while a cheerful fire of sea-coal blazed in the chimney. Three of the
travellers, who arrived on horseback, having seen their cattle properly
accommodated in the stable, agreed to pass the time, until the weather
should clear up, over a bowl of rumbo, which was accordingly prepared.
But the fourth, refusing to join their company, took his station at the
opposite side of the chimney, and called for a pint of twopenny, with
which he indulged himself apart. At a little distance, on his left hand,
there was another group, consisting of the landlady, a decent widow,
her two daughters, the elder of whom seemed to be about the age of
fifteen, and a country lad, who served both as waiter and ostler.
The social triumvirate was composed of Mr. Fillet, a country
practitioner in surgery and midwifery, Captain Crowe, and his nephew
Mr. Thomas Clarke, an attorney. Fillet was a man of some education,
and a great deal of experience, shrewd, sly, and sensible. Captain
Crowe had commanded a merchant ship in the Mediterranean trade for
many years, and saved some money by dint of frugality and traffic. He
was an excellent seaman, brave, active, friendly in his way, and
scrupulously honest; but as little acquainted with the world as a sucking
child; whimsical, impatient, and so impetuous, that he could not help
breaking in upon the conversation, whatever it might be, with repeated
interruptions, that seemed to burst from him by involuntary impulse.
When he himself attempted to speak he never finished his period; but
made such a number of abrupt transitions, that his discourse seemed to
be an unconnected series of unfinished sentences, the meaning of which
it was not easy to decipher.
His nephew, Tom Clarke, was a young fellow, whose goodness of heart
even the exercise of his profession had not been able to corrupt. Before
strangers he never owned himself an attorney without blushing, though
he had no reason to blush for his own practice, for he constantly
refused to engage in the cause of any client whose character was
equivocal, and was never known to act with such industry as when
concerned for the widow and orphan, or any other object that sued in
forma pauperis. Indeed, he was so replete with human kindness, that as

often as an affecting story or circumstance was told in his hearing, it
overflowed at his eyes. Being of a warm complexion, he was very
susceptible of passion, and somewhat libertine in his amours. In other
respects, he piqued himself on understanding the practice of the courts,
and in private company he took pleasure in laying down the law; but he
was an indifferent orator, and tediously circumstantial in his
explanations. His stature was rather diminutive; but, upon the whole, he
had some title to the character of a pretty, dapper, little fellow.
The solitary guest had something very forbidding in his aspect, which
was contracted by an habitual frown. His eyes were small and red, and
so deep set in the sockets, that each appeared like the unextinguished
snuff of a farthing candle, gleaming through the horn of a dark lanthorn.
His nostrils were elevated in scorn, as if his sense of smelling had been
perpetually offended by some unsavoury odour; and he looked as if he
wanted to shrink within himself from the impertinence of society. He
wore a black periwig as straight as the pinions of a raven, and this was
covered with a hat flapped, and fastened to his head by a speckled
handkerchief tied under his chin. He was wrapped in a greatcoat of
brown frieze, under which he seemed to conceal a small bundle. His
name was Ferret, and his character distinguished by three peculiarities.
He was never seen to smile; he was never heard to speak in praise of
any person whatsoever; and he was never known to give a direct
answer to any question that was asked; but seemed, on all occasions, to
be actuated by the most perverse spirit of contradiction.
Captain Crowe, having remarked that it was squally weather, asked
how far it was to the next market town; and understanding that the
distance was not less than six miles, said he had a good mind to come
to an anchor for the night, if so be as he could have a tolerable berth in
this here harbour. Mr. Fillet, perceiving by his style that he was a
seafaring gentleman, observed that their landlady was not used