I am not the man to hint, while one is admiring the
silken web of Persia, that it has been spun from the entrails of a
miserable worm."
"Well," said I, "if you will tell me nothing of your literary history,
let me know at least if you have had any farther intelligence from
Doubting Castle."
"Willingly," replied he, "though I have but little to communicate."
THE BOOBY SQUIRE.
A long time elapsed, said Buckthorne, without my receiving any accounts
of my cousin and his estate. Indeed, I felt so much soreness on the
subject, that I wished, if possible, to shut it from my thoughts. At
length chance took me into that part of the country, and I could not
refrain from making some inquiries.
I learnt that my cousin had grown up ignorant, self-willed, and
clownish. His ignorance and clownishness had prevented his mingling
with the neighboring gentry. In spite of his great fortune he had been
unsuccessful in an attempt to gain the hand of the daughter of the
parson, and had at length shrunk into the limits of such society as a
mere man of wealth can gather in a country neighborhood.
He kept horses and hounds and a roaring table, at which were collected
the loose livers of the country round, and the shabby gentlemen of a
village in the vicinity. When he could get no other company he would
smoke and drink with his own servants, who in their turns fleeced and
despised him. Still, with all this apparent prodigality, he had a
leaven of the old man in him, which showed that he was his true-born
son.
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