But this is
not the cause of my present writing. The bearer, Mr. Timothy
Trickle, is a distant relation of yours, being the son of the
cousin of your aunt Margery, and is not over and above well as
to worldly matters. He thinks of going to London, to see for
some post in the excise or customs if so be that you will
recommend him to some great man of your acquaintance, and give
him a small matter to keep him till he is provided. I doubt not,
nephew, but you will be glad to serve him, if it was no more
but for the respect you bear to me, who am,--Loving nephew,
your affectionate uncle, and servant to command,
"Tobiah Trunnion."
It would be a difficult task for the inimitable Hogarth himself
to exhibit the ludicrous expression of the commodore's countenance
while he read this letter. It was not a stare of astonishment, a
convulsion of rage, or a ghastly grin of revenge; but an association
of all three, that took possession of his features. At length, he
hawked up, with incredible straining, the interjection, "Ah!" that
seemed to have stuck some time in his windpipe; and thus gave vent
to his indignation: "Have I come alongside of you at last, you old
stinking curmudgeon? You lie, you lousy hulk! ye lie! you did all
in your power to founder me when I was a stripling; and as for being
graceless and wicked, and keeping bad company, you tell a d--d lie
again, you thief! there was not a more peaceable lad in the county,
and I kept no bad company but your own, d'ye see.
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