“You shall direct me into the right path, Susannah,” replied I.
“I am too young to be a guide, Japhet,” replied she, smiling; “but not too young, I hope, to be a friend.”
The next day my clothes came home, and I put them on. I looked at myself in the glass, and was anything but pleased; but as my head was shaved, it was of little consequence what I wore; so I consoled myself. Mr Cophagus sent for a barber and ordered me a wig, which was to be ready in a few days; when it was ready I put it on, and altogether did not dislike my appearance. I flattered myself that if I was a Quaker, at all events I was a very good looking and a very smart one; and when, a day or two afterwards, a reunion of friends took place at Mr Cophagus’s house to introduce me to them, I perceived, with much satisfaction, that there was no young man who could compete with me. After this, I was much more reconciled to my transformation.
I prosper in every way, and become reconciled to my situation.
Mr Cophagus was not idle. In a few weeks he had rented a shop for me, and furnished it much better than his own in Smithfield; the upper part of the house was let off, as I was to reside with the family. When it was ready, I went over it with him, and was satisfied; all I wished for was Timothy as an assistant, but that wish was unavailing, as I knew not where to find him.
That evening I observed to Mr Cophagus, that I did not much like putting my name over the shop. The fact was, that my pride forbade it, and I could not bear the idea, that Japhet Newland, at whose knock every aristocratic door had flown open, should appear in gold letters above a shop-window. “There are many reasons against it,” observed I. “One is, that it is not my real name—I should like to take the name of Cophagus; another is, that the name, being so well known, may attract those who formerly knew me, and I should not wish that they should come in and mock me; another is—”
“Japhet Newland,” interrupted Susannah, with more severity than I ever had seen in her sweet countenance, “do not trouble thyself with giving thy reasons, seeing thou hast given every reason but the right one, which is, that thy pride revolts at it.”
“I was about to observe,” replied I, “that it was a name that sounded of mammon, and not fitting for one of our persuasion. But, Susannah, you have accused me of pride, and I will now raise no further objections. Japhet Newland it shall be, and let us speak no more upon the subject.”
“If I have wronged thee, Japhet, much do I crave thy forgiveness,” replied Susannah. “But it is God alone who knoweth the secrets of our hearts. I was presumptuous, and you must pardon me.”
“Susannah, it is I who ought to plead for pardon; you know me better than I know myself. It was pride, and nothing but pride—but you have cured me.”