“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.”
