“’Good morning to your warships now, and
a merry Christmas all of you! And the merrier
both for rich and poor, when gentlemen see their almsgiving.
Lest you deny yourselves the pleasure, I will aid your
warships. And to save you the trouble of following
me, when your guns be loaded—this is my
strawberry mare, gentlemen, only with a little cream
on her. Gentlemen all, in the name of the King,
I thank you.’
“All this while he was casting their money among
the poor folk by the handful; and then he spak kaindly
to the red mare, and wor over the back of the hill
in two zeconds, and best part of two maile away, I
reckon, afore ever a gun wor loaded."*
* The truth of this story is well established by first-rate
tradition.
[Illustration: 341.jpg Tailpiece]
TWO FOOLS TOGETHER
[Illustration: 342.jpg Illustrated Capital]
That story of John Fry’s, instead of causing
any amusement, gave us great disquietude; not only
because it showed that Tom Faggus could not resist
sudden temptation and the delight of wildness, but
also that we greatly feared lest the King’s
pardon might be annulled, and all his kindness cancelled,
by a reckless deed of that sort. It was true (as
Annie insisted continually, even with tears, to wear
in her arguments) that Tom had not brought away anything,
except the warrants, which were of no use at all,
after receipt of the pardon; neither had he used any
violence, except just to frighten people; but could
it be established, even towards Christmas-time, that
Tom had a right to give alms, right and left, out
of other people’s money?
Dear Annie appeared to believe that it could; saying
that if the rich continually chose to forget the poor,
a man who forced them to remember, and so to do good
to themselves and to others, was a public benefactor,
and entitled to every blessing. But I knew, and
so Lizzie knew—John Fry being now out of
hearing—that this was not sound argument.
For, if it came to that, any man might take the King
by the throat, and make him cast away among the poor
the money which he wanted sadly for Her Grace the
Duchess, and the beautiful Countess, of this, and of
that. Lizzie, of course, knew nothing about His
Majesty’s diversions, which were not fit for
a young maid’s thoughts; but I now put the form
of the argument as it occurred to me.
Therefore I said, once for all (and both my sisters
always listened when I used the deep voice from my
chest):
“Tom Faggus hath done wrong herein; wrong to
himself, and to our Annie. All he need have done
was to show his pardon, and the magistrates would
have rejoiced with him. He might have led a most
godly life, and have been respected by everybody;
and knowing how brave Tom is, I thought that he would
have done as much. Now if I were in love with
a maid”—I put it thus for the sake
of poor Lizzie—“never would I so imperil
my life, and her fortune in life along with me, for
the sake of a poor diversion. A man’s first
duty is to the women, who are forced to hang upon
him”—
