The king having seen the exploits of Mrs. Puss, and being informed that she was with young, and would stock the whole country, bargained with the captain and factor for the whole ship’s cargo, and then gave them ten times as much for the cat as all the rest amounted to.  With which, taking leave of their majesties, and other great personages at court, they sailed with a fair wind for England, whither we must now attend them.

The morn had scarcely dawned when Mr. Fitzwarren stole from the bed of his beloved wife, to count over the cash, and settle the business for that day.  He had just entered the compting-house, and seated himself at the desk, when somebody came, tap, tap, at the door.  “Who’s there?” says Mr. Fitzwarren.  “A friend,” answered the other.  “What friend can come at this unseasonable time?” “A real friend is never unseasonable,” answered the other.  “I come to bring you good news of your ship Unicorn.”  The merchant bustled up in such an hurry that he forgot his gout; instantly opened the door, and who should be seen waiting but the captain and factor, with a cabinet of jewels, and a bill of lading, for which the merchant lifted up his eyes and thanked heaven for sending him such a prosperous voyage.  Then they told him the adventures of the cat, and shewed him the cabinet of jewels which they had brought for Mr. Whittington.  Upon which he cried out with great earnestness, but not in the most poetical manner,—­

  “Go, send him in, and tell him of his fame,
  And call him Mr. Whittington by name.”

It is not our business to animadvert upon these lines; we are not critics, but historians.  It is sufficient for us that they are the words of Mr. Fitzwarren; and though it is beside our purpose, and perhaps not in our power to prove him a good poet, we shall soon convince the reader that he was a good man, which was a much better character; for when some, who were present, told him that this treasure was too much for such a poor boy as Whittington, he said, “God forbid that I should deprive him or a penny; it is his own, and he shall have it to a farthing.”  He then ordered Mr. Whittington in, who was at this time cleaning the kitchen, and would have excused himself from going into the compting-house, saying, the room was rubbed, and his shoes were dirty and full of hob-nails.  The merchant, however, made him come in, and ordered a chair to be set for him.  Upon which, thinking they intended to make sport of him, as had been too often the case in the kitchen, he besought his master not to mock a poor simple fellow, who intended them no harm, but let him go about his business.  The merchant, taking him by the hand, said, “Indeed, Mr. Whittington, I am in earnest with you, and sent for you to congratulate you on your great success.  Your cat has procured you more money than I am worth in the world, and may you long enjoy it and be happy.”