ming and few going. I saw, indeed, that buying the Talbot
estate had been a fortunate step, since the quantities of wheat we grew
there might be disposed of in America.

When Dr. Leiden was still coming twice a day to Gloucester Street, Mr.
Tom must needs get into a scrape with one of the ladies of the theatre,
and come to me in the Circle chambers for one hundred pounds. I told
him, in despair, that I had no authority to pay out his father's money.
"And so you have become master, sure enough!" he cried, in a passion.
For he was desperate. "You have worked your way in vastly well, egad,
with your Whig committee meetings and speeches. And now he is on his
back, and you have possession, you choose to cut me off. 'Slife, I know
what will be coming next!"

I pulled him into Mr. Swain's private room, where we would be free of the
clerks. "Yes, I am master here," I replied, sadly enough, as he stood
sullenly before me. "I should think you would be ashamed to own it.
When I came to your father I was content to be overseer in Talbot, and
thankful for his bounty. 'Tis no fault of mine, but your disgrace, that
his son is not managing his business, and supporting him in the rights of
his country. I am not very old, Tom. A year older than you, I believe.
But I have seen enough of life to prophesy your end and you do not
reform."

"We are turned preacher," he says, with a sneer.

"God forbid! But I have been in a sponging-house, and tasted the lowest
dregs. And if this country becomes free, as I think it will some day,
such as you will be driven to England, and die in the Fleet."

"Not while my father lives," retorts he, and throws aside the oiled silk
cape with a London name upon it. The day was rainy. I groaned. My
responsibility lay heavy upon me. And this was not my first scene with
him. He continued doggedly:--"You have no right to deny me what is not
yours. 'Twill be mine one day."

"You have no right to accuse me of thoughts that do not occur to men of
honour," I replied. "I am slower to anger than I once was, but I give
you warning now. Do you know that you will ruin your father in another
year and you continue?"

He gave me no answer. I reached for the ledger, and turning the pages,
called off to him the sums he had spent.

"Oh, have done, d--n it!" he cried, when I was not a third through.
"Are you or are you not to give me the money?"

"And you are to spend it upon an actress?" I should have called her by
a wor