op; so we'll talk
that over there.

Down I went, they paying diligent attendance on my steps.

When I came into the shop, seeing no chair or stool, I went behind the
compter, and sat down under an arched kind of canopy of carved work,
which these proud traders, emulating the royal niche-fillers, often give
themselves, while a joint-stool, perhaps, serves those by whom they get
their bread: such is the dignity of trade in this mercantile nation!

I looked about me, and above me; and told them I was very proud of my
seat; asking, if John were ever permitted to fill this superb niche?

Perhaps he was, he said, very surlily.

That is it that makes thee looks so like a statue, man.

John looked plaguy glum upon me. But his man Joseph and my man Will.
turned round with their backs to us, to hide their grinning, with each
his fist in his mouth.

I asked, what it was they sold?

Powder, and wash-balls, and snuff, they said; and gloves and stockings.

O come, I'll be your customer. Will. do I want wash-balls?

Yes, and please your Honour, you can dispense with one or two.

Give him half a dozen, dame Smith.

She told me she must come where I was, to serve them. Pray, Sir, walk
from behind the compter.

Indeed but I won't. The shop shall be mine. Where are they, if a
customer shall come in?

She pointed over my head, with a purse mouth, as if she would not have
simpered, could she have helped it. I reached down the glass, and gave
Will. six. There--put 'em up, Sirrah.

He did, grinning with his teeth out before; which touching my conscience,
as the loss of them was owing to me, Joseph, said I, come hither. Come
hither, man, when I bid thee.

He stalked towards me, his hands behind him, half willing, and half
unwilling.

I suddenly wrapt my arm round his neck. Will. thy penknife, this moment.
D----n the fellow, where's thy penknife?

O Lord! said the pollard-headed dog, struggling to get his head loose
from under my arm, while my other hand was muzzling about his cursed
chaps, as if I would take his teeth out.

I will pay thee a good price, man: don't struggle thus? The penknife,
Will.!

O Lord, cried Joseph, struggling still more and more: and out comes
Will.'s pruning-knife; for the rascal is a gardener in the country. I
have only this, Sir.

The best in the world to launch a gum. D----n the fellow, why dost
struggle thus?

Master and Mistress Smith being afraid, I suppose, that I had a d