ee. He is the growth of his own land, a kind
of Autocthonus, like the Athenians that sprang out of their own ground,
or barnacles that grow upon trees in Scotland. His homely education has
rendered him a native only of his own soil and a foreigner to all other
places, from which he differs in language, manner of living, and
behaviour, which are as rugged as the coat of a colt that has been bred
upon a common. The custom of being the best man in his own territories
has made him the worst everywhere else. He assumes the upper end of the
table at an ale-house as his birthright, receives the homage of his
company, which are always subordinate, and dispenses ale and
communication like a self-conforming teacher in a conventicle. The chief
points he treats on are the memoirs of his dogs and horses, which he
repeats as often as a holder-forth that has but two sermons, to which if
he adds the history of his hawks and fishing he is very painful and
laborious. He does his endeavour to appear a droll, but his wit being,
like his estate, within the compass of a hedge, is so profound and
obscure to a stranger that it requires a commentary, and is not to be
understood without a perfect knowledge of all circumstances of persons
and the particular idiom of the place. He has no ambition to appear a
person of civil prudence or understanding more than in putting off a
lame, infirm jade for sound wind and limb, to which purpose he brings
his squirehood and groom to vouch, and, rather than fail, will outswear
an affidavit-man. The top of his entertainment is horrible strong beer,
which he pours into his guests (as the Dutch did water into our
merchants when they tortured them at Amboyna) till they confess they can
drink no more, and then he triumphs over them as subdued and vanquished,
no less by the strength of his brain than his drink. When he salutes a
man he lays violent hands upon him, and grips and shakes him like a fit
of an ague; and when he accosts a lady he stamps with his foot, like a
French fencer, and makes a lunge at her, in which he always misses his
aim, too high or too low, and hits her on the nose or chin. He is never
without some rough-handed flatterer, that rubs him, like a horse, with a
curry-comb till he kicks and grunts with the pleasure of it. He has old
family stories and jests, that fell to him with the estate, and have
been left from heir to heir time out of mind. With these he entertains
all comers over and over, an