our family. Don't you think he is a little like
me, Humphrey?

Hum. No, not a bit; you are as ugly an old man as ever I clapped my eyes
on.

Sir R. Now that's plaguy impudent, but there's no flattery in it, and it
keeps up the independence of argument. His father, my brother Job, is of
as tame a spirit--Humphrey, you remember my brother Job?

Hum. Yes, you drove him to Russia five and twenty years ago.

Sir R. I did not drive him.

Hum. Yes, you did. You would never let him be at peace in the way of
argument.

Sir R. At peace! Zounds, he would never go to war.

Hum. He had the merit to be calm.

Sir R. So has a duck pond. He was a bit of still life; a chip; weak water
gruel; a tame rabbit, boiled to rags, without sauce or salt. He received
my arguments with his mouth open, like a poorbox gaping for half-pence,
and, good or bad, he swallowed them all without any resistance. We could
n't disagree, and so we parted.

Hum. And the poor, meek gentleman went to Russia for a quiet life.

Sir R. A quiet life! Why, he married the moment he got there, tacked
himself to the shrew relict of a Russian merchant, and continued a
speculation with her in furs, flax, potashes, tallow, linen, and leather;
what's the consequence? Thirteen months ago he broke.

Hum. Poor soul, his wife should have followed the business for him. Sir R.
I fancy she did follow it, for she died just as he broke, and now this
madcap, Frederic, is sent over to me for protection. Poor Job, now he is
in distress, I must not neglect his son.

Hum. Here comes his son; that's Mr. Frederic.

Enter FREDERIC.

Fred. Oh, my dear uncle, good morning! Your park is nothing but beauty.

Sir R. Who bid you caper over my beauty? I told you to stay in doors till
I got up.

Fred. So you did, but I entirely forgot it.

Sir R. And pray, what made you forget it?

Fred. The sun.

Sir R. The sun! he's mad; you mean the moon, 1 believe.

Fred. Oh, my dear uncle, you don't know the effect of a fine spring
morning upon a fellow just arrived from Russia. The day looked bright,
trees budding, birds singing, the park was so gay that I took a leap out
of your old balcony, made your deer fly before me like the wind, and
chased them all around the park to get an appetite for breakfast, while
you were snoring in bed, uncle.

Sir R. Oh, oh! So the effect of English sunshine upon a Russian, is to
make him jump out of a balcony, and worry my deer.

Fred. I confess