it had that influence upon me.

Sir R. You had better be influenced by a rich old uncle, unless you think
the sun likely to leave you a fat legacy.

Fred. I hate legacies.

Sir R. Sir, that's mighty singular. They are pretty solid tokens, at
least.

Fred. Very melancholy tokens, uncle; they are the posthumous dispatches
Affection sends to Gratitude, to inform us we have lost a gracious friend.

Sir R. How charmingly the dog argues!

Fred. But I own my spirits ran away with me this morning. I will obey you
better in future; for they tell me you are a very worthy, good sort of old
gentleman.

Sir R. Now who had the familiar impudence to tell you that? Fred. Old
rusty, there.

Sir R. Why Humphrey, you didn't?

Hum. Yes, but I did though.

Fred, Yes, he did, and on that score I shall be anxious to show you
obedience, for 't is as meritorious to attempt sharing a good man's heart,
as it is paltry to have designs upon a rich man's money. A noble nature
aims its attentions full breast high, uncle; a mean mind levels its dirty
assiduities at the pocket.

Sir R. (Shaking him by the hand.) Jump out of every window I have in my
house; hunt my deer into high fevers, my fine fellow! Ay, that's right.
This is spunk, and plain speaking. Give me a man who is always flinging
his dissent to my doctrines smack in my teeth.

Fred. I disagree with you there, uncle.

Hum. And so do I.

Fred. You! you forward puppy! If you were not so old, I'd knock you down.

Sir R. I'll knock you down, if you do. I won't have my servants thumped
into dumb flattery.

Hum. Come, you are ruffled. Let us go to the business of the morning.

Sir R. I hate the business of the morning. Don't you see we are engaged in
discussion. I tell you, I hate the business of the morning.

Hum. No you don't.

Sir R. Don't I? Why not?

Hum. Because 't is charity.

Sir R. Pshaw! Well, we must not neglect the business, if there be any
distress in the parish. Read the list, Humphrey.

Hum. (Taking out a paper and reading.) "Jonathan Huggins, of Muck Mead, is
put in prison for debt."

Sir R. Why, it was only last week that Gripe, the attorney, recovered two
cottages for him by law, worth sixty pounds.

Hum. Yes, and charged a hundred for his trouble; so seized the cottages
for part of his bill, and threw Jonathan into jail for the remainder.

Sir R. A harpy! I must relieve the poor fellow's distress.

Fred. And I must kick his attorney.

Hum. (Rea