himself, "Beast, miser, that I am, to disgrace the padrone with all
these savings in his service!" ran downstairs into his pantry, caught
up his hat and stick, and in a few moments more was seen trudging off to
the neighbouring town of L--------.

Apparently the poor Italian succeeded, for he came back that evening in
time to prepare the thin gruel which made his master's supper, with a
suit of black,--a little threadbare, but still highly respectable,--two
shirt fronts, and two white cravats. But out of all this finery,
Jackeymo held the small-clothes in especial veneration; for as they had
cost exactly what the medallion had sold for, so it seemed to him that
San Giacomo had heard his prayer in that quarter to which he had more
exclusively directed the saint's direction. The other habiliments came
to him in the merely human process of sale and barter; the small-clothes
were the personal gratuity of San Giacomo!

CHAPTER VIII.

Life has been subjected to many ingenious comparisons; and if we do
not understand it any better, it is not for want of what is called
"reasoning by illustration." Amongst other resemblances, there are
moments when, to a quiet contemplator, it suggests the image of one of
those rotatory entertainments commonly seen in fairs, and known by the
name of "whirligigs," or "roundabouts," in which each participator of
the pastime, seated on his hobby, is always apparently in the act of
pursuing some one before him, while he is pursued by some one behind.
Man, and woman too, are naturally animals of chase; the greatest still
find something to follow, and there is no one too humble not to be an
object of prey to another. Thus, confining our view to the village of
Hazeldean, we behold in this whirligig Dr. Riccabocca spurring his hobby
after Lenny Fairfield; and Miss Jemima, on her decorous side-saddle,
whipping after Dr. Riccabocca. Why, with so long and intimate a
conviction of the villany of our sex, Miss Jemima should resolve upon
giving the male animal one more chance of redeeming itself in her eyes,
I leave to the explanation of those gentlemen who profess to find
"their only books in woman's looks." Perhaps it might be from the
over-tenderness and clemency of Miss Jemima's nature; perhaps it might
be that as yet she had only experienced the villany of man born and
reared in these cold northern climates, and in the land of Petrarch and
Romeo, of the citron and myrtle, there was reason to exp