it; but it won't give me cold, I believe.
[_A noise without._

_Bur._ Heigh! they are playing up old Harry below! I'll run, and see
what's the matter. Make haste after me, do, now! [_Exit BUR._

_Job._ I don't care for the bankruptcy now. I can face my creditors,
like an honest man; and I can crawl to my grave, afterwards, as poor
as a church-mouse. What does it signify? Job Thornberry has no
reason now to wish himself worth a groat:--the old ironmonger and
brazier has nobody to board his money for now! I was only saving for
my daughter; and she has run away from her doating, foolish
father,--and struck down my heart--flat--flat.--

_Enter PEREGRINE._

Well, who are you?

_Pereg._ A friend.

_Job._ Then, I'm sorry to see you. I have just been ruin'd by a
friend; and never wish to have another friend again, as long as I
live.--No, nor any ungrateful, undutiful--Poh!--I don't recollect
your face.

_Pereg._ Climate, and years, have been at work on it. While
Europeans are scorching under an Indian sun, Time is doubly busy in
fanning their features with his wings. But, do you remember no trace
of me?

_Job._ No, I tell you. If you have any thing to say, say it. I have
something to settle below with my daughter--I mean, with the people
in the shop;--they are impatient; and the morning has half run away,
before she knew I should be up--I mean, before I have had time to
get on my coat and waistcoat, she gave me--I mean--I mean, if you
have any business, tell it, at once.

_Pereg._ I _will_ tell it at once. You seem agitated. The harpies,
whom I pass'd in your shop, inform'd me of your sudden misfortune,
but do not despair yet.

_Job._ Aye, I'm going to be a bankrupt--but that don't signify. Go
on: it isn't that;--they'll find all fair;--but, go on.

_Pereg._ I will. 'Tis just thirty years ago, since I left England.

_Job._ That's a little after the time I set up in the hardware
business.

_Pereg._ About that time, a lad of fifteen years entered your shop:
he had the appearance of a gentleman's son; and told you he had
heard, by accident, as he was wandering through the streets of
Penzance, some of your neighbours speak of Job Thornberry's goodness
to persons in distress.

_Job._ I believe he told a lie there.

_Pereg._ Not in that instance, though he did in another.

_Job._ I remember him. He was a fine, bluff, boy!

_Pereg._ He had lost his pa