of old, crowded by the same buyers and
sellers; brisk with the same business; noisy with the same confusion of
tongues and cluttering of fowls in coops; fair with the same display
of rolls of butter, newly made, set forth in linen cloths of dazzling
whiteness; green with the same fresh show of dewy vegetables; dainty
with the same array in higglers' baskets of small shaving-glasses,
laces, braces, trouser-straps, and hardware; savoury with the same
unstinted show of delicate pigs' feet, and pies made precious by the
pork that once had walked upon them; still it was strangely changed to
Tom. For, in the centre of the market-place, he missed a statue he
had set up there as in all other places of his personal resort; and it
looked cold and bare without that ornament.
The change lay no deeper than this, for Tom was far from being sage
enough to know, that, having been disappointed in one man, it would have
been a strictly rational and eminently wise proceeding to have revenged
himself upon mankind in general, by mistrusting them one and all. Indeed
this piece of justice, though it is upheld by the authority of divers
profound poets and honourable men, bears a nearer resemblance to the
justice of that good Vizier in the Thousand-and-one Nights, who issues
orders for the destruction of all the Porters in Bagdad because one of
that unfortunate fraternity is supposed to have misconducted himself,
than to any logical, not to say Christian, system of conduct, known to
the world in later times.
Tom had so long been used to steep the Pecksniff of his fancy in his
tea, and spread him out upon his toast, and take him as a relish with
his beer, that he made but a poor breakfast on the first morning after
his expulsion. Nor did he much improve his appetite for dinner by
seriously considering his own affairs, and taking counsel thereon with
his friend the organist's assistant.
The organist's assistant gave it as his decided opinion that whatever
Tom did, he must go to London; for there was no place like it. Which
may be true in the main, though hardly, perhaps, in itself, a sufficient
reason for Tom's going there.
But Tom had thought of London before, and had coupled with it thoughts
of his sister, and of his old friend John Westlock, whose advice
he naturally felt disposed to seek in this important crisis of his
fortunes. To London, therefore, he resolved to go; and he went away to
the coach-office at once, to secure his place.
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