Mr. Lorquison filled Mr. Selby’s glass, and then rubbed his hands, as one who has suddenly the prospect of a good social evening before him.
A PARALLEL NIGHT IN A BED.
“Yes,” continued Mr. Selby. “This didn’t happen to me, mind! But talking about miserable nights, reminds me of a case. There was a fellow on my uncle’s estate — you know it, Spence — at Benlea. I made friends with him when I was a boy, and such a fellow I think I never met. He was a daring fellow, a determined poacher — in short, a good-for-nothing; — what your Scotch friends, sir, would call a ‘ne’er-do-weel: and he went to the ‘ deil as fast as he could. His name was Tom Clayper. We called him TomClaypipe, because he always had one in his mouth. Well, the fellow took a fancy to me, and taught me some tricks, which I hope I have forgotten. When we’re young we’re not very choice in our friendships. But Tom really had some good points. I have known him send a hare secretly to a poor widow, who wanted a bit of something. The hare, you say, cost him little. Perhaps he did not reckon how much it did cost him. However, from poaching to highway robbery, and from
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that to burglary, was but a step for Tom. He found Benlea too hot for him, and disappeared. I met him ten years afterwards. Looking in the paper one day, I saw there was a trial of one with many aliases, for feloniously entering a certain house — Squire Pell’s, of Boddington — and stealing, &c., &c. Among the list of aliases stood the name of Clayper. He was condemned, and sentenced to transportation for the term of his natural life.
“The sight of the poor fellow’s name, and his position, called up some boyish feelings of mine, and I made up my mind to go and see him. I was able to procure admission. Tom recognised me at once, and held out his hand. He was never ashamed of himself; which was one characteristic he had. We talked over old times. I was capable of appreciating what merits Mr. Clayper pos- sessed, now that I had seen more of the world, and he was certainly an extraordinary fellow. As I was still young enough to be pleased at hearing adventures; and as Tom, now that his career seemed closed, was gratified in relating his, I had Tom’s history before we parted. Its finale seems to have been this: for Tom was rather shy of speaking about certain matters — a peculiarity I have noticed in some of your rips. He had his feelings of delicacy where women are concerned. A rather pretty girl was in service at the Squire’s — Squire Pell, I think T told you. To her Tom paid court. He was richer in presents than in reputation. I fancy the girl gave him reason to think she liked him. At all events she did not return his fineries. One evening, Mr. Tom met the Colonel in her company — somewhere about the grounds. Tom assured me that he passed them civilly; but the next time he came across the Colonel he was surly, and managed to insult him, and then to speak his
mind, winch was none of the cleanest. The Colonel, you must know, was engaged at the time to be married to Squire Pell’s only daughter —money, but no beauty. So he let Tom get the best of him; but from that day, Tom says, he felt he had an enemy, and knew who that enemy was. Wasn’t he a coward to hunt a poor devil like that in the dark?’ said Tom to me, and declared he knew the Colonel was a coward, and was determined to be revenged, and satisfied of it.