Clarissa Harlowe, Samuel Richardson [black authors fiction .txt] 📗

Two days, as I may say, off and on, have I been writing this long letter. And yet I have not sed all I would say. For, be it knone unto your Honner, as how I do not like that Captain Singleton, which I told you of in my two last letters. He is always laying his hedd and my young master’s hedd together; and I suspect much if so be some mischief is not going on between them: and still the more, as because my eldest younge lady seemes to be joined to them sometimes.

Last week my younge master sed before my fase, My harte’s blood boils over, Capten Singleton, for revenge upon this⁠—and he called your Honner by a name it is not for such a won as me to say what.⁠—Capten Singleton whispred my younge master, being I was by. So young master sed, You may say anything before Joseph; for, althoff he looks so seelie, he has as good a harte, and as good a hedd, as any sarvante in the world need to have. My conscience touched me just then. But why shoulde it? when all I do is to prevent mischeff; and seeing your Honner has so much patience, which younge master has not; so am not affeard of telling your Honner anything whatsomever.

And furthermore, I have such a desire to desarve your Honner’s bounty to me, as mackes me let nothing pass I can tell you of, to prevent harm: and too, besides, your Honner’s goodness about the Blew Bore; which I have so good an accounte of!⁠—I am sure I shall be bounden to bless your Honner the longest day I have to live.

And then the Blew Bore is not all neither: sen’, and please your Honner, the pretty Sowe (God forgive me for gesting in so serus a matter) runs in my hedd likewise. I believe I shall love her mayhap more than your Honner would have me; for she begins to be kind and good-humered, and listens, and plese your Honour, licke as if she was among beans, when I talke about the Blew Bore, and all that.

Prayey, your Honner, forgive the gesting of a poor plane man. We common fokes have our joys, and plese your Honner, lick as our betters have; and if we be sometimes snubbed, we can find our underlings to snub them agen; and if not, we can get a wife mayhap, and snub her: so are masters some how or other oursells.

But how I try your Honner’s patience!⁠—Sarvants will show their joyful hartes, tho’ off but in partinens, when encourag’d.

Be plesed from the prems’s to let me kno’ if as how I can be put upon any sarvice to sarve your Honner, and to sarve my deerest younge lady; which God grant! for I begin to be affearde for her, hearing what peple talck⁠—to be sure your Honner will not do her no harme, as a man may say. But I kno’ your Honner must be good to so wonderous a younge lady. How can you help it?⁠—But here my conscience smites me, that, but for some of my stories, which your Honner taute me, my old master, and my old lady, and the two old ’squires, would not have been able to be half so hardhearted as they be, for all my younge master and younge mistress sayes.

And here is the sad thing; they cannot come to clere up matters with my deerest young lady, because, as your Honner has ordered it, they have these stories as if bribed by me out of your Honner’s sarvant; which must not be known for fere you should kill’n and me too, and blacken the briber!⁠—Ah! your Honner! I doubte as tha I am a very vild fellow, (Lord bless my soil, I pray God!) and did not intend it.

But if my deerest younge lady should come to harm, and plese your Honner, the horsepond at the Blew Bore⁠—but Lord preserve us all from all bad mischeff, and all bad endes, I pray the Lord!⁠—For tho’ff you Honner is kinde to me in worldly pelf, yet what shall a man get to loos his soul, as holy Skrittuer says, and plese your Honner?

But natheless I am in hope of reppentence hereafter, being but a younge man, if I do wrong thro’ ignorens: your Honner being a grate man, and a grave wit; and I a poor crature, not worthy notice; and your Honner able to answer for all. But, howsomever, I am

Your Honner’s fetheful sarvant in all dewtie,

Joseph Leman.

April 15 and 16.

Monday, April 17

Honest Joseph,

You have a worse opinion of your invention than you ought to have. I must praise it again. Of a plain man’s head, I have not known many better than yours. How often have your forecast and discretion answered my wishes in cases which I could not foresee, not knowing how my general directions would succeed, or what might happen in the execution of them! You are too doubtful of your own abilities, honest Joseph; that’s your fault.⁠—But it being a fault that is owing to natural modesty, you ought rather to be pitied for it than blamed.

The affair of Miss Betterton was a youthful frolic. I love dearly to exercise my invention. I do assure you, Joseph, that I have ever had more pleasure in my contrivances, than in the end of them. I am no sensual man: but a man of spirit⁠—one woman is like another⁠—you understand me, Joseph.⁠—In coursing, all the sport is made by the winding hare⁠—a barn-door chick is better eating⁠—now you take me, Joseph.

Miss Betterton was but a tradesman’s daughter. The family, indeed, was grown rich, and aimed at a new line of gentry; and were unreasonable enough to expect a man of my family would marry her. I was honest. I gave