Lavengro, George Borrow [i love reading books txt] 📗
- Author: George Borrow
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Such is a brief account of Francis Ardry—of my friend Francis Ardry; for the acquaintance, commenced in the singular manner with which the reader is acquainted, speedily ripened into a friendship which endured through many long years of separation, and which still endures certainly on my part, and on his—if he lives; but it is many years since I have heard from Francis Ardry.
And yet many people would have thought it impossible for our friendship to have lasted a week, for in many respects no two people could be more dissimilar. He was an Irishman, I an Englishman; he fiery, enthusiastic and openhearted, I neither fiery, enthusiastic nor openhearted; he fond of pleasure and dissipation, I of study and reflection. Yet it is of such dissimilar elements that the most lasting friendships are formed: we do not like counterparts of ourselves. “Two great talkers will not travel far together,” is a Spanish saying; I will add, “Nor two silent people;” we naturally love our opposites.
So Francis Ardry came to see me, and right glad I was to see him, for I had just flung my books and papers aside, and was wishing for a little social converse; and when we had conversed for some little time together, Francis Ardry proposed that we should go to the play to see Kean; so we went to the play, and saw—not Kean, who at that time was ashamed to show himself, but—a man who was not ashamed to show himself, and who people said was a much better man than Kean—as I have no doubt he was—though whether he was a better actor I cannot say, for I never saw Kean.141
Two or three evenings after, Francis Ardry came to see me again, and again we went out together, and Francis Ardry took me to—shall I say?—why not?—a gaming-house, where I saw people playing, and where I saw Francis Ardry play and lose five guineas, and where I lost nothing, because I did not play, though I felt somewhat inclined; for a man with a white hat and a sparkling eye held up a box which contained something which rattled, and asked me to fling the bones. “There is nothing like flinging the bones!” said he, and then I thought I should like to know what kind of thing flinging the bones was; I, however, restrained myself. “There is nothing like flinging the bones!” shouted the man, as my friend and myself left the room.
Long life and prosperity to Francis Ardry! but for him I should not have obtained knowledge which I did of the strange and eccentric places of London. Some of the places to which he took me were very strange places indeed! but, however strange the places were, I observed that the inhabitants thought there were no places like their several places, and no occupations like their several occupations; and among other strange places to which Francis Ardry conducted me, was a place not far from the abbey church of Westminster.
Before we entered this place our ears were greeted by a confused hubbub of human voices, squealing of rats, barking of dogs, and the cries of various other animals. Here we beheld a kind of cockpit, around which a great many people, seeming of all ranks, but chiefly of the lower, were gathered, and in it we saw a dog destroy a great many rats in a very small period; and when the dog had destroyed the rats, we saw a fight between a dog and a bear, then a fight between two dogs, then ⸻
After the diversions of the day were over, my friend introduced me to the genius of the place, a small man of about five feet high, with a very sharp countenance, and dressed in a brown jockey coat, and top boots. “Joey,”142 said he, “this is a friend of mine.” Joey nodded to me with a patronising air. “Glad to see you, sir!—want a dog?”
“No,” said I.
“You have got one, then—want to match him?”
“We have a dog at home,” said I, “in the country; but I can’t say I should like to match him. Indeed, I do not like dog-fighting.”
“Not like dog-fighting!” said the man, staring.
“The truth is, Joe, that he is just come to town.”
“So I should think; he looks rather green—not like dog-fighting!”
“Nothing like it, is there, Joey?”
“I should think not; what is like
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