The Expedition of Humphry Clinker

130 TOBIAS SMOLLETT
Cropdale metamorphosed into a miserable blind wretch, feeling
his way with a long stick from post to post, and rolling about two
bald unlighted orbs instead of eyes. I was exceedingly shocked at
having so narrowly escaped the concern and disgrace that would
have attended such a misapplication of vengeance: but, next day,
Tim prevailed upon a friend of mine to come and solicit my for-
giveness, and offer his note, payable in six weeks, for the price of
the poney.—This gentleman gave me to understand, that the blind
man was no other than Cropdale, who having seen me advancing,
and guessing my intent, had immediately converted himself into
the object aforesaid.—I was so diverted at the ingenuity of the
evasion, that I agreed to pardon his offence, refusing his note, how-
ever, that I might keep a prosecution for felony hanging over his
head, as a security for his future good behaviour—But Timothy
would by no means trust himself in my hands till the note was
accepted—then he made his appearance at my door as a blind
beggar, and imposed in such a manner upon my man, who had
been his old acquaintance and pot-companion, that the fellow
threw the door in his face, and even threatened to give him the
bastinado. Hearing a noise in the hall, I went thither, and im-
mediately recollecting the figure I had passed in the street, accosted
him by his own name, to the unspeakable astonishment of the
footman.’
Birkin declared he loved a joke as well as another; but asked if
any of the company could tell where Mr. Cropdale lodged, that he
might send him a proposal about restitution, before the boots
should be made away with. ‘I would willingly give him a pair of new
shoes, (said he) and half a guinea into the bargain, for the boots,
which fitted me like a glove; and I shan’t be able to get the fellows
of them till the good weather for riding is over.’ The stuttering
wit declared, that the only secret which Cropdale ever kept, was
the place of his lodgings; but, he believed, that, during the heats
of summer, he commonly took his repose upon a bulk, or indulged
himself, in fresco, with one of the kennel-nymphs, under the
portico of St. Martin’s church. ‘Pox on him! (cried the bookseller)
he might as well have taken my whip and spurs—In that case, he
might have been tempted to steal another horse, and then he would
have rid to the devil of course.’
After coffee, I took my leave of Mr. S——, with proper acknow-
ledgments of his civility, and was extremely well pleased with the