The Expedition of Humphry Clinker

332 TOBIAS SMOLLETT
but he little dreamed that we were in the house—As for the real
Mr. Wilson, whom I called forth to combat, by mistake, he is the
neighbour and intimate friend of old Mr. Dennison, and this con-
nexion had suggested to the son the idea of taking that name while
he remained in obscurity.
You may easily conceive what pleasure I must have felt on dis-
covering that the honour of our family was in no danger from the
conduct of a sister, whom I love with uncommon affection; that,
instead of debasing her sentiments and views to a wretched stroller,
she had really captivated the heart of a gentleman, her equal in rank
and superior in fortune; and that, as his parents approved of his
attachment, I was on the eve of acquiring a brother-in-law so
worthy of my friendship and esteem. George Dennison is, with-
out all question, one of the most accomplished young fellows in
England. His person is at once elegant and manly, and his under-
standing highly cultivated. Tho’ his spirit is lofty, his heart is
kind; and his manner so engaging, as to command veneration and
love, even from malice and indifference. When I weigh my own
character with his, I am ashamed to find myself so light in the
balance; but the comparison excites no envy—I propose him as a
model for imitation—I have endeavoured to recommend myself to
his friendship, and hope I have already found a place in his affec-
tion. I am, however, mortified to reflect what flagrant injustice we
every day commit, and what absurd judgment we form, in viewing
objects through the falsifying medium of prejudice and passion.
Had you asked me a few days ago, the picture of Wilson the player,
I should have drawn a portrait very unlike the real person and
character of George Dennison—Without all doubt, the greatest
advantage acquired in travelling and perusing mankind in the
original, is that of dispelling those shameful clouds that darken
the faculties of the mind, preventing it from judging with candour
and precision.
The real Wilson is a great original, and the best tempered, com-
panionable man I ever knew—I question if ever he was angry or
low-spirited in his life. He makes no pretensions to letters; but he
is an adept in every thing else that can be either useful or entertain-
ing. Among other qualifications, he is a complete sportsman, and
counted the best shot in the county. He and Dennison, and Lisma-
hago and I, attended by Clinker, went a-shooting yesterday, and
made great havock among the partridges—To-morrow we shall