An Old Acquaintance

Leaving the church, I strolled through the fair, looking at the horses, listening to the chaffering of the buyers and sellers, and occasionally putting in a word of my own, which was not always received with much deference; suddenly, however, on a whisper arising that I was the young cove who had brought the wonderful horse to the fair which Jack Dale had bought for the foreigneering man, I found myself an object of the greatest attention; those who had before replied with stuff! and nonsense! to what I said, now listened with the greatest eagerness to any nonsense which I chose to utter, and I did not fail to utter a great deal; presently, however, becoming disgusted with the beings about me, I forced my way, not very civilly, through my crowd of admirers; and passing through an alley and a back street, at last reached an outskirt of the fair where no person appeared to know me. Here I stood, looking vacantly on what was going on, musing on the strange infatuation of my species, who judge of a person’s words, not from their intrinsic merit, but from the opinion — generally an erroneous one — which they have formed of the person. From this reverie I was roused by certain words which sounded near me, uttered in a strange tone, and in a strange cadence — the words were, ‘them that finds, wins; and them that can’t finds, loses.’ Turning my eyes in the direction from which the words proceeded, I saw six or seven people, apparently all countrymen, gathered round a person standing behind a tall white table of very small compass. ‘What,’ said I, ‘the thimble-engro of —— Fair here at Horncastle.’ Advancing nearer, however, I perceived that though the present person was a thimble-engro, 173 he was a very different one from my old acquaintance of —— Fair. 174 The present one was a fellow about half-a-foot taller than the other. He had a long, haggard, wild face, and was dressed in a kind of jacket, something like that of a soldier, with dirty hempen trousers, and with a foreign-looking peaked hat on his head. He spoke with an accent evidently Irish, and occasionally changed the usual thimble formula into ‘them that finds wins, and them that can’t — och sure! — they loses;’ saying also frequently ‘your honour’ instead of ‘my lord.’ I observed, on drawing nearer, that he handled the pea and thimble with some awkwardness, like that which might be expected from a novice in the trade. He contrived, however, to win several shillings, for he did not seem to play for gold, from ‘their honours.’ Awkward as he was, he evidently did his best, and never flung a chance away by permitting anyone to win. He had just won three shillings from a farmer, who, incensed at his loss, was calling him a confounded cheat, and saying that he would play no more, when up came my friend of the preceding day, Jack the jockey. This worthy, after looking at the thimble man a moment or two, with a peculiarly crafty glance, cried out, as he clapped down a shilling on the table, ‘I will stand you, old fellow!’ ‘Them that finds wins; and them that can’t — och, sure! — they loses,’ said the thimble man. The game commenced, and Jack took up the thimble without finding the pea; another shilling was produced, and lost in the same manner. ‘This is slow work,’ said Jack, banging down a guinea on the table: ‘can you cover that, old fellow?’ The man of the thimble looked at the gold, and then at him who produced it, and scratched his head. ‘Come, cover that, or I shall be off,’ said the jockey. ‘Och, sure, my lord! — no, I mean your honour — no, shure, your lordship,’ said the other, ‘if I covers it at all, it must be with silver, for divil a bit of gold have I by me.’ ‘Well, then, produce the value in silver,’ said the jockey, ‘and do it quickly, for I can’t be staying here all day.’ The thimble man hesitated, looked at Jack with a dubious look, then at the gold, and then scratched his head. There was now a laugh amongst the surrounders, which evidently nettled the fellow, who forthwith thrust his hand into his pocket, and pulling out all his silver treasure, just contrived to place the value of the guinea on the table. ‘Them that finds wins, and them that can’t finds — loses,’ interrupted Jack, lifting up a thimble, out of which rolled a pea. ‘There, Paddy, what do you think of that?’ said he, seizing the heap of silver with one hand, whilst he pocketed the guinea with the other. The thimble-engro stood for some time like one transfixed, his eyes glaring wildly, now at the table, and now at his successful customer; at last he said, ‘Arrah, sure, master! — no, I manes my lord — you are not going to ruin a poor boy!’ ‘Ruin you!’ said the other, ‘what! by winning a guinea’s change! a pretty small dodger you — if you have not sufficient capital, why do you engage in so deep a trade as thimbling? come, will you stand another game?’ ‘Och, sure, master, no! the twenty shillings and one which you have cheated me of were all I had in the world.’ ‘Cheated you,’ said Jack, ‘say that again and I will knock you down.’ ‘Arrah! sure master, you knows that the pea under the thimble was not mine; here is mine, master; now give me back my money!’ ‘A likely thing, said Jack; ‘no, no, I know a trick worth two or three of that; whether the pea was yours or mine, you will never have your twenty shillings and one again; and if I have ruined you, all the better; I’d gladly ruin all such villains as you, who ruin poor men with your dirty tricks, whom you would knock down and rob on the road if you had but courage: not that I mean to keep your shillings, with the exception of the two you cheated from me, which I’ll keep. A scramble, boys! a scramble!’ said he, flinging up all the silver into the air, with the exception of the two shillings; and a scramble there instantly was, between the rustics who had lost their money and the urchins who came running up; the poor thimble-engro tried likewise to have his share; but though he flung himself down, in order to join more effectually in the scramble, he was unable to obtain a single sixpence; and having in his rage given some of his fellow scramblers a cuff or two, he was set upon by the boys and country fellows, and compelled to make an inglorious retreat with his table, which had been flung down in the scuffle, and had one of its legs broken. As he retired, the rabble hooted, and Jack, holding up in derision the pea with which he had out-manoeuvred him, exclaimed, ‘I always carry this in my pocket in order to be a match for vagabonds like you.’

The tumult over, Jack gone, and the rabble dispersed, I followed the discomfited adventurer at a distance, who, leaving the town, went slowly on, carrying his dilapidated piece of furniture, till coming to an old wall by the roadside, he placed it on the ground, and sat down, seemingly in deep despondency, holding his thumb to his mouth. Going nearly up to him, I stood still, whereupon he looked up, and perceiving I was looking steadfastly at him, he said, in an angry tone, ‘Arrah! what for are you staring at me so? By my shoul, I think you are one of the thaives who are after robbing me. I think I saw you among them, and if I were only sure of it, I would take the liberty of trying to give you a big bating.’ ‘You have had enough of trying to give people a beating,’ said I; ‘you had better be taking your table to some skilful carpenter to get it repaired. He will do it for sixpence.’ ‘Divil a sixpence did you and your thaives leave me,’ said he; ‘and if you do not take yourself off, joy, I will be breaking your ugly head with the foot of it.’ ‘Arrah, Murtagh!’ said I, ‘would ye be breaking the head of your old friend and scholar, to whom you taught the blessed tongue of Oilien nan Naomha, in exchange for a pack of cards?’ Murtagh, for he it was, gazed at me for a moment with a bewildered look; then, with a gleam of intelligence in his eye, he said, ‘Shorsha! no, it can’t be — yes, by my faith it is!’ Then, springing up, and seizing me by the hand, he said, ‘Yes, by the powers, sure enough it is Shorsha agra! Arrah, Shorsha! where have you been this many a day? Sure, you are not one of the spalpeens who are after robbing me?’ ‘Not I,’ I replied, ‘but I saw all that happened. Come, you must not take matters so to heart; cheer up; such things will happen in connection with the trade you have taken up.’ ‘Sorrow befall the trade, and the thief who taught it me,’ said Murtagh; ‘and yet the trade is not a bad one, if I only knew more of it, and had some one to help and ba............