Lavengro by George Borrow (read me a book txt) 📕

when you came, after which I must go into the fair to see how matters are going on. Thank ye, measter,” said he, as I put something into his hand; “thank ye kindly; ’tis not everyone who gives me a shilling nowadays who comes to see the church, but times are very different from what they were when I was young; I was not sexton then, but something better; helped Mr.⁠⸻ with his horses, and got many a broad crown. Those were the days, measter, both for men and horses; and I say, measter, if men and horses were so much better when I was young than they are now, what, I wonder, must they have been in the time of Oliver and his men?” XLIV

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 find, 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 ⸻ Fair331 here at Horncastle.” Advancing nearer, however, I perceived that though the present person was a thimble-engro, he was a very different one from my old acquaintance of ⸻ Fair. 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, sure, 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 find⁠—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