The ancient history of Whittington and his cat : containing an interesting account of his life and character

THE

HISTORY

WHITTINGTON

C rf T.

WITH COPPER- PLATE CUTS.

LONDON.

V1LUAM BARTON, 58, HOLBORN Hll.i

Price Sixpence.
1820.

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CHILDREN S BOOK
COLLECTION

LIBRARY OF THE

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA

LOS ANGELES

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HISTORY OP WHITTINGTON,
AND HIS CAT.

WHO has not heard of " Whittington and
his Cat?" Nay, the fact is, that the cat is
much more famous than this her master, in
the histories already brought forward in
Whittington's name ; for, whilst Madam
Puss has all her merits set out to the best
advantage, because she happened to be the
source of her master's great wealth, the
wonderful conduct of her wonderful master
in his high-raised condition is thrown into
shade: whereas, it is our resolution, by the
help of Stowe, the ancient chronologist, to
do perfect justice to both the one and the
other in due order ; and therefore, of course,
begin this our history with her master.

Little Whittington was a poor orphan ;
and this at so early an age, as not to have
any trace in his memory of what he was, or
what he might have been, from being to-
tally ignorant of what his parents were.

A worthy old woman in the village where
lie first became sensible of his forlorn con-
dition, who had nothing more in her power
than to give him an occasional bit of bread-
A

and an uncertain sheltering roof, could, it
is however supposed, have informed him
wherefore he became so destitute of bread
at so helpless a period; but that, havin •;
only such things to relate as she conceived
would distress his young mind, without
benefiting him in the smallest respect, slie
thought it best to seem as great a stranger
to eyery thing concerning him except his
distress, as others really were around him.
The poor lad, being born with that ardent
curiosity which Dr. Hobbes affirms is a
token of very uncommon understanding,
hearing London mentioned by some of the
children he mixed with, would often offer to
do them any act of kindness in his power, if
they would but talk to him a-little about that
city of cities; its wealth, thenumber of people
it contained, and how easy it of course must
be for industry to get money under the sha-
dow of its wing. The good old woman soon
perceived the poor child had got something
in his head that would harm him ; and
Whittington being unused to say the thing
that was not, in other words, to tell false-
hoods, she soon drew from him the secret
desire of his heart to go to London ; and,
trembling at the dangers that must beset so
innocent and so helpless a creature, she

resolved, in order to deter him from thinking
of such a step, to paint the happiness and
the safety of a country life, on the one hand,
and the noise and evils of great cities, on the
other hand, in such striking colours as to fix
his choice at once. Whittington listened to
what she said with surprise, next with anxi-
ety, and next wijjh doubtful apprehension ;
but at length remembering that his kind and
tender friend was too feeble to walk out,
even to ask her neighbours how they did,
processed it of little concern to her how the
world went, as she was unable to make it
better than she was told it was ; and, above
all the rest, she rejoiced that Providence had
placed her at a distance from the town, its
vices, and its distresses. Whittington, young
as he was, concluded that the difference in
opinion between him and her arose solely
from her being grown old, and therefore lov-
ing quietness better than anything else, and
that, from his being young, he liked to hear
and see all that was going forward : under
which idea he resolved to forbear mention-
Wig his desires in future ; for to art he was
an entire stranger; though he well under-
stood that, to make any one unhappy, was
cruel, was wicked : lessons the worthy old
woman had strongly impressed on his mind.
\ 2

And, surely, those we love and ought to ho-
nour for their kindness to us, were never to
be made unhappy by us, whoever they may
be. Accordingly, persuading herself she
had shut the door of his heart against every
future wish that would disturb his peace,
being far advanced in years, she was soon
taken from him, soothing herself with the
belief that he would remain where he was,
and there be secure from calamity.

Whittington felt her loss with the regret
of a child for a beloved parent ; and, ha\^ng
in vain looked around the spacious neigh-
bourhood for a friend to supply to him what
shefciad been : "What have I to do longer
here," cried he, " where my grief is unpi-
tied, and my wants unnoticed? where I may
die of famine or despair, and no one feel or
care what is become of me ?" He there-
fore spoke to a waggoner, to let him wralk
by the side of his waggon to London, as
the greatest of all favours ; and the wag-
goner, happening to be a good-natured,
thoughtless fellow, consented, without once
considering what was afterwards to become
of him: adding, he should sleep all night
in his waggon. And poor Whittington,
being transported with joy at his good for-
tune, packed up the little he could call his

own in a small bag, which he slung across
his shoulder, set ofl', and soon began to beat
time with his feet to his companion the
waggoner's whistle, without the least fear
or dread of what might be in store for him.
When left for the night in the waggon, as by
agreement, his littfe mind however began
to set itself to work. He was without one re-
lation in the world : whilst other little boys
had a father to protect them, and a mother
to serve them, he had no friends, no money.
What could he then have to hope! what had
he not to fear? But, recollecting the last
words of his dear mother, as he called her,
that there was a Father to the fatherless,
and that he would bless and preserve him if
he was only a good child, he implored his
pity to a poor helpless child, promising ever-
more, to the best of his power, to deserve
it; and then composed himself to sleep.

So profound was the sleep he fell into,
that the waggon was far on its way before
he awoke ; when, being relieved in mind
and body, he joined his whistle to that of his
fellow-traveller, until the happy moment ar-
rived that he was bid to look up, for there
was London before his eyes ! The wag-
goner, having made him partake of his sup-
per, and given him a tew pence for the

A3

morning, out of pure good-nature, left him
asleep in a hay-loft, into which he had lifted
him ; bidding good-bye being somewhat
touching, he believed, to every one's feelings
as well as his own. But, as the people of
the inn had no motives, in their opinion, for
treating any body kindly, he was soon
roused by the ostler, and bade to go about
his business.

Poor Whittington instantly obeyed this
word of command ; but knew not where to
go. All, however, around him was astonish-
ing, was delightful! Every body seemed
happy ; — every body seemed employed ;
whence, according to his arithmetic, every
body must be getting money: he could,
therefore, have nothing more to do than to
seek to gain a master. It was true, indeed,
(and he could not help sighing deeply whilst
he acknowledged that truth,) he had been
bred to no trade whatever; could neither
read nor write: " but then," whispered
Hope, " you have feet to walk upon far and
wide ; hands to work where no particular
skill is required; and a tongue to speak your
own wants, or deliver any message you may
be entrusted with." The poor hoy was M>
enlivened by this hint, that he cried out
aloud, u Who is afraid ? I have, moreover,

7

in my pocket sufficient to buy me this day's
support! I will therefore spend this whole
day in seeing London."

Whittington, however, soon discovered
that seeing London was not so pleasurable
a task as he had ilattered himself he should
find it ; for, whenever he stopped to gaze on
any object that took his fancy, he was driven
on this side, and pushed on that ; and, in a
word, to his unutterable surprise, when he
little thought he was in any body's way, he
found himself in every body's way, wherever
he came. As the evening drew on, he began
to feel an anxiety he had not taken into his
account, namely, where he could pass the
night. He had been cast out, to all intents
and purposes, at the inn ; and had but one
penny remaining of the waggoner's bounty.
As the only choice he had, however, was
either to walk the streets all night, or creep
under some bulk to hide himself and try to
sleep, he at length fixed on a hard pillow ;
on which, nevertheless, he could have slept,
if undisturbed by the guard of the night: for
crying the hour was the source of terror to
him, though to all those who felt their safety
insured thereby, it was the voice of glad
tidings.

He passed the next day with scarcely any
A 4

food, for his last and only penny had fallen
out of his pocket. Hungry, weary, faint,
and deeply dejected, he was ashamed to beg,
and knew not who to ask for work; when,
on passing a gentleman's door in the Mino-
ries, in this deplorable state, lie resolved to
knock at it: his mind telling him (he knew
not why nor wherefore), he should be be-
nefited thereby. He with much difficulty
reached the knocker ; but, unable to prevent
his sinking down on the steps, it slipped so
suddenly out of his hand as to cause a loud
rap ; and the door was opened in a moment
by the gentleman's cook-maid, a woman of
a most ungentle and unfeeling temper.
Offended therefore, highly offended, on be-
holding the low creature she had hurried
herself to wait upon, she threatened to spurn
him away, if he did not immediately remove
himself. At this menaced harsh treatment
he endeavoured to get out of her way, but
was unable to do so; when his kind star
sent home the master of the house, one Mr.
Fitzwarren,a mercer and a great merchant,
with his daughter in his hand, to save him.
Mr. Fitzwarren was all benevolence; his
young daughter all compassion towards the
distressed: and poor Whittington's heart
v» us so relieved by their looks; that he told

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his tale of woe with a degree of courage,
and a degree of pathos, or touching lan-
guage, that astonished even himself, and
had so happy an effect on the feelings of his
humane hearers, that the young lady en-
treated, and her father*commanded the
wretched boy to be taken into the house, fed,
and put to bed, until he had recovered his
strength, and could walk from thence, and
get his livelihood. Miss in a short time
slipped into the kitchen, having formed a
most unfavourable opinion of Mrs. Cook's
humanity from what she had seen of her be-
haviour to the poor boy, to know how they
went on; and, having learned from himself
how long he had been an orphan, and how
he was allured by false tales to come to Lon-
don, as also the grievous distress that jour- .
ney had plunged him into, returned to her
father and mother, with tears in her eyes,
and pleaded for him with such success, that
it was settled, if he proved a good boy, he
should remain in the family till he could be
better provided for ; as the only work that
family could give him, was assisting the cook
on all occasions, cleaning shoes, &c. &c.

But, most unfortunately, as it then ap-
peared, the choice of where he should sleep
being left to this cook, she had tho cruelty

A O

10

to hoist him up into a left, common in old-
built houses, which, superadclecl to the
comfortless distance from everyone, and the
hard bed she destined him to lie on, was, to
her certain knowledge, infested with rats
and mice withouLn umber.

Whittington nevertheless resolved not to
complain; for, under the roof with such
worthy people as Mr. Fitzwarren and his
wife, not forgetting their little daughter, he
thought his lot had fallen in good ground:
but, as delivering himself from such great
annoyances was an object not to be disre-
garded, (for the disagreeable creatures ran
over his face when asleep and waked him
continually,) he set it down in his memory
to buy a cat with the very first money he
got. Nor wras it long before he had both the
means and the opportunity of so doing; for,
very early in the morning:, within the same
week, an old woman passed the door, as he
was cleaning it, with a cat in her arms,
wh.ch, on his noticing, she offered to sell
him, but required more money than the poor
boy could raise; wrhen, perceiving he had
tears in his eyes, and a tempting penny in
his hand, she came down to his price, out
of compassion, as she pretended ; though
the truth was, she was as glad to receive

11

the penny as he was to receive the cat.
The delighted boy called this a most lucky
day ; for he not only got up safe to his loft
with his purchase before Mrs. Cook's bright
eyes were open, but, passing through a
lumber-room, saw a wicker -basket with a
cover to it, which, by being in a dusty con-
dition, he believed he might venture to help
himself to as a cast-off, for his cat to live in
during his absence in the day, to prevent her
running out of the loft, and Mrs. Cook from
getting a sight: for he knew her ill-temper
to be such, tbat, if she ever beheld her, she
would turn her out. into the street.

Having surmounted these prodigious dif-
ficulties, he began to amuse himself at stolen
moments, when he ran up stairs to ask Puss
how she did, with thinking what name he
should like 'to give her; when, hoping (he
could not tell wherefore) that one day or
other she would become a favourite with his
young mistress, he called her Felice; having
heard some one in the parlour, when he
brought in coals, say that Felix was the
Latin word for happy.

But it may, perhaps, be agreeable to our
little readers, from good-will to Puss, to
hear something about cats in general. Cats,
it is well known, are so much like tigers in

12

form, that they tell part for part with each
other, when dissected; and, in their wild
state, their nature is nearly the same : they
dart on their prey, and worry the creature
before they give it the death-wround. But,
when tame, and living in families, cats are
as well tempered and as tractable as dogs,
sportive as monkeys, and evermore sing
their little song of gratitude to their kind
friends for favours received: although, on
having food given them, they betray their
savage origin, by grumbling over it whilst
they are devouring it.

Accordingly, Whittington's cat, besides
being what history bespeaks her, a grave
well-practised mouser, had all the sportive
talents of her tribe ; whence, so soon as her
master found himself perfectly freed from
his .late tormentors, he began to call them
forth into exercise; and accordingly, having
received a few lessons only, Mrs. Puss would
creep into his pocket like a squirrel, follow
him as far as he would permit it, and, like
a little puppy dog, jump over his hands at a
nod of command. In a word, she became
as lively and entertaining a companion as
she had proved herself to be a useful one, and
was the whole solace of his life. In one of
these happy moments, for they were the only

13 ,

happy moments he ever enjoyed out of his
kind master and mistress's presence, he was
ut length surprised by his young mistress ;
lor, the cook being gone out, he forgot to
guard against other visitors ; and, at his
young mistress's request, Puss went through
all her pleasant inanoauvrings with equal
honour to herself and her master. Whitting-
ton besought the young lady not to mention
a word of her discovery to any person on
earth; and, as she was so good as to promise
bhe would comply with his request, and be-
ing moreover greatly pleased with Puss,
,she contrived to have a quarter of an hour's
play with her every day, when the family
dined at home. Puss, as well as her mas-
ter, improving much on acquaintance, Miss
Fitzwarren (though drawing was taught
but to few in those days, genius being not
confined to either sex or country), drew
Whittington and his Cat to perfection ; and,
above the rest, was so kind as to let the
picture become an ornament of his loft: and
proud enough he was of possessing such a
gift. These halcyon periods were however
fehort-lived ; for the poor boy was the slave
of an arrogant and barbarous woman's tem-
per, who not only made him her turnspit,
but spurned him and beat him at will.
A?

14

Miss Fitzwarren and Whittington were
nearly of the same age. Her person was
not indeed beautiful, but the very first-rate
of agreeable, and her disposition sweec'.y
amiable: no wonder therefore that, to a
poor lad, smarting under all the evils of a
contrary disposition, she should appear no-
thing less than an angel. Whilst the mo-
desty of Whittington's demeanour ; his
uncommonly good language for his condT-'
tion ; his grateful, his respectful conduct,
made her his friend: insomuch, that she
begged her father would let one of the clerks
teach the poor fellow to read and write ; as
he was an orphan, she said, and had no
other chance of learning what might be so
useful to him in future. One of the clerks
was therefore ordered to set him copies and
hear him read ; and the boy's application
and improvement were astonishing.

Mr. Fitzwarren, being a silk-mercer and
a great merchant, imported large quantities
of silk from India, just in the state it was
spun by the little worms which are thence
called silk-worms, and are so numerous in
the Eastern world, that mulberry-trees are
planted and cultivated in order to furnish
leaves for their food. Of course, this gen-
tleman sent out such articles as were best

15

received abroad in exchange ; and it being
his benevolent custom, when a ship freight-
ed at his own expense was ready to sail, to
call all his family around him, that every
one might provide a little venture, accord-
ing to their washes or abilities, to be im-
proved to the best advantage by the captain,
vvlio was a^ man after his own heart, with-
out guile : on looking about him, on such
an occasion, he found Whittington was ab-
sent, and had him sought for. But the poor
lad had hid himself, from the shame of be-
ing the only one incapable of benefiting by
his master's liberal-mindeduess. Miss how-
ever begged she might call hijn ; when her
voice instantly drew him forth, and she
would not return to the parlour without
him. " You have been weeping," said she,
" with Puss, I suppose: but wherefore do
you shed tears thus over a creature that
neither can understand your gfef, nor in
any degree sooth it?"—" She does both,"
replied Whittington : " is lively when J am
lively.; sorrowful when I am sorrowful : for,
pardon my freedom, Miss, she reads my
feelings, as you have the goodness to do, in
rny face."

Whittington assured his master he had
every due sense of his kindness, but had not

A cS

Iti

an article he could call his own. His young
lady entreated she might buy something for
him ; but her father told her that would not
do, for it must be his own to be a fortunate
venture. " You have, Dic!^ a cat,"' said
Miss. The poor lad burst into tears. But
his master's ear having caught the word, he
ordered Puss to be brought, and made
Whittington deliver her up, with his own
hands, to the captain ; but not until Miss, in
order to shew the value of Dick's venture to
all present, had made her perform all her
sportive tricks, to the equal surprise and
pleasure of the whole company, except the
surly cook, who beheld the boy part from
her with a heart-breaking look and sigh,
wholly unmoved.

Whittington a second time hid himself, to
conceal his grief from all eyes. But, strange
to tell, the whole scene operated so malici-
ously on the cook's mind, from thinking the
boy was too kindly treated, and such-like
ideas, that she made it her daily practice to
teaze and torment him, either about having
parted with his poor cat, that he pretended
to have so much love for, she would say, or
his vanity and folly in setting so high a value
on her. " A fine cargo, no doubt/' cried she,
" she will bring you in return. Perhaps

17

herself: that is," she would add, " her skin
stuffed, to supply the place of her lifeless
body, and to make her look for all the world
as if she were alive !"

Whittington was so distressed by these
taunts and jeers, that he was obliged to call
all his reason, and all the good lessons his
old deceased friend had taught him, in aid,
to enable him to support them : for her un-
provoked malice embittered his life; and
the more especially as, by losing his cat, he
was cut off from the consoling looks and
words of his dear young mistress.

At length, however, quite terrified at his
own feelings, without having the relief of
breathing them to any one, he resolved to
run away ; for, in his poor opinion, to die
of grief that ought to be conquered, or by
human means, was alike offensive to his
Maker. Having tied up a trifle or two, he
contrived to slip them out of doors, and soon
followed them. He stopped, and looked
back on the paradise he had quitted with
heartfelt anguish. Never should he hear his
master's kind voice more ; — never more re-
ceive his mistress's gentle commands, nor
behold his dear young lady again ! TUit
linding, the more he lingered, the more
languid his resolution became, in compli-

A9

18

ance with stern necessity he set off, and
never once stopped until he reached the stone
near Hollo way, which, from his having been
known to sit and to rest himself on it, is
called W/tilt ing ton's Stone to this day.

The poor fellow's mind was so agitated,
he knew not what he saw or heard ; until
roused into attention by Bow-bells, which,
as it was their custom on All-hallow's day.
began to ring a peal, that, by the force of
fancy, sounded to his ear,

Turn a<rain, Whittington,
Lord-mayor of Londou!

He suddenly jumped up, and rubbed his
eves, that he might be certain he was awake.
""O!" crierl he, " is it I?— I, the forlorn,
the outcast Whittington, that shall be Lord-
mayor? Then shall I see those I love best
once again !" Still, still the bells continued
their song. " Jt is enough," said Whit-
tington : " what would not any one endure
to arrive at such greatness and honour ! I
will therefore go back, and patiently sus-
tain all I must suffer, only to gain myself a
chance for such glory and such happiness."
And thus making hope his walking -stick, as
Siiakspeare expresses it, he returned back,
exercising it against despairing thoughts:
and all this was unobserved by any one.

19

Whilst Whittington was bowing his neck
to the yoke of an usurped tyranny, Puss and
her fellow -voyagers made way, with all their
sails, for the East. But sailing was then a
nice and difficult art ; for the compass, that
now tells us how to steer, was then wholly
unknown: whence the winds an 1 the waves
sported with ships, and often tossed them
out of their latitude ; as was the case with
the Unicorn, to the delay and alarm of all
on-board.

Puss, during her passage, however, pre-
sented the captain with a you'ng family of
kittens, who soon grew up as sportive as
their mother, and thereby beguiled to the
sailors many a tedious hour. .Hopeless, how-
ever, at length, of regaining their lost track,
and terrified by the view of their reduced
provisions, (for at sea the remedy for such
an evil is dreadful but to think of,) they
were reduced to the horrible extremity of
casting lots who should die, when they were
relieved in the moment of their deepest de-
spair by seeing land : and this land, when they
reached it. proved to be a kingdom on the
African coast, abounding with mines of
wealth, but altogether unknown to England.

The arrival of a ship on this coast was so
pleasurable, because so unusual, a thing,

20

that the king sent some of his high courtiers
to congratulate them on their safety, if com-
pelled by a tempest to visitthem. The captain
made suitable returns to their compliments,
and accepted the invitation sent him by the
king and queen, together with such persons
as he chose should share the honour to dine
Avith them. But what must be his surprise,
when, on an elegant dinner being served
up, an incredible number of rats and mice
rushed forth and devoured it ; or, at least,
rendered what they left behind them unfit to
be eaten. On Whittington's venture occur-
ring to his remembrance, he told the king
and queen he had an animal that would soon
destroy all these troublesome visitors.

The king, queen, and the whole court,
heard of this astonishing animal with wonder
and delight, and were impatient to bring her
talents to proof. Puss was therefore soon
brought into the royal presence ; and a new
repast being provided, the instant the rats
and mice began to show their heads, jumping
out of her wicker-basket, she put the whole
host of her enemies to flight without beat
of drum. The king, the queen, and all
present, were desirous of caressing her, but
could not persuade themselves it was safe
for strangers so to do, until repeatedly and

21

repeatedly assured by the captain of her kirnl
disposition towards all but the creatures she
was formed to be at eternal enmity with. She
was then stroked and patted by every one ;
and the sum given for her is well known to
have been immense, if even exaggerated by
fame in some small degree.

Her majesty, however, wilh Puss in her
lap, where she had very speedily sung her-
self fast asleep, appeared lost in thought :
the cause of which being inquired into, she
said, that, from feeling the past, she could
not forbear being alarmed for the future ;
as there could be little doubt, if the cat
died, the offensive animals would renew
their old practices; which could not fail of
exciting tenfold distress and disgust, by
their having been for some time free from
their violence. How agreeable therefore
must the news be, that the captain could
furnish them with a whole family, sufficient,
in process of time, to stock the kingdom :
which family was likewise presented to
their majesties, who were enraptured at tho
sight of them, and admired their playfulness
beyond measure.

The queen had a tender mind, and, hav-
ing heard the captain, at her own request,
many times repeat poor Whittington's his-

22

lory; his orphan infancy, his friendless
state; and his distress at parting from his
cat, though for the greatest hoped-for ad-
vantage ; she told the king, and his majesty
was perfectly of the same opinion, tliat,
having made them so happy, it was their duty
to render him happy also. "Therefore,"
cried she, " tell him to receive back his be-
loved cat; lest, without that addition to his
•wealth, he may be unable to enjoy ali we
bestow upon him." Puss was accordingly-
recommitted to her wicker basket by the
queen's own hands, having. first tried and
proved that the progeny she left behind were
as capable as herself of protecting the palace
from the late invaders. And there is every
reason to be certain her progeny were. -es-
teemed so long as their then majesties
lived : and from far better motives than the
otherwise-enlightened Egyptians could as-
sign for paying cats, as was their custom,
divine honours.

The captain now a second time hoisted
his flag, unfurled his sails, and, with a fair
wind" and most encouraging gale, set sail
for England. But the ship Unicorn had
been for so many months unheard-of, that
Mr. Fitz warren concluded it was buried,
and all it contained, in the deep ; and

23

whilst poor Whittington was shocked at
remembering his loss, when so many of his
fellow-beings were gone to the bottom, yet
was he unable to forget the love he bore his
cat, or forbear to lament he had exposed her
to the perils of the sea.

Mr. Fitz warren., to whom the captain was
endeared from his manifold virtues, he set-
ting him down for a human gem above all
price, was greatly concerned to think he was
no more. One morning however, when
these friendly regrets were nearly overpow-
ering his mind, who should he behold at his
door but the very man he utterly despaired
of ever seeing again! The meeting was
touching on both sides; and the ladies, be-
ing present, were much affected by the view
thereof. When no longer able to suppress
her desire tb know how Puss had borne her
voyage, Miss Fitzwarren telling the captain
as much, he immediately opened on their
knowledge the wonderful'events that animal
had produced : adding, that he much feared
it would be dangerous to let the poor lad
know ail his good fortune at once, or perhaps
even to be made master- of the wealth he had
brought him. " Let him be called," cried
Mr. Fitzwarren ; " instantly called," said the
worthy man, with heartfelt joy at the news.

" The gifts of Providence must be held sa~
cred ; and the whole gift of Providence, on
this occasion, is the orphan's due."

Whittington slowly appeared : but his
appearance was most dismaying, for the
cook had just complimented him with a
ladle of dripping over his clothes ; which,
though by no means the best he was master
of, were decent, and more than suited to
the business he was engaged in, namely,
turning the spit and cleaning his master s
shoes.

" My worthy fellow/' said Mr. Fitzwar-
ren, seizing his dirty hand, u be of good
cheer. Patient sufferers seldom pass unre-
warded. Instead, therefore, of the scullery
and the kitchen, to which you never more
return, you are — yes, my late forlorn child,
\ou are now become my equal: and as
with me virtue, much rather than money,
makes the man, you shall henceforth, in ho-
nour of your virtues, be my beloved friend,
my favourite companion/' Whittington's
astonishment rendered him for some time
speechless ; the ladies wept without reserve ;
and Mr. Fitzwarren and the captain turned
aside their heads, to hide a humane and
manly tear that would not be suppressed.

" \7ou, sir," at length cried Whittington.

a

25

'* are much too good to sport with the un-
happy, or to wound the defenceless. I
therefore believe what you tell me to be true,
because you tell it me, as unable as I am to
comprehend wherefore such blessings are
poured down on my head. Those trunks,"
continued he, pointing to them, " are marked,
I see, as mine: but, O sir, that mark is a
false one! They are yours ; and you must
either deign to consider them as such, or
their contents can never be enjoyed in any
manner by me."

" Idle, idle !" said Mr. Fitzwarren. " Do
not, dearest sir," resumed Whittington,
"do not plunge me into despair: do not
drive me from your beloved presence in the
very moment you wish to see me happy.
Give me to be your humble, your grateful
friend, if such is your generous desire ; but
take the wealth : for your friendship is all
the riches, all the honour, and all the hap-
piness, I would obtain." " Bravo! my dear
Whittington," cried Mr. Fitzwarren; "and
be your happiness whatever you choose to
make it."

Whittington rose, and was preparing to
retire to improve his dress. " Hold ! hold !"
said the captain ; " these trunks are not all
the king and queen have sent you. — Hollo,

26

there!" cried he to a sailor in the hall,
"bring in that article/' When, lo! what
should present itselt to the delighted eyes
of Whittiugton, but the well-known wicker-
basket, out of which leaped Mrs. Puss, and
paid her due compliments to the company,
(for the creature knew them all;) rubbed
her head against her master's face ; twirled
herself round Mr. Fitzwarren's legs ; looked
up at Mrs. Fitzwarren, and purred; and,
jumping up into Miss Fitzwarren's lap,
composed herself, and seemed to feel herself
perfectly at home. But, on her master's re-
tiring to dress, she eagerly followed him;
and such was the pleasure her return gave
him, that he forgot his wealth whilst he ca-
ressed her, and promised her he would never
part with her more to the end of her or his
life.

Mr. Fitzwarren told his wife and the cap-
tain, that, in the first knowledge of Whit-
tington's amazing good fortune, he did not
dare to oppose either his humour or his
wishes, lest all the circumstances of his nevy
condition should be too much for him to
bear ; but, so soon as his mind recovered its
firmness, he would duly regulate matters
between them. He spoke-highly of the merits
of both his head and his heart ; and said he

27

would pledge himself for his doing honour
to himself, his country, and mankind, by
rendering his wealth a blessing to multi-
tudes. " For," continued this gentleman,
" it is evident to me the poor worthy fellow
will perform all the different parts assigned
him by Providence on the great stage of
human life with first-rate claims to applause;
and that, however humble his entrance, his
exit will be gloriotis. • The elements,' as
our famous English bard, Shakspeare, has it,
* are so mixed up in him, that Nature might
come forth, and say, This is a man !' "

Whittington soon rejoined them, dressed
in his Sunday clothes ; and a very smart,
well-looking youth he became, with little
advantage from his wardrobe; made his
best bow with a very good grace ; took his
seat (happy, happy creature! as his counte-
nance bespoke him), between iiis master and
mistress, being not only invited, but kindly
commanded so to do, with his old friend,
Mrs. Puss, purring at his feet; and, dinner
being served up, except a blush or two of
grateful diffidence and modest sensibility,
proved, by his whole behaviour, he was at
length got into his real, right place.

The next thing to this "establishment of
his happiness, his great concern was to

reward every person that had been indulgent
or serviceable to him ; not forgetting the
waggoner who brought him to London, or
even Mrs. Cook herself, whose very unkind-
ness to him, he said, had wrought out his
good fortune ; for, had she not lodged him in
the loft, he had never bought his cat. And
what obligations must he then be under to
his young lady, who was particularly and im-
mediately the cause of his sending her
abroad ! The cook, however, was never
able to behold him, -from the ill-treatment
she had given him, without confusion of both
heart and face; though he cheerfully and
repeatedly desired her to cease to remember
what he had forgot, and to look upon him
henceforward only as a friend

To the captain, under Mr. Fitz warren's
instruction, or rather restraining voice, (for
"Whittington's" gratitude knew no bounds,)
he made a noble present. He rejoiced the
hearts of the whole ship's crew by his
bounty; and, in closing the lid of the jewel-
box, sent as part of the purchase of his cat,
which was of great value, he wrote thereon
16 Miss FITZWARREN," who received a nod
from her father not to contradict him at that
time. " And, my honoured madam," said
he to his mistress, a what token of my re-

*

29

speet, my — my — feelings, (for his heart had
not aa expression equal to his wish,) can I
offer you?" "Give me your hand," re-
plied that worthy woman : u let me have
the pleasure of seeing you composed ; for
your present happiness is too agitating for
your spirits, and YOU will greatly oblige
me."

When sufficient time, in Mr. Fitz warren's
opinion, had elapsed to render them all
tranquil, and, as he called it, rational crea-
tures, he was first surprised, and next quite
angry, at Whittington's persisting to refuse
the possession of his fortune, even at length
to the degree of telling him he did not de-
serve it. Whittington defended his conduct
with much address : " For, sir," said he,
" I wish to be independent ; that is, to make
myself happy in my own way. What wealth
Providence has so miraculously given me,
I know not how to dispose of, or to enjoy.
I must be broke in, sir, to my good fortune
by degrees. What money is of my own
getting, I shall know the value of, — shall feel
my own ; and, by habit, all the flutter of as-
tonishment, which my heart is now unable
to throw off, will gradually subside. But,
to rush from the extremity of poverty into
unbounded prosperity, — believe me, sir, I

30

have no powers equal to sustaining the
shock ; and you must, therefore, either have
the goodness to save me from myself, or
leave me to be undone."

There was so much good sense and wor-
thy-mindedness in his argument, that Mr.
Fitzwarren was overcome. " I consent to be
your banker," said he, " your guardian, so
long as you choose to call yourself a minor;
but shall rejoice to be informed that my
much-valued Whittington is no longer a boy,
and, of course, capable of acting for himself.

Whittington, being now, as he called it,
master of himself, withdrew from his friends,
to collect his thoughts and begin to be calmly
happy. He recalled to his memory every
moral and excellent "lesson his worthy de-
ceased friend had given him. *' Blessed
spirit!" cried he, " the persons to whom i
owe my birth are wholly unknown to me:
but your tender compassion for my orphan
state, which flowed solely from the bene-
volence of your heart ; that guarded me in
my helpless infancy ; watched over my
growth ; and, above all, the manifold acts of
kindness bestowed upon me, your anxiety,
and daily prayers that my soul should prove
upright, my life useful to myself and others,
and my death happy: I feel myself unut-

.

terably indebted to you ; nor shall they> to
the best of my ability, be unfulfilled. .Your
goodwill for me therefore shall teach me
universal goodwill for rny fellow-beings ;
your kind relief of my infant necessities,
make me acquire wealth, as a steward, for
those who want the means of subsistence ;
and your virtues, by my practising them,
give more glory to my name than all that
honours or riches can bestow !"

Accordingly, Whittington soon started
forth the man of business ; and, amongst the
other money-getting methods he pursued,
bought up, in Leadenhall -market, all what
was then, and is at this time in Ireland,
called the offal, that is, the intestines of
.cattle, superintended their cleaning, until in
a fit condition to be exposed to sale for those
ranks that were glad to make a cheap pur-
chase of however coarse food ; and the re-
fuse was sold for dogs' and cats' meat, with
very considerable profit. He, moreover,
according to Stowe, dealt largely in wool,
leather, cloth, and pearls, much 'worn by
the British ladies at that time. Out of the
returns of which, he went about feeding
the hungry, clothing the naked, releasing
the prisoner, and wiping' the tears from the
cheeks of the worthy distressed, uheiever

82

he found them* All his undertakings flou-
rished in his hands ; and, in this fulness of
self-obtained prosperity, Mr. Fitzwarren
resolved to question him as to his true mo-
tive of conduct respecting the purchase-
money for his cat ; for Mr. Fitzwarren, as a
kind father, became anxious to see his be-
loved and only child the wife of an honest
and valuable man, when such a one as
Whiitiogton would evermore conclude his
wishes upon that subject.

But poor Whittington was so careful to
conceal his regard for Miss Fitzwarren, lest
it should be thought presumptuous, and
thereby deprive him of the friendship of a
family he so highly prized, that no one sus-
pected such a thing; and his master, from
delicacy, and a fear of laying a constraint
on his grateful feelings, had never so much
as hinted at the subject. " My beloved fel-
low," said he, however, to him, one morning,
when they were quite by themselves,
(t wherefore do you exclude me from a
knowledge of what passes in your heart? —
what its views, what its desires are? as also
why you, who are so active in making others
happy, are so backward in promoting your
own happiness?" Whittington sighed, cast
his eyes on the ground, and, from the high

33

respect he bore his master, (as he would still
often call him,) could only say, " You, sir,
have a daughter." Mr. Fitzwarren, on the
instant, recollected many, very many, in-
stances of tender attachment that, with all
his caution, had escaped him ; and, being
convinced that no young woman, whose
affections were not engaged, could dislike
either his person or his behaviour, whilst
every worthy woman must be charmed with
his goodness of heart, he caught him by the
hand, and cried, " Be it so : let the name of
father be added to the name of friend, and
thereby make me completely happy. She is
yours, my Whittington, if with her owrn
consent." " And, without her own consent,
I would die," replied Whittington, " before
I would receive her hand." Miss and her
mother were sent for; and never was there
a party more endeared to each other. Mr.
Fitzwarren called Whittington his son
elect; Mrs. Fitzwarren, her dearest boy;
and Miss Fitzwarren confessed she prefer-
red him to his whole sex.

And yet, strange to tell ! the wonderful
history of this wonderful man is written
only for young readers ; a circumstance that
can be no otherwise accounted for, than
that the fashions of the times are so changed

that either Whittington's virtues would
make some of our modern great folks blush,
or the history of our present men of fashion
would put Whittington's virtues out of
countenance. And, having thus brought
him to the eve of marriage with his masters
daughter, we must conclude our work,
from the records of Stowe, Cotton, and
other ancient writers.

According to all ancient testimony, Mr.
Whittington was three times Lord-mayor of
London ; and was pronounced, by all who
knew him, one of the most upright and vi-
gilant magistrates the city of London could
ever boast ; and, from the immense sums
of money he lent Richard the Second and
Henry the Fifth, besides various other modes
of circulating cash, had the name given
him of " the Golden Merchant."

Thus, abounding in wealth and reputa-
tion, he became the husband of his master's
daughter ; and there were present at the
wedding the Lord -mayor and Aldermen,
the great John of Gaunt, Chaucer the poet,
and numbers of other celebrated persons.
The wedding-feast lasted a whole week ;
and the roast-beef of Old England was the
sheet-anchor at every table, whilst the
quantity of sack and Barbary wine that was

ft

55

drank surpassed almost all belief: and
never, it is recorded, was there a more
happy couple.

He entertained Henry the Fifth and his
queen, after that sovereign's return from the
battle of Agincourt; who, in reward of his
superb and magnificent feast, bade Mr.
Whittington kneel down ; when, the king
having flourished his sword, as is the cus-
tom iii creating a knight, over his head, he
bade him " Rise, Sir Richard Whittington :"
honours the worthy merchant would much
rather have declined than accepted, only
that he felt them so many testimonies that
Mr. .Fitzwarren had not disgraced either
himself or his daughter by bestowing her
upon him. We can however only add,
from the smallness of our work, that, to the
best of husbands, were superadded to his
name the best of fathers and the best of
sons-in-law; and that, having built aim? -
houses for widows, hospitals for the sick
and wounded, schools for the maintenance
and education of poor children, besides
giving a large sum towards endowing St.
Bartholomew's Hospital, he built himself a
house in Grub-street, which is now sur-
rounded by other buildings, and little re-
marked by the public ; to which house he
2

36

at length retired with his family, all of them
greatly preferring tranquillity to the bustle
of life ; where he resided till a good old
age, and where he died, as beloved as la-
mented by all around him. Nor must we
omit the mention of poor Puss, who, having
ended a remarkable long life for one of her
species, died in the arms of Mrs. Whitting-
ton, (for she was not then her ladyship,)
and was buried, with much decent atten-
tion, at the bottom of her master's garden.

Let not our young readers, then, we con-
jure them, — let them not suffer so truly
worthy a man to have lived, much less to
have died, in vain ; but, by imitating his
virtues, emulating his renown, and remem-
bering that the precepts of his humble
friend the old woman, by being so deeply
engraven on his heart, though by so feeble
a hand, were blessed with such abundant
increase, as to be an additional confirmation
of what we read in Holy Writ, namely,
" Train up a child in the way he should
go, and when he is old he will not depart
from it."

FINIS.

William Darton, Holborn Hill.

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