A Village Politician

I am a rogue if I do not think I was designed for the helm of
state; I am so full of nimble stratagems, that I should have
ordered affairs, and carried it against the stream of a
faction, with as much ease as a skipper would laver against
the wind.--THE GOBLINS.

In one of my visits to the village with Master Simon, he proposed that
we should stop at the inn, which he wished to show me, as a specimen of
a real country inn, the head-quarters of village gossip. I had remarked
it before, in my perambulations about the place. It has a deep,
old-fashioned porch, leading into a large hall, which serves for
tap-room and travellers' room; having a wide fireplace, with high-backed
settles on each side, where the wise men of the village gossip over
their ale, and hold their sessions during the long winter evenings. The
landlord is an easy, indolent fellow, shaped a little like one of his
own beer barrels, and is apt to stand gossiping at his door, with his
wig on one side, and his hands in his pockets, whilst his wife and
daughter attend to customers. His wife, however, is fully competent to
manage the establishment; and, indeed, from long habitude, rules over
all the frequenters of the tap-room as completely as if they were her
dependants instead of her patrons. Not a veteran ale-bibber but pays
homage to her, having, no doubt, been often in her arrears. I have
already hinted that she is on very good terms with Ready-Money Jack. He
was a sweetheart of hers in early life, and has always countenanced the
tavern on her account. Indeed, he is quite "the cock of the walk" at the
tap-room.

As we approached the inn, we heard some one talking with great
volubility, and distinguished the ominous words "taxes," "poor's rates,"
and "agricultural distress." It proved to be a thin, loquacious fellow,
who had penned the landlord up in one corner of the porch, with his
hands in his pockets as usual, listening with an air of the most vacant
acquiescence.

The sight seemed to have a curious effect on Master Simon, as he
squeezed my arm, and, altering his course, sheered wide of the porch as
though he had not had any idea of entering. This evident evasion induced
me to notice the orator more particularly. He was meagre, but active in
his make, with a long, pale, bilious face; a black, ill-shaven beard, a
feverish eye, and a hat sharpened up at the sides into a most
pragmatical shape. He had a newspaper in his hand, and seemed to be
commenting on its contents, to the thorough conviction of mine host.

At sight of Master Simon the landlord was evidently a little flurried,
and began to rub his hands, edge away from his corner, and make several
profound publican bows; while the