Everybody liked and trusted Master Cale, and he was said to be the
best-informed man in London town on matters connected with the
court and its fashionable throng of hangers on.
As Tom walked onwards he realized for the first time in his life
what a rustic-looking fellow he must appear. He had felt himself
smart enough at home in his leather breeches, brown frieze
double-breasted coat, scarlet vest, and riding boots, his hair tied
behind with a scarlet riband to match the vest. But as he beheld
the fine gentlemen lounging arm in arm along the streets in their
huge curled wigs, gorgeous waistcoats reaching sometimes to the
knees, gold embroidered coats, with huge cuffs turned back almost
to the elbows, and scarfs of every hue of the rainbow supporting
their swords, he felt himself a mere boor and bumpkin, and wondered
much whether Master Cale would ever be able to turn him out a fine
gentleman, fit to associate with those he saw in the streets.
As he pursued his way westward, he met parties of young rakes and
roisterers setting out for the theatres, the play being then an
earlier function than it has become of late years.
These men were swaggering along arm in arm, exchanging ribald jests
with each other, and insulting the inoffensive passers by with
coarse remarks interlarded with oaths, and, whenever occasion
offered, tripping them up with their swords or canes and landing
them in the gutter.
Pages:
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57