MR. SHEPHERD. But that, I believe, is not the case; and within my own confined experience I have known several truly respectable and humane butchers. Our laws themselves are sanguinary; and they do not make the same exception to the military or naval characters, both which professions have too much to do with the effusion of blood.
GOODMAN. What do you think, sir, of the post-boy who cuts and over-drives his horses?
MR. SHEPHERD. What do I think of the gentleman who sits behind him, and permits it--nay, encourages him, and pays him extra for distressing them, merely to bring him a few minutes sooner to the end of his stage?
MR. SHEPHERD. And so had I--it is a consolation to me often, in my journeys on foot, that no beast suffers for my accommodation.
The vein of morality which runs through the dialogue is exquisitely touching, and in the hands of Terry or Macready we think Goodman might be made highly effective--Young would be excellent in the "Rev." Mr. Shepherd, and in the latter part of the act, where Goodman discovers in the clergyman a friend who "put up at the Wheat Sheaf, at Blessbury, twenty-five years before," would make a decided hit--when pushing away his ease and comfort, the Reverend Gentleman returns thanks for having made the butcher what he finds him.
The conclusion of the first act is happily imagined, and highly theatrical:--
MR. SHEPHERD. If you please, I will retire to rest--I heard your evening hymn, and interrupted your prayer in the hope of joining in it. Of whose devotions do you make use?
GOODMAN. Bishop Wilson's, sir--but you will be so good as to lead for us.
MR. SHEPHERD. If you please--but in general I know not that you can do better than make use of the pious bishop.
MR. SHEPHERD. I will have it in my hand, if you please, but our own peculiar circumstances require our own peculiar thanks and petitions.
[_George brings the book, and gives it to Mr. S., and whilst they are looking at him, as if waiting for his kneeling first, the curtain drops._]
It is impossible not to feel such a scene deeply--its dramatic quality and the powerful effect that such a style of representation could not fail to have upon a thinking audience.
In the second act Goodman dispatches a leg of mutton to Lord Orwell's, and puts up a prayer--Mrs. Goodman inquires if the gentleman's shoes are cleaned, and mentions that she must go and look at the rolls in the camp oven: subsequently to which we are presented with a scene at his Lordship's, who desires the butcher to sit down, and enters into conversation about "Fiorin grass," which Goodman says will produce six ton per acre. His Lordship then recommends a work called "The Experienced Butcher," published by Darton and Harvey, Gracechurch Street, price 6s.--in return for which Goodman mentions the arrival of Mr. Shepherd, and recommends him for the curacy of Gladford, the new rector having refused to countenance him. Whereupon Lord Orwell says to the butcher (taking his hand), "Mr. Goodman, this, like every part of your conduct, raises you in my esteem; depend upon my services wherever they can be useful."