In this species of service it may be easily supposed that Jenkin
Vincent left his more reserved and bashful comrade far in the
background. The latter could only articulate with difficulty, and as
an act of duty which he was rather ashamed of discharging, the
established words of form--"What d'ye lack?--What d'ye lack?--Clocks--
watches--barnacles?--What d'ye lack?--Watches--clocks--barnacles?--
What d'ye lack, sir? What d'ye lack, madam?--Barnacles--watches--
clocks?"
But this dull and dry iteration, however varied by diversity of verbal
arrangement, sounded flat when mingled with the rich and
recommendatory oratory of the bold-faced, deep-mouthed, and ready-
witted Jenkin Vincent.--"What d'ye lack, noble sir?--What d'ye lack,
beauteous madam?" he said, in a tone at once bold and soothing, which
often was so applied as both to gratify the persons addressed, and to
excite a smile from other hearers.--"God bless your reverence," to a
beneficed clergyman; "the Greek and Hebrew have harmed your
reverence's eyes--Buy a pair of David Ramsay's barnacles. The King--
God bless his Sacred Majesty!--never reads Hebrew or Greek without
them."
"Are you well avised of that?" said a fat parson from the Vale of
Evesham. "Nay, if the Head of the Church wears them,--God bless his
Sacred Majesty!--I will try what they can do for me; for I have not
been able to distinguish one Hebrew letter from another, since--I
cannot remember the time--when I had a bad fever.
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