, in fine, acted like a consummate
hypocrite, and as gentlemen of the highest birth and most spotless integrity act
when they wish to make themselves agreeable to their constituents, and have some
end to gain of the country folks. How is it that we allow ourselves, not to be
deceived, but to be ingratiated so readily by a glib tongue, a ready laugh, and
a frank manner? We know, for the most part, that it is false coin, and we take
it; we know that it is flattery, which it costs nothing to distribute to
everybody, and we had rather have it than be without it. Friend Pen went about
at Clavering, laboriously simple and adroitly pleased, and quite a different
being from the scornful and rather sulky young dandy whom the inhabitants
remembered ten years ago.
    The Rectory was shut up. Doctor Portman was gone, with his gout and his
family, to Harrogate; an event which Pen deplored very much in a letter to the
Doctor, in which, in a few kind and simple words, he expressed his regret at not
seeing his old friend, whose advice he wanted and whose aid he might require
some day. But Pen consoled himself for the Doctor's absence, by making
acquaintance with Mr. Simcoe, the opposition preacher, and with the two partners
of the cloth-factory at Chatteris, and with the Independent preacher there, all
of whom he met at the Clavering Athenæum, which the Liberal party had set up in
accordance with the advanced spirit of the age, and perhaps in opposition to the
aristocratic old reading-room, into which the Edinburgh Review had once scarcely
got an admission, and where no tradesmen were allowed an entrance. He
propitiated the younger partner of the cloth-factory, by asking him to dine in a
friendly way at the Park; he complimented the Honourable Mrs. Simcoe with hares
and partridges from the same quarter, and a request to read her husband's last
sermon; and being a little unwell one day, the rascal took advantage of the
circumstance to show his tongue to Mr. Huxter, who sent him medicines and called
the next morning. How delighted old Pendennis would have been with his pupil!
Pen himself was amused with the sport in which he was engaged, and his success
inspired him with a wicked good-humour.
    And yet, as he walked out of Clavering of a night, after presiding at a
meeting of the Athenæum, or working through an evening with Mrs. Simcoe, who,
with her husband, was awed by the young Londoner's reputation,
