As great men are urged on to the abuse of power (when they need urging,
which is not often), by their flatterers and dependents, so old John was
impelled to these exercises of authority by the applause and admiration
of his Maypole cronies, who, in the intervals of their nightly pipes and
pots, would shake their heads and say that Mr Willet was a father of the
good old English sort; that there were no new-fangled notions or modern
ways in him; that he put them in mind of what their fathers were when
they were boys; that there was no mistake about him; that it would be
well for the country if there were more like him, and more was the pity
that there were not; with many other original remarks of that nature.
Then they would condescendingly give Joe to understand that it was
all for his good, and he would be thankful for it one day; and in
particular, Mr Cobb would acquaint him, that when he was his age, his
father thought no more of giving him a parental kick, or a box on the
ears, or a cuff on the head, or some little admonition of that sort,
than he did of any other ordinary duty of life; and he would further
remark, with looks of great significance, that but for this judicious
bringing up, he might have never been the man he was at that present
speaking; which was probable enough, as he was, beyond all question,
the dullest dog of the party.
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