Ijtcit' Vm!-' -iixflfr W't^Pli ""ls'*-"'tr '" ''T ''' ',■> ■|r':'r^'ir V,:.. ►.,.-.11. *»».-. 1 f*:*»;nf *iHi^»»-. -.•aH«j iiKv. . - U -• W«** *» 1-^ ) ■ v, K-* . J Mil - . ^ 7y / ? ^/- QUINTUS QUOZZLE'S CATASTROPHE.— Boofc II, i^a^^e 121. NEAL'S CHARCOAL SKETCHES. THREE BOOKS COMPLETE IN ONE. 'But good listeners, as there has been unhappily too much occasion to show, are rarities." — Book III, page 91. PHILADELPHIA: T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, 306 Chestnut Street. CHARCOAL SKETCHES. THREE BOOKS COMPLETE IN ONE. CONTAINING THE WHOLE OP HIS FAMOUS Charcoal Sketches; Peter Faber's Misfortunes; Peter Ploddy's Dream; AS WELL AS HIS ORIGINAL PAPERS OF THE UONS OF SOCIETY; OLYMPUS PUMP; AND MUSIC MAD. TO WHICH IS ADDED / FORTY-ONE OTHER SKETCHES BY JOSEPH Cj NEAL. ILLUSTRATIVE OF HIS OWN OBSERVATIONS AND EXPEEIENCB. BEING THE ONLY COMPLETE EDITION OP HIS WRITINGS KVER BEFORE COLLECTED AND ISSUED COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME. WITH TWENTY-ONE ILLUSTRATIONS. FROM OEIGINAL DESIGNS BY FELIX 0. 0. DARLET. P I) 1 1 a It e I ]3 1) i a : T. B. PETEESOlSr & BKOTHERS, 306 CHESTNUT STREET. i Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, In the Clerk's OflSce of the District Court of the United States, in and for the Eastern District of PennsylTania. COLLINS, PRINTER, 705 JAYNE STREET. CONTENTS BOOK THE FIRST. PAGE Olympus Pump; or, the Poetic Temperament 7 'Tis only my Husband 16 Orson Dabbs, the Hittite 31 Rocky Smalt; or, the Dangers of Imitation 39 Undeveloped Genius. A Passage in the Life of P. Pilgarlick Pigwiggen, Esq 50 The best-natured Man in the World 60 A pair of Slippers ; or. Falling Weather 70 Indecision. — Duberly Doubtingtou, the Man who couldn't make up his Mind "79 Dilly Jones ; or, the Progress of Improvement 93 The Fleshy One 100 Garden Theatricals 114 Peter Brush, the great Used Up 130 Music Mad ; or, the Melomaniac 142 Ripton Rumsey; A Tale of the Waters 155 A whole-souled Fellow ; or, the Decline and Fall of Tippleton Tipps 163 Gamaliel Gambril ; or, Domestic Uneasiness 183 The Crooked Disciple; or, the Pride of Muscle 194 Fydget Fyxington 207 BOOK THE SECOND. ** Boots; or, the Misfortunes of Peter Faber 7 The Man that danced the Polka ; or, the Oak and the Violet.... 21 Perry Winkle ; or, "Just what I Expected " 30 The Moral of Goslyne Greene, who was born to a Fortune 43 (3) 4 CONTENTS. PAGK Johnny Jumpup, the Rising Son 57 Mr. Kerr Mudgeon ; or, "You Won't, Won't You" 68 A Bore, in Charcoal 78 *' Look at the Clock;" or, A " Pretty Time of Night" 87 Sherrie Kobler ; or, a Search after Fun 98 Singleton Snippe, who Married for a Living 109 Quintus Quozzle's Catastrophe — a Phrenological Illustration.... 121 Dashes at Life ; or. Splashes in Philadelphia 132 The Trials of Timothy Tantrum 138 The Lions of Society — Potts, Peters, and Bobus 150 David Dumps, the Doleful One 156 Flyntey Harte ; or, the Hardening Process 168 The Merry Christmas ; or, the Happy New Year of Mr. Dunn Brown 180 Peleg W. Ponder; or, the Politician without a Side 187 BOOK THE THIRD. Peter Ploddy's Dream 5 The Black Maria 24 Slyder Downehylle , 37 Highdays and Holidays 54 The News-boy 63 (xossip about Gossiping 82 Shiverton Shakes 99 The Boys that Run with the Engine 125 Jack Spratte's Revenge 140 Corner Loungers 166 ILLUSTRATIONS BOOK I. PAGE 12 Olympus Pump ♦' There ! that dog's oflf, and the ketchers are coming— Carlo ! Carlo!" ^^ " Mons'us warm, Miss, and dancing makes it mons' usser " 110 *' Every man for himself ! phre-e-e ! bro-o-o ! who's got some splatterdocks ?;; ^^^ BOOK II *♦ Boots 1" was the sepulchral reply 14 Perry Winkle ; or, *'Just what I expected" 30 The Moral of Goslyne Greene, who was horn to a Fortune 43 Mr. Kerr Mudgeon ; or, " You Won't, Won't You " 68 Quintus Quozzle's Catastrophe {face title) 121 Dashes at Life ; or, Splashes in Philadelphia 132 The Lions of Society 1^^ BOOK III. "'Put the genus in a wheelbarrow,' exclaimed Dogberry, in tones of command, ' and make the t'other fellers walk.' " 18 *'The last time he was seen by credible witnesses, they noted I him busily employed in playing 'All Fours,' in front of John Gin's hostelry — a game probably selected as emblematic of his now creeping condition" 52 ** Here comes one— a woman — traces of comeliness still linger even amid the more enduring marks of sin, poverty, and sorrow" ^2 (5) 6 ILLUSTRATIONS. PAOR " Look ye, too, where comes the forgotten tailor, the neglected hatter, the unsought shoemaker, with a long line of others who have administered to your convenience " 60 Tom Tibbs— the News-boy 68 "But good listeners, as there has been unhappily too much oc- casion to show, are rarities "...... {title cut) 91 " 'Now I come in, so,' and he threw his head aside in a lan- guishing manner — ' Hope you're very well, Mrs. Marygold — that chair's the old lady — how dee doo, Mrs. Marygold — how's Bob ? — no, not Bob — how is Mr. Robert ? — then that bed post's the old man — compliments to the old man — that wash-stand is the young ladies, all of a bunch" 110 ** In the group which forms the subject of our story, such a one will be seen in the person of Hickey Hammer — he who leans against the wall, with club in hand and with a most majestic sternness in his countenance" 136 " He finally bought his fish, and as they dangled from his hand, so did he dangle after Miss Phinney, and the combined per- severance of dangling and purchasing at last brought him to the haven of his hopes. They were married, and Miss Felicia Phinney was duly metamorphosed into Mrs. Brownstout ".... 157 *' They literally are the pillars of the state. They prop up lamp- posts, patronize fire-plugs, and encourage the lindens of the street in their unpractised efforts to grow " 167 NEAL'S CHARCOAL SKETCHES. BOOK THE FIRST. ^ CHARCOAL SKETCHES. OLYMPUS PUMP; OR, THE POETIC TEMPERAMENT. It is said that poetry is on the decline, and that as man surrounds himself with artificial comforts, and devotes his energies to purposes of practical utility, the sphere of imagination becomes circumscribed, and the worship of the Muses is neglected. We are somewhat disposed to assent to this conclusion ; the more from having remarked the fact that the true poetic temperament is not so fre- quently met with as it was a few years since, and that the outward marks of genius daily become more rare. Where the indications no longer exist, or where they gradually disappear, it is but fair to conclude that the thing itself is perishing. There are, it is true, many de- lightful versifiers at the present moment, but we fear that though they display partial evidences of inspiration upon paper, the scintillations are deceptive. Their conduct seldom exhibits sufficient proof that they are touched with the celestial fire, to justify the public in regarding them as the genuine article. Judging from the rules formerly considered absolute upon this point, it is alto- gether preposterous for your happy, well-behaved, well- dressed, smoothly-shaved gentleman, who pays liis debts, 8 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. and submits quietly to the laws framed for the govern- ment of the uninspired part of society, to arrogate to himself a place in the first rank of the sons of genius, whatever may be his merits with the gray goose quill. Tliere is something defective about him. The divine afflatus has been denied, and though he may flap his wings, and soar as high as the house-tops, no one can think him capable of cleaving the clouds, and of playing hide and seek among the stars. Even if he were to do so, the spectator would either believe that his eyes de- ceived him, or that the successful flight was accidental, and owing rather to a temporary density of the atmo- sphere than to a strength of pinion. The true poetic temperament of the old school is a gift as fatal, as that of being able to sing a good song is to a youth with whom the exercise of the vocal organ is not a profession. It was — and to a certain extent is — an axiom, that an analogy almost perfect exists between the poet and the dolphin. To exhibit their beautiful hues they must both be on the broad road to destruction. We are fully aware that it has been supposed by sceptical spirits that there is some confusion of cause and effect in arriv- ing at this conclusion, — that there is no sufficient reason that genius should be a bad citizen. The existence of an irresistible impulse to break the shackles of conven- tionalism has been doubted by the heterodox. They de- clare that a disposition to do so is felt by most men, and that aberrations are indulged in, partly from a principle of imitation, because certain shining lights have thought proper to render themselves as conspicuous for their ec- centricities as for their genius, and chiefly from a belief that society expects such wanderings, and regards them with lenity. But analysis is not our forte, even if we were disposed to cavil at such convenient things as OLYMPUS PUMP. ^ lumping generalities. Your inquiring philosophers are troublesome fellows, and while we content ourselves with the bare fact, let them seek rerum cognoscere causas. It is, however, a satisfaction to know that the full- blooded merino is not yet quite extinct. Olympus Pump is the personification of the temperament of which we speak. Had there been a little less of the divine essence of poesy mingled with the clay of which he is composed, it would have been better for him. The crockery of his moral constitution would have been the more adapted to the household uses of this kitchen world. But Pump delights in being the pure porcelain, and would scorn the admixture of that base alloy, which, while it might render him more useful, would diminish his ornamental quali- ties. He proudly feels that he was intended to be a mantel embellishment to bear bouquets, not a mere utensil for the scullery ; and that he is not now fulfilling his destiny, arises solely from the envy and uncharitable- ness of those gross and malignant spirits with which the world abounds. Occupied continually in his mental laboratory, fabricating articles which he finds unsaleable, and sometimes stimulating his faculties with draughts of Scheidam, the " true Hippocrene," he slips from station to station, like a child tumbling down stairs ; and now, having arrived at the lowest round of fortune's lad- der, he believes it was envy that tugged at his coat tails, and caused his descent, and that the human race are a vast band of conspirators. There are no Maecenases in these modern times to help those who will not help them- selves; no, not even a Capel Loflft, to cheer the Pumps of the nineteenth century. No kindly arm toils at the handle : and if he flows, each Pump must pump fo'- himself. Such, at least, is the conclusion at which Olym 10 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. pus has arrived, and he has melancholy reasons for be- lieving that in his instance he is correct. Thus, while his mind is clothing its varied fancies in rich attire, and his exulting spirit is gambolling and luxuriating in the clover and timothy of imagination's wide domain, or drinking fairy Champagne and eating canvass-back ducks in air-drawn palaces, his outward man is too frequently enduring the sad reverse of these unreal delights. He may often be seen, when the weather is cold, leaning his back against a post on the sunny side of the street ; hi? hands, for lack of coin, filling his roomy pockets ; his curious toes peeping out at crannies to see the world ; an indulgence extended to them by few but the Pump family; and his elbows and knees following the example of his lower extremities. Distress, deep thought, or some other potent cause has transplanted the roses from the garden of his cheek to that no longer sterile promon- tory his nose, while his chin shows just such a stubble as would be invaluable for the polishing brush of a boot- black. But luckily the poetic temperament has its compensa- tions. When not too much depressed, Olympus Pump has a world of his own within his cranium ; a world which should be a model for that without, — a world in which there is nothing to do, and every thing to get for the ask- ing. If in his periods of intellectual abstraction, the external atmosphere should nip his frame, the high price of coal affects him not. In the palace of the mind, fuel costs nothing, and he can there toast himself brown free of expense. Does he desire a tea-party ? — the guests are in his noddle at his call, willing to stay, or ready to depart, at his command, without " standing on the order of their going;" and the imagined tables groan with viands which wealth might exhaust itself to procure. OLYMPUS PUMP. 11 Does he require sweet music ? — the poetic fancy can perform an opera, or manufacture hosts of Frank John- sons in the twinkling of an eye ; and the celestial crea- tures, who waltz and galope in the spacious salons of his brain-pan, are endowed with loveliness which reality can never parallel. With such advantages, Pump, much as he grumbles, would not exchange the coruscations of his genius, which flicker and flare like the aurora borealis, for a " whole wilderness" of comfort, if it were necessary that he should entertain dull, plodding thoughts, and make himself " generally useful." Can he not, while he warms his fingers at the fire of imagination, darn his stockings and patch his clothes with the needle of his wit ; wash his linen and his countenance in the waters of Helicon ; and, silting on the peak of Parnassus, devour imaginary fried oysters with Apollo and the Muses ? But either " wool gathering" is not very profitable, or else the envy of which Pump complains is stronger than ever ; for not long since, after much poetic idleness, and a protracted frolic, he was seen, in the witching time of night, sitting on a stall in the new market house, for the very suflicient reason that he did not exactly know where else lodging proportioned to the state of his fiscai department could be found. He spoke : " How blue ! how darkly, deeply, beautifully blue ! — not me myself, but the expanse of ether. The stars wink through the curtain of the air, like a fond mother to her drowsy child, as much as to say hush-a-by-baby to a wearied world. In the moon's mild rays even the crags of care like sweet rock-candy shine. Night is a Carthagenian Hannibal to sorrow, melting its Alpine steeps, whilst buried hope pops up revived and cracks its rosy shins. Day may serve to light sordid man to 12 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. his labours ; it may be serviceable to let calabashes and squashes see how to grow ; but the poetic soul sparkles beneath the stars. Genius never feels its oats until after sunset ; twilight applies the spanner to the fireplug of fancy to give its bubbling fountains way ; and mid- night lifts the sluices for the cataracts of the heart, and cries, * Pass on the water !' Yes, and economically con- sidered, night is this world's Spanish cloak ; for no mat- ter how dilapidated or festooned one's apparel may be, the loops and windows cannot be discovered, and we look as elegant and as beautiful as get out. Ah !" con- tinued Pump, as he gracefully reclined upon the stall, " it's really astonishing how rich I am in the idea line to-night. But it's no use. I've got no pencil — not even a piece of chalk to write 'em on my hat for my next poem. It's a great pity ideas are so much of the soap- bubble order, that you can't tie 'em up in a pocket hand- kerchief, like a half peck of potatoes, or string 'em on a stick like catfish. I often have the most beautiful notions scampering through my head with the grace, but alas ! the swiftness too, of kittens — especially just before I get asleep — but they're all lost for the want of a trap ; an intellectual figgery four. I wish we could find out the way of sprinkling salt on their tails, and make 'em wait till we want to use 'em. Why can't some of the meaner souls invent an idea catcher for the use of genius ? I'm sure they'd find it profitable, for I wouldn't mind owing a man twenty dollars for one myself. Oh, for an idea catcher!" Owen Glendower failed in calling up spirits, but the eloquence of Pump was more efl[icacious. In the heavy shadow of a neighbouring pile of goods a dark mass ap- peared to detach itself, as if a portion of the gloom had suddenly become animated. It stepped forth in the 1 ow blu-t ! how ctccrily deeply 'beauh/uUy j^,. ^^Ijjblue^ not vie myse'/fiut thaexfiant e of eth erJ^F.ll j^SFi "Ah !" continued Pump, as he gracefully reclined upon the stall, "it's really aston- ishing how rich I am in the idea line to-niglit. But it's no use. I've got no pencil — not even a piece of chalk to write 'em on my hat for my next poem. It's a great pity ideas are so much of the soap-hubhle order, that you can't tie 'em up in a pocket hand- kerchief, like a half peck of potatoes, or string 'em on a stick like catfish." — Book I, "pnge 1 2 OLYMPUS PUMP. 13 likeness of a man, mysteriously wrapped up, whose eyes glared fiercely, and with a sinister aspect, as he advanced towards the poet. Pump stared in silence — he felt like an idea, and as if the catcher were close at hand, ready to pounce upon it. *' Catching the idea" for once seemed a disagreeable operation. The parties confronted each other for a time without saying a word. A cloud hurrying across the moon lent additional terror to the scene, and the unknown, to Pump's astonished vision, appeared to swell to a supernatural size. The stranger, at last, waved his arm, hemmed thrice, and in the deep, deci- sive tones of one used to command, said : "It's not a new case — it's been decided frequent. It's clearly agin the ordination made and j ovided, and it's likewise agin the act" — "Ah me! what act?" ejaculated the astonished Pump. " To fetch yourself to anchor on the stalls. It isn't what the law considers pooty behaviour, and no gem- man would be cotched at it. To put the case, now, would it be genteel for a man to set on the table at dinner-time ? Loafing on the stalls is jist as bad as rolling among the dishes." " Oh, is that all ? I'm immersed in poetic conceptions ; I'm holding sweet communion with my own desolate affections. Leave me, leave me to the luxuriance of imagination ; sufier me, as it were, to stray through the glittering realms of fancy." *• What ! on a mutton butcher's shambles ? Bless you, I can't think of it for a moment. My notions is rigid, and if I was to find my own daddy here, I'd rouse him out. You must tortle off, as fast as you kin. If your tongue wasn't so thick, I'd say you must mosey ; but moseying is only to be done when a gemman's half shot ; 14 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. when they're gone cases, we don't expect 'em to do more nor tortle." '* Excuse me — I don't see that it makes much differ- ence to you whether I am qualified to mosey, or am only capable of the more dignified method of locomotion, which you call to tortle. But don't disturb me. The moon has resuscitated my fancy, and I feel as if I would shortly compose an ode to Nox and Erebus." *' Compose what's owed to Messrs. Nox and Erebus ! Yes, I thought you were one of that sort what makes compositions when they owe any thing. Precious little Nox and Erebus will get out of you. But come, hop the twig!" So saying, the relentless guardian of the night seized the hapless Pump by the collar, and began to remove him. " Now, don't — don't be gross and muscular. I'm an oppressed man, with no friend but my coat, and both my coat and myself are remarkable for fragility of con- stitution. We are free souls, vibrating on the breath of the circumambient atmosphere, and by long companion- ship, our sympathies are so perfect, that if you pull hard you'll produce a pair of catastrophes ; while you tear the one, you'll discombobberate the nerves of the other." *' Well, Pm be blamed !" said the watch, recoiling, " did you ever hear the likes of that ? Why, aunty, ain't you a noncompusser ?" " Pm a poet, and it's my fate not to be understood either by the world in general, or by Charleys in parti- cular. The one knocks us down, and the others take us up. Between the two, we are knocked about like a ball, until we become unravelled, and perish." "I don't want to play shinney with you, no how — why don't you go home ?" ** The bottle is empty ; the bill unpaid ; landlords are OLYMPUS PUMP. 15 vulgar realities — mere matters of fact — and very apt to vituperate." " Well, it's easy enough to work, get money, fill the bottle, and pay the gemman what you owes him." " I tell you again you can't understand the poetic soul. It cannot endure the scorn and contumelies of the earthly. It cannot submit to toil under a taskmaster, and when weaving silver tissues of romance, be told to jump about spry and 'tend the shop. Nor, when it meets congenial spirits, can it leave the festive board, because the door is to be locked at ten o'clock, and there isn't any dead latch to it. The delicate excesses into which it leads us, to repair the exhaustion of hard thought, compel us to sojourn long in bed, and even that is registered by fip- and-levy boobies as a sin. At the present moment, I am falling a victim to these manifold oppressions of the un- intellectual." " Under the circumstances, then, what do you say to being tuck up ?" ** Is it optional ?" " I don't know ; but it's fineable, and that's as good." ** Then I decline the honour." " No, you don't. I only axed out of manners. You must rise up, William Riley, and come along with me, as the song says." *' I suppose I must, whether I like the figure or not. Alack, and alas for the poetic temperament ! Must the iEolian harp of genius be so rudely swept by a Charley — must that harp, as I may say, play mere banjo jigs, when it should only respond in Lydian measures to the south- ern breezes of palpitating imagination? To what base uses"— . •' Hurrah ! Keep a toddling — pull foot and away !" Olympus obeyed ; for who can control his fate ^ ( 16) 'TIS ONLY MY HUSBAND .« " Goodness, Mrs. Pumpilion, it's a gentleman's voice, and me such a figure !" exclaimed Miss Amanda Corn- top, who had just arrived in town to visit her friend, Mrs. Pumpilion, whom she had not seen since her mar- riage. '* Don't disturb yourself, dear," said Mrs. Pumpilion, quietly, *' it's nobody — 'tis only my husband. He'll not come in ; but if he does, 'tis only my husband." So Miss Amanda Corntop was comforted, and her agitated arrangements before the glass bemg more coolly completed, she. resumed her seat and the interrupted con- versation. Although, as a spinster, she had a laudable and natural unwillingness to be seen by any of the mas- culine gender in that condition so graphically described as " such a figure," yet there are degrees in this unwill- ingness. It is by no means so painful to be caught a figure by a married man as it is to be surprised by a youthful bachelor; and, if the former be of that peculiar class known as *' only my husband," his unexpected arrival is of very little consequence. He can never more, "like an eagle in a dove cote, flutter the Volsces " • It may not be amiss to state that the mere conclusion of the above sketch, hastily thrown off by the same pen, appeared in one of our periodicals a few years ago, and, much mutilated and dis- figured, has since been republished in the newspapers, with an erro- neous credit, and under a different name. *TIS ONLY MY HUSBAND. it It is, therefore, evident that there exists a material differ- ence between '* my husband" and " only my husband;*' a difference not easily expressed, though perfectly un- derstood ; and it was that understanding which restored Miss Amanda Corntop to her pristine tranquillity. *' Oh !" said Miss Corntop, when she heard that the voice in question was that of Mr. Pumpilion. "Ah !* added Miss Corntop, intelligently and composedly, when she understood that Pumpilion was *' only my hus- band.'* She had not paid much attention to philology but she was perfectly aware of the value of that diminu- tive prefix "only.'* " I told you he would not come in, for he knew there was some one here," continued Mrs. Pumpilion, as the spiritless footsteps of " only my husband" passed the door, and slowly plodded up stairs. He neither came in, nor did he hum, whistle, or bound three steps at a time; "only my husband" never does. He is simply a transportation line ; he conveys himself from place to place according to order, and indulges not in episodes and embellishments. Poor Pedrigo Pumpilion ! Have all thy glories shrunk to this little measure ? Only my husband ! Does thai appellation circumscribe him who once found three chairs barely sufficient to accommodate his frame, and who, in promenading, never skulked to the curb or hugged the wall, but, like a man who justly appreciated himself, took the very middle of the trottoir, and kept it ? The amiable, but now defunct, Mrs. Anguish was never sure that she was perfectly well, until she had shaken her pretty head to ascertain if some disorder were not lying in ambush, and to discover whether a head- ache were not latent there, which, if not nipped in the bud, might be suddenly and inconveniently brought into 132 18 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. action. It is not too much to infer that the same reason- ing, which applies to headaches and to the physical con- stitution, may be of equal force in reference to the moral organization. Headaches being latent, it is natural to suppose that the disposition to be ♦* only my husband" may likewise be latent, even in him who is now as fierce and as uncontrollable as a volcano ; while the desire to be " head of the bureau'* may slumber in the mildest of the fair. It is by circumstance alone that talent is developed ; the razor itself requires extraneous aid to bring it to an edge ; and the tact to give direction, as well as the faci- lity to obey, wait to be elicited by events. Both grey- mareism and Jerry-Sneakery are sometimes latent, and like the derangements of Mrs. Anguish's caput, only want shaking to manifest themselves. If some are born to command, others must certainly have a genius for sub- mission — we term it a genius, submission being in many cases rather a difficult thing. That this division of qualities is full of wisdom, none can deny. It requires both flint and steel to produce a spark ; both powder and ball to do execution ; and, though the Chinese contrive to gobble an infinity of rice with chopsticks, yet the twofold operation of knife and fork conduces much more to the comfort of a dinner. Authority and obedience are the knife and fork of this extensive banquet, the world ; they are the true divide et impera ; that which is sliced off by the one is har- pooned by the other. In this distribution, however, nature, when the '* la- tcnts" are made apparent, very frequently seems to act with caprice. It is by no means rare to find in the form of a man, a timid, retiring, feminine disposition, which, in the rough encounters of existence, gives way at once, as if like woman, "born to be controlled." The proper- 'tis only my husband. 19 tions of a Hercules, valenced witli the whiskers of a tiger, often cover a heart with no more of energy and boldness ! in its pulsations than the little palpitating affair which throbs in the bosom of a maiden of bashful fifteen; while many a lady fair, before marriage — the latent condition — all softuess and graceful humility, bears within her breast the fiery resolution and the indo- mitable will of an Alexander, a Hannibal, or a Doctor Francia. The temperament which, had she been a man, would, in an extended field, have made her a con- queror of nations, or, in a more contracted one, a dis- tinguished thief-catching police officer, by being lodged in a female frame renders her a Xantippe — a Napoleon of the fireside, and pens her hapless mate, like a con- quered king, a spiritless captive in his own chimney corner. But it is plain to be seen that this apparent confusion lies only in the distribution. There are souls enough of all kinds in the world, but they do not always seem pro- perly fitted with bodies ; and thus a corporal construc- tion may run the course of life actuated by a spirit in every respect opposed to its capabilities ; as at the breaking up of a crowded soiree^ a little head waggles home with an immense castor, while a pumpkin pate sallies forth surmounted by a thimble ; which, we take it, is the only philosophical theory which at all accounts for the frequent acting out of character with which society is replete. Hence arises the situation of affairs with the Pumpi- lions. Pedrigo Pumpilion has the soul which legitimate- ly appertains to his beloved Seraphina Serena, while Seraphina Serena Pumpilion has that which should animate her Pedrigo. But, not being profound in thei* researches, they are probably not aware of the fact, and 20 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. perhaps would not know their own souls if they were to meet them in the street ; although, in all likelihood, it was a mysterious sympathy — a yearning of each physi- cal individuality to be near so important a part of itself, which brought this worthy pair together. Be that, however, as it may, it is an incontrovertible fact that, before they did come together, Pedrigo Pumpi- lion thought himself quite a model of humanity ; and piqued himself upon possessing much more of the fortiter in re than of the suaviter in modo — a mistake, the latter quality being latent, but abundant. He dreamed that he was brimming with valour, and fit, not only to lead squadrons to the field, but likewise to remain with them when they were there. At the sound of drums and trumpets, he perked up his chin, stuck out his breast, straightened his vertebral column, and believed that he, Pedrigo, was precisely the individual to storm a fortress at the head of a forlorn hope — a greater mistake. But the greatest error of the whole troop of blunders was his making a Pumpilion of Miss Seraphina Serena Dolce, with the decided impression that he was, while sharing his kingdom, to remain supreme in authority. Knowing nothing of the theory already broached, he took her for a feminine feminality, and yielded himself a victim to sympathy and the general welfare. Now, in this, strict- ly considered, Pedrigo had none but himself to blame ; he had seen manifestations of her spirit ; the latent energy had peeped out more than once ; he had entered unexpect- edly, before being installed as ** only my husband,'* and found Miss Seraphina dancing the grand rigadoon on a luckless bonnet which did not suit her fancy. — a species of exercise whereat he marvelled , and he had likewise witnessed her performance of the remarkable feat of whirling a caf which had scratched her hand, across the 'tis only my husband. 21 room by the tail, whereby the mirror was infinitesimally divided into homoeopathic doses, and whereby pussy, the patient, was most allopathically phlebotomised and scan- iied. He likewise knew that her musical education ter- minated in an operatic crash, the lady having in a fit of impatience demolished the guitar over the head of her teacher ; but, in this instance, the mitigatmg plea must be allowed that it was done because the instrument - wouldn't play good," a perversity to which mstru- ments, like lessons - which won't learn," are lament- ably liable. These little escapades, however, did not deter Fum- pilion. Confiding in his own talent for governing, he liked his Seraphina none the less for her accidental dis- plays of energy, and smiled to think how, under his administration, his reproving frown would cast oil upon the waves, and how, as he repressed her irritability, he would develope her affections, results which would both Bave the crockery and increase his comforts. Of the Pumpilion tactique in courtship some idea may be formed from the following conversation. Pedrigo had an intimate associate, some years his senior,— Mr. Michael Mitts, a spare and emaciated bachelor, whose hawk nose, crookedly set on, well represented the eccen- tricity of his conclusions, while the whistling pucker m which he generally wore his mouth betokened acidity of mind rendered sourer by indecision. Mitts was ad- dicted to observation, and, engaged in the drawing of inferences and in generalizing from individual instances, he had, like many others, while trimming the safety lamp of experience, suffered the time of action to pass by unimproved. His cautiousness was so great as te trammel up his - motive power," and, though long in tending to marry, the best part of his life had evaporated 22 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. in the unproductive employment of '* looking about." His experience, therefore, had stored him with that species of wisdom which one meets with in theoretical wooers, and he had many learned saws at the ser- vice of those who were bolder than himself, and were determined to enter the pale through which he peeped. As every one in love must have a confidant, Pedrigo had selected Mitts for that office, knowing his peculiar talent for giving advice, and laying down rules for others to act upon. " Pedrigo," said Mitts, as he flexed his nose still further from the right line of conformity to the usages of the world, and slacked the drawing strings of his mouth to get it out of pucker ; " Pedrigo, if you are resolved upon marrying this identical individual — I don't see the use, for mv part, of being in a hurry — better look about a while , plenty more of 'em — but if you are resolved, the first ihing to be done is to make sure of her. That's unde- niable. The only diff'erence of opinion, if you won't wait and study character — character's a noble study — is as to the modus operandi. Now, the lady's not sure because she's committed; just the contrary, — that's the very reason she's not sure. My experience shows me that when it's not so easy to retract, the attention, especially that of young women, is drawn to retrac- tion. Somebody tells of a bird in a cage that grumbled about being cooped up. It's clear to me that the bird did not complain so much because it was in the cage, as it did because it couldn't get out — that's bird nature, and it's human nature too." " Ah, indeed !" responded Pumpilion, with a smile of confidence in his own attractions, mingled, however, with a look which spoke that the philosophy of Mitts, 'tis only my husband. 23 having for its object to render " assurance double sure, did not pass altogether unheeded. "It's a fact," added Mitts; "don't be too secure Be as assiduous and as mellifluous as you please before your divinity ovi^ns the soft impeachment ; but afterwards comes the second stage, and policy commands that it should be one rather of anxiety to her. You must every now and then play Captain Grand, or else she may perform the part herself. Take offence frequently ; vary your Romeo scenes with an occasional touch of the snow storm, and afterwards excuse yourself on the score of jealous affection; that excuse always answers. No- thing sharpens love like a smart tiff by way of embellish- ment. The sun itself would not look so bright if it were not for the intervention of night ; and these little agita- tions keep her mind tremulous, but intent upon yourself. Don't mothers always love the naughtiest boys best? haven't the worst men always the best wives ? That exemplifies the principle ; there's nothing like a little judicious bother. Miss Seraphina Serena will never change her mind if bothered scientifically." " Perhaps so; but may it not be rather dangerous?" " Dangerous ! not at all ; it's regular practice, I tell you. A few cases may terminate unluckily ; but that must be charged to a bungle in the doctor. Why, properly managed, a courtship may be continued, like a nervous disease, or a suit at law, for twenty years, and be as good|.at the close as it was at the beginning. In nine cases out of ten, you must either perplex or be perplexed ; so you had better take the sure course, and play the game yourself. Them's my sentiments, Mr. Speaker," and Michael Mitts caused his lithe proboscis to oscillate like a rudder, as he concluded his oracular speech, and puckered his mouth to the whistling place to show thai 24 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. he had " shut up" for the present. He then walked slowly away, leaving Pumpilion with a " new wrin- kle." Seraphina Serena, being both fiery and coquettish withal, Pumpilion, under the direction of his preceptor, tried the " Mitts system of wooing," and although it gave rise to frequent explosions, yet the quarrels, whether owing to the correctness of the system or not, were pro- ductive of no lasting evil. Michael Mitts twirled his nose and twisted his mouth in triumph at the wedding , and set it down as an axiom that there is nothing like a little insecurity for rendering parties firm in completing a bargain ; that, had it not been for practising the system, Pumpilion might have become alarmed at the indications of the "latent spirit;" and that, had it not been for the practice of the system, Seraphina's fancy might have strayed. *♦ I'm an experimenter in mental operations, and there^s no lack of subjects," said Mitts to himself; "one fact being established, the Pumpilions now present a new aspect." There is, however, all the difference in the world between carrying on warfare where you may advance and retire at pleasure, and in prosecuting it in situations which admit of no retreat. Partisan hostilities are one thing, and regular warfare is another. Pumpilion was very well as a guerilla, but his genius in that respect was unavailing when the nature of the campaign did not admit of his making an occasional demonstration, and of evading the immediate consequences by a retreat. In a very few weeks, he was reduced to the ranks as " only my husband," and, although no direct order of the day was read to that efi*ect, he was " respected accordingly." Before that retrograde promotion took place, Pedrige 'tis only my husband. 25 Pumpilion cultivated his hair, and encouraged its sneaking inclination to curl until it wooUied up quite fiercely ; but afterwards his locks became broken-heartedly pendent, and straight with the weight of care, while his whiskers hung back as if asking counsel and comfort from his ears. He twiddled his thumbs with a slow rotary motion as he sat, and he carried his hands clasped behind him as he walked, thus intimating that he couldn't help it, and that he didn't mean to try. For the same reason, he never buttoned his coat, and wore no straps to the feet of his trousers ; both of which seemed too energeti- cally resolute for ** only my husband.' Even his hat, as it sat on the back part of his head, looked as if Mrs. Pumpilion had put it on for him, (no one but the wearer can put on a hat so that it will sit naturally,) and as if he had not nerve enough even to shake it down to its charac- teristic place and physiognomical expression. His per- sonnel loudly proclaimed that the Mitts method in matri- mony had been a failure, and that the Queen had given the King a check-mate. Mrs. Pumpilion had been triumphant in acting upon the advice of her friend, the widow, who, having the advantage of Mitts in combining experience with theory, understood the art of breaking husbands a merveille. *' My dear madam," said Mrs. Margery Daw, "you have plenty of spirit ; but spirit is nothing without stead- iness and perseverance. In the establishment of author- ity a»d in the assertion of one's rights, any intermission before success is complete requires us to begin again. If your talent leads you to the weeping method of soft- ening your husband's heart, you will find that if you give him a shower now and a shower then, he will harden in the intervals between the rain ; while a good sullen cr.v of twentv-four hours' length may prevent any necessity 26 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. for another. If, on the contrary, you have genius for Ihe tempestuous, continued thunder and lightning for the same length of time is irresistible. Gentlemen are great swaggerers, if not impressively dealt with and early taught to know their places. They are much like Frisk," continued the widow, addressing her lap-dog. " If they bark, and you draw back frightened, they are sure to bite ; stamp your foot, and they soon learn to run into a corner. Don't they, Frisky dear ?'* " Ya-p !'* responded the dog : and Mrs. Pumpilion, tired of control, took the concurrent advice. ^^ ^" ^^ ^p ^^ " To-morrow," said Pumpilion, carelessly and with an of-course-ish air, as he returned to tea from a stroll with his friend Michael Mitts, who had just been urging upon him the propriety of continuing the Mitts method after marriage, " to-morrow, my love, I leave town for a week to try a little trout fishing in the mountains.** "Mr. Pumpilion!'* ejaculated the lady, in an awful tone, as she suddenly faced him. " Fishing?'* " Y-e-e-yes,** replied Pumpilion, somewhat discom posed. " Then I shall go with you, Mr. Pumpilion,** said the lady, as she emphatically split a muffin. " Quite onpossible," returned Pumpilion, with decisive stress upon the first syllable ; " it's a buck party, if I may use the expression — a buck party entirely ; — there*s Mike Mitts, funny Joe Mungoozle — son 5f old Mungoozle's, — Tommy Titcomb, and myself. We intend having a rough and tumble among the hills to beneficial- ise our wholesomes, as funny Joe Mungoozle has it.** " Funny Joe Mungoozle is not a fit companion for any married man, Mr. Pumpilion ; and it's easy to see, by your sliding bacK among the dissolute friends and disso- *TIS ONLY MY HUSBAND. 27 lute practices of your bachelorship, Mr. Pumpilion — by your wish to associate with sneering and depraved Mun- goozles, Mitts's, and Titcombs, Mr. Pumpilion, that the society of your poor wife is losing its attractions," and Mrs. Pumpilion sobbed convulsively at the thought. " I have given my word to go a fishing," replied Pedrigo, rather ruefully, *' and a fishing I must go. What would Mungoozle say ? — why, he would have a song about it, and sing it at the * free and easies.' " " What matter ? let him say — let him sing. But it's not my observations — it's those of funny Joe Mungoozle that you care for — the affections of the ' free and easy* carousers that you are afraid of losing." "Mungoozle is a very particular friend of mine, Sera- phina," replied Pedrigo, rather nettled. " We're going a fishing — that's flat !" *' Without me ?" " Without you, — it being a buck party, without excep tion." Mrs. Pumpilion gave a shriek, and falling back, threw out her arms fitfully — the tea-pot went by the board, as she made the tragic movement. " Wretched, unhappy woman !" gasped Mrs. Pumpi- lion, speaking of herself. Pedrigo did not respond to the declaration, but alter- nately eyed the fragments of the tea-pot and the un- touched muffin which remained on his plate. The coup had not been without its effect ; but still he faintly whis- pered, " Funny Joe Mungoozle, and going a fishing." " It's clear you wish to kill me — to break my heart,' muttered the lady in a spasmodic manner. *' 'Pon my soul, I don't — Pm only going a fishing." " I shall go distracted !" screamed Mrs. Pumpilion, suiting the action to the M^ord, and springing to her feet 28 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. in such a way as to upset the table, and roll its contents into Pedrigo's lap, who scrambled from the debris, as his wife, with the air of the Pythoness, swept rapidly round the room, whirling the ornaments to the floor, and indulging in the grand rigadoon upon their sad remains. "You no longer love me, Pedrigo ; and without your love what is life ? What is this, or this, or this," con- tinued she, a crash following every word, " without mu- tual affection ? — Going a fishing !" " I don't know that I am," whined Pumpilion. "Per- haps it will rain to-morrow." Now it so happened that there were no clouds visible on the occasion, except in the domestic atmosphere ; but, the rain was adroitly thrown in as a white flag, indica- tive of a wish to open a negotiation and come to terms, Mrs. Pumpilion, however, understood the art of war bet- ter than to treat with rebels with arms in their hands. Her military genius, no longer "latent," whispered her to persevere until she obtained a surrender at discretion. " Ah, Pedrigo, you only say that to deceive your heart-broken wife. You intend to slip away — you and your Mungoozles — to pass your hours in roaring ini- quity, instead of enj eying the calm sunshine of domestic peace, and the gentle delights of fireside felicity. They are too tame, too flat, too insipid for a depraved taste. ThatI should ever live to see the day !" and she relapsed into the intense style by way of a specimen of calm de- light. Mr. and Mrs. Pumpilion retired for the night at an early hour ; but until the dawn of day, the words of re- proach, now passionate, now pathetic, ceased not; and in the very gray of the morning, Mrs. P. marched down stairs en dishabille, still repeating ejaculations about the Mungoozle fishing party. What happened below is not *TIS ONLY MV HUSBAND. 2d precisely ascertained ; but there was a terrible turmoil in the kitchen, it being perfectly clear a whole " kettle of ash" was in preparation, that Pedrigo might not have the trouble of going to the mountains on a piscatorial expe- dition. He remained seated on the side of the bed, like Ma rius upon the ruins of Carthage, meditating upon the situation of affairs, and balancing between a surrender to petticoat government and his dread of Mongoozle's song at the " free and easies." At length he slipped down. Mrs. Pumpilion sat glooming at the parlour window. Pedrigo tried to read the " Saturday News" upside down. " Good morning, Mr. Pumpilion ! Going a fishing, Mr. Pumpilion I Mike Mitts, funny Joe Mungoozle, and Tommy Titcomb must be waiting for you— you know,' continued she with a mocking smile, «' you're to go this morning to the mountains on a rough and tumble for the benefit of your wholesomes. The elegance of the^phra- seology is quite in character with the whole aflfair." Pedrigo was tired out; Mrs. Margery Daw's perseve- rance prescription had been too much for the Mitts method; the widow had overmatched the bachelor. " No, Seraphina my dearest, Pm not going a fishing, if you don't desire it, and I see you don't." Not a word about its being likely to rain— the surren der was unconditional. *' But," added Pedrigo, *' I should like to have a -ittle oreakfast." Mrs. Pumpilion was determined to clinch the nail. " There's to be no breakfast here— I've been talkinp to Sally and Tommy in the kitchen, and 1 verily believe the whole world's in a plot against me. They're gone Mr. Pumpilion — gone a fishing, perhaps." 30 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. The battle was over — the victory was won — the nail was clinched. Tealess, sleepless, breakfastless, what could Pedrigo do but sue for mercy, and abandon a con- test waged against such hopeless odds ? The supplies being cut off, the siege-worn garrison must surrender. After hours of solicitation, the kiss of amity was reluct- antly accorded; on condition, however, that "funny Joe Mungoozle" and the rest of the fishing party should be given up, and that he, Pedrigo, for the future should refrain from associating with bachelors and widowers, both of whom she tabooed, and consort with none but staid married men. From this moment the individuality of that once free agent, Pedrigo Pumpilion, was sunk into *' only my hus- band" — the humblest of all humble animals. He fetches and carries, goes errands, and lugs band-boxes and bun- dles ; he walks the little Pumpilions up and down the room when they squall o' nights, and he never comes in when any of his wife's distinguished friends call to visit her. In truth, Pedrigo is not always in a presentable condition ; for as Mrs. Pumpilion is de facto treasurer, he is kept upon rather short allowance, her wants being paramount and proportioned to the dignity of head of the family. But, although he is now dutiful enough, he at first ventured once or twice to be refractory. These symptoms of insubordination, however, were soon quelled — for Mrs. Pumpilion, with a significant glance, mquired, — "^re you going a fishing again, my dear 9^'' (31 ) ORSON DABBS, THE HITTITE It has been said, and truly, that it takes all sorts of people to make a world. He who complains of the lights and shades of character which are eternally flitting be- fore him, and of the diversity of opposing interests which at times cross his path, has but an illiberal, con- tracted view of the subject; and though the Emperor Charles the Fifth, in his retirement at Estremadura, had some reason for being a little annoyed when he could not cause two or three score of watches to go together, yet he was wrong in sighing over his previous ineff*ectual efforts to make men think alike. It is, to speak figura- tively, the clashing which constitutes the music. The harmony of the whole movement is produced by the fusion into each other of an infinite variety of petty dis- cords ; as a glass of punch depends for its excellence upon the skilful commingling of opposing flavours and antago- nismg materials. Were the passengers in a wherry to be of one mind, they would probably all sit upon the same side, and hence, naturally, pay a visit to the Davy Jones of the river ; and if all the men of a nation thought alike, it is perfectly evident that the ship of state must lose her trim. The system of checks and balances per- vades both the moral and the physical world, and without it, affairs would soon hasten to their end. It is, therefore, clear that we must have all sorts of people, — some to pre- 'cnt stagnation, and others to act as ballast to an excess 3 32 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. of animation. The steam engines of humanity must have their breaks and their safety valves, and the dead weights of society require the whip and the spur. Orson Dabbs certainly is entitled to a place among tne stimulants of the world, and it is probable that in exer- cising his impulses, he produces beneficial effects. But it would puzzle a philosopher to designate the wholesome results which follow from his turbulent movements, or to show, either by synthesis or analysis, wherein he is a good. At all events, Orson Dabbs has the reputation of being a troublesome fellow in the circles upon which he inflicts himself; and, judging from the evidence eli- cited upon the subject, there is little reason to doubt the fact. He is dogmatical, and to a certain extent fond of argument ; but when a few sharp words will not make converts, he abandons those windy weapons with con- tempt, and has recourse to more forcible persuaders — a pair of fists, each of which looks like a shoulder of mutton. •* If people are so obstinate that they won't, or so stupid that they can't understand you," observed Dabbs, in one of his confidential moments — for Orson Dabbs will sometimes unbend, and suffer those abstruse maxims which govern his conduct to escape — " if either for one reason or the other," continued he, with that impressive iteration which at once gives time to collect and marshal one's thoughts, and lets the listener know that something of moment is coming — *'if they won't be convinced — easily and genteelly convinced — you must knock it into 'em short hand ; if they can't comprehend, neither by due coarse of mail, nor yet by express, you must make 'em understand by telegraph. That's the way I learnt ciphering at school, and manners and genteel behaviour at home. All I know was walloped into me. I took ORSON DABBS, THE HITTITE. 33 larniii' through the skin, and sometimes they made a good many holes to get it in." *' And," timidly interjected an humble admirer of this great man, hazarding a joke, with an insinuating smile ; *' and I s'pose you're so wise now because the hide growed over it, and the larnin' couldn't get out, like In- gey ink in a sailor's arm." *' Jeames," replied Orson Dabbs, relaxing into a grim smile, like that of the griffin face of a knocker, and shaking his "bunch of fives" sportively, as one snaps an unloaded gun — Napoleon tweaked the ears of his cour- tiers — why should not Dabbs shake his fist at his satel- lites ? — " Jeames, if you don't bequit poking fun at me, I'll break your mouth, Jeames, as sure as you sit there. But, to talk sensible, walloping is the only way — it's a panacea for differences of opinion. You'll fmd it in his- tory books, that one nation teaches another whatitdidn t know before by walloping it ; that's the method of civil- izing savages — the Romans put the whole world to rights that way ; and what's right on the big figger must be right on the small scale. In short, there's nothing like walloping for taking the conceit out of fellows who think they know more than their betters. Put it to 'em strong, and make 'em see out of their eyes." Orson Dabbs acts up to these golden maxims. Seeing that, from disputes between dogs up to quarrels between nations, fighting is the grand umpire and regulator, he resolves all power into that of the fist, — treating bribery, reason, and persuasion as the means only of those unfortunate individuals to whom nature has denied the stronger attributes of humanity. Nay, he even turns up his nose at betting as a means of discovering truth. Instead of stumping an antagonist by launching out his cash, Dabbs shakes a portentous fist under his nose, and 133 34 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. the affair is settled ; the recusant must either knock under or be knocked down, which, according to our hero, is all the same in Dutch. In this way, when politics ran high, he used to decide who was to be elected to any specified office ; and he has often boasted that he once, in less than five minutes too, scared a man into giving the Dabbs candidate a large majority, when the unfortunate stranger did not at first believe that the said candidate would be elected at all. Some people believe that the fist is the poorest of arguments, and that it, therefore, should be the last. Here they are completely at issue with Dabbs, and it is well that they do not fall in his way, or he would soon show them the difference. With him it is what action was to the ancient orator, the first, the middle, and the last. Being himself, in a great measure, fist proof, he is very successful in the good work of proselytism, and has quite a reputation as a straightforward reasoner and a forcible dialectitian. Misfortunes, however, will sometimes happen to the most successful. The loftiest nose may be brought to the grindstone, and the most scornful dog may be obliged to lunch upon dirty pudding. Who can control his fate ? One night Mr. Dabbs came home from his "loafing" place — for he "loafs" of an evening, like the generality of people — that being the most popular and the cheapest amusement extant ; and, from the way he blurted open the door of the Goose and Gridiron, where he resides, and from the more unequivocal manner in which he slam- med it after him, no doubt existed in the minds of his fellow boarders that the well of his good spirits had been *' riled ;" or, in more familiar phrase, that he was " spotty on the back." His hat was pitched forward, with a bloodthirsty, piratical rakishness, and almost ORSON DABBS, THE HITTITE 35 covered his eyes, which gleamed like ignited charcoal under a jeweller's blowpipe. His cheeks were flushed with an angry spot, and his nose — always a quarrelsome pug — curled more fiercely upward, as if the demon wrath had turned archer, and was using it for a bow to draw an arrow to its head. His mouth had set in opposition to his nasal promontory, and savagely curved downward, like a half-moon battery. Dabbs was decidedly out of sorts — perhaps beery, as well as wolfy ; in short, in that unenviable state in which a man feels disposed to divide himself, and go to buffets — to kick himself with his own foot — to beat himself with his own fist, and to throw his own dinner out of the window. The company were assembled round the fire to dis- cuss politics, literature, men, and things. Dabbs looked not at them, but, slinging Tommy Timid's bull terrier Oseola out of the arm-chair in the corner, by the small stump of a tail which fashion and the hatchet had left the animal, he sat himself moodily down, with a force that made the timbers creak. 'The conversation was turning upon a recent brilliant display of the aurora borealis^ whv3h the more philosopliical of the party supposed to arise from the north pole having become red-hot for want of grease ; while they all joined in deriding the po- pular fallacy that it was caused by the high price of flour. "Humph!" said Dabbs, with a grunt, "any fool might know that it was a sign of war." " War I" ejaculated the party ; " oh, your granny !" "Yes, war !" roared Dabbs, kicking the bull terrier Oseola in the ribs, and striking the table a tremendous blow with his fist, as, with clenched teeth and out-poked head, he repeated, "War! war! war!" Now the Goose and Gridiron fraternity set up for knowing geniuses, and will not publicly acknowledge 36 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. faitli in the doctrines on meteorology broached by their grandmothers, wliatever they may tliink in private. So they quietly remarked, confiding in their numbers against the Orson Dabbs method of conversion, that the aurora was not a sign of war, but an evidence of friction and of no grease on the axle of the w^orld. " That's a lie !" shouted Dabbs ; ♦■* my story's the true one, for I read it in an almanac ; and to prove it true, I'll lick anybody here that don't believe it, in two cracks of a cow's thumb. Yes," added he, in reply to the looks bent upon him ; " I'll not only wallop them that don't believe it, but I'll wallop you all, whether you do or not !" This, however, was a stretch of benevolence to which the company were not prepared to submit. As Dabbs squared off to proceed secundum artem, according to the approved method of the schools, the watchful astrologer might have seen his star grow pale. He had reached his Waterloo — that winter night was his 18th of June. He fell, as many have fallen before him, by that implicit reliance on his own powers w^hich made him forgetful of the risk of encountering the long odds. The threat was too comprehensive, and the attempt at execution was a failure. The company cuffed him heartily, and in the fray the bull terrier Oseola vented its cherished wrath by biting a piece out of the fleshiest portion of his frame. Dabbs was ousted by a summary process, but his heart did not fail him. He thundered at the door, sometimes with his fists, and again Avith whatever missiles were within reach. The barking of the dog and the laughter from within, as was once remarked of certain military heroes, did not " intimate him in the least, U only estimated him." The noise at last became so great that a watchman ORSON DABB9, THE HITTITE. 37 finally summoned up resolution enough to come near, and to take Dabbs by the arm. *' Let go, watchy !— let go, my cauliflower ! Your cocoa is very near a sledge-hammer. If it isn't hard, it may get cracked." "Pooh! pooh! don't be onasy, my darlint— my cocoa is a corporation cocoa-it belongs to the city, and they'll get me a new one. Besides, my jewel, there j^ two cocoas standing here, you know. Don't be onasy— it mayn't be mine that will get cracked." "I ain't onasy," said Dabbs, bitterly, as he turned fiercely round. " I ain't onasy. I only want to caution you, or I'll upset your apple cart, and spill your peaches." " I'm not in the wegetable way, my own-self, Mr Horse-radish. You must make less noise." " Now, look here— look at me well," said Dabbs, strik- ing his fist hard upon his own bosom ; *' I'm a real nine foot breast of a fellow— stub twisted and made of horse- shoe nails— the rest of me is cast iron with steel springs. I'll stave my fist right through you, and carry you on my elbow, as easily as if you were an empty market basket— I will— bile me up for soap if I don't!" " Ah, indeed ! why, you must be a real Calcutta-from- Canting, warranted not to cut in the eye. Snakes is no touch to you ; but I'm sorry to say you must knucde down close. You must surrender ; there's no help for it, — none in the world." " Square yourself then, for I'm coming ! Don't you hear the clockvorks !" exclaimed Dabbs, as he shook oflT the grip of the officer, and struck an attitude. He stood beautifully ; feet well set ; guard well up , admirable science, yet fearful to look upon. Like the Adriatic, Dabbs was " lovelily dreadful" on this excitmg occasion. But when " Greek meets Greek," fierce looks 38 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. and appalling circumstances amount to nothing. The opponent of our hero, after regarding him coolly for a moment, whistled with great contempt, and with provok- ing composure, beat down his guard with a smart blow from a heavy mace, saying, — " 'Taint no use, no how — you're all used up for bait." *' Ouch !" shrieked Dabbs ; " my eye, how it hurts ! Don't hit me again. Ah, good man, but you're a bruiser. One, two, three, from you would make a person believe any thing, even if he was sure it wasn't true." "Very well," remarked the macerator, "all I want of you is to behave nice and genteel, and believe you're going to the watch'us, for it's true; and if you don't believe it yet, why (shaking his mace) I shall feel obligated to conwince you again." As this was arguing with him after his own method, and as Dabbs had distinct impressions of the force of the reasoning, he shrugged his shoulders, and then rubbing his arms, muttered, " Enough said." He trotted off quietly for the first time in his life. Since the affair and its consequences have passed away, he has been somewhat chary of entering into the field of argument, and particularly careful not to drink too much cold water, for fear the bull terrier before referred to was mad, and dreading hydrophobic convulsions. (39) ROCKY SMALT; OR, THE DANGERS OF IMITATION Man is an imitative animal, and so strong is the instinctive feeling to follow in the footsteps of others, that he who is so fortunate as to strike out a new path must travel rapidly, if he would avoid being run down by- imitators, and preserve the merit of originality. If his discovery be a good one, the ^^servum pecus^^ will sweep toward it like an avalanche ; and so quick will be their motion, that the daring spirit who first had the self- reliance to turn from the beaten track, is in danger of being lost among the crowd, and of having his claim to the honours of a discoverer doubted and derided. Turn where you will, the imitative propensity is to be found busily at work ; its votaries clustering round the falcon to obtain a portion of the quarry which the nobler bird has stricken ; and perhaps, like Sir John FalstafT, to deal the prize a " new wound in the thigh," and falsely claim the wreath of victory. In the useful arts, there are thousands of instances in which the real dis- coverer has been thrust aside to give place to the imita- tor ; and in every other branch in which human ingenu ity has been exercised, if the flock of copyists do not obtain the patent right of fame, they soon, where it is practicable, wear out the novelty, and measurably deprive 40 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. the inventor of the consideration to which he is entitled. In the apportionment of applause, the praise too often depends upon which is first seen, the statue or the cast — although the one be marble, and the other plaster. In business, no one can hope to recommend his wares to patronage in a new and taking way, no matter what outlay of thought has been required for its invention, without finding multitudes prompt in the adoption of the same device. He who travels by a fresh and ver- dant path in literature, and is successful, soon hears the murmurs of a pursuing troop, and has his by-way con- verted into a dusty turnpike, macadamized on the prin- ciple of " writing made easy ;" while, on the stage, the drama groans with great ones at second-hand. The illustrious in tragedy can designate an army of those, who, unable to retail their beauties, strive for renown by exaggerating their defects ; and Thalia has even seen her female aids cut off their flowing locks, and teach them- selves to wriggle, because she who was in fashion wore a crop, and had adopted a gait after her own fancy. It is to this principle that a professional look is attri- butable. In striving to emulate the excellence of another, the student thinks he has made an important step if he can catch the air, manner, and tone of his model ; and believes that he is in a fair way to acquire equal wisdom, if he can assume the same expression of the face, and compass the same " hang of the nether lip." We have seen a pupil endeavouring to help himself onward in the race for distinction by wearing a coat similar in cut and colour to that wherewith his preceptor indued himself; and we remember the time when whole classes at a certain eastern university became a regiment of ugly Dromios, lengthening their visages, and smoothing their hair down to their eyes, for no other reason than ROCKY SMALT 41 that an eminent and popular professor chose to display his frontispiece after that fashion — and that, as they emulated his literary abilities, they, therefore, thought it advantageous to imitate his personal defects. When Byron's fame was in the zenith, poetic scribblers dealt liberally in shirt collar, and sported an expanse of neck ; and when Waterloo heroes were the wonders of the hour, every town in England could show its limpers and hobblers, who, innocent of war, would fain have passed for men damaged by the French. On similar grounds, humps, squints, impediments of speech, mouths awry, and limbs distorted, have been the rage. How then could Orson Dabbs, the Hittite, admired and peculiar as he was, both for his ways and for his opinions, hope to escape imitation ? If he entertained such a belief, it was folly ; and if he dreamed that he could so thump the world as to preserve his originality, it was a mere delusion. Among the many who fre- quented the Goose and Gridiron, where Orson re- sided, was one Rocky Smalt, whose early admiration for the great one it is beyond the power of words to utter, though subsequent events converted that admira- tion into hostility. Rocky Smalt had long listened with delight to Orson's lectures upon the best method of removing difficulties, which, according to him, is by thumping them down, as a paviour smooths the streets ; and as Orson descanted, and sliook his fists in exempli- fication of the text, the soul of Rocky, like a bean in a bottle, swelled within him to put these sublime doctrines in practice. Now, it unluckily happens that Rocky Smalt is a very little man — one of the feather weights — which militates somewhat against the gratification of his pugi- listic desires, insomuch that if he " squares ofl*" at a big 42 CHARCOAL SKETCHES fellow, he is obliged, in dealing a facer, to hit his antago- nist on the knee; and a blow given there, everybody knows, neither "bungs a peeper'* nor " taps a smeller." But Rocky, being to a certain degree aware of his gla- diatorial deficiencies, is rather theoretical than practical ; that is, he talks much more than he battles. His narra- tives, difi'ering from himself, are colossal ; and as Colos- sus stood with one foot on one side, and with the other foot on the other side, so do Rocky's speeches refer to the past and to the future — to what he has done, and to what he means to do. He is now retrospective, and again prospective, in talking of personal contention, his combats never being present, which is by far the most agreeable method of obtaining reputation, as we tliereby avoid the inconvenience of pricking our fingers in gather- ing glory. Rocky, in copying Dabbs as to his belligerent prmci- ples, is likewise careful to do the same, as far as it is possible, in relation to personal appearance. He is, therefore, a pocket Dabbs — a miniature Orson. He cultivates whiskers to the apex of the chin ; and although they are not very luxuriant, they make up in length what they want in thickness. He cocks his hat fiercely, rolls in his gait, and, with doubled fists, carries his arms in the muscular curve, elbows pointing outward, and each arm forming the segment of a circle. He slams doors after him, kicks little dogs, and swears at little boys, as Orson does. If any one runs against him, he waits until the oflender is out of hearing, and then denounces him in the most energetic expletives belong- ing to the language, and is altogether a vinaigrette of wrath. It is the combat only that bothers Smalt ; if it were not for that link in the chain of progression from defiance to victory, he would indeed be a most truculent ROCKY SMALT. 43 hero, and deserve a salary from all the aose menders about town, whether natural bone-setters or gristle-tinkers by commission — were it not for that, Larrey's Military Surgery would be in continual demand, as a guide to the cure of contusions, and so great would be the application of oysters to the eye, that there would be a scarcity of shell-fish. Sometimes, however. Smalt's flaming ardour precipi- tates him into a quarrel ; but, even then, he manages matt .rs very adroitly, by selecting the largest individual of the opposite faction for his antagonist. " Come on !" shrieks Smalt, in such an emergency ; *' come on ! I'll lick any thing near my own weight. I'll chaw up any indewidooal that's fairly my match — yes, and give him ten pounds. 1 ain't petickelar, when it's a matter of accommodation. Whe-e-w ! fire away !" But, as Rocky's weight is just ninety-four pounds, counting boots, hat, dead-latch key, pennies, fips, clothes, and a little bit of cavendish, he is certain to escape ; for even the most valiant may be excused from encountering the long odds in a pitched battle, although he may some- times run against them in a crowded chance-medley. Rocky, therefore, puts on his coat again, puffing and blowing like a porpoise, as he walks vapouring about, and repeating with an occasional attitude a la Orson Dabbs, *'Any thing in reason — and a little chucked in to accommo- date—when I'm wound up, it 'most takes a stone wall to stop me, for I go right through the timber — that's me 1" Yet these happy days of theoretical championship at length were clouded. Science avails nothing against love : Dan Cupid laughs at sparring, and beats down the most perfect guard. It so fell out that Orson Dabbs and Rocky Smalt both were smitten with the tender passion at the same time, the complaint perhaps being epidemic a CHARCOAL SKETCHES. at the season. This, however, though individually troublesome, as the disorder is understood to be a sharp one, would not have been productive of discord between them, had it not unluckily happened that they became enamoured of the same "fair damosel." Two warriors and but one lady ! — not one lady per piece, to speak commercially, but one lady per pair. This was embar- rassing — this was dangerous. Miss Araminta Stycke— or Miss Mint Stycke, as she was sometimes more sweetly termed — could not, according to legal enactments, marry both the gentlemen in question ; and as each was deter- mined to have her entire, the situation was decidedly per- plexing, essentially bothering, and effectively dramatic, which, however amusing to the looker-on, is the ne plus ultra of discomfort to those who form the tableau. Miss Araminta could doubtless have been very " happy with either, were t'other dear charmer away ;" but this was out of the question ; for, when Dabbs on one side stuck to Stycke, Smalt on the other side just as assiduously stuck to Stycke, and both stickled stoutly for her smiles. " My dear Mint Stycke," said Rocky Smalt, at a tea party, taking hold of a dish of plums nicely done in mo- lasses — " my dear Mint Stycke, allow me to help you to a small few of the goodies." " Minty, my darling I" observed Dabbs, who sat on her left hand. Rocky being on the right — " Minty my darling," repeated Dabbs, with that dashing familiarity so becoming in a majestic personage, as he stretched forth his hand, and likewise grasped the dish of plums, " I insist upon helping you myself." The consequence was an illustration of the embarras of having two lovers on the ground at the same time. The plums were spilt in such a way as to render Misf ROCKY SMALT. 45 Stycke sweeter that ever, by giving " sweets to the sweet;" but the young lady was by no means so prctiy to look at as she had been before the ceremony. "Of the twain, she most affected" Dabbs, of which Rocky was not a little jealous. *' Minty, I don't care for Dabbs," said Rocky, in heroic tones ; " big as he is, if he comes here too often a crossing me, he'll ketch it. I'll thump him, Minty, I will — feed me on hay, if I don't." Minty laughed, and well she might, for just then Orson arrived, and, walking into the room, scowled fiercely at Smalt, who suddenly remembered " he had to go some- wheres, and promised to be there early — he must go, as it was a'most late now." " He thump me !" said Dabbs, with a supercilious smile, when Minty repeated the threat. " The next time I meet that chap, I'll take my stick and kill it — I'll sqush it with my foot." Unhappily for the serenity of his mind, Rocky Smalt had his ear at the key hole when this awful threat was made, and he quaked to hear it, not doubting that Dabbs would be as good as his word. He, therefore, fled instun- ter, and roamed about like a perturbed spirit; now tra- velling quickly — anon pausing to remember the frightful words, and, as they rushed vividly to mind, he would hop-scotch convulsively and dart off like an arrow, the whole being done in a style similar to that of a fish which has indulged in a frolic upon cocculus indicus. In the course of his eccentric rambles, he stopped in at various places, and, either from that cause, or some other which has not been ascertained, he waxed valiant a little after midnight. But, as his spirits rose, his locomotive pro- pensity appeared to decrease, and he, at length, sat down on a step. t6 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. " So !" soliloquized our hero : " he intends to belt me, does he ? Take a stick — sqush with his foot — and calls me * it' — 'it' right before Minty ! Powers of wengeance, settle on my fist, take aim with my knuckles, and shoot him in the eye ! If I wasn't so tired, and if I hadn't a little touch of my family disorder, I'd start after him. I'd go and dun him for the hiding ; and if he'd only squat, or let me stand on a chair, I'd give him a receipt in full, right in the face, under my own hand and seal. I'd knock him this-er way, and I'd whack him that-er way, till you couldn't tell which end of his head his face was on." Smalt suited the action to the word, and threw out his blows, right and left, with great vigour. Suddenly, however, he felt a heavy hand grasp his shoulder, and give him a severe shake, while a deep gruff voice exclaimed : " Halloo ! what the dense are you about ? You'll tear vour coat." ** Ah !" ejaculated Smalt, with a convulsive start; * oh, don't ! I holler enough !" *' Why, little 'un, you must be cracked, if you flunk out before we begin. Holler enough, indeed ! nobody's guv' you any yet." ** Ah !" gasped Smalt, turning round ; " I took you for Orson Dabbs. I promised, when I cotch'd him, to give him a licking, and I was werry much afeard I'd have to break the peace. Breaking the peace is a werry disagreeable thing fur to do ; but I must — I'm conshensis about it — when I ketches Orson. Somebody ought to tell him to keep out of the way, fur fear I'll have to break the peace." " It wouldn't do to kick up a row — but I'm thinking it would be a little jsiece, if you could break it. I'l/ ROCKY SMALT. 4? carry home all the pieces you break off, in my waist- coat pocket. You're only a pocket piece yourself." " Nobody asked your opinions — go 'way. I've got a job of thinking to do, and I musn'tbe disturbed — talking puts me out. Paddle, steamboat, or " ** Take keer — don't persume," was the impressive reply ; " I'm a 'fishal functionary out a ketching of dogs. You musn't cut up because it's night. The mayor and the 'squires have gone to bed ; but the law is a thing that never gets asleep. After ten o'clock, the law is a watchman and a dog ketcher — we're the whole law till breakfast's a'most ready." " You only want bristles to be another sort of a whole animal," muttered Smalt. " Whew ! confound your little kerkus, what do you mean? I'd hit you unofficially, if there was any use in pegging at a fly." Smalt began to feel uneasy ; so, taking the hint con- veyed in the word fly, he made a spring as the com- mencement of a retreat from one who talked so fieicely and so disrespectfully. But he had miscalculated his powers. After running a few steps, his apprehensions overthrew him, and his persecutor walking up, said . " Oh ! you stumpy little peace-breaker, I knows whai you have been about — you've been drinking." " You nose it, hey ? — much good may it do you Can't a man wet his whistle without your nosing it?" " No, you can't — it's agin the law, which is very fuK upon this pint." " Pint ! Not the half of it — I haven't got the stowage room." The *' ketcher" laughed, for, notwithstanding their sanguinary profession, ketchers, like Lord Norbury, are Baid to love a joke, and to indulge in merriment, when 48 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. ever the boys are not near. He therefore picked up Smalt, ana placing him upon his knee, remarked as follows : " You're a clever enough kind of little feller, sonny ; but you ain't been eddicated to the law as I have ; so I'll give you a lecture. Justice vinks at vot it can't see, and lets them off vot it can't ketch. When you want to break It, you must dodge. You may do what you like in your own house, and the law don't know nothing about the matter. But never go thumping and bumping about the streets, when you are primed and snapped. That's intemperance, and the other is temperance. But now you come under the muzzle of the ordinance — you're a loafer." " Now, look here — I'll tell you the truth. Orson Dabbs swears he'll belt me — yes, he calls me * it' — he said he'd sqush me with his foot — he'd take a stick and kill ' it' — me, I mean. What am I to do ? — there'll be a tight, and Dabbs will get hurt." " He can't do what he says — the law declares he musn't ; and if he does, it isn't any great matter — he'll be put in limbo, you know." This, however, was a species of comfort which had very little effect upon Smalt. He cared nothing about what might be done with Orson Dabbs after Orson had done for him. His new friend, however, proved, as Smalt classically remarked, to be like a singed cat, much better than he looked, for he conducted the Lilliputian hero home, and, bundling him into the entry, left him there in comfort Rocky afterwards removed to another part of the town, for the purpose of keeping clear of his enemy, and, with many struggles, yielded the palm in relation to Miss Araminta Stycke, who soon became Mrs. Orson Dabbs ROCKY SMALT. 49 AftPr this event, Rocky Smalt, who is not above the useful employment of gathering a little wisdom from experience, changed his system, and now speaks belli- gerently only in reference to the past, his gasconading stories invariably beginning, "A few years age, when I was a fighting carackter." 1S4 (50) UNDEVELOPED GENIUS. A PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF P. PILGARLIC* PIGWIGGEN, ESQ. The world has heard much of unwritten music, and more of unpaid debts ; a brace of unsubstantialities, in which very little faith is reposed. The minor poets have twangled their lyres about the one, until the sound has grown wearisome, and UDtil, for the sake of peace and quietness, we heartily wish that unwritten music were fairly written down, and published in Willig's or Blake's best style, even at the risk of hearing it reverberate from every piano in the city ; while iron-visaged creditors^ all creditors are of course hard, both in face and in heart, or they would not ask for their money — have chattered of unpaid debts, ever since the flood, with a wet finger, was uncivil enough to wipe out pre-existing scores, and extend to each skulking debtor the *' benefit of the act." But undeveloped genius, which is, in fact, itself unwritten music, and is very closely allied to unpaid debts, has, as yet, neither poet, trumpeter, nor biographer Gray, indeed, hinted at it in speaking of " village Hamp- dens," " mute inglorious Miltons," and " Cromwelis guiltless," which showed him to be man of some dis- cernment, and possessed of inklings of the truth. But the general science of mental geology, and through that, the equally important details of mental mineralogy and UNDEVELOPED GENIUS. 51 mental metallurgy, to ascertain the unseen substratum of intellect, and to determine its innate wealth, are as yet unborn ; or, if phrenology be admitted as a branch of these sciences, are still in uncertain infancy. Unde- veloped genius, therefore, is still undeveloped, and is likely to remain so, unless this treatise should awaken some capable and intrepid spirit to prosecute an investi- gation at once so momentous and so interesting. If not, much of it will pass through the world undiscovered and unsuspected ; while the small remainder can manifest itself in no other way than by the aid of a convulsion, turning its possessor inside out like a glove ; a method, which the earth itself was ultimately compelled to adopt, that stupid man might be made to see what treasures are to be had for the digging. There are many reasons why genius so often remains invisible. The owner is frequently unconscious of the jewel in his possession, and is indebted to chance for the discovery. Of this, Patrick Henry was a striking instance. After he had failed as a shopkeeper, and was compelled to " hoe corn and dig potatoes,'* alone on his little farm, to obtain a meagre subsistence for his family, he little dreamed that he had that within, which would enable him to shake the throne of a distant tyrant, and nerve the arm of struggling patriots. Sometimes, how- ever, the possessor is conscious of his gift, but it is to him as the celebrated anchor was to the Dutchman ; he can neither use nor exhibit it. The illustrious Thomas Erskine, in his first attempt at the bar, made so signal a failure as to elicit the pity of the good natured, and the scorn and contempt of the less feeling part of the auditory. Nothing daunted, however, for he felt undeveloped genius strong within him, he left the court; muttering, with more profanity than was proper, but with much 52 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. truth, " By ! it is in me, and it shall come out!" He was right; it was in him ; he did get it out, and rose to be Lord Chancellor of England. But there are men less fortunate ; as gifted as Erskine, though perhaps in a different way, they swear frequently, as he did, but they cannot get their genius out. They feel it, like a rat in a cage, beating against their barring ribs, in a vain struggle to escape ; and thus, with the materials for building a reputation, and standing high among the sons of song and eloquence, they pass their lives in obscurity, regarded by the few who are aware of their existence, as simpletons — fellows sent upon the stage solely to fill up the grouping, to applaud their superiors, to eat, sleep, and die. P. PiLGARLicK PiGwiGGEN, Esq., as hc loves to be styled, is one of these unfortunate undeveloped gentle- men about town. The arrangement of his name shows him to be no common man. Peter P. Pigwiggen would be nothing, except a hailing title to call him to dinner, or to insure the safe arrival of dunning letters and tailors' bills. There is as little character about it as about the word Towser, the individuality of which has been lost by indiscriminate application. To all intents and pur- poses, he might just as well be addressed as " You Pete Pigwiggen," after the tender maternal fashion, in which, in his youthful days, he was required to quit dabbling in tl»e gutter, to come home and be spanked. But UNDEVELOPED GENIUS. 53 — the aristocracy of birth and genius is all about it. The very letters seem tasselled and fringed with the cobwebs of antiquity. The flesh creeps with awe at the sound, and the atmosphere undergoes a sensible change, as at the rarefying approach of a supernatural being. It pene- trates the hearer at each perspiratory pore. The drop- ping of the antepenultimate in a man's name, and the substitution of an initial therefor, has an influence which cannot be defined — an influence peculiarly strong in the case of P. Pilgarlick Pigwiggen — the influence of unde- veloped genius — analogous to that which bent the hazel rod, in the hand of Dousterswivel, in the ruins of St. Ruth, and told of undeveloped water. But to avoid digression, or rather to return from a ram- ble in the fields of nomenclature, P. Pilgarlick Pigwig- gen is an undeveloped genius — a wasted man ; his talents are like money in a strong box, returning no interest. He is, in truth, a species of Byron in the egg : but unable to chip the shell, his genius remains unhatched. The chicken moves and faintly chirps within, but no one sees it, no one heeds it. Peter feels the high aspirations and the mysterious imaginings of poesy circling about the interior of his cranium ; but there they stay. .When he attempts to give them utterance, he finds that nature for- got to bore out the passage which carries thought to the tongue and to the finger ends ; and as art has not yet found out the method of tunnelling or of driving a drift into the brain, to remedy such defects, and act as a gene- ral jail delivery to the prisoners of the mind, his divine conceptions continue pent in their osseous cell. In vain does Pigwiggen sigh for a splitting headache — one that shall ope the sutures, and set his fancies free. In vain does he shave his forehead and turn down his shirt col- lar, in hope of finding the poetic vomitory, and of leaving A i CHARCOAL SKETCHES. it Jear of impediment ; in vain does he drink vast quan- tu«€s of gin to raise the steam so high that it may burst im«igination's boiler, and suffer a few drops of it to esrape ; in vain does he sit up late o' nights, using all the cigars he can lay his hands on, to smoke out the secret. 'Tis useless all. No sooner has he spread the paper, and seized the pen to give bodily shape to airy dreams, than a dull dead blank succeeds. As if a flourish of the quill were the crowing of a " rooster," the dainty Ariels of his imagination vanish. The feather drops from his checked fingers, the paper remains unstained, and P. Pilgarlick Pigwiggen is still an undeveloped genius. Originally a grocer's boy, Peter early felt he had a soul above soap and candles, and he so diligently nou- rished it with his master's sugar, figs, and brandy, that early one morning he was unceremoniously dismissed with something more substantial than a flea in his ear. His subsequent life was passed in various callings ; but call as loudly as they would, our hero paid little attention to their voice. He had an eagle's longings, and with an inclination to stare the sun out of countenance, it was not to be expected that he would stoop to be a barn-yard fowl. Working when he could not help it; at times pursuing check speculations at the theatre doors, by way of turning an honest penny, and now and then gaining entrance by crooked means, to feed his faculties with a view of the performances, he likewise pursued his studies through all the ballads in the market, until qualified to read the pages of Moore and Byron. Glowing with ambition, he sometimes pined to see the poet's corner of our weekly periodicals graced with his effusions. But though murder may out, his nndeveloped genius would not. Execution fell so far UNDEVELOPED GENIUS. 55 short of conception, that his lyrics were invariably rejected. Deep, but unsatisfactory, were the reflections which thence arose in the breast of Pigwiggen. *' How is it," said he — '* how is it I can't level down my expressions to the comprehension of the vulgar, or level up the vulgar to a comprehension of my expres- sions ? How is it I can't get the spigot out, so my verses will run clear ? I know what I mean myself, but nobody else does, and the impudent editors say it's wast- ing room to print what nobody understands. I've plenty of genius — lots of it, for I often want to cut my throat, and would have done it long ago, only it hurts. I'm chock full of genius and running over ; for I hate all sorts of work myself, and all sorts of people mean enough to do it. I hate going to bed, and I hate getting up. My conduct is very eccentric and singular. I have the mise- rable melancholies all the time, and I'm pretty nearly always as cross as thunder, which is a sure sign. Genius is as tender as a skinned cat, and flies into a passion whenever you touch it. When I condescend to unbuzzum myself, for a little sympathy, to folks of ornery intellect — and caparisoned to me, I know very few people that ar'n't ornery as to brains — and pour forth the feelings indigginus to a poetic soul, which is always biling, they ludicrate my sitiation, and say they don't know what the dense I'm driving at. Isn't genius al- ways served o' this fashion in the earth, as Hamlet, the boy after my own heart, says ? And when the slights of the world, and of the printers, set me in a fine frenzy, and my soul swells and swells, till it almost tears the shirt off* my buzzum, and even fractures my dickey — when it expansuates and elevates me above the common herd, they laugh again, and tell me not to be pompious. The 56 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. poor plebinians and worse than Russian scurfs ! — It ia the fate of genius — it is his'n, or rather I should say, her'n — to go through life with little sympathization and less cash. Life's a field of blackberry and raspberry bushes. Mean people squat down and pick the ^uit, no matter how they black their fingers ; while genius, proud and perpendicular, strides fiercely on, and gets nothing but scratches and holes tore in its trousers. These things are the fate of genius, and when you see 'em, there is genius too, although the editors won't pub- lish its articles. These things are its premonitories, its janissaries, its cohorts, and its consorts. " But yet, though in flames in my interiors, I can't get it out. If I catch a subject, while I am looking at it, I can't find words to put it in ; and when I let go, to hunt for words, the subject is ofT like a shot. Sometimes 1 have plenty of words, but then there is either no ideas, or else there is such a waterworks and cataract of them, that when I catch one, the others knock it out of my fingers. My genius is good, but my mind is not suffi- ciently manured by 'ears." Pigwiggen, waiting it may be till sufficiently *' ma- nured" to note his thoughts, was seen one fine morning not long since, at the corner of the street, with a me- lancholy, abstracted air, the general character of his appearance. His garments were of a nisty black, much the worse for wear. His coat was buttoned up to the throat, probably for a reason more cogent than that of showing the moulding of his chest, and a black hand kerchief enveloped his neck. Not a particle of white was to be seen about him ; not that we mean to infer tjiat his " sark" would not have answered to its name, if th^ muster roll of his attire had been called, for we scorn V) speak of a citizen's domestic relations, and, until the UNDEVELOPED GENIUS. 57 cohtiary is proved, we hold it but charity to believe that every man has as many shirts as backs. Peter's cheeks were pale and hollow ; his eyes sunken, and neither joap nor razor had kissed his lips for a week. His hands were in his pockets — they had the accommodation all to themselves — nothing else was there. *'Is your name Peter P. Pigwiggen ?" inquired a man, with a stick, which he grasped in the middle. " My name is P Pilgarlick Pigwiggen, if you please, my good friend," replied our hero, with a flush of indig- nation at being miscalled. *' You'll do," was the nonchalant response ; and " the man with a stick" drew forth a parallelogram of paper, curiously Inscribed with characters, partly written and partly printed, of which the words, " The commonwealth greeting," were strikingly visible ; " you'll do, Mr. P. Pilgarlick Pigwiggen Peter. That's a capias ad respon- denduin, the English of which is, you're cotched because you can't pay ; only they put it in Greek, so's not to hurt a gentleman's feelings, and make him feel flat afore the company. I can't say much for the manners of the big courts, but the way the law's polite and a squire's office is genteel, when the thing is under a hundred dollars, is cautionary." There was little to be said. Peter yielded at or ^e His landlady, with little respect for the incipient Byron, had turned him out that morning, and had likewise sent *' the man with a stick" to arrest the course of undeve- loped genius. Peter walked before, and he of the " taking way" strolled leisurely behind. * * * « * * " It's the fate of genius, squire. The money is owed. ^ut how can I help it? I can't live without eating and 58 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. sleeping If I wasn't to do those functionaries, it would be suicide, severe beyond circumflexion." " Well, you know, you must either pay or go to jail." * Now, squire, as a friend — I can't pay, and I don't admire jail — as a friend, now." " Got any bail ? — No ! — what's your trade — what name is it?" *' Poesy," was the laconic, but dignified reply. "Pusey? — Yes, I remember Pusey. You're in the shoe-cleaning line, somewhere in Fourth street. Pusey, ooots and shoes cleaned here. Getting whiter, ar'n't you ? I thought Pusey was a little darker in the counte- nance." " P-o-e-s-y !" roared Peter, spelling the word at the top of his voice ; " I'm a poet." *' Well, Posy, I suppose you don't write for nothing. Why didn't you pay your landlady out of what you received for your books, Posy ?" *' My genius ain't developed. I haven't written any thing yet. Only wait till my mind is manured, so I can catch the idea, and I'll pay off all old scores." "'Twont do. Posy. I don't understand it at all. You must go and find a little undeveloped bail, or I must send you to prison. The officer will go with you. But stay ; there's Mr. Grubson in the corner — perhaps he will bail you." Grubson looked unpromising. He had fallen asleep, and the flies hummed about his sulky copper-coloured visage, laughing at his unconscious drowsy efforts to drive them away. He was aroused by Pilgarlick, who nsinuatingly preferred the request. " I'll see you hanged first," replied Mr. Grubson ; " I goes bail for nobody. I'm undeveloped myself on thai UNDEVELOPED GENIUS. 59 g^;,ject,— not but that I have the greatest respect for you in the world, but the most of people's cheats." " You see, Posy, the development won't answer You must try out of doors. The ofEcer will go with you" " Squire, as a friend, excuse me," said Pilgarlick. *' But the truth of the matter is this. I'm delicate about being seen in the street with a constable. I'm prmcipled against it. The reputation which I'm going to get might be injured by it. Wouldn't it be pretty much the same thing, if Mr. Grubson was to go with the officer, and get me a little bail?" »' I'm delicate myself," growled Grubson ; " I m prm- cipled agin that too. Every man walk about on his own »sponsibility ; every man bail his own boat. You might jist as well ask me to swallow your physic, or take your thrashings." Alas ' Pilgarlick knew that his boat was past bailing. Few are the friends of genius in any of its stages-very few are they when it is undeveloped. He, therefore, consented to sojourn in -Arch west of Broad," until the whitewashing process could be performed, on condition he were taken there by the - alley way ;" for he sti looks ahead to the day, when a hot-pressed volume shall be published by the leading booksellers, entitled Poems, by P. Pilgarlick Pigwiggen, Esq. ( 60 ) THE BEST-NATURED MAN IN THE WORLD. A YIELDING temper, when not carefully watched and curbed, is one of the most dangerous of faults. Like un- regulated generosity, it is apt to carry its owner into a thousand difficulties, and, too frequently, to hurry him into vices, if not into crimes. But as it is of advantage to others while inflicting- injury upon its possessor, it has, by the common consent of mankind, received a fine name, which covers its follies and promotes its growth. This easiness of disposition, which is a compound of in- dolence, vanity, and irresolution, is known and applauded as " good-nature;" and, to have reached the superlative degree, so as to be called the " best-natured fellow in the world — almost too good-natured for his own good," is regarded as a lofty merit. AVhen applied to the proper person, thougli the recipient says nothing, it may be seen that it thrills him with delight ; the colour height- ens on his cheek ; and the humid brilliance of his eye speaks him ready to weep with joy over his own fancied perfections, and to outdo all his former outdoings. He is warmed through by the phrase, as if he had been feast- "ng upon preserved ginger, and he luxuriates upon the sensation, without counting the cost, and without calcu- lating the future sacrifices which it requires. He seldom sees why he is thus praised. He is content that it is so, THE BEST-NATURED MAN IN THE WORLD. 61 witliout inquiring into the process by which it was brought about. It is enough for him that he is the best- natured fellow in the world, and the conclusion generally shows that, in phrase pugilistic, it is "enough." There are few kinds of extravagance more ruinous than that of indulging a desire for being excessively good-natured, as the good-natured pussy learnt when the monkey used her paw to draw chestnuts from the fire. A man of circum- scribed means may, with comparative safety, keep horses and dogs, drink Champagne and Burgundy bet upon races and upon cock-fights ; he may even gratify a taste for being very genteel — for these things may subside into moderation ; but being very good-natured, in the popular acception of the phrase, is like the juvenile amusemen* of sliding down Market street hill on a sled. The further one goes, the greater is the velocity ; and, if the momen- tum be not skilfully checked, we are likely to land in the water. The " best-natured fellow in the world" is merely a convenience ; very useful to others, but worse than useless to himself. He is the bridge across the brook, and men walk over him. He is the wandering pony of the Pampas, seeking his own provender, yet ridden by those who contribute not to his support. He giveth up all the sunshine, and hath nothing but chilling shade for liimself. He waiteth at the table of the world, serveth the guests, who clear the board, and, for food and pay, give him fine words, which culinary research hath long since ascertained cannot be used with profit, even in the buttering of parsnips. He is, in fact, an appendage, not an individuality ; and when M^orn out, as he soon must be, is thrown aside to make room for another, if another can be had. Such is the result of excessive compliance and obsequious good-nature. It phmdereth a man of hi*j 62 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. spine, and converteih him into a flexile willow, to be bent and twisted as his companions choose, and, should it please them, to be wreathed into a fish-basket. Are there any who doubt of this ? Let them inc^uire for one Lemter Salix, and ask his opinion. Leniter may be ragged, but his philosophy has not so many holes in it as might be inferred from the state of his wardrobe. Nay, it is the more perfect on that account ; a knowledge of the world penetrates the more easily when, from defective apparel, we approach the nearer to our original selves. Leniter's hat is crownless, and the clear light of knowledge streams without impediment upon his brain. He is not bound up in the strait jacket of prejudice, for he long since pawned his solitary vest, and his coat, made for a Goliath, hangs about him as loosely as a politician's principles, or as the purser's shirt in the poetical comparison. Salix has so long bumped hie head against a stone wall, that he has knocked a hole in it, and like Cooke, the tragedian, sees through his error. He has speculated as extensively in experience as if it were town lots. The quantity of that article he has purchased, could it be made tangible, would freight a seventy-four; — were it convertible into cash, Croesus, King of Lydia, son of Halyattes, would be a Chelsea pensioner to Salix. But unluckily for him, there are stages in life when experience itself is more ornamental than useful. When, to use a forcible expression — when, a man is *' done," — it matters not whether he has as much experience as Samson had hair, or as Bergami had whis- ker — he can do no more. Salix has been in his time so much pestered with dujis, " hateful to gods and men,' that he is done himself. " The sun was rushing down the west," as Banim has it, attending to its own business, and, by that means, THE BEST-NATURED MAN IN THE WORLD. 63 shedding benefit upon the world, when Leniter Salix was seen in front of a little grocery, the locale of which shall be nameless, sitting dejectedly upon a keg of mack- erel, number 2. He had been " the best-natured fellow in the world," but, as the geologists say, he was in a state of transition, and was rapidly becoming up to trap At all events, he had his nose to the grindstone, an ope- ration which should make men keen. He was house- less, homeless, penniless, and the grocery man had asked him to keep an eye upon the dog, for fear of the mid- summer catastrophe which awaits such animals when their snouts are not in a bird cage. This service was to be recompensed with a cracker, and a glass of what the shopman was pleased to call racky mirackilis, a fluid sometimes termed "railroad," from the rapidity witli which it hurries men to the end of their journey. Like many of the best-natured fellows in the world, Salix, by way of being a capital companion, and of not being differ- ent from others, had acquired rather a partiality for riding on this " railroad," and he agreed to keep his trigger eye on the dog. " That's right, Salix. I always knowcd you were the best-natured fellow in the world." " H-u-m-p-s-e!" sighed Salix, in a prolonged, plain- .ve, uncertain manner, as if he admitted the fact, but doubted the honour; " h-u-m-p-s-e ! but, if it wasn't for the railroad, which is good for my complaint, because I take it internally to drive out the perspiration, I've a sort of a notion Carlo might take care of himself. There's the dog playing about without his muzzle, just because I'm good-natured ; there's Timpkins at work making money inside, instead of watching his own whelp, just because I'm good-natured ; and I'm to sit here doing nothing instead of going to get a little job a man promised 64 CHARCOAL SKETCHES me down towr., just because I'm good-natured. I can't see exactly what's the use of it to me. It's pretty much like having a bed of your own, and letting other people sleep in it, soft, while you sleep on the bare floor, hard. It wouldn't be so bad if you could have half, or quarter of the bed; but no — these good friends of mine, as I may say, turn in, take it all, roll themselves up in the kivering, and won't let us have a bit of sheet to mollify the white pine sacking bottom, the which is pleasant to whittle with a sharp knife — quite soft enough for that purpose — but the which is not the pink of feather beds. I don't like it — I'm getting tired." The brow of Salix began to blacken — therein having decidedly the advantage of his boots, which could nei- ther blacken themselves, nor prevail on their master to do it — when Mrs. Timpkins, the shopman's wife, popped out with a child in her arms, and three more trapesing after her. " Law, Salix, how-dee-doo ? I'm so glad — I know you're the best-natured creature in the world. Jist hold little Biddy a while, and keep an eye on t'other young 'uns — you're such a nurse — he ! he ! he ! — so busy— i ain't got no girl — so busy washing — most tea time- he ! he! he! Salix." Mrs. Timpkins disappeared, Biddy remained in the arms of Salix, and *' t'other young 'uns" raced about with the dog. The trigger eye was compelled to invoke the aid of its coadjutor. *' Whew!" whistled Salix; "the quantity of pork ihey give in this part of the town for a shilling is ama- zin' — I'm so good-natured ! That railroad will be well earnt, anyhow. I'm beginning to think it's queer there ain't more good-natured people about besides me — I'm a sort of mayor and corporation all myself in this busi- THE BEST-NATURED MAN IN THE WORLD. 65 ness. It's a monopoly where the profit's all loss. Now, for instance, these Timpkinses won't ask me to tea, be- cause I'm ragged ; but they ar'n't a bit too proud to ask me to play child's nurse and dog's uncle — they won't lend me any money, because I can't pay, and they're per- simmony and sour about cash concerns — and they won't let me have time to earn any money, and get good clothes — that's because I'm so good-natured. I've a good mind to strike, and be sassy." *' Hallo ! Salix, my good fellow !" said a man, (»n a horse, as he rode up ; " you're the very chap I'm looking for. As I says to my old woman, says I, Leniter Salix is the wholesoul'dest chap I ever did see. There's nothing he won't do for a friend, and I'll never forget him, if 1 was to live as old as Methuselah." Salix smiled — Hannibal softened rocks with vinegar, but the .stranger melted the ice of our hero's resolution with praise. Salix walked towards him, holding the child with one hand as he extended the other for a friendly shake. " You're the best-natured fellow in the world, Salix," ejaculated the stranger, as he leaped from the saddle, and hung the reins upon Salix's extended fingers, in' stead of shaking hands with him ; " you're the best- natured fellow in the world. Just hold my horse a mi- nute. I'll be back in a jiifey, Salix ; in less than half an hour," said the dismounted rider, as he shot round the corner. " If that ain't cutting it fat, I'll be darned!" growled Salix, as soon as he had recovered from his breathless amazement, and had gazed from dog to babe — from horse to children. " Mr. Salix," screamed Miss Tabitha Gadabout from the next house, " I'm just running over to Timpson's 135 06 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. place. Keep an eye on my street door — back in 9 minute." She flew across the street, and as she went, the words *'best natured-soul alive" were heard upon tho breeze. *' That's considerable fatter — it's as fat as show beef," said Salix. " How many eyes has a good-natured fellow got, anyhow? Three of mine's in use a'ready. The good-natureder you are, the more eyes you have, I s'pose. That job up town's jobbed without me, and where I'm to sleep, or to eat my supper, it's not the easiest thing in the world to tell. Ain't paid my board this six months, I'm so good-natured ; and the old woman's so good- natured, she said I needn't come back. These Timp- kinses and all of 'em are ready enough at asking me to do things, but when I ask them There, that dog's off, and the ketchers are coming — Carlo ! Carlo !" The baby began squalling, and the horse grew restive , the dog scampered into the very teeth of danger ; and the three little Timpkinses, who could locomote, went scrabbling, in different directions, into all sorts of mischief, until finally one of them pitched head foremost into a cellar. Salix grew furious. *' Whoa, pony ! — hush, you mfer- nal brat I — here. Carlo! — Thunder and crockery ! — there's a young Timpkins smashed and spoilt ! — knocked into a cocked hat !" *' Mr. Salix !" shouted a boy, from the other side of the way, " when you're done that 'ere, mammy says if you won't go a little narrand for her, you're so good- nater'd." There are moments when calamity nerves us ; when wild frenzy congeals into calm resolve ; as one may see oy penning a cat in a corner. It is then that the coward ' There ! that dog's oflF, aud the ketchers are comin'— Carlo ! Carlo V'—Book I, page 66. THE BEST-NATURED MAN IN THE WORLD. 67 fights ; that the oppressed strikes at the life of the oppres- sor. That moment had come to Salix. He stood bolt upright, as cold and as straight as an icicle. His good- nature might be seen to drop from him in two pieces, like Cinderella's kitchen garments in the opera. He laid Biddy Timpkins on the top of the barrel, released the horse, giving him a vigorous kick, which sent him flying down the street, and strode indignantly away, leaving Carlo, Miss Gadabout's house, and all other matters in his charge, to the guardianship of chance. "^ l^f 'f* "T^ '^ "T* The last time Salix was seen in the busy haunts of men, he looked the very incarnation of gloom and de- spair. His very coat had gone to relieve his necessities, and he wandered slowly and dejectedly about, relieving the workings of his perturbed spirit by kicking whatever fell in his way. " I'm done," soliloquized he ; " pardenership between me and good-nature is this day dissolved, and all persons .'ndebted will please to settle with the undersigned, who alone is authorized. Yes, there's a good many indebted, and its high time to dissolve, when your pardener has sold all the goods and spent all the money. Once 1 had a little shop — ah! wasn't it nice? — plenty of goods and plenty of business. But then comes one troop of fellows, and they wanted tick — I'm so good-natured ; then comes another set of chaps, who didn't let bashfulness stand in their way a minute; they sailed a good deal nearer the wind, and wanted to borry money — I'm so good-natured ; and more asked me to go security. These fellows were always very particular friends of mine, and got what they asked for ; but I was a very particular friend of theirs, and couldn't get it back. It was one of the good rules that won't work both ways ; and I, somehow 68 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. or other, was at the wrong end of it, for it wouldn't work my way at all. There's few rules that will, bar- ring substraction, and division, and alligation, when our folks allegated against me that I wouldn't come to no good. All the cypherin' I could ever do made more come to little, and little come to less ; and yet, as I said afore, I had a good many assistants too. ** Business kept pretty fair; but I wasn't cured. Because I was good-natured, I had to go with 'em fro- licking, tea partying, excursioning, and busting ; and for the same reason, I was always appinted treasurer to make the distribution when there wasn't a cent of sur- plus revenue in the treasury, but my own. It was my job to pay all the bills. Yes, it was always ' Salix, you know me' — ' Salix, pony up at the bar, and lend us a levy' — ' Salix always shells out like a gentleman.' — Oh ! to be sure, and why not ? — now I'm shelled out myself— first out of my shop by old venditioni exponas^ at the State House — old fiery fash his to me directed. But they didn't direct him soon enough, for he only got the fixtures. The goods had gone out on a bust long before I busted. Next, I was shelled out of my boarding house ; and now," (with a lugubrious glance at his shirt and pantaloons,) "I'm nearly shelled out of my clothes. It's a good thing they can't easy shell me out of my skin, or they would, and let me catch my death of cold. I'm a mere shell-fish — an oyster with the kivers off. *' But, it was always so — when I was a little boy, they coaxed all my pennies out of me ; coaxed me to take all the jawings, and all the hidings, and to go first into all sorts of scrapes, and precious scrapings they used to be. I wonder if there isn't two kinds of people — one kind that's made to chaw up t'other kind, and t'other kind that's made to be chawed up by one kind? — cat- THE BEST-NATURED MAN IN THE WORLD. 69 jtind of people and mouse-kind of people ? I guess there is — I'm very much mouse myself. " What I want to know is what's to become of me. I've spent all I had in getting my eddication. Learnin', they say, is better than houses and lands. I wonder if anybody would swap some house and land with me for mine ? I'd go it even, and ask no boot. They should have it at prime cost ; but they won't ; and I begin to be afraid I'll have to get married, or list in the marines. That's what most people do when they've nothing to do." ****** What became of Leniter Salix immediately, is imma- terial ; what will become of him eventually, is clear enough. His story is one acting every day, and, thougn grotesquely sketched, is an evidence of the danger ot an accommodating disposition when not regulated by pru- dence. The softness of '* the best-natured fellow in the world" requires a large admixture of hardening alloy to give it the proper temper. (70) A PAIR OF SLIPPERS; OR, FALLING' WEATHER. " Then I, and you, and all of us fell down." Whenever we look upon the crowded thoroughfare, or regard the large assembly, we are compelled to admit that the infinite variety of form in the human race contri- butes largely to the picturesque. The eye travels over the diversity of shape and size without fatigue, and re- news its strength by turning from one figure to another, when, at each remove, it is sure to find a difference. Satiated with gazing at rotundity, it is refreshed by a glance at lathiness ; and, tired with stooping to the lowly, it can mount like a bird to the aspiring head which tops a maypole. But, while the potency of these pictorial beauties is admitted, it must be conceded that the varia- tions from the true standard, although good for the eye- sight, are productive of much inconvenience ; and that, to consider the subject like a Benthamite, utility and the general advantage would be promoted if the total amount of flesh, blood, bone, and muscle were more equally dis- tributed. As aff*airs are at present arranged, it is almost impossible to find a " ready made coat" that will answer jne's purpose, and a man may stroll through half the shops in town without being able to purchase a pair of boots which he can wear with any degree of comfort. In A PAIR OF SLIPPEllS. 71 hanging a lamp, every shop keeper, who " lights up," knows that it is a very trouble?*^me matter so to swing it, that, while the short can see the commodities, the tall will not demolish the glass. If an abbreviated " turnippy" man, in the goodness of his heart and in articulo mortis, bequeaths his wardrobe to a long and gaunt friend, of what service is the posthumous present ? It is available merely as new clothing for the juveniles, or as something toward another kitchen carpet. Many a martial spirit is obliged to content himself with civic employment, al- though a mere bottle of fire and wrath, because heroism is enlisted by inches, and not by degree. If under " five foot six," Caesar himself could find no favour in the eye of the recruiting sergeant, and Alexander the Great would be allowed to bestride no Bucephalus in a dragoon regiment of modern times. Thus, both they who get too much, and they who get too little, in Dame Nature's ap- portionment bill, as well as those who, though abundantly endowed, are not well made up, have divers reasons for grumbling, and for wishing that a more perfect uniformity prevailed. Some of the troubles which arise from giving a man more than his share in altitude, find illustration in the subjoined narrative : — Linkum Langcale is a subject in extenso. He is, to use the words of the poet, suggested by his name. -« A bout" " Of linked sweetness long drawn out ••" and, in speaking of him, it is not easy to be brief. Lis. kum is entirely too long for his own comfort — something short — if the word sliort may be used in this connexion — something short of the height of the Titans of old, who pelted Saturn with brickbats ; but how much has never 72 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. yet been ascertained, none of his acquaintances beln^ sufficiently acquainted with trigonometry to determine the fact. He is one of those men who, like the gentle Marcia, *' tower above their sex," and must always be called down to their dinner, as no information can be imparted to them unless it be hallooed up ; and in con- versing with whom, it is always necessary to begin by hailing the maintop. There is not, however, more material in Linkum than enough for a man of ordinary length. The fault is in his not being properly made up. He is abominably wire drawn — stretched out, as Shak- speare says, almost to the crack of doom. It is clear that there has been an attempt to make too much of him, but the frame of the idea has not been well filled out. He is the streak of a Colossus, and he resembles the willow wand at which Locksley shot his gray goose shaft in. the lists of Ashby de la Zouche. The conse- quence is, that Linkum is a crank vessel. If he wore a feather in his cap, he would be capsized at every corner ; and as it is, he finds it very difficult to get along on a windy day, without a paving stone in each coat pocket to preserve the balance of power. He is, however, of a convivial nature, and will not refuse his glass, notwith- standing the aptitude of alcohol to ascend into the brain, and so to encumber it as to render a perpendicular position troublesome to men shorter than himself. When in this condition, his troubles are numberless, and among other matters, he finds it very difficult to get a clear fall, there being in compact cities very little room to spare for the accommodation of long men tumbling down in he world. One evening Linkum walked forth to a convivial meeting, and supped with a set of jolly companions liate at night a rain came on, which froze as it fell, and A PAIR OF SLIPPERS. 73 soon made the city one universal slide, sufficiently *' glip" for all purposes, without the aid of saw-dust. Of Linkum's sayings and doings at the social board, no record is preserved ; but it is inferred that his amuse- ments were not of a nature to qualify him for the safe performance of a journey so slippery as that which it was necessary to undertake to reach home. No lamps were lighted, they who were abroad being under the necessity of supposing the moonshine, and of seeing their way as they walked, or of gathering themselves up when they fell, by the lantern of imagination, " Good night, fellers," said Linkum, at the top of the steps, as the door closed after him. He pulled his hat over his eyes determinedly, buttoned his coat with resolution, and sucked at his cigar with that iron energy peculiar to men about to set forth on their way home on a cold, stormy night. The fire of the cigar reflected from his nose was the only illumination to be seen ; and Linkum, putting his hands deep into his pockets, kept his position on the first step of the six which were between him and the pavement. " I've no doubt," said he, as he puffed forth volumes of smoke, and seemed to cogitate deeply — " I've not the slightest doubt that this is as beautiful a night as ever was ; only it's so dark you can't see the pattern of it. One night is pretty much like another night in the dark ; but it's a great advantage to a good looking evening, if the lamps are lit, so you can twig the stars and the moonshine. The fact is, that in this 'ere city, we do grow the blackest moons, and the hardest moons to find, i ever did see. Sometimes I'm most disposed to send the bellman after 'em — or get a full blooded pinter to pint 'em out, while I hold a candle to see which way he pints. It wouldn't be a bad notion on sich occasions to 74 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. ask the man in the steeple to ring which way the moon is. Lamps is lamps, and moons is moons, in a business pint of view, but practically they ain't much if the wicks ain't afire. When the luminaries are, as I may say, in the raw, it's bad for me. I can't see the ground as perforately as little fellers, and every dark night I'm sure to get a hyst — either a forrerd hyst, or a backerd hyst, or some sort of a hyst — but more backerds than forrerds, 'specially in winter. One of the most unfeel- ing tricks I know of, is the way some folks have got of laughing out, yaw-haw ! when they see a gen- tleman ketching a riggler hyst — a long gentleman, for instance, with his legs in the air, and his noddle splat down upon the cold bricks. A hyst of itself is bad enough, without being sniggered at : first, your sconce gets a crack ; then, you see all sorts of stars, and have free admission to the fireworks ; then, you scramble up, feeling as if you had no head on your shoulders, and as if it wasn't you, but some confounded disagreeable feller in your clothes ; yet the jacksnipes all grin, as if the misfortunes of human nature was only a poppet show. I wouldn't mind it, if you could get up and look as if you didn't care. But a man can't rise, after a royal hyst, without letting on he feels flat. In such cases, however, sympathy is all gammon ; and as for sensibility of a winter's day, people keep it all for their own noses, and can't be coaxed to retail it by the small." Linkum paused in his prophetic dissertation upon " hysts" — the popular pronunciation, in these parts, of the word hoist, which is used — quasi lucus a non lucendo — to convey the idea of the most complete tum- ble which man can experience. A fall, for instance, is indeterminate. It may be an easy slip down — a gentle A PAIR OF SLIPPERS. 75 visitation of mother earth ; but a hyst is a rapid, forcible performance, which may be done, as Linkum observes, either backward or forward, but of necessity with such violence as to knock the breath out of the body, or it is unworthy of the noble appellation of hyst. It is an apt, but figurative mode of expression, and it is often carried still further ; for people sometimes say, " lower him up, and hyst him down." Our hero held on firmly to the railing, and peered keenly into the darkness, without discovering any object on which his vision could rest. The gloom was sub- stantial. It required sharper eyes than his to bore a hole in it. The wind was up, and the storm continued to coat the steps and pavements with a sheet of ice. "It's raining friz potatoes," observed Linkum; "I feel 'em, though I can't see 'em, bumping the end of my nose ; so I must hurry home as fast as I can." Heedless and hapless youth ! He made a vain attempt to descend, but, slipping, he came in a sitting posture upon the top step, and, in that attitude, flew down like lightning bump ! bump ! bump ! The impetus he had acquired prevented him from stopping on the sidewalk, notwithstanding his convulsive efforts to clutch the icy bricks, and he skuted into the gutter, whizzing over the curbstone, and splashing into the water, like a young Niagara. A deep silence ensued, broken solely by the pattering of the rain and the howling of the wind. Linkum was an exhausted receiver ; the hyst wrs perfect, the breath being completely knocked out of him. " Laws-a-massy !" at length he panted, " ketching" breath at intervals, and twisting about as if in pain ; " my eyes ! sich a hyst ! Sich a quantity of hysts all in one ! The life's almost bumped out of me, and I'm jammed 7G CHARCOAL SKETCHES. up SO tight, I don't believe I'm so tall by six inches as 1 was before. I'm druv' up and clinched, and I'll have to get tucks in my trousers." Linkum sat still, ruminating on the curtailment of his fair proportions, and made no effort to rise. The door soon opened again, and Mr. Broad Brevis came forth, at which a low, suppressed chuckle was uttered by Linkum, as he looked over his shoulder, anticipating " a quantity of hysts all in one" for the new comer, whose figure, however, — short and stout, — was much belter calculated for the operation than Linkum's. But Brevis seemed to suspect that the sliding was good, and the skating magnificent. " No, you don't !" quoth he, as he tried the step with one foot, and recovered himself; " I haven't seen the Alleghany Portage and inclined planes for nothing. It takes me to diminish the friction, and save the wear and tear." So saying, he quietly tucked up his coat tails, and sitting down upon the mat, which he grasped with both hands, gave himself a gentle impulse, crying "All aboard I" and slid slowly but majestically down. As he came to the plain sailing across the pavement, he twanged forth " Ta-ra-ta-ra-ta-ra-tra-a-a !" in excellent imitation of the post horn, and brought up against Linkum. " Clear the course for the express mail, or I'll report you to the department!" roared Brevis, trumpeting the "alarum," so well known to all who have seen a tragedy — " Tra- tretra-ta-ra-tra-a-a !" That's queer fun, anyhovi^," said a careful wayfarer, turning the corner, with lantern in hand, and sock on foot, who, after a short parley, was induced to set the gentlemen on their pins. First planting Brevis against the pump, who sang " Let me lean on thee," from the A PAIR OF SLIPPERS. 77 Sonnambiila, in prime style, he undertook to lift up Linkum. " Well," observed the stranger, " this is a chap with- out no end to him — he'd be pretty long a drowning, any how. If there w^as many more like him in the gutters, it Avould be better to get a windlass, and wind 'em up I never see'd a man with so much slack. The corpora- tion ought to buy him, starch him up stiff, cut a hole for •a clock in his hat, and use him for a steeple ; only Downing wouldn't like to trust himself on the top of such a ricketty concern. — Neighbour, shall I fetch the Humane Society's apparatus?" " No — I ain't drownded, only bumped severe. The curbstones have touched my feelings. I'm all over like a map — red, blue, and green." " Now," said their friendly assistant, grinning at the joke, and at the recompense he had received for the job, " now, you two hook on to one another like Siameses, and mosey. You've only got to tumble one a top of t'other, and it won't hurt. Tortle off — it's slick going — 'specially if you're going down. Push ahead !" con- tinued he, as he hitched them together ; and away they went, a pair of slippers^ arm in arm. Many were their tumbles and many their mischances before they reached their selected resting place. " I can't stand this," said Linkum to his companion, as they were slipping and falling; " but it's mostly owing to my being so tall. I wish I was razee'd, and then it wouldn't happen. The awning posts almost knock the head off me ; I'm always tumbling over wheelbarrows, dogs, and children, because, if I look down, I'm certain to knock my noddle against something above. It's a com- plete nuisance to be so tall. Beds are too short ; if you ffo to a tea-fight, the people are always tumbling over 78 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. your trotters, and breaking their noses, which is what young ladies ain't partial to ; and if you tipple too much toddy of a slippery night — about as easy a thing to do as you'd wish to try — you're sure to get a hyst a square long — ^just such a one as I've had. If I'd thought of it, I could have said the multiplication table while I was going the figure. Stumpy chaps, such as you, ain't got no troubles in this world." " That's all you know about it," puffed Brevis, as Linkum alternately jerked him from his feet, and then caused him to slide in the opposite direction, with his heels ploughing the ice, like a shaft horse holding back : *' phew ! That's all you know about it — stumpies have troubles." *' I can't borrow coats," added Linkum, soliloquiz- ing, " because I don't like cuffs at the elbows. I can't borrow pants, because it isn't the fashion to wear knee- breeches, and all my stockings are socks. I can't hide when anybody owes me a lambasting. You can see me a mile. When I sit by the fire, I can't get near enough to warm my body, without burning my knees ; and in a stage-coach, there's no room between the benches, and the way you get the cramp — don't mention it." " I don't know nothing about all these things ; but to imagine I was a tall chap " *' Don't try ; you'll hurt yourself, for it's a great stretch of imagination for a little feller to do that." After which amicable colloquy, nothing more was heard of them, except that, before retiring to rest, triey chuckled over the idea that the coming spring would sweat the ice to death for the annoyance it had caused them But ever while they live, will they remember •' the night of hysts." (79) INDECISION. " An obstinate temper is very disagreeable, particularly in a wife ; ft passionate one very shocking in a child ; but for one's own parti- cular comfort, Heaven help the possessor of an irresolute one ! — Its day of hesitation — its night of repentance — the mischief it does — the misery it feels ! — its proprietor may well say, * Nobody can tell what 'I suffer but myself!'" We know not to whom the remarks above quoted are to be attributed, but every observer of human actions will acquiesce in their justice. There are few misfortunes greater than the possession of an irresolute mind. Other afflictions are temporary in their nature ; the most inve- terate of chronic diseases leaves the patient his hours of comfort ; but he who lacks decision of character must cease to act altogether before he can be released from the suffering it occasions. It is felt, whether the occasion be great or small, whenever there is more than one method of arriving at the same end, and it veers like a girouette at the aspect of alternatives. One can scarcely go so far as the poet, who quaintly says : " li needs but this, be bold, bold, bold; 'Tis every virtue told — Honour and truth, hxvmanity and skill, The noblest charity the mind can will" But the lines are pregnant with meaning. The curse o* .ndecision impedes the growth of virtue, and renders our best powers comparatively inoperative. 6 80 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. It would certainly be the parent of interminable con- fusion if all men were qualified to lead in the affairs of the world. The impulse to direct and to command is almost irrepressible. He who is born with it instinct- ively places himself at the head of a movement, and clutches the baton of authority as if it had been his play- thing from infancy. Even in the sports of childhood, the controlling and master spirit of the merry group is to oe detected at a glance ; and, if three men act together for a day, the leading mind discovers and assumes its place. The inferior in mental power sink rapidly to their appropriate station ; the contemplation of an emergency tends to convince them that they are incompetent to head^ the column, and, although they may grumble a little, they soon fall quietly into the ranks. It, therefore, would not answer if all men had that self-reliance and that iron will which are the essential ingredients in the composition of a leading mind. The community would be broken up into a mob of generals, with never a soldier to be had for love or money. There would be no more liarmony extant than there is in the vocal efforts of a roomfuU of bacchanalians, when each man singeth his own peculiar song, and hath no care but that he may be louder than his boon companions. Our time would be chiefly spent in trying to disprove the axiom, that when two men ride a horse one must ride behind. Each pony in the field would have riders enough ; but, instead of jogging steadily toward any definite end, he who was in the rear would endeavour to clamber to the front, and thus a species of universal leap-frog would be the order of the day. Great results could not be achieved, for action in masses would be a thing unheard of, and the nations would be a collection of unbound sticks. Yet the cultivation of the energies to a certain extent INDECISION. 81 is a matter of import to the welfare and happiness of e^ery individual. We are frequently placed in circum- stances in which it is necessary to be our own captain- general ; and, with all deference to the improving spirit of the time, and to the labours of the many who devote themselves to the advancement of education, it must be confessed that the energies do not always receive the at- tention to which they are entitled. It is true there is an abundance of teaching ; we can scarcely move without coming in contact with a professor of something, who, in the plenitude of his love for his fellows, promises, for the most trifling consideration, to impart as much if not more than he knows himself, in a time so incrediblf^ short that, if we were not aware of the wonder-working power of the high pressure principle, we should not be- lieve it ; but no one has yet appeared in the useful character of a " Professor of Decision" — no one has yet thought it a good speculation to teach in six lessons of an hour each, the art of being able without assistance speedily to make up the mind upon a given subject, and to keep it made up, like a well-packed knapsack. There are arith- meticians and algebraists in plenty ; but the continent may be ranged without finding him who can instruct us how to solve, as Jack Downing would express it, a " tuff sum" in conduct, and to act unflinchingly upon the answer; and ingenuity has discovered no instrument to screw the mind to the sticking place. Now, although humility may be a very amiable characteristic, and defer- ence to the opinions of others a very pleasing trait, yet promptness in decision and boldness in action form the best leggins with which to scramble through the thistles and prickles of active life ; and a professor of the kind alluded to w^ould doubtless have many pupils from the ranks of those who have, by virtue of sandry tears 136 82 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. and scratches, become anxious for a pair of nether in teguments of that description. At least, he might rely upon DUBERLY DOUBTINGTON, THE MAN WHO COULDN'T MAKE UP HIS MIND *' Leah, tell your master dinner's been waiting for him this hour." ^ " He can't come, mem ; — the man's with him yet, mem." *' Whatman?" " The solumcolly man, mem ; — the man that stays so .ong, and is always so hard to go." Every one who has visiters is aware of the great difference among them in the matter referred to by Leah. In fact, they may be divided into two classes — visiters who are " easy to go" and administer themselves, accord- ing to Hahnemann, in homoeopathic doses, and visiters who are *'hard to go," and are exhibited in quantity, in conformity with regular practice. The individual who was guilty of keeping Mr. Edax Rerum from his dinner was Duberly Doubtington, a man who couldn't make up his mind — a defect of cha- racter which rendered him peculiarly hard to go, and made him responsible for having caused many to eat their mutton cold. It was Juliet who found, " Parting such sweet sorrow, That she could say good night till it be morrow /" and Duberly's farewells are equally interminable. When ne has once fairly effected a lodgment, he is rooted to DUBERLY DOUBTINGTON. 83 the spot. It IS as difficult for him to go off, as it frequent- ly is for stage heroes to make their pistols shoot. But, though it is hard for him to go, yet he finds it quite easy to be hours in going. By way of preparation, he first reaches his hat, and " smooths its raven down." He then lays it aside again for the greater convenience of drawing on a glove, and that operation being completed, the gauntlet is speedily drawn off that he may adjust his side-locks. Much time being consumed in these inte- resting preliminaries, he has no difficulty at all in em- ploying an additional hour when once fairly upon his legs. He discourses over the back of his chair, he pauses at the parlour door, he hesitates in the hall, and rallies manfully on the outer steps. The colder the weather the more determined his grasp upon his victim, having decidedly the advantage over the resident of the mansion, in being hatted, coated, and gloved. In this way, indeed, he deserves a medal from the faculty for cutting out doctor's work, especially in influenza times. The straps and buckles of Duberly's resolution will not hold, no matter how tightly he may pull them up, and he has suffered much in the unphilosophic attempt to sit upon two stools. When he starts upon a race, an unconsidered shade of opinion is sure to catch him by the skirt, and draw him back. He is, in a measure, Fabian in policy. He shifts his position continually, and never hazards an attack. His warfare is a succes- sion of feints and unfinished demonstrations, and he has been aptly likened to a leaden razor, M^hich looks sharp enough, but will turn in the cutting. He is in want of a pair of mental spectacles ; for he has a weakness in the optic nerve of his mind's eye which prevents him, in regarding the future, from seeing beyond the nose of the present movement. The chemistry of events, which 84 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. figures out ulterior results from immediate combination and instant action, is a science as yet unknown to Du- berly, Doubtington. He cannot tell what to think ; he knows not what to do. The situations in which he is placed have never occurred to him before ; the lights of experience are wanting, and he is therefore perplexed in the labyrinth. Like the fabled coffin of INIohammed, he is always in a state of " betweenity." He is, in short, as a forcible writer well observes, one of those unfortu- nate people who seldom experience " the sweet slumber of a decided opinion,'''' Such is the moral man of Duberly Doubtington, and his physical man betrays traits of indecision equally as strong. He tries to encourage his heart by cocking his beaver a la militaire, but its furry fierceness cannot contradict the expression of the features it surmounts. His eyebrows form an uncertain arch, rising nearly an inch above the right line of determination, and the button of his nose is so large and blunt as to lend any thing but a penetrating look to his countenance. His under lip droops as if afraid to clench resolutely with its antago- nist; and his whiskers hang dejectedly down, instead of bristling like a chevaux defrise toward the outer angle of the eye. The hands of Mr. Doubtington always repose in his pockets, unwilling to trust to their own means of support, and he invariably leans his back against the nearest sustaining object. When he walks, his feet shuffle here and there so dubiously that one may swear they have no specific orders where to go ; and so indefinite are the motions of his body, that even the tails of his coat have no characteristic swing. They look, not like Mr. Doubtington's coat-tails, but like coat-tails in the abstract — undecided coat-tails, that have not yet got the hang of anybody's back, and have acquired no DUBERLY DOUBTINGTON. 85 more individuality than those which dangle at the shop doors in Water street. Duberiy Doubtington was at one time tolerably com fortable in his pecuniary circumstances. His father had been successful in trade, and, of course, thought it un- necessary to teach his children to make up their minds about any thing but enjoying themselves. This neglect, however, proved fatal to the elder Doubtington. That worthy individual being taken one warm summer afternoon with an apoplectic fit, the younger Doubtington was so perplexed whether or not to send for a physician and if he did, what physician should be called in — whether he should or should not try to bleed him with a penknife, and whether it was most advisable to have him put to bed up stairs or to leave him upon the sofa down stairs, — that the old gentleman, being rather pressed for time, could not await the end of the debate, and quietly slipped out of the world before his son could make up his mind as to the best method of keeping him in it. In fact, it was almost a chance that the senior Doubtington obtained sepulture at all, as Duberiy could not make up his mind where that necessary business should take place ; and he would have been balancing the pros and cons of the question to this day, if some other person, more prompt of decision, had not settled the matter. Duberiy Doubtington was now his own master. There were none entitled to direct, to control, or to advise him. He was the Phaeton of his own fortunes, and could drive the chariot where he pleased. But, although he had often looked forward to this important period with much satisfaction, and had theorised upon it with great delight, yet in practice he found it not quite so well adapted to his peculiar abilities as he thought it would 86 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. be. A share of decision is required even by those who are placed beyond the necessity of toiling for bread. The disposition of his means frequently called on him to resolve upon a definite course, " I regard it as a very fair investment, Mr. Doubt- ington," said his broker ; " your money is useless where it is." * But, what do you advise? — under the circumstances, what should I do ?" replied Duberly. " Of course, I don't pretend to direct. I want no un- necessary responsibility. There's no knowing what may happen these slippery times. I think the chance a good one ; but make up your mind about it." There are people who talk about making up one's mind as if it were a task as easy as to eat a dinner, or as if it were as purely mechanical as driving a nail, or putting on a pair of old familiar boots. " I pay that man for attending to my business,'* muttered Duberly, " and yet he has the impudence to tell me to make up my mind ! — That's the very thing I want him to do for me. The tailor makes my clothes — Sally makes my bed — nature makes my whiskers, and John makes my fires ; yet I must be bothered to make up my mind about money matters ! I can't — the greatest nuisances alive are these responsibility shifting people ; and, if some one would tell me who else to get to attend to my business, I'd send that fellow flying." Difiicult, however, as he supposed it would be, Duber- Iv at length found a gentleman manager of his pecuniary affairs, who never troubled him to make up his mind, with what results shall appear anon. Duberly could not resolve whether it was the best policy to travel first in the old world or in the new, and he therefore did neither ; but as time is always heavy on DUBERLY DOUBTINGTON. 87 the hands of those who have much of it at disposal, and as it is difficult to lounge eternally at home, or in the street, he slowly established what the iScoich call a *' hov/f for each portion of the day. In the morning he dozed over the newspapers at a reading room ; be- tween noon and the dinner hour, he lolled upon three chairs at the office of his friend Capias the lawyer, by way of facilitating that individual's business ; the after- noon was divided between whittling^ switches at home and riding to some popular resort, v/here he cut his name upon the table. In the evening, if he did not yawn at the theatre, he visited some hospitable mansion, where the elders were good natured and the juniors agreeable. At the house of Mrs. St. Simon Sapsago, a bouncing widow, with a dashing son, and a pair of daughters, Mr. Duberly Doubtington was invariably well received ; for, although he could not make up his mind, he was in other respects so " eligible" that Mrs. St. Simon Sapsago was always pleased to see him, and willing that he should either listen or talk as much as he liked within her doors. Miss Ethelinda St. Simon Sapsago was a very pretty girl ; and, for some reason or other, comported herself so graciously to Duberly, that, when troubled to form a conclusion, he usually asked her advice, and to his great satisfaction, was sure to receive it in a comfortable, decisive way. ** Miss Ethelinda, I'm trying to make up my mind about coats ; but I can't tell whether I like bright but- tons or not. Nor do I know exactly which are the nicest colours. I do wish there was only one sort of buttons, and only one kind of colour ; the way every thing is now, is so tiresome — one's perpetually both- ered." So Ethelinda St. Simon Sapsago, with her sweetest 88 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. smile, would give her views upon the subject, to Duber- ly's great delight. In fact, she was his " council's con- sistory ;" or, as the Indians have it, she was his "sense- bearer," a very important item in the sum total of one's domestic relations. But, though these consultations were very frequent, still Duberly said nothing to the purpose, notwithstand- ing the fact that every one looked upon it as a " settled thing," and wanted to know when it was to be. Duberly Doubtington, however, never dreamed of matrimony ; or if he did, it only floated like a vague mist across the distant horizon of his speculative thoughts. He regarded it as a matter of course that, at some period or other, he should have a wife and children — just as we all expect either to be bald, or to have gray hairs, and to die : but he shivered at the idea of being called on to make up his mind on such a step. He had a faint hope that he \vould be married, as it were, imperceptibly ; tliat it would, like old age, steal upon him by degrees, so that he might be used to it before he found it out. The connu- bial state, however, is not a one into which a Doubtington can slide by degrees ; there is no such thing as being im perceptibly married, a fact of which Mrs. and Miss St. Simon Sapsago were fully aware, and, therefore, resolved to precipitate matters by awakening Duberly's jealousy. Ethelinda became cold upon giving her advice on the subject of new coats and other matters. Indeed, when asked by Duberly whether she did not think it would be better for him to curtail his whiskers somewhat during the summer months, she went so far as to say that she didn't care what he did with them, and that she never had observed whether he wore huge corsair whiskers, or lawyerlike apologies. Duberly was shocked at a defection so flagrant on the part of his "sense-bearer." DUBERLY DOUBTINGTON. 89 Insult his whiskers ! — he couldn't make up his mind what to think of it. But still more shocked was he when he observed that she smiled upon Mr. Adolphus Fitzflam, who cultivated immense black curls, latitudinarian whiskers, black moustaches, with an imperial to match — Fitzflam, who made it the business of his life to " do the appalling," and out-haired everybody except the bison at the " Zoolo- gical Institute." Duberly felt uncomfortable ; he was not in love — at least he had never found it out — but he was troubled with a general uneasiness, an oppression, a de- pression, and a want of appetite. " Gastric derangement," said the quack advertisements, and Duberly took a box of pills: "but one disease," said the newspapers, and Duberly swallowed another box of pills, but without relief. Whenever Fitzflam approached, the symptoms returned. "I can't make up my mind about it," said Duberly; •' but I don't think I like that buffalo fellow, Fitzflam Why don't they make him up into mattrasses, and stuff cushions with whatever's left?" ****** " Mr. Doubtington, isn't Augustus Fitzflam a duck ?" said Ethelinda one evening when they were left tete-d- tete ; *' such beautiful hair!" " I can't tell whether he's a duck or not," said Du- berly, dryly, "I haven't seen much more of him than the tip of his nose; but, if not a member of the goose family, he will some day share the fate of the man I saw at Fairmount — be drowned in his own locks.^^ *' But he looks so romantic — so piratical — as if he had something on his mind, never slept, and had a silent sorrow here " 90 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. "He had better try a box of the vegetable pills,' thought Duberly. " Well, I do declare it's not surprising that so many have fallen in love with Adolphus Fitzflam," and Miss Ethelinda St. Simon Sapsago breathed a scarcely per- ceptible sigh. Duberly started — his eyes were opened to his own complaint at once, and somehow or other, without making up his mind, he hurriedly declared himself. "Speak to my ma," faintly whispered Miss Ethelin- da St. Simon Sapsago. "To-morrow," replied Duberly Doubtington, taking a tender, but rapid farewell. Duberly was horror-struck at his own rashness. He tossed and rolled all night, trying to make up his mind as to the propriety of his conduct. He stayed at home all day for the same purpose, and the next day found him still irresolute. " Mrs. St. Simon Sapsago's compliments, and wishes to know if Mr. Duberly Doubtington is ill." "No!" Three days more, and yet the mind of Mr. Doubting- ton was a prey to perplexity. Mr. Julius St. Simon Sapsago called to ask the meaning of his conduct, and Duberly promised to inform him when he had made up his mind. Mr. Adolphus Fitzflam, as the friend of Julius St. S. Sapsago, with a challenge. " Leave your errand, boy," said Doubtington, angrily, *and go." Fitzflam winked at the irregularity, and retreated. Duberly lighted a cigar with the cartel, and puflfed away vigorously DUBERLY DOUBTINGTON. 91 • What's to be done ? — marry, or be shot ! I don't Uke either — at least, I've come to no conckision on the subject. When I've made up my mind, I'll let 'em know — plenty of time." No notice being taken of the challenge, Mr. Julius St. Simon Sapsago assaulted Mr. Doubtington in the street with a horsewhip, while Fitzilam stood by to enjoy the sport. There is nothing like a smart external application to quicken the mental faculties, and so our hero found it. *' Stop !" said he, dancing a la Celeste. "You're a scoundrel!" cried Julius, and the whip cracked merrily. *' I've made up my mind !" replied Duberly, suddenly shooting his clenched fist into the countenance of ihe flagellating Julius, who turned a backward summerset over a wheelbarrow. Fitzflam lost his hat in an abrupt retreat up the street, and he was fortunate in his swift- ness, for, "had all his hairs been lives," Duberly would have plucked them. But, from this moment, the star of Duberly Doubting- ton began to wane. The case of Sapsago versus Doubt- ington, for breach of promise of marriage, made heavy inroads upon his fortune. His new man of business, who took the responsibility of managing his money affairs without pestering him for directions, sunk the whole of his cash in the Bubble and Squeak Railroad and Canal Company, incorporated with banking privileges Doubtington, therefore, for once was resolute, and turned politician ; and in this capacity it was that he called upon Mr. Edax Rerum for his influence to procure him an oflice. He still lives in the hope of a place, but, unluck- ily for himself, can never make up his mind on which side to be zealous until the crisis is past and zeal is L»fieless. 92 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. Plis last performance was characteristic. Having escorted the Hon. Phinkey Phunks to the steamboat, the vessel began to move before he had stepped ashore. He stood trembling on the brink. *' Jump, you fool!" said a jarvey. — " Take keer — it's too fur!" said a news paper boy. The advice being balanced, Doubtington was perplexed, and, making a half step, as the distance widened, he plumped into the river. He was fished out almost drowned, and, as he stood streaming and wo-be- gone upon the wharf, while other less liquid patriots earned golden opinions by shouting, " Hurrah for Phunks !" imagination could scarcely conceive a more appropriate emblem of the results of indecision than that presented by Duberly Doubtington, a man who, had it been left to himself, would never have been in the world at all. (93 ) DILLY JONES; OR, THE PROGRESS OF IMPROVEMENT One of the most difficult things in the world is to run before the wind; and, by judiciously observing tne changes of the weather, to avoid being thrown out. Fashion is so unsteady, and improvements are so rapid, that the man whose vocation yields him an abundant harvest now, may, in a few years, if he has not a keen eye, and a plastic versatility, find that his skill and his business are both useless. Many were the poor barbers shipwrecked by the tax upon hair-powder, and numerous were the leather breeches makers who were destroyed by the triumph of woollens. Their skill was doubtless very great, but it would not avail in a contest against the usages of the world ; and unless they had the capacity to strike out a new course, they all shared the fate of their commodities, and retired to the dark cellars of popu lar estimation. Every day shows us the same principle of change at work, and no one has more reason to reflect and mourn about it than one Dilly Jones of this city. Dilly is not, perhaps, precisely the person who would be chronicled by the memoir writers of the time, or have a monument erected to him if he were no more ; but Dilly is a man of a useful though humble vocation, and no one can saw hickory with more classic elegance, or s'n upon 94 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. the curbstone and take his dinner with more picturesqv tj effect. Yet, as has been hinted above, Dilly has his sorrows, particularly at night, after a hard day's work, when his animal spirits have been exhausted by reducing gum logs to the proper measure. In the morning he is full of life and energy, feeling as if he could saw a cord of Shot- lowers, and snap the pillars of the Bank across his knee like pipe stems. In the full flush of confidence at that time of day, reflection batters against him in vain ; but as the night draws on, Dilly feels exhausted and spirit- less. His enthusiasm seems to disappear with the sun, and neither the moon nor the stars can cause high tide in tlie river of his mind. The current of his good spirits shrinks in its channel, leaving the gay and gorgeous barques of hope and confidence drearily ashore on the muddy flats ; and his heart fails him as if it were useless longer to struggle against adversity. It was in this mood that he was once seen travelling homeward, with his horse and saw fixed scientifically upon his shoulders. He meandered in his path in the way peculiar to men of his vocation, and travelled with that curvilinear elegance which at once indicates that he who practises it is of the wood-sawing profession, and illustrates the lopsided consequences of giving one leg more to do than the other. But Dilly was too melan- choly on this occasion to feel proud of his professional air, and perhaps, had he thought of it, would have re- proved the leg which performed the *' sweep of sixty," for indulging in such graces, and thereby embarrassing Its more humble brother, which, knowing that a right line is the shortest distance between two places, laboured to go straight to its destinatijn. Dilly, however, had no DILLY JONES. 95 such stuff in his thoughts. His mind was reasoning from tlie past to the future, and was mournfully meditating upon the difficulties of keeping up with the changes of the times, which roll onward like a Juggernaut, and crush all who are not swift enough to maintain themselves in the lead. He wondered why fashions and customs should so continually change, and repined that he could not put a spoke in their wheel, that the trade of one's early days might likewise be the trade of one's latter years. So complete was his abstraction that he uncon- sciously uttered his thoughts aloud : " Sawing wood's going all to smash," said he, " and that's where every thing goes what I speculates in. This here coal is doing us up. Ever since these black stones was brought to town, the wood-sawyers and pilers, ind them soap-fat and hickory-ashes men, has been going down ; and, for my part, I can't say as how I see what's to be the end of all their new-fangled contraptions. But it's always so ; I'm always crawling out of the little end of the horn. I began life in a comfortable sort of a way ; selling oysters out of a wheelbarrow, all clear grit, and didn't owe nobody nothing. Oysters went down slick enough for a while, but at last cellars was invented, and darn the oyster, no matter how nice it was pickled, couk poor Dill sell ; so I had to eat up capital and profits my self. Then the * pepree pot smoking' was sot up, and went ahead pretty considerable for a time ; but a parcel of fellers come into it, said my cats wasn't as good as their'n, when I know'd they was as fresh as any cats in the market ; and pepree pot was no go. Bean soup was just as bad ; people said kittens wasn't good done that way, and the more I hollered, the more the customers wouldn't come, and them what did, wanted tick. Along with the boys and their pewter fips, them what got tru&t 96 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. and didn't pay, and the abusing of my goods, I was soon fotch'd up in the victualling line — and I busted for the benefit of my creditors. But genius riz. I made a raise of a horse and saw, after being a wood-piler's prentice for a while, and working till I was free, and now here comes the coal to knock this business in the head. My people's decent people, and I can't disgrace 'em by turn- ing Charcoal Jemmy, or smashing the black stones with a pickaxe. They wouldn't let me into no society at all if I did." The idea of being excluded from the upper circles of he society in which he had been in the habit of moving, fell heavily upon the heart of poor Dilly Jones. He imagined the curled lips and scornful glances of the aris- tocratic fair, who now listened with gratification to his compliments and to his soft nonsense ; he saw himself passed unrecognised in the street — absolutely cut by his present familiar friends, and the thought of losing caste almost crushed his already dejected spirit. The workings of his imagination, combined with the fatigue of his limbs, caused such exhaustion, that, dis- lodging his horse from his shoulder, he converted it into a camp-stool, seated himself under the lee of a shop window, and, after slinging his saw petulantly at a dog, gazed with vacant eyes upon the people who occasionally passed, and glanced at him with curiosity. " Hey, mister !" said a shop-boy, at last, " I want to get shut of you, 'cause we're goin' to shet up. You're right in the way, and if you don't boom along, why Ben and me will have to play hysence, clearance, puddin's out with you afore you've time to chalk your knuckles— i won't we, Ben ?" "We'll plump him oflT of baste before he can say fliance, or get a sneak. We're knuckle dabsters, both on us. DILLY JONES. 97 You'd better emigrate — the old man's coming, and if he finds you here, he'll play the mischief with you, before you can sing out ' I'm up if you knock it and ketch.' " So saying, the two lads placed themselves one on each side of Dilly, and began swinging their arms with an ex- pression that hinted very plainly at a forcible ejectment. Dilly, however, who had forgotten all that he ever knew of the phrases so familiar to those who scientifically under- stand the profound game of marbles, wore the puzzled air of cue who labours to comprehend what is said to him. But the meaning became so apparent as not to be mis- taken, when Ben gave a sudden pull at the horse which almost dismounted the rider. *' Don't be so unfeelin'," ejaculated Dilly, as he clutch- ed the cross-bars of his seat ; " don't be unfeelin', for a man in grief is like a wood-piler in a cellar — mind how you chuck, or you'll crack his calabash." "Take care of your calabash then," was the grinning response ; " you must skeete, even if you have to cut high-dutchers with your irons loose, and that's no fun." " High-dutch yourself, if you khow how ; only go 'way from me, 'cause I ain't got no time." "Well," said the boys, "haven't we caught you Dn our payment? — what do you mean by crying here — ivhat do you foller when you're at home?" " I works in wood ; that's what I foller." " You're a carpenter, I s'pose," said Ben, winking ai Tom. " No, not exactly ; but I saws wood better nor any naif dozen loafs about the drawbridge. If it wasn't for grief, I'd give both of you six, and beat you too the best day you ever saw, goin' the rale gum and hickory — for I don't believe you're gentlemen's sons ; nothin' but poor 137 98 4 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. trash — halt* and half — want to be and can't, or you wouldn't keep a troubling of me." '* Gauley, Ben, if he isn't a wharf-rat ! If you don't trot, as I've told you a'ready, boss will be down upon you and fetch you up like a catty on a cork-line — jerk !" " That's enough," replied Dilly ; " there's more places nor one in the world — at least there is yet ; new fash- ions haven't shut up the streets yet, and obligated people to hire hackney balloons if they want to go a walkin', or omnibus boardin' houses when they want a fip's worth of dinner, or a levy's worth of sleep. Natural legs is got some chance for a while anyhow, and a man can get along if he ain't got clock-vurks to make him go. * I hope, by'm'by," added Dill scornfully, as he marched away from the chuckling lads, " that there won't be no boys to plague people. I'd vote for that new fashion myself. Boys is luisances, accordin' to me." He continued to soliloquize as he went, and his last observations were as follows : " I wonder, if they wouldn't list me for a Charlej* ? Hollering oysters and bean soup has guv' me a splendid woice ; and instead of skeering 'em away, if the thieves were to hear me singing out, my style of doing it would almost coax 'em to come and be took up. They'd feel like a bird when a snake is after it, and would walk up, and poke their coat collars right into my fist. Then, after a while, I'd perhaps be promoted to the fancy business of pig ketehing, which, though it is werry light and werry elegant, requires genus. Tisn't every man that qan come the scientifics in that line, and has studied the nature of a pig, so as to beat him at cancBuvering, and make him surrender 'cause he sees it ain't no use of doing nothing '"♦ wants laming to conwince them critters, and it's only DILLY JONES. 99 to be done by heading 'em up handsome, hopping which ever way they hop, and tripping 'em up genteel by shaking hands with their off hind leg. I'd scorn to pull their tails out by the roots, or to hurt their feelin's by dragging 'em about by the ears. ' But what's the use ? If I was listed, they'd soon find out to holler the hour and to ketch the thieves by steam ; yes, and they'd take 'em to court on a railroad, and try 'em with biling water. They'll soon have black locomotives for watchmen and constables, and big bilers for judges and mayors. Pigs will be ketched by steam, and will be biled fit to eat before they are done squealing. By and by, folks won't be of no use at all. There won't be no people in the world but tea kettles ; no mouths, but safety valves ; and no talking, but blowing off steam. If I had a little biler inside of me, I'd turn omnibus, and week- days I'd run from Kensington to the Navy Yard, and Sundays I'd run to Fairmount." ( 100) THE FLESHY ONE " 'Twas fat, not fate, by which Napoleon Hi " There is a little man in a sister city — there 6^, -esidence of Miss Scraggs, and that, by perseverance, he obtained an introduction according to etiquette. The more he saw of her the more thoroughly did he become fascinated ; but Miss Scraggs showed no disposition to receive his suit with any symptoms of favour. She scornfully rejected his addresses, chiefly because, although having no objection to a moderate degree of plumpness, his figure was much too round to square with her ideas of manly beauty and gentility of person. In vain did he plead the consuming passion, which, like the purest anthracite with the blower on, flamed in his bosom and consumed his vitals. Miss Scraggs saw no signs of spontaneous combustion in his jolly form ; and Miss Scraggs, who is " as tall and as straight as a poplar tree," declared that she could not marry a man who would hang upon her arm like a bucket to a pump. That he was not a grenadier in height might have been forgiven ; but to be short and " roly-poly" at the same time ! Miss Seraphina Scraggs could not think of it — she would (aint at the idea. Berry became almost desperate. He took lessons op 108 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. the flute, and trolled forth melancholy lays beneath the lady's casement, to try the effect of dulcet sounds upon a hard heart ; but having been informed from a neigh- bouring window that fifer-boys were not wanted in that street, and that no nuisances would be tolerated, he abandoned music in despair ; and having consulted a physician as to the best method of reducing corpulency, he went to the Gymnasium, and endeavoured to climb poles and swing upon bars for hours at a time. But the unhappy Berry made but little progress, and in his unskilful efforts having damaged his nose and caused temporary injury to the beauty of his frontispiece, he gave up the design of making himself an athlete by that species of exercise. For sparring, he found that he had no genius at all, his wind being soon exhausted, and his body being such pleasant practice that his opponents never knew when to be done hitting at one whose frame gave no jarring to the knuckles. It was, however, pic- turesque to see Berry with the gloves on, accoutred for the fray, and squaring himself to strike and parry at his own figure in the glass. Deliberation and the line of beauty were in all his movements. Not obtaining his end in this way, he tried dieting and a quarter at dancing school ; but short-commons proved too disagree- able, and his gentle agitations to the sound of the fiddle, as he chassez\l, coupez\l, jefez\U and balancez^d only increased his appetite and added to his sorrows. Be- sides, his landlady threatened to discharge him for damaging the house, and alarming the sleepers by his midnight repetitions of the lessons of the day. As he lav in bed wakeful with thought, he would suddenly, as he Happened to remember that every moment was of Amportance for the reduction of his dimensions, slide ou/ upon the floor, and make tremendous efforts at a perform THE FLESHY ONE. 109 ance of the " pigeon-wing," each thump resounding Uke the report of a cannon, and causing all the glasses in the row to rattle as if under the influence of an eartJi- quake. On one occasion indeed — it was about two o'clock in the morning — the whole house was roused by a direful, and, until then, unusual uproar in the chamber of Berry Huckel — a compound of unearthly singing and of appalling knocks on the floor. The boldest, having approached the door to listen, applied their ears to the keyhole, and heard as follows : " Turn out your toes — forward two — tol-de-rol-tiddle {thump) — tiddle {bump) — twiddle {bang!) — cross over — tiddle (ivhack) — twiddle [smack) — tiddle (crack) — twiddle {bang ly^ {Rap! rap! rap !) " Good gracious, Mr. Huckel, what's the meaning of all this ? — are you crazy ?" " No, I'm dancing — balancez! — tiddle {bump) — tiddle [thump) — tiddle [bang !y^ Orash ! splash ! went the basin-stand, and the boarders rushing in, found Berry Huckel in " the garb of old Gaul," stumbling amid the fragments he had caused by his devotions to the graces. He was in disgrace for a week, and always laboured under the imputation of having been a little non-com on that occasion ; but with love to urge him on, what is there that man will no: strive to accomplish ? Berry's dancing propensity led him to various balls and hops ; and on one of these occasions, he met Miss Scraggs in all her glory, but as disdainful as ever. After bowing to her with that respectful air, which intimated tliat the heart he carried, though lacerated by her conduct, was still warm with aflection, he took a little weak lemonade, which, as he expressed it, was the appropriate tipple for {rcntlemen in his situation, and then 110 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. placed himself immediately under the fiddlers, leaning against the wall in a despairing attitude, arms carelessly- crossed, a handkerchief dangling negligently from his little finger, his mouth half open, and his eyes now fixed with resignation upon the ceiling, and anon dropping misanthropically to the ground. The tout ensemble was touching in the extreme, but Miss Scraggs only smiled derisively when her eyes fell upon her dejected lover Berry, however, finding that this would not do, cheered himself with wine, and danced furiously at every oppor- tunity. Gracefully glided the dancers, merrily twinkled their feet, and joyously squeaked the fiddles, as Berry, late in the evening, panting with his previous Terpsi- chorean exertions, resolved to have a chat with the obdu- rate Seraphina, and solicited the honour of her fair hand for the next set. *' Mons'us warm, miss," said Berry, by way of open- ing the conversation in a novel and peculiarly elegant way, " mons'us warm, and dancing makes itmons'usser." " Very mons'us," replied Miss Scraggs, glancing at him from head to foot with rather a satirical look, for Miss Scraggs is disposed to set up for a wit; "very mons'us, indeed. But you look warm, Mr. Huckel— hadn't you better try a little punch ? It will agree with your figure." ♦ *' Punch !" exclaimed Berry, in dismay, as he started back three steps — " Oh, Judy !" He rushed to the refreshment room to cool his fever- he snatched his hat from its dusky guardian, forgetting to give him a " levy," and hurriedly departed. It was not many hours afterwards that Berry — his love undiminished, and his knowledge refreshed that gymnas- tics are a remedy against exuberance of flesh — was seei "Mons'us warm, Miss ; auJ dancing makes it mons'usser." — Book I, page 110. m THE FLESHY ONE. Ill with his hat upon a stepping stone in front of a house in Chestnut street, labouring with diligence at jumping over both the stone and the chapeau. But the heaviness of his heart seemed to rob his muscles of their elasticity. Hp. failed at each effort, and kicked his hat into the middle of the street. " Phew !" said he, " my hat will be ruinationed to all intents and purposes. Oh ! if I wasn't so fat, I might be snoozing it off at the rate of nine knots instead of tiring myself to death. Fat ain't of no use, but on the contrary. Fat horses, fat cows, and fat sheep are respected accordin', but fat men are respected disaccordin'. Folks iaugh — the gals turn up their noses, and Miss Scraggs punches my feelings with a personal insinuation. Punch ! oh my ! — It's tiresome, to be sure, to jump over this 'ere, but it's a good deal tiresomer to be so jolly you can't jump at all, and can't even jump into a lady's affeckshins. So here's at it agin. Warn'ee wunst ! warn'ee twy'st ! warn'ee three times — all the way home !' Berry stooped low, swinging his arms with a pendu- lum motion at each exclamation, and was about assuming the salient attitude of the pound of butter which Daw- kins, for want of a heavier missile, threw at his wife, v/hen he was suddenly checked by the arrival of a fellow boarder, who exclaimed, "Why, Berry, what are you at?" "Don't baulk, good man — 1 say, don't baulk — but now you have done it, can you jump over that 'ere hat, fair standing jump, with a brick in each hand — none of your long runs and hop over ? — kin you do it ? — answer me that!" queried Berry, as he blew in his hands, and then commenced flapping his arms a. la wood-sawyer. " Perhaps I might — but it won't do for us to be cutting rustics here at this time o' night. You had better sing mightv small, I tell you." 8 112 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. * Pooh ! pooh ! don't be redickalis. Tlie doctor says if I don't exercise, I'll be smothered ; and Miss Scraggs called me punch, and won't have me — I'm jumping for my life, and for my wife too." " You d better go prentice to Jeames Crow," said his friend Brom, dryly, " and learn the real scienti- fics." " It would make me laugh," replied Berry, gravely ; " such as you can afford to laugh and get fat, but I can't. I've jumped six fireplugs a' ready, and I'll jump over that 'ere hat before I go home — I'm be blowed out bigger if I don't. Now squat, Brom — squat down, and see if I go fair. Warn'ee wunst — " ** You're crazy !" answered Brom, losing all patience, " you're a downright noncompusser. I haven't seen a queerer fellow since the times of * Zacchy in the meal- bag;' and if you go on as you have lately, it's my opinion that your relations shouldn't let you run at large." " That's what I complain of — I can't run any other way than at large ; but if you'll let me alone, I'll try to jump myself smaller. So clear out, skinny, and let me practyse. Warn'ee wunst ! — " " You'd better come home, and make no bones about 1" 11. " Bones ! I ain't got any. I'm a boned turkey. If you do make me go home, you can't say you boned me. I've seen the article, but I never had any bones myself." This was, to all appearance, true enough, but his persecutor did not take the joke. Berry is, in a certain sense, good stock. He would yield a fat dividend ; but. though so well incorporated, no " bone-us" for the pri vilege is forthcoming. THE FLESHY ONE. 113 *' Yes, you're fat enough, and Vm sorry to say, you'ro queer enough too ; queer is hardly a name for you. You must be taken care of, and go home at once, or I'll call assistance." * Well, if I must, I must — that's all. But if I jret the popperplexy, and don't get Miss Scraggs, it's all your fault. You won't let me dance in my chamber — you won't let me jump over my hat — you won't let me do nothing. I can't get behind the counter to tend the custom- ers, without most backing the side of the house out ; but what do you care ? — and now you want me to get fatter by going to sleep. By drat 1 I wouldn't wonder if I was to be ten pounds heavier in the morning. If I am, in the first place, I'll charge you for widening me and spoiling my clothes ; and then — for if I get fatter, Miss Scraggs won't have me a good deal more than she won't now, and my hopes and affeckshins will be blighteder than they are at this present sitting — why, then, I'll sue you for breach of promise of marriage." " Come along. There's too many strange people running about already. It's time you were thinned oif." " That's jist exactly what I want ; I wish you could thin me off," sobbed Berry, as he obeyed the order ; but he was no happier in the morning. Miss Seraphina Scraggs continues obdurate, for her worst fears are realized. He still grows fatter, though practising " warn'ee wunst" at all convenient opportunities. 138 I 114) GARDEN THEATRICALS. Man is an imitative animal, and consequently, the distinguished success which has fallen to the lot of a few of our countrymen in the theatrical profession, has had a great effect in creating longings for histrionic honours. Of late years, debuts have been innumerable, and it would be a more difRcult task than that prescribed by Orozimbo — " to count the leaves of yonder forest" — if any curious investigator, arguing from known to unknown quantities, were to undertake the computation of the number of Roscii who have not as yet been abl to effect their coup d'essai. In this quiet city — many as she has already given to the boards — multitudes are yet to be found, burning with ardour to *' walk the plank," who, in their prospective dreams, nightly hear the timbers vocal with their mighty tread, and snuff the breath of immortality in the imaginary dust which answers to the shock. The recesses of the town could furnish forth hosts of youths who never thrust the left hand into a Sunday boot, preparatory to giving it the last polish, without jerking up the leg thereof with a Kean- like scowl, and sighing to think that it is not the well buffed gauntlet of crook'd Richard — lads, who never don their night gear for repose, without striding thus attired across their narrow dormitory, and for the nonce, be- lieving themselves accoutred to " go on" for RoUa, oi GARDEN THEATRICALS. 115 the Pythagorean of Syracuse — two gentlemen who pro- menade in " cutty sarks," and are as indifferent about rheumatism as a Cupid horsed upon a cloud. But in the times of which we speak, stage-struck heroes were rare. The theatrical mania was by no means prevalent. It went and came like the influ enza, sometimes carrying off its victims ; but they were not multitudinous. Our actors were chiefly im- portations. The day of native talent was yet in the gray of its morning — a few streakings or so, among the Tressels and Tyrells, but nothing tip-topping it in the zenith. There are, however, few generalities without an exception, and in those days, Theodosius Spoon had the honour to prove the rule by being an instance to the contrary. Theodosius Spoon — called by the waggish Tea-spoon, and supposed by his admirers to be born for a stirring fellow — one who would whirl round until he secured for himself a large share of the sugar of existence — Theo- dosius Spoon was named after a Roman emperor — not by traditional nomenclature, which modifies the effect of the thing, but directly, " out of a history book" abridged by Goldsmith. It having been ascertained, in the first place, that the aforesaid potentate, with the exception of having massacred a few thousand innocent people one day, was a tolerably decent fellow for a Roman empe- ror, he was therefore complimented by having his name bestowed upon a Spoon. It must not, however, be thought that the sponsors were so sanguine as to enter- tain a hope that their youthful charge would ever reach the purple. Their aspirations did not extend so far ; but being moderate in their expectations, they acted on the sound and well established principle that, as fine feathers make fine birds, fine names, to a certain extent, musi kl6 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. have an analogous effect — that our genius should be educed, as it were, by the appellation bestowed upon us ; and that we should be so sagaciously designated that to whatever height fortune leads, fame, in speaking of us, may have a comfortable mouthful, and we have no cause under any circumstances to blush for our name. Mr. and Mrs. Spoon — wise people in their way — rea- soned in the manner referred to. They were satisfied that a sonorous handle to one's patronymic acts like a balloon to its owner, and that an emaciated, every-day, threadbare cognomen — a Tom, Dick, and Harry denomi- nation — is a mere dipsey, and must keep a man at the bottom. Coming to the application of the theory, they were satisfied that the homely though useful qualities of the spoon would be swallowed up in the superior attributes of Theodosius. That this worthy pair were right in the abstract is a self-evident proposition. Who, tor instance, can meet with a Napoleon Bonaparte Mugg, tvithoiit feeling that w^hen the said Mugg is emptied of its spirit, a soul will have exhaled, which, had the gate of circumstance opened the way, would have played foot-ball with monarchs, and have wiped its brogues upon empires ? An Archimedes Pipps is clearly born to be a " screw," and to operate extensively with " burning glasses," if not upon the fleets of a Marcellus, at least upon his own body corporate. While Franklin Fipps, if in the mercantile line, is pretty sure to be a great flier of kites, and a speculator in vapours, and such like fancy stocks. If the Slinkums call their boy Ceesar, it follows as a natural consequence that the puggish disposition of the family nose will, in his case, gracefully curve into the aquiline, and that the family propensity for the Fabian method of getting out of a scrape, will be Cassarised into a valour, which at its very aspect would set " all Ga ' GARDEN THEATRICALS. 117 into a quake. Who can keep little Diogenes Doubikens out of a tub, or prevent him from scrambling into a hogshead, especially if sugar is to be gathered in the interior ? Even Chesterfield GrulT is half disposed to be civil, if he thinks he can gain by so unnatural a course of proceeding ; and everybody is aware that C rich ton Dunderpate could do almost any thing, if he knew how, and if, by a singular fatality, all his fingers were not thumbs. Concurrent testimony goes to prove that the son of a great man is of necessity likewise great — the children of a blanchisseuse^ or of a house-scrubber, have invariably clean hands and faces ; schoolmasters are very careful to imbue their offspring with learning; and, if we are not mistaken, it has passed into a proverb that the male pro- geny of a clergyman, in general, labour hard for the proud distinction of being called " hopeful j^ouths and promising youngsters." The corollary, therefore, flows from this, as smoothly as water from a hydrant, that he who borrows an illustrious name is in all probability charged to the hvimj ipso facto y with the qualities whereby the real owner was enabled to render it illustrious — qua- lities, which only require opportunity and the true posi- tion to blaze up in spontaneous combustion, a beacon to the world. And thus Theodosius Spoon, in his course through life, could scarcely be otherwise than, if not an antique Roman, at least an " antic rum 'un ;" his spheie of action might be circumscribed, but he could not do otherwise than make a figure. Our Spoon — his parents being satisfied with givmg him an euphonious name — was early dipped into the broad bowl of the world to spoon for himself. He was appren- ticed to a shoemaker to learn the art and mystery of stretching "uppers" and of shaping "unders." Bui. 118 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. for this employment, as it was merely useful and some- what laborious, he had no particular fancy. Whether it was owing to the influence of his name or not, we cannot pretend to say, but, like Jaffier and many other worthy individuals, he was much troubled with those serious in- conveniences termed " elegant desires." Young as he was, his talent for eating was aldermanic ; aristocracy Itself might have envied his somnolent performances in the morning : while, if fun or mischief were afoot, no watch dog could better encounter prolonged vigils, and no outlying cat could more silently and skilfully crawl in at a back window than he, when returning from his nocturnal perambulations. His genius for lounging, like- wise, when he should have been at work, was as re markable as his time-consuming power when sent on an errand. He could seem to do more, and yet perform less, than any lad of his inches in the town ; and, being ordered out on business, it was marvellous to see the swiftness with which he left the shop, and the rapidity of his im- mediate return to it, contrasted with the great amount of time consumed in the interval. With these accomplish- ments, it is not surprising that Theodosius Spoon was discontented with his situation. He yearned to be an embellishment — not a plodding letter, valuable only in combination, but an ornamental flourish, beautiful and graceful in itself; and, with that self-reliance pecu- liar to genius, he thought that the drama opened a short cut to the summit of his desires. Many a time, as he leaned his elbow on the lapstone, and reposed his chin upon his palm, did his work roll idly to the floor, while he gazed with envious eyes through the window at the playbills which graced the opposite corner, and hoped that the time would come when the first night of Theodosius Spoon would be thereupon announced in GARDEN THEATRICALS. 119 letters as large as if he were a histrionic ladle. Visions of glory — of crowded houses — of thundering plaudits — of full pockets — of pleasant nights, and of day lounges up and down Chestnut street, the wonder of little hoys and the focus of all eyes, — floated vividly across his imagina- tion. How could he, who bore the name of a Roman emperor, dream of being elsewhere that at the topmost round of fortune's ladder, when he had seen others there, who, subjected to mental comparison, were mere rush- lights compared to himselH Filled with these gorgeous imaginings, our Spoon became metamorphosed into a spout, pouring forth streams of elocution by night and by day, and, though continually corking his frontispiece to try the expression in scenes of wrath, it soon became evident that his powers could not remain bottled in a private station, When a histrionic inclination ferments so noisily that if.f fizzling disturbs the neighbourhood, it requires littl'i knowledge of chemistry to decide that it must have vent, or an explosion will be the consequence ; and such was the case in the instance of Avhich we speak. The oratorical povvers of Theodosias Spoon were truly terrible, and had become, during the occasional absence of the '* boss," familiar to every one within a square. An opportunity soon afforded itself. — Those Philadel- phians, who were neither too old nor too young, when Theodosius Spoon flourished, to take part in the amuse- ments of the town, do not require to be told that for the delectation of their summer evenings, the city then rejoiced in a Garden Theatre, which was distinguished from the winter houses by the soft Italian appellation of the Tivoli. It was located in Market near Broad street, in those days a species of rus in iirbe, improvement Dot having taken its westward movement ; and before 'l«< 120 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. brilliancy was foi ever extinguished, the establishment passed through a variety of fortunes, furnishing to the public entertainment as various, and giving to the stage many a "regular" whose first essay was made upon its boards. At this period, so interesting to all who study the history of the drama, lived one Typus Tympan, a printer's devil, who " cronied" with Spoon, and had been the first to give the " reaching of his soul" an inclination stageward. Typus worked in a newspaper office, where likewise the bills of the Garden Theatre were printed, and, par consequence^ Typus was a critic, with the entree of the establishment, and an occasional order for a friend. It was thus that Spoon's genius received the Promethean spark, and started into life. By the patron- ising attentions of Typus, he was no longer compelled to gaze from afar at the members of the company as they clustered after rehearsal, of a sunny day, in front of the theatre, and varied their smookings by transitions from the " long nine" to the real Habana, according to the condition of the treasury, or the state of the credit system. Our hero now nodded familiarly to them all, and by dint of soleing, heel-tapping, and other small jobs in the leather way, executed during the periods of " overwork" for Mr. Julius Augustus Winkins, was admitted to the personal friendship of that illustrious individual. Some idea of tlie honour thus conferred may be gathered from the fact that Mr. Winkins himself constituted the entire male department of the operatic corps of the house. He grumbled the bass, he warbled the tenor, and, when necessary, could squeak the " counter" in beautiful per i'ection. All that troubled this magazine of vocalism was that, although he could manage a duet easily enough, 'Soliloquizing a chorus was rather beyond his capacity, and GARDEN Tm:ATRlC.iLS. 121 he was, therefore, often compelled to rely upon the audience at the Garden, who, to their credit be it spoken, scarcely needed a hint upon such occasions. On opera nights, they generally volunteered their services to fill out the harmony, and were so abundantly obliging, that it was difficult to teach them where to stop. In his private capacity — when he wS,s ex oj^cio Winkins — he did the melancholico-Byronic style of man — picturesque, but *' sufferino- in his innards," — to the orreat delio;ht of all the young ladies who dv/elt in the vicinity of tlie Garden. When he walked forth, it was with his slender frame inserted in a suit of black ratlier the worse for wear, but still retaining a touching expression, softened, but not weakened, by the course of time. He wore his shirt collars turned down over a kerchief in the " fountain tie," about which there is a Tyburn pathos, irresistible to a tender heart ; and with his well oiled and raven locks puffed out en masse on the left side of his head, he declined his beaver over his dexter eye until its brim kissed the corresponding ear. A profusion of gilt chain travelled over his waistcoat, and a multitude of rings of a dubious aspect encumbered his fingers. In this inte- resting costume did Julius Auo;ustus Winkins, in his leisure moments, play the abstracted, as he leaned grace- fully against the pump, while obliquely watching the effect upon the cigar-making demoiselles who operated over the way, and who regarded Julius as quite a love, decidedly the romantic thing. Winkins was gracious to Spoon, partly on the account aforesaid, and because both Spoon and Tympan were capital claqueurs, and invariably secured him an encore, when he warbled " Love has eyes," and the other rational ditties in vogue at that period. Now it happened that business was rather dull at the 122 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. Garden, and the benefit season of course commenced. Tne hunting up of novelties was prosecuted with great vigour ; even the learned pig had starred at it for once ; and as the Winkins night approached, Julius Augustus determined to avail himself of Spoon for that occasion, thinking him likely to draw^, if he did not succeed, for in those days of primitive simplicity first appearances had not ceased to be attractive. The edge not being worn off, they were sure to be gratifying, either in one way or the other. It was of a warm Sunday afternoon that this important matter was broached. Winkins, Spoon, and Tympan sat solacing themselves in a box at the Garden, puffing their cigars, sipping their liquid refreshment, and occasionally nibbling at three crackers brought in upon a large waiter, which formed the substantial of the entertainment. The discourse ran upon the drama. " Theo, my boy !" said Winkins, putting one leg on the table, and allowing the smoke to curl about his nose, as he cast his coat more widely open, and made the accost friendly. " Spoon, my son!" said Winkins, being the advance paternal of that social warrior, as he knocked the ashes from his cigar with a flirt of his little finger. '* Spooney, my tight 'un !" — the assault irresistible, — *' how would you like to go it in uncle Billy Shakspeare, and tip the natives the last hagony in the tragics ?" Winkins put his other leg on the table, assuming an attitude both of superiority and encouragement. "Oh, gammin!" ejaculated Spoon, blushing, smiling, and putting the forefinger of his left hand into his mouth. *' Oh, get out !" continued he, casting down his eyes with the modest humility of untried, yet self-satisfied genius. GARDEN THEATRICALS. 123 " Not a bit of it — I'm as serious as an empty barn— - got the genius — want the chance — my benefit — two acts of any thing — cut mugs — up to snuff — down upon 'em — fortune made — that's the go." "It's our opinion, — we think, Theodosius," observed Typus Tympan, with editorial dignity, as he emphati- cally drew his cuff across the lower part of his counte- nance, *' we think, and the way we know what's what, because of our situation, is sing'ler — standing, as we newspaper folks do, on the shot tower of society — that now's your time for gittin' astraddle of public opinion, and for ridin' it like a boss. Jist such a chance as you've been wantin'. As the French say, all the bew mundy come to Winkins's benefit ; and if the old man won't go a puff leaded, why we'll see to havin' it sneaked in, spread so thick about genius and all, that it will draw like a blister — we will, even if we get licked for it." *' 'Twon't do," simpered Spoon, as he blushed brown, while the expression of his countenance contradicted his words. *' 'Twon't do. How am I to get a dress — s'pose boss ketches me at it? Besides, I'm too stumpy for tragedy, and anyhow I must wait till I'm cured of my cold." "It will do," returned Winkins, decisively "and tragedy's just the thing. There are, sir, varieties in tra- gedy — by the new school, it's partitioned off in two grand divisions. High tragedy of the most helevated description," (Winkins always Jiaspirated when desirous of being emphatic,) "high tragedy of the most helevated and hexalted kind should be represented by a gentleman short of statue, and low comedy should be sustained by a gentleman tall of statue. In the one case, the higher the part, the lowerer the hactor, and in the other case, wisey wersy. It makes light and shade between the 124 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. sentiment and the performer, and jogs the attention by tne power of contrast. The hintellectual style of play- ing likewise requires crooked legs." " We think, then, our friend is decidedly calkilated to walk into the public. There's a good deal of circum- bendibus about Spoon's gams — he's got serpentine trot- ters — splendid for crooked streets, or goin' round a cor- ner," interpolated Typus, jocularly. " There's brilliancy about crooked legs," continued Winkins, with a reproving glance at Typus. " The mo- notony of straight shanks answers well enough for genteel comedy and opera ; but corkscrew legs prove the mind to be too much for the body ; therefore, crooked legs, round shoulders, and a shovel nose for the heccentrici- ties of the hintellectual tragics. Audiences must have it queered into 'em ; and as for a bad cold, why it's a professional blessing in that line of business, and saves a tragedian the trouble of sleeping in a wet shirt to get a sore throat. Blank verse, to be himpressive, must be iVogged — it must be groaned, grunted, and gasped — bring It out like a three-pronged grinder, as if body and soul were parting. There's nothing like asthmatic elocution and spasmodic emphasis, for touching the sympathies and setting the feelings on edge. A terrier dog in a pucker is a good study for anger, and always let the spectators see that sorrow hurts you. There's another style of tra- gedy — the physical school — " *' That must be a dose," ejaculated Typus, who was developing into a wag. " But you're not big enough, or strong enough for that. A physical must be able to outmuscle ten black- smiths, and bite the head off a poker. He must com mence the play hawfully, and keep piling on the hagony till the close, when he must keel up in an hexcruciating GARDEN THEATRICALS. 125 manner, flip-flopping it about the stage as he defuncts, .ike a new caught sturgeon. He should be able to hago- nize other people too, by taking the biggest fellow in the company by the scuff of the neck, and shaking him at arm's length till all the hair drops from his head, and then pitch him across, with a roar loud enough to break tlie windows. That's the menagerie method. The phy- sical must always be on the point of bursting his boiler, yet he mustn't burst it ; he must stride and jump as if he would tear his trousers, yet he mustn't tear 'em ; and when he grabs anybody, he must leave the marks of his paws for a week. It's smashing work, but it won't do for you. Spooney ; you're little, black-muzzled, queer in tlie legs, and have got a cold ; nature and sleeping with the windows open have done wonders in making you fit for the hintellectuals, and you shall tip 'em the senti- mental in Hamlet." Parts of this speech were not particularly gratifying to Spoon ; but, on the whole, it jumped with his desires, and the matter was clinched. Winkins trained him ; taught him when and where to come the " hagony ;" when and where to cut " terrific mugs" at the pit ; when and where to wait for the applause, and how to chassez an exit, with two stamps and a spring, and a glance en arriere. Not long after, the puff appeared as Typus promised. The bills of the " Garden Theatre" announced the Winkins benefit, promising, among other novelties, the third act of Hamlet, in which a young gentleman, his first appearance upon any stage, would sustain the cha- racter of the melancholy prince. Rash promise I fatal anticipation ! The evening arrived, and the Garden was crowded. All the boys of the trade in town assembled to witness 126 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. the dehut of a brother chip, and many came because others were coming. Winkins, in a blue military frock, but- toned to the chin, white pantaloons strapped under the foot, and gesticulating with a shining black hat with white lining, borrowed expressly for the occasion, had repeated " My love is like the red, red rose" with immense applause, when the curtain rang up, and the third act began. The tedious prattle of those who preceded him being over, Theodosius Spoon appeared. Solemnly, yet with parched lips and a beating heart, did he advance to the footlights, and duck his acknowledgments for the applause which greeted him. His abord, however, did not impress his audience favourably. The black attire but ill became his short squab figure, and the " hintellectual Cragicality of his legs," meandering their brief extent, 'ike a Malay creese, gave him the aspect of an Ethiopian Bacchus dismounted from his barrel. Hamlet resembled the briefest kind of sweep, or " an erect black tadpole takinor snuff." With a fidelity to nature never surpassed, Hamlet expressed his dismay by scratching his head, and, with his eyes fixed upon his toes, commenced the soliloquy, — another beautiful conception, — for the prince is supposed to be speaking to himself, and his toes are as well entitled to be addressed as any other portion of his per- sonal identity. This, however, was not appreciated by the spectators, who were unable to hear any part of tlie confidential communication going on between Hamlet's extremities. " Louder, Spooney !" squeaked a juvenile voice, with 3 villanous twang, from a remote part of the Garden. * Keep a ladling it ou<. strong ! Who's afeard ? — it's only old Tiwoly !" GARDEN THEATRICALS. 127 " Throw it out !" whispered Winkins, from the wing '* Go it like a pair of bellowses !" But still the pale lips of Theodosius Spoon continued quivering nothings, as he stood gasping as if about to swallow the leader of the fiddlers, and alternately raising his hands like a piece of machinery. Ophelia advanced. " Look out, bull-frog, there comes your mammy. Please, ma'am, make little sonny say his lesson." Bursts of laughter, shouts, and hisses resounded through the Garden. " Whooror for Spooney !" roared his friends, as they endeavoured to create a diversion in his favcur — " whooror for Spooney ! and wait till the skeer is worked off uv him !" "How vu'd you like it?" exclaimed an indignant Spooneyite to a hissing malcontent; "how vu'd you ^ike it fur to have it druv' into you this 'ere vay ? Vot kin a man do ven he ain't got no chance ?" As the hisser did but hiss the more vigorously on account of the remonstrance, and, jumping up, did it directly in the teeth of the remonstrant, the friend to Spooney knocked him down, and the parqiiette was soon in an uproar. " Leave him up !" cried one — " Order ! put 'em down, and put 'em out !" The aristocracy of the boxes gazed complacently upon the grand set-to btneath them, the boys whacked away with their clubs at the lamps, and hurled the fragments upon the stage, while Ophelia and Hamlet ran away together. " Ladies and gentlemen," exclaimed Winkins, as he rushed upon the stage, dragging after him " the rose and the expectancy of the fair state," the shrinking Theo- dosius, — " will you hear me for a moment?" " Hurray for Vinkins !" replied a brawny critic, taking his club in both hands, as he hammered against he front of the boxes ; " Vinkey, sing us the Bay uv 9 128 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. Viskey, and make bull-frog dance a hornspike to the tune uv it. Hurray ! Twig Vinkey's new hat — make a speech, Vinkey, fur your vite trousers !" At length, comparative silence being restored, Mr. Winkins, red with wrath, yet suppressing his rage, delivered himself as follows — at times adroitly dodging the candle ends, which had been knocked from the main chandelier, and were occasionally darted at him and his protege. " Ladies and gentlemen, permit me {dodge) respect- fully to ask one question. Did you {dodge) come here to admire the beauties of the drama, (successive dodges to the right and left,) or am I to {dodge, dodge) to under- stand that you came solely to kick up a bloody row ?" The effect of this insinuating query had scarcely time to manifest itself, before Monsieur le direct eur en chef, a choleric Frenchman, who made a profitable mixture of theatricals, ice cream, and other refreshments, suddenly appeared in the flat, foaming with natural anger at the results of the young gentleman's debut. Advancing rapidly as the " kick" rang upon his ear, he suited the action to the word, and, by a dexterous application of his foot, sent Winkins, in the attitude of a flying Mercury, clear of the orchestra, into the midst of the turbulent crowd in the pit. Three rounds of cheering followed this achievement, while Theodosius gazed in pallid horror at the active movement of his friend. "Kick, aha! Is zat de kick, monsieur dam hoom boog ? Messieurs et mesdames, lick him good — sump him into fee-penny beets ! Sacre !" added the enraged manager, turning toward Theodosius, "I sail lick de petit hoomboog ver' good — sump him bon, nice, moi meme — by me ownsef." But the alarmed Theodosius, though no linguist, GARDEN THEATRICALS. 129 understood enough of this speech not to tarry for the consequences, and climbing into the boxes, while the angry manager clambered after him, he rushed through the crowd, and in the royal robes of Denmark hurried home. For the time, at least, he was satisfied that bearing the name of a Roman emperor did not lead to instant success on the stage, and though he rather reproached the audience with want of taste, it is not probable that he ever repeated the attempt ; for he soon, in search of an *' easy life," joined the patriots on the Spanish main, and was never after heard of. 139 C 130 ) PETER BRUSH, THE GREAT USED UP. It was November ; soon after election time; when a considerable portion of the political world are apt to be despondent, and external things appear to do their utmost to keep them so. November, the season of dejection, when pride itself loses its imperious port ; when ambi- tion gives place to melancholy ; when beauty hardly takes the trouble to look in the glass ; and when exist- ence doffs its rainbow hues, and wears an aspect of such dull, commonplace reality, that hope leaves the world for a temporary excursion, and those who cannot do without her inspiring presence, borrow the aid of pistols, cords, and chemicals, and send themselves on a longer journey, expecting to find her by the way : — a season, when the hair will not stay in curl ; when the walls weep dewy drops, to the great detriment of paper-hangings, and of every species of colouring with which they are adorned ; when the banisters distil liquids, any thing but beneficial to white gloves ; when nature fills the ponds, and when window-washing is the only species of amusement at all popular among housekeepers. It was on the worst of nights in that worst of seasons. The atmosphere was in a condition of which it is difficult to speak with respect, much as we may be disposed to applaud the doings of nature. Il was damp, foggy, and PETER BRUSH. 131 drizzling ; to sum up its imperfections in a sonorous an J descriptive epithet, it was '* 'orrid muggy weather." The air hung about the wayfarer in warm, unhealthy folds, and extracted the starch from his shirt collar and from the bosom of his dickey, with as much rapidity as it rob- bed his spirits of their elasticity, and melted the sugar of self-complacency from his mind. The street lamps emitted a ghastly white glare, and were so hemmed in with vapory wreaths, that their best efforts could not project a ray of light three feet from the burner. Gloom was universal, and any change, even to the heat of Africa, or to the frosts of the arctic circle, would, in compari- son, have been delightful. The pigs' tails no longer waved in graceful sinuosities ; while the tail of each night-roving, hectoring bull-dog ceased flaunting toward the clouds, a banner of wrath and defiance to punier crea- tures, and hung down drooping and dejected, an emblem of a heart little disposed to quarrel and offence. The ornamentals of the brute creation being thus below par, it was not surprising that men, with cares on their shoul- ders and raggedness in their trousers, should likewise be more melancholy than on occasions of a brighter character. Every one at all subject to the " skiey influ- ences," who has had trouble enough to tear his clothes, and to teach him that the staple of this mundane exist- ence is not exclusively made up of fun, has felt that phi- losophy is but a barometrical affair, and that he who is proof against sorrow when the air is clear and bracing, may be a very miserable wretch, with no greater cause, when the wind sits in another quarter. Peter Brushes a man of this susceptible class^ .^ His nervous system is of the most delicate organization, and responds to the changes of the weather, as an Eolian harp sings to the fitful swellings of the breeze. Peter 132 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. was abroad on the night of which we speak ; either because, unlike the younger Brutus, he had no Portia near to tell him that such exposure was " not physical," and that it was the part of prudence to go to bed, or that, although aware of the dangers of miasma to a man of his constitution, he did not happen at that precise moment lo have access to either house or bed ; in his opinion, two essential pre-requisites to couching himself, as he regarded taking it al fresco, on a cellar door, not likely to answer any sanitary purpose. We incline ourselves to the opinion that he was in the dilemma last mentioned, as it had previously been the fate of other great men. But be that as k may, Mr. Peter Brush was in the street, as melancholy as an unbraced drum, " a gib-ed cat, or a lugged bear." Seated upon the curb, with his feet across the gutter, he placed his elbow on a stepping-stone, and like Juliet on the balcony, leaned his head upon his hand— ^a hand that would perhaps have been the better of a covering, though none would have been rash enough to volunteer to be a glove upon it. He was in a dilapidated condition — out at elbows, out at knees, out of pocket, out of office, out of spirits, and out in the street — an " out and outer" in every respect, and as outre a mortal as ever the eye of ;iian did rest upon. For some time, Mr. Brush's reflec- tions had been silent. Following Hamlet's advice, he *'gave them an understanding, but no tongue ;" and he relieved himself at intervals by spitting forlornly into the kenrcl. At length, suflfering his locked hands to fall betw. OR, THE PRIDE OF MUfcJCLE. 1 Nature too frequently forgets to infuse the sympathies nto the composition of the human race, and hence the world is afflicted with a flood of evils. Imperfect as mankind may be in a physical point of view, their moral defects are immeasurably greater, and these chiefly flow from the dearth of sympathy. Social off'ences, as well as crimes, are in general born from this cause, and the sins of humanity are to be charged upon selfishness, the weed that chokes all wholesome plants in the garden of the heart, and exhausts the soil. It manifests itself in a variety of ways. In one instance, being combined with other essentials, it makes a mighty conqueror ; in another, a petty larcenist ; one man beats his wife and sots at an alehouse ; another sets the world in a blaze, and dying, becomes the idol of posterity ; all from the same cause— a mind concentred on itself. The forms which govern society were intended to counteract the aforesaid neglect of dame nature, and to keep selfishness in check ; it having been early dis- covered that if every one put his fingers in the dish at once, a strong chance existed that the contents thereof would be spilt, and all would be compelled to go home hungry. It was equally clear that if each individual THE CROOKED DISCIPLE. 195 tucked up his coat tails, and endeavoured to monopolize the fire, the whole company would be likely to catch cold. The canon was therefore issued that " after you'* should be " manners ;" and that, however anxious one may be to get the biggest piece, he should not obey the promptings of nature by making a direct grab ; but rather effect his object by indirect management — such as placing the desired morsel nearest himself, and then handing the plate — a species of hocus pocus, which puts the rest of the company in the vocative, and enables the skill of civilization quietly to effect that which in earlier times could only be accomplished by superior force, and at the hazard of upsetting the table. If sympathy were the growth of every mind, politeness and deference would be spontaneous ; but as it is not, a substitute — a sort of wooden leg for the natural one — was invented, and hence ** dancing and manners" are a part of refined education. Wine glasses are placed near the decanter, and tumblers near the pitcher, that inclination may receive a broad hint, and that the natural man may not rob the rest of the company of their share of comfort, by catching up and draining the vessels at a draught. Chairs stand near the dinner table to intimate that, however hungry one may be, it is not the thing to jump upon the board, and, clutching the whole pig, to gnaw it as a school-boy does an apple ; while plates, with their attendant knives and forks, show that each one must be content with a portion, and use his pickers and stealers as little as possible. To get along smoothly, it was also ordained that we must smile when it would be more natural to tumble the intruder out of the window ; and that no matter how tired we may be, we must not, when another is about taking our seat, pull it from under him, and allow him to bump on tiie floor. 196 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. Although education has done much to supply deficien- cies, and to make mock sympathy out of calves' heads when the real article is not to be found, yet education, potent as it is, cannot do all things. " Crooked disciples" will exist from time to time, and to prove it, let the story b3 told of Jacob Grigsby. Of crooked disciples, Jacob Grigsby is the crookedest. His disposition is twisted like a ram's horn, and none can tell in what direction will be the next turn. He is an independent abstraction — one of that class, who do not seem aware that any feelings are to be consulted but their own, and who take the last bit, as if unconscious that it is consecrated to that useful divinity " manners ;" lads, who always run in first when the bell rings, and cannot get their boots oflf when any body tumbles over- board ; who, when compelled to share their bed with another, lie in that engrossing posture called " catty- cornered," and when obliged to rise early, whistle, sing and dance, that none may enjoy the slumbers denied to them ; — in short, he strongly resembles that engaging species of the human kind, who think it creditable to talk loud at theatres and concerts, and to encore songs and concertos which nobody else wants to hear. Grigs- by was born with the idea that the rest of the world, animate or inanimate, was constructed simply for his special amusement, and that if it did not answer the pur- pose, it was his indefeasible right to declare war against the offender. When a boy, he was known as a " real limb" — of what tree it is unnecessary to specify. He was an adept in placing musk melon rinds on the pave- ment for the accommodation of those elderly gentlemen whose skating days were over, and many a staid matron received her most impressive lessons in ground and loftj THE CROOKED DISCIPLE. 197 tumbling, by the aid of cords which he had stretched across the way. "Every child in the neighbourhood learnt to " see London" through his telescope, and he was famous for teaching youngsters to write hog Latin by jerking pens full of ink through their lips. At school he was remarkable for his science in crooking pins, and lAacing them on the seats of the unsuspicious, and ever since he has continued to be a thorn in the side of those who are unlucky enough to come in contact with him. Grigsby has now grown to man's estate — a small pro- perty in most instances, and in his it must be simply the interest of his whiskers, which extend some inches be- yond his nose and chin — he having nothing else clear of embarrassment. He is said to be more of a limb than ever, his unaccommodating spirit having increased with his trunk. The good qualities which were to appear in him are yet in the soil, no sprouts having manifested themselves. He is savagely jocular in general, and jo- cosely quarrelsome in his cups in particular. He stands like a bramble in life's highway, and scratches the cuticle from all that passes. This amiable individual is particularly fond of culti- vating his physical energies, and one of his chief delights is in the display of his well practised powers. He some- times awakens a friend from a day dream, by a slap on the shoulder which might be taken for the blow of a can- non ball. His salutation is accompanied by a grasp of your hand, so vigorously given that you are painfully reminded of his affectionate disposition and the strength of his friendship for a week afterwards ; and he smiles to see his victims writhe under a clutch which bears no little resemblance in its pressure to the tender embrace of a smith's vice. To this Herculean quality Grigsby always recurs with satisfaction, and indeed it must be 198 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. confessed that superiority, either real or imagined, is a great source of pleasure in this mundane sphere. There are few who do not derive satisfaction from believing that, in some respect, they are more worthy than their neighbours — and self-love, if the truth were known, per- forms many curious operations to enable its possessor to enjoy the delight of thinking that there are points in which he is unsurpassed. Should his countenance be of the most unprepossessing cast, he gazes in the mirror until convinced that whatever is lost in beauty, is gained in expression. Should he have a temper as rash and un- reasonable as the whirlwind, it is to him but a proof of superior susceptibility and of an energetic will ; if thin, he is satisfied that he possesses a free unencumbered spirit ; and if nature has provided him with a super abundance of flesh, he comforts himself with the idea of an imposing aspect, and of being able, physically at least, to make a figure in the world. The melancholy man, instead of charging his nervous system with treachery, or his stomach with disaff'ection, finds a stream of sun- shine in his gloom, from the impression that it is left to him alone to see reality divested of its deceptive hues— and smiles sourly on the merry soul who bears it as if existence were a perpetual feast, and as if he were a but- terfly upon an ever-blooming prairie. The pride of art likewise comes in as a branch of this scheme of universal comfort. The soldier and the poli- tician rejoice in their superior skill in tactics and strate- gic — and even if foiled, charge the result upon circum- stances beyond their control ; while even the scavenger plumes himself upon the superior skill and accuracy with which he can execute the fancy work of sweeping round a post : but none feel the pride of which we speak more strongly than those who are addicted to the practice of THE CROOKED DISCIPLE. 199 ^'mnastics. They have it in every muscle of Iheir frames ; their very coats are buttoned tight across the breast to express it ; and it is exhibited on every possible occasion. In their dwellings, wo upon the tables and chairs — and they cannot see a pair of parallels or cross bars without experimenting upon them. At a period when Grigsby was in the full flush of his gymnastic powers, he returned from a supper late at night, with several companions. After Grigsby had created much polite amusement by torturing several dogs and sundry pigs, they attempted a serenade, but they were not in voice ; and after trying a cotillion and a ga- lopade in front of the State House, which were not quite so well executed as might have been desired, they sepa- rated, each to his home — if he could get there. Grigsby strolled along humming a tune, until his eye happen- ed to be greeted by the welcome sight of an awning-post. He stopped, and regarded it for a long time with critical gravity. " This will answer famously," said he. *' Tom brags that he can beat me with his arms ; but I don't believe it. Any how, his legs are no great shakes. There's no more muscle in them than there is in an unstarched shirt collar ; and I don't believe, if he was to practise for ten years, he could hang by his toes, swing up and catch hold. No, that he couldn't ; I'm the bo}-, and I'll exer- cise at it." It is however much easier to resolve than to execute. Mr. Grigsby found it impossible to place himself in the requisite antipodean posture. "Why, what the deuse is the matter? All the supper must have settled down in my toes, for my boots feel hpavier than fifty-sixes. My feet are completely obfus- cated, W'hile my head is as clear as a bell. But ' never 200 OHARCOAL SKETCHES. despair' is tlie motto — here's at it once more," continued he, making another desperate but ineffectual effort. An individual with a white hat and with his hands deeply immersed in the pockets of his shooting jacket, now advanced from the tree against which he had been leaning, while chuckling at the doings of Mr. Grigsby. " Hay, whiskers, what's the fun in doing that, parti- cularly when you can't do it?" said he. " Can you hang by your toes, stranger? Because if you can, you'll beat Tom, in spite of his bragging." " I don't believe I can. The fact is, I always try to keep this side up with care. I never could see the use of shaking a man up like a bottle of physic. I can mix my- self to my own taste without that." " You've no taste for the fine arts, whatever you may have for yourself. Gymnastics stir up the sugar of a man's constitution, and neutralize the acids. Without 'em, he's no better than a bottle of pepper vinegar — nothing but sour punch." " Very likely, but I'll have neither hand nor foot in hanging to an awning-post. If it was like the brewer's horse in Old Grimes, and you could drink up all the beer by turning your head where your feet should be, perhaps I might talk to you about it." Grigsby, hov/ever, by dint of expatiating on the bene- ficial tendency of gymnastics, at last prevailed upon the stranger to make the attempt. " Now," said he, "let me bowse you up, and if you can hang by your toes, I'll treat handsome." '* Well, I don't care if I do," replied the stranger with a grin, as he gi-asped the cross-bar — " hoist my hee^s and look sharp." Jacob chuckled as he took the stranger by the boots intending to give him a fall if possible, and to thrash him I THE CROOKED DISCIPLE. 201 if he grumbled; but the victim's hold was insecure, and he tumbled heavily upon his assistant, both rolling on the bricks together. " Fire and tow !" ejaculated Grigsby. ** Now we're mixed nicely," grunted the stranger, as he scrambled about. " If any man gets more legs and arms than belong to him, they're mine. Hand over the odd ones, and let's have a complete set." ' This will never do," said Grigsby, after they had regained their feet, and still intent on his design. "It will never do in the world— you're so confoundedly awkward. Come, have at it again ; once more and the last." " Young people," interposed a passing official, " if you keep a cutting didoes, I must talk to you both like a Dutch uncle. Each of you must disperse ; I can't allow no insurrection about the premises. If you ain't got no dead-latch key, and the nigger won't set up, why I'll take you to the corporation free-and-easy, and lock you up till daylight, and we'll fetch a walk after breakfast to converse with his honour on matters and things in general." "Very well," answered Grigsby— " but now you've made your speech, do you think you could hang by your toes to that post?" " Pooh ! pooh ! don't be redikalis. When matters is solemn, treat 'em solemn." " Why, I ain't redikalis — we're at work on science. I'm pretty well scienced myself, and I want to get more so." " Instead of talking, you'd better paddle up street like a white-head. Go home to sleep like your crony— see how he shins it." " I will," said Grigsby, who likes a joke occasionally, 202 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. and is very good humoured when it is not safe to be otherwise — " I will, if you'll tell me what's the use. In the first place, home's a fool to this — and as for sleeping, it's neither useful nor ornamental." " Do go, that's a good boy — I don't want to chaw you right up, but I must if you stay." ** I snore when I'm asleep — and when I do, Torn puts his foot out of bed till it's cold, and then claps it to my back. He calls it firing me off on the cold pressure principle." " What a cruel Tom ! But why don't you keep your mouth shut ? You should never wear it open when you're asleep." " If I did, my dreams would get smothered. Besides, I like to look down my throat, to see what I'm thinking about." *' Don't quiz me, young man. Some things is easy to put up with, and some things isn't easy to put up v/ith; and quizzing a dignittery is one of the last. If there is any thing I stands upon, it's dignitty." *' Dignitty made of pipe-stems, isn't it ?" *' My legs is pretty legs. They ain't so expressive as some what's made coarser and cheaper ; but they're slim and genteel. But legs are neither here nor there. You must go home, sonny, or go with me." *' Well, as I'm rather select in my associations, and never did admire sleeping thicker than six in abed at the outside, I'll go home, put a woollen stocking on Tom's foot, and take a pint of sleep : I never try more, for my constitution won't stand it. But to-morrow I'll sv/ing by my toes, I promise you." " Go, then. Less palaver and more tortle." " Tortelons nous — good night ; I'm ofl'to my /i7." The censor morum wrapping himself in his conse- THE CROOKED DISCIPLE. 203 quence, paused, looked grave until Grigsby turned the corner, and then, relaxing his dignitty, laughed creak- ingly, like a rusty door. " Hee ! hee ! hee ! — that's a real fine feller. He's too good for his own good— makes something of a fuss every night — always funny or fighting, and never pays his debts. Hee ! hee ! hee ! a real gentleman — gives me half a dol- lar a New Year's — a real — past two o'clock and a cloudy morning ! — sort of a gentleman, and encourages our busi- ness like an emperor, only I haven't got the heart to take advantage of it." * * ^ * * Jacob Grigsby moved homeward, his temper souring as he proceeded and as the pleasant excitement of the even- ing began to wear off. Some people, by the way, are always good humoured abroad, and reserve their savage traits for home consumption. Of this class is Grigsby. Where he boards, the rule is to stow thick — three in a bed when the weather is warm, and, in the colder season, by way of saving blankets, four in a bed is the rule. Now, even three in a bed is by no means a pleasant arrangement at the best, when the parties are docile in their slumbers, and lie " spoon fashion," all facing the same way, and it is terrible if one of the triad be of an uneasy disposition. Grigsby's " pardeners," however, are quiet lads, and there is an understanding among the three that turn about shall be the law in regard to the middle place, which therefore falls to his share every third week — one week in, and two weeks out — the soft never to be monopolized by any one individual, and nobody to turn round more than once in the course of the night. Grigsby is borne down by the majority ; but when it is his week in, he is worse than the armed rhinoceros or the Hyrcan tiger, so ferocious are his ebullitions of wrath. 204 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. It happened to be his week *' in," the thought whereof moved his ire, and he ascended the stairs with the energetic tread of an ox, set fire to the cat's tail with the candle, and poked a long nine down Carlo's throat. " Ha !" said Jacob, as he kicked open the door, sur- veyed his sleeping bedfellows, and flashed the light in their eyes — " mighty comfortable that, anyhow ; but I'll soon spoil it, or I'm not a true Grigsby." He put out the light, and in full dress — boots, hat, great coat, body coat, and pantaloons — muddy as he was, scrambled over the bed two or three times, until he es- tablished himself in the central station between his co mates. He rolled and he tossed, he kicked and he groaned, until the whole concern were as v/ide awake as himself. *' Why, Jacob, you've got your boots on," said they. " The fact is, fellows, the cold in my head is getting ■worse, and sleeping in boots draws down the inflamma- tion. It's a certain cure." " But you don't intend sleeping with your hat on your iiead, do you ?" '• Didn't I tell you I've got holes- in my stockings ? If 1 don't keep my hat on, I'll be sure to have the rheuma tism in my big toe." *' Well, we won't stand it, no how it can be fixed." *' Just as you like — go somewhere else — I've no ob jection. I'm amazing comfortable." *' Why, thunder and fury !" said one, jerking up his leg, "your boots are covered with mud." *' That are a fact — you've no idea how muddy the streets are — I'm all over mud — I wish you'd blow up the corporation. But hang it, give us a fip's worth of sheet and a 'levy s worth of blanket. That's the way I like 'em mixed — some lean and a good deal of fat." So saying, Jacob wound himself up in the bed-clothes THE CROOKED DISCIPLE. 205 with a prodigious flounder, denuding his companion8 entirely. Grigsby's co-mates however, knowing that " who would be free, themselves must strike the blow," declared war against the manifold outrages of their oppressor, and, notwithstanding his gymnastic powers, succeeded in obtaining the mastery. Much enraged, they resolved upon carrying him down stairs and placing him under the hydrant as a punishment for his violations of the social compact, and were proceeding to put their de- termination in force, when Bobolink and the rest of ihe boarders, alarmed at the noise, popped out of their cham- bers. "What's the fraction — vulgar or decimal ?" said Bobo- link. "Vengeance!" panted Grigsby — "revenge! I'm in- sulted — let me go !" The cause of quarrel was explained — all cried shame upon Mr. Jacob Grigsby, and Mr. Bobolink constituted nimself judge on the occasion. " They kicked me !" roared the prisoner. " Yes," replied Bobolink, " but as they hadn't their Doots on, it wasn't downright Mayor's court assault and battery — only an insult with intent to hurt — assault and battery in the second degree — a species of accidental homicide. Perhaps you were going down stairs, and tney walked too quick after you — toeing it swift, and 'mosi walked into you. What was it for ?" " Look ye," said Grigsby — " it's very late — yes, it's nearly morning, and I didn't take time to fix myself for a regular sleep, so I turned in like a trooper's horse, and that's the whole matter." " Like a trooper's horse — how's that?" "I'll explain,** said one of the spectators — "to turn 206 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. in like a troopers horse is to go to bed all standing, ready for a sudden call — parade order — winter uniform-^ full dress — a very good fashion when you've been out to supper — convenient in case of fire, and saves a deal of trouble in the morning when you're late for breakfast." " Well, I never heard tell of the likes on the part of a white man. They servedyou right, and my judgment is, as you won't be quiet, that you be shut in the back-cellar till breakfast time. I'm not going to have any more row. If you don't like it, you can appeal afterwards." " Never heerd the likes !" said Jacob contemptu ously ; " ain't abed a bed — ain't my share of it, my share of it ? — and where's the law that lays down what sort of clothes a man must sleep in ? I'll wear a porcupine jacket, and sleep in it too, if I like — yes, spurs, and a trumpet, and a spanner." " Put him in the cellar," was the reply, and in spite of his struggles the sentence was laughingly enforced. " Bobolink, let's out, or I'll burst the door — let's out-^ I want vengeance !" " Keep yourself easy — you can't have any vengeance till morning. Perhaps they'll wrap some in a bit of paper, and keep it for you." But in the morning Grigsby disappeared, and retuined no more ( 207 ) FYDGET FYXINGTON. The illustrious Pangloss, who taught the metanhy- 8ico-theologo-cosmolo-nigology at the Westphalian cha- teau of the puissant Baron Thundertentronckh, held it as a cardinal maxim of his philosophy, que tout est au mieux ; that "it's all for the best." Pangloss was therefore what is called an optimist, and discontent — to use the favourite word of the slang-whangers — was repudiated by him gnd his followers. This doctrine, however, though cherished in the abstract, is but little practised out of the domain of Thundertentronckh. The world is much more addicted to its opposite. " All's for the worst" is a very common motto, and under its influ- ence there are thousands who growl when they go to bed, and growl still louder when they get up ; they growl at their breakfast, they growl at their dinner, they grov/1 at theii supper, and they growl between meals. Discontent is written in every feature of their visage ; and they go on from the beginning of life until its close, always growl- ing, in the hope of making things better by scaring them into it with ugly noises. These be your passive grum- bletonians. When the castle was on fire, Sir Abel Handy stood wringing his hands, in expectation that the fire would be civil enough to go out of itself. So is it with the passive. He would utter divers maledictions upoii the heat, but would sit still to see if the flame could not be scolded into gohig out of itself. 14 208 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. The active grumbletonians, however, though equally opposed in practice to the metaphysico-theologo-cos- molo-nigology, are a very different race of mortals from the passives. The world is largely indebted to them for every comfort and convenience with which it abounds ; and they laugh at the inquiry whether their exertions have conduced to the general happiness, holding it tha* happiness consists chiefly in exertion — to which the pas- sives demur, as they look back with no little regret to the lazy days of pastoral life, when Chaldean shepherds lounged upon the grass. The actives are very much inclined to believe that whatever is, is wrong; bul then they have as an offset, the comfortable conviction that they are able to set it right — an opinion which fire cannot melt out of them. These restless fellows are in a vast majority ; and hence it is that the surface of this earthly sphere is such a scene of activity ; hence it is that for so many thousand years, the greater part of each generation has been unceasingly employed in labour and bustle ; rushing from place to place ; hammering, sawing, and driving ; hewing down and piling up mountains ; and unappalled, meeting disease and death, both by sea and land. To expedite the process of putting things to rights, likewise, hence it is that whole hecatombs of men have been slaughtered on the embattled field, and that the cord, the fagot, and the steel have been in such frequent de mand. Sections of the active grumbletonians sometimes differ about the means of making the world a more com- fortable place, and time being short, the labour-saving process is adopted. The weaker party is knocked on the head. It saves an incalculable deal of argument, and answers pretty nearly the same end. But yet, though the world is many years old, and the *' fixing process" has been going -on ever sincf, it FYDGET FYXINGTON. 209 emerged from chaos, it seems that much remains undone, with less time to do it in. The actives consequently redouble their activity. They have calleJ in the aid of gunpowder and steam, and in this goodly nineteenth cen- tury are kicking up such a terrible dust, and are setting things to rights at such a rate, that the passives have no comfort of their lives. Where they herd in nations, as in Mexico, the actives cluster on their borders and set things to rights with the rifle ; and when they are solitary amid the crowd, as among us, they are fretted to fiddlestrings, like plodding shaft horses with unruly leaders. They are environed with perils. In one quarter, hundreds of stately mansions are brought thundering to the ground, because the last generation put things to rights in the wrong way, and in another quarter, thousands are going up on the true principle. Between them both, the pas- sive is kept in a constant state of solicitude, and threads his way through piles of rubbish, wearing his head askew like a listening chicken, looking above with one eye, to watch what may fall on him, and looking below with the other, to see what he may fall upon. Should he travel, he is placed in a patent exploding steamboat, warranted to boil a gentleman cold in less than no time ; or he is tied to the tail of a big steam kettle, termed a locomotive, which goes sixty miles an hour horizontally, or if it should meet impediment, a mile in half a second perpendicularly. Should he die, as many do, of fixo-phobia, and seek pecce under the sod, the spirit of the age soon grasps the spade and has him out to make way for improvement. The passive grumbletonian is useless to himself and to others : the active grumbletonian is just the reverse. In general, he combines individual advancement M'ith public prosperity ; but there are exceptions even in that class — men, who try to take so much care of the world 144 210 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. that they lorget themselves, and, of course, fail in their intent. Such a man is Fydget Fyxington, an amelioration- of-the-human-race-by-starling-from-first-principles-phiio- sopher. Fydget's abstract principle, particularly in matters of government and of morals, is doubtless a sound rule ; but he looks so much at the beginning that he rarely arrives at the end, and when he advances at all, he marches backward, his face being directed to- ward the starting place instead of the goal. By thin means he may perhaps plough a straight furrow, but in- stead of curving round obstructions, he is very apt to be thrown down by them. Like most philosophers who entertain a creed opposed to that of the illustrious Pangloss, Fydget may be fitly designated as the fleshless one. He never knew the joy of being fat, and is one of those who may console them- selves with the belief that the physical sharpness which renders them a walking chevaux de frise, and as danger- ous to embrace as a porcupine, is but an outward emblem of the acuteness of the mind. Should he be thrust in a crowd against a sulky fellow better in flesh than himself, who complains of the pointedness of his attentions, Fyd- get may reflect that even so do his reasoning faculties bore into a subject. When gazing in a mirror, should his eye be off'ended by the view of lantern jaws, and channelled cheeks, and bones prematurely labouring to escape from their cuticular tabernacle, he may easily figure to himself the restless energy of his spirit, which like a keen blade, weareth away the scabbard — he may look upon himself as an intellectual " cut and thrust" — a thinking chopper and stabber. But it may be douSted whether Fydget ever reverts to considerations so purely selfish, except when he finds that the "fine points" of I FYDGET FYXINGTON. 211 his figure are decidedly injurious to wearing apparel and tear his clothes. '^ V V * V '''r Winter ruled the hour when Fydget Fyxington was last observed to be in circulation — winter, when men wear their hands in their pockets and seldom straighten their backs — a season however, which, though sharp and biting in its temper, has redeeming traits. There is some- thing peculiarly exhilarating in the sight of new-fallen snow. The storm which brings it is not without a charm. The graceful eddying of the drifts sported with by the wind, and the silent gliding of the feathery flakes, as one by one they settle upon the earth like fairy creatures dropping to repose, have a soothing influence not easily described, though doubtless felt by all. But when the clouds, having performed their office, roll away, and the brightness of the morning sun beams upon an expanse of sparkling, unsullied whiteness ; when all that is com- mon-place, coarse, and unpleasant in aspect, is veiled for the time, and made to wear a fresh and dazzling garb, new animation is felt by the spirit. The young grow riotous with joy, and their merry voices ring like bells through the clear and bracing air ; while the remem- brance of earlier days gives a youthful impulse to the aged heart. But to all this there is a sad reverse. The resolution of these enchantments into their original elements by means of a thaw, is a necessary, but, it must be confessed, a very doleful process, fruitful in gloom, rheum, inflam- mations, and fevers — a process which gives additional pangs to the melancholic, and causes valour's self to droop like unstarched muslin. The voices of the boys are hushed ; the wliizzing snow-ball astonishes the un- suspicious wayfarer no more ; the window glass is per 212 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. mitted to live its brief day, safe from an untimely frac- ture, and the dejected urchin sneaks moodily from school. So changed is his nature, that he scarcely bestows a de- risive grin upon the forlorn sleigh, which ploughs its course through mud and water, although its driver and his passengers invite the jeer by making themselves small to avoid it, and tempt a joke by oblique glances to see whether it is coming. Such a time was it when Fydget was extant — a sloppy time in January. The city, it is true, was clothed in snow ; but it was melancholy snow, rusty and forlorn in aspect, and weeping, as if in sorrow that its original purity had become soiled, stained, and spotted by contact with the world. Its whiteness had in a measure disap peared, by the pressure of human footsteps ; wheels and runners had almost incorporated it with the common earth ; and, where these had failed in effectually doing the work, remorseless distributers of ashes, coal dust, and potato peelings, had lent their aid to give uniformity to the dingy hue. But the snow, " weeping its spirit from its eyes," and its body too, was fast escaping from these multiplied oppressions and contumelies. Large and heavy drops splashed from the eaves ; sluggish streams rolled lazily from the alleys, and the gutters and cross- ings formed vast shallow lakes, variegated by glaciers and ice islands. They who roamed abroad at this un- propitious time, could be heard approaching by the damp sucking sound which emanated from their boots, as thej'" alternately pumped in and pumped out the water in their progress, and it was thus that our hero travelled, having no caoutchouc health-preservers to shield his pedals from unwliolesome contact. The shades of evening were beginning to thicken, when Fydget stopped shiveringly and looked through the glass FYDGET FYXINGTON. 213 door of a fashionable hotel — the blazing fire and the numerous lig^hts, by the force of contrast, made an out- side seat still more uncomfortable. The gong pealed out that tea was ready, and the lodgers rushed from the stoves to comfort themselves with that exhilarating flui^. '* There they go on first principles," said Fydget Fyx- ington with a sigh. " Cla' de kitchen da'," said one of those ultra-aristo- cratic members of society, a negro waiter, as he bustled past the contemplative philosopher and entered the hotel .^'* you ought to be gwang home to suppa', ole soul, if you got some — yaugh — waugh !" *' Suppa', you nigga' 1" contemptuously responded Fydget, as the door closed — " I wish I was gwang home to suppa', but suppers are a sort of thing I remember a good deal oftener than I see. Every thing is wrong — such a wandering from first principles ! — there must be enoucrh in this world for us all, or we wouldn't be here ; but things is fixed so badly that I s'pose some greedy rascal gets my share of suppa' and other such elegant luxuries. It's just the way of the world ; there's plenty of shares of every thing, but somehow or other there are folks that lay their fingers on two or three shares, and sometimes more, according as they get a chance, and the real owners, like me, may go whistle. They've fixed it so that if you go back to first principles and try to bone what belongs to you, they pack you right oflT to jail, 'cause you can't prove property. Empty stummicks and old clothes ain't good evidence in court. *' What the dense is to become of me ! Something must — and I wish it would be quick and hurra about it. My clothes are getting to be too much of the summer- house order for the winter fashions. People will soon 214 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. see too much of me — not that I care much about looks myself, but boys is boys, and all boys is sassy. Since the weather's been chilly, when I turn the corner to go up town, I feel as if the house had too many windows and doors, and I'm almost blow'd out of my coat and pants. The fact is, I don't get enough to eat to serve for ballast." After a melancholy pause, Fydget, seeing the coast tolerably clear, walked in to warm himself at the fire m the bar-room, near which he stood with great com- posure, at the same time emptying several glasses of comfortable compounds which had been left partly filled by the lodgers when they hurried to their tea. Lighting a cigar which he found half smoked upon the ledge of the stove, he seated himself and puffed away much at his ease. The inmates of the hotel began to return to the room, glancing suspiciously at Fydget's tattered integuments, and drawing their chairs away from him as they sat down near the stove. Fydget looked unconscious, emit- ting volumes of smoke, and knocking off the ashes with a nonchalant and scientific air. " Bad weather," said Brown *' I've noticed that the weather is frequently bad in winter, especially about the middle of it, and at both ends," added Green. " I keep a memorandum book on the subject, and can't be mistaken." " It's raining now," said Griffinhoff — " what's the use of that when it's so wet under foot already ?" "It very frequently rains at the close of a thaw, and it's beneficial to the umbrella makers." responded Green. *' Nothin's fixed no how," said Fydget with great energy, for he was tired of listening. FYDGET FYXINGTON. %16 Brown, Green, Griffinhoff, and the rest started and stared. " Nothin's fixed no how," continued Fydget rejoicing in the fact of having hearers — " our grand-dads must a been lazy rascals. Why didn't they roof over the side W£^ks, and not leave every thing for us to do? I ain't got no numbrell, and besides that, when it comes down as if raining was no name for it, as it always does when I'm cotch'd out, numbrells is no great shakes if you've got one with you, and no shakes at all if it's at home." " Who's the indevidjual ?" inquired Cameo Calliper, Esq., looking at Fydget through a pair of lorgnettes. Fydget returned the glance by making an opera glass with each fist, and then continued his remarks : " It's a pity we ain't got feathers, so's to grow our own jacket and trousers, and do up the tailorin' business, and make our own feather beds. It would be a great savin' — every man his own clothes, and every man his own featherbed. Now I've got a suggestion about that — first principles bring us to the skin — fortify that, and the matter's done. How would it do to bile a big kittle full of tar, tallow, beeswax and injen rubber, with considerable wool, and dab the whole family once a week ? The young 'uns might be soused in it every Saturday night, and the nig- ger might fix the elderly folks with a whitewash brush. Then there wouldn't be no bother a washing your clothes or yourself, which last is an invention of the doctor to make people sick, because it lets in the cold in winter and the heat in summer, when natur' says shut up the po- rouses and keep 'em out. Besides, when the new inven- tion was tore at the knees or wore at the elbows, just tell the nigger to put on the kittle and give you a dab, and youre patched slick — and so that whole mobs of people mightn't stick together like figs, a little sperrits of turpen- 216 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. line or litharage might be added to make 'em dry like a house-a-fire." *' If that fellow don't go away, I'll hurt him," said Griffinhoff sotto voce. " Where's a waiter ?" inquired Cameo Calliper edging off in alarm. " He's crazy," said Green — '• I was at the hospital once, and there was a man in the place who — " '* 'Twould be nice for sojers," added Fyxington, as he threw away his stump, and very deliberately reached over and helped himself to a fresh cigar, from a number which Mr. Green had just brought from the bar and held in his hand — " I'll trouble you for a little of your fire,"* continued he, taking the cigar from the mouth of Mr. Green, and after obtaining a light, again placing the borrowed Habana within the lips of that worthy indivi- dual, who sat stupified at the audacity of the supposed maniac. Fydget gave the conventional grin of thanks peculiar to such occasions, and with a graceful wave of his hand, resumed the thread of his lecture, — ■" 'Twould be nice for sojers. Stand 'em all of a row, and whitewash 'em blue or red, according to pattern, as if they were a fence. The gin'rals might look on to see if it was done according to Gunter; the cap'ins might flourish the brush, and the corpulars carry the bucket. Dandies could fix themselves all sorts of streaked and all sorts of colours. When the parterials is cheap and the making don't cost nothing, that's what I call economy, and coming as near as possible to first principles. It's a better way, too, of keeping out the rain, than my t'other plan of flogging people when they're young, to make their hides hard and waterproof. A good licking is a sound first principle for juveniles, but they've got a prejudice agin it." FYDGET FYXINGTON. 217 «• Waiter T' cried Cameo Calliper. " Sa l" " Remove the incumbent— expose him to the atmo- Bnhere ! ** If you hadn't said that, Vd wopped him," observed Griffinhoff. »' Accordin' to first principles, I've as good a right to be here as any body," remarked Fydget indignantly. *' Cut you' stick, 'cumbent— take you'sef off, trash I" said the waiter, keeping at a respectful distance. - Don't come near me. Sip," growled Fydget, dou bling his fist— "don't come near me, or I'll develope a first principle and 'lucidate a simple idea for you— Fll give you a touch of natur' without no gloves on— but I'll not stay, though I've a clear right to do it, unless you are able— yes, sassy able !— to put me out. If there is any thing I scorns it's prejudice, and this room's so full of it and smoke together that I won't stay. Your cigar, sir," added Fydget, tossing the stump to Mr. Green and retiring slowly. ^^ " That fellow's brazen enough to collect militia fines,' said Brown, " and so thin and bony, that if pasted over with white paper and rigged athwart ships, he'd make a pretty good sign for an oyster cellar." The rest of the company laughed nervously, as if not perfectly sure that Fydget was out of hearing. ^ * * * * * " The world's full of it— nothin' but prejudice. I'm always served the same way, and though I've so much to do planning the world's good, I can't attend to my own business, it not only won't support me, but it treats me with despise and unbecoming freedery. Now, I was used sinful about my universal language, which every Dody can understand, which makes no noise, and which apn t 218 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. convolve no wear and tear of the tongue. It's the patent anti-fatigue-anti-consiimption omnibus linguister, to be done by winking and blinking, and cocking your eye, the way the cat-fishes make Fourth of July orations. I was going to have it introduced in Congress, to save the ex- pense of anchovies and more porter ; but t'other day I tried it on a feller in the street; I danced right up to him, and began canoeuvering my daylights to ask him what o'clock it was, and I'm blow'd if he didn't swear I was crazy, up fist and stop debate, by putting it to me right atween the eyes, so that I've been pretty well bung'd up about the peepers ever since, by a feller too who couldn't understand a simple idea. That was worse than the kick a feller gave me in market, because 'cording to first princi- ples I put a bullowney sassinger into my pocket, and didn't pay for it. The 'riginal law, which you may see in children, says when you ain't got no money, the next best thing is to grab and run. I did grab and run, but he grabb'd me, and I had to trot back agin, which always hurts my feelin's and stops the march of mind. He wouldn't hear me 'lucidate the simple idea, and the way he hauled out the sassinger, and lent me the loan of his foot, was werry sewere. It was unsatisfactory and discombobberative, and made me wish I could find out the hurtin' principle and have it 'radicated." Carriages were driving up to the door of a house bril liantly illuminated, in one of the fashionable streets, and the music which pealed from within intimated that the merry dance was on foot. " I'm goin' in," said Fydget — *' I'm not afeard — if we go on first principles we ain't afeard of nothin', and since they've monopolized my sheer of fun, they can't do less than give me a shinplaster to go away. My jacket's so wet vvith the rain, if I don't get dry I'll be sewed up ana FYDGET FYXINGTON 219 hsiYe hie Jacket wrote atop of me, which means defuncted of toggery not imprevious to water. In I go.' In accordance with this design, he watched his oppor- tunity and slipped quietly into the gay mansion. Helping himself liberally to refreshments left in the hall, he looked in upon the dancers. " Who-o-ip !" shouted Fydget Fyxington, forgetting himself in the excitement of the scene — " Who-o-ip !" added he, as he danced forward with prodigious vigour and activity, flourishing the eatables with which his hands were crammed, as if they were a pair of cymbals — *' Whurro-o-o ! plank it down — that's your sort ! — make yourselves merry, gals and boys — it's all accordin' to first principles — whoo-o-o-ya — whoop ! — it takes us I" Direful was the screaming at this formidable apparition —the fiddles ceased — the waltzers dropped their panting burdens, and the black band looked pale and aghast. " Who-o-o-p ! go ahead ! — come it strong !" continued Fydget. But he was again doomed to sufler an ejectment. "Hustle him out!" ** Give us a ' shinplaster' then — them's my terms." It would not do — he was compelled to retire shinplas- terless ; but it rained so heavily that, nothing daunted, he marched up the alley-way, re-entered the house through the garden, and gliding noiselessly into the cellar, turned a large barrel over which he found there, and getting into it, went fast asleep " on first principles." The company had departed — the servants were as sembled in the kitchen preparatory to retiring for the night, when an unearthly noise proceeding from the bar- rel aforesaid struck upon their astonished ears. It was Fydget snoring, and his hearers, screaming, fled. Rallying, however, at the top of the stairs, they pro- 120 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. cured the aid of Mr. Lynx, who watched over the noc luriial destmies of an unfinished building in the vicinity, and who, having frequently boasted of his valour, felt it to be a point of honour to act bravely on this occasion. Tlie sounds continued, and the ** investigating commit- tee,'* with Mr. Lynx as chairman, advanced slowly and with many pauses. Lynx at last hurriedly thrust his club into the barrel, and started back to wait the result of the experiment. " Ouch !" ejaculated a voice from the interior, the word being one not to be found in the dictionaries, but which, in common parlance, means that a sensation too acute to be agreeable has been excited, " Hey ! — hello ! — come out of that," said Lynx, as soon as his nerves had recovered tranquillity, " You are in a bad box whoever you are." *' Augh !" was the response, " no, I ain't — I'm in a barrel." " No matter," added Lynx authoritatively ; " getting into another man's barrel unbeknownst to him in the night-time, is burglary." " That," said Fydget, putting out his head like a ter- rapin, at which the women shrieked and retreated, and Lvnx made a demonstration with his club — " that's because you ain't up to first principles — keep your stick out of my ribs — I've a plan so there won't be no bur- glary, which is this — no man have no more than he can use, and all other men mind their own business. Then, this 'ere barrel would be mine while I'm in it, and 5-ou'd be asleep — that's the idea." " It's a logo-fogie !" exclaimed Lynx with horror— " a right down logo-fogie !" ** Ah I" screamed the servants — *' a logo-fogie ! — ^how lid it get out I — will it bite ? — can't you get a gun ?" FYDGET FYXINGTON. 221 •• Don't be fools — a logo-fogie is a sort of a man that don't think as I do — wicked critters all such sort of peo- ple are," said Lynx. " My lad, I'm pretty clear you're a logo-fogie — you talk as if your respect for me and other venerable institutions was tantamount to very little. You're a leveller I see, and wouldn't mind knocking me down flat as a pancake, if so be you could run away and get out of this scrape — you're a 'grarium, and would cut across the lot like a streak of lightning if you had a chance." *' Mr. Lynx," said the lady ol the house from the head of the stairs, — she had heard from one of the affrighted maids that a '* logo-fogie" had been "captivated," and that it could talk "just like a human" — "Mr. Lynx, don't have any thing to say to him. Take him out, and hand him over to the police. I'll see that you are recom- pensed for your trouble." " Come out, then — you're a bad chap — you wouldn't mind votingf against our side at the next election." " We don't want elections, I tell you," said Fydgel coolly, as he walked up stairs — " I've a plan for doing without elections, and police-officers, and laws — every man mind his own busmess, and support me while I over- see him. I can fix it." Having now arrived at the street, Mr. Lynx held him by the collar, and looked about for a representative of jus- tice to relieve him of his prize. " Though I feel as if I was your pa, yet you must be tried for snoozling in a barrel. Besides, you've no respect for functionaries, and you sort of want to cut a piece out of the common veal by your logo-fogieism in wishing to 'bolish laws, and policers, and watchmen, when my brother's one, and helps to govern the nation when the 223 CHARCOAL SKETCHES. President, the Mayor, and the rest of the day-watch has turned in, or are at a tea-party. You'll get into prison.** ** We don't want prisons.*' " Yes we do though — what's to become of functiona- ries if there ain't any prisons ?" This was rather a puzzling question. Fyxington paused, and finally said : " Why, I've a plan." " What is it, then — is it logo-fogie ?'* " Yes, it upsets existing institutions," roared Fyxing ton, tripping up Mr. Lynx, and making his escape — the only one of his plans that ever answered the purpose. NEAL'S CHARCOAL SKETCHES. BOOK THE SECOISTD. **B 00 T S:" OR, THE MISFORTUNES OF PETER FABER. It was a lovely autumnal morning. The air was fresh, with just enough of frost about it to give ruddiness to the cheek and brilliancy to the eye. The rays of the sun streamed brightly up the street ; knockers, door-plates, and bell-handles, beamed with more than usual lustre ; while they who had achieved their breakfasts, and had no fear of duns, went, according to the bias of their musical fancy, either whistling or singing through the town, as if they had finally dissolved partnership with care, and had nothing else to do for the remainder of their natural lives but to be as merry as grigs and as frolicsome as kittens. Every one, even to the heavy-footed, displayed elasticity of step and buoy- ancy of motion. There were some who seemed to have a disposition to dance from place to place, and evidently found it difficult to refrain from a pirouette around the corner, or a pigeon-wing across the way, in evidence of the lighthearted- ness that prevailed within. The atmosphere had a silent music in it, more delicious than orchestral strains, and none could resist its charm, who were not insensible in mind and body to the innocent delight which is thus afforded to the healthful spirit. There are mornings in this variable cli- mate of ours more exhilarating than the wines of the ban- 8 neal's sketches. quet. There are days which seem to be a fete opened to all the world. The festive hall, with its blaze of chandeliers and its feverish jollity, has no pleasure in its joys to equal nature's holyday, which demands no hollow cheek or haggard eye in recompense. Enjoyment here has no remorse. No wonder, then, that young men slapped their comrades on the back with a merry laugh, and dealt in mirthful salu- tations. Nor could it cause surprise that old men poked their cronies with a stick, and thought that it was funny. Ay, there are moments when our frail humanity is forgotten — when years and sorrow roll away together — when time slackens its iron hold upon us — when pain, tears, disap- pointments, and contrition, cease to bear down the spirit, and for a little moment grant it leave to sport awhile in pristine gleefulness — when, indeed we scarcely recognise our care- worn selves, and have, as it were, biief glimpses of a new existence. Still, however, this is a world of violent contrasts, and of painful incongruities. Some of us may laugh ; but while we lauffh, let us be assured of it that there are others who arc weeping. It is pleasant all about you here, within your brief horizon, but the distance may be short to scenes most sadly different. Smiles are on your brow, as you jostle through the street, yet your elbow touches him whose heart is torn with grief. Is there a merry-making in your family — are friends in congregation there with mirth, and dance, and song ] How strange to think that it is scarce a step to the couch of suffering or the chamber of despair. The air is tremulous, perchance, with sighs and groans; and though our joyous strains overwhelm all sorrow's breathings, yet the sorrow still exists even when we hear it not. And so it was on this autumnal morning. While the very air had delight in it, and while happiness pervaded the at- mosphere, there was a little man who felt it not — poor little man — poor grim little man — poor queer little man — poor BOOTS. little man disconsolate. Sadness had engrossed the little man. For him, with no sunshine in his heart, all outward sunshine was in vain. It had no ray to dispel the thick fogs of gloom that clouded round his soul ; and the gamesome breezes which fluttered his garments and played around his countenance, as if to provoke a smiling recognition, met with as little of response as if they had paid courtship to the floating iceberg, and they passed quickly by, chilled by the hyperborean contact. The mysterious little man — con- tradictory in all his aspects to the order of the day — ap- peared, as he walked toward the corner of Fifth and Chest- nut streets — Justice's peculiar stand, where "Black Marias" most do congregate, and where his honor does the honors to that portion of society who are so unfortunate and so mala- droit as to be caught in their transgressions and to be arrested in their sins — he appeared, we say, as he ap- proached this awful corner, to be most assuredly under duress, as well as an enlistment under general affliction — a guard of functionaries — a body-guard, though not of honor, seemed to wait upon him — the grim little man and the queer little man. There was a hand too — ponderous in ■weight — austere in knuckle — severe in fist — resting clutch- ino-ly upon the collar of the little man, as if to demonstrate the fact that he only was the person to be gazed at — the in- cident, the feature, the sensation of the time — though the little man resisted not. He had yielded to his fate, sulkily, it may be, but submissively. Pale was the little man's faco — most pale; while his hat was generally crumpled in its circumference, and particularly smashed in the details of its crown, having the look, abused hat, of being typical of its owner's fortunes — an emblem, as it were, of the ups and the downs, the stumbling-places and the pitfalls wherewith its owner's way through life is diversified. He had a coat, too — though this simple fact can not be alluded to as dis- tinctly characteristic — most men wear coats whose aspira- tions 2:0 bevond the roundings of a iacket. But our little 10 NEAL S SKETCIILS. man's coat was peculiar — "itself alone," speaking of it merely as a coat. There were two propositions — either the coat did not belong to him, or else he did not belong to the coat — one of these must have been true, if it were proper to form an opinion upon the usual evidences which go to settle our impression as to che matter of proprietor- ship in coats. The fitness of things is the great constituent of harmony in coats, as in all other matters; but here was a palpable violation of the fitness of things, a coat being a thing that ought always to fit, or to come as near to that con- dition as the skill of the tailor, or the configuration of the man, will allow. It may possibly be that mischance had shrunk the individual's fair proportions, and had thus left his garments in the lurch — the whole arrangement being that of a very small kernel in an uncommonly-extensive shell. It may be mentioned also, in the way of illus- tration, that the buttons behind were far below their just and proper location — that its tails trailed on the ground; while in front the coat was buttoned almost around its wearer's knees — not so stringently, however, as to im- pede progression, for its ample circumference allowed suffi- cient play to his limbs. Thus the little man was not only grim, and queer, and sorrowful, but was also picturesque and original. There was at least nothing like him to be seen that day, or any other day; and, as he walked, marvellous people held up their hands and wondered — curious people rubbed their eyes and stared — sagacious people shook their wise heads in disapproval ; and dubious people, when they heard of it, were inclined to the opinion that it must be a mistake altogether, and " a no such thing." A boy admi- ringly observed, that it was his impression that ** there was a good deal of coat with a very small allowance of man," like his grandmother's pies, which, according to his report, were more abundantly endowed with crust than gifted with apples ; as if the merit of a pie did not consist mainly in its enclosures. To confess the ti-uth, it might as well be can- "BOOTS." 11 didly granted at once, that but for the impediment of having his arms in the sleeves, the little man might have turned round in his coat, vi^ithout putting his coat to the inconveni- ence of turning round with him. The case — we do not mean the coat, but the case, in gen- eral and inclusive — offered another striking peculiarity. In addition to the somewhat dilapidated pair which already adorned his pedal extremities, the little man, or Mr. Peter Faber — for such was the appellation in which this little man rejoiced, when he did happen to rejoice — for no one ever was lucky enough to catch him at it — Mr. Peter Faber carried another pair of boots ahmg with him — one in each hand — as if he had used precaution against being sent on a bootless errand, and took the field like artillery, supplied with extra wheels. But it was not that Mr. Peter Faber had feloniously appropriated these boots, as ill-advised persons might be induced to suppose. But each man has his idio- syncrasy — his peculiarities — some trait which, by imper- ceptible advances, results at last in being the master-passion, consuming all the rest; and boots — an almost insane love of boots — stood in this important relation to Mr. Peter Fa- ber. In happier days, when the sun of prosperity beamed brightly on him, full of warmth and cheeriness, Peter Faber had a whole closet full of boots, and a top-shelf full of blacking — in boxes and in bottles — solid blacking, and that which is diluted ; and Peter Faber's leisure hours were passed in polishing these boots, in admiring these boots, and in trying on these boots. Peter knew, sadly enough, that he could not be regarded as a handsome man — that neither his face nor his form was calculated to attract attention as he passed along ; but his foot was unde- niably neat — both his feet were — and his affection for him- self came to a concentration at that point. Some men there are who value themselves upon one quality — others may be discovered who flatter themselves on the possession of another quality — each of us is a sort 12 neal's sketches. of heathen temple, with its peculiar idol for our secret wor- ship. There are those who pay adoration to their hair. Whiskers, too, have votaries. People are to be met with who attitudinize with their fingers, from a belief that these manual appendages are worthy to be admired, because they are white, or chance to be of diminutive order. Many eyes have double duty to perform, that we may be induced to mark their languishing softness or to note their sparkling brilliancy. To smile is often a laborious occupation to those who fancy they are displayed to advantage in that species of physiog- nomical exercise ; and there are persons of the tragic style, who practise frowning severity in the mirrors, that they may " look awfully" at times. Softnesses of this kind are in- numerable, rendering us the most ridiculous when most we wish to please. The strongest have such folly ; and the weak point in Peter Faber's character lay in his foot. Men there are who will make puns, and are yet permitted to live. Peter Faber cherished boots, and became the persecuted of society ! Justice is blind. On the previous night, in the very hours of quietness and repose, there came a strange noise of rattling and bumping at the front door of the respectable house of the respectable family of the Sniggses — people by no means disposed to tur- bulence themselves, or inclined to tolerate turbulence in oth- ers. It so happened, indeed, on this memorable occasion, that Sniggs himself was absent from the city; and the rest of the family were nervous after dark, because his valor had temporarily been withdrawn from their protection. Still, however, the fearful din continued, to the complete and ter- rified awakening of the innocent Sniggses from tlio refresh- ment of balmy slumber. And such a turmoil — such hurrying to and fro, under the appalling influence of nocturnal alarm. Betsy, the maid-of-all-work, crept in terror to the chamber of the maternal Mrs. Sniggs. Betsy first heard the noise and thought it "washing-day;" but discovering her mistake, Betsy aroused the matron with the somewhat indefinite news, "BOOTS." 13 though rather fearful announcement, that *' they are breaking in!" — the intelligence, perhaps, being the more horrible be- cause of its vagueness, it being left to the excited imagination to detej-mine who "they" were. Then came little Tommy Sniggs, shivering with cold and fear, while he looked like a sheeted ghost in the whiteness of his nocturnal habiliments. Tommy and Betsy crawled under the bed, that they might lie hid in safety. Nor were Mary, and Sally, and Prudence, and Patience, slow in their approach ; and they distributed themselves within the bed and beneath, as terror chanced to suggest. Never before had the Sniggs family been stowed away with such compactness — never before had there been such trembling and shaking within the precincts of that staid and sober mansion. " There it goes again !" shivered Mrs. Sniggs, from beneath the blankets ** They're most through the door !" quivered Betsy, under the bed. ♦* They'll take all our money!" whimpered Prudence. "And all our lives, too !" groaned Patience. "And the spoons besides !" shrieked Mary, who was act- in «• in the capacity of housekeeper for that particular week. "Pa!" screamed Tommy, under the usual impression of the juveniles, that, as " pa" corrects them, he is fully compe- tent to the correction of all the other evils that present them- selves under the sun. "Ma !" ejaculated the others, seeking rather for comfort and consolation, than for fiercer methods of relief. But nei- ther "pa" nor " ma" seemed to have an exorcising effect upon the mysterious bumpings, and hangings, and pantings, and ejaculations, at the front door. In the process of time, however, becoming a little famil- iarized to the disturbance, Mrs. Sniggs slowly raised the window, and put forth her nightcapped head, it having been suggested that by possibility it might be a noise emanating from Mr. Sniggs, or "pa" himself, returning unexpectedly. 14 neal's sketches. " Who's there V said Mrs. Sniggs. '•Boots!" was the sepulchral reply. "Is it you, dear — you, Sniggs V ** If you mean *me' by saying 'you,' it is me — but I'm not 'dear' — boots is 'dear' — Sniggs, did you say 1 Who's Sniggs] If he is an able-bodied man, send him down here to bear a hand, will you 1" and another crash renewed the terrors of the second story, which sought vent in such loud and repeated shrieks, that even the watchman himself was awakened, and judiciously halting at the distance of half a square, he made his reconnaisance with true military cau- tion, concluding with an inquiry as to what was the matter, that he might know exactly how to regulate his approaches to the seat of war. An idea had entered his mind, that per- haps a ghost was at the bottom of all this uproar; and though perhaps as little afraid of mere flesh and blood as most peo- ple of his vocation, he had no fondness for taking spectres by the collar, or for springing his rattle at the heels of a goblin, holding it — the principle, and not the ghost — as a maxim that, if such folks pay no taxes and are not allowed to vote, they are not entitled to the luxury of an arrest, for the ordinances of the city do not apply to them. " Even if it is not a ghost nor a sperrit — and I'm not very fond of any sort of sperrits but them that comes in bottles," said he, having now approached near enough to hear the knocking, and to see a dark object in motion at the top of Mr. Sniggs's steps — "perhaps it's something out of the menagerie or the museum — something that bites or some- thing that hooks ; and I can not aff'ord to have my precious corporation used for the benefit of the city's corporation. The wages is too small for a man to have himself killed into the bargain." "But mavbe it's a bird!" continued he, as he cauo^ht a glimpse of Peter's coat-tail fluttering in the wind — ''* sho-o-o-o !" But no regard being paid to the cry, which settled the "boots!" was the sepulchral reply. — Book II, page 14. " BOOTS." 15 point that there was no bird in the case — " sho-o-o!" being a part of bird language, and only comprehensible by the feathered race — the watchman slowly advanced, until he saw that the mysterious being was a man — a little man — ap- parently levelling a blunderbuss and pulling at the trigger. "Who said shoe, when it's booti" inquired the unknown figure, still seemingly with a gun at its shoulder, and turning round so that the muzzle appeared to point dangerously at the intruder. "Hallo! don't shoot! maybe it will go off!" cried the watch, as he ducked and dived to confuse the aim and to avoid the anticipated bullet. " Don't shute ! I know it don't shute — that's what I want it to do — I'm trying to make it shute with all my ten fingers," was the panting reply, as the apparently threatening muzzle was lowered for an instant and raised again — " and as for its going off, that's easy done. What I want, is to make it go on." Luckily for Charley's comfort, he now discovered that the supposed blunderbuss was Peter Faber's leg; and that the little man had it levelled like a gun, in the vain attempt to pull a Wellington boot over that which already encased hia foot. He sighed and tugged, and sighed and tugged again. The effort was bootless. He could not, to use his own words, make it " shute." The first pair, which already occupied the premises, would not be prevailed upon to admit of interlo- pers, and Peter's pulling and hauling were in vain. It was the banging of Peter's back against the frunt door of Mrs. Sniggs's mansion that had so alarmed the family ; and now as he talked, he hopped across the pavement, still tugging at the boot, and took his place upon the fire-plug. " Pshaw! — baint it hot !" said Peter. " Drat these boots ! they've been eating green presimmings. I guess their mouths are all drawed up, just as if they wanted to whistle *Hail Kerlumby.' They did fit like nothing when I tried 'em on this raoj'ning; but now I might as well pull at the 16 neal's sketches. door-handle and try to poke my foot through the keyhole My feet couldn't have growed so much in a single night, or else my stockings would have been tore; and I'm sure these are my own legs and nobody else's, because they are as short as ever and as bandy. Besides, I know it's me by the patches on my knees. That's the way I always tell." "Are you quite sure," inquired the watch, ''that you didn't get swopped as you came up the street 1 You've got boot, somehow or other. But come, now," added he authorita- tively, and putting on the dignity that belongs to his station, " quit being redickalis, and tell us what's the meaning of sich goin's on in a white man, who ought to be a credit to his fetching up. If you're a gentleman's son, always be genteel, and never cut up shindies, or indulge in didoes. Wha-t are you doing with them 'are boots 1 That's the question, Mr. Speaker." " Doing with my boots 1 What could I do without my boots, w^atchy V added Peter, in tones of the deepest solem- nity, as he laid his boots upon his lap and smoothed them down with every token of affection. ** Watch }'-, though you are a watchy, you've got a heart with the sensibilities in it — nothing of the brickbat about you, is there, watchy? If you are ugly to look at, it's not your fault, and it's not your fault that you're a watchy. I can see with half an eye that you're a man with feelings ; and you know as well as I do that we must have something to love in this world — you love your rattle — I love my boots — better nor they love me, I'm afraid," and Peter grew plaintive. The wavchman, however, shook his head with an expres- eion of " duberousness," which, like the celebrated nod of Lord Burleigh, seemed to signify a great deal relative to the thoughts existing within the head that was thus shaken. It vibrated, as it were, between opinions, oscillating to the right, under the idea that Peter Faber was insane from moral causes, and pendulating to the left with the impression that "BOOTS." 17 he was queer, perchance, from causes which come upon the table of liquid measure. Peter's thoughts, however, were too intent upon the work he had in hand and desired to get on foot, to pay attention to any other insinuation than that of trying to insinuate his toes into the calfskin. Sarcastic glances and nods of distrust were thrown away upon him. He asked, no other solace than that of bringing his sole in contact with the sole of his new boot. On this his soul was intent. ** It's not a very genteel expression, 1 know," said the noc- turnal guardian, " and it may seem to be rather a personal insinivation, though I only ask it in a professional way, and not because I want to know as a private citizen — no, it's in my public campacity, that I think you've been drinking — I think so as a watchman, not as David Dumpy. Isn't you a a leetle corned ]" *' Corned ! No — look at my foot — nor bunioned either," replied Peter, as he commenced another series of tugging at the straps ; and with a look of suspicion, he added : " That 'tarnal bootman must have changed 'em. He's guv me some baby's boots. But never mind — boots was made to go on, and go on they must, if I break my back a driving into 'em. Hurra!" shrieked our hero, "bring on your wild cats!" With this exclamation — which amounts with those who use it, to a determination to do or die — Peter screwed up his visage and his courage to what may be truly denominated " the teriibleyee^," and put forth his whole strength. Every nerve was strained to its utmost tension ; the tug was tre- mendous ; but alas ! Cesar was punctured as full of holes as a cullender, by those whom he regarded as his best friends ; many others have been stuck in a vital part by those who were their intimate cronies ; and how could Peter Faber hope to escape the treachery by which all great men are be- girt ] When exerting the utmost of his physical strength, the traitorous straps gave way. Two simultaneous cracks 2 18 neal's sketches. were heard ; a pair of heels, describing a short curve, flashed through the air, and Peter, with the rap'idity of lightnings turned a series of backward somersets from the fire-plug, and went whizzing like a wheel across the street. Now the half- donned boot appeared uppermost, and again his head fol- lowed his heels, as if for very rage he was trying to bite the hinder part of his shins, or sought to hide his mortification at his failure, not only by swallowing his boots, but likewise by gobbling up his whole body. "Why, bless us, Boots !" said the Charley, following him like a boy beating a hoop, ** this is what I call rewarsing the order of natur. You travel backerds, and you stop on your noddle. I thought you was trying to go clean through the mud into the middle of next week. An't you most knocked into a cocked hat ?" " Cocked fiddlesticks !" muttered Peter. ** Turn us right side up, with care. That's right — cocked hat, indeed ! when you can see with half an eye, if you've got as much, it's my boots vot vont go on. A steam-engine — forty horse power — couldn't pull 'em on, if your foot was a thimble and your legs a knitting-needle. Don't you see it was the straps as broke 1 Not a good watchy !" continued Peter, as he dashed the boots on the pavement, and made a vain attempt to dance on them, and " tread on haughty Spain." " Well, now, I think I am a good watchy ; for I've been watching you and your boots for some time." ** What's a man, if he a'n't got handsome boots; and what's the use of handsome boots, if he a'n't got *em on 1 As the English gineral said, what's beauty without bootee, and what's bootee without beauty 1 Look at them 'are articles — fust I bought 'em, and then I black'd 'em, and now they turn agin me, and bite their best friend, like a wiper. Don't they look as if they ought to be ashamed 1" " Yes, I rather think they do look mean enough." ** Who cares what you think 1 Have you got a bootjack j "BOOTS.'* 19 in your pocket? — no, not a bootjack — I want a pair of them 'are hook-em-sniveys, vot they uses in the shops. I don't want a pull-offer; I want a pair of pull-oners." ** If you will walk with me, I'll find you a pair of hook- em-sniveys in less than no time." If you will, I'll go ; because I must get my boots on somehow, and hook-em-sniveys will do it if anything will. There's no fun in boots what won't go on ; you can't make anything of 'em except old clothes-bags and letter-boxes, and I a'n't got much use for articles of the sort — seeing as how clothes and letters are scarce with me." ** Can't you use them for book-keeping by doui.3e-entry ] That's the way I do. I put all my cash into one old boot, and all my receipts into the other. That's scien- tific double-entry simplified — old slippers is the Italian method." ** No, I can't. I does business on the fork-out system. I don't save up, only for boots ; and as soon as I gets any money, I speculates right off in something to eat, and lives upon the principal." Peter gathered up his boots, and half reclining upon the watchman, wended his way to the common receptacle, where, after discovering the trick played upon him, and finding that the ** hook-em-sniveys" were not forthcoming, he shared his wrath between the boots which had originally betrayed him, and the individual who had consequently betrayed him. At length, " Sweet sleep, the wounded bosom healing," restored Peter to himself and that just estimate of the fitness of things, which teaches that it is not easy — even for a man who is as sober as a powder-horn — to pull a pair of long boots over another pair, particularly if the latter happen to be wet and muddy. Convinced of this important truth, Peter put his boots under his arm, and departed to get the 20 nkal's sketches. straps repalrea, and try the efficacy of "hook-em-sniveys'* where the law could not interfere. And such was the close of this remarkable episode in the life of the grim little man and the queer little man, whoso monomania had boots for its object. THE MAN THAT DANCED THE POLKA. 21 THE MAN THAT DANCED THE POLKA OE, THE OAK AND THE VIOLET. He danced the polka ! And here, if we were addicted to epigrammatic brevity, our narrative might close, with the short and simple enunci- ation of a fact which involves the moral of Lankley Towers — all, perhaps, that entitles him to special attention as a subject of biography. He danced the polka ! / We like this condensation, winding up the virtues of a man. Napoleon-like, into that compactness of parcel which seems to contain much more than volumes. There is a clas- sic nudity about it, scorning the tinsel of pretence ; and whether inscribed upon the rolls of fame, or carved upon a tombstone, what could be more likely to arrest attention or to be long remembered, than — He danced THE POLKA ! ! ! The effect is obvious. As the ages pass along, there would be pausing on the march, and pondering by the way. Successive centuries must stop — here, over Lankley's "sad remainders" — to wonder at the epitaph. Why was it that he danced the polka? — how was it that he danced the polka 1 — what is the polka, and who was Lankley] Our era would gain an immortality. Antiquarian research might show that many danced the polka, at the period referred to ; and that an ability to per- form the feat was a passport through the world of social life ; but nicer observation might detect, that while the many danced the polka, in the thoughtlessness of mere muscular agitation, wiggling hither aud wagglino; thither, without ulte- 16 22 neal's sketches. nor design, and reversing lieel and toe, as Korponay pre- scribes, with no originality of mind, Lankley Towers availed himself of the polka as an aid to enterprise. To hrm, the polka was a stratagem — a conspiracy — a coujp d'etat. His polka had a purpose. Some men succeed by plodding industry — there are oth- ers who make their way, through force of intellect — the whisker and mustache have ofl worked wonders ; but it was left for Lankley Towers to accomplish all he wished by " a wise and masterly" recourse to the polka. He neither crawled, nor crept, nor rushed, up to the heights of fortune. He danced up, to tunes of Strauss and Jullien, as the army of Italy was animated to the crossing of the Alps by the inspiring strains of the Marseillaise. Not that there was any peculiar physical adaptation in Lankley Towers, leading to brilliant achievements as a carpet knight. Though a gentleman, in the most extended sense of the term — longitudinally, few could measure more in feet and inches — yet he had little pretension to beauty in other respects. He was a man, no doubt, of elevated views, capable of lighting his cigar at the street lamp, and of look- ing into the windows of the second story. No inquiries could be requisite on any occasion, to ascertain if Mr. Lank- ley Towers were present ; and, in a crowd, he, better than other people, might discover exactly what was the matter. Others may brag of a long line of ancestors — Lankley could boast of being a long line in himself. But he discovered at last, when the cash his father bequeathed to him had melted from his grasp — how incidents of that sort sharpen the phi- losophy — that a man requires some degree of latitude to live, however upright may be his intentions, and however erect his bearing:. And so — He danced the polka. ** Lankley Towers," observed his uncle Tobias, when Lankley was in process of paying a domiciliary visit to the THE MAN THAT DANCED THE POLKA. 23 uncle aforesaid, in tlie vain hope of raising the wind — his ancle, on this fiscal occasion, like a prudent man, as he was, volunteering a monitory check, in the way of advice, instead of a monetary check, in the way of the bank, as Lankley desired — "Lankley Towers, I can not afford to keep you m wind any longer — you are too long in this respect already, and I am getting short. I'm nearly blown myself, by this tightness in the money-market, which has given me a sympathetic constriction in the region of the chest. Financially speaking, I've got the asthma." " But, uncle, I want some cash so bad." ** To be sure — to want money is always bad ; and that is one of the reasons why I won't lend. If you didn't want it so bad, there might be some chance of getting it back. But when people want money bad, as you call it, the whole affair becomes bad. Why don't you do something for yourself?'* " What shall I do 1" asked Lankley, mournfully. ** I've borrowed from everybody, and don't know how to do any- thing else." " Can't you get a situation as a lighthouse 1 They might whitewash you up, and hang a lamp on your hat — or there's Mr. Morse and his magnetic telegraph — how would you like to be one of the posts, with a wire to your head V "Uncle," replied Lankley, in accents of reproach, "don't talk ironically about wires to a fellow's head ; and never speak disrespectfully of nature's doings, in regard to the article of legs. If you won't lend me any money, pray have respect for my feelings. I'm sensitive about the legs, espe- cially when my pockets are empty. I never twitted you, uncle, because your legs are mere abridgments of works upon the understanding." " Well, well ; I only desired that you should make your- self useful in one way or in another; and such legs as yours are as good a method of getting along, as any I could think of If you were to lie down they would make a tolerable railroad. Always trust to your legs, Lankley, since you 24 neal's sketches. have been so extensively favored in this respect. It is more than probable your genius lies in that extraordinary locomo- tive apparatus — you may as well trust to your legs now— there's no money hereabouts — nothing over to-day, unless it be done over." "Trust to my legs!" repeated Lankley, as he walked away at the utmost compass of his stride, so that people looked after him in admiration, as if the "shears" from the navy-yard, or the machinery for raising blocks at the Girard college, had wandered forth to take a walk ; *' trust to my legs ! — many a true word may be spoken in jest — but how to render my legs available 1 Creditors are troublesome ; and there is Texas ; but Texas is annexed. Oregon ! — bother enough there about parallels, without me and my legs. And besides, what's the use of changing the scene, when the performance will be all the same 1 If I can't bor- row here, how can I borrow anywhere else V " Legs !" and Lankley Towers stood still in silent medita- tion. In these times of excitement, the very children returning from school will dance the polka — with arms a-kimbo, and with vibrating heads, they skip along the street, singing, *• la, la, riddle, tiddle, right turn., looral — right turn, dight turn, tooral, looral^^ and looking coquettishly, first over one shoulder and then over tne other, as they twist themselves into every variety of grotesque form. The polka is every- where ; in highways and in byways ; and no wonder that it jostled Lankley Towers, in the midst of his disconsolate re- flections. Lankley Towers had himself — and who had not] — shared in the general enthusiasm ; and knew somewhat of the mystic dance of the nineteenth century. The instinct of discipline prevailed involuntarily. "Right dum, dight tum — tooral, looral," sang Lankley Towers, casting himself rapidly into a series of attitudes. The people laughed, and the little dogs barked. But with Lankley it was a moment of inspiration. The THE MAN THAT DANCED THE POLKA. 25 flint and steel, dissevered, each lie in icy coldness. No flash of fire appears ; and thus may our genias slumber, liko the flint or like the steel, until some happy contact wakes the sheeted flame. A falling pippin — or was it the dandy- gray-russet] — hit Newton on the head, and aroused him to a knowledge of nature's choicest secrets — a knock, we doubt not, that led to the after scourging of the schools, that slug- gish intellect might be similarly enlivened. Why not throw apples now at pupils' heads '? — for just such an apple to the head of Lankley Towers, was the accidental polka of the street striking upon his uncle's parting words — ** Trust to your legs." ** I will," said Lankley; and, with a firm resolve, he hastened home, to dress for a polka party, at Muscovado's. It was a brilliant scene — beauty was there — whisker, im- perial, mustache, goatee — all thronged at Muscovado's. But Lankley heeded not — looming over all, his eyes were ever downward bent — for Celestina Muscovado — the heiress to more thousands than our arithmetic dare calculate — was the antipodes of Lankley — a condensation of all excellence; and it was she that Lankley sought. Relatively, Celestina Muscovado was like the church, while Lankley spired and steepled at her side — one might almost hear the bells a ringing in his head ; and as you travelled by, it was no more than natural to give an upward glance, to see the clock and learn the time of day. When "timorous accent and dire yell," proclaimed a conflagration, it was common to call up to Lankley to ask in what direc- tion lay the fire. But Miss Celestina Muscovado, though a person of considerable weight in the world, took a different direction, preferring breadth to altitude ; and she became the beau ideal of the "roly-poly" style of feminine loveli- ness. No wonder, then, she looked with favor upon Lank- ley Towers — no wonder, then, he took the hint. " There is no grace or beauty," whispered he, ** in these 26 neal's sketches. Patagonian girls — grenadiers — fit only to reach things from a top-shelf." •' Why, yes, Mr. Towers," blushingly said Miss Celestina Muscovado, " a lady may be too tall." "A great deal too tall, Miss Muscovado — horrid tall, too many of them. I never could admire this v^ire-drawn atten- uation in a woman. Give me the stature of a sylph — a fairy — rounded into grace and comfort — divinely human — humanly divine." " Certainly," simpered Celestina Muscovado ; ** a lady may be too meager, as well as too tall." ** Both are common faults ; and with my susceptibility to the truly beautiful — ah. Miss Muscovado, my susceptibility — my capacity to love and to admire — is intense — it's aw- ful — xvith my susceptibility, then, I seldom go out into the ■world — it shocks me so — I am happy only at friend Musco- vado's. Here only is my soul content." "Fie, Mr. Lankley Towers! A'n't you 'shamed]" and Miss Celestina Muscovado tapped him with her fan. Lankley had touched the proper chord. The response was as he wished ; and, like the celebrated Mr. Brown, it was not in his nature to " give it up so." He proceeded upon the Brunonian theory of perseverance ; and displayed his knowledge of human nature by proving a practical ac- quaintance with the fact that, next to ourselves, we admire and love the opposite to ourselves. " Such pigmy little fellows !" murmured Towers, in dis- dain, drawing up to such a height that Miss Celestina Mus- covado could scarcely see his countenance. " Most men are so diminutive now-a-days — nothing heroic or magnificent about them. If there's anything I do despise, it is these little men." ** They ought always to be tall — I doat on a tall gentle- man," said Miss Muscovado, impulsively, but checking her- self with bewitching confusion. "Such a lovely contrast it makes, Miss Muscovado — tho THE MAN THAT DANCED THE POLKA. S7 lordly and majestic oak — man — reaching almost to the ekies ; and the modest violet — woman — finding peace, hap- piness, and joy, beneath his shelter and protection. But now, v/oman is the oak ; and man is a saucy little 'johnny jump-up' at her feet. There is a very small quantity of the true poetics to be met with in these degenerate days, Miss Muscovado :" and Lankley looked down, as it were, from the garret-window of his elevation, upon Miss Muscovado in the " airey." *'0h, Mr. Towers!" "Ah, Miss Celestina!" What a moment — no "tirkle" doves were ever happier. Let us not interrupt a silence so eloquent. "Just observe, Miss Muscovado," at length whispered Lankley, recovering from the abstraction, with a sigh of tenderness ; " look at those little men and monstrous women dancing in the polka. Where, where, 1 ask you, in this gay assemblage, do we behold a picture of what should be? — where is the oak, and where the violet V " Not there — not there !" and Miss Celestina Muscovado buried the light of her countenance in the most gossamer of all pocket-handkerchiefs. Lankley Towers felt convinced that his genius had been developed, and that it must prevail. The oak and the violet were seen dancing together at in- tervals throughout the evening ; and when they were not dancing, they retired into the recesses of a window, engaged in earnest discoursings, which it is not for us to betray to the gossiping ear of the public. Their conduct, however, did not escape from observation, for Miss Celestina Muscovado was an envied prize. " I say, Ned, do you see," remarked a very little dandy, with more of whisker to his countenance than his physical frame appeared calculated to sustain — " do you see how that lightning-rod fellow, Lankley Towers, is flirting with Celes- 28 neal's sketches. tina? — 'bominable, isn't it 1 — such an ugly rascal, too — she won't listen to me at all. What taste ! — I'll try a little more chicken salad." ** When I asked her to dance, she said she was engaged — engaged every set. I've half a mind to affront him ; and 1 will, after I have some terrapin — there's terrapin, I hope — and a glass or two of champagne," observed Ned. ** Lankley Towers is after the spoons," gi'owled another of the great rebuffed, who being after the "spoons" himself, was, therefore, a good judge of motive in the case; " and if there's any whiskey-punch — punch sooths one's feelings so — I'll go and tell old Muscovado that fortune-hunters are about." " He knows that already," muttered somebody else, who had been rejected on the same score by the Muscovado fam- ily ; and he consoled himself with a little brandy and water, as the best tonic in his peculiar emergency. ** What will you get by telling"? Better make a bargain with Lankley Tow- ers, and help him ofFvdth Celestina, for a per-centage on the profits of the speculation." Thus all was excitement at Muscovado's polka party. Everybody about the room was talking of Lankley Towers's unblushing impudence in thus openly aspiring to the hand of Miss Celestina Muscovado; and when they danced, every- body scrambled to witness the performance and to sneer at the happy man. The little dandy, in his ocean of whisker, stood in gloom, with folded arras, having a sensation which is peculiar in such cases, and is known in surgery as the dis- location of the nose. Ned actually jumped upon a waiter to obtain a better view of that which wrung his heart ; while old Muscovado shook his head in vain. The oak and the violet had a harmony that nothing could derange. The sneers of the gentlemen at Lankley Towers, and the tittering of the 'adies at Celestina Muscovado, fell harmlessly around that happy pair. THE MAN THAT DANCED THE POLKA. 29 "Tell Celestina — Miss Muscovado" — for the old gentle- man piqued himself upon preserving the dignities and pro- prieties before the servants — we should like to see you slap him on the back and call him **Bob," as you do some people — "tell my daughter that breakfast waits," said paternity, as it sat revolving the costs and meditating on the annoyances of the preceding night. But Miss Muscovado, as Miss Muscovado, was no longer in existence. Instead of retiring to her chamber at the con- clusion of the polka party, she had merely stolen up stairs for an apparel suitable to the occasion, and had escaped to some- body else's cab, where our tall friend awaited her arrival ; and in a very brief space of time she had been metamor- phosed into Mrs. Lankley Towers, thus realizing the allegory of the oak and the violet. Muscovado, notwithstanding the sweetness of his name, became greatly acidulated — sharp to a degree — he jumped about the room and dashed his wig into the fire — he whirled a teapot through the looking-glass. He swore he never could, and never would, and never should, forgive his short daughter with that endless husband ; but, alas, he had no daughter but Mrs. Lankley Towers, and who else could supervise the house ] Before many months had elapsed, old Muscovado, at his own fireside, was stumbling over a pair of illimitable legs, which had gained fame and fortune for their owner, and had enabled him to "marry in" and "hang up his hat" in the quietude of domestic felicity. Not a care wrinkled the happy front of the fortunate possessor of these far-reaching limbs. They were needed no longer — if they could be longer — to carry him about to borrow from his friends ; for Muscovado footed all the bills, and the proprietor thereof took upon him- self no heed either of to-day or to-morrow. Who was this lucky one, do you ask? — why, who but he that took, his uncle's advice and "trusted to his legs'?" — who could it be but — THE MAN THAT DANCED THE POLKA 1 80 neal's skktckks. PERRY WINKLE: OK, "JUST WHAT I EXPECTED." Mr. Perry "Winkle has one advantage — though it is rather of a melancholy description — over the rest of the world ; and his superiority in this respect, as there are but few^ who can claim to be largely distinguished from the mass of men by a feature which may be called decidedly their own, entitles him to be looked upon as a hero, and to have things WTitten about him. Perry Winkle does not follow in the beaten track, like a horse in a mill. He has an idea or two completely to himself; and he diverges from the macadamized ways of other people, to make a detour through the grass. This singularity, even if it be presumed that, with the un- consciousness which is an attribute to genius, he is not aware of the fact, must be regarded as a gi'eat happiness in Perry Winkle. It may chance to send him down embalmed to future ages ; and it can not be otherwise than a source of comfort to departed Perry Winkles, to have the name re- membered when its owner is gone. The consideration is one for which multitudes freely render up their lives, often with- out obtaining it; and a single posthumous puff from the tin trumpet of chubby-cheeked fame, is thought to be a solid equivalent for any amount of sacrifice. To Perry Winkle, however, it will be an involuntary offering. He seeks not the bubble reputation, and it is probable that his indifference on this score will secure to him a prize for which others toil in vain. But it must be confessed, that Perry Winkle's claim to notice is rather moral and metaphysical, than of that active PERRY WINKLE. 31 nature which is the more easily recognised. He has not been in battles, and he never so much as tried to kill people; he would scarcely have been distinguished as a soldier. A gun, particularly when the muzzle is grinning toward his person, excites no pleasurable emotions in Perry Winkle. He has an aversion to cold steel, and finds no music in the report of firearms. What, then, is this strange characteristic which is so much enlarged upon, as rendering Perry Winkle a person in whose presence we should instinctively and respectfully take off our hats 1 If Perry Winkle is notable mainly for doing nothing, what did he do to achieve his greatness 1 Perry Winkle thinks. He ruminates, cogitates, meditates, contemplates, speculates, hesitates, and vegetates. Perry muses. There are nine muses already ; but Perry increases the number to ten. Doing is one thing; and, as the world is constituted, doing is a useful thing enough in its way. It would be improper to speak of it in terms of disparagement. We often find it obligatory to be doing. But yet, this " to do" — the "great- est to do" that can possibly occur — what is it in qualities of the true sublime, compared to that unseen and mysterious process which is known as thinking] There is force in thinking. Some people think all the hair off their heads. Shakspere and Julius Cesar were bald, as if the brain, like physical la- bor, works better without its jacket, and is never free in its energies and unembarrassed in its operations until it strips to the task. But without fully developing this idea, which no doubt will at some future day lead to important results, as regards the intellectual constitution of man, let it now be remarked, that it is wrong to reprove people for seeming to do nothing. There may be much of wisdom in the twiddling of thumbs. Who knows what a vast amount of thought may be performed when the individual appears only to whittle a etick ] — It was so with PeiTy Winkle. He is always think- B8 neal's sketches. ing, and is remarkable, among other remarkabilities, for the very little he can contrive to do, which augurs greatness with the certainty of a gimlet, though citizens of the more worldly cast regard it as a bore. And though Perry Winkle may in strictness be said to think for himself, he is not of an exclusive nature, and fre- quently thinks for other people, without standing on cere- mony, or waiting to be asked ; and it is his constitutional point, as well as his characteristic trait, never to anticipate anything but disaster. In this way, though he can not be spoken of as exempt from calamity, he certainly does con- trive to escape from the disappointments which cast a shadow over the lives of the most fortunate. Contrary to the prac- tices of a sanguine people, mischance with Perry is the rule, while success forms the exception ; and his predictions are so often verified by the result — he made a great hit at the time ** morus multicaulis" was in fashion — that he almost regards himself, to this extent at least, as gifted with a spe- cies of second-sight, and as nearly equal to the " seventh son of a seventh son," which he would doubtless have been, if his father and himself could each have had six elder brothers. It is indeed true that his forebodings are precisely the same in all cases. Whatever he attempts, or whatever other folks may chance to do, Mr. Perry Winkle anticipates the worst ; and his sagacity is more frequently vindicated by the event than is usual with those who seek to peer into futurity. When enterprises are embarked in. Perry Winkle indicates a shipwreck. When neighbors are sick. Perry Winkle i? beforehand with the doctor in assurances that they can not recovei ; and when the vessel is on the breakers, or the voice of mourning is heard, can any one deny that Perry Winkle was right ] When he was the smallest slip of a boy, did he not say he was sure the rope of a swing would break ; and did it not break, to the essential damage of Perry's bones 1 — didn't he know it would be so 1 How often has he shrieked to children as they climbed the fence or projected PERRY WINKLE. 33 themselves from windows, that they would surely fall ; and did they not fall as soon as the startling announcement reached their ears 1 No wonder Perry Winkle looks upon himself as one as prophetically gifted as the famed Cassandra; and, happier than the croaking Trojan lady, he is presumed to derive a certain degree of pleasure from the fulfilment of his melancholy vocation. Others, perhaps, may find it difficult to realize Perry Win- kle's satisfactions ; but they are real to him, even if incom- prehensible to them. For instance — when the boat was capsized by a flaw of wind, and the cold and dripping Perry Winkle was fished up inanimate from the bottom of the river, ordinary individuals in his extremity, would have been quite unable to extract agreeable emotions from such a catastro- phe. Still less could they imagine how joy was to be deduced from it, when the humane but unskilful rescue, hoisted the water-logged Perry Winkle up by the heels, as if he were to be put to dry, like a herring. Nor would they have been a whit the more successful in ascertaining the comfort of it, when the exhausted man was rolled about bumpingly, upon a barrel, to wake up by rude knockings any remnant of life that might still reside within him. It was a rough method of resuscitation. In the opinion of those who are large in their experiences, and have tried this species of entertainment in addition to their other sports, it is considerably worse in itself, than the preliminary act of being drowned, which no one yet has ventured to set down as altogether funny. But the first gleam of consciousness was a ray of sunshine to Perry Winkle ; not because he had been restored to existence — Perry Winkle is rather indiffer- ent than otherwise on that score, considering it a little un- worthy of the true philosopher to have ** vitativeness large" — but because it illustrated an idea. It could not be denied that the shakes and bruises to which he had been so remorse- lessly subjected were vexatious, pain being a downright evil, as every one who has had a chance to know, must be aware. 3 34 neal's sketches. The clustering embellishments of his craniology — for PeiTy had not then thought much of his hair off — had been not a little diminished, leaving grievous reminiscences behind, by the boat-hook and other means resorted to for the purpose of drawing him from the bosom of the deep. His cuticle exhibited many fractures, as distressing to look upon as they were doleful to endure ; and he w^as half-smothered, besides, by the curious crowd of idlers on the wharf, who were study- ing the curative art upon his proper corporation, and were trying a vast detail of experiment on his personal identity. After they had held him up manually by the heels, and were somewhat pleased with the antipodean spectacle, they pro tracted their recreation more at leisure by using a block and tackle with the same object, as if it were intended to flay the victim ; so that when Perry snapped his eyes for the first time, he thought, naturally enough, that he had got to an- other world, where our order of things is reversed, and where "topsy-turvy" is the habitual practice ; or that he had floated off* to the cannibals, and was now being " dressed for dinner," not where he eats, but where he is eaten. And to be bundled hither and yon upon a barrel, which could not be described as travelling upon springs, let those do so who like it. Perry Winkle is not of their sort. But he had other sufferings to undergo. There was one man who thought that he had a specific for bringing the dead to life, by the application of Scotch snuff"; and Perry Winkle's reluctant nose received a liberal supply, it being supposed that such an appeal to his senses was not to be resisted by any one who intended to oblige his friends by revisiting the glimpses of the moon. To be sure, it was immediately declared, when his nose spiritedly resented the insult, that he was coming to, on the ground that "he sneezed fust rate," as any nose having pretensions to vitality would have done when thus assailed ; but whatever of delectation might have been found in a "fust-rate sneeze" under such circumstances, we do not, for our own part, believe that it PERRY WINKLE. 35 was enhanced by the renewed application which it induced, under the popular impression that if a little is good, a great deal more must be better ; until, in despite of his earnest, but inarticulate remonstrances, Perry Winkle's weeping eyes were as full of the pungent preparation as his persecu- ted proboscis, and until the hapless man, whom water had spared, was in no little danger of being snuffed out like a farthing rushlight, escaping from Neptune to perish under the auspices of that sternutatory divinity who, in Highland garb, figures at the door of the tobacconist. Perry Winkle was never good " at a pinch." Nor was it an exquisite delight, in addition, to be fumiga- ted freely with the worst kind of "long nine," by that party of practitioners who held it as a cardinal maxim, that one's chances of existence are to be estimated by the vigor with which he may be provoked to cough. And then, again, the spirits which were forced down his throat to " warm him up," were rather remarkable for strength than for fla- vor, and excoriated as they went. It was not enough that Perry Winkle had been drowned and had been compelled to take the trouble to come to life, without the slightest regard to his own personal views upon a matter which so nearly concerned him — for he might have preferred, had he known all that was in waiting for him, to have continued as he was and where he was, among the little fishes, to be nib- bled quietly ; but he had likewise the task imposed upon him, to get well of his doctors — to patronize the Balm of Columbia, that his hair might grow anew — to recover from the effects, not only of his suspended animation, but like- wise of his suspended body, which had been hung contrary to the manner congenial to bodies, and had a right, there- fore, to be indignant — to forget his unwilling ride upon a barrel, to which he had been compelled, as if he were quali- fied for the work, like a bandy Bacchus, or had been for- mally sentenced to be broken upon the wheel — to be obliv- ious moreover, of snuff, cigars, and spirits, which, pleasant 36 neal's sketches. sins though they be to some among the human family, are not to be considered as temptations, when used upon the individual remedially and nolens volens. Who, let us ask again, after so many miles of parenthesis, would have been gratified, like Perry Winkle — not that he was still in positive existence — there ai'e people to be met with who, though neither useful nor ornamental, could con- trive to be pleased at that — but because his own lugubrioub predictions had been verified ? "Atchee!" sneezed Perry, as he sat upon the ban-el — ** atchee ! — stop off the snuff to this 'ere injine — every man smoke himself. I tell you — you — sir, with cigars at a cent a grab, and a hatful for a thank'ee, I'm not the glass works, all chimbly. Am I drowned, or am I not] — quit punching me in the ribs, and don't blow them bellowses down my throat any more. I've got breath enough already to last a week, and you can't blow a man any more alive than he's got room for. Am I still in the United States of Amerekey, agoing to the election, or have I lost my vote and gone somewheres else by water] Ami defunct] — hat's the question, Mr. Cheerman." On being furnished with all the information he required, Perry Winkle indulged in that creaking and rather sinister apology for a laugh, which is habitual to him. It is his idi- osyncratic laugh. One can always tell when Winkle laughs, that a disaster has occurred. Mischief is at hand — mischief which Perry had foretold. Perry Winkle only laughs when other people would cry. His mother took it for granted, when that sound was heard, that something had been broken. It invariably indicated that a screw was loose. Perry Winkle laughed o' this fashion, when Dobbin threw him over the fence. He looked up and laughed in Dobbin's face, because he had said, when his father placed him on the horse's back, that he knew he would get a tumble, and he did — just as he expected. Perry Winkle's laughs are mainly of that kind PERRY WINKLE. 37 which are said to be produced " on the wrong side of the mouth." He constructs them there. " Hee ! haugh ! heugh !" laughed Perry, with a groaning Bound ; " I was just as sure this would happen jist so, as I am that I got up this morning. I'll leave it to old Tarpaul himself, if I didn't say his hulk of a boat would never do with its new sail — didn't I say she was too crank, with a great shot-tower of a mast — didn't I say that the first puff of wind would make his six-acre lot of a mainsail pull us right over ; and weren't we upsot beautiful in less than half an hour 1 He wanted to shorten sail ; but I wouldn't let him alter his stupid arrangements, and made him keep 'em as they were, so we could see who was right and who knowed best. He! he! who-o-o!" and Perry groaned again. " Didn't I tell 'em all we'd soon be down to David Joneses, riding sturgeons and chasing catfish, if things were kept so, and didn't I make the fellows keep 'em so, because they snickered and said I was a loblolly know- nothing 1 And then — smack! — didn't the breeze come, turning us head over heels, and this side up with care, in less than half a jiffy 1 I told you how it would be, said this little gentleman, as we went ca-splash into the water. Fool who, said I, about working a sailboat 1 I haven't had such a laugh for a year, and I wouldn't be done laughing yet if Tarpaul had not tuck me by the legs and pulled me right under water. Water sort of spoils jokes — spoils them tee- totally, as a body may say, when it's mixed more than half and half. Fishes can't have much fun, seeing that water is put into everything they've got." And Perry continued to chuckle and to groan alternately, until at last he fell back exhausted, as he muttered, " I told them so — I know'd exactly how it would be. If we had all been drowned, it would have been no more than right. Who asked these people to hook me out? But perhaps it's just as well, if somebody else has gone to Joneses — not that I wish them bad luck, but because I know'd how it would be " 17 38 neal's sketches. Assurances being given, however, that his companions' were also safe, Perry said : ** Well, there's some consolation yet — how old Tarpaul, and Ned, and Dick, and the rest, will try to sneak round the corner when they see this child a coming up the street with his mouth wide open, to ask 'em who it was that know'd best about that boat of theirs. Pretty fellows, to be sure, to take a man out sailing and treat him to a capsize! — I'll make 'em confess that if it hadn't been for me, not one of 'em would be here now ; and I almost wish I hadn't come to life, so I might tell everybody whose fault it was that Perry Winkle had been brought to an untimely end, in the very flower of his youth and beauty. They'd never have heard the last of it." It will thus be seen that Perry Winkle is deficient in tha- joyons and buoyant trait of character which is classified by the phrenologists under the name of "hope," and which forms, not only the mainspring of enterprise, but likewise consti utes the chief charm of existence. The Perry Winkles are not at all given to hopefulness. Even when the sun sets, they are not quite sure that he pui'poses to rise again ; or are at least doubtful whether they will be in a condition to witness the spectacle. Perry has no pleasurable anticipa- tions. His hopes, if he may be represented as having any, are rather of the funereal cast — hopes with crape round their hats and white handkerchiefs to their eyes — hopes for the worst. No matter how gay the vista may seem to the ordinary spectator, Perry Winkle always contrives to dis- cover the coroner, with an inquest, sitting at the other end of it, busily engaged in finding a verdict. Shaking his head in advance. Perry "knew how it would be — didn't he tell 'em sol" It was a peculiarity of the earliest development. When Perry Winkle filled a smaller space in society, being rather a bud than a rose — before he became a full-grown tulips it was his chance sometimes to be sent for what, in the ver- nacular of Philadelphia, is called, elegantly enough, a *' pen PERRY WINKLE. 89 heth of milk," to enable the elderly Winkles to take their tea, as Winkles often do. In such cases, it generally hap- pened that a doleful plaint was soon to be heard at the door of the paternal mansion. Perry Winkle had returned in tears — Macbeth had but a barren sceptre in his gripe, not- withstanding the fuss he made to obtain it; and in Perry Winkle's grasp there was no other image of authority than the handle of the jug. The cunning fiend had juggled with him as well as with the king of Scotland. But the unfortunate youth had so much of an advantage that he, even at that early period of his existence, " know'd how it would be, if they would send him over there by that big dog" — though, perhaps, it was not so much the fault of the "big dog" himself that the calamity so invariably occurred, as it was attributable to the little Perry's own conduct, as he stood in his worn cap and dilapidated check apron, gazing fearfully at the "big duo-" couchant on his master's step — now making an imperfect attempt to run past, and then retreating with a douu^ful heart — again saying "get out," before the "big dog" had stirred, and shaking the aforesaid apron to alarm the canine digni- tary. It was scarcely an erroneous conclusion on the part of the "big dog," lazily inclined as he for the most part was, and as big dogs, thus distinguished from neiTous and petu- lant httle dogs, are apt to be, to imagine that something of an active nature was expected of him. Under this belief, the ** big dog" would rise to his feet, and as Perry A¥inkle then shrieked and ran away, the " big dog" would briskly follow after and tear, not his own trovvsers, but those of Perry Win- kle — not so much in wrath, as under the impulse of a sense of duty. The "big dog" thought himself invited to do so — he no doubt regarded himself as conferring a favor when he did so. And as Perry Winkle made it a practice to drop the entire jug as he fled, and only to pick up the handle thereof, the " big dog" regarded this feat as included in the perform- ance, and looked upon it as necessary on his part to continue tearing th« trovvsers until the jug operation was completed; 40 neal's sketches. after which he returned, with no little of self-satisfaction in his air, to the original door-step. Dogs, like men, are under the influence of public opinion. If they are treated as if they were expected to bite, they will often act up to the reputation — good or bad, as it may chance to be — which has been made for them in advance. It may, however, not be amiss to intimate that, as Perry always con- trived to come home without the penny, as well as being minus in regard to the jug, a suspicion was afloat that he labored a little to fulfil his own predictions as to how it ** would be," and that, having previously expended the coined money in the purchase of dainties, he put himself in the "big dog's" way to secure an excuse. But of this no certain as- surances are to be obtained. It is certain, at least, that the dog was not in the secret, and Perry keeps his own counsel. At school, too — for Perry Winkle had been at school for a time, and knew nearly as much when he came away as he did when he went — he seldom had the pleasure of an acquaintance with his lessons, though he always "know'd how it would be," when appealed to by the rattan on the subject of extending his knowledge. " Jist what I expected," Perry would declare ; " I couldn't say one word of it when master called me up — not a single word — and I know'd exactly how it would be, before I tried. It's always so ; and it's no use sending me to school for the old man to cure his dyspepsy by dusting my jacket. He says it's all for my own good ! Pretty good, I don't think ! It hurts him more than it does me, hey 1 Then why don't he hand over the rattan, and take a regular lambasting himself] I'd larrup him all day, and never charge nothing for the job — I'll thank him for it some day, will I? — jist wait till I'm grow'd up, and ketch him out by Fairmount or somewheres — that's all." Perry played truant, and when detected, said he "know'd exactly how it would be — he couldn't get to school, if he tned *»ver so hard;" and his academic experiences were brought PERRY WINKLE. 41 to a close before he had *' completed his education" and learned everything up. A star went out at that time. Perry Winkle, then, is not the possessor of those faculties which enable men to advance themselves in the world. He contemplates disaster from the outset, and gives himself a moral defeat before he has entered upon the action. And hence his career through life, so far as his disposition to hold back can be called a career, is a series of mishaps. Being always satisfied that the undertaking will prove unfortunate, and pursuing it, or rather lagging after it, in such a spirit, he probably contributes not a little to the fulfilment of his own predictions. All that has sustained him is, as before hinted, the enjoyment which he derives from being a true prophet. Although Mr. Winkle has, in his time, had many situa- tions which were desirable enough, yet he continued to *' know how it would be," and never failed to be turned out of employment. " Jist as he expected," he never got from his bed in time to open the store. He " know'd he would forget to lock the door," and thieves carried off the goods. He '* know'd he would never remember to take hom.e the parcels," and customers were indignant. When he had a httle shop of his own, and affairs promised well enough, he would fasten the front entrance, and go round to the tavern to prophesy about matters and things in general ; and even then he *' know'd exactly how it would be," and that people always would keep a coming to the shop when he was not there. And finally, when he was sold out by Venditioni Exponas, or some other gentleman of the same unceremoni- ous family. Perry Winkle sat upon the counter drumming with his heels, and remarking to his sympathizing compan- ions, as they crowded in upon receipt of the news, " well, it's jist what I always expected — it's my luck — it has to bo 80. Didn't I tell you that Pd bust up some day or other, and hasn't it come time, exactly as I said it would 1 I'll leave it to any man here whether I didn't say so ; and here 42 neal's sketches. is old Venditioni Exponas, to prove that I'm never mistakeii. Somebody ought to treat — soitow's dry." *' I'll tell you what it is, Mr. Perry Winkle," responded old Venditioni Exponas, putting his great white hat more firmly on his head, and knocking the ivory tip of his big stick with emphasis upon the counter : " I'll tell you exactly how it is, and then you may look upon yourself as having learned something at last. This way you have got of knowing how tilings will be, is the very reason why they come to be so. If you won't get off the track when the locomotive's coming, anybody might know how it will be. You must take the trouble to jump out of the way, or you'll be run over. Stir your stumps — that's the doctrine. A good many curious concerns have been invented, but there's no machine yet to take care of people. They have to do it for themselves. Steam is marvellous, and clock-works are surprising — start 'em and they'll go — wind 'em up and they'll run — and you can either turn in to sleep, or step out to see the soldiers. But self-keeping shops have not been discovered. Can a steam-enffine fork over the chancre for a five-dollar note? — o o can it measure off goods, hand a chair to the ladies, make a bow, or say thank'ee, ma'am"? No — you must mind your shop yourself, if you want your shop to mind you. A shop is more jealous than a sweetheart — you must keep paying it attention all the time, studdy." *' I know'd it would be so," observed Perry Winkle, as Mr. Exponas turned indignantly away, to make an inventory of the goods; "it's jist what I expected — constables is sassy, always. They think that people's things are only made to be seized and sold out, and that human natur' was sent down here jist to have writs served upon it, or to be tuck up for debts and assault and battery. But it's no more than what I expected — and I knew it was my fate some time or other to be bully- ragg'd in the legal way. When they built the debtor's apartment, they had me in their eyes." THE MORAL OF GOSLYNE GREENE. 43 THE MORAL OF GOSLYNE GREENE: WHO WAS BORN TO A FORTUNE. That man is a moral. He is historically complete — a hero who has achieved his climax and has survived his catastrophe — one of those luck- less wights who outlive themselves, and tarry on the stage when their drama is over, posthumous to the action of the piece. Nothing can be more poetically ungraceful than to exist too lonof, and to gfo slouchinof down the world on the wrong side of your crisis, like the stupid stalk of an exploded rocket. To be a moral — Morals, in their plurality of number, are entitled to respect; but make it, gentle reader, ambitious though you chance to be, a matter both of solicitude and solicitation, that you may never, in the singular point of view, obtain the sad pre-emi- nence of being elevated- to the rank of a moral, to be stuck with a pin upon a card in the cabinet of ethical entomology, as a theme for lectures. The moral deducible from one's own experiences, is in some sort antagonistical to himself. It rises at the other end of the plank, and soars to import- ance as a text, just as he declines from the equipoise of a true balance. When, for instance, we are in the mire, our moral is at its superlative height of interest; and, generally speaking, the individual is capable of affording the most im-pressive moral when his morals are in their extreme state of dilapida-tion. It is too much to ask, even of a philan- thropihjl, that he should himself be a moral; but, luckily, 44 neal's sketches. there are volunteers enough to supply the demand. As we said before — That man is a moral. You may see it in the sad dejection of his visage — in his pallid cheek and in his vacant aspect. There is also that in- describable air of shabby gentility in his well-worn garments, wiiich belongs almost exclusively to the man who is a moral, had we no manifestation in his habitual deportment that he has done with ambition and has parted with his hope. He moves, as it were, in solitude, though bustling crowds may throng the street. Amid the din of business or the hum of pleasure, there seems to be a circlet of silence about him ; and people unconsciously feel it as he approaches, that this man is a moral. They have at once an inclination to sym ■ pathize with him, they can not tell why, and yet to avoid him, they know not wherefore. Faces lengthen as he comes, and there is a passing chill in the atmosphere. The very children are disposed to circumnavigate him, by a detour to the right or left, as if they were aware that a les- son, and a lesson somewhat of the hardest, is before them. There is no mistaking the fact. A broken spirit buttons to the chin. Misanthropy, even if it is fortunate enough to possess the article, displays no collar to its shirt ; for w^hat cares it for vanity ? And the man who has no expectation to feed his energies, indicates forlornness by a gloomy slam of the hat, that he may see and not be seen, knowing that it is by the eyes alone we learn aught of each other, and that if they be shaded from the view, we are isolated and apart. "We can not err. He who loiters in the highways when others hurry by — he who reposes in public squares when nothing else is there but a truant dog or two in race through the grass, must be a moral, a completed moral — a deduction and an inference from the aggregate of active humanity, to be read and pondered over at the close of the fable. He is something that was — something which now only appears to be. THE MORAL OF G08LYNE GREENE, AVUO WAS BORN TO A FORTUNE. Book U, paje iS. THE MORAL OF GOSLYNE GREENE. 4ff But why was he — why was Goslyne Greene — for it is of him we speak — why was this man loaded with a moral 1 why is it his hard fate to be a locomotive homily and a perambulating sermon ] For no other reason, than that it was his mishap to begin at the wrong end of existence, and to construct his story downward. Yes, it is indeed a terrible thing — we dread to mention it — the pen falters as we write the fearful words, and we look round with apprehension lest others may be involved in the same awful concatenation of circumstances ; but still, cheered by the fact that such shocking calamities do not often happen, and that, on this favored side of the Atlantic at least, the course of events contributes to preserve the human race from being thus oppressed, we summon up courage to announce the fact, that it was the unutterable wo of Goslyne Greene — poor unoffending infant — to be born to a fortune ! — that it was his disaster to come into the world as heir to cash, to stocks, to bond and mortgage, to real estate — to money in hand, to dividends, to interests, and to rents. He cried — afflicted child — when he was thus inauspiciously ushered into life, and for several days, and nights too, if tradition is to be credited, he continued to up- raise his tiny and inarticulate voice, as if in remonstrance at the wrong which had been done to him. Nay, he was long a wailing babe, pained in anticipation by his melan- choly moral. ** Good gracious," exclaimed the nurse, "what ails the boy!" and the choicest drugs that chymic art could offer, went soothingly down his vocal throat, but without affecting the pacification of Goslyne Greene. It was not physical, but metaphysical, aid that he needed, and Mrs. Jones was incapable of the ministration. Unhappy Goslyne Greene! — and yet his mother received visits of congratulation, and people shook his father by, the hand. There were rejoicings in the mansion. Matrons and maids strove gleefully to welcome the little stranger ; and every one who gazed upon him, endeavored by the 46 neal's sketches. force of imagination, to discover family resemblances in his round undeveloped features, or, at least, beauty in his in- fantile ugliness. Our Goslyne was a love, a darling — the image of its "ma" — a counterpart of "pa." The phrenolo- gists promised genius, and there was reason to apprehend, in short, that Crichton would no longer have the monopoly of being " admirable," and that the river would be set on fire at last, through the gifts of Goslyne Greene. But while, in this respect, he only shared the common lot — for we are all prodigies in the cradle — still Goslyne had lace upon his cap and velvet to his couch, with splendor dll about. Born to a fortune! Enviable creature! — Why did he thus wrinkle up his pudgy nose and weep with direful squalls ? The more he was kissed, the more he was caressed, the more he was admired and felicitated, the more angrily did he sob and shriek. It may be that his unsophisticated per- ceptions saw little else than bitter irony in the flattering compliments that were bestowed upon him, and could dis- cover small reason for being glad that another sufferer had been added to the roll, for the benefit mainly of the tailor, the physician, and the undertaker, which, it is to be pre- sumed, is the philosophy of our indignant uproar at the commencement of this sublunary career. Besides, what had Goslyne done to be thus doomed to a fortune ? He appeared to have as much intellect as other babes. His voice was as strong — his back as straight — his legs and arms as capable as theirs ; and yet he was to be denied the natural and lawful use of his gifts and faculties. No wonder his cries were unremitting, and that his wrath rose as the state of the case was made obvious by the throng- ing of his courtiers. In truth, Goslyne Greene was himself not at all to blame in the premises. His father had toiled with but a single hope that his son might be born to a fortune; and that hojie had been accomplished, as hopes sometimes are, to prove perhaps that the succea'* of our wishes is not always the THE MORAL OF GOSLYNE GREENE. 47 most desirable thing that could happen to us. *• Goslyne will be rich, any how," said the old gentleman, in the midst of his labors, as if he found consolation in the fact, and as if he had thus secured his son's welfare and happiness beyond he reach of doubt. The majority of the world will probably agree in opinion Aith the elder Mr. Greene ; for it is the popular sentiment that the fact of being rich, and not the process of getting rich, is the happiness. But, in this case, and probably in many others, the reverse was the truth. The father had a pleasant life enough under the influence of an absorbing object, while the son is a man with a moral ; and it may be that people are often overruled in this matter, for the ad- vantage of posterity. Who knows but that the follies and extravaofances of those who have either the command of wealth or the prospect of it — their speculations and their splendors — their ** operations" and their magnificence — are, after all, but an element in the plan of wisdom, intend- ed at intei'vals to afford a new impulse by a reduction to the primitive, healthful, and energetic state of having more wants and wishes than we have the means to supply 1 A dabble in the stocks does not always turn out profitably ; cotton sometimes is heavy on our hands, and real estate will sulkily retrograde, when, by the calculation, it ought to have ad- vanced. But are we sure that such events are a visitation of unmitigated disaster 1 May not that dusky spectre, a dun, "hated of gods and men," whose portentous tap causes the heart to quake and the pocket to quiver, have a mission of far greater importance than to make the mere demand for money 1 Superficially considered, it was a sad business when morus 7nulticaulis toppled from its airy height, and brought so many to the earth along with it. To find one's fifty-dollar twigs suddenly reduced to the level of sixpenny switches, is by no means a pleasant waking from golden dreams; and to decline from the damask luxury of a chario, to plain pedestrianism, is a sinking in poetry which afFectf? 48 neal's sketches. the mind by the force of contrast. People, for the most part, are not please-l with changes of so violent a character, and have a decidec^ aversion to the downward movement, whatever they may have done to render it indispensable. And yet reverses r.re often medicinal. There is much of virtue in an alternative. The necessity for walking, which is thus iy-cheeked Fame in full blast upon a speaking-trumpet — "That's Stiggins!" Let Stiggins rejoice in his distinction : for no matter how he conquered it, and it avails not why it is accorded to him, it can not be denied that he — Stiggins — is now what we may call a thing of glory and a matter of renown. — Is it not 60 neal's sketches. for this that the writer bums the midnight oil ; and, like the cuttle-fish, darkens all around him by an inky flood 1 — Fame ! — *' 7nonstrari digito" — " there he goes !" — does not the warrior fight for it, bleed for it, die for it] And what toils, what dangers, what perils, do we not cheerfully un- dergo for such reward, unsubstantial as it may appear ] — Notoriety — distinction ! — ambition craves ; and there is not a path to such attainment, be it lofty, or be it depressed, that is not crowned with eager and jostling competitors, only to hear the welcome whisper as they pass, that " this is Stig gins." There are all sorts of ways essayed to climb the steeps ofi renown. Some of us write books — others fisfht in battles — the duello is resorted to by many — others keep race-horses ^ while there be men in the pursuit of fame, who will eat yo^* a hundred or two of oysters at a single sitting, on a wager, and down in a cellar. Fame — we must have fame, if we can get it — a littSe something peculiar to ouselves, that shall set up and main- tain a difference — perceptible and admitted — between us and all the rest — " myself alone," with nothing to be seen of the like pattern in any other person's house, even if the radiation from our name should not be enabled to cast its beams beyond the most limited circle; and hence it is — we are sure you wince under it yourself — that no man likes to be confounded in the minds of persons, indifferent as they may be to him in the main, with any other man, either on the score of a similarity of name, or on any account whatever. There can no|, indeed, be a worse compliment than not to know that Brown is Brown, or that Smith is Smith, or Jones is Jones ; for though there be, as proved by the directory, many Browns, several Smiths, and not a few of the Joneses, yet each individual, not only of these names, but of all other names that may be suggested, feels that he is, pre-eminently, the person of that name, not to be mistaken or to be overlooked ; and \yhcn, awkwardly, as it often hap- JOHNNY JUMPUP. 61 pens, an unconsciousness of our existence or of who we are^ is exhibited — it is a folly to seek to palliate the offence by fioothings or apologies — our self-love is writhing under a wound. *' Beg pardon — didn't know you !" — Yet we have been here, or there, or elsewhere, all the time — yea, figur- ing just as largely as we could upon our little stage — and still you were not aware that we had ever been born at all, supposing us to be anybody in general, or nobody in partic- lar ! Say no more — we are essentially snubbed ; and you can not make it better by these bungling efforts to explain away the original error. But be careful for the future — never, while you live, be so rash as to admit to any person's face that you never chanced to hear of him before — never, while you live, be induced to confess that you mistook him for somebody else, because there are so many of that name. Better try to play with lions as you would with common people, than thus to trifle with a man's identity — it's dangerous; for it is a jar, brimming full of bitterness, for any man to discover that the identity which occupies all his thoughts, all his time, and all his care, is yet so little of an identity, that he has not been able to assume a distinctive aspect in the eyes of the community which surrounds him. " That's Stiggins !" " Yes — but who is Stigr-ains ]" Now, we ask you — "on your apparel" — is not such a cruel query as that enough to be — apoplectically — the death of the hardiest, toughest, knottiest Stiggins, that ever floated on the tide of time 1 " Unknown," as they say in the bills of mortality, would not that be fatal to the most vital of us 1 And then, to hear our dear self spoken of so cheaply as "a Mr. Stiggins" — "one Mr. Stiggins" — or, worse than either, " some Mr. Stiggins," as if, with all our toil, we had been so far a failure as not to be able to project ourselves a single notable inch beyond the level of undistin- guished Stigginsism. It is sufficient to cause any person, 62 neal's sketches. however averse to hydropathy, and antago istical to the cold water principle, to cast himself into the river, as the nearest attainable approach \.o felo-de-se. And here we have it why it is, that indisputable distinc- tion, whatever be its kind, is so flattering and so precious that mankind counts no cost too gi'eat that may be required to make it sure ; and that everybody fondles it so affection- tely when it has been obtained, often believing, indeed, that we do possess it when we have it not. And so, too, in paternal and maternal affection. It is not to be controverted that the child is yet to be born, which, in the eyes of those to whom it more immediately appertains, is not gifted by nature with faculties that will never allow it to be absorbed in insignificancy, or to be taken and mistaken for any other child. " There can be no mistake in this child," as they say in popular phraseology. It is a bright particu- lar star in the firmament of babydom. Look, now — you see, as it reaches forward to inflict endearing scratches upon the accommodating nose which you so politely extend tow- ard it for infancy's special amusement, you see that it ** takes notice," differently fi'om common children, and thus gives indubitable evidences of a latent genius. Perhaps it talks sooner — that's the force of genius — or may be it talks later — that's the slumbering and growing strength of genius — than other children talk. It recognises its "da-da" — its proud da-da — in a way that is certainly peculiar to itself; and it goes on, step by step, in developing one evidence of coming greatness after another evidence of coming great- ness, so that we are at last stupified to find, on encountering the test of downright experiment and of actual collision with the world, that our prodigy was merely a prodigy when in bud, the genius and the greatness not having survived an emancipation from the nursery; and then, the prodigy hav- ing itself been, in all likelihood, deluded into a belief that it is a prodigy, is compelled, painfully and slowly, to discover Its real value, and to acquiesce in being placed, for the rest JOHNNY JUMPUP. 63 of its existence, in a position merely subordinate — a task which, in many cases, is so replete with mortifications that it is but imperfectly performed, and the sufferer goes through life groaning under the erroneous impression that he came upon the stage before the world was sufficiently advanced to comprehend his merits, and that he is decidedly '* The Unappreciated One." At all events, it is clear that the world is ever full of wonderful babies — but not remarkable at any time for a superabundance of wonderful men. But Johnny Jumpup, however, as any one with half an eye, may discover from his portrait — an authentic likeness, now first published — is safe — certain of his distinction, from the very outset. He — Johnny — is not to be mistaken for anybody else — for, physically and longitudinally — by feet and by inches — he — Johnny — rises far above all cavil and all dispute. He looks down upon them with disdain. His elevation — Jumpup's — is not to be reached by others, unless recourse be had to a chair or to a pile of bricks. But Johnny is up already ; and there is no such thing as the getting of him down, unless he should be razeed, by a cannon-ball, of which, we think, there is no likelihood at present. As you may have had occasion to remark, the family of the Jumpups are none of your lowly-minded people, who feel and act as if they were intruders in the walks of men. Not at all — the Jumpups know they have as good a right to be here as anybody — they doubt, indeed, whether their right to be here is not a shade or two better than that of any- body with whom they are acquainted, having always, as Syl- vester Daggerwood quaintly expresses it, " a soul above but- tons ;" but as everybody else does not place them so far above buttons as they place themselves, the Jumpups pant for that distinction to which all must bow. The Jumpups thought of the making of money in the first instance, as per- haps the shortest cut to glory ; and it is of material assist- ance ; and so tliey toiled and they traded — bargRiiied, sold, 64 NEAL^S SKETCHES. swopped, exclianged, and " chiselled," day in and day out, till Dame Fortune, finding herself so vehemently besieged, could resist no longer, and yielded herself to their persever- ing arms. Eldad Jumpup — the father of Johnny — eventu- ally become one of the richest men about — bowed to at the exchange — chairman of all sorts of meetings — heading sub- scriptions, and having a voice potential in mercantile and monetary affairs. But in this respect, others contrived at last to be as renowned as he — the name of Jumpup could not stand here alone, " grand, gloomy, and peculiar ;" and then Eldad Jumpup endeavored to attain originality by the effort to conjoin literature to commerce ; and he purchased a large assortment of books in exquisite binding — had his portrait painted, in a library — himself with pen in hand, thinking hard over a pile of octavoes, as if crammed with their contents, and endeavoring to give voice to the inspira- tion awakened. But there is a marvellous difference be- tween the buying of books and the reading of books — between the wish for literary laurel, and the processes of gathering the plant ; and Eldad Jumpup very often found himself awakened from unexpected slumber, there in the library, by the sonorous fall of the selected, volume from his unconscious hand, books proving rather soporific to one so long accustomed to stirring realities and active competitions. "Ho! ho!" cried Eldad, "this will never do. I'll hire some fellow to read these books for me, and make a division of the labor." So he had recourse in the next instance to what may be called the hospitalities — town-house, countiy-house, dinners, and so forth. But even then, people would contradict him at his own table, and talk of him as ** no great shakes," when he wanted to be " a great shakes" — what's the use of living, if you are not considerable of a " shakes" ] — they would so talk of him at the very moment when they were fattening their lean and withered frames with his viands and at his ex- pense. JOHNNY JUMPUP, 65 But had he not Johnny 1 When his own hopes of being a peculiar and leading feature were thus foiled and so blighted, was there not Johnny ] What could be done to manufacture Johnny Jumpup into a gieat man ? — Johnny not being troubled with any traits different from common traits, except that as regards eating and sleeping he could do a larger busi- ness than any one else. In these regards Johnny was clever — undeniably. •' That boy's always asleep," observed Eldad, gravely ; " he shows no other genius now — can't sing — can't draw — won't talk — doesn't like to run about, and never made any- thing in his life — nothing but sleep. Extraordinary boy — sleeping so much must mean something, I'm sure of that — but what does it mean 1 I'd like to know. It's his genius, I guess, growing in his head while he's asleep — it don't want to be disturbed now, but by'm'by it will come out in a per- fect blaze of glory. If it don't, I'll turn him out as an im- postor. "And besides, now I think of it, when Johnny is not asleep, Johnny is always eating. That's wonderful, too — very won- derful. It's the genius — some sort of genius — getting into the stomach that makes Johnny so hungry — genius is always hungry, more or less ; because, you see, it wants nourish- ment. So, what between sleeping and eating, I don't see how Johnny Jumpup can very well fail of being a great man, because it's quite clear he doesn't waste any of his strength or trifle away any of his ideas — nobody ever gets an idea from Johnny — he's too cunning for that." All at once, Johnny's genius did make itself apparent ; and the real meaning of the phenomena of much eating and incessant sleeping, so strongly exhibited in his case, became obvious to the meanest capacity. His abilities took an up- ward direction, drawing him out, though Johnny said noth- ing on the subject himself — drawing him out, story after story, like a telescope or a portable fishing-rod. He ate, and he slept, and he grew — every week let out a new tuck 5 neal's sketches. from his trowsers, and his arms went a considerable distance through the sleeves of his jacket. There was no denying it, that Johnny was destined, in one way at least, to be a great man, and to be discovered easily in the thickest of the crowd So was it that the paternal desires were realized. Nobody else had such a Johnny. And now comes the delicate consideration as to whether in the main, it be best for us or not, that our wishes in regard to ourselves or our offspring should be realized. When we look into things with our philosophic eye alone, closing all other eyes, it will often be apparent that a supposed blessing is often a misfortune, and that it is, after all, better for us to be just as we are, rather than any other way. Admire the extent of Johnny Jumpup as much as you please — you that are brief and dumpy — we fear that Johnny could, if he would, tell a very different story about the matter. For instance, Johnny Jumpup is invariably in the way. •'Gracious alive! — do, Johnny, double yourself up, instead of poking your legs all over the room, to break people's necks." Long as he is, people are ever short with Johnny on the subject of his extensions, forgetting too, in their wrath at being unintentionally tripped, that Johnny " suffers some" in the process as well as they. "Oh, Johnny! you're only fit to hand things down from high shelves, or to look into second-story windows. They'd better hire you to light the lamps, or to whitewash ceilings." *' Oh, yes," says Johnny himself, " it's all very dignified and commanding, I've no doubt, to be stretched out this way, like a scaffold-pole or part of the magnetic telegraph; but that doesn't pay for the knocks I get on the head, or make the beds any longer. I can look down upon people, of course ; but what's that to having to keep curled up like a coil of rope more than half the time ] — It's entirely too much trouble to be a great man. Great men do well enough for JOHNNY JUMPUP. 67 extraordinary occasions, but I'd rather be a common people for everyday wear; and I'm half inclined to wish that some- body v/ould take me in a little, or cut me off short. It's a deal of trouble to be always trying to make one's self small : for when I feel the smallest, it's just then that I'm the largest and the mDst in the way. I wish I was brother to Tom Thumb, It's every way cheaper and more convenient." Just so — who is content? — not Johnny Jumpup, with all his advantages ; and we have here another lesson to be al- ways as contented as possible with our lot. It is a doubt whether we could change it to any advantage, or whether, if we could have our children as we wish them, it would be of advantage either to them or to us. Remember Johnny Jumpup, who finds that this world, having been prepared foi people of the smaller extension, is ever at war with his com- forts. No one can tell how many of the swinging-lamps are destroyed by Johnny Jumpup, or how often his hat is swept from his brow by the awnings of the street. He dares not rise from his chair with precipitation, lest it prove that the ceiling is too low; and his phrenological faculties are literally beaten in by the concussions to which he is so unceasingly exposed. When he stops to shake hands with any one, he has a pain in his back from the stooping; and the boys shout after him in the street as " the man who is too long any- where." Jumpup is modest; yet Jumpup is made the target for jokes. People hail him as "the man in the steeple," to know where the fire is ; and many are the queries to learn of him what is the state of the weather up there. Poor Jumpup — ^ wearied and vexed, how is it possible for him to hide himself from sneering observation, or to avoid the pains and the penalties of being conspicuous ] 68 neal's sketches. MR. KERR MUDGEON: OR, 'YOU WON'T, WON'T YOU." There ; now ! You see — do you not? — Nay, you may almost hear it, if you listen attentively. Mr. Kerr Mudgeon — great many of the Kerr Mudgeons about, in various places — but this Mr. Kerr Mudgeon — going to a party as he was — desirous too, as people generally are on such occasions, of looking particularly well — and all ready, to his own infinite satis- faction — all ready except the final operation of putting on his bettermost coat — has torn that important article of gen- tlemanly costume — one may work without a coat, you know, and work all the easier for the relief; but it is not altogether polite to leave it at home on a peg when you go to a party. Torn his coat — not through his own fault, as Mr. Kerr Mudgeon would tell you explicitly enough — he never is, never was, never can be, in fault — but because of that coat's ill-timed and provoking resistance to the operation of being donned. The coat might have known — who is ever thus to be trifled with in the process of dressing 1 Yes, the coat must have known. Ah, coats and the makers of coats have much to answer for. Kerr Mudgeon is ruffled, niffles of this sort, causing a man to look none the handsomer or the more amiable for the ruflfles. Such rufflles are not becoming. " Ho ! ho ! won't go on, hey ?" cried Mr. Kerr Mudgeon, and Mr. Kerr Mudgeon panted and Mr. Kerr Mudgeon blew, on the high-pressure principle, until the steam of his wrath had reached its highest point. II MB. KERR MPD.aEON; OB, "YOU won't, won't you."— ^00^ n, V^y^ 6^- MR. KERR MUDGEON. 69 It is a fearful moment with the Ken- Mudgeons when it 18 manifest that something must break — a blood-vessel or the furniture, or the peace of the commonwealth. Why will things animate and inanimate conspire to bring about such a crisis ? Kerr Mudgeons will be sweet tempered if you will only permit them. The coat positively refused to go on any further — the contumacious raiment. What could Kerr Mudgeon do in such a strait of perverse broadcloth ] " Tell me you won't go on," muttered Kerr Mudgeon, setting his teeth as a rifleman sets his trigger ; ** I'll make you go on, I will," shouted he. There's no such word as fail with Mr. Kerr Mudgeon. Something is sure to be done when he is once fairly roused to the work. It is a rule of his to combat like with like ; and so — and so — stamping his foot determinedly, and gathering all his forces for a grand demonstration against the obstinacy of tight sleeves, he carried his point as he pro- posed to carry it, by a rushing coup-de-main, to the material detriment of the fabric. — But what of that ] Was it not a victory for Kerr Mudgeon ? The coat had yielded to the force of his will ; and if the victory had been gained at cost, is it not always so with victories! — Glory — is that to be had for nothing? — No — depreciate the cost of glory, and pray tell me what becomes of glory ] — It is glory no longer. A luxury, to be a luxury, must be beyond the general reach ' — too expensive for the millions — too costly for the masses. "And now — ha! ha! — ho! ho! — he! he! — come off !" shrieked* Mr. Kerr Mudgeon; "now you've done all the mischief you could, come off." Kerr Mudgeon divested him- self of the fractured, now humbled, peninent and discom- fited coat, and followed up his first success, like an able tactician, he danced in a transport of joy upon its mangled fragments and its melancholy remains. Ghastly moment of triumph o'er a foe. Alas ! Kerr Mudgeon, be merciful to the vanquished when incapacited for the war. 19 70 neal's sketches. But no — coolness comes not on the iiiSidnt — not to the Kerr Mudgeons. They have no relationship to the Kew Cumbers. They disdain the alliance ; and Mr. Kerr Mud- geon's coat had been conquered only — not punished. " That's what you get by being obstinate," added he, as he kicked the expiring coat about the room, knocking down a lamp, upsetting an inkstand, and doing sundry other minor pieces of mischief, all of which, of course, he charged to the account of the coat, as aforesaid. — it was coat's fault al- together. Mr. Kerr Mudgeon is not naturally in a passion. He would not have been in a passion had it not been for the coat — not he — the coat was the incendiary cause; and we trust that every coat, frock or body — sackcoat or any other of the infinite variety of coats now in existence, with all other coots that are to be, may take timely example and salutary warning from the doleful fate of Mr. Kerr Mudgeon's coat, that there may be no sewing of tares, and an exemption from rent. A coat is never improved by participation in battle. And this unhappy coat, which has thus fallen a victim to its incapacity to adapt itself to the form and pressure of cir- cumstances, is by no means a singular case in the experience of Mr. Kerr Mudgeon. We mention it rather as a symbol and as an emblem of the trials and vexations that ambuscade his way through life, to vex him at unguarded moments and shake him from his propriety. Boots, it will appear, have served him just so, particularly on a warm morning when unusual effort fevers one for the day. Did you see Kerr Mudgeon in a contest with his boots, when the leather, like a sturdy sentinel, refused ingress to Kerr Mudgeon's heel, and declared that there was ** no admission" to the premises, in despite of coaxings, of soap, and of the pulverizations of soap-stone 1 If you never saw that sight, you ought to see It, ])efore you shuffle off this mortal coil — indeed you ought, as Kerr Mudgeon toils and pants at the reluctant boots, in the vain effort " to grapple them to his sole with hooks of MR. KERR MUDGEON. 71 Steel." Then it is most especially that a Kerr Mudgeon is '*loveli]y dreadful," like ocean in a storm. Whether salt- petre will explode or not, just set the Kerr Mudgeons at a tight boot, and you shall hear such explosions of tempestuous wralh as were never heard under other circumstances. The gun-cotton is like lambs-wool in comparison, as Kerr Mud- geon hops about in a state of betweenity, the boot half on, half off, declining either to go forward or to retreat. We pity that boot should Kerr Mudgeon find a failure to his deep intent. It has suffering in store — a species of storage which is never agreeable. Corks, too — did you ever dwell upon a Kerr Mudgeon endeavoring to extract a cork, without the mechanical ap- pliances of a screw 1 The getting out of corks with one's fingers is always more or less of a trial. There is donkeyism in corks ; and those that will yield a little, are generally sure to break. Concession, conciliation, and compromise, demand, under these circumstances, that if the cork will not come out, it should be made to go in, to employ the ingenuity of future ages in fishing it up with slipknots and nooses. But Kerr Mudgeon with a cork — he never, "Mr. Brown," can be prevailed upon to "give it up so;" not even if you find the cork-screw for him. Rather would he hurt his hand, loosen his teeth, break his penknife, or twist a fork into an invalid condition, than allow himself to be ingloriously baf- fled by the contemptible oppugnation and hostility of a cork and bottle, thirsty and impatient as he may be for the im- bibation of the contents thereof. If all else fail, Kerr Mud- geon enraged, and the bystanders in an agony of nervousness at the scene — "smack" goes the bottle's neck against a table, or "whack" over the back of a chair — " you won't, won't you !" — or in the more protracted and aggravating case, "smash !" goes the whole bottle to the wall; for the embellishment of paper hangings and the improvement of carpeting — Victoria ! Something is always the matter, too, with the bureau when 72 neal'5 sketches. he would open or shut a drawer. Either it will not come out or it won't go in. That drawer must take the consequen- ces ; and doors — lucky are they to escape a fractured panel, if doors prove refractory, as doors sometimes will. Nobody can open a door so featly as a Kerr Mudgeon. ** You won't, won't you !" and so he appeals to the ultima ratio regum — the last reasoning of kings — which means as many of thumps, cuffs, and kicks, as may be requisite to the purpose. It is a knock-down argument. Pooh ! pooh ! — how you talk of the efficacy of the soft answer in the turning away of wrath. Nonsense, Mr. George Combe, that wrath to the wrathful is only fuel to the flame. Mr. Kerr Mudgeon has no faith in passive resistance and in other doctrines of that sort. Smite his cheek, and then see what will come of the smitation. Go to him if you want " as good as you give," and you will be sure to obtain measure, exact, yea, and running over. And so Mr. Kerr Mudgeon has always a large stock of quarrel on hand, unsettled and neat as imported — feuds everywhere, to keep him warm in the winter season. A good hater is Mr. Kerr Mudgeon — a bramble-bush to scratch withal. ** Try to impose on me," says Kerr Mudgeon, " I'd like to see 'em at it. They'll soon find I'm not afraid of any- body ;" and he therefore seeks to impress that fact with dis- tinctness on everybody's mind ; and, in consequence, if any- body has unexpended choler about him — a pet rage or so, pent up, or a latent exasperation — make him acquainted with Kerr Mudgeon, and observe the effect of the contact of such a spark as Mudgeon with an inflammable magazine. Should you find yourself peevish generally, and a little crusty or so, to those around you — primed, as it were, for conten- tion, should it be fairly offered, stop as you go to business, at Kerr Mudgeon's. He will accommodate you, aikd you will feel much better afterward, you will — " calm as a sum- mer morning," as the politicians have it. MR. KERR MUDGEON. 73 Kerr Mudgeon rides ; and his horse must abide a liberal application of whip and spur, sometimes inducing it as a corollary, is a tumble to be regarded as a corollary from the saddle? — inducing it as a corollary, that KeiT Mudgeon must abide in the mire, with a fractured tibia or fibia, as the case may be. "You won't, won't you?" — and there are horses who won't when not able clearly to understand what is to be done. Now, the horse swerves, and Kerr Mudgeon takes the lateral slide. Again the steed bows — with polite- ness enough — and Kerr Mudgeon is a flying phenomenon over his head — gracefully, like a spread-eagle in a fit of en- thusiasm. When he is dovm he says he never gives up to a horse. Kerr Mudgeon delights also to quicken the paces of your lounging dog, by such abrupt and sharp appeal to the feel- ings of the animal as occasion may suggest ; and often there is an interchange of compliment, biped and quadrupedal, thus elicited, returning bites for blows, to square accounts between human attack and canine indignation. Some dogs do not appreciate graceful attentions and captivating endear- ments. ** Dogs are so revengeful," says Kerr Mudgeon. His dogs always run away ; " dogs are so ungrateful, too," quoth he. Unfortunate Kerr Mudgeon ! What is to become of him until the world is rendered more complaisant and acquiescent, prepared in all respects to go his way 1 In the street, he takes the straightest line from place to place, having learnt from his schoolboy mathematics, that this is decidedly the shortest method of going from place to place. And yet, how people jostle him, first on the right hand, then on the left 1 Why do they not clear the track for Kerr Mudgeon 1 Then at the postoffice, in the hour of delivery. Kerr Mudgeon wants his letters. What is more natural than that a man should want his letters 1 74 neal's sketches. "Quit scrouging!" says somebody, as he knocks Mr. Kerr Mudgeon in the ribs with his elbow. " Wait for your turn !" cries somebody else, jostling Mr. Kerr Mudgeon on the opposite ribs. Still Kerr Mudgeon struggles through the press, resolved upon obtaining his letters before other people obtain their letters, having his feet trampled almost to a mummy, his garments disaiTanged, if not torn, and in addition to bruises, perhaps losing his fifty dollar breast-pin, to complete the harmony of the picture ; but still obtaining his letters in advance of his competitors — five minutes saved or there- abouts — what triumph ! what a victory ! To be sure, after such a struggle, Mr. Kerr Mudgeon consumes much more than the five minutes in putting himself to rights, and finds himself in a towering passion for an hour or two, besides groaning for a considerable length of time over his bruises and his losses, all of which might have been escaped by a few moments of patience. But then the victory — "you won*t, won't you ?" Was Kerr Mudgeon ever baffled by any species of resistance 1 Not he. " People are such brutes," says he ; " no more manners than so many pigs — try not to let me get my letters as soon as any of them, will they 1 I'll teach 'em that a KeiT Mud- geon is not to be trifled with — just as good a right to be first as anybody ; and I will be first, wherever; I go, cost what it may." We do not know that Kerr Mudgeon ever entered into a calculation as to the profit and loss of the operation of the rule that governed his life in intercourse with society. In- deed, we rather think not. But it is probable that in the long run, it costs as much as it comes to, if it does not cost a great deal more, thus to persist in having one's way in everything. In crossing the street now, when the black and fluent mire is particularly abundant, Mr. Kerr Mudgeon in- sists upon the flagstones — "as good a I'ight as anybody," pnd thus pushes others into a predicament unpleasant to MR. KERR MUDGEON. 75 their boots and detrimental to their blackingj so that their understandings become clouded, as they lose all their polish. In general, such a course as this does very well — but it will sometimes happen, as it has happened, that two Kerr Mud- geons meet — the hardest fend off — and thus our Kerr Mud- geon is toppled full length into a bed much more soft than is altogether desirable, which vexes him. Did you, of a rainy day, ever see Kerr Mudgeon incline his umbrella to allow another umbrella to pass 1 We are sure you never did. Kerr Mudgeon's umbrella is as good as anybody's umbrella, and will maintain its dignity against all comers, though it has been torn to fragments by tiie sharp points of other umbrellas, which thought themselves quite as good as it could pretend to be — and so, Kerr Mudgeon got himself now and then into a fray, to say nothing of suits for assault and battery, gracefully and agreeably interspersed. Ho ! ho ! umbrellas ! — " you won't, won't you V Kerr Mudgeon walks with a cane — carries it horizontally under his arm, muddy at the ferule, perchance ; and canes thus disposed, come awkwardly in contact with the crossing currents of persons and costumes. But what does he care for the soiled garments of the ladies or the angry counte- nances of offended gentlemen 1 Is not Kerr Mudgeon with his cane, as good as anybody else and his cane 1 Horizontally — he will wear it so. That's his way. •* The world don't improve at all,"" cries Kerr Mudgeon. '* They may make speeches about it, and pass resolutions by the bushel ; but it is my opinion that it grows obstinater and obstinater every day. It never yields an inch, and a man has to push, and to scramble, and to fight for ever to make any headway for himself — black and blue more than half the time. Every day shoots up all over rumpuses and rowses. But, never mind — the world needn't flatter itself that it's a going to conquer Kerr Mudgeon and put him down too, as it does other people. Kerr Mudgeon knows Ms rights — Kerr Mudgeon is as good as anybody else. Kerr 76 neal's sketches. Mudofeon will fio:ht till he dies. He was never made to yield, so long as his name is KeiT Mudgeon. It's a good name — never disgraced by movements of the knuckle-down character, and I am determined to caiTy on the war just as all the Mudgreons did that went before me. If a horse kicks me, I'll kick him back ; and I wouldn't get out of the way, like Mr. Daniel Tucker in the song, if a thirty-two pound shot was coming up the street, or a locomotive was a whizzin' down the road. Stand up straight — that's my motto. Give 'em as good as they can bring; that's the doctrine ; and while a single bit of Kerr Mudgeon remains — while any of his bones hang together, that's him squaring off right in the centre of the track, ready for you, with his coat buttoned up and a fist in each of his hands." Kerr Mudgeon's face is settled grimly into the aspect of habitual defiance. His brows are for ever knitting, not socks or mittens, but frowns, and his mouth is knotted like a rope. When he looks around, it seems to be an inquiry as to whether any gentleman present is disposed to pugilistic en- counter — if so, he can be accommodated; and the whole disposition of his garments indicates contention — war to the knife. Kerr Mudgeon complains that he has no friends, and is beginning to stand solitary and alone, with but a dreary prospect before him, in a world that grows ** obstinater and obstinater every day ;" and he has yet to learn, if such learn- ing should ever penetrate through the armor of hostility wherewith he is begirt, that perhaps, if we desire to have a smooth and easy time of it, we must ourselves begin by be- ing smooth and easy. The belligerent ever meets with bel- ligerents. There's no difficulty about that. There is a sufficiency of war in every atmosphere, if you are disposed to condense it upon yourself; and no one eager to enjoy the pleasure, need wander far in search of quarrels. Kerr Mud- geon finds them everywhere — "rumpuses and rowses" — But it is a shrewd doubt whether one's general comfort is 41 MR. KERR MUDGEON. 77 greatly promoted by the aggravation of rudeness. It Is easier to bend a little to inclement blasts, than to be snapped oft' by perpendicular resistance — easier to go round an obstacle than to destroy your temper, and your clothing, in the ex- hausting effort to clamber over it, and it may be said of every quarrel in which Kerr-Mudgeonism is engaged, that probably both parties are at fault, though Kerr-Mudgeonism is, in all likelihood, the responsible party. Yet " you won't, won't you 1" is a great temptation to com- bativeness and destructiveness. Is it not, all ye people of the KeiT-Mudgeon temperament ? 78 neal's sketches A BORE, IN CHARCOAL. That's a Bore ! Everybody has heard of bores — of an immense bore — an intolerable bore, or an excruciating bore. The majority of mankind do not require to be told what constitutes a bore. The enlightenment of daily experience is sufficient for the purpose. They learn by dint of sufferings, which, at school and elsewhere — flogging it in — has long been regarded as the best method of disseminating intelligence and of making people smart. We, therefore, content ourselves with re- peating — That's a bore ! Not from the forest of Ardennes — quadrupedal and por- cine. It is neither Mirabeau nor William de la Marck — nor yet is it a personal likeness, representative of each exist- ing bore, or of all the varieties of bore. Portraiture so com- prehensive is impossible. Regard it rather as the ideal of Cruikshank — a type and a symbol, having reference to bores at large — to "General Bore," of the combined forces, if we may be permitted to furnish an available title to the fanciful embodiment. We have, in truth, before us, a sketch of uni- versal boredom, condensed into a form, that when we speak of bores, the whole matter may present itself, physically, to the eye. So — That's a bore ! A modern bore — descended possibly from the Roman augurs, who bored in classic times. But, leaving the his- torical and genealogical question to more learned arbitra- A BORE, IN CHARCOAL. 79 ment, it can not be disputed that the bore is of an ancient race, perforating, as it were, in days beyond the flood, and having now the whole earth as an inheritance. Such multi- tudes of bores — and then so unkindly, too — unfilial and un- nankful. Was there ever bore — we do not believe it — a jore, but of the lesser sort — a gimlet, simply — who could be prevailed upon to acknowledge (candidly and honestly, and with no blush of shame at the relationship) that he was a downright bore, or anything of a bore 1 Never. Though the fact that he is a bore be apparent as the sun at noonday, still will he insist upon it — boring all the while, most likely — that he is not now, that he never has been, that he never can be, and never will be, a bore — as if, zoologically speak- ing, a decided bore, born a bore and educated a bore, could very well help being a bore. Bristle as he may, to be so ac- cused, yet he must be a bore ; and the best he can do, if there can be a best to the worst, is to cherish ambition in his calling, to place it beyond the reach of controversy that Linkum Fidelius is a tremendous bore — superlative — equal to Brunei and the tunnel of the Thames. But as the annals of confession afford no instance of plead- ing guilty to a snore — nobody snores; though the s'norous resonance may keep the watch from sleeping — so the pe- culiarity of boring is broadly denied by its most persevering practitioners. It is professed by none except by those who bore the earth for Artesian wells, and by those who bore their bills through whole houses of legislation. Nevertheless, gentle reader, smile not too securely in scorn of bores. What if it should be said that you are a bore — that we are a bore — that all of us — everything and every- body — are bores inevitably, at certain times and at certain seasons. It is melancholy, but it is true, that be as amiable and as fascinating as possibility will allow — and who more delightful than yourself, or than ourself, when we choose to set about it] — still, it is not to be disputed that there are occasions when people — they, perchance, that love us best at 80 neal's sketches. other moments — will regard us both as bores — tiresomely, and with a yawn — "Good gracious, what a bore ; or again, querulous and fretful — "A shocking bore !" It has been so, in word and in thought, has it not, with you 1 And there are no exceptions to the rule, flatter yourself never so much. It is hydropathic, we must admit — Priessnitz, Graefen berg, and all that sort of aquatic treatment, thus to be sluiced, spiritually, with cold water, by hearing such outcry as we close the door, or to read such thought — the board have an expression — in neighbor faces as we rise to go. After all our efforts — after this deal of trouble in what we regard as our irresistible style of conversational operation — after so much care in costume (did we ever look so well 1) — so much grace in attitude, moreover — topics, besides, so judiciously selected, and we so full of wit and poignancy ; and then to discover — worse than annihilation! — that it is boringr we have been, from first to last ! — and that while we proudly hoped to gain all hearts, people were inquiring of themselves " when will he go V* coupled with unexpressed desires that you were in safe deposite at " Jericho," or borne away to a further remoteness. From this, observe ye, the uninitiated may understand what is meant by a ** sinking in poetry." It is bathos realized and brought home in the utilitarian sense. To speak of " feeling flat," is descriptive enough of what humanity endures at an ordinary ** flash in the pan." When a joke snaps, and people sit in dismayed silence at your inexplicable audacity — ** what did he mean ]" — while your cheeks are tingling — or when young gentlemen break down suddenly in an eff'ort at dashing ease and elegance — flatness is frequent and familiar; but to be thus hurled from the topmost summit of complacent self-esteem, is a Tarpeian fall that makes a hollow in the ground, depressing far beyond the flat. But grumble not — these are results which are not always to be avoided. The best of people, beaming in beauty or A BORE, IN CHARCOAL. 81 sparkling with wit — even our friendships, and not excluding loves — yea, more attractive than all these, in the preference yielded to indispensables over the luxuries of existence — the very call to dinner, tap, tap, in the midst of our employ- ment — if coming at the unpropitious time — are bores, just then. Who are not bores, when gentlemen have some- thing else to do, or when the lady is surprised in ** wrap- ])ers" — when you wish to dress, or have engagements more attractive 1 Be content. There is no complete emancipation from boredom — from boring, or from being bored ; and our wis- dom teaches to balance one against the other, submitting patiently ; or, in a more revengeful spirit, setting forth re- lentless, to inflict on others the same species of calamity that has been administered to you. It is well, however, to refine perception, so that it may be discovered in the features of the sufferers — you could not well feel pulses — when they have had as much as consti- tution will enable them to bear. Note their writhings, and be as merciful as can be afforded. It is economic, also : people once bored to death are beyond reach, to be bored no more ; but if allowed to escape before complete inanition is induced, one may call again to-morrow, to practise on the victim. Note when the " boree" fidgets in its chair, playing with books or twiddling with its darling little thumbs — ad- justing lights which do not need adjustment — vague in an- swer, or abstract in look — with remarks apart, which bear not on the question — with awful pause, spasmodically bro- ken by " How's your uncle, or your aunt?" or, ** When did you see Jones ?" — when it comes to this — there! — you'd better go — it is " suffigeance" now; and it maybe homi- cide, if more protracted. It is folly when such discoveries are made — that boredom has reached its climax — to sit hour after hour in nervous meditation on retreat, as you have, yet fearing the attempt, as you often do. Vanish, gracefully or disgracefully. *' Stand not," as Lady Macbeth judiciously 6 82 neal's sketches. remarked, when bored that her husband misbehaved before the tea-party — " stand not on the order of your going, but go at once." It is useless — who has not tried it? — to wait until incident occurs to afford facility for retirement, unless there is boldness enough to elbow something over that will break. Nor can reliance for a start be placed on any but ourselves ; for how often is it found that each is waiting for the other, and that a single move dissolves the whole array ? In vain — the boys, vociferous enough at other times, are not disposed to raise alarms of fire for your accommooation; a»id we do not know that earthquakes come by wishing foi a shock. When thoughts like these are springing to the mii^d, it admits not of question — we are bonng terribly; and if no better way suggests itself, it is wise to faint at once, that we may be carried out — the open air will do us good. Set it in a note-book, that whenever it is felt that our chair and ourselves are becoming one and indivisible — that we would rejoice to escape if we had hardihood for the deed, but that escape becomes more awkward and impracticable as the time wears on, then are we bores upon the larger scale, fit to be used in pump construction. Then, should our literary researches be confined to Xenophon and the retreat of the ten thousand, or to the study of Moreau in the Black forest. How got the French away from Moscow? But not to drive any one to despair as an irremediable bore — we should regret to hear of an unusual recourse to pistols, cord, or poisons, following close upon the promulga- tion of this boring article — not then to induce summary methods of shuffling coils, with smooth bore or with rifle, it affords pleasure to add that there is hope of redemption for those who are yet capable of feeling the sensations which we have thus imperfectly attempted to describe. They are accidental bores — involuntary — and without malice pre- pense. They have compunctious visitings afterward — they call themselves hard names — dolt, perhaps, or booby — in A BORE, I5f CHARCOAL. 83 returning home — -"how could IV — and in disrobing them for bed, each silliness, real or supposed, that they may have uttered — each folly of excitement — each platitude — ver- ging on the green, or tending to the soft — that has been per- petrated, rises up remorseful — spectre-like and in gigantic exnggeration — to self-accusing eyes. — If we had not said this, or if we had not done that — if we had retired in only tolerable time, or could have comprehended the suppressed irony tjiat induced us "not to be in a hurry," when it had already been proved, to a very great extent, that we were not in a hurry, by any manner of means. The gapings, too — checked, but yet perceptible — unnoticed, but remem- bered — how well we understand them now ! — '* Alas, sfos- ling, goose, and gander, that I am, to have taken compliment for reality, and to have * walked in, won't you,' when 'walk off"' was the true translation of the phrase !" and Borem buries his head in the pillow, as if it were possible when bored by one's self — the worst of all possible bores — to get rid of one's self, by any practicable process. To such as these, as before announced, there is hope of redemption. But what may be called the "Bore Proper" — • the bore ingrain — he who does it a purpose, and, as ' it were, makes a living at it, thinking that the world rejoices in him and would not have it otherwise, he is fit only for the Hospital of Incurables, and must be given up. But now let us make inquiries, on the score of humanity p'^d benevolence, as to Who bores 1 What bores 1 The one idea is exceedingly apt to bore — a single bar- relled bore shoots close — as, for instance, when you see him coming, and know to an exactitude the very thing he will talk about, endeavoring, for the hundredth time, to afford enlightenment on a subject we already understand, or rela- tive to which we care not the value of a button. That's a bore, aa it ambuscades us in the street, or trenches upon 84 neal's sketches. time intended for other purposes. It is prudent, therefore, to be chary and watchful of your one idea. However im- portant it may seem to its possessor, other folks may have a different bias, and are not likely to desire to trot far upon any hobby-horse but their own; and so philosophers, politicians, philanthropists, inventors, speculators, and innovators, of every description and degree, are all given more or less to boring. And though politeness may seem to feel an interest, it is a fair presumption, more than half the time, that po- liteness is not to be believed. We are obliged to politeness always, for its sacrifices, but have little faith in its complai- sance. It may say "bore," when we are gone — it does so generally. Self — how delicious to chatter of one's self! — delicious, but full of danger — -self, then, as a theme for speeches, is, in the most of cases, quite boreal — hyperboreal — other selves being present, each one of which prefers itself to every other self, and only listens to yourself, that, on the reciprocity principle, it may afterward be permitted to talk of itself. Try to remember that all these people round about, are selves of their own, complete and perfect in their individu- ality, and that as they are to you, so are you to them — sim- ply an external circumstance — a shadow and an accident. If you catch yourself talking of yourself, recollect youi'self before you commit yourself, and ask yourself how you would like it, if yourself were bored after this fashion. It is hard, undoubtedly ; but it is necessary to learn how to put your- self in your pocket. "The shop" — mind the shop — is assuredly a bore, if much of the shop be offered. We all have shops, of one kind or of another, which, in the main, is quite enough; and few there are who care much to be indoctrinated with the particulars of the circumjacent shops. When leaving the shop, then, let us be sure that all ajipertaining to the shop is also left. In society, the gentleman — and not to be a bore is essential to that coveted character — is one who vol- A BORE, IN CHARCOAL. 85 unteers no evidence of his avocation. He talks not of bul- locks — prates not of physic or of surgery — refrains from cotton, and leaves his stocks in the money-market, except briefly and in reply to question — and for the plain reason that he is aware that others have shops — that they love iheir shops as much as he loves his shop, and that if shops are to be lugged in, why not their shops as well as his shop 1 — "While thus " sinking the shop," it may be taken rather as an ill compliment to be questioned much about the shop, there being reason to suspect that an imagination exists that you can talk of nothing else but the shop. Think of it by day — dream of it, if you will, by night — and above all, attend to it industriously ; but do not take it with you into other people's houses. We might perhaps keep boring on, like Signor Benedict, who would still be talking — that was a bore — when nobody heeded him — for these general charges admit of minute specification. We could speak of invalid bores, who find delight in the recapitulation of sufferings ; who dote on the doctor, and who bore for sympathy when there is none to spare, and as if none were hurt but them — of melancholy bores, who seek to draw a funeral veil across the joyous day — of misanthropic bores, who sulk and groan — of argumen- tative bores — combative and disputatious — who can not acquiesce, and must contest each point, in a war of posts, with armor ever on — of literary bores, who lend you books, and after catechize, to see that you have read them — be sure at least to cut the leaves before you send the volume back — — of oratorical bores, who practise speeches and grind logic on you — of the bore critical, who would better all things, and of the bore grammatical, who parses what you say — of bores too formal and the bore familiar. But it all resolves itself to this — that he who talks only to please himself, like him who sings or whistles at your elbow, m tending boreward, engrossed in his own gratification, and that the truly kind and considerate are not apt to bore, except by accident. A 20 86 neal's sketches. little thought, and they will know what to talk about, and when to leave off talking; while the opinionated and the selfish will persist in boring — for they lack perception and benevolence ; and perhaps, as a general rule, it may be set down, paradoxically, and differing from guns, that The greatest bores have the smallest calibre. II LOOK AT THE CLOCK. 87 LOOK AT THE CLOCK: OR, A PRETTY TIME OF NIGHT. "Tinkle!" There are people, of the imaginative sort, who undertake to judge of people's character from people's hand of write, pretending to obtain glimpses of the individual's distinctive traits through the rectilinear and curvilinear processes of that individual's pen ; and we shall not, for ** our own poor part," undertake to deny that ** idiosyncracy," meaning thereby the mental and physical peculiarities of our nature, may be discoverable in whatever we do, if there were wit enough to find it out. We are probably pervaded by a style as much our own and none of our neighbor's, as the style of our nose, making each man, each woman, and each child, himself, herself, and itself, alone; and perhaps the time may come, if it be not here already, when the wise ones — profes- sors and so forth — will be able to discover from a glimpse of our thumbs, what we are likely to prefer for dinner. In- deed, we know it to be theoretical in certain schools — in the kitchen, for instance, which is the most orthodox and sensible of the schools — that, as a general rule, the leading features of character are indicated by the mode in which we pull a bell, and that, to a considerable extent, we may infer the kind of person who is at the door — just as we do the kind of fish that bobs the cork — by the species of vibration which is given to the wire. Rash, impetuous, choleric, and destructive, what chance has the poor little bell in such hands 1 But the considerate, modest, lowly, and retiring — do you ever know such people to break things ] Depend S8 neal's sketches. upon it, too, that our self-estimate is largely indicated by our conduct in this respect. If it does not betray what we really are, it most assuredly discloses the temper of the mind at the moment of our ringing. "Tinkle!" Did you hear] Nothing could be more amiable or unobtrusive than that. It would scarcely disturb the nervous system of a mouse ; and whoever listened to it, might at once understand that it was the soft tintinnabulary whisper of a gentleman of the convivial turn and of the *' locked out" description, who, conscious probably of default, is desirous of being admitted to his domiciliary comforts upon the most pacific and silent terms that can be obtained from those who hold the citadel and possess the inside of the door. " Tinkle !" Who can doubt that he — Mr. Tinkle — would take off his boots and go up stairs in his stocking-feet, muttering rebuke to every step that creaked ] What a deprecating mildness there is in the deportment of the " great locked out !" How gently do they tap, and how softly do they ring ; while, per- chance, in due proportion to their enjoyment in untimely and protracted revel, is the penitential aspect of their return. There is a " never-do-so-any-more-ishness " all about them — yea — even about the bully boys ** who wouldn't go home till morning — till daylight does appear," singing up to the very door; and when they " Tinkle !" It is intended as a hint merely and not as a broad an- nunciation — insinuated — not proclaimed aloud — that some- body who is very sorry — who " didn't go to help it," and all that — is at the threshold, and that if it be the same to you, he would be exceeding glad to come in, with as little of scolding and rebuke as may be thought likely to answer the purpose. There is a hope in it — a subdued hope— • "Tinkle!'' LOOK AT THE CLOCK. 89 — that perchance a member of the family — good-natured as well as insomnolent— may be spontaneously awake, and disposed to open the door without clamoring up Malcolm, Donalbain, and the whole house. Why should every one know] But — "Tinkle— tankle!!" Even patience itself— on a damp, chilly, unwholesome night — patience at the street-door, all alone by itself and disposed to slumber — as patience is apt to be after patience has been partaking of potations and of collations — even pa- tience itself can not be expected to remain tinkling there "pianissimo" — hour after hour, as if there were nothing else in this world worthy of attention but the ringing of bells. Who can be surprised that patience at last becomes reckless and desperate, let the consequences — rhinoceroses or Hyrcan tigers — assume what shape they may ] There is a furious stampede upon the marble — a fierce word or two of scathing Saxon, and then — " Rangle— ja-a-a-ngle — ra-a-a-ng ! ! !" the sound be- ing of that sharp, stinging, excruciating kind, which leads to the conclusion that somebody is "worse" and is getting in a rage. That one, let me tell you, was Mr. Dawson Dawdle, in whom wrath had surmounted discretion, and who, as a for- lorn hope, had now determined to make good his entrance — assault, storm, escalade — at any hazard and at any cost. Dawson Dawdle was furious now — "savagerous" — as you have been, probably, when kept at the door till your teeth rattled like castinets and cachuchas. Passion is picturesque in attitude, as well as poetic in ex- pression. Dawson Dawdle braced his feet one on each side of the door-post, as a purchase, and tugged at the bell with both hands, until windows flew up in all directions, and nightcapped heads, in curious variety, were projected into the gloom. Something seemed to be the matter at Dawdle's. "Who's sick?" cried ,mf 90 neal's sketches. " Whereas the fire]" asked another. "The Mexicans are come !" shouted a third. But Daw son Dawdle had reached that state of intensity which ia regardless of every consideration but that of the business in hand, and he continued to pull away, as if at work by the job, while several observing watchmen stood by in admira- tion of his zeal. Yet there was no answer to this pealing appeal for admittance — not that Mrs. Dawson Dawdle was deaf — not she — nor dumb either. Nay, she had recognised Mr. Dawdle's returning step — that husband's "foot," which should, according to the poet — " Have music in't As he comes up the stair." But Dawdle was allowed to make his music in the street, while his wife, obdurate, listened with a smile bordering, we fear, a little upon exultation, at his progressive lessons and rapid improvements in the art of ringing " triple-bob- majors." "Let him wait," remarked Mrs. Dawson Dawdle; "let him wait — 'twill do him good. I'm sure I've been waiting lonof enoufjh for him." And so she had; but, though there be a doubt whether this process of waiting had "done good" in her own. case, yet if there be truth or justice in the vengeful practice which would have us act toward others precisely as they deport themselves to us — and every one concedes that it is ver} agreeable, however wrong, to carry on the war after thi. fashion — Mrs. Dawson Dawdle could have little difficulty' in justifying herself for the course adopted. Only to think of it, now. Mrs. Dawson Dawdle is one of those natural and prop6 people who become sleepy of evenings, and who are ratha apt to yawn after tea. Mr. Dawson Dawdle, on the oth« ' hand, is of the unnatural and imj^roper species, who are mj^. sleepy or yawny of evenings — never so, except of mornings. Dawson insists on it, that he is no chicken to go to roost at LOOK AT THE CLOCK. 91 sundown ; while Mrs. Dawson Dawdle rises with the lark. The larks he prefers, are larks at night. Now, as a correct- ive to these differences of opinion, Dawson Dawdle had been cunningly deprived of his pass-key, that he might be induced " to remember not to forget" to come home betimes — a thing he was not apt to remember, especially if good companionship intervened. Thus, Mrs. Dawdle was " waiting up" for him. ****** To indulge in an episode here, apropos to the general principle involved, it may be said, pertinently enough, that this matter of waiting, if you have nerves — ** waiting up," or " waiting down," choose either branch of the dilemma — is not to be ranged under the head of popular amusements, or classified in the category of enlivening recreation. To ^ait — who has not waited] — fix it as we will — is always more or less of a trial ; and whether the arrangement be for " waiting up" — disdainful of sleep — or for ** waiting down" — covetous of dozes — it rarely happens that the intervals are employed in the invocation of other than left-handed blessings, on the head of those who have caused this devia- tion from comfortable routine ; or that, on their tardy arrival — people conscious of being waited for, always stay out as long and as provokingly as they can — we find ourselves at all disposed to amiable converse, or complimentary ex- pression. And reason good. If we lie down, for instance, when my young lady has gone to a " polka party," or my young gen- tleman has travelled away to an affair of the convivialities, do we ever find it conducive to refreshing repose, this awk- ward consciousness, overpending like the sword of Damocles, that sooner or later the disturbance must come, to call us startingly from dreams ? Nor afler we have tossed and tumbled into a lethargy, is it to be set down as a pleasure to be aroused, all stupid and perplexed, to scramble down the stairway for the admission of delinquents, who — the fact 92 neal's sketches. admits of no exception — nng, ring, ring, or knock, knock, knock away, long after you have heard them, and persist in goading you to phrensies, by peal upon peal, when your very neck is endangered by rapidity of movement in their behalf. It is a lucky thing for them when they so ungratefully ask, ** why you didn't make haste," as they always do, or mutter about being *' kept there all night," as they surely will, that despotic powers are unknown in these regions, and that you are not invested with supreme command. But now get thee to sleep again, as quickly as thou canst, though it may be that the task is not the easiest in the world. *' Waiting up," too, this likewise has its delectations. The very clock seems at last to have entered into the conspiracy — the hands move with sluggish weariness, and there is a laggard sound in the swinging of the pendulum, which almost says that time itself is tired, as it ticks its progress to the drowsy ear. There is a bustle in the street, no doubt, as you Bit down doggedly to wakefulness : and many feet are pat- tering from theatre and circus. For a time the lau^h is heard, and people chatter as they pass, boy calling unto boy, or deep-mouthed men humming an untuned song. Now doors are slammed, and shutters closed, and bolts are shoot- ing, in earnest of retirements for the night. Forsaken dogs bark round and round the house, and vocal cats beset the portico. The rumbling of the hack dwindles in the distance, as the cabs roll by from steamboat wharf and railroad depot. You are deserted and alone — tired of book, sated with news- paper, indisposed to thought. You nod — ha! ha! — bibetty bobetty! — as your hair smokes and crackles in the lamp. But it is folly now to peep forth. Will they never come 1 No — do they ever, until all reasonable patience is exhausted ] Yes — here they are! — pshaw! — sit thee still — it is but a straggling step ; and hour drags after hour, until you have resolved it o'er and o'er again, that this shall be the last or your vigils, let who will request it as a favor, that you will be good enough to sit up for ihem. I wouldn't do it. LOOK AT THE CLOCK. 93 So it Is not at all to be marvelled at that Mrs. Dawson Dawdle — disposed, as we know her to be, to sleepiness at times appropriate to sleep — was irate at the nonappearance of Mr. Dawson Dawdle, or that, after he had reached home, she detained him vengefully at the street-door, as an example to such dilatoriness in general, for it is a prevailing fault in husbandry, and that, in particular, being thus kept out con- siderably longer than he wished to keep out — too much of a good thing being good for nothing — he mij^:\t be taught better, on the doctrine of curing an evil by aggravation — both were aggravated. But the difficulty presents itself here, that Mr. Dawson Dawdle has a constitutional defect, beyond reach of the range of ordinary remedial agents. Being locked out, is curative to some people, for at least a time — till they forget it, mostly. But Dawson Dawdle is the man who is always too late — he must be too late — he would not know himself if he were not too late — it would not be he, if he were not too late. Too late is to him a matter of course — a fixed re- sult in his nature. He had heard of ** soon," and he believed that perhaps there might occasionally be something of the sort — spasmodic and accidental — but, for his own part, he had never been there himself. And as for " too soon," he regarded it as imaginative altogether — an incredibility. The presumption is, that he must have been born an hour or so too late, and that he had never been able to make up the difference. In fact, Dawson Dawdle is a man to be re- lied on — no mistake as to Dawson Dawdle. Whenever he makes an appointment, you are sure he will not keep it, which saves a deal of trouble on your side of the question ; and at the best, if an early hour be set, any time will answer in the latter part of the day. Dawson Dawdle forgets, too : how complimentary it is to be told that engagements in which we are involved are so readily forgotten ! Leave it to the Dawdles to forget ; and never double the affront by an ex- cuse that transcends the original offence. Or else Dawson 94 neal's sketches. Dawdle did not know it was so late ; and yet Dawson might have been sure of it. When was it otherwise than late with the late Mr. Dawson Dawdle ] ** Well," said he, at the bell-handle all this time, " well, I suppose it's late again — it rings as if it was late; and somehow or other, it appears to me that it always is late, especially and particularly when my wife tells me to be sure to be home early — * you, Dawson, come back soon, d'ye hear?' and all that sort o' thing. I wish she wouldn't — i« puts me out, to keep telling me what I ought to do ; and when I have to remember to come home early, it makes me forget all about it, and discomboberates my ideas so that I'm a great deal later than I would be if I was left to my own sagacity. Let me alone, and I'm great upon sagacity ; but yet what is sagacity when it has no key and the dead- latch is down 1 What chance has sagacity got when sagaci- ty's wife won't let sagacity in 1 I'll have another pull at the bell — exercise is good for one's health." This last peal — as peals, under such circumstances, are apt to be — was louder, more sonorous, and in all respects more terrific, than any of its ** illustrious predecessors," practice in this respect tending to the improvement of skill on the one hand, just as its adds provocation to temper on the other. For a moment, the fate of Dawson Dawdle quivered in the scale, as the eye of his exasperated lady glanced fearfully round the room for a means of retaliation and redress. Nay, her hand rested for an instant upon a pitcher, while thoughts of hydropathies, douches, shower- baths, Graefenbergs, and Priessnitzes, in their medicinal application to dilatory husbands, presented themselves in quick aquatic succession like the rushings of a cataract. Never did man come nearer to being drowned than Mr. Dawson Dawdle. "But no," said she, relenting; "if he were to ketch his death o' cold, he'd be a great deal more trouble than he is now — husbands with bad colds — coughing husbands and LOOK AT THE CLOCK. 95 sneezing husbands — are the stupidest and tiresomest kind of husbands — bad as they may be, ducking don't improve 'em. I'll have recourse to moral suasion; and if that won't answer, I'll duck him afterward." Suddenly and in the midstof a protracted jangle, the door flew widely open, and displayed the form of Mrs. Dawson Dawdle, standing sublime — silent— statuesque — wrapped in wrath and enveloped in taciturnity. Dawdle was appalled. "My dear !" and his hand dropped nervelessly from the oell-handle, "my dear, it's me — only me." Not a word of response to the tender appeal — the lady remained obdurate in silence — chilly and voiceless as the marble, with her eyes sternly fixed upon the intruder. Daw- son Dawdle felt himself running down. " My dear— he ! he !" and Dawson laughed with a melan- choly quaver— "it's me that's come home — you know me — it's late, I confess — it's most always late— and I — ho! ho '. — why don't you say something, Mrs. Dawson Dawdle 1 — Do you think I'm going to be skeered, Mrs. Dawdle 1" ^ As the parties thus confi-onted each other, Mrs. Dawdle's " masterly inactivity" proved overwhelming. For reproaches, Dawson was prepared — he could bear part in a war of opin- ion— the squabble is easy to most of us— but where are we when the antagonise will not deign to speak, and environs us, as it were, in an ambuscade, so that we fear the more be- cause we know not what to fear ] « Why don't she blow me up ]" queried Dawdle to him- self, as he found his valor collapsing — "why don't she blow me up like an affectionate woman and a loving wife, instead of standing there in that ghostified fashion?" Mrs. Dawdle's hand slowly extended itself toward the culprit, who made no attempt at evasion or defence— slow ly it entwined itself in the folds of his neck-handkerchief, and, as the unresisting Dawson had strange fancies relative to bow-strings, he found himself drawn inward by a sure and steady grasp. Swiftly was he sped through the dark- 96 neal's sketches. some entry and up tlie winding stair, without a word to com- fort him in his stumbling progress. " Dawson Dawdle ! — Look at the clock ! — A pretty time of night, indeed, and you a married man. Look at the clock, I say, and see." Mrs. Dawson Dawdle, however, had, for the moment, lost her advantage in thus giving utterance to her emotion ; and Mr. Dawson Dawdle, though much shaken, began to recover his spirits. '* Two o'clock, Mr. Dawdle — two ! — isn't it two, T ask you V* " If you are positive about the fact, Mrs. Dawdle, it would be unbecoming in me to call your veracity in question, and I decline looking. So far as I am informed, it generally is two o'clock just about this time in the morning — at least, it always has been whenever I stayed up to see. If the clock is right, you'll be apt to find it two just as it strikes two — that's the reason it strikes, and I don't know that it could have a better reason." "A pretty time !" "Yes — pretty enough," responded Dawdle; "when it don't rain, one time of night is as pretty as another time of night — it's the people that's up in the time of night, that's not pretty; and you, Mrs. Dawdle, are a case in pint — keeping a man out of his own house. It's not the night that's not pretty, Mrs. Dawdle, but the goings-on, that's not — and you are the goings-on. As for me, I'm for peace — a dead-latch key and peace ; and I move that the goings-on be indefinitely postponed, because, Mrs. Dawdle, I've heard it all before — I know it like a book ; and if you insist on it, Mrs. Dawdle, I'll save you trouble, and speak the whole speech for you right off the reel, only I can't cry good when I'm jolly." But Dawson Dawdle's volubility, assumed for the purpose of hiding his own misgivings, did not answer the end which he had in view; for Mrs. Dawson Dawdle, havinghad a glimpse at its effects, again resorted to the "silent system" of con- LOOK AT THE CLOCK. 97 nubial management. She spoke no more that night, which Dawson, perchance, found agreeable enough. But she would not speak any more the day after, which perplexed him when he came down too late for breakfast, or returned 'oo late for dinner. *' I do wish she would say something," muttered Dawdle ; 'something cross, if she likes — anything, so it makes a Qoise. It makes a man feel bad, after he's used to being talked to, not to be talked to in the regular old-fashioned way. When one's so accustomed to being blowed up, it seems as if he was lost or didn't belong to anybody, if no one sees to it that he's blowed up at the usual time. Bache- lors, perhaps, can get along well enough without having their comforts properly attended to in this respect. — What do they know, the miserable creatures, about such warm receptions, and such little endearments ? When they are out too late, nobody's at home preparing a speech for them ; but I feel just as if I was a widower, if I'm not talked to for not being at home in time." So Dawson Dawdle was thus impelled to efforts at reform, because his defaults and his deficiencies could elicit no re- buke but that of an impenetrable silence ; and, in conse- quence, he has of late been several times almost in time, and he begins to hope that he may be in time yet before he dies. As for Mrs. Dawson Dawdle, whose example is commend- ed to whom it may concern, she has adopted the " silent system" of discipline, as a part of her domestic economy. She says nothing. Talk as she may when Dawdle is from home, he must be a good Dawdle — a love of a Dawdle — to induce her to the use of her tongue when he is about the house. The intensity of the silence announces to him how far he has offended ; and the only notice now that is ac- corded to his errors in the computation of hours and minutes, is the hand upon the neck-handkerchief, and that solemn and startling request before alluded to, which invites hira to " Look at the Clock !" 7 98 NEAL S SKETCHES. SHERRIE KOBLER: OR, A SEARCH AFTER FUN. Sherrie Kobler, did you say ] Yes — Sherrie Kobler. The name, of course, strikes you as familiar ; and if it has been your fortune to be much '* about," as the phrase goes, in the bustling scenes of a gay metropolis, it is more than probable that you have, more or less, had the pleasure of forrping an acquaintance with the illustrious individual — Sherrie Kobler — to whom we now refer. But let us be respectful to a colossal genius of the times, and accord to him all the typographical extension to which his worth is entitled. Leave it to cotemporaneous levity to curtail men's names of fair proportion, and to stab at dignity by the vile processes of that abbreviation which terms you Pick, and calls me Tom, as if we were too slight and insig- nificant to have ourselves spelt out in full. Sheridan Kobler, with all its longitude — at least, in the preliminaries of in- troduction, however much we may fall into the vulgar cus- tom as we proceed in narrative — Sheridan Kobler, then, is a personage of intrinsic force ; and, though bearing the name of a wit, a statesman, a dramatist, and a bon vivant^ he is one of the precious few who have proved themselves equal to their prenomen, and have been at all able to realize the promise held out by the error of their parents. The paths of distinction lie comparatively open to your Sams, your Bens, and your Abrahams — but if the name be ambi- tious — borrowed, as it were, from the memory of departed greatness — a double load is imposed upon its unfortunate SHERRIE KOBLER. 99 .possessor, and he is doomed not only to work himself for- ward, but likewise continually to provoke disadvantageous 3ompaiison with him who has gone before ; and hence it is hat this system of complimentary nomenclature has shown tself so barren of results. It is, for the most part, the plain lame — the simple, unpresuming name — the name without iwagger, without dash, without complication — the name iwakening no recollections of antecedent glory — that buoys tself upward into the ethereal regions of renown. But Sheridan Kobler has that within which is superior to impedi- ment, and triumphant over obstacles — Sheridan Kobler is an impulse and an energy; and if he had done nothing else CO entitle him to a world's admiration and remembrance, the mere fact that he first prepared, combined, and imbibed, the potation that bears his own title — Sherrie Kobler — would be sufficient to find him a place in grateful mouths long after the Caesars and Napoleons of the earth are forgotten. Who — let us ask — who calls for them — who — thirsty and impatient — cries aloud for a "Julius Caesar," or a ** Na- poleon Bonaparte," to quench the fever of his frame 1 As well might he seek refreshment in dust and ashes, as in these, or cast himself in fiery furnaces, as ask the warrior's aid in such extremity. But it is not thus with Sherrie Kob- ler — "a Sherrie Kobler" — "two Sherrie Koblers" — " Sherrie Koblers for six " — "keep bringing Sherrie Kob- lers" — there's glory for you, in its broadest sense and in its most extended compass ; and so does Sherrie Kobler, crowned with a decanter, roll onward to the unborn centu- ries, cresting the " tenth wave" of imperishable renown. "Jefferson shoes" and "Wellington boots" — their soles and uppers — may pass into the realms of oblivion, as men decay and fashions change. Where is now that tinct of " Navarino smoke" which once enveloped beauty in its silken folds; and where the " Talavera trowsers" that almost showed how fields were won 1 — Gone — all gone — their memory scarce remains in shops. Some newer incident 100 neal's sketches. usurps the place; and even the all sorts of " Lafayettes," that twenty years ago brought the " illustrious representa-^ tive of two hemispheres" so frequently to view, what, we pray you, has become of them 1 — Ay — "so fades the glim- mering landscape on the sight;" and it is rare — if not almost one of the impossibilities — so to impress ourselves upon the minds of men that the image may escape erasure, and that our memory shall remain as sharply cut and as freshly carved as at first. We do not propose, therefore, to fly, like an exasperated hen, with contumelious boldness, into the wiinkled face of the established experiences, in honor of our present hero, the benignant Sherrie Kobler, of the nineteenth century. It may be that he, too, must undergo the lot of our common humanity and evaporate like the rest of us. But still, it may be' at least assumed that he can not be altogether lost sight of, while bar-rooms remain and glasses retain their shape. Punch has long been in the heads of people, and why not Sherrie Kobler] — Let ambition take the hint. Why pile a pyramid, or build the mighty city ] Why undergo phle- botomy in battles, or seek to be immortal in the evanescent puffs of transitory newspapers 1 These are but the shadows of a shade — the delusive phantasm of the moment; but Sherrie Kobler — he is enshrined in men — not, observe ye, in the deceitfulness of their hearts, or in the frigid reasoning of their intellect — but deeper, surer, safer, in the cravings of their stomach, there hoping to hold a state for ever — un- less — at which poor Sherrie Kobler shivers — unless the second deluge of cold water which now surges round him, hydropathically — this Sheri'ie Kobler can not swim — should destroy him too, as it once destroyed a world. But let us become acquainted with Sherrie Kobler him- self, having announced the peculiar fact by which the reality of his existence has been carved upon the gate-posts of the age — for Sherrie Kobler is not a man of single merit — not a hero with " one virtue and a thousand crimes." Sherrie ia SHERRIE KOBLER. 101 jovial, jocose, and jolly, at all points, like a chestnut bur or B porcupine — practically jocose and physically jolly ; and it is singular how he contrived to pass over the minor consid- erations of annoyance to the rest of creation, in w^orking out of them all the materials for fun vv^hich they were capable of producing. Indeed, the youthful Sherrie Kobler, who now does ** not misbeseem the promise of his spring," was a de- lightful boy, to those who discern genius in its fainter strug- gling and feebler developments. At that time of life, he was not endowed with a superfluity of strength; yet the lack of power was deliciously made up in adroitness ; and he could pull away the chair on which an elderly individual was about to deposite himself, with a hand so neat and clever that the tumble consequent thereon could not fail to elicit gen- eral admiration. The crash was magnificent, though there were occasions on which the performance was productive somewhat of a suit of boxed ears, and various entertain- ments of that vivacious description, which are, perhaps, more practised than appreciated ; and it was thus a source of fre- quent complaint on the part of Sherrie and his admirers — especially when stout ladies and maiden aunts were discom- posed after his peculiar fashion — that "some people never know how to take a joke" — your joke probably not being *' taken" when an equivalent is returned in sundry manipu- lations on the dexter and sinister aspects of your counte- nance. The world is apt to treat us — Sherrie Kobler and all — as Tony Lumpkin was treated at the Hardcastles' — "we are always snubbed when we are in spirits." So it was when Sherrie put brimstone on the stove or powder in the scuttle — nay, the joke was rarely taken when he had even encountered the trouble, on the coldest of nights, to lodge extensive snowballs in the beds, or to pour water into every boot. People have no perception of fun what- ever; and having undergone detriment by finding salt in their coffee or fishes in their pockets — nay, after having 102 neal's sketches. been caused to tumble down stairs through the devices of in- genious trickery, they rarely laughed, while Sherrie Koblei was convulsed with merriment. Isn't it queer 1 Not only so, but likewise when Sherrie endeavored to develop the martial spirit of the neighbor children, by indu- cing them to practise pugilism on each other, their moth- ers, weakly repugnant to the visual and nasal traces of the fray — variegations of black and crimson — were most vocif- erous in complaint, as if there must not be attendant draw- backs to the accomplishment of every good ; and the case was not much better when Sherrie undertook to match Brown's dog against Smith's cat, down there in the cellar. Besides, what harm is there in administering Cayenne pep- per to innocent urchins? Does it not make them friskier than they ever were before, in the whole course of their lives ] And if there be such voracity in ducks, that they will gobble up the stump of a lighted cigar, or try to chew a burning coal, whose fault is it, we ask you, that ducks are foolish ] Sherrie could not help it, if he desired to elicit fun, that his vicinity was always to be discovered by the roarings, yelpings, squealings, and scoldings, that invariably betokened his whereabouts ; and if he put out his foot as you passed — why didn't you take better care 1 — it was you that fell down — not he. Sherrie Kobler went at one time largely into the hoaxing business, and would, in your name, sometime amuse himself with advertising for cats or dogs in quantity, deliverable on your premises. Unwished-for cabs would call to convey you t(» most unwelcome places ; and the undertaker would come breathless with regret at your sudden demise, yet quite wil- ling to perform the job of this premature interment. Sherrie was likewise curious in what we may call peptic combina- tions, frequenting restaurants and oyster-cellars, to mix the castors after receipts of his own, which queerly united those various condiments that most people desire to commingle for themselves. He could also — accomplished youth — SHERRIE KOBLER. 103 sneeze so melodiously in church, as to provoke all the juve- niles to laughter; and at an opera, he yawned so loudly and so judiciously at the most dulcet passages of the prima donna, that while some chuckled, others again cried ** turn him out." It is he, likewise, that barks when the rest applaud. It will be seen, then, that fun is the staple of Sherrie Kob- ler's existence, and that fun he must have, at any cost and at any hazard. Let the poet ask, if he will, ** What is life with out passion — sweet passion of love V* Sherrie Kobler is con- vinced that life is not endurable or worthy of toleration with- out a large modicum of that species of sport which, while it is fun to him, is apt to be, comparatively, death to others. " What fun can we have here V is the first inquiry wherever he goes ; and if the circumstances be not productive of the article, rely on it that Sheme Kobler will surpass the leop- ard and change his spot immediately. Fun, to be sure, is, in his estimation, a very comprehensive phrase. If a horse runs away, that of course is fun, for somebody is hurt. So, too, with the upsetting of a vehicle. A riot, now, is fun alive, especially if a lad or two be carried home from it dead. There is a deal of fun, also, in a fire, should it be of the most destructive sort; and a street-fight answers the purpose ex- ceedingly well, if nothing more exciting be at hand. Break- ing things is fun, moreover, if it so turn out that Sherrie is not obliged to pay for them ; and the fun is greatly enhanced, if the sufferer has no redress and is quite unable to bear the loss. Turbulence in steamboats, and tumult in railroad-cars — that's tolerable fun, for want of better, if there are timid women present to observe the manliness of the affair; and all descriptions of roaring disturbances, every one of these is fun, according to Sherrie Kobler and his followers, of whom there are a good many " about in spots," at this pres- ent writing. And so, if suddenly metam.orphosed into a dictionary, and called upon authoritatively to give a precise definition of the thing called fun, by the Sherrie Koblers and by " the boys" 104 NEAL S SKETCHES. in general, it might be said, in sweeping terms, that fun is nuisance, and that nuisance is fun. Fun, to be fun at all, must annoy every one (excepting the funny ones themselves), who chance to be within the sphere of its influence ; and it rises in the scale of funniment, just in proportion as it in- creases in qualities of the disagreeable and painful sort. Thus Sherrie Kobler, being a funny one, rejoices in all man- ner of superfluous noises. He laughs with a reverberating yell and an explosive violence that remind one of the storm- ing of Ciudad Roderigo, or the Battle of Prague — the louder and the more appalling is his scream in proportion to the insignificance of the cause of laughter, as if to make up in din for a deficiency in sport. The slamming of doors " in the dead waste and middle of the night," is another of Sher- rie Kobler's enjoyments, as he rattles up and down stairs, like a drove of oxen or the battalion of flying artillery at drill ; and he practices upon trumpets, bugles, cornets, and so forth, precisely as the " sma' hours" of the morning begin to strike — enchantins: Sherrie Kobler! Sherrie has also a great fancy for the keeping of dogs — there's such a deal of fun in dogs — in dogs that bark, for example — sharp, excruciating, and excoriating terriers, down below in the yard, which challenge every passing footstep or recurring noise, with a piercing eloquence that causes each nerve to tingle ; or a forlorn pointer tied with a rope, that howls at moonbeams and yelps at the intervening cloud. There is a nocturnal pleasantry at Sherrie Kobler's, which must be felt to be appreciated. The dog at distance leads the choir, and never calls for aid in vain. The hint once given, the full pack open at once, and a general cry prevails. Who, then, so happy as Sheme Kobler, as he hears the sleepless neighborhood shout in vain from windows — "get out!" — "lie down!" — "shut up!" — whistling, coaxing, raging, for a little sleep, with dashings of water, and show- erings of bits of soap, of sticks, or brushes, or boots, just as the chamber furnishes material for such projectile demon- SHERRIE KOBLER. 105 Btrations 1 Ha ! ha ! fun alive for Sherrie Kobler. With euch a night, he is content to doze all day. Sherrie, you see, is fond of pets, because, as you may ob serve, when there are no other present means of eliciting fun, through the instrumentality of pets a secondary degree of fun may be extracted from the pet itself. A melancholy life, in the vast majority of cases, is the life of a pet — as sad almost as that of the retained jester of the olden time — and hence your pet — canine, particularly — is almost always cynical and misanthropic. Unhappy pet ! it is for thee to be washed, and combed, and adorned, and kept in chambers, with ribands and with bells, while thy brothers and thy sisters riot in dust and liberty ! It is for thee, too, to be taught tricks, all foreign to thy nature — to learn these sittings-up and lyings-down, and giving me your paw, and jumpings-over sticks ! Harsh rebukes are for thee, with slaps and pinches — fondlings now, and cuffings then, with all those bodily disquiets which arise from uncongenial atmospheres and un- wholesome feedings. Pampered and puffy pet — no wonder thou art cross, for thy whole existence is perchance a thwart- ' ing and a crossing of nature's design for thee ! — a splendid misery is thine, poor pet, even when most caressed and vaunted. No wonder pets will run away whenever doors are open. There is no slavery like to theirs. Pray, pity pets ; and pity, beyond all others, the pets of Sherrie Kobler, which are doomed, in one way or in another, to furnish fun, and which can not even take the naps of weariness and ex- haustion, without a chance of Canton crackers to the nose or distressing canisters to the tail. Thank your stars, my sigh- ing friend — that is, if you are ungrateful and repining — that we are not compelled to " hold opinion with Pythago- ras," or to have faith in the theory of transmigration ; for would it not be doleful to change hereafter into the pet of funny men ] Or what more fearful retribution could there be, than for the funny man himself — in quadrupedal meta* morphosis — to be converted into the pet of men still funnier 106 neal's sketches. and more practical in joking than he has ever been ] By the way, tyrannic — sir, shall we say, or madam — did it ever cross your mind, touching this realization of the " Lex Talionis,'" which will return you like for like, and cause you to feel remorsefully whatever pang you may have given to others 1 You, that chide and rail, beware lest the ser- vant's post be yours — you, that spur the willing steed to death, would such goadings thiill pleasantly through your own person? And, Sherrie Koblers, what if you should hold the p ace of pet to Sherne Koblers yet unborn ? Think of it often — ** what if my own measure be hereafter meted out to me V — and check the selfish impulse. Sherrie Kobler's last arrangement of this sort, is in the shape of a bull-terrier — an imported dog, direct from over sea, and full, of course, of savagenesses and prejudices — a carping, crusty dog, whose whole life is one of quarrel and of fence — a dog that never frisks or smiles. No man e'er saw a jocund wagging of the tail in him — no, nor a playful bound — obviously, a dog disgusted with the world — devoid of hope or love — of fear, favor, or affection. ** The funniest dog you ever saw," says Shenie Kobler ; "bite anybody but me; and when he once takes hold, he never lets go again. I never had so much fun with any dog in my life. He has had a bite out of almost everybody I know, and has swallowed samples of all my friends. He shakes 'em beautiful I You should see him astonish the match-boys and the apple-girls, when they come in at the front-door ; and every day, as I sit at the window, that dog, who can do anything but talk, is sure to gather a crowd. Sometimes he takes a horse by the nose, or another dog by the throat, or some respectable old gentleman by the calf of the leg ; and then the fun of it is to see 'em try to make him let go, with their cold water, big sticks, and all that. Yes, that dog — Ole Bull — is worth his weight in gold — the fun- niest dog anywhere's about." When Sherrie Kobler feels dull or dejected — as the gay- SHERRIE KOBLER. 107 est sometimes will — for there is no sunshine without its occasional cloud — he calls up Ole Bull to entertain him, and laughs to see the illustrious Ole chase visiters down stairs. You may see him now, disporting himself with the coat-tails of one of Mr. Sherrie Kobler's chief creditors, preparatory to munching up a portion of the individual. "Wonderful dog, that Ole Bull!" cried Sherrie Kobler : " he can tell a man with a bill in his pocket, just like a book — he can't bear anything bilious. Deal of fun in that dop- 5* But the chief creditor aforesaid had not a perceptive fac- ulty in reference to the humorous, especially when the joke was at his own expense. He intimated indeed — the unrea- sonable creature — that it was a little too bad to be bitten so deeply, first by Ole Bull's master, and then by Ole Bull him- self — the practice was too sharp altogether; and so he took measures to curtail Sherrie Kobler's enjoyment of life, and contributed to bring that amiable personage's public career as ** a man about town" to a melancholy close and a disas- trous twilight. Fun, we find, is not commercially productive, and is not yet regarded in the light of a legal tender for the payment of debts. Neither do bull-terriers pass current for bullion or relief-notes. Sherrie Kobler, therefore, could not pay, and consequently was allowed to joke no more at large; but as he left his lodgings, in charge of an officer, he took occasion to vent his exasperated feelings in a manner con- genial to the circumstances, by dealing out a potent kick to his deposed favorite, Ole Bull ; and Ole Bull — " Ingratitude more strong than traitors' arms" — did not hesitate to follow the lead thus given, according to the capabilities and resources with which he is gifted. Ole Bull borrowed a bit from his master. The officer laughed — swore it was comical — roared over it as a good joke — thought Ole Bull the funniest dog 7ie ever 108 neal's sketches. saw in Jiis life. But as for Shenie Kobler — hold! — let a veil be drawn over the griefs we can not hope to depict. The result proved that fun is fun, relatively — according to the position we occupy in regard to the act of fun. When Shenie Kobler laughed and roared, it is sure that some one else was weeping; and perhaps it would not be amiss for all, as they pass through life, to endeavor to view both sides of every question, that our enjoyment may not be neutralized in the broad account by the suffering of others — a wisdom to which, it may be, that Sherrie Koblers rarely help us. SINGLETON SNIPPE. 109 SINGLETON SNIPPE: WHO MARRIED FOR A LIVING. "Used to be — " "We have, as a general rule, an aversion to this species of qualifying phraseology, in which so many are prone to indulge. It seems to argue a disposition like to that of lago, who "was nothing, if not critical;" and it indicates a ten- dency to spy out flaws and to look after defect — a disposi- tion and a tendency at war, we think, with that rational scheme of happiness which derives its comfort from the re- flection of the sunny side of things. "It was" — " she has been" — " he used to be" — and so forth, as if all merit were a reminiscence — if not past, at least passing away. Is that a pleasure ? Would it not be quite as well to applaud the present aspect, and to be satisfied with the existing circum- stances, instead of murmuring over the fact that once it was brighter ? But yet there is a difference — Yes — decidedly — the matter here is beyond the possi- oility of a dispute. There is a difference — lamentable enough, you may term It — between the Singleton Snippe that was, and the Single ton Snippe that is. The Singleton Snippe that was, is not now an existence ; and the probabilities are that he never will be again. Nothing is stable in this world but instability ; and the livery-stable of to-day is converted into something else on the morrow, never more to be a stable, unstable stable. And so with men as well as with horses — for this perpetual revolutiorj 110 NEAL^S SKETCHES. of hunian affairs goeth not backward, except when the rope breaks on an inclined plane, making it a down-hill sort of a business. Snippe is on the down-hill — rather. The Singleton Snippe that is, stands picturesquely and pictorially before you — patiently, as it were, and on a mon- ument. And now, was there ever — we ask the question of those who remember Snippe in his primitive and natural state — was there ever a meiTier fellow than the said Singleton Snippe, in the original, if we may term it so — before the said Singleton was translated into his present condition, and be- came tamed down from his erratic, independent eccentricities to the patient tolerance of the band-box and the bundle? Who, thus remembering and thus contrasting Singleton Snippe as he was, with the Singleton Snippe as he is now portrayed, could possibly believe that there are processes in life — chymistries and alchymies — which could bring the man of to-day so diametrically opposite to the same man of yesterday ; and cause the Singleton Snippe of the past to differ with such strangeness from the Singleton Snippe of the current era? Two Snippes, as plain as may be; but legal- ly and responsibly the same Snippe. There was Snippe the bold — Snippe the reckless — Snippe the gay and hilarious r-- scoffing, joking, jeering Snippe — Snippe that was always on hand for mischief or for fun — Snippe, with the cigar in hit; mouth, or the champagne-glass in his grasp — yes, the veiy Snippe whom you have so often heard in the street, disturbing slumber by the loud and musical avowal of his deliberate determination not to " go home till morning," as if it would, barring the advantage of the daylight, be any easier to him then, and whose existence was ever a scene of ■uproar and jollity, except in the repentant intervals of head- ache and exhaustion. And then, besides his ornamental purposes, he was such a useful member of society, this Sin- gleton Snippe, in the consumption of the good things of this life at the restaurants and in the oyster saloon. SINGLETON SNIPPE. HI "Was not that a Snippe — something like a Snippe 1 But, alas for Snippe, the last representative of the illus- trious firm of " Tom & Jerry." Who is there now — now '.hat Snippe is withdrawn as a partner from the establish- ,,ent — to maintain the credit of the house? Snippe is snubbed — snubbed is Snippe. Well, well, well — let the watchmen — sweet voices of the night — rejoice in their boxes, if they will, over their pine-kindlings, and their hot sheet-iron stoves — rejoice in their cosy slumbers, that the original Snippe no longer molests their ancient, solitary reign, by uncouth noises, preliminary, symphonious, and symptomatic to a row. And let the cabmen — want a cab, sir ] — be merry, too, with rein in hand, or reclining against the friendly wall, that they are no more to be victimized by the practical jocularities of the school of Singleton Snippe. What relish have they for the gracefulness of existence — its little playful embellishments that bead and dimple the dull surface of the pond into the varieties of playful fantasy. Such as these would describe a boy of the superlative order of merit, as " one that goes straight home and never stops to play on the road ;" and we all know that Singleton Snippe never went straight home in the whole course of his experience. Home ! Home, it should be understood, so much vaunted by the poets, and so greatly delighted in by the antipodes to Snippe, is regarded in quite a different light — humdrumish — by the disciples of Snippeism. Home, according to them, is not so much a spot to retire to, as a place to escape from — a centre of rendezvous, no doubt, with the washerwoman, the bootblack, and other indispensable people of that sort. Snippe's new clothes were always sent home : and long bills, provocative of long faces, were apt to follow them with the certainty of cause and effect.- But to stay at home him- self— what— Snippe ?— He stay at home 1 He was called for occasionally at that point— his breakfast was taken there, 112 neal's sketches. when any degree of appetite remained from the preceding night; and a note would eventually reach its destination if left for him there. But it required a very unusual conjunc- tion of circumstances to find Singleton Snippe at home more frequently than could be helped. Home, in Snippe's estima- tion, was the embodiment of a yarn — he never heard of it without the most extended of gapes. He could not speak of it without opening his mouth to the extent of its volume ; and Snippe's mouth is not a diamond edition, but rather an octavo, if not rising to the dignity of a quarto, at least when he is drinking. " Home !" said he ; " home's a bore. What fun is there at home, except dozing over the fire, or snoring on a sofa V* Home, indeed ! — Talk to Snippe about staying at home, if you would risk a home-icidc. To be sure, when too ill to run about, Singleton Snippe remained unwillingly at home, as if it were an hospital ; and he stayed at home once for the space of an evening, merely to try the experiment, when he was in health ; but before he went to bed, Snippe had thoughts of sending for the coroner, to sit upon his body, but changed his mind and brewed a jorum of punch, which, after he had shod the cat with walnut shells, somewhat rec- onciled him to the monotony of domestic enjoyment. But Snippe never stayed at home again, not he. Home is where the heart is; and Snippe's heart was a traveller — a locomo- tive heart, preambulating ; and it had no tendencies toward circumscription and confine. That put him out of heart al- together. Wherever anything was going on — "a fight or a foot- race," according to popular phraseology, which thus dis- tinguishes the desirable in the shape of spectacular enter- tainment — there was Snippe, with his hat set knowingly on one side, to indicate that if others felt out of their element on the occasion, he, Snippe, was perfectly at home, under all circumstances — the more at home, the more singular the occasion, and the more strange the circumstance ; and his SINGLETON SNIPPE, 113 hat was the more knowingly set on to indicate the extent of his superiority to vulgar prejudices. It was the hat of a practical philosopher — a thorough-bred man of the world, who could extract sport from anything, and who did not care, so that the occurrence afforded excitement, whether other people thought it reprehensible or not. — Yes, yes — there is much in a hat — talk of your physiognomy and your phrenology — what are they as indications of character, feel- ing, and disposition, compared to the "set" of one's beaver? Look at courage, will you, with his hat drawn resolutely down upon its determined brow. Dare you dispute the way with such a hat as that 1 The meek one and the lowly, with his hat placed timidly on the back of his head — does not every bully practice imposition there 1 Hats turned up behind, indicate a scornful indifference to public opinion in all its phases — say what you will, who cares ] While the hat turned up before, has in it a generous confidence, free from suspicion of contempt. Nay, more — when science has made a further progress, why should not the expression of the hat afford knowledge of the passing mood of mind in its wearer, the hat shifting and changing in position as the brain beneath forms new combinations of thought? Let the shop- boy answer ; does he not discover at a glance, from the style in which his master wears his hat at the moment, whether he, the subordinate, is to be greeted with scoldings and re- proaches, or with commendations and applause 1 Does not the hat paternal forbode the sunshine or the storm ; and ay the pedagogue approaches school, where is the trembling truant who does not discern ** the morn's disaster" from the cockinor of that awful hat ? There can not be a doubt of it. o The science of the hat yet remains to be developed ; and deep down in the realms of ignorance are they who have not reflected yet upon the clue afforded by the hat to what is passing in the soul of him who wears it. Thus, you could distinguish Singleton Snippe's hat at a horse-race, at a riot, or at a fire — equally delighted was that 8 114 NKAI.'S SKETCHES. hat at every species of uproar — in the street — the lobhy — the bar-room, or wherever else that hat could spy out "fun," the great staple of its existence, with this advantage, that it had an instinct of peril, and could extricate itself from dan- ger without the slightest ruffling of its fur. Snippe was wise — Snippe preferred that all detriments should fall to the share of others, while the joke remained with him. Bui at last a change reached even unto the hat of Snippe — change comes to all; a change, singularly enough, that took all other change from the pockets of Snippe. He was oblig:ed to discover that the mere entertainments of life are not a commodity to live upon, and that however pleasant it may be to amuse one's self, the profits thereon accruing do not furnish continued means of delectation and delight. Snippe neglected his business, and consequently, his busi- ness, with a perversity peculiar to business, neglected Snippe — so that Snippe and Snippe's business had a fall- ing out. ** This will never do," declared Snippe, after deep reflec- tion on the subject of ways and means — ** never do in the world." But yet it did do — did do for Singleton Snippe, and effect- ually broke him up in the mercantile way, which involved all other ways ; and so Mr. Snippe resolved to make the most available market that presented itself for the retrieval of past error. Snippe resolved to marry — advantageously, of course. Snippe was not poetical — he had no vein of romance in his constitution; he could live very well by him- self, if he only had the means for that purpose ; but not hav- ing the means, unfortunate Snippe, he determined to live by somebody else, living of some sort being a matter of neces- sity in Snippe's estimation, though no other person could discover what necessity there was for the living of Snippe. The world might revolve without a Snippe ; and affairs gen- erally would work smoothly enough, even if he were not present. Snippe labored under a delusion. SINGLETON SNIPPE. 115 But Still — not having much of philosophy in his compo- sition to enable him to discover that, so far as the general economy of the universe is concerned, it was no matter whether Singleton Snippe obtained a living or not ; and lack- ing the desire, if not also the ability, to work out that living by Ids own energies of head and hands, Snippe, according to his own theory, having too much of proper pride and of commendable self-respect to engage in toil, though some of the unenlightened gave it the less respectful designation of Inziness, which, perhaps, is a nearer relative to the pride of the Snippes than is generally supposed — Snippe, as already in- timated, made up his mind to marry aforesaid — upon the mercantile principle — bartering Snippe. as a valuable com- modity (without regard to the penal enactments against ob- taining goods on false pretences), for a certain share of boarding and lodging, and of the other appliances required for the outfit and the sustenance of a gentleman of wit and leisure about town — Snippe offered to the highest bid- der — Snippe put up, and Snippe knocked down — going — gone ! Now, although there are many who would not have had Singleton Snippe about the premises, even as a gift, and would have rejected him had he been offered as a Christ- mas-box, yet there was a rich widow, having the expeiience of three or four husbands, who did not hesitate on the ex- periment of endeavoring to fashion our Snippe into the shape and form of a good and an available husband. Mrs. Dawkins was fully aware of the nature of his past life, and of the peculiarities of his present position. She likewise formed a shrewd guess as to the reasons which impelled him to seek her well-filled hand, and to sigh after her pleth- oric purse — Snippe in search of a living; but confident in her own skill — justly confident, as was proved by the result — to reduce the most rebellious into a proper state of sub- missiveness and docility, she yielded her blushing assent to become the bloomJng bride of Singleton Snippe, and to un- 116 neal's sketches. dertake the government of that insubordinate province, the state of man. " I shall marry Mrs. Dawkins," thought Snippe ; but, alas! how mistakenly; **I shall marry her," repeated he, " and, for a w^eek or two, I'll be as quiet as a lamb, sitting there by the fire a twiddling of my thumbs, and saying all sorts of sweet things about * lovey,' and * ducky,' and so forth. But as soon after that as possible, when I've found out how to get at the cash^ then Mrs. Dawkins may make up her mind to be astonished a little. That dining-room of hers will do nice for suppers and card-parties, and punch and cigars — -we'll have roaring times in that room, mind I tell you we will. I'll have four dogs in the yard — two pinters, a poodle, and a setter ; and they shall come into the parlor to sleep on the rug, and to hunt the cat whenever they want to. A couple of horses besides — I can't do without horses — a fast trotter, for fun, and a pacer for exer- cise ; and a great many more things, which I can't remem- ber now. But Mrs. Dawkins has a deal to leani, I can tell her. There's nothing humdrum about Singleton Snippe ; and if she did henpeck my illustrious predecessors, she has got to find the difference in my case." So Snippe emphasized his hat plump upon his brow, and looked like the individual, not Franklin, that defied the lightning. " And I shall marry Singleton Snippe," also soliloquized Mrs. Dawkins, " who is described to me as one of the wild- est of colts, and as being only in pursuit of my money. Well, I'm not afraid. A husband is a very convenient arti- cle to have about the house — to run errands, to call the coach, to quarrel with work-people, and to accompany me on my visits. Everybody ought to have a husband to com- plete the furniture ; and as for his being a wild colt, as Mrs. Brummagen says, I should like to see the husband of mine who will venture to be disobedient to my will when he has to come to me for everything he wants. I'll teach Mr, Sin- SINGLETON SNIPPE. 117 gleton Snippe to know his place in less than a week, or else Mr. Singleton Snippe is a very different person from the generality of men. Thus Singleton Snippe and Mrs. Dorothea Dawkins be- came one, on the programme above specified ; and thus Mr. Singleton Snippe, whose last dollar was exhausted in the marriage-fee, was enabled to obtain a living. Poor Snippe ! Glance, with tear in eye, if tears you have, at the por- trait of the parties, now first laid before the public — note it in your books, how sadly Singleton Snippe is metamorphosed from the untamed aspect that formerly distinguished him in the walks of men, and tell us whether Driesbach, Van Am- burgh, or Carter, ever effected a revolution so great as we find here presented. Observe the bandbox, and regard the umbreir — see — above all — see how curiously and how securely Singleton Snippe's hand is enfolded in that of Mrs. Singleton Snippe, that she may be sure of him, and that he may not slip from her side, and relapse into former habits — ** safe bind, safe find," is the matrimonial motto of Mrs. Sin- gleton Snippe. Moreover, in vindication of our favorite theory of the expression of the beaver, mark ye the droop- ing aspect of Snippe's chapeau, as if it had been placed there by Mrs. Snippe herself, to suit her own fancy, and to avoid the daring look of bachelor, which is her especial detestation. Snippe is subdued — a child might safely play with him. And now, curious psychologist and careful commentator on the world, would you learn how results, apparently so miraculous, were effected and brought about 1 Read, then, and be wiser. Snippe has his living, for he is living yet, though he scarcely calls it living — but Mrs. Snippe firmly holds the key of the strong-box, and thus grasps the reins of author- ity. The Snippes are tamed as lions are — by the mol lifying and reducing result of the system of short allowan 22 118 NEAL*S SKETCHES. ces. Wonderful are tlie effects thereof, triumphant over Snippes — no suppers, no cards, no punches, and no cigars. The dogs retreated before judicious applications of the broom-handle; and it was found a matter of impossibility to trot those horses up — the arm of cavalry formed no branch in the services of Singleton Snippe. Foiled at other points, Mr. Snippe thought that he might at least be able to disport himself in the old routine, and to roam abroad with full pockets in the vivacious field of for- mer exploit ; and he endeavored one evening silently to reach his hat and coat, and to glide away. " Hey, hey ! — what's that 1 — where, allow me to ask, are you going at this time of night, Mr. Snippe V cried the lady, in notes of ominous shai*pness. "Out," responded Snippe, with a heart-broken expres- sion, like an afflicted mouse. " Out, indeed ! — where's out, I'd like to know 1 — where's out, that you prefer it to the comfortable pleasures of your own fireside ?" *' Out is nowhere in particular, but everywhere in general, to see what's going on. Everybody goes out, Mrs. Snippe, after tea, they do." "No, Mr. Snippe, everybody don't — do I go out, Mr. Snippe, without being able to say where 1 am going to ] No, Mr. Snippe, you are not going out to frolic, and smoke, and drink, and riot round, upon my money. If you go out, I'll go out too. But you're not going out. Give me that hat, Mr. Snippe, and do you sit down there, quietly, like a sober, respectable man." And so, Mr. Snippers hat — wonder not at its dejection — was securely placed every eveni-ng under Mrs. Snippe's most watchful eye ; and Mr. Snippe, after a few unavailing eff'oJts to the contrary, was compelled to yield the point, to stay quietly at home, his peculiar destination, and to nurse the lap-dog, and to cherish the cat, instead of bringing poo- SINGLETON SNIPPE. 119 die and setter into the drawing-room to discontent the feline favorite. ** I want a little money, Mrs. Snippe, if you please — some change." ** And pray, allow me to ask what you want it for, Mr, Snippe 1" " To pay for things, my dear." " Mr. Snippe, I tell you once for all, I'm not going to nurture you in your extravagance, I'm not. Money, indeed ! — don't I give you all you wish to eat, and all you want to wear ? Let your bills be sent to me, Mr. Snippe, and I'll save you all trouble on that score. What use have you for money ] No, no — husbands are always extravagant, and should never be trusted with money. My money, Mr. Snippe — mine — jingling in your pockets, would only cempt you to your old follies, and lead you again to your worthless companions. I know well that husbands with money are never to be trusted out of one's sight — never. I'll take better care of you than that, Mr. Snippe, I will." If Singleton Snippe ever did escape, he was forthwith brought to the confessional, to give a full and faithful account of all that had occurred during his absence — where he had been — whom he had seen — what he had done, and everything that had been said, eliciting remarks thereon, critical and hypercritical, from his careful guardian ; and so also, when a little cash did come into his possession, he was compelled to produce it, and to account for every defi- cient cent. No wonder, then, that Singleton Snippe underwent " A sea change, Into something quaint and strange." He married for a living, but while he lives, he is never sure whether it is himself or not, so different is the Sin- gleton Snippe that is, from the Singleton Snippe that was. 120 neal's sketches. If you would see and appreciate differences in this respect, it would not be amiss to call upon the Snippes, and observe with what a subdued, tranquillized expression, the once dashing, daring Snippe now sits with his feet tucked under his chair, to occupy as little room as possible, speaking only when he is spoken to, and confining his remarks to " Yes, ma'm," and ** No, ma'm." Mrs. Snippe has *' conquered a peace." QUINTUS QUOZZLE*S CATASTROPHE. 121 QUINTUS QUOZZLE'S CATASTROPHE. A PHRENOLOGICAL ILLUSTRATION. Whether phrenology, in its details— geographical phre- nology, if we may call it so- which plots out the cranium, like a topographical engineer, giving a local habitation and a name to each distinct faculty of the mind — whether this hypothesis should be received as true or not, is a question about which, as the work of proselytism — either way— hap- pens to be none of our business, it is not the purpose to argue at this present writing. It may be, or it may not be— let learned doctors decide; taking care, however, that judgment is neither warped nor biased by personal interest in the matter. One is so apt to incline to that which flatters his own "developments," and to frown adversely upon a system which would register his intellectual gifts as rising only from «' pretty fair to middling." It is an impulse of our nature to love that which deals kindly with us ; and it will often be found that the ^ro and the con in the argument now alluded to, is more or less influenced by such considerations. With a cerebral expansion as rotund and majestic as a pumpkin, who can array himself in hostility to Gall and Spurzheim ] Greatness may not, perhaps, have as yet made itself appa- rent; but it is pleasant to think that it will at last come forth, and 'to rest in the faith that the day of our supremacy is about to dawn. But, on the contrary, if our upper story be Bet down as nothing remarkable, why should we subscribe to Combe, or believe that there is aught in measurement % The great and governing principle of the qvid pro quo demands 122 neal's sketches. our gratitude in tlie one instance ; but, in the other, it is evi- dent that no return is to be expected at our hands. Thus, it will be noted, for the most part, that the individ- ual who requires a hat of the extra size, habitually hiding his light under a bushel, and who, therefore, is unable to im- prove his craniological embellishment, even at the most crowded of tea-parties, by the appropriation of a newer and better beaver than his own — the fitness of things forbidding the exercise of such choice and discrimination, so far as he is concerned — is apt to look with a complacent eye u-pon the science to which we refer ; while the person whose physical man is crowned with a pippin, and to whom a thimble would serve as a helmet, is at once of opinion that the whole of these assumptions are ridiculous, and that, perhaps, the truth will eventually be proved to lie in a contrary direction. If it be said that we either are, or ought to be, a wit or a war- rior, a statesman or a philosopher, the intelligence falls agreeably upon the ear, and the inference is unavoidable, that there must be profundity in him who has been able to discover the latent fact, when not a sign of it is apparent to the general view, and when it is the first time that we have fallen even under a suspicion of being wiser than our neigh- bors. But should it be announced to us, that we have no business with ambition, and that our hope is a deceiver — that distinction is unattainable, and that the nursery predic- tions of our future glory were but the idle dream in which fond parents are apt to indulge — it is merely a defensive means and a retributive return, to set him down a simpleton who has the hardihood to tell us so. Let those, then, who would arrive at a candid conclusion, beware at once of Scylla and Charybdis, lest their heads come in contact with a post. Being, as it were, non-committal upon this point, it is enough just now to declare a decided belief — founded upon great research and careful investigation — that instances do occur when there is much in a head, and that there are cases QUINTUS QUOZZLE's CATASTROPHE. 123 to the contrary — fall cases and empty cases, but still cases in point ; establishing the fact, whith is something for philos ophy to go upon, that there are two varieties of the article in market. Many a man, deceived by the semblance which rests with the vacuity of a balloon upon his deluded shoul- ders, flatters himself with an idea that it is positively a head — available and efficient — and does not hesitate to make purchases for its adornment : he pets it up, and he brushes it down — has it trimmed, curled, and perfumed — admires it in the glass, and "goes ahead" with complacency — yet his friends and neighbors, in consultation, will shake their own heads, as they declare that he has no head at all, show- ing the strange diversities of opinion that exist in some heads on other heads. Nay, he will actually imagine, upon occa- sion, that his head aches — there are numbers, indeed, to whom the head is only a thing to ache with — and he ties it up in a napkin, to be deplored over and to be sympathized upon, at the very moment probably when society announces its conviction that — poor fellow — if he only had a head, what a good thing it would be. It is a delusion under which the community labors, that each member claims a head to himself, while the rest of the people are clear in regard to it, that he has none — only a symbol and an effigy of that useful appendage. Thus far, then, public opinion and phrenology have ad- vanced together. It is settled that there is a difference in heads — heads of reality and heads of appearance — heads by courtesy, and not of right. But whether the brain be a general power, ready to rush with all its force and with equal energy in any designated direction, or whether it be a con- geries of organs, distinct in function, but living together, so to speak, in a boarding-house, sometimes in harmony, but anon in antagonism, as often happens with inmates of various minds, tempers, fancies, and inclinations, is a matter that re- mains open for debate. In the case of Quozzle, now — Quintus Quozzle, who is 124 neal's sketches. tioubled with " self-esteem" — what is to be said 1 It is his peculiarity to " know better" than anybody else; and how- can he help it, that he is so much wiser than every other person with whom it is his fortune to meet 1 He could not, if he would, prevent himself from knowing better than they, even if it were desirable that there should be no display of superior intelligence. It is the instinct of Quintus Quozzle which operates on such occasions, and instincts are not easily to be repressed. Quozzle is not accountable, were it to be attributed to him as a fault, for his intellectual superiority to the rest of the world. His nicety of mental constitution was not a matter of his own choice. ** I would be a great deal happier, I know I should," said Quozzle, when he felt that he was not properly appreciated, and had reason to complain of the world's ingratitude, ** if I was not more than half as 'cute — to be extra 'cute is more of a misfortune than an advantage; and if I was just like other people, then I could be as foolish as other people, and as happy as other people, because I wouldn't know what a fool I was. There must have been some mistake about it : I was bom at least a hundred years too soon, and came into the world before it was ready for me. No one yet compre- hends Quozzle — no one can — it takes Quozzle himself to be up to Quozzle, and to appreciate his qualities; and if it wasn't for that — if I didn't know what a first-rate fellow I am, which is a great comfort, when other folks haven't brains enough to find it out — I would be wasted completely. It is the only pleasure the Quozzles have, to think how very green everybody else is. It makes 'em mad to say so, to be sure ; and they take revenge by hinting that I'm crazy ; but it's a sort of a tax and a tariff upon first-rate people to be called cracked — I don't mind being called cracked — the greatest people are always called the crack'dest people, out of spite." It is even so, Quintus Quozzle. The pioneer has an un- plearsant time of it. "He who surpasses or subdues mas- QUINTUS QUOZZLe's CATASTROPHE. 125 kind," must expect scratches in the bramble-bush ; and the men of superior views — especially the Quozzles — are generally in danger of being set down as a little "cracked." It is the short-hand method of disposing of them. " When they have nothing else to say — when they can't answer, and when they don't understand, they always try to get off by telling me I'm cracked ; and then I tell them tnat they are in no danger of such an accident — their heads won't crack by hard thinking — empty things and soft things never crack," added Quozzle. It, however, was not voluntary on Quozzle's part, that he is thus subjected to detraction. So far as his volition had a share in it, he might just as well have been somebody else. But since he is Quozzle, it is unavoidable to fulfil his voca- tion, and at least to endeavor to set other people right. True, they may say that Quozzle is a goose — which, when said of any one is apt to be unpleasant, if he happens to hear of it. Still, however, there is a balm for all such hurts to Quozzle's self esteem, in the reflection that what human nature thinks of him, is only an ignorant opinion ; while what he thinks of human nature, is an incontrovertible fact — a fixed fact. — " What do they know about it, the benight- ed individuals V says Quozzle. He feels that his perceptions are of a higher power than those which appertain to mankind in general ; and with a spontaneous waking *' clairvoyance," he sees direct through the opacity of millstones. Quozzle, therefore, is never puzzled and rarely perplexed, especially in regard to the course of action which others should pursue. If they would only consult him, no difficulty, impediment, or embaiTass- ment, could possibly arise — there would be no such word as fail — the mischances which so often occur, spring alto- gether from a neglect to take counsel with Quozzle. " If people would only take my advice," says Quozzle, " they would save themselves from a deal of trouble ; but people are so obstinate in their opinions — they insist upon 126 neal's sketches. it that they know best, when I tell them over and over again that they don't. They sometimes come to ask me about it, to be sure ; and if I think as they do, then they follow my advice; but if I don't think as they do — and I don't often — then they don't follow my advice. They ought to be a law passed to make 'em do as I tell 'em. — There's Stibbins, now, with a dozen children — limbs, every one of them. — Stibbins,' says I, 'them children of yourn, are decidedly the worst children I ever did see ; and it's a fact ; and Stibbins, you don't know how they ought to be fetched up, the bar- barous young aborigines — whale 'em, Stibbins, night and morning; and I don't care if I bear a hand myself — And what do you think Stibbins said 1 — why, Stibbins, says he, * There's the door, Mr. Quozzle,' says he — ' walk Spanish,' says Stibbins, says he, * or I'll be after whaling you, your own self;' and he swore his boys were the best boys about." In truth, Quozzle has a plan for every case — an alter- native for every emergency — he explains the principle of the locomotive to an engineer, and endeavors to make the captain comprehend the tiTie management of a steamboat — when he reads a newspaper, he sees at once that no one un- derstand editorship but himself, and when he returns from church, he is quite melancholy at the loss society suffers, because he had not been brought up to the ministry. ** If they would only let me teach them how to write sermons," says Quozzle, " good would come of it — I've got the right idea — call that preaching, indeed ! — but no one knows but me — I'd make 'em understand the eiTor of their ways — I'd — but what's the use of talking ? — We must put up with it, I suppose ; and it's not my fault there is so much wicked- ness about ; for when I call upon those whose business it is to see after it, and furnish them with hints, they say, ' Good morning Mr. Quozzle — I'm obliged to you, Mr, Quozzle; I'm busy just now, Mr. Quozzle ; but I'll think of what you suggest, Mr. Quozzle,* and that's the end of it. " Why, when I called upon the sheriff and the mayor to QUINTUS QUOZZLe's CATASTROPHE. 127 explain to 'em how to put down riots by using the engines and squirting riot out, on the teetotal principle, squenching them at once, the people said I was a stupid pump; and the constable opened the door and told me to navigate like a duck. But cold water is the doctrine, and they'll all have to come to it at last. AVho would stand still to be played up(m ?" Mr. and Mrs. Fubbs did not agree very well — there were rumors of fierce discussions over the breakfasL-table ; and it was said that " twist-loaves" passed to and fro sometimes in the way of a missile ; but when Quozzle went to see them on an errand of peace, the result came near being disastrous. By way of preliminary, he had merely hinted to Mr. Fubbs that he was inclined to be a bear, and had also informed Mrs. Fubbs that she was by no means so wise a person as she might be, rendering it impossible for them to live com- fortably together without his advice — he knew how to gov- ern wives and to recrulate husbands — when the contending: o o forces united against the pacificator, and fairly turned him out of doors. "You, Quozzle," screamed Mrs. Fubbs, "never let me see your ugly face here again the longest day you have to live ! — my Fubbs a bear, indeed ! If he did throw a ' twist* at me, didn't I dodge V* "Put out, Quozzle — I'm getting dangerous — my wife a fool, only because she never knows when to hold her tongue, or to quit aggrawatin' ! Just say that twice more, and clear me of the law !" added Fubbs, assuming a pugilistic attitude, as Quozzle disappeared round the corner. Quozzle has the genius for criticism in every department — there is nothing within the range of human effort, which might not be better done, if he were permitted to advise, or if he were allowed to undertake the execution tliereof. When Macready personated Hamlet, Quozzle smiled rather derisively in the midst of the applause ; and when Forrest as Spartacus brought down thunders of approbation, Quozzle 128 NEAL*S SKETCHES. was sure that he could have made the character more effect- ive. Indeed, in both cases, he satisfied himself of the cor- rectness of his impression, by corking his eyebrows and go- ing into a tragic phrensy before the glass. No one could have been more alarmed than Mrs. Sampler, the landlady^ when Quozzle told her to ** go to a nunnery, go !" and poor Boots has not completely recovered to this day from the ter- ror of it, when, in answer to his humble tap at the door, Mr. Quozzle caught up the poker and cried out ** Let 'em come in — we're armed!" — Boots rolled headlong down the stairs; nor did the added cry of" freedom to gladiators and to slaves," serve at all to tranquillize his nerves. He is clearly of opin- ion that Mr. Quozzle is affected with the hydrofogy ; while Quozzle thinks that but for the accident of position, the stage would now be graced with the presence of another GaiTick. Ole Bull is clever enough in his peculiar department ; but yet if Quozzle only had time to attend a little to the violin, the public, perhaps, would have the chance to hear a better tone and a more touching expression. Quozzle has a theory of his own in regard to fiddles. The capabilities of that in- strument are not yet fully developed ; and in the other divis- ions of musical endeavor, if Quozzle were only a woman, Norma would at last have justice done to her. The whole neighborhood must be aware of the fact — do they not hear Quozzle sing 1 And as for dancing — what nonsense to talk about Elssler. Look at Quozzle when he kicks. Quozzle, however, is. not quite forlorn upon his Alpine height of intellectual eminence. There is one person, at least, to treat him with respect and deference — Bob Spanker — and Bob never thought that Quozzle had the misfortune to be cracked — Spanker never thinks at all — nor had he said so, even in the way of joke — Spanker rarely says any- thing, and was never known to joke — he abhors joking — he can not imagine what it means. Spanker drives a buggy, and suffers Quozzle to talk to him and to give him good ad- QUINTUS QUOZZLe's CATASTROPHE. 129 vice. A world of wisdom has thus been addressed to Spanker, and Spanker is remarkable for having kept it all to himself. They are consequently well calculated to travel together, as Quozzle does not keep a buggy for his own use, and as Spanker can not always find a companion to ride out with him. Quozzle criticises the construction of buggies and theorizes upon the art of driving ; Spanker continually keeps saying nothing, and is rather soothed than otherwise by the hum of Quozzle's voice, the idea not being suffered to penetrate. It was on an occasion of this sort, that Quozzle and Spanker rode down to Point Breeze, it being Quozzle's determination to let the folks thereabouts see how the noble game of ninepins ought to be played. ** I'll astonish 'em, Spanker," said Quozzle, as he took his seat. But he did not remain quiet long. " See here, Bob," remarked Quozzle, " you don't know how — upon my word you don't — see here, now — just lend me the whip," and Quozzle took the instrument from his hand — "now then — let's pass these fellows — you steer, and I'll cut — there's nothing requires more judgment than to cut at the light moment — there's a genius in cutting." And, after causing the lash to whistle scientifically round his head, Quozzle did *' cut" with a vengeance. Spanker's horse was indignant at the unwonted infliction and at the un- pleasant affliction; and, after rearing and plunging for a mo- ment, the outraged animal dashed forward with the speed of lightning. "Hold him in. Bob! — why don't you hold him in?" screamed Quozzle ; " why don't you stop him, as I tell you ?" " Why because I can't hold him in," replied the panting Mr. Spanker, " and because he won't stop — he'll neyer stop any more." " Let me," cried Quozzle, somewhat alarmed at the ex- tremity of the danger, "let me — you don't know how — you pull one rein, and I'll pull the other." But, as in such at- 9 130 neal's sketches. tempts it is difficult nicely to adjust the balance of power, and to preserve a due equilibrium, the vehicle, naturally enough, swung round as if on a pivot, dashing against the market-cart of an old lady, from " down the neck." Now any one who has happened to try the experiment, must be perfectly aware that the delicate grace of a buggy, notwith- standing its superior costliness, seldom comes in contact with the masculine energy of a market-cart, without experiencing some degree of detriment, while the cart itself cares little or nothing about the matter. Bob Spanker's establishment was doomed to realize the philosophical correctness of this position, being, as it were, resolved into its original elements. As for the horse, he set forth, rapidly enough, on an excur- sion of pleasure, to be charged to his own individual account, as he did not see that he could be of further use, under all the circumstances of the case ; and he carried two little bits of shaft with him, as a relic of the catastrophe ; leaving both Quozzle and Spanker to repose ignominiously in the dust. The old lady, in a charitable manner, placed a cabbage under each of their heads, considering the vegetable to be appropriately soft and calculated to sooth their anguish, and they lay for a time, " like warriors taking their rest." ** Poor dears," cried the lady, benevolently, '* I shouldn't wonder if each of 'em had cracked his calabash, they came down with such a squash. Before I could say beans, they were both shelled out, and here they are ; they sprung up like a hopper-grass, but are cut down like a spaiTow-grass." ** Who says I'm cracked?" gasped Quozzle ; " I told him what to do — but nobody knows what to do, and nobody knows how to do it, when they are told, except myself — trust 'em and you're sure to be upset. Next time I must cut and drive too!" It was, therefore, evident enough, that whatever else might be broken, Quozzle's organ of self-esteem remained unhurt, proudly triumphing over the wreck of carriage and the crash of carU Whenever he alludes to the matter, he instances it QUINTUS QUOZZLe's CATASTROPHE. 131 as another evidence of the incapacity of other people to hold the reins — nobody knows h(jw to drive but himself If Spanker had followed his advice to " hold in," he is sure that no mischief could have happened. But it is the inevita- ble luck of the Quozzles to encounter mischance through the inefficiency of other people — somebody else is always in fault; and Quozzle is determined never again to take a ride, unless he has the whole and sole control of the enter- prise. Spanker is of opinion that Quozzle should pay at least half the damage ; but Quozzle objects, on the ground that he was only a passenger— according to his view, it is a limited partnership in such cases, involving the invited guest only to the extent of his neck. 132 neal's sketches. DASHES AT LIFE: OR, SPLASHES IN PHILADELPHIA. It has always been a favorite scheme with the philan thropic to provide bathing for the million, so that every one at least once a week, should be enabled to enjoy the luxury of a cold bath, in addition to the salutary effects of that spe- cies of application ; and accordingly, from time to time, a multitude of plans have been proposed to accomplish that desirable end, washing for the million ! How much there is of tonic influence in the idea 1 How the eyes sparkle and the cuticle glows at the thought of these amphibious recrea- tions. Water is cheap — water is plenty — there are whole rivers, lakes, oceans of water running to waste. But as civ- ilized man — man who must live in the close pent city, and devote every waking hour to the toil of providing for sub- sistence — can not well go to the water, and as the water does not come to him in spontaneous lavations, this washing for the million remains, throughout the world, rather a mat- ter of theory than of practice, and ** the great unwashed" is perhaps a phrase of as much import as when it was first coined in derision of the unfortunate. Thus it is everywhere — almost everywhere — indeed, everywhere, except in Philadelphia. No one who walks our streets can have reason justly to complain that there is anything of niggardliness in the distribution of water here- abouts ; and whether you wish the footbath — pediluvium — or a showery application to the head and shoulders, you may be certain of it that your desires will be gratified to the ufr ^^^ky:^^^ - DASHES AT LIFE; OR, SPLASHES IN THILADELPHIA — Book II, page 132. DASHES AT LIFE. 133 most. In fact, it is not necessary to express a wish to this effect. Solicitations are not at all required. It is taken for granted here that everybody is in part amphib- ious — web-footed — and therefore equally at home in either element. Come, then, to Philadelphia, if you would enjoy bathing for the milHon, in its most perfect and widest application. If you are dry and athirst — feverish possibly from a distem- pered spirit, or ill-regulated diet — passionate and irascible, from what cause you will — we would recommend an after- breakfast saunter, especially through the streets where fash- ion most resides. Observe, now — there's Sam with a hose rising through the sidewalk — Sam's a colored gentleman, and therefore fond somewhat of a little brief authority — Sam converts the bricked footway, by these processes of irri- gation, into the loveliest miniature of a lake that can possibly be imagined, while Peter with his broom is particularly careful to scatter the waters far and wide, that he may dis- cover the degree of science in the art of dancing possessed by each by-passer. But busy as they may be thus below, it will be found that the series of hydropathic exercises is by no means confined to the groundwork of things. In all like- lihood, Susan and Nancy are quite as busy at the windows of the upper stories as Samuel and Peter have proved them- selves to be in the region of the basements ; and conse- quently, unless favored with that peculiarity of vision which enabled one to glance simultaneously at earth and heaven, *' in fine phrensy rolling," as the poets have it, all the care used in reference to our footsteps will prove unavailing to save our bonnets or our hats. In one way, or in another, we are irretrievably lost — splashed, drenched, ducked, de- stroyed ! Pooh!— talk of Venice — "I stood in Venice," and all that, including Jaffier and Belvidera — what is Venice, aquat- ically, when measured — liquid measure — "two pints make a quart," and so forth — what is Venice, viewed in its hy- 23 134 neal's sketches. dranlic relationsliips, compared to our rectangular Philadel- phia. Venetian canals are slow and slugb^ish — but we dash in Philadelphia, and we splash in Philadelphia, and emulate the cataracts. Talk, will ye, of the "blue rushings of the arrowy Rhone." Wait until you have experienced the rush- ings of a bucketful of Schuylkill as it comes down sluicingly from third stories ; and then, and there, you will better un- derstand the force of projectiles and the peculiar beauties of the " douche" as recommended by Priessnitz and the finny followers of the school of Graefenberg. Venice, sayest thou ? Why ours are living waters that come down upon you, leap- ing down, as it were, with loudest laughter, in the wildness of their joy. We do not deny it that the gondola may be swift as it glides beneath palace- wall — romantic, no doubt, if the guitar tinkles and the verses of Tasso are sung; but swift, as the gondola may be, we are very sure it does not hurry the passenger along so fast as the bucket and the dipper, when judiciously applied ; while the paddle and the oar are weak indeed as a propulsive force compared to wet brooms and twirling mops ; j^nd as for poetry — listen to the excla- mations of the drenched stranger, who has not yet learaed the art of navigation, and upon whom the floods come una- wares. There's poetry, my friend — the utterance of pas- sion. The Venetians, forsooth ! — leave them to their stag- nant canals, and stroll with us through the streets of Philadelphia, if you are an admirer of the picturesque and would see water in all the varieties of its display. What is there more graceful than water, unsophisticated water, as it snorts in unaffected ease, and is thus careless of all observa- tioii ? Is it summer ? — you may swim ; be it winter — you can slide ; for the seasons make but little difference in our fondness for the domestic deluge ; and it is probably an effect from this cause, that Philadelphia, with its multitudinous spouts, has given so many actors to the stage. But " enough of water hast thou, poor Ophelia ;" and we shall, therefore, bring our chnpter to a close, desiring all to DASHES AT LIFE. 135 remember that so far as the use and the abuse of water are concerned, we are disposed to yield to none. The Croton itself can not bring our parallel of latitude in this respect ; and if it be your desire to get along sv\timmingly, come to Philadelphia by all manner of means. Still, however, the aquatic branches above alluded to, are not all that spout and flourish in the streets of Philadelphia. Formerly, the operations were confined to the sidewalks and to the fronts of the houses ; but now — such is the progress of luxury — a new and extended method of irrigation is adopted, by damming up the gutters during the dry and dusty weather, that the somewhat discolored and rather un- savory slackwater navigation, which is thus accumulated, may be dispersed far, wide, and several times in the course of the day, by the skilful and daring hand of some colored contractor, in order that the pulverizations of mother earth, so ground down and champed up to the minutest fineness by the unceasing roll of omnibus and cart, may lie still and slumber, for the exemption and the benefit of all the fancy establishments of the fashionable streets. This is a new peril added to the many which before beset our daily walks ; and lucky are they who contrive to pass along unspotted from the world. The clear, fresh water is per- haps bad enough ; but when it comes to the kennels sown broadcast, if we may be allowed the expression, one is to be excused if some slight expression of annoyance escape the lips. It is unnecessary, therefore, to endeavor to delude us with flaming placards about ** cataracts of real water," or to strive to draw us from our homes by talk concerning the wonders in that respect which are to be seen in the course of travel. We have all these things at home — displayed at our very doors — surrounding our footsteps wherever we may chance to go ; and if any one desires to take preliminary lessons in the art of " getting along," as practiced in the city of "brotherly love," our advice may be briefly convoyed by 136 neal's sketches. reference to the engraving we have given. It requires much natural agility — a bound, for example, as quick and as elas- tic as the springing of the kangaroo — in eye quick to per- ceive, conjoined to mi ear which detects the faintest sound. It is a species of ballet, demanding many clstssic poses, and as great a variety of steps as ever emanated from the schools of Taglioni, Elssler, or Cerito, it being taken for granted that every one is acquainted with the customs of the country — that none venture into the streets who are not capable of taking care of themselves, or that they go forth fully pre- pared for any of the consequences that may ensue. It will not answer, therefore, to be so absorbed in self as to forget all other circumstances, or else the absorption may be ex- tended in a manner more consfenial to coolness than to com- fort; and so, if all the senses be not possessed in the highest perfection — if you are not well qualified for the nicest per- sonal management, and are at the same time at all affected by the "sad hydrofogie," a walk through the streets of Phil- adelphia, especially of a Saturday, has as many perils as spring from the uses of cold iron. Cleanliness, they say, is next to godliness, and without a doubt upon it, cleanliness is one of the most virtuous of all the virtues. Hence — by splash of water — we of Philadel- phia are disposed to yield the palm to none in whatever goes to make up the moral part of character. Do you impugn our excellence — deride our benevolence — sneer at our hon- esty, or find fault with our public spirit — do you so ] Look to the hydrants, the fire-plugs, the washers, and the scourers — then assume it if you can, that a spot remains upon our reputation. Not a stain could possibly maintain itself there for the space of a single week, so obstinate are we in the performance of our ablutions ; and should posterity at all de- generate, we place the picture given as an evidence on record, that once at least we were the best-washed people upon the face of the universal earth — second only to the mermans and the mermaidcns, who, we doubt not, would DASHES AT LIFE. 137 find in the Philadelpbian a spirit congenial to their own, thoucrh we do not often appear in public with a comb and a mirror to warn the erring from the rocks. We are a nice people — the fact is one that admits of no disputation ; and should a second deluge arise, we should be sadly disappoint- ed, if we were found unable to float upon the surges that overwhelm those less happily constituted. 138 npat/s sketches. THE TRIALS OF TIMOTHY TANTRUM. That's a Tantrum. No difficulty about it, at all. With ^ordinary discernment, you may tell a Tantrum as far as you can see one, by the distressed and dissatisfied expression of its countenance — ** Tantrumical," if we may term it so. A numerous family, too, these Tantrums — to be found everywhere in this vale of tears ; and few but happy are they who have neither tem- porary attachment nor enduring relationship to the Tan- trums. Who is there, indeed, even among the most placid, that is not more or less, and off and on, affected and afflicted by the influence of the Tantrums ? Bar the door as we may — resolve against them as we will — the house, we fear, is yet to be built which does not at times exhibit traces that the Tantrums visit its fireside. It is difficult to rid ourselves altogether of the Tantrums, even the wisest and firmest of us ; while some people are monopolized by Tantrum, in in- finite variety — Tantrumed beyond redemption, in every turn of thought and change of feeling. But this is only one of the Tantrums — a specimen num- ber of the whole work. It is Timothy Tantrum, the Man of Trials ; and perhaps — if you have tears — that is, for any but yourself — prepare to shed them now — when Timothy is to be spoken of, it would not be amiss — in the way of condolings — to summon up the sob of sympathy, and to un- fold the handkerchief of tribulation. Timothy Tantrum — yea, examine him physiognomically — is one of those un- lucky personages who are always under a shade, and who are attended by a double allowance of shadow. They have THE TRIALS OF TIMOTHY TANTRUM. 139 „o experience in sunshine, but dwell in the desolate reg.ons »f perpetual cloud and everlasting storm. If it is not ram- in., there, it snows ; and thus poor Timothy Tantrum car- riers the atmosphere of sadness with him wherever he goes The barometer falls at his approach, down to "squally, m thereabouts; and Timothy Tantrum presents 1"™^«> ^ '^ °^': servation as the inevitable i.>dividual who ,s always caught in showers without an umbrella-the forlorn one, of a gus.y afternoon, that can not overtake an omnibus, and is h.m- self alone" as he drips down the street. But w^at is Tan- trum, afloat, as it were-what is Tantrum to do? If he should run now, all experience shows that the ram would only come down the faster-the same quantity in a shortei space of time; and if he were to wait for it to stop they are but little acquainted with the malign disposition of the ele- ments in their bearing on the Tantrums, who are yet to be informed that it never stops when Tantrum is wait.ng. .. Rather than so," we should have a freshet, if not a de - u^e The shower makes it a point never to " hold up till all the Tantrums who are out, are wet through and through -saturate, Timothy and the rest -and it may be observed to clear off. derisively, just as Timothy reaches home in a state of damp. •' Why didn't you wait till the rain was over ! Why % . , Timothy Tantrum wrings himself, with the grimmest of smiles, but says nothing. Was there ever a rainbow -con d there be a rainbow -except at the instant when he had ab- sorbed the greatest possible quantity of moisture 1 ihere is no such fact on record. Unlike Napoleon, Timothy Tantrum has neither a sun ot Austeriitz, nor a "bright particular star," to his destiny- no star at all, unless it be a star in eclipse, or on the princi- ple of Da.'ferwood's " moon behind a cloud." If he has a Btar it is r star of the funereal sort- a star with weepers Bhinin- black and radiating gloom. Luck ! -has ho luck 1 140 neal's sketches. It must be bad luck, then ; and Timotliy Tantrum considers himself as a target, set up for the special purpose of being shot at by the arrows of disaster, which hit him invariably, whatever be the case with other people. Anything thrown out as he comes along, is sure to go right into the eye of Mr. Timothy Tantrum, the lineal descendant of that celebrated ufferer in a similar way, who, if there be truth in epitaphs met his fate " at the hands" of a sky-rocket. It had been si with Tantrum, had he been there ; and the other man would have gone on his way rejoicing, with all his eyes in his head. Tantrum's mind is of that peculiarity in grief, that it seems to have " crape on its left arm," not "for thirty days" alone, but for ever. It is always in mourning, and has no associate except calamity. Should he be surprised and overtaken, at an unguarded moment, by a laugh — ha ha! — he! he! — ho! ho! and so forth — the outward and physical expression of an interior and metaphysical hilariousness — it would not only amaze his ears and astonish his unprac- tised organs, but he would likewise be convinced that "some- thing is going to happen," of a kind calculated to translate jocundity to the opposite side of the facial aperture, anti- podean to men'iment ; and he thus cuts the risible short off, with a look of alarm, lest it should remind misfortune that it had not yet completely annihilated Timothy Tantrum. As a little boy — "Love was once a little boy," and so was Timothy Tantrum — as a little boy, then, he never went out without returning in a roar of grief, and in a tem- pest of indignation, announcing to all the house that Tim — unhappy — was again on hand — somebody had slapped Tim — or somebody had tumbled Tim right into the kennel, Tim having on his " Sunday's best," to go and see his grand mother, illustrating the curious affinity between nicely dressed children and the kennel — especially as regards th«. Tantrum children — or else Tim's playthings had beei; wrested from him — a big fellow had beaten Tim — sponta- neously, of course. For he — how could you wrong our THE TRIALS OF TIMOTHY TANTRUM. 141 Timmy so ? — he had " done nothing to nobody" — he never did " do nothing to nobody," according to his own account. No ! not even to the cur that barked at Tim, and wanted to bite him ; it being one of Tim's " features " to be always in trouble, but never in the wrong. You see — a conspiiacy from the outset against Timothy Tantrum. The world had determined, ad initio — that is, from the time he wore frock and trowsers — to be continually pulling Timothy Tantrum down, and never letting Timothy Tantrum up, the naughty world, that always frowns on merit and persecutes the de- serving. Why won't it let the Tantrums alone 1 Investigation, to be sure — but why investigate, to disturb your conclusions'? — might discover that "our Tim" — the darling — had indulged a little in sauciness to lads not alto- gether disposed to pocket it; or that, perchance, he had en- deavored playfully to abstract a cheiished bone from curs not given to the sportive mood. But here it is again, in regard to the Tantrums — Tim was not comprehended and understood. He had come in contact with inferior natures, incapable of the requisite appreciation ; and, as usual, no allowances were made for the child, who only wanted to have his own way, after the fashion of the Tantrums, and asked for nothing more than that his way should be allowed to take precedence of other people's ways ; the trouble, from first to last, arising from the oppugnation of obstinacy, which forgets that the Tantrums are antagonistic by nature, and can not get along at all except in the opposite direction — for instance — right against you, and contrary to the general grain. Now, it is a self-evident proposition, that if you and the general grain are indisposed to yield — ** about face," and so — the Tantrums are of necessity crossed, irritated, and exasperated, and can have no peace because of your belligerant habits of mind, which foolishly lead you to pre- fer your own way to the way of the Tantrums — a way that they know to be the right way; v^hile your way — indispu- tably — is the wrong way — the transgressive way. 142 nhal's skktches. "But," as Timothy Tantrum has judiciously remar'ked, at least a thousand times, " it is always cold when I wish it to l»e warm; and warm invariably when I desire that it should he cold. If I want to go out, then, of course, it's stormy — raining cats and dogs ; and when I don't care whether it's clear or not, and would rather, maybe, that it was not clear, why then it is as bright as a new button, as if it was laugh- ing at me. 'Spose I've no use for a thing — it's there, ever- lastingly, right in the road — I'm tumbling over it a dozen times a day. But when I do want that very thing, is it ever in the way then? No, I thank you — no! — it w^ouldn't be if it could. And when I hunt it up, if it allows itself to be found at all, which it won't if it can help it, that thing is morally certain to be the very last thing in the closet, or the undermost thing in the drawer. It's the nature of things, which are just as crooked and just as spiteful as people are. Can anybody ever find his hat when there's a fire? Don't the buttons disappear from sleeves and collars whenever you're in a hurry to go to a tea-party? And at the very last moment — the bell done ringing — all aboard — isn't some- thing — the very thing of all other things you ought to have — isn't that thing sure to be a mile off, at home, grinning at you from the mantel-piece ?" No wonder, then, that the Tantrums are always in despair. Should Timothy be sent for in haste, the left boot is sure so to offer itself that the right foot may be jammed fast in the instep — owing, past doubt, to the constitutional perverseness of boots, which, if they can not contrive to be too tight, and to pinch you into misery, will manage it so as to come home •with a sharp peg in their sole, to harrow up your sole ; and which never will " go on" of a warm morning, until we have toiled and tugged ourselves into fevers for the day. And should Timothy, indignant and sudorific, should he, in a spe- cies of retributive justice, jerk the aforesaid left boot from his innocent right foot, to dash it — the boot, not the foot — across the room, as some punishment to its untimely trick- THE TRIALS OF TIMOTHY TANTRUM. 143 is-hness, did any one ever know that boot — still exemplify- ing the perverseness of boots in particular, and of things in general — to fail in jumping to the very place of all places that it should not have gone to — the only place in the cham- ber where it could upset a lamp or break a looking-glass ? But it is a folly to talk to boots — Tantrum swears at his, by the hour, yet finds, after all, that boots are but boots. It would be comparatively nothing, however, if such were the limit of Tantrum's vexation. He might escape from boots, and secure a shelter in slippers. But the hostile alli- ance against him is comprehensive — it not only includes all the departments of art, but likewise embraces the pro- ductions of nature. Should Tantrum's arms stick in the sleeve of Tantrum's coat — did that coat, in the pervading treachery, and as he thrust his determined arm into it, hesi- tate, if it were only for an instant — hesitate to rip in seam, or refuse to tear in cloth, in a manner never practised by well-behaved coats, and rarely by any coats at all, except by the coats of the Tantrums ] Was it not from the fii'st like an incubus on Tantrum's mind, that this coat would go "all to flinders" on some occasion when he must have a coat, and could get no other coat 1 Yes, this identical coat, that positively would not come home, try all they would, for weeks after it was promised, and appeared to resist every effort at finishment. And more — in the course of your acquaintance with the Tantrums, you must have noticed, of a cold evening, when Tantrum desired to " Adonise," that he might be intensely agreeable to all beholders, and ** lovelily dreadful" to the ladies, that "that razor" would cut his chin in defiance of all he could do to the contrary ; and that, besides, the pitcher would not have any water in it, the servant would be gone out, and the way to the hydrant would be one glare of slip- pery ice — a long, complicated conspiracy of things to defeat Tantrum's hopes, and to disturb his complacency, if not to give Tantrum a tumble. Nay, more — the very pitcher con- 144 neal's sketches. trived to crack, and the basin went to fragments, merely to aggravate Tantrum still farther, as he slapped them together, in a well-founded scorn of their provoking emptiness ; while the candle, too — in emulation of the fires, and in imitation of the servants — does it not "go out" whenever Tantrum opens doore, or runs in agile movement up the stair 1 And should he "send it flying" — as it so well deserves — they have studied the characteristics of the candle to but little profit, who do not expect, under these circumstances, to hear a crash of valuables. Try it, if you are incredulous — just leave a candle unwatched, and our life upon it, there will be arson and incendiarism in a very little time. It has no compunctions about setting the house afire, if it can, that candle, meek and innocent as candles always look. Trust them not ! While it is thus between the Inanimate and the Tantrums, the case is but little better, as before hinted, between the Animates and the Tantrums. Creation is a porcupinity, with its sharp-pointed quills stuck out in all directions, im- paling the Tantrums at every movement they may chance to make. The universe is a brambledom, for the scarification of ankles; and whatever the hand of Tantrum falls upon, what else can it be but a nettletop 1 It is all nettletop to the Tantrums — for there is nothing innocuous unless we choose to take it so ; but the Tantrums will insist on it, that the in- nocuousness shall be as they choose to take it, and that all the smoothness is to be in their peculiar direction. In con- sequence whereof, how the Tantrums suffer in this rasping, sand-papered, gritty sphere of fret and friction, to which for a time they are doomed, like Hamlet's ghost, ** to fast in fires." There is no accordance or concordance in it. We shall find it a hopeless task, even the endeavor, simple as it may appear, to induce any other man to wear his hat after the excellent mode and fashion in which we wear our hat. And yeU why should he not 1 Tantrum, at least, can discover no flufficient reason for the nonconformity; and he would, on THE TRIALS OF TIMOTHY TANTRUM. 145 philanthropic grounds alone, like to be armed with a power to compel that other man to wear his hat correctly. *' Any man who persists in wearing his hat at such an angle as that, after I have explained the matter to him, must be a fool, if indeed he is not something a great deal worse;" and Tan- trum tells him so, in the plainest phrase, for the dissemina- tion of truth. The same rule, of course, holds good in poli- tics, and in all matters of practice and opinion. Yet when Tantrum informs people of the fact, without circumlocution or indirect phraseology, they quarrel with Tantrum, and call Tantrum hard names, and say that they know as well as Tan- trum knows, and will continue to do as they please, without the slightest regard to the principles laid down by Tantrum — and so the world and its affairs go wrong, just as the world and its affairs have always gone, and just as the world and its affairs will continue to go, all the efforts of the Tantrums to the contrary notwithstanding. ** Where are you running to now V cries Tantrum, sharp- ly ; for this unremitting opposition, like a whetstone to the knife, will set any one on edge. ** Home to dinner." ** Home to dinner ! What do you have dinner at this time fori This is no time for dinner. Look at me — I don't go to dinner now. Never have dinner, I tell you, till you are hungry. I don't — none but fools do !" *' But I am hungry now — I want my dinner." "You can't be hungry — I'm not hungry — and how can you be hungry 1 Do you think I don't know when I am hun- gry, and when other people ought to be hungry ? You're not hungry — you can't be hungry. It's impossible. You pre- tend to be hungry, out of spite — just because I'm not — that's the way with everybody." And so Tantrum falls out with Greedy, on the question of appetite and the proper period of feeling a disposition to dine, in which Greedy, like the rest of his class, proves to be unconquerably obstinate. Greedy persists in going to dinner 10 146 NEAl's SKETCHEg. at an improper hour; and Timothy Tantrum is overwhelmed with despair at the ignorant contumacy of the Greedies, who have been the same ever since the days of Sir Giles Overreach. ** I'm going to be married, Mr. Tantrum, and desire your presence as groomsman." " Going to be what ?" exclaims Tantrum, in such tones of scornful amazement as could scarcely fail to carry dismay to the boldest heart, when placed in the trying position now re- ferred to — " Going — to — be — w-h-a-t?" " Married," is the trembling response. ** Jinkins, I should be sorry to be forced, Jinkins, to class you, too, among the fools ; Jinkins — I should. Going to be married, to be sure! Well ! — I never! Jinkins, did you ever know me to marry anybody 1 Jinkins, am I married, Jinkins, or am I going to be ] No, Jinkins, you may swear to that! — and why should you? Don't, Jinkins — if you value my friendship or my countenance." But Jinkins insists on being married, in broad contradic- tion to all "hat the Tantrums can say, resting his plea of pal- liation aiid mitigation on the fact mainly that he is "in love" an argument which Timothy Tantrum — like a genuine bach- elor, that pernicious species, who are thus by design, perhaps, more than by accident, and who have been found audacious enough to rejoice in their iniquity — treats with even less of mercy than he does other differences of sentiment. " If you are in love, why the shortest way is to get out of it — I always do — and are you coming for to go for to set up as wiser than I am ? — as if I don't know. And who do you propose to marry, I should like to learn? Susan Scissors I Good gracious — what a choice ! I wouldn't have Susan Scissois — am I in love with Susan Scissors? Did you ever know me to marry Susan Scissors 1 Why should you ? I really can't understand it. To marry, is bad enough of itself! But Susan Scissors — whew!" And hereupon arose another contention and another divia- THE TRIALS OF TIMOTHY TANTRUM. 147 ion, because Timothy Tantrum was hostile to matrimony m general, and to Susan Scissors in particular — forgetting, in the first place, that everybody, except the Tantrums, will marry, it being a way they have; and that, in the second place, it will not do for all the world — the masculine world — to affect and to fancy the same individual — Susan Scissors, or another — it might lead to trouble. * * * * *' That's not the way to bring up a child," says Tantrum ; " I wouldn't educate him so. Did you ever know me to fetch up a child that way, a spilin' of him, as you do V " T never saw you bring up children at all, unless knock- ing 'em down, when they come crying in your way, is what you call bringing 'em up." "What I mean is — do you think that's the way I'd bring 'em up, if I was to bring 'em up ] I'm not such a goose. Did you ever see me" — And then Tantrum would enlai-ge upon his theory of train- inn- and instruction, until he found that parents and guardians were quite as rigid in the wrong, and quite as fond of their own erroneous conclusions as all the rest of society. In this reo^ard, there was no solace for Tantrum but in one fond ex- pectation. " Those children will all go to the mischief, that's one great and glorious consolation — the girls will run off with some big- whiskered, mustached, long-legged, and long-nosed swindler, who'll beat 'em well, and send 'em home at last, with large families of little people — that's one of the consequences of not minding me. And as for the boys, those that don't dis- appear some day, nobody knows where, may be looked for in the penitentiary, never coming to no sort of good ; and then I can drop in sociably to inquire about them at homo, and the way I'll ask the folks if they 'marked my.woids' when I said how it would end, will be what they won't for- get in a hurry — I can promise them that beforehand I and Tantrr.m for once chuckled with glee. * * * * In ihe affairs of medical science, also, Timothy Tantrum ]48 neal's sketches. was equally learned, but as equally unfortunate. But, as nobody would pursue his system of practice, he still consoled himself with giving the recusants a bit of his mind, which is not often the most agreeable present that can be bestowed — and, in the second place, should the results prove fatal, as results sometimes will, why didn't Timothy Tantrum say how it would be 1 But no man is altoo^ether without refuo^es and resources — we all have something to fall back upon ; and Timothy Tan- trum, in the midst of the contumelies of an unappreciating world, where none will do as he thinks every one should do, derives solace and refreshment for his spirit by going a fish- ing, alone by himself, with a patent-rod and a red cork. When he succeeds in setting the household by the ears, and has got the whole neighborhood comfortably in an uproar, he then — quietly — like Sylla abdicating — travels off to fish. Fishes have this advantage as companions — they bite, and say not a word ; or, if they do not bite, they never make jeering remark, or indulge in provoking argument ; so that one may be as philosophical and as splenetic as he likes when he is fishing, without risk of being ** aggravated." But even here, drawbacks to the perfect felicity will intrude them- selves. We want to catch a fish, it may be; and that fish, however sensible in the main, has not arrived at a perfect conclusion in himself whether he is hungry or not, coquetting with the bait, yet refusing it — ungrateful fish, after so much trouble has been encountered for his especial entertainment. There is a crookedness, too, in hooks, that attaches itself to weeds and roots, if not to garments, and to the fleshy integ- uments beneath. But worse than all is it when we — the Tantrums — are established in just the sort of nook we liave been looking for all day, to be pounced upon in our soliloquies by some ragged and vociferous urchin, with a ponderous dog of the amphibious breed, who will have it that Carlo shall " go in and fetch it out," right upon our piscatorial premises, THE TRIALS OP TIMOTHY TANTRUM. 1 10 to our discomfiture and to that of the finny tribes — Carlo, who surges like a diving elephant, and who comes out to shake himself at our elbow, like the spray of cataracts. And Nico- demus swims horses, too, at the same appalling instant. Who can be surprised that Timothy Tantrum, in an effort to better his condition, broke his patent angling-rod in an ineffectual blow at the aforesaid ragged and vociferous urchin, or that he fell into the creek by an injudicious striving to administer a kick to the ponderousness of Carlo 1 Both of these move- ments were natural enough ; and the consequent disasters, what were they but a link in the chain of annoyance con- nected with the life and misfortunes of the Tantrum family 1 "Just exactly what was to be expected," growled Tantrum, as he wandered home, moist and disconsolate ; ** it's always so when I undertake to teach manners to boys and genteel behavior to the dogs. My best intentions are thrown away, on everybody. I've broke my rod, and the boy's not a bit the wiser; I've tumbled in the creek, and the dog's as impo- lite as ever. And now, I've a great mind to let everybody and everything take its own course, without bothering myself any more. I don't see that I've got anything yet for my pains, though I've fretted all my hair off, and scolded my teeth out. It's easier, I guess, and more profitable, to make the best of things as they are, now I find that they wont be any other way ; and I would, if it wasn't that I know I know better about things than other people — what's the use of knowing you know better, if you don't make other people know you know so? Whatever is, is wrong — all but me — I'm clear as day- light as to that; but I wont cry about it any longer. Perhaps when Timothy Tantrum's dead and gone, they'll begin to dis- cover there was somebody here when he was alive. But they won't before, for they haven't yet — they're too obstinate — and while I'm waiting to be understood and appreciated, I'm half inclined to begin to take the world easy, and enjoy my- self, like the foolish people, who don't know any better.'' 24 ir*o — ' NEAL S SKETCHES. THE LIONS OF SOCIETY POTTS, PETERS, AND BOBUS. " Another lion gave a grievous roar ; And the first lion thought the last ' a bore.' " BOMBASTES FURIOSO. Lions ! — yes — every collection, zoological or otherwise, Jnust have its lions. Without them, it is incomplete — defi- cient it what may be termed its rallying point or nucleus. What, for instance, would be the menagerie — and it is, more or less, all menagerie, "here upon this ground" — without a smart sprinkling of lions ] We admit that the elephant is a respectable, solid individual, in his way — prosy, however, and not at all of a sparkling nature. And your monkey, provided he be not sick — there is nothing sadder than your sick monkey — monkeys ought to be exempt from sickness — he may be droll, as he catches the apple or cracks a nut — doleful drollery chough, as that drollery must ever be in which we discover how narrowly the most of us escaped from being monkeys. But still, these things — monkey, elephant, and all — can not satisfy the reachings of the soul ; and we turn from them in weariness to ask, "where is the lion ? — let me hear a lion roar!" We are imposed upon, if we can not find a lion. And so it is in the circles of society. Each must be pro- vided with its lion. Nay, it is indispensable that there should be several lions, of different forces and dimensions, to vary the scene, or to be produced in the absence of each other. But not two of a similar kind, at the same moment. Such lions never agree, on account of that dislocation of noses, to THE LIONS OP SOCIETY. 151 which, by such collision, they become subject ; and if you have ever noticed the fact — perhaps you have felt it, as all of us play the lion's part, more or less, at intervals — but if, either way, you may chance to have observed it, this truth is familiar, that there is nothing more dangerous than a lion w^ith his "nose out of joint." — The moody ferociousness exhibited under such circumstances, is a matter which, ac- cording to the popular phrase, is not to be sneezed at, even by one who happens to be worse off than the aggrieved lion himself, in the d' licate particular of noses. A lion's nose is his thermometer of health and barometer of temper. — Put that out of place — ay, but sprain a lion's nose, however slightly, and the attempt to play with him is a fearful risk. He is sure to snap your nose off. To know a lion — what may be described as a good sizeable lion — such a one as plays the lion, wherever he goes — among the " upper ten thousand," or amid the substratum of ** the masses" — one of your dauntless lions, who con- fidently sports his mane and his claws in all possible situa- tions, and has that pervading sense of his own immensity, that he is the lion — equally — at your house, or at home — in the kitchen — for even the kitchen has its lions — or in the presence of all imaginable quantities of wisdom, wit, beauty, rank and fashion — there being "comparative lions," who lionize according to the chance — but we allude to the "positive lion," who is invariably himself — if you would know him, then, the discovery may be made in various ways. "When you feel patronized, as it were, in society, and can not tell exactly why, as you do not seek for patronage particular- ly, at that moment, a shrewd suspicion may be indulged that you are in the presence of a lion. A lion, too, condescends — his whole deportment announces the fact to the bystanders that " now the lion condescends," for the encouragement of people — little people — such as have nothing of the leonine growth about them. The lion pats, that you may not be too much overcome by his austere dignity — he will not eat you 152 neal's sketches. up — though he could do it, and he wishes yoa to see that he knows he could do it — he is not hungiy now, the amia- ble lion. But the undoubtable sign that Leo approximates — if it be not felt mesmerically — is in the eclipse that falls around. No one now says, ** how dee do-o," to you — give it up at once, loquacious friend — nobody listens to your nan'atiwe — your pun provokes no smile — your jest can draw no laughter. But a few moments since, perhaps, and you were in feather — a larger estimate than usual of the entertaining qualities which you had derived from nature, began to warm your heart and stimulate your brain — a thought, perchance, that if not a whiskered lion of the tribe — adult, mature, consummate — you were at least a promising cub of the same species. But now, how shrunk — what an insignificancy of contraction! — The matter? — Can't you see? — Why, man, the lion's come — the lion past dispute — the real, uncontested thing. There is a dislocation, for the time, of your beloved nasal promontory. Go — for now you are "no go" — the game is up. Our meaning here is aptly illustrated by the accompanying engraving, and which might properly be termed, " A Discomjiture of the Lesser Lions ; or, the Extinction of the Rtishlights.^' There was a gathering at Brown's — of beauty and of chivalry, as any one may see. Potts was there, and Peters — social lions of the smaller gi'owth. Potts did the sublime and beautiful — Potts is literary — and Peters was strong upon the queer and quaint — Peters is a wag. Never was there a more delightful party. Potts talked romance and reason, politics, poetry, and polemics — soaring upward — wondrous Potts ! — like an eagle from its eyry ; and Peters followed, quizzical, playing upon words in the centre of ** Giggledom." Potts secured the solid sense of the meeting — the matrons circled round him — bald heads and spectacles were there, to feed on wisdom. ** A great man is Potts," said they; "sensible to the last;" and Potts grew wiser as he glanced reprovingly back to "Giggledom" — listen THE LIONS OF SOCIETY. 153 young ladies, and be improved — where Peters flashed and coruscated like the uncorking of champagne. A funny man was Peters then, and " Giggledom" rejoiced. The more philosophical Potts became, the wittier was Peters, as if these antagonist forces acted and re-acted on each other to the production of a power which neither had exhibited be- f )re. Potts, indeed, thought that if it were possible for man to be more rational, acute, and sagacious, than he now proved himself, it would scarce be possible for such a man to live, and that when he died, as die he must, the world would cut him up into schools, colleges, and other seats of learning and profundity — he felt convinced, moreover, that it would, when he was out, be advisable always to have reporters near, that he might be published — a serial — in continuous num- ber, at a fip a week, as a living ** Library of Useful Knowl- edge." Potts could not admire himself enough, as by far the ablest individual that he ever knew — while Peters was assured, that if he (Peters) should get any funnier as the night wore on — he did not believe it possible — there never was anything funnier — but if he (Peters) should grow fun- nier — and it would not be practicable for him (Peters) to help it — why then it would be impossible for other folks to live. He (Peters) would be the death of them. Somebody ought to hold him (Peters) — in mercy, hold him. Both Potts and Peters were impressed with a full belief, that clever — English clever — as they always were, still on this memorable evening, they were — Potts to Potts and Peters to Peters — immeasurably superior to themselves. Potts, in short, was not sure whether it was himself or not; and Peters escaped the doubt only from knowing that he could not easily be any one else, or rather, that it was out of the question for any one else to be him. How pleasant it is to be satisfied that no other person can be you — that you are unique. But suddenly — a catastrophical suddenly — in walked Bobbs — ** B. Bobus Bubbs, Esq." — " Goodness, gracious, 154 neal's sketches. if here isn't Bobbs ! — my ! — I thought Bobbs would never come! Oh! how glad — Bobbs! — such a pleasure — Bobbs ! — quite delighted — Bobbs !" ** As I was saying," continued Potts, beginning to quail, *' as I was about to say, to show the rationale of the matter Mrs. Brown — " "Never mind now, Mr. Potts," rejoined Mrs. Brown, ** there's Bobbs at last ;" and Mrs. Brown darted away, leaving Potts in soliloquy. ** But the best of the joke was, ladies," whimpered Peters, under a foreknowledge of his fate, "the best of the joke — " "Bobbs!" ejaculated the young ladies, wild with delight, and Peters was alone. " Potts ! — Bobbs !" said Peters. " Peters ! — Bobbs !" replied Potts. And on reference again to the picture, their relative ex- pressions may be seen, Potts endeavoring to muster courage to stand his ground — Peters getting indignantly out of the way. Bobbs is the largest lion of the town, and they know it. Bobbs, who is as philosophical and as funny as both Potts and Peters combined, is evidently provoked at their presumption in his absence ; and Potts and Peters, after vainly endeavoring to resist the current of opinion by sly in- sinuations against the merits of Bobbs, at last betake them- selves, silently and sullenly, to chicken salad in a corner. Always retreat on chicken salad. Lions are diverse and different. There is your musical lion, who is sometimes a bore — your scientific lion, who is apt to be an ass — your political lion, who is frequently a nuisance, and your funny lion, who, on occasion, is dull enough. The handsome lion is not often endurable ; but the dandy lion is at least harmless if he pays his tailor's bill. And following these, we find literary lions, gymnastic lions, lions in buggies and on horseback — fast-trotting lions, are they — military lions — in fact, every jungle has its lion, big lAE LIONS OP SOCIETY. 165 or little — not one of which, except as aforesaid, in the way of condescension, will permit others to slip in a word edge- wise. Those who are not lions themselves, are born for no other purpose but to admire the lions. Gentle reader, if you are not a lion already, try to be a lion, with all your might and " mane.*' 156 ' NEAL S SKETCHES. DAVID DUMPS, THE DOLEFUL ONE. The majority of people are in the Dumps only at times — the most stormy of lives has its gleams of sunshine, and perhaps there are few among men whose existence is a night BO dark that no star of hope appears. Even melancholy itself has its reactions, as the criminal on the rack is said to sleep in the intervals of torture, and thus to gain strength for added suffering. One can not be always weeping, and there must be a pause in sorrow. The Dumps then, as a general thing, do not prevail in every bosom without the grace of intermis- sions of relief ; and, for the most part, there is quite as much of smiles and laughter in this world, as there is of doleful groaning. You, for instance, are in tears to-day, while your neighbor jests right merrily, the loud outbreak of his mirth jaiTing on your lacerated nerves, as you wonder how it is that men can thus be ** pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw," while you suffer like Guatemozin on his bed of coals, But be then of good heart, friend — let not the soul within thee break down as without hope. It may be but a little time — a week, perchance — a month then — or what if it bo a year — before you shall be as gamesome as a kid, while the dark shadow of tribulation rests upon your neighbor's head. All evils cure themselves in one way or another. A grief can not be eternal, or if the evil must endure, why, we grow callous at the last, and cease to feel its pressure. That is, the most of us are in this way affected, having the Dumps only upon occasion, to give effect by the force of contrast, aa it were, to the more pleasant passages of our career on earth. DAVID DUMPS. 157 All sights and sounds can not for ever remain as disagreea ble to you as they now appear — the light of the blessed sun shall not always be more oppressive than the darkness, which it chases away ; and depend upon it, unlikely as the realiza- tion of the promise now seems, we all may smile again. All smile again — yes, all but David — he never has smiled yet — how can he smile again ? David has no lot or part in such business. His life is a matter far too serious for trifling divertisement of that sort; and we doubt whether cranks or pulleys, or any of the complex arrangement of rope, block, and tackle, could be made to elevate the corners of his down- cast mouth even to the level of a simper. Archimedes him- self, with all the resources of mechanical invention, must fail in the effort to extend the corners aforesaid from ear to ear, according to the practice of most people when tickled by a conceit ; and were his countenance thus forcibly opened by crowbar or by cable, what good could it possibly do when David's vocal apparatus is altogether incompetent to the formation of those sounds which are indicative that fun holds revel in the halls of the brain 1 Nay, David would thus look sadder far than ever he did before — for what is more sad — more chillingly melancholy, than the mere forms and sem- blances of smile and mirth when the soul denies illumination 1 It is the ghastly grinning of a skeleton — the cadaverous ex- pression of a corpse — we pray you to let that mc^uth — the mouth of David — let it alone as it falls. We doubt whether any change that you could make, would be at all for the bet- ter. Gloomy as the natural David may appear, there are no artificial arrangements that can be contrived to improve him. Rouge to his cheek or roses in his hair, would that afford to David a more cheerful aspect 1 — Do not think it. The truth of the matter is, that while you or I, in the way of recreation are temporarily miserable and occasionally dis- tressed, the miserables and the distresses are David's natu- ral, habitual, and original condition. For his name is Dumps — David Dumps, at your sei*vice — not Dumps now or Dumpa 158 neal's sketches. then ; but invariably Dumps, suing and sued in that delight- ful name. When constables apprehend him, they soon com- prehend that they have the Dumps. Having commenced crying at his first appearance on the stage of life, as nearly everybody does — ** our pilgrimage begins in tears" — Dumps has gone directly onward in the same strain of dolor as at first — weeping, and wailing, and gnashing his teeth, as he passes by. He cries aloud at all times and seasons, so that he is " like loftiest peaks," surrounded by fogs and mists im- penetrable to the sun of gladness. His summit is a glacier where nothing grows, and the brightest beams of noon only thaw tears away, which do not improve the general aspect. Dumps — David — has it in his power — for he continu ally exercises himself in the art — to sorrow over all things ; but what especially provokes him, and he falls back upon it as a species of reserve in the battle of life, when no partic- ular distress sets in to goad his sides, is the general unhap- piness of human condition, as compared to the "jolly times," to use his own phraseology, which the inferior animals have of it. "Dave — you, Dave — it's time to get up and kindle the fire ! Get up, this minute, and don't make me come there after you." Now such a call as this, of a bitter cold morning — in a room uncarpeted, with the outward atmosphere whistling in through chinks and crannies, and penetrating broken panes, ill stopped by antiquated hats and rejected trowsers, can not be regarded as a musical call, even if uttered by the sweet- est of voices — for David Dumps was coiled up warmly, for- getting his sorrows in the depths of slumber, and bidding them defiance in a snore as haughty and fearless as the sonorous brass of bold dragoonery. "You, Dave!" ** Augh-waugh," responded Dave. Words, you know, are idle in an emergency — who wastes words in a crisis such as this ? The next thing David knew DAVID DUMPS. 159 was the unwelcome visitation of a sufficient quantity of the coldest water to his sublime but sleeping countenance ; and, as the usual result in all aquatic and amphibious experiments of this sort, David sat bolt upright and wide awake at once. " Now, make the fire, or you shall have some more water." There are two ways of impressing the memory. A con- genial association of ideas will do it ; and so will the most diverse and opposite commingling of thoughts. There is a sharp, pungent irony in dashing one's face with cold water to make one get up to kindle the fire, which prevents the hint from being wasted. In such a case, it is not easy to forget, though even the meekest spirit lodged in the thickest skin, is apt to feel vengeful and resentful, on such occasions ; and if you are the person who distributed the water, take timely care that the ways of swift retreat are clearly open behind you — for we have known disaster to be the result of oversights in this respect. To be drifted from slumber by water conveyance, never yet soothed anybody's temper — the mildest are apt to swear — the most peaceful will become belligerent. 'Tis best to evaporate at the instant of the sprinkle, before eyes are opened wide enough to take an aim with boot, or shoe, or clothes-brush. No fear that the sleeping will be resumed. David did arise, like a mermaid or a river-god, but in no gentle frame of mind. As he always got up crossly, and with emotions somewhat savage at being obliged again to mingle with life's harsh realities, he was as near frantic now as may be. To make the fire was an imperative necessity, and it was made with that commingling of "fire and fury," which furnishes evidence of the sulkiness and aggravation that reign within. The pussy that purred in the corner — the dog that stretched upon the hearth, both received abrupt evidences that David Dumps was in a state of extreme dis- pleasure. But it so happened that, as he struck them, an idea struck him, as if the collision had elicited a spark which fired up 160 neal's sketches. the magazine of his brain. But, account for it as you may, there can be no doubt of the fact, that Dumps did catch an idea at the aforesaid moment. Not an idea of the ordinary description, such as are continually tumbling through men's minds, leaving no impression of any value behind them — - ideas that would not bring sixpence for a hundred in the in- tellectual market, and which are by no means a fruitage wor- thy of any species of presei*vation; but an idea of that grand and comprehensive force of generalization, which set David Dumps up in business as a philosopher for the rest of his life, rendering him as nearly good for nothing, as his most ardent admirer could desire. It was a leading idea, to which David Dumps could bend all things, and from which he could, at any moment, deduce the most bitter of dissatisfac- tions. David stood with his mouth open to its full extent that the idea aforesaid, as it knocked againt his cranium for admission, might be swallowed whole, which, possibly, is the reason why so many people open their mouths extensively at strange sights and unaccustomed words, the eye and the ear not being sufficient to receive the impression. Always, therefore, do the like when you wish to understand anything completely, and wear your mouth ajar at all times and sea- sons ; for who knows what you may catch, if the trap be always set and ready to spring upon anything that passes. But when David Dumps felt that he had secured the new idea, he shut his mouth with a snap, to make all safe, that his new idea might not fly out again as rapidly as it had gone in. Besides, he had gained wisdom enough for one day — as much, indeed, in his private opinion, as others collect in the whole course of their mortal lives ; and he felt also that, per- chance, he might injure himself and bring on mental dispep- sia, if there should be any sudden addition to the dose of wisdom which he had just taken. We must allow due time for the new idea to become assimilated to the old stock of intelligence, before we increase the supply, or the whole establishment may be thrown into inexplicable confusion. DAVID DUMPS. 161 " Some people," remarked David^ after a long pause, in the course of which his nose hitched itself into wrinkles of supreme contempt, " some people never know nothing more than they know'd at first ^ — they only know what they are told, and couldn't find a thought for themselves if it was a laying right before them squeaking to be taken up. There's not many that ever ketch an idea on their own hook ; and they couldn't, if ideas were as thick as huckleberries on a bush. It takes such folks as me, who have heads for use and not for show, to discover the wisdom that's to be found in things. And so, while other people are laughing and re- joicing in their foolishness, because they can't see straight, you may hear me groaning at least a mile off, because I can see right through everything. ** Now as to them dogs and them cats. It appears to me, though I can't say I ever heard 'em at it — but it appears to me that they must be laughing at us all the time — for thoy are always idling or sleeping or feeding at our cost and expense, while we are at work from the time we get up till we go to bed again. What do they do, I'd like to know, but canceuvre round to enjoy themselves, while we have to get up and make fires, and cook wittals as much for them as for ourselves? — Oh, yes — warn and stretch, doggie — look at me lazy with your eyes half shut, for its me that's at work, not you. And now the fire burns a little, down you go in the warmest corner, as if you were one of the upper ten-thou- sanders, and had your boots cleaned every day by a colored pusGun. You don't have to pay taxes, nutther, nor milishy fines — we have to go to market for you and let you in when you scratch at the door. And so, get out, warmint !" and ])avid lent the dog another kick — kicks being always lent, as the greatest favor, while blows, being cheaper, are freely given — lent the dog another kick, which put to flight at once not only the quadruped itself, but likewise all that quadruped's serenity of mind, while the cat, as another of the aristocratic? 11 162 neal's sketches. circles, met with very nearly a similar fate, both retiring with doleful lamentations. " That's some comfort anyhow — if I can't make you work, I can make you sing out, which is very nigh as good ;" and so with some slight emotion of pleasure, down sat David Dumps, to warm himself and meditate still further upon the idea which he had partially broached as above, that in the main, the beasts, and the birds, including the fishes, are much better off in this world than David Dumps or any of his kind. And it is a favorite topic of discourse with him even now, when grown unto man's estate of length of limb and anxiety of mind — " Lord of himself, that heritage of wo" — his thoughts are full of the injustices of natural history; and if it were not that through man's peculiar cunning, some part of the animal creation has nearly as hard a time of it as Dumps himself, it is a doubt whether Dumps would consent to remain in the world at all, if he could find any particularly easy and pleasant way of getting himself out of it. A cigar-shop is the natural resort of the meditative and inquiring. Smoke and speculation combine in perfect beauty, while the argument and the tobacco consume themselves together, leaving little but ashes behind. Men of the think- ing sort, are fond of congregating of evenings at the cigar- shop, where and at which time, politics, war news, anecdote, and metaphysics, are particularly rife. Yes, if you would note the current feature of the time, go to the barber's in the morning, and stop for your cigars at night. The cigar is the smoke pipe of the great social locomo- tive, and puffs it along, giving force to thought and fluency to expression. No great plan is laid — no grand project conceived, without the agency of cigars — at all " preparatory meetings," where two or three concoct public opinion for DAVID DUMPS. 163 the masses, the cigar opens the debate and sharpens the wit for discussion. Smoke, smoke is the mighty propulsive force of our country ; and things will never go quite properly until the judge lights his regalia on the bench, and the juror sports his favorite brand in the box. Then, and not till then, will justice go like smoke. Is talking your forte 1 — go to the cigar-shop, that you may be sure of an audience. Would you rather listen to the experiences of others, get thee to the cigar-shop, for budding oratory there holds forth, with chequers, perchance, or dominoes, in the little back-room. David Dumps is, of course, a smoker — a man of sorrow is almost always a man of addiction to the weed, for what of comfort can he else- where find 1 And so in full divan, seated beneath the wooden High- lander, who is always taking snuff, there — even there at Quiggs's cigarrery, David Dumps had broached it as a truth not to be controverted, that with the exception of his igno- rance of the various uses of the divine weed, it were better to be a dog than such a Roman. '* That's my candied opinion, any how," said Dumps, dog- gedly, almost barking as he spoke. ** Nothin's never right with Dumps," observed a fat gentleman with a rosy physiognomy, who looked as if everything agreed with him, just as he agreed with every- thing. " Dumps, Dumps, Dumps," remarked another individual, with a considerable quantity of whisker, round which the smoke curled as if they were burning brush on the premises ; " Dumps, what possible use can there be in your groaning all the time over what can not be helped? — It's very clear to me. Dumps, that you were not born to set the world to rights, and to fix everything over again just to suit yourseif. It wouldn't be fair, Dumps, you see, even if it could be done, because may be, I shouldn't like it then any more than you like it now ; and so, every man would be obligated to have a 164 neal's sketches. little world all to himself; and hire a star to live in, the same way that people hire houses, paying rent by the quarter. See here. Dumps — if you happen to know any man that's rich enough to keep a grindstone, you had better go and have yourself made a little smoother about the edges. You're BO rough now, that you hurt yourself and everybody else. If the world don't suit you, there's nothing for it but to make yourself suit the world. That's the way I do." " Yes, yes. Dumps — try to be a man," remarked another — "be a reasonable critter, that puts up quietly with what he can't help — for Dumps, you'll find that you must put up with it whether or no, and growling is just so much of labor wasted. Wise folks never complain — they go right off and get a cigar orafip's worth of cavendish, to sooth the feelin's. Be a man, Dumps — a reasonable critter." ** A man, indeed," retorted Dumps, morosely rejoiced at the opportunity thus afforded to ring in his favorite idea — " a pretty thing to be proud of —being a man. Why, what's a man, I'd like to know, to have to work and to scramble all the time for a miserable living, and then not to be able to get more than half a one, if you get thati — For my part, I'd be anything rather than a man. Nobody has good times in this world but the unreasonable critters, and they make their living easy. — Tell me, now, who asks a bird to pay up for what he wants 1 — He has no bill to trouble him but his own bill — that's his due-bill. The cats, and the dogs, and the cattle — they play all the time if they want to — sleep and play. If it wasn't that the city-dogs has hard times of it in summer, when they're out and forget their muzzles, I'd get right down on all fours and bark — I'd join the bow-wow chorus, as the only free and independent set that's going." " But the horses, Dumps, and the mules, and the oxen — they are not much better off than you are." ** Very true ; and there's some little comfort in that, as there is in a peep at the menagerie where they stir up the DAVID DUMPS. 165 animals and make them roar and growl for a living, like the tragedians at the theatre, though the animals don't get so much for the job. But that has nothing to do with the gen- eral principle, that in this world the reasonable critter has decidedly the worst of it in every possible p'int of view. Oh, what a blessed thing it would be, if we lived by suction, and had feathers — that's the grand idea I'm driving at — nateral clothing — spontaniferous jackets, and free gratis trowsaloons, with nothing to do but open our mouths when we want our dinner. Do chickens learn a trade, and are cockrobins bound 'prentice ? Are calves sent to school, or did you ever see a brindled cow trying to get a discount from the bank 1 Do rabbits go about to borrow money in great haste when it's near three o'clock, or must poodle-dogs shy round the corner when they see creditors coming 1 — No ; it's left for me and for you to be full all the time of botheration and vexation, to keep life in our precious bodies. We doJi't lie down in the grass, to nibble a bit of clover between sleeps — you never saw me flutter up an apple-tree, to roost, with my head poked under my wing, or sitting with the pigeons atop of a chimbly, with no care on my mind only as to where 1 should fly to next, for the sake of fun. A man must not coil himself up on a cellar-door when the sun shines, or he'll be tuck up right away, as a fellow with no visible signs of living, when if rights was rights, all he should want as a visible sign of living would be a pretty good-sized mouth of his own, with a tolerable supply of teeth in it. Natur* ought to finish all we want to bite; and what we should have to do would be to have ourselves provided with something to bite with ; and I'm pretty well off* as to that. Give me the eatables, and I'll be bound to find whatever else is needed to make out my dinner. But, no — not at all — that's not the way the world is carried on under the present system of operations. Natur' doesn't care how great your appetite is. She never minds if you're as hungry as a hawk. Sposin* you were to do as the animals and the birds do — take what 25 166 neal's sketches. you want and gobble it right up, why then they open a big book and say it's larceny — and so off you're sent to Miamen- iin for a year or two, to learn better manners. Now did you ever see a burglarious sheep in the Black Maria, or a thieving chicken going along with a constable holding by the cuff of its neck 1 I guess not — all these little comforts are kept for the reasonable critters — nobody else has the enjoy- ment but only men, and much good it does them. Be a man, indeed ! — that's the worst of it. I am a man already, and am willing to swop places with almost anything that isn't a maq. I'd rather be a sunfish dodging about in the canal, to get clear of the boys with their pin-hooks, than to be the president of the United States, who always has trouble about him quite as big as his salary." Having thus unburthened his mind of the great idea that it did groan withal, David Dumps set forth with the largest of all possible cigars in his mouth, being firmly of the im- pression that one's cigar should be proportioned to one's sor- row. A little cigar is an amusement, while it requires a big one to be a consolation. Where David passed the interve- ning time, we do not know, but at a late hour in the night, he was seen performing many curious antics in illustration of the idea. " I should like to be a calf," said he, and he bleated. " Oh, if I'd only been born a sheep," added he, and he baa'd. And thus the neighborhood was rendered vocal by all the sounds of the agricultural interests. We are not sure indeed but that he jumped upon a high step and crowed, and tones like that of a turkey-gobbler resounded along the street. There was no end to the eccentricities of David Dumps on that memora- ble night; but being unable to reach home, from divers an- tagonistic causes, he fell asleep in a corner, muttering that he wished he could have feathers to save the tailor's bill, could roost on a cherry-tree, to avoid the expenses of lodg- ing, and derive nourishment by an inhalation of the air, to escape the cost of beef-steaks. DAVID DUMP0. le** " I want to be independent," sighed he, " and I'll sleep nere by way of a beginning." Poor Dumps — his indifference caught him such a dread- ful cold, that he is disposed for the future to eschew all ex- periment upon new methods of living, and if he can not do exactly as the turkeys do, he will try to behave a little more Uke other people, it being cheapest in the end. ICiS neal's sketches. FLYNTEY HARTE: OR, THE HARDENING PROCESS. "I'll knock your head off!" accompanied by an effort, partially at least, to carry the threat into execution, formed the earliest outpouring of maternal tenderness that little Flyntey Harte could bring to mind ; and it made an impres- Bion, both mental and physical, which time has been unable to efface. " I'll knock your head off!" exclaimed Mrs. Flyntey Harte — a good-enough woman in her way, everybody said, but, as the good-enough family often are, quite unused to self- restraint, innocent altogether of the theory and practice of self-government, and wofully addicted, when provoked or vexed, to extravagances of speech and redundancies of action. Such was particularly the case in the present instance. The young Flyntey being affected with a crossness and a perver- sity at a moment when the good lady aforesaid had no temper for the endurance — these stages of condition always happen out of time — the young Flyntey was, of course, forthwith accommodated with a sonorous box o' the ear, intended mainly to sooth his perturbed spiiit, while it likewise served all the purposes of an orrery to his as yet unenlightened un- derstanding. Flyntey saw quite as many stars, in galaxy or in constellation, as ever became apparent to the astronomer ; but unfortunately for Mrs. Flyntey Harte, the remedial means resorted to, rather tended to aggravate than to counteract the disorder; and little Flyntey, who had given offence in the first place by the expression of his uneasiness, having now PLYNTEY HARTE. 169 an increase to his uneasiness, set himself to work at an in- creased expression and with renewed offence. Consequently, there was quite a "bawl" at Mrs. Fl^yntey Harte's, with more of music in it than was agreeable or diverting, in- ducing several other demonstrations, knockingly, at little Flyntey's head, to allay the storm which had been caused by knocks. "Won't you hush?" — and as Flyntey gave no token of icquiescence, but, on the contrary, expanded his mouth still wider, he was ** taken and shaken," to the variation, though (•jerhaps not to the improvement of his vocal strain. The resources of genius, as regards the administration of aursery affairs, appeared at last to be exhausted. Mrs. Flyntey Harte sat down to rock herself, in all the energy of despair; and little Flyntey Harte roared away as lustily as ever, over the sfriefs, known and unknown, which disturbed his mental tranquillity. But a new idea suddenly flashed into the ma- ternal mind, like one of those strategic inspirations which often gain the day when the battle is seemingly lost. " IMl give you something to cry for!" screamed the lady, again taking up the controversy, on the assumption that like cures like ; and it must be confessed that she was fully equal to her word. Little Flyntey was immediately furnished with something to cry for, in addition to that which he had received already, and being thus furnished, under a belief that by this species of urging he would the sooner be induced to cry him- self out, he took ample occasion to demonstrate the sound- ness and endurance of the lungs with which he was gifted, and perversely afforded no prospect whatever of being cried out in any reasonable space of time. *' That boy will be the death of me !" thundered paternity, in the shape of Mr. Flyntey Harte, who had come ravening homeward for his dinner, and whose acerbities were, there- fore, in a high state of activity. ** My dear, why don't you hush him up at once V* added he, giving force to the idea by a "dumb motion," pantomimic of the spank. 170 neal's sketches. ** He can't be hushed up, as you call it," replied Mrs. Flyntey Harte. " Tm sure it's not my fault — no mother pays more attention to her children than I do — I've been slapping him, and shaking him, off and on, for the whole blessed morning" — and she immediately offered a few sam- ples of both methods of operation — "but, in spite of all I can do, he is bad as bad can be yet. I can't think, for my part, what the brat would have." " Pshaw !" retorted old Mr. Flyntey Harte: "you women never know how to manao^e a child — let me at him a minute!" and Flyntey went at him with a zeal probably deserving of better success ; but little Flyntey Harte continued, notwith- standing all the parental care lavished upon him, to roar and to whine alternately until he fell fast asleep through weari- ness and exhaustion. Thus ended one day in the life of little Flyntey Harte, this one day exposing with clearness the principle on which his domestic education was conducted, and perhaps, likewise, affording a glimpse of the results to which it led. His pa- rents had no other method of training intellect, and of form- ing character, than that which may be described as the sys- tem of terrorism ; and, with the best intentions in the world, to " terrorism" they resorted, upon all occasions of difficulty. It seemed to simplify the problem so, and to condense, as it were, all the perplexing theories of youthful cultivation into a plain and practical doctrine, capable of being applied on the instant, and under any circumstances whatever. There was a saving, too, of time, and care, and thought, in coming to the comfortable conclusion that the wisest way of bringing little Flyntey up, was to knock little Flyntey down. It lev- elled the difficulty at once, besides being so wholesome and pleasant to the instructor, who, in this view of the subject, is under no obligation to suppress wrath, or to restrain the emotions of impatience. On the contrary, it seems to be a permission to slap away, right and left, killing two birds with one stone, by at once gratifying your own pugnacity, and PLYNTEY HARTE. 171 giving your pupil an impulse forward in the walks of use- ful knowledge. But it must be confessed, however, unfortu- nately both for the theory here alluded to and for little Flyntey Harte himself, that, while no boy ever had more " pains" be- stowed upon him in the processes of education, it is also true that no boy ever yielded more "pains" in return — as if it were on a principle of poetical justice that caused the sowing and the reaping to be somewhat similar in kind. Flyntey was "corrected" every day of his existence — sometimes twice, if not thrice a day; and yet popular report set him down proverbially as the worst lad in the neighborhood. Was it not strange that such should be the discouraging re- sult of so much toil of arm and expenditure of strap, and that the only advantage derived by either of the parties should be merely deducible from the exercise] Not an hour passed that it was not announced to little Flyntey, formally or informally, that his wickedness was be- yond all other wickedness ; and little Flyntey took it as matter of course, that he was wicked, that he must be wicked and wicked he therefore was, to all intents and purposes ; no good being expected from him, which, we take it, in a stout constitution, either for evil or its opposite, is as sure a way as any, of making it certain that no good wili come. " Might just as well enjoy myself," said little Flyntey ; ** they don't expect any better from me." It was astonishing to both father and mother that Flyntey had no instinctive notions about meum and tuum ; and that he should have come into the world so surprisingly ig^norant of the fundamental principles of the social compact, as to lay his unhallowed hands on whatever he wanted ; and we are constrained to admit that a knowledge of the rights of prop- erty was not spontaneous in his infant mind; so that, if he desired to have a thing, it was most likely, if occasion served, that he would take that very thing, putting it either into his mouth or into his pocket, with no very serious visitations of 172 neal's sketches. remorse for having gone contiary to the statutes. We can not well account for it, but there is no contending against the fact, made apparent so frequently, that Flyntey's propen- sities, appetites, and inclinations, were developed in advance of his reasoning and restraining powers. Was he not a wicked one, the little Flyntey, not to comprehend, as soon as his eyes were open, that people on this earth are not to do exactly as they like 1 — and what are we to expect from that childhood, like Flyntey's, which could not at once anticipate the wisdom gathered by years? Of course, there was but one recipe for expediting his intellectual progress, and many chastisements were invoked to ripen conscience, and to ex- pand causality. '* Let that alone, you Flyntey ! "And why must I let it alone ? — I want that — I will have that!" " Because, if you don't let it alone, I'll whip you within an inch of your life — I will, you thief!" The reasoning, perhaps, may be regarded as sound — there is no doubt whatever that the whipping to which it iiointed was, in general, sound enough — but yet little Flyn- tey Harte could only understand from this admonition, not so much that it was his duty and his best interest to resist the impulses of his acquisitiveness, as that it was his policy so to regulate them as to ** 'scape whipping." He saw nothing more than the arbitrary will of another and a stronger, based upon barefaced power, arraying itself against the cravings of his ovvu individual will, and condescending to no kindly explanations of its conduct; and little Flyntey, unconvinced, called in the flexibilities of insincerity and cunning, to enable him to creep round obstacles that he could not directly surmount. The petty larceny, in conse- quence, bloomed into one of his choicest accomplishments. Nay, even when detection was inevitable, he weighed and balanced the g(»od with the evil. If the pleasure of attain- ing his end seemed to transcend the torment of the penalty FLYNTEY IIARTE. 173 he enjoyed the one at the cost of the other, and looked upon himself as a gainer by the bargain. Another sin ovular result soon manifested itself Little Flyntey Harte, though himself fresh, as it were, from the sorrows of affliction, and from the griefs of infliction, proved to be a tyrant and an oppressor — very cruel and very bar- barous, to all who were unable to defend themselves — he moved a terror to the smaller children, and a horror to the cats and dogs. He had, somehow or other — can you ima- gine how? — gathered one generalization into his magazine of maxims, that pain of a corporeal nature is the great actu- ating impulse of the world, and that it should be employed as a means of procuring amusement as freely as for any other purpose whatever. " If you are not hurt yourself," thought Flyntey, ** it's prime sport to hurt other people," and accordingly, none were safe from his machinations in that respect ; and direful Were the complaints on this score against little Flyntey Harte. But here again — what is to be done in such a case? — the precepts of humanity, so in- dustriously flogged into him, answered no other end than that of increasing the evil, by rendering it the more guarded, and the more difficult to avoid. Even the mollifying influence of ratan, cowskin, or horsewhip, were impotent in impart- ing the lessons of kindness, charity, and love. They rather aggravated the treacherousness of and malignity which they were intended to eradicate. There had been an endeavor, likewise, according to the canons of flagellation, to place young Flyntey Harte en rapport with veracity, that he might, in the way of forming a creditable acquaintance, sometimes have to do with the truth. But, by his own sinister mode of reasoning, our hero came to peculiar conclusions : — "Flyntey, did you take that sugar, or smoke them cigars V* inquired his father, as he gave significant pliancy to a rod ; "come — tell the truth now." " If I do tell the truth," mused Flyntey, eying the rod 174 neal's sketches, askance, and estimating from long expeiience, its capacity for mischief, "if I do tell the truth, there is no mistake about it — I shall be whaled, sartin — but if I don't tell the truth, ^may be I'll get off clear — them's the chances; and I go for the chances." "No, sir; it wasn't me," replied Flyntey, with an iron countenance, and with that steady front of denial which practice in deceit is sure to give ; and it depended upon the chances aforesaid whether he should be chastised or not ; but if, unluckily, the evidences of the deed, or the accidental exasperations of paternal temper were against him, Flyntey Harte would be corrected in exten.so. In that event the re suit was still the same as before hinted at. "I'll teach you to steal sugar!" and the lesson did teach nim, not so much that the felonious appropriation of forbid- den sweets was improper and unjustifiable, but that it should be done. Spartanlike, in J^vay to preclude the pos- sibility of being discovered. Th"deficiency was made up in sand. "I'll teach you to tell falsehoods!" and the teaching — which played lively enough about the back, but came not near the heart — did induce the patient to exercise more ingenuity in the getting up of denials, subterfuges, and eva- sions, than had been his preceding practice. " They talk to me a good deal about the truth," solilo- quized Flyntey, " and they say truth is a pretty nice sort of thing; but I don't believe a word of it. Own up, must I, whenever I've had a bit of fun to myself? I sha'n't ! — Owning up is always a pair of boxed ears — I don't like that — and as for the truth, why that is a thunderin' big hiding, every time. They ask me for the truth ; and when I tell it, they always switch me ; and if I don't tell the truth, then they switch me to make me tell it; and after I have told it, they switch me again, because I told it. Whenever I hear of the truth, it's as sure as can be, that switching is uot far off. They always go together ; and I'll do my best FLYNTEY HARTE. 175 to keep out of such disagreeable company. If they want to know who it was that broke the closet window, and took the preserves, let 'em find it out by their learning. It's just as easy to say no, as it is to say yes ; and it's cheaper, con- siderable. And now I'll go and enjoy myself. Catch me telling the truth, to get a flogging." «n where the blame and responsibility should rest, for all Flynl^y Haite's mischances and misdeeds. The theme, perhaps, may be found worthy of a moment's thought, in its connexion with the varied systems of youthful training with which ou' age abounds. 180 weat' NKAL S SKETCHES. THE MERRY CHRISTMAS AND THE HAPPY NEW YEAR OP MR. DUNN BROWN. Poor Mr. Dunn Brown ! Do you not, friend, pity any one who thus bears engraved upon his front the unerring signs of a sad and discontented spirit — you, we mean, all of you, who are gifted — if, as this world goes, it be a gift to feel acutely those sorrows which appertain rather to our neighbors than ourselves — who are afflicted, then, if you prefer it so, with philanthropy and ten- derness of heart? Are you not disposed, when in the mood, and with time to spare for the purpose, to weep over the un- known sufferings of the rueful Mr. Dunn Brown, and to enter largely on the work of sympathization and of condolement, shaking him gently by the hand, with a tear or two in your eye, as you advise him to be of good cheer, and to " get up and try it again ?" We are sure it must be so. Yet we fear that all of this disinterested kindness of yours is a waste and a throwing away of benevolence. Mr. Dunn Brown is not to be comforted — Mr. Dunn Brown does not wish to be comforted — Mr. Dunn Brown regards himself as happier to be unhappy than all the rest of the world as it revels in felicity and runs riot in delight. Laugh who will — sing who may — dance whoever has the agility — Dunn Brown has more of pleasure, according to his ideas of pleas- ure, in these doleful groanings of his than is to be conceived of by any of the inferior nature. For, as he thinks, they, poor creatures, ** don't know any better." But he — Mr. Ounn Brown — will not enjoy delight upon such terms as MR. DUNN BROWN. 181 these — he knows a great deal better — ask him, and he will tell you so — and therefore, on a principle, makes the worst of things, and exults sulkily in his superior wisdom, with a smile of scornfulness and contempt for those triflers in the sunbeam who are so weak as to be content and merry. Dunn Brown is not to be caught in the perpetration of such a silliness, but growls, he does, and grumbles, in all the ex- asperation of a splenetic spirit — the great, the wise, the profound Mr. Dunn Brown — who is there, anywhere, but Mr. Dunn Brown 1 Who is there that has been, can be, or will be, to compare with Mr. Dunn Brown 1 True, Mr. Dunn Brown, with his keen perception of val- ues, wishes misanthropically, both night and morning, that he never had been born, regarding it as the greatest misfor- tune that ever happened to him, to have made an appearance on this sublunary sphere of trouble and disquietude; but, for all that, Mr. Dunn Brown is as firm as can be in the faith that it would have been a disaster to the world itself, if the age we live in had not been enlightened by his example, and by the comments on it which were only to be imagined and uttered by a man like him — if, indeed, there could by possi bility have been another man like him cotemporaneous with Mr. Dunn Brown — who firmly believes that, however it may be with others, he stands alone, without a parallel — only one Dunn Brown — the rest are verdant in their tinge and col- oring. He — he only — is not to be deceived by the toys and sugar-plums of existence, into a belief that there is any- thing worth living for — he sees, he knows, he comprehends; and he scorns the superficial gilding which makes others happy in their tinselled gingerbread. When Dunn Brown rises in the morning, he rails at the day which calls him to another succession of plagues and perplexities, in causing ends to meet, and in providing for the demands of business. When Mr. Dunn Brown goes to bed at night, Mr. Dunn Brown is at least half inclined to the opinion, that if it were not for the loss that would thus be 26 182 neal's sketches. sustained by society, it would be an economy if he were never to wake again — a saving in the way of tears and a re- trenchment in the matter of misanthropic reflection. You should see Mr. Dunn Brown as he makes his forlorn appear- ance at the breakfast-table, and imbibes his nutriment — how he carps, how he complains, how he argues against the soundness of every proposition that may be broached ; ob- jecting to the coffee, impugning the cakes, and placing the seal of his reprobation on the savory sausage ; croaking and eating until the argument and the appetite are both exhaust- ed, and his hunger and his querulousness are satisfied and silenced. Do see Mr. Dunn Brown at his breakfast, in pref- erence to a visit to the menagerie. Should the process be converted into an exhibition, it would be cheap at twenty-five cents, only to acquire a knowledge of the ferocious capabili- ties of Mr. Dunn Brown. "And now, a merry Christmas to you, Mr. Dunn Brown." " Merry stuff — merry nonsense — merry fiddlesticks !" re- sponds Mr. Dunn Brown — '* pretty merriment, indeed, to be compelled to empty your pockets, whether you want to or not, to give things to people who don't care a button about you, after they have obtained what they want, with their merry Christmas, and all that — and that's not the worst of it either, for you must bother your brains for a week, think- ing what you shall give them, and then not hit upon the right thing after all — all sorts of things, too, that are useless — fine books to those who never read, with precious curiosities that only serve to lumber up all the dark closets. Now, I'll leave it to any man, any woman — yes, and any child, I will, whether it is not the first requisite of a Christmas-box, that it should not be available for any purpose — too fine to touch — too frail to be employed. The whole house is cluttered up with Christmas-boxes ; and all the children are either crying over their broken toys, or are very sick with surfeits of pie and candy. D'ye call that merry Christmas, I'd lika to know?" MR. DUNN BROWN. 183 "Oh, yes — 'merry Christmas,' to be sure — and what does that mean ? Yes — what does that mean when you take your dictionary and translate it into plain language 1 Why, a half-dollar at least, if it dues not come to a great deal more than fifty cents. You want to be merry at my expense, do you, Mr. Merry Christmas? — Well, when I'm sent to the legislature, I'll have a law passed against all such merri- ments, I will. Every man shall shake his own hand, and everybody buy his own Christmas-box — that's my notion, and that's the way I'd box 'em, all round, and see who'd be merry then." **A happy New- Year, Mr. Dunn Brown — I wish you a very happy New- Year." "A happy New-Year !" cries Mr. Dunn Brown ; " I wish you would tell me where I'm to find the happiness of the New-Year, when all the world comes pecking at me with their bills, as if a man had nothing else to do but to pay money — everything going out and not a farthing coming in — tailors' boys, bootmakers' boys — all sorts of boys, bill in one hand and t'other hand extended for the cash, pulling at the bell, too, as if it was the greatest sport in the world to pre- vent a man from having one moment of peace and happiness. And this is your New- Year — your happy New- Year ! The old year was bad enough ; but each of your New- Years is a great deal worse than any that went before. I can say for one, that I never want to see a New-Year again as long as I live ; for no sooner is the old year fixed off comfortably, than in comes another to disturb the whole arrangement." It will thus be seen that Mr. Dunn Brown is ever to be found in that melancholy measure which is familiarly known to the rest of the world as " a peck of troubles ;" and that whatever may chance to occur, it is certain to give rise to a discourse somewhat of the funereal order. To all anniversa- ries he has an especial aversion, and nothing moves his wrath more effectively than to speak of the celebration of a birth* day — his own, or that of any other person. 184 neal's sketches. " Your birthday, Mr. Dunn Brown — is it not? How old, Mr. Dunn Brown ]" "How old?" — why not, O world! — why not, in this matter, change and transmute your phraseology? How old! — is it agreeable thus to be reminded of the course of time and of the progress of decay, by your " how old V Would it not be as easy to say, " How young are you now," instead of thus continually reminding people that their span on earth is marching rapidly to its close? "And here it is again !" exclaims Mr. Dunn Brown. ** Why could not our lives have been begun at the other end, so that we might be growing younger every day, instead of dwindling into wrinkles and gray hairs? — then they would say * fifty years young,' instead of * fifty years old,' which would be vastly more agreeable — 'getting young fast' — wouldn't that be nice? But to rejoice over birthdays, the way they have them now, it's the silliest thing I ever heard of. Nobody sees me making a fuss about my birthday, any more than I do about your merry Christmas and your happy New-Year, No — I keep just as quiet about it as ever I can — sort'er dodge round it, and try to make myself forget that there ever was such a thing as a birthday, instead of ciphering over it as some people do, as if there were a pleasure in counting how much is gone and how little re- mains." It will, therefore, be perceived that Mr. Dunn Brown is a species of philosopher — sad and sombre — as we find it usu- ally the case with your incipient philosopher, who, in the first stages of his advancement, cries aloud that all is barren. But Dunn Brown advances no further than grumbletonianism ; and we fear that there he will remain, Dunn Brown, con- vinced that man, legitimately, is never properly employed unless he is engaged in the useful operation of shedding tears of vain regret and finding fault with that which is to be re- garded as the irremediable, not knowing that there is some- thing beyond this which enables humanity to make the best MR. DUNN BROWN. 185 of its position and to be happy with the circumstances which surround it. But still, Dunn Brown has that negative happiness which consists in pluming himself upon his superior sagacity in the pleasant labor of the discovering of miseries and the prepara- tion of torments, while he likewise gathers comfort in the habit of despising those who are foolish enough not to engage in the cultivation of sorrow, which with Dunn Brown may be regarded as a species of wholesale manufacture. "Any man" — it is Dunn Brown's decided conviction, which he carries out practically — " any man — a live man, who is not decidedly miserable all the time he is alive, must be a goose — there's no alternative. I'm thankful I'm not a goose, but a sensible, thinking individual, and, of course, just about as miserable a man as you could wish to see, especially about the New-Year, when the silly ones keep up such a firing of guns, as if they could drive off the charges of cred- itors°by the discharges of blank-cartridge — a thing not to be did. But I do wish that a man could somehow or other con- trive to run away from himself as easily as he can run away from other people. If anybody will find out how to do that, he shall be remembered in my will, if there happens to be anything over, which, from present appearances, isn't very likely." And so Mr. Dunn Brown sits down in his "old armchair," to rail at the world and to congratulate himself upon his own wretchedness, until he is shrivelled away to a mere anatomy, unhappy Dunn and melancholy Brown! One of his children is to be educated as a sexton, while the other is to walk abroad in the shadowy guise of an undertaker, as Dunn Brown himself saunters through creation as its mourner-in- chief, by constitution and by preference. Should he be smit- ten by the love of military renown, the regiment he belongs to must parade and muster as "the Blues" — no other color will serve — no other color can prevail where he is present; and should too much of mirtlifulness pervade your vicinity 186 NEAL*S SKETCirES. ask Mr. Dunn Brown to step in now and then, and our life on it, there will soon be a sufficient infusion of gall and bit- terness, of misanthropy and discontent, to qualify the whole matter to suit the most lugubrious fancy. Dunn Brown is a perpetual memento m,ori — an everlasting remembrancer of the insecurity of all human happiness ; and we'd like to see any of you venture upon a laugh or try the experiment of a joke in his awful presence. Next to the obituary notices in the journals, one of Dunn Brown's greatest enjoyments in life is in the perusal of the bulletin-boards of the newspaper- offices, when they recount the latest steamboat disaster, or the most recent catastrophe upon a railroad. Depend upon it, that he will meet you on the wharf, or greet you at the depot, with all the most comfortable particulars of the peril you are about to encounter. In this respect, Dunn Brown is careful that you should have none of that species of bliss which is the offspring of ignorance ; and should you thus serve to furnish an item of " appalling intelligence,'* you will be pleased to remember, as the boiler bursts, that you would rush upon your fate in defiance of the friendly cautions of your careful friend, the immortal Dunn Brown, who knew well how it would be, and who did not hesitate to tell you so. Perhaps the thought may prove a source of comfort in your Bufferings. At all events, 'twas not the fault of Mr. Dunn Brown. Was it, now] PELEG W. PONDEP. 187 PELEG W. PONDER: OR, THE POLITICIAN WITHOUT A SIDE. It is a curious thing — an unpleasant thing — a very em- barrassing sort of thing — but the truth must be told — if not at all times, at least sometimes ; and truth now compels the declaration, that Peleg W. Ponder, whose character is here portrayed, let him travel in any way, can not arrive at a conclusion. He never had one of his own. He scarcely knows a conclusion, even if he should chance to see one be- longing to other people. And, as for reaching a result, he would never be able to do it, if he could stretch like a giraffe. Results are beyond his compass. And his misfortune is, perhaps, hereditary, his mother's name having been Mrs. Perplexity Ponder, whose earthly career came to an end while she was in dubitation as to which of the various physi- cians of the place should be called in. If there had been only one doctor in the town, Perplexity Ponder might have been saved. But there were many — and what could Per- plexity do in such a case? Ponder's father was run over by a wagon, as he stood de- bating with himself, in the middle of the road, whether he should escape forward or retreat backward. There were two methods of extrication, and between them both old Pon- der became a victim. How then could their worthy son, Peleg, be expected to arrive at a conclusion ? He never does. 18S neal's sketches. Yet, for one's general comfort and particular happiness, there does not appear to be any faculty more desirable than the power of " making up the mind." Right or wrong, it saves a deal of wear and tear; and it prevents an infinite variety of trouble. Commend us to the individual who closes upon propositions like a nutcracker — whose promptness of will has a sledge-hammer way with it, and hits nails contin- ually on the head. Genius may be biilliant — talent com- manding; but what is genius, or what is talent, if it lack that which we may call the clinching faculty — if it hesitates, veers, and flutters — suffers opportunity to pass, and stumbles at occasion ? To reason well is much, no doubt ; but reason loses the race, if it sits in meditation on the fence when com- petition rushes by. Under the best of circumstances, something must be left to hazard. There is a chance in all things. No man can so calculate odds in the affairs of life as to insure a certainty. The screws and linchpins necessary to our puipose have not the inflexibility of a fate ; yet they must be trusted at some degree of risk. Our candle may be put out by a puff of wind on the stairs, let it be sheltered ever so carefully. Betsy is a good cook, yet beefsteaks have been productive of strangu- lation. Does it then follow from this, that we are never to go to bed, except in the dark, and to abstain from breaking our fast until dinner is announced 1 One may pause and reflect too much. There must be ac- tion, conclusion, result, or we are a failure, to all intents and purposes — a self-confessed failure — defunct from thebegin* ning. And such was the case with Peleg W. Ponder, who never arrived at a conclusion, or contrived to reach a result. Peleg is always "stumped" — he "don't know what to think" — he "can't tell what to say" — an unfinished gentleman, with a mind like a dusty garret, full, as it were, of rickety furniture, yet nothing serviceable — broken-backed chairs — three-legged tables — pitchers without a handle — cracked decanters and fractured looking-glasses — that museum of PELEG W. PONDER. 189 mutilations, in which housewifery rejoices, under the vague, but never-realized hope, that these things may eventually " come in play." Peleg's opinions lie about the workshop of his brain, in every stage of progress but the last — chips, sticks, and sawdust, enough, but no article ready to send home. Should you meet Peleg in the street, with " Good morn- ing, Peleg — how do you find yourself to-day 1" «* Well — I don't know exactly — I'm pretty — no, not very — pray, how do you do, yourself?" Now, if a man does not know exactly, or nearly, how he is, after being up for several hours, and having had abundant time to investigate the circumstances of his case, it is useless to propound questions of opinion to such an individual. It is useless to attempt it with Peleg. " How do you do," puz- zles him — he is fearful of being too rash, and of making a reply which might not be fully justified by after-reflection. His head may be about to ache, and he has other suspicious feelings. ** People are always asking me how I do, and more than half the time I can't tell — there's a good many different sorts of ways of feeling betwixt and between * Very sick, I thank you,' and * Half dead, I'm obliged to you;' and people won't stop to hear you explain the matter. They want to know right smack, when you don't know right smack yourself. Sometimes you feel things a-coming, and just after, you feel things a-going. And nobody's exactly prime all the while. I ain't, anyhow — I'm kinder so just now, and I'm sorter t'other way just after. — Then, some people tell you that you look very well, when you don't feel very well — how then ?" At table, Peleg is not exactly sure what he will take; and sits looking slowly up and down the board, deliberating what he would like, until the rest of the company have finished their repast, there being often nothing left which suits Pe leg's hesitating appetite. 190 neal's sketches. Telecr has never married — not that he is averse to the o connubial state — on the contrary, he has a large share of the susceptibilities, and is always partially in love. But female beauty is so various. At one time, Peleg is inclined to be- lieve that perfection lies in queenly dignity — the majesty of an empress fills his dreams ; and he looks down with disdain upon little people. He calls them " squabs," in derogation. But anon, in a more domestic mood, he thinks of fireside happiness and quiet bliss, declining from the epic poetry of loveliness, to the household wife, who might be disposed to bring him his slippers, and to darn the hole in his elbow. When in the tragic vein, he fancies a brunette ; and when the sunshine is on his soul, blue eyes are at a premium. Should woman possess the lightness of a sylph, or should her charms be of the more solid architecture 1 Ought her countenance to beam in smiles, or will habitual pensiveness be the more interesting 1 Is sparkling brilliancy to be pre- ferred to gentle sweetness ? ** If there wasn't so many of them, I shouldn't be so bothered," said Peleg; " or, if they all looked alike, a man couldn't help himself. But yesterday, I wanted this one — to-day, I want that one ; and to-morrow, I'll want t'other one ; and how can I tell, if I should get this, or that, or t'other, that it wouldn't soon be somebody else that I really wanted 1 That's the difficulty. It always happens so with me. When the lady's most courted, and thinks I ought to speak out, then I begin to be skeered, for fear I've made a mistake, and have been thinking I loved her, when I didn't. May be it's not the right one — may be she won't suit — may be I might do better — may be I had better not venture at all. I wish there wasn't so many ' may-bes' about every- thing, especially in such affairs. I've got at least a dozen unfinished courtships on hand already." But all this happened a long time ago; and Peleg has gradually lost sight of his fancy for making an addition to his household. Not that he has concluded, even yet, to PELEG W. PONDER. 191 remain a bachelor. He would be alarmed at the bare men- tion of such an idea. He could not consent to be shelved in that decisive manner. But he has subsided from active "looking around" in pursuit of his object, into that calm irresponsible submissiveness, characteristic of the somewhat elderly bachelor, which waits until she may chance to pre- sent herself spontaneously, and ** come along" of her own accord. "Some day — some day," says Peleg ; "it will happen some day or other. What's the use of being in a hurry V* Peleg W. Ponder's great object is now ambition. His personal affairs are somewhat embarrassed by his lack of enterprise ; and he hankers greatly for an office. But which side to join? Ay, there's the rub! Who will purvey the loaf and fish ? For whom shall Peleg shout 1 Behold him, as he puzzles over the returns of the state elections, laboring in vain to satisfy his mind as to the result in the presidential contest. Stupefied by figures — perplexed by contradictory statements — bothered by the general hur- rah ; what can Peleg do ] " Who's going to win ? That's all I want to know," ex- claims the vexed Peleg ; " I don't want to waste my time a blowing out for the wrong person, and never get a thank'e. What's the use of that ] There's Simpkins — says 1, Simp- kins, says I, which is the party that can't be beat. And Simpkins turns up his nose and tells me every fool knows that — it's his side — so I hurrah for Simpkins's side as hard as I can. But then comes Timpkins — Timpkins's side is t'other side from Simpkins's side, and Timpkins offers to bet me three levies that his side is the side that can't be beat. Hurrah! says I, for Timpkins's side! — and then I can't tell which side. " As for the newspapers, that's worse still. They not only crow all round, but they cipher it out so clear, that both sides must win, if there's any truth in the ciphering-book ; which there isn't about election times. What's to be done ? 192 neal's sketches. I've tried going to all the meetings — I've hurraed for every* body — I've been in all the processions, and I sit a little while every evening in all sorts of headquarters. I've got one kind of documents in one pocket, and t'other kind of . documents in t'other pocket ; and as I go home at night, I sing one sort of song as loud as I can bawl half of the way, and try another sort of song the rest of the way, just to split the difference and show my impartiality. If I only had two votes — a couple of 'em — how nice it would be. " But the best thing that can be done now, I guess, as my character is established both ways, is to turn in quietly till the row is all over. Nobody will miss me when they are so busy ; and afterward, when we know all about it, just look for Peleg W. Ponder as he comes down the street, shaking people by the hand, and saying how we have used them up. I can't say so now, or I would — for I am not perfectly sure yet which is * we,* or which is * them.' Time enough when the election is over." It will thus be seen that Ponder is a remarkable person. Peter Schlemihl lost his shadow, and became memorably unhappy in consequence ; but what was his misfortune when compared with that of the man who has no side ] What are shadows if weighed against sides 1 And Peleg is almost afraid that he never will be able to get a side, so unlucky has he been heretofore. He begins to dread that both sides may be defeated ; and then, let us ask, what is to become of him 1 Must he stand aside 1 NEAL'S CHARCOAL SKETCHES. BOOK THE THIUD. PETER PLODDY'S DREAM. Let no one be unjust to Ploddy— to Peter Ploddy, once "young man" to Mr. Figgs, the grocer, and now junior partner of the flourishing firm of Figgs and Ploddy. Though addicted a little to complaint, and apt to institute comparisons unfavourable to himself, it would be a harsh judgment to set him down as ever having been envious, in the worst sense of the word. It is true, no doubt, that at the period of his life concerning which we are now called upon to speak, a certain degree of discontent with his own position occasionally embittered his reflections ; but he had no wish to deprive others of the advantage they possessed, nor did he hate them on the score of their supposed superiority. It was not his inclination to drag men down, let them be situated as loftily as they might ; and whatever of vexation or perplex- ity he experienced in contemplating their elevation, arose altogether from the fact that he could not clearly under- stand why he should not be up there too. It was not productive of pleasurable sensations to Ploddy, to see folks splashed who were more elegantly attired than him- self. He never laughed from a window over the disas- trous results of a sudden shower ; nor could he find it in his heart to hope it would rain when his neighbours set gayly forth on a rural excursion. It is a question, indeed, whether it had been a source of satisfaction to him to see any one's name on a hst of bankrupts. The sherifT's ad- vertisements of property <' seized and taken in execution," were never conned over with delight by Peter Ploddy; 5 PETER PLODDy's DREAM- and when the entertainments given in his section of the town were as splendid as luxury and profusion could make them, it was yet possible for Peter to turn in his bed at the sound of the music and of the merriment, without a snarl about " there you go," and without a hint that there are headaches in store for the gentlemen, with a sufficient variety of coughs and colds for the ladies. He never said, because an invitation had not been addressed to Ploddy, that affairs of this sort make work for the doctors. It will be observed then, that Peter was not of a cyni- cal turn. Neither did he attempt to delude himself, as many do, into a belief that he despised the things which were denied to him. When his hands found an ampli- tude of room in empty pockets, he was candid to him- self, and wished them better filled, instead of vainly en- deavouring to exalt poverty above riches. When Thomp- son married wealth, or Johnson espoused beauty, it was no part of Peter's philosophy to think that extravagant habits might neutralize the one, and that the love of ad- miration could render the other rather a torment than a blessing. In short, Peter would have been pleased if both together had fallen to his share. Wealth and beauty might unite in Mrs. Peter Ploddy without causing con- sternation in his mind, and he confessed that the said Thompson and Johnson were lucky fellows. It being conceded that pedestrianism is a healthy exer- cise, and that being jumbled in an omnibus is a salutary impulse to the physical constitution, still Peter remained unshaken in the opinion, somewhat theoietical though it were, that a fine horse is not to be taken amiss, and that a smooth rolling carriage, however conducive to indo- lence it may be, is not an appendage to be altogether contemned. It is true, to be sure, that horses are often perilous to a rider's limbs, and it needs no demonstration PETER PLODDy's DREAM. at this late day to show that vehicular mischances are many ; but Peter was willing to encounter the risk, and to exchange the toilsome security of going on foot for the dangers incident to more elevated conveyance. Haugh- tily as they might travel by, he never even indulged him- self in a charitable hope that certain people might break their necks before they reached home, notwithstanding the quantity of dust thrown in his eyes. On such occa- sions, it was the habit with Peter to wipe his optics as carefully as possible, as he wondered why it was not his lot to kick up a similar cloud, to the astonishment of some other Peter. Here lay the trouble. Why was not Peter Ploddy otherwise than he was, if not in circumstances, at least in personal attributes ? Why was he environed by disad- vantages, when the favours of nature and of fortune had been so profusely distributed around him — when almost everybody but himself had something to boast about or to make capital of? — There, for instance, was his young friend Smith, at the apothecary's, over the way — Smith was a wit and a mimic — Smith could imitate all sorts of things, from the uncorking of a bottle to the plaintive howl of an imprisoned dog — his "bumbly-bee" was equal to any thing of the sort to be heard among the clover blossoms or in the buckwheat field — his mosquito would render a sound sleeper uneasy, and he could per- form a cat's concert so naturally that old Mr. Quiverton, who is nervous in his slumbers, has thus been made, more than once, to leap from his bed and dash his slip- pers into the yard, as he uttered imprecations upon the feline race in general and the apothecary's cats in par- ticular. The gifted Smith ! As a calf, too, he was magnificent. No one in town could bleat half so well. Why could not Ploddy have accomplishments like Smith ? — accomplishments which are the instinct of genius, and 27 8 PETER PLODDy's DREAM. not attainable by labour. For had not Ploddy tried the effect of practice .'' Had he not, in the solitude of his dormitory, devoted whole evenings to corking and un- corking a bottle, listening with all the ears he had to its peculiarities of expression — had he not given himself assiduously to the study of the " burably-bee" — endea- voured to analyze the vocalism of gallinippers, and whined industriously through successive hours? And with what result, as the reward of so much intensity of application and usefulness of labour ? A request from Figgs to quit his infernal noise o' nights, without the least doubt on the part of that respectable gentleman that the said noise was Peter's work. He did not even desire him to abstain from imitations — he did not recognise imitation in the matter at all. He spoke only of noise, without the slight^ est zoological or entomological allusion. And as for Mrs- Figgs, when Peter wished to test his progress by an effort at the " cat's concert" in the open air, did not her night- cap appear at the window and think that Peter Ploddy — "you Pete" — had better go to bed than stand screeching there ? She did notTisk whether it was Pete — she did not say " 'scat" — she knew it was Pete, in the dark. Yet Smith had never been so disparaged. He could pass for a cat, or for any thing he pleased. He had no difficulty in causing people to jump and to cry " get out!" And hence every one was proud of knowing Smith. It was equal to a free admission to the menagerie. Then there was Bill Baritone, at the dry-goods store. Bill sang delightfully, and was "invited out" every evening. A serenade was not regarded as complete without him. Nobody could be in greater demand than Bill Baritone, whose sentimental strains went to the heart of every young damsel. But when Peter Ploddy tried to sing, people stopped their ears — the neighbours sent in to know " what's the matter," and the boys in the 1 PETER PLODDy's DREAM. 9 street were of opinion that something had "broke loose" —a species of compliment for which Peter had no great reUsh, especially as the droll Mr. Smith had woven the affair into a story, and gave prime imitations of his vocal efforts, which were described as a bunch of " keys," and all sorts of " time," past, present, and to come. Peter had bought several music books, and had gone so far as to ask the price of a guitar ; but he soon abandoned the hope of competing with Baritone, though he continued to wish that he could sing— at least a little— just enough to enable his friends to discover what tune it was, or what tune it was meant to be. It is so discouraging to be obUged to tell them the name of it. Tom Quillet, who was reading law round the corner, how he could talk— how he did talk— how he could not be prevented from talking! Ploddy had not the shadow of a chance when Tom was present. In the first place, Ploddy was not very rapid in raking up an idea— it often took him a considerable time to find any thing to talk about, and to determine whether it was wortli talking about, when he had found it ; and then it was to be brushed up and dressed in words fit to go out. Tom Quillet, on the contrary, was a walking vocabulary, who sent forth his words to look for ideas, being but Httle particular whether they found them or not; and he was, therefore, fully entered upon a speech which scorned subjection to the " one hour rule," before Ploddy had discovered a corner in his mind where a thought lay bur- rowing. Tom, in truth, used his friends as a target, and remorselessly practised elocution and oratory upon them on all occasions. He could talk Peter Ploddy right up, with the greatest ease. He was, in the comparison, like steam against sails. He could talk all round Peter— be- fore, behind, and on every side. Ploddy was not volu- ble, and Quillet either brought down or scared away 10 PETER PLODDY's DREAM. the game, while he was priming his gun to take sight at it. " Why can't I express myself like that everlasting Tom Quillet ?" thought Ploddy, in petulance ; " what he says don't often amount to much, to be sure, when you come to think of it, but it stretches over a deal of ground and hammers out broad and thin. A little goes a great way. I wonder if he ever heard anybody but him- self say any thing ? I wonder if he believes that any body but himself has a right to say any thing ? How does he do when he goes to church, I'd like to know, and must sit still without contradicting or giving his notions on the subject? How does he manage to stop his confounded clack long enough to get asleep ? — Should there ever be a Mrs. Tom Quillet, and should she ever happen to want to make an observation, which is very likely, she will die as certain as fate, of not being allowed to speak her mind. She'll die of a checked ut- terance and of a congestion of words. Her thoughts will be dammed up till she chokes wnth them. Tom will never give her a chance. He never gives me one — not half a one." Quillet was a politician, and a rising youth upon the stump, whither Ploddy ventured not to follow him. His elocutionary failure in social life had closed the gate of his ambition in this respect, and he felt assured that to gain distinction by the power of tongue did not fall within the compass of possibility, so far as he was con- cerned. Still he thought it a great thing to be able to talk — to be the operator rather than the patient — the surgeon in preference to being the subject — a Quillet rather than a Ploddy — on the general principle which ob- tains in warfare, that the offensive is apt to be a surer game than the defensive, as it affords room for choice in PETER PLODDY's DREAM. H the time and method of attack, whereas the other party is never safe, and must always be on the qui vive. All these dashing qualities, with others that might be named, which are placed first in order as coming first in Ploddy's estimation, could perhaps have been dispensed with, had he been able to discover things in himself cal- culated to compensate for their absence. As a matter of immediate concern, he fell back upon his quiet common sense and sound u^nobtrusive judgment. We always think much of our common sense and sound judgment, when surpassed in more showy characteristics. Almost everybody has a wonderful degree of judgment— judg- ment more precious than other people's genius ; and who is endowed with talent equal in value to our common sense ? Like the rest of the world, Peter derived conso- lations from this source ; but it was his youthful desire to be able to flash and glitter, if he could only discover the way to excel, or the line for which he was quaUfied. He had consumed no litde time in fruitless efforts, musical, mimetic and otherwise, to acquire accompUshments which were impossibilities to him, as has happened and will continue to happen in more cases than that of Mr. Peter Ploddy, and he had encountered both toil and dis- appointment to convince himself of disqualifications ob- vious from the first to every one except himself. But in giving up these, he sighed for others equally unattainable. He saw that every man's life is a story, and that every man must perforce, and for want of a better, be the hero of his own story. Now, in examining the magazines, the nouvellettes, and the historiettes of the day, it will be discovered that heroes are always tall and generally valiant. Peter Ploddy was not much above five feet, and he resigned from the Thunderpump fire company be- cause he had no fancy for riots, or for being hit over the head with brass trumpets and iron spanners. He never 12 PETER PLODDy's DREAM. liked " games of that sort." Heroes are graceful too ! but Ploddy's dancing was not at all admired. It would have been strange if it had been. Heroes are handsome, moreover, wdth dark eyes, clustering curls and umbrage- ous whiskers. But the mirror insisted upon it to Ploddy that he was not handsome — vero;inor rather in another direction — that his eyes w^ere of a dubious lightness, his hair sandy, and his whiskers discontinuous, uncertain and sparse. He gazed sadly upon Mr. Daffodil T\vod, the pretty man in the perfumery way and the fancy line. Sweet Mr. Twod ! — with such loveliness, it is w^orth one's while to strap tight and to make costume a science. But Ploddy was not improvable into any resemblance, however remote, to the Narcissus family. Nor could he approximate otherwise to his impressive friend, Sam- son Hyde, the currier, who was wild and wonder- ful, at the corner of the street. Samson Hyde — what a martial figure he was gifted with — what mountains of chest, and what acres of shoulder. And his frown — so terrific. How Samson Hyde could fight — how he did fight, whenever opportunity occurred. " I wish I was Samson Hyde the currier," ejaculated Ploddy, as he doubled his fists and endeavoured to scowl Dick, the shop-boy, into entire and utter annihilation. As Dick only asked whether Mr. Ploddy had got something in his eye, that he made such funny faces, Mr. Ploddy felt that the attempt to pulverize the boy by mesmerization was an undeniable failure — he felt at once, as he attempted to hide his confusion by adjusting a box of candles, that there was nothing fascinating in his qualities, picturesque in his appearance, or heroic in his composition — that he could not surpass the men, attract the women or confound the urchins — that he had not even the genius to make a fortune at a blow, like Mr. Headover Slapdash, the specu- lator, who rolled in wealth and built long rows of houses PETER PL0DDY'*S DREAM. 13 • — that he had no inward or outward gifts to afford success or prominence — undistinguished and undistinguishable Peter Ploddy, young man to Mr. Figgs, the grocer ! In meditating upon the injustices of nature and the in- equaUUes of fortune, Peter, even at his post of business, grew melancholy and abstracted. He sometimes sold salt for sugar, and sent people honey instead of oil, to fill their lamps and to illuminate their ways. Mr. Figgs found it necessary to take him aside and to " talk to him seriously," which all who have chanced to be subjected to it know to be as unpleasant an operation as a young man can undergo and expect to survive. There is nothing worse than being " talked to seriously," in an empty room, the door locked and no help at hand, though elderly gentlemen are so much addicted to it. Mrs. Figgs, however, with the gentleness peculiar to her sex, w^as not so cruel. She had not much faith in having persons " talked to," and, besides, she was con- vinced that the young man must be crossed in love, as she had an exalted idea of the potency of the tender passion, particularly among those employed in the retail grocery business, v/hich she regarded as calculated to increase the susceptibilities and to soften the heart. Figgs had been struck with her, and she had been struck with Figgs, under circumstances of this description, and it had ever since rendered her firm in the faith that a young woman, whether she be sent for soap, sugar or tea, is very likely to be smitten by the insinuating individual who waits upon her, and that the insinuating individual himself is in love all the time, and, for the most part, with a great many at a time. However this may be as a general rule, though not exactly applicable in the instance under discussion, it is nevertheless true that employments have their effect, somewhat in the manner suggested by Mrs. Figgs. Your baker's boy, for example, who serves cus* 14 PETER PLODDY's DREAM. tomers of a morning — what a destroyer of hearts is he ! what a concentration of coquettishness, as he goes flirting from door to door, distributing loaves of bread, words of love and seductive glances all over town. He is a dan- gerous fellow, that same baker's boy — none the less so because his experience is so extensive that his own heart is Cupid-proof, and is rarely, even in extreme cases, scratched deeper than his tally. " Peter's crossed in love," repeated Mrs. Figgs, at the tea-table, in the little back room ; " Peter's crossed in love. He snores so loud you can hear him all over the house, and that's a sure sign of being blighted in the affections and nipped in the bud, as a body may say. First, they snore, and then they borrow pistols, and buy clothes-lines, and fippenny-bits- worth's of corroding sub- limity, done up in white paper, with the name pasted on the outside. It is actually shocking the cruelty of us women," and Mrs. Figgs "wiped away a tear." " I've heard Peter sythe by the hour," observed Miss Priscilla Figgs, in corroboration of her mother. "Yes, my dear," added Mrs. Figgs, "young gentle- men that have got the mitten, or young gentlemen who think they are going to get the mitten, always sythe. It makes 'em feel bad, poor innocent little things, and < then they heave a sythe,' as the song says. You should have heard your father when he was in a state of suspension about whether I was going to have him or not. Several people thought it was a poi-pus." " Do porpusses get the mitten, ma?" interjected little Timothy Figgs, who was always on the search for infor- mation. "I didn't think fishes ever wore mittens." " Pshaw, you're always talking about love and mittens and stuff*, as if people had time for such nonsense now- a-days," said Mr. Figgs, sternly. Figgs had survived Ids sentimental era, and grew impatient at any reminis- PETER PLODDy's DREAM. 15 cences of it. The reference to the "porpus" nettled him. « If Peter is crossed as you say, wait till we take an ac- count of stock next week. That will cure him, I'll be bound. But the long and the short of it is, that if he keeps growing stupid, I'll send him adrift. I'm afraid he is beginning to read books and buys cheap publica- tions. Reading books is enough to ruin anybody. There ought to be tee-total societies against it." But Peter was not then in love, or, if he were^ he was not fully conscious of the fact ; nor did he read books enough to do him material injury. His complaint was ambition. He wanted to be something, and he did not know what, which is an embarrassing situation of affairs — he cared not what — rich, handsome, wise, witty, elo- quent, great upon the stump or fierce in regard to whis- ker — he would be a meteor, large or small — courted or feared — loved or envied — if not a cataract, at least a ripple on the wave, — more than Peter Ploddy had ever been or was like to be, — as funny as Smith, as musical as Baritone, as voluble and as impudent as Quillet, as pretty as Daffodil Twod, as big and as ferocious as Samson Hyde, as wealthy as Headover Slapdash was reputed to be. It was one of those aflernoons at the close of the month of June, which seem to have no end to them— when the sun, broad and blazing, appears to be unwilling to approach the horizon, and endeavours to make the night his own as well as the day — when the eye wearies of excess of light — when ice-creams are in their first flush of popularity and little boys paddle in the brook — when crops rejoice in green, while people sweltfei in white, — when nature clothes herself thickly in leaves, while the rest of the world divests itself of garments to as great an extent as the customs of society will permit. 16 PETER PLODDy's DREAM. It was such an afternoon as this, and the Figgs family were abroad for recreation. Dick, the boy, was out on an errand, trying how many hours could be consumed in a transit from one given point to another. Peter Ploddy was alone in the shop, labouring under a suspicion that customers must have departed this life, and that buying things had become an " obsolete idea" — so he availed himself of the opportunity and of a friction match, to find recreation in the smoking of a segar. Reclining upon coffee bags, he puffed and he mused, he mused and he puifed, until the smoke circled around him in lazy clouds, and his brain grew as hazy as the atmosphere. Light faded, sounds melted indistinctly away, and, at last, Peter imagined that he was rapidly travelling over the gulf of time, using his coming years for stepping stones, and anticipating the occurrences of the future, as if he were turning over the pages of a book of prints. The begin- ning and the end were equally within his ken, and, fixing himself at a point some eight or ten years after date, it struck him that he would like to know where " funny Smith" might chance to be at that period. The place certainly had somewhat the appearance of a theatre ; but of a theatre in a very small way — of a thea- tre in a consumption, and troubled with a difficulty of breathing. The room itself was not very large, but it was much too large for the audience, who disposed of themselves in various picturesque positions, as if desirous of making up in effect what they wanted in numbers. One individual had his pedal extremities on the bench before him, and looked, as it were, from a rest, his elbows placed upon his knees, while his chin reposed in the palms of his hands. Another was longitudinally ex- tended, with his back against the wall ; while others in- tersected at least three benches in their desire for repose, lifting tlieir heads at intervals to see what was going on. PETER PLODDy's DREAM. 17 The gentleman in the window seemed to be as comforta- ble as any, in his zigzag attitude, with his feet on one side and his shoulders on the other ; and he had the advantage too of seeing all that occurred, both inside and out, as was evident from his frequent remonstrances with certain juveniles in the street, who were poking him with a stick because he obstructed their view. '^ Git down, I tell you !" cried Zigzag, impatiently, every now and then. The candles were few and ghastly ; a single fiddle com- prised the strength of the orchestra, and it was quite enough ; for had there been more of the same sort, it would have been a questionable experiment upon the limits of auricular endurance. Ploddy paid his entrance money to a faded-looking woman, with one disconsolate child in her arms, and several others, equally forlorn and unkempt, hanging about her, while she herself, who, in her own person, united the offices of treasurer, check-taker and policeman, (in which latter capacity she often visited the window aforesaid, to aid Mr. Zigzag in making them <' git down" on the outside,) was a singular compound of the remains of beauty, of the slattern and of the virago — care-worn indeed, but theatrical still, like the odd volume of a romance, thumbed to tatters in the kitchen. A per- former was sustaining the regular drama by a series of " barn-yard imitations," which struck Ploddy's ear as familiar, as also seemed the figure of the imitator, though his hollow cheeks, painted face and flaxen wig set recog- nition for a moment at defiance. The well-known finale of the " cat's concert," however, dissipated doubt. It was Smith — the funny Smith — the envied Smith, who soon came round to " the front" to hold the baby and mind the door, while Mrs. Smith delighted the audience wuth a fancy dance. His countenance told a sad tale of disappointment, poverty and suffering, and rendered ex- planation unnecessary. 146 18 PETER PLODDY's DREAM. "It is just as well," thought Ploddy, as he slipped sadly away, " that I never could succeed in being a funny fellow, and made so poor a business of it at the cat's concert, and at imitating the bottle and the cork. This trying to make people laugh every night, from year to year, especially when their mouths are full of gingerbread, wouldn't do for me, and doesn't seem to do for Smith. I'd rather be Ploddy than Smith, if that's the way it's to be." As Peter went meditating along, musing upon the melancholy situation to which funny apothecaries, who think more of creating merriment than of wielding the pestle, may be reduced, he found himself, at the small hours of the night, in the streets of the city. He was startled by the sound of rattles, and almost overthrown by a rush of tipsy and uproarious gentlemen, who battled the watch, and would have battled also with Peter, but that he secured a birds-eye view of the scene from a lofty flight of steps. Mars proved false to Bacchus, and victory perched like an eagle upon the banner of the functionaries. " Well, bang my kerkus for a drum," panted Dogberry, "if this 'ere isn't that 'ere singing chap agin. I knows him by his mulberry nose. He's on a shindy somewhere or other every night, and gets knock'd down and tuck'd up three times a week, rig'ler. Old Calico, his daddy- in-law, has turned him out — couldn't stand it no longer, no how it could be fixed ; he got so blue and blew it out so strong. He's a musical genus, you see." " The corporation should make a contract for ketching him by the month, or else they should keep him ketch'd all the time," replied Verges. "Put the genus in a wheelbarrow," exclaimed Dog- berry, in tones of command, " and make the t'other fellers walk." A shade of doubt passed over Peter's mind as to Put the genus in a wheelbarrow.' exclaimed Dogberry, in tones of command, 'and make the t'other fellers walk.' " — Book III, j^a^'c 18. PETER PLODDy's DREAM. 19 whether the gifts of Bill Baritone had really, and in the long run, proved of benefit to him, and whether it was desirable, after all, to enjoy that degree of popularity which causes a youth to be "invited out" to conviviali- ties every evening. It was a distinction, perhaps, but Peter did not exactly like the order to "put the genus in the wheelbarrow." " But I must go to Quillet," said Peter, " and ask him to talk the police people over in the morning, to get poor Bill out of his troubles." Quillet, however, had exhaled and evaporated. The places that had known him, now knew him no more — no Quillet at the ward meetings — no Quillet on the stump. His talking abilities had converted him at last into a mere hanger-on of party — he neglected clients, and cli- ents returned the compliment by being equally neglectful of him. People praised him that he might do the work necessary for political triumph ; but when that was ac- complished, it so happened always, that somebody else reaped the advantage. " Good fellow, Quillet," said they, " but not popular — obnoxious — too much before the public. Can't recommend him, you know. Habits not very good — doesn't attend to his business — oughtn't to go to so many meetings ;" and the unlucky Quillet was finally starved out, to do his talking elsewhere. And the pretty man, in the fancy line, Mr. Twod — what disposition had these years made of him? He had dressed so well and lounged so much in the resorts of fashion, by way of showing what nature and the tailor had done for him, that in the end " Twod's Perfumery" was disposed of at public sale, without the slightest regard to his feelings on the subject ; and some remorseless stripHng, whose face must have been as hard as the contents of his bosom, had disfigured the door by a chalked inscription to the eflfect that " Pretty Mr. Twod is now safe in quod." rO PETER PLODDY's DREAM. "A face is not always a fortune," inferred Peter; " there are decided differences between being useful and being ornamental ;" and he had his own notions on another subject, when he became impressed with a belief that Samson Hyde, the currier, had disappeared suddenly, to avoid the consequences of a fatal fray, in which he was deeply implicated. Broad shoulders and alarming whis- kers were sinking below par — a man may have too much spirit. Pioddy was not sure, but it struck him that the bar- keeper at the Spread Eagle had a marvellous resem- blance to Mr. Headover Slapdash, the speculator, — a little older, but yet as restless as ever. What had pos- sibly become of his equipages, his magnificent mansion in town, his beautiful retreat in the country, his long rows of houses, and his immense accumulation of lots ^ Gone ! Could it be ? There was nothing more likely. " How different things seem to be in the end, from what they promise to be in the beginning," muttered Peter, as he moved uneasily upon the coffee-bags. " Strange, strange, very strange," and his foot dislodged a demijohn from its perch. The crash aroused him from slumbers and dreams, and he sprang to his feet in bewil- derment. " Headover Slapdash has exploded — didn't you hear the smash?" shouted Peter. " Crossed in love, poor thing," said Mrs. Figgs, as she rummaged for her sympathizing pocket-handkerchief. " Who crossed him, I'd like to know ?" cried Priscilla, with a twinge of jealousy. "He's becoming foolish," added Figgs. " He's been asleep, and has had an inkeybus," ob- served the youthful Timothy, whose bias was in a scien- tific direction. But Peter was rejoicing that it was only in his imagi- PETER PLODDy's DREAM. 21 nation that his friends had suffered, — that however real and however probable the whole matter appeared, it was still no more than a dream. There were hints in it, not- withstanding, which might be rendered useful, not to himself only, but to the other parties concerned. Peter was sure, at all events, that he had learned something about contentment with his position, with his faculties and with his physical endowments, which he had never acquired before, although he stood greatly in need of if. He had, in half an hour or so, anticipated the trying ex- periences of years, and saw that every condition has its compensations — that the higher the elevation, the more imminent the danger of a fall — that brilliancy may betray to ruin, and that successes are often lures to de- struction. Hum.bleness looked by no means so despi- cable as he had previously considered it. "Tolderol!" said Ploddy. <' You can't sing, Peter," remarked Mrs. Ploddy. " Pm glad of it," returned Ploddy, thinking of "genus" on the wheelbarrow ; " PU mind my business all the better." It was to this observation, coupled with a confirmatory change in his general business deportment, that Peter eventually was indebted for his position as a member of the firm of " Figgs and Pbddy," and a very prosperous, respectable, and wealthy firm it came to be, owing in part to Peter's dream, which also gained him the reputation of being a philosopher, in secretly furnishing the material for wise discourses upon the folly of inordinate ambition and vain desires. There was, however, another event in Peter's life which deserves to be chronicled as important. It was evident that there was something on his mind as he fidgetted before the glass — an unusual event with him — and he rum])!3d his hair in all directions. 22 PETER PLODDy's DREAM. "It's labour thrown away, Peter — you can't make yourself handsome," hinted Priscilla Figgs, rather mali- ciously, as she glanced over her sewing. But Peter had not been studying himself in the mirror. His eyes were on the reflected image of Miss Priscilla Figgs, who was by no means a disagreeable object. Ploddy had too much taste to look at himself when she was near. '^Ha! ha! — ho! ho! — I know it," said Peter ; "I've had a lucky escape." " Not a very narrow one, Pm sure," replied Priscilla, tossing her head, " whatever Sally Jones may think." " Sally who ?" " Sally Jones," responded Priscilla, poutingly. She ap- peared uncommonly pretty at that moment, and Peter had a sensation. "Now, Priscilla!" " Now Peter, you know — " "I don't — I don't know," and Peter drew nearer to the damsel, whose head was turned coquettishly away, but not far enough to prevent her downward glance from noting the progress of the approach. What explanations were made relative to Sally Jones, the historian saith not; but the inference is that they were satisfactory. "Peter, Peter, there's ma!" cried Miss Priscilla Figgs as she flew to the opposite side of the room, assuming a look of intense demureness, which was perhaps a little overacted, if not also a little contradicted by the mantling colour of her cheek and the dewy softness of her eyes. " Let her come," said Peter, with delight, " all the ma's there are, and pa into the bargain." Figgs had no objection to Peter as a son-in-law, now that he had "got over his foolishness," and was so strict n his attention to business, and " ma" was charmed to PETER PLODDy's DREAM. 23 think that her theory of the tender passion in reference to grocers, had been so happily illustrated, the more es- pecially as she had somewhat risked her reputation upon it that Peter was in love. Smith, Baritone, Quillet, Twod and Samson Hyde were at the wedding, and you may be sure there was a merry party. Peter told them his dream as a bachelor's legacy of warning against the dangers to which they were individually exposed, and the effect was no doubt salutary. Certain it is, that Peter Ploddy heard the clever imitations, the funny stories, and the good songs— hstened to Quillet's neat and appropriate speeches— saw the pretty man dance and the valiant man look heroic, without a shadow of discontent or envy, satisfied to be, in every particular, as he was and as he was like to be. Priscilla was decidedly good-looking enough for both, and Peter Ploddy w^as a happy man. 28 THE PEISON VAN ; OR, THE BLACK MARIA.* "Hush! there she comes !" It was a pleasant summer morning, — brightly shone the sun, and the neighbours gossipped at the door, Nancy polished the handles — Susan had the windows wide open, and, with handkerchief on head, leaned forth to join in the conversation. Mrs. Jenkins had been at market, and paused upon the step, with the provision- laden Polly. There was quite a discussion of the more agreeable points of domestic economy, and a slight sea- soning of harmless scandal gave piquancy to the dis- course. All were merry. Why, indeed, should they not be merry? Innocent hearts and balmy weather — sunshine within and sunshine without. No wonder their voices rang so cheerfully. Even Mr. Curmudgeon, over the way, that splenetic and supercritical bachelor, with no partner of his bosom but a flannel waistcoast, and with no objects of his tender care but the neuralgics and the rheumatics — even Mr. Curmudgeon chirped, and for once granted that it was a fine day, with no reservation whatever about the east wind, and without attempts to dash the general joy by casting forth suspicions that a storm was brewing. If he said so — if Mr. Curmudgeon confessed the fact — not a doubt can be entertained — it was a fine day beyond the reach of cavil — a day free from the reproach of a flaw — with no lingering dampness * la Philadelphia, the prisons are remote from the Courts of Justice, and carriages, which, for obvious reasons, are of a pecu- liar construction, are used to convey criminals to and fro. The popular voice applies the name of " Black Maria" to each of these melancholy vehicles, and, by general consent, this is their dis- tmguishing title. 24 THE BLACK MARIA. 25 from yesterday, and with no cloud casting its shadow be- fore, prospective of sorrows to-morrow. In short, every thing looked warm, cheerful, and gay the Nancies, the Pollies, and the Susans were prettier than usual— there are pretty days as well as lucky days— when cheeks are more glowing and eyes are more bril- liant than on ordinary occasions— when Mrs. Jenkins is more pleasant than is the wont even of pleasant Mrs. Jenkins, and when the extensive brotherhood of the Cur- mudgeons pat children on the head, and give them pennies — days when one feels as if he were all heart, and were gifted with the capacity to fall in love with every- body—happy days ! The day of which we speak was one of these days — nature smiled, and the people smiled in return. Nature approached as near to a laugh as was becoming in a matron at her time of life and with so large a family, while the people did laugh with the smallest provocation thereto. " Hush ! there she comes !" said somebody, in tones of commingled fear and curiosity. " Who comes ?" The finger of the speaker pointed steadfastly down the street. « Who comes ?" " Black Maria!" was the half- whispered reply. Conversation ceased— a shade of gloom passed over every brow — all gazed in the direction indicated — it was a melancholy pause — a pause of sad attention. "Black Maria!" was the unconscious and involuntary response. The children looked behind them, as if to ascertain whether the doors were open for retreat into the recesses of home, and then peeped timidly and cautiously around the skirts of their mothers. The mirth of their seniors was also checked in mid career. 26 THE PRISON van; OR, «« Black Maria,' sissy," said curly-headed Tom, and << sissy" clasped Tom's hand with the energy of appre- hension. " < Black Maria,' Tom!" repeated his aunt, with an air of warning and admonition, at which Tom seemed to understand a whole history, and was abashed. "Black Maria!" Who was this strange creature — this Black Maria — that came like a cloud across the ruddy day — that chills the heart wherever she passes ? What manner of thing is it which thus frowns gayety itself into silence ? — Black Maria ! — Is she some dark enchantress, on whose swart and sullen brow malignity sits enthroned ? — or is pesti- lence abroad, tangible and apparent? The " Black Maria" goes lumbering by. It is but a wagon, after all — a w^agon so mysteriously named — a w^agon, however, which is itself alone — not one of the great family of carts, with general similitudie and vast re- lationship, but an instrument of progression which has "no brother — is like no brother." It creaks no saluta- tion to wheeled cousins, as it wends its sulky way — it has no family ties to enable it to find kith and kin, more or less humble and more or less proud, in the long line of gradation, from the retiring wheelbarrow up to the haughty and obtrusive chariot. It is unique in form and purpose — it has a task which others are unfitted to en- counter, and it asks no help in the discharge of duties. It moves scornfully among hacks and cabs, while even the dray appears to regard it with a compound feeling of dread and disdain. It is, as w^e may say, a vehicular outcast, hated but yet feared — grand, gloomy and pecu- liar — a Byron among less gifted but more moral car- riages — tragedy amid the niceties of commonplace. Such is the social isolation of the "Black Maria." Even in its hour of repose — in its stabular retreats, the gig caresses THE BLACK MARIA. 27 it not, nor does the carriole embrace it within its shafts. The respectability of the stalls shrinks from contact with the " Black Maria," and its nights are passed in the open court-yard. Nor is it to be wondered at. The very physique of the "Black Maria" is repulsive, apart from the refinements of mere association. What is it — a cof- fin, rude but gigantic, travelling to and fro, between the undertaker and the sexton ? Why is it that the eye fails to penetrate its dark recesses ? No " sashes" adorn the person of the " Black Maria." Unlike all other vehicles, it has no apertures for light and air, save those openings beneath the roof, from which a haggard and uneasy glance flashes forth at intervals, or from which protrudes a hand waving, as it were, a last farewell to all that gives dehght to existence. Sternly and rigidly sits the guard in the rearward chamber, and beyond him is a door heavy with steel. It is no pleasure carriage then — it is not used as a means of recreation nor as a free-will conveyance, tra- velling at the guidance of those who rest within. No — they who take seats in the " Black Maria" feel no honour in their elevation — they ride neither for health nor amuse- ment. They neither say « drive on," nor designate the place of destination. If it were left to them, they would, in all likelihood, ask to be taken another way, and they would sooner trot on foot for ever, than to be thus raised above contact with mud and mire. They are not impa- tient either — they make no objection to the slowness of the gait. In short, they would like to get out and dismiss all cumbrous pomp and ceremonious attendance. But there are bars between — yes, bolts and bars, and there is nothing of coijaplaisance on the brow of him who has these iron fastenings at control. PoUte requests would be unheeded, and he has heard the curses of de- spair — the sobs of remorse — the bitter wailings of heart- broken wretchedness too often to be much moved by 28 THE PRISON VAN ; OR, solicitations such as these. Nor is he to be shaken by the fierce regards of hardened recklessness. Even the homicide may threaten — red murder itself may glower upon him with its fevered glare ; but there is neither ■weakness nor terror in the hard business-like deportment with w^hich he silences the exuberance of lacerated feel- mg. He is but a check-taker at the door, and cares naught about the play within. Tears may fall — convul- sive sorrow may rend the frame ; but what is that to him whose limited service it is to watch and ward — to keep them in and keep them out ? To weep is not his voca- tion, who sits at the door. He has no part in the drama, and is no more bound to suffer than they who snufT the candles for the stage. His emotions are for home con- sumption — his sympathies are elsewhere — left behind with his better coat and hat, and well it is so, or they would soon be torn to tatters — all — heart, cloth, and beaver. What, then, is this "Black Maria," so jocularly named, yet so sad in its attributes ? The progress of time brings new inventions — necessity leads to many devia- tions from the beaten track of custom, and the criminal, in earlier days dragged through crowded streets by the inexorable officers of the law, exposed to the scorn, derision or pity, as the case might be, of every spectator, now finds a preliminary dungeon awaiting him at the very portals of justice — a locomotive cell — a penitentiary upon wheels. He is incarcerated in advance, and he begins his probationary term at the steps of the court-house. Once there was an interval : " Some space between the theatre and grave ;" some breathing time from judge and jury to the jailer, — a space to be traversed, with the chances incident to a journey. Constables on foot are but flesh and blood, after all, and an adroit blow from a brawny thief has often laid them prostrate. A short quick evasion of the body THE BLACK MARIA. 29 has extricated the collar from many a muscular grasp, and once it was a thing of not unfrequent occurrence that the rogue flew down the street, diving into all sorts of in- terminable alleys, while panting tipstaves "toiled after him in vain." There were no cowardly, sneaking advantages taken then — enterprise was not cabined in a perambulating chicken-coop — valour had room to swing its elbow, and some opportunity to trip up the heels of the law. But as things are at present managed, a man is in prison as he traverses the city — in prison, with but a plank between him and the moving concourse of the free — in prison, while the horses start at the crack of the whip — in prison, as he whirls around the corner — in pri- son, yet moving from place to place — jolted in prison — • perhaps upset in prison. He hears the voices of the people — the din of traffic — the clamours of trade — the very dogs run barking after him, and he is jarred by rough collisions ; but still he is in prison — more painfully in prison, by the bitterness of intruding contrast, than if he were immured beyond all reach of exterior sound ; and when the huge gates of his place of destination creak upon their hinges, to the harsh rattling of the keeper's key, the captive, it may be, rejoices that the busy world is no longer about him, mocking his wretchedness w^ith its cheerful hum. If it were in accordance with the spirit of the age to refine upon punishment and to seek aggravation for misery, the "Black Maria" would perhaps furnish a hint that the pang might be rendered sharper, by secluding the felon from liberty by the most minute interval — that freedom might be heard, yet not seen — as the music of the ball-room fitfally reaches the chamber of disease and suffering — that he might be in the deepest shadow, yet know that light is beaming close around him ; in the cen- tre of action, yet deprived of its excitements — isolated in 30 THE PRISON van; or, the midst of multitudes — almost jostled by an invisible concourse — dead yet living — a sentient corpse. It is not then to be marvelled at that the " Black Maria" causes a sensation by her ominous presence — that labour rests from toil when the sound of her wheels is heard — that the youthful shrink and the old look sad, as she passes by. Nor is it strange that even when empty she is encircled by a curious but meditative crowd, scan- ning the horses with a degree of reverential attention which unofficial horses, though they were Barbary cours- ers or Andalusian steeds, might vainly hope to excite. The very harness is regarded with trepidation, and the dri- ver is respectfully scrutinized from head to foot, as if he were something more or less than man ; and if the guard does but carelessly move his foot, the throng give back lest they should unwittingly interfere with one who is looked upon as the ultimatum of criminal justice. Should the fatal entrance be left unclosed, see how the observant spectator manoeuvres to obtain a knowledge of its inte- rior, without approaching too closely, as if he laboured under an apprehension that the hungry creature would yawn and swallow him, as it has swallowed so many^ body, boots, and reputation. Now, he walks slowly to the left hand, that he may become acquainted with every particular of the internal economy afforded by that point of view. Again, he diverges to the right, on another quest for information. Do not be surprised, if he were also to "squat," and from that graceful posture glance upwards to ascertain the condition of the flooring, or sidle about to note the style of the lynch-pins. A mysterious interest envelopes the " Black Maria ;" every feature about her receives its comment — she has not a lineamenv which is not honoured by a daily perusal from the public. She is the minister of justice — the great avenger — the receptacle into which crime is almost sure to fall, and as " Here comes one-a woman-traces of comeliness still linger even amid the more enduring marks of sin, poverty, and sorrow.''— Book III, 2x1 ge 32. THE BLACK MARIA. 31 she conveys the prisoner to trial or bears him to the fulfil- ment of sentence, she is still the inspirer of terror. There may be some, no doubt — perhaps there may be many — who have forebodings at her approach, and tremble as she passes, with an anticipation of such a ride for them- selves. Could upbraiding conscience come more fearfully than in this " Black Maria's" shape, or could the sleep- ing sinner have compunctious visitings more terrible thar. the dream in which he imagines himself handed into this penitential omnibus, as an atonement for past offences ? What, let us ask, can be more appalling than the " Black Maria" of a guilty mind ? It is a matter of regret that history must be the work of human hands — that the quill must be driven to pre- serve a record of the past, and that inanimate objects — cold, passionless, and impartial witnesses — are not gifted with memory and speech. Much has been done — a long array of successive centuries have fidgeted and fumed ; but, after all, it is little we know of the action of those who have gone before. But if a jacket now were capa- ble of talk, then there would be biography in earnest. We would all have our Boswells, better Boswells than Johnson's Boswell. A dilapidated coat might be the most venerable and impressive of moralists. Much could it recount of frailty, and the results of frailty, in those who have worn it ; furnishing sermons more potent than the polished compositions of the closet. Could each house narrate what it has known of every occupant, human nature might be more thoroughly understood than it is at present. What beacons might not every apart- ment set up, to warn us from the folly which made ship- wreck of our predecessors! Even the mirror, while flattering vanity, could tell, an it would, how beauty, gi'own wild with its own excess, fell into premature decay. Ho I ho ! how the old goblet would ring, as we 32 THE PRISON van; or, drain the sparkling draught, to think of the many such scenes of roaring jollity it has witnessed, and of the mul- titude of just such jovial fellows as are now carousing, it has sent to rest before their time, under the pretence of making them merry ! Wine, ho ! let the bottle speak. Your bottle has its experiences — a decanter has seen the world. Thou tattered robe — once fine, but now de- cayed — nobility in ruins — how sourly thou smilest to dis- course of the fall from drawing-roorns to pawn-brokers' recesses. What a history is thine — feeble art thou — very thin and threadbare ; still thou hast seen more of weak- ness, ay, in men and women too, than is now displayed in thine own ruin. Yea, cobble those boots for sooterkin — they are agape, indeed ; yet were once thought fit or- naments for the foot of fashion. Leathern patchwork, thou hast been in strange places in thy time, or we are much mistaken. Come, thy many mouths are open, and thy complexion scarce admits of blushing — tell us about thy furtive wanderings. Let then this " Black Maria" wag her tongue — for tongue she has, and something of the longest — and she would chatter fast enough, I warrant me. Let us regard her as a magazine of memoirs — a whole library of per- sonal detail, and as her prisoners descend the steps, let us gather a leaf or two. Here comes one — a woman — traces of comeliness stil^ linger even amid the more enduring marks of sin, poverty, and sorrow. Her story has been told before, in thousands of instances, and it will be told again and again and again There is not much that is new in the downward career of those who fall. It is an old routine. Giddiness, folly, and deception, it may be, at the outset — remorse, misery, and early death, at the close. Yes, yes — the old father was humble in his ploddings — the mother had no aspir- ings above her sphere ; but she who now is weeping bitter THE BLACK MARIA. 33 tears, she longed for silks and satins and gay company. It was but a cracked and crooked looking-glass that told her she was beautiful, but its pleasing tale was easily be- lieved — for perfumed youths endorsed its truth, and whis- pered Fanny that she was worthy of a higher lot than that of toiling the humble wife of dingy labour. Those secret meetings — those long walks by moonlight — those stories of soft affection, and those brilliant hopes! Day by day home grew more distasteful — its recurring cares more wearying — the slightest rebuke more harsh, and Fanny fled. That home is desolate now. The old father is dead, the mother dependent upon charity, and the daugh- ter is here, the companion of felons, if not a felon herself. Another! — that dogged look, man, scarcely hides the wretchedness within. You may, if it seems best before these idle starers, assume the mask of sullen fierceness. " Who cares," is all well enough, indeed, but still the thought travels back to days of innocence and happiness. You set out in the pursuit of pleasure and enjoyment, but it has come to this at last ; all your frolickings and drink- ings — your feastings, your ridings, and your gamblings. You were trusted once, I hear — your wife and children were happy around you. But you were not content. There were chances to grow rich rapidly — to enjoy a luxurious ease all your life, and to compass these you were false to your trust. Shame and disgrace ensued ; dissipation environed your footsteps, and more daring vice soon followed. It is a short step from the doings of the swindler to the desperate acts of the burglar or the coun- terfeiter. You, at least, have found it so. Well, glare sternly about you — turn upon the spectators with the bitter smile of defiance. It will be different anon, in hopeless solitude — the past strewed with the wreck cf reputation — the future all sterility. Here is one who had a golden infancy. Where m.9 147 34 THE PRISON van; or, there a child more beautiful than he ? No wonder his parents thought no cost too great for his adornment. Who can be surprised that caresses were lavished upon the darling, and that his tender years knew no restraint. But it was a strange return in after time, that he should break his mother's heart — plunder his father, and become an outcast in the lowest haunts of vice. Were the graces of Apollo bestowed for such a purpose ? This fellow, now, was destroyed by too much severity. His childhood was manacled by control. Innocent plea- sures were denied — his slightest faults were roundly punished — there was no indulgence. He was to be scourged into a virtuous life, and, therefore, falsehood and deceit became habitual — yes, even before he knew they were falsehood and deceit ; but that knowledge did not much startle him, when the alternative was a lie or the lash. Had the cords of authority been slackened a little, this man might have been saved ; but while the process of whipping into goodness was going on, he paid a final visit to the treasury and disappeared. Being acquainted with no other principle of moral government than that of fear and coercion, he continues to practise upon it, and helps himself whenever the opportunity seems to present itself of doing so w'ith no pressing danger of disagreeable consequences. Mistakes, of course, are incident to his mode of life. Blunders will occur, and, in this way, the gentleman has had the plea- sure of several rides in the " Black Maria." Here is an individual, who was a " good fellow," — the prince of good fellows — a most excellent heart — so much heart, indeed, that it filled not only his bosom, but his head also, leaving scant room for other furniture. He never said " no" in his life, and invariably took advice when it came from the wrong quarter. He was always so much afraid that people would be offended, if THE BLACK MARIA. 35 he happened not to agree with them, that he forgot all about his own individual responsibility, and seemed to think that he was an appendage and nothing more. Dicky Facile, at one time, had a faint consciousness of the fact, when he had taken wine enough, and would say, " No, I thank you," if requested to mend his draught. But if it were urged, " Pooh ! nonsense ! a little more won't hurt you," he would reply, " Won't it, indeed ?" and recollect nothing from that time till he woke next day in a fever. Dicky lent John his employer's cash, because he loved to accommodate ; and finally obliged the same John by imitating his employer's signature, because John promised to make it all right in good time ; but John was oblivious. The " Black Maria" has a voluminous budget, — she could talk all day without pausing to take breath. She could show how one of her passengers reached his seat by means of his vocal accomplishments, and went mu- sically to destruction, like the swan — how another had such curly hair that admiration was the death of him — how another was so fond of being jolly that he never paused until he became sad — how another loved horses until they threw him, or had a taste for elevated associations until he fell by climbing — how easily, in fact, the excess of a virtue leads into a vice, so that generosity declines into wastefulness, spirit roughens into brutality, social tendencies melt into debauchery, and complaisance opens the road to crime. We are poor creatures all, at the best, and perhaps it would not be amiss to look into ourselves a little before we entertain hard thou2:hts of those who chance to ride in the "Black Maria;" for, as an ex-driver of that respectable caravan used to observe, " there are, I guess, about two sorts of people in this world — them that's found out, and them that ain't found out — them that gets into the « Black Mara,' and them 36 THE BLACK MARIA. that don't happen to be cotch'd. People that are cotch'd, has to ketch it, of course, or else how would the 'iishal folks — me and the judges and the lawyers — yes, and the chaps that make the laws and sell the law books — make out to get a livin'? But, on the general principle, this argufies nothin'. Being cotch'd makes no great difference, only in the looks of things; and it hap- pens often enough, I guess, that the wirchis looking gen- tleman who turns up his nose at folks, when the consta- ble's got 'em, is only wirchis because he hasn't been found out. That's my notion." And not a bad notion either, most philosophic Swizzle, only for the fault of your class — a little too much of gene- ralization. Your theory, perhaps, is too trenchant — too horizontal in its line of division. But it too often happens that the worst of people are not those who take the air in the «' Black Maria." Still, however, you that dwell in cities, let not this moral rumble by in vain. Wisdom follows on vour footsteps, drawn by horses. Experience is wagoned through the streets, and though your temptations be many, while danger seems afar off, yet the catastrophe of your aberrations is prophetically before the eye, creaking and groaning on its four ungainly wheels. The very whip cracks a warning, and the whole vehicle displays itself as a travel] ing caution to all who are prone to sin. It is good for those who stand, to take heed lest they fall. But we have an addition here which should be even more impressive, in these times of stirring emulation. Take heed, lest in your haste to pluck the flowers of life without due labour in the field, you chance to encounter, not a fall alone, but such a ride as it has been our en- c^eavour to describe — a ride in the "Black Maria." SLYDER DOWNEHYLLE. A SEiRCH AFTEB HAFPIKESS. <«How happy I'll be to-morrow!" exclaimed little Sly- der Downehylle, in anticipation of Christmas; "oh, how happy I shall be to-morrow!" " Couldn't you contrive to be happy a little now ?" replied Uncle John, who had learned somewhat to dis- trust anticipation and its gorgeous promises. " Happy now, Uncle John !" retorted little Slyder Downehylle, rather contemptuously, " happy now ! — what with, I should like to know — what shall I be happy with — now? Where's the candy, the cakes, the pies — where is the hobby-horse that somebody's going to give me — and all the Christmas gifts? How I wish to-mor- row had come-^w^hat a long day^what a long evening — what a great while I've got to sleep !" Litde Slyder Downehylle became quite cross, and Uncle John whistled. Twenty-four hours afterward, little Slyder Downehylle was still more cross — he had been happy with candy, with cakes and with pies, until he was very uncomfortable indeed ; he had been happy with toys, until he had quarrelled with his little companions and strewed the room with broken playthings ; he had been happy with his hobby-horse, until he got a fall. "Oh, what a stupid day!" said little Slyder Downe- hylle, "I wish to-morrow would come — I'll be so happy at Aunt Betsy's." It is unnecessary to intrude at Aunt Betsy's, for the events there were of a character strongly resembling what had already occurred. Little Slyder Downehylle went to bed in tears. 37 38 SLYDER DOWNEHYLLE. It was always so with the unfortunate Slyder Downe- hylle. Throughout Hfe, he wanted something to be happy with ; and strangely enough, it universally occurred that when he had obtained the thing, it did not prove to be exactly the thing he wanted. His expectations were never realized, and he was, therefore, constantly in a state of disappointment. Unlucky Slyder Downehylle! It was deplorable too that such should be the case, for Slyder Downehylle was anxious to be happy — he was always looking forward to be happy — for something " to be happy with." He never got up in the morning but that it was his resolve to be happy in the afternoon — and, if not suc- cessful in accomplishing his purpose at that time, he en- deavoured, as far as possible, to retrieve the failure by form- ing a similar determination for the evening. No one ever had a greater variety of schemes for living happy — very happy — than he ; for living happy next week, for living happy next month, or next year ; but it appeared to him that a malignant fate was sure to interfere, in order that his p.rojects might be frustrated. At school, he was always thinking how happy he would be on Saturday afternoon; but then sometimes it rained on Saturday afternoon, or his companions would not do as he wished them to do on Saturday afternoon, or it may be that, although he had toiled hard for pleasure on Saturday after- noon, and the toil for pleasure is often the severest of work, he returned home weary, dispirited, and out of temper. Of course, it was unavoidable that his pleasure should be postponed until some other Saturday afternoon. And it was even so with the larger holidays. They never were exactly what they ought to have been — what they promised to be — what they seemed to be, when viewed from a distance. If Slyder Downehylle went a- fishing, why a treacherous bank would often give way, and then — pray, who can possibly be happy when drip- SLYDER DOWNEHYLLE. 39 ping wet, with his clothes on? Nobody but poodles. What felicity is there in losing one's shoe in a swamp ? Who is perfectly happy when scouring across the plain, like "swift Camilla," with old Jenkins' big dog — that dog always bites — rustic dogs do — following close at his heels, widely opening a mouth which shows no need of the dentist ? Then, if Slyder Downehylle went skat- ing, it not unfrequently happened that he cried with cold, — what a strange arrangement it is not to have the best of skating on the warmest days ! At other seasons, there was the sun. It never rains but it pours, in this world. Is it happiness, think ye, to have one's dear little nose — incipient Roman, or determined pug, as the case may be — all of a blister, and to have one's delectable coun- tenance as red and as hot as a scarlet fever? "There's lime in the sack" — invariably, in Slyder Downehylle's sack — it would be easy to make mortar of it. The young Downehylle, finding that happiness eluded his grasp while a boy, made sure of throwing a noose over its head when he should be a man. What on earth is there to prevent a man's being happy, if he chooses — especially if a man has money, as was the case in the present instance. Uncle John and Aunt Betsy both being gathered to their fathers and mothers. May not a man do as he pleases ? — go to bed when he pleases, and get up when he pleases ? — eat what he pleases and drink what he pleases ? A man is not compelled to learn les- sons. All his afternoons are Saturday afternoons — his hoUdays last all the year round. Who would not be a man? «0h, when I am a man!" said Slyder Downe- hylle. " I wish I was a man !" exclaimed Slyder Downe- hylle. " I want to be a man !" cried Slyder Downehylle, with impatience. Sooner or later, at least in the eye of the law, most bovs become men, in despite of remonstrance. These 29 40 SLYDER DOWNEHYLLE. boys are remarkable for an upstart tendency, and the Downehylles themselves are not exempt from the pecu- liarity. So Slyder Downehylle was a man at last, though, on the whole, it must be confessed that he did not derive the satisfaction from it that he had been led to expect. * Slyder Downehylle was extended at full length upon a sofa. «I say, Spifflikens, what shall I be at? Fm twenty- one — I've got plenty of money — I'm as tired as thunder already — what shall I be at, Spifflikens ?" "Lend me a hundred, and buy yourself a buggy, — why don't you get a buggy, to begin with ?" "Yes, Spifflikens, I will. You're right — the Downe- hylles were alw^ays great on buggies, you know, Spiffli- kens." It was Slyder Downehylle's theory, after this conver- sation — for he often theorized — that happiness was, to some degree, vehicular ; that, like respectability, it was to be found in a gig, if it were to be found anywhere. He, therefore, bought him a sulky and a fast trotter — a mile in two minutes or thereabouts. What could escape a man who followed so rapidly ? If you wish to be suc- cessful in the pursuit of happiness, do not forget to buy a sulky — there's nothing like a sulky. " Aha ! — that's it !" muttered Slyder Downehylle, as he tugged at the reins, and went whizzing along the turn- pike in a cloud of dust, passing every thing on the road, and carrying consternation among the pigs, the ducks, and the chickens. Slyder thought that this was "it" for several consecu- tive days ; but as the novelty wore off — there's the rub— (that Hamlet was rather a sensible fellow — did he too keep a "fast trotter?") — Slyder was not so sure whether it was the thing exactly, and on the recommendation of SLYDER DOWNEHYLLE. 41 his friend Spifflikens, who borrowed another hundred o; i the occasion, he endeavoured to improve it a little by drinking champagne and playing billiards at the " Cot- tage." Fast trotters and champagne — fast trotters and biUiards harmonize very well. Under this combination, Slyder appeared to think that "it" was considerably more like the thing than before. He had found " some- thing to be happy with," at last, and so had Spifflikens. It was not, however, so difficult to make Spiffy a happy man, — only allow him to go ahead, and say nothing about '« returns." He hates any thing sombre — any thing "dun." "Now I'm happy," said Slyder Downehylle, as he stood on the portico of the " Cottage," and saw every eye fixed with admiration on his establishment, as the boy led his horse and sulky through the crowd of vehicles. "That's it, at last!" and he lighted another cigar and called for an additional bottle of iced champagne. " That's it, certainly," remarked Spifflikens, at the explosion of the cork. Slyder Downehylle was perfectly satisfied that this was indeed "it," for a considerable portion of the afternoon, and, to tell the truth, when he remounted his buggy, nodding his head to the bystanders, as he hung his coat- tails over the back of the vehicle, he was not a little " elevated." " There — let him go!" said he, tossing a half-dollar to the hostler's deputy. Mr. Downehylle's sulky flew like lightning across the lawn. " Splendid !" ejaculated the spectators. " Superiaw — fine!" added Spifflikens. The dogs barked — the coloured gentlemen, who offici- ated as waiters, grinned from ear to ear. — There was quite a sensation at the " Cottage." 42 SLYDER DOWNEHYLLE. "That's it, at last!" said Slyder Downehylle, trium- phantly. But he forgot that existence, short as it is, can- not be crowded all into the exhilarating moment of a " start." Life is not to be distilled and condensed in this way, though his life seemed to come as near it as possi- ble, on the occasion referred to. Why are we made ambitious ? Why will we endea- vour to jump over puddles that are too wide, when we so often miss immortality by no more than a hair's breadth ? But " touch and go" is the secret of great enterprises. Slyder Downehylle was struck with a de- sire to sublimate the sublime — to " o'ertop old Pelion," and old Pelion, as it was natural he should, resented the insult. Downehylle was allowed to "touch" — we often do that — but there was a veto on his " go." He wished to shave the gate-post, in his curricular enthusi- asm — to astonish the natives with his charioteering skill. Yet the poplars might have reminded him of Phaeton — of Phaeton's sisters weeping, lank and long. It certainly was the champagne — that last bottle, so well iced. Mr. Downehylle was out in his calculation by about the sixteenth part of an inch. He was on a lee-shore. A cloud of splinters went up and came down again. <» There is but a Frenchman the more in France," said a Bourbon on the Restoration. It was also quite evident that there was a sulky the less in existence. As this could not be considered the " fast trotter's" business — he having no further concern with the matter than to do a certain number of miles in a specific number of mi- nutes — he, therefore, went straight on to fulfil his part of the contract, and it is to be presumed that he was success- ful, as nothing has been heard from him since. another. All who introduced refinements in the ajipli cation of the axe — that most aristocratic of executive 36 152 JACK spratte's revenge. instruments — have themselves been subjected to a differ- ent process of " shortening" from any set down in Miss LesUe's "Domestic Cookery;" and probably the inventor of solitary confinement and the " Pennsylvania system of prison discipline," was she of the " misdeto bough" — the identical lady of the « old oak chest." The retributive principle goes even further than this. There are retri- butive husbands and retributive wives — such, at least, do they seem to be — whose office appears to consist in being a penance for previous jiltings, previous flirtations, and antecedent insults of all kinds, to the blind little gentle- man who primitively sports with bow and arrow, disdain- ing recourse to the use of fire-arms. In this sense, Mr. Brownstout was a retribution — a retribution for all the past offences of Miss Felicia Phinney. He had been ambushed far onward in her course through time ; so that when she thought the past forgotten, and when she had measurably forgotten the past, the retributive hus- band might, like a steel trap, be sprung upon her. Whether Brow^nstout — Mr. Brownstout — had been cre- ated and trained for this especial purpose, does not appear. He was but a little fellow, it is true — in this respect, his person and his name were in evident contradiction to each other; but he was an ample sufficiency to bring about the purposes for which he was intended. There is, they say, such a thing as love at first sight — an instantaneous attack, resembling somewhat the unex- pected assault of cholera, in Calcutta or thereabouts, where the victim, doubled up, at once falls to the ground. This spontaneous combustion is not perhaps so frequent in modern days, as when the world was younger. Time and change, atmospherical or otherwise, modify all disorders, and by these influences, love, like the lightning, has, to a considerable extent, fallen under the control of science, and has ceased to be so ras}>, sudden, and explosive as it JACK spratte's revenge. 153 was ; while the actual cases do not exhibit symptoms so imminent and dangerous. Young gentlemen now-a-days are not nearly so apt, according to the popular phrase, to be " struck all of a heap," as their grandfathers and their paternal predecessors are represented to have been. The Fire- King thought little of remaining in the oven until the dinner was baked — a feat at which precedent ages would have looked aghast — but experiment has since proved that the generality of our kind are salamanders to the same extent, and a similar truth appears to have been demonstrated, as to the capacity existing in the present era, to withstand the fire of the brightest eyes that ever beamed from a side-box at the opera. Who ever hears that Orlando has shot himself for love with a percussion pistol, or with one of your six barrelled, repeating deto- nators ? No — that fashion expired before the flint locjc was superseded, and when the steam engine came roaring along, the lover ceased to sigh, — instead of suffering himself to be pale and disheveled, he looks in the mir- ror and brushes his whiskers; and, as hearts are not knocked about so violently as they were at the period of small swords and chapeaus, it follows as a natural conse- quence, that they are very rarely broken past repair. Miss Fehcia Phinney, it may be, from having so long evaded the " soft impeachment," was finally afflicted somewhat after the fashion of our ancestors. Her consti- tution, not being accustomed — perhaps we should say seasoned — to such shocks, "took it hard." An indi- vidual of her <•<■ timber" could not be expected to " pine ;" but when Mr. Brownstout first insinuatingly and delicately asked the price of a shad — in those very tones which cause lovers' words to sound " so silver sweet by night" — she felt that her hour had come — and that her " un- housed free condition must be put in circumscription and confine." Whether she was affected by the force of 154 JACK spratte's revenge. contrast, in joining which, as Mr. Sheridan Knowles has taken occasion to remark, <,, i-ji