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 LEAVES: 
 
 BEING A COLLECTION OF PIECES WRITTEN 
 FOR PUBLIC READING. 
 
 liY 
 
 EDWARD F. TURNER, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "tANTLEr's SISTER " AND "MORE T LEAVES." 
 
 FIFTH EDITION. 
 
 LONDON: 
 SMITH, ELDER, & CO., 15 WATERLOO PLACE. 
 
 1 888.
 
 •BaSanfgne ■press 
 
 BALLANTVNE, HANSON AND CO. 
 EDINBURGH AND LONDON
 
 TSrt 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGB 
 
 Mr. Piper's Mittens ...... i 
 
 Mrs. Paggleby's Juvenile Party ... 7 
 
 A Strike; and what came of it . . . . iS 
 
 Letitia's Gooseberry 25 
 
 How Mr. Smiggles went to a Public Dinner . 33 
 
 Underground Jottings . . . . . 41 
 
 Our Debating Club 48 
 
 Mrs. Moleby's Fritters 58 
 
 Solomon Popkins 65 
 
 On the ioth instant 74 
 
 Twelve Inside and Fourteen Out . . .84 
 
 Mr. Smith's Brief ...... 90 
 
 Shakespeare on Hoard ..... 99 
 
 Miss Wiffix's Birthday Presents . . . io6 
 
 My Old Overcoat 116 
 
 My First and Last Appearance . . . \zz
 
 iv CONTENTS. 
 
 TACK 
 
 The Autobiography of an Umbrella . . .130 
 Sniffy Toodlekins ; or, All but a Tragedy . 142 
 
 Under the Surface 151 
 
 Nobbs's Mystery 162 
 
 Captain Fitz- Wallace's Speculation . . .172 
 Jack Linton's Stratagem 185
 
 MR. PIPER'S MITTENS. 
 
 It 7uas cold that New Year's Day. The people in the 
 streets looked as they only can look when Jack Frost, 
 Esq., is at work. All the noses which were not red were 
 blue, saving a select few (mostly Romans and Grecians), 
 which were purple. Teeth held long conversations with- 
 out any sort of reference to the wishes of their owners. 
 Fingers and toes were either aching acutely, or else in- 
 dulging in all known varieties of pins and needles, or else 
 perfectly devoid of any feeling whatever. Breath issued 
 out of mouths in clouds of steam until one might have 
 fancied that all the boilers and steam-engines in London 
 had assumed a human shape and gone out for a holiday. 
 
 Marvellous garments and head-coverings were brought 
 into requisition ; astounding fur caps — stupendous coats — 
 gloves that nobody could possibly have shaken hands in — 
 comforters that appeared to wind round and round and 
 round, and to have no perceptible beginning or end. The 
 thermometer was falling fast, and so were the foot-pas- 
 sengers, for the pavement was covered with a coagulated 
 mixture of frozen mud and snow as hard as iron and slip- 
 pery as glass. 
 
 Verily it 7vas cold, and no one was more thoroughly 
 persuaded of the fact than was Mr. Piper as he walked and 
 ran, and slipped and stumbled along on his way to the City
 
 2 MR. PIPER'S MITTENS. 
 
 as best he might. There was no appearance of poverty 
 about Mr. Piper, but his throat was fully exposed to the 
 biting wind, and his hands were innocent of all covering 
 except a pair of thin kid gloves, through divers rents in 
 which his half-frozen fingers protruded visibly and most 
 unwillingly. And there was generally about him an in- 
 describable air of neglect, a want of being, as it were, 
 finished off, which would have caused any person of dis- 
 cernment to say in a moment, " That man has no one to 
 look after him at home." 
 
 Nor had he ; for he was a widower, and his only child, 
 a daughter, was for all practical purposes dead to him. 
 She had married secretly, and very imprudently, a young 
 gentleman with light-blue eyes and little fluffy whiskers, 
 and whose means were even smaller than his whiskers. 
 i\Ir. Piper had all along set his face against the match, and 
 when one evening after he had got home the young couple 
 appeared before him, and went down on their knees, by 
 a preconceived movement, with the intention of reciting 
 a carefully-prepared petition (not a word of which they 
 could recollect at the critical moment) — I say when this 
 happened he had turned both of them out of the house in 
 a fury, and had vowed that he would never see their faces 
 more. Every avenue of Mr. Piper's heart had been locked 
 tight against the luckless couple. The front door had 
 been, so to speak, fastened, the bolts drawn, and the chain 
 put up. Nay, even the letter-box had been sealed, for 
 showers of epistles had remained unanswered, if not even 
 unopened. And now on this particular morning, as he 
 walked along, Mr. Piper said aloud with a most determined 
 air, " I won't." And when he said " I won't," he didn't
 
 MR. PIPER'S MITTENS. ^ 
 
 mean that he wouldn't fall down, because he fell several 
 times, and generally immediately after he said it ; but what 
 he did mean was, that he would not open a fat little parcel 
 which was in his pocket, and to which his hand occasionally 
 glided as if involuntarily. And it was when his hand had 
 got hold of it that he said " I won't," and then, as I before 
 observed, he generally tumbled down. 
 
 Now, the little fat parcel had come by the post that 
 morning, and the direction on it was written in a female 
 hand well known to Mr. Piper, who, when he saw it on 
 the table, uttered an expression which is generally spelt 
 " psha " in books, but which it is difficult to reproduce on 
 paper without suggesting to the reader an abortive effort 
 to sneeze dismally. And then, I regret to say, he threw 
 it on the floor. 
 
 The little parcel went down in a saucy, unconcerned 
 sort of way, and lay on the carpet in full view of Mr. Piper, 
 as he sat at breakfast. And the funny thing was, that 
 whenever he took his eyes off it, they always went back 
 again with a furtive, inquisitive look. 
 
 " What is it ? " said Mr. Piper, soliloquising. " It can't 
 be a letter. She could never have written all f/iaf. But 
 it does not matter what it is, I 7i:>on'^ open it." 
 
 It was rather a singular circumstance that he should 
 pick up the little parcel and stow it away in his pocket 
 almost immediately after saying this ; and more singular 
 still, that as he struggled along in the cold afterwards (still 
 with the parcel in his pocket) he should think it necessary 
 to say, " I won't," so often and with so much determination, 
 as if, indeed, somebody else kept saying, " Yes, you will ; " 
 whereas, he was absolutely alone and free to make any
 
 4 MR. PIPER'S MITTENS. 
 
 remark he pleased, without the least fear of contradiction. 
 However, Mr. Piper got to business at last, with the parcel 
 still unopened ; but again and again during the day his 
 thoughts reverted to it, and just before he started to go 
 out in the cold that evening he took it out of his pocket 
 and began to turn it over and over, as if it were a hot 
 potato, and he could not make up his mind where to take 
 the first bite. 
 
 " After all, I may as well see what is inside it," said he 
 at last, and he tore it open. A slip of paper with writing on 
 it fell out and fluttered to the ground, and inside the parcel, 
 exposed to view, was one of the neatest, nattiest, cosiest, 
 warmest pairs of woollen mittens that ever you did see. 
 
 Mr. Piper looked at them in amazement for a few 
 moments, and then he stooped down and picked up the 
 slip of paper. 
 
 " For my dear father. A New Year's gift from the sorrow- 
 ful, repentant little girl that he used to love." 
 
 He read these words slowly, and then he tried to read 
 them again ; but he could not manage it the second time 
 because there was some water in his eyes. Eyes do water 
 in cold weather ; and Mr. Piper was standing in a draught. 
 
 Then he appeared to be lost in reflection ; so lost, in- 
 deed, that he slowly put the mittens on over his cold hands 
 and wrists, and placed the slip of paper carefully in an inner 
 pocket. And with that off he started home. 
 
 " For my dear father. A New Year's gift from the sorrow- 
 ful, repentant little girl that he used to love." 
 
 How these words kept ringing in his ears ! And how 
 his eyes did water from the cold, to be sure. 
 
 Mr. Piper was in such an absent state of mind when he
 
 MR. PIPER'S MITTENS. 5 
 
 sat down to dinner that evening that he quite forgot to 
 take off the mittens, and instead of eating, he kept looking 
 at them, and pulling out the slip of paper and putting it 
 back again ; and he did not even hear a timid footstep, 
 which glided into the room and softly approached the 
 back of his chair. 
 
 But he did hear voices sounding in the air — voices 
 which spoke of love and pity and forgiveness. And he did 
 see visions — visions of a child, once the darling of his 
 heart, but banished from it for one heedless act of dis- 
 obedience ; visions of that child as she used to be in the 
 happy days gone by ; visions of that same child, sorrow- 
 ful, repentant, pleading these six weary months past for his 
 forgiveness; but in vain. 
 
 "For my dear father," he murmured once more. "A 
 New Year's gift from " 
 
 " From me, father ; from your wicked, disobedient girl, 
 who begs for your pardon and longs to win back your 
 love ! " cries a voice close to him, and two arms are 
 thrown round his neck, and soon his child is sobbing on 
 his bosom, while the blessed peace of the forgiver and 
 the forgiven falls upon them and consecrates their recon- 
 ciliation. 
 
 The young man with light-blue eyes and little fluffy 
 whiskers had been surreptitiously waiting outside the door 
 in a state of profound trepidation ; but soon he was con- 
 ducted in triumph into the room, whereupon he instantly 
 went down on his knees before Mr. Piper, and, although he 
 was forcibly hauled up and violently shaken hands with, it 
 was observable of that young man that he could not all the 
 evening quite get over a fixed impression that it was his
 
 6 MR. PIPER'S MITTENS. 
 
 bounden and imperative duty to place himself in a pos- 
 ture of supplication towards Mr. Piper, and that he at inter- 
 vals relapsed into a sort of triangular attitude, from which 
 he was with some difficulty recalled. 
 
 Mr. Piper lives now with his daughter and her husband, 
 and he revels in mittens, knitted gloves, and every other 
 accessory to the comfort of an elderly gentleman that 
 the ingenuity of love can devise. But I have reason to 
 believe that a certain pair of mittens sent to him on a 
 certain New Year's Day are secretly regarded by him as 
 possessing properties of warmth and beauty not to be 
 equalled by any other pair of mittens ever yet made.
 
 r 
 
 7 ) 
 
 MRS. PAGGLEBY'S JUVENILE PARTY. 
 
 There was bustle and animation everywhere in the 
 Paggleby's abode on the evening of that Juvenile Party — 
 so much bustle and animation, in fact, that Mr. Paggleby, 
 who was a nervous man, took himself off to his club at 
 the precise moment when the drawing-room sofa was being 
 placed on the top of his study table, and did not return 
 until ten o'clock, when he took his boots off in the hall 
 and crept upstairs to his bed in a general state of uncer- 
 tainty as to where he was likely to find it. 
 
 A casual and thoughtless observer, looking in at 5.30 
 P.M., might have supposed from the confusion which pre- 
 vailed that there was an execution in the house. But had 
 he taken one peep into the drawing-room at 7 p.m., oh ! 
 how different would have been his opinion ! 
 
 For there sat Mrs. Paggleby and the youthful Pagglebys, 
 awaiting their guests. Mrs. Paggleby had on a silk dress, 
 cut with a " V " bodice, and adorned in such a bewildering 
 manner that the difficulty of finding out where the trim- 
 ming really started from was a task which might have 
 compared favourably with the discovery of the source of 
 the Nile. Then there were the two eldest Masters Paggle- 
 by, in velveteen knickerbockers and white silk stockings. 
 The two eldest Masters Paggleby were twins, and they were 
 born on the iSth of June; so, in commemoration of the 
 great event which happened on that date, Mrs. Paggleby
 
 8 MRS. PAGGLEBY'S JUVENILE PARTY. 
 
 had christened them respectively Wellington Waterloo and 
 Napoleon Bonaparte. As they were now twelve years old, 
 and they had fought daily during the whole of that period, 
 the names were, in more than one respect, appropriate. 
 
 Besides these young gentlemen — who were pummelling 
 each other furiously on a rout seat, to the great distraction 
 of their mamma — there were three little Misses Paggleby, 
 dressed exactly alike, in three litde white muslin dresses, 
 with three little blue sashes, and whose three little frizzled 
 heads were tied round with three little bits of blue ribbon — 
 and who had three little one-and-ninepenny aluminium 
 lockets fastened round three little necks with three more 
 little bits of blue ribbon. 
 
 Lastly, there was the smallest Paggleby of the lot, a most 
 audacious child of five, familiarly named Toodles, as to 
 whom it had been purposed that he should, at the precise 
 moment of which I speak, have been in bed, fast asleep; 
 but who, disdaining all artifice, had flatly declined to allow 
 the removal of one single garment, and, after making 
 several most daring escapes from the nursery (with the 
 result of being discovered, on the last occasion, under the 
 dining-room table, surrounded by sponge cakes and other 
 delicacies abstracted from above), had ultimately undergone 
 a hasty washing and been let loose on society as an irre- 
 trievably bad character. 
 
 Suddenly there was heard a ring at the bell, and a loud 
 rat-tat-tat at the knocker, whereupon the three Masters 
 Paggleby and the three Misses Paggleby made an inconti- 
 nent rush at the stairs, and looked downwards through the 
 balusters in a state of wild expectation. The five elder 
 ones were content with a comparatively moderate inspec-
 
 MRS. PAGGLEBTS JUVENILE PARTY. 9 
 
 tion, but Toodles, in order to see what was going on to the 
 best possible advantage, pushed his head through up to a 
 certain point, and then got wedged in, insomuch that it 
 became necessary to pull him out backwards by his legs, in 
 a very crumpled-up and far from hilarious condition. 
 
 "It's Laura," whispered Amelia Paggleby, the eldest of 
 the three girls, speculatively, as the servant went to open 
 the door. 
 
 *' 'Tisn't ; it's Tom Jackson," answered WeUington 
 Waterloo. 
 
 Before any more guesses had been ventured the door 
 opened, and all the little Pagglebys, except Toodles (who 
 was compelled to remain, for the reason to which I have 
 already adverted), beat a reluctant retreat into the drawing- 
 room. 
 
 The first arrival turned out to be a convoy composed of 
 no less than eight fat children rejoicing in the name of 
 Lumpit. Regarded as a whole, the eight Lumpits were 
 very like organ-pipes ; for they were all round and exactly 
 alike ; each one, except the largest of all, was a little shorter 
 than the one that went before, and they made a prodigiously 
 loud noise out of comparatively small mouths and generally 
 at the same time. 
 
 Scarcely had the Lumpits been unpacked and conducted 
 upstairs, when clang went the bell and bang went the 
 knocker again, and for the next half-hour the guests came 
 pouring in, the last of them being Mrs. IMiffin and her little 
 boy, wliom she conducted to the scene in person. 
 
 Mrs. Miftin was a rather vulgar but very good-natured 
 lady, whose ancestors had, I believe, taken root originally 
 in the Old Kent Road — the reason for their doing so being
 
 lo MRS. PAGGLEBYS JUVENILE PARTY. 
 
 that they got into that interminable thoroughfare one day, 
 and became so exceedingly exhausted in trying lo reach 
 the other end that they were obliged to take a house in 
 the middle. But for some inscrutable reason Mrs. Miffin 
 affected to be Scotch. Her propensity took the outward 
 form of dressing up Master Miffin as if he were a Highland 
 chieftain who had shrunk in the wash, and of adorning her 
 own ample shoulders by throwing obliquely over them 
 from right to left a stupendous plaid not owned by any 
 particular clan with which I am acquainted. 
 
 Mrs. Miffin, like Mrs. Paggleby, had a great idea of ap- 
 propriate Christian names, and having adopted Scotland as 
 her nation, she determined not to do the thing by halves, so 
 she christened Master Miffin, Malcolm Stuart Ross Douglas. 
 It had been said by a malicious person that, but for the 
 clergyman's inability to take in any more, the infant Miffin 
 would have returned from baptism as Malcolm Stuart 
 Ross Douglas Scots- Wha-Hae-Wi'-Wallace-B led Miffin— but 
 I believe that to have been a libel. 
 
 The arrival of the last guest was the signal for the appear- 
 ance at the drawing-room door of Mary Jane, the parlour 
 maid, very smartly and cherry-coloured-ribbonly got up as 
 to her costume, and with a face that shone like unto the 
 morning sun from circumstances not altogether uncon- 
 nected with yellow soap. 
 
 Mary Jane's mission was to announce that tea was ready, 
 but the remark was fated not to fall from her lips, for the 
 instant she appeared Wellington and Napoleon, forgetful 
 of all the lessons of politeness which Mrs. Paggleby had 
 impressed upon them in the morning, shouted out, "Tea's 
 ready, IMar, come along," and made a sally past Mary
 
 ■MRS. PAGGLEBTS JUVENILE PARTY. ii 
 
 Jane in the direction of the dining-room. And such excel- 
 lent use did they make of this temporary advantage, that 
 by the time Mrs. Paggleby had reached the tea-table, the 
 two young gentlemen had secured for themselves the very 
 best seats, and had made considerable havoc with the 
 muffins. But the principal features at the tea-table were 
 the eight Lumpits, whose capacities for containing food 
 seemed to defy all ordinary calculations of a given quantity 
 of internal space ; and of whom it was to be observed that 
 when everybody else had finished they still lingered at the 
 table, and were with difficulty constrained to depart. As 
 for Toodlcs, he plied a brisk guerilla warfare and seized 
 plunder whenever the opportunity presented itself. 
 
 Wellington and Napoleon having fallen to at the tea to 
 their entire satisfaction, proceeded, as was their wont, to 
 fall to at each other, and as the largest Lumpit boy was 
 between them, and they hit out without the smallest refer- 
 ence to that trifling circumstance, I may say that on the 
 whole the largest Lumpit boy did not come off a gainer by 
 their proceedings. But the combat was, fortunately for 
 that personage, of brief duration, for the idea suddenly 
 seized both Wellington and Napoleon that by this time the 
 conjuror had probably arrived, and this circumstance im- 
 pelled them to cease hostilities and make another rush back 
 to the drawing-room, where, when the rest of the party 
 ascended, they were discovered rummaging about among 
 the conjuror's appurtenances, to his great discomfort and 
 speechless indignation. 
 
 In the meantime, and while tea had been going on, the 
 rout seats and chairs had been arranged in rows to face the 
 conjuror, and after a good deal of pushing and elbowing (in
 
 12 MRS. PAGGLEDY'S JUVENILE PARTY. 
 
 the course of which Mrs. Miffin was nearly doubled up by 
 a charge from Napoleon Bonaparte, while Toodles sat com- 
 posedly on a tempting Lumpit), the audience settled down 
 in a state of whispering excitement. 
 
 Suddenly Wellington shouted out — 
 
 "Mar!" 
 
 "Well, my dear?" 
 
 " Tom Jackson says their conjuror always wears spangles 
 and a grand dress, and he s'poses this man doesn't 'cos he 
 isn't paid enough." 
 
 Mrs. Paggleby immediately became engaged in a most 
 interesting conversation with Mrs. Miffin, and pretended 
 not to hear, but again a voice broke on the air — a much 
 smaller voice — 
 
 " Ma-ar ! " 
 
 "Well, Toodles, what is it?" 
 
 " I may stay up for supper, mayn't I ? 'cos Napoleon says 
 I mustn't, and he says you said we mustn't take any negus 
 or lemonade, as there wouldn't be enough if we did, as the 
 Lumpits always eat and drink enough for twenty." 
 
 A violent spasm of coughing was the only resource left to 
 ]\Irs. Paggleby at this dreadful moment, but a diversion was 
 created, to her immense relief, by the conjuror. 
 
 I have no recollection that anything worthy of note 
 occurred during his performance, and I imagine, therefore, 
 that he kept Mrs. Paggleby's little guests in a state of con- 
 centrated attention, for which they made up by the tumul- 
 tuous noise and confusion which prevailed while the rout 
 seats were being cleared away afterwards. 
 
 The conjuror was followed by a quadrille, and the quad- 
 rille by a polka, in both of which dances the little Misses
 
 MRS. PAGGLEBTS JUVENILE PARTY. 13 
 
 Paggleby showed to great advantage, by reason of their 
 having had lessons at school, if you please, for which Mrs. 
 Paggleby paid extra, if you please. And then, when the 
 polka was over, Mrs. Miffin, who had been looking on in a 
 state of obvious impatience, and, as it were, champing at 
 the bit, went across the room to Mrs. Paggleby. 
 
 "If you want a little assistance, dear Mrs. Paggleby, 
 to amuse the young people, my Malcolm can dance the 
 real Scotch 'Ighland Fling fine, and the Henglish 'Ornpipe 
 also." 
 
 " Can he, my dear Mrs. IMiffin ? Oh ! how very en- 
 chanting ! My dears, Mrs. Mififin's little boy will dance a 
 Highland Fling or a Hornpipe for us. Which would you 
 like best?" 
 
 A general chorus of " Hornpipe " was the answer, the 
 only lukewarm voice being, in fact, that of Toodles, who 
 was getting desperately anxious lest he should be sent to 
 bed before supper, and greeted with secret dismay every 
 new event which postponed that meal. 
 
 Mrs. Miffin graciously signified her assent, and settled 
 down at the piano to accompany the performance. She 
 presented a very imposing aspect as she did so. When I 
 say that she took off and scattered about enough rings to 
 satisfy the ambition of any ordinary pawnbroker — when I 
 say that she bared her arms up to the elbows, for greater 
 freedom of action — when I add that she so adjusted her 
 tartan plaid that it wobbled majestically up and down at 
 every note — when I have said all this, I shall still have 
 failed to convey to you the determination, the fiery zeal, 
 which distinguished Mrs. Miffin at that moment. 
 
 The room was cleared ; the infant chieftain advanced to
 
 14 MRS. PAGGLEBY'S JUVENILE PARTY. 
 
 the middle. ISIrs, Miffin played a thrilling chord, which 
 comprised every note on the piano, except two which were 
 out of order and would not respond, and then began the 
 hornpipe. Mrs. Mififin followed the tune with a running 
 accompaniment, which was something after this sort : 
 " Tiddle-tim-ium-/um. Cross your legs, my dear. Tiddle- 
 nrci-ii-tum-tum-tjun. Throw your arms about, love. Tiddle- 
 iddy-iddy-iddy-iddy-iddy-iddy-iddy. Make believe at pulling 
 ropes, my darling boy. Cross your legs again. Ti-iddy- 
 um. Vxetend to row. Throw your legs about, and arms 
 about, my sweet ; just so. Tiddy-2^?/zti-iddy-iddy. Plunge 
 about like mad, my dear. Oh ! cross your legs ; do cross 
 your legs, my dear ! Oh ! oh ! " 
 
 By the time this point was reached, the infant Miffin was 
 nearly exhausted, while his mamma was panting audibly. 
 So the performance was brought to an abrupt close by 
 Mrs. Miffin, with the immediate result of leaving the young 
 gentleman pulling violently at an imaginary rope, with one 
 leg in the air and no tune to finish on. 
 
 By this time Mrs. Paggleby had expected supper to be 
 ready, but as no announcement was made upon the subject, 
 she bethought her to fill up the gap by singing a song. 
 Now Mrs. Paggleby had had a very good voice, but it was 
 a matter of somewhat remote history (so much so, that 
 some ill-natured people did not believe it) ; and the fact 
 that she specially prided herself on being able to sing with- 
 out having either the music or the words before her, and 
 that she generally forgot most of the music and a good 
 many of the words, led to curious results. 
 
 On this occasion Mrs. Paggleby sang, "Believe me, if 
 all those endearing young charms." The first verse went
 
 MRS. PAGGLEBY'S JUVENILE PARTY. 15 
 
 pretty smoothly, but in the second verse Mrs. Paggleby 
 got upon the breakers, and it came out something like 
 
 this : — • 
 
 Oh ! it is not while beauty and youth are thine own, 
 
 And thy face unbeknown to a tear, 
 That the strength of a heart so devoted as mine can be known, 
 
 To which time will only make thee more clear 1 mean dear. 
 
 For the heart that has once loved truly doesn't forget. 
 But at the close — but loves truly — 
 
 [.1/rs. /l/j//in, prompting : But as truly loves on to the close ] 
 
 Thank you, Mrs. Miffin — But as truly loves on with the close, 
 
 As the dahlia 1 mean the sunflower turns on her god when 
 
 he sits 
 
 The same look which which 
 
 \Mrs. Aliffin : She turned when he rose ] 
 
 Thank you, my dear Mrs. Miffin — The same look which she turned to 
 the rose. 
 
 The last note of Airs. Paggleby's song had just expired 
 when again Mary Jane appeared at the door to announce 
 supper. 
 
 Curiously enough, Toodles was not visible when the party 
 began to move downwards — indeed, no trace of him was 
 seen until Mrs. Paggleby had brought up the rear and sailed 
 out of the room, when there might have been observed a 
 gentle upheaving of the settee, followed by the appearance 
 from under the same of a very small head, and that, at a 
 respectful interval, l)y a very small body. The truth was 
 that Toodles had conceived an idea that the less he 
 obtruded himself under his mamma's gaze before supper 
 the better chance he stood of eluding the maternal authority 
 and joining in that meal. Whence it came that he had 
 selected the settee for a hiding-place, and that he now 
 went stealthily downstairs and deposited himself unobserved
 
 1 6 MRS. PAGGLEBTS JUVENILE PARTY. 
 
 at that precise corner of the supper-table at which he was 
 farthest removed from Mrs. Paggleby, and could, more- 
 over, obtain a good 'deal of cover from one of the most 
 corpulent Lumpits. 
 
 It was a beautiful supper. There were twelve oranges, 
 which were cut up into twenty-four pieces each, and made 
 an immense show. Then there were two chickens, which 
 looked perfectly compact until you undid some pieces of 
 white ribbon with which they were tied up, when they fell 
 into the most convenient and obliging little helps. And 
 there were custards ; and grapes set like precious stones 
 in golden jelly, and corn- flour (I mean blanc-mafige), and 
 a most dissipated-looking tipsy-cake. As for the negus 
 and lemonade, they simply ran. I don't think I am exag- 
 gerating when I say that there must have been enough 
 to go very nearly once round in small sherry glasses. 
 Lastly, there were crackers — lots of crackers — six crackers. 
 Of these six crackers Toodles abstracted one when nobody 
 was looking, Wellington and Napoleon each seized two, 
 and the remaining one would not go off. On the whole, 
 therefore, it must in candour be admitted that the guests 
 did not get much change out of them. 
 
 All things come to an end — the most gorgeous of suppers, 
 the most successful of juvenile parties. The Lumpits ate 
 till they could eat no more. Toodles, exhausted by late 
 hours and deep scheming, went to sleep with his head on 
 the table in a dessert-plate. And then servants arrived to 
 fetch home young masters and misses, and whispered the 
 usual inquiries in the hall as to whether or not they had 
 conducted themselves with that propriety which their re- 
 spective Pas and Mas had fondly hoped for, but only faintly
 
 MRS. PAGGLEBY'S JUVENILE PARTY. 17 
 
 dared to expect ; and little heads disappeared in large wrap- 
 pers, and the eight Lumpits were packed up again and left in 
 a comatose and apoplectic condition, and Wellington Water- 
 loo and Napoleon Bonaparte went to bed too tired to pinch 
 Amelia on the way upstairs, or to indulge in any more active 
 form of hostility in their bedroom than a dropping fire of 
 brushes and pillows. And one by one the lights went out ; 
 the Paggleby establishment was buried in a profound repose, 
 and the Juvenile Party was a thing of the past.
 
 ( i8 ) 
 
 A STRIKE; AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 
 
 " Ho ! you've been and struck, 'ave you ? " inquired Mrs. 
 Dobkins in tones which I cannot conscientiously describe 
 as silvery. 
 
 " Yes, I '«7r," answered Samuel Dobkins. 
 
 "And what did you do that for ?" 
 
 " Dunno." 
 
 "What do yer mean with yer diiniioV This last with a 
 tremendous jerk. 
 
 " Well, I means as a party with a red face come and told 
 the chaps something about slaves and starving. And 'e 
 says, 'You're hall worms of the hearth,' 'e says, 'but Hi'm 
 a Delicate,' 'e says (only 'e didn't look wery delicate), ' and 
 Hi'm a-going to show you ^o\\ to be Rule Britannias.' And 
 'e says, ' You must strike, that's wot you must do ; and if 
 you dotit strike, the Society as Hi comes from, for "^xovwting 
 strikes and giving the working man more pay and scarcely 
 no work at all, will crush you.' So we all come away; and 
 'e says, ' You leave me to deal with your masters, and don't 
 you come back till Hi tell yer.' " 
 
 " Well, Dobkins ! " 
 
 " Well, Mary ! " 
 
 " Is that all as you've got to say ? " 
 
 " Yes ! on'y as the party with the red face sent round 'is 
 'at for a subscription on behalf of the Society, and said as
 
 A STRIKE; AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 19 
 
 sixpence was the smallest donation as the Society would 
 take from hanybody." 
 
 Mrs. Dobkins had listened to this story with an air of 
 calmness which was obviously forced, and boded no good 
 for Mr. Samuel Dobkins. Now she struck an attitude in 
 front of that worthy, in which the placing of the arms 
 akimbo was a prominent feature. 
 
 "Who's going to find the dinner?" 
 
 Mr, Dobkins didn't seem to know. 
 
 "Who's going to feed Mary, and Sally, and Bill, and 
 them blessed twins ? " 
 
 Dobkins didn't appear to know this either. 
 
 " Who's going to keep a 'ome over our 'cads, and prevent 
 cur all going into the werkus ? " 
 
 Dobkins didn't appear to know //«> either. 
 
 "The party with the red face," he observed in a puzzled 
 tone, "never said nothink about that. 'E only said as we 
 wos worms of the hearth." 
 
 "Worms of the hearth, indeed!" retorted Mrs. Dobkins; 
 "you ain't 'arf as good. Worms of the hearth don't go 
 striking because parties with red faces come and call 'em 
 names, and tell 'em a parcel of stuff. Worms of the hearth 
 don't go subscribing sixpences to societies as they don't 
 know nothink about, and then come 'ome and look their 
 wives and children in the face." 
 
 Mrs. Dobkins paused— not because she had finished, but 
 for want of breath — and Samuel Dobkins, roused to despe- 
 ration (he very seldom dared to interrupt the flow of the 
 good lady's tongue), broke in — 
 
 "It ain't no good your a-going on : 'Ave I struck? Yes, 
 I 'ave struck. Do I know wot for ? No, I don't know wot
 
 2b A STRIKE; AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 
 
 for. Wot's the good of it ? I don't know wot's the good 
 of it. Why did I do it ? Cos the other chaps did it. If you 
 wos to talk till you wos black in the face you couldn't make 
 that no different." 
 
 Mrs. Dobkins burst into tears. Mary Dobkins, junior, 
 Sally Dobkins, and Bill Dobkins burst into tears. The 
 twins (not yet named) burst into one tear between them. 
 
 Let us pass over a week or two, and give another peep 
 into Mr. Samuel Dobkins' establishment. It does not look 
 so nice as it did when we left it just now. There is a bare- 
 ness about the sitting-room difficult to make out at first, but 
 when we look round we find that several useful and orna- 
 mental articles have disappeared mysteriously. 
 
 There were two little china shepherds on the mantelpiece 
 before, playing two china flutes — they seem to have passed 
 on, flutes and all, to the next street. There was a good 
 old-fashioned clock, which ticked away as regularly as 
 Mrs. Dobkins' tongue, but not nearly so fast. There was a 
 gigantic warming-pan, so bright on the round part of it that 
 you might have looked into it and ascertained whether or 
 not you had a smut on your nose. Clock and warming- 
 pan have both gone. 
 
 I'here was a wonderful picture on the wall — a gentleman 
 with a big head and a small body stabbing another gentle- 
 man with a small head and big body ; and the gentleman 
 with the small head and big body used to smile away, as if 
 being stabbed through so hard that the sword came out at 
 his back, like a skewer through a joint of meat, were rather 
 a joke than otherwise. They appear to have killed each 
 other, and been carried away and buried.
 
 A STRIKE, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 21 
 
 Nay, I could declare that there was at least one chair 
 more than there is now, the last time we called ; that there 
 was a table-cloth on the table, a complete set of fire-irons 
 in the grate (there is only a poker there now, which must 
 evidently have been nearly related to the tongs and shovel, 
 it looks so dull and melancholy without them), and many 
 other things of which we haven't time to take an inventory. 
 
 Mrs. Dobkins is out, but Mr. Dobkins is sitting there, 
 still on strike, and looking very much down in the mouth. 
 He has a twin on each knee (left there by Mrs. Dobkins 
 before she went out), a circumstance which does not appear 
 to increase his comfort. Moreover, the twins are not used 
 to sitting on Samuel Dobkins' knee, and they don't like it. 
 Consequently, the twins stiffen themselves out like two 
 ramrods, and begin to slide downwards. Samuel Dobkins 
 holds them ui) by their necks as well as he can, one with 
 each hand, a course of treatment under the influence of 
 which the twins begin to gurgle in the throat, and show 
 signs of suffocation. At this precise juncture, happily for 
 the twins, Mrs. Dobkins comes in. 
 
 " Wot are you a-doing of with them blessed twins ? " cries 
 Mrs. Dobkins, as she rushes to their rescue. She snatches 
 them from Mr. Dobkins, gives him her opinion of his 
 nursing powers and domestic usefulness generally in terms 
 more plain than elegant, and then imperiously bids him go 
 and turn the mangle. Mrs. Dobkins does mangling, by- 
 the-bye. 
 
 Mr. Dobkins, with a groan, goes to the mangle. Oh, 
 how he docs dislike that mangle ! Mangling, like skinning 
 eels, is an employment which you can't thoroughly enjoy 
 until you're quite used to it. ^Ir. Dobkins is not used
 
 22 A STRIKE; AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 
 
 to it, for until he went on strike and was about the place 
 all day Mrs. Dobkins had been able to pay a boy to do it 
 for her; and it takes him just in the small of the back. 
 
 Mrs, Dobkins proceeds to cook the dinner — not nearly 
 such a good one, by-the-bye, as they used to sit down to a 
 short time since, when Dobkins came home from work for 
 an hour in the middle of the day. She is not an amiable 
 woman, Mrs. Dobkins, but she works very hard, poor thing, 
 and tries all she can to keep the wolf from the door, now 
 that Samuel is at home on strike, doing nothing. She 
 makes as much use as she can of him, as you have already 
 seen ; but that, as you have also seen, is not much. 
 
 " Much good you and your strike have done," she jerks 
 out, as she busies herself with slapping the children all 
 round (except the twins, who have not yet arrived at a 
 slapping age), and looking after the dinner at the same 
 time. "A great, lazy, idle, good-for-nothing man like you, 
 sitting about the place and grumbling over a little mangling, 
 as if it wos the tread-mill ! 'Ow long am I to go on toiling 
 and working till I'm fit to drop, and the things being pawned 
 one after another till the place is getting as bare as a prison 
 cell, and all along of you and your strike, indeed ? " 
 
 Samuel Dobkins went on mangling, and as he mangled 
 he thought within himself that, upon the whole, it was 
 better to be a worm of the earth than to look after the 
 twins, turn the mangle, and be subject all day to the attacks 
 of Mrs. Dobkins' active tongue. Moreover, Samuel Dob- 
 kins preferred having enough to eat to being half-starved ; 
 and more than that, it did not delight Samuel Dobkins to 
 see his ornaments and portable articles of furniture remov- 
 ing by instalments to the establishment referred to by Mrs.
 
 A STRIKE; AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 23 
 
 Dobkins, where tickets were issued which were not raihvay 
 tickets. 
 
 It took Samuel Dobkins, in a general way, a considerable 
 time to find his mind — which was not a large one — and, 
 when he had found it, to make it up; but, when he did 
 make it up, the dome of St. Paul's was a balloon compared 
 to the firmness of it. And Samuel Dobkins made up his 
 mind now. He left the mangle without a word, put on his 
 cap, and darted out of the house. He did not return for 
 several hours ; indeed, Mrs. Dobkins began to get rather 
 alarmed at his prolonged absence. But he came in late 
 in the evening, and his face, although he was evidently very 
 tired, looked brighter than it had done for many days, and 
 a weight seemed to have been taken off him. 
 
 "Where 'ave you been to, Dobkins?" asked the good 
 lady, in astonishment. 
 
 "Give us summat to eat, and then I'll tell you," an- 
 swered that worthy. 
 
 Mrs. Dobkins was not an ill-natured woman at heart, and 
 she saw that her husband really did want something to 
 eat very badly, so she curbed in her curiosity — a mighty 
 difficult thing for a woman to do, mind you — until she had 
 set food before him, and had seen it disappear down his 
 throat. I can assure you it didn't take long to do that ; 
 the slices of bread and butter seemed to go down like 
 letters into a post-office. 
 
 And then, when the post-office was quite full, Samuel 
 gave a grunt of satisfaction and began his explanation. 
 
 " Mary, I've been round to all the chaps as is on strike, 
 and I says to them, I says, I dunno wot_jw/ think about 
 being on strike, and I dunno wot the party with the red 
 
 O'
 
 24 A STRIKE; AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 
 
 face thinks about it ; but I knows wot I thinks, and I thinks 
 this, that if I was a worm of the hearth afore I went on 
 strike, I'm summat a deal more unpleasant now; and 
 I'm a-going back ter-morrow morning to be a worm again, 
 I am, so you may do wot you likes. Well, I found the 
 t'other chaps didn't seem very comfortable neither, and Bill 
 Jenkins, 'e says to me, says 'e, ' I'd rather be a worm with 
 summat to heat, and do my work honest and manly, than 
 be a Rule Britannia with a hempty hinside and a un'appy 
 'ome.' So wot with talking with one, and wot with talking 
 with another, we're all agreed as we're a-going back ter- 
 morrow morning, and we ain't going to strike no more, not 
 if we jolly well knows it." 
 
 Samuel Dobkins and his comrades did go back next 
 morning. I understand that the party with the red face, 
 who had been blustering with their masters, and sowing 
 discord in every direction to the best of his abiUty, made 
 his appearance a day or two after he heard that the 
 men had returned to work. I am further told that the 
 party with the red face did not get any subscriptions for the 
 Society on that occasion. I have even heard that he was 
 observed a few minutes afterwards to be running away with 
 much energy, and to be holding one hand to his nose, even 
 as people do after that tender organ has received an un- 
 expected blow. 
 
 And I have also heard that Samuel Dobkins and his 
 mates still find themselves more comfortable in the char- 
 acter of worms of the earth than they did when playing the 
 part of " Rule Britannias."
 
 ( 25 ) 
 
 LETITIA'S GOOSEBERRY. 
 
 A LOVE-STORY IN TWO CHAPTERS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Augustus and Letitia were engaged to be married — no 
 underhand secret affair, but a regular out-and-out engage- 
 ment. Augustus's Pa and Ma approved — Letitia's Pa and 
 ]\Ia approved. Augustus wore a locket at the end of his 
 watch-chain, the size of an ordinary saucer, containing about 
 a pound and a half of Letitia's liair. Letiiia had a ring on 
 the third finger of her left hand, from which finger, as is 
 well known to all lovers, there proceeds a vein which 
 communicates with an artery which goes straight to the 
 heart. Augustus called Letitia sometimes "Tisha"(as if 
 she were a sneeze), sometimes " Lettice " (as if she were 
 a vegetable), Letitia called Augustus " Gussie." Last, 
 but not least, Augustus adored Letitia — and Letitia idol- 
 ised Augustus. The happy day was not fixed, for a 
 reason which often applies in these cases, to wit, that 
 Augustus had not yet made his way in the world to any 
 appreciable extent (his net revenue being, in fact, eighteen 
 shillings a week) ; while Letitia's parents, who lived in 
 a mysterious manner in the basement of a house, and let
 
 26 LETITIA'S GOOSEBERRY. 
 
 all the rest to lodgers, were not in a position to endow that 
 young woman with any more substantial fortune than their 
 blessing — an article which is all very well in its way, but 
 doesn't go far towards furnishing a house, and won't even 
 pay for a tin of AustraUan meat. Consequently, Augus- 
 tus and Letitia were obliged to wait in mutual trust and 
 confidence — to see each other on every possible and im- 
 possible occasion — to write to each other at intervals of 
 twelve hours — and to walk out on Sunday afternoons arm in 
 arm up to the elbow. 
 
 I say to walk out ; but if you imagine that I mean to 
 walk out alone, you do a grievous wrong to Letitia's Pa and 
 Ma. They were far too prim and proper to allow anything 
 of the sort ; and so, if you please, when the lovers sallied 
 forth, Letitia's younger sister, a maiden of thirteen, went 
 with them and played that part which is commonly called 
 "gooseberry." 
 
 Let me here ask parenthetically, but with deep feeling, 
 whether any reader of mine has ever played gooseberry ? 
 I have ; and I am prepared to state on oath that the lead- 
 ing features of the character are not pleasing. 
 
 You are expected to look intently at earth, sky, sea, brick 
 wall, or whatever else may be visible to the naked eye — but 
 NEVER (that "never" is spelt with five capital letters) at 
 ihe engaged couple. You are NEVER (five more capitals) 
 allowed to hear one sentence, word, exclamation, or sigh 
 proceeding from the two persons you have been sent out 
 with. You are expected to maintain the silence of the 
 tomb ; and if you infringe against this inflexible rule you are 
 regarded with a stony glare on the part of the gentleman, 
 while the lady favours you with a contemptuous toss of the
 
 LETITIA'S GOOSEBERRY. 27 
 
 head, as if to say, " The idea of such a thing, indeed." 
 Lastly, you have a depressing conviction that you are re- 
 garded as an unmitigated nuisance, an intolerable incum- 
 brance, a condensed essence of wet blanket, by both your 
 companions. 
 
 Having avenged a few past injuries with these remarks, 
 and fervently hoping that one or two people, whom I could 
 name if I would (but I wouldn't if I were on the rack), may 
 writhe under them, I come back to Letitia and Augustus ; 
 and I reproduce two letters which passed between them. 
 
 No. I. 
 Letitia to Augustus. 
 
 (Pink paper, scolloped ; handwriting faint and somewhat 
 angular ; total absence of stops.) 
 
 "27 Pump Stkket S.W. Saturday morning. 
 
 " My dearest dearest dearest Gussie — I long for to- 
 morrow afternoon when you will take me out and I shall be 
 quite ready and in my new grey and I think you will like it 
 and oh ! don't be late because the moments I shall count 
 and also long for them to go that I may see my Gussie and 
 I can't write more because of the lodgers' dinners but oh ! 
 dear Gussie till the world do end I am yours 
 
 " TiSHA. 
 
 " r.S. — Maria isn't going with us to-morrow but a gentle- 
 man as is a friend of ours."
 
 28 LETITIA'S GOOSEBERRY. 
 
 No. 2. 
 Augustus to Letitia. 
 (Handwriting round and mercantile, with flourishes.) 
 "42 Smiff Street. Saturday evetimg. 
 " My precious Tisha, — Yours to hand. How can you 
 s'pose I would be late, when I can hardly eat cos of wishing 
 so tremendous to see my angel in her grey. The gent named 
 in the P.S. I have not heard of previous and is puzzling; 
 and as regards going out, would prefer Mariar as is used to 
 it and don't trouble. Not, I'm sure, because jealous ; far 
 from same ; and I know you would never go to do anything 
 to break my heart and make the world a dessert 
 
 [In the original the word is spelt with two s's, but Au- 
 gustus probably meant " desert "] 
 
 "To your loving Gussie." 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Punctually to the fraction of a moment, Augustus sped 
 to the abode of his Letitia that Sunday afternoon ; and 
 such was the ardour of his mind, that he disregarded the 
 steps which led to the front door of his beloved one's castle, 
 tripped up them, and went head foremost into the waist- 
 coat of — another. 
 
 Yes, another — a man — and what's more, a tall, handsome 
 man, with a bronzed face, and curly hair, and blue eyes, 
 and spick and span clothes, and brand-new boots. The 
 door was wide open, and this person was standing in front 
 of it in an easy and familiar attitude, as if he had lived 
 there all his life.
 
 LETITI/VS GOOSEBERRY. -9 
 
 Augustus had scarcely recovered a perpendicular position 
 when out came Letitia, all smiling and shimmering in her 
 new grey dress, with a jaunty little bonnet trimmed with an 
 impossible-looking crop of wheat and cherries, and carrying in 
 her hand a shawl in size about fifteen inches square, and in 
 texture of the thickness of tissue paper — one of those pre- 
 posterously useless little shawls that young ladies carry 
 about in order, as I verily believe, to give young gentlemen 
 an opportunity of saying, "I'm sz/re you will catch cold. 
 Z><?, do let me persuade you to put your shawl on," &;c. &c. 
 
 "Oh, Gussie dear, how pleased I am to see you how 
 do you like my new dress and this is the gentleman I 
 named in my letter he's a c'cry old friend of ours though 
 you haven't seen him before and his name's Jack." 
 This in one breath. 
 
 The tall man smiled, held out his hand to Augustus, and 
 said, in a hearty voice, " How are you?" 
 
 Augustus did nof smile, and did nof hold out his hand, 
 and only answered sulkily, "Oh! I s'pose I'm all right." 
 Whereat the tall man only smiled rather more pleasantly 
 than before. But Letitia arched her eyebrows, and pouted 
 her lips, and tossed her head, and said, " We//, I'm sure 
 ^/la^'s a nice way of speaking." 
 
 Augustus muttered something between his teeth which 
 sounded like "Jack, indeed! Very old friend, I should 
 think ! " an observation which, far from offending the tall 
 man, seemed to cause him infinite amusement. 
 
 " Yes," said he, " I am a very old friend — older even than 
 you, I fancy. But suppose we make a start. Come along, 
 Letitia." And therewith, in front of the very eyes, nose, and 
 teeth of Augustus, the tall man held out his arm to Letitia.
 
 30 LETITIA'S GOOSEBERRY. 
 
 Letitia took it, and before he knew what he was doing, 
 Augustus found himself walking along dismally on the 
 other side of the young lady, and surveying with tumul- 
 tuous bosom the obvious dehght which the false maiden 
 seemed unmistakably to find in the companionship of the 
 tall villain. Neither of them took any notice of Augustus 
 for some time, but at length the tall man looked over Le- 
 titia's head at his woe-begone visage, and observed blandly, 
 "You don't seem quite well. Anything wrong?" 
 
 " No, thank you," snapped back Augustus, " there ain't 
 anything the matter with me, though p'r'aps of/ier people " 
 (here a vindictive glance at Letitia) " might be pleased if 
 there 7£ias." 
 
 "Oh ! " said the tall man cheerfully, "you looked so glum 
 that I thought you must be unwell. Not unhappy about 
 anything, I hope?" 
 
 " Never was 'appier in my life," snarled Augustus. 
 
 " I'm afraid your life can't have been a very festive one 
 then," said the tall man, laughing outright. 
 
 Well, this set the young lady off giggling ; and for the rest 
 of that walk the tall man and Letitia were seized with un- 
 controllable fits of mirth, which first wound up Augustus to 
 a point bordering on frenzy, and then produced on his 
 features an appearance of awful gloom. 
 
 By the time they reached home again he had taken a 
 deep and dreadful resolution, of which he decided to un- 
 bosom himself on the door-mat. 
 
 Little guessing what was about to ensue, Letitia gaily 
 opened the door, and the trio marched in, Augustus bringing 
 up the rear. He closed the door behind him, solemnly, 
 drew himself up to his full height (five feet three inches in
 
 LETITIA'S GOOSEBERRY. 31 
 
 his stockings — thick stockings), and remarked, in a tone of 
 supernatural cahnness — 
 
 " Serpents ! " 
 
 Letitia and the tall man turned round, amazed. 
 
 " I said serpents, and I mean serpents. I cast you hoff 
 for hever, girl. You 'ave destroyed my 'appiness ; but there 
 is rest in the Regent's Canal for the pilgrim of love. You 
 will never, never, never see me more till my corpse is found 
 — and then my spirit will 'aunt you with remorse. Take 
 'er — take 'er — you who 'ave come and blighted my hevery 
 'ope — take 'er, and may she be to you a tormentuous 
 scourge ! " 
 
 It is mournful to have to say that the sole effect which 
 this oration produced on the tall man was to convulse him 
 with laughter. Letitia, however, turned pale; and when 
 Augustus waved his hands, and was about to start from the 
 house as one distracted on his dreadful errand of self- 
 destruction, she rushed to him, and clung hold of him by 
 his paper collar. Augustus struggled, and the paper collar, 
 not being adapted to this sort of thing, would infallibly have 
 given way, when, just at this moment, Letitia's Pa and JMa, 
 who had heard a commotion going on, ran up the kitchen 
 stairs. 
 
 "Why, mussy on us! what's the matter?" exclaimed 
 Letitia's Ma, bewildered. " Why, Gustus, you aiiit been 
 quarrelling with my son Jack, as is just 'ome from 
 India ? " 
 
 Augustus jumped as if he had been shot, and in so doing 
 freed himself from Letitia's grasp. 
 
 " What ! your son — Tisha's brother, as sent 'er 'ome the 
 Hinjan hear-rings and cadgmere shawl — wh}', they never
 
 32 LETITIA'S GOOSEBERRY. 
 
 told me. Oh ! Tisha, can you ? " And Augustus held out 
 his arms. 
 
 Tisha could, and the way in which she signified that she 
 could was to make a corresponding movement. 
 
 The fact is, don't you see, that Letitia's brother had just 
 come home from India unexpectedly, and that a little joke 
 had been got up between himself and Letitia that he should 
 be introduced to Augustus as a friend, and that Augustus 
 should not be told at first who he really was. Augustus, 
 who was dreadfully jealous, had unfortunately taken him to 
 be a rival the moment he saw him, and certainly had not 
 enjoyed the fun quite so much as had been expected. In- 
 deed, although he and his Letitia have long since been 
 united in the bonds of holy matrimony, he can never, to 
 this day, recall, without a shudder, that Sunday after- 
 noon on which her brother assumed Maria's place as 
 gooseberry.
 
 HO W MR. SMIGGLES WENT TO 
 A PUBLIC DINNER. 
 
 A DRESS-SUIT of faultless cut— a pair of patent leather 
 boots, the brightness Avhereof was dazzling in the extreme 
 — a shirt-front of snowy, a collar of snowier, and a tie of 
 snowiest whiteness — a hat which, when its services were 
 not required, would, on being gently pressed at the top, 
 cease to be a hat, and resolve itself into a something which 
 might be sat upon, or squeezed, or dropped, or assaulted 
 in any manner whatsoever, without sustaining the smallest 
 injury. These various elements, united in one, constituted 
 the outside of Mr. Ferdinand Smiggles, as he started from 
 home on that eventful evening. 
 
 He was what you might style a mild-looking person. 
 He had a small body and a large, fat, smooth, sleek face, 
 upon the left cheek of which had appeared seven years 
 previously a something very like a Brussels sprout (only 
 that it was straw-coloured and not green), which he 
 designated his " whiskers." He had been waiting ever 
 since for a similar eruption to take place on his right 
 cheek, as one who waited for the millennium. 
 
 On this occasion Mr. Smiggles looked unusually animated 
 and important. And not without cause, indeed. For he 
 was going out to dinner— not a mere everyday dinner-
 
 34 HOW MR. SMIGGLES WENT 
 
 party, where Mr. Smith would take Mrs. Brown in to dinner, 
 while Mr. Brown was doing the same kind office for Mrs. 
 Smith. No, indeed ; but to a grand public dinner — a 
 dinner given in honour of that great man Sir Spratby 
 Haddock. 
 
 This more than lion of the hour — this lion and tiger, and 
 Polar bear, with a hippopotamus thrown in — had done 
 something of such profound service to the country (I don't 
 quite know what it was, but I think it was an improvement 
 in the art of skinning eels), that 250 of his admirers had 
 agreed to eat 250 very rich, unwholesome, and expensive 
 dinners for the privilege and glory of seeing Sir Spratby 
 Haddock submit himself to the same operation. 
 
 The circumstances which enrolled Mr. Smiggles in the 
 band were these. He had an acquaintance, by name 
 Barnaby Blazes, a captain in the Royal Navy. Now 
 Captain Barnaby Blazes, R.N., being interested in the 
 skinning of eels, had obtained a ticket for the banquet, but, 
 unable at the last moment to go, he had presented it to 
 Mr. Smiggles, who w^as only too proud to take his place. 
 
 Behold him, then, triumphantly journeying to the scene 
 of action in a hansom cab — and behold him ten minutes 
 after his arrival devouring turtle soup with his mouth and 
 Sir Spratby Haddock with his eyes ! 
 
 Then, leaving him for one minute thus pleasantly occu- 
 pied, let us listen to a hurried conversation carried on in 
 an undertone between the chairman and a member of the 
 committee. 
 
 " \\'ho is there to return thanks for the Army, Navy, and 
 Volunteers ? " asked the chairman. 
 
 "The name of Captain B. Blazes, R.X., is on the list,"
 
 TO A PUBLIC DINNER. 35 
 
 replied the member of the committee; "you had better 
 call on him." 
 
 " Do you know where he's sitting ? " continued the 
 chairman. 
 
 "I don't know him even by sight," said the committee- 
 man, looking down a list which he took out of his pocket ; 
 "but I see that his seat is No. 13 on the left-hand side 
 down the table ; so, counting the numbers on that side, it 
 must be that man witla the fat face and big white choker," 
 and therewith the committee-man pointed at our uncon- 
 scious friend, Mr. Smiggles. 
 
 "All right," said the chairman, "I see the man you 
 mean," and with a nod of mutual understanding, the con- 
 ference ended. 
 
 Dear me, what a grand dinner it was ! Dish followed 
 dish, and course followed course ! Champagne corks were 
 popping away with all the force of musketry, and nearly 
 as much noise ; while from the assembled company there 
 arose the indescribable hubbub which is produced when a 
 large number of people eat and drink and talk as hard as 
 they can at one and the same moment. 
 
 The soul of Mr. Smiggles expanded with pleasure and 
 enjoyment. 
 
 He had never before seen either the gentleman who sat 
 on his right or the gentleman who sat on his left ; but 
 before many courses had been completed, he had vowed 
 eternal friendship with the former, and called the latter 
 "old boy" three times. 
 
 The dinner at last gave way to dessert, and to the 
 business of the evening — the health-drinking and speech- 
 making.
 
 36 HOW MR. SMIGGLES WENT 
 
 First of course, there was the toast of the "Queen," and 
 then of the "Prhice and Princess of Wales, and all the 
 Royal Family," 
 
 Then came the "Army, Navy, and Volunteers." Time 
 forces me to pass over the glowing terms in which the 
 chairman referred to the army, and to come at once to 
 an event fraught with stupendous consequences to Mr. 
 Smiggles. 
 
 "Gentlemen," said Mr. Chairman — [Mr. Chairman, by 
 the way, had a vast idea of his own powers of speaking ; 
 he was given to using very long words, not having much 
 apparent reference to the subject in hand, and to quo- 
 tations of doubtful accuracy, and of which the author's 
 name was not given with that degree of correctness that 
 might have been desired ; and he brought out every word 
 he said as if it were his own private property, entered at 
 Stationers' Hall, and with the right of foreign translation 
 reserved] — 
 
 "Gentlemen, I pass from the army" — [here the chair- 
 man waved his hand as if he had sent the army to bed] — 
 "to the illustrious, the invincible, the transcendental navy of 
 this realm. What the immortal Shakespeare so aptly called 
 the 'wooden walls of old England' have now given way 
 to impenetrable and majestic iron. But have our sailors 
 changed ? Has Britannia ceased (if I may borrow from 
 Wordsworth) to rule the waves ? Are the traditions which 
 have descended from the heroes who (as Lord Byron once 
 observed) 'proudly ploughed the azure deep and on its 
 bosom went to sleep ' to be degenerately falsified in this our 
 day?" — [Here the chairman paused and looked fiercely at 
 a decanter, as if awaiting an answer to these crushing
 
 TO A PUBLIC DINNER. ^y 
 
 questions.] — " No ! Never will Britons be the minions of 
 a degraded foe, or ' tune to please a peasant's ear the harp 
 a king once loved to hear ' in miserable captivity. 
 
 " Gentlemen, we have not among us a soldier or a 
 volunteer, but we have here a distinguished member of 
 the service to which I have just referred, that of the navy ; 
 and in proposing the toast of the ' Army, Navy, and 
 Volunteers,' I have great pleasure in coupling with it the 
 name'of Captain }). Blazes, R.N." 
 
 The chairman bowed straight at Mr. Smiggles — there was 
 no doubt about it — as he rose to drink the toast. Every- 
 body else followed the example of the chairman, and rose 
 also. Mr. Smiggles followed the example of everybody 
 else, and rose too. But what was his astonishment to feel 
 the tails of his coat pulled violently by the gentlemen on 
 either side of him, while one of them whispered hurriedly, 
 as he yielded to the combined assault and sank back 
 amazed, " Sit down ; you mustn't stand up while your 
 health is being drunk." 
 
 Amidst great cheering was drunk the health of the 
 "Army, Navy, and Volunteers," as represented by the 
 imaginary Captain Blazes. 
 
 And now that individual was expected to return thanks 
 for the compliment. 
 
 In other words, every eye was turned upon Ferdinand 
 Smiggles ; and if every eye had been the barrel of a loaded 
 gun Ferdinand Smiggles could not have looked more com- 
 l^letely astounded. 
 
 A fearful pause ensued. 
 
 " Now you must make a speech," said the gentleman on 
 his right.
 
 38 HOW MR. SMIGGLES WENT 
 
 " For goodness' sake get up and begin," said the gentle- 
 man on his left. 
 
 Simultaneously the gentleman on his right and the 
 gentleman on his left applied a gentle upwardly propelling 
 process to Mr. Smiggles, which resulted in his standing 
 before the assembled company in a perpendicular position, 
 and with a look of abject vacant astonishment on his sleek 
 visage which no pen can describe. 
 
 All that the mind of Smiggles could grasp was this, that 
 he, who had never made a speech in his life, was called 
 upon to respond to the toast without a moment's prepara- 
 tion ; but whether because Captain Barnaby Blazes wasn't 
 there, or because he was sitting in Captain Barnaby Blazes' 
 place, or for what other reason, his bewildered mind could 
 form no idea. Nothing but the desperate nature of the 
 occasion, and a certain amount of courage derived from the 
 champagne, could ever have enabled him to begin. 
 
 " Mr. Gentlemen and chairman — I mean Mr. Chairman 
 and gentlemen — the army and navy and volunteers are very 
 much obliged — and — and — pleased at the honour they've 
 done you — at least, of course, I don't mean that — I mean 
 the honour you've done them in being drunk — I — I — mean 
 their health being drunk. The army is — is — I say the 
 army isn't the navy ; in fact, they're quite different ; and — 
 and — the volunteers too." (Long pause, not a sound — 
 not even a funeral note.) 
 
 " Gentle chairman — I mean gentlemen— I — I — in point 
 of fact, what I mean is that — I don't quite exactly know 
 what I mean — but as I said before, we're very much obliged ; 
 and, I think, it might be as well if I didn't say any more." 
 (Long pause — still a dead silence.)
 
 TO A PUBLIC DINNER. 39 
 
 " Gentlemen, I'm quite sure I'd better not go on — Gentle- 
 men " — [that word was the straw of the drowning Smiggles] 
 — "the army and Blazes, — I mean the army and navy and 
 volunteers are very much obliged to you for drinking their 
 honour — for the honour of their being drunk — for drink- 
 ing their volunteers — and I'll — I'll — I'll tell Captain Blazes 
 — thank you — and oh ! I wish with all my soul " — [here Mr. 
 Smiggles burst into tears, and sobbed] — "that Blazes was 
 here to do it himself." 
 
 Mr. Smiggles sank down at this point in a state of un- 
 utterable collapse. 
 
 The whole assembly had seemed transfixed with astonish- 
 ment throughout his hapless oration. The gentleman who 
 had raised his glass half-way to his lips kept it exactly in 
 the same position — the gentleman who had put his hands 
 together for the purpose of applause moved them not, and 
 sat like one in the attitude of supplication — the gentleman 
 who was about to regale himself from the snuff-box of his 
 neighbour, and the neighbouring gentleman who had 
 proffered the snuff-box, might have come straight from 
 Madame Tussaud's for any sign of movement that they 
 gave. 
 
 But suddenly the features of the committee-man whom I 
 mentioned before resumed their suspended animation, and 
 relapsed into a broad grin. 
 
 He bent towards the chairman and said, "There must 
 be some mistake here; tliis gentleman seems to have 
 taken the place of Captain Blazes." 
 
 The explanation speedily circulated through the room, 
 and was followed by a roar of laughter at the expense of 
 Mr. Smiggles, who would have welcomed a moderate
 
 40 HOW MR. SMIGGLES WENT TO A DINNER. 
 
 earthquake. As it was, he seized an opportunity, when 
 everybody was engaged in cheering Sir Spratby Haddock, 
 to beat a precipitate retreat. 
 
 Mr. Smiggles was very ill for several days. 
 
 He has never been to a public dinner since. , 
 
 He never means to go to one again as long as he lives. 1
 
 ( 41 ) 
 
 UNDERGROUND JOTTINGS. 
 
 If any doctor, after feeling my pulse, and examining my 
 eyelids, and otherwise investigating the state of my health, 
 were to say to me, "Sir, you must have a complete change 
 of air ; it does not matter what sort of change it is, so long 
 as it is a thorough change," I should not go to the east 
 coast of England, or the west coast, or any other coast, or 
 island, or isthmus, or promontory whatsoever ; but I should 
 just invest in a suit of exaggerated tweeds and a two-and- 
 ninepenny straw hat with the name of a ship on the ribbon 
 (all in for the money), and I should go and sit comfortably 
 inside the Gower Street Station, on the Metropolitan Rail- 
 way. It is about the most complete change of air that I 
 know of. And it has this peculiar advantage, that when 
 you have sat long enough, and would like to go home, you 
 can cut two or three slices of the atmosphere with your knife, 
 and take them away with you, so that you need never be 
 without it. 
 
 I believe that few people are really alive to all the 
 medicinal advantages of the Underground Railway, and I 
 humbly trust that these pages may be the means of direct- 
 ing attention to the subject, written as they are by one 
 who travels on it twice a day, and can appreciate it in all 
 its richness of delights.
 
 42 UNDERGROUND JOTTINGS. 
 
 Suppose you have a tendency to languor and debility. 
 Very well. Take your ticket for a third-class carriage, and 
 when the train comes in, look into all the compartments 
 till you see the one in which fish is carried, and get in. 
 You will show little languor and debility in getting out at 
 the next station. 
 
 Suppose you are afflicted with headaches. Take your 
 ticket for a third-class carriage (all the virtue is in third- 
 class carriages), and get into the guard's compartment. 
 When you approach the next station he will begin to turn 
 a handle, and you will suddenly feel a buzzing sensation 
 in the feet, which will rise like a galvanic shock to the 
 head, and deprive you of every nerve you possess to the 
 end of your life. You will have no more headaches. 
 
 Suppose you are recommended a Turkish bath. Take 
 your ticket, as before, some time in August, and get into a 
 compartment in which, as is usually the case, six people 
 are sitting on each side, four are standing up, and both 
 windows are shut. Turkish baths are nothing to it. 
 
 Instances of this kind might be multiplied indefinitely ; 
 but I pass on to the moral benefits of the Underground 
 Railway, which are inestimable. 
 
 I flatter myself that when I travel on it my privileges of 
 displaying patience would compare favourably with any- 
 thing that came in Job's way. 
 
 I have sometimes travelled along with a very fat man 
 overlapping me on one side, and a very angular man, with 
 peculiarly pointed bones protruding in every direction, on 
 the other side, so wedged in that I could move neither 
 hand nor foot. 
 
 I have had every sharp substance sticking into my ribs
 
 UNDERGROUND JOTTINGS. 43 
 
 which it would be possible to get inside a railway carriage, 
 and a good many as to which I should have thought it 
 impossible that they could get in, if I had not seen them 
 and felt them. 
 
 I remember, one night, a man getting into my carriage at 
 Aldersgate Street, bringing with him, as I am a sinful man, 
 a wooden plank ! And while I was reeling under the 
 effects of the visitation, and wondering whether he would 
 have thought it an out-of-the-way thing to introduce a cart 
 and horse, behold ! the train pulled up at Farringdon 
 Street, and another man got in with a ladder. I remember 
 nothing more of that journey. 
 
 I dislike noise. I even object to hearing the lungs of 
 my children develop actively in my immediate vicinity. I 
 think, therefore, I may fairly claim credit when I say that 
 I have sat and smiled^a ghastly smile, I own, but still a 
 smile — while a greasy man with one arm has produced 
 from under the recesses of a fustian jacket the most diabo- 
 lical instrument you ever heard, and played it in my ear as 
 a running accompaniment to the rattle of the train. 
 
 I have often felt as to that man (who travels as regularly 
 as I do, and always picks me out for his victim), that if I 
 once dropped that artificial smile I should brain him with 
 his own instrument of torture. 
 
 My patience comes out very strongly too under another 
 class of inflictions. There are some people who never by 
 any chance get into the right train, and there are others who 
 never get into the wrong one, but whom nothing on earth will 
 persuade that they are going in the direction that they wish. 
 Thousands of these persons travel on the Underground Rail- 
 way, and I have simply to state that they all sit next to me.
 
 44 UNDERGROUND JOTTINGS. 
 
 I travelled one day from Moorgate Street with a speci- 
 men of the former class. 
 
 He sat (next to me of course) in a state of semi-slumber, 
 which caused his head to droop obliquely in front of mine, 
 the brim of his hat to take a conspicuous position in my 
 eye, and his shoulder to indent itself firmly in my side 
 while we passed two or three stations. 
 
 When we got to King's Cross he suddenly roused up. 
 " Is this Liverpool Street ? " he inquired. 
 
 " No, sir ! this is King's Cross ; we are going in the 
 opposite direction to Liverpool Street," replied I mildly. 
 
 "Opposite direction!" he retorted fiercely. "Why, I 
 took my ticket for Liverpool Street, and I passed King's 
 Cross half-an-hour ago ! " 
 
 I answered mildly, "My good sir, I am extremely sorry, 
 but as a matter of fact, this is King's Cross." 
 
 My soft answer did not turn away his wrath ; for the 
 unreasonable traveller pushed past me in a state of extreme 
 irritation, trod on both my feet on his way out, and, I be- 
 lieve, considered me personally responsible for his having 
 calmly sat in the carriage at Liverpool Street while porters 
 were shouting to every one to get out, fully persuaded that 
 because he had taken a ticket for a certain place and got 
 into a train, he must of necessity arrive without further ado 
 at his destination. 
 
 Middle-aged ladies often beset me. A female in ringlets, 
 surrounded by packages of various kinds, got into my car- 
 riage one day {next me, of course). She first stretched her 
 neck out of the window right across me — a process which 
 involved my being smothered in packages and excoriated 
 with a most intensely metallic chatelaine. 
 
 I 
 I 
 
 4
 
 UNDERGROUND JOTTINGS. 45 
 
 Having got a good "purchase" out of the window, she 
 screamed to a porter to know whether she was right for 
 Marlborough Road. 
 
 "Quite right, ma'am," said the porter; "but you must 
 change at Baker Street." Little did that porter know what 
 he was letting me in for. 
 
 The train reached Aldersgate Street. The female, who 
 had been fidgeting my life out from the moment we had 
 left Moorgate Street, plunged across me again, put her 
 head out of the window — saw " Aldersgate Street " written 
 in immense letters on two or three boards and about thirty 
 lamps — plunged back again — and asked me, in the most 
 barefirced manner, " Is this Baker Street ? " 
 
 I told her gently that Baker Street was five stations off, 
 whereupon she made another plunge, and asked a porter 
 the same question. 
 
 To say that that awful woman did the selfsame thing at 
 every station we passed till we reached Baker Street — to 
 say that she occupied the intervening periods wliile the 
 train was in motion by repeating the names of the stations 
 we had passed, as if it were information of a light and 
 pleasing character — to say that she was seized with an 
 irresistible impulse, at intervals of about two minutes, which 
 caused her to fish out parcels from under the seat and look 
 at them, and put them back again with a bang — to say 
 that by the time we got to Baker Street she had so elbowed, 
 and pushed, and flattened, and smothered me that I was 
 reduced to a condition of pulp — to say all this is to state 
 a simple narrative of facts. But will you believe me when 
 I add, that no sooner had I tottered out of the carriage 
 at Baker Street than I heard the jangle of that dreadful
 
 46 UNDERGROUND JOTTINGS. 
 
 chatelaine, and in another moment was overtaken by the 
 tormentor, and requested to see her into the train for 
 Marlborough Road ? 
 
 Even in that supreme moment I raised a hollow smile, 
 and gasped, "With pleasure." If that woman doesn't 
 leave me a legacy of ;^io,ooo, she ought to be ashamed of 
 herself. 
 
 I conducted her through the passage which leads from 
 the Baker Street Station to the St. John's Wood line, in 
 the course of which journey she pulled up three times to 
 ask other people whether I was taking her right; and 
 eventually I got her into a train. I would not have 
 entered the same carriage if the floor of it had been paved 
 with bank-notes. But as I turned the handle upon her, 
 wishing, for the sake of mankind, that it might positively 
 refuse ever to open again, a head covered with attenuated 
 ringlets was thrust out of the window, and, as the train 
 moved off, a shrill treble voice screamed out, in tones 
 which I shall remember while I live — 
 
 " You're sure I'm right for " 
 
 The rest of that sentence was carried away by the 
 breeze. I congratulate myself on not having been the 
 breeze. 
 
 The trains on the Underground Railway are arranged 
 carefully, so as to develop this same virtue of patience in 
 another aspect. 
 
 In every case in which you have to make a change in 
 order to complete your journey, the train into which you 
 have to make the change generally starts just thirty-five 
 seconds before the train that you have to get out of 
 comes in.
 
 UNDERGROUND JOTTINGS. 47 
 
 The result of this is that you see train No. 2 snorting at 
 the end of a passage — that you pull yourself together, and 
 make a rush, which gives you an incidental attack of pal- 
 pitation — and that you arrive at the end of the passage at 
 the precise moment when the gate is shut in your face with 
 a bang. And as you stand there panting, with your nose 
 flattened against the rails of the gate, you hear the engine 
 go puff, puff, puff — the train moves majestically off — and 
 you have to wait twenty minutes or so for the next one. 
 
 I could enumerate many more of the special advantages 
 of this delightful line of railway — the facilities of getting 
 luggage in and out of a train which stops for five seconds 
 at a station where there is only one porter, who is invariably 
 at the extreme other end of the platform having his boots 
 cleaned, the affable civility of the gentlemen who issue 
 tickets, and many other points ; but I dare not dwell further 
 on the subject, lest you should all insist on taking tickets 
 for my train to-morrow morning, in which case my carriage 
 might be inconveniently crowded, and I might have to 
 stand up, instead of sitting with my dirty boots on the 
 opposite seat. 
 
 I will, therefore, by your leave, get out at this station.
 
 ( 48 ) 
 
 OUR DEBATING CLUB. 
 
 Perkins sat in the chair. When I say that he sat in the 
 chair, I don't mean that he was in the habit of sitting on 
 the floor, but I mean that Perkins sat in the chair of all 
 other chairs in the room, and presided at the meeting of 
 the club. 
 
 Perkins was a person whom we all regarded with con- 
 siderable awe and respect. In the first place, he was the 
 oldest person in the club. It was even darkly whispered 
 that he was twenty, and it was an undoubted fact that his 
 upper lip was adorned with what might be called the first 
 cousin twice removed of a moustache. In the next place, 
 Perkins had the reputation among us of being very clever. 
 In fact, it was known to his more intimate friends that he 
 was quite a literary man, and had written a great many 
 pieces for the magazines. The circumstance that no one 
 had ever seen a magazine, alive or dead, with a piece by 
 Perkins in it, went for nothing, because, as we all agreed, 
 if he wrote a beautiful piece, and the editor of a magazine 
 was foolish enough not to accept it, why, the loss was the 
 loss of the editor, and the publisher, and the printer, and 
 the public, and not the loss of Perkins, who could afford 
 to look down on that periodical with scorn. Perkins must 
 have looked down with scorn upon a good many periodicals, 
 considering the number of book-post parcels that came to
 
 OUR DEBATING CLUB. 49 
 
 him, addressed in his own writing, and very often with two- 
 pence to pay for insufficient postage. 
 
 Perkins was the founder of our debating club. It was 
 said that for some time he and two other young gentlemen 
 named Gosling and Grigsby were the only members ; that 
 Perkins was chairman. Gosling secretary, and Grigsby 
 treasurer ; and that they used to hold meetings and make 
 speeches to each other in Perkins' bedroom, and dispose 
 of matters of vast importance to their entire and triangular 
 satisfaction. But members had gradually enlisted, and 
 the club had swelled to such dimensions, that instead of 
 going to Perkins' father's house, we had arranged with the 
 landlord of a respectable inn for the use of a large room 
 once a week, and there we used to assemble. 
 
 By an arrangement which did infinite credit to the com- 
 bined wisdom of Perkins, Gosling, and Grigsby, we used to 
 discuss subjects of foreign policy and matters of domestic 
 importance in alternate weeks. Apart from the fact that 
 this arrangement gave a pleasing variety to our debates, 
 Perkins had some reason to think that the secret agents 
 of the Government had their eye on us, and that, if we 
 attracted too much attention by constantly deliberating 
 upon the affairs of Europe in its i)resent unsettled state, 
 the Cabinet mightn't like it, and we might get into a mess. 
 Perkins said that, and, being twenty, he was of course a 
 thorough man of the world. 
 
 On the particular evening from which my sketch is taken 
 we had a very full gathering indeed. There was, as I be- 
 fore observed, Perkins in the chair, and there was Gosling 
 on his right hand and Grigsby on his left, and there were 
 something like twenty other members present, not to 
 
 D
 
 50 OUR DEBATING CLUB. 
 
 mention a young gentleman of remarkably self-possessed 
 aspect, who, by an indulgence which we granted in special 
 cases, was introduced by one of the members as a guest 
 for that evening, and whose name was Muggles. 
 
 For this evening the subject was to be of a domestic 
 character, and Perkins had chosen as its title, " Home and 
 its Influences." 
 
 At eight o'clock punctually Perkins rose to open the 
 debate. And when he rose to open a debate, I beg to state 
 that he rose, if I may so say, exceedingly. He not only 
 stood erect, but he always passed both his hands upwards 
 through his hair before he began to speak. The effect was 
 cockatoo-like, but majestic. There was one other feature 
 connected with Perkins which, I am forced to admit, de- 
 tracted a little from the effect of his oratory, which was, that 
 his voice was an alto voice, occasionally varied by an un- 
 earthly bass, which came up at unexpected moments, and 
 seemed to have its origin of domicile in his boots. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said Perkins, " before proceeding to the 
 subject chosen for this evening's debate, I have to propose 
 for your consideration a matter affecting ourselves person- 
 ally, and which is, I think, worthy of your attention. I 
 visited, on Friday evening last, the House of Commons, 
 and I was struck with the circumstance that, in one im- 
 portant respect, our mode of procedure differs materially 
 from that of our Legislature. I mean hats. It has not, I 
 think, occurred to any of us that every member of Parliament 
 possesses, and, if I may say so, exercises in a defiant way, 
 the right of keeping his hat upon his head, instead of put- 
 ting it down to be kicked by the honourable member behind, 
 or sat upon by the honourable member in front.
 
 OUR DEBATING CLUB. 51 
 
 " Gentlemen, there are two reasons which make me think 
 it would be desirable if we were to adopt this custom. 
 
 "The first is, that we wish to form ourselves, in all things, 
 on the model of the House of Commons; and the second 
 is " (and here Perkins shuddered feelingly), " that there is 
 a very unpleasant draught between the broken window at 
 the end of the room and the fireplace. I move, gentlemen, 
 that the following addition be made to our rules : — 
 
 " ' That each member shall keep his hat upon his head 
 while a debate is in progress, except when actually address- 
 ing the meeting.' ]\Ir. Grigsby, will you second that?" 
 
 " Oh, yeth," said Grigsby, jumping up. (Grigsby lisped. 
 He couldn't help it, and I cast no reflection upon him.) 
 " ril thecond it ; only I thuggetht the addition, after the 
 word hat, of the wordth, ' or cap, ath the cathe may be.' " 
 
 " I am much obliged to you for the correction, Mr. 
 Grigsby ; it is a distinct improvement. Gentlemen, if the 
 proposal, as amended, meets with your approval, kindly 
 signify the same in the usual manner." 
 
 The usual manner meant thumping vigorously on the table 
 with both fists for about ten minutes. Everybody signified, 
 and it made a good deal of noise, but that didn't signify. 
 
 Immediately the assent of the club had been made known 
 in this manner, every member present dived down under his 
 chair, and in an instant there might be seen every possible 
 description of hat on the top of every possible description 
 of head. The visitor, Muggles, who had been observed, 
 somewhat to the surprise of the members, to thump on the 
 table louder and longer than any one else, further scandal- 
 ised our august body by placing on the left-hand side of his 
 head, at its extreme back — so much so that it seemed as if
 
 52 OUR DEBATING CLUB. 
 
 it must be clinging to a few hairs — a most rakish, not to say 
 disreputable, species of billy-cock hat, quite out of keeping 
 with the dignity of the club ; a proceeding which caused a 
 flush of anger to mantle on the face of the chairman when 
 he beheld it. 
 
 "And now, gentlemen," resumed Perkins, "I proceed to 
 bring under your notice the subject of ' Home and its In- 
 fluences.' What is home, and what are its influences? 
 May not home be appropriately described as — as " 
 
 At this moment, and while Perkins was flourishing his 
 arm about, and, as it were, getting up the steam for a de- 
 finition, a distressing incident occurred. A sound broke 
 upon the air which distinctly resembled the humming of a 
 tune — a ribald, vulgar, offensive tune, identified with the 
 song, "We won't go home till morning." 
 
 Perkins was transfixed with astonishment. He left off 
 flourishing, and his eyes passed from member to member 
 with an indignant look of interrogation. 
 
 Everybody looked at everybody else, and no one seemed 
 to have the smallest notion where the sound came from. 
 But it might have been observed that Mr. Muggles appeared 
 less concerned about it than the members of the club, and 
 that his eye, if anything, rather twinkled. 
 
 Perkins soon recovered his composure, and in a tone of 
 withering scorn proceeded — 
 
 "Gentlemen, I was about to ask, when interrupted by a 
 most offensive piece of vulgarity, the authorship of which I 
 disdain to inquire into — I was about to ask, What is home, 
 and what are its influences ? I would describe home, when 
 considered in its first aspect, as being a place where our 
 earliest years are passed, and to which, in the evening of
 
 OUR DEBATING CLUB. 53 
 
 life " (Perkins said this in a tone of subdued sadness, as if 
 to imply that, being twenty, he was naturally well up in the 
 subject of the evening of life), "our thoughts return with 
 infinite fondness and yearning." 
 
 Again was the flow of the discourse interrupted, and in 
 a most curious manner. Mr. Muggles, the visitor, began to 
 sob violently from behind his pocket-handkerchief. This 
 outburst being, however, a fitting tribute to the moving 
 nature of his speech, and suggestive of Muggles having 
 recently lost his mother, Perkins merely smiled gently on 
 him and proceeded. 
 
 " Regarded poetically [sod from Mugglcs\ is it not the 
 place to which they took her warrior dead \sob from 
 Muggles] on that interesting occasion on which she could 
 not by any persuasion be induced to speak or utter word ? 
 [Sob from Muggles.] Is it not the place which holds all 
 that is dear to us? No, gentlemen, not all that is dear to 
 us, perhaps " (and here Perkins became rather pink in the 
 face, and sighed, for reasons not altogether unconnected 
 with a young lady, a fraction of whose hair was in a locket 
 which he wore at the end of his watch chain, and was seen 
 to clutch at this juncture), "but, at all events, some part of 
 it. And, gentlemen, the influences of home — just think of 
 them ! " (The thought of them so acutely struck one very 
 young member who was ordered to be home at nine, and 
 who knew that influences of a rather forcible character 
 would follow if he failed to do so, that he made a precipi- 
 tate exit on the spot.) 
 
 "Where is it that in childhood's hour we take the place to 
 be kissed and made well? Where is it that that judicious 
 correction is applied to us wiiich we value so highly in after-
 
 54 OUR DEBATING CLUB. 
 
 life ? [Perkins' father used to thrash him about once a week 
 with a strap until Perkins was quite grown up, so that he 
 had a good stock-in-trade of that kind to value in after-life.] 
 Where is it, if not at home ? Gentlemen, I could say more 
 but I won't; and, with these brief observations, I call on 
 our friend, Mr. George John Ferdinand Augustus Pumpkin, 
 to continue the discussion." 
 
 Perkins sat down amid a respectful murmur of applause, 
 and Mr. G. J. F. A. Pumpkin rose, as requested, to continue 
 the debate. 
 
 The gentleman in question was a youth with pale yellow- 
 ish hair, and a general appearance of having been under a 
 flat-iron at some period of his life. He had no particular 
 features to speak of, and nothing on them which could be 
 tortured into being called an expression. And when he 
 spoke at our debates — which he did on every possible 
 occasion — his remarks could not be strictly described as 
 exciting or original. He always monotoned on one note, 
 and must have made that hard-worked note often long for 
 a change of air. 
 
 "Gentlemen, the subject for this evening is a very beau- 
 tiful one — very beautiful indeed. I think there are few 
 subjects more beautiful, in fact, than the subject for this 
 evening. Home, wherever it may be, whether in the palace 
 or in the humble cabin of the poor, is always home ! I 
 have heard a very beautiful little poem on the subject of 
 home. I don't know whether any of you have ever heard 
 it. It is called ' Home, Sweet Home,' and I will just say 
 the first two lines — 
 
 ' 'Midst pleasures and palaces, wherever we roam, 
 Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home.'
 
 OUR DEBATING CLUB. 55 
 
 I remember, when I was at school" (he had left school 
 about six weeks), " how glad I always was to go home for 
 the holidays. The boys used to call me horrid names, and 
 put stinging nettles in my bed. But Papa and Mamma — at 
 least, I mean, of course, my Governor and Mater — never 
 did that." 
 
 The club was much scandalised at this point by Muggles 
 asking, in a tone of general inquiry distinctly audible all 
 over the room, " \\'Iicn that feller was going to dry up ? " 
 
 Pumpkin heard the remark, and was so overcome that 
 he dried up on the spot — without another word — without 
 the semblance of the ghost of a peroration — and sat down 
 in a more flat-ironed condition than ever, 
 
 A breathless silence prevailed for a few moments — if 
 silence can be called breathless in which breathing is the 
 only sound heard. And in the midst of it, to the profound 
 astonishment of all, an apparition was seen to rise in the 
 person of Muggles.. His hat was still balanced on the 
 extreme back of his head, and he placed his thumbs in his 
 waistcoat in a manner which was distinctly suggestive of 
 easy familiarity. 
 
 " Pm going to make a speech," said he, with a pleasant 
 smile. "I don't know whether it's against the rules and 
 regulations of the establishment, but if any member likes 
 to go and fag up the bye-laws hanging on the wall there, I 
 daresay he'll find it is — and by the time he does, I shall just 
 about have finished." 
 
 Up jumped Grigsby excitedly. " Thilh ith motht iwegular 
 — I protetht againtht it." 
 
 " All right, old chap, protest away. Let's see now ; what 
 was I saying when the gentleman on the right of the head
 
 56. OUR DEBATING CLUB. 
 
 bottle-washer there interrupted me ? — Oh ! I remember, I 
 was just going to remark in a friendly manner " 
 
 " Genf/emen," shouted Perkins, "will you sit still and 
 hear your chairman called a bottle-washer ? Have I come 
 here to meet with insult and approbriation ? " [Perkins 
 meant opprobrium, but he was too excited to mind about 
 terminations.] " I say, gentlemen, that this proceeding 
 is a disgrace and scandal to our club." 
 
 And with that Perkins sat down in his chair with 
 such a bump that he bounced up again like an india- 
 rubber ball, and folded his arms so intensely that they 
 almost went all round his back and came up on the other 
 side. 
 
 No one stirred or spoke. The fact was, that the audacity 
 of the stranger had taken away our self-possession altogether, 
 and he remained the master of the situation. 
 
 " All right, old chap — all right — don't take on so about 
 nothing — I'm not going to hurt you. I was only going to 
 say that in my opinion this debating club beats the House 
 of Commons into fits ; and as for you, old boy " [this to 
 Perkins — the revered Perkins !] " why, you ought to be 
 prime minister and lord high admiral of the fleet. I was 
 very sorry to interrupt that last gentleman's remarks, be- 
 cause there was a sparkling brightness about his observa- 
 tions, and a soothing don't-call-me-till-eight-in-the-morning 
 sort of flow which was very pleasant. But the fact is, he 
 seemed to be rather in the eight-day clock line of business; 
 and as the Lord Chancellor is waiting for me to go and 
 have supper with him, and I wanted to say good evening 
 before I went away, I just cut in. I hope you'll have a 
 very pleasant evening, and that you won't keep your
 
 OUR DEBATING CLUB. 57 
 
 anxious mothers sitting up for you, or forget to let 'em 
 know you're out." 
 
 Muggles here nodded in the most convivial manner to 
 the members generally, and then melted from view, first 
 putting his handkerchief to his eye and afifecting to sob, 
 and then humming the disgraceful tune which had so 
 scandalised the club, so as to leave beyond doubt the 
 insincerity of the one proceeding and the authorship of 
 the other. 
 
 • ••••• 
 
 Before the club broke up that night a vote of censure 
 was passed on the unlucky member who had introduced 
 Muggles as a wolf into the flock, and another amendment 
 was made to our rules, which was posted up conspicuously 
 before the next meeting, and read as follows : — 
 
 "47A. Ihat no one except members of the club, the 
 landlord, and the pot-boy shall be allowed, on any pretence 
 whatever, to enter the room while a debate is pending; 
 and any member who connives at, or aids or abets in, the 
 infringement of this rule shall be expelled with ignominy, 
 or fined one shilling and a penny halfpenny, as shall be 
 decided at a general meeting of the members to be con- 
 vened for that purpose."
 
 ( 58 ) 
 
 AIRS. MOLEBYS FRITTERS. 
 
 "This way, Mr. Pobsy, sir; this way," said Mrs. Moleby, 
 as she conducted the individual in question down the flight 
 of kitchen stairs which led to her sanctum sanctorum. 
 
 Mrs. Moleby kept a lodging-house of comfortable but 
 unpretending aspect in — well, it was not, strictly speaking, 
 the west end of London. Having said that she kept a 
 lodging-house, it is quite superfluous for me to add that 
 Mrs. Moleby was a widow. A lodging-house noi kept by 
 a widow is a falsity, a delusion, a contradiction of terms. 
 
 If Mrs. Moleby had had as many " Backs " and " Fronts " 
 personally as she had when considered in a lodging-house- 
 keeper point of view, she would have been a most curious 
 study for anatomists. Every floor of her establishment was 
 divided and subdivided, and even sub-subdivided amongst 
 different occupants ; and the bells which dotted the front 
 door on either side, and communicated with the rooms 
 occupied by the various inmates, were in number and 
 appearance not unlike the stops of a cathedral organ. 
 How anybody ever contrived to ring the right bell will be 
 matter of mystery to me until the end of time. 
 
 Now Mrs. Moleby was neither old nor ugly. On the 
 contrary, she was a buxom, chubby, circular, apple-faced 
 kind of widow. Moreover, IMrs. Moleby disliked solitude, 
 and she had selected a victim to fill up the gap in her
 
 MRS. MOLEBY'S FRITTERS. 59 
 
 affections occasioned by the untimely demise of tlie late 
 Mr. Moleby. That victim was none other than her front 
 ground-floor lodger, the very INIr. Pobsy to whom the 
 observation with which this veracious chronicle commences 
 was addressed. 
 
 Mr. Pobsy had something to do with gas. In what 
 exact way INIr. Pobsy was professionally connected with 
 gas I do not know ; but there was a peculiar meter-like 
 savour about him calculated to convey the idea that if a 
 lighted candle were to be put very close to him an explosion 
 would probably ensue. 
 
 The heart of Pobsy was an adamantine heart. For two 
 whole years had Mrs. Moleby been laying siege to it with- 
 out any visible result. She had languished in the hall, 
 sighed on the stairs (when she felt quite sure that Mr. 
 Pobsy was within hearing), and dropped on the doorstep. 
 Her love had taken the form of frequent offerings of tripe 
 and bloaters. She had looked demure, and coy, and sad, 
 and beaming, and pensive. In short, she had done every- 
 thing she could possibly think of to secure this man of 
 stone, without the smallest success. 
 
 It had become evident to Mrs. Moleby that only by bold 
 and determined measures could she hope to gain the vic- 
 tory over such an obdurate adversary ; and she had arrived, 
 after much anxious thought, at the conclusion, that if any- 
 thing in this world could kindle in Mr. Pobsy the much- 
 desired flame, it would be a heavy, solid, substantial tea. 
 
 This much prefaced, let us hasten back with all gallant 
 speed to the lady, whom we left rather rudely at the foot of 
 the kitchen stairs. 
 
 " This way, Mr. Pobsy, sir : this way."
 
 6o MRS. MOLEBY'S FRITTERS. 
 
 But Mr. Pobsy, instead of going this way, or that way, 
 or, indeed, any way whatever, stood in a statuesque attitude 
 half-way down the stairs, bereft apparently of all powers of 
 movement. 
 
 He was completely engrossed in the occupation of sniff- 
 ing a grateful odour which ascended towards him and pro- 
 ceeded from Mrs. Moleby's sitting-room. 
 
 " ^Vhy, Mr. Pobsy, wot are you a-doing of? " inquired 
 that lady laughingly, as she stood at the foot of the stairs 
 waiting for her motionless guest to complete his descent. 
 
 " It's fritters — I know it is ! " was Mr. Pobsy's somewhat 
 indirect reply, given in a voice husky with agitation and 
 excitement. 
 
 " Never you mind wot it is, but come along, and then 
 you may find out the truth afore your 'air's grey," rejoined 
 Mrs. Moleby, with a waggish smile. 
 
 Thus adjured Mr. Pobsy came along, and was forthwith 
 conducted by Mrs. Moleby into a room never before trodden 
 by the foot of lodger. 
 
 Such a snug, comfortable little room it was, too. On a 
 bright red little fire was singing a bright brass little kettle, 
 while on a round little table in the middle of the room was 
 spread a "tea," so heavy that the little round table com- 
 plained in querulous creaks of the weight of its unwonted 
 burden. And this was not all, for the top of an earthen- 
 ware dish cover peeped over the fender at Mr. Pobsy with 
 a sly saucy look which said " Take me off" as plainly as if 
 it hadspoken the words. 
 
 " Sit down, Mr. Pobsy, sir, and make yourself at home, 
 pray do," said Mrs. Moleby, as she placed two little arm- 
 chairs before the table. Mr. Pobsy retired into silence and 
 
 I
 
 MRS. MOLEBY'S FRITTERS. 6l 
 
 his allotted chair. His eyes were fixed upon the peeping 
 dish-cover, which he contemplated with a look of deep and 
 affectionate curiosity. 
 
 " Now, Mr. Pobsy, sir ; milk and sugar for you, sir ? " in- 
 quired the widow cheerily, as she poured out two large cups 
 of tea. 
 
 " Yes, Mrs. Moleby, mum ; fritters and sugar ; that is, I 
 mean milk without, if so be as you please," he answered 
 abstractedly. 
 
 " Mr. Pobsy, sir, your meal's afore you, waiting to be eat 
 and drinked ; and all as I says is, 'elp yourself, and spare 
 not the wittles." 
 
 " Thank you kindly, INIrs. IMoleby, mum, which I will ; " 
 and ISIr. Pobsy was in a few minutes transformed into a 
 living mausoleum of buttered toast, poached eggs, and 
 mutton-chops, which he washed down with copious liba- 
 tions of tea. 
 
 He still glanced at intervals towards the peeping dish- 
 cover, and Mrs. Moleby as invariably detected every glance. 
 At length, when he appeared to have laid a sufficiently sub- 
 stantial foundation, she stepped to the fireside and took up 
 the dish, the contents of which had been concealed from 
 Ish: Pobsy's view by the invidious cover. 
 
 " Mr. Pobsy, sir, I think as yon fancied you sniffed 
 fritters as you was a-coming down the stairs ; and won- 
 derful correct your oilfactory organs air, j\rr. Pobsy, sir ; for 
 fritters it is." 
 
 And fritters it was — apple fritters, crisp and delicious as 
 fritters could be. 
 
 Mr, Pobsy's eyes filled with tears. 
 
 "Mrs. Moleby, mum, if there are one thing considered in
 
 62 MRS. MOLEBY'S FRITTERS. 
 
 the light of food which are in my opinion more superior 
 than any other thing, it's fritters." 
 
 Mrs. Moleby beamed with triumph as she filled Mr. 
 Pobsy's plate with a pile of fritters which assumed, for a 
 very short time only, the appearance of a pyramid. 
 
 Mr. Pobsy again relapsed into silence, and for the all- 
 sufficient reason that Mr. Pobsy's mouth was very much too 
 full to admit of even the most indistinct articulation. 
 
 To do justice to the manner in which Mr. Pobsy ex- 
 cavated, and pulled down, and decreased, and finally alto- 
 gether demolished the three successive pyramids of fritters 
 built up on his plate would be impossible. Mrs. Moleby 
 watched him with a smile of inward satisfaction on her 
 jolly visage. After two years of unsuccessful angling, she 
 had accidentally hit upon the right bait, and she saw it. 
 
 All joys terrestrial come to an end sooner or later, and 
 before very long Mr. Pobsy was gazing with one eye upon 
 an empty plate and the other eye upon an empty dish. He 
 sighed deeply. 
 
 " I'm only sorry there ain't no more, Mr. Pobsy, sir ; and 
 I'm sure, if I'd only knowed as you was so fond of 'em, you 
 should 'ave 'ad has many has hever you could heat, that 
 you should. I 'opes as they were done to your fancy ? " 
 
 Mr. Pobsy removed his eyes from plate and dish simul- 
 taneously, and fixed them on Mrs. Moleby's face with a 
 look which threw that excellent widow into a state of the 
 utmost confusion. 
 
 " Be-au-ti-ful !" observed Mr. Pobsy in tones of rapture, 
 after a silence of several moments. Whether he referred to 
 the fritters or herself Mrs. Moleby's fluttering heart could not 
 determine ; but he solved the doubt by adding solemnly — ■
 
 MRS. MOLEBTS FRITTERS. 63 
 
 " Did jou cook 'em ?" 
 
 " Why, la ! yes, Mr. Pobsy, in course I did ; and though 
 I says it from which it didn't hought to come, I should 
 like you to go hout and find me a man, woman, or child 
 on the firmamential globe as can cook liapplc fritters like 
 Betsy Moleby." 
 
 Instead of sallying forth upon the rather vague expedition 
 suggested by Mrs. IMoleby, Mr. Pobsy rose with much 
 gravity and deliberation, and taking up his chair, placed it 
 in direct and unmistakable contiguity to the chair of j\Irs. 
 Moleby. Having done this, Mr, Pobsy, with equal deli- 
 beration, sat down upon it, and solemnly placed his arm 
 round Mrs. Moleby's waist. 
 
 Mrs. Moleby gave a little scream — probably it was the 
 very smallest scream ever heard. 
 
 " Fie ! Mr. Pobsy, Pm shocked— get along with you 
 this minute." 
 
 It would have been somewhat difficult for jNIr. Pobsy to 
 have obeyed this mandate, even had he felt so inclined, for 
 Mrs. Moleby — doubtless overcome by the scandalised state 
 of her feelings — was leaning her full weight upon him in 
 such wise that the smallest movement on his part with a 
 view to " getting along " must have infallibly brought her 
 to the earth. 
 
 But he had evidently no such intention. He sat buried 
 in thought, even as one who would argue inwardly the 
 " pros " and " cons " of some great step in life. 
 
 At last Mr. Pobsy cleared his throat and broke the 
 silence. "You're quite sure as you cooked thcra, Betsy?" 
 he inquired tenderly. 
 
 Mrs. Moleby reiterated her assertion on the subject.
 
 64 MRS. MOLEBYS FRITTERS. 
 
 " Mrs. Moleby — Betsy, I ain't a horator, and I speaks 
 my mind short and blunt. Marry me ! " 
 
 " Oh ! Mr. Pobsy. Well, I never ; 'ow sudden you takes 
 one ; you makes me feel all fluttery up and down like." 
 
 " Yes or no, Betsy ? " said Mr. Pobsy solemnly. 
 
 " Ye — es," she gasped at last. 
 
 The marriage was celebrated very shortly afterwards. 
 Space will not allow me to describe how the bride most 
 becomingly fainted three times without changing colour in 
 the least, and " came to " in the most astonishing manner 
 each time at the precise juncture when it was proposed to 
 throw cold water in her face ; how Mr. Pobsy, thinking he 
 had forgotten the ring, stopped the service in the middle 
 while he went out to buy a new one, and discovered the 
 original in his waistcoat pocket five minutes after his return; 
 and how all parties concerned came back from the church 
 to a most substantial breakfast, whereof an enormous dish 
 of apple fritters w^as the leading feature. 
 
 I cannot, however, refrain from giving the short and 
 piihy speech in which Mr. Pobsy returned thanks for the 
 health of himself and his buxom bride, proposed in a flood 
 of tears by a maternal uncle of Mrs. Moleby. 
 
 " Mr. Gumpy, sir, and friends all, — You does me and 
 Betsy that proud as I cannot name in drinking our two 
 combinated 'ealths so kind and corjal like on this occasion. 
 IMe being a man of few words, and one as don't like a lot 
 of palaver w'ich takes your breath away to say, and don't 
 mean anything when you 'ave said it, I wish to hofifer just 
 this one hobservation, and no more, namely — it was the 
 Fritters as done it ! "
 
 ( 65 ) 
 
 SOLOMON POP KINS. 
 
 There never was such a disagreeable, cantankerous, vine- 
 gary specimen of humanity as Solomon Popkins. He was 
 crusty from the soles of his boots to the roots of his hair; 
 and the baker opposite used to say, that if he could only 
 make his loaves half as crusty as Solomon Popkins' 
 temper, he would be able to retire on a large fortune in 
 six months. 
 
 He was, I need hardly say, a bachelor (particularly 
 sour elderly gentlemen generally are bachelors) ; and all 
 that was known of him in the neighbourhood was, that 
 nothing was known of him at all, save and except that he 
 did not appear to have a single acquaintance, and that he 
 was commonly believed to have given twenty-seven organ 
 men, five hurdy-gurdy boys, and three Punches and Judys 
 into custody for performing in front of his area gate. 
 
 But, one fine day, there happened an event which created 
 an immense excitement in the street, for up to the queer 
 old house in which Solomon Popkins lived there drove a 
 cab, and on the top of that cab was luggage, and inside 
 it was one of the very brightest, merriest, sweetest looking 
 little girls you ever saw. 
 
 Mrs. Johnson put her head out of the second-floor front 
 window of No. 33, and remarked to Mis. Ncwby, who 
 had put her head out of the second- floor front window of
 
 66 SOLOMON POPKINS. 
 
 No. 35, that it took away her breath ; whereto Mrs. Newby 
 replied that she never, never; and many other remarks, 
 equally expressive of astonishment, proceeded from other 
 heads at other windows. 
 
 However, astonishing or not astonishing as it was, the 
 luggage was taken off, and the little girl got out and ran 
 into the hall, the front door of which was opened, in 
 answer to the cabman's ring, by an aged female with one 
 eye, upon the top of whose head were arranged, in military 
 order, some twenty-five ringlets, looking rather like an 
 assemblage of retired corkscrews in needy circumstances. 
 
 And now please, we will pause for one minute, and 
 explain in a few words, how this state of affairs came to 
 pass. The little stranger was the child of a younger and 
 only brother of Solomon. Her father had died when she 
 was an infant, and she had, from the time of her being left 
 an orphan until now, been living with a faithful servant of 
 the family, upon a pittance remitted periodically by Solo- 
 mon, with much grumbling and many threats not to go on 
 supporting another man's brat. 
 
 Now, however, the servant had died, and Solomon had 
 determined to see the child, and make up his mind what 
 to do with her. 
 
 Thus much explained, we will follow our little stranger 
 into the hall. 
 
 "Air you she?" inquired the one-eyed servant. 
 
 " Yes," answered the little girl, looking up at her with 
 an irresistible smile, " I'm little Rosie ; and, please, I'm 
 just come. Who are you ? — you're such a funny-looking 
 old lady!" 
 
 Barbara, Solomon's drudge, was a good-hearted old
 
 SOLOMON rOPKINS. 67 
 
 creature, who, strange to say, had borne his ill-humours 
 for some five-and twenty years without being turned sour 
 herself. She was not in the least offended at this some- 
 what personal remark. 
 
 " Yes ! I ain't beautiful, my dear ; but, la ! I'm a JVenus 
 to he " (pointing to the door of the sitting-room). " He's 
 that hugly, and that rasping, and that disagribble as there 
 ain't no bearing on him. But keep up 'art, little miss, and 
 don't be afear'd." 
 
 With which kindly encouragement Barbara put her dusty 
 old cap very much more on one side of her head than it 
 was before (under the full impression that she was doing 
 just the other thing), and, opening the door of the sitting- 
 room which led out of the hall, remarked to some one 
 inside (while holding her nose, as if instinctively dreading 
 that it might be bitten off), " I say, she's come." 
 
 "Well! didn't I know that? Do you suppose that that 
 luggage has been banging about the hall, and a draught 
 coming in at the door fit to cut my legs off, without my 
 knowing that anything had happened?" 
 
 To add force to this observation, Solomon, who was 
 sitting in an arm-chair by the fire, took off his slippers and 
 threw them at Barbara's head ; but that personage caught 
 them with a business-like air, as if it were quite a matter 
 of course. As, in truth, it was. 
 
 " Show her in," said Solomon ; whereupon Barbara 
 beckoned to the little girl, who was peering about the 
 hall, and standing on tii)toe to see the dititerent articles. 
 Rosie ran into the room, and before Solomon could draw 
 a breath, she climbed on to his knee. 
 
 "You're my uncle Solomon, and I'm Rosie. My nurse
 
 •68 SOLOMON POPKINS. 
 
 used to say that you were very cross, but we mustn't mind 
 it, because you kept us. What makes you so cross ? " 
 
 Solomon Popkins opened his mouth wide with astonish- 
 ment, as well he might. This little thing — this child — 
 to dare 
 
 He put his arms up to thrust her from his lap, and was 
 about to say something violent, when he looked down at 
 the little face peering into his, and — and — somehow or 
 other, he didn't do it. 
 
 Barbara was still standing by the door, but Solomon's 
 eyes happening to rest upon her, he suddenly recovered 
 his presence of mind sufficiently to stretch out his hand 
 and seize a book, which he aimed with great precision at 
 that worthy female, when suddenly Rosie put her little 
 plump, dimpled hands on to his uplifted arm, and pulled at 
 it with all their small might. 
 
 " You mustn't. You mustn't. You mustn't. You 
 naughty uncle ! " 
 
 For the second time Solomon turned his face towards the 
 child in amazement, and seemed about to speak harshly to 
 her; but again two little blue eyes looked up fearlessly 
 into his, and the angry words died away in his throat ; and 
 in another moment Barbara had vanished. 
 
 And so those two were left together — the cross, crusty, 
 hard-grained man, and the little merry, fairy-like child still 
 resting on his knee. 
 
 She was very like his dead brother, too. He began to 
 think of years gone by, ever so long ago — before he shut 
 every kindly feeling out from his heart, and became the 
 morose, sullen, solitary man he now was — when he and 
 that child's father were boys together. 
 
 I
 
 SOLOMON POPKINS. 69 
 
 Suddenly he gave himself a shake, as if the memory 
 were not altogether a satisfactory one to recall. 
 
 "You're taking it very easy, child," he said, addressing 
 her for the first time, and trying to speak in his usual 
 crabbed tones, but with very poor success. " What makes 
 you get on to my lap ? " 
 
 " Oh ! I always used to sit on nurse's lap. Yours isn't 
 as comfortable as hers was, and you don't look kind and 
 sweet, like she did. But she told me that whenever I saw 
 you I was to be good, and try to like you ; so I'm trying. 
 But I don't think I like you very much." 
 
 *' Oh ! you don't think you like me very much — humph 
 — and pray, why's that ? " 
 
 "Because you look cross; just like I used to look when 
 nurse made me stand with my face to the wall, because 
 she said I looked so ugly." 
 
 Solomon coughed and moved about uneasily in his chair, 
 and then he rubbed his nose, and then — yes, then — he 
 absolutely (being the first time on record for fifteen years, 
 three months, eleven days and one hour) broke out into 
 a smile. Such a smile too. His face was so unused to 
 the operation that it moved up and down in all sorts of 
 unexpected directions, as if suffering from an internal 
 earthquake. 
 
 Little Rosie, seeing Solomon smile, gave a little laugh ; 
 and as Solomon went on smiling, she gave another litde 
 laugh, and then several more little laughs, until the room 
 rang with her silvery peals of merriment. 
 
 Now, it is a well-known fact that laufrhter is contagious, 
 more especially some kinds of laughter ; and little Rosie's 
 was uncommonly catching.
 
 70 SOLOMON POPKINS. 
 
 So much so that there suddenly came from Solomon 
 Popkins' hps a sound as if a large assemblage of rusty 
 keys were clanging against each other. Which meant that 
 Solomon Popkins was laughing too ! 
 
 "Now you're a nice uncle; and if you will always laugh 
 like that, I'll — Pil love you — ever so much, too; quite looo 
 yards." 
 
 Now the notion of being loved at all, much less of being 
 loved looo yards, was a complete novelty to crusty Solomon 
 Popkins ; and not only was it new, but there was something 
 so amazingly pleasant about it that he stopped to say — 
 
 "No ! will you, though?" And then he went on laugh- 
 ing for several minutes more. 
 
 All of a sudden an idea struck him. 
 
 " Have you had anything to eat since breakfast, child ? " 
 
 " No, I haven't ; and I'm very hungry," answered Rosie 
 candidly. 
 
 " Of course you are — I knew you were," and off darted 
 Solomon to the bell and pulled at it till Barbara thought, 
 as she ran up from the kitchen, that the first-floor must be 
 on fire and burglars in the parlour, at the very least. 
 
 But tvheii she came into the room and saw little Rosie 
 as happy as possible, and Solomon smiling with all his 
 might — well ! when she saw this her very ringlets stood 
 upright with astonishment. But before she could speak 
 Solomon broke out — • 
 
 "Here! run out immediately and get looo yards of 
 Banbury cakes and three penn'orth of love; no, I mean 
 five shillingsworth of Banbury cakes and three shillings- 
 worth of biscuits, and meat, and puddings, and sweetmeats, 
 and oysters, and baked potatoes, and everything else you
 
 SOLOMON POPKINS. 71 
 
 can get. The child's starving; ain"t you, my dear?" he 
 added, turning to Rosie. 
 
 "I'm very often hungry," returned that outspoken little 
 lady, "but I don't want to eat quite all that; so please 
 don't tell the funny-looking old lady to get so many 
 things." 
 
 The idea of the venerable Barbara's being called a funny 
 old lady brought the rusty keys into full operation again, 
 and Solomon laughed till the tears ran down his face. 
 
 " Mussy ! " ejaculated Barbara. " Why, I ain't seen you 
 laugh like that, master, not since I come ! " 
 
 " Ho ! " said Solomon, trying hard to recall his usual 
 expression of face, and looking about for something heavy 
 and sharp to throw at Barbara. "What do you mean, you 
 witch? I haven't been laughing now." 
 
 "Oh! fie," said little Rosie ; "oh! you good-for-nothing 
 story ! Nurse used to say it was very wicked to tell stories, 
 and you're ?fmc/i older than I am." 
 
 Solomon looked down at the child. " Umph ! Well, I 
 suppose I am a little older than you ; but somehow I don't 
 feel quite so old as I did when you came." 
 
 " Oh ! then you go on getting younger till you're the 
 same age as I am, and then we'll play at 'dab-dab.' /'// 
 teach you, if you don't know it." 
 
 Solomon Popkins playing dab-dab ! Why didn't the 
 queer old house tumble down ? Well, I don't know — Init 
 it didn't. And five minutes later, while Barbara was out 
 buying all sorts of good things, Solomon Popkins — cross, 
 crusty, vinegary Solomon Popkins — was sitting with the 
 child still on his knee, trying with all his might to learn the 
 mysteries of dab-dab.
 
 =;2 SOLOMON POPKINS. 
 
 And then, not long afterwards, in came Barbara with her 
 purchases — some in one pocket and some in another, and 
 some in her hands, and some in her arms — so loaded and 
 puffed out that it was difficult to tell what was Barbara and 
 what was parcels. 
 
 Solomon wouldn't eat anything. He said that he wanted 
 to see Rosie have a good meal all to herself; so he placed 
 the child in a chair at the table, and hovered about her. 
 
 " Now, we'll make believe that we're playing at being 
 grand people. I'm the grand lady and you're the footman, 
 and when I want anything I'll knock on the table, and you 
 must say, ' Yes, my lady.' " 
 
 Solomon was simply delighted. He ran about to fetch 
 the different things that Rosie knocked for; and I am 
 bound to tell you that that small personage knocked on the 
 table very often indeed. I don't know whether grand ladies 
 eat a great deal in a general way, but this particular one 
 certainly did make a most uncommonly good dinner. 
 
 And when it was at length over they played again for a 
 little time ; and then the child grew tired and sleepy. 
 
 " Now, please, I should like the funny old lady to put me 
 to bed. When I'm in bed I shall pretend she's a bogey, 
 and scream." 
 
 So Barbara was summoned again, and little Rosie 
 marched off after kissing Uncle Solomon, and telling him 
 that she loved him ^^5000, which was a very respectable 
 figure, and quite as satisfactory as 1000 yards. 
 
 Solomon sat on his chair after the child had left him, with 
 a new and softened expression on his face, from, which 
 indeed nearly all the hard lines seemed to have vanished as 
 if by a magic touch. And he thought to himself —
 
 SOLOMON POPKINS. 7^ 
 
 "Here have I been all these years wasting my time and 
 opportunities, and making myself and everybody about me 
 miserable. I never knew till this child came — because, 
 since I shut myself up here, I never tried to know — how 
 enjoyable it is to be cheerful and pleasant and kind to 
 others. Solomon Popkins, sir, you have been a grumpy, 
 cantankerous old nuisance. But it's not too late — it's not 
 too late." 
 
 And it wasn't too late. In two days he had ceased 
 entirely to throw his slippers at Barbara ; another week, 
 and he sat and listened to a hurdy-gurdy without rushing 
 out and giving either the hurdy-gurdy or the boy who 
 played it into custody. And so things went on, until, to 
 cut a long story short, Solomon Popkins became the most 
 popular man in the whole street. And the last time I 
 passed that way I heard Mrs. Johnson observe to ]\Irs. 
 Newby, that that blessed child had been and turned Solomon 
 Popkins inside out, and made him one of the benevolentest 
 men as ever was. 
 
 Twould be an insult and an idle task 
 If I were, in this cheerful room, to ask, 
 "Whether amidst you there's a sullen form — 
 A person given to sulk, and stamp, and storm. 
 You look too pleasant ; and to me it's clear 
 If you were sulky — why, you wouldn't be here 1 
 Still, if you hap to know, otitsiile this place, 
 A vinegary, sullen, crusty face, 
 Just tell the owner that he's sadly needing; 
 To come some evening to a " Penny Reading ; " 
 For here we'll teach that person in two-two's 
 To cure his melancholy sulks and blues ; 
 No longer by the fire to sit and spin, 
 Or take a cup and call his neiL^hbours in, 
 Like nursery cross-patch ; but with spirits gay 
 To laugh and sing, and "dab-dab" oft to play.
 
 ( 74 ) 
 
 ON THE 10™ INSTANT. 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 ]Mr. Skipwash was without exception the most confirmed, 
 inveterate, unmistakable bachelor you ever saw. Dynas- 
 ties might topple over, countries might go to war, the 
 Lord Mayor might journey to Westminster on the yth of 
 November in a hansom cab drawn by one of Sangers' 
 elephants, with Mr. Remembrancer sitting on the roof and 
 balancing the mace of office on his nose, anything and 
 everything remarkable or unexpected might happen — but 
 — Mr. Skipwash would never marry. 
 
 He had not had what is commonly called a disappoint- 
 ment. He had simply come to the conclusion, after calm 
 deliberation, that he preferred single blessedness ; and for 
 eight-and-thirty years he had adhered to that conclusion, 
 that is to say, assuming (which I believe to have been the 
 case) that he began to come to it immediately after he was 
 born. 
 
 Mr. Skipwash held a responsible position at the bank of 
 Messrs. Slumpy, Hardcash and Slumpy, in Lombard Street, 
 and he lived in lodgings at Kennington. He had selected 
 these lodgings because he considered that Kennington 
 combined all the advantages of the country with none of its
 
 ON THE 10^^ INSTANT. 75 
 
 drawbacks, and he had remained in them for many years. 
 In all his habits he was punctuality and method itself. He 
 went to business every morning by the same omnibus at the 
 same time ; he parted his hair regularly at the same time, 
 and in the same place, with the same comb ; he had his 
 boots placed in a particular corner of his sitting-room every 
 day ; he had a bronze young gentleman on one side of the 
 mantelpiece, and a bronze young lady on the other, and he 
 invariably adjusted them so that they looked at each other 
 at precisely the same angle, and had no opportunity of 
 becoming more intimate ; he ate the same mutton chop at 
 breakfast day after day — at least no, of course I don't mean 
 that — I mean that he always ate just the same sort of mutton 
 chop, and drank just the same sort of cup of tea, and 
 finished breakfast with just the same sort of slice of toast 
 and marmalade. 
 
 Indeed, I verily believe that if any part of Mr. Skipwash's 
 daily machinery had gone wrong, the whole apparatus would 
 have got mixed up in wild confusion. If he had not found 
 the comb to part his hair with, my impression is that he 
 would have gone distractedly to his boots, as coming next 
 in order, and that he would then have endeavoured to drink 
 his mutton chop, and eat his cup of tea, and brush his over- 
 coat with his piece of toast and marmalade, and generally 
 get into a state of inextricable complications ; and I am not 
 at all sure that the whole proceeding might not have been 
 wound up by the bronze young gentleman and the bronze 
 young lady, in defiance of all precedent, advancing solemnly 
 to each other across the mantelpiece and indulging in a 
 cordial embrace. 
 
 There was, however, running through the method and
 
 76 ON THE 10^" INSTANT. 
 
 regularity of Mr. Skipwash's life one great absorbing passion 
 which lighted up the even tenor — or perhaps, in his case, I 
 might more correctly say baritone — of his way, and that was 
 an intense love for music. He had a beautiful piano of his 
 own at his lodgings, on which he played incessantly in every 
 leisure hour which he did not spend at a concert, or opera, 
 or oratorio, or musical entertainment of some kind. He 
 was also an expert performer on the French horn ; but the 
 people next door had threatened to indict him for a nuisance, 
 in consequence of his having, in the consummation of a 
 most brilliant piece, thrown a teething baby into convulsions; 
 and so he was obliged to confine his operations on that 
 instrument to an occasional nocturnal expedition into Ken- 
 nington Park, from whence, in that event, sounds as of a 
 buffalo in distress were faintly heard in the distance, to the 
 wonderment and professional indignation of Policeman X i. 
 The floor which Mr. Skipwash occupied was the first-floor. 
 The ground-floor was also let in lodgings, but Mr. Skipwash, 
 who was a reserved, self-contained man, had never con- 
 cerned himself about the tenant thereof; and beyond a dim 
 consciousness of the happening of something unusual, arising 
 from the fact that he tumbled over a large box one morning 
 as he sallied out, and barked his shins against another large 
 box when he came home the same evening, he did not even 
 know that there had, at the time from which my story is 
 taken, been a recent change of inmates.
 
 ON THE 10'^'^ INSTANT. 77 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 "I SHALL not be home until late this evening, INIrs. 
 Gammon ; I'm going to a concert. You know what I 
 should like when I come home — nine oysters, a pint of 
 stout, and some brown bread and butter." 
 
 " Law ! bless you, yes, sir ; of course I know. I allers 
 says as you hare the most reg'lar and least-trouble-givingest 
 gentleman as hever I knowed. Nine hoysters hafter a 
 concert, twelve hafter a horatorio, and fifteen hafter a 
 hopera, and brown bread and butter in amount according. 
 Halways the same, sir, and likewise never varying 'cept 
 when hoysters is hout, and then you 'as winkles. I some- 
 times think, sir, as if hoysters was to fail and musink to 
 bust, you'd never 'old up your 'ead again." 
 
 " Pray don't suggest anything so exceedingly dreadful, 
 Mrs. Gammon," answered Mr. Skipwash with a shudder, as 
 he hurried out to meet the advancing omnibus. 
 
 Now the concert to which Mr. Skipwash went that 
 evening was a concert got up by Signor Gulielmo Smithi 
 (known to a few familiar friends who were in the secret as 
 Billy Smith) ; and Signor Smithi, having got it up, felt 
 fairly entitled to monopolise nearly all the solo?, to take a 
 large slice out of the duets, and to divide the honours in 
 the trios and quartettes — insomuch that there was scarcely 
 an item in the programme in which the name of Signor 
 Smithi was not to be found. But, alas ! on the very day of 
 the concert the signor caught a violent cold, and the result 
 was that when the evening came his voice (if you shut your 
 eyes) sounded very much as if he had got into bed and was 
 sinking from under the blankets.
 
 78 ON THE 10™ INSTANT. 
 
 Mr. Skipwash, who had a most acute ear, listened 
 patiently to a muffled solo from Signor Smithi, and then 
 less patiently to a duet in which Signor Smithi seemed to 
 be more covered up than ever, and to have thrust his head 
 under the mattress — and then Mr. Skipwash, unable to 
 endure it any longer, rushed out and made wildly for home, 
 with intent to console himself at the piano. 
 
 When he reached the house he beheld, to his astonish- 
 ment, a bright light in his sitting-room, and sounds of music, 
 which appeared to proceed from his own piano, were borne 
 in upon his ear — soft, sweet, pathetic music, played with a 
 touch such as is given to only a favoured few. He paused 
 in blank amazement. Who on earth could it be ? It could 
 not possibly be Mrs. Gammon. It could not possibly be 
 Mrs. Gammon's general servant. It could not possibly be 
 Mrs. Gammon's baby. He stood and listened in a trance 
 of delight for many mmutes — until, in fact, he became 
 aware that he was nearly freezing with the cold — and then, 
 softly turning the key, he went in and crept upstairs to his 
 room. He opened the door, and behold, there met his 
 view a young and pretty lady, dressed in deep mourning, 
 who was seated at his piano. She started as the door 
 opened, and, seeing Mr. Skipwash, blushed crimson, and 
 stammering a hasty apology, fled from the room before he 
 could utter a word. 
 
 INIr. Skipwash sank into a chair, and gave himself up to 
 a state of vacant astonishment, from which he was roused 
 by the entrance of Mrs. Gammon, who seemed dubious as 
 to her reception, and hung her head down at an angle of 
 forty-five degrees. 
 
 "Hi'm sure, sir, if I W but knowed as you would have
 
 ON THE W^" INSTANT. 79 
 
 been 'ome so hearly, it wouldn't 'ave 'appened. The fack 
 is, as the poor young lady — which 'er name is Seaford, and 
 I nussed 'er when a hinfant — 'as come 'ere to lodge becos 
 she's a giving musink lessons in consequence of the death of 
 'er par, as died penniless, and 'er being fond of musink, 
 and 'aving 'ad to part with 'er hown piano in consequence 
 of the beef-tea as was required for 'er par in 'is last 
 moments — she hasked me whether I thought it would give 
 hoffence if she was just for to play a toon sometimes when 
 you was away, and I " [here Mrs. Gammon's voice began to 
 tremble with emotion], " foolish-like, says ' Yes,' which I can 
 only arx pardon for the liberty " [here Mrs. Gammon broke 
 down altogether], "hand 'ope as you'll look hover it on 
 account of sich a thing never 'aving 'appened previous." 
 
 Mrs. Gammon signified her emotion at the end of the 
 peroration to her speech by throwing her apron all over 
 her head, and sobbing underneath it. 
 
 " Mrs. Gammon, no apology is necessary ; the young 
 lady is welcome to play on my piano whenever she pleases ; 
 and you may tell her so with my compliments." 
 
 Mrs. Gammon, overjoyed to find that she had not 
 offended a person so important to her financial welfare 
 as Mr. Skipwash, came out from under the apron with a 
 bob, and proceeded to impart to that gentleman various 
 particulars concerning Miss Seaford, to all of which he 
 listened with attention. And then she retired to give the 
 young lady his gracious message. 
 
 " What a singularly beautiful touch," murmured Wx. 
 Skipwash, as he slowly took a boot ofi". " ^Vhat taste, 
 what expression, what exquisite execution ! One of my 
 most favourite pieces, too ! How well she must have
 
 So ON THE W^" INSTANT. 
 
 been taught, and what a soul for music she must have ! 
 Obliged, too, to earn a living by giving music lessons ! 
 Poor thing ! poor thing ! " 
 
 Mr. Skipwash's reflections were so engrossing that he 
 not only forgot to take his other boot off, but he delibe- 
 rately put on again the one that he had taken off, being 
 apparently under the impression that, as the proceeding 
 represented two operations with a boot, it came to the 
 same thing. And when Mrs. Gammon presently brought 
 in his supper, she found him so buried in thought that he 
 didn't observe her entrance, and started violently when he 
 saw her. 
 
 Another curious occurrence was, that Mr. Skipwash 
 couldn't eat the nine oysters and the brown bread and 
 butter, or drink the pint of stout. He looked at them, and 
 circled round them, and made pecks at them like a bird ; 
 but he had not the ghost of an appetite, and at last he 
 pushed the tray away and gave it up. 
 
 He liad been through life one of those people with 
 whom the act of getting into bed means the act of going 
 to sleep until it is time to rise next morning, and who 
 come down to breakfast and tell you of the fact in a brag- 
 ging tone, when you have been tossing about nearly all 
 night, perhaps, until you felt as if the bed had entered 
 into a conspiracy against you, and have only fallen into a 
 deep and peaceful sleep twenty minutes before you have to 
 get up. 
 
 But he couldn't sleep for hours that night. He turned 
 over and over like an animated rolling-pin — and he kicked 
 the clothes about — and he sat up and shook the pillow, as 
 if it were a refractory baby — and he turned down the
 
 ON THE 10™ INSTANT. 8l 
 
 counterpane because it was too hot, and about two min- 
 utes afterwards he pulled it up again because it was too 
 cold — all without avail. And at length when he did go to 
 sleep he dreamt that the young lady in black came into his 
 sitting-room and got on the top of the piano and rode off 
 with it like a witch, playing a beautiful tune on it with her 
 two feet as she vanished — and he dreamt that he rushed 
 after her and tried to stop her flight and implore her to 
 remain — and he woke up to find that the dull light of a 
 November morning was just sulkily beginning to enter the 
 room, and that he was conscious of having had a particu- 
 larly bad night of it. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " Mrs. Gammon, I — I — don't at all expect to be home 
 this evening, and — and — if the young lady downstairs 
 would like to come up and play the piano, pray say that 
 I shall be very gleased and plad — I mean pleased and 
 glad." 
 
 " Thank you, sir. I'm sure it's wery kind of you — but, 
 law ! sir, I'm afraid you ain't well ! I never knowcd you 
 to fail at hoysters afore last night ; and when I see 'cm on 
 the plate this morning, a lookin' quite ashamed of them- 
 selves, you might a knocked me down with a 'airpin. And, 
 has for breakfast, wy, you ain't eaten scarcely a mussel." 
 
 " I'm quite well, thank you, Mrs. Gammon. At least, 
 very nearly so. At least — thank you ; yes. You won't 
 forget my message, please." 
 
 Mr. Skipwash started off hurriedly, as if anxious to close
 
 82 ON THE 10™ INSTANT. 
 
 the conversation, and his obviously flurried manner, coupled 
 with his loss of appetite, so filled Mrs. Gammon with alarm 
 that she followed him anxiously with her eyes, and wagged 
 her head at intervals, like a depressed pendulum. 
 
 Mr. Skipwash's business suffered that day. He couldn't 
 concentrate his attention on it. Figures got mixed up 
 with the young lady in black, and he found himself multi- 
 plying her by ten, and dividing the result by the piano ; 
 and whenever he thought that he really had settled down 
 to work, and would stick to it like wax, he was suddenly 
 seized with a violent inclination to write " Miss Seaford " 
 on his blotting-paper, and his writing-paper, and his 
 envelopes, and the smooth wooden edges of his table, 
 insomuch that Miss Seaford's name seemed to be indi- 
 genous to the soil, and to sprout up in all directions. 
 
 Now, when Ivlr. Skipwash had no evening engagement, 
 it was his wont to go home to tea. He did not go home 
 to tea on this particular evening, and yet, for the life of 
 me, I can't think that he had an evening engagement. If 
 he had, he most certainly didn't know where it was ; for 
 when he left the Bank he wandered about for quite two 
 hours, turning indiscriminately to the right or the left, 
 coming back by devious routes to points from which he 
 had made a start, and seeming to have no fixity of purpose 
 whatever, until eight o'clock struck, when he suddenly 
 made for the direction of Kennington, and went straight 
 to his lodgings. 
 
 The light was in the window of his room, as before — the 
 sound of the piano was wafted to his ear, as before — he 
 stood and listened outside till he nearly froze, as before — 
 he turned the key softly, crept upstairs, and opened his 
 
 I
 
 ON THE 10^^ INSTANT. 83 
 
 door, as before — the young lady rose up confused, as before 
 — she was about to escape, as before— but, not as before, 
 Mr. Skipwash arrested her progress, and begged her to 
 pardon the liberty he took in asking her whether she would 
 mind please going on playing, and said it would delight him 
 above all things, and told her that he passionately loved — 
 music. And the young lady did play — and then Mr. Skip- 
 wash sang a song, which she shyly accompanied — and then 
 she played again — and then she accompanied Mr. Skipwash 
 in another song, not quite so shyly as before — and then 
 they played a duet, in Avhich Mr. Skipwash's hands in the 
 bass notes showed a tendency to get unaccountably mixed 
 up with Miss Seaford's hands in the treble notes — and the 
 time passed like lightning AN'D 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 "On the loth instant, at St. Mary's. Kcnnington, by the 
 Reverend James Tootle, M.A., vicar of Little Slappum, 
 Sussex (second cousin, three times removed, of the bride- 
 groom), assisted by the Reverend Orlwerk-Nopay, curate 
 of St. Mary's, Ebenezer Skipwash, chief cashier to Messrs. 
 Slumpy, Hardcash and Slumpy, of Lombard Street, to 
 Mary Seaford, only daughter of the late Captain Seaford. 
 No cards. Friends will please accept this melancholy 
 intimation."
 
 ( 84 ) 
 
 TWELVE INSIDE AND FOURTEEN OUT. 
 
 I LIVE at a considerable distance from the scene of my 
 labours, and it has been my habit for many years to betake 
 myself thither by an omnibus. For a long time I rode 
 inside, partly because I much doubted my ability to climb 
 up on to the roof, and partly because I entertained a very 
 serious apprehension that, if I ever succeeded in com- 
 pleting the ascent in question, I should experience diffi- 
 culty in getting down again. 
 
 Indeed, I should in all probability have remained an 
 inside passenger to the end of my days but for my con- 
 ductor, who — observing me one day to be wistfully gazing 
 from my accustomed seat in the corner at a pair of legs 
 which provokingly dangled before my view for a moment 
 and then rapidly disappeared in an upward direction — 
 volunteered the information, in tones of husky emphasis, 
 that it was as " heasy as nothink." • 
 
 This classic piece of encouragement so fired my breast 
 that I stood the conductor a liberal modicum of whisky- 
 and- water at the very next halting-place, and found myself 
 on the following morning gazing proudly from a positively 
 giddy height at the foot-passengers in Oxford Street. 
 
 I very soon became a regular outside traveller. I de- 
 veloped into such an accomplished climber, that I would 
 purposely allow the omnibus to get a little in front of me
 
 TWELVE INSIDE AND FOURTEEN OUT. 85 
 
 in order that I might run after it, and clamber hghtly on 
 to its summit while it continued in full motion. It is 
 needless to add that I never did this without first looking 
 round and ascertaining that I could not fail to be seen by 
 several people. 
 
 I look back upon those days with some contempt now 
 — now, when I dexterously catch hold of a hanging leather 
 strap, put one foot on a wheel, give a hop, skip, and jump, 
 and find myself forthwith seated on the box — now, when I 
 distinctly know the "near" side as distinguished from the 
 "off" side, and am so familiar with our driver that I hesi- 
 tate not to call him "Tom," utterly regardless of any 
 name which might have been originally bestowed upon 
 him at his baptism. 
 
 I have an immense respect for that last-mentioned per- 
 sonage ; I always sit on his right hand, and supply him 
 regularly with cigars. {Affm. — Omnibus drivers seldom 
 descend to the inexpensive and modest pipe.) He is by 
 far the most profound man I know. He seldom speaks, 
 but thinks immensely ; and there is a depth of intellect in 
 his purple face when he emphasises some pithy observation 
 by nodding in my direction which awes me greatly. He 
 is well up in sporting matters, and often indulges in a 
 sibylline prophecy as to the result of a coming race. He 
 never drives, even in the very heigiit of summer, without 
 divers voluminous wraps and aprons. He is very particular 
 about his collar and tie (the latter fastened with a horse- 
 shoe pin), which are a pattern of neatness, and he would 
 not permit the vestige of a hair to luxuriate under his chin 
 for worlds. 
 
 I respect the conductor very much too, but not quite in
 
 86 TWELVE INSIDE AND FOURTEEN OUT. 
 
 the same way. The driver is a fixed immovable object of 
 regard, but the conductor is never still for an instant. One 
 minute he will be propelling a very fat man into the omni- 
 bus, the next he will be dragging an equally fat man out of 
 it. As he stands on his little pedestal, he sweeps the street 
 on either side with unerring eye, and never misses a fare by 
 any chance. Inasmuch as he is not allowed to sit down 
 for five minutes himself from morning till night (more shame, 
 say I), he naturally cares not one iota for the comfort of his 
 passengers ; and having once put them inside or outside, as 
 the case may be, his part is done, and they may gain a 
 seat as best they can. He always divines, as if by instinct, 
 the exact coin which you are going to place in his hands, 
 and has the change for it ready before you pay him. He is 
 withal a civil, merry fellow, and in the repartee peculiar to 
 his class incomparable. 
 
 Life is full of trials, but, in a small way, I know of none 
 more sore than that of getting inside an omnibus when it is 
 full. The conductor having pushed you in and shut the 
 door on you, the omnibus goes on with a sudden jerk which 
 very nearly throws you on to your back. Convulsively grasp- 
 ing the roof, you regain your feet and look round with 
 the view of sitting down somewhere. The passengers one 
 and all scowl at you fiercely, and completely fill up between 
 them the one foot square of space to which, in theory, you 
 are entitled. People, people everywhere, but not a single 
 seat ! You continue to stand there, still clinging wildly to 
 the roof — nobody moves an inch — your head begins to 
 swim, and you speculate confusedly upon the precise knee 
 on which it will come when you fall exhausted. Getting at 
 length desperate, you sit down indiscriminately upon the
 
 TWELVE INSIDE AND FOURTEEN OUT. Sj 
 
 two nearest passengers, who, grumbling mightily, yield to 
 the pressure, and enable you to descend between them, 
 with a gradual and measured movement, to the cushion. 
 The oddest thing is, that when you have thus gained a seat, 
 no one in the omnibus glares more fiercely at the next help- 
 less incomer than yourself. 
 
 I often derived a great deal of amusement, in the days 
 when I rode inside an omnibus, from studying the charac- 
 teristics of my fellow-passengers. Just opposite to me there 
 used to sit every morning one of the very fattest and most 
 benignant old gentlemen I ever saw. It was a iicrfect treat 
 to watch that man. He took a delight in gallantly helping 
 a lady into the omnibus, and would insist upon taking her 
 child on his lap and holding all her parcels until she was 
 seated. If some unfortunate being in the very inmost re- 
 cesses of the omnibus looked hopelessly at the door, as if he 
 would very much like to be set down, but did not see the 
 smallest prospect of attaining his desire, this dear old fellow 
 always caught his glance, and began forthwith to smite the 
 conductor violently with his umbrella, upon which the con- 
 ductor gave a sort of yell at the back of the driver's head, 
 and then the omnibus stopped. I made great friends with 
 the old gentleman, and always felt the better for a look at 
 his jolly, good-humoured visage. 
 
 How often I have come across the bony, middle-aged 
 female, who gets periodically into an omnibus with enough 
 parcels and paraphernalia to stock a luggage-train, who re- 
 quests everybody to take most particular notice of the fact 
 that she desires to be put down at the corner of Johnson 
 vStreet, and that she shall write a letter to the secretary and 
 all the directors of the omnibus company, as well as to the
 
 88 TWELVE INSIDE AND FOURTEEN OUT. 
 
 leading newspapers of the day, if she is carried on to Mum- 
 ford Street instead. 
 
 Almost as familiar to me is the highly objectionable 
 omnibus-child, who points its fingers straight at you, and 
 asks its mamma in a shrill treble voice (which is distinctly 
 heard above the rattle of the wheels) " Why that man has 
 such a funny nose ? " who eats oranges with a perfect dis- 
 regard for the ultimate destination of the peel, and, when 
 tired, fidgets until you are nearly mad and squeals until 
 you are quite deaf. 
 
 I know so well, too, the choleric and nervous old lady 
 who travels by omnibus. She always loses her purse 
 immediately she gets in, and, after rooting up all the straw 
 in the omnibus, and thereby making everybody supremely 
 uncomfortable, finds it in her pocket. Every street we pass 
 from the commencement of our journey is her street — she 
 knows it is. When her street really does arrive, and she is 
 about to get out, she is seized with a sudden conviction, of 
 which nothing but a second uprooting of straw can disabuse 
 her mind, that she has left something behind. 
 
 Then there is the chirpy, talkative man, who plunges 
 into conversation the moment he gets into the omnibus ; 
 and there is also the sullen, saturnine man, who repels the 
 overtures of the chirpy, talkative man. Many a time, too, 
 I have seen the pale, worn little sempstress who is obliged 
 to spend a large portion of her scanty pittance in riding to 
 or from the scene of her long daily labours ; and, next to 
 her, the bilious-looking clerk who, shut up in an office all 
 day, is too lazy to embrace an opportunity of getting the 
 fresh air and exercise afforded by a walk. 
 
 Many such odd associations has the omnibus for me,
 
 TWELVE INSIDE AND FOURTEEN OUT. S9 
 
 and for all who take an interest in the genus homo. But 
 woe unto thee, my sometimes crazy, often overladen, and 
 always uncomfortable friend ! For thy glory is waning, and 
 in dreams I have seen thy driver piloting a train on the 
 Metropolitan Railway, and thy conductor acting as guard, 
 and astonishing the public by requesting them to get up on 
 the near side.
 
 ( 90 ) 
 
 MR. SMITH'S BRIEF. 
 
 Mr. Demetrius Smith was thirty-six years old, and he had 
 been called to the bar ten years. 
 
 I don't know who it was that called him, but I can't say 
 much for the person's manners ; for, although Mr. Smith 
 had answered the summons with great alacrity, and had pre- 
 sented himself in a brand-new wig and gown, he had been 
 waiting ever since to know what he was called for, without 
 receiving any sort of intimation on the subject 
 
 Mr. Smith had not expected anything very great, for he 
 was aware of the circumstance that gentlemen called to the 
 bar usually remain in legal longclothes for several years, 
 that when the hair is just tinged with grey they are pro- 
 moted to the knickerbocker stage, and that when middle 
 age is fairly reached they begin to be regarded as grown-up 
 young fellows, who know what they are talking about. Mr. 
 Smith, I say, knew all this ; and he was not very ambitious, 
 and he was not at all poor, but still he would have dearly 
 liked to see his name on one brief. 
 
 He had chambers in New Square, Lincoln's Inn, and, as 
 he used to sit there, he would wonder whether, when that 
 first brief came, his name would appear thereon as plain 
 " Mr. Smith," or as " Mr. D. Smith," or as " Mr. Dem. 
 Smith," or, perchance, in all its glory, the full-blown title, 
 " ]Mr, Demetrius Smith." He kept a boy in a little ante-
 
 MR. SMITH'S BRIEF. 91 
 
 room which measured four feet by six, and had a large stove 
 in the middle, and he had kept that bo\-, and other boys be- 
 fore him (who had all been called Henry by IMr. Smith, and 
 had succeeded each other like the kings of England), for 
 all these ten years, at salaries varying between five shillings 
 and seven shillings and sixpence a week, for the express 
 purpose of taking in that first brief. Owing to the forcing 
 properties of the atmosphere in which they sat, several boys, 
 who had gone there smooth-faced, had left bushy-whiskered 
 without accomplishing this end. 
 
 But now it had come. I say it had come. It had been 
 left by a solicitor's clerk, and the boy Henry the Eighth 
 had taken it in. He was so frightened when he opened the 
 door and saw it that he turned quite pale. He knocked at 
 Mr. Smith's door. 
 
 " Come in," said Mr. Smith. 
 
 The boy went in, holding it up, and said — • 
 
 " Oh, hif you please, Sir, yer's a brief." 
 
 " A what ? " shouted Mr. Smith, jumping up as if he had 
 been shot. 
 
 "A brief, Sir — a reg'lar brief, like I see the gents in 
 court 'ave." 
 
 " Give it me ! " said Mr. Smith, and he snatched it out 
 of the boy's hands in a state of wild excitement. 
 
 It was not a very bulky brief. There was only one sheet, 
 and it had nothing written inside ; but on the outside was 
 an intimation that Mr. I). Smith was requested to appear 
 for somebody in one of the Courts of Chancery on Friday 
 next, and say that that particular somebody was quite 
 agreeable to something which somebody else wanted to 
 do, his principal reason appearing to be that it could not,
 
 92 MR. SMITH'S BRIEF. 
 
 under any circumstances, make the least difference to him 
 whether it were done or not. Mr, Smith had seen several 
 other barristers hold these briefs. He had noticed them 
 rise up from all sorts of unexpected corners, and say, " I- 
 appear- Millud - for- the - defendant -Jane - Pump- and- 1- am- in- 
 structed-to-consent-to-an- order- and -to-ask-that-my-client's- 
 costs-may-be-provided-for-I-believe-my-learned-friend-does- 
 not-object-to-this-'f-your-lordship-pleases." 
 
 And then he had seen them bob their heads, as if they 
 were suddenly seized with a conviction that the judge 
 couldn't be happy until he had inspected the crowns of 
 their wigs, and then subside. 
 
 And now he was to do it himself on Friday next. He, 
 Demetrius Smith, was to appear for the defendant, Timothy 
 Noodles, and make that exciting observation on behalf of 
 the said Timothy Noodles, and bob his own wig before 
 a lot of people. It was only Tuesday yet, but he sallied 
 out in his wig and gown, brief in hand, and went into 
 all the courts ; and then he went back and practised his 
 part in different voices, to see which would sound best. 
 Thus — {deej> bass) "Millud, I appear for the defendant, 
 Timothy Noodles ; " {rich baritone) " Millud, I appear 
 for the defendant, Timothy Noodles ; " {melodious tenor) 
 " Millud, I appear for the defendant, Timothy Noodles." 
 
 And then he placed himself before the glass, and bobbed 
 his head about 250 times, until he felt quite certain that 
 he had got a very bad headache, and nearly certain that 
 he had learnt the right sort of bob ; and then he sat down 
 and wrote the following letter : —
 
 MR. SMITH'S BRIEF. 93 
 
 "61 New Square. 
 " My dear Mr. Topper, — It has come ! I have got a 
 brief; and I feel that the way is at last opened for me to 
 tlie career at the bar for which I have waited so long. I 
 must celebrate the event in some way, and cannot do so 
 better than by asking you and other bachelor friends to 
 dine with me, in honour of it, next Thursday evening — the 
 night before I appear in court. Dinner at seven, in a private 
 room at Anderton's. Do come. — Yours in ecstasy, 
 
 " Demetrius Smith." 
 
 Ten other missives of invitation did ]\Ir. Smith despatch 
 before he left chambers that evening, and to all of them 
 came answers of acceptance, with fervent congratula- 
 tions. 
 
 He had great difficulty in wearing away the next two days. 
 
 Never had the hours dragged so wearily. But Thursday 
 evening, the prelude to the eventful Friday, arrived at last, 
 and by five o'clock (two hours before the time fixed for 
 the dinner) Mr. Smith was sitting at his chambers in full 
 evening dress, with his watch in his hand. 
 
 Suddenly there was a loud knock at the door, which 
 deposited Mr. Smith's heart in the middle of his mouth. 
 
 Could it ? Was it ? Oh ! cou/d it be another brief? 
 
 The boy had left, so Mr. Smith rose, trembling, and went 
 to the door. A youth was standing there — a youth in whose 
 appearance there was that nameless savour of writs, and 
 ink, and brazen impertinence which distinguishes a certain 
 type of solicitor's office-boy. 
 
 "Hare you Mr. D. Smith?" inquired the youth saucily. 
 
 " My name is Mr. Demetrius Smith," was the dignified 
 response.
 
 94 MR. SMITH'S BRIEF. 
 
 "His it? Then you've took in a brief as were meant 
 for Mr. David Smith of Ho/ci Square." 
 
 Mr. Smith absolutely gasped for breath. 
 
 "W — w — w — hat do you mean?" he at last asked 
 faintly. 
 
 "Wy, I means has hour new clerk 'ave mistooked the 
 chambers, hand left the brief hat the wrong place. Smith 
 ain't such a wery huncommon name, neither." 
 
 Mr. Smith tottered back into his room as one in a dream, 
 took up the brief from his table, went to the door again, 
 handed it to the youth [who went off whisthng in the most 
 hardened manner] ; and then he returned, and sat down 
 in his chair in a state of utter collapse. 
 
 He had been sitting there how long he knew not, and 
 cared not, when suddenly a clock in the neighbourhood 
 struck seven. 
 
 " Good gracious ! that dinner at Anderton's ! " 
 
 Mr. Smith rose, took up his opera-hat, which was lying 
 fiat on the table, pushed it out with a bang, and stuck it 
 on his head ; and, having done tliis, he rushed out despe- 
 rately and hailed a cab to Anderton's. 
 
 Arrived there, he found that his eleven guests had all 
 assembled, and that they were sitting round the room and 
 glaring at each other in that sociable manner which dis- 
 tinguishes English people before dinner. Mr. Smith re- 
 sponded to the greetings which hailed him in a tone of 
 laboured cheerfulness, and stammered an apology for his 
 late arrival, which, to his great relief, was cut short by 
 the entrance of dinner. He took the head of the table, 
 of course, and made desperate efforts to be lively, which, 
 for the most part, took the form of laughing an unnatural
 
 MR. SMITH'S BRIEF. 95 
 
 laugh at unexpected and not altogether appropriate 
 moments. 
 
 For instance, when Hockin referred to the loss of his 
 father last year, and Johnson said he had just been ruined 
 by a scoundrel, Mr. Smith was convulsed with mirth, to 
 their great astonishment. 
 
 Other marks also of a disordered mind might have been 
 noticed by the close observer, as to which time will only 
 allow me to mention that Mr. Smith helped himself to salt 
 and mustard until the rim of his plate was covered with 
 little heaps all round, and that his dinner-napkin reposed 
 generally on the floor, sometimes on the table, was once 
 lied round his neck in a sailor's knot, and was eventually 
 ])laced in his pocket, under the impression that it was his 
 handkerchief. In fact, there was an awful foreboding in 
 Mr. Smith's mind, which gave him a cold chill whenever he 
 looked at Topper, who was sitting at the foot of the table, 
 and which rose to agony-point when dinner gave way to 
 dessert, and Topper l/egan to clear his throat. 
 
 If Mr. Smith's garments had been lined with nutmeg- 
 graters — if he had had several pointed pebbles inside his 
 boots — he could not have looked more exquisitely uncom- 
 fortable than he did when Topper executed this manoeuvre. 
 In vain he tried to catch Topper's eye, but he couldn't. 
 Topper's eye seemed to work on a sort of aggravating 
 swivel ; for it looked up and down, and this way and that 
 way, but not once at Mr. Smith before he rose from his 
 chair, glass in hand, and spake as follows : — 
 
 " Gentlemen, I believe I am the oldest person present, and 
 I believe that I have the privilege of being also the oldest 
 friend present of our excellent host. I cannot, therefore,
 
 96 MR. SMITH'S BRIEF. 
 
 let this evening pass without saying a word as to the occa- 
 sion which we have met here to celebrate. 
 
 " Upon the social qualities of our friend, his kindly, 
 generous heart, his wit, his high character, of these I need 
 not speak [No ! no !], for they are known to all of us^ 
 [Hear ! hear !] But of his legal knowledge — of his forensic 
 ability — of his power to take a worthy place in history 
 beside Lord — Lord — I say beside Lord — in fact beside all 
 the great and gifted lawyers who have adorned the bar, the 
 senate, and the bench — of these we have thus far been able 
 only to surmise, to speculate, and to hope. And why is this, 
 gentlemen ? Why is it that our friend has not luminously 
 shone in that profession which he has, I venture to say, 
 been born to adorn ? I will tell you. It is because he has 
 been under a bushel — at least, of course, I mean his light ; 
 in one word, because he has wanted opportunity. Gentle- 
 men, I believe it is no secret among us that a path has been 
 opened at length for the display of the commanding abilities 
 of our friend ; that the laurel wreath is, so to speak, being 
 prepared for his brow ; that the triumphal car " (and here 
 Topper pointed theatrically towards Fleet Street) " is wait- 
 ing to carry him into the golden land of success. Our friend 
 has got Ms first brief . His first, I say; but who can doubt 
 how many will succeed it? Who can doubt that this is the 
 opportiuiity which has alone been wanted ? Can it, under 
 these circumstances, be wondered if I, his old friend, shed a 
 tear of manly emotion " (the tear dropped into Mr. Topper's 
 claret-glass), " and ask you to fill your glasses to the very 
 brim, and drink, with musical honours, long life and a brilliant 
 successful career at the bar to Mr. Demetrius Smith." 
 
 Topper, amid thunders of applause, raised his glass to 
 
 I
 
 MR. SMITH'S BRIEF. 97 
 
 his lips, and everybody else's glass was raised to everybody 
 else's lips. 
 
 If you have never had your own health drunk with musical 
 honour?, may I be permitted respectfully to express a hope 
 that you never may. It implies the raising of every voice 
 in the room to its top note, and sometimes to regions 
 considerably beyond any note recognised among civilised 
 nations ; and it also implies the singing by every person of 
 different words in different tunes as near to you as it is 
 possible to get. 
 
 When this ceremony had been gone through in ]\Ir. 
 Smith's case, every one sat down with an air of expectancy, 
 and up rose the object of the toast. 
 
 " Gentlemen, — The boy left it, don't you see, at my 
 chambers, and — and — my name was on it — ]\Ir. D. Smith ; — 
 and I read it — there wasn't much to read, only outside, 
 but I read it — and I took it into court yesterday— just to 
 show I had one, you know — and, of course, I couldn't tell, 
 could I ? 
 
 "You see, the boy never said that /ii's chambers were in 
 Old Square, but they were — and his name's D, Smith too 
 — David Smith — and that other boy came to-night just as I 
 was dressed — I don't mean my boy — and I don't mean the 
 boy that brought it — I mean that other boy — that beast oi a 
 boy — and I went to the door — and I thought it might be 
 another, but it — it — wasn't — it was only that beast of a boy 
 come to say that it was a mistake. 
 
 *' I never had one before — and I didn't have this one — 
 only for two days, at least — and I hadn't any opportunity 
 to tell Topper, or I should have asked him not to speak his 
 speech.
 
 98 MR. SMITH'S BRIEF. 
 
 " I'm not angry with you, Topper. You did not mean 
 to make me look silly. And the boy brought it, don't 
 you see. 
 
 "I don't mind, you know — only perhaps you wouldn't 
 mind not laughing at a fellow." 
 
 Mr. Smith's appeal was not in vain, for when he sat down 
 nobody laughed. 
 
 It must be confessed that Hockin gurgled, that there was 
 about Johnson an appearance referable only to apoplexy 
 or suppressed mirth, while several of the guests seemed to 
 have great difficulty in persuading the contents of their 
 wine-glasses to proceed down their throats in an orthodox 
 manner. 
 
 To the everlasting credit of Topper, be it recorded that 
 he looked really pained at the position in which he had 
 unwittingly placed our Demetrius. 
 
 It is recorded in history that on the morning following 
 Mr. Smith's luckless banquet — over the close of which I 
 draw a veil — a painter might have been seen erasing the 
 name of Mr. Demetrius Smith from the lintel of No. 6i 
 New Square, Lincoln's Inn, and that, at the very earliest 
 moment at which the regulations permitted, Mr. Smith 
 took all necessary steps for casting the dust from his feet, 
 the gown from his back, and the wig from the top of his 
 head at the Ancient and Honourable Society of Lincoln's 
 Inn, . ■
 
 ( 99 ) 
 
 SHAKESPEARE ON BOARD. 
 
 I HAVE never personally embarked upon the ocean wave for 
 any longer period than is implied in a journey to Boulogne 
 (upon which occasion candour compels mc to state in a 
 parenthesis that I was extremely ill, and invisible to all but 
 a select circle of sorrowing friends, from the mouth of the 
 Thames to Boulogne Harbour), but I have been given to 
 understand by others, that on every passenger ship in which 
 a large number of people are confined to a small space for 
 several days or weeks together, there is usually to be found 
 some one person who is the life and soul of the ship, and 
 who keeps everybody, more or less, from yielding to the 
 monotony of the situation. 
 
 At all events, such a man was there on board the good 
 ship " Palmerston," in the person of one John Lumsden, 
 during a certain voyage, in a certain year of grace. There 
 was no end to the versatile energy of that man. He talked, 
 laughed, sang, conjured, played the piano, violin, and bones ; 
 ate his meals with perfect enjoyment, when the empty places 
 at the saloon-table plainly told a tale of blighted hopes on 
 the part of the passengers generally ; he knew all about the 
 ropes, was learned as to the wind, and was more or less 
 well up in every possible subject. 
 
 But if there was one thing at which Mr. Lumsden excelled 
 above all others, it was in the organising of entertainments.
 
 loo SHAKESPEARE ON BOARD. 
 
 He was a born stage-manager ; and so great were his own 
 enthusiasm and his power of imparting it to other people, 
 that all on board went musically and dramatically mad — so 
 much so, indeed, that if he had not exercised considerable 
 firmness, everybody would have insisted on taking an active 
 part in the performances, and there would have been no 
 audience at all, except the cook's boy, who came from Peru, 
 and couldn't understand a word of English. 
 
 Several entertainments had gone off with great success; 
 and Mr. Lumsden was sitting in the saloon one afternoon, 
 arranging the programme for the next one, when Mobbs, 
 the steward, might have been observed to approach him 
 in a sidelong and rather guilty manner. Mr. Lumsden 
 looked up. 
 
 "Well, Mobbs, what is it?" 
 
 "Well, you see, Mr. Lumsden, sir ! me and the cook 'ave 
 been thinking as p'r'aps you might let us do it ? " 
 
 " Do what, Mobbs ? " 
 
 " Why, sir," said Mobbs modestly, " we 'ave been read- 
 ing parts of "Amlet,' and the cook /la^id me thought as 
 p'r'aps you might put us in to do the Ghost scene at the 
 next entertainment, if not hinconvenient or hotherwise 
 full up." 
 
 Mr. Lumsden's eyes opened very wide, and then twinkled 
 very merrily ; and then, assuming an air of deep gravity, he 
 answered — 
 
 "By all means, Mobbs. Fll put your names down at 
 once." 
 
 Mobbs bowed gratefully, and departed to inform the cook 
 of the success of his mission. 
 
 When the programme was stuck up in the saloon next
 
 SHAKESPEARE ON BOARD. loi 
 
 morning, it contained, sure enough, among others, the follow- 
 ing item : — - 
 
 " Recitation : The Ghost scene from ' Hamlet.' 
 
 Hamlet . . , Mr. James Mobbs. 
 Ghost . ... ]\Ir. Robert Spriggins." 
 
 An air of unusual importance pervaded the lineaments 
 of Mr. J. Mobbs and Mr. R. Spriggins during the interval of 
 time which elapsed before the entertainrnent took place. 
 On every possible occasion they escaped together into a 
 cabin, from whence there would forthwith proceed strange 
 sounds ; and when engaged in their ordinary pursuits, there 
 might have been observed in both of them a lofty abstrac- 
 tion, which caused them to be regarded by the steerage 
 passengers with mingled awe and admiration. 
 
 At length the evening came, and a crowded audience filled 
 the saloon, at one end of which was a small platform, which 
 had been improvised by the ingenious Mr. Lumsden. 
 
 The proceedings were opened with a regular rockets- 
 and-fireworks duet by the Misses Simpkin, in the course of 
 which the Misses Simpkin displayed such powers of execu- 
 tion, that they very nearly fell off their music-stools, and 
 the piano looked quite hot when they had finished. 
 
 Then came a song by Mrs. Wagglctail. She was a very 
 fat woman, with a shrill voice, which was often raised in 
 melody (to the serious inconvenience of. the fomily in the 
 next cabin), and oftener still in anger at Mr. Waggletail, a 
 much-enduring little man, of whom Mrs. ^^'. would have 
 made about six, witli his hat and boots thrown in. 
 
 When the applause which greeted Mrs. Waggletail's re- 
 tirement had subsided, Mr. Lumsden rose and announced 
 the recitation from "Hamlet," by Mr. James Mobbs and
 
 I02 SHAKESPEARE ON BOARD. 
 
 Mr. Robert Spriggins ; and thereupon those worthies ap- 
 peared on the platform. 
 
 I believe there have been learned controversies as to the 
 personal appearance and dress of Hamlet. I have never 
 studied the subject with close attention, and I am there- 
 fore not prepared to express any opinion as to the accuracy 
 of Mr. Mobbs' rendering of the Danish prince's outward 
 man. 
 
 I simply state, that on this occasion Hamlet was identi- 
 fied with a face totally devoid of beauty or intelligence, 
 and a costume consisting of an immense bird's-eye necktie, 
 a red-and-white-striped shirt, a shiny-black coat and waist- 
 coat, and a pair of white ducks ; the whole column having 
 for its base an apoplectic-looking pair of blucher boots. 
 Hamlet's Ghost, as personified by Mr. Spriggins, was a 
 spirit with a very red face and a decided tendency to stout- 
 ness. Mr. Spriggins gave a novel rendering to the part 
 by substituting for the dismal expression which usually 
 pervades the features of Hamlet's papa a cheerful, not to 
 say hilarious, smile, as if, on the whole, the incident of being 
 murdered, and then dropping in from the spirit-world to 
 inspect the scene of the disaster, presented itself to his mind 
 in a comic aspect. He had, moreover, a natural hoarseness 
 of voice, which conveyed rather an impression that the spirit- 
 world was draughty, and had given him a cold. 
 
 It had been arranged that Mr. Lumsden should act as 
 prompter, and accordingly that gentleman sat in front, 
 with a "Shakespeare" on his lap. 
 
 The particular part of the Ghost scene selected for the 
 programme was that in which the Ghost, having beckoned 
 Hamlet to leave his companions, and Hamlet having obeyed
 
 SHAKESPEARE ON BOARD. 103 
 
 the bidding, they stand together and hold a little private 
 conversation, which is started by Hamlet. 
 
 With this introduction, I will, by your leave, pull up the 
 curtain. 
 
 Ha//!. " Whither wilt thou lead me ? Speak ! Hi'll go 
 no farther." 
 
 G/ios^ {pkasmitly). " Mark me." 
 
 Ham. " Hi will." 
 
 G^osf {confidentially). " My /^our is almost come, 
 
 When I to blazin' torments " 
 
 [Mr. Liimsden, aside. "Not 'blazing torments' — 'sul- 
 phurous and tormenting flames.' "] 
 
 GJiost. "I don't mean 'blazin' torments,' but, as the 
 gentleman says, kindly setting me straight — 
 
 ' When I to sallyfurious and tormentin' flames 
 Must go and give in ' " 
 
 \]\Ir. Ltimsden, aside. " Must render u}) myself."] 
 
 Ghost (argumentatively). " Well, it's the same thing, 
 ain't it? Still, of course, as the book says, 'Must render 
 up myself.' " 
 
 Ham. "Alas! poor Ghost." 
 
 Ghost. " Don't go for to pity me, but listen 'ere." 
 
 [Air. Lumsdcn. " Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing 
 To what I shall unfold."] 
 
 Ghost {aside doggedly). "That's jest what 1 says." 
 
 Ham. " Speak ! Hi ham bound to 'ear." 
 
 Ghost. "So hart thou to rewenge when thou shalt 'ear." 
 [To Afr. Lumsden. "I suppose thafs right, anyway?"] 
 
 Ham. "What?" 
 
 Ghost. " W'y, I says to the gen'l'man, as I s'pose that 
 was right anyway ? "
 
 I04 SHAKESPEARE ON BOARD. 
 
 Ham. "What?" 
 
 Ghost. " W'y, didn't I tell you? Wot are you whisper- 
 ing about iioiv, Mr. I.umsden ? " 
 
 [J/r. Lumsden. "'What' is in Hamlet's part, and you 
 should answer, ' I am thy father's spirit' "] 
 
 Ghost. " Law ! to think of me forgetting that, Mobbs ! 
 I thought you was a-talking to me private. 
 
 ' Hi ham thy father's sperrit, Mobbs (I mean 'Amlet), 
 
 Doom'd for a sartin time to walk about.' " 
 \Afr. Uiiiisden {emphatically). "Walk the night!"] 
 Ghost. " Doom'd for a sartin time to walk about at night. 
 
 Hand for the day to roast upon the fire." 
 \j\Ir. Lumsden. " And for the day confined to fast in fires."] 
 Ghost {pityingly, as if Ids otvn rendering were much better), — 
 " Hand for the day confined to fasting fires, 
 Till them there deeds, done in my days of natur'. 
 Hare reg'lar frizzled hup." 
 \Mr. Lumsden. " Are burnt and purged away."] 
 Ghost {in a tone of remonstrance). " Well, now, wot is the 
 difference between burnin' and frizzlin' up ? Still, of course, 
 ^ave it your way, sir ! 
 
 ' Hare burnt and purged away. 
 But that I ain't allowed.'" 
 [J/r. Lumsden. " But that I am forbid."] 
 Ghost. " But that I am forbid to say I ain't allowed. 
 I mean to tell the secrets of my prison 'ouse. 
 Hi could a tale hunfold has would {fatise) 
 
 — has would " 
 
 \_Mr. Lumsden. "Whose lightest word."] 
 Ghost. " Thank you, sir ! 
 
 'Whose lightest word would — would '" 
 
 \_Mr. Lzimsden. "Would harrow up thy soul."]
 
 SHAKESPEARE ON BOARD. 135 
 
 Gliost. " Thank you, sir ! 
 
 'Would 'arrow hup thy soul — freeze thy'" 
 
 [ J/r. Lu?nsden. " Young blood."] 
 
 Ghost. "'Young blood.' Look here, Mobbs, you know- 
 it better than me. You finish this lot about the fretful 
 porkypine — squills, and all that." 
 
 Ham. {abandoning blank verse). "'0\v can I, stoopid? 
 'Ave I not got to say wot's down for 'Amlet in the book ? 
 Wot's the good of puttin' me down H-A-M ' Am,' short for 
 'Amlet, if I'm a-going to be a ghost likewise ? " 
 
 Ghost {in very earthly tones). "Who are you calling 
 stoopid ? I ain't no more stoopid than you, I s'pose, 
 a-standing there calling yourself 'Amlet when your name's 
 Mobbs. I s'pose 'Amlet was a stooard, was he?" 
 
 Jfam. "I s'pose the Ghost was a cook, was he?" 
 
 Ghost. " Think you can act fine, I s'pose ? 
 
 Hani. "It ain't no good trying to act fine with some 
 parties." 
 
 Ghost. " Don't be insultin', Mobbs ! " 
 
 Jfam. " Don't be impertinent, Spriggins ! " 
 
 It is impossible to say how long this passage-of-arms 
 might have lasted, and to what extremities it might have 
 gone, had not Mr. Lumsden — whose presence of mind was 
 equal to any emergency — jumped on to the platform and 
 sent Mr. Hamlet Mobbs and Mr. Ghost Spriggins uncere- 
 moniously off the same. They kept up a heated personal 
 controversy while melting from the view ; but I am happy 
 to say that at a later period of the evening they might have 
 been seen harmoniously imbibing grog together, and con- 
 gratulating each other upon having, as they considered, 
 played their parts exceedingly well. In which belief they 
 will live and die.
 
 ( io6 ) 
 
 MISS WIFFIN'S BIRTHDAY PRESENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE PROLOGUE. 
 
 Mr. William Woozle lodged on the ground floor; Mr. 
 and Mrs. Wiffin and Miss Sarah Wiffin, their daughter, 
 lodged on the first floor ; and Mr. Paul Poppit lodged on 
 the second floor. 
 
 Mr. Woozle loved Miss Wifiin — INIr. Poppit also loved 
 Miss Wiffin. It is, therefore, quite unnecessary for me to 
 add that Mr. Poppit and Mn Woozle also loved each other 
 dearly, and that neither of them would have been delighted 
 to smother the other one ; no, not if he had been specially 
 licensed by Act of Parliament so to do. 
 
 To say that Mr. Woozle and Mr. Poppit vied with each 
 other in their attentions to the young lady is to convey but 
 a faint idea of their rivalry. They kept a close and inces- 
 sant watch on each other ; and Mary, the servant-maid, was 
 a considerable gainer by their proceedings, inasmuch as 
 she was liberally paid by Poppit to keep him informed of 
 ■foozle's last move in the way of presents to the young lady 
 or otherwise, and equally well paid by Woozle to perform 
 exactly the same office as to Poppit. 
 
 The result was, that if Woozle presented Miss Wiffin
 
 MISS WIFFIN'S BIRTHDAY PRESENTS. 107 
 
 with some token of regard — say a box of preserved fruit — 
 forthwith would Poppit eclipse the gift by a much larger 
 box of much more intensely preserved fruit. If Poppit 
 sent do"ccm to the first floor for Miss Wiffin six pairs of the 
 best gloves, immediately did Woozle, on learning of it, send 
 7/J> to the first floor, for Miss WifSn, twelve pairs of the 
 very best gloves. 
 
 Nay, when Woozle, inspired by a bright thought, sere- 
 naded Miss Wififin from the bottom of the stairs with a 
 violin, Poppit rushed out, and within one hour had bor- 
 rowed, conveyed home in a cab, carried upstairs, and 
 began to play on the landing of the second floor an im- 
 mense violoncello. It is true that he had never played it 
 before, and that his amorous efforts produced sounds 
 dubious as to the amount of music, and most unquestion- 
 able as to the quantity of appalling noise ; still the great 
 point remained that the violoncello was at least four times 
 as large as the violin, which was an immense consolation 
 to Poppit, not to mention the fact that the noise on the 
 second floor utterly drowned all the efiforts at the foot of 
 the stairs, and reduced Woozle to an extremity of baffled 
 rage and despair. 
 
 But what, may be asked, were the feelings of Miss 
 Wififin at being made the object of this double-barrelled 
 adoration ? 
 
 Well, the feelings of Miss Wififin were, that it was plea- 
 sant — distinctly pleasant. 
 
 In the first place, it meant presents — so many presents 
 that she spent quite a considerable fraction of her time in 
 untying parcels. 
 
 In the second place, Woozle and Poppit were both very
 
 io8 MISS WIFFhVS BIRTHDAY PRESENTS. 
 
 nice-looking young men, and very eligible young men — and 
 ]\Iiss Wiffin was by no means indifferent to either of them. 
 
 But as she could not marry both, and had not made up 
 her mind which she liked best, she preserved an equal 
 balance between them — insomuch that hope and fear 
 filled their respective bosoms alternately, and the two 
 bosoms never had the same feelings at the same time, but 
 when the one was exultant the other was always filled with 
 despair, and z'ict; versa. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE PLOT. 
 
 A THREE-CORNERED note Sent downstairs to Mr. Woozle : — 
 
 " My dear Mr. Woozle, — Pa and Ma join me in hoping 
 that you will be able to take tea with us next Wednesday, as 
 it is my birthday. We are asking Mr. Poppit to meet you. 
 — Yours truly, Sarah Wiffin." 
 
 A square note sent upstairs to Miss Wiffin : — 
 
 " My dear Miss Wiffin, — To say that it will give me the 
 greatest pleasure to avail myself of your kind invitation, is not 
 to say what I would say, but, on the contrary, much less so. 
 Excuse me if I add that there are persons whom other persons 
 do not care to meet, although outward concealment of feelings 
 may be necessary though storms within do rage. — Yours most 
 sincerely, William Woozle." 
 
 A three-cornered note sent upstairs to Mr. Poppit : — 
 
 "My dear Mr, POPPlT,-=-Next Wednesday being my birth- 
 day. Pa and Ma join me in hoping you will be able to take tea 
 with us. We are asking Mr. Woozle to meet you. — Yours truly, 
 
 " Sarah Wiffin."
 
 MISS WIFFIN'S BIRTHDAY PRESENTS. 109 
 
 A square note sent downstairs to Miss Wififin : — 
 
 "My DEAR Miss Wiffin, — There are times when the human 
 heart — excuse me naming it- — is full, and the feelings difficult to 
 repress. Such is this. I thank you most kindly, and will joyous 
 come. 'Tis not for me to say who should be asked to your 
 natal tea-party, but there are people whose whiskers are fair, but 
 whose deeds are dark, and who — but I will not add more. — 
 Yours very truly, Paul Poppit." 
 
 " I wonder what that fellow Woozlc's going to give her 
 on Wednesday," observed Poppit to himself as he thought- 
 fully paced his room on the Monday evening before the 
 entertainment. " Mary can't find out what he's up to, 
 and if I don't take care he'll beat my present. Never mind, 
 he won't dream of my writing a birthday ode ; and if that 
 doesn't take the shine out of him I don't know what's what. 
 Still I should like to know what his little game is. I know 
 what I'll do ; he's out this evening, so I'll slip down and 
 have a look about his room myself." 
 
 With stealthy gait and shoeless, not to say sockless, feet 
 i\Ir. Poppit descended the stairs, and gendy entering the 
 vacant room of Woozle, forthwith began making a thorough 
 search. 
 
 The sideboard ! No, nothing but jam, and briar-root pipes 
 and anchovy sauce, and other little matters of that kind. 
 
 The cupboard ! No : boots, a cricket bat, an old Persian 
 scimitar, more briar-root pipes — but nothing wrapped up, 
 nothing bearing the remotest resemblance to a birthday 
 present. Poppit hunted in every nook and corner in vain, 
 and was about to retire thoroughly vanquished, when sud- 
 denly he bethought him of the bedroom ; and there — there, 
 in the clothes-press, on the top shelf, flanked by a suit of
 
 no MISS WIFFIN'S BIRTHDAY PRESENTS. 
 
 tweeds, and covered over by six pairs of socks, was a great, 
 big, heavy, uncompromising looking parcel. 
 
 With a subdued chuckle of triumph, Poppit hauled it forth, 
 uncovered it, and brought to the light a handsome musical- 
 box, with the initials " S.W." stamped on the lid. 
 
 " I think my present will put f/iaf pretty well in the shade, 
 remarked Poppit, as he lifted up the Hd contemptuously ; 
 but o/i ! how shall I describe his transport of despair, how 
 shall I do justice to the emotion depicted on that young 
 man's face, when I relate that the lifting up of the lid dis- 
 closed to view a richly-embroidered envelope, with the 
 words inscribed thereon, " To S. W., A Natal Ode." 
 
 " Blowed if he hasn't written a natal ode too ! " exclaimed 
 Poppit. 
 
 With trembling fingers he took out of the envelope an 
 intensely creamlaid sheet of paper, with scolloped edges and 
 a most bewildering allegory at the top, which might at first 
 sight have been Margate in a thunderstorm for anything that 
 distinctly appeared to the contrary, but on closer inspection 
 seemed, like a great many other allegories, to be totally 
 devoid of any meaning whatsoever. 
 
 Poppit ran his eye down the rival composition, and then, 
 by way of variety, he ran his eye up it, and then he observed 
 in a hoarse whisper, " Ha ! ha ! " which pertinent remark 
 was followed by a thoughtful rubbing of the nose. Then 
 he put the ode back into the envelope, and balanced it on 
 his finger ; and then, with a deep groan, he placed it back 
 in the musical-box. 
 
 But suddenly an extraordinary change came over Poppit. 
 He took the envelope out again hurriedly, and whispering, 
 " Shall I ?— Dare I ?— Is there time ?— Yes \—\ will ! " he
 
 MISS WIFFIN'S BIRTHDAY PRESENTS. ni 
 
 closed the musical box, and restored it to the companion- 
 ship of the tweed-suit and six pairs of socks. And having 
 done that, he rushed from the room, bearing with him 
 Woozle's Natal Ode, envelope and all. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE CATASTROPHE. 
 
 The day was Wednesday; the time evening; the place 
 Mr. and Mrs. Wiffin's sitting-room on the first floor ; and 
 the persons present, Mr. and Mrs. Wiffin, ]\Iiss Wiffin, a 
 young lady friend of Miss Wififin's, Mr. W'oozle, and Mr. 
 Poppit. 
 
 Tea was just over, but they were still sitting at the table. 
 Miss Wiffin sat with Woozle on one side of her, and Poppit 
 on the other, and she divided her attentions most equally 
 between them. 
 
 In the early part of tea, Woozle, who was indeed naturally 
 of a subdued temperament, had looked gloomy, and not 
 without some cause : for, whereas he had only contributed to 
 the feast an ordinary plum-cake, Poppit had come out very 
 strong with a much richer cake, all snowy white at the top, 
 and crowned with a sugar Cupid playing a chocolate harp, 
 and not by any means too warmly dressed for the time of 
 year. But, under the soothing influence of muffins, Woozle 
 gradually recovered himself, and was now comparatively 
 cheerful. 
 
 Woozle had secretly hoped that his rival would bring in 
 his birthday present for Miss Wiffin before tea, so as to have 
 the satisfaction of getting the last smile and ** thank you "
 
 112 MISS WIFFIN'S BIRTHDAY PRESENTS. 
 
 from that fair damsel, and Poppit had nurtured a corre- 
 sponding hope. But when it became obvious to each of them 
 that his design had been frustrated, they were both seized 
 with a violent attack of fidgets, and the last crumb had 
 scarcely been swept off the table when Poppit murmured an 
 apology and rushed out of the room, followed at an interval 
 of five yards by Woozle. 
 
 A few moments and they returned in a dead heat, jostling 
 each other spitefully in the doorway, and each bearing a 
 package done up in paper. 
 
 "Miss Wiffin," said Poppit, very much out of breath, and 
 tearing eagerly at the paper, "I've taken — the liberty— of 
 buying you — a little birthday present " [it measured about 
 two feet by one]—" with many happy returns of this eventful 
 day— and I hope — it will be kindly taken as meant." 
 
 By the time this speech was finished the present was 
 uncovered. It was a lady's dressing-case ; and as the de- 
 lighted Miss Wiffin lifted up the lid, what did she see but 
 an illuminated sheet of paper with poetry — evidently poetry 
 — upon it, comfortably setded on the top of a pair of 
 brushes and a scent-bottle. 
 
 Miss Wiffin took up the sheet of paper and looked at it ; 
 and then Miss Wiffin blushed, and put it down again. 
 
 " Read it, my dear," said Mr. Wiffin encouragingly, 
 
 "Read it, my dear," said Mrs. Wiffin inquisitively. 
 
 " Read it, Sarah dear," said the young lady friend coax- 
 ingly. 
 
 Miss Wiffin vowed she wouldn't, and declared she couldn't, 
 and then, as is usually the case under such circumstances, 
 she did. It was headed " Natal Ode," and Miss Wiffin read 
 shyly as follows : —
 
 MISS WIFFIN'S BIRTHDAY PRESENTS. 113 
 
 " The sun was bright — the earth was gay, 
 Sweet Sarah, on thy Natal Day — 
 At least I venture so to say, 
 And hope with no offence I may. 
 
 And since then, each succeeding year 
 Hath made thee to thy friends more dear ; 
 Eoth as you are and as you were, 
 You are an angel, I declare. 
 
 The humblest of your servants, I 
 A birthday gift have dared to buy ; 
 And greatly do I hope, oh ! my, 
 That you to accept it won't be shy. 
 
 I.et sun, and moon, and stars unite 
 In wishing you a future bright ! 
 May all things ever turn out spiffin 
 To you, adored Miss Sarah WifTm !" 
 
 Everybody declared it was l>eaut\{ul, except Woozle, who 
 folded his arms and glared unutterably. But his turn was 
 now to come, and scarcely had the chorus of praise died 
 away when he began to untie /ifs parcel. 
 
 " I, too," said Woozle, in a melancholy tone, " I, too, 
 have dared to mark the occasion by a trifling little gift," 
 [this one measured about three feet by two] — " 'tis but a 
 silly bauble — a musical box — and yet the feelings that 
 accompany it, Miss Wiffin, arc warm — I may say fervid." 
 
 Woozle handed the musical box to Miss Wiffin, who 
 looked at it all round in girlish pleasure, lifted up the lid, 
 and, behold, an embossed envelope was seen. She toyed 
 with the envelope as if afraid to open it, when the doleful 
 voice of Woozle was again heard. 
 
 "'Tis but a sorry ode on this your birthday. It may 
 not be equal to the compositions of of/u-r persons " [here 
 "Woozle glared at Poppit], " but it comes from the heart — 
 which is more than some other persons' do." 
 
 H
 
 114 MISS WIFFIN'S BIRTHDAY PRESENTS. 
 
 Thus adjured, Miss Wiffin tore open the envelope, and 
 drew forth another illuminated sheet of paper. She looked 
 at its contents, and they had the curious effect of causing 
 her to turn as red as fire. Without a word she passed it on 
 to Mrs. Wiffin, who perused it, and also turned, if possible, 
 redder than fire ; and she passed it to Mr. Wiflin, who like- 
 wise looked at it, and, not being able to manage a deeper 
 shade of red, turned purple. 
 
 " Sir ! " gasped Mr. Wiffin, in a tremendous voice, " is 
 this intended for ajo/^e?" 
 
 " A joke ! " faltered Mr. Woozle. " I never was more 
 earnest in my life. I hope you don't feel offended by its 
 warmth." 
 
 "Warmth, indeed!" shouted Uy. Wiffin, getting purpler 
 and purpler ; " I'll teach you how to play off your infamous 
 tricks here ! " 
 
 " But, sir," said Woozle, becoming calm in utter despera- 
 tion, "read it— ask the young lady there— ask even Aim" 
 [pointing to Poppit] " whether there is any harm in it ! " 
 
 " Read it ! yes, I will read it, you impudent scoundrel," 
 said Mr. Wiffin ; and therewith he gulped down, by a violent 
 effort, his choking wrath, and read in gasps as follows :— 
 
 •' You're very proud and haughty, 
 
 Of your looks you make the most ; 
 But I b'lieve to-day you're forty, 
 So you've got no cause to boast. 
 
 With your many airs and graces, 
 
 You would try men to attract ; 
 But your smiles are ugly faces, 
 
 And that is a blessed fact. 
 
 You think to matrimony 
 You will lure me on by tea ;
 
 MISS WIFFIN'S BIRTHDAY PRESENTS. 115 
 
 But I see your game so funny, 
 And I say you won't catch me. 
 
 Not for such as you is "Woozle, 
 
 Plowever hard you try ; 
 Though witli presents I bamboozle, 
 
 And with love pretend to sigli. 
 
 In sliort, to speak quite flat, Miss, 
 
 By another I'm Ijespoke, 
 And you may as well know that, Miss, 
 
 Though with anger you should choke." 
 
 " W — vv — what's this ? " exclaimed Woozle, who had been 
 standing with his mouth open all the time, speechless with 
 astonishment. " It's a plot — a conspiracy — I never wrote 
 it — it's not my writing" [he had snatched it out of Mr. 
 Wiffin's hands] — "it's a wicked, base invention. Mine 
 began, 'When first adored Aurora rose.' Who did it? 
 Who has been trying to ruin me?" 
 
 "/knows," said a voice suddenly, from the back of the 
 room ; " I seen him do it. It was Mr. Poppit there as I 
 see put a sheet of paper into that there envelope, and creep 
 downstairs mysteriously, like as appeared to me queer, and 
 watched him go into Mr. Woozle's room." 
 
 The speaker was Mary, the servant-maid, who had come 
 into the room unobserved while the scene which I have 
 tried to describe was at its height. 
 
 That malicious piece of work was fatal to I\Ir. Poppit. 
 He slunk away from the lodgings next day before any 
 one was up, and 
 
 Miss Sarah Wiflin is now — Mrs. Woozle.
 
 ( ii6 ) 
 
 MY OLD OVERCOAT. 
 
 A STORY OF A WICKED LITTLE BOY. 
 
 The question, the all-absorbing question which I asked 
 myself as I walked home from school, but without any 
 practical result, was, how in the world I was to raise the 
 money. 
 
 The agonising circumstances were these. I owed 
 Plumby two shillings. Plumby was a schoolfellow of 
 mine. Plumby was bigger than I was. Plumby could, in 
 fact, polish me off" with his left without requiring the small- 
 est assistance from his right. Plumby's last words to me 
 as we emerged that day from the scholastic portal of Dr. 
 Canem, with a view to wending our respective ways home, 
 had been, "Now look here, young Harrison" [I looked 
 there, and beheld the aforesaid "left"], "you've owed me 
 that money for weeks, and you've promised over and over 
 again to pay it, and you never have. Pm not going to 
 stand it any longer; and if you don't bring it in three days' 
 time, ril th-r-r-r-r-r-r-r ash you within an inch of your life." 
 Plumby hissed out the "r" in "thrash" in a manner both 
 meaning and dreadful. 
 
 I had spent my week's allowance, notwithstanding that
 
 MY OLD OVERCOAT. 117 
 
 I owed money to Plumby. I never had been able to 
 resist bath-buns. I was drawn to bath-buns even as steel 
 to a loadstone. 
 
 I had not a penny in the world. 
 
 Now I lived in Pimlico, and on my daily walk to and 
 from Dr. Canem's Academy I had often noticed a particular 
 shop. Its stock-in-trade seemed to comprise anything and 
 everything, from waistcoats to warming-pans — a circum- 
 stance which had often excited my astonishment. There 
 was a public entrance to it, and a quiet sneaking-round-the- 
 corner door, the great object of which appeared to be 
 that nobody should ever discover the fact of its existence. 
 Over the principal doorway were suspended three round 
 golden balls of surpassing brightness. 
 
 I felt no attraction for the shop as I walked home 
 that day. My thoughts were divided wholly and solely 
 between Plumby's left and my despair of raising two 
 shillings ; but just as I passed by I gave one gloomy look 
 into the shop window. 
 
 What was it that caught my eye? It was a dingy 
 placard, so ashamed of itself that it blushed dirt, and 
 written on it were these words, " The best price given for 
 old clothes." 
 
 Now my mamma had just bought me a new overcoat. 
 Why did this fact shoot through my brain as I looked at 
 that particular placard of dingy appearance? For this 
 reason. Having a new overcoat, it was obvious that I 
 should not want my old one. I had always been ashamed 
 of it in consequence of its remarkable colour, which was a 
 conspicuous purple. It had procured for me the soubriquet 
 at school of "Claret bottle." Well, then, could I, should
 
 ii8 MY OLD OVERCOAT, 
 
 I, would I, dare I convey that garment, in the obscurity of 
 eventide, to the shop outside which were hung those three 
 golden balls, and request the "best price" for it? It 
 would never be missed. 
 
 It was a daring scheme — but the bare thought of 
 Plumby's left was awful. 
 
 I would. 
 
 It was winter-time. I generally got home soon after 
 four o'clock, by which time it was dark, and tea was not 
 till five o'clock. 
 
 My plan, then, was to get home as quickly as possible, 
 take down the purple garment from the peg in the hall, 
 roll it into a small bundle when no one was looking, and, 
 slipping out unnoticed, rush back to the curious shop and 
 do the deed at once. 
 
 Behold me, twenty-five minutes after I had formed this 
 desperate resolve, standing outside the shop, with the 
 purple garment tucked under my arm — shaking all over 
 as one smitten with palsy, and feeling as if my heart "were 
 about to make its exit out of my mouth. 
 
 I dared not go in by the principal door. There were 
 several people in the part of the shop to which that led. 
 I would enter by the obscure, out-of-the-way door, round 
 the corner. 
 
 I went to the obscure door. I opened it in fear and 
 trembling, and found myself in a quiet corner of the shop, 
 separated from the other part by a wooden partition. 
 There was a man behind the counter — a dirty man, with a 
 hocked nose and sharp black eyes, which seemed to look 
 right through my guilty soul and come out somewhere at 
 the small of my back.
 
 MY OLD OVERCOAT. iig 
 
 " If you please, sir," I said m very quavering tones, 
 " will you give me the best price for this coat ? " 
 
 " Vos you vanting to shell it then, my tear ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir, I do, please." 
 
 " Let me look at it, my tear." 
 
 I placed the purple garment on the counter for his in- 
 spection. After looking at it, carefully turning the pockets 
 inside out, and otherwise putting it through a very search- 
 ing examination, he turned his sharp black eyes on me and 
 
 said — 
 
 " It ish a very old coat, and worth shcarcely anything, 
 but I vill rob myself and give you two whole shillings for 
 it." 
 
 The generous, noble man, to rob himself on my account ! 
 How could I thank him enough ! The very sum I owed 
 Plumby, too. 
 
 " Oh, thank you, sir, so much ; that will do very nicely 
 indeed. I hope you won't lose vcrj much by it ? " 
 
 The dirty man smiled so benevolently, I thought, as he 
 handed me the two shillings, and said sweetly — 
 
 " Ve often lose, my tear, by giving too much monish for 
 the articles ve buy; but ve love to do it, and so ve put up 
 vith our losses." 
 
 I made my exit out of the obscure door, and ran home 
 quickly with the two shillings jingling victoriously in my 
 pocket. 
 
 I freed myself from the contingency of Plumby's left by 
 making payment to him in full on the following day. But 
 I was not out of the wood yet. 
 
 I used on Saturday afternoons to go out walking with 
 my ma nun a.
 
 I20 MY OLD OVERCOAT. 
 
 On the Saturday afternoon following my visit to the 
 curious shop I came home to dinner at one o'clock. I 
 was going out with my mamma as usual. 
 
 " By-the-bye, Willie dear, we will do something this 
 afternoon which I meant to do immediately I had bought 
 your new overcoat. You will not want your old one now, 
 and there is a poor little boy in Lampton Street whom it 
 will fit exactly. We will take it to him this afternoon." 
 
 A cold chill seized me from head to foot. 
 
 " Ye-es, ma," I stammered, and pretended to eat my 
 dinner in order to conceal my agitation. 
 
 Merciful heavens, this was a nice state of things ! How 
 I existed through the remainder of that dreadful meal I 
 know not. The moment it was over my mamma turned 
 to Sarah, and told her to fetch Master Willie's old purple 
 overcoat from the hall, and make it into a small bundle. 
 
 " Sarah will have to look uncommonly hard," thought I, 
 as I sat trembling in her absence. 
 
 It is quite superfluous to add that Sarah could not find 
 it, and that she came back and told mamma so. 
 
 " Not find it .'' " said mamma, greatly surprised ; '■' why, 
 it must be hanging in the hall ! You have not put it any- 
 where, have you, Willie dear?" she added, turning to me. 
 
 Now, I had that morning at school written twelve times 
 in large round hand, " Truth is glorious." On this occa- 
 sion, however, I was quite unable to see it in that light. 
 Indeed, something very far removed from glory was pro- 
 spectively before my mind. 
 
 This being so, I said " No, ma, dear." 
 
 Search was made for the purple garment, and no one 
 searched more vigorously than I did. Indeed, I made
 
 MY OLD OVERCOAT. 121 
 
 myself quite hot over it. But the purple garment had 
 vanished. 
 
 "Well, it is a very extraordinary thing," said mamma; 
 " but we must not waste any more time over it ; so put your 
 coat and cap on, dear, and we will go and see INIrs. Bad- 
 minton instead." 
 
 I obeyed with light heart ; for though the fib I had told 
 stuck rather heavily under my ribs somewhere, I thought I 
 was safe. 
 
 Our way led us through the street in which was the 
 peculiar shop. We were passing quietly by, when mamma 
 suddenly stopped and looked hard at somet'ning in the shop 
 window. 
 
 I followed her gaze. I believe the intense agony of that 
 moment to have taken quite ten years off my life. 
 
 In the most prominent part of the shop window, bounded 
 on the north by a set of fire-irons, on the south by a mat- 
 tress, on the east by some old china, and on the west by an 
 umbrella, was my purple-coloured, conspicuous, unmistak- 
 able overcoat, labelled " 17/6." 
 
 When my papa came home from business in the evening 
 I was yes, exactly so. 
 
 It hurt me very much. 
 
 It hurt me more than Plumby's left would have done.
 
 ( 122 ) 
 
 M Y FIR ST AND LAST A PPEARA NCE. 
 
 How I ever came to do it I don't know. I was not a 
 theatrical man. I had never acted a part in my Hfe, except 
 once at charade when I was a Httle boy, and then my elder 
 brother smacked my head in the passage afterwards because 
 I let out the word with appalling significance immediately I 
 came on. As far as I have anything like an impression on 
 the subject, I think it was all owing to Duncan. If it was 
 not, I have done him a wrong of tall dimensions, inasmuch 
 as I have cut him persistently ever since it occurred, seven 
 years ago. 
 
 If I am not dreaming, Duncan called on me on the day 
 of the performance, and said, in about two breaths and a 
 half, that it was for the benefit of a charity, and somebody 
 could not play the small part of Giuseppe Diavolo at the 
 last moment because his mother was ill, and would I do it, 
 and it was as easy as possible, and I should only be on the 
 stage a few minutes, and the theatre was in Bayswater, and 
 would I start, please, not later than a quarter-past six, and 
 he was sure I could not refuse, and it was very kind of me 
 to say I would do it {I had not said anything of the kind), 
 and there was the book with the part all marked, and he 
 was very sorry he could not stop, but he had to go and see 
 the costumier, who had only sent him one grey whisker 
 instead of two to play an old man's part in, and, as he said
 
 MY FIRST AND LAST APPEARANCE. 123 
 
 before, it really was very good-natured indeed, and au 
 revoir — and then I found myself alone with the book. 
 
 If I am not still dreaming, I rushed out to call Duncan 
 back ; but by the time I got to the top of the stairs, the tails 
 of his coat were just whisking out of the door, and he either 
 would not or could not hear my despairing shout. 
 
 I believe, also, that when I came back into my room 
 again, I took the book up and began to learn my part. I 
 shall always declare to the end of my life — and thumb- 
 screws won't make me depart from the statement — that at 
 5 P.M. I knew every single word of it. I]ut I confess my- 
 self totally at a loss to account for the phenomenon, that at 
 5.30 I didn't know it quite so well; that at 6 a distinct 
 coolness had sprung up between me and it ; and that at 
 6.15, when I had been requested to start for the scene of 
 action, we were complete strangers to each other. 
 
 I started mechanically, book in hand, and I hailed a cab. 
 My composure of mind was not augmented by the circum- 
 stance that the driver confounded the elegant little bijou 
 theatre to which he was directed to take me, first with a 
 low music-hall, and then with a lower music-hall ; and that 
 he then, as it were, suddenly repenting, drove me in 
 triumph up to the front entrance of a dissenting chapel. 
 We ultimately arrived at my real destination; but the 
 devious route by which I had come, and the stoppages 
 which had occurred on the way, had consumed so much 
 time, that the .performance was about to begin; and all 
 hope of my having a little quiet "study" at my part had 
 vanished. 
 
 I think, but I am not sure, that I expected, when I got 
 to the door, to see Duncan there in the act of putting on
 
 124 MY FIRST AND LAST APPEARANCE. 
 
 his whiskers. If I did I was doomed to disappointment, 
 for he was nowhere visible. This being so, I thought I 
 had better ask for the "green-room," and I did so of a man 
 who was standing at the door, in a tone which might 
 naturally accompany an inquiry for the condemned cell. 
 
 " Green-room, sir ? Bless yer, there ain't no green-room 
 'ere ; but the dressin'-rooms is hunder the stage. You've 
 come to the wrong hentrance haltogether; but if you go 
 along that there passidge, and hopen that there door at the 
 hend of it, and go down the stairs (which, the roof being 
 low and the timbers sticking hout, you'll wery likely 'it 
 your 'ed as you goes), you'll find another door as leads into 
 another passidge, and the dressin'-rooms leads hout of 
 that." 
 
 This complicated and not, strictly speaking, cheerful 
 direction is impressed on my memory with exactness, 
 because I d/ii hit my head against a protruding timber as 
 I went down the stairs to which the man had alluded. 
 And as I have the scar now, I am led to think that this 
 part of the evening, at all events, is not a creature of my 
 imagination. 
 
 Giddy with the blow, I found myself, somehow, in the 
 passage out of which the various dressing-rooms led, and 
 the questions which I had to solve were, which dressing- 
 room was intended for me, how I was going to be dressed, 
 and who was going to dress me. I gently tried a door 
 with the words "Dressing-room" written over it. It was 
 locked, and a shrill treble scream from within gave me 
 reason to suppose that if it had no^ been locked the 
 consequences might have been embarrassing. I fled on 
 tiptoe, and was getting desperate, when a door lower
 
 MY FIRST AND LAST APPEARANCE. 135 
 
 down opened a little way, and an anxious head was thrust 
 out. It was so disguised with paint, an unearthly wig, and 
 two venerable grey whiskers, that I should not, I think, 
 have recognised its owner but for the fact of his speaking 
 to me in the unmistakable tones of Duncan, 
 
 " My dear fellow, this is your room. I told the man at 
 the stage-door to show it to you. For mercy's sake, make 
 haste ! you've got to be dressed, and you come on quite 
 early in the first act. Come along, pray." 
 
 I went along, pray ; and the next thing I remember is 
 that I found myself dressed up as a brigand, with a long 
 cloak thrown loosely over me, as to which I can recall that 
 whenever I walked I tripped up in it, and fell forwards, 
 and whenever I stood still I caught my heels in it, and fell 
 backwards. After I had done this impartially about six 
 times each way, I thought it advisable to tuck it up. I am 
 inclined now to believe that I must then have looked 
 rather more like an elderly lady going over a crossing on a 
 wet day than a bloodthirsty brigand. 
 
 I was scarcely tucked up when Duncan, who had gone 
 upstairs and told me to wait in the dressing-room till he 
 called me, came rushing down. 
 
 "Come up instantly — you'll be on in a minute. Don't 
 forget the pistols, and the sword, and the rifle, and the 
 dagger." 
 
 I had put those weapons all down while arranging the 
 cloak to my satisfaction, and I now seized them hastily, 
 and put the dagger through my belt on one side with the 
 handle downwards, and the pistols on the other side with 
 the barrels pointing upwards, so that if tliey had been 
 loaded and had gone off they must infallibly have blown
 
 126 MY FIRST AND LAST APPEARANCE. 
 
 my head off; and I clung to the sword in one hand, and to 
 some part, but I really don't know what part, of the gun in 
 the other hand, and ran after Duncan. 
 
 The moment I got to the top of the stairs the dagger 
 began to wriggle, and the weight of the handle being at the 
 wrong end, it fell out of the scabbard, and I had to pick it 
 up ; and as the scabbard had got mixed up with the belt, 
 and I could not unfasten it, I had to make dabs at it with 
 the dagger, wliich resulted in my receiving six small flesh 
 wounds, and then throwing the dagger away. I was in 
 the very act of doing so when my turn came to go on. 
 
 I am prepared to state on oath, that from the time of my 
 reaching the theatre until that moment no subject had been 
 more distant from my mind than my part. Owing to my 
 lateness, the succession of events had been so rapid and 
 startling that I had not had one instant for reflection of any 
 kind, and had given myself up to the situation like a straw 
 in a whirlwind. 
 
 Accordingly, when Duncan gave me a push and whispered, 
 " Now then, fire away ; flourish your gun, and say, " Ha ! 
 ha ! whom have we here ? " I was as much astonished at 
 the moment as if he had asked me to assassinate his 
 mother. 
 
 The scene must, I think, have been a forest. My 
 reason for thinking so is, that there were two or three ever- 
 greens and a general appearance of green paint about, and 
 that two ladies, an old and a young one, were wandering 
 up and down and trying not to see me (which was a diffi- 
 cult matter, as the size of the stage would not allow of 
 my being more than about three yards off them), and that 
 they mentioned at intervals that the carriage had broken
 
 MY FIRST AND LAST APPEARANCE. 127 
 
 down, and they feared they had lost the patli, and they 
 sincerely trusted that Heaven would not, in that very un- 
 pleasant dilemma, desert them. 
 
 I have sometimes since, in a quiet hour, speculated in 
 my mind as to whether, in happier circumstances, I might 
 have gone so far as to deliver myself of tlie ridiculous 
 observation, "Ha! ha! whom have we here?" I almost 
 think I should have got to it in time ; I seem even to 
 recall a desperate effort to clear my mind and be equal to 
 the occasion ; but at the critical moment when my lips 
 were about to move and say something — it might have 
 been " Ha ! ha ! whom have we here ? " or it miirht not ; 
 I won't pledge myself on the point — I dropped a pistol. 
 I stooped down instinctively to pick up the pistol, and 
 down went the gun, and then the other pistol, and then the 
 sword, and then the pistol I had just picked up: and the 
 more agonised I grew, and the more desperately I struggled, 
 the more hopeless I found it to retain all my weapons at 
 one and the same moment. If I got a firm hold of the 
 pistols, the gun was prostrate and the sword between my 
 legs ; if I secured the sword and one pistol, the other pistol 
 rolled about the stage like a nine-pin, and the gun fell with 
 a thud on my toe. The violence of my exertions caused 
 the arrangement by which I had fastened up my cloak to 
 give way ; and just as I had at last fairly got hold of sword, 
 gun, and pistols, and was clutching them in my arms like 
 a person nursing several babies at once, down went that 
 abominable garment to its full length, and tlie next moment 
 I had tripped up, and was rolling about the stage on my 
 back, with the implements of war on the top of me, clutched 
 in my arms as before, and hurting most dreadfully.
 
 128 MY FIRST AND LAST APPEARANCE. 
 
 I know that Duncan has denied it since, but I am posi- 
 tively certain that exactly at that moment he observed, in 
 a most unkind tone of voice from the side-wings — it is 
 painful to me to repeat his coarse language, but I must do 
 it — he observed, " Come off, you ass." 
 
 I was so convinced of it at the time, and so full of in- 
 dignation that I sat up (I couldn't stand), forgetful of audi- 
 ence and of everything but my wrongs, and threw first one 
 pistol and then another at the place from which Duncan's 
 voice came. The first one broke a plate-glass window, and 
 the other hit the stage carpenter on the head. 
 
 The discharge of these missiles was followed by an in- 
 stant burning desire for precipitate flight. I got up like 
 lightning (I managed it that time), made for the wings, 
 tore off my cloak, went upstairs, downstairs, and along 
 passages, as if pursued by all the furies ; reached the stage- 
 door, rushed past the man who was there, opened it and 
 made for home in a costume consisting of buff-coloured 
 boots up to the thighs, a leather belt about two feet wide, 
 with the scabbard of the dagger still thrust into it wrong 
 side up, and a crimson coat and trousers. I must add 
 that I was also garnished with a gigantic pair of beetle 
 eyebrows, a large black beard, and a shaggy wig. I had 
 been originally finished off with a conical-shaped hat, but 
 that must have come off somewhere, for I certainly had 
 nothing on my head, except the wig, when I started from 
 the theatre. INIy impression is, that it fell off and rolled 
 about like a pudding-basin in distress when I tumbled 
 down. 
 
 How I ever got through the streets I know not. At all 
 events, I am persuaded that if I had had to be let in at my
 
 MY FIRST AND LAST APPEARANCE. 129 
 
 lodgings by the servant, I should have been responsible 
 for her sudden death from fright. But luckily I had, from 
 some instinctive impulse, transferred my latch-key, notwith- 
 standing the haste in which I had dressed, to the pocket of 
 my theatrical costume, and I was able to let myself in. 
 
 I sent back the costume in a hamper next day, anony- 
 mously. No one ever sent me back my own clothes, and, 
 for the wealth of the Indies, I couldn't have gone to the 
 theatre to claim them. 
 
 I have stated here what I believe to have been facts that 
 actually occurred. There is only one thing which makes me 
 doubt whether my whole story is not based on some extra- 
 ordinary hallucination. It is this — that in a theatrical 
 magazine, which I took up accidentally soon after the date 
 on which I suppose these events to have happened, there 
 was contained a criticism on the performance in which I 
 had, as I thought, taken part in the character of Giuseppe 
 Diavolo, and in that criticism appeared the following 
 paragraph ; — 
 
 "The play was a melodrama of the heaviest type, and 
 it was relieved only from intolerable dulness by the irre- 
 sistibly droll acting of the gentleman who played the part 
 of a comic brigand named Giuseppe Diavolo. This actor 
 contrived, out of the slender materials of pure pantomimic 
 action, to provoke the most side-splitting laughter we ever 
 remember to have heard in a theatre, and his sudden and 
 somewhat unexplained disappearance left a blank which 
 was not supplied during the remainder of the evening."
 
 ( 130 ) 
 
 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN 
 UMBRELLA. 
 
 I AM an old umbrella now. Five — six — dear me, seven 
 years have rolled over my handle. I feel that I cannot last 
 much longer ; and as I do not want to pass away without 
 attracting any attention whatever, I feel constrained to 
 record some of the more prominent events of my career. 
 
 I cannot exactly remember the circumstances attending 
 my manufacture, or, as mortals call it, birth. Indeed, when 
 my powers of observation first began to develop, I was a 
 full-grown, and, I take leave to add, a most handsome 
 umbrella. I am sure the public thought so, as I stood bolt 
 upright in the front window of my proprietor's shop in 
 Regent Street. The way in which the passers-by looked in 
 tvas something wonderful ; and although there were several 
 hundreds of other umbrellas there as well as myself, together 
 with innumerable quantities of walking-sticks, I felt quite 
 certain then, and I see no reason now to doubt, that every 
 glance was directed wholly and exclusively at me. 
 
 I had been thus on view for a few weeks only, when one 
 day a gentleman came into the shop. He was dressed in 
 the very height of fashion, and to complete his appearance 
 one thing only was wanting. He felt this to be so, and 
 purchased me. I emerged from the shop suspended grace- 
 fully from the right hand of my new owner ; and from this
 
 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN UMBRELLA. 131 
 
 period date all the vicissitudes and adventures of my re- 
 markable career. 
 
 Within a few hours afterwards I became aware of the 
 purpose for which I was brought into existence. 
 
 A shower of rain descended. Scarcely had the first drops 
 which fell imparted a speckled appearance to the pavement, 
 when my owner touched a spring in my chest, the existence 
 of which had hitherto been a great mystery to me, and hey ! 
 presto ! I was expanded over his head, stretched out, as to 
 my silken garment, to the fullest extent, and preserving him 
 from the rain almost down to his boots. 
 
 The next four months of my life were spent in the most 
 polite and aristocratic society. I figured in the nobleman's 
 hall, the club umbrella-stand ; I was repeatedly ticketed 
 with an individual and distinctive number at balls, operas, 
 concerts, and entertainments of all sorts, to which we (that 
 is, my owner and myself) went together. 
 
 Ah me ! I love to dwell in memory upon those bright 
 young da\s, when sorrow and trouble were words unknown 
 to me ! 
 
 One afternoon my owner started forth to pay a visit to 
 his lady-love. 
 
 Oh ! fatal journey ! Oh ! most unhappy day ! The 
 lover's ardour, which caused him to get into a cab, caused 
 him, when he got out of it, to forget — yes, absolutely to for- 
 get — me ! Words fail to paint the agony I endured as the 
 cab drove away with me in it. 
 
 The driver of my moving prison soon stopped, and getting 
 down, entered a gin palace. Imagine the feelings — but no, 
 you cannot ; it is impossible — of a high-bred, delicate-minded 
 and aristocratic umbrella in these harrowing circumstances !
 
 132 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN UMBRELLA. 
 
 To be in the power of a man at once a cab-driver and a 
 frequenter of taverns ; to be even now waiting for him to 
 emerge from his disgusting orgie, with the positive certainty 
 that in a very short time he could not fail to discover and 
 take bodily possession of me ! It was, indeed, terrible. 
 
 At length he came out from a door, on which was 
 written "Bar entrance." He was a stereotyped speci- 
 men of his race. His only visible garment was an enor- 
 mous coat, which extended nearly to his feet, and the 
 upper part of which seemed to be composed of an in- 
 definite number of folds, presenting in their entirety the 
 appearance of a gigantic pen-wiper drooping under the 
 influence of reduced circumstances. From the top of it 
 emerged a visage composed, as to colour, of a delicately 
 proportioned mixture of red and purple, with perhaps 
 just the slightest preponderance of purple. His hat 
 might have ornamented the head of a racing man on 
 the occasion of the first celebration of the Derby. 
 
 A moment afterwards and he was gloating over me, mur- 
 muring at intervals ecstatic observations such as " My heye ! 
 wot a stunner ! 'Ere's pickles and sauce ! " 
 
 He put me under his driver's box during the remainder 
 of his day's work, where my misery was augmented by the 
 close proximity of a clay pipe, a piece of bread and cheese 
 done up in newspaper, an old waistcoat, done up in point 
 of wear, but not in any other way, one driving-glove, and a 
 broken mug smelling intensely and simultaneously of gin 
 and porter. 
 
 Let me pass quickly ove? the indignities which succeeded. 
 Suffice it to say, that I had been in the unlawful possession 
 of this ruffian for scarcely twelve hours, when I was handed
 
 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN UMBRELLA. 133 
 
 by him over the counter of a low pawnbroker, who abso- 
 lutely declined, however, to give more than a few shillings 
 for me. 
 
 Once more, now, I was put into a shop window ; but oh ! 
 under what different circumstances, and amid what different 
 surroundings ! My present abode was situated in one of 
 the very lowest quarters of London, and its proprietor was 
 a pawnbroker of doubtful — or rather of not doubtful — 
 reputation. 
 
 A good many flies came into the parlour of this par- 
 ticular spider by a peculiar side entrance, but certainly not 
 on account of its being the prettiest they had ever spied. 
 Everything about the shop was dingy to such an extent, 
 that if the principal commodity oftercd for sale had been 
 dinginess itself (done up in pound and half-pound packets, 
 the proprietor would have been stocked for hfe, and must 
 have secured an overpowering custom. 
 
 I stood upright, but melancholy, surrounded by a Dutch 
 clock, a mattress, and two brass candlesticks, all of which 
 articles had been undergoing a gradual process of removal 
 to this evil shop without the necessity for any assistance 
 by road or rail on the part of Taylor's vans. 
 
 I soon began to fade and droop in lliis liatcful place, and 
 to catch the prevailing dinginess. My handle ceased to 
 glisten, while my silk covering and ferrule assumed a dull 
 and shabby appearance. Bitterly did I regret the change 
 which had befallen me, and many were the tears which I 
 would have shed, if I could, over my master, now lost to mc 
 for ever. 
 
 I think I must have led this weary life for about six 
 months, when once more I underwent a change. A vain
 
 134 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN UMBRELLA. 
 
 young man, who was engaged behind the counter of a 
 haberdasher's shop in the neighbourhood, had gazed wist- 
 fully at me on several occasions. At last, unable to resist 
 the desire of becoming my possessor, he entered my pro- 
 prietor's establishment one morning, and, after a good deal 
 of haggling on both sides, he became my owner for the 
 sum of seven shillings and sixpence. 
 
 I was now the property of a thoroughbred not-to-be- 
 raistaken snob. I was bought for the express purpose of 
 being paraded about the streets on Sundays and other days 
 of rest and recreation, identified with, and forming part of, 
 a get-up, the leading features of which were a preternaturally 
 and most offensively shiny suit of black cloth, a scarlet tie, 
 a blue-and-white shirt and collar, a hat consisting almost 
 entirely of brim, a sham gold watch-chain, and a pair of 
 green kid gloves. 
 
 I proved but a poor bargain to him. My silk covering, 
 which had been shamefully neglected at the pawnbroker's 
 shop, began to slit and tear the very first time he opened 
 me. Finding this to be so, he folded me up very carefully 
 in such wise as not to reveal my shabbiness, and, fully per- 
 suaded that this was a remarkably clever artifice, he would 
 walk through the streets in the rain without opening me, in 
 a manner truly ridiculous. 
 
 It chanced that one Sunday afternoon my snob started 
 off for a walk, taking me with him as usual. It was a very 
 windy day, and we had not been out long when down came 
 the rain. My snob stood both elements bravely for some 
 time, but at last he began to get so wet that fears for his 
 hat and scarlet tie induced him to open me. Just as he 
 did so a violent gust of wind came, which, catching my ex-
 
 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN UMBRELLA. 135 
 
 tended surface, blew me upwards with such force that my 
 snob was nearly lifted off the ground in his efforts to main- 
 tain his hold of me. Suddenly an intense wrenching pain 
 shot through me, and my whole organisation appeared to 
 be displaced by a convulsion. I was, in point of fact, 
 blown inside out. What happened then I cannot say, for 
 I fainted away. 
 
 It must have been next morning, I think, when I came 
 to a state of consciousness. I found myself in a back 
 corner of the haberdasher's shop, suffering acute agony in 
 my ribs, two of which I could feel were unmistakably frac- 
 tured, while my silk covering was hopelessly torn and my 
 whole system terribly upset. 
 
 What was to become of me now ? I wondered. The 
 problem was soon solved. 
 
 There was a pale, thin, fragile-looking young girl attached 
 to the shop, who came daily from a long distance, and 
 worked there, ever so many hours, at shirt-making. Very 
 often, too, she would start late at night from the shop, after 
 plying her needle from the early morning, and take work 
 with her, to be done, I conjectured, in some poor lodging. 
 And yet, despite her arduous labour, she seemed to earn 
 scarcely enough to keep herself from absolute want. I 
 found out the reason afterwards. 
 
 Now my snob was a nephew of the haberdasher, and 
 a person of much importance in the shop, while the poor 
 little shirt-maker was a person of no importance whatever. 
 Moreover, my snob, whose one great object in life was to be 
 mistaken for a gentleman, considered it a very fine and gentle- 
 manly thing to be habitually insolent and rude to the de- 
 fenceless little shirt-maker. In fi^c t, my snob had formed 
 a noble and lofty ideal of the attributes of a gentleman.
 
 136 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN UMBRELLA. 
 
 On this particular morning he was in a very affable and 
 condescending humour, and when the little shirt-maker 
 came up into the shop from the wretched underground 
 room allotted for her to work in, he thus addressed her — 
 " I say, you there, I smashed my humbreller yesterday, and 
 as it's all broke and don't look genteel, I can't use it any 
 more, and I'll give it to you. It's hup in that corner there." 
 
 The little shirt-maker thanked him humbly, and advanc- 
 ing to where I stood, took me in her thin hands and con- 
 veyed me downstairs with her. Despite the intense pain 
 from which I was still suffering, this change of ownership 
 caused me the keenest delight, for I had often seen the poor 
 girl come into the shop dripping with rain, and I had longed 
 to shelter her from the pitiless elements. 
 
 Late that night we started off together, she holding my 
 injured ribs in their original places in a way that greatly 
 alleviated my sufferings. 
 
 It was a long, long walk for the poor child, and she was 
 but thinly clad, and her boots were full of holes ; but she 
 went steadily on ; and as we neared our journey's end, each 
 street seemed dirtier and more squalid than the last. 
 
 At length she stopped before the door of an old tumble- 
 down house, the last repairing lease of which must have 
 terminated in the time of William the Conqueror or there- 
 abouts. Every pane of glass in the front windows was 
 broken, and the air admitted by the fracture was excluded 
 by a piece of paper or rag, as the fancy of the inmates dic- 
 tated, the result being a considerable diminution of light to 
 the inhabitants, and a not ornamental appearance when 
 viewed from the exterior. 
 
 Opening a ricketty old door, which creaked out in quaver-
 
 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN UMBRELLA. 137 
 
 ing tones its remembrances of better days, the little shirt- 
 maker entered the house. 
 
 Up we went flight after flight of stairs (every floor repre- 
 senting the abode of several large families and a (ew casual 
 single men) until we came to the very top floor of all, and, 
 in a moment, the whole life of the little shirt-maker was 
 presented to me at a glance. 
 
 No wonder that her face was pale and careworn, and that 
 her clothes were poor and shabby. An invalid mother, with 
 three little children, lived in that room utterly dependent for 
 support upon the shirt-maker's scanty earnings. I found 
 out soon afterwards that her father, who had held a good 
 position as captain in a merchant vessel, had started on a 
 voyage a few years previously, and nothing had been heard 
 of him since by his wife and children. Since that time 
 they had been travelling down the hill of poverty at a fear- 
 ful pace, despite the efforts of this brave girl to arrest their 
 journey ; and the mother, never strong, had utterly broken 
 down in health. 
 
 Before going to bed that night my new mistress, who had 
 put me carefully in a corner, iVom which (utterly oblivious 
 to my wounds) I had watched her wiih the greatest interest 
 as she prepared the tea, looked after the children, and 
 lovingly tended her sick mother, took hold of me, and, 
 with a skill and ingenuity which were absolutely marvellous, 
 set my broken ribs in their original places ; having done 
 which her busy needle was soon running in and out of my 
 torn silk cover until all the tears and holes of any size had 
 disappeared, and I, although my beauty had fled for ever, 
 was transformed into a very serviceable umbrella. 
 
 From that night we became inseparable companions,
 
 138 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN UMBRELLA. 
 
 and many and many a time have I sheltered her from rain 
 or snow as we journeyed together to and from the haber- 
 dasher's shop. For the first time since I lost my first 
 master I became happy and contented. To watch this 
 heroic, self-sacrificing girl — to be of some use to her — I 
 desired no better destiny. 
 
 Time passed on, and I grew very, very shabby, but my 
 framework continued very hale and well for an umbrella 
 who had been through as much as I had ; and the little 
 shirt-maker had become so much attached to me that I 
 do not believe she would have abandoned me if nothing 
 had been left of me but my stick. 
 
 The poor child could not afford to have me re-covered 
 with even the cheapest material. It was hard, hard work 
 to provide daily bread for the four mouths at home ; and 
 little thought did she give to any wants of her own. 
 
 So we lived on, getting worn and shabby together. The 
 little shirt-maker never complained of her lot, and was ever 
 ready with a cheerful word and smile for her sick mother 
 and little brothers and sisters ; but her poor pale face 
 grew thinner and thinner, and her health began visibly to 
 give way. She was earning but a few paltry shillings a 
 week in this world, but it is the solemn belief of this old 
 and reflective umbrella that she was day by day heaping 
 up treasures in another and better world, compared with 
 which the whole wealth of Europe, Asia, Africa, and 
 America would show a very poor sum total. 
 
 One evening we left the haberdasher's shop together. 
 The little shirt-maker was even unusually late ; and her 
 limbs were heavy, and she was very, very tired. Never- 
 theless she hastened on, anxious to dispel any fears which
 
 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN UMBRELLA. 139 
 
 her unusual lateness might create at home. Quite wearied 
 out, and supporting herself partly on me, she reached the 
 old house at last. 
 
 A great, big, burly, sun-burnt man was lingering about, 
 apparently uncertain which way to go. Just as the little 
 shirt-maker was opening the ricketty door he advanced 
 quickly towards her, and accosted her thus — 
 
 " Can ye tell me, my lass, whether a Mrs. Murley and 
 her children hail anywhere about this queer place ? " His 
 voice trembled, and he seemed very much troubled. 
 
 The little shirt-maker started violently, and looked 
 hastily into his face. In an instant the one word 
 " Father ! " rang through the air, and she was sobbing in 
 his arms. 
 
 Yes, it was father — come back from shipwreck and perils 
 of every sort — come back with health and wealth — an 
 earthly father sent to the little shirt-maker by her Heavenly 
 Father to take from her slender, sinking shoulders the 
 burden she had so long, so unflinchingly supported. 
 
 I was dropped on the pavement; but I didn't mind in 
 the least, not I ! I was in a state of frantic joy, and I 
 hugged an adjacent straw till it grew black in the face. 
 
 Soon I was picked up, and we all went in together. 
 Who can picture, who can realise, the joy of that united 
 family? I neither can nor shall attempt it — for I should 
 be certain to tarnish this interesting autobiography by 
 breaking down miserably. 
 
 I need not say how soon and how gladly the family 
 quitted the top floor of the tumble-down old house ; neither 
 need I expatiate upon the manner in which they were 
 looked at as they descended the stairs for the last time by
 
 I40 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN UMBRELLA. 
 
 the inmates, amounting in number to about a hundred and 
 twenty-seven people, amongst whom a rumour was current 
 to the effect that somebody had come back from the sea 
 for the express purpose of taking the fourth floor back 
 away. 
 
 I went with the family to their new abode, and I have 
 been moved only once since that time. It was when Rose 
 Murley (that was the little shirt-maker's name) left her 
 father's roof, with the blessing which she so richly deserved, 
 to become a proud, happy wife. She took me to her new 
 home, and installed me there with her own hands. 
 
 I have never heard or seen anything of my first owner 
 since we parted company in the cab. 
 
 My snob came to see us very soon after the little shirt- 
 maker's circumstances had undergone so great a change. 
 He was dressed exactly as of old, save that his black cloth 
 waistcoat had been abandoned for a seven-and-sixpenny 
 production, which he had purchased, fully believing it to 
 be sealskin. It was, as a matter of fact, composed of the 
 skins of one or two adjacent cats, dyed brown. His recep- 
 tion was of so extremely cold a character, that my snob, 
 who had, he said, "just dropped in to see how his friend 
 Miss Murley was getting on," speedily dropped out again, 
 and returned no more. 
 
 When looking at the newspaper some time since, I 
 observed, with much gratification, that the pawnbroker in 
 whose shop I passed so many miserable days was sentenced 
 to seven years' transportation by an unfeeling judge, for 
 making the little mistake of receiving certain goods, well (in 
 fact, intimately) knowing the same to have been stolen. 
 
 I am breaking fast now, and I suffer a good deal from
 
 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF^AN UMBRELLA. 141 
 
 rust and stiffness in the ribs — a sure sign, in an umbrella, of 
 coming dissolution. But of this I am quite certain, that, 
 when I am dead, so long as one part of my framework 
 adheres to another, so long, in fact, as there is anything of 
 me to keep, so long will my dear mistress keep me.
 
 * ( 142 ^ 
 
 SNIFFY TOODLEKINS; 
 
 OR, 
 
 ALL BUT A TRAGEDY. 
 
 The heart of Sniffy Toodlekins was heavy — heavy as lead, 
 and his brow was clouded, as he sat at tea that evening, 
 with his father and mother, and all his younger brothers and 
 sisters (for Sniffy was the eldest son and heir of the house 
 of Toodlekins), vainly endeavouring to derive comfort from 
 bread and butter, and consolation from hot muffins. 
 
 There was a look of melancholy despair upon his face — ■ 
 a look which seemed to say, " I am only fifteen, but I have 
 done with this cold, heartless world." 
 
 For the tenderest susceptibilities of Sniffy's heart had 
 been most cruelly outraged. Matilda Simpson, the cherished 
 object of his now blighted heart, had been false — that is to 
 say, she hadn't exactly been true — to him. To be sure, there 
 were mitigating circumstances in the case. For instance, 
 JNIatilda — now, alas ! no longer Matilda Simpson, but Matilda 
 Scroggie— was twenty-five years old, and consequently 
 ten years older than the love-lorn Sniffy. INIoreover, 
 Matilda was perfectly unconscious of having inspired such 
 a consuming flame in the breast of Sniffy ; for he had 
 never avowed the circumstance to her, or indeed to any 
 living creature.
 
 SNIFFY TOODLEKINS. 143 
 
 Now the author of SnifFy's being was the proprietor of a 
 baker's shop in Westminster, while IMatilda's papa kept an 
 estabhshment just opposite, behind the counter of which 
 Matilda had (previously to her becoming Mrs. Scroggie) 
 been in the habit of dispensing most sticky " sticks " and 
 most rocky " rock " to the younger inhabitants of the 
 locality. 
 
 Thus was it that Sniffy had met his fate. He came to 
 the sweetmeat shop for the purpose of investing one penny 
 in the purchase of almond-rock — he saw the divine Matilda 
 — he was conquered ! 
 
 Many and many a time since had he lingered over that 
 counter ; many were the excuses which he had devised for 
 the purpose of prolonging his visits. But now all was over. 
 Without having ever hinted to Sniffy her intention of taking 
 such a step, Matilda had — married ; yes, absolutely married 
 a person named Scroggie ! 
 
 Consequently Snifty felt that for all practical purposes 
 his life was over. Existence without Matilda was insupport- 
 able, unendurable. 
 
 So he sat that evening in moody silence ; and, as I 
 before observed, his heart was heavy as lead and his brow 
 was clouded. 
 
 Suddenly he rose from the table, and, seizing his cap 
 without a word, darted out of the back-parlour into the 
 shop, and out of the shop into the street. 
 
 " I can't make out wot's come hover our Sniffv," remarked 
 Mrs. Toodlckins, a thoroughly comfortable-looking matron 
 of indefinite size ; " 'e's that strange and queer, as I can't 
 hunderstand. I'd give fippence to know wot it is, that I 
 would ! ''
 
 144 SNIFFY TOODLEKINS; OR, 
 
 Mrs. Toodlekins looked round, as though ready to pro- 
 duce the amount she had named to anybody who might 
 feel disposed to accept her terms. 
 
 " I dunno, my dear, no more than what you do," was the 
 response of Mr. Toodlekins — a tall, thin man, who lived in 
 a perpetual state of flour, from which commodity his face 
 and garments were never free by any chance. 
 
 In an equal state of ignorance were all the assembled 
 offspring of Mr. and Mrs. Toodlekins^albeit Toodlekins 
 Number Six, who liked coppers and was not truthful, at 
 once made up his mind to concoct a story by the following 
 morning, accounting in some manner for the lamentable 
 state of Sniffy, in the hope and expectation of obtaining 
 fivepence for the same. 
 
 Sniffy walked along the street at a wild hurried pace; 
 then he took the first turning to the right. Subsequently 
 he took the second turning to the left. Finally Sniffy went 
 into a chemist's shop — still with the same look of fearful, 
 hidden meaning on his pallid visage. He addressed the 
 man who was in the shop thus — 
 
 "If you please, I want three ha'porth of prussian assic." 
 The man looked very much astonished. 
 
 " Oh ! you want some prussic acid, do you ? " said he. 
 
 "Yes, please, I want some prussian assic." 
 
 " What do you want it for ? " 
 
 "Never mind, please." 
 
 The man looked hard at Sniffy, as if undecided. Then 
 he filled a small bottle with liquid, put a label of "poison" 
 on it, and handed it to Sniffy. Sniffy tendered three-half- 
 pence. 
 
 " Ohj never mind the money," said the man.
 
 ALL BUT A TRAGEDY. 145 
 
 Sniffy pressed it on liini, but the man obstinately re- 
 fused to take it ; and Sniffy was obliged to replace the 
 coppers in his pocket, and leave the shop holding the little 
 bottle tight. 
 
 Out into the street again — hurrying along — looking now 
 to the right and now to the left, as if pursued by some 
 hidden demon — Sniffy soon reached home. Passing 
 through the shop, and without rejoining the Toodlekins 
 family, he went straight upstairs to the room in which he, 
 together with various other Toodlekinses, slept. 
 
 " Was that Sniffy as come in then ? " asked Mrs. Toodle- 
 kins, as she heard his step on the stairs. 
 
 " Yes, mother," screamed eight Toodlekinses in various 
 keys of the treble voice. 
 
 A minute or two afterwards the voice of Sniffy was heard 
 above shouting, " Father ! Mother ! Everybody ! Come 
 up quick." 
 
 " Good gracious ! " said Mrs. Toodlekins, starting up in 
 great alarm. " Has the boy been and set hisself on fire ? " 
 
 Forthwith did Mrs. Toodlekins ponderously rush to the 
 stairs and begin to ascend them, followed by Mr. Toodle- 
 kins, who was in his turn followed by the eight small 
 Toodlekinses. In such a close and continuous chain did 
 the Toodlekins family make the ascent, that the casual 
 observer might have supposed them to be indulging in a 
 game of mother-goose. 
 
 A harrowing sight was presented to their view when they 
 entered the room from which Snifify's voice had proceeded. 
 He was lying on the bed, looking remarkably pale in the 
 face, and giving vent at intervals to the ejaculation, " Oh ! " 
 
 "Wy, Sniffy — wot — are — the matter?" inquired, or 
 
 K
 
 146 SNIFFY TOODLEKINS; OR, 
 
 rather panted Mrs. Toodlekins, who was much out of 
 breath. 
 
 " Oh ! father, and mother, and Sally, and Bob, and every 
 one, I've been and done a dreadful thing," responded the 
 prostrate youth, in hollow tones. 
 
 " Wot, you ain't been and robbed a till ? " inquired Mr. 
 Toodlekins, who considered this to be the greatest crime 
 of which Sniffy could possibly be guilty. 
 
 "Or torn a 'ole in your noo trousers?" added Mrs. 
 Toodlekins, who considered this to be the greatest crime 
 of which Sniffy could possibly be guilty. 
 
 " No, father, and mother, and Sally, and Bob, and every 
 one : it's much worser than that. 0-o-o-h ! " 
 
 '■Oh! mussey, wot 'ave you been a-doing hof. Sniffy?" 
 said Mrs. Toodlekins. Simultaneously Mrs. Toodlekins 
 began to cry ; whereat the eight small Toodlekinses began 
 to cry also : whereat Sniffy began to cry also. 
 
 " Oh ! mo-ther, and fa-ther, and Sally, and B-b-b-ob, and 
 every one, I've be-en and go-one and to-ok Pison ! " 
 
 At this tragic announcement the eight small Toodle- 
 kinses gave forth eight loud screams. Mr. Toodlekins lost 
 all power of movement and expression. But as for Mrs. 
 Toodlekins, although she turned very pale, the mother was 
 strong within her. 
 
 " Where did you get it, Snifty ? " she asked hurriedly. 
 
 "A-at Sweedleby's, the che-mist, in Thumby Stre-e-e-t ; 
 
 a-and I d-d-d-on't think I wa-a-nt to d-d-d-ie now, and I 
 
 wish I hadn't ta-ta-ta-ken it ! " responded the sobbing Sniffy. 
 
 Quick as lightning Mrs. Toodlekins turned to her still 
 
 motionless spouse. 
 
 "Don't stand staring there, man. Run to Sweedleby's
 
 ALL BUT A TRAGEDY. 147 
 
 this minute, and tell 'im as the boy wot bought some pison 
 there this evening 'as been and swollered it; and if'e don't 
 give Sniffy summut to make 'is inside right in two two's, 
 we'll 'ave him transported for pretty larceny, for selling pison 
 to a mere boy." 
 
 Mr. Toodlekins did not seem to grasp immediately the 
 idea of his being gifted with powers of movement, but 
 happening, when gazing up and down in a perfectly vacant 
 manner, to see his legs, the purpose to which they might 
 be turned on this occasion suddenly occurred to him. And 
 Mr. Toodlekins vanished at the precise moment when Mrs. 
 Toodlekins was preparing to restore him to a state of sub- 
 lunary consciousness by the application of a vigorous shake. 
 
 The scene which ensued during the absence of Mr. 
 Toodlekins was pathetic beyond description. 
 
 Mrs. Toodlekins knelt down by the recumbent Sniffy, and 
 the eight small Toodlekinses grouped themselves round and 
 on the bed in divers attitudes of youthful woe. 
 
 " Where do yer feel it. Sniffy ? " This inquiry proceeded 
 from Mrs. Toodlekins. 
 
 Sniffy felt it all over "inside," and gave a sobbing answer 
 to that effect. 
 
 "Wot did the 'orrid stuff taste like, lovey?" continued 
 his mamma. 
 
 " It tasted drcad-dread-dread-ful nasty," returned Sniffy 
 convulsively. 
 
 " Wot /ict'cr made yer take it ? " 
 
 " I can't t-t-t-t-ell you." Sniffy was reticent on the sub- 
 ject of his affections, even at this awful moment. 
 
 Sniffy had been rolling about all this time in a state of 
 internal pain most distressing to witness. But suddenly a
 
 148 SNIFFY TOODLEKINSj OR, 
 
 change came o'er the expiring boy. His sobs grew less 
 frequent, he ceased to roll about, and even his face showed 
 signs of returning colour. Considered in a thoroughly pro- 
 saic lisrht it was obvious that his inside was more at ease. 
 Doubtless it was a lull before Sniffy must cease to be Sniffy, 
 and become a corpse ! 
 
 No longer distracted with pain, Sniffy bethought him of 
 addressing a few parting words to his weeping relatives. 
 He lay quite still now, and his voice was clear and firm. 
 
 "Mother, I don't feel no pain now, but it'll soon be all 
 over. I wish as I 'adn't gone for to do it ; but I 'opes you'll 
 forgive me." 
 
 " Ho, Sniffy ; my parding you know you 'as ! " inter- 
 jected Mrs. Toodlekins. 
 
 " Sally, I've often slapped you ; but you giv' it me back 
 just as 'ard, now didn't you ? " 
 
 Sally, unable to respond for weeping, gave several very 
 expressive bobs of the head to indicate her acquiescence in 
 the truth of the remark. 
 
 " And Bob and Dick, I walloped you frequent, which I 
 shan't do no more when I'm gone ; not once, no never. 
 And, Wobby " [this was the avaricious and untruthful Too- 
 dlekins before mentioned], "there's fourpence in my little 
 box downstairs, wich you may 'ave for your very hown." 
 
 Now the effect of this last bequest upon the legatee in 
 futuro was peculiar. The avaricious and untruthful Too- 
 dlekins was seized with a violent and (under the solemn cir- 
 cumstances) scandalous desire to take a precipitate departure 
 from the room for the express purpose of acquiring instant 
 possession of this unexpected treasure. The avaricious and 
 untruthful Toodlekins felt, on the other hand, that so inde-
 
 ALL BUT A TRAGEDY. 149 
 
 cent and unfeeling a procedure on his part would excite in 
 the bosom of Mrs. Toodlekins a wrath which would inevi- 
 tably take the form of several very painful and accurately 
 planted slaps. The result of this conflict in his mind was a 
 succession of hurried and sudden starts for the door, before 
 reaching which he would stop and come back to Snifly's 
 bedside. 
 
 Sniffy, who had paused to take breath, was about to 
 resume his touching observations, when a step was heard 
 on the stairs, and in another moment Mr. Toodlekins was 
 before them. 
 
 Down the visage of Mr. Toodlekins two distinct channels 
 were running between banks and fields of flour. He was 
 weeping fears of laughter ! 
 
 The family looked perfectly aghast at him, but he con- 
 tinued to stand just inside the door shaking with laughter, 
 and apparently not the least ashamed of himself. 
 
 " The man's gone stark mad ! " almost yelled Mrs. 
 Toodlekins. 
 
 " I'm very sorry, my dear," began Mr. Toodlekins apolo- 
 getically, when he was seized with another fit of laughter, 
 which completely overpowered his faculties of utterance. 
 
 Mrs. Toodlekins, exasperated beyond all degree, made a 
 plunge at her unfeeling spouse, and, seizing him by the 
 collar, shook him fiercely— until Mr. Toodlekins, arriving 
 at the conclusion that this, although a shaking, was anything 
 but a laughing matter, was fain to shout, "For goodness' 
 sake, let be, and I'll tell you all about it." 
 
 Mrs. Toodlekins, thus adjured, relinquished her grasp. 
 
 " 'Ave you been to Sweedleby's, you brute ? " she gasped. 
 
 " In coorse I 'ave, and that's just what I'm a-laughing
 
 I50 SNIFFY TOODLEKINS. 
 
 at." [Mr. Toodlekins here showed a disposition to relapse, 
 but a warning movement on the part of Mrs. Toodlekins 
 enabled him to subdue the inclination.] " Sweedleby says 
 as 'ow 'e thought as Sniffy were not after no good ; con- 
 sequently Sweedleby gave him a summit as 'e called by a 
 name as nearly brought his front teeth out to pernounce, 
 which were calkilated, 'e says, to make Sniffy feel uncom- 
 fortable for a little time in his habdormineral parts, but 
 wich were not pison at all, no, not in no wise 'owsoever." 
 
 To describe the revulsion from sorrow to joy through 
 which the Toodlekins family passed on this announcement, 
 and the mingled shame and relief of the rescued Sniffy, 
 would be impossible. I said the family, but I was wrong. 
 The avaricious and untruthful Toodlekins No. 6 did not 
 participate in their rejoicings, but, on the contrary, looked 
 sulky. That depraved young person had conclusively 
 settled in his own mind the precise manner in which his 
 expected legacy should be laid out (to wit, in a judicious 
 proportion of marbles, peppermint and acidulated drops), 
 and it was patent to him that this sudden turn of affairs 
 would infallibly result in his losing the bequest. 
 
 Sniffy Toodlekins bound up his broken heart, and even- 
 tually presented it, thus repaired, to a little girl who had 
 assisted his lost Matilda in the sweetmeat shop. The little 
 girl became a big girl in process of time, and has been 
 Mrs, Sniffy Toodlekins for several years.
 
 151 ) 
 
 UNDER THE SURFACE. 
 
 " When IS he coming down ? " 
 
 This query had been propounded some five and twenty 
 times by various members of the numerous family of Squire 
 Heathcote as they sat at breakfast one summer's morn- 
 ing — and echo had with monotonous regularity repeated 
 "When?" in a doleful and interrogative manner on every 
 occasion. 
 
 In truth, it was now nearly ten o'clock — the squire's break- 
 fast-hour being nine — notwithstanding which circumstance 
 the "he" alluded to had not exhibited the slightest indica- 
 tion of an intention cither to get up or (which was more 
 to the point) to come down. 
 
 The individual who formed the subject of this inquiry 
 was none other than Dashleigh Heathcote, a nephew of 
 the squire's, who had arrived on a visit to Beechley Hall 
 (the squire's mansion) at a late hour on the previous night. 
 The squire had not seen his nephew since llic latter was a 
 mere child. He was now perhaps twenty-five. 
 
 " When is he coming down ? " 
 
 This time it was Laura, the squire's eldest daughter, who 
 spoke. 
 
 " You see, my dear," said Mrs. Heathcote, " he came from 
 a long distance yesterday, and is very likely tired. Still, it 
 is a strange thing that he should not be down by ten o'clock. 
 Can Robert have forgotten to call him ? "
 
 152 UNDER THE SURFACE. 
 
 Robert, the footman, was forthwith summoned. 
 
 " Did you call Mr. Dashleigh this morning, Robert ? " 
 
 " 'E-es, mum," answered Robert, with a broad grin ; " I 
 called Mr. 'Eathcote times out o' number, because I didn't 
 hear him a-moving after I'd called him previous. And when 
 I went up the last time, mum, he asked from hinside the 
 room who it was, and I said it was me ! And he says, 
 ' Who's me ? ' And I says, ' Robert.' So he says, ' Very well, 
 Robert,' he says, ' don't you go making yourself needless 
 warm on such a hot day,' he says, 'by a-banging away 
 at my door,' he says. ' You might make yourself hill,' he 
 says; 'and then think how the family would miss you!' 
 He spoke, mum, in a strange, lazy kind of woice, mum." 
 
 " You may go, Robert." 
 
 "Thankee, mum." 
 
 " What a very strange fellow he must be," said the squire ; 
 and everybody at table agreed with him. As for the young 
 ladies, they were inclined to think it a slight on the part of 
 their cousin that he should not have come down early for 
 the express purpose of making friends with them. 
 
 A quarter-past ten. It was really too bad ; and they could 
 wait at table no longer. 
 
 Just as this conclusion had been arrived at the culprit 
 entered the room. 
 
 He was a tall fellow — upwards of six feet high, and the 
 depth of his chest and general appearance gave indications 
 of great physical strength. His face presented a strange 
 contrast. It was a handsome face, rendered still more so 
 by a luxuriant head of black curly hair, and the firm cut of 
 the mouth was by no means suggestive of a wavering dis- 
 position. But the expression on his features was one of
 
 UNDER THE SURFACE. 153 
 
 intense languor, amounting almost to sleepiness, and every 
 movement of his herculean frame was made as if it involved 
 an exertion too great ever to be repeated. 
 
 He looked carelessly at the breakfast table. Then he 
 shook hands with the squire and Mrs. Heathcote, Jack, 
 Laura, and Amy, and, to the speechless indignation of the 
 younger members of the family, nodded to them collectively 
 in the laziest manner. 
 
 " Fear I'm rather late," said he in what Robert had truly 
 described as a lazy voice ; " fact is, I'm never equal to 
 much exertion, but least of all in hot weather." 
 
 The squire and Jack glanced at him with a look in whicli 
 amusement was not unmixed with contempt. 
 
 " Oh ! never mind, Dashleigh. I'll ring for some hot 
 breakfast at once," replied Mrs. Heathcote. 
 
 " Thanks — sorry to trouble you." 
 
 They could not make him out. 
 
 Hot breakfast arrived in due course, and Dashleigh pro- 
 ceeded to cat it in the languid, deliberate manner which 
 seemed to characterise his every movement. Of the fact 
 that everybody else had finished long since and was looking 
 intently at him (a state of things which in a general way 
 leads to much gulping of hot tea and swallowing of fish- 
 bones on the part of the observed), he appeared as un- 
 conscious as if they were individually and collectively at 
 the Antipodes. 
 
 "You shoot, of course, Dashleigh?" said the squire, by 
 way of opening a conversation with this remarkable visitor. 
 
 " No— I don't." 
 
 " Fish ? " 
 
 " No."
 
 154 UNDER THE SURFACE. 
 
 "Hunt?" 
 
 " Can't say I do." 
 
 " Are you fond of walking ? " 
 
 " Can't bear it." 
 
 "Riding?" 
 
 " No— I'm not." 
 
 At each of Dashleigh's answers in the negative to these 
 questions addressed to him by the squire, the faces of the 
 elder ones round the table had fallen several degrees. 
 Commencing with temperate, they had now got to zero. 
 What in the world was to be done with this great big fellow 
 who seemed unable to do anything whatever with himself? 
 
 Mrs. Heathcote telegraphed her despair to Laura, Laura 
 passed it on to Amy, Amy propelled it to Jack, and Jack 
 communicated it straightway by means of blank looks to 
 the squire. 
 
 The squire, who dearly loved all outdoor sports, was 
 much annoyed, 
 
 "I wonder," he said, "that a fine big fellow like you 
 should be unable to join in any of these sports." 
 
 " Oh ! of course I can do all that kind of thing," answered 
 Dashleigh in the same listless tone ; " I fancied you asked 
 me whether I did do them — and I never do when I can 
 help it, because it involves exertion, and exertion is such 
 a nuisance." 
 
 The squire smiled in spite of himself 
 
 "You don't look as if exertion ought to have much effect 
 upon yo!/r frame, Dashleigh. But I don't know how in the 
 world we shall be able to amuse you ? " 
 
 " Please don't try to amuse me. It makes both the 
 persons who amuse and the person who is, or tries to be.
 
 UNDER THE SURE ACE. 155 
 
 amused so dreadfully hot. I suppose there are grass mounds 
 within easy distance of the house ? " 
 
 Tlie squire laughed outright. 
 
 " Plenty ; but wliy in the world do you ask ? " 
 
 " By your permission, I will lie on them and smoke — or, 
 if I feel very active, read." 
 
 This answer so astonished the squire that he relapsed 
 into total silence. 
 
 Dashleigh having finished breakfast at last, Jack proposed 
 to him an adjournment to the stables for the purpose of 
 inspecting the squire's nags, and to tliis proposition, on 
 being fully satisfied that they were not far distant from the 
 house, Dashleigh acceded. 
 
 " What do you think of him ? " 
 
 This inquiry proceeded simultaneously from the lips of 
 the squire, Mrs. Heathcote, Laura, Amy, and all the young 
 members of the family the instant the door had closed 
 upon Jack and the indolent young Samson. 
 
 " I think he's a great big puppy," said the squire, who 
 could not forgive Dashleigh for his indifference to field 
 sports. 
 
 " Perhaps there is something beneath the surface which 
 we have not seen yet," said Mrs. Heathcote in her quiet, 
 gentle way. 
 
 " I don't think I like him at all," said Laura. 
 
 " I don't think he's a bit nice," said Amy. 
 
 "I think he's horrid," said all the young ones in a 
 juvenile burst of outraged dignity. 
 
 Scarcely had the family thus announced their opinions 
 of the new-comer, when Jack returned, looking extremely 
 out of temper.
 
 156 UNDER THE SURFACE. 
 
 " The lazy brute ! " exclaimed that young gentleman. 
 "I showed him the horses, and then I tried to get him 
 to go for a ride, or do something; but all he would say 
 was, that I really must excuse him, but he never did 
 anything in hot weather, because it made him so warm, 
 and was such a nuisance. As he wouldn't do anything, 
 I left him to himself. There, look at him now," added 
 Jack, pointing out of the breakfast-room window to the 
 lawn. 
 
 Thus adjured, all looked out of the window at the precise 
 moment when Dashleigh, who had walked round from the 
 stables on to the lawn, was quietly settling down upon a 
 tempting slope of grass. Chancing to look up, he saw the 
 family assembled at the windows of the breakfast-room ; but 
 without exhibiting the smallest surprise, he nodded slightly, 
 and proceeded to light a cigar. Having done this, he sank 
 back, and lay extended at full length, apparently engaged 
 in placidly contemplating the curling wreaths of smoke 
 which he puffed from his mouth. 
 
 "Well! he is the very incarnation of everything that's 
 cool," said Jack. 
 
 " In that case," remarked Laura, " he succeeds in the 
 great object of his life, which, on his own account, is to 
 avoid getting warm." 
 
 It was obviously superfluous to waste time or trouble 
 upon such a visitor as this, and tlie family soon came to 
 that conclusion. 
 
 Dashleigh would lounge out of the house in the morning, 
 without having apparently any definite object whatever; 
 and, if questioned on his return as to where he had been, 
 generally replied that he had been lying on his back in the
 
 UNDER THE SURFACE. 157 
 
 shade under a tree, smoking and endeavouring to keep 
 cool. 
 
 One day, about a fortnight after Dashleigh's arrival, the 
 squire, who had been out riding, returned to lunch in a 
 state of much excitement. 
 
 "What do you think has happened?" said he. 
 
 Nobody had the least idea. 
 
 " Well ! when we were all away yesterday afternoon at 
 the Moxford Flower Show, Lurmey's farm, on the other side 
 of the wood there, caught fire." 
 
 " Was anybody injured ? " " Was the farm burnt down ? " 
 . " How did it happen ? " These questions burst out on 
 every side. 
 
 " One at a time, one at a time, my dears," answered the 
 squire. " If you will listen patiently, you shall hear all 
 about it ; and a most extraordinary tale it is. No one 
 knows how the fire originated, but it is supposed that one 
 of the farm-labourers, in lighting his pipe, threw the burning 
 match among some loose straw, which ignited and set the 
 whole place on fire. When the fire was discovered, every- 
 body, as was thought, rushed out of the house. But, in the 
 flurry of the moment, Mrs. Lurmey had forgotten that her 
 two youngest children — the eldest of whom is only three 
 years old — were asleep in an upper room. By the time 
 this was discovered the flames had spread all over the 
 house, and to re-enter it seemed impossible. 
 
 "Well ! the flames gained every instant — the farm-house, 
 you know, is built mainly of wood — and the danger was 
 increasing, when suddenly a stranger, quite unknown even 
 by sight to all there, came up. The instant he had learnt 
 the state of things, he asked quietly which room the chil-
 
 158 UNDER THE SURFACE. 
 
 dren were in, and, on being told, plunged without a moment's 
 hesitation into the burning house. The suspense was fearful 
 to all outside — for no one, not even Lurmey himself, had 
 thought of doing such a desperate act as this. He did not 
 return for some minutes, and all thought that he was lost, 
 when, behold, he emerged from the farm-house in his shirt- 
 sleeves, carrying in his arms the two little children wrapped 
 in his coat, and both in perfect safety. 
 
 "The oddest part of all is to come," continued the 
 squire. " The stranger, after placing the children with their 
 mother, said quickly, ' Now, don't stop to waste words, but 
 let everybody help to bring water and pour it over the out- 
 houses, or they will catch fire too.' All obeyed his com- 
 mands. The strength and dexterity which the stranger 
 himself displayed were, they say, something superhuman; 
 indeed, mainly through his aid all danger to everything but 
 the farm-house itself was soon past. When further exer- 
 tions were needless, Lurmey, who could wait no longer 
 before tendering his thanks to the preserver of his children 
 and of a great part of his property, looked round for him, 
 but, lo and behold, he was gone ! " 
 
 " Gone ! " echoed all the Heathcotes. 
 
 "Yes, gone— gone without having waited to receive so 
 much as a ' Thank you,' and no one has heard anything of 
 him since. The supposition is, that when the danger was 
 all over, but the attention of everybody else was still bent 
 on the fire, he walked off as strangely as he came." 
 
 When the squire had thus finished his tale, an animated 
 conversation ensued. All the family were agreed that it 
 was a very extraordinary thing, and that the stranger's con- 
 duct had been most noble.
 
 UNDER THE SURFACE. 159 
 
 The fame of the stranger spread throughout the country, 
 and his praises were sung on all sides ; but there seemed 
 no hope of solving the mystery as to who he was, whence 
 he came, and whither he disappeared after his exploit. 
 
 It happened that one afternoon shortly after this event 
 the squire was seated in his library reading the 2imes, 
 when a servant entered and announced that Lurmey, the 
 farmer (who was, by-the-bye, a tenant of the squire's), wished 
 to see him. 
 
 " Send him in, by all means," said the squire. 
 
 Lurmey, a minute afterwards, stood confused in the 
 squire's presence. Now Lurmey had a great deal to say 
 on the subject of the late fire, and of his insurance, and of 
 his desire to build a better and larger farm-house on the 
 site of the one destroyed, and on other matters connected 
 therewith ; but Lurmey could not begin — and the reason 
 why Lurmey could not begin was that he had boots on. 
 To impress the soles of those muddy articles upon the 
 squire's carpet would, he evidently thought, be an offence 
 second in degree only to sacrilege. And the result of this 
 opinion, as opposed to the fact that to stand at all without 
 committing that crime was a simple impossibility, was to 
 l)roduce in Lurmey an inclination to slip and shuffle and 
 slide about in a manner wonderful to behold. 
 
 " Pray, sit down, Lurmey," said the squire. 
 
 Lurmey, thus invited, ceased his skating oi)erations, and 
 sat down upon the very edge of the nearest chair. This 
 balancing of equilibrium between the back of Lurmey and 
 the chair [)roduced a gentle and continuous movement not 
 unlike see-saw. 
 
 There was, as I observed, a great deal to talk over ; and
 
 i6o UNDER THE SURFACE. 
 
 Lurmey, having once started, did not stop for a very con- 
 siderable time — indeed, it was nearly two hours afterwards 
 v/hen the squire and he emerged from the library. 
 
 They were talking about the stranger when they passed 
 through the hall, and as they got to the door Lurmey said, 
 " I hope, sir, afore I die as I shall have the chance of telling 
 that there noble gentleman o' my deep gratitude. If I 
 ever forget what I owe to him " • 
 
 Lurmey suddenly stopped speaking and stood perfectly 
 motionless, with his mouth open so wide that an egg might 
 have been thrown into it with ease. He was looking, too, 
 with staring eyes, at something or somebody. 
 
 The squire looked in the same direction — there was 
 nothing whatever to be seen, save and except Dashleigh, 
 advancing with lazy strides towards the house. 
 
 Lurmey recovered movement as quickly as he had lost 
 it, and — the squire thought he must be mad — rushing 
 towards Dashleigh, seized that individual's hand in a con- 
 vulsive grasp, while he ejaculated incoherently, " Hooray ! 
 hooray ! I've found the gen'lman ! God bless you, sir ! I 
 knowed somehow that I should be able to thank you afore 
 I died." 
 
 " Who ? — what ? — how ? — which ? — in what manner ? — 
 where ? " 
 
 These queries now proceeded from the bewildered squire. 
 
 " Why, THIS is the gen'lman as saved my children's lives, 
 and a lot of my property as would have been lost if he 
 hadn't been there. You're a brave, noble gentleman, sir," 
 added Lurmey, again addressing Dashleigh, "and I pray 
 God to bless you for it ! " 
 
 A minute afterwards Mrs. Heathcote, looking out of her
 
 UNDER THE SURFACE. i6i 
 
 window, saw the squire pulling one of Dashleigh's hands, 
 and Lurmey the other, as if they were endeavouring to ring 
 changes out of an obstinate cathedral bell. 
 
 Then w-hen Lurmey had departed (after praying so many 
 blessings on Dashleigh tiiat he had finally — nothing else 
 occurring to him at the moment — prayed for rain to fall 
 upon him and cause him to blossom) Dashleigh was brought 
 into the house by the squire. 
 
 " Here, mamma, Laura, Amy, everybody, come here this 
 moment," shouted that excited personage, and as they all 
 rushed in, the squire, after telling them in his bewilderment 
 that the farm had saved Dashleigh, and the fire put out the 
 children, and that Dashleigh had set the farm on fire, at 
 length brought out the real state of the case. 
 
 !More hand-shaking, more excitement, more incoherence. 
 And what did the object of all this do ? He did nothing 
 whatever. 
 
 " Oh ! but, Dashleigh, 7C'/iy didn't you tell us ? " 
 
 " It would have involved needless exertion — and need- 
 less exertion makes me so hot." 
 
 ■ • • • • • • 
 
 Dashleigh is a frequent visitor at the squire's mansion 
 now — and Laura is his promised wife. 
 
 The whole family dote on " lazy old Dash," as they call 
 him ; and it is Laura's mischievous and special delight to 
 make him accompany her for the longest possible walks on 
 the hottest possible days, notwithstanding his remonstrances 
 as to the needless exertion entailed upon him by such 
 proceedings.
 
 ( 162 ) 
 
 NO BBS'S MYSTERY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Matthew Nobbs kept a shop, and the shop kept Matthew 
 Nobbs. Nay, more, it kept Mrs. Nobbs and Matthew 
 Nobbs the younger, and Juliana, Jane, Albert, Sarah, and 
 George Nobbs, and a Nobbs who had been in the world long 
 enough to acquire a local habitation but not a name. 
 
 Flourishing and resplendent was the shop of Matthew 
 Nobbs, and all the more so by contrast with those around 
 it, most of which were squahd and dirty, and seemed to be 
 divided into the two classes of shops which sold nothing, 
 and shops which had nothing to sell. 
 
 Over the outside of Matthew Nobbs's shop three words 
 were inscribed in letters of black and gold, artfully painted 
 (on a scarlet ground) in a manner which gave each letter the 
 appearance of being made of solid and tangible material ; 
 and if possible, still more artfully curved in the middle, as 
 if each letter had been afflicted with spinal complaint from 
 its birth, but didn't mind in the least, because it was adorn- 
 ing the flourishing and prosperous shop of Matthew Nobbs. 
 Those three words were — 
 
 " General Nobbs Grocer." 
 
 This heading was perhaps a little calculated to mislead, 
 as suggestive of the retirement into trade of a military gentle-
 
 NOBBS'S MYSTERY. 163 
 
 man of high rank. But the result of cahii inspection was 
 to satisfy the thoughtful reader that the words were intended 
 to convey the intimation that Nobbs, simply Nobbs, was a 
 general grocer. 
 
 The attractions of Matthew Nobbs's shop were not con- 
 fined to its extensive and varied stock-in-trade. Far from 
 it. Placards of every colour in the rainbow, and a good 
 many more, were nailed, and pinned, and stuck, and 
 posted up, at every available point of view. These parti- 
 coloured manifestoes made known to the outside world 
 that it might walk or drive an indefinite distance, and pay 
 an indefinite price, without being able to secure Brown 
 Sugar in any way comparable to the Brown Sugar which 
 was daily and hourly sold in that shop at a most moderate 
 price by Matthew Nobbs. That the T (thus in a paroxysm 
 of wit had he caused it to be written) vended by him at two 
 shillings per ^(^ (thus in a further paroxysm of wit had he 
 caused it to be written) defied all competition, a fact upon 
 the truth of which he was ready to stake ;^5oo. That the 
 Colza oil, absolutely given away to the public by him, 
 Matthew Nobbs, was simply above comparison with any and 
 all and every Colza oil ever before supplied to anybody by 
 anybody. That Candles were falling rapidly. That the 
 oranges of Matthew Nobbs at 2 a penny were prime, but 
 that the oranges of Matthew Nobbs at 2 for three half- 
 pence were simply delicious. This, and much more 
 valuable information, was conveyed to all who looked into 
 the shop of Matthew Nobbs by means of these gorgeous 
 placards. 
 
 Matthew Nobbs was a short man : so was the Duke of 
 Wellington, so have been most of our historically famous
 
 i64 NODBS'S MYSTERY. 
 
 characters. He was also — I say it with all respect — a 
 chubby man. He was in perfect proportion, for his head 
 was round, his body ditto, his legs likewise. In age he 
 was perhaps forty-five, but Time had glided lightly over 
 the round, smooth surface of his physiognomy, and it was 
 no easy matter to tell. He was withal a thriving, indus- 
 trious little fellow. 
 
 Mrs. Nobbs was a good wife and a good mother. She 
 was also a model of cleanliness, and she regarded all 
 things from that point of view. She looked hard cakes of 
 yellow soap at everything in the least degree savouring of 
 want of its application. Did Augustus Nobbs by playing 
 upon the floor acquire a grubby appearance, — then Augus- 
 tus Nobbs was forthwith caught up and yellow-soaped. 
 Did Jane Nobbs present, as to the face, a raspberry and a 
 jammy aspect, — then was Jane Nobbs walked off from the 
 scene of action and yellow-soaped. Did Matthew Nobbs 
 the younger come in from school with his hands behind 
 him, and a guilty look upon his brow, — then did Mrs. Nobbs 
 at once divine that Matthew Nobbs the younger had been 
 beguiling the journey home with the manufacture of an 
 occasional mud-pie, and, without a moment's delay, Matthew 
 the younger was yellow-soaped. 
 
 Bright and joyous dreams floated before the eyes of 
 Matthew Nobbs as he gazed upon the little round ball 
 which represented Matthew Nobbs the younger— for he 
 thought of the time when the inscription over the front of 
 his shop would require the addition of more letters looking 
 as if each was visible and solid, and curved in the middle 
 to represent that they were afflicted, like their predecessors, 
 with spinal complaint, but, like them, did not in the least
 
 NOBBS'S MYSTERY. 165 
 
 mind it. Altered by these letters, the inscription would 
 then run — 
 
 " General Nobbs and Son Grocers." 
 And in the contemplation of this, and of the other little 
 round Nobbses (as they tried to sit upon his knee, but 
 could not, because it was so slippery), and of the resplen- 
 dent shop — I say, in the contemplation of all this, Matthew 
 Nobbs was happy. Mrs. Nobbs was also happy. Subject 
 to occasional immolations on the altar of yellow soap, the 
 little Nobbses were also happy. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 "Why, Matthew, my dear, what air you a thinking 
 about ? " 
 
 The speaker was Mrs. Nobbs, and the question not alto- 
 gether unreasonable ; for Mr. Nobbs, with whom business 
 was over for the day, was sitting opposite to her in a state 
 of profound abstraction, muttering at intervals words the 
 burden of which she could not catch. 
 
 Now it was a very unusual and a very extraordinary thing 
 for Matthew Nobbs to bury himself in meditation. Mrs. 
 Nobbs would have about as soon expected to see him bury 
 himself in tlie mountain of brown suiiar. And it troubled 
 her. 
 
 "Why, Matthew, my dear, what air you a tliinking 
 about ? " Matthew gave a sudden start. 
 
 " Oh ! nothing, nothing, my dear," answered he hastily ; 
 and he strummed his fingers upon the table with an 
 affected air of unconcern. 
 
 Matthew, after being thus roused, talked in his usual way
 
 i66 NOBBS'S MYSTERY. 
 
 for the rest of the evening. He discussed with his better 
 half the state of trade and of the shojD (and as they talked of 
 the shop a mysterious light came over his features, which 
 passed away with the subject). He grieved with her over 
 the fatal accident which had that day occurred at school, by 
 means of a protruding nail, to a new pair of knickerbockers 
 which had just been bought for the use and benefit of 
 Matthew Nobbs the younger, until he grew out of them ; 
 by which time, it had been fondly imagined that Albert 
 Nobbs would have grown into them, with a reversionary 
 interest in favour of George Nobbs, whose estate being 
 over, they would — turned inside out — have done admirably 
 for Augustus Nobbs. 
 
 Many other subjects of domestic interest did ISIatthew 
 enter into, but there was a something unusual about him 
 which Mrs. Nobbs could not understand, and which caused 
 her uneasiness. He did not seem unhappy or distressed — 
 but as if something were (as she confidentially informed a 
 friend afterwards) " inside of 'im wich 'e wasn't scarcely 
 large enough to 'old." 
 
 Matthew was just the same on the next day, and the next, 
 and the next. If anything, he grew rather more strange 
 daily in his demeanour. 
 
 Mrs. Nobbs taxed him with it frequently, but his 
 answer invariably was — "Oh! nothing, nothing, my dear; 
 nothing at all.'' He would go up to his room after busi- 
 ness hours and remain there alone for a long time — a 
 thing his wife had never known him to do before. He 
 would sit muttering to himself abstractedly, in a way that 
 puzzled her beyond measure. Among other strange pro- 
 ceedings, he took to carrying scraps of paper about with
 
 NODBS'S MYSTERY. 167 
 
 him, which he produced on all manner of incongruous 
 occasions, for instance, at dinner or chapel. He would, 
 even when walking in the streets with his better half, 
 suddenly take out a piece of paper, and, placing it against a 
 convenient door, put his little round head on one side to 
 get his eyes into a focus, and write something on it in 
 pencil, after which he would restore the paper stealthily to 
 his pocket. 
 
 Mrs. Nobbs became very unhappy, Matthew had never 
 kept a thought from her before, and had always been the 
 brightest, cheerfullest, merriest little man in the world. 
 Now he was strange, and absent, and silent in liis manner 
 — and it was but too evident that he was keeping back some- 
 thing from her. 
 
 The shop of Nobbs became (in addition to its ordinary 
 stock-in-trade) a shop of tears — for Mrs. Nobbs wept often 
 when her husband was not in sight or hearing, and such of 
 the little Nobbses as saw her weep accompanied her lamenr 
 tations with a doleful and a blubbery Miserere most touch- 
 ing to hear. 
 
 And now the worst came to the worst. Matthew began 
 to absent himself from the shop at odd times, and on being 
 questioned by his wife as to where he had been, he would 
 return evasive and unsatisfactory answers. 
 
 Thus, an indefinable jealousy began to be added to Mrs. 
 Nobbs's other sorrows. The mountain of brown sugar 
 pondered heavily over the altered state of the once sprightly 
 Matthew Nobbs ; the candles said they didn't care a fig (an 
 observation which made the figs exceedingly angry) ; the 
 oranges moralised over it ; and the Colza oil fairly wept.
 
 i68 NOBBS'S MYSTERY. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 One morning Matthew had gone out on one of the mys- 
 terious expeditions which brought anguish to the soul of 
 Mrs. Nobbs. 
 
 Lo ! he returned in a state of exuberant dehght and much 
 excitement ! He curvetted about the shop regardless of 
 customers, and imprinted a bouncing kiss upon the face of 
 Mrs. Nobbs (who assisted to serve in the resplendent shop), 
 also regardless of customers. He seemed to be expecting 
 somebody or something, for when there were no customers 
 to attend to he would rush to the shop-door and look up 
 the street with straining eyes. 
 
 Still he would vouch no explanation to his astonished 
 wife. 
 
 " Never mind, my dear, it's all right ; and you'll know 
 everything very soon." 
 
 And he looked so bright and joyous and delighted that 
 Mrs. Nobbs felt it must be all right. So she waited quietly, 
 and her mind was already more at ease than it had been 
 for many days. 
 
 The astonishment of Mrs. Nobbs culminated when 
 Matthew, after looking up the street for about the thirty- 
 eighth time, shouted out at the top of his voice, " Here it 
 is ! " and rushed out in his white shop apron and without a 
 hat towards a man who was advancing towards the shop, 
 supporting on his shoulder something that looked like a 
 picture wrapped up. 
 
 Matthew ran hard till he met the advancing biped, and 
 crying out, " This way, this way ; Jfray take care of it ! "
 
 NOBBS'S MYSTERY. 269 
 
 led both man and burden into the shop, and through it into 
 the parloun 
 
 The moment the man had placed the package down and 
 gone, Matthew began to count tlie assembled members of 
 his family. 
 
 Mrs. Nobbs was there, and gathered round the packed- 
 up curiosity were all the seven little Nobbses — some on, 
 and some under chairs, and some on the floor. Mat- 
 thew hoisted the package on to the table, quivering witli 
 triumph. 
 
 " My dear, you've noticed lately as I've been strange and 
 not like my nateral self. Well, I knows I 'aven't been so, 
 and I'm just a going for to show you the reason why and 
 because." 
 
 Suiting the action to the word, Matthew slowly undid the 
 fastenings of the precious package. 
 
 Mrs. Nobbs and the young Nobbses were nearly bursting 
 with pent-up curiosity. 
 
 He began to remove the covering. 
 
 Mrs. Nobbs and the young Nobbses must burst if it went 
 on much longer. 
 
 He removed the covering altogether. 
 
 Mrs. Nobbs and the young Nobbses became eight pairs 
 of eyes. For unfolded to their view was a placard far 
 exceeding in splendour all the placards in Matthew's shop 
 put together, and framed, too— framed in a choice and 
 lovely frame. 
 
 The ground of the placard was go/d in colour. 
 
 There were words written on it in purple letters. 
 
 The marvel and the delight of all the young Nobbses, 
 except Matthew junior, stopped at this point, because they
 
 170 NOBBS'S MYSTERY. 
 
 could not read. But the marvel and delight of Mrs. Nobbs 
 and her first-born went further. 
 
 There yvas J>oef/y written on it. And it was this : — 
 
 " M. Nobbs this golden rule he learns, 
 And sticks to day by day, 
 Which is ' Small profits, quick returns,' 
 As is the motto for to pay." 
 
 "It took me a 'eap of time and thought, my dear; but I 
 did it all myself— all original, my dear. Fancy me a reg'lar 
 poet like ! When I'd wrote it, and gave orders for to 'ave 
 it put in a frame, I kep' a going to see 'em at it. I was so 
 mortal afraid they might put it down wrong, and spile the 
 rhymes." 
 
 This was the mystery. This was the cause of Matthew's 
 stranse bearinrf of late. He had conceived the ambitious 
 idea in secret of composing some real live poetry to put up 
 in the resplendent shop, and the pangs and supervision of 
 composition under which he had laboured for weeks past 
 had resulted in this masterpiece. IMatthew had resolved to 
 bring it all out as a surprise. Hence his silence and his 
 secrecy. 
 
 A convivial evening was spent by the Nobbs family, now 
 once more happy and re-united. Matthew was in a trans- 
 cendent state of delight. Mrs. Nobbs felt that she was the 
 wife of a poet, and was lost in the attempt to realise that 
 proud and glorious fact. The litde Nobbses danced round 
 the beautiful placard till they were tired, and then ate sugar 
 until they became resolved into living molasses. 
 
 And then, how the public gazed at the placard next day 
 when it appeared in the most conspicuous part of Nobbs's 
 shop ! They gazed as only the British public can gaze, and
 
 NOBBS'S MYSTERY. 171 
 
 the British public is a very good hand, or, more correctly, a 
 very good eye at gazing. Moreover, the British public is per- 
 fectly indifferent to the circumstances whether there is or is 
 not anything to gaze at. Indeed, it gazes, if anything, rather 
 harder in the latter case than in the former. And naturally, 
 for when there is nothing to see, it requires a considerable 
 straining of the organs of vision to behold it. 
 
 Matthew Nobbs and the resplendent shop prospered 
 more than ever. He acquired, moreover, the reputation 
 in the neighbourhood of being a poet. This reputation, it 
 is true, rested solely on the magnificent placard ; but where 
 could a more superb resting-place be found indeed? 
 
 The inscription on the shop front is now 
 
 General Nobbs & Sons Grocers. 
 
 And the nameless Nobbs was christened "Shakespeare 
 Milton" thirteen years ago; "for," said Mr. Nobbs, with 
 great force, " being a bit of a poet myself, you see, I think 
 it's as well to sliow a sort of respect like for others as have 
 been in the same business."
 
 ( 172 ) 
 
 CAPTAIN FITZ-WALLACE'S 
 SPECULATION. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 CAPTAIN FITZ-WALLACE ARRIVES IN SWILLINGBOROUGH. 
 
 The small provincial town of Swillingborough was situated 
 in a county traditionally noted for a superabundance of 
 squires, spires, and spinsters, — and Swillingborough was 
 especially well provided, not to say overstocked, with the 
 last-mentioned commodity. 
 
 Now it came to pass one day that the town of Swilling- 
 borough might have been observed to be in a state of con- 
 siderable excitement. And not without cause, indeed, — 
 for a military gentleman had come down from London and 
 put up at the "White Lion;" and it soon became known 
 in well-informed circles that the military gentleman, by 
 name Captain Eustace Fitz-Wallace, had announced to 
 the landlord of the " White Lion " his intention of staying 
 at Swillingborough for some months. As to whether he 
 had brought three large portmanteaus and a leather bag, 
 by way of luggage, or two large portmanteaus, a carpet- 
 bag, and a hat -box, public opinion was about equally 
 divided. 
 
 The news of his arrival w^as speedily propagated far 
 and wide. Mrs. Wampage, the solicitor's wife, who had
 
 CAPTAIN FIT Z -WALLACE'S SPECULATION. 173 
 
 absolutely seen the military stranger's advent with her own 
 eyes from the window of her residence in High Street, and 
 Mrs. Napper, the doctor's wife, who had been a witness to 
 the same spectacle from the window of her residence in 
 High Street, forthwith donned their respective shawls and 
 bonnets, and spread the intelligence in all directions. 
 
 The other particulars which have been mentioned con- 
 cerning the military gentleman were in an incredibly short 
 space of time tapped from the landlord of the " White 
 Lion " as from a barrel, and fermented in like manner. 
 
 Now the " White Lion " boasted a billiard-room ; and 
 in this billiard-room congregated, on certain evenings in 
 the week, most of the leading professional and commercial 
 gentlemen resident in Swillingborough, for the purpose of 
 indulging in a harmless game of pool, resulting in great 
 loss of "lives" to those who were not skilled in the game, 
 and a considerable gain of threepences to those who were. 
 
 On the evening of the Captain's arrival it chanced that 
 Mr. Wampage, and Dr. Napper, and jMr. Cloppin the local 
 brewer, with certain other diamonds of the first Swilling- 
 borough water, were thus engaged at the " White Lion." 
 
 The conversation turned upon the all-pervading topic — 
 the arrival of the military gentleman. 
 
 Mr. Wampage, and Dr. Napper, and Mr. Cloppin, and 
 nearly all the gentlemen there present, had wives and 
 daughters. And nearly all the daughters of those gentle- 
 men were, after the manner of Swillingborough, unmarried. 
 And quite all the unmarried daughters of those gentlemen 
 were extremely desirous of redeeming the manner in which 
 they had hitherto hung fire by "going off" without any 
 further delay, and with as great an explosion as possible.
 
 1/4 CAPTAIN FITZ-W ALL ACE'S SPECULATION. 
 
 Hence it was that Mr. Wampage, and Dr. Napper, and 
 Mr. Cloppin, and most of the other occupants of the 
 biUiard-room, were already under strict orders from their 
 better halves to leave no stone unturned which could 
 possibly be of assistance in making the acquaintance 
 of the military gentleman ; and while they talked about 
 the all-important arrival, each was revolving in his 
 mind the speediest and most effectual manner of doing 
 this. 
 
 "Where is this Captain Fitz-Wallace ? " Mr, Wampage 
 inquired of the marker. 
 
 "In the r(?H"ee-room, sir," answered that personage, who 
 was wont to make all observations, not immediately con- 
 nected with his professional pursuits, in mechanical and 
 measured tones, as if they formed part and parcel of a 
 melancholy game which was not played upon the billiard- 
 table, and brought in no sixpences to the coffers of the 
 "White Lion." 
 
 " I'll go and have a cup of coffee there the instant this 
 game is over," thought Mr. Wampage. 
 
 " What is he doing there ? " asked Dr. Napper. 
 
 " 'E's hevin' a s'gar, sir." 
 
 " I'll go and smoke there the moment we have finished," 
 thought Dr. Napper. 
 
 " Anything else ? " Mr. Cloppin was the interrogator. 
 
 " Readin' of the noospaper, sir." 
 
 " I'll lose my three ' lives ' on purpose, and go and ask 
 him whether he has finished with the newspaper." Thus 
 planned Mr. Cloppin. But lo ! these and all other schemes 
 were at the same time frustrated and rendered needless by 
 the entrance of the military gentleman himself.
 
 CAPTAIN FITZ-WALLACE'S SPECULATION. 175 
 
 I'he military gentleman was perhaps in age thirty-five. 
 He was tall, and had a good figure, which he displayed to 
 advantage in a tight-fitting frock-coat. His face was 
 adorned with a pair of bushy black whiskers ; and large 
 eyebrows of the same sombre hue, together with a pair of 
 scintillating restless eyes, also black, imparted an aspect to 
 his physiognomy which would perhaps have been not alto- 
 gether prepossessing to observers more acute than were the 
 Swillingborough inhabitants. 
 
 " Pray don't let me interrupt your game," said the Cap- 
 tain ; for they had all stopped playing and were looking at 
 him with much curiosity. 
 
 Dr. Napper first recovered speech. 
 
 "Won't you join us in a game, sir?" said he. 
 
 The invitation was echoed all round eagerly. 
 
 " By so doing, you will," continued Dr. Napper, who 
 was an orator of much local celebrity, " confer upon us an 
 honour, and a pleasure, and a delight. We shall, in fact-^ 
 ah — be charmed — ah — to make your — ah — acquaintance 
 through the medium of what I may be allowed familiarly to 
 term the roley-poleys " — here Dr. Najjper i)ointed gracefully 
 with his fore-finger at the billiard balls. 
 
 " You do me great honour," answered the military gentle- 
 man. " I am not much of a player, but I shall be charmed 
 to join you." 
 
 A game was accordingly made u\), and Captain Fitz- 
 Wallace, previously to commencing, doffed his frock-coat 
 and displayed to the view of the astonished Wampage, and 
 the astounded Napper, and the petrified Cloppin, a watch- 
 chain of prodigious size and solidity, and sleeve-links sjjark- 
 ling with jewels.
 
 176 CAPTAIN FITZ-WALLACE'S SPECULATION. 
 
 The game proceeded, as also the conversation ; and at 
 the close of both the military visitor (despite his diffidence 
 as to the quality of his play) left off the winner of an in- 
 finite amount of small silver emanating from the pockets 
 of his fellow-players, and the recipient of a shower of 
 invitations. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 CAPTAIN EUSTACE FITZ- WALLACE STAYS IN SWILLINGBOROUGH. 
 
 On the evening succeeding that of his introduction to 
 the aristocracy of Swillingborough in the billiard-room 
 of the " White Lion," Captain Eustace Fitz-Wallace was 
 seated at dinner ; and upon this important guest Mr. Wedge 
 the landlord was himself waiting, his outward person merged 
 in one large, fat, oily, obsequious smile. 
 
 The Captain, who was most condescending and affable 
 m his manner, asked Mr. Wedge many questions as to the 
 local celebrities with whom he had come in contact on the 
 previous night. And it was observable that he seemed to 
 take much and special interest in their pecuniary position 
 and well-being. 
 
 " Well now, Mr. Wedge, whom do you suppose — I ask 
 merely by way of curiosity — is the wealthiest man in this 
 town ? " 
 
 " Mr. Cloppin, the brewer, sir, is reckoned by a long 
 chalk the richest man in Swillingborough. They do say 
 that he's got a mint o' money, and that he could give a 
 tidy big portion to them daughters of his, if somebody 
 would only marry them ; only nobody don't seem inclined
 
 CAPTAIN FITZ-IVALLACE'S SPECULATION. 177 
 
 to tackle them. Do you know, sir, it's a strange thing, but 
 there ain't a decent lodging to be got in the whole of this 
 town." 
 
 Mr. Wedge had made this last statement to his guest 
 exactly twenty-eight times that day. Possibly he was 
 desirous that Captain Fitz-Wallace should remain at the 
 "White Lion," and wished to smother in anticipation any 
 idea which that gentleman might entertain of removing to 
 other quarters. 
 
 " Is there any drawback about these young ladies then 
 which frightens away suitors? I happen to be asked to 
 dine there to-morrow, and I should like to know something 
 about them beforehand." 
 
 " Young ladies, sir — they ain't over young ! They're 
 getting on in years now. They never was anythink per- 
 tic'ler to look at, sir, but I don't know as they was much 
 worse than the average. But this ain't a marryin' place, 
 sir, this ain't — and what's more, you can't get lodgings here 
 for love or money." 
 
 Captain Fitz-Wallace appeared satisfied with his inquiries, 
 for he changed the subject, and soon afterwards dismissed 
 I\Ir. Wedge from the room. 
 
 The Misses Cloppin were first in the field — the military 
 gentleman was coming to dine with them before going any- 
 where else, and they felt that advantage must be taken of 
 this to the full before the Misses Wampage, and the Misses 
 Napper, and the Misses Pagduff, and the Misses Slamby, 
 and several other Misses, could enter into competition with 
 them for the prize. 
 
 Arabella Cloppin, the eldest daughter of Mr. Cloppin,
 
 lyS CAPTAIN FIT Z -WALLACE'S SPECULATION. 
 
 was turned up as to the nose, turned in as to the toes, 
 turned in a very extensive and large manner as to the waist, 
 and turned thirty when considered in the Hght of age. 
 Notwithstanding these varied proclivities for turning, she 
 had never succeeded in turning her maiden name from 
 Cloppin into anything else. 
 
 Sarah Cloppin, the other daughter, was a sentimental 
 young thing of twenty-nine. Long brooding over the 
 troubles of true lovers, as depicted in fiction, had produced 
 an impression in her mind that she herself had in early 
 life — I should say, in still earlier Hfe — been disappointed 
 in love, and that a blight had in consequence darkened 
 her existence. She was much given to reading poetry — 
 which she couldn't in the least understand ; and to sighing 
 in a manner suggestive of her feeling very bad somewhere, 
 but where it was difficult to surmise with any degree of 
 certainty. 
 
 Arabella Cloppin was determined to seize, and Sarah 
 Cloppin was determined not to lose, this golden oppor- 
 tunity of hooking a matrimonial fish. Hence Arabella 
 shook out her somewhat meagre curls, and prepared to be 
 charming, while Sarah learnt by heart twelve lines of poetry, 
 and was ready to be even more than usually sentimental ; 
 and both baited themselves extensively with muslin, and 
 with ribbons, with lace, and with jewels. Thus did they 
 await the victim's approach, armed equally against him and 
 against each other. 
 
 The dinner hour arrived, and with it Captain Fitz- 
 Wallace. He was received with heavy solemnity by Mr. 
 Cloppin, with gushing cordiality by Mrs. Cloppin, and with 
 coy timidity by the Misses Cloppin.
 
 CAPTAIN FITZ-WALLACE'S SPECULATION. 179 
 
 The evening passed away very pleasantly, and, to the 
 speechless delight of Mrs. Cloppin, the Captain paid a good 
 deal of attention to the spinster blossoms of her establish- 
 ment. He seemed, if anything, to affect Arabella rather 
 than Sarah, notwithstanding that the last-named young 
 lady had rendered herself almost breathless by the number 
 of sighs in which she had indulged, each one of which 
 seemed to breathe softly the words, "Ah! if I had some 
 one to love me;" notwithstanding also that she had asked 
 him, in most meaning tones, his opinion on the subject of 
 the plighted love of two hearts beating in unison, as op- 
 posed to the conventional indifference of this cold, heartless 
 world. 
 
 Arabella, who was not sentimental, confined herself prin- 
 cipally to military inquiries, to which Captain Fitz -Wallace 
 did not seem to respond with much alacrity ; but he never- 
 theless made himself exceedingly pleasant to the fair Ara- 
 bella, and talked upon a variety of subjects in a manner 
 which quite charmed that mature provincial damsel. 
 
 That evening was but the prelude to several more even- 
 ings of a like nature. And despite the utmost endeavours 
 of the Misses Wampage, and the Misses Napper, and the 
 Misses Pagduff, and the other single ladies of Swilling- 
 borough, ably seconded by their mammas, it became evi- 
 dent before the Captain had been long in Swillingborough, 
 that if he were caught at all by the matrimonial nets spread 
 for him, it would be by the machinations of those horrid 
 Cloppins, though what (as all the other young ladies 
 agreed in saying) he could possibly see to fascinate him in 
 that elderly and designing spinster, Arabella Cloppin, they 
 were one and all quite unable to discover.
 
 I So CAPTAIN FITZ-WALLACE'S SPECULATION. 
 
 But apparently the Captain did see something attractive 
 about Arabella Cloppin, for he continued to pay her the 
 most marked attentions, and, in fact, laid a vigorous and 
 well-sustained siege to her maiden heart, which showed in 
 return every disposition to capitulate. 
 
 Before Captain Fitz- Wallace had been in Swillingborough 
 six weeks, rumours were current among the female popula- 
 tion of that important town, that " that odious thing," 
 Arabella Cloppin, was on the high road to become Mrs. 
 Eustace Fitz- Wallace. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 CAPTAIN EUSTACE FITZ-WALLACE DEPARTS FROM SWILLING- 
 BOROUGH. 
 
 Captain Fitz- Wallace, to the great delight of Mr. Wedge, 
 continued to stay at the " White Lion," and to live upon 
 the very best accommodation afforded by that establish- 
 ment. 
 
 He had been there some seven weeks or so, and the 
 rumour before mentioned had spread right and left ; indeed, 
 the Captain was joked freely about it in the billiard-room 
 without making a show of denial, when another arrival 
 made its appearance in Swillingborough. 
 
 But no excitement ensued this time, for it was a quiet, 
 tmobtrusive third-class arrival ; and it didn't even take the 
 omnibus, but it walked into the town and took a small 
 lodging in a back street, without making the least show or 
 fuss about the proceeding. 
 
 The arrival was a man without the least pretence of
 
 CAPTAIN FITZ-WALLACES SPECULATION. i8i 
 
 gentility about him. He was attired in a rusty speckled 
 suit, which looked as if it had originally been black and 
 had derived its present appearance from a copious sprink- 
 ling of admingled snuff and pepper, which might be shaken 
 out of it on the shortest notice. He had a face principally 
 remarkable for absence of hair and presence of two very 
 shrewd, searching eyes. 
 
 Unlike Captain Eustace Fitz-Wallace, the stranger had 
 brought no profusion of luggage ; indeed, if public opinion 
 had wasted thought at all upon so insignificant a person, the 
 question would probably have been whether he had brought 
 an infinitesimally small carpet bag, or nothing at all. 
 
 After arranging for the occupation of his lodging for a 
 few days, the new-comer proceeded to saunter into the 
 streets in a listless kind of way. Nevertheless, a close 
 observer would have noticed that he seemed to be looking 
 about with those shrewd eyes of his in a manner by no 
 means devoid of purpose. 
 
 Just as the stranger walked up the High Street, Captain 
 Eustace Fitz-Wallace, unexceptionable as to his outward 
 appearance, and apparently in a high state of satisfaction 
 inwardly, was advancing in the opposite direction, on his 
 return to tlie "White Lion," from the Cloppins' house, at 
 which he had been paying his afternoon visit. 
 
 Captain Fitz-Wallace had that afternoon proposed to and 
 been-accepted by Arabella Cloppin; and he was to dine there 
 that evening for the express purpose of arranging matters 
 matrimonial with Mr. Cloppin. 
 
 He had candidly told the fair Arabella that he was not 
 rich, but Arabella was sure that her papa would accept him 
 readily as a son-in-law nevertheless, and would smooth away
 
 iS2 CAPTAIN FITZ-WALLACE'S SPECULATION. 
 
 any pecuniary obstacles. Not only, in fact, was Arabella 
 most desirous of marrying, but, in a feeble, vapid kind of 
 way, she had really become attached to the dashing Captain. 
 
 The proceedings of the stranger on seeing the advancing 
 Captain were odd. He suddenly stopped walking, and 
 was fain to avert his face by looking violently into a green- 
 grocers shop, while at the same time he still further con- 
 cealed his features by pulling up the collar of his speckled 
 coat with a jerk. 
 
 He continued thus until Captain Fitz- Wallace had passed 
 him, and then turning round walked after that gentleman, 
 keeping a short distance behind, and never removing his 
 eyes until the latter entered the " White Lion." 
 
 Curiously enough, the stranger went into the "White 
 Lion" too, and repaired to the bar, behind which Mr. 
 Wedge was dispensing alcoholic liquors to individuals of 
 the Swillingborough lower orders with a gracious and con- 
 descending air. 
 
 Said he of the speckled coat to Mr. Wedge, after obtain- 
 ing from the latter a modest supply of brandy-and-water, 
 " Is that tall, dark gent, who came in just now, staying at 
 your Hotel } " At this high-sounding appellation of his 
 establishment Mr. Wedge swelled with visible gratification. 
 
 "He hev," replied Mr. Wedge, "been stayjng at my 
 Hotel for severial weeks, and, if rumours is correct, he ain't 
 likely to go away just yet." 
 
 " What rumours are them ? " 
 
 " Well, it is rumoured in Swillingborough as that gentle- 
 man, whose name it is Captain Fitz- Wallace " — (the faintest 
 chuckle here emanated from the stranger's throat, terminat- 
 ing abruptly in a cough) — "is a going to be married to the
 
 CAPTAIN FITZ-WALLACE'S SPECULATION. 1S3 
 
 eldest daughter of IMr. Cloppin, the brewer. She ain't 
 beautiful, nor she ain't young, but she'll have lots of money. 
 He's there a'most every evening now, and he's going there 
 to dinner to-night." 
 
 "At what time?" 
 
 " At seven o'clock," Mr. Wedge answered. " Why ? 
 What should you want to know for ? " 
 
 " Oh ! nothing, nothing." As the stranger returned this 
 answer to Mr. Wedge's surprised question, a metallic click 
 might have been heard in his pocket, which click bore a 
 kind of family resemblance in sound to the chuckle which 
 had previously escaped him. 
 
 It was now si.x o'clock, and the stranger continued to 
 stay in the bar, sipping his brandy-and-water and chatting 
 with Mr. Wedge. 
 
 Half-past six. He still lingered, and now his quick eyes 
 seemed to be turned towards the staircase, down which 
 anybody about to make an exit from the White Lion must 
 pass. 
 
 A quarter to seven. He had not gone yet, but had finished 
 his brandy-and-water and moved gradually nearer to the bar 
 entrance. And now behold. Captain Eustace Fitz-Wallace 
 appeared in sight, and descended the stairs in readiness 
 for dinner at the Cloppins' ! 
 
 Just as he passed the entrance to the bar, the stranger 
 — was he mad ? — drew something swiftly out of his pocket 
 and made a rush at the Captain, who had not so much as 
 glanced in that direction. 
 
 The movement was so sudden that Mr. Wedge and the 
 loungers who were in the bar could do nothing but stare. 
 Recovering power of movement, they were about to seize 
 the assailant and rescue Captain Fitz-Wallace from his grasp,
 
 1 84 CAPTAIN FIT Z -WALLACE'S SPECULATION. 
 
 when the former suddenly released the struggling Captain, 
 and revealed to their astonished gaze the spectacle of Captain 
 Eustace Fitz-Wallace, the well-dressed, the military, unmis- 
 takably and absolutely handcuffed ! Turning to the group, 
 the stranger thus addressed them : — " My name's Ned Coggs. 
 I'm a detective from Scotland Yard, and this is Jack Ham- 
 ilton, or 'Gentleman Jack' as he's called. He ain't no 
 more Captain Fitz-Wallace than I am. I've been after him 
 for months, and I tracked him at last to this town. He's 
 wanted in London for a little matter of ;^5oo. He's dyed 
 his 'air and his whiskers ; but, bless yer, I knowed Jack in 
 a moment. He's very nearly pulled off a nice little game 
 'ere ; but Ned Coggs got scent of him. You are a artful 
 one, you are, Jack," Mr. Coggs added, apostrophising the re- 
 vealed swell-mobsman with an admiring, professional grin. 
 
 An hour or two afterwards Mr. Coggs and his prisoner 
 were on their way to London on the best of terms with each 
 other. Mr. Jack Hamilton, who was a swell-mobsman of 
 the very first water, had gone in for this quiet little matri- 
 monial speculation with the assistance of the ;^5oo men- 
 tioned by Mr. Coggs. 
 
 Once more was Swillingborough in a state of excitement. 
 
 The condition of the Cloppins baffled all description. 
 
 The Misses Wampage anxiously inquired of the Misses 
 Napper whether they had ever heard anything like it in all 
 their lives. 
 
 The Misses Pagdufif had felt quite sure from the begin- 
 ning that there was something about him. 
 
 All were agreed that it ought to be a lesson to that 
 designing Arabella. 
 
 I grieve to add that the Misses Cloppin, Wampage, Pag- 
 duff, Napper, and Slamby are single still.
 
 ( i85 ) 
 
 JACK LINTON'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Sir Frederick and Lady Augusta Swansdown had come to 
 town for the season from the family place in Gloucestershire. 
 It was an expensive luxury, and bore rather heavily upon 
 an income which an unfortunate propensity indulged in by 
 Sir Frederick's ancestors for creating mortgages had reduced 
 to somewhat modest proportions. Indeed, Sir Frederick 
 had gone so far as to put it to her ladyship, — simply to put 
 it to her in a modest, casual, abstract way, — that, upon tiie 
 whole, it would be more convenient to him to stay at home. 
 But her ladyship, who had the most complete ascendancy 
 over Sir Frederick, had declined to see the matter in that 
 light. She had made up her mind to come, and there was 
 an end of it. 
 
 The truth was, that her ladyship's eldest daughter, Ger- 
 trude, an exceedingly lovely girl, had just reached that age at 
 which young ladies usually ' come out '—and Lady Swans- 
 down looked upon a London season as an investment that 
 would yield substantial interest in the future. In other 
 words, she had resolved that Gertrude should make a good 
 match. 
 
 Quarters had been secured for the campaign at a little 
 brick band-box in a fashionable part of London j and the
 
 1 86 JACK LINTON'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 curiosity of anybody sufficiently ill-mannered to look into 
 the dining-room window thereof at the precise moment at 
 which my tale opens would have been rewarded by the 
 spectacle of four people at dinner. 
 
 And here I may observe by the way that people who are 
 sufficiently ill-mannered to look into the dining-room window 
 of another man's house (and their number, is it not legion?) 
 invariably do so as if they expected to behold something 
 essentially different from anything that they have ever gazed 
 upon before or ever expect to gaze upon again : and further, 
 that when made aware, by keen scrutiny, that no greater 
 tragedy is being perpetrated than dinner or breakfast, 
 they quit the post of observation with an injured and dis- 
 gusted air. 
 
 But to return : the quartette consisted of, first, and very 
 much foremost indeed, the Lady Augusta Swansdown, 
 presenting a cold and stately appearance; secondly. Sir 
 Frederick, presenting no appearance at all; thirdly, Gertrude 
 Swansdown, presenting a very sweet and charming appear- 
 ance, and withal blushing at odd periods in a somewhat 
 unaccountable manner ; and fourthly, John Linton, present- 
 ing a very handsome, manly, and genial appearance. 
 
 John — familiarly Jack — Linton was the son of a very old 
 friend of Sir Frederick. His parents died when he was 
 very young. His father had committed unto Sir Frederick 
 the guardianship of master Jack, and the modest sum of 
 _;^20o per annum was the extent of that young gentleman's 
 patrimony. 
 
 Sir Frederick had acquitted himself of his charge in the 
 most approved fashion. He sent the boy to school, where 
 he learnt a little ; then to college, where he forgot what he
 
 JACK LINTON'S STRATAGEM. 187 
 
 had learnt at school. At the age of twenty-one Jack left 
 college, took lodgings in London, and ruminated as to the 
 particular career upon which he should embark. 
 
 He had been speculating upon this subject for precisely 
 two years without tlie least visible result at the time when 
 he formed one of the quartette which I have described ; 
 and I am bound to say that intense meditation did not 
 appear to have prematurely wTinkled his brow or grizzled 
 his curly hair. 
 
 Jack had always been a great favourite with Sir Frederick, 
 and indeed with all at Oakwood Hall— her ladyship perhaps 
 excepted, whose thermometer of affection seldom rose much 
 above freezing-point. He had invariably spent his holidays 
 there as a schoolboy and undergraduate ; and had several 
 times since he left college stayed there for some weeks at 
 a time. 
 
 He was a fine, tall, handsome-looking fellow, and there 
 was a generous, taking way about him; a kind of way that 
 irresistibly impelled nearly everybody who came in contact 
 with him to call him "Jack" at the very first interview, 
 
 I have observed that Jack's patrimony amounted to the 
 not stupendous sum of ;^2oo per annum. Now he was 
 one of those easy-going fellows wlio never bother them- 
 selves about anything so trying as financial calculation. If 
 he saw a particular article which struck his fancy— he got it : 
 for, as he acutely argued, "I like it— therefore I ought to 
 have it — therefore I will have it." Therefore he did have it. 
 
 His income was unfortunately not so elastic as his inge- 
 nious theory, and in the two years during which he had been 
 deliberating so anxiously over his future, he had contrived to 
 get into debt to the extent of owing money in a good many
 
 1 88 J A CK LINTON'S STRATA GEM. 
 
 of the leading streets of the metropolis. Jack did occasion- 
 ally curse his folly ; but the idea of seriously retrenching 
 was about as far from his mind as that of making a pil- 
 grimage on bare foot to Mecca. 
 
 He was a frequent visitor and guest at her ladyship's 
 temporary establishment in town. He was tolerated there 
 by the Lady Augusta, welcomed very much by Sir Frederick 
 and — how about Gertrude ? 
 
 The programme for the evening was a ball at my Lady 
 Poppinjay's, to which Jack Linton had obtained an invitation. 
 
 Dinner over, the Lady Augusta's brougham wasannounced. 
 
 "Drive to Lady Poppinjay's, 27 IMammon Square." 
 
 CHAPTER IL 
 
 Who shall attempt to describe a London ball? As well 
 try to photograph the crowd that throngs an important 
 railway station as each human component part scampers 
 to and fro, and rapidly lapses into such a hopeless state of 
 confusion, that it were a real charity on the part of the 
 officials to clap a label upon the owner as well as the lug- 
 gage, and to convey both with equal care, and on the same 
 truck, to the right train. As well attempt to find the be- 
 ginning or end of a visible, tangible, actual ball, by turning 
 it over and over and over again ! 
 
 Mirrors, flowers, lights, music, dancing — a hundred con- 
 versations, blending, and twirling, and mingling, in all sorts 
 of odd combinations, such as " What a very brave man he 
 must have been, he " — " went to the opera and saw " — " the 
 volunteers reviewed by "' — " Charles Mathews, who " —
 
 JACK LINTON'S STRATAGE^r. 1S9 
 
 "killed his mother, wife, four children, and then" — "sang 
 at a promenade concert," &c. &c. &c. 
 
 Let us select from the mass the particular specks with 
 whom our business hes. 
 
 In an ante-room removed from the buzzing crowd which 
 we have just been compelled to leave because our heads 
 began to ache, sat two people, Gertrude Swansdown and 
 Jack Linton. 
 
 " Oh ! but, Jack, what zmU mamma say ? " 
 
 It would have puzzled a head very much more addicted 
 to profound mental speculation than was the pericranium 
 of Jack Linton to guess what mamma would have said had 
 that compound of steel and aristocracy been made aware 
 of the fact that he — John Linton — had permitted feelings 
 of attachment for Gertrude Swansdown to take root within 
 his heart ; while she — Gertrude Swansdown — had permitted 
 feelings of attachment for John Linton to take root within 
 her heart. And I opine that if her ladyship had been 
 further made aware of the fact that Jack and Gertrude had 
 on this particular night at my Lady Poppinjay's ball plighted 
 their troth to each other, that aforesaid mixture of steel 
 and aristocracy would have been perfectly speechless on 
 any and every subject for the remainder of her unnatural 
 life. 
 
 It was the old story. The friendship engendered by fre- 
 quent contact and participation in the same great little sor- 
 rows and pleasures as children had ripened to that which is 
 known as love. I suppose that no two affectionately-dis- 
 posed young people of the opposite sexes ever yet did come 
 in contact with each other constantly for any period exceed- 
 ing, we will say, three weeks, but that a firm conviction has
 
 iQO JACK LINTON'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 sprung up in the minds of both, that with each other, and 
 only with each other, can they ever, ever, ever hope to 
 extract from the materials furnished by this world the 
 remotest grain of joy. 
 
 " Oh ! but. Jack, what 7m7I mamma say ? " 
 
 This caused Jack to come down with a very unpleasant 
 bump from the realms of bliss to the earth inhabited, among 
 other people, by the Lady Augusta Swansdown. He tes- 
 tified the fact of his arrival by a low but prolonged whistle. 
 Then quoth he — 
 
 " Well, you see, darling, I don't exactly know. Her lady- 
 ship is a very excellent woman, and all that sort of thing ; 
 but, w'hen I come to think of it, I don't fancy she 7vould 
 exactly see the force of this move — as yet. We must keep 
 it quiet for a short time till I have made my way." 
 
 [Jack said this as if his time had been exclusively occu- 
 pied hitherto in making somebody else's way.] 
 
 " And, then, when I have got a sort of — kind of — posi- 
 tion, you know." 
 
 [He had been hitherto contented with a position which 
 savoured rather of the recumbent style of thing than 
 otherwise.] 
 
 " Her ladyship will, no doubt, come round." 
 
 [Already, in the eye of imagination, Jack beheld her 
 ladyship in the act of describing the needful circle.] 
 
 " And then, darling, everything will be square." 
 
 Jack's phraseology was not strictly logical in a mathe- 
 matical aspect, but it was sufificiently powerful to soothe 
 the fears of his fair companion — at all events, for a time. 
 
 So they left the earth inhabited by the Lady Augusta 
 Swansdown, and went up, up, up again — into that happy
 
 JACK LINTON'S STRATAGEM. 191 
 
 region where castles stand without any foundations to speak 
 of, w'here all is bright, and sunny, and beautiful ; where the 
 sky is never clouded, and the birds are always singing; 
 where the flowers never think of fading, and the leaves 
 would ridicule the very idea of falling. 
 
 Brief are the moments spent in that hapi)y land, and 
 even while those who are privileged to enter it walk hand 
 in hand lost in its joys, relentless foes are waiting to 
 assail them as they leave it. Trouble, sorrow, separation, 
 estrangement — each is eager for its victim ! 
 
 Turn we to another couple. They are standing just 
 without the mass of dancers, and are engaged in conversa- 
 tion. In the cold, stately female we recognise at once the 
 Lady Augusta Swansdown. But who is the middle-aged 
 gentleman on whose account the Lady Augusta is endea- 
 vouring to infuse into her steely physiognomy something 
 that might be mistaken by a casual observer for cordiality ? 
 
 The middle-aged personage is Mr. Hunniun Spraggles. 
 
 Mr. Hunniun Spraggles was a self-made man. It was 
 more than suspected that his Christian name was not to be 
 found in any baptismal register, and had been bestowed on 
 "him by the author of his being as a tribute to the genteel 
 calling of an itinerant vendor of onions, by which it was 
 whispered, and for once whispered truly, that Mr. Spraggles' 
 papa had gained a livelihood. 
 
 Master Hunniun was of an aspiring disposition. He 
 looked down upon his parent's calling (his parent's calling 
 was "D'yer wornt any hunniuns?") at a very early period 
 of his existence. Becoming more and more discontented with 
 the lowly sphere in which he moved, he at length formed a
 
 192 JACK LINTON'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 plan, in pursuance of which he decamped from the parental 
 roof — which, I may note in passing, was wont to admit the 
 rain in a very free and unconstrained manner whenever the 
 rain expressed the smallest wish to be let in — by stealth, 
 and, after many vicissitudes, obtained the honourable posi- 
 tion of errand-boy in a large mercantile house in the City. 
 
 From this point, the progress of Hunniun — whose per- 
 severance and application were indomitable — was slow, 
 sure, and steady. From errand-boy to office-boy — from 
 office-boy to office young man — hence to junior clerk — 
 senior clerk — managing clerk — partner. 
 
 Mr. Spraggles was not only a " self-made '"' man — he was 
 also a self-educated man. His papa, profoundly conscious, 
 perhaps, of the fact that " a little knowledge is a dangerous 
 thing," had carefully abstained from instilling into his 
 mind any knowledge whatever, save and except only a 
 knowledge of the mysterious ceremonies of boiling, and 
 shining, and rubbing, and otherwise causing his staple 
 commodity — the onion— to look in the eyes of the beholder 
 very much larger, and finer, and a very much more de- 
 sirable purchase, than it would have done in its natural 
 state. 
 
 Conscious of the disadvantage at which this want of 
 education placed him, the ambitious Hunniun had, early in 
 his rising career, devoted many spare hours to the acquisi- 
 tion of reading, writing, and arithmetic ; and, later on, he 
 studied with the greatest assiduity the English tongue, to 
 which his own vernacular had not presented much resem- 
 blance. 
 
 To sum up, Mr. Spraggles had retired from business, 
 shortly before my tale commences, a single man (he had
 
 JACK LINTON'S STRATAGEM. 193 
 
 never had time to marry) ; a middle-aged man ; a modest, 
 unassuming m.an ; a man who, partly by means of self- 
 culture and partly from long contact with educated folks 
 had lost all -trace of his origin, with the exception of his 
 name ; and a man of enormous wealth. 
 
 This latter commodity secured him an entree wherever he 
 chose to enter, and in a quiet sitting-up-in-the-corner kind 
 of way, he did enter a good deal. 
 
 The Lady Augusta had encountered Mr. Spraggles 
 frequently during the season, and had observed, or fancied 
 she observed, a growing partiality for Gertrude on the part 
 of the mature Hunniun, which caused her much inward 
 satisfaction. 
 
 The approaching close of the season induced her lady- 
 ship to-night to take the only step which she thought would 
 be necessary for finally and effectually landing the desirable 
 Spraggles. 
 
 " We leave London next week for our country place in 
 Gloucestershire, Mr. Spraggles. It is very dull there, but we 
 are not altogether devoid of resources ; and if you will favour 
 us with a visit at Christmas time, we shall be charmed to 
 see you, and to make it as pleasant for you as we can." 
 
 Mr. Spraggles bowed, and intimated that he should have 
 great pleasure in availing himself of her ladyship's invita- 
 tion. 
 
 "Gertrude, too, will be delighted to see you," resumed 
 her ladyship. " By-the-bye, where is she?" 
 
 Scarcely had Lady Augusta spoken, when Gertrude 
 hurriedly made her appearance, trying to look very much 
 indeed as if she had only been away five minutes. 
 
 To avert suspicion, Gertrude had arranged with Jack 
 
 N
 
 194 JACK LINTON'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 that she should return to the scene of action (alas ! they 
 had been obliged to descend to earth again !) first, and 
 Jack afterwards ! 
 
 Accordingly, some minutes after Gertrude had been set 
 to talk to Mr. Spraggles, Jack was seen to struggle round 
 the room supporting, in the mazy waltz, an enormous 
 bundle, which he vainly endeavoured to twirl. On calm 
 inspection, this bundle assumed the proportions of the 
 Honourable Miss Fitz-Slumby, a young lady of fifty-five 
 who weighed i4st. 81b., and was very fond of dancing. 
 
 Having at length deposited this panting heap upon a 
 couch, Jack made towards her ladyship. 
 
 " Mr. Linton, will you kindly see to our carriage ? " 
 " Certainly, Lady Swansdown," and off went Jack. 
 The carriage was duly brought up to the door. Sir 
 Frederick was dug up from the recesses of the whist -room ; 
 Mr. Spraggles handed in my lady, and Jack handed in 
 Gertrude, with many a surreptitious^squeeze of the hand, 
 and off went the brougham. 
 
 Her ladyship suspected Jack Linton about as much as 
 she suspected Pluto, the house-dog at Oakwood. 
 
 As Jack walked home to his lodgings he thought deeply, 
 and the substance of his reflections was this : — 
 
 "I have been a lazy, idle, good-for-nothing rascal. I 
 wi7/ make up my mind between now and Christmas what 
 profession to adopt, and when I get back from my visit to 
 Oakwood, I will economise like an anchorite, and work 
 like a nigger." 
 
 He was going to Oakwood at Christmas, as a matter of 
 course, so that he and Mr. Spraggles— although they did 
 not know it — would meet under the same roof.
 
 J A CK LINTON'S S TRA TA GEM. 1 95 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The Lady Augusta Swansdovvn sat in her boudoir at Oak- 
 wood Hall. It was a biting, cold, bleak day in the latter 
 part of December; but by divers luxurious combinations 
 of fire, screens, and curtains, the Lady Augusta was most 
 effectually shielded from the inclement weather. Never- 
 theless, at the precise moment of which I am speaking, 
 her ladyship's visage partook, in no small measure, of the 
 nature of the atmosphere so carefully excluded from her 
 sanctum — the expression thereon being bleak, cold, and 
 withal biting. 
 
 She was not alone, for opposite to her sat her daughter 
 Gertrude ; and a single glance at the two faces could not 
 have failed to indicate to the observer that the subject of 
 conversation was not of the most pleasing nature in the 
 world. 
 
 " But, mamma, he is so very much older than I am ; and 
 indeed, indeed I could not bear to marry him ! " 
 
 The Lady Augusta yielded to astonishment so profound 
 at this most unlooked-for opposition, tliat she sat for some 
 minutes with her aristocratic eyebrows elevated to a posi- 
 tively giddy height. Recovering at length her utterance, 
 she addressed her daughter thus : — 
 
 " Gertrude, you surprise me greatly ; Mr. Spraggles is a 
 man of e;w;-mous wealth, and in every respect a most 
 eligible person. Your father and I have decided " (her 
 father had had about as much to do with it as the Emperor 
 of China) " that the alliance will be in many ways advan- 
 tageous to the family ; and although Mr. Spraggles is rather
 
 196 JACK LINTON'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 older than yourself" (Mr. Spraggles was exactly fifty-three), 
 " and although his veins do not contain very refined and 
 blue blood " (her ladyship said this with a critical air, 
 suggestive of her having chemically analysed the blood of 
 Mr. Spraggles) — " although he is not, in fact, a man of 
 good family " (Mr. Spraggles' papa, as we have already 
 learnt, had gained an independent livelihood by means of 
 hawking onions), *' still he is, as I before observed, a man 
 of e;io f-mous wealth, and — and, I believe, sterling worth " 
 (the sterling worth of Mr. Spraggles was ;^25o,ooo), "and, 
 therefore, it is my desire that you pay him every attention 
 during his approaching visit — a visit made almost avowedly 
 with the view of proposing for your hand. As for your 
 ' not liking to marry him,' I am astonished beyond measure 
 that any daughter of mine should so far forget herself as 
 to dream of allowing a petty dislike to intervene between 
 herself and a marriage by which she would secure ^yr herself 
 e;?^nnous wealth." (It tvas astonishing that any daughter 
 of Lady Augusta Swansdown should thus act.) 
 
 " Go, therefore, to your room at once. I am quite sure 
 that on calm consideration you will see this matter in a 
 more becoming light. For the present, let the subject 
 drop; but understand my distinct and emphatic wish to 
 be, that if Mr. Spraggles proposes for your hand you will 
 accept his offer." 
 
 Having delivered herself of these feeling and motherly 
 sentiments, the Lady Augusta sank back on her luxurious 
 couch, while her daughter rose and left the room without 
 a word, looking the picture of pretty misery. 
 
 On the afternoon of the same day Jack Linton arrived, 
 and the sound of his voice in the house quickly brought
 
 JACK LINTON'S STRATAGEM. 197 
 
 Gertrude from her room. She had made a hasty attempt 
 to conceal the traces of her grief — but the pretty eyes told 
 an unmistakable tale of ' tears, idle tears,' and Jack Linton 
 divined in an instant that something was wrong. 
 
 They very soon had an opportunity of talking alone to- 
 gether. Sir Frederick was engaged with two other members 
 of the "great unpaid" in sitting judicially for the purpose 
 of inflicting heavy sentences upon all culprits brought before 
 them who were clearly innocent, in permitting those who 
 were obviously guilty to depart " witliout a stain upon their 
 character" (the said characters had been in general so 
 effectually stained long before, that — as the worthy mag- 
 nates of justice doubtless divined — to stain them any more 
 would have been a most reprehensible waste of magisterial 
 varnish), and in committing for trial all whose cases they 
 could not understand. In the latter contingency bail was 
 consistently accepted in every case where it ought to have 
 been peremptorily refused ; and, on the other hand, sternly 
 refused where it should have manifestly been accepted. 
 
 As for the Lady Augusta, she was in her boudoir, supremely 
 indifferent to, if not absolutely ignorant of, so insignificant 
 an arrival as that of ^1^2 00 a year. 
 
 It remained only to ship off Gertrude's younger brothers 
 and sisters. This was a matter of no small difficulty, for 
 they all adored Jack, and clung to him like oysters (and 
 some people) cling to their beds. Nevertheless it was 
 managed at last, and Jack was left alone with Gertrude. 
 
 " \Vhat is the matter, my darling ? you seem so sad and 
 miserable. I thought when I saw your sweet face looking so 
 full of trouble, that I should have become a transmogrified 
 weeping willow."
 
 198 JACK LINTON'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 " O Jack ! •■' said Gertrude — need I allude, by-the-bye, 
 to the relative positions occupied by the two lovers now 
 that they were alone ? — " what shall I do ? " 
 
 "The best thing you can do, darling, is to tell me all 
 about it, whatever // may happen to be, for at present I am 
 somewhat in the dark." 
 
 " You remember that Mr. Spraggles we met in London, 
 Jack — you saw him talking to me at the Poppinjay's ball ? 
 Well, mamma says that she believes he is fond of me, and 
 he is coming to stay here, and mamma says that he will 
 propose to me, and mamma says that if he does propose to 
 me I [sol>] must [f2vo soh] marry [f/iree sods] him [an hide- 
 finite number of sobs\" 
 
 If anybody had assured Jack Linton that he had been 
 that morning made Lord High Chancellor or Archbishop 
 of Canterbury, or that he was about to be taken up as having 
 been the author of the Rye House Plot, he could not have 
 been more astonished than by this revelation. 
 
 " What ! YOU — my Gertrude — marry that fat old pump- 
 kin? oh ! it's monstrous — it can't be." 
 
 Gertrude wept, and, as well as the obscurity of vision 
 which results from tears would permit, looked ruefully at 
 Jack. Jack did not weep ; and with unimpaired organs of 
 vision looked ruefully at Gertrude. 
 
 It had never occurred to him before that such a state of 
 things as this could arise ere he, starting with running garb 
 composed of ^200 a year, but hampered by a considerable 
 weight of debts, could reach the goal of prosperity and 
 claim Gertrude for his wife. 
 
 But after the first crushing effects of the sudden blow had 
 passed away. Jack set his mind to work, hoping to think
 
 JACK LINTON'S STRATAGEM. 199 
 
 of some plan whereby to escape from its impending con- 
 sequences. 
 
 Gently disengaging himself (I don't mean in a matri- 
 monial point of view) from Gertrude, he placed his fore- 
 head upon the table, and his hands upon the back of his 
 head. This intellectual proceeding was, he thought, busi- 
 ness-like, and calculated to prevent the escape of any idea 
 which should be mean enough to fly away before he could 
 give it due consideration. 
 
 After he had remained thus for some minutes, he started 
 up. 
 
 "Stay!" — the admonition was quite needless — "I have 
 it!" 
 
 Gertrude became suddenly bright. 
 
 *' No ! I haven't," and down went the head again, fore- 
 head foremost, the hands being duly adjusted in their 
 former position. 
 
 Gertrude became suddenly dull. 
 
 Three consecutive times did Jack jump up and observe, 
 *' Stay ! I have it," and each time Gertrude became bright. 
 Three consecutive times did Jack settle down again in the 
 attitude I have described, remarking " No ! I haven't," and 
 each time Gertrude became dull. And, lo ! once more did 
 he jump up, literally jump up, and exclaim, his face irra- 
 diated with triumj^h, " Now I /lave got it ! " 
 
 Blended with Jack's look of triumph was one of profound 
 mystery ; and drawing Gertrude towards him until they once 
 more occupied the mutual position which I have left the 
 intelligent reader to understand, the oracle thus spake : — 
 
 " ]\Iy darling, everything shall be right ; I have arranged 
 a stratagem in my mind which will effectually prevent
 
 200 JACK LINTON'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 Spraggles from proposing to you now or ever. I cannot 
 tell you what it is now, but be perfectly easy and leave 
 everything to me." 
 
 Gertrude believed implicitly in Jack's power to do any- 
 thing in the world ; and although she would have liked 
 to know the mighty thoughts which now filled his brain 
 to the prospective annihilation of Spraggles' matrimonial 
 intentions, she was quite content to fulfil his wishes to the 
 utmost — to be perfectly easy upon the subject, and leave 
 everything to him. One lingering doubt, however, she was 
 fain to solve. 
 
 " Jack, darling, may I ask one thing ? " 
 
 " What is it, dearest ? " 
 
 " You're not — going — to — hurt — Mr. Spraggles ? " 
 
 Jack laughed heartily. " No, you little goose ; of course 
 I'm not." 
 
 This unpleasant subject disposed of for the nonce, they 
 were at liberty, during the time which yet intervened before 
 Sir Frederick's return, to leave the earth of the Lady 
 Augusta and Spraggles, and to go up once more to the 
 dreamland of lovers. And quickly as Aladdin was trans- 
 ported from place to place by means of his wondrous lamp, 
 were these two lovers carried from this earth to that bright 
 realm. 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 Mr. Hunniun Spraggles had arrived. The fact was 
 somewhat uncertain for some minutes after its accomplish- 
 ment — and for this reason. The weather was cold, and
 
 JACK LINTON'S STRATAGEM. 201 
 
 Mr. Spraggles was extremely averse to cold. Accordingly, 
 he wrapped up in cold weather in a very full and extended 
 sense of the expression. 
 
 The effect of this was that when the carriage, which had 
 been sent to convey Mr. Spraggles from the station, re- 
 turned to Oakwood, a profusion of bear-skins, tiger-skins, 
 and railway-rugs met the expectant eye, but nothing more. 
 
 An excavation of this anomalous heap resulted, however, 
 in the digging out of a remarkably fat man, with a remark- 
 ably good-humoured face, and that man was none other 
 than Hunniun Spraggles. 
 
 Mr. Spraggles, on coming to the surface, was forthwith 
 inducted to the presence of her ladyship, who welcomed 
 him with cordiality. Gertrude put out her little hand 
 timidly, but the man of c/iormous wealth shook it — oh ! 
 horrors — with unmistakable warmth. 
 
 Her ladyship presented her younger children to Mr. 
 Spraggles, and they were soon on good terms with him ; 
 for Mr. Spraggles seemed to be fond of children, and had 
 a nice homely way of showing it too. 
 
 He looked inquiringly at Jack. " Your eldest son, Lady 
 Swansdown ? " 
 
 " No," said her ladyship ; " Mr. Linton, the son of a very 
 old friend of my husband's." 
 
 Jack bowed stiffly. 
 
 Mr. Spraggles trotted across the room to him, held out 
 his hand, and shook Jack's heartily. 
 
 "Seems a good-natured old buffer," thought Jack, "but 
 oh ! the villain, to think, at his age, of marrying my 
 Gertrude ! " 
 
 The day wore on. Mr. Spraggles talked in a pleasant,
 
 202 JACK LINTON'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 beaming, kindly way to everybody ; and, in spite of himself, 
 Jack Linton, somehow or other, could nof help liking the 
 old fellow, albeit Mr. Spraggles (to the holy and immeasur- 
 able joy of her ladyship) obviously paid much attention, 
 and talked most to Gertrude. 
 
 The evening over, Mr. Spraggles was conducted to the 
 apartment prepared for him, which was in a quiet and 
 solitary wing of the house. He went to bed. Very shortly 
 afterwards he went to sleep. 
 
 But he was not destined to enjoy a night of undisturbed 
 repose. 
 
 At about I A.M. he was awakened by hearing his name 
 pronounced in solemn and ghostly tones. 
 
 Mr. Spraggles, who was, as I before mentioned, much 
 averse to cold, had piled up the fire previously to getting 
 into bed in a substantial manner, calculated to last several 
 hours, and, by the aid of the light which emanated there- 
 from, he now perceived, on looking up to ascertain whence 
 the unearthly voice proceeded — an apparition ! 
 
 " Stuff ! " muttered he ; " I'm dreaming ; " and he sank 
 back again, with a view to composing himself to slumber. 
 
 " Hunniun Spraggles ! " repeated the ghostly voice. 
 
 Mr. Spraggles sat up in bed, and had another look. 
 
 Yes, there was no doubt about it. At the foot of his bed 
 there stood a tall figure, completely draped in white, the 
 ghostly raiment covering even the face of the apparition. 
 
 And I am fain to say that the visage of Mr. Spraggles 
 became in hue not many degrees less pallid than the robe of 
 his ghostly visitor, as he sat up in bed and gazed upon the 
 intruder. 
 
 The spectre moved nothing except its mouth, which it
 
 JACK LINTOX'S STRATAGEM. 203 
 
 used for the purpose of addressing the astounded Hunniun 
 as follows : — 
 
 " Hunniun Spraggles " 
 
 For the third time did that individual hear his name pro- 
 nounced in tones far from re-assuring. 
 
 *' I have come from another world " 
 
 [If Mr. Spraggles' thoughts could have collected them- 
 selves in words, he would doubtless have represented to the 
 spectre the discomfort which his absence must create among 
 his family and friends, pointing out to him the expediency 
 of his forthwith returning to the orb in question,] 
 
 " To warn you of the fate which will befall you unless 
 you leave this house by break of dawn and abandon the 
 iniquitous design which brought you hither ! You seek to 
 gain the hand in marriage of one who is unsuited to you in 
 every respect, and who, moreover, loves another. Know, 
 then, that Gertrude Swansdown cannot be yours, and that 
 if you persist in your unholy suit, vengeance speedy and dire 
 will fall upon you. Be warned while it is yet time — I say 
 
 BE WARNED ! ! " 
 
 Did the spectre, at the conclusion of this remarkable 
 oration, mutter, in singularly earthly tones, " I think that'll 
 do for the old boy ; " or did the wind whistling down the 
 chimney seem to shape those words ? 
 
 Now Mr. Spraggles was a very practical man, and not a 
 believer in ghosts. The sudden terror into which this visita- 
 tion had thrown him subsided quickly, and the substance 
 of the spectre's observations seemed to profoundly astonish 
 rather than to terrify him. 
 
 He sat bolt upright in bed, and looked hard, very hard, 
 at the spectre, who moved not.
 
 204 JACK LINTON'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 Suddenly Mr. Spraggles grasped in both hands the bolster, 
 and, taking secret aim, swung it forcibly and with much 
 precision at the spectre. 
 
 Lo, marvellous was the effect of this substantial missile ! 
 Instead of simply passing through the apparition in white 
 without taking the slightest effect upon him (for are not 
 ghosts proverbially invulnerable to all earthly weapons?), 
 it caused him to stagger backwards several paces — in stag- 
 gering backwards he tripped — yes, the spectre absolutely 
 tripped — against a chair, and measured his supernatural 
 length upon the floor. But this was not all. The spectre, 
 while describing these singularly fleshy evolutions, shed his 
 immortal coil ! or, in other words, off came the loose flow- 
 ing white raiment — and revealed to the courageous Sprag- 
 gles, by the dim light of the fire, the face, the form, and the 
 appearance of John Linton ! 
 
 The discomfited Jack picked himself up slowly, and stood 
 irresolute, looking particularly red in the face, and apparently 
 hesitating whether to strangle Mr. Spraggles and then rush 
 away, or to make his escape without that preliminary. 
 
 And what did ;Mr. Spraggles do ? Simply this. He sur- 
 veyed Jack intently for a moment, and then sank back into 
 bed and gave way to a prolonged fit of silent, apoplectic 
 laughter, which caused the bed to shake as though stricken 
 with palsy, and Mr. Spraggles to assume the appearance of 
 a convulsive hippopotamus. 
 
 At length recovering himself in some measure, he again 
 sat up in bed. 
 
 "So, Mr. Spectre, ha! ha! lia ! you came from another 
 world to tell me that I must not marry Gertrude Swans- 
 down. Ho ! ho ! ho ! fancy Hunniun Spraggles, aged fifty-
 
 JACK LINTON'S STRATAGEM. 205 
 
 three, marrying that little blue-eyed child. He ! he ! he ! 
 well, that IS good." 
 
 " What ! " gasped Jack, " you don't mean to say you have 
 not come here intending to propose to her ? " 
 
 This question so intensely tickled Mr. Spraggles that he 
 again sank back in fits of mirth. 
 
 " Why, I'd as soon think of marrying you," he said at 
 last, the tears of laughter running down his great, big, fat 
 benevolent face. 
 
 " Then, all I've got to say is, that I've made a confounded 
 ass of myself, and I beg your pardon. And now I /lave put 
 my foot in it, I may as well make a clean breast of it." 
 
 " Well, well," said Mr. Spraggles, in a hearty, jovial voice, 
 " there's no harm done ; but if you are not too proud, Mr. 
 Spectre, please put some coals on the fire, and then bring 
 me that dressing-gown to keep the cold off (I do //a/e the 
 cold), while I sit up in bed, and you tell mc all about it." 
 
 Jack readily did as he was asked ; and, indeed, there was 
 something about the old fellow's benignant face that made 
 Jack's heart warm to him, and he began to feel very much 
 ashamed of his recent exploit. Mr. Spraggles adjusted his 
 dressing-gown to his satisfaction, and then, turning to Jack, 
 said with a merry genial smile — 
 
 " Now, Mr. Apparition, I'm ready for you." 
 
 Jack proceeded to expound to him, in a simple, unaffected 
 way, the whole of the circumstances with wliich the reader 
 is acquainted— how that he was very much in love with 
 Gertrude, and Gertrude very much in love with him — how 
 that her ladyship was under the impression that he (Mr. 
 Spraggles) contemplated marrying Gertrude, and was desi- 
 rous of bringing about the said marriage in consequence of
 
 2o6 JACK LINTON'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 his (Mr. Spraggles') worldly possessions, and had asked IMr. 
 Spraggles there for the express purpose of facilitating the 
 preliminaries — how that the advent of Mr. Spraggles had 
 been looked upon by poor Gertrude (whose disinclination 
 to marry Mr. Spraggles had been totally disregarded by the 
 Lady Augusta) and himself as a most alarming misfortune 
 — how that the sole mode which presented itself to his mind 
 of averting the disastrous marriage was that which he had 
 adopted with such a singular result — and, finally, how that 
 he was deucedly sorry for the fright he had given Mr. 
 Spraggles, and that he hoped the latter would complete his 
 forgiveness by consigning the apparition performance (as 
 Jack expressed it) to the tomb of oblivion. 
 
 Mr. Spraggles listened intently to Jack's narrative, and 
 at that part of it which related to the Lady Augusta's 
 behaviour to Gertrude, and matrimonial designs upon him- 
 self, there came into his face as deep an expression of anger 
 and indignation as its fixed and accustomed expression of 
 benevolence and good-nature could permit of. 
 
 At its conclusion he remained silent for some minutes, 
 and had a good look at his revealed and now human visitor 
 — and, judging by his complacent grunt, the result seemed 
 satisfactory to him. 
 
 "So, Mr. Spectre, 'she loves another,' eh?" 
 
 " Yes," answered Jack, " she does love another very 
 much indeed — and another reciprocates the sentiment." 
 
 " And you hope to marry her ? " 
 
 " Fervently." 
 
 "What do you expect to marry on?' 
 
 This was a poser. Jack silently locked first at the floor, 
 then at the walls, then at the ceiling, as though he expected
 
 JACK LINTON'S STRATAGEM. 207 
 
 to discover something visible and tangible to which he 
 could point and say, " I expect to be married on that." At 
 last he answered very slowly, " Well, sir — the fact — is — I — 
 don't — exactly — know. I have only ;!^2oo a year, and — 
 and — I've been very careless and — and — I owe a good deal 
 — of money." 
 
 Mr. Spraggles gave another grunt, — this time not quite 
 so satisfied. 
 
 " But," added Jack, with a sudden burst, " I'm deter- 
 mined to make my way." 
 
 " Where to ? " 
 
 " To — to — wealth, you know, and position, and all that 
 sort of thing." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 This was another poser. And the floor, walls, and ceil- 
 ing not having been satisfactory, Jack showed a disposition 
 this time to look up the chimney, which certainly afforded 
 him means of making his way upwards, but not exactly in 
 the manner required. Again he answered slowly, "I've been 
 thinking about it for a long time, sir, but I — I — can't quite 
 see how to make a start." 
 
 Another and a thoughtful grunt from Mr. Spraggles. 
 
 " Now, listen to me, young gentleman," said he ; " I am 
 fond, very fond, of that sweet young girl, but not in the way 
 that her she-cat of a mother supposes. I took a great 
 fancy to her in London. I have neither kith nor kin of my 
 own, and my heart warmed to her. I was rather astonished 
 when Lady Swansdown asked me to stay here ; but I came 
 because I wanted to know more of that sweet child, and I 
 hoped that she might come to like me, and then, perhaps, 
 my wealth might have benefited her in some way or other,
 
 2o8 JACK LINTON'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 — for I know that Sir Frederick is not a rich man. And 
 that's why I came, Mr. Spectre." 
 
 Every time Mr. Spraggles appHed this name to Jack he 
 evinced an inchnation to he back and resume his ebulhtions 
 of mirth. 
 
 "And what's more," continued Mr. Spraggles, "I Hke 
 you, although you did wake me up in the middle of the 
 night, and nearly frightened me to death with your 'visit 
 from another world.' You have a frank, honest countenance 
 that does one good to look at, and a straightforward, manly 
 way about you— and what's more, you don't mind confess- 
 ing you're in the wrong when you are in the wrong. Now, 
 it seems to me that it may be in my power to benefit that 
 child and you too ; so if you'll allow me to stay just a few 
 minutes after the ' break of dawn ' (which was, I think, the 
 time you fixed for my going), I'll think it over and see 
 what's to be done. So good night, or rather good morning, 
 you substantial young specimen of a ghost," 
 
 Mr. Spraggles, after a long search among the folds of his 
 dressing-gown (which, in his anxiety to escape from the cold, 
 he had put on with the wrong side in front), found his hand, 
 which he held out to the defeated yet delighted Jack. 
 
 Jack shook it warmly and then retired, dragging after 
 him his late insignia of spectredom— a large sheet which 
 he had taken out of his bed for the purposes of his deeply- 
 contrived scheme. Just as he reached the door he turned 
 towards the heaving mass which represented Mr. Spraggles 
 (for the siglit of Jack's ghostly raiment had again sent that 
 gentleman into convulsions), and said — 
 " You won't ? " and he paused awkwardly. 
 Mr. Spraggles understood him, and gasped out —
 
 JACK LINTON'S STRATAGEM. 209 
 
 " No. I won't mention it." 
 
 Jack thanked him gratefully and withdrew. 
 
 Mr. Spraggles did not go to sleep for a long time after 
 Jack had left him. He was one of the kindest-hearted old 
 fellows that ever breathed, and he was determined to set 
 matters straight for these young lovers, the course of whose 
 true love showed an inclination to run in such a parti- 
 cularly rough and turbid manner. Moreover, he had taken 
 a great fancy to l)oth of them, and he thought of the 
 pleasure he would derive from seeing them happy to- 
 gether, and by his means — yes, and looking upon him as 
 their best and kindest friend. He saw plainly that the ore 
 obstacle to their union was — money. And that obstacle 
 he could, would, and should remove. The Modus operandi 
 required some consideration, but he soon hit upon a plan, 
 and having done so, he went to sleep. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Mr. Spraggles came down to breakfast in the morning 
 radiant with benevolence and good-humour. He showed 
 irrepressible and extraordinary inclinations to be moved 
 to laughter (and this was when his eye caught Jack's, 
 who, by-the-bye, looked just a little sheepish and uncom- 
 fortable) without the least visible or tangible cause. He 
 paid more particular attention than ever to Gertrude, 
 whereat the Lady Augusta absolutely scintillated with 
 triumph. Poor Gertrude was puzzled — he seemed so kintl 
 and good-natured, that she could not dislike him ; but oh ! 
 the idea of marrying him instead of her darling Jack !
 
 2IO JACK LINTON'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 That young gentleman, be it observed, had not as yet said 
 anything to Gertrude about the denouement of the previous 
 night. Indeed, although he was dying to tell her all about 
 it, he was restrained from doing so, inasmuch as it involved 
 a description of the decidedly ridiculous figure which he 
 had cut. 
 
 Breakfast over, Mr. Spraggles took advantage of an oppor- 
 tunity to request her ladyship to grant him a few minutes' 
 private conversation. Sir Frederick was too obvious a 
 nonentity to need the slightest consideration. 
 
 " Now it's coming," thought the Lady Augusta. 
 
 And so it was. 
 
 Her ladyship led Mr. Spraggles to another room, where, 
 when they had seated themselves, he cleared his voice and 
 thus began : 
 
 " Lady Swansdown, you cannot have failed to notice the 
 marked liking for your daughter Gertrude w^hich I have 
 evinced whenever I have had the pleasure of being with 
 her. In fact, I like her more than I can tell you." 
 
 The Lady Augusta became simply one aristocratic beam 
 of triumph. 
 
 " And," he continued, " there is nothing I would not do 
 to secure her happiness. Now I think, indeed I am sure, 
 it is in my power to do so in the way she most desires, and 
 I am about to ask your permission to my taking a step 
 which will, I am certain, effect that object." 
 
 "Rather an odd way of putting it," thought the ex- 
 pectant Lady Augusta. 
 
 "In fact, to come to the point, I ask your consent to 
 her marriage with '' 
 
 Her ladyship quivered with joy.
 
 JACK LINTON'S STRATAGEM. 211 
 
 " Mr. John Linton." 
 
 To describe the sudden alteration which came over the 
 features of Lady Augusta would be simply impossible. 
 
 " What!" she almost screamed, rising suddenly. " Are 
 you mad, are you mocking me, or is this a miserable joke ? " 
 
 " I am neither mad, nor mocking you, nor is this a 
 miserable joke, Lady Swansdown," answered Mr. Spraggles 
 quietly ; " and possibly your ladyship will see it in a dif- 
 ferent light if you will allow me to finish what I am going 
 to say, I am quite aware that Mr. Linton is not in a 
 pecuniary position to marry your daughter, but, provided 
 you consent to this marriage, it is my intention to settle a 
 portion upon her, which will of itself remove all difficulties 
 of that kind (understand me to say, provided you consent 
 to this marriage), and, moreover, to place Mr. Linton in a 
 position which will, in a short time, yield him an income 
 of a substantial and considerable amount." 
 
 Her ladyship went through another revulsion, and did, 
 as Mr. Spraggles anticipated, see it in a very different light 
 indeed. 
 
 " Mr. Spraggles, you must pardon the hasty expressions 
 I used just now. My daughter's happiness must ever be 
 my first consideration." 
 
 ["Rather a warm one that, my lady," thought Mr. 
 Spraggles.] 
 
 "And if I am satisfied that her wish is to marry i\Ir. 
 Linton, and also under — the — the — circumstances that you 
 mention, my feelings as a mother will not allow of my rais- 
 ing any opposition. We will determine the point at once." 
 
 Her ladyship rang the bell, and desired the servant who 
 appeared to request Gertrude's presence for a few minutes.
 
 212 JACK LINTON'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 Gertrude attended the summons in fear and trembling, 
 for Jack had only just made up his mind to tell her every- 
 thing when she was sent for. 
 
 She looked from her ladyship to Mr. Spraggles, and from 
 ]\Ir. Spraggles to her ladyship, and turned very pale, for 
 she divined, as she thought, what was coming. 
 
 " Gertrude, dear," said her ladyship, in tones of most 
 unusual fondness, " Mr. Spraggles tells me that he thinks 
 it will make you very happy if I — that is, I mean, of course, 
 if your papa and I — give our consent to your marriage with 
 Mr. Linton. Is this so ? " 
 
 Gertrude, who had been expecting her ladyship to finish 
 up with a maternal command that she should forthwith 
 consent to marry the elderly Mr. Spraggles, was now as 
 much astonished as her ladyship had been when Mr. 
 Spraggles had made his strange proposition. It seemed 
 a dream, a vision, a beautiful impossibility. One look, 
 however, at the fatherly, protective expression which per- 
 vaded the benevolent face of Mr. Spraggles, brought her in 
 some measure to a sense of the unutterable good fortune 
 which had befallen herself and Jack, although by what 
 means she had not the vaguest idea. 
 
 "Ye — es, mamma, I do want, at least I should like to 
 marry Jack ; and I — I — rather think Jack wants to marry 
 
 me, mamma." 
 
 " Well, then, my dear child," said the Lady Augusta, 
 trying very hard to look like a fond mother, " Mr. Spraggles 
 has been interceding on your behalf in such an exceedingly 
 kind manner, and has promised so generously to remove 
 the — the — little obstacle that would otherwise compel me 
 to refuse my consent, that I cannot under the circumstances
 
 JACK LINTON'S STRATAGEM. 213 
 
 withhold it. Subject, therefore, to your papa's approval, 
 you may consider Jack Linton your future husband." 
 
 Gertrude murmured, " Oh ! f/ia;i/c you, mamma, dear," 
 and imprinted a loving kiss upon the frigid lips of that 
 conquered, and yet not dissatisfied, schemer. Then, turning 
 to Mr. Spraggles, she was about to say something, when he 
 smiled even more benevolently than usual, and drawing her 
 to him, kissed her forehead, while he said — 
 
 "There! never mind, my dear — don't thank a stupid 
 old fellow like me. But go and tell him all about it." 
 
 Gertrude did go and tell Jack about it, and forthwith 
 did these two young people give way to their joy in the 
 most extravagant manner. Gertrude cried and laughed 
 alternately, while Jack set up a perfect dance of joy, in the 
 course of which he broke a good deal of Sir Frederick's 
 oldest and most valuable china, and rendered himself 
 extremely warm. 
 
 At length it occurred to Gertrude that Sir Frederick's 
 consent had to be obtained. 
 
 As to this she entertained little fear, for she knew not 
 only that Sir Frederick was very fond of Jack, but also that 
 if the Lady Augusta had consented to her marriage with an 
 Ojibbeway Indian, already possessed of thirty-five squaws, 
 Sir Frederick would not have dared to gainsay the per- 
 mission. 
 
 Forthwith Jack and Gertrude started off to find Sir 
 Frederick. They entered the library and saw him not, but 
 a local newspaper which stood up straight before them, 
 and was apparently held erect with the aid of human 
 fingers, whereof the extremities were visible to them, gave 
 indications of his presence. They advanced to the ex-
 
 .2 14 JACK LINTON'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 tended newspaper, and, on looking over the top of it, 
 perceived the amiable baronet so intently engaged in the 
 perusal of a political article, whereof he understood exactly 
 as much as the ^Yriter {videlicet nothing whatever), that he 
 had not been aware of their entrance. 
 
 "If you please, papa dear, Mr. Spraggles has asked 
 mamma to let me marry Jack, and I think he promised to 
 help Jack to be rich if mamma would let me marry him \ 
 and mamma says I may marry Jack if you will let us." 
 
 Sir Frederick had not the remotest idea how or in what 
 manner her ladyship had been brought to give her consent 
 to this engagement. He only knew that she /z«^ consented, 
 and that was amply sufficient to make him do the same in 
 all readiness. Nay, more. In a hazy kind of way he had 
 often thought how much he should like to see the son of 
 his oldest and dearest friend married to Gertrude. Conse- 
 quently, the simple-minded baronet was more than ready 
 to give his consent. He was not much less delighted than 
 the young people. He kissed Gertrude over and over 
 again ; he shook hands with Jack violently, first with both 
 hands, then with the right, then with the left. Not con- 
 tented with this, he rushed out of the room, ejaculating, 
 witli various alterations of accent, " Oh ! I am so pleased." 
 " Oh ! I am so pleased." " Oh ! I am so pleased." " Oh ! 
 I am so pleased." 
 
 Above all, he could not satisfy his temporary infatuation 
 for shaking hands. He shook hands with the butler, the 
 footman, he did not forget the page-boy, and he went 
 without his hat to the stables for the express purpose of 
 going through tlie process with the groom and coach- 
 man. But no ! this was not sufficient ; and he was com-
 
 JACK LINTON'S STRATAGEM. 215 
 
 pellcd, in sheer desperation, to rush up to a stone figure 
 of his great, great grandfather, which had stood in the 
 hall for a hundred and forty-seven years, with his right 
 hand half extended, as if for this express purpose. Sir 
 Frederick grasped the protruding digits and shook them 
 warmly for several minutes. Recollecting then that his 
 judicial presence was required by his fellow J. P.'s, to assist 
 them in not administering the law, he seized his hat, put it 
 on sideways, and darted off, shaking hands with everybody 
 by the way and inf(,)rming them that he was so pleased. 
 Even in the hall of justice, although much subdued, he 
 could not quite settle down ; and at a particular period of 
 the proceedings, when he was called upon as chairman to 
 pronounce a sentence of six months' imprisonment with 
 hard labour upon a prisoner. Sir Frederick did it in these 
 words: "You have been guilty of a very serious offence, 
 and you leave the court without a stain upon your char- 
 acter. The sentence upon you is six months' imprisonment 
 with hard labour. Oh ! I am so pleased." 
 
 How satisfied her ladyship was — how demented Sir Fre- 
 derick continued for several weeks — how unutterably happy 
 and how gratefully affectionate to I\Ir. Spraggles Jack and 
 Gertrude were — and how the last-named personage beamed 
 and smiled, and glowed and grunted, and chuckled — no 
 pen can tell. 
 
 Jack and Gertrude were not married for a year, and 
 during that time Mr. Spraggles, true to his word, estab- 
 lished Jack in a lucrative and rising position in a house of 
 business with which his interest was unbounded. 
 
 Jack worked hard and lived economically, and long
 
 2i6 JACK LINTON'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 before the year was finished had paid off the greater part of 
 his debts. 
 
 This short happy time of probation over, Jack I.inton 
 took unto him Gertrude Svvansdown to be his partner for 
 life. And on her did Mr. Spraggles settle a portion which 
 far exceeded in amount her ladyship's most sanguine 
 expectations. 
 
 Jack and Gertrude have been married some years no^v, 
 They look upon Mr. Spraggles as almost more than a 
 father, — and that genial, kindly, benevolent old fellow is 
 constantly with them, and they with him. He frequently 
 calls Jack "Mr. Spectre," and to this day never does so 
 without being convulsive for several minutes afterwards ; 
 and many a laugh do they have over "Jack Linton's 
 Stratagem " — and what came of it. 
 
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 EDINBURGH AND LONDON.
 
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 A FALLEN IDOL. 
 
 From the ATHEN.ffiUM. 
 
 " 'A Fallen Idol ' is a lively and laughable story, very much .nfter the ni.Tiincr of the 
 author's ' Tinted Venus,' &c., but the story is managed more cleverly than in the ' Tinted 
 Venus,' where absurdity was carried too far." 
 
 From the TIMES. 
 
 "Mr. Ansley's new story will delight the multitudinous public that laughed over 
 'Vice Versa.' . . . The boy who brings the accursed image to Champion's house, Mr, 
 Bales, the artist's factotum, and above all Mr. Yarkcr, the ex-butler who has turned 
 policeman, are figures whom it is as pleasant to meet as it is impossible to forget." 
 
 London : SMITH, ELDER, & CO., 15 Waleuoo Piacc.
 
 MISS THACKERAY'S WORKS. 
 
 Uniform Edition ; each Volume Illustrated with a Vignette 
 
 Title-page. 
 
 Large crown 8vo, 6s. each. 
 
 1. OLD KENSINGTON. 
 
 2. THE VILLAGE ON THE CLIFF. 
 
 3. FIVE OLD FRIENDS AND A YOUNG PRINCE. 
 
 4. TO ESTHER ; and other Sketches. 
 
 5. BLUEBEARD'S KEYS ; and other Stories. 
 
 6. THE STORY OF ELIZABETH ; TWO HOURS ; FROM AN 
 
 ISLAND. 
 
 7. TOILERS AND SPINSTERS ; and other Essays. 
 
 8. MISS ANGEL; FULHAM LAWN. 
 
 9. MISS WILLIAMSON'S DIVAGATIONS. 
 10. MRS. DYMOND. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED EDITIONS OF 
 
 Handsomely bound in cloth gilt, each Volume containing 
 Four Illustrations. 
 
 Crown Svo, 3s. 6d. each. 
 
 THE SMALL HOUSE AT ALLINGTON. By Anthony Trollope. 
 
 FRAMLEY PARSONAGE. By Anthony Trollope. 
 
 THE CLAVERINGS. By Anthony Trollope. 
 
 TRANSFORMATION: A Romance. By Nathaniel Hawthorne. 
 
 DOMESTIC STORIES. By the Author of " John Halifax, Gentleman." 
 
 NO NAME. By Wilkie Collins. 
 
 ARMADALE. By Wilkie Collins. 
 
 AFTER DARK. By Wilkie Collins. 
 
 THE MOORS AND THE FENS. By Mrs. J. II. Riddell. 
 
 WITHIN THE PRECINCTS. By Mrs. Oliphant. 
 
 CARITA. By Mrs. Oliphant. 
 
 FOR PERCIVAL. By Margaret Veley. 
 
 NO NEW THING. By W. E. NoRRls. 
 
 LOVE THE DEBT. By Basil. 
 
 London: SMITH, ELDER, & CO., 15 Waterloo Place.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 orm L9-50m-4,'61(B8994R4)444
 
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