University of Virginia Library PR4790.H25 P3 D Paul Pry’s Journal of a reside (An He Oe Au (x UIeS ¥ ; ra A AN LIBEA ALDERMAN Gl 4) 7 4 j iNEW BOOKS, RECENTLY PUBLISHED, AND PREPARING FOR PUBLICATION, BY E.L. CAREY & A. HART, PHILADELPHIA. 2 vols. 12mo. MY AUNT PONTYPOOL i charming work, which few of polished education will rise from till the last page has been peruscd.”—Monthly Review. 1 vol. 12mo. RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF THE HOUSE OF COMMONS, Including Personal Sketches of the Leading Members of all Parties, By One or no Parry. “ Admirably well taken Sketches. This work will be more exten- sively circulated and carefully read than any other volume published within the last three years.” —Sun. “ A most extraordinary work. It cannot fail to create a sensation both in the literary and political world.”—Scots Times. “ Racy in the extreme.”—Metropolitan. “Nothing more satisfactory was ever put into written language.” — Monthly Review. 1 vol. 8vo. THE STEAM ENGINE, Explained and illustrated in a familiar style, with its application to the Arts and Manufactures, more especially in transport by Land and Water; with some account of the Rail Roads now in progress in va- rious parts of the World. By the Rev. Dionysius Larpner, LL. D. From the Fifth London Edition. Illustrated with numerous Engravings and Wood Cuts, with all the late American Improvements, by Profes- sor Kenwick. 2 vols, 12mo. CORINNE, OR ITALY, \ et By Mapame Dre SraAkE.. 2 vols. 12mo. ; | THE - DISINHERITED AND ENSNARED. ) By the author of “ Flirtation,” “ A Marriage in High Life,” &c.Gif Se NCE RNS aoerei mel — — Pais Seema anes the’ ee BiG IIRY, Works Recently Published 2 vols. 12mo. THE COUNTESS, AND OTHER TALES. By Mrs. 8. C. Hatt, G. P. R. James, Capt. Marryatr, Mrs. Norton, d&c. &c. 2 vols. 12mo. THE NAVAL SKETCH BOOK. 2d Series. By Capt. Guascocn, R. N. I vol. 8vo. MEMOIR OF GRAMMONT. By Count Haminron. 1 vol. 12mo. ADVENTURES IN THE RIFLE BRIGADE. By Captain Kincarp. “ His book has one fault, the rarest fault in books, it is too short.’— Monthly Magazine. 1 vol. 12mo. RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF THE HOUSE OF LORDS, By the Author of “ Random Recollections of House of Commons.” } 2 vols. 12mo. i THE MAN OF HONOUR; AND THE RECLAIMED. By a Lapy or Rank. “ A beautiful and elegant production.”—Court Journal. “ Excessively entertaining volumes.” —Globe. “Witty touches and lively delineations are profusely scattered over these pages. They are obviously the production of a very clever per- son.”—Literary Gazette. 1 vol. 8vo. CAPT. BACK’S JOURNAL. JOURNAL OF THE ARCTIC LAND EXPEDITION IN SEARCH OF CAPTAIN ROSS. BY CAPTAIN BACK, R. N. &by E. L. Carey & A. Hart. In one large vol. 8vo. THE COMPLETE WORKS OF CAPTAIN MARRYATT. CONTAINING— Peter Simple, Japhet in Search of his Father, Jacob Faithful, Pacha of Many Tales, King’s Own, Newton Foster, Naval Officer, Pirate and Three Cutters. The above work is beautifully printed on fine paper, and is the only complete edition of the works of Capt. Marryatt. 2 vols. 12mo. TALES OF A SEA PORT TOWN. By Henry F. Cnor.ey. 1 vol. 12mo. JAPHET IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. Complete. 1 vol. 12mo. ONE IN A THOUSAND, OR THE DAYS OF HENRI QUATRE. By G. P. R. James, author of “ Darnley,” &c. 1 vol. 12mo. RIEN ZI, THE LAST OF, THE FRIBUNES. By E. L. Butwer. 2 vols, 12mo. AGNES SERLE, By the Author of the “ Heiress,” &c. A Dramatic and Interesting Story.”—Literary Gazette. 1 vol. 12mo. LIFE AND TIMES OF RIENZI, FROM THE FRENCH. 1 vel. 12 mo. PAUL FRY’S NEW BOOK. JOURNAL OF A RESIDENCE AT LITTLE PEDLINGTON. By the Author of “ Paul Pry.” F idee regs § pene * P VMN. x) yen ae Fae e ‘a! FR Tere re MOE re ak Sie 4 a Fr 7 eae 2 es 2 tltin. Se ta Mees aan) Ys —Peay isk ena CM EE GET AREER’, At ct, New Works. 2 vols. 12mo. TALES OF THE WARS OF MONTROSE. By the Errrick SHEPHERD. 2 vols. 12mo. FRESCATIS, OR THE SALONS OF PARIS. In one large vel. 8vo. CELEBRATED TRIALS, AND CASES OF CRIMINAL JURISPRUDENCE IN ALL AGES AND COUNTRIES. 2 vols. 12mo. A MIDSHIPMAN’S CRUISES, OR LIFE OF A SUB-EDITOR, By the Sub-Editor of the “ Metropolitan.” 3 vols. 12mo. TOM CRINGLE’S LOG, 4 vols. 12mo. CRUISE OF THE MIDGE, By the Author of “ Tom Cringle.” 2 vols. 12mo. TOE Di YY Orr E D, By the Author of “ A Marriage in High Life.” 2 vols. 12mo. THE MAGICIAN, By Leircn Ricutir. 2 vols. 12mo. SNARLEYYOW, OR THE DOG FIEND. By Captain Marryatt, Author of “ Peter Simple,” &c. 2 vols. 12mo. THE ACTRESS OF PADUA, AND OTHER TALES, By Ricuarp Penn Smiru, Esq. Author of the “* Forsaken.”PAUL PRY’S 107s Pa Seer Soe ee, Ba . eal ‘aan / ey : ae a | ; “| 2 | eet ox SeJOUTOIN Ad, OF AU Bara ENCE aD OE PRES ; ae aie aN | Gabe rn Whtladelpnta: Ee t, CAREY & Ai HART 1836.Sess gm <4 i F 4 4 i plea Bi RaePERSONAL NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY TO LITTLE PEDLINGTON. Frexvix Horry, Esq., Master of the Ceremonies at Little Pedlington, has conferred upon the world in general, and upon me in particular, a never-sufficient- ly-to-be-appreciated favour, by the publication of the Little-Pedlington Guide. At the approach of the summer season—that season when London (and since the pacification of Europe, all England) is de- clared to be unendurable by all those who fancy that they shall be happier any where than where they happen to be, and who possess the means and the opportunity of indulging in the experiment of change of place—at the approach of that season, this present, I found myself, like Othello, “ perplexed in the ex- treme.”? The self-proposed question, “ And where shall I go this year?”? I could not answer in any way to my satisfaction. I had visited, as I believed, every spot in Europe which celebrity, from some cause or other, had rendered attractive. I had climb- ed many thousands of feet up Mont Blanc, and had stood on the very suinmit of Greenwich Hill; I had “swam ona gondola’”’ at Venice, and “ patienced’’ in a punt at Putney; had found my way through the 2 oes rh. Se ‘ 2) a po ae i ae Oe " yee CT ee TW rt aae SO GRRE erat neato Pn Re iE Pattie ys a 6 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY dark and tangled forests of Germany, and lost it in the Maze of Hampton Court; bathed in the changing waters of the Rhone and in the consistent mud of Gravesend; beheld the fading glories of old Rome, and the rising splendours of New Kemp Town; I had heard the Miserere performed in the Sistine Chapel, and the hundred-and-fourth psalm sung by the charity-boys in Hampstead church; I had seen the Raphaels at Florence, the Corregios at Dresden, the Rembrandts at Rotterdam, and the camera-ob- scura at Margate; I had tasted of Caviare on the shores of the Black Sea, and of white-bait on the banks of Blackwall; I had travelled on a Russian sledge and ina Brentford omnibus; I had been every where (in Europe—the boundary of all my travyel- ling projects), done every thing, seen every thing, heard every thing, and tasted of every thing. Novel- ty, and change of scene, are the idle man’s induce- ments to travel: for me there remained neither. I was—to use a melancholy phrase I once heard feel- ingly uttered by a young nobleman who had not then attained his twentieth year—dlasé sur tout! Still the unanswerable question recurred—“ And where shall I go this year?’’ | As for the hundredth time I exclaimed, “ And where shall I go this year!’? a packet was sent me by my bookseller, who has a general order to supply me with all voyages, travels, journeys, tours, road- books, guides, and atlases, as soon as published. The parcel contained new editions of “ Denham’s Travels in Africa,’’ of “ Humboldt’s in South America,’’ and of «¢ Parry’s Voyages;”’ together with, just pub- lished, and wet from the press, “The Stranger’sTO LITTLE PEDLINGTON. 7 Guide through Little Pedlington, by Felix Hoppy, Esq., M. C.”? Throwing aside the rest as unimpor- tant to my present purpose, I, on the instant, perused this last, No longer was I doubtful concerning my “whereabout.”’? Little Pedlington, thought I, must be a Paradise! And had not my desire to visit this heaven upon earth been sufficiently excited by the exquisite lines so aptly quoted by the M. C. from the charming poem of the “ tuneful Jubb,’’— Hail, Pedlingtonia! hail, thou favour’d spot! What’s good is found in thee; what’s not, is not!” had not the promise of so much to gratify as well the intellect as the senses induced me thither; a feel- ing of shame, the consciousness that the bitter reproof uttered by the M. C. himself applied in its fullest force to my case, would alone have urged me to make the amende honourable by an immediate journey to the place. «¢ Well may it be said,’ he exclaims, “that Eng- lishmen are prone to explore foreign countries ere yet they are acquainted with their own; and many a one will talk ecstatically of the marble palaces of Venice and Herculaneum, who is ignorant of the beauties of Little-Pedlington.” True, true, indeed! and, myself standing in that predicament, I felt the sarcasm the more acutely. It was a suffering of a nature not long to be borne with patience; so I resolved to hook a place for that same evening in the Little Pedlington mail. Not a little was my astonishment on learning that there was no mail to that celebrated place; but great ‘ndeed it was when I was informed that there wasSoA SN NE Ree we ee BR PRR. ne eel TS el pete rth LEE (en aE ct i OS <= 8 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY no public conveyance whatever direct thither! However, I found that the Winklemouth coach (which ran nearer to it than any other) would set me down at Poppleton-End; that there I should be pretty sure of meeting with some one who would carry my luggage to Squashmire-gate, a short three miles; and that from thence to Little-Pedliagton, a distance of eight miles—there or thereabouts— a coach ran regularly three times a week during the season. Too happy to get there in any manner, I took a place in the Winklemouth coach, and, short- ly afterwards was rattling on towards the goal of my desires. Between four and five in the morning the coach pulled up at the corner of a narrow cart-road, of no very inviting appearance, the soil being of clay, and the holes and wheel-tracks filled with water by the late heavy rains. A slight drizzling rain was falling then. The country for miles round was a dead flat, and not a house or shelter of any kind, save here and there a tree, was to be seen. “ Poppleton-End. Sir,” said the guard, as he let down the step. “What! is this Poppleton-End?”’ said I. “Yes, Sir,” replied he (adding with a leer which clearly indicated that he was satisfied of the excel- lence of his joke), “ and has been, time out of mind.” “But I have a heavy valise with me,’ said I, as I alighted. “Yes, Sir,’ replied the guard, taking it down from the top of the coach, ae plod it against the boundary- stone at the corner of the lane; ‘ it is pre- cious heavy indeed.”’TO LITTLE PEDLINGTON. 9 “¢Why—lI was informed that I should find some- body here who would carry it to Squashmire-gate; but there is no person within sight, and I can’t car- ry it myself.”’ “Why no, Sir, I don’t very well see how you can; at least,’ continued he, in the same facetious tone, “it wouldn’t be altogether pleasant. However, Sir, you have a very good chance of Blind Bob com- ing out with his truck in about half-an-hour—or so.” I hate the phrase “ or so.”’ It is a cheat, an impos- tor, a specious rogue and an insidious. In all mat- ters involving an inconvenience, I have invariably found that it is en aggravation of the original evil at least threefold. Thus, your “ three miles or so, far- ther,’’ to the place of your destination, after a weari- some walk in a strange country, may usually be >? in an uncertain computed at nine; “a guinea or so, charge, at three; if waiting the arrival of your bride, ‘an hour or so,”’ at aday, a week, a year; if of your wife—but that is a case dependent upon peculiar cir- cumstances. « And pray, guard,” inquired I, rather peevishly, «“ where am I to wait during that half-hour—or so?”’ « Why, Sir, if you should chance to miss Blind Bob, you might perhaps find it a /eetle awkward with that large trunk of yours; so if you'll take my advice Sir, you’ll wait where you are. Good morn- ing, Sir. I don’t think it will be much of a rain, Sir. All right, Bill; get on.”? So saying, he mounted the coach, and left me seated beneath my umbrella on the boundary-stone at Poppleton-End, at half-past four of the morning, in a drizzling rain. —— ee RS eR ne OS om i a = te ies 2 ere ee eenMil a nen. TR ane fe ake ag a FSi isa * f tie ela a RIM at ee Bs ua PTB asi Eis RS TFN pons Nea Some ESN sages" 10 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY They who travel much must be prepared to meet with difficulties; sometimes to encounter dangers; these carry a compensation with them in the excite- ment which they produce, and the high feelings they inspire. But one sinks under a tame and spiritless convenience; one’s fortitude sneaks off, as it were, and one’s temper oozes away. At five, at half-past five, at six o’clock, there I still sat, and not a human creature-had come near me. The abominable rain, too! Rain! it was unworthy the name of rain. A good, honest, manly shower, which would have made one wet through-and through in five seconds I could have borne without complaint; but to be made to suf- fer the intolerable sensation of dampness merely, by a snivelling, drivelling, mizzling, drizzling sput- ter, and, that too, by dint of the exercise of its petty spite for a full hour-and-a-half—! There are an- noyances which, it is said, are of a nature to make a parson swear; but this would have set swearing the whole bench of Bishops, with their Graces of York and Canterbury at their head. At length I perceived at some distance down the lane,a man dragging along a truck, at what seemed to me a tolerably brisk pace, considering the state of the road. He drew it by means of a strap passing over his shoulders and across his chest: and he car- ried in his hand a stout staff, which he occasionally struck upon the ground, though apparently not for support. He was rather above the middle height, broad, square, afid muscular,—a cart-horse of a fel- low. On arriving within two steps of my resting- place, he stopped, and with a voice of ten-boatswain power, shouted— Ba Wr eee ee ee a SE Si RB TR ENCEMES sa nce atiTO LITTLE PEDLINGTON. 11 “Any one here for Squash’ire gate?” “ Yes,”’ said I, almost stunned by the report, “don’t you see? I am here.’’ “T wish I could,’ said he; “but as I have lived blind Bob all my life, Blind Bob I shall die.” The guard’s description of my intended guide and carrier as “ Blind Bob”? had certainly not prepared me for the phenomenon I was now to witness. Had I, indeed, paid any attention to it, the utmost I should have expected, as a justification of it, would have been a deduction of fifty per cent. from the usual al- lowance of eyes, in the case of the party in question. But here was a guide stone-blind!* ‘ Blind!’? I exclaimed; “ under the circumstance you have chosen a strange occupation.” “We can’t choose what we like in this world, Sir; if I warn’t blind I’d never ha’ chose to-get my living by being a guide, that I promise you.” On my informing him that I had a portmanteau with me, and indicating the spot where it stood, he moved towards it, and, lifting it up, he tossed it, heavy as it was, over his shoulder into the truck, and instantly set forward towards Squashmire-Gate. «The “short three miles”? turning out, as matter of course, to be “a long five’? and the whole of the road for that agreeable distance being ankle-deep in mud, it was nearly nine o’clock when we came to * Many persons may have seen the blind man, who is (or lately was) frequently to be found at the * Bull’ at Stroud, and who acted as guide to strangers acress the country be- tween that place and Mereworth. His services were scarce- ly ever required except on dark nights, when he Jed the way with a lantern in his hand. yr IENRE a a Rah NO alana Aelia Dane HEE RB ae ’ ae . = a : anes PM Be Aiage Ri Aa) eet ent m NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY the end of this portion of the journey. The conver- sation of my companion on the way might possibly have proved to be pleasant could I have afforded to purchase it at his price, which was—from the extra- ordinary loud tone of his voice—to suffer a smart box o’ the ear at each word he uttered: this was be- yond my power of endurance, so that, after a ques- tion and a remark or two, 1 remained silent. I call- ed to mind a certain person, who, being accosted in in the street by a blind clarionet-screecher with « Have pity on the poor blind,” replied, “1 would if I myself were deaf!” Squashmire-Gate cannot, with strict regard to truth, he termed a pretty place; but as it puts forth no claim to that character, and as it is, moreover, the last stage on the road to Little Pedlington, it would be ungrateful as well as unjust to criticise it severely. It consists merely of a small public house, of the most modest pretensions, situate on one side of a crooked road, slushy and miry: a small farriery on the other; a barn, a pig-sty, and a horse-trough. And such is Squashmire-Gate, where I was doomed to exist, as best I could, till the arrival of the coach —a term of three mortal hours! Tell not me of the clock or of the dial as the true indicators of the progress of time. Nay, there are periods in every one’s existence when the very sun himself isa “lying chronicler.’? There are occa- sions when, between his rising and his setting, months, years, ages, drag slowly along:—in hope, doubt, or anxiety—in sickness or in sorrow—or when waiting the arrival of the Little-Pedlington coach at such a place as Squashmire-Gate! nT cpaTO LITTLE PEDLINGTON. 13 Well! breakfast would beguile the half of an houré so I ordered breakfast, which I took to the accom- paniment of a “concord of sweet sounds;’’ the squeaking of a child cutting its teeth, the croaking of araven in a wicker cage, the creaking of the sign- board on its rusty hinges, the occasional braying of a donkey, and the ceaseless yelping of a cur confined in a cupboard. Breakfast ended, and only half-past nine! What was to be done next? Are there any books in the house? No, not one. A newspaper? No. Then bring me pen, ink, and paper. They were “quite out”’ of paper, the cat had just broken the ink-bottle, and somehow they had mislaid ¢he pen:—a circum- stance the importance of which was considerably diminished by the two previous accidents. I turned for amusement to the window-panes. There was not a line, nora word, nor a letter, nor a scratch to be seen. The vulgar scribble upon the glass, by which one is usually offended at country inns, would to me, in my then desolate condition, have been delight ineffable. To have been informed that J. P. and C. S. dined hear on the 15th off June; and that Ephraim Trist loves Jane Higs; or that Susen Miles is a beatifull cretear; or even such tender exclamations as O? Mariar? or O Poly!!—this, the smallest information, would not only have been thankfully received, but it would have become to me matter of profound interest. But not a line, not a letter! At length, after the lapse of considerable time, it came to be ten o’clock,14 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY “ And pray, my good woman,” inquired I of the hostess, “ is there no chance of the Little-Pedlington coach coming through earlier than twelve to-day?”’ “ Not earlier, Sir; indeed I shouldn’t wonder if it’s arter instead of afore, seeing the state of the roads?”’ “ What!”’ shouted Blind Bob, who was in the kitchen and overhead our short colloquy. ‘ What! afore! and with them ’ere roads! The Lippleton ‘Wonder’ won’t be here afore three to day. Blesh you, 1t can?t.’ “‘Three!”? I exclaimed. It is impossible to re- main here till three o’clock; I shall die of impatience and ennut. Can I have a chaise, or a gig?’’ “ No, Sir.”’ replied the woman; “ we have nothing of that sort. To be sure we have a one horse kind of a cart’’—here was a prospect of escape—“ but our horse died Friday week, and my good man hasn’t yet been able to suit himself with another. “Then,” said I, “as the rain has ceased, I’]] leave my portmanteau to be sent on by the ‘Wonder,’ and will walk the eight miles to Little-Pedlington.”’ “ What!”’ again shouted my evil genius, for as such I now began to consider him; “eight mile? It’s thirteen good mile any day of the year; and as you must go round by Lob’s Farm, ’cause of the waters being out at Slush-lane, it’s a pretty tightish seventeen just now.” Had it so chanced that Job had espoused Griselda, and I been the sole offspring of so propitious an union, sole inheritor of their joint wealth of patience, my whole patrimony would have been insufficientTO LITTLE PEDLINGTON. 15 to answer the exorbitant demands now made upon it. To find my journey lengthening in nearly the proportion in which it ought to have diminished; to be mud-bound in a place like this, without a resource of any kind, corporeal or intellectual, to beguile the time: and, in aggravation of these annoyances, to be condemned to the ceaseless infliction of the combined yell, yelp, squeak, screech, and scream of the sick child, the sorry puppy, and the other performers, animate and inanimate, in the cruel concert which I have before alluded to—! I know not how my imagined parents would have acted under a similar pressure of ills; but, for my part, I surrendered at discretion to the irresistible attack, and, striking the table with a force which caused the astonished tea-pot to leap an inch high “ And must I,’”’ I exclaimed “ mws¢ I remain in this infernal place for the whole of this miserable day?”’ The poor woman, evidently hurt at the opprobi- ous term which I had cast upon her village (for such I suppose, she considered Squashmire-Gate to be), slowly shook her head; and with a look of mild re- buke, and in a corresponding tone—— “ Sir,’’ she said, “all the world can’t be Lipple- ton; if it was—it would be much too fine a place, and too good for us poor sinners to live in.”’ I would not be thought to undervalue the great work of Felix Hoppy, Esq., M. C.; but admirable as it is for the elegance of its style, and unrivalled for the graphic (that, I believe, is the word now commonly in use upon these occasions), the gra- phic power of its descriptions, I declare that that one na P Cae ee ee ities a ear og ee NN set, EES16 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY simply-eulogistic phrase of my hostess’s would as effectually have excited my disire to behold the beauties and the wonders of Little-Pedlington, as had already been accomplished by the most elabo- rate temptation offered by the illustrious Hoppy himself. Although this was adding fuel to the fire of my impatience, I was at once overcome by the gentle- ness of the woman’s manner; and, unwilling that she should consider me as an incarnation of slander and detraction, I “explained”? somewhat after the Parlia- mentary fashion; assuring her that by the phrase ‘infernal place,’”’ I meant nothing more than that it was the sweetest spot on earth, but that | was anx- ious to proceed on my journey. And now, having satisfied her that I meant no offence to Squashmire- Gate, “ Consider,”’ said I, “ consider that I have yet five hours to remain here: you cannot furnish me either with books, or papers, or with any earthly thing which would serve to lighten the time;’’ (ad- ding, in the most imploring tone I could assume), “tell me, tell me what can I do to amuse myself?”’ The landlady looked at me as if she felt my ap- peal in its fullest force; then fondly casting her eyes on the sick, squalling child which she carried on her arm; then again looking at me, said—‘ 1’m sure I hardly know, Sir, what you can do; but if you would like to nurse baby for two or three hours you are heartily welcome, indeed you are, Sir.” Nothing perhaps could more strikingly illustrate the forlorn and helpless condition to which I was re- duced, than that it should have instigated one human in Ad is RO BE oP % ee ee ees ‘ i Raaptapr DIES eg Th eh ONS POE reat ek SEE eee gin 5 . aTO LITTLE PEDLINGTON. 1? being to venture such a proposal to another. Invit- ing as was the offer, I declined it—taking due credit to myself for so exemplary a display of self-denial. The weather cleared, and the impartial sun shed a portion of its brightness even upon the ugliness of Squashmire-Gate. The landlady seized the auspi clous moment to vindicate the reputation of the place,and, leading me to the door, exclaimed in a tone of triumph, “ Now look, Sir! Itstands to reason, you know, that no place can look pretty in bad weather.”’ Yet could I not exult in my position. Perhaps the first impression may have produced an unfavour- able prejudice in my mind; yet, a barn, a horse- trough, a pig-sty, and a smithy, with here and there a stunted tree, were not materials out of which to extract beauty, or capable of exciting pleasurable emotions. No; in these my cooler moments of re- flection, I still maintain that Squashmire-Gate is no¢ a pretty place. [ walked, or rather waded, outside the house. I peeped into the pig-sty, looked into the barn, exa- mined the smithy, and counted the ducks in the pond. Next, to vary my amusement, I began with the barn, then proceeded to inspect the pig-sty, then on to the duck-pond, and so forth. But by the greatest possible exercise of my ingenuity, I could not force the time on beyond half-past eleven. “And here I must needs remain till three!”’ thought L. Upon occasions like the present, when one hap- pens to be coach-bound, or otherwise detained in a country-place, the church-yard is an infallible re- Q J are fa aie Ene en en es ae 318 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY source, and an epitaph-hunt will generally repay the labour of the chase. I inquired whereabouts was the church. “Just over at Hogsnorton, Sir.’ «¢ And what’s the distance to Hogsnorton, Ma’am?”’ ‘©We call it five mile; but it may be five mile and a: Wali? « Hogsnorton five and a half!’’ shouted Bob; “it’s seven mile or so, any day,” “The “or so’? was sufficient; so I decided against a pilgrimage to Hogsnorton. « But la! Sir, how could | come to forget it !” exclaimed the landlady, upon the impulse of a sud- den recollection ; “there’s Dribble-Hall you might see, if it warn’t that the roads are so bad.”’ « And what, and where, is Dribble-Hall, pray !’’ ‘La! Sir; have you never heard of Dribble-Hall, as belongs to Squire Dribble??? [I shall take a fu- ture opportunity of introducing my readers to Squire Dribble.] “Why, Sir,’ continued mine hostess, “ folks come from fay and near to see Dribble-Hall. Such picturs ! and such stattys! and such grounds! and such a person as the Squire himself is! Dear me; if it warn’t for the roads Pe «‘ Never mind the roads,” said I (delighted at the chance of an agreeable mode of getting through this intolerable morning) ; “never mind the roads, if the place he within a reasonable distance.”’ ‘It’s only two mile and a half,” replied she. “¢ What !”’ roared Blind Bob; (I expected that, as usual he was preparing to multiply the distance by three ; but this time I was agreeably disappoint- -ed.) “ What! two mile and a half! that’s going eoinmeeratmeetmete OeTO LITTLE PEDLINGTON. 19 by the road : but if the gentleman takes by the green gate, it an’t much more than a mile.” “ And pray, Bob, which way must I go ?” « Why, Sir, when you get out, keep on straight to the left till you come to the green gate—green gate, mind—and then turn smack to the right, and that takes you up to the house, across the Squire’s meadows ; but be sure you turn to the right as soon as ever you come to the green gate, or you’ll chance to be getting back again to Poppleton-End.”’ “ But when I have been at the pains of walking to Dribble-Hall, will the squire allow me to see his place ?”’ “QO yes, Sir,’? replied the landlady, “and glad enough, too ; forall the house-maid—the house-keep- er she ts called at the Hall—who receives no wages, gets less than ten pound a year from yisitors, the squire is obliged to make good to her; whilst what- ever she gets above that, he shares with her,—which is but fair, you know, Sir.’’ In acommercial country, where every thing is considered relatively to its money-value, it certainly is * but fair’? that noblemen and gentlemen, whose mansions and their contents are worth an inspection, should allow their servants to make a charge for the exhibition of them. Ido not pretend that such a proceeding is noble, or dignified, or handsome, in- deed, altogether worthy of a person of high station; but merely and strictly that 1t is fazr. We pay for seeing the lions in the Tower and in Wombell’s booth; a charge is made for showing the wax-work in Westminster Abbey and at Mrs, Salmon’s rooms; See MS ra ge mae ae. oe d a ee bie : a Bt a Ne cr aE20 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY and upon what principle either of justice or equity are we to expect that the Duke of A. or the Earl of Z., if they allow us to see their galleries or their erounds, should grant us such an indulgence gratis? The notion is preposterous. There are indeed cer- tain thriftless proprietors of what are called show- houses who are so inconsiderate as to do this, but they form an exception to the general rule; and happily for the honour and integrity of the maxim, “ Give ’? such instances of improvi- dence are not numerous, Yet I cannot help think- ing that Squire Dribble pushes the practice a ttle too far, though he deserves some praise for honestly avowing the principle upon which it is founded. Well; I set forth for Dribble-Hall, along a road which one might have imagined had been construct- ed of boot-jacks, for, at each step I took, my boots were half-drawn off my feet by the necessary effort of extricating them from the tenacious soil. Fol- lowing Bob’s directions, with punctuality equal to their precision I kept ¢o the deft ; but after walking —if struggling through such a road may be so term- ed—for considerably more than an hour, I had not arrived at a green gate,—the point at which I was to change my course for the right. Gates of all colours, black, white, and brown, I had passed, and occasionally a road branching off in a different direc- tion ; but no green gate had I seen. Nevertheless, confiding in the instructions of my blind guide, I proceeded; when lo! at the expiration of another nour, I found myself in the lane which I had traversed in the morning, about mid-way between Squashmire nothing for nothing,TO LITTLE PEDLINGTON. Si Gate and Poppleton-End ! « O, Little-Pedlington!”’ thought I; “a paradise before the fall must thou be to compensate me for all that I have this day endured for thy sake!”’ << Disappointed, wearied, and vexed, I returned to my hoted at Squashmire Gate; and there, on a bench before the door, sat Blind Bob. “ Raseal!”? I exclaimed; how dared you thus de- ceive me? how dared you send me on this wild-goose chase?”’ “ Couldn’t you find the Hall, Sir? I told you to keep to the left till you came to the green gate, and then Pv «J did keep to the left till here I am again ; but the deuce a green gate is there the whole way.” « I think I ought to know best, Sir. Tell me of no green gate, indeed! Did you notice two tall poplars, with a gate between them, leading into a meadow?”’ «J did,—a newly painted whzte gate.” « White ! nonsense, Sir, begging your pardon ; what does that signify ? That be the green gate, and has been always called so in these parts, time out 0’ mind. It’s 0’ no use to be angry with me: it’s no fault o? mine if Squire has taken and had it painted white.” Obdurate must be his heart who is not to be paci- fied by a reason, or strengthened by the explanation of the landlady, who told me that, although the gate had always seryed asa sort of road-guide, yet Squire Dribble being “a gentleman who looked sharply after his farthings,’’ had resolved that for Q* Po eke ane ON Nici ~ , Bo) ee pt ee at Shira ee ME 4 iy Sas ar es ee i ek rae ee ye paced ane meas joe 3 eae Pere ae 14 ——22 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY the future it should be painted white—white paint being rather cheaper than green. ‘¢ Order dinner,’ said a generally-too-late friend with whom I had agreed to dine at a tavern one day; “Order dinner at six for half-past, and 1 will posi- tively be with you at seven.’’? The Little-Pedling- ton “ Wonder” being expected up at three, it conse- quently arrived at half-past four. And “O! what damned minutes told I o’er”’ in that long interval! The Little Pedlington “ Wonder’? was a heavy, lumbering coach, licensed to carry six inside and fourteen out; was drawn by two skinny horses, and driven. by a coachman built after the exact fashion of the coach he drove, zd est, lumbering and heavy. “Full out, room for one in,’’ was the coachman’s reply to my question whether I could have a place. f expressed my disappointment at not having an out- side place, as I should thus'be deprived of obtaining the first possible view of Little Pedlington; nor was my disappointment diminished by Coachee’s remark that that was, zadeed, a sight ! “ And how long will it be before you start, coach- man ??? «“ About a quarter of an hour or so, Sir,’’? was the reply. “What !? bellowed forth my everlasting friend, Bob ; “a quarter of an hour! You'll not get away from here afore six, Master Giles, and youknow you won’t.”” Mr. Giles was part proprietor of the “ Wonder” (the only coach on that road) which he drove up one day, and down another ; so, there being no opposi- SATO LITTLE PEDLINGTON., es fw 1 tion, he carried matters with a high hand, deferring to the wishes or the convenience of one only person that ever travelled by the « W onder,”’ wl 11i¢ch one was himself. “Six 1’ said Giles, taking up the word of Blind Bob ; “why, to be sure; mustn’t I havea bit of Ssummut to eat? and mustn’t I rest a bit? and mustn’t my cattle rest a bit! How can I get off afore six ? My tits are tolerable good ones; but if I didn’t give ’em a rest here and there, how’d ever they get on to Lippleton 1 should like to know id Considering the appearance of his « tits,”’ the load they had to drag, and the roads along which they were doomed to drag it, that question was, certainly, a poser. When I was told of the Little Pedling- ton “ Wonder,”’ my expectations were of a rapidity of progress second in degree only to that of flying; but in the present case, the sole claim which the ve- hicle could conscientiously make to the title was, that it could be prevailed upon to move at all. It was, therefore, not without trepidation that I ven- tured to inquire at about what time we were likely to get into Little Pedlington. “ Why,’ replied Giles, “ we must take the long road this afternoon, on account of the waters ; so we shan’t get in much afore nine.’’ “ And very fair travelling, too,” said 1, happy at length, at knowing when this day of disagreeables was to terminate: “seventeen miles in three hours is not to be complained of—under the circumstan- ces.”’ « What !’’again shouted the inveterate Blind Bob;24 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY “ nine ? you’ll not “see Lippleton afore eleven to- night. Why, the ‘ Wonder,” never does more nor four milean hour the best o’times, and here’s the long road to take, and as heavy as putty. Besides, won’t you stop three times more to rest the horses? Isay you’ll not see Lippleton afore eleven: it stands to reason, and you know you won’t.”’ «“ Why, you stupid old fool,” said Giles,’ “ you say yourself I must stop three times to rest the horses : then how can I get in afore eleven ? Some folks talk as if they were out of their common senses.”? Saying which, Giles entered the house : leaving me in some doubt whether the Fates might not have determined against my ever seeing Little Pedlington atall. «Something must be contrived to pass the time between this and six o’clock, and dinner was the only expedient that occurred to me. I called the landlady, who came, as usual, with that inevitable squalling child upon her arm. It was screaming as if it would have screamed its head off, and I could not avoid commencing my address by a profane parody on Shakspeare:—* First of all, my good woman, ‘silence that dreadful child.’ ” «La! Sir; consider you were once a child your- self,’’? was her reply: a rebuke, by-the-by, which you invariably receive if you presume to complain of the performance of that the most intolerable music ever composed by Nature. Now, admitting the fact that I was once a child myself, it by no means fol- lows as a necessary consequence that I was a squall- ing child: the justice, therefore, of applying the re-TO LITTLE PEDLINGTON. 25 buke to me I am always disposed to question. On the other hand, if I did delight in that atrocious mode of exalting my voice, my present opinion is, that, for the comfort of society, I ought to have been, in some way or other—to use a favourite melo-drama- tic phrase—* disposed of.’’ I throw this out mere- ly as a hint; though I by no means positively advise that it be acted upon in any manner that might be unpleasant to the rising generation. Query: Was King Herod, at heart, a wicked man? Having, at the risk of a sore throat, contrived to scream louder than the child, I inquired what I could have for dinner. “ What would you like, Sir?’ ‘¢ A boiled chicken.”’ ‘We have never a chicken, Sir; but would you like some eggs and bacon.” «No. Can I have a lamb chop?’’ « No, Sir; but our eggs and bacon is very nice.”’ ‘“ Or a cutlet—or a steak “No, Sir; but we are remarkable here for our eggs and bacon.”’ 553 «¢ Haye you any thing cold in your larder?” «“ Not exactly, Sir; but I’m sure you will like our eggs and bacon.”’ ‘Then what have you got?’’ « Why, Sir, we have got nothing but eggs and bacon.”’ ‘‘OQ!—then have the goodness to give me some eggs and bacon.” gs and bacon, Sir; r oo “TI was sure you’d choose e we are so famous for it.’?Ree eee aL Mae Nes Tet Ce AERC 26 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY Having finished my dinner, I thought it proper, for the good of the house, to inquire what wine I could have—of course, not expecting that my choice would be much perplexed by the variety offered. “ What would you like, Sir?’’ «Some —Port.”’ “¢ We have no Port, sir.”’ ‘A little Sherry, then.” “We don’t keep Sherry, Sir; in short, we have so little call for wine, that we don’t keep any of no kind.’’ “Then pray give me some lemonade.”’ “ Yes, Sir. Do you prefer it with lemon or with- out?’’ “ How!” “ Why—only we happen just now to be out of lemons.”’ Finding that I should be obliged to « mait it,’ I asked for—what, from its delicious flavour, is now becoming the rage with the drinkers of England’s Own—Collin’s Richmond Ale. Fortunately they could supply me with that, so I had but little cause to regret their being “out’’ of the rest. At length the welcome moment for our departure arrived. “T think,’”? said Giles, as he clumsily clambered up to his box—“J think we shall have a little more rain yet.” What!’ for the last time cried our Job’s com- forter; “a little? You’ll have rain enough to drownd you long afore you’re half way to Lippleton, and thunder along with it, mind if you don’t. I can feel it in my head, and it stands to reason.” Ne aeTO LITTLE PEDLINGYON. ; oO 7 I took my place inside the coach; and now, being fairly on my road to that haven of bliss, Little Ped- lington, I soon forgot all the past annoyances of the day. Yet was not my position one of absolute com- fort. I was jammed in between two corpulent ladies —of whom one was suffering under a violent tooth- ache, and the other from head-ache. Opposite to me was a stout man with a strong Stilton cheese on his knee; another, saturated with the fumes of bad cigars, with which he had been regaling himself; and the third had with hima packet of red herrings. Between the two ladies a constant dispute was main- tained as to whether the glasses should be up or down: she of the tooth declaring that if the windows were open the air would be the death of her: whilst the cephalagian as eagerly contended that she should incontestably expire from the heat if they were shut; and as the contest was carried on across me, I was in imminent danger of suffocation under the weight, not of the arguments, but the arguers. In addition to the compound of odours I have mentioned, one of the fair sufferers was using camphor and the other ether. We proceeded at what might be the pace of a hearse in a hurry—something short of four miles an hour. At every hovel by the road-side Mr. Giles pulled up to enjoy his“ tithe of talk”? with its inhabi- tants. Remonstrance and entreaty on the part of us, the impatient travellers, were useless. He plain- ly told us, that as there was no opposition on the road, he had always had his own way; and that he saw no reason why he should be baulked of it now. Then he stopped at one small public-house to eat,RESIDENCE IN LITTLE-PEDLINGTON. 28 NARRA®IVE OF A JOURNEY, &c. and at the next to drink, and at another to rest. A long journey, fairly performed, is not an aflair to complain of; but, oh! the torments of a short one prolonged by needless delay! At ten o’clock we had yet six miles of ours to accomplish. The night was dark; suddenly, as the sea-song has it, “the rain a deluge poured,”? and (to continue the quotation) ‘loud roared the dreadful thunder,’? when—within about two miles of Little Peclington—crash! the pole broke. Whether or not the horses took fright, I have never had any means of ascertaining; certain it 1s, they neither became unmanageable, nor did they run away; they were not in astate to do either; so, like jaded, sensible horses as they were, they stood stock-still. After considerable delay, and ma- ny fruitless attempts to repair the accident, we were compelled to walk through a pelting shower the re- mainder of the way. AsI approached the town, (though from the utter darkness I could not see it,) I felt as one feels on first beholding Rome, or as Bonaparte is said to have felt at the first sight of the Pyramids; and when, at length, I found myself in a bed-room at Scorewell’s hotel, in High-street—for- getting all my by-gone troubles, I exultingly ex- claimed—“ And here Iam in Little-Pedlington!” Early the next morning But here I must pause.—Ail that follows will ap- pear in the form of a JouRNAL KEPT DURING AEXTRACTS FROM A JOURNAL KEPT DURING A RESI. DENCE IN LITTLE PEDLINGTON. CHAPTER I. “All the world can’t be Little Pedlington; if it was—it would be much too fine a place, and too good for us poor sinners to liye . ” in. Monday, June 15.—Those words which made so powerful an impression upon me when uttered by mine hostess in rebuke of my evil speaking of Squashmire-gate—those words occurred to me, as { awoke at eight o’clock of this, the morning of the 15th of: June: those words, therefore, have I placed on the first page of the journal which I now com- mence, and which I purpose to continue during my residence in Little Pedlington. Each night will 1 repeat them ere I register the events of the day past, or minute down the conversation to which | may have listened; or in which I may have shared —or ere I venture to record my judgment and opin- ions, whether of persons or of things: so shall the spirit of indulgence guide my pen! And should it be my chance to encounter amongst the Pedlingto- nians some whose manners, whose acquirements, or whose genius may fail to satisfy my full-strained expectation, let me remember that as all the world cannot be one entire and perfect Little Pedlington, so neither canI reasonably hopeto find inevery Pedling- ton aHoppy,aRummins, oraJubb. Letme, O Truth! walk hand in hand with thee. And if haply upon 430 RESIDENCE IN occassion I slightly deviate from thy path severe, be it only to “ hide the fault I see’’—he it to “ex- tenuate,’’ not to “set down in malice.”? But if to propitiate the demon Vanity—if to purchase, or to maintain a reputation for wit or sentiment, for sen- sibility or sarcasm, for talent or for ¢acé, 1 sacrifice, O Goddess! one atom of thy divine spirit at the shrine of Detraction, may I be hunted from the High-street to the Crescent, from Yawkins’s skit- tle-ground to the “new pump which stands in the centre of Market-square,’’? and driven with scorn and contumely from out the peaceful precincts of Little-Pedlington, never to return! And now—having made, as it were, my profes- sion of faith—now to proceed. Rose at eight; with what emotions did I listen to the clock of Little Pedlington Church, as, for the Jirst time, \ heard it strike the hour! Thought of my own dear clock which stands on the mantel- piece in my library in my still remembered “ home, sweet home,’’ No. 16,——— Street, — Square, and was preparing to shed a tear, when I was inter- rupted by the chambermaid who knocked at my door and inquired whether I wished for some warm water?—Not sorry for the interruption, for, on re- flection, didn’t come to Little Pedlington to do the sentimental. The jug of warm water she brought me being a small one, desired she would bring a larger. * 2s * x * [As I profess to publish extracts merely from my Journal, I suppress many points which are not, per-LITTLE PEDLINGTON. 3 haps, of sufficient importance to interest the general reader: as in the present case, for instance:—“ The second jug of water not being sufficiently warm, I sent it away to be heated—nearly seven minutes be- fore she returned withit!?? And afterwards, when writing of my breakfast, I have suppressed the fact, that “one of the eggs being téo much boiled, I de- sired, that another might be sent me, boiled only three minutes and a quarter. A hard egg is my mortal aversion.’? The reflection, however, I have thought worth preserving. The suppressions I shall print hereafter, in a separate volume, for distribution amongst my private friends. ] Having finished dressing, was in doubt whether to walk out before breakfast, or to take breakfast be- fore walking out. After a long deliberation with myself, resolved, notwithstanding my impatience to see the place, to breakfast first; as, that operation being performed, I should then enjoy the uninter- rupted command of the morning. On my way down to the coffee-room met the chambermaid. In- quired of her which was considered to be the prin- cipal inn of the place. Told me that this was— that there were two others which were so-so places upon the whole, but quite wnferior for gentlefolks —that all the tip-top people came here. Here she was interrupted by the violent ringing of a bell. Made her excuses for being obliged to leave me so “ ab- rupt;’’ but explained that if the bell of the family with the fly were not answered on the instant, the house would not be big enough to hold them. Could not comprehend what was meant by the family with the fly.STU te ESE eR NIRS oA Fa wee v “a £ n CA RD ADRS aCe ert ent oR eae at 32 RESIDENCE IN Went into the coffee-room—not a creature in it. Looked out at the window—not a soul to be seen. Thought the town must be deserted. Rang the bell —enter waiter—white cotton stockings with three dark stripes above the heel of the shoe, indicating the number of days’ duty they had performed. Or- dered breakfast—coffee, eggs, and dry toast; observ- ing that if they were not aw fait at making coffee, 1 should prefer to take tea. Waiter, rather piqued, assured me that I was the first gentleman who had ever aid O fie! at their coffee, for that it gave general satisfaction. Strange! It has invariably been my misfortune to be the first to complain of any thing whaésoever, at any tavern, coffee-house, or hotel wheresoever. The slightest expression of discontent at your wine, your dinner, your accommodation—no matter what —is certain to be met with, “ Dear me, Sir! that’s very extraordinary! This is the very first time we have heard a complaint of ¢haé, I assure you.”’ Per- haps my case in this respect is not singular. Breakfast brought; poured out from a huge japan- ned-tin vessel, standing eighteen inches high, a nan- keen-coloured liquid. Rose forthe purpose of looking into the unfathomable machine—full to the brim! Made according to the most approved English coffee- house receipt—* to half an ounce of coflee adda quart- and-a half of water;”’ but as their coffee “ gave general satisfaction,’ I would not, by complaining, risk an appearance in so remarkable a minority as one. o * * 7% *% A hard egg is my mortal aversion,LITTLE PEDLINGTON. 33 ca * * CS * ‘You are the first gentleman that ever complain- ed of our over-boiling our eggs, I assure you, Sir,” said the waiter. «“ Do you take a London paper here?’’ ‘¢Of course, Sir, a house like our’s takes a Lon- don paper. We have the “ Morning Post’? up to last Saturday week, Sir, and shall have all Zas¢ week’s down by next week’s carrier. But I hope, Sir, you are in no hurry to see the papers?”’ “ And why so?” “ Because, Sir, the family with the fly has got them: and it would be as much as their custom is worth to ask for them till they are quite done with.”’ Before [ had time to ask for an explanation con- cerning the family so oddly distinguished, the land- lord, Mr. Scorewell, came hastily into the room, and angrily said to the waiter, “ Don’t you hear, Sir? The family-with-the-fly bell has rung twice.’? Away scampered the waiter as though he had been goaded on to his duty by the combined attack of every fly of every kind in Little Pedlington. Scorewell, with inconceivable rapidity, converted his angry frown into the sweetest innkeeper smile I ever witnessed; and ina tone indescribably bland, ac- companied by the matter-of-course bow, he welcom- ed me to “ Lippleton.’’ «Is this your first visit to our place, Sir?”’ I told him it was. « Then, Sir, I can only say that you have a great treat to come.”’ « Your town seems to me to be empty,” said I; i34 RESIDENCE IN “except yourself and your servants, I have not seen a human being.’ “ Quite the contrary, Sir—fullest season ever known.”’ “Then what is become of all the people?” “ Dear me, Sir! didn’t the waiter tell you? how very stupid of him! ’Tis his duty to tell visitors when any thing particular is going on inthe town. I dare say, Sir, you would have liked to go.” ‘What is it, and where?’’ I eagerly inquired. “ Why, Sir, every body is gone down to the mar- ket-place to hear Miss Cripps’s bag cried. Had the misfortune last night to lose her pea-green silk bag with a searlet ribbon and a sky-blue binding, con- taining two sovereigns, a silver thimble, a lump of orris-root, three shillings, a pot of lip-salve, a new flaxen front, two half-crowns, a new tooth, a paper of carmine, and eighteen sixpences. And would you believe it, Sir, though the crier has been three times round the town already, and has offered one- and-ninepence reward, there are no tidings of it, high or low! Miss C. declares that it isn’t the loss of the money she cares about; but she is anxious on account of the new tooth, the orris-root, the car- mine, lip-salve, and flaxen front—which belonged to a friend of hers.’ These latter words the landlord (checking bis vo- lubility) uttered with particular emphasis, accom- panied by a comically grave expression of counte- nance. “A thousand pities, Sir,’? continued Scorewell, “that you should have missed hearing the crier; theLITTLE PEDLINGTON. 35 more so, owing to the extraordinary coincidence of so anteresting a thing occurring the very first morn- ing of your being in Lippleton—when all the town, as I may say, is in a state of excitement about it.2? “Jam greatly annoyed at my loss,” said 1 but concerning Miss Cripps’s, I entertain no apprehen- sions; for if what I hear of your town’s-people be true—that they are as remarkable for their goodness and virtue, as your town is for its beauty. e “ You may say that, Sir; and, though I am a Pedlingtonian myself, this I will say, that for good- heartedness, and honour, and honesty—with never a grain of envy, hatred, or malice—and as for evil- speaking, why, bless you, Sir, we don’t know what the thing means. Ah! it is ézdeed a proud thing to be able to say, that in such a prodigious popula- tion as ours (for we count twenty-nine hundred and seventy-two, men, women, and children) there are only two rascals to be found.”’ “Then pray tell me who they are, in order that I may avoid them.”’ “Q, Sir, they are very well known: ‘one is that villain Stintum that keeps the Golden Lion; the other is that scoundrel Snargate of the Butterfly and Bullfinch. But I suppose, Sir, there must be a black sheep or two in every flock, or the world would not be the world. Foul-mouthed villains, too! Why, Sir, they never mention my name with- out—-—But I beg pardon, Sir—there’s the family- with-the-fly-bell—will be with you again in a min- ute.” Ere [ had ceased to wonder that a community so36 RESIDENCE IN near to perfection as that of Little Pedlington should not allow itself to be thus defiled, when it mightsbe- come immaculate by ejecting only two of its mem- bers, Scorewell returned. Not choosing to inquire directly what they meant by their family with the fly, I led to the question by asking Scorewell if his house was full. “‘ Why, Sir, I should have been full, if it hadn’t been for those villains who kidnaps, positively kid- naps, customers into theirhouses. Sending their cards about—under-charging so, that 2’ sure they can- and then, setting about a re- not get a living profit port that my chimneys smokes, d—n emo ind a man, Sir, that speaks ill of nobody, and wishes ill to no man; butas for them, the day I see their names in the Gazette (and it won’t be long first) will be the happiest day of my life. And then again, Sir, those boarding-houses! Full, indeed! Vl ask you, Sir, how zs one to be full, or how is an honest inn- keeper to get a livelihood with such opposition as that? Little Pedlington, Sir, would be a perfect Paradise if it warn’t for them boarding-houses; but they are the pest of the place. They ought to be annilliated. Government ought to interfere and put them down. When we send members to Par- liament (which we have as good a right to do as many other places), /’// give my vote and support to whomsoever will go in upon the independent in- terest, and bring in a bill to put down boarding-hou- ses. And yet, upon the whole, I can’t say they do me much harm, for real gentlefolks don’t go to them. Real gentlefolks don’t like to be prisn’d with stale iy vee Cee ee = Noe rer cya ga hag cine NCSI se shLITTLE PEDLINGTON. SF fish and bad meat. I know how much a-pound Mrs. Stintum of the Crescent boarding-house pays for her meat; and I know how Mrs. Starvum of South- street bargains for her fish and poultry. 1 don’t say it to their disparagement, poor devils! because peo- ple must live; and those who shell cheap must buy cheap—only, they ought to be a ditt/e more careful in cholera times. But go to my butcher, Sir, and ask him what kind of meat Scorewell of the Green Dragon buys—my son George, who is the most pre-eminent butcher in the market; and ask my other son, Tobias, who serves me with every mor- sel of fish and poultry that comes into this house, what prices Z pay for my commodities: 1’m not ashamed to have my larder looked into before the victuals is cooked. If, indeed, they would only live and let live, as I say—but two stingy, cheating, un- dermining, evil-speaking old tabbies like them, who cannot bear to see any body thrive but themselves— especially me! They are the only two nuisances in the place, and it would be better for every body if they were out of it. The world is big enough for us all, so there’s no need of envy and jealousy, and of trying to do one’s neighbour harm; that’s my maxim; and I wish that they, and those rascals at the Butterfly and Bullfinch, and the Golden Lion, would profit by it.” I took advantage of Scorewell’s taking breath to ask him who were the visitors he had in his house. « Why, Sir,” replied he, “I have not many, but they are all of the first respectability. There’s Mr. and Mrs. Fitzbobbin, Mr. St. Knitall and Azs lady, Mr, Fs eee bm tne a aoe Pe a38 RESIDENCE IN De Stewpan, Mr. Twistwireville, and Mr. Hobbs Hobbs and his family—very tip-top people, indeed, Sir—the family with the fly—they always honour us with their company—the fourth season they have been at my house—Mr. Hobbs Hobbs and his lady; their two daughters, Misses Eleonora and Floren- tina; Master William Hobbs Hobbs, the younger son, and Mr. Hobbs Hobbs Hobbs the elder—six altogether, sir, and always travel in their own one- horse. fly.?’ “So, the mystery of the “family with the fly’’ was explained. ‘“ Of course, Sir,’’ continued Scorewell, ‘¢ as you are from London you must know most of the parties —have heard of them, at any rate?”’ There was a touch of aristocracy—of gentility at the least—implied by the #%tzes and the Villes, and the imposing duplication of the Hobbs; yet I could not call to mind that 1 had ever heard any one of those names before. At this moment there was a again a violent ring- ing of bells. “‘ Nobody answering the family-with-the-fly bell !”’ exclaimed the landlord. “ Beg pardon for leaving you, Sir, but I must attend to it myself. You know, Sir, it behoves a person in my situation to be most particularly attentive and obliging to carriage company.”’ I felt something like a shock on learning that there were ¢wo rascals (the inn-keepers) in so virtu- ous a town as Little Pedlington; but when Score- well informed me that there were two ladies also inLITTLE PEDLINGTON. 39 the same unfortunate category—making an agere- gate of four bad characters—I was inclined to be- lieve that the reputation of the place for goodness, however it might deserve it for beauty, had been over-rated. And yet, thought I, compared with the mass of crime, villany, and roguery, of every description, that exists in London, and other great cities, four offenders in such “a prodigious popula- tion as twenty-nine hundred and seventy-two”? con- stitute no very alarming proportion of wickedness. The guide-book of Felix Hoppy, Esq., M. C., aided by the commentary of my landlady at Squashmire- gate, had determined me to think favourably of Lit- tle Pedlington, and I resolyed not to abandon my good opinion of it four four’s sake. As I rose from my seat, and struck my hands to- gether, as one does upon having made up one’s mind with one’s-self, Scorewell entered the room, and, with a low bow, handed me a visiting ticket; saying, “ With his very best compliments and most profound respects, he has the inexpressible honour and greatest possible felicity in welcoming you to Little Pedlington.” Heavens! what did I behold? It was from the illustrious M.C. himself! A card (somewhat larger than Hardy’s Great Moguls) beautifully glazed and richly embossed; having at the top an Apollo’s head; at the four corners, respectively, a lyre, a French horn, a fiddle and bow, and the Pandean pipes; these connected with the sides by truelover’s knots and roses placed alternately. In the midst of this vast combination of elegance and splendour there ap- We ee : a = ? : es wh: ; } . 3 ° . thing for us to he: prquayof;, ,7Pis’.taé same thing, too, in the old- busying-greund—_ange]s Qpsn earth, rest their souls? ; I wish, ihduglt, we-equid:say as much of the live ones: I could name a few of them, who, when they go, wont be quite so favourably mentioned. Stop—pardon one moment, whilst I * Having since been informed by an intelligent friend that this epitaph is to be found in two or three other places in England besides Little Pedlington, I suppress the remainder, 6vat DRS SU a Soe anh 9 aeons i Ra aa caper os area a Mee Pele OPS pce ae as nein! ri pee TS i eae Rh De lira teae h A nismenaaagallt IEP Be ge I aes ae 54 RESIDENCE IN leave my compliments of condolence over the way.”’ Left me for a few minutes. Took refuge in my own reflections. Not comfortable at hearing this slur upon some of the live Pedlingtonians. Felt certain misgivings as to whether this retired country-town were much more moral, or, in other respects, much better than “ populous cities proud.’’ Whilst I was waiting the return of Hobbleday, Mr. Shrubsole came up to me. “1 think, Sir,” said he, “ that was my friend Hob- bleday who just left you?”’ I told him it was. «J dare say you find him a charming companion. What a tongue he has! I wish, though, he did’nt sometimes make so ill a use of it. He is the most cen- sorious little wretch in the place; slanderous, mali- cious, malignant! Well; he may say what he pleases about me; thank my stars, he can say nothing to my disadvantage. Good mor Oh, when Hobble- day returns, pray tell him that my little woman and I have just seen the mew window-curtains, which, as we suspected, turn out to be nothing but the old ones dyed In tuxmerio, after. all. “But: th sat: old woman 7s the vainest; thé-most hesstful< in short the greatest liar in all Lattid-E Pedlingten.. Good‘morning, Sir.” In one. respect -[ oat hot sorry;to, learn that Mr. Hobbleday was of somewhat a censorious turn it gave me hope that some of the live Little-Ped- lingtonians might be better than his report of them. He returned. I delivered the message, but sup- pressed the opinion, ‘Took me all oyer the Vale of Health. Must admit that we have nothing at all likeLITTLE PEDLINGTON. 55 it in or near London—if, indeed, we except a cow field near Camden-town. Eighteen small houses, scattered about, chiefly occupied by invalids, who re- tire thither on account of the superior salubrity of the spot. At a very pretty cottage, called Hygeia Lodge, saw two mutes standing at thedoor. Taken to the extreme corner of the Vale. A man busy planting shrubs and young trees about a deep hole. Wondered what that was for. Informed by Hobble- day that Drs. Drench and Drainum (their celebrated physicians, and the proprietors of that portion of the ground) had had the good fortune to discover there a mineral spring of the nastiest water you ever put to your lips. “I’ve tasted it,’? continued Hob- bleday; “enough to poison a dog! It will be the making of the place, as they say; but what is to be- come of Cheltenham, Harrowgate, Tunbridge-Wells, and such places?p—however poor devils! that’s their affair.’? Fancied I smelt something like the detest- able odour of a tan-yard. Peeped through the win- dow of asmall shed, the door of which was fastened by a strong padlock. Saw a box of sulphur, a couple of bags of iron-filings, a pile of stale red-herrings, some raw hides cut info strips, and a quantity of bark such as the tanners use. Wondered what that was for. As Hobbleday wondered also, I was nothing the wiser for my inquiry. Went by the way of High Street; returned by the Crescent. Crescent worthy of all the praise be- stowed upon it by Felix Hoppy. Mr. H. regretted that the sun had “ gone in”’ so that the “ highly-po- lished brass knockers’’ did not shine half as muchas a 4 * met ‘ a 7 ¢ > ci ty 3 5 eon : a eRe eae é a in ~ “ y a e a ee c een MO Ni eis a _— ee eeeES acta ante eS reat eaet 3 Sea Spa: eR a = ile A AT LER SION RA RON nr seta cae iacemeisie saat Nagesa2 Ta ETSI : sie 56 RESIDENCE IN he had sometimes seen them. Beheld the house where “ dwelt the tuneful Jubb!” An odd feeling which I shall neither attempt to describe nor to ac- count for, comes over one upon these occasions. Contemplating the abode of genius! At this mo- ment perhaps the Bard of Pedlington isin a raptured trance. Walked down South Street. Hobbleday directed my attention to a board just underneath the first-floor window of No 18: it bore the words « Little-Ped- lington Universal Knowledge-Society;”? and these were surmounted by a Britannia (evidently copied from a penny-piece), with a trident in the left hand and a cockatoo held forth in the right. With a slight inclination of the head, accompanied by a complacent smile, he said, “ J—J, Sir, have the ho- nour of beinga member, conjointly with Rummins, Jubb, Hoppy, Daubson—in short, all the bigwigs of Little-Pedlington. We have meetings, converst- shonys—twice a week: a library, too:—Murray’s ‘Grammar,’ Entick’s ‘ Dictionary,’ Guthrie’s ‘ Ge- ography,’ and (besides other useful works) we have the ‘Penny Magazine,’ complete from—the—very —first.’’ “ But what is the meaning of that figure, Sir?’’ said I, pointing to the lady Britannia. ‘Ha! thought you’d notice that. That, Sir, is the work of our own Daubson: needn’t go out of Little-Pedlington for such things. The figure, I needn’t tell you, is Minerva— fitting emblem!’ as Hoppy says of the Dolphin’s tail for our pump- handle.”’ «¢ Minerva!—and with a cockatoo in her hand!”LITTLE PEDLINGTON. 57 “ Dear me! that’s very odd. You are almost the first person—a visitew, I mean—who ever noticed that. Of course, we know very well it ought in strictness, to.be an owl; but Daubson, who is the a7- bitratur elegantium of Little-Pedlington, thought that a cockatoo would be a prettier thing; and as we luckily happened to have one in our Zoo for him to paint from, why . I say, how naturally he has got the yellow tuft on the head, and the red spot on the neck! Clever creature! clevercreature! Shall we go at once to the skittle ground, and see his great work—the famous grenadier?”’ This I declined, pleading, as my excuse, fatigue and the intense heat, “ Well then,” said my obliging companion, “ to- morrow. You must allow me to call upon you to- morrow, and I’|] show you more of the beauties and curiosities of our place. No denial, now—no trou- ble tome. Neverso happy as when I am in the com- pany of an intelligent visiter’’—(here he bobwed)— “who can appreciate—you understand. Besides, from my position in society, I enjoy opportunities which For instance, Rummins’s public day for his Museum is Friday: now J, from my position as I said, am allowed the privilege of introducing a friend there any day in the week: for besides being a member of the Knowledge Society, and a life- governor of the Zoo, I have the honour, Sir, to be— ahem!—Chairman of the Little-Pedlington Savings Bank. Good morning; I wish you a very good morning. Ha! a rush at Yawkins’s library. 6*58 RESIDENCE IN Should’nt wonder if they have news of Miss Cripps’s bag.” Dying of heat and thirst. Inquired of a boy, who was carrying a band-box whether they had a confectioner’s in the place? “What!” said he, “a confectioner’s in such a place as Lippleton! Where do yow come from, | should like to know? We have two in our place— -Stintum’s over the way, and Mrs. Shanks’s, in Mar- ket Square. I say Bill’’—(this was addressed to an- other boy, who happened to pass)—“ here’s a gen- tleman wants to know if we hav’n’t never a confec- tioner’sin Lippleton. That’s a good oneisn’t it. To Stintum’s.—A confectioner’s! Gingerbread, raspberry-tarts, hard-biscuits, and three-cornered puffs on the counter; bottles of lolipops, sugar-candy, bull’s-eyes, and coloured sugar-plums on the win- dow-shelves;——a clear case of a Gunter adapted to the capacity of the rising generation. Mr. Stintum told me in answer to my request for an iced cream, that he had nothing to do with such nonsense, nor had his father before him; that he didn’t want to get himself into the gazette, by going out of his line, though a certain person in Market Square might. He didn’t care to make a fine show in his window: all he desired was to maintain his character as an honest tradesman. “J don’t want to speak ill of a neighbour,’”’ continued he: “every one must look after their own soul; I’ve done nothing in this world toforfeit mine. I can sleep at night, because I’ve nothing weighty upon my conscience; and if it were the last word I had to speak’’——-(What horridLITTLE PEDLINGTON. 59 crime can that unhappy Mrs. Shanks have committed thought I that should excite the fears even of arival pastrycook for her salvation?) —« if it were the last word I had to speak, I could safely say that I never put saét butter in my tarts. Went to the shop of Mrs. Shanks’ in Market Square; in all respects, except one, worthy of Little- Pedlington. Window decorated with an exquisite model, in barley-sugar, of the new pump in Market Square, and paste figures innumerable of Apollos and Venuses, shepherds and shepherdesses, &c. &c. Announcements in various parts of « Suppers pro- vided on the shortest notice,”’ “ Confectionary of all sorts,’’ “ Water ices and iced creams.”? Mrs. Shanks a skinny little woman, perched on a high chair be- hind the counter; yellow face; green patch over the right eye; curly flaxen wig, encircled by a wreath of faded artificial roses; pale blue silk dress; huge gilt neck-chainand bracelets; a jug before her with flowers in it. Reminded me of the once-celebrated divinity of the Café des Mille Colonnes in the Palais Royal. Lamentable to reflect that the soul contained in such a body should be in jeopardy, and all on account of a little salt butter smuggled into a tart. “What ice can I have, Mrs. Shanks?” «© Whatever you please, Sir.”’ ‘¢ Lemon-water, then.”’ “Mrs. Shanks opened a long, narrow book, in a parchment cover, dipped a pen into the ink, and in- quired, “ When for, Sir? and how much do you wish to have?”’ “‘ Now if you please; and one glass to begin with.” “Oh! we dont keep ices ready made, Sir; but we60 RESIDENCE IN can make you any quantity you please, not less than a quart, at only one day’s notice.”’ Assuredly Little-Pedlington possesses many ad- vantages; yet, oh! dear London. «Js there any other shop in the town where I may get some? [’m dying for it.” «No, Sir; ours is the only house in the line in all the place where respectable people can go. We dont make our pastry with mutton dripping; we don’t use red lead and copper to colour our sugar- plums; we never gave poor little Susan Gobbleton— the sweetest child in the world!—the colic it died of. But I’m certain that monster Stintum, Sir, can’t sleep in his bed; and that’s the comfort efit.” Little more than twelve hours, sleeping, and wak- ing, in this place—“ too good for us poor sinners to live in??—and have already heard of as much vice, immorality, and rougery, great and small, going on in it, as if it were a wicked large town; yet not the convenience of procuring an iced cream on a hot day (except indeed by ordering ita day before-hand) as a set-off against it all! Four o’clock. Went to Yawkins’s library. Sub- scribed for a month. Set my name down also in the M. C.’s book. Wished to know the present station of the —th dragoons, as I was desirous of writing by that night’s post, to a friend who was in it, and re- quested Mr. Yawkins to let me see the Army List. Fortunate in subscribing with him, for his was the only library in the place that had one. Produced the list for last November twelvemonth. Yaw- kins deserves his character for “ urbanity’’ (videLITTLE PEDLINGTON, 61 “ Guide’’), for he told me that if I particularly wished to see it, he would order a new one down, along with the magazines, next Tuesday week. Pur- chased Jubb’s “ Pedlingtonia,”’ price two shillings, and Rummins’s ¢* Antiquities of Little-Pedlington,” price one and six-pence. Yawkins assured me they were the two greatest works that had ever issued from the Little Pedlington press—-Hoppy’s “ Guide” scarcely excepted. Yawkins expressed some as- tonishment that neither_of those works had been noticed either in the “ Quarterly”? or the “ Edin- burgh.”? Thought such marked neglect of the two master-minds of the age a manifestation of a paltry- spirit. Quite superior to all such pettiness at Little- Pedlington. The Pedlington “ Weekly Observer”’ had spoken of Rogers and Moore, and Campbell, of Hallam, Lingard, and Sharon Turner, and such like; —aye, and with great kindness, too, notwithstand- ing. ‘I verily believe,’? he continued, “f verily believe there are but two men_in our town who would not have acted with equal generosity, and those are Snargate and Sniggerston, who keep an inferior sort of circulating libraries here: but they are notoriously, a couple of paltry fellows, and I have no hesitation in saying so!”’ ‘What! two more of them!” thought I. «And pray, Mr. Yawkins,is Mr. Rummins en- gaged upon any new work?” «A work which will produce a powerful sensa- tion, Sir; especially here in Little-Pedlington. Rummins is writing the ‘ Life and Times’ of his great contemporary Jubb.’aeibict ee Re sath shegmilee — 62 RESIDENCE IN “And Mr. Jubb?”’ “Jubb, Sir, is writing the ‘Life and Times’ of his illustrious townsman, Rummins. Rummins, you know, Sir, is an F. 8, A., so that the world will naturally look for a biography of hzm.’’ “ Would not the ‘ Table-Talk’ of such a man be interesting?”’ “ Why—aw—to speak candidly, I do not think that—to the generality of readers, at least—I don’t think it would; for, to say the truth, he—aw—never says anything at all. No, Sir; he is one of your thinking men, as you may gather from his writings. But Jubb, now—Jubb’s ‘Table-talk,’ indeed! But I have reason to believe Hoppy is engaged upon that work, and the very man for the purpose. I have lived in Little-Pedlington all my life, Sir, yet I give you my honour, sucha talker as Jubb £never met with. Wonderful, truly wonderful! I have heard him talk for three hours without stopping; and so profound, so amazingly profound is his con- versation, that one-half of what he says his hearers cannot understand, whilst he himself does not un-- derstand the other. Truly wonderful, indeed !’’ At this moment, a tall, thin, elderly lady, in deep mourning, entered the shop. One end of a long black ribbon she held in her hand, and to the other was fastened a fat, waddling, French poodle. ‘The lady was attended by a jaded-looking footman, in an orange-coloured coat, profusely ornamented with green worsted lace; he carried a large, wadded, black silk cloak, a shawl, a book, a bag of biscuits, a camp-chair, and a foot-stool.LITTLE PEDLINGTON 63 “Good morning, Mem,”’ said Yawkins, as the lady took a seat; «J hope you are a little better to- day?” “1 shall never again be the person I was,—at | in this world, Yawkins. the effects of it.’ east I shall never recover from “Tt wasa heavy blow,—a sad loss indeed, Mem. And that the monster who perpetrated the crime should have escaped undiscovered ! But justice will overtake him, sooner or later, take my word for it; Mem.” “ That will be a benefit to society, Yawkins, but no consolation to me. life.?? “ Poor lady!” thought I; “some rel friend, barbarously murdered !”? The lady continued. <« Is the first volume of the ‘Sad Story’ at home yet? a month ¢ down’ for it.’’ That won’t restore him to ation, or dear I have ‘been upwards of ‘©No, Mem; but as soon as it does come home you shall have it.” “ Remember that, now; for you know I read the two last volumes first, to oblige Miss Cripps, who was waiting for them.”’ “ Why, Mem, you know if subscribers didn’t ac- commodate each other in that way we shouldn’t get on atall. Talking of Miss Cripps, sorry to say that the report so general, about an hour ago, of her hay- ing recovered her bag, is not true.’’ “Poor Cripps! Vm very sorry for it,—not that I believe a word about the two sovereigns. Pray, Bi bre Oc ie ; ee We ae i a Pe Sg. Seppe Fe 3) SON64 RESIDENCE IN Yawkins, how does the raffle for the tea-tray and patent snuffers get onr’”’ « Why, Mem, you know the list hasn’t been up above a fortnight, and forty chances ata shilling a-piece take a long while to fill up. However, we are getting on: eighteen down already, and I have every reason to expect that Mrs. Hobbs Hobbs and Mrs. Fitz-bobbin—visiters from London—will each take two chances. They are considering about it.”’ « Well, Yawkins, it is but fair to tell you that, on Saturday, I tea’d with Mrs. Hobbleday in the Cres- cent; thefe was a large party; the whole evening we talked about little else but your raffle; and the general opinion was that you would have done much better with eighty at sixpence.”’ « How, Mem,” exclaimed Yawkins, with an air of offended dignity; “ much obliged to Mrs. Hobble- day and her party: a sixpenny raffle might do very well at such a place as Sniggerstone’s, or Snargate’s, but I should like to know what the company at Vawkins’s would say to such a thing, No, Mem;” —(here he turned his eyes up to the ceiling and placed his hand upon his heart)—* No, Mem ; rather than so compromise the respectability of my establishment, I would almost sooner return the eighteen shillings to the subscribers, and sell the tea-tray and snuffers at prime cost.’’ The lady, after feeding the fat poodle with a cou- ple of biscuits from the bag, withdrew—having first sent her unhappy servant forward with her com- mands that he would place her chair and foot-stool ready for her at the sunny corner of the Crescent.LITTLE PEDLINGTON. 65 ‘¢'That’s the Miss Tidmarsh you must have heard so much about in London, Sir,’”’ said Yawkins. “YT never heard the name till now,” replied I. “ But what is the nature of the calamity which has befallen her?’’ “Why, ¢hat is it, Sir. Dear me! it’s very ex- traordinary you should not have heard of it in Lon- don! Why, Sir, it set all Little-Pedlington in a ferment fora month. Except about that atrocious affair of stealing the pump-ladle—which of course you must have heard of—I never knew the town in a state of such tremendous excitement. She had a most beautiful French poodle, Sir—twice as fat as the one she has got with her now—such a quantity of hair, too, and as soft as silk! She was in this very shop with it, Sir, only the day before it hap- pened. Well,Sir, one morning she missed the dog about two hours afterwards the poor thing returned, but in whatastate! Conceive her horror—conceive the agonizing shock to her feelings! Some mon- ster, some fiend in human form, had cut all its hair off—got hold of Miss Tid Imarsh’s poodle and shaved it—shaved it, Sir, as smooth as the palm of your hand!’ “¢ Horrible, indeed!” I exclaimed; “and that an event of such ‘stirring interest’ in Little-Pedling- ton should remain unknown to us”? Adding, “ But strange as it may seem to you, Mr. Giswvlatiee it 13 my fixed belief that were a troop of monsters, a legion of fiends in human shape, to shave all the of dogs of every description that infest one- half iAaa ite. oe ane rae ri a ee wt * mae skeet <2 es ee SNe aR pete ee the bayonet tn front. 66 RESIDENCE IN London, the other half would probably never know any thing of the occurrence.”’ “Then blessed be Little-Pedlington!’’ replied Yawkins, “where every body is acquainted with every body else’s affairs, at least as well as with his own.”’ Yet half an hour to spare before dinner. Time enough, perhaps, to see Daubson’s grand picture—— thegrenadier. Inquired whereabouts was Yawkins’s skittle-ground. Informed that it was an immense way off—quite at the farther end of the town. Hopeless for to-day, thought I; but asked what the distance might be. ‘Told nearly four minutes’ walk. Went; stood before the “all-but-breathing Grena- dier,’’ as it is designated by Jubb. Hard to describe its first effect upon me. As I approached it, involun- tarily took off my hat. Thermometer 84° in the shade. Daubson certainly an original genius; unlike Reynolds, Lawrence, Phillips, or Pickersgill. Nei- ther did his work put me much in mind of Titian or Vandyke—not in the least of Rembrandt. No servile imitator—in fact, no imitator at all. Per- haps a military critic might object that the fixed bayonet is rather longer than the musket itself; be this as it may, owing to that contrivance it appears a most formidable weapon. In order that the whole of the arms and accoutrements may be seen by the spectator, the painter, with considerable address, has represented the cartridge-box and the scabbard of Scabbard about one-third the length of the bayonet —judicious—needless to exag-LITTLE PEDLINGTON. 67 gerate in this—nothing formidable in the appearance of a long scabbard, whatever may be thought of a long bayonet. Legs considerably thicker than the thighs—-grand idea of stability—characteristic of a “grenadier standing sentry.’’? Resolved to sit to Daubson. Five o'clock. Returned to “as nice a little din- ner as I could wish to sit down to.’? Such was I promised by minehost. Thermometer inveterately holding to 84°. Huge hot round of beef which filled the room with steam—hot suet dumplings and hard —hot carrots, each as big as the grenadier’s leg— scalding hot potatoes in their skins. Nice little dinner indeed—for the season! five minutes past five. Finished dinner and ordered some wine. Wine fiery as brandy, and warm; complained of it. Scorewell assured me it was the very same wine he was in the habit of sery- ing to the family with the fly, and that thew never complained of it. Indeed, neither the St. Knitails, nor the Fitz-bobbins, nor Mr. Twistwireville, nor even Mr. De Stewpan (who was remarkably particu- lar about his wine)—in short this was the first time his (Scorewell’s) wine had ever been complained of by mortal man. Such authorities it would have been downright insolence do oppose. Said no more, but simply ordered a little weak brandy and water. Scorewell undertook to “iry again.”? Whilst he was away, fancied I heard a pump-handle at work. Re- turned; wine, by no means so strong, and much cooler. ‘The first decanter chipt at the lip; so was6g MRS Fatah ss uaaarami tes rE i PSEA RS Par oar re gen BCE, EO REORER Spreaa cS: eae Og ESE 68 RESIDENCE IN this—odd coincidence. Inquired how the decanter came to be so wet outside? Scorewell replied, that he had just given it a minute in ice. That’s a rea- son, thought I. Whilst I was sipping my wine, and reading Jubb’s «“ Pedlingtonia’’—(found Rummins’s “ Antiquities”’ too learned, too profound, for after-dinner reading), Mr. Hobbleday came in. Merely looked in to see the time by the coffee-room clock. Recollecting his civilities to me in the morning, invited him to wine. Ordered a fresh bottle. “Know the sort of wine Mr. Hobbleday likes,’’ said Scorewell, as he quitted the room. “Good creature that Scorewell,’’? said Hobble- day, “and one of the best inns in Little-Pedling- ton"? «Then I am fortunate,’’ said I, “in having acci- dentally been brought to it. The other innkeepers are but moderately honest—at least, so Iam told by Scorewell; and for a stranger as I am to have fallen upon the only one who v «¢What I say, understand me, | say in confidence. Good creature—capital inn; but call your bill every morning—that is, if you should find it possz6le to stay at it for more than a day or two. Call it, I say, every morning—you understand. In the hur- ry of business people sometimes forget what you have not had, and down it goesintothe bill. After a week or so, you can’t tax your memory as to whether you had such or such a thing, or not; and, rather than dispute about it, why you————ahem!LITTLE PEDLINGTON. 69 Now, Scorewell, what have you done for us, eh? Is that some of Squire Dribble’s wine??? Score- well assured us that it was. “Squire Dribble! Isn’t that the gentleman who has a place in this part of the country—a collection of pictures—statues?”’ inquired I. “The same,” replied Hobbleday; “about a mile beyond Squashmire Gate. My most intimate friend. Pll give you a letter of introduction to him, which you’ll find very useful. Fine place, fine place! Squire himself as great a curiosity as any thing he has to show.?’’ Light o'clock. “No more wine,” said Hobble- day, “I must go. We have a meeting of our Uni- versal Knowledge Society. Never miss it. Al- though I have been a member upwards of two years, I am still in want of an immense deal of knowledge —you’d be astonished to hear how many things I am ignorant of! Some of our learned members say that I bore them to death with questions. Can’t help that, you know. No use to subscribe one’s money to a Knowledge Society, unless one is al- lowed to profit by it.’’ Icixpressed a desire to attend the meeting. “Take you with’ the greatest pleasure—not te night—’tis not my turn—any other night you choose.’ ae Reminded him of his promise to introduce me te Rummins, Jubb, and the rest of the great Little- Pedlingtonians. «¢ To-morrow IJ’]l introduce you to themall, Let. q*70 RESIDENCE IN me see—come and take a bachelor’s chop with me at five: I Daubson, soul,’ eh? come—five to-morrow, eh? twelve. "ll invite them to meet you—Hoppy and too—just we six— flow of reason, feast of If they are a// unengaged and can all Let you know by Good evening. Capital wine thiat.”? (To Scorewell, who just then entered the room)—*I say, Scorewell, if you should hear any thing positive about Miss Cripps’s bag, send word to me at the USN; S. Good evening.”’ “¢ What does he mean by the U.N.S., Mr. Score- well,”’? inquired I. “ Universal Knowledge Society, Sir. Pleasant gentleman, Mr. Hobbleday, Sir.”’ « And exceedingly civil to me,”’ said I. “Invited you to dine with him to-morrow, Sir. Ahem! bug i vhat Nice gentleman, Sir, but the greatest hum- ttle-Pedlington. He never gavea dinner to any body in his lhfe—a tea and turn-out now and then an zf tacked to it. and never once offered an invitation without He knows that to-morrow is Mr. Hoppy’s teaching day, so he can’t come: he knows that Mr. Jubb is engaged to dine with Mr. Rummins (for he heard Mr. R. order a bottle of Cape Madeira to-day for the purpose),so ¢hey can’t come.” This w there sho as “the most unkindest cut of all.’?? That uld be to be found in Little-Pedlington roguish innkeepers, disreputable librarians, poison- ing pastry-cooks, and pick-purses; the envious, the malicious, and naughty wives; nay, even purloiners of pump- and the scandal-monger; wicked husbandsLITTLE PEDLINGTON. 71 ladles, and shavers of pet poodles—little as I ex- pected to hear of all or any of these, I might, in the course of time, have reconciled myself to the cir- cumstance. Knowing them, I might avoid them. But that there should exist in this pre-eminently virtuous town one of that contemptible race so em phatically named by mine host—a race (as I had hitherto imagined) peculiar to London—! “As soon should I have expected,”’ I exclaimed, “to hear, that you have amongst you one of those uttermost miscreants who are at once the scorn of the honour- able profession which they disgrace, and the despis- ed of the society they infest—a pettifogging attor- ney !?” “Unhappily for us, Sir,’’ said Scorewell, “we have one. ‘To-morrow I’ll tell you some of the rogue’stricks. His name is————Beg pardon, Sir; I hear the family-with-the-fly bell.” Regretted that 1 didn’t hear his name. Resolved to inform myself of it to-morrow; and (together with the account of his tricks, with which Score- well is to favour me) to hitch it into my journal, that it may stand as a “ Beware’’ to all future visit- ers to Little-Pedlington. ° * : 3 Ten o’clock.—F inished reading “ Pedlingtonia.”’ Very Pope-ish, and the work of a Protestant minis- ter! Fatigued by the excitement of the day, anda busy morrow in store for me. Rang for chamber- maid. Mem. Inquire of Hoppy (when I shall have the honour and happiness of seeing him) who and what those #¥tzes and Villes really are. From a momentary glimpse I had of Hobbs Hobbs, Esq., ae — sor 4 n - a ey re ee a eer ae Sd f “ss . - = # “os Yc ea esre a Wisin ge aaa et ee een ae — ee Sco RAE a ara cad a PSR aR ase ecennes m Se = —— See ET ee ee — Sp ih OE a Nai" ene 14 RESIDENCE IN But, no; for though patience, like the eagle, which wings its airy flight through the boundless realms of ether, must descend at length to rest its weary wing, yet shall ours still soar upwards whilst, with the piercing eye of hope, we behold a ray of expecta- tion that our advice will not, like the sands of the desert, be eventually lost upon him. He may con- tinue to not notice us in any of his decrees or mani- festoes, and thus affect to be indifferent concerning what we say to him; but we have it on the best au- thority that he is frequently seen thoughtful and musing—not, indeed, in his moments of noisy revel- ry, when immersed in the vortex of pleasure, and surrounded by flatterers, who, like locusts, would bar our honest counsel from his ear, but in the noc- turnal solitude of his chamber. There it is that our warning voice, wafted on the wings of the viewless wind, pierces the perfumed precincts of the palace of Petersburgh, and carries conviction, like the roar- ing of the rushing cataract, into his mind. And if the ‘ Little Pedlington Observer’ does sometimes address the Autocrat in terms of more than usual se- verity, let him remember that we do so ‘more in friendship than in anger;’ that we regret the neces- sity we are under of giving him pain, but that, ‘like skilful surgeons, who’ ’”’ &c. &c. Decidedly I would not for the universe be the editor of the “ Little-Pedlington Observer.”? What an anxious life must he lead! Upon reading on I find he takes just the same trouble to manage the King of the French, the King of the Belgians, the Ixmpe- ror of China, &c., not one of whom (if I may judgeLITTLE PEDLINGTON. 75 from his complaints of their indifference to his coun- sel) seems to mind him a whit more than he of Rus- Sia.—Surely it must bea subject of ceaseless mortifi- cation to him, that notwithstanding the infinite pains he is at to settle, or to reform, the government of every country in the known world, his advice is so little, if at all, attended to. O ye monarchs, and ye ministers of monarchs! were I he, I would let you go to ruin your own way, nor raise a finger to save you. Under the head of Litrie PrEpuineTon, I find the following:— “ Yesterday, our peaceful town was -thrown into a state of excitement, which it far transcends our fee- ble powers to describe,by one of those events, which, fortunately, as they do no often happen, so they do not frequently occur. Late on Sunday evening it was whispered about in the best informed circles— though We were in possession of positive informa- tion of the fact as early as a quarter past nine—that our amiable and talented towns-woman, Miss Hono- ria Cripps, whose virtues are the theme of univer- sal admiration, and whose numerous fugitive little offspring are the chief ornaments of our Foundling Hospital, which this day is again enriched with one of her charming effusions, had had the misfortune to lose her silk bag, containing many articles of no use to any one but the owner; and, ‘though last not least,’ as Shakspeare hath it, a sum amounting nearly to three pounds. But whatever doubts might have existed in certain quarters as to the correctness of the report on Sunday night, the truth was placed ~EEE RELA "ptr see Ma LY reper AR LEE 76 RESIDENCE IN beyond the remotest shadow of dispute yesterday morning, at eight o’clock, by a circumstance which, we will venture to say, must have convinced the most incredulous: the bag was cried about the town by the indefatigable Coggleshaw, whose accuracy in describing its contents was the theme of general ap- probation—though we must say that we object to his holding, at least in these times, the office of crier and of sexton also; especially if, as it is rumoured, any addition is to be made to his fees in the latter capacity, more particularly when a person, whom we can conscientiously recommend as fit for the em- ployment, ig willing to undertake it upon the exist- ing terms.—But, for more upon this subject, we refer our readers to an admirable letter, signed ¢ An Anti Pluralityarian,’ in another part “of this day’s paper, which, by a strange coincidence, recommends the very person we have alluded to; which express- es also the identical opinions we entertain on the subject: and must, therefore, carry conviction. to every unprejudiced and reflecting mind. «The appeal of the crier was not attended with that success every honourable and feeling mind desired. At twelve o’clock again was the same experiment repeated, but, alas! with the same much-to-be-la- mented result. From that time till a late hour in the evening, groups of anxious enquirers might be seen in Market-square, in the Crescent, and at the public libraries, their countenances expressive of the deepest interest in the event. Judge, then, what must have been the feelings of the amiable lady her- self! However, last night, at five minutes beforeSL a I TR aa RN de RE NR tc Ke, LITTLE PEDLINGTON. Tt twelve, the bag was clandestinely dropped down Miss Cripps’s area, when it was discovered that the lip-salve, the tooth, the false front, the carmine, in short, that every thing was restored to her, except— and we must add, to the everlasting disgrace of our town—except the money! But, indignant as we are at this act, we cannot, in the present excited state of our feelings, venture any remarks upon it; we shall, therefore reserve them as the subject for the leading article in our next, when, as impartial journalists, we shall be happy to publish any letters we may re- ceive, free of postage, either for or againsé, an as- sertion we have heard in more quarters than one,— viz: that the money in the bag at the time it was lost did not amount to any thing like the sum stated by the fuir lady herself. ‘Till then, as in fairness bound, we shall offer no opinion upon the subject.”’ The following extracts are from the miscellaneous department: — “On Thursday last this town was visited by a terrific hail-storm. Several of the stones were picked up of a size truly tremendous. The devas- tation it occasioned was awful. At Mrs. Stintum’s boarding-house five panes of glass were broken; four at Yawkins’s library; a like number at Mrs. Hobbleday’s in the Crescent, who had the misfortune also, to have the top of a cucumber-frame /?ferally smashed to pieces! But the greatest sufferer by the calamity is Mr. Snargate, the builder, twenty- nine panes of whose green-house are entirely des- 8ti Pade Severe ne SS ae ee ISON: 2 A 78 RESIDENCE IN troyed, and fourteen others more or less injured. Many persons have visited the scene of destruction. Such is the irresistible power of the elements!”’ “In a litter of pigs which we have lately seen at Mrs. Sniggerston’s the keeper of the baths, there are actually two without tails! Such are the extra- ordinary freaks of Nature!’’ «“ The last meeting of the ¢ Little Pedlington Uni- versal-Knowledge Society’ was most particularly interesting. Our celebrated poet, Jubb, read a por- tion of his forthcoming ‘Life and Times of Rum- mins,’ our well known antiquary; and Rummins favoured the members by reading a portion of his forthcoming ‘ Life and Times of Jubb.?- Our eminent painter, Daubson, exhibited a very curious drawing which he has lately completed. It is a profile in black, which, looked at one way, represents a man’s head in-a cocked hat, and with a large bow to his cravat; and when turned topsy-turvy, shows the face of an old woman ina mob-cap! Who shall presume to set bounds to the ingenuity of art! But by far the most interesting was, what was stated by our learned antiquary, Mr. Rummins, to be a helmet of the time of King John. It was dug from the ruins of an old house lately pulled down in North street and is now the property of Mr. Rummins himself. It is corroded by the rust of ages; and except that it has no handle, is in form not unlike a saucepan of our own days. Mr. R. read a learned memoir which he has drawn up upon the subject, and which toge-LITTLE PEDLINGTON. 719 ther with a drawing he intends to forward to the Society of Antiquaries,) wherein he states that, when he was in London, and saw the play of ‘King John’ acted, the principal actors wore helmets of precisely that shape. Its authenticity is thus proved beyond all manner of doubt. But, upon these points, who shall presume to question the judgment of a Rum- mins? “The presentations to the library, and for the sole use of the members, were Goldsmith’s ‘History of England,’ abridged for the use of schools, and Tooke’s ‘Pantheon,’ (an account of a/Z the heathen gods and goddesses, with newmerous cuts,) both the gift of our munificent townsman, Mr. Yawkins, the banker.”’ “To the lovers of Champagne wecannot too strong- ly recommend that admirable substitute, the goose- berry-wine made and sold by Hubkins, the grocer, in Market-square. We speak from our own know- ledge, as he has obligingly sent us six bottles as a sample. We can say nothing of his other home- made wines which he mentions to us, as we cannot, with a conscientious regard to our duty as impartial journalists, venture an opinion which we do not possess the means of verifying by a trial. or This from the “Notice to Correspondents.’ ee “The letter from a certain oilman in East-street, requesting us to give a favourable opinion of his pic- kles, anchovy paste, &c., must be paid for as an ad- vertisement. We cannot compromise our indepen-ar RRR PA (De Rae OE ret ee, a . Se ; Pa io FER pe MELEE: Scnaceaeee aoe a rn GA RS PO I gdh FO i> Get RO IT a OS 80 RESIDENCE IN dence by praising what we have not even had an opportunity of tasting.’ ‘Tur THEATRE.—We are at length enabled to state that Mr. Sniggerston (in consequence of the present amount of the subscription towards building anew theatre not being sufficient to warrant the undertaking), having again kindly consented to grant the use of one of his commodious out-houses, though at what seems to us to be a rather exorbitant rent, our liberal and spirited manager, Mr. Strut, from Dunstable, will positively open his campaign on the 15th of next month, though, in our opinion, it would answer his purpose much better did he delay the opening till the 18th. The preparations are on the most extensive scale; and a new drop-scene (of which we have been favoured with a private view) has been painted by our unrivalled Daubson. The subject is a view of the new pump, in Market square, as seen from South-street; though it seems to us the painter would have done better had he represented it as seen from North street, not but that we think South street a very favourable point for viewing it; and no man has greater taste in these matters than Daubson, when he chooses to exercise it. The manager has done well in engagnig all our old favourites, the most prominent of whom are ‘the facetious Tippleton, the heartrending Snoxell, and the versatile and incomparable Mrs. Biggleswade,’ as they are aptly characterized by our tasteful master of the ceremonies in his ‘Guide Book;’ but why has he not also engaged Mrs. Croaks, the celebrated vocalist,LITTLE PEDLINGTON. 81 who we understand is unemployed? This he must do. Yet if,as weare told, she requires twice as much as has ever been paid to any other performer for do- ing only half the usual work, we must say that Strut is right in resisting such a demand; though we ad- mit that talent like hers cannot be too highly remu- nerated, and are of opinion that she is perfectly justi- fied in making her own terms. Nevertheless, we recommend her to follow the example of moderation set by the three eminent performers we have named, they having liberally consented to take each a fourth of the clear receipts, allowing the remaining fourth to be divided amongst the rest of the company in any way the manager may think proper, after deduct- ing one third of that for himself. Tippleton, with his usual disinterested zeal for the good of the con- cern has consented to play any part_whatever which may be likely to conduce to that end, provided,in the first place, it be a good part in itself; secondly that it be the only good part in the piece; and lastly, that the part be, in every possible respect, to his own entire and perfect satisfaction. The only par- ticular stipulations he has made are that no person shall have a clear benefit but himself; that no per- son shall be allowed to write as many orders, nightly, as himself; that no person shall have their name printed in the play-bills in large letters but himself; and that he shall not at any time be expect- ed to doany thing to serve any body—but himself, With such spirited exertions on the part of the man- agement, and such liberality and zealous cO-opera- tion on that of the performers, the concern mustnorm 82 RESIDENCE IN succeed: though we would recommend the manager not to act so much himself as he did last season; though we admit that his assistance is usually indis- pensable. However, as far as we are concerned, Strut may rely on having our support, for, indeed, he deserves it; not that we altogether approve of the arrangements he has made, which, in our opin- ion, are in many respects faulty in the extreme; nevertheless, he is an enterprizing manager, and ought to be patronized by the Little-Pedlingtonians; not that we should recommend them to go into a hot theatre to see plays sometimes, to say the truth, indifferently acted—nor indeed can he expect that they should.” Admired the profoundness of the critic’s reflec- tions, the extent’ and minuteness of his information, the wisdom of his advice, and, above all, his beauti- ful consistency. Fancied 1 had somewhere occa- sionally read something ina similar style—could not recollect where. These from the “Foundling Hospital for the Muses.’’ ‘© Ty Doctors Drench and Drainum, on ther grand Discovery of a Mineral Spring inthe Vale of Health. «¢Galen and Esculapius men may praise, (Apothecaries great in by-gone days;) But you, my friends, O, Drainum, and O, Drench! At once the flambeaus of their merit quench. They no chalybeate for our use er found On Pedlingtonia’s health-restoring ground: That task the gods, to Pedlingtonia true, Reserved, my Drainum and my Drench, for you! So shall your names for aye their names outshine,LITTLE PEDLINGTON. 83 Immortal in the poet’s deathless line! That task, thrice-honour’d Jubb, that happy task be thins *¢ JONATHAN Juss.” ** Charade. A member of the feather’d race, With half a certain well-known place, If rightly you do guess, I ween, You’ll name the pretty thing I mean. ** Einas SBBURCS.” «* * We areobligedto our valuable correspondent, Philo Ses, for the answer to the Charade in our last, which is skittles. Perhaps he will fa- vour us by exercising his ingenuity on the above.— Ep. «* * The following charming, pathetic little gem, composed several days ago, assumes a most peculiar feature of melancholy interest, when we consider the present distressing state of mind laboured under by the fair poetess, the full particulars of the loss of whose reticule (containing—besides a large sum in money of her own— a lump of orris root, a pot of lip salve, a new flaxen front, a new false tooth, and a paper of carmine, belonging to a friend of hers) we have given in another part of our this day’s paper.—Ep. «©, gentle Strephon, cease to woo! O, spare poor Chloe’s virgin heart! O, tempt me not! but cease to sue;— In pity spare me, and depart. O, do not praise the roseate blush On Chloe’s grief-worn cheek display’d!el i APN retetcrsrs or ened aa ~ See tt a "ed EES RR OSE ato SS ane SEIT MT os RESIDENCE IN Alas! ’tis buta hectic flush, Which soon, too soon, in death must fade. O, speak not of the teeth that shine Like pearls, ’twixt lips like cherries twain, Tinted with Nature’s pure carmine;— Alas! fond youth, ’tis all in vain. Nor praise no more the balmy breath Thou dost to orris sweet cumpare, When soon the icy arms of death In the cold grave those sweets must share. Urge not thy suit, but fly me now, Fond youth! nor praise those locks of flax Thou say’st adorn my ivory brow— Leave me to die—’tis all I ax. ‘¢ Honoria.”’ A punctilious critic would perhaps raise an objec- tion to the “locks of flax,’’ and (with greater show of right on his side) to the concluding word of Miss Cripps’s “charming little gem.”? But surely this would not be the case witha candid reader, inclined (as I own Talways am) to be pleased. By the for- mer, it is clear the Sappho of Little-Pedlington means Jiaxen locks, whatever may be the exact import of the words she uses; and with respect to the other point, it is to be defended on the plea of necessity. “ Any port in a storm,” says the sailor: and, driven by stress of rhyme, I think the lady is fortunate in not having been forced into a less commodious haven; for the most fastidious ear must be satisfied with the rhyme, which is perfect; whilst the only objection that can be made to the word az (as a word), is thatLITTLE PEDLINGTON. 85 the Exclusives, the Almacks of the Dictionary,refuse to acknowledge it as a member of their super-refined Society. But I fear I entertain a dislike of the gene- ral tone of the poem, exquisite as it is in detail. Why need the lady be so confoundedly—I cannot help swearing at it—so confoundedly dismal? Why should she everlastingly (as I perceive by a former number of the ‘Foundling Hospital’) be tampering with such disagreeable matters as “‘ death”? and “ the grave,’ and the “ canker-worm,” and “ the blighted hope,”’ “the withered heart,’ “the seared soul,’’ and a thousand other such uncomfortable fancies? If her woes be real, most sincerely do I pity the poor lady, and the sooner her gloomy aspirations after death and the grave are gratified, the better it will be for her; if feigned, I shall say no more than that I wish that, for the pleasure of the readers of the “ Little-Pedlington Observer,”’ she would exer- cise her imagination upon subjects of a more agree- able character. Iam aware | may be told that Miss Cripps is par excellence, the “ Songstress of Woe;” that she “strings her lyre with tears;’? and that much also will be said about “ finer sensibilities,”’ “poetical temperament,” “flow of feeling,’ and ‘‘ out-pourings of soul.’? Fiddle-de-dee! the mere commonplace twaddle of criticism. Could the per- formances on this tear-strung lyre be restricted to the hand of Miss Cripps alone, the inventress of the instrument, and its mistress also, I should not so much object to an occasional movement doloroso; but her genius (as it is evinced in the effusion which has occasioned these passing remarks) might unhap- erare EE TE as Nien ak Dla oli aie in io a ay . ac aie ee SIR 86 RESIDENCE IN pily beget a brood of imitators, who, like imitators in general, would select only the worser qualities of their model; and then we should have every young lady in Little-Pedlington whimpering about “blight- ed hopes,’’ at fourteen: at fifteen invoking death, and sighing for the quiet of the cold, cold grave; and at sixteen, running off with a tall footman, or a ha- berdasher’s mustachio’d “ assistant.’ Rather than that these things should occur, I would suggest— since extremes provoke extremes—an Act of Parlia- ~ ment to prohibit lady-poets from meddling with any other subjects than silver moons, radiant rainbows, blushing roses, modest violets, and the like; and to re- strict them, in their gloomiest moods, to illustra- tions—of which the most sad and dismal should be— a cloudy night in summer. Amongst the advertisements, the following is the most prominent. My attention was first caught by that portion which is printed in eapital letters, and which I read independently of the context in humbler type. “ Magnificent property, indeed!”? thought I. As I have never met with any thing of the kind at all comparable with it, 1 think it worth extract- ing:— CHATSWORTH AND BLENHEIM Are not likely either speedily or soon to be brought to the ham- mer, but a most desirable Freehold Property in the Vale of Health WILL BE SOLD BY AUCTION, On the premises, on Monday next, at twelve o’clock precisely. BY MR. FUDGEFIELD. It seldom falls to the fortunate lot of an auctioneer to have toLITTLE PEDLINGTON. 87 offer to the public a property to describe which puts to the utmost stretch of extension the most sublime and inexhaustible powers of description for to describe; and which, to convey an idea of suf ficiently adec quately, would be required to be described by the un- equalled and not to be paralleled descriptive powers of a LORD BYRON. What then must be the feelings of Mr. occasion, when he has to offer for sale that most desirable resi- dence, situate in the Vale of He: appropriate as it is befitting deserved, Fudgefield on the present alth, and known by a name as , and well merited as it is most richly PARADISE-HOUSE! The particulars of this most desirable and charming residence, which may truly be called A PERFECT RUS IN URBE A LITTLE WAY OUT OF TOWN, will in the course of this advertisement be stated fully and at length ; and which Mr. Fudgefield owes itas a duty to his employ- ers to state as circumstantially as he wonld if it we MAGNIFICENT MANSI¢ IN, FIT FOR THE RESIDENCE OF A NOBLEMAN’S FAMILY. Being near the town and in its immediate vicinity, Ww rea here every thing that Nature’s multitudinous desires can wish for can be ob- tained when wanted, it is not necessary, and scarcely requisite, that it should BOAST OF THREE DOUBLE COACH-HOUSES AND ACCOMMODATION FOR TWENTY HORSES: nor indeed should it be expected, when the town can boast of two confectioners, that it should possess a WELL-CONSTRUCTED ICE-HOUSE. It is also the opinion of many persons that, as it occasions great expense, outlay, and disbursement, to maintain and keep up ONE OF THE FINEST PINERIES IN THE KINGDOM, NUMEROUS GREEN-HOUSES AND CONSERVATORIES, A WELL-STOCKED FISH-POND, AND AN AVIARY WORTHY THE ATTENTION OF ALL EUROPE, none but such as those whose fortunes are equal, and whose means are adequate to, such— — 2p A Ba ge ea APPR ecteee TO i } aq laa i i b Ue : Lil) aa i ia | is | K a it ayy it OW | HE arals 88 RESIDENDE IN AND OTHER LUXURIES, ought to encumber themselves with them. From this rule is not to be excepted A CHOICE COLLECTION OF RARE BOOKS, ALL IN COSTLY BINDINGS, when from any of the circulating libraries in the town any book to convey pleasure to the understanding, instruction to the-imag}- nation, or information to the intellect, may be obtained at the cost of a moderate and not unreasonable subscription. The same ob- servations would apply to A SMALL BUT TRULY SELECT SELECTION OF CHINA, FROM THE FAR-FAMED AND WELL KNOWN MANUFACTO- RIES OF SEVRES AND DRESDEN ; And one of the MOST SPLENDID COLLECTIONS OF PICTURES, BY THE OLD MASTERS, EVER BROUGHT TO THE HAMMER: Including several by RAPHAEL ANGELO, LUNARDI DE VINSY, PAUL VERYUNEASY, THE THREE STORACES, VANDYKI, RUBINI, PAUL POTTERER, SEBASTION PLUMPO, JULIET ROMANO, TITAN, JERRY DOW, GEORGE ONY, OLD PALMER, DON MYCHINO, AND OTHER SPANISH ENGLISH, AND ITALIAN, ANCIENT OLD MASTERS. For the reasons as above adduced, and as Mr. Strut’s unrivalled company are shortly to exhibit their well-known talents in a thea- tre of their own, a SMALL BUT ELEGANT PRIVATE THEATRE would be supererogatory and superfluous; as also considering the CHARMING DRIVES AND RURAL PROMENADES, Reminding the enchanted eye of the enraptured beholder of the ELYSIAN FIELDS, which are to be enjoyed at every turn in the neighbourhood of Little Pedlington, an EXTENSIVE PARK AND PLEASURE GROUNDS would hardly compensate the Purchaser for the immense cost which he must be at for planting and laying out perhaps as many as wouldoe eget LITTLE PEDLINGTON. COMPRISE 10,000 ACRES!!! It is only necessary further to add that PARADISE HOUSE consists -of four rooms, small but commodious: with vash-house and most convenient kitchen, detached; witha garden of a quarter of an acre in extent, more or less; from which (should honour the Vale of Health with a visit) the fortunate purchaser of this most desirable Property would be enabled most distinctly to see the they ever KING AND ALL THE ROYAL FAMILY. But Mr. Hobbleday is announced (« the humbug in all Little-Pedlington;’? as he was de scribed to me by Scorewell); so down with my newspaper. AsIam to dine with him to-day. in order to meet some of the worthies of the place, trust that I shall return home in the evening full of interesting matter for the continuation of my Jour- J nal.RESIDENCE IN CHAPTER III. ‘Mine own romantic town.”’—Scoit. Tuesday, June 16th. “Mr. Hobbleday wishes to.see you, Sir. Bill of fare, Sir. What would you choose to have for dinner, Sir ?” “It is probable, Mr, Scorewell,’”’ replied 1, “I shall not dine at home. You may remember Mr. Hobbleday invited me to dine with him to-day.” “Yes, Sir, with an 7f Sir. That’s why I ask you what you would please to order, Sir. Mr. Hobbleday, as I said last night, Sir, is a nice gen- tleman, but the greatest humbug in Little-Pedling- ton. And then, Sir, if I might make free to tell you, Sir, don’t say any thing to him you would wish to keep secret, Sir.”’ <¢T never do, landlord, to any body,” said I. “What I mean is this, Sir: he is very intimate with Mr. Simcox Rummins, Junior, Sir, the editor of our newspaper, Sir; and people suspect that whatever he hears he —But here he is, Sir.’ Mr. Hobbleday entered the room—stopped short in the middle—thrust his hands into his pockets— looked at the clock—then at me—smiled with an air of self-satisfaction—again looked at the clock,Se a na tas ee a an an dD LITTLE PEDLINGTON. 91 when then (to borrow a Miltonie form of phrase), “ when then thus Hobbleday:’?— “ Do yon see that? Told you I would be here at twelve, and twelve it is to a minute. That’s what I call punctuality. Pride myself on being punctu- al. ‘T'o be sure it is no great merit in me to be so —nothing else to do—no business, no occupation— gentleman at large, as I may say—a hundred-and- ten pounds a-year, independent. And yet it is something to be proud of, nevertheless, eh? But I’m afraid I interrupt you—you were reading the paper. Now no ceremony with me—if I do inter- rupt you, say so. Never bore any body, if I know it—hate to be bored myself. Butsome people have no tact. Ahem! No man is better acquainted with his own faults than 1 am with mine—sorry to say that I have many; but this I may safely say for myself, whatever else I may be, I am any thing but a bore. But all owing to tact, eh? Can’t endure a 33 bore; and now, if I do interrupt you Assured him he did not—reminded him that I was prepared for his visit, and requested he would take a seat. Seated himself opposite to me—placed his straw hat upon the table—unbuttoned his nan- keen jacket, and deliberately took off his gloves. Seemed—like rain, when one least desires it—regu- larly set in for the day. «Sure, now, you have finished reading your newspaper? Resemble me in one respect, I dare say. Reading a newspaper isall very well, but pre- fer conversation, eh? Well, then, won’t apologise for the interruption. Nothing equal to pleasantSS a T= See at acer ToS tae es es AB ingens: a a RS ia RAI ee ers t Pee 92 RESIDENCE IN conversation; for my part, 1 may almost say I live upon it! Ahem? Breakfast not removed—you break- fast late, eh? Now I breakfast at erght in summer, at nine in winter; and, what is very remarkable, have done so as long as I can remember. Now I’II tell you what my breakfast consists of.”’ Obligingly communicated to me the fact, that he took three slices of thick bread-and-butter, one egg, and two cups of tea; adding to the interest of the information, by a minute detail of the price he paid for the several commodities, the quantities of tea and sugar he used, the time he allowed his egg to boil, and his tea to draw; and also, by a particular description of the form and size af his teapot. Though early in the day, experienced a sensation of drowsiness, for which (having slept well at night) I could not account. ‘Dear me!’? exclaimed Hobbleday, as the clock struck; ‘‘one o’clock, I declare! How. time flies when one is engaged in pleasant conversation! But perhaps I’m boring you, eh? If I am, say so, Ahem! By-the-bye a sad disappointment—never so put out by any thing in my life. Had made up my mind to one of the pleasantest afternoons imagi- nable. But Jubb can’t come—engaged to dine with Rummins. No matter—we musi arrange for some other day. I won’t let you off; so, let me see —or, no—fix your own day—now, come; fix aday you must. But don’t say to-morrow—to-morrow is Hoppy’s day for his public breakfast at the skit- tle-ground; and on Thursday I’m engaged at a routLITTLE PEDLINGTON. 93 at Mrs. Applegarth’s, who shows off her new draw- ing-room curtains—sad ostentation!”’ “ Well, then,” said I, “on Friday if you please. ”’ “That’s Rummins’s day for showing his museum; and on Saturday I fea with Miss Shrubsole. Can’t say, though, that her parties are at all in my way.” Here he shook his arm, and, with a grave look, con- tinued. “ You understand;—tremendous play! Like a quiet, old fashioned rubber very well;—have no objection even to a round game, in moderation; but when it comes to three-penny shorts, and when, at loo, the lady of the house is so fortunate as to turn up pam almost every time she deals to the point. Sunday, of course, is out of the ques- tion;—and 8 ahem! But, a “And on Monday, at the latest, | must return to town.”’ «“ No, no, I can’t consent to that: I must not be deprived of the pleasure of introducing you to my eminent friends. Do you positively leave us on Monday?’’ “ Positively; business of importance which will a2 require my presence «“ No—won’t listen to such a thing; for on 7Z'wes- day 1 shall consider you as engaged to dine with me;—a week’s notice to my eminent friends will secure their company.” ‘¢ Your politeness and hospitality,” said I, “ de- serve a suitable return on my part. Since you are so pressing in your invitation, it would be ungra- cious in me to refuse it; so I will write to town by g*94 RESIDENCE IN this night’s post, and, even at the risk of some in Hi. convenience, will remain here tiil «¢ Ahem!—aha!—Never so flattered by any thing in all my life; but no—won’t listen to it—wouldn’t put you to inconvenience for all the world;—say no more about it; never mind my disappointment; we shall see you in Little-Pedlington again. Sadly dis- appointed, indeed; but don’t you let that interfere with your arrangements. Come, will you take a turn’? Scorewell, who had just before come into the room, and heard the concluding part of the conversation, again presented his bill of fare, with—*“ Bul of fare, Sir. Mow what would you choose to have for din- ner, Sir?’’? Puzzled to guess what he intended by his emphasis upon the “ now;’’ neither could [ un- derstand what he meant by the odd twinkle of the eye with which he accompanied his question. Whilst I was doubting over Scorewell’s bill of fare, Hobbleday amused himself by breathing upon one of the window-panes, and making marks there- on with his fore-finger. ‘Draw?’’ said he, in an inquiring tone. Told him I did. «Pretty accomplishment. I’ve taste that way myself. Play the flute?’ Told him I did not. «Pity: you’d find it a great comfort. Besides— gets one into the best society—at least I find it so in Little-Pedlington. - For instance, now, there’s Yawkins, the eminent banker—-hates me, yet invites me to all his music-parties. You’d think that oddLITTLE PEDLINGTON. 95 perhaps—not in the least. Why? Because he can’t do without me. His daughter is a very fine per- former on the piano-forte, I admit—first-rate—no more taste, though, thana bag-piper; yet what would be the ‘ Battle of Prague,’ or the overture to ¢ Lo- doiska,’ without little Jack Hobbleday’s flute-accom- paniment? Ahem! malicious little creature that daughter of his. Never stops for you when she finds you sticking ata difficult passage, but rattles on, and finishes five minutes before you, merely to show her own skill. [had my revenge, though, the other evening. Caught her at fault—ha! ha! ha!—my turn now, thought I; so on I went; and hang me if I didn’t come to my last tootle-tootle-too, while she had still nearly a whole page to play. ‘Tit for tat, eh?”’ ‘“ But what cause can Mr. Yawkins have for hat- ing you, as you say, Mr. Hobbleday?” “TI did him a service, my dear Sir; and, with some people, that is cause sufficient. You must know that—ahem! You don’t want Scorewell, eh? Scorewell you may leave the room. ‘That is the most impertinent, prying rascal in all Little-Ped- lington. He pretends to be busied in dusting the wine-glasses and decanters on the side-board, when, in fact, he is listening to your conversation. What- ever he hears he reports to our newspaper; and for that he receives Ais paper gratis. Between our- selves, he is not the only one in this place I could mention who does the same thing.’ «¢ Are these rivals in the same trade?”’ thought I, ‘or which of them is it that belies the other? Oh! scab ‘ ese ae z y eo en SG et I vi cet can A Pee ss ot 4 poms wae OR Ce - peewee F uorRic EI a b 96 RESIDENCE IN Little-Pedlington! Ah! Little-Pedlington! if these be thy doings Yet, no Scorewell shall upon Hobbleday’s testimony, be written down a publican of moderate honesty; Hobbleday, upon the word of Scorewell, shall stand recorded what eye, methought, had never seen, what tongue had never named, in this all-perfect place—a humbug; but that either of them, or that any other Little-Pedlingtonian, should be suspected of. No, no, no;. they are labour- ing under some strange delusion, and know not what they say. This, for mine own happiness, I must and will believe.’’ Hobbleday resumed :— But respecting Yawkins. You remember the panic a few years ago, which, as Jubb describes it, ‘ Like roaring torrent overwhelm- ed the Banks!’ Up at six in the morning,‘ my custom(as Shakspeare aptly says) my custom always in the afternoon.’ I was the first in Little Pedling- ton to hear of the great crash. Saw a traveller just ar- rived from London—long before the post came iIn— told me of ¢his bank going in consequence of a run upon it, and of ¢hat bank going in consequence of arun upon it. Thought of my friends Yawkins, Snargate, and Co. No fear, though, for such a firm as that—sound as a roach, at bottom. Yet preven- tion is better than cure, thought I; for if the Little- Pedlington bank showld go, the credit of the world’s atan end. Well, Sir, what does little Jack Hobble- day do? Jl tell youwhat he does. He runs to his friend Shrubsole, and knocks him up two hours earlier than his usual time. ‘Shrubsole,’ says I, don’t be alarmed; there’s a tremendous run upon theLITTLE PEDLINGTON. 97 banks all over England; the consequence is they are smashing like glass. I know you have cash at Yawkins’s, but, be calm, anddon’t pressupon them, and your money will be safe. But should there be a run upon them to-day they must be ruined. You know my friendship for old Yawkins in particular : follow my advice and I shall take it as a personal fa- vour.” From him I run to my friend Chickney— knock Aimup. ‘Chickney,’ saysI,< don’t be alarm- ed ; there’s a tremendous,’ &c. &c. &e. Well, Sir, from him I ran to my friend Stintum ; knock him up. ‘Stintum,’ says I,” &c. &e. &e. Lwo o’clock.—Hobbleday had already mention- ed the names of nineteen persons to whom he had run, and repeated to me the same speech in precisely the same words as he had delivered it to each of them ; always commencing with “ Well, Sir, from him I run,’ &c. Greatly admire this method of telling a story, as I do my friend Major Boreall’s manner of narrat- ing ; who, for instance, is a longer time in telling you of his ordering a dinner than it would take you to eat it. As thus :—“ First of all, I say to Kaye,” ‘Kaye,’ says I, ¢ you will be very particular in let- ting us have a tureen of very nice spring-soup at one end of the table;’ then I say to Kaye, ‘ Kaye,’ says I,‘ you will be very particular in letting us have a tureen of very nice soupe-d-la reine at the other;”’ then I say to Kaye, ‘ Kaye,’ &c.’’ and so on through the whole service, even to a biscuit with * Proprietor of the Albion Hotel, at Aldersgate Street.Rion ia e Se Ae ee RO ieee cata aaeeaTS Pt rd gees pS 98 RESIDENCE IN the dessert. The great advantage of this system is that a vast deal of time is consumed by it ; and they will not be disposed to object to it whom experience has taught that haman life is considerably too long for any useful purpose, and who have found that, but for expedients of this kind for “ beguiling the times’? many hours would have been left at their own dispo- sal for which they must have sought employment. Long live the Borealls and the Hobbledays of the world for relieving us of this care ! Continued his story, in precisely the same form, through thirteen names more, and then proceeded : «Well, Sir, having taken all this trouble to pre- vent a run upon the house of this ungrateful man, it was near eight o’clock ; so home I go and get a mouthful of breakfast. Look at my banker’s book —find I have eleven pound-two in their hands. Eleven-pound-two as I hope to be saved! Bank opens at nine, thinks I; post won’t be in till ten :— probably the firm will know nothing of what is going on in London till then. Eleven-pound-two a great deal to me, though not much to a house like the Yawkins’s—I’ll go down quietly, as if I knew no- thing, and draw my balance,—fhaz can’t hurt them. Go—get there at a quarter before nine—what do I see ?—I’ll tell you what I see. JI see Shrubsole, I see Chickney, I see Stintum, I see [here he recapit- ulated the whole of the two-and-thirty names he had already mentioned, ending with] and I see Sniggers- ton: all, with consternation painted on their faces, crowding about the door. Notwithstanding my re- quest that they would not press upon my friendLITTLE PEDLINGTON. 99 Yawkins, there they all were—and before me, too ! What was the consequence? TJ’ll tell you. The consequence was, the first ten or a dozen that’ con- trived to squeeze in were paid; but that could not last, you know; human nature couldn’t stand it ; so after paying nearly two hundred pounds—stop ! a regular stoppage, Sir. I was at the tail of the crowd; and when I saw the green door closed you might have knocked me down with a feather. However, at the end of two years, although the outstanding claims amounted to nearly a thousand pounds, a divi- dend was paid pf four shillings in the pound: and now, Snargate drives his gig again, old Yawkins rides his cob, and, to the honour of our town be it said, the Little-Pedlington bank is asfrmand sound as any in Europe. Never keptcash there since, though; no more bankers for me—eleven-pound-two—the sight of that green door—no, no—one such fright in a man’s life is enough. Ahem!”? Here he paused. “ But,’ said I, “ you have not told me the point of the story—the cause of Mr. Yawkins’s hatred of you, which led you to fayour me with these inter- esting details,”’ ‘‘ Dear me—no more I have—forgot the point. You must know, then, that he has always. declared —mark the black ingratitude !—that if 1 had -not gone running all over Little-Pedlington, frightening his customers by telling them not to be alarmed, and and thus causing them to take him by surprise, he needn’t have stopped payment—till he thought best.”’ Here was another pause. Clock struck three.100 RESIDENCE IN “ Three o’clock, as sure as I’m born !”’ exclaimed my entertaining acquaintance. “ Now who’d have thought ¢hat! But, as I said before, time does fly when one is engaged in pleasant conversation. Have not enjoyed so agreeable a morning for a long while. Afraid ’ve kept you at home, though ;— lost all your morning——eh ?—Ha ! there goes Shrub- sole. Ahem !—the greatest bore in Little-Pedling- ton. He’ll sit with you for three hours, and not say a word. A man of no conversation.——But you are thinking about something—eh ?” Hobbleday right. Thinking about Sir Gabriel Gabble, a chattering bore, and Major Mum,a silent bore. One will sit with you ¢éte-d-¢éte through a long winter’s evening, as mute as if he had but just is- ry. sued from the cave of Trophonius, and (as Jack Ban- nister said of Dignum) thinks he’s thinking ; the other will chatter your very head off—his matter compounded of dull trivialties, common-place re- marks, and the most venerable of old-woman’s gos- sip—and calls it conversation—Query 1. Which of the two is the /east to be endured ? Query 2. Were you to be indicted for that you did accidentally toss them both (or any of the like) out at window, whereby did ensue “ a consummation devoutly to be wished,”’ would not a jury of any sensible twelve of your countrymen return a verdict of “ Justifi- able Bore-icide ?”’ Hobbleday rose to depart—but didn’t. Almost wished he would. Expressed an apprehension that I was trespassing too far upon his patience and good-nature by detaining him. Assured me |= LITTLE PEDLINGTON. 101 didn’t in the least. Sorry, indeed, to leave me; but it was near his dinner-time. Slowly drew on one glove, smoothing each finger separately with the other hand. Drew on the other glove with (as the French say) le méme jeu. Deliberately took up his hat, looked into the crown of it, and whistled part of atune. Reiterated his regrets that I didn’t play the flute : and repeated his assurance that I should find it a very great comfort. Made a move— (* At last’? thought I)—but not towards the door. His move, like a knight’s at chess, brought him, by a zigzag, only into another corner. Made the cir- cuit of the room, read all the cards and advertise- ments that were hanging against the walls, whistling all the time. “« Well, now Jor the present.’’ Can’t account for it; but on hearing these three words, you might—(to use Hobbleday’s own expres- sion)—you might have knocked me down with a feather. «¢ By-the-bye, promised to take you to see my dear friend Rummins’s museum on a private day. Can’t go I must. Sorry to leave you, to-morrow. Thursday, I’m engaged. Let me see; —aye, I’ll send you a letter of introduction to him —’twill be the same thing—he’ll do any thing to oblige me. Now, remember; any thing I can do to be agreeable to you whilst you stay in our place— command me. Sorry our little dinner-party can’t take place ¢Ais time; but when you come again to Little-Pedlington—remember—come you must— —positively won’t take Vo for an answer. Every 10See ee, ie aieytemeasser al Sas as Sa Ab RE gS pa ee ROPE ore SS 102 RESIDENCE IN body knows little Jack Hobbleday—always willing to—always anxious to good bye—see you at Hoppy’s publick breakfast to-morrow—good-bye.”’ Really he is an obliging creature; and not to avail myself of his proffered civilities would be an offence. Strolled out—(four o’clock and the thermometer at 82°)—and found the town deserted. Informed it was the fashionable day for walking to Snapshank Hill to see the view—only nine miles distant. How unfortunate am I that Hobbleday didn’t acquaint me with this! for (with a tolerable telescope) one may look back and see the spire of Little-Pedling- ton church—the chief purpose of the pilgrimage. Approached a window wherein were exhibited se- veral profiles in black, and a notice that “ Likeness- es are taken in this manner, at only one shilling each, 72 one minute.’’? There was a full-length of Hobbleday—no mistaking it—and of Mrs. Shanks, the confectioner; and of Miss Tidmarsh, with her poodle; and of many others, the originals of which I knew not, but all unquestionable likenesses, no doubt; for the works before me were Davusson’s. Recollected his “all-but-breathing Grenadier;”’ re- collected, too, Jubb’s noble apostrophe to him,— ‘¢Stand forth, my Daubson, matchless and alone!” and instantly resolved to sit to him for a black pro- file. My request to see Mr. Daubson was answered by a little girl, seated at a little table, and employed in preparing the happy canvass destined to receive im-LITTLE PEDLINGTON. 103 mortality from the hand of the great artist: in other words, she was cutting up a sheet of drawing-card into squares of different SIZeS. ‘Mr. Daubson can’t possibly be disturbed just yet, Sir,” said she, with an air of importance befit- ting the occasion; “he is particularly engaged with a sitter.’ ‘¢-Then,’? 23 replied I, « I will call again in an hour or two, or to-morrow, or the next ayes: “ But.”” continued she, (not noticing what I said,) “if you will take a seat Sir, for half a minute or SO y he will see you. The lady es been with him nearly a minute already!” Recollected Daubson’s expeditious method of handing down to posterity his mementos of the prorthies of his own time—*« perpetuating”’ is, I be- lieve, the word I Ought to use. And this word re- minds me of an untoward cirsumstance which occur- red (not in Little-Pedlington, but at another equally well known place—Paris) upon the occasion of a Welsh friend requesting me to take him to the stu- dio of the Chevalier G , (unquestionably the best portrait-painter in France,) whose works he express- ed a great desire to see. The name of the party introduced, which was well known, would have been a sufficient passport to the Chevalier, even had it not been countersigned by me, and he was received with flattering attention; the painter himself conduct- ing him through the studio, and carefully exhibiting to him his choicest productions. His portraits were of high merit as works of art, yet I must admit, he he had not been fortunate in his originals, who cer-Spicer © aonb 2 oe A aA - Ser eS Ais RN comets eats Mn RRO al n> aS Se ig 104 RESIDENCE IN tainly had not furnished his pencil with the most beautiful specimens of the “human face divine.”’ My friend examined the pictures with great minute- ness, but made no remark, although the Chevalier understood English perfectly well. Having comple- ted the voyage autour de la chambre, the painter, whose vanity was scarcely less than his politeness, turned towards his visiter with an evident, and no un- natural, expectation of some complimentary obser- vation. The latter, having given one last and general glance round the room, exclaimed,—“ Monsieur le Chevalier—what devilish infatuation can induce people to desire to perpetuate their d *d ugly faces!—Monsieur le Chevalier, I wish you good morning.” Resolved that the recollection of this anecdote should not be lost upon me on the present occasion. Ushered into the presence of the great artist. As it usually happens with one’s preconceived notions of the personal appearance of eminent people, mine, with respect to Daubson, turned out to be all wrong. In the portrait of Michael Angelo you read of the severity and stern vigour of his works; of tenderness, elegance, and delicacy in Raphael’s; in Rembrandt’s, of his coarseness as well as of his strength; in Van- dyck’s, of refinement; in all, of intellectual power. But I must own that, in Daubson, I perceived no- thing indicative of the creator of the “ Grenadier.” Were 1, however, to attempt to convey by a single word a general notion of his appearance, I should say it is interesting. To descend to particulars:— He is considerably below the middle height; hisLITTLE PEDLINGTON. 105 figure is slim, except towards the lower part of the waistcoat, where it is protuberant; his arms are long, and his knees have a tendency to approach each other; face small, sharp, and pointed; complexion of a bilious hue, the effect, doubtless, of deep study; small gray eyes; bushy black eyebrows; and head destitute of hair; except at the hinder part, where the few stragglers are collected and bound together pigtail-wise. Dress:—coat of brown fustian; waist- coat, stockings, and smalls, black; silk neckerchief, black; and, I had almost added, black shirt, but that I should hardly be warranted in declaring on this point upon the small specimen exhibited. Man- ners, language and address, simple and unaffected; and in these you at once recognized the Grnius.— Having told him, in reply to his question whether I came to be “ done,” that I had come for that pur- pose, he (disdaining the jargon common to your Lon- don artists about “ Kitcats,’’ and “ whole lengths,”’ and “ Bishop’s half-lengths,”’ and “ three-quarters,”’ and so forth,) came at once to the point, saying— “Do you wish to be taken short—or long, Mis- ter?”’ Told him [I should prefer being taken short. “Then get up and sit down, if you please, Mis- teri? Unable to reconcile these seemingly contradictory directions, till he pointed to a narrow, high-backed chair, placed on a platform elevated a few inches above the floor. By the side of the chair was a ma- chine of curious construction, from which proceed- ed a long wire.—Mounted, and took my seat, 10* gt eh ” Aes 4 : Neat ing I 8 enNe |e cert, ey Bs i at, aaa 7 al NO pl hl See — ah marr none i he He a cchstonannaare emul me Le Saar PAD SPST ee 106 RESIDENCE IN « Now, Mister, please look at that.’’ said Daubson; at the same time pointing to a Dutch cuckoo-clock which hung in a corner of the room. ‘“TIwenty- four minutes and a-half past four. Head, stzddy, Mister. ”’ He then slowly drew the wire I have mentioned over my head, and down my nose and chin; and having so done, exclaimed, < ‘There, Mister, now look at the clock—twenty-five minutes and a-half. What do you think of that?’ What could I think, indeed? or what could I do but utter an exclamation of astonishment! In that inconceivably short time had the “ great Daubson’”’ produced, in profile, a perfect outline of my bust, with the head thrown back, and the nose interesting- ly perked up in the air. “Such,” might Hoppy well exclaim, “such are the wonders of art!”’ « Now, Mister, while I’m giving the finishing touches to the picture—that is to say, filling up the outline with Jngy-ink—I wish you’d just have the goodness to give me your candid opinion of my works here. But no flattery, Mister;—tell me what you really think. I like to be told of my faults; I turn it to account; I improve by it.’ Looked at the profiles hanging about the room. Said of them, severally, “ Beautiful!’?—“ Charm- ing!”’—“ Exquisite !’’—“ Divine!’’ «So, so, Mister,’’ said Daubson, rising,. ‘1l-ve found you out; you are an artist.’’ «J assure you, Sir,’’ said I, “ you are mistaken. I am sorry I cannot boast of being a member of that distinguished profession.”’LITTLE PEDLINGTON. 107 ‘“ You can’t deceive me, Mister. Nobody, except- ing one of us, can know so much about art as you do. Your opinions are so Just, it can’t be otherwise. But these are trifles not worth speaking of—though they may be very well in their way, Mister—and though, without vanity, I may say I don’t know the man that can beat them. Butewhat think you of my great work—my ‘Grenadier,’ Mister? Now, without flattery.” Encouraged by praise of my connoisseurship, and from so high a quarter, I talked boldly, as a connois- seur ought to do; not forgetting to make a liberal use of those terms, by the employment of which one who knows little may acquire a reputation for con- noisseurship amongst those who_know less: and con- cluding (like the last discharge of rockets at Vaux- hall) by letting off all my favourite terms at once— ‘* Mr. Daubson,”’ said I, “1 assure you, that for de- sign, composition, drawing, and colour—for middle- distance, foreground, background, chtaro scuro, tone, fore-shortening, and light and shade—for breadth, depth, harmony, perspective, pencilling, and finish—I have seen nothing in Little-Pedling ton that would endure a moment’s comparison with 16. < «¢ Where could you have got your knowledge of art, your fine taste, your sound judgment, if you are not an artist? I wish I could have the advantage of your opinion now and then—so correct in all res- pects—I am sure I should profit by it, Mister.— Now—there is your portrait: as like you as one pea is to another, Mister.”’EL TT SREP AE eee oa Sr ee Re Aoi ieee ae - Siaieeens rie i! ts aa ER a AN t ive { C ‘4 f a i} Bike bh 5) ) 1 De Bt fa | ; tie 108 RESIDENCE IN “Yes,”’ said I, “it is like; but isn’t the head thrown rather too much backwards?’’ Daubson’s countenance fell. “Too much back- wards! Why, Mister, how would you have the head?’’ «¢ My objection goes simply to this, Mr. Daubson. It seems to me that, by throwing the head into that 99 position «Seems to you, Mister. I think I, as a profes- sional artist, ought to know best. But that is the curse of our profession: people come to us, and would teach ws what to do.”’ «You asked me for a candid opinion, Sir; other- wise I should not have presumed to e «¢ Yes, Mister, I did ask you for a candid opinion; and so long as you talked like a sensible man, I lis- tened to you. But when you talk to a professional man upon a subject he, naturally, must be best ac- quainted with Backwards, indeed! I never placed a head better in all my life!” Reflecting that Daubson “as a professional man,”’ must, consequently, be infallible, 1 withdrew my objection, and changed the subject. “‘ How is it, Sir,’’ said I, “ that so eminent an ar- tist as you is not a member of the Royal Acade- my?”’ « D—n the Royal Academy?”’ exclaimed he, his yellow face turning blue: “ D—n the Royal Acade- my! they shall never see me amongst such a set. No, Mister; I have thrown down the gauntlet and defied them. When they refused to exhibit my ‘Grenadier,’ I made up my mind never to send themLITTLE PEDLINGTON. 109 another work of mine, Mister; never to countenance them in any way: and I have kept my resolution. No, Mister; they repent their treatment of me, but it is too late; Daubson is unappeasable: they may fret their hearts out, but they shall never see a pic- ture of mine again. Why, Mister, it is only last year that a friend of mine—without my know- ledge—sent them one of my pictures, and they re- jected it. They knew well enough whose it was. But I considered that as the greatest compliment ever paid me—it showed they were afraid of the competition. D—nem! if they did but know how much [ despise ’em! I never bestow a thought upon 7em; not I, Mister. But that den must be broken up;—there will be no high art in England whilst that exists. Intrigue! cabal! it is notorious that they never exhibit any man’s pictures unless he hap- pens to have R. A. tacked to his name. It is notort- ous that they pay five thousand a-year to the ‘Times’ for praising ¢heir works and not noticing mine. D—n ’em! what a thorough contempt I feel for ’em! I can imagine them at their dinners which cost them thousands a-year;—there they are, Phillips,and Shee, and Pickersgill, and Wilkie, laying their heads to- gether to oppose me! But which of them can paint a ‘Grenadier?’? D—n’em! they are one mass of envy and uncharitableness, that I can tell you, Mister.’’ « Happily, Mr. Daubson,”’ said I, “those vices scarcely exist in Little-Pedlington.”’ ‘;Unheard of, Mister. I don’t envy them—I envy no man—on the contrary, I’m always ready to lend a hand to push on any rising talent that110 RESIDENCE IN comes forward;—though, to be sure, Ill allow no man to take profiles in Little-Pedlington whilst £ live. That’s self-preservation. But they—! they’d destroy me if they could. But, bad as some of them are, the worst are those envious fellows, Turner and Stanfield. They have done their utmost, to crush me, but they have not succeeded. Why, Mister, last summer I began to do a little in the landscape way. No sooner were my views of the Crescent and of Little-Pedlington Church mentioned in our newspaper, than down comes a man from London with a camera-obscura to oppose me! Who was at the bottom of that? Who sent him? Why they did, to be sure. The envious ! But 1 didn’t rest till I got him out of the town; so that scheme failed. No, no, Mister; they’ll not get me amongst them in their d—d Academy—at least, not whilst they go on in their present style. But let them look to it; —let them take care how they treat me for the fu- ture;—let them do their duty by me—they know what I mean—or they may bring the ¢ Little-Ped- lington Weekly Observer’ about their ears. For my own part I never condescend to bestow a thought upon them! D—n’em! if they did but know the contempt I feel for them!”’ | Here another sitter was announced; so I received my portrait from the hands of the great artist, paid my shilling, and departed. “So then,’’ thought I, “‘ genius, even a Daubson’s, is not secure from the effects of envy and persecution (real or imaginary) even in Little-Pedlington!”’ Stx o’clock.—Returned to mine inn. In theLITTLE PEDLINGTON. br} course of the evening received a note from Hobble- day, inclosing sealed letters to Rummins and Jubb, “ Dear Sir,—Sorry cannot have pleasure of ac- companying you to my dear friend Rummins, nei- ther to my worthy friend Jubb. Send letters of in- troduction—spoke in warmest terms—all you can desire. Sorry shan’t see you to dine with me this time—next time you must—no denial. Believe me, my dear Sir, your most truly affectionate friend, “ Joon Hopsiepay. «P. S. Do think of my advice about flute—do turn your mind to it—will find ita great comfort.” Will not believe otherwise than that Hobbleday is a warm-hearted, sincere little fellow. To-morrow to Hoppy’s publick breakfast, where I shall meet all the beauty and fashion of Little-Ped- lington. Afterwards with my letters to Rummins and Jubb. With such warm introductions from their friend Hobbleday what a reception do I antici- pate !—FPS renee Sal RR be TR a aN et ace ss i ag 27 mea ere ; = Se Seah RS i NN ee RESIDENCE IN CHAPTER LV. “ A chiel’s amang ye takin’ notes.”—Burns. Wednesday, June 17th.——Aroused by a violent knocking at my door. “ Whatis the matter?’ said I, startled by the noise. «Get up, Sir, for Heaven’s sake get up, the chambermaid: “ the house is 0’ fire!” “The house on fire! What’so’clock!”’ inquired if « Almost six, Sir. Get up, get up, get up!”’ “¢ Only six o’clock? and the house on fire!” “Lo this there was no reply; for the chambermaid having fulfilled her duty by communicating the ineMipdnee to me, was proceeding in her laudable occupation of alarming such of the lodgers as were still (to speak poetically) “in the arms of Morpheus.”’ Albeit unused to pay my respects to the sun at his levée, the present provocation was irresistible. Rising early for the idle purpose of “ brushing with early feet the morning dew,” and listening to the matin song of the lark, is one thing; performing the same disagreeable exploit to avoid being burned in one’s bed, is another; so I arose and dressed. Expected, as the smallest compensation for this untimely dis- turbance, that I should be enabled to enrich this my journal with an account of the dangers I had to en- »? criedLITTLE PEDLINGTON. 112 counter in making my way through clouds of eurl- ing smoke, and volumes of the « devouring ele- ment’’—of rushing along corridors and down stair- cases enveloped in flame—haply of snatching a fe- male young and beautiful from the “ awful jaws of destruction.”” Alas! no such good fortune was mine. On opening my door I was regaled, to be sure, with a very disagreeable odour of soot; but, dis- appointment ineffable! 1 walked down stairs unin- terrupted by either of the antagonists for whose oppo- sition I had prepared myself. No where was a blaze, or even a single spark of fire, to be seen; and, to render my mortification complete, in reply to my anxious inquiries concerning the whereabout and the extent of the conflagration, 1 was informed by Scorewell that it was only the kitchen-chimley which had been o’fire, but that he, assisted by the waiter, had succeeded in extinguishing it with a bucket of water or two! ‘“ And was it for this?” thought I, with a sigh. In about half-an-hour after the event—time enough to have allowed of the “ Green Dragon” being burnt to the ground—three ragged little boys, headed by the parish beadle, came dragging along a fire engine somewhat bigger than a wheelbarrow. Having waited for some time, with eyes anxiously fixed on the building, and nothing occurring to require their services, “ Come, boys,” said the liveried guardian of the public safety, with a shake of the head,andina melancholy tone: ‘Come boys, take the engine back again; there’s no hope.”’ This reminded me of the complaint of a certain per- son, well known as a subscriber to most of the pub- 11114 RESIDENCE IN lic charities, and follower of the public sights and amusements of London, that although he had been a Life-Governor ot the Humane Society for nearly four months he had not yet seen any one drowned! There is, generally speaking, a beautiful propor- tion in things. The destruction of the Houses of Parliament by fire was, for some time, the preyail- ing topic of conversation in London; in like manner, the fire in Scorewell’s kitchen chimney obliterated the remembrance of the losing and the finding of Miss Cripps’s bag, and became the talk of all Little- Pedlington during the whole of thisday. Compared with the relative extent, population, and impor- tance of the two towns, the interest of the two events is about equal. ‘The political economist, perhaps, and the statistician (if that be the term) may think lightly of this notion; yet Lapprehend there is some- thing in it which might be worth the consideration of the moralist or the observer of manners, never- theless. Well; having been at the trouble of rising at six o’clock ,I will not go to bed again, although it be now no morethan seven. I have occasionally heard the pleasures and advantages of early rising extolled— especially by Hobblebay. JI must be unlucky in- deed if, from this experiment, I do not derive some benefit; though, as it is my first, my expectations are wisely moderate. Walked into the town. Had the satisfaction of seeing the shutters taken down from several shop- windows; a very pretty sight; though as none of the various commodities intended for sale are exhibitedLITTLE PEDLINGTON. 115 till later in the day, that is all there was to'see. Pass- ing a door, was almost choked by a cloud of dust and dirt suddenly broomed out by a young gentle- man.who was sweeping the shop. A little farther on encountered another young gentleman, who, with a huge watering-pot, was describing large figures of eight on the pavement, whistling all the while. En- deavoured to skip out of reach of his fountain, first on one side, then on the other. Received at each a plentiful supply of water about the legs. Unac- quainted, as yet, with early-morning etiquette: so as the young gentleman did not beg my pardon, but, with an unconcerned air, continued to whistle and to water, | thought it might be proper to beg his. Did so. “ No offence,” said the young gentleman. Turning the corner of a street, came in contact with a chimney-sweeper: my appearance not improved by the collision. “ All right again!’? exclaimed a a facetious baker, who ran against’me within the same minute. An admirable illustration of the prin- ciple of compensation, certainly. A butcher’s boy, turning suddenly round to nod to an acquaintance struck me a smart blow on the head with the corner of his tray, out of which a leg of mutton was jerked by the concussion: received, at the same time, a well-merited rebuke, though in not very choice terms, for my awkwardness. Nearly thrown down by a milkman’s swinging one of his sharp-rimmed pails against my legs: the consequence was a bruised shin, the injury of my trowsers, and a copious effu- sion of milk. Preparing to express my displeasure at the man’s carelessness: but it being the unanimous Ce ) = = ena ae eee ep SENT ed Tiga ag gear meet 12e RESIDENCE IN stigmatized by Scorewellasahumbug! O, Friendship, spontaneous as it is disinterested and pure! QO, shades of Castor and of Pollux! O, Pylades! and Orestes, O! You, ye sublime exemplars of the noble passion! If ever About to proceed to Rum- mins’s I have not time to work out my apostrophe in a way worthy of the subject. But what I mean to say is this; let those who complain that Friendship is not to be found on the surface of our wicked world—a complaint which Ido most devoutly believe to be rarely well grounded, except in the case of such as do not deserve to find it—let them, I say, try Little-Pedlington. To the residence of Simcox Rummins, Esq., F. S. A. The door opened bya little, slim woman, aged and tottering—the finest specimen of the living antiquities of the place I had yet seen—an appro- priate appendage to the domestic establishment of the F.S. A. Her age (as I was afterwards told) ninety-four. Asked me if I wanted to see “little Master.” «Little Master! No.’ replied I; “my visit, my good lady, is to Mr. Rummins, the elder, who is, as I am informed, a gentleman of near sixty.” “«“That’s him, Sir,’ rejoined the old woman, as she ushered me into a small parlour; “but that’s the name he has always gone by with me, and it’s natural enough, for I was his nurse and weaned the dear babby when he was only three weeks old—as fine a babby as ever war—and he has never been out of my sight never since.” Without halting in her speech she pointed toa drawing suspended over a buffet.) “There he is, bless him! done when heLITTLE PEDLINGTON. L27 Was only three years old over the cupboard with a dog behind him in skyblue jacket and trowsers with suger-loaf buttons running arter a butterfly in brown beaver hat just afore he was taken with the small-pox with a Brussels lace collar to his shirt and an orange in his hand which he bore like an angel through the poor dear babby’s sufferings——”’ “Thankee, thankee, thankee,” cried I, forcing a passage through her speech; “ but if you will have the kindness to inform Mr. cc It was in vain: for (unlike the generality of ladies of her vocation, who are usually not over-communi- cative of their infomation concerning the early dis- eases, sufferings, and escapes of their interesting charges) she bestowed on me a particular account of the “poor dear babby’s’”’ (the present illustrious Ff’. S. A’s) progress though the small-pox, measles, hooping-cough, rash, rush, thrush, mumps, dumps, croup, roup, and forty other sublime inventions, which I had, or had not, before heard of, for di- minishing the numbers of the infantine population; nor did she cease till she had safely conveyed him through the the scarlet fever, which “ took him”— happily, not off—in his fifteenth year. She then withdrew to inform Mr. Rummins of my visit. Cannot say that I felt at all obliged to the old lady for the information, since it must to a certain extent, diminish my interest in little master’s “ Life and Vimes,’’ which is preparing for the press by Jubb, who will, doubtless, treat of those matters with becoming minuteness. Being left alone, I read the various printed cs eo 9 Seats ON se WEEE : apes —mmeninendl =a = pee , I RE ee 148 RESIDENCE IN rising in my breast—that I shall take no further no- tice of your very—extraordinary —behaviour than just to return you your very flattering \etters af introduction to your friends Rummins and Jubb.’ And with these words I presented to him both his letters, open. Conscience-stricken, with some difficulty he bolt- ed the morsel which he had in his mouth—the ef- fort producing a violent fit of coughing, which oreat- ly alarmed me for his safety; and that, in ts turn, by the convulsive movement which it communicat- ed to his arms, causing him to jerk the lumps of ham from out their envelope of bread-and-butter, and to spill the entire contents of his cup over his nankeen trowsers. When he was sufficiently recovered to articulate a few words, abashed and confused he thus attempted to excuse himself—crossing his ad- dress to me with a disjointed apostrophe to his dam- aged nankeens:— “My dear fellow—really, my dear Sir you ever see such a mess?—Indeed, Sir, if you’ll believe me Wet through and through, as I hope to be saved!—Most improper conduct of theirs to show my confidential letters It will give me my death of cold.—As for Rummins, his age pro- tects him, else may [ perish if--Cost sixteen-and- sixpence, and new on only yesterday.—Can take no notice of Jubb; his cloth protects Azm. They’ll wash to be sure! but their beauty’s gone for ever! did —But don’t set me down for a humbug, don’t; if there’s one character I despise more than another it’s a Awful accident, indeed! Can’t conceiveLITTLE PEDLINGTON. 149 how uncomfortable one feels with one’*s——No fault of mine, ’pon my life; and rest assured that next time you visit our place must go —All eyes are upon me; —Between ourselves, his museum not worth seeing, and that’s the reason why I Can’t stay to dance in such a mess, though I know my dear friend Hoppy has set his heart upon little Jack Hobbleday’s dancing BSNos Ho, ni tay thing but a humbug; and if there’s any thing else whatever I can do for you eacept Rummins and Jubb———_Good bye, my dear fellow————A wful accident! a thousand pities! the best fit I ever had in all my life!’’ Symptons of dissatisfaction again. Two o’clock has struck, and the signal for the commencement of dancing (“ the firing of a real cannon’’) not yet made. Calls for the Master of the Ceremonies and a repeti- tion of the customary cries of “Shausé! Shausé!”? For the honour of the M. C., I am bound to declare my opinion that the blame for the delay ought not to have been attributed to him. For the last four or five minutes he had been sedulously poking at the touchhole of the piece, with a lighted candle fasten- ed to the end of a very long pole; a precaution which, as he made no pretensions to considerable skill in the science of gunnery, he had prudently adopted in or- der to keep himself, as far as possible, out of the dangers necessarily attending such an undertaking. But the gun would not go off: it was evident (to use a theatrical phrase) there was a hitch in the scenery. «“ Had he put any gunpowder into the cannon?” In- quired one. “ Plenty,’? was his reply. “ Which 14 iF P SAees ut ae a re ee wd 2 erier pire sae peepee teen ona p oe — 150 RESIDENCE IN had he put in first—the powder or the wadding?”’ asked another. After a moment’s reflection Mr. Hoppy. declared that “he was pretty clear, nay, he was positively certain, he had put the powder in first.’ Perhaps he might have omitted the trifling ceremony of priming? “No: he always made ita rule to prime the gun before he fired it.’? Then, in that case, the company could come to but one conclu- sion: the devil was in the gun. But the unlucky gen- tleman who is generally held answerable for the ill consequences of our own blunders, or negligences, or offences, could establish his innocence, in the pre- sent instance, by proving an a/zébz?. Upon a careful inspection, the true cause of the disobedient conduct of the obstinate six-pounder appeared to be, that some dull perpetrator of practical jokes had abstract- ed the priming, and, in place of it, filled the touch- hole with wet tea-leaves! Hereupon hisses, groans, and, from four or five persons (sounds most. fearful to the ears of an M. C.!) calls of “ Return the mo- ney!’? These latter declared that, never having wit- nessed the ceremony of letting off a gun, they had come. upon that inducement only—reminding me of a certain intelligent person, who made Paris his residence during an entire summer, for no other purpose than to eat melons and see balloons let off. Mr. Hoppy mounted a bench, and entreated the in- dulgence of his “ honourable, noble, and illustrious patrons.’’? He assured them that in the whole course of the many years he had “ belonged to the Proper- ty,’ such an accident had never before occurred, and that he would raise heaven and earth to preventLITTLE PEDLINGTON. 151 a similar accident occurring again: that there was nothing he would not willingly do or suffer——no sacrifice he would, for a moment, hesitate to make —to satisfy the wishes of such an assembly as the one he had the honourable gratification of address- ing. But (he continued, ) as to returning the money, he most humbly requested permission to take the liberty of assuring them, in the most respectful man- ner, that that was a moral impossibility, and altogeth- er Inconsistent with the long-established usages of “the Property.”’? Besides, he hoped he might be allowed to remind his munificent patrons that they had already enjoyed the breakfast which he had had the satisfaction of providing for them; as also to hint to two or three of those kind friends who had con- descended to honour “the Property’? with their presence, and who were the most clamorous in de- mancing the return of their money—that they had come in with orders!—The reasonableness of this address, seconded by its master-of-the-ceremony- like politeness and elegance, lulled the rising storm; and the preparations for dancing proceeded. In a place like Little-Pedlington, and at such an entertainmentas a public breakfast given by the Mas- ter of the Ceremonies in Yawkins’s skittle-ground, it may not unreasonably be supposed that “noble and illustrious visiters from Ioondon’’? who attend it, are tenacious concerning the etiquette of prece- dency. And although in the confusion of a rush of upwards of forty persons, each struggling to secure the most advantageous place for listening to the ra- vishing performance of the Del Squeaki; or even inage pane LE BIE A SN AE SS OS NB a : ae . camieck SR oi Ste ce ot eS pe Sr a eet Stathasthe T lb pesmcsne te eee SS ne ee 152 RESIDENCE IN the scarcely more regular arrangement of the break- fast-table, at which each naturally takes possession of any seat nearest to the cold ham or the hot rolls, which may chance to be vacant, the observance of such ceremony is not insisted upon: it is, neverthe- less, important, if not absolutely indispensable, to the existence of polite society that, when persons are brought together for the dance, the laws of pre- cedency should be rigidly adhered to. It appears that hitherto the place of honour had been unhesitatingly conceded to Mr. and Mrs. Hobbs Hobbs (Scorewell’s “ family with the fly,”’ it may be remembered), except indeed, when Sir Swaggerton Shuffle condescended to honour the gar- den with his presence. Upon such occasions Sir Swaggerton, although he did not dance, would just occupy the enviable place for a minute or so—“ Just to prove his right to it,’? as he said—and then retire: A knight; wealthy; lately returned from the govern- ment of Fort Popan’gobang (somewhere in the East Indies); and a descendant, withal, of the great Draw- cansir, as may be inferred from the motto he had adopted as an appendage to his arms—* And all this I can do because I dare:’’ before his pretensions even those of the Hobbs Hobbses quailed. [Mem. At Mr. Hoppy’s recommendation will dine to-morrow at Mrs. Stintum’s boarding-house, where Sir S. 8S, is living, and (in Hoppy’s own words) “is to be seen in all his glory.’ ] Upon the present occasion, the Master of the Ceremonies was sorely perplexed by the several, and contending, claims of distinguished persons whoLITTLE PEDLINGTON. 158 had this day honoured him with their company for the first time; these being people of no less impor- tance than Mr. St. Knitall and his lady, and Mr. and Mrs. Fitzbobbin. he knight not making his appearance, Mr. and Mrs. Hobbs Hobbs were pro- ceeding to their usual station, when Mr. and Mrs. Fitzbobbin rushed past them and took possession of it. “Come out o’that,” said Mr. Hobbs Hobbs: “them ’ere is our places.”’ “We shan’t,”’ fiercely replied Mr. Fitzbobbin; at the same time pulling ona white kid glove ina way that clearly showed he was not the man to be put down: “ we shan’t: we paid our money as well as you, so the places is as much our’n as your’n.”’ “If some folks don’t know how to behave them- selves when they get into genteel company, perhaps there’s other folks as’ll teach ’em,’’ said Mr. H. H. “YT wish you may get it,’’ coolly observed the other, who did not appear to be in the least intimi- dated by the implied threat. «“ My dear Mr. Hobbs Hobbs,”’ said Mrs. H. H., « don’t bemean yourself by getting into a confortion with such folks. Leave the Master of the Ceremo- nies to settle the pint. You may see as how they have never been at Little-Pedlington afore. Margate —by the steamer, Ha! ha! hal’? The altercation had proceeded thus far when, for- tunately, the Master of the Ceremonies arrived to interpose his authority. This he exercised with so much judgment, and with decision so tempered by suavity, that though he could not exactly please both 14> ee ig a iting,154 RESIDENCE IN parties, even the dissatisfied acquiesced in his decree. He awarded the contested place to the Hobbs Hobbs- es upon two grounds: first, by right of long-main- tained possession; and next, and chiefly, for that they travelled in their own one-horse fly, which the other party did not. As Mrs. Fitzbobbin receded, she said with a sneer, “ Of course, my dear Fitz, we must give up to carriage company! But sztch carriage company! One-horse fly! Ha! ha! ha! Carriage company! All round my hat.”’ ‘“ Ha! ha! ha! That’s a teazer, I think,’ said Mr. F. with an approving chuckle at his lady’s wit: “ and what ’l] you bet we can’t buy ’em out and out—fly and alli: Fad shat dal?” «JT shouldn’t wonder,’? quietly observed Mr. Hobbs Hobbs, and scarcely deigning a look at his adversary. Then turning to his lady he said in an affected whisper, yet so loud as that every one should hear him: “ When we relate this ’ere scene to our /rzend Lord Squandermere, I think he won’t aon ai i. 2 During these disputes, Mr. Twistwireville and Mr. De Stewpan (the latter being the gentleman mentioned by mine host of the Green Dragon as “ re- markably particular about his wine’’) were standing arm in arm, picking their teeth, and looking on with a sort of negligé air. Occasionally they in- dulged in a titter, smiled, turned up their noses, and whispered each other: by all which it was clear they would impress you with a notion how exceedingly amusing were the disputes of such people to men of their quality.LITTLE PEDLINGTON. 155 But here a new difficulty arose, and one, apparent- ly, less easy of settlement than the former. Mrs. St. Knitall, though she willingly conceded the right of the first place to the party with the imposing du- plication of name, and the friends of a Lord, more- over; yet thought she had quite as good a right to the second as Mrs. Fitzbobbin: for who was Mrs. Fitzbobbin she should like to know? The point for the M. C. now to decide was, whether or not a #%¢z had aright to take prece- dence of a S¢. A question turning upon so nice a point might have puzzled a wiser head than even Mr. Hoppy’s: so Mr. Hoppy did not hesitate to con- fess himself puzzled exceedingly. He suggested that, setting aside that distinction, the party whose name appeared first in his subscription-book should have precedence. To this Mr. St. Knitall objected; knowing probably, that his did not. Hereupon high words occurred between Mr. St. K. and Mr. Fitz B. This altercation was not carried on in the playful and neatly-sareastic style which had distin- guished the previous one: here was no small-sword fence, but the bludgeon: in this case the gentlemen had recourse to language which—in short, they re- gularly O’Connellized each other. Cards were hastily (and as the event proved) ex- changed; and fatal might have been the consequen- ces, had not the M. C. adroitly seized them both in their transit. He suggested that the gentlemen should permit him to throw both cards up into the air; and that whichever first fell to the ground should determine the disputed point in favour of its oT, : are 5 a a replied his companion— parties for so long as he had his own trifling disguise to maintain, but who now was resolved net to fall alone: *¢ Well, at any rate we are as good as Mr. Twistwire, the bird-eage-maker of Holborn, or Dick Stewpan, a cook at the Lunnun Tavern, let out on an ’oliday for a week in the dull season.”’ At this momenta groom in livery rushed in, cry- ing to the door-keeper, “I am not going to stay: I only want to speak a word to Mr. Hobbs.’’ «“ Mr. Hobbs,’’ said he, addressing the family- with-the-fly gentleman, “ your holiday’s cut short: my Lord has sent me to order you up to town im- mediately: Mounseer is taken suddenly ill, and my Lord has nobody that he can fancy to tie a shoe- string for him.”? And away went the groom whist- ling Handel’s “ Every Valet shall be exalted.’’ Oh!” thought I.LITTLE PEDLINGTON. k57 The sky had been lowering for some time, and presently a heavy shower came down which abrupt- ly terminated the morning’s amusements—an inter- ruption not disagreeable, perhaps, to certain of the company. Being engaged for this evening at Mr. Rummins’s returned home to an early dinner:—wondering by the way whether pretensions upon a similar scale, or a smaller, or a greater, though upon no better a foundation, are ever asserted in other places besides Little-Pedlington.ee % i} | } ' 158 RESIDENCE IN CHAPTER VIL. “A chicl’s among ye takin’ notes.”—Burns. RUMMINS’S CONVERSAZIONE——-RUMMINSIAN MUSEUM. Wednesday, June 17th.—Berine engaged to fea with the learned antiquary, Rummins, at six, re- turned to a hasty dinner at five. Having ordered nothing more than a veal-cutlet, was not a little as- tonished at the parade with which the repast was serv- ed. Heard Scorewell withoutside calling, in an author- itative tone,—«Now—Number Fifteen’s dinner— look sharp.”? Presently the door was thrown open, and there entered, in procession, Scorewell with a dish of cutlets, who was succeeded by the head waiter carrying a dish of broccoli, who was followed by a boy with a couple of potatoes; who was fol- fowed by another boy with a butter-boat. ‘These things being placed in due form upon the table, Scorewell and his satellites hopped and skipped round and round it; one officiously moving the pep- per-castor half an inch to the right of the place where it stood; another shoving the vinegar-cruet half an inch to the left; a third taking ap a spoon and laying it down again with an air of busy-ness,— each doing something which did not need to be done. This display of good-for-nothing activityLITTLE PEDLINGTON. 159 ended, the assistants left the room; and Scorewell, after a preparatory “ahem,”? ( at the same time, with a-sort of draught-playing action, displacing and re- placing every article on the table,) said— “ Hope you’ll excuse what’s past, Sir-—attendance in future shall be better than it has been, Sir—no fault of ours » Sir; but now that that family with the fly is gone, as I am happy to say, Sir-—Plague on? em! The gentleman—I mean. that man, that Hobbs, who has no more got two Hobbses in his name than I have, turns ont after all to be nothing more than valet to Lord Squandermere! But I was right: I thought from the first they were no- body.. Your real gentlefolks never give no trouble, never complain. But, as. for them, nothing was never good enough for ’em; and as. for Waiting on, I’m sure the little profit I have got by ’em will hardly pay for the bell-wires they have worn out.— Ahem!—What wine would you choose to take to- day, Sir??? “Remembering what you told mea day or two ago,’’ replied I—(and to my shame I confess it was with malice prepense that I did so)—‘“ remembering that, Scorewell, I shall not pretend to a choice; so give mea little of the wine which you are in the habit of serving to Mr.—Mr.—I forget his name, but I mean the gentleman who is so ‘remarkably particular about his wine:’ Mr. De Stewpan, I think a “Particular, indeed! Another bird of the same feather, Sir. Cook at the London Tavern, Sir. But he never deceived me. From the first moment160 RESIDENCE IN I saw him, Sir, I thought he was no real gentleman, for all the De to his name. And his friend Twist- wire, the bird-cage maker, with a ville tacked to his! A pretty show-up of the whole party, indeed, there has been at Mr. Hoppy’s public breakfast this morning. When great folks go into a strange place incog. they make themselves look little; your little folks have nothing for it, therefore, upon such oc- casions but to look big. But I saw through them from the first, and glad am I that they have taken themselves off. Of course they could not stay in this place after such an exposure.”’ «And yet, if 1 remember rightly, it was but a day or two ago you described them all to me as be- ing ‘very tip-top people indeed.’ ”’ «Q—yes—true, Sir—that’s to say, they spent a good deal of money; but I never meant that they were gentlefolks. No, no,, Sir; my occupation sharpens a man’s wits; and, for my part, I have seen so much of the world, (as is natural in a place like Little Pedlington,) that can make out what people are with half an eye. Ahem!—TI think you told me yesterday, Sir, that you were not in the army—nor the navy—but that you—that you—” He hesitated, and paused. “I told you nothing on the subject.” «And 1 am sure you are not in the church, Sir, by your wearing a blue coat. No, no, Sir; Scorewell has seen too much of the world to be mistaken on these points.—Ahem!—l’ve heard it said, Sir, that the bar is a very fine profession; and I should think you ought to know. Sir.”LITTLE PEDLINGTON. 161 “| have no better means than any one else of knowing it,’’ replied I; resolved to throw him upon his own self-vaunted penetration for making me out. Having been at fault in the army and the navy, in divinity and law, he tried physic, the arts, science, commerce, each with no better success. “Very odd!” said he; “very: I’m confident, quite confident, Sir, yow have nothing to conceal’ (and this he said with a lengthened countenance and a suspecting look which belied his professions of con- fidence;) “ but—”’ “You asked me what wine I should choose to take,”’ said I, (pretending not to have noticed his hint.) “Let me have some claret. Good wine, I know, can only be obtained at a good price; and I have already seen enough of you, Scorewell, to be satisfied that I may trust to you for its quality.”’ “The best in Europe, Sir. No, no, Sir, as I said; quite sure you have nothing to conceal, for’’— (here was an adroit change of one little word)— ‘sfor, as I said to my wife, the moment you came into the house, ¢Aat is none of your shim-shammies.”’ «A time-serving rogue of an innkeeper even in virtuous Little Pedlington!” thought I, as I swal- lowed a couple of glasses of incontestable raspberry- juice. At the street-door was accosted by mine host. «“ Going to Mr. Rummins’s conversationy, 1 un- derstand, Sir. At what time shall I send the boy with the lantern to you, Sir?”’ ‘Send a boy with a lantern!”’ exclaimed I. | tS eS~ Pein SES eR ae mae eS RR acne Sa aa Ee Be > P ge. pea eee Se er Fie al IS Sa 7 ye png Mi DP 162 RESIDENCE IN “Why, Sir, Mr. Rummins’s parties are always very late—sometimes, indeed, they don’t break up much before eleven—and as we naturally don’t light the lamps in Little-Pedlington till after Mich- aelmas, and as there will be no moon to-night—’’ ‘“‘I’l] contrive to find my way home in the dark, Scorewell.”’ «As you please, Sir. Then,if you will have the kindness to ring the nighé-bell, Sir, you will find Boots sitting up for you, Sir.” OQ for the comforts and conveniences of a dear little country-town! Send a boy with a lantern! In London, now, one might break forty legs (if one had them) in the course of a walk home, on a dark night, for the want of such an accommodation. To be sure there zs a gas lamp here and there. Then again, to ring the nigfé-bell at eleven, when [ shall find poor Boots drowsily waiting to let mein! A volume could not say more in favour of the moral habits of these peaceful Pedlingtonians, than is im- plied by these few words. They have no time, in- deed, for vice or wickedness, great or small; for at an hour when the reprobate knockers of London are scarcely yet vocal for the nightly revel, hey are virtuously “ reclining’ (as Miss Cripps would ex- press it) “in the arms of Morpheus.’? But I must hasten to Mr. Rummins’s, Conversazione, which begins at sez. On my way thither indulged in the pleasing re- flection, that if any where a meeting of the kind could be free from the intrusion of the spleen, envy, malice, pretension, or affectation, it must be in such a place as this.LITTLE PEDLINGTON. 1638 ‘¢T stood in Venice on the Bridge of Sighs,’ says Childe Harold. With feelings not less strongly ex- cited, I apprehend, than his upon that occasion when, for the first time, he beheld the fairy city, did I find myself standing opposite to a small door on the first floor of Mr. Rummins’s house. Upon this door, which was the entrance to a small back room, was pasted a square bit of paper, bearing in Ger- man text, carefully written, the words RAM MEN SEAN MASEAR. The little girl who had conducted me up stairs (telling me by the way that Master and the com- pany were at tea in the museum) announced my ar- rival. The learned F. 8. A. received me with all the civility due to a subscriber for two large-paper copies of his work, and introduced me to each of the distinguished persons present. His appearance and manner, as well as his peculiar, but appropriate, mode of uttering and pronouncing his words, I have already attempted to describe. First of all I was intro-de-oos’d to—* One whom IJ am proud, Sir, to eall my son: Rummins the younger, conductor of that tremendous engine of power, the Little-Ped- lington Weekly Observer.’”? He added in a whis- per, ‘And marvellous is it, that the destinies of Europe should be controlled by one so young, he being barely twenty. His yesterday’s castigation of the Emperor of Russia cannot fail to produce ef- But more of this anon.”’ fects which=e BRET A. RLS Hae eS pace gore gE en, a 164 RESIDENCE IN Although I abstained from expressing it, my own private opinion nevertheless is, that there is nothing marvellous about the fact. For such a controller of destinies, whether they be the destinies of a people or a play-house, an autocrat or an actor, twenty is a mature age; and (whatever a fond father, in his par- tiality, may imagine to the contrary) the time gives it proof. Here and there, indeed, may be found one who, with childish timidity, has delayed to set upas a “Controller of destinies’ till, having lived long enough to see much, hear much, and learn much, and leisurely to compare and reflect, he at length conceives himself to bein some degree qualified for the undertaking. These, however, form but the ex- ceptions to the rule: consequently Mr. Rummins, the elder, may be assured that his son is not a Phe- nix in his generation. ‘Our Daubson,’’ continued the F. S. A., pursu- ing the ceremony of introduction; “ our Daubson, whom I find you know, as he informs me that—’’ « Yes,”’ said the painter, “he had the honour of sitting to me yesterday for his profile.”? ‘Then, with an uneasy recollection of my criticism upon it, he said to me, “The head thrown too much back, eh, Mister? If you have the work with you, we’ll by- and-by take the unbiassed opinion of all present upon that point; and we shall then see who will dare to pretend to know better than me.’’ “ Mr. Felix Hoppy, also, you have met before,’ continued Rummins. ‘Not in his capacity: of Master of the Ceremonies, which I esteem not, do I recieve him as my friend; but as he is the authorLITTLE PEDLINGTON. 165 of the Little Pedlington Guide, a work, Sir, which—”’ Mr. Hoppy blushed, bowed, drew his well-per- fumed handkerchief across his face, and entreated Mr. Rummins to “ spare him.” I was next presented to Miss Cripps (“ our Sap- pho,” as she was designated by Rummins) whose ex- quisite verses I copied into my journal from yester- day’s “ Observer.”? Miss C., tall and slender, and, apparently, on what I shall take the liber- ty of calling the sedate side of fifty. She was reclining back in her chair, her arms folded across her bosom, and her eyes fixed, with an air of ab- straction, on Mr. Rummins’s ceiling. Her counte- nance bore the traces of recent and still-existing sor- row. The Pedlington newspaper has recorded the loss of her bag. Dress—pink muslin gown, trim- med with pale blue ribands, yellow sash, shoes of red morocco, and a wreath of roses, crimson and yellow alternately, bound around her curly flaxen —[Private mem. Wig]—hair. Mr. Rummins proceeded. “Mr. Yawkins, the head of our bank; Mr. Snargate, the architect, of whom I need say no more than that he furnished the design for our new pump.” [Mr. Snargate drew himself up to the height of nearly five feet. ] “¢ Miss Jane Scrubbs, whose name is so universally 93 known that I fear my looks must have betrayed my culpable ignorance of so celebrated a name; for Mr. Rum- mins, drawing me a little aside, said, in an under- tone—“ My dear Sir!—Is it possible?-—Why, Sir, £5”166 RESIDENCE IN that lady is the Enaj Sbburcs, who does the cha- rades and conundrums for our newspaper. Ignorant ofhername! Bless my soul!—But, now, Sir—now —I am last of all to ¢n-tro-de-oos you to my illus- trious friend, the Reverend Jonathan Jubb—the Bard of Pepiineronia.”? (Here again followed what is theatrically termed an aside.) Simple in appearance, unaffected in manners—instead of the popular poet, you would be inclined to set him down for nothing more than one of yourselves—ahem! —rather than one of us. But. so it ever is with ge- nius of a high order.” And, truly, though contrary to my reasonable expectations, there sat the illustrious poet, neither attitudinizing nor sighing, nor looking either sad, solemn, or sentimental, nor in any manner striving after effect; but unaflectedly swallowing tea and munching hot muffins, with as much earnestness, as if (to repeat Rummins’s phrase) he had, indeed, been nothing more than one of ourselves! Shortly after the conclusion of the ceremony of introduction, Rummins desired his servant to “take away the tea-things.””? .“’Then,’’ said he, “I will exhibit to you the Rumminsian Collection.” The little girl having made the circuit of the room, and collected on a japanned waiter the emptied tea- cups, approached Miss Cripps; but Sappho,’ still rapt in meditation, did not observe her. Having for some time stood unheeded, the girl put her lips to Miss Cripps’s ear, and screamed—*“ done with your tea-cup, Ma’am?’’ Miss Cripps, startled, let drop her cup and saucer, both of which were demo-LITTLE PEDLINGTON. 167 lished by the fall, and drawing her hand across her forehead, exclaimed, with a sigh— “Tis gone, ’tis lost, the fairy chain is broken.” “ Yes, Madam,” angrily said the F.S.A., “and so is my crockery. I do wish, Miss Cripps, that for the future you would not fall into your poetic reye- ries till after tea. has occurred happened to be present.”’ Miss Cripps made no reply, but slowly shaking her head, patiently resumed her Madonna-like atti- tude. This is the fourth time the thing and always when a stranger has At the same moment, Enaj Sbdurcs, who also had been absorbed by meditation, though, as was presently shown, upon a subject infinitely more ab- struse, suddenly started from her chair and ex- claimed “ Pig’s pettitoes!”’ “ That’s it, that’s it!’’? cried the editor: adding, with a condescending nod to the lady——** Without flattery, Miss Scrubbs, there is no one in all Little- Pedlington who can approach voz in your own way; and my opinion upon these matters is, as you know ‘You overwhelm me, Mr. Rummins,’ Miss 8. sequence.” 3) 2 replied ‘‘ Your favourable judgment might well make any one proud—at least if one had not the good sense to know, that when one has passed a life in these studies a /i¢t/e superiority must be the con-ngs 168 RESIDENCE IN Miss Jane Scrubbs’s exclamation of “ Pig’s petti- toes,” neither the meaning nor the merit of which did I immediately perceive, was, as it was afterwards explained, the solution of an enigma, which had for the last five weeks baffled the ingenuity of all the wits of Little-Pedlington. The Rumminsian Collection is contained partly in an old-fashioned book-case with glazed doors, and partly in a corner-cupboard, on the shelves of which the various articles—amounting, I may ven- ture to say without fear of exaggerating, to eighty in number—are systematically arranged. In the department of natural history it is not remarkably rich, possessing only a stuffed lap-dog and parrot, a dried snake, a peacock’s tail, the skeleton of a mon- key, and the skin of a cat: the latter chiefly interest- ing from the circumstance of its original wearer hav- ing been, during fourteen years, the prime favourite of the antiquary’s grandmother. Indeed he himself admits that in this portion of his museum he cannot compete with the Zoo, meaning thereby their Zoo- logical-gardens. But in mineralogy he can boast of no fewer than a dozen specimens of ‘the ores of tin, copper, and iron, “all curious’? (as Rummins pro- foundly observed), “all curious, as showing you that sort of thing in a state of nature.”’ In Numismatics—for each compartment of the book-case and corner-cupboard is appropriately la- belled—in numismatics the museum contains, first, the “antique Roman coin’? which occasioned so flerce a controversy as to whether it were such, or,oe LITTLE PEDLINGTON. 169 in reality, nothing more than a plain William-and- Mary’s shilling—for the particulars of which vide Hoppy’s * Guide-book.” Secondly, a farthing, which Rummins pronounces to be one of the famous three of Queen Anne; boldly challenging the world to prove, from any internal evidence, the contrary —inasmuch as it is worn perfectly smooth on both sides. Third, and lastly, a medal (in form and size, and in general appearance, indeed, resembling those local tokens which many years ago were issued for the purpose of supplying a deficiency in the copper coinage), bearing on one side the head, and the name also, of Brutus (the Elder), and on the reverse a cap of liberty, with the figures1793. That it isa genu- ine medal of the time of the worthy whose effigies it bears, Mr. Rummins entertains not the smallest doubt; and with respect to the numerals (the only difficulty in the case), which by the ignorant might be mistaken for the date of the period when it was struck, the F.S.A. learnedly inquires—“ How is it possible for us, at this time of day, to tell what they meant by them?’’? The estimation in which these three objects are held by their fortunate possessor is sufficiently marked by the circumstance of each being carefully preserved beneath the inverted bow! of a broken wine-glass. «“ But we are now coming to that portion of the Rumminsian Museum,” said the exhibitor, “ upon which I chiefly pride myself—the Pedlingtonia Re- lies.”? The F.S.A. had been minute and elaborate—(I x - Ses ee ay = x Bees - PEAS Pam a i : oe 4 ae 5 PL Tat TON 22 OS EOP re SS et NS Rbene Rai PSUS 3p Saat TEAR at aero ine me — ane ; : NR ee I HT - PO EL EGS SSO ORE rat pine patie aren —_ se gp — Aaa a RUS Th Al Nah EN — ah pS aE a OIE PPS OS ES - - ‘ (LEE 170 RESIDENCE IN don’t mean prosy, as it will sometimes happen to the best-intentioned F.S.A. under similar circum- stances)—in describing each of the objects of curi- osity, as they were in succession exhibited to my astonished eyes. Fancied that in some of the party I perceived symptoms of weariness, and of impa- tience in others. The banker and the architect were fast asleep; Miss Cripps with folded arms was sigh- ing, and looking sonnets; Jubb drew from his pocket a huge manuscript, “a-hem’d,’’ and thrust it in again; Daubson audibly d ’d the museum, and - muttered “ The day-light will be gone before I can show my pictur;’? Hoppy appeared greatly in- clined to follow the example set by the banker; whilst the “controller of destinies’? and Enaj Sbbures were seated, literally ¢éte-d-¢éte, in the recess of a window, partly concealed by a curtain, making (I suppose) conundrums. The most remarkable of the Pedlingtonia Relics are the sliding-board of the old S¢ocks, and the handle of the old pump, upon each of which the F. S.A. expatiated lengthily and learnedly : easily di- gressing from the one—(remarking, by the way, on the horrors of the Bastile and the atrocities of the Inquisition)—to the cage which had lately been erected in the Market-Place; from the other to the Roman Aqueducts, Bernini’s Fountains, and our New Pump.” To the Military Antiquary the most interesting ob- jects in the Collection would be the two sword- blades and the cannon-ball, picked up in a ditch atSe ai LITTLE PEDLINGTON. 171 a short distance from the town; the time of King John. One is formed ex and the helmet of Of ‘the two sword-blades, actly like a sickle; the other be some resemblance to the blade of an old-fashioned carving knife, These circumstances suffi test their antiquity; for, as Mr. claimed, «“ Wheretdo y days!”? ars ciently at- R. triumphantly ex- Ou see such swords now-a- On the latter may still be traced these cu- rious remains of an ancient inscription: Lh-mps-n an-Co. —heff-eld. Of this, the learned himself despairs of finding confessing that its meaning is lost in the lapse of ages. The cannon-ball is of the stze of a four-and- twenty-pounder, but wonderfully light in I tion; not weighing more, indeed, than a hollow cis- tern-ball of the same circumference! Well might Mr. R. observe, “ The tooth of upon its very vitals.” Of the helmet of the time of King John, so curiously resembling a saucepan of the time of our own gracious King William, nothing in this place, as an accur will be found amongst the extr observer. Antiquary an explanation; modestly oropor- antiquity has preyed I need say ate description of it acts from the L. P. From these military remains the le Rummins clearly infers that, at some remote of our history, arned period the Pedlingtonians must have been engaged in a desperate conflict, in which prodigious numbers must have fallen on both sides, and that, at its termination, Victory must have been declared for the Pedlingtonians. To state the arguments by which these inferences were Supported would hardly be fair towards Mr, Rummins, since they are to ap- can 2 ee a paar RR cL Td be ples os:172 RESIDENCE IN ar in the new edition of his “ Antiquities;”” but I ally, that the arguments by which ibly, that which rove at all, were as antiquary- pe may observe gener he attempted to, prove incontrovert +t ig jncontro* J;elbly impossible to p as ingenious, and quite as convincing, arguments, in similar cases, usually are. The Rumminsian MSS., though not numerous, are rare. Of these the most interesting are— ist. A book containing nearly four hundred re- cipes (many of them unique) in cookery, confection- ery, medicine, &c. &c. &e.—ail in the handwriting of the antiquary’s late mother. 2d. A complete collection of Mr. Rummins’s own school copy-books. (‘ This,”’ as Mr. R. mo- destly observed, “ will scarcely be valued during my life-time.’’) 3d: Minutes of all the public proceedings in Lit- tle Pedlington during the last thirty years; together with biographical notices of all those who have served the offices of churchwarden and overseer within the same period. “This, I may say,’ said Mr. R., “isa work of profound research, and one which will be of eminent utility to the antiquary of future times. It contains, also, correct reports of all the debates occasioned by that spirit-stirring event, the abstraction of the pump- ladle—an event, Sir, concerning which (although it kept this town in a state of tremendous excitement for many months) I will venture to assert you have yet many interesting particulars to learn in London.”’ And lastly, carefully framed and glazed, the orl-LITTLE PEDLINGTON. 178 ginal draft, in his own hand-writing, of Mr. R.’s in- scription for the New Pump. There it is with all his erasures, additions, alterations, &c.! This inte- resting and valuable document he has bequeathed (as he informed me) to his native town, on condition that, at his death, it be placed over the chimney- piece of the vestry-room—there to remain for ever! Catherine II. promised a splendid reward to one of her emzssaries (as such disreputable cattle are styled in melo-dramas) if he should succeed in pro- curing (7d@ est, stealing) for her, from the Barberini Palace, the celebrated vase which is now in the British Museum. Remember this fact, ye vestry- men of Little Pedlington, and be vigilant. Thanked Mr. Rummins forthe gratification which the inspection of Ais museum had afforded me. Ob- served—perhaps for want of something better to say —that I had lately passed a morning in the British Museum. To this the F.S.A., locking the door of his corner-cupboard, and putting the key into his pocket, carelessly replied — « Aye—they have some curious things there, also.”’ << Come,’’ said Daubson, unable any longer to re- strain his impatience, “come; now there’s an end of that, you shall see my pictur.”’ « Pardon, my dear friend,”’ said Hoppy, (interpo- sing with master-of-the-ceremony-like gallantry) «¢ we must concede the paw to the ladies.”’ At the same moment the poetess cleared her voice, and the fair conundrumist smilingly drew a strip of 16We 9 epee aera ae EAS Td REELS Spe ee ene yee A gee oe re p 174 : RESIDENCE IN paper from her reticule; whilst the M. C., conti- nued:— | «‘ Miss Cripps has written a charming song—an exquisite little effusion—of which she intends to fa- vour us with a private hearing, and is «“ And you, I see, have brought your guitar to accompany it, Mr. Hoppy,” said Miss Scrubbs, an- grily; adding, with a sneer, (at the same time thrust- ing her paper back into her reticule,) “it is vastly polite of you to give the paw to the ladies.”’ “‘ How plaguily impatient some people are to show themselves off!’”? whispered the painter to the archi- tect. “ Contemptible vanity!’ replied the latter, in a simila¥ tone. ‘And then we shall have Jubb with his reading, and Rummins with Ads reading. I wish they were all at Jericho! The evening will be at an end before I can exhibit my great-plan for the improvement of Little Pedlington.”’ “¢ Now, my dear Miss Cripps, if you mean to sing, pray sing at once,’’ said Mr. Rummins the elder. «« My illustrious friend, Jubb, intends to read some specimens of a new work of his—after I have read a few from one of my own.”’ ; A good quarter of an hour was exhausted by Mr. Hoppy in tuning his guitar, and by Miss Cripps in protestations that she didn’t sing, couldn’t sing, never did sing—that she was hoarse, out of health, out of spirits, &c. &c. “ Besides,’’ she added, (and in a manner resembling an ill-made salad—that is to say, containing three vinegars to one oil,) “ besides,pee < LITTLE PEDLINGTON. 7s my effusion has nothing to recommend it but a lit- tle feeling—and sentiment—and imagination. I can’t pretend to such abstruse efforts as charades and enigmas.”’ ° Einaj Sbburcs bent her head in acknowledgement of the compliment. Then, turning to the editor, she whispered, “I wonder how Miss Cripps (who, certainly is not altogether an idiot) can be prevailed on to sing her own nonsensical verses!’’ Mr. Hoppy preluded. Miss Cripps mean time looked down upon her thumbs, and, having to sing, she very naturally, closed her teeth and lips; just leaving a small aperture at one corner of her mouth to sing through. The air being a well-known one, Miss Cripps’s own poetry formed, of course, the chief attraction of the performance. Thanks to the lady’s method of singing—-a method which, I am informed, is commonly taught in Little Pedlington— I can answer for it that the following copy of her “ exquisite little effusion”? is literally correct:— ‘¢Se tum sn ensm se, Me o sn tam seoo, To nm te a te me Pe tam ta o te poo.” And these words, running through five verses, she articulated with as much distinctness as if she had been regularly educated as a singer for the English Opera. To Mr. Hoppy, for the precision of his accom- paniment, too much praise cannot be given; for, whenever he was out, he requested the lady toSP tee RH Mh FO ze RR SA = 8S Sa 176 RESIDENCE IN ““stop”’ till he had fully satisfied himself that he had secured the right chord. Thanks to the fair poetess from all the party; though, from some of them (as I guessed from the bustle amongst them), they were tendered for that the conclusion of the performance gave them an op- portunity for a display of their own—each after its kind. Miss Scrubbs alone was silent: throughout the performance she was sleeping—or pretending to sleep. “Fine song! great genius!’ exclaimed the banker. “ How I envy people of talent!”? and he jingled the shillings in his pocket. Being seated between the poet and the antiquary, I whispered to the latter, that I was not prepared.to find in Mr. Hoppy (the author of so profound a work as the “ Little-Pedlington Guide’) a man of such various talents, or one possessing so many of the lighter accomplishments. “« Ffe’s a charming creature, Sir, replied Mr. Rum- mins. ‘ But what think you of his « Guide??—I ~ mean the historical and antiquarian portions of the work?”’ Here was an opportunity for me to show the F.S.A. that I was not altogether ignorant how I ought to behave myself at a literary conversazione. So I mumbled a reply which meant nothing in particular, but which I took care to render Zell- wng, by ringing the changes upon the custom- ary common-place exclamations—* learned!’ “ eru- dite!”’ “ profound!’? « deeply-searching!”’ “ widely- grasping!”’ and some others which I had heard de-LITTLE PEDLINGTON. “Fi livered, in the same manner, upon similar occa- sions. «You are an excellent critic, Sir,’ said Mr. Rum- mins; “ ¢hose portions of the work J wrote.” “ But what may be your notion, idea, or opinion of the descriptive parts of the book?” inquired Mr. Jubb. Here was another opportunity for me; so I pro- ceeded as before: merely varying my common- places with the occasion. These were now—* pic- turesque!”’ “ life-like!”’? “dioramic!”’ “ vivified!’ “ graphie!’’ “ spirit-stirring!’? &c. &c. &e.—taking care to thrust in at least six graphics to any one of the others. “Ahem! All the descriptive parts are mine,” said the illustrious author of “ Pedlingtonia!”’ «“ Then, pray, gentlemen,” inquired I, “if one of you wrote the descriptive portions of the work, the other the antiquarian and the historical, what was there left for the illustrious Hoppy to write?” «“ Nothing more, Sir, answered Rummins, “ no- thing more than a receipt for the sum of seven— pounds—ten, which he paid us for our joint la- bours.”’ So, then! I have encountered the perils of Pop- pleton-End, and tasted of the miseries of Squash- mire-gate, on my journey hitherward—a journey induced, in a great measure, by an earnest desire to look upon the eminent author of the “ Little-Ped- lington Guide,”? and what is my reward? What is it | behold? Strutting in all a peacock’s pride, with 16*ae SIR eter 178 RESIDENCE IN glittering plumage dazzling the eyes of the admiring world, a peacock we pronounce him: but, frail as it is false, his ostentatious tail, surrendering at a pull, is scattered by the wind, and lo! he stands confessed —a goose! Can London, in the plenitude of its quackery, furnish a parallel to this? «Speak, ye who best can tell!”? Answer me, A > 58 : C »D Ao prt ; yea, all of you to the very end of the alphabet, I challenge you to the reply—Can London, in the plenitude of its quackery, furnish a parallel to this? Eixpect the next piece of agreeable information I shall receive will be that Rummins < did not write his own” “ Antiquities,’ or Jubb his ‘ Pedling- tonia.’’ My unpleasant reflections interrupted by Miss Cripps, who beckoned me across the room to her, and requested my candid opinion of the verses she had just now sung. No request more common on such occasions, more flattering to the taste of the requestee, or more easily complied with. Answer- ed as before, but with the requisite variations, These were—