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diff --git a/old/orig5650-h/p5.htm b/old/orig5650-h/p5.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2a1d77f --- /dev/null +++ b/old/orig5650-h/p5.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2371 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<title>SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES, Part 5.</title> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> + +<style type="text/css"> + <!-- + body {background:#faebd7; margin:10%; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; } + HR { width: 33%; text-align: center; } + blockquote {font-size: 97% } + .figleft {float: left;} + .figright {float: right;} + .toc { margin-left: 15%; margin-bottom: 0em;} + CENTER { padding: 10px;} + // --> +</style> + +</head> +<body> + + + +<center> +<table summary="" cellPadding=4 border=3> +<tr><td> + + <a href="p4.htm">Previous Part</a> +</td><td> + <a href="5650-h.htm">Main Index</a> + +</td></tr> +</table> +</center> + +<br><br><br><br> + + + +<center><h1>SKETCHES BY SEYMOUR</h1></center> +<br><br> +<center><h2>PART FIVE</h2></center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<center><a name="Bookcover"></a><img alt="Bookcover.jpg (202K)" src="images/Bookcover.jpg" height="804" width="653"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + + +<center><a name="Spine angled"></a><img alt="Spine angled.jpg (88K)" src="images/Spine%20angled.jpg" height="1229" width="648"> +</center><br><br><br><br> + +<br><br><br><br> + +<center><a name="Title - Vol 2"></a><img alt="Title - Vol 2.jpg (90K)" src="images/Title%20-%20Vol%202.jpg" height="953" width="647"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + + +<center><a name="Title - Shooting"></a><img alt="Title - Shooting.jpg (68K)" src="images/Title%20-%20Shooting.jpg" height="1003" width="649"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + + + + +<blockquote><blockquote> +EBOOK EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION:<br><br> + +"Sketches by Seymour" was published in various versions about 1836. +The copy used for this PG edition has no date and was published by Thomas Fry, London. +Some of the 90 plates note only Seymour's name, many are inscribed "Engravings by +H. Wallis from sketches by Seymour." The printed book appears to be a compilation of five +smaller volumes. From the confused chapter titles the reader may well suspect the printer +mixed up the order of the chapters. The complete book in this +digital edition is split into five smaller volumes—the individual volumes +are of more manageable size than the 7mb complete version.<br><br> + +The importance of this collection is in the engravings. +The text is often mundane, is full of conundrums and puns +popular in the early 1800's—and is mercifully short. No author is +given credit for the text though the section titled, "The Autobiography +of Andrew Mullins" may give us at least his pen-name.<br><br> + DW<br> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + + + + +<br><br><br><br> + + + +<h2>CONTENTS:</h2> + +<center> +<table summary=""> +<tr><td> + + + + ANDREW MULLINS.</td></tr><tr><td> + —AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.</td></tr><tr><td> + CHAP. I. </td><td><a href="#Mullins1">Introductory </a> </td></tr><tr><td> + CHAP. II. </td><td><a href="#Mullins1">Let the neighbors smell ve has something</a></td></tr><tr><td> + CHAP. III. </td><td><a href="#Mullins3">I wou'dn't like to shoot her exactly</a></td></tr><tr><td> + CHAP. IV. </td><td><a href="#Mullins4">A Situation.</a></td></tr><tr><td> + CHAP. V. </td><td><a href="#Mullins5">The Stalking Horse.</a></td></tr><tr><td> + CHAP. VI. </td><td><a href="#Mullins6">A Commission.</a></td></tr><tr><td> + CHAP. VII. </td><td><a href="#Mullins7">The Cricket Match</a></td></tr><tr><td> + CHAP. VIII. </td><td><a href="#Mullins8">The Hunter.</a></td></tr><tr><td> + CHAP. IX. </td><td><a href="#Mullins9">A Row to Blackwall.</a></td></tr><tr><td> + CHAP. X. </td><td><a href="#Mullins10">The Pic-Nic.</a></td></tr><tr><td> + CHAP. XI. </td><td><a href="#Mullins11">The Journey Home.</a></td></tr><tr><td> + CHAP. XII. </td><td><a href="#Mullins12">Monsieur Dubois.</a></td></tr><tr><td> + CHAP. XIII. </td><td><a href="#Mullins13">My Talent Called into Active Service.</a></td></tr><tr><td> + CHAP. XIV. </td><td><a href="#Mullins14">A Dilemma.</a></td></tr><tr><td> + CHAP. XV. </td><td><a href="#Mullins15">An Old Acquaintance.</a></td></tr><tr><td> + CHAP. XVI. </td><td><a href="#Mullins16">The Loss of a Friend.</a></td></tr><tr><td> + CHAP. XVII. </td><td><a href="#Mullins17">Promotion.</a></td></tr><tr><td> + </td></tr><tr><td> + A RIGMAROLE.</td></tr><tr><td> + PART I. </td><td><a href="#Rigmarole1">"De omnibus rebus."</a></td></tr><tr><td> + PART II. </td><td><a href="#Rigmarole2">"Acti labores Sunt jucundi"</a></td></tr><tr><td> + PART III. </td><td><a href="#Rigmarole3">"Oderunt hilarem tristes."</a></td></tr><tr><td> + </td></tr><tr><td> + INTERCEPTED LETTER</td></tr><tr><td> + PLATE I. </td><td><a href="#Intercepted Letter1">Dye think ve shall be in time for the hunt?</a></td></tr><tr><td> + PLATE II. </td><td><a href="#Intercepted Letter2">Vat a rum chap to go over the 'edge that vay!</a> + + +</td></tr> +</table> +</center> + + +<br><br><br><br> +<br><br><br><br> + + +<center><h1>ANDREW MULLINS.<br>—AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.</h1></center> + + +<br><br><br><br><br><br> + +<center><h2>CHAPTER I.—Introductory.</h2></center> +<br><br> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p><i>"Let the neighbors smell ve has something respectable for once."</i> +</blockquote></blockquote> +<br><br> + +<center><a name="Mullins1"></a><img alt="Mullins1.jpg (62K)" src="images/Mullins1.jpg" height="905" width="599"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>THERE is certainly no style of writing requiring so much modest +assurance as autobiography; a position which, I am confident, neither +Lord Cherbury, nor Vidocq, or any other mortal blessed with an equal +developement of the organ of self-esteem, can or could deny. + +<p>HOME, ("sweet home,")—in his Douglas—gives, perhaps, one of the most +concise and concentrated specimens extant, of this species of +composition. With what an imposing air does his youthful hero blow his +own trumpet in those well-known lines, commencing, + + + <center><p>"My name is Norval."</center> + + +<p>Although a mere cock-boat in comparison with these first-rates, I +think I may safely follow in their wake. Should the critics, however, +condescend to carp at me for likening myself to a cock-boat, I have no +objection, if by a twist of their ingenuity, they can prove me to be a +little funny! + +<p>Economy was one of the most prominent characteristics of the family +from which I sprang. Now, some authors would weary their indulgent +readers with a flatulent chapter upon the moral beauty of this virtue; +but as my first wish is to win favor by my candor, I must honestly +confess, that necessity was the parent of this lean attenuated +offspring!—For, alas! + +<p>My 'angel mother,' (as Anna Maria phrases it,) was a woman of ten +thousand, for she dwelt in one of the most populous districts of London! +My sire, was of the most noble order of St. Crispin; and though he had +many faults, was continually mending—being the most eminent cobbler in +the neighbourhood. + +<p>Even in the outset of their connubial partnership, they started under +the most favorable auspices—for, whereas other couples marry for love or +money, they got married for 'nothing' taking advantage of the annual +gratuitous splicings performed at Shoreditch Church on one sunshiny +Easter Monday. + +<p>In less than three years my amiable mother presented her lord and +master with as many interesting pledges of their affection—I was the +cobbler's last—and + +<center><p>'Though last, not least, in their dear love.'</center> + + + +<br><br><br><br><br><br> + +<center><h2>CHAPTER II.—Our Lodging.</h2></center> +<br><br> + + +<p>OUR precarious means were too small to permit us to rent a house, we +therefore rented one large room, which served us for— + + + <center><p>"Parlor and kitchen and all!"</center> + + +<p>in the uppermost story of a house, containing about a dozen families. + +<p>This 'airy' apartment was situated in a narrow alley of great +thoroughfare, in the heart of the great metropolis. + +<p>The lower part of this domicile was occupied by one James, who did +'porter's work,' while his wife superintended the trade of a +miscellaneous store, called a green-grocer's; although the stock +comprised, besides a respectable skew of cabbages, carrots, lettuces, and +other things in season, a barrel of small beer, a side of bacon, a few +red herrings, a black looking can of 'new milk,' and those less +perishable articles, Warren's blacking, and Flanders' bricks; while the +window was graced with a few samples of common confectionary, celebrated +under the sweet names of lollypops, Buonaparte's ribs, and bulls'-eyes. + +<p>In one pane, by permission, was placed the sign board of my honored +parent, informing the reading public, that + + +<center><p>'Repairs were neatly executed!'</center> + + +<p>In my mind's eye how distinctly do I behold that humble shop in all +the greenness and beauty of its Saturday morning's display. + +<p>Nor can I ever forget the kind dumpy motherly Mrs. James, who so often +patted my curly head, and presented me with a welcome slice of bread and +butter and a drink of milk, invariably repeating in her homely phrase, "a +child and a chicken is al'ays a pickin'"—and declaring her belief, that +the 'brat' got scarcely enough to "keep life and soul together"—the real +truth of which my craving stomach inwardly testified. + +<p>Talk of the charities of the wealthy, they are as 'airy nothings' in +the scale, compared with the unostentatious sympathy of the poor! The +former only give a portion of their excess, while the latter willingly +divide their humble crust with a fellow sufferer. + +<p>The agreeable routine of breakfast, dinner, tea, and supper, was +unknown in our frugal establishment; if we obtained one good meal a day, +under any name, we were truly thankful. + +<p>To give some idea of our straitened circumstances, I must relate one +solitary instance of display on the maternal side. It was on a Saturday +night, the air and our appetites were equally keen, when my sire, having +unexpectedly touched a small sum, brought home a couple of pound of real +Epping. A scream of delight welcomed the savory morsel. + +<p>A fire was kindled, and the meat was presently hissing in the borrowed +frying-pan of our landlady. + +<p>I was already in bed, when the unusual sound and savor awoke me. I +rolled out in a twinkling, and squatting on the floor, watched the +culinary operations with greedy eyes. + +<p>"Tom," said my mother, addressing her spouse, "set open the door and +vinder, and let the neighbors smell ve has something respectable for +once." + + +<br><br><br><br><br><br> + +<center><h2>CHAPTER. III.—On Temperance.</h2></center> +<br><br> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p><i>"I wou'dn't like to shoot her exactly; but I've a blessed mind to turn +her out!"</i> +</blockquote></blockquote> +<br><br> + +<center><a name="Mullins3"></a><img alt="Mullins3.jpg (64K)" src="images/Mullins3.jpg" height="957" width="639"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p> +ARMED with the authority and example of loyalty, for even that renowned +monarch—Old King Cole—was diurnally want to call for + + + <center><p>"His pipe and his glass"</center> + + +<p>and induced by the poetical strains of many a bard, from the classic +Anacreon to those of more modern times, who have celebrated the virtue of + + + <center><p>"Wine, mighty wine!"</center> + + +<p>it is not to be marvelled at, that men's minds have fallen victims to +the fascinations of the juice of the purple grape, or yielded to the +alluring temptations of the 'evil spirit.' + +<p>It is a lamentable truth, that notwithstanding the laudable and +wholesome exertions and admonitions of the Temperance and Tee-total +Societies, that the people of the United Kingdom are grievously addicted +to an excessive imbibation of spirituous liquors, cordials, and +compounds. + +<p>Although six-bottle men are now regarded as monstrosities, and +drinking parties are nearly exploded, tippling and dram-drinking among +the lower orders are perhaps more indulged in than ever. + +<p>The gilded and gorgeous temples—devoted to the worship of the +reeling-goddess GENEVA—blaze forth in every quarter of the vast +metropolis. + +<p>Is it matter of wonder, then, that while men of superior intellect and +education are still weak enough to seek excitement in vinous potations, +that the vulgar, poor, and destitute, should endeavour to drown their +sorrows by swallowing the liquid fires displayed under various names, by +the wily priests of Silenus! + +<p>That such a deduction is illogical we are well aware, but great +examples are plausible excuses to little minds. + +<p>Both my parents were naturally inclined to sobriety; but, +unfortunately, and as it too frequently happens, in low and crowded +neighbourhoods, drunkenness is as contagious as the small-pox, or any +other destructive malady. + +<p>Now, it chanced that in the first-floor of the house in which we +dwelt, there also resided one Stubbs and his wife. They had neither +chick nor child. Stubbs was a tailor by trade, and being a first-rate +workman, earned weekly a considerable sum; but, like too many of his +fraternity, he was seldom sober from Saturday night until Wednesday +morning. His loving spouse 'rowed in the same boat'—and the 'little +green-bottle' was dispatched several times during the days of their +Saturnalia, to be replenished at the never-failing fountain of the +'Shepherd and Flock.' + +<p>Unhappily, in one of her maudlin fits, Mrs. Stubbs took a particular +fancy to my mother; and one day, in the absence of the 'ninth,' beckoned +my unsuspecting parent into her sittingroom,—and after gratuitously +imparting to her the hum-drum history of her domestic squabbles, invited +her to take a 'drop o' summat'—to keep up her I sperrits.' + +<p>Alas! this was the first step—and she went on, and on, and on, until +that which at first she loathed became no longer disagreeable, and by +degrees grew into a craving that was irresistible;—and, at last, she +regularly hob-and-nobb'd' with the disconsolate rib of Stubbs, and shared +alike in all her troubles and her liquor. + +<p>Fain would I draw a veil over this frailty of my unfortunate parent; +but, being conscious that veracity is the very soul and essence of +history, I feel myself imperatively called upon neither to disguise nor +to cancel the truth. + +<p>My father remonstrated in vain-the passion had already taken too deep +a hold; and one day he was suddenly summoned from his work with the +startling information, that 'Mother Mullins'—(so the kind neighbour +phrased it) was sitting on the step of a public house, in the suburbs, +completely 'tosticated.' + +<p>He rushed out, and found the tale too true. A bricklayer in the +neighbourhood proposed the loan of his barrow, for the poor senseless +creature could not walk a step. Placing her in the one-wheel-carriage, +he made the best of his way home, amid the jeers of the multitude. +Moorfields was then only partially covered with houses; and as he passed +a deep hollow, on the side of which was placed a notice, intimating that + + <center><h3>"RUBBISH MAY BE SHOT HERE!"</h3></center> + +<p>his eyes caught the words, and in the bitterness of his heart he +exclaimed— + +<p>"I wou'dn't like to shoot her exactly; but I've a blessed mind to turn +her out!" + + + +<br><br><br><br><br><br> + +<center><h2>CHAPTER IV.—A Situation.</h2></center> +<br><br> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p><i>"I say, Jim, what birds are we most like now?" +"Why swallows, to be sure,"</i> +</blockquote></blockquote> +<br><br> + +<center><a name="Mullins4"></a><img alt="Mullins4.jpg (94K)" src="images/Mullins4.jpg" height="903" width="645"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p> +IN the vicinity of our alley were numerous horse-rides, and my chief +delight was being entrusted with a horse, and galloping up and down the +straw-littered avenue.—I was about twelve years of age, and what was +termed a sharp lad, and I soon became a great favourite with the ostlers, +who admired the aptness with which I acquired the language of the +stables. + +<p>There were many stock-brokers who put up at the ride; among others was +Mr. Timmis—familiarly called long Jim Timmis. He was a bold, dashing, +good-humoured, vulgar man, who was quite at home with the ostlers, +generally conversing with them in their favourite lingo. + +<p>I had frequent opportunities of shewing him civilities, handing him +his whip, and holding his stirrup, etc. + +<p>One day he came to the ride in a most amiable and condescending +humour, and for the first time deigned to address me—"Whose kid are +you?" demanded he. + +<p>"Father's, sir," I replied. + +<p>"Do you know your father, then?" + +<p>"Yes, sir." + +<p>"A wise child this;" and he winked at the ostler, who, of course, +laughed incontinently. + +<p>"I want a-lad," continued he; "what do you say—would you like to +serve me?" + +<p>"If I could get any thing by it." + +<p>"D-me, if that a'int blunt." + +<p>"Yes, sir; that's what I mean." + +<p>"Mean! mean what?" + +<p>"If I could get any blunt, sir." + +<p>Hereupon he laughed outright, at what he considered my readiness, +although I merely used the cant term for "money," to which I was most +accustomed, from my education among the schoolmasters of the ride. + +<p>"Here, take my card," said he; "and tell the old codger, your father, +to bring you to my office to-morrow morning, at eleven." + +<p>"Well, blow me," exclaimed my friend the ostler, "if your fortin' +arn't made; I shall see you a tip-top sawyer—may I never touch another +tanner! Vy, I remembers Jim Timmis hisself vos nothin but a grubby +boy—Mother Timmis the washer-woman's son, here in +what-d've-call-'em-court—ven he vent to old Jarvis fust. He's a prime feller tho', and no +mistake—and thof he's no gentleman born, he pays like one, and vot's the +difference?" + +<p>The next morning, punctual to the hour, I waited at his office, which +was in a large building adjoining the Stock Exchange, as full as a +dove-cot, with gentlemen of the same feather. + +<p>"O!" said he, eyeing my parent, "and you're this chap's father, are +you? What are you?" + +<p>"A boot and shoe-maker, sir; and my Andrew is an honest lad." + +<p>"For the matter o' that, there's little he can prig here;" replied my +elegant and intended master. "But his tongs—eh—old fellow—can't you +rig him out a little?" + +<p>My father pleaded poverty; and at last he bargained to advance a +guinea, and deduct it out of my weekly-wages of two and sixpence, and no +board. My father was glad to make any terms, and the affair was +consequently soon arranged. I was quickly fitted out, and the next +morning attended his orders. + +<p>I had, however, little else to do than wait in his office, and run to +the Stock Exchange, to summon him when a customer dropped in. I had much +leisure, which I trust was not wholly thrown away, for I practised +writing on the back of the stock-receipts, of which a quantity hung up in +the office, and read all the books I could lay my hands on; although, I +must confess, the chief portion of my knowledge of the world has been +derived from observation. + + + <center><p>"The proper study of mankind is man."</center> + + +<p>Although quick in temper, and rude in speech and manners, Timmis was +kind; and, if he had a failing, it was the ambition of being a patron; +and he was certainly not one of those who do a good deed, and + + <center><p>"Blush to find it fame."</center> + +<p>He not only employed my father to make his boots, but recommended him +to all his friends as a "good-fit," and procured the old man some +excellent customers. Among his acquaintance, for he had few friends, was +Tom Wallis, a fat, facetious man, about forty, with whom he was always +lunching and cracking his jokes. One day, when the stocks were "shut" +and business was slack, they started together on a sporting excursion +towards the romantic region of Hornsey-wood, on which occasion I had the +honour of carrying a well-filled basket of provisions, and the inward +satisfaction of making a good dinner from the remnants. + +<p>They killed nothing but time, yet they were exceedingly merry, +especially during the discussion of the provisions. Their laughter, +indeed, was enough to scare all the birds in the neighbourhood. + +<p>"Jim, if you wanted to correct those sheep yonder," said Tom, "what +sort of tool would you use?" + +<p>"An ewe-twig, of course," replied my master. + +<p>"No; that's devilish good," said Wallis; "but you ain't hit it yet." + +<p>"For a crown you don't do a better?" + +<p>"Done!" + +<p>"Well, what is it?" + +<p>"Why, a Ram-rod to be sure—as we're sportsmen." + +<p>My master agreed that it was more appropriate, and the good-natured +Tom Wallis flung the crown he had won to me. + +<p>"Here's another," continued he, as Mr. Timmis was just raising a +bottle of pale sherry to his lips—"I say, Jim, what birds are we most +like now?" + +<p>"Why swallows, to be sure," quickly replied my patron; who was really, +on most occasions, a match for his croney in the sublime art of punning, +and making conundrums, a favourite pastime with the wits of the Stock +Exchange. + + + +<br><br><br><br><br><br> + +<center><h2>CHAPTER V.—The Stalking Horse.</h2></center> +<br><br> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p><i>"Retributive Justice"</i> +</blockquote></blockquote> +<br><br> + +<center><a name="Mullins5"></a><img alt="Mullins5.jpg (77K)" src="images/Mullins5.jpg" height="989" width="649"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p> +ON the same landing where Timmis (as he termed it) 'held out,' were five +or six closets nick-named offices, and three other boys. One was the +nephew of the before-mentioned Wallis, and a very imp of mischief; +another, only a boy, with nothing remarkable but his stupidity; while the +fourth was a scrubby, stunted, fellow, about sixteen or seventeen years +of age, with a long pale face, deeply pitted with the small-pox, and an +irregular crop of light hair, most unscientifically cut into tufts. + +<p>He, by reason of his seniority and his gravity, soon became the oracle +of the party. We usually found him seated on the stairs of the first +floor, lost in the perusal of some ragged book of the marvellous +school—scraps of which he used to read aloud to us, with more unction than +propriety, indulging rather too much in the note of admiration style; for +which he soon obtained the name of Old Emphatic!—But I must confess we +did obtain a great deal of information from his select reading, and were +tolerably good listeners too, notwithstanding his peculiar delivery, for +somehow he appeared to have a permanent cold in his head, which sometimes +threw a tone of irresistible ridicule into his most pathetic bits. + +<p>He bore the scriptural name of Matthew and was, as he informed us, a +'horphan'—adding, with a particular pathos, 'without father or mother!' +His melancholy was, I think, rather attributable to bile than +destitution, which he superinduced by feeding almost entirely on +'second-hand pastry,' purchased from the little Jew-boys, who hawk about their +'tempting' trash in the vicinity of the Bank. + +<p>Matthew, like other youths of a poetical temperament, from Petrarch +down to Lord Byron, had a 'passion.' + +<p>I accidentally discovered the object of his platonic flame in the +person of the little grubby-girl—the servant of the house-keeper—for, +as the proverb truly says, + + <center><p>"Love and a cough cannot be hid."</center> + +<p>The tender passion first evinced itself in his delicate +attentions;—nor was the quick-eyed maid slow to discover her conquest. Her +penetration, however, was greater than her sympathy. With a tact that +would not have disgraced a politician—in a better cause, she adroitly +turned the swelling current of his love to her own purposes. + +<p>As the onward flowing stream is made to turn the wheel, while the +miller sings at the window, so did she avail herself of his strength to +do her work, while she gaily hummed a time, and sadly 'hummed' poor +Matthew. + +<p>There being nearly thirty offices in the building, there were of +course in winter as many fires, and as many coal-scuttles required. When +the eyes of the devoted Matthew gazed on the object of his heart's desire +toiling up the well-stair, he felt he knew not what; and, with a heart +palpitating with the apprehension that his proffered service might be +rejected (poor deluded mortal!), he begged he might assist her. With a +glance that he thought sufficient to ignite the insensible carbon, she +accepted his offer. Happy Matthew!—he grasped the handles her warm +red-hands had touched!—Cold-blooded, unimaginative beings may deride his +enthusiasm; but after all, the sentiment he experienced was similar to, +and quite as pure, as that of Tom Jones, when he fondled Sophia Western's +little muff. + +<p>But, alas!— + + <center><p>"The course of true love never did run smooth."</center> + +<p>Two months after this event, 'his Mary' married the baker's man!— + + <center><p>* * * * * * * * * *</center> + +<p>Wallis's nephew had several times invited me to pay him a visit at his +uncle's house, at Crouchend; and so once, during the absence of that +gentleman who was ruralizing at Tonbridge, I trudged down to his villa. + +<p>Nothing would suit Master John, but that he must 'have out' his +uncle's gun; and we certainly shot at, and frightened, many sparrows. + +<p>He was just pointing at a fresh quarry, when the loud crow of a cock +arrested his arm. + +<p>"That's Doddington's game 'un, I know," said Master John. "What d'ye +think—if he did'nt 'pitch into' our 'dunghill' the other day, and laid +him dead at a blow. I owe him one!—Come along." I followed in his +footsteps, and soon beheld Chanticleer crowing with all the ostentation +of a victor at the hens he had so ruthlessly widowed. A clothes-horse, +with a ragged blanket, screened us from his view; and Master'John, +putting the muzzle of his gun through a hole in this novel ambuscade, +discharged its contents point blank into the proclaimer of the morn—and +laid him low. + +<p>I trembled; for I felt that we had committed a 'foul murder.' Master +Johnny, however, derided my fears—called it retributive justice—and +ignominiously consigned the remains of a game-cock to a dunghill! + +<p>The affair appeared so like a cowardly assassination, in which I was +(though unwillingly—) 'particeps criminis'—that I walked away without +partaking of the gooseberry-pie, which he had provided for our supper. + + +<br><br><br><br><br><br> + +<center><h2>CHAPTER VI.—A Commission.</h2></center> +<br><br> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p><i>"Och! thin, Paddy, what's the bothuration; if you carry me, don't I +carry the whiskey, sure, and that's fair and aqual!"</i> +</blockquote></blockquote> +<br><br> + +<center><a name="Mullins6"></a><img alt="Mullins6.jpg (63K)" src="images/Mullins6.jpg" height="987" width="649"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p> +I was early at my post on the following morning, being particularly +anxious to meet with Mr. Wallis's scapegrace nephew, and ascertain +whether anybody had found the dead body of the game-cock, and whether an +inquest had been held; for I knew enough of the world to draw my own +conclusions as to the result. He, although the principal, being a +relative, would get off with a lecture, while I should probably be kicked +out of my place. + +<p>In a fever of expectation, I hung over the banisters of the +geometrical staircase, watching for his arrival. + +<p>While I was thus occupied, my nerves "screwed up,"—almost to +cracking, Mr. Wallis's office-door was thrown open, and I beheld that +very gentleman's round, pleasant physiognomy, embrowned by his travels, +staring me full in the face. I really lost my equilibrium at the +apparition. + +<p>"Oh!—it's you, is it," cried he. "Where's my rascal?" + +<p>"He's not come yet, sir," I replied. + +<p>"That fellow's never at hand when I want him—I'll cashier him by +___." He slammed to his own door, and—opened it again immediately. + +<p>"Timmis come?" demanded he. + +<p>"No, sir; I don't think he'll be here for an hour." + +<p>"True—I'm early in the field; but what brings you here so soon?—some +mischief, I suppose." + +<p>"I'm always early, sir, for I live hard by." + +<p>"Ha!—well—I wish—." + +<p>"Can I do anything for you, sir?" I enquired. + +<p>"Why, that's a good thought," said he, and his countenance assumed its +usually bland expression. "Let me see—I want to send my carpet-bag, and +a message, to my housekeeper." + +<p>"I can do it, sir, and be back again in no time," cried I, elated at +having an opportunity of obliging the man whom I had really some cause to +fear, in the critical situation in which his nephew's thoughtlessness had +placed me. + +<p>In my eagerness, however, and notwithstanding the political acuteness +of my manoeuvre, I got myself into an awful dilemma. Having received the +bag, and his message, I walked off, but had scarcely descended a dozen +stairs when he recalled me. + +<p>"Where the devil are you going?" cried he. + +<p>"To your house, sir," I innocently replied. + +<p>"What, do you know it, then?" demanded he in surprise. + +<p>Here was a position. It was a miracle that I did not roll over the +carpet-bag and break my neck, in the confusion of ideas engendered by +this simple query. + +<p>I could not lie, and evasion was not my forte. A man or boy in the +wrong can never express himself with propriety; an opinion in which +Quinctilian also appears to coincide, when he asserts— + + <center><p>"Orator perfectus nisi vir bonus esse non potest."</center> + +<p>I therefore summoned up sufficient breath and courage to answer him in +the affirmative. + +<p>"And when, pray, were you there?" said he. + +<p>"Yesterday, sir, your nephew asked me to come and see him." + +<p>"The impudent little blackguard?" cried he. + +<p>"I hope you ain't angry, sir?" + +<p>"Angry with you?—no, my lad; you're an active little chap, and I wish +that imp of mine would take a pattern by you. Trot along, and mind you +have 'a lift' both ways." + +<p>Off I went, as light as a balloon when the ropes are cut. + +<p>I executed my commission with dispatch, and completely won the favour +of Mr. Wallis, by returning the money which he had given me for +coach-hire. + +<p>"How's this?—you didn't tramp, did you?" said he. + +<p>"No, sir, I rode both ways," I replied; "but I knew the coachmen, and +they gave me a cast for nothing." + +<p>"Umph!—well, that's quite proper—quite proper," said he, considering +a moment. "Honesty's the best policy." + +<p>"Father always told me so, sir." + +<p>"Your father's right;—there's half-a-crown for you." + +<p>I was delighted— + + <center><p>"Quantum cedat virtutibus aurum;"</center> + +<p>and I felt the truth of this line of Dr. Johnson's, although I was +then ignorant of it. I met his nephew on the landing, but my fears had +vanished. We talked, however, of the departed bird, and he wished me, in +the event of discovery, to declare that I had loaded and carried the gun, +and that he would bear the rest of the blame. + +<p>This, however, strongly reminded me of the two Irish smugglers:—one +had a wooden leg, and carried the cask; while his comrade, who had the +use of both his pins, bore him upon his shoulders, and, complaining of +the weight, the other replied:—"Och! thin, Paddy, what's the +bothuration; if you carry me, don't I carry the whiskey, sure, and that's +fair and aqual!" and I at once declined any such Hibernian partnership in +the affair, quite resolved that he should bear the whole onus upon his +own shoulders. + + +<br><br><br><br><br><br> + +<center><h2>CHAPTER, VII.—The Cricket Match</h2></center> +<br><br> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p><i>"Out! so don't fatigue yourself, I beg, sir."</i> +</blockquote></blockquote> +<br><br> + +<center><a name="Mullins7"></a><img alt="Mullins7.jpg (65K)" src="images/Mullins7.jpg" height="966" width="649"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>I soon discovered that my conduct had been reported in the most +favourable colours to Mr. Timmis, and the consequence was that he began +to take more notice of me. + +<p>"Andrew, what sort of a fist can you write?" demanded he. I shewed +him some caligraphic specimens. + +<p>"D___ me, if your y's and your g's hav'nt tails like skippingropes. +We must have a little topping and tailing here, and I think you'll do. +Here, make out this account, and enter it in the book." + +<p>He left me to do his bidding; and when he returned from the +Stock-Exchange, inspected the performance, which I had executed with perspiring +ardour. + +<p>I watched his countenance. "That'll do—you're a brick! I'll make a +man of you—d___ me." + +<p>From this day forward I had the honour of keeping his books, and +making out the accounts. I was already a person of importance, and +certainly some steps above the boys on the landing. + +<p>I did not, however, obtain any advance in my weekly wages; but on +"good-days" got a douceur, varying from half a crown to half a sovereign! +and looked upon myself as a made man. Most of the receipts went to my +father; whatever he returned to me I spent at a neighbouring book-stall, +and in the course of twelve months I possessed a library of most amusing +and instructive literature,—Heaven knows! of a most miscellaneous +character, for I had no one to guide me in the selection. + +<p>Among Mr. Timmis's numerous clients, was one Mr. Cornelius Crobble, a +man of most extraordinary dimensions; he was also a "chum" of, and +frequently made one of a party with, his friend Mr. Wallis, and other +croneys, to white-bait dinners at Blackwall, and other intellectual +banquets. In fact, he seldom made his appearance at the office, but the +visit ended in an engagement to dine at some "crack-house" or other. The +cost of the "feed," as Mr. Timmis termed it, was generally decided by a +toss of "best two and three;" and somehow it invariably happened that Mr. +Crobble lost; but he was so good-humoured, that really it was a pleasure, +as Mr. Wallis said, to "grub" at his expense. + +<p>They nick-named him Maximo Rotundo—and he well deserved the title. + +<p>"Where's Timmis?" said he, one day after he had taken a seat, and +puffed and blowed for the space of five minutes—"Cuss them stairs; +they'll be the death o' me." + +<p>I ran to summon my master. + +<p>"How are you, old fellow?" demanded Mr. Timmis; "tip us your fin." + +<p>"Queer!" replied Mr. Crobble,—tapping his breast gently with his fat +fist, and puffing out his cheeks—to indicate that his lungs were +disordered. + +<p>"What, bellows to mend?" cried my accomplished patron—"D___ me, never +say die!" + +<p>"Just come from Doctor Sprawles: says I must take exercise; no malt +liquor—nothing at breakfast—no lunch—no supper." + +<p>"Why, you'll be a skeleton—a transfer from the consolidated to the +reduced in no time," exclaimed Mr. Timmis; and his friend joined in the +laugh. + +<p>"I was a-thinking, Timmis—don't you belong to a cricketclub?" + +<p>"To be sure." + +<p>—"Of joining you." + +<p>"That's the ticket," cried Timmis—"consider yourself elected; I can +carry any thing there. I'm quite the cock of the walk, and no mistake. +Next Thursday's a field-day—I'll introduce you. Lord! you'll soon be +right as a trivet." + +<p>Mr Wallis was summoned, and the affair was soon arranged; and I had +the gratification of being present at Mr. Crobble's inauguration. + +<p>It was a broiling day, and there was a full field; but he conducted +himself manfully, notwithstanding the jokes of the club. He batted +exceedingly well, "considering," as Mr. Wallis remarked; but as for the +"runs," he was completely at fault. + +<p>He only attempted it once; but before he had advanced a yard or two, +the ball was caught; and the agile player, striking the wicket with ease, +exclaimed, amid the laughter of the spectators—"Out! so don't fatigue +yourself, I beg, sir." + +<p>And so the match was concluded, amid cheers and shouting, in which the +rotund, good-natured novice joined most heartily. + + + +<br><br><br><br><br><br> + +<center><h2>CHAPTER VIII.—The Hunter.</h2></center> +<br><br> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p><i>"Hunting may be sport, says I, but I'm blest if its pleasure."</i> +</blockquote></blockquote> +<br><br> + +<center><a name="Mullins8"></a><img alt="Mullins8.jpg (64K)" src="images/Mullins8.jpg" height="820" width="651"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p> +Two days after the cricket-match, Mr. Crobble paid a visit to my master. + +<p>"Well, old fellow, d___ me me, if you ain't a trump—how's your wind?"—kindly enquired Mr. Timmis. + +<p>"Vastly better, thank'ye; how's Wallis and the other fellows?—prime +sport that cricketing." + +<p>"Yes; but, I say, you'll never have 'a run' of luck, if you stick to +the wicket so." + +<p>"True; but I made a hit or two, you must allow," replied Mr. Crobble; +"though I'm afraid I'm a sorry member." + +<p>"A member, indeed!—no, no; you're the body, and we're the—members," +replied Mr. Timmis, laughing; "but, halloo! what's that patch on your +forehead—bin a fighting?" + +<p>"No; but I've been a hunting," said Mr. Crobble, "and this here's the +fruits—You know my gray?" + +<p>"The nag you swopp'd the bay roadster for with Tom Brown?" + +<p>"Him," answered Crobble. "Well, I took him to Hertfordshire Wednesday +last—" + +<p>"He took you, you mean." + +<p>"Well, what's the odds?" + +<p>"The odds, why, in your favour, to be sure, as I dare say the horse +can witness." + +<p>"Well, howsomever, there was a good field—and off we went. The level +country was all prime; but he took a hedge, and nearly julked all the +life out o' me. I lost my stirrup, and should have lost my seat, had'nt +I clutched his mane—" + +<p>"And kept your seat by main force?" + +<p>"Very good." + +<p>"Well, away we went, like Johnny Gilpin. Hunting may be sport, says +I, but I'm blest if its pleasure. This infernal horse was always fond of +shying, and now he's going to shy me off; and, ecod! no sooner said than +done. Over his head I go, like a rocket." + +<p>"Like a foot-ball, you mean," interrupted Mr. Timmis. + +<p>"And, as luck would have it, tumbles into a ditch, plump with my head +agin the bank." + +<p>"By jingo! such a 'run' upon the bank was enough to break it," cried +my master, whose propensity to crack a joke overcame all feeling of +sympathy for his friend. + +<p>"It broke my head though; and warn't I in a precious mess—that's +all—up to my neck, and no mistake—and black as a chimney-sweep—such mud!" + +<p>"And only think of a man of your property investing his substance in +mud! That is a good 'un!—Andrew," said he, "tell Wally to come here." +I summoned his crony, and sat myself down to the books, to enjoy the +sportive sallies of the two friends, who roasted the 'fat buck,' their +loving companion, most unmercifully. + +<p>"You sly old badger," cried Wallis, "why, you must have picked out the +ditch." + +<p>"No, but they picked out me, and a precious figure I cut—I can tell +you—I was dripping from top to toe." + +<p>"Very like dripping, indeed!" exclaimed Mr. Timmis, eyeing his fat +friend, and bursting into an immoderate fit of laughter. The meeting +ended, as usual, with a bet for a dinner at the "Plough" for themselves +and their friends, which Mr. Crobble lost—as usual. + + + +<br><br><br><br><br><br> + +<center><h2>CHAPTER IX.—A Row to Blackwall.</h2></center> +<br><br> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p><i>'To be sold, warranted sound, a gray-mare, very fast, and carries a +lady; likewise a bay-cob, quiet to ride or drive, and has carried a lady.'</i> +</blockquote></blockquote> +<br><br> + +<center><a name="Mullins9"></a><img alt="Mullins9.jpg (77K)" src="images/Mullins9.jpg" height="1008" width="652"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p> +STEAM-BOATS did not run to Greenwich and Blackwall at this period; and +those who resorted to the white-bait establishments at those places, +either availed themselves of a coach or a boat. Being now transformed, +by a little personal merit, and a great favour, from a full-grown +errand-boy to a small clerk, Mr. Timmis, at the suggestion of my good friend Mr. +Wallis, offered me, as a treat, a row in the boat they had engaged for +the occasion; which, as a matter of course, I did not refuse: making +myself as spruce as my limited wardrobe would permit, I trotted at their +heels to the foot of London-bridge, the point of embarkation. + +<p>The party, including the boatman, consisted of eight souls; the tide +was in our favour, and away we went, as merry a company as ever floated +on the bosom of Father Thames. Mr. Crobble was the chief mark for all +their sallies, and indeed he really appeared, from his size, to have been +intended by Nature for a "butt," as Mr. Wallis wickedly remarked. + +<p>"You told, me, Crobble, of your hunting exploit in Hertfordshire," +said Mr. Wallis; "I'll tell you something as bangs that hollow; I'm sure +I thought I should have split with laughter when I heard of it. You know +the old frump, my Aunt Betty, Timmis?" + +<p>"To be sure—she with the ten thousand in the threes," replied Mr. +Timmis; "a worthy creature; and I'm sure you admire her principal." + +<p>"Don't I," cried Wallis; and he winked significantly at his friend. + +<p>"Well, what d'ye think; she, and Miss Scragg, her toady, were in the +country t'other day, and must needs amuse themselves in an airing upon a +couple of prads. + +<p>"Well; they were cantering along—doing the handsome—and had just +come to the border of a pond, when a donkey pops his innocent nose over a +fence in their rear, and began to heehaw' in a most melodious strain. +The nags pricked up their ears in a twinkling, and made no more ado but +bolted. Poor aunty tugged! but all in vain; her bay-cob ran into the +water; and she lost both her presence of mind and her seat, and plumped +swash into the pond—her riding habit spreading out into a beautiful +circle—while she lay squalling and bawling out in the centre, like a +little piece of beef in the middle of a large batter-pudding! Miss +Scragg, meanwhile, stuck to her graymare, and went bumping along to the +admiration of all beholders, and was soon out of sight: luckily a joskin, +who witnessed my dear aunt's immersion, ran to her assistance, and, with +the help of his pitch-fork, safely landed her; for unfortunately the pond +was not above three or four feet deep! and so she missed the chance of +being an angel!" + +<p>"And you the transfer of her threes!—what a pity!" said the +sympathizing Mr. Timmis. + +<p>"When I heard of the accident, of course, as in duty bound, I wrote an +anxious letter of affectionate enquiry and condolence. At the same +period, seeing an advertisement in the Times—'To be sold, warranted +sound, a gray-mare, very fast, and carries a lady; likewise a bay-cob, +quiet to ride or drive, and has carried a lady'—I was so tickled with +the co-incidence, that I cut it out, and sent it to her in an envelope." + +<p>"Prime! by Jove!"—shouted Mr. Crobble—"But, I say, Wallis—you +should have sent her a 'duck' too, as a symbolical memorial of her +accident!" + + + +<br><br><br><br><br><br> + +<center><h2>CHAPTER X.—The Pic-Nic.</h2></center> +<br><br> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p><i>—-had just spread out their +prog on a clean table-cloth, when they were alarmed by the approach of a +cow. </i> +</blockquote></blockquote> +<br><br> + +<center><a name="Mullins10"></a><img alt="Mullins10.jpg (82K)" src="images/Mullins10.jpg" height="922" width="649"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>"PEOPLE should never undertake to do a thing they don't perfectly +understand," remarked Mr. Crobble, "they're sure to make fools o' +themselves in the end. There's Tom Davis, (you know Tom Davis?) he's +always putting his notions into people's heads, and turning the laugh +against 'em. If there's a ditch in the way, he's sure to dare some of +his companions to leap it, before he overs it himself; if he finds it +safe, away he springs like a greyhound." + +<p>"Exactly him, I know him," replied Mr. Timmis; "that's what he calls +learning to shave upon other people's chins!" + +<p>"Excellent!" exclaimed Mr. Wallis. + +<p>"He's a very devil," continued Mr. Crobble; "always proposing some fun +or other: Pic-nics are his delight; but he always leaves others to bring +the grub, and brings nothing but himself. I hate Pic-nics, squatting in +the grass don't suit me at all; when once down, I find it no easy matter +to get up again, I can tell you." + +<p>Hereupon there was a general laugh. + +<p>"Talking of Pic-nics," said Mr. Timmis, "reminds me of one that was +held the other day in a meadow, on the banks of the Lea. The party, +consisting of ladies only, and a little boy, had just spread out their +prog on a clean table-cloth, when they were alarmed by the approach of a +cow. They were presently on their pins, (cow'd, of course,) and sheered +off to a respectful distance, while the cow walked leisurely over the +table-cloth, smelling the materials of the feast, and popp'd her cloven +foot plump into a currant and raspberry pie! and they had a precious deal +of trouble to draw her off; for, as Tom Davis said, there were some +veal-patties there, which were, no doubt, made out of one of her calves; and +in her maternal solicitude, she completely demolished the plates and +dishes, leaving the affrighted party nothing more than the broken +victuals." + +<p>"What a lark!" exclaimed Mr. Crobble; "I would have given a guinea to +have witnessed the fun. That cow was a trojan!" + +<p>"A star in the milky way," cried Mr. Wallis. + +<p>We now approached the 'Plough;' and Mr. Crobble having 'satisfied' the +boatman, Mr. Wallis gave me half-a-crown, and bade me make the best of my +way home. I pocketed the money, and resolved to 'go on the highway,' and +trudge on foot. + +<p>"Andrew," said my worthy patron, "now don't go and make a beast of +yourself, but walk straight home." + +<p>"Andrew," said Mr. Wallis, imitating his friend's tone of admonition; +"if any body asks you to treat 'em, bolt; if any body offers to treat +you, retreat!" + +<p>"Andrew," said Mr. Crobble, who was determined to put in his oar, and +row in the same boat as his friends; "Andrew,"—"Yes, Sir;" and I touched +my hat with due respect, while his two friends bent forward to catch his +words. "Andrew," repeated he, for the third time, "avoid evil +communication, and get thee gone from Blackwall, as fast as your legs can +carry you—for, there's villainous bad company just landed here—wicked +enough to spoil even the immaculate Mr. Cornelius Crobble!" + + + +<br><br><br><br><br><br> + +<center><h2>CHAPTER XI.—The Journey Home.</h2></center> +<br><br> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p><i>"Starboard, Tom, starboard!"—"Aye, aye-starboard it is!"</i> +</blockquote></blockquote> +<br><br> + +<center><a name="Mullins11"></a><img alt="Mullins11.jpg (85K)" src="images/Mullins11.jpg" height="975" width="648"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p> +I FOUND myself quite in a strange land upon parting with my master and +his friends. It was war-time, and the place was literally swarming with +jack-tars. + +<p>Taking to the road, for the footway was quite crowded, I soon reached +Poplar. Here a large mob impeded my progress. They appeared all moved +with extraordinary merriment. I soon distinguished the objects of their +mirth. Two sailors, mounted back to back on a cart-horse, were steering +for Blackwall. A large horse-cloth served them as a substitute for a +saddle, and the merry fellow behind held the reins; he was smoking a +short pipe, while his mate was making an observation with his spy-glass. + +<p>"Starboard, Tom, starboard!" cried the one in front. + +<p>"Aye, aye-starboard it is!" replied his companion, tugging at the +rein. + +<p>"Holloo, messmate! where are you bound?" bawled a sailor in the crowd. + +<p>"To the port o' Blackwall," replied the steersman. "But we're going +quite in the wind's eye, and I'm afeared we shan't make it to-night." + +<p>"A queer craft." + +<p>"Werry," replied Tom. "Don't answer the helm at all." + +<p>"Any grog on board?" demanded the sailor. + +<p>"Not enough to wet the boatswain's whistle; for, da'e see, mate, +there's no room for stowage." + +<p>"Shiver my timbers!—no grog!" exclaimed the other; "why—you'll +founder. If you don't splice the main-brace, you'll not make a knot an +hour. Heave to—and let's drink success to the voyage." + +<p>"With all my heart, mate, for I'm precious krank with tacking. +Larboard, Tom—larboard." + +<p>"Aye, aye—larboard it is." + +<p>"Now, run her right into that 'ere spirit-shop to leeward, and let's +have a bowl." + +<p>Tom tugged away, and soon "brought up" at the door of a wine-vaults. + +<p>"Let go the anchor," exclaimed his messmate—"that's it—coil up." + +<p>"Here, mate—here's a picter of his royal majesty"—giving the sailor +alongside a new guinea—"and now tell the steward to mix us a jorum as +stiff as a nor'wester, and, let's all drink the King's health—God bless +him." + +<p>"Hooray!" shouted the delighted mob. + +<p>Their quondam friend soon did his bidding, bringing out a huge +china-bowl filled with grog, which was handed round to every soul within reach, +and presently dispatched;—two others followed, before they "weighed +anchor and proceeded on their voyage," cheered by the ragged multitude, +among whom they lavishly scattered their change; and a most riotous and +ridiculous scramble it produced. + +<p>I was much pleased with the novelty of the scene, and escaped from the +crowd as quickly as I conveniently could, for I was rather apprehensive +of an attempt upon my pockets. + +<p>What strange beings are these sailors! They have no care for the +morrow, but spend lavishly the hard-earned wages of their adventurous +life. To one like myself, who early knew the value of money, this +thoughtless extravagance certainly appeared unaccountable, and nearly +allied to madness; but, when I reflected that they are sometimes +imprisoned in a ship for years, without touching land, and frequently in +peril of losing their lives—that they have scarcely time to scatter +their wages and prize-money in the short intervals which chance offers +them of mixing with their fellow-men, my wonder changed to pity. + +<p>"A man in a ship," says Dr. Johnson, "is worse than a man in a jail; +for the latter has more room, better food, and commonly better company, +and is in safety." + + + +<br><br><br><br><br><br> + +<center><h2>CHAPTER XII.—Monsieur Dubois.</h2></center> +<br><br> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p><i>"I sha'nt fight with fistesses, it's wulgar!—but if he's a mind to +anything like a gemman, here's my card!"</i> +</blockquote></blockquote> +<br><br> + +<center><a name="Mullins12"></a><img alt="Mullins12.jpg (69K)" src="images/Mullins12.jpg" height="1012" width="651"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p> +THE love-lorn Matthew had departed, no doubt unable to bear the sight of +that staircase whose boards no longer resounded with the slip-slap of the +slippers of that hypocritical beauty, "his Mary." With him, the romance +of the landing-place, and the squad, had evaporated; and I had no +sympathies, no pursuits, in common with the remaining "boys"—my +newly-acquired post, too, nearly occupied the whole of my time, while my desire +of study increased with the acquisition of books, in which all my +pocket-money was expended. + +<p>One day, my good friend, Mr. Wallis, entered the office, followed by a +short, sharp-visaged man, with a sallow complexion; he was dressed in a +shabby frock, buttoned up to the throat—a rusty black silk neckerchief +supplying the place of shirt and collar. + +<p>He stood just within the threshold of the door, holding his napless +hat in his hand. + +<p>"Well, Wally, my buck," cried my master, extending his hand. + +<p>Mr. Wallis advanced close to his elbow, and spoke in a whisper; but I +observed, by the direction of his eyes, that the subject of his +communication was the stranger. + +<p>"Ha!" said Mr. Timmis, "it's all very well, Walley—but I hate all +forriners;—why don't he go back to Frogland, and not come here, palming +himself upon us. It's no go—not a scuddick. They're all a parcel o' +humbugs—and no mistake!" + +<p>As he uttered this gracious opinion sufficiently loud to strike upon +the tympanum of the poor fellow at the door, I could perceive his dark +eyes glisten, and the blood tinge his woe-begone cheeks; his lips +trembled with emotion: there was an evident struggle between offended +gentility, and urgent necessity. + +<p>Pride, however, gained the mastery; and advancing the right foot, he +raised his hat, and with peculiar grace bowing to the two +friends—"Pardon, Monsieur Vallis," said he, in tremulous accents, "I am 'de +trop;' permit, me to visdraw"—and instantly left the office. + +<p>Mr. Timmis, startled by his sudden exit, looked at Mr. Wallis for an +explanation. + +<p>"By ___!" exclaimed Mr. Wallis seriously—"you've hurt that poor +fellow's feelings. I would sooner have given a guinea than he should +have heard you. Dubois is a gentleman; and altho' he's completely +'stumped,' and has'nt a place to put his head in, he's tenacious of that +respect which is due to every man, whether he happens to be at a premium, +or a discount." + +<p>"Go it!" cried Mr. Timmis, colouring deeply at this merited +reproof—"If this ain't a reg'lar sermon! I didn't mean to hurt his feelings, +d___ me; I'm a reg'lar John Bull, and he should know better than to be +popped at my bluntness. D___ me, I wouldn't hurt a worm—you know I +wouldn't, Wallis." + +<p>There was a tone of contrition in this rambling apology that satisfied +Mr. Wallis of its truth; and he immediately entered into an explanation +on the Frenchman's situation. He had known him, he said, for several +years as a tutor in the family of one of his clients, by whom he was much +respected: a heavy loss had compelled them suddenly to reduce their +establishment; Dubois had entreated to remain with his pupil—refused to +receive any salary—and had even served his old patron in the capacity of +a menial, adhering to him in all his misfortunes, and only parted with +him, reluctantly, at the door of the debtor's prison! + +<p>"Did he do that?" said my master; and I saw his eyes moisten at the +relation. "A French mounseer do that! Game—d___ me!"—and lifting the +lid of his desk, he drew out a five pound note! "Here, Wallis, tip him +this flimsey! Tell him—you know what to say—I'm no speechifier—but +you know what I mean." I almost jumped up and hugged my master, I was so +excited. + +<p>The next day Monsieur Dubois again made his appearance; and Mr. Wallis +had the pleasure of beholding Mr. Timmis and his gallic friend on the +best terms imaginable. + +<p>As for me, I had good cause to rejoice; for it was agreed that I +should take lessons in the "foreign lingo," by way of giving him "a +lift," as Mr. Timmis expressed it. I remember him with feelings of +gratitude; for I owe much more than the knowledge of the language to his +kindness and instruction. + +<p>As for Mr. Timmis, he could never sufficiently appreciate his worth, +although he uniformly treated him with kindness. + +<p>"Talk of refinement," said he, one day, when discussing Dubois' merits +with Mr. Wallis; "I saw a bit to-day as bangs everything. A cadger +sweeping a crossing fell out with a dustman. Wasn't there some spicy jaw +betwixt 'em. Well, nothing would suit, but the dustman must have a go, +and pitch into the cadger. + +<p>"D___ me, what does the cove do, but he outs with a bit of dirty +pasteboard, and he says, says he, "I sha'nt fight with fistesses, it's +wulgar!—but if he's a mind to anything like a gemman, here's my card!" +Wasn't there a roar! I lugg'd out a bob, and flung it at the vagabond +for his wit." + + +<br><br><br><br><br><br> + +<center><h2>CHAPTER XIII.—My Talent Called into Active Service.</h2></center> +<br><br> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p><i>"Ar'n't you glad you ain't a black-a-moor?"</i> +<p><i>"I should think so," replied his sooty brother, "they're sich ugly +warmints."</i> +</blockquote></blockquote> +<br><br> + +<center><a name="Mullins13"></a><img alt="Mullins13.jpg (57K)" src="images/Mullins13.jpg" height="925" width="647"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p> +HAVING to deliver a letter, containing an account and a stock receipt, to +one of Mr. Timmis's clients, residing at the west end of the town; in +crossing through one of the fashionable squares, I observed a flat-faced +negro servant in livery, standing at the door of one of the houses. + +<p>Two chimney sweepers who happened to be passing, showed their white +teeth in a contemptuous grin at the African. + +<p>"Bob," I overheard one remark, "ar'n't you glad you ain't a +black-a-moor?" + +<p>"I should think so," replied his sooty brother, "they're sich ugly +warmints. Master's daughter, wots come from boarding school! says the +sight of 'ems' enough to frighten one into conwulsions!" + +<p>Alas! for the prejudice of the world! How much this ignorant remark +reminded me of my patron's unfounded hatred of all "forriners." It was +precisely the same sentiment, differently expressed, that actuated the +thoughts and opinions of both. + +<p>I must, however, do Mr. Timmis the justice to say, that he made ample +amends to Monsieur Dubois for the affront he had so thoughtlessly put +upon the worthy Frenchman; and did all in his power to obtain him pupils. + +<p>The consequent change in his dress and manner, his amiable conduct, +and gentlemanly deportment, at last completely won upon the esteem of the +boisterous broker, who swore, (for that was generally his elegant manner +of expressing his sincerity) that Dubois was a 'downright good'un;' and +were it not for his foreign accent, he should have taken him for an +Englishman born—really believing, that there was no virtue in the world +but of English growth. + +<p>I had now been above twelve-months in his office, and although I had +received but a moderate compensation for my services, yet the vast +improvement I had made (thanks to the instruction of Monsieur Dubois,) +was more valuable than gold. My father also, though but scantily +furnished with book-knowledge, had, nevertheless, the good sense to +appreciate and encourage my progress; he was well aware, from +observation, that 'knowledge is power,' and would frequently quote the +old saw, +<center> +<table summary=""> +<tr><td> + + "When house, and land, and money's spent;<br> + Then larning is most excellent"— + + +</td></tr> +</table> +</center> + +<p>and spared all the money he could scrape together to purchase books +for me. + +<p>One day Mr. Crobble came into the office with an open letter in his +hand. "Here,"—cried he, "I've received a remittance at last from that, +German fellow—two good bills on the first house in the city—but I can't +make top nor tail of his rigmarole. Do you know any chap among your +acquaintance who can read German?" + +<p>"Not I," replied Mr. Timmis. + +<p>"Will you allow me, Mr. Crobble?" said I, stepping forward. "This +letter is written in French, not German, Sir," I observed. + +<p>"What's the difference to me, Master Andrew; it might as well be in +wild Irish, for the matter o' that." + +<p>"Andrew can read the lingo," said my master. + +<p>"The devil he can!" exclaimed Mr. Crobble; "I dare say I shall be able +to make it out," said I; "and if not, Monsieur Dubois will be here; +to-morrow morning, and you can have it by twelve o'clock, sir." + +<p>"Ain't that the ticket?" exclaimed Mr. Timmis, delighted at the +surprise of his friend; "you don't know how vastly clever we are, old +fellow." + +<p>Mr. Crobble, much gratified at this information, placed the letter in +my hands; and, leaving me to take a lunch at Garraway's with Mr. Timmis, +I eagerly sat about my task—and luckily it was not only plainly written, +but the subject-matter by no means difficult, being rather complimentary +than technical. By the time they returned, I had not only translated, +but made a fair copy of it, in my best hand. + +<p>"Come, that is clever," said Mr. Crobble; "let me see, now, what shall +I give you?" + +<p>"Nothing, Sir," I promptly replied; "I am Mr. Timmis's clerk—and all +that I know I owe to his kindness." + +<p>I saw, with pleasure, that this compliment was not lost upon my +master. + +<p>Mr. Crobble was really a gentleman in feeling, and therefore did not +persist in offering me any remuneration; but as he left the office, he +said, "I thank you, Mr. Andrew—I shall not forget your services;" and +departed evidently much pleased with my performance. + + + +<br><br><br><br><br><br> + +<center><h2>CHAPTER XIV.—A Dilemma.</h2></center> +<br><br> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p><i>"EE cawnt gow back, 'cause they locks the gates,"</i> +<p><i>"Well, can we go forward, then?"—"Noa, ee cawnt, 'cause the roads are +under water;"</i> +</blockquote></blockquote> +<br><br> + +<center><a name="Mullins14"></a><img alt="Mullins14.jpg (74K)" src="images/Mullins14.jpg" height="949" width="609"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p> +"EE cawnt gow back, 'cause they locks the gates," said a bumpkin on the +road-side to a Cockney-party in a one-horse chaise. + +<p>"Well, can we go forward, then?" demanded the anxious and wearied +traveller. + +<p>"Noa, ee cawnt, 'cause the roads are under water;" replied the joskin, +with a grin. + +<p>This was certainly a situation more ridiculous than interesting; and I +smiled when I heard the story told, little suspecting that Fortune would +one day throw me into a similar dilemina—so blindly do we mortals hug +ourselves in the supposed security of our tact and foresight. + +<p>"How d'ye do, Mr. Andrew," said Mr. Crobble, when he had seated +himself, and sufficiently inflated his lungs, after the fatiguing +operation of mounting the stairs. + +<p>"Where's Timmis?—tell him I want a word with him." + +<p>I quickly summoned my patron, and followed him into the office. + +<p>"Well, old puff and blow!" exclaimed Mr. Timmis, with his usual +familiarity. + +<p>"What's in the wind? Want to sell out? The fives are fallen three +per cent. since Friday. All the 'Change is as busy as the devil in a +high wind." + +<p>"No—no more dabbling, Timmis," replied Mr. Crobble; "I lost a cool +hundred last account; I want a word in private with you"—and he glanced +towards me; upon which I seized my hat, and took up my position at my old +post on the landing. How were my feelings altered since I first loitered +there, listening to the marvels of poor Matthew! + +<p>I was lost in a pleasant reverie, when the sharp voice of Mr. Timmis +recalled me. + +<p>"Andrew," said he, "my friend Crobble wants a clerk, and has cast his +eye upon you. What do you say?" + +<p>I scarcely knew what to say. On one side stood my master, to whom I +really owed so much—on the other his friend, who offered me a promotion, +which I felt, on many accounts, was most attractive. "I should have no +objection," I replied, "but great pleasure in serving Mr. Crobble, +sir—but—I have received so many favours from you, that I'm afraid I might +seem ungrateful." + +<p>The good-natured Mr. Wallis happily stepped in at this moment to my +relief. + +<p>"Nonsense," replied Mr. Timmis; "the stock is delivered to the highest +bidder; here Crobble backs eighteen shillings a week against my +half-a-crown-take him." + +<p>I still felt some hesitation, although it was evident, from his +expression, that Mr. Timmis valued the servant much less than the servant +valued the master. + +<p>"Only look here, Wally," cried he; "here stands Andrew, like an ass +between two bundles of hay." + +<p>"Rather like a bundle of hay between two asses, I think," replied Mr. +Wallis; and good-naturedly tapping me on the shoulder, he continued—"accept +Mr. Crobble's offer, Master Andrew: you're much too good for +Timmis—he can soon get a grubby half-crown boy—but you may wait a long +time for such an eligible offer." + +<p>"Eighteen shillings a week," said Mr. Crobble; who, I must confess, +without any particular stretch of self-esteem, appeared anxious to engage +me—, "but I shall want security." + +<p>That word "security" fell like an avalanche on my mounting spirit, and +cast me headlong down the imaginary ascent my busy thoughts had climbed +to! + +<p>"Five hundred pounds," continued Mr. Crobble; "d'ye think—have you +any friends?" + +<p>"None, sir; my father is a poor man, and quite unable." I could +scarcely speak—like the driver of the one-horse chaise, I could neither +advance nor recede. + +<p>"The father," said Mr. Timmis, "is only a poor shoe-maker—a good +fellow tho'—an excellent fit!" + +<p>"You mean to say," cried Mr. Wallis, "it were bootless to seek +security of the shoe-maker." + +<p>A laugh ensued; and, notwithstanding my agitated feelings, I could not +forbear being tickled by Mr. Wallis's humour, and joining in the +merriment. + +<p>This sally gave a most favourable turn to the discussion. "Come," +said Mr. Wallis, "I'll stand two hundred and fifty—and you, Timmis, must +go the other." + +<p>"No; d___ me, he may bolt with the cash-box, and let me in, perhaps," +exclaimed Mr. Timmis. I burst into tears; I felt, that from my long and +faithful services, I deserved a better opinion—although I had no right +to expect so great a favour. + +<p>Rude as he was, he felt some compunction at having wounded my +feelings; and swore a round oath that he was only joking, and I was a +fool. "Did I think, for a moment, that Wally should get the start of +him; no—I was an honest chap, and he'd put his fist to double the amount +to serve me;" and then bade me "sit to the books," and make all square +before I cut my stick: and thus happily concluded this most momentous +change in my circumstances. + + +<br><br><br><br><br><br> + +<center><h2>CHAPTER XV.—An Old Acquaintance.</h2></center> +<br><br> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p><i>"Only three holidays left, and still this plaguey glass says 'very +wet;'—I can't bear it—I can't—and I won't."</i> +</blockquote></blockquote> +<br><br> + +<center><a name="Mullins15"></a><img alt="Mullins15.jpg (90K)" src="images/Mullins15.jpg" height="999" width="648"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p> +How impatiently did I count the minutes 'till the office was closed, for +I longed to communicate the glad tidings of my good fortune to my worthy +father. The old man wept with joy at the prospect, and assisted me in +rearing those beautiful fabrics termed castles in the air. + +<p>His own trade, by the recommendation of the rough, ill-mannered, but +good-natured Mr. Timmis, had wonderfully increased; and, by making some +temporary sacrifices, he was enabled to give me an appearance more +suitable to the new position in which I was so unexpectedly placed. In a +narrow alley, on the south side of the Royal Exchange, on the +ground-floor, I found the counting-house of Mr. Crobble. Under his directions, +I quickly made myself master of the details of the business. Alas! it +was but the slender fragment of a once flourishing mercantile house, of +which time had gradually lopped off the correspondents, whilst his own +inertness had not supplied the deficiency by a new connexion; for his +father had left him such an ample fortune, that he was almost careless of +the pursuit, although he could not make up his mind, as he said, to +abandon the "old shop," where his present independence had been +accumulated. I consequently found plenty of leisure, uninterrupted by +the continual hurry and bustle of a broker's office, to pursue my +favourite studies, and went on, not only to the entire satisfaction of +Mr. Crobble, but to my own, and really began to find myself a man of some +importance. + +<p>In the course of business, I one day fell in with an old acquaintance. + +<p>"A parcel for Cornelius Crobble, Esq.," said a little porter, of that +peculiar stamp which is seen hanging about coach-offices—"Two +and-sixpence." + +<p>I looked at the direction, and drew out the "petty cash" to defray the +demand; when, then, first looking at the man, I thought I recognised his +features. + +<p>"What!" cried I, "Isn't your name—" + +<p>"Matthew," answered he quickly. + +<p>"Matthew!—why, don't you know me?" + +<p>"No, sir," replied he, staring vacantly at me. + +<p>"Indeed!—Have I so outgrown all knowledge? Don't you recollect +Andrew Mullins?" + +<p>"Good heavins!" exclaimed he, with his well-remembered nasal twang; +"are you—" + +<p>"Yes." + +<p>"Well, I declare now you've growed into a gentleman. I should'nt—I +really should'nt—" He did not say what he really "should not"—but +extended his hand.—"Hope you ain't too proud to shake hands with an old +friend?" + +<p>I shook him heartily by the hand, and made some enquiries touching his +history. + +<p>Poor Matthew seated himself with all the ease imaginable, and laid his +knot beside him, and began, after the manner of his favourite heroes, to +"unbosom himself." + +<p>"You've a father," said he; "but I'm a horphan, without father nor +mother—a houtcast!"—and he sunk his head upon his bosom; and I observed +that his scrubby crop was already becoming thin and bald. + +<p>"Since I left the place in the 'lane,' I've +bin a-going—down—down"—and he nearly touched the floor with his hand. "That gal, Mary, was the +ruin of me—I shall never forget her.—My hopes is sunk, like the sun in +the ocean, never to rise agin!" I was rather amused by this romantic, +though incorrect, figure; but I let him proceed: "I've got several +places, but lost 'em all. I think there's a spell upon me; and who can +struggle against his fate?" + +<p>I tried to console him, and found, upon a further confession, that he +had flown to spirits "now and then," to blunt the sharp tooth of mental +misery. + +<p>Here, then, was the chief cause of his want of success, which he +blindly attributed to fate—the common failing of all weak minds. For my +part, notwithstanding the imperial authority of the great Napoleon +himself, I have no faith in Fate, believing that the effect, whether good +or bad, may invariably be traced to some cause in the conduct of the +individual, as certainly as the loss of a man, in a game of draughts, is +the consequence of a "wrong move" by the player!—And poor Matthew's +accusation of Fate put me in mind of the school-boy, who, during a wet +vacation, rushed vindictively at the barometer, and struck it in the +face, exclaiming—"Only three holidays left, and still this plaguey glass +says 'very wet;'—I can't bear it—I can't—and I won't." + +<p>I did all in my power to comfort the little porter, exhorting him to +diligence and sobriety. + +<p>"You were always a kind friend," said he, pathetically; "and +perhaps—perhaps you will give me something to drink your health, for +old-acquaintance sake." This unexpected turn compelled me to laughter. I +gave him sixpence. + +<p>Alas! Matthew, I found, was but a piece of coarse gingerbread, tricked +out with the Dutch metal of false sentiment. + + + +<br><br><br><br><br><br> + +<center><h2>CHAPTER XVI.—The Loss of a Friend.</h2></center> +<br><br> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p><i>"I say, ma'am, do you happen to have the hair of 'All round my hat I +vears a green villow?'"</i> +</blockquote></blockquote> +<br><br> + +<center><a name="Mullins16"></a><img alt="Mullins16.jpg (62K)" src="images/Mullins16.jpg" height="989" width="653"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p> +I WAS startled by the batho-romantic sentiment of Matthew, somewhat in +the same manner as the young lady at the bookseller's, when she was +accosted by a musical dustman, with—"I say, ma'am, do you happen to have +the hair of 'All round my hat I vears a green villow?'" + +<p>But, however ridiculous they may appear, such incongruous characters +are by no means caricatures—nay, are "as plentiful as blackberries," +especially in the lower grades of society. + +<p>I was indulging in a reverie of this sort, when Monsieur Dubois, my +kind and gentlemanly tutor, abruptly entered the office. I felt proud in +having obtained his friendship—for he was to me a mine of wealth, and +appeared master of every subject upon which my curiosity prompted me to +inquire, whilst the worthy Frenchman was so flattered by my sincere +respect, that he took a delight in imparting his knowledge to so willing +and diligent a scholar. + +<p>Mr. Crobble had promised that I should continue my studies, being much +pleased with the proof I had been fortunate enough to give him of my +progress, generously offering to defray the charges of tuition; and I +found in my new place, even more time than when in the employ of Mr. +Timmis: for, indeed, half-a-clerk would have been sufficient to have +conducted the whole business. + +<p>I was no less surprised at the unusual abruptness of approach, than at +the extraordinary excitement apparent in the manner of Monsieur Dubois; +for he always boasted of his coolness and philosophy under all +circumstances. + +<p>"Peace, peace!—'mon cher ami'—peace is proclaim"—cried he, raising +his hat and his eyes to the dingy ceiling of our office—"Grace a +Dieu!—le tyran Napoleon—le charlatan est renverse de son piedestal—oui, mon +eleve—I vill see, again once more my dear France!" + +<p>He grasped my hand in his ecstasy, and tears filled his eyes to +overflowing. I had heard rumours of the restoration of the Bourbons, but +I had not anticipated the loss of my inestimable tutor. + +<p>I was almost ashamed of my selfishness; but vanquished my feelings so +far as to congratulate him on his prospects, with as much cordiality and +appearance of truth as I could assume. + +<p>"I trust, however," said I, "that restored to your country, and your +friends, you will find that happiness you so much deserve. Go where you +will, you will be followed by the regrets of your English friends." + +<p>"Ah! les Anglais!—'combien'—how motch 'reconnaissance?'" said he, "I +vill have for them! I sall them forget nevare!" + +<p>Mr. Crobble interrupted our colloquy. "All right t'other side the +channel, Mounseer," cried be, elated; "we've licked Boney: he's done up; +stocks are up; and Timmis, (your old master, Andrew) is as busy as a bee—only he's making money instead of honey!" + +<p>He shook hands with Monsieur Dubois; and congratulated him upon the +restoration of Louis the Eighteenth. + +<p>I mentioned to him Monsieur Dubois' intention of proceeding +immediately to France. "He's right," cried he; "let every man stick to +his King and his country; and I say"—he suddenly checked himself, and +beckoning me aside, continued in an under tone—"Andrew, you understand +this Mounseer better than I do; he appears a good fellow in the main: if +he should want a lift, to fit him out for the voyage, or any thing of +that sort, tell him Corny Crobble will lend him a hand, for old +acquaintance sake; I shan't stick at a matter of forty or fifty +pound—you understand—put it to him, as a matter of business; for that'll suit +his proud stomach best, perhaps"—then, turning to Monsieur, he said, +"Excuse whispering before company, Mounseer Dubois. Good morning." + +<p>"Bon jour, Monsieur," replied Dubois, making my obese governor one of +his most graceful bows. + +<p>I was highly gratified at being selected as the medium of this +generous offer; which Monsieur Dubois received without hesitation, as one +who intended to repay it; but, at the same time, with the most grateful +acknowledgments of Mr. Crobble's considerate kindness. + + + +<br><br><br><br><br><br> + +<center><h2>CHAPTER XVII.—Promotion.</h2></center> +<br><br> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p><i>"I, think there must be something wrong about your rowing,"</i> +<p><i>"My rowing!" cried I; "nonsense!—it's because you don't steer right.</i> +</blockquote></blockquote> +<br><br> + +<center><a name="Mullins17"></a><img alt="Mullins17.jpg (78K)" src="images/Mullins17.jpg" height="916" width="652"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p> +"I REMEMBER, when I was a young man, I once took a fancy to rowing," said +Mr. Crobble one day to me. "I wasn't then quite so round as I am at +present. Cousin Tom and I hired a wherry, but somehow we found we didn't +make much way. Tom was steering, and I took the sculls, sitting my back +to him like a gaby!" + +<p>"'I, think there must be something wrong about your rowing,' said Tom. + +<p>"'My rowing!' cried I; 'nonsense!—it's because you don't steer right.' +Well, at last a waterman came alongside, and grinning (the fellow +couldn't help it) good-naturedly, pointed out the cause of our dilemma; +at which we both laughed heartily. Ever since that time I've been of +opinion, that unless people, 'who row in the same boat,' understand each +other, they'll never get along—" + +<p>I smiled at this lengthy prologue, not conceiving to what it could +possibly lead. + +<p>"Now, Mr. Andrew," resumed he, "I mean to be very industrious, and +devote a whole day to giving you an insight into the business; after +which I expect you'll pull away, while I only steer, which will suit me +to a T—, you understand." + +<p>"Exactly, sir," I replied; and, in consequence, he really set about +the task; and I soon acquired sufficient knowledge in the business, as +not only to row in the same boat with him, but, what was still more +agreeable to my patron's indolence, to manage the "craft" without his +assistance. + +<p>Six months after the departure of Monsieur Dubois, he sent a +remittance, with interest on the amount, advanced by Mr. Crobble, with a +long epistle to me, stating, that he had entered into partnership with +his elder brother, and commenced the business of a banker, under the firm +of "Dubois Freres," at the same time informing me that they were already +doing a large stroke of business, and wanted an agent in London, +requesting me to inform him if it would be agreeable to Mr. Crobble for +them to draw upon his respectable house. + +<p>I saw at once the advantages of this correspondence, and so warmly +solicited Mr. Crobble to accede, that he at last consented, provided I +undertook the whole management of the affair. + +<p>The English were now daily flocking to Paris, and the money required +for their lavish expenditure in the gay capital of France compelled their +application to the bankers. + +<p>Messrs. Dubois Freres had their share of this lucrative business, and, +as their agents in London, we necessarily became participators in their +large transactions. + +<p>In three months these operations had increased so enormously, and the +profits were so considerable, that Mr. Crobble not only advanced my +salary, but consented to engage the assistance of two junior clerks. I +was now a man of some consideration. I was the senior clerk of the +establishment, although the youngest of the three. + +<p>In two years I found myself at the head of six clerks, and had as much +business as I could possibly manage. + +<p>My star was in the ascendant. I had not only more money than I +required for my expenses, but was enabled to maintain my poor old father, +who daily became more and more infirm. + +<p>I rented a small cottage at the rural village of Hackney, but my +labour occupied me early and late, and it was only on a Sunday I could +really enjoy my home. + +<p>Three years after quitting the office of Mr. Timmis, I had the +inexpressible pleasure of employing him to purchase stock for his errand +boy! I was proud as a king. + +<p>"I said that boy would turn out well," said the good-natured Mr. +Wallis; "he always had a good principle." + +<p>"And now bids fair," said Mr. Timmis, "to have both principal and +interest." + +<p>Mr. Crobble having lately had a large property left him in +Hertfordshire, rarely came to the office above once a-quarter, to settle +accounts. + +<p>"A good dividend—a very good dividend!" said he, upon receipt of the +last quarter's profits. "But, Mr. Mullins, I cannot forget that this +business is your child." + +<p>"And I'm happy to say a thriving one," I replied. + +<p>"Are you satisfied—perfectly satisfied?" demanded he. + +<p>"Beyond my wishes, sir." + +<p>"I am not," said he shortly. + +<p>"No, sir?" exclaimed I, with surprise. + +<p>"No, Sir!" repeated he. "Those who sow should reap. I've no +children—I'm an idle fellow—a drone, sir—and won't consent to consume +all the honey. Don't speak, sir—read that!" and he pulled a parchment +from his pocket. + +<p>It was a deed of partnership between Cornelius Crobble, of Lodge, +Hertfordshire, Esquire, and the poor cobbler's son, + <center><p>ANDREW MULLINS.</center> + + + +<br><br><br><br><br><br> + +<center><h2>A RIGMAROLE.—PART I.</h2></center> +<br><br> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p><i>"De omnibus rebus."</i> +</blockquote></blockquote> +<br><br> + +<center><a name="Rigmarole1"></a><img alt="Rigmarole1.jpg (70K)" src="images/Rigmarole1.jpg" height="896" width="649"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>THE evening is calm—the sun has just sunk below the tiles of the +house, which serenely bounds the view from the quiet attic where I wield +the anserine plume for the delectation of the pensive public—all nature, +etc.—the sky is deep blue, tinged with mellowest red, like a learned +lady delicately rouged, and ready for a literary soiree—the sweet-voiced +pot-boy has commenced his rounds with "early beer," and with leathern +lungs, and a sovereign contempt for the enactments of the new +police-act—greasy varlets proclaim to the hungry neighbourhood—"Baked sheeps' +heads, hot!"—O! savoury morsel!—May no legislative measure ever silence +this peripatetic purveyor to the poor! or prevent his calling—may the +tag-rag and bob-tail never reject a sheep's head! + +<p>"I never sees a sheep's head, but I thinks on you," said Mrs. +Spriggins, whose physiognomy was as yellow and as wrinkled as a duck's +foot. Spriggins whipped his horse, for they were driving in a one-horse +chaise, with two boys, and an infant in arms—Spriggins whipped his horse +spitefully, for Mrs. S.'s sarcasm inspired him with a splenetic feeling; +and as he durst not chastise her, the animal received the benefit of her +impetus. Spriggins was a fool by nature, and selfish by disposition. +Mrs. S. was a shrivelled shrew, with a "bit o' money;"—that was the bait +at which he, like a hungry gudgeon, had seized, and he was hooked! The +"spousals" had astonished the vulgar—the little nightingale of +Twickenham would have only smiled; for has he not sweetly sung— + +<center><p> "There swims no goose so grey, but soon or late +<br> She finds some honest gander for her mate;"</center> + +<p>and her union was a verification of this flowing couplet. + +<p>At different times, what different meanings the self-same words +obtain. According to the reading of the new poor-law guardians, "Union," +as far as regards man and wife, is explained "Separation;" or, like a +ship when in distress, the "Union" is reversed! In respect of his union, +Spriggins would have most relished the reading of the former! But there +are paradoxes—a species of verbal puzzle—which, in the course of this +ride, our amiable family of the Spriggins's experienced to their great +discomfort. + +<p>Drawing up a turnpike-gate, Mrs. S. handed a ticket to the +white-aproned official of the trust. + +<p>"You should have gone home the way you came out—that ticket won't do +here," said the man; "so out with your coppers—three-pence." + +<p>"I don't think I've got any half-pence!" said Mr. S., fumbling in his +pennyless pocket. + +<p>"Well, then, I must give you change." + +<p>"But I'm afraid I hav'nt got any silver," replied Mr. S., with a long +face.—"I say, mister, cou'dn't you trust me?—I'd be wery sure to bring +it to you." + +<p>But the man only winked, and, significantly pointing the thumb of his +left hand over his sinister shoulder, backed the horse. + +<p>"Vell, I'm blessed," exclaimed Mr. S.—and so he was—with a scolding +wife and a squalling infant; "and they calls this here a trust, the +fools! and there ain't no trust at all!" + +<p>And the poor animal got another vindictive cut. Oh! Mr. Martin!—thou +friend of quadrupeds!—would that thou had'st been there. "It's all my +eye and Betty Martin!" muttered Mr. S., as he wheeled about the jaded +beast he drove, and retraced the road. + + + +<br><br><br><br><br><br> + +<center><h2>A RIMAROLE—PART II.</h2></center> +<br><br> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p><i>"Acti labores sunt jucundi"</i> +</blockquote></blockquote> +<br><br> + +<center><a name="Rigmarole2"></a><img alt="Rigmarole2.jpg (85K)" src="images/Rigmarole2.jpg" height="787" width="649"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>THE horse is really a noble animal—I hate all rail-roads, for putting +his nose out of joint—puffing, blowing, smoking, jotting—always going +in a straight line: if this mania should continue, we shall soon have the +whole island ruled over like a copy-book—nothing but straight lines—and +sloping lines through every county in the kingdom! + +<p>Give me the green lanes and hills, when I'm inclined to diverge; and +the smooth turnpike roads, when disposed to "go a-head."—"I can't bear a +horse," cries Numps: now this feeling is not at all reciprocal, for every +horse can bear a man. "I'm off to the Isle of Wight," says Numps: "Then +you're going to Ryde at last," quoth I, "notwithstanding your hostility +to horse-flesh." "Wrong!" replies he, "I'm going to Cowes." "Then +you're merely a mills-and-water traveller, Numps!" The ninny! he does +not know the delight of a canter in the green fields—except, indeed, the +said canter be of the genus-homo, and a field preacher! + +<p>My friend Rory's the boy for a horse; he and his bit o' blood are +notorious at all the meetings. In fact I never saw him out of the +saddle: he is a perfect living specimen of the fabled Centaur—full of +anecdotes of fox-chases, and steeple-chases; he amuses me exceedingly. I +last encountered him in a green lane near Hornsey, mounted on a +roadster—his "bit o' blood" had been sent forward, and he was leisurely making +his way to the appointed spot. + +<p>"I was in Buckinghamshire last week," said he; "a fine turn out—such +a field! I got an infernal topper tho'—smashed my best tile; tell you +how it was. There was a high paling—put Spitfire to it, and she took it +in fine style; but, as luck would have it, the gnarled arm of an old tree +came whop against my head, and bonneted me completely! Thought I was +brained—but we did it cleverly however—although, if ever I made a leap +in the dark, that was one. I was at fault for a minute—but Spitfire was +all alive, and had it all her own way: with some difficulty I got my nob +out of the beaver-trap, and was in at the death!" + +<p>I laughed heartily at his awkward dilemma, and wishing him plenty of +sport, we parted. + +<p>Poor Rory! he has suffered many a blow and many a fall in his time; +but he is still indefatigable in the pursuit of his favourite pastime—so +true is it—that + + <center><p>"The pleasure we delight in physic's pain;"</center> + +<p>his days pass lightly, and all his years are leap years! + +<p>He has lately inherited a considerable property, accumulated by a +miserly uncle, and has most appropriately purchased an estate in one of +the Ridings of Yorkshire! + +<p>With all his love for field-sports, however, he is no better "the +better," says he, "is often the worse; and I've no notion of losing my +acres in gambling; besides, my chief aim being to be considered a good +horseman, I should be a consummate fool, if, by my own folly, I lost my +seat!" + + + +<br><br><br><br><br><br> + +<center><h2>A RIGMAROLE—PART III.</h2></center> +<br><br> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p><i>"Oderunt hilarem tristes."</i> +</blockquote></blockquote> +<br><br> + +<center><a name="Rigmarole3"></a><img alt="Rigmarole3.jpg (87K)" src="images/Rigmarole3.jpg" height="921" width="650"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p> +THE sad only hate a joke. Now, my friend Rory is in no sense a sad fellow, +and he loves a joke exceedingly. His anecdotes of the +turf are all racy; nor do those of the field less deserve the meed of +praise! Lord F____ was a dandy sportsman, and the butt of the regulars. +He was described by Rory as a "walkingstick"—slender, but very +"knobby"—with a pair of mustaches and an eye-glass. Having lost the scent, he +rode one day slick into a gardener's ground, when his prad rammed his +hind-legs into a brace of hand-glasses, and his fore-legs into a +tulip-bed. The horticulturist and the haughty aristocrat—how different were +their feelings—the cucumber coolness of the 'nil admirari' of the one +was ludicrously contrasted with the indignation of the astonished +cultivator of the soil. "Have you seen the hounds this way?" demanded +Lord F____, deliberately viewing him through his glass. + +<p>"Hounds!" bitterly repeated the gardener, clenching his fist. "Dogs, +I mean," continued Lord F____; "you know what a pack of hounds are—don't +you?" + +<p>"I know what a puppy is," retorted the man; "and if so be you don't +budge, I'll spile your sport. But, first and foremost, you must lug out +for the damage you have done—you're a trespasser." + +<p>"I'm a sportsman, fellow—what d'ye mean?" + +<p>"Then sport the blunt," replied the gardener; and, closing his gates, +took Lord F____ prisoner: nor did he set him free till he had reimbursed +him for the mischief he had done. + +<p>This was just; and however illegal were the means, I applauded them +for the end. + +<p>Our friend B___d, that incorrigible punster, said, "that his horse had +put his foot in—and he had paid his footing," + +<p>B___d, by the bye, is a nonpareil; whether horses, guns, or dogs, he +is always "at home:" and even in yachting, (as he truly boasts) he is +never "at sea." Riding with him one day in an omnibus, I praised the +convenience of the vehicle; "An excellent vehicle," said he, "for +punning;"—which he presently proved, for a dowager having flopped into +one of the seats, declared that she "never rid vithout fear in any of +them omnibus things." + +<p>"What is she talking about?" said I. + +<p>"De omnibus rebus," replied he,—"truly she talks like the first lady +of the land; but, as far as I can see, she possesses neither the carriage +nor the manners!" + +<p>"Can you read the motto on the Conductor's button?" I demanded. "No;" +he replied, "but I think nothing would be more appropriate to his calling +than the monkish phrase—'pro omnibus curo!'" + +<p>At this juncture a jolt, followed by a crash, announced that we had +lost a wheel. The Dowager shrieked. "We shall all be killed," cried +she; "On'y to think of meeting vun's death in a common omnibus!" + +<p>"Mors communis omnibus!" whispered B___d, and—— + +<p>I had written thus far, when spit—spit—splutter—plop!—my end of +candle slipped into the blacking bottle in which it was "sustained," and +I was left to admire—the stars of night, and to observe that "Charles's +wain was over the chimney;" so I threw down my pen—and, as the house was +a-bed—and I am naturally of a "retiring" disposition, I sought my +pallet—dreaming of literary fame!—although, in the matter of what might +be in store for me, I was completely in the dark! + +<p> + + + +<br><br><br><br><br><br> + +<center><h2>AN INTERCEPTED LETTER FROM DICK SLAMMER TO HIS FRIEND SAM FLYKE.</h2></center> +<br><br> + + +<center><a name="Intercepted Letter1"></a><img alt="Intercepted Letter1.jpg (61K)" src="images/Intercepted%20Letter1.jpg" height="911" width="649"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + + + + <center><p>eppin-toosday</center> + +<p>my dear sam + + +<p>i've rote this ere for to let you no i'm in jolly good health and +harty as a brick—and hope my tulip as your as vell——read this to sal +who can't do the same herself seeing as her edication aintt bin in that +line——give her my love and tell her to take care o' the kids.——i've +got a silk vipe for sal, tell her; and suffing for 'em all, for i've made +a xlent spec o' the woy'ge and bagg'd some tin too i can tell you; and +vont ve have a blow out ven i cums amung you——napps——that's the +ass——is particklar vell and as dun his dooty like a riq'lar flint—— + +<p>i rode too races ar' needn't say as i vun em for napps is a +houtanhouter an no mistake! + +<p>lork! didn't i make the natifs stare! and a gintlum as vos by, +vanted to oan 'im an oferd any blunt for im but walker! says i there +aint sick a ass as this 'ere hanimal in the hole country——besides he's +like as vun o' me oan famly, for i've brot im up in a manner from the +time he vos a babby!——he's up to a move or too and knows my voice jist +for all the world like a Chrissen. + +<p>Red-nose Bill vot had a nook 'em down here brings this and he'll tell +you all about the noose——i shall foller in about, a veek or so——tell +sal to keep up her sperrits and not to lush vith Bet——i dont like that +ere ooman at all——a idle wagabone as is going to the Union like +vinkin——i'm no temperens cove meself as you nose, sam, but enufs enuf and as +good as a feast. + +<p>The gintry as taken hervite a likin to Napps and me——they looks upon +im as hervite a projidy——for he's licked all the donkies as run agin +im——the vimmen too——(you no my insinnivating vay, sam,) and nobody +nose better than me how to git the right sow by the ear——no sooner do i +see 'em a comin vith their kids, than i slips of and doffs my tile, an i +says, says i——do let the yung jentlum have a cast——and then the +little in coorse begins a plegyin the old 'uns, and——so the jobs done! + +<p>——vot's to pay, my good man? says she + +<p>——oh——nothink, marm, says i, as modest as a turnip +new-peeld——napps is a rig'lar racer——i dont let im hout but i'm so fond o' +children! + +<p>——this here Yummeree doos the bisnis prime, for the vimmen comes +over the jentlum and a pus is made up for anuther race——and in coorse i +pockits the Bibs——cos vy?——napps is nothink but a good 'un. + +<p>'tother day hearin as there vos an hunt in the naborwood:——napps, +says i-a——speakin to my ass——napps ve'll jist go and look at 'em—— + +<p>——vell ve hadnt got no more nor a mile wen i comes slap alongside of +a starch-up chap upatop of raythur a good lookin' oss.——but my i! +vornt there bellows to mend; and he made no more vay nor a duck in a +gutter.——i says, sir, says i, dye think ve shall be in time for the +hunt? +but he never turns is hed but sets bolt uprite as stiff as pitch——jist +for all the world as if his mother had vashed im in starch. + +<p>——i twigs his lean in a jiffy——so i says says i "oh-you needn't be +so shy i rides my own hannimal,"—— + +<p>——vich i takes it vos more nor he co'd say, for his vas nothin more +nor a borrod'un and if i dont mistake he vos a vitechapler——i think ive +seed im a sarvin out svipes and blue ruin at the gin-spinners corner o' +summerset street or petticut lane——dunno witch. + +<p>——sam, i hates pride so i cuts his cumpny——i says says i——napps +it dont fit you aint a nunter you're o'ny a racer and that chaps afeard +his prad vill be spiled a keeping conapny with a ass——leastways i'm o' +the same opinyon in that respec consarning meself and——so i shall +mizzle. + +<p>——a true gintlum as is a gintlum, sam is as difrent to these here +stuck-up fellers az a sovrin is to a coronashun copper vot's on'y gilt. + +<p>vell lie turns hof over the left and vips up his animal tryin to get +up a trot——bobbin up and down in his sturrups and bumpin hisself to +make a show——all flummery!——he takes the middel o' the field to +hisself, and i cox my i for a houtlet and spi's a gait——that's the +ticket! says i; so liting the 'bacca and blowin a cloud I trots along, +and had jist cum to the gait ven turnin' round to look for the +gin-spinner, blow me! sam, if i didn't see the cove again heels over head +over an edge——like a tumler at bartlmy fare;——vile his preshus +hannimal vas a takin it cooly in the meddo! + + + +<br><br><br><br> +<center><a name="Intercepted Letter2"></a><img alt="Intercepted Letter2.jpg (76K)" src="images/Intercepted%20Letter2.jpg" height="950" width="650"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>"vat a rum chap"—says i, a larfin reddy to bust——"vat a rum chap +to go over the 'edge that vay! ven here's a riglar gait to ride +through!" + +<p>——and so, i druv on, but somehow, sam, i coudn't help a thinkin' as +praps the waggerbun lead broke his nek——stif as it vas! and so i said +to napps——"napps,"——says i——"lets go and look arter the warmint +for charity's-sake" + +<p>——napps vots as good-natur'd a ass as his master, didn't make no +obstacle and so ve vent—- + +<p>——my i!——sam, i'd a stood a Kervorten and three outs ad you a bin +there!——there vas my jentlum up to his nek in a duckpond——lookin' as +miserribble as a stray o' mutton in a batter puddin' + +<p>"halp! halp!" says he, a spittin' the green veeds out of his +mouth——"halp me, faller, and i'll stand a bob" or summat to that efeck. + +<p>——but i couldn't hold out my fin to him for larfin——and napps +begun a brayin at sich a rate——vich struck me as if he vas a larfin +too, and made me larf wusser than ever—— + +<p>——vell, at last, i contrivis to lug him out, and a preshus figger he +cut to be sure——he had kervite a new sute o' black mud, vich didn't +smell particlar sveet i can tell you. + +<p>——"ain't hurt yoursef?" says i, "have you?" + +<p>——"no"——says he——"but i'm dem wet and utterably spiled"——or +vords like that for he chewd'em so fine i couldn't rightly hit 'em. + +<p>——ater i'd scraped him a little desent, and he'd tip'd a hog——vich +vas rayther hansum——i ax'd him vere he'd left his tile? + +<p>"tile?"——says he——a yogglin his i's and openin' his jaws like a +dyin' oyster "yes your castor"——says i, "your beaver your hat." + +<p>"Oh!"——says he, p'inting dismal to the pond——"gone to the devil +d___ me!"——so vith that he takes out a red and yuller vipe, and ties it +about his hed, lookin' for all the vorld like a apple-ooman. + +<p>——as he had come down hansum i in coorse ofer'd to ketch his prad +vich va'n't much difficulty——and up he jumps and lepped with a squosh +into the saddle——and rid of vithout as much as sayin' by your leave +good luck to you or anythink else—— + +<p>—-vell, this here vos the end and upshot o' that day's fun for I vos +too late for the start by ten minnits——i saw 'em goin' it at a distance +so i takes a sight!——but i had too much valley for napes to put im to +it so as to get up vith 'em——or he might a done it praps!—- + +<p>——i've lived like a fightin cock and am as fatt as butter——but the +race is goin' to begin in a hour and i must go and ketch napps who's a +grazin on the commun and looks oncommun vell——so no more at present +from, + +<center><p> Yours, my prime 'un, + +<p> dick stammer.</center> + + +<br><br> + + + + + +<center> +<table summary="" cellPadding=4 border=3> +<tr><td> + + <a href="p4.htm">Previous Part</a> +</td><td> + <a href="5650-h.htm">Main Index</a> + +</td></tr> +</table> +</center> + +<br><br> +<center><a name="Inside Papers"></a><img alt="Inside Papers.jpg (187K)" src="images/Inside%20Papers.jpg" height="1119" width="646"> +</center> +<br><br> + +</body> +</html> + |