When, after his return from Mr. Gammon's chambers, at Thavies' Inn,
Titmouse woke at an early hour in the morning, he was laboring under the
ordinary effects of unaccustomed inebriety. His lips were perfectly
parched; his tongue clave to the roof of his mouth; there was a horrid
weight pressing on his aching eyes, and upon his throbbing head. His
pillow seemed undulating beneath him, and everything swimming around
him; but when, to crown the whole, he was roused from a momentary nap by
the insupportable--the loathed importunities of Mrs. Squallop, that he
would just sit up and partake of three thick rounds of hot buttered
toast, and a great basin of smoking tea, which would do him _so_ much
good, and settle his stomach--at all events, if he'd only have a
thimbleful of gin in it--poor Titmouse was fairly overcome!... He lay in
bed all that day, during which he underwent very severe sufferings; and
it was not till towards night that he began to have anything like a
distinct recollection of the events of the evening which he had spent
with Mr. Gammon; who, by the way, had sent one of the clerks, during the
afternoon, to inquire after him. He did not get out of bed on the
Tuesday till past twelve o'clock, when, in a very rickety condition, he
made his appearance at the shop of Messrs. Tag-rag and Co.; on
approaching which he felt a sudden faintness, arising from mingled
apprehension and disgust.
"What are you doing here, sir?--You're no longer in my employment, sir,"
exclaimed Tag-rag, attempting to speak calmly, as he hurried down the
shop, white with rage, to meet Titmouse, and planted himself right in
the way of his languid and pallid shopman.
"Sir!"--faintly exclaimed Titmouse, with his hat in his hand.
"Very much obliged, sir--very! by the offer of your valuable services,"
said Tag-rag. "But--_that's_ the way out again,
sir--that!--there!--good-morning, sir--good-morning, sir!--that's the
way out"--and he egged on Titmouse, till he had got him fairly into the
street--with infinite difficulty restraining himself from giving the
extruded sinner a parting kick! Titmouse stood for a moment before the
door, trembling and aghast, looking in a bewildered manner at the shop:
but Tag-rag again making his appearance, Titmouse slowly walked away and
returned to his lodgings. Oh that Mr. Gammon had witnessed the
scene--thought he--and so have been satisfied that it had been Tag-rag
who had put an end to his service, not he himself who had quitted it!
The next day, about the same hour, Mr. Gammon made his appearance at the
establishment from which Titmouse had been expelled so summarily, and
inquired for Mr. Tag-rag, who presently presented himself--and
recognizing Mr. Gammon, whose presence naturally suggested the previous
day's transaction with Titmouse, changed color a little.
"What did you please to want, sir?" inquired Mr. Tag-rag, with a
would-be resolute air, twirling round his watch-key with some energy.
"Only a few minutes' conversation, sir, if you please," said Mr. Gammon,
with such a significant manner as a little disturbed Mr. Tag-rag; who,
with an ill-supported sneer, bowed very low, and led the way to his own
little room. Having closed the door, he, with an exceedingly civil air,
begged Mr. Gammon to be seated; and then occupied the chair opposite to
him, and awaited the issue with ill-disguised anxiety.
"I am _very_ sorry, Mr. Tag-rag," commenced Gammon, in his usual elegant
and feeling manner, "that any misunderstanding should have arisen
between you and Mr. Titmouse!"
"You're a lawyer, sir, I suppose?" Mr. Gammon bowed. "Then you must
know, sir, that there are always two sides to a quarrel," said Mr.
Tag-rag, anxiously.
"Yes--you are right, Mr. Tag-rag; and, having already heard Mr.
Titmouse's version, may I be favored with _your_ account of your reasons
for discharging him? For he tells us that yesterday you dismissed him
suddenly from your employment, without giving him any warn"----
"So I did, sir; and what of that?" inquired Tag-rag, tossing his head
with a sudden air of defiance. "Things are come to a pretty pass indeed,
when a man at the head of such an establishment as mine, can't dismiss a
drunken, idle, impertinent--abusive vagabond." Here Mr. Gammon somewhat
significantly took out his tablets--as if to note down the language of
his companion.
"Do you seriously," inquired Mr. Gammon, "charge him with being such a
character, and can you _prove_ your charges, Mr. Tag-rag?"
"Prove 'em! yes, sir, a hundred times over; so will all my young men!"
replied Tag-rag, vehemently.
"And in a court of justice, Mr. Tag-rag?" said Mr. Gammon, emphatically.
"Oh! he is going to _law_, is he? Ah, ha! Bless my soul!--So _that's_
why you're come here--ah, ha!--when you can make a silk purse out of a
sow's ear, you may get your bill out of Mr. Tittlebat Titmouse!--ha, ha,
ha!" laughed Tag-rag, hoping thereby to conceal how much he was really
startled.
"Well--that's _our_ look-out, Mr. Tag-rag: to Mr. Titmouse, his
character is as valuable as Mr. Tag-rag's is to him. In short, Mr.
Titmouse has placed himself in our hands, and we are resolved to go on
with the case, if it cost us a hundred pounds--we are indeed, Mr.
Tag-rag."
"Why--he's not a penny in the world to go to law with!" exclaimed
Tag-rag, with an air of mingled wonder, scorn, and alarm.
"But you forget, Mr. Tag-rag, that if Mr. Titmouse's account of the
business should turn out to be correct, it will be _your_ pocket that
must pay all the expenses, amounting probably to twenty times the sum
which the law may award to him!"
"_Law_, sir?--It's not justice!--I hate law.--Give me common sense and
common honesty!" said Mr. Tag-rag, with a little agitation.
"Both of them would condemn your conduct, Mr. Tag-rag; for I have heard
a full account of what Mr. Titmouse has suffered at your hands--of the
cause of your sudden warning to him, and your still more sudden
dismissal of yesterday. Oh, Mr. Tag-rag! upon my honor, it won't do--not
for a moment--and should you go on, rely upon what I tell you, that it
will cost you dear."
"And suppose, sir," said Tag-rag, in a would-be contemptuous tone--"I
should have witnesses to prove all I've said--which of us will look
funny _then_, sir?"
"Which, indeed! However, since that is your humor, I can only assure you
that it is very possible we may be, by the time of the trial, possessed
of some evidence which will surprise you: and that Mr. Titmouse defies
you to prove any misconduct on his part. We have, in short, taken up his
cause, and, as you may perhaps find by and by, to your cost, we shall
not easily let it drop."
"I mean no offence, sir," said Tag-rag, in a mitigated tone; "but I
must say, that ever since _you_ first came here, Titmouse has been quite
another person. He seems not to know who I am, nor to care either--and
he's perfectly unbearable."
"My dear sir, what has he _said_ or _done_?--that, you know, is what you
must be prepared to prove, when you come into court!"
"Well, sir! and which of us is likely to be best off for
witnesses?--Think of that, sir--I've eighteen young men"----
"We shall chance that, sir," replied Gammon, shrugging his shoulders,
and smiling very bitterly; "but again, I ask, what did you dismiss him
for? and, sir, I request a plain, straightforward answer."
"What did I dismiss him for?--Haven't I eyes and ears?--First and
foremost, he's the most odious-mannered fellow I ever came near--and--he
hadn't a shirt to his back when I first took him--the ungrateful
wretch!--Sir, it's at any rate not against the law, I suppose, to _hate_
a man;--and if it isn't, how I HATE Titmouse!"
"Mr. Tag-rag"--said Gammon, lowering his voice, and looking very
earnestly at his companion--"can I say a word to you in confidence--the
strictest confidence?"
"What's it about, sir?" inquired Tag-rag, somewhat apprehensively.
"I dare say you may have felt, perhaps, rather surprised at the interest
which I--in fact our office, the office of Quirk, Gammon, and Snap, in
Saffron Hill--appear to have taken in Mr. Titmouse."
"Why, sir, it's _your_ look-out to see how you're to be paid for what
you're doing--and I dare say lawyers generally keep a pretty sharp
look-out in that direction!"
Gammon smiled, and continued--"It may, perhaps, a little surprise you,
Mr. Tag-rag, to hear that your present (ought I to say, your _late_?)
shopman, Mr. Tittlebat Titmouse, is at this moment probably the very
luckiest man--and one among the richest, too--in this kingdom."
"Why--you don't mean to say he's drawn a prize in the
lottery?"--exclaimed Tag-rag, pricking up his ears, and manifestly
changing color.
"Pho! my dear sir, _that_ is a mere bagatelle compared with the good
fortune which has just fallen to his lot. I solemnly assure you, that I
believe it will very shortly turn out that he is at this moment the
undoubted owner of an estate worth at least ten thousand a-year, besides
a vast accumulation of ready money!"
"Ten thousand a-year, sir!--My Titmouse!--Tittlebat Titmouse!--Ten
thousand a-year! it's quite impossible!" faltered Tag-rag, after a
pause, having gone as pale as death.
"I have as little doubt of the fact, however, sir, as I have that you
yesterday turned him out of doors, Mr. Tag-rag!"
"But"--said Mr. Tag-rag, in a low tone--"who could have dreamed it?--How
was--_really_, Mr. Gammon!--how _was_ I to know it?"
"That's the fact, however," said Gammon, shrugging his shoulders.
Tag-rag wriggled about in his chair, put his hands in and out of his
pockets, scratched his head, and continued staring open-mouthed at the
bearer of such astounding intelligence. "Perhaps, however, all this is
meant as a joke, sir,"--said he--"And if so--it's--it's--a very"----
"It's one of his solicitors who were fortunate enough to make the
discovery, that tells you, sir," interrupted Gammon, calmly. "I repeat
what I have already told you, Mr. Tag-rag, that an estate of ten
thousand a-year is the very least"----
"Why, that's two hundred thousand pounds, sir!"--exclaimed Tag-rag, with
an awe-struck air.
"At the very least"----
"Lord, Mr. Gammon!--Excuse me, sir, but how _did_ you find it out?"
"Mere accident--a mere accidental discovery, sir, in the course of other
professional inquiries!"
"And does Mr. Titmouse know it?"
"Ever since the day, Mr. Tag-rag, after that on which I called on him
here!" replied Gammon, pointedly.
"You--don't--say--so!"--exclaimed Tag-rag, and then continued silent for
nearly half a minute, evidently amazed beyond all power of expression.
"Well,"--at length he observed--"I _will_ say this--with all his few
faults--he's the most amiable young gentleman--the _very amiablest_
young gentleman I--ever--came near. I always thought there was something
uncommon superior-like in his looks."
"Yes--I think he _is_ of rather an amiable turn," observed Gammon, with
an expressive smile--"very gentlemanlike--and so intelligent"----
"Intelligent! Mr. Gammon! you should only have known him as I have known
him!--Well, to be sure!--Lord! His only fault was, that he was above his
business; but when one comes to think of it, how could it be otherwise?
From the time I first clapped eyes on him--I--I--knew he was--a superior
article--quite superior--you know what I mean, sir?--he couldn't help
it, of course!--to be sure--he never was much liked by the other young
men; but that was jealousy!--all jealousy; I saw that all the while."
Here he looked at the door, and added in a very low tone, "Many
sleepless nights has their bad treatment of Mr. Titmouse cost me!--Even
I, now and then, used to look and speak sharply to him--just to keep
him, as it were, down to the mark of the others--he was so uncommon
handsome and genteel in his manner, sir. I remember telling my good lady
the very first day he came to me, that he was a gentleman born--or ought
to have been one."
Now, do you suppose, acute reader, that Mr. Tag-rag was insincere in all
this? By no means. He spoke the real dictates of his heart, unaware of
the sudden change which had taken place in his feelings. It certainly
has an ugly look of improbability--but it was the _nature of the beast_;
his eye suddenly caught a glimpse of the golden calf, and he
instinctively fell down and worshipped it. "Well--at all events," said
Mr. Gammon, scarcely able to keep a serious expression on his
face--"though he's not lived much like a gentleman hitherto, yet he will
live for the future like a _very great gentleman_--and spend his money
like one, too."
"I--I--dare say--- he will!--I wonder how he _will_ get through a
quarter of it!--what do _you_ think he'll do, sir?"
"Heaven only knows--he may very shortly do just what he likes! Go into
the House of Commons, or--perhaps--have a peerage given him"----
"Lord, sir!--I feel as if I shouldn't be quite right again for the rest
of the day!--I own to you, sir, that all yesterday and to-day I've been
on the point of going to Mr. Titmouse's lodgings to apologize
for--for---- Good gracious me! one can't take it all in at once--Ten
thousand a-year!--Many a lord hasn't got more--some not half as much,
I'll be bound!--Dear me, what will he do!--Well, one thing I'm _sure_
of--he'll never have a truer friend than plain Thomas Tag-rag, though
I've not always been a-flattering him--I respected him too much!--The
many little things I've borne with in Titmouse, that in any one else I'd
have--But why didn't he tell me, sir? We should have understood one
another in a moment."--Here he paused abruptly; for his breath seemed
suddenly taken away, as he reviewed the series of indignities which he
had latterly inflicted on Titmouse--the kind of life which that amiable
young gentleman had led in his establishment.
Never had the keen Gammon enjoyed anything more exquisitely than the
scene which I have been describing. To a man of his practical sagacity
in the affairs of life, and knowledge of human nature, nothing could
appear more ludicrously contemptible than the conduct of poor Tag-rag.
How differently are the minds of men constituted! How Gammon despised
Tag-rag! And what opinion has the acute reader by this time formed of
Gammon?
"_Now_, may I take for granted, Mr. Tag-rag, that we understand each
other?" inquired Gammon.
"Yes, sir," replied Tag-rag, meekly. "But do you think Mr. Titmouse will
ever forgive or forget the little misunderstanding we've lately had? If
I could but explain to him how I have been acting a part towards
him--all for his good!"
"You may have opportunities for doing so, if you are really so disposed,
Mr. Tag-rag; for I have something seriously to propose to you.
Circumstances render it desirable that for some little time this
important affair should be kept as quiet as possible; and it is Mr.
Titmouse's wish and ours--as his confidential professional
advisers--that for some few months he should continue in your
establishment, and apparently in your service as before."
"In my service!--my service!" interrupted Tag-rag, opening his eyes to
their utmost. "I sha'n't know how to behave in my own premises! Have a
man with ten thousand a-year behind my counter, sir? I might as well
have the Lord Mayor! Sir, it can't--it can't be. Now, if Mr. Titmouse
chose to become a _partner_ in the house--ay, there might be something
in that--he needn't have any trouble--be only a sleeping partner."
Tag-rag warmed with the thought. "Really, sir, that wouldn't be so much
amiss--would it?" Gammon assured him that it was out of the question;
and gave him some of the reasons for the proposal which he (Mr. Gammon)
had been making. While Gammon fancied that Tag-rag was paying profound
attention to what he was saying, Tag-rag's thoughts had shot far ahead.
He had an only child--a daughter, about twenty years old--Miss Tabitha
Tag-rag; and the delightful possibility of her by-and-by becoming MRS.
TITMOUSE, put her aspiring parent into a perspiration. Into the proposal
just made by Mr. Gammon, Tag-rag fell with great eagerness, which he
attempted to conceal--for what innumerable opportunities would it not
afford him for bringing about the desire of his heart--for throwing the
lovely young couple into each other's way,--endearing them to each
other! Oh, delightful! It really looked almost as if it had been
determined by the powers above that the thing should come to pass! If
Mr. Titmouse did not dine with him, Mrs. and Miss Tag-rag, at Satin
Lodge, Clapham, on the very next Sunday, it should, Tag-rag resolved, be
owing to no fault of _his_.--
Mr. Gammon having arranged everything exactly as he had desired, and
having again enjoined Mr. Tag-rag to absolute secrecy, took his
departure. Mr. Tag-rag, in his excitement, thrust out his hand, and
grasped that of Gammon, which was extended towards him somewhat coldly
and reluctantly. Tag-rag attended him with extreme obsequiousness to the
door; and on his departure, walked back rapidly to his own room, and sat
down for nearly half an hour in a sort of turbid but delicious revery.
Abruptly rising, at length, he clapped his hat on his head, and saying,
as he passed along the shop, that he should soon be back, hurried out
to call upon his future son-in-law, full of affectionate anxiety
concerning his health--and vowing within himself, that henceforth it
should be the study of his life to make his daughter and Titmouse happy!
There could be no doubt of the reality of the event just communicated to
him by Mr. Gammon; for he was one of a well-known firm of solicitors; he
had had an interview on "important business" with Titmouse a fortnight
before, and that _could_ have been nothing but the prodigious event just
communicated to himself. Such things had happened to others--why not to
Tittlebat Titmouse? In short, Tag-rag had no doubt on the matter; and
his heart really yearned towards Titmouse.
Finding that gentleman not at home, Mr. Tag-rag left a most particularly
civil message, half a dozen times repeated, with Mrs. Squallop (to whom
also he was specially civil,) to the effect that he, Mr. Tag-rag, would
be only too happy to see Mr. Titmouse at No. 375, Oxford Street,
whenever it might suit his convenience; that Mr. Tag-rag had something
very particular to say to him about the unpleasant and
_unaccountable_[!] occurrence of yesterday; that Mr. Tag-rag was most
deeply concerned to hear of Mr. Titmouse's indisposition, and anxious to
learn from himself that he had recovered, &c. &c. &c.;--all which,
together with one or two other little matters, which Mrs. Squallop could
not help putting together, satisfied that shrewd lady that "something
was in the wind about Mr. Titmouse;" and made her reflect rather
anxiously on one or two violent scenes she had had with him, and which
_she_ was now ready entirely to forget and forgive. Having thus done all
that at present was in his power to forward the affair, the anxious and
excited Tag-rag returned to his shop; on entering which, one Lutestring,
his principal young man, eagerly apprised him of a claim which he had,
as he imagined, only the moment before, established to the thanks of
Mr. Tag-rag, by having "bundled off, neck and crop, that hodious
Titmouse," who, about five minutes before, had, it seemed, had the
"impudence" to present himself at the shop-door, and walk in as if
nothing had happened!! [Titmouse had so presented himself in consequence
of a call from Mr. Gammon, immediately after his interview with
Tag-rag.]
"You--ordered--Mr. Titmouse--off!!" exclaimed Tag-rag, starting back
aghast, and almost petrifying his voluble and officious assistant.
"Of course, sir," at length exclaimed that person, meekly--"after what
happened yester"----
"Who authorized you, Mr. Lutestring?" inquired Tag-rag, striving to
choke down the rage rising within him.
"Why, sir, I _really_ supposed that"----
"You supposed!! You're a meddling, impertinent, disgusting"---- Suddenly
his face was overspread with smiles, as three or four elegantly dressed
customers entered, whom he received with profuse obeisances. But when
their backs were turned, he directed a lightning look towards
Lutestring, and retreated once more to his room, to meditate on the
agitating events of the last hour. The extraordinary alteration in Mr.
Tag-rag's behavior was attributed by his shopmen to his having been
frightened out of his wits by the threats of Titmouse's lawyer--for such
it was clear the stranger was; and more than one of them stored it up in
their minds as a useful precedent against some future occasion.
Twice afterwards during the day did Tag-rag call at Mr. Titmouse's
lodgings--but in vain; and on returning the third time he felt not a
little disquieted. He determined, however, to call the first thing on
the ensuing morning; if he should then fail of seeing Mr. Titmouse, he
was resolved to go to Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap--and besides,
address a very affectionate letter to Mr. Titmouse. How totally changed
had become all his feelings towards that gentleman within the last few
hours. The more that Tag-rag reflected on Titmouse's conduct, the more
he saw in it to approve of. How steady and regular had he been in his
habits! how civil and obliging! how patient of rebuke! how pleasing in
his manners to the customers! Surely, surely, thought Tag-rag, Titmouse
can't have been four long years in my employ without getting a--sort of
a--feeling--of attachment to me--he'd have left long ago if he hadn't!
It was true there _had_ now and then been tiffs between them; but who
could agree always? Even Mrs. Tag-rag and he, when they were courting,
often fell out with one another!--Tag-rag was now ready to forget and
forgive all--he had never meant any harm to Titmouse. He believed that
poor Tittlebat was an orphan, unhappy soul! alone in the wide
world--_now_ he would become the prey of designing strangers and
adventurers. Tag-rag did not like the appearance of Gammon. No doubt
that person would try and ingratiate himself as much as possible with
Titmouse! Then Titmouse was remarkably good-looking. "I wonder what
Tabby will think of him when she sees him!" How anxious Tittlebat must
be to see her--_his_ daughter! How could Tag-rag make Tittlebat's stay
at his premises (for he could not bring himself to believe that on the
morrow he could not set all right, and disavow the abominable conduct of
Lutestring) agreeable and delightful? He would discharge the first of
his young men that did not show Titmouse proper respect.--What low
lodgings poor Tittlebat lived in!--Why could he not take up his quarters
at Satin Lodge? They always had a nice spare bedroom. Ah! _that_ would
be a stroke! How Tabby could endear herself to him! What a number of
things Mrs. Tag-rag could do to make him comfortable!
About seven o'clock Tag-rag quitted his premises in Oxford Street, for
his country house; and, occupied with these and similar delightful and
anxious thoughts and speculations, hurried along Oxford Street on his
way to the Clapham stage, without thinking of his umbrella, though it
rained fast. When he had taken his place on the coach-box, beside old
Crack, (as he had done almost every night for years,) he was so
unusually silent that Crack naturally thought his best passenger was
going to become bankrupt, or compound with his creditors, or do
something in that line, shortly. Mr. Tag-rag could hardly keep his
temper at the slow pace old Crack was driving at--just when Mr. Tag-rag
would have wished to gallop the whole way. Never had he descended with
so much briskness, as when the coach at length drew up before the little
green gate, which opened on the tidy little gravel walk, which led up to
the little green wooden porch, which sheltered the little door which
admitted you into little Satin Lodge. As Tag-rag stood for a moment
wiping his wet shoes upon the mat, he could not help observing, for the
first time, by the inward light of ten thousand a-year, how _uncommon_
narrow the passage was; and thinking that Satin Lodge would never _do_,
when he should be the father-in-law of a man worth ten thousand
a-year--but he could easily let that house then, and take a large one.
As he hung his hat upon the peg, the perilous insolence of Lutestring
occurred to him; and he deposited such a prodigious, but half-suppressed
execration upon that gentleman's name, as must have sunk a far more
buoyant sinner many fathoms deeper than usual into a certain hot and
deep place that shall be nameless.
Mrs. and Miss Tag-rag were sitting in the front parlor, intending to
take tea as soon as Mr. Tag-rag should have arrived. It was not a large
room, but sweetly furnished, according to the taste of the owners. There
was only one window, and it had a flaunting white summer curtain. The
walls were ornamented with three pictures, in ponderous gilt frames,
being portraits of Mr., Mrs., and Miss Tag-rag; and I do not feel
disposed to say more concerning these pictures, than that in each of
them the _dress_ was done with elaborate exactness--the _faces_ seeming
to have been painted in, for the purpose of setting off and completing
the picture of the dress. The skinny little Miss Tag-rag sat at the
worn-out, jingling pianoforte, causing it to utter--oh, horrid and
doleful sound!--"_The Battle of Prague_." Mrs. Tag-rag, a fat, showily
dressed woman of about fifty, her cap having a prodigious number of
artificial flowers in it, sat reading a profitable volume, entitled
"_Groans from the Bottomless Pit to Awaken Sleeping Sinners_," by (as he
was pleased to dignify himself) _the Rev._ DISMAL HORROR--a very rousing
young dissenting preacher lately come into that neighborhood, and who
had almost frightened into fits half the women and children, and one or
two old men, of his congregation; giving out, among several similarly
cheering intimations, that they must all necessarily be damned unless
they immediately set about making themselves as miserable as possible in
this world. Only the Sunday before, he had pointed out, with awful force
and distinctness, how cards and novels were the devil's traps to catch
souls; and balls and theatres short and easy cuts to----!
He had proved to his trembling female hearers, in effect, that there was
only one way to heaven, _i. e._ through his chapel; that the only safe
mode of spending their time on earth was reading such blessed works as
that which he had just published, and going daily to prayer-meetings.
When, however, a Sunday or two before, he had the assurance to preach a
funeral sermon, to "improve the death"--such being his impressive
phrase--of a Miss Snooks, (who had kept a circulating library in the
neighborhood, but had not been a member of his congregation;) and who,
having been to the theatre on the Thursday night, was taken ill of a
bowel attack on the Friday, and was a "_lifeless corpse_ when the next
Sabbath dawned"--you might have heard a beetle sneeze within any of the
walls, all over the crowded chapel. Two-thirds of the women present,
struck with the awful judgment upon the deceased Miss Snooks, inwardly
made solemn vows never again to enter the accursed walls of a theatre or
concert-room;[11] many determined no longer to subscribe to the
circulating library, ruining their precious souls with light and amusing
reading; and almost all resolved forthwith to become active members of a
sort of religious tract society, which "dear Mr. Horror" had just
established in the neighborhood, for the purpose of giving the sick and
starving poor _spiritual_ food, in the shape of tracts, (chiefly written
by himself,) which might "wean their affections away from this vain
world," and "fix them on better things," rejoicing, in the meanwhile, in
the bitter pangs of destitution--and able to bear them! All this sort of
thing Mr. Horror possibly imagined to be calculated to advance the cause
of real religion! In short, he had created a sort of spiritual fever
about the place which was then just at its height in worthy Mrs.
Tag-rag.
"Well, Dolly, how are you to-night?" inquired Tag-rag, with unusual
briskness, on entering the room.
"Tolerable, thank you, Tag," replied Mrs. Tag-rag, mournfully, with a
sigh, closing the cheerful volume she had been perusing--it having been
recommended the preceding Sunday from the pulpit by its pious and gifted
author, to be read and prayed over every day by every member of his
congregation!
"And how are _you_, Tabby?" said Tag-rag, addressing his daughter. "Come
and kiss me, you little slut--come!"
"No, I sha'n't, pa! Do let me go on with my practising," said Miss
Tag-rag--and twang! twang! went those infernal keys.
"D' ye hear, Tab? Come and kiss me, you little minx"----
"Really, pa, how provoking--just as I am in the middle of the _Cries of
the Wounded_! I sha'n't--that's flat."
The doting parent could not, however, be denied; so he stepped to the
piano, put his arm around his dutiful daughter's neck, kissed her
fondly, and then stood for a moment behind her, admiring her brilliant
execution of The _Trumpet of Victory_. Having changed his coat, and put
on an old pair of shoes, Mr. Tag-rag was comfortable for the evening.
"Tabby plays wonderful well, Dolly, don't she?" said Tag-rag, as the
tea-things were being brought in, by way of beginning a conversation,
while he drew his chair nearer to his wife.
"Ah! I'd a deal rather see her reading something serious--for life is
short, Tag, and eternity's long."
"Botheration!--Stuff!--Tut!" exclaimed Tag-rag!
"You may find it out one day, my dear, when, alas! it's too late"--
"I'll tell you what, Dolly," said Tag-rag, angrily, "you're doing a
great deal too much in this line of business--my house is getting like a
Methodist meeting-house. I can't bear it--I can't! What the deuce is
come to you all in these parts, lately?" Mr. Tag-rag, I should apprise
the reader, had been induced, some three years before, to quit the
Church of England and take up with Mr. Dismal Horror; but his zeal had
by no means kept pace with that of his wife.
"Ah, Tag-rag," replied his wife, with a sigh, "I can only pray for
you--I can do no more"----
"Oh!" exclaimed Tag-rag, with an air of desperate disgust, thrusting his
hands into his pockets, and stretching his legs to their utmost extent
under the table. "I'll tell you what, Mrs. T." he added after a while,
"I like religion well enough--but too much of it no one can stand. Too
much of one thing is good for nothing; you may choke a dog with
pudding;--I sha'n't renew my sittings at Mr. Horror's."
"Oh, dear, dear pa, do! That's a love of a pa!" interposed Miss Tag-rag,
twirling round on her music-stool. "All Clapham's running after
him--he's quite the rage! There's the Dugginses, the Pips, the Jones,
the Maggots,--and, really, Mr. Horror does preach such dreadful things,
it's quite delightful to look round and see all the people with their
eyes and mouths wide open--and ours is such a good pew for seeing--and
Mr. Horror is such a bee--yeautiful preacher--isn't he, ma?"
"Yes, love, he is--but I wish I could see you profit by him, and
preparing for death"----
"Why, ma, how _can_ you go on in that ridiculous way? You know I'm not
twenty yet, however old you and pa may be!"
"Well, well! poor Tabby!" here Mrs. Tag-rag's voice faltered--"a day
will come, when"----
"Play me the _Devil among the Tailors_, or _Copenhagen Waltz_, or
something of that sort, Tabby," said her father, furiously, "or I shall
be sick!--I can't bear it! Curse Mr. Hor"----
"Well!--Oh, my!!--I never!--Mr. Tag-rag!" exclaimed his astounded wife.
"Play away, Tab, or I'll go and sit in the kitchen! They're cheerful
_there_! The next time I come across Mr. Horror, if I don't give him a
bit of my mind"--here he paused, and slapped his hand with much energy
upon the table. Mrs. Tag-rag wiped her eyes, sighed, and resumed her
book. Miss Tag-rag began to make tea, her papa gradually forgetting his
rage, as he fixed his dull gray eyes fondly on the pert skinny
countenance of his daughter.
"By the way, Tag," exclaimed Mrs. Tag-rag, suddenly, but in the same
mournful tone, addressing her husband, "you haven't of course forgot the
flowers for my new bonnet?"
"Never once thought of it," replied Tag-rag, doggedly.
"You haven't! Good gracious! what am I to go to chapel in next Sunday?"
she exclaimed with sudden alarm, closing her book, "and our seat in the
very front of the gallery!--bless me! I shall have a hundred eyes on
me!"
"Now that you're coming down a bit, and dropped out of the clouds--or
p'r'aps I should say--come up from beneath!--Dolly," said her husband,
much relieved, "I'll tell you a bit of news that will, I fancy,
rather"----
"Come! what is it, Tag?" she inquired with a sort of languid curiosity.
"What should you say of a chance of a certain somebody" (here he looked
unutterable things at his daughter) "that shall be nameless, becoming
mistress of ten thousand a-year?"
"Why"--Mrs. Tag-rag changed color--"has any one fallen in love with
Tab?"
"What should you say, Mrs. T., of our Tab marrying a man with ten
thousand a-year? There's for you! Isn't _that_ better than all your
rel---- hem!"
"Oh, Tag, don't say that; but"--here she hastily turned down the leaf of
_Groans from the Bottomless Pit_, and tossed that inestimable work upon
the sofa--"do tell me, lovey! what _are_ you talking about?"
"What indeed, Dolly!--I'm going to have him here to dinner next
Sunday."
Miss Tag-rag having been listening with breathless eagerness to this
little colloquy between her prudent and amiable parents, unconscious of
what she was about, poured almost all the contents of the tea-pot into
the sugar-basin, instead of her papa's and mamma's tea-cups.
"Have _who_, dear Tag?" inquired Mrs. Tag-rag, impatiently.
"Who? why whom but my Tittlebat Titmouse!! You've seen him, and heard me
speak of him often, you know"----
"What!--_that_ odious, nasty"----
"Hush, hush!" involuntarily exclaimed Tag-rag, with an apprehensive
air--"That's all past and gone--I was always a little too hard on him.
Well, anyhow, he's turned up all of a sudden master of ten thousand
a-year. He has indeed--may this piece of toast choke me if he hasn't!"
Mrs. Tag-rag and her daughter sat in speechless wonder.
"Where did he see Tab, Taggy?" inquired at length Mrs. Tag-rag.
"Oh--I--I--why--you see--I don't exactly think _that_ signifies so
much--he _will_ see her, you know, next Sunday."
"So, then, he's positively coming?" inquired Mrs. Tag-rag, with a
fluttered air.
"Y--e--s--I've no doubt."--(I'll discharge Lutestring to-morrow, thought
Tag-rag, with a sharp inward spasm.)
"But aren't we counting our chickens, Taggy, before they're hatched? If
Titmouse is all of a sudden become such a catch, he'll be snapped up in
a minute, you know, of course"----
"Why, you see, Dolly--we're first in the market, I'm sure of that--his
attorney tells me he's to be kept quite snug and quiet under my care
for months, and see no one"----
"My gracious!" exclaimed Mrs. Tag-rag, holding up both her hands--"if
_that_ don't look like a special interposition of Providence, now"----
"So _I_ thought, Tabby, while Mr. Gammon was telling me!" replied her
husband.
"Ah, Tag, there are many of 'em, if we were only to be on the look-out
for them!" said Mrs. Tag-rag, excitedly.
"I _do_ see it all! It's designed by Providence to get them soon
together! When once Mr. Titmouse gets sight of Tabby, and gets into her
company--eh! Tab, lovey! _you'll_ do the rest, hem!" said Tag-rag,
fondly.
"La, pa! how you _do_ go on!" simpered Miss Tag-rag.
"You must do your part, Tab," said her father--"we'll do ours. He'll
bite, you may depend on it, if you manage well!"
"What sort of a looking young man is he, dear pa?" inquired Miss
Tag-rag, blushing, and her heart fluttering very fast.
"Oh, you _must_ have seen him, sweetest"----
"How should I ever notice any one of the lots of young men at the shop,
pa?--I don't at all know him."
"Well--he's the handsomest, most genteel-looking young fellow I ever
came across; he's long been an ornament to my establishment, for his
good looks and civil and obliging manners--quite a treasure! You should
have seen how he _took_ with the ladies of rank always!"----
"Dear me," interrupted Mrs. Tag-rag, anxiously addressing her daughter,
"I hope, Tabby, that Miss Nix will send home your lilac-colored frock by
next Sunday!"
"If she _don't_, ma, I'll take care she never makes anything more for
_me_, that's poz!" replied Miss Tag-rag, earnestly.
"We'll call there to-morrow, love, and hurry her on," said her mother;
and from that moment until eleven o'clock, when the amiable and
interesting trio retired to rest, nothing was talked of but the charming
Titmouse, and the good fortune he so richly deserved, and how long the
courtship was likely to last. Mrs. Tag-rag, who, for the last month or
so, had always remained on her knees before getting into bed, for at
least ten minutes, on this eventful evening compressed her prayers, I
regret to say, into one minute and a half's time, (as for Tag-rag, a
hardened heathen, for all he had taken to hearing Mr. Horror, he always
tumbled prayerless into bed, the moment he was undressed;) while, for
once in a way, Miss Tag-rag, having taken only five minutes to put her
hair into papers, popped into bed directly she had blown the candle out,
without saying _any_ prayers--or even thinking of finishing the novel
which lay under her pillow, and which she had got on the sly from the
circulating library of the late Miss Snooks. For several hours she lay
in a delicious revery, imagining herself become Mrs. Tittlebat Titmouse,
riding about Clapham in a handsome carriage, going to the play every
night; and what would the three Miss Knippses say when they heard of
it?--they'd burst. And such a handsome man, too!
She sank, at length, into unconsciousness, amid a soft confusion of
glistening white satin--favors--bridesmaids--Mrs. Tittlebat
Tit--Tit--Tit--Tit--mouse.
Titmouse, about half-past nine o'clock on the ensuing morning, was
sitting in his little room in a somewhat troubled humor, musing on many
things, and little imagining the intense interest he had excited in the
feelings of the amiable occupants of Satin Lodge, when a knock at his
door startled him out of his revery. Guess his amazement to see, on
opening it, Mr. Tag-rag!
"Your most obedient, sir," commenced that gentleman, in a subdued and
obsequious manner, plucking off his hat the instant that he saw
Titmouse. "I hope you're better, sir!--Been very uneasy, sir, about
you."
"Please to walk in, sir," replied Titmouse, not a little flustered--"I'm
better, sir, thank you."
"Happy to hear it, sir?--But am also come to offer humble apologies for
the rudeness of that upstart that was so rude to you yesterday, at my
premises--know whom I mean, eh?--Lutestring--I shall get rid of him, I
do think"----
"Thank you, sir---- But--but--when I was in your employ"----
"_Was_ in my employ!" interrupted Tag-rag, with a sigh, gazing earnestly
at him--"It's no use trying to hide it any longer! I've all along seen
you was a world too good for--in fact, quite above your situation in
_my_ poor shop! I _may_ have been wrong, Mr. Titmouse," he continued
diffidently, as he placed himself on what seemed the only chair in the
room, (Titmouse sitting on a common wooden stool)--"but I did it for the
best--eh?--don't you understand me, Mr. Titmouse?" Titmouse continued
looking on the floor incredulously, sheepishly, and somewhat sullenly.
"Very much obliged, sir," at length he answered--"but must say you've
rather a funny way of showing it, sir. Look at the sort of life you've
led me for this"----
"Ah! knew you'd say so! But I can lay my hand on my heart, Mr. Titmouse,
and declare to God--I can, indeed, Mr. Titmouse"---- Titmouse preserved
a very embarrassing silence.--"_See_ I'm out of your good
books--But--won't you forget and forgive, Mr. Titmouse? I _meant_ well.
Nay, I humbly beg forgiveness for everything you've not liked in me. Can
I say more? Come, Mr. Titmouse, you've a noble nature, and I ask
forgiveness!" cried Tag-rag, softly and earnestly: you would have
thought that his life depended on his success in what he was doing!
"You--you ought to do it before the whole shop, if you're in earnest,"
replied Titmouse, a little relenting--"for they've all seen your goings
on."
"Them!--the brutes!--the vulgar fellows, eugh!--you and I, Mr. Titmouse,
are a _leetle_ above such cattle as them! D' ye think we ought to mind
what _servants_ say?--Only you say the word, and I make a clean sweep of
'em all; you shall have the premises to yourself, Mr. Titmouse, within
an hour after any of those chaps shows you the least glimmer of
disrespect."
"Ah! I don't know--you've used me most uncommon bad, 'pon my soul!--far
worse than they have--you've nearly broke my heart, sir! You have!"
"Well, my womankind at home are right, after all! They told me all along
I was going the wrong way to work, when I said how I tried to keep your
pride down, and prevent you from having your head turned by knowing your
good looks! Over and over again, my little girl has said, with tears in
her dear eyes, 'you'll break his spirit, dear papa--if he _is_ handsome,
wasn't it God that made him so?'" The little frostwork which Titmouse
had thrown around his heart, began to melt like snow under sunbeams.
"Ah, Mr. Titmouse, Mr. Titmouse! the women are always right, and _we're_
always wrong," continued Tag-rag, earnestly, perceiving his advantage.
"Upon my soul I could kick myself for my stupidity, and cruelty too!"
"Ah, I should think so! No one knows what I've suffered! And now," added
Titmouse, suddenly, "that I'm--I suppose you've heard it all,
sir?--what's in the wind--and all that?"
"Yes, sir--Mr. Gammon (that most respectable gentleman) and I have had
a long talk yesterday about you, in which he did certainly tell me
everything--nothing like confidence, Mr. Titmouse, when gentleman meets
gentleman, you know! Oh, Lord! the news is really delightful!
delightful!"
"_Isn't_ it, sir?" eagerly interrupted Titmouse, his eyes glistening
with sudden rapture.
"Ah! ten thous--I _must_ shake hands with you, my dear Mr. Titmouse;"
quoth Tag-rag, with affectionate excitement--and, for the first time in
their lives, their hands touched, Tag-rag squeezing that of Titmouse
with energetic cordiality; while he added, with a little emotion in his
tone--"Thomas Tag-rag may be a plain-spoken and wrong-headed man, Mr.
Titmouse--but he's a warm heart, I assure you!"
"And did Mr. Gammon tell you _all_, sir?" eagerly interrupted Titmouse.
"Everything--everything; quite confidential, I assure you, for he saw
the interest I felt in you!"
"And did he say about my--hem!--eh? my stopping a few weeks longer with
you?" inquired Titmouse, chagrin overspreading his features.
"I think he did, indeed, Mr. Titmouse! He's quite bent on it, sir! And
so would any true friend of yours be--because you see!"--here he dropped
his voice, and looked very mysteriously at Titmouse--"in short I quite
agree with Mr. Gammon!"
"Do you indeed, sir?" exclaimed Titmouse, with rather an uneasy look.
"I do, i' faith! Why, they'd give thousands and thousands to get you out
of the way--and what's _money_ to _them_? But they must look very sharp
that get at you in the premises of Thomas Tag-rag, I warrant
'em!--Talking of that, ah, ha!--it _will_ be a funny thing to see you,
Mr. Titmouse--Squire Titmouse--ah, ha, ha!"
"You won't hardly expect me to go out with _goods_, I suppose, sir?"
inquired Titmouse, somewhat anxiously.
"Ha, ha, ha!--Ha, ha, ha!--Might as well ask me if I'd clean that beast
Lutestring's shoes! No, no, my dear Mr. Titmouse, you and I have done
with each other as master and servant; it's only as friends that we know
each other now!--You may say and do whatever you like, and come and go
when and where you like!--It's true it will make my other hands rather
jealous, and get me into trouble; but what do I care? Suppose they _do_
all give me warning for your sake? Let 'em go, say I!" He snapped his
fingers with an air of defiance. "_Your_ looks and manners would keep a
shop full of customers--one Titmouse is worth a hundred of them."
"'Pon my soul, you speak most uncommon gentleman-like, sir, certainly!"
said Titmouse, with a little excitement--"and if you'd only
_always_--but that's all past and gone; and I've no objections to say at
once, that all the articles I may want in your line I'll have at your
establishment, pay cash down, and ask for no discount. And I'll send all
my friends, for, in course, sir, you know I shall have lots of them!"
"Don't forget your oldest, your truest, your humblest friend, Mr.
Titmouse," said Tag-rag, with a cringing air.
"That I won't!" replied Titmouse, heatedly.
[It flashed across his mind that a true and old friend would be only too
happy to do him some such trifling service as to lend him a ten-pound
note.]
"Hem!--Now, _are_ you such a friend, Mr. Tag-rag?" cried he, sheepishly.
"Am I?--Can you doubt me? Try me! See what I would not do for you!
Friend, indeed!" and he looked quite fondly at Titmouse.
"Well, I believe you; sir! And the fact is, a--a--a--you see, Mr.
Tag-rag, though all this heap of money's _coming_ to me, I'm precious
low just _now_"----
"Ye--e--e--s, Mr. Titmouse," quoth Tag-rag, anxiously; his dull gray eye
fixed on that of Titmouse steadfastly.
"Well--if you've a mind to prove your words, Mr. Tag-rag, and don't mind
advancing me a ten-pound note"----
"Hem!" involuntarily uttered Tag-rag, so suddenly and violently, that it
made Titmouse start. Then Tag-rag's face flushed over; he twirled about
his watch-key rapidly, and wriggled about in his chair with visible
agitation.
"Oh, you aren't going to do it! If so, you'd better say it at once,"
quoth Titmouse, rather cavalierly.
"Why--_was_ ever anything so unfortunate?" stammered Tag-rag. "That
cursed lot of French goods I bought only yesterday, to be paid for this
very morning--and it will drain me of every penny!"
"Ah--yes! True! Well, it don't much signify," said Titmouse, carelessly,
running his hand through his bushy hair. "In fact, I needn't have
bothered an old friend at all, now I think of it--Mr. Gammon says he's
my banker to any amount. I beg pardon, I'm sure"----
Tag-rag was in a horrid dilemma. He felt so flustered by the suddenness
and seriousness of the thing, that he could not see his way plain in any
direction.
"Let me see," at length he stammered; and pulling a ready-reckoner out
of his pocket, he affected to be consulting it, as if to ascertain
merely the state of his banker's account, but really desiring a few
moments' time to collect his thoughts. 'Twas in vain, however; nothing
occurred to him; he saw no way of escape; his old friend the devil
deserted him for a moment--supplying him with no ready lie to meet the
exigency. He must, he feared, cash up! "Well," said he--"it certainly
_is_ rather unfortunate, just at this precise moment; but I'll step to
the shop, and see how my ready-money matters stand. It sha'n't be a
trifle, Mr. Titmouse, that shall stand between us. But--if I _should_ be
hard run--perhaps--eh? Would a five-pound note do?"
"Why--a--a--certainly, if it wouldn't suit you to advance the ten"----
"I dare say," interrupted Tag-rag, a trifle relieved, "I shall be able
to accommodate you _so_ far. Perhaps you'll step on to the shop
presently, and then we can talk over matters!--By the way, did you ever
see anything so odd? forgot the main thing! _Do_ come and take your
mutton with me at Clapham next Sunday--my womankind will be quite
delighted. Nay, 'tis _their_ invitation--ha, ha!"
"You're uncommon polite," replied Titmouse, coloring with pleasure. Here
seemed the first pale primrose of the coming spring--an invitation to
Satin Lodge!
"The politeness--the favor--will be yours, Mr. Titmouse! I'm uncommon
proud of your coming! We shall be quite alone! have you all to
ourselves; only me, my wife, and daughter--an only child, Mr.
Titmouse--_such_ a child! She's really often said to me, 'I
wonder'--but,---- I won't make you vain, eh? _Shall_ I call it a
fixture?"
"'Pon my life, Mr. Tag-rag, you're monstrous uncommon polite. It's true,
I was going to dine with Mr. Gammon"----
"Oh! pho! (I mean no disrespect, mind!) he's only a bachelor--_I've_ got
ladies in the case, and all that--eh, Mr. Titmouse? and a _young_ one!"
"Well, thank you, sir. Since you're so pressing"----
"That's it! An engagement, poz!--Satin Lodge--for Sunday next," said
Tag-rag, rising and looking at his watch. "Time for me to be off. See
you soon at the shop? Soon arrange that little matter of business, eh?
You understand? Good-by! good-by!" and shaking Titmouse cordially by the
hand, Tag-rag took his departure. As he hurried on to his shop, he felt
in a most painful perplexity about this loan of five pounds. It was
truly like squeezing five drops of blood out of his heart. But what was
to be done? Could he offend Titmouse? Where was he to stop, if he once
began? Dare he ask for security? Suppose the whole affair should after
all turn into smoke?
Now, consider the folly of Tag-rag. Here was he in all this terrible
pucker about advancing _five pounds_ on the strength of prospects and
chances which he had deemed safe for adventuring _his daughter_
upon--her, the only object on earth, except money, that he regarded with
anything like sincere affection. How was this? The splendor of the
future possible good fortune of his daughter, might, perhaps, have
dazzled and confused his perceptions. Then, again, _that_ was a _remote_
contingent venture; but this sudden appeal to his pocket--the demand of
an immediate outlay and venture--was an instant pressure, and he felt it
severely. Immediate profit was everything to Tag-rag--'twas his very
life's blood! He was, in truth, a _tradesman to his heart's core_. If he
could have seen the immediate _quid pro quo_, or could, at all events,
have got, if only by way of earnest, as it were, a bit of poor
Titmouse's heart, and locked it up in his desk, he would not have cared
so much; it would have been a little in his line;--but here was a
FIVE-POUND NOTE going out forthwith, and nothing immediate, visible,
palpable, replacing it. Oh! Titmouse had unconsciously pulled Tag-rag's
very heart-strings!
Observe, discriminating reader, that there is all the difference in the
world between a TRADESMAN and a MERCHANT; and, moreover, that it is not
every _tradesman_ that is a Tag-rag.
All these considerations combined to keep Tag-rag in a perfect fever of
doubt and anxiety, which several hearty curses (I regret to say) failed
in effectually relieving. By the time, however, that Titmouse had made
his appearance at Mr. Tag-rag's shop, with a sufficiently sheepish air,
and was beginning to run the gantlet of grinning contempt from the
"_gents_" on each side of the shop, Tag-rag had determined on the course
he should pursue in the very embarrassing matter above referred to. To
the inexpressible amazement of all present, he bolted out of a little
counting-house or side-room, hastened to meet Titmouse with outstretched
hand and cordial speech, drew him into his little room, and shut the
door. There Tag-rag informed his flurried young friend that he had made
arrangements (with a little inconvenience, which, however, between
friends, signified nothing) for lending Titmouse five pounds.
"And, as life's uncertain, my dear Mr. Titmouse," said Tag-rag, as
Titmouse, with ill-disguised ecstasy, put the five-pound note into his
pocket--"even between the dearest friends--eh? Understand? It's not
_you_ I fear, nor you me, because we've confidence in each other. But if
anything should happen, those we leave behind us"---- Here he took out
of his desk an "I. O. U. £5," ready drawn up and dated--"a mere slip--a
word or two--is satisfaction to both of us."
"Oh yes, sir! yes, sir!--anything!" said Titmouse; and hastily taking
the pen proffered him, signed his name, on which Tag-rag felt a little
relieved. Lutestring was then summoned into the room, and thus (not a
little to his disgust and astonishment) addressed by his imperious
employer: "Mr. Lutestring, you will have the goodness to see that Mr.
Titmouse, while he may do me the honor to condescend to be here, is
treated by every person in my establishment with the utmost possible
respect. Whoever treats this gentleman with the slightest disrespect
isn't any longer a servant of mine. D' ye hear me, Mr. Lutestring?"
added Tag-rag, sternly, observing a very significant glance of mingled
hatred and wonder which Lutestring directed towards Titmouse. "D' ye
hear me, sir?"
"Oh, yes, sir! yes, sir! your orders shall be attended to," he replied
in as insolent a tone as he could venture upon, leaving the room with a
half audible whistle of contempt, while a grin overspread his features.
Within five minutes he had filled, the mind of every shopman in the
establishment with feelings of mingled wonder, hatred, and fear towards
Titmouse. What, thought they, could have happened? What was Mr. Tag-rag
about? This was all of a piece with his rage at Lutestring the day
before. "Cuss Titmouse! and Tag-rag too!" said or thought every one of
them!
Titmouse, for the remainder of the day, felt, as may be imagined, but
little at his ease; for--to say nothing of his insuperable repugnance to
the discharge of any of his former duties--his uneasiness under the
oppressive civilities of Mr. Tag-rag; and the evident disgust towards
him entertained by his companions; many most important considerations
arising out of recent and coming events--his altering
circumstances--were momentarily forcing themselves upon his attention.
The first of these was his _hair_; for Heaven seemed to have suddenly
given him the long-coveted means of changing its detested hue; and the
next was _an eyeglass_, without which, he had long felt his appearance
and appointments to be painfully incomplete. Early in the afternoon,
therefore, on the readily admitted plea of important business, he
obtained the permission of the obsequious Mr. Tag-rag to depart for the
day; and instantly directed his steps to the well-known shop of a
fashionable perfumer and perruquier, in Bond Street--well-known to
those, at least, who were in the habit of glancing at the enticing
advertisements in the newspapers. Having watched through the window till
the coast was clear, (for he felt a natural delicacy in asking for a
hair-dye before people who could in an instant perceive his urgent
occasion for it,) he entered the shop, where a well-dressed gentleman
was sitting behind the counter reading. He was handsome; and his
elaborately curled hair was of a heavenly black (so at least Titmouse
considered it) which was better than a thousand printed advertisements
of the celebrated fluid which formed the chief commodity there vended.
Titmouse with a little hesitation, asked this gentleman what was the
price of their article "for turning _light_ hair black"--and was
answered--"only seven and sixpence for the smaller-sized bottle." One
was in a twinkling placed upon the counter, where it lay like a
miniature mummy, swathed, as it were, in manifold advertisements.
"You'll find the fullest directions within, and testimonials from the
highest nobility to the wonderful efficacy of the
'CYANOCHAITANTHROPOPOION.'"[12]
"_Sure_ it will do, sir?" inquired Titmouse, anxiously.
"Is _my_ hair dark enough to your taste, sir?" said the gentleman, with
a calm and bland manner--"because I owe it entirely to this invaluable
specific."
"Do you, indeed, sir?" inquired Titmouse: adding with a sigh, "but,
between ourselves, look at mine!"--and, lifting off his hat for a
moment, he exhibited a great crop of bushy, carroty hair.
"Whew! rather ugly that, sir!"--exclaimed the gentleman, looking very
serious--"What a curse it is to be born with such hair, isn't it?"
"'Pon my life I think so, sir!" answered Titmouse, mournfully; "and do
you really say, sir, that this what's-its-name turned _yours_ of that
beautiful black?"
"Think? 'Pon my honor, sir,--certain; no mistake, I assure you! I was
fretting myself into my grave about the color of my hair! Why, sir,
there was a nobleman in here (I don't like to mention names) the other
day, with a head that seemed as if it had been dipped into water, and
then powdered with brick-dust; but--I assure you, the
Cyanochaitanthropopoion was too much for it--it turned black in a very
short time. You should have seen his lordship's ecstasy--[the speaker
saw that Titmouse would swallow anything; so he went on with a confident
air]--and in a month's time he had married a beautiful woman whom he had
loved from a child, but who had vowed she could never bring herself to
marry a man with such a head of hair."
"How long does it take to do all this, sir?" interrupted Titmouse,
eagerly, with a beating heart.
"Sometimes two--sometimes three days. In four days' time, I'll answer
for it, your most intimate friend would not know you. My wife did not
know me for a long while, and wouldn't let me salute her--ha, ha!" Here
another customer entered; and Titmouse, laying down the five-pound note
he had squeezed out of Tag-rag, put the wonder-working bottle into his
pocket, and on receiving his change, departed, bursting with eagerness
to try the effects of the Cyanochaitanthropopoion. Within half an hour's
time he might have been seen driving a hard bargain with a pawnbroker
for a massive-looking eyeglass, upon which, as it hung suspended in the
window, he had for months cast a longing eye; and he eventually
purchased it (his eyesight, I need hardly say, was perfect) for only
fifteen shillings. After taking a hearty dinner in a little dusky
eating-house in Rupert Street, frequented by fashionable-looking
foreigners, with splendid heads of curling hair and mustaches, he
hastened home, eager to commence the grand experiment. Fortunately, he
was undisturbed that evening. Having lit his candle, and locked his
door, with tremulous fingers he opened the papers enveloping the little
bottle; and glancing over their contents, got so inflamed with the
numberless instances of its efficacy, detailed in brief but glowing
terms--as--the "Duke of....--the Countess of....--the Earl of, &c. &c.
&c. &c.--the lovely Miss----, the celebrated Sir Little Bull's-eye, (who
was so gratified that he allowed his name to be used)--all of whom, from
having hair of the reddest possible description, were now possessed of
raven-hued locks"--that he threw down the paper, and hurriedly got the
cork out of the bottle. Having turned up his coat-cuffs, he commenced
the application of the Cyanochaitanthropopoion, rubbing it into his
hair, eyebrows, and whiskers, with all the energy he was capable of, for
upwards of half an hour. Then he read over again every syllable on the
papers in which the bottle had been wrapped; and about eleven o'clock,
having given sundry curious glances at the glass, got into bed, full of
exciting hopes and delightful anxieties concerning the success of the
great experiment he was trying. He could not sleep for several hours. He
dreamed a rapturous dream--that he bowed to a gentleman with coal-black
hair, whom he fancied he had seen before--and suddenly discovered that
he was only looking at _himself_ in a glass!!--This awoke him. Up he
jumped--sprang to his little glass breathlessly--but ah! merciful
Heavens! he almost dropped down dead! His hair was perfectly
_green_--there could be no mistake about it. He stood staring in the
glass in speechless horror, his eyes and mouth distended to their
utmost, for several minutes. Then he threw himself on the bed, and felt
fainting. Out he presently jumped again, in a kind of ecstasy--rubbed
his hair desperately and wildly about--again looked into the
glass--there it was, rougher than before; but eyebrows, whiskers, and
head--all were, if anything, of a more vivid and brilliant green.
Despair came over him. What had all his past troubles been to
this?--what was to become of him? He got into bed again, and burst into
a perspiration. Two or three times he got into and out of bed, to look
at himself--on each occasion deriving only more terrible confirmation
than before, of the disaster which had befallen him. After lying still
for some minutes, he got out of bed, and kneeling down, tried to say his
prayers; but it was in vain--and he rose half choked. It was plain he
must have his head shaved, and wear a wig, which would be making an old
man of him at once. Getting more and more disturbed in his mind, he
dressed himself, half determined on starting off to Bond Street, and
breaking every pane of glass in the shop window of the infernal impostor
who had sold him the liquid which had so frightfully disfigured him. As
he stood thus irresolute, he heard the step of Mrs. Squallop approaching
his door, and recollected that he had ordered her to bring up his
tea-kettle about that time. Having no time to take his clothes off, he
thought the best thing he could do, would be, to pop into bed again,
draw his nightcap down to his ears and eyebrows, pretend to be asleep,
and, turning his back towards the door, have a chance of escaping the
observation of his landlady. No sooner thought of, than done. Into bed
he jumped, and drew the clothes over him--not aware, however, that in
his hurry he had left his legs, with boots and trousers on, exposed to
view--an unusual spectacle to his landlady, who had, in fact, scarcely
ever known him in bed at so late an hour before. He lay as still as a
mouse. Mrs. Squallop, after glancing with surprise at his legs,
happening to direct her eyes towards the window, beheld a small bottle
standing there--only half of whose dark contents were remaining. Oh
gracious!--of course it must be POISON, and Mr. Titmouse must be
dead!--In a sudden fright she dropped the kettle, plucked the clothes
off the trembling Titmouse, and cried out--"Oh, Mr. Titmouse! Mr.
Titmouse! what _have_ you been"----
"Well, ma'am, what the devil do you mean? How dare you"---- commenced
Titmouse, suddenly sitting up, and looking furiously at Mrs. Squallop.
An inconceivably strange and horrid figure he looked. He had all his day
clothes on; a white cotton nightcap was drawn down to his very eyes,
like a man going to be hanged; his face was very pale, and his whiskers
were of a bright green color.
"Lard a-mighty!" exclaimed Mrs. Squallop, faintly, the moment that this
strange apparition had presented itself; and sinking on the chair, she
pointed with a dismayed air to the ominous-looking object standing on
the window shelf. Titmouse thence inferred that she had found out the
true state of the case. "Well--_isn't_ it an infernal shame, Mrs.
Squallop?" said he, getting off the bed; and, plucking off his nightcap,
he exhibited the full extent of his misfortune. "What d'ye think of
_that_!" he exclaimed, staring wildly at her. Mrs. Squallop gave a faint
shriek, turned her head aside, and motioned him away.
"I shall go mad--I SHALL!" cried Titmouse, tearing his green hair.
"Oh Lord!--oh Lord!" groaned Mrs. Squallop, evidently expecting him to
leap upon her. Presently, however, she a little recovered her presence
of mind; and Titmouse, stuttering with fury, explained to her what had
taken place. As he went on, Mrs. Squallop became less and less able to
control herself, and at length burst into a fit of convulsive laughter,
and sat holding her hands to her fat shaking sides, and appearing likely
to tumble off her chair. Titmouse was almost on the point of striking
her! At length, however, the fit went off; and wiping her eyes, she
expressed the greatest commiseration for him, and proposed to go down
and fetch up some soft soap and flannel, and try what "a good hearty
wash would do." Scarce sooner said than done--but, alas, in vain! Scrub,
scrub--lather, lather, did they both; but, the instant that the
soap-suds had been washed off, there was the head as green as ever!
"Oh, murder, murder! what _am_ I to do, Mrs. Squallop?" groaned
Titmouse, having taken another look at himself in the glass.
"Why--really I'd be off to a police-office, and have 'em all taken up,
if as how I was _you!_" quoth Mrs. Squallop.
"No--See if I don't take that bottle, and make the fellow that sold it
me swallow what's left--and I'll smash in his shop front besides!"
"Oh, you won't--you mustn't--not on no account! Stop at home a bit, and
be quiet; it may go off with all this washing, in the course of the day.
Soft soap is an uncommon strong thing for getting colors
out--but--a--a--excuse me now, Mr. Titmouse"--said Mrs. Squallop,
seriously--"why wasn't you satisfied with the hair God Almighty had
given you? D' ye think He didn't know a deal better than you what was
best for you? I'm blest if I don't think this is a judgment on you, when
one comes to consider!"
"What's the use of your standing preaching to me in this way, Mrs.
Squallop?" said Titmouse, first with amazement, and then with fury in
his manner--"A'n't I half mad without it? Judgment or no
judgment--where's the harm of my wanting black hair any more than black
trousers? That a'n't _your own_ hair, Mrs. Squallop--you're as gray as a
badger underneath--'pon my soul! I've often remarked it--I _have_, 'pon
my soul!"
"I'll tell you what, Mr. Himperance!" furiously exclaimed Mrs. Squallop,
"you're a liar! And you deserve what you've got! It _is_ a judgment, and
I hope it will stick by you--so take _that_ for your sauce, you vulgar
fellow!" (snapping her fingers at him.) "Get rid of your green hair if
you can! It's only carrot _tops_ instead of carrot _roots_--and some
likes one, some the other--ha! ha! ha!"
"I'll tell you what, Mrs. Squ"---- he commenced, but she had gone,
having slammed to the door behind her with all her force; and Titmouse
was left alone in a half frantic state, in which he continued for nearly
two hours. Once again he read over the atrocious puffs which had
over-night inflated him to such a degree, and he now saw that they were
all lies. This is a sample of them:
"This divine fluid (as it was enthusiastically styled to the
inventor, by the lovely Duchess of Dunderwhistle) possesses the
inestimable and astonishing quality of changing hair, of whatever
color, to a dazzling jet-black; at the same time imparting to it a
rich glossy appearance, which wonderfully contributes to the
imposing _tout-ensemble_ presented by those who use it. That
well-known ornament of the circle of fashion, the young and lovely
Mrs. Fitzfrippery, owned to the proprietor that to this surprising
fluid it was that she was indebted for those unrivalled raven
ringlets which attracted the eyes of envying and admiring crowds,"
and so forth.
A little farther on:--
"This exquisite effect is not _in all cases_ produced
instantaneously; much will of course depend (as the celebrated M.
Dupuytren, of the Hôtel Dieu, at Paris, informed the inventor) on
the physical idiosyncrasy of the party using it, with reference to
the constituent particles of the coloring matter constituting the
fluid in the capillary vessels. Often a single application suffices
to change the most hopeless-looking head of red hair to as deep a
black; but, not unfrequently, the hair _passes through intermediate
shades and tints_--all, however, ultimately settling into a deep
and permanent black."
This passage not a little revived the drooping spirits of Titmouse.
Accidentally, however, an asterisk at the last word in the above
sentence, directed his eye to a note at the bottom of the page, printed
in such minute type as would have baffled any but the strongest sight
and most determined eye to read, and which said note was the
following:--
"Though cases _do_, undoubtedly, occasionally occur, in which the
native inherent indestructible qualities of the hair defy all
attempts at change or even modification, and resist even _this_
potent remedy: of which, however, in all his experience" (the
wonderful specific has been invented for about _six months_) "the
inventor has known but very few instances."
But to this exceedingly select class of unfortunate incurables, poor
Titmouse, alas! entertained a dismal suspicion that _he_ belonged.
"Look, sir! Look! Only look here what your cussed stuff has done to my
hair!" said Titmouse, on presenting himself soon after to the gentleman
who had sold him the infernal liquid; and, taking off his hat, exposed
his green hair. The gentleman, however, did not appear at all surprised,
or discomposed.
"Ah--yes! I see--I see. You're in the intermediate stage. It differs in
different people"----
"Differs, sir! I'm going mad! I look like a green monkey--Cuss me if I
don't!"
"In _me_, now," replied the gentleman, with a matter-of-fact air, "the
color was a strong _yellow_. But have you read the explanations that are
given in the wrapper?"
"Read 'em?" echoed Titmouse, furiously--"I should think so? Much good
they do _me_! Sir, you're a humbug!--an impostor! I'm a sight to be seen
for the rest of my life! Look at me, sir! Eyebrows, whiskers, and all!"
"_Rather_ a singular appearance, just at present, I must own," said the
gentleman, his face turning suddenly red all over with the violent
effort he was making to prevent an explosion of laughter. He soon,
however, recovered himself, and added coolly--"If you'll only
persevere"----
"Persevere be d----d!" interrupted Titmouse, violently clapping his hat
on his head, "I'll teach you to _persevere_ in taking in the public!
I'll have a warrant out against you in no time!"
"Oh, my dear sir, I'm accustomed to all this!" said the gentleman,
coolly.
"The--devil--you--are!" gasped Titmouse, quite aghast.
"Oh, often--often, while the liquid is performing the first stage of the
change; but, in a day or two afterwards, the parties generally come back
smiling into my shop, with heads as black as crows!"
"No! But really--do they, sir?" interrupted Titmouse, drawing a long
breath.
"Hundreds, I may say thousands, my dear sir! And one lady gave me a
picture of herself, in her black hair, to make up for her abuse of me
when it was in a puce color--Fact, honor!"
"But do you recollect any one's hair turning _green_, and then getting
black?" inquired Titmouse, with trembling anxiety.
"Recollect any? Fifty at least. For instance, there was Lord Albert
Addlehead--but why should I mention names? I know hundreds! But
everything is honor and confidential _here_!"
"And did Lord what's-his-name's hair grow green, and then black; and was
it at first as light as mine?"
"His hair was redder, and in consequence it became greener, and now is
blacker than ever yours will be."
"Well, if I and my landlady have this morning used an ounce, we've used
a quarter of a pound of soft soap in"----
"Soft soap!--soft soap!" cried out the gentleman, with an air of sudden
alarm--"That explains all," (he forgot how well it had been already
explained by him.) "By Heavens, sir!--soft soap! You may have ruined
your hair forever!" Titmouse opened his eyes and mouth with a start of
terror, it not occurring to his astute mind that the intolerable green
had preceded, not followed, the use of the soft soap. "Go home, my dear
sir! God bless you--go home, as you value your hair; take this small
bottle of DAMASCUS CREAM, and rub it in before it's too late; and then
use the remainder of the"----
"Then you don't think it's already too late?" inquired Titmouse,
faintly; and, having been assured to the contrary--having asked the
price of the Damascus cream, which was "_only_ three-and-sixpence,"
(stamp included)--he purchased and paid for it with a rueful air, and
took his departure. He sneaked homeward along the streets with the air
of a pickpocket, fearful that every one he met was an officer who had
his eye on him. He was not, in fact, very far off the mark; for many a
person smiled, and stared, and turned round to look at him as he went
along.