no imaginary character, we relate no invented story. Perhaps a more
perfect specimen of the shrewd and clever man converted into the local
and domestic tyrant, by having too much of his own humor, never was
beheld; but the genus to which Johnny Darbyshire belonged is far from
extinct. In the nooks of England there are not a few of them yet to be
found in all their froward glory; and in the most busy cities, though
the great prominences of their eccentricities are rubbed off by daily
concussion with men as hard-headed as themselves, we see glimpses
beneath the polished surface of what they would be in ruder and
custom-freer scenes. The Johnny Darbyshires may be said to be instances
of English independence run to seed.
THE GRIDIRON.
BY SAMUEL LOVER.
A certain old gentleman in the west of Ireland, whose love of the
ridiculous quite equalled his taste for claret and fox-hunting, was
wont, upon festive occasions, when opportunity offered, to amuse his
friends by _drawing out_ one of his servants, exceedingly fond of what
he termed his "thravels," and in whom, a good deal of whim, some queer
stories, and perhaps, more than all, long and faithful services, had
established a right of loquacity. He was one of those few trusty and
privileged domestics, who, if his master unheedingly uttered a rash
thing in a fit of passion, would venture to set him right. If the squire
said, "I'll turn that rascal off," my friend Pat would say, "Troth you
won't, sir"; and Pat was always right, for if any altercation arose upon
the "subject-matter in hand," he was sure to throw in some good reason,
either from former services,--general good conduct,--or the delinquent's
"wife and children," that always turned the scale.
But I am digressing: on such merry meetings as I have alluded to, the
master, after making certain "approaches," as a military man would say,
as the preparatory steps in laying siege to some _extravaganza_ of his
servant, might, perchance, assail Pat thus: "By the by, Sir John
(addressing a distinguished guest), Pat has a very curious story, which
something you told me to-day reminds me of. You remember, Pat (turning
to the man, evidently pleased at the notice thus paid to himself),--you
remember that queer adventure you had in France?"
"Troth I do, sir," grins forth Pat.
"What!" exclaims Sir John, in feigned surprise, "was Pat ever in
France?"
"Indeed he was," cries mine host; and Pat adds, "Ay, and farther, plaze
your honor."
"I assure you, Sir John," continues my host, "Pat told me a story once
that surprised me very much, respecting the ignorance of the French."
"Indeed!" rejoined the baronet; "really, I always supposed the French to
be a most accomplished people."
"Troth, then, they're not, sir," interrupts Pat.
"O, by no means," adds mine host, shaking his head emphatically.
"I believe, Pat, 'twas when you were crossing the Atlantic?" says the
master, turning to Pat with a seductive air, and leading into the "full
and true account"--(for Pat had thought fit to visit _North Amerikay_,
for "a raison he had," in the autumn of the year ninety-eight).
"Yes, sir," says Pat, "the broad Atlantic,"--a favorite phrase of his,
which he gave with a brogue as broad, almost, as the Atlantic itself.
"It was the time I was lost in crassin' the broad Atlantic, a comin'
home," began Pat, decoyed into the recital; "whin the winds began to
blow, and the sae to rowl, that you'd think the _Colleen Dhas_ (that was
her name), would not have a mast left but what would rowl out of her.
"Well, sure enough, the masts went by the board, at last, and the pumps
were choked (divil choke them for that same), and av coorse the water
gained an us; and troth, to be filled with water is neither good for man
or baste; and she was sinkin' fast, settlin' down, as the sailors call
it; and faith I never was good at settlin' down in my life, and I liked
it then less nor ever; accordingly we prepared for the worst and put out
the boat and got a sack o' bishkits and a cask o' pork, and a kag o'
wather, and a thrifle o' rum aboord, and any other little matthers we
could think iv in the mortial hurry we wor in,--and faith there was no
time to be lost, for, my darlint, the _Colleen Dhas_ went down like a
lump o' lead, afore we wor many sthrokes o' the oar away from her.
"Well, we dhrifted away all that night, and next mornin' we put up a
blanket an the end av a pole as well as we could, and then we sailed
iligant; for we darn't show a stitch o' canvas the night before, bekase
it was blowin' like bloody murther, savin' your presence, and sure it's
the wondher of the world we worn't swally'd alive by the ragin' sae.
"Well, away we wint, for more nor a week, and nothin' before our two
good-lookin' eyes but the canophy iv heaven, and the wide ocean--the
broad Atlantic--not a thing was to be seen but the sae and the sky; and
though the sae and the sky is mighty purty things in themselves, throth
they're no great things when you've nothin' else to look at for a week
together,--and the barest rock in the world, so it was land, would be
more welkim. And then, soon enough, throth, our provisions began to run
low, the bishkits, and the wather, and the rum--throth _that_ was gone
first of all--God help uz--and oh! it was thin that starvation began to
stare us in the face,--'O, murther, murther, Captain darlint,' says I,
'I wish we could land anywhere,' says I.
"'More power to your elbow, Paddy, my boy,' says he, 'for sitch a good
wish, and throth it's myself wishes the same.'
"'Och,' says I, 'that it may plaze you, sweet queen iv heaven, supposing
it was only a _dissolute_ island,' says I, 'inhabited wid Turks, sure
they wouldn't be such bad Christians as to refuse us a bit and a sup.'
"'Whisht, whisht, Paddy,' says the captain, 'don't be talking bad of any
one,' says he; 'you don't know how soon you may want a good word put in
for yourself, if you should be called to quarthers in th' other world
all of a suddint,' says he.
"'Thrue for you, Captain darlint,' says I--I called him darlint, and
made free with him, you see, bekase disthress makes us all
equal,--'thrue for you, Captain jewel,'--God betune uz and harm, I owe
no man any spite,--and throth that was only thruth. Well, the last
bishkit was sarved out, and by gor the _wather itself_ was all gone at
last, and we passed the night mighty cowld; well, at the brake o' day
the sun riz most beautifully out o' the waves, that was as bright as
silver and as clear as chrystal. But it was only the more cruel upon us,
for we wor beginnin' to feel _terrible_ hungry; when all at wanst I
thought I spied the land,--by gor, I thought I felt my heart up in my
throat in a minit, and 'Thunder an' turf, Captain,' says I, 'look to
leeward,' says I.
"'What for?' says he.
"'I think I see the land,' says I. So he ups with his bring-'em-near
(that's what the sailors call a spy-glass, sir), and looks out, and,
sure enough, it was.
"'Hurra!' says he, 'we're all right now; pull away, my boys,' says he.
"'Take care you're not mistaken,' says I; 'maybe it's only a fog-bank,
Captain darlint,' says I.
"'O no,' says he, 'it's the land in airnest.'
"'O, then, whereabouts in the wide world are we, Captain?' says I;
'maybe it id be in _Roosia_, or _Proosia_, or the Garmant Oceant,' says
I.
"'Tut, you fool,' says he, for he had that consaited way wid
him--thinkin' himself cleverer nor any one else--'tut, you fool,' says
he, 'that's _France_,' says he.
"'Tare an ouns,' says I, 'do you tell me so? and how do you know it's
France it is, Captain dear,' says I.
"'Bekase this is the Bay o' Bishky we're in now,' says he.
"'Throth, I was thinkin' so myself,' says I, 'by the rowl it has; for I
often heerd av it in regard of that same; and throth the likes av it I
never seen before nor since, and, with the help of God, never will.'
"Well, with that, my heart began to grow light; and when I seen my life
was safe, I began to grow twice hungrier nor ever--so, says I, 'Captain
jewel, I wish we had a gridiron.'
"'Why, then,' says he, 'thunder and turf,' says he, 'what puts a
gridiron into your head?'
"'Bekase I'm starvin' with the hunger,' says I.
"'And sure, bad luck to you,' says he, 'you couldn't eat a gridiron,'
says he, 'barrin' you were a _pelican o' the wildherness_,' says he.
"'Ate a gridiron,' says I, 'och, in throth, I'm not such a _gommoch_ all
out as that, anyhow. But sure, if we had a gridiron, we could dress a
beefstake,' says I.
"'Arrah! but where's the beefstake?' says he.
"'Sure, couldn't we cut a slice aff the pork,' says I.
"'Be gor, I never thought o' that,' says the captain. 'You're a clever
fellow, Paddy,' says he, laughin'.
"'O, there's many a thrue word said in joke,' says I.
"'Thrue for you, Paddy,' says he.
"'Well, then,' says I, 'if you put me ashore there beyant' (for we were
nearin' the land all the time), 'and sure I can ax them for to lind me
the loan of a gridiron,' says I.
"'O, by gor, the butther's comin' out o' the stirabout in airnest now,'
says he, 'you gommoch,' says he, 'sure I told you before that's
France,--and sure they're all furriners there,' says the captain.
"'Well,' says I, 'and how do you know but I'm as good a furriner myself
as any o' thim?'
"'What do you mane?' says he.
"'I mane,' says I, 'what I towld you, that I'm as good a furriner myself
as any o' thim.'
"'Make me sinsible,' says he.
"'By dad, maybe that's more nor me, or greater nor me, could do,' says
I,--and we all began to laugh at him, for I thought I would pay him off
for his bit o' consait about the Garmant Oceant.
"'Lave aff your humbuggin',' says he, 'I bid you, and tell me what it is
you mane, at all at all.'
"'_Parly voo frongsay_,' says I.
"'O, your humble sarvant,' says he; 'why, by gor, you're a scholar,
Paddy.'
"'Throth, you may say that,' says I.
"'Why, you're a clever fellow, Paddy,' says the captain, jeerin' like.
"'You're not the first that said that,' says I, 'whether you joke or
no.'
"'O, but I'm in airnest,' says the captain; 'and do you tell me, Paddy,'
says he, 'that you spake Frinch?'
"'_Parly voo frongsay_,' says I.
"'By gor, that bangs Banagher, and all the world knows Banagher bangs
the divil,--I never met the likes o' you, Paddy,' says he,--'pull away,
boys, and put Paddy ashore, and maybe we won't get a good bellyful
before long.'
"So, with that, it wos no sooner said nor done,--they pulled away, and
got close into shore in less than no time, and run the boat up in a
little creek, and a beautiful creek it was, with a lovely white
sthrand,--an illegant place for ladies to bathe in the summer; and out I
got,--and it's stiff enough in the limbs I was, afther bein' cramped up
in the boat, and perished with the cowld and hunger, but I conthrived to
scramble on, one way or t' other, tow'rds a little bit iv a wood that
was close to the shore, and the smoke curlin' out iv it, quite timptin'
like.
"'By the powdhers o' war, I'm all right,' says I, 'there's a house
there,'--and sure enough there was, and a parcel of men, women, and
childher, ating their dinner round a table, quite convanient. And so I
wint up to the door, and I thought I'd be very civil to them, as I heerd
the French was always mighty p'lite intirely,--and I thought I'd show
them I knew what good manners was.
"So I took aff my hat, and, making a low bow, says I, 'God save all
here,' says I.
"Well, to be sure, they all stapt eating at wanst, and began to stare at
me, and faith they almost looked me out of countenance,--and I thought
to myself, it was not good manners at all, more betoken from furriners
which they call so mighty p'lite; but I never minded that, in regard o'
wantin' the gridiron; and so says I, 'I beg your pardon,' says I, 'for
the liberty I take, but it's only bein' in disthress in regard of
eating,' says I, 'that I made bowld to throuble yez, and if you could
lind me the loan of a gridiron,' says I, 'I'd be entirely obleeged to
ye.'
"By gor, they all stared at me twice worse nor before,--and with that,
says I (knowing what was in their minds), 'Indeed it's thrue for you,'
says I, 'I'm tatthered to pieces, and God knows I look quare
enough,--but it's by raison of the storm,' says I, 'which dhruv us
ashore here below, and we're all starvin',' says I.
"So then they began to look at each other again; and myself, seeing at
once dirty thoughts was in their heads, and that they tuk me for a poor
beggar coming to crave charity,--with that, says I, 'O, not at all,'
says I, 'by no manes,--we have plenty of mate ourselves there below, and
we'll dhress it,' says I, 'if you would be plased to lind us the loan of
a gridiron,' says I, makin' a low bow.
"Well, sir, with that, throth, they stared at me twice worse nor ever,
and faith I began to think that maybe the captain was wrong, and that it
was not France at all at all; and so says I, 'I beg pardon, sir,' says
I, to a fine ould man, with a head of hair as white as silver,--'maybe
I'm under a mistake,' says I, 'but I thought I was in France, sir:
aren't you furriners?' says I,--'_Parly voo frongsay_?"
"'We, munseer,' says he.
"'Then would you lind me the loan of a gridiron,' says I, 'if you
plase?'
"O, it was thin that they stared at me as if I had seven heads; and,
faith, myself began to feel flushed like and onaisy,--and so, says I,
makin' a bow and scrape agin, 'I know it's a liberty I take, sir,' says
I, 'but it's only in the regard of bein' cast away; and if you plase,
sir,' says I, '_parly voo frongsay_?'
"'We, munseer,' says he, mighty sharp.
"'Then would you lind me the loan of a gridiron!' says I, 'and you'll
obleege me.'
"Well, sir, the ould chap began to munseer me; but the devil a bit of a
gridiron he'd gi' me; and so I began to think they wor all neygars, for
all their fine manners; and throth my blood begun to rise, and says I,
'By my sowl, if it was you was in distriss,' says I, 'and if it was to
ould Ireland you kem, it's not only the gridiron they'd give you, if you
axed it, but something to put an it, too, and the drop o' dhrink into
the bargain, and _cead mile failte_.'
"Well, the word _cead mile failte_ seemed to sthreck his heart, and the
ould chap cocked his ear, and so I thought I'd give him another offer,
and make him sensible at last: and so says I, wanst more, quite slow,
that he might understand,--'_Parly--voo--frongsay_, munseer.'
"'We, munseer,' says he.
"'Then lind me the loan of a gridiron,' says I, 'and bad scram to you.'
"Well, bad win to the bit of it he'd gi' me, and the ould chap begins
bowin' and scrapin', and said something or other about a long tongs.[D]
[D] Some mystification of Paddy's touching the French _n'entends_.
"'Phoo!--the divil swape yourself and your tongs,' says I, 'I don't want
a tongs at all at all; but can't you listen to raison,' says I,--'_Parly
voo frongsay_?'
"'We, munseer.'
"'Then lind me the loan of a gridiron,' says I, 'and howld your prate.'
"Well, what would you think, but he shook his old noddle as much as to
say he wouldn't; and so, says I, 'Bad cess to the likes o' that I ever
seen,--throth if you wor in my counthry it's not that away they'd use
you. The curse o' the crows an you, you owld sinner,' says I, 'the divil
a longer I'll darken your door.'
"So he seen I was vexed, and I thought, as I was turnin' away, I seen
him begin to relint, and that his conscience throubled him; and says I,
turnin' back, 'Well, I'll give one chance more,--you ould thief,--are
you a Chrishthan at all? are you a furriner!' says I, 'that all the
world calls so p'lite? Bad luck to you, do you understand your own
language?--_Parly voo frongsay_?' says I.
"'We, munseer,' says he.
"'Then, thunder an' turf,' says I, 'will you lind me the loan of a
gridiron?'
"Well, sir, the devil resave the bit of it he'd gi' me,--and so, with
that, the 'curse o' the hungry an you, you ould negarly villain,' says
I; 'the back o' my hand and the sowl o' my foot to you, that you may
want a gridiron yourself yit,' says I; and with that I left them there,
sir, and kem away,--and, in throth, it's often sense that I thought that
it was remarkable."
THE BOX TUNNEL.
BY CHARLES READE.
The 10.15 train glided from Paddington, May 7, 1847. In the left
compartment of a certain first-class carriage were four passengers; of
these, two were worth description. The lady had a smooth, white,
delicate brow, strongly marked eyebrows, long lashes, eyes that seemed
to change color, and a good-sized delicious mouth, with teeth as white
as milk. A man could not see her nose for her eyes and mouth; her own
sex could and would have told us some nonsense about it. She wore an
unpretending grayish dress buttoned to the throat with lozenge-shaped
buttons, and a Scottish shawl that agreeably evaded color. She was like
a duck, so tight her plain feathers fitted her, and there she sat,
smooth, snug, and delicious, with a book in her hand, and a _soupçon_ of
her wrist just visible as she held it. Her opposite neighbor was what I
call a good style of man,--the more to his credit, since he belonged to
a corporation that frequently turns out the worst imaginable style of
young men. He was a cavalry officer, aged twenty-five. He had a
mustache, but not a very repulsive one; not one of those subnasal
pigtails on which soup is suspended like dew on a shrub; it was short,
thick, and black as a coal. His teeth had not yet been turned by tobacco
smoke to the color of juice, his clothes did not stick to nor hang to
him; he had an engaging smile, and, what I liked the dog for, his
vanity, which was inordinate, was in its proper place, his heart, not in
his face, jostling mine and other people's who have none,--in a word, he
was what one oftener hears of than meets,--a young gentleman. He was
conversing in an animated whisper with a companion, a fellow-officer;
they were talking about what it is far better not to--women. Our friend
clearly did not wish to be overheard; for he cast ever and anon a
furtive glance at his fair _vis-à-vis_ and lowered his voice. She seemed
completely absorbed in her book, and that reassured him. At last the two
soldiers came down to a whisper (the truth must be told), the one who
got down at Slough, and was lost to posterity, bet ten pounds to three,
that he who was going down with us to Bath and immortality would not
kiss either of the ladies opposite upon the road. "Done, done!" Now I am
sorry a man I have hitherto praised should have lent himself, even in a
whisper, to such a speculation; "but nobody is wise at all hours," not
even when the clock is striking five and twenty; and you are to consider
his profession, his good looks, and the temptation--ten to three.
After Slough the party was reduced to three; at Twylford one lady
dropped her handkerchief; Captain Dolignan fell on it like a lamb; two
or three words were interchanged on this occasion. At Reading the
Marlborough of our tale made one of the safe investments of that day, he
bought a Times and Punch; the latter full of steel-pen thrusts and
woodcuts. Valor and beauty deigned to laugh at some inflamed humbug or
other punctured by Punch. Now laughing together thaws our human ice;
long before Swindon it was a talking match--at Swindon who so devoted as
Captain Dolignan?--he handed them out--he souped them--he
tough-chickened them--he brandied and cochinealed one, and he brandied
and burnt-sugared the other; on their return to the carriage, one lady
passed into the inner compartment to inspect a certain gentleman's seat
on that side of the line.
Reader, had it been you or I, the beauty would have been the deserter,
the average one would have stayed with us till all was blue, ourselves
included; not more surely does our slice of bread and butter, when it
escapes from our hand, revolve it ever so often, alight face downward on
the carpet. But this was a bit of a fop, Adonis, dragoon,--so Venus
remained in _tête-à-tête_ with him. You have seen a dog meet an unknown
female of his species; how handsome, how _empressé_, how expressive he
becomes; such was Dolignan after Swindon, and to do the dog justice, he
got handsome and handsomer; and you have seen a cat conscious of
approaching cream,--such was Miss Haythorn; she became demurer and
demurer; presently our captain looked out of the window and laughed;
this elicited an inquiring look from Miss Haythorn.
"We are only a mile from the Box Tunnel."
"Do you always laugh a mile from the Box Tunnel?" said the lady.
"Invariably."
"What for?"
"Why, hem! it is a gentleman's joke."
Captain Dolignan then recounted to Miss Haythorn the following:--
"A lady and her husband sat together going through the Box
Tunnel,--there was one gentleman opposite; it was pitch dark: after the
tunnel the lady said, 'George, how absurd of you to salute me going
through the tunnel.' 'I did no such thing.' 'You didn't?' 'No! why?'
'Because somehow I thought you did!'"
Here Captain Dolignan laughed and endeavored to lead his companion to
laugh, but it was not to be done. The train entered the tunnel.
_Miss Haythorn._ Ah!
_Dolignan._ What is the matter?
_Miss Haythorn._ I am frightened.
_Dolignan_ (moving to her side). Pray do not be alarmed; I am near you.
_Miss Haythorn._ You are near me,--very near me, indeed, Captain
Dolignan.
_Dolignan._ You know my name?
_Miss Haythorn._ I heard you mention it. I wish we were out of this dark
place.
_Dolignan._ I could be content to spend hours here, reassuring you, my
dear lady.
_Miss Haythorn._ Nonsense!
_Dolignan._ Pweep! (Grave reader, do not put your lips to the next
pretty creature you meet, or you will understand what this means.)
_Miss Haythorn._ Ee! Ee!
_Friend._ What is the matter?
_Miss Haythorn._ Open the door! Open the door!
There was a sound of hurried whispers, the door was shut and the blind
pulled down with hostile sharpness.
If any critic falls on me for putting inarticulate sounds in a dialogue
as above, I answer with all the insolence I can command at present. "Hit
boys as big as yourself"; bigger, perhaps, such as Sophocles, Euripides,
and Aristophanes; they began it, and I learned it of them, sore against
my will.
Miss Haythorn's scream lost most of its effect because the engine
whistled forty thousand murders at the same moment; and fictitious grief
makes itself heard when real cannot.
Between the tunnel and Bath our young friend had time to ask himself
whether his conduct had been marked by that delicate reserve which is
supposed to distinguish the perfect gentleman.
With a long face, real or feigned, he held open the door; his late
friends attempted to escape on the other side,--impossible! they must
pass him. She whom he had insulted (Latin for kissed) deposited
somewhere at his feet a look of gentle, blushing reproach; the other,
whom he had not insulted, darted red-hot daggers at him from her eyes;
and so they parted.
It was, perhaps, fortunate for Dolignan that he had the grace to be a
friend to Major Hoskyns of his regiment, a veteran laughed at by the
youngsters, for the Major was too apt to look coldly upon billiard-balls
and cigars; he had seen cannon-balls and linstocks. He had also, to tell
the truth, swallowed a good bit of the mess-room poker, which made it as
impossible for Major Hoskyns to descend to an ungentlemanlike word or
action as to brush his own trousers below the knee.
Captain Dolignan told this gentleman his story in gleeful accents; but
Major Hoskyns heard him coldly, and as coldly answered that he had known
a man to lose his life for the same thing.
"That is nothing," continued the Major, "but unfortunately he deserved
to lose it."
At this, blood mounted to the younger man's temples; and his senior
added, "I mean to say he was thirty-five; you, I presume, are
twenty-one!"
"Twenty-five."
"That is much the same thing; will you be advised by me?"
"If you will advise me."
"Speak to no one of this, and send White the £3, that he may think you
have lost the bet."
"That is hard, when I won it."
"Do it, for all that, sir."
Let the disbelievers in human perfectibility know that this dragoon
capable of a blush did this virtuous action, albeit with violent
reluctance; and this was his first damper. A week after these events he
was at a ball. He was in that state of factitious discontent which
belongs to us amiable English. He was looking in vain for a lady, equal
in personal attraction to the idea he had formed of George Dolignan as
a man, when suddenly there glided past him a most delightful vision! a
lady whose beauty and symmetry took him by the eyes,--another look: "It
can't be! Yes, it is!" Miss Haythorn! (not that he knew her name!) but
what an apotheosis!