PART THREE, CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

POOR COPHAGUS FINDS AN END TO HIS ADVENTURES BY THE MEANS OF A MAD BULL;

I, OF MINE, BY MATRIMONY--FATHER IS PRETTILY BEHAVED, AND MY QUAKER WIFE

THE MOST FASHIONABLY DRESSED LADY IN TOWN--VERILY! HUM!

Alas! little did Mr Cophagus know how fatal to him would be the light

cotton nets when he put them on that day. He had proceeded, as it

appears, about two thirds of his way home (he lived in Welbeck Street),

when he perceived a rush from up a street leading into Oxford-Street.

He looked to ascertain the cause, when to his horror he perceived--what

to him was the greatest of all horrors--a mad bull. If anything could

make Mr Cophagus run, it was a sight like that, and he did run; but he

could not run fast in his cotton nets and tight Hessians, which crippled

him altogether. As if out of pure spite, the bull singled him out from

at least one hundred, who exerted their agility, and again was poor Mr

Cophagus tossed far behind the animal, fortunately breaking his fall by

tumbling on a large dog who was in full chase. The dog, who was unable

to crawl from beneath the unfortunate Cophagus, was still in a condition

to bite, which he did most furiously; and the butcher, who had an

affection for his dog, when he perceived its condition, also vented his

fury upon poor Cophagus, by saluting him with several blows on his head

with his cudgel. What between the bull, the dog, and the butcher, poor

Mr Cophagus was taken into a shop in a very deplorable condition.

After some time he recovered and was able to name his residence, when he

was taken home.

It was late in the evening when I received a note from Susannah,

informing me of that unfortunate accident. My father had just finished

a long story about filial duty, country girls, good wives, etcetera, and

had wound up by saying, that he and Mr Masterton both considered that

Miss Temple would be a very eligible match, and that, as I had requested

him to select, he had selected her accordingly. I had just proved how

truly dutiful I was, by promising to do all I could to love her, and to

fulfil his wishes, when the note was put in my hands. I read it, stated

its contents to my father, and, with his permission, immediately jumped

into a hackney-coach, and drove to Welbeck Street.

On my arrival I found poor Mrs Cophagus in a state of syncope, and

Susannah attending her. I sent for the surgeon who had been called in,

and then went up to Mr Cophagus. He was much better than I expected--

calm, and quite sensible. His wounds had been dressed by the surgeon,

but he did not appear to be aware of the extent of the injury he had

received. When the surgeon came I questioned him. He informed me that

although much hurt, he did not consider that there was any danger to be

apprehended; there were no bones broken; the only fear that he had was,

that there might be some internal injury; but at present that could not

be ascertained. I thanked him, and consoled Mrs Cophagus with this

information. I then returned to her husband, who shook his head, and

muttered, as I put my ear down to hear him. "Thought so--come to

London--full of mad bulls--tossed--die--and so on."

"O no!" replied I, "the surgeon says that there is no danger. You will

be up in a week--but now you must keep very quiet. I will send Mrs

Cophagus to you."

I went out; and finding her composed, I desired her to go to her

husband, who wished to see her, and I was left alone with Susannah. I

told her all that had passed, and after two delightful hours had

escaped, I returned home to the hotel. My father had waited up for some

time, and finding that I did not return, had retired. When I met him

the next morning, I mentioned what the surgeon had said; but stated

that, in my opinion, there was great cause for alarm in a man of Mr

Cophagus's advanced age. My father agreed with me; but could not help

pointing out what a good opportunity this would afford for my paying my

attentions to Miss Temple, as it was natural that I should be interested

about so old a friend as Mr Cophagus. My filial duty inclined me to

reply, that I should certainly avail myself of such a favourable

opportunity.

My adventures are now drawing to a close. I must pass over three

months, during which my father had taken and furnished a house in

Grosvenor Square; and I, whenever I could spare time, had, under the

auspices of Lord Windermear, again been introduced into the world as Mr

De Benyon. I found that the new name was considered highly respectable;

my father's hall tables were loaded with cards; and I even received two

dinner invitations from Lady Maelstrom, who told me how her dear nieces

had wondered what had become of me, and that they were afraid that

Louisa would have fallen into a decline. And during these three months

Cecilia and Susannah had been introduced, and had become as inseparable

as most young ladies are, who have a lover apiece, and no cause for

jealousy. Mr Cophagus had so far recovered as to be able to go down

into the country, vowing, much to the chagrin of his wife, that he never

would put his foot in London again. He asked me whether I knew any

place where there were _no mad bulls_, and I took some trouble to find

out, but I could not; for even if he went to the North Pole, although

there were no bulls, yet there were bull bisons and musk bulls, which

were even more savage. Upon which he declared that this was not a world

to live in; and to prove that he was sincere in his opinion, poor

fellow, about three months after his retirement into the country, he

died from a general decay, arising from the shock produced on his

system. But before these three months had passed, it had been finally

arranged that Harcourt and I were to be united on the same day; and

having renewed my acquaintance with the good bishop, whom I had taxed

with being my father, he united us both to our respective partners. My

father made over to me the sum which he had mentioned. Mr Masterton

gave Susannah ten thousand pounds, and her own fortune amounted to as

much more, with the reversion of Mr Cophagus's property at the decease

of his widow. Timothy came up to the wedding, and I formally put him in

the possession of my shop and stock in trade, and he has now a

flourishing business. Although he has not yet found his mother, he has

found a very pretty wife, which he says does quite as well, if not

better.

Let it not be supposed that I forgot the good services of Kathleen--who

was soon after married to Corny. A small farm on Fleta's estate was

appropriated to them, at so low a rent, that in a few years they were

able to purchase the property; and Corny, from a leveller, as soon as he

was comfortable, became one of the government's firmest supporters.

I am now living in the same house with my father, who is very happy, and

behaves pretty well. He is seldom in a passion more than twice a week,

which we consider as miraculous. Now that I am writing this, he has his

two grandchildren on his knees. Mrs Cophagus has married a captain in

the Life Guards, and as far as fashion and dress are concerned, may be

said to be "going the whole hog." And now, as I have no doubt that my

readers will be curious to know whether my lovely wife adheres to her

primitive style of dress, I shall only repeat a conversation of

yesterday night, as she came down arrayed for a splendid ball given by

Mrs Harcourt de Clare.

"Tell me now, De Benyon," said she, "is not this a pretty dress?"

"Yes, my dear," replied I, looking at her charming face and figure with

all the admiration usual in the honeymoon, "it is indeed; but do you not

think, my dear Susan," said I, putting the tip of my white glove upon

her snowy shoulder, "that it is cut down a _little_ too low?"

"Too low, De Benyon! why it's not half so low as Mrs Harcourt de Clare

or Lady C-- wear their dresses."

"Well, my dear, I did not assert that it was. I only asked."

"Well, then, if you only asked for information, De Benyon, I will tell

you that it is not too low, and I think you will acknowledge that on

this point my opinion ought to be decisive; for, if I have no other

merit, I have at least the merit of being the best-dressed woman in

London."

"Verily thou persuadest me, Susannah," replied I.

"Now, De Benyon, hold your tongue."

Like a well-disciplined husband, I bowed, and said no more. And now,

having no more to say, I shall also make my bow to my readers, and bid

them farewell.

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