certain that our pursuers are not far behind us. The idea of having the
cup of bliss dashed from my very lips,--of such beauty and affluence
being snatched from me, for want of a second pair of paltry posters,
drives me frantic!”
“A Gretna-Green affair, I presume, sir,” observed the inquisitive
landlord.
The gentleman made no scruple of admitting that he had run away with the
fair young creature who accompanied him, and that she was entitled to a
fortune of twenty thousand pounds:--“one half of which,” continued the
gentleman, “I would freely give,--if I had it,--to be, at this instant,
behind four horses, scampering away, due north, at full speed.”
“I can assure you, sir,” said the landlord, “that a fresh pair of such
animals as I offer you, will carry you over the ground as quick as if
you had ten dozen of the regular road-hacks. No man keeps better cattle
than I do, and this pair beats all the others in my stables by two
miles an hour. But in ten minutes, perhaps, and certainly within half an
hour--”
“Half an hour! half a minute's delay might ruin me,” replied the
gentleman; “I hope I shall find the character you have given your cattle
a correct one;--dash on, postilion.”
Before this short conversation between the gentleman and the innkeeper
was concluded, Joey Duddle had put-to his horses,--which were, of
course, kept harnessed,--and taken his seat, prepared to start at a
moment's notice. He kept his eye upon the innkeeper, who gave the usual
signal of a rapid wave of the hand, as soon as the gentleman ceased
speaking; and Joey Duddle's cattle, in obedience to the whip and spur,
hobbled off at that awkward and evidently painful pace, which is,
perforce, adopted by the most praiseworthy post-horses for the first ten
minutes or so of their journey. But the pair, over which Joey presided,
were, as the innkeeper had asserted, very speedy; and the gentleman soon
felt satisfied, that it would take an extraordinary quadruple team
to overtake them. His hopes rose at the sight of each succeeding
mile-stone; he ceased to put his head out of the window every five
minutes, and gaze anxiously up the road; he already anticipated a
triumph,--when a crack, a crush, a shriek from the lady, a jolt, an
instant change of position, and a positive pause occurred, in the order
in which they are stated, with such suddenness and relative rapidity,
that the gentleman was, for a moment or two, utterly deprived of his
presence of mind by alarm and astonishment. The bolt which connects the
fore-wheels, splinter-bar, springs, fore-bed, axle-tree, et cetera,
with the perch, that passes under the body of the chaise, to the hind
wheel-springs and carriage, had snapped asunder: the whole of the fore
parts were instantly dragged onward by the horses; the braces by which
the body was attached to the fore-springs, gave way; the chaise fell
forward, and, of course, remained stationary with its contents, in the
middle of the road; while the Deaf Postilion rode on, with his eyes
intently fixed on vacuity before him, as though nothing whatever had
happened.
Alarmed, and indignant in the highest degree, at the postilion's
conduct, the gentleman shouted with all his might such exclamations
as any man would naturally use on such an occasion; but Joey, although
still but at a little distance, took no notice of what had occurred
behind his back, and very complacently trotted his horses on at the rate
of eleven or twelve miles an hour. He thought the cattle went better
than ever; his mind was occupied with the prospect of a speedy
termination to his journey; he felt elated at the idea of outstripping
the pursuers,--for Joey had discrimination enough to perceive, at a
glance, that his passengers were runaway lovers,--and he went on very
much to his own satisfaction. As he approached the inn, which terminated
“the long down,” Joey, as usual, put his horses upon their mettle, and
they, having nothing but a fore-carriage and a young lady's trunk behind
them, rattled up to the door at a rate unexampled in the annals of
posting, with all the little boys and girls of the neighbourhood
hallooing in their rear.
It was not until he drew up to the inn-door, and alighted from his
saddle, that Joey discovered his disaster; and nothing could equal the
utter astonishment which his features then displayed. He gazed at the
place where the body of his chaise, his passengers, and hind-wheels
ought to have been, for above a minute: and then suddenly started down
the road on foot, under an idea that he must very recently have dropped
them. On reaching a little elevation, which commanded above two miles of
the ground over which he had come, he found, to his utter dismay, that
no traces of the main body of his chaise were perceptible; nor could
he discover his passengers, who had, as it appeared in the sequel, been
overtaken by the young lady's friends. Poor Joey immediately ran into a
neighbouring hay-loft, where he hid himself, in despair, for three days;
and when discovered, he was, with great difficulty, persuaded by his
master, who highly esteemed him, to resume his whip and return to his
saddle.
[Illustration: 407]
CONJUGATING A VERB.
Dick Orrod and his brother Giles were fine specimens of the bumpkin boys
of the West of England: their father, who was a flourishing farmer, sent
them to pick up a little learning at an expensive academy, in a large
town about twenty miles from the village where he lived. The master had
but recently purchased the school from his predecessor; and, stranger
as he was to the dialect of that part of the country, he could scarcely
understand above one half of what Dick and Giles Orrod and a few more
of his pupils meant when they spoke. “I _knowed_, I _rinned_, and I
_hut”._ were barbarisms, to which his ear had never been accustomed; and
it was only by degrees he discovered that they were translations, into
the rural tongue, of “I knew, I ran, and I hit.” But there were few so
rude of speech as Dick and Giles Orrod.
Fraternal affection was a virtue that did not flourish in the bosoms
of either of these young gentlemen. Dick's greatest enemy on earth was
Giles; and if honest Giles hated any human being except the master, it
was Dick. They were excellent spies on each other's conduct; Giles never
missed an opportunity of procuring Dick a castigation; and Dick was
equally active in making the master acquainted with every punishable
peccadillo that his brother committed.
One day an accusation was preferred against Master Richard, by one of
the monitors, of having cut down a small tree in the shrubbery; but
there was not sufficient evidence to bring the offence home to the
supposed culprit.
“Does no young gentleman happen to know any thing more of this matter?”
inquired the master.
Giles immediately walked from his seat, and, taking a place by the
side of his brother, looked as though he had something relevant to
communicate.
“Well, sir;” said the master, “what do you know about the tree?”
“If you plaze, sir,” growled Giles, “if you plaze, sir, I sawed un.”
“Oh! you 'sawed un,' did you?”
“Iss, I did:--Dick seed I saw un.”
“Is this true, master Richard?”
“Iss,” said Dick; and Giles, much to his astonishment, was immediately
flogged.
At the termination of the ceremony, it occurred to the master to ask
Giles, how he had obtained the saw. “About your saw, young gentleman;”
said he, “where do you get a saw when you want one?”
Giles had some faint notions of grammar floating in his brain, and
thinking that the master meant the verb, and not the substantive,
blubbered out--“From _see_.”
“_Sea!_--so you go on board the vessels in the dock, do you, out of
school hours, and expend your pocket money, in purchasing implements to
cut down my shrubbery?”
“Noa, sir,” said Giles; “I doant goa aboard no ships, nor cut down noa
shrubberies.”
“What, sirrah! did you not confess it?”
“Noa, sir; I said I sawed brother Dick cut down the tree, and he seed I
sawed un, and a couldn't deny it.”
“I didn't deny it,” said Dick.
“Then possibly you are the real delinquent, after all, Master Richard,”
exclaimed the master.
Dick confessed that he was, but he hoped the master would not beat him,
after having flogged his brother for the same offence: in his way, he
humbly submitted that one punishment, no matter who received it,--but
especially as it had been bestowed on one of the same family as the
delinquent,--was, to all intents and purposes, enough for one crime.
The master, however, did not coincide with Dick on this grave point, and
the young gentleman was duly horsed.
“As for Master Giles,” said the master, as he laid down the birch, “he
well merited a flogging for his astonishing--his wilful stupidity. If
boys positively will not profit by my instructions, I am bound, in duty
to their parents, to try the effect of castigation. No man grieves more
sincerely than I do, at the necessity which exists for using the birch
and cane as instruments of liberal education; and yet, unfortunately,
no man, I verily believe, is compelled to use them more frequently than
myself. I was occupied for full half an hour, in drumming this identical
verb into Giles Orrod, only yesterday morning: and you, sir,” added he,
turning to Dick, “you, I suppose, are quite as great a blockhead as your
brother. Now attend to me, both of you:--what's the past of _see?_”
Neither of the young gentlemen replied.
“I thought as much!” quoth the master. “The perfect of _see_ is the
present of _saw_,--See, Saw.”
“See, Saw,” shouted the boys; but that unfortunate verb was the
stumbling-block to their advancement. They never could comprehend how
the perfect of _see_ could be the present of _saw_; and days, weeks,
months,--nay, years after,--they were still at their endless, and, to
them, incomprehensible game of _see-saw_.
[Illustration: 410]
POSTHUMOUS PRAISE.
If posterity were to judge of us on the evidence of our gravestones, it
would certainly pronounce this to be an age of affectionate husbands,
tender wives, dutiful children, loving parents, and most sincere and
disinterested friends: it would conclude, from the testimony of
our epitaphs, that we were all either deeply lamented, universally
respected, or the most benevolent and amiable of men. We should have the
credit of possessing every talent that can adorn humanity, except that
of writing good English;--of being excellent painters, architects,
statesmen, and philosophers; but, strange to say, most pitiful
poetasters. _De mortuis nil nisi bonum_, is a maxim which no man
ventures to offend, either in prose or verse, when composing an epitaph.
Many persons who never could obtain a syllable of praise while alive,
get very good characters given them after their decease. I always
entertained an opinion that Hinks, the attorney, was a low, pettifogging
scoundrel, and frequently beat his wife; until one day I discovered,
in the course of a stroll round the church-yard, where his remains
were deposited, that he was a “tender husband” and “an ornament to his
profession.” The most impatient patient whose pulse was ever felt by a
physician, is described on his tomb-stone as one “who bore afflictions
sore,” with laudable resignation. The monument-makers, it appears, have
always a stock of lettered slabs in their ware-rooms, which, like the
skeleton promissory notes sold at the stationers', may be completed
at the shortest notice, by filling up the blanks with names and dates.
Death's heads have lately been at a discount; but poetical praise on
marble is still rather above par; and lines that have been used on
more than five hundred occasions, are considered “better than new,”
on account of their popularity. Hexameters fetch high prices, but
Alexandrines are enormous. Those who are desirous of being at once
laudatory and economical, are compelled to put the defunct on short
commons: in these cases, an hour or so may be advantageously employed
in searching for synonyms, and culling the shortest epithets that can be
found words of above two syllables being generally at a premium. This is
the case, also, it seems, in the newspaper obituaries. Some short time
ago, a gentleman called at the office of a popular morning paper, with
an advertisement, announcing the death of an old lady, for insertion on
the following day. He found the person to whom it was necessary to apply
on this occasion, rather more gruff, short, snappish, and disagreeable,
if possible, than usual. This “brief-spoken and surly-burly” personage,
after glancing for a moment at the slip of paper on which the
announcement was written, growled “Seven and sixpence.”
“Seven and sixpence!” exclaimed the gentleman:--“how is that? On the
last occasion, when I had the melancholy duty to perform of announcing
the death of a person in your paper, I paid only seven shillings.”
“Seven and sixpence:--if you don't like it, don't leave it,” said old
Surly-burly. “Well, but allow me to ask, what is the occasion of the
difference of price?”
“Why,” said Surly-burly, frowning severely, “if I _must_ gratify your
curiosity, you've put in 'universally lamented;' and we always charge
sixpence extra for 'universally lamented.'”
“Very well,” said the gentleman, “there's the money; and allow me to
say, that I am quite certain no one will ever go to the additional
expense for you.”
[Illustration: 412]
THE DOS-A-DOS TETE-A-TETE.
My wife loathes pickled pork, and I hate ham;
I doat on pancakes--she likes fritters:
And thus, alas! just like my morning dram,
The evening of my life is _dash'd with bitters!_
Old as we are, the ninnyhammer wants
To teach me French,--and I won't learn it:
My nightly path, where e'er I roam, she haunts,
And grudges me my glass, though well I earn it.
The other day, while sitting back to back,
She roused me from my short, sweet slumbers,
By taxing me at such a rate, good lack!
And summing up her griefs in these sad numbers:--
“Though you lay your head thus against mine,
You hate me, you brute, and you know it
But why not in secret repine,
Instead of delighting to shew it?--
You question my knowledge of French,
And won't believe '_rummage_' is cheese;--
Why can't you look cool on 'the wench?'
To me you're all _shiver-de-freeze!_
“When around you quite fondly I've clung,
You have oftentimes said in a rage,--
'Such folly may do for the young,
But I take it to be _bad-in-age!_'
A reticule-bag if I buy,
(A trifle becoming each belle,)
'At Jericho, madam,' you cry,--
'I wish you and your _bag-at-elle!_
“When I had in some cordials, so rich!--
With letters all labell'd quite handy;
Says you, 'I'll inquire, you old witch,
If O D V doesn't mean brandy!'
Whenever I sink to repose,
You rouse me, you wretch! with a sneeze;
And, lastly, if I _doze-a-doee_,
To _w_ex me, you just _wheeze-a-wheeze?_
[Illustration: 414]
A TOAD IN A HOLE.
The Friars of Fairoak were assembled in a chamber adjoining the great
hall of their house: the Abbot was seated in his chair of eminence, and
all eyes were turned on Father Nicodemus.
Not a word was uttered, until he who seemed to be the object of so
much interest, at length ventured to speak. “It be-hoveth not one of
my years, perchance,” said he, “to disturb the silence of my elders and
superiors; but, truly, I know not what meaneth this meeting; and surely
my desire to be edified is lawful. Hath it been decided that we should
follow the example of our next-door neighbours, the Arroasian Friars,
and, henceforth, be tongue-tied? If not, do we come here to eat, or
pray, or hold council?--Ye seem somewhat too grave for those bidden to a
feast, and there lurk too many smiles about the faces of many of ye,
for this your silence to be a prelude to prayers. I cannot think, we are
about to consult on aught; because, with reverence be it spoken, those
who pass for the wisest among us, look more silly than is their wont.
But if we be here to eat--let us eat; if to pray, let us pray; and if to
hold council, what is to be the knotty subject of our debate?”
“Thyself,” replied the Abbot.
“On what score?” inquired Nicodemus.
“On divers scores,” quoth the Abbot; “thy misdeeds have grown rank: we
must even root them out of thee, or root thee out of our fraternity, on
which thou art bringing contumely. I tell thee, Brother Nicodemus, thy
offences are numberless as the weeds which grow by the way-side. Here be
many who have much to say of thee:--speak, Brother Ulick!”
“Brother Nicodemus,” said Father Ulick, “hath, truly, ever been a gross
feeder.”
“And a lover of deep and most frequent potations,” quoth Father Edmund.
“And a roamer beyond due bounds,” added Father Hugo.
“Yea, and given to the utterance of many fictions,” muttered his
brother.
“Very voluble also, and not altogether of so staid aspect, as becometh
one of his order and mellow years,” drawled Father James.
“To speak plainly--a glutton,” said the first speaker.
“Ay, and a drunkard,” said the second.
“Moreover, a night-walker,” said the third.
“Also a liar,” said the fourth.
“Finally, a babbler and a buffoon,” said the fifth.
“Ye rate me roundly, brethren,” cried Nicodemus; “and, truly, were ye
my judges, I should speedily be convicted of these offences whereof I
am accused: but not a man among you is fitted to sit in judgment on the
special misfeasance with which he chargeth me. And I will reason with
you, and tell you why. Now, first, to deal with Brother Ulick--who
upbraideth me with gross feeding:--until he can prove that his stomach
and mine are of the same quality, clamour, and power digestive, I will
not, without protest, permit him to accuse me of devouring swinishly.
He is of so poor and weak a frame, that he cannot eat aught but soppets,
without suffering the pangs of indigestion, and the nocturnal visits of
incubi, and more sprites than tempted Saint Anthony. It is no virtue in
him to be abstemious; he is enforced to avoid eating the tithe of what
would be needful to a man of moderate stomach; and behold, how lean
he looks! Next, Brother Edmund hath twitted me with being a deep
drinker:--now, it is well known, that Brother Edmund must not take a
second cup after his repast; being so puny of brain, that if he do, his
head is racked with myriads of pains and aches on the morrow, and it
lieth like a log on his shoulder,--if perchance he be enabled to rise
from his pallet. Shall he, then, pronounce dogmatically on the quantity
of potation lawful to a man in good health? I say, nay. Brother Hugo,
who chargeth me with roaming, is lame; and his brother, who saith that
I am an utterer of fictions, hath a brain which is truly incompetent to
conceive an idea, or to comprehend a fact. Brother James, who arraigneth
me of volubility, passeth for a sage pillar of the church; because,
having nought to say, he looks grave and holds his peace. I will be
tried, if you will, by Brother James, for gross feeding; he having a
good digestion and an appetite equal to mine own:--or by Brother Hugo,
for drinking abundantly; inasmuch as he is wont to solace himself
under his infirmity, with a full flask:--or by Brother Ulick, for the
utterance of fictions; because he hath written a history of some of The
Fathers, and admireth the blossoms of the brain:--or by Brother Edmund,
for not being sufficiently sedate; as he is, truly, a comfortable
talker himself and although forced to eschew wine, of a most cheerful
countenance. By Hugo's brother I will be tried on no charge;--seeing
that he is, was, and ever will be--in charity I speak it--an egregious
fool. Have ye aught else to set up against me, brethren?”
“Much more, Brother Nicodemus,” said the Abbot, “much more, to our
sorrow. The cry of our vassals hath come up against thee; and it is now
grown so loud and frequent, that we are unwillingly enforced to
assume our authority, as their lord and thy Superior, to redress their
grievances and correct thy errors.”
“Correct _me!_” exclaimed Father Nicodemus; “Why, what say the rogues?
Dare they throw blur, blain, or blemish on my good name? Would that I
might hear one of them!”
“Thou shalt be gratified:--call in John of the Hough.”
In a few moments John of the Hough appeared, with his head bound up, and
looking alarmed as a recently-punished hound when brought again into the
presence of him by whom he has been chastised.
“Fear not,” said the Abbot; “fear not, John o' the Hough, but speak
boldly; and our benison or malison be on thee, as thou speakest true or
false.”
“Father Nicodemus,” said John o' the Hough, in a voice rendered almost
inaudible by fear, “broke my head with a cudgel he weareth under his
cloak.”
“When did he do this?” inquired the Abbot.
“On the feast of St. James and Jude; oft before, and since, too, without
provocation; and, lastly, on Monday se'nnight.”
“Why, thou strangely perverse varlet, dost thou say it was I who beat
thee?” demanded the accused friar.
“Ay, truly, most respected Father Nicodemus.”
“Dost thou dare to repeat it? I am amazed at thy boldness;--or, rather,
thy stupidity; or, perhaps, at thy loss of memory. Know, thou naughty
hind, it was thyself who cudgelled thee! Didst thou not know that if
thou wert to vex a dog he would snap at thee?--or hew and hack a tree,
and not fly, it would fall on thee?--or grieve and wound the feelings of
thy ghostly friend Father Nicodemus, he would cudgel thee?--Did I rouse
myself into a rage? Did I call myself a thief?--Answer me, my son; did?”
“No, truly, Father Nicodemus.”
“Did I threaten, if I were not a son of Holy Mother Church, to kick
myself out of thy house? Answer me, my son; did I?”
“No, truly, Father Nicodemus.”
“Am I less than a dog, or a tree? Answer me, my son; am I?”
“No, truly, Father Nicodemus; but, truly, also--”
“None of thy buts, my son; respond to me with plain ay or no. Didst thou
not do all these things antecedent to my breaking thy sconce?”
“Ay, truly, Father Nicodemus.”
“Then how canst thou say _I_ beat thee? Should I have carried my staff
to thy house, did I not know thee to be a churl, and an enemy to the
good brotherhood of this house? Was I to go into the lion's den without
my defence? Should I have demeaned myself to phlebotomize thee with my
cudgel, (and doubtless the operation was salubrious,) hadst thou not
aspersed me? Was it for me to stand by, tamely, with three feet of
blackthorn at my belt, and hear a brother of this religious order
betwitted, as I was by thee, with petty larceny? Was it not thine own
breath, then, that brought the cudgel upon thy caput? Answer me, my
son.”
“Lead forth John of the Hough, and call in the miller of Homford,”
said the Abbot, before John of the Hough could reply. “Now, miller,”
continued he, as soon as the miller entered, “what hast thou to allege
against this our good brother, Nicodemus?”
“I allege,” replied the miller, “that he is naught.”
“Oh! thou especial rogue!” exclaimed Father Nicodemus; “dost _thou_ come
here to bear witness against me? I will impeach thy testimony by one
assertion, which thou canst not gainsay; for the evidence of it is
written on thy brow, thou brawny villain! Thou bearest malice against
me, because I, some six years ago, inflicted a cracked crown on thee,
for robbing this holy house of its lawful meal. I deemed the punishment
adequate to the offence, and spoke not of it to the Abbot, in
consideration of thy promising to mend thy ways. Hadst thou not well
merited that mark of my attention to the interests of my brethren, the
whole lordship would have heard of it. And didst thou ever say I made
the wound? Never:--thy tale was that some of thy mill-gear had done it.
But I will be judged by any here, if the scar be not of my blackthorn's
making. I will summon three score, at least, who shall prove it to be my
mark. Let it be viewed with that on the head of thy foster-brother, John
of the Hongh:--I will abide by the comparison. Thou hast hoarded malice
in thy heart from that day; and now thou comest here to vomit it forth,
as thou deemest, to my undoing. But, be sure, caitiff, that I shall
testify upon thy sconce hereafter: for I know thou art rogue enough to
rob if thou canst, and fool enough to rob with so little discretion as
to be easily detected; and even if my present staff be worn out, there
be others in the woods:--ergo--”