At the foot of the long range of the Mendip hills, standeth a village,
which, for obvious reasons, we shall conceal the precise locality of, by
bestowing thereon, the appellation of Stockwell. The principal trade
of the Stockwellites is in coals, which certain of the industrious
operative natives sedulously employ themselves in extracting from
our mother earth, while others are engaged in conveying the “black
diamonds,” to various adjacent towns, in carts of sundry shapes and
dimensions. The horses engaged in this traffic are of the Rosinante
species, and, too often, literally raw-boned.
Stockwell, moreover, hath its inn, or public house, a place of no small
importance, having for its sign a swinging creaking board whereon
is emblazoned the effigy of a roaring, red, and rampant lion.--High
towering above the said lion are the branches of a solitary elm, the
foot of which is encircled by a seat, especially convenient for those
guests whose taste it is to “blow a cloud” in the open air; and it is of
two individuals, who were much given thereon to enjoy their “_otium cum
dignitate_,” that we are about to speak.
George Syms had long enjoyed a monopoly in the shoemaking and cobbling
line (though latterly two oppositionists had started against him), and
Peter Brown was a man well to do in the world, being “the man wot”
shod the raw-boned horses before-mentioned, “him and his father, and
grandfather,” as the parish-clerk said, “for time immemorial.” These two
worthies were regaling themselves, as was their wonted custom, each with
his pint, upon a small table, which was placed for their accommodation,
when an elderly stranger, of a shabby genteel appearance, approached
the Lion, and inquired the road to an adjoining village.--“You are late,
Sir,” said George Syms. “Yes,” replied the stranger, “I am;” and he
threw himself on the bench, and took off his hat, and began to call
about him, notwithstanding his shabby appearance, with the air of one
who has money in his pocket to pay his way. “Three make good company,”
observed Peter Brown. “Ay, ay,” said the stranger. “Holloa, there! bring
me another pint! This walk has made me confoundedly thirsty. You may as
well make it a pot--and be quick!”
Messrs. Brown and Syms were greatly pleased with this additional guest
at their symposium; and the trio sat and talked of the wind, and the
weather, and the roads, and the coal trade, and drank and smoked to
their hearts’ content, till time began to hang heavy, and then the
stranger asked the two friends, if ever they played at tee-to-tum. “Play
at what?” asked Peter Brown. “Play at what?” inquired George Syms. “At
tee-to-tum,” replied the stranger, gravely taking a pair of spectacles
from one pocket of his waistcoat, and the machine in question from the
other. “It is an excellent game, I assure you. Rare sport, my masters!”
and he forthwith began to spin his teetotum upon the table, to the no
small diversion of George Syms and Peter Brown, who opined that the
potent ale of the ramping Red Lion had done its office.--“Only see how
the little fellow runs about!” cried the stranger, in apparent ecstacy.
“Holloa, there! Bring a lantern! There he goes, round and round--and now
he’s asleep--and now he begins to reel--wiggle-waggle---down he tumbles!
What colour, for a shilling?”--“I don’t understand the game,” said Peter
Brown. “Nor I, neither,” quoth George Syms: “but it seems easy enough to
learn”--“Oh, ho!” said the stranger; “you think so, do you? But, let me
tell you that there’s a great deal more in it than you imagine. There
he is, you see, with as many sides as a modern politician, and as many
colours as an Algerine.--Come, let us have a game! This is the way!”
and he again sat the teetotum in motion, and capered about in exceeding
glee. “He, he, he!” uttered George Syms; and “Ha, ha, ha!” exclaimed
Peter Brown; and, being wonderfully tickled with the oddity of the
thing, they were easily persuaded by the stranger just to take a game
together for five minutes, while he stood by as umpire, with a stopwatch
in his hand.
When precisely five minutes had elapsed, although it was Peter Brown’s
spin, and the teetotum was yet going its rounds, and George Syms had
called out yellow, he demurely took it from the table and put it in his
pocket, and then, returning his watch to his fob, walked away into the
Red Lion, without as much as saying good-night. The two friends looked
at each other in surprise, and then indulged in a very loud and
hearty fit of laughter; and then paid their reckoning, and went away
exceedingly merry, which they would not have been, had they understood
properly what they had been doing.
In the meanwhile, the stranger had entered the house; and he found it
not very difficult to persuade them likewise to take a game at teetotum
for five minutes, which he terminated in the same unceremonious way as
that under the tree, and then desired to be shown the room wherein he
was to sleep. Mrs. Philpot immediately, contrary to her usual custom,
jumped up with great alacrity, lighted a candle, and conducted her guest
to his apartment; while Sally, contrary to _her_ usual custom, reclined
herself in her mistress’s great arm-chair, yawned three or four times,
and then exclaimed, “Heigho! it’s getting very late! I wish my husband
would come home!” Now as we are not fond of useless mysteries, we
think proper to tell the reader, that the teetotum in question had the
peculiar property of causing those who played therewith to lose all
remembrance of their former character, and to adopt that of their
antagonists in the game. During the process of spinning, the personal
identity of the two players was completely changed. Now, on the evening
of this memorable day, Jacob Philpot, the landlord of the rampant Red
Lion, had spent a few convivial hours with mine host of the Blue Boar,
a house on the road-side, about two miles from Stockwell; and the
two publicans had discussed the ale, grog, and tobacco, in the manner
customary with Britons, whose insignia are roaring, rampant red lions,
green dragons, blue boars, &c. Therefore, when Jacob came home, he began
to call about him, with the air of one who purposeth that his arrival
shall be no secret; and very agreeably surprised was he when Mrs.
Philpot ran out from the house, and assisted him to dismount, for
Jacob was somewhat rotund; and yet more did he marvel, when, instead
of haranguing him in a loud voice (as she had whilom done on similar
occasions, greatly to his discomfiture), she good-humouredly said that
she would lead his nag to the stable, and then go and call Philip
the ostler. “Humph!” said the host of the Lion, leaning with his back
against the door-post, “after a calm comes a storm. She’ll make up for
this presently, I’ll warrant.” But Mrs. Philpot put up the horse, and
called Philip, and then returned in peace and quietness, and attempted
to pass into the house, without uttering a word to her lord and master.
“What’s the matter with you, my dear?” asked Jacob Philpot; “a’nt you
well?”--“Yes, Sir,” replied Mrs. Philpot, “very well, I thank you.--But
pray take away your leg, and let me go into the house.”--“But didn’t you
think I was very late?” asked Jacob. “Oh! I don’t know,” replied Mrs.
Philpot; “when gentlemen get together, they don’t think how time goes.”
Poor Jacob was quite delighted, and, as it was dusk, and by no means,
as he conceived, a scandalous proceeding, he forthwith put one arm round
Mrs. Philpot’s neck, and stole a kiss, whereat she said, “Oh dear me!
how could you think of doing such a thing?” and immediately squeezed
herself past him, and ran into the house, where Sally sat, in the
armchair before mentioned, with a handkerchief over her head, pretending
to be asleep.
“Come, my dear,” said Jacob to his wife, “I’m glad to see you in such
good humour. You shall make me a glass of rum and water, and take some
of it yourself.” He then good-humouredly told her to go to bed, and he
would follow her presently, as soon as he had looked after his horse,
and pulled off his boots. This proposition was no sooner made, than
the good man’s ears were suddenly grasped from behind, and his head
was shaken and twisted about, as though it had been the purport of the
assailant to wrench it from his shoulders. Mrs. Philpot instantly made
her escape from the kitchen, leaving her spouse in the hands of the
enraged Sally, who, under the influence of the teetotum delusion, was
firmly persuaded that she was justly inflicting wholesome discipline
upon her husband, whom she had, as she conceived, caught in the act of
making love to the maid. Sally was active and strong, and Jacob Philpot
was, as before hinted, somewhat obese, and, withal, not in excellent
“wind;” consequently it was some time ere he could disengage himself;
and then he stood panting and blowing, and utterly lost in astonishment,
while Sally saluted him with divers appellations, which it would not be
seemly here to set down.
When Jacob did find his tongue, however, he answered her much in the
same style; and added, that he had a great mind to lay a stick about
her back. “What,” strike a woman! “Eh--would you, you coward?”--and
immediately she darted forward, and, as she termed it, put her mark
upon him with her nails, whereby his rubicund countenance was greatly
disfigured, and his patience entirely exhausted: but Sally was too
nimble, and made her escape up stairs. So the landlord of the Red Lion,
having got rid of the two mad or drunken women, very philosophically
resolved to sit down for half an hour by himself, to think oyer the
business, while he took his “night cap.” He had scarcely brewed the
ingredients, when he was roused by a rap at the window; and, in
answer to his inquiry of “Who’s there?” he recognised the voice of his
neighbour, George Syms, and, of course, immediately admitted him; for
George was a good customer, and, consequently, welcome at all hours. “My
good friend,” said Syms, “I dare say you are surprised to see me here at
this time of night; but I can’t get into my own house. My wife is drunk,
I believe.”--“And so is mine,” quoth the landlord; “so sit you down
and make yourself comfortable. Hang me if I think I’ll go to bed to
night!”--“No more will I,” said Syms; “I’ve got a job to do early in the
morning, and then I shall be ready for it.” So the two friends sat down,
and had scarcely begun to enjoy themselves, when another rap was heard
at the window, and mine host recognised the voice of Peter Brown, who
came with the same complaint against his wife, and was easily persuaded
to join the party, each declaring that the women must have contrived
to meet, during their absence from home, and all got fuddled together.
Matters went on pleasantly enough for some time, while they continued
to rail against the women; but, when that subject was exhausted, George
Syms, the shoe-maker, began to talk about shoeing horses; and Peter
Brown, the Blacksmith, averred that he could make a pair of jockey boots
with any man for fifty miles round. The host of the rampant Red Lion
considered these things at first as a sort of joke, which he had no
doubt, from such good customers, was exceedingly good, though he could
not exactly comprehend it. But when Peter Brown answered to the name of
George Syms, and George Syms responded to that of Peter Brown, he was
somewhat more bewildered, and could not help thinking that his guests
had drunk quite enough. He, however, satisfied himself with the
reflection that that was no business of his, and that “a man must live
by his trade.” With the exception of these apparent occasional cross
purposes, conversation went on as well as could be expected under
existing circumstances, and the three unfortunate husbands sat and
talked, and drank, and smoked, till tired nature cried, “hold, enough!”
Leaving them to their slumbers, we must now say a word or two about the
teetotum, the properties of which were to change people’s characters,
spinning the mind of one man or woman into the body of another.
The duration of the delusion, caused by this droll game of the old
gentleman’s, depended upon the length of time spent in the diversion;
and five minutes was the specific period for causing it to last till
the next sun-rise or sun-set _after_ the change had been effected.
Therefore, when the morning came, Mrs. Philpot and Sally, and Peter
Brown and George Syms, all came to their senses. The two latter went
quietly home with aching heads and very confused recollections of the
preceding evening; and shortly after their departure Mrs. Philpot awoke
in great astonishment at finding herself in the garret; and Sally was
equally surprised and much alarmed, at finding herself in her mistress’s
room, from which she hastened in quick time, leaving all things in due
order.
The elderly stranger made his appearance soon after, and appeared to
have brushed up his shabby genteel clothes, for he really looked
much more respectable than on the preceding evening. He ordered
his breakfast, and sat down thereto very quietly, and asked for the
newspaper, and pulled out his spectacles, and began to con the politics
of the day much at his ease, no one having the least suspicion that he
and his teetotum had been the cause of all the uproar at the Red Lion.
In due time the landlord made his appearance, with sundry marks of
violence upon his jolly countenance, and, after due obeisance made to
his respectable-looking guest, took the liberty of telling his spouse
that he should insist upon her sending Sally away, for he had never been
so mauled since he was born; but Mrs. Philpot told him that he ought to
be ashamed of himself, and she was very glad the girl had spirit enough
to protect herself, and that she wouldn’t part with her on any account.
She then referred to what had passed in the back kitchen, taking to
herself the credit of having inflicted that punishment which had been
administered by the hands of Sally.
Jacob Philpot was now more than ever convinced that his wife had been
paying her respects to a huge stone bottle of rum which stood in the
closet; and he “made bold” to tell her his thoughts, whereat Mrs.
Philpot thought fit to put herself into a tremendous passion, although
she could not help fearing that, perhaps, she might have taken a drop
too much of something, for she was unable, in any other manner, to
account for having slept in the garret.
The elderly stranger now took upon himself to recommend mutual
forgiveness, and stated that it was really quite pardonable for any one
to take a little too much of such very excellent ale as that at the Red
Lion. “For my own part,” said he, “I don’t know whether I didn’t get a
trifle beyond the mark myself last night. But I hope, madam, I did not
annoy you.”
“Oh dear, no, not at all, Sir,” replied Mrs. Philpot, whose good-humour
was restored at this compliment, paid to the good cheer of the Lion,
“you were exceeding pleasant, I assure you, just enough to make you
funny; we had a hearty laugh about the teetotum, you know.”--“Ah!” said
the stranger, “I guess how it was then. I always introduce the teetotum
when I want to be merry.”
Jacob Philpot expressed a wish to understand the game, and after
spinning it two or three times, proposed to take his chance, for five
minutes, with the stranger; but the latter, laughing heartily, would
by no means agree with the proposition, and declared that it would be
downright cheating, as he was an overmatch for any beginner. “However,”
he continued, “as soon as any of your neighbours come in, I’ll put you
in the way of it, and we’ll have some of your ale, now, just to pass the
time. It will do neither of us any harm after last night’s affair, and I
want to have some talk with you about the coal trade.”
They accordingly sat down together, and the stranger displayed
considerable knowledge in the science of mining; and Jacob was so much
delighted with his companion, that an hour or two slipped away, as he
said, “in no” and then there was heard the sound of a horse’s feet
at the door, and a somewhat authoratative hillo!
“It is our parson,” said Jacob, starting up, and he ran to the door to
enquire what might be his reverence’s pleasure. “Good morning,” said the
Reverend Mr. Stanhope. “I’m going over to dine with our club at the Old
Boar, and I want you just to cast your eye on those fellows in my home
close; you can see them out of your parlour window.”--“Yes, to be
sure, Sir,” replied Jacob “Hem!” quoth Mr. Stanhope, “have you any body
indoors?”--“Yes, Sir, we have,” replied Jacob, “a strange gentleman,
who seems to know a pretty deal about mining and them sort of things. I
think he’s some great person in disguise, he seems regularly edicated,
up to every thing.”--“Eh, ah! a great person in disguise!” exclaimed Mr.
Stanhope; “I’ll just step in a minute. It seems as if there was a shower
coming over, and I’m in no hurry, and it is not worth while to get wet
through for the sake of a few minutes.” So he alighted from his horse,
soliloquizing to himself. “Perhaps the Lord Chancellor! Who knows?
However, I shall take care to show my principles;” and straightway he
went into the house, and was most respectfully saluted by the elderly
stranger; and they entered into a conversation upon the standing English
topics of weather, wind, crops, and the coal trade; and Mr. Stanhope
contrived to introduce therein sundry unkind things against the Pope and
all his followers; and avowed himself a staunch “church and king” man,
and spake enthusiastically of our “glorious constitution,” and lauded
divers individuals then in power, but more particularly those who
studied the true interests of the church, by seeking out and preferring
men of merit and talent to fill vacant benefices. The stranger thereat
smiled significantly, as though he could, if he felt disposed, say
something to the purpose; and Mr. Stanhope felt more inclined than ever
to think the landlord might have conjectured very near the truth, and
consequently, redoubled his efforts to make the agreeable, professing
his regret at being obliged to dine out that day, &c. The stranger
politely thanked him for his polite consideration, and stated that he
was never at a loss for employment, and that he was then rambling, for a
few days, to relax his mind from the fatigues of an overwhelming mass of
important business, to which his duty compelled him to attend early and
late. “Perhaps,” he continued, “you will smile when I tell you that I
am now engaged in a series of experiments relative to the power of the
centrifugal force, and its capacity of overcoming various degrees of
friction.” (Here he produced the teetotum.) “You perceive the different
surfaces of the under edge of this little thing. The outside, you see,
is all of ivory, but indented in various ways; and yet I have not been
able to decide whether the roughest or smoothest more frequently arrest
its motions. The colours, of course, are merely indications. Here is my
register, and he produced a book, wherein divers mathematical abstruse
calculations were apparent.
“I always prefer other people to spin it, as then I obtain a variety of
impelling power. Perhaps you will do me the favour just to twirl it
round a few times alternately with the landlord? Two make a fairer
experiment than one. Just for five minutes. I’ll not trouble you a
moment longer, I promise you.”--“Hem!” thought Mr. Stanhope--
“Learned men, now and then,
Have very strange vagaries!”
However, he commenced spinning the teetotum, turn and turn with Jacob
Philpot, who was highly delighted both with the drollery of the thing,
and the honour of playing with the parson of the parish, and laughed
most immoderately, while the stranger stood by, looking at his
stop-watch as demurely as on the preceding evening, until the five
minutes had expired; and then, in the middle of the Reverend Mr.
Stanhope’s spin, he took up the little toy and put it into his pocket.
Jacob Philpot immediately arose, and shook the stranger warmly by the
hand, and told him, that he should be happy to see him whenever he came
that way again; and then nodding to Mr. Stanhope and the landlady, went
out at the front door, mounted the horse that stood there, and rode
away. “Where’s the fellow going?” cried Mrs. Philpot; “Hillo! Jacob, I
say!”--“Well mother,” said the Reverend Mr. Stanhope, “what’s the
matter now?”--but Mrs. Philpot had reached the front of the house, and
continued to shout. “Hillo! hillo, come back, I tell you!”--“That woman
is always doing some strange thing or other,” observed Mr. Stanhope
to the stranger “What on earth can possess her to go calling after the
parson in that manner?”--“I declare he’s rode off with squire Jones’s
horse,” cried Mrs. Philpot, re-entering the house. “To be sure he
has,” said Mr. Stanhope; “he borrowed it on purpose to go to the Old
Boar.”--“Did he?” exclaimed the landlady; “and without telling me a word
about it! But I’ll Old Boar him I promise you!”--“Don’t make such a fool
of yourself, mother,” said the parson; “it can’t signify twopence to you
where he goes.”--“Can’t it?” rejoined Mrs. Philpot. “I’ll tell you
what, your worship-”--“Don’t worship me woman,” exclaimed the teetotum
landlord parson; “worship, what nonsense now! Why, you’ve been taking
your drops again this morning, I think. Worship, indeed! To be sure, I
did once, like a fool, promise to worship _you_; but if my time was to
come over again, I know what-. But, never mind now--don’t you see it’s
twelve o’clock? Come, quick, let us have what there is to eat, and then
we’ll have a comfortable pipe under the tree. What say you, Sir?”--“With
all my heart,” replied the elderly stranger. The latter hoped they
should have the pleasure of Mrs. Philpot’s company; but she looked
somewhat doubtfully till the parson said, “Come, come, mother, don’t
make a bother about it.” Therefore she smoothed her apron and made one
at the dinner table, and conducted herself with so much precision, that
the teetotum parson looked upon her with considerable surprise,
while she regarded him with no less, inasmuch as he talked in a very
unclerical manner; and, among other strange things, swore, that his
wife was as “drunk as blazes” the night before, and winked at her, and
behaved altogether in a style very unbecoming a minister in his own
parish.
At one o’clock there was a great sensation caused in the village of
Stockwell, by the appearance of their reverend pastor and the elderly
stranger, sitting on the bench which went round the tree, which stood
before the sign of the roaring rampant Red Lion, each with a long pipe
in his mouth, blowing clouds, which would not have disgraced the most
inveterate smoker of the “black diamond” fraternity, and ever and anon
moistening their clay with “heavy wet,” from tankards placed upon a
small table, which Mrs. Philpot had provided for their accommodation.
The little boys and girls first approached within a respectful distance,
and then ran away giggling to tell their companions; and they told their
mothers, who came and peeped likewise; and many were diverted, and many
were scandalized at the sight; yet the parson seemed to care for none of
these things, but cracked his joke, and sipped his ale, and smoked
his pipe, with as much easy nonchalance as if he had been in his own
arm-chair at the rectory. Yet it must be confessed that now and then
there was a sort of equivocal remark made by him, as though he had some
faint recollection of his former profession, although he evinced not
the smallest sense of shame at the change which had been wrought in him.
Indeed this trifling imperfection in the change of identity appears to
have attended such transformations in general, and might have arisen
from the individual bodies retaining their own clothes (for the mere
fashion of dress hath a great influence on some minds), or, perhaps,
because a profession or trade, with the habits thereof, cannot be
entirely shaken off, nor a new one perfectly learned, by spinning a
teetotum for five minutes. The time had now arrived when George Syms,
the shoemaker, and Peter Brown, the blacksmith, were accustomed to take
their “pint and pipe after dinner,” and greatly were they surprised to
see their places so occupied; and not a little was their astonishment
increased, when the parson lifted up his voice, and ordered Sally to
bring out a couple of chairs, and then shook them both warmly by
the hand, and welcomed them by the affectionate appellation of “my
hearties!”
[Illustration: 145]