About the middle of Shoemaker-row, near to Broadway, Blackfriars, there
resided for many years a substantial hardwareman, named Ephraim
Wagstaff. He was short in stature, tolerably well favoured in
countenance, and singularly neat and clean in his attire. Everybody in
the neighbourhood looked upon him as a “warm” old man; and when he died,
the property he left behind him did not bely the preconceived opinion.
It was all personal, amounted to about nineteen thousand pounds; and, as
he was childless, it went to distant relations, with the exception of a
few hundred pounds bequeathed to public charities.
The family of Ephraim Wagstaff, both on the male and female sides, was
respectable, though not opulent. His maternal grandfather, he used to
say, formed part of the executive government in the reign of George I.,
whom he served as petty constable in one of the manufacturing districts
during a long period. The love of office seems not to have been
hereditary in the family; or perhaps the opportunities of gratifying it
did not continue; for, with that single exception, none of his ancestors
could boast of official honours. The origin of the name is doubtful. On
a first view, it seems evidently the conjunction of two names brought
together by marriage or fortune. In the “Tatler” we read about the
_staff_ in a variety of combinations, under one of which the popular
author of that work chose to designate himself, and thereby conferred
immortality on the name of Bickerstaff. Our friend Ephraim was no great
wit, but he loved a joke, particularly if he made it himself; and he
used to say, whenever he heard any one endeavouring to account for his
name, that he believed it originated in the marriage of a Miss Staff to
some Wag who lived near her; and who, willing to show his gallantry, and
at the same time his knowledge of French customs, adopted the fashion of
that sprightly people, by adding her family name to his own. The
conjecture is at least probable, and so we must leave it.
At the age of fifty-two it pleased heaven to deprive Mr. Wagstaff of his
beloved spouse Barbara. The bereavement formed an era in his history.
Mrs. Wagstaff was an active, strong woman, about ten years older than
himself, and one sure to be missed in any circle wherein she had once
moved. She was indeed no cipher. Her person was tall and bony, her face,
in hue, something between brown and red, had the appearance of having
been scorched. Altogether her qualities were truly commanding. She loved
her own way exceedingly; was continually on the alert to have it; and,
in truth, generally succeeded. Yet such was her love of justice, that
she has been heard to aver repeatedly, that she never (she spoke the
word _never_ emphatically) opposed her husband, but when he was
decidedly in the wrong. Of these occasions, it must also be mentioned,
she generously took upon herself the trouble and responsibility of being
the sole judge. There was one point, however, on which it would seem
that Mr. Wagstaff had contrived to please himself exclusively; although,
how he had managed to resist so effectually the remonstrances and
opposition which, from the structure of his wife’s mind he must
necessarily have been doomed to encounter, must ever remain a secret.
The fact was this: Ephraim had a peculiarly strong attachment to a pipe;
his affection for his amiable partner scarcely exceeding that which he
entertained for that lively emblem of so many sage contrivances and
florid speeches, ending like it--in smoke. In the times of his former
wives (for twice before had he been yoked in matrimony) he had indulged
himself with it unmolested. Not so with Mrs. Wagstaff the third. Pipes
and smoking she held in unmitigated abhorrence: but having, by whatever
means, been obliged to submit to their introduction, she wisely avoided
all direct attempts to abate what she called among her friends “the
nuisance;” and, like a skilful general, who has failed of securing
victory, she had recourse to such stratagems as might render it as
little productive as possible to the enemy. Ephraim, aware how matters
stood, neglected no precaution to guard against his wife’s
manœuvres--meeting, of course, with various success. Many a time did her
ingenuity contrive an accident, by which his pipe and peace of mind were
at once demolished; and, although there never could be any difficulty in
replacing the former by simply sending out for that purpose, yet he has
confessed, that when he contemplated the possibility of offering too
strong an excitement to the shrill tones of his beloved’s voice, (the
only pipe she willingly tolerated,) he waved that proceeding, and
submitted to the sacrifice as much the lesser evil. At length Mrs.
Wagstaff was taken ill, an inflammation on her lungs was found to be her
malady, and that crisis appeared to be fast approaching, when
The doctor leaves the house with sorrow,
Despairing of his fee to-morrow.
The foreboding soon proved correct; and, every thing considered, perhaps
it ought not to excite much surprise, that when Ephraim heard from the
physician that there was little or no chance of her recovery, he
betrayed no symptoms of excessive emotion, but mumbling something
unintelligibly, in which the doctor thought he caught the sound of the
words “Christian duty of resignation,” he quietly filled an additional
pipe that evening. The next day Mrs. Wagstaff expired, and in due time
her interment took place in the church-yard of St. Ann, Blackfriars,
every thing connected therewith being conducted with the decorum
becoming so melancholy an event, and which might be expected from a man
of Mr. Wagstaff’s gravity and experience. The funeral was a walking one
from the near vicinity to the ground; and but for an untimely slanting
shower of rain, no particular inconvenience would have been felt by
those who were assembled on that occasion; that casualty, however,
caused them to be thoroughly drenched; and, in reference to their
appearance, it was feelingly observed by some of the bystanders, that
they had seldom seen so many tears on the faces of mourners.--
_To be continued_--(perhaps.)