CHAPTER VI.--A Commission.

"Och! thin, Paddy, what's the bothuration; if you carry me, don't I carry

the whiskey, sure, and that's fair and aqual!"

I was early at my post on the following morning, being particularly

anxious to meet with Mr. Wallis's scapegrace nephew, and ascertain

whether anybody had found the dead body of the game-cock, and whether an

inquest had been held; for I knew enough of the world to draw my own

conclusions as to the result. He, although the principal, being a

relative, would get off with a lecture, while I should probably be kicked

out of my place.

In a fever of expectation, I hung over the banisters of the geometrical

staircase, watching for his arrival.

While I was thus occupied, my nerves "screwed up,"--almost to cracking,

Mr. Wallis's office-door was thrown open, and I beheld that very

gentleman's round, pleasant physiognomy, embrowned by his travels,

staring me full in the face. I really lost my equilibrium at the

apparition.

"Oh!--it's you, is it," cried he. "Where's my rascal?"

"He's not come yet, sir," I replied.

"That fellow's never at hand when I want him--I'll cashier him by ___."

He slammed to his own door, and--opened it again immediately.

"Timmis come?" demanded he.

"No, sir; I don't think he'll be here for an hour."

"True--I'm early in the field; but what brings you here so soon?--some

mischief, I suppose."

"I'm always early, sir, for I live hard by."

"Ha!--well--I wish--."

"Can I do anything for you, sir?" I enquired.

"Why, that's a good thought," said he, and his countenance assumed its

usually bland expression. "Let me see--I want to send my carpet-bag, and

a message, to my housekeeper."

"I can do it, sir, and be back again in no time," cried I, elated at

having an opportunity of obliging the man whom I had really some cause to

fear, in the critical situation in which his nephew's thoughtlessness had

placed me.

In my eagerness, however, and notwithstanding the political acuteness of

my manoeuvre, I got myself into an awful dilemma. Having received the

bag, and his message, I walked off, but had scarcely descended a dozen

stairs when he recalled me.

"Where the devil are you going?" cried he.

"To your house, sir," I innocently replied.

"What, do you know it, then?" demanded he in surprise.

Here was a position. It was a miracle that I did not roll over the

carpet-bag and break my neck, in the confusion of ideas engendered by

this simple query.

I could not lie, and evasion was not my forte. A man or boy in the wrong

can never express himself with propriety; an opinion in which Quinctilian

also appears to coincide, when he asserts--

"Orator perfectus nisi vir bonus esse non potest."

I therefore summoned up sufficient breath and courage to answer him in

the affirmative.

"And when, pray, were you there?" said he.

"Yesterday, sir, your nephew asked me to come and see him."

"The impudent little blackguard?" cried he.

"I hope you ain't angry, sir?"

"Angry with you?--no, my lad; you're an active little chap, and I wish

that imp of mine would take a pattern by you. Trot along, and mind you

have 'a lift' both ways."

Off I went, as light as a balloon when the ropes are cut.

I executed my commission with dispatch, and completely won the favour of

Mr. Wallis, by returning the money which he had given me for coach-hire.

"How's this?--you didn't tramp, did you?" said he.

"No, sir, I rode both ways," I replied; "but I knew the coachmen, and

they gave me a cast for nothing."

"Umph!--well, that's quite proper--quite proper," said he, considering a

moment. "Honesty's the best policy."

"Father always told me so, sir."

"Your father's right;--there's half-a-crown for you."

I was delighted--

"Quantum cedat virtutibus aurum;"

and I felt the truth of this line of Dr. Johnson's, although I was then

ignorant of it. I met his nephew on the landing, but my fears had

vanished. We talked, however, of the departed bird, and he wished me, in

the event of discovery, to declare that I had loaded and carried the gun,

and that he would bear the rest of the blame.

This, however, strongly reminded me of the two Irish smugglers:--one had

a wooden leg, and carried the cask; while his comrade, who had the use of

both his pins, bore him upon his shoulders, and, complaining of the

weight, the other replied:--"Och! thin, Paddy, what's the bothuration; if

you carry me, don't I carry the whiskey, sure, and that's fair and

aqual!" and I at once declined any such Hibernian partnership in the

affair, quite resolved that he should bear the whole onus upon his own

shoulders.

CHAPTER, VII.--The Cricket Match

"Out! so don't fatigue yourself, I beg, sir."

I soon discovered that my conduct had been reported in the most

favourable colours to Mr. Timmis, and the consequence was that he began

to take more notice of me.

"Andrew, what sort of a fist can you write?" demanded he. I shewed him

some caligraphic specimens.

"D___ me, if your y's and your g's hav'nt tails like skippingropes. We

must have a little topping and tailing here, and I think you'll do. Here,

make out this account, and enter it in the book."

He left me to do his bidding; and when he returned from the

Stock-Exchange, inspected the performance, which I had executed with

perspiring ardour.

I watched his countenance. "That'll do--you're a brick! I'll make a man

of you--d___ me."

From this day forward I had the honour of keeping his books, and making

out the accounts. I was already a person of importance, and certainly

some steps above the boys on the landing.

I did not, however, obtain any advance in my weekly wages; but on

"good-days" got a douceur, varying from half a crown to half a sovereign!

and looked upon myself as a made man. Most of the receipts went to my

father; whatever he returned to me I spent at a neighbouring book-stall,

and in the course of twelve months I possessed a library of most amusing

and instructive literature,--Heaven knows! of a most miscellaneous

character, for I had no one to guide me in the selection.

Among Mr. Timmis's numerous clients, was one Mr. Cornelius Crobble, a man

of most extraordinary dimensions; he was also a "chum" of, and frequently

made one of a party with, his friend Mr. Wallis, and other croneys, to

white-bait dinners at Blackwall, and other intellectual banquets. In

fact, he seldom made his appearance at the office, but the visit ended in

an engagement to dine at some "crack-house" or other. The cost of the

"feed," as Mr. Timmis termed it, was generally decided by a toss of "best

two and three;" and somehow it invariably happened that Mr. Crobble lost;

but he was so good-humoured, that really it was a pleasure, as Mr. Wallis

said, to "grub" at his expense.

They nick-named him Maximo Rotundo--and he well deserved the title.

"Where's Timmis?" said he, one day after he had taken a seat, and puffed

and blowed for the space of five minutes--"Cuss them stairs; they'll be

the death o' me."

I ran to summon my master.

"How are you, old fellow?" demanded Mr. Timmis; "tip us your fin."

"Queer!" replied Mr. Crobble,--tapping his breast gently with his fat

fist, and puffing out his cheeks--to indicate that his lungs were

disordered.

"What, bellows to mend?" cried my accomplished patron-- D___ me, never

say die!"

"Just come from Doctor Sprawles: says I must take exercise; no malt

liquor--nothing at breakfast--no lunch--no supper."

"Why, you'll be a skeleton--a transfer from the consolidated to the

reduced in no time," exclaimed Mr. Timmis; and his friend joined in the

laugh.

"I was a-thinking, Timmis--don't you belong to a cricketclub?"

"To be sure."

--"Of joining you."

"That's the ticket," cried Timmis--"consider yourself elected; I can

carry any thing there. I'm quite the cock of the walk, and no mistake.

Next Thursday's a field-day--I'll introduce you. Lord! you'll soon be

right as a trivet."

Mr Wallis was summoned, and the affair was soon arranged; and I had the

gratification of being present at Mr. Crobble's inauguration.

It was a broiling day, and there was a full field; but he conducted

himself manfully, notwithstanding the jokes of the club. He batted

exceedingly well, "considering," as Mr. Wallis remarked; but as for the

"runs," he was completely at fault.

He only attempted it once; but before he had advanced a yard or two, the

ball was caught; and the agile player, striking the wicket with ease,

exclaimed, amid the laughter of the spectators--"Out! so don't fatigue

yourself, I beg, sir."

And so the match was concluded, amid cheers and shouting, in which the

rotund, good-natured novice joined most heartily.

Sketches by Seymour — Volume 05 · 第 6 / 16 章