At length, after a pause of some moments, “Nephew,” said my uncle,
“if you’ll lend me your arm, I’ll treat you with a walk round my
grounds; you was always a promising lad, and I hope I shan’t be
deceived in you. I wish to make your time pass pleasantly; I shall
do all in my power to make you comfortable; I’m an odd man, but I
must have my way; I shall pay well for’t in time; you understand me,
boy; all’s in _your_ power, if you mind your hits. I haven’t made my
will yet;” and he winked me a sagacious leer, intimating a sort of
_cobweb_ promise.
We now proceeded to the garden, where, miserable to relate, the high
narrow heels of my Cordovan Hessians so perforated the damp gravel,
that wherever I trod, an ungracious cavity marked the spot, which
the vigilant eye of my uncle soon discovered, and he halloed with
the vehemence of a Stentor, for Geoffry to bring the flat clogs,
declaring that a mad ox could not have done him more mischief.
In vain I apologized; he looked as sulky as a bear, and requested
I’d pluck him half a dozen peaches; the fruit looked tempting, and I
obeyed his command; but lo, when he came to _pinch_ them, not one was
ripe enough to please his palate.
“Psha! what an oaf thou art, child! These peaches are as hard as
iron; they are not worth a ----” the sentence I must not repeat,
though I both heard and felt it.
“I _thought_ they were ripe, Sir,” and I cast a penitent look.
“Never _think_ for any body but yourself, Sir,” and on we walked arm
in arm, till we came within sight of a remarkable fine cherry tree,
at the foot of which stood a short ladder, which my uncle requested
me to ascend, and gather a leaf-full of cherries.
Alert as a squirrel, up I mounted, and espying one bunch loaded with
delicious clusters, I fixed my foot on a protruding bough, and had
just got the tempting prize in my hand, when from some perverse fate
that seemed doomed to attend me, the treacherous basis snapped under
my foot, and precipitated me to the ground, bringing with me an
immense branch, to which I mechanically clung for preservation.
Stunned with the fall, and smothered with the mashed cherries, though
I had incurred no other injury, had you seen my uncle’s countenance,
you would never have forgotten it; he stood petrified at the sight of
his mutilated tree, but my broken neck or limbs seemed no object of
consideration.
“I am not hurt,” said I, picking myself nimbly up.
“But my tree is materially injured; you have done me a guinea’s worth
of damage in a moment.”
“But I might have broken a limb, which would have been much worse.”
“You have _limbed_ my finest tree, however, Sir; run into the house,
and call Geoffry.”
Off I bounded, but as I had committed so much depredation on the
gravel, I ran across the lawn, where I had scarce set foot, when my
uncle’s terrific vociferation to “come off, come off,” arrested my
pace.
“What the devil are you galloping like a race-horse over the lawn
for? Go round by the shrubbery, and up the espalier walk, you Sir,
d’ye hear?”
I obeyed his mandate, and springing from the lawn, I took the
premised direction; but I had not proceeded ten yards before the
crown of my hat caught the branch of a low standard apricot, and
knock off a cluster of seven, which rolled in golden balls at my feet.
“The devil has certainly bewitched me,” said I, stooping to pick up
the fruit, when a plaguy officious pug dog, who was at that moment
making towards me, ran between my feet; and losing my equilibrium,
I pitched heels over head, and dashed off a fine young nonpareil
espalier at one crash.
Dismayed with vexation, I had only to pick up the apricots, which
I thought most prudent to put out of sight, by swallowing them as
fast as possible; but with the espalier I could do nothing without
the advice and assistance of Geoffry, though, thank heaven, my uncle
was out of sight of my dilemma, and being pretty expeditious in my
motions, I soon reached the hall door, where my unlucky stars again
clashed in conjunction, for turning round rather too sharp, my elbow
struck one of the crown glass panes, and shivered it completely.
Poor Geoffry stood a statue of astonishment and despair. “Master will
never forgive you, Sir for sartin sure; they panes bees a guineas
a-piece; dear heart! dear heart! what a mishap!”
I then briefly related the accident of the cherry and espalier trees,
the latter of which he assured me he would endeavour to repair,
provided it did not meet the old gentleman’s eye, “for which reason
I shall persuade him to return to the house as fast as possible, for
fear of rain,” said Geoffry.
“Is you master always so ill tempered and snappish?” asked I.
“I have never seen him otherwise these thirty years,” replied
Geoffry, as we quickened our pace down the portentous espalier walk,
where lay the levelled nonpariel, which he gave me hopes of being
able to replace without discovery. “But the pane of glass,” continued
he, “how shall we get over that? We must not lay it on the dog;
Master knows better, and never forgives a lie.” We therefore agreed
he should fetch the glazier, and I pay the expence, as the best mode
of preventing anger.
By this time we were in sight of my uncle, who was busily picking off
the cherries from the broken branch, and soliloquizing with numerous
oaths on my aukwardness in a muttering tone, as we approached.
“Here’s a pretty job!” exclaimed he; “here’s a pretty concern!”
“It might have been worse, Sir,” said Geoffry scratching his head.
“The gentleman might have broke his neck! Lack a daisey, Sir, never
care about it; it has saved me the trouble of lopping next autumn;
for it must have come off; it’s all seer wood, so of a bad job, I
think it turns out a good one.”
“What signifies what you think?” replied my uncle. “I think you
talk like an old fool; clear it away out of my sight; it will be a
memorial to me of my nephew’s aukwardness as long as I live.”
“This has indeed been one of the perplexing hours of my existence,”
replied I, “but I hope I shall be able, my dear Sir, to make you
amends.”
“Psha! that’s mighty unlikely,” retorted he; “and as for _hoping_
about it, hope won’t mend my tree; hopes are cobwebs dangling in the
air, possessing just as much substance as their texture.”
Poor old Geoffry, who plainly discerned the black cloud that deepened
his master’s brow, and dreaded the second part of the storm, gave me
a jog of the elbow, and a significant wink, and with a face of much
earnest enquiry, thus addressed him:
“Pray, Sir, did you leave the hall door open?”
“Perhaps I might; I believe I did; why, what of that?”
“Why then, Sir,” continued Geoffry, winking with both his eyes, “it
has slapped too with the _wind_ or _somehow_, and dashed a pane of
glass all to shivers.”
“Impossible!” cried my uncle; “totally impossible, if the wind blew
a hurricane from every point of the compass, it could not break that
glass.”
“But it could slam the door, I suppose,” rejoined Geoffry, who had
now triumphantly carried his point, “for I’ll swear, please your
honour, I found it in that state; it made noise enough, and neither I
or the maids were near it, and you and Mr. Victor were in the garden.
So, in short, Sir, it must be your own fault, I’m sure. The gentleman
saw all the broken glass, and was as flustered like as I was; wasn’t
you, Sir?”
This appeal demanded as ingenious a reply as Geoffry had hatched
to save anger, and I therefore vehemently asserted that I _saw_ the
disaster, and it really did appear incredulous that the _wind_ should
have such power, but such causes and effects would occasionally take
place in despite of all caution.
“It’s a mighty strange occurrence,” continued my uncle, musing on his
cane; “there don’t seem to be any wind stirring.”
“Oh, yes, there is; and it’s going to blow up rain in a few minutes;
lauk, Sir, you haven’t got your hat on; you had better return to the
house the way you came, and shew Mr. Victor the rest of the grounds
to-morrow morning.”
“Well, I believe that will be the best way, Geoffry, for I’m horridly
bored with perplexities this morning; come, Victor, give me your arm;
there, gently! Don’t walk so fast; you’ll pull me down.”
We now crept on a funeral pace, he grumbling at his own supposed
carelessness, and execrating the wind, I secretly laughing in my
sleeve, and admiring the ingenuity of old Geoffry, who out of three
troubles had relieved me of two most consequential ones.
The mutilated pane proved the next source of perplexity, and Geoffry
was dispatched down the village to fetch the glazier, who soon
repaired the damage, and all was right.
Dinner shortly after made its appearance, and with it commenced my
further vexations. A carp bone first stuck in my throat to torment
me, and in a paroxysm of strangulation attempting to swallow some
beer, I threw it all over the tablecloth.
My uncle execrated my aukwardness, and observed my bread lay on the
wrong side of my plate, which those who studied men and manners
ought to know; but some _never_ arrived at the age of discretion.
With such like taunts, the fish and fowl was removed for a supply of
tarts and jellies, both which I should have managed extremely well,
if a new plague, in the shape of a codling dumpling, (my uncle’s
most favourite dish) had not made its appearance, to dress which my
uncle requested me to hand him a little melted butter, which with
my usual alacrity I whipped into the cavity of the dumpling, to the
great dismay of my uncle, who precipitately exclaimed, “It’s anchovy
sauce, by G--d. Take it out of my sight; clear the table, and let me
starve;” then rising abruptly, “if you can’t say grace, nephew, let
Geoffry repeat it over the dumpling.”
“The tureens being covered, Sir, I really did not perceive the
difference of the sauces. I sincerely beg pardon; but in my zeal to
serve you I confess I have committed a most provoking mistake,” said
I.
“Aye, it’s that plaguy zeal, as you call it, that does so much
mischief. I little thought, when I stood sponsor for you, what a
clumsy fellow you’d make. I’m sure you’re old enough to know better;
I believe by my chronological book you’re three and twenty.”