of a varied nature, and is enjoying a little light relaxation by digging
violently in his garden. He has taken off his jacket, and a good deal of
his depression seems to have been removed at the same time--it _must_ be
depressing to be compelled to reside in a somewhat tight corduroy jacket
all your life--and as he digs he hums to himself a sort of merry dirge.
I endeavour to enter into the spirit of the thing, and sympathise with
him in his relaxation. I say cheerfully, as if I knew all about it, "Ah!
nice fine weather for the----!" I cannot for the life of me think what
it is nice fine weather for. My friend says, "Eh?" I observe he is not
so respectful in his private as in his porterial capacity. I reply,
"Quite so!" whereupon he rejoins, "Ha! but we could do wi' a bit o' rain
for the----." Cannot catch remainder of his sentence; but I never yet
met a gardener who couldn't "do wi' a bit o' rain" for something or
other.
We begin to be quite voluble on the subject of plants and crops. I find
he knows so much more on the subject than I do, but I merely nod my head
and smile weakly and presently move quietly away. When I reach the other
end of the platform I hear the sharp jingle of the telegraph bell and
the jerk of the signal levers. Presently a very prim and neat
station-master appears, who looks as if he had just been turned out of
one of the band-boxes in the waiting room. There is also a very active
boy porter, who is apparently trying to run over the station-master with
a truck. My old friend is walking slowly along the platform. He has left
the gay horticulturist in the garden, and has assumed the Faded
Misanthrope with his corduroy jacket. He tells me that the train is now
coming--the one that will bring my portmanteau. The train presently
stops; a few dazed agriculturists, and a very stout fussy old lady,
half-a-dozen milk cans, and my portmanteau are put out.
I am gazing at the latter to be quite sure it is my own, when I hear
myself addressed by name. I turn round and see a smart groom whose face
I know well. "Anything else beside the portmanteau, sir?" he says,
touching his hat. "Sir Charles is outside with the waggonette; the new
pair is a little bit fresh, and he don't like to leave 'em."
That is all right. I think to myself I shall dine at Clewmere after all.
(_By permission of the Author._)
MARRIED TO A GIANTESS.
WALTER PARKE.
I loved her with all my heart, and, indeed, it took all my heart to
accomplish the feat; for, in sooth, there was a great deal--a very great
deal--of her to love. Although only "sweet seventeen," she had reached
the commanding stature of nine feet nine inches, and, to use the words
of a familiar advertisement, she was "still growing."
From my childhood I had doated on the gigantic, loved the lofty, admired
the massive, and had a weakness for strength. The tales I best loved
were those of giants.
Can you wonder, then, that when I heard that the celebrated Samothracian
Giantess, Goliathina Immensikoff, from the wilds of Wallachia, the
largest woman in the world, was approaching London, my soul was stirred
by the news as by a trumpet-call? I read with the deepest interest the
accounts of her antecedents. I learnt how she was discovered in the
Wilds of Wallachia by Whiteley, the World's Provider, who had "taken her
from the bosom of her family"--and here I could not help exclaiming,
"What a stupendous 'bosom' that 'family' must have had!"
As I reclined on my sofa, smoking the largest possible meerschaum, and
reading with absorbing interest these accounts of one who was certainly
"born to greatness," I suddenly came to a terrific and almost appalling
resolve. Involuntarily I exclaimed, aloud, "She shall be mine!"
Yet how could I hope for success? To win so great a being one must be
not only a lady-killer, but a giant-killer also; and though I bear a
"big" name myself--Hector Gogmagog--Nature has denied me either
extraordinary personal attractions or lofty stature. How hopeless, then,
for me to aspire to the affection of the Monumental Maiden of
Samothracia! Five feet five pitted against nine feet nine is to be
pitted indeed!
But love laughs at obstacles. That evening I went to the Royal Escurial
Theatre, where Mademoiselle Goliathina was performing, and sat
enthralled to witness her impersonation of the Queen of Brobdingnag. The
pictures had not exaggerated. She was "every inch a queen"--a phrase of
some significance when the number of inches mounts up to one hundred and
seventeen.
The next step was to get an introduction. This I accomplished to my
satisfaction, and though at first naturally overawed by her Leviathan
aspect, thenceforward my wooing proceeded rapidly. I had several
interviews with the colossal charmer, at which I had the satisfaction of
discovering that I was more in her eyes than some other men who were
nearer to herself in point of stature. Words of encouragement coming
from those lips, so near and yet so far away, words spoken in soft
Wallachian, yet in tones that Stentor might have envied--elevated me to
the seventh heaven of pride and delight. I already felt taller by
inches--but what was _that_ to her nine feet nine?
I sent her the very biggest bouquets, such as occupied a whole hansom
cab each; love letters, their weight barely covered by eight stamps; and
valentines that would only go by parcels delivery.
All this had its effect. She would have been less than woman, instead of
a very great deal _more_--had she been insensible to my devotion. Can I
ever forget what the poet ecstatically calls "the first kiss of
love"--how, at considerable inconvenience to herself, she bent that
statuesque form to accommodate herself to my limited stature? That
_was_, indeed, "stooping to conquer."
Yet with all this encouragement, it was in fear and trembling that I
approached the momentous question. Fancy a refusal from those lips. It
would be crushing indeed!
"Dearest Goliathina," I said, standing upon the head of the sofa, in
order to place myself upon something like her own exalted level, "say,
oh, say you will be mine. You may be sure of my lifelong devotion. You
will be all in all to me, and, in fact, much more than all; for you are
far too large to be merely my better half. I shall always make much of
you, and look up to you as one infinitely above me. Fortunately, I have
a large heart; but as you occupy it entirely, it would be perfectly
impossible for me to find room for any other object. Were you to reject
me, there would be an immeasurable void in my life, and who else is
capable of filling it?"
She was evidently affected; for what the poet calls a "big round
tear"--and goodness knows _how_ big round tear it was in this
case--could be perceived starting from each of her moonlike eyes. I
clasped her hand--which in point of length was a _foot_--and she did not
withdraw it.
"Fondest Hector," she responded, "I am thine!"
And she leant her head upon my shoulder. I staggered; but by the
exertion of all my strength I was able for some moments to sustain that
delicious burden.
Our wedding took place before the Registrar, who, being of a nervous
temperament, was so overwhelmed at the towering dimensions of the bride,
that he could scarcely get through the ceremony. It was all as private
as so abnormal an affair could possibly be kept, and for a time the
famous female colossus figured no longer at the Royal Escurial as Queen
Brobdingnag, a substitute only six feet two inches having been provided.
Marrying a giantess has its inconveniences. I had to have a house built
with exceptionally lofty rooms and doors ten feet high, with furniture
on a corresponding scale. An ordinary carriage was of no use to my wife,
whose size also frightened the horses; so we had a sort of triumphal car
built, drawn by a circus elephant. It was expensive, but an excellent
advertisement in a theatrical sense. She could never walk out without
being mobbed, and terrifying babies. She dared not visit a friend's
house for fear of frightening the children and destroying the furniture.
And fancy her at a dance! Moreover, our housekeeping expenses were
something frightful.
Anon, darker shadows hovered around our domestic sphere. Her temper
proved to be at times uncertain. At the least attempt to thwart any of
her strange caprices, she grew infuriated; and when annoyed, she had a
way of putting me on the top of a high bookcase, or locking me up in a
cupboard, box, or trunk--for I have said all our belongings were on a
gigantic scale--which was peculiarly humiliating.
About this time we became acquainted with Morlock Mastodon, Drum-Major
to his highness the Grand Duke of Samothracia. The Major, though of
small stature compared with my wife, was considered a giant by ordinary
men, being seven feet ten in height. My fondness for giants rendered
him an eligible acquaintance to me. Mrs. Gogmagog naturally took to one
of her own gigantic species; and the Major was pleased to say that ours
was the only comfortable and commodious house in England--he meant the
only one in which the doors were ten feet high, and the chair-seats four
feet from the ground. Anyhow, he soon made himself at home with us--too
_much_ at home, as I couldn't help thinking. I didn't mind him and my
wife being good friends; but when, in their gigantic loftiness, they
seemed to overlook me altogether, I began to entertain natural feelings
of jealousy. Besides, the Major owed me money--large sums in proportion
to his size, which he had borrowed under the obviously false pretence
that he was "_very short_ just now;" and he seemed in no hurry to pay it
back. What could I do? It was rather a risky thing to expostulate with a
man of seven feet ten; and to turn him out of the house would have been
a task altogether beyond my physical strength. At all events I could
resolve that he should never enter it again; and I gave strict
injunctions that always in future when Major Mastodon called there was
to be "nobody at home."
Moreover, I actually summoned up courage to tell my wife of my
resolution, and even to remonstrate with her upon her own demeanour
towards the gallant and gigantic Major. Then she got into a rage. And
_such_ a rage! Heavens! what had I done? What would become of me? I was
as one who had called down upon his devoted head the wrath of the gods
or of the Titans.
She drew herself up to her full height of nearly ten feet, her eyes
glared like those of a demoniac, and grasping my arm in her Herculean
clutch, she lifted me bodily from the ground.
"Hands off!" I exclaimed, struggling. "Hit one your own size!"
"_My_ own size!" she thundered, in a _contralto profundo_ voice that
shook the very roof. "Where am I to find 'em? The only person
approximating to my own size you have forbidden the house. You--_you_
dare try and control my actions--you, whom I could crush like a
blue-bottle--attempt to dictate to _me_! I will stand this no longer.
You have offended me once too often. You die!"
"Beware, fearful female!" I gasped. "Colossal as you are, the arm of the
law is still longer and even stronger than yours. Kill me, and you will
assuredly die for it!"
She gave a laugh of scorn.
"Me?" she cried. "Do you believe they would hang _me_? No; I am above
all laws, and I have sworn that you shall die!"
And in spite of my struggles she flung me, as easily as if I had been a
doll, right out of the third storey window. Down I fell, down, down,
till I--
---- found myself on the floor. I had tumbled off the sofa, and so
awakened from my terrific dream. Heavens! what a relief to find that
after all I was _not_ married to a giantess, that it was all a vision
due to my falling asleep over the advertisement, and that Mdlle.
Goliathina was but a gigantic nightmare.
(_By permission of the Author._)
THE VISION OF THE ALDERMAN.
HENRY S. LEIGH.
An Alderman sat at a festive board,
Quaffing the blood-red wine,
And many a Bacchanal stave outpour'd
In praise of the fruitful vine.
Turtle and salmon and Strasbourg pie
Pippins and cheese were there;
And the bibulous Alderman wink'd his eye,
For the sherris was old and rare.
But a cloud came o'er his gaze eftsoons,
And his wicked old orbs grew dim;
Then drink turn'd each of the silver spoons
To a couple of spoons for _him_.
He bow'd his head at the festive board,
By the gaslight's dazzling gleam:
He bow'd his head and he slept and snor'd,
And he dream'd a fearful dream.
Far, carried away on the wings of Sleep,
His spirit was onward borne,
Till he saw vast holiday crowds in Chepe
On a ninth November morn.
Guns were booming and bells ding-dong'd,
Ethiop minstrels play'd;
And still, wherever the burghers throng'd,
Brisk jongleurs drove their trade.
Scarlet Sheriffs, the City's pride,
With a portly presence fill'd
The whole of the courtyard just outside
The hall of their ancient Guild.
And in front of the central gateway there,
A marvellous chariot roll'd,
(Like gingerbread at a country fair
'Twas cover'd with blazing gold).
And a being, array'd in pomp and pride
Was brought to the big stone gate;
And they begg'd that being to mount and ride
In that elegant coach of state.
But, oh! he was fat, so ghastly fat,
Was that being of pomp and pride,
That, in spite of many attempts thereat,
He _couldn't_ be pushed inside.
That being was press'd, but press'd in vain,
Till the drops bedew'd his cheek;
The gilded vehicle rock'd again,
And the springs began to creak.
The slumbering alderman groan'd a groan,
For a vision he seem'd to trace,
Some horrible semblance to _his own_
In that being's purple face.
And, "Oh!" he cried, as he started up;
"Sooner than come to _that_,
Farewell for ever the baneful cup
And the noxious turtle fat!"--
They carried him up the winding-stair;
They laid him upon the bed;
And they left him, sleeping the sleep of care,
With an ache in his nightcapp'd head.
(_By permission of_ MESSRS. CHATTO & WINDUS.)
THE DEMON SNUFFERS.
GEO. MANVILLE FENN.
I'm not at all given to parading my troubles--nothing of the kind. I may
be getting old, in fact, I am; and I may have had disappointments such
as have left me slightly irritable and peevish; but I ask, as a man, who
wouldn't be troubled in his nerves if he had suffered from snuffers?
Snuffers? Yes--snuffers--a pair of cheap, black, iron snuffers, that
screech when they are opened, and creak when they are shut; a pair that
will not stay open, nor yet keep shut; a pair that gape at you
incessantly, and point at you a horrid sharp iron beak, as a couple of
leering eyes turn the finger and thumb holes into a pair of spectacles,
and squint and wink at you maliciously. A word in your ear--this in a
whisper--those snuffers are haunted! their insignificant iron frame is
the habitation of a demon--an imp of darkness; and I've been troubled
till I've got snuffers on the brain, and I shall have them till I'm
snuffed out.
It has been going on now for a couple of years, ever since my landlady
sent the snuffers up to me first in my shiney crockery-ware candlestick,
where those snuffers glide about like a snake in a tin pail. I remember
the first night as well as can be. It was in November--a weird, wet,
foggy night, when the river-side streets were wrapped in a yellow
blanket of fog--and I was going to bed, when, at my first touch of the
candlestick, those snuffers glided off with an angry snap, and lay,
open-mouthed, glaring at me from the floor.
I was somewhat startled, certainly, but far from alarmed; and I seized
the fugitives and replaced them in the candlestick, opened the door, and
ascended the stairs.
Mind, I am only recording facts untinged by the pen of romance! Before I
had ascended four steps, those hideous snuffers darted off, and plunged,
point downwards, on to my left slippered foot, causing me an agonising
pang, and the next moment a bead of starting blood stained my stocking.
I will not declare this, but I believe it to be a fact: as I said
something oathish, I am nearly certain that I heard a low, fiendish
chuckle; and when I stooped to lift the snuffers, there was a bright
spark in the open mouth, and a pungent blue smoke breathed out to annoy
my nostrils!
I was too bold in those days to take much notice of the incident, and I
hurried upstairs--not, however, without seeing that there was a foul,
black patch left upon my holland stair-cloth; and then I hurried into
bed, and tried to sleep. But I could not, try as I would. In the
darkness I could just make out the candlestick against the blind: and
from that point incessantly the demon snuffers gradually approached me,
till they sat spectacle-wise astride my nose, and a pair of burning eyes
gazed through them right into mine.
Need I say that I arose next morning feverish and unrefreshed to go
about my daily duties?
"I'll have no more of it to-night," I said to myself, as I rose early to
go to bed and make up for the past bad night; and I smiled sardonically
as I took up the highly-glazed candlestick and tried to shake the black,
straddling reptile out upon the sideboard. I say _tried_; for, to my
horror, the great eyeholes leered at me as they hugged round the upright
portion of the stick and refused to be dislodged. I shook them again,
and one part went round the extinguisher support, which the reptile
dislodged, so that the extinguisher rattled upon the sideboard top. But
the snuffers were there still. I tried again, and they, or it, dodged
round and thrust a head through the handle, where they stuck fast,
grinning at me till I set the candlestick down and stared.
"Pooh!--stuff!--ridiculous!" I exclaimed, quite angry at my weak,
imaginative folly; and, determined to act like a man, I seized the
candlestick with one hand, the snuffers with the other, and, after a
hard fight, succeeded in wriggling them out of their stronghold, banged
them down upon the table cloth, seized them again, snuffed my candle
viciously before replacing them on the table, and then marched out of
the room, proud of my moral triumph, and rejoicing in having freed
myself of the demon. But, as I stood upon the stairs, I could see that
my hand was blackened; and the icy, galvanic feeling that assailed my
nerves when I first touched the snuffers still tingled right to my
elbow.
But I was free of my enemy; and marching with freely playing lungs into
my bedroom, I closed and locked the door, set down my empty candlestick,
changed my coat and vest for a dressing-gown and began to brush my hair.
It is my custom to brush my hair with a pair of brushes for ten minutes
every night before retiring to rest. I find it strengthening to the
brain. Upon this occasion I had brushed hard for five minutes, when
there was a loud knock at my bed-room door.
"Can I speak to you a moment, sir?" said the voice of my landlady.
I rose and opened the door, and then started back in disgust, as I was
greeted with--
"Please, sir, you forgot your snuffers!"
My snuffers! It was too horrible; but there was more to bear.
"And please, sir, I do hope you'll be more careful. It's a mussy we
warn't all burnt to death in our beds, for the snuffers have made a
great hole as big as your hand in the tablecloth, and scorched the
mahogany table; and it was a mussy I went into your room before I went
up to bed."
I couldn't speak, for I was drawn irresistibly on to obey, as my
landlady held the snuffers-handle towards me, and pointed to the fungus
snuff upon the common candle. I thrust in a finger and thumb, closed the
door in desperation--for I could not refuse the snuffers--once more
locked myself in, and stalked to the dressing-table; and, as I heard my
landlady's retreating steps, I snuffed the candle, which started up
instantly with a brighter flame, as the snuffers' mouth closed upon the
incandescent wick.
"I'm slightly nervous," I said to myself, as I essayed to put down my
enemies. "I want tone--iron--iodine--tonic bitters--and--curse the
thing!" I ejaculated, shaking my hand and trying to dislodge the
snuffers. My efforts were but vain, for the rings clung tightly to my
finger and thumb, cut into my flesh, and it was not until I had given
them a frantic wrench, which broke the rivet and separated the halves,
that I was able to tear out my bruised digits, and stand, panting, at
the broken instrument.
There was relief, though, here. I felt as if I had crushed out the
reptile's life; and the two pieces--their living identity gone--lay
nerveless, and devoid of terrors, in the candle tray.
I slept excellently that night, and smiled as I dressed beside the
broken fragments. I had achieved a victory over self, as well as over an
enemy. I enjoyed my breakfast, after raising the white cloth to look at
the damage, which I knew would appear as twenty shillings in the weekly
bill; but I did not care, though I shuddered slightly as I thought of
the snuffers' horrible designs. I dined that day with friends, played a
few games afterwards at pool, and then we had oysters.
I was in the best of spirits as I opened the door with my latchkey, and
I laughed heartily at what I called my folly of the previous nights;
but, as I entered my room, there was the great black hole in the green
cloth table cover, and the charred wood beneath, while, upon the
sideboard----
I groaned as I stood, half transfixed. I could have imagined that I had
on divers leaden-soled boots; for there, maliciously grinning at me with
half-opened mouth, were the demon snuffers, joined together by a new,
glistening rivet, which only added to their weird appearance, as the
beak cocked itself at me, and the great eyes glared, as the black mouth
seemed to say--
"You'll never get rid of me!"
Something seemed to draw me, and I went and took the candlestick, my
eyes being fixed the while upon the snuffers; and I came in contact with
several pieces of furniture as I went into the passage, where I held the
candlestick very much on one side as I lit the candle at the little
lamp. I hoped that the snuffers would fall out; but they grinned
maliciously, and did not stir.
The next moment I was obliged to use them, for the candle began to
gutter; when, as nothing followed, I grew bolder, and began to ascend
the stairs. In a minute, though before I was half way up the second
flight, and though the candlestick was carried perfectly
straight--crash! the demon snuffers darted out, and dashed themselves
upon the floor.
I did not stay to look, but hurried to my bed-room, closing and locking
the door.
"Safe this time!" I thought; for it was late, and I knew that my
landlady must have been long in bed. Then I began to think of how they
had hopped out of the candlestick, and I remembered what they had done
on the previous night--how they had tried to set fire to the house.
Suppose they should do so now? The cold perspiration trickled down my
nose at the very thought. I dared not leave the demon, or twin
demons--the horrid Siamese pair.
I would, though--I was safe here. But, fire! Suppose they set the house
on fire?
Down I went in the dark--very softly, too, lest I should alarm the
landlady and the other lodgers; but, though the odour was strong, I went
right to the bottom, and stood upon the door-mat without finding my
enemies.
I stood and thought for a few minutes, and then began slowly to ascend,
feeling carefully all over every step as I went up to my bed-room, where
I arrived, without ever my hand coming in contact with that which I
sought.
"I'll go to bed and leave them!" I ejaculated, and I turned upon my
heel; but, at that moment, the pungent burning odour came up stronger
than ever, and I was compelled to descend, to find that the demon twins
had been lying in ambush half-way down, so that I trod upon them,
tripped, in my terror my foot glided, over them, and I fell with a crash
into the umbrella stand, which I upset with a hideous noise upon the
oilcloth--not so loud, though, but that I could hear the little black
imps take three or four grasshopper leaps along the passage, ending by
sticking the pointed beak into the street door.
Before I could gather myself up, I heard doors opening upstairs, and
screaming from the girls below who slept in the kitchen; and the next
minute old Major O'Brien's voice came roaring down--
"An' if ye shtir a shtep I'll blow out yer brains!"
Of course I had to explain; and I had the horrible knowledge that they
gave me the credit of being intoxicated--the Major saying he would not
stop in a house where people went prowling about at all hours, ending by
himself, at the landlady's request, examining the door to see if it was
latched securely, and then seeing me safely to my room.
"An' if I did me duty, sor, I should lock you in," he said by way of
good night. "And now get into bed, sor, and at once; and--here are your
snuffers!"