EBENEZER SHYCOCK.
In pursuance of the arrangements which Mr. Blarden had, on the evening
before, announced to his intended victim, Gordon Chancey was despatched
early the next morning to engage the services of a clergyman for the
occasion. He knew pretty well how to choose his man, and for the most
part, when a plot was to be executed, in theatrical phrase, _cast_ the
parts well. He proceeded leisurely to the city, and sauntering through
the streets, found himself at length in Saint Patrick's Close; beneath
the shadow of the old Cathedral he turned down a narrow and deserted
lane and stopped before a dingy, miserable little shop, over whose
doorway hung a panel with the dusky and faded similitude of two great
keys crossed, now scarcely discernible through the ancient dust and
soot. The shop itself was a chaotic depository of old locks, holdfasts,
chisels, crowbars, and in short, of rusty iron in almost every
conceivable shape. Chancey entered this dusky shop, and accosting a
very grimed and rusty-looking little boy who was, with a file,
industriously employed in converting a kitchen candlestick into a
cannon, inquired,--
"I say, my good boy, does the Reverend Doctor Ebenezer Shycock stop
here yet?"
"Aye, does he," said the youth, inspecting the visitor with a broad and
leisurely stare, while he wiped his forehead with his shirt sleeve.
"Up the stairs, is it?" demanded Chancey.
"Aye, the garrets," replied the boy. "And mind the hole in the top
lobby," he shouted after him, as he passed through the little door in
the back of the shop and began to ascend the narrow stairs.
He did "mind the hole in the top lobby" (a very necessary caution, by
the way, as he might otherwise have been easily engulfed therein and
broken either his neck or his leg, after descending through the lath
and plaster, upon the floor of the landing-place underneath); and
having thus safely reached the garret door, he knocked thereupon with
his knuckles.
"Come in," answered a female voice, not of the most musical quality,
and Chancey accordingly entered. A dirty, sluttish woman was sitting by
the window, knitting, and as it seemed, she was the only inmate of the
room.
"Is the Reverend Ebenezer at home, my dear?" inquired the barrister.
"He is, and he isn't," rejoined the female, oracularly.
"How's that, my good girl?" inquired Chancey.
"He's in the house, but he's not good for much," answered she.
"Has he been throwing up the little finger, my dear?" said Chancey, "he
used to be rayther partial to brandy."
"Brandy--brandy--who says brandy?" exclaimed a voice briskly from
behind a sheet which hung upon a string so as to screen off one corner
of the chamber.
"Ay, ay, that's the word that'll waken you," said the woman. "Here's a
gentleman wants to speak with you."
"The devil there is!" exclaimed the clerical worthy, abruptly, while
with a sudden chuck he dislodged the sheet which had veiled his
presence, and disclosed, by so doing, the form of a stout, short,
bull-necked man, with a mulberry-coloured face and twinkling grey
eyes--one of them in deep mourning. He wore a greasy red night-cap and
a very tattered and sad-coloured shirt, and was sitting upright in a
miserable bed, the covering of which appeared to be a piece of ancient
carpet. With one hand he scratched his head, while in the other he held
the sheet which he had just pulled down.
"How are you, Parson Shycock?" said Chancey; "how do you find yourself
this morning, doctor?"
"Tolerably well. But what is it you want with me? out with it, spooney.
Any job in my line, eh?" inquired the clergyman.
"Yes, indeed, doctor," replied Chancey, "and a very good job; you're
wanted to marry a gentleman and a lady privately, not a mile and a half
out of town, this evening; you'll get five guineas for the job, and I
think that's no trifle."
The parson mused, and scratched his head again.
"Well," said he, "you must do a little job for me first. You can't be
ignorant that we members of the Church militant are often hard up; and
whenever I'm in a fix I pop wig, breeches, and gown, and take to my
bed; you'll find the three articles in this lane, corner house--sign,
three golden balls; present this docket--where the devil is it? ay,
here; all right--present this along with two guineas, paid in advance
on account of job: bring me the articles, and I'll get up and go along
with you in a brace of shakes. And stay; didn't I hear some one talking
of brandy? or--or was I dreaming? You may as well get in a half-pint,
for I'm never the thing till I have some little moderate refreshment;
so, dearly beloved, mizzle at once."
"Dear me, dear me, doctor," said Chancey, "how can you think I'd go for
to bring two guineas along with me?"
"If you haven't the _rhino_, this is no place for you, my fellow-sinner,"
rejoined the couple-beggar; "and if you _have_, off with you and
deliver the togs out of pop. You wouldn't have a clergyman walk the
streets without breeches, eh, dearly beloved cove?"
"Well, well, but you're a wonderful man," rejoined Chancey, with a
faint smile. "I suppose, then, I must do it; so give me the docket, and
I'll be here again as soon as I can."
"And do you mind me, you stray sheep, you, don't forget the lush,"
added the pastor. "I'm very desirous to wet my whistle; my mums, by the
hokey, is as dry as a Dutch brick. Good-bye to you, and do you mind, be
back here in the twinkling of a brace of bed-posts."
With this injunction, and bearing the crumpled document, which the
reverend divine had given him, as his credentials with the pawnbroker,
Mr. Chancey cautiously lounged down the crazy stairs.
"I say, my nutty Nancy," observed the parson, after a long yawn and a
stretch, addressing the female who sat at the window, "that chap's made
of money. I had a pint with him once in Clarke's public--round the
corner there. His name's Chancey, and he does half the bills in town--a
regular Jew chap."
So saying, the Reverend Ebenezer Shycock, LL.D., unceremoniously rolled
himself out of bed and hobbled to a crazy deal box, in which were
deposited such articles of attire as had not been transmitted to the
obliging proprietor of the neighbouring three golden balls.
While the reverend divine was kneeling before this box, and, with a
tenderness suited to their frail condition, removing the few scanty
articles of his wardrobe and laying them reverently upon a crazy stool
beside him, Mr. Chancey returned, bearing the liberated decorations of
the doctor's person, as also a small black bottle.
"Oh, dear me, doctor," said Chancey, "but I'm glad to see you're
stirring. Here's the things."
"And the--the lush, eh?" inquired the clergyman, peering inquisitively
round Chancey's side to have a peep at the bottle.
"Yes, and the lush too," said the barrister.
"Well, give me the breeches," said the doctor, with alacrity, clutching
those essential articles and proceeding to invest his limbs therein.
"And, Nancy, a sup of water and a brace of cups."
A cracked mug and a battered pewter goblet made their appearance, and,
along with the ruin of a teapot which contained the pure element, were
deposited on a chair--for tables were singularly scarce in the reverend
doctor's establishment.
"Now, my beloved fellow-sinner, mix like a Trojan!" exclaimed the
divine; "and take care, take care, pogey aqua, don't drown it with
water; chise it, _chise_ it, man, that'll do."
With these words he grasped the vessel, nodded to Chancey, and
directing his two grey eyes with a greedy squint upon the liquor as it
approached his lips, he quaffed it at a single draught.
Without waiting for an invitation, which Chancey thought his clerical
acquaintance might possibly forget, the barrister mingled some of the
same beverage for his own private use, and quietly gulped it down;
seeing which, and dreading Mr. Chancey's powers, which he remembered to
have already seen tested at "Clarke's public," the learned divine
abstractedly inverted the brandy bottle into his pewter goblet, and
shedding upon it an almost imperceptible dew from the dilapidated
teapot, he terminated the _symposium_ and proceeded to finish his
toilet.
This was quickly done, and Mr. Gordon Chancey and the Reverend Ebenezer
Shycock--two illustrious and singularly well-matched ornaments of their
respective professions--proceeded arm in arm, both redolent of grog, to
the nearest coach stand, where they forthwith supplied themselves with
a vehicle; and while Mr. Chancey pretty fully instructed his reverend
companion in the precise nature of the service required of him, and, as
far as was necessary, communicated the circumstances of the whole case,
they traversed the interval which separated Dublin city from the manor
of Morley Court.