Close to the residence of Solomon Flint there was a small outhouse or
shed, which formed part of the letter-carrier's domain, but was too
small to be sub-let as a dwelling, and too inconveniently situated in a
back court to be used as an apartment. It was therefore devoted to the
reception of lumber. But Solomon, not being a rich man, did not possess
much lumber. The shed was therefore comparatively empty.
When Philip Maylands came to reside with Solomon, he was allowed to use
this shed as a workroom.
Phil was by nature a universal genius--a Jack-of-all-trades--and formed
an exception to that rule about being master of none, which is asserted,
though not proved, by the proverb, for he became master of more than one
trade in the course of his career. Solomon owned a few tools, so that
carpentry was naturally his first attempt, and he very soon became
proficient in that. Then, having discovered an old clock among the
lumber of the shed, he took to examining and cleaning its interior of an
evening after his work at the Post-Office was done. As his mechanical
powers developed, his genius for invention expanded, and soon he left
the beaten tracks of knowledge and wandered into the less trodden
regions of fancy.
In all this Phil had an admirer and sympathiser in his sister May; but
May's engagements, both in and out of the sphere of her telegraphic
labours, were numerous, so that the boy would have had to pursue his
labours in solitude if it had not been for his friend Peter Pax, whose
admiration for him knew no bounds, and who, if he could, would have
followed Phil like his shadow. As often as the little fellow could
manage to do so, he visited his friend in the shed, which they named
Pegaway Hall. There he sometimes assisted Phil, but more frequently
held him in conversation, and commented in a free and easy way on his
work,--for his admiration of Phil was not sufficient to restrain his
innate insolence.
One evening Phil Maylands was seated at his table, busy with the works
of an old watch. Little Pax sat on the table swinging his legs. He had
brought a pipe with him, and would have smoked, but Phil sternly forbade
it.
"It's bad enough for men to fumigate their mouths," he said, with a
smile on his lip and a frown in his eye, "but when I see a thing like
you trying to make yourself look manly by smoking, I can't help thinking
of a monkey putting on the boots and helmet of a Guardsman. The boots
and helmet look grand, no doubt, but that makes the monkey seem all the
more ridiculous. Your pipe suggests manhood, Pax, but you look much
more like a monkey than a man when it's in your mouth."
"How severe you are to-night, Phil!" returned Pax, putting the pipe,
however, in his pocket; "where did you graduate, now--at Cambridge or
Oxford? Because w'en my eldest boy is big enough I'd like to send 'im
w'ere he'd acquire sitch an amazin' flow of eloquence."
Phil continued to rub the works of the watch, but made no reply.
"I say, Phil," observed the little fellow, after a thoughtful pause.
"Well?"
"Don't it strike you, sometimes, that this is a queer sort of world?"
"Yes, I've often thought that, and it has struck me, too, that you are
one of the queerest fish in it."
"Come, Phil, don't be cheeky. I'm in a sedate frame of mind to-night,
an' want to have a talk in a philosophical sort o' way of things in
general."
"Well, Pax, go ahead. I happen to have been reading a good deal about
things in general of late, so perhaps between us we may grind something
out of a talk."
"Just so; them's my ideas precisely. There's nothin'," said Pax,
thrusting both hands deeper into his trousers pockets, and swinging his
legs more vigorously--"nothin' like a free an' easy chat for developin'
the mental powers. But I say, what a fellow you are for goin' ahead!
Seems to me that you're always either workin' at queer contrivances or
readin'."
"You forget, Pax, that I sometimes carry telegraphic messages."
"Ha! true, then you and I are bound together by the cords of a common
dooty--p'r'aps I should say an uncommon dooty, all things considered."
"Among other things," returned Phil, "I have found out by reading that
there are two kinds of men in the world, the men who push and strive and
strike out new ideas, and the men who jog along easy, on the
let-be-for-let-be principle, and who grow very much like cabbages."
"You're right there, Phil--an' yet cabbages ain't bad vegetables in
their way," remarked Pax, with a contemplative cast of his eyes to the
ceiling.
"Well," continued Phil gravely, "I shouldn't like to be a cabbage."
"W'ich means," said the other, "that you'd rather be one o' the fellows
who push an' strive an strike out noo ideas."
Phil admitted that such were his thoughts and aspirations.
"Now, Pax," he said, laying down the tool with which he had been
working, and looking earnestly into his little friend's face, "something
has been simmering in my mind for a considerable time past."
"You'd better let it out then, Phil, for fear it should bu'st you,"
suggested Pax.
"Come, now, stop chaffing for a little and listen, because I want your
help," said Phil.
There was something in Phil's look and manner when he was in earnest
which effectually quelled the levity of his little admirer. The appeal
to him for aid, also, had a sedative effect. As Phil went on, Pax
became quite as serious as himself. This power of Pax to suddenly
discard levity, and become interested, was indeed one of the qualities
which rendered him powerfully attractive to his friend.
"The fact is," continued Phil, "I have set my heart on forming a
literary association among the telegraph-boys."
"A what?"
"A literary association. That is, an association of those boys among us
who want to read, and study: and discuss, and become knowing and wise."
The daring aspirations suggested by this proposition were too much for
little Pax. He remained silent--open mouthed and eyed--while Phil went
on quietly to expound his plans.
"There is a capital library, as you know, at the Post-Office, which is
free to all of us, though many of us make little use of it--more's the
pity,--so that we don't require a library of our own, though we may come
to that, too, some day, who knows? Sure it wouldn't be the first time
that great things had come out of small beginnings, if all I have read
be true. But it's not only books we would be after. What we want, Pax,
is to be organised--made a body of. When we've got that done we shall
soon put soul into the body,--what with debates, an' readings, an'
lectures, an' maybe a soiree now and then, with music and speeches, to
say nothing of tea an' cakes."
As Phil Maylands warmed with his subject his friend became excited. He
ceased to chaff and raise objections, and finally began to see the
matter through Phil's rose-coloured glasses.
"Capital," he exclaimed heartily. "It'll do, Phil. It'll work--like
everything else you put your hand to. But"--here his chubby little
visage elongated--"how about funds? Nothin' in this world gets along
without funds; an' then we've no place to meet in."
"We must content ourselves with funds of humour to begin with," returned
Phil, resuming his work on the watch. "As for a meeting-room, wouldn't
this do? Pegaway Hall is not a bad place, and quite enough room in it
when the lumber's cleared out o' the way. Then, as to members, we would
only admit those who showed a strong desire to join us."
"Just so--who showed literary tastes, like you an' me," suggested Pax.
"Exactly so," said Phil, "for, you see, I don't want to have our society
flourished about in the eyes of people as a public Post-Office affair.
We must make it private and very select."
"Yes, _uncommon_ select," echoed Pax.
"It would never do, you know," continued the other, "to let in every
shallow young snipe that wanted to have a lark, and make game of the
affair. We will make our rules very stringent."
"Of course," murmured Pax, with a solemn look, "_tremendously_
stringent. For first offences of any kind--a sousin' with dirty water.
For second offences--a woppin' and a fine. For third--dismissal, with
ears and noses chopped off, or such other mutilation as a committee of
the house may invent. But, Phil, who d'yee think would be suitable men
to make members of?"
"Well, let me see," said Phil, again laying down his tools, and looking
at the floor with a thoughtful air, "there's Long Poker, he's a
long-legged, good-hearted fellow--fond o' the newspapers."
"Yes," put in Pax, "Poker'll do for one. He'd be a capital member.
Long and thin as a literary c'racter ought to be, and pliable too. We
could make a'most anything of him, except a fire-screen or a tablecloth.
Then there's Big Jack--he's got strong sedate habits."
"Too fond of punning," objected Phil.
"A little punishment in the mutilation way would stop that," said Pax.
"And there's Jim Brown," rejoined Phil. "He's a steady, enthusiastic
fellow; and little Grigs, he's about as impudent as yourself, Pax.
Strange, isn't it, that it's chiefly little fellows who are impudent?"
"Wouldn't it be strange if it were otherwise?" retorted Pax, with an
injured look. "As we can't knock people down with our fists, aren't we
justified in knockin' 'em down with our tongues?"
"Then," continued Phil, "there's George Granger and Macnab--"
"Ah! ain't he the boy for argufyin' too?" interrupted Pax, "and he'll
meet his match in Sandy Tod. And there's Tom Blunter--"
"And Jim Scroggins--"
"An' Limp Letherby--"
"An' Fat Collins--"
"An' Bobby Sprat. Oh!" exclaimed Pax, with a glowing countenance,
"we've got lots o' first-rate men among the message-boys, though there
_are_ some uncommon bad 'uns. But we'll have none except true-blues in
_our_ literary association."
The society thus planned was soon called into being, for Philip Maylands
was one of those determined characters who carry their plans into
execution with vigour and despatch. His first move was to seek counsel
of Mr Sterling, a city missionary--the same who had directed George
Aspel to the abode of Abel Bones on the night of that youth's visit to
Archangel Court,--with whom he had become acquainted on one of his
visits to Miss Lillycrop. That good lady was a staunch ally and able
assistant of many city missionaries, and did much service in the way of
bringing them into acquaintance with people who she thought might be
helpful to them, or get help from them. A mutual liking had sprung up
between Mr Antony Sterling and Phil on that occasion, which had ripened
into friendship.
"You'll help us at our first meeting, won't you?" asked Phil, after they
had talked the matter over.
"Yes, if you wish it," replied Mr Sterling. "But I won't come at the
beginning. I'll drop in towards the close, and won't say much. You'd
best begin the work by yourselves. I'll come to your aid whenever you
seem to require it. But have a care how you start, Phil. Whatever the
other members may do, remember that you, as the originator of the
association, are bound to lay the foundations with the blessing of God."
Phil did not neglect this all-important point, and, having obtained
permission from Solomon Flint to use the shed, the society was soon
auspiciously commenced with a lively debate, in Pegaway Hall, as to the
best method of conducting its own affairs. On this occasion Philip
Maylands proved himself to be an able organiser. Long Poker showed that
he had not dabbled in newspapers without fishing up and retaining a vast
amount of miscellaneous knowledge. Jim Brown roused the meeting to a
pitch of enthusiasm almost equal to his own. Little Grigs made stinging
remarks all round, and chaffed little Pax with evident delight. Macnab
disputed with everybody. Sandy Tod argued and objected more or less to
everything, while Tom Blunter, Jim Scroggins, Limp Letherby, Fat
Collins, and Bobby Sprat, lent more or less effectual fire to the
debate. Big Jack did not speak much. He preferred, as he said, to form
a large audience, but, if he might be permitted to offer an opinion,
would suggest that less talk and more action might facilitate the
despatch of business, and that they ought to try to emulate the House of
Commons by allowing a little common sense to mingle with their
discussions.
As for Peter Pax, he assumed the _role_ of peacemaker-general. When the
debaters seemed to be getting too warm, he rose to order; and, in a calm
dignified manner, commented on the conduct of the disputants with such
ineffable insolence as to draw down their wrath on his devoted head--to
the great delight of the other members. Thus he threw oil on the
troubled waters, and, generally, kept the meeting lively.
Finally, the laws of the Pegaway Literary Association were fixed, the
plan of meetings was arranged, and the whole thing fairly started.
The society worked well for a time, but after the various members had
done their best, as Pax said, to keep the pot boiling, it was felt and
suggested that they should seek a little aid from without. A reading or
a lecture was proposed, seconded, and carried. Then came the question
who should be asked to read or lecture. Macnab proposed that their
chairman should endeavour to procure a lecturer, and report to next
meeting. Sandy Tod objected, and proposed a committee to consider the
subject. Phil Maylands said he had anticipated the demand, and had
already secured the promise of a lecturer--if the members chose to
accept him.
"Name! name!" cried several voices.
"Our excellent landlord, Solomon Flint," said Phil. "You all know his
admirable powers of memory, and his profound knowledge of men and things
(`At least if you don't, you ought to,' from Pax), and you may be sure
he'll give us something good."
"And proverbial," added little Grigs.
"Ay, Flint will certainly strike fire out of whatever he tackles," said
Big Jack.
("Order!" from Pax.)
"When is he to give it?" asked one.
"Won't fix the time just yet," said Phil.
"What's his subject?" asked another.
"Can't say; not yet decided."
With this uncertainty as to time and subject the association was obliged
to rest content, and thereafter the meeting was dissolved.
We are grieved to be obliged to state that the society thus hopefully
commenced came to a premature close at an early period of its career,
owing to circumstances over which its members had no control.
Some time before that sad event occurred, however, Solomon Flint
delivered his discourse, and as some of the events of that memorable
evening had special bearing on the issues of our tale, we shall recur to
it in a succeeding chapter.