LORD JOLLY IS SATISFIED
Ah, why should two, who once were bosom's friends,
Present at one another pistol ends?
Till one pops off to dwell in Death's Abode--
All on account of Honour's so-called code!
_Thoughts on Duelling, by H. B. J._
Many a more hackneyed duellist than our unfortunate friend Bhosh might
well have been frightened from his propriety at the prospect of fighting
with genuine bullets across so undersized a nosekerchief as that which
the Duchess had furnished for the fray.
But Mr Bhosh preserved his head in perfect coolness: "It is indisputably
true," he said, "that I proposed to shoot across a pocketkerchief--but I
am not an effeminate female that I should employ such a lacelike and
flimsy concern as this! As a challenged, I claim my constitutional
right under Magna Charta to provide my own nosewipe."
And, as even my Lord Jack admitted that this was legally correct, Mr
Bhosh produced a very large handsome nosekerchief in parti-coloured
silks.
This he tore into narrow strips, the ends of which he tied together in
such a manner that the whole was elongated to an incredible length.
Then, tossing one extremity to his lordship, and retaining the other in
his own hand, he said: "We will fight, if you please, across this--or
not at all!"
Which caused a working majority of the company, and even Lord Jack Jolly
himself, to burst into enthusiastic plaudits of the ingenuity and
dexterity with which Mr Bhosh had contrived to extricate himself from
the prongs of his Caudine fork.
The Duchess, however, was knitting her brows into the baleful pattern of
a scowl--for she knew as well as Chunder Bindabun himself that no human
pistol was capable to achieve such a distance! The duel commenced.
His lordship and Mr Bhosh each removed their upper clothings, bared
their arms, and, taking up a weapon, awaited the momentous command to
fire.
[Illustration: THE BULLET HAD PERFORATED A LARGE CIRCULAR ORIFICE IN
HONBLE BODGER'S HAT (Illustration IV)]
It was pronounced, and Lord Jolly's pistol was the first to ring the
ambient welkin with its horrid bang. The deadly missile, whistling as it
went for want of thought, entered the door of a neighbouring pigeon's
house and fluttered the dovecot confoundedly.
Mr Bhosh reserved his fire for the duration of two or three harrowing
seconds. Then he, too, pulled off his trigger, and after the explosion
there was a loud cry of dismay.
The bullet had perforated a large circular orifice in Honble Bodger's
hat, who, by this time, had returned to self-consciousness!
"I could not bring myself to snuff the candle of your honble lordship's
existence," said Mr Bhosh, bowing, "but I wished to convince all present
that I am not incompetent to hit a mark."
And he proceeded to assure Mr Bodger that he was to receive full
compensation for any moral and intellectual damage done to his said hat.
As for his lordship, he was so overcome by Mr Bhosh's unprecedented
magnanimity that he shed copious tears, and, warmly embracing his former
friend, entreated his forgiveness, vowing that in future their affection
should never again be endangered by so paltry and trivial a cause as the
ficklety of a feminine. Moreover, he bestowed upon Bindabun the blushing
hand of Princess Jones, and very heartily wished him joy of her.
Now the Princess was the solitary brat of a very wealthy merchant
prince, Honble Sir Monarch Jones, whose proud and palatial storehouses
were situated in the most fashionable part of Camden Town.
Sir Jones, in spite of Lord Jack's resignation, did not at first regard
Mr Bhosh with the paternal eye of approval, but rather advanced the
objection that the colour of his money was practically invisible. "My
daughter," he said haughtily, "is to have a lakh of rupees on her
nuptials. Have _you_ a lakh of rupees?"
Bindabun was tempted to make the rather facetious reply that he had,
indeed, a lack of rupees at the present moment.
Sir Monarch, however, like too many English gentlemen, was totally
incapable of comprehending the simplest Indian _jeu des mots_, and
merely replied. "Unless you can _show_ me your lakh of rupees, you
cannot become my beloved son-in-law."
So, as Mr Bhosh was a confirmed impecunious, he departed in severe
despondency. However, fortune favoured him, as always, for he made the
acquaintance of a certain Jewish-Scotch, whose cognomen was Alexander
Wallace McAlpine, and who kindly undertook to lend him a lakh of rupees
for two days at interest which was the mere bite of a flea.
Having thus acquired the root of all evil, Bindabun took it in a
four-wheeled cab and triumphantly exhibited his hard cash to Sir Jones,
who, being unaware that it was borrowed plumage, readily consented that
he should marry his daughter. After which Mr Bhosh honourably restored
the lakh to the accommodating Scotch minus the interest, which he found
it inconvenient to pay just then.
I am under great apprehensions that my gentle readers, on reading thus
far and no further, will remark: "Oho! then we are already at the
_finis_, seeing that when a hero and heroine are once booked for
connubial bliss, their further proceedings are of very mediocre
interest!"
Let me venture upon the respectful caution that every cup possesses a
proverbially slippery lip, and that they are by no means to take it as
granted that Mr Bhosh is so soon married and done for.
Remember that he still possesses a rather formidable enemy in Duchess
Dickinson, who is irrevocably determined to insert a spike in his wheel
of fortune. For a woman is so constituted that she can never forgive an
individual who has once treated her advances with contempt, no matter
how good-humoured such contempt may have been. No, misters, if you
offend a feminine you must look out for her squalls.
Readers are humbly requested not to toss this fine story aside under the
impression that they have exhausted the cream in its cocoanut. There are
many many incidents to come of highly startling and sensational
character.