Letters of introduction are like lottery-tickets, turning out
sometimes a blank, and sometimes a prize, just as accident directs.
It has frequently happened, however, that those presented at the
wrong address have been the most fortunate. We know of at least one
instance in which a gentleman came by a wife in consequence of a
blunder of this kind; and another occurred recently in the place in
which we write, 'killing two birds with one stone'--that is, the
letter-bearer making two acquaintances instead of one--by a series
of odd and perplexing _contre-temps_.
The missive in question was given to an English gentleman in
London, who was about to indulge his wife and himself with a trip
to Edinburgh. The writer was the brother-in-law of the individual
to whom it was addressed--Mr Archibald; and the fortunate possessor
was a certain Mr Smith, of the Smiths of Middlesex.
Soon after Mr Smith reached Edinburgh, where he had not a single
acquaintance, he set out to deliver his letter of introduction. He
found his way to Drummond Place easily enough, and then inquired
for the street he was in search of--Duncan Street; but the native
he applied to could not well make out his southron tongue, and
directed him instead to Dublin Street, which all men know is at
the opposite angle of the Place. When our letter-bearer reached
his number, he was surprised to find, instead of the respectable
'main-door' he had been taught to expect--a green-grocer's shop. He
was puzzled: but after comparing carefully the number of the house
and of the note, he concluded that his London friend had made a
mistake; and in this idea he was confirmed by the green-grocer, to
whom he applied.
'Hoot, sir,' said the man of cabbages, 'it's nae mistake to speak
o'--it's just ae side of the street for the ither;' and pointing
to a house almost immediately opposite, he informed him that
there Mr Archibald resided. Mr Smith crossed over to the number
indicated, and finding no knocker--for we do not like noise in
Edinburgh--pulled the bell.
'Is Mr Archibald at home?' demanded he of the serving-maiden who
came to the door.
'Yes, sir.'
'Can I see him?'
'He's no in, sir.'
'No in! Will you direct me to his office?'
'He has nae office.'
'No! What does he do? Where does he go?'
'He aye gangs to the kirk.'
'To the kirk! What is he?'
'He's a minister.'
Mr Smith was puzzled again. He had a strong impression that his
man was a merchant--nay, he had even some floating idea that he
was a wine-merchant: but still--here were the street and the name,
and not a particularly common name--a conjunction which formed a
stubborn fact. He asked if he could see Mrs Archibald, and was at
once shown into that lady's presence. Mrs Archibald received him
with the ease and politeness of one accustomed to the visits of
strangers, and on being told that he had a letter of introduction
for her husband, entered freely into conversation.
'I saw Mr Archibald's last communication to my friend in London,'
said Mr Smith, determined to feel his way: 'it was on the subject
of schools.'
'That is a subject in which Mr Archibald is much interested, and so
likewise am I.'
'He mentioned, more especially, Mrs So-and-so's school in George
Street.'
'Doubtless.'
'Then you are more nearly concerned in that school than in any
other.'
'It is natural that we should be so, for our children are there.'
'I thought so!'
There was now no longer any doubt that Mr Smith had hit upon the
right Mr Archibald; and taking the letter of introduction from his
pocket, he handed it to the lady, politely extricating it, before
doing so, from its envelop. Mrs Archibald read the letter calmly,
and then laid it upon the table without remark. This disturbed in
some degree the good opinion the stranger had been rapidly forming
of the lady; and the odd circumstance of her omitting to inquire
after her own nearest blood-relations threw him into a train of
philosophical reflections. Mr Smith--like all the rest of the
Smiths--kept a journal; and a vision of a 'mem.' flitted before
him: 'Curious National Characteristic--Scotch women civil, polite,
kindly--especially clergymen's wives--but calm, cold, reserved;
never by any chance ask strangers about their family, even when
distant hundreds of miles.'
Mr Smith, however, was an agreeable good-humoured man. He spoke
both well and fluently, and Mrs Archibald both listened and talked;
and the end of it was, that they were mutually pleased, and that
when Mr Smith was at length obliged to get up to take his leave,
she invited him, with the simple hospitality of a minister's wife,
to return to tea, to meet her husband. Mr Smith was much obliged,
would be very happy; but--the fact was, his wife was in town with
him. So much the better! Mrs Archibald would be delighted to
be introduced to Mrs Smith; he must do her the favour to waive
ceremony, and bring her in the evening exactly at seven. And so it
was settled.
When the evening came, the weather had changed. It was bitterly
cold; the wind blew as the wind only blows in Edinburgh; and it
rained--to speak technically, it rained dogs and cats! Mr and
Mrs Smith differed in opinion as to the necessity of keeping the
engagement on such an evening. Mrs Smith was decidedly adverse
to the idea of encountering the Scotch elements on a dark, cold,
wet, tempestuous night, and all for the purpose of drinking an
unpremeditated cup of tea. Mr Smith, on the other hand, considered
that an engagement was an engagement; that the Archibalds were
an excellent family to be acquainted with; and that, by keeping
their word, in spite of difficulties, they would set out by
commanding their respect. Mr Smith had the best of the argument;
and he prevailed. A cab was ordered; and shivering and shrinking,
they picked their steps across the _trottoir_, and commenced
their journey. This time, however, Mr Smith's southron tongue was
understood; and he was driven, not to Dublin Street, where he had
been in the morning, but to Duncan Street, where he had desired
to go--although of course he took care to give the coachman the
corrected number this time, as it was not his intention to drink
tea with the green-grocer.
When they arrived at the house, the coachman dismounted and rung
the bell; and Mr Smith, seeing the door open, let down the window
of the coach, although half-choked with the wind and rain that
entered, and prepared to make a rush with his wife across the
tempest-swept _trottoir_.
'Nae Mr Archibald at number so-and-so!' bawled the coachman.
'I say he is there,' cried Mr Smith in a rage: 'the servant has
deceived you--ring again!'
'It's nae use ringing,' said the coachman, speaking against the
storm; 'there's nae Mr Archibald there--I ken mysel!'
'Is it possible that I can have made a mistake in the number? Hark
ye, friend, try somewhere else. I know of my own knowledge that Mr
Archibald is in this street, and you must find him!'--and he shut
down the window exhausted.
It was not difficult to find Mr Archibald, for his house was almost
directly opposite; and the tea-drinkers at length, to their great
satisfaction, found themselves on a landing-place, with an open
door before them.
As Mr Smith paused for an instant on the threshold, he threw a
strange searching glance round the hall, and then, turning to the
servant, asked her if she had actually said that Mr Archibald lived
there? The girl repeated the statement.
'Then come along, my dear,' said he to his wife; 'places look so
different in the gaslight!' And striding through the hall, the
servant in surprise walking backwards before them, they went into
the drawing-room at the further end. The girl had opened the door
of the room for them by the instinct of habit; but no sooner did
she see them seated, than she ran at full speed to her mistress.
'Come ben, mem,' said she; 'come ben, I tell you, this moment!
There are twa strange folks wha ha'e marched in out o' the street
into the very drawing-room, without either with your leave or by
your leave, and sutten themselves doon on the sophy, as if the
house was their ain!' Mrs Archibald got up in surprise, and even
some little trepidation.
'Did they not mention who they were, or what was their pleasure?'
'Not a word, mem: they didna even speer if the maister or you was
at hame, but tramped in the moment they saw the door open.'
Mrs Archibald, who was a newly-married lady, wondered who such
visitors could be on such a night, and wished her husband was at
home; but telling the girl to keep close behind her, she at length
set forth to encounter them.
Mr and Mrs Smith in the meantime were speculating in a low voice,
in the fashion of man and wife, on their adventure.
'This is doubtless the drawing-room, my dear,' said Mr Smith,
looking round: 'it must have been the dining-room I saw in the
forenoon.'
'I wish we saw a fire in the meantime, my dear,' replied Mrs
Smith--'that I do! Do these people think it is not cold enough for
one? And such a night!--wind, rain, and utter darkness! A clergyman
forsooth! and a clergyman's wife!'
'It is a great neglect, I admit--for it is really cold; but we must
consider that the natives of a country are not so sensible of the
rigour of their climate as strangers. Mr and Mrs Archibald, you
know, are Scotch.'
'Yes, Scotch,' said Mrs Smith with a sardonic smile--'excessively
Scotch!' And drawing her shawl over her chin, she sat, looking like
an incarnation of Discomfort, till Mrs Archibald entered the room.
'How do you do, ma'am?' said Mr Smith, getting up and shaking
hands. 'You see I have brought my wife to drink tea with you. My
dear, let me introduce you to Mrs Archibald--Mrs Archibald, Mrs
Smith. The two ladies exchanged bows, the one sulkily, the other
stiffly; and even Mr Smith, though not a particularly observant
man, thought their hostess did not look so pleasant as in the
forenoon.
'How is Mr Archibald?' said he after a pause.
'My husband is pretty well, sir.'
'Not at church again, eh?'
'Sir!' Here Mrs Archibald looked anxiously to the half-open door,
where the girl was waiting concealed in the shadow, in readiness to
reinforce her mistress in case of necessity.
'A very windy, dismal evening--and cold. Don't you find it cold,
ma'am?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Perhaps we have come too soon?'
'Really, sir--I hope you will not think it ill-bred--but I have
been expecting to hear why you have come at all!'
'Mrs Archibald! Is it possible that you have forgotten me already?'
'I must confess you have the advantage of me.'
'You do not remember seeing me this forenoon, when your husband was
at church?'
'I really have no recollection of any such circumstance; nor am I
aware of anything that could take my husband to church to-day.'
'And you cannot call to mind that you asked me to tea, and
intreated me to bring my wife with me?'
'Surely not, since I was ignorant, till a few minutes ago, that
such individuals were in existence.'
'Mrs Archibald! I of course cannot, as a gentleman, refuse to
credit those assertions; but I take leave to tell you that I
by no means admire the _memory_ of the wives of the Scottish
clergy! Come, my dear. Our friend will be surprised to hear of the
hospitable reception obtained for us by his letter of introduction;
although perhaps Mrs Archibald'--and here Mr Smith wheeled round as
he reached the door, and fixed his eye upon the culprit--'although
perhaps Mrs Archibald is not disposed to admit having received
Mr ----'s letter at all!'
'Oh, that is my brother-in-law!' cried Mrs Archibald: 'do you come
from him? How is my dear sister? Pray, sit down!' A few words
sufficed to clear the whole _imbroglio_; and the true Mr Archibald
making his appearance immediately after, threw still more light
upon the subject by explaining that a namesake of his, a clergyman,
lived in the street at the opposite angle of the Place. They
learnt afterwards from this gentleman, that on seeing the letter
of introduction, he perceived at once it was not intended for him,
and went to call on Mr Smith to explain the mistake. The Fates,
however, were determined that the _contre-temps_ should run its
course, for Mrs Archibald had taken down the wrong number!
In another room the party found a cheerful fire, and the
much-desiderated tea; and before separating that night, Mr
Archibald placed collateral evidence of a highly-satisfactory
nature upon the table that Mr Smith's original conjecture was
correct, and that he was indeed no minister--but a Wine-merchant.