THE CONVEYANCE COMPANY.

AN ODD INCIDENT.

BY RICHARD JOHNS.

"IT is very odd !" said I to myself, running breathlessly up to a Conveyance Company's omnibus that stood before the Nightingale, a well-known public-house near the Edgeware-road.

The reader may ask what was odd; and very kind it will be so to do. It is the man of drum and pandean pipes out doors, who elicits from Mr. Punch his best sayings. I do not pretend to be such a wag as the wooden Roscius, but I will tell the obliging peruser of this sketch from real life, what was odd. Number one appeared on each side the door, where lately I beheld a to signify that the omnibus ran past the site of the ancient village of Charing (I love to do a little bit of antiquarianism when it saves one from tautology). Did I see straight?—Yes! what was to prevent me? We had only a magnum a-piece at my friend's of St. John's Wood, and a few odd glasses of whiskey-toddy.

"It is very odd!" said I, throwing myself into the farther corner of the cushions clad in the same plush material which people's arms seem to entitle their servants' legs to wear. "Why does not the cad take care of number one ?" Well, that was no affair of mine: so I stuck out my elbows, and squared my legs, to see how much room I could possibly occupy, to my own comfort and the inconvenience of others, when the conveyance got crowded; and well was it I did so, for, one by one, passengers dropped in, till there was no lack of occupants. It was very odd; but I seemed to be acquainted with all these personages, though they knew not me. Not that they were public characters whom everybody takes the pri vilege of staring at when present; and criticising,-mind, body, and inexpressibles, when absent. No! these were people whom I seemed to know by intuition. I understood their birth, parentage, and education; together with their secret history, interspersed with characteristic anecdotes. It was very odd. But to commence ; nor, like a rusty gimblet, content myself with my penetration, without thinking of coming out for the benefit of others."

The first who entered was a stoutly built, elderly gentleman, with a red face, redundant of obstinacy and apoplexy, attended by a slim youth of some fifteen years' standing. These were father and son, and I set them down at once for an odd pair,-a designation in itself curious enough. The old man was a perfect original, and the boy was coming on; promising fair to equal his father when he was out of his time, for he seemed to serve a regular apprenticeship to his respected parent. Mr. Burley Buskin, and his son Tom, had the greatest affection for each other; and the old saying of "what one says, the other will swear to," was in them beautifully exemplified. I was perfectly aware of all the peculiarities of Mr. Buskin senior. He had seen much of the world, had been many years abroad, consequently was at home on every subject. him the traveller's license to entertain all listeners with the wonders that earth, air, and water could be made to produce through the medium of a magnifying lens, was about as far exceeded as magisterial authority for music and dancing, granted to the Cat and Fiddle at

In

Houndsditch, is outraged by the performance of spectacle, opera, tight-rope, fire-eating, tumbling, hornpipe in fetters, and the legitimate drama. Most wonder-tellers are content with having seen strange sights, and taken a moderate share in extraordinary adventures; but Mr. Burley Buskin was always the strange sight himself in all his stories at home or abroad,—the actor of all work in every scene on the world's wide stage. A patent did not even secure an invention from his claiming it; he had originated the idea years before the thing was made public,-in fact, had mentioned it to some one who knew another person who was acquainted with the supposed inventor; and Mr. Burley Buskin had good reason to believe his plan had been conveyed to the patentee, who ought, at least, to have acknowledged the fact, and given credit where credit was due. Son Tom accompanied his father's words, sotto voce, in a sort of running commentary: without waiting for the old man to cease speaking, he managed to vouch for fact after fact as they were announced, though dated some twenty years before his birth; and when his worthy parent actually came to a full stop, to allow of the listeners' notes of admiration, he invariably wound up his portion of the entertainment by throwing his head on one side, to take a glance at his original progenitor, and exclaiming in a shrill voice, "Just as father says! father's right!"

Talking of Bengal tigers," said Mr. Burley Buskin one day at a family party," when I was in Bengal, I trained two large animals of that species to draw Mrs. Buskin's open carriage; and the go. vernor-general was kind enough to allow two sepoys constantly to attend her when she drove out, to shoot the beasts if they were inclined to be dangerous, a proper precaution you will allow but Mrs. B. was not at all alarmed; and no accident ever occurred, except in the end, when during the night one of the beasts ate the other up, and was found dead the next morning in his stable from repletion. I believe Mr. Davis's idea of representing Cybele, goddess of the earth, as drawn by lions, in his picture at the exhibition, was taken from Mrs. B. and her tigers: the young man was at New South Wales at the time, and the " Astracan" sailed direct for Sidney, while all Bengal was talking about my tigers. I understand the fellow mentions taking his subject from an ancient medal; but I know better, 'twas from Mrs. B. and her tigers; and a very good notion it was, but he might have honestly owned where he got it."

"Just as father says!" trebled young Tom ; "father's right! Don't you remember that story about our cat and the ducks?"

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"Good, Tom, good! Did you never hear that?" said Mr. Burley Buskin, turning with an inexpressibly self-satisfied smile towards his silent and astonished auditory. Caught a wild cat in my barn in Devonshire; tamed it completely by shutting her up, and feeding her on bran and barley-water; could do anything with that cat; why, she seemed to teach every other animal to adopt her mode of thinking, and to dwell at peace with all living kind. Got together in a large cage owls, mice, rats, rabbits, terriers, ferrets, and canary birds; kept them on bran and barley-water, and put puss in with them. Had a little trouble at first; but, in the end, nothing could be more amicable than the whole lot. As to that cat,-drowned a litter of her kittens, and gave her six young ducks to rear: suckled them all; and they imbibed so much of her nature, that I remarked,

when they were in high glee in the gutter, they could not quack for purring! By-the-by, the man that looked after my farm at that time I soon after discharged for presuming to say that my new machine for cutting chaff was his invention; he now makes a decent livelihood by showing some of the descendants of the very animals I taught to forget their nature; and the fellow swears he never knew me, and that the conciliation of animals was his own discovery."

It's just what father says! father's right!" said Tom.

Mr. Burley Buskin had a very pretty taste for zoology; and, if he had not actually established them as facts, had certainly put forth some extraordinary particulars respecting the class quadrumana. But this was a bitter subject to my worthy acquaintance, when much irritated at the ingratitude of the world in attributing the many benefits he had conferred on society to other persons. Getting very red in the face, and striking his cane on the ground with a noise which seemed to warrant the idea that the ferule was a detonating cap, he would exclaim,

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And that Mr. Mackintosh! how has he made his money? Did not I tell his mother years ago that we always knew when the rainy season was coming on in South America by the monkeys tearing the bark of the caoutchouc trees to rub themselves with the sap? I don't mind the fortune he has made; but he might have owned where he got the idea."

"Like the Bear in Piccadilly, I am the original!" seemed for ever descending from Mr. Burley Buskin's mouth; whilst son Tom, his jackal, was ever ready to instigate, applaud, and, after his fashion, to say, "That's the ticket!"

and an

I had hardly made these very acute observations, when my attention was diverted from the Buskins by perceiving that a thin, anxiouslooking, middle-aged man had taken possession of the seat immediately opposite me. There was a quick twinkle about his eye, impatient rubbing of his hand, as though he were mightily inclined to be actively employed; if only about trifles, still he must be doing. My newly and strangely acquired penetration into matters of character, availed me with respect to Mr. Wasteless Saverley. I saw at a glance he was odd. He had come into the omnibus quite out of breath, and no wonder; he had been very busy all day. Possessed of a gentlemanly competence, good health, a wife that did not contradict him, a family that gave him no trouble, friends that did not want to borrow money of him; a house that was in every way convenient, guiltless of a single smoky chimney; and a garden that boasted the finest fruit, in a neighborhood the boys of which, strange to say, were not given to peculation; who so happy as Mr. Wasteless Saverley? Ah! gentle reader, that was a very natural conclusion for you to arrive at, but he had a peculiarity which, if it did not actually make him unhappy, brought a host of cares in its train. He could not bear to have anything wasted.

"Use what you like, but waste nothing!"-this was the maxim in Saverley's house; and a very good maxim it is in moderation, but not as my friend, through excess of liking, abused it. I mean not that abuse which is said to be often begot of love, as exemplified in matrimonial disputes and love quarrels; but it was the inordinate use of a maxim, good in itself, which made Mr. Wasteless Saverley full

meannesses.

of troubles. He was not penurious, but he committed a thousand When at home, he was a running sentry between the stable, store-room, beer-cellar, and even the pantry: the kitchen he had tried; but "cook," who had been long in the family, was not to be trifled with in her own domain. Here he could only look in now and then, by bringing a head of game from the poulterer's: thus armed, he could sometimes get a rapid survey by walking carelessly in by the back-door to deposit his burthen on the dresser; then, with a single glance, he would pick up enough information to read a lecture on his favorite maxim to the whole house. At table, abroad or at home, Mr. Saverley never made a selection till he saw which dish was most despised by others. "It must not be wasted," thought the anxious man; he consequently dined off the neglected viand, though he might find it unpalatable. He once wore a livery-coat, that would not fit a new groom, instead of a dressing-gown, "that it might not be wasted;" and got his ears boxed in mistake, by his drunken coachman, for not bedding down the horses. Such were the inconveniences he subjected himself to, in pursuit of his darling pas

sion.

His amusements were equally peculiar. His conversions were as curious, and far more numerous than Joanna Southcote's. Broken tumblers became kitchen saltcellars; decanters were cut down into sugar-basins, if only broken conveniently for the change; and woe betide any luckless wight who smashed an article beyond the powers of his master's ingenuity! It was even asserted, that a greyhound having broken his leg, he had tried to cut him down to a turnspit; but this piece of information having been traced to Mr. Burley Buskin, I would rather not vouch for the truth of it.

Many were the benefactions of Mr. Wasteless Saverley to the neighboring poor, in consequence of the death of some cow in whom vaccination could not prevent disease, or the discovery that a pig had siekened with the measles. But, it must be honestly confessed, that Mr. Saverley would willingly have consumed these dainties at home, could he have persuaded his family to have aided in preventing their being wasted.

The day of our meeting had been an eventful one to my new friend; he had been positively assured by his spouse that an unlucky hare, which, by-the-by, had gained him a glance at the kitchen a week before, would not keep a day longer.

"Well, well, my dear!" said Mr. Wasteless Saverley; "surely you can have it dressed for the servants at once: you know I can't bear to have anything wasted!"

"That is just why I mentioned it," rejoined the lady. "We have more meat in the house than will last us a week, and the hare must be spoilt."

"Never!" exclaimed my careful acquaintance most emphatically. "Sooner than that, I will myself take it to my friend Wilkins, at Walworth."

Armed with this determination, and hare in hand, he put himself on a stage, which, rapidly proceeding to town, set him down at the corner of Gracechurch-street.

"I'll walk to Walworth," said Mr. Saverley to himself.

"Carry it for you, sir? Poor boy, sir! Do it for threepence !" cried a squalid stripling, whom our short-stage traveller thought too

ragged to be trusted. "Keep close to you, sir! Take it anywheres you likes!"

"Get along with you, will you!" said Mr. Wasteless Saverley, hurrying onward.

The boy desisted from his importunity, and turned away had he been employed, Mr. Wilkins of Walworth might have dined off the hare, if he liked high game. Friend Saverley had reached King William-street, when he felt a tug at poor puss; and in a second a fellow darted before him, and dashed away in the direction of the bridge. Mr. Wasteless Saverley was at all times a bad runner; and just then he had on a pair or his eldest son's boots, which that youth having discarded as not being well made, his father, though they were a size too small for him, could not allow to be wasted. Taking these things into consideration, it is not surprising, though each ran his best, that the hare-hunt was a short one. Mr. Saverley did not call out "Stop thief!" He did not like to waste his breath; though it was not much worth saving, since it failed him just as the robber darted down the steps beside the dry arch of London-bridge, and in a moment more was scampering through Thames-street. what did Mr. Wasteless Saverley? He had lost his hare,-of that he was certain but a new anxiety had taken possession of his breast. Staggering to the parapet, he roared after the thief, in a tone which might have belonged to a crying Brobdingnag baby,

:

Now,

"You scoundrel! you scoundrel! If you don't dress that hare to-day, it will be wasted!"

Several other passengers had now crowded into the conveyance, which commenced its rumbling course; and, as the light of the inside lamp fell on their countenances, my intuitive perception of who they were, and all about them, was actively engaged. I particular. ly remarked a would-be-youthful gentleman of fifty, the love-lock curls of whose wig concealed those marks where time had been scratching at his eyes till their lustre was somewhat bleared. But Mr. Lothario Lacklove knew not that the light of his eyes had departed. Life was yet before him, ever new; and yet the last thirtyfive years of his existence had been passed in unfortunate attachments. "The course of true love never did run smooth;" this has been the lament of thousands, but few have experienced the bitter verity of the adage to such an extent as my new acquaintance.

Mr. Lacklove's position in society was not particularly inimical to his forming a happy alliance: a gentleman by birth and educa tion, a little travel, a handsome person, a good voice, a knowledge of the guitar, and an unencumbered income of four hundred a-year. These qualifications for successful wooing might not only have found many amiable girls sensible of his merits; but even mammas and papas, who had not very ambitious views for their daughters, accessible to his proposals. But, no! by some strange fatality, Mr. Lacklove never felt the least affection for any young lady who had not an obstinately cross father or guardian, an immense fortune, an exclusive mother; or who was so far above him in position, that nothing but an unfortunate attachment could ensue. From such apparently impracticable fair ones would Lothario elect damsel after damsel to be the queen of his affections; one unfortunate attachment rapidly succeeding another, till Mr. Lacklove's heart must have fallen a vic tim to compound fractures, had not self-conceit, like Don Quixote's