"At his uncle's,” replied Gabriel, "just with as much coldness as if it were a matund the lane. He's waiting for a liv-ter of perfect indifference to him how he ing, and has been assisting his uncle here did, as it very likely was. for the last two or three months. But how well you have done it-I didn't think you could have carried it off so!" Mr. Watkins Tottle was proceeding to demonstrate that the Richardsonian principle was the best on which love could possibly be made, when he was interrupted by the entrance of Martha, with a little pink note folded like a fancy cockedhat. "Miss Lillerton's compliments," said Martha, as she delivered it into Tottle's hands, and vanished. "Do you observe the delicacy?” said Tottle, appealing to Mr. Gabriel Parsons. "Compliments, not love, by the servant, eh?" Mr. Gabriel Parsons didn't exactly know what reply to make, so he poked the forefinger of his right hand between the third and fourth ribs of Mr. Watkins Tottle. "I beg to deliver this note to you," said Watkins Tottle, producing the cocked-hat. "From Miss Lillerton!" said Timson, suddenly changing colour. "Pray sit down." Mr. Watkins Tottle sat down; and while Timson perused the note, fixed his eyes on an oyster-sauce-coloured portrait of the Archbishop of Canterbury, which hung over the fire-place. Mr. Timson rose from his seat when he had concluded the note, and looked dubiously at Parsons" May I ask," he inquired, appealing to Watkins Tottle, "whether our friend here is acquainted with the object of your visit?" "Our friend is in my confidence," replied Watkins, with considerable importance. “Then, sir,” said Timson, seizing both Tottle's hands, "allow me in his presence "Come," said Watkins, when the ex- to thank you, most unfeignedly and corplosion of mirth, consequent on this prac-dially, for the noble part you have acted tical jest, had subsided, "we'll be off at in this affair." once-let's lose no time." "Capital!" echoed Gabriel Parsons; and in five minutes they were at the garden-gate of the villa tenanted by the uncle of Mr. Timson. "Is Mr. Charles Timson at home?" inquired Mr. Watkins Tottle of Mr. Charles Timson's uncle's man. “Mr. Charles is at home,” replied the man, stammering; "but he desired me to say he couldn't be interrupted, sir, by any of the parishioners." "I am not a parishioner," replied Wat kins. 66 sermon, "Is Mr. Charles writing a Tom?" inquired Parsons, thrusting himself forward. "No, Mr. Parsons, sir; he's not exactly writing a sermon, but he is practising the violoncello in his own bed-room, and gave strict orders not to be disturbed." "Say I'm here,” replied Gabriel, leading the way across the garden; "Mr. Parsons and Mr. Tottle, on private and particular business." They were shown into the parlour, and the servant departed to deliver his message. The distant groaning on the vioJoncello ceased; footsteps were heard on the stairs; and Mr. Timson presented himself, and shook hands with Parsons with the utmost cordiality. "How do you do, sir?" said Watkins Tottle, with great solemnity. "How do you do, sir?" replied Timson, "He thinks I recommended him," thought Tottle. Confound these fellows! they never think of anything but their fees." "I deeply regret having misunderstood your intentions, my dear sir," continued Timson. "Disinterested and manly indeed! There are very few men who would have acted as you have done." Mr. Watkins Tottle could not help thinking that this last remark was any thing but complimentary. He therefore inquired, rather hastily, "When is it to be!" Mr. Timson looked foolish in his turn, when he replied, Why Mrs. Timson that will be this day week: Miss Lillerton that is-" "Now don't stare at that idiot in the corner," angrily exclaimed Parsons, as the extraordinary convulsions of Watkins Tottle's countenance excited the wondering gaze of Timson,- but have the goodness to tell me in three words the contents of that note." 66 ing-house, just wait there till I come and take you out, there's a good fellow." How, or at what hour, Mr. Watkins Tottle returned to Cecil-street is unknown. His boots were seen outside his bedroomdoor next morning, but we have the authority of his landlady for stating that he neither emerged therefrom, nor accepted sustenance for four-and-twenty hours. At the expiration of that period, and when a council of war was being held in the kit chen on the propriety of summoning the parochial beadle to break his door open, he rang his bell, and demanded a cup of milk-and-water. The next morning he went through the formalities of eating and drinking as usual, but a week afterwards he was seized with a relapse, while perusing the list of marriages in a morning paper, from which he never perfectly recovered. This note," replied Timson, "is from Miss Lillerton, to whom I have been for the last five weeks regularly engaged. Her singular scruples and strange feeling A few weeks after the last-named ocon some points have hitherto prevented my bringing the engagement to that ter-known, was found in the Regent's canal: currence, the body of a gentleman unmination which I so anxiously desire. In the trousers-pockets were four shillings She informs me here, that she sounded and threepence-halfpenny; a matrimonial Mrs. Parsons with the view of making her advertisement from a lady, which appeared her confidant and go-between, that Mrs, to have been cut out of a Sunday paper; Parsons informed this elderly gentleman, Mr. Tottle, of the circumstance, and that confidently believed would have led to the a toothpick, and a card-case, which it is he, in the most kind and delicate terms, identification of the unfortunate gentle offered to assist us in any way, and even man, but for the circumstance of there undertook to convey this note, which con- being none but blank cards in it. Mr. tains the promise I have long sought in Watkins Tottle absented himself from his vain-an act of kindness for which I can lodgings shortly before. A bill which has never be sufficiently grateful," not been taken up was presented next morning; and a bill which has not been taken down was soon afterwards affixed in his parlour-window. "Good night, Timson," said Parsons, hurrying off, and carrying the bewildered Tottle with him. "Won't you stay-and have something?" said Timson. 66 No, thank ye," replied Parsons, “I've had quite enough;" and away he went, followed by Watkins Tottle in a state of stupefaction. Mr. Gabriel Parsons whistled until they had walked some quarter of a mile past his own gate, when he suddenly stopped, and said "You are a clever fellow, Tottle, ain't you?" "I don't know," said the unfortunate Watkins. "I suppose you'll say this is Fanny's fault, won't you?" inquired Gabriel. "I don't know anything about it," plied the bewildered Tottle. 66 CHAPTER XI. THE BLOOMSBURY CHRISTENING. [The Author may be permitted to observe that this sketch was published some time before the Farce entitled "The Christening" was first represented.] MR. NICODEMUS DUMPS, or, as his acquaintance called him, "long Dumps," was a bachelor, six feet high, and fifty years old; cross, cadaverous, odd, and illre-natured. He was never happy but when he was miserable; and always miserable when he had the best reason to be happy. The only real comfort of his existence was to make every body about him wretched-then he might be truly said to enjoy life. He was afflicted with a situa Well," said Parsons, turning on his heel to go home, "the next time you make an offer, you had better speak plainy, and don't throw a chance away. And the next time you're locked up in a spung tion in the bank worth five hundred a-year, and he rented a "first floor furnished," at Pentonville, which he originally took because it commanded a dismal prospect of an adjacent churchyard. He was familiar with the face of every tombstone, and the burial service seemed to excite his strongest sympathy. His friends said he was surly-he insisted he was nervous; they thought him a lucky dog, but he protested that he was "the most unfortunate man in the world." Cold as he was, and wretched as he declared himself to be, he was not wholly unsusceptible of attach ments. He revered the memory of Hoyle, as he was himself an admirable and imperturbable whist-player, and he chuckled with delight at a fretful and impatient adversary. He adored King Herod for his massacre of the innocents; and if he hated one thing more than another, it was a child. However, he could hardly be said to hate anything in particular, because he disliked every thing in general; but perhaps his greatest antipathies were cabs, old women, doors that would not shut, musical amateurs, and omnibus cads. He subscribed to the Society for the Suppression of Vice for the pleasure of putting a stop to any harmless amusements; and he contributed largely towards the support of two itinerant methodist parsons, in the amiable hope that if circumstances rendered any people happy in this world, they might perchance be rendered miserable by fears for the next. Mr. Dumps had a nephew who had been married about a year, and who was somewhat of a favourite with his uncle, because he was an admirable subject to exercise his misery-creating powers upon. Mr. Charles Kitterbell was a small, sharp, spare man, with a very large head, and a broad good-humoured countenance. He looked like a faded giant, with a head and face partially restored; and he had a cast in his eye which rendered it quite impossible for any one with whom he conversed to know where he was looking. His eyes appeared fixed on the wall, and he was staring you out of countenance; in short, there was no catching his eye, and perhaps it is a merciful dispensation of Providence that such eyes are not catching. In addition to these characteristics, it may be added that Mr. Charles Kitterbell was one of the most credulous and matter-offact little personages that ever took to himself a wife, and for himself a house in Great Russell-street, Bedford-square. (Uncle Dumps always dropped the "Bedford-square," and inserted in lieu thereof, the dreadful words "Tottenham-courtroad.") 66 No, but uncle, 'pon my life you mustyou must promise to be godfather," said Mr. Kitterbell, as he sat in conversation with his respected relative one morning. "I cannot, indeed I cannot," returned Dumps. "Well, but why not? Jemima will think it very unkind. It's very little trouble." "As to the trouble," rejoined the most unhappy man in existence, "I don't mind that; but my nerves are in that state-I cannot go through the ceremony. You know I don't like going out.-For God's sake, Charles, don't fidget with the stool so, you'll drive me mad." Mr. Kitterbell, quite regardless of his uncle's nerves, had occupied himself for some ten minutes in describing a circle on the floor with one leg of the office-stool on which he was seated, keeping the other three up in the air, and holding fast on by the desk. "I beg your pardon, uncle," said Kitterbell, quite abashed, suddenly releasing his hold of the desk, and bringing the three wandering legs back to the floor, with a force sufficient to drive them through it. "But come, don't refuse. If it's a boy, you know, we must have two godfathers." "If it's a boy!" said Dumps," why can't you say at once whether it is a boy or not?" 66 "I should be very happy to tell you, but it's impossible I can undertake to say whether it's a girl or a boy, if the child isn't born yet." "Not born yet!" echoed Dumps, with a gleam of hope lighting up his lugubrious visage. "Oh, well, it may be a girl, and then you won't want me, or if it is a boy, it may die before it is christened." "I hope not," said the father that expected to be, looking very grave. "I hope not," acquiesced Dumps, evidently pleased with the subject. He was beginning to get happy. “I hope not, but distressing cases frequently occur during the first two or three days of a child's life; fits, I am told, are exceedingly com mon, and alarming convulsions are almost matters of course." Lord, uncle!" ejaculated little Kitterbell, gasping for breath. "Yes; my landlady was confined-let me see-last Tuesday: an uncommonly fine boy. On Thursday night the nurse was sitting with him upon her knee before the fire, and he was as well as possible. Suddenly he became black in the face "How frightful!" interrupted the horror-stricken Kitterbell. "The child died of course. However, your child may not die; and if it should be a boy, and should live to be christened, why I suppose I must be one of the sponsors." Dumps was evidently good-natured on the faith of his anticipations. "Thank you, uncle," said his agitated nephew, grasping his hand as warmly as if he had done him some essential service. "Perhaps I had better not tell Mrs. K. what you have mentioned." 66 Why, if she's low spirited, perhaps you had better not mention the melancholy case to her," returned Dumps, who of course had invented the whole story, "though perhaps it would be but doing your duty as a husband to prepare her for the worst." A day or two afterwards, as Dumps was perusing a morning paper at the chophouse which he regularly frequented, the following paragraph met his eye: "Births.-On Saturday, the 18th instant, in Great Russell-street, the lady of Charles Kitterbell, Esq., of a son." "It is a boy!" he exclaimed, dashing down the paper to the astonishment of the waiters. "It is a boy!" But he speedily regained his composure as his eye rested on a paragraph quoting the number of infant deaths from the bills of mortality. Six weeks passed away, and as no communication had been received from the Kitterbells, Dumps was beginning to flatter himself that the child was dead, when the following note painfully resolved his doubts: "Great Russell-street, Monday morning. "DEAR UNCLE, "You will be delighted to hear that my dear Jemima has left her room, and that your future godson is getting on capitally. He was very thin at first, but he is getting much larger, and nurse says he is filling out every day. He cries a good deal, and is a very singular colour, which made Jemima and me rather uncomfortable; but as nurse says it's natural, and as of course we know nothing about these things yet, we are quite satisfied with what nurse says. We think he will be a sharp child; and nurse says she's sure he will, because he never goes to sleep. You will readily believe that we are all very happy, only we're a little worn out for want of rest, as he keeps us awake all night; but this we must expect, nurse says, for the first six or eight months. He has been vaccinated, but in conse. quence of the operation being rather awkwardly performed, some small particles of glass were introduced into the arm with the matter. Perhaps this may in some degree account for his being rather fractious; at least, so nurse says. We pro pose to have him christened at twelve o'clock on Friday, at St. George's church, in Hart-street, by the name of Frederick Charles William. Pray don't be later than a quarter before twelve. We shall have a very few friends in the evening, when of course we shall see you. I am sorry to say that the dear boy appears rather restless and uneasy to-day: the cause, I fear, is fever. "Believe me, dear Uncle, "CHARLES KITTERBELL. P. S.-I open this note to say that we have just discovered the cause of little Frederick's restlessness. It is not fever, as I apprehended, but a small pin, which nurse accidentally stuck in his leg yester day evening. We have taken it out, and he appears more composed, though he still sobs a good deal." It is almost unnecessary to say that the perusal of the above interesting statement was no great relief to the mind of the hypochondriacal Dumps. It was impossible to recede, however, and so he put the miserable one upon the matter; and best face-that is to say, an uncommonly purchased a handsome silver mug for the infant Kitterbell, upon which he ordered the initials "F. C. W. K.," with the customary untrained grape-vine-looking flou rishes, and a large full stop, to be engraved forthwith. Monday was a fine day, Tuesday was delightful, Wednesday was equal to either, and Thursday was finer than ever; four successive fine days in London! Hackney-coachmen became revolutionary, and crossing-sweepers began to doubt the existence of a First Cause. The Morning Herald informed its readers that an old woman in Camden Town had been heard to say that the fineness of the season was "unprecedented in the memory of the oldest inhabitant;" and Islington clerks, with large families and small salaries, left off their black gaiters, disdained to carry their once green cotton umbrellas, and walkca to town in the conscious pride of white stockings, and cleanly brushed Bluchers. Dumps beheld all this with an eye of su preme contempt-his triumph was at hand. He knew that if it had been fine for four weeks instead of four days, it would rain when he went out; he was lugubriously happy in the conviction that Friday would be a wretched day-and so it was. "I knew how it would be," said Dumps, as he turned round opposite the Mansion-house at half past eleven o'clock on the Friday morning."I knew how it would be. I am concerned, and that's enough;" and certainly the appearance of the day was sufficient to depress the spirits of a much more buoyant-hearted individual than himself It had rained, without a moment's cessation, since eight o'clock; every body that passed up Cheapside, and down Cheapside, looked wet, cold, and dirty. All sorts of forgotten and long-concealed umbrellas had been put into requisition. Cabs whisked about, with the "fare" as carefully boxed up behind two glazed calico curtains as any mysterious picture in any one of Mrs. Radcliff's castles; omnibus horses smoked like steam-engines; nobody thought of "standing up" under doorways or arches; they were painfully convinced it was a hopeless case; and so every body went hastily along, jumbling and jostling, and swearing and perspiring, and slipping about, like amateur skaters behind wooden chairs on the Serpentine on a frosty Sunday. Dumps paused; he could not think of walking, being rather smart for the christening. If he took a cab he was sure to be spilt, and a hackney-coach was too expensive for his economical ideas. An omnibus was waiting at the opposite corner-it was a desperate case-he had never heard of an omnibus upsetting or running away, and if the cad did knock him down, he could "pull him up" in return. "Now, sir!" cried the young gentleman who officiated as "cad" to the "Lads of the Village," which was the name of the machine just noticed. Dumps crossed. "This vay, sir!" shouted the driver of the "Hark-away," pulling up his vehicle immediately across the door of the opposition-"This vay, sir-he's full." Dumps hesitated, whereupon the "Lads of the Village commenced pouring out a torrent of abuse against the "Hark-away;" but the conductor of the "Admiral Napier" settled the contest in a most satisfactory manner for all parties, by seizing Dumps round the waist, and thrusting him into the middle of his vehicle which had just come up and only wanted the sixteenth inside. "All right," said the "Admiral" and off the thing thundered, like a fire-engine at full gallop, with the kidnapped customer inside, standing in the position of a half doubled-up bootjack, and falling about with every jerk of the machine, first on the one side and then on the other, like a "Jack-in-the-green," on May-day, setting to the lady with a brass ladle. "For Heaven's sake, where am I to sit?" inquired the miserable man of an old gentleman, into whose stomach he had just fallen for the fourth time. 66 66 Any where but on my chest, sir," replied the old gentleman, in a surly tone. Perhaps the box would suit the gentleman better," suggested a very damp lawyer's clerk, in a pink shirt, and a smirking countenance. After a great deal of struggling and falling about, Dumps at last managed to squeeze himself into a seat, which in addition to the slight disadvantage of being between a window that would not shut, and a door that must be open, placed him in close contact with a passenger, who had been walking about all morning without an umbrella, and who looked as if he had spent the day in a full water-buttonly wetter. "Don't bang the door so," said Dumps to the conductor, as he shut it, after letting out four of the passengers; “I am very nervous-it destroys me." "Did any gen'lm'n say any thing?" replied the cad, thrusting in his head, and trying to look as if he didn't understand the request. "I told you not to bang the door so!" repeated Dumps, with an expression of countenance like the knave of clubs in convulsions. "Oh! vy, it's rather a sing'lar circunstance about this here door, sir, that it von't shut without banging," replied the conductor; and he opened the door very wide, and shut it again with a terrific bang, in proof of the assertion. "I beg your pardon, sir," said a little prim, wheezing old gentleman, sitting opposite Dumps, "I beg your pardon; but have you ever observed, when you have been in an omnibus on a wet day, that four people out of five always come in with large cotton umbrellas, without a handle at the top, or the brass spike at the bottom?" |