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[Illustration: _Nearly “worried to Death" by the “Greatest Plagues of
one’s Life”._]




                                  THE

                       GREATEST PLAGUE OF LIFE:

                                  OR

                       The Adventures of a Lady

                     IN SEARCH OF A GOOD SERVANT.

                                  BY

              ONE WHO HAS BEEN “ALMOST WORRIED TO DEATH.”

                            [Illustration]

                    EDITED BY THE BROTHERS MAYHEW.

                   Illustrated by George Cruikshank.

                LONDON: DAVID BOGUE, 86, FLEET STREET.




                                  THE

                       GREATEST PLAGUE OF LIFE:

                                  OR

                            The Adventures

                                  OF

                  A LADY IN SEARCH OF A GOOD SERVANT.




INTRODUCTION I.

HOW I BECAME ACQUAINTED WITH THE SUBJECT OF MY LITTLE BOOK.

    “Is there a heart that never loved,
      Or felt soft Woman’s sigh?
    Is there a man can mark unmoved
      Dear Woman’s tearful eye?
    Oh, bear him to some distant shore,
      Or solitary cell:
    Where none but savage monsters roar,
      Where love ne’er deigned to dwell.”
                        POPULAR BALLAD.


It has been as wisely as beautifully remarked by the Rev. Robert
Montgomery, in his delightfully truthful and sweet, pretty Poem,
entitled “Woman an Angel!” that the lovely daughters of Eve (I quote
from memory, giving rather the sentiment than the words of that talented
and elegant divine,) were born to suffer; for not only have they their
own severe afflictions to put up with, but they are expected also to
become willing partners in those of the sons of Adam by whom they have
been led to the altar, and whose hands and fortunes they have consented
to accept and share. Without lovely Woman to soothe, restrain, and look
after them, I should like to know what would be the fate of those
impatient, obstinate, selfish, and poor helpless creatures--Men? Would
they not unpick every social tie? and go about like the brutes of the
fields, with scarcely a thing fit to put on, and their stockings all
full of holes--a prey to their all-devouring appetites--the slaves of
their ungovernable passions, and be robbed right and left by their
servants? And why, I ask, would this be the case?--why, because every
Woman, with her proper feelings about her, knows as well as I do that it
certainly would.

The immortal Swan of Avon has somewhere charmingly said--

    “Give me that man who is not passion’s slave,
    And I will wear him in my heart of hearts;”

and if such a being was ever created, I certainly must say that I should
not hesitate to follow so worthy an example as that of the immortal
Swan,--that is, indeed, were I not a married woman.

Yes, lovely daughters of Eve! ours is a horrid, bitter cup. To us the
Earth is truly a Vale of Tears, without e’en one pretty flower growing
up among the shoals and quicksands that beset our briery path, to
gladden us on our way. Indeed, the trials of us poor, dear, confiding
Women form a sad--sad history; and, Goodness knows! that the humble
individual who is now addressing the courteous Reader has had her share
of worldly troubles to bear up against. What I have suffered in my time
few would believe, and none but myself can tell. In fact, if I had not
had a very fine constitution of my own, my frame must have given way
under it,--for I am sure the heart-rending ordeals that I have been
condemned to go through with--in a word, the overwhelming--but more of
this hereafter.

       *       *       *       *       *

It was a cold Autumnal midnight, and the wind was blowing frightfully,
and the rain was beating against the windows, and not a sound was to be
heard in the streets, unless I mention the noise of some two or three
cabs tearing past the house, and bearing homewards their gay and
youthful votaries of fashion from some festive ball or joyous theatre.
Indeed, it was just such a night as makes the sympathizing heart of
Woman, when seated quietly by her own comfortable fire-side, bleed with
pity to think of the poor houseless wanderer, who is obliged to pace the
streets without e’en so much as a shoe to his feet, or anything to live
upon. I was sitting up-stairs, in my snug little bed-room, my thoughts
fixed only on Edward’s (that is, my husband’s) return; for having a
heavy cause which stood for trial in the Exchequer on the morrow, he
was, I knew, detained at his Chambers, in L--nc--n’s I--n, on important
business.

I always made it a rule, even when I had an establishment of my own,
(why I have not one now, the reader shall learn by-and-by,) of sitting
up for Edward myself, in preference to letting the servants do so. For,
in the first place, we never dine until six o’clock, although I am
naturally a small eater; and, secondly, it is unreasonable to expect
that, if the servants are kept up over-night, they can be down stairs in
the morning, in time to get through with their next day’s work; and,
thirdly, I have always found Edward come home much earlier when he knew
that I was staying up for him, instead of the maid.

I was then, as I said before, sitting up for my husband; and, to pass
the time, I was unpicking my green silk pelisse, with the view of making
it into a couple of best frocks for my sweet little pets, Kate and Annie
(my two dear good girls); and as I had worn it, I should think, not more
than one or two winters altogether, and it was getting to look quite
old-fashioned, I thought it would be better to make it up for my darling
girls, and try and prevail upon dear Edward to buy me a new one next
time we went out for a walk together.

So, as I said before, I was sitting up for my husband, and whilst I was
busy at work, I could not help contrasting my then new situation in life
(I had been in the house only one day,--but more of this hereafter,)
with the domestic comfort I once thought I should have enjoyed. “Here am
I,” (I said to myself,) “closely connected with one of the oldest
families in the kingdom,--the wife of a highly respectable professional
man,--the mother of five strong and (thank Heaven!) healthy
children,--and three of whom are boys, and the other two girls,--without
an establishment that I can call my own,--positively driven from my
home,--obliged to sell my elegant furniture at a sacrifice of five
hundred and eighty pounds and odd,--glad to take refuge in the venal
hospitality of a Boarding House!! in G--ldf--rd St--t, R--ss--ll Sq--re,
near the F--ndl--ng H--sp--t--l, and at the mercy of a set of people
that one really knows little or nothing about.” And why is this?--alas!
why? Why, because we were obliged to leave our own house, and all
through a pack of ungrateful, good-for-nothing things called servants,
who really do not know when they are well off.

Ever since we first commenced housekeeping, I cannot say the creatures
have let me know one day’s perfect peace. A more indulgent master and
mistress I am sure they never could have had. For myself, if they had
been my own children I could not have looked after them more than I
did--continually instructing them, and even sometimes condescending to
do part of their work for them myself, out of mere kindness, just to
show them how; and never allowing a set of fellows from those dreadful
barracks in Alb--ny Str--t to come running after them, turning the heads
of the poor ignorant things, and trifling with their affections, and
borrowing their wages, and living upon me. And yet the only return the
minxes made me was to fly in my face directly my back was turned, and to
drive me nearly mad; so that at times I have been in that state of mind
that I really did not know whether I was standing on my head or my
heels. For what with their breakages--and their impudence--and their
quarrelling among themselves--and their followers--and their dirt and
filth--and their turning up their noses at the best of food--and their
wilful waste and goings on--and their neglect and ill treatment of the
dear children--and their pilferings--and their pride, their airs, and
ill tempers--and those horrid soldiers--(but more of this
hereafter)--I’m sure it was enough to turn the head of ten Christians.
But I do verily believe that both my body and mind were giving way under
it; and, indeed, our medical adviser, Mr. J----pp, (as I afterwards
learnt,) told Edward as much, and that if he did not get me away, he
wouldn’t answer for the consequences; adding, that it was only the very
fine constitution I had of my own that had kept me alive under it all.
So that when Edward communicated to me what our medical adviser had
said, and proposed that we should break up our establishment, and retire
to a boarding-house, where at least we might enjoy peace and quiet, I
told him that I had long felt (though I never liked to confess as much
to him) that my domestic cares had been making inroads upon my health
and constitution that I never could restore, and that I would gladly
give my consent to any course that he thought might add to his comfort;
that all my anxiety had been to protect his property, and prevent his
furniture from going to rack and ruin before my very eyes, but that if
he wished to part with it, I would not stand in the way; for, to tell
the truth, I was sick and tired of house-keeping and servants, and only
too glad to wash my hands of them altogether.

And now that they have driven me and my husband to seek an asylum in a
respectable boarding-house, (and where, thank goodness! I have nothing
at all to do with the creatures, or the furniture--for as the things
about one are not one’s own, why, of course it’s no matter to me whether
they’re broken to bits or not; and it isn’t likely, indeed, that I
should be quite such a stupid as to go putting myself out of the way
about another person’s property,) I suppose I shall be allowed to taste
a little peace, and quiet, and comfort, for the first time since my
marriage. For, indeed, such has been, as I said before, my wear and
tear, both of mind and body, that, though Edward and I have been married
scarcely fourteen summers, I’m sure that if my courteous readers could
only see me, they would take me to be at least ten years older than I
really am--which I am not.

As I was saying, then, these thoughts floated through my mind the second
night after we had entered our new abode, and I inwardly wished to
myself that I had my time to come over again--when suddenly!--all of an
instant!--a brilliant idea rushed across my brain. It was a noble
idea!--one that would have done honour to any of our great
philanthropists, or even Mrs. Ellis herself. And, yet, was I capable of
doing justice to the idea? Alas! I feared not. Then, would it not be
rashness to attempt it? Alas! I feared it would. Still, it had so
benevolent an object, that I should be ten times worse than a blind
heathen to shrink from it. But, even if I decided upon entertaining the
idea, how was I, weak, timid, and bashful as I was, (I have always been
of a retiring disposition ever since I was a child,) ever to be able to
carry it out? It seemed to be madness to think any more of the idea. It
might all come to Edward’s ears, and he would chide his dear, foolish
Caroline (that is, myself) for undertaking it. Yet I might be the proud
means of saving hundreds of my fellow-creatures, who have unfortunately
got weak constitutions of their own, from suffering as I have.

And when I thought of this, I no longer hesitated, but determined to
publish to the world all my long experience with servants of all kinds,
and countries, and colours, so that I might, as it were, become the
pilot of young wives, to steer their fragile little barks through the
rocks and precipices of domestic life, and prevent their happiness being
wrecked as mine has been--I may say, at my own fire-side--and their
household gods turned neck and crop into the streets, to wander to and
fro, without so much as a place to put their heads in.

But how was all this to be done? Who was to help me in bringing this
charitable work before the world? At length I remembered having bought
some books of a publisher in Fleet-street, who had been, on two or three
occasions, very polite to me. To him I would go in the morning, and get
him to assist me in my noble undertaking. I did so. But the courteous
reader shall learn what transpired in another chapter.




INTRODUCTION II.

HOW I BECAME ACQUAINTED WITH THE PUBLISHER OF MY LITTLE BOOK.

    “We met: ’twas in a crowd,
      And I thought he would shun me!
    He came: I could not breathe,
      For his eyes were upon me.
    He spoke: his words were cold;
      And his smile was unalter’d.”
                     “WE MET.”--HAYNES BAYLY.


The next morning, as soon as ever breakfast was over, and Edward had
gone down to his office in L--nc--n’s I--n, I retired from the public
sitting-room, to my _private_ bed room; and as it was a fine morning,
and would be the first time that I had ever spoken to Mr. B----e on
business, I thought it would be better to put on my best bonnet (a black
velvet one, with a black bird of Paradise in it,) which I had worn as
yet only on Sundays, at church; and having done so, I made the best of
my way towards Fleet-street.

When I reached the door of the shop, I really had scarcely courage to
turn the handle; I had often heard of the nervousness of Genius, but
never before had experienced the feeling myself. I’m sure, I felt as if
my heart were in my mouth; and anybody that had wished, might have
knocked me down with a feather. So, to bring myself round, I looked at
some of the sweet, pretty engravings in the front of the shop; and
having just passed my handkerchief over my face, and arranged my bonnet
and hair as well as I could, in the plate-glass windows, I at last
summoned up strength to enter.

Standing by the fire, in the shop, was a good-looking young man, of a
dark complexion, and dressed in a tail-coat, who advanced towards me as
I entered. “Mr. B----e, I presume,” I said, addressing him, with an
amiable smile.

“In the next room, if you please, ma’m,” he replied, in a tone of
becoming diffidence.

“Thank you,” I replied, with a lady-like curtsey, and immediately
stepped into the room alluded to.

He was engaged in packing some elegantly bound books, and was a tall,
thin, young man, in a surtout, with not much colour in his face, which
was, nevertheless, full of meaning. As soon as I had caught his
eye--(which was a black one,)--I said, in a graceful manner, “I believe
I have the pleasure of addressing Mr. B----e.”

“In the next room, if you please, ma’m,” he replied, with charming
respect.

“You are extremely good,” I answered, curtseying, as before; and passing
on into the adjoining apartment, which was a counting-house. There I
observed a young man, with a Grecian nose, and grey Irish eyes, and a
buff kerseymere waistcoat, seated at a desk, very busy.

“Mr. B----e, if I’m not mistaken?” I asked, in an attractive, bland
voice.

He looked up, and answered, evidently moved by my manner, “That is Mr.
B----e, ma’m;” and he pointed to a gentleman, of prepossessing
exterior, who was seated on the opposite side of the desk, with his
thoughts evidently wrapt up in a brown paper parcel (probably the
manuscript of some popular author) he was undoing.

I advanced towards him, and found him to be a man, looking very young
considering all he must have upon his shoulders. As he walked across the
room to meet me, he appeared to run about upon five feet and
three-quarters, being neither tall nor short. He has got my eldest
girl’s hair, and my second boy’s eyes, (the one being gold-coloured, and
the other blue). He was dressed in an invisible green surtout, with a
black velvet collar, and seems to be naturally of a retiring
disposition, like myself: and, as far as I can judge, from appearances,
I should think he has a very fine constitution of his own. I do not know
whether he is a family man, but I must say, that he certainly does
appear to be a gentleman of very good breeding. And, though his
diffidence makes his manner, at first, appear grave, still he seems to
be naturally of a cheerful disposition; for, do what he could, it was
impossible for him to prevent his inward man from peeping out of his
expressive eyes.

“Mr. B----e, I presume,” I first began, in my quiet, lady-like way.

“Yes, ma’m,” he answered, with a bland smile; “will you take a chair, by
the fire?”

“Thank you; you are very kind,” I answered, arranging my dress as I sat
down. As he said nothing further, and evidently expected me to open the
business, I at length, after a short pause, summoned courage to break
the ice, and remarked--“It is a very fine day, Mr. B----e.”

Mr. B----e was of the same opinion, and replied--“It is, ma’m, very
fine.”

There was another pause, which made me feel (to use an expressive figure
of speech) far from at-home, and wholly drove out of my mind the
charming little address that, on my road, I had arranged, as an elegant
introduction to the business.

At length, however, having cleared my throat, I began.--“I have come to
see you, Mr. B----e, about publishing a little book I am determined to
write. The subject of it relates principally to the great plague
occasioned by servants. And, when we reflect, Mr. B----e,” I
continued, recollecting a portion of the speech I had prepared, “how
much of our happiness depends upon those persons, and that there is no
work of the kind designed to pilot the tender young wife when first
launched into the sea of domestic life, through the rocks and precipices
that beset her briary path----”

“Perhaps,” he delicately interrupted me, “you are not acquainted, ma’m,
with Dean Swift’s celebrated work on the subject.”

“No, Mr. B----e,” I answered, with a pleasing smile; “I am not
acquainted with Mr. Dean Swift’s book; but, as he never could have had
the experience of a wife, and a mother, of such long standing as myself,
I am satisfied that it will not, in any way, clash with the one I
purpose. Besides, no one, I am sure, Mr. B----e, can have suffered a
millionth part of what I have, from servants; for, what with the worry,
and vexation, and trouble that they have caused me, together with, I may
say, the wear and tear of both mind and body, it’s really, Mr. B----e,
a wonder that I’m here now. Indeed, as our medical adviser says, if I
hadn’t had a very fine constitution of my own, I should never have been
able to have gone through with it all. So that I think, Mr. B----e, my
troubles would make a very interesting and instructive little book.”

“Yes, ma’m,” he answered, hesitatingly; “but I’m sorry to say, domestic
troubles don’t go off at all in the trade; the public seem to have lost
all taste for them. Now, if you could work up any horrible fact, or make
a heroine out of some lady poisoner, ma’m, I think that might do. Sir
Edward’s book has been quite a hit, and there is a great demand with us
for lady poisoners just now.”

“Oh, indeed, Mr. B----e,” I answered; “but there will be some most
dreadful facts in my little book. Now, there was our Footman, who stole
the spoons; and an Irish Cook, who I really thought would have been the
death of the whole family. I intend to give the disclosure of all the
circumstances in my interesting little work. Do you think that would do,
Mr. B----e?”

“Yes, ma’m,” he answered: “but I’m afraid the book, although I’ve no
doubt (he was kind enough to add) it would be exceedingly interesting,
wouldn’t exactly suit me. I really should not like to risk it.”

“Oh! I perceive, now, Mr. B----e,” I returned, as, with my customary
sagacity, I at once saw the reason of his refusal. “My motives for
publishing my interesting little work are dictated purely by
benevolence, I can assure you. I hope you do not imagine I am one of the
people who write for money. No, Mr. B----e; I am happy to say, I am not
yet necessitated to fly to my pen as a means of support.”

The worthy gentleman seemed pleased with the nobility of my disposition;
and after a long talk I had with him, in which I explained to him all I
intended to do, he was so kind as to say that he thought a good deal
might be made out of the subject. So that I had the proud satisfaction
of finding that I had not used my abilities in vain, for he at last, in
a most gentlemanly way, not only consented to publish my interesting
little work for me, but was also good enough to suggest that it should
be illustrated; and actually was so polite as to give me a letter to
that highly-talented artist, Mr. George Cruikshank, though I told him
that I was afraid he would be too funny for a work of so serious a
character. But he quelled all my doubts, by telling me that Mr.
Cruikshank was a man of such versatile genius, that he was sure that the
drawings from his intellectual pencil would be quite in keeping with the
book; so, taking the letter of introduction, I left Mr. B----e, (my
publisher,) quite charmed with the conquest I had made.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Moral reflection after writing the above._--It has been very truly
remarked, by the greatest philosophers of our time, and it is likewise
my opinion, that London is the finest city in this transitory world. But
I cannot help observing, that Fleet-street, as it stands at present, is
a crying evil, and a perfect disgrace to it. Is it not wonderful, that
in these enlightened times, so little attention should be paid to the
feelings of fair woman, at the crossings of this great metropolis?
Englishmen, ever since charming Raleigh took his cloak off his very
back, to prevent sweet Elizabeth soiling her lovely feet, have been
acknowledged to be a highly polite and intellectual nation; but the way
in which I was jostled and hustled, and pushed about, by a set of low
London barbarians, who once or twice knocked my beautiful best black
velvet bonnet nearly off my head, makes me fear that we are all going
backwards, (if I might be allowed the expression,) and that our boasted
civilization is only a golden dream and a fib. What the Lord Mayor can
be about, at the crossings in the City, I am at a loss to say. As they
are at present regulated, it seems to me as if the civic authorities
were all asleep at their posts. Three times did I attempt to get across
the street, from Mr. B----’s, and three times was I driven back by the
bears who are permitted to drive the omnibuses and cabs of the first
city in Europe. Though the fellows saw my distress, they never once
offered to stop and make way for a lone, unprotected female, but only
seemed to take a savage delight in my alarms. And even when I did get
across, I’m sure it was at the peril of my very life. It’s only a wonder
to me that I didn’t go into hysterics in the middle of the road; and
however people, who have weak constitutions of their own, can manage to
get over it, is an inscrutable mystery to me.

       *       *       *       *       *




INTRODUCTION III.

HOW I BECAME ACQUAINTED WITH THE ARTIST TO MY LITTLE BOOK.

    “He shook! ’twas but an instant,
      For speedily the pride
    Ran crimson to his heart,
      Till all chances he defied:
    It threw boldness on his forehead;
      Gave firmness to his breath;
    And he stood like some grim Warrior,
      New risen up from death.”
                     BARRY CORNWALL, (_The Admiral_.)


What heartfelt joy it imparts to find a gentleman willing to lend a
helping hand to the ideas of the good, and assist a virtuous female in
distress. And how true and poetic it was of the Greeks to make Charity a
woman; for does not charity begin at home, and does not the proud empire
of lovely woman begin there also. And would not every respectable female
be overflowing with goodness were it not for the harsh sway of the fell
tyrant Man, who, with a heavy hand, alas! too often skims their milk of
human kindness, and takes all the cream off the best feelings of their
nature.

When I reached Mr. Cruikshank’s door, though it was the first time I had
ever the pleasure of visiting that great person, still from the
beautiful appearance that the threshold of his establishment presented,
I at once knew my man. The door-step was so sweetly white and clean that
one might have been tempted to eat one’s dinner off of it, while the
brass plate was as beautiful a picture as I ever remember to have seen.
In that door-plate I could see the workings of a rightly-constituted
mind. And here let me remark to my courteous Reader, by what slight
incidents we deduce----(but I will reserve my observations on
door-plates in general for my moral reflections at the end of this
chapter).

When the door was opened, I was delighted to find that everything within
bore out the conclusion I had drawn of this great man’s character from
his simple door-step. Though it could scarcely have been more than
half-past twelve in the day, I was agreeably surprised to find that the
maid who let me in had cleaned herself, and was dressed in a nice, neat
cotton gown, of a small pattern, and anything but showy colour, ready to
answer the door. I was truly charmed to see this; and indeed, from the
young woman’s whole appearance and manner, which was very respectful, I
saw at once that Mr. Cruikshank was rich in being possessed of a
treasure. What would I not have given once for such a being----but,
alas! I am digressing.

Although I looked everywhere, I could not find a speck of dust or dirt
anywhere, not even in the corners. “Ah!” (I said to myself, as I was
going up the stairs,) “how different is this from the common run of
artists.” When I went to have my portrait painted by Mr. Gl--k, in
N--wm--n St--t, I am sure you might have taken the dust up in spoonfuls,
which convinced me that he was no Genius; for I must and will say, that
the man who does not give his mind to the smaller affairs of life, will
never succeed with the greater ones; for is it not proverbial that a
master-hand is to be seen in everything? And to prove to the courteous
Reader how correct my opinion was, Mr. Gl--k turned out to be but an
indifferent artist, after all, for he made me look like a perfect
fright.

After waiting a few minutes in a delightful ante-room, I was shown into
the Study, and for the first time stood face to face with that
highly-talented artist and charming man, George Cruikshank, Esquire,
whom, as a painter, I don’t think I go too far in calling the Constable
of the day.

Were I in this instance to adopt Dr. Watts’s beautiful standard by which
to judge of the stature of intellectual men--that is, “that the mind is
the measure of the man,” I should say that Mr. George Cruikshank is a
perfect Giant, a mental Colossus of Rhodes, or Daniel Lambert; but
viewing him in the flesh, he appeared to be of an ordinary height.
Directly I saw him, he presented to me the appearance of a fine picture
set in a muscular frame, his body being neither stout nor thin.

His features, which are strictly classical, and strike you as a piece of
antiquity, and belonging to the Ancients, appear to have been finely
chiselled, while Genius (to use an expressive figure of speech) is
carved in large, unmistakeable characters on his lofty brow, (though, of
course, I do not mean that this is literally the case.) Nature has
evidently thrown Mr. Cruikshank’s whole soul in his face; there is (if I
may be allowed the expression) a fire in his eye which is quite cheerful
to look at; and when he speaks, from the cordial tone of his discourse,
you feel as certain, as if his bosom was laid bare to you, that his
heart is in its right place. Nor can I omit to mention the picturesque
look of his whiskers, which are full and remarkably handsome, and at
once tell you that they have been touched by the hand of a great
painter.

In disposition, Mr. Cruikshank seems to be peculiarly amiable, (indeed,
he was exceedingly kind and attentive to me,) for he appears to have a
great partiality for animals of all kinds. In his room was a perfect
little love of a spaniel, (very much like our Carlo before he was stolen
from us,) and on his mantelpiece was a beautiful plaster model of a
horse trotting, while at his window hung a charming singing canary, to
all of which he seems to be very much attached.

Over the chimney-piece is a picture--the creation of his highly-talented
fingers--of Sir Robert Bruce, in a dreadful pass in Scotland, being
attacked by three men, and killing them, while mounted on his rearing
charger. It is painted in oil colours, and is a work full of spirit and
fire; though, for my own part, I must say that I do not think Mr.
Cruikshank shines so much in Oil as he does in Water.

Having in a most polite way begged that I would take a chair, which I
did with a graceful curtsey, he stated he had read Mr. B----e’s letter,
and added, that he needn’t ask if my interesting little work was to be
“moral;” on which I replied, with an agreeable smile, “Eminently so, Mr.
Cruikshank,” and told him that it purposed merely to set forth all the
plague, and worry, and trouble, which I had been put to by servants,
which seemed to please him very much; and I briefly laid before him all
I had undergone, adding, that it was a wonder to every one who knew me
how I had ever managed to battle through with it, and that our medical
adviser had declared that it was merely the very fine constitution I had
of my own that had enabled me to do so; and that it was my proud
ambition to become the pilot of future young wives in the stormy sea of
domestic life. On which he was pleased to compliment me highly, and was
kind enough to volunteer to do a sketch of me in that character, for a
frontispiece to my interesting little work.

However, I told him that I should prefer appearing in a more becoming
garb, and that I had merely used the pilot as an expressive figure of
speech; but that as doubtlessly he would like to introduce me into the
frontispiece of the book, I told him I thought the best subject would be
an engraving of myself, wishing that I was out of the world on the day
after our man-servant had run away with the plate; and I asked him if he
would like to take a portrait of me then and there, as I could easily
step into the next room, and arrange my hair in the glass. But in a most
gentlemanly way he stated that he could not think of putting me to that
trouble, especially as he had already got my whole form engraved in his
mind’s eye, for there were some people, he said, whose figure, when once
seen, was always remembered. And he was pleased to say a number of other
things equally flattering to me, but which my natural modesty, and the
inward dread I have of being thought egotistical, prevent my inserting
here.

I told him, moreover, that, from the life-like descriptions of the
different servants I had had in my time that he would find given in my
interesting little book, a man of his genius, I was sure, would
experience no difficulty in delineating their features. Upon which he
was so good as to say that he had no doubt he should find the work all I
had stated. And then, observing that I was about to depart, he opened
the door for me; on which I begged of him not to trouble himself on my
account; but he persisted, saying, in the most gentlemanly way, “that he
would see me to the door with the greatest pleasure.”

       *       *       *       *       *

_My moral reflections upon the preceding chapter._--How necessary it is
for the young house-wife to pay proper attention to all outward
appearances; for is it not by them that the hollow world judges, since
it is impossible for short-sighted Man to see the secret workings of our
hearts within us. The first object that meets the stranger’s eye on
coming to our house is the door-plate, and thus a mere bit of brass is
made the index of our characters.--If it be highly polished, of course
they conclude that we are highly polished also; if, however, it be
dirty, shall we not be deprived of our fair name. What a moral duty,
then, should it be with the mistress of every establishment to see that
her brass is rubbed up regularly every morning, so that she may be able
to go through the world without ever knowing shame.




CHAPTER I.

MY APPEARANCE--MY STATION IN LIFE--MY FAMILY AND PERSONAL
CHARACTERISTICS.

      “Sing! who sings
    To her that weareth a hundred rings,
      Ah! who is this lady fine?
           *       *       *       *       *
      A roamer is she,
           *       *       *       *       *
    And sometimes very good company.”
                BARRY CORNWALL.

I was born about four o’clock in the morning, on the 23rd day of
September, 1810. I am told I was a remarkably fine child, though it is a
curious fact that my intellect was some time before it displayed itself.
But my dear mamma has since often confessed to me that this rather
pleased her than otherwise, observing, with a pardonable fondness, that
great geniuses had mostly been distinguished for their stupidity in
their youth; so that my parents felt little or no anxiety about me.

Being the only child, I was not weaned until I was more than eighteen
months--to which circumstance our medical adviser attributes, in a great
measure, the very fine constitution I have of my own. I was always a
great pet with papa; indeed, many of our oldest friends, who knew me as
a child, have since told me that he quite spoilt me. My childhood was
such a golden dream, and fleeted by so quickly, that, though I am little
more than thirty years of age, still I cannot at present call to mind
any incident that occurred in my youth which might amuse the courteous
Reader.

I was not remarkable for my beauty as a young girl, but I am told there
was something very interesting in me; and my manners were so winning,
that I was a general favourite with all, except the servants, who found
me one too many for them.

My maiden name was B--ff--n; and my father, who was a C--l M--rch--nt,
in an extensive way of business, resided in K--nt--sh T--wn, and had
dealings with some of the first families in the neighbourhood. I was
christened Caroline, after my mamma, who was nearly related to the
R--msb--tt--ms, whose noble ancestor, F--tz-R--msb--tt--m, came into
England with the Conqueror, and mamma says his name was once on the Roll
of Battle Abbey. Mr. R--msb--tt--m, who was the uncle of mamma’s first
husband’s brother’s wife, is still possessed of an extensive seat near
C--nt--rbury, remarkable for its antiquity.

My mamma, who was justly proud of the noble blood which flows in the
veins of our family, brought my father considerable property; which,
however, owing to his being of a very generous disposition, he soon ran
through. So that when I was born, he was endeavouring to recruit his
fortune, by carrying on the noble business of a merchant; and was even
then possessed of several fine vessels, which used to come up the
R--g--nt’s Canal, and be moored off the sweet, pretty little wharf of
his, studding its banks.

My education was chiefly superintended by my beloved mamma, who could
not bear to part with her little “duck’s-o’-diamonds,” (as she would
fondly call me,) until I had reached the advanced age of fourteen, when
my papa prevailed upon her to allow him to send me over to a highly
fashionable finishing academy at Boulogne-sur-mer, in _le belle France_,
where I learnt every accomplishment that can adorn a lady. I soon became
such a proficient in the tongue, and acquired so perfect an accent, that
my schoolmistress assured mamma (when she came to fetch me home) that I
could speak it “_tout-à-fait comme une natif_,” (that is, quite like a
native of the country,) and which I have found to be of great service to
me in after-life.

When I was about sixteen, my personal charms began to develop
themselves, and having a fine thick head of hair (of a rich, warm
chesnut colour) my mamma would make me wear it in long, beautiful
ringlets; and, indeed, even now my back hair is so long that it reaches
much lower than my waist. My eyes, which were of light hazel, though
small, were considered so full of expression, that they made up in
meaning what they wanted in brilliance; while I was blessed with such a
remarkably fine, clear complexion of my own, and had such an extremely
high colour, (which, indeed, I have retained to this day,) that I have
over and over again been accused of rouging; (both my little girls take
after me in this respect.) I have my papa’s nose, which is a fine Roman,
and my mamma’s mouth and dimple. My greatest drawback, as a young woman,
was my exceedingly bashful and retiring disposition, which used to
flutter me so, that whenever I was spoken to by a stranger, it
invariably threw all the blood in my body into my face; so that I seldom
had a word to say for myself--which failing, indeed, I never have been
able to get over even to this time.

Long before I was twenty-one, my papa had many advantageous offers for
my hand, but he would accept of none of them for me; as he did not then
consider me fit to enter upon the stormy path of matrimonial life, for
my dear, foolish mamma would never allow me to attend to the
housekeeping, from a pardonable pride she felt in her illustrious
descent. So that, as things turned out, perhaps it was better that I did
not get settled until I had nearly attained my twenty-sixth year.

On the 14th of May, 1840, at the ball of the Caledonians, I met my
present husband, Edward Sk--n--st--n, Esquire, who was then a widower
without encumbrance, (although, if there _had_ been any children by his
former wife, I trust I know myself too well to have done other than
treat them as my own flesh and blood.) The poor man was so taken with my
_tout ensemble_ at first sight, that he would scarcely leave me for a
moment throughout the evening, and would insist upon accompanying both
mamma and myself home.

We soon discovered that he was a lawyer, in a very excellent practice;
so that mamma, the next time he called, asked him to stop to dinner with
us, and introduced him to papa, who was very glad to see him. After
dinner, when we had gone to the drawing-room, mamma begged me to sing;
and I obliged him with one of my most admired little French “_Romans_,”
when the poor man seemed quite moved by my strains.

The next day, he came to ask mamma and myself to accompany him to
Madame Tussaud’s Exhibition; but mamma suddenly remembered a particular
call she had to make that afternoon on a friend in the opposite
direction, so I was forced to go alone with him. When we were by
ourselves, in “the Chamber of Horrors” there, Mr. Sk--n--st--n remarked,
in a low voice, choked by emotion, upon the charms of my retiring
disposition, and said that I was the very reverse of his poor, dear,
sainted wife, who he was kind enough to hope and trust was in heaven.

In about a week, his attentions to me became so marked, that it was the
common talk of all our friends, insomuch so that dear papa, out of an
over-fondness and anxiety on my account, was obliged to ask him what his
intentions were towards me; for he was fearful lest Mr. Sk--n--st--n
might be one of those monsters in human form who trifle with a young
girl’s best affections, and then fling them aside as they would a dead
pink, or any other faded flower that they had taken the bloom off of.

In this interview, Edward, whose heart I always knew was of too noble a
nature ever to deal thus vilely with a poor maid, at once declared his
passion, and demanded my hand, which my father joyfully gave him,
together with his blessing. After this, Edward became a constant visitor
at the house; and he arranged to lead me to the altar a month after the
first anniversary of his sainted wife’s death, so that the proper
decencies of society might not be violated in our case.

I shall never forget the melancholy sentiment that filled my bosom
whenever I thought of that joyful event taking place. What an awful step
I was about to take! Was it for good--or for evil? Alas! who could say?
Perhaps I might become the mother of several beauteous babes! What new
feelings and duties would then overwhelm this heart. Was I equal to the
task? Alas! who could tell? I was about to leave my dear papa’s Halls,
and to quit the embraces of an aged mamma, of noble ancestry, for the
arms of one of whom I could know but little; yet a small still voice
within me assured me that, come what might, at least Edward would treat
me well. His presents to me had already shown him to be a man of great
good nature, and I could not forget his affecting emotion when he
implored my acceptance of the jewellery that once belonged to his
sainted wife.

The night previous to the day that Edward had appointed to swear to love
and cherish me in sickness and in health, and take me for better or for
worse, as I sat with my dear mamma and the maid completing the body (the
skirt was already finished) of my bridal robe, my maternal parent, with
tears in her eyes, desired the maid to leave the room, as she wished to
speak to me alone.

As soon as the girl had gone, my mamma told me that I was about to take
an awful step, and that she hoped and trusted that it would all turn out
happily. But that there was one thing that she felt it was her duty,
upon my entrance into life as it were, to warn me against--one thing, on
which alone domestic happiness could be built--one thing, on which I
should find my comfort depended more than any other--one thing, in fact,
which might strew either my path with roses, or my bed with thorns. And
then she asked me what I thought this one thing was? Probably I might
think she meant my husband--but no! it was something of far more
consequence to me than that. Or I might think she meant fortune, or
economy, or my offspring--(if I were destined to be so blessed.) It was
none of these, she told me--nor was it amiability of temper, or a proper
pride in appearance, or marital constancy--no! these had but a trifling
connexion with the peace and quiet of my future domestic life compared
with that which she alluded to. In a word, she said, I should find the
key-stone to all my future welfare rested upon those I should have about
me. She referred to--servants. It was only by the proper management of
them, she said, that I could ever expect to taste happiness; and she
warned me not to govern with a light hand, but to do as she had done,
and which, she assured me, was the only way of making them respect and
obey me, and that was, to rule with a rod of iron. And then, telling me
that her words ought to be printed in letters of gold, she bade me dry
up my tears and resume my work.

Ha-ah!--Little did I then--giddy, inexperienced child that I was--see
the value of the jewels that fell from dear mamma’s mouth; but in my
happy innocence I inwardly set them down as the words of one whose
naturally sweet disposition had been soured in her dealings with this
empty world. Had I but treasured up her truths in my heart, I should not
have suffered as I have. (But more of this hereafter.)

It was not until nearly midnight that we had finished my wedding
garment; and when I retired to rest, I did so with a fluttering heart;
and laying my head on my pillow, I said to myself--“Ah! poor Caroline!
fond, foolish girl, what a plunge art thou about to make into the Book
of Fate! To-morrow!--to-morrow!”

The occurrences of that day I will reserve for another chapter.

       *       *       *       *       *

_My moral reflections after writing the above._--How beautifully fitting
an emblem and becoming an ornament is the orange-flower for the virgin
bride! For does not its milky purity tell long--long tales of the
snow-like affection of the generous maiden who is about to give away her
heart to one whose love she has yet to try? Is it not the silver blossom
of a tree that bears rich and golden fruit? And is it not left to man to
say whether, by casting on the virgin bud the sunshine of his smiles, he
shall ripen it into sweetness; or, by withholding them, she shall remain
sour after her green youth has passed away? But, ah! how many a tender
young wife, who at the altar sighs that her budding hopes may grow into
the sweet fruit of St. Michael, finds them, in the end, alas! only
converted into the bitter ones of Seville.




CHAPTER II.

OF MY WEDDING, AND MY GETTING “SETTLED.”

    “I wore my bridal robe,
      And I rivalled its whiteness;
    Bright gems were in my hair;
      How I hated their brightness!”
                     “WE MET.”--HAYNES BAYLY.


The morrow came, and any one who could have beheld my downcast looks,
and heard the sighs that came from the very bottom of my heart, would
little have fancied that I was so near that interesting period of a
maiden existence, which is erroneously styled the happiest moment of her
life.

My mamma was good enough to say that my bridal robe fitted me admirably;
remarking that, perhaps, it would have looked richer had the skirt been
a trifle more full. Edward had presented me with a splendid
Nottingham-lace veil to throw over my head on this occasion, and a
superb “Berthe” to match. But in my then state of mind, I looked upon
these articles as gaudy nothings, attaching a value to them merely as
being the gifts of my bosom’s lord.

My mamma tried in vain to console me. She told me that I had nothing to
fear about entering into life, and begged of me to summon up all my
inward woman, to give me strength to go through with it. Had she not,
she asked me, prevailed upon Edward to leave his old dwelling, and take
a pretty little cottage for me in P--rk V--ll--ge, R--g--nt’s P--rk, so
that she might always be near to me and him. And she assured me, in a
gentle way, that I need not be alarmed, on account of my youthful
inexperience, as she would make it a duty to superintend all my domestic
arrangements until I got in the way of managing them myself; which, with
my natural abilities, she fondly said, would not take me long. And she
further told me that, as a start in life, she had a little surprise for
me; for she had determined, that in addition to some of her best pickles
and preserves, with which she intended to stock my store-room, before my
return from the honeymoon, she purposed presenting me with two bottles
of her celebrated cherry brandy, which she declared she would not have
parted with to any one but her own flesh and blood--although her friends
were always welcome to come and taste it whenever they pleased--that she
alone knew the true way of making it--and that she was determined the
secret should die with her. And, moreover, she said, that as, after the
advice she had given me over-night, I could easily perceive how
necessary it was for a young wife to have proper people about her, she
would kindly relieve me of any anxiety I might feel in suiting myself
with my first servant, by finding me, during my short absence from town,
such a one as she, from her knowledge of these matters, would answer for
proving quite a treasure. I thanked her with only a sorry smile, being
at such a time unable to appreciate her goodness, for my thoughts were
far--far away.

At a little after 10, the two Misses B--yl--s, whom I had selected for
my bridemaids, and who are carriage people, drove up to the door in
their papa’s sweet little pony phaeton. Having taken off their cloaks,
and changed their bonnets for the white chip ones they had brought with
them in a band-box, they looked truly charming; for they are dear, good,
showy girls, and were dressed in some elegant robes of book muslin,
trimmed with peach-blossom, and carry themselves divinely.

When Edward arrived, I thought I never saw him look better. His hair had
been beautifully curled, and he wore the blue coat, and the white
trousers of plighted affection; and when he presented me with a charming
bouquet, for the first time in my life, I felt the language of flowers.

My father had bespoken two handsome carriages for the festive day; and
when we arrived at the church, I really thought, as we moved in
procession along the pews, that my limbs would have given way under me,
and that I should have dropped in the aisle.

Of the imposing marriage ceremony I recollect little or nothing. It was
all a vague, misty dream to me. I was slightly conscious of a ring being
put upon the third finger of my left hand, and of saying, quite
mechanically, in a voice full of emotion, once or twice, “I will,”
though I was so overcome with a sense of the step I was taking, that I
had no knowledge at the time of what I was responding to. Edward, as my
mother afterwards told me, bore it very well, and quite like a man. I
was delighted to learn that he was observed to pay great attention to
the service, and seemed to be fully aware of what he was undertaking, in
so solemn a manner, to do towards me.

When we returned to my papa’s Halls to breakfast, I was a tender and
affectionate wife, so that when old Mr. B--yl--s said, “Mrs.
Sk--n--st--n, will you allow me the pleasure of a glass of wine with
you?” and I remembered that _that_ was now _my_ name, it came upon me as
if some one had just fired a pistol off in my ears.

The breakfast was a sumptuous repast, and included every delicacy of the
season; but I remember, I was so affected, that I could only touch part
of the wing of a chicken, one jelly, some lobster salad, a custard, and
some wedding-cake, which was a very expensive and rich one, being one of
the very best that Partrington could make.

After my papa had proposed “bumpers, and all the honours,” and essayed a
speech, which he could not proceed with for his emotion, poor man--but
which we all knew was intended to call down a blessing on myself, and
(to use his own touching words) “the man who had robbed him of
me”--Edward returned thanks in a beautiful speech, which he had read to
me the day preceding. It was full of lovely quotations from our very
best poets, and was intended to solace my poor papa and mamma for the
loss of me, by assuring them that he would consider nothing on earth too
good for me, and would gladly part with his last sixpence to make me
happy.

Previous to leaving town that afternoon, we had some capital fun with
passing some of my wedding-cake through my ring, for that sweet girl,
Em--ly B--yl--s, and her angelic sister, to sleep upon.

While I changed my bridal robe, I requested my weeping mother to take
care and see that a large piece of my wedding-cake was sent round to
each of the better class of our friends whom we wished to have the
pleasure of visiting, and to whom I had previously addressed cards and
“At-homes” for that day month. And then taking a last fond look at my
papa’s Halls, I was led, blushing, to the carriage by dear Edward, and
we were soon on the road for Brighton, having torn ourselves away from
my affectionate mamma, who gave us her blessing and some sandwiches.

I will pass over the happy moments of the first fortnight of my
honeymoon. We took apartments in Rottendean, near Brighton, so that we
might be able to enjoy the beauty and fashion of the town, with all the
quietude of the village. Here it was that Edward cemented the love he
had now built up in my heart, by the present of a work-box, with a
charmingly-done picture of the extremely elegant Pavilion on the lid.

Well do I remember that precious time, when, arm-in-arm, we would
wander, for whole hours together, in our buff slippers, along the golden
sands, talking (alas! blind mortals) of the happiness which we thought
was never to end. All was beautiful and bright, and seemed to us both
like a fairy dream, until the second Saturday after we had been there;
when I received a long letter from my beloved mamma, informing me that
she had not forgotten her dear Caroline; and that at last, after seeing,
she should say, forty servants, she had succeeded in finding the
treasure she had been seeking for me--that she had arranged to give her
£10 a year, and find her own tea and sugar, as she was just the
respectable middle-aged woman that she should like to place with her
pet, and had a ten years’ excellent character from her last situation,
which had been with a clergyman in the country. She was cleanly, even
tempered, an early riser, a good plain cook, and a devout Christian; she
was honest, industrious, and sober; in fact, she had just taken the
pledge--although, indeed, before that, she had always had a natural
aversion to spirits of all kinds--that she had arranged to have the maid
in my house about four days before our leaving Brighton, so that she
might have it all clean, comfortable, and tidy for us against our return
to town; and my dear mamma concluded her affectionate epistle by praying
in her heart that her poor, dear girl might find the woman the
inestimable blessing that she confidently expected and devoutly wished
her to prove to me. (But more of this hereafter.)

I had read my dear mamma’s epistle to my husband, and he remarked that
he was sure it was very kind of her--very kind of her, indeed, he
said--to put herself to so much trouble on our behalf. Though he hurt my
feelings by adding, that he thought it might contribute more to my
happiness hereafter if she were to be restrained from taking quite so
active an interest in our domestic affairs for the future; for, during
all his experience, he had remarked that relations by marriage agreed
much better the less they saw of one another. Not that he wanted
altogether to estrange me from my family--Heaven forbid! he said; but he
wished his darling angel (that is, myself) to undertake the management
of his establishment herself--although he could not help allowing that
my dear mamma was an excellent woman, and meant very well.

This cut me to the heart; for I had strange, melancholy forebodings of
dissensions in store for us, of which I feared the over-anxiety of my
dear mamma would be the cause.

After three weeks of continued happiness, we left the shores of honest
Rottendean, and returned to hollow-hearted London, and I felt satisfied
that my husband would no longer be displeased with dear mamma’s fond
care, when he found what a treasure of a maid she had procured for us.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Moral reflection after writing the above._--“Laws were made,” my Edward
says, “to protect people’s property;” but my opinion is, that they were
made for nothing of the kind; or, if they were, that those who made them
knew nothing at all about their business; or else I’m sure there
wouldn’t be half the picking and stealing that there is going on every
day in the lodging-houses at the sea-side. For the way in which we were
robbed right and left, where we lived at Brighton (or at Rottendean,
which is the same thing), and the hole that _that_ story-telling old
landlady of ours used to make in our cold meat, was enough to turn a
right-minded woman like myself crazy. I’m sure we must have been keeping
the whole family, we must; for they not only couldn’t keep their fingers
off our meat, but they went dipping them into our tea-caddy, and
candle-box, and sugar-basin, so that one need have had a purse a mile
long to have paid one’s way with any credit to oneself. I declare it was
enough to drive any well-disposed body away from the place; and I can
only say, that from all I’ve seen and suffered myself there, I can well
understand King George the Fourth (who was a perfect gentleman) turning
his nose up at the people, and vowing that he’d have nothing more to do
with the scurvy set.




CHAPTER III.

     OF THE TERRIBLE GOINGS-ON OF MY FIRST MAID, AND WHOM WE ALL
     EXPECTED WOULD HAVE TURNED OUT SUCH A “TREASURE.”

    “In this bosom what anguish, what hope, and what fear
      I endure for my beautiful maid.
    In vain I seek pleasure to lighten my grief,
      Or quit the gay throng for the shade;
    Nor retirement nor solitude yields me relief,
      When I think of my beautiful maid.”
                 BRAHAM’S “_Beautiful Maid._”


We quitted Brighton by the stage, and had a delightful drive up as far
as Tooting, where we left the coach, and stopped to rest ourselves a
short time, as dear Edward was fearful lest I should over-fatigue myself
by going through the entire journey at once; after which we ordered a
post-chaise, and drove up to our house in great style.

As the equipage rattled up Alb--ny St--t, I could not help having a
pleasing vision of the prolonged happiness which I now fancied was
within arm’s reach of me, (if the courteous reader will allow me the
expression.) When we got to our pretty little cottage orné, and I saw
the establishment of which I was to be the future mistress, I felt _so_
honestly proud, _so_ truly gratified, _so_ charmed with the new duties
that it had pleased Providence to impose upon me--even though I was
rather knocked up with our journey--that I now began to feel myself
quite another thing.

It was extremely curious to see the heads of our new neighbours peeping
over the blinds of their parlour windows, as our post-chaise dashed up,
with lighted lamps, to our door, while the boy thundered at the knocker.
I believe this trifling circumstance tickled my girlish vanity at the
moment; but I’m sure my courteous readers will think the feeling very
excusable, when they recollect I was as yet but a young bride.

I was greatly alarmed, and not a little surprised, to find the door
answered by my dear mamma; for I was convinced that she knew her station
in life too well ever to dream of doing such a thing, unless compelled
by some calamity. Edward seemed to be as much annoyed as myself, and did
not scruple to speak out about it; and, indeed, his feelings made him
forget himself in the presence of the post-boy; for he knit his fine
brow, and wondered why my dear mamma could not let the servant attend to
the door. But, alas! how little did we then dream of the cause.

When all our luggage had been got into the hall, and we had dismissed
the post-boy with what I’m sure was a very handsome gratuity for
himself, my mamma at once broke to us the terrible news which was to
welcome us home.

About three that afternoon, the good, kind soul had given herself the
trouble of coming over to see that all was nice and comfortable against
our arrival. She had knocked for at least a quarter of an hour, and
fancying the maid might be out on an errand, she had gone a little
further. But on coming back, she had found the same impossibility of
making any one in the house hear. She grew extremely alarmed, though
naturally far from a nervous woman, like the rest of our family. She
thought the house perhaps had been stripped, and the horrid ideas that
passed through her mind she told us no one could imagine. At last she
determined on forcing an entrance for herself; so she borrowed a pair of
steps from next door; and with extreme difficulty, (for mamma is
inclined to be stout,) and almost at the peril of some of the bones in
her body, got in at the parlour window.

Down in the kitchen, she found the maid lying on her back on the rug,
before the fire, in a state of complete insensibility, while our best
linen sheets--which mamma had given out to her the day before, in order
that they might be properly aired against our return--were hanging on
the horse, burnt to perfect rags, so that they could not even be cut up
into glass-cloths; and it was a mercy, she said, for which we ought to
go down on our bended knees, that we did not come home and find our
cottage orné a mass of black, smouldering, heart-rending ruins.

The state into which this dreadful news threw both Edward and myself may
be more easily imagined than described. Mamma’s lively picture of the
good-for-nothing woman’s sufferings filled our hearts at the time with
pity for the disreputable creature. We all thought it was a fit, and
that the slut was afflicted with epilepsy; but alas! it was much worse
than that; and she was, therefore, totally undeserving of all sympathy.
Though we were then so wrapt up in the woman, (if I might be allowed the
expression,) that we were unable to see through the minx; which fully
convinces me of the truth of the popular saying--“that we are all blind
mortals.”

And a nice state we found the place in, indeed--everything topsy turvy
throughout the establishment--indeed, any one, to have seen it, would
have said that the whole house had been turned out of windows--not even
so much as a spark of fire in the parlour grate--no cloth laid, nor
things on the table for tea. Indeed, had we been dying of hunger ever
so, there was nothing in the house for us but discomfort and misery--nor
was there a thing to welcome us but some hot water--and even _that_ we
should not have had, if my dear mamma herself had not prepared it for
our reception. So that--to use a figure of speech--the place really
seemed as if it did not belong to us, and that we were nothing better
than intruders in our own house.

I was even forced to stoop to light the fire myself; and my fair readers
may well imagine my feelings when I tell them that there was scarcely
even a bundle of wood in the establishment. As soon as it was fairly
alight, I gave the bellows to poor Edward, who not being, as he said,
“used to that sort of thing,” was consequently in a great passion; so I
left him alone to blow up the fire, while I went to see that deceitful
bit of goods, with the epilepsy, as I thought, up in the front
attic--for my mother had put her to bed during her fit--(pretty fit,
indeed!--but more of this hereafter.)

When I got there, I found my dear mamma standing by the bed-side with a
brandy-bottle, giving her some of the liquor in a dessert-spoon, with
the view of bringing her back to her senses. Asking mamma how the poor
thing (a deceitful baggage!) was, she told me that she had given her
some spirits before, and it seemed to do her a world of good, for she
had gone off to sleep afterwards. Presently, the girl opened her eyes,
and from the dull, leaden expression they had, I was quite shocked; for
at the time she appeared to me to be literally standing at death’s door.
I shook her gently, (though if I had known then half as much as I do
now, I really think I should have forgotten myself, and shaken the cat
to bits,) and asked her how she felt herself now. Upon which she made an
effort to speak; but the woman was no longer herself, for she had
entirely lost the use of her tongue, and there was no getting anything
out of her. My mamma, however, thought she would be able to understand,
even if she could not speak; and told Mary that it was very wrong and
wicked of her not to have said that she was subject to fits before she
entered our service, and tried to learn whether they were periodical or
not, but all to no purpose. So we both left her; and I remarked to
mamma, as we came down stairs, that, though I should have felt myself
bound to have mentioned the circumstance of her fits in her character,
still the omission was very excusable in her late mistress; for it
really would have been like taking the bread out of the poor creature’s
mouth, which no true lady could be expected to do.

When we returned to the parlour, we found Edward with (thanks to
goodness!) a nice fire, but he was so surly, (and well he might be,) at
the place being so uncomfortable, that he kept banging the things about,
though I did not expect he would have done as much so soon after our
marriage; and I recollect at the time it struck me as being highly
indecent. We described to him the state of the girl, and were much hurt
(though we thought it best not to show it) at the strong want of feeling
he displayed upon hearing an account of her affliction; for he was too
ready to put a bad construction on her illness; and didn’t hesitate to
say that he’d forfeit his head if the fits didn’t turn out to be fits of
drunkenness after all, calling the girl, to our great horror, “a
gin-drinking toad.” This so kindled my mamma’s wrath, that she declared
she wondered how he could ever stand there and say such things; and that
she should be very much astonished if his words did not rise up in
judgment against him some fine day or other; for that she was never more
convinced of anything in her life than that we should eventually find
Mary, as she had before said, and would say again, and she did not care
who heard her--a perfect treasure. Though she could not help allowing
that the fits were a slight drawback, and went somewhat against the
girl; still, as she could not reasonably be expected to have more than
one every six weeks, and would be sure to have warning when they were
coming on, why really my mamma said she could not see that there was so
much for a body to put up with, after all.

Edward observed, that, considering all things, he was afraid he should
have a good deal to put up with, from a certain quarter that was not a
hundred miles off. On which my mamma said something that has escaped me;
and Edward replied, I can’t exactly at present call to mind what. So
that I felt that a storm was gathering round about my head, and that the
house (if I may be permitted to use so strong an expression) would
shortly be too hot to hold me. Accordingly, with my usual sagacity in
such matters, I went up and kissed dear mamma, and got her to go down
stairs and look after the tea, for I was anxious to separate them, as I
saw they had every disposition to get together by the ears, which I was
sure would give rise to a great deal of pain on both sides.

At tea, little was said by either party--and, indeed, it was a sorry
meal. For my poor mamma had been thrown into such a flurry by Edward’s
cruel, ungrateful treatment, that she could not for the life of her lay
her hands upon the lump-sugar, and we were obliged to put up with moist,
to which Edward has a horrid dislike--and Mary had forgotten to take in
the milk while she was in her fit--and mamma had had the misfortune to
cut the bread and butter with an oniony knife, which gave my husband’s
stomach quite a turn; so that everything went crooked with us that
evening, and we were not sorry when the time came for mamma to leave. As
she was putting on her bonnet, she told me that Edward had behaved so
rude to her, that he really had quite upset her, (to use a figure of
speech,) and she didn’t know how she was ever to manage to get home, for
she positively couldn’t say whether she was walking on her head or her
heels.

When Edward and I retired for the night, the sheets which were intended
for our bed having been burnt to tinder, and having no others aired, we
were obliged to sleep between the blankets, which in no way allayed poor
Edward’s irritation. So that, from the time we went to bed to the time
we got up in the morning, he did nothing but amuse himself by fancying
all sorts of uncomfortable things, and would have it that the feather
bed was damp; and said that it was ten to one if my mother’s treasure
(as he delighted to call her) didn’t make us both get up in the morning
with churchyard coughs at least--or, more probably, with such a severe
attack of the rheumatics, as we should never get over to our dying
days--and which, he nearly frightened me out of my wits by declaring, he
confidently expected would render us both cripples for the rest of our
lives. Indeed, he actually, at one time, went so far as to jump up, and
swear that he would not rest until he took the bed from under me.

I trust I acted during this severe trial as became a woman with her
proper feelings about her; for, as this was the first serious difference
Edward and I had had since our union, I thought it best to let him know
that I was no longer the mere child that he seemed to take me for, and
that I was not going to allow myself to be trodden under foot like a
worm, (not I, indeed!) For I felt that, if I did not at once give him to
understand to the contrary, he might be induced to presume upon my
naturally retiring disposition; so I kept on sobbing as if my heart
would break half the night through, and did not allow him to have any
quiet until I had made him confess that he was in the wrong--and that he
had carried his airs too far--and that my dear mamma, at least, had done
all for the best--and that he should be very happy to see her to dinner
to-morrow--and that her greatest enemy could not but say, that she
meant very well.

Thus my courteous readers will see that my first serious trouble in life
arose from servants; and I can assure them it took such a hold of my
mind, that it made me more than once half repent of the vows of eternal
love and constancy that I had made to my beloved Edward; and wish in my
heart (though sincerely attached to my husband) that I was not a married
woman. For at the time we really believed Mary to be subject to fits,
and this made my naturally kind heart bleed with pity for the deceitful
minx, so of course I could not bear to find my husband running the girl
down whenever he had an opportunity. Though when my courteous readers
find out, as I did, that I had a perfect viper for a maid-of-all-work,
and learn that I had taken an habitual drunkard to my bosom, I am sure
they will sympathize with me rather than blame me, for all I did for the
creature; although, perhaps, they will hardly believe it possible that
any one could have been such a fool as I was.

The next morning, Mary came to me with her eyes full of tears to
apologize for her drunkenness; while I, in my natural simplicity,
imagined that the cat was speaking to me on the subject of her fits. She
hoped I would look over it this time, as she did not mean to get in the
same state again; on which I told the toad that it was no fault of hers,
as it must be plain to every rightly constituted mind, that she could
have no control over herself in that respect. She said trouble had
brought it upon her, and that it came over her so strong, at times, that
she had no power to stand up against it; all which I told her was very
natural, (as, indeed, it appeared to me then;) and I asked the creature,
in my foolish innocence, if she ever took anything when she found the
fit coming upon her. To which she replied, that in such a state she was
ready to fly to whatever she could get at; but that her stomach was so
weak, that anything strong was too much for her, and upset her directly;
and that it was the reason of her leaving her last situation. Upon
which, in a most simple-minded way, I told the tippling hussy that I
didn’t think it much to the credit of a clergyman to have turned her
away for that, and I actually was stupid enough (the reader, I’m sure,
will hardly believe it) to tell her that whenever she felt the fit
coming on, never to attempt to check it, but to let it have its due
course. And that if she would come to me, I would gladly give her
whatever she might take a fancy to, (and a pretty advantage she took of
my offer, as the courteous reader shall shortly see.)

As soon as Edward had gone to business, I ran upstairs and put on my
things, and stepped round to my dear mamma, to tell her all that had
occurred, and how Edward was exceeding sorry for what he had said, and
had asked me to grant him my pardon; and to prevail upon her to forget
all that had passed, and to come to dinner that day. My mamma commended
me for having been able to bring my husband to a proper sense of his
conduct; and said, that she was not the person to bear animosity to any
one, she was sure; though she could not help saying that the names he
had called that poor servant girl, under her awful affliction, had given
her quite a different opinion of his character, and that she was certain
she should never be able to like him half so well again. However, she
would try and wipe it all from her mind and begin anew, if it was only
for the sake of her own sweet Caroline, (that is myself.)

After we had taken a mouthful of some of the best cold roast pork I
think I ever tasted in the whole course of my life, and touched a little
stout by way of luncheon, my mamma told me that she was glad that things
had turned out as they had, for it had made her again determine to
present Edward with the valuable old painting of her noble ancestor,
F--tz-R--msb--tt--m, who is said to have come into England with the
Conqueror, and which relic, after Edward’s conduct last night, she had
made a vow should never belong to a man who could behave so unlike a
gentleman as he did. But now as all was straight, and I was her only
child, and the picture had been handed down in her family for years, and
she had always looked upon me as the heir-at-law to it, she would have
it brought round and put up in some part of the house where it could
always be before my eyes, and be continually reminding me of my station
in life, and that the noble blood of a R--msb--tt--m flowed in my veins.

When we went to look at the portrait of my noble ancestor, we could not
help remarking what a fine head it was, and that any one to look at him
might tell, from the likeness, that he was related to our family.
Though when I said I should wish to have it put up in the drawing-room,
and observed that it would be a nice thing to have hanging there on our
“At-home” day, as it would show Edward’s friends that he had not married
an ordinary person, and prove to them that our family were not mere
mushrooms who had never been heard of, mamma remarked that, if that was
the case, it would be better--now she thought of it--to have our
ancestor done up and cleaned a bit, as she said a good deal of the
nobility that was in his face was lost from its being so dirty as it
was; and that if he was fresh varnished and had a new frame, he would
certainly form a splendid ornament for our drawing-room, on our
“At-home” day. And that she knew a young man who had just started in
business in the H--mpst--d R--d, who would do it so cheaply that she was
sure Edward could not grumble at the expense.

My dear mamma kindly undertook to get all this done for me, though how
she was ever to manage it, she said, was more than she could tell; for
what with the house and the business she had more on her hands at
present than she knew what to do with; and, as she truly observed, she
was so full of one thing and another, just now, that she really did not
know which way to turn.

I thought it best to tell mamma not to mention the subject that evening
at dinner to Edward; stating that I wished it to come as a little
surprise to him when the picture was brought home. For to tell the
truth, I was afraid that she might get talking of her noble ancestors
before him; and as I knew that Edward did not entertain the same
elevated opinion of the R--msb--tt--ms as my mamma justly did, and had
even once gone so far as to call our gracious William the Conqueror, and
his noble knights, a set of vagabond robbers, (upon my word, he did,) I
thought it would be better not to let my dear mamma have her heart again
wrung by another difference with my husband.

We had a very nice plain family dinner that day--a mere simple joint;
but _so_ delightfully cooked--done to a turn--and sent up _so_
respectably, that it did me good to see it; and I really thought that
our toad of a Mary would turn out a blessing to us, after all. I had
told my mother that she must not look for any fuss and ceremony, or
expect us to treat her like a stranger, as she was too near and dear a
friend for us to put ourselves out of the way for her. Everything went
off _so_ admirably no one can tell--and the plates were _so_ nice and
hot--and Mary waited at table _so_ well--and looked _so_ clean and
respectable--which really, considering she had had to cook the dinner, I
was quite surprised and delighted to see. After dinner, dear Edward
_would_ open another bottle of port, and made himself _so_ happy, and
got to be _such_ good friends with mamma. Though I really sat on thorns,
(if I might be allowed the expression,) all the evening; for knowing
their disposition as well as I did, I was in fear that every minute
something would come on the carpet which would upset all, and make them
get knocking their heads against each other again; so that when the dear
soul left us, I said to myself, “I really haven’t been so happy for a
long time.”

Edward was in such a good humour, that when we went to bed, I thought it
a capital time to tell him about the picture, and got him to promise
that he would not go on about it before mamma; for though _he_ might not
care about our noble ancestors, still, as mamma’s family was her weak
point, it was very natural that she should cling to the R--msb--tt--ms
as fondly as she did. Besides, I told him that he had a nasty way of his
own of saying what he thought--and that if he didn’t take care, he’d
find he’d get into nice trouble through it some of these fine days; and
I was sure that if I went speaking my mind upon every occasion, my
conscience would not allow me to rest quiet in my bed.

Mary went on pretty well for a day or two, when we noticed that the
creature began to get rather confused in her intellects, and to be quite
beside herself, so that she scarcely seemed to know what she was about,
and kept breaking everything she put her hands upon. I, in my innocence,
began to fear that another fit was coming on, and I should be having the
minx laid up insensible on my “At-home” day--and a nice pickle I should
be in then, goodness knows. So, with my usual good nature, I asked her
if she would take anything, and whether she thought a little brandy
would put her straight. On which the hussy really began to see through
my mistake, and to understand that I was treating her for fits instead
of drunkenness; and said that she was sure I was very good, and that she
would try a glass--which the minx had, and pretended that it quite took
her breath away to drink it (the deceitful cat!)--and she actually had
the face to come to me and beg another one that evening, saying that the
first one had done her a world of good. So that there was I, really and
truly encouraging the horrid wretch in the worst of vices; and, as I
heard afterwards, she went about the neighbourhood, saying that it was
no fault of hers, and that I took a delight in making her tipsy; and the
worst of it all was, that it was on that very evening the picture came
home.

Dear mamma had stepped round to tell us, that now he was fresh
varnished, the dear man looked so heavenly in his new gilt frame, that
she felt as if she could hug him. She was in tremendous spirits about
it, and told Edward that it was an ornament that she knew she did wrong
in not presenting to the British Museum, for that a descendant of the
very same family had been Mayor of Norwich three times running. But
Edward behaved himself like a perfect gentleman, and only said “he
should hardly believe it.” A little after eight, the young man from the
H--mpst--d R--d came round with the picture and the bill himself, which
dear Edward (who, I regret to say, is naturally mean, being penny wise
and pound foolish) said he didn’t consider quite so cheap as my mother
had made out. However, when he saw the picture, he seemed to think
nothing more of it, and told the young man to go and get some green
cord, so that he might have our ancestor hung, as soon as possible, in
the drawing-room.

When the young man returned, Edward and myself went to the top of the
stairs with the candles, while that good-for-nothing creature, Mary,
(whom I’m sure we none of us suspected of being in liquor at the time,)
helped the young man up with the picture, and mamma went behind, so that
she might take care that it wasn’t grazed against the banisters; and
kept telling Mary, for goodness’ sake to mind what she was about, for
that she would not have anything happen to it for all she was worth.
Mary, who was in the advance, and consequently obliged to come upstairs
backwards, went on very well at first, (though how she ever could have
managed to do so, in the state she must have been in, is a wonder to us
all.) They had nearly reached the first landing when one of the
stair-rods being out, the carpet was loose, and we were horrified by
seeing Mary’s feet slip from under her, while the drunken cat let go
her hold of the picture, so that she might save herself from falling.
But what with the liquor the toad had taken on the sly, and what with
that which I had given her that afternoon, and what with coming upstairs
backwards, she had lost all command over herself, so that, after making
one or two vain attempts to keep her balance, we saw her, with horror,
pitched head first into the middle of our noble ancestor; at the same
time knocking backwards the young man from the H--mpst--d R--d; who
would, I am sure, have been killed on the spot, had he not luckily
broken his fall by tumbling right upon dear mamma,--who was
providentially not more than half-a-dozen stairs from the bottom--and
taking her legs from under her, they all three fell one a-top of
another, right into the hall--amidst the screams of my mother, the
crashing of the frame of our noble ancestor, and (I regret to add) the
laughter of my husband. I immediately rushed to poor mamma’s assistance,
confidently believing that she hadn’t a sound limb in her poor body. And
when I tell my courteous readers that I found my dear parent was nearly
smothered underneath the young man from the H--mpst--d R--d, (and he
must have been eleven stone, if he was an ounce,) and that that slut,
Mary, (who was certainly no sylph,) was right a-top of the young man, I
am sure they will agree with me, that it was a perfect miracle how dear
mother was ever able to bear it all as she did--for I am happy to say,
she was only dreadfully bruised, and that, indeed, no one was seriously
hurt by the fall but my poor noble ancestor, from whom my mother dated
her descent, and who was literally broken to bits--though my poor dear
mamma (as she afterwards told me) was black and blue all over for weeks.
At the time, she thought little of her own sufferings, for she was
chiefly concerned about the injuries her noble ancestor had sustained;
and when she saw the head of her family all knocked in, as it was, her
grief knew no bounds. My husband, I am ashamed to say, did not seem to
be at all affected by mamma’s distresses; and in a nasty, contrary
spirit, no longer grumbled about paying the money for the picture, when
it was broken; and, I verily believe, looked upon the accident as a good
bit of fun; though I should like to know how he would have liked it
himself, the brute!

As soon as we were in the parlour, and my poor mamma had got round
again, Edward observed--with a sarcastic grin, that I could almost have
shaken him for, I could--“What a pity it was that that poor girl, Mary,
should be so subject to fits!” On which my mother burst out, saying,
“Fits, indeed! she never saw such fits. It was nothing more nor less
than downright drunkenness, that it was; and how she could ever have
been imposed upon as she had been, she really couldn’t say; but that it
had all come upon her like a thunderbolt immediately after she saw the
girl staggering up the stairs; and that, indeed, to tell the truth, she
had had her suspicions before; and that on the day of our arrival from
Brighton, it struck her that there was a strong smell of spirits in the
house, but which, at the time, she attributed to the French polish of
the new furniture.” And then I mentioned that the way in which Mary had
drunk the brandy I had given her that afternoon--just as if it was so
much water--struck me as looking very queer at the time; and that I was
sure, that if it wasn’t for our “At-home” day being so near at hand, I
should bundle the baggage into the streets directly without a moment’s
warning--only half a loaf was better than no bread at all--and it would
never do to be left in the house without any one to open the door on
such an occasion.

Consequently, as I felt I was in the slut’s power, I thought it would be
better to avoid having any words with her, but to go on treating her
civilly until such time as I could turn her neck and crop out of the
house.

The evening before our “At-home” day, while I was busy in the parlour
with a warm flat-iron, taking the creases out of my white satin bridal
robe--which had got dreadfully tumbled in the carriage going to church,
and which mother had told me I ought to receive my friends in on the
morrow--mamma came round to see us, (Edward was going over some of his
filthy law papers,) and with her customary good nature--for she is
always thinking of something for us--brought with her a darling little
pet of a camphine night-lamp that she had picked up that day for a mere
nothing; and which she pointed out to dear Edward would be an immense
saving to us in the course of the year, as it gave the light of two
rushlights, and only cost one farthing for forty-eight hours. And then
the dear old soul, who has always had an excellent head for figures,
entered into a very nice calculation as to how many rushlights went to
the pound, and how many we burnt in the course of the year, and what the
expense was; and then putting them against the expense of the camphine,
she proved to Edward as clearly as ever I heard anything in all my life,
that, with a very little extra, he might be able to buy me another new
bonnet every year out of the difference. And then the good old body
filled the lamp with some camphine she had brought in her pocket in a
phial; and lighted it, just to show us how a child of ten years old
might manage the thing, it was so simple; and to let us see how, when
turned down, it gave the light of a rushlight, or when turned up, it was
nearly equal to that of a mould candle, and certainly superior to that
of a long-six. But Edward (just like a lawyer) observing that it smoked
when the flame was high, thought such a circumstance might be a slight
drawback to its beauty; but dear mamma said that of course no one but a
maniac would ever be such an idiot as to go turning it up that height.

As soon as mother had gone, Edward retired to bed, and left me sitting
up to finish my dress, and new cover my white satin shoes, which had got
dreadfully soiled with the mud in going to and from the carriage on our
wedding-day. And besides, I had to clean my white kid gloves, and to let
them hang up all night so as to get the filthy smell of the turpentine
out of them before the morning. It was long past midnight before I had
finished the better part of what I wanted to do; and as I could hear
Mary (who had been waiting up to clean the room overnight so that she
might have nothing to do in the morning to prevent her being ready
dressed long before the visitors came) knocking the things about below
in a dreadful ill-humour at being kept up so late; and as it wasn’t
worth while having a fresh candle put up just to do the few little odd
jobs that remained, I rang the bell for Mary; and lighting mamma’s
darling little pet of a camphine lamp, (drat the thing! I wish it had
never come into the house,) went up stairs, taking my things with me.
When I got to my room, I hung my beautiful bridal robes on the back of a
chair, and put out Edward’s nice clean white trousers ready for him in
the morning. I could scarcely keep my eyes open while Mary was undoing
me, and was so glad to get into bed, that I quite forgot, before doing
so, to turn down the camphine lamp. But just as I was dozing off, I
remembered it, and told Mary, who was hanging up my things, to be sure
and turn it down before she left the room; instead of which, the minx,
(who I’m sure was half-fuddled at the time,) went and turned the thing
the wrong way, like a stupid; so that there were both dear Edward and
myself sleeping in a state of blessed innocence, while the filthy thing
was smoking away as hard as it could go all night, just for all the
world like the funnel of a steam-boat, and sending out soot enough to
have smothered a whole regiment. As I had got all the next day upon my
mind, luckily I awoke as soon as it was light in the morning; and when I
turned round, and saw my dear Edward’s face an inch thick of black, I
really thought at first that I was in bed with a filthy negro. So I gave
him a good shaking, and woke him directly; and no sooner had he rubbed
his eyes open and looked at me, than the wretch burst out laughing, and
declared that I looked just like a chimney-sweep. I gave a scream, and
jumped out of bed like lightning--if I might be allowed so strong an
expression--and there was the whole place one mass of smuts: and the
beautiful clean dimity curtains, that had not been up a week--and the
white counterpane--and the toilet-covers--and the window-blinds--and the
towels--and my face--and my night-cap--looking just as if they had been
all washed in Indian ink; and, what nearly drove me right out of my
senses--my beautiful white satin bridal robes were actually the same as
if some evil-minded person had been dragging them--just for the pleasure
of the thing--up and down the chimney, and positively would have induced
one, at first sight, to believe that a body had been led to the altar in
bombazeen. I declare the beastly sooty stuff was everywhere,--there was
a shovelful, at least, in my white satin shoes--and my white gloves were
like black kid both inside and out--and it had even got right up my
nostrils--and I do verily believe that a quantity had gone down my
throat, for I generally sleep with my mouth open. But what annoyed me so
that I could hardly bear myself was, that Edward kept chuckling at all
my distress, (just like a man--for of course he knew _he_ wouldn’t have
the cleaning of it.) But when I showed him the grubby state that his
ducks were in, I was quite glad to see how angry it made him. And then
of course it was all his mother-in-law’s fault bringing him her
bothering twopenny-halfpenny lamps; and I really thought I should have
been obliged to go into hysterics when I heard him say that the next
time he caught my dear, respected mamma in his house, he’d pack her off
with a flea in her ear!

And a pretty situation I was in, to be sure. I daren’t for the life of
me open my mouth, for fear that the hussy should leave me at a moment’s
notice, at such a time, when, bad as she was, it was impossible to do
without her; and there were my bridal robes spoilt before my very eyes,
and I didn’t know how on earth I was ever to receive my friends, as I
really hadn’t a single thing to put on.




CHAPTER IV.

     HOW MARY TURNED OUT, AND HOW HER GOINGS-ON ON MY “AT-HOME” DAY
     NEARLY DROVE ME WILD.

    “Ay, laugh, ye fiends! laugh, laugh, ye fiends!
    Yes, by Heaven! yes, by Heaven! they’ve driven me mad!
    I see her dancing in the hall--I see her dancing in the hall--
    I see her dancing--she heeds me not!
    Yes, by Heaven! yes, by Heaven! they’ve driven me mad!
    Yes, by Heaven! yes, by Heaven! they’ve driven me mad!”
                  HENRY RUSSELL, “_The Maniac_.”


As soon as I had recovered my scattered senses, I rang the bell for
Mary; and when she came up, I declare I could scarcely go near her, she
smelt of drink so horridly, though wherever she could have got it at
that hour I couldn’t, if any one had given me a hundred guineas, make
out at the time. (But I wasn’t long in finding out where my lady went to
for it, as the reader will presently see.) And I do verily believe that
such a toad never entered a respectable woman’s service before.

With my usual command over myself, I requested her to take my bridal
robe down, and shake all the smuts off of it in the garden, and to be
sure and take care what she was about with it; as white satin was not to
be picked up in the streets every day. When the minx brought it up
again, I declare I never saw such a grubby thing as it was; and it
looked for all the world like as if it was made out of what the
gentlemen call Oxford mixture; for she had been trying to rub the blacks
off with a damp duster! And yet, it wasn’t advisable to throw it in her
teeth, though I could have given it her well, I could. There was a very
handsome and expensive dress completely spoilt, and made as pretty
ducks-and-drakes of as anything I ever saw. It was of no use to any one,
and only fit to be given away.

I was obliged to put on a high-bodied, quiet-looking, dark,
snuff-coloured silk dress, which mamma had bought me before my marriage,
as it was a good-wearing, serviceable colour, and one that would not
show the dirt. But my troubles were doomed not to cease here; for when I
was _tout-arrangé_, and really thought that I didn’t look so bad, after
all, I found that nothing with any spirit in it was safe in the house
from that abominable toper of a Mary of mine; and that she had
positively been drinking all my _Eau-de-Cologne_, and filling the bottle
up with turpentine; so that when I went to pour some of the perfume down
my bosom, I actually saturated my things with the filthy stuff, and
smelt just like as if I had been newly French-polished.

But, alas! her thievish propensities didn’t stop here; for if she knew
where any drink was kept, she would never rest easy until she had got
it--no matter how. As for locks and keys, bless you! they were of no
more use than policemen. Actually the hussy couldn’t even keep her
fingers off mamma’s excellent cherry brandy; but must go picking and
stealing even that; and (as I found out afterwards, to my cost,) filling
up the bottles with cold tea and new young cherries instead, (the nasty
toad!) And the reader will soon see how it turned out.

I thought I should have gone mad on my At-home day. I really expected it
would have been the death of poor, dear Edward. And I’m sure, for
myself, I made up my mind that, come what would, I’d never go through
another such a time, not even if I was to be made a princess. I declare
the door-step had never been touched--nor the hall or the stairs
swept--not even so much as a mat shaken--nor a thing dusted--so that you
might have written your name on the backs of the chairs and tables in
the drawing-room--and it was past twelve in the day before I could get
that slut Mary even to clear away the breakfast things out of the
parlour--and I had the greatest difficulty in the world to make her go
and clean herself, for she was just the same as when she got up in the
morning, not fit to be seen. I had to light the fire in the
drawing-room, and dust the place, dressed as I was, myself, or else it
would never have been done.

I don’t suppose I could have finished a quarter of an hour before the
first double-knock came to the door, and that slut Mary not down stairs
to answer it. So I rushed up to her room and bundled her down as quick
as I could; though she had been at her old tricks again, I could see,
and wasn’t really in a fit state to be trusted to go to the door; but
what could I do? They had knocked again, and I had only just time to sit
myself down, and take up one of the books off the drawing-room table,
when the street-door was opened. And then, to my great horror, I heard
Mary talking, at the top of her voice, to the visitors in the passage;
and demanding to shake hands with them, and calling them a set of
stuck-up things, because they wouldn’t. So I ran down as fast as my legs
would carry me, and looking at her as if I could have eaten her, told
her to go down stairs _directly_, and remember who she was, and what she
was, and where she came from.

I found it was poor Mrs. B--yl--s and her lovely girls that Mary had
been insulting in this dreadful manner, and who were quite flurried at
her strange goings-on. Luckily, Edward was up-stairs dressing, or
there’s no knowing what he wouldn’t have done. And I declare, there was
not a single person that came into the house that day that she didn’t
insult, in some way or other; and twice I had to go down to her; for she
would go, singing and dancing about, like a downright maniac; and it was
only by promising her some warm spirits and water in the evening, that I
could in any way get her to keep her tongue to herself.

I was so upset, that instead of my friends congratulating me on my
improved appearance, they did nothing but tell me that they could
perceive Mary was worrying me dreadfully, and that they had never seen
me look so bad before. And they kindly advised me to get the jade out of
the house as soon as possible, saying, that if she were a servant of
theirs, they should expect to be burned alive in their beds, for that
drunken people were always so careless with their candles. While dear
mamma (who is naturally a long-headed woman,) said, that every morning
she confidently expected to find the place destroyed by fire, and that
her dear children had perished in the flames. All which took such a hold
on my mind, that I couldn’t get a wink of sleep for a week afterwards,
and was always fancying I could hear the boards crackling, and kept
getting up and going over the house, shivering, in my night-dress, to
satisfy myself that all was safe.

We were, at one time, as many as fourteen in the drawing-room, and all
of them highly desirable acquaintances, being people very well to do in
the world; when mamma, who is so proud of her cherry-brandy, would
persuade our friends to take some--if it was only a glassful. So (bother
take it!) I had to get my keys, and trot downstairs for her stupid
cherry-brandy--which I’m sure I couldn’t see the want of, for there was
plenty of excellent red and white wine on the table; and that was good
enough for any one any day, I should think. Besides, I had set my mind
upon keeping the cherry-brandy quietly to myself, as there were only two
bottles of it, and Edward had just laid in several dozen of port and
sherry. However, I returned with one of the bottles and an agreeable
smile on my countenance to the drawing-room, little thinking that I was
about to present some of my best friends with a glass of that horrible
wash that that tipsy, thieving Mary had filled up the bottle with. Then
giving it to mamma, I told her pleasantly that she should fill the
glasses, and have all the credit of it to herself. So, the good, dear
old lady did as I said, and handing them round, observed to Mrs.
L--ckl--y, (who is the wife of Edward’s best client, and of highly
genteel connexions,) that she should like her to try that; for she
flattered herself that she would find it very fine, and not to be got
everywhere, as she had made it herself, after her own peculiar way; and
that she felt convinced that any pastrycook would gladly give her twenty
guineas for the receipt any morning; and that she always made a point of
using none but the very best cognac that could be got for money,
together with the finest Morella cherries that were to be picked up in
Covent-garden Market. When they had all got their glasses, dear,
unconscious mamma sat down with a self-contented smile, waiting for the
approbation and eulogiums which she confidently expected they would
overwhelm her with. As soon as Mrs. L--ckl--y had taken one cherry and a
spoonful of the wash, all the rest followed her example. Dear mamma
observing that Mrs. L--ckl--y made a wry face after it, (as well the
poor thing might,) said, “I’m afraid the brandy is too strong for you,
Mrs. L--ckl--y; but you needn’t be afraid of it, my dear--a bottle of
such as that would not hurt you, I can assure you.” Now, really, I shall
begin to think you don’t like it, if you don’t finish it. On which Mrs.
L--ckl--y (who is an extremely well-bred woman) answered, “You’re very
good--it is very nice, I’m sure.” And then the poor thing put another
spoonful of the filthy stuff to her lips. Whereupon poor, dear mamma,
(who was determined not to be balked of the compliments she innocently
thought she was entitled to) tried to prevail on some of the other poor
things (who really, considering all, had borne it like martyrs) to go on
with theirs. But Mrs. B--yl--s politely excused herself by saying she
thought it was not quite so rich as some of mother’s that she had had
the pleasure of tasting before, and that sweet woman, Mrs. C--rt--r,
said that she was afraid the brandy had gone off a little, (and so it
had, with a vengeance.) On which Edward (lawyer like), fancying
something was wrong, and thinking it a good opportunity for teasing his
poor, dear, innocent mother-in-law, took a glass himself, and had no
sooner tasted it, than, instead of swallowing it, like a gentleman, he
spit the whole into the fire-place, declaring he had never in all his
life tasted such beastly trash. Whereupon, dear mamma, who believed that
he only said as much to annoy her, took a glassful likewise; and
scarcely had she put her lips to it, than she gave a scream, and the
poor, dear soul spluttered it all out of her mouth again,
exclaiming--“Oh that shameful minx of a Mary! I know it’s her!--the
drunken hussy! If she hasn’t been and drunk all the brandy, and filled
the bottle up again with what I’d swear was nasty filthy cold tea and
unripe cherries.” No sooner had she made the discovery, than all the
poor dear ladies who had partaken of the filthy mixture uttered a
piercing scream, while that unfeeling wretch, Edward, rushed out of the
room, and I could actually hear the brute bursting with laughter on the
landing-place.

All the dears agreed with poor mamma--who was boiling over, (if I might
be allowed the expression,) that it was very shameful conduct on the
part of the maid, and hoped that mamma would not let it take any effect
upon her on their account, as really they didn’t mind about it. And then
taking a glass of sherry wine a-piece, just to take the taste out of
their dear mouths, they all hurried away, and in less than ten minutes
we were left alone in the drawing-room.

Then we both agreed to make that cat, Mary, finish before our very eyes
the whole of the other bottleful, (which we made up our minds she had of
course served in the same manner,) and directly after she had eaten it
all up, to give her warning, as it would be the best way of punishing
her for her wicked goings-on. So down stairs we went, and having got the
bottle out of the store-room closet, we made the wretch devour the whole
of it on the spot--though from the ready way in which the minx resigned
herself to her fate, and from the effect it had upon her shortly
afterwards, (for it only made her more tipsy than before,) to our horror
we found out that she had never touched _that_ bottle at all--and,
indeed, she told us as much when she had drunk up every drop, and had
the impudence to say she should like to be punished again. So we
immediately gave her warning, and told her not to think of sending to us
for a character, indeed. But in the evening, the cherry brandy we had
forced her to take, made her so dreadfully bad, that we had to carry her
upstairs and put her to bed again. All of which was a mere nothing to
us, compared with the good humour it put Edward into; who kept telling
us, with a nasty vulgar giggle, that we ought to be ashamed of ourselves
for driving the poor girl into another fit; and he said he hoped that
dear mamma would take care that the next servant she engaged for him
wasn’t subject to epilepsy, (an aggravating monster!)

Next day I stepped round to mother’s, to consult about the best means of
getting a new servant as soon as possible; for I was determined on
finding some excuse for packing Mary out of the house directly I was
suited. Mamma, however,

[Illustration: _“Are you not Irish?”_

_“Och! no, Ma’am I’m Corrnwall sure!”_]

after what Edward had said, declined, with great, and, I must say,
becoming dignity, interfering in the business further than sending any
maids she might hear of round for me to look at--as she wasn’t going to
put herself in the way again, indeed, of being reproached, as she had
been, by her own dear child’s ungrateful husband. But though mamma was
kind enough to send me several servants from the tradesmen in the
neighbourhood, yet I never saw one for days; for that baggage, Mary,
kept setting them against the place, and saying everything that was bad
of us directly they came to the house.

One morning, however, as Edward was going out, he met one on the
door-step, and sent her into the parlour to me. She was a tall, strong,
big-boned, clean-looking, tidy, and respectable ugly woman, and looked
as if she wasn’t afraid of work: so with my usual quick-sightedness l
saw at a glance that she was just the person to suit me. When I asked
her what her name was, she answered, with a curtsey, and a peculiar
twang that was far from agreeable: “Norah Connor, sure.” To which I
replied: “I am afraid you’re Irish, and I’ve an objection to persons
from that country”--(mother had told me never to take an Irish woman in
the house on any account.) But the woman answered in a tone so meek,
that one would have fancied butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth: “Irish,
did ye say? Och! sure now, and isn’t it Cornwall I am?” And so, with my
customary sagacity, I at once saw that I was mistaking the Cornwall
brogue for the Irish one; for having been bred up in London, I could not
of course be expected to be particularly acquainted with the dialects of
other countries,--if, indeed, I except that of “_Le Belle France_.”
After asking her the usual questions as to “tea and sugar,” and wages,
and cooking, and character, and, in particular, sobriety--in all of
which she seemed to be quite _comme il faut_ (as they say in
Boulogne)--I arranged with her that I would go after her character
directly her late mistress could see me.

Next morning, when we came down, the parlour fire was not even laid, and
all the supper-things were on the table just as we had left them
over-night. For Mary had got up when I rang the up-stairs bell, at six
o’clock, to a moment, and though she had come down and got the
street-door key out of our room, she must have gone up-stairs
immediately afterwards, and tumbled into bed again, for it was clear
that she had never shown her face in the kitchen that day.

Edward flew into a tremendous passion, and rushed up to her room, where
he thundered at the door so that I thought he would have broken it off
its hinges, telling the lazy thing to get up and leave his house that
very instant. As soon as she came down, Edward, being determined to see
the creature clear off the premises, before he left for business, went
and got her trunk and band-box himself, and paying her her wages up to
the very day, bundled her into the street, things and all, where the
brazen-faced hussy stopped ringing at the bell, and declaring that she
would summon us if she did not receive a month’s warning; until she
collected quite a crowd all round the house, and kept telling them in a
loud voice, so that all the neighbours could hear, that I had behaved to
her worse than a slave-driver would--and that she had been
half-starved--and forced to live on sprats, (as I’m a living woman,
she’d only had them once!) and that I took a delight in making her
tipsy, (which the courteous reader knows to be a wicked falsehood,) and
that we either couldn’t or wouldn’t pay her her wages. Nor did she cease
her abuse, until Edward got the policemen to make her move on; which she
did, vowing that she would have it all out before the magistrate, and
make us suffer for it.

So that there was I in a pretty state, indeed, left without a servant,
and obliged to have a charwoman in until that wild Irish cat--whom I, in
my blessed innocence, fancied to be a Cornwall woman--was ready to come
into the house, (I wish to goodness gracious, from the bottom of my
heart, that I had never seen the face of the fury,) and I hardly know,
I’m sure, how I shall be able to wait a whole month before telling the
reader all about the shameful way in which she went on towards me--and
how I really thought the vixen would have had my life before she had
done with me.




CHAPTER V.

OF THE PRETTY STATE I WAS IN INDEED AFTER MARY LEFT ME.

    “Oh, Mary, dear Mary, how lonely and drear
    The scenes now ungrac’d by thy presence appear!
    Each hall in my dwelling I fondly explore,
    And list for thy footstep, but hear it no more.
                            Oh Mary, dear Mary!”
                                            “DEAR MARY.”


No sooner had Edward packed Mary out of the house, than I suddenly found
myself thrown into as nice a mess as any lady could well be in. Twist it
and turn it which way I would, the blacker it appeared, and I positively
thought that I must have sunk under it. But really my husband is so
hasty, (though I say it who should not perhaps,) that he never will look
before he leaps; and the consequence is, that he is invariably plunging
himself headlong into all kinds of pickles, (if I might be allowed the
expression.) Indeed, my own dear Edward having no more control over his
passions than “a roaring lion seeking whom he may devour,” of course
could not keep his tongue between his teeth, but must go flying at our
Mary before the proper time came for getting rid of the girl. And dear
me! if one has not got strength of mind enough to put up with the faults
of other people for a day or two, I should like to know how, in the name
of goodness gracious, we can ever hope that men will wink when we walk
out of the right path ourselves--or that, if we are so hard upon other
persons, how can we expect that they will bear less heavily on us when
they sit in judgment upon us. Though for myself, I must say, that I have
always made it a rule to let the poisoned arrows of calumny go in at one
ear and come out of the other.

I’m sure if Edward had only looked at poor Mary’s love of tippling with
a proper spirit, he would have seen that it was not so much for a body
to stomach after all, and that perhaps the love of drink, bad as it is,
is but a trifling vice as compared with the love of tobacco--to which my
husband, I regret to say, is a disgusting martyr. And such being the
case, Edward ought to have remembered that those who ride about in
glass coaches should not throw stones; for of all habits I must confess
that smoking, in my eyes, is the most dreadful, and that if I was called
upon to choose whether I would sooner be addicted to liquor or tobacco,
I really think I should be inclined to take to drinking in preference.

Not that I was insensible to the wickedness of our Mary’s ways, but
still I do think that my husband might have looked with more Christian
charity upon the poor thing’s infirmity, until my other servant was
ready to come into the house, and then he might have bundled the
creature into the street, as she deserved indeed. For in her absence I
was so terribly put to it, that really I should have blushed if anybody
could have seen me making the shifts I did.

My Irish servant of a Norah (drat her!) couldn’t come in for a week or
so, and the consequence was, that I was left all alone without anybody
to assist me,--which pulled me down so low that it took several weeks to
set me fairly on my legs again. For considering that I had Edward’s
dinner every day on my mind, and the whole house thrown upon my hands,
it was more than I could bear.

All that precious day long I had to answer every tiresome knock at the
door myself, and really just because we had no maid, persons seemed to
take a delight in calling. But thanks to goodness, they were all
tradespeople, whom (of course) I did not so much care about, though I
only opened the door to them just wide enough to take the things in, for
fear of the neighbours, who I knew would be but too glad to laugh at me
in my distress. Indeed, the only person that I showed myself to that day
was the butcher’s boy, when he called for orders; and who being a mere
lad, I didn’t mind about seeing me; and I got him, for a glass of
table-beer and a penny, to take a letter to dear mother, asking her to
look round immediately, and call and see her darling angel (that is
myself) in her affliction, which I knew she would be happy to do.

But as it was a wet day, poor dear mother was so long before she dropped
in upon me, that I made certain she wouldn’t come that morning, so I set
to work to prepare Edward’s dinner. As he is fond of made dishes, I
thought I could not do better than give him a sweet little toad in the
hole, especially as it was very easy to make, and I could get the baker
to take it with him to the bakehouse when he left our daily bread in the
afternoon. While I was making the batter to cover the toad with, a
tremendous double-knock came to the door, which nearly made me drop the
egg I had in my hand at the time. As of course I could not, in the state
that I was, go up to the door myself and say I was not at home, I
thought it best to let them knock away until they were tired; and it was
not until I had heard them do so, I should say, seven or eight times at
least, that I went to the kitchen window, and pulled aside the blind I
had let down, when who should it be but poor dear mother, whom I had
kept waiting all that time in the pouring rain, and who, when she got
down in the kitchen, I found to be literally dripping. Having taken off
her pattens, and put her umbrella to dry in the back kitchen, I threw up
the cinders, and made such a nice comfortable clear fire for her, and
got the dear old soul to drink off a glass of scalding-hot spirits and
water, which, I assured her, would not hurt her, as it would keep the
cold out nicely, and which she consented to take in the light of
medicine, as she said she was certain she wanted it; adding, that she
felt as if every bone in her body was broken to bits, and she was sure
that on her road she had picked up the shivers somewhere.

I told mamma all that had taken place, and how hastily Edward had
behaved, without showing the least regard to my feelings, and had set
upon poor Mary for all the world like a Turk. But dear mother told me,
with her usual kindness, that she wasn’t in the least surprised at my
husband’s forgetting himself, as it was just what she had expected from
him all along; for, from the insight she had had into Edward’s character
of late, she was afraid that I should have a good deal more to bear with
from him, and that my time was likely to be a hard one. Still, as the
good soul very truly observed, it was no business of hers, and she was
the last person to think of setting me against my husband; though, from
what I had told her, she could not help saying, that Edward certainly
did appear to her to be just like the rest of the men, and no better
than he should be; adding, that the best way would be for me to have an
understanding with him the very first opportunity, and tell him, that if
he couldn’t conduct himself more like a rational creature for the
future, that he had better manage the house himself. She begged me, in
saying this, however, to remember that she had no wish to figure in
quarrels between man and wife; observing, with great truth, that as I
had made my bed, so I must lie upon it; and that if my bed were strewed
with thorns, however uncomfortable it might be, still it could be no
fault of hers, though she pitied me from the bottom of her heart; for,
as she said, it must be a sad change for a poor dear that was so
thinskinned as myself; adding, with great kindness, that if she could
possibly have known half as much of Edward before my marriage as she did
now, that she certainly should have thought twice before she had given
her consent for the house of the Sk--n--st--ns to be grafted upon the
family tree of the B--ff--ns.

Dear mother, however, promised not to desert me in my trouble, and
undertook to procure me a charwoman, who would come in until that Irish
fury of a Cornwall hussey was ready to be with me. Mrs. Burgess[A] was
the name of the charwoman, and mother said that I should find her of
great use and comfort to me, as she was a married woman, though she had
been deserted by her husband--poor thing!--who had run away to America
like a brute, leaving her with a fine family of ten young children on
her hands;--that she was a good, hard-working, industrious, stout-made
woman; and that the poor babes had nothing but the sweat of their
mother’s brow to subsist upon; and that it was only by doing a little
charing out and a little washing at home, that the poor creature was
enabled to keep her head above water. And mother said, that tired and
wet as she was, still she would make it a point that very afternoon to
go round to the Mews, where Mrs. Burgess lived, and leave word at her
loft, even if she couldn’t see her, for her to come round to me the
first thing the next morning; adding, that all the poor thing would want
would be eighteenpence a day, two pots of beer, and a glass of spirits
before leaving at night.

When Edward came home from business, he wouldn’t make the least
allowance for the state I was in, but seemed determined to find fault
with everything, and appeared to expect that the house should be in the
same apple-pie order as if I’d a regiment of maids of all work at my
heels. What made him much worse, too, was, that the baker had forgotten
to send round the dinner when it was done, so that he had to wait some
trifling twenty minutes until I could get some one to run for it; and
when it came home, I declare my nice little toad in the hole was as
black as a coal, and quite burnt to a cinder. My husband’s behaviour
during dinner nearly broke my heart; and he cut me up so dreadfully,
that I really couldn’t say whether my head was on my shoulders or not.
Indeed, all that evening he was one too many for me, for I declare he
went on just like one beside himself. He made his dinner off bread and
cheese, and kept grumbling all the time, saying that he would have been
better treated if he had dined at a common “_Slap bang_” in the City,
(those were his very words--though what on earth a “slap bang” can be I
haven’t the remotest idea). So I left him to his filthy cigar and bills
of costs as soon as I could, and went down stairs and sat by myself all
alone by the kitchen fire, as I wished to put an end to his spiteful
goings on, and I knew he wouldn’t follow me down stairs, and get pulling
me over the coals there.

I took good care that he should feel the want of a servant as much as I
did, and that he should know that the poor creatures were useful members
of society, if they were only properly treated; for I made a point of
keeping him without a mouthful of tea till near bed-time. Though I only
punished myself in the end, for the cup that “cheers but not
inebriates,” as the poet says, wouldn’t allow him to get a wink of
sleep, and he was so restless and cross all the night through, that he
only kept getting in and out of bed, and walking up and down the room,
and opening the windows, and raving at me like a wild Hottentot let
loose from Bedlam, declaring that I was quite an altered woman of late,
and that he couldn’t tell what on earth had come to me that day. When I
told him that nothing had come to me but dear mamma, he flew out most
dreadfully, and said that mother was a snake in the grass, who came
poisoning my mind and picking holes in his coat directly he was out of
the house; and that, as he knew that one bad sheep would destroy a whole
flock, he would take precious good care that my mother should never ruin
_me_, for he would forbid her the house the very next day; adding, that
if I encouraged her in coming there, that he would sell the furniture
off and run away from us both, and allow me a pound a week for the rest
of my life,--which I recollect at the time struck me as being very
ungenerous on his part, and not what I should naturally have expected
from him; for I thought that, under the circumstances, he really might
have made a greater allowance, when he knew that I could get nobody to
help me.

In the morning, Mrs. Burgess came as soon as it was light, and it having
been, I should say, four o’clock before I closed my eyes, I felt she was
knocking me up by waking me so early. However, I slipt on my wrapper,
and went down stairs and let her in. I told her to do the parlour
immediately, and take care and black-lead the stove before lighting the
fire, and after that to wash-up the dinner and tea things I had left
overnight, and then just to clean down the door-step a little (for
goodness’ sake!) for it was quite grubby to look at--and to sweep the
hall and shake the mats a bit, for the passage was as full of dirt as it
could hold, and I was really quite ashamed to see it--and I also told
her to take in a ha’p’orth of milk when the milkman called--and to have
the breakfast ready by eight o’clock precisely, as Mr. Sk--n--st--n was
a very punctual man. Then I went up stairs just to finish my night’s
rest; and no sooner had I jumped into bed than I fell off again so fast,
that I lay there till it was as near ten o’clock as it could be.

Mr. Sk--n--st--n was in a tremendous passion at what he chose to call my
want of respect in allowing him to lie in bed so long, and when he came
down to breakfast he was as surly as a bear with a scald head, (as the
phrase runs.) He must needs go flying in a passion because the baker had
left the wrong bread--for Mrs. Burgess, unfortunately, had taken in a
cottage for breakfast--and he would have that it was my fault, and not
the woman’s, saying, that I ought to have told her that he never eat
anything of a morning but “bricks.” As he was going to office, I asked
him whether he would dine at home that day, and what he would have; but
he was very sulky, and said that he wouldn’t trouble me again, for that,
as he was going into the City, he would take a chop at Joe’s; and when I
inquired of him who Joe was, he told me it was the name of a chop-house
keeper near the Royal Exchange; on which I remarked that he ought to be
ashamed of himself to speak in that familiar way of such people. This
made him laugh, so that I thought it was a good opportunity to make
friends with him, and told him that if he would promise to come home,
that I would get him a beautiful leg of mutton; but he said he thought
he should like a nice shoulder, well browned, with onion sauce, for the
legs we had had in our house lately had not been fit to be seen. But,
knowing that he was partial to one with veal stuffing, I told him that
if he would only come home to dinner that day, like a good man, I would
give him such a treat--I would promise him to put on the table as fine a
leg as he had ever beheld, for I intended to stuff it for him, and would
take care that it should be beautifully dressed, and quite a picture to
look at--all of which seemed to please him very much, and he left quite
in good humour.

On going down into the kitchen to prepare the dinner, Mrs. Burgess
really seemed to me to be a very superior sort of body; and I thought
that she was one of the best disposed and most honest of women, until I
found her to be quite the contrary; for at first I really felt
interested in the poor thing, on account of her being the mother of such
a large family, and all by herself without a husband. I was quite
pleased to hear the good woman go on as she did all that day,
continually telling me that servants were such a bad lot, and that
nothing was good enough for them, and how little gentlemen thought of
what we poor women had to undergo for their sakes. And she likewise told
me the whole history of how shamefully Mr. Burgess, who drove a cab, had
behaved towards her--never treating her as he ought to have done--though
she had always been a good wife to him, (the wretch,) and had seldom or
never flown in his face, (the brute,)--that her life had been one
continued struggle with him from morning to night, she might say, and
that after the hard battles they had had together, his going to New
Orleans under the disguise of coming back in a few weeks, she must say
was a return that she never expected. Upon which I remarked, that for
Mr. Burgess, to run away to America in the way he had done, certainly
did appear to me to be going a little too far. And then she was so kind
as to hope that Mr. Sk--n--st--n would never treat me in the same way,
although, as she very truly said, she was afraid that the men were all
alike, and that they really were not fit to be trusted out of your sight
for two days together.

I couldn’t have left Mrs. Burgess more than five minutes, and was just
going to put myself to rights a bit, when I heard a most tremendous
scream in the kitchen, and on going down, found the poor woman was
nearly fainting, (the deceitful baggage!) for she told me that she had
just seen a great rat as big as a Shetland pony scamper across the
scullery. This, of course, put me all of a twitter, and made my blood
run quite cold down my back, for I didn’t know that there was a rat in
the place; and, as Mrs. Burgess observed, with great truth, but bad
grammar, “we hadn’t never so much as a cat in the house, and that if I
didn’t keep my eyes about me, I should find myself swarming with vermin
before I knew where I was.” Then she was kind enough to tell me that she
had got a beautiful Tom at home, which I was perfectly welcome to if I
liked; for that though she loved the animal as much as if it were her
own flesh and blood, still dear mother had been such a true friend to
her, that she really couldn’t think of keeping the cat from me;
especially, as she said, Tom was such a capital mouser, that he’d soon
clear the place, and besides he was so tame, and had been so well
brought up, that he was more like a Christian than a dumb animal; for I
should find that he _would take anything from me_, (and so I did, with a
vengeance; though I really believe now that the cat had no finger in it
after all; but that that smoothfaced old Mrs. Burgess had only brought
the animal into our establishment for the worst of purposes--and what’s
more, that the tale she told me about the rat was all a cock-and-a-bull
story, and made up just to get her Tom into the house, so that she might
use the cat as a cloak for her own shameful practices.)

After Mrs. Burgess had taken in the milk that afternoon, the poor
woman--who appeared very fond of me--would run round and fetch her fine
Tom; and when she brought him, I do think he was the prettiest pet I
ever saw. He was _so_ black, that really his coat was for all the world
like your hat; and the dear had got three such beautiful white stockings
on his feet, and as fine a frill round his neck as I ever beheld in all
my life. Nor can I omit to mention Tom’s sweet pretty whiskers, which
stood out on each side of his face just like two shaving brushes; so
that, indeed, taking the animal altogether, I really don’t think I ever
saw so fine a cat. I declare he was quite a duck.

Edward was very good humoured, for once in a way, when he came home to
dinner that evening; and it was quite a treat to see him at table, for I
never knew him eat so much since we’d been married. I must have helped
him three times if I helped him once. As for myself, I do think that it
was the sweetest and tenderest leg I ever put my lips to, so that even I
was tempted to make so hearty a meal, that I felt quite heavy after
dinner, and could scarcely keep my eyes open till tea-time.

When I went down stairs to see about the tea things, (Mrs. Burgess
always left immediately after she had cleared away the dinner,) it was
very strange I couldn’t find the milk anywhere, though I saw Mrs.
Burgess take it in herself; and when I went to get out the butter, if
that wasn’t gone as well--a whole half-pound, as I’m a living woman, of
the best fresh, at sixteenpence, that I had sent Mrs. Burgess for that
very evening! This put me in a nice state, for I had no more fresh in
the house, and could give Edward nothing else but salt with his tea,
which I knew he couldn’t bear the taste of; though, even when I went to
look after that, I could very easily see that some thief had been
fingering it into the bargain. I made up my mind, of course, that it was
that wretch of a Tom, and I tried to catch him, so that I might rub his
nose on the dresser, but the thief was too quick for me, and I could
have given it him well, I could.

I thought it best, for the sake of the poor cat, not to say a word to
Edward about it; so I made him a round of nice hot toast, and put on it
as little salt butter as I possibly could, in the hopes that he wouldn’t
discover it. But my husband no sooner put the toast to his mouth, than
he declared it was like cart grease; and when I told him about the loss
of the milk and fresh butter, he threw it all in my teeth, and I caught
it just as I had expected. After which we got to high words again, (drat
it,) and I said that I had nothing to do with the bothering milk and
butter, and I didn’t see why he should go laying it all on my back in
the way he did. What occurred afterwards I will not state; for it is all
forgotten, though I cannot say forgiven; for I remember--but never
mind, I wont say anything more about it at present.

But my distresses about that brute of a Tom were not to rest here, for
what between him and my husband, they led me a very pretty dance I
declare, and to as nice a tune as I ever heard in all my life.

In the morning, when I went down stairs to see about dinner, Mrs.
Burgess told me that she couldn’t think what on earth could have come to
the remainder of our mutton, for it wasn’t to be found anywhere, and she
really believed that rogue of a Tom of hers must have walked off with
our leg in the night; adding, that she regretted to say that he had been
a dreadful thief ever since he was a kitten. But I told her that it
couldn’t be the cat, because he had left no bone behind him. Still, as
she very wisely observed, most likely he had buried it in the garden, or
somewhere about the house; and so indeed it turned out, for Mrs. Burgess
brought me the bone the very next day, picked as clean as if a Christian
had done it, and which she said she had found in the coal-cellar early
that morning.

This loss of the mutton annoyed me very much, for Edward had set his
mind upon having the remains of it with pickles for dinner that day. So
I was obliged to send Mrs. Burgess out to get a pair of nice soles, and
a pound and a quarter of tender beef-steaks, so that I might stew them,
(meaning, of course, the steaks, and not the soles.)

In the middle of the day one of Mrs. Burgess’s little boys came to see
her, and I was surprised to find what a nice, clean, sharp, intelligent
lad he was for his station in life; for his mother said that, young as
he was, he could turn his hand to anything. And he couldn’t have left
the house above half-an hour, when up Mrs. Burgess came, apparently
quite out of breath, and told me that while she was throwing up the
cinders on the kitchen fire, that plaguy Tom had jumped on the dresser
and galloped off with a whole sole and a large piece of the
beef-steak--and that though she ran after him as quick as she could,
that he had scampered up the kitchen stairs, and she only got to the
garden in time to see him leap right over the wall with the things in
his mouth. After a few moments’ deliberation I went to the bedroom
closet, and getting Mr. Sk--n--st--n’s little gold headed cane,
determined to pay master Tom out well for his sly tricks, (I can’t bear
deceit, whether in cats or human beings;) and hiding the stick behind my
back, I went out into the garden, and called Puss! Puss! Puss! in my
sweetest voice, as if I had got something nice to give him; when lo! and
behold, my gentleman, who had found his way back, came marching up from
the kitchen as coolly, I declare, as if he had been doing nothing at
all, (as indeed I verily believe now the poor thing had not.) When he
came within arm’s length of me I gave him one or two such good smacks as
he wouldn’t forget in a hurry--though it hurt me a good deal more than
it did him, to lay my hands upon _the_ poor dumb animal.

When Edward found it all out, of course he flew into a passion, as
usual, and went on in such a way that I was obliged to tell him, even
though he was my husband, that he was no man; and he vowed that the
animal shouldn’t pass another night under his roof, and that Mother
Burgess (as he would call her) should take the brute and drown it that
very night. Then he had her up and told her as much; and the poor woman,
with tears in her eyes, consented to do so; for, as she very truly said,
it was so dreadful to have a thief in the house, that if Tom wasn’t made
away with, she was afraid we might get to suspect _her_--and that after
what we had lost, much as it might go against her, she would do as Mr.
Sk--n--st--n desired, and see the creature safe at the bottom of the
R--g--nt’s C--n--l before she went to bed that night.

When I went down to let the woman in the next morning, I was never so
surprised in all my life as to find her fondling the cat, whom she said
she had found on the door-step with the very brick-bat tied to his neck
which she told me she had put on before throwing him into the water
overnight--though how on earth he could ever have managed to have got
out of the canal alive and crawled back to our house with that great
thing round his neck, is more than I’ve ever been able to comprehend.
Mrs. Burgess agreed with me that it was perfectly wonderful; adding,
that after all she had put upon him, the poor creature’s life certainly
must have been spared by some superior power for some hidden purpose; so
she begged of me in a most touching manner to try poor Tom for a few
days more, as perhaps it would be a lesson to him and he would go on
better for the future. I really hadn’t the heart to refuse, though I
determined to keep it a secret from Edward, for I knew that he wouldn’t
rest easy in his bed until he had killed the poor animal. So I kept Mrs.
Burgess’s Tom unknown to my husband until it was impossible to keep him
any longer, for really the things that creature would do, and the
articles he would steal, no one would credit. It seemed to be more like
the work of a Christian than a dumb animal. If we had a fowl for dinner,
and I missed it in the morning, the cat was sure to have taken it;--if
the tarts disappeared, the cat had eaten them;--if the flour ran short,
the cat had upset it;--if I missed a silver spoon, the cat must have
hidden it;--if any of the crockery or glass was broken, the cat had
knocked them down;--if the cask of table ale was empty long before its
time, why the cat had pulled out the spigot. In fact, nothing was missed
that the cat didn’t take, and nothing was broken that the cat didn’t
break.

And so things went on until just before my Irish servant came in, when
all of a sudden I missed a whole pound packet of Orange Pekoe Tea, which
Edward had brought home from the City on purpose for me. This Mrs.
Burgess assured me Tom must have taken for the mere sake of taking; for
she herself had seen him scampering about the house like a mad thing
with a bit of paper in his mouth, and which she had no doubt now was
what the tea had been done up in--adding, that it really was quite a
mercy that it hadn’t been a five-pound note, as, of course, it would
have been all the same to a creature so dishonest as he was.

When I told Edward all about it, he called me a fool for my pains, and
said he could see that the cat was too good a friend to my old charwoman
for her to wish to get rid of him. As for Tom’s stealing the tea, it was
all a pack of fiddlesticks, and he verily believed that he had never
been into the canal at all, and that some fine day I should find old
Mother Burgess at the bottom of it. However, he said he would soon put a
stop to that game, for he would lock the cat up in the back attic that
night, and take it with him to office in his blue bag in the morning;
and when he got it down there we should soon find out who was the thief.
I told him it was a very good plan, if he would only keep it a secret
from Mrs. Burgess, and take care not to go letting the cat out of the
bag before he started.

[Illustration: “_The Cat did it!_”]

Accordingly, I took that naughty Tom up stairs with us when we went to
bed, and locked him up in the back attic, safe away from the larder. But
not a wink of sleep could we get, for the creature kept on scratching
and mee-yowing for better than two hours, and then we were nearly driven
out of our wits by hearing a tremendous smash, which Edward said was
that brute of a Tom flying at the windows, and told me that if I didn’t
jump out of bed directly, that they would all be broken before I could
say the name of Mr. John Robinson--for that as the cat was clearly going
wild, I had better go up and see what I could do to quiet him. As I went
up stairs, I was all of a tremble, and couldn’t keep the candle steady
for fright, for I could hear the beast flying about the room, and
swearing away like a mad thing, as he was. The very moment I opened the
door, he flew at me, for all the world as if he had been a young tiger,
and dug his claws (which, I can assure my readers, were just like so
many darning needles) so deep into me, that I gave a loud scream, and,
letting the night-candlestick fall, I flew down stairs in the dark, with
the brute clinging fast to my night-dress. When I got to our room,
(though I can’t tell how to goodness I was ever able to do so, I’m
sure,) the dragon let go his hold, and ran under our bed, where he
stopped, spitting and growling away like anything, and with his eyes
like two balls of phosphorus, and his tail as large as a Bologna
sausage, or my sable boa. Edward took the poker, and I got a broom, and
we kept poking and sh--sh--sh--sh--ewing away as hard as we could, for
near upon half an hour, expecting every moment that he would spring out
upon us again; in fear of which I kept as close as possible behind dear
Edward, who, I must say, displayed more courage, under the
circumstances, than I ever gave him credit for, and behaved like another
Grace Darling in a moment of such imminent peril. Nor was it until he
had thrown a whole jugful of water at the cat, that the savage brute
shot out of the room, and rushed down stairs.

The next morning I was telling my husband what a nice little boy that
was of Mrs. Burgess’s, and how fond he seemed to be of his mother, for
he always came to see her every day just before my usual time of going
down stairs to see about dinner, when Edward said that he saw what cat
took the meat now; so he’d just take old mother Burgess unawares, and
very soon show me whether our Tom was the thief or not. So when we went
down to breakfast, dear Edward sent Mrs. Burgess out to get a pint of
milk for him, and as soon as she had left the house he slipt down stairs
and brought me up the basket that she came with upon her arm every
morning, and which, he said, he had discovered stowed away in our copper
in the back kitchen. Inside the basket we found nearly the whole of the
beautiful beef-steak pie that we had scarcely touched for dinner the day
before, and a bottle of pickles that had only been used once, and a bar
of yellow soap and a bag of flour and two eggs wrapt up in one of our
best glass cloths. Then putting them all back again, Edward hid the
basket in the plate warmer under our sideboard; and when my lady came in
with the milk, he told her that if she would be so good as to bring up
the cold beef-steak pie and the pickles, that he thought he could take a
mouthful of it, (no one but a man would ever have thought of such a
thing.) Without saying a word, down goes the brazen-faced creature and
up she comes with the dish in her hands, and scarcely a bit of the pie
left in it. “Oh, mum,” she cries, without even so much as the shadow of
a blush on her face, “only do just look here, mum! If that thief of a
Tom hasn’t been and devoured all this beautiful pie of yours, and he
must have knocked down the pickles, for there was eversomuch broken
glass on the floor when I came in this morning. Oh, mum! really it is
too bad. Upon my word, that cat is so cunning that I really shouldn’t
wonder at anything he did next.” On which Edward very cleverly asked her
whether she would wonder if, suppose the next thing Tom did was to put a
whole beef-steak pie into her own basket, together with some pickles and
some soap, and flour, and a glass cloth, and an egg or two, just to send
home as a treat to his old friends her children. Then taking the basket
from out of the plate warmer, he told her to look at it, adding, that he
himself didn’t wonder _now_ at anything the cat had done since she had
so kindly brought him to our house, and that really she ought to take
care of the animal, for it was clear that Tom was as good as a fortune
to her, and she could never want so long as she could get a situation
for her cat in the same family as herself. Whereupon the impudent thing
put her apron up to her eyes and pretended to cry, saying that she was a
poor lone woman, with ten children, and it was a hard matter to find
bread for so many mouths, (as if that was any affair of ours.) So Edward
gave her the basket with all our things in it, like a stupid, and packed
her out of the house as quick as he could, saying, that if she did not
keep a sharp look out, she would find some fine morning, that, like her
cat, she wasn’t born to be drowned.

Indeed, I was not sorry that we got rid of her on the spot, for Norah
was coming in the evening, only I couldn’t, for the life of me, all that
day, get over the idea of Edward (a lawyer too!) being silly enough to
let the deceitful creature go off with one of our best glass
cloths--though I made up my mind to put it down in the housekeeping next
week, and make him give me the money for a new one, if I died for it.




CHAPTER VI.

     WHICH TREATS OF MY IRISH SERVANT NORAH CONNOR, AND OF THE FEARS I
     REALLY HAD FOR MY LIFE WHILST SHE WAS WITH ME.

    “My heart’s with my Norah, for she is my treasure,
      And, sleeping or waking--in sunshine or shade--
    From morning till nightfall--from nightfall till morning--
      I think of my Norah--my own Irish maid.”
                            “MY HEART’S WITH MY NORAH.”


Edward put the cat into his blue bag, and took it down to his chambers
with him that morning, all along with his law papers, (a dirty man.)
When I asked him if he hadn’t better take them out and put them in his
pockets, as Tom might go digging his claws into them, he told me they
were only two or three rough bills of costs for his clients, and Tom’s
claws couldn’t possibly hurt them; for as he hadn’t settled the things
yet, it was no matter how much he stuck it into them. Then the stupid
man giggled like a ninny, although, as I told him, I couldn’t see
anything to giggle at, and that if in the end he found his bills of
costs ripped up, that he’d laugh on the other side of his mouth, I’d be
bound. So off he went with his cat, like another Whittington, to catch
the Waterloo omnibus.

To say the truth, I was quite delighted when I saw my dear husband clear
out of the house with that odious Tom in his hand; for really our
household expenses had been so heavy for the last two or three weeks,
that I hadn’t been able to get even so much as a bit of riband out of
the money that Edward allowed me to keep the house with. And upon my
word, what with my husband’s being so dreadfully close-fisted as he
was--and Mrs. Burgess’s not being able to keep her fingers off
anything--and that Tom’s love of clawing hold of whatever he came near,
I declare I had been so dreadfully pinched of late, that I positively
didn’t know which way to turn, and it made me so uneasy that I couldn’t
rest in my bed. Besides, to be tied down to a penny as I was, was such
an uncomfortable position for a body to be in, that I felt it was high
time for me to get up and look about me; and I even began to have
serious thoughts of keeping all the kitchen stuff to myself, for I was
sure that our maid must get at least a new silk bonnet every year out of
our dripping pan--and that too, when I would willingly have given my own
head for it. Moreover, dear mother had advised me always to keep a sharp
eye fixed on our grease-pot; for if I didn’t, I should find that every
bit of candle I had in the house would run away as fast as if there was
a thief in it, as the maids would take very good care that I hadn’t any
“dips” of a morning in my candle box, and that my “compositions” would
never be more than five and six in the pound.

Norah came in that evening with her things in a bundle in her hand; and
I found her such a nice, hard-working body--always cleaning up or doing
something--never tired nor minding how much I put upon her--and
positively working like a galley-slave from morning till night for
me--all of which was so delightful to see, that I really thought I was
suited at last. Indeed, she was so quick over her work, that after I had
made her scrub all the house well down, from top to bottom, and clean
all the paint, and take up and beat all the carpets, and give all the
furniture, and tins, and coppers, and stoves, a thorough good rubbing, I
declare the mere everyday work of the house was literally a flea-bite in
her eyes, (if I may be allowed the expression.) I was hard put to it to
find some odd jobs to keep her fully employed; for I had no idea of
paying servants the wages I did to support them in idleness and
allowing time to hang so heavy on their hands that they must needs sit
all the evening picking their fingers to get rid of it. A very
praiseworthy and charming point, too, in Norah Connor’s character was,
that she was not at all nice about her eating, for as long as the poor
ignorant thing had oceans of potatoes, (to use an expressive figure of
speech,) she didn’t care about anything else; so, of course, with my
usual kindness, I let the good, hard-working soul have just what she
wanted, and, in addition, I used to make her eat up all the odds and
ends that were in the larder--for I never could bear waste, and didn’t
mind what I did for a servant so long as she went on well.

But what pleased me more than all the rest put together indeed, was Mr.
Sk--n--st--n’s disgraceful conduct about the business. For when I had
finished getting the house to rights--and he couldn’t help noticing how
different I had got it to look from the shameful state it was in under
Mrs. Burgess’s hands--my husband, in his blessed ignorance, supposed it
to be all Miss Norah Connor’s doing; and he even carried it so far as to
say to my very face he hoped that now I had got a good servant, I should
know how to treat her, and not go disgusting her with the place by
working the girl off her legs, as I seemed to have been doing. Of course
I told him it was like his impudence, indeed, and that I had no patience
with him, for though he was my husband he was no better than a child;
and I asked him, how on earth he could ever be such a stupid as to fancy
that the improved appearance of the house was all owing to Norah, and
how much work he thought _she_ would have done if _I_ had not always
been looking after her; for didn’t he know, that the mice would play if
the cat was away. I told him moreover I was sorry to see that he was
very ready to compliment _Norah_, though he never thought it worth his
while to trouble his head for an instant about the labour and fatigue
_I_ had gone through, in being obliged to keep dancing all the day long
at the girl’s heels, as I had done. And I wound up by requesting him
just for one moment to consider in his own mind what he thought would
become of the sailors and the ship, if the pilot didn’t look alive, and
neglected to put his best leg foremost for an instant.

But still, on second thoughts, I could hardly be angry with the poor
man, for, of course, what could _he_ be expected to know about the
plague and worry attendant upon servants. And the more I turned what he
said over in my own mind, the more convinced I felt that he was in the
wrong and that I was in the right; for, Norah Connor being a new broom,
it was only natural that she should sweep clean. Seeing, however, what
the woman was capable of getting through, and that she was never happy
unless she was doing something, it did seem to me to be quite a sin and
a wicked waste of money to go putting out our washing every week as we
did--especially as our garden would make such a sweet pretty
drying-ground for the things; and the prices I had been giving for
Edward’s shirts (4_d._ each), really did appear to me to be so
extravagant. Besides, it is such a dreadful feeling, when you are
conscious that you’re paying through the nose for things; and it seems
to be so unreasonable for people to make you do so, that it’s quite
wonderful to me how they can ever take the money from you in such a way.
So, when I came to reflect upon it, I was astonished how I could have
been such a stupid as to have gone putting out our washing as I had
done, ever since we had been married; and I lost no time in telling
Norah that I had forgotten to mention, at the time of engaging her, that
we always did our washing at home.

I was quite delighted to see how readily the worthy, industrious
creature consented to serve me. As a slight stimulus to further
exertions, I told her that I should allow her a pint of beer extra on
washing-days, which she seemed to be very grateful for; and I was glad
to find that a poor ignorant woman like her was not insensible to my
kindness. When it was all settled, I really felt quite happy at having
done my duty to dear Edward, for I knew that we were not in a position
of life that would warrant our going and flinging our money in the
gutter; and that, as his wife, I was bound to save every sixpence of his
that I could--especially as, by so doing, I should be able to get a few
little odd things for myself out of the housekeeping without bothering
him about them.

But though Norah Connor went on very well just at first, still, after a
time, she got so frightfully familiar and presuming, that really the
woman used to speak to me as if I was her equal; nor could I for the
life of me get her to pay me the respect that I felt was due to me.
Now, for instance, I remember, one morning, about two months before
little Annie was born, I rang the parlour bell, and when the woman came
into the room, I said, in a quiet voice, “I want a glass of water to
drink, Norah.”

“You want to drink a glass of wather?” she replied. “Well, I’ve no
objection. Drink away, darlin’!!

“Then,” I continued, blandly, “I should feel obliged if you would be so
good as to let me have one directly.”

“Let you have one?” she exclaimed. “Faith, an’ didn’t I give you
permission just now?”

This was past all bearing; but I restrained myself, and merely said,
with becoming dignity, “I didn’t have you up stairs, Norah, to know
whether _you_ would permit _me_ to drink a glass of water in my own
house, or not.”

To which she replied, as familiarly as if she were speaking to the
servant next door, “Well, by my sowl, when I heard you ask me if I’d let
you have that same, I thought you mighty stupid at the time. An’ what is
it you _do_ want, then, mavourneen?”

“Why,” I returned, in measured terms, remembering my station, “I want
what I told you before, as plainly as a person could speak--a glass of
water.”

“Well, then,” she cried, “by the powers! if I were you, I’d get it!
Isn’t there plenty down stairs, honey?”

“But,” I continued, calmly, “perhaps you will be kind enough, Norah, to
bring me a glass up _here_.”

“Och!” she exclaimed, “so, an’ it’s only a glass you’re wantin’ me to
fetch you, afther all! A glass wid nothin’ in it, is it you mane?”

“No,” I replied, almost losing my temper, “A glass of _water_, woman,
and _not_ a glass without anything in it! Do you understand me _now_?”

“Out an’ out,” she cried, with a nasty, low wink. “You’d be havin’ a
glass of wather wid somethin’ in it! Oh, go along wid you--wanting a
drop on the sly, now! You’re takin’ to the bottle, though, betimes this
mornin’, I’m thinkin’.”

I’m sure my fair readers can easily imagine that this threw me into such
a passion that it quite made my blood boil. I told the fury to hold her
tongue, and never dare to open her mouth about such things again. But
the impudent hussey only made me worse, for she kept declaring, “mum was
the word with Norah,” and saying, “that I needn’t go flurryin’ mysilf
about her findin’ out my sly thricks,” and telling me to be “asy, for
that the masther should never hear of it from hersilf.”

So that at last, I declare, I was positively obliged to run up stairs
into my own bed-room, in order to get rid of the creature. There I threw
myself on the sofa, in the most dreadful state of mind, I think, I ever
was in all my life; and, torn with all kinds of horrid ideas, I said to
myself, “Norah washes very well, it is true--but alas! what washing can
compensate me for this!”

What vexed me, though, even more than Norah, was, that when I went to
tell my husband, on his return from business that evening, about how the
woman had insulted me, he wouldn’t hear a word of it, and said, like a
wretch, he was sick and tired of my complaints against the maids, and he
never set foot in the house but I had always got some long rigmarole
tale about the servant’s bad conduct; adding that it was impossible they
should be invariably in the wrong; and he firmly believed it was quite
as much, if not more, my fault than theirs. And he even had the
impudence to declare, (I thought it best to let him have his own way for
once, and go on till he was tired,) that he had quite worry and bother
enough of his own at office, and that when he came home, fagged and worn
out, to his own fireside, he was determined at least to enjoy peace and
quiet at his hearth; and then he asked what on earth I thought he had
married me for, (as if I was going to tell him;) when the cruel wretch
said--it was only to have a happy home! I told him that it was a nice
insult to my own face, indeed, and that he seemed determined to find
fault with everything that day, as nothing, however good it was, would
please him; whereupon Mr. Sk--n--st--n went on, I’m sure, without
knowing what he said, for he declared that I was a millstone round his
neck, and the torment of his life; adding, that he begged me once for
all to understand, that he would _not_ be pestered every day with my
bickerings with the servants; and he had made up his mind that if ever I
opened my mouth to him again on the subject, that he would put on his
hat that very moment and go and spend his evening at some tavern, where
at least he could _enjoy_ himself. Besides, he told me, he could see
that Norah was worth her weight in gold to any person who knew how to
humour her; for the house had never been so clean ever since we had been
married; and the way in which the girl dressed a potato made her so
invaluable in his eyes, that he wasn’t going, he could tell me, to have
her driven out of the house by me. So that anybody might have seen, like
myself, with half an eye, that my gentleman didn’t care so much about
“_his own fireside_” after all, and instead of “_his hearth_,” indeed,
being uppermost in his mind, that really and truly his stomach was at
the bottom of it.

As for the matter of that Norah’s potatoes too, I’m sure I couldn’t see
anything so wonderful about them. But, of course, Mr. Edward must go
thinking them dressed so beautifully, just because they came up in their
jackets; though, for my own part, I never could bear the look of the
things in their skins; and what’s more, it wasn’t decent to have them
coming to table in such a state. And the next day I told my lady as
much, adding that she would be pleased to peel the potatoes before
bringing them to the parlour for the future, as they were only fit for
pigs to eat in the way she sent them up. Whereupon the vixen flew into
_such_ a rage, and abused and swore at me in _such_ a way, calling me
everything that was bad, and declaring that she would pay me out for it.
And then, in the height of her passion, the spiteful fury, with the
greatest coolness in the world, emptied all the dripping out of the
frying-pan she was doing some soles in, right into the middle of the
nice, brisk, clear fire, and created such a blaze, that I’m sure the
flames must have been seen at the top of the house. Knowing that it was
just upon our time for having the chimney swept, I felt certain that it
must be on fire; and when I rushed out into the garden, there it was,
sure enough, raging away, and throwing out volumes of sparks and smoke,
just like the funnel of a steam-boat at night-time--with such a horrid
smell of burning soot, that all the little boys came running from far
and near up to our door, and shrieking out, Fire! Fire! like a pack of
wild Indians.

When I went back into the kitchen the spiteful thing was impudent enough
to tell me just to look there and see what I had made her do wid my
boderations (as she called it), adding, “that it wasn’t herself though
that would be afther desarting me in my distriss.” Feeling, however,
that it was not the time to talk to her just then, I made her rake out
every bit of fire there was in the grate, and after that I told her to
run up to the top of the house with a couple of pails full of water, and
to get out on the roof and pour it all down the chimney as quick as she
could.

Up she went, while I waited below all of a twitter, expecting every
minute that I should have a whole regiment of fire-engines come tearing
up to the door, and putting us to goodness knows what expense for
nothing; when all of a sudden I heard the water come splashing down
right into the parlour overhead, and saw in an instant that that stupid
thing of a Norah must have got blinded with the smoke up above, and
mistaken the chimney, so that she had gone pouring it down all over my
beautiful stove in the dining-room. In an instant I put my head up the
kitchen chimney and hallooed out to her as loud as ever I could,
“No--rah! you must pour it down here.” I declare the words were scarcely
out of my mouth when down came such a torrent of water and soot, right
in my face and all over my head and shoulders, and down my neck, that
anybody to have seen me would have sworn some one had been breaking a
large bottle of blacking over my head; while immediately afterwards, as
if only to make matters worse, I heard a tremendous shout in the street,
and on running to the window I at once knew that the parish engine was
at hand: for, tearing along the pavement on the opposite side of the way
was a whole regiment of, I should say, twenty or thirty little dirty
boys pulling at a rope, and dragging along a nasty, ugly, red, trumpery
little machine, which, I’m sure, if the house had been in flames, could
have been of no more use to us than a squirt upon four wheels; while the
mischievous young urchins kept hurraing away as if it was a good bit of
fun, and little thinking that what was sport to them was (as with the
toad in the fable) near upon death to me, and a good bit of money out of
my pocket into the bargain.

When Norah Connor came down and saw what a pretty pickle both my cap and
face were in, the only thing she did was to cry out, “Och, murther, I
niver saw such a fright as ye look. What on airth have ye been gettin’
up to now?” and when I told her what had happened, she actually had the
impudence to add, that “sure an’ I wasn’t fit to be trusted alone for
two minutes together.” And then, seeing the parish engine at the door,
she wanted to go--and I declare it was as much as ever I could do to
prevent the fury--rushing out, and (to use her own words) “larruppin’
the Badle--just to tache the dirty blaggeard not to come robbin’ the
masther agin in that way.”

However, I was determined not to have the door opened; so after the
beadle had hammered away at it like a trunk-maker, for better than half
an hour, he grew disgusted and went off with those impudent young
monkeys of boys, and that stupid little watering-pot of a parish engine,
(if I may be allowed to use so strong an expression.)

When I went into the parlour, it was in such a dreadful state that
really it is impossible for me to give my readers any idea of the dirt
and filth about it--unless, indeed, I were to say that it was as grubby
as one of my father’s coal-barges. I saw that I had got a very pretty
week’s work cut out for me, and how Norah would ever be able to get
through with it all, I couldn’t say. As for my beautiful bright stove,
it was as rusty, and as brown as a poor curate’s coat, and the
hearth-rug was as black as the face of that impudent cymbal-player in
the Life Guards.

All I know is, that we had to take everything out of the place; and, as
I expected Edward to knock at the door every minute, I told Norah to
light a fire and lay the cloth for dinner in the drawing-room. When I
went up stairs to put myself to rights, it took me full half an hour,
and nearly a whole cake of Windsor soap, before even I could bear the
look of myself; and all the time I kept inquiring in my own mind, what I
had better do in the situation that I was; for positively what between
that Norah Connor’s impudence and spite, and my husband’s always taking
her side, I really didn’t know how to act; for I felt myself to be (as
Edward calls it) on the horns of a dilemma, and was so dreadfully tossed
about, that I couldn’t undertake to say whether I was on my head or my
heels. So after weighing it well, I determined upon breaking the
dreadful news to my husband as gently as I could, directly he set foot
in the house, and before he could catch sight of the mess in the
dining-room. Accordingly, as soon as I heard his knock I went and opened
the door myself, and while he was hanging his hat up in the hall, I
said to him--as kindly as I could, I’m sure--“Oh, Edward! Norah _has_
been going on so to-day, you can’t think.”

The more one does, however, the more one may, and I declare there was no
pleasing Mr. Sk--n--st--n that day anyhow; for instead of trying to
console me in my distress, he only banged his hat on his head again, and
saying, that “It was always servants, servants, servants! from morning
till night, and he’d be hung if he’d stand it any longer,” he bounced
out of the house again, slamming the door after him like a cannon, and
went sulking off to some filthy tavern in the neighbourhood, and never
thought fit to return till five-and-twenty minutes past midnight--when
he came home with his hair smelling of tobacco-smoke fit to knock one
down, and the bow of his stock twisted right round to the side of his
neck, and his intellects so muddled, that, do what I would, I couldn’t
get him to carry the night candlestick straight, so that he would keep
dropping the tallow-grease all over the carpets, as he went up stairs to
bed.

In the morning, however, I was determined to let him see that I was not
going to put up with his tantrums, indeed; so I never spoke to him all
breakfast-time, and although he made, I should say, some dozen advances
to me, yet I wasn’t to be carneyed over in that way I could tell him,
and so merely gave him a plain “Yes” or “No,” as short and snappishly as
I could; consequently, my gentleman hadn’t a very pleasant time of it,
and went off to business quite early, thoroughly ashamed of himself, I
could see. Nor did I choose to make it up with Mr. Sk--n--st--n until
the day came for him to go over the housekeeping expenses, when, as dear
Edward paid the money without a single question, I thought I might as
well forgive him.

Of course these little breezes didn’t make me relish Miss Norah Connor’s
airs any the better, though she certainly did her work very well, and I
couldn’t find any fault with her about that. Still, as I felt that she
was destroying my peace of mind, and was really _so_ impudent to me, I
couldn’t help considering it a duty I owed to my husband to get rid of
her as quickly as I could. As for her being an excellent servant too,
why of course I knew there was as good fish in the sea as ever came out
of it; and besides, Norah Connor really appeared to me to have been
brought up at Billingsgate.

But in a short time _that_ Norah gave me such a dose, that not knowing
what she might treat me to after it, I really should have been worse
than a child if I had taken it quietly. For one afternoon I was in the
kitchen, and if the hussey didn’t spill a whole basinful of water on the
floor, and then actually seemed in no way inclined to wipe up the slop
on the boards, so I begged she would just take a cloth, and do it
immediately. But the minx replied, “Och! sure an’ don’t it always soak
in, in my counthry,” which was a good deal more than I felt I ought to
put up with. So I told her very plainly, “that her country, then,
whatever it was, must be a filthy dirty place, and only fit for a set of
pigs to wallow in.” No sooner were the words out of my mouth, than she
turned round sharp upon me, and shrieking out, “Hoo! hubbaboo!” (or some
such savage gibberish), seized the kitchen carving-knife, which was
unfortunately lying on the table, and kept brandishing it over her head,
crying out, “Hurrah for ould Ireland! the first jim of the sa!--and a
yard of cowld steel for them as spakes agin’ her!” Then she set to work,
chasing me round and round the kitchen table, jumping up in the air all
the while, and screaming like one of the celebrated wild cats of
Kilkenny. I flew like lightning, and she came after me like anything. I
declare the vixen kept so close to my heels, that I expected every
minute to feel the knife run into me between my shoulders, just where I
had been cupped when I was a child; and the worst of it was there wasn’t
even so much as a dish-cover or a saucepan-lid near at hand that I might
use as a shield, and I couldn’t help fancying that every moment my gown
would go catching in one of the corners of the table, and that the fury
would seize hold of me by my back hair in a way, that even if I wasn’t
killed by the fright on the spot, would at least turn my head for life.
But, luckily, being a slighter-made woman than Norah, the breath of the
tigress failed her before mine did, and while she stopped to breathe a
bit, I rushed up the kitchen-stairs--shot into the parlour--locking and
bolting the door after me--and threw myself into the easy chair, where I
sat trembling like a blancmange, determined not to leave the room until
Edward came home, when I would certainly tell him all about Norah’s
wicked behaviour to me. And yet after he had told me so often as he had
that he hoped the subject would drop, I declare I was half afraid to
throw myself upon him for protection.

Nor was I mistaken in my man, for directly I said to Mr. Sk--n--st--n,
“I have a disagreeable duty to perform this evening, Edward: the fact
is, Norah--” the wretch cut me short, and cried out, “What! you’re at it
again, eh? Norah! Norah! nothing but Norah? Why the deuce can’t you
leave the poor woman alone for a minute.” And so saying, the aggravating
monster turned on his heel and went and dined out again.

This had such an effect upon me, that I felt I couldn’t touch a morsel
of the dinner, (although it was a rabbit smothered in onions, which I’m
very partial to;) so I sat in my chair, sobbing away, until Norah came
into the room to know whether she should bring the rabbit up. Yes; there
the minx was, as calm and cool as if nothing at all had happened; for,
to do the woman justice, her rage never lasted long,--when once it was
over, why she had done with it--and I really believe that she couldn’t
help it, after all. When the stony-hearted tigress saw me crying, she
came up to me, and laying her hand on my back in the most familiar and
feeling manner, said, in her usual impudent way, “Come, darlin’! don’t
be afther frettin’ the eyes out of your head now! Sure an’ isn’t it
mysilf that’s given you my pardin long ago if that’s what you’re
wantin’.”

I merely begged of her to leave the room, adding, that I was surprised
that she should think of coming up to me.

“Well, may be,” she replied, with all the coolness imaginable, “it does,
no doubt, seem mighty kind of me to do the likes, after all ye said and
did to me, too,--puttin’ my blood up, and well nigh makin’ me murther
ye, as ye did. Ah, it was too bad of ye--so it was! But you’re sorry for
it, I see, and Norah isn’t the girl to bear malice, sure.”

The woman’s impudence really took me so aback, that all I could do was
to echo her own words and exclaim, in astonishment, “I’m--sorry--for
it!”

“I’m glad to hear you say ye are, so I am,” she continued. “But sure an’
you’re my misthress, and I wont let ye be afther lowerin’ yersilf by
askin’ for my pardin, as ye are. So come, say no more about it,
mavourneen; but just thry to ate a bit, if it’s the smallest taste in
life now, or ye’ll go makin’ yersilf out an’ out ill for my sake.”

And really and truly the stupid thing would keep bothering me so, that
being frightened out of my wits lest I should offend her again, I had to
try and eat some of the rabbit, (which was very delicious,) nor would
she leave me until she had made me drink off a glass of wine, (which
certainly did me a great deal of good.) Indeed, altogether, the curious
compound of a woman pitied me so, and was so kind and attentive to me,
that I wished to goodness gracious she could only get rid of her
horrible temper, and then I should not be obliged to prevail upon Edward
to turn her out of the house, as I must.

The next morning, I took an opportunity, at breakfast, of getting my
husband to listen to what Norah had done to me; and then, if he hadn’t
the coolness to ask me why I had not told him all about it when he came
home to dinner the day before. But I made him heartily ashamed of
himself by reminding him that he had bounced out of the house like a
cracker directly I opened my mouth to him on the subject. Whereupon he
remarked that I had cried “Wolf” so often, that there was no knowing
when I was really in trouble.

However, though Mr. Sk--n--st--n has his little peculiarities, still I
must say he is not so very bad a man at heart, after all, for he looked
at Norah’s shameful goings on towards me in a very proper light,
observing, that after what I had said to a woman of her passionate
disposition, it was a mercy that she hadn’t killed me on the spot.
Though, of course, he couldn’t let well alone, but must go and side with
Miss Norah in the end; for he told me that I ought not to have insulted
the girl in the way I had, and that if, in her anger, she had put an end
to my life--though the woman would have suffered for it--still _I_
should have been nearly as much to blame as _she_ was; adding, that it
really struck him, that if I happened to get hold of a good, honest,
industrious servant, who merely wanted to be humoured a little, that I
must needs go driving continually at her weak point, until I forced her
out of the house; for I seemed to think that the wages were all that was
due from the mistress to her servants, forgetting that I had undertaken
to make my house their home, and that if I stripped it of all the
attributes of one, and converted it into a prison instead, where they
were to see no friends, and be kept to so many months’ hard labour, why,
it was only natural that they, poor things, finding I had forgotten my
duty to them, should, in their turn, forget their duty to me. Besides,
he added, I should remember that though there was little or no excuse
for the mistress’s non-performance of her part of the contract, still
some allowance should be made for the poor creatures, whose very
deficiencies of education made them often do wrong merely because they
had never been lucky enough to have learnt better. And then he had the
impudence to ask me what I should say if, when I asked my next servant
what kind of a character she could have from her last mistress, the girl
in return were to ask me what kind of a character _I_ could have from my
last _servant_? I told him that I should say that it was very like her
impudence, indeed, and tell her to get out of the house
directly--adding, that I never heard of such an absurd idea in all my
life before.

“Of course,” Edward replied, smiling at what I had said, (though I’m
sure I could see nothing to laugh at;) “and yet, perhaps, it is not
quite so absurd a notion as you seem to fancy. You forget that the girl
comes into your house to be subject to your every little whim and
caprice, and that not only her bread, but also her comfort and happiness
are dependent upon _your_ character; and it stands to reason, from the
very nature of things, that the slave must suffer more from the tyrant,
than the tyrant can possibly suffer from the slave.”

I told him very plainly that I had no patience with him, talking in such
a way about tyrants and slaves, indeed, and that they were sentiments
only worthy of a low radical meeting. I was quite pleased, however, when
I dumbfounded him, by asking him how he ever thought society would get
on upon such dreadful principles?--adding, that for my own part, I would
have everybody who went putting such horrid ideas into the poor ignorant
things’ heads drawn and quartered as they used to be in the good old
times. And I told him, too, that as he seemed to know so much about the
management of servants, I should just like to hear how he would behave
to Miss Norah after chasing me round the table with a knife in her hand,
as she had; and that of course I supposed he would carry out his fine
principles with her, and go making the toad a present for it--just as an
encouragement for the future. But he merely replied, that he should do
no such thing; adding, that I should see how he would act, for he would
have her up then and there, and talk to her. Accordingly, he rang the
bell, and in my lady came.

“Shut the door, Norah; I want to speak to you,” he began; and when she
had done so, he continued--“Your mistress has been telling me about this
sad affair with the knife, Norah.”

“Yes, masther,” she replied, with her usual impudence; “but sure an’
I’ve forgotten it all long ago--so I have. Wasn’t it myself that tould
her I’d think no more about it.”

“Yes; but, Norah,” he continued, “don’t you think that it’s you who
require your mistress’s forgiveness, after attempting her life, as you
did yesterday.”

“Thrue, masther,” answered Norah; “but, faith, an’ didn’t she say that
ould Ireland, the first jim of the sa, was a pigsty, and I thought of
nothing else at all at all.”

“Well, now, listen to me, Norah,” he said. “Perhaps I should astonish
you if I were to tell you that you could be transported for what you did
to your mistress yesterday.”

“Thransported, did ye say,” she replied. “An’ sure an’ the misthress had
no rights to be afther blaggearding my counthry as she did.”

“No, Norah,” he replied; “that was very inconsiderate of _her_; but it
was both wicked and mad of _you_ to think that you could add to your
country’s honour by shedding the blood of one whom you were bound to
respect.”

“Thrue, again, Masther,” she answered, with consummate impudence. “But,
by my sowl, we are a warrm-hearted people, so we are; an’ when the
blood’s up, Pat hasn’t time to be thinkin’ of thrifles.”

“Exactly so; and it is for that reason, Norah,” continued my husband,
“that persons like ourselves are frightened to live in the same house
with you.”

“Frighthined was it ye were saying,” she replied; “sure an’ if you’re
good to us, don’t we take it to heart as warrmly as when ye trate us
badly. But, by St. Pathrick, it’s the bad we forgit, and the good we
remimber. Faith, an’ the masther hisself will say that!”

“I cannot deny it,” returned Edward; “and, indeed, it is solely on that
account, Norah, that I speak to you in the temperate manner I am at
present doing; for I know that it is the character of your nation to be
touched by a kind word, while you are only enraged by a harsh one.”

“Faith, an’ that’s what we are,” cried the woman, who really looked as
if she was going out of her wits on the spot. “An’ blessings on the
masther who said that same. An’ by the powers, it isn’t Norah that’ll be
the dirty blaggeard ever to lave him as long as she lives.”

“Yes, but, Norah,” returned my husband, with certainly more reason than
I ever gave him credit for, “after your conduct to your mistress, I
should be forgetting my duty to her, were I to consent to your remaining
with me.”

“Och, murther!” she exclaimed, as cool as ever. “You niver mane to say
that you’ll be afther driving Norah from your door?”

“Yes, Norah,” he answered, with a firmness that astonished me; “this day
month, if you please! You can go down to your work again now.”

“Ah, niver say it--niver say it, honey,” she cried, with the tears
starting in her eyes--“ah, niver say it. Only let Norah stop wid ye, and
by St. Pathrick there’s nothing she’ll be thinking too good for ye.
Sure, and wont she work night and day for ye both. Oh! spake a word to
him, misthress, and say ye wont be after puttin’ my blood up agin, and
I’ll be as kind and good to the pair of ye as if ye were my own dear
childer.”

“No, Norah!” my husband replied; “it is useless to think that you and
your mistress can ever live amicably together; and my mind is made up.
So go down stairs quietly, like a good soul, and don’t let me hear
anything more about it.”

I’m sure I never witnessed in all my life such a scene as followed. I
declare that Norah went on more like a mad thing than a Christian. At
one moment, she was crying like a child, at another, she was raving like
a maniac. Now she was all penitence, and the very next minute, her eyes
were starting out of her head, and she was swearing to be revenged; and
she had no sooner finished blessing us, in case we let her stop, than
she would set to work and heap on our heads, if we sent her away, all
kinds of the most dreadful curses one could think of, and which quite
made my flesh crawl, I declare.

But Edward was very stern, and wouldn’t give in in the least; so that at
last, Norah, finding all her tears thrown away upon us, and that she was
only wasting her breath by going on in the way she did, turned round,
and swearing that we shouldn’t send her away, went down to the kitchen
again. On going to the top of the stairs and listening, I could hear her
muttering all kinds of dreadful things against me, though I’m sure _I_
hadn’t given her warning, and couldn’t see that _I_ had done so much
towards her, after all. But the fact was, the creature I knew had had a
spite against me ever since she set foot in the house.

I went back into the parlour, and asked Edward just to come and listen
how the woman was raving, but he is such a stupid, obstinate man, that
he wouldn’t oblige me, and said that it was a meanness that any decent
person would be ashamed of doing.

Really I was so frightened of the woman after what I had heard her say
she would do to me, that I asked Edward whether he hadn’t better make it
up with her this once, and tell Norah that she might stop--for as she
had promised to work night and day for us, it really struck me that she
couldn’t do more, and that she was a treasure that we ought not to think
of parting with just for a hasty word or so. But of course Mr
Sk--n--st--n must have his own way, and can’t believe any one to be in
the wrong but his wife, for he merely answered, that it was ridiculous
to think of it, for Norah was as combustible as a barrel of gunpowder,
and I was no better than a brimstone match to her. Whereupon I very
properly said that I didn’t know what on earth he meant by his brimstone
indeed, and that as for the matter of matches _he_ needn’t talk, for I
could tell him that he was more than a match for anybody--so come! Then
he went on with some more of his high-flown rubbish upon what I had said
about the woman’s own offer to work night and day for us, telling me
that I seemed to look upon all servants as mere bundles of muscles,
without for one moment thinking that the poor things had a heart as well
as I had; to which I, with my usual satire, answered--“Did I! then it
only showed how much he knew about it.”

As soon as Mr. Sk--n--st--n had left the house, and I had seen him well
off, I just slipt on my bonnet and shawl, and stept round to dear
mother’s, to ask the good soul for some of her valuable advice under the
painful circumstances.

Dear mother said she was truly gratified to find me flying to her bosom
in my moments of peril, and told me, with beautiful affection, that she
only lived for me and my father’s business now; though what with her
duty to me and my husband, my coming to her did place her so awkwardly,
that she really felt as if she was between two fires, and if she turned
her face to one, she would have the other on her back. She said it all
amounted to this--If she rowed in the same boat as myself, and went
against Edward, she must run him down in my presence, which would pain
her much to do; or else she must throw me overboard, and sink her own
child in order to find favour in Mr. Sk--n--st--n’s eyes; so that I must
see what a trying position hers was, and how wrong it was of me, as
matters stood, to ask her to express any opinion upon my husband’s
shameful, indecent, and, she would add, unmanly conduct. Of course, it
would never do for her, she said, to tell me that he had behaved to me
worse than a savage. But still this she would say, that if _her_
husband, my own father, had behaved to _her_ one half as brutally as Mr.
Sk--n--st--n had to _me_, that she would not have stopped in the house
of the monster another moment; and that though he had come after her the
very next day, begging and praying of her to return--as of course he
would--still she would have turned a deaf ear to all his entreaties, and
insisted upon having a handsome separate maintenance from the wretch,
and never willingly have set eyes upon him again. Not that she wished me
to understand that she was counselling me to do anything of the
kind--far from it; for, as she truly observed, she trusted she knew
herself too well to be in any way instrumental to the separation of
husband and wife; as it must be very clear to me, she added, that if
through anything she said, I might be induced to pack up whatever
dresses and jewellery Mr. Sk--n--st--n had presented me with, and leave
my ungrateful husband for ever, that maybe, when my dear little innocent
babe was born, I might repent of my rash step, and visit her with it.
This, she told me, she felt would be a dreadful punishment to her, and a
return, indeed, that she little dreamt of. So she really must again beg
and pray to be allowed to remain perfectly neutral in the business;
especially as from the insight she had had into Mr. Sk--n--st--n’s
character of late, she was sure that he would not act towards me as he
ought, but would settle on me an allowance that would scarcely procure
me the common necessaries of life. And how I was to live then, she would
not attempt to say.

Concerning Norah, however, she said it was quite a different thing, and
that she felt no such delicacy about taking that matter in hand, as,
from the experience she had had in the management of servants, (which,
of course, Mr. Sk--n--st--n could not possibly understand anything
about, or he would have known that kindness was utterly thrown away upon
the creatures,) she flattered herself that she would very soon bring the
woman to her senses, indeed. So she would slip her things on that very
moment, and step round with me to Miss Norah, although I told her that
she was too good to me, and that I was afraid that I was riding the
willing horse to death when I saddled her with the baggage.

When we reached our cottage _orné_, I allowed dear mother to go down
into the kitchen by herself, thinking it best not to interfere between
her and that spitfire of a Norah, as there was no knowing what the
consequences might be. I shouldn’t think she could have been away five
minutes, when up she came rushing into the room, with her face as white
as the head of a cauliflower, and all of a tremble, just like a
steam-boat. As soon as she had recovered her breath, (which indeed, has
been bad for these many years past,) she declared that it was quite a
mercy she had even been able to escape with her life up the kitchen
stairs, as she never had stood face to face with such a fury in all her
born days before; for directly she told the woman that she ought to be
ashamed of herself for the way in which she had treated so kind a
mistress, and that, for her part, she only wished that she had the
management of her, and she would take good care to rule her with a rod
of iron,--when, no sooner had she said as much, than the dragon screamed
out, “A rod of iron, is it?” and snatching up the heavy kitchen poker,
swore that, by the powers, if mother didn’t lave the kitchen directly,
she would crack her ugly ould nob for her like a cocoa-nut, saying the
likes of her had no rights in the kitchen at all at all, and she’d just
tache her not to put her foot in it agin. Then she twisted about the
great heavy kitchen poker over her head, and began capering and
screaming away, and then, giving vent to a horrible oath, the fury flew
after poor dear mother, and followed her half way up the kitchen stairs;
and mother said she really believed if the vixen could have caught hold
of her, that she would have been a melancholy corpse that
moment--adding, that if she were me, she would go down stairs that very
minute, and turn the blood-thirsty tigress out of the house, neck and
crop. When I very properly observed, that as she had so kindly
undertaken the management of the creature for me, I felt I should not
like to take it out of her hands, she said that as Norah Connor seemed
to object very naturally to her interference, she would have nothing
more to do with her--as, upon second thoughts, it certainly was no place
of hers.

When my mother found that I was determined not to have anything more to
do with Miss Norah, she said that if I chose to let the fury remain in
the house, I must abide by the consequences, and that if the spiteful
creature poisoned the whole family, I must not blame her. Indeed, the
woman was clearly so mad about leaving, that mother would stake her
existence that it wouldn’t be long before the vixen gave us such a dose
of arsenic--either in the pudding, the soup, or the vegetables, or
something--as would put a miserable end to both Edward and myself. And I
declare dear mother frightened me so by what she said, that I really
couldn’t get the arsenic out of my head for weeks.

Edward only laughed at me for my suspicions, and called me a stupid
woman, and pooh-poohed me in a most unfeeling manner. But the worst of
it was, that though he assured me he knew the disposition of Norah
Connor better than I did, still everything conspired to convince me that
I was a _doomed woman_--for the very day dear mother had filled my mind
with the horrid idea, I declare, if I didn’t knock down the
looking-glass off the dressing-room table and break it all to shivers,
which of course fully persuaded me that a death must shortly occur in
the family. And again, one evening, after tea, when I was sitting by
the fire with dear Edward, if as perfect a coffin as ever I saw in all
my life didn’t jump out from between the bars, and fell upon the
hearth-rug just close to my feet, while upon turning round, who can
imagine my horror when I saw hanging to the side of the candle one of
the clearest winding-sheets that I think I ever beheld.

I now perceived that there was no escape for me; for though the
looking-glass might mean any one in the family, and the coffin was quite
as near Edward as myself, still, alas! there was no mistaking the
winding-sheet, for it pointed right at me, and said, as plainly as it
could speak, “CAROLINE SK--N--ST--N, BEWARE!” so that, when I put the
looking-glass, and the coffin, and the winding-sheet together, I wished
anybody but myself would stand in my shoes, for it was clear that I had
already got one foot in the grave.

All this took such a hold of my mind, and I could see the linger of fate
pointing at me so plainly, that I declare I hadn’t courage to eat
anything for weeks, and so lost, by my foolish fears, many excellent
good dinners; for, indeed, I derived my chief nourishment from common
penny buns--and which really had so little in them to satisfy me, that I
declare I have very often eaten as many as fourteen a day--though in the
end I really found that I was falling away rapidly; for my fair readers
must be fully aware that it is utterly impossible to keep body and soul
together with penny buns. And I declare I had such a surfeit of the
puffy blown-out things, that really I have never been able to bear the
sight of them since.

And thus I went on, starving myself to death by inches, until one day,
Edward, having won a cause, dined at Westminster with the witnesses; and
then if a dog in the street didn’t keep howling and crying all the
evening, like anything--just opposite our house. When my husband
returned, he let out, quite by accident, whilst I was asking him about
what they had given him for dinner, that there were thirteen at table!
This completely quieted my fears, for I now plainly saw that all the
dreadful omens pointed at my husband and not at myself, while the simple
fact of the dog howling all the time the thirteen were at dinner,
completely convinced me that I was destined before long to _wear
weeds_.

The next day--as I now saw Fate had singled out its victim, and that my
dear Edward, and not myself, was doomed to be the melancholy martyr of
Miss Norah’s poisonous designs--I thought I might as well make a good
dinner for the first time these three weeks--though, with my usual
prudence, I determined to get some favourite dish for my poor husband,
so that he might enjoy it all to himself, and so that I might not be
called upon to partake of the same food as he did. But, that day, thank
goodness, Edward delighted me by bringing home one of his country
agents, a Mr. Fl--m--ng, to dinner with him; so I at once saw that, as I
carved, I should have an opportunity of trying the effect of the
different dishes upon the visitor before allowing my dear husband to
peril his precious life by partaking of them. For as I had to choose
whether Edward, who is a tolerably good husband, or Fl--m--ng, who is
far from a profitable agent, should fall a victim to Norah’s spite, of
course I could not help preferring the lesser evil, and sacrificing my
guest in order to save my spouse. So I took good care, all through
dinner, that directly my Edward expressed a wish to taste such and such
a dish, to prevail upon Mr. Fl--m--ng to try some of the same before I
allowed my husband to touch it, in order that I might observe what
effect it had upon him, poor man, before helping my dear Edward. But
with all my care, nothing would satisfy my self-willed husband, of
course, but some of the very veal cutlets that I’d had cooked for
myself, and which I’d made a point of not asking Mr. Fl--m--ng to touch,
in order that I might have them all to myself; so that there was I
obliged, after all, to make my dinner off potatoes and cheese.

Indeed, all that week--which, thank heavens, was to be the last of Norah
Connor’s stay with us--I took care always to have a friend to dinner; so
that, by this innocent _ruse de guerre_, I might keep my husband at
least out of danger. And so, thank goodness, I did; though, as it turned
out, I had only been starving myself upon penny buns, and trembling at
every meal for the life of Mr. Sk--n--st--n, all to no good at all; for
I verily believe now, from the way in which Norah parted with us, and
the sorrow she showed at so doing, that the poor woman really was too
much attached to us by half ever to dream of putting an end to us in so
unfeeling a manner.

When the day came for her to go, I declare the poor thing was dreadfully
cut up, and cried like a child; for she said she knew what I had
suspected her of, and told me, in quite a touching way, that “maybe her
timper was warrm, but still, by the powers, it wasn’t Norah that would
iver in cowld blood harrm the hair of my head, and that she wouldn’t
have tould me she was Cornwall, sure, hadn’t she known that to say she
came from Ould Ireland was like taking the blissed brid from her mouth,
and sartin to make me and my counthry people turn our backs upon her,
for sure and weren’t the Saxons always puttin’ at the bottom of their
adver-_tyze_-mints, No Irish need apply.”

We parted the best of friends, and I gave the poor, honest,
hard-working, open-hearted creature, either five shillings or
half-a-crown (I can’t exactly say which now), though I’m nearly certain
it was the larger sum, and for a quarter-of-an-hour at least she stood
on the door-step and did nothing but call me her mavourneen, and macree,
and a quantity of other outlandish names, and kept invoking blessings on
my head, and sobbing away as though she really _had_ got, as Edward said
a heart to break.




CHAPTER VII.

     OF MY PRETTY MAID, AND THOSE DREADFUL SOLDIERS WHO WOULD COME
     TURNING HER HEAD, AND PREVENTING THE POOR THING DOING HER WORK.

    “Heigho! heigho! I’m afraid,
    Too many lovers will puzzle a maid.”
        “YOUNG SUSAN HAD LOVERS SO MANY, THAT SHE,” &c.


The servant who came in after Norah was a young woman whose godfathers
and godmothers (stupid people) had christened Rosetta, as if she had
been a Duchess. As of course I wasn’t going to have any of my menials
answering to a stuck-up name like that, I gave her to understand that I
should allow no such things in _my_ house, indeed, but would take the
liberty of altering pretty Rosetta into plain Susan. She was a nice,
clean-looking girl, and was--what, I dare say, some persons would
call--pretty, for her features were very regular; still it was not my
style of beauty. And though her complexion certainly was clear and rosy,
still there was too healthy and countrified a look about it to please
me; for to be perfectly beautiful, it wanted the interesting air that
indisposition always gives the face; for it is universally allowed by
all well-bred people that a woman never looks so well as when she
appears to be suffering from bad health. She had a pair of very fine
blue eyes of her own; but I must confess I never was partial to eyes of
that colour, for they always seem to me to want the expression of hazel
ones. (Dear Edward says mine are hazel.) To do the girl justice, her
mouth was the best feature she had in her face, and yet there was
something about it--I can’t exactly tell what--that wasn’t altogether to
my liking. Her figure, too, certainly did look very good for a person in
_her_ station of life; but all my fair readers must be as well aware as
I am that things have lately come to _such_ a pretty pass, and an
excellent _tournure_ can be had for _so_ little money, that even one’s
maid-servants can walk into any corset-makers and buy a figure, fit for
a lady of the highest respectability, for a mere trifle; and such being
the case, of course there is so much imposition about a female’s
appearance now-a-days, that really it is impossible to tell what is
natural and what is not. When the conceited bit of goods came after the
situation, she looked _so_ clean, tidy, and respectable, and had on
_such_ a nice plain cotton gown, of only one colour--being a nice white
spot on a dark green ground,--and _such_ a good, strong, serviceable
half-a-crown Dunstable straw bonnet, trimmed very plainly; and _such_ a
nice clean quilled net-cap under it; and _such_ a tidy plain white
muslin collar over one of the quietest black-and-white plaid shawls I
think I ever saw in all my life, that I felt quite charmed at seeing her
dressed _so_ thoroughly like what a respectable servant ought to be; and
I’m sure I was never so surprised, in all my born days, as when her late
mistress (who gave her an excellent character) told me the reason why
they parted with Susan was, that she was inclined to be dressy; so that,
after what I had seen of the poor girl, I said to myself--Dressy,
indeed!--well, if they call her dressy, I should just like to know what
dressy is! and engaged her, accordingly.

The first Sunday after she had come into the house, however, I found
that her late mistress wasn’t so far out in the character she had given
the minx; for lo and behold! my neat, unpretending chrysalis had changed
into a flaunting fal-lal butterfly. For after she had gone up stairs to
clean herself that afternoon, if my lady didn’t come down dressed out as
fine as a sweep on a May-day. Bless us and save us! if the stuck-up
thing hadn’t got on a fly-a-way starched-out imitation Balzorine gown,
of a bright ultramarine, picked out with white flowers--with a double
skirt, too, made like a tunic, and looking _so_ grand, (though one could
easily see that it could not possibly have cost more than
six-and-six--if that, indeed,) and drat her impudence! if she hadn’t on
each side of her head got a bunch of long ringlets, like untwisted
bell-ropes, hanging half way down to her waist, and a blonde-lace cap,
with cherry-coloured rosettes, and streamers flying about nearly a yard
long; while on looking at her feet, if the conceited bit of goods hadn’t
got on patent leather shoes, with broad sandals, and open-worked cotton
stockings, as I’m a living woman--and net mittens on her hands too, as
true as my name’s Sk--n--st--n. I had her in the parlour pretty soon,
for I wanted to ask her who the dickens she took me for. Of course, she
was very much surprised that I should object to all her trumpery finery
and fiddlefaddle; and she knew as well as I did that the terms I made
when I engaged her were--ten pounds a year, find her own tea and sugar,
and no followers, nor ringlets, nor sandals, allowed; and that if, in
the hurry of the moment, I had omitted to mention the ringlets and
sandals, it was an oversight on my part, for which I was very sorry; so
I told her that I would thank her to go up stairs again, and take that
finery off her back as quickly as she could, and never, as long as she
remained under my roof, to think of appearing before me in such a
disgraceful state again. When she went out that afternoon to church, the
girl had made herself look something decent, and was no longer dressed
out as showily as if she was the mistress instead of the maid.

Indeed, this love of dress seemed to be quite a mania with the girl;
for I am sure the stupid thing must have gone spending every penny of
her wages upon her back. And do what I would, I couldn’t prevent the
conceited peacock from poking her nasty, greasy bottles of rose hair-oil
and filthy combs and brushes all among the plates and dishes over the
dresser. And I declare, upon looking in the drawer of the kitchen table
one morning, while she was making the beds up stairs, if I didn’t
stumble upon a trumpery sixpenny copy of “The Hand-Book of the Toilet,”
which soon told me that the dirty messes I had been continually finding
in all the saucepans, were either some pomatum, or cream, or wash, which
she had been making for her face or hands. And a day or two afterwards,
while I was down stairs seeing about the dinner, if the precious beauty
hadn’t the impudence to tell me that she wished to goodness that her
“hibrows met like mine did, for it was considered very handsome by the
hancients;” and in a few minutes afterwards, the dirty puss informed me
that the Hand-Book of the Tilet said that you ought to clean your teeth
every morning, and that she had lately tried it, and had no hidea that
it was so hagreable; and then, with the greatest coolness imaginable, if
she didn’t advise _me_ to rub my gums with salt hevery night before I
went to bed; for that the lady of rank and fashion who, she said, was
the talented hauthoress of the little work, declared that it made your
gums look uncommon lovely and red. On which I told her that I was
disgusted to find her head filled with such a heap of rubbish as it was.

But really the stupid girl’s vanity carried her to such lengths, that
she was silly enough to allow any man to go falling in love with her who
liked, although I must say that I don’t think there was any harm in the
minx. Still it was by no means pleasant to have a pack of single knocks
continually coming and turning the poor thing’s head on your
door-step--so that it was really one person’s time to be popping out of
the parlour and telling the girl to come in directly, and not stand
chatting there with the door in her hand. But when she found that my
vigilance had put an end to her courtships on my door-step, she soon
discovered another means of corresponding with her admirers in the
neighbourhood. For one morning, when I went into the back bed-room to
put out some clean pillow-cases, and I happened to go to the window for
a moment, I was never so astonished in the whole course of my existence
as when I saw that impudent monkey of a footman belonging to the
S--mm--ns’s (whose house is just at the bottom of our garden) holding up
a tea-tray, on the back of which was written, in large chalk letters,
“HANGEL, CAN I CUM TO TEE;” and I immediately saw what the fellow meant
by his tricks; so I crept down stairs as gently as I could, and in the
back parlour I found, just as I had expected, my precious beauty of a
Susan perched on a chair, and holding up my best japanned tea-tray--that
cost me I don’t know what all--and on the back she had written with the
same elegant writing materials--“HADOORED ONE! YOU CARNT CUM--ALAS!
MISSUS WILL BE HIN.” So I scolded her well for carrying on those games,
and daring to chalk her nasty love-letters on my tea-trays, telling her
that hers were pretty goings on and fine doings indeed.

And really if it hadn’t been for Edward’s aversion to changing, I do
believe I should have packed her out of the house--as indeed I wish I
had--then and there; for the way in which she went on towards me really
was enough to make a saint swear, (though I’m happy to say I did not.)
For, in the first place, the reader should know that I’m more particular
about my caps than any other article of dress. Indeed, I do think, that
of all things, a pretty cap is the most becoming thing a married woman
can wear; and if I can only get them _distingué_, (as we say,) I don’t
mind what expense I go to, especially as it is so easily made up out of
the housekeeping by giving my husband a few tarts less every week, and
managing the house as prudently and for as little money as I possibly
can. But I declare, no sooner did I get a new cap to my head, and one
that I flattered myself was quite out of the common, than as sure as the
next Sunday came round, that impudent stuck-up bit of goods of a Miss
Susan would make a point of appearing in one of the very same shape and
trimming--only, of course, made of an inferior and cheaper material; and
though I kept continually changing mine, as often as the housekeeping
would admit of my doing so, still it was of no use at all; for the girl
was so quick with her needle and thread, that she could unpick hers and
make it up again like mine for a few pence; and the consequence was,
that any party who had seen either of us only once or twice, would be
safe to mistake one for the other--which I suppose was her
ambition--drat her. This got me nicely insulted, indeed! for one day,
after having had a very nice luncheon of two poached eggs and a basin of
some delicious mutton broth, together with a glass of Guinness’s bottled
stout, I got up and went to look at the window; and I was standing there
with my head just over the blinds, when the policeman came sauntering
by, and seeing me--I declare if the barefaced monkey didn’t turn his
head round and wink at me! I never was so horrified in all my life; for
of course I couldn’t tell what on earth the man could mean by behaving
in such a low, familiar way towards _me_; and as I remained rivetted
with astonishment to the spot, I saw him stop after he had gone a few
paces past the house, and--I never knew such impudence in all my born
days!--begin kissing his hand as if he wanted to make love to me. So I
shook my fist at him pretty quickly; but the jack-a-napes only grinned;
and putting an inquiring look on his face, pointed down to our kitchen
window, and made signs with his hands as if he were cutting up something
and putting it into his mouth, and eating it. So I very soon saw that my
fine gentleman was mistaking me for that stupid, soft, fly-a-way minx of
mine down stairs, and only wanted to come paying his pie-crust addresses
to Miss Susan and _my_ provisions. So I determined to let him know who I
was, indeed; and went to the street-door to show myself, and just take
his number, and have the fellow well punished for his impertinent goings
on: but no sooner did the big-whiskered puppy see me, than he went off
in a hurry, like a rocket, as fast as his legs could carry him. When I
had up Miss Susan, and questioned her as to whether she had ever given
the man any encouragement, she told me a nice lot of taradiddles, I
could see by her manner, which put me in such a passion, that I declared
if ever I caught her making up her caps like mine again, I’d throw them
right behind the kitchen fire--that I would.

Though, really, when I came to reflect, in my calm moments, upon the
girl’s conduct, there was every excuse to be

[Illustration: “_Followers!!!_”]

made for the poor ignorant thing; for being cursed, as the philosopher
says, with--what some people would have called--a pretty face, and
having been only a year or so up from the country, it was but natural
that the silly creature should have been tickled by the flattery of the
pack of fellows who, to my great horror, were continually running after
her; for what with the young men in the neighbourhood, and what with
those dreadful barracks in Albany Street, I declare if our house wasn’t
completely besieged with the girl’s lovers. I do verily believe, so long
as that good-looking puss remained with us, that from morning till night
we had one of the soldiers walking up and down in front of our door,
just like a sentinel--for, upon my word, as fast as one went away,
another used to come, for all the world as if they were relieving guard
in St. James’s Park; and really and truly, the whole of my valuable time
was taken up either in answering single knocks, and telling them for
about the hundredth time Mr. Smith did not live there, or else in
pulling up the windows, and ordering the vagabonds to go along with
them, and mind their own business.

And here let me pause for a minute to remark upon the shameful nuisance
that those barracks in Albany Street are to all persons living in that
otherwise quiet and pretty neighbourhood--for I’m sure there’s not a
person whose house is within half-a-mile of the dreadful place that
isn’t wherrited out of their lives by them. Upon my word, the Life
Guardsmen there are so frightfully handsome, that they ought not to be
allowed by Government to wander at large in those fascinating red
jackets, and with those large jet-black mustachios of theirs, sticking
out on each side of their face, just like two sticks of Spanish
liquorice--nor be permitted to go about as they do, breaking, or at
least cracking, the hearts of all the poor servant-girls in the
neighbourhood, as if they were so much crockery. And what on earth the
hearts of the good-looking wretches themselves can be made of is more
than I can say; for either they must be as impenetrable to Cupid’s
arrows as bags of sand, or I’m sure else they must be as full of holes
as a rushlight-shade. I don’t know what the regiment may cost the nation
every year, (but of course it’s no trifling sum, and what they do for it
except make love to the maids, I can’t see)--but this I do know for a
positive fact, that the expense the Life Guardsmen are to the
respectable inhabitants of Albany Street and its neighbourhood is
actually frightful; for they seem to be of opinion that love cannot live
on air, and consequently always begin by paying their addresses to the
cooks, and if the larder be good, I will do them the justice to say,
that their constancy is wonderful; and really the sum they cost poor
Albany Street and its surrounding districts in the matter of cold meat
alone is really so dreadful, that I really do think if a petition were
got up, and the case properly represented to Government, the Paymaster
of the Forces could not refuse to make them a large allowance every year
for the excellent rations served out to the soldiers every day by the
maids. Really the amiable fellows’ appetites seem to be as large as
their hearts--and _they_ are as big as the Waterloo omnibuses, Heaven
knows, and will carry fourteen inside with perfect ease and comfort any
day. Talk about locusts in the land--I’d back a regiment of Life
Guardsmen for eating a respectable district out of house and home in
half the time, for positively the fine-looking vagabonds seem to have
nothing else to do but to walk about Albany Street, looking down every
area like so many dealers in hare and rabbit skins, crying out--“Any
affection or cold meat this morning, cook?” I don’t know if any of my
courteous readers have ever been in Albany Street when the bugle is
sounded for the fellows to return to their barracks, but upon my word
the scene is really heartbreaking to housekeepers, for there isn’t an
area down the whole street but from which you will see a Life Guardsman,
with his mouth full, ascending the steps, and hurrying off to his
quarters for the night. Anybody will agree with me that one Don Giovanni
is quite enough to turn the fair heads of a whole parish; but upon my
word, when a whole regiment of them are suddenly let loose upon one
particular locality, the havoc among the hearts is positively frightful;
and there isn’t a man in the Life Guards, I know, (unless he’s afflicted
with red mustachios,) that isn’t a regular six-foot two Lothario.
Besides, Mrs. Lockley, the wife of one of Edward’s best clients, assures
me that there was one fascinating monster of a Life Guardsman who, the
day after his regiment was quartered in Albany Street Barracks, began
bestowing his affection on the cook at the bottom of the street, near
Trinity Church, and loved all up the right-hand side of the way, and
then commenced loving down the left; and she says, she verily believes
the amiable villain would have got right to the bottom of the street
again, had he not been stopped by the Colosseum--so that the wretch was
actually obliged to remain constant to the cook who lived at the house
next to it for upwards of a month, at an expense of at least a guinea
a-week to the master, and half-a-crown to the cook, for tobacco, for the
gallant servant-killer.

But to return to that poor simpleton, Susan. One day, Mr. Sk--n--st--n
having been obliged to go down to those bothering Kingston Assizes, upon
professional business, I was, of course, left all alone, with Susan in
the house; and really, from the loneliness of the neighbourhood, and the
savage looks of those dreadful soldiers, whom I could not keep away from
the place, it had such a dreadful effect upon my nerves, that I got
quite stupid and frightened, and kept fancying I heard people trying to
open our street door with false keys, and others attempting to break in
at the back. So I made up my mind, when it was just close upon eight
o’clock, that I wouldn’t sit there trembling any longer, and told that
girl Susan to eat her supper directly, but on no account to touch the
remains of that delicious beefsteak-pie, as I’d set my heart upon having
it cold for dinner to-morrow,--for really, I do think it is as nice a
dish as one can eat,--and lock up the doors, and get ready to go to bed.
And when she had done so, I went down, and having satisfied myself that
the house was all safe, saw little Miss Mischief of a Susan up stairs
before me; and as I thought there was something odd about her conduct, I
saw her into bed, and took the key of her room, and locked her in.

I don’t think I could have been in bed myself above half-an-hour, when
just as I was dozing off into a nice, comfortable sleep, I was roused by
our area bell going cling-a-ling-ling so gently, that I at once knew
something was in the wind somewhere. In about five minutes, there was
another pull, louder than the first, and in about three minutes after
that, another. So I jumped out of bed, and slipping on my wrapper,
threw up the window, when lo and behold! there was one of those plaguy
Life Guardsmen waiting to be let in at our area gate. “Who’s there?” I
cried, pretty loudly.

“It’s only me, my charmer!” he answered, in a loud whisper.

“Who are you, and what do you want here at this time of night?” I
demanded.

“Come, that’s a good ’un, after asking me to supper with you,” he
replied. “Come down, I tell you. It’s only Ned Twist, of the
Guards.--How about that cold beefsteak-pie, my heart’s idol?”

“Go along about your business,” I said, in a loud voice. “You ought to
be ashamed of yourself--you ought.”

“Come, none of your jokes,” he replied; “I am so plaguy hungry. I’m good
for the whole of that pie of your missus’s; so come down, and let us in,
there’s a beauty.”

“Go along with you, do!” I said, in a very loud voice, “or I’ll call the
police.”

“Hush-sh-sh!” he said, in a whisper, “or you’ll be letting that old
she-dragon of a missus of yours hear you, and then it will be all up
with my beefsteak-pie, angel! And that will never do, for I’ve just
refused a splendid offer of tripe and onions from a lovely cook in
Osnaburgh-street. So, once for all, do you mean to come down or not?--or
I shall have that angel’s tripe all cold before I get back to her.”

“Go along with you!” I cried out, unable to contain myself any longer,
now I had heard all he had got to say--“go along with you--I’m that
she-dragon of a mistress, and if you are not off, I’ll give you in
custody----”

But the words were scarcely out of my mouth, before Mr. Ned Twist ran
away as fast as his legs would carry him; and as he turned the corner, I
caught a glimpse of the handsome fellow’s face by the gaslight, and knew
that he was one of the very men who were always coming and asking if Mr.
Smith lived there.

In the morning, when I inquired of Miss Susan whether she was acquainted
with one Ned Twist, in the Life Guards, of course she knew nothing about
the gentleman; and, unfortunately, I had forgotten to wheedle out of the
man the name of the party he really had come to see, so that I could not
fix her with anything positive.

[Illustration: _George Cruikshank_

“_It’s my Cousin M’am!_”]

But I determined to clear up all doubts about the matter, and so I set a
trap, into which my lady fell, and I caught her as nicely as ever she
was caught in the whole course of her life. I told her that I was going
round to dear mother’s, to tea, (though of course I never intended to be
silly enough to do anything of the kind;) and accordingly I left the
house, and went to make a few little odd purchases in the neighbourhood,
and then returned in about an hour’s time, saying that, unfortunately,
mother was from home, (though, for the matter of that, I didn’t know
whether she was or not.) It was very easy to see that my lady was quite
flustered at my coming back so unexpectedly. Of course I went straight
into the parlour, and told her to bring me up the tea-things, and then I
shouldn’t want her any more; for I wasn’t going to be such a simpleton
as to go down then, as I felt convinced that directly she heard my knock
at the door she had stowed away her gallant son of Mars in the
coal-cellar. Just as I had expected, the tea things came up in about
half-an-hour. When she brought them, I pretended to be fast asleep on
the sofa, and about five minutes after she had put them on the table, I
crept down stairs so softly that I declare I could scarcely hear my own
footstep; and on opening the door suddenly, as if I wanted to go to the
wine-cellar, lo, and behold! there my Life Guardsman was, true enough,
and as far as I could judge, Mr. Ned Twist himself--and though all the
things had been cleared away, still from the gravy and bits of pie-crust
that were hanging to the fellow’s mustachios, I could see that my
gentleman had been at _my_ beef-steak pie with a vengeance. Miss Susan,
however, was far from losing her presence of mind, and was even with me
in a minute; for she rose from her chair, and introduced me to Mr. Ned
Twist, saying, “My cousin, Mam,” while her cousin (pretty cousin,
indeed!) jumped to the other side of the room, and drawing himself as
straight up as a six-foot rule, put his hand sideways to his forehead,
as a mark of respect to the mistress of his _relation_, (Augh, I can’t
bear such deceit!) As he was a great tall man, and I was a poor lone
woman, with my husband in the country, I thought it best to be civil to
the good-looking monster, (though I could have given it him well, I
could!) so I begged of him not to disturb himself, but to sit down
quietly, and make himself quite at home with his _cousin_. Then I went
up stairs, and putting on my bonnet and shawl, slipped out of the house
as quick as I could--though, bother take it, I couldn’t get the
street-door to close after me without making a noise. Then I went up to
the first policeman I met with, and told him he must come with me that
instant, as I wanted to give a man in charge for robbing me of my
beef-steak pie. But on going back, the bird had flown; so I had to offer
the policeman my thanks and a glass of table-beer,--which, however, the
good man would not accept, saying that they were forbidden to drink
while on duty. I was so surprised at finding such virtue in the police
force--especially when I recollected how I had been treated by that
big-whiskered monkey--who had winked at me, that I took a good look at
this noble man, and at once knew from the quantity of hair about the
jackanapes’ face that he was the identical fellow who had not only
kissed his hand to me, but had also wanted himself to partake of
whatever there might be in my larder. So I sent him off with a flea in
his ear; and then turning round sharp upon Miss Susan, I told her that
she would go that day month, as sure as her name was Susan, and that I
hoped and trusted she would let this be a warning to her--for I knew
very well that I could easily pretend to make it up with her again, and
so keep her on a month or six weeks after my confinement.

The next day I received a very proper letter from Edward, informing me
he was afraid that business would detain him at Kingston for another
week, and a very unladylike and rude letter from Mrs. Yapp, the mother
of Edward’s poor dear deceased first wife, telling my husband she would
be in town to-morrow, and that she purposed making her dear boy’s house
her home so long as she remained in London.

Oh, gracious goodness! I said to myself, what will my poor husband do
under this awful visitation? for if one mother-in-law is more than he
can bear, what on earth will he do when he finds himself afflicted with
two?--and the worst of it all was, that I saw that during my
confinement--but, alas! I must reserve this for another chapter.




CHAPTER VIII.

     WHICH TREATS OF MRS. YAPP, MRS. B--FF--N, MRS. TOOSYPEGS, LITTLE
     MISS SK--N--ST--N, AND FLY-AWAY MISS SUSAN.

    “It was one winter’s day, about six in the morn,
    When my little innocent creature was born;
    There were doctor, and nurse, and a great many more,
    But none of them saw such a baby before.”
               POPULAR SONG.


Mrs. Yapp’s threatened visit took such a hold of me, that I felt myself
quite driven up in a corner; and the worst of it was, I saw no way of
getting out of it with any decency. Though I couldn’t for the life of me
understand what claim she had upon my husband’s hospitality, now that it
had pleased Providence in its bountiful mercy to take his first wife
from him--and looking at it as I did, it did seem to me to be very like
her impudence indeed in calling my husband her “dear boy,” since her
daughter had been dead and gone a good two years at least. Besides, of
course, _I_ was a mere nobody--_I_ was--and not worth even so much as
the mentioning in her letter, for her coming couldn’t put _me_ out in
the least--oh no! And what would my lady care if it did, for it was very
clear _I_ was nothing to her--not _I_, indeed! and as to whether it was
convenient _for me_ to receive her or not, that was the last thing
thought of; for if she turned us all topsy-turvy, and left us without so
much as a leg to stand upon, what would it matter to her so long as
_she_ was all right and comfortable, and could get her bed and board for
nothing--for that was at the bottom of it, I could see--a mean old
thing! Making her dear boy’s house her home too!--her _home_,
indeed!--her hotel, more likely; and she has got four hundred a-year
long annuities. Sooner than _I_’d be guilty of such meanness, I declare,
upon my word and honour, I’d take the first broom I could get, and sweep
the very first crossing I came to.

Still, under the circumstances, it was very clear that it would never do
to slam the door in her face, when she came to us, though, I declare, I
felt as if nothing would have given me greater pleasure than to have
done so; for really I don’t know anything more uncomfortable than to be
obliged to go bowing and scraping, and saying a lot of civil things to a
creature, when all the time you’re wishing to yourself that she was safe
at the bottom of the sea--as every lady with her proper feelings about
her knows she has been obliged to do scores and scores of times. Of
course, Mrs. Yapp would be professing all kinds of love for her “dear
boy,” and be continually crying up to the skies his beloved first wife,
and she would naturally expect me to go sympathizing with the poor dear,
when really and truly I didn’t care two pins about the thing. And it is
so unpleasant to a right-minded female like myself, to be forced to take
out one’s handkerchief, and play the crocodile about a bit of goods that
one had never been a penny the better for. Of course, too, she would
pretend to be so delighted to make my acquaintance, and unable to make
enough of me to my face, though, directly my back was turned, she would
go picking me to pieces like anything. Augh! I do detest deceit.

However, thank goodness, the next day’s post brought a letter directed
to Edward, which being in a woman’s handwriting, I naturally opened, and
found to my delight that Mrs. Yapp regretted to say that she couldn’t be
with “her pet” until that day week; so that, as Edward was coming home
on the Thursday, he could receive the old thing himself, and take that
load off my hands at any rate.

Well, on the Thursday home came Edward. Directly I heard his knock, I
snatched up a duster and began rubbing down the hall chairs, so that he
might not find a speck of dust in the house on his return; and I was
quite glad to see that my exertions were not thrown away upon him, for
he told me, that it was very wrong of me in my state to go fatiguing
myself in that way, and that he wished I would make the servant do it.
On which I said that if he expected Susan to take any pride about the
look of the furniture he was mightily mistaken, and he would find
himself eaten up alive in less than no time, if I wasn’t continually
slaving myself to death for him as I was.

Edward was in quite a good humour, for he had won his cause like a
clever lawyer, as he certainly is, though, as he said, all the facts,
and the law, and justice of the case, were dead against him. So, when I
broke to him the impending calamity of Mrs. Yapp’s visit, he took it
much better than I had expected, for he laughed, and said he should like
to see how old Mother Yapp and Mrs. B--ff--n would get on with one
another; for he expected they would come together like two
highly-charged thunder-clouds, and go off with a tremendous explosion,
which would have the effect of clearing the air of his house, so that he
would be left in a perfect heaven. And then the jocular monster
tittered, and said that if he had been doomed to have only one
mother-in-law, it was clear that he must have ended his days in a
madhouse, but that as Providence had blessed him with two, he was as
happy as a man who had married an orphan; for as mothers-in-law were the
invariable negatives of domestic happiness, it was clear that two of
them must make his home an affirmative paradise; adding that one was the
poison and the other the antidote, so that, thank Heaven, now, if at any
time he was suffering from an over-dose of mother-in-law B--ff--n, he
had only to make up his mind to swallow a little of mother-in-law Yapp,
and he would be all right again in no time; for the bitter alkali of the
one would correct the acidity of the other, and drive off the dreadful
effects of both in a twinkling. Then he went on giggling and railing at
mothers-in-law in general, and at my dear mother, and the mother of his
first wife, in particular, till I lost all patience with him; for he
declared that a whole avalanche of treatises had been written on the
origin of evil, and a mountain of rubbish shot into the British Museum
about the cause of sorrow in this world; but it was very plain, and he
had no doubt about it himself, that misery first came in with
mothers-in-law, who he considered, to have been sent on earth to try the
resignation of Man, and to prevent the over-population of the world, by
setting them up as warnings to persons about to marry--in the same way
as the horrors of dyspepsia and gout were designed, simply as a means of
keeping persons from the excesses of the table. It was all very well to
talk about Job’s extraordinary patience, but what he wanted to know was,
had Job ever been scourged with a mother-in-law, because if not, it was
very clear that his powers of endurance had not been taxed to the full.
And he had the wickedness to say, that it was all a pack of rubbish and
a cruel imposition for the law to declare that a man couldn’t marry his
grandmother--or his mother--or his wife’s mother--or his wife’s
sister--for the plain truth was, that when a man married a woman, he
married her whole family. But I couldn’t put up with him any longer,
when he protested, that if he had his way, he would have an act passed
for the total abolition of all mothers-in-law, and insert a clause, that
whenever a couple were joined together in holy matrimony, immediately
after the wedding breakfast, the mother of the bride should offer
herself up as a willing sacrifice, to perfect the happiness of the
bridegroom, in the same way as the Hindoo widows immolated themselves
out of regard to the husband. On which I very properly told him that he
ought to be ashamed of himself to talk in that way of those poor
benighted savages, and I begged that he would hold his tongue if he
couldn’t find anything better to talk about, saying that his trip out of
town seemed to have turned his head; and asking him how he himself would
like what he had proposed, if, supposing I was to be blessed with a
daughter, and had to be put out of the way when she got married, all for
the sake of completing the happiness, as he called it, of some
big-whiskered fellow, that I didn’t care twopence about. But it was
useless speaking to him, for he only said that he should be delighted to
see me setting so good an example.

As I saw that my gentleman was in one of his nasty, teasing, facetious
moods, I thought it best to turn the conversation, which I very cleverly
did by asking him what kind of a woman Mrs. Yapp was, when he burst out
laughing again, assuring me that she was a very nice woman, only she was
too fond of her medicine-bottle, and was dreadfully addicted to doctor’s
stuff; for she took pills as if they were green peas, and seemed to have
as strong a penchant for powders as other people had for snuff. And he
considerably alarmed me by saying that the worst of it was, she had a
strange conviction that all her friends stood as much in need of
medicine as she did, as she was never happy unless she could prevail
upon some one to try some of her filthy potions or lotions, and which
she always would have it were just the things one wanted; and really she
herself had swallowed so much rhubarb, and senna, and camomile, in her
time, that she had a complexion for all the world like a Margate
slipper, although she would tell you, that if it wasn’t for what she had
taken, she would never have had a bit of colour in her cheeks. When she
came up to town last time, she wouldn’t let Edward drink a drop of tea;
for she would insist that the green was made up of verdigris, and that
the black was all coloured with lead, and that the only way to ensure a
long life was to take two or three cups of good strong nettle or
dandelion for breakfast every morning, and which, she said, she highly
recommended for family use. He cautioned me, however, above all things,
never to allow her to persuade me to try any of her nostrums, for that
he verily believed she had physicked her daughter into an early grave,
and that if I allowed her to go playing any pranks with the very fine
constitution I have of my own, I should find that her powder and pills
would bring me down as safe as powder and shot. So I told him that he
wouldn’t catch me taking any of her nasty messes, and I hoped and
trusted that he would get her out of the house as soon as ever he
possibly could.

At length, the day arrived for my lady’s coming, and Edward would have
me get a nice little dinner ready for her. So I warmed up some of the
pea-soup we had left the day before, and which was as nice as any I had
ever tasted; and then I thought a sweet, tender, juicy steak, well
stewed, with a good thick gravy, would be as delicious a thing as she
could well sit down to--indeed, I’m very partial to it myself--and with
three or four pork chops, well browned, with the kidney in them, just to
put at the end of the table, and a sweet little plum-pudding, with
brandy sauce, to face me, and a few custards opposite Edward, and after
that, just a mouthful of macaroni, with a little cheese grated over it,
and a stick or two of celery to follow--I fancied it would be a very
nice dinner for her, and one that I felt I could enjoy myself.

Bother take it! Edward would make me go dancing all the way down to the
Regent’s Circus, just to meet Mrs. Yapp when she came by the coach,
though, as I said at the time, it would seem as if we were too glad to
see her. However, as my husband, I regret to say, never will listen to
reason, I had to put on my bonnet, and go to the expense of a cab, just
to please his foolish whim; and after that, to stand in the
coach-office like a ninny, waiting for the stage to come in. When it
did, I went up to a middle-aged lady, who looked as bilious as a bar of
yellow soap, and asked her, with a pleasing smile, “whether her name
happened to be Yapp?” But she looked at me very suspiciously, and said,
“It was no such thing.” And then I tried everybody else, but no Mrs.
Yapp could I find; so, after all, drat it, I had to jump into the cab
again, and get home as fast as I could: and there was three and sixpence
for cab hire literally and truly thrown away in the dirt, (which wasn’t
coming out of the housekeeping, I could tell Mr. Sk--n--st--n,) besides
a dinner good enough for an emperor positively wasted; for Mr. Edward
must needs be so clever, that he would have I had made some mistake, and
insisted upon the dinner being thrown back for an hour and a half at
least; though I declare I was so hungry after my ride, and the very
smell of it was so tantalizing, that I was ready to eat the ends of my
fingers off. When it did come up, of course it was all as dry as a chip,
without so much as a drop of gravy: and if there is one thing, to me,
worse than another, it is a rump-steak stewed till it is quite dry.
There was the macaroni, too, which I had set my heart upon, all spoilt,
so that it was, for all the world, like eating bits of wax taper. And I
told Edward, pretty plainly, that I wouldn’t give a thank you for my
dinner at that time of night, but would sooner have a mouthful of
something with my tea; for I do think that when a body is worn out with
the fatigues of the day, and one has gone past one’s regular hour for
one’s meals,--I do think, I say, that a nice strong cup of warm tea,
with a pinch or two of green in it, is better than all the dinners in
the world put together in a heap; for it does revive one so, if one can
only get it good, (which I find a great difficulty now-a-days, though I
pay six shillings a pound for every spoonful that I use;) besides, I
declare I’d sooner go without my dinner than my tea, any day; and I am
sure all my fair readers must be of the same way of thinking as myself.

But let me see,--where was I? Oh, I remember: I had left off at our
dinner. Well! as I was saying, our miserable, dried-up repast, could
scarcely have gone down stairs, and Susan was just sweeping the crumbs
off the tablecloth, when I heard a hackney coach draw up at our door,
and, lo and behold! who should it contain but that bothering Mrs. Yapp,
who had come with three hair trunks, a portmanteau, two bonnet-boxes,
one band ditto, and a bundle, as if she was going to stop a whole
twelvemonth with us.

When she came in, I declare upon my word and honour, if she was’nt the
very woman, with a complexion like fullers-earth, that I had asked at
the coach-office, whether her name was Yapp. And on reminding her of it,
she said, she was very sorry for the mistake, but really and truly she
had heard so much about the tricks of London people, that she could’nt
be expected to go telling her name to the first stranger she met with.
So she had thought that the safest plan, to prevent being imposed upon,
was to jump with her boxes into a hackney coach, and tell the man to
drive her to our house. The fellow, however, had been three hours at
least galloping about with her, and had taken her over to Stockwell
Park, and Highbury Park, and every other park he could think of, in
search of Park Village. For of course the man saw that she was fresh
from the country, and had determined to make the most of her; so she had
to pay upwards of half a sovereign for her nasty suspicions of me, (your
bilious people are always so suspicious,) and which I was heartily glad
of.

Of course she was so happy to see her dear boy, “whose house she was
going to make her home;” and declared she was delighted to make _my_
acquaintance. Edward very imprudently would go inquiring after her
health, when immediately off my lady went, and kept us for full half an
hour, giving us a whole catalogue of all her illnesses and cures, and
telling us how she had discovered a new pill which had really worked
miracles with her. As I kept saying, “Indeed,” and “Bless me,” and “You
don’t say so,” and appearing very interested--though all the time I
could have wished her further--she had the impudence to tell me that, as
a treat, she would let me have a couple to try on the morrow, for she
could plainly see my liver was out of order--though, as I said to myself
at the time, I should like to know what my liver was to her indeed.
However, I slipped out of the room to look after Susan and the tray, and
made her warm up one of the pork chops, and bring it up with the tea.
But no sooner did my lady see it, than she said it would be death to her
if she touched it, and before she let me make the tea, she would go and
undo one of her boxes in the hall, just to get out a loaf of digestive
bread, and a bottle of filthy soda; and if she didn’t force me to put
half a teaspoonful at least into the pot, telling me that it would
correct all the acidity, and make the tea go twice as far--which I can
easily understand, as I’m sure neither Edward nor myself could touch it;
for I declare it was more like soap-suds than full-flavoured wiry Pekoe.
The worst of it was, too, I was obliged to say it “was very nice, I was
sure;” and I could see _that_ Edward, laughing away in his sleeve at
every sip I took. Then she would sit all the evening with her shawl over
her shoulders, declaring that the draughts came in at our door enough to
cut her in two; and, bother take it, she made me go down stairs and see
that the sheets for her bed were well aired--and give orders for a fire
to be lighted in her room--and the feather-bed put down before it--and a
pan of hot water to be taken up for her at ten precisely--and for a few
spoonfuls of brown sugar to be put into the warming-pan with the coals,
before warming her bed; adding that, with a good large basin of gruel,
and a James’s powder in it, she thought she should do for _that_ night.
And really I should have thought so too. But what pleased me most was,
that she said she was putting me to a great deal of trouble. And I
should think she was too--though of course I was forced to assure her
that she wasn’t, and that nothing gave me more pleasure than to be able
to assist one with such a bad constitution as she appeared to have of
her own. Whereupon she flew at me very spitefully, and told me I was
never more mistaken in all my life, for every one that knew her allowed,
that if it hadn’t been for her very fine constitution, and a score of
Morison’s Number Two’s daily, she should have been in Abraham’s bosom
long ago; and that I should be a lucky woman if my constitution was half
as fine as hers. So as I saw it was useless arguing the point with her,
I let her have her own way, and was’nt at all sorry when ten o’clock
came, and I had seen her fairly up stairs to her bed-room, where she
kept Susan a good three-quarters of an hour at least fiddle-faddleing
and tying her flannel petticoat round her head, and tucking her up, and
pinning her shawl before the window, and what not.

Next morning, when she came down to breakfast, she told us that she had
got the rheumatism in both her legs so bad, that she had been forced to
wrap them up in brown paper, which she said she found to be the best of
all remedies, and an infallible cure; and sure enough there she was
going about the house with her legs done up for all the world like a
pair of new tongs in an ironmonger’s shop. All breakfast time, she would
tell us how she had made it a duty to try every new cure as fast as it
came up, and how she supposed she must have written in her time at least
thirty testimonials of wonderful cures effected upon her by different
medicines, which, she said, she had since found out had never done her
any good at all. At one time, she swore by brandy and salt, and she took
so much of it, that, instead of curing her illness, she verily believed
she was only curing herself like so much bacon. At another period, she
had pinned her faith entirely to cold water, and she was sure she must
have swallowed a small river in her time; she had had it pumped upon her
too, and sat in it, and bathed in it, and slept in it, she might say,
for she went to bed in nothing but damp sheets for a year and
more--until really she had washed every bit of colour out of her cheeks;
and she felt that if she was to wring her hands, water would run from
them like a wet flannel. After that, she had gone raving mad about
homœopathy, and had nearly starved herself to death with its finikin
infinitessimal doses; for whole weeks she used to take nothing for
breakfast but the billionth part of a spoonful of tea in a quart of
boiling water, and the ten thousandth part of an ounce of butter to
eight sixty-sixths of a quartern loaf; while her dinner had frequently
consisted of three ounces and two drachms of the lean of a neck of
mutton made into broth with a gallon of water, flavoured with three
pennyweights of carrot, and a scruple of greens, and seasoned with two
grains and a half of pepper, and the sixteenth of a pinch of salt.
Since, however, she had discovered her wonderful pill, she had left all
her other specifics, and never felt so well, and consequently so happy,
before: and then she pulled out a box, and would make me take a couple
of the filthy little things with my tea, saying that they would make me
so comfortable and good-tempered, that I should hardly know myself
again.

Immediately after the breakfast things had been taken away, I slipt on
my things, and stepped round to dear mother’s, just to tell her what a
dreadful creature we had got in the house, and that I really began to
have fears for my life again. When the dear, affectionate old lady had
heard of Mrs. Yapp’s fearful goings-on, she said that it really would
not be safe to trust me alone with such a woman during my confinement;
and that, as my mother, she insisted upon being allowed to come and
sleep in the house, too. Though I told her I didn’t know how we were to
manage it, unless she consented to take half of Mrs. Yapp’s bed--which,
I regretted to say, was only a small tent, and it was impossible to say
how it would ever be able to hold the pair of them. But the dear, good
old soul declared, she didn’t mind what hardship she underwent, so long
as she was by, to watch over me, and prevent my being poisoned to death
by pills, and herbs, and draughts, and such like. I told her, it was
very kind indeed of her, and I had no doubt that Mr. Sk--n--st--n would
be as grateful to her as I was; and we arranged together that she should
sleep in the house that very night.

When I informed Edward of what my mother had so kindly consented to do
for me, he began grinning again, and said, that he was delighted to hear
it, for that he was sure such a state of things could not last long, and
that he should have the pair of them getting together by the ears, and
going at it hammer and tongs, and both his dear mothers-in-law leaving
the premises in less than a week--thank Heaven! Though when I told him
that I didn’t know where on earth I could put him to, unless, indeed, I
made him up a nice comfortable bed on the sofa in the back drawing-room,
with coats and cloaks, and odd things, to cover him--for Mrs. Yapp, I
regretted to say, had got all the spare blankets we had--of course he
must go flying into a passion again, and said that matters had come to a
pretty pass, when a man’s mothers-in-law walked into his house, and
didn’t leave him even a bed to lie upon. And after he had railed against
Mrs. B--ff--n and Mrs. Yapp till he was quite out of breath, he got a
little better tempered, and said, that as it would be impossible for his
two blessed mothers-in-law to sleep in the same bed without falling out,
why he didn’t mind what amicable arrangement he came to, so long as he
could make them enemies for life.

Next day, nurse came; and really she was such a nice, goodnatured, fat,
motherly old soul, that it was quite pleasant to have a little quiet
chat with her. Her name was Mrs. Toosypegs, and she was the widow--poor
thing--of a highly respectable eating-house keeper, who, she assured me,
used to do such a deal in the eating line, that he would sometimes have
as many as five hundred dinners a day. Unfortunately, however, one
evening, “the spirit of progress”--as they call it--got into his head,
and he would go having an ordinary for the Million, every day, at every
half-hour, at only fifteen-pence a head. But the Million--drat ’em!--had
every one of them the appetites of a hundred; and the consequence was,
that there was no satisfying them, although he gave them oceans of soup,
and as much fish as they could eat, by way of what he called a damper to
their raging appetites; though really it seemed quite thrown away upon
them: for, Lord bless you, when the joint was brought up, they seemed to
be as fresh and ravenous as ever, and would fall-to at the meat, as if
the Million were a parcel of boa-constrictors, and only in the habit of
being fed twice a year. And she declared that, often and often, the
waiters had to shake many of the Million to wake them up and get them to
pay; and that when they swept up the room of a night, she had, over and
over again, collected several gross of waistcoat buttons, which the
greedy young ogres had actually burst off with her husband’s food. So
that at last the blessed Million positively eat Mr. Toosypegs through
the Insolvent Court, and left him little or nothing to satisfy his poor
creditors with; and this so preyed upon her dear man’s mind, that in an
insane moment of despair, he raised his own boiled-beef knife against
himself, and fell, like another Cook, a victim to the Cannibals who
prowled about _To-heat-he_. After which, Mrs. Toosypegs informed me she
had been put to it so hard, that she had been obliged to go out nursing;
and, thank goodness! she had done as well as could be expected; for
though she had no dear little Toosypegs of her own, still she had
brought such numbers of children into the world, that she could not help
looking upon herself in the light of a mother of a very large
family--indeed, she was always speaking of the little pets she had
nursed as if they were her own flesh and blood; for at one time she
would talk to me of a very fine boy she had had in Torrington Square,
and at another, of her beautiful twins at Ball’s Pond; and then, of a
sweet little flaxen-haired beauty of a little girl of hers with eleven
toes, that she had had at Captain Jones’s, at Puddle Dock. And really,
last year, she said she had had as many as eight confinements in the
course of the twelvemonth, and which had been almost more than she had
strength to go through with. Her last lying-in had been in the suburbs,
near Stockwell Park; and what made her month very agreeable was, that
the family lived in a long terrace, and she knew all the neighbours’
little secrets; for all kinds of strange reports used to travel from
house to house, over the garden walls, or else from door to door, when
the maids were cleaning the steps of a morning. And she advised me, if
ever I took a house in a terrace a little way out of town, to be very
careful that it was the centre one--at least, if I had any regard for my
reputation. For I must be well aware that a story never lost by telling;
and consequently, if I lived in the middle of a row of houses, it was
very clear that the tales which might be circulated against me would
only have half the distance to travel on either side of me, and
therefore could only be half as bad, by the time they got down to the
bottom of the terrace, as the tales that might be circulated against the
wretched individuals who had the misfortune to live at the two ends of
it; so that I should be certain to have twice as good a character in the
neighbourhood as they had. For instance, she informed me of a lamentable
case that actually occurred while she was there. The servant at No. 1
told the servant at No. 2 that her master expected his old friends the
Baileys to pay him a visit shortly; and No. 2 told No. 3 that No. 1
expected to have the Baileys in the house every day; and No. 3 told No.
4 that it was all up with No. 1, for they couldn’t keep the bailiffs
out; whereupon 4 told 5 that the officers were after No. 1, and that it
was as much as he could do to prevent himself being taken in execution,
and that it was nearly killing his poor, dear wife; and so it went on,
increasing and increasing, until it got to No. 32, who confidently
assured the last house, No. 33, that the Bow-street officers had taken
up the gentleman who lived at No. 1, for killing his poor dear wife
with arsenic, and that it was confidently hoped and expected that he
would be executed at Horsemonger-lane jail, as the facts of the case
were very clear against him. All which, Mrs. Toosypegs said, proved,
very clearly, that servants were a “bad lot,” and that there was no
trusting ’em with anything, but what they must go wasting their time
gossiping and putting it about all over the neighbourhood. Though, for
her own part, she always made it a rule to shut her ears against all
scandal.

Edward was quite right; for Mrs. Yapp, when she found that dear mother
only turned her nose up at her filthy medicines, tried to see how
disagreeable she could make herself to my respected parent. And I
declare, on the very first night, they both went quarrelling up stairs
to bed, where dear mother--who, being a stout woman, has always
accustomed herself to sleep cool--would insist upon having two of the
blankets, and all the cloaks, taken off the bed, for she protested that,
what with the fire, and the shawl pinned before the window, there wasn’t
a breath of air stirring in the room, saying, that, for her part, she
should like to have the window open. This, that disagreeable old Mrs.
Yapp declared would be certain death to her, and she shouldn’t allow
anything of the kind; and scarcely had poor dear mother taken the
blankets off the bed, than Mrs. Yapp rushed up, and began putting them
on again; so there they both stood for a good hour at least, one taking
them off as fast as the other put them on, until they got tired, and
agreed that if Mrs. Yapp would forego making up the fire for the night,
and consent to waive the warming-pan, why, my dear, good, obliging
mother would, in her turn, allow the coddling old thing to have as many
blankets, and gowns, and cloaks on her side as she liked. But no sooner
had they got into the small bed than they both began growling away, and
each declaring that the other had got more than her proper share of it,
so that mother told me that neither of them got a wink of sleep all
night. And really, when they came down to breakfast the next morning,
they wouldn’t open their mouths to each other--much to that wicked
Edward’s delight, who kept rubbing his hands, and pressing mother to try
a couple of tea-spoonfuls of Epsom salts, as Mrs. Yapp did in her tea,
and asking the old she-quack whether she did not think Mrs. B--ff--n’s
liver was out of order, and what she would recommend for her under the
circumstances.

That evening, whilst we were at dinner, a parcel came, with a letter for
me, which, on opening, proved to be from those dear, sweet girls, the
two Misses B--yl--s’s, saying “they would feel much obliged if I would
present the accompanying article to one who would call for it in a day
or two.” On undoing the parcel, I declare if it wasn’t a beautiful white
satin pincushion, with a superb lace border, while on it was printed in
pins--
        +-------------------+
        |     WELCOME       |
        |                   |
        | LITTLE STRANGER.  |
        +-------------------+

This, of course, was fine nuts to crack for Mr. Edward; who must go
cutting his stupid jokes upon a subject which as I told him at the time,
I thought would be much better left alone. But there was no stopping
him; and he wanted to send out for a pennyworth of baby-pins, and put an
_s_ to the stranger--saying that the Misses B--yl--s’s had sent it to me
only half-finished.

On the 22nd of March, 1841, the following advertisement appeared in the
_Times_ and the _Morning Post_:--“On the 20th instant, at Duvernay
Villa, P--rk V--ll--ges, R--g--nt’s P--rk, the lady of Edward
Sk--n--st--n, Esq., of a daughter.” And quite early on the morning of
the day mentioned in the advertisement, anybody passing our house might
have seen my dear mother tying up our knocker with a white kid glove.

My baby was the loveliest tiddy ickle sing of a ducks-o’-diamonds that I
think I ever saw in all my life--and, thank Heaven! all its little limbs
were straight, and it hadn’t a single blemish upon it--if, indeed, I
except some strange marks it had on one side of its beautiful little
neck, and which I told nurse I was as certain as certain could be was a
letter and some figures; for I could make out a perfect F, and a 4 and
a 2, and when I cast it up in my own mind, I remembered this was exactly
what that impudent, big-whiskered monkey of a policeman, who had
frightened me so by winking at me, had got printed on the collar of his
coat. At first, I was rather vexed that it wasn’t a boy; for, to tell
the truth, I had set my heart upon having one. When, however, I came to
turn it over in my mind, I wasn’t at all sorry that it was a girl, for
she would be such a nice companion for me when she grew up, and, of
course, would take all the trouble of the house off my hands. Besides, I
do think boys are such Turks, and so difficult for a woman to manage, so
that, as it was a mere toss-up between the two, I do think, if I had had
a choice in the matter, I should have cried “woman” after all.

I wish any one could only have seen my dear, dear mother--I can assure
them it really was a treat worth living for--sitting by the fireside,
with my little unconscious angel lying in her lap, and pulling down its
sweet little nose, so as to seduce it into symmetry. She told me the
first duty a mother owed to her infant was to pay proper attention to
its nose, as really, at that tender age, it was as plastic as putty, and
could be drawn out just like so much india-rubber; indeed, Nature, she
might say, seemed to have kindly placed the child’s nose in its mother’s
hands, and left it for her to say whether the cherub should be blessed
with an aquiline, or cursed with a snub. I had to thank herself, she
said, for the shape of mine; for when I was born, she really had fears
that it would take after my father, and his was a bottle; so that it was
only by never neglecting my nasal organ for an instant, and devoting
every spare minute she had to its growth and formation, that she had
been able to rescue it from the strong likeness it had, at first, to my
father’s. And she begged of me to carry this maxim with me to my
grave--“That noses might be grown to any shape, like cucumbers; and that
it was only for the mother to decide whether the infant nasal gherkin
should be allowed to run wild, and twist itself into a ‘turn up,’ or
should, by the process of cultivation, be forced to grow straight, and
elongate itself into a Grecian.” And then the dear, good body informed
me that, touching the dear cherub’s eyes, I should find they would
require a great deal of looking after--indeed, quite as much as the
nose; for all children naturally squinted, and she thought nothing on
earth looked so dreadful and vulgar as to see a pair of eyes wanting to
go different ways, for all the world like two perverse greyhounds
coupled together; and she was convinced that goggle-eyes and
swivel-eyes, and, in fact, every other variety of eye but the right,
merely arose from bad nursing. Consequently, I ought to be very careful
not to allow any nurse with even so much as a cast to enter my service,
until my little dear had learnt to look straight before it. And, above
all, I was to be very particular, for some time to come, never to permit
my little petsy wetsy to look over its head, for fear its eyes should
become fixed in that uncomfortable position, and I should have my poor
little girl walking about with them always turned up like a methodist
preacher. Then she begged of me, as I loved my baby, never to allow it
to yawn without putting my hand under its chin, to prevent it dropping
its jaw, or I should have the misery of seeing my eldest daughter going
through the world with its mouth always open, like a carriage dog, or
one of the French toy nut-crackers. Moreover, she said she hoped I would
be very particular with the little darling’s little wee legs; for if I
should be imprudent enough to rub them downwards, as sure as her name
was B--ff--n, I should have the pleasure of seeing them in after life
with no more calf to them than an ostrich’s; whereas, if I took care to
rub them upwards every morning, then, when she grew up, I should have
the satisfaction of beholding the dear with as fine a pair of legs as an
opera-dancer, or, she might say, a fashionable footman. So that, by the
time dear mother had finished her instruction, I plainly saw, from what
she said, that Nature had not done half its duty to babies, but had sent
them into the world with their joints as imperfectly put together as
cheap furniture, and that if the greatest care wasn’t taken with them,
they would be as certain to warp in all kinds of ways as any of the
other articles which are puffed off as such temptations to persons about
to marry.

My poor Edward was nearly out of his wits with joy at having such a
beautiful child; and the stupid ninny would go giving Mrs. Toosypegs
half a sovereign when she declared that it was the very image of its
papa--and so the little angel was. But my gentleman must go cutting his
stupid jokes again, and saying that as he missed a silver spoon
down-stairs, he should like to know whether the child had been born with
one in its mouth--which set Mrs. Toosypegs off laughing so violently,
that she seemed to think that she might as well work out her half
sovereign that way as any other. So, upon that, Mr. Edward went on, and
said, that as it hadn’t been born with a silver spoon, perhaps it had
with a Britannia metal one, which, he said, would be quite as lucky, as
every one knew that it was a very good substitute for silver.

I was much gratified to hear a gentle ring at the street-door bell,
which, I felt sure, was some one come to inquire after my health; and as
Miss Susan was out, I told Mrs. Toosypegs to tell whoever it was that I
had got a very fine little girl, and that we were going on as well as
could be expected. When she came up again, she told me that it was a
life guardsman, with tremendous big black mustachios, who said he was
quite delighted to hear it; so I at once saw that it was none other than
that dreadful amorous ogre of a Ned Twist, who was making such violent
cupboard love to my maid; and I asked Mrs. Toosypegs whether she had
ever noticed any strange goings on in the kitchen, and requested her, as
a favour, to keep a sharp eye upon Susan. I felt satisfied, that now she
had got me safe in bed, she would be carrying on fine games, and I
should be having half the barracks at supper in my kitchen every night;
so I begged of Mrs. Toosypegs, whenever she went down-stairs, to make a
point of looking in the coal-cellar, saying that was the cage in which
she stowed her Robbing Red-breasts--as Edward very cleverly calls them.

Mrs. Yapp, I regret to say, made herself very disagreeable throughout
the whole business, and would have it that mother was conspiring against
my daughter and myself to kill us. The fact was, they were both at
daggers drawn about the way in which my baby and myself ought to be
treated; for one was for bathing the little darling in cold water, and
the other in warm; and the one for bandaging it up like a little mummy,
and the other letting its beautiful little limbs be perfectly free. One
would have it that the soothing syrup was really what it professed to
be, a blessing to mothers, while the other declared that it was nothing
more than a poison to children. As for myself, one said I could never
get round if I didn’t have plenty of air, and the other vowed that I
should never get up again if the room wasn’t kept as close as possible.
Dear mother assured me that I could only gain strength by taking as much
solid food as I could manage, while Mrs. Yapp persisted in telling me,
that in my state I ought to take nothing but slops--at least, if I
wanted to get well; and they used to pester the poor doctor so, whenever
he came, that at last he took offence, and said, that as he saw that I
was in very good hands, he thought his services were no longer required.
Somehow or other, Mrs. Toosypegs seemed to agree with everybody; so that
I could not tell what on earth to do. Every day at dinner there was a
regular fight at my bedside; for mother would insist upon my just taking
a mouthful of the lean of a mutton-chop that she had cooked for me,
while Mrs. Yapp declared that it would be the death of me, and would
stand begging and praying of me to try a spoonful or two of her nice
gruel--so, between the two, I couldn’t get either any rest or food, for
they neither would allow me to touch what the other recommended. And I
do verily believe, if it hadn’t been for Mrs. Toosypegs giving me, on
the sly, whatever I took a fancy to, I must, positively and truly, have
been starved to death.

Directly the little cherub of a baby, too, used to cry, they both raced
after each other up-stairs. One said it had got the wind, and the other
the stomach-ache; and mother prescribed a spoonful of dill-water with
some sugar, while the other stood out for as much rhubarb and magnesia
as would lie on a sixpence.

All this delighted Edward extremely to hear, and he said that things
were going on beautifully; and they were both of them getting as
miserable and discontented as he could possibly have wished. At the same
time, he desired Mrs. Toosypegs never to allow the ladies to come
bothering me, and on no account to pay any attention to what either of
them said; for the wicked rogue told me, that, in order to bring about
the explosion he so devoutly prayed for, he always made it a point of
siding with both of them. Accordingly, whenever Mrs. Yapp came
complaining to him, he invariably agreed with her that Mrs. B--ff--n
knew nothing about the treatment of infants, and he should take it as a
favour if she would keep dear mother from interfering with me as much as
possible;--while, on the other hand, whenever Mrs. B--ff--n asked him
what she had better do, he always told her Mrs. Yapp was quite ignorant
of the management of children, and that, of course, he wished my dear
mother to prevent her from coming into the bedroom at all. So he
supposed it was this that made them both so determined on pursuing their
own plans; and though he assured me it was far from comfortable work
sleeping upon that wretched sofa in the back drawing-room, with nothing
but cloaks to cover him, still, he said, he shouldn’t murmur, if it was
stuffed with broken bottles instead of horse-hair, so long as his two
mothers-in-law slept together, and had an opportunity of carrying on
their quarrels in bed.

So matters went on; until, I declare to goodness, I got nearly as sick
and tired of my own dear mother as I was worn out of all patience with
the mother of my husband’s poor first wife; and I began to wish to be
quit of them both nearly as much as Edward did. I verily believe their
continual quarrellings, and bickerings, and squabblings, threw me back
frightfully; and, indeed, Mrs. Toosypegs told me, that, with the very
fine constitution I have of my own, I ought to have been out of bed and
about at least ten days earlier than I was, (it was more than a month
before I got thoroughly down-stairs.) To my great horror, just before
Mrs. Toosypegs went, she brought me word that the small-pox had broken
out among the soldiers in Albany-street Barracks; and as I knew that
those soldiers _would_ come bothering after our pretty Susan, of course
I saw clear enough that they would be bringing it into the house in
their red jackets, and I should have my little girl catching it--poor
innocent dear--and perhaps growing up with her face full of holes, and
looking for all the world like a sponge. So I determined pretty
quickly on getting nurse to go with me to the establishment in
Bloomsbury-square, and get the sweet cherub vaccinated.

Accordingly, on the morrow, we jumped into a cab, and went down to the
place. When we got there, I may safely say I never saw such a beautiful
sight in all my life. If there was one dear little baby, I’m sure there
must have been at least a hundred; and I really felt as if I could have
taken them all in my arms, and hugged them every one--though, I must
say, that the noise they made was almost too much for me, for what with
the cries of some fifty of them, and the prattling of the mothers to the
rest--I declare it was for all the world like the parrot-room at the
Zoological Gardens. When _my_ turn came for going in with my child to
the doctor, I told Mrs. Toosypegs she must take the child, for I knew I
should never be able to bear the sight of that unfeeling wretch of a
doctor poking his great big lancet into its pretty little arms; and that
I should go making a stupid of myself, and fainting right off at the
first drop of blood I saw. So in went nurse, while I stopped outside,
and, to drive the thoughts out of my mind, I began playing with a very
nice respectable child that was next to me. While I was amusing myself
in this way, a poor woman, seeing my arms empty, came up to me, and
asked me if I would be kind enough to hold her child for a few minutes,
while she stepped out to get a glass of water, for the heat of the place
was really too much for her. Of course, I was very glad to oblige her,
like a stupid, and, taking her baby, I said, “Certainly, with a great
deal of pleasure”--though, if I had known what was going to happen then,
I most assuredly would have seen her further first.

When nurse came back with my own poor dear little thing crying its
beautiful blue eyes out, I told her to sit down with it just for a
moment, while I went and looked after the other poor thing’s mother,
who, I feared, from the time she had been gone for the drop of water she
spoke about, must have fainted off in the passage! But though I looked
all about for her, both outside and inside the house, to my great
horror, she was nowhere to be found. So I marched back, and sat down,
and waited until all the mothers and children had gone, and nurse and
myself and the two babies were the only people left in the place, when I
really began to grow dreadfully alarmed, for I felt assured that some
dreadful accident or mistake must have occurred. And when the porter
came to tell me I must go, as he wanted to shut up the doors, I informed
him of what had happened, and asked him to let me leave the brat with
him, so that he might give it to the mother when she called. But the
brute would not hear of such a thing, and said that the best way would
be for me to take it home with me, and leave my address with him, and
then he could send the mother up to me when she came after it.
Accordingly I gave the man my card, with particular instructions that he
was to make the woman come on to me as fast as her legs would carry her,
directly she called; for as I very truly said at the time, I didn’t know
how I should ever be able to get through the night with the pair of
them.

When we got home, there was a fine piece of work with the pair of them,
for the little brat of a stranger wouldn’t eat a thing, though we tried
with both the spoon and the bottle, and really squalled in such a way
that I was obliged to give it something to pacify it. Edward was so
surly at the noise the two children made, that I really thought, what
with the noise he and the babies made, I should have gone clean out of
my senses; for he said, I didn’t seem to think that two mothers-in-law
were sufficient to have in the house at once, but I must go adding to
them two babies.

I really do believe it must have been nearly eleven o’clock before I had
the doors done up, for I made certain that brute of a mother would never
think of leaving her child with me all night. But I soon found myself
preciously mistaken, for, on undressing the poor little half-starved
thing, I declare if there was not tacked to the body of its little
petticoat a strip of paper, on which was written:--“Plese to treet im
wel--Is name is Alfred;”--so that it was now as plain as the nose on my
face I had been made a regular fool of, and the unfeeling wretch of a
mother, observing, I dare say, my love for children, and that I was very
well dressed, was induced to single me out, drat her! as her victim; for
of course it was her intention, from the first, to make me adopt her
brat, whether I liked it or not.

As it was impossible to send the infant round to the workhouse at that
late hour of the night, why, I was obliged to take it up-stairs to bed
with me, and a precious night both Edward and I had of it, goodness
knows! For directly that little brute of an Alfred began to cry, of
course he set my little pet of a Kate off, too; consequently, while I
was trying to get the one off to sleep with a drop, I was obliged to
make Edward set up in bed and rock the other, which he did, all the
while grumbling and abusing me in a most shameful manner; wondering how
I could ever have been such a born idiot to have allowed myself to have
had a strange child put upon me in such a place.

Early in the morning, immediately after Edward had left for business, I
sent Susan off to the workhouse with the squalling young urchin,
instructing her to tell the parish authorities how shamefully I had been
imposed upon, and to say that I felt it to be my duty, under the
circumstances, to hand it over to them. But, hang it! there seemed to be
no chance of getting rid of the brat, for back came Susan, all in a
fluster, and said that the porter at the gate had told her, in a very
impudent manner, that I must come round myself the next Board day and
represent the case to the Guardians; and if the facts would bear
investigation, why, perhaps they might make out an order to have it
admitted.

Here was a pretty state to be in; for Susan said the next Board day
wasn’t for five days to come, and it was impossible for me ever to think
of keeping the child all that time, and I really felt as if I could have
put it in the old fish-basket we had in the house, and tied it to the
first knocker that I came to. Indeed, as it was, I did go up-stairs to
Mrs. Yapp, and both dear mother and myself tried, for upwards of an
hour, as hard as ever we could, to get her to adopt the poor little
foundling. But of course it was of no use appealing to the maternal
feelings of a hard-hearted creature like her; for we couldn’t get her to
take it, although both of us kept pointing out to her what a comfort, we
had no doubt, it would grow up to be to her in her old age, and what a
noble act she would be doing in rescuing the poor little innocent dear
from the workhouse, and, might be, a prison; saying that it was
impossible, under the circumstances, to tell what would become of
it--but it was all to no use. Although she has got four hundred a-year,
and no children, still the mean old thing positively refused to have
anything to do with the poor dear little “incumbrance,” but I do verily
believe that if the child had only had the good luck to be sickly, she
would willingly have consented to have acted the part of a mother to it,
if it was only for the sake of having some one to physic.

Consequently, I made up my mind to send it down to Edward by Susan,
telling him what the workhouse people had said, and begging him to go up
to them with it, and make them take it in directly, as I told him he
must very well know they were in law bound to do.

In about two hours, Susan came back, like a good girl, to my infinite
delight, without the baby. When I asked her what on earth she had done
with it, I thought I should have died with laughter; for she told me,
that on her way down to Chancery Lane she had met with Mary Hooper,--who
had been a fellow-servant of hers, and who is now living as nurserymaid
at Mr. C--tl--n’s, the solicitor, in John Street, Bedford Row--and as
she was going to take the two little Misses C--tl--n for a walk in
Gray’s-inn Gardens, of course my Miss Susan must go in with her.

While she was there, she said, there were some impudent young
barristers, whose chambers were on the ground floor, leaning out of one
of the windows at the back, and smoking their nasty cigars, and playing
the fool with the nursery maids, instead of minding their business. And
as she was walking up and down, they must needs go getting into
conversation with her; and pretending to admire the baby she had got in
her arms, first asking her how old it was, and then declaring that they
never before, in the whole course of their lives, saw such a fine boy
for his age; and then inquiring whether it was her own, and a whole pack
of other rubbish besides. At last one of the gentlemen, who she said had
got red hair and sandy whiskers, begged to be allowed to give the dear
little baby a kiss, as he was passionately fond of children. So she
handed the child up to him, and no sooner had the sharp fellow got hold
of it, than he refused to let her have it back again, unless she came
round to their chambers and fetched it herself; whereupon Susan told
him, that as he wouldn’t give the child up without it, she supposed she
must. But no sooner had she got outside the gardens, than it very
properly struck her, that as the gentleman was so fond of children, she
might just as well leave it with him altogether, instead of letting it
go to the workhouse, poor little pet!

I really thought I should have killed myself with laughing, for I
remembered I had that very morning, before sending the infant round to
the workhouse, sewed on again the identical strip of paper which I had
found stitched on to its little petticoat body, just to show it to the
workhouse authorities, and which requested the party into whose hands
the poor babe fell to treat it kindly, and that its name was Alfred.

I told Susan I was _very_ much pleased with what she had done, and I
gave her five shillings, and said she might go out for a holiday as soon
as she liked, adding, that she had in a very clever manner given the
impudent fellows a good deal more than they sent, and in a way that not
only showed she was one too many for them, but would teach them never
again to go making love to the child for the sake of the maid.

When Edward came home, he was as pleased as Punch. He declared it just
served the lawyers right, and was a bit of sharp practice that did Susan
much credit. And then he made a very good pun upon it, for he said that
he had a very great mind to go down and stick a board up in the gardens
opposite the window of the young fellow to whom Susan had handed the
innocent creature, with “Lambs taken in to _Gray’s Inn_ here,” painted
in large letters upon it.




CHAPTER IX.

     HOW, WHAT WITH ONE THING AND ANOTHER, IT REALLY IS A MERCY THAT I
     WAS NOT IN MY GRAVE LONG AGO.

    “For there’s nae luck about the house,
                  There’s nae luck at a’,
    There’s little pleasure in the house,” &c.
                 “THERE’S NAE LUCK ABOUT THE HOUSE.”


Positively I was no sooner out of one scrape, than, as sure as the next
day came round, I was safe to be in another. The beauty of it was, too,
that my unlucky stars (and having been born under Saturn, the reader may
well imagine that I’ve had no very pleasant time of it) seemed
determined I should invariably be the victim of other people’s
misdemeanours. For I always thought that that old quack of a Mrs. Yapp
would be the death of some of us, with her filthy medicines, and so she
nearly was--indeed, it’s quite a mercy that the whole house wasn’t dead
and buried long ago.

I think I mentioned somewhere before, that the old hen had got four
hundred a year, but positively, if it had only been five-and-twenty,
she couldn’t have been stingier than she was. I never knew her give a
penny away to a soul, and as for making any present to my dear little
Kitty-pitty, bless you, not even so much as a mere six-and-sixpenny
coral and bells did she give the angel, and which I thought was the very
least she could have done, after we had been keeping her in the handsome
way we had, without expecting the least return for it. If she could save
a farthing she would walk her legs off; indeed, I’ve known her go miles
just to get a thing a halfpenny a pound cheaper, though she must have
worn out at least sixpenny-worth of shoe leather in the journey.

Well, in one of her rambles after bargains, the old thing had stumbled
upon a little poking hole of an out-of-the-way chemist’s shop, with a
bill in the window, announcing that _they_ (pretty they!) were now
selling _their_ best Epsom salts at the low price of seven pounds a
shilling; and as my lady was in the habit of paying twopence and
threepence for every pound weight of the stuff she swallowed, why this
was a temptation that she could not resist; so she must needs go
prancing into the shop, saying she would take one pound just to try.

The old thing came home to dinner, quite full of her bargain, and she
would undo the parcel, and show us what a beautiful quality the stuff
was; declaring, that if it only turned out as good as she expected, she
would buy all there was in the place, for they were so cheap, she said,
that she felt perfectly satisfied they must have been stolen,--and
promising herself a couple of ounces of it, by way of a nice treat in
the morning.

At breakfast, the next day, she told us that it seemed as if some
superior power had led her to buy her salts yesterday; for she had just
heard from Susan that the small-pox had already reached the next door
but one, and she had no doubt that it would be our turn next. Then she
went on so dreadfully about it, and we all got so terribly alarmed, that
we were ready to do anything--for she kept dinning in our ears, that
vaccination was only good for seven years, and that the only chance we
had of escaping it, and preventing our faces being pitted all over like
a honeycomb, was to sweeten our blood with a little cooling medicine,
and that really a spoonful or two of her salts all round was just the
very thing we wanted. Edward too seemed to take a delight in aggravating
the horrors of the disease, and exaggerating the virtues of the remedy
which Mrs. Yapp had prescribed for us, and kept on until at last we did
as she wished, and swallowed a couple of spoonfuls each. After which I
had Miss Susan up, and made her take some, as well, for I had no idea of
having her laid up in the house, and paying, goodness knows what amount,
in doctor’s bills for her. But she was too much afraid of her complexion
and beauty being spoiled to require much persuasion.

Edward had gone to chambers when dear mother, who was reading the
advertisements in the _Times_, gave a loud scream, and cried out, “We
are all poisoned!” And sure enough she showed me an advertisement at the
top of the second column in the first page, headed CAUTION, and running
as follows:--

     “The stout, elderly Lady, with tortoiseshell spectacles, and
     dressed in a black straw bonnet, trimmed with canary ribbon, with a
     small squirrel tippet, and a black German velvet gown, is earnestly
     requested not to take any of the pound of Salts she bought at the
     Chemist’s in M--nm--th Str--t, S--v--n D--ls, and said she would
     have more if she liked them, as through the mistake of an
     inexperienced apprentice, she was served with Oxalic Acid instead.”

No one can imagine the dreadful state this threw us all into, and it was
as much as I could do to prevent mother from flying at Mrs. Yapp and
tearing her to pieces, limb by limb, on the spot; only I said that she
had much better turn her thoughts to some antidote, and leave the
wretched old woman to her own dreadful feelings. Whereupon, dear mother
merely called her a murderess some half-dozen times, and gave her to
understand, that even if she was lucky enough, to get over it, as sure
as their names were Yapp and B--ff--n, she would have her hung for it.
The old cat, however, told her not to talk in that foolish way--as she
had done it all for the best--but to see about taking as much chalk or
lime as we possibly could, as that was the only thing that could save
us. And then I declare if the old thing didn’t seize hold of the fire
shovel with one hand, and a plate off the breakfast table with the
other, and jumping up on a chair, began scraping away at my beautiful
ceiling, whilst I ran down-stairs, and, telling Susan what had happened,
and what Mrs. Yapp had prescribed as an antidote, we both of us made a
rush at the plaster of Paris images that the girl had stuck up over the
mantelpiece; and whilst she was devouring her beautiful painted parrot,
I eat Napoleon Bonaparte all but his boots.

Dear mother, who wouldn’t believe in anything that Mrs. Yapp said,
declared that nothing would do her good but candles, and the poor dear
soul had got through a whole rushlight and the better part of a long
six, by the time that Mrs. Toosypegs (whom I had packed off in a cab to
our doctor, and the chemist who had sold Mrs. Yapp the poison, and for
Edward) got back to us again, bringing the chemist himself with her, and
who said he was happy to inform us that it was all a mistake, and that
the packet of oxalic acid, which they had fancied the young man had
served the lady in tortoiseshell spectacles with, had been found, and
that we had taken nothing but the very best Epsom salts after all.

Edward came rushing in shortly afterwards; and when he heard that it had
only been a false alarm, I declare if he didn’t fall down on the sofa,
and nearly split his sides; which made us all so wild, that I really
felt as if I could have boxed the ears of the unfeeling monster; and I
know for a positive fact that dear mother’s hands were itching to do it
as well. As it was, the good old soul rated him soundly; for not being
able to contain herself, she flew out at him, and told him that he ought
to be ashamed of himself to lie there, as he was, chuckling over the
distresses of the very woman whom he had sworn to love and cherish in
sickness as well as in health--to say nothing of herself, who was my
mother--and that at a time, too, when he ought to go down on his bended
knees, and thank his stars for our miraculous escape. But Edward only
grinned the more, and kept telling her that it was as good fun as the
Derby-day, and that he had never known such capital sport after the
Epsom Cup before.

This was too much for my beloved parent; and she didn’t hesitate to tell
him that she wouldn’t stop in the house another minute; and, after his
inhuman, and, she might say, ungentlemanly conduct, would never set foot
in it again so long as she lived. And accordingly, out of the room she
bounced, and up-stairs she went, and having packed up her things, off
she took herself.

Directly Edward found how well he had got rid of dear mother, he began
to see what he could do with Mrs. Yapp. But though he said all kinds of
sharp, cutting things to her, still it was no good, for she hadn’t got
mother’s fine spirit, and really seemed to be as hard to get out of the
house as black beetles are. However, at one time, he did make her say,
that directly she learnt that her house in the country was fit to
receive her, and the smell of the paint was fairly out of it, she would
not trouble us any more with her company.

When at night I talked over the circumstances with Edward, I could not
help confessing to him, I was far from sorry that dear mother had left,
and that there was a prospect of Mrs. Yapp doing the same shortly--for,
what with one and the other, they so tormented poor Susan, that I
declare it was one round of noises from morning till night. First Mrs.
Yapp would come to me, saying, that Susan had insulted her in a most
disrespectful manner; and then Mrs. B--ff--n would march up to tell me
that she couldn’t get Susan to do a thing for her. And after that I
should have Mrs. Toosypegs come tearing up to say, that Susan had had
the impudence to assert that the kitchen was no place of hers; and
lastly, up would come Miss Susan herself, to know who was her
Missus--and whether it was Mrs. Yapp, Mrs. B--ff--n, Mrs. Toosypegs, or
myself; and declaring that it was more than one pair of hands could do
to attend to the whole of them. So as Mrs. B--ff--n had gone, and Mrs.
Toosypegs was going on the morrow, and Mrs. Yapp had threatened to go in
a few days, why, thank heavens, there seemed to be a chance of some
peace and comfort at last.

The day after Mrs. Toosypegs had left, Susan came to ask me whether it
would be convenient for me to let her have a holiday on the morrow, and
as I had been stupid enough to promise her one for getting rid of the
strange child in the clever way she had, I didn’t see how I could well
refuse, and consented to let her have one accordingly.

On the morrow, hearing my lady come down-stairs, I went to the window to
see how she looked; for I felt certain that she would be dressed out to
death. Sure enough, there she was, with at least six flounces to her
skirt, and a black trumpery imitation blond lace bonnet, with a lot of
bright red flowers stuck all about it, and what I would stake my

[Illustration: “_Going out for a Holiday._”]

existence was Mrs. Yapp’s green silk parasol--for I knew it by the
carved ivory handle; as she had over and over again told me, the stick
of it had been presented her by an old flame of hers, who was the third
officer of an East Indiaman.

However, as it wasn’t my parasol, of course I had got nothing to do with
it, and I had had quite hubbub enough in the house, without going making
any more noises about such a trumpery affair as that. Besides, if the
woman couldn’t spare time enough to look after her own things, why, I
wasn’t going to do it for her; and she had no right to go out for the
day as she had that morning, leaving her drawers open as a temptation to
the poor girl.

The day afterwards, I thought something was in the wind, for Miss Susan
came to me all of a fluster, and said that she should feel obliged if I
would let her have ten shillings in advance. I however very properly
gave her to understand that, as she had already had one pound fifteen on
account of her next quarter, I shouldn’t do anything of the kind, adding
that it really was astonishing to me what on earth she did with all her
money.

Miss Susan seemed to be dreadfully put out by my refusal, (and well the
wicked puss might, from what came out afterwards) for one evening,
Edward had just got home from chambers, when he met a man on the door
step, and on asking him what he wanted, he said that he wished to speak
with the lady who owned the parasol he had brought with him, and which
Edward knew very well belonged to Mrs. Yapp. So, when I opened the door,
my husband asked the man to step into the parlour, and finding Mrs. Yapp
there, told him that that was the lady he wanted. Whereupon the man said
he was the head waiter of the Chalk Farm Tavern, and had brought home
the parasol that she had left with his missus, on account of her not
having money enough to pay the whole of the bill she had incurred when
she was there with a life-guardsman. Mrs. Yapp blushed a bright orange
right up to her eyes, (for it was impossible for her bilious complexion
to blush crimson,) and said that it certainly was her parasol, but how
it ever came into the man’s possession she wouldn’t attempt to say; for
as to her ever having been inside a tavern with a life-guardsman, it was
an abominable, wicked falsehood, that it was, and the man was a
scoundrel to dare to come there and try to extort money from her under
any such shameful pretences.

I declare I could hardly smother my laughter with my
pocket-handkerchief, for, as I whispered in Edward’s ear, it was Susan,
I knew, that had been running up the bill there with that vagabond, Ned
Twist, and that two or three days before I had seen her going out with
that very parasol, I could see Edward was determined to have a bit of
fun, for, with a wicked smile, he asked the man whether there might not
be some mistake, for Mrs. Yapp was a highly respectable lady, and he
could not bring himself to believe that she would, at her time of life,
go keeping company with a life-guardsman. But the man said, “What
mistake can there be?--didn’t the lady acknowledge that the parasol was
hers?--and how should I have known where the owner of it lived, if she
hadn’t at the time given her address. But of course she wont acknowledge
it, because I’ve mentioned it before company; though I’ll be bound, that
if I had seen her alone, she would have recollected all about it pretty
quickly; still it’s useless her trying to get out of it; for there’s the
bill, and if she’ll look at it, she’ll see what she had, and that there
was five shillings paid, and a matter of two and threepence left owing,
and that’s what I want; and if I don’t get it, I shall take the parasol
back--that’s all.” And the man handed Mrs. Yapp the account, who threw
it back upon the table.

“I don’t want to see your bill, sir,” she cried. “It’s all a shameful
imposition, and you know it is; and what’s more, if you don’t give me up
my parasol this minute, I shall appeal to Mr. Sk--n--st--n to make you.
I never heard of such a thing, in all my life, coming here and taking
away a respectable woman’s character, in the hopes of getting a trumpery
two and threepence. Did you see me at your ‘Chalk Farm,’ as you call it,
sir?”

“No,” replied the man; “but the waiter that served you did, and so did
missus; and she said, you were with Ned Twist,--and he’s very well known
to us, for he brings more business to our house than any other man in
the regiment,--and if it hadn’t been for fear of losing _his_ custom, we
shouldn’t have trusted _you_.”

“Well, my good man,” said my husband, with a roguish grin, “as you’re so
positive, I’d better pay you the money, rather than have any disturbance
about such an unpleasant business.” And Edward having done so, the man
left, when Mrs. Yapp flew out in a most dreadful way, and declared,
that Edward ought to be ashamed of himself for encouraging the man in
the way he did, and going on as if he really believed what the villain
had said. But Edward just put it to her, as a woman of the world, to say
whether he could have done otherwise, when the facts of the case were so
very strong against her; in all of which I of course agreed. And I
declare it _was_ such capital fun to see how she went on, when Edward
took up the bill, and began reading it aloud as follows:--

                                                   s.   d.
4 Glasses of Rum and Water                         2    0
3 Screws and a Pipe                                0    3
2 Teas, with Shrimps                               2    6
A small Glass of White Wine Negus, and Biscuits    1    0
1 Bottle of Lemonade                               0    3
Ditto Soda with Brandy                             0    9
3 Cheroots                                         0    6
                                                  --------
                                                   7    3
                                By Cash            5    0
                                                  --------
                                By Parasol         2    3
                                                  --------

Then Edward kept remarking upon the different items, saying that it was
very easy to see what was for Mr. Ned Twist, and what was for the
lady--whoever it might be that accompanied him. And really and truly, if
it was his dear mother-in-law, and she had been foolish enough to go
falling in love with any of those good-looking dogs at the barracks, he
didn’t see that there was any necessity for concealing her passion; for
if the man were respectable, why, he should be very happy to see him,
and question him as to whether his intentions were honourable towards
her. It would have done any one’s heart as much good as it did mine to
see how angry this made the poor bilious old lady, who, all the time
that Edward was teasing her, was biting her lips, and shaking her leg up
and down with downright passion, while she pretended to be very busy
reading a book--(I never saw such reading)--until at last her nasty bile
got the better of her, and would not allow her to stand a joke; for,
declaring that she would leave the house the very next day, she bounced
out of the room, slamming the door after her as hard as she could, till
she made all the glasses on the sideboard jingle again, and up she went
sulking to her room, where she stopped, and wouldn’t come down to
dinner, nor allow us to send any up to her--as if she thought that would
hurt us--a stupid old toad! All this, I said to myself, comes of having
people in the house who must go getting angry over a mere joke.

I told Edward that, as she had declared she would go on the morrow, and
Susan told me that she really was packing up her things in real earnest,
he might as well go up and tell her that he had only meant what he said
in fun, and get her to come down to tea; or else, perhaps, what with her
passion, and starving herself, she might be laid up before she left our
house with a bilious fever. But he wouldn’t think of doing anything half
so rash, he said, adding, that it would be quite time enough to
apologize as soon as she should be dressed ready to go on the morrow.

Next day, Edward wouldn’t go down to chambers, for fear, as he said,
that I should go playing the fool, and making it up with Mrs. Yapp.
Knowing that she was going by the one o’clock coach, I got a nice little
luncheon ready for her (just a few sandwiches cut from the lean part of
the silver side of a round of beef, between some digestive bread); and
when she came down to wish us good-bye, Edward told her he was sorry
that she had taken in earnest what he only intended in joke--and I
confessed that I knew it was Susan who had taken her parasol all the
while, saying I was sure that if anything similar had occurred to me, I
shouldn’t allow so slight a thing as that to ruffle my temper; and that
I trusted she wouldn’t think of leaving us so soon--though I really was
afraid of pressing her too much, for fear she might think I meant what I
said. So, after a little coaxing, we got her to sit down and take a
mouthful with us, telling her that Susan should run out to get her a
coach, and I would slip on my things and go down with her to the
coach-office, and see her off with a great deal of pleasure.

While we were waiting for Susan to come with the coach, there was a ring
at the door, and, when I opened it, it was a man who said that he had
brought his bill for the tobacco, and which he said he should feel
obliged if I would settle. So I showed him in to Edward, as the only
person in the house that smoked. But no sooner did he get into the room
than he handed the bill to me, and said he believed I should find that
it was all correct, and when I looked at it I declare that it was
nothing more than a string of near upon twenty half-ounces of
“bird’s-eye returns.” So I asked Edward whether he knew anything about
it; but the man said it was for me. Whereupon I asked him what he meant;
and he had the impudence to persist in saying that I myself was the
party who had purchased it for----

“For whom?” I said, with great indignation.

The man put his finger up to his mouth, as much as to say “Mum” before
company.

“Say what you have to say, man,” I replied, “and don’t stand there
making any of your signs and signals to me.”

On this, he came as close as he dared to me, and keeping his eye fixed
on Edward, said, in a low whisper through the corner of his mouth--“You
know--for Ned Twist, the life-guardsman.”

I gave a loud scream, and flying to Edward, cried out--“Oh, Edward,
here’s a man says I owe him a bill for tobacco for that odious Ned
Twist, the life-guardsman!”

Edward went up to him directly, and told him that it must be the servant
that he wanted, and not myself, as I was his wife.

“Lord bless you!” replied the man, “as if I hadn’t seen the lady in my
shop, along with Ned Twist, scores and scores of times, in the very same
black velvet shawl that she’s got on now.”

I forgot what they said to each other after this, but I know they were
just getting to high words--for the impudent wretch would keep insisting
that it was I, and none other, who had purchased the tobacco of him for
Ned Twist; and I was expecting every moment that Edward would be
knocking him down, when, to my great joy, I heard Miss Susan come up in
the hackney-coach to the door, and I ran to it, and brought her into the
room. Then it turned out that all the time during my confinement that
minx, Miss Susan, had been in the habit of going out of an evening, two
or three times a week, dressed in my black velvet shawl, and running up
all kinds of debts for Mr. Ned Twist, all round the neighbourhood.

Of course, this was more than I could bear; so I just told Miss Susan
that she would please to provide herself with a new situation that day
month; and very luckily, her quarter would be just up then, or else I
should certainly have had to have packed her off with a good part of her
wages in advance.

The worst of it all was too, that Mrs. Yapp, although she had been
living under our roof, and feeding off the fat of the land at our table
for near upon a couple of months, must go insulting me before she left
our house, and repeated to me in a most tantalising and unladylike way,
all that I had said to her in the morning, about putting up with what
she was pleased to call a mere joke, and reminding me of what I had very
imprudently told her, that if I found a servant wearing my things, I
should not care so much about it, after all. So as I wasn’t going to put
up with her nasty taunts all the way down to the coach-office, I said I
felt very ill, and wasn’t in a fit state to go such a distance. Edward,
too, it struck me at the time, might have behaved himself with a little
more decency, for he would keep saying all kinds of unpleasant things,
and which I dare say, _he_ thought very clever indeed; but I couldn’t
see the point of them, though _Mrs. Yapp_ must go giggling at them, as
if they were the finest fun alive.

As for that Mr. Ned Twist, all I can say is, that if I could only have
caught him, I should have told him a bit of my mind; and, as it was, I
was as near as near could be, going round to the colonel of the
regiment, and telling him that he ought to be ashamed of himself, to
allow his men to go on in that way. For really there was some little
excuse to be made for that stupid, conceited, highty-flighty, bit of
goods of a Miss Susan of mine, for I’m sure the girl was head over ears
in love with the gawky fellow, while he was only playing the fool with
her. Every moment she could spare, there she was with a pen in her hand,
scribbling a letter off to him, or else with a needle, making some
shirts for the rip; and I declare, if she hadn’t gone to the expense of
having his portrait cut out in black paper, and had paid at least
eighteen pence extra for the sake of having the fellow’s mustachios and
whiskers put in with a little trumpery bronze. Whenever, too, the minx
could lay her hand upon any of my excellent jams or preserves, she would
be sure to go making them up into pies or tarts, or something for that
ogre of hers in a red coat; and once I found stowed away in the
dresser-drawer a raspberry-jam tart, (we had had a roley-poley pudding
for dinner the day before,) with a lot of open-work over it, and a small
heart made out of pastry, and the initials E. T. in the same elegant
material.

A little while after this, I declare there was no possibility of getting
that girl to do a single thing in the house, for it appears that
bothering regiment was about to change its quarters. And there she was,
sighing and crying away in secret, and going mooning about the place
with her eyes as red as two brandy-balls. When I stepped round to Albany
Street, to see Mrs. L--ckl--y, in the evening, she told me it was just
the same with her Maria--as, indeed, she said, it was with the maids all
down the street, on both sides of the way; and when I let fall, by
accident, the name of Ned Twist, she knew it directly, and told me she
verily believed the fellow supped in her kitchen twice a week at least.
Her maid was going clean out of her mind, she said, for his
sake--although she had told her, over and over again, that the fellow
didn’t care two pins about her; for she, Mrs. L--ckl--y, knew for a
positive fact that the good-looking glutton was all the while paying his
addresses to the girls at both the pastrycooks in the street, as well as
to the maid at the fruiterer’s over the way. Really, she said, there
wasn’t a female servant in the whole street that hadn’t been spoiling
her head of hair for the rogues, and she was sure that there would be as
many locks given away on the day of the fellows’ departure as would
stuff a decent-sized mattress; though how that general lover, Mr. Ned
Twist, would ever be able to find enough hair for the whole of his
sweethearts, was a mystery to her. For if he behaved to them all alike,
and gave a lock to each, there was no doubt the amiable villain would be
obliged to throw in his whiskers and mustachios, in order that the
supply might in any way be equal to the demand; while the good-looking
vagabond would be obliged to go about with nearly all his hair cut off,
like a French poodle, or else cropped as short as a knapsack.

When the day came for Susan to go, the poor girl had only a matter of
eight shillings to receive out of the whole of her quarter’s wages. And
Edward asked her how on earth she meant to live until she got a new
situation. Whereupon the wretched dupe burst into tears, and said she
was sure she couldn’t say; she had spent chief part of her earnings in
paying for tobacco and drink for Ned Twist; and had lent him seven
half-crowns; but she wouldn’t mind about that so much, only she had sent
two letters to him at Windsor, and he had never even answered them. And
what was worse than all, she had heard, since he left, that she wasn’t
the only girl who had been fool enough to believe what he said, and to
squander all her wages upon him; for she knew for a fact that in Albany
Street alone, he had borrowed several pounds, in small sums, from
different maids-of-all-work like herself, under the pretence of putting
up the banns.

“But, my poor girl,” said Edward, “what could ever have induced you to
believe the vagabond?”

“I can’t tell, sir,” sobbed Susan; “only he used to come of an evening,
and fill my head with a lot of stuff about honour and glory, and
bleeding for his country; and saying that whenever the trumpet sounded,
he would gladly die upon the battle-plain in defence of the maids of
merry England; and then he used to say that the soldier loved only three
things as dearly as his life--and they were, his country, his honour,
and his sweetheart--and ask me, who was so quick as the gallant Son of
Mars to protect a lovely and defenceless woman from the tyrant’s grasp.
So I couldn’t help thinking that he was one of the noblest men I ever
met, and after all his fine sayings, I never dreamt that he would go
borrowing my wages, and running away without paying me, and leaving me
perhaps to starve while I’m out of place; for what’s to become of me
now, goodness only knows.”

This tale affected us both so much, that we quite pitied the poor girl,
for I saw that it had been all along as I had expected; and upon my
word, the man was so handsome, that there was every allowance to be made
for our simple Susan. As I said before, and say again, Government ought
not to allow these men to have so much idle time on their hands as they
have, or else make it a rule, that if there must be soldiers, at any
rate, that they should be ugly ones; for her Majesty’s ministers ought
to know that the red coats and bright buttons alone are quite sufficient
to turn the heads of all the young girls, without the irresistible
aggravation of a handsome face, and a pair of black mustachios.

Edward, who I must allow, is blessed with a good heart of his own,
(though he has sometimes a strange way of showing it,) gave Susan a
sovereign, and I added to it a pair of my old black silk stockings,
(which cost me, I remember, as much as five and sixpence when they were
new,) and an old morning wrapper that I couldn’t wear any longer, and I
told her that, if at any time before she got into a situation, she chose
to come in and help my new maid, or nurse my little girl, she might
always rely upon having her dinner and tea in the house,--though I know
it’s foolish to be overkind to servants;--still as this was a case of
real charity, I felt that I couldn’t well do less, as I’m sure all my
readers will be ready to allow.

Though, after Susan had left me, I regret to say I found she was in no
way deserving of my sympathy; for when my butcher’s bill came in, I
discovered that she had been in the habit of getting things for that
gormandizing Don Giovanni of hers in the life-guards, and having them
put down to my account; for, as Mrs. L--ckl--y had given me to
understand, that Mr. Ned Twist--drat him!--was particularly partial to
bullock’s heart with veal stuffing, and that he would go through fire
and water any day to get it, I at once saw by the bill who had been
dining with Miss Susan every other day in the kitchen during my
confinement; for there it was, sure enough. Leg of mutton,
four-and-nine; bullock’s heart, one-and-three; fillet of veal,
six-and-two; bullock’s heart, one-and-three; ribs of beef,
five-and-seven; bullock’s heart, one-and-three; belly of pork,
three-and-one; bullock’s heart, one-and-three. And so it went on, right
down to the end of the chapter.




CHAPTER X.

     OF THE DIRTY SLUT OF A GIRL THAT CAME IN TO MIND MY BABY, AND THE
     EXTRAORDINARY CHARACTER WE HAD TO CLEAN EDWARD’S BOOTS AND SHOES.

    “Let us speak of a man as we find him,
      And censure alone what we see;
    And should any one blame, let’s remind him,
      That from faults we are none of us free.”
             “LET US SPEAK OF A MAN AS WE FIND HIM.”

    “She wander’d forlorn, without guardian or guide,
    To the brink of the flood o’er the precipice side.”
            “AH! DID YOU NOT HEAR OF A POOR SILLY MAID.”


After Susan left me, I had one or two maids; but I really can’t say what
on earth had come to all the creatures, for none of them would suit me.
However, as there was nothing particular about their goings on, and the
annoyances they caused me were not of sufficient consequence to interest
my readers, I shall merely say that, as I wasn’t going to have any more
pretty maids in my house so long as those dreadful barracks remained in
the neighbourhood, I took good care to choose the very ugliest that I
could pitch upon. I declare to goodness if the woman wasn’t the very
image of an ourang-outang in petticoats! Goodness gracious! I never saw
such a head on a woman’s shoulders before in all my life. Lord-a’-mercy
upon the woman, if she hadn’t nose enough for six! and it was of that
peculiar shape which mother calls a bottle, and hairs all growing on the
end of it, just like a large ripe red gooseberry. But I’m sorry to say
that I had overshot my mark this time; for, upon my word, the woman was
so shamefully ill-favoured, and so frightfully bad-looking, that after
she came into the house, instead of growing accustomed to her face, as I
expected I should, it only seemed to me to grow more and more ugly every
day; and Edward vowed that he couldn’t bear to look upon her, and
wouldn’t have such a buck-horse, as he called her, in his service; and,
more than that, I declare my little ducks-o’-diamonds of a Kate used to
scream itself nearly into fits directly the woman came near her. So I
was obliged to get rid of her, though I must do the woman the justice
to say that she answered my purpose very well, and did capitally for
what I had engaged her--viz., to scare all the life-guardsmen away from
my larder, which she did so effectually, that from the day after she
entered my service, till the time she left, I never saw but one near the
place, and he was a red-headed Irishman, and, I suppose, thought that,
as the woman was so ugly, she must have a good bit of money in the
savings bank; but even _he_ only came once.

The next maid I had was too grand by half to please me, and ought to
have been a duchess instead of a servant; as she told me, plump and
plain, “that she couldn’t a’bear the taste of ’ashes, and warn’t a-going
to have none of the scraps warmed up twice, and shoved off upon her.”
So, of course, I soon let the stuck-up thing know that she wouldn’t suit
me, and that I only hoped that the day might come when she would be glad
to jump out of her skin to get a dishful of sweet and wholesome mutton,
instead of standing there turning up her nose at it, as if she were a
lady of fashion.

The servant that I had after my fine lady was really a good one; but she
objected to clean boots and knives, declaring that she had lived as
maid-of-all-work in the first of families--(I never knew such first of
families--I had her character from a tobacconist),--where every morning
a man used to come in and do them. Indeed, she positively refused to
touch either; so, as I wasn’t going to give into her--even if she had
been the treasure that my mother promised to find me when I first got
married--I determined to let her see who was mistress, and paying her a
month in advance, I told her to go back and show her airs in her first
of families, for she shouldn’t in mine.

Really, what with all this worry and bother, and what with my nursing at
the time, I declare it was pulling me down so low, that my poor bones
were all starting through my poor skin, and positively I hadn’t a bit of
fat left upon my cheeks. If I drank one pint of porter throughout the
day, I must have drunk near upon a dozen; and although the beer in the
neighbourhood certainly was very good, still it seemed to be all thrown
away upon me; and dear Edward very truly observed, that such a great big
child as my Kitty was too much for me, and that either I must make up my
mind to wean the poor little dear, (which I couldn’t bear the thoughts
of,) or I must take more substantial food, and keep always having
something strengthening, and a glass of port wine every two hours
throughout the day; for he said, he didn’t wish me to go drinking so
much porter; and that, as it was, there was nothing but one series of
cries now at our door of “pots” and “beer,” from the first thing in the
morning to the last thing at night. Really, he felt quite ashamed to
look at our area rails when he got up, for there wasn’t a spike that
hadn’t got a pewter-pot hanging to it, so that any one to see the sight
would imagine that porter after all was the real blessing to mothers,
and that Barclay and Perkins ought to be looked upon as the gigantic
wet-nurses to the infants of the metropolis, while Truman and Hanbury
might, at the same time, be regarded in the light of the extensive
purveyors of milk to the blessed babes of London.

I told him, for goodness’ sake, to hold his tongue, and talk about
something that he understood, and that I was sure I didn’t take half as
much stout as many ladies that I knew, for that ever since the little
pet had been born, I had accustomed it to the bottle.

“Then you ought to be ashamed of yourself,” he replied; “teaching a
little innocent creature like that to fly for consolation to the bottle
already. For my part,” he continued, “I shouldn’t at all wonder if she
could, even now, at her tender age, manage her six bottles without being
under the cradle.”

“Well, I’m sure!” I exclaimed. “I think you might find something better
to joke upon, Mr. Sk--n--st--n, and not go turning your own flesh and
blood into ridicule.”

“You know, my dear,” he continued, sipping his wine in the coolest way
possible, “I’ve told you at least a hundred times that it’s one of the
prettiest and most innocent little lambs I ever saw: so, come, my love,
let’s drink the darling’s health; and I’ll give you a toast--‘May we
ne’er want a baby, nor a bottle to give it!’”

I let him go on, for I saw that he was in a nasty, tantalizing humour,
and that nothing would please him better than to get my blood up; but I
wasn’t going to let him. Accordingly, I rang the bell for tea, and asked
him, as I was nursing the child, and he seemed to want something to do,
just to make it.

I declare I never knew such poor, helpless, ignorant things as the men
are!--for, positively and truly, Edward was obliged to ask me to tell
him how many spoonfuls he was to put in. And he calls himself a lord of
the creation, too! Pretty lord of the creation, indeed, not even to know
how to make so much as a simple cup of tea! So I had my laugh at him,
and asked him, in my sly, quiet way, how he would ever be able to manage
without us. Then I told him, of course, that he was to put in one
spoonful for each of us, and one for the pot.

“One for the pot!” he exclaimed; “what do you mean by that? How can the
pot want a spoonful? I shan’t do anything of the kind.”

I really thought I should have died of laughter at seeing any one so
stupid, and said--“Lord! how foolish you are, Edward! Why, of course
it’s only an extra spoonful, to make it better for ourselves; only it’s
always customary, when you’re making tea, to say that it is for the
pot.”

“Ah!” he returned--“I see! It’s the old story over again: doing
something for ourselves, and making it out as if for another. And I’m
very much afraid that, in these days of excessive philanthropy, more
than one-half of what is termed charity is, after all, nothing more than
‘one for the pot.’”

I knew, if I answered him, he would go on all night, so I held my
tongue; and I declare if he didn’t go putting almost every virtue down
as “one for the pot,” and had the impudence to say that the shilling I
put into the plate after the charity sermon, the Sunday before last, was
not done for the sake of the orphans, but out of fear of not doing as
other people did, and consequently was really and truly “one for the
pot;” and that the beer which I drank, and which I said I took solely on
dear little Kitty’s account, might also be put down as “one for the
pot.”

After a world of bother, I at length obtained a servant. To be sure she
was as stupid as she could well be; but when I came to think of it, what
on earth could that matter to me? For, as I said to myself, we don’t
want geniuses to wash up our dishes, or women of mind, indeed, to boil
our potatoes. So I didn’t care about the poor thing’s deficiency of
intellect, especially as it was muscles, and not brains, that I wanted,
and she had a very good character from her last place; though really
and truly the poor thing seemed to be half-witted, and I had to take
great care about what I said to her, or she would be sure to go and take
it literally. However, I had had so many knaves in the house before,
that really I thought a fool would be agreeable, if it was only for the
change. But whilst she was with me, the blunders she kept continually
making were such that, whenever she came into my presence, I couldn’t
help saying to myself, I never knew a woman approaching so near an
idiot, in all my life.

However, my lady had got sense enough left to object to cleaning the
knives and the boots and shoes, and to stipulate, when I engaged her,
that I should get somebody else to do them; so I told her, if I found
she suited me, I should not make that an objection, as, indeed, I should
not have done with the other one, had she asked for it with the proper
respect that was due to me as her mistress. So there I was again as deep
in the mire as ever, and obliged to go trotting about among the
tradesmen, asking them if they could recommend me any honest,
well-disposed person, that had got his mornings disengaged, and would
like to turn an honest penny or two by polishing our knives and boots.

Moreover, as I found that my little girl was getting far too heavy for
me, in my weak state, to carry, I, at the same time, told the
tradespeople that I should feel obliged if they would send me round any
respectable little girl that they might hear of, who was competent to
take care of a child.

Next day, the oilman sent a girl round to me. She was a little round fat
body, with what I thought at the time was dark brown hair, (though I
since found out that it was a bright red, only greased for the occasion
into a chestnut;) and she looked so clean and neat, that I was delighted
with her. As the oilman said that he knew her father--who was a highly
respectable journeyman-painter--and that the girl was a well-behaved
child, I made no bones about taking her, but told her she might come,
and I should give her two shillings a-week, and food, which would be a
great help to her parents, who, I dare say, were anxious that a girl of
her age should begin to turn her hand to something for a living.

She went on very well at first, as they all do, indeed, and came with
her hair nicely brushed, and her face and hands and apron beautifully
clean, for two or three mornings; and then, all of a sudden, a change
came o’er the spirit of my dream, as the poet says, and anybody that had
seen her look so tidy before, would never have known her again in the
grubby state she appeared; for she used to come with her hair just the
same as when she got up in the morning, and all frayed out like so much
red worsted, and looking as coarse and fuzzy as cocoa-nut fibre--and
with the hooks and eyes nearly all off her gown behind--and her nasty
rusty black petticoat hanging down below her frock, all caked over with
old mud--and her boots burst out, and laced up three holes at a time,
just to save herself trouble, with the ends of the laces dangling about
her heels, and allowed to drag in the wet, till they really looked for
all the world like a bit of string--whilst her apron, I declare, was as
dirty as a coal-heaver’s stockings at the end of the week.

At last I found out who and what my lady was. For one day, after I had
spoken to her about the disgraceful state of her clothing, and had told
her that she really must get her boots mended if she wished to stop in
my service, lo, and behold! my little monkey appeared the next day in a
pair of old, dirty, worn-out, white satin shoes. And when I asked her
what on earth could possess her to think of ever coming into my house in
such disgraceful things as she had got on her feet, I declare, if she
didn’t tell me that they were the shoes that she wore when she used to
dance, as “_La Petite Saqui_,” on the tight-rope at the Queen’s Theatre,
in Tottenham-court-road, until she grew too stout for the business.

I uttered a faint scream at the idea of my sweet cherub being intrusted
to the care of such a creature, and asked her what in the world could
have induced her to take to such an extraordinary means of getting a
living? But she merely said that her father had a large family, and he
had apprenticed her at a very early age to her uncle, who, together with
her cousin, and a young gentleman of the name of Biler, were the
original Bedouin Brothers, and who, she told me, were declared by the
public press and her father to be the first posture-masters of the day.

I could scarcely restrain my feelings on hearing this, for, of course,
after what I had heard, I imagined that I should go up suddenly into the
nursery some fine morning, and catch “_La Petite Saqui_” doing with my
little daughter the same as I had seen Mr. Risley do with his little
boy--viz., lying down on her back, tossing up the little pet with the
soles of her feet, and catching it again on the palms of her hand.
However, I restrained my feelings, and determined to go round that very
afternoon to the oilman, and give it him well for sending such a
creature to me, with the character he did, and try if I could hear of
any other girl in the neighbourhood.

Accordingly, as soon as my little angel of a Kate was fast asleep, I put
on my bonnet, and stepped out. To make sure that neither of the girls
could be up to any of their tricks in my absence, I took the key of the
street-door, and locked them both in.

I couldn’t have been gone above half an hour, and when I got home again,
I opened the door with as little noise as I could, in the hopes of
seeing what the minxes had been doing in my absence. I had scarcely got
half way down the passage, before--goodness gracious me!--if I didn’t
see “_La Petite Saqui_,” as the young monkey called itself, out in the
garden, with my longest clothes-pole in her hand, figuring on a
tight-rope, which she had made by tying my clothes line from the
railings to the garden-seat.

Yes, there she was, now springing up in the air, and now coming down,
and sitting on the rope for a minute, and then bounding up again, just
like an Indian-rubber ball, and then coming down again, and balancing
herself on one leg, whilst she held the other out for a few seconds; and
then running along the line towards the house as quick as she could put
one foot over the other, and stopping suddenly, with a graceful curtsy,
in the first position, just as I made my appearance at the back door.
And when I went out into the garden, bless us and save us! if the place
wasn’t just like a fair, with all the servants round about stretching
their necks out of the windows or poking their noses over the garden
walls, and that fool of a maid-of-all-work of an Emma of mine, standing
by looking on, with a ball of whiting in her hand, and her mouth wide
open with wonder.

They no sooner saw me, than down jumped that fat lump of goods, “_La
Petite Saqui_,” and off she scampered, and I after her, all round the
garden, with my parasol, trying to give it her well, amidst roars of
laughter from all the servants looking on.

As for my tight-rope dancer, I wasn’t long in getting her out of the
house, for directly I caught her, I took her by the scruff of the neck,
and, bundling her into the street, threw her bonnet out after her.

Then I went down-stairs, and told that stupid thing of an Emma, that if
ever I caught her idling her time away, instead of minding her
work--which, I was sure, was quite enough for her to do, and if it
wasn’t, I could easily find her some more--I’d serve her just in the
same way, and not give her a character into the bargain. For I felt that
if a stop were not put to such goings-on, at their very commencement,
that really there would be no saying to what lengths such a simpleton as
Emma might not go.

All the stupid thing kept saying was, that I had promised her she was
not to clean the boots and shoes, and knives and forks, and that she had
had to do them ever since she had been with me--as if that had got
anything to do with it. But my experience has taught me, that servants,
directly one begins to find fault with anything they’ve been doing, have
a clever knack of bringing up against one any little indulgence that one
may have foolishly promised them, and very naturally forgotten to carry
out.

I told Miss Emma that she needn’t be frightened about soiling her
delicate hands with the blacking brushes, as she wouldn’t have to do it
much longer, for I had engaged a man who was to come in on the day after
to-morrow, and would take the boots off her hands.

The publican sent me a very nice, sharp, active man, of the name of
Richard Farden, though, he told me, he was better known as Dick Farden.
He said, in the low London dialect, “He should be werry glad on the
place, as it was just the thing he had been a looken out for for these
three weeks gone, as his perfession didn’t require looking arter till it
were gone three, or so.”

“Indeed!” I said, in the hopes that he would go on, for really the idea
of a professional gentleman coming in to clean my boots and shoes did
strike me as being somewhat singular. “And where may your place of
business be?”

“Why, marm,” he replied, twiddling his bushy whiskers, “you see, my
place o’ business is wery like this ere climate of ourn--wariable. Ven
the brometer points to wery vet, then, on course, I knows that it’s
a-going to be fine, and then I hangs out in Regent Street; and ven it
stands at wery dry, then, as I knows it’s goin’ to rain, I hemigrates to
that there public humbrella, the Lowther Harcade.”

As I could make neither head nor tail of what he said, my curiosity was
excited all the more; so I told Edward, when he came home, of what a
strange creature I had picked up to do the boots and shoes, and he
appeared to be as much in the dark as I was; but, as he said, Mr. Dick
Farden’s business, whatever it was, could be no business of his, he
wasn’t going to bother his brains about it, so long as the man did his
duty to his Wellingtons.

However, one evening, Edward informed me that he had found out who Mr.
Dick Farden was; for as he was stopping to look into a print-shop in
Regent Street, on his way home that afternoon, somebody tapped him on
the shoulder, and said in his ear, “Do you want any prime cigars, noble
captain?” and on turning round, who should it be but our out-door valet.
When he recognised Edward, he only laughed and said, “I hope no offence,
master? I merely wanted to do a bit of business in the smuggling line.”

“Oh, dear me!” I cried. “You don’t mean to say that we’ve got a horrid
wretch of a smuggler for a servant, now?”

“Lord bless you!” replied Edward, “don’t go frightening yourself about
that. You may depend upon it the fellow’s too knowing for that.”

However, after what he had said, I wasn’t going to be put off in that
way, and told Edward that I would have the man up the very next morning,
before him; and that if he couldn’t give a good account of himself, why
he should turn him out of the house then and there.

Next morning at breakfast, I declare I couldn’t rest easy until we had
Mr. Dick Farden up in the room, and when Edward reminded him of what had
taken place the day before; the impudent fellow only stood there
grinning and polishing the top of his oil-skin cap with his elbow, and
saying that, of course, a gentleman so well acquainted with London as my
husband, was very well aware of what he was after. That he had got no
contraband articles to dispose of, and wasn’t such a stupid as to go
infringing the laws, and running the chance of paying a hundred pounds
odd for supplying the public with foreign articles, when many of them
couldn’t tell the difference between them and the real, genuine English
goods.

And then the fellow went on and told us a whole pack of things,--how
what he called his prime smuggled Havannahs were no more nor less than
those that were imported from the extensive cabbage plantations of
Fulham, into the snuff and tobacco manufacturies in the Minories, and
his very best pale or brown French cognac, and which he always warranted
to his customers to be the very best that France could produce, was none
other than the real spirit of the potato, commonly known by the name of
British brandy; and the whole cargo of it that he had in his possession
had been run in a splendid lugger of a chay-cart all the way from
Smithfield; although, of course, to give it a genuine foreign flavour,
he told the gentlemen a long cock-and-a-bull-story, as to how, at the
perils of their lives, and at the outlay of upwards of a hundred pounds
spent in bribing the revenue officers, he and his pals had succeeded in
running it safe ashore at Deal, after a three hours’ chase by one of the
finest cutters in the revenue service.

After this, it was no very difficult matter to see that the man was no
more a smuggler than I was, so I asked him how it was that the gentlemen
were stupid enough to buy his things? But he very frankly told me the
whole secret, saying, that as the parties whom he went up to were mostly
young men from the counting-houses, he generally commenced by calling
them, “noble captains,” because they liked to be thought to be in the
army, and having tickled with this, he said the other part of the
business was mere child’s play--for the delicious flavour of a thing
being foreign, together with the fine perfume of the idea that it was
smuggled, was quite sufficient to make the youths of London buy and
swallow anything.

As I saw he was inclined to go on, I wasn’t going to spoil the fun by
interrupting him; so he continued saying that the whole world had a
taste for smuggling, and the ladies in particular; and for his part, if
ever he had any idea of going into the real genuine smuggling
profession, he told me that, from the observations he had made while
following the imitation business, he should decidedly man all his
cutters with women,--that was to say, provided they were “thin ’uns,” as
he elegantly expressed it,--for, of course, if the ladies were stout,
the extension of their figures with any foreign produce would not only
raise the suspicions of the officers, but likewise prevent their getting
easily through the custom-house, while, if the angels were slightly
made, nothing was simpler than to fatten the poor spare things with
lace, or to pad them into perfect Venuses with white kid gloves. Indeed,
he said, the corset-makers, knowing the natural propensity of the female
sex for contraband goods, seemed to have designed one article of
feminine attire simply with a view of defrauding the custom-house; for
he had heard of one old lady who had brought home in her bustle alone
(and which, asking my pardon, he said was the article of feminine
attire that he alluded to) twelve yards of the best French
velvet--upwards of forty-two of Valenciennes lace--a dozen of cambric
pocket-handkerchiefs--and three dozen of white kid gloves--nine pair of
silk stockings--a pair of stays--and a wig. But, to be sure, he added,
she was a “werry thin ’un, Mam,”--insomuch so, indeed, that had Captain
Johnson, or any other eminent smuggler, known of her natural propensity
for infringing the laws, he would have given her any sum she might name
to have entered his service; for positively and truly, she would have
taken any amount of foreign produce, and would have borne cramming as
well as a turkey.

I declare the man was such a chatter-box, that I verily believe he would
have gone on talking for a twelvemonth, if we had only let him. But as I
saw that he was determined to say all he could against my sex, of course
I wasn’t going to sit quietly there and listen to it, while Mr. Edward
kept chuckling at all he said against the women, like a ninny; so I told
Mr. Dick Farden that he had better go down-stairs, and look after the
knives, though really it would, in the end, have been much better for me
if I had turned him out of the house on the spot; for---- But as Mr.
Savill, my bothering printer, tells me that he can’t possibly squeeze
any more of my domestic distresses into this number, why, my gentle
readers must wait till the next month before they learn how Mr. Dick
Farden served me, after all.




CHAPTER XI.

     MORE ABOUT _that_ MR. DICK FARDEN--HOW REALLY AND TRULY THERE WAS
     NO TRUSTING THE FELLOW TO DO A SINGLE THING, FOR POSITIVELY HE
     SPOILT EVERYTHING HE PUT HIS HAND TO, (IF, INDEED TO DO THE MAN
     JUSTICE, I EXCEPT THE BOOTS AND KNIVES)--AND HOW, WHEN AT LAST HE
     SO COMPLETELY RUINED MY LOVE OF A PIANO, THAT ACTUALLY MY
     “BROADWOOD” WAS ONLY FIT FOR FIREWOOD, (IF THAT,) I WISHED TO
     GOODNESS GRACIOUS I HAD BEEN A MAN FOR HIS SAKE--BUT AS IT WAS, I
     MERELY TOLD HIM THAT SUCH GOINGS ON WOULD NOT SUIT _me_, AND THAT
     HE HAD BETTER GO AND PLAY HIS PRANKS ELSEWHERE, FOR I WASN’T GOING
     TO PUT UP WITH THEM ANY LONGER, I COULD TELL HIM.

    “He seemed confounded--vexed--he stared--
      Then vow’d he’d ne’er deceive me;
    Says I, ‘Your presence can be spared,
      Sir, if you please, do leave me.’”
           *       *       *       *       *
           *       *       *       *       *
    “Now pray,” says I, “don’t teaze, young man,
      You don’t exactly suit me.”
              “YOU DON’T EXACTLY SUIT ME.”
                 _G. Herbert Rodwell._


The courteous reader will perhaps recollect that Mr. Savill, my
bothering printer (as I couldn’t help calling him last month), came in,
just at the most interesting part of my narrative about Mr. Dick Farden,
and in a most unrelenting manner cut short the thread of my tale with
the scissors: “of want of space.” Not that I should have minded so much
about it, only the worst of it was, I had warmed so nicely into my
story, and really had grown so hot upon it, just at the very moment when
in walked Mr. Savill, to throw cold water upon me, with his precious “No
more room, ma’m.” And it isn’t easy for a person of poetic mind to have
to warm up her feelings a second time, as if the heart were so much cold
mutton, or beef, or pork; although, for the matter of that, I think my
fair readers will agree with me that pork makes but an indifferent hash,
and that nothing on earth can be nicer than a cold boiled leg with a
nice mixed pickle, especially in summer time, when hot joints are so
disagreeable.

Well, but I think I hear the reader exclaiming, “Goodness gracious, my
dear Mrs. Sk--n--st--n, you are allowing your fertile imagination to run
away with you, and you have so interested us with your sufferings, that
our only happiness lies in listening to your miseries. So “_revenons à
nos moutons_,” and Mr. Dick Farden’s capers.”

Certainly the man had a great deal to answer for. His whole life seemed
to have been one round of juggling, and imposition, and deceit. Not that
I would visit all the blame upon him, for, from what I could learn, his
good-for-nothing father really seemed to have been no better than he
should have been. Indeed, Mr. Dick Farden told me one day, while he was
rubbing down our dining-room table, that “his old governor” (as he
called his paternal parent) had originally been in the hair-dressing,
shaving, and perfuming line, and had at one time the heads of at least a
hundred families in his care, and the chins of half an entire parish
under his hands. Consequently, Mr. Farden, sen. did a very extensive
business in “Macassars,” “Circassian creams,” “Balm of Columbias,”
“Botanic Waters,” and other only safe and speedy means by which baldness
is effectually removed, and the hair renovated, beautified, and
preserved; for whilst he was cutting and curling his customers, he used
invariably to persuade them that their locks were thinning and falling
off dreadfully, and that the hair, being nothing more nor less than a
vegetable, and the head merely the field in which it sprouted, of
course, whenever the crops were cut, it stood to reason that the soil
required manuring with a good top-dressing of bear’s grease, while the
roots of the plants naturally needed being occasionally irrigated with
“botanic water;” adding, that the days were shortly coming when the
barber would be ranked with the farmer, and looked upon as the tiller of
the head, or hairgriculturist.

Accordingly, Mr. Dick Farden, sen., finding that his eloquence as to the
virtues of the artificial manures for the hair was adding considerably
to the incomes of Messrs. Rowland, Ross, Gosnell, and others, it struck
him that it was merely a duty he owed to his family to devise some guano
for the head which should make his own fortune. So he plunged head over
ears into bear’s grease, and kept a manufactory and two roaring Russians
in a cage in his front kitchen, so that the passers-by might see through
the area gratings the brace of hairy monsters walking backwards and
forwards, just where the dresser used to be, and thus have ocular
demonstration that he dealt only in the genuine article; while, at the
end of his garden, he fitted up a very commodious stye for the fattening
of pigs; for, as he said very truly, if bald people were partial to the
fat of the bear merely on account of the strength of the hair that grew
on the back of that animal, surely good, wholesome pig’s fat would be
twice as serviceable to them, seeing that that domestic creature bore
nothing weaker than bristles. Consequently, Mr. Farden, sen., now turned
his thoughts chiefly to the growth of lard and sale of genuine bear’s
grease; and whenever he killed a fat pig, he used to paste up outside
his door a large placard, with “ANOTHER FINE YOUNG BEAR JUST
SLAUGHTERED” printed upon it; whilst in his shop window he suspended the
body of the defunct porker, dexterously served up in a beautiful bear’s
skin that he always kept by him on purpose, and with a card hung with
blue ribbon round his neck, on which was written, “REAL GENUINE BEAR’S
GREASE CUT FROM THE CARCASS, AT ONLY 1_s._ 6_d._ PER POUND.” As Dick
Farden said, “his governor’s” business was very profitable, but very
unpleasant, for the exhibition of the two savage monsters in the
kitchen, and the domestic animal in the window, raised such a demand for
real bear’s grease in the neighbourhood, that the family had nothing but
pork, pork, pork, for dinner all the year round.

To his father’s business our Dick Farden in course of time succeeded,
but being of a wild and roving turn of mind, he paid little or no
attention to the pigs, and as he said, “he went it so fast that he
wasn’t long in going through ‘Farden’s magic grease,’” so that in a very
little time, the sheriff walked into the shop, and seized the two bears
in the kitchen, together with all the wigs, scalps, and moustachios he
had on the premises. But this, he said, he thought he might have got
over, had he not unfortunately distrained upon several ladies’ fronts
which he had been intrusted with to bake, and which he regretted to say,
being taken for the benefit of the creditors, obliged him to fly the
neighbourhood, and seek a living elsewhere. After this sad affair,
things went very crooked with him, and he said that often and often he
had been so put to it, that he would have given anything for a mouthful
of the crackling of the fine young bears that he used once to turn his
nose up at; and he said he must have tried, what he called “no end of
dodges,” to earn an honest living, but all to no good, until one day he
fell in with a gentleman over his pipe at the “White Hart,” who
persuaded him to join him in the British smuggling line; for as the
gentleman, who seemed to be a perfect man of the world and to have a
wonderfully fine knowledge of the female portion of human nature,
expressed it: “You had only to make the ladies believe that you had got
several extraordinary bargains, in the shape of cambrics, gloves, or
lace, which you could let them have at fifty per cent. under prime cost,
and they would buy cart-loads, whether they wanted them or not, and
never trouble their dear heads as to whether they were honestly come
by.” In fact, he knew scores and scores of enterprising linendrapers,
who had made large fortunes by ruining themselves regularly once a
twelvemonth, and selling off the whole of their stock, by order of the
assignees, for the benefit of the creditors in general, and ladies in
particular. For he said it was well known among the gentlemen in the
haberdashery line, that the ladies would never enter a linendraper’s
shop so long as he asked only a fair profit on his wares, whereas, if he
would only make them believe that he was going to the dogs, and that he
was selling off his goods for full half less than they were ever made
for, down they would come in swarms, as fast as their legs, cabs, and
carriages would carry them, and pay whatever prices the spirited
proprietor might please to ask. For the idea of “ANOTHER EXTENSIVE
FAILURE” seemed to have such a charm to the women, that the only way by
which a linendraper could keep himself solvent, was by declaring himself
bankrupt, especially as the darling creatures evidently looked upon it
as a religious duty to attend every “AWFUL SACRIFICE,” for nothing
seemed to them to be so noble as the notion of a man’s immolating
himself at the shrine of Basinghall-street for the love of the fair sex.
Indeed, the angels of women appeared to be the very reverse of those
ungrateful brutes of rats, and instead of leaving a house just as it’s
about to tumble to pieces, they seemed to be more like owls, and love to
haunt “ruins,” or rather, he might say, they were the very image of
Cornwall wreckers, and would, in answer to the very first placard that
was hung out as a signal of distress by the stranded linendraper, rush
down in hundreds to see what remnants they could pick up, or get out of
the wreck, before the whole concern went to pieces.

Mr. Dick Farden then informed me, that upon this advice he had devoted
his labours entirely to the fair sex, and immediately embarked in the
“bargain line.” Knowing that the ladies had a natural aversion to
parting with their money, and preferred exchanging their dear husbands’
left-off wearing apparel, he made a feeble endeavour to convert old
clothes into the current coin of the realm, by carrying about on his arm
a beautiful little love of a tame squirrel, which he offered to the
passers-by, at the low price of a worn out surtout, and a wonderful
piping bullfinch for the exceedingly small charge of a castoff pair of
trousers and a waistcoat. In the winter, however, he carried with him a
basket of Derbyshire Spa chimney ornaments, with a few glasses and jugs
and basins hanging round it. With these, he said, he managed very well,
for he could furnish a sweet pretty mantelpiece very elegantly for a
lady, with a great coat in the middle and an umbrella on one side, and a
mackintosh on the other, while he believed that through his humble
means, several husbands had often washed their faces in their old hats,
and sipped their gin and water out of their worn-out boots.

By these means he raised money enough to purchase a cargo of contraband
goods in the Minories, and succeeded in running them safe into a
public-house in the neighbourhood of Regent-street, the sale of which
goods occupied his afternoon; while, he added, with a stupid grin on his
face, he was proud to say his mornings were devoted to the polishing of
our boots and shoes, and knives; for, thank goodness, he continued,
there was no pride in him, and he was always willing to pick up a
sixpence any day, any how, so that now he could look any of his
creditors in the face, and had no need to be, as he so repeatedly was
after his father’s death, _non est inwentus_, though, for the matter of
that, Mr. Carstairs, who was one of the most beautiful writers of the
day, very truly said--“A _nonest_ man’s the noblest work of Natur.”

I am very much afraid I’ve been wasting a great deal of my own valuable
time and space, and of my courteous reader’s equally valuable patience,
in giving all I could learn of the history of this worthless man; only
my dear Edward (who is as obstinate as a mule) would have it that Dick
Farden was quite a character, although I must say that if he was a
character, he was a very bad one; and I declare the way in which he
served me and my sweet piano, is quite heart-rending to think of, but I
will tell the reader all about this in its proper place. Though I can’t
help adding, that it was quite as much the work of my dear Edward (who,
it pains me to state, always will have his own way, and _of course_
always _must_ be in the right) as it was the work of Mr. Dick Farden,
(who certainly was one of the clumsiest and stupidest men that I ever
came nigh,) for if Mr. Sk--n--st--n would only have allowed me to have
packed the man out of the house when _I_ wanted, of course it never
would have happened, and I should have had my sweet Broadwood in my
possession at this very minute, but the gentle reader knows as well as I
do, that what can’t be, &c., must be, &c.; so I shall say no more about
the piano, until I touch upon it in the due course of things; for I’ve
quite made up my mind to the loss of the thing a long time ago, and the
least said is the soonest mended; still I can’t help adding, that I only
wish to goodness gracious that I had never set eyes upon that awkward
lout of a Mr. Dick Farden, or that that perverse, headstrong (though
good at times) husband of mine would not go interfering about the
servants, but just allow me to deal with them as I please, and manage my
own affairs myself, for I should be glad to know how he would like me to
go meddling with his clerks, indeed. In conclusion, I can only say that
the circumstance affected me so much at the time that I only prayed for
one thing, and that was that the laws would have allowed me to have had
the vagabond transported, as they ought to have done, or at the very
least have compelled the man to have given me a new piano, value
seventy-five guineas, which I was assured was the cost of ours when it
was new, though for myself I can’t speak positively to the fact, for, to
tell the truth, we bought it second-hand.

But, methinks I hear the gentle reader saying, what about the piano? You
are again forgetting yourself, Mrs. Sk--n--st--n, and allowing your
naturally fine, warm feelings to make you wander from your subject.
_C’est vrai--vous avez raison_, courteous reader.

Well, then, the fact is, I never was fond of needle-work at the best of
times, and really and truly, I never could see the fun of passing the
heyday of one’s youth darning stockings, and cobbling up a pack of old
clothes as full of holes as a cinder shovel. So I longed to have an
instrument just to amuse myself with for an hour or two in the day, or
play over an air or two to Edward of an evening. And it wasn’t as if I
hadn’t got any music-books; besides, I really and truly was sick and
tired of doing kettle-holders and working a pack of filthy copper
kettles in Berlin wool with a stupid “Mind it boils” underneath them, or
else working a lot of braces and slippers for Edward, which, in his
nasty vulgar way, he said were too fine by half for use, or else sitting
for hours with your toe cocked up in the air netting purses and spending
a mint of money in steel beads for a pack of people that you didn’t care
twopence about, and who never gave you so much as a trumpery ring or
brooch in return (I hate such meanness). So I wouldn’t let Edward have
any peace until he promised to get me a piano; for, as I very truly
observed, I had been out of practice so long, that I should be very much
surprised if on sitting down to a piano, I didn’t find the cries of the
wounded in the “Battle of Prague” too much for me, and I was sure that I
should break down in the runs in the “Bird Waltz,” even supposing I was
able to manage the shakes. And as for the matter of my voice, I told him
I had serious alarms about losing my G, and if I did I should never
forgive myself, after the money that had been spent on my musical
education at Boulogne-sur-mer alone, and I was sure that if I had to
begin anew with my singing exercises, and was to be put in the scales
again, that I should be found wanting. Besides, I concluded the business
by giving him to understand, that it wasn’t so much for myself that I
wanted the piano, after all, but of course my darling little
toodle-loodle-loo of a Kate, in two or three years at least must have an
instrument to begin practising upon, and if he didn’t get one before
that, I was sure I shouldn’t be able to tell the difference between A
flat and a bull’s foot, and he would have to go to I know not what
expense in masters for her, and then he would be ready to cut his ears
off for not having got me a piano when I begged of him.

I am happy to say that Edward for once was not deaf to reason, but
seeing that I wanted the piano more out of love for little Kate than
from any selfish motive on my part, he very properly consented to look
out for one for me, although my gentleman couldn’t let well alone, but
must go cutting his stupid jokes, saying that he was very much afraid
that the piano was only “one for the pot” over again; but I very quickly
silenced my lord by merely exclaiming, in my most sarcastic way,
“Fiddle.”

However, of course, as usual Mr. Sk--n--st--n, if ever he does consent
to do a good action must go spoiling it by doing the thing by halves;
for instead of going and ordering me one of Broadwood’s very best new
grand uprights, he must needs go poking his nose into all the filthy
dirty salerooms in London, until he fell in with a trumpery second-hand
cottage, and which I had to have French polished all outside, and
thoroughly repaired and done up in, before I could do anything with it,
for I declare when I came to go over it, half of the keys of the cottage
were of no use. Still, thank goodness, it was a Broadwood, although no
one would have thought it, if they had seen it in the state in which it
came home to me; for a Broadwood, I think it had the most disgraceful
legs I ever saw in all my life, and it wasn’t until I had had the whole
thing thoroughly cleaned and put in order, that it was fit to be seen in
any respectable person’s dining-room.

When I had spent nearly a fortune upon it, I must confess that it wasn’t
so bad after all; indeed, no one would have known it again, and I’ve
over and over again seen very many worse in the houses of persons far
better off in the world than ourselves, but whose names, for many
reasons, of course, I’m not going to state. Certainly its tone was
heavenly, and, upon my word, when it came home newly done up, and I ran
over “The Soldier Tired,” I declare it sounded for all the world like
the music of the spheres--such grandeur in the lower notes--such
sweetness in the upper ones--such power when you were impassioned--such
plaintiveness when you were sentimental--that I declare it seemed to go
right through me, and be more than I could bear, for it would move me to
tears; and as I playfully ran up and down the notes, really and truly I
felt myself lifted from my seat and carried, without knowing it, into
another region--Oh! it was such a little duck of a cottage, and such a
darling little pet of a dear Broadwood, the reader can’t tell!

I don’t suppose I could have had the cottage in the house more than a
fortnight before I began to feel that it was a sin to be possessed of
such a beautifully toned instrument, and not give a party just to show
it off--for really the quadrilles upon it sounded quite divinely--and if
they did so under my humble fingers, I said to myself, what would they
sound like under the more skilful execution of those sweet girls and
admirable piano-forte players, the Miss B--yl--s’s, who I knew very well
would be delighted to take it in turns and play the whole evening
through for me. Besides, it wasn’t as if we had been seeing a whole
house full of company every evening; on the contrary, I’m sure we had
been living as retired as owls, and hadn’t given a party for I couldn’t
safely say when, and I do think it is so dreadful to be obliged to sit
moping, locked up in a box all day long, without ever seeing a single
soul beyond the people you’ve got about you. Moreover, as I very
properly observed to myself, it really was not left for us to say
whether we liked to give a party or not; but, upon my word, when I
looked at it again, I felt that it was a moral obligation, and nothing
more nor less than a matter of common honesty on our side to do so; for,
of course, having danced at all our friends’ houses, and eaten all our
friends’ suppers, they naturally expected that we should make them some
return, as indeed, in plain justice, we ought to; besides, how could we
hope that we should ever be asked out to our friends again, if we didn’t
give them supper for supper and dance for dance. I told Edward, too,
that really and truly it would be little or no expense, for we should
only want such a small supper that a five pound note would cover it all,
I was sure; for I merely intended just to have a ham and beef sandwich
or two for the top and bottom, and a chicken or so prettily done up in
blue satin ribbon, as if it had been had from the pastrycooks; and then
for the matter of confectionary, of course we might have a trifle from
Camden Town for a mere nothing, and that with, say one or two custards,
and a jelly, would make quite show enough for what we wanted, I was
certain; besides, I could easily fill out the table with a few almonds,
and raisins, and figs, and candied lemon peel, for, as I very properly
said, there was no necessity for our going to the foolish expense of
grapes, and surely they could do without crackers for once in a way,
and if they couldn’t, why they wouldn’t have them, that was all I knew.
And even then, supposing that upon second thoughts we didn’t fancy the
table looked crowded and showy enough, why I could easily make a bargain
with the pastrycook for the hire of some of their fancy articles, either
a beautiful elephant in pound-cake, or a love of a barley-sugar
bird-cage, and which we must take care and not press our friends to
taste, and then with Edward’s two beautiful plated candelabras with
silver edges, I was sure it would be as handsome an entertainment as any
one could wish for, and if it wasn’t, why all I could say was, that I
wasn’t going to any more expense about the matter,--no! not if the Queen
herself were coming--and there’s an end of it!

Well, it was all so nicely arranged, and I sent out all my invitations
in such good time, that I think I had only eight refusals, and those not
from the _best_ of our acquaintance, so I didn’t break my heart about
them. But, as I very truly said to myself, I may as well have my rooms
full whilst I am about it, so I packed off a card to some of my friends
that I didn’t care very much for, and whom I had consequently made up my
mind not to ask at all, with a note apologising for the shortness of the
notice, and telling them that owing to the letter having been
misdirected, the invitation I had sent them three weeks back had just
been returned to me by the Post-office.

Upon my word, the preparations for the party were almost too much for
me, and I declare to gracious I worked like a common cab-horse, for I
hadn’t even time to sit down and take my meals decently, like a
Christian, and when I went to bed, I can assure my lady-readers, I was
_so_ tired, that I made a vow to myself that even if the whole world
depended upon it, I’d never again be dragged into giving another
party,--no, not for ever so much! But I shouldn’t have minded it a very
great deal after all, if it hadn’t been for Mr. Sk--n--st--n’s shameful
behaviour, and total want of sympathy with my sufferings--for really and
truly, if he hadn’t the bare-faced impudence to tell me that I had only
myself to blame for it; for that “_I_ (_I_, indeed!) was always
bothering his life out about giving a party,” when all the while the
wretch must have known, as well as I did, that it wasn’t for _myself_
that I wanted any of your parties, but merely to oblige him, by keeping
all _his_ friends and clients together. But, of course, these are just
the thanks one gets for slaving one’s life out, as one does, for the
sake of one’s husband. It’s always the way with those selfish things of
men, though. Mr. Edward, however, wont catch his dear (pretty dear!)
Caroline making such a fool of herself again in a hurry--No! not if she
knows it.

As our look out at the back is far from pretty, and to tell the truth
never did please me, (for we had only a view of these S--mm--nds’
trumpery garden, and they are always washing at-home, and hanging the
things out to dry right under our very noses) why, I thought (as I
always had been, from my cradle, of an ingenious turn of mind) that I
might as well ornament our staircase-window just a little bit, and so
shut out that dreadful eyesore which we had at the back of us, and make
the window quite a handsome object; for I must say that of all things in
the world for a staircase, give me a stained glass window. Oh! I do
think it looks so beautiful--so rich and _distingué_, to see bunches of
roses, and pinks, and camelias, painted on ground glass, just for all
the world as if they were growing there. So I set to work, and having a
pair of old worn-out chintz bed-curtains up stairs, I cut out some of
the best flowers that had had the least of their colour washed out of
them, and dabbed some putty over all the panes, until, I declare to
goodness gracious, a glazier himself would have sworn that the glass had
been ground. Then, with some gum I stuck the chintz flowers in the
centre of every one of the panes, and, upon my honour, I can assure the
reader, it was the most perfect bit of deception I ever saw in all my
life; and I’ll warrant, that even the best judges in stained glass would
have had to have passed their fingers over the surface, before they
would have been able to have found it out. As any one came in at our
street-door, it positively gave the house quite a cathedral air. Oh! it
was so beautiful, so chaste, and yet so rich; and when I first saw it
from our hall, I couldn’t for the life of me help exclaiming, with the
top of the bills of the Colosseum--“’Tis not a picture--it is nature.”
Yet, when I think of what happened afterwards, I declare I feel as if I
could sit down and cry my eyes out--but more of this hereafter.

Well, I got all the plate nicely cleaned, and all the carpets taken up,
and all the papers cut for the wax candles, and the chandelier taken
out of its brown holland bag, and had ordered the rout-seats, and the
flowers, and the chickens, and the barley sugar bird-cage (which I
thought would look best after all, for the man hadn’t a single elephant
in his shop that he said would be large enough to place in the middle of
the supper-table, and wanted to put me off with a trumpery hedgehog,
with half its almond quills out, and which I could very easily see, from
the stale look of the thing, had been out to an evening party every
night that week.) The only thing that remained to be done was to get
that lovely cottage of mine up into the drawing-room, and how the
dickens we were ever to manage it, I’m sure I couldn’t tell. When I
asked Mr. Edward about it, as he was decantering his wine at the
side-board, before he went to business, on the morning of the party, and
inquired of him whether he didn’t think Dick Farden could manage it for
me, he merely said, stuff-a’-nonsense, I had better have proper people
to do it, and then I should be sure to have it done rightly; on which I
very justly remarked--“Proper people, indeed! did he know what proper
people would come to? He seemed to be talking as if he had got more
money in his pockets than he knew what to do with; and I should just
like to know what on earth was the use of having Mr. Dick Farden always
about the house, if he couldn’t be trusted to move my cottage just from
one room to another.” This brought him to his senses, for he said, as I
seemed to know so much more about it than he did, I had better do as I
liked--only he must go spoiling it, by adding, in his nasty perverse
way, “that I mustn’t go blame him if any thing happened to it.”--But I
_do_ blame him for it all, and can’t help saying, that it was entirely
his own fault, for what business had he to tell me that I knew more
about it than he did, and that I had better do it as I liked, when he
must have known, as well as I did, that I knew nothing at all about
moving cottages, and that something dreadful was going to happen. Oh!
that dear, dear Broadwood of mine. But I must restrain myself.

Well, no sooner had I seen my husband fairly out of the house, than I
rang the bell for Mr. Dick Farden, and when he came into the parlour, I
asked him if he thought he could manage to move that piano of mine up
into the drawing-room. So, after measuring the width of it, and then
going and looking at our first landing, he said, “he was afeard there
would be no getting the thing up the stairs anyhow, for there was no
room to turn the corner with it;” and, on going up and looking for
myself, sure enough the man was right; though as I told him, what on
earth could make the people go building houses in that stupid way, was
beyond a person of my limited understanding to comprehend. Dick Farden
said that there were only two ways of getting over it, one was to take
out my beautiful painted glass window, (which of course I wasn’t going
to listen to--though I can’t help wishing now, from the very bottom of
my heart, that I had); and the other to “hoist it up” outside the back
of the house, and so get it in at the French window in the drawing-room,
which, he said, he and a “pal” of his, as he called him, could do very
easily for a pot of beer. I asked him whether he was sure that it would
be perfectly safe; but he would have it that there was not the least
danger, so long as the ropes were good. So I showed him the clothes
lines, but my gentleman wanted to persuade me that it would be better to
have them just a trifle thicker--though of course I knew what that all
meant, and wasn’t going to be foolish enough to give him the money to go
buying new ropes with, indeed, and making a pretty penny out of them,
I’d be bound. So I quietly told him that as those very ropes had been
strong enough to bear the weight of “La petite Saqui,” (and she was no
feather,) jumping and frisking about on them, I thought they might
manage to lift my Broadwood up to the drawing-room window--though, of
course, like master like man, he must go saying, as Mr. Edward did, that
I mus’n’t blame him if anything happened on account of the ropes,--and
really, from their all talking so about something happening, I
positively began to fancy that something _was_ going to happen, (and so
it _was_, too, with a vengeance,) and what I should do then goodness
gracious only knows.

Off scampered Mr. Dick Farden for his friend, and I gave him permission
to bring the beer in with him, for of course he couldn’t do a thing
without tasting his beer first. I declare I never knew such a pig for
beer as the man was in all my life; he couldn’t do anything beyond his
everyday work without looking for something to drink; in fact, if I
asked him to do ever such a trifle, he was always saying, in a nasty
begging tone, “You haven’t got such a thing as a pint of beer about you,
have you, ma’am?”

When he came back, he and his friend, whom he called Jim, carried my
cottage out into the garden; and when they had tied the clothes line all
round it, Jim went up stairs to the second-floor window, and threw out a
string for us to tie the end of the rope to. As soon as he had got hold
of it, Mr. Farden tied what he called the “guider” to one of the legs of
my Broadwood, so as to prevent its knocking against the house as it went
up. When they were all ready, Farden called out to Jim, “Now, pull
steady, lad!” and up went my beautiful cottage in the air, as nicely as
ever I saw anything done in all my life. Just as they had got it well
over the area railings, and nearly on a level with our back-parlour
window, that bothering Jim, who was as strong as a bull, began pulling
too hard, and I saw that it was more than Farden could manage to keep
the piano away from the house, and that in another minute I should be
having it going bang in at our back-parlour window, and perhaps lodging
right on the top of the sideboard, where I had put all the jellies and
custards not ten minutes before. So I gave a slight scream, and ran up
to him as fast as my legs could carry me, and seizing hold of the
guider, told him, for goodness gracious sake, to pull the piano over
towards the garden wall. But I declare the words were no sooner out of
my mouth, than away he must tear, pulling away as hard as ever he could,
just for all the world as if my beautiful instrument were made of cast
iron, and he had no sooner got it opposite my beautiful staircase
window, than all of a sudden off flew the leg of my Broadwood to which
the guide rope was attached, and down he tumbled, and I with him; and
ah, lor a mercy! I heard something go bang, smash, crash, and on looking
up, oh dear! there was my lovely cottage gone right through my beautiful
imitation-stained glass window, and dashing backwards and forwards, for
all the world like one of those great big swings at a fair, and knocking
against the window, as Jim kept pulling it up, until there wasn’t
scarcely a bit of the frame or glass left standing. Lord love you, out
came all the neighbours’ servants, in a swarm, just like a pack of bees
at the sound of a gong; and I’d be bound to say they thought it a fine
bit of fun, and a sight worth going a mile any day to see. Farden
hallooed out as loud as he could, “Hold hard there, Jim!” but Jim (the
stupid oaf!) being, as I afterwards learnt, rather hard of hearing, only
kept pulling and pulling as fast as Mr. Farden kept saying, “Hold hard
there, will you, Jim; I tell you the rope’s cut!” And sure enough so it
had been, by the broken glass; and as I looked at it, I could see thread
by thread giving way, until at last, when it was very nearly on a level
with our drawing-room window, snap went the clothes lines--and oh! was
ever poor woman born to be so tormented before! down came my lovely
cottage, like a thunderclap, on to the top of our water-butt, which it
upset, so that as my beautiful Broadwood fell smash upon the stones in
the yard, whop came that great big heavy water-butt right upon it,
crashing it all to shivers, and shooting the whole of its contents, for
all the world like a torrent, into both of our kitchens, and flooding
the whole place at least two pattens deep I declare--

When we went up stairs to look after that deaf scoundrel of a Jim, oh,
lud! if the breaking of the rope hadn’t thrown him back into my darling
little Kitty’s beautiful cradle, and as I said to myself, I am sure it
was a perfect mercy that the poor dear innocent angel hadn’t been
sleeping there at the time, or that heavy lout of a Jim must have killed
her on the spot, and as it was, there were all the wicker work ribs of
the thing broken in, so that it was impossible ever to think of letting
her sleep in it again, for really and truly, it looked more like an old
hamper than a respectable baby’s bassinet.

As for the party, it was next to madness to think another moment about
that, for when you hadn’t a piano, or a window on the staircase left, I
should like to know how it would ever be possible to have a nice
comfortable dance; so after I had given it to Mr. Dick Farden well, and
told him that I should certainly make a point of stopping the piano out
of his wages, and after I had packed Mr. Jim off home to his family with
a flea in his ear, there was I obliged in my state of mind to sit down,
and scribble off a lot of story-telling letters to all the friends I had
invited, saying, that owing to my sweet Kitty’s having been taken
suddenly and dangerously ill, I regretted to say that I was compelled
to postpone the pleasure of seeing them until some future period, and
bundling Mr. Dick Farden into a cab, told him to make as much haste as
ever he could and deliver them, though I do verily believe, that from
the number of knocks and cabs and hackney coaches that came to the door
that dreadful evening, that he put the better part of the fare in his
pocket, and never delivered many of them at all; and there was I,
obliged to come down every five minutes, from ten till twelve in the
evening, and put on a very long face, and tell a pack of taradiddles
about the sufferings of my sweet little angel of a Kitty, and how we
didn’t expect her to live the whole night through, when actually the
little pet was fast asleep in my bed and as well as she had been ever
since she was born; and upon my word, it really made my heart bleed to
have to send the dear creatures home again, when I saw how nicely their
hairs were done, and the expense they had gone to about their dresses,
for they had evidently come out determined upon spending a very pleasant
evening.

Edward, on his return home, I regret to say, forgot himself as a
gentleman and my husband. At one time I thought he had gone clean out of
his wits, for he had the impudence to say, that I seemed to take a
delight in throwing twenty pounds in the dirt, and that it was all my
fault, and none of it Dick Farden’s, and that he would take good care
that if ever I wanted any more music, I might whistle for it; and that
as for any more pianos, that the next one I had, should come out of my
own pocket. As I saw that he wouldn’t be happy until we had had a good
quarrel, I thought it best to go off into hysterics, and laughed and
sobbed in such a dreadful way that I soon brought him to his senses, and
made him begin kissing me, and calling me his dear, foolish, thoughtless
Caroline, and telling me to calm myself for heaven’s sake, or I should
be laying myself up. But then it came to my turn, for I wasn’t going to
let him abuse me like a pickpocket one minute, and make friends with him
the next, and I do think that I never should have opened my lips civilly
to him again, if he hadn’t brought me home a beautiful Gros de Naples
dress, and so showed that he felt he was in the wrong, and was sorry for
what he had done.

It was a hard struggle for a person like me, to bring myself ever to
look upon that Dick Farden with any pleasure again; for I declare the
next morning when he came into the house, I thought I never saw such a
nasty, low, vulgar, mean, sly, disreputable looking face in all my life,
with his ringlets dangling at his temples, and which he seemed to be as
proud of as a life-guardsman is of his moustachios; positively the man
was always twiddling either them or his whiskers, and what on earth a
fellow like him could ever have wanted with a couple of corkscrews at
the side of his forehead is more than I can say; and, la! if they were
not as greasy as though they had been twisted round tallow candles! It
wasn’t only the fellow’s looks, too, that I had to complain of; but,
drat the man! do what I would, I could never prevent him from going
about the kitchen, or standing in the knife-house, whistling his “Jim
Crows” and “Such a getting up stairs,” and a pack of other low,
unmeaning “nigger” songs, that I’m sure I never could see either the fun
or the beauty of. Again, if ever I gave him any of Edward’s clothes to
brush, there he would be, hissing and fizzing away over them like a
bottle of ginger beer in warm weather; and indeed it always was and ever
will be a riddle to me what those boots and ostlers can want making all
that fuss and noise over their work, as if they were slaving as hard as
steam-engines, and obliged to let the steam off, for fear of bursting. I
declare whenever I hear them doing it, I feel as if I could go up behind
them and give them a good shaking, that I do. It’s nothing more than
“great cry and little wool,” and that’s the plain truth of it.

I can assure the reader it would have been much better for me in the
long-run, if I had packed the fellow out of the house immediately after
the accident, (as indeed I was as near doing as two pins.) Only, of
course, in my stupid, kind way, I must go letting my good-nature get the
upper hand of my judgment, and endeavouring to read the gentleman a
strong lesson, just to teach him how to lift a simple piano for the
future, by making him pay a good part of his wages towards buying me a
new one in the place of that which he had so wickedly broken. For I’ve
always made it a rule to make my servants pay for breakages, as it’s all
very fine for a parcel of wiseacres to tell you that we are every one of
us liable to accidents, but my answer to such stuff as that, has always
been, “Don’t tell me, I know a great deal better--and that servants,
one and all, are never happy unless they can be knocking your things
about like ninepins, and the only way to let them understand that they
cost money, is to make them pay for what they ‘_couldn’t help_’
breaking.” (Couldn’t help it, couldn’t they--I never knew such couldn’t
helps!) Besides, who ever heard of ladies banging the teacups and
wineglasses about, as if they were made of cast iron, or pouring boiling
water into your very best decanters as though they were foot-baths. Now
look at me! why I’m sure that without exaggeration, the things I’ve
broken in my time might be put in a nut-shell--but then _I_ knew that
they all cost money, and consequently, never was a “butter-fingers.”

However, to talk of another object; I’d been having a whole string of
nasty little draggle-tail girls in to nurse my little Kitty for me of a
day, but I declare they were all the very counterpart of that “La petite
Saqui,” and as dirty and slovenly as dirty and slovenly could be--with
their nasty, rusty little old shawl just thrown over their necks, and
their cotton gowns with all the colour washed out, excepting where the
tuck had been let down, and there it was bright enough, heaven knows!
Upon my word, too, they were as careless of my poor little dear, as
though it had been a doll made out of wood; and the worst of it was,
they were all of them so sly and deceitful, and always kissing and
fondling the little pet to my face, though directly my back was turned,
they would go knocking it about, and eating up, like a set of greedy
pigs, all the sugar I had given out for the angel’s pap. I declare to
goodness gracious, whenever they took the child out for an airing, it
was a perfect agony to me, for I used to sit upon pins and needles,
expecting every knock that came to the door, would be my little cherub
brought home on a shutter, and I should find out that it had either been
run over, or dropped into the canal, or tossed by a mad bull, or
something equally pleasant to a fond mother’s feelings. So I told Edward
very quietly, that for the sake of a trumpery five-pound note a year, I
wasn’t going to be torn to pieces in the manner I was every hour of my
life; and that I had made up my mind to have a regular nurse, who, at
least, would be some credit to the family, and on whom I could place
some little dependence. Besides, I said with great truth, I was certain
we should find a decent, clean woman would be a positive saving in the
long run, if it was only in the matter of the baby’s washing--which
really seemed to be an expense that there was no end to--for even if I
were to put ten frocks on the little angel every day, I assured him it
would be as grubby as a chimney-sweeper’s child, all the same; and as
for the matter of eating, I would back a good strong growing girl,
that’s out in the open air half her time, to get through twice as much,
if not more, than a full-grown respectable woman, any day.

Accordingly, I set about looking out for a nurse, and as I had several
times, when I had gone out to take a walk and look at the shops in
Regent-street, noticed what seemed to me a very nice servants’
institution in Oxford-street, and although I had never tried anything of
the kind before, still as I knew they professed a great deal, and made
out that they were a great protection to housekeepers against fraud, and
said a whole host of other grand things into the bargain--why, I thought
I might as well just try that means of getting a servant for
once--though I couldn’t help saying to myself at the time, “Fine words
butter no parsnips,” but, for the matter of that, how any other kind of
words could, was always a mystery to me. Besides, it is such an expense
putting advertisement after advertisement in the _Times_, and certainly
the “Institution” would save me a deal of trouble, as well as four or
five rows of postage stamps, in writing, prepaid, to a whole regiment of
A. B.’s, who, after all, might never suit you.

However, before I set about taking any steps towards suiting myself with
a nurse, I made up my mind, that I would have a grass plot laid down in
our garden at the back of our house, where the nurse could let the child
roll about, and no harm could possibly come to it, as I should always
have the little pet under my own eye, instead of being obliged to send
it a quarter of a mile off at least, to that bothering Regent’s Park,
where the soldiers and a parcel of other idle good-looking vagabonds
made it quite as dangerous for the nurse as it was for the child.
Besides, it wasn’t as if that garden of ours at the back of the house
was of any use to us, and goodness knows if it wasn’t useful it wasn’t
ornamental, to say the least of it! I declare it was almost a match for
the plantation in Leicester-square, and mercy me! I never saw such a
place as that is--with its grubby shrubbery, and its trees dingy--for
all the world like so many worn-out birch brooms with an old tea-leaf or
two sticking to the end of them--and that sooty statue on horseback
perched up in the centre, and looking just like a coalheaver of the Dark
Ages astride one of his master’s wagon-horses--for who else it can
possibly be, no one can tell, and the only way to solve the mystery
would be to have a chimney-sweeper in to sweep the gentleman, and then
perhaps somebody might find out.

Upon my word, I do really believe that if there was a pin to choose
between Leicester-square and our back garden, certainly the Square had
the best of it. For the fact of it was, that stupid, though respected,
mother of mine would go making me believe when first we came to our
house, that the air up in our neighbourhood was pure enough to grow
anything, and that with the ground we had at the back of us, we might
very easily get enough vegetables to keep the family all the year round,
adding, then we should be sure to have them so sweet, and fresh, and
good. Sweet, and fresh, and good, indeed!--upon my word! the whole of
our first year’s crop consisted of only about four nasty, smutty,
two-penny-halfpenny cabbages, that must have cost us a matter of ten
shillings a piece if they did a farthing--and they were all eaten away,
and their leaves were as yellow and full of holes as the seat of a
cane-bottomed chair; so that I began to find out, after we had been
gardening away fit to kill ourselves, for I can’t say how long, that
really and truly we were doing nothing more than keeping a small
preserve of slugs, snails, and caterpillars. Do what I would, and slave
as I might, I could _not_ keep the filthy things away. Cupful after
cupful have I taken off the plants of a morning, and yet the next day
there they were again as thick as ever. I declare the better part of my
day used to be occupied all through the summer, with looking after those
plaguy greens, (which, water them as I would, I could not get to be
anything equal in colour to the caterpillars that were always in them,)
till, ’pon my word, my poor neck was as sunburnt as ginger.

As I couldn’t manage any cabbages I thought I’d try and raise a small
crop of peas; but, bless you! then I was nearly driven out of my mind by
those impudent vagabonds of birds, the London sparrows--and catch _them_
letting any peas come up (even if they would) within five miles of the
General Post-office. As for frightening them away, I declare they were
as bold as brass, for if they don’t care for those mischievous monkeys
of boys in the street, was it likely that they were to be intimidated by
a respectable married woman like myself? Positively, I put up an old
bonnet of mine on the end of a stick, which I should have thought would
have scared even a philosopher off the premises--but, bless your heart!
they only came and perched right on the crown of it, and chirped away as
if they were comfortably at home in their nests in Red Lion-square. And
just when my lovely peas were beginning to break ground and poke their
nice little green heads up out of the earth, I have often gone out into
the garden and found a hundred of the young feathered ogres hard at my
beautiful Prussian blues, picking away, and making noise enough for an
infant school; and though I’d go down to them, sh--sh--sh--, sh--ing
away, and shaking my apron as hard as I could, I declare, it wasn’t
until I got within arm’s-length of them, that the brazen-faced little
chits would condescend to take the least notice of me, and then they’d
only just hop up on the top of the wall, where they would stand, with
their heads cocked on one side, and looking out at the corners of their
eyes at me, and chirping away just as if they were saying, “Peas, peas,
peas”--drat ’em!

Though, to be sure, I had this consolation--I wasn’t the only sufferer,
for not one of the neighbours could do a bit better than I did--no, not
even poor Mr. S--mm--ns, and he tried hard enough, goodness gracious
knows! I declare he used to be out in the broiling hot sun all day,
digging away in his shirt sleeves, until his poor bald-head used to look
like the top of a beef-steak pudding--and, what for, I should like to
know? just to raise, in the course of the year, as many radishes, and
cauliflowers, and greens, and rhubard, as he might buy any fine morning
in Covent Garden market for a mere sixpence, or a shilling at most.
Though he tried his hardest to force a cucumber or two, under a broken
ground-glass lamp shade, and spent a little fortune in manure, still the
only one that came, of course, was nipped in the gherkin; and,
notwithstanding some of his beds were covered with old tumblers, just
for all the world like a sideboard, yet I’m sure I never could see the
good of them, for his crop of lettuces wouldn’t have made more than one
good-sized salad after all; while the gooseberry and currant bushes,
that he went to the expense of having put all round his garden, never
bore more than a pie and a small pudding in the best of seasons--and
that not till the middle of November. In fact, I’ve made up my opinion
long ago, that gardening in the suburbs of London is a wicked and wilful
waste of time and money. Really and truly the whole atmosphere of the
place is so dreadfully smokey, that, without joking, one might just as
well try to rear cauliflowers all round the top of a steam-boat funnel,
as to think of getting one’s vegetables out of a metropolitan
hop-skip-and-a-jump kitchen garden. Vegetables for the family, indeed!
“chickweed and groundsel for fine singing birds,” more likely.

So, as I said before, I made up my mind, not to go making a stupid of
myself any longer, playing at market-gardening, and turning myself into
a manufacturing green-grocer and fruiterer, by trying to convert a
trumpery band-box full of mould and gravel into a productive orchard.
Accordingly I determined to root up the whole of those rat-tailed stalks
of cabbages, and have the place nicely turfed in the centre, and a few
pretty rose-bushes, and geranium trees, and other odd things, that at
any rate would be pleasant to one’s eye and nose, put round the sides.
Consequently I had up Mr. Dick Farden, and asked him whether he thought
he could manage _that_ for me without spoiling it; but really the fellow
was so conceited, and fancied himself so clever, that, of course, he was
as confident he could do it for me as he was that he could move my
piano--(and a pretty mess he made of that--as the reader knows!) He
couldn’t, however, merely give a simple answer to a simple question, and
have done with it, but must go on talking his head off, and speaking to
me as familiarly as if I was one of his pot-companions, saying that it
was very easy to lay the ground out, but he was afraid I should find it
quite as hard to raise a nosegay as a salad “in the first city of the
world.” For, in all in his experience, he had noticed that Cockney roses
were not to be forced beyond the size of grog-blossoms, and he would
defy even Mr. Paxton himself to get London tulips any bigger than
thimbles. He said that the beautiful climate of Brompton itself, which
all the house-agents and physicians cried up as the Devonshire district
of London, would only produce hollyhocks in the flower line, and
mustard and cress in the vegetable ditto,--and from all he had seen in
his time, he had come to the conclusion, that trying to get roses and
lilies, this side of Richmond, was really the pursuit of flowers under
difficulties; for it appeared to be as if Providence had originally
designed that the soil of London should bear nothing beyond bricks and
mortar. Though it was not so much the fault of the ground as it was of
the cats--and them he could not, for the life of him, help looking upon
as the young gardener’s worst companion--for as fast you put in the
seed, just as fast would they scratch it up again; and, of course,
nothing would satisfy the creatures but they must go lying in your beds
of a night. Indeed, the Toms of London seemed, like young Love always to
prefer sleeping among the roses. Now, he remembered, he told me, about
the time when Walworth went mad about dahlias, and offered a prize of a
hundred guineas for the finest specimen that could be grown within two
miles of the Elephant and Castle,--he was sure any one might have heard
the amateur gardeners firing at the cats, and the guns going off there
of a night, for all the world like a review in Hyde-park; but all to no
good--for, after all, the prize was carried off by a clever young
gentleman, who had no garden at all, and grew the choicest specimen
there was at the show in an old black tea-pot, out of his two pair back.

However, I wasn’t going to sit there all day hearing him try to persuade
me against what I had set my heart and soul upon, and railing against
everything just like an old East Indian with half a liver, for I could
easily see that all my fine gentleman wanted was, to save himself the
trouble of doing up the garden, and wished, of course, to take our money
without doing a single thing for it; but I wasn’t going to encourage him
standing all day long with his hands in his pockets--not I indeed. So
when he found that I wasn’t quite such a stupid as he seemed to take me
for, and was determined upon having the thing done, willy-nilly, then,
of course, he must needs try his best to advise me to go to the expense
of a lot of box-borders for the place. But I wouldn’t listen to it for a
minute, for, as I very plainly told him, I was sure that oyster-shells
would be quite good enough for us, especially as dear Edward was so fond
of having a dozen or two of Natives before he went to bed of a night,
and I knew that I should get a very pretty border out of his suppers in
less than a fortnight.

However, upon second thoughts, it struck me that, whilst I was about it,
I might just as well have a few really good plants put in, particularly
as Mr. Dick Farden said he knew a florist in the neighbourhood, who
would do the whole thing for a mere nothing for me, and attend to it
afterwards, either by the day, month, or year, on the most reasonable
terms. So, as I couldn’t see any great harm in hearing from Mr. Dick
Farden’s friend himself what he might consider “a mere nothing,” I
arranged in my own mind that the best way would be to let Farden call
upon him, and send him round to me on his way down to deliver the letter
I intended to write to the director (for there’s nothing but directors
now-a-days) of the Servants’ Institution. Accordingly, having scribbled
a note to the institution--saying that, as I was in want of a nurse, I
should feel obliged if they would send one of their young men round to
me _as soon as possible_, from whom I could learn the terms and
advantages of the establishment--I told Mr. Dick Farden to take it to
Oxford-street, and, while he was out, to run round and tell his friend
the florist to call on me _in the evening_, so that I might talk over
with him about the flowers.

When that precious beauty of a Dick Farden came back, he told me he had
brought with him the gentleman I had sent him for, who, he said, had
written down a few of the names of such articles as he thought would
suit me, and which he could recommend, as they had all been in the
_nursery_ a long time. Of course, I imagined the stupid fellow was
alluding to the maid I wanted for my little Kitty, and not to a pack of
bothering flowers, as I afterwards found out, to my great horror; and
there was I going on for upwards of twenty minutes asking all kinds of
odd questions of the stranger, fully believing that he was the person
from the Servants’ Institution, and not that trumpery friend of Mr. Dick
Farden’s, who was in the gardening line.

When the man came in, I said to him, very naturally, “My man-servant
tells me that you have brought with you a few of the names of such as
you think will suit me. They have all been in the nursery a long time, I
believe; and what kind of places have they been accustomed to?”

“Oh, a very nice place,” he replied; “about the same as yours might be,
mum. They had a warmish bed, and have always been accustomed to be out
in the open air.”

“Yes, I should want them to be out in the open air a great deal,” I
answered, though at the time I couldn’t help fancying that it was very
funny that the man should allude in particular to their _warm beds_.
“Now I should like you to recommend me one,” I continued, “that’s
healthy and strong, and likely to remain with me for some time, for it
is so distressing to have to provide yourself with a new one every
year.”

“So it is, mum,” he returned. “I think I know the very one you want,
mum. It’s a remarkable fine colour, mum.”

“That certainly is a recommendation. I like them to look healthy,” I
replied, thinking, of course, that the man was only talking about a
nursery maid, and not of some trumpery rose he had got at home.

“It’s a very dark coloured one, mum; indeed, very nearly a black,” he
answered; “and of a summer’s evening smells wonderful, I can assure you,
mum.”

“Lord a mercy!” I cried out, believing the man wanted to recommend me a
negress. “Oh la! all the blacks do, and I wouldn’t have one of them
about my house for all I’m worth.”

“Then may be, mum,” he continued, “you’d like one a trifle gayer. Now,
there’s a Madame Pompadour we’ve got that I think would just suit you.
That’s a remarkable showy one, to be sure, and likes a good deal of
raking.”

“Oh, I see,” I replied; “a French bit of goods. No, thank you; they are
all of them a great deal too gay by half to please me.”

“Well, mum, if that wont suit you,” he replied, “what would you think of
a nice Chinese? We’ve got a perfect beauty, I can assure you--just the
very thing for you, mum--climb up anywhere--run all along the
area-railings, mum--crawl right over your back-garden door--then up the
house into your drawing-room balcony--almost like a wild one, mum.”

“Like a wild one!” I almost shrieked, horror-struck at the idea of
intrusting my sweet, little, helpless angel of a Kate to the care of a
creature with any such extraordinary propensities. “Too like a wild one
for me. I don’t want any such things about my house.”

“But if you object to their running about so much, mum,” he went on,
“it’s very easy to tie them up and give them a good trimming
occasionally, and then you can keep them under as much as you please.”

“I don’t want one,” I replied, “that will require so much looking after,
but one that you know could be trusted anywhere--especially as there
will be a little baby to be taken care of.”

“A little baby! Oh! then, if that’s the case, mum,” he had the impudence
to say, “I should think you had better have a monthly one while you are
about it.”

“A monthly one!” I exclaimed, thinking he was referring to a second Mrs.
Toosypegs, instead of a rose; “what can you be thinking of? I tell you I
don’t want anything of the kind.”

“Yes, but I’m sure you don’t know how hardy they are, mum,” he added,
quite coolly. “I can give you my word, we’ve got one that’s out now,
mum, that went through all the severe frosts of last winter with nothing
more than a bit of matting as a covering at night-time. Though, for the
matter of that, almost all our monthlies are the same, and don’t seem to
care where they are put, for really and truly I do think that they would
go on just as well, mum, even if their beds were chock full of gravel.”

“I tell you I don’t want anything of the kind,” I said, half offended at
what (thanks to that blundering Mr. Dick Farden,) I thought very like
the man’s impudence.

“I hope no offence, mum,” he replied; “but you see I must run over what
we’ve got. Now, there’s polianthuses. I’m sure you couldn’t have
anything much nicer or quieter than that, mum.”

“Polly who?” I inquired.

“Anthus, mum,” he replied.

“Well, what’s that one like?” I asked.

“Oh! the sort is common enough, mum,” he continued--“not very tall, and
rather delicate, and will generally have five or six flowers in a
cluster at the head--wants a glass, though, if the weather sets in very
cold, mum--and----”

“There, that’s enough,” I interrupted, “I’m sick and tired of those
common kind of things--they wouldn’t have a glass here, I can tell
them.”

“Maybe, then, mum,” he went on, “as it don’t seem as we can suit you
with any of those I’ve mentioned, perhaps you don’t want such a thing as
an old man.”

“Old man!” I cried. “No, what on earth should I ever do with any old man
here, I should like to know?” of course, little dreaming that he was
alluding all the while to the plant of that name.

“Oh! I beg your pardon, mum,” he replied, “but I thought yours was just
the place for a very fine, and remarkably handsome one that we’ve got,
and it struck me that you might have a spare bed that you would like to
fill, especially as it would be little or no extra expense for you.”

“No, no, no!” I answered; “I tell you once for all, I’ve no room for any
old man here; and, besides, if I had, a nice thing it would be to have
him dying directly the cold weather set in.”

“Oh, bless you, mum,” he replied, “a good healthy old man will never
die, and look quite lively all the winter through. However, mum, perhaps
you’d be kind enough to step round some day to our place, and then we
could show you what we’ve got, and you could choose for yourself, mum.”

“Yes,” I answered; “perhaps that would be best, and then I can please
myself.”

When the man had gone, I said to myself: “Well, my fine gentleman, I
shall never trouble you again,” for I declare that of all the servants I
ever heard of, his seemed to be the worst; for, of course, how was I
ever to be able to tell that he was only talking of a set of trumpery
plants that he had got for sale. I’m sure, if he had two grains of
common sense, he ought to have seen that there was some mistake
somewhere; though, for the matter of that, I don’t suppose I should ever
have found it out myself, had it not been for the gentleman from the
Servants’ Institution calling to see me, scarcely half-an-hour
afterwards. And then, bless us and save us, if I didn’t go taking him
for the nurseryman, though I certainly must do myself the justice to say
that I couldn’t help thinking that he looked rather grand for a
gardener, with his white cravat, and black coat buttoned up to his chin,
and black kid gloves, with the fingers all out, and looking as crumpled
and shrivelled as French plums.

No sooner had Mr. Dick Farden told me that the other gentleman that I
had sent him for had come, than I had him into the parlour, and told him
that if he would step with me into the garden, I would arrange with him
what I wanted done to it, and he could let me have his opinion about it.
The man opened his eyes, and looked at me as wise as an owl; as, indeed,
he might; for what on earth could what my garden wanted doing to it, be
to him? When we got there, I declare he must have thought me mad, for I
took him right up to the middle of it, and told him, I had made up my
mind to have a nice grass plot laid down in the centre, so that my dear
little pet might play about on it, without coming to any harm. But he
only stared the more, and said, “Very good;” though, of course, if he
had spoken his real opinion, he would have said “very strange.” Then I
told him I had settled upon having some nice flower-beds all round the
sides, and said I thought it would look very pretty; on which he looked
at me for a short time, with his mouth wide open, as much as to say,
“Surely the woman must be out of her mind;” but he only answered,
“Indeed.” After that, I asked him what plants he would advise me to
have, and whether he thought the soil would be rich enough for dahlias?
But, without looking at the ground, and keeping his eye fixed intently
on me, he answered, “Certainly;” and then clutching the handle of his
umbrella as tight as he could, he retreated several paces off, in a way
that I couldn’t for the life of me understand at the time, but
which--now that I come to think of it--clearly convinces me that the
poor man must have fancied that I had broken loose from Bedlam, and that
he expected every minute I should seize hold of the spade, which was
within arm’s length of me, and race round the garden after him with it.
When I told him that most likely he was not aware of how hard the ground
was, and I stamped on it two or three times, and raised myself up on my
toes, just to show him that I couldn’t make any impression upon it, the
stupid ninny began jumping about and dancing away, and staring at me,
till, I declare, his eyes looked for all the world like two farthings.
Coupling this with the whole of the man’s previous strange behaviour,
upon my word, I thought _he_ had gone stark raving mad, though it’s
quite plain to me _now_ that he thought the same of _me_, and was only
playing those antics just to humour me. I seized the spade and he opened
his umbrella, and there we stood, face to face, thrusting away at one
another as hard as ever we could, and all the time jumping and skipping
about, like two _dancing_ bears. I gave a loud scream, and he, poor man,
retreated as quick as he could do so backwards to the door, where he met
with that scoundrel of a Dick Farden, who had been the cause of it all,
and whom I no sooner saw than I told him, for Heaven’s sake, to seize
that mad friend of his. Then, lawk a daisy! out it all came; and I
learnt, to my great horror, that I had been confounding the two men. Of
course I apologized to the gentleman from the Servants’ Institution as a
lady ought to, telling him that I was extremely sorry that I had
mistaken him for a gardener and a madman; but the man went as red in the
face as a tomata, with passion, declaring that he had never been so
insulted before in all his life, and vowing that he would make me pay
for having dragged him all that way, through a broiling sun, upon a
fool’s errand; and then out of the house he bounced, like a human
cracker.

When the man had left, I declare I was so vexed at having been made such
a stupid of, by that shameful vagabond of a Mr. Dick Farden--for, of
course, if it hadn’t been for him, the mistake would never have
occurred, and I shouldn’t wonder at all if he hadn’t brought it about
intentionally, just so as to have a good laugh at me, out of sheer spite
at my stopping his wages--I was so vexed with the fellow, I repeat, that
I had him up then and there, and told him that he had better not let me
see his face within my doors again, or, as sure as his name was Mr. Dick
Farden, I would give him in custody. Then it was that I found out what
kind of a person I had been harbouring in my house, for although, up to
that time, he had been so civil-spoken and respectful, that one would
have fancied that butter wouldn’t have melted in his mouth, then, of
course, because it no longer answered his purpose to behave himself, he
turned round and abused me like a pickpocket, until I declare I was so
mad that, if I hadn’t been a perfect lady, I should have dusted his
jacket and combed his hair nicely for him, that I should--a nasty,
good-for-nothing, double-faced, clumsy, cowardly, foul-mouthed monster!
Augh! if I detest one thing more than another, it’s people that can’t
keep a civil tongue in their heads.




CHAPTER XII.

     IN WHICH I JUST LET THE READER KNOW MY OPINION OF THAT HALF-WITTED
     IDIOT OF AN EMMA OF MINE.--MAIDS OF ALL WORK CERTAINLY ARE NO GREAT
     GENIUSES AT THE BEST OF TIMES, BUT I DECLARE I DO THINK THAT GIRL
     HAD NO MORE BRAINS IN HER HEAD THAN WOULD HAVE FILLED AN EGG-CUP,
     FOR I’VE TRIED A GOOD MANY SERVANTS IN MY DAY, BUT REALLY AND TRULY
     SHE WAS THE VERIEST BOOBY THAT EVER WENT OUT TO SERVICE, THOUGH
     PERHAPS I OUGHT TO ADD, IN JUSTICE TO THE GIRL, THAT, FOR A WONDER,
     I HAD LITTLE OR NO FAULT TO FIND WITH HER IN OTHER RESPECTS.

    “I’ve talked and I’ve prattled with some fifty maids,
      And _changed_ them as oft, do you see;
    But of all the bright beauties, I ever knew,
      Miss Emma’s the maid for me.”

     POPULAR SONG, _with a few slight alterations by myself, and which I
     was forced to make, for positively all the Maids spoken of in
     Ballads seem to have been such pinks-of-perfections, and to have
     come from Llangollen, and Athens, and Judah, and a pack of other
     such outlandish places, that it is very difficult to find any that
     will suit me._


I shouldn’t wonder but there are some bilious, discontented people, who
will perhaps say that I have been devoting more time and space to Mr.
Dick Farden than I ought to have done. But it’s the old fable over
again; there was no pleasing everybody, whichever way the man treated
the donkey, so of course it’s not to be expected that everybody will be
pleased with the account of the way in which Mr. Dick Farden treated me.
However, I was determined to do the man justice while I was about him;
and now that I’ve come back to Miss Emma, I intend to do the same to
her. Perhaps this may meet their eyes some day, and then I dare say it
will be a nice blow to them. For, of course, _they_ never thought _they_
were in the wrong, not they, and will be rather surprised to find out
what _I_ thought about it.

But before beginning my account of that wretched half-witted girl, I
should like the reader to understand that it is far from my nature to
blame any menial for want of those intellects which are not in our power
to command. Of course, poor servants can’t be expected to have had the
inestimable blessings of a finished education, like ourselves, and,
therefore, a deficiency of understanding in them should be rather pitied
than blamed. Though with respect to my Emma, her abominable stupidity
was _so_ hard to bear with, that at times, upon my word, it was as much
as ever I could do to keep myself from flying out at her, and giving it
her soundly. Often and often have I been forced to have a hard battle
with myself, to prevent myself from shaking her well, and trying to
knock something like sense into the stupid’s brain. It’s all very well
for a pack of self-conceited men to say “that a good woman has no head.”
I’m sure for the matter of that, my Emma had none at all, and she was
bad enough, heaven knows! But what in my opinion, deprived the pitiable
object of all sympathy was, that she wasn’t wholly uneducated, and had
been taught to read and write, but la! the benefits of reading and
writing were entirely thrown away upon _her_; and I verily believe that
even if her education had extended to the blessings of the use of the
globes, she would have been as little like a rational creature, after
all. It’s all very well to talk about manuring the soil, but what are
you to do, I should like to know, when there’s no soil to manure? As
Edward very truly said, as for furnishing _her_ upper story, you might
have put in the table of weights and measures and a complete bookcase
beside, and even then her head would have been as empty as ever, for it
would all have gone in at one ear and come out at the other; and, as he
very wittily added, the girl’s knowledge-box was lined with less reading
than a hair trunk.

The stupid things the girl would say and do, and the dreadful scrapes
she would get me into, all through her horrible simplicity, were enough
to make the blood of a gold fish boil. Positively, one was always
obliged to be speaking by the card, as Hamlet says in the play, though
what speaking by the card means I really can’t say, for I never knew
anybody but the sapient pig Toby, who was accustomed to do so. If you
wanted anything done, you had to tell it to her in a hundred different
ways, or else she would be sure to make some dreadful blunder or other;
for, as for the flowers of speech, bless you! she paid no more regard to
flowers than a cat does! If a double knock came to the door early in the
day, and I had my hair in papers, or was down in the kitchen, seeing
about dear Edward’s dinner, or was in the bed-room, making up the dirty
linen for the wash, or in the drawing-room, dusting the china, (and
consequently not dressed to receive company) and I told her, “I wouldn’t
see them, and that I was out,” down stairs she’d frisk, and say to
whomever it might be, “Missus says she wont see you, and she’s out.” Now
I put it to every respectable married woman (who of course has, over and
over again, been obliged to tell hundreds of white fibs like this in her
time,) whether it wasn’t enough to ruffle a quaker, to have your best
friends--carriage-folks, may be--insulted and turned away from your door
in such a dreadful way?

Again, I recollect just as the evenings were getting chilly, I thought
Edward would relish a round or two of nice hot toast--not cut too thick,
and well buttered--indeed, I thought I could take a mouthful of it
myself--and accordingly, having told Miss Emma to make some, she must
needs, when she brought it up, go setting it down on the slop basin. So
I said to her, “Bless me, Emma, what is that footman down stairs for, I
should like to know?”

“There’s no footman down stairs, I can assure you, mum,” answered the
stupid thing, staring her eyes half out of her head with wonder.

“I tell you there is,” I exclaimed, “under the dresser. At least, all I
can say is, there _was_ this morning--though you know as well as I do,
that it’s no business to be lying there, all among the pots and
pans--especially when I had a hook put up over the fire-place on purpose
to have the footman hung upon. Why don’t you go and bring the thing up
directly?” I continued, as she stood lost in astonishment. “Perhaps you
will tell me next that it’s walked out of the house!”

“There’s been no footman in the house, mum, ever since I’ve been here,”
she answered, sobbing, and wiping her eyes with her apron. “The only one
I’ve seen, I’m sure, is Mr. Simmons’ John, and he was sowing potatoes in
the garden next door.”

“Bless the child!” I cried out, “was there ever such a stupid!” and
actually I had to take her down stairs and teach her that a footman was
a thing made of brass, with legs that would go inside any fender, and
used in the best of families to stand a hot toast before the fire of a
winter’s evening--and _that_ I supposed was the reason why they gave the
thing such a name.

I declare it really wasn’t prudent to trust that Emma to do a thing, and
even that little lamb of a Kitty of mine was scarcely safe with a
stupid, like her, in the house. For I recollect once, I had been
thinking the simpleton had a great deal of spare time on her hands, and
might just as well do a little needlework, as sit twiddling her finger
and thumb of an evening, so I told her that my little poppet of a Kitty
was growing so fast that all her things were getting too short for her,
and she really wanted a tuck out in her best frock, and would certainly
look all the better for it, so I would thank her to attend to it that
night, and let it be done before she went to bed. In the evening, I was
in the parlour, boiling down some quince pips to make a nice fixature
for my hair, and all the while I could hear that sweet little cherub of
mine down stairs crying; so I said to myself what the dickens can that
idiot be doing with the child in the kitchen at this time of night, when
it ought to have been undressed and in bed a good hour ago? Off I
trotted to see what precious bit of stupidity my lady was at now. When I
reached the kitchen I thought I should have fainted, for there sat that
Emma, with my little angel on her knee, dressed out in its best frock,
and with its dear little innocent face daubed all over with treacle,
just as if it had been tarred. “What on earth have you been doing with
the child, Emma?” I exclaimed.

“I thought as you said it was to have a tuck out in its best frock,
ma’am,” she replied, “it could have nothing nicer than plenty of bread
and treacle.” And then to my horror I learnt from her, that when I told
her I fancied the child would look all the better for having a _tuck
out_ in its best frock, bless and save us, if the stupid oaf didn’t
imagine that I wished it to have a _grand feast_ in its Sunday clothes!
“Oh, you stupid, stupid thing!” I said, “and what business have you to
go giving the darling all that mess, when the doctor has ordered me to
let it have nothing but slops?”

“Nothing but slops, mum!” she exclaimed, with her mouth wide open with
astonishment.

“Yes, you stupid, nothing but slops,” I answered; “don’t you even know
what slops are now?”

“In course I do, mum,--augh!--oh, la!” she replied; and from the way in
which she turned up her nose, and the wry face she made, I could easily
see that she fancied that the dear babe was to be fed with the grouts of
the tea-cups, or whatever else might be in the slop-basin, when the
breakfast things came down.

Positively, nothing was to be done with the woman, I was convinced. She
was naturally so thick-headed, that there was no making the least
impression upon her; and really I do think one might just as well have
tried to drill wisdom into a barber’s block as to have made her
understand even the most every-day things imaginable. If a body, without
thinking of it, used a word or a phrase with two meanings to it, and one
was the right and the other the wrong, of course the bright genius would
go and puzzle her brains till she found out the wrong one. And the worst
of it was, she never would come and ask, or one wouldn’t have minded, so
that I do think, as long as she was in the house, not one day went over
our heads without some dreadful blunder or other being committed by the
ninny. Now, for instance, Mr. Edward had been saying, in his nasty mean
way, as he never had a pudding or a pie for dinner, he supposed ribbon
had got so dear the housekeeping couldn’t afford pastry; so I thought I
would put a stop to his shabby satire, and let him have a nice “dog in a
blanket,” as a treat for dinner one day--especially as he’s very partial
to it; and, certainly, if it’s made with a nice thin crust, and plenty
of good strawberry--or even I don’t mind if it’s raspberry--jam, I do
think it is as nice a dish as can well be put upon table--only the worst
of it is, one’s apt to eat too much of it; and, I don’t know whether my
fair readers find it so with them or not, but to me it’s rather
indigestible, or, I must say, I should let dear Edward have it oftener.

Accordingly, as, of course, I fancied _that_ silly Emma of mine,
blockhead as she is, couldn’t well go making any mistake with so simple
a dish as a “roley-poley pudding,” and I didn’t feel much in the humour
to go messing with flour in that hot kitchen, I had the girl up, and to
guard against mistakes, I asked her whether she knew what a dog in a
blanket was? Of course the wiseacre did; anybody, she fancied, would
know what a dog in a blanket was.

“Well, then,” said I, “do you think you could manage one for me?”

“Oh! yes, certainly, mum,” answered Miss Clever; “I used to have to do
one every night at my last missus’s.”

“Very well, then,” I replied, though I really can’t tell how I could
ever have been so stupid as to have fancied that any woman--however
partial she might be to roley-poleys--could have managed to eat one of
the heavy things every night of her life before going to bed--“here’s
some strawberry jam for you, and, for heaven’s sake, don’t spare it, but
take care and spread it at least an inch thick upon your crust, or else
it’s not worth eating!”

“Oh, thank you, mum!” she returned, as she took it, and trotted out of
the room with what I thought at the time a highly satisfied air, (as
well, indeed, she might.) In about half-an-hour, my lady marched into
the parlour as coolly as possible, and saying she had done the dog in a
blanket as I had desired, asked if she should bring it up stairs to me.

“No,” I replied, quite innocently, “I don’t want to see it; you can put
it on the fire now, and let it boil slowly for about an hour to an hour
and a quarter, for I wouldn’t thank you for it unless it’s well done.”

Open went her mouth again, and out came her eyes, while she stammered:
“Boil it! why you don’t mean to say you’re going to eat it, mum?”

“Eat it! of course I am--for dinner,” I replied. “Why, what on earth
have you been doing with it? You have rolled it up, I suppose.”

“Oh! yes, mum,” she answered, “as nice and snug as ever you seed
anything in all your life.”

“And you haven’t spared the jam--have you, simpleton?” I added.

“Oh! no, mum,” she returned; “I emptied the whole pot.”

“You’re sure you spread it on your crust an inch thick, now, as I told
you?” I inquired; for I began to have my misgivings from the girl’s
manner, that something or other was wrong.

“Certainly, mum,” she replied, “on the crust and on the crumb too; and,
with many thanks to you, mum, I eat as many as four slices.”

“_You_ eat _my_ jam!” I screamed; “oh dear! you shameful wicked----! but
what on earth has become of my beautiful dog in a blanket?”

“He’s all safe, mum,” she answered, alarmed at my manner; “he’s down
stairs--I put him in the baby’s cradle.”

“In my sweet angel’s cradle!” I shrieked, and, saying no more, I rushed
down stairs, when, sure enough, there I found that hairy brute of a
Carlo of ours rolled up in one of the Witneys belonging to my baby’s
bassinet, and, kicking away as if it were half stifled. “Oh, you
good-for-nothing bit of goods!” I exclaimed--“how dare you, Emma, ever
tell me such an abominable falsehood, as that you used to do a dog in a
blanket every night at your last mistress’s!--oh! you wicked story,
you!”

“I’m nothing of the kind, mum, and it’s the plain truth!” she answered,
sobbing, “and you can go and ask Miss Mackay yourself, if I hadn’t to do
her Italian greyhound up in flannel every evening before I went to bed.”

I declare even I--vexed as I was--could hardly give it the girl as _she_
deserved, and _I_ felt inclined to do. But, really, her utter want of
even common comprehension did seem to me so pitiable, that I couldn’t
bring myself to do more than tell her that I should have that pot of jam
out of her next quarter, as sure as she was born--though as, luckily for
her, she hadn’t wasted any flour, I should look over her shameful,
idiotic conduct once more--giving her this warning, that if she didn’t
contrive to cram some more brains into her head for the future, she must
look out for another situation.

I’m certain my fair readers will allow that some little credit was due
to me for the command I had over my temper throughout this trying
occasion--especially when I tell them that do what I would, I never
could keep the fleas out of that Carlo’s beautiful coat, so that no
wonder my little cherub of a Kitty was so restless the night after that
dog had been rolled up in one of her blankets. When I went to dress her
in the morning, I declare if the beautiful white skin of the angel
wasn’t covered all over with large red spots, for all the world like
the sixpenny wooden horse I had bought her for a toy. Nor did the
annoyance stop here, for, being accustomed to take the little thing into
our bed of a morning, to play with her--goodness gracious me! if Edward
and myself were not quite as much tormented with the nasty lively
irritating things, as even little Kitty had been, so that really and
truly we couldn’t for the life of us get what I call a nice comfortable
night’s rest for weeks afterwards.

Even if I had felt inclined to bear with the miserable girl’s wretched
stupidity, still her abominable love of gossiping was quite enough to
make any respectable, quiet, well-disposed lady, like myself, take her
by the ears and bundle her into the streets. Though, of course, her
chattering gossip wasn’t to be wondered at, for we all know that empty
barrels make the greatest noise, and her head was so empty, that I
declare she would make noise enough for fifty women, and talk fourteen
to the dozen any day; for, without exaggeration, her tongue was so long
that it was impossible for her to keep it between her teeth. If the
butcher-boy came with the joint, there she would stand gossiping at the
area-gate, wasting her own time and the boy’s too. When the baker
brought the bread, it was just the same; or even if it was that little
chit from the green-grocer, it made no difference to her. Though what
the dickens an empty-headed thing, like she was, could have to say to
them all, I never could make out. While as for the servants in the
neighbourhood, I declare she was bosom friends with the whole street. If
I didn’t keep my eye upon her every moment of the day, off she’d be, out
in the garden, chattering away over the wall, either with the housemaid
at the Tomlins’s, on the right, or with the cook at the Allen’s, on the
left, or with that impudent monkey of a footman at the Simmons’s, at the
back. And as for a morning, when she was pretending to be cleaning down
that door-step, I do think, if I had to ring once, I had to ring a dozen
times for Edward’s hot water to shave with. Of course, she couldn’t hear
the bell--how could she?--when she was gossiping away with the next
doors, putting a lot of tales about the neighbourhood, all against me,
as I felt convinced she was? For positively the maids on both sides of
us knew just as much about my affairs as I did myself; and I’m sure,
that even if she had lived at the Tomlins’s or the Allen’s, she
couldn’t have known more of their secrets; for often and often she has
stood for better than half an hour telling me a pack of things about
them, that, of course, they wouldn’t have liked anybody to know. I used
to think it was very strange, and couldn’t for the life of me make out
how it was things that I fancied nobody in the world but Edward and
myself were acquainted with, could come round to me in the way they did.
Until one fine morning, a little bird whispered in my ear, that it was
that beauty of an Emma of mine, who, instead of sweeping round the
area-railings, was pulling my character to pieces, and vilifying me to
the first of the neighbours’ maids that she could lay hold of, saying
Mrs. Sk--n--st--n did this, Mrs. Sk--n--st--n did that, or Mrs.
Sk--n--st--n did the other,--(of course, there’s no necessity for me to
go repeating what the good-for-nothing minx actually _did_ say of
me,)--so that, at last it really came to this--if even Edward and I had
a word or two together about any little trifling matter, off the _good_
news went--“There’s been another row at the Sk--n--st--ns’,” right up to
the York and Albany; and “There’s been another row at the
Sk--n--st--ns’,” right down to Cumberland Market.

I only wanted to catch the beauty in the fact; for I don’t like
listening to what other people say, and so determined to wait quietly
until I could overhear her telling her fine stories myself. As I
expected, it wasn’t long before I pounced upon her very nicely, and then
it was, oh dear me, who would have thought it! For the very morning
after that affair of the “dog in a blanket,” I thought my lady was a
long time hearth-stoning the step, and I just put my head very quietly
out of the window, and there sure enough she was, with those two idle
sluts of maids, from both the next doors, all three of them in their
night-caps, with their hair like door-mats, and their gowns all open
behind, and their brooms in their hands, sweeping away, as a
make-believe, just for a minute, and then laying their heads together,
and standing gossiping for at least five--then off again for a bit more
sweeping--and then back again for a bit more scandal. This was just what
I wanted, so rubbing my hands with glee, I popped on my flannel
dressing-gown, and stole down

[Illustration: _The Morning Gossip._]

stairs, as silently as a black-beetle. When I came to the passage, I
slipped behind the door, and heard them going on so nicely, no one can
tell!

“Did you hever hear of sitch wulgarity, Miss Ginger? honly to think of
her calling on a common jam pudden, a dog in a blanket!” said that minx
of an Emma of mine.

“Well, I never heerd tell on the likes of sitch low talk--did you hever,
Miss Twigg?” exclaimed that slut of a maid at the Tomlins’s.

“Not I, my dear; but then to be sure _I’ve_ only lived in the fust of
families,” answered that slip-shod, draggle-tail of a Miss Twigg at the
Allens’. “But, after all, it’s no more than I should have looked for
from sitch a stuck-up thing as she is, for missus says as how her
friends his honly coal-eavers.”

As the reader can well conceive, I felt the tips of my fingers itching
to be among the impudent, story-telling jades, but, thank goodness! I
restrained my feelings--merely saying to myself, “Coal-heavers, indeed!
well, if three barges and one wagon make a coal-heaver, I should like to
know what makes a merchant, and _that’s_ what _my_ friends are, as that
Mrs. Allen very well knows.”

“What do you think?” continued Miss Emma--“why Mrs. Sk--n--st--n
hactually had the himperance to tell me that she’d stop the pot of jam
she guv me, as plain as she could speak, hout of my wages. But I aint a
goin to let her--no, not if I summonses the stingy old cat for it.”

“You a’nt--a’nt you?” I cried, bursting out from my hiding-place, for
upon my word, my blood was up so, that I seized hold of her by the
shoulders, and gave her such a shaking as she wont forget in a hurry,
while her two friends scampered off with their brooms immediately they
caught sight of me. “So you’ll summons _me_, will you?” I continued,
when I couldn’t shake her any longer--“you’ll summons _me_, will you?
and so you may, this day month, if you please--and you may summons me,
if you like, for not giving you a character, into the bargain, for you
wont get one from _me_,--you ungrateful, wicked, stupid, double-faced
idiot, you!”

The courteous reader will, no doubt, be surprised that I didn’t pack the
hussey out of the house then and there, and will, I dare say, be blaming
me for allowing such a creature to remain one moment longer in my
establishment. But I know I have always been too considerate to
servants, and of course that is the reason why they treat me as they do.
Besides, dear Edward was unfortunately from home, (having been called
away to the Guildford Assizes by professional business,) and he does
side with the servants so, that I thought it might prevent his making a
noise, if I gave her the usual month’s warning, instead of bundling her
and her trumpery box into the streets, as she deserved.

But, of course, it was only the old story over again, the more indulgent
I was to her, the more I suffered for it. For I declare it was not more
than two days after this that her abominable stupidity again got me into
such a dreadful scrape, that I can only say that it was extremely lucky
for her that I didn’t find it out till I got in the country, or there’s
no telling what I might have done to her.

Mr. Sk--n--st--n had written me a letter to say that he feared that
business would detain him in Guildford for at least a fortnight longer,
as his cause stood last but three in the list, and the special jury
cases had not yet been disposed of. So as I couldn’t, for the life of
me, see the fun of being boxed up in town all alone, while my dear
husband was enjoying himself in the country, and paying goodness knows
what in hotel bills, when I was sure that one-half of the money would
keep us very comfortably in lodgings in a country town like that
Guildford, so I say I made up my mind, as the fine weather seemed likely
to last, to pack up my box, and run down to him on the morrow,
especially as I knew it would be such an agreeable surprise to him, and
he was entitled by law to a guinea a-day for his expenses, and which I
was convinced would be more than sufficient for the two of us.

Accordingly, immediately after breakfast, the next morning, I told that
Miss Emma to bring down my hair-trunk, out of the back attic, and I set
to work packing it, so that I might be in time to catch the three
o’clock train. As it was only for a week or so, I thought one morning
and one afternoon dress would be quite sufficient. Still, as there was a
chance of my having to see company, (for every one knows how gay a
country town is during the assizes, and this year there was to be a
grand trial for a dreadfully shocking murder, which I was sure would
fill Guildford with all the best people for miles round,) I thought it
better, as I felt convinced that, under the circumstances, I should meet
with several of the first ladies in the neighbourhood, to put up my
beautiful new Barège, which I had just had home from the dressmaker’s,
and only worn the Sunday before at church, where it was generally
admired.

Really, when I came to turn it over in my mind, it was such heavenly
weather that, upon my word, it seemed to me like a sin to go shutting
oneself up in those close first and second class carriages, with a set
of old molly-coddles, that will have all the windows up, when for half
or even a quarter of the money that one is obliged to pay for being
stifled alive, one can have all the advantage of travelling in an open
carriage, and breathing that beautiful, pure, and balmy country air,
which, to a person living in such a smoky place as London, is positively
beyond all price. Not that I should wish any one to suppose that it was
the paltry difference between the fares that influenced my opinion, for
I declare I would sooner any day pay the price of the first class
carriages to be allowed to ride in the third. Besides, it wasn’t as if I
was likely to meet with any one that I was acquainted with--though for
the matter of that, it was little or nothing to me if I did. So (I make
no secret about it, for I don’t care who knows it) I made up my mind to
go in the third class--especially as I should have to pay that minx of a
Miss Emma her board wages for the fortnight, so that what with cab hire,
and those shameful impositions of turnpikes, I was fearful lest the
money that Edward had left with me for the housekeeping might run short,
and I should be driven up in a corner for want of funds. Consequently, I
put on an old dress that I didn’t care about spoiling, for I wasn’t
going to be stupid enough to run the chance of having an expensive gown
entirely ruined by those filthy smuts from the engine, or to go decking
oneself out so as to attract notice where you rather wished to avoid it.

When I had finished packing, I sat down, for the first time that day,
just to try and coax myself to eat a mouthful of the beautiful little
leg of mutton that I had had for dinner the day before, and which had
looked such a picture in the butcher’s shop, that I took quite a fancy
to it, as I was sure that it would eat as nice and tender as lamb, and
so it did. While I was thus occupied, I gave that simpleton of a Miss
Emma a card, on which I had written, in a large round hand, “Mrs.
Sk--n--st--n, passenger, Guildford,” so that there might be no mistake
about my luggage, and told her (as I do like to have my meals in quiet)
to fasten it on my box with a tack or two, and then to run round and
fetch me a cab as quick as she could; for, on looking at the clock, I
found I had no time to spare, and I wanted to cut up the remainder of
the mutton into a sandwich or two, as I didn’t see the good of leaving
it for that good-for-nothing servant of mine, when I was going to put
her upon board wages; and, as I said to myself, who knows but I might be
thankful for something to eat on the journey, and even if I shouldn’t
be, why it would save me the expense of having any cold meat with my
tea.

When the cab came round, and I went to see my trunk safe on the box with
the driver, lo and behold! if that blockhead of an Emma hadn’t been
sewing the card on to the handle with some cotton, instead of nailing it
on to the lid, as I desired her. But of course she would have it that it
was all my fault, saying, that when I told her to fasten it on with a
tack or two, she naturally fancied that I meant with a needle and
thread--instead of a hammer and nails, as any one, with half a grain of
sense in their heads, would have understood me. But there was no time to
have it altered then, so I jumped into the cab, disgusted with the whole
world, and determined to prevent accidents, by not allowing the trunk to
go out of my sight for a moment.

What with quarrelling with that Emma, and searching for coppers to give
those dreadful cheats at the turnpikes, and the cabman going the longest
way round to make me fancy the distance was greater than it was,
positively, when I got to the railway, the bell was ringing. While I was
quarrelling with that shameful impostor of a cabman about the fare, I
turned round, and saw a porter running off with my trunk on his green
velveteen shoulder. I screamed after him, telling him to put it down
that instant, but it was all to no use. So taking the cabman’s number,
and paying what he asked, off I rushed into the office, and whilst I was
getting my ticket, told the gentleman that one of their porters had, in
a most shameful manner, carried off my trunk, and I should certainly
hold the company responsible for any damage or loss that might happen to
it. But of course he would have it that I needn’t alarm myself, and
would find it all right, saying that if there was a card on it marked
“Guildford,” it would be put with the Guildford luggage, and taken out
at the proper station. But there was no time for looking into the
matter, for when I got on the platform, the second bell rang, and I was
no sooner in my place, than off went the train.

I don’t know whether it has ever struck the reader, but it seems to me
that it never rains but when you’re going out upon pleasure. No matter
if it has been fine for a month previously, only just put on your things
for a trip into the country, or down the river, or for a fête at
Vauxhall, or even go out in a new bonnet and leave your umbrella at
home, and of course down it _must_ pour in torrents, just because you
don’t want it; and positively as if the clerk of the weather had got a
spite against you. When my peas were coming up, of course there wasn’t a
drop of rain for six weeks, and now that I had set my heart upon a
beautiful excursion, a few miles out of town, it must begin to spit the
very moment the train left Nine Elms, and come down in perfect cataracts
by the time we got to Wandsworth. Talk about subscriptions for the
damage done to market-gardeners and florists, by a heavy shower, I’m
sure I never see it begin to rain but what my bosom bleeds to think of
the dreadful destruction that must then be going on among the artificial
flowers in the ladies’ bonnets; and, goodness gracious! if mine didn’t
hang down and look as pappy as if they had been boiled. To be sure,
there was a young man next to me who was also going to Guildford, and
who, being a perfect gentleman, was kind enough to offer me a part of
his umbrella, for he couldn’t help seeing that my parasol was of no more
use to me than an extinguisher, and I declare even then--for what is one
umbrella between two, especially when it’s only a small German as his
was--even then I say, the rain kept dripping down my neck and all over
my shoulders, until my black silk Polka was so wet that it looked as
shiny as a policeman’s oil-skin cape, and I was so drenched to the skin,
that upon my word I was quite glad to get out of the bothering train,
and take shelter even in the little poking lonely railway hotel, where
at least I said to myself, I shall be able to change my soaking things,
and get dry and comfortable before going on to Guildford.

When I got into the station, I told a porter to look after my luggage,
adding that it was merely one box, with “Mrs. Sk--n--st--n, passenger,
Guildford,” written on a card, attached to the handle; and presently
back he came, saying that the only box in the office was a hair trunk,
without any name at all on it.

“Is it a brown hair trunk?” I asked, quite alarmed.

“Yes, mum,” he answered, “a brown hair trunk, with brass nails.”

On going and looking at it, I said, “Yes, that’s mine, and the card has
got torn off, just as I expected.”

Directly I got to the hotel, I requested the landlady to let me have a
room with a good fire in it, and a cup of hot tea as soon as ever she
could, as I was wet through, and afraid of catching my death, unless I
had something warm, and put on some nice dry things immediately. Once in
my room, with my bonnet off, I couldn’t help saying to myself, “Drat
those third-class carriages! I declare if I’m not as wet as a bathing
woman!” And so I was, for my hair hung down the sides of my face
positively like skeins of silk. As for my poor, beautiful Leghorn
bonnet, it had no more shape in it than a basket-woman’s in Covent
Garden Market, and whenever I went across the room I declare the wet
came dripping from me for all the world as if I was a walking umbrella.

However, I soon had my box up stairs, and set to work about getting my
things out. But when I put the key in the lock, do what I would I
couldn’t make it turn. Of course, I thought some of the crumbs of the
mutton sandwiches I had in my pocket must have got into it, so I kept
blowing down it, and knocking it on my hand, but all to no good, till at
last, I got into such a passion with it, that I put the end of my
parasol into the handle of the key, and at last forced it round.

Oh dear, oh dear! I thought I should have fainted when I lifted up the
lid. Goodness gracious me! if I hadn’t got some brute of a man’s box,
instead of my own. I flew to the bell and nearly pulled it down. When
the landlady came up, I shrieked out, “They’ve given me the wrong box;
you must send down to the station directly and see if mine is there, for
I know I shall be laid up for months with a cold, if I don’t have it.”

“Mercy me, mum, you don’t say so!” replied _that_ landlady; “and I
shouldn’t wonder if yours has gone on to Southampton, now; however, the
porter will be here when the next train comes in, and then I can ask him
all about it, for really there isn’t a single soul in the house that I
can spare at present.”

“Why, my good woman,” I exclaimed, “I’m drenched to the skin, and what
am I to do in the meantime?”

“You shall have your tea directly, mum, and the next train wont be above
an hour at the most. Would you like a nice hot chop with it, mum?”

“Chop! No!” I screamed, “I don’t want any chops; I want my box.”

“Very well, mum, you shall have it as soon as possible--with a nice
mixed pickle, mum;” and then, hearing one of the bells ring, out she
flew, leaving me to steam away before the fire, just as if I was a
potato.

There I sat, “dratting” the stupidity of that Emma, until positively I
felt the shivers coming on, and was convinced that if I didn’t do
something, I should be having a doctor’s bill as long as my arm to pay,
and be, perhaps, a martyr to the rheumatism for the rest of my days. All
of a sudden, just as I was driven to desperation, it struck me that
perhaps the plaguy box belonged to a married couple, and there might be
a gown or a wrapper in it that one could put on; and as I dare say
whoever had got my trunk wouldn’t be very particular with it, I didn’t
see why I should go sparing theirs. Accordingly I began unpacking it.
The first thing I took out was a great big ugly pilot coat, smelling
away of tobacco smoke enough to knock one down,--then, three or four
coloured shirts, some with blue stripes like a bed-tick, and others with
large red spots, as if they had been made out of a clown’s dress,--then
there was a box of shaving soap--and a bottle of whisker-dye--and a
fishing-rod--and a couple of pairs of trowsers, with patterns big enough
for druggets--and a bothering German flute--a bright blue surtout--a
magic razor-strop--a pot of Yarmouth bloaters--a volume of Blair’s
Sermons--and some socks, oh, la! as full of large round holes as the
front of a peep-show. I really didn’t know what to do. It was impossible
for me to sit trembling away there like a jelly, so I made up my mind
just to slip on the pilot coat, and a pair of the socks, which at least
were dry, while I hung my gown over the chair, before the fire, and then
wait patiently until I could gain some tidings of my lost box. When I
took a peep at myself in the glass, upon my word, if, with that beastly
pilot coat on, I didn’t look more like an old apple-woman in the streets
than a respectable married female. However, I did feel more comfortable,
and it was not the time to think about looks.

Whilst I was seated in front of the fire, with the collar of the coat
turned up so as to keep my neck warm, and longing for a nice cup of warm
tea, who should come in but the maid with the tray, but no sooner did
she catch sight of me, than she took me for a brute of a man, and
saying, “I beg your pardon, sir, I thought it was the lady in the next
room,” she whisked out of the place, although I called out--“Here! here!
that tea is for me!” as loud as ever I could.

A lady in the next room, then! thought I to myself--I’ll go and ask her
to lend me a few things till I can get my own, for I’m sure she can
never have the heart to refuse me. So directly I heard the maid go down
stairs, I went and knocked at her door, and when she said “Come in,” I
positively felt so ashamed of the figure I knew I was, that I declare I
hadn’t the courage to look her in the face; so, with my eyes cast down
on the ground, I said, “I have to apologize--for intruding upon
you--but--I thought that perhaps--you might have a gown or so--that you
did not want--and which would be kind enough to let me--have for a short
time--for”----and I was going on to explain the distressing situation I
was in, when the creature cut me short by hallooing out in a horribly
gruff voice, “A gown or two that I don’t want! hang me if I haven’t got
a whole box full in the next room that are of no use to me, and that
anybody’s welcome to.”

I was about to express my thanks for what appeared to me to be the
height of generosity, especially from one that I had never seen before
in all my life, when, on turning my eyes towards the stranger, I
couldn’t help thinking that whoever it was, she had either got on my
beautiful Barège gown, or else one of the very same pattern, and I was
just about to march round and see whether it had got a cross body, as
mine had, before I accused any one of wearing my things--when, lo and
behold! the person called out, “Where the deuce did you get that
pea-coat from?”

“Where,” I cried, “did _you_ get that gown from, I should like to know,
sir,” for I no sooner saw the creature’s face, than, from the whiskers,
I at once knew that it was the young man who had come down with me in
the train, and who was sitting there with his coat off, and my beautiful
best gown tied by the sleeves in a knot round his neck; and directly he
took my plaid shawl off his head, I saw he had split the dress somehow
or other all down the back.

“Never mind the gown,” he answered, “what business had you to go
meddling with my trunk?”

“_I_ meddle with _your_ trunk!” I exclaimed, “what right had _you_ to go
running away with _mine_ in the shameful way you have?”

However, I was too glad to get back my things, to stand asking questions
of a person, who, if it hadn’t been for his civility in sharing his
umbrella with me, I certainly should have given into custody on the
spot. Though when I looked over my box, I declare if the brute hadn’t so
tossed about and tumbled all my clean things, and so torn and ruined my
beautiful Barège, that as soon as I had sufficiently recovered myself,
and put on some dry things, I packed up my box again and made the best
of my way back to town; for I saw that it was useless to think of
spending a fortnight in Guildford, with nothing but a morning-wrapper to
put on--especially as by so doing there could be no chance of Edward’s
knowing a word about the occurrence, which I felt convinced he would be
certain to say was entirely my fault.

Directly I set foot in my own house again, I had Miss Emma into the
parlour, and showing her the state that my gown was in, all through her
abominable stupidity, I told her that she really was so dangerous a
blockhead to have near one, that although I wouldn’t thrust her into the
wide world without a place to put her head in that night, still she
would be pleased to quit my service first thing in the morning--which I
took very good care she did.

And thus ended my acquaintance with Miss Emma, and I very naturally made
a vow that the next woman I had in my service should have some little
learning in her head, at least. Though positively, it was only jumping
out of the frying-pan into the fire, for when the other creature came in
she was, if possible, harder to put up with than the good-for-nothing
hussey that I had just turned out of the house. Bless us and save us! if
her head wasn’t crammed brim full of trumpery penny novels and
rubbishing romantic melo-dramas. Was there ever such a woman--a great
big, fat thing, with a currant-jelly complexion, and always marching
about the house with a broom in her hand, either fancying herself “ADA
THE BETRAYED,” or “AMY,” in “LOVE AND MADNESS”--or else sitting for
hours, after the parlour dinner was over, all among the dirty plates and
dishes, with her feet on the fender, crying her eyes out, over “THE
MURDER AT THE OLD SMITHY,” or “THE HEADS OF THE HEADLESS,” just, for all
the world, as you see her in the picture,--which I will tell the gentle
reader all about in the next chapter--and a pretty chapter of accidents
it will be--for, of all the plagues of servants I ever had anything to
do with, that woman certainly was the greatest, and she got me into
_one_ scrape, that I’m sure I shall never forget to my dying hour--but
more of this hereafter.




CHAPTER XIII.

     I SHA’N’T SAY ANYTHING AT ALL ABOUT WHAT’S COMING IN THE PRESENT
     CHAPTER. ALL I KNOW IS, THAT IT NEARLY DROVE ME STARK STARING MAD,
     AND OFTEN AND OFTEN I HAVE IN MY AGONY OF MIND BEEN FORCED TO
     EXCLAIM, IN THE WORDS OF THAT SWEET SINGER, MR. BRAHAM, AS  FOLLOWS:--

    “Oh! (goodness gracious me) I can bear my fate no longer,
    E’en hope (’pon my word) is banish’d from my soul!”

     _Recitative to that beautiful ballad of_ “THROUGH THE FORESTS,
     THROUGH THE MEADOWS,” _in “Der Freischutz,” and which, indeed, I
     once had the music of, for that charming girl, Miss Emily B-yl-s,
     was kind enough to copy it out for me, but where it’s gone to now,
     goodness only knows; most likely some of my beauties of servants
     have taken it to light the fire, or put the candles up with, or
     something equally pretty. All I know is, it isn’t to be found in my
     Canterbury, and it can’t have walked out of the house by itself,
     that’s clear._


Before taking up the thread of my story from where I dropped it last
month, I should like the gentle reader to know what a dreadful fidget
Mr. Sk--n--st--n is. Though it is but right to add, that I have
comparatively little or nothing to say against my beloved Edward in
other respects. But even if I had been blessed with an angel for a
husband, and he had unfortunately been a knag, still, I do verily
believe that I should have found my lot just as hard to bear with as I
do at present. For if there is one thing more trying than another to
one’s good temper, or more calculated to rumple the natural smoothness
of one’s amiable disposition, and to put one out of sorts with the whole
world, and everybody in it, it is to have a man always at one, worry
worry, fidget fidget, knag knag, from the first thing when he gets up in
the morning, to the last thing when he goes to bed at night. Really any
unprejudiced person like myself would believe that Mr. Sk--n--st--n was
never happy unless he was trying to see how miserable he could make me;
for literally and truly, without exaggeration, the man’s chief
enjoyment seemed to lie in finding fault with, first this thing, then
that thing, and then the other. I declare it’s my firm opinion to this
very day, that he used to think of nothing else all the way home, but
what he could make a noise about directly he set foot in the house. Only
just let him be able to write his trumpery name in the dust on the hall
chairs, or let the cloth not be laid for dinner ready to receive my
fine, greedy gentleman, or let me be in my morning wrapper, and not
dressed to the very moment that he knocked at the door (of course it was
no matter to _him_ how much I had been slaving all through the hot day,
just to make him comfortable, oh, no, of course it wasn’t!)--or even if
he couldn’t find fault with any of these, only just let the forks be a
little dirty between the prongs, or the soup be cold, or a little
twopenny-halfpenny caterpillar be in the greens, and then, oh dear me,
_there_ were fine nuts indeed for my lord to crack--he never knew such a
house--he didn’t--like a pigstye--of course it _always_ was--be better
treated at a common tavern, he would (then why didn’t he go there, I
should like to know, instead of coming home always grumbling away, like
an old Smellfungus as he is). Then of a morning, too, he had no sooner
swallowed his breakfast, than he must go dancing down stairs, and stand
fiddling for half an hour in the cellar, pretending to be getting his
filthy wine out, though of course I knew what my gentleman was after, as
well as he himself did, for up stairs he’d trot, with a face as long as
my arm, with a whole pack of trumpery complaints, and, as pleased as
Punch with the mare’s-nests that my Mr. Clever thought he had
discovered. Then out they would come, one after another--first, why
weren’t the blacking brushes in their proper place, instead of on the
kitchen dresser?--or else, hadn’t he told me over and over again, that
he wouldn’t have the servants’ candlesticks put into the fire?--or, why
were the cinders all about the passage?--or else, he declared the stones
were as black as his hat, and had never been cleaned for a
twelvemonth,--in fact, the whole place was a perfect disgrace to me, and
positively, he would go on fidgeting and knagging about this, that, and
the other, until I lost all patience with him, and told him as plainly
as I could, “that he had no business at all down in the kitchen, poking
his nose into what didn’t concern him, and that all I wished to goodness
gracious was, that the cook would pin a dishclout to his coat tails, and
then, nothing would give me greater pleasure than to let him go down to
the court at Westminster with it dangling at his heels, if it was only
that the Lord Chief Justice of England might see what a mollycoddle and
poking meddling thing he was”--and the beauty of it was, that I used to
put him in such a passion by telling him that there was a party I knew,
who was not a hundred miles from where I was standing, and who was one
of the greatest fidgets that I ever came near, and saying in my most
tantalising way, “Well, I wouldn’t be a fidget, no, not if anybody was
to make me a present of all the gold in the mines of Peru that very
moment.”

Methinks that ever and anon I hear the courteous reader exclaiming,
“But, my dear Mrs. Sk--n--st--n, this really has nothing at all to do
with the subject of your story.” You are right, courteous reader, no
more it has; but the truth is, I feel slightly indisposed this morning;
in fact, I may say I have not felt myself for this last day or two--I
think it is nothing more than a slight attack of the bile after all, and
my fair readers will, I’m sure, agree with me, that when one is bilious,
there is nothing does one so much good as to be able to speak one’s
mind, without any restraint or the fear of ever being taken to task for
it. So, as there is no earthly chance of Mr. Sk--n--st--n’s ever meeting
with these few candid remarks, why I’m only too glad to have the
opportunity of letting my lady readers know what I really think of my
pretty gentleman. However, I will try and rally myself, and coax my
wandering thoughts back to my subject, though I’m afraid it will be a
difficult task for me to accomplish in my present state of feeling, for
I’ve a number of little white stars floating about before my eyes, and
my right temple is throbbing and aching as if some imp, out of mere
mischief, was thumping away at it with a sledge hammer, and I have a
shooting pain just between my shoulders as though some one had got a
penknife and was digging it into me every other moment. Our medical
adviser says I have gone out and caught that nasty influenza which has
been flying about our neighbourhood of late; but don’t tell me! I know
it’s nothing of the kind, and only my old friend the bile that’s come
back again to worry my very life out, and it’s my firm opinion that our
medical adviser knows nothing at all about it.

Well, as I was saying, that beauty of a husband of mine is such a
fidget, and must always be meddling with what he knows nothing at all
about, that I declare all the time I was nursing he wouldn’t let me
taste even a little pickle. And of course in a family you can’t be
having a hot joint every day of the week, and I wouldn’t give a pin for
my dinner when it’s cold meat, and you can’t touch even so much as a
gherkin, or a walnut, or a simple mouthful of red cabbage, to give it a
relish. When the rhubarb was coming in, too, really it was quite
heart-rending. I declare, he wouldn’t let me eat a spoonful of it,
though I had gone to the expense of two shillings, like a silly, to buy
as beautiful a bundle as I think I ever set eyes on in all my life, and
which positively quite made my mouth water when I saw it at the
greengrocer’s, it looked such a picture. And the worst of it all was, I
had fixed my mind on it so, (for, to tell the truth, it’s a favourite
dish of mine,) that I only eat half a dinner, so as to be able to do
justice to the lovely large tart I had made. But Mr. Edward _must_ know
such a deal about what was good and what was bad for me, that _of
course_ he would have it that I should go making the child ill, even if
I took as much of the fruit as would lie upon a sixpence, only just as a
taste, though I told him that I had bought it principally in the light
of medicine, as I had heard mother say over and over again that it was a
fine thing to sweeten the blood at the change of the year. But, oh dear
me, no! of course my Mr. Wiseacre knew a great deal better than people
who had lived twice as long and seen twice as much of the world as he
had, and wouldn’t let me have even a thimble full, just to see if it had
turned out as well as I had expected (drat him!) saying, “I ought to be
as well aware as he was, that such things were not fit for me while I
was nursing.” Ought I, indeed!--though, if it comes to that, what on
earth can _he_ know about nursing--a molly-coddle! (Augh! I do detest
molly-coddles, and all I can say is, you wont catch me marrying one
again in a hurry.)

So as I had got a nurse, and she was coming in shortly, and as my poor
little dear pet must be weaned some time or other, I thought it would be
better to get that troublesome job over before the new maid entered my
service. For I do think it is a perfect cruelty to break a poor thing’s
rest every night, for a week at least, with the care of a dear little
infant, that of course she doesn’t care a fig about. Besides, I didn’t
like to entrust the arduous duty of weaning to a stranger, and my own
ever dear mother had made me promise that I would let her have the
pleasure of weaning my little chicken. So I thought it would be better,
under the circumstances, to make friends with her again, and just get
her to take charge of my beautiful little ducks-o’-diamonds for a week
or so, especially, too, as Easter Sunday was just coming round; and
since I have always made it a religious duty to have a nice little
quarter of lamb and a delicious gooseberry pudding with the wood in it,
on that day, I felt convinced I should never forgive myself if I wasn’t
able to touch a mouthful of the pudding, through Mr. Edward’s taking a
mean advantage of my nursing, as I well knew he would only be too glad
to do. Besides, to tell the truth, if there’s one thing that I’m more
partial to than another, it is to gooseberries with the wood in them,
for I do think that, with an egg beaten up in them, just to take the
roughness off, you have such an exquisite flavour of the tree in the
fruit, that really I should like any lady reader of mine who may be
unacquainted with that delicacy of the season, just to try it, (though I
can hardly bring myself to believe, that out of the thirty-nine thousand
readers I have every month, there can be one among the number who has
been wicked heathen enough to have allowed every Easter Sunday of her
life to have gone by, without having so much as once partaken of a
gooseberry pudding with the wood in it--if so, I blush for her.) Oh!
with plenty of sugar, it is delicious; indeed, I may say, heavenly.

While upon this topic, I think it is but right to add, that I have
always, ever since I was a child, made it a solemn duty to observe, with
the greatest strictness, all the feasts which have been ordained by our
venerable mother church. Thank goodness, I can lay my head on my pillow
at night and safely say, that I have never allowed a single year to
pass over my head without partaking with great devotion and extreme
relish of the plum-pudding and mince-pie of Christmas, the pancake of
Shrove Tuesday (by the bye, with a spoonful of gin, it eats just like
ratafia, I can assure you) and the divine gooseberry tart of Easter
Sunday; though, with all my enthusiasm, I regret to state, I can’t say
as much for that filthy salt cod of Ash Wednesday. I cannot let the
subject drop here, without adding, that it has cut me to the heart to
see a nasty barbarous innovating spirit growing up among us of late,
which threatens to destroy all the sacred institutions of our country,
and to roll the plum-pudding of our forefathers in the dust. Nor can I,
before quitting the theme, help giving this solemn warning to the wives
and mothers of England, “Hold fast to your pancakes, or they will be
snatched from you before many Shrove Tuesdays are over your heads, as
sure as my name is Sk--n--st--n.” If the ruthless despoilers must pull
down something, why let them tear our salt fish from us; but in the name
of all that is great and good, let them spare us the agony of seeing the
gooseberry pudding of our best affections trampled under foot.

However, I must leave my gooseberry pudding for awhile, and return to
that sentimental novel-reading creature of a Betsy, of whom I spoke in
my last chapter. There was a nice bit of goods for a well regulated
establishment like mine! How people can ever bring their minds to give
characters to such idle, good-for-nothing affected toads, is a mystery
to me, and from the character I had with her, I’m sure I expected that
she would have proved nothing less than the treasure I had been on the
constant look out for ever since I was married. Lord-a’-mercy upon the
woman, I don’t suppose there ever was (or ever will be again, let us
hope) another creature like her. I declare, unless you kept her right
under your nose all day long, there was no getting her to do a single
thing properly; for positively she was so wrapt up in her romances, that
directly my eye was off her, she was sure to pull the “HEADS OF THE
HEADLESS” out of her pocket, or else spread out “MARIANNE THE CHILD OF
CHARITY,” right before her on the kitchen dresser, and no matter what
she was at, there she would go rubbing and reading and snivelling away,
paying a great deal more attention to her trumpery pennyworth of
“soul-stirring interest,” than to my work. I’m sure that to have made
her perfectly happy, all she wanted was to have been allowed to scrub
down the stairs, with a reading-desk set up before her, or else to stick
some highly exciting nautico-domestic rubbish at the top of her broom,
and read while she swept--in the same way as the military bands stick
their music on their hautboys and things, so that they may play while
they march.

For, upon my word, often and often have I, after ringing two or three
times for the sentimental cat, gone down in the kitchen, and found her
with a snuff to the candle as big as a toad-stool, and all of a tremble
like an Italian greyhound, over the “CASTLE FIEND, or _the Fate of the
Loved and the Lost, and the Ten Mysteries_,” or some other
powerfully-written nonsense; and if in my vexation I snatched it from
her hand, I was sure to find that, instead of minding the needle-work I
had given her, she had been wasting the whole of her evening with such
stuff as this:

     “Hush! some one comes,” said the Baron Mavaracordo to Canoni--a man
     of strange aspect and apparel--as they were seated in a richly
     decorated room in Strademoor Castle.

     “My lord,” said a man-at-arms, “there come three travellers through
     the storm, and demand admittance to the castle.”

     “Do they proclaim their calling and degree?”

     “They do not; but in the name of hospitality as wanderers, they
     demand admittance. One is a female, but they are well mounted; and
     one looks warlike, although clad not in the garments of a knight.”
     (Clad not! Pretty talk that for a common soldier--of the dark ages,
     too.)

     “Admit them; and, with all imaginable speed, show them to the
     painted closet. I will see them there.”

     When the man-at-arms had left to perform his errand, the baron
     turned to his companion, and said,--

     “It is they.”[B]

It is they!--_is it_ they indeed? There’s soul-stirring interest for
you, all about your grand Baron Mavaracordo’s, who can’t speak even good
grammar, and Italian gentlemen of astrological skill, who declare, that
“if by the occult sciences that are familiar to them they can only find
the knave who threw this here, he should suffer such pangs he dreams
not of.”[C]

And, bless your heart, she hadn’t been in the house a week or so before,
I declare to goodness, I don’t think there was a saucepan in the place
that hadn’t its bottom burnt out; for there she would let, no matter
what it was, boil and boil away till there wasn’t a drop of water left;
for what did _she_ care about the fish or the potatoes so long as she
could have a quiet half-hour’s cry over the “BLACK PIRATE,” or else be
finding out what became of “MARY, THE PRIMROSE GIRL,” instead of looking
after my greens. It’s a perfect miracle to me, too, that we were not all
of us burnt in our beds; for when she found that I was one too many for
her, and kept throwing her “HEIRESSES OF SACKVILLE” and her “CHILDREN OF
TWO FATHERS” behind the fire as fast as she got them, then she must
needs go reading in her room half the night through, and smuggling
either “THE GIPSY BOY,” or else “THE MANIAC FATHER, _or the Victim of
Seduction_,” up to-bed with her of a night, robbing herself of her
proper rest and me of my candles; and even when I took care to see that
she had only an end just long enough to light her into bed, why then,
drat her impudence, if the nasty toad didn’t burn all the kitchen stuff
she could lay her hands upon in the butter-boat, with an old lamp wick
stuck up in the middle.

How on earth the horrid silly could ever have managed to pay for all the
works she took in out of the wages I allowed her, and what in the name
of goodness she could ever have thought was to become of her in her old
age, it would, I’m sure, take a much wiser head than mine to say; for
independently of being a constant subscriber from the commencement to
most of the penny novels, I declare nothing would please her stuck-up
literary ladyship but she must needs take in a newspaper of her own
every week, and be a constant reader of the “Penny Sunday Times,” though
what to gracious she could have seen in the thing, I can’t make out.
Positively, it used to make me shudder all over, and the blood run quite
cold down my back, to see the large, staring, frightful engraving that
there was always in the middle of its front page. For as true as each
Saturday came round, there was sure to be some great brute of a man, in
a Spanish hat and a large black cloak all flying about, striking some
very grand theatrical attitude, and flourishing over his head a big
carving-knife, to which three or four heavy notes of admiration were
hanging, while a poor defenceless woman lay at his feet, with her throat
cut as wide open as a cheese, and weltering in a pool of ink; and the
beauty of it was, the thing always had some grand title, like “THE EARL
IN HIS JEALOUS RAGE SLAYING THE LADY ISOLINE.”

Any one would naturally have fancied that the Penny Sunday Times and the
novels at the same price would have been quite enough to have satisfied
my lady’s love of the horrible; but, Lord bless you, no! I declare,
there wasn’t a single murder or last dying speech and confession cried
out in the streets, but she must rush up, all haste, to the door just to
have another pen’orth of horrors; and then she would sit herself down,
and never let the bit of paper go out of her hand until she had got the
whole of the affecting copy of verses at the end of it by heart, and
there I should have her marching about the house for weeks afterwards
chanting some such nonsense as the following:--

    “Biddle and Sheriff is our sad names,
    And do confess we were much to blame,
    On the 28th of September last,
    We well remember, alas! alas!
    The very thoughts causes us to rue,
    In Eighteen hundred and forty-two.”

I declare to goodness, there was no keeping the woman away from the door
as soon as she heard those husky vagabonds in the street, shouting away
at the top of their cracked post-horn voices, all at once, “The full,
true, and particular account” of some cock-and-a-bull-story or other;
and whether it was the “as-sas-si-nation of Lew-is Philip, the King of
the French,” (I’m sure those screaming scoundrels used to assassinate
that poor, dear old man at least two or three times a month in our
neighbourhood all the winter through,) or whether it was the “full
disclosures of an elopement of a certain pretty milliner, not a hundred
miles from these parts, with a well-known sporting nobleman, together
with authentic copies of all the love-letters found in a silver
cigar-case, which was picked up this morning by a respectable butcher in
High-street,” or indeed no matter what it was, my Miss Betsy was sure to
invest a penny in the rubbish, although directly I told her to let me
see the nonsense that she had been stupid enough to go wasting her money
about, of course, I used to find that it had nothing at all to do with
what the fellows had been crying, and was merely some trumped-up
rigmarole story, that would have done just as well for York as it did
for Camden Town--a pack of wicked scoundrels coming up, three at a time,
at the dusk of evening, alarming a quiet neighbourhood, and frightening
one out of one’s wits by bawling their wicked stories out all of a
sudden right under one’s window, and robbing the poor maids, who are
sure to buy their rubbish, and imposing upon the mistresses, who are
certain to read it.

As for the “new and popular songs,” too, it’s impossible to say how many
miles of ballads that Betsy must have bought in her time, at three yards
for a halfpenny. Positively, if the drawers in the dresser were not
crammed with her “CHERRY RIPES,” and her “MISTLETOE BOUGHS,” and her
“OLD ARM CHAIRS,” and her “CORK LEGS,” and a pack of other stuff, as
full as they could hold, with the stupid engravings at the top of some
of them, that had nothing at all to do with the song, for I declare if
there wasn’t a ship in full sail put as an illustration to “AWAY, AWAY,
TO THE MOUNTAIN’S BROW!” and a trumpery shepherdess, playing on a pipe
to two grubby little lambs, as the picture of “WANTED! A GOVERNESS!”

However, to come back to my gooseberry pudding and my weaning. Well,
thanks to that dear good mother of mine, I got the weaning all over so
nicely the reader can’t tell, though, I’m sorry to say that, thanks to
that beauty of a Betsy of mine, the gooseberry pudding with the wood in
it, that I had set my heart upon having so, wasn’t fit to have been set
before a pig, let alone a respectable married female like myself--Augh!
I declare I’ve got the taste of it in my mouth to this very day.

Well, as I was saying, I went by myself round to dear, dear mother’s,
(who, whatever her faults may be, still I must say has always been a
good mother to me,) and after we had had a nice long cry together, and
both of us agreed that it was all owing to Mr. Sk--n--st--n’s
continually trying, all he could, to set me against my own dear parents,
as he was, we kissed each other and made friends again; for, as my
darling mother very truly said, I had always been her own dear, good
girl, and, she would add, whatever might come of it, (though, far be it
from her to make words between man and wife,) that I was a _great_ deal
too good for that sour, good-for-nothing husband of mine, who, she
couldn’t help saying, was no gentleman. Then the dear, foolish old soul
_would_ make me step into the beautiful little back parlour and take a
mouthful of luncheon. And then, I declare, she _must_ go having up,
expressly for me, the beautiful cold, baked rice-pudding that she’d had
for dinner only the day before, and which, if it is well browned, and
has got plenty of custard, and a stick or two of cinnamon in it, is to
my mind as nice a thing as one can put one’s lips to. Nor, was this all.
Really she seemed as if she couldn’t make enough of me, for, do what I
would, I could not prevent the affectionate silly from opening a fresh
bottle of her lovely, best green-ginger wine on the joyful occasion, for
the more I told her that I dare not touch a drop of it for the life of
me, the more determined she seemed to be to open it.

Oh! upon my word, I don’t think I ever passed such a pleasant afternoon
as that was. I declare, as I sat there, looking out of that lovely
little window, and seeing that superb Regent’s Canal winding along like
a live eel, with father’s majestic barge dancing on its surface, and his
gallant heaver fast asleep in the stern, while here and there a child of
charity might be seen fishing on the banks, it seemed to me as if, with
a slight stretch of the imagination, you might have fancied yourself to
have been far away in beautiful Venice, and the swarthy bargeman the
sun-burnt gondolier of that romantic clime, while with a little extra
play of fancy one might easily have twisted the charity boys seeking the
finny tribe into the yellow-legged kingfishers, which I have heard
papa’s old friend, Mr. Glasscock, (who keeps a large Italian warehouse
in the neighbourhood, and consequently ought to know something about the
country,) over and over again say, delight to haunt the Venetian
shores.

Oh! it was so beautiful to sit there, eating that heavenly cold baked
rice-pudding till I was afraid I should make myself ill, and hearing
dear mother call me everything that was good, and Mr. Sk--n--st--n
everything that was bad. “Ah! my dear sweet Caroline,” she said, with
much feeling and great truth, “how you can ever have brought yourself to
put up with the brutal treatment of that disgraceful tyrant of a husband
of yours,--of whose conduct I must beg of you, my darling, not to ask me
to express any opinion,--is more than I should like to take upon myself
to state. All I can say is, my love, that if you had not been a perfect
angel, you would have packed up your things, and left the ungrateful
monster long ago. But I can see what he is after, my dear; he wont rest
easy until he has fidgetted you into an early grave; for I see as
plainly as plainly can be, that you are fast giving way under it, and
that your appetite is not half as good as it used to be, and that unless
you take as much strengthening food as you possibly can, the wretch will
break your heart chip by chip before he has done with you. However, it
is no business of mine, and Heaven forbid that I should say a word about
it! Only I wish to goodness gracious, with all my heart and soul, that
it had pleased Providence to have allowed your father to have blessed
you with a big brother, and then Mr. Sk--n--st--n would never have dared
to have treated you in the way he does. But, as I said before, it is a
subject which it pains me much to touch upon, so I shall let it drop,
merely observing, that if your respected father had the spirit of a
tadpole in him, he could never sit quietly smoking his pipe of an
evening down at that filthy wharf as he does, while he knows, as well as
I do, that a big-whiskered fellow is puzzling his wits to find out the
quickest way of driving his own innocent, gentle little lamb of a
Caroline into a premature coffin. But I have done with the painful
theme, my pet; so let me give you a little more ginger, and we will
change the conversation to a more lively theme, if you please.
By-the-bye, will you, on your return home, remember to mention to that
disgraceful husband of yours, that your dear father is now selling the
very best screened Wall’s-end coals as low as twenty-one shillings a
ton.”

Well, as I said before, I got the weaning over beautifully. Poor dear
mother was delighted at having the job, though father--just like all the
selfish men--was quite of a different way of thinking. Of course I kept
away from the dear little pet for more than a whole week, though I’m
sure I needn’t tell my fair readers that it was a hard, very hard
struggle for me to do so, as I made certain that the darling was
fretting its poor little life out for want of it. However, when I went
to fetch the dear, mother told me that it had been as good as gold all
the time, and had never cried once for it; for bless the little chick’s
heart, it’s got its own mother’s sweet temper--so it has.

And upon my word, I had only just got my new nurse in, and my little
toodle-loodle-lumpties (if I may be allowed so strong an expression) was
only just beginning to take its food nicely, when, lo and behold, if
that Easter Sunday didn’t pop round upon me! I never knew such a price
as gooseberries were--three-and-sixpence for a little tiddy basketful,
scarcely enough for one person; and Edward is such a pig at pastry,
especially if it’s short crust; though I take good care always to make
it flakey. However, it was a solemn feast; and if they had been twenty
shillings a quart, I should have felt it my bounden duty to have given
as much for them.

On the Saturday before Easter Sunday, I saw a little boy come to the
door; and as Miss Betsy was up-stairs, busy with the beds, I went and
opened it, when, bless us and save us, if it wasn’t a little dirty-faced
monkey who had brought round her ladyship’s papers for the week from her
twopenny-halfpenny newsvender. Oh, yes! there they were--“Penny Sunday
Times,” as usual, with another horrible engraving; and the fifteenth
part of “EMILY FITZORMOND, _or the Deserted One_;” together with the
commencement of “ELA THE OUTCAST, _or the Gipsy Girl of Rosemary Dell_;”
with the first number of which Nos. 2, 3, and 4, were given gratis. Like
a good-natured silly as I was, I went, letting her have the
highly-exciting rubbish, instead of tearing it all up, as I ought to
have done; and nicely I bit my fingers for my folly, for, just as I
might have expected, there she was, all the next day, so interested with
that stupid outcast of an Ela, that she couldn’t get my lamb down before
the fire until it was so late, that when it came to table it was only
just warmed through, and every one knows how nice underdone lamb is.
However, said I to myself, thank goodness, there’s a good large pudding
coming, or else I don’t know what I should do. But, Lord-a-mercy me!
when that came up, I thought I should have died of disgust and vexation,
for, drat the novel-reading blockhead, if she hadn’t been so taken up
with the fate of that bothering fal-lal gipsy-girl of Rosemary Dell,
indeed, that I declare, if she didn’t go beating up a nasty, filthy, bad
French egg, in my beautiful expensive little green gooseberries, with
the wood in them. As she had spoilt the lamb for me, of course I had
made little or no dinner, and, let alone my being as hungry as a hunter,
I was positively dying to taste my favourite pudding for the first time
that year, so that it wasn’t until I had put a large dessert-spoonful
into my mouth, that I found out what the minx had been doing. And then,
Uch! oh la! of all the messes, I thought I should have fainted! Taken
the roughness off, indeed--ay, that she had, with a vengeance. Upon my
word I was so vexed, I could have set down and had a good cry, I could;
but as it was, I merely said to the jade,--“I’ll make you pay soundly
for this, you may depend upon it, Miss Betsy; for if I don’t have
another gooseberry pudding out of your next quarter, my name isn’t what
it is; and I can tell you this, my fine lady, that if you don’t mind
your P’s and Q’s, you’ll find that those trumpery soul-thrilling novels
of yours will bring you to a bad end some of these fine mornings, take
my word for it.”

Oh! if I’d had my wits about me, and only been able to see my true
interests, I should have had none of the stupid scruples of conscience
that I had, and have got rid of the girl on the spot--only, thanks to
Mr. Edward, he must have it that I was only happy when I was changing,
when he knows that all I pray for is that I could get hold of some good,
honest, hard-working maid, that would live and die in my service. As for
Miss Betsy, she was quite a hopeless job. Upon my word she was so wrapt
up in her works of fiction, that really she would believe any trumpery
cock-and-a-bull story that was told her. There really was no trusting
her out of my sight, and that’s the truth. Once I went out just to get
a mouthful of fresh air in the Park, and on my return found that the
hall had been stripped, and the gold watch of Edward’s poor dear first
wife, which he had given me before we were married, had been carried off
the mantelpiece by a fellow, whom she would have was the clergyman of
the parish, and who, she said, requested to be allowed to write a letter
to me about the Easter offering. If, too, by any accident I let the key
of the area-gate out of my possession for more than a minute, she was
certain to have down in the kitchen the first gipsy woman, with her
trumpery box of sewing cottons to sell, that she could lay hold of, just
to tell her rubbishing fortune, and who, after stuffing her head that
she saw by the lines in her great ugly, coarse hand, that she was to
marry a certain black-eyed young baker, and was to have her nine
children and a shay-cart, and promising her, moreover, a large fortune
into the bargain, would be certain to wind up by walking off with my
silver spoons. The beauty of it was, too, that when I used to rate the
romantic idiot soundly for her disgusting simplicity, telling her that
she ought to be whipped at the cart’s tail for encouraging a pack of
thieves in the way she did, upon my word if she wouldn’t, with all the
coolness in the world, go off lamenting the degraded state of the
robbers of the present day, saying that they were not half the fine set
of people that they used to be in “the good old times and days of yore;”
and then she’d actually have the impudence to look me in the face, and
ask me if I knew anything about the great Jack Sheppard, declaring that
he was the robber for her money, for he never shed blood but once; and
whatever his faults might have been, the book that had been written upon
him said very beautifully that he never told a lie.

This was the secret of it all. Of course, with the high-flown notions
she had got of robbers, and brigands, and pirates, and a pack of other
pickpockets, out of her weekly pennyworths of romantic rodomontades; and
believing that the vagabonds possessed every virtue under the sun, with
merely the slight drawback of occasionally wanting either your money or
your life, she was a common victim to every villain that chose to impose
upon her. I declare she got me into one scrape by her credulity that
nearly proved the death of me, (though it wasn’t the one that I spoke of
last month, and for which I sent her away.)

You see, summer was just coming on, and the fine weather had set in; so
I went to work, looking up my light dresses; and it’s very lucky I did
so, for there was scarcely any of them that were fit to put on. They
were all as yellow as marigolds; so I packed them off to the wash, every
one excepting a very nice clear muslin, which really was so slightly
discoloured, that it seemed to me worse than a sin to go giving a matter
of eightpence to have it washed, when with a nice dark shawl it would
look nearly clean, and do very well for a walk round the park some fine
day at the end of the week. When I saw my beautiful Swiss cambric again,
with its sweet pretty little, bright-red flower upon it, and its rich
skirt and four rows of deep flounces, I couldn’t for the life of me help
saying to myself, “Oh, you are a perfect love, I declare! and when
you’re nicely clear-starched you’ll look superb, with my pink drawn silk
bonnet and green shot-silk scarf, next Sunday at church.” And the more I
looked at it, the more it struck me that I might just as well coax my
own dear Edward, the first evening he was in one of his merry humours,
to consent to have a one-horse fly for half the day; and then after
church we could go round and make a number of calls that I was
positively dying to rub off, and afterwards take a drive round Hyde
Park, and wind up with a promenade in Kensington Gardens. Nothing on
earth would have given me greater pleasure than to have taken my darling
good mother with me, as I knew it would do her so much good; but then
she always _will_ dress so funny, and I felt convinced that, as matters
stood, it would not be safe to trust the dear old soul with Edward a
whole afternoon in a shut-up fly, or they would be certain to get to
high words again, and then I should never forgive myself.

Well, on the Monday, off I packed my dresses, with the dirty linen, to
the wash, and gave the woman a whole string of directions as to how I
wanted them done. When the Saturday came, I declare it was such a fine
warm day, that I slipped on the clear muslin that I had kept back, and
went out in the afternoon to pay the last week’s bills; and while I was
in the neighbourhood, I thought I might just as well run round to Mrs.
L--ckl--y’s, and ask that sweet woman to take a walk down Oxford-street
with me and look at the shops; for, to tell the truth, I felt that I
wanted a mouthful of fresh air. So off Mrs. L--ckl--y and I set
together; and though there was not so much as a goat’s hair or a mare’s
tail to be seen in the sky when we started, of course, as usual, we had
no sooner set foot in Regent-street than it began to spit a bit.
However, as we thought it would not last, and we didn’t see the fun of
spoiling our bonnets, why we both of us agreed that it would be best to
step into Hodge and Lowman’s, and just look at a few things that we
didn’t want, until it had given over. But, oh dear, no! nothing of the
kind; for though we must have stopped there, I should say, a good
half-hour, pulling the things over, and having first this dress out of
the window, and then that, until we put the poor man to such trouble,
that Mrs. L--ckl--y whispered to me that she really thought that she
must buy a yard or two of sarsnet ribbon, just for the look of the
thing; it really seemed as if the fates had conspired against my clear
muslin, for, upon my word, it only kept getting worse and worse, and
came down at last in such straight lines, that it really looked as if it
was raining iron wires. So, as it was getting close to dinner time, and
I thought Edward would be coming home and fidgetting again about the
place for want of his dinner, I told Mrs. L--ckl--y, that, since a cab
up to her house, in Albany-street, would come to the same money as the
bus, why it would be much better to take one, instead of having a parcel
of wet umbrellas stuck right against one’s knees, and the dirty boots of
those filthy men wiped right on the flounces of one’s dress--especially,
too, as I knew Mrs. L--ckl--y had too much of the lady in her ever to be
mean enough to accept of my trumpery sixpence towards such a trifle as
the shilling fare. Accordingly, we jumped into the first cab we could
catch, and on the road I made up my mind pretty quickly not to go taking
the thing on to P--rk V--ll--ge, for I saw, as plain as the nose on my
face, that I should have the whole fare to pay if I did, for, of course
it would look just as bad for me to accept of her beggarly sixpence as
it would for her ever to think of taking mine. When the cab stopped at
Mrs. L--ckl--y’s, I told her I would step in and arrange my hair just
for a minute, and of course, I couldn’t do less than _offer_ to pay the
fare, never for an instant fancying that she would be stingy enough to
take advantage of my generosity; but, like a stupid, I must go overdoing
it, for the more she kept refusing, the more I kept pressing, and when
she protested “she wouldn’t listen to such a thing for a moment,” I
(just for the look of the thing) directly declared that I would insist
upon doing it, whereupon, drat it, if her ladyship wasn’t shabby enough
to say, “Well, then, if you _insist_ upon it, my dear, I suppose I must
give way,” and scampered off into the house, leaving me with that
shameful impostor of a cabman, who wouldn’t be satisfied with anything
less than eighteenpence. Augh! it isn’t the trumpery one-and-sixpence
that I grumble about, but the nasty mean spirit in which I was left to
pay it. Thank goodness, _I_ couldn’t be guilty of such meanness--no, not
if I was to die for it to-morrow; but then, you know, some people are so
different to others.

Well, after I had sat for a minute, twiddling my thumbs in Mrs.
L--ckl--y’s front parlour, I said, that as it seemed to be holding up a
little, I thought that if she would be kind enough to lend me an
umbrella, I should be able to get as far as our house without much
inconvenience. So I had my umbrella, and off I started; but then, bother
take the thing! it was one of those thin wiry Germans, with ribs no
thicker than bodkins, and as the wind was rather high, I declare if, at
the very first turning I came to, the trumpery bit of goods didn’t turn
right inside out, and do what I would, I could neither get it down nor
back again into its proper shape, and there was I obliged to go stalking
all up Albany-street, holding up the inverted thing, looking like a
great big funnel, and which, instead of keeping the rain off me, of
course only served to collect all the water over my head like a cistern,
which, being full of holes, of course it let through again, just like a
shower-bath, and while I kept continually looking up to see where the
dickens all the water that was pouring down upon me could come from, I
kept stepping into all kinds of puddles, right up to the cotton tops of
my white silk stockings, so that by the time I got home, I was
positively soaking, and all my hair and things hung about me, for all
the world like the feathers of the cocks and hens on a rainy day.

As soon as I got up-stairs in the bed-room, I rang for Betsy, and asked
her if they’d brought the clean things home from the wash, for I thought
I’d better put on my clean morning wrapper.

“Oh, yes, mum,” she answered; “they brought them an hour or two ago.”

“Then just bring them up-stairs to me, there’s a good girl,” I replied.

“If you please, mum,” she returned, “a man called immediately after
they’d brought them, and said that the wrong basket had been left by
mistake, and took it away, saying he would bring ours in a minute or
two.”

“And do you mean to stand there, woman, and tell me that you were
simpleton enough to give it?” I continued, as the whole truth flashed
upon me; for mother had had the very same wicked trick played off upon
her, and had cautioned me against it herself.

“Yes, mum, I did,” she answered, quite coolly, “and he’s never been back
since.”

“Of course he hasn’t,” I shrieked out, “and never will you set eyes upon
him, or my clean linen again. Oh! you good-for-nothing, shameful,
novel-reading, story-believing hussy. Now, see what your highly exciting
romances have led you to do. Here am I, who have always been the best of
mistresses to you, wet to the skin, and without a clean morning wrapper
to put on, nor even so much as a dress fit to go to church in to-morrow,
to say nothing of the two pairs of beautiful linen sheets that you’ve
wilfully lost for me, and the very white trousers that my husband was
married in, and which I wouldn’t have parted with for untold gold.
There, go down stairs and hide your face, and think how you’ll relish it
when you have to pay for it, and find, as you most assuredly will, that
you haven’t got a penny to receive at the end of the year.”

However, it was useless fretting; there were three of as beautiful
summer dresses as ever were made, and the beautiful afternoon’s ride I
had promised myself after church on the morrow, all gone; for my sweet
pretty Swiss cambric was among the number, and I could never think of
walking in Kensington Gardens in that grubby, seedy, hot, plaid thing,
that I had worn all the winter through. As I said before, it was useless
fretting, so I changed from top to toe, and put on some of the things I
had taken off during the week, which, to say the least, were dry; and,
as I wasn’t in the humour to care a pin how I looked, why, I popped on
my flannel dressing-gown, for, to tell the truth, I felt rather chilly,
and Mr. Edward might tell me, for the hundredth time, that I looked like
an old watchman in it, as much as he pleased, for what I cared.

At dinner, just as we were taking cheese, there came that plaguy
Saturday night ring at our area-bell, and I could have staked my
existence that it was that dirty-faced young monkey of a boy again,
bringing Miss Betsy another pen’orth of her precious “EMILY FITZORMOND,”
and the fifth part of that bothering, vagabond “outcast” of an “ELA.”

It was as much as I could do to prevent myself from jumping off my seat,
and rushing down stairs, and tearing the whole of the high-flown fustian
out of the hussy’s hand, just as she was enjoying that “Sunday Times”
picture, as I knew she was. But, luckily for her, I felt far from
myself, for I was as sure as sure could be that I had caught such a cold
as would play old gooseberry with me,--if I might be allowed so strong
an expression,--and I didn’t take it in time.

Nor was I wrong, for scarcely was the dinner cleared away, than on came
the shivers, just as I expected, and I kept going hot and cold by turns,
and I declare all my joints ached so, that as I walked across the room,
I felt as if I could have fallen down and gone all to pieces, just like
the dancing skeleton in the Fantoccini, while my poor old knees began to
shoot away as if some one was digging a carving-fork into them; and my
wretched back was as cold as though a person was amusing himself by
pouring buckets of spring-water right down between my shoulders; and
though I put on all the shawls and cloaks I had got in the house, and
sat with my nose right in the fire, (if I may be allowed the phrase,)
still I could not get warm. When I complained to Mr. Edward of how ill I
felt, he only answered, “The fact is, my dear, you’ve caught a violent
cold,” (as if I didn’t know that as well as he did, the brute,) “and the
sooner you get yourself up-stairs to bed the better; and if you follow
my advice, you’d have it warmed first, and take a good large basinful of
gruel, with a James’s powder, for supper.”

“Gruel and James’s powder, indeed!” I replied, with much sarcasm; “you
wont gruel and James’s powder me, I can tell you, sir;--as if _I_ didn’t
know what’s good for a cold;--a glass of hot rum-and-water, with a bit
of butter, the size of a walnut; and that’s what _I_ call good for a
cold.”

“For goodness’ sake mind, my love, and tallow your nose as well,”
returned Mr. Knowall.

“Yes, Mr. Edward,” I replied, “I _shall_ tallow my nose as well, and tie
my flannel petticoat round my head into the bargain--that’s what I shall
do.”

“And a lot of good it’ll do you,” he answered. “A pack of old woman’s
rubbish.”

“You call it old woman’s rubbish, do you?--then I don’t,” I continued,
with my customary satire. “I call it an excellent remedy--that’s what I
call it.”

“But how can the tallow on your nose do you any good, I should like to
know!” he returned.

“You’d like to know?” I said, in my bitterest way--“I dare say you
would, but I’m not going to tell you.”

“Yes; but why is it an excellent remedy?” he inquired, grinning in a way
I didn’t half like.

“Because it is,” I replied, with my usual argument.

“Yes; but what on earth do you use it for?” he continued.

“Because I do,” I answered, determined to have the best of it.

As I wasn’t going to stop there wasting my argumentative powers upon a
man who was deaf to reason, I put an end to his sneers by ringing the
bell for that Betsy, and told her to get some boiling water ready as
soon as she could, for I wanted to have my bed warmed, and to be sure
and stand the warming-pan near the fire for a few minutes before putting
the water in it, so that I might have it as hot as I could. We always
used one of the new patent hot-water warming-pans, because with them
one hasn’t that nasty coal-gassy smell that the old-fashioned things
invariably leave behind them; and there’s no chance--even if the pan’s
left to stand a moment in the bed--of having one’s best linen sheets
scorched, and with large brown marks upon them as if they were stuck
over with pancakes.

I thought my lady was taking her time nicely to boil a trumpery kettle
full of water. So, even ill as I was, I couldn’t help just slipping
quietly down stairs, and popping in upon her when she least expected me.
Hoity-toity! was there ever such a sight!--I thought I should have
dropped down when I saw it. My beautiful kitchen for all the world like
a cheap Jack’s cart at a fair--saucepans here, kettles there, crockery
everywhere, while my beauty was sitting with her toes cocked up on the
fender, and that trumpery “GIPSY GIRL OF ROSEMARY DELL” in her hand, as
I live, and crying water-spouts over that stupid, disgusting “OUTCAST”
of an “ELA.” There was our cat, too, right in the frying-pan, and the
house flannel and the scrubbing-brush in the fish-kettle, and that
precious “EMILY FITZORMOND, _or the Deserted One_,” lying on the ground,
with the “RANGER OF THE TOMB” by her side, and “FATHERLESS FANNY, or the
_Mysterious_ Orphan,” as the thing was called, all over grease, and
without even so much as a wrapper to its back, pitched about anywhere.
There were all the dirty plates and dishes besides, just as they had
come down from dinner more than an hour ago, side by side with the
breakfast things, which she had got to wash up before we could have even
a mouthful of tea; and although it was nearly dark, I declare she hadn’t
so much as cleaned a single candlestick all the day through, for they
were standing on the hob with all the hot tallow running out of them,
and dripping into one of my best new block-tin saucepans. As I’m a
Christian, drat the woman, if she hadn’t stuck my beautiful bright
copper warming-pan, too, (that hadn’t been used more than twice, and
which I picked up, quite a bargain, at a broker’s only a year ago,)
right on the top of the oven, and so close to the fire, that, upon my
word, when I went to take hold of it, it was nearly red hot, while of
course her head was so full of her romantic rubbish, that she hadn’t so
much as thought about the hot water; for,

[Illustration: _The Sentimental-Novel Reader._]

instead of putting the kettle on, she hadn’t even taken the nasty,
greasy gridiron on which she had done our pork chops off the fire.

This, I must confess, was more than common flesh and blood like mine
could bear; so I flew at my duchess, and snatching out of her hand her
grand works,--“which should be in every person’s library!” indeed,--I
bundled them all into what, to my mind, was a much fitter place for
them--the fire; and what’s more, I put the kettle right on top of them,
and by the time I had done reading the minx such a lecture as she wont
forget in a hurry, thank goodness I had the kettle boiling away quite
nicely.

All this exertion--ill as I was--took such an effect on my delicate
nerves, that I determined upon going to bed directly. So I told her to
fill the warming-pan, and take it up stairs as quick as she could, while
I went to make myself a glass of nice hot rum-and-water, with a bit of
butter and plenty of sugar in it, and which, with a bit of tallow
(despite all Mr. Edward’s low sneers) just the size of a pea rubbed over
the bridge of my nose, is--as my lady readers will agree with me--as
good a thing as one can fly to when one’s got a nasty cold coming on
one.

When I got up stairs, there was my lady in her sulks, of course, warming
the bed as if she had fallen asleep over it. So as I wasn’t going to put
up with any of her tantrums, I went behind her, and telling her that I
would show her how to warm the bed, I seized hold of her arm and pushed
it backwards and forwards so fast that I could hear all the water wabble
again in it--little dreaming at the time that the solder of the nasty
twopenny halfpenny bit of goods had got melted, all through Miss Betsy’s
standing it so long and so close to the fire as she had, and that I was
actually shaking the water out of it all over my bed, as fast as if the
thing had been a watering-pot. The worst of it was too, that the beastly
new-fangled warming-pan must have held a gallon if it did a spoonful;
and seeing that Miss Betsy wanted to get down stairs again, to some more
of her trumpery novels, as I thought, I wouldn’t let her go, but made
her stand shaking the leaky thing up and down the sheets--particularly
on my side too--until I had tied my flannel petticoat nicely over my
night-cap, and finished all my rum-and-water, and had put all my things
by, just out of aggravation, to keep her up there as long as I could,
and was quite ready to get into bed.

When Miss Betsy had gone, and I had let down the night-bolt--I declare I
had been dawdling about so long in the cold, that I was quite frightened
lest I should have taken another chill--putting out the candle, I jumped
into bed as quick as ever I could. And then, oh lud-a’-mercy me! what a
pretty pickle it was in, to be sure. If the linen sheets weren’t
positively just like sheets of water, and the whole bed as wet as the
bed of the River Thames. I tumbled out again like lightning, as any one
may easily imagine, when, drat it! if all my night clothes weren’t as
wet and cold as a dog’s nose, and the worst of it was, they would keep
clinging to me as if they were so much wet blotting-paper. I rushed to
the bell, and pulled, and pulled, and pulled away, until Mr.
Sk--n--st--n must have thought either that I had set the house on fire,
or overlaid my dear little lamb, or found a brute of a man under the
bed; for up he came, gasping away, crying out, “What on earth is the
matter, Caroline?” and five minutes afterwards, up Miss Betsy sauntered,
as leisurely as if nothing at all had happened.

“The matter,” I cried, pulling off the bed-clothes, and throwing aside
the sheet, that was so wet you might have wrung it--“Look here,” I said,
holding up the soaking blanket; and which, when I let it go, I declare,
fell with a flop upon the ground, for all the world as if it had been a
batter-pudding--“And look here, too,” I cried, showing him the
feather-bed tick, which really looked as dark as a slate with the
wet--“Just come and feel it yourself, and say if it isn’t like a sponge,
and then ask yourself how you’ll like to sleep upon it all night, for
sleep upon it you must, as there isn’t another in the house. What’s
more, too, these are the only sheets that you can have to lie upon
to-night, for, thanks to that Miss Betsy there, she must not only think
fit to give away all the clean ones I had home from the wash this very
day, to the first person that chose to come and ask for them, but to
make the thing complete, she must needs go burning a hole in the hot
water warming-pan, and drenching my only remaining pair; and just
because she knew I had caught a severe cold, and wanted a comfortable
warm bed to set me right again. Oh, you wicked, abominable,
novel-reading hussy you! you’ll be the death of me before you’ve done
with me, you will! How you can have the impudence to stand there and
look me in the face, and not expect the floor to open and swallow you up
for your shameful goings on--and how _you_, too, Mr. Edward,” I
continued, turning to Mr. Sk--n--st--n, “how you can stand there, as
quiet as a common cab-horse, and see your poor wife worried into her
grave in this way by that wicked woman, and not send her about her
business this very moment, is beyond my limited powers to comprehend.”

But of course the only answer my gentleman could make me was to tell
Miss Betsy to go down stairs; and then, if he didn’t turn round as cool
as a cucumber, and tell me to my own face, that it was all my fault (my
fault!--mark, if you please, gentle reader.) But it was just what I had
expected--indeed, I had said as much to myself--of course, it was all
_my_ fault! _I_ had done it all, _I_ had--and that minx of a _Betsy_ had
had nothing to do with it--of course _I_ had burnt the hole in the
warming-pan, and filled it with water, to be sure; and more than that,
_I_ had warmed the bed, I suppose--though, as I very cleverly told my
lord duke, if I _had_, _I_ had done it in my sleep, and there was an end
of it. Then I gave it Mr. Edward so soundly, and told him what I thought
of him so plainly, and made him so heartily ashamed of himself, that,
upon my word, at last he marched up to the drawers, and taking his
razors and a clean nightgown and night-cap, with all the impudence in
the world, told me to my face he was going to sleep out. So I told him
very quietly that he might do just as he pleased about that, but if he
did, to rest assured, that as sure as his and my name were Sk--n--st--n,
I’d never pass another night under his roof. But my gentleman only
turned on his heel and walked himself off as grandly down stairs as if
he were doing some mighty fine action, and thinking, of course, that I
should run after him and call him back. But, oh dear, no!--I wasn’t
going to make such a silly of myself as that--no!--not if he were the
only man in the world.

But, thank goodness, I’ve got a spirit of my own, and however much I
might have felt the absence of the monster, still I was determined not
to show it. So directly I heard the street-door slam, I marched up
stairs, and ringing the bell for Betsy, made her carry down her own
mattress and blankets for me to sleep on, telling her that she might lie
upon the bare bedstead, if she pleased, and that if, in the morning, she
got up and found herself striped all over with the marks of the bits of
wood at the bottom of it, like a herring just taken off a gridiron, why
she needn’t blame me, as she would have only herself to thank for it.

Not so much as a wink of sleep could I get, but did nothing but cry and
fidget all that miserable night through. Not that I cared about Mr.
Edward leaving me all alone in my distress at a time when he didn’t know
whether I had a bed to lie down upon or not, or whether my severe cold
might not take a serious turn, and end in a rheumatic fever, or goodness
knows what,--it wasn’t this I cared about, I say; but it was the nasty,
callous way in which he did it--not even so much as saying where a
person might find him, supposing anything happened to one, and which I
felt I never should be able to forget to my dying day. But I wasn’t
going to submit to be treated worse than a parish orphan, so directly I
heard the chimney-sweeps in the street, I tumbled out of bed, and merely
taking the child and my hair-brush and such things as I couldn’t do
without for a day or two, I went down stairs, and having cut off a slice
of bread-and-butter, just to keep the wind out of my stomach, I wrote my
lord a short letter, telling him that I had left his house

    FOR EVER!!!

and signing it--“Your heart-broken and affectionate--though
she-can-never-consent-to-live-with-you-again--wife CAROLINE,” and then
putting the key of the tea-caddy inside the note, I left it with Betsy,
telling her to give it to her master when he came home, and to be sure
and have the breakfast all ready and comfortable for him by nine o’clock
at the latest--and that I was going to Mrs. B--ff--n’s, but on no
account to tell Mr. Sk--n--st--n where I had gone, as I wouldn’t have
him know it for the world. Then off I went, with Kate in my arms and a
tear in my eye, and made the best of my way round to dear mother’s, as I
felt convinced, even if Betsy didn’t tell my husband, _that_ would be
the first place to which he would fly to seek me, and that I should have
him come rushing round to me and begging and praying of me to return to
his disconsolate home, before a couple of hours were over my head.

When I reached my own dear mother’s, and told what had happened, oh, it
would have done any married lady’s heart good to have seen the
affectionate old thing kiss me and fondle me, vowing I had got her own
fine spirit, and that she was so delighted to find I was no worm, and
that the noble way in which I had acted would teach Mr. Sk--n--st--n as
much. When I asked her whether she was perfectly sure that Edward would
come after me, she tried to make my mind easy by telling me that it was
as sure as coals were coals--though this far from quelled my fears; for
from the quality of the ton father had last sent us, I had my doubts
upon that subject. But mother went on, saying, “The men are always sure
to come after one the first time, my angel--though a second, I must
confess, grows a little dangerous; and with a person of Mr.
Sk--n--st--n’s disposition, however much I might recommend you once to
declare you had separated yourself from him for ever, still I should
not, as a mother, like to advise you to try it twice, unless, indeed,
you could get him beforehand to agree to allow you a very handsome
separate maintenance, as the wretch ought to do, my dove. Now, I
recollect about three years after you were born, sweetest, I had a
serious quarrel with Mr. B--ff--n, your father, about the parson’s nose,
I think, of as fine and fat a duck as ever came to table--and which
tit-bit we were both extremely partial to. And the long and short of it
was, he said such things to me that I felt I ought not to stop another
minute in the house of such a man. So, accordingly, since all my
relations lived in Kent, I engaged a small bed out by the night, and
left your wretch of a father, my love--for ever!! But, as I expected, he
soon found out where I had gone to, and, rushing round, he threw himself
at my feet, and began tearing his poor dear bald head so frightfully,
that I was obliged to consent to return to his home, and see whether
the contrition he professed was really sincere or not by the present he
made me; but, when I tell you, my life, that the next day he only
brought me home a trumpery plated ale tankard, which, of course, was
more for himself than it was for me, you will be able to judge of the
deceitfulness of man, and, if you take my advice, you will stipulate to
have from Mr. Sk--n--st--n whatever you may want before you are weak
enough to consent to make him happy by returning home. Remember, my
angel, such chances seldom occur more than once in a poor woman’s
lifetime; so, if you will listen to me, you will not throw away this
golden opportunity, but sit down quietly now, and just turn over in your
mind whether you think you could bring yourself ever to live under the
same roof with Mr. Sk--n--st--n again, even if he were to promise to
insure his life in your favour, so as to make you comfortable after his
death, my angel, or else to double the money he allows you for the
housekeeping every week, or any other little trifling sign of repentance
which you think he ought to show, my poppet. Only mark my words--‘If you
don’t strike the iron whilst it’s hot, you’ll live to repent it, as your
too trusting mother has over and over again done, my lamb!’”

Upon my word, if dear mother wasn’t as good as a witch, for, in about a
couple of hours, round came Mr. Sk--n--st--n all of a fluster. Then, of
course, he was all sorrow and affection, and nothing was _too_ good for
me, and, if I would only _consent_ to come back again, he’d be the
happiest of men. Oh! I was so glad to think that poor _I_ had humbled my
grand lord, no one can tell; and, when I saw that tear twinkling in the
corner of his eye, I really couldn’t for the life of me help smiling
inwardly, with honest pride, to think of the triumph I had gained, and
that I had brought my headstrong gentleman to his proper senses, and
made him conscious of my worth. Though, of course, he must go begging
and praying of me, after a bit, that I would keep all my troubles about
my servants to myself for the future, and not be always tormenting him
with them when he came home of an evening, tired, from business, saying
that then he was sure we should go on so comfortably together. So I told
him that it was foolish of him to expect that we could ever get a good
servant who would do all the work of that great big house, and clean the
boots and knives, and be dressed in the afternoon to answer the door as
well; and, as I saw that he was just in the humour not to refuse me
anything, and I had made up my mind long ago to have a page in the
house, just like the boy at the L--ckl--y’s, directly I could wheedle my
husband into it, I said that, unless some alteration was made in our
establishment, I was sure I should be in my grave before long. And when
he said, “What alteration do you propose, my dear?--for goodness’ sake,
have anything you like, if it will only put an end to these disturbances
between us,”--I pretty soon clenched the business, and got him to
promise I might get a nice genteel youth, and put him in a handsome
livery, who could follow us to church with the prayer-books, (which I do
think looks so respectable;) or, if ever I went out for a walk, could
come trotting after me, and enable me to go past the barracks in
Albany-street without the fear of being insulted by those soldier
fellows!

So we went home so pleasantly together, the reader don’t know; and,
bless my Edward’s kind heart, when I reminded him of the dresses, and
sheets, and things I had lost, if he didn’t give me a very handsome
cheque indeed, to buy some new ones with, though I said at the time,
when I took it, that it was more than I wanted. But, to do my husband
justice, though he is very hasty, I’m sure no one can strive more than
he does to make amends for it afterwards.

I’ll warrant he doesn’t go sleeping out again in a hurry!




CHAPTER XIV.

     NOW THANK GOODNESS I’VE COME TO THAT MISCHIEVOUS YOUNG MONKEY Of A
     PAGE, WHO CERTAINLY WAS MORE THAN ONE POOR WOMAN COULD MANAGE, AND
     LITERALLY AND TRULY NOTHING LESS THAN A MILLSTONE ROUND MY NECK,
     (IF I MAY BE ALLOWED SO STRONG AN EXPRESSION,) AND WHILE MY HAND’S
     IN, I SHALL JUST TAKE THE LIBERTY OF SPEAKING MY MIND VERY FREELY
     ABOUT THE GOINGS ON, TOO, OF THAT HIGHTY-FLIGHTY BEAUTY OF A NURSE
     (I NEVER KNEW SUCH A NURSE) OF A MISS SARAH OF MINE.

    “My pretty page.”

     POPULAR DUET, _which I remember when I was at school at Boulogne,
     poor Miss Rippon was so fond of singing with that impudent wretch
     of a French music-master, whom she afterwards ran away with; though
     what she could ever have seen in the man, is more than I could ever
     make out._

    “With a few alterations, oh, la!
    We’ll make a beautiful boy.”
               COMIC SONG.

    “Of all the girls that are so smart,
      There’s none like pretty Sally.”
               SALLY IN OUR ALLEY.


It strikes me, now I come to think of it, that I have mentioned
somewhere before, that the only thing I prayed for when I went to bed of
a night was, that Providence would send me a servant that would live and
die with me. Consequently, it seemed to me that now or never was my time
to pitch upon some nice well-disposed lad, who would do for my page in
my prime, and grow up to be a footman to me in my old age. So what did
my stupid good-nature prompt me to do, but to march down one fine
morning to St. Giles’ workhouse, where often and often, on my way down
to Edward’s chambers, I had noticed several nice-looking boys, with
particularly clean collars, standing on the steps waiting to be taken as
apprentices. For of course I was not going to be such a silly as to take
some young monkey into my service, and then just after I had taught him
his business, to have him wanting to be off to _better_ himself,
indeed!--before his livery was thoroughly worn out, too, may be.
Besides, as we had a young family growing up about us, I felt that it
was my duty to save when I could, for all the world knows that a penny
saved is twopence gained--though I never could, for the life of me, make
out how that could be, notwithstanding I have had it explained to me by
a pack of wiseacres over and over again. And, under the circumstances,
I’m sure I didn’t see the joke of paying a matter of ten pounds a year
or so to a little chit of a thing, that would have to get on a chair to
rub down my parlour tables. So as I could have an apprentice from the
workhouse without paying any wages at all, and they’d give five pounds
into the bargain, which would just do for the brat’s livery, why I
pretty soon called upon the master of the place, to look over the stock
of youths he had on hand, and see if they were anything like the very
attractive sample he had got stuck so conspicuously at the door. But
though I had up some dozen of young urchins, I pretty soon saw that they
were nothing at all equal to the pattern outside; and the beauty of it
was, that the man wanted to persuade me that a nasty little
crumpet-faced, moist-sugar-haired, stunted orphan, was the very one to
suit me, saying, “That the lad had got more marks for morals than any
other boy in the school.” But, “No, thank you,” I replied; “I think I’ll
take that youth, if you please,” pointing to the best-looking of the
show ones; for I was determined to do the same here as I do with those
dreadful cheats of linendrapers, and be served from the superior
articles ticketed up in the window.

I wasn’t long before I had my young Turk’s livery, and a beautiful one
it was to be sure. Oh, when it came home, I think it looked the sweetest
thing I ever set eyes upon in all my life. The jacket was a claret, with
three rows of sugar-loaf buttons, as close together as a rope of onions;
and there were a pair of nice quiet dark-coloured pantaloons, running
rather into the port wine than partaking of the claret; and to guard
against the brat’s growing out of them before they were fairly worn out,
I had taken the wise precaution of having two or three tucks put in at
the bottom of them--though, really and truly for the matter of that, I
might just as well have let it alone--for positively the urchin shot up
so fast that I do think he must have grown six tucks, at least, the
first year he was with me. And the worst of it was, your clarets do fade
so, that by the time the tucks were let out, his trousers had got so
plaguy light, and the place where the tucks had been was so plaguy dark,
that upon my word the bottom of his legs had large black rings round
them like the legs of an imitation bamboo bedstead. And though I tried
to get them over his boots, yet, do as I would, I could not manage it;
for if I made him strap them down, there were a good three inches of
shirt showing all below his jacket, and if I made him brace them up,
there were all the tops of his dirty socks to be seen above his
bluchers.

I don’t know whether it was that the young monkey knew that I had bound
myself to keep him for five years or not; but he certainly did play old
gooseberry with my lovely livery in a most shameful way. Positively, he
couldn’t have had it more than a week before it was not fit to be seen,
all stained in front, and over yellow marks, like a baking dish. I’m
sure that, before a month was over his head, the knees of his trousers,
and the sleeves of his jacket, right up to the elbows, were as black and
shiny with grease as if they had been blackleaded. Over and over again
have I said to him, “Really, Wittals, it is enough to break the heart of
a saint to see the state your clothes are in! where you can think
liveries come from I can’t tell.” And though I was continually making
him take the grease spots out with turpentine, still it was only taking
a great deal of trouble and turpentine for nothing; for the next day he
would be in the same state again, and I should have the urchin going
about the house smelling for all the world as if he had been newly
painted.

As for the antics of that young Wittals, too, I declare they were enough
to worry any peaceably disposed woman into Bedlam. Not a thing could he
do like a rational creature; but I declare the young Turk was frisking
about the house like a parched pea in a pan, and running in and out like
a dog at a fair. If he had to go up stairs for anything, instead of
walking down again like a Christian, he must needs get astride the
mahogany banisters, and slide down like a monkey. Then again, if I sent
him out ever such a little way, he would be sure to be gone ten times
as long as he need be; for of course he would either be looking into all
the picture shops, or go flattening his nose against some pastrycook’s
window, eyeing the ladies and gentlemen feasting inside--or else waiting
to see some cab-horse get up--or walk miles in the opposite direction to
which I had sent him, following some trumpery Punch and Judy, or
tumblers--or either stop for hours playing at some game with buttons, or
pulling up stones and things with that nasty bit of wet leather tied to
the end of a string, which he always kept in his pocket. And when I was
wondering what on earth could have become of him, and jumping up and
running to the window every second minute to see whether there were any
signs of the young vagabond, lo and behold I should see him come
galloping along; either flying over every post on his way, or else
rattling the street-door key along the rails of every house he passed;
or if the turncock had only pulled the flag up in the middle of the
road, and turned the water on, there I should be sure to catch sight of
him, with his foot right on the hole, squirting the water out on each
side of the street, drenching all the little boys that were near, and
destroying my bluchers, as I’m a living woman.

When he was in the house, too, he was just as trying to one’s
patience--not one minute’s peace would the noisy young scamp ever let me
have. If he wasn’t playing “Happy Land” on the Jew’s-harp, he would be
safe to be trying that frightful “Nix my Dolly Pals,” or “Happy Land,”
on his hair-comb. No matter what I gave him to do--I declare he couldn’t
keep at it for more than two minutes together, but off he’d be as if he
had got nothing but quicksilver in his veins. Now, of a morning, he had
got a trumpery dozen of knives to clean, but, bless you! even they were
too much for him to do right off; for positively, as soon as he had
cleaned one of them, he’d throw himself on his hands, and cocking his
legs straight up in the air, he’d sing one verse of “Such a getting up
stairs” on his head, all the while beating time with the soles of his
feet--and then down he’d come again, do another knife, and then either
be off to the back kitchen window, where he would stand making himself
as knock-knee’d as a frog, and, turning his toes in and his elbows out,
make the most horrible faces to Betsy through the window, shouting out
to her, “Here we are,” just like the stupid clowns in the pantomime,--or
else, all of a sudden, creep into the house, and, going up behind her
back, give _such_ a whistle through his fingers right into her ear, as
would make the whole house ring again, and set one’s teeth on edge as
bad as slate pencil slid along a slate, frightening that nervous Betsy
out of her life, and making her drop whatever she might have in her
hand; while if one of those bothering organs only stopped opposite the
window, he’d throw down his work, however much I might want it done, and
rushing into the area, pull out of his pocket the bits of broken plate
he always kept there, and putting them between his fingers, keep
rattling away two in each hand, accompanying the music, till he heard me
coming down after him, and then, of course he’d rush back again, and
pretend to be working as hard as he could,--though I knew very well that
directly my back was turned, the young Jackanapes would be putting his
fingers to his nose, and making grimaces at me. Indeed, I can assure the
courteous reader, that his antics were such, and he paid so little
respect to me, when he fancied I couldn’t see him, that upon my word I
was positively afraid to go out walking with him behind me (which was
one of the things in particular I had him for), for I felt convinced
that I should have him either coming after me walking on his hands, or
else throwing himself head over heels sideways along the pavement, or,
may be, running up and squaring away close at my back. As for the little
scamp’s giving one a stylish appearance, as I had been silly enough to
fancy he would, in answering the door, bless you! quite the
contrary,--for it was ten chances to one if the young monkey didn’t rush
up either with a wooden sword thrust through his breeches pocket, and a
brown paper cocked hat stuck on his head, or even, perhaps, with his
face blacked all over with burnt cork, and covered with large bits of
the red wafers I had for the black-beetles; while if, to give one an air
above the common, I made him carry the prayer-books for me to church, I
should be certain either to hear half-a-dozen of the young monkey’s
marbles roll all down the aisle in the very middle of the sermon, or
else, if I took the precaution of making him empty his pockets before he
went there, as sure as sure could be, he would go fast asleep, and
snore as I well knew _he_ alone could snore, and until I fancied every
eye in the church was fixed upon me.

Positively it was as much as one person could do to keep that shocking
scapegrace of a Wittals from going about in actual rags; and the whole
of my mornings used to be entirely taken up in repairing his dress
livery. Either I should have to try to fine-draw the knees of his
trousers, for the twentieth time--till they looked like the heels of a
pair of old stockings--or there’d be a piece as big as the palm of your
hand torn out at the foot where the strap buttons had been--or one of
the pocket-holes slit nearly down to his knees--or else the jacket would
have one of the cuffs half off--or one of the sleeves almost out--while
as for those beautiful three rows of sugar-loaf buttons, I declare
almost every other one was missing before the week was out, and even
they were sure to be with all the silver rubbed off of them, and as
coppery looking as the plated ornaments on the harness of a hackney
coach horse.

I never knew such a boy to wait at dinner. In the parlour, of course, he
was on his best behaviour, because he knew Mr. Sk--n--st--n was there,
(a deceitful young imp!); but only let him have to fetch up any dishes
from the kitchen, and there I knew he’d be, as plainly as if I saw him,
dipping his fingers in them, and sucking them again all the way up
stairs. If by any chance I had an open-work jam tart, bless you, to
table it would come with all the marks of the tips of his fingers in the
jam, till it looked exactly like the japanned tin boxes in a lawyer’s
office; or if it was a pie, there it would be, picked all round the
edges, as if rats had been gnawing it; and no matter how much pounded
lump sugar I had given out to sprinkle over the crust, when it came up
there wouldn’t be so much as a grain on the top of it. Indeed, I never
came near such a boy for sugar as that was; lump after lump would he
steal out of my poor dear little canary’s cage as fast as I put it in;
and once I recollect when my beautiful Kate had the red-gum so bad, and
I packed Wittals off for our medical adviser, telling him to make all
the haste he could or our doctor would have left to make his morning
visits, the young monkey was gone better than an hour, though the house
is only a stone’s throw from ours. This made me so wild, that directly I
heard his sneaking ring at the bell, I rushed to the door and seized
hold of him by both arms to give him a good shaking, when, bless me, if
he wasn’t as sticky all over as a lollypop, and when I examined him a
little more, I declare his clothes were all over molasses and brown
sugar from head to foot; and then it turned out that my young Turk had
been making one of a party of urchins inside an empty sugar-cask, and
that in my _dress livery_, too. His knees and his back were literally
caked all over with the nasty brown gluey stuff, and he had got it all
sticking round his mouth, and cheeks, and chin, till his face looked
like so much sand-paper.

Further than this, I do think he was the cruelest boy that could be met
with anywhere. Not only was he always amusing himself with poking bits
of stick through the wires of my little canary’s cage, and fluttering
it, until it had no more feathers on its body than a gosling, but he led
our dog Carlo such a life that I really expected he’d drive him mad
before he’d done with him. Either he’d be throwing the cat right on top
of his back, or else he’d turn his ears inside out and tie them over his
head; or else he’d harness him, out in the garden, to the beautiful
little carriage I had bought for Kitty, and then clapping his hands and
hooting, so as to frighten the poor thing, it would start off at such a
rate that it would nearly break the chaise all to pieces against the
wall. And if he could only smuggle the poor dumb creature out of the
house with him when I sent him an errand, off he’d be to that muddy
Regent’s Canal, and amuse himself by throwing the wretched animal right
off the bridge into the water, and presently I should see it running
home with all the mud that it had been rolling itself in on the way
clinging to his beautiful curly coat, for all the world as if he had
been covered over with fuller’s earth. Nothing would please him, too,
but he must go keeping white mice in the knife-house, making the place
smell as ratty as a house in chancery; and this wasn’t enough, but the
hard-hearted young savage must let all the wretched animals die of
starvation, and wouldn’t even take the trouble to give the poor things
their food for more than a week after he had got them.

What I disliked most in the chit was his wicked deceit; for before
Edward he was so meek and gentle that you would not have fancied that he
could have said “Boh!” to a goose, and of course his master hadn’t got
wit enough to see through the young Turk, but must be telling me,
whenever I ventured to let fall a hint as to any of his tricks directly
Edward was out of the house, that he never saw a better behaved lad in
all his life, saying that I could not expect to have the head of a
grey-beard on the shoulders of a hobbledehoy. And positively Mr.
Sk--n--st--n was so taken with the artful, double-faced little brat that
he must be continually giving him a penny now, and twopence then, as
much as to say that he didn’t believe a word of what I had told him, and
was trying to see how much he could encourage the imp in his goings on.
Instead of putting all these halfpence in a money-box and saving it for
his old age, the disgraceful young spendthrift put it in his money-box
and only saved it to buy a trumpery little wooden theatre, and got that
romantic Betsy to lend him some more to buy the whole of the scenes and
characters of “THE MILLER AND HIS MEN,” so that he might act it on the
kitchen dresser, while she sat in front, wasting her valuable time, as
the audience. Often and often, when Edward’s been detained at chambers
and I’ve been sitting alone by myself of a night waiting for him to come
home, have I been almost knocked off my seat and frightened out of my
wits, by hearing a report of firearms down in the kitchen, and,
wondering what on earth could have happened, have rushed down stairs and
found that it was only Master Wittals firing off his trumpery penny
cannon, to make Miss Betsy believe that the Mill was blown up. And there
I should find her clapping her hands, as the little pocket-handkerchief
of a curtain came down in front of the grand transparency in the last
scene, which the young monkey had got up without any regard to expense,
as they say, by greasing it all over with my butter.

When I came to turn it over in my mind, it seemed as if Fate did not
think it sufficient to scourge me with that dreadful novel-reading
plague of a Betsy, but must also go sending a still greater plague to
me, in the shape of Wittals, to drive me fairly out of my wits. Though,
now that I come to think of it, I can hardly say there was a pin to
choose between them; for there were six of one and half-a-dozen of the
other, and both far too many for me. I’m sure of an evening, sometimes,
I’ve nearly gone mad with the sound of that boy’s drawling voice,
reading some highly-exciting romance, for all the world as if he were a
parish clerk going over the two first lines of a psalm. There I could
hear him droning away for hours, with his

“Li--ar,--return--ed--the--aughty--Hearl--of--H--e
--i--Hi--d--e--l--del--b--e--r--g--berg--Heidelberg--
in--a--tone--of--suppress--ed--hire--dare--you--her--
p--a--r--par--her--par--a--her--par--a--m--o--u--r
--mowr--her--par--a--mowr--speak--thus.”

Upon my word, too, that stupid Betsy filled the poor boy’s head,
directly she heard he was a foundling, with such a lot of rubbish, about
his being a “Mysterious Horphan,” and making him pull up his
shirt-sleeves to see if he had any strawberry mark by which his
parentage might be discovered, and be acknowledged as the rightful heir
to his estates, that I could have given it her well, I could; for she
had the impudence to tell the poor boy that noble blood flowed in his
veins, and actually went to the length of asking me, whether I ever
_heerd_ tell of any peer of the realm whose family name might be
Wittals?

But what disgusted me with the woman more than anything else, was, that
she was so fond of the mischievous young imp, that in order to screen
him she would stand for hours, and tell me tarrididdles as long as my
arm, and which really used to make my blood all run cold to listen to.
And even if I had seen the young monkey break one of my windows through
his nasty cruel love of throwing stones at the poor sparrows, as he
always was, she’d even then have the face to stand me out that she did
it, though I always took good care to punish her well for it, by
stopping it out of her wages--which, considering Wittals had none to
stop it out of, I wasn’t at all sorry at being obliged by her obstinacy
to do.

Owing to that monkey of a Wittals going making a pig of himself inside
the sugar cask, my doctor never came round till near upon five o’clock
to see my poor little patient angel of a Kitty, who was suffering _so_
dreadfully with her nasty--nasty tiresome teeth; and the consequence
was, that my little cherub was so much worse, and in such a burning
high fever, that I declare she lay almost powerless in my arms, not
stirring a limb, with the lids half down over her eyes, as if she were
stupified with pain in her head. I never was so much alarmed in all my
life, and I kept bathing her temples with vinegar, and crying over her,
expecting that every minute she would be going into convulsions, and
that I should be having the cherub snatched from me.

When the doctor came, he lanced her gums and ordered her to be put in a
warm bath directly, and to have three leeches put upon each temple.
Betsy put the leeches on, for it made my flesh creep to see, let alone
to handle, the nasty slimy things, like the fingers of wet black kid
gloves; and, besides, I knew I should faint dead off directly I saw my
poppit’s vital stream trickling down her little cheeks. When the nasty
things were taken off my pet, that stupid Betsy came down to me to know
if I should like them kept. “Kept!” I cried; “bless the woman, no; go
and throw them over the garden, and let the fowls at the Simmondses have
them, for Heaven’s sake.” Of course what must she do but take them down
stairs first, just to let that young monkey of a Wittals catch sight of
them, and no sooner did he set eyes upon them, than he went to work and
wheedled my lady into letting him have the filthy things to keep in one
of my old pickle bottles in his bedroom--though from all I had said to
her about the crawling creatures, she very well knew that I wouldn’t
have them in the house for all that anybody could give me; for I can’t
say how it is, but I really had a presentiment at the time that if they
were not destroyed, something awful would happen. Nor was I wrong, and
all through that wicked, story-telling, perverse Betsy, and that
good-for-nothing, careless, menagerie-keeping young imp of a
Wittals--though, for the matter of that, he wasn’t half so much to blame
as she was.

My beautiful poor little lamb of a Kate, though much better, was still
so ill that I didn’t like to let her sleep with nurse; so I told Sarah
to put her in our bed. But the little dove was so restless all night
that I couldn’t get a wink of sleep, and had to be either sitting up in
the bed trying to rock her off to sleep, or else taking it in turns with
Edward to pace the room with her in my arms, and merely a shawl over my
shoulders. The consequence of this was, that the cold and cough which
had been hanging about me ever since I was wet through, were not at all
improved the next day. So in the morning, when Mr. Jupp, our medical
adviser, called to see my little trot, I asked him if he would be good
enough to send me round another box of the very nice cough lozenges
which he had in his shop, and which had already done me a world of good.

“Feed a cold and starve a fever,” says the old adage, and so I will,
said I; but as I didn’t see the fun of leaving it to Miss Betsy to
choose the very food that I was going to put into my mouth, I thought,
that since it was a nice fine warm day, if I wrapt myself up as close as
I could, and put my thick boots on with my cork socks in them, it
couldn’t possibly do me any harm just toddling round to our butcher’s,
to see what he had in his shop to tempt me. When I got there, I found to
my great delight that he had got two of as lovely-looking little lambs’
sweetbreads as it was ever my good fortune to see; and I was just going
to tell him to send them home when, as luck would have it, I turned
round and caught sight of a most beautiful picture of a round of beef,
all streaked with red and white like a barber’s pole; and when I thought
how deliciously it would eat stewed, with plenty of vegetables chopped
up, and a rich thick brown gravy--into which a glass of port wine had
been poured--I was torn to pieces between the two; and went and looked
first at the sweetbreads and then at the beef, for I didn’t know which I
should like best, and I told the butcher’s wife that I really couldn’t
tell what to do. At last she persuaded me to have the sweetbreads for
dinner that day, and the round on the morrow, especially, as she very
truly said, the beef would be all the better for keeping. So I had them
both, and ordering three quarters of a pound of beef steak for
Edward--which, with a batter pudding to follow, would do very well I
thought for our dinner that evening--galloped back home, as pleased as
Punch that I had stepped round to the butcher’s myself, little dreaming
of what was to be the fate of my beautiful round of beef after all.

The sweetbreads were _delicious!_ though that disagreeable monster of
an Edward, seeing I was ill, of course tried to spoil my dinner, by
declaring that his steaks were as tough and as stringy as corduroys. But
I soon silenced my gentleman, by telling him that at any rate I had got
a dinner for him on the morrow which was fit for the Emperor of China
himself to sit down to; though I had a good bit of fun by not telling
him _what_ it was; and keeping on tantalizing him till I made him guess
almost all through the cookery book, for, not being overfond of stewed
beef, of course he never dreamt it was that.

Next morning, I went down into the kitchen, at my usual hour, to see
about our dinner. To make sure that Miss Betsy had not been treating
herself and _that_ Wittals to a hot supper off my round of beef, as I
knew, from the savoury smell there used to be down stairs very often of
a night, she was in the habit of doing, though I had never been lucky
enough to catch her in the fact, I just stepped into the larder to see
that a slice hadn’t been taken off. At the first glance I caught of the
round, I thought it had a very strange look about it, for it seemed to
have lost the beautiful rich colour it had. So as our larder was rather
dark, I told Betsy to carry it into the kitchen, and put it on the
dresser. When I saw it fairly in the light, oh dear! oh dear! if it
wasn’t as white as parchment! “What on earth _have_ you been doing to
this meat, you good-for-nothing woman, you?” I exclaimed, drawing it
close to me; “and what, in the name of all that’s filthy, are these
black things?” I continued, just going to take hold of one of them, when
I saw it move, and then, goodness gracious, the truth burst upon me!
“Oh, you shameful, disobedient minx, if these are not the very leeches
that I told you to throw into Mr. Simmonds’s garden.” And when I came to
look well into the bleached round of beef, positively there were as many
as four of the filthy, slimy vampires, who, having sucked the thing
quite white, and till they were nearly as big as small black puddings,
were now hanging down the sides, for all the world like the tails on my
imitation ermine tippet. “Where have you put the other two?” I
exclaimed, in a most tremendous passion; “tell me this minute, or I’ll
have you up before a magistrate, for wilfully destroying my property, I
will.” This put my lady in such a fright that she wasn’t long in
pointing them out to me on the wash-hand-stand in Wittals’s room; and it
was lucky I found them as soon as I did, for their noses were just over
the rim of the bottle, and if I’d been a minute later, I should have had
them crawling about the house, and fastening upon the legs of goodness
knows who.

I caught hold of the bottle, and poking the things back into the water
with the end of the young urchin’s hair brush, I rushed with the whole
concern down to the end of the garden, and threw the voracious little
black monsters, bottle and all, right into the Simmondses’
garden--though, as it afterwards turned out, it would have been much
better if I had left them where I had found them--for no sooner did that
young monkey of a Wittals miss his darling leeches, and learn from Miss
Betsy what had become of them, than he must needs go clambering over the
wall, and, not content with bringing them back into the house again,
must go putting them into one of my empty lozenge boxes, and leaving it
on the dresser with the filthy things inside of it, while he went to get
another bottle to keep them in, as I afterwards found out, to my cost.

However, to come back to myself. Directly I returned to the kitchen,
after having thrown the black brutes over the wall, I turned round to
Miss Betsy, and said, “Throw that meat away, you nasty, perverse,
self-willed minx; I wont have such meat cooked in _my_ house, and if I
don’t make you pay for another piece for me out of your next quarter, I
hope I may never know the taste of a round of beef again--that’s all.”

Scarcely could I have been up stairs more than a quarter of an hour,
than it struck me, that not only would it be a sad pity to waste such a
beautiful piece of meat as that was when I saw it in the butcher’s shop,
but I had already threatened to stop so many things out of Miss Betsy’s
next quarter, that I felt convinced she could never pay for half of
them. So off I trotted down stairs again, and told Betsy that, as a
punishment, she and Wittals should have nothing else for their dinners
but that very round of beef, until it was all gone. Just as I was going
up stairs again, I happened to cast my eye on the dresser, and what
should I see but a lozenge-box; so, of course, fancying I must have
left it there when I was down before, I took it up, and putting it in my
pocket, returned to the parlour, little thinking that it was the very
one into which young Wittals had, not five minutes before, put his two
beastly pet leeches.

Upon my word, the chill I had taken had settled into such a dreadful
cold in the head, that really when I sat down to my work again in the
parlour, I couldn’t do a stitch of work for it; and though, thanks to
Mr. Jupp’s lozenges, my cough was much better, still my poor head was so
bad, that I couldn’t let my handkerchief remain quiet in my pocket for
two moments together;--and just after Betsy had taken the milk in for
tea, I was seized with a violent fit of sneezing, and I had no sooner
put my pocket handkerchief to my nose than I felt a sharp twinge at the
end of it, just as if some one was driving a needle right in between my
nostrils. When I snatched my handkerchief away, I was as certain as
possible that there was something heavy hanging at the end of it, for I
could not only feel it, but when I squinted down, I could see some dark
coloured thing dangling backwards and forwards; I rushed to the mirror,
to learn what on earth it could be--when, augh! if there wasn’t a long
black beast of a large leech sticking quite fast to my nasal organ, just
like the drop to a jet ear-ring. I gave a loud scream, and put up my
handkerchief to take hold of the reptile, when, oh, la! if another of
the nasty filthy brutes didn’t roll right out of it on to the rug.

No sooner did my poor dear Carlo, who was lying before the fire, see
something fall, than up he jumped, and began sniffing away at it, and
turning it over and over with his nose, until I declare if the reptile
didn’t fasten right upon it; and there he was scampering about the room,
with one of the brutes dangling to _his_ nasal organ as well, tossing
his head about, and growling away all the time like a mad thing; as for
pulling the one at the end of _mine_ off, positively it was a waste of
time to try; for really and truly, the creature clung as fast as a
barnacle, and besides being as slippery as an eel, was as elastic as
Indian rubber. Off I flew to the bell, and pulled it hard enough to have
pulled it down, all the time shaking my head away, in the hopes that I
should be able to jerk the creature off, before that snail of a Betsy
came with the salt--which, however, was the only means of getting rid
of it--and which I’m sure she was ten minutes, if she was a second, in
bringing to me.

As soon as the leech was off, I turned round upon Miss Betsy, and
showing her the little star that the long black ogre had made at the end
of my nose, (which really was as white as a parsnip too,) I told her to
look _there_, and see how her wickedness had marked me to my dying day,
(and sure enough I’ve got the scar now,) and then ask herself if she
thought it was likely that I was going to keep her in my establishment
another moment after such treatment as that. However, there was one
thing that I could tell her, and that was, that I wasn’t--so I very
civilly told her to go and pack up her trumpery things and rubbishing
romances, and be out of the house before half-an-hour was over her head;
and so, thank goodness gracious, the stupid, sentimental, novel-reading,
leech-preserving hussy was.

As for that Master Wittals, I told Edward that either he or I must leave
the house. And as I knew Mr. Sk--n--st--n wanted a sharp active lad in
his office, and Wittals was sharp and active enough, Heaven knows, why,
I made Edward take him down to L--nc--ln’s Inn, the very following
morning, where he could try and see if he could manage the wild young
colt.

Now, thank goodness, it is Miss Sarah’s turn!

Though I had her in the house while Betsy and Wittals were there, still,
as I kept her closely locked up in the nursery, of course I thought
there was no fear of her being spoilt by the other two. But, bless you,
she didn’t want any _spoiling_, for I do think I never came near such an
artful, deceitful, prudish, straight-laced vixen as that girl was. At
first, I thought she was a pattern of virtue and affection, and that she
loved children as much as she led me to believe she hated the men. My
little Kate was nothing more nor less than “an angel dropped down from
the skies, it was”--according to her; and it was always, “such a shame
not to let it have what it wanted, a dear,”--with her nasty double-faced
“bless its dear little heart!” and “love its sweet little eyes!” to my
face; and then, how she would beat it, and pinch it, and shake it,
behind my back--oh my! She would never marry, she wouldn’t, oh no! the
men were such nasty selfish things, to her thinking, that she couldn’t
bear the sight of them--not she; and all the while she would be lolling,
nearly the whole of the day, half way out of the window, ogling and
grinning at every whipper-snapper of a fellow that came within leer of
the place. But if I had thought for a moment, I might have known that it
would be the case. Any one would have fancied, I dare say, that I was
sick and tired of pretty maids, after the way in which Miss Susan went
on. But what was I to do? Either I must have my little cherub catching
the expression of some common-looking servant girl, or else, if I had a
decent-looking maid, with a pleasant face of her own for the little
chick to look at, then I must be plagued to death by a pack of idle
vagabonds of young men, always dancing at her heels wherever she went,
and the girl looking after them instead of my little lamb. Then I used
to send her out, like a stupid, into the Regent’s Park, for what I
fancied was an airing for the child. Pretty airing, indeed! But more of
this hereafter.

Well, one day, just after the new cook came in, I had packed off Miss
Innocence with my darling poppit, in her little carriage, for a nice
hour’s ride in the park. And as I watched little Kate down the street, I
thought she did look _so_ nice with her beautiful white feather coming
over her straw hat, and her neat little green silk pelisse, which I had
made on purpose for the little darling out of my old scarf,--and when I
saw Sarah making the little dear shake its little, fat, tiny hand to me
across the road, I couldn’t help saying to myself, “Well, I’m glad the
girl’s fond of it, as I do think I should have fretted my life out, if I
fancied that a servant of mine ill-treated or neglected any of my little
ones.”

Kitty’s little dinner had been ready more than half-an-hour, and yet
there were no signs of Sarah’s return with the pet, so I felt sure that
either she had mistaken the time, or else--as it was a very fine
day--had gone for a little longer walk than usual; and then, as I
thought a mouthful of fresh air wouldn’t hurt me, and it was such
charming weather, I ran up stairs and slipt on my bonnet and scarf, and
determined on going and meeting them as they came home. “Ah!” I said to
myself, while I was putting on my things, “now if that child had been
out with any other person than a steady girl like Sarah, I should have
been very much alarmed. And isn’t it much cheaper, now, to give a pound
or two extra wages, and feel assured that wherever your child might go,
and however long she might be away from you, she is, at least, out of
harm’s way, and couldn’t be in better hands even if she were at home.”

So off I went, consoling myself in this way, and thinking what a dinner
the little poppit would make after being out in the air so long. As I
knew Sarah in general promenaded up and down the broad walk, because, in
the first place, there were no horses and carriages there; and,
secondly, the keepers always take care to protect a poor lone woman from
insult, as she said; as I knew that I should be sure to find her there,
I made the best of my way towards that quarter. Just as I had got about
half way down, I thought I saw some one very like her coming up the path
towards me; but when I looked again, I was satisfied it couldn’t be
Sarah, for there was a young man with her, who was continually poking
his head under her bonnet, and looking up in her face. And yet, when the
young woman came nearer, I knew it was my maid, by the carriage and my
little Kitty’s bonnet and feather. I felt convinced that the poor girl
was making the best of her way towards the keeper, to avoid the young
man’s persecutions, and I stood still, expecting every minute to see her
give the monkey in charge. But when I beheld my lady march right past
the man in the green livery, and, indeed, with her head turned the other
way, I couldn’t help saying to myself--“Well, now, there’s deceit for
you! Oh! you hate the men, do you?” And scarcely had I said it, when a
great Newfoundland dog came tearing behind the carriage, and turned it
right over on its side; and though my little pet began screaming away,
still my lady was so wrapt up in the nonsense the fellow was stuffing
into her head, that, bless you! she no more heard the screams of my
darling than she seemed to be aware the carriage was upset; for on she
went, flirting away, casting die-away looks at the fellow, and tapping
his hand with her trumpery parasol, as much as to say--“Go along with
you, do, you naughty, naughty man,” while she kept dragging the carriage
after her, flat on its side, as it

[Illustration: “_Out for an airing._”]

was, and my little beauty, all along the gravel, as if it had been a
garden-roller. Directly I saw the chaise upset, I ran towards the minx
as fast as my legs would carry me; but even then I couldn’t reach her in
time enough to save my pretty cherub; and when I got up to it--oh, dear
me! if its sweet little face wasn’t scored all over like crackling, and
the gravel sticking into her cheeks for all the world like a bit of
asphalte pavement.

I could have looked over this misfortune, (although, if the courteous
reader will believe me, my little Kate has got some of the grits in her
cheeks to this very day, and you can feel the gravel under the skin,
like the stones in currants,) but it was the woman’s nasty, wicked
deceit, in making me believe that she hated the very sight of a man,
that set me against her. But I put a stop to those walks in the Park
pretty soon. No wonder she was so anxious to take the child out to do it
good--a toad!

What made me not like to part with her, however, was, that she seemed so
head over ears in love with my little beauty, that I felt quite an
interest in the woman, and was stupid enough to believe, that if I could
only keep her away from that bothering Regent’s Park, and the lawyers’
clerks out of place, that are always lolloping about on the seats there,
she would go on very well. Still, notwithstanding all the affection she
made such a show of towards my little life, Edward and I used to remark
that the child was always crying when it was up in the nursery; and when
we asked her what was the reason of it all, leave her alone for having
some taradiddle always ready at the tip of her tongue, by way of answer.
Oh! then it was either the little love was fretting after its dear
mamma, or else its poor teeth were wherreting its poor soul out, and the
little Goody Two Shoes was ready to tear its little mouth to pieces, it
was! (Was there ever such a double-faced crocodile?) But the mystery was
soon cleared up; for one fine morning, a nice old silver-haired
gentleman knocked at the door a few minutes after my lady had come in
with my pet from its airing, (which had done it _so_ much good, that it
had got _such_ an appetite for its little dinner, I couldn’t tell!) and,
like a good old soul, said he had called to tell me that he had seen
that Miss Sarah of mine (who was _so_ fond of my Kate that she could
eat her!) ill-treating the poor little dear so shamefully in the open
streets, that he couldn’t help following her home, and informing me of
it. Directly the dear old gentleman had gone, I had my little cherub
down, and, stripping it, lo! and behold, if the little dear’s white skin
wasn’t dappled all over black and blue, with the pinches _that_
deceitful, hard-hearted nurse of mine had given it, till positively it
had more the appearance of a little iron grey pony than a human being!
Oh! how my fingers _did_ itch to be about the creature!

So I got rid of that deceitful bit of goods very soon, I can assure you;
and so, indeed, I did of a number of others after her; for, upon my
word, they are all alike, whether they are cooks, or housemaids, or
nurserymaids, or pages, or footmen, it’s the same story over and over
again--worry, worry--bother, bother--from morning till night, and not a
moment’s peace to be had for love or money. A maid-of-all-work was quite
a match for me; but, when we got on in the world, so as to be able to
afford a footman--Lord bless me! I was positively mad from the moment I
got up to the moment I went to bed again. Now, there was that lazy,
impudent, fat footman of a Duffy. I’m sure he was--but my courteous
readers must excuse me entering into particulars at present. They will
be able to judge of the character my gentleman was from Mr. Cruikshank’s
admirable plate. But it wasn’t only the laziness and cool impudence of
the fat pig that pleased me, but he had a nasty way of--but I’m sorry to
say I must reserve it all for another chapter.




CHAPTER XV.

     WHICH PRINCIPALLY CONSISTS OF A QUIET HALF HOUR’S TALK ABOUT THE
     VIRTUES AND AIRS OF THAT GREAT, BIG, FAT, OVERFED, STUCK-UP PIG OF
     A JOHN DUFFY OF MINE, WHO WAS THE FIRST FOOTMAN I HAD IN MY
     SERVICE, AND WHO COULDN’T HAVE BEEN IN THE HOUSE MORE THAN A WEEK,
     I’M SURE, BEFORE (LUD-A-MERCY ME!) IF I DIDN’T DRAT THE DAY WHEN I
     FIRST SET EYES ON HIM; FOR I DECLARE THE PUPPY HAD SUCH AN IMPUDENT
     LOOK WITH HIM, THAT I NEVER SAW HIS FACE BUT I DIDN’T LONG FOR THE
     TIME WHEN I SHOULD SEE HIS BACK. HE _was_ A PRETTY FOOTMAN, TO BE
     SURE.

    “And a very saucy one,
                          Heigh ho! Heigh ho!
    He walk’d so stiff, and look’d so smart,
    As if he own’d each maiden’s heart;
    I could have bang’d him, for my part,
                          Heigh ho! Heigh ho!”

     POPULAR SONG--_though, in justice to the writer, I ought to add,
     that I have taken the liberty of adapting the last line of the
     highly talented poem to my highly excited feelings; for as John
     Duffy never had any_ “KEEN DART” _of_ “HIS OWN,” _of course I
     couldn’t go_ “WISHING” _with the poet, that the monkey_ “FELT” _any
     such fiddlesticks; though I must confess, that when I’ve seen that
     man crawling up stairs, as lazily as if he were a black beetle, I
     have over and over again_ “WISHED” _to myself I only had my great
     big shawl-pin handy, so that I could have made him_ FEEL THAT.

    “Gramachree ma Crooskeen, slantha gal mavourneen,
    Gramachree ma Crooskeen, Lawn, Lawn, Lawn;
    Gramachree ma Crooskeen, slantha gal mavourneen,
    Arrah cumaleen ma u leen bawn, bawn, bawn,
    Arrah cumaleen ma u leen bawn.”

     _Who on earth can ever have written this gibberish I don’t know,
     and what the goodness gracious it can ever mean, is more than I can
     say. But this I do know and can say--to my humble ears it sounds as
     much like abuse as anything I ever heard in all my life; and that’s
     just what I want to apply to that good-for-nothing John Duffy.
     Augh, “Lawn! Lawn! Lawn!”_



Of course, when I had once risen to the dignity of having a male
domestic in my establishment, I wasn’t going to make such a great silly
of myself, as to come down again to the wretchedness of having nothing
but a pack of females about one. Accordingly, I gave “my lord and
master” (as Mr. Edward flatters himself he is) to understand as much in
double-quick time. A fine thing, indeed, I said, it would be, to have
all one’s good-natured friends, and all one’s precious charitable
neighbours, (who every one knows are always sure to love one as
themselves--oh yes!) pointing at one, and sneering away behind one’s
back whenever one went out, with their “Oh, dear me! only to think that
the _poor_ Sk--n--st--ns couldn’t afford to keep on that grand page they
started, for more than _one_ quarter of a year;” and with their nasty,
double-faced “pity from the bottom of their hearts, because they were
_afraid_ we had been all along living beyond our means.”

But Mr. Edward was too great a philosopher by half to care a snap of the
fingers for the opinion of the empty world or the feelings of his poor
dear wife, of course--especially when it would cost him a trumpery
five-and-twenty pounds, and a rubbishing suit or two of livery, per
annum. Consequently, when I told him one evening, after I had treated
him to a nice sweet little dinner of a leg of mutton, stuffed with sage
and onions--pork-fashion--and a love of a bread-pudding to follow--(I
always make it a rule to use up all the bits of bread in the house, at
least once a week--unless indeed we have any illness in the family, and
they are wanted for poultices--for, as I believe I said before
somewhere, I can’t bear to see waste,)--Well, when I told Mr. Edward, I
repeat, after we had both I’m sure eaten more than was good for
us--(only I do think sage and onions _so_ delicious when one is not
going to see company, and one can only get one’s husband just to take a
mouthful or so of it; and then, ’pon my word, I verily believe, I could
devour my own dear mother, if she was only stuffed with plenty of it,
and nicely browned)--Well, when I told Mr. Edward--I repeat for the
second time--just after we had finished every bit of that love of a
bread-pudding (though the worst of it was, I, unfortunately, would go
putting too much bread in it, like a great big generous stupid as I am,
and, bother take it! the spongy stuff does swell so in the cooking, and
then is sure to set to work and soak up all your custard in such a way,
that ’pon my word and honour, when the love came to table, if it wasn’t
like so much sop, and, positively, I’d have bet any one anything there
wasn’t enough custard left in the whole dish to fill a sixpenny
“Circassian Cream” pot--and that’s small enough, goodness knows! so that
really and truly it looked so uninviting when I came to help it, that it
was hardly fit to give to one’s parrot, or even to let the servants
have, by way of a treat.)--But to return: well, when I told Mr.
Edward--I repeat for the third time--(for plague take that dinner, I
_cannot_ get it out of my head)--that I had been considering for a long
time whether it would be prudent in us to think about having another of
those impudent young monkeys of pages in our house, when, for the matter
of a few rubbishing pounds extra a year, we could get a nice, steady,
handsome, respectable-looking man-servant, whose livery, I was sure,
wouldn’t come, in the long run, to one penny more, if so much as that
disgraceful young scape-grace of a Wittals’s did--for there’d be no
silver sugar-loaf buttons continually to find, and they, with those
bothering boys in livery, cost a small fortune alone, I knew.

Besides, I said--just to put Edward in a good temper--a man of _his_
naturally strong judgment must be well aware that a great big strapping
boy, who hadn’t done growing, and kept running up so fast that he
required to have at least two tucks let out of his trowsers every
quarter, must eat more than a decent, well-behaved, abstemious young man
who had got to his proper size, and who consequently wouldn’t be always
getting a head taller per annum out of your mutton and beef. And
moreover, I added, going to the sofa and kissing him, as I saw him
smile, with what at the time I foolishly supposed to be good
humour,--“It will, you know, my dear, look so highly genteel, and give
one such a standing in the world, to have one’s door opened by a fine
good-looking fellow, with powdered hair and a pair of handsome legs, and
near upon six feet in his shoes.” But, oh dear bless me, no! Mr. Edward
wouldn’t listen to such _stuff_, as he called it; and must needs go
bursting into a contemptuous laugh, telling me to go along with me, for
I was an old fool, and ought to have more sense in my head at my time of
life, (_my_ time of life, indeed! Well, that is good! Isn’t it, gentle
reader?)

Of course it was the old story over and over again. He wasn’t going to
bring himself to the workhouse, he wasn’t, for any of my fine fal-lal
notions. As for his having a great, fat, lazy footman, sauntering about
his house, and eating the very bed from under him, he wouldn’t think of
it for a moment; for the long and short of it was, _he couldn’t afford
it_, especially with the few suits that he had then down on his
‘Chancery Cause Book;’ and the world seemed to have come to such a pass
now-a-days, that relations and partners _would_ settle all their
disputes amicably. So I merely told him, that, of course, I couldn’t say
whether his trumpery Chancery Cause-Book would allow him to afford me a
rubbishing footman or not; but this I _could_ and I _would_ say, that
unless something was done, he’d have to afford, somehow or other, to pay
for my funeral expenses before long--though, perhaps, I added, with my
usual biting sarcasm, _that_ would be far more agreeable to him. Then,
bursting into tears, I went on saying, “If some change does not take
place, I can only tell you, sir, I shall fall a martyr to your meanness
and this great big house; for I feel myself sinking every day under the
weight of it; and Doctor J--pp himself has, over and over again, said,
when he has called and found me here nearly fainting with fatigue, ‘Why,
my dear madam, will we over-exert ourselves in this way. Really, we are
too attentive and good a housewife. We are not fit for it--positively,
we are not. Now, we ought to be in bed in our present state--indeed, we
ought--instead of being up here, ruining our naturally fine constitution
in this way. Mr. Sk--n--st--n, I’m sure, cannot be aware of what we are
doing, or he would never allow us, if he had one spark of feeling, to be
killing ourselves by inches in this way. Really, my dear, good, lady, it
comes to this--either we must get extra help, and eat little and good,
and often, or depend upon it we shall be in our graves before many
months are over our heads. Would you like us to speak to our good worthy
husband on the subject, for I am sure he would gladly make any
sacrifice, rather than let us endanger our precious life thus?” And
what reply did I make to my medical attendant? I asked Edward, with an
indignant look--why, I merely said, “No, Dr. J--pp, my own dear Edward
will tell you that he cannot afford it; and if so, perhaps my funeral
expenses will fall less heavily upon him than having an extra servant in
the house.”

After I had said this, I sank in a chair, and burying my face in a sweet
pretty cambric handkerchief, with a very rich imitation Valenciennes
border, I waited, sobbing as if my heart would break, to see whether he
would let me have my footman or not; and expecting, of course, that
every minute he would be coming up and kissing me, and telling me that
he would gladly do anything I liked to make his own sweet angel of a
Carry happy and comfortable.

But, drat the cold-hearted, ill-natured hyena, he only burst out
giggling in a most insulting way, and said, in his nasty, unmeaning
slang, “it wouldn’t _do_, and that he wasn’t quite such a fool as I
seemed to take him for.” So I jumped up in a jiffey, and said with great
point, and looking penknives at him, “I see what it is, sir; the sage
and onions have disagreed with you, and of course you’re disgusted with
the whole world, and your poor dear wife must suffer for it,”--and then,
banging the door to with all my might, I walked quietly up to our
bedroom, determined to read my lord duke a strong lesson, and just let
him see that I wasn’t a worm.

“That footman I’ll have, if I die for it,” I exclaimed, as I jumped into
bed, and turned my back round to the side Mr. Sk--n--st--n usually
sleeps upon.

Next day I caught my gentleman out so nicely, the reader don’t know; and
I led him such a dance the reader can’t tell. Well, the fact is, I
didn’t feel quite myself, so I thought I might as well, as it was a very
fine morning, pop on my beautiful white lace bonnet and my sweet
imitation Shetland shawl, (they had only just come in then, though drat
it! they, have got as vulgar as vulgar can be lately, and what I’m to do
with mine I really don’t know, for, like a ninny, I thought it too good
to wear every day, at first; however, as I wouldn’t be seen in it now
for the whole world, perhaps I’d better make a great favour of it, and
give it to my own dear mother).--Well, as I was saying, I strolled very
comfortably down to Regent-street, just to take a passing glance at
some of the lovely new dresses in the shops, that I should like to buy
if I could only afford the money; and as it was, I was as near as two
pins going in and getting two or three of the most expensive, and
sending the bill in to Mr. Edward, just as a lesson to him for the
future--but the worst of it is, I’ve always been too considerate for him
by half, and he is _so_ violent at times. So I went strolling on until,
I declare, if I wasn’t right at the bottom of Waterloo-place before I
knew where I was, and felt myself so warm and faint for want of
something, that I said to myself, I may as well, now I’m here, just step
on to Farrance’s and treat myself to a lemon ice or so out of the
housekeeping; for, as I very truly observed, it would be a hard matter
if I couldn’t get a trifle like _that_ out of the weekly expenses at
home; and besides Mr. Edward need be none the wiser, for nothing was
easier than to put it down in the book under the head of “_Charities_;”
and really, when I came to think of it, I positively blushed to remember
that for weeks and weeks past I hadn’t put down so much as a farthing
for that noblest of all the nine virtues.

Well, when I got to Farrance’s, who should the first person that I clapt
eyes upon be, but my Mr. Edward himself, seated like a prince at one of
the little marble tables, with two large sixpenny oyster patties before
him, gormandizing away like a pig, as he is. So I crept up to him, and,
_pretending I had seen him through the window_, I said, in a low voice,
“So you are going to the workhouse, are you, my fine gentleman. Pretty
workhouse, indeed! I never saw such a workhouse. And you can’t afford to
have a footman to eat the very bed from under you, can’t you? Of course
you can’t, if you come here every day, as now I plainly see you do,
stuffing yourself with oyster patties, and such like indigestible
extravagances, when I’m sure a round or two of cold toast, nicely done
up in an old newspaper, would do very well for your luncheon, sir, and
then there would be no occasion for your poor, dear, overworked wife to
go slaving her life out to save you the expense of another servant, as
you know she does. Augh! I can’t bear such gluttony.--Here, waitress,” I
exclaimed, “bring me a lemon ice and a Bath bun or two, with a few
almond cakes, if you please.” And then I went on, scolding him for his
disgusting greediness, and eating by turns, until, I declare, when the
time came for that selfish pig of an Edward to pay, and the young woman
at the counter asked me what I had had, if I hadn’t to tell her that I
had taken two lemon waters, and three of those, (pointing to the Bath
buns;) and two of those, (pointing to the raspberry puffs;) and two more
of those, (pointing to the gooseberry tarts;) and, let me see--yes, I
think, either three or four of those, (pointing to the almond
cakes,)--though, between ourselves, I was certain I had eaten at least
six of the hollow delicious things, for I’m very fond of them; but, of
course, all pastry cooks know very well that ladies never can, or, at
least, never will tell them exactly to a paltry penny cake or two what
they have had, and, the people in the shop take good care to increase
the price of their articles accordingly.

When that precious beauty of a Mr. Edward came home that evening, I
wasn’t going to be such a stupid as to let the capital discovery I had
made drop in a minute; so all dinnertime I went on apologizing that I
had got none of the _oyster patties_ for him, which he seemed so partial
to; and asking him whether they allowed such delicacies in the
_workhouse_ he was going to in such a hurry, and saying a whole troop of
other nice tantalizing, knagging things, until I made him so wild, that
he went on in such a way, and said such unwarrantable things to me, and
kept on vowing that I should _not_ have the footman I wanted, in such a
frightful manner, that at last bang went the door to again, and up
stairs I bounced to bed, saying, “I’ll soon let you see whether I’ll
have the footman or not, my fine Turk; for if I’m not as ill as ill can
be, until I have a man-servant safe in the house, why my name’s not
Sk--n--st--n.”

All that night through I had the spasms so bad, that I took good care
Mr. Edward didn’t have a wink of sleep; and next morning, just as he was
shaving himself, and promising, that if I wanted an extra servant, I
might have a parlour-maid (like his impudence, indeed!) I had such a
violent attack of hysterics, that any one, to have heard my screams,
(and I’m sure they must have been audible at least a hundred villas
off,) would have thought that Mr. Sk--n--st--n was ill-treating me. Just
before he went down stairs, I called him to the bedside, and told him I
was convinced I had got violent Neuralgia--brought on by my
over-exertions about the house, and most likely I should never entirely
get rid of it to my dying day. “Do you feel in pain, then, my love?” he
said. “Where is it? Tell me, my duck.” “Of course I did,” I answered;
and throwing up the whites of my eyes, and biting my lip, as if in great
agony, I begged him, “Not to duck me, as he was the cause of it all, and
that he might thank his stars that his ill-treatment hadn’t so
completely shattered my nerves as to have brought on St. Vitus’s
dance,”--and so it certainly would, only, to tell the reader the truth,
I didn’t know the step of that most frightful of all dances; and I
recollect when my aunt R--msb--tt--m had it very severely, it seemed to
me much more difficult to manage than the double-shuffle in the College
Hornpipe, so that as for keeping _that_ up all about the house for a
whole week, why it was more than I chose to do.

As the reader may well imagine, I had our medical adviser round pretty
soon, for I knew Mr. Edward hated doctors’ bills, and Mr. J--pp would be
sure to agree with me, it was Neuralgia, as your doctors always say it
is that, when they can’t exactly make out what it is that ails a lady.
So when he came round, he told Edward great care must be taken of me,
and I was to be kept quite quiet, and free from all annoyance, as I was
suffering from as severe an attack of the nerves as he ever recollected
to have met with in the whole course of his extensive practice, adding,
that it wasn’t to be wondered at, as it was very prevalent among the
ladies of the nobility and gentry just then; and that, indeed, he was
attending several persons of quality at that time for the very same
thing. After this, he sent me round some very nice sweet draughts, and
some of the most delicious tinctures I think I ever tasted in the whole
course of my life, which used to make me feel so beautiful and “tippy”
afterwards, my lady readers can’t tell.

All that week I had my breakfast in bed, and what made me enjoy it more
than anything else was, I knew Mr. Edward hated to pour out his own tea,
and butter his own toast of a morning, because it interfered with his
filthy newspaper. Only the worst of breakfasting in bed is, that bother
take it! the crumbs will get all over the sheets, and if one happens to
have dry toast, they are so hard, and do scrub a poor body so, that
really one might just as well lie upon sand-paper for the comfort of
the thing; and drat it, do what you will, you can’t get them out of the
bed again, until the things are taken off and well shaken.

When I went down stairs, after the fourth day, I laid myself upon the
sofa, and was too ill to eat a thing; though Mr. Edward would come to my
side, and beg and pray of me just to take a mouthful for his sake. But
no! I told him, with a sigh, I was too weak to take anything beyond a
cup of tea and a little dry toast (for, of course, after the couple of
good large mutton chops that I took good care to have in the middle of
the day, I hadn’t much of an appetite left for dinner, especially as I
wouldn’t let my gentleman have any thing particularly nice--saying to
myself, “If we can’t afford a footman--I’m sure we can’t afford
dainties!”)

And so I went on with my severe attack of Neuralgia, getting worse and
worse, and making my grand Turk breakfast by himself, and dine by
himself--and get out of bed at all hours of the night to give me my
delicious tinctures, and never even condescending to speak to him,
unless it was to tell him, with a sigh, how ill and weak I felt,--and
that I knew it was all owing to my over-exertions about the great big
house,--and continually reminding him too that he had only himself to
blame for it, as I had given him fair warning of what would be the
consequence of his unfeeling meanness,--and then asking him quietly
whether it wasn’t better now to pay the money for a footman, instead of
seeing his poor, dear, fond, foolish wife suffering so acutely as she
was, and having to pay, at least, double or treble as much in those
horrid doctor’s bills for her,--and so I went on, I say, until, upon my
word, one Monday evening (for I remember Mr. Edward had the boiled
knuckle of veal cold for dinner which I’d given him hot on the Sunday),
I was lying on the sofa groaning away, and my gentleman was seated by me
after dinner, looking quite repentant, and asking me whether I thought
Mr. J--pp was doing me good, and a whole troup of other civil things,
when I said--with a sigh that seemed to cut him to the quick, thank
goodness!--“It’s too late now, Edward _dear_; I told you I was sinking
fast, but you wouldn’t believe it then, and now I feel satisfied that I
sha’n’t trouble you with my presence here much longer.” “For Heaven’s
sake! Carry, my love, don’t go on in that way!” he exclaimed, pressing
my hand between his two palms. “Is there anything I can get for you,
dearest?” “That footman I spoke to you about,” I replied, “perhaps might
have relieved me at one time; but now”--I added, as if in pain, “there
is no hope. You will be kind to my little darling toodle-loodle-lumpty,
when its poor dear mother’s no more, and take care when the little trot
grows up that _she’s_ not killed in this great big house for want of a
footman.” Here that Edward gave two or three pathetic snivels, and
commenced feeling for his pocket-handkerchief. So as I saw he was
beginning to melt, I continued, in a low, solemn voice, “When I am gone,
promise me, Edward--you wont marry again--and you will put upon my
tombstone that I was a ‘TENDER AND AFFECTIONATE WIFE,’ and ‘UNIVERSALLY
REGRETTED’--and now I come to think of it, Edward dear, it would look
charming if you were to add those beautiful lines of ‘_Affliction sore
long time I bore_,’ and wind up with ‘_she fell a martyr to the want of
a footman_,’ brought in nicely somehow.” This, I’m proud to say, was a
severe homethrust; and on looking at my fine gentleman, if I didn’t see
a beautiful little tear in the corner of each of his eyes; and thank
goodness, by staring as hard as ever I could at one of the roses in the
carpet, and drawing the air in up my nose, I was lucky enough to squeeze
out two or three tears myself--so that at last I worked upon the
hard-hearted monster’s feelings in such a way, that he turned round and
told me if I thought a footman would be any relief to me, for goodness
sake to get one, only I was not to give way to low spirits as I did. But
I merely answered, “No, thank you, dearest, dearest Edward; you must not
go to any expense to please me in my last moments--_you cannot afford
it_.” “Do not say so, dear Carry,” he answered, “you must and shall have
one!” “No, no,” I replied, groaning as if in severe agony; “_you cannot
afford it_, and I will not listen to it.” “What!--not to please your own
Edward, my lamb,” he said, in a low voice, putting his lips close to my
ear. “To please her own Edward,” I returned, with affection, “his lamb
will do anything;” and then throwing my arms round his neck, I put an
end to that awkward business.

“Ha, ha! Mr. Edward, my fine gentleman,” I couldn’t for the life of me
help exclaiming to myself, whilst I was kissing him, “I said I’d have a
footman, if I died for it, and a footman I’ve got, and the best of it
is, too, I’ve made a favour of accepting what I wanted--and what is so
delightful to a poor dear married lady as that?”

I was getting well as quick as ever I decently could, when I was nearly
thrown back; and I really thought I should be obliged to have a relapse.
The fact is, we had a nasty tiff about the livery; for, upon my word, if
Mr. Edward was not for putting the fellow into plain clothes--a likely
thing! I said, and perhaps have him mistaken for some of my relations.
But I pretty soon gave my gentleman to understand that I would have
nothing short of a livery in my house; when, of course, off he went,
talking some more of his highflown radical slang about liveries being
“low things,” and “badges of servitude.” Badges of servitude, indeed! as
if I did not know they were, long ago; and, to confess the truth, that
was just the very reason--as I told him--why I stood out for one. Did he
for one moment fancy that I was such a great big silly as to go to the
expense of a man-servant to have him going in and out of my house,
looking as disreputable as a country curate. For my part, I said,
nothing would please me better--if it was only the fashion--than to put
a beautiful brass collar round his neck, with our name and address
nicely engraved on it, so that he might go about like a Newfoundland
dog, and people know whose property he was. So I begged I might hear no
more of such fal-lal nonsense; and that, if he did not wish to make me
ill again, he would drop the subject without saying another word about
it.

Well, I suppose, if I saw one, I saw a hundred great, big, hulking
fellows, who came after my situation, and who were so grand, that, bless
us and save us! one would have fancied that they had been brought up as
clerks in some government office, and had been in the habit of receiving
large salaries for doing nothing all their lives. Out of the bunch, I
picked that John Duffy--drat him!--for he was the best, to my way of
thinking. When he applied for the place, he was a nice, decent,
genteel-looking body, of rather a slim figure than otherwise, and he
seemed so willing--assuring me that he was ready to make
himself generally useful, (all of which I can now very well
understand--especially the thinness--for he had been six months out of a
situation.)

The livery I had made for that dirty Duffy was one of the sweetest
things when it was new, certainly. Every article of the entire suit was
of a different colour. I ordered the tailor to make me a love of a white
coat, and a pet of a canary waistcoat, and a perfect duck of a pair of
bright crimson plush knee what-d’ye-call-’ems--the name of the things
escapes me just at the present moment. Mr. Edward, in his nasty,
perverse way, would have it that Duffy would look more like a Macaw in
such fine feathers than a Christian; but I soon put a stop to his
sneers, for I asked him pretty plainly, what the dickens that was to me?
Of course I wanted all the world to know that I had got a footman, and
as I didn’t see anything to be ashamed of in it, I took good care to
publish it as conspicuously, and in as many colours, as a Vauxhall
posting-bill.

But it seemed as if Fate had put me down in her black books, for really
and truly that John Duffy couldn’t have been in the house above a month,
before he got _so_ gross and _so_ fat, and did make flesh _so_ fast,
that I’m sure it would have required nothing short of a suit of
vulcanized india-rubber to have kept pace with him. As for asking him to
pick up anything, bless you! I no more dared to do it than--than I don’t
know what; for as sure as the porpoise stooped for anything, bang! would
go either the strings of his waistcoat or else crack! would fly all the
beautiful silver buttons off the knees of his--a--of his thing-me-jigs,
(dear me, I shall forget my own name next.) When that monkey of a
Wittals was with me, he nearly drove me out of my mind by growing
upwards, but that pig of a Duffy fairly sent me stark staring mad, by
growing sideways--drat him! Wittals, to have looked any way decent,
wanted trousers made to pull out like telescopes; but that abominable
Duffy, in order to have been kept merely respectable, must have had a
coat and waistcoat made to expand like an accordion. If Wittals’s
mulberry pantaloons required a tuck to be let out at the bottom at least
once a month, I’m sure that Duffy’s canary vest needed another gore to
be let in at the back quite as often. Really, the sixth week after the
great whale had been in my kitchen, if he hadn’t grown nearly five
waistcoat buttons stouter upon the good things out of my larder, and,
before two months were over my head, if I hadn’t to put in behind a
great wedge of shalloon--in the shape of a large sippet, to get it to
meet anyhow. The way in which the man’s chin, too, kept on increasing
was positively frightful for a thrifty housewife to behold. Chin upon
chin, did I see grow under my very eyes, until at last they bulged out
over his neckcloth, for all the world like half a mellon. And no wonder!
for the quantity that man would eat was positively as if he was going
into training for an apoplexy; and it wasn’t quantity alone he wanted,
but, bless me! quality as well! As for cold meat, over and over again,
have I seen him trying to turn his nose up at it; but, unfortunately for
him, it was a snub, and do what he would, he couldn’t turn it up any
higher. But, though Mr. Duffy objected to cold meat for dinner, yet he
could manage to make away with a pound or two of it for his breakfast
and supper. And, mercy-on-me! even the common household bread wasn’t
good enough for his royal highness’s delicate stomach! Oh, no! he must
needs go pampering himself with the digestive cottages I had expressly
for myself of a morning. As for good wholesome salt butter, too, at
one-and-one, I declare he wouldn’t so much as soil his mouth with it;
not he! but he’d wait till our butter-dish came down, and then
_wouldn’t_ he fall to at our fresh at one-and-eight, and spread it on a
large bit of my digestive cottage--yes! as thick as stucco!

The beauty of it was, too, the fatter he got upon my food, the lazier he
grew over my work, for really it seemed as difficult for him to crawl
along, as if he was one of those heavy inactive things your city folks
_will_ call “lively turtle;” and all the way up stairs one might hear
him breathing as hard as a pavior, and puffing and blowing away like a
railway engine. When he came up, too, there he’d be, with his face
looking as greasy and dirty as the newspaper we have half price from the
coffee-shop, and his forehead as dewy as our kitchen window on a washing
day. But what annoyed me more than all was, that, do what I would, I
could not for the life of me get the nasty bristly pig to shave his
filthy red beard of a morning; and there I should have him bringing the
dinner things up with his four chins looking as rough and rusty as so
many rasped French rolls.

The fellow, too, was so conceited, that really there was no bearing with
him; for instance, if I left him in the parlour dusting the chairs, or
rubbing the tables, directly my back was turned, off he’d be to the pier
glass, and get attitudinizing before it, and arranging the nasty,
greasy, figure 6 curl he had in the middle of his forehead, with his
nasty oily fingers, or else--drat his impudence!--nothing would suit
him, but he must go to the sideboard, and take out the clothes-brush,
or, if that wasn’t handy, the semicircular one we had to sweep the
crumbs off the table-cloth with, and begin scrubbing away at his hair
with it. And the nuisance of it was, bother take it! I _would_ make the
fellow wear powder, so that, if ever I went to brush my beautiful black
German velvet dress, there I should have it with long white streaks upon
it like the inside of a backgammon board, and all smelling of
hair-powder and pomatum as strong as that Duffy’s livery-hat.

Then of an evening, nothing would suit my lord duke but he must needs go
lolling against the post of the street-door with his great big lumpy
legs--like the ballustrades on Waterloo Bridge--crossed one over the
other, picking his teeth with a bit of one of my pens, and ogling the
girls, and making a noise with his lips after them as they went by--as
if he was a perfect Adonis in plush--a--in plush--(tut! tut! it is very
strange! I never can remember the name of those what-d’ye-call-’ems). Or
if he wasn’t at the street door, wasting _my_ time against the post,
there the monkey would be perched up on the top step of the area ladder,
with his cauliflower head poked over the rails, and either in full
gossip with what he made me believe was his washerwoman (the wretch!) or
else sneering away at the policeman, or making game of the soldiers as
they passed the house,--both of whom, he told our cook, who told me,
were low-class hanimals, and people that he could not condescend to sit
down to table with--so there was no use hasking on ’em. The consequence
of this was, that if I had to ring once of an evening for him, I had to
ring at least a hundred times before I could get him to hear me. And
when he did hear me, sneak-to would go the street door, and in he would
come all of an imitation hurry, buttoning up his waistcoat as if he had
been dressing. Only let me stir out of the house, too, for a minute, and
as sure as eggs are eggs, I should find him when I came back with his
four chins resting comfortably on the top of our parlour blinds, and
staring out of window with all his might--as if he was a lord bishop of
the land, and had nothing to do, and there were no such things as
teacups to wash up, or British plate to clean,--which latter article, as
every married lady knows, is only a cheap substitute for silver,
provided you’re rubbing it up every quarter of an hour, and if you’re
not, why it looks more like a very expensive substitute for brass.
Though, as for washing up the tea-things! I really don’t suppose the
corpulent puppy did it above half-a-dozen times, at most, all the while
he was with me. For, what do you think, gentle Reader, the nasty
good-for-nothing, deceitful, carneying peacock used to do? Why if he
usen’t to give that stupid, stupid cook of mine--who ought to have known
better at her time of life--a filthy kiss, to get her to do it for him;
and I suppose that he must have thought his slobberings particularly
precious, for, positively, if the red-haired monkey didn’t go offering
the same high terms to the maids, if they would only fill his coal
scuttles for him, and--I blush for my sex when I say it--the minxes used
to do it at the paltry price. What they can have seen, in the man, I’m
sure I can’t make out; and I’m certain they didn’t know one thing--any
more than I myself did at that time--or they never could have allowed
him to trifle with their very best affections in the shameful way he
did--a nasty, wicked, deceitful, liquorish-toothed “MARRIED MAN!”--and
that’s what he was! When the wretch came to me, he told me he was a
confirmed bachelor; but his livery, though shamefully spotted was not
half worn out, when, to my horror, I discovered that the brute was a
hopeless, inextricable Benedict, with not only a fond wife to
support--out of my larder, drat her!--but no less than seven little
incumbrances to bring up--on my cold meat, hang ’em! As a woman, of
course, I’m for universal matrimony all over the world--though with
regard to those necessary evils called servants, I must confess, I am of
a totally different opinion. For my part, I would have them all bound by
law to remain as single, all their days, as spiders. But from the
parental turn of the Footmen, Housemaids, and Cooks of the nineteenth
century, I’m afraid no Act of Parliament could be made binding enough to
prevent the fond stupids from plunging headlong into wedlock and a
chandler’s shop; and when they find that a bountiful Providence doesn’t
send customers as quick as it does children to such people, then of
course the husband and the father again becomes the footman and the
bachelor, drat him!--while the wife and the mother gets her daily bread
for her children out of her mangle, and her daily _meat_ for them out of
_your_ pantry! In my eyes, the only way to prevent this frightful state
of things, is for us housekeepers to see whether or not, by the high
wages we are now giving for men-servants, we couldn’t prevail upon some
of the poor Catholic priests--who everybody knows have taken the vow of
perpetual celibacy--to put on a _toupée_, and enter our service as
footmen,--though, of course, from the proverbial warm-hearted
disposition of the inhabitants of the “imirald isle,” it might be as
well to give notice--even in such a case--that “no Irish need apply.”

For more than a month I thought that Duffy was as single as the very
Gloucester he had for cheese, and so I should have believed him to my
dying day, had I not noticed that he not only seemed too attentive by
half to his washerwoman--who afterwards turned out to be his
draggle-tail hussey of a wife--but also that the bundles of dirty
clothes he sent to the wash, were considerably more corpulent, than,
from the usual filthy state of his linen, I should have been led to
expect. And it wasn’t long before I found out the cause of it all; for
one fine Monday morning, I happened to go into the pantry, and there lay
the usual stout bundle of dirty linen, belonging to John Duffy, Esquire.
When I opened it on the sly, I thought I should have fainted. There they
were--very pretty indeed!--two pair of cotton stockings--one pair of
cold fried soles--one cotton night-cap--half a raspberry jam tart--one
day shirt--a large piece of a beef-steak pie--two dickies--six tallow
candles--four white cravats--a hunk of cold bacon--one pair of
drawers--and upon my honour, near upon half a hundred weight of coals
stuffed inside of them.

But the beauty of it was, that not content with robbing me of my meat
and coals, and candles and things, the villain must set to work
pilfering our wine as well; and whenever Mr. Sk--n--st--n told him to
decanter a bottle of port, or even sherry, I declare if the fellow
didn’t, while he stood at the sideboard with his back turned to us, fill
a good sized physic bottle out of it every time, for his own private
drinking. For a long time it struck me, that less wine went to the quart
bottle than is usual even with wine-merchants; but I attributed this to
the improvements which are going on in glass manufactories so rapidly,
that bottles, apparently the same size as they used to be, are made, by
some invisible arrangement at the bottom, to hold twice as little as
they used to do; while they seem to be getting less and less so fast,
that soon, instead of two pints making one quart, in wine and beer
measure, as our schoolmasters foolishly taught us to believe, we shall
find it just the very reverse; for shortly, the “Honourable Company of
Free Vintners” will teach us that two quarts make one pint.

Of course, from this I suspected something was wrong, and longed for the
time when I should find my gentleman out. Accordingly, one day seeing
that Mr. Duffy was out of his pantry, and the key in his cupboard door,
I just took the liberty of looking into it, and there, to my great
delight, I saw several rows of physic bottles packed one a-top of
another--with sawdust, too, as I’m a Christian! and lying on their sides
for all the world like a miniature bin of wine. I took up one of them,
labelled “_this draught to be taken at bed time_;” and I declare if it
wasn’t some of our very best port--then another, ticketed, “_the mixture
as before_,” and hang me, if that wasn’t a phial full of our very
choicest brown sherry! and on reaching down a bottle divided into
quarters, with directions, ordering, “_a fourth part of this gargle to
be used whenever the throat is troublesome_,” and if that one wasn’t
filled to the cork--I never knew such impudence!--with some of our very
primest Cogniac brandy! “Hoity toity!” cried I, “so Mr. Duffy must needs
have a private cellar of his own. No wonder Mr. Edward is always telling
me, in his nasty, mean, insinuating way, as if he thought I drank them,
that the wine and spirits go very fast.”

I wasn’t long before I had the whole of Mr. Duffy’s small private cellar
safe in my work basket, and, in less than two minutes, fast in one of
the cupboards of the sideboard. As it was lunch time I determined to try
“a draught to be taken in the morning” myself; for, to tell the truth I
felt rather faint, and thought a glass of port couldn’t hurt me. But
didn’t it though; for no sooner did I put it in my mouth than--ah,
faugh!--oh! lud a mercy me! I never tasted such filth. If the dirty,
fat, lazy pig, hadn’t been pouring the wine into a black dose bottle,
without ever taking the trouble to wash it out first! “Oh, I wish to
goodness gracious!” I cried, putting my hand to my stomach--for I felt
far from myself--“I could only afford to give that dishonest mammoth of
a Duffy notice to quit; and so I would this very moment, if it wasn’t
for that beautiful livery which ought to have another six months’ wear
in it at least!”

About this time, too, it seemed as if Fate--bother take her!--thought
that that Duffy wasn’t enough to fill my cup, so she must needs go
throwing that Wittals in, to make it run over. For, as luck would have
it, one evening, home comes Mr. Skn--n--st--n with the joyful news, that
the young ogre--missing the larder, no doubt--had grown tired of the few
pleasantries connected with the legal profession, and had had the
impudence to demand that he should be taken back again into my
service--telling Edward to his face, that he’d learnt law enough in his
office to know I had bound myself to keep him for these two years to
come. Well, thought I, my fine gentleman, I could have told you as much;
but, of course, I wasn’t going to do so.

The next day, who should march into the house but the young imp himself,
without so much as even a single button left on his beautiful jacket;
and when I asked him what he had done with them, he told me quite coolly
that he’d been gambling at dumps, and having staked his all, had lost
the whole of my beautiful plated sugar-loafs at one unlucky throw! This
put me in such a horrid pet, that I raised my hand to give the young
monkey a box on the ears, which he should remember to his dying day,
when, bless us and save us! if the whiskerless Turk didn’t throw himself
into one of the boldest attitudes of “the noble art” of self-defence,
and spitting in the palm of one of his hands--a dirty young imp!--began
dancing about, too, and bobbing his head, and sparring away at me,
saying, “Come on old un! I should like to see you do it.” “Oh, you
wicked young coward,” I cried; “what, would you strike a poor
woman--augh!” “Wouldn’t I though,” upon my word the monkey answered, “if
she goes hitting on me fust.” I told him to take himself down stairs as
quick as ever he could, and when Mr. Sk--n--st--n came home, we’d see if
he would strike _him_.

Bother take the boy, there was no keeping him quiet anyhow! Now, for
instance, I was obliged to go to the expense of having his livery done
up, for, of course, I couldn’t see the urchin going about the
disreputable figure he was. Well, a day or two after I had got him to
look something like decent, I wanted to go and see dear mother, merely
to ask the good old soul, whether--as the heat was so oppressive--she
had got a good receipt for making ginger beer, and any old stone bottles
she could spare me. As I was only going that short distance, I thought
there would be no use in taking Duffy away from his work--especially as
I didn’t see the necessity of letting him know who and what my friends
were, or of pointing out to the fat stuck-up pig that the merchant I had
made out my respected father to be was merely a coal ditto, and the
vessels which I had spoken so often of before him at meals, were merely
two barges filled with the very finest knubbly “Lord Mayors.” And as for
taking that young Wittals to walk behind me as a protector, bless you!
it was worse than useless. Besides, the young monkey had got a tongue as
long as my arm, and I should have those filthy, shameful, wicked, false
reports, flying all about the neighbourhood again, with their precious
“Mrs. Sk--n--st--n’s friends is only heavers.” Heavers! pretty heavers,
indeed!

Well, as I was saying, off I trotted to dear mother’s, but as my luck
would have it, she couldn’t lay her hands on the receipt I wanted,
anywhere. However, as Mrs. Lockley had given it to her, the good old
soul had no doubt she would do as much for me. So I thought to myself,
the best thing I can do is to go on and see that sweet woman. Mother,
with her usual kindness, wanted me to stay dinner; but I begged of her
not to ask me to stop that day, as I had got a beautiful hot fillet of
veal for dinner, (which I am very partial to,) but if she liked I would
come on the morrow when it was cold, (which I do not like at all).
Whereupon mother said as it was her washing day, I must take pot luck if
I came; but knowing what _that_ stood for at home, I suddenly remembered
a pressing engagement I had, which, I regretted, would deprive me of the
pleasure.

I thought I should never have got to that sweet woman, Mrs. Lockley’s;
for really the weather did seem to me so oppressive, that, upon my word,
I felt ready to drop; and if it hadn’t been for the look of the thing, I
do believe I should have sat down to rest myself on one of the
door-steps. I was so hungry, too, with my long walk, that I certainly
should have gone into some pastry-cook’s on my way, and destroyed my
stomach with a lot of trash out of the housekeeping, if I hadn’t known
that it was close upon that sweet woman Mrs. Lockley’s hour for
luncheon.

When I got to Mrs. Lockley’s, of course, with my usual luck, she had
only got one or two filthy baked apples and a little cold bullock’s
heart (which, though I’d go miles for when smoking hot with veal
stuffing, plenty of currant jelly, and a plate as warm as warm can be,
yet I can’t even bear to look at it when it’s cold). So, as I didn’t
relish this fare very much, I told Mrs. Lockley, when she apologised for
the lunch, and asked me if I’d do as she did, that nothing on earth
would give me greater pleasure, as, strange to say, they were two of my
most favourite dishes; but, I added, I’m frightened to touch either, my
love--for, to tell the truth, I’ve a nasty cold upon me; and, as I know
I can be frank with you, my dear, if you should happen to have such a
thing as an oyster or two handy, I think it would do me good. When,
actually, the sweet woman, like a stupid, _would_ send out for some
expressly for me, though I begged and prayed of the kind soul not to put
herself to all that trouble on my account--taking good care, however,
not to overdo it this time; for I thought it was the least she could do
for me after leaving me to pay the whole of that cab, in the disgraceful
way she had. As Lockley was out of town, and as I remembered she hadn’t
seen our footman, and, besides, as I had got a love of a fillet of veal,
why, I thought I couldn’t do less after all her kindness than ask that
sweet woman, Mrs. Lockley, to come and take a plain family dinner with
us that day; which she said she would. Presently, off we started, and
walked along chatting so comfortably, no one can tell.

Just as we had got near home, and I was thinking how nice and envious
that sweet woman, Mrs. Lockley, would be, when she found poor us living
in such superior style to herself, and that we kept two male servants
instead of her little poking twopenny-half-penny one--lo, and behold!
all of a sudden, I saw a large crowd of little dirty boys collected in a
ring across the road, right opposite our house. By the noise of the
drums, I knew it was a sight, and I hurried along as fast as ever I
could, for I do like to see them. As we approached, I heard the voice of
one of those stupid street conjurors crying out as loud as he could,
that as soon as there was ninepence in the ring, he would cut off some
poor young gentleman’s head. So I told that sweet woman, Mrs. Lockley,
to come along for heaven’s sake, or we shouldn’t be in time; and on we
toddled together as fast as my legs would carry me. On looking up at our
house, I declare if there wasn’t that stupid, stupid cook, and that lazy
minx of a housemaid lolling out of one of the windows of my bedroom, and
that John Duffy out of the other. I merely shook my parasol at them
then, and went as near as I could to see the stupid nonsense. When I
caught sight of the boy in the ring, who had come forward to allow
himself to be beheaded, positively if it wasn’t that abominable, wicked,
incorrigible young imp of a Wittals of mine, who, having seen the trick
done some hundred of times before, and knowing very well that the
ninepence never yet had been made up, was delighted at being a party to
the stupid imposition, which, I dare say, he thought a capital joke. No
sooner did I set eyes upon him, out there in the middle of the dusty
road, in my beautiful claret and silver (only just newly renovated too),
with his best hat down on the ground, and all the neighbours at the
windows, laughing away at the gratifying idea of the Sk--n--st--n’s
grand page making such a scamp of himself--no sooner, I repeat, did I
set eyes upon the disreputable young rip, than at him I rushed, right
through the little boys. But directly he caught sight of me, on went his
hat, with all the coppers that had been collected in it, a-top of his
head, and off he scampered, and I after him, parasol in hand, as hard
as I could go, while after me came all the little dirty boys, hurraying
and hooting, and hollowing out “Go it, missus,”--“Go it, tiger,”
until--finding I couldn’t catch that Wittals--I turned round, and began
laying my parasol about the noisy and impudent young vagabonds at my
heels. And then, oh, la! the nasty young dogs! what must they do but
begin pelting me with mud and all kinds of filth, right over my
beautiful lace bonnet and love of a poplin dress--salmon shot
snuff,--and kept on at it, even on my own door step, whilst I was
jerking away at the bell and hammering away at the knocker, trying to
get that big fat elephant of a Duffy to saunter up to the door before I
was one positive cake of mud from head to foot--for, drat those boys!
the more I ran after them, the more they pelted me.

When I went to the parlour window, to shake my fist at the young
urchins, who wouldn’t go away from the house, but kept on hooting
outside as hard as they could, who should I see on the other side of the
way, laughing fit to burst all her hooks and eyes, but that vulgar
woman, Mrs. Lockley, drat her! whom I, like a great big silly, had
brought up to see the superior style in which we lived. Well, there
always was something about the creature I didn’t exactly like!

When I told dear, dear Edward of all that happened, and how that Wittals
had been going on the very day after I had consented to receive him back
to my service, he very justly said, that he wasn’t at all surprised at
anything that young vagabond did, for he was impudent as a London
sparrow, and he had been quite sickened of him by his tricks at his
office; in fact, he knew there was no getting the good-for-nothing
scapegrace to do a thing. For instance, if he wanted a simple letter
copied, and called out to him, “Wittals, what have you got in hand just
now?” the scamp would be sure to answer, “An apple, please sir,” or
something just as aggravating. So Edward advised me, that the best thing
I could do was to go down to the workhouse, and try and get them to take
the boy back, which he was sure they would for a few pounds, if the case
was properly represented to them. But I pretty soon told my gentleman
that I was sure they would do no such thing (and if they would, I
wouldn’t). For, to tell the truth, now that I had got two male servants
in the house, I

[Illustration: “_Oh ah! let ’em ring again!_”]

wasn’t going to sink down to one again in a hurry; and, bother take it!
to have to go ill again, may be, or leave my stingy Mr. Edward a second
time--“_for ever!_” perhaps, before I could get him to let me have
another. Besides, that great big lazy porpoise of a Mr. Duffy, was
always grumbling about having to clean a few trumpery boots and knives,
and talking about the families of quality he had lived in--(I never saw
such quality!) where he had been accustomed to have a lad under him--so,
all things considered, I really couldn’t bring my heart to turn a poor
orphan like that monkey of a Wittals into the cold streets, and,
accordingly with my usual good nature, made up my mind to keep the pair
of them--at least until their liveries were fairly worn out.

Upon my word, at times, I was sorry that I hadn’t taken Edward’s advice,
for _that_ Wittals made Duffy no better, and _that_ Duffy only made
Wittals much worse. Now, I dare say, the reader will imagine that, with
two male servants in the house, and little or nothing for them to do, I
might at least have got so much as a simple bell answered; but, oh dear,
no! I might pull and pull as though I was up in a filthy belfry pulling
my arms off for a leg of mutton and trimmings; and yet, there Mr. Duffy
would sit, roasting his fat calves before the fire, as unconcerned as a
mute at a street door--with his precious “Oh, ah! let ’em ring
again!”--while that idle vagabond of a Mr. Wittals sat stock still, with
both his hands stuffed into the pockets of his mulberry pantaloons, as
if they were made of cast iron, and grinning away, as though he thought
it a capital joke to trifle with my feelings. Then, positively, too, if
that Duffy didn’t go and so inoculate that Wittals with his nasty,
familiar ways, that, as for getting any respect out of the pair of them,
Lord bless you! one might just as well have looked for civility from a
cabman after paying him his legal fare. If I happened to meet either of
them in the street, not so much as a touch of the hat could they treat
me to; and do what I would, I could no more get them to put ‘Mam’ at the
end of their sentences when they spoke to me, than if they had been a
couple of clerks at a railway station. First, I should have that Wittals
speaking of my little angel of a Catherine, as “Kitty,” to my very
face, though I had told him, over and over again, that the cherub’s
name was Miss Sk--n--st--n, and begged of him not to let me hear him
‘Kitty’ her again, if he wanted to stop in my house; but, as the monkey
knew very well that I couldn’t turn him out of it, of course he didn’t
care two pins about what I said. Then I should have that great fat Duffy
coming strolling into the parlour as slow as an omnibus half full, and
asking, “How many we should be to dinner to-day?”--putting me in such a
passion with his “We’s” (as if he was one of the family), that I used to
say, “_We!_ whom do you mean by _we_, I should like to know, sir? I and
your master will dine at home to-day, and that’s the only _we_ I am
acquainted with in this house; though, perhaps, by your _we’s_, you’d
like to sit down to the table with us--and, I’m sure, I shouldn’t be at
all surprised if you did, for you certainly seem to me always to forget
who you are, and what you are, and where you came from.”

But where was the good of wasting one’s breath upon a great fat lazy
pig, that was dead to every moral as well as religious tie? Now, I think
I have told the reader somewhere in my interesting little work, that one
of my principal inducements in getting Edward to consent to my keeping a
footman, was the standing it gives one, in this, alas! empty world, to
have a fine handsome man-servant in an elegant showy livery to carry
your prayer books behind you to church, and to come up to your pew and
fetch than again after divine service, (which, thank goodness, I can
safely lay my head on my pillow at night, and say, that ever since I
have kept house, and had an example to set my servants, I have always
made a point of attending--unless, indeed, I have known that one of
those beggarly collections was going to take place at the doors.) Well!
as I was going to say, upon my word, I had much better have taken no
footman to church at all, as that heathen of a Duffy; for as soon as we
stood up for the first hymn, and I turned round to observe how his
livery looked among the congregated footmen, and whether he was paying a
proper attention to his religious duties or not, there I should be
certain to see him, directly he caught my eye, take his hat, and putting
his handkerchief to his nose, to make believe it was bleeding, sneak
down the aisle on tiptoe; and I should never clap eyes on the livery
again until church was all over, when I should have him coming back
smelling of beer and tobacco, enough to knock the whole congregation
down--though where on earth he could have got it from, was more than I
and our policeman could ever make out.

Was ever a poor dear married lady so tormented in all her life? _That_
Duffy was bad enough, as the reader can plainly see now; but _that_
Wittals was ten times worse, as the reader shall see presently. Now,
_par examp_ (as we say at _Bologne-sur-mere_,) dear--dear--_dear_ uncle
R--msb--tt--m, like a good generous old soul as he is, would go sending
up to that cherub of a Kitty of mine, a beautiful little love of a pet
lamb, that had the most heavenly fore and hind quarters I think I ever
beheld in all my born days; and it was so nice and fat that it quite
made my mouth water to look at it--even alive. Still it was so fond and
tame, and that darling ducks-o’-diamonds of a Kitty of mine was so
pleased with her tiddy-ickle bar-lam as she used to call it--bless her
little eyes! (please excuse a fond mother’s feelings, gentle
reader,)--that, though I couldn’t look at the animal without thinking of
mint sauce, and the animal cost me near upon a shilling a week for
bread, and milk, and turnips, yet I thought as dear good uncle
R--msb--tt--m had sent it up, and as he was Kitty’s godfather, and had
neither chick nor child, and was actually rolling in money (if I might
be allowed so strong an expression) I thought, I say, he might be
offended, if it came to his ears that we had eaten the darling little
pet for dinner, immediately after its arrival in town. So we put a sweet
pretty blue sarsnet ribbon round its fat neck, and kept it in the garden
by day, and the knife house by night, till really the thing’s
bed-chamber “foohed” so, that it was enough to knock you down. The worst
of it was, too, that do what we would, we could not keep the little
love’s white coat clean in this grubby “metropolis of the world,” though
we scoured it well at least once a week in our own foot-bath; for
directly after we had washed it, and put it out in the garden again,
down would come the smuts so thick, that in less than half-an-hour one
would have fancied the natural colour of the poppet’s coat was pepper
and salt; and what used to put me in such a passion was, if I went out
in the garden of an evening, in my sweet white muslin skirt and black
velvet body to fondle the dingy little brute, it _would_ get _so_
affectionate, I declare, and _would_ come rubbing up against my
flounces, until they looked as black as a coal heaver’s stockings on a
Saturday. But what annoyed me more than all was--bother take the
thing!--it would grow so fast, that, though I must have wasted at least
a gallon of gin in trying to stop its growth, still it was all of no
use, and I only kept making the creature so tipsy, that it would prance
about like a mad thing, and half frighten me out of my life. Pet lambs
are one thing, but the idea of going and bestowing your affections on a
great hulking sheep with horns long enough to poke both your eyes out,
was what I had no notion of doing. Plague take that cruel Wittals too!
no sooner had he set foot in the house, and seen this new member of the
family, than his great delight used to be to catch hold of the poor
thing by the two horns, directly they began to grow, one in each hand,
and keep pushing the animal backwards and forwards until really he made
the beast as savage as a tiger, and taught it to butt so, that upon my
word it would run at you with its head down, for all the world like one
of those stupid Cornish wrestlers. As for that fat coward of a Duffy,
positively he was so afraid of what in his stupid country dialect he
called the “wicked mutton,” that I couldn’t for the life of me get the
fellow to go near the poor thing; and if Wittals hadn’t been there, it
must have stopped out every night, and may be died of rheumatism from
sleeping out on the damp grass, instead of in a comfortable warm
knife-house. So matters went on, until Kitty’s little pet got to be a
great waddling monster of a sheep, and only grew more and more savage
from being always tied up to our apple tree, and fatter and fatter from
want of exercise, while all the time mutton kept getting higher and
higher, from I don’t know what, until at last it seemed to me a shameful
sin to go wasting good wholesome turnips, at three bunches for fippence,
on such a creature, when one of its legs would eat so beautifully,
boiled, with some of _those very_ turnips.

Well! like a thrifty housewife as I am, I had half made up my mind to
have one of the great hulking pet’s haunches, with red currant jelly,
for dinner the next Sunday, while it was nice and young and tender, when
dear mother luckily called in to see me, and I thought I would consult
with her on the subject. On going to the window, to show her what prime
condition the darling was in, I declare, if the brute hadn’t got away
from the apple tree, and wasn’t right in my flower-bed, making a hearty
meal off the few double stocks and sweet-williams I had in my garden,
and which I prided myself so much upon, and the Simmonds’s were so
jealous of. I gave a slight scream, and rang the bell for that
dare-devil of a Wittals, knowing that it was no good looking for any
assistance from that chicken-hearted stupid of a Duffy. But, of course,
Wittals, as is always the case when he’s wanted, had slipped out after
some more of that sticky sweet-stuff, which I’m continually obliged to
be taking away from him, and eating myself, to prevent him from spoiling
his livery. So, as I couldn’t stand still and see my beautiful
sweet-williams eaten up before my very eyes, I ran down the garden
steps, and catching hold of the end of the rope, tried to drag the
woolly cannibal back to the apple tree. But no sooner did I tug the
wretch away from the flowers, than off it set scampering round and round
me, until, I declare, it wound the cord all about my poor legs, for all
the world as if I had been a peg-top and it meant to send me
spinning--which sure enough, whether he meant it or not, it did. For,
directly it got my feet bound fast together with the rope, so that I
couldn’t stir an inch, “the wicked mutton,” as Mr. Duffy called it,
rushed full butt at me, and immediately up went my legs, and down I came
bump on the grass, with a force that I felt for months afterwards. I set
to screaming directly as loud as I could for Mother and Duffy, and
kicking with all my might,--for, my legs being tied, I, of course,
couldn’t get up, and there was the savage brute poking away with its
horns, like the prongs of a pitchfork, at the cotton tops of my silk
stockings. At last, just as I’d got my poor feet free from the rope by
my continued kickings, thank goodness! I heard the garden door slam to,
and knew, by Duffy’s puffing and blowing, and Mother’s “pshewing” away
like a rocket, that assistance was at hand. But, alas! no sooner did the
rampant beast catch sight of that Duffy’s red plush thingomybobs, than,
attracted by the colour I suppose, off it scampered towards the
porpoise; and no sooner did that coward of a Duffy catch sight of the
rampant beast coming full gallop towards him, than he let fall, with
fright, the broom he had come armed with to my help, and taking to his
fat legs, ran round the garden, blowing like an asthmatic grampus, with
the wicked mutton tearing after him like a woolly maniac. Just as he had
got within a yard or so of me, and I had managed to raise myself on my
hands and knees, oh! lud-a-mercy me! the savage brute rushed full butt
at him behind with such force, that the great fat hulking monster cried
out, “O--oo!” and was pitched sprawling right on to my poor back, and
down I went again, flop, with such force, that if the fellow--though no
sylph--hadn’t been as plump and soft as a feather bed, I do verily
believe I should have been taken up a human pancake, and had to have
been buried in one of the cracks in Dover cliffs, or some such horrible
out-of-the-way place.

Poor dear respected mother--who up to this moment had been very prudent,
and never left the garden-steps--the very minute she saw that fat Duffy
a-top of me, and that “wicked mutton” jumping with all its might a-top
of Duffy, rushed down to our rescue, shaking her handkerchief, like a
stupid old thing as she is--for she ought, at _her_ time of life, to
have known that it would only have made the infuriated brute wilder than
ever. And so to her cost it did; for no sooner did the animal see her,
than at her it ran, and, just as she got close to our beautiful large
variegated holly-bush, it gave such a poke at her busk, that back the
dear respected old soul went, right into the middle of the horrid
prickly shrub, and there the nasty brute stood, butting away at her, and
pushing her further and further into the bush, until, what with the
agony of the sharp prickles at her back, and the fear of the furious
animal’s horns in front, I declare the poor dear old thing screamed in
such a way, that it cut me to the quick to be obliged--when I’d kicked
and tumbled that mountain of a Duffy off my back--to fly for my own
life, and turn a deaf ear, not only to her heart-rending cries, but also
to her pathetic entreaties to bring either the kitchen poker or the
spit, and drive the mad beast from her. And well can I understand her
screaming now, for when that monkey of a Wittals came in again, and he’d
got my dear respected mother out of the holly-bush, upon my word, if
the poor old soul’s back wasn’t pierced all over with the fine-pointed
prickly things, and as full of little holes as a captain’s biscuit!--and
no wonder; for, as luck would have it, she’d got on my thin fine Swiss
cambric dress, which, having been quite spoilt, drat it! at the washing,
I had kindly made her a present of on her last birth-day.

Any gentle reader, in her proper senses, may readily suppose that after
this I wasn’t long in giving that over-grown coward of a Duffy notice to
quit. Of course I didn’t see the fun of keeping a man to walk after me
as a protection who was frightened out of his wits by a trumpery “wicked
mutton,” which a mere whiskerless brat could take by the horns whenever
he liked. But no sooner had I told the good-for-nothing that he would be
pleased to leave my service that day month, than I declare if he didn’t
turn round and tell me to my very face, “that he would do so with all
the pleasure in life,” saying, “it was a place to take the very life out
of a man” (I think so, indeed, with only two in family, and little or no
plate to clean); and that he never knew what work was before in all his
life (pretty work, indeed!--a couple of trumpery tea-cups to wash up of
a morning, and a page to help him); so he actually had the impudence to
think I had better pay him his month, and let him leave the wretched
slavery that very minute, or else he knew he should have to take to his
bed with illness, for he shouldn’t be able to put out his hand to do a
thing shortly from overwork, and then I should have to nurse him. Nurse
him, indeed! Should I?--when all the time I knew it was only a mere
make-believe to cheat me out of a month’s wages. Augh! I do detest
people that pretend they’re ill just to gain their own selfish ends!

Accordingly I gave my delicate elephant to understand that he’d get no
month’s wages out of me, unless I first got a month’s work out of him,
to which my gentleman merely answered, between his teeth, “He’d see
about that;” and he said it in such a nasty, spiteful way, that
convinced me he meant something horrible. Sure enough so he did; for
when I rang the bell for him to bring up the tray, to lay the things for
dinner, I all of a sudden heard the most tremendous crash, as if ten
thousand chimney-pots had fallen through two thousand skylights. I
rushed to the top of the kitchen stairs, and cried out, “Good heavens,
Duffy! what’s that?” when I declare if he hadn’t the coolness to answer,
“It’s only me, mum, a breaking the plates and dishes.” I tore down to
the pantry, and told him I’d have him punished; and then, of course, it
was, his “foot had slipped, and I couldn’t punish him for a mere
accident.” “Accident, indeed!” I said to myself, as I marched up stairs
again, “oh, yes! it’s one of those many precious accidents which, even
in the best regulated families, are done on purpose.” But, what could I
do? I knew the spiteful good-for-nothing lout would swear till he was
black in the face that his foot _did_ slip; and how was poor I to prove
to the contrary?

I declare the man went on so, that I soon saw I should be several pounds
in pocket by paying the fellow what he wanted, and getting him out of
the house as soon as possible. Now, there were my beautiful cut glass
decanters, (which belonged to Mr. Sk--n--st--n’s poor dear first wife,)
well, nothing would suit my gentleman, but he must go washing them in
scalding hot water, and then, pretending to be astonished because they
went crack, flying in every direction. But, of course, that was the
fault of the glass, and none of his--oh, no! Then, again, too, the
revengeful monkey must go wiping all the dirty knives with my very best
glass cloths, which I had bought new expressly for him, until they were
as full of cuts and gashes as poor dear father’s shoes when he’s got the
gout. And, positively, do what I would, I could not prevent him from
cleaning his shoes in my dress livery, until, what with the blacking and
his carelessness, upon my word, his red plush thingomys were all over
black spots, like the back of a ladybird, and his beautiful white coat
as grubby as the outside of St. Paul’s. As for making the monkey stir of
a morning, too, I declare it was no use trying, for though I commenced
ringing at six o’clock, to a minute, and kept on pulling
away--determined that if the fat, lazy sloth wouldn’t get up to see
about my breakfast, at least he shouldn’t have another wink of
sleep,--yet I couldn’t for the life of me get him to come up for the
keys till near upon eight o’clock at the earliest; though how on earth
the pig ever managed to snore through it all was a wonder to me, for it
struck me it must be very like trying to take a nap in a belfry on the
coronation day. But on going into my gentleman’s room, one fine morning,
upon my word, if the fat, lazy, cunning fox hadn’t crammed one of his
nasty, dirty stockings into the mouth of the bell, until I declare it
wouldn’t speak any more than a married lady in the sulks. So, really and
truly, when I came to think of it, was it worth while for a trumpery
month’s wages to let the fellow remain in the house till all my glass
and crockery were broken to shivers, and my beautiful queen’s-pattern
plated coffee-pot, with silver edges, was all battered in, as horribly
as the pewter quart measure at a fruit-stall. Accordingly, I made the
best of a bad bargain, and packed the scoundrel out of the house,
telling him not to expect a character from me. When he had gone, and I
examined his livery to see whether by any manner of means I could have
it cleaned for my next footman, I give the reader my word and honour, if
the fat savage hadn’t been wiping on the skirts of my beautiful white
coat the dirty pens with which he’d been answering the advertisements in
the _Times_, and all the left sleeve was streaked over with ink, till it
had as many black marks upon it as a mackerel’s back.

As for that Wittals, there was no bearing with _him_ either; for bad as
he was before, I declare if that Duffy hadn’t so inoculated him with all
the airs of a grown-up footman, that, upon my word, he seemed to think
it a positive disgrace to work for his living. So I told him, very
quietly, I had been turning it over in my mind, and if he had any wish
to better himself, I should be very happy to exert myself to find him an
excellent situation, and make it a moral duty to give him a good
character, which, I said, he knew as well as I did, he didn’t deserve.
And nicely I caught it for my kindness, after all; for, bother take it!
he went on so shamefully in his new place, that I declare if his brute
of a master didn’t begin an action against us, for _giving a servant a
false character_; and we had to compromise it by paying goodness knows
how much!

However, I determined that this should be a lesson to me not to give any
more good characters in a hurry, but to speak the truth in future. So,
when that Duffy, who was out of place again six months, came to me, as
thin as a German umbrella, and as meek as a pew-opener, to hope that I
would look over what had past, and say a good word for him, I told him
pretty plainly, “Oh, yea! I’d speak for him, and do him perfect justice,
he might rest assured.” Accordingly, I just gave a plain, unvarnished
statement of all his goings on, and shameful pilferings, when, of
course, the party refused to have anything at all to do with him. And
then, bother take it, if _he_ didn’t get some pettifogging lawyer to
bring an action against us for libel (truth is a libel, Edward says)--so
that, positively, this time we had to pay goodness knows how much more
again for _giving a servant a true character_--drat it!

This very naturally convinced me that the only safe way of acting was to
refuse to give any character at all to servants. Accordingly, when that
stupid, stupid cook--whom I’d little or no fault to find with, excepting
that she was so taken up with Wittals and Duffy that I thought it best
to give her notice to go when they did, lest she should set the new
servants against their place--accordingly, I say, when she wished to
know when it would suit me to see the lady with whom she was going to
live, I told her that she needn’t think of sending any of her ladies to
me, for I had made up my mind not to say _one_ word about her conduct
either one way or the other. And then--drat that common law, which Mr.
Edward will have is the perfection of common sense--we had another
plaguy action brought against us, and had a third time to pay as much as
would have bought us two beautiful opera pit tickets for the season, for
taking the bread out of a person’s mouth, and _refusing to give a
servant any character at all_.

This little insight into human nature, made me so disgusted with
servants, and taught me that they were such a bad, worthless, ungrateful
set, that of course I showed very little consideration for their
trumpery feelings afterwards, and I kept bundling them out of the house,
one after another so quickly, that I had them coming in and going out as
fast as the people at the Bank of England on a dividend-day. But after a
year or so of this continual changing, Mr. Edward did get _so_ fidgety,
and to tell the truth, I myself got _so_ sick of writing answers to
those stupid advertisements of “Want Places,” and spending a whole
fortune in postage-stamps, for a pack of letters to your “GOOD PLAIN
COOKS,” and “STEADY, ACTIVE, YOUNG MEN, who have no objection to
travel,” (I dare say they haven’t--and no more should I have, for the
matter of that, if any one would pay my expenses for me,) that, upon my
word, at last I thought it might save me a world of bother, if--as the
creatures were always grumbling at being over-worked in my
establishment--I paid some attention to what they said for once in a
way, and allowed them to have another pair of hands to help them. And
then, odds-bobs and buttercups! directly I had been great silly enough
to listen to the complaints of one of them, of course all the others
expected I should do as much for them!

First, the nursery-maid, owing to the increase of my family, (for I went
on blessing Edward with another little tiddy-ickle-petsy-wetsy of a
beautiful baby--with, thank heaven, all its dear little limbs right and
straight--regularly every eighteen months)--first, the nursery-maid, I
repeat, found it impossible to mind so many young children without an
under one to assist her. And when I, like a ninny, had coaxed Edward to
allow her to have what she wanted, then, of course, the housemaid
(directly we had an extra story put on to our villa, from sheer want of
bed-rooms) must find out that the house was too large for her to attend
to single-handed, so _she_ must needs want an under one as well. Well,
when I had wheedled Mr. Edward into that too--for as he very beautifully
and philosophically said, throwing up his hands and tearing his hair,
“Oh, anything you like, for peace and quiet”--then the cook must walk
into the parlour and tell me, that we were so many in family now, and
there were so many dinners to cook--one for the nursery, one for the
kitchen, and one for the parlour--that really the plates and dishes were
more than one person’s time to wash up, and she was sure her
constitution would give way under it unless she had a scullery-maid to
help her. So then, I had to carney, and fondle, and flatter _that_
Edward for days, and when that wouldn’t do, to get out of temper and
sulk for weeks with him together, in order to let the poor cook have a
maid under _her_, too, in the kitchen. But, then, the worst of it was,
that what with the upper nursery maid and the under nurserymaid--the
upper housemaid and the under housemaid--the cook and the scullery
maid--and the footman and the page into the bargain--positively, I had
our poking villa so full of servants, that we were as short of beds as a
country town during the assizes: and, as our lease had still fifteen
years to run, and since, owing to that bothering, rattling railway at
the back of us, we couldn’t get anybody to take it off our hands, and
as--plague take those maids--I could _not_ get them to sleep three in a
tester anyhow, why, drat it, there we had to go putting another and
another story to our residence, till I declare our villa looked like an
old Jew with three hats on.

However, if I must tell the truth, I didn’t object to this so much after
all; for I felt that the great, big, grand house, we had now got over
our heads, and the large retinue of servants we had at our backs, did
give us such a position in this empty world, and such a footing in
hollow-hearted society, that--notwithstanding Mr. Edward was always
telling me, I and my servants were driving him into the Queen’s Bench as
fast as he could gallop, or even a National Theatre could take
him--still for the sake of my four poor dear children, and those yet to
come, I determined not to give way--even so much as a scullery maid--no!
not if I had to be afflicted with a violent neuralgia again--or even St.
Vitus’s dance in the height of summer, for it.

But I was far from being as happy in the midst of all this grandeur as I
had, like a stupid girl as I am, foolishly expected; for no sooner had I
got eight servants dangling at my heels, than, lud-a-mussy-me! if I
could get as much attention or as much peace and quiet as when I had
only one--a mere servant of all work--to wait upon me. If I wanted
anything done, positively, it didn’t seem to be anybody’s place to do
it. For instance, let me tell the footman to sweep up a few crumbs from
under the table, of course it wasn’t _his_ place--but he’d send the
housemaid; then let me tell the housemaid to bring up some more coals,
of course it wasn’t _her_ place--but she’d send the footman. If I told
the upper nurserymaid to make me a little warm water-gruel, for my
little angel’s bottle (love its sweet eyes!) oh dear me, no! even this
was too much, it wasn’t _her_ place--but she’d tell the under one. If I
went down stairs, too, to see about dinner, and just asked the cook to
wash a trumpery basin for me--bless you! she couldn’t think of soiling
her delicate hands with a dish-clout; no! it wasn’t _her_ place--but
she’d tell the scullery-maid. Augh! the lazy, good-for-nothing pack of
leeches! And what did they think _was_ their place, then, I should like
to know? I can tell them what _I_ think their place was! and that’s--a
very snug berth, with little or nothing to do, but to try their hardest
to eat me out of house and home--and _that’s_ what it was.




CHAPTER XVI.

AND THE LAST, (_thank goodness! say I_.)

     WHICH MY COURTEOUS READERS MUST READ, IF THEY WANT TO KNOW WHAT
     IT’S ABOUT, AS I’VE NO ROOM TO TELL THEM.

    Fare thee well! and if for ever,
    Why, for ever----

     POPULAR SONG, _by Byron, which, for the reason above mentioned, I
     haven’t space to finish_.

Well, I’ll give you my word, gentle reader--though I dare say you’ll
hardly believe it--such was the state of things I got to at last;
everything was going crooked in the house--the under nurserymaid
quarrelling with the upper nurserymaid, the upper housemaid complaining
of the under housemaid, and that brute of a footman ill-treating that
monkey of a page--until it was nothing else but jingle-jangle,
wringle-wrangle, from the moment we got up in the morning to the very
instant we went to bed at night. But I do think I could have borne it
all, if it hadn’t been for one dreadful “_contretemps_,” which fairly
drove me out of my senses.

You see, our footman had, like a stupid, fallen down with the urn, and
scalded himself so bad, that I packed him off as an in-door patient to
the hospital--as it struck me I couldn’t do less--and the one I had
after him I did fancy would have turned out such a jewel; but, alas!
alas!--let me restrain my feelings.

When he came after the place, I thought I never saw such a fine,
honest, open countenance in all my born days; and the man did appear
_so_ clean, and was _so_ respectful and meek, and _so_ willing and
good-tempered looking, and was _so_ fond of children, that, I declare,
if he didn’t ask me if he might shake hands with my little Kitty (who
was now nearly seven, and, as he said, as fine and pretty a girl for her
age as he’d ever beheld, and so like its mamma.) The sole stipulation he
made, was that he might be allowed to go to church at least twice every
Sunday--though this only pleased me the more with him. And when he told
me he had lived for the last eighteen years with one of the bishops of
the land (bless us and save us! I said to myself, there’s a character
for you!) and that the only cause for his leaving was, that his poor
master, who had always been a kind one to him, had got embarrassed in
railway speculations, and been obliged to break up his palace in the
country. His lady, however, was staying in town, and would be happy to
see me any morning I pleased to name; so, as I had no idea of letting
such a treasure of a servant slip through my fingers, I made the
appointment for the very next day. The Bishop’s lady--who had the first
floor over a very nice pastry-cook’s in May-fair, for a temporary
residence in London--received me with great condescension, and told me
with almost tears in her poor eyes, that Thompson’s account was very
true, and that if anything in their difficulties grieved her more than
another, it was parting with such an estimable treasure as that good,
honest, worthy man. I don’t think I ever saw such a perfect lady in all
my life. Her dress though, it struck me, was a little too showy for a
person in her station; and (between ourselves) when I looked at her
steadfastly in the face, I declare if the beautiful high colour she had
got on her cheeks wasn’t as artificial as a Grand Banquet on the stage.
Still, as I knew that the heads of our mother church had none of your
tight-laced, puritanical notions about dress--and if they had, why they
confined them chiefly to the lead-coloured quaker-cut liveries of their
men-servants--I didn’t see why a poor wife shouldn’t wear what she
liked. Her ladyship apologized for the absence of his lordship,
informing me that he was down in the country attending to his flock, so
that I at once saw the dreadful straits to which they were reduced, and
couldn’t help feeling how hard it must be for the poor man at his time
of life to have to begin to work for his living. And I’m sure, from her
ladyship’s charming manners, which--though, perhaps, a _leetle_ too free
for the vulgar world--still proved to me that she had been accustomed
all her days to better things. She spoke of Thompson in such
affectionate terms, that I couldn’t help thinking _she_ was the best of
mistresses, while _he_ was the best of servants; and poor _I_, the
luckiest of women, to have fallen in with such people. Just as I was
about to say “good morning” and take my leave, a dashing cabriolet drove
up, and her ladyship, on looking through the window, exclaimed, “De-har,
de-har me! if it is’nt the archbeeshop, my de-har reverend uncle! why
what evar keyan have brought ‘York’ up to town. Perhaps you will be
keyind enough to exkeyuse me.” In my politest way I answered,
“Certainly,” and sailing like a swan out of the room, I determined to
have a good stare at the archbishop as I marched down stairs. When I
peeped through the window in the passage that gave into the shop, there
he was, dressed in the first style of fashion, eating brandy cherries
with his white kid gloves on, and--what at the time I couldn’t for the
life of me understand--a pair of the most beautiful little curly
mustachios I ever recollect to have seen in all my born days.

Well, the first night after that treasure of a Thompson had entered our
service, and we had been in bed from four to five hours, judging by our
rushlight, I was dreaming that I was flying so nicely, just skimming
along the surface of the earth, for all the world as if I was a great
goose, and saying to myself, “Ah! now I see how it’s done; you have only
got to hold your breath, and wag your arms--so,” when I was awoke by the
sound of a pair of heavy boots tramping up stairs. First, I thought it
was that plaguy kitten, playing with Edward’s Wellingtons, outside the
door, and dragging them down the stairs after her; but, lud-a-mercy-me,
on looking at the door, I declare if I couldn’t see, by the bright line
of light shining underneath it, that somebody was in the house. So I
bounced out of bed, and turning the key, (for we had only got the night
bolt down,) I snatched up my beautiful amethyst brooch off the
dressing-table, as well as (between ourselves) my false front tooth out
of the tumbler of water there, and popping them both under the pillow,
I jumped into bed again, determined to sell them only with my life. I
had no sooner succeeded in waking Mr. Sk--n--st--n, who sleeps as heavy
as an alderman at church, than positively the handle of the door began
to move. Up jumped Edward, and I clung to him like a barnacle, saying,
in a low whisper, “What are you about?--would you risk your precious
life when you know it’s not insured?” But out he got, and down I dived
under the clothes almost to the bottom of the bed, expecting every
minute that I should be dragged out by my hair, and forced by a couple
of villains, holding a pistol at each of my ears, to give up not only my
love of a brooch to pacify them, but even my superb ivory front tooth,
which had, at least, five shillings’ worth of gold about it. The first
thing I heard when I took my fingers out of my ears, was the sound of a
stranger’s voice, saying, “Do you know as your street door is open?”
Then, coming up from under the bed-clothes, and putting my head half out
between the curtains, while I held them together as close as ever I
could, there I saw a great, big, black policeman standing at our
bed-room door, with his dark lantern in his hand, and Mr. Edward, in the
chintz dressing-gown I made him out of the old covering to our easy
chair, staring at him with all his eyes, and with his old militia sword
in one hand, and the rushlight out of the shade in the other. On taking
a second look at the policeman, whose face I thought I remembered
somewhere, oh, heavens! if I didn’t know, by the size of his whiskers,
it was the impudent puppy who had winked at me over the parlour blinds.
And then, drat his impudence, if he didn’t turn his bull’s eye full upon
me in my nightcap, and this made me blink so, that positively I do
believe the fellow must have thought that I was winking at him. So I
pulled the curtains to, as quick as I could, and giving a slight scream,
I told Edward to go down stairs with the man that very moment, and make
our treasure of a footman get up and see whether the spoons and forks
were all right. He couldn’t have been gone five minutes, when back Mr.
Sk--n--st--n came, tearing up stairs, in a towering passion, with the
gratifying information that my treasure of a footman, who had stipulated
to go to church, at least twice every Sunday, and lived for the last
eighteen years with one of the bishops of the land, had gone off with
the

[Illustration: “_Do you know as your street-door is open?_”]

whole of our silver plate, and left nothing but that bilious-looking
“British” behind him.

Of course, Mr. Edward made out that it was all _my_ fault, and would
have it that if I’d had a grain of sense in my head, I might have seen
that the character was false, and the bishop’s lady a common
impostor--as, indeed, her reverend ladyship turned out. For when I went
after her the next day, to give it her well, I learnt that she, too, had
decamped from her lodgings the very same night as her inestimable
treasure of a Thompson, without paying the week’s rent, and leaving
nothing behind her but an empty rouge pot, and a hair trunk full of
brickbats.

I needn’t tell the reader, I suppose, that I never heard the last of
this; and positively, I was no sooner out of one scrape than, with so
many bothering servants about one, I was into another.

You see everybody worth speaking of had left town for the season, and as
I wouldn’t for the world have had it thought that I hadn’t gone for a
trip on the Continent, I was forced, owing to Mr. Edward’s stinginess,
and continual declarations that he was being ruined, to paper up the
drawing-room blinds, and shut up all the shutters in front, to make
believe that I was either at Paris, or Margate; while all the while I
was living at the back of the house, very nearly in the dark, and like a
vegetable had grown so white from mere want of light, that, positively,
my face had no more colour in it than a potatoe-shoot in a coal-cellar.
So, as my fine gentleman was taking his pleasure at the Warwick Assizes,
and wouldn’t give me his consent to leave London, why I started off one
fine morning without it, sending a letter for Mr. Edward, telling him
that I had gone down to Gravesend, and leaving word with the servants,
that I had gone up the Rhine. Then, packing up my carpet-bag and
bonnet-box, and luckily catching the “Father of the Thames” at
Hungerford-market, I jumped on it, and was soon at the end of my voyage.
But Mr. Edward--just like his mean spite--wouldn’t send me the money I
had written to him for; consequently, as lodgings were so high, and
those filthy, gassy shrimps so dear, and the donkey-boys so
extortionate, and I’d had enough of tea-parties at that stupid Windmill
Hill, and was tired of those twopenny-halfpenny fêtes at Rosherville
Gardens, and the housekeeping money I had brought with me was nearly
all gone--why, in a fit of disgust, one evening, I packed up my
carpet-bag and bonnet-box again, and putting myself on board the
sixpenny opposition steamer, was soon landed at London Bridge--though I
had expressly bargained with the cheats to take me on to Hungerford.

When I got home, I was astonished to see all the drawing-room shutters
of the house open, and such a blaze of light in the room, that if I
hadn’t known that Edward was still at the assizes, I should have
declared some one had been lighting up my chandelier and candelabras in
my absence. I went over to the other side of the way, and then, if I
didn’t see such a number of shadows, moving to and fro, on the blinds,
that I plainly perceived the room was full of company; and then I could
tell by the motions of one of the black things handing some article or
other to some one, who was drinking something, that a grand evening
party was going on in my first floor, without my knowing a word about
it. So I went to the door, and gave a gentle ring, so as not to alarm
the company. Presently it was opened by that scullery-maid dressed
out,--oh! you should have seen the thing--mercy! how she was dressed to
be sure! Directly she saw me, she made a rush towards the stairs, but
knowing by her dress and manner that something was wrong, I stopped her
by catching hold of the skirt of her trumpery shilling-a-yard crimson,
French poplin dress--with a broad satin stripe upon it, to make it look
rich--and, pulling it all out of the gathers so nicely, dragged the
tawdry, fal-lal minx into the back parlour, and turned the key upon her.
Then I crept on tip-toe up stairs to the drawing-room door, where I
stood listening to all that was going on within. “Will yer hallow me to
hoffer yer some of this ere am, Miss,” said what I could have sworn was
the young man at our grocer’s.--“You are very keyind, certingly, Mr.
Roberts,” said that grand affected bit-of-goods of my upper housemaid.
“Come, Miss Saunders,” said my footman, “you aint a doing nuffin; make
yerself at home, I beg. Will yer allow Mrs. Fisher to send yer just a
mouthful of her hexcellent kawphy.” “You’re very perlite, Mr. Heddard,”
answered that under nurserymaid, drat her; “since yer so pressing, I’ll
just try a wineglas of that there dog’s-nose, and then, if the kimpany
his hagreeable I’ll take the libbity of propogin a toast.” And

[Illustration: “_Oh! here’s Missus!_”]

when they had all answered, “Ho, yes, certingly,” the barefaced minx
said, “Here’s hold missus! and hopen has how her trip hup the Rhind will
keep her a good month longer at Gravesend.” And then, after a general
titter, I could hear them all getting up from their chairs, and saying
one after another, “Here’s hold missus!” and sure enough here’s hold
missus it was, for in I bounced among them just at that moment, and then
it was--“Oh dear, who would have thought it,”--and there was _such_ a
scene, no one can tell. Off fainted that under housemaid, right into the
arms of Mr. Roberts, and down went my glasses and decanters out of Mr.
“Heddard’s” hands, who endeavoured to hide himself under the table, and
then over it went; for up jumped Mrs. Fisher from her chair, upsetting
my best china tea set in her alarm, while some hid themselves behind the
door, and others behind the satin damask ottomans. Then away they all
slunk, first one and then another, whilst I was giving it to that Mrs.
Fisher, who had got her front fresh baked for the grand occasion. And
when I’d given _her_ notice to quit, I went down into the kitchen, and
did the same to _every one of them_ there, telling them they need none
of them expect any character from me.

On Mr. Edward’s arrival, which was just upon a fortnight afterwards, I
felt it my duty, of course, to let him know all that had occurred, and
what I had done; but my fine gentleman didn’t say a word, and only
walked whistling up and down the room; and when I told him that I
couldn’t make out what had come to servants now-a-days, for that, do
what I would, I could not get a good one, he had the impudence to turn
round and say, “No; and you never will, as long as you live, Madam.”

“And why shouldn’t I, Mr. Clever?” I inquired.

“Because, Mam, good mistresses make good servants.”

“Well, indeed!” I answered, “I do admire that. I should rather think it
was just the very reverse, and that good servants made good mistresses.
I suppose, then, you mean to say that I am not fit to have the
management of my own house!”

“I do, Caroline. Ah, you may stare; but management, as you call it, or
government, as I term it, is not quite so easy a science as you seem to
imagine. Every family is in itself a little kingdom, and it requires
almost as much knowledge to rule wisely in the one as in the other.”

“Very pretty!” I said. “Pray go on; perhaps you will tell me how I _am_
to govern, as _you_ call it?”

“Why, madam, there are but two ways. Human nature can only be ruled
through its love or through its fears. The one _leads_ our
fellow-creatures to serve us as _willing friends_, the other _forces_
them to serve us as _unwilling slaves_. It is for you and other
mistresses to choose between the two--remembering that it is the natural
disposition of kindness to beget kindness, and of tyranny to beget
rebellion?”

“Oh, indeed!” I replied. “Then I suppose you would like your system of
kindness carried out in the kitchen? and nicely they’d treat you for
it!”

“Indeed, I think not. At any rate, the stake is so little that it is
worth the risk; and I, for one, have such faith in the power of
kindness, _combined with firmness_, that though I don’t mean to say but
that you might occasionally meet with ingratitude, still that would
merely be the exception that proves the rule. The heart has been so
wonderfully constructed that it has not been left to us to choose
whether we would be thankful or not for benefits received; but gratitude
has been, made an animal instinct. The very dog likes the hand that
fosters it, and I do not think servants worse than dogs--though you and
many other ladies I know seem to do so. Do you not expect from your
domestics that they should consider your interest theirs, and yet you
forget that the first step in the process is to make their happiness
yours. How did they manage in the olden time? There was none of this
hubbub about bad servants then, and none of this continual changing and
changing; but the old servant’s son grew, like his father, to be grey in
the service of the same family. And why was this? Because he was looked
upon, and treated, and loved _like one of the family_.

“Very pretty talk,” I answered; “then, I dare say, you would like them
to come and sit down at the same table with us?”

“They did so then, in _many_ families, and certainly in _all_ families
of the same rank as our own. And what was the consequence? Why they
felt, as they ate at the same board, that they participated in the
comforts and property of their master, and consequently had the same
desire as he had to increase the one and protect the other.”

“Well, then,” I answered, “why not have yours up, and let them dine with
you every day, if you prefer their company to mine, for _I’m_ not going
to sit at the same table with them, I can tell you!”

“No, Caroline, society has so altered since the time I am speaking of,
that he who would endeavour to return to the old custom must be more
case-hardened against the world’s ridicule than I am. To be candid, I am
too much of a moral coward to be a moral Quixote. Society, as at present
constituted, is so based upon pride, vanity, and show, that the
principal struggle of life, in what is called the “genteel world,” is
how to trick your neighbour into the belief that you are twice as rich
as you really are--a species of moral swindling, or obtaining the
world’s estimation under false pretences. And what comes of all this?
Why, they who have but their three or four hundred a year must make it
appear to the world that they have a thousand, and all this by good
management, as it is termed--or in plainer words, by pinching the belly
to adorn their back.”

“Well, sir,” I stammered out, for I was getting in a
passion--“proceed--pray proceed--I’m quite interested with the rubbish.”

“As I was saying, then, Madam, we put ourselves to all kinds of
unnecessary expense to gain the good opinion of mere acquaintances and
comparative strangers, who don’t care a snap of the fingers for us; and
in order to do this, and “make both ends meet,” as we call it, we stint
ourselves, and those about us, of a thousand little luxuries which would
make home dear and happy, wholly regardless of either the feelings or
the esteem of those who live under the same roof with ourselves, and
whose affection can add so much to our comfort.”

“Oh, yes, certainly,” I added; “I’m perfectly of your opinion,--let the
servants do just as they please,--and a deal of comfort at home we
should have then.”

“_Your_ fault, and the fault of many other ladies I could name, is, that
you have your servants--like your furniture--for _show_--though--unlike
your furniture--you don’t think you can _spoil them_, however much you
_use_ them. And then you wonder that they don’t treat you with respect,
but take every advantage they can of you. You carry out your contract
to the mere dry letter with them, and yet are continually grumbling
because they don’t carry out theirs to the spirit with you. Only let
mistresses be kind--_yet firm_ with their servants, and at the same time
speak the whole truth, and nothing but the truth of them, to one
another, and depend upon it, the laws of mere human nature are such,
that servants--with few exceptions--will be willing, obedient, and
devoted to them.”

Then my fine philosopher, having concluded his moral lecture, went on
telling me, first, that my love of display had ruined him; and next,
that he had made up his mind to turn over a new leaf, and to cut down a
few of the showy-extravagances at home, instead of beggaring himself for
the sake of my mere acquaintances; and lastly, that the first step he
intended to take was to reduce the eight servants he had in his house to
two at the most.

“Then all I can say is, sir,” I replied, “that you must get rid of me
also; for I’m not going to stop in it, sir, I can tell you, to be
pointed at by the whole world as a lady who had once kept her eight
servants, and now can only afford to keep her two.”

And the only reply the brute made me was, “That I might do as I
pleased.”--“Indeed!” said I to myself, “I see what it is, my grand Turk;
I must read you another part of my strong lessons, and if I don’t have
you down on your knees for all this, why my name’s not Sk--n--st--n.”
So, what did I do, but I rose from my chair in a most stately way, and
looking divorces, or at least separate maintenances, at him, I marched
out of the room as dignified as a drum-major. Having written a very
strong letter to the monster, telling him that his ill-treatment had
driven me to dear, dear respected mother’s, and that I hoped and trusted
he wouldn’t come after me, as I now really, positively, and truly, _had_
left him “FOR EVER,” I was no sooner out of the door than I began to
repent of what I had done, for I remembered mother’s maxim, that
husbands never came after their wives twice, and I was even doubtful how
she would receive me under the circumstances. Sure enough, too, I didn’t
meet with the welcome from her that she gave me on the previous
occasion; and drat it! if, after a week had elapsed, and no Mr.
Sk--n--st--n had come, she didn’t tell me I had better go back. But I
told her, “I wouldn’t go near the place--no, not for the whole
world--for fear he should see me;” adding that, as all the servants were
going at the end of the month, he’d be sure to come and fetch me when he
was left alone in the house, and _wanted me_ to get him some more.” Oh!
they are so selfish, these men.

After three weeks had gone by, and still no Mr. Sk--n--st--n, mother
told me that the thing looked very serious, and said, “she would go
round to Edward with me, and either force him to take me back, or make
me a handsome allowance; for, to tell the truth, she couldn’t afford to
keep me any longer, unless she was paid for it.”

When we got to our villa, what should I see, the very first thing, but
my beautiful stair-carpets hanging out of window, with a large
auctioneer’s bill pasted on them, announcing that all our costly
furniture, together with the valuable lease of our desirable premises,
was to be sold “without reserve” that very day, at that very hour; and
when I went into the place, I declare if all the carpets and oil-cloths
hadn’t been taken up, and all the things ticketed, and huddled together
in confusion, while the drawing-room was as full of Jew brokers as it
could hold, “foohing” away enough to knock one down.

In my stupid way, I had been overdoing it again; for, on making
inquiries, I found that Mr. Edward, disgusted at being left alone in
that great big house, without even a wife or a servant to wait upon him,
and, moreover, having received a letter from Mrs. Y--pp, his
mother-in-law No. 2, saying that she purposed, at Christmas, coming to
spend another month with her “dear boy, at his beautiful villa,” had
rushed off and taken up his residence in a common boarding house in
G--ldf--rd St--t, R--ss--ll Sq--re, n--r the F--ndl--ng H--sp--t--l,
where I am at present staying, and where I intend to stay so long as Mr.
Edward does, for if I leave him again, “FOR EVER,” my name’s not

    C--R--L--NE SK--N--ST--N,
    Late of Duvernay Villa,
    P--rk V--ll--ge, R--g--nt’s P--rk.

P.S. I stop the press to announce that Mr. Sk--n--st--n has just got
hold of an early copy of this book, and oh! Lord-a-mercy me! I’m a
ruined woman!




LIST OF PLATES.


THE GREATEST PLAGUE OF ONE’S LIFE     _Frontispiece_.

“ARE YOU NOT IRISH?”                        page 47

“THE CAT DID IT!”                                60

FOLLOWERS                                        91

“IT’S MY COUSIN, MA’AM!”                         95

GOING OUT FOR A HOLIDAY                         125

THE MORNING GOSSIP                              182

THE SENTIMENTAL NOVEL READER                    214

OUT FOR AN AIRING                               238

“OH, AH! LET ’EM RING AGAIN!”                   263

“DO YOU KNOW AS YOUR STREET DOOR IS OPEN?”      278

“OH! HERE’S MISSUS!”                            281


T. C. Savill, Printer, 4, Chandos-street, Covent-garden.


FOOTNOTES:

[A] I give the name of this deceitful creature in full, as it cannot
possibly hurt the feelings of any of my friends.

[B] See “The Castle Fiend,” nearly at the bottom of page 3.

[C] See the same powerfully-written penny romance, same page.