 Chapter 7 of Tales from Sketches by Boz. The Steam Excursion Mr. Percy Noakes was a law student inhabiting a set of chambers on the fourth floor in one of those houses in Grayson Square which command an extensive view of the gardens and their usual adjuncts, flaunting nursery-mates and town-made children with parenthetical legs. Mr. Percy Noakes was what is generally termed a devilish good fellow. He had a large circle of acquaintance, and seldom dined at his own expense. He used to talk politics to papas, flatter the vanity of mamars, do the amiable to their daughters, make pleasure engagements with their sons, and romp with the younger branches. Like those paragons of perfection, advertising footmen out of place, he was always willing to make himself generally useful. If any old lady whose son was in India gave a ball, Mr. Percy Noakes was master of the If any young lady made a stolen match, Mr. Percy Noakes gave her away. If a juvenile wife presented her husband with a blooming cherub, Mr. Percy Noakes was either godfather or deputy godfather. And if any member of a friend's family died, Mr. Percy Noakes was invariably to be seen in the second morning-coach, with a white handkerchief to his eyes, sobbing to use his own appropriate and expressive description, like winking. It may readily be imagined that these numerous avocations were rather calculated to interfere with Mr. Percy Noakes' professional studies. Mr. Percy Noakes was perfectly aware of the fact, and had therefore, after mature reflection, made up his mind not to study at all, a laudable determination to which he adhered in the most praiseworthy manner. His sitting-room presented a strange chaos of dress-gloves, boxing-gloves, caricatures, albums, invitation cards, foils, crooked bats, cardboard drawings, paste gum, and fifty other miscellaneous articles, heaped together in the strangest confusion. He was always making something for somebody, or planning some party of pleasure, which was his great forte. He invariably spoke with astonishing rapidity, was smart, spoffish, and eight-and-twenty. Splendid idea upon my life! Solila inquires Mr. Percy Noakes over his morning-coffee, as his mind reverted to a suggestion which had been thrown out on the previous night, by a lady at whose house he had spent the evening. Glorious idea! Mrs. Stubbs! Yes, sir? replied a dirty old woman with an inflamed countenance emerging from the bedroom with a barrel of dirt and cinders. This was the lawn-dress. Did you call, sir? Oh, Mrs. Stubbs! I'm going out. If that tailor should call again, you'd better say I'm out of town, and shalt be back for a fortnight, and if that boot-maker should come tell him I've lost his address, or I'd have sent him that little amount. Mind he writes it down, and if Mr. Hardie should call, you know Mr. Hardie. The funny gentleman, sir. Ah, the funny gentleman! If Mr. Hardie should call, say I'd gone to Mrs. Taunton's about that water-party. Yes, sir. And if any fellow calls and says he's come about a steamer, tell him to be here at five o'clock this afternoon, Mrs. Stubbs. Very well, sir. Mr. Percy Noakes brushed his hat, whisked the crumbs off his inexpressibles with a silk handkerchief, gave the ends of his hair a persuasive roll round his forefinger, and salied forth from Mrs. Taunton's domicile in Great Marlborough Street, where she and her daughters occupied the upper part of the house. She was a good-looking widow of fifty, with the form of a giantess and the mind of a child. The pursuit of pleasure and some means of killing time was a sole end of her existence. She doted on her daughters who were as frivolous as herself. A general exclamation of satisfaction hailed the arrival of Mr. Percy Noakes, who went through the ordinary salutations, and threw himself into an easy chair near the lady's work-table, with the ease of a regularly established friend of the family. Mrs. Taunton was busily engaged in planting immense bright bones on every part of a smart cap on which it was possible to stick one. Miss Emily Taunton was making a watch-guard. Miss Sophia was at the piano, practising a new song, poetry by the young officer or the police officer or the custom-house officer or some other interesting amateur. "'You good creature,' said Mrs. Taunton, addressing the gallant Percy, "'you really are a good soul. You've come about the water-party, I know.' "'I should rather suspect I had,' replied Mr. Noakes triumphantly. "'Now, come here, girls, and I'll tell you all about it.' Miss Emily and Miss Sophia advanced to the table. "'Now,' continued Mr. Percy Noakes, "'it seems to me that the best way will be to have a committee of ten to make all the arrangements and manage the whole set-up. Then I propose that the expenses shall be paid by these ten fellows jointly.' "'Excellent indeed,' said Mrs. Taunton, who highly approved of this part of the arrangements. "'Then my plan is that each of these ten fellows shall have the power of asking five people. There must be a meeting of the committee at my chambers to make all the arrangements, and these people shall be then named. Every member of the committee shall have the power of blackballing any one who is proposed, and one blackball shall exclude that person. This will ensure our having a pleasant party, you know.' "'What a manager you are,' interrupted Mrs. Taunton again. "'Charming,' said the lovely Emily. "'I never did,' ejaculated Sophia. "'Yes, I think it'll do,' replied Mr. Percy Noakes, who was now quite in his element. "'I think it'll do. Then, you know, it shall go down to the Norandback and have a regular capital-code dinner laid out in the cabin before we start, so that everything may be ready without any confusion, and we shall have the lunch laid out on deck in those little tea-garden-looking concerns by the paddle-boxes. I don't know what you call them. Then we shall hire a steamer expressly for our party and a band, and have the deck chalked, and we shall be able to dance quadrilles all day, and then, whoever we know that's musical, you know, why they'll make themselves useful and agreeable, and, upon the whole, I really hope we shall have a glorious day, you know.' The announcement of these arrangements was received with the utmost enthusiasm. Mrs. Taunton, Emily, and Sophia were loud in their praises. "'Well, but tell me, Percy,' said Mrs. Taunton. "'Who are the ten gentlemen to be?' "'Oh, I know plenty of fellows who'll be delighted with a scheme,' replied Mr. Percy Noakes. "'Of course we shall have—' "'Mr. Hardy,' interrupted the servant announcing a visitor. Mr. Fire and Miss Emily hastily assumed the most interesting attitudes that could be adopted on so short a notice. "'How are you?' said a stout gentleman of about forty, pausing at the door in the attitude of an awkward harlequin. This was Mr. Hardy, whom we have before described on the authority of Mrs. Stubbs, as the funny gentleman. He was an astly cooperish Joe Miller, a practical joker immensely popular with married ladies, and a general favourite with young men. He was always engaged in some pleasure-excursion or other, and delighted in getting somebody into a scrape on such occasions. He could sing comic songs, imitate Hackney Coachman and Fowles, play airs on his chin, and execute conchettos on the Jew's harp. He always ate and drank most immoderately, and was the bosom friend of Mr. Percy Noakes. He had a red face, a somewhat husky voice, and a tremendous laugh. "'How are you?' said this worthy laughing, as if it were the finest joke in the world to make a morning call, and shaking hands with the ladies with as much vehemence as if their arms had been so many pump-handles. "'You're just the very man I wanted!' said Mr. Percy Noakes, who proceeded to explain the cause of his being in requisition. Shouted Hardy after hearing the statement, and receiving a detailed account of the proposed excursion. "'Oh, oh, capital! Glorious! What a day it will be! What fun! But I say, when you're going to begin making the arrangements.' "'No time, like the present, at once, if you please.' "'Who charming!' cried the ladies. "'Pray do!' Writing materials were laid before Mr. Percy Noakes, and the names of the different members of the committee were agreed on, after as much discussion between him and Mr. Hardy as if the fate of nations had depended on their appointment. It was then agreed that a meeting should take place at Mr. Percy Noakes's chambers on the ensuing Wednesday evening at eight o'clock, and the visitors departed. Wednesday evening arrived, eight o'clock came, and eight members of the committee were punctual in their attendance. Mr. Loggins, the solicitor of Boswell Court, sent an excuse, and Mr. Samuel Briggs, the ditto of Fernival's Inn, sent his brother, much to his—the brother's—satisfaction, and greatly to the discomforture of Mr. Percy Noakes. Between the Briggs's and the Taunton's there existed a degree of implacable hatred, quite unprecedented. The animosity between the Montagues and Capulets was nothing to that which prevailed between these two illustrious houses. Mrs. Briggs was a widow with three daughters and two sons. Mr. Samuel, the eldest, was an attorney, and Mr. Alexander, the youngest, was under articles to his brother. They resided in Portland Street, Oxford Street, and moved in the same orbit as the Taunton's, hence their mutual dislike. If the Miss Briggs's appeared in smart bonnets, the Miss Taunton's eclipsed them with smarter. If Mrs. Taunton appeared in a cap of all the hues of the rainbow, Mrs. Briggs, forthwith, mounted a toke with all the patterns of the kaleidoscope. If Miss Sophia Taunton learned a new song, two of the Miss Briggs's came out with a new duet. The Taunton's had once gained a temporary triumph with the assistance of a harp, but the Briggs's brought three guitars into the field and effectually routed the enemy. There was no end to the rivalry between them. Now, as Mr. Samuel Briggs was a mere machine, a sort of self-acting legal walking stick, and as the party was known to have originated, however remotely, with Mrs. Taunton, the female branches of the Briggs family had arranged that Mr. Alexander should attend instead of his brother. And as the said Mr. Alexander was deservedly celebrated for possessing all the pertinacity of a bankruptcy court attorney, combined with the obstinacy of that useful animal which browses on the thistle, he required but little tuition. He was especially enjoined to make himself as disagreeable as possible and above all, to blackball the Taunton's at every hazard. The proceedings of the evening were opened by Mr. Percy Noakes. After successfully urging on the gentleman present the propriety of their mixing some brandy and water, he briefly stated the object of the meeting, and concluded by observing that the first step must be the selection of a chairman, necessarily possessing some arbitrary he trusted not unconstitutional powers, to whom the personal direction of the whole of the arrangements, subject to the approval of the committee, should be confided. A pale young gentleman in a green stock and spectacles of the same, a member of the honorable society of the inner temple, immediately rose for the purpose of proposing Mr. Percy Noakes. He had known him long, and this he would say, that a more honourable, a more excellent, or a better-hearted fellow never existed. Here, here! The young gentleman, who was a member of a debating society, took this opportunity of entering into an examination of the state of the English law from the days of William the Conqueror down to the present period. He briefly adverted to the code established by the ancient Druids, slightly glanced at the principles laid down by the Athenian law-givers, and concluded with the most glowing eulogium on picnics and constitutional rights. Mr. Alexander Briggs opposed the motion. He had the highest esteem for Mr. Percy Noakes as an individual, but he did consider that he ought not to be entrusted with these immense powers. Oh, ho! He believed that in the proposed capacity Mr. Percy Noakes would not act fairly, impartially, or honourably. But he begged it to be distinctly understood that he said this without the slightest personal disrespect. Mr. Hardy defended his honourable friend in a voice rendered partially unintelligible by emotion and brandy and water. The proposition was put to the vote, and there appearing to be only one dissentant voice, Mr. Percy Noakes was declared duly elected, and took the chair accordingly. The business of the meeting now proceeded with rapidity. The chairman delivered in his estimate of the probable expense of the excursion, and every one present subscribed his portion thereof. The question was put that the endeavour be hired for the occasion. Mr. Alexander Briggs moved as an amendment that the word fly be substituted for the word endeavour, but after some debate consented to withdraw his opposition. The important ceremony of balloting then commenced. A tea-caddy was placed on a table in a dark corner of the apartment, and every one was provided with two backgammon men, one black and one white. The chairman, with great solemnity, then read the following list of the guests whom he proposed to introduce. Mrs. Taunton and two daughters, Mr. Whistle, Mr. Simpson, the names were respectively balloted for, and Mrs. Taunton and her daughters were declared to be blackboard. Mr. Percy Noakes and Mr. Hardy exchanged glances. Is your list prepared, Mr. Briggs? inquired the chairman. It is, replied Alexander, delivering in the following. Mrs. Briggs and three daughters, Mr. Samuel Briggs. The previous ceremony was repeated, and Mrs. Briggs and three daughters were declared to be blackboard. Mr. Alexander Briggs looked rather foolish, and the remainder of the company appeared somewhat over-awed by the mysterious nature of the proceedings. The balloting proceeded, but one little circumstance which Mr. Percy Noakes had not originally foreseen, prevented the system from working quite as well as he had anticipated. Everybody was blackboard. Mr. Alexander Briggs, by way of retaliation, exercised his power of exclusion in every instance, and the result was that after three hours had been consumed in hard balloting, the names of only three gentlemen were found to have been agreed to. In this dilemma, what was to be done? Either the whole plan must fall to the ground, or a compromise must be effected. The latter alternative was preferable, and Mr. Percy Noakes therefore proposed that the form of balloting should be dispensed with, and that every gentleman should merely be required to state whom he intended to bring. The proposal was exceeded to, the tauntons and the Briggs's were reinstated, and the party was formed. The next Wednesday was fixed for the eventful day, and it was unanimously resolved that every member of the committee should wear a piece of blue sarsenit ribbon round his left arm. It appeared from the statement of Mr. Percy Noakes that the boat belonged to the General Steam Navigation Company, and was then lying off the Custom House, and as he proposed that the dinner and wines should be provided by an eminent city purveyor, it was arranged that Mr. Percy Noakes should be on board by seven o'clock to superintend the arrangements, and that the remaining members of the committee, together with the company generally, should be expected to join her by nine o'clock. More brandy and water was dispatched. Several speeches were made by the different law students present, thanks were voted to the chairman, and the meeting separated. The weather had been beautiful up to this period, and beautiful it continued to be. Sunday passed over, and Mr. Percy Noakes became unusually fidgety, rushing constantly to and from the steam-packet wharf to the astonishment of the clerks and the great emolument of the Holborn Cadman. Tuesday arrived, and the anxiety of Mr. Percy Noakes knew no bounds. He was every instant running to the window to look out for clouds, and Mr. Hardy astonished the whole square by practising a new comic song for the occasion in the chairman's chambers. Uneasy were the slumbers of Mr. Percy Noakes that night, he tossed and tumbled about, and had confused dreams of steamers starting off, and gigantic clocks with the hands pointing to a quarter-past nine, and the ugly face of Mr. Alexander Briggs looking over the boat's side and grinning as if in derision of his fruitless attempts to move. He made a violent effort to get on board and awoke. The bright sun was shining cheerfully into the bedroom, and Mr. Percy Noakes started up for his watch in the dreadful expectation of finding his worst dreams realised. It was just five o'clock. He calculated the time. He should be a good half hour dressing himself, and as it was a lovely morning and the tide would be then running down, he would walk leisurely to Strand Lane, and have a boat to the Custom House. He dressed himself, took a hasty apology for a breakfast, and sallied forth. The streets looked as lonely and deserted as if they had been crowded overnight for the last time. Here and there an early apprentice with quench-looking sleepy eyes was taking down the shutters of a shop, and a policeman or milkwoman might occasionally be seen pacing slowly along, but the servants had not yet begun to clean the doors or light the kitchen fires, and London looked the picture of desolation. At the corner of a by-street near Temple Bar was stationed a street breakfast. The coffee was boiling over a charcoal fire, and large slices of bread and butter were piled one upon the other, like deals in a timber-yard. The company were seated on a form, which, with a view both to security and comfort, was placed against a neighbouring wall. Two young men, whose uproarious mirth and disordered dress bespoke the conviviality of the preceding evening, were treating three ladies and an Irish labourer. A little sweep was standing at a short distance, casting a longing eye at the tempting delicacies, and the policeman was watching the group from the opposite side of the street. The one looks and gaudy finery of the thinly-clad women contrasted as strangely with the gay sunlight, as did their forced merriment with the boisterous hilarity of the two young men, who none then varied their amusements by bonneting the proprietor of this itinerant coffee-house. Mr. Percy Nokes walked briskly by, and when he turned down the strand lane and caught a glimpse of the glistening water, he thought he had never felt so important or so happy in his life. Boutser cried one of the three watermen who were mopping out their boats and all whistling. About sir? No, replied Mr. Percy Nokes rather sharply, for the inquiry was not made in a manner at all suitable to his dignity. Would you prefer a whistle, sir? inquired another, to the infinite delight of the jack-in-the-water. Mr. Percy Nokes replied with a look of supreme contempt. Did you want to be put on board a steamer, sir? inquired an old fireman waterman very confidentially. He was dressed in a faded red suit, just the colour of the cover of a very old court-guide. Yes, make haste, the endeavour of the custom-house. Endeavour! cried the man who had convulsed the jack before. Why, I see the endeavour go up half an hour ago. So did I, said another, and I shall think she had gone down by this time, for she's a precious sight to full of ladies and gentlemen. Mr. Percy Nokes affected to disregard these representations, and stepped into the boat, which the old man, by dint of scrambling and shoving and grating, had brought up to the causeway. Shover off! cried Mr. Percy Nokes, and away the boat glided down the river. Mr. Percy Nokes seated on the recently mopped seat, and the waterman at the stairs offering to bet him any reasonable sum that he'd never reached the custom-house. Here she is, by Jove! said the delighted Percy, as they ran alongside the endeavour. Hold hard! cried the steward over the side, and Mr. Percy Nokes jumped on board. Hope you'll find everything as you wished, sir. She looks uncommon well this morning. She does indeed! replied the manager, in a state of ecstasy which it is impossible to describe. The deck was scrubbed, and the seats were scrubbed, and there was a bench for the band, and a place for dancing, and a pile of camp stools, and an awning. And then Mr. Percy Nokes bustled down below, and there were the pastry-cooks men, and the steward's wife, laying out the dinner on two tables, the whole length of the cabin. And then Mr. Percy Nokes took off his coat, and rushed backwards and forwards, doing nothing but quite convinced he was assisting everybody. And the steward's wife laughed till she cried, and Mr. Percy Nokes panted with the violence of his exertions. And then the bell at London Bridge wharf rang, and a Margate boat was just starting, and the Graves End boat was just starting, and people shouted, and porters ran down the steps with luggage that would crush any men but porters. And sloping boards with bits of wood nailed on them were placed between the outside boat and the inside boat, and the passengers ran along them, and looked like so many fowls coming out of an area. And then the bell ceased, and the boards were taken away, and the boat started, and the whole steam was one of the most delightful bustle and confusion. The time wore on, half-past eight o'clock arrived, the pastry-cook's men went ashore, the dinner was completely laid out, and Mr. Percy Nokes locked the principal cabin, and put the key in his pocket, in order that it might be suddenly disclosed in all its magnificence to the eyes of the astonished company. The band came on board, and so did the wine. Ten minutes to nine, and the committee embarked in a body. There was Mr. Hardy in a blue jacket and waistcoat, white trousers, silk stockings, and pumps, in full aquatic costume, with a straw hat on his head, and an immense telescope under his arm. And there was the young gentleman with the green spectacles in nankine inexplicables, with a ditto waistcoat and bright buttons, like the pictures of Paul, not the saint but he of Virginia notoriety. The remainder of the committee dressed in white hats, light jackets, waistcoats, and trousers looked something between waiters and West India planters. Nine o'clock struck, and the company arrived in shoals. Mr. Samuel Briggs, Mrs. Briggs, and the Mrs. Briggs made their appearance in a smart private wary. The three guitars in their respective dark green cases were carefully stowed away in the bottom of the boat, accompanied by two immense portfolios of music, which it would take at least a week's incessant playing to get through. The Taunton's arrived at the same moment with more music and a lion, a gentleman with a bass voice and an incipient red moustache. The colours of the Taunton party were pink, those of the Briggs's a light blue. The Taunton's had artificial flowers in their bonnets. Here the Briggs's gained a decided advantage. They wore feathers. How did you, dear? said the Mrs. Briggs to the Mrs. Taunton. The word dear among girls is frequently synonymous with, wretch. Quite well, thank you, dear, replied the Mrs. Taunton to the Mrs. Briggs. And then there was such a kissing and congratulating and shaking of hands, as might have induced one to suppose that the two families were the best friends in the world, instead of each wishing the other overboard, as they most sincerely did. Mr. Percy Nokes received the visitors and bowed to the strange gentleman, as if he should like to know who he was. This was just what Mrs. Taunton wanted. Here was an opportunity to astonish the Briggs's. Oh, I beg your pardon, said the general of the Taunton party with a careless air. Captain Helves! Mr. Percy Nokes! Mrs. Briggs! Captain Helves! Mr. Percy Nokes bowed very low. The gallant Captain did the same with all due ferocity, and the Briggs's were clearly overcome. Our friend Mr. Whistle, being unfortunately prevented from coming, resumed Mrs. Taunton. I did myself the pleasure of bringing the Captain, whose musical talents I knew would be a great acquisition. In the name of the committee, I have to thank you for doing so, and to offer you welcome, replied Percy. Here the scraping was renewed. But may be seated, won't you walk after? Captain, will you conduct Miss Taunton, Miss Briggs, will you allow me? Where could they have picked up that military man? Inquired Mrs. Briggs of Miss Kate Briggs as they followed the little party. I can't imagine, replied Miss Kate, bursting with vexation, for the very fierce air with which the gallant Captain regarded the company had impressed her with a high sense of his importance. Boat after boat came alongside, and guest after guest arrived. The invites had been excellently arranged. Mr. Percy Nokes, having considered it as important that the number of young men should exactly tally with that of the young ladies, as that the quantity of knives on board should be in precise proportion to the forks. Now, is everyone on board? inquired Mr. Percy Nokes. The committee, who with their bits of blue ribbon looked as if they were all going to be bled, bustled about to ascertain the fact, and reported that they might safely start. Go on! cried the master of the boat from the top of one of the paddle-boxes. Go on! echoed the boy, who was stationed over the hatchway to pass the directions down to the engineer, and away went the vessel, with that agreeable noise which is peculiar to steamers, and which is composed of a mixture of creaking, gushing, clanging, and snorting. Aye, aye, aye, aye, aye, aye, aye! shouted half a dozen voices from a boat a quarter of a mile astern. Aye, sir! cried the captain. Do these people belong to us, sir? Nokes! exclaimed Hardy, who had been looking at every object far and near through the large telescope. It's the Fleetwoods and the Wakefields, and two children with them by jove. What a shame to bring children! said everybody, how very inconsiderate. I say it would be a good joke to pretend not to see them, wouldn't it? suggested Hardy to the immense delight of the company generally. A council of war was hastily held, and it was resolved that the newcomers should be taken on board, on Mr. Hardy's solemnly pledging himself to tease the children during the whole of the day. Stopper! cried the captain. Stopper! repeated the boy. Wiz went the steam, and all the young ladies, as in duty bound, screamed in concert. They were only appeased by the assurance of the Marshal Helves, that the escape of steam consequent on stopping a vessel was seldom attended with any great loss of human life. Two men ran to the side, and after some shouting and swearing and angling for the query with a boat-hook, Mr. Fleetwood and Mrs. Fleetwood and Master Fleetwood, and Mr. Wakefield and Mrs. Wakefield and Miss Wakefield were safely deposited on the deck. The girl was about six years old, the boy about four. The former was dressed in a white frock with a pink sash and dog-seared-looking little Spencer, a straw bonnet and green veil, six inches by three and a half. The latter was attired for the occasion in a nanking frock, between the bottom of which and the top of his plaid socks, a considerable portion of two small mottled legs was discernible. He had a light blue cap with a gold band and tussle on his head, and a damp piece of gingerbread in his hand, with which he had slightly embossed his countenance. The boat once more started off. The band played off she goes, that major part of the company conversed cheerfully in groups, and the old gentleman walked up and down the deck in pairs, as perseveringly and gravely as if they were doing a match against time for an immense stake. They ran briskly down the pool. The gentleman pointed out the docks, the Thames' police office, and other elegant public edifices, and the young ladies exhibited a proper display of horror at the appearance of the coal whippers and ballast heavers. Mr. Hardy told stories to the married ladies, at which they laughed very much in their pocket handkerchiefs, and hit him on the knuckles with their fans, declaring him to be a naughty man, a shocking creature, and so forth. And Captain Helves gave slight descriptions of battles and duels with a most bloodthirsty air, which made him the admiration of the women and the envy of the men. Quadrilling commenced, Captain Helves danced one set with Miss Emily Taunton and another set with Miss Sophia Taunton. Mrs. Taunton was in ecstasies. The victory appeared to be complete. But alas, the inconstancy of man! Having performed this necessary duty, he attached himself solely to Miss Julia Briggs, with whom he danced no less than three sets consecutively, and from whom aside he evinced no intention of stirring for the remainder of the day. Mr. Hardy, having played one or two very brilliant fantasies on the Jew's harp, and having frequently repeated the exquisitely amusing joke of slyly chalking a large cross on the back of some member of the committee, Mr. Percy Noakes expressed his hope that some of their musical friends would oblige the company by a display of their abilities. Perhaps, he said in a very insinuating manner, Captain Helves will oblige us? Mrs. Taunton's countenance lighted up, for the captain only sang duets, and couldn't sing them with anybody but one of her daughters. Really? said that warlike individual. I should be very happy, but— Oh, pray do! cried all the young ladies. Miss Emily, have you any objection to joining a duet? Oh, not the slightest! returned the young lady in a tone which clearly showed she had the greatest possible objection. Shall I accompany you, dear? inquired one of the Miss Briggs' with the bland intention of spoiling the effect. Very much obliged you, Miss Briggs! sharply retorted Mrs. Taunton, who saw through the manoeuvre. My daughters always sing without accompaniments. And without voices, tittered Mrs. Briggs in a low tone. Perhaps! said Mrs. Taunton, reddening, for she guessed the tenor of the observation, though she had not heard it clearly. Perhaps it would be as well for some people, if their voices were not quite so audible as they are to other people. And perhaps, if gentlemen who are kidnapped to pay attention to some person's daughters had not sufficient discernment to pay attention to other person's daughters, returned Mrs. Briggs. Some persons would not be so ready to display that ill temper which, thank God, distinguishes them from other persons. Persons! ejaculated Mrs. Taunton. Persons! replied Mrs. Briggs. Insolence! creature! Hush, hush! interrupted Mr. Percy Noakes, who was one of the very few by whom this dialogue had been overheard. Hush! please, silent for the duet! After a great deal of preparatory crowing and humming, the captain began the following duet from the opera of Paul and Virginia, in that grunting tone in which a man gets down heaven-nose-wear, without the remotest chance of ever getting up again. This, in private circles, is frequently designated a bass voice. See, sung the captain, from ocean-rising bright flames, the o'er of day, from yon grove, the varied songs. Here the singer was interrupted by varied cries of the most dreadful description, proceeding from some grove in the immediate vicinity of the starboard paddle-box. My child! screamed Mrs. Fleetwood. My child! it is his voice! I know it! Mr. Fleetwood, accompanied by several gentlemen, here rushed to the quarter from whence the noise proceeded, and an exclamation of horror burst from the company. The general impression being that the little innocent had either got his head in the water or his legs in the machinery. What is the matter? shouted the agonised father as he returned with the child in his arms. Screamed the small sufferer again. What is the matter, dear? inquired the father once more hastily stripping off the nankine frock for the purpose of attaining whether the child had one bone which was not smashed to pieces. Oh! I am so frightened! What had, dear? what had? said the mother, soothing the sweet infant. Oh! he's been making such dreadful faces at me! cried the boy, relaxing into convulsions at the bare recollection. He hee-hoo! cried everybody, crowding round him. Oh! him! replied the child, pointing at Hardy, who affected to be the most concerned of the whole group. The real state of the case at once flashed upon the minds of all present, with the exception of the Fleetwoods and the Wakefields. The facetious Hardy, in fulfilment of his promise, had watched the child to a remote part of the vessel, and suddenly appearing before him with the most awful contortions of visage, had produced his paroxysm of terror. Of course, he now observed that it was hardly necessary for him to deny the accusation, and the unfortunate little victim was accordingly led below after receiving sundry thumps on the head from both his parents for having the wickedness to tell a story. This little interruption having been adjusted, the Captain resumed, and Miss Emily chimed in in due course. The duet was loudly applauded, and certainly the perfect independence of the parties deserved great commendation. Miss Emily sung her part without the slightest reference to the Captain, and the Captain sang so loud that he had not the slightest idea what was being done by his partner. After having gone through the last few eighteen or nineteen bars by himself, therefore, he acknowledged the plaudits of the circle with that air of self-denial, which men usually assume when they think they have done something to astonish the company. Now, said Mr. Percy Noakes, who had just ascended from the fore-cabin, where he had been busily engaged in decanting the wine. If the Mrs. Briggs would oblige us for something before dinner, I am sure he shall be very much delighted. One of those hums of admiration followed the suggestion, which one frequently hears in society when nobody has the most distant notion what he is expressing his approval of. The three Mrs. Briggs looked modestly at their mama, and the mama looked approvingly at her daughters, and Mrs. Taunton looked scornfully at all of them. The Mrs. Briggs asked for their guitars, and several gentlemen seriously damaged the cases in their anxiety to present them. Then there was a very interesting production of three little keys for the aforesaid cases, and a melodramatic expression of horror at finding a string broken, and a vast deal of screwing and tightening and winding and tuning, during which Mrs. Briggs expatiated to those near her on the immense difficulty of playing a guitar, and hinted at the wondrous proficiency of her daughters in that mystic art. Mrs. Taunton whispered to a neighbour that it was quite sickening, and the Mrs. Taunton looked as if they knew how to play, but disdained to do it. At length the Mrs. Briggs began in real earnest. It was a new Spanish composition for three voices and three guitars. The effect was electrical. All eyes were turned upon the captain who was reported to have once passed through Spain with his regiment, and who must be well acquainted with the national music. He was enraptured. This was sufficient. The trio was encored, the applause was universal, and never had the Taunton's suffered such a complete defeat. Bravo! Bravo! ejaculated the captain. Bravo! Pretty, isn't it, sir? inquired Mr. Samuel Briggs with the air of a self-satisfied showman. By the by these were the first words he had been heard to utter since he left Boswell Court the evening before. Delightful! returned the captain with a flourish and a military cough. Delightful! Sweet instrument! said an old gentleman with a bald head, who had been trying all the morning to look through a telescope, inside the glass of which Mr. Hardy had fixed a large black wafer. Did you ever hear a Portuguese tambourine? inquired that jocular individual. Did you ever hear a tom-tom, sir? sternly inquired the captain, who lost no opportunity of showing off his travels real or pretended. Oh, what? asked Hardy rather taken aback. A tom-tom? Never! nor a gum-gum? Never! What is a gum-gum? eagerly inquired several young ladies. When I was in the East Indies replied the captain. Here was a discovery. He had been in the East Indies. When I was in the East Indies I was once stopping a few thousand miles up the country on a visit at the house of a very particular friend of mine, Ram Chowder Dos Azulfal Bala, a devilish pleasant fellow. As we were enjoying our hookers one evening in the cool verandrum in front of his villa, we were rather surprised by the sudden appearance of thirty-four of his kit-ma-gas, for he had rather a large establishment there. I accompanied by an equal number of consul-mars, approaching the house with a threatening aspect, and beating a tom-tom. The Ram started up. Oh, inquired the bald gentleman, intensely interested. The Ram ran Chowder. Oh, said the old gentleman, beg your pardon, pray go on. Started up and drew a pistol. Helves said he, my boy. He always called me my boy. Helves said he, do you hear that tom-tom? I do, said I. His countenance, which before was pale, assumed a most frightful appearance. His whole visage was distorted and his frame shaken by violent emotions. Do you see that gum-gum? said he. No, said I, staring about me. You don't, said he. No, I'll be damned if I do, said I. And what's more, I don't know what a gum-gum is, said I. I really thought the Ram would have dropped. He drew me aside, and with an expression of agony I shall never forget, said in a low whisper. Dinner's on the table, ladies, interrupted the steward's wife. Will you allow me? said the captain, immediately suiting the action to the word, and escorting Miss Julia Briggs to the cabin with as much ease as if he had finished the story. What an extraordinary circumstance! Ejaculated the same old gentleman, preserving his listening attitude. What a traveller! said the young ladies. What a singular name! exclaimed the gentleman, rather confused by the coolness of the whole affair. I wish she had finished the story, said an old lady. I wonder what a gum-gum really is. But I don't, exclaimed Hardy, who until now had been lost in utter amazement. I don't know what it may be in India, but in England I think a gum-gum has very much the same meaning as a humbug. How illiberal! how envious! cried everybody as they made for the cabin, fully impressed with a belief in the captain's amazing adventures. Helves was the sole lion for the remainder of the day. Impudence and the marvellous are pretty sure passports to any society. The party had by this time reached their destination, and put about on their return home. The wind, which had been with them the whole day, was now directly in their teeth. The weather had become gradually more and more overcast, and the sky, water, and shore were all of that dull, heavy, uniform lead colour, which house-painters daub in the first instance over a street-door which is gradually approaching a state of convalescence. It had been spitting with rain for the last half hour, and now began to pour in good earnest. The wind was freshening very fast, and the waterman at the wheel had unequivocally expressed his opinion that there would shortly be a squall. A slight emotion on the part of the vessel now and then seemed to suggest the possibility of its pitching to a very uncomfortable extent in the event of its blowing harder, and every timber began to creak as if the boat were an overladen clothes-basket. Sea sickness, however, is like a belief in ghosts. Everyone entertains some misgivings on the subject, but few will acknowledge any. The majority of the company, therefore, endeavoured to look peculiarly happy, feeling all the while especially miserable. Don't it rain! inquired the old gentleman before noticed, when, by dint of squeezing and jamming, they were all seated at table. I think it does a little, replied Mr. Percy Noakes, who could hardly hear himself speak in consequence of the pattering on the deck. Don't it blow! inquired someone else. No, I don't think it does! responded Hardy, sincerely wishing that he could persuade himself that it did not, for he sat near the door and was almost blown off his seat. It'll soon clear up! said Mr. Percy Noakes in a cheerful tone. Oh, certainly! ejaculated the committee generally. No doubt of it! said the remainder of the company, whose attention was now pretty well engrossed by the serious business of eating, carving, taking wine, and so forth. The throbbing motion of the engine was but too perceptible. There was a large, substantial cold-boiled leg of mutton at the bottom of the table, shaking like blamonde. A previously hearty sirloin of beef looked as if it had been suddenly seized with the palsy, and some tongues which were placed on dishes rather too large for them went through the most surprising evolutions, darting from side to side, and from end to end, like a fly in an inverted wine-glass. Then the sweets shook and trembled till it was quite impossible to help them, and people gave up the attempt in despair. And the pigeon-pies looked as if the birds whose legs were stuck outside were trying to get them in. The table vibrated and started like a feverish pulse, and the very legs were convulsed. Everything was shaking and jarring. The beams in the roof of the cabin seemed as if they were put there for the sole purpose of giving people headaches, and several elderly gentlemen became ill-tempered in consequence. As fast as the steward put the fire-ions up they would fall down again, and the more the ladies and gentlemen tried to sit comfortably on their seats, the more the seats seemed to slide away from the ladies and gentlemen. Several ominous demands were made for small glasses of brandy. The countenances of the company gradually underwent most extraordinary changes. One gentleman was observed suddenly to rush from table without the slightest ostensible reason and dart up the steps with incredible swiftness, thereby greatly damaging both himself and the steward who happened to be coming down at the same moment. The cloth was removed, the dessert was laid on the table, and the glasses were filled. The motion of the boat increased. Several members of the party began to feel rather vague and misty, and looked as if they had only just got up. The young gentleman with the spectacles, who had been in a fluctuating state for some time at one moment bright and at another dismal, like a revolving light on the sea-coast, rashly announced his wish to propose a toast. After several ineffectual attempts to preserve his perpendicular, the young gentleman, having managed to hook himself to the centre leg of the table with his left hand, proceeded as follows. Ladies and gentlemen, a gentleman is among us, I may say, a stranger. Here some painful thought seemed to strike the aerator. He paused and looked extremely odd. Whose talents, whose travels, whose cheerfulness—I beg your pardon, Edkins, hastily interrupted Mr. Percy-notes. Hardie, what's the matter? Nothing, replied the funny gentleman, who had just life enough left to utter two consecutive syllables. Will you have some brandy? No, replied Hardie, in a tone of great indignation, and looking as comfortable as Temple Bar in a scotch mist. What should I want brandy for? Will you go on deck? No, I will not. This was said with a most determined air, and in a voice which might have been taken for an imitation of anything. It was quite as much like a guinea pig as a bassoon. I beg your pardon, Edkins, said the courteous Percy. I thought our friend was ill. Pray go on. A pause. Pray go on. Mr. Edkins, he's gone! cried somebody. I beg your pardon, sir, said the steward running up to Mr. Percy-notes. I beg your pardon, sir, but the gentleman has just went on deck, him with the green spectacles. It's uncommon bad, to be sure. And the young man has played the while in, says that unless he has some brandy, he can't answer for the consequences. He says he has a wife and two children, whose worry subsistence depends on his breaking a whistle, and he expects to do so every moment. Their flageolet has been very ill, but he's better, only he's in a dreadful perspiration. All disguise was now useless. The company staggered on deck. The gentleman tried to see nothing but the clouds, and the ladies muffled up in such shawls and cloaks as they had brought with them lay about on the seats and under the seats, in the most wretched condition. Never was such a blowing, and reigning, and pitching, and tossing endured by any pleasure party before. Several remonstrances were sent down below on the subject of Master Fleetwood, but they were totally unheeded in consequence of the indisposition of his natural protectors. That interesting child screamed at the top of his voice until he had no voice left to scream with, and then Miss Wakefield began and screamed for the remainder of the passage. Mr. Hardy was observed some hours afterwards in an attitude which induced his friends to suppose that he was bitterly engaged in contemplating the beauties of the deep. They only regretted that his taste for the picturesque should lead him to remain so long in a position very injurious at all times, but especially so to an individual laboring under a tendency of blood to the head. The party arrived off the custom-house at about two o'clock on the Thursday morning, dispirited and worn out. The Tauntons were too ill to quarrel with the Briggses, and the Briggses were too wretched to annoy the Tauntons. One of the guitar cases was lost on its passage to a hackney-coach, and Mrs Briggs has not scrupled to state that the Tauntons bribed a porter to throw it down an area. Mr. Alexander Briggs opposes vote by balance, he says, from personal experience of its inefficacy, and Mr. Samuel Briggs, whenever he is asked to express his sentiments upon the point, says he has no opinion on that or any other subject. Mr. Edkins, the young gentleman in the Green Spectacles, makes a speech on every occasion on which a speech can possibly be made, the eloquence of which can only be equalled by its length. In the event of his not being previously appointed to a judgeship, it is probable that he will practice as a barrister in the new Central Criminal Court. Captain Helves continued his attention to Miss Julia Briggs, whom he might possibly have espoused, if it had not unfortunately happened that Mr. Samuel arrested him, in the way of business pursuant to instructions received from Mrs. Scroggins and Payne, whose town debts the gallant captain had condescended to collect, but whose accounts, with the indiscretion sometimes peculiar to military minds, he had omitted to keep with that dull accuracy which custom has rendered necessary. Mrs. Taunton complains that she has been much deceived in him. He introduced himself to the family on board a gravesend steam packet, and certainly therefore ought to have proved respectable. Mr. Percy notes is as light-hearted and careless as ever. End of Chapter 7 of Tales from Sketches by Boz. Recording by Ruth Golding Chapter 8 of Tales from Sketches by Boz. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Ruth Golding Sketches by Boz. by Charles Dickens Illustrations by George Crookshank Chapter 8 of Tales The Great Winglebury Duel The little town of Great Winglebury is exactly 42 miles and three quarters from Hyde Park Corner. It has a long, straggling, quiet high street, with a great black and white clock at a small red town hall halfway up, a marketplace, a cage, an assembly room, a church, a bridge, a chapel, a theatre, a library, an inn, a pump, and a post office. Tradition tells of a little Winglebury down some cross-road about two miles off, and as a square mass of dirty paper, supposed to have been originally intended for a letter, in which a lively imagination might trace a remote resemblance to the word little, was once stuck up to be owned in the sunny window of the Great Winglebury Post Office, from which it only disappeared when it fell to pieces with dust and extreme old age. There would appear to be some foundation for the legend. Common belief is inclined to bestow the name upon a little hole at the end of a muddy lane about a couple of miles long, colonised by one wheel-right, four paupers, and a beer shop. But even this authority, slight as it is, must be regarded with extreme suspicion, in as much as the inhabitants of the whole aforesaid, concur in a pining that it never had any name at all, from the earliest ages down to the present day. The Winglebury arms in the centre of the High Street, opposite the small building with the big clock, is the principal inn of Great Winglebury. The commercial inn, posting-house, and excise office, the blue house at every election, and the judge's house at every assizes. It is the headquarters of the Gentleman's Whist Club of Winglebury Blues, so called in opposition to the Gentleman's Whist Club of Winglebury Buffs, held at the other house a little further down. And whenever a juggler, or wax-work man, or concert-giver, takes Great Winglebury in his circuit, it is immediately placarded all over the town that Mr. So-and-So, trusting to that liberal support which the inhabitants of Great Winglebury have long been so liberal in bestowing, has, at a great expense, engaged the elegant and commodious assembly-rooms attached to the Winglebury arms. The house is a large one, with a red brick and stone front, a pretty spacious hall ornamented with evergreen plants terminates in a perspective view of the bar and a glass case, in which are displayed a choice variety of delicacies ready for dressing, to catch the eye of a newcomer the moment he enters, and excite his appetite to the highest possible pitch. Opposite doors lead to the coffee and commercial rooms, and a great wide rambling staircase, three stairs and a landing, four stairs and another landing, one step and another landing, half a dozen stairs and another landing, and so on. Conducts to galleries of bedrooms and labyrinths of sitting-rooms, denominated private, where you may enjoy yourself, as privately as you can, in any place where some bewildered being walks into your room every five minutes by mistake, and then walks out again to open all the doors along the gallery until he finds his own. Such is the Winglebury arms at this day, and such was the Winglebury arms sometimes since, no matter when, two or three minutes before the arrival of the London stage. Four horses with cloths on, changed for a coach, were standing quietly at the corner of the yard, surrounded by a listless group of post-boys in shiny hats and smock-frocks, engaged in discussing the merits of the capital. Half a dozen ragged boys were standing a little apart, listening with evident interest to the conversation of these worthies, and a few loungers were collected round the horse-troph, awaiting the arrival of the coach. The day was hot and sunny, the town in the zenith of its dullness, and with the exception of these few idlers, not a living creature was to be seen. Suddenly the loud notes of a key bugle broke the monotonous stillness of the street. In came the coach rattling over the uneven paving, with a noise startling enough to stop even the large-faced clock itself. Down got the outsides, up went the windows in all directions, out came the waiters, up started the oscillers and the loungers and the post-boys and the ragged boys as if they were electrified, unstrapping and unchaining and unbuckling and dragging willing horses out, and forcing reluctant horses in, and making a most exhilarating bustle. Lady inside here, said the guard, pleased to alight, Mum, said the waiter. Private sitting-room, interrogated the lady. As certainly Mum responded the chambermaid. A nothing but the easier trunks, Mum, inquired the guard. Nothing more, replied the lady. Up got the outsides again and the guard and the coachman. Off came the cloths with a jerk. All right! was the cry, and away they went. The loungers lingered a minute or two in the road, watching the coach until it turned the corner, and then loitered away one by one. The street was clear again, and the town, by contrast, quieter than ever. Screamed the landlady. Thomas! Yes, Mum? Letter just been left for the gentleman in number 19. Boots at the line left it. No answer. Letter for you, sir, said Thomas, depositing the letter on number 19's table. For me, said number 19 turning from the window out of which he had been surveying the scene just described. Yes, sir. Waiters always speak in hints, and never utter complete sentences. Yes, sir. Boots at the line, sir. Bars, sir. Mrs. said, number 19, sir. Alexander Trottisquare, sir. Your card at the bar, sir, I think, sir. My name is Trott. Replied number 19 breaking the seal. You may go, waiter. The waiter pulled down the window-blind and then pulled it up again, for a regular waiter must do something before he leaves the room. Adjusted the glasses on the sideboard, brushed a place that was not dusty, rubbed his hands very hard, walked stealthily to the door, and evaporated. There was evidently something in the contents of the letter of a nature, if not wholly unexpected, certainly extremely disagreeable. Mr. Alexander Trott laid it down, and took it up again, and walked about the room on particular squares of the carpet, and even attempted, though unsuccessfully, to whistle an air. It wouldn't do. He threw himself into a chair, and read the following epistle aloud. Blue lion and stomach-warmer, great Winglebury, Wednesday morning. Sir, immediately on discovering your intentions, I left our counting-house, and followed you. I know the purport of your journey. That journey shall never be completed. I have no friend here, just now, on whose secrecy I can rely. This shall be no obstacle to my revenge. Neither shall Emily Brown be exposed to the mercenary solicitations of astoundrel, odious in her eyes, and contemptible in everybody else's. Nor will I tamely submit to the clandestine attacks of a base umbrella-maker. Sir, from great Winglebury Church a footpath leads through four meadows to a retired spot known to the townspeople as Stiffen's Acre. Mr. Trott, shuddered. I shall be waiting there alone at twenty minutes before six o'clock tomorrow morning. Should I be disappointed in seeing you there, I will do myself the pleasure of calling with a horse whip. Horace Hunter. P. S. There is a gumsmith's in the High Street, and they won't sell gunpowder after dark. You understand me. P. P. S. You had better not order your breakfast in the morning until you have met me. It may be an unnecessary expense. Desperate-minded villain, I knew how it would be. Ejaculated the terrified Trott. I was told, Father, that once start me on this expedition, and Hunter would pursue me like the wandering Jew. It's bad enough, as it is, to marry with the old people's commands, and without the girl's consent. But what will Emily think of me, if I go down there breathless with running away from this infernal salamander? What shall I do? What can I do? If I go back to the city, I'm disgraced forever. Lose the girl, and what's more, lose the money, too. Even if I did go on to the Browns by the Coach Hunter, would be after me in a pochette. And if I go to this place, this stiffens acre. Another shudder. I'm as good as dead. I'd seen him hit the man at the Palmel shooting gallery, in the second buttonhole of the waistcoat, five times out of every six. And when he didn't hit him there, he hit him in the head. With this consolatory reminiscence, Mr Alexander Trott again ejaculated. What shall I do? Long and weary were his reflections, as, burying his face in his hand, he sat ruminating on the best course to be pursued. His mental direction post-pointed to London. He thought of the Governor's anger, and the loss of the fortune which the paternal Brown had promised the paternal Trott, his daughter should contribute to the coffers of his son. Then the words to Browns were legibly inscribed on the said direction post, but Horace Hunter's denunciation rung in his ears. Last of all it bore in red letters the words to Stiffen's Acre. And then Mr Alexander Trott decided on adopting a plan which he presently matured. First and foremost he dispatched the underboots to the blue line and stomach-warmer with a gentlemanly note to Mr Horace Hunter, intimating that he thirsted for his destruction, and would do himself the pleasure of slaughtering him next morning without fail. He then wrote another letter and requested the attendance of the other boots, for they kept a pair. A modest knock at the room door was heard. Come in, said Mr Trott. A man thrust in a red head with one eye in it, and being again desired to come in, brought in the body and the legs to which the head belonged, and a fur cap that belonged to the head. You are the upper boots, I think? inquired Mr Trott. Yes, I am the upper boots, replied the voice from inside a velveteen case with mother of pearl buttons. That is, I am the boots as belongs to the house, the other man's my man as goes errands and does odd jobs. Top boots and half-boot cycles us. You are from London, inquired Mr Trott. Drift a cab once, was the laconic reply. Why don't you drive it now? asked Mr Trott. Over-drift the cab and drift over a oom, and replied the top boots with brevity. Do you know the mare's house? inquired Mr Trott. Rather, replied the boots significantly, as if he had some good reason to remember it. Do you think you could manage to leave a letter there? interrogated Trott. Shouldn't wonder, responded Boots. But this letter, said Trott, holding a deformed note with a paralytic direction in one hand and five shillings in the other. This letter is anonymous. A what? interrupted the boots. Anonymous, he is not to know who it comes from. Oh, I see! responded the regler with a knowing wink, but without evincing the slightest disinclination to undertake the charge. I see! bit of swing, eh? And his one eye wandered round the room, as if in quest of a dark lantern and phosphorus box. But I say! he continued, recalling the eye from its search, and bringing it to bear on Mr Trott. I say! he's a lawyer, our mare, and insured in the county. If you've a spite against him, you'd better not burn his house down. Blessed, if I don't think it would be the greatest favour, you could do him. And he chuckled inwardly. If Mr Alexander Trott had been in any other situation, his first act would have been to kick the man down stairs by deputy, or, in other words, to ring the bell and desire the landlord to take his boots off. He contented himself, however, with doubling the fee, and explaining that the letter merely related to a breach of the peace. The top boots retired, solemnly pledged to secrecy, and Mr Alexander Trott sat down to a fried soul, mantanon cutlet, Madeira, and sundries, with greater composure than he had experienced since the receipt of Horace Hunter's letter of defiance. The lady who alighted from the London coach had no sooner been installed in Number 25, and made some alteration in her travelling dress, than she indicted a note to Joseph Overton Esquire, solicitor and mayor of Great Winglebury, requesting his immediate attendance on private business of paramount importance. A summons which that worthy functionary lost no time in obeying, for after sundry openings of his eyes diver's ejaculations of blessed me, and other manifestations of surprise, he took his broad-brimmed hat from its accustomed peg in his little front office, and walked briskly down the high street to the Winglebury arms. Through the hall and up the staircase of which establishment he was ushered by the landlady and a crowd of officious waiters to the door of Number 25. Show the gentleman in, said the stranger lady, in reply to the foremost waiter's announcement. The gentleman was shown in accordingly. The lady rose from the sofa, the mayor advanced a step from the door, and there they both paused for a minute or two, looking at one another as if by mutual consent. The mayor saw before him a buxom richly dressed female of about forty. The lady looked upon a sleek man about ten years older in drab shorts and continuations, black cloth, netcloth, and gloves. Miss Julia Manners exclaimed the mayor at length, You astonish me. That's very unfair of you, Overton, replied Miss Julia. For I have known you long enough not to be surprised at anything you do, and you might extend equal courtesy to me. But run away, actually run away with a young man, remonstrated the mayor. You wouldn't have me actually run away with an old one, I presume, was the cool rejoinder. And then to ask me, me, of all people in the world, man of my age and appearance, mayor of the town, to promote such a scheme? Pettishly ejaculated Joseph Overton, throwing himself into an armchair, and producing Miss Julia's letter from his pocket, as if to corroborate the assertion that he had been asked. Now, Overton, replied the lady, I want your assistance in this matter, and I must have it. In the lifetime of that poor old dear Mr. Cornbury, who was to have married you, and didn't because he died first, and who left you his property unencumbered with the addition of himself, suggested the mayor. Well, replied Miss Julia, reddening slightly. In the lifetime of the poor old dear, the property had the encumbrance of your management, and all I will say of that is that I only wonder it didn't die of consumption instead of its master. You helped yourself then, help me now. Mr. Joseph Overton was a man of the world and an attorney, and as certain indistinct recollections of an odd thousand pounds or two appropriated by mistake, passed across his mind, he hummed, deprecatingly, smiled blandly, remained silent for a few seconds, and finally inquired, What do you wish me to do? I'll tell you, replied Miss Julia. I'll tell you in three words, Dear Lord Peter. That's the young man, I suppose, interrupted the mayor. That's the young nobleman, replied the lady with a great stress on the last word. Dear Lord Peter is considerably afraid of the resentment of his family, and we have therefore thought it better to make the match a stolen one. He left town to avoid suspicion, on a visit to his friend, the honourable Augustus Flair, whose seat, as you know, is about thirty miles from this, accompanied only by his favourite tiger. We arranged that I should come here alone in the London coach, and that he, leaving his tiger and cab behind him, should come on and arrive here as soon as possible this afternoon. Very well, observed Joseph Overton, and then he can order the shares, and you can go on to Gretna Green together without requiring the presence or interference of a third party, can't you? No, replied Miss Julia. We have every reason to believe, Dear Lord Peter, not being considered very prudent or sagacious by his friends, and they having discovered his attachment to me, that immediately on his absence being observed, pursuit will be made in this direction. To elude which, and to prevent our being traced, I wish it to be understood in this house, that Dear Lord Peter is slightly deranged, though perfectly harmless, and that I am unknown to him awaiting his arrival to convey him in a post-shares to a private asylum, at Berwick, say. If I don't show myself much, I dare say I can manage to pass for his mother. The thought occurred to the Mayor's mind that the Lady might show herself a good deal without fear of detection, seeing that she was about double the age of her intended husband. He said nothing, however, and the Lady proceeded. With the whole of this arrangement, Dear Lord Peter is acquainted, and all I want you to do, is to make the delusion more complete, by giving it the sanction of your influence in this place, and assigning this as a reason to the people of the house for my taking the young gentleman away. As it would not be consistent with the story that I should see him until after he has entered the shares, I also wish you to communicate with him and inform him that it is all going on well. Has he arrived? inquired Overton. I don't know, replied the Lady. Then how am I to know? inquired the Mayor. Of course he will not give his own name at the bar. I begged him immediately on his arrival to write you a note, replied Miss Manners. And to prevent the possibility of our project being discovered through its means, I desired him to write anonymously, and in mysterious terms, to acquaint you with the number of his room. Bless me! exclaimed the Mayor, rising from his seat and searching his pockets. Most extraordinary circumstance he has arrived. Mysterious note left at my house in a most mysterious manner, just before yours. Didn't know what to make of it before, and certainly shouldn't have attended to it. Oh, here it is. And Joseph Overton pulled out of an inner coat pocket the identical letter penned by Alexander Trott. Is this his lordship's hand? Oh, yes! replied Julia. Good punctual creature! I have not seen it more than once or twice, but I know he writes very badly and very large. These dear, wild young noblemen, you know, Overton? Aye, aye, I see! replied the Mayor. Horses and dogs, play and wine, grooms, actresses and cigars. The stable, the green room, the saloon and the tavern, and the legislative assembly at last. Here's what he said. Pursued the Mayor. Sir, a young gentleman in number 19 at the Winglebury Arms, is bent on committing a rash act tomorrow morning at an early hour. That's good, he means marrying. If you have any regard for the peace of this town or the preservation of one, it may be two human lives. Oh, the deuce does he mean by that! That he's so anxious for the ceremony, he will expire if it's put off, and that I may possibly do the same. replied the Lady with great complacency. Oh, I see, not much fear of that. Well, two human lives you will cause him to be removed tonight. He wants to start at once. Fear not to do this on your responsibility, for tomorrow the absolute necessity of the proceeding will be but to apparent. Remember, number 19, the name is Trot. No delay for life and death depend upon your promptitude. Passionate language, certainly, shall I see him? Do, replied Miss Julia, and entreat him to act his part well. I'm half afraid of him. Tell him to be cautious. I will, said the Mayor. Settle all the arrangements. I will, said the Mayor again. And say I think the shares had better be ordered for one o'clock. Very well, said the Mayor once more. And ruminating on the absurdity of the situation in which fate and old acquaintance had placed him, he desired a waiter to herald his approach to the temporary representative of number 19. The announcement, gentlemen, to speak with you, sir. Induced Mr. Trot to pause half-way in the glass of port, the contents of which he was in the act of imbibing at the moment, to rise from his chair and retreat a few paces towards the window, as if to secure a retreat in the event of the visitor assuming the form and appearance of Horace Hunter. One glance at Joseph Overton, however, quieted his apprehensions. He courteously motioned the stranger to a seat. The waiter, after a little jingling with the decanter and glasses, consented to leave the room. And Joseph Overton, placing the broad-brimmed hat on the chair next to him, and bending his body gently forward, opened the business by saying, in a very low and cautious tone, My Lord. A, said Mr. Alexander Trot, in a loud key, with the vacant and mystified stare of a chilly somnambulist. Hush, hush, said the cautious attorney. To be sure, quite right, no titles here. My name is Overton, sir. Overton? Yes, the mayor of this place. You sent me a letter with anonymous information this afternoon. Aye, sir? exclaimed Trot, with ill-dissembled surprise, for coward as he was he would willingly have repudiated the authorship of the letter in question. Aye, sir? Yes, you, sir, did you not? responded Overton, annoyed with what he's supposed to be an extreme degree of unnecessary suspicion. Either this letter is yours, or it is not. If it be, we can converse securely upon the subject at once. If it be not, of course I have no more to say. Stay, stay, said Trot. It is mine, I did write it. What could I do, sir? I had no friend here. To be sure, to be sure, said the mayor, encouragingly, you could not have managed it better. Well, sir, it will be necessary for you to leave here tonight in a post-shays and four, and the harder the boys drive, the better you are not safe from pursuit. Bless me! exclaimed Trot, in an agony of apprehension. Can such things happen in a country like this? Such unrelenting and cold-blooded hostility. He wiped off the concentrated essence of cowardice that was oozing fast down his forehead, and looked aghast at Joseph Overton. It certainly is a very hard case, replied the mayor with a smile. Thirteen a free country people can't marry whom they like, without being hunted down as if they were criminals. However, in the present instance the lady is willing, you know, and that's the main point after all. Lady willing, repeated Trot mechanically. How do you know the lady's willing? Come, that's a good one! said the mayor, benevolently tapping Mr. Trot on the arm with his broad-brimmed hat. I have known her, well, for a long time, and if anybody could entertain the remotest doubts on the subject, I assure you I have none, nor need you have. Dear me, said Mr. Trot, ruminating. This is very extraordinary. Well, Lord Peter, said the mayor, rising. Lord Peter, repeated Mr. Trot. Ah, oh, ah, I forgot. Mr. Trot, then. Trot, very good. Well, sir, the shades shall be ready at half-past twelve. And what is to become of me until then? inquired Mr. Trot anxiously. Wouldn't it save appearances if I were placed under some restraint? Ah! replied Overton. Very good thought. Capital idea indeed. I'll send somebody up directly. And if you make a little resistance when we put you in the shade, it wouldn't be a mess. Look as if you didn't want to be taken away, you know. To be sure, said Trot, to be sure. Well, my Lord, said Overton in a low tone, until then I wish your lordship a good evening. Lord, lordship! Ejaculated Trot again, falling back a step or two, and gazing in unutterable wonder on the countenance of the mare. Ha, ha, ha! I see, my lord, practicing the madman. Very good indeed. Very vacant look. Capital, my lord, capital. Good evening, Mr. Trot. That mare's decidedly drunk, so little acquires Mr. Trot, throwing himself back in his chair in an attitude of reflection. He is a much cleverer fellow than I thought him, that young nobleman. He carries it off uncommonly well. Thought Overton, as he went his way to the bar, there to complete his arrangements. This was soon done. Every word of the story was implicitly believed, and the one-eyed boots was immediately instructed to repair to number nineteen, to act as custodian of the person of the supposed lunatic, until half past twelve o'clock. In pursuance of this direction, that somewhat eccentric gentleman armed himself with a walking stick of gigantic dimensions, and repaired, with his usual equanimity of manner, to Mr. Trot's apartment, which he entered without any ceremony, and mounted guard in, by quietly depositing himself on a chair near the door, where he proceeded to beguile the time by whistling a popular air with great apparent satisfaction. What do you want here, you scoundrel? exclaimed Mr. Alexander Trot, with a proper appearance of indignation at his detention. The boots beat time with his head, as he looked gently round at Mr. Trot with a smile of pity, and whistled an Adagio movement. Do you attend in this room by Mr. Overton's desire? Inquired Trot, rather astonished at the man's demeanour. Keep yourself to yourself, young fellow! calmly responded the boots, and don't say nothing to nobody. And he whistled again. Now, mind! ejaculated Mr. Trot, anxious to keep up the farce of wishing with great earnestness to fight a duel if they'd let him. I protest against being kept here. I deny that I have any intention of fighting with anybody, but as it's useless contending with superior numbers, I shall sit quietly down. You'd better! observed the placid boots, shaking the large stick expressively. Under protest, however, added Alexander Trot, seating himself with indignation in his face, but great content in his heart. Under protest. Oh, certainly! responded the boots. Anything you please, if you're happy, I'm transported. Only don't talk too much, it'll make you worse. Make me worse! exclaimed Trot in unfaimed astonishment. The man's drunk. You'd better be quiet, young fellow! remarked the boots, going through a threatening piece of pantomime with the stick. Oh, mad! said Mr. Trot, rather alarmed. Leave the room, sir, and tell them to send somebody else. Won't do! replied the boots. Leave the room! shouted Trot, ringing the bell violently, for he began to be alarmed on a new score. Leave that earbell alone, you wretched lunatic! said the boots, suddenly forcing the unfortunate Trot back into his chair and brandishing the stick aloft. Be quiet, you miserable object, and don't let everybody know there's a madman in the house. He is a madman! he is a madman! exclaimed the terrified Mr. Trot, gazing on the one eye of the red-headed boots with a look of abject horror. Madman! replied the boots. Dammit, I think he is a madman with a vengeance! Listen to me, you unfortunate! Ah, would you! a slight tap on the head with the large stick, as Mr. Trot made another move towards the bell-handle. I caught you there, did I? Spare my life! exclaimed Trot, raising his hands imploringly. I don't want your life! replied the boots disdainfully. Oh, I think it would be a charity if somebody took it. No, no, it wouldn't! interrupted poor Mr. Trot hurriedly. No, no, it wouldn't! I'd rather keep it. Ah, very well! said the boots. That's a mere matter of taste, everyone, to his liking. How's ever, all I've got to say is this here. You sit quietly down in that chair, and I'll sit opposite you here. And if you keep quiet and don't stir, I won't damage you. But if you move hand or foot till half-past twelve o'clock, I shall alter the expression of your countenance so completely, that the next time you look in the glass, you'll ask whether you've gone out of town, and then you'll likely to come back again. So sit down. I will, I will! responded the victim of mistakes. And down sat Mr. Trot, and down sat the boots, too. Exactly opposite him, with the stick ready for immediate action in case of emergency. Long and dreary were the hours that followed. The bell of Great Winglebury Church had just struck ten, and two hours and a half would probably elapse before Sucker arrived. For half an hour the noise occasioned by shutting up the shops in the street beneath betokened something like life in the town, and rendered Mr. Trot's situation a little less insupportable. But when even these ceased, and nothing was heard beyond the occasional rattling of a post-shares as it drove up the yard to change horses, and then drove away again, or the clattering of horses' hoofs in the stables behind, it became almost unbearable. The boots occasionally moved an inch or two to knock superfluous bits of wax off the candles, which were burning low, but instantaneously resumed his former position. And as he remembered to have heard, somewhere or other, that the human eye had an unfailing effect of controlling mad people, he kept his solitary organ of vision constantly fixed on Mr. Alexander Trot. That unfortunate individual stared at his companion in his turn, until his features grew more and more indistinct, his hair gradually less red, and the room more misty and obscure. Mr. Alexander Trot fell into a sound sleep, from which he was awakened by a rumbling in the street, and a cry of shares and four for number twenty-five. A bustle on the stairs succeeded, the room door was hastily thrown open, and Mr. Joseph Overton entered, followed by four stout waiters, and Mrs. Williamson, the stout landlady of the Winglebury Arms. Mr. Overton exclaimed Mr. Alexander Trot jumping up in a frenzy. Look at this man, sir! Consider the situation in which I have been placed for three hours past. The person you sent to guard me, sir, was a madman, a madman, a raging, ravaging, furious madman. Bravo! whispered Mr. Overton. Poor dear! said the compassionate Mrs. Williamson. Mad people always think other people's mad. Poor dear! ejaculated Mr. Alexander Trot. What the devil do you mean by poor dear? Are you the landlady of this house? Yes, yes, replied the stout old lady. Don't exert yourself, there's a dear. Consider your health now, do. Exert myself! shouted Mr. Alexander Trot. It's a mercy, ma'am, that I have any breath to exert myself with. I might have been assassinated three hours ago by the one-eyed monster with the oakum head. How dare you have a madman, ma'am! How dare you have a madman to assault and terrify the visitors to your house? I'll never have another, said Mrs. Williamson, casting a look of reproach at the mare. Capital, capital! whispered Overton again, as he enveloped Mr. Alexander Trot in a thick travelling cloak. Capital, sir! exclaimed Trot, aloud. It's horrible! The very recollection makes me shudder. I'd rather fight four duels in three hours if I survived the first three than I'd sit for that time face to face with a madman. Keep it up, my lord, as you go downstairs! whispered Overton. Your bill is paid and your portmanteau in the shears. And then he added aloud, Now, waiters, the gentleman's ready. At this signal the waiters crowded round Mr. Alexander Trot. One took one arm, another the other. A third walked before with a candle. The fourth, behind with another candle. The boots and Mrs. Williamson brought up the rear and downstairs they went. Mr. Alexander Trot expressing alternately at the very top of his voice, either his feigned reluctance to go, or his unfamed indignation at being shut up with a madman. Mr. Overton was waiting at the shears door. The boys were ready-mounted, and a few Oslars and stable nondescripts were standing round to witness the departure of the mad gentleman. Mr. Alexander Trot's foot was on the step, when he observed which the dim light had prevented his doing before, a figure seated in the shears, closely muffled up in a cloak like his own. Who's that? he inquired of Overton in a whisper. Hush, hush, replied the mayor. The other party, of course. The other party exclaimed Trot with an effort to retreat. Yes, yes, you'll soon find that out before you go far, I should think. But make a noise, you'll excite suspicion if you whisper to me so much. I won't go in this shears! shouted Mr. Alexander Trot, all his original fears recurring with tenfold violence. I shall be assassinated, I shall be— Bravo, bravo! whispered Overton. I'll push you in. But I won't go! exclaimed Mr. Trot. Help here, help! They're carrying me away against my will. This is a plot to murder me. Poor dear! said Mrs. Williamson again. Now, boys, put them along! cried the mayor, pushing Trot in and slamming the door. Off with you as quick as you can, and stop for nothing till you come to the next stage. All right? Horses are paid, Tom! screamed Mrs. Williamson, and away went the shears at the rate of fourteen miles an hour, with Mr. Alexander Trot and Miss Julia Manners carefully shut up in the inside. Mr. Alexander Trot remained coiled up in one corner of the shears, and his mysterious companion in the other for the first two or three miles. Mr. Trot edging more and more into his corner, as he felt his companion gradually edging more and more from hers, and vainly endeavouring in the darkness to catch a glimpse of the furious face of the supposed Horace Hunter. We may speak now, said his fellow traveller at length. The post-boys can neither see nor hear That's not Hunter's voice! thought Alexander astonished. Dear Lord Peter! said Miss Julia most winningly, putting her arm on Mr. Trot's shoulder. Dear Lord Peter! not a word. Why, it's a woman! exclaimed Mr. Trot in a low tone of excessive wonder. Whose voice is that? said Julia. Tis not Lord Peter's. No, it's mine! replied Mr. Trot. Yours! ejaculated Miss Julia Manners. A strange man! gracious heaven! how came you here? Whoever you are, you might have known that I came against my will-mom! replied Alexander, for I made noise enough when I got in. Do you come from Lord Peter? inquired Miss Manners. Confound Lord Peter! replied Trot pettishly. I don't know any Lord Peter. I never heard of him before to-night, when I've been Lord Peter'd by one and Lord Peter'd by another till I verily believe I'm mad or dreaming. Where are we going? inquired the lady tragically. How should I know, mom? replied Trot with singular coolness, for the events of the evening had completely hardened him. Stop! stop! cried the lady, letting down the front glasses of the shears. Stay, my dear mom! said Mr. Trot, pulling the glasses up again with one hand, and gently squeezing Miss Julia's waist with the other. There is some mistake here. Give me till the end of this stage to explain my share of it. We must go so far. You cannot be set down here alone at this hour of night. The lady consented. The mistake was mutually explained. Mr. Trot was a young man, had highly promising whiskers, an undeniable tailor, and an insinuating address. He wanted nothing but valour, and who wants that with three thousand a year. The lady had this and more. She wanted a young husband, and the only course open to Mr. Trot to retrieve his disgrace was a rich wife. So they came to the conclusion that it would be a pity to have all this trouble and expense for nothing, and that as they were so far on the road already, they had better go to Gretna Green and marry each other. And they did so. And the very next preceding entry in the blacksmith's book was an entry of the marriage of Emily Brown with Horace Hunter. Mr. Hunter took his wife home and begged pardon, and was pardoned. And Mr. Trot took his wife home, begged pardon too, and was pardoned also. And Lord Peter, who had been detained beyond his time by drinking champagne and riding a steeple chase, went back to the honourable Augustus Flares, and drank more champagne, and rode another steeple-chase, and was thrown and killed. And Horace Hunter took great credit to himself for practising on the cowardice of Alexander Trot, and all these circumstances were discovered in time, and carefully noted down. And if you ever stop a week at the Winglebury arms, they will give you just this account of the great Winglebury duel. End of Chapter 8 of Tales from Sketches by Boz