Chapter I: The Pantomime of Life (2)

Tom refreshed himself at the Feathers, kept in those days by a man named Jerry Mulvany, who was supposed to be more nearly connected with the family of Ormond than the rites of the church could allow; and having swallowed as much of the substantial food and the pestiferous fluid that mine host of the Feathers tendered him, the spirit of inquisitiveness, which, according to the phrenologists, is developed in all mankind, seized paramount hold of Tom. Tom--? ay, Tom it must be, for I really cannot recollect his other name.

If there be a guide-book to the curiosities of Kilkenny, the work has escaped my researches. Of the city it is recorded, however, that it can boast of fire without smoke, air without fog, and streets paved with marble. And there's the college, and the bridge, and the ruins of St. John's abbey, and St. Canice, and the Nore itself, and last, not least, the castle of the Ormonds, with its woods and its walks, and its stables and its gallery, and all the rest of it, predominating over the river. It is a very fine-looking thing indeed; and, if I mistake not, John Wilson Croker, in his youth, wrote a poem to its honour, beginning with

"High on the sounding banks of Nore,"

every verse of which ended with "The castle," in the manner of Cowper's "My Mary," or Ben Jonson's "Tom Tosspot." If I had the poem, I should publish it here with the greatest pleasure; but I have it not. I forget where I saw it, but I think it was in a Dublin magazine of a good many years ago, when I was a junior sophister of T. C. D.

Let the reader, then, in the absence of this document, imagine that the poem was infinitely fine, and that the subject was worthy of the muse. As the castle is the most particular lion of the city, it of course speedily attracted the attention of Tom, who, swaggering in all the independence of an emancipated footman up the street, soon found himself at the gate. "Rearing himself thereat," as the old ballad has it, stood a man basking in the sun. He was somewhat declining towards what they call the vale of years in the language of poetry; but by the twinkle of his eye, and the purple rotundity of his cheek, it was evident that the years of the valley, like the lads of the valley, had gone cheerily-o! The sun shone brightly upon his silver locks, escaping from under a somewhat tarnished cocked-hat guarded with gold lace, the gilding of which had much deteriorated since it departed from the shop of the artificer; and upon a scarlet waistcoat, velvet certainly, but of reduced condition, and in the same situation as to gilding as the hat. His plum-coloured breeches were unbuckled at the knee, and his ungartered stockings were on a downward progress towards his unbuckled shoes. He had his hands--their wrists were garnished with unwashed ruffles--in his breeches pockets; and he diverted himself with whistling "Charley over the water," in a state of _quasi_-ruminant quiescence. Nothing could be plainer than that he was a hanger-on of the castle off duty, waiting his time until called for, when of course he was to appear before his master in a more carefully arranged costume.

Ormond Castle was then, as I believe it is now, a show-house, and the visitors of Kilkenny found little difficulty in the admission; but, as in those days purposes of political intrusion might be suspected, some shadow at least of introduction was considered necessary. Tom, reared in the household of a schoolmaster, where the despotic authority of the chief extends a flavour of its quality to all his ministers, exhilarated by the walk, and cheered by the eatables and drinkables which he had swallowed, felt that there was no necessity for consulting any of the usual points of etiquette, if indeed he knew that any such things were in existence.

"I say," said he, "old chap! is this castle to be seen? I'm told it's a show; and if it is, let's have a look at it."

"It is to be seen," replied the person addressed, "if you are properly introduced."

"That's all hum!" said Tom. "I know enough of the world, though I've lived all my life in Clonmell, to know that a proper introduction signifies a tester. Come, my old snouty, I'll stand all that's right if you show me over it. Can you do it?"

"Why," said his new friend, "I think I can; because, in fact, I am----"

"Something about the house, I suppose. Well, though you've on a laced jacket, and I only a plain frieze coat, we are both brothers of the shoulder-knot. I tell you who I am. Did you ever hear of Chaytor the Quaker, the schoolmaster of Clonmell?"

"Never."

"Well, he's a decent sort of fellow in the _propria quæ maribus_ line, and gives as good a buttock of beef to anybody that gets over the threshold of his door as you'd wish to meet; and I am his man,--his valley de sham, head gentleman----"

"Gentleman usher?"

"No, not usher," responded Tom indignantly: "I have nothing to do with ushers; they are scabby dogs of poor scholards, sizards, half-pays, and the like; and all the young gentlemen much prefer me:--but I am his _fiddleus Achates_, as master Jack Toler calls me,--that's a purty pup who will make some fun some of these days,--his whacktotum, head-cook, and dairy-maid, slush, and butler. What are you here?"

"Why," replied the man at the gate, "I am a butler as well as you."

"Oh! then we're both butlers; and you could as well pass us in. By coarse, the butler must be a great fellow here; and I see you are rigged out in the cast clothes of my lord. Isn't that true?"

"True enough: he never gets a suit of clothes that it does not fall to my lot to wear it; but if you wish to see the castle, I think I can venture to show you all that it contains, even for the sake of our being two butlers."

It was not much sooner said than done. Tom accompanied his companion over the house and grounds, making sundry critical observations on all he saw therein,--on painting, architecture, gardening, the sublime and beautiful, the scientific and picturesque,--in a manner which I doubt not much resembled the average style of reviewing those matters in what we now call the best public instructors.

"Rum-looking old ruffians!" observed Tom, on casting his eyes along the gallery containing the portraitures of the Ormondes. "Look at that fellow there all battered up in iron; I wish to God I had as good a church as he would rob!"

"He was one of the old earls," replied his guide, "in the days of Henry the Eighth; and I believe he did help in robbing churches."

"I knew it by his look," said Tom; "and there's a chap there in a wilderness of a wig. Gad! he looks as if he was like to be hanged."

"He was so," said the cicerone; "for a gentleman of the name of Blood was about to pay him that compliment at Tyburn."

"Serve him right," observed Tom; "and this fellow with the short stick in his hand;--what the deuce is the meaning of that?--was he a constable?"

"No," said his friend, "he was a marshal; but he had much to do with keeping out of the way of constables for some years. Did you ever hear of Dean Swift?"

"Did I ever hear of the Dane? Why, my master has twenty books of his that he's always reading, and he calls him Old Copper-farthing; and the young gentlemen are quite wild to read them. I read some of them wance (once); but they were all lies, about fairies and giants. Howsoever, they say the Dane was a larned man."

"Well, he was a great friend of that man with the short stick in his hand."

"By dad!" said Tom, "few of the Dane's friends was friends to the Hanover succession; and I'd bet anything that that flourishing-looking lad there was a friend to the Pretender."

"It is likely that if you laid such a bet you would win it. He was a great friend also of Queen Anne. Have you ever heard of her?"

"Heard of Brandy Nan! To be sure I did--merry be the first of August! But what's the use of looking at those queer old fools?--I wonder who bothered themselves painting them?"

"I do not think you knew the people;--they were Vandyke, Lely, Kneller."

"I never heard of them in Clonmell," remarked Tom. "Have you anything to drink?"

"Plenty."

"But you won't get into a scrape? Honour above all; I'd not like to have you do it unless you were sure, for the glory of the cloth."

The pledge of security being solemnly offered, Tom followed his companion through the intricate passages of the castle until he came into a small apartment, where he found a most plentiful repast before him. He had not failed to observe, that, as he was guided through the house, their path had been wholly uncrossed, for, if anybody accidentally appeared, he hastily withdrew. One person only was detained for a moment, and to him the butler spoke a few words in some unknown tongue, which Tom of course set down as part of the Jacobite treason pervading every part of the castle.

"Gad!" said he, while beginning to lay into the round of beef, "I am half inclined to think that the jabber you talked just now to the powder-monkey we met in that corridor was not treason, but beef and mustard: an't I right?"

"Quite so."

"Fall to, then, yourself. By Gad! you appear to have those lads under your thumb--for this is great eating. I suppose you often rob my lord?--speak plain, for I myself rob ould Chaytor the schoolmaster; but there's a long difference between robbing a schoolmaster and robbing a lord. I venture to say many a pound of his you have made away with."

"A great many indeed. I am ashamed to say it, that for one pound he has lost by anybody else, he has lost a hundred by me."

"Ashamed, indeed! This is beautiful beef. But let us wash it down. By the powers! is it champagne you are giving me? Well, I never drank but one glass of it in my life, and that was from a bottle that I stole out of a dozen which the master had when he was giving a great dinner to the fathers of the boys just before the Christmas holidays the year before last. My service to you. By Gor! if you do not break the Ormonds, I can't tell who should."

"Nor I. Finish your champagne. What else will you have to drink?"

"Have you the run of the cellar?"

"Certainly."

"Why, then, claret is genteel; but the little I drank of it was mortal cold. Could you find us a glass of brandy?"

"Of course:" and on the sounding of a bell there appeared the same valet who had been addressed in the corridor; and in the same language some intimation was communicated, which in a few moments produced a bottle of Nantz, rare and particular, placed before Tom with all the emollient appliances necessary for turning it into punch.

"By all that's bad," said the Clonmellian butler, "but ye keep these fellows to their knitting. This is indeed capital stuff. Make for yourself. When you come to Clonmell, ask for me--Tom--at old Chaytor's, the Quaker schoolmaster, a few doors from the Globe. This lord of yours, I am told, is a bloody Jacobite: here's the Hanover succession! but we must not drink that here, for perhaps the old fellow himself might hear us."

"Nothing is more probable."

"Well, then, mum's the word. I'm told he puts white roses in his dog's ears, and drinks a certain person over the water on the tenth of June; but, no matter, this is his house, and you and I are drinking his drink,--so, why should we wish him bad luck? If he was hanged, of course I'd go to see him, to be sure; would not you?"

"I should certainly be there."

By this time Tom was subdued by the champagne and the brandy, to say nothing of the hot weather; and the spirit of hospitality rose strong upon the spirit of cognac. His new friend gently hinted that a retreat to his _gîte_ at the Feathers would be prudent; but to such a step Tom would by no means consent unless the butler of the castle accompanied him to take a parting bowl. With some reluctance the wish was complied with, and both the butlers sallied forth on their way through the principal streets of Kilkenny, just as the evening was beginning to assume somewhat of a dusky hue. Tom had, in the course of the three or four hours passed with his new friend, informed him of all the private history of the house of Ormond, with that same regard to veracity which in general characterises the accounts of the births, lives, and educations of persons of the higher classes, to be found in fashionable novels and other works drawn from the communications of such authorities as our friend Tom; and his companion offered as much commentary as is usually done on similar occasions. Proceeding in a twirling motion along, he could not but observe that the principal persons whom they met bowed most respectfully to the gentleman from the castle; and, on being assured that this token of deference was paid because they were tradesmen of the castle, who were indebted to the butler for his good word in their business, Tom's appreciation of his friend's abilities in the art of "improving" his situation was considerably enhanced. He calculated that if they made money by the butler, the butler made money by them; and he determined that on his return to Clonmell he too would find tradesfolks ready to take hats off to him in the ratio of pedagogue to peer.

The Kilkenny man steadied the Clonmell man to the Feathers, where the latter most potentially ordered a bowl of the best punch. The slipshod waiter stared; but a look from Tom's friend was enough. They were ushered into the best apartment of the house,--Tom remarking that it was a different room from that which he occupied on his arrival; and in a few minutes the master of the house, Mr. Mulvany, in his best array, made his appearance with a pair of wax candles in his hands. He bowed to the earth as he said,

"If I had expected you, my----"

"Leave the room," was the answer.

"Not before I order my bowl of punch," said Tom.

"Shall I, my----"

"Yes," said the person addressed; "whatever he likes."

"Well," said Tom, as Mulvany left the room, "if I ever saw anything to match that. Is he one of the tradespeople of the castle? This does bate everything. And, by dad, he's not unlike you in the face, neither! Och! then, what a story I'll have when I get back to Clonmell."

"Well, Tom," said his friend, "I may perhaps see you there; but good-b'ye for a moment. I assure you I have had much pleasure in your company."

"He's a queer fellow that," thought Tom, "and I hope he'll be soon back. It's a pleasant acquaintance I've made the first day I was in Kilkenny. Sit down, Mr. Mulvany," said he, as that functionary entered, bearing a bowl of punch, "and taste your brewing." To which invitation Mr. Mulvany acceded, nothing loth, but still casting an anxious eye towards the door.

"That's a mighty honest man," said Tom.

"I do not know what you mean," replied the cautious Mulvany; (for, "honest man" was in those days another word for Jacobite.)

"I mane what I say," said Tom; "he's just showed me over the castle, and gave me full and plenty of the best of eating and drinking. He tells me he's the butler."

"And so he is, you idiot of a man!" cried Mulvany. "He's the chief Butler of Ireland."

"What?" said Tom.

"Why, him that was with you just now is the Earl of Ormond."

My story is over--

"And James Fitzjames was Scotland's king."

All the potations pottle-deep, the road-side drinking, the champagne, the cognac, the punch of the Feathers, vanished at once from Tom's brain, to make room for the recollection of what he had been saying for the last three hours. Waiting for no further explanation, he threw up the window, (they were sitting on a ground-floor,) and, leaving Mr. Mulvany to finish the bowl as he pleased, proceeded at a hand-canter to Clonmell, not freed from the apparition of Lord Ormond before he had left Kilcash to his north; and nothing could ever again induce him to wander in the direction of Kilkenny, there to run the risk of meeting with his fellow-butler, until his lordship was so safely bestowed in the family vault as to render the chance of collision highly improbable. Such is my _Il Bondocani_. T. C. D.

THE LITTLE BIT OF TAPE.
BY RICHARD JOHNS, ESQ.

"Slow and sure" has been the motto of my family from generation to generation, and wonderfully has it prospered by acting on this maxim; the misfortunes of the house of Slowby having apparently been reserved for the only active and enterprising individual ever born unto that name. Reader, I am that unhappy man! Waiters upon Fortune, plentifully have all my progenitors fared from the dainties of the good lady's table; while I, in my anxiety to share in the feast, have generally upset the board, and lost every thing in the scramble.

Sir James Slowby, my worthy father, was a younger son, and his portion had been little more than the blessing of a parent, conveyed in the form of words always used in our family--"Bless thee, my son; be slow and sure, and you will be sure to get on." He did get on; for, was he not one of the feelers of that huge polypus in society, the Slowbys? Ways of making money, which other men had diligently sought in vain, discovered themselves to him; places were conferred on him, and legacies left him, for no one reason that could be discovered, except that he seemed indifferent to such matters, and latterly became so wealthy, that he did not require them. He was slow in marrying; not entering the "holy state" till he was forty. He did not wed a fortune: no! he rather preferred a woman of good expectations; and these were, of course, realised,--the money came "slow and sure." He lived to a good old age; but death, though slow, was sure also; and he at length died, leaving two sons: on one he bestowed all his wealth; the other, my luckless self, he left a beggarly dependent on an elder brother's bounty. The fact of the matter was, I had too much vivacity to please so true a Slowby as my father; while James was a man after his own heart: and, perhaps I had circulated a little too much of the old gentleman's money in what he strangely called my "loose kind of life;" but which I only denominated "living fast." He might have confessed that I was not altogether selfish in my pleasures. I often made my father most magnificent presents; and though, perhaps, he ultimately had to pay the bills, the generosity of the intention was the same.

The following letters were written just before our worthy parent's death, by his two sons. James was at the paternal mansion in ---- Square, I at a little road-side public-house about four and twenty miles from Newmarket. I must premise that I was thus far on my way to London, in answer to my brother's summons; but, at "Ugley" over the post-chaise went--a wheel was broken, and so was my left arm. The post-boys swore it was my fault, because I had not patience to have the wheels properly greased; and I, because it was my misfortune to be obliged to delay my journey till the mischief was repaired--I mean as regards the WEAL of my arm, not the wheel of the chaise,--for, had I been able, I would rather have ridden one of the post-horses to the next stage, than not have pursued my route.

"_---- Square._
MY DEAR BROTHER,--Your
father requests that you will take an early opportunity
of coming to town, as he is supposed to be on his
death-bed. His will only awaits your arrival to receive
signature. Should you solemnly promise not to dissipate
money as you have heretofore done, he will leave you a
gentlemanly competence. Dr. Druget is of opinion that
our father may live till Sunday next; so, if you are
here at any period before that date, you will be in
sufficient time for the above-mentioned purpose.
"Your affectionate brother, JAMES SLOWBY."

"DEAR JIM,--_You_ might think
it wise to delay my seeing our dear father, but _I_
did not;--so started at once,--double-fee'd the
post-boys,--double feed for the horses,--away I bowled,
till off came the wheel at Ugley. Here I am, with
a broken arm. Tell my father I am cut to the quick
that we may never meet again. I'll promise any thing
he likes. I now really see the folly of being always
in such a devil of a hurry; particularly in spending
money, paying bills, and that kind of thing: say that I
will now for ever stick by the family motto, 'slow and
sure.'
"Yours in haste, RICHARD SLOWBY."

"P.S. I send my own servant to ride whip
and spur till he puts this in your hands; he will
beat the post by an hour and a half, which is of
consequence."

This latter epistle never reached its destination,--my poor fellow broke his neck at Epping; and, as the letter was despatched in too great haste to be fully directed, it was opened and returned to me by the coroner in due course of post.

I did not get to town till long after the death of my father. The will signed at last, my absence being unaccounted for, gave my brother the whole property; nor did he seem inclined to part with a shilling. A place in the T----, which the head of our ancient house, Lord Snaile, had bestowed on my father, and still promised to keep in the family, might yet be mine,--I was his lordship's godson, and had a fair chance for it; but the now Sir James Slowby, second of the title, and worthy of the name, would not withdraw his claim as eldest born.

"I won't move in the matter, Richard," said my slow and sure brother; "but if my lord gives me the offer, I will accept it. I am not greedy after riches, Heaven knows; but it would be tempting Providence not to hold what is put into my possession, nor freely take what is freely given. His lordship has requested, by letter, that we both wait upon him in Curzon Street, no doubt about the appointment; he makes mention of wishing to introduce us to the ladies, after 'the despatch of business.' Our cousin Maria used to be lovely as a child, and, though not a fortune, may come in for something considerable, ultimately."

Such was my brother's harangue. Sick of his prosing I left his house, comforting myself that I had, at least, as much chance of the appointment as he had; nor was I altogether without my hopes of supplanting him with Maria, though _he_ might be worthy of wedding her at Marylebone; and I, even with her own special licence, would have to journey on the same errand as far as Gretna.

I dined that day at Norwood with an old schoolfellow. At his house I was to pass the night, and on the morrow, at two o'clock, my fate was to be decided. On this eventful morning I was set down in Camberwell by my friend's phaeton. I had seen the Norwood four-horse coach start for town long before we left home, and had given myself great credit for not allowing it to convey me that I might have from thence been enabled to intrude on Lord Snaile's privacy an hour or two before I was expected. But I recollected I had annoyed his lordship on more than one occasion in a similar manner, and I seriously resolved that I would no longer mar my fortunes by my precipitation. It was now, however, within two hours of the time of appointment; my friend's vehicle was not going any farther, and I might, at least, indulge myself by reaching Oxford Street by the quickest public conveyance. Omnibuses had just been introduced on that road; and the Red Rover, looking like a huge trap for catching passengers, was drawn up at the end of Camberwell Green. "Charing Cross, sir!"--"Oxford Street, sir!"--"Going directly, sir!" was music to my ears, even from the cracked voice of a cad, and in I unfortunately got; and there did I sit for ten minutes, while coaches innumerable, passed me for London. Still I preserved my patience, firm in my good resolves. At length another Westminster omnibus drove up.

"Are you going now; or are you not?" said I, very properly restraining an oath just on the tip of my tongue.

"Going directly, sir--be in town long before him, sir," said the cad, pointing to the other 'bus, for he saw my eye was turned towards it.

At that moment a simple-looking servant-girl with a bandbox came across the Green, and a fight commenced between the _conducteurs_ of the rival vehicles for the unfortunate woman, in which she got not a little pulled about. The Red Rover, however, won the day; and glad enough was I when we started, at a rattling pace. But my pleasure was of short duration.

"Where are you going?" asked an old women opposite me, who knew the road, which I did not.

"Going to take up, ma'am," said the cad. "We shall be back to the Green Man in ten minutes if you've left any thing behind."

"Where is my bandbox?" said the girl.

"I knows nothing about it, not I; I suppose it went by the other 'bus if you arn't a got it. Why did you let it out of your own hands, young 'oman? That 'ere cad is the greatest thief on the road."

The girl began to cry, and declared she should lose her place; and I to swear, for I thought it very likely I should lose mine. But we at length once more passed the Green, and tore along at the rate of ten miles an hour, till we set down passengers at the Elephant and Castle. Reader, do you happen to know a biscuit-shop occupying the corner of the road to Westminster, opposite the aforesaid Elephant and Castle? There it was, the Red Rover drew up, and the cad descended to run after a man and woman, who seemed undetermined whether they would take six-pennyworth or not. My patience was now quite exhausted. A four-horse Westminster coach was just starting across the way, and, determined to get a place in a more expeditious conveyance, I dashed open the door of the omnibus just as the _conducteur's_ "all right" again set the carriage in motion; he, having failed in his canvassing, at the same instant jumped on the step behind the 'bus. The consequences were direful. The cad was transferred to the pavement by a swingeing blow on the temple from the opening panel, while I lost my equilibrium, and made a full-length prostration into mud four inches thick, which formed the bed of the road. I had fallen face downward, and the infuriated official of the 'bus quickly bestrode me, grasping me by the nape of the neck. I gasped for breath. Never shall I forget what I then inhaled. To bite the dust is always disagreeable; but, I can assure you, it is nothing to a mouthful of mud. Rescued at last by the intervention of the police, I was permitted to rise. I had no time to dispute the question of right and wrong; glad enough was I to be allowed to medicate the cad's promissory black eye with a sovereign; for which I was declared by all present, and particularly by the man what rides behind the 'homnibus' "to be a perfect gemman, only a little hasty." Never was a gentleman in a worse pickle. The road had been creamed by the _reign_ of wet weather that marks an English summer. Had I been diving in a mud-cart, or "far into the bowels of the land," through the medium of a ditch in the neighbouring St. George's Fields, I could not have presented a more extraordinary appearance. I might have been rated as a forty-shilling landholder, and rich soil into the bargain. As soon as I could clear my eyes sufficiently to permit of the exercise of vision, I espied an old clothes' shop in the distance; and in this welcome retreat I speedily bestowed myself amid cries of "How are you off for soap?"--"There you go, stick-in-the-mud!"--"Where did you lie last?" and other specimens of suburban wit. Having left the admiring gaze of about two hundred spectators, I obtained a washing-tub and a private room from my newly-formed acquaintance, Isaacs; and, my ablutions being complete, I equipped myself in a full suit of black, which, though the habiliments were rather the worse for wear, fitted me pretty well, and had been, withal, decently made. I was also supplied with shirt and drawers, "goot ash new," and a hat which Isaacs swore was only made the week before, and "cheap ash dirt." I appreciated the simile, but the hat I could scarcely get on my head; time was however wearing away, and I was obliged to have it, as well as a pair of Blucher boots, not a Wellington fitting me in the Jew's whole stock of such articles. I again started. There happened to be a hackney-coach passing just as I emerged from the shop. This was fortunate; for, to hide my low boots, Isaacs had strapped my trousers down so tightly, that, not trusting much to the material, I thought it might be advisable to avoid walking.

I had yet sufficient time before me to keep my appointment, and I was now fairly on my way to Curzon Street; nothing interrupting my meditation for the next half hour but the paying of a turnpike. I had certainly met with many vexatious annoyances during the morning; but I felt pleased with myself for so far conquering my impetuous spirit as to have exhibited, on the whole, but little irritation under my suffering. For this, I thought I deserved to succeed in my present visit to that high-priest of Fortune, a patron. Then I bethought me of Maria, and took a glance at my suit of black. I fancied that I must look very like an undertaker,--I knew not why: I had imagined myself perfectly gentlemanly in appearance when I left my toilet at Norwood, and I had only changed one suit of black for another,--but then these were not made for me. Perhaps some poor fellow had been hanged in them. I got nervous and miserable.

My hat galled my head; I removed it, and held it in my hand. It certainly did not look like a new one. I was ingeniously tormenting myself with calling to memory every disease of the scalp I had ever heard of, when I reached the corner of Curzon Street; and, not wishing to desecrate the portals of the fastidious peer by driving up in a "Jarvey," I got out, and made my approach on foot. I had knocked--there was a delay in opening the door. The porter is out of the way, thought I; and I took an opportunity of looking at my heels, to see if I had walked off with any straws from the coach. I heard the door opening;--I say heard, for I did not look up, my eyes just then resting on a small _piece of tape_ that I had been dragging in the dirt--Oh! luckless appurtenance of the drawers of the Jew!--Yes! the door was opening to admit me to the presence of my noble relation--my patron--who I trusted was waiting with an appointment of 1500_l._ a-year, anxious to bestow it on his godson--the morning that was to witness my introduction to her whom I had already wedded in my imagination--I saw a little piece of tape dangling at my heels! Before the portals of the mansion had quite gaped to receive me, my finger was twisted round this cruel instrument of destiny, in the hope of breaking it. I pulled. Acting like a knife on the trousers, fast strapped to my boots, and too powerful a strain on the drawers, though "goot ash new," both were rent to the waistband;--my coat ripped at the shoulder by the action of my arm;--my hat fell off, and was taken by the wind down the street;--and the servant, to whom, having finished this ingenious operation, I stood fully disclosed, unfortunately saw but the effects, without knowing the cause of my disaster.

The man was too well-bred to remark my appearance, but he had every reason for thinking me either mad or drunk; as, to crown all, my face must have been flushed and distorted from rage and mortification.

"My lord expects you in the library, sir," said the astounded servant.

An abrupt "Tell my lord I'll call again" was my only reply, delivered over my shoulder as I dashed from the door, perfectly unconscious of what I was about, till I found myself in a tavern, the first friendly door that was open to receive me. I here composed my bewildered senses, despatched a messenger for a tailor, and set myself down to concoct a note to Lord Snaile. But how narrate to the most particular, matter-of-fact, and yet fastidious, man in the world the events of that morning? I threw the pen and paper from me in despair. Nothing now remained but to wait patiently, if possible, till I could make my excuses in person.

The tailor came, and in about an hour and a half I was again on my way to his lordship's residence; but alas! ere I reached it, I met my steady young brother, who with much formality thus addressed me.

"Richard Slowby, your conduct this morning is the climax of your excesses. His lordship requests that he may not in future be favoured with your visits in Curzon Street; and I consider it my duty to inform you, that these will be equally disagreeable in ---- Square."

I felt at that moment too proud to ask for, or offer, explanations. I saw by the twinkle of his cold grey eye that _he_ had received the appointment, and of course it would have been against his principles to resign it in my favour; so I merely told him that I should have great pleasure in attending to the wishes of two men I so _equally_ respected as Lord Snaile and Sir James Slowby: and, bidding him a very good morning, I left him to his self-gratulations.

About a twelvemonth afterwards, I elicited from the servant who had opened the door to me, and delivered my unfortunate message to his lordly master, the following particulars.

It appears that on the man entering the library he found the peer and the baronet seated together, the eyes of the former fixed on a time-piece, which told the startling fact that the hour of appointment was past, by five minutes. "Is Mr. Slowby come?" said my lord, turning suddenly towards the servant.

"Yes, my lord; but----"

"Show him in directly, sir. Did I not tell you I expected Mr. Slowby, and ordered him to be admitted?"

"I told the gentleman so, my lord, and that you were waiting for him, and he said he would call again. I am afraid the gentleman is unwell, my lord."

"Unwell!" cried his lordship, "and you allowed him to quit the house?"

"He ran away, my lord;" and here, not knowing how far it would be safe to give the conclusion he had drawn from my extraordinary manner and appearance, the man hesitated.

"Tell me why, this instant, sir," exclaimed his master; "there is some mystery, and I will know it."

"I beg pardon, my lord, but Mr. Slowby seemed much excited--was without his hat, had torn clothes--scarcely decent, my lord. I hope your lordship will excuse me, but the gentleman seemed flushed with after-dinner indulgence in the morning, my lord."

On this well-bred announcement of my being drunk, the peer and his companion exchanged significant looks.

"You may go," said my lord, bowing his head to the servant: but ere my informant got further than the neutral ground between the double doors, he heard my kind brother say, "Just like him;--dined yesterday at Norwood."

"A disgrace to the family!" sorrowfully remarked his lordship. "I had hoped to benefit him, but"--a pause--"the appointment is yours, Sir John. I could not trust it with a man of his character."

It is satisfactory to know the particulars of one's misfortunes, and these were given me at the "Bear" in Piccadilly. After being cut by all, as a graceless vagabond, when it was discovered that I had few meals to say grace over, I am now considered dead to society; but I am, in fact, "living for revenge." To spite the omnibuses, and abuse the cads at my leisure, I drive a short stage out of town; and if any gentleman knows one Dick Hastings, and will "please to remember the coachman," he who will drink to his honour's good health will be the luckless Richard Slowby.

HIPPOTHANASIA; OR, THE LAST OF TAILS.
A LAMENTABLE TALE; BY WILLIAM JERDAN.

"London and Brighton _Railway_ (quatuor);
Brighton and London _Railway_, without a tunnel;
Gateshead, South-Shields, and Monk-Wearmouth
_Railway_; London Grand-junction _Railway_; Northern
and Eastern _Railway_; Southeastern _Railway_; Great
Northern _Railway_; Great Western _Railway_; London
and Birmingham _Railway_; London and Greenwich
_Railway_; Croydon _Railway_; North-Midland _Railway_;
London and Blackwall _Railway_; Commercial-road
_Railway_; Wolverhampton and Dudley _Railway_;
Liverpool and Manchester _Railway_; Hull and Selby
_Railway_; Newcastle-upon-Tyne and Carlisle _Railway_;
Kingston-upon-Hull _Railway_; Durham Junction
_Railway_; Edinburgh and Glasgow _Railway_; Dublin and
Kingstown _Railway_; Dublin and Bantry Bay _Railway_;
London and Gravesend _Railway_; Commercial _Railway_;
Eastern Counties _Railway_; Llanelly _Railway_; London,
Salisbury and Exeter _Railway_; Preston and Wye
_Railway_; Bristol and Exeter _Railway_; Gravesend and
Dover _Railway_; Gravesend, Rochester, Chatham, and
Stroud _Railway_; London and Southampton _Railway_;
Gateshead and South Shields _Railway_; Cheltenham
and Great Western _Railway_; Lincoln _Railway_;
Leicester and Swannington _Railway_; Newcastle and
York _Railway_; Birmingham and Derby _Railway_;
Bolton and Leigh _Railway_; Canterbury and Whitstable
_Railway_; Clarence _Railway_; Cromford and Peak
Forest _Railway_; Edinburgh and Dalkeith _Railway_;
Dean Forest _Railway_; Hartlepool _Railway_; St.
Helens and Runc. Gap _Railway_; Manchester and Oldham
_Railway_; Preston and Wigan _Railway_; Stanhope and
Tyne _Railway_; Stockton and Darlington _Railway_;
Warrington and Newton _Railway_; the Grand Incomparable
North-southern, East-western _Railway_, with parallel
and radiating Branches," &c. &c. &c.

"It may be observed," (says a newspaper in our hand, quite as correctly informed as newspapers usually are,) "that the railway companies now forming, of which we have a list before us, require a capital of upwards of thirty millions of pounds, divided into nearly five hundred thousand shares."

This was in the year 1836; and the horror it excited in the race of horses, native and foreign, inhabitants of the British empire, is not to be described. A knowledge of the habits and intelligence of this species is only to be obtained from the writings of our matter-of-fact and lamented predecessor, Captain Lemuel Gulliver, whose travels among the Houyhnhnms, rather more than a century ago, may have been heard of by a few of our antiquarian and classical readers. To that work we would refer, to show that Houyhnhnm is "the perfection of nature;" which truth will partly account for the following melancholy narrative. "I admired" (the author writes) "the strength, comeliness, and speed of the inhabitants; and such a constellation of virtues in such amiable persons, produced in me the highest veneration."

Having the view of horse-flesh which this preface opens, though we have not had an opportunity of studying it so purely under our mixed government, breeds, and circumstances, it is unnecessary to explain the panic which arose on the announcement of so universal a system of railways to supersede the noble animal in every beneficial and elegant office, and reduce it to the condition of a useless sinecurist, even if permitted to live on human bounty. The result was that, when the severities of winter fell thick and fast, a convocation was held by moonlight in Smithfield, and adjourned, owing to the multitude, to Horselydown, (so called from King John being tumbled off his nag by that process in that locality,) and, after a most interesting discussion, it was unanimously resolved that every horse in Great Britain should die. Wherefore should they live? Steam-boats had thrown the wayfaring trackers out of hay; steam-ploughs, the agricultural labourers out of oats; steam-carriages, the best of posters out of employment; steam guns, the military out of service; steam-engines, the mechanics out of mills and factories;--in short, their occupations were gone, and they knew not where they could get a bit to their mouths. Wherefore should they live!

The resolution having been communicated throughout the country, and an hour appointed for the catastrophe, though it had nigh broken the hearts of some petted ponies and favourites, it was obeyed with all the stubborn _sted_-fastness of this illustrious creature. Racers and hunters, coach and cart, high-bred and low, drays and galloways, saddle and side ditto, Suffolk punches and dogsmeat, cobs and cabs, hacks and shelties, respectables and rips, old and young, stallions, mares, geldings, colts, foals, and fillies,--all perished at the same time. O'Connell's tail was the only one that remained extant in England, Wales, Scotland, and Ireland; but this our tale hath no reference to that. It may be inquired by the physiologist what were the means of death to which the abhorrence of steam induced the horses to resort; and it is gratifying to be able to satisfy their thirst for knowledge by stating that they died of the _Vapours_.

But we now come to the extraordinary results which must spring from the fatal fact we have just recorded. "_What next?_" as the political pamphleteer sayeth:--ay, _what next_? How will the country go on? _What will the Lords do_--without horses?

The revolution produced by the event was immediately felt in every part of the empire, in every pursuit, in every trade, in every amusement. Within four-and-twenty hours, the isle was frighted from her propriety, and England could no longer be recognised for herself. It is true that the crown remained; but how shorn of its beams! And then the whole _Equestrian_ order had been destroyed at a blow. Talk of swamping the Peers! it was done, and they could dragoon the representatives of the people no more. And in proportion to their fall was the rise of the _Commoners_. Not a donkey-man whose ass fed on these wastes, but found himself in a higher and more powerful position. When horses are out of the field, great is the increase of the value of asses. The brutes, it is true, are still long-eared, obstinate, devoid of speed, rat-tailed, and stupid; but, in the absence of nobler beasts, whatever is, must be first. And so it now happened. The huckster, the gipsy, the higgler, the donkey-driver of Margate, the costermonger, the sandman, every asinine possessor mounted in the scale, as it fell out, with a one or more ass power, and the scum became the top of the boiling-pot of society, who all at once found themselves gentlemen of property and influence. Little had the superior classes dreamed how entirely their dignity and consequence depended on their "cattle;" but now, when a Wellington, a Grey, a Melbourne, an Anglesey, a Jersey, a Cavendish, a Fane, a Somerset, had to trudge on foot through the muddy streets, whilst the Scrogginses, the Smiths, the Gileses, the Toms, Bills, and Charleys honoured them with a nod and a splash as they scampered by, shouting "Go it, Neddy!" it was sadly demonstrated to them, and to the world, that their former personal vanity, pride, and presumption had been built on a false foundation; for it was not themselves, but their fine and noble horses, that had won the observance and submissiveness of their fellow men unmounted.

The instant effects of the hippo-hecatomb in every circle and business of life were as remarkable as they were important. No previous imagination could have suggested a homoeopathic part of the vast change. His Majesty had decided to open parliament, not by proxy, but in person,--that is to say, he was to proceed to the House in royal state, and read his speech as if it were his own, instead of leaving it to five gentlemen in large cloaks, as if it were theirs, and he ashamed to march through Coventry with them; but, alas the day! the cream-coloured steeds were all dead, and the blacks were as pale as the cream. Windsor awoke in affright and dismay. There were the royal carriages, and there the coachmen, and there the grooms, and there the hussars; but where were the horses? Gone! It was a moment for an ebullition of loyalty, and we record it as an everlasting honour to their young patriotic feelings, that the boys at Eton, in this mighty emergency, respectfully offered their services to drag the King to London, providing the head-master sat upon the box as driver, and the ushers clustered behind, in the character of the footmen. A council held on the proposition decided that the task would be too much for the tender years of the Etonians, and especially as drawing had hardly been taught in that classic establishment; so that, instead of being competent to draw a monarch, there was not a boy in the school who could draw anything. At Woolwich it was quite the reverse. In the increasing dilemma,--for his Majesty declined the walk, and the route by the river could not be performed in time,--it was resolved to despatch one of the royal messengers on the swiftest ass which the town could produce, and order a short prorogation till measures could be adopted to meet the awful exigences of the crisis.

In London, meanwhile, the consternation was equally overwhelming, if not more so. Ministers met in cabinet, but, as usual, knew not what to do; and so agreed to lie by, a bit, and see how matters might shape their own course. The First Lord of the Treasury and three secretaries sat down to a rubber of long whist, half-crown points; the Lord President of the Council, First Lord of the Admiralty, President of the Board of Control, Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster, and Lord Privy Seal, preferred three-card loo; and the Chancellor of the Exchequer and the President of the Board of Trade had a capital _tête-à-tête_ bout at brag. The other officers of state employed themselves as they could, from the Lord High Chancellor to the store-keepers and under-secretaries. And meanwhile the public mind, that is to say, all the mind inside the hats of the mob about Whitehall and Westminster, was in a tumult of excitement. Two o'clock struck, and no guns were heard: three, and the patereros were dumb. The clock of the Horse Guards--the Horse Guards! a name of departed glory and present woe!--told the hour in vain; till, just as it gave warning for four, a breathless and panting ass was seen galloping into Downing street. It bore the express from Windsor, who by prodigious exertions had accomplished the journey in less than seven hours. The unfinished rubber was broken up, to the heavy mortification of the First Lord, who scored eight, and was looking forward to a call of the honours; the loo-scores were balanced and settled, the First Lord of the Admiralty pocketing the profits, in consequence of taking one for his heels as the donkey turned up; and "I brag" fell no more from Exchequer or Trade. But it was already too late to restore order; and confusion in the midst of deliberation only became worse confounded. Extraneous calamities every instant interfered. No mails had arrived, and very few peeresses. The letters containing friendly assurances from foreign governments were in post-offices, Heaven knew at what distances. Such of the ministers, bachelor as well as married, as were directed by their grey mares, had no opportunity for consulting and receiving their commands, though it must have been in some degree a consolation to feel that they remained amid the wreck of horse-flesh. In short, in politics, as at cards, the game was up. The English constitution was not the constitution of a horse, and it gave way before the frightful revolution; and, to add to the individual horrors of the scene, the Master of the Buckhounds, the Master of the Horse, the Postmaster-General, and the Master of the Rolls (why _he_, could never be conjectured) committed suicide in the course of the ensuing night; and the Lord Chancellor became a confirmed lunatic, under his own care.

It were tedious to trace all the varieties of aspects into which this awful event plunged the nation: a few, briefly described, may suffice to indicate its universal extent and terrible alterations. Routs, ball, at homes, operas, and every fashionable amusement and resort were abrogated. The ladies of the land were bowed to the ground. Visits could not be paid: to dress was unnecessary. There was no crush-room; and milliners, mantua-makers, perfumers, and jewellers were crushed. Seventeen old sedan-chairs were the total that could be discovered in London; and these, with the succedaneum suggested by the witty Countess of ----, viz. mounting such of the porters' hall-chairs as were susceptible of the improvement upon poles, in a similar manner, constituted the whole migrations of the fashionable world. We will not allude to the meetings baulked, and the assignations broken, through this unfortunate state of things; and are only sorry to say it did not add to the sum of domestic felicity.

The Park--dismal was the Park! Exquisites, more helpless than ever, tottered along its almost deserted walks. There was not one who,

----With left heel insidiously aside,
Provoked the caper he would seem to chide;

nor was there a pretty woman to smile at him if he had. Could the race have obtained asses, it would have been most unnatural to ride them; and thus they vanished from the vision of society.

Ascot was not particularly unhappy, though the King's cup was a cup of dregs. But Bentinck and Crocky, Richmond and Gully, Exeter and Lamb, Rutland and ----, Jersey and ----, Chesterfield and the rest of the legs, got up an excellent two days' sport. Running in sacks afforded ample opportunities for betting heavily; and wheelbarrow races, with the barrow-drivers blindfolded or partially enlightened, were found quite as good as anything which had been done before, and allowing quite as much scope for the honourable strategies of the turf. An immense number of useless horsecollars were brought to be grinned through; and the books of literature and intelligence surpassed, if anything, those of other times.

At Epsom, the old and general patrons of that course having now the ascendency, indulged in donkey races, at which the poor nobility gazed with speechless regret. The last were truly the first, here.

Among the instances of individual ruin, none was more unentertaining than that of Mr. Ducrow. Reduced to a single zebra, he was obliged to turn wanderer and mendicant; the stripes of Misfortune were vividly impressed upon him. Circuses and amphitheatres ceased; and the dragon was more than a match for the poor horseless St. George. What a symbol of the decline of England, when even her patron saint must yield to a Saurian reptile!

Of all human beings affected by the calamity, deep as were the afflictions of others, perhaps those who evinced the most sensitive and overpowering feelings on the occasion, were the butchers' boys. As a class, they evidently suffered beyond the rest. Betrayed, unsupported, and wretched, they trudged under the heavy burthens of fate, as if the world--as indeed in one sense it was--were out of joint for them. The centaurs of antiquity were destroyed by a demigod; but the modern centaurs had nothing to soothe their pride. They were hurled down, but living and without a hope. Poor lads! every heart bled for them.