Comical People Part 2

All down the broad walk in Kensington Gardens, all across by the flower-gardens, and all up the path by the ha-ha, Lady Angora talked of nothing but the impudence of the Tortosh.e.l.ls, vowing and protesting that nothing on earth should induce her to visit them. But her good-natured husband was more inclined to treat the matter as a joke, and, by dint of persuasion and raillery, before they reached home he had induced Lady Angora to accept the invitation "for this once." A polite answer was, therefore, immediately despatched.

The week elapsed. Mrs. Tabitha had worked herself into a perfect fever of anxiety; and her poor daughters, Minnie and Katty, were tired to death with their labour in carrying out their mother's injunctions. The dinner-hour was fixed for six o'clock. At half-past five Mrs. Tabitha was still adding vermicelli to the soup, Minnie and Katty were still turning out jellies and blanc-manges, and Sappy the footman was still cleaning the plate. Mr. Tortosh.e.l.l was sitting uneasily by the window endeavouring to read "The Times," and young Tom was flying home from the City in a Hansom's cab at the rate of twelve miles an hour.

At a quarter past six, Mr. De Mousa and Lady Angora arrived. Neither Mrs. Tortosh.e.l.l nor her daughters were ready to receive them. Sappy was in his shirt-sleeves, and the maids were not fit to be seen; so Mr.

Tortosh.e.l.l had to open the door, receive his company, and usher them into his drawing-room himself. Mr. De Mousa looked at his watch and said he was afraid they were early, which rather confused Mr. Tortosh.e.l.l; but the cousins soon got to talking of the beautiful weather, and the beautiful moonlight nights, and Lady Angora amused herself by playing with a young kitten on the hearth-rug.

At half-past six Mr. Tortosh.e.l.l said he really must see why his wife and daughter did not come, and for that purpose left the room. Lady Angora looked at her husband, who, well-bred as he was, could not help observing, with a broad smile, that "such manners were enough to make a cat laugh."

At length Mrs. Tabitha and her two daughters appeared, very smartly dressed, but not very much at their ease, and a moment afterwards Sappy announced dinner. Mr. De Mousa escorted Mrs. Tabitha with much graceful dignity, and Mr. Tortosh.e.l.l followed with Lady Angora; Young Tom just rushing into the room in time to offer his attendance to his sisters, who could not but wonder what extraordinary business could have kept him so late in the City. Dinner was served. The rats'-tail soup was burnt; Lady Angora could not touch it: but Sappy, in removing the plate, managed to spill a considerable quant.i.ty over her ladyship's dress. The fish was overdone on one side, and nearly raw on the other; so her ladyship could not eat that. The fowls were old and tough; the venison had not been hung long enough, and Minnie had forgotten the currant-jelly. The blanc-mange and the ices had somehow been placed near the kitchen fire; and, to crown all, Lady Angora declared that the only dish she cared for was frica.s.seed mice. Mrs. Tabitha, excited to desperation, jumped up from her seat with an expression of horror, as though she had been dining with a cannibal; but the effort was too much for her, for she immediately fell back in a swoon. Minnie flew to her mamma's a.s.sistance, Katty rushed for the eau de Cologne, old Tom and young Tom both rang the bells, and did nothing but create confusion; and Mr. De Mousa and Lady Angora, without staying for a formal leave-taking, quitted the room and the house with evident precipitation.

Since that day the cousins have not visited. Mr. Tortosh.e.l.l has discovered that a carriage is not so _very_ economical; and when by chance he meets Mr. De Mousa, his attention is sure to be attracted by something on the top of a neighbouring house. Mrs. Tabitha often reads of Lady Angora in the "Morning Post," but she has never been heard to mention that her ladyship has dined at Cypress Cottage.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE MARRIAGE SETTLEMENT.]

ROOKWOOD HALL.

IN a quiet village in c.u.mberland, far retired from the great world, there stands a n.o.ble old red-brick mansion, partly in ruins, and mostly covered with ivy, which ever attracts the attention of the wayfarer who pa.s.ses through that remote district. For many years Rookwood Hall--so is it called--has been in the possession of the ancient family of the Rookes; father and son have grown up beneath the shade of the grand old elms that line the majestic avenue and all but surround the mansion, and the bones of twenty generations of Rookes now lie together beneath the adjacent sod. Five years since the last of the family, Sir Whitewing Rooke, was killed as he was returning towards home on a quiet autumn evening. He was found lying under one of the tall elm-trees in the avenue, pierced with a bullet that had pa.s.sed through his heart. Whether this occurred by accident or design, no one could ever tell; but there were dark suspicions afloat, and rumour said that the Rookes were not without their enemies.

Lady Rooke, the childless widow, mourned long for her husband, rarely ventured beyond the boundary of the park, but spent most of her time in endeavouring to benefit the neighbouring farmers, who had not grat.i.tude enough even to thank her for her services.

There was one exception. Young Gamec.o.c.k, the owner of a small estate adjoining Rookwood Park, was full of grat.i.tude, and often called upon Lady Rooke to thank her for her kindness. Mr. Gamec.o.c.k was an exceedingly good-looking fellow, dressed handsomely, always wore spurs, and had more manners than any other farmer within twenty miles; and, therefore, it is not to be wondered at that Lady Rooke somewhat encouraged these grat.i.tude-visits. Her Ladyship often complained how dull and lonely she was, living without a protector in that old mansion, whose walls were covered with ghastly portraits of departed Rookes; and whose ancient cas.e.m.e.nts rattled at night when the wind blew in its fitful fancies, and made the very stairs groan as it rushed up and down in its capricious impetuosity.

Young Gamec.o.c.k listened to the good dame's stories, told her _he_ knew no fear, that the wind might whistle as it willed for him; and that if he owned such a mansion, that the old pictures should decorate the garrets, where the bats and sparrows held undisputed possession.

At last people began to notice that young Gamec.o.c.k went very often to Rookwood Hall, and many surmises were soon afloat. Mr. Crow, a cousin of the deceased Baronet's, laughed at the silly talk, as he called it, and said that her Ladyship was about to make Mr. Gamec.o.c.k her bailiff.

Mr. Howlet, the solicitor from the neighbouring village, shook his head, looked "wondrous wise," but said nothing; and that pert gentleman, Mr.

Sparrow, reported that he had peeped in at the window one day, and knew more than he chose to tell. So matters went on for a time. At last, one fine day Mr. Howlet was seen to drive up to the Hall, and take in with him a large doc.u.ment. The whole village was astir: something must be going on, every one said; and within two days it was known that the doc.u.ment in question was a marriage-settlement, and that the wedding of Lady Rooke and young Mr. Gamec.o.c.k was to take place in the following week.

Alas, for the uncertainty of this world! No sooner did the news of the approaching marriage reach the ears of Mrs. Partlett and her daughters--the aunt and cousins of Mr. Gamec.o.c.k--than they vowed it should never be. It appears that Mr. Gamec.o.c.k had long been affianced to Miss Hennie Partlett, and the news of his desertion so preyed on her delicate const.i.tution, that she pined away and lost all her good looks.

Fired at the indignity offered to his family, her brother Redcomb sought his opportunity, met Mr. Gamec.o.c.k as he was crossing the lawn in front of Rookwood Hall, and challenged him to mortal combat. Gamec.o.c.k, in haste to visit his betrothed, pa.s.sed on without heeding his adversary; but the valiant Redcomb flew at him, and with one stroke beat him to the earth. Gamec.o.c.k rose, shook himself, and attacked Redcomb with such impetuosity, that at first he retreated; but, collecting his strength, he returned to the attack, and Gamec.o.c.k again bit the dust. Lady Rooke was sitting by a window, watching for the arrival of her lover, whence she saw the whole of this deadly contest. At Gamec.o.c.k's second fall she flew to his rescue, and arrived just as a fresh battle was begun. Urged by her fears for her beloved, her Ladyship threw herself between the combatants; but it was at a most unlucky moment, for a blow from Redcomb struck her on the temples, and she fell senseless between them. The combatants forgot their quarrel, and carried the poor lady into the room; a messenger was despatched for Dr. Stork, but before he could arrive, her Ladyship had breathed her last.

Rookwood Hall pa.s.sed into another family of the Rookes, distantly related; and after two years dallying, Miss Hennie Partlett, forgetting former grievances, became Mrs. Gamec.o.c.k, and Redcomb gave her away.

[Ill.u.s.tration: MR. TRUNK AND HIS ADVISERS.]

CITY PEOPLE.

MR. TRUNK, the great East India merchant, is an individual of immense weight in the City. Wherever he appears the crowd make way for him, and bestow upon him marked attention. His particular friend is old Mr.

Parrot, whose connexions lie with the West Indies and South America, and who boasts of his relationship with the celebrated Macaw family.

Whenever there is a sudden rise in sugar or tobacco, Mr. Parrot immediately goes on 'Change to consult his great friend, Mr. Trunk, as to the course he should pursue; and the united wisdom of the two merchants generally produces a result favourable to Mr. Parrot's interests.

Mr. Trunk lives in a large house in the Regent's Park, where he entertains very many visitors, in a way peculiar to himself, his chief pleasure consisting in the offer of his carriage for a ride round his beautiful gardens; for which, by way of joke, he always demands a cake or a bun from each visitor. His son, too, Master Suckling Trunk, contributes much to the gratification of the guests; and certainly he is a very amusing youth, such as one does not often meet with.

Two years ago Mr. Trunk was greatly annoyed by the arrival of a young black prince from the banks of the Nile, who took a house close by him in the Park, and, much to Mr. Trunk's mortification, completely outshone him in the grandeur of his entertainments. All the fashionable and mercantile world flocked to the mansion of Prince Ippo, and considered it a great condescension if His Highness would but favour them with a sight of his eyes and ears.

The great Mr. Trunk, he who had never known a rival near his throne, felt deeply the slight cast upon him, and vowed to be revenged on his sable adversary. He talked of his grievance to old Mr. Parrot, till that worthy felt as indignant as his friend; but, as he could suggest no method of vengeance, Mr. Trunk called to his counsel, the celebrated City conveyancer, Mr. Starling.

"You see, sir," said old Mr. Parrot, when the three had met in consultation, "this black young fellow is an upstart; he has nothing to recommend him but his exceeding ugliness and his extreme inhospitality.

Do you know, sir," he continued, addressing the conveyancer, "some ladies of my family paid him a visit the other day, and the brute--yes, sir, I say the brute--had the ill manners to send word by his attendant that His Highness was in the bath and would not be disturbed?"

"I wonder," growled Mr. Trunk, "that, as the ladies had so much curiosity, they did not go and see him in his bath."

"Well, the fact is," replied Mr. Parrot, "that they did try, but the monster would only just show them the tip of his nose."

"He has become quite a nuisance to the neighbourhood," said Mr. Trunk.

"I wonder," observed the conveyancer, "if the Alderman could put him down?"

"Put _him_ down!" growled Trunk again; "the fellow's too fat. You might as well try to put down a whale!"

"Then what can _we_ do?" said the conveyancer. "Could we manage to drown him in his bath?"

"A likely idea!" returned the great merchant. "Do you not know that the fellow lives half his life in the water, and can swim as well as a fish?"

"Can we bring an action for ejectment?" suggested Mr. Starling. "Can we not discover some flaw in his t.i.tle-deeds?"

"I wish you'd try," answered the merchant. And the result of this conspiracy against the offending Prince was, that Mr. Starling, by some means best known to himself, obtained a copy of the t.i.tle-deeds he wanted, and soon picked two or three holes in them.

This good news he quickly communicated to the City merchants, who were delighted beyond measure. An action was immediately commenced against Prince Ippo, who did not seem in the least concerned about it, but took his bath and drank his twenty bottles a-day as usual. The conveyancer met with but little opposition, and gained the day.

Mr. Trunk and old Parrot were in raptures at the result. They warmly congratulated Mr. Starling, and the three conspirators rejoiced over a handsome dinner, which the great merchant gave on the occasion. But, alas! their delight was of short duration: the friends of Prince Ippo took up his cause, appealed against the decision, and after two trials, threw the case into Chancery.

There it is likely to remain.

[Ill.u.s.tration: MR. PORCUPINE'S STUDIO.]

THE PORTRAIT-PAINTER.

MANY years ago there lived a celebrated artist who became very famous for his portraits of the great men of the day. His name was Porcupine.

It is recorded, that n.o.blemen of the highest rank used to visit his studio, take luncheon with him, and honour him with their criticism.

In his earlier time he was much patronised by two of the great n.o.bility, both members of the Dilettante Society, who did much to bring the young artist into notice--these were the great Lord Forestking and the well-remembered Sir Hyde Jungle. His Lordship's patronage had, in the first instance, been solicited for Mr. Porcupine by an eccentric individual, a Mr. Munkey, a hanger-on of the aristocracy, who aped their manners, but who had little of his own. He had met with Porcupine in the country, had expressed great admiration at his peculiar talent, and promised, if he would visit London, to introduce him to the very first society. Mr. Porcupine, innocently believing him, left his country hedgerows, and took a garret in a back-street in London. It was here that Lord Forestking first visited him, and gave him the commission to paint his portrait.