Ten Thousand a-Year Volume I Part 25

If you'd studied the thing, you'd know, sir, that purple is the middle color between green and black. Indeed, black's only purple and green mixed, which explains the whole thing!" t.i.tmouse listened with infinite satisfaction to this unanswerable and truly philosophical account of the matter.

"Remember, sir--my hair is to come like yours--eh? you recollect, sir?

Honor--that was the bargain, you know!"

"I have very little doubt of it, sir--nay, I am certain of it, knowing it by experience."

[The scamp had been hired expressly for the purpose of lying thus in support of the Cyanochaitanthropopoion; his own hair being a _natural_ black.]

"I'm going to a grand dinner to-morrow, sir," said t.i.tmouse, "with some devilish great people at the west end of the town--eh? you understand?

will it do by that time? Would give a trifle to get my hair a shade darker by that time--for--hem!--most lovely gal--eh? you understand the thing?--devilish anxious, and all that sort of thing, you know!"

"Yes--I do," replied the gentleman of the shop, in a confidential tone; and opening one of the gla.s.s doors behind him, took out a bottle considerably larger than the first, and handed it to t.i.tmouse. "This,"

said he, "will complete the thing; it combines chemically with the purple particles, and the result is--generally arrived at in about two days' time"----

"But it will do _something_ in a night's time--eh!--surely."

"I should think so! But here it is--it is called the TETARAGMENON ABRACADABRA."

"What a name!" exclaimed t.i.tmouse, with a kind of awe. "'Pon honor, it almost takes one's breath away"----

"It will do more, sir; it will take your red hair away! By the way, only the day before yesterday, a lady of high rank, (between ourselves, Lady Caroline Carrot,) whose red hair always seemed as if it would have set her bonnet in a blaze--ha, ha!--came here, after two days' use of the Cyanochaitanthropopoion, and one day's use of this Tetaragmenon Abracadabra--and asked me if I knew her. Upon my soul I did not, till she solemnly a.s.sured me she was really Lady Caroline!"

"_How_ much is it?" eagerly inquired t.i.tmouse, thrusting his hand into his pocket, with no little excitement.

"Only nine-and-sixpence."

"Oh, my stars, what a price! Nine-and-six"----

"Ah, but would you have believed it, sir? This extraordinary fluid cost a great German chemist his whole life to bring to perfection; and it contains expensive materials from all the four corners of the world!

It's ruined the proprietor long ago!"

"That may be--but really--I've laid out a large figure with you, sir, this day or two! Couldn't you say eight sh"----

"We never abate, sir; it's not _our_ style of doing business," replied the gentleman, in a manner that quite overawed poor t.i.tmouse, who at once bought this, the third abomination; not a little depressed, however, at the heavy prices which he had paid for the three bottles, and the uncertainty he felt as to the ultimate issue. That night he was so well satisfied with the progress which he was making with his hair, (for, by candle light, it really looked much darker than could have been expected,) that he resolved--at all events for the present--to leave well alone; or at the utmost, to try the effects of the Tetaragmenon Abracadabra only upon his eyebrows and whiskers. Into them he rubbed the new specific; which, on the bottle being opened, surprised him in two respects: first, it was perfectly colorless; secondly, it had a most infernal smell. It was, however, no use hesitating: he had bought and paid for it; and the papers in which it was folded gave an account of its success that was really irresistible and unquestionable. Away, therefore, he rubbed; and when he had finished, got into bed, in humble hope as to the result, which would be disclosed by the morning's light.

But, alas! would you have believed it? When he looked at himself in the gla.s.s, about six o'clock on the ensuing morning, (at which hour he awoke,) I protest it is a fact, that his eyebrows and whiskers were as white as snow; which, combined with the purple color of the hair on his head, rendered him one of the most astounding objects (in human shape) the eye of man had ever beheld. There was the wisdom of age seated in his white eyebrows and whiskers, unspeakable youthful folly in his features, and a purple crown of WONDER on his head.

Really, it seemed as if the devil were wreaking his spite on Mr.

t.i.tmouse; nay, perhaps it was the devil himself who had served him with the bottles in Bond Street. Or was it a mere ordinary servant of the devil--some greedy, impudent, unprincipled speculator, who, desirous of acting on the approved maxim--_Fiat experimentum in corpore vili_--had pitched on t.i.tmouse (seeing the sort of person he was) as a G.o.dsend, quite reckless what effect might be produced on his hair, so as the stuff were paid for, and its effects noted? It might possibly have been sport to the gentleman of the shop, but it was near proving death to poor t.i.tmouse, who might possibly have resolved on throwing himself out of the window, only that he saw it was not big enough for a baby to get through. He turned aghast at the monstrous object which his little gla.s.s presented to him; and sank down upon the bed with the feeling that he was now fit for death. As before, Mrs. Squallop made her appearance with his kettle for breakfast. He was sitting at the table dressed, and with his arms folded, with a reckless air, not at all caring to conceal the new and still more frightful change which he had undergone since she saw him last. Mrs. Squallop stared at him for a second or two in silence; then, stepping back out of the room, suddenly drew to the door, and stood outside, laughing vehemently.

"I'll kick you down-stairs!" shouted t.i.tmouse, rushing to the door pale with fury, and pulling it open.

"Mr.--Mr.--t.i.tmouse, you'll be the death of me--you will--you will!"

gasped Mrs. Squallop, almost black in the face, and the water running out of the kettle, which she was unconsciously holding aslant. After a while, however, they got reconciled. Mrs. Squallop had fancied he had been but rubbing chalk on his eyebrows and whiskers; and seemed dismayed, indeed, on hearing the true state of the case. He implored her to send out for a small bottle of ink; but as it was Sunday morning none could be got;--she knew that no one in the court used ink, and she teased him to try a little _blacking_! He did--but it was useless!--He sat for an hour or two, in an ecstasy of grief and rage. What would he now have given never to have meddled with the hair which Heaven had thought fit to send him into the world with? Alas, with what mournful force Mrs. Squallop's words again and again recurred to him! To say that he ate breakfast would be scarcely correct. He drank a single cup of cocoa, and ate a small fragment of roll, and then put away his breakfast things on the window shelf. If he had been in the humor to go to church, how could he? He would have been turned out as an object involuntarily exciting everybody to laughter!

Yet, poor soul, in this extremity of misery, he was not utterly neglected; for he had that morning quite a little levee. First came Mr.

Snap, who, having quite as keen and clear an eye for his own interest as his senior partners, had early seen how capable was an acquaintance with t.i.tmouse of being turned to his (Snap's) great advantage. He had come, therefore, dressed very stylishly, to do a little bit of toadying on the sly, (on his own exclusive account;) and had brought with him, for the edification of t.i.tmouse, a copy of that day's _Sunday Flash_, which contained a long account of a b.l.o.o.d.y fight between Birmingham Bigbones and London Littlego, for 500 a-side, (sixty rounds had been fought, both men killed, and their seconds had bolted to Boulogne.) Poor Snap, however, though he had come with the best intentions, and the most anxious wish to evince profound respect for the future master of ten thousand a-year, was quite taken by storm by the very first glimpse he got of t.i.tmouse, and could not for a long while recover himself. He had come to ask t.i.tmouse to dine with him at a tavern in the Strand, where there was to be capital singing in the evening; and also to accompany him, on the ensuing morning, to the Old Bailey, to hear "a most interesting trial" for bigamy, in which Snap was concerned for the prisoner--a miscreant, who had been married to five living women!! Snap conceived (and very justly) that it would give t.i.tmouse a striking idea of his (Snap's) importance, to see him so much, and apparently so familiarly concerned with well-known counsel. In his own terse and quaint way, he was explaining to t.i.tmouse the various remedies he had against the Bond Street impostor, both by indictment and action on the case, nay, (getting a little, however, beyond his depth,) he a.s.sured the eager t.i.tmouse, that a bill of discovery would lie in equity, to ascertain what the Tetaragmenon Abracadabra was composed of, with a view to his preferring an indictment against its owner, when his learned display was interrupted by a double knock, and--oh, mercy on us!--enter Mr. Gammon. Whether he or Snap felt more disconcerted, I cannot say; but Snap _looked_ the most confused and sneaking. Each told the other a lie, in as easy, good-natured a way as he could a.s.sume, concerning the object of his visit to t.i.tmouse. Thus they were going on, when--another knock--and, "Is this Mr. t.i.tmouse's?" inquired a voice, which brought a little color into the face of both Gammon and Snap; for it was absolutely old Quirk, who bustled breathless into the room, on his first visit, and seemed completely confounded by the sight of both his partners. What with this, and the amazing appearance presented by t.i.tmouse, Mr. Quirk was so overwhelmed that he scarce spoke a syllable.

Each of the three partners felt (in his own way) exquisite embarra.s.sment. Huckaback, some time afterwards, made his appearance; but _him_ t.i.tmouse unceremoniously dismissed in a twinkling, in spite of a vehement remonstrance. Behold, however, presently another arrival--Mr.

Tag-rag!! who had come to announce that his carriage (_i. e._ a queer, rickety, little one-horse chaise, with a tallow-faced boy in it, in faded livery) was waiting to convey Mr. t.i.tmouse to Satin Lodge, and take him a long drive in the country! Each of these four worthies could have spit in the other's face: first, for _detecting_, and secondly, for _rivalling_ him in his schemes upon t.i.tmouse. A few minutes after the arrival of Tag-rag, Gammon, half-choked with disgust, and despising himself even more than he despised his fellow-visitors, slunk off, followed almost immediately by Quirk, who was dying to consult him on this new aspect of affairs which had presented itself. Snap (who ever since the arrival of Messrs. Quirk and Gammon had felt like an ape on hot irons) very shortly followed in the footsteps of his partners, having made no engagement whatever with t.i.tmouse; and thus the enterprising and determined Tag-rag was left master of the field. He had in fact come to _do business_, and business he determined to do. As for Gammon, during the short time he had stayed, how he had endeared himself to t.i.tmouse, by explaining, not aware that t.i.tmouse had confessed all to Snap, the singular change in the color of his hair to have been occasioned simply by the intense mental anxiety through which he had lately pa.s.sed! The touching anecdotes he told of sufferers, whose hair a single night's agony had changed to all the colors of the rainbow!

Though Tag-rag outstayed all his fellow-visitors, in the manner which has been described, he could not prevail upon t.i.tmouse to accompany him in his "carriage," for t.i.tmouse pleaded a pressing engagement, (_i. e._ a desperate attempt he purposed making to obtain some _ink_,) but pledged himself to make his appearance at Satin Lodge at the appointed hour (half-past three or four o'clock.) Away, therefore, drove Tag-rag, delighted that Satin Lodge would so soon contain so resplendent a visitor--indignant at the cringing, sycophantic attentions of Messrs.

Quirk, Gammon, and Snap, against whom he resolved to put t.i.tmouse on his guard, and infinitely astonished at the extraordinary change which had taken place in the color of t.i.tmouse's hair. Partly influenced by the explanation which Gammon had given of the phenomenon, Tag-rag resigned himself to feelings of simple wonder. t.i.tmouse was doubtless pa.s.sing through stages of physical transmogrification, corresponding with the marvellous change that was taking place in his circ.u.mstances; and for all he (Tag-rag) knew, other and more extraordinary changes were going on; t.i.tmouse might be growing at the rate of half an inch a-day, and soon stand before him a man more than six feet high! Considerations such as these invested t.i.tmouse with intense and overpowering interest in the estimation of Tag-rag; _how_ could he make enough of him at Satin Lodge that day? If ever that hardened sinner felt inclined to utter an inward prayer, it was as he drove home that day--that Heaven would array his daughter in angel hues to the eyes of t.i.tmouse!

My friend t.i.ttlebat made his appearance at the gate of Satin Lodge, at about a quarter to four o'clock. Good gracious, how he had dressed himself out! So as very considerably to exceed his appearance when first presented to the reader.

Miss Tag-rag had been before her gla.s.s ever since the instant of her return from chapel, up to within ten minutes' time of t.i.tmouse's arrival. An hour and a half at least had she bestowed on her hair, disposing it in little corkscrew and somewhat scanty curls, which quite glistened in bear's grease, hanging on each side of a pair of lean and sallow cheeks. The color which ought to have distributed itself over her cheeks, in roseate delicacy, had, two or three years before, thought fit to collect itself into the tip of her sharp little nose. Her small gray eyes beamed with the gentle and attractive expression perceptible in her father's; and her projecting under lip reminded everybody of that delicate feature in her mother. She was very short, and her figure rather skinny and angular. She wore her lilac-colored frock; her waist being pinched in to a degree which made you think of a fit of the colic when you looked at her--and gave you a dim vision of a coroner's inquest on a case of death by tight lacing! A long red sash, tied in a most elaborate bow, gave a very brilliant air to her dress generally. She had a thin gold chain round her neck, and wore long white gloves; her left hand holding her pocket-handkerchief, which she had so suffused with bergamot that it scented the whole room. Mrs. Tag-rag had made herself very splendid, in a red silk gown and staring head-dress; in fact, she seemed _on fire_. As for Mr. Tag-rag, whenever he was dressed in his Sunday clothes, he looked the model of a dissenting minister; witness his black coat, waistcoat and trousers, and primly tied white neckerchief, with no shirt-collar visible. For some quarter of an hour had this interesting trio been standing at their parlor window, in anxious expectation of t.i.tmouse's arrival; their only amus.e.m.e.nt being the numberless dusty stage-coaches driving every five minutes close past their gate, (which was about ten yards from their house,) at once enlivening and ruralizing the scene. Oh, that poor laburnum--laden with dust, drooping with drought, and evidently in the very last stage of a decline--that was planted beside the little gate! Tag-rag spoke of cutting it down; but Mrs. and Miss Tag-rag begged its life a little longer, because none of their neighbors had one!--and then _that_ subject dropped. How was it that though both the ladies had sat under a thundering discourse from Mr. Dismal Horror that morning--they had never once since thought or spoken of him or his sermon--never even opened his exhilarating "_Groans_"? The reason was plain. They thought of t.i.tmouse, who was bringing "airs from heaven;" while Horror brought only "blasts from----!" and _those_ they had every day in the week, (his sermons on the Sunday, his "_Groans_" on the weekday.) At length Miss Tag-rag's little heart fluttered violently, for her papa told her that t.i.tmouse was coming up the road--and so he was. Not dreaming that he could be seen, he stood beside the gate for a moment, under the melancholy laburnum; and, taking a dirty-looking silk handkerchief out of his hat, slapped it vigorously about his boots, (from which circ.u.mstance it may be inferred that he had walked,) and replaced it in his hat. Then he unb.u.t.toned his surtout, adjusted it nicely, and disposed his chain and eyegla.s.s just so as to let the tip only of the latter be seen peeping out of his waistcoat; twitched up his shirt-collar, plucked down his wristbands, drew the tip of a white pocket handkerchief out of the pocket in the breast of his surtout, pulled a white glove halfway on his left hand; and having thus given the finishing touches to his toilet, opened the gate, and--t.i.ttlebat t.i.tmouse, Esquire, the great guest of the day, for the first time in his life (swinging a little ebony cane about with careless grace) entered the domain of Mr. Tag-rag.

The little performance I have been describing, though every bit of it pa.s.sing under the eyes of Tag-rag, his wife, and his daughter, had not excited a smile; their anxious feelings were too deep to be reached or stirred by light emotions. Miss Tag-rag turned very pale and trembled.

"La, pa!" said she, faintly, "how could you say he'd got white eyebrows and whiskers? Why--they're a beautiful _black_!"

Tag-rag was speechless: the fact was so--for t.i.tmouse had fortunately succeeded in obtaining a little bottle of ink, which he had applied with great effect. As t.i.tmouse approached the house, (Tag-rag hurrying out to open the door for him,) he saw the two ladies standing at the windows.

Off went his hat, and out dropped the dusty silk handkerchief, not a little disconcerting him for the moment. Tag-rag, however, soon occupied his attention at the door with anxious civilities, shaking him by the hand, hanging up his hat and stick for him, and then introducing him to the sitting-room. The ladies received him with the most profound courtesies, which t.i.tmouse returned with a quick embarra.s.sed bow, and an indistinct--"Hope you're well, mem?"

If they had had presence of mind enough to observe it, the purple color of t.i.tmouse's hair must have surprised them not a little; all _they_ could see standing before them, however, was--the angelic owner of ten thousand a-year.

The only person tolerably at his ease, and he _only_ tolerably, was Mr.

Tag-rag; and he asked his guest----

"Wash your hands, t.i.tmouse, before dinner?" But t.i.tmouse said he had washed them before he had come out. [The day was hot, and he had walked five miles at a slapping pace.] In a few minutes, however, he felt a little more a.s.sured; it being impossible for him not to perceive the awful deference with which he was treated.

"Seen the _Sunday Flash_, mem?" he presently inquired, very modestly, addressing Mrs. Tag-rag.

"I--I--that is--not _to-day_," she replied, coloring.

"Vastly amusing, isn't it?" interposed Tag-rag, to prevent mischief--for he knew his wife would as soon have taken a c.o.c.katrice into her hand.

"Ye--e--s," replied t.i.tmouse, who had not even glanced at the copy which Snap had brought him. "An uncommon good fight between Birmingham Big"----

Tag-rag saw his wife getting redder and redder. "No news stirring about things in general, is there?" said he, with a desperate attempt at a diversion.

"Not that I have heard," replied t.i.tmouse. Soon he got a little farther, and said how cheerful the stages going past must make the house. Tag-rag agreed with him. Then there was a little pause. None of the party knew exactly which way to look, nor in what posture to sit. Faint "hems" were occasionally heard. In short, no one felt _at home_.

"Been to church, mem, this morning, mem?" timidly inquired t.i.tmouse of Miss Tag-rag--the first time of his daring to address her.

"Yes, sir," she replied, faintly coloring, casting her eyes to the ground, and suddenly putting her hand into that of her mother--with _such_ an innocent, engaging simplicity--like a timid fawn lying as close as possible to its dam![13]

"We always go to _chapel_, sir," said Mrs. Tag-rag, confidently, in spite of a deadly look from her husband; "the _gospel_ a'n't preached in the Church of England! We sit under Mr. Horror--a heavenly preacher!

You've heard of Mr. Horror?"

"Yes, mem! Oh, yes! Capital preacher!" replied t.i.tmouse, who of course (being a true churchman) had never in his life heard of Mr. Horror, or any other dissenter.

"When _will_ dinner be ready, Mrs. T.?" inquired Tag-rag, abruptly, and with a very perceptible dash of sternness in his tone; but dinner was announced the very next moment. He took his wife's arm, and in doing so, gave it a sudden vehement pressure, which, coupled with a furious glance, explained to her the extent to which she had incurred his anger!

t.i.tmouse's offered arm the timid Miss Tag-rag scarcely touched with the tip of her finger, as she walked beside him to dinner. He soon got tolerably composed and cheerful at dinner, (which, contrary to their usual custom--which was to have a cheerless _cold_ dinner on the Sabbath--consisted of a little piece of nice roast beef, with plenty of horse-radish, Yorkshire pudding, a boiled fowl, a plum-pudding made by Mrs. Tag-rag, and custards which had been superintended by Miss Tag-rag herself,) and, to oblige his hospitable host and hostess, ate till he was near bursting. Miss Tag-rag, though really very hungry, could be prevailed upon to take only a very small slice of beef and a quarter of a custard, and drank a third of a gla.s.s of quasi sherry (_i. e._ Cape wine) after dinner. She never once spoke, except in hurried answers, to her papa and mamma; and sitting exactly opposite t.i.tmouse, (with a big plate of greens and a boiled fowl between them,) was continually coloring whenever their eyes happened to encounter one another, on which occasions, hers would suddenly drop, as if overpowered by the brilliance of his. t.i.tmouse began to love her very fast. After the ladies had withdrawn, you should have heard the way in which Tag-rag went on with t.i.tmouse!--I can liken the two to nothing but an old fat spider and a little fly.

"Will you come into my parlor?

Said the spider to the fly;"

--in the old song: and it might have been well for t.i.tmouse to have answered, in the language of the aforesaid fly:--