Broad Grins Part 8

He waited full two minutes; no one came; He waited full two minutes more; and then,-- Says Toby, "if he's deaf, I'm not to blame; I'll pull it for the gentleman again."

But the first peal woke Isaac in a fright, Who, quick as lightning, popping up his head, Sat on his head's _Antipodes_, in bed,-- Pale as a parsnip,--bolt upright.

At length he, wisely, to himself did say,-- Calming his fears,-- "Tus.h.!.+--'tis some fool has rung, and run away;"-- When peal the second rattle'd in his ears!

Shove jump'd into the middle of the floor; And, trembling at each breath of air that stirr'd, He grope'd down stairs, and open'd the street door, While Toby was performing peal the third.

Isaac eye'd Toby, fearfully askant,-- And saw he was a strapper,--stout, and tall; Then, put this question;--"Pray, Sir, what d'ye want?"

Says Toby,--"I want nothing, Sir, at all."

"Want nothing!--Sir, you've pull'd my bell, I vow, As if you'd jerk it off the wire!"

Quoth Toby,--gravely making him a bow,-- "I pull'd it, Sir, at your desire."

"At mine!"--"Yes, yours--I hope I've done it well; High time for bed, Sir; I was hast'ning to it; But if you write up _Please to ring the bell_, Common politeness makes me stop, and do it."

Isaac, now, waxing wroth apace, Slamm'd the street door in Toby's face, With all his might; And Toby, as he shut it, swore He was a dirty son of--something more Than delicacy suffers me to write: And, lifting up the knocker, gave a knock, So long, and loud, it might have raise'd the dead; Twizzle declares his house sustain'd a shock, Enough to shake his lodgers out of bed.

Toby, his rage thus vented in the rap, Went serpentining home, to take his nap.

'Tis, now, high time to let you know That the obstetrick Doctor Crow Awoke in the beginning of this matter, By Toby's _tintinnabulary_ clatter:

And, knowing that the bell belong'd to Shove, He listen'd in his bed, but did not move;

He only did apostrophize;-- Sending to h.e.l.l Shove, and his bell, That wouldn't let him close his eyes.

But when he heard a thundering _knock_,--says he, "That's, certainly, a messenger for _me_;-- Somebody ill, in the Brick House, no doubt;"-- Then mutter'd, hurrying on his dressing-gown, "I wish my Ladies, out of town, Chose more convenient times for crying out!"

Crow, in the dark, now, reached the stair-case head; Shove, in the dark, was coming up to bed.

A combination of ideas flocking, Upon the pericranium of Crow,-- Occasion'd by the hasty knocking, Succeeded by a foot he heard below,--

He did, as many folks are apt to do, Who argue in the dark, and in confusion;-- That is, from the Hypothesis, he drew A false conclusion:

Concluding Shove to be the person sent, With an express, from the brick tenement; Whom Barber Twizzle, torturer of hairs, Had, civilly, let in, and sent up stairs.

As Shove came up, tho' he had, long time, kept His character, for patience, very laudably, He couldn't help, at every step he stepp'd, Grunting, and grumbling, in his gizzard, audibly.

For Isaac's mental feelings, you must know, Not only were considerably hurt, But his corporeal, also-- Having no other clothing than a s.h.i.+rt;-- A dress, beyond all doubt, most light and airy, It being, then, a frost in January.

When Shove was deep down stairs, the Doctor heard, (Being much nearer the stair top,) Just here and there, a random word, Of the Soliloquies that Shove let drop;--

But, shortly, by progression, brought To contact nearer, The Doctor, consequently, heard him clearer,-- And then the f.a.g-end of this sentence caught:

Which Shove repeated warmly, tho' he s.h.i.+ver'd:-- "d.a.m.n Twizzle's house! and d.a.m.n the Bell!

And d.a.m.n the fool who rang it!--Well, From all such plagues I'll quickly be deliver'd."

"What?--quickly be deliver'd!" echoes Crow;-- "Who is it?--Come, be sharp;--reply, reply; Who wants to be deliver'd? let me know."

Recovering his surprise, Shove answer'd, "I."

"_You_ be _deliver'd!_" says the Doctor,--"'Sblood!"

Hearing a man's gruff voice--"You lout! you lob!

You be deliver'd!--Come, that's very good!"

Says Shove, "I will, so help me Bob!"

"Fellow," cried Crow, "you're drunk with filthy beer!

A drunkard, fellow, is a brute's next neighbour;-- But Miss Cloghorty's time was very near, And, I suppose, Lucretia's now in labour."

"Zounds!" bellows Shove, with rage and wonder wild, "Why then, my _maiden_ Aunt is _big with child_!"

Here was, at once, a sad discovery made!

Lucretia's frolick, now, was past a joke;-- Shove tremble'd for his Fortune, Crow, his Trade, Both, both saw ruin,--by one fatal stroke;

But, with his Aunt, when Isaac did discuss, She hush'd the matter up, by speaking thus:

"Sweet Isaac!" said Lucretia, "spare my Fame!-- Tho', for my babe, I feel as should a mother, Your Fortune will continue much the same; For,--keep the Secret,--you're his _Elder Brother_."

[Ill.u.s.tration]

FOOTNOTES

[1] _N.B._ Half our modern Legends are either borrow'd or translated from the German.

[2] This is the conclusion of all that was originally printed under the t.i.tle of "_My Night-gown and Slippers_."

[3] Roses were not emblems of faction, cries the Critick, till the reign of Henry the Sixth.--Pooh!--This is a figure, not an anachronism.

Suppose, Mr. Critick, you and all your descendants should be hang'd, although your father died in his bed:--Why then posterity, when talking of your father, may allude to the _family gallows_, which his issue shall have render'd notoriously _symbolical of his House_.

[4] --"_Quis talia fando Temperet a lachrymis?_"

says aeneas, by way of proem; yet, for a Hero, tolerably "use'd to the melting mood," he talks, on this occasion, much more than he cries; and, though he begins with a wooden Horse, and gives a general account of the burning of Troy, still the "_quorum pars magna fui_" is, evidently, the great inducement to his chattering:--accordingly, he keeps up Queen Dido to a scandalous late hour, after supper, for the good folks of Carthage, to tell her an egotistical story, that occupies two whole books of the aeneid.--Oh, these Heroes!--I once knew a worthy General--but I wont tell that story.

[5] Far be it from me to offer a pedantick affront to the Gentlemen who peruse me, by explaining the word _Incubus_; which Pliny and others, more learnedly, call _Ephialtes_.--I, modestly, state it to mean the _Night-Mare_, for the information of the Ladies. The chief symptom by which this affliction is vulgarly known, is a heavy pressure upon the stomach, when lying in a supine posture in bed. It would terrify some of my fair readers, who never experience'd this characteristick of the _Incubus_, were I to dwell on its effects; and it would irritate others, who are in the habit of labouring under its sensations.

[6] An old Gentlewoman, a great admirer of the BLACK LETTER, (as many _old Gentlewomen_ are) presented the Author of these Tales with the _Original MS._ of this Sonnet; advising the publication of a _facsimile_ of the Knight's hand-writing. It is painful, after this, to advance, that the Sonnet, so far from being genuine, is _one_ of the clumsiest literary forgeries, that the present times have witnessed. It appears, in this authentick Story, that Sir Thomas Erpingham was married in the reign of Henry the Fifth; and it is evidently intended, that _Moderns_ should believe he writ these love-verses almost immediately after his marriage; not only from the ardour with which he celebrates the beauty of his wife, but from the circ.u.mstance of a man writing any love-verses upon his wife at all;--but the style and language of the lines are most glaringly inconsistent with their pretended date. The fact is, we have here foisted upon us a close _imitation of_ COWLEY, (_vide the_ MISTRESS) who was not _born_ till the year 1618,--two centuries after the era in question. Chaucer died, A. D. 1400; and Henry the Fifth (who was king only 9 years, 5 months, and 11 days) began his reign scarcely 13 years after the death of that Poet. Sir Thomas, then, must, at least, have written in the obsolete phraseology of Chaucer,--and, probably, would have imitated him,--as did Lidgate, Occleve, and others;--nay, Harding, Skelton, &c. who were fifty or sixty years subsequent to Chaucer, were not so modern in their language as their celebrated predecessor. Having, _in few words_, prove'd (it is presume'd) this Sonnet to be spurious, an apology may be thought necessary for not saying _a great deal more_;--but this Herculean task is left, in deference, to the disputants on _Vortigern_; who will, doubtless, engage in it, as a matter of great importance, and, once more, lay the world under _very heavy_ obligations, with various _Pamphlets in folio_, upon the subject:--and, surely, too many acknowledgments cannot be given to men who are so indefatigably generous in their researches, that half the result of them, when publish'd, causes even the sympathetick reader to labour as much as the Writer!

How ungratefully did Pope say!

"There, dim in clouds, the poring Scholiasts mark, Wits, who, like owls, see only in the dark; A lumber-house of books in every head; For ever reading, never to be read!"--_Dunciad_.

[7] If the Knight knew the aptness, in its full extent, of his oath, upon this occasion, we must give him more credit for his reading than we are willing to allow to military men of the age in which he flourish'd;--for, observe: he vows to _cudgel_ a man lurking to _rob_ his Lady of her virtue, in a _bower_;--how appropriately, therefore, does he swear by the _G.o.d of the Gardens_! who is represented with a kind of _cudgel_ (_falx lignea_) in his right hand; and is, moreover, furnished with another weapon of formidable dimensions, (Horace calls it _Palus_) for the express purpose of annoying _Robbers_.

"_Fures dextra coercet, Obscaenoque ruber porrectus ab inguine_ PALUS."

It must be confess'd that the last mention'd attribute of this Deity was stretch'd forth to promote pleasure in some instances, instead of fear;--for it was a sportive custom, in the hilarity of recent marriages, to seat the Bride upon his _Palus_;--but this circ.u.mstance by no means disproves its efficacy as a dread to Robbers; on the contrary, that implement must have been peculiarly terrifick, which could sustain the weight of so many Brides, without detriment to its firmness, or elasticity.