Chapter 6

This brings us to the supper-table, and the Christmas tree, with its blossoms of light--a very peculiar species of shrub:--we have heard of box-trees, plane-trees, lady's slippers, and sun-flowers, but never remember to have seen or heard of a toy and candle-tree, figured in any work on botany; nor should we have thought our little friends had ever beheld one before, for the brilliant supper seemed but small attraction compared with the illuminated fir--all eyes appeared attracted to the quarter in which it stood; and when the youthful company were introduced to it, after the banquet, we felt glad the lower boughs were out of the reach of the younger branches, or they might, in their eagerness, have pulled it out of the disguised tub. As it was, some of the recipients took the fruit intended for others:--for instance, Stephen Sharp ate all Miss Standby's basket of sweets, and then demanded the story-book that had his name attached to it. All the fruit was not edible, for we saw an apple that tasted very much of the wood, being full of pips resembling doll's tea-things; whilst, upon suction, the pears emitted musical sounds; and a biffin, like a pincushion, had the flavour of bran--probably it was bran-new.

The tree, now stript, is quite devoid of interest; for, upon Mr. Lark's starting some fun in the corner, none lingered by, not even to listen to the bird-organ, that appeared to play under the table. Yes! there was Lark, at it again--doing anything to please!--Generous Lark!--his face covered with a white handkerchief, a portion tucked in his mouth, over all wearing a pair of spectacles, with pupils (currants abstracted from a mince-pie) stuck thereon, causing the Lark to look very curious and odd--the children wondering what he will be at next!--for now, you must know, he has gone to prepare another excitement; being in the drawing-room, whilst the visitors are in the parlour--curious beyond all description, beseeching the junior Mr. Brown, who is standing with his back against the door, to prevent egress, just to permit them to depart; which, after a slight contest, he does--they rushing, pell-mell, to the drawing-room, there to find an old birch-broom blazing in the grate, and the recess covered with two sheets suspended by forks. In front of the sheets is a table; whilst in front of that table, stand the wondering little crowd, speculating as to what the burning broom can have to do with it, when a dwarf old dame appears, through a slit in the drapery--as perfect a dwarf as ever breathed,--but three feet high, and so really true that no one for a moment doubts her identity or vitality. "She is a Witch!" cry all, that has come down the chimney. The dame bows acquiescence, with numberless courtseys, telling the little company of her immense age and adventures--recounting her history:--about the large family she kept in the shoe; about the refractory pig, that would not get over the stile; and her wonderful travels, to sweep cobwebs from the sky; so, after having danced a hornpipe; deplored the loss of her carriage (_broom_); demanded the grunting pig, behind the curtain, to be quiet; and scraped an infinity of courtseys, she vanishes:--the sharpest boy in the room, Master Bold, rushing down stairs to catch a glimpse of her, but only seeing us, in our shirt sleeves, wonders the more!--_par parenthèse_--we were one of the performers, escaping, to make room for the Galanti show. So, whilst we leave the company to be amused thereby, we will, with the kind permission of Mr. Lark, instruct you how to construct an old dame; and afterwards tell the effect it had upon our audience:--

Firstly, procure a pair of small shoes and stockings--these place upon your hands (which are to represent feet); next, tie round your neck a short coloured pinafore, reaching down to your hands (or rather the old dame's feet)--this will represent a gown; now, place your shoed hands upon a table, to see effect; gird the gown with a proportionate apron, the strings of which will bind your arms and body together at the chest; put on a false nose, a pair of spectacles, a lady's frilled night-cap, and a comical conical hat; add a little red cloak, and draw the table up to a window or recess, the curtains of which pin at the back of your shoulders; and standing thus, with your hands (the old dame's feet) upon the table, you will represent the most perfect little dwarf (without arms) you can imagine; the hands are to be supplied by an accomplice, behind the curtain, who is to suit the action of those hands to the pleasantries you may invent. Thus, having given the necessary instructions, we leave the rest to be supplied by the actor; who may, if he pleases, render the old dame a medium of much merry conceit and pleasant mirth. Well do we remember the impression made at this party; for, as before stated, we performed the arms from behind the curtain, through which we occasionally peeped, getting a good view over the shoulders of Mr. Lark (the old dame), witnessing the astonished gaping gaze of the servant, who happened to enter the apartment at the moment, and stood transfixed to the spot, until the effigy had escaped. One little boy was so impressed with the illusion, that he actually went below, with some venturesome companions, in search of her; but soon returned, rushing up stairs in a state of extreme terror, declaring to us (as he kept his eyes towards the door, fearing every moment she would appear), that he had seen the old dame, and heard her pig; the truth being, one of the party had grunted in a dark corner of the lobby, and frightened the youth, who eventually became a prey to intense mental anxiety--a trembling fear we attempted to dispel, without success, until we bore the little fellow below, he clinging tightly to us. In the lobby Mr. Lark showed the scared youth our trick, piece-meal--in the end, pacifying the young gentleman, though much do we think the old dame and her pig will never be forgotten by him:--he may grow to manhood, have children, loves and cares innumerable, traverse the seas, know war and famine, yet do we think the old dame will stand boldly out, like a giant image in the desert of the past--far more so than the Galanti show, exhibited afterwards, because really alive, and capable of reason!--Though, _we_ had more reason to remember the show; for, the men who performed it hung their hats and coats beside Mr. Lark's, and our own; which, upon leaving, they did not identify:--though, we think they ought; as ours were considerably newer--one of their hats being a cap, and the other of dirty white felt!

After the departure of the show, we got up some sport with the sheets upon which it had been performed, exhibiting our eyes through a hole, therein; those on the obverse trying to guess the proprietor of others on the reverse--all the owners of bright eyes much enjoying the sport. But to recount the many pranks played by youthful blood that evening, would require a volume--everybody proposing everything; and everybody else, disliking the thing proposed, suggests some other:--one wanting Hunt the Whistle; a second, to act Charades; and a third, some practical joke of the old school, such as the game we played with Mr. Lark, called Porcelain Mesmerism, deceiving the little innocents into a belief that men are simple--much more so than they will find them, upon arriving at maturity!--There we sat (two full-grown fools) staring at each other, with plates of water in our hands, the bottom of one sooty, the other clean!--There we sat, face to face, alternately rubbing the bottoms of the plates, and stroking our physiognomies, in mockery of each other--Mr. Lark getting his face blacked like a sweep,--the youngsters laughing at his silliness!--Oh, that a little smut should produce such ecstatic mirth!

There is Walter Merry, looking like an eel in convulsions--imagining he has been here about an hour:--you should have seen the expression of the little fellow, when Mrs. Brown gently tapped him on the shoulder, saying, "Master Merry, you're fetched!" Time was annihilated, and memory dumbfounded!--The entertainment that had been looked forward to for days, counted by the hours, and put so many mammas in a pother, is gone!--The hands of the hall-clock are almost perpendicular--it wants but half-an-hour of midnight!--Several anxious mammas have sent several times for their several little ones; and the several servants have been sent away with several evasive answers--for "the little dears are enjoying themselves so much!"--"Mrs. Brown's compliments to Mrs. Fidgets, and would she permit the little Fidgets to stay just ten minutes longer?" No!--the Fidgety footman is only to depart _with_ them; so he is sent to the servants' hall, there to wait, whilst snap-dragon is being prepared in the library--that the evening may end with a grand blue-fire _tableaux_. The room resembles the Black Hole of Calcutta!--Hundreds of little itching fingers are longing to be amongst that pound of raisins, in spirits--all eager, as imps, for the fiendish sport; the darkness and suspense rendering it very exciting--causing Master Jewel (a model boy), who is "wanted directly," to make no answer from the sable mass; until, the summons being repeated, he says something that sounds very like "shan't come!"--and, Master Jewel does not come, until he has had his portion of the fiery food that is flying about in every direction.

During the last hour Cook and John have held a _soirée_ below, to all the neighbouring domestics, who are awaiting to escort home their little masters and mistresses--they are regaling upon ale and sandwiches, in the servants' hall; whilst that most interesting topic, "every body's business," is being discussed:--Mrs. Pest's maid assuring all, upon her sacred word and honour, that Mrs. Pest is not a angel, or the "Pest-house" a paradise, though it may look pretty over the garden-wall; and, moreover, Mrs. P.'s maid said she were of opinion the public knowed it, too; for t'other night some one painted out the fust letters, ag'in our door-post--making the direction, at the corner of the lane, "Placid Vale," read "_acid ale_" instead,--no compliment, as the maid said, to Mr. "Pest, Pewter, and Co.'s Entire;"--at the same time observing, that it sarved 'em right! And, "as I hope, afore next Heaster, to lose my blessed Virgin Mary name, I'd go--if it wer'n't for the pale-ale-tory circumstances, I'd warn Missus! It was only yesterday, jist arter Mr. Pest had gone to Brewhus, in Liquorish St., that we had a scrimmage about flounces; and jist as I was a-going to fling my resignation at her--'tending to go out every evenin', till the month was up, in a gound zactly like Missus' own (lilock, with seven flounces)--well, jist when I was on the pint o' naming the word, I think'd o' little Ned Pest; and, as I loved the dear little fellow more than a paltry frock, I con'scended to stay!" Here the gardening-groom at the "Snuggery," opposite, grinned and winked horribly, observing something about little Ned's being a "surfeit of finery"--finery that had to be shown and aired,--airing begetting the society of aubun viskers and hofficer X, 50!--_officers_, making Mr. "Snuggery" chuckle amazingly, and grin more--observing hofficers to be all the "kick" now!--At the same time, jerking his thumb in the direction of the party-wall and the Albert, saying, he knew the Captain,--met _Boultoff_ at Bath, where he stayed last season, until the waters were too hot, when he "dried up" (we suppose by drying up, the "Snuggery" meant departed). No one appeared to notice the different name applied to the Captain--or, if they did, said nothing,--except Cook, who observed--her master and the Capting to be as thick as soup!--That she thought the former green and soft, as over-done spinach, for the Capting cut it very fat at master's 'spense;--the guvenor ought to save his bacon afore he be done to rags;--if missus ud come in for all the grizzle, she (cook) said she would not stew and fry herself about it.

Poor John, now fully assured of the Captain's intention, is very uncomfortable, indeed; experiencing the combined sensations of goose-skin, fever, pins-and-needles, live-blood, and intoxication--sensations that might have been relieved could they have vanished at the extremities of his hair; but, unfortunately, that would not stand erect, so plastered and powdered had it been since the Captain's arrival. John ruminates upon what has been said, intending to mention the "unmentionables," and break the awful mystery to Mr. Brown, that very night. Now, you must know, Mr. Brown and his friend, the Captain, condescended to grace the juvenile party:--they sat at an occasional table, in the recess, drinking wine, as if for a wager--trying to dispose of all the surplus decanted yesterday; so, you may suppose, when John appeared with a melancholy face, to impart melancholy news, Mr. Brown was too far gone to comprehend it--that night he could not stand, much more understand; though, somehow, under the inspiration of a draught of water and a damp towel, the Diary was made up, as if by instinct:--

"January 5th, _Saturday_.--Christmas is dead!--Expired with the Juvenile party--we have economically disposed of the scraps. 'A Merry Christmas!'--All the _ill luck_ came upon Fridays--we can have no more this season--altogether, a jolly Christmas, with a jolly friend, who is to prove himself a _capital_ one to-morrow--owes me £350--bill due Monday,--says he will _clear off all by then!_ If 'money' is said to be a 'friend,' what must a _friend_ with _money_ be?--A golden treasure, doubly dear--a companion that can never be a drag, because too well off."

Thus closes the Christmas portion of the Brown Diary:--its author, as customary on Saturday, dyeing his hair, before retiring to rest. But, somehow, that eventful evening, Brown could not repose in peace; he abused his best friends in sleep--dreaming the De Camps capable of decamping, after the bridal breakfast, with the dowry, across the sea--leaving Jemima and Angelina married vestals,--to make more money and fresh conquests in _Virginia_ or _Marryland_:--whither old Brown feels bound to follow, in his night shirt, but is incapacitated, being tied to the earth by a pigtail springing from the organs of amativeness, philoprogenitiveness, inhabitiveness, and adhesiveness! So exciting is Brown's dream, that he fancies the De Camps escaping--now, the banging door of the Albert fairly awakening the sleeper; who, on attempting to rise, finds the pillow really a fixture to the back of his head; which he tears away, in a rage, causing all the pleasing sensations that might be experienced on the removal of a tail by the roots. Brown rushes wildly to the window, opening the casement; and, upon looking into the pitch-dark night, he receives a blow from without, that causes him to stagger and reel backwards, falling to the floor, with a noise that makes Mrs. Brown rise in a fright, obtain a light, and severely reprimand her lord as a drunken fool--capable of any wild fancy!

The naked truth stands thus:--Poor Brown has mistaken a bottle of gum for hair-dye, and a closet for the casement--bruising his forehead against the shelf; so, he creeps back to bed--there to lie, moralizing upon cause and effect!--Thinking, how trifling things, in themselves, may lead to disastrous consequences--reflecting upon the rival bottles:--one black--all deceit, the other white and trusty! "Be not precipitate, nor trust to appearances only, lest you be deceived!"--a maxim, Brown fears, he cannot apply to the Captain; for, never did he know less of a man, of whom he ought to have known more.

The 5th of January seemed to Brown as if it would never dawn!--The bump that took away and restored his senses, or, rather, sobered that gentleman, feels like an egg placed in the centre of his forehead--he longs for daylight, to examine it:--daylight, that comes, and reduces the egg to a walnut-shell!--Poor Brown's hat will not go on, for the excrescence, so he cannot go to church. At breakfast he recounts his dream--which is voted fudge by Mamma, stuff by Angelina, and rubbish by Jemima; for they are in no very good humour after the excitement of last week. Little Tom is in bed, having broken his fast upon jalap, administered to counteract the baneful effects of the sweets consumed yesterday--the youth being full as a sack of sand; and, we think, could an anatomist have given a section of the different strata of food that body contained, in the spirit of a geologist, he would have presented a remarkable series of deposits. But, away with scientific speculations, to the Browns, who are at breakfast--a meal that has been intruded upon by John; who has recounted enough of a certain story to put Jemima in hysterics, and Angelina in a fainting fit--bringing down a hurricane of abuse upon him--John, the impertinent menial--John, the venomous viper, that has recoiled upon its benefactor--John, the dark villain, that has plotted with the unworthy man, Spohf, who, of course, out of mere envy, mere spite, mere jealousy, would try to overturn that harmony that is not to be broken so easily--that unity that is not to be severed, no, not for a hundred Spohfs! "Go--go, sir, to your fiddling garret-friend--go and blow his hurdigurdy!--Go, sir!--Tell him the affections of innocent females are not to be played upon like a _base vile_!--Tell him there are ears to pull, horsewhips to be had, ay, and noble gentlemen ever ready to lay on in defence of those scandalously reviled! You may tremble, sir, for menials can be discharged, and have characters to lose! Sir, I give you warning!--Sir, you may go!--Go, sir!"

Now, this is the very thing John much wished to do:--he had been imperceptibly backing, for the last five minutes, towards the door, fearing to turn tail upon the enemy--the choleric Mr. and Mrs. Brown; who appeared, in their very fierceness, to counteract each other's fire--each pulling the other back, seeming to get more and more ferocious the nearer their victim gained the door,--for, when the baited John reached it, he turned the handle of the lock behind him, still facing his antagonists, intending to escape by a side lurch; but, just at that critical point, there came a knock of great importance at the outer door, as if the chimney were on fire, or a baby half out of window:--the enemy fell back--John opened the door, and, lo!--There discovered an officer of the Police Force, who wanted a word with John Brown!--John, feeling himself the Brown wanted, retreats into the kitchen, where he faints away, in a plate-basket, and stops the Dutch clock.

* * * * * *

The Police Officer has had his word, or rather, word of words, with Mr. Brown:--news, said to be important, but of the wildest and most improbable character--news, appearing to that gentleman beyond all belief--news, that he will not, can not, put faith in!--Allegations, so preposterous, that they may be disproved in a moment--"Captain de Camp, _alias_ Boultoff, &c., &c., and three other persons, names unknown, now incarcerated in Dover Jail, for the robbery of John Brown, of Mizzlington"--a mistake--a foul plot--a base fiction!--At least, so thought the worthy gentleman, who was as ignorant of any wrong done him as the lunatic that resides in the moon. Had the sea-serpent been discovered in the back pond, a gold-mine been found in the dust-bin, or a Sphinx and Centaur been captured in Lincoln's Inn Fields, Mr. Brown could not have been more astounded!--He knows it to be an imputation that can be disproved in a twinkling, if Mr. Police Inspector will just step next door with him; but, alas!--There the fox's tail is left in the trap--the skirt of the very coat, borrowed of Mr. Brown, a fortnight since, hangs in the door,--the very door that slammed, when the affrighted gentleman awoke in a dream, last night.

* * * * * *

The concluding facts of these eventful sixteen days are simply as follows:--to Mr. Spohf is the issue due--he was bound to spend the sabbath at Canterbury, with the cathedral and organ; upon the journey thither, he happened to recognise some fellow-travellers, better known to him than he was to them. From a slight conversation that transpired, he learned their destination to be Boulogne, or rather, Dover; so he stopped at Ashford, telegraphing their persons to Dover, where, upon arrival, they were provided with lodging free of expense; from that place news was instantly sent to Mizzlington. Little did Mr. Brown think, that morning, as he combed out his matted, gummy, locks, that his friend Captain de Camp had lost _his_, under the cruel shears, in Dover Jail!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Captain de Camp, as you may suppose, after these lucky _stars_, again entered upon foreign service; being ordered to New South Wales, for fourteen years--he sailed in the same transport with his two sons. Lady Lucretia stayed at home, leading a very retired life--she resided in a vast mansion at the "West-end," a castle at Millbank.

Mr. Spohf, of course, taking advantage of his rival's absence, wins upon Miss Jemima Brown--in the end, marrying her, to live happy ever afterwards?--No, such was not the case! Mr. Spohf espoused Miss Cecilia Lark, who blessed him with a large family and everything else that woman can. Spohf's means have increased, annually, with his family:--all are musical, and the eldest girl is to be an "English Lark," that will surpass the "Swedish Nightingale," or any other foreign bird--the continentalists attribute it to the southern origin of her papa; and, accordingly, claim Cecilia Spohf as their own.

The Misses Brown still remain open to offers, and are reported to be well _worth_ having. Mr. John Brown, Junr., is married to Miss Gay; a better _match_ there could not be--they both pull one way; but, unfortunately the wrong one--rumour says they are extravagant. Tom is at Westminster School; he has not distinguished himself in any particular study, unless it be boating:--they say he would have won in the last race had he not broken his scull--a mishap that sadly terrified Mrs. Brown; for the note, intimating the catastrophe, said nothing about the _sculls_ being more wooden than her son's. Mr. and Mrs. Brown are really very happy!--Victoria and Albert are now united--the party-wall is removed. Mr. B. has retired from business, not even discounting bills:--he does not go to the city now; or at least if he does, it is behind Mr. Strap, who makes an important coachman, having filled out amazingly--may be, thinking, "he who drives fat cattle should himself be fat;" for the bays are too corpulent to kick, and take the journeys at their own pace. John--John Brown, "_private_," now keeps a public house--"the Brown Arms," "the Rampant Locomotive," "Noted Brown Stout House," at the corner of Brown Terrace:--it was a beer-shop when John first took it, but he has since obtained a _licence_, and married Mary, the house-maid.

Mr. Brown is notorious for keeping up the festive Christmas season!--He now makes it a rule to invite only those he loves or respects--not because they are well-to-do in this world, but because he likes or admires them;--seeming fully assured of Time's progress, and that--

CHRISTMAS COMES BUT ONCE A YEAR!

The End.