Chapter 3

At last people began to notice that young Gamecock 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. Gamecock 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 document. The whole village was astir: something must be going on, every one said; and within two days it was known that the document in question was a marriage-settlement, and that the wedding of Lady Rooke and young Mr. Gamecock 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. Gamecock--than they vowed it should never be. It appears that Mr. Gamecock had long been affianced to Miss Hennie Partlett, and the news of his desertion so preyed on her delicate constitution, 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. Gamecock as he was crossing the lawn in front of Rookwood Hall, and challenged him to mortal combat. Gamecock, in haste to visit his betrothed, passed on without heeding his adversary; but the valiant Redcomb flew at him, and with one stroke beat him to the earth. Gamecock rose, shook himself, and attacked Redcomb with such impetuosity, that at first he retreated; but, collecting his strength, he returned to the attack, and Gamecock 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 Gamecock'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 passed into another family of the Rookes, distantly related; and after two years dallying, Miss Hennie Partlett, forgetting former grievances, became Mrs. Gamecock, and Redcomb gave her away.

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 title-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 title-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.

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 noblemen 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 nobility, 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.

Porcupine generally had an old friend with him, whom he had long known in the country, who had come to see the town, and who lodged in the same house. His name was Dobbin.

When Porcupine had made some advancement in the portrait, Lord Forestking and his friend, Sir Hyde, came one day to inspect it, attended by the ever meddling Mr. Munkey. His Lordship seated himself in a chair opposite the picture, and expressed himself very much satisfied with the likeness, declaring, that he never before knew that he was so handsome a fellow.

"The portrait is--ah--very well, and the painting is--ah--admirable," said Sir Hyde; "but do not you think--ah--that the nose is a _leetle_ too long? and are you sure," addressing Porcupine, "that the left eye is not--ah--slightly awry?"

"I have not remarked it," returned Mr. Porcupine, meekly.

"The colouring is excellent; but--ah--'pon my honour, I never saw his Lordship wear a coat of that tint; and do not you think the hair is _rayther_ darker than his Lordship's?"

"Perhaps," suggested Mr. Porcupine, "you would see it better in another light;" and he immediately moved the easel.

"Do you know," said Mr. Munkey to Mr. Dobbin--they were at the other end of the room--"Sir Hyde Jungle is esteemed one of our finest critics in the arts? He has visited most of the great Continental galleries, and can tell you the dimensions of every celebrated picture, and the exact spot on which it is hung."

"How _can_ one individual be the possessor of so much learning!" said Dobbin. "I cannot even remember the dimensions of the common in my native village, though I have been round it often and often."

"Oh! Sir Hyde is, as you remark, a possessor of great learning. He studies anatomy too, and is very fond of dissecting all kinds of animals. I am told that no professor at St. Bartholomew's can do it more rapidly."

"What a wonderful individual!"

* * * * *

"Ah! now that I see it better," said the Baronet, "I think the hair as near right as it can be; but--ah--you have given his Lordship two--ah--curls on the left temple, which I do not think his Lordship ever has."

"Would your Lordship wish to have them taken out?" inquired Porcupine.

"'Pon honour, Sir Hyde," said his Lordship, "I really think the portrait is a very good one; and I like those two curls so much, that I'll make my barber give them to me to-morrow morning."

"I perfectly agree with your Lordship," replied the connoisseur; "and if Mr. Porcupine will but attend to the suggestions I have thrown out, this picture will make his fortune;" and the learned critic began to put on his gloves and seek his hat.

The Lord and the Baronet wished the artist good morning, and, with their attendant, departed.

Poor Porcupine threw himself into his chair, and gazed wistfully at the picture. His first thought was to thrust his foot through the canvass, but the word "suggestions" and "make his fortune" rang in his ears, and he burst into a long loud laugh.

"He is very learned, that Sir Hyde Jungle," observed his friend, Mr. Dobbin, at the conclusion of the laugh.

"A very learned man," said Porcupine.

"And did he not promise to make your fortune?"

"He did," replied the artist; "and if he can he may."

The next time Sir Hyde saw the portrait, he thought the nose and the eyes were quite right--the tone of colour on the coat admirable--and the hair marvellously exact. The day after, Lady Jungle and several friends came to see the picture, and one gave Mr. Porcupine a commission for a portrait of her darling Wilhelmina. A rush of orders followed, and the great Sir Hyde Jungle did what the artist never believed, he kept his promise, and, by his wonderful talk, made Mr. Porcupine's fortune.

THE STUFFED ANIMALS IN THE EXHIBITION.

A STORY. BY POLICEMAN X X.

ONE night as I was a-going my rounds, seeing that all things were right, I felt so tired and drowsy that I could hardly keep awake; so, when I came to the Stuffed Animals, I lay down on the bench there to rest myself. I have heard of many marvellous things, but nothing that ever I knew of equals the story I am going to tell you.

I had not been lying on the bench five minutes--not more than ten minutes certainly--when I heard a confused noise as if a crowd of visitors had been let into the building. You may be sure I was astonished, but fancying there might be something in the wind, I kept still and breathed very softly. Presently a large party came into the passage where the Stuffed Animals were, and you may imagine how I did stare--sure enough they were a lot of the beasts from the Zoological Gardens. But the most curious thing was, that many of them were dressed just like Christians. First came the big Elephant, putting me in mind, for all the world, of Mr. Trunk, the great City merchant; then the Hippopotamus, with a fez cap on exactly like the Abyssinian prince, Ippo, that was in the Exhibition a few days before; then a Kangaroo, with a smart bonnet and shawl, in the same style as Mrs. Jumper's; then a Wild Boar, looking like a country lout in a smock-frock; then a Beaver, no better dressed than one of our navvies, and who stamped on the Cat's toes, and made her squeak out so shrilly, that she made my ears tingle; then came a Parroquet, dressed like a dandy, and with him were two fashionable birds, Miss Cockatoo and Miss Snowy Owl; then followed an old Crocodile, looking like one of those withered Indian nurses, and in her arms she carried a young Frog that might have been an Indian baby. Besides these, there was a young Monkey, exactly like my brother's boy, Jack; a Mouse, dressed in the last-fashioned paletôt; and a little thing that for a long time I could make nothing of, but I fancy they call her a Duck-billed Platypus.

To have heard the remarks these animals made on their stuffed fellow-creatures would have made me die of laughter, but that I felt rather frightened and uncomfortable at my position so near them. The young Indian clapped his hands when he saw the two Frogs a-shaving, and the Snowy Owl flew up to see if the Great Horned Owl above her was really stuffed or not. The Cat seemed very much inclined to jump at the young Partridges; and the Mouse, dapper as he was, shrank back with fear when he caught sight of the Martins and Weasels.

At length Dent's clock struck four. The noise seemed to frighten them away; for, when I jumped up, and rubbed my eyes, they were all gone, nor could I make out by which door they left.

When I reported all this to my inspector, the only rewards I got were, to be told I had been dreaming, and to have my night's allowance of porter stopped for a fortnight.

ALDERMAN GOBBLE'S AMBITION.

NOT many years since, Mr. Alderman Gobble was a famous member of the Corporation of the City of London. No one was more esteemed at the great Guildhall feasts than he was. No one, at Christmas time, was more constant at the Mansion-House dinners, where he was invariably placed at the head of the table, close by the Lord Mayor.

Mr. Gobble was born in Norfolk, at one of those fine old-fashioned farm-houses so frequently met with in that county, and was often heard to tell the tale of his first coming to London, on a bitterly cold day, when the whole country was covered with snow, on the top of the "Telegraph" coach. It was Christmas-Eve, in the year 1815, and the roof was crowded with such piles of turkeys, geese, hares, and pheasants, that he always said he had preserved an affection for them throughout his life.

Some few years after his arrival in London, Mr. Gobble became a member of the Worshipful Company of Poulterers, and shortly afterwards he was elected Common-councilman by a great majority of the voters, who, to show their approbation of his excellence, invited him to a handsome dinner at Poulterers' Hall. In due time, the Common-councilman became an Alderman; and it was at a grand ball given on the occasion, that he fell in love with Miss Owlet, the daughter of a magistrate very celebrated for his wisdom. The wedding was attended by all the great City people; and after this union Mr. Gobble had the satisfaction of becoming the most popular member of the Corporation, and was more frequently than ever seen at the Corporation dinners.

But the Alderman's ambition did not rest satisfied with municipal honours. He read the debates in the House of Commons, until he thought he could speak as well as most of them, and aspired to become a member of Parliament. In this laudable desire, he was greatly abetted by his beloved spouse, who was deeply impressed with the conviction that he would be one of the most eloquent members of the House.

It happened that, about this time, the borough of Woodside became vacant. Mr. Rabbetson, the member, while on a visit to Earl Falcon, the owner of half the village of Woodside, was accidentally killed by his Lordship while they were out together for a day's sport.

The Alderman no sooner heard of the accident than he flew home to his wife, and told her of the opportunity that had offered itself. By the next night's mail, Mr. and Mrs. Gobble travelled down to Woodside, and, on the following day, they hired a carriage and rode over to Lord Falcon's mansion. The servants at the gate said that his Lordship was too ill to see company; but, at the Alderman's pressing entreaty, their cards were taken, and soon afterwards they were ushered into the lofty apartments of Woodside Hall, and through the library into the Earl's private garden. There they found his Lordship walking up and down the terrace, evidently in a most unamiable state of mind. Mrs. Gobble drew back when she saw his fierce looks; and the Alderman, taking off his hat, seemed undecided whether it would not be advisable to beat a retreat before his Lordship ate them both up, for so he seemed inclined to do. At last Mr. Gobble told his errand, and solicited the favour of his Lordship's interest. If Earl Falcon was angry before, he was enraged to madness now; he screamed at his visitors, stamped his feet, and rushed at them, cane in hand, so impetuously, that the intruders flew away with all the haste they could, regained their carriage, and took a post-chaise back to London without delay.

Alderman Gobble returned to town sadder, but wiser; and was never afterwards heard to talk of the honour of being a member of Parliament.

As for the borough of Woodside, Lord Falcon gave to Mr. Weesel, the family lawyer, who, report said, was somehow the cause of the death of poor Mr. Rabbetson.

MRS. STRUTT'S SEMINARY.

THE bells of Farmfield's Church rang merrily when young Mr. Strutt married his neighbour's daughter, Miss Waddle. The school-children had a holiday, and the labourers at all the farms in the village dined off roast beef and plum-pudding. Young Mr. Strutt had passed the College of Surgeons, and set up in practice in London, in a new and fashionable neighbourhood at the West End; that is, he had hired two rooms in a respectable-looking house, and bargained to have his name on a great brass plate on the door. But neither his wedding nor his brass plate brought him any patients; and after a two years' trial, Mr. Strutt retired from the profession in disgust.

It luckily happened that Mrs. Strutt's papa, Mr. Waddle, determined that his daughter should receive a _superior_ education, had sent her to a very distinguished seminary, where young ladies were taught the most wonderful accomplishments by the very first masters; but where, unfortunately, they did not include the art of making apple-dumplings.

As Mrs. Strutt had no children of her own, she now determined to devote her acquirements to the benefit of the children of other people. So Mr. and Mrs. Strutt opened an "Academy for Young Ladies and Gentlemen" at Kentish Town; and, as good fortune would have it, they were soon intrusted with the care of half-a-dozen "boarders," who brought their own forks and spoons, and were the children of very genteel parents, at least so Mrs. Strutt told her visitors.

One thing must be said, that both master and mistress were very kind and attentive to their young charges; and if they did not teach them much, it was simply because they did not know how.

One fine summer's afternoon they all went together for a ramble in the Highgate Fields. The elder Master Hawke took his drum, and the younger had Mrs. Strutt's parasol; Miss Duckling's two brother's had a kite and a boat; and Charley Lighthair a whirligig. They flew the kite high up till they could hardly see it, and sent card-messengers of every colour up to it: they swam their boat in the pond; and when it sailed beyond their reach, Mr. Strutt pulled it back with his walking-cane: they ran races across the meadows, and tried to see who could get over the stiles first; and then when they were hot and tired, they all sat under the shade of the great elm-trees, and Mr. Strutt told them the following anecdote:--

"Many years ago, as I was passing through the country town where I lived, my attention was drawn to a great crowd of people assembled round some apparently very amusing objects. Led by curiosity, I mixed in with them; and what did I behold but a fellow whom I had long known, named Bruin, teaching a monkey to perform all kinds of tricks? The animal stood on his head, and, with his hind feet, threw sticks up into the air; then he leaped on Mr. Bruin's head, and balanced himself on one hand, and jumped over the heads of the spectators; among whom, I remember, were my neighbours, Mrs. Kangaroo and her daughter; my shoemaker, old Pidgeon, and his little girl; Shark the lawyer; Mrs. Whinchat the milliner; a fellow named Ratt, who had been twenty times taken up for thieving; and the poulterer's son, Bill Goose. I wish you had been with them to have seen how Bruin made Jocko the monkey dance, and how all these folks laughed. They capered about finely to get out of his way; but at last Jocko jumped from his master's head on to Mrs. Whinchat's back, tore off her bonnet, and in two seconds put it on the head of little Miss Kangaroo. Oh, how the crowd shouted! Bruin tried to beat the animal, but he laughed too much to be able to catch him; and Jocko, pleased at his own performance, jumped on to Ratt's back, and the rascal ran half way down the street before the monkey would dismount. Bruin ran after them, and so great was the crowd that pursued, that he was glad to hide both himself and Jocko in an inn-yard."

The young ones all laughed famously at this story; and then, as it was near tea-time, they set off home, where they had, for a treat, hot toast for tea, and a game at forfeits afterwards.

So Mr. and Mrs. Strutt got on much better with the Seminary than the Surgery; and it is said that after a few years they had more than fifty boarders who used often to take rambles in the Highgate Meadows.

London:--Printed by G. BARCLAY, Castle St. Leicester Sq.