Chapter 51

SQUIRE EGAN AND HIS NEW IRISH SERVANT, ANDY. Squire. Well, Andy, you went to the postoffice, as I ordered you? Andy. Yis, sir. Squire. Well, what did you find? Andy. A most impertinent fellow indade, sir. Squire. How so? Andy Says I, as decent like as a gentleman, "I want a letther, sir, if you plase." "Who do you want it for?" said the posth-masther, as ye call him. "I want a letter, sir, if you plase," said I "And whom do you want it for?" said he again. "And what 's that to you?" said I. Squire. You blockhead, what did he say to that? Andy. He laughed at me, sir, and said he could not tell what leather to give me, unless I told him the direction. Squire. Well, you told him then, did you? Andy. "The directions I got," said I "was to get a leather here,--that 's the directions." "Who gave you the directions?" says he. "The masther" said I. "And who 's your masther?" said he. "What consarn is that of yours?" said I. Squire. Did he break your head, then? Andy. No sir. "Why you stupid rascal," said he, "if you don't tell me his name, how can I give you his leather?" "You could give it, if you liked," said I; "only you are fond of axing impudent questions, because you think I'm simple." "Get out o' this!" said he. "Your masther must be as great a goose as yourself, to send such a missenger." Squire. Well, how did you save my honor, Andy? Andy. "Bad luck to your impudence!" said I. "Is it Squire Egan you dare say goose to?" "O Squire Egan's your masther?" said he. "Yes," says I; "Have you anything to say agin it?" Squire. You got the letter, then, did you? Andy. "Here 's a leather for the squire," says he. "You are to pay me eleven pence posthage." "What 'ud I pay 'levenpence for?" said I "For posthage," said he. "Did n't I see you give that gentlewoman a leather for four-pence, this blessed minit?" said I; "and a bigger letther than this? Do you think I 'm a fool?" says I? "Here 's a four-pence for you, and give me the letther." Squire. I wonder he did n't break your skull, and let some light into it. Andy. "Go along, you stupid thafe!" says he, because I would n't let him chate your honor. Square. Well, well; give me the letter. Andy. I have n't it, sir. He would n't give it to me, sir. Squire. Who would n't give it to you? Andy. That old chate beyant in the town. Square. Did n't you pay what he asked? Andy. Arrah, sir, why would I let you be chated, when he was selling them before my face for four-pence a-piece? Squire. Go back, you scoundrel, or I'll horsewhip you. Andy. He'll murther me, if I say another word to him about the leather; he swore he would. Squire. I'll do it, if he don't, if you are not back in less than an hour. [Exit] Andy. O, that the like of me should be murthered for defending the charrackter of my masther! It's not I'll go to dale with that bloody chate again. I'll off to Dublin, and let the leather rot on his dirty hands, bad luck to him! Anonymous.

CCCLXXIX.

THE FRENCHMAN'S LESSON.

Frenchman. Ha! my friend! I have met one very strange name in my lesson. Vat you call H-o-u-g-h,--eh? Tutor. "Huff." Fr. Très bien, "huff;" and snuff you spell s-n-o-u-p-h? Tut. Oh! no, no! "Snuff" is spelled s-n-u-f-f. In fact, words in o-u-g-h are a little irregular. Fr. Ah, very good!--'t is beautiful language! H-o-u-g-h is "huff." I will remember; and of course, c-o-u-g-h is "cuff." I have a bad "cuff,"--eh? Tut. No, that is wrong; we say "kauff,"--not "cuff" Fr. "Kauff," eh? "Huff," and "kauff;" and, pardonnez-moi, how you call d-o-u-g-h--"duff,"--eh? is it "duff?" Tut. No, not "duff." Fr. Not "duff!" Ah oui; I understand, it is "dauff," --eh? Tut. No; d-o-u-g-h spells "doe." Fr. "Doe!" It 's ver' fine! Wonderful language! It is "doe;" and t-o-u-g-h is "toe," certainement. My beefsteak is very "toe." Tut. Oh! no, no! You should say "tuff." Fr. "Tuff!" And the thing the farmer uses, how you call him, p-l-o-u-g-h,--"pluff," is it? Ha! you smile. I see that I am wrong; it must be "plaff." No? then it is "ploe," like "doe?" It is one beautiful language! ver' fine! "ploe!" Tut. You are still wrong, my friend; it is "plow." Fr. "Plow!" Wonderful language! I shall understand ver' soon. "Plow" "doe" "kauff;" and one more r-o-u-g-h --what you call General Taylor,--"Rauff and Ready?" No? then "Row and Ready?" Tut. No; r-o-u-g-h spells "ruff." Fr. "Ruff," ha? Let me not forget. R-o-u-g-h is "ruff," and b-o-u-g-h is "buff,"--ha? Tut. No; "bow." Fr. Ah! 't is ver' simple! Wonderful language! But I have had vat you call e-n-o-u-g-h,--ha? Vat you call him?--Ha! ha! ha! Anonymous.

CCCLXXX.

HOW TO TELL BAD NEWS.

Mr. H.--Steward.

Mr. H. Ha! Steward, How are you, my old boy? How do things go on at home? Steward. Bad enough, your honor; the magpie's dead. Mr. H. Poor mag! so he's gone. How came he to die? Stew. Over-ate himself sir. Mr. H. Did he, faith? a greedy dog; why, what did he get he liked so well? Stew. Horse-flesh, sir; he died of eating horse-flesh. Mr. H. How came he to get so much horse-flesh? Stew. All your father's horses, sir. Mr. H. What! Are they dead, too? Stew. Ay, sir; they died of over-work. Mr. H. And why were they over-worked, pray? Stew. To carry water, sir. Mr. H. To carry water! and what were they carrying water for? Stew. Sure, sir, to put out the fire. Mr. H. Fire! what fire? Stew. Oh, sir, your father's house is burned down to the ground. Mr. H. My father's house burned down! and how came it set on fire? Stew. I think, sir, it must have been the torches. Mr. H. Torches! what torches? Stew. At your mother's funeral. Mr. H. My mother dead! Stem. Ah, poor lady, she never looked up after it. Mr. H. After what? Stew. The loss of your father. Mr. H. My father gone too? Stew. Yes, poor gentleman, he took to his bed as soon as he heard of it. Mr. H. Heard of what? Stew. The bad news, sir, and please your Honor. Mr. H. What! more miseries! more bad news? Stew. Yes, sir, your bank has failed, and your credit is lost, and you are not worth a shilling in the world. I made bold, sir, to come to wait on you about it, for I thought you would like to hear the news. Anonymous.

CCCLXXXI.

THE CHOLERIC father.

CAPT. ABSOLUTE--SIR ANTHONY

Capt. A. Sir, I am delighted to see you here and looking so well! Your sudden arrival at Bath made me apprehensive for your health. Sir A. Very apprehensive, I dare say, Jack. What, are you recruiting here, eh? Capt. A. Yes, sir; I am on duty. Sir A. Well, Jack! I am glad to see you, though I did not expect it; for I was going to write to you on a little matter of business. Jack, I have been considering that I grow old and infirm, and shall probably not trouble you long. Capt. A. Pardon me, sir, I never saw you look more strong and hearty; and I pray fervently that you may continue so. Sir A. I hope your prayers may be heard, with all my heart. Well, then, Jack, I have been considering that as I am so strong and hearty, I may continue to plague you a long time. Now, Jack, I am sensible that the income of your commission, and what I have hitherto allowed you, is but a small pittance for a lad of your spirit. Capt. A. Sir, you are very good. Sir A. And it is my wish, while yet I live, to have my boy make some figure in the world. I have resolved, therefore, to fix you at once in a noble independence. Capt. A Sir, your kindness overpowers me. Such generosity makes the gratitude of reason more lively than the sensation even of filial affection. Sir A. I am glad you are so sensible of my attention; and you shall be master of a large estate in a few weeks. Capt. A. Let my future life, sir, speak my gratitude. I cannot express the sense I have of your munificence. Yet, sir, I presume you would not wish me to quit the army? Sir A. O, that shall be as your wife chooses. Capt. A. My wife, sir? Sir A. Ay, ay, settle that between you--settle that between you. Capt. A. A wife, sir, did you say? Sir A. Ay, a wife--why did I not mention her before? Capt A. Not a word of her, sir. Sir A. Upon my word, I must n't forget her, though! Yes, Jack, the independence I was talking of is by a marriage--the fortune is saddled with a wife; but I suppose that makes no difference? Capt. A. Sir! sir, you amaze me! Sir A. What 's the matter? Just now you were all gratitude and duty. Capt. A. I was, sir; you talked to me of independence and a fortune, but not one word of a wife. Sir A. Why, what difference does that make? Sir, if you have the estate, you must take it with the live stock on it, as it stands. Capt. A. If my happiness is to be the price, I must beg leave to decline the purchase. Pray, sir, who is the lady? Sir A. What 's that to you, sir? Come, give me your promise to love, and to marry her directly. Capt. A. Sure, sir, that 's not very reasonable, to summon my affections for a lady I know nothing of! Sir A. I am sure, sir, 't is more unreasonable in you to object to a lady you know nothing of. Capt. A. You must excuse me, sir, if I tell you, once for all, that on this point I cannot obey you. Sir A. Hark you, Jack! I have heard you for some time with patience; I have been cool,--quite cool; but take care; you know I am compliance itself, when I am not thwarted; no one more easily led--when I have my own way; but don't put me in a frenzy. Capt. A. Sir, I must repeat it; in this I cannot obey you. Sir A. Now, shoot me, if ever I call you Jack again while I live! Capt. A. Nay, sir, but hear me. Sir A. Sir, U won't hear a word--not a word!--not one word!--So, give me your promise by a nod; and I 'll tell you what, Jack,--I mean, you dog,--if you don't-- Capt. A. What, sir, promise to link myself to some mass of ugliness; to-- Sir A. Sir, the lady shall be as ugly as I choose; she shall have a hump on each shoulder; she shall be as crooked as the crescent; her one eye shall roll like the bull's in Cox's Museum; she shall leave a skin like a mumps and the beard of a Jew; he shall be all this, sir! Yet, I'll make you ogle her all day, and sit up all night to write sonnets on her beauty! Capt. A. This is reason and moderation, indeed! Sir A. None of your sneering, puppy! no grinning, jackanapes! Capt. A. Indeed, sir, I never was in a worse humor for mirth in my life. Sir A. 'T is false, sir! I know you are laughing in your sleeve. I know you'll grin when I am gone, sir! Capt. A. Sir, I hope I know my duty better. Sir A. None of your passion, sir! none of your violence, if, you please! It won't do with me, I promise you. Capt. A. Indeed, sir, I never was cooler in my life. Sir A. I know you are in a passion in your heart; I know you are, you hypocritical young dog! But it won't do! Capt. A. Nay, sir, upon my word Sir A. So you will fly out! Can't you be cool like me? What good can passion do? Passion is of no service, you impudent, insolent, overbearing reprobate! There, you sneer again! Don't provoke me! But you rely upon the mildness of my temper, you do, you dog! You play upon the meekness of my disposition! Yet, take care; the patience of a saint may be overcome at last! But, mark: I give you six hours and a half to consider of this: if you then agree without any condition, to do everything on earth that I choose, why, I may, in time, forgive you. lf not, don't enter the same hemisphere with me; don't care to breathe the same air, or use the same light, with me; but get an atmosphere and a sun of your own! I'll strip you of your commission; I'll lodge a five-and-three-pence in the hands of trustees, and you shall live on the interest! I'll disown you. I'll disinherit you! I'll never call you Jack again. [Exit.] Capt. A. Mild, gentle, considerate father! I kiss your hand. R. B. Sheridan.

CCCLXXXII.

ROLLA AND ALONZO.

[ENTER ROLLA DISGUISED AS A MONK.]

Rolla. Inform me, friend, is Alonzo, the Peruvian, confined in this dungeon? Sentinel. He is. Rolla. I must speak with him. Sentinel. You must not. Rolla. He is my friend. Sentinel. Not if he were your brother. Rolla. What is to be his fate? Sentinel. He dies at sunrise. Rolla. Ha! then I am come in time, Sentinel. Just to witness his death. Rolla. [Advancing toward the door.] Soldier, I must speak with him. Sentinel. [Pushing him back with his gun.] Back! Back! it is impossible. Rolla. I do entreat you, but for one moment. Sentinel. You entreat in vain, my orders are most strict. Rolla. Look on this massive wedge of gold! look on these precious gems! In thy land they will be wealth for thee and thine, beyond thy hope or wish. Take them; they are thine; let me but pass one moment with Alonzo. Sentinel. Away! Wouldest thou corrupt me?--me, an old Castilian! I know my duty better. Rolla. Soldier, hast thou a wife? Sentinel. I have. Rolla. Hast thou children? Sentinel. Four honest, lovely boys. Rolla. Where didst thou leave them? Sentinel. In my native village, in the very cot where I was born. Rolla. Dost thou love thy wife and children? Rolla. Do I love them? God knows my heart,--I do. Rolla. Soldier, imagine thou wert doomed to die a cruel death, in a strange land,--what would be thy last request? Sentinel. That some of my comrades should carry my dying blessing to my wife and children. Rolla. What if that comrade was at thy prison door, and should there be told, "Thy fellow-soldier dies at sunrise, yet thou shalt not for a moment see him, nor shalt thou bear his dying blessing to his poor children, or his wretched wife!"-- What would'st thou think of him who thus could drive thy comrade from the door? Sentinel. How! Rolla. Alonzo has a wife and child; and I am come but to receive for her, and for her poor babes the last blessing of my friend. Sentinel. Go in. [Exit sentinel.] Rolla. [ Calls] Alonzo! Alonzo! [Enter Alonzo, speaking as he comes in.] Alonzo. How! is my hour elapsed? Well, I am ready. Rolla Alonzo--Know me! Alonzo. Rolla! Heavens! how didst thou pass the guard? Rolla. There is not a moment to be lost in words. This disguise I tore from the dead body of a friar, as I passed our field of battle. It has gained me entrance to thy dungeon; now take it thou, and fly. Alonzo And Rolla,-- Rolla. Will remain here in thy place. Alonzo. And die for me! No! Rather eternal torture rack me. Rolla. I shall not die, Alonzo. It is thy life Pizarro seeks, not Rolla's; and thy arm may soon deliver me from prison. Or, should it be otherwise, I am as a blighted tree in the desert; nothing lives beneath my shelter. Thou art a husband and a father; the being of a lovely wife and helpless infant depend upon thy life. Go, go, along, not to save thyself but Cora and thy child. Alonzo. Urge me not thus, my friend. I am prepared to die in peace. Rolla. To die in peace! devoting her you have sworn to live for to madness, misery, and death! Alonzo. Merciful Heavens! Rolla. If thou art yet irresolute, Alonzo,--now mark me well. Thou knowest that Rolla never pledged his word, and shrank from its fulfilment. And here I swear, if thou art proudly obstinate, thou shalt have the desperate triumph of seeing Rolla perish by thy side. Alonzo. O, Rolla! you distract me! Wear you the robe and though dreadful the necessity we will strike down the guard and force our passage. Rolla. What, the soldier on duty here? Alonzo Yes,--else, seeing two, the alarm will be instant death. Rolla. For my nation's safety, I would not harm him. That soldier, mark me, is a man! All are not men that wear the human form. He refused my prayers, refused my gold, refused to admit, till his own feelings bribed him. I will not risk a hair of that man's head, to save my heartstrings from consuming fire But haste! A moment's further pause, and all is lost. Alonzo Rolla, I fear thy friendship drives me from honor and from right.. Rolla. Did Rolla ever counsel dishonor to his friend? [ Throwing the friar's garment over his shoulder.] There! conceal thy face. Now, God be with thee! Kotzebue.

CCCLXXXIII.

THE ENGLISH TRAVELLER.

Traveller. Do you belong to this house, friend? Landlord. No, it belongs to me, I guess. [ The Traveller takes out his memorandum-book, and in a low voice reads what he writes.] Trav. "Mem. Yankee landlords do not belong to their house's [Aloud] You seem young for a landlord: may I ask how old you are? Land. Yes, if you'd like to know. Trav. Hem! [Disconcerted.] Are you a native, sir? Land. No, sir; there are no natives hereabouts. Trav. "Mem. None of the inhabitants natives; ergo, all foreigners." [Aloud] Where were you born, sir? Land. Do you know where Marblehead is? Trav. Yes. Land. Well, I was not born there. Trav. Why did you ask the question, then? Land. Because my daddy was. Trav. But you were born somewhere. Land. That 's true; but as father moved up country afore the townships were marked out, my case is somewhat like the Indian's who was born at Nantucket, Cape Cod, and all along shore. Trav. Were you brought up in this place, sir? Land. No; I was raised in Varmount till mother died, and then, as father was good for nothing after that I pulled up stakes and went to sea a bit. Trav. "Mem. Yankees, instead of putting up gravestones, pull up stakes, and go to sea, when a parent dies" [Aloud] You did not follow the sea long, for you have not the air of a mariner. Land. why, you see, I had a leetle knack at the coopering business; and larning that them folks that carry it on in the West Indies die off fast, I calculated I should stand a chance to get a handsome living there. Trav. And so you turned sailor to get there? Land. Not exactly; for I agreed to work my passage by cooking for the crew, and tending the dumb critters. Trav. Dumb critters! Of what was your lading composed? Land. A leetle of everything;--horses, hogs, hoop-poles, and Hingham boxes; boards, ingyons, soap, candles, and ile. Trav. "Mem. Soap, candles, and ile, called dumb critters by the Yankees." [Aloud.] Did you arrive there safely? Land. No, I guess we did n't. Trav. Why not? Land. We had a fair wind, and sailed a pretty piece, I tell you; but jest afore we reached the eend of our vige, some pirates overhauled us, and stole all our molasses, rum, and gingerbread. Trav. Is that all they did to you? Land. No, they ordered us on board their vessel, and promised us some black-strap. Trav. "Mem. Pirates catch Yankees with a black-strap." [Aloud] Did you accept the invitation? Land. No, I guess we did n't. And so they threatened to fire into us. Trav. What did your captain do? Land. "Fire, and be dammed!" says he, "but you'd better not spill the deacon's ile, I tell you." Trav. And so you ran off, did you? Land. No; we sailed off a small piece. But the captain said it was a tarnal shame to let them steal our necessaries; and so he right about, and peppered them, I tell you. Trav. "Mem. Yankees pepper pirates when they meet them." [Aloud.] Did you take them? Land. Yes, and my shear built this house. Trav. "Mem. Yankees build houses with shears." Land. It 's an ill wind that blows nowhere, as the saying is. And now, may I make so bold as to ask whose name I shall enter in my books? Trav. Mine! Land. Hem!--if it 's not an impertinent question, may I ask which way you are travelling? Trav. Home. Land. Faith! have I not as good a right to catechize you, as you had to catechize me? Trav. Yes. "Mem. Yankees the most inquisitive people in the world,--impertinent, and unwilling to communicate information to travellers." [Aloud] Well, sir, if you have accommodations fit for a gentleman, I will put up with you. Land. They have always suited gentlemen, but I can't say how you'll like 'em. Trav. There is a tolerable prospect from this window. What hill is that, yonder? Land. Bunker Hill, sir. Trav. Pretty hill! If I had my instruments here, I should like to take it. Land. You had better not try. It required three thousand instruments to take it in '75. Tram "Mem. A common Yankee hill cannot be drawn without three thousand instruments." [Aloud] Faith, Landlord, your Yankee draughtsmen must be great bunglers. But come, sir, give me breakfast, for I must be going; There is nothing else in the vicinity worthy the notice of a traveller. Anon.

CCCLXXXIV.

THE EMBRYO LAWYER.

OLD FICKLE--TRISTAM FICKLE.