bookssland.com Ā» Short Story Ā» A House to Let, et al - Charles Dickens (e book reader free .txt) šŸ“—

Book online Ā«A House to Let, et al - Charles Dickens (e book reader free .txt) šŸ“—Ā». Author Charles Dickens



1 ... 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 ... 19
Go to page:
of words, and they was generally the last thing he said to me at night afore he went to bed.

He had what I consider a fine mindā€”a poetic mind. His ideas respectin his property never come upon him so strong as when he sat upon a barrel-organ and had the handle turned. Arter the wibration had run through him a little time, he would screech out, ā€œToby, I feel my property comingā€”grind away! Iā€™m counting my guineas by thousands, Tobyā€”grind away! Toby, I shall be a man of fortun! I feel the Mint a jingling in me, Toby, and Iā€™m swelling out into the Bank of England!ā€ Such is the influence of music on a poetic mind. Not that he was partial to any other music but a barrel-organ; on the contrary, hated it.

He had a kind of a everlasting grudge agin the Public: which is a thing you may notice in many phenomenons that get their living out of it. What riled him most in the nater of his occupation was, that it kep him out of Society. He was continiwally saying, ā€œToby, my ambition is, to go into Society. The curse of my position towards the Public is, that it keeps me hout of Society. This donā€™t signify to a low beast of a Indian; he anā€™t formed for Society. This donā€™t signify to a Spotted Baby; HE anā€™t formed for Society.ā€”I am.ā€

Nobody never could make out what Chops done with his money. He had a good salary, down on the drum every Saturday as the day came round, besides having the run of his teethā€”and he was a Woodpecker to eatā€”but all Dwarfs are. The sarser was a little income, bringing him in so many halfpence that heā€™d carry ā€˜em for a week together, tied up in a pocket-handkercher. And yet he never had money. And it couldnā€™t be the Fat Lady from Norfolk, as was once supposed; because it stands to reason that when you have a animosity towards a Indian, which makes you grind your teeth at him to his face, and which can hardly hold you from Goosing him audible when heā€™s going through his WarDanceā€”it stands to reason you wouldnā€™t under them circumstances deprive yourself, to support that Indian in the lap of luxury.

Most unexpected, the mystery come out one day at Egham Races. The Public was shy of bein pulled in, and Chops was ringin his little bell out of his drawing-room winder, and was snarlin to me over his shoulder as he kneeled down with his legs out at the back-doorā€”for he couldnā€™t be shoved into his house without kneeling down, and the premises wouldnā€™t accommodate his legsā€”was snarlin, ā€œHereā€™s a precious Public for you; why the Devil donā€™t they tumble up?ā€ when a man in the crowd holds up a carrier-pigeon, and cries out, ā€œIf thereā€™s any person here as has got a ticket, the Lotteryā€™s just drawed, and the number as has come up for the great prize is three, seven, forty-two! Three, seven, forty-two!ā€ I was givin the man to the Furies myself, for calling off the Publicā€™s attentionā€”for the Public will turn away, at any time, to look at anything in preference to the thing showed ā€˜em; and if you doubt it, get ā€˜em together for any indiwidual purpose on the face of the earth, and send only two people in late, and see if the whole company anā€™t far more interested in takin particular notice of them two than of youā€” I say, I wasnā€™t best pleased with the man for callin out, and wasnā€™t blessin him in my own mind, when I see Chopsā€™s little bell fly out of winder at a old lady, and he gets up and kicks his box over, exposin the whole secret, and he catches hold of the calves of my legs and he says to me, ā€œCarry me into the wan, Toby, and throw a pail of water over me or Iā€™m a dead man, for Iā€™ve come into my property!ā€

Twelve thousand odd hundred pound, was Chopsā€™s winnins. He had bought a half-ticket for the twenty-five thousand prize, and it had come up. The first use he made of his property, was, to offer to fight the Wild Indian for five hundred pound a side, him with a poisoned darnin-needle and the Indian with a club; but the Indian being in want of backers to that amount, it went no further.

Arter he had been mad for a weekā€”in a state of mind, in short, in which, if I had let him sit on the organ for only two minutes, I believe he would have bustā€”but we kep the organ from himā€”Mr. Chops come round, and behaved liberal and beautiful to all. He then sent for a young man he knowed, as had a wery genteel appearance and was a Bonnet at a gaming-booth (most respectable brought up, father havin been imminent in the livery stable line but unfortā€™nate in a commercial crisis, through paintin a old gray, ginger-bay, and sellin him with a Pedigree), and Mr. Chops said to this Bonnet, who said his name was Normandy, which it wasnā€™t:

ā€œNormandy, Iā€™m a goin into Society. Will you go with me?ā€

Says Normandy: ā€œDo I understand you, Mr. Chops, to hintimate that the ā€˜ole of the expenses of that move will be borne by yourself?ā€

ā€œCorrect,ā€ says Mr. Chops. ā€œAnd you shall have a Princely allowance too.ā€

The Bonnet lifted Mr. Chops upon a chair, to shake hands with him, and replied in poetry, with his eyes seemingly full of tears:

 

ā€œMy boat is on the shore, And my bark is on the sea, And I do not ask for more, But Iā€™ll Go:- along with thee.ā€

 

They went into Society, in a chay and four grays with silk jackets. They took lodgings in Pall Mall, London, and they blazed away.

In consequence of a note that was brought to Bartlemy Fair in the autumn of next year by a servant, most wonderful got up in milk-white cords and tops, I cleaned myself and went to Pall Mall, one evening appinted. The gentlemen was at their wine arter dinner, and Mr. Chopsā€™s eyes was more fixed in that Ed of his than I thought good for him. There was three of ā€˜em (in company, I mean), and I knowed the third well. When last met, he had on a white Roman shirt, and a bishopā€™s mitre covered with leopard-skin, and played the clarionet all wrong, in a band at a Wild Beast Show.

This gent took on not to know me, and Mr. Chops said: ā€œGentlemen, this is a old friend of former days:ā€ and Normandy looked at me through a eye-glass, and said, ā€œMagsman, glad to see you!ā€ā€”which Iā€™ll take my oath he wasnā€™t. Mr. Chops, to git him convenient to the table, had his chair on a throne (much of the form of George the Fourthā€™s in the canvass), but he hardly appeared to me to be King there in any other pint of view, for his two gentlemen ordered about like Emperors. They was all dressed like May-Dayā€”gorgeous!ā€”And as to Wine, they swam in all sorts.

I made the round of the bottles, first separate (to say I had done it), and then mixed ā€˜em all together (to say I had done it), and then tried two of ā€˜em as half-and-half, and then tā€™other two. Altogether, I passed a pleasin evenin, but with a tendency to feel muddled, until I considered it good manners to get up and say, ā€œMr. Chops, the best of friends must part, I thank you for the wariety of foreign drains you have stood so ā€˜ansome, I looks towards you in red wine, and I takes my leave.ā€ Mr. Chops replied, ā€œIf youā€™ll just hitch me out of this over your right arm, Magsman, and carry me downstairs, Iā€™ll see you out.ā€ I said I couldnā€™t think of such a thing, but he would have it, so I lifted him off his throne. He smelt strong of Maideary, and I couldnā€™t help thinking as I carried him down that it was like carrying a large bottle full of wine, with a rayther ugly stopper, a good deal out of proportion.

When I set him on the door-mat in the hall, he kep me close to him by holding on to my coat-collar, and he whispers:

ā€œI ainā€™t ā€˜appy, Magsman.ā€

ā€œWhatā€™s on your mind, Mr. Chops?ā€

ā€œThey donā€™t use me well. They anā€™t grateful to me. They puts me on the mantel-piece when I wonā€™t have in more Champagne-wine, and they locks me in the sideboard when I wonā€™t give up my property.ā€

ā€œGet rid of ā€˜em, Mr. Chops.ā€

ā€œI canā€™t. Weā€™re in Society together, and what would Society say?ā€

ā€œCome out of Society!ā€ says I.

ā€œI canā€™t. You donā€™t know what youā€™re talking about. When you have once gone into Society, you mustnā€™t come out of it.ā€

ā€œThen if youā€™ll excuse the freedom, Mr. Chops,ā€ were my remark, shaking my head grave, ā€œI think itā€™s a pity you ever went in.ā€

Mr. Chops shook that deep Ed of his, to a surprisin extent, and slapped it half a dozen times with his hand, and with more Wice than I thought were in him. Then, he says, ā€œYouā€™re a good fellow, but you donā€™t understand. Good-night, go along. Magsman, the little man will now walk three times round the Cairawan, and retire behind the curtain.ā€ The last I see of him on that occasion was his tryin, on the extremest werge of insensibility, to climb up the stairs, one by one, with his hands and knees. Theyā€™d have been much too steep for him, if he had been sober; but he wouldnā€™t be helped.

It warnā€™t long after that, that I read in the newspaper of Mr. Chopsā€™s being presented at court. It was printed, ā€œIt will be recollectedā€ā€”and Iā€™ve noticed in my life, that it is sure to be printed that it WILL be recollected, whenever it wonā€™tā€”ā€œthat Mr. Chops is the individual of small stature, whose brilliant success in the last State Lottery attracted so much attention.ā€ Well, I says to myself, Such is Life! He has been and done it in earnest at last. He has astonished George the Fourth!

(On account of which, I had that canvass new-painted, him with a bag of money in his hand, a presentin it to George the Fourth, and a lady in Ostrich Feathers fallin in love with him in a bag-wig, sword, and buckles correct.)

I took the House as is the subject of present inquiriesā€”though not the honour of bein acquaintedā€”and I run Magsmanā€™s Amusements in it thirteen monthsā€”sometimes one thing, sometimes another, sometimes nothin particular, but always all the canvasses outside. One night, when we had played the last company out, which was a shy company, through its raining Heavens hard, I was takin a pipe in the one pair back along with the young man with the toes, which I had taken on for a month (though he never drawedā€”except on paper), and I heard a kickin at the street door. ā€œHalloa!ā€ I says to the young man, ā€œwhatā€™s up!ā€ He rubs his eyebrows with his toes, and he says, ā€œI canā€™t imagine, Mr. Magsmanā€ā€”which he never could imagine nothin, and was monotonous company.

The noise not leavin off, I laid down my pipe, and I took up a candle, and I went down and opened the door. I looked out into the street; but nothin could I see, and nothin was I aware of, until I turned round quick, because some creetur run between my legs into the passage. There was Mr. Chops!

ā€œMagsman,ā€ he says, ā€œtake me, on the old terms, and youā€™ve got me; if itā€™s done, say done!ā€

I was all of a maze, but I said, ā€œDone, sir.ā€

ā€œDone to your done, and double done!ā€

1 ... 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 ... 19
Go to page:

Free e-book Ā«A House to Let, et al - Charles Dickens (e book reader free .txt) šŸ“—Ā» - read online now

Comments (0)

There are no comments yet. You can be the first!
Add a comment