The Choice Humorous Works, Ludicrous Adventures 85

The Choice Humorous Works, Ludicrous Adventures 85

"Yes, sir," said I, after I had heard this narrative, "but I see no

joke in all this: it appears to me that a person less favourably

disposed than myself would find a very different name for such a

proceeding."

 

"So would anybody," said my valuable friend, "if it were not for

the sequel. A short time after, I had the means to set all right,

and lost no time in doing so; I confessed my _ruse_ to my worthy

friend, made him laugh heartily at his own credulity, paid him the

difference, and gave Becky a guinea or two."

 

I honestly confess, that although my new friend polished off the

end of his story with a few retributive facts, the account of his

adventure with the cabinet-maker did not very much elevate him in

my opinion, and I began again to repent of having hastily engaged

myself as a passenger in his boat, so appropriately, as he himself

said, called a "funny." The only consolation I could afford myself

arose from the consideration that our connection would not be of long

duration--that it need never be renewed--that few people, if any,

would see me in my way up the river--and that, from all I had heard

of him from himself, he did not appear likely to die a watery death,

so that my personal safety was rather guaranteed than not, by my

having placed myself under his command in our aquatic excursion.

 

I had never seen such a man before, nor have I ever seen such a one

since: from the time he sat down to dinner till all was done, his

tongue never ceased--he was _au-fait_ at everything--played billiards

better than anybody I ever saw--jumped higher--imitated birds and

beasts, including men, women, and children, more correctly--caught

more fish in an hour than all the rest of the punters did in

three--sang all sorts of songs--made speeches--and told stories of

himself which would have made my poor mother's hair stand on end.

One of his practical jokes, played off upon one of the ladies of our

party, I must set down. She had never been at Richmond before, or if

she had, knew none of the little peculiarities attached to it. He

desired the waiter to bring some "maids of honour"--those cheesecakes

for which the place has been time out of mind so celebrated. The lady

stared and then laughed; Daly saw her surprise, and elicited all

he wanted--her innocent question of, "What do you mean by maids of

honour?" "Dear me," said he, "don't you know that this is so courtly

a place, and so completely under the influence of state etiquette,

that everything in Richmond is called after the functionaries of the

palace? What are called cheesecakes elsewhere, are here called maids

of honour; a capon is a lord-chamberlain; a goose, a lord-steward; a

roast pig is a master of the horse; a pair of ducks, grooms of the

bedchamber; and a gooseberry tart, a gentleman usher of the black

rod; and so on."

 

The unsophisticated lady was taken in; and with all the confidence

which Daly's gravity inspired, when she actually saw the maids of

honour make their appearance in the shape of cheesecakes, convulsed

the whole party, by turning to the waiter and desiring him, in a

sweet but decided tone, to bring her a gentleman usher of the black

rod, if they had one in the house quite cold.

 

These were the sort of _plaisanteries_ (_mauvaises_, if you will) in

which this most extraordinary person indulged. In the sequel, I had

occasion to see his versatile powers more profitably engaged, and

which led me to reflect somewhat more seriously upon the adventure of

the upholsterer and the receipt in full of all demands.

 

The dinner was rather inconveniently despatched, in order to suit

the convenience of the engaged performers, and by seven o'clock my

new friend and myself were left to commence our voyage up the river.

His spirits appeared even higher than they had been before, and

I felt myself, when consigned to his care, something in the same

situation as Mr. O'Rourke on the eagle's back: whither I was to be

carried by his influence, or how to be dashed down when he got tired

of me I could not clearly comprehend; nor were my apprehension of

consequences in any satisfactory degree diminished when my perilous

companion commenced a violent wordy attack upon a very respectable

round-bodied gentleman who was sitting squeezed into the stern-sheets

of a skiff, floating most agreeably to himself adown the stream, the

gentle south-west breeze giving the sail of his boat a shape very

similar to that of his equally well-filled white dimity waistcoat.

 

"Hollo!" cried my friend Daly; "I say, you sir, what are you doing in

that boat?"

 

The suburban Josh maintained a dignified silence.

 

"I say, you sir," continued the undaunted joker, "what are you doing

there? you have no business in that boat, and you know it!"

 

A slight yaw of the skiff into the wind's eye was the only proof of

the stout navigator's agitation.

 

Still Daly was inexorable, and he again called to the unhappy mariner

to get out of the boat. "I tell you, my fat friend," cried he, "you

have no business in that boat!"

 

Flesh and blood could not endure this reiterated declaration. The ire

of the Cockney was roused. "No business in this boat, sir!" cried he,

"what d'ye mean?"

 

"I mean what I say," said Daly; "you have no business in it, and I'll

prove it."

 

"I think, sir, you will prove no such thing," said the navigator,

whose progress through the water was none of the quickest; "perhaps

you don't know, sir, that this is my own pleasure-boat?"

 

"That's it," said Daly, "now you _have_ it--no man can have any

_business_ in a _pleasure_-boat. Good-day, sir. That's all."

 

I confess I was a good deal shocked at this mode of terminating the

colloquy. However, no ill consequences arose; the fat man went his

way, and so did we, and in a few minutes more embarked in Daly's

"pleasure"-boat, in which I felt, according to his dictum, that I had

no business whatever.

 

Richmond, which seems, every time one sees it, as if it were dressed

to look lovely for that particular day, was smiling in all its

radiance and gaiety; the velvet meadows of Twickenham, studded with

noble trees, looked cooler and greener than ever; and my friend began

to perform that incomprehensibly agreeable exercise of pulling up

against the stream, when all at once a thought seemed to flash across

his mind and a look of regret sadden his countenance; the __EXPRESSION__

was too distinct to be mistaken or disregarded.

 

"What," said I, "what is the matter? have you left anything behind?"

 

"No," said he, laughing; "but if I had thought of it, we would not

have come away so soon from Richmond; and I would have shown you some

sport in Cockney-catching."

 

"What do you mean?" asked innocent I.

 

"A trick specially my own," replied Daly, "to be played with the

greatest success between the grounds of Sion and Kew Gardens.

Thus:--In the dusk of the evening--I prescribe scientifically--take a

strong line, fix him to a peg in the bank of Sion, carry him across

the river, and fix him to another peg in the bank of Kew; strain

him tight, and then retire to watch the effect. Tide running down,

presently comes a Cockney couple, the man flirting and pulling,

the lady sitting and smiling; when they reach the chosen spot, the

tight line catches the Cockney Corydon on the back of his head, and

tumbles him forward at the feet of his Phyllis; in a twinkling,

the same effect is produced on the lady, with this single simple

difference, that the cord catches _her_ under the chin, and tumbles

her backwards. In the confusion of the moment, tide ebbing fast, the

happy pair are swept down the stream, and having, after the lapse of

a few minutes, set themselves to rights again, begin to wonder what

has happened, and of course never think of trying back against tide

to ascertain the cause; which, however, if they did, would assist

them little, for the moment you have caught your Cockneys, you cast

off the line from the peg, and the cause of the mischief disappears

from the sight--_probatum est_."

 

"That seems rather a serious joke," said I.

 

"Umph!" replied Daly; "perhaps you would prefer keeping the line, but

for my part I am not particular."

 

This he certainly need not have mentioned. Every moment added fresh

evidence to the fearful fact; I was yet unprepared for what was to

come.

 

"I wish," said my friend, as he plied the oar, "that we had stayed

a little longer at Richmond. I think one more bottle of claret,

_tête-à-tête_, would have been vastly agreeable."

 

"I should not have disliked it myself," said I. "Is it impossible to

repair the mischief?--is there no agreeable retreat on these shores,

in which we may solace ourselves for our imprudence?"

 

"No," said my friend; "the Eel-pie House is a wretched hole--the inns

at Twickenham are all inland--there is nothing marine short of the

Toy, and we are to part long before I reach that much-loved spot."

 

"Then," said I, "we must make up our minds to the evil, and bear it

as well as we can."

 

At this moment we were under the bank of a beautiful garden, upon

which opened a spacious bow-windowed dinner-room, flanked by an

extensive conservatory. Within the circle of the window was placed a

table, whereon stood bottles and decanters, rising, as it were, from

amidst a cornucopia of the choicest fruits. Around this table were

seated a highly-respectable family; a portly gentleman, whose cheeks

and chin gave ample evidence that such refections were "his custom

always in the afternoon," and near him a lady, evidently his better,

if not his larger half--on either side bloomed two young creatures,

unquestionably the daughters of the well-fed pair. Our appearance,

although the lawn was some twenty or thirty yards in depth, had

caught their attention, as their respective forms and figures had

attracted our notice.

 

"There," said I, "this scene is exhibited to us by our evil genius,

to tantalize us with the prospect we may not enjoy."

 

"You are wrong," said Daly, "quite wrong--be quiet--beautiful girls,

cool wine, and agreeable society, are worth making a dash for.

Those girls will we become acquainted with--that society will we join--those wines will we imbibe."