Punch or The London charivari (1.1841)

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

109

rtR THE WEEK ENDING SEPTB3IBER IS, 1S41.

THE HEIR OF APPLEBITE.

CHAPTER IV.

DEAL to SAY about some on'e else BESIDES our
HEllO.

INDNESSwas a characteristic of Aga-
memnon's disposition, and it is not
therefore a matter of surprise that " the
month "—the month, par excellence, of
"all the months i'the kalendar "—pro-
duced a succession of those annoyances
which, in the best regulated families, are
certain to be partially experienced by
the masculine progenitor. O, bache-
lors ! be warned in time; let not love
link you to his flowery traces and draw
you into the temple of Hymen ! Be
not deluded by the glowing fallacies of
Anacreon and Boccaccio, but remember
that they were bachelors. There is no-
thing exhilarating in caudle, nor enchant-
ing in Kensington-gardens, when you are
converted into a light porter of children. We have been married, and are
now seventy-one, and wear a " brown George ;" consequents, we have
experience and cool blood in our veins—two excellent auxiliaries in
the formation of a correct judgment in all matters connected with the
heart.

Our pen must have been the pinion of a wild goose, or why these con-
tinued digressions ?

Agamemnon's troubles commenced with the first cough of Mrs. Pilcher
on the door-mat. Mrs. P. was the monthly nurse, and monthly nurses
always have a short cough. Whether this phenomenon arises from the
obesity consequent upon arm-chairs and good living, or from an habitual
intimation that they are present, and have not received half-a-crown, or a
systematic declaration that the throat is dry, and would not object to a
gargle of gi.i, and perhaps a little water, or—but there is no use hunting a
conjecture, when you are all but certain of not catching it.

Mrs. Pilcher was " the moral of a nurse ;" she was about forty-eight,
and had, according to her own account, " been the mother of eighteen lovely
oabes, born in wedlock," though her most intimate friends had never been
introduced to more than one young gentleman, with a nose like a wart, and
hair like a scrubbing-brush. When he made his debut, he was attired in a
tuit of blue drugget, with the pewter order of the parish of St. Clement on
his bosom ; and rumour declared that he owed his origin to half-a-crown a
reek, paid every Saturday. Mrs. Pilcher weighed about thirteen stone,
including her bundle, and a pint medicine-bottle, which latter article she
invariably carried in her dexter pocket, filled with a strong tincture of
juniper berries, and extract of cloves. This mixture had been pre-
scribed to her for what she called a '• sinkingness," which afflicted her
about 10 a.m., 11 a.m. (dinner), 2 p.m., 3 p.m. 4 p.m. 5 p.m. (tea),
7 p.m., 8 p.m. (supper), 10 p.m., and at uncertain intervals during the
flight.

Mrs. Pilcher was a martyr to a delicate appetite, for she could
never " make nothing of a breakfast if she warn't coaxed with a Yar-
mouth bloater, a rasher of ham, or a little bit of steak done with the
gravy in."

Her luncheon was obliged to be a mutton-chop, or a grilled bone, and
a pint of porter, bread and cheese having the effect of rendering her " as
cross as two sticks, and as sour as werjuice." Her dinner, and its satel-
lites, tea and supper, were all required to be hot, strong, and comfort-
able. A peculiar hallucination under which she laboured is worthy of
remark. When eating, it was always her declared conviction that she
never drank anything, and when detected coquetting with a pint pot or a
tumbler, she was equally assured that she never did eat anything after her
breakfast.

Mrs. Pilcher's duties never permitted her to take anything resem-
bling continuous rest; she had therefore another prescription for an
hour's doze after dinner. Mrs. Pilcher was also troubled with a stiff-
ness of the knee-joints, which never allowed her to wait upon herself.

When this amiable creature had deposited herself in Collumpsioa's
old easy-chair, and, with her bundle on her knees, gasped out her first
inquiry—■

" I hopes all's as well as can be expected ? "

The heart of Pater Collurnpsion trembled in his bosom, for he felt
that to this incongruous mass wras to be confided the first blossom
of his wedded love; and that for one month the dynasty of 24, Pleasant-
terrace was transferred from his hands to that of Mrs. Waddledot,
iiii wife's mother, and Mrs. Pilcher, the monthly nurse. There was a
short struggle for supremacy bstsveen the two latter personages ; but
an angry appeal having been made to Mrs. Applebite, by the lady

" who had nussed the first families in this land, and, in course, know'd
her business," Mrs. Waddledot was forced to yield to Mrs. Pilcher's bundle
in transitu, and Mrs. Applebite's hysterics in perspective.

Mrs. Pilcher was a nursery Macauley, and had the faculty of discovering
latent beauties in very small infants, that none but doting parents ever
believed. Agamemnon was an early convert to her avowed opinions of the
heir of Applebite, who, like all other heirs of the same age, resembled a
black boy boiled—that is, if there is any affinity between lobsters and
niggers. This peculiar style of eloquence rendered her other eccentricities
less objectionable; and when, upon one occasion, the mixture of junipei
and cloves had disordered her head, instead of comforting her stomachic
regions, she excused herself by solemnly declaring, that " the brilliancy of
the little darling's eyes, and his intoxicating manners, had made her feel as
giddy as a goose." Collurnpsion and Theresa both declared her discern-
ment was equal to her caudle, of which, by-the-bye, she was au excellent
concocter and consumer.

Old John and the rest of the servants, however, had no parental string
at which Mrs. Pilcher could tug, and the consequence was, that they
decided that she was an insufferable bore. Old John, in particular, felt the
ill effects of the heir of Applebite's appearance in the family, and to such
a degree did they interfere with his old comforts, without increasing his
pecuniary resources, that he determined one morning, when taking up his
master's shaving water, absolutely to give warning; for what with the
morning calls, and continual ringing for glasses—the perpetual communi-
cation kept up between the laundry-maid and the mangle, and of which he
was the circulating medium—the insolence of the nurse, who had ordered
him to carry five soiled—never mind—down stairs : all these annoyances
combined, the old servant declared were too much for him.

Collurnpsion laid his hand on John's shoulder, and pointing to some of
the little evidences of paternity which had found their way even into his
dormitory, said, " John, think what I suffer ; do not leave me ; I'll raise
your wages, and engage a boy to help you; but you are the only thing that
reminds me of my happy bachelorhood—you are the only one that can feel
a_feel a-"

" Caudle regard," interrupted John.

" Caudle be--." The " rest is silence," for at that moment Mrs.

Waddledot entered the room, gave a short scream, and went out again.

The month passed, and a hackney-coach, containing a bundle and the
respectable Mrs. Pilcher, &c, rumbled from the door of No. 24, to the
infinite delight of old John the footman, Betty the housemaid, Esther the
nurserymaid, Susan the cook, and Agamemnon Collurnpsion Applebite the
proprietor.

How transitory is earthly happiness ! How certain its uncertainty ! A
little week had passed, and the " Heir of Applebite" gave notice of his
intention to come into his property during an early minority, for his once
happy progenitor began to entertain serious intentions of employing a
coroner's jury to sit upon himself, owing to the incessant and " ear-piercing
pipe" of his little cherub. Vainly did he bury his head beneath the pillow,
until he was suffused with perspiration—the cry reached him there and
then. Cold air was pumped into the bed by Mrs. Applebite, as she rocked
to and fro, in the hope of quieting the " son of the sleepless." Collurnp-
sion was in constant communication with the dressing-table—now for moist-
sugar to stay the hiccough—then for dill-water to allay the stomach-ache.
To save his little cherub from convulsions, twice was he converted into a
night-patrole, with the thermometer below zero—a bad fire, with a large
slate in it, and an empty coal-scuttle.

SURREY ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS.

" Variety," say our school copy-books, "is charming;" hence this
must be the most charming place of amusement in London. The annexed
list of entertainments was produced on Tuesday last, when were added to
the usual passe-temps, a flower and fruit show. Wild beasts in cages ;
flowers of all colours and sizes in pots; enormous cabbages ; Brobdignag
apples ; immense sticks of rhubarb ; a view of Rome ; a brass band ; a
grand Roman cavalcade passing over the bridge of St. Angelo; a deafening
park of artillery, and an enchanting series of pyrotechnic wonders, such as
catherine-wheels, flower-pots, and rockets; an illumination of St. Peter's;
blazes of blue-fire, showers of steel-filings, and a grand blow up of the
castle of St. Angelo.

Such are the entertainments provided by the proprietor. The company
—which numbered at least from five to six thousand—gave them even
greater variety. Numerous pic-nic parties were seated about on the grass ,
sandwiches, bottled stout, and (with reverence be it spoken) more poteut
liquors seemed to be highly relished, especially by the ladies. Ices were
sold at a pastry-cook's stall, where a continued feu-de-joie of ginger-pop
was kept up during the whole afternoon and evening. In short, the scene
was one of complete alfresco enjoyment ; how could it be otherwise ? The
flowers delighted the eye ; Mr. Godfrey's well-trained band (to wit, Bee-
thoven's symphony in C minor, with all the fiddle passages beautifully
executed upon clarionets !) charmed the ear; and the edibles aud drink-
ables aforesaid the palate. Under such a press of agreeables, the Surrey
Zoological Gardens well deserve the name of an Englishman's paradise.