DOI Heft:
June 26, 1880
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17763#0293
Jnrn 26, 1880.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 289
THE BEADLE!
OR,
THE LATEST CHRONICLE OF SMALL-BEERJESTER.
BY
ANTHONY DOLLOP.
Author of “ The Chronicles of Bnrsellsliire,” “ Beer'jester Brewers,” “ The Half-
way House at Aleinton,” “ Thorley Farm for Cattle,” “ Family Parsonage,”
“ The Prying Minister“ Pearls Before Swine; or, Who Used His
Diamonds ? ” “ Rub the Hair,” “ The Way We Dye Now,” “Fishy Fin,”
‘ ‘ Fishy as Wildux,” “ Dr. Ihorne and David James,” “ Star and Garter,
Richmond“ Rachel Hooray!” “ The Jellies of Jelly,” “ T/ie Bertrams
and Roberts,” '''’Lady Pye-Anna,” “Tails of All Creatures,” “’Arry
’ Otspur,” “Mary Greasily,” “ Vicar of PulTbaker,” “McDermott of
Balladsinqerun,” “ Can't You Forget Her f ” “ 1/e Knew He Could
Write,” $'c.,
CHAPTER IY.
At the Archbeaconry.
__ __ __ Y reader must
^ 'n j now be requested
J _!_| .
her "matronly
cheek, while a
loud splashing in
the adjoining apartment announced that the Yenerable Archbeacon himself was
at that part of his daily morning service which would he best described as his
Absolutions.
“It’s all your stupid fault, Archbeacon!” said his amiable spouse, con-
tinuing a conversation on which her husband’s slushing had thrown a sudden
damper.
“ God Save Our Gra-ei-ous Queen! ” gasped out the clear voice of the Arch-
beacon, half shrieking half singing in his bath, as though he were suffering a
martyrdom for his loyalty; and then he appeared at the door in a bathing
wrapper, like a wet ghost, while he attacked his head with a rough towel.
“ Did you hear ? ” asked Mrs. Overwayte, sharply.
“I did, my dear,” replied the Archbeacon, “but I was just sponging
myself-”
“ Oh, it’s all very well, Archbeacon,” said the lady, interrupting him impa-
tiently. ‘ ‘ While you are sponging yourself and not attending to me, you ’ll
have my father and my sister Morleena, with nothing to live upon, coming
to sponge Upon us. With our family, we can’t stand that.”
“But my dearest ticksywicksy-” began the Archbeacon, smiling at her
fondly from behind his towel.
“ Don’t ticksywicksy me, Archbeacon,” retorted his spouse, “hut just attend.
If you let them, come sponging here, I shall throw cold water on the proposition
at once, and so I tell you beforehand.”
“My own sweetest loveydovey——” commenced her husband, beginning to
shiver, now that the effect of the first friction had gone off.
“Hold your stupid tongue,” said the lady, giving him a rap on the head
with her bunch of household keys, which made the Archbeacon dance again.
“ Hold your stupid tongue, or I ’U warm you! ”
The Archbeacon paused, knowing that, if she kept
her word, the process would be too violent for his consti-
tution.
Mrs. Overwayte continued:
“If you hadn’t advised Morleena against hooking
John Bounce, and if you hadn’t been donkey enough
to give my father the Percentorship, instead of keeping
it yourself, you old Noddy,” —here she repeated her
former movement with one key only, which made the
Archbeacon sing out in another—“ nothing of this sort
would have happened. But now there’s only one thing
for it.”
“What? my own petsy,” inquired the Archheacon,
submissively, but dodging away skilfully, in order to
avoid a quick con spirito et fortissimo movement, set in
all the keys at once, which threatened his uncovered and
naturally unprotected head.
“ Why, Noodle, don’t you see?” was the lady’s ener
getic rejoinder. “Go to law, fight this John Bounce
Get Morleena to humbug him into dropping the whole
business. My sister’s sharp enough.”
“It runs in your family, my darling,” murmured
Dr. Overwayte, jumping out of the reach of the keys
immediately after having uttered this remark, and hiding
himself within the showerbath curtains.
“I’m sharp enough for you, my man,” retorted the
lady, following him up, and pulling the string of the
hath, which brought down a deluge on his head, and,
when he had recovered from the shock, made him scream
to be let out.
“I’ll let out at you,” she went on, “if you don’t
attend to me. Morleena will adopt my advice. Bounce
will be fooled; he will have.to give up his persecution,
pay his own costs, and be kicked out of Small-Beerjester.
Then Morleena will drop him, and we ’ll get somebody
else for her, with money, and-
“Yes,” interrupted her husband, looking out for a
second, “ and I ’ll see the Bishop-” But he drew in
his head again as quickly as possible.
“See the Bishop, indeed! ” exclaimed his wife, in a
tone of deep disgust. “You might Bishop the See your-
self, if you had half a head on your shoulders. Just
notice your own stupid self in a looking-glass! No, the
Bishop’s nobody. I ’ll square Mrs. Dowdie, get the
Governor placed in a thorough good sinecure—little to do
and plenty to get—where he won’t be in our way-”
“ Hear, hear! ” said the Archheacon, from within his
bath.
“ And all you’ve got to do, instead of playing at being
a hippopotamus up in your dressing-room, and sponging
and gasping and sluicing and hopping about like a
lunatic,—all you’ve got to do is to go up to Town, and
put the whole case in the hands of Sir Isaac Allbheeze,
the Attorney-General, prosecute the Penny Prometheus,
make ’em give up John Bounce, and have him trans-
ported at the next Assizes. You ’ll do this, Arch-
beacon ? ”
“I promise and vow! ” he shouted, earnestly. “ And
now, if you’ll allow me to come out-”
“ Oh yes,” she replied; “ and, when you do come out,
mind you come out strong.”
And so the excellent lady descended to family worship,
where, among her children and servants, and in the
absence of the Archheacon, who only occasionally con-
ducted the service officially in the Cathedral or his own
Church,—though this was just about as much as his wife
could permit without interruption,—she read the morning
devotions, which consisted chiefly of verses and responses
compiled out of the hardest names to he found in the
Old Testament, with some extracts from the Commina-
tion Service, and a modern hymn, of five verses of five
lines each, three of which rhymed, and the two others
didn’t, fitted to an amateur Gregorian Chaunt limited
strictly to three notes.
The Oyerwaytes were a blessed, happy, thriving
family, and, from the Archbeacon’s appearance in the
breakfast-room, with erect head, clear, unruffled brow,
determined air, and powerful step, as I have already
described him to my readers, no one would ever for a
second imagine that such scenes as the one of which my
readers and myself, concealed somewhere in the bed-
room,—a secret entirely between ourselves and the bed-
post,—have been the silent witnesses, were of constant
recurrence during the tranquil night and the peaceful,
morning, in the comfortable Archbeaconry of Small-
Beerjester.
THE BEADLE!
OR,
THE LATEST CHRONICLE OF SMALL-BEERJESTER.
BY
ANTHONY DOLLOP.
Author of “ The Chronicles of Bnrsellsliire,” “ Beer'jester Brewers,” “ The Half-
way House at Aleinton,” “ Thorley Farm for Cattle,” “ Family Parsonage,”
“ The Prying Minister“ Pearls Before Swine; or, Who Used His
Diamonds ? ” “ Rub the Hair,” “ The Way We Dye Now,” “Fishy Fin,”
‘ ‘ Fishy as Wildux,” “ Dr. Ihorne and David James,” “ Star and Garter,
Richmond“ Rachel Hooray!” “ The Jellies of Jelly,” “ T/ie Bertrams
and Roberts,” '''’Lady Pye-Anna,” “Tails of All Creatures,” “’Arry
’ Otspur,” “Mary Greasily,” “ Vicar of PulTbaker,” “McDermott of
Balladsinqerun,” “ Can't You Forget Her f ” “ 1/e Knew He Could
Write,” $'c.,
CHAPTER IY.
At the Archbeaconry.
__ __ __ Y reader must
^ 'n j now be requested
J _!_| .
her "matronly
cheek, while a
loud splashing in
the adjoining apartment announced that the Yenerable Archbeacon himself was
at that part of his daily morning service which would he best described as his
Absolutions.
“It’s all your stupid fault, Archbeacon!” said his amiable spouse, con-
tinuing a conversation on which her husband’s slushing had thrown a sudden
damper.
“ God Save Our Gra-ei-ous Queen! ” gasped out the clear voice of the Arch-
beacon, half shrieking half singing in his bath, as though he were suffering a
martyrdom for his loyalty; and then he appeared at the door in a bathing
wrapper, like a wet ghost, while he attacked his head with a rough towel.
“ Did you hear ? ” asked Mrs. Overwayte, sharply.
“I did, my dear,” replied the Archbeacon, “but I was just sponging
myself-”
“ Oh, it’s all very well, Archbeacon,” said the lady, interrupting him impa-
tiently. ‘ ‘ While you are sponging yourself and not attending to me, you ’ll
have my father and my sister Morleena, with nothing to live upon, coming
to sponge Upon us. With our family, we can’t stand that.”
“But my dearest ticksywicksy-” began the Archbeacon, smiling at her
fondly from behind his towel.
“ Don’t ticksywicksy me, Archbeacon,” retorted his spouse, “hut just attend.
If you let them, come sponging here, I shall throw cold water on the proposition
at once, and so I tell you beforehand.”
“My own sweetest loveydovey——” commenced her husband, beginning to
shiver, now that the effect of the first friction had gone off.
“Hold your stupid tongue,” said the lady, giving him a rap on the head
with her bunch of household keys, which made the Archbeacon dance again.
“ Hold your stupid tongue, or I ’U warm you! ”
The Archbeacon paused, knowing that, if she kept
her word, the process would be too violent for his consti-
tution.
Mrs. Overwayte continued:
“If you hadn’t advised Morleena against hooking
John Bounce, and if you hadn’t been donkey enough
to give my father the Percentorship, instead of keeping
it yourself, you old Noddy,” —here she repeated her
former movement with one key only, which made the
Archbeacon sing out in another—“ nothing of this sort
would have happened. But now there’s only one thing
for it.”
“What? my own petsy,” inquired the Archheacon,
submissively, but dodging away skilfully, in order to
avoid a quick con spirito et fortissimo movement, set in
all the keys at once, which threatened his uncovered and
naturally unprotected head.
“ Why, Noodle, don’t you see?” was the lady’s ener
getic rejoinder. “Go to law, fight this John Bounce
Get Morleena to humbug him into dropping the whole
business. My sister’s sharp enough.”
“It runs in your family, my darling,” murmured
Dr. Overwayte, jumping out of the reach of the keys
immediately after having uttered this remark, and hiding
himself within the showerbath curtains.
“I’m sharp enough for you, my man,” retorted the
lady, following him up, and pulling the string of the
hath, which brought down a deluge on his head, and,
when he had recovered from the shock, made him scream
to be let out.
“I’ll let out at you,” she went on, “if you don’t
attend to me. Morleena will adopt my advice. Bounce
will be fooled; he will have.to give up his persecution,
pay his own costs, and be kicked out of Small-Beerjester.
Then Morleena will drop him, and we ’ll get somebody
else for her, with money, and-
“Yes,” interrupted her husband, looking out for a
second, “ and I ’ll see the Bishop-” But he drew in
his head again as quickly as possible.
“See the Bishop, indeed! ” exclaimed his wife, in a
tone of deep disgust. “You might Bishop the See your-
self, if you had half a head on your shoulders. Just
notice your own stupid self in a looking-glass! No, the
Bishop’s nobody. I ’ll square Mrs. Dowdie, get the
Governor placed in a thorough good sinecure—little to do
and plenty to get—where he won’t be in our way-”
“ Hear, hear! ” said the Archheacon, from within his
bath.
“ And all you’ve got to do, instead of playing at being
a hippopotamus up in your dressing-room, and sponging
and gasping and sluicing and hopping about like a
lunatic,—all you’ve got to do is to go up to Town, and
put the whole case in the hands of Sir Isaac Allbheeze,
the Attorney-General, prosecute the Penny Prometheus,
make ’em give up John Bounce, and have him trans-
ported at the next Assizes. You ’ll do this, Arch-
beacon ? ”
“I promise and vow! ” he shouted, earnestly. “ And
now, if you’ll allow me to come out-”
“ Oh yes,” she replied; “ and, when you do come out,
mind you come out strong.”
And so the excellent lady descended to family worship,
where, among her children and servants, and in the
absence of the Archheacon, who only occasionally con-
ducted the service officially in the Cathedral or his own
Church,—though this was just about as much as his wife
could permit without interruption,—she read the morning
devotions, which consisted chiefly of verses and responses
compiled out of the hardest names to he found in the
Old Testament, with some extracts from the Commina-
tion Service, and a modern hymn, of five verses of five
lines each, three of which rhymed, and the two others
didn’t, fitted to an amateur Gregorian Chaunt limited
strictly to three notes.
The Oyerwaytes were a blessed, happy, thriving
family, and, from the Archbeacon’s appearance in the
breakfast-room, with erect head, clear, unruffled brow,
determined air, and powerful step, as I have already
described him to my readers, no one would ever for a
second imagine that such scenes as the one of which my
readers and myself, concealed somewhere in the bed-
room,—a secret entirely between ourselves and the bed-
post,—have been the silent witnesses, were of constant
recurrence during the tranquil night and the peaceful,
morning, in the comfortable Archbeaconry of Small-
Beerjester.