DOI Heft:
August 14, 1880
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17764#0077
August 14, 1880.]
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
60
THE BEADLE!
OR,
THE LATEST CHRONICLE OF SMALL-BEERJESTEB.
BY
ANTHONY DOLLOP.
Author of “ The Chronicles of Barsellshire,” “ Beerfester Brewers,” “ The Half-way House at
Aleinton,” “ Thor ley Farm for Cattle,” ‘ ‘ Family Parsonage,” “The Frying Minister, ”
“ Pearls before Swine; or. Who Used his Diamonds?” “ Bub the Hair,” “ The Way
We Dye How,” “ Fishy Fin,” “ Fishy as Wildux,” “Z)r. Thorne and David James,'”
“Star and Garter, Richmond,” “Rachel Hooray!” “The Jellies of Jelly,” “The
Bertrams and Roberts,” “Lady Pye-Anna,” “Tails of All Creatures,” “’Arry
’ Otspur,” “Mary Greasily,” “ Vicar of Pullbaker,” “McDermott of Balladsing erun,”
“ Can't You Forget Her ? ” “ He Knew He Could Write,” fyc., fyc.
CHAPTER XI.
Returning Consciousness.
r. Mattix put his hand
to his head. His hair
was still curled
tightly. What was
this sudden change F
Where was he ? In a
show at a booth. If
ever in his life he had
been on the verge of
proposing to a woman
it had been within the
last five minutes ?
Another second and
he would have popped
the momentous ques-
tion. Was he a canon
or a pop-gun? He
\JHii |||f( was sane and safe.
Where was his horse ?
The sound of ap-
plause greeted his
ears, ana above the
din arose the measure
of a tune he had heard
in his earliest infancy
as associated with a
circus. It was “ The
Bronze Horse.”
Faster and faster it
was played; urged by
the tune, he rushed
from the door, and
crossing a passage
came in sharp contact
with another door,
through a hole in which he saw La Signora cantering round the circus on his own cob, as
she bowed with inimitable grace right and left to the spectators. Ah! what would he not
have given to have ridden with her on the same cob, and an old-fashioned pillion!
And here the author must beg it to he remembered that Mr. Mattix was not in aU
things a had man. His motives, like his grog at night, were mixed , and though his con-
duct is generally such as I am compeUed for the sake of my most respectable readers to
blame severely, yet, I assure you, I cannot prevent him from succumbing to these impulses
which, if nice for the time being, are undoubtedly naughty, though I am willing to admit
that it would have been difficult to impress Mr. Mattix with the moral truths contained
in one of his own sermons, could it have been read aloud to him on this particular occasion.
Mr. Mattix had never been an immoral man, and therefore might have a good deal of
amusement yet in store for him, as in early life he had devoted himself so entirely to study
as to have had neither eyes nor thoughts for anything hut the strictest mathematical defi-
nitions and the very plainest axioms. It must, therefore, he conceived by my readers, who
would not for one moment tolerate the slightest suspicion of immorality in any of my works
any more than I should myself, that Mr. Mattix in all this was firmly convinced that, in
making love to two Ladies at once, he was acting from the very highest motives, and that
if he had ultimately married one for her money, and gone off with another for love, he
would still have pacified his conscience by the reflection that no harm can be done where
none is intended, that least said is soonest mended, and that the happiness of the greatest
number is the object of the individual.
He saw no immorality in having two belles to his one beau, and as he rode hack to Small-
Beerjester on the cob which Mr. Merryman had brought out with La Signora’s compliments
and thanks, he hummed to himself “ Hoiv happy coidd I be with either,” and began
to debate whether such an Italian Marchesa with the family diamonds was not worth two
Morleenas, even with the highest clerical preferment in view. So he returned to Small-
Beerjester, and informed Mrs. Dowdie of the arrangement he had made to surprise all
Small-Beerjester at her first garden-party, which, “for your sake, my dear Lady,” said
Mr. Mattix warmly, “ I hope to see the biggest possible success.”
Mr. Mattix, I must admit, was not exactly honest in this utterance, hut after all, he was
placed in a difficult position, ?nd if he had said too much about La Signcya, would not my
readers have been deprived of the stirring
recitation of the scene which they are al-
ready enjoying by anticipation, and which
they may safely expect, for I am not one to
raise false hopes and fears, and then baffle
aspirations—in the next Chapter.
How grievous a thing for Miss Kitty
Clover it is to have all her interest in a
Novel suddenly destroyed by Miss Paulina
Pry, who, having peeped into the third
volume and read the last chapter, is able
triumphantly to inform her weeping friend
that she need not shed tears over the death
of the heroine in the middle of Volume
Two, as she comes to life again as right as
ninepence, and marries Sir Frederick Phinis,
at the very end of the book. No, my sweet
Kitty Clover, although you do bother me
so, oh—oh, oh, oh! and da capo—dh., oh,
oh !—your interest in my novel shaR not be
destroyed by any Paulina Pry, 1 promise
you, for there is no last volume to peep into,
and the finishing chapter of this work shall
be as deep a secret from you as were the
contents of the Blue Chamber to Madame
Fatima, until her husband gave her the key
and she let the Catastrophe out of the bag.
But your own favourite novelist is no Turk
of a Blue Beard, and as he doesn’t wish his
dear Miss Kitty Clover to lose her head,
he will not trust her with the key, and
when he does open the Blue Chamber Chap-
ter at the end, you may depend upon it you
shall not be shocked at the revelation, and
shall only see—what you shall see ; that and
nothing more, or what would my Lady
Patronesses, my dear Spinsters of over forty,
my dear Matrons and Materfamiliases say
to me, were I to show you inside this Blue
Chamber, a row of yellow-covered foreign-
looking books labelled Zola, Daudet, Mon-
tepin, Boisgobert, and one or two other
names that I could mention, did I wish to
be flouted out of all honest British house-
holds and be excommunicated by Mums
& Co. ?
No, no, my dear Miss Pry, no, no, my
sweet Miss Clover, and no, no, no, excellent
Mrs. Goodytwoshoes, you may try and
make friends with the worthy publisher of
this periodical, and do your best to induce
him to let you into the secrets of the last
chapter, but even he will be unable to
gratify your curiosity, and we will go hand
in hand in full and perfect confidence,
author and reader, right up to the finale of
this troubled story.
So, my dear Ladies, on we goes to China,
or rather on we go to the Episcopal Palace
of Small-Beerjester, where, as you are al-
ready numbered among our Mrs. Dowdie’s
intimate friends, you will be admitted—you
and I together in our Sunday best—and
trust me to take you into the refreshment
room, to point you out what is going on at
different times between La Signora and Mr.
Mattix in one corner, or La Signora La
Marchesa di Zazzeglia and the Bishop in
another, and how Morleena has her eye
on Mr. Arable, who has just arrived, and
how Mr. Arable has his eyes on Miss Mor-
leena, and how the latter’s sister Neya-
leena is observant of everything and
everybody including the Archheacon, who,
with his father-in-law, the worthy Mr.
Simpler, is discussing the prospects of the
Mastership of Deedler’s, and the chances
of Sir Isaac Allpheeze having his biU of
costs discharged in full within the time of
the present Bishop’s reign over the See of
Small-Beerjester.
You see we shall have enough to do to-
gether without peeping into Volume the
Third, but by merely passing Mrs. Dowdie’s
footmen and cutting the pages, we shall go
in for the next Chapter.
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
60
THE BEADLE!
OR,
THE LATEST CHRONICLE OF SMALL-BEERJESTEB.
BY
ANTHONY DOLLOP.
Author of “ The Chronicles of Barsellshire,” “ Beerfester Brewers,” “ The Half-way House at
Aleinton,” “ Thor ley Farm for Cattle,” ‘ ‘ Family Parsonage,” “The Frying Minister, ”
“ Pearls before Swine; or. Who Used his Diamonds?” “ Bub the Hair,” “ The Way
We Dye How,” “ Fishy Fin,” “ Fishy as Wildux,” “Z)r. Thorne and David James,'”
“Star and Garter, Richmond,” “Rachel Hooray!” “The Jellies of Jelly,” “The
Bertrams and Roberts,” “Lady Pye-Anna,” “Tails of All Creatures,” “’Arry
’ Otspur,” “Mary Greasily,” “ Vicar of Pullbaker,” “McDermott of Balladsing erun,”
“ Can't You Forget Her ? ” “ He Knew He Could Write,” fyc., fyc.
CHAPTER XI.
Returning Consciousness.
r. Mattix put his hand
to his head. His hair
was still curled
tightly. What was
this sudden change F
Where was he ? In a
show at a booth. If
ever in his life he had
been on the verge of
proposing to a woman
it had been within the
last five minutes ?
Another second and
he would have popped
the momentous ques-
tion. Was he a canon
or a pop-gun? He
\JHii |||f( was sane and safe.
Where was his horse ?
The sound of ap-
plause greeted his
ears, ana above the
din arose the measure
of a tune he had heard
in his earliest infancy
as associated with a
circus. It was “ The
Bronze Horse.”
Faster and faster it
was played; urged by
the tune, he rushed
from the door, and
crossing a passage
came in sharp contact
with another door,
through a hole in which he saw La Signora cantering round the circus on his own cob, as
she bowed with inimitable grace right and left to the spectators. Ah! what would he not
have given to have ridden with her on the same cob, and an old-fashioned pillion!
And here the author must beg it to he remembered that Mr. Mattix was not in aU
things a had man. His motives, like his grog at night, were mixed , and though his con-
duct is generally such as I am compeUed for the sake of my most respectable readers to
blame severely, yet, I assure you, I cannot prevent him from succumbing to these impulses
which, if nice for the time being, are undoubtedly naughty, though I am willing to admit
that it would have been difficult to impress Mr. Mattix with the moral truths contained
in one of his own sermons, could it have been read aloud to him on this particular occasion.
Mr. Mattix had never been an immoral man, and therefore might have a good deal of
amusement yet in store for him, as in early life he had devoted himself so entirely to study
as to have had neither eyes nor thoughts for anything hut the strictest mathematical defi-
nitions and the very plainest axioms. It must, therefore, he conceived by my readers, who
would not for one moment tolerate the slightest suspicion of immorality in any of my works
any more than I should myself, that Mr. Mattix in all this was firmly convinced that, in
making love to two Ladies at once, he was acting from the very highest motives, and that
if he had ultimately married one for her money, and gone off with another for love, he
would still have pacified his conscience by the reflection that no harm can be done where
none is intended, that least said is soonest mended, and that the happiness of the greatest
number is the object of the individual.
He saw no immorality in having two belles to his one beau, and as he rode hack to Small-
Beerjester on the cob which Mr. Merryman had brought out with La Signora’s compliments
and thanks, he hummed to himself “ Hoiv happy coidd I be with either,” and began
to debate whether such an Italian Marchesa with the family diamonds was not worth two
Morleenas, even with the highest clerical preferment in view. So he returned to Small-
Beerjester, and informed Mrs. Dowdie of the arrangement he had made to surprise all
Small-Beerjester at her first garden-party, which, “for your sake, my dear Lady,” said
Mr. Mattix warmly, “ I hope to see the biggest possible success.”
Mr. Mattix, I must admit, was not exactly honest in this utterance, hut after all, he was
placed in a difficult position, ?nd if he had said too much about La Signcya, would not my
readers have been deprived of the stirring
recitation of the scene which they are al-
ready enjoying by anticipation, and which
they may safely expect, for I am not one to
raise false hopes and fears, and then baffle
aspirations—in the next Chapter.
How grievous a thing for Miss Kitty
Clover it is to have all her interest in a
Novel suddenly destroyed by Miss Paulina
Pry, who, having peeped into the third
volume and read the last chapter, is able
triumphantly to inform her weeping friend
that she need not shed tears over the death
of the heroine in the middle of Volume
Two, as she comes to life again as right as
ninepence, and marries Sir Frederick Phinis,
at the very end of the book. No, my sweet
Kitty Clover, although you do bother me
so, oh—oh, oh, oh! and da capo—dh., oh,
oh !—your interest in my novel shaR not be
destroyed by any Paulina Pry, 1 promise
you, for there is no last volume to peep into,
and the finishing chapter of this work shall
be as deep a secret from you as were the
contents of the Blue Chamber to Madame
Fatima, until her husband gave her the key
and she let the Catastrophe out of the bag.
But your own favourite novelist is no Turk
of a Blue Beard, and as he doesn’t wish his
dear Miss Kitty Clover to lose her head,
he will not trust her with the key, and
when he does open the Blue Chamber Chap-
ter at the end, you may depend upon it you
shall not be shocked at the revelation, and
shall only see—what you shall see ; that and
nothing more, or what would my Lady
Patronesses, my dear Spinsters of over forty,
my dear Matrons and Materfamiliases say
to me, were I to show you inside this Blue
Chamber, a row of yellow-covered foreign-
looking books labelled Zola, Daudet, Mon-
tepin, Boisgobert, and one or two other
names that I could mention, did I wish to
be flouted out of all honest British house-
holds and be excommunicated by Mums
& Co. ?
No, no, my dear Miss Pry, no, no, my
sweet Miss Clover, and no, no, no, excellent
Mrs. Goodytwoshoes, you may try and
make friends with the worthy publisher of
this periodical, and do your best to induce
him to let you into the secrets of the last
chapter, but even he will be unable to
gratify your curiosity, and we will go hand
in hand in full and perfect confidence,
author and reader, right up to the finale of
this troubled story.
So, my dear Ladies, on we goes to China,
or rather on we go to the Episcopal Palace
of Small-Beerjester, where, as you are al-
ready numbered among our Mrs. Dowdie’s
intimate friends, you will be admitted—you
and I together in our Sunday best—and
trust me to take you into the refreshment
room, to point you out what is going on at
different times between La Signora and Mr.
Mattix in one corner, or La Signora La
Marchesa di Zazzeglia and the Bishop in
another, and how Morleena has her eye
on Mr. Arable, who has just arrived, and
how Mr. Arable has his eyes on Miss Mor-
leena, and how the latter’s sister Neya-
leena is observant of everything and
everybody including the Archheacon, who,
with his father-in-law, the worthy Mr.
Simpler, is discussing the prospects of the
Mastership of Deedler’s, and the chances
of Sir Isaac Allpheeze having his biU of
costs discharged in full within the time of
the present Bishop’s reign over the See of
Small-Beerjester.
You see we shall have enough to do to-
gether without peeping into Volume the
Third, but by merely passing Mrs. Dowdie’s
footmen and cutting the pages, we shall go
in for the next Chapter.