Punch: Punch (91.1886)

300 PUNCH, OE THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [December 18, 1886.

STUDIES FROM MR. PUNCH'S STUDIO.

No. VIII.—Me. Jeeemiah Jobson, Stock Beoeee.

Me. Jeeemiah Jobson was
one of the most highly re-
spected memhers of that won-
drous institution, the London
Stock Exchange. His character
was as spotless as his linen, and
his hahits as regular as his
chronometer. He h ad never heen
ahsent from his office one whole
day for twenty years past, ex-
cept during the month of August,
which month he invariably de-
dicated to rest and relaxation
in the pure and bracing air of
Margate.

He always went to town by
the same omnibus, abhorring
Underground Railways, and, of
course, always inside. He had
on one memorable occasion,
when the omnibus was filled
with young ladies from a neigh-
bouring Academy, been per-
suaded by a friend to ride out-
side, and, it being a fine warm
morning, had conf essed that he
found it very pleasant; but, he
added, the awful thought that
he might be seen by some of his
mostimportant clients, seatedon
that "bad eminence," or even
climbing up, or struggling" down, its narrow stairs, filled him with such
alarm, that nothing could ever induce him to repeat the experiment.

Mr. Jobson resided in the romantic Suburb of Peckham, was
married, but childless, and was very popular with his own particular set,
and thoroughly trusted by his numerous connection. He used to tell
very amusing anecdotes, and was known on several occasions, when
certain of his clients were, as he thought, going somewhat beyond the
bounds of prudence, to warn them against the possible consequences,
and with such delicacy and good humour, as made them readily
excuse his interference, and even at times take his kindly warning.

Mr. Jobson was naturally of a very hospitable disposition, and his
cosy_ little dinner-parties were highly appreciated by his own
particular set. There was one pleasant form but seldom absent from
those enjoyable evenings, whose genial nature and fund of anecdote
and knowledge of men and things made him a welcome guest every-
where, but who was always received with especial cordiality by the
somewhat precise Stock Broker and his prim little wife, and by all
their City friends.

There was something so fresh, so hearty, so unconventional, and so
intensely amusing about Tom Robinson's conversation, when seated
at a well-appointed table, with an appreciative audience, so different
altogether from the ordinary talk concerning Stocks and Shares of the
City Brokers, that they all with one accord voted him the prince of
good fellows, and went their way laughing at his last good joke; and
sometimes, it must be confessed, wondering how it came to pass that
old Jobson could have made the acquaintance of so brilliant and
handsome a swell, but of course their natural good-breeding,—for
Stock Brokers are, as a rule, very well-bred men, or they would not
inspire the confidence they do,—forbad them ever making any
allusion to so delicate a subject.

The remark has often been made, but remains as true as when first
uttered, that we all have a touch of romance somewhere in our
various natures. Even Stock Brokers are no exceptions to the rule.
"What are thought to be exceptions are those cases where the feeling
has had no opportunity of developing itself, but it is there though it
lies dormant, and is easily awakened. To look at Jeeemiah Jobson,
Stock Broker, of Drapers' Court, when taking instructions from
some respected client for the sale or investment of certain Stocks or
Shares, the whole of his little soul absorbed apparently in the profit-
able occupation in which he was engaged, who would have thought
that there had been a time when " to his eye there was but one be-
loved face on earth, and that was shining on him " ! But it was
true, nevertheless, and terribly he paid, poor fellow! for mistaking
for love what was really only very affectionate respect. She was ten
years his junior exceedingly beautiful, graceful as Kate Yaughan,
and the idol of her father. She declined his honest offer with true
womanly delicacy, and shortly afterwards married a brilliant adven-
turer. Poor Jobson bore his disappointment like the gentleman he
was. He was not a French scholar, but he acted in full accord with
the fine old French maxim :—

" Le bruit est pour le fat, L'honnete homme trompe

La plainte est pour le sot; j S'eloigne et ne dit mot."

So he kept watch, as it were, over her future, and when she
died, less than two years after her marriage, he hovered round her
grave till her friends had left, and then dropped a few flowers therein
somewhat moistened with his manly tears.

She left a son, who, on his father's death, inherited but little
except his mother's winning, fascinating ways, and his father's hand-
some person. It was therefore not at all surprising that young Robin-
son, when he grew to man's estate, should be a welcome guest at the
Stock Broker's little villa, or that when he was occasionally " pretty
well stumped," as he termed it, he knew_ exactly where to go for a
little temporary assistance, which said assistance was always readily
forthcoming, and seldom of the temporary character he possibly
anticipated. In fact, the influence of the handsome, dashing "West-
Ender, whose presence always brought back to his host the memory
of those blissful days when he revelled in the thought that his love
was returned, was gradually becoming greater and greater, and even
threatened to become dangerous.

Business matters, too, did not prosper so well as formerly with the
good-natured Mr. Jobson. But there was always seen the old glow of
delight when Tom Robinson's bright presence lighted up the little
room, and banished, atanyrate fora time, all thoughts of business cares
or troubles. Tom was one of those jovial and genial natures that
was sure to ingratiate itself into the very soul of a man like Jobson.
He was always radiant with present enjoyment and future expecta-
tion, and all gloomy or doubtful thoughts faded away before his gay
laugh and his teeming fancy, like fog before the autumn sun. He
had lately, he told them one night, got into quite a new set—regular
swells, who knew how to enjoy life as life was intended to be
enjoyed, and who had welcomed him among them for his dear
father's sake. One of them was considered to be about the keenest
man of business about Town, and he had got an idea into his fertile
brain that was some day to astonish the financial world with its
novelty and success. Of course his hearers shook their grave heads
at his glowing picture, and warned him against all such baseless
bubbles ; but Tom laughingly replied that, as he had nothing to lose,
he did not think there was very much fear of his losing it.

Matters went on much as usual for a few months longer, until one
fine morning, for the first time in his life, Tom Robinson found him-
self in Mr. Jobson's office in Drapers' Court, accompanied by the
keen man of business of whom ho had spoken in such glowing colours
a short time previously. He was a remarkably mild gentlemanly
man, with a truly noble forehead, and a bright keen eye, faultlessly
dressed, and with the whitest and most delicately shaped hands ever
possessed by one of his sex. The usual introductions having taken
place, it was suggested by the visitor that Tom should amuse himself
out of doors for the next half hour, and then return and hear the
result of their deliberations. This he accordingly did, and was
informed on his return, that the discussion between his two friends had
been of the most satisfactory character, and that all the necessary
arrangements had been made for commencing at pnce.

In about a week's time a prospectus appeared in all the principal
London journals, that literally took the public by storm. Such a
list of Directors had seldom been seen attached to a similar document,
Tom Robinson and his friend were of course among them, and the
name of Mr. Jeremiah Jobson appeared as the Broker to the
Company. The rush for shares was tremendous, and they were quoted
at a considerable premium long before allotment. Tom Robinson
was radiant with delight at his brilliant prospects, and indulged in
his new-born love for speculation to his heart's content.

* *. . * * * *

It is perhaps scarcely necessary to add_ that all these bright
anticipations were doomed to fade away, as is the case in so many
similar cases, and that the shares that had been sought so eagerly,
were found to be worthless.

The anxieties and humiliations endured by poor Mr. Jobson during
this trying period may be easily imagined, and they reached their
climax when he received a letter to the following effect:—

" Mr dear kind Friend — I am so heartily sick of London since
our last misfortune, that I have readily accepted the offer of a post
in India, and shall have started ere this reaches you. I cannot suffi-
ciently express my gratitude for all your kindness. I fear that I
have availed myself of your land permission to draw upon you for a
moderate sum, to a larger extent than you had intended, but I
assure you it was quite unavoidable. I enclose particulars, and am
yours most affectionately, T. Robinson."

There was a terrible struggle betwixt contending feelings in poor
Jobson's curious nature, but the old sentiment conquered, and ho
paid all, leaving himself almost a beggar.

He may still be seen occasionally wending his way through Throg-
morton Street, more from habit than for any business purpose, and
room is made for him with much kindly respect.

The moral drawn from his sad case by one of his old Peckham
cronies is, that Stock Brokers have nothing to do with Romance, or
Horse Dealers with Truth; and if they ever do indulge in those
luxuries, they are pretty certain to come to grief.

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