Punch (100.1891)

G4

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

[February 7, 1891,

BRUSTLES' BISHOP.

{By a Muddled Moralist.)
Chapter I.

Ben Brustles was only a poor shoeblack-boy who cleaned boots-
ay, and even shoes, for his daily bread. Saoh time as he could
spare from his avocation he devoted to diligent study of the doctrine
of chance, as exemplified in the praotioe of pitch-and-toss. Often
and often, after pitching and toss-
ing in the oold wet streets for long
weary hours, he would return
home without a halfpenny. Think
of this, ye more fortunate youths,
who sit at home at ease, and play
Loto for nuts! But through all
his vicissitudes, Ben kept a stout
heart, never losing his convic-
tion that something—he knew not
what—would eventually turn up.
Sometimes it was heads, at others
tails ; and in either case the poor
boy lost money by it — but he

Brustles BlackiDg.

persevered notwithstanding, confident that Fortune would favour
him at last. It is this spirit of undaunted enterprise that has made
our England what it is !

And one day Fortune did favour him. He observed, as he knelt
before his box, a portly and venerable person close by, who was
engrossed in studying, with apparent complacency, his own reflection
in a plate-glass shop-front. So naive a display of personal vanity,
in one whose dress and demeanour denoted him a Bishop, not
unnaturally excited Benjamin's interest, nor was this lessened when
the stranger, after shaking his head reproachfully at his reflected
image, advanced to the shoe-black's box as if in obedience to a
sudden impulse.

" My lad," he said, with a certain calm dignity, " will you be so
good as to black both my legs for me—at once ? "

This unusual request, conceived as it was on a larger scale than
the orders he habitually received, startled the youth, particularly
as he noted that the symmetrical and well-turned limb which the
Bishop extended consisted, like its fellow, of a rare and costly
species of mahogany, and shone with the rich and glossy hue of a
newly-fallen horse-chestnut, "I see," commented the Bishop, with
a melancholy smile, "that you have already discovered that my
lower members are the product—not of Nature, but of Art. It was
not always thus with me—but in my younger days I was an ardent
climber—indeed, I am still an Honorary Member of the Hampstead
Heath Alpine Club. Many years since, whilst scaling Primrose
Hill, I was compelled, by a sudden storm, to take refuge in a half-
way hut, where I passed the night, exposed to all the rigours of an
English Midsummer I When I awoke I found, to my surprise, that
both my legs had been bitten by the relentless frost short off im-
mediately below the knee, and I had to continue the ascent next
day in a basket. On descending, I caused these substitutes to be
fashioned, and on them I stumped my way to the exalted position I
now fill, nor have I ever evinced any physical inconveniences from
my misfortune, save in one particular—that it has rendered
the assumption of gaiters unhappily out of the question! But,
possibly, my wish to have these legs of mine disguised by your pig-
ments, strikes you as bizarre, if not positively eccentric ? You will
better understand my reasons after you have heard a confession
which, though necessary, is, believe me, painful to make." And the
good old man, after a short internal struggle, began the following
narrative, which we reserve for a succeeding chapter.

Chapter II,

" Even as a Curate, a certain harmless vanity was ever my besetting
weakness. I might, indeed, have hoped that, after my accident—
but see, my good lad, how pride may lurk, even in our very infirmi-
ties ! These artificial limbs have become a yet subtler snare to me
than even those they replaced. I had them constructed, as you see, of
the best mahogany—to match the furniture in my dining-room.
With ever-increasing pleasure, my eyes have gloried in their grain
and gloss, in the symmetry of their curves, in the more than Chinese
delioacy of their extremities, until gradually they have trampled
upon my better self, they have run away with all my possibilities of
moral usefulness ! Yes, but this very moment, as I stood admiring
their contour at yonder window, the pernicious thought crossed my
mind that their appearance would be yet more enhanced if I had
them gilded ! "

" But, your reverent Lordship," objected Brustles, as the Bishop
paused, overcome by humiliation, "it's no use coming to me for
that 'ere job ! " For, though but a poor boy, he was too honest to
accept any commission under false pretences. Gilding, he knew,
might—and, in a London atmosphere, soon would—become black,
but no boot-polish would ever assume the appearance, even of the
blackest gilt, and so he candidly explained to the Bishop.

"I know, my boy," said the latter, patting: Ben's head kindly
with the handle of his umbrella, " I know. Hence my application
to your skill. That presumptuous idea revealed as in a lightning
flash the abyss on the brink of which I stood. This demon of
perverse pride must be laid; humbled for ever. So ply your brushes,
and see you spare not the blacking ! "

Chapter III.

Beustles obeyed—not without awe, and in a short space of time
two pots of blacking were exhausted, and the roseate glow of the
Bishop's mahogany limbs was for ever hidden under a layer of more
than Nubian ebony!

" 'Selp me, your lordly reverence," he cried, dazzled by the
brilliancy of the result; "but you might be took, below, for a
Lifeguardsman! "

"Hush," said the Bishop, though with a gratification he could
not restrain, "would you recall the demon I strove to exorcise!
It is true that the change is less of a disfigurement than I feared—
ahem, hoped—but after all, may not the wish to please the eye of
man be excusable ? You shall receive a rich reward. Do you
happen to have such a thing as change for a five-pound note about
you ? "

" Alas!" replied the lad, with ready presence of mind, "but I
have only just paid all my gold into my bank for the day! "

"No matter," said the Bishop, gently. "I find I have a three-
penny bit, after all. It is yours!" And the good ecclesiastic, as
if to avoid thanks, moved nimbly off, though his eyes still sought
the shop-windows as he passed, with even greater complacency than
before.

Ben tested the threepenny bit between his teeth—it was a spurious

coin; he looked up, but his
late customer was already
passed out of hearing of his
sentiments. He sank down

Bilked by a Bishop.

with his head laid amongst his pots and.brushes. "Bilked ! " he
moaned piteously, " bilked—and by a blooming Bishop ! "

Chapter IY.

But mark the sequel. The good Bishop had been quite ignorant
that the threepenny bit was a pewter one; quite sincere, for the
time, in his determination to subdue his own weakness. Still it
was not to be: inbred pride is not so easily vanquished—even by
Bishops! The Bishop learned to glory in his blacking far more than
he had ever done in the original mahogany. He had it continually
renewed, and with the most expensive compositions. He would
bend enraptured over the burnished surfaces of his extended legs,
gazing, like another Narcissus, at the features he saw so faithfully
repeated.

Meanwhile the threepence, base as it was, became the humble
instrument of brighter fortunes to Brustles ; it showed a marvellous