The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Sketches of Seymour (Illustrated), Part 3., by Robert Seymour This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: The Sketches of Seymour (Illustrated), Part 3. Author: Robert Seymour Release Date: July 12, 2004 [EBook #5647] Language: English Character set encoding: UTF-8 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SKETCHES OF SEYMOUR *** Produced by David Widger
EBOOK EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION:
"Sketches by Seymour" was published in various versions about 1836. The copy used for this PG edition has no date and was published by Thomas Fry, London. Some of the 90 plates note only Seymour's name, many are inscribed "Engravings by H. Wallis from sketches by Seymour." The printed book appears to be a compilation of five smaller volumes. From the confused chapter titles the reader may well suspect the printer mixed up the order of the chapters. The complete book in this digital edition is split into five smaller volumes—the individual volumes are of more manageable size than the 7mb complete version.
The importance of this collection is in the engravings. The text is often mundane, is full of conundrums and puns popular in the early 1800's—and is mercifully short. No author is given credit for the text though the section titled, "The Autobiography of Andrew Mullins" may give us at least his pen-name.
DW
| PLATE I. | THE JOLLY ANGLERS. |
| PLATE II. | THE BILL-STICKER. |
| PLATE III. | OLD FOOZLE. |
| PLATE IV. | THE "CRACK-SHOTS." No. I. |
| PLATE V. | THE "CRACK-SHOTS." No. II. |
| PLATE VI. | THE "CRACK-SHOTS." No. III. |
| PLATE VII. | DOCTOR SPRAGGS. |
| PLATE VIII. | [SCENE IX.(b)] Well, Bill, d'ye get any bites? |
| PLATE IX. | THE POUTER AND THE DRAGON. |
| PLATE X. | THE PIC-NIC. No. I. |
| PLATE XI. | THE PIC-NIC. No. II. |
| PLATE XII. | THE BUMPKIN. |
On a grassy bank, beside a meandering stream, sat two gentlemen averaging forty years of age. The day was sultry, and, weary of casting their lines without effect, they had stuck their rods in the bank, and sought, in a well-filled basket of provisions and copious libations of bottled porter, to dissipate their disappointment.
"Ain't this jolly? and don't you like a day's fishing, Sam?"
"O! werry much, werry much," emphatically replied his friend, taking his pipe from his mouth.
"Ah! but some people don't know how to go a-fishinq, Sam; they are such fools."
"That's a werry good remark o' your'n," observed Sam; "I daresay as how hangling is werry delightful vhen the fishes vill bite; but vhen they von't, vhy they von't, and vot's the use o' complaining. Hangling is just like writing: for instance—you begins vith, 'I sends you this 'ere line hoping,' and they don't nibble; vell! that's just the same as not hanswering; and, as I takes it, there the correspondence ends!"
"Exactly; I'm quite o' your opinion," replied his companion, tossing off a bumper of Barclay's best; "I say, Sammy, we mustn't empty t'other bottle tho'."
"Vhy not?"
"Cos, do you see, I'm just thinking ve shall vant a little porter to carry us home: for, by Jingo! I don't think as how either of us can toddle—that is respectably!"
"Nonsense! I'd hundertake to walk as straight as a harrow; on'y, I must confess, I should like to have a snooze a'ter my pipe; I'm used to it, d'ye see, and look for it as nat'rally as a babby does."
"Vell, but take t'other glass for a nightcap; for you know, Sammy, if you sleep vithout, you may catch cold: and, vhatever you do, don't snore, or you'll frighten the fish."
"Naughty fish!" replied Sammy, "they know they're naughty too, or else they voud'nt be so afear'd o' the rod!—here's your health;" and he tossed off the proffered bumper.
"Excuse me a-rising to return thanks," replied his friend, grasping Sammy's hand, and looking at him with that fixed and glassy gaze which indicates the happy state of inebriety, termed maudlin; "I know you're a sincere friend, and there ain't nobody as I value more: man and boy have I knowed you; you're unchanged! you're the same!! there ain't no difference!!! and I hope you may live many years to go a-fishing, and I may live to see it, Sammy. Yes, old boy, this here's one of them days that won't be forgotten: it's engraved on my memory deep as the words on a tombstone, 'Here he lies! Here he lies!'" he repeated with a hiccup, and rolled at full length across his dear friend.
Sammy, nearly as much overcome as his friend, lifted up his head, and sticking his hat upon it, knocked it over his eyes, and left him to repose; and, placing his own back against an accommodating tree, he dropped his pipe, and then followed the example of his companion.
After a few hours deep slumber, they awoke. The sun had gone down, and evening had already drawn her star-bespangled mantle over the scene of their festive sport.
Arousing themselves, they sought for their rods, and the remnants of their provisions, but they were all gone.
"My hey! Sammy, if somebody bas'nt taken advantage of us. My watch too has gone, I declare."
"And so's mine!" exclaimed Sammy, feeling his empty fob. "Vell, if this ain't a go, never trust me."
"I tell you vot it is, Sammy; some clever hartist or another has seen us sleeping, like the babes in the wood, and has drawn us at full length!"
What a mysterious being is the bill-sticker! How seldom does he make himself visible to the eyes of the people. Nay, I verily believe there are thousands in this great metropolis that never saw a specimen. We see the effect, but think not of the cause.
He must work at his vocation either at night or at early dawn, before the world is stirring.
That he is an industrious being, and sticks to business, there cannot be the shadow of a doubt, for every dead-wall is made lively by his operations, and every hoard a fund of information—in such type, too, that he who runs may read. What an indefatigable observer he must be; for there is scarcely a brick or board in city or suburb, however newly erected, in highway or byeway, but is speedily adorned by his handiwork—aye, and frequently too in defiance of the threatening—"BILL-STICKERS, BEWARE!"—staring him in the face. Like nature, he appears to abhor a vacuum. When we behold the gigantic size of some of the modern arches, we are almost led to suppose that the bill-sticker carries about his placards in a four-wheeled waggon, and that his paste-pot is a huge cauldron! How he contrives to paste and stick such an enormous sheet so neatly against the rugged side of a house, is really astonishing. Whether three or four stories high, the same precision is remarkable. We cannot but wonder at the dexterity of his practised hand: The union is as perfect as if Dan Hymen, the saffron-robed Joiner, had personally superintended the performance.
The wind is perhaps the only real enemy he has to fear. How his heart and his flimsy paper must flutter in the unruly gusts of a March wind! We only imagine him pasting up a "Sale of Horses," in a retired nook, and seeing his bill carried away on an eddy!
We once had the good fortune to witness a gusty freak of this kind. The bill-sticker had affixed a bill upon the hooks of his stick, displaying in prominent large characters—"SALE BY AUCTION—Mr. GEO. ROBINS—Capital Investment,"—and so forth, when a sudden whirlwind took the bill off the hooks, before it was stuck, and fairly enveloped the countenance of a dandy gentleman who happened at the moment to be turning the corner.
Such a "Capital Investment" was certainly ludicrous in the extreme.
The poor bill-sticker was rather alarmed, for he had never stuck a bill before on any front that was occupied.
He peeled the gentleman as quickly as possible, and stammered out an apology. The sufferer, however, swore he would prefer a bill against him at the ensuing sessions. Whether his threat was carried into execution, or he was satisfied with the damages already received, we know not.
There is a certain period of life beyond which the plastic mind of man becomes incapable of acquiring any new impressions. He merely elaborates and displays the stores he has garnered up in his youth. There are indeed some rare exceptions to the rule; but few, very few, can learn a language after the age of forty. 'Tis true that Cowper did not commence the composition of his delightful poems till he had attained that age; but then it must be remembered that he had previously passed a life of study and preparation, and that he merely gave the honey to the world which he had hived in his youth, bringing to the task a mind polished and matured by judgment and experience. But, generally speaking, we rather expect reason than rhyme from an elderly gentleman; and when the reverse is the case, the pursuit fits them as ridiculously as would a humming-top or a hoop. Yet there are many who, having passed a life in the sole occupation of making money—the most unpoetical of all avocations—that in their retirement entertain themselves with such fantastic pranks and antics, as only serve to amuse the lookers-on. A retired tradesman, it is true, may chase ennui and the 'taedium vitae,' by digging and planting in his kitchen-garden, or try his hand at rearing tulips and hyacinths; but if he vainly attempt any other art, or dabble in light literature or heavy philosophy, he is lost. Old Foozle was one of those who, having accumulated wealth, retire with their housekeepers to spend the remnant of their days in some suburban retreat, the monotony of whose life is varied by monthly trips to town to bring tea and grocery, or purchase some infallible remedy for their own gout, or their housekeeper's rheumatism. Unfortunately for his peace, Old Foozle accidentally dipped into a tattered tome of "Walton's Complete Angler;" and the vivid description of piscatorial pleasures therein set forth so won upon his mind, that he forthwith resolved to taste them. In vain were the remonstrances of his nurse, friend, and factotum. The experiment must be tried. Having more money than wit to spare, he presently supplied himself with reels and rods and tackle, landing-nets and gentle-boxes, and all the other necessary paraphernalia of the art.
Donning his best wig and spectacles, he sallied forth, defended from the weather by a short Spencer buttoned round his loins, and a pair of double-soled shoes and short gaiters. So eager was he to commence, that he no sooner espied a piece of water, than, with trembling hands, he put his rod together, and displayed his nets, laying his basket, gaping for the finny prey, on the margin of the placid waters. With eager gaze he watched his newly-varnished and many-coloured float, expecting every-moment to behold it sink, the inviting bait being prepared 'secundum artem.' He had certainly time for reflection, for his float had been cast at least an hour, and still remained stationary; from which he wisely augured that he was most certainly neither fishing in a running stream nor in troubled waters.
Presently a ragged urchin came sauntering along, and very leisurely seated himself upon a bank near the devoted angler. Curiosity is natural to youth, thought Foozle—how I shall make the lad wonder when I pull out a wriggling fish!
But still another weary hour passed, and the old gentleman's arms and loins began to ache from the novel and constrained posture in which he stood. He grew nervous and uneasy at the want of sport; and thinking that perhaps the little fellow was acquainted with the locality, he turned towards him, saying, in the blandest but still most indifferent tone he could assume, lest he should compromise his dignity by exposing his ignorance—
"I say, Jack, are there any fish in this pond?"
"There may be, sir," replied the boy, pulling his ragged forelock most deferentially, for Old Foozle had an awful churchwarden-like appearance; "there may be, but I should think they were weary small, 'cause there vos no vater in this here pond afore that there rain yesterday."
The sallow cheeks of the old angler were tinged with a ruddy glow, called up by the consciousness of his ridiculous position. Taking a penny from his pocket, he bade the boy go buy some cakes: and no sooner had he gallopped off, than the disappointed Waltonian hastily packed up his tackle, and turned his steps homeward; and this was the first and last essay of Old Foozle.
A club, under the imposing style of the "Crack-Shots," met every Wednesday evening, during the season, at a house of public entertainment in the salubrious suburbs of London, known by the classical sign of the "Magpye and Stump." Besides a trim garden and a small close-shaven grass-plat in the rear (where elderly gentlemen found a cure for 'taedium vitae' and the rheumatism in a social game of bowls), there was a meadow of about five or six acres, wherein a target was erected for the especial benefit of the members of this celebrated club; we say celebrated, because, of all clubs that ever made a noise in the world, this bore away the palm-according to the reports in the neighbourhood. Emulation naturally caused excitement, and the extraordinary deeds they performed under its influence we should never have credited, had we not received the veracious testimony of—the members themselves.
After the trials of skill, they generally spent the evenings together.
Jack Saggers was the hero of the party; or perhaps he might be more appropriately termed the "great gun," and was invariably voted to the chair. He made speeches, which went off admirably; and he perpetrated puns which, like his Joe Manton, never missed fire, being unanimously voted admirable hits by the joyous assembly.
Their pleasures and their conversation might truly be said to be of a piece.
"Gentlemen"—said Jack, one evening rising upon his legs—"Do me the favour to charge. Are you all primed and loaded? I am about to propose the health of a gentleman, who is not only an honour to society at large, but to the 'Crack-Shots' in particular. Gentlemen, the mere mention of the name of Brother Sniggs—(hear! hear!)—I know will call forth a volley!—(Hear! hear!) Gentlemen, I give you the health of Brother Sniggs! make ready, present and fire!"
Up went the glasses, and down went the liquor in a trice, followed by three times three, Jack Saggers giving the time, and acting as "fugle-man."
Sniggs, nervously fingering his tumbler of "half and half," as if he wanted the spirit to begin, hemmed audibly, and
|
"Having three times shook his head
To stir his wit, thus he said," |
"Gentlemen, I don't know how it is, but somehows the more a man has to say, the more he can't! I feel, for all the world, like a gun rammed tight and loaded to the muzzle, but without flint or priming——"
"Prime!" exclaimed Jack Saggers; and there was a general titter, and then he continued; "as we cannot let you off Sniggs, you most go on, you know."
"Gentlemen," resumed Sniggs, "I feel indeed so overloaded by the honors you have conferred on me, that I cannot find words to express my gratitude. I can only thank you, and express my sincere wish that your shots may always tell."
And he sat down amidst unbounded applause. "By no means a-miss!" cried Jack Saggers.
"A joke of mine, when I knocked down a bird the other morning," said Sniggs: "you must know I was out early, and had just brought down my bird, when leaping into the adjoining field to pick it up, a bird-catcher, who had spread his nets on the dewy grass, walked right up to me."
"I've a visper for you, Sir," says he, as cool as a cucumber; "I don't vish to be imperlite, but next time you shoots a bird vot I've brought to my call, I'll shoot you into a clay-pit, that's all!"
"And pray what did you say, Sniggs?" asked Jack Saggers.
"Say?—nothing! but I looked unutterable things, and—shouldering my piece—walked off!"
"Sniggs's rencontre with the bird-catcher reminds me of Tom Swivel's meeting with the Doctor," observed Smart.
"Make a report," cried Jack Saggers.
"Well, you must know, that I had lent him my piece for a day's shooting; and just as he was sauntering along by a dead wall near Hampstead, looking both ways at once for a quarry (for he has a particular squint), a stout gentleman in respectable black, and topped by a shovel-hat, happened to be coming in the opposite direction. With an expression of terror, the old gentleman drew himself up against the unyielding bricks, and authoritatively extending his walking-stick, addressed our sportsman in an angry tone, saying: 'How dare you carry a loaded gun pointed at people's viscera, you booby?' Now Tom is a booby, and no mistake, and so dropping his under jaw and staring at the reverend, he answered: 'I don't know vot you mean by a wiserar. I never shot a wiserar!'"
"Devilish good!" exclaimed Saggers; and, as a matter of course, everybody laughed.
Passing about the bottle, the club now became hilarious and noisy; when the hammer of the president rapped them to order, and knocked down Sniggs for a song, who, after humming over the tune to himself, struck up the following:
|
CHAUNT When the snow's on the ground and the trees are all bare, And rivers and gutters are turned into ice, The sportsman goes forth to shoot rabbit or hare, And gives them a taste of his skill in a trice. Bang! bang! goes his Joe, And the bird's fall like snow, And he bags all he kills in a trice. CHORUS. Bang! bang! goes his Joe, And the bird's fall like snow, And he bags all he kills in a trice. II. If he puts up a partridge or pheasant or duck, He marks him, and wings him, and brings him to earth; He let's nothing fly—but his piece—and good luck His bag fills with game and his bosom with mirth. Bang! bang! goes his Joe,
|
The customary applause having followed this vocal attempt of Sniggs, he was asked for a toast or a sentiment.
"Here's—'May the charitable man never know the want of—'shot.'" said Sniggs.
"Excellent!" exclaimed Saggers, approvingly; "By Jupiter Tonans, Sniggs, you're a true son of—a gun!"
"Sich a lark!" said Bill Sorrel, breaking abruptly in upon the noisy chorus, miscalled a general conversation; "sich a lark!"
"Where?" demanded Saggers.
"You've jist hit it," replied Sorrel, "for it vere worry near 'Vare vhere it happened. I'd gone hout hearly, you know, and had jist cotched sight of a bird a-vistling on a twig, and puttered the vords, 'I'll spile your singin', my tight 'un,' and levelled of my gun, ven a helderly gentleman, on t'other side of the bank vich vos atween me and the bird, pops up his powdered noddle in a jiffy, and goggling at me vith all his eyes, bawls pout in a tantivy of a fright, 'You need'nt be afear'd, sir,' says I, 'I aint a-haiming at you,' and vith that I pulls my trigger-bang! Vell, I lost my dicky! and ven I looks for the old 'un, by Jingo! I'd lost him too. So I mounts the bank vere he sot, but he vas'nt there; so I looks about, and hobserves a dry ditch at the foot, and cocking my eye along it, vhy, I'm blessed, if I did'nt see the old fellow a-scampering along as fast as his legs could carry him. Did'nt I laugh, ready to split—that's all!"
"I tell you what, Sorrel," said the president, with mock gravity, "I consider the whole affair, however ridiculous, most immoral and reprehensible. What, shall a crack-shot make a target of an elder? Never! Let us seek more appropriate butts for our barrels! You may perhaps look upon the whole as a piece of pleasantry but let me tell you that you ran a narrow chance of being indicted for a breach of the peace! And remember, that even shooting a deer may not prove so dear a shot as bringing down an old buck!"
This humorous reproof was applauded by a "bravo!" from the whole club.
Sorrel sang—small, and Sniggs sang another sporting ditty.
"Our next meeting," resumed Saggers, "is on Thursday next when the pigeon-match takes place for a silver-cup—the 'Crack Shots' against the 'Oriental Club.' I think we shall give them I taste of our quality,' although we do not intend that they shall lick us. The silver-cup is their own proposal. The contest being a pigeon-match, I humbly proposed, as an amendment, that the prize should be a tumbler—which I lost by a minority of three. In returning thanks, I took occasion to allude to their rejection of my proposition, and ironically thanked them for having cut my tumbler."
"Werry good!" shouted Sorrel.
"Admirable!" exclaimed Sniggs; and, rising with due solemnity, he proposed the health of the "worthy president," prefacing his speech with the modest avowal of his inability to do what he still persisted in doing and did.
"Brother Shots!" said Saggers, after the usual honours had been duly performed, "I am so unaccustomed to speaking (a laugh), that I rise with a feeling of timidity to thank you for the distinguished honour you have conferred on me. Praise, like wine, elevates a man, but it likewise thickens and obstructs his speech; therefore, without attempting any rhetorical flourish, I will simply say, I sincerely thank you all for the very handsome manner in which you have responded to the friendly wishes of Brother Sniggs; and, now as the hour of midnight is at hand, I bid you farewell. It is indeed difficult to part from such good company; but, although it is morally impossible there ever can be a division among such cordial friends, both drunk and sober may at least separate—in spirits,—and I trust we shall all meet again in health—Farewell!"
|
Old Doctor Spraggs! famed Doctor Spraggs! Was both well fee'd and fed, And, tho' no soldier, Doctor Spraggs Had for his country-bled. His patients living far and wide He was compell'd to buy A horse; and found no trouble, for He'd got one in his eye! He was a tall and bony steed And warranted to trot, And so he bought the trotter, and Of course four trotters got. Quoth he: "In sunshine quick he bounds "Across the verdant plain, "And, e'en when showers fall, he proves "He—doesn't mind the rain!" But, oh! one morn, when Doctor Spraggs Was trotting on his way, A field of sportsmen came in view, And made his courser neigh. "Nay! you may neigh," quoth Doctor Spraggs, "But run not, I declare "I did not come to chase the fox, "I came to take the—air! But all in vain he tugg'd the rein, The steed would not be stay'd; The "Doctor's stuff" was shaken, and A tune the vials play'd. For in his pockets he had stow'd Some physic for the sick; Anon, "crack" went the bottles all, And forma a "mixture" quick. His hat and wig flew off, but still The reins he hugg'd and haul'd; And, tho' no cry the huntsmen heard, They saw the Doctor—bald! They loudly laugh'd and cheer'd him on, While Spraggs, quite out of breath, Still gallopp'd on against his will, And came in at the death. To see the Doctor riding thus To sportsmen was a treat, And loudly they applauded him— (Tho' mounted) on his feat! MORAL. Ye Doctors bold, of this proud land Of liberty and—fogs, No hunters ride, or you will go Like poor Spraggs—to the dogs! |
"Well, Bill, d'ye get any bites over there?" "No, but I'm afeard I shall, soon have one."
Two youths, by favour of their sponsors, bearing the aristocratic names of William and Joseph, started early one morning duly equipped, on piscatorial sport intent. They trudged gaily forward towards a neighbouring river, looking right and left, and around them, as sharp as two crows that have scented afar off the carcase of a defunct nag.
At length they arrived at a lofty wall, on the wrong side of which, musically meandered the stream they sought. After a deliberate consultation, the valiant William resolved to scale the impediment, and cast the line. Joseph prudently remained on the other side ready to catch the fish—his companion should throw to him! Presently an exclamation of "Oh! my!" attracted his attention.
"Have you got a bite?" eagerly demanded Joe.
"No! by gosh! but I think I shall soon!" cried Bill. Hereupon the expectant Joseph mounted, and seating himself upon the wall, beheld to his horror, Master Bill keeping a fierce bull-dog at bay with the butt end of his fishing-rod.
"Go it, Bill!" exclaimed Joe, "pitch into him and scramble up."
The dog ran at him.—Joe in his agitation fell from his position, while Bill threw his rod at the beast, made a desperate leap, and clutched the top of the wall with his hands.
"Egad! I've lost my seat," cried Joe, rolling upon the grass.
"And so have I!" roared Bill, scrambling in affright over the wall.
And true it was, that he who had not got a bite before, had got a bite—behind!
Bill anathematised the dog, but the ludicrous bereavement he had sustained made him laugh, in spite of his teeth!
Joe joined in his merriment.
"What a burning shame it is?" said he; "truly there ought to be breaches ready made in these walls, Bill, that one might escape, if not repair these damages."
"No matter," replied Bill, shaking his head, "I know the owner—he's a Member of Parliament. Stop till the next election, that's all."
"Why, what has that to do with it?" demanded Joe.
"Do with it," said Bill emphatically, "why, I'll canvass for the opposite party, to be sure."
"And what then?"
"Then I shall have the pleasure of serving him as his dog has served me. Yes! Joe, the M. P. will lose his seat to a dead certainty!"
"Another pigeon! egad, I'm in luck's way this morning."
|
Round and red, through the morning fog The sun's bright face Shone, like some jolly toping dog Of Bacchus' race. When Jenkins, with his gun and cur On sport intent, Through fields, and meadows, many fur— —longs gaily went. He popp'd at birds both great and small, But nothing hit; Or if he hit, they wouldn't fall— No, not a bit! "It's wery strange, I do declare; I never see! I go at sky-larks in the hair Or on a tree." "It's all the same, they fly away Has I let fly— The birds is frightened, I dare say, And vill not die." "Vhy, here's a go! I hav'nt ramm'd In any shot; The birds must think I only shamm'd, And none have got." "I'll undeceive 'em quickly now, I bet a crown; And whether fieldfare, tit, or crow, Vill bring 'em down." And as he spake a pigeon flew Across his way— Bang went his piece—and Jenkins slew The flutt'ring prey. He bagg'd his game, and onward went, When to his view Another rose, by fortune sent To make up two. He fired, and beheld it fall With inward glee, And for a minute 'neath a wall Stood gazing he. When from behind, fierce, heavy blows Fell on his hat, And knock'd his beaver o'er his nose, And laid him flat. "What for," cried Jenkins, "am I mill'd, Sir, like this ere?" "You villain, you, why you have kill'd My pouter rare." The sturdy knave who struck him down With frown replied:— "For which I'll make you pay a crown Nor be denied." Poor Jenkins saw it was in vain To bandy words; So paid the cash and vow'd, again He'd not shoot birds— At least of that same feather, lest For Pouter shot Some Dragon fierce should him molest— And fled the spot. |
A merry holiday party, forming a tolerable boat-load, and well provided with baskets of provisions, were rowing along the beautiful and picturesque banks that fringe the river's side near Twickenham, eagerly looking out for a spot where they might enjoy their "pic-nic" to perfection.
"O! uncle, there's a romantic glade;—do let us land there!" exclaimed a beautiful girl of eighteen summers, to a respectable old gentleman in a broad brimmed beaver and spectacles.
"Just the thing, I declare," replied he—"the very spot—pull away, my lads—but dear me" continued he, as they neared the intended landing-place, "What have we here? What says the board?"
"PARTIES ARE NOT, ALLOWED TO
LAND AND DINE HERE"
Oh! oh! very well; then we'll only land here, and dine a little further on"
"What a repulsive board"—cried the young lady—"I declare now I'm quite vex'd"—
"Never mind, Julia, we won't be bored by any board"—said the jocose old gentleman.
"I'm sure, uncle"—said one of the youths—"we don't require any board, for we provide ourselves."
"You're quite right, Master Dickey," said his uncle; "for we only came out for a lark, you know, and no lark requires more than a little turf for its entertainment; pull close to the bank, and let us land."
"Oh! but suppose," said the timid Julia, "the surly owner should pounce upon us, just as we are taking our wine?"
"Why then, my love," replied he, "we have only to abandon our wine, and, like sober members of the Temperance Society—take water."
Pulling the wherry close along side the grassy bank, and fastening it carefully to the stump of an old tree, the whole party landed.
"How soft and beautiful is the green-sward here," said the romantic Julia, indenting the yielding grass with her kid-covered tiny feet; "Does not a gentleman of the name of Nimrod sing the pleasure of the Turf?" said Emma: "I wonder if he ever felt it as we do?"
"Certainly not," replied Master Dickey, winking at his uncle; "for the blades of the Turf he describes, are neither so fresh nor so green as these; and the 'stakes' he mentions are rather different from those contained in our pigeon-pie."
"But I doubt, Dickey," said his uncle, "if his pen ever described a better race than the present company. The Jenkins's, let me tell you, come of a good stock, and sport some of the best blood in the country."
"Beautiful branches of a noble tree," exclaimed Master Dicky, "but, uncle, a hard row has made me rather peckish; let us spread the provender. I think there's an honest hand of pork yonder that is right worthy of a friendly grasp;—only see if, by a single touch of that magical hand, I'm not speedily transformed into a boat."
"What sort of a boat?" cried Julia. "A cutter, to be sure," replied Master Dicky, and laughing he ran off with his male companions to bring the provisions ashore.
Meanwhile the uncle and his niece selected a level spot beneath the umbrageous trees, and prepared for the unpacking of the edibles.
Notwithstanding the proverbial variety of the climate, there is no nation under the sun so fond of Pic-Nic parties as the English; and yet how seldom are their pleasant dreams of rural repasts in the open air fated to be realized!
However snugly they may pack the materials for the feast, the pack generally gets shuffled in the carriage, and consequently their promised pleasure proves anything but "without mixture without measure."
The jam-tarts are brought to light, and are found to have got a little jam too much. The bottles are cracked before their time, and the liberal supplies of pale sherry and old port are turned into a—little current.
They turn out their jar of ghirkins, and find them mixed, and all their store in a sad pickle.
The leg of mutton is the only thing that has stood in the general melee.
The plates are all dished, and the dishes only fit for a lunatic asylum, being all literally cracked.
Even the knives and forks are found to ride rusty on the occasion. The bread is become sop; and they have not even the satisfaction of getting salt to their porridge, for that is dissolved into briny tears.
Like the provisions, they find themselves uncomfortably hamper'd; for they generally chuse such a very retired spot, that there is nothing to be had for love or money in the neighbourhood, for all the shops are as distant as—ninety-ninth cousins!
However delightful the scenery may be, it is counterbalanced by the prospect of starvation.
Although on the borders of a stream abounding in fish, they have neither hook nor line; and even the young gentlemen who sing fail in a catch for want of the necessary bait. Their spirits are naturally damped by their disappointment, and their holiday garments by a summer shower; and though the ducks of the gentlemen take the water as favourably as possible, every white muslin presently assumes the appearance of a drab, and, becoming a little limp and dirty, looks as miserable as a lame beggar!
In fine, it is only a donkey or a goose that can reasonably expect to obtain a comfortable feed in a field. It may be very poetical to talk of "Nature's table-cloth of emerald verdure;" but depend on it, a damask one, spread over that full-grown vegetable—a mahogany table—is far preferable.
GILES was the eldest son and heir of Jeremiah Styles—a cultivator of the soil—who, losing his first wife, took unto himself, at the mature age of fifty, a second, called by the neighbours, by reason of the narrowness of her economy, and the slenderness of her body, Jeremiah's Spare-rib.
Giles was a "'cute" lad, and his appetite soon became, under his step-mother's management, as sharp as his wit; and although he continually complained of getting nothing but fat, when pork chanced to form a portion of her dietary, it was evident to all his acquaintance that he really got lean! His legs, indeed, became so slight, that many of his jocose companions amused themselves with striking at them with straws as he passed through the farmyard of a morning.
"Whoy, Giles!" remarked one of them, "thee calves ha' gone to grass, lad."
"Thee may say that, Jeames," replied Giles; "or d'ye see they did'nt find I green enough."
"I do think now, Giles," said James, "that Mother Styles do feed thee on nothing, and keeps her cat on the leavings."
"Noa, she don't," said Giles, "for we boath do get what we can catch, and nothing more. Whoy, now, what do you think, Jeames; last Saturday, if the old 'ooman did'nt sarve me out a dish o' biled horse-beans—"
"Horse-beans?" cried James; "lack-a-daisy me, and what did you do?"
"Whoy, just what a horse would ha' done, to be sure—"
"Eat 'em?"
"Noa—I kicked, and said 'Nay,' and so the old 'ooman put herself into a woundy passion wi' I. 'Not make a dinner of horsebeans, you dainty dog,' says she; 'I wish you may never have a worse.'—'Noa, mother,' says I, 'I hope I never shall.' And she did put herself into such a tantrum, to be sure—so I bolted; whereby, d'ye see, I saved my bacon, and the old 'ooman her beans. But it won't do. Jeames, I've a notion I shall go a recruit, and them I'm thinking I shall get into a reg'lar mess, and get shut of a reg'lar row."
"Dang it, it's too bad!" said the sympathising James; "and when do thee go?"
"Next March, to be sure," replied Giles, with a spirit which was natural to him—indeed, as to any artificial spirit, it was really foreign to his lips.
"But thee are such a scare-crow, Giles," said James; "thee are thin as a weasel."
"My drumsticks," answered he, smiling, "may recommend me to the band—mayhap—for I do think they'll beat anything."
"I don't like sogering neither," said James, thoughtfully. "Suppose the French make a hole in thee with a bagnet—"
"Whoy, then, I shall be 'sewed up,' thee know."
"That's mighty foine," replied James, shaking his head; "but I'd rather not, thank'ye."
"Oh! Jeames, a mother-in-law's a greater bore than a bagnet, depend on't; and it's my mind, it's better to die in a trench than afore an empty trencher—I'll list"
And with this unalterable determination, the half-starved, though still merry Giles, quitted his companion; and the following month, in pursuance of the resolve he had made, he enlisted in his Majesty's service. Fortunately for the youth, he received more billets than bullets, and consequently grew out of knowledge, although he obtained a world of information in his travels; and, at the expiration of the war, returned to his native village covered with laurels, and in the Joyment of the half-pay of a corporal, to which rank he had been promoted in consequence of his meritorious conduct in the Peninsula. His father was still living, but his step-nother was lying quietly in the church-yard.
"I hope, father," said the affectionate Giles, "that thee saw her buried in a deep grave, and laid a stone a-top of her?"
"I did, my son."
"Then I am happy," replied Giles.
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Sketches of Seymour (Illustrated),
Part 3., by Robert Seymour
*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SKETCHES OF SEYMOUR ***
***** This file should be named 5647-h.htm or 5647-h.zip *****
This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
https://www.gutenberg.org/5/6/4/5647/
Produced by David Widger
Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
will be renamed.
Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules,
set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project
Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you
do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is
subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
redistribution.
*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
https://gutenberg.org/license).
Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works
1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works. See paragraph 1.E below.
1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an
individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check
the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning
the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
States.
1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
copied or distributed:
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
1.E.9.
1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked
to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.
1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or
distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
that
- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is
owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments
must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License. You must require such a user to return or
destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
Project Gutenberg-tm works.
- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
of receipt of the work.
- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the
Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
1.F.
1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
your equipment.
1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.
1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with
the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy
is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
opportunities to fix the problem.
1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.
Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org.
Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at
809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
[email protected]. Email contact links and up to date contact
information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
page at https://pglaf.org
For additional contact information:
Dr. Gregory B. Newby
Chief Executive and Director
[email protected]
Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation
Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.
The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To
SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
particular state visit https://pglaf.org
While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.
International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate
Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.
Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
https://www.gutenberg.org
This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.