Mrs. Tibbs was, beyond all dispute, the most tidy, fidgety, thrifty
little personage that ever inhaled the smoke of London; and the
house of Mrs. Tibbs was, decidedly, the neatest in all Great Coram-
street. The area and the area-steps, and the street-door and the
street-door steps, and the brass handle, and the door-plate, and
the knocker, and the fan-light, were all as clean and bright, as
indefatigable white-washing, and hearth-stoning, and scrubbing and
rubbing, could make them. The wonder was, that the brass door-
plate, with the interesting inscription 'MRS. TIBBS,' had never
caught fire from constant friction, so perseveringly was it
polished. There were meat-safe-looking blinds in the parlour-
windows, blue and gold curtains in the drawing-room, and spring-
roller blinds, as Mrs. Tibbs was wont in the pride of her heart to
boast, 'all the way up.' The bell-lamp in the passage looked as
clear as a soap-bubble; you could see yourself in all the tables,
and French-polish yourself on any one of the chairs. The banisters
were bees-waxed; and the very stair-wires made your eyes wink, they
were so glittering.
Mrs. Tibbs was somewhat short of stature, and Mr. Tibbs was by no
means a large man. He had, moreover, very short legs, but, by way
of indemnification, his face was peculiarly long. He was to his
wife what the 0 is in 90--he was of some importance WITH her--he
was nothing without her. Mrs. Tibbs was always talking. Mr. Tibbs
rarely spoke; but, if it were at any time possible to put in a
word, when he should have said nothing at all, he had that talent.
Mrs. Tibbs detested long stories, and Mr. Tibbs had one, the
conclusion of which had never been heard by his most intimate
friends. It always began, 'I recollect when I was in the volunteer
corps, in eighteen hundred and six,'--but, as he spoke very slowly
and softly, and his better half very quickly and loudly, he rarely
got beyond the introductory sentence. He was a melancholy specimen
of the story-teller. He was the wandering Jew of Joe Millerism.
Mr. Tibbs enjoyed a small independence from the pension-list--about
43l. 15s. 10d. a year. His father, mother, and five interesting
scions from the same stock, drew a like sum from the revenue of a
grateful country, though for what particular service was never
known. But, as this said independence was not quite sufficient to
furnish two people with ALL the luxuries of this life, it had
occurred to the busy little spouse of Tibbs, that the best thing
she could do with a legacy of 700l., would be to take and furnish a
tolerable house--somewhere in that partially-explored tract of
country which lies between the British Museum, and a remote village
called Somers-town--for the reception of boarders. Great Coram-
street was the spot pitched upon. The house had been furnished
accordingly; two female servants and a boy engaged; and an
advertisement inserted in the morning papers, informing the public
that 'Six individuals would meet with all the comforts of a
cheerful musical home in a select private family, residing within
ten minutes' walk of'--everywhere. Answers out of number were
received, with all sorts of initials; all the letters of the
alphabet seemed to be seized with a sudden wish to go out boarding
and lodging; voluminous was the correspondence between Mrs. Tibbs
and the applicants; and most profound was the secrecy observed.
'E.' didn't like this; 'I.' couldn't think of putting up with that;
'I. O. U.' didn't think the terms would suit him; and 'G. R.' had
never slept in a French bed. The result, however, was, that three
gentlemen became inmates of Mrs. Tibbs's house, on terms which were
'agreeable to all parties.' In went the advertisement again, and a
lady with her two daughters, proposed to increase--not their
families, but Mrs. Tibbs's.
'Charming woman, that Mrs. Maplesone!' said Mrs. Tibbs, as she and
her spouse were sitting by the fire after breakfast; the gentlemen
having gone out on their several avocations. 'Charming woman,
indeed!' repeated little Mrs. Tibbs, more by way of soliloquy than
anything else, for she never thought of consulting her husband.
'And the two daughters are delightful. We must have some fish to-
day; they'll join us at dinner for the first time.'
Mr. Tibbs placed the poker at right angles with the fire shovel,
and essayed to speak, but recollected he had nothing to say.
'The young ladies,' continued Mrs. T., 'have kindly volunteered to
bring their own piano.'
Tibbs thought of the volunteer story, but did not venture it.
A bright thought struck him -
'It's very likely--' said he.
'Pray don't lean your head against the paper,' interrupted Mrs.
Tibbs; 'and don't put your feet on the steel fender; that's worse.'
Tibbs took his head from the paper, and his feet from the fender,
and proceeded. 'It's very likely one of the young ladies may set
her cap at young Mr. Simpson, and you know a marriage--'
'A what!' shrieked Mrs. Tibbs. Tibbs modestly repeated his former
'I beg you won't mention such a thing,' said Mrs. T. 'A marriage,
indeed to rob me of my boarders--no, not for the world.'
Tibbs thought in his own mind that the event was by no means
unlikely, but, as he never argued with his wife, he put a stop to
the dialogue, by observing it was 'time to go to business.' He
always went out at ten o'clock in the morning, and returned at five
in the afternoon, with an exceedingly dirty face, and smelling
mouldy. Nobody knew what he was, or where he went; but Mrs. Tibbs
used to say with an air of great importance, that he was engaged in
The Miss Maplesones and their accomplished parent arrived in the
course of the afternoon in a hackney-coach, and accompanied by a
most astonishing number of packages. Trunks, bonnet-boxes, muff-
boxes and parasols, guitar-cases, and parcels of all imaginable
shapes, done up in brown paper, and fastened with pins, filled the
passage. Then, there was such a running up and down with the
luggage, such scampering for warm water for the ladies to wash in,
and such a bustle, and confusion, and heating of servants, and
curling-irons, as had never been known in Great Coram-street
before. Little Mrs. Tibbs was quite in her element, bustling
about, talking incessantly, and distributing towels and soap, like
a head nurse in a hospital. The house was not restored to its
usual state of quiet repose, until the ladies were safely shut up
in their respective bedrooms, engaged in the important occupation
of dressing for dinner.
'Are these gals 'andsome?' inquired Mr. Simpson of Mr. Septimus
Hicks, another of the boarders, as they were amusing themselves in
the drawing-room, before dinner, by lolling on sofas, and
contemplating their pumps.
'Don't know,' replied Mr. Septimus Hicks, who was a tallish, white-
faced young man, with spectacles, and a black ribbon round his neck
instead of a neckerchief--a most interesting person; a poetical
walker of the hospitals, and a 'very talented young man.' He was
fond of 'lugging' into conversation all sorts of quotations from
Don Juan, without fettering himself by the propriety of their
application; in which particular he was remarkably independent.
The other, Mr. Simpson, was one of those young men, who are in
society what walking gentlemen are on the stage, only infinitely
worse skilled in his vocation than the most indifferent artist. He
was as empty-headed as the great bell of St. Paul's; always dressed
according to the caricatures published in the monthly fashion; and
spelt Character with a K.
'I saw a devilish number of parcels in the passage when I came
home,' simpered Mr. Simpson.
'Materials for the toilet, no doubt,' rejoined the Don Juan reader.
- 'Much linen, lace, and several pair
Of stockings, slippers, brushes, combs, complete;
With other articles of ladies fair,
To keep them beautiful, or leave them neat.'
'Is that from Milton?' inquired Mr. Simpson.
'No--from Byron,' returned Mr. Hicks, with a look of contempt. He
was quite sure of his author, because he had never read any other.
'Hush! Here come the gals,' and they both commenced talking in a
very loud key.
'Mrs. Maplesone and the Miss Maplesones, Mr. Hicks. Mr. Hicks--
Mrs. Maplesone and the Miss Maplesones,' said Mrs. Tibbs, with a
very red face, for she had been superintending the cooking
operations below stairs, and looked like a wax doll on a sunny day.
'Mr. Simpson, I beg your pardon--Mr. Simpson--Mrs. Maplesone and
the Miss Maplesones'--and vice versa. The gentlemen immediately
began to slide about with much politeness, and to look as if they
wished their arms had been legs, so little did they know what to do
with them. The ladies smiled, curtseyed, and glided into chairs,
and dived for dropped pocket-handkerchiefs: the gentlemen leant
against two of the curtain-pegs; Mrs. Tibbs went through an
admirable bit of serious pantomime with a servant who had come up
to ask some question about the fish-sauce; and then the two young
ladies looked at each other; and everybody else appeared to
discover something very attractive in the pattern of the fender.
'Julia, my love,' said Mrs. Maplesone to her youngest daughter, in
a tone loud enough for the remainder of the company to hear--
'Don't stoop.'--This was said for the purpose of directing general
attention to Miss Julia's figure, which was undeniable. Everybody
looked at her, accordingly, and there was another pause.
'We had the most uncivil hackney-coachman to-day, you can imagine,'
said Mrs. Maplesone to Mrs. Tibbs, in a confidential tone.
'Dear me!' replied the hostess, with an air of great commiseration.
She couldn't say more, for the servant again appeared at the door,
and commenced telegraphing most earnestly to her 'Missis.'
'I think hackney-coachmen generally ARE uncivil,' said Mr. Hicks in
his most insinuating tone.
'Positively I think they are,' replied Mrs. Maplesone, as if the
idea had never struck her before.
'And cabmen, too,' said Mr. Simpson. This remark was a failure,
for no one intimated, by word or sign, the slightest knowledge of
the manners and customs of cabmen.
'Robinson, what DO you want?' said Mrs. Tibbs to the servant, who,
by way of making her presence known to her mistress, had been
giving sundry hems and sniffs outside the door during the preceding
'Please, ma'am, master wants his clean things,' replied the
servant, taken off her guard. The two young men turned their faces
to the window, and 'went off' like a couple of bottles of ginger-
beer; the ladies put their handkerchiefs to their mouths; and
little Mrs. Tibbs bustled out of the room to give Tibbs his clean
linen,--and the servant warning.
Mr. Calton, the remaining boarder, shortly afterwards made his
appearance, and proved a surprising promoter of the conversation.
Mr. Calton was a superannuated beau--an old boy. He used to say of
himself that although his features were not regularly handsome,
they were striking. They certainly were. It was impossible to
look at his face without being reminded of a chubby street-door
knocker, half-lion half-monkey; and the comparison might be
extended to his whole character and conversation. He had stood
still, while everything else had been moving. He never originated
a conversation, or started an idea; but if any commonplace topic
were broached, or, to pursue the comparison, if anybody LIFTED HIM
UP, he would hammer away with surprising rapidity. He had the tic-
douloureux occasionally, and then he might be said to be muffled,
because he did not make quite as much noise as at other times, when
he would go on prosing, rat-tat-tat the same thing over and over
again. He had never been married; but he was still on the look-out
for a wife with money. He had a life interest worth about 300l. a
year--he was exceedingly vain, and inordinately selfish. He had
acquired the reputation of being the very pink of politeness, and
he walked round the park, and up Regent-street, every day.
This respectable personage had made up his mind to render himself
exceedingly agreeable to Mrs. Maplesone--indeed, the desire of
being as amiable as possible extended itself to the whole party;
Mrs. Tibbs having considered it an admirable little bit of
management to represent to the gentlemen that she had SOME reason
to believe the ladies were fortunes, and to hint to the ladies,
that all the gentlemen were 'eligible.' A little flirtation, she
thought, might keep her house full, without leading to any other
Mrs. Maplesone was an enterprising widow of about fifty: shrewd,
scheming, and good-looking. She was amiably anxious on behalf of
her daughters; in proof whereof she used to remark, that she would
have no objection to marry again, if it would benefit her dear
girls--she could have no other motive. The 'dear girls' themselves
were not at all insensible to the merits of 'a good establishment.'
One of them was twenty-five; the other, three years younger. They
had been at different watering-places, for four seasons; they had
gambled at libraries, read books in balconies, sold at fancy fairs,
danced at assemblies, talked sentiment--in short, they had done all
that industrious girls could do--but, as yet, to no purpose.
'What a magnificent dresser Mr. Simpson is!' whispered Matilda
Maplesone to her sister Julia.
'Splendid!' returned the youngest. The magnificent individual
alluded to wore a maroon-coloured dress-coat, with a velvet collar
and cuffs of the same tint--very like that which usually invests
the form of the distinguished unknown who condescends to play the
'swell' in the pantomime at 'Richardson's Show.'
'What whiskers!' said Miss Julia.
'Charming!' responded her sister; 'and what hair!' His hair was
like a wig, and distinguished by that insinuating wave which graces
the shining locks of those chef-d'oeuvres of art surmounting the
waxen images in Bartellot's window in Regent-street; his whiskers
meeting beneath his chin, seemed strings wherewith to tie it on,
ere science had rendered them unnecessary by her patent invisible
'Dinner's on the table, ma'am, if you please,' said the boy, who
now appeared for the first time, in a revived black coat of his
'Oh! Mr. Calton, will you lead Mrs. Maplesone?--Thank you.' Mr.
Simpson offered his arm to Miss Julia; Mr. Septimus Hicks escorted
the lovely Matilda; and the procession proceeded to the dining-
room. Mr. Tibbs was introduced, and Mr. Tibbs bobbed up and down
to the three ladies like a figure in a Dutch clock, with a powerful
spring in the middle of his body, and then dived rapidly into his
seat at the bottom of the table, delighted to screen himself behind
a soup-tureen, which he could just see over, and that was all. The
boarders were seated, a lady and gentleman alternately, like the
layers of bread and meat in a plate of sandwiches; and then Mrs.
Tibbs directed James to take off the covers. Salmon, lobster-
sauce, giblet-soup, and the usual accompaniments were discovered:
potatoes like petrifactions, and bits of toasted bread, the shape
and size of blank dice.
'Soup for Mrs. Maplesone, my dear,' said the bustling Mrs. Tibbs.
She always called her husband 'my dear' before company. Tibbs, who
had been eating his bread, and calculating how long it would be
before he should get any fish, helped the soup in a hurry, made a
small island on the table-cloth, and put his glass upon it, to hide
it from his wife.
'Miss Julia, shall I assist you to some fish?'
'If you please--very little--oh! plenty, thank you' (a bit about
the size of a walnut put upon the plate).
'Julia is a VERY little eater,' said Mrs. Maplesone to Mr. Calton.
The knocker gave a single rap. He was busy eating the fish with
his eyes: so he only ejaculated, 'Ah!'
'My dear,' said Mrs. Tibbs to her spouse after every one else had
been helped, 'what do YOU take?' The inquiry was accompanied with
a look intimating that he mustn't say fish, because there was not
much left. Tibbs thought the frown referred to the island on the
table-cloth; he therefore coolly replied, 'Why--I'll take a little-
-fish, I think.'
'Did you say fish, my dear?' (another frown).
'Yes, dear,' replied the villain, with an expression of acute
hunger depicted in his countenance. The tears almost started to
Mrs. Tibbs's eyes, as she helped her 'wretch of a husband,' as she
inwardly called him, to the last eatable bit of salmon on the dish.
'James, take this to your master, and take away your master's
knife.' This was deliberate revenge, as Tibbs never could eat fish
without one. He was, however, constrained to chase small particles
of salmon round and round his plate with a piece of bread and a
fork, the number of successful attempts being about one in
'Take away, James,' said Mrs. Tibbs, as Tibbs swallowed the fourth
mouthful--and away went the plates like lightning.
'I'll take a bit of bread, James,' said the poor 'master of the
house,' more hungry than ever.
'Never mind your master now, James,' said Mrs. Tibbs, 'see about
the meat.' This was conveyed in the tone in which ladies usually
give admonitions to servants in company, that is to say, a low one;
but which, like a stage whisper, from its peculiar emphasis, is
most distinctly heard by everybody present.
A pause ensued, before the table was replenished--a sort of
parenthesis in which Mr. Simpson, Mr. Calton, and Mr. Hicks,
produced respectively a bottle of sauterne, bucellas, and sherry,
and took wine with everybody--except Tibbs. No one ever thought of
Between the fish and an intimated sirloin, there was a prolonged
Here was an opportunity for Mr. Hicks. He could not resist the
singularly appropriate quotation -
'But beef is rare within these oxless isles;
Goats' flesh there is, no doubt, and kid, and mutton,
And when a holiday upon them smiles,
A joint upon their barbarous spits they put on.'
'Very ungentlemanly behaviour,' thought little Mrs. Tibbs, 'to talk
in that way.'
'Ah,' said Mr. Calton, filling his glass. 'Tom Moore is my poet.'
'And mine,' said Mrs. Maplesone.
'And mine,' said Miss Julia.
'And mine,' added Mr. Simpson.
'Look at his compositions,' resumed the knocker.
'To be sure,' said Simpson, with confidence.
'Look at Don Juan,' replied Mr. Septimus Hicks.
'Julia's letter,' suggested Miss Matilda.
'Can anything be grander than the Fire Worshippers?' inquired Miss
'To be sure,' said Simpson.
'Or Paradise and the Peri,' said the old beau.
'Yes; or Paradise and the Peer,' repeated Simpson, who thought he
was getting through it capitally.
'It's all very well,' replied Mr. Septimus Hicks, who, as we have
before hinted, never had read anything but Don Juan. 'Where will
you find anything finer than the description of the siege, at the
commencement of the seventh canto?'
'Talking of a siege,' said Tibbs, with a mouthful of bread--'when I
was in the volunteer corps, in eighteen hundred and six, our
commanding officer was Sir Charles Rampart; and one day, when we
were exercising on the ground on which the London University now
stands, he says, says he, Tibbs (calling me from the ranks), Tibbs-
'Tell your master, James,' interrupted Mrs. Tibbs, in an awfully
distinct tone, 'tell your master if he WON'T carve those fowls, to
send them to me.' The discomfited volunteer instantly set to work,
and carved the fowls almost as expeditiously as his wife operated
on the haunch of mutton. Whether he ever finished the story is not
known but, if he did, nobody heard it.
As the ice was now broken, and the new inmates more at home, every
member of the company felt more at ease. Tibbs himself most
certainly did, because he went to sleep immediately after dinner.
Mr. Hicks and the ladies discoursed most eloquently about poetry,
and the theatres, and Lord Chesterfield's Letters; and Mr. Calton
followed up what everybody said, with continuous double knocks.
Mrs. Tibbs highly approved of every observation that fell from Mrs.
Maplesone; and as Mr. Simpson sat with a smile upon his face and
said 'Yes,' or 'Certainly,' at intervals of about four minutes
each, he received full credit for understanding what was going
forward. The gentlemen rejoined the ladies in the drawing-room
very shortly after they had left the dining-parlour. Mrs.
Maplesone and Mr. Calton played cribbage, and the 'young people'
amused themselves with music and conversation. The Miss Maplesones
sang the most fascinating duets, and accompanied themselves on
guitars, ornamented with bits of ethereal blue ribbon. Mr. Simpson
put on a pink waistcoat, and said he was in raptures; and Mr. Hicks
felt in the seventh heaven of poetry or the seventh canto of Don
Juan--it was the same thing to him. Mrs. Tibbs was quite charmed
with the newcomers; and Mr. Tibbs spent the evening in his usual
way--he went to sleep, and woke up, and went to sleep again, and
woke at supper-time.
* * * * *
We are not about to adopt the licence of novel-writers, and to let
'years roll on;' but we will take the liberty of requesting the
reader to suppose that six months have elapsed, since the dinner we
have described, and that Mrs. Tibbs's boarders have, during that
period, sang, and danced, and gone to theatres and exhibitions,
together, as ladies and gentlemen, wherever they board, often do.
And we will beg them, the period we have mentioned having elapsed,
to imagine farther, that Mr. Septimus Hicks received, in his own
bedroom (a front attic), at an early hour one morning, a note from
Mr. Calton, requesting the favour of seeing him, as soon as
convenient to himself, in his (Calton's) dressing-room on the
'Tell Mr. Calton I'll come down directly,' said Mr. Septimus to the
boy. 'Stop--is Mr. Calton unwell?' inquired this excited walker of
hospitals, as he put on a bed-furniture-looking dressing-gown.
'Not as I knows on, sir,' replied the boy. ' Please, sir, he
looked rather rum, as it might be.'
'Ah, that's no proof of his being ill,' returned Hicks,
unconsciously. 'Very well: I'll be down directly.' Downstairs
ran the boy with the message, and down went the excited Hicks
himself, almost as soon as the message was delivered. 'Tap, tap.'
'Come in.'--Door opens, and discovers Mr. Calton sitting in an easy
chair. Mutual shakes of the hand exchanged, and Mr. Septimus Hicks
motioned to a seat. A short pause. Mr. Hicks coughed, and Mr.
Calton took a pinch of snuff. It was one of those interviews where
neither party knows what to say. Mr. Septimus Hicks broke silence.
'I received a note--' he said, very tremulously, in a voice like a
Punch with a cold.
'Yes,' returned the other, 'you did.'
Now, although this dialogue must have been satisfactory, both
gentlemen felt there was something more important to be said;
therefore they did as most men in such a situation would have done-
-they looked at the table with a determined aspect. The
conversation had been opened, however, and Mr. Calton had made up
his mind to continue it with a regular double knock. He always
spoke very pompously.
'Hicks,' said he, 'I have sent for you, in consequence of certain
arrangements which are pending in this house, connected with a
'With a marriage!' gasped Hicks, compared with whose expression of
countenance, Hamlet's, when he sees his father's ghost, is pleasing
'With a marriage,' returned the knocker. 'I have sent for you to
prove the great confidence I can repose in you.'
'And will you betray me?' eagerly inquired Hicks, who in his alarm
had even forgotten to quote.
'_I_ betray YOU! Won't YOU betray ME?'
'Never: no one shall know, to my dying day, that you had a hand in
the business,' responded the agitated Hicks, with an inflamed
countenance, and his hair standing on end as if he were on the
stool of an electrifying machine in full operation.
'People must know that, some time or other--within a year, I
imagine,' said Mr. Calton, with an air of great self-complacency.
'We MAY have a family.'
'WE!--That won't affect you, surely?'
'The devil it won't!'
'No! how can it?' said the bewildered Hicks. Calton was too much
inwrapped in the contemplation of his happiness to see the
equivoque between Hicks and himself; and threw himself back in his
chair. 'Oh, Matilda!' sighed the antique beau, in a lack-a-
daisical voice, and applying his right hand a little to the left of
the fourth button of his waistcoat, counting from the bottom. 'Oh,
'What Matilda?' inquired Hicks, starting up.
'Matilda Maplesone,' responded the other, doing the same.
'I marry her to-morrow morning,' said Hicks.
'It's false,' rejoined his companion: 'I marry her!'
'You marry her?'
'I marry her!'
'You marry Matilda Maplesone?'
'MISS Maplesone marry YOU?'
'Miss Maplesone! No; Mrs. Maplesone.'
'Good Heaven!' said Hicks, falling into his chair: 'You marry the
mother, and I the daughter!'
'Most extraordinary circumstance!' replied Mr. Calton, 'and rather
inconvenient too; for the fact is, that owing to Matilda's wishing
to keep her intention secret from her daughters until the ceremony
had taken place, she doesn't like applying to any of her friends to
give her away. I entertain an objection to making the affair known
to my acquaintance just now; and the consequence is, that I sent to
you to know whether you'd oblige me by acting as father.'
'I should have been most happy, I assure you,' said Hicks, in a
tone of condolence; 'but, you see, I shall be acting as bridegroom.
One character is frequently a consequence of the other; but it is
not usual to act in both at the same time. There's Simpson--I have
no doubt he'll do it for you.'
'I don't like to ask him,' replied Calton, 'he's such a donkey.'
Mr. Septimus Hicks looked up at the ceiling, and down at the floor;
at last an idea struck him. 'Let the man of the house, Tibbs, be
the father,' he suggested; and then he quoted, as peculiarly
applicable to Tibbs and the pair -
'Oh Powers of Heaven! what dark eyes meets she there?
''Tis--'tis her father's--fixed upon the pair.'
'The idea has struck me already,' said Mr. Calton: 'but, you see,
Matilda, for what reason I know not, is very anxious that Mrs.
Tibbs should know nothing about it, till it's all over. It's a
natural delicacy, after all, you know.'
'He's the best-natured little man in existence, if you manage him
properly,' said Mr. Septimus Hicks. 'Tell him not to mention it to
his wife, and assure him she won't mind it, and he'll do it
directly. My marriage is to be a secret one, on account of the
mother and MY father; therefore he must be enjoined to secrecy.'
A small double knock, like a presumptuous single one, was that
instant heard at the street-door. It was Tibbs; it could be no one
else; for no one else occupied five minutes in rubbing his shoes.
He had been out to pay the baker's bill.
'Mr. Tibbs,' called Mr. Calton in a very bland tone, looking over
'Sir!' replied he of the dirty face.
'Will you have the kindness to step up-stairs for a moment?'
'Certainly, sir,' said Tibbs, delighted to be taken notice of. The
bedroom-door was carefully closed, and Tibbs, having put his hat on
the floor (as most timid men do), and been accommodated with a
seat, looked as astounded as if he were suddenly summoned before
the familiars of the Inquisition.
'A rather unpleasant occurrence, Mr. Tibbs,' said Calton, in a very
portentous manner, 'obliges me to consult you, and to beg you will
not communicate what I am about to say, to your wife.'
Tibbs acquiesced, wondering in his own mind what the deuce the
other could have done, and imagining that at least he must have
broken the best decanters.
Mr. Calton resumed; 'I am placed, Mr. Tibbs, in rather an
Tibbs looked at Mr. Septimus Hicks, as if he thought Mr. H.'s being
in the immediate vicinity of his fellow-boarder might constitute
the unpleasantness of his situation; but as he did not exactly know
what to say, he merely ejaculated the monosyllable 'Lor!'
'Now,' continued the knocker, 'let me beg you will exhibit no
manifestations of surprise, which may be overheard by the
domestics, when I tell you--command your feelings of astonishment--
that two inmates of this house intend to be married to-morrow
morning.' And he drew back his chair, several feet, to perceive
the effect of the unlooked-for announcement.
If Tibbs had rushed from the room, staggered down-stairs, and
fainted in the passage--if he had instantaneously jumped out of the
window into the mews behind the house, in an agony of surprise--his
behaviour would have been much less inexplicable to Mr. Calton than
it was, when he put his hands into his inexpressible-pockets, and
said with a half-chuckle, 'Just so.'
'You are not surprised, Mr. Tibbs?' inquired Mr. Calton.
'Bless you, no, sir,' returned Tibbs; 'after all, its very natural.
When two young people get together, you know--'
'Certainly, certainly,' said Calton, with an indescribable air of
'You don't think it's at all an out-of-the-way affair then?' asked
Mr. Septimus Hicks, who had watched the countenance of Tibbs in
'No, sir,' replied Tibbs; 'I was just the same at his age.' He
actually smiled when he said this.
'How devilish well I must carry my years!' thought the delighted
old beau, knowing he was at least ten years older than Tibbs at
'Well, then, to come to the point at once,' he continued, 'I have
to ask you whether you will object to act as father on the
'Certainly not,' replied Tibbs; still without evincing an atom of
'You will not?'
'Decidedly not,' reiterated Tibbs, still as calm as a pot of porter
with the head off.
Mr. Calton seized the hand of the petticoat-governed little man,
and vowed eternal friendship from that hour. Hicks, who was all
admiration and surprise, did the same.
'Now, confess,' asked Mr. Calton of Tibbs, as he picked up his hat,
'were you not a little surprised?'
'I b'lieve you!' replied that illustrious person, holding up one
hand; 'I b'lieve you! When I first heard of it.'
'So sudden,' said Septimus Hicks.
'So strange to ask ME, you know,' said Tibbs.
'So odd altogether!' said the superannuated love-maker; and then
all three laughed.
'I say,' said Tibbs, shutting the door which he had previously
opened, and giving full vent to a hitherto corked-up giggle, 'what
bothers me is, what WILL his father say?'
Mr. Septimus Hicks looked at Mr. Calton.
'Yes; but the best of it is,' said the latter, giggling in his
turn, 'I haven't got a father--he! he! he!'
'You haven't got a father. No; but HE has,' said Tibbs.
'WHO has?' inquired Septimus Hicks.
'Him, who? Do you know my secret? Do you mean me?'
'You! No; you know who I mean,' returned Tibbs with a knowing
'For Heaven's sake, whom do you mean?' inquired Mr. Calton, who,
like Septimus Hicks, was all but out of his senses at the strange
'Why Mr. Simpson, of course,' replied Tibbs; 'who else could I
'I see it all,' said the Byron-quoter; 'Simpson marries Julia
Maplesone to-morrow morning!'
'Undoubtedly,' replied Tibbs, thoroughly satisfied, 'of course he
It would require the pencil of Hogarth to illustrate--our feeble
pen is inadequate to describe--the expression which the
countenances of Mr. Calton and Mr. Septimus Hicks respectively
assumed, at this unexpected announcement. Equally impossible is it
to describe, although perhaps it is easier for our lady readers to
imagine, what arts the three ladies could have used, so completely
to entangle their separate partners. Whatever they were, however,
they were successful. The mother was perfectly aware of the
intended marriage of both daughters; and the young ladies were
equally acquainted with the intention of their estimable parent.
They agreed, however, that it would have a much better appearance
if each feigned ignorance of the other's engagement; and it was
equally desirable that all the marriages should take place on the
same day, to prevent the discovery of one clandestine alliance,
operating prejudicially on the others. Hence, the mystification of
Mr. Calton and Mr. Septimus Hicks, and the pre-engagement of the
On the following morning, Mr. Septimus Hicks was united to Miss
Matilda Maplesone. Mr. Simpson also entered into a 'holy alliance'
with Miss Julia; Tibbs acting as father, 'his first appearance in
that character.' Mr. Calton, not being quite so eager as the two
young men, was rather struck by the double discovery; and as he had
found some difficulty in getting any one to give the lady away, it
occurred to him that the best mode of obviating the inconvenience
would be not to take her at all. The lady, however, 'appealed,' as
her counsel said on the trial of the cause, Maplesone v. Calton,
for a breach of promise, 'with a broken heart, to the outraged laws
of her country.' She recovered damages to the amount of 1,000l.
which the unfortunate knocker was compelled to pay. Mr. Septimus
Hicks having walked the hospitals, took it into his head to walk
off altogether. His injured wife is at present residing with her
mother at Boulogne. Mr. Simpson, having the misfortune to lose his
wife six weeks after marriage (by her eloping with an officer
during his temporary sojourn in the Fleet Prison, in consequence of
his inability to discharge her little mantua-maker's bill), and
being disinherited by his father, who died soon afterwards, was
fortunate enough to obtain a permanent engagement at a fashionable
haircutter's; hairdressing being a science to which he had
frequently directed his attention. In this situation he had
necessarily many opportunities of making himself acquainted with
the habits, and style of thinking, of the exclusive portion of the
nobility of this kingdom. To this fortunate circumstance are we
indebted for the production of those brilliant efforts of genius,
his fashionable novels, which so long as good taste, unsullied by
exaggeration, cant, and quackery, continues to exist, cannot fail
to instruct and amuse the thinking portion of the community.
It only remains to add, that this complication of disorders
completely deprived poor Mrs. Tibbs of all her inmates, except the
one whom she could have best spared--her husband. That wretched
little man returned home, on the day of the wedding, in a state of
partial intoxication; and, under the influence of wine, excitement,
and despair, actually dared to brave the anger of his wife. Since
that ill-fated hour he has constantly taken his meals in the
kitchen, to which apartment, it is understood, his witticisms will
be in future confined: a turn-up bedstead having been conveyed
there by Mrs. Tibbs's order for his exclusive accommodation. It is
possible that he will be enabled to finish, in that seclusion, his
story of the volunteers.
The advertisement has again appeared in the morning papers.
Results must be reserved for another chapter.
CHAPTER THE SECOND.
'Well!' said little Mrs. Tibbs to herself, as she sat in the front
parlour of the Coram-street mansion one morning, mending a piece of
stair-carpet off the first Landings;--'Things have not turned out
so badly, either, and if I only get a favourable answer to the
advertisement, we shall be full again.'
Mrs. Tibbs resumed her occupation of making worsted lattice-work in
the carpet, anxiously listening to the twopenny postman, who was
hammering his way down the street, at the rate of a penny a knock.
The house was as quiet as possible. There was only one low sound
to be heard--it was the unhappy Tibbs cleaning the gentlemen's
boots in the back kitchen, and accompanying himself with a buzzing
noise, in wretched mockery of humming a tune.
The postman drew near the house. He paused--so did Mrs. Tibbs. A
knock--a bustle--a letter--post-paid.
'T. I. presents compt. to I. T. and T. I. begs To say that i see
the advertisement And she will Do Herself the pleasure of calling
On you at 12 o'clock to-morrow morning.
'T. I. as To apologise to I. T. for the shortness Of the notice But
i hope it will not unconvenience you.
'I remain yours Truly
Little Mrs. Tibbs perused the document, over and over again; and
the more she read it, the more was she confused by the mixture of
the first and third person; the substitution of the 'i' for the 'T.
I.;' and the transition from the 'I. T.' to the 'You.' The
writing looked like a skein of thread in a tangle, and the note was
ingeniously folded into a perfect square, with the direction
squeezed up into the right-hand corner, as if it were ashamed of
itself. The back of the epistle was pleasingly ornamented with a
large red wafer, which, with the addition of divers ink-stains,
bore a marvellous resemblance to a black beetle trodden upon. One
thing, however, was perfectly clear to the perplexed Mrs. Tibbs.
Somebody was to call at twelve. The drawing-room was forthwith
dusted for the third time that morning; three or four chairs were
pulled out of their places, and a corresponding number of books
carefully upset, in order that there might be a due absence of
formality. Down went the piece of stair-carpet before noticed, and
up ran Mrs. Tibbs 'to make herself tidy.'
The clock of New Saint Pancras Church struck twelve, and the
Foundling, with laudable politeness, did the same ten minutes
afterwards, Saint something else struck the quarter, and then there
arrived a single lady with a double knock, in a pelisse the colour
of the interior of a damson pie; a bonnet of the same, with a
regular conservatory of artificial flowers; a white veil, and a
green parasol, with a cobweb border.
The visitor (who was very fat and red-faced) was shown into the
drawing-room; Mrs. Tibbs presented herself, and the negotiation
'I called in consequence of an advertisement,' said the stranger,
in a voice as if she had been playing a set of Pan's pipes for a
fortnight without leaving off.
'Yes!' said Mrs. Tibbs, rubbing her hands very slowly, and looking
the applicant full in the face--two things she always did on such
'Money isn't no object whatever to me,' said the lady, 'so much as
living in a state of retirement and obtrusion.'
Mrs. Tibbs, as a matter of course, acquiesced in such an
exceedingly natural desire.
'I am constantly attended by a medical man,' resumed the pelisse
wearer; 'I have been a shocking unitarian for some time--I, indeed,
have had very little peace since the death of Mr. Bloss.'
Mrs. Tibbs looked at the relict of the departed Bloss, and thought
he must have had very little peace in his time. Of course she
could not say so; so she looked very sympathising.
'I shall be a good deal of trouble to you,' said Mrs. Bloss; 'but,
for that trouble I am willing to pay. I am going through a course
of treatment which renders attention necessary. I have one mutton-
chop in bed at half-past eight, and another at ten, every morning.'
Mrs. Tibbs, as in duty bound, expressed the pity she felt for
anybody placed in such a distressing situation; and the carnivorous
Mrs. Bloss proceeded to arrange the various preliminaries with
wonderful despatch. 'Now mind,' said that lady, after terms were
arranged; 'I am to have the second-floor front, for my bed-room?'
'And you'll find room for my little servant Agnes?'
'And I can have one of the cellars in the area for my bottled
'With the greatest pleasure;--James shall get it ready for you by
'And I'll join the company at the breakfast-table on Sunday
morning,' said Mrs. Bloss. 'I shall get up on purpose.'
'Very well,' returned Mrs. Tibbs, in her most amiable tone; for
satisfactory references had 'been given and required,' and it was
quite certain that the new-comer had plenty of money. 'It's rather
singular,' continued Mrs. Tibbs, with what was meant for a most
bewitching smile, 'that we have a gentleman now with us, who is in
a very delicate state of health--a Mr. Gobler.--His apartment is
the back drawing-room.'
'The next room?' inquired Mrs. Bloss.
'The next room,' repeated the hostess.
'How very promiscuous!' ejaculated the widow.
'He hardly ever gets up,' said Mrs. Tibbs in a whisper.
'Lor!' cried Mrs. Bloss, in an equally low tone.
'And when he is up,' said Mrs. Tibbs, 'we never can persuade him to
go to bed again.'
'Dear me!' said the astonished Mrs. Bloss, drawing her chair nearer
Mrs. Tibbs. 'What is his complaint?'
'Why, the fact is,' replied Mrs. Tibbs, with a most communicative
air, 'he has no stomach whatever.'
'No what?' inquired Mrs. Bloss, with a look of the most
'No stomach,' repeated Mrs. Tibbs, with a shake of the head.
'Lord bless us! what an extraordinary case!' gasped Mrs. Bloss, as
if she understood the communication in its literal sense, and was
astonished at a gentleman without a stomach finding it necessary to
'When I say he has no stomach,' explained the chatty little Mrs.
Tibbs, 'I mean that his digestion is so much impaired, and his
interior so deranged, that his stomach is not of the least use to
him;--in fact, it's an inconvenience.'
'Never heard such a case in my life!' exclaimed Mrs. Bloss. 'Why,
he's worse than I am.'
'Oh, yes!' replied Mrs. Tibbs;--'certainly.' She said this with
great confidence, for the damson pelisse suggested that Mrs. Bloss,
at all events, was not suffering under Mr. Gobler's complaint.
'You have quite incited my curiosity,' said Mrs. Bloss, as she rose
to depart. 'How I long to see him!'
'He generally comes down, once a week,' replied Mrs. Tibbs; 'I dare
say you'll see him on Sunday.' With this consolatory promise Mrs.
Bloss was obliged to be contented. She accordingly walked slowly
down the stairs, detailing her complaints all the way; and Mrs.
Tibbs followed her, uttering an exclamation of compassion at every
step. James (who looked very gritty, for he was cleaning the
knives) fell up the kitchen-stairs, and opened the street-door;
and, after mutual farewells, Mrs. Bloss slowly departed, down the
shady side of the street.
It is almost superfluous to say, that the lady whom we have just
shown out at the street-door (and whom the two female servants are
now inspecting from the second-floor windows) was exceedingly
vulgar, ignorant, and selfish. Her deceased better-half had been
an eminent cork-cutter, in which capacity he had amassed a decent
fortune. He had no relative but his nephew, and no friend but his
cook. The former had the insolence one morning to ask for the loan
of fifteen pounds; and, by way of retaliation, he married the
latter next day; he made a will immediately afterwards, containing
a burst of honest indignation against his nephew (who supported
himself and two sisters on 100l. a year), and a bequest of his
whole property to his wife. He felt ill after breakfast, and died
after dinner. There is a mantelpiece-looking tablet in a civic
parish church, setting forth his virtues, and deploring his loss.
He never dishonoured a bill, or gave away a halfpenny.
The relict and sole executrix of this noble-minded man was an odd
mixture of shrewdness and simplicity, liberality and meanness.
Bred up as she had been, she knew no mode of living so agreeable as
a boarding-house: and having nothing to do, and nothing to wish
for, she naturally imagined she must be ill--an impression which
was most assiduously promoted by her medical attendant, Dr. Wosky,
and her handmaid Agnes: both of whom, doubtless for good reasons,
encouraged all her extravagant notions.
Since the catastrophe recorded in the last chapter, Mrs. Tibbs had
been very shy of young-lady boarders. Her present inmates were all
lords of the creation, and she availed herself of the opportunity
of their assemblage at the dinner-table, to announce the expected
arrival of Mrs. Bloss. The gentlemen received the communication
with stoical indifference, and Mrs. Tibbs devoted all her energies
to prepare for the reception of the valetudinarian. The second-
floor front was scrubbed, and washed, and flannelled, till the wet
went through to the drawing-room ceiling. Clean white
counterpanes, and curtains, and napkins, water-bottles as clear as
crystal, blue jugs, and mahogany furniture, added to the splendour,
and increased the comfort, of the apartment. The warming-pan was
in constant requisition, and a fire lighted in the room every day.
The chattels of Mrs. Bloss were forwarded by instalments. First,
there came a large hamper of Guinness's stout, and an umbrella;
then, a train of trunks; then, a pair of clogs and a bandbox; then,
an easy chair with an air-cushion; then, a variety of suspicious-
looking packages; and--'though last not least'--Mrs. Bloss and
Agnes: the latter in a cherry-coloured merino dress, open-work
stockings, and shoes with sandals: like a disguised Columbine.
The installation of the Duke of Wellington, as Chancellor of the
University of Oxford, was nothing, in point of bustle and turmoil,
to the installation of Mrs. Bloss in her new quarters. True, there
was no bright doctor of civil law to deliver a classical address on
the occasion; but there were several other old women present, who
spoke quite as much to the purpose, and understood themselves
equally well. The chop-eater was so fatigued with the process of
removal that she declined leaving her room until the following
morning; so a mutton-chop, pickle, a pill, a pint bottle of stout,
and other medicines, were carried up-stairs for her consumption.
'Why, what DO you think, ma'am?' inquired the inquisitive Agnes of
her mistress, after they had been in the house some three hours;
'what DO you think, ma'am? the lady of the house is married.'
'Married!' said Mrs. Bloss, taking the pill and a draught of
'She is indeed, ma'am,' returned the Columbine; 'and her husband,
ma'am, lives--he--he--he--lives in the kitchen, ma'am.'
'In the kitchen!'
'Yes, ma'am: and he--he--he--the housemaid says, he never goes
into the parlour except on Sundays; and that Ms. Tibbs makes him
clean the gentlemen's boots; and that he cleans the windows, too,
sometimes; and that one morning early, when he was in the front
balcony cleaning the drawing-room windows, he called out to a
gentleman on the opposite side of the way, who used to live here--
"Ah! Mr. Calton, sir, how are you?"' Here the attendant laughed
till Mrs. Bloss was in serious apprehension of her chuckling
herself into a fit.
'Well, I never!' said Mrs. Bloss.
'Yes. And please, ma'am, the servants gives him gin-and-water
sometimes; and then he cries, and says he hates his wife and the
boarders, and wants to tickle them.'
'Tickle the boarders!' exclaimed Mrs. Bloss, seriously alarmed.
'No, ma'am, not the boarders, the servants.'
'Oh, is that all!' said Mrs. Bloss, quite satisfied.
'He wanted to kiss me as I came up the kitchen-stairs, just now,'
said Agnes, indignantly; 'but I gave it him--a little wretch!'
This intelligence was but too true. A long course of snubbing and
neglect; his days spent in the kitchen, and his nights in the turn-
up bedstead, had completely broken the little spirit that the
unfortunate volunteer had ever possessed. He had no one to whom he
could detail his injuries but the servants, and they were almost of
necessity his chosen confidants. It is no less strange than true,
however, that the little weaknesses which he had incurred, most
probably during his military career, seemed to increase as his
comforts diminished. He was actually a sort of journeyman Giovanni
of the basement story.
The next morning, being Sunday, breakfast was laid in the front
parlour at ten o'clock. Nine was the usual time, but the family
always breakfasted an hour later on sabbath. Tibbs enrobed himself
in his Sunday costume--a black coat, and exceedingly short, thin
trousers; with a very large white waistcoat, white stockings and
cravat, and Blucher boots--and mounted to the parlour aforesaid.
Nobody had come down, and he amused himself by drinking the
contents of the milkpot with a teaspoon.
A pair of slippers were heard descending the stairs. Tibbs flew to
a chair; and a stern-looking man, of about fifty, with very little
hair on his head, and a Sunday paper in his hand, entered the room.
'Good morning, Mr. Evenson,' said Tibbs, very humbly, with
something between a nod and a bow.
'How do you do, Mr. Tibbs?' replied he of the slippers, as he sat
himself down, and began to read his paper without saying another
'Is Mr. Wisbottle in town to-day, do you know, sir?' inquired
Tibbs, just for the sake of saying something.
'I should think he was,' replied the stern gentleman. 'He was
whistling "The Light Guitar," in the next room to mine, at five
o'clock this morning.'
'He's very fond of whistling,' said Tibbs, with a slight smirk.
'Yes--I ain't,' was the laconic reply.
Mr. John Evenson was in the receipt of an independent income,
arising chiefly from various houses he owned in the different
suburbs. He was very morose and discontented. He was a thorough
radical, and used to attend a great variety of public meetings, for
the express purpose of finding fault with everything that was
proposed. Mr. Wisbottle, on the other hand, was a high Tory. He
was a clerk in the Woods and Forests Office, which he considered
rather an aristocratic employment; he knew the peerage by heart,
and, could tell you, off-hand, where any illustrious personage
lived. He had a good set of teeth, and a capital tailor. Mr.
Evenson looked on all these qualifications with profound contempt;
and the consequence was that the two were always disputing, much to
the edification of the rest of the house. It should be added,
that, in addition to his partiality for whistling, Mr. Wisbottle
had a great idea of his singing powers. There were two other
boarders, besides the gentleman in the back drawing-room--Mr.
Alfred Tomkins and Mr. Frederick O'Bleary. Mr. Tomkins was a clerk
in a wine-house; he was a connoisseur in paintings, and had a
wonderful eye for the picturesque. Mr. O'Bleary was an Irishman,
recently imported; he was in a perfectly wild state; and had come
over to England to be an apothecary, a clerk in a government
office, an actor, a reporter, or anything else that turned up--he
was not particular. He was on familiar terms with two small Irish
members, and got franks for everybody in the house. He felt
convinced that his intrinsic merits must procure him a high
destiny. He wore shepherd's-plaid inexpressibles, and used to look
under all the ladies' bonnets as he walked along the streets. His
manners and appearance reminded one of Orson.
'Here comes Mr. Wisbottle,' said Tibbs; and Mr. Wisbottle forthwith
appeared in blue slippers, and a shawl dressing-gown, whistling 'Di
'Good morning, sir,' said Tibbs again. It was almost the only
thing he ever said to anybody
'How are you, Tibbs?' condescendingly replied the amateur; and he
walked to the window, and whistled louder than ever.
'Pretty air, that!' said Evenson, with a snarl, and without taking
his eyes off the paper.
'Glad you like it,' replied Wisbottle, highly gratified.
'Don't you think it would sound better, if you whistled it a little
louder?' inquired the mastiff.
'No; I don't think it would,' rejoined the unconscious Wisbottle.
'I'll tell you what, Wisbottle,' said Evenson, who had been
bottling up his anger for some hours--'the next time you feel
disposed to whistle "The Light Guitar" at five o'clock in the
morning, I'll trouble you to whistle it with your head out o'
window. If you don't, I'll learn the triangle--I will, by--'
The entrance of Mrs. Tibbs (with the keys in a little basket)
interrupted the threat, and prevented its conclusion.
Mrs. Tibbs apologised for being down rather late; the bell was
rung; James brought up the urn, and received an unlimited order for
dry toast and bacon. Tibbs sat down at the bottom of the table,
and began eating water-cresses like a Nebuchadnezzar. Mr. O'Bleary
appeared, and Mr. Alfred Tomkins. The compliments of the morning
were exchanged, and the tea was made.
'God bless me!' exclaimed Tomkins, who had been looking out at the
window. 'Here--Wisbottle--pray come here--make haste.'
Mr. Wisbottle started from the table, and every one looked up.
'Do you see,' said the connoisseur, placing Wisbottle in the right
position--'a little more this way: there--do you see how
splendidly the light falls upon the left side of that broken
chimney-pot at No. 48?'
'Dear me! I see,' replied Wisbottle, in a tone of admiration.
'I never saw an object stand out so beautifully against the clear
sky in my life,' ejaculated Alfred. Everybody (except John
Evenson) echoed the sentiment; for Mr. Tomkins had a great
character for finding out beauties which no one else could
discover--he certainly deserved it.
'I have frequently observed a chimney-pot in College-green, Dublin,
which has a much better effect,' said the patriotic O'Bleary, who
never allowed Ireland to be outdone on any point.
The assertion was received with obvious incredulity, for Mr.
Tomkins declared that no other chimney-pot in the United Kingdom,
broken or unbroken, could be so beautiful as the one at No. 48.
The room-door was suddenly thrown open, and Agnes appeared, leading
in Mrs. Bloss, who was dressed in a geranium-coloured muslin gown,
and displayed a gold watch of huge dimensions; a chain to match;
and a splendid assortment of rings, with enormous stones. A
general rush was made for a chair, and a regular introduction took
place. Mr. John Evenson made a slight inclination of the head; Mr.
Frederick O'Bleary, Mr. Alfred Tomkins, and Mr. Wisbottle, bowed
like the mandarins in a grocer's shop; Tibbs rubbed hands, and went
round in circles. He was observed to close one eye, and to assume
a clock-work sort of expression with the other; this has been
considered as a wink, and it has been reported that Agnes was its
object. We repel the calumny, and challenge contradiction.
Mrs. Tibbs inquired after Mrs. Bloss's health in a low tone. Mrs.
Bloss, with a supreme contempt for the memory of Lindley Murray,
answered the various questions in a most satisfactory manner; and a
pause ensued, during which the eatables disappeared with awful
'You must have been very much pleased with the appearance of the
ladies going to the Drawing-room the other day, Mr. O'Bleary?' said
Mrs. Tibbs, hoping to start a topic.
'Yes,' replied Orson, with a mouthful of toast.
'Never saw anything like it before, I suppose?' suggested
'No--except the Lord Lieutenant's levees,' replied O'Bleary.
'Are they at all equal to our drawing-rooms?'
'Oh, infinitely superior!'
'Gad! I don't know,' said the aristocratic Wisbottle, 'the Dowager
Marchioness of Publiccash was most magnificently dressed, and so
was the Baron Slappenbachenhausen.'
'What was he presented on?' inquired Evenson.
'On his arrival in England.'
'I thought so,' growled the radical; 'you never hear of these
fellows being presented on their going away again. They know
better than that.'
'Unless somebody pervades them with an apintment,' said Mrs. Bloss,
joining in the conversation in a faint voice.
'Well,' said Wisbottle, evading the point, 'it's a splendid sight.'
'And did it never occur to you,' inquired the radical, who never
would be quiet; 'did it never occur to you, that you pay for these
precious ornaments of society?'
'It certainly HAS occurred to me,' said Wisbottle, who thought this
answer was a poser; 'it HAS occurred to me, and I am willing to pay
'Well, and it has occurred to me too,' replied John Evenson, 'and I
ain't willing to pay for 'em. Then why should I?--I say, why
should I?' continued the politician, laying down the paper, and
knocking his knuckles on the table. 'There are two great
'A cup of tea if you please, dear,' interrupted Tibbs.
'May I trouble you to hand this tea to Mr. Tibbs?' said Mrs. Tibbs,
interrupting the argument, and unconsciously illustrating it.
The thread of the orator's discourse was broken. He drank his tea
and resumed the paper.
'If it's very fine,' said Mr. Alfred Tomkins, addressing the
company in general, 'I shall ride down to Richmond to-day, and come
back by the steamer. There are some splendid effects of light and
shade on the Thames; the contrast between the blueness of the sky
and the yellow water is frequently exceedingly beautiful.' Mr.
Wisbottle hummed, 'Flow on, thou shining river.'
'We have some splendid steam-vessels in Ireland,' said O'Bleary.
'Certainly,' said Mrs. Bloss, delighted to find a subject broached
in which she could take part.
'The accommodations are extraordinary,' said O'Bleary.
'Extraordinary indeed,' returned Mrs. Bloss. 'When Mr. Bloss was
alive, he was promiscuously obligated to go to Ireland on business.
I went with him, and raly the manner in which the ladies and
gentlemen were accommodated with berths, is not creditable.'
Tibbs, who had been listening to the dialogue, looked aghast, and
evinced a strong inclination to ask a question, but was checked by
a look from his wife. Mr. Wisbottle laughed, and said Tomkins had
made a pun; and Tomkins laughed too, and said he had not.
The remainder of the meal passed off as breakfasts usually do.
Conversation flagged, and people played with their teaspoons. The
gentlemen looked out at the window; walked about the room; and,
when they got near the door, dropped off one by one. Tibbs retired
to the back parlour by his wife's orders, to check the green-
grocer's weekly account; and ultimately Mrs. Tibbs and Mrs. Bloss
were left alone together.
'Oh dear!' said the latter, 'I feel alarmingly faint; it's very
singular.' (It certainly was, for she had eaten four pounds of
solids that morning.) 'By-the-bye,' said Mrs. Bloss, 'I have not
seen Mr. What's-his-name yet.'
'Mr. Gobler?' suggested Mrs. Tibbs.
'Oh!' said Mrs. Tibbs, 'he is a most mysterious person. He has his
meals regularly sent up-stairs, and sometimes don't leave his room
for weeks together.'
'I haven't seen or heard nothing of him,' repeated Mrs. Bloss.
'I dare say you'll hear him to-night,' replied Mrs. Tibbs; 'he
generally groans a good deal on Sunday evenings.'
'I never felt such an interest in any one in my life,' ejaculated
Mrs. Bloss. A little double-knock interrupted the conversation;
Dr. Wosky was announced, and duly shown in. He was a little man
with a red face--dressed of course in black, with a stiff white
neckerchief. He had a very good practice, and plenty of money,
which he had amassed by invariably humouring the worst fancies of
all the females of all the families he had ever been introduced
into. Mrs. Tibbs offered to retire, but was entreated to stay.
'Well, my dear ma'am, and how are we?' inquired Wosky, in a
'Very ill, doctor--very ill,' said Mrs. Bloss, in a whisper
'Ah! we must take care of ourselves;--we must, indeed,' said the
obsequious Wosky, as he felt the pulse of his interesting patient.
'How is our appetite?'
Mrs. Bloss shook her head.
'Our friend requires great care,' said Wosky, appealing to Mrs.
Tibbs, who of course assented. 'I hope, however, with the blessing
of Providence, that we shall be enabled to make her quite stout
again.' Mrs. Tibbs wondered in her own mind what the patient would
be when she was made quite stout.
'We must take stimulants,' said the cunning Wosky--'plenty of
nourishment, and, above all, we must keep our nerves quiet; we
positively must not give way to our sensibilities. We must take
all we can get,' concluded the doctor, as he pocketed his fee, 'and
we must keep quiet.'
'Dear man!' exclaimed Mrs. Bloss, as the doctor stepped into the
'Charming creature indeed--quite a lady's man!' said Mrs. Tibbs,
and Dr. Wosky rattled away to make fresh gulls of delicate females,
and pocket fresh fees.
As we had occasion, in a former paper, to describe a dinner at Mrs.
Tibbs's; and as one meal went off very like another on all ordinary
occasions; we will not fatigue our readers by entering into any
other detailed account of the domestic economy of the
establishment. We will therefore proceed to events, merely
premising that the mysterious tenant of the back drawing-room was a
lazy, selfish hypochondriac; always complaining and never ill. As
his character in many respects closely assimilated to that of Mrs.
Bloss, a very warm friendship soon sprung up between them. He was
tall, thin, and pale; he always fancied he had a severe pain
somewhere or other, and his face invariably wore a pinched,
screwed-up expression; he looked, indeed, like a man who had got
his feet in a tub of exceedingly hot water, against his will.
For two or three months after Mrs. Bloss's first appearance in
Coram-street, John Evenson was observed to become, every day, more
sarcastic and more ill-natured; and there was a degree of
additional importance in his manner, which clearly showed that he
fancied he had discovered something, which he only wanted a proper
opportunity of divulging. He found it at last.
One evening, the different inmates of the house were assembled in
the drawing-room engaged in their ordinary occupations. Mr. Gobler
and Mrs. Bloss were sitting at a small card-table near the centre
window, playing cribbage; Mr. Wisbottle was describing semicircles
on the music-stool, turning over the leaves of a book on the piano,
and humming most melodiously; Alfred Tomkins was sitting at the
round table, with his elbows duly squared, making a pencil sketch
of a head considerably larger than his own; O'Bleary was reading
Horace, and trying to look as if he understood it; and John Evenson
had drawn his chair close to Mrs. Tibbs's work-table, and was
talking to her very earnestly in a low tone.
'I can assure you, Mrs. Tibbs,' said the radical, laying his
forefinger on the muslin she was at work on; 'I can assure you,
Mrs. Tibbs, that nothing but the interest I take in your welfare
would induce me to make this communication. I repeat, I fear
Wisbottle is endeavouring to gain the affections of that young
woman, Agnes, and that he is in the habit of meeting her in the
store-room on the first floor, over the leads. From my bedroom I
distinctly heard voices there, last night. I opened my door
immediately, and crept very softly on to the landing; there I saw
Mr. Tibbs, who, it seems, had been disturbed also.--Bless me, Mrs.
Tibbs, you change colour!'
'No, no--it's nothing,' returned Mrs. T. in a hurried manner; 'it's
only the heat of the room.'
'A flush!' ejaculated Mrs. Bloss from the card-table; 'that's good
'If I thought it was Mr. Wisbottle,' said Mrs. Tibbs, after a
pause, 'he should leave this house instantly.'
'Go!' said Mrs. Bloss again.
'And if I thought,' continued the hostess with a most threatening
air, 'if I thought he was assisted by Mr. Tibbs--'
'One for his nob!' said Gobler.
'Oh,' said Evenson, in a most soothing tone--he liked to make
mischief--'I should hope Mr. Tibbs was not in any way implicated.
He always appeared to me very harmless.'
'I have generally found him so,' sobbed poor little Mrs. Tibbs;
crying like a watering-pot.
'Hush! hush! pray--Mrs. Tibbs--consider--we shall be observed--
pray, don't!' said John Evenson, fearing his whole plan would be
interrupted. 'We will set the matter at rest with the utmost care,
and I shall be most happy to assist you in doing so.' Mrs. Tibbs
murmured her thanks.
'When you think every one has retired to rest to-night,' said
Evenson very pompously, 'if you'll meet me without a light, just
outside my bedroom door, by the staircase window, I think we can
ascertain who the parties really are, and you will afterwards be
enabled to proceed as you think proper.'
Mrs. Tibbs was easily persuaded; her curiosity was excited, her
jealousy was roused, and the arrangement was forthwith made. She
resumed her work, and John Evenson walked up and down the room with
his hands in his pockets, looking as if nothing had happened. The
game of cribbage was over, and conversation began again.
'Well, Mr. O'Bleary,' said the humming-top, turning round on his
pivot, and facing the company, 'what did you think of Vauxhall the
'Oh, it's very fair,' replied Orson, who had been enthusiastically
delighted with the whole exhibition.
'Never saw anything like that Captain Ross's set-out--eh?'
'No,' returned the patriot, with his usual reservation--'except in
'I saw the Count de Canky and Captain Fitzthompson in the Gardens,'
said Wisbottle; 'they appeared much delighted.'
'Then it MUST be beautiful,' snarled Evenson.
'I think the white bears is partickerlerly well done,' suggested
Mrs. Bloss. 'In their shaggy white coats, they look just like
Polar bears--don't you think they do, Mr. Evenson?'
'I think they look a great deal more like omnibus cads on all
fours,' replied the discontented one.
'Upon the whole, I should have liked our evening very well,' gasped
Gobler; 'only I caught a desperate cold which increased my pain
dreadfully! I was obliged to have several shower-baths, before I
could leave my room.'
'Capital things those shower-baths!' ejaculated Wisbottle.
'Excellent!' said Tomkins.
'Delightful!' chimed in O'Bleary. (He had once seen one, outside a
'Disgusting machines!' rejoined Evenson, who extended his dislike
to almost every created object, masculine, feminine, or neuter.
'Disgusting, Mr. Evenson!' said Gobler, in a tone of strong
indignation.--'Disgusting! Look at their utility--consider how
many lives they have saved by promoting perspiration.'
'Promoting perspiration, indeed,' growled John Evenson, stopping
short in his walk across the large squares in the pattern of the
carpet--'I was ass enough to be persuaded some time ago to have one
in my bedroom. 'Gad, I was in it once, and it effectually cured
ME, for the mere sight of it threw me into a profuse perspiration
for six months afterwards.'
A titter followed this announcement, and before it had subsided
James brought up 'the tray,' containing the remains of a leg of
lamb which had made its debut at dinner; bread; cheese; an atom of
butter in a forest of parsley; one pickled walnut and the third of
another; and so forth. The boy disappeared, and returned again
with another tray, containing glasses and jugs of hot and cold
water. The gentlemen brought in their spirit-bottles; the
housemaid placed divers plated bedroom candlesticks under the card-
table; and the servants retired for the night.
Chairs were drawn round the table, and the conversation proceeded
in the customary manner. John Evenson, who never ate supper,
lolled on the sofa, and amused himself by contradicting everybody.
O'Bleary ate as much as he could conveniently carry, and Mrs. Tibbs
felt a due degree of indignation thereat; Mr. Gobler and Mrs. Bloss
conversed most affectionately on the subject of pill-taking, and
other innocent amusements; and Tomkins and Wisbottle 'got into an
argument;' that is to say, they both talked very loudly and
vehemently, each flattering himself that he had got some advantage
about something, and neither of them having more than a very
indistinct idea of what they were talking about. An hour or two
passed away; and the boarders and the plated candlesticks retired
in pairs to their respective bedrooms. John Evenson pulled off his
boots, locked his door, and determined to sit up until Mr. Gobler
had retired. He always sat in the drawing-room an hour after
everybody else had left it, taking medicine, and groaning.
Great Coram-street was hushed into a state of profound repose: it
was nearly two o'clock. A hackney-coach now and then rumbled
slowly by; and occasionally some stray lawyer's clerk, on his way
home to Somers-town, struck his iron heel on the top of the coal-
cellar with a noise resembling the click of a smoke-Jack. A low,
monotonous, gushing sound was heard, which added considerably to
the romantic dreariness of the scene. It was the water 'coming in'
at number eleven.
'He must be asleep by this time,' said John Evenson to himself,
after waiting with exemplary patience for nearly an hour after Mr.
Gobler had left the drawing-room. He listened for a few moments;
the house was perfectly quiet; he extinguished his rushlight, and
opened his bedroom door. The staircase was so dark that it was
impossible to see anything.
'S-s-s!' whispered the mischief-maker, making a noise like the
first indication a catherine-wheel gives of the probability of its
'Hush!' whispered somebody else.
'Is that you, Mrs. Tibbs?'
'Here;' and the misty outline of Mrs. Tibbs appeared at the
staircase window, like the ghost of Queen Anne in the tent scene in
'This way, Mrs. Tibbs,' whispered the delighted busybody: 'give me
your hand--there! Whoever these people are, they are in the store-
room now, for I have been looking down from my window, and I could
see that they accidentally upset their candlestick, and are now in
darkness. You have no shoes on, have you?'
'No,' said little Mrs. Tibbs, who could hardly speak for trembling.
'Well; I have taken my boots off, so we can go down, close to the
store-room door, and listen over the banisters;' and down-stairs
they both crept accordingly, every board creaking like a patent
mangle on a Saturday afternoon.
'It's Wisbottle and somebody, I'll swear,' exclaimed the radical in
an energetic whisper, when they had listened for a few moments.
'Hush--pray let's hear what they say!' exclaimed Mrs. Tibbs, the
gratification of whose curiosity was now paramount to every other
'Ah! if I could but believe you,' said a female voice coquettishly,
'I'd be bound to settle my missis for life.'
'What does she say?' inquired Mr. Evenson, who was not quite so
well situated as his companion.
'She says she'll settle her missis's life,' replied Mrs. Tibbs.
'The wretch! they're plotting murder.'
'I know you want money,' continued the voice, which belonged to
Agnes; 'and if you'd secure me the five hundred pound, I warrant
she should take fire soon enough.'
'What's that?' inquired Evenson again. He could just hear enough
to want to hear more.
'I think she says she'll set the house on fire,' replied the
affrighted Mrs. Tibbs. 'But thank God I'm insured in the Phoenix!'
'The moment I have secured your mistress, my dear,' said a man's
voice in a strong Irish brogue, 'you may depend on having the
'Bless my soul, it's Mr. O'Bleary!' exclaimed Mrs. Tibbs, in a
'The villain!' said the indignant Mr. Evenson.
'The first thing to be done,' continued the Hibernian, 'is to
poison Mr. Gobler's mind.'
'Oh, certainly,' returned Agnes.
'What's that?' inquired Evenson again, in an agony of curiosity and
'He says she's to mind and poison Mr. Gobler,' replied Mrs. Tibbs,
aghast at this sacrifice of human life.
'And in regard of Mrs. Tibbs,' continued O'Bleary.--Mrs. Tibbs
'Hush!' exclaimed Agnes, in a tone of the greatest alarm, just as
Mrs. Tibbs was on the extreme verge of a fainting fit. 'Hush!'
'Hush!' exclaimed Evenson, at the same moment to Mrs. Tibbs.
'There's somebody coming UP-stairs,' said Agnes to O'Bleary.
'There's somebody coming DOWN-stairs,' whispered Evenson to Mrs.
'Go into the parlour, sir,' said Agnes to her companion. 'You will
get there, before whoever it is, gets to the top of the kitchen
'The drawing-room, Mrs. Tibbs!' whispered the astonished Evenson to
his equally astonished companion; and for the drawing-room they
both made, plainly hearing the rustling of two persons, one coming
down-stairs, and one coming up.
'What can it be?' exclaimed Mrs. Tibbs. 'It's like a dream. I
wouldn't be found in this situation for the world!'
'Nor I,' returned Evenson, who could never bear a joke at his own
expense. 'Hush! here they are at the door.'
'What fun!' whispered one of the new-comers.--It was Wisbottle.
'Glorious!' replied his companion, in an equally low tone.--This
was Alfred Tomkins. 'Who would have thought it?'
'I told you so,' said Wisbottle, in a most knowing whisper. 'Lord
bless you, he has paid her most extraordinary attention for the
last two months. I saw 'em when I was sitting at the piano to-
'Well, do you know I didn't notice it?' interrupted Tomkins.
'Not notice it!' continued Wisbottle. 'Bless you; I saw him
whispering to her, and she crying; and then I'll swear I heard him
say something about to-night when we were all in bed.'
'They're talking of US!' exclaimed the agonised Mrs. Tibbs, as the
painful suspicion, and a sense of their situation, flashed upon her
'I know it--I know it,' replied Evenson, with a melancholy
consciousness that there was no mode of escape.
'What's to be done? we cannot both stop here!' ejaculated Mrs.
Tibbs, in a state of partial derangement.
'I'll get up the chimney,' replied Evenson, who really meant what
'You can't,' said Mrs. Tibbs, in despair. 'You can't--it's a
'Hush!' repeated John Evenson.
'Hush--hush!' cried somebody down-stairs.
'What a d-d hushing!' said Alfred Tomkins, who began to get rather
'There they are!' exclaimed the sapient Wisbottle, as a rustling
noise was heard in the store-room.
'Hark!' whispered both the young men.
'Hark!' repeated Mrs. Tibbs and Evenson.
'Let me alone, sir,' said a female voice in the store-room.
'Oh, Hagnes!' cried another voice, which clearly belonged to Tibbs,
for nobody else ever owned one like it, 'Oh, Hagnes--lovely
'Be quiet, sir!' (A bounce.)
'Be quiet, sir--I am ashamed of you. Think of your wife, Mr.
Tibbs. Be quiet, sir!'
'My wife!' exclaimed the valorous Tibbs, who was clearly under the
influence of gin-and-water, and a misplaced attachment; 'I ate her!
Oh, Hagnes! when I was in the volunteer corps, in eighteen hundred
'I declare I'll scream. Be quiet, sir, will you?' (Another bounce
and a scuffle.)
'What's that?' exclaimed Tibbs, with a start.
'What's what?' said Agnes, stopping short.
'Ah! you have done it nicely now, sir,' sobbed the frightened
Agnes, as a tapping was heard at Mrs. Tibbs's bedroom door, which
would have beaten any dozen woodpeckers hollow.
'Mrs. Tibbs! Mrs. Tibbs!' called out Mrs. Bloss. 'Mrs. Tibbs,
pray get up.' (Here the imitation of a woodpecker was resumed with
'Oh, dear--dear!' exclaimed the wretched partner of the depraved
Tibbs. 'She's knocking at my door. We must be discovered! What
will they think?'
'Mrs. Tibbs! Mrs. Tibbs!' screamed the woodpecker again.
'What's the matter!' shouted Gobler, bursting out of the back
drawing-room, like the dragon at Astley's.
'Oh, Mr. Gobler!' cried Mrs. Bloss, with a proper approximation to
hysterics; 'I think the house is on fire, or else there's thieves
in it. I have heard the most dreadful noises!'
'The devil you have!' shouted Gobler again, bouncing back into his
den, in happy imitation of the aforesaid dragon, and returning
immediately with a lighted candle. 'Why, what's this? Wisbottle!
Tomkins! O'Bleary! Agnes! What the deuce! all up and dressed?'
'Astonishing!' said Mrs. Bloss, who had run down-stairs, and taken
Mr. Gobler's arm.
'Call Mrs. Tibbs directly, somebody,' said Gobler, turning into the
front drawing-room.--'What! Mrs. Tibbs and Mr. Evenson!!'
'Mrs. Tibbs and Mr. Evenson!' repeated everybody, as that unhappy
pair were discovered: Mrs. Tibbs seated in an arm-chair by the
fireplace, and Mr. Evenson standing by her side,
We must leave the scene that ensued to the reader's imagination.
We could tell, how Mrs. Tibbs forthwith fainted away, and how it
required the united strength of Mr. Wisbottle and Mr. Alfred
Tomkins to hold her in her chair; how Mr. Evenson explained, and
how his explanation was evidently disbelieved; how Agnes repelled
the accusations of Mrs. Tibbs by proving that she was negotiating
with Mr. O'Bleary to influence her mistress's affections in his
behalf; and how Mr. Gobler threw a damp counterpane on the hopes of
Mr. O'Bleary by avowing that he (Gobler) had already proposed to,
and been accepted by, Mrs. Bloss; how Agnes was discharged from
that lady's service; how Mr. O'Bleary discharged himself from Mrs.
Tibbs's house, without going through the form of previously
discharging his bill; and how that disappointed young gentleman
rails against England and the English, and vows there is no virtue
or fine feeling extant, 'except in Ireland.' We repeat that we
COULD tell all this, but we love to exercise our self-denial, and
we therefore prefer leaving it to be imagined.
The lady whom we have hitherto described as Mrs. Bloss, is no more.
Mrs. Gobler exists: Mrs. Bloss has left us for ever. In a
secluded retreat in Newington Butts, far, far removed from the
noisy strife of that great boarding-house, the world, the enviable
Gobler and his pleasing wife revel in retirement: happy in their
complaints, their table, and their medicine, wafted through life by
the grateful prayers of all the purveyors of animal food within
three miles round.
We would willingly stop here, but we have a painful duty imposed
upon us, which we must discharge. Mr. and Mrs. Tibbs have
separated by mutual consent, Mrs. Tibbs receiving one moiety of
43l. 15s. 10d., which we before stated to be the amount of her
husband's annual income, and Mr. Tibbs the other. He is spending
the evening of his days in retirement; and he is spending also,
annually, that small but honourable independence. He resides among
the original settlers at Walworth; and it has been stated, on
unquestionable authority, that the conclusion of the volunteer
story has been heard in a small tavern in that respectable
The unfortunate Mrs. Tibbs has determined to dispose of the whole
of her furniture by public auction, and to retire from a residence
in which she has suffered so much. Mr. Robins has been applied to,
to conduct the sale, and the transcendent abilities of the literary
gentlemen connected with his establishment are now devoted to the
task of drawing up the preliminary advertisement. It is to
contain, among a variety of brilliant matter, seventy-eight words
in large capitals, and six original quotations in inverted commas.
Sorry, no summary available yet.