CHAPTER THE LAST.

“Wi’ sic thoughts i’ my mind,Time thro’ the warl may gae,And find me still, in twenty years,The same as I’m to-day:’Tis friendship bears the sway,And keeps friends i’ the e’e;And gin I think I see thee still,Wha can part thee and me?”Song, by Miss Blamire.

“Wi’ sic thoughts i’ my mind,

Time thro’ the warl may gae,

And find me still, in twenty years,

The same as I’m to-day:

’Tis friendship bears the sway,

And keeps friends i’ the e’e;

And gin I think I see thee still,

Wha can part thee and me?”

Song, by Miss Blamire.

Ina few moments the Sandboys and Major Oldschool were safe on board the penny “Bee,” steaming along the Thames towards the Westminster pier.

The Major, who had found it impossible, with his artificial leg, to keep up with the ladies, had availed himself of the circumstance of his being left alone with Cursty, to paint a vivid picture (as they hobbled through Hungerford Market) of the solitary state of his household, and the horrors of a life dependent for its comforts and enjoyments on the tender mercies of a selfish old housekeeper, expatiating in the meantime on the sufficiency of his funds to maintain a wife in ease, if not in luxury; and winding up with a modest eulogium as to the amiability of his temper—the domesticity of his habits—and his cat-like love of a quiet hearth.

Mr. Sandboys had just inquired how it was—if such were the bent of his inclinations—that he remained in a state of wretched bachelorhood; and the Major had just answered that it was the very thing he wished to speak to him about, when a shrill voice suddenly shouted, “Pay here for the ‘Bee,’ gents! pay here!”

The demand having been complied with, the Major, immediately he was on board the penny steamer, sought out a retired spot where he might continue the delicate subject of their previous conversation, and perceiving that the most quiet part of the vessel was immediately adjoining the line of demarcation between the lovers and the haters of the “fragrant weed,” drew his friend Cursty towards the gangway: leaning their backs against the funnel, the couple resumed the tender topic which had recently engaged them.

As the “Bee” went buzzing over the water, the Major made the father of Elcy his own father-confessor as to the state of his bosom at that particular moment, declaring the object of his affection to be none other than that gentleman’s daughter.

The simple and unobservant, because unsuspicious, Cursty was nearly taken off his nautical legs by the announcement: but referring the Major to Elcy herself for an answer, he confessed that, provided she saw no cause or impediment, &c., he himself would not be the man to forbid the banns; whereupon they both grew so interested in the “momentous question”—the Major intent on making the most of his qualifications for a good husband, and descanting rapturously on Miss Elcy’s possession of all the requisites for a good wife, and Cursty Sandboys lost in the pleasure of listening to the praises of his child—that, though the heat of the funnel at their backs was almost sufficient to cook an omelette, it was utterly unheeded by them.

The Dispersion of the Works of all Nations From the great Exhibition of 1851

Now, gutta percha is a most admirable material, especially adapted for boats, ropes, and other commodities to be used in the Arctic regions; but, unfortunately, it has the slight drawback of softening like “hardbake” at a high temperature, and consequently it isnot particularlysuited for firemen’s helmets, owing to its liability to run down the faces of the “brigade” like treacle, when exposed to a “terrific conflagration;” nor is it especially adapted to the manufacture of shaving-pots, seeing that the infusion of the boiling water is certain to elongate the vessel into something approximating the form and appearance of a huge German sausage; and wehaveknown candlesticks made of the treacherous “gutta”gutteraway with the expiring “stearine” until nothing was left of the antique candelabrum but a leathery pancake on the tablecloth; picture-frames, too, composed of the same uncertain substance have been found, in the dog-days, to suffer almost as much as aldermen from the extreme heat of the weather, and to grow as limp and bendy at the joints as an acrobat, while the cornices ran down into a series of chocolate-coloured stalactites. Nor is the soluble stuff better adapted to the formation of harness, for gutta percha traces have been occasionally seen, when the thermometer stood at 80° in the shade, to elongate like vulcanized India-rubber, and to leave the vehicle a considerable distance behind the horse which was supposed to be drawing it, while the whip which was intended for the flagellation of the animal has gone as soft as a lollipop, and of no more service than a straw; and to this catalogue of commodities unfitted to be manufactured in gutta percha still one other article must be added, and that is—as an Irishman would say—wooden legs; for though legs are intended to run as well as to walk, it is somewhat inconvenient to find them, on the least increase of temperature, run away altogether, and the limb which was meant as a crutchlike support give way, for all the world as though the wearer had become suddenly afflicted with the “rickets,” his gutta percha leg gradually bending in or bulging out, like a barley-sugar bird-cage at an evening party.

Presently the tender thread of Major Oldschool’s discourse was rudely snapped asunder by a kind of echo duet performed by the captain of the “Busy Bee” in deep bass, and the call-boy in shrill treble, the burden of which was—“ease her!ease her!—back her!back her!—stop her!stop her!”—and then bump went the vessel against the Westminster pier, making the barge wabble on the water like a yeast dumpling in a saucepan.

Until this moment the Major, whose back had been resting against the funnel, had not attempted to stir a foot, and no sooner was he roused from his reverie by the cry of “Now, then, any one for Westminster?” than, seizing Mr. Sandboys by the arm, he cried, “Here we are. Come along, quick! or we shall be carried off to Chelsea;” and made a desperate effort to reach the plank that connected the “Bee” with the pier; but no sooner did he trust the weight of his body to the treacherous gutta percha limb, which the heat of the funnel had by this time rendered as limp as a stale sugar-stick in a confectioner’s window, than it bent under him like a soldier’s penny cane, and down went the Major on his side, dragging the terrified Cursty along with him.

The Major was so unprepared for the mishap, that he was utterly unaware of the cause of his sudden fall, until, on attempting to get up, and trusting once more to his “gummy” leg, he was again precipitated on top of the bewildered Cursty, before that gentleman had time to rise. On looking to the state of his new limb, however, the problem was speedily solved, for he found that his gutta percha calf, softened by the heat of the funnel, had run into his boot, while his artificial ankle had swollen into a “model gout,” while what was originally the thick part of the leg, had been attenuated into a mere tendon, no thicker than a harp-string.

Major Oldschool raved at all new-fangled inventions, and vowed as he clasped his head with vexation, that there was nothing like wood, after all, and called himself an idiot for allowing himself to be talked into any such “tomfoolery,” while the passengers laughed violently at the catastrophe; and even the Sandboys, vexed as they felt at the further postponement of their visit to the Crystal Palace, could not refrain from taking part in the merriment excited on the occasion.

To proceed to the Exhibition with such a leg was utterly impossible, and to the Sandboys’ great discomfiture nothing remained to be done but to have theuni-pedMajor carried to a cab, and conveyed back to Craven-street as rapidly as possible.

Mr. Cursty Sandboys, as usual, saw that the calamity had been planned by some of the invisible sprites and mischievous elfins in the employ of that blind and spiteful old maid passing under the name of Destiny or Fate, and whom he felt thoroughly convinced were having a hearty demoniac laugh in their phantom sleeves at the many annoyances they were causing him; and no sooner was he once more located within the parlour of Major Oldschool, than he registered a vow on the ceiling of that apartment, that he would never again move a leg to get to that bothering Crystal Palace. It was no use talking to him—go home hewould—and people might laugh as they pleased.

That evening, as the Major and Cursty sat enjoying their toddy after the family had retired to rest, and Mr. Sandboys was growing eloquent, under the influence of the whisky punch, on the many beauties of his native Buttermere, Major Oldschool begged Cursty to defer his return to Cumberland until he (the Major) had escorted Elcy to the Exhibition, and availed himself of that opportunity to speak to the young lady on the subject of their morning’s conversation; for, as he said, half laughing, he could not think of marrying a lady who was unacquainted with the wonders of the Exhibition—he might as well pick a wife from a convent at once, and unite himself with one who had had her head shaved, and foresworn the world and every kind ofshow. As an additional inducement, moreover, the Major promised that if he were fortunate enough to gain the young lady’s consent, he would return with the family, be married at Lanthwaite Green Church, as his old friend had been, and pass the rest of his days with the family at Buttermere.

As soon as the Major was provided with a new limb, he accompanied Elcy and her brother to the Great Exhibition, and there, as he led her through all the countries of the civilized globe, he endeavoured to reveal the state of his feelings—now, as they paused for a moment in France, he asked her whether she thought she could be happy with him for life—and now, as they rambled through China, he inquired whether she fancied she would be very miserable if she had him for a companion for the remainder of her days. Elcy replied that he had been so kind to them all, that she was sure she should always be glad to be in his company, and that ever since her first acquaintance with him, she had esteemed him as one of her father’s best friends—all which so encouraged the Major, that he availed himself of the solitude of America to beg to be informed whether her esteem for him as a friend could make her love him as a husband?

The young lady was wholly unprepared for such an inquiry, and as she thought of the disparity of their ages, she hurried on and pretended to be so absorbed with the ingenuity of the sewing machine, as not to have heard the question; the Major, however, had no sooner led his fair companion into Russia, than he whispered the same tender question in her ear as she stood admiring the beauty of the malachite doors. Elcy, finding at last that it was impossible to evade the question, begged of the Major not to press her for an answer, telling him that the remembrance of his great kindness would always insure him her best regard, and as she said so, the frank-hearted girl shook him by the hand in token of her friendship; all of which the sanguine Major construed into a modest assent to his proposal, and he plucked up his shirt collar, as he felt as if the snows of some thirty winters had been suddenly swept away from his head. On the return home of the party, after their day’s tour of the world, the Major announced at tea that he proposed passing the remainder of his days in Buttermere, and it was accordingly arranged between himself and Cursty that they should leave London for Cumberland with the least possible delay.

But the departure of the Sandboys and the Major was doomed to be delayed once more; for Mrs. Cursty no sooner received a full and impartial account from Elcy and Jobby, of all the many curiosities contained beneath the huge glass case of the Crystal Palace, than she made up her mind she would have one peep at it before she left.

And when Mrs. Sandboys had feasted her eyes on the banquet of the works of Industry of all nations, she in her turn came back with a glowing account of its many marvels, so that poor Cursty began inwardly to long for a peep at it himself, but remembering the vow he had registered on the ceiling, he still pretended to be firm, though in his heart he was really waiting for his friends to press him to abandon his resolution, and to find some little excuse by which he could, with any show of honour, sneak out of the determination he had come to; and in the hope of their so doing, he managed to put off their departure, day after day, until at last, on the Monday morning fixed for their return to Buttermere, as Cursty sat at breakfast, sipping his hot tea hastily, so as to be in time for the train to the North, he confessed it would be a shame for him to go back without seeing the Exhibition. Accordingly, he asked the Major if, as a man of honour, he thought he could rescind his vow, saying that it struck him that, as he had taken an oath he would not stir a foot to get to the Great Exhibition, that did not prevent his being carried there. The Major smiled at the equivocation, and telling his friend that he might do so, and still preserve his honour unsullied, Mr. Sandboys consented that the cab which was then at the door to convey them to the station on their way back to their mountain home, should go round by the Exhibition, and drop him at the transept, so that he might pop his head in, and just be able to say that he had seen it, after all.

The Major who, while Cursty was coquetting with his conscience, stood at the window entertaining himself with the perusal of the morning paper, which he had bought to lighten the tedium of the long journey, no sooner heard the announcement of his friend’s altered determination, than he shouted out, “It’s no use now, Cursty! for here is a long account of the closing of the Exhibition last Saturday.” Mr. Sandboys’ jaw fell like a carriage dog’s, and, knocking his “wide-awake” on his head, he hurried into the cab, and in a minute the Sandboys family, in company with the Major, were on their way back to Buttermere, Cursty vowing that if there was ever another Exhibition, he would never think of coming up to London again to enjoy himself.

THE END.

Savill & Edwards, Printers, 4, Chandos-street, Covent garden.

Transcriber’s Notes:The inconsistent formatting of chapter headings was regularized.Missing or obscured punctuation was silently corrected.Typographical errors were silently corrected.Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation were made consistent only when a predominant form was found in this book.

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