Bill and the Boys.The story of the lottery ticket, concluded.Wemight have supposed that the Trudges, being now rich, and having attained what seemed the summit of Mrs. Trudge’s ambition, were perfectly happy. But this was far from being the case. They lived in a fine house, made a great dash, were admitted into what is called good society, and fancied that they were exciting the envy and admiration of the whole town of Buckwheat. But with all this show of bliss, there were many drawbacks to their felicity.In the first place, as to Tom,—or Squire Trudge, as we must now call him,—he was a simple-minded, sensible fellow, and but for the example and influence of his spouse, he had borne his prosperity without intoxication. Indeed, as it was, he behaved with considerable propriety. He spoke to his neighbors, as he met them, much as before, and when he could get from under his wife’s supervision, he would stop and chat familiarly with old intimates. He demeaned himself modestly, and seemed little elated with his good fortune. He was kind-hearted, and ready to befriend the needy; but still, he had many sources of vexation.His restless helpmate insisted that he should dress “as became his station;” and accordingly he was compelled to wear tight shoes, which pinched his corns terribly, and kept him in an almost constant state of martyrdom. When he walked abroad, he put his foot to the ground as gingerly as if he were steppingon eggs. He was required to have his coat in the fashion, which trussed him up about the arms, and made those limbs stand out upon each side of him, like a couple of pump-handles. His neckcloth, of pure white, (as was the fashion then,) was lined with what was called a pudding; and to please his dame, who had a nice taste in these matters, he tied it so tight that it threw the blood into his face, and gave his ruddy complexion a liver-colored hue.Nor was this all poor Tom had to endure. He was constantly “hatchelled” as to his manners, somewhat after the following fashion: “My dear Trudge,” his wife would say to him, “do now try to be a gentleman. Pray wipe your nose with your pocket handkerchief, and not with your fingers! Turn your toes out, man, or people will never forget that you was once a pedler. Hold your head up, step large, swing your arms bravely, and seem to be somebody. In short, pray do be genteel.”“Well, well, wife,” Trudge would reply; “I’ll do as well as I can.” The dialogue would usually go on pretty much as follows.Mrs. T.Do as well as you can! and is that all you have to say for yourself? Oh, dear, dear! I’m afraid I shall never make nothin’ on you. One can’t make a silk purse of a sow’s ear, as Shakspeare says. Oh, Tom, Tom, I wish you had a little morejinnysyquaw!Tom.Jinnysyquaw! What the mischief’s that?Mrs. T.Just as if you didn’t know what jinnysyquaw was! Oh, my dear Tom! you are as ignorant as the whipping-post. Not know what jinnysyquaw is! Oh, dear, dear! This comes of not knowing French. Why, jinnysyquaw is a—a—a kind of something-or-other—that—nobody knows nothing about—that is to say—it is a kind of can’t-tell-ish-ness. For instance, if a person has a very genteel air, they say, “He’s got the true jinnysyquaw.” All the people who have been to Paris talk a great deal about it; and I’ll tell you as a secret, Tom—Dick Flint whispered in my ear, the other night at Mrs. Million’s party, and he told me I had the real French jinnysyquaw! Now, what do you think of that?Tom.What do I think of it! I think he’s an impudent jackanapes, and you are a--!Mrs. T.Hold your tongue, Tom—hold your tongue! Dick Flint’s the height of fashion: everybody is running after him. He’s been abroad, sir—yes, he’s been abroad, sir! That’s more than you can say for yourself. So, hold your tongue, and listen to me. Try to be a gentleman, as becomes your station. Hold up your head, carry a stiff upper lip, and keep up an important air. There should always be about a person of consequence, something which says, “Clear the road, forIam coming.”Tom.I suppose you mean the jinnysyquaw.This last observation was made by Tom with a quizzical look, as if he was poking fun at his spouse. But she took it in good part, for she was too well satisfied with herself to suspect that she could be the object of ridicule.We have thus given some idea of certain vexations which marred the happiness of Squire Trudge. Nor was thisthe only evil of his lot. Though he had a sort of impression that he was so rich as to justify any degree of extravagance, yet he was sometimes disturbed by the sums of money which his ambitious wife lavished upon her follies.Nor was that lady wholly without her annoyances, however she might seem to be floating upon a sea of bliss. She could not but feel the superiority of Mrs. Million, who was a woman of talent and education, and the only mode she had to supply her own deficiency, was to excel her rival in dash and splendor. Accordingly, she had fine horses and a splendid carriage. She gave parties, at which there was always an abundant feast. She appeared in the most costly dresses, and carried every fashion to its height.While she affected to despise and hate Mrs. Million, she imitated her in everything. At last, she became so complete a caricature of that fashionable dame, that everybody discovered the ridiculous resemblance. Mrs. Million, far from being flattered by seeing such a grotesque reflection of herself, was infinitely more vexed at the involuntary homage thus rendered by Bridget, than she could have been by her envy and spleen.A new fancy now crept into the brain of our heroine. Mrs. Million had just got a piano from New York, and, as it was the only one in the town, and a great rarity in those days, it excited quite a sensation among the fashionable circles of Buckwheat. Perceiving this, and determined to be behind in nothing, Bridget resolved to get one, and a much more splendid one than Mrs. Million’s. Accordingly, the following conversation ensued between herself and Tom the next morning.Mrs. T.My dear Mr. Trudge, I wish you had been at Mrs. Million’s last night. She’s got the beautifullestpiannyin her parlor that you ever see. Now I want you to send to New York for one for me, and I want to have the beautifullest that can be got.Tom.What’s the use of sending to New York? Can’t you get one here?Mrs. T.Get one here, indeed! not a bit of it. Beside, nothing will do but one all the way from New York.Tom.Well, well! I’ll see about it.Mrs. T.Well, let it be here on Thursday, for mysorry—that’s a good man!Here the conversation ended, and, on the appointed day, a huge tub, set on wheels, and painted green, was brought from New York, and trundled into the front entry of the Trudges. The tub contained a splendid group ofpeonies, in full bloom.“Whathaveyou got there?” said Mrs. Trudge to her husband, who was standing by. “Why, thepianny, to be sure,” says Tom. “The pianny!” said his wife, throwing up her hands; “the pianny! What a ridiculous blunder! Oh, Tom, Tom, you’ll break my heart! You’ve no more hedication than a heath-hen. I axed you to get me a pianny, and you have got me a pianny.”Here Mrs. Trudge sobbed aloud, and it was a long time before poor Mr. Trudge could be made to understand the mistake he had made. He was at last compelled to order the piano, even though it cost four hundred dollars, and he considered the peace with his wife,which he thus purchased, to have been cheaply obtained.Another vexation which Mrs. Trudge experienced, arose from her servants. Sometimes she was familiar, sometimes imperious and tyrannical. She therefore secured neither the respect nor affection of those around her. She was accordingly accustomed to indulge in the fashionable outcry against her “help.”An incident which throws some light upon this topic, it may be worth while to relate. Mrs. Million had recently introduced bells into her house, and Bridget followed suit. The servants conceived a dislike to being thus summoned into the presence of their mistress. It struck them not only as an innovation, but as a rude and harsh mode of calling them. Mrs. Trudge’s manner was not calculated to allay this aversion, for while the bells were being put up, she seemed to assume a loftier tone than usual.When they were at last arranged, she attired herself in a splendid satin dress, took a bottle of hartshorn, reclined luxuriously upon a sofa, and then pulled the bell-rope, which was near. She waited a little, but no one came at the summons. She pulled again, but there was no answer. At last, she gave the cord an imperious twitch, which nearly sundered the wires. In a few seconds, the chambermaid popped her head in at the door, and said spitefully to her mistress, “You may pull and pull till you are gray, Miss Trudge; the more you ring, the more I won’t come.”Such were some of the vexations which disturbed the brilliant career of our heroine. There were others, also, and even those of a more serious character. But she still pressed forward in her course of ambition. She seemed indeed to be always in a flurry, and to keep everybody around her in a constant state of uneasy excitement. She was indeed never happy for a moment, and seemed ever to be tormented with the desire of chasing a phantom she could never obtain. If, indeed, she had any enjoyments, they consisted only of the fleeting pleasures which characterize little minds—the idea that she was exciting the envy and admiration of those around her.Thus affairs proceeded for several years, but, at last, a crisis came. The extravagance of the family not only exhausted the whole of Trudge’s fortune, but ran him in debt. His creditors came upon him, and as he could not meet their demands, he was declared a bankrupt. The event found Mrs. Trudge upon the full tide of fashionable dissipation. She was struck like a bird in mid flight. She could not, and would not at first, believe the melancholy tidings. It was, alas! too true, and she was compelled to submit to her cruel fate.With scarcely a shilling in his pocket, and only a few necessary articles of furniture which his creditors had allowed him, poor Tom set out with his wife and children to return to the little brown dwelling, which he had occupied before his drawing the prize. They were obliged to go on foot, and as Bridget proceeded down the nicely-gravelled walk, thus taking leave of her splendid mansion forever, she felt a keener pang thancan be well uttered in words. She was indeed the very image of despair. Her pride was humbled—her prospects blighted—her heart broken. Tom led the way, and though he felt for his wife and children, there was a remarkable aspect of cheerfulness in his countenance.The party at length arrived at their dwelling. It seemed so desolate and bare, that for two or three days Bridget seemed utterly crushed. Tom treated her with great tenderness, and, at the same time, kept up a cheerful air. In a few days, Bridget’s good sense and energy of character prevailed. She entered upon her duties, and before a fortnight had passed, she seemed not only resigned to her fate, but absolutely content. Tom whistled, and danced, and said that he was ten times happier than when he lived in the great house. He could now wear an easy old coat, and shoes that did not pinch his corns. Beside, he had been weary of the idle life he had led, and he now entered upon his old trade as a pedler, with pleasure and alacrity. The children soon became accustomed to the change, and, in less than three months after their downfall, Tom and his wife both agreed that they were happier in their brown house than they ever had been in the big mansion.“Style and splendor may do for those who are brought up to it,” said Tom; “but, after all, the comfort and content of the cottage are much better. Don’t you think so, Bridget?”“Yes, Tom, I do indeed,” said the spouse.Tom.It’s almost equal to thejinnysyquaw, an’t it, Bridget?Mrs. T.Hold your tongue, Tom!Anecdote of a Tiger.—One day a singular circumstance took place in a menagerie near London, which shows the retentive memory of the tiger. A sailor, who had been strolling round the exhibition, loitering here and there to admire the animals, was attracted by a strange noise, made by a tiger, who seemed irritated beyond endurance. Jack, somewhat alarmed, sought the keeper to inquire the cause of so singular a display of feeling, which, he remarked, became more boisterous, the nearer he approached the animal. The keeper replied, that the behavior of the tiger indicated that he was either vastly pleased, or very much annoyed. Upon this, the sailor again approached the den, and gazed at the tiger a few minutes, during which time the animal became frantic with seeming rage, lashing his tail against his sides, and giving utterance to the most frightful bellowings. He soon discovered the tiger to be one that he had, not long before, brought to England, and which had been his especial care.It now was Jack’s turn to be delighted, as it appears the tiger was, in thus recognizing his old friend; and, after making repeated applications to be permitted to enter the den, for the purpose, he said, of “shaking a fist” with the beautiful animal, he was suffered to do so. The iron door was opened, and in jumped Jack, to the delight of himself and his striped friend, and the astonishment of the lookers-on. The affection of the animal was now shown by caressing and licking the pleased sailor, whom he seemed towelcome with the heartiest satisfaction; and when the honest tar left the den, the anguish of the poor animal seemed almost insupportable.
The story of the lottery ticket, concluded.
Wemight have supposed that the Trudges, being now rich, and having attained what seemed the summit of Mrs. Trudge’s ambition, were perfectly happy. But this was far from being the case. They lived in a fine house, made a great dash, were admitted into what is called good society, and fancied that they were exciting the envy and admiration of the whole town of Buckwheat. But with all this show of bliss, there were many drawbacks to their felicity.
In the first place, as to Tom,—or Squire Trudge, as we must now call him,—he was a simple-minded, sensible fellow, and but for the example and influence of his spouse, he had borne his prosperity without intoxication. Indeed, as it was, he behaved with considerable propriety. He spoke to his neighbors, as he met them, much as before, and when he could get from under his wife’s supervision, he would stop and chat familiarly with old intimates. He demeaned himself modestly, and seemed little elated with his good fortune. He was kind-hearted, and ready to befriend the needy; but still, he had many sources of vexation.
His restless helpmate insisted that he should dress “as became his station;” and accordingly he was compelled to wear tight shoes, which pinched his corns terribly, and kept him in an almost constant state of martyrdom. When he walked abroad, he put his foot to the ground as gingerly as if he were steppingon eggs. He was required to have his coat in the fashion, which trussed him up about the arms, and made those limbs stand out upon each side of him, like a couple of pump-handles. His neckcloth, of pure white, (as was the fashion then,) was lined with what was called a pudding; and to please his dame, who had a nice taste in these matters, he tied it so tight that it threw the blood into his face, and gave his ruddy complexion a liver-colored hue.
Nor was this all poor Tom had to endure. He was constantly “hatchelled” as to his manners, somewhat after the following fashion: “My dear Trudge,” his wife would say to him, “do now try to be a gentleman. Pray wipe your nose with your pocket handkerchief, and not with your fingers! Turn your toes out, man, or people will never forget that you was once a pedler. Hold your head up, step large, swing your arms bravely, and seem to be somebody. In short, pray do be genteel.”
“Well, well, wife,” Trudge would reply; “I’ll do as well as I can.” The dialogue would usually go on pretty much as follows.
Mrs. T.Do as well as you can! and is that all you have to say for yourself? Oh, dear, dear! I’m afraid I shall never make nothin’ on you. One can’t make a silk purse of a sow’s ear, as Shakspeare says. Oh, Tom, Tom, I wish you had a little morejinnysyquaw!
Tom.Jinnysyquaw! What the mischief’s that?
Mrs. T.Just as if you didn’t know what jinnysyquaw was! Oh, my dear Tom! you are as ignorant as the whipping-post. Not know what jinnysyquaw is! Oh, dear, dear! This comes of not knowing French. Why, jinnysyquaw is a—a—a kind of something-or-other—that—nobody knows nothing about—that is to say—it is a kind of can’t-tell-ish-ness. For instance, if a person has a very genteel air, they say, “He’s got the true jinnysyquaw.” All the people who have been to Paris talk a great deal about it; and I’ll tell you as a secret, Tom—Dick Flint whispered in my ear, the other night at Mrs. Million’s party, and he told me I had the real French jinnysyquaw! Now, what do you think of that?
Tom.What do I think of it! I think he’s an impudent jackanapes, and you are a--!
Mrs. T.Hold your tongue, Tom—hold your tongue! Dick Flint’s the height of fashion: everybody is running after him. He’s been abroad, sir—yes, he’s been abroad, sir! That’s more than you can say for yourself. So, hold your tongue, and listen to me. Try to be a gentleman, as becomes your station. Hold up your head, carry a stiff upper lip, and keep up an important air. There should always be about a person of consequence, something which says, “Clear the road, forIam coming.”
Tom.I suppose you mean the jinnysyquaw.
This last observation was made by Tom with a quizzical look, as if he was poking fun at his spouse. But she took it in good part, for she was too well satisfied with herself to suspect that she could be the object of ridicule.
We have thus given some idea of certain vexations which marred the happiness of Squire Trudge. Nor was thisthe only evil of his lot. Though he had a sort of impression that he was so rich as to justify any degree of extravagance, yet he was sometimes disturbed by the sums of money which his ambitious wife lavished upon her follies.
Nor was that lady wholly without her annoyances, however she might seem to be floating upon a sea of bliss. She could not but feel the superiority of Mrs. Million, who was a woman of talent and education, and the only mode she had to supply her own deficiency, was to excel her rival in dash and splendor. Accordingly, she had fine horses and a splendid carriage. She gave parties, at which there was always an abundant feast. She appeared in the most costly dresses, and carried every fashion to its height.
While she affected to despise and hate Mrs. Million, she imitated her in everything. At last, she became so complete a caricature of that fashionable dame, that everybody discovered the ridiculous resemblance. Mrs. Million, far from being flattered by seeing such a grotesque reflection of herself, was infinitely more vexed at the involuntary homage thus rendered by Bridget, than she could have been by her envy and spleen.
A new fancy now crept into the brain of our heroine. Mrs. Million had just got a piano from New York, and, as it was the only one in the town, and a great rarity in those days, it excited quite a sensation among the fashionable circles of Buckwheat. Perceiving this, and determined to be behind in nothing, Bridget resolved to get one, and a much more splendid one than Mrs. Million’s. Accordingly, the following conversation ensued between herself and Tom the next morning.
Mrs. T.My dear Mr. Trudge, I wish you had been at Mrs. Million’s last night. She’s got the beautifullestpiannyin her parlor that you ever see. Now I want you to send to New York for one for me, and I want to have the beautifullest that can be got.
Tom.What’s the use of sending to New York? Can’t you get one here?
Mrs. T.Get one here, indeed! not a bit of it. Beside, nothing will do but one all the way from New York.
Tom.Well, well! I’ll see about it.
Mrs. T.Well, let it be here on Thursday, for mysorry—that’s a good man!
Here the conversation ended, and, on the appointed day, a huge tub, set on wheels, and painted green, was brought from New York, and trundled into the front entry of the Trudges. The tub contained a splendid group ofpeonies, in full bloom.
“Whathaveyou got there?” said Mrs. Trudge to her husband, who was standing by. “Why, thepianny, to be sure,” says Tom. “The pianny!” said his wife, throwing up her hands; “the pianny! What a ridiculous blunder! Oh, Tom, Tom, you’ll break my heart! You’ve no more hedication than a heath-hen. I axed you to get me a pianny, and you have got me a pianny.”
Here Mrs. Trudge sobbed aloud, and it was a long time before poor Mr. Trudge could be made to understand the mistake he had made. He was at last compelled to order the piano, even though it cost four hundred dollars, and he considered the peace with his wife,which he thus purchased, to have been cheaply obtained.
Another vexation which Mrs. Trudge experienced, arose from her servants. Sometimes she was familiar, sometimes imperious and tyrannical. She therefore secured neither the respect nor affection of those around her. She was accordingly accustomed to indulge in the fashionable outcry against her “help.”
An incident which throws some light upon this topic, it may be worth while to relate. Mrs. Million had recently introduced bells into her house, and Bridget followed suit. The servants conceived a dislike to being thus summoned into the presence of their mistress. It struck them not only as an innovation, but as a rude and harsh mode of calling them. Mrs. Trudge’s manner was not calculated to allay this aversion, for while the bells were being put up, she seemed to assume a loftier tone than usual.
When they were at last arranged, she attired herself in a splendid satin dress, took a bottle of hartshorn, reclined luxuriously upon a sofa, and then pulled the bell-rope, which was near. She waited a little, but no one came at the summons. She pulled again, but there was no answer. At last, she gave the cord an imperious twitch, which nearly sundered the wires. In a few seconds, the chambermaid popped her head in at the door, and said spitefully to her mistress, “You may pull and pull till you are gray, Miss Trudge; the more you ring, the more I won’t come.”
Such were some of the vexations which disturbed the brilliant career of our heroine. There were others, also, and even those of a more serious character. But she still pressed forward in her course of ambition. She seemed indeed to be always in a flurry, and to keep everybody around her in a constant state of uneasy excitement. She was indeed never happy for a moment, and seemed ever to be tormented with the desire of chasing a phantom she could never obtain. If, indeed, she had any enjoyments, they consisted only of the fleeting pleasures which characterize little minds—the idea that she was exciting the envy and admiration of those around her.
Thus affairs proceeded for several years, but, at last, a crisis came. The extravagance of the family not only exhausted the whole of Trudge’s fortune, but ran him in debt. His creditors came upon him, and as he could not meet their demands, he was declared a bankrupt. The event found Mrs. Trudge upon the full tide of fashionable dissipation. She was struck like a bird in mid flight. She could not, and would not at first, believe the melancholy tidings. It was, alas! too true, and she was compelled to submit to her cruel fate.
With scarcely a shilling in his pocket, and only a few necessary articles of furniture which his creditors had allowed him, poor Tom set out with his wife and children to return to the little brown dwelling, which he had occupied before his drawing the prize. They were obliged to go on foot, and as Bridget proceeded down the nicely-gravelled walk, thus taking leave of her splendid mansion forever, she felt a keener pang thancan be well uttered in words. She was indeed the very image of despair. Her pride was humbled—her prospects blighted—her heart broken. Tom led the way, and though he felt for his wife and children, there was a remarkable aspect of cheerfulness in his countenance.
The party at length arrived at their dwelling. It seemed so desolate and bare, that for two or three days Bridget seemed utterly crushed. Tom treated her with great tenderness, and, at the same time, kept up a cheerful air. In a few days, Bridget’s good sense and energy of character prevailed. She entered upon her duties, and before a fortnight had passed, she seemed not only resigned to her fate, but absolutely content. Tom whistled, and danced, and said that he was ten times happier than when he lived in the great house. He could now wear an easy old coat, and shoes that did not pinch his corns. Beside, he had been weary of the idle life he had led, and he now entered upon his old trade as a pedler, with pleasure and alacrity. The children soon became accustomed to the change, and, in less than three months after their downfall, Tom and his wife both agreed that they were happier in their brown house than they ever had been in the big mansion.
“Style and splendor may do for those who are brought up to it,” said Tom; “but, after all, the comfort and content of the cottage are much better. Don’t you think so, Bridget?”
“Yes, Tom, I do indeed,” said the spouse.
Tom.It’s almost equal to thejinnysyquaw, an’t it, Bridget?
Mrs. T.Hold your tongue, Tom!
Anecdote of a Tiger.—One day a singular circumstance took place in a menagerie near London, which shows the retentive memory of the tiger. A sailor, who had been strolling round the exhibition, loitering here and there to admire the animals, was attracted by a strange noise, made by a tiger, who seemed irritated beyond endurance. Jack, somewhat alarmed, sought the keeper to inquire the cause of so singular a display of feeling, which, he remarked, became more boisterous, the nearer he approached the animal. The keeper replied, that the behavior of the tiger indicated that he was either vastly pleased, or very much annoyed. Upon this, the sailor again approached the den, and gazed at the tiger a few minutes, during which time the animal became frantic with seeming rage, lashing his tail against his sides, and giving utterance to the most frightful bellowings. He soon discovered the tiger to be one that he had, not long before, brought to England, and which had been his especial care.
It now was Jack’s turn to be delighted, as it appears the tiger was, in thus recognizing his old friend; and, after making repeated applications to be permitted to enter the den, for the purpose, he said, of “shaking a fist” with the beautiful animal, he was suffered to do so. The iron door was opened, and in jumped Jack, to the delight of himself and his striped friend, and the astonishment of the lookers-on. The affection of the animal was now shown by caressing and licking the pleased sailor, whom he seemed towelcome with the heartiest satisfaction; and when the honest tar left the den, the anguish of the poor animal seemed almost insupportable.