"Hah! Sniggles? What is the fellow doing here? dunning you for his money? The scoundrel! Hah! What!"
I thought he would have kicked the poor man out of the room, and so thought Sniggles also; for, though he exclaimed, "Touch me if you dare!" he ran to the door, where he looked vastly alarmed, and was able to muster only a single expression of resolution. "I asks my money," said he, "and dang me but I'll have it; for, as Mrs. Sniggles says, I'll not be diddled for nothing."
"Pay the rascal his dirty money, and then be done with him; leave his house, and patronise him no more," said Jack. Then turning to me, he made three skips into the air, clapped his hands, and running up to me and giving me a second embrace, cried,—
"Angels, horses, and women! hug me, kiss me, and lend me that five hundred dollars—your uncle has arrived!"
"Uncle! what uncle?" said I.
"Why your uncle Wiggins—your rich old uncle—your dad of an uncle—your bank and banker—your—But I say, Dawky, you'll lend me that five hundred, won't you? Saw him at the hotel—just arrived—asked anxiously for his nephew Dawkins;—bad look about the eyes—will die in a month; and then—then, my fellow! fourteen thousand a year, if it's fourteen hundred!"
"Fourteen thousand a year!" echoed I; the words were also muttered over by Sniggles. I caught the fellow's eye; he looked confounded and uneasy.
"If that's so," said he, "then I hope Mr. Dawkins will pay me my money, and not take no offence, for none wasn't intended."
"Pay you your money!" said Jack Tickle, stepping up to him in a rage; "no, you rapacious dun, he sha'n't pay you a cent. You shall sue him, and get judgment, and wait six months for your money."
"No, you rascallion!" said I, "I won't take that revenge of such a low fellow. I'll pay you your money, and be done with you. But, Jack, I say, demmee, let's be off; let's run down to my uncle Wiggins."
"Wiggins!" said my landlord; "why, you always said his name was Wilkins!"
"And so it is," said Tickle; "Wiggins P. Wilkins, the rich and well-known Wiggins P. Wilkins. But what do you want here? Have you had your answer? What do you mean by intruding here? You'll get your money; and so, if you please, do Mr. Dawkins and me the favour to walk down stairs, or—"
"Well," said my amiable creditor, whose fury was quite overcome by Tickle's violence, and his report of my uncle's arrival, "I always said Mr. Dawkins was a gentleman, and would pay me one day or another; and one day's just as good as another; and so I hopes he'll take no offence. But as for you, and the likes of you, Mr. Tickle," said the little man, endeavouring to assume courage, "I don't like to be abused in my own house; but, howsomever, as you're Mr. Dawkins's friend, I'll say no more about it."
And with that my gentleman walked down stairs.
"Let us go!" said I. "Let us run—let us fly!"
"Where?" said Tickle.
"Why, to my uncle. Where is he?"
"Where!" cried Tickle, bursting into a roar of laughter. "Are you as big a fool as Sniggles? You didn't believe me! Ah, lud! is there nobody witty but myself?"
"And my uncle a'n't come, then?" said I. "What made you say so?"
"To rid you of a dun, my fellow," said Jack. "I saw the rascal had worked himself into a phrensy, and that you were at your wit's end. I had pity on your distresses, and so ran in with a huge lie, as irresistible as a broadsword, to the rescue. Victory and Jo Pæan! I have routed the enemy, and you are no longer in fear. Keep up the fire, and you are easy for a week."
"But my uncle really intends to leave me that fourteen thousand a year?" said I.
"Has he got it?" said Jack, giving me a comical stare.
"Jack," said I, after pausing a little, "I want to ask you a favour."
"Have but twenty-five in the world," said Tickle, pulling out his pocketbook; "but you shall have ten."
"It isn't that," said I; "I want you to tell me my history."
"Your history!" said Tickle, staring at me in surprise.
An idea had suddenly seized me; and I must say, that up to this time, it was the most brilliant one that ever entered my mind. My ignorance of Mr. I. D. Dawkins's affairs was still highly inconvenient and oppressive, and I was determined, with my friend's assistance, to remove it.
"Tickle," said I, "I really believe the doctor has only half resuscitated me; my body is pretty well, but my mind is only so-so. Would you believe it, my memory is quite gone?"
"As to your debts, certainly," said Jack; "so is mine."
"Ged," said I, "'tis gone altogether. Really, it seems to me as if I had only begun existence this morning; my recollection of all events (and even persons known) anterior to my sop in the river, is so imperfect, you can't conceive. Would you believe it, I really didn't know that rogue Sniggles, and had to ask him his name! The ladies, too, Jack—Miss Smith, Miss Small, and the rest that you were talking about—who the deuse are they? I have heard much talk of my uncle, too.HaveI an uncle? and if so, who and what is he? for I swear, 'pon honour, Jack, I know no more than the man in the moon. In a word, Jack, demmee, I am in my second childhood, and you must help me out of it. Give me, therefore, my history, my whole history, and tell me all about me; for may I be dunned to death if I rightly know who I am!"
"You don't?" said Jack; "well, that's funny; but I have heard of such things before. Is a dip in cold water, then, so hard on the memory? I say, Dawky, my fellow, couldn't we contrive some way to dip our creditors? But, eged now, Dawky, you a'n't serious?"
"I am," said I; "and I beg you'll give me an idea who I am, and all other things appertaining."
"Oh!" said Tickle, who seemed vastly diverted by my embarrassment, "that is soon done. You are a dandy of pure blood, and poor as a church mouse, but not yet out of favour. Your father, who was a dandy before you, and in prime esteem, having bought his way into notice with two or three cargoes of indigo and young hyson (for he was an India merchant), properly laid out in elegant entertainments, gave up trade to live a gentleman, and died one; leaving you, an elegant fellow and ignoramus, as a gentleman's son should be, to spend his leavings. This you have done, Dawky, and most gloriously. For five years, none of us, the sons of nabobocracy, could compare with you in dash, flash, and splash. But even Phaeton fell! Horses galloped away, buggies and curricles rolled into the gutter, and tailors looked alarmed—stocks flew out at the window, bricks and mortar took to themselves wings, and your stockings began to want darning. Then said Dawkins, 'I will marry a wife,' and he looked loving at Periwinkle's fair daughter; and Periwinkle's fair daughter looked loving at Dawkins; and Dawkins calling counsel of his friend, John Tickle, of Ticklesbury Manor, beheld and lo! Periwinkle's fair daughter's father's fine estate was fenced round with rows of mortgages, as thick and thorny as prickly-pears. Whereupon the inconstant swain, forgetting his vows, ran to the elegant Miss Small, who smiled on him, and married another; and the loss of this adorable fair, fortune and all, together with an uncommon fit of dunning, so affected my friend's spirits, that he threw himself into the Schuylkill, whence he was fished by a fellow called What-d'-ye-call-it, a brewer."
"Well," said I; "but do you mean to say I have squandered all my property?"
"Every sous," said my friend; "it is just six weeks since you spent the last dollar of the last term of your annuity."
"What annuity?" said I.
"Why, the five years' annuity you bought of old Goldfist. Is it possible you don't recollecthim? Don't you remember the row of negro-houses you owned down in Southwark?"
"I don't," said I.
"A piece of arrant cheating! sheer swindling!" said Tickle; "but when did old Skinner ever make an honest bargain? The houses and lot of ground worth two thousand, as they stood; but title good and indefeisible, and capable of being made worth twenty thousand: I remember you offered 'em to old Goldfist for seven. What said the old hunks? 'Give me immediate possession, and thereupon you shall have a bonus of a thousand on the nail, together with the same sum yearly for five years, provided you live so long—if not, then as long as you live.' Snapped like a gudgeon, and was bit; and on the fifth year—beginning of August last, had the last integer of payment, with comfort of seeing a property you had sold for six thousand, yielding its possessor just that much a year."
"The geds!" said I; "has old Goldfist six thousand a year?"
"Say sixty," replied Jack.
"Tickle," said I, "the old curmudgeon has a daughter: I'll marry her."
"No you won't," said my friend, shaking his head mournfully: "old Goldfist is too well acquainted with your affairs; and unless you have his consent, what will you get by her?"
"Tickle," said I, "I must marry somebody, or be ruined. But stay, there's my uncle; now, my dear fellow, who is he?"
"Faith," said Tickle, "I don't know; always supposed he belonged to the Apocrypha, and was used to argue duns into good manners: nobody sues a young fellow that has good expectations from a rich uncle. But, now I think of it, I believe you did once tell me you had an uncle—some vagabond trading fellow or other—in the west; but I never heard you say you expected any thing of him. I thought you called him Wiggins; but Sniggles says Wilkins. All's one, however; for I remember you said he had brats of his own."
I began to feel uncomfortable; and, upon questioning my friend further, I discovered that my situation was far from being agreeable. I had a horrible quantity of debts on my shoulders, and no fund to discharge them; and, what was worse, I found that my means of subsistence were not only precarious, but I had good reason to fear they were any thing but reputable. My dear friend John Tickle, though a gentleman and dandy, it was plain, was a personage who lived by his wits; and I began to see that Mr. I. D. Dawkins was another. From Tickle's expressions, I perceived that our chief dependance lay in the noble trade of pigeon-hunting. As this is a word some of my readers may be too unsophisticated to understand, I will explain it, and in very few words. As there are in the world young fellows of plebeian origin but full pockets, who are ambitious to figure in elegant society, so there are also in elegant society sundry youths of better fame than fortune, who are willing to patronise them, provided any thing can be made by their condescension; in which case, the happy Phaeton is taught to spend his money in ways most advantageous to his patrons, though by no means to his own profit. Such a young gentleman is then called a pigeon, and is allowed to flutter in the sunbeams, while his eagle-clawed friends are helping themselves to his feathers; the last of which being abstracted, he is commonly called a fine fellow, and kicked out of their company. I cannot pretend to say what degree of relish my prototype, the true I. D. Dawkins, may have had for such a mode of existence; but I must aver in my own defence, that I had, throughout the whole adventure, while in his body, so much of Sheppard Lee's original sense of honour and honesty hanging about me, that I was more than once shocked at the meanness and depravity of such a course of life; and when I first understood the thing from Tickle, I was so ashamed of myself, that had I lighted upon the body of any decent man at the moment, I do verily believe I should have done my best to get into it, and so put an end to Mr. I. D. Dawkins altogether. But men's bodies are not like the dry-goods dealers' boxes in Market-street, to be stumbled into at any moment.
It was some comfort to me to find that our practice in this particular was so little known, that both Tickle and myself—but myself more especially—were considered in the main very excellent, exemplary young men, as far as dandies could be, and were still allowed to mingle in elegant society.
As for Tickle, indeed, I soon discovered he was in but doubtful odour with the ladies, at least with their mammas; for he had been for some years living on his wits: but I, on the contrary, being pretty universally regarded as the heir-expectant of a rich uncle, and being besides a prettier fellow, was received with general favour and approbation.
Having obtained from Tickle as much of my (or Mr. I. D. Dawkins's) history as was necessary, I gave my worthy friend to understand I should need his advice and assistance in returning into society; "for," said I, and very truly too, "I really sha'n't know anybody, and shall feel very awkward. Here," I added, "are two invitations for this very evening—one from Mrs. Pickup, and the other from the Misses Oldstyle. Now who is Mrs. Pickup? and who are the Oldstyles? and where the mischief do they live?"
"It is very odd you should forget so much," said Tickle; and then proceeded to give me the information I wanted, promising also to go with me to both places himself, and prompt me through all difficulties.
Having thus got upon the subject of the ladies, we—that is, Tickle and myself—fell into a highly agreeable conversation, in the course of which I lost sight of all my fears and anxieties, until they were suddenly recalled by the entrance—and a very unceremonious one it was—of a tall fellow with hinge knees and crow-bar elbows, fashionably dressed, but whom there was no mistaking for aught but a vulgarian. I knew his errand before he spoke; and so did Tickle, who instantly cried out,
"Snip the tailor, eged! and another paroxysm of dunning!"
"Servant, Mr. Dawkins,—servant, Mr. Tickle," said the gentleman, giving each of us a scrape; "hope no intrusion and no offence; wouldn't go to controvert gentlemen on no account. But, talking of accounts, Mr. Dawkins, hope you'll excuse me; wouldn't dun a gentleman for the world, but have a cussed note in bank for cloth, and must make up the sum by to-morrow; and so, if it's convenient, Mr. Dawkins, shall be obliged for the amount of bill."
"My uncle," said I—
"Can't go that no more," said the tailor; "can't go that no more, begging pardon. Bill outstanding nineteen months and over; wouldn't mind letting it run the year out, but for the cussed pressure on the money-market: no money to be had nowhere."
"Right," said Jack; "and what makes you suppose you will get it here? Now, Snip, my dear fellow, make yourself short. 'Tis not convenient just now for my friend Dawkins to pay you."
"Must take up that note," said Mr. Snip; "can't think of waiting no longer."
The rascal spoke resolutely, though more cowardly-looking than Sniggles: but who could withstand the rage and indignation of my friend Tickle?
"Away, you ungrateful loon!" said he; "is that the way you serve the man that made you? Who would have employed you, you botch, if Dawkins had not taken you up and made you fashionable?"
"Ay, demmee, Snip," said I, taking my cue from Tickle, "I say, wasn't I the making of you? and do you come dunning me? Didn't I recommend you into notice and business? didn't I send my friends to you?"
"Can't deny," said the tailor, "won't controvert; but must say, can't always get my money of Mr. Dawkins's friends; but don't mean no offence. Wouldn't think of pressing Mr. Dawkins; always said he was my friend; wouldn't mind holding back, if Mr. Dawkins would send me good pay-customers."
"Well," said I, thinking the man was modest in his desires, "I will: you shall have three Johnny Raws before the week is out, and you may charge them double."
"Very much obliged, and won't controvert," said Mr. Snip, humbly; "but can't take no more promises."
"And you really insist upon having your money?" said Tickle.
"Ay!" said I, re-echoing his indignation, and putting on a dignity that even awed myself, "you are determined to have your money, and to lose your business? Tickle, hand me back that five hundred I lent you, or enough of it to pay the rascallion—shall have it again as soon as I can run down and see my uncle Wilkins. I say, Tickle, hand me the money, and let me pay the ungrateful rascal off."
"If I do," said Jack, "demmee! Encourage dunning? Never!"
"He shall have his money," said I. "Here, you Snip, you man, you have broken your own neck; come back here to-morrow at half past twelve, with a receipt in full, take your money, and never look to make a gentleman's coat again. Come, Tickle, it is time I was with my uncle; you shall go along and dine with him. A fine old cock, I assure you!"
I surveyed the tailor; my dignity, and the sound of my uncle's name, had subdued him. He slipped his bill into his pocket, and looked penitent.
"Won't controvert a gentleman on no occasion," he said. "Always said Mr. Dawkins was my friend; and as for Mr. Dawkins's uncle—"
"Yes!" said Jack, "yes! you said you did not believe in any such person! did not believe there was such a person!"
"Can't controvert no gentleman," said the tailor, looking as if he had been rubbed down with his own goose; "but never said no such thing, Mr. Tickle. Always believed in Mr. Dawkins's uncle, but only thought perhaps he wouldn't pay—that is, wasn't certain, and didn't mean no offence; and so if Mr. Dawkins will say a word for me now and then to gentlemen that wants coats, I'll leave it to his convenience; hoping he will excuse my coming up stairs without asking, not having found no servant, and not supposing he would take no offence, and—"
And so the rascallion was going on, heaping apology on apology, and about to depart in contrition for his offence; when, as my evil genius would have it, in popped Mr. Sniggles, foaming with wrath, and looking daggers and conflagration.
"Trouble you for the amount of that 'ere small account," said the fellow; "don't believe in no more uncles; won't be diddled no longer for nothing; all diddle about uncle—just as Mrs. Sniggles says—no more uncle than she has!"
"What do you mean?" said Jack Tickle; but his indignation no longer daunted the dun, who cried out, with uncommon emphasis and effect,—
"Had my doubts about the matter, and told Mrs. Sniggles, said I, 'Mr. Dawkins's uncle has come;' says Mrs. Sniggles, 'Run down to the tavern and see; for no sitch thing a'n't certain till we knows it.' And so I runs down to the Mansion House, and Mr. Wilkins wasn't there; and then I runs to the United States, hoping it was a mistake, and Mr. Wilkins wasn't there; and then I runs to this place and that place, and Mr. Wilkins wasn't there; and, as Mrs. Sniggles said, Mr. Wilkins wasn't nowhere, but 'twas all diddle, and throwing dust in my eyes. And so, as for this here account, one hundred and forty-one dollars sixty—"
"Don't controvert no one," said Mr. Snip, who had listened all agape to the outpourings of the other, and now turned his battery upon me again, "but can't think of keeping the account open no longer; don't want to be hard upon any gentleman, but must have my money."
"One hundred and forty-one dollars sixty cents," said Sniggles.
"Two hundred and thirty-seven," said Snip.
But why should I detail the particulars of that eventful hour? Even Tickle's courage sank before the fire of the enraged assailants; and as for mine, had it been fortified by a heart of steel and ribs of brass, it must have yielded to the horrors that followed. Duns follow the same laws as flies and carrion-crows; no sooner does one swoop at a victim, than down drop a thousand others to share the feast. Scarce had my landlord and the tailor begun the assault, when there sneaked into the room a consumptive-looking fellow, smelling strongly of leather and rosin, who displayed a greasy scrap of paper, and added his pipe to the others. Then came another, with inky hands, a black spot on his nose, and a new hat under his arm; then another, and another, and another; until I believe there were fourteen different souls in the room (or ratherbodies, for I don't think they had one soul among them), all of them armed with long bills, all clamorous for their money, and all (each being encouraged by the example of the others) as noisy, mad, and ferocious as any mob of free and independent republicans I ever laid eyes on. Such a siege of dunning was perhaps never endured, except by a poor dandy. They dunned and they dinned, they poked out their ugly bills, and they gave loose to their inhuman tongues,—in a word, they conducted in such a manner that I was more than once inclined to jump out the window, being driven to complete desperation.
In the midst of all, and when I saw no escape whatever from my persecutions, they were brought to a close by a most unexpected incident. The door flew open, and in rushed—not a fifteenth tormentor, as I expected—but an angel of light in the person of Nora Magee, who screamed out at the top of her voice,—
"Och, hinny darlint, your uncle, Misther Wiggins, has come! and in a beautiful carriage! and he looks as if he could pay your ditts twice over! Sure, now, and ye'll ax him for my tin dollars?"
Let the reader judge of the effect of such an announcement upon my tormentors and myself. I had an uncle, then, and he had arrived—nay, he had paid me a visit, and was in the house; I could hear him stumping up the stairs! My debtors were struck dumb, and so was I; and at that moment of confusion he stepped into the room. I looked at the gentleman, and, upon my soul, I was somewhat disappointed. His appearance was scarce genteel enough formyuncle; he looked like a country squire of low degree, who might pass for a man of quality better in an unsophisticated village of the backwoods than anywhere else; and he had an atrocious white fur hat, with a big brim all puckered and twisted like the outer casing of a cabbage. There was a vulgar vivacity and good-nature about his visage, an air of presumption and familiarity in his motions, and his nose turned up. On the whole, I did not like his appearance, and my first impulse was to give him a look of contempt; but I recollected he was my uncle, and had come in a carriage; and seeing him stand staring about in great astonishment, as not knowing what to make of such a rout of ragamuffins as I had about me, nor how to distinguish his nephew among them, I stepped up to him, and taking him by the hand, said,—
"My dear saw, ah! looking for me? What! my uncle Wiggins?"
"Wiggins!" said he; "ods bobs, don't you know the name of your own uncle Wilkins?"
"Wiggins?" said I; "ged, 'twas a mere slip of the tongue."
"Ods bobs!" said he, "and is this you, Ikey, my boy? The very picture of your aunt, poor Mrs. Wilkins! but, ods bless her, she's dead. Ha'n't seen you since you was a baby; do declare, you're as big as Sammy. Come to live in your town, Ikey, my dear; tired of living among the clodhoppers; have plenty of money, and mean to be a gentleman now. Glad to see you, Ikey; but I say, Ikey, who is all these here people? Always heard you was a great gentleman; but don't much like your acquaintance, Ikey."
This was pronounced in an under voice, much to my satisfaction; for the liberty the old gentleman took with my name was not grateful to my feelings.Ikey, indeed! None but a vulgarian would have made so free with me.
But he was my uncle, he said he was rich, and I perceived he might be made serviceable.
I shook him by the hand a dozen times over, swore "I was so glad to see him he could not conceive;" assured him—in his ear—the fellows he saw were ambitious cobblers and stitchers, who had come to beg my favour and recommendation to the fashionable circles, for my countenance was a fortune, and the rascalswouldpersecute me; declared my friend Tickle, who stood enjoying the scene from a corner, was a young blood and intimate, who had just lent me a thousand dollars to pay a poor fellow who was in distress; and concluded by assuring him, that as I did not like being obliged to a mannota near kinsman, I would hand the sum back again, and borrow it ofhimif he had brought so much to town with him.
The warm welcome with which I began my speech greatly delighted my uncle's heart, as I saw; my apology for the appearance of the duns, it was evident, caused him to look upon me as a young fellow of great importance and distinction; the reference to the young blood who had just lent me a thousand dollars, confirmed his opinion of my lofty stand among the rich and fashionable; and to all these members of my discourse he hearkened with respect and satisfaction; but when I arrived at my climax, and professed a readiness to borrow that sum of himself, I thought his eyes would drop out of his head, they stared out so far. In a word, I perceived that, let him be as rich as he might, he was not the man to lend me money; for which reason I despised the relationship more than ever, and resolved to disown it as soon as my convenience would permit. But it was proper to make it useful at the present moment.
I turned round upon my duns, who were yet in confusion. "Gentlemen," said I, giving them a bow of dismission, "I will remember your claims; you may depend upon me; but at present, as you see, I must attend to those of my excellent uncle. You understand me, ehem."
"Ehem," said they all; and I thought they would have all turned somersets, so profound were their congees, as, one by one, they sneaked out of the room. The only ones who hesitated were my landlord, Nora Magee, and Snip the tailor. The first was probably overcome by a sense of having dunned me too hard, and despair of forgiveness; on which supposition I gave him a frown, and waved my hand, and he retired. As for Nora, she perhaps loitered to feast her eyes with the spectacle of the rich man, from whose pockets were to be drawn her ten dollars; but I gave her a wink (a very vulgar way of conveying a hint, I confess—but one can't be genteel with one's creditors), and she rolled smiling away. What kept the tailor I could not say; till, having given him divers significant looks and gestures, he began to drawl out, "Can't controvert no gentleman, but—" when I stepped up to him, took him by the arm, and led him from the apartment.
"What, you dog," said I, in a familiar, affectionate sort of way, as soon as I had him out of my uncle's hearing, "do you want to raise a hubbub, and put the old fellow in a passion? Come, you rogue, your fortune's made:—seven grown sons—seven broadcloth suits a year (extravagant dogs they!)—shall have them all, you shall, upon my honour: can twist the young apes round my finger, and you shall have'em. Seven times seven is forty-nine, seven fifties is three thousand and odd; 'ged and demmee, you'll make a fortune out of them!"
With that I pushed the giggling cormorant down stairs, and ran back to my uncle.
"Adieu!" said Tickle, giving me a nod, as much as to say, "Make the most of the old gentleman;" he then imitated the duns, and left me; a circumstance for which I was not sorry, for I was somewhat ashamed of my uncle.
"Fine-looking young fellow that," said Mr. Wilkins; "must be a rich dog to lend you a thousand dollars. But I say, Ikey—"
"Uncle Wiggins—that is, Wilkins," said I, "I beg you won't call me by any such vulgar nickname as Ikey. I can't abide nicknames; they are horrid plebeian."
"Ods bobs," said my uncle, "I call my son Sammy, Sammy and Sam too—"
"What," said I, "have you a son?"
"Ods bobs!" said he; "why, didn't you know? I say, nevvy, your dad and me was never good friends; proud as a turkey-cock—thought me a democrat and no great shakes, but I snapped up his sister though; and so there was never no love lost between us: never knew much about one another, especially him. But I say, nevvy, ods bobs, don't be a fool, and despise like your dad; could buy him six times over if he was alive, and don't suppose you're much richer; and don't value you a new pin. Don't pretend you didn't know I had a son; might as well say you didn't know I had a daughter."
The old gentleman looked somewhat incensed: I hastened to pacify him, by assuring him I had had a violent fit of sickness and lost my memory. I then drew from him without difficulty as much of his history and affairs as I cared to know.
Although of a vulgar stock, his face had, somehow or other, captivated the fancy of my father's sister, who very ungenteelly ran off with him, and accompanied him to some interior village of the state, where the happy swain sold tapes and sugar, that being his profession. Here, although discountenanced and despised by his wife's family, he gradually amassed wealth, and in course of time mightily increased it, by laying his hands on those four great staples of the Susquehanna, iron, lumber, coal, and whiskey. In fine, having scraped together enough for his purpose, he yielded to a design which his wife had first put into his plebeian head, and which his children, as they grew up, took care to stimulate into action: this was, to exchange his village for the metropolis, his musty warehouses for elegant saloons, and live, during the remainder of his life, a nabob and gentleman; and in this design, as I discovered, he expected to derive no little aid from my humble self, who, being, as he said, a gentleman cut and dried, and knowing to all such matters, could give him a hint or two about high life, and help his children, the hopeful Sammy and the interesting Pattie (for such were their horrid names), into good society. The first step of his design he had already taken, having wound up his business and got him to Philadelphia, with his brats, both of whom were now safely lodged in a hotel, burning to make the acquaintance of their fashionable cousin, my distinguished self; and to these worthy kinsfolk he proposed to carry me forthwith.
I debated the matter in my mind: Should I acknowledge the claims of a brace of rustics with two such names? Sammy Wilkins! Pattie Wilkins! I felt that an old coat or a patched shoe could not more endanger my reputation, than two cousins named Sammy and Pattie. But the old man was rich, and some good might arise from my condescension. I agreed to go with him, and asked him at what hotel he had put up.
"Oh," said he, "at a mighty fine place—the What-d'-ye-call-it, in Market-street."
"In Market-street!" said I, and I thought his nose looked more democratic than ever. "Horrible! vulgar beyond expression! How came you to stop in such a low place? Can't expect any decent man to go nigh you. Must carry you to Head's without a moment's delay, or you'll be ruined for ever."
"Ods bobs," said my uncle, "it's a very good tavern, with eating and drinking for a king; but if it's not fashionable, sha'n't stay there no longer; shall go with us, nevvy, and show us the way to What-d'-ye-call-it's. The hack will just hold four."
Igo to a tavern in Market-street? The idea was offensive; and ride thither, and afterward, my three country kinsfolk with me, to Head's, in a hackney-coach! The Market-street tavern and the hackney-coach finished my uncle Wilkins. I suddenly recollected a highly important engagement, which would deprive me of the pleasure of going round with my excellent uncle that moment, to make the acquaintance of my worthy cousins; nay, I feared it would occupy me all that evening, being an engagement of a very peculiar nature. I would see them the next day, when they were safely lodged at Head's, whither I recommended Mr. Wilkins to proceed, bag and baggage, instanter. My uncle accepted my excuses, and agreed to follow my advice, with a ready docility that might have pleased me, seeing that it showed the respect in which he held me; but I perceived in it nothing more than a willingness to be put into leading-strings, arising from his consciousness of inferiority.
I got rid of him, and resolved I would consider the pros and cons before compromising my reputation by any public acknowledgment of relationship.
Then, being vastly tired by the varied business of the day, I threw myself on my bed, where I slept during the remainder of the day very soundly and agreeably.
I was roused about nine o'clock in the evening by Tickle, who came, according to promise, to squire me to Mrs. Pickup's and the Misses Oldstyle's; and dressing myself in Mr. Dawkin's best, I accompanied him forthwith to the mansion of the former.
It was yet summer, and the season of gayety was therefore afar off. All genteel people were, or were supposed to be, out of town, according to the rule which, at this season, drives the gentry of London to their country-seats. The few of Philadelphia who could imitate the lords and ladies in this particular, were now catching agues on the Schuylkill; while the mass, consisting of those whose revenues did not allow any rustication on their own lands, were killing sand-flies on the seashore, or gnawing tough beef and grumbling over bad butter at some fashionable watering-place in the interior. There were some, however, as there always are, who considered themselves genteel, and who stayed at home, either because they were tired of agues, sand-flies, tough beef, and bad butter, as they freely professed; because they really believed they were better off at home; or because they were, like me and my friend Tickle, not rich enough to squander their money on vanities, and so stayed at home from necessity.
Of such persons one can always, even in summer-time, assemble enough to make a party of some kind or other, where the contented guests can be uncommonly sociable, eat ices, and pity their friends, who may be at the moment roasting in a ball-room at Saratoga.
It was undoubtedly a great misfortune that I should make my first introduction to good society at a time when it was to be seen only in its minimum of splendour; whereby I lost the opportunity of being dazzled to the same degree in which I found myself capable of dazzling others. Nevertheless, I was vastly captivated by what I saw, and for the few brief weeks that my destiny permitted me to live among the refined and exclusive, I considered myself an uncommonly happy individual.
The reception I met at Mrs. Pickup's convinced me that, in entering Mr. Dawkins's body, I had done the wisest thing in the world; for, however much it endangered me with the tailors, it proved the best recommendation to the ladies. I found myself ushered into a suite of apartments magnificently furnished and lighted, and not so over crowded (for the season was taken into consideration) but that the moschetoes had room to exercise their talents. I thought I should be devoured by Mrs. Pickup, she was so amazingly glad to see me; but I perceived, by a sort of instinct I had acquired along with Dawkins's body, that there was something plebeian about her, although a very fine woman as far as appearances went; and, indeed, Tickle assured me she was a mereparvenue, or upstart, whom everybody despised, and whom no one would come nigh, were it not for her wealth, and the resolution she avowed to give six different balls of the most splendid character in the course of the season. She had a daughter, who was very handsome, and a decided speculation; but I did not think much of her, especially as I found she was already engaged to be married.
I found here that I knew everybody, or, what was the same thing, that everybody knew me; and, with Tickle's help, I soon found myself as much at home with Mr. I. D. Dawkins's fair acquaintances as if I had known them all my life. It was still, as it had been before, a virtue and peculiarity of my recollections, that they were always roused by a few words of conversation with any one known to my prototype; from which I infer, that the associations of the mind, as well as many of its other qualities, are more dependant upon causes in the body than metaphysicians are disposed to allow.
This dependance it has been my fate to know and feel more extensively, perhaps, than any other man that ever lived. The spirit of Sheppard Lee was widely different from those of John H. Higginson and I. D. Dawkins, as, I think, the reader must have already seen; and yet, no sooner had it entered the bodies of these two individuals, than the distinction was almost altogether lost. Certain it is, that in stepping into each, I found myself invested with new feelings, passions, and propensities— as it were, with a new mind—and retaining so little of my original character, that I was perhaps only a little better able to judge and reason on the actions performed in my new body, without being able to avoid them, even when sensible of their absurdity.
I do verily believe that much of the evil and good of man's nature arises from causes and influences purely physical; that valour and ambition are as often caused by a bad stomach as ill-humour by bad teeth; that Socrates, in Bonaparte's body, could scarce have been Socrates, although the combination might have produced a Timoleon or Washington; and, finally, that those sages who labour to improve the moral nature of their species, will effect their purpose only when they have physically improved the stock. Strong minds may be indeed operated upon without regard to bodily bias, and rendered independent of it; but ordinary spirits lie in their bodies like water in sponges, diffused through every part, affected by the part's affections, changed with its changes, and so intimately united with the fleshly matrix, that the mere cutting off of a leg, as I believe, will, in some cases, leave the spirit limping for life.
But, as I said before, I am not writing a dissertation on metaphysics, nor on morals either; and as my adventures will suggest such reflections to all who care to indulge them, I will omit them for the present, and hasten on with my story.
And here the reader may expect of me a description of those scenes and persons in fashionable life to which and whom I was now introduced; and if I valued the reader's approbation at a higher price than my own conscience and reputation, I should undoubtedly gratify him, by putting my imagination in requisition, and painting at once some dozen or two of such fanciful pictures as are found in novels of fashionable life, though never, I opine, in fashionable life itself. In such I should have occasion to represent gentlemen more elegant and witty, and ladies more charming and ethereal, than are to be found in any of the ordinary circles of society; but, as I am writing truth and not fiction, and represent things as I found, not as I imagined them, I declare that the ladies and gentlemen of the exclusive circles to which I was admitted, were very much like the ladies and gentlemen of other circles —that is, as elegant and witty as they could be, and as charming and celestial as it pleased Heaven:—and that, after due exercise of judgment and memory, I cannot, in the adventures of three whole weeks in such society, remember a single person or thing worth describing. For which reason I will pass on to more important matters.
Although I now look upon those three weeks of my life as three weeks of existence out of which I cheated myself, I was nevertheless so greatly delighted at first by the way in which I spent them, that I had almost forgotten my uncle Wilkins; and when I did think of him, it was only with renewed contempt and indifference. Finding, however, that the old fellow had called upon me three or four times during my absence from my lodgings, on as many different days, and remembering what he had said of his riches, it occurred to me that I might as well pay him a visit, were it only to satisfy Mr. Sniggles and Nora Magee, both of whom manifested great uneasiness at my undutiful conduct. It occurred to me, moreover, that although my uncle Wilkins was not a lending man, my cousin Sammy might be; and as I had now existed four different days without a single sixpence in my pocket, and began to be heartily ashamed of such a state of things, I thought it would be as well to pay the rustics a visit; and putting on a new coat which Snip had just sent me, to seal our reconciliation and secure my seven extravagant cousins, I started off forthwith.
As my evil luck would have it, I found the old gentleman on the point of setting out to pay me a fifth visit, and I had the satisfaction, just as I placed my foot on the porch of the hotel, in full view of some half a dozen respectable-looking people who were congregated there, to receive an embrace from Mr. Samuel Wilkins, with the old white fur hat, accompanied by a vocal salutation of, "Oho! Ikey, my boy, and so youhavecome, have you? Ods bobs, but I began to think you was ashamed of your relations.!"
"Not I," said I; "I am never ashamed of my relations." And I looked around me with dignity, so that all present might perceive I was condescending. I supposed I should find some of the spectators giggling, but was agreeably surprised when I beheld among them nothing but grave looks of respect. Indeed, two or three old gentlemen that I knew by sight, and who were what you call "stanch citizens"—that is, rich old fellows, not very genteel, but highly respected—made me low bows; and I heard one of them, as I passed with my uncle into the hotel, whisper to another, "It is the rich old rascal's nephew; quite a promising young man."
I began to feel a greater esteem for my uncle, for I saw that others respected him. Everybody seemed to know him and make way for him; seeing which, I grew more condescending than ever, and instantly began to apologize for my seeming neglect, by pleading that I had been engaged night and day in preparing the way for the admission of him and my cousins, Sammy and Pattie, into good society.
"You want a house in a fashionable quarter," said I—
"Ods bobs," said he, "yes; and I've been looking all over town, from the glass-works down to the navy-yard, and seen a power of them."
"I flatter myself I can suit you," said I, "and better than you can yourself. Besides," said I, "I have been looking for carriages and horses."
"Why," said my uncle, "it's expensive keeping horses in a city; and I was against it; but there's Pattie says we can't do without 'em."
"Exactly so," said I: "you must live like a gentleman, or there's no getting or keeping in society. And, besides, I have been stirring up the beaux and belles to come and see my cousin, the fair—I say, uncle, eged, has she no other name than Pattie?"
"Yes," said my uncle Wilkins, "there's Abby,—that's Abigail—Martha Abigail Wilkins; called her after her grandmother and aunt, and hoped aunt Abby would leave her something; but she didn't."
Martha Abigail Wilkins! Worse and worse; I despaired of doing any thing, if I even wished it, for a creature with such a name.
But what I had done—that is, what IsaidI had done (for I had done nothing), had produced a great effect on my uncle, and put him into such a good-humour with me, that he seized me by the hand, swore I was the right sort of a dog after all, and, reaching the door of his private parlour, where the fair Martha Abigail was sitting, he kicked it open, crying aloud,
"Here, Pattie, you puss, here's your cousin Ikey, the dandy—as fine a whole-hog fellow as ever you saw—ods bobs, give 'm a buss."
I looked upon the unsophisticated rustic who was called upon to manifest her breeding in such an agricultural style; and, upon my soul, I was quite surprised to find in her, the aforesaid Pattie Abigail, one of the nicest little creatures I had ever laid eyes on, of a most genteel figure, tolerably well dressed, considering she had been brought up in the country, and with a sweet, prudish face, that was quite agreeable to look on.
She smiled and she blushed, then laughed and blushed again; but, without waiting to be bidden a second time, tripped up to me, gave me both her hands, and saying, "Cousin Ikey, how do you do?" with a voice that was charming in every word save one—the infernal "Ikey"—she very innocently turned her cheek up to be saluted.
I felt myself called upon to give her a lesson in politeness, and therefore put my lips to her hand, saying, Cousin P—P—Pattie—ehem, the girls will all call her petty-patty—Petty-patty Wilkins—I beg your pardon; but it is quite ungenteel and vulgar to kiss a lady; that is to say, in common cases. But—"As I spoke, I admired her beauty the more, and began to think the etiquette in such cases was absurd—But, as we are cousins, I think that alters the case entirely."
And with that I paid my respects to her cheek, and, upon my soul, was rather gratified than otherwise. Nay, and upon an instinct which I know not whether I owed to my soul or body, I made an offer to repeat the ceremony, that I might be as condescending as possible; when the little minx, to my surprise and indignation, lifted up one of the hands I had dropped, and absolutely boxed me on the ear, starting away at the same time, and saying, with a most mischievous look of retaliation,
"I reckon I know manners as well as anybody."
"Ged, and upon my soul!" said I, and marched up to the glass to restore my left whisker to its beauty, for she had knocked it out of its equilibrium, while my uncle Wilkins fell foul of her, and scolded her roundly for her bad behaviour.
"It don't signify, pa," said the amiable Pattie, bursting into tears, "I served cousin Ikey no worse than cousin Ikey served me; for when I wanted him to kiss me he wouldn't; and if he had boxed my ear it wouldn't have been half so bad; for it was very rude of him not to kiss me, and say it was vulgar, and he can't deny it."
I have mentioned before, I think, the surprising facility women seem to have of turning the tables upon a man, in any contest that may happen between the sexes; for, let a man be never so much in the right, my head for it, the woman will soon prove him to be in the wrong.
I found the truth of the maxim on the present occasion; for there was the pretty Pattie, who had just shocked my sensibilities, wounded my self-love, violated my dignity, and disordered my whisker, by a buffet on the cheek, extremely well laid on, considering the youth and sex of the bestower, now weeping and bewailing the injury I had done her, in moralizing over a kiss before taking it. It occurred to me she was an uncommon goose; but she looked so wonderfully handsome, pouting her lips with such a beautiful pettishness, that I was convinced I had treated her very badly; for which reason I stepped up to her, and begged her pardon so penitently, that she relented and forgave me, and we were soon in a good-humour with one another.
She seemed to me to be an odd creature, disposed to be whimsical and funny, and I rather feared she was, at bottom, witty. I say, I feared she was witty; and lest the reader should draw wrong inferences from the expression, I think it right to inform him, that, while recording my adventures in the body of Mr. I. D. Dawkins, I feel my old Dawkins habits revived so strongly in my feelings, that I cannot avoid giving some of the colouring of his character to the history of his body. I do not presume to say what women should be, or what they should not: in confessing a fear that my cousin Pattie was witty, I only record the horror with which I, while a dandy, in common with all others of the class, regarded any of the sex who were smarter or more sensible than myself.
My cousin Pattie was, then, odd, whimsical, and, I feared, witty; but that remained to be proved. She certainly acted in a manner highly unsophisticated, which arose from her youth (for my uncle told me she was not yet eighteen), and her country breeding. She had divers rusticities of speech, and a frankness of spirit that would at any moment burst out in weeping and wailing, or a fit of romping; all which was horridly ungenteel, and a great objection to genteel people taking notice of her.
But, on the other hand, she was a positive beauty; and although she slouched about sometimes, when forgetful, her movements were commonly graceful and lady-like.
My judgment was therefore favourable: beauty, grace, good clothes, and a grammatical way of speaking, were, as far as I knew, the only requisites for a fine woman, and I thought it was possible to make her one. The two first requisites she already possessed: good clothes were to be had of a good milliner; and as for her conversation, I flattered myself I could, in a few lessons, teach her to subdue all redundances; for in that particular she wanted nothing but pruning.
Having made these observations in the course of a ten minutes conversation, I perceived I had no longer any reason to be ashamed of her; but, on the contrary, to congratulate myself on the relationship. Then, permitting myself to be affectionate and frank, as a near kinsman should, I gave her freely to understand, that, with a little advice and training, which I would undertake to give her in a few lessons, she would be fit to shine in the very best society: an admission that set my uncle into an ecstasy of delight and triumph, while it somewhat discomposed the fair Pattie. She gave me a hearty stare (a thing I was glad to see, for it looked lady-like), then coloured (a circumstance I did not approve so much, since blushing is girlish and ungenteel), and then burst out a laughing, and concluded by seizing upon my hand, giving it a yeomanly shake, and saying,
"Very well, cousin Ikey, you shall be my schoolmaster, and teach me all you know; and, as you say, I think you can teach me in a very few lessons."
And here she looked as meek, and quiet, and almost as sanctimonious, as any saint I ever saw of a Sunday.
"Very good," said I; "and the first lesson I will give you is, never to call me 'Ikey' again, for that's vulgar; but always 'Mr. Dawkins,' or just plain 'cousin;' or, as we are so nearly related, why, I don't care if you call me by my middle name, 'Dulmer.'"
"Wouldn't 'Dully' be better?" said she, as sweetly as could be: "it's more affectionate, and cousins ought to be affectionate."
"That's very true," said I; and, upon my soul, I thought her mouth was the handsomest I had ever seen; "it is very true, but it don't do to be too familiar; and, besides, Dully don't sound a whit better than Pattie. I wish to ged you had a better name thanthat; and yet it is the best of them all, for 'Martha' is kitchen-like, and 'Abigail' wash-womanly—"
"And Pat," said my cousin—
"Pat!" said I, struck with horror—
"Yes, Pat!" said she, looking as if she would cry again; "it is the most odious of nicknames, and there's my brother Sam, who calls me so all day long; and there's pa, who is not much better. But I say, cousin, I hope you'll takethemto schooling too. I won't say any thing about pa; but I reckon there's none of us will be the worse for a little rubbing up."
"Don't say 'reckon,'" said I, "nor 'Sam' neither. Ged, you have horrid names among you, but we'll do the best we can. Pattie—Miss Pattie Wilkins; well, the name is not so very bad. As for your brother, you must always call him 'brother;' occasionally you may say 'Wilkins,' and it will sound aristocratic, as being a family name. But I say, uncle, we can't do any thing till we have you in your own house; and, if you mean to pass for a man of quality, it must be a grand one—that is, as grand as can be had without building. I say, uncle, if you please, what do you hold yourself worth?"
"Ods bobs!" said my uncle, bristling up, "what's that any man's business? Never blab a man's capital, for—"
"Oh," said Pattie, "Pa's always thinking about trade and shop-keeping; but I'll tell you, for I know all about it, for he told me six months ago, and I know. He's worth two—" and here the little beauty looked as if she designed to make me her confidant at once, and swell my very soul with the greatness of her revealment—"he's worth two hundred and ninety thousand dollars; and when he dies he is to leave me half. A'n't it grand?"
"To leave youhalf! one hundred and forty-five thousand dollars?" said I, so confounded by a sudden idea that entered my mind that I could not even conceal it. "Hang it, if that's the case, but I shall certainly marry you, and snap up that hundred and forty-five myself."
"Wouldyou?" said the imp, looking so lovely, and innocent, and willing that I positively threw my arms around her neck, as if the matter were already settled.
"Ods bobs!" said my uncle, "none of your jokes here, nevvy!"
As for Pattie, she jumped out of my arms, though apparently more pleased with the rudeness than with my former want of enthusiasm, and ran laughing to a chair.
"None of your jokes here, nevvy, I say," cried Mr. Wilkins; "and don't talk to Pattie about marrying, for she has had enough of that already."
"I ha'n't, pa," said the daughter, beginning to cry again; "you're always twitting me with Danny. But I'm sure, if you're willing, I'd as lief marry my cousin Ikey—that is, cousin Dulmer—as anybody."
"Who's Danny?" said I.
My uncle looked black, but Pattie answered boldly,
"Why, my sweetheart, to be sure—Danny Baker—one of the truest sweethearts you ever saw; and oh, so handsome! But he was nothing but one of pa's clerks, and so we turned him off between us; and because I took his part, and said it was no great harm in him to like me, pa is always twitting me about him, and I can't abide it. If I am to be twitted about everybody that likes me, I should like to know where will be the end of it?"
I perceived that my little cousin had a good opinion of herself, which was proper enough; but I reprobated the good-will she extended to her admirer, telling her that all clodhoppers were to be despised, and that she must now think of being liked by none but fine gentlemen. My counsel, as I discovered afterward, was peculiarly acceptable to my uncle, and greatly increased his respect for me; and as for Pattie, she dried her eyes, and said "she had as much spirit as anybody, but Danny Baker was no fool, for all we might say of him."
In short, the interview was much more satisfactory than I had dared to anticipate; and finding my uncle and cousin were eager to have my instructions and assistance, so as to begin the world as soon and with as much eclat as possible, I summoned my wisdom, and laid down the law to them forthwith. A house was to be immediately had; and recollecting the state of Mr. Periwinkle Smith's affairs, I recommended that my uncle should make proposals for his dwelling, which was just the house required, and which I supposed Mr. Smith, or the sheriff for him, would soon bring to the hammer. Nay, in the exuberance of my affection, I offered to begin the negotiation myself, and visit Mr. Periwinkle Smith that day; whereby I might have an opportunity to return my thanks for his friendly assistance at the Schuylkill, without exciting any false hopes in the bosom of his daughter, which I feared might be the result if I went without an object.
I then discoursed on the subject of carriages and horses, furniture, tailors, and mantuamakers, and with such effect, that I perceived I should have the control of all my uncle's affairs, directing his expenses, and making all his purchases; which I saw would be highly advantageous in reinstating my credit, even if it led to no better profit.
Having debated these matters to my satisfaction and theirs, I was about taking my leave, when my cousin Sammy unexpectedly entered the apartment.
His appearance struck me dumb, and filled me with mingled terror and despair. What could I do with such a scarecrow? His appearance was death to my hopes of making the family fashionable. He was a raw youth of twenty or twenty-one, but six feet high, long-legged, lantern-jawed, and round-shouldered. He wore a white hat, like his father, but stuck upon his head with a happy contempt of order and symmetry; and his coat hung down in a straight line from his shoulders, as if cut to fit the wall of a house. He walked with a lazy, grave swagger, indicative of vast serenity of mind and self-regard, and—until I cured him of the habit—with both hands in his pockets. There was not an ounce of brain in his whole head, big as it was; though, from the gravity with which he stared and whistled one in the face (for staring and whistling were two of his greatest characteristics), it might have been supposed otherwise. I will not say the clown was ugly in visage or deformed in person; but he was a slouch from head to foot. One could see at a look that he considered himself a gentleman, that he lived in the country, and that the highest exercise of his gentility had been to stalk about from one mud-hole to another, with his hands in his pockets.
He did not seem at all daunted by my appearance, but, having surveyed me with his great staring eyes, he dragged one of his fists out of his pocket and gave me a friendly grasp, very much like the pinch of a bear. "Glad to see you; hope you're well," he said, and said no more, but remained observing me with extreme gravity during the remainder of the conference. When I got up to depart he rose also, and, though I could have well dispensed with such an escort, attended me to the door. He uttered not a word until we came within view of the bar, when the great oaf opened his lips, and said, with an extremely knowing look, "I say, Ikey, my boy, suppose we take a smaller?"
"Asmaller!" said I, indignantly; "gentlemen in a city never drink smallers."
"Well, then," said the goose, "I don't care if we go the whole gill."
"Come," said I, commiserating his ignorance, "you must never more talk of such things. None but vulgarians drink strong liquors; slings, cocktails, and even julaps are fit only for bullies. Gentlemen never drink any thing but wine."
"Wine's small stuff," said my kinsman, with great equanimity; "but I'm for any thing that's genteel, and dad says you're the boy for showing us. But, od rabbit it, it's a hard thing to play the gentleman in a place where you a'n't up to it; but I say, now, how do you think we'll do—me and Pat?"
I could scarce avoid laughing in the booby's face, he asked his question with such simplicity and complacency. I perceived that, notwithstanding his lazy serenity and stolid gravity, he was as anxious to be made genteel as either of the others, and quite as ready to submit to my guidance. I told him I had no doubt he would do very well when I had polished him a little, which I would soon do; and I resolved to begin the task without delay. I carried him to a private apartment, ordered a carriage, and a bottle of Chateau-Margaux to amuse us while it was getting ready, and gave him to understand I would immediately take him to a tailor's; and this I did in a very short time, to the infinite delight of my friend Snip, whom I ordered to make three or four different suits for him, without troubling myself to ask his opinion about either. I then carried him in the same way to a hatter, shoemaker, and man-milliner, leaving the jeweller, watchmaker, and so on, for a future occasion.
These important matters being accomplished, greatly to my own advantage, for I took care to speak of my uncle Wilkins in a way to produce the strongest effect, I ordered the coachman to drive up to Mr. Periwinkle Smith's, whither I thought I might as well proceed while I had a coach to carry me. I gave my gawky cousin to understand my business was to buy the house for his father, at which he expressed much satisfaction (for everybody in Philadelphia knows the house is a very fine one), and a desire to help me examine it; but telling him there were many fine ladies there, who must not see him till he was properly dressed, I charged him to wait for me in the coach until I returned.
I pulled the bell with a most dignified jerk, and asked for Mr. Smith. But the servant, who grinned with approbation as at an old acquaintance, and doubtless considered that he knew more about the matter than myself, as Philadelphia servants usually do, ushered me into the presence of Mr. Smith's fair daughter.
"Ah!" said I to myself, as I cast my eye around the apartment, and saw that her levee consisted of but a single beau—a stranger whom I did not know, but who, I learned afterward, was a young millionaire from Boston—"the world begins to suspect the mortgages, and friends are falling away. Poor dear Miss Smith!"—And I felt great compassion for her.
She seemed somewhat surprised at my appearance, and I thought she looked confused. She was a marvellous fine creature, and I was quite sorry she was not rich.
I saw she had a sneaking kindness for me yet; but it was not right to encourage her. I hastened, therefore, to express my thanks for the sympathy which I had been informed she had bestowed on me, on the memorable occasion of my dip in the Schuylkill; and regretted that the indisposition consequent upon that disaster had prevented my calling earlier. I had not met the fair lady at Mrs. Pickup's or the Misses Oldstyle's, or at the other two place where I had figured during the last four evenings; and although it was highly probable she knew my indisposition had not prevented my going to these places, yet my not seeing her made the excuse perfectly genteel and fair. Yet she looked at me intently—I thought sadly and reproachfully—for a moment, and then, recovering herself, expressed her pleasure to see me so well restored, and ended, with great self-possession, by presenting me to her new admirer. After this her manner was cooler, and I thought her pique rendered her a little neglectful. It was certain she wished me to observe that she had a high opinion of the new Philander; a circumstance to which I was not so indifferent as I ought to have been. But, in truth, she was an elegant soul, and the more I looked at her the more I regretted she was not a fortune. I felt myself growing sentimental, and, to check the feeling, I resolved to proceed to business.
I had no sooner asked after the old gentleman, and expressed a desire to see him, than she gave me a look that bewildered me. It expressed surprise and inquiry, mingled with what I should have fancied contempt, could I have believed anybody could entertain such a feeling for me. She rang the bell, ordered my desire to be conveyed to her father, and in a few moments I was requested to walk up stairs to his study, where I found him in company with a gentleman of the law and a broker, whose face I knew, and surrounded with papers.
"Ah!" said I to myself, "things are now coming to a crisis; he is making an assignment."
The gentleman of the law and the broker took their departure, and Mr. Periwinkle Smith gave me a hard look. I began to suspect what he was thinking of; he was perhaps looking for me to make a declaration in relation to his fair daughter.
That he might not be troubled with such expectation long, I instantly opened my business, and gave him to understand I came to make proposals (he opened his eyes and grinned) for his house (he looked astounded), which, I had heard, he was about to dispose of.
"Indeed!" said he, and then fell to musing a while. "Pray, Mr. Dawkins," said he, "who sent you upon this wise errand?"
I did not like his tone, but I answered I came on the part of my uncle, Samuel Wilkins, of Wilkinsbury Hall—for I thought it as well to make my kinsman's name sound lordly.
"Very good," said he; "but what made you suppose I intended to sell my property?"
I liked this question still less than the other, and mumbled out something about common report, "and the general talk of my acquaintance."
"Ah!" said he, "now I understand," giving me a grin which I did not. "Let us be frank with one another. There was something said about 'mortgages,' was there not?—a heavy weight on my poor estate?"
Thinking it was useless to mince the matter, I acknowledged that such was the report.
"And it is from the influence of that report I am to understand some of the peculiarities of your—that is to say, it is to that I am to attribute your present application? Really, Mr. Dawkins, I am afraid I can't oblige you; my house I like very well, and—But I'll admit you to a little secret;" and smiling with great suavity, he laid his hand on a pile of papers. "Here," said he, "are mortgages, and other bonds, to the amount of some seventy thousand dollars; they are my property, and not mortgages on my property. The truth is (and, as you are an old friend, I don't scruple to tell you), that having a little loose cash which I did not know what to do with, I took the advice of a friend, and invested it in the form in which you now see it, and I believe it is very safe. The story of the mortgages was quite true, only it was told the wrong way."
I was petrified, and stood staring on the old gentleman with awe and amazement.
"Some people," said he, very good-naturedly, "might doubt the propriety, and even the honourableness, of a private gentleman investing money in this way; but stocks are at a high premium, and many unsafe, and money can't lie idle:—I hope you are satisfied: I am quite sorry I can't oblige your uncle. My house, as I said, I like extremely well; and I have, besides, promised it as a wedding-present to my daughter."
Oh, ye gods of Greece and Rome! a wedding-present to his daughter! I resolved to make her a proposal without delay, and I thought I might as well break matters to the old gentleman.
"Your daughter," said I, "your beloved and excellent daughter—"
"Will doubtless always be happy to welcome her old friend and admirer, Mr. Dawkins," said he; and I thought he looked beautiful—though I never thought so before. He could not have spoken more plainly, I thought, if he had said "marry her," at once. I took my leave, intending to make love to her on the spot.
"I will have the pleasure to see you to the door," said the old gentleman, and to the door hedidsee me. I do not well know how it happened; but instead of entering the parlour again, I found myself led to the front door by the courteous Mr. Smith, and bowed handsomely out, to the great satisfaction of my cousin Sammy, who regarded proceedings from the carriage window.
"Good morning," said Mr. Periwinkle Smith; "I can't sell my daughter's house, but I should be glad to have you for a neighbour; and, now I recollect it, there's Higginson the brewer's house over the way there advertised for sale, and I am told it is very well finished."
"So amI," said I to myself, as the door closed on my face—"finished unutterably." It occurred to me I was turned out of the house; and the suspicion was soon very perfectly confirmed. I called on the fair Miss Smith the next day, and, though I saw her by accident through the window, I was met by the cursed fib—"not at home." The same thing was told me seven days in succession, and on the eighth I saw, to my eternal wo and despair, her marriage with my Boston rival announced in the papers. He lives in Philadelphia, and can confirm my story. But this is anticipating my narrative.
"I say, Dawkins," cried my cousin Sammy (I had cured him of the vulgar 'Ikey'), "what does the old codger say?"
These words, bawled by the rustic from the carriage window, woke me from a trance into which I had fallen, the moment Mr. Periwinkle Smith shut the door in my face.
"Didn't he say there was a house over the way?"
I remembered the words,—my own house for sale! I knew it well; it was just the thing wanted,—an elegant house, provided genteel people were in it. I was on the point of running over and securing it, when I remembered Mrs. Higginson. A cold sweat bedewed my limbs. "No!" said I, "I will go to Tim Doolittle—I can facehim."
To make matters short—for I have a long story to tell—I drove up to Higginson's brewery (it is now Doolittle and Snagg's, or was, when I heard last of it), saw my late brother-in-law, whom I thought a very plebeian body, and made such progress with him, that in three days' time (for my Margaret had gone to mourn in the country) the house changed owners, and my uncle Wilkins marched into it as master, followed by Sammy and Pattie.
Three days after I had established my uncle in his new house, the fair Miss Smith was married.
It was a great blow to me, and I mused with melancholy on the fickleness of the sex, wondering what it was in woman's nature that enabled her so easily to change from one love to another. I considered myself very badly used; and the more I thought of the wedding-present, and the seventy thousand dollars in bonds and mortgages, the more deeply did I feel my loss. I read the announcement of her marriage in the newspaper, cursed her inconstancy and hard-heartedness, and gave myself up to grief the whole morning. She had certainly used me ill, but by dinner-time I remembered I had served her pretty much in the same way.
Besides, my cousin Pattie (I always dined with my uncle Wilkins, of course, and intended soon to live with him altogether) looked uncommonly handsome, and "Who knows," said I to myself, "whether she won't havemorethan Miss Smith, after all?" In addition to this great consolation, I had another in a few days; and the two together quite comforted me for the loss of Periwinkle's daughter. But of this in its place.