BOOK THE SECOND. BY THE EDITOR. THE JAPANESE MINSTRELS (Continued.) CHAPTER II. SECRETS WORTH KNOWING. The room occupied by the individuals who had made so very free with Mrs. Lewis's porter, eggs, ham, and other eatables, was of somewhat larger dimensions than the shop, being in fact two rooms turned into one. Its size was, however, the least part of its peculiarity. Its furniture and occupants were the chief things which struck the eye, if not the understanding. It is a well-known fact, that however tidy, neat, clean, and comfortable a room may be, when given up into the sole custody of a single gentleman-without opportunity of any kind for a woman to exercise her wit and peculiar properties upon. it-it will become in a few hours a perfect wilderness, if not of sweets, of some other existing thing. But if so of one, who for a few days obtains possession of an apartment, what may be predicated of six men who had held their fortress unvisited by any of the gentler gender for between two and three months. Chaotic confusion were a very meek and tepid epithet to apply to it. The room was large, and had been built for a warehouse, having a door in the * Continued from page 90. NO. 1361. [1847. rear, which opened on the top of a steep flight of steps, or rather a ladder, which led into a small paved court, surrounded by unusually high walls, where the six men could occasionally solace themselves with the cheap and allowable luxury of a pipe. At one end was ranged a row of bells of fanciful form and make, with the usual sticks, &c., by which they were turned into musical instruments. Around these the room was kept clear and bare. At the other end was the parlour, kitchen and sleeping room of the six hermits or anchorites of the borough. At the time of which we now speak they were having their breakfast. Seated round a large deal table, with knives in their hands, and fisting huge hunches of bread, garnished by a goodly array of fat bacon, washed down by deep draughts of malt liquor, their appearance was original and novel if not agreeable. With closely shaven crowns, every vestage of hair, save a tail on the back of the head, had been removed, while this was cultivated with singular perseverance and assiduity. Long moustaches trained to hang, festoonlike, completed their hairiness of garb. Their costume was strange enough. Wrapped in loose gowns, with petticoats sewed so as to resemble pantaloons: their boots were of untanned leather. In fact their habiliments could be successfully compared to no known costume upon the habitable globe. Their beds, which were mattresses, laid endwise on the floor, had been summarily turned up against the wall; in fact one of the completest pictures of disorder was presented that could be easily realised to the mind. "Good morning, my lads," cried the man in the cloak. "Good morning," replied one of the lodgers, who rejoiced in the epithet of Chin-Chin. "You seem to enjoy your breakfast," observed the new arrival, surveying their operations with a smile. "Rather," said Chin-Chin. "It does." "What makes you so dry?" inquired the other, with some little of astonishment in his tones. "Thirst, master." "I mean in your talk." "Starving for a day." "Not starving, surely." 66 "By the nose of our emperor," replied So-Sli,* the second of the party; we were as near as a toucher bursting bounds and taking the first eating-house by storm." "In your present costume?" said the other drily. "It would have been awkward, but awkwarder still to starve." "Well, my lads, never mind this once," said the patron. "I have so arranged it shall not happen again." menced playing an overture, led by the violin of their patron. "Well, Mr. Jenkins!" said Chin-Chin, as soon as the music ceased. 66 'First-rate," replied Mr. Jenkins, with vast satisfaction; "two months more, and the pear will be ripe." "Two months!" exclaimed Chin-Chin, with an elongation of the face which seemed to heave the rest of his body. "Two months," re-echoed the whole party in melancholy chorus. "Not a day less," continned Jenkins; "in the first place, you are very far from perfection, and in the next, you must come out in the height of the season.' 66 "Oh, no, never mind," said Chin-Chin, “I am glad to hear it," replied Chin- and he muttered something, in which "my Chin. eyes" was all that was audible. "And now," said Jenkins, "having settled this business, to the other part of our lessons." 66 Ready," said Chin, smearing his face with his sleeve, which had unaccountably enough got a little damp. Jenkins here drew forth a number of notes, which he attentively perused for some minutes. "We must vary the tale a little," he said; "we must now suppose a smart fellow, some well-read old hunks, putting questions to bother you." "All right," said Chin-Chin. "Imagine me the old hunks," said Jen "At Matsmai, one of the Kurile Is- mistress," and get them legs, while I peels lands," said Chin. "Where is that island?" the 'tatoes," Tom Stop obeyed, and sallied forth to "Off the coast of Japan," replied the perform his task. other, with a grin. "How long did you remain there?" to the Mikado." Egad!" And after this fashion, Mr. Jenkins amused himself by making the most mi nute inquiries in connection with the kingdom of Japan, its Mikado, its Seogun, and other dignitaries. It seemed that he took the deepest geographical interest in that country; he wanted to know its length and its breadth, its population, to understand the nature of its government, and, in fact, to dive into a number of mysteries with which we cannot very clearly understand what he had to do. The oddest circumstance, however, was that he was all along giving instead of receiving information. At last, this geographical excursion was brought to a conclusion; and Mr. Jen kins, taking up his fiddle and his bow, pre. pared to depart, after giving a series of instructions to his followers, which were to be implicitly followed. "I say, governor," said Chin, "you recollect we had no dinner yesterday. Just order an extra leg of mutton, by way of dessert." "All right,” replied Jenkins, with a laugh; and going down stairs, he astonished the vacillating intellects of Mrs. Lewis and Tom Stop, by ordering three legs of mutton, twelve pounds of potatoes, and ale, &c., &c., for the dinner of six men. This was even more astounding than the breakfast, and burst very much like a full-grown thunder-clap upon the good woman. CHAPTER III. PREPARATIONS FOR A SIEGE. We left our friend, Frederick Wilson, in company with Mr. Wilkinson, Ben Jonson Walters, and Count Marino Rhino, after indulging in a copious breakfast. It was not, however, our hero's design to spend the whole day in such loose company. Frederick was now in better spirits than he had been for some time. For many months, he had scarcely heard the chink of one shilling against another; and now his pockets were full of gold. Though Frederick knew that this money ought not to have been his, that he had won it by gambling, still the peculiar circumstances in which he was placed made him only know the bright and sunny side of the picture. Void and vacant had been the heart of this young man for many years; and to those who know what voidness and vacancy means, no more miserable state of existence can be pictured. It may seem strange to some-it did to him—that one interview with a girl to whom he was so total a stranger should have changed his whole feelings. Such things are not common. Love at first sight is not an impossibility, though of rare occurrence. When it happens, the heart must be predisposed, by circumstances, to feel quickly and deeply. There must be some peculiarity of position, some more than common opportunity of knowing one another. By love at first-sight, we mean, not that visual sight which conveys nothing to the heart but the mere outward seeming of the man or woman; but that intellectual knowledge of one another's hearts which so rapidly follows the communion of thinking spirits. Take two human beings, with souls both capable of the deepest, the purest, the noblest feelings. So place them, that they shall, on the first occasion of meeting, pour forth their whole mind one unto the other; and they will love, if there be any tendency in them to the tender and the affectionate. After "But stir about, Tom," continued his events will only serve to confirm the opi "Arn't he a customer!" said Mrs. Lewis. "Why, what we buys over what he orders keeps us, Tom, don't it?" Tom Stop did not offer any answer; but it might have been observed that he shut one eye, put his fingers laterally along his nose, elevated one of his eyebrows, shook his head; thereby meaning to observe, for the private information of himself and Mrs. Lewis, that it was all right, and there could be no possible mistake about the matter, which, as far as they were mutually concerned, was true. nions formed at once, folly. or to show its should hope, but our nature spurns reality, and however unsubstantial may be the dream which promises happiness, we cling to it as to a dear and precious thing, and would not part from its visionary brightness for the real possession of some positive though trifling good. Now, Frederick Wilson was not in love with Mary Cartwright; but he knew that he should be, which was much, if not the very same thing. He saw it coming, like a stultified bull, that has wandered on a rail, does the ponderous locomotive that is to reduce him to impalpable powder; but Wilson treasured the hope that he should be in love. He rather liked it. The sensation was new; and Wilson, like most men, liked new sensations. Wilson, therefore, had no sooner concluded his breakfast, and smoked one or two cigars with his friends, than he politely intimated to them his desire that they would absent themselves. "The fact is," said Wilson, "I want to call on my tailor. I have not seen him for an age." "Have you got one?" observed Wilkinson. "I wish I had; I'd call too." 66 Why," said Wilson, good-humouredly, "I do not look as if I patronised the fraternity over much. But really, my dear friends, make yourselves quite at home. There's all the cigars; the liquor is on the table; order dinner, if you like." "By Jove, Wilson," said Wilkinson, "you are so excessively pressing," a sentiment which was far from feebly re-echoed by the rest of the company, we cannot but accept." 66 "Well, gentlemen, good morning. If I do not return before dinner, be not alarmed; I shall certainly be home to supper." And with this, Frederick made a low bow and departed from his castle, midst general thunder of applause, expressive of their high sense of his liberality. Wilkinson went so far as to rush to the top of the stairs, and cry, as loud as his shrill voice would permit: "One cheer more!" as Wilson made his final retreat. Meanwhile our hero, rich in the possession of his gold, but far richer in the possession of bright and gladsome hopeshopes of joy, hopes of love, went on his way rejoicing. Care, and misery, and gloom, utter want of any of those causes which rouse a man's ambition, of those stimulants which are needed to elevate man something above a mere worker for his daily bread, had hitherto been wholly wanting. There was no great reason now, why, in a solemn and reflective moment, he And well is it that it is so. Day-dreams and visions of the silent night, wishes, desires that scorch our hearts, prisoned as they are within ourselves, these are often the goads which urge us on: these hidden and unspoken thoughts are the causes of our exertion; our ambition, our hope steals impossibility from fate, and makes the wildest scheme which could conduce to our happiness, appear easy of attainment. We pursue a shadow, but, let us do justice to the world, this shadow sometimes becomes a substance. Wilson was somewhat puzzled with regard to his finances. He was determined to make a little figure in the world-that is his world of half a dozen inhabitants— and he well knew that the first requisite for making a figure amongst little people was to have a good coat upon his back, his feet encased in polished boots, a good beaver on his head, and a bandana hanging from his pocket, for one is now judged, not for what one is, but as we seem. The first visit paid, therefore, was to his worthy friend, Mr. Snip. Entering his shop, where never before had he been but to bargain for misfits, there was so unmistakeable a look of independence about him, that the tailor knew he must be a monied man for the nonce, and received him with proportionable cordiality. "Good day, sir. What can I do for you, sir," observed the polite and attentive disciple of Stultz. 66 "Why, a great deal," replied Wilson, "I want a suit of clothes, the very best you can make me, and, as I shall pay cash, I must have them by five o'clock to-morrow evening. Here are five pounds in advance." "It shall be done!" said the tailor, enthusiastically pocketing the five pounds, and producing his measure. We shall not follow Wilson through the whole of his journey that day. It will be sufficient to state that, in a few hours, he had laid out about twenty pounds upon his person, and felt the proud satisfaction of owning a wardrobe. With a light heart and a quick step he returned to his lodgings, in time to assist in the demolition of certain steaks, chops, and sausages, which Count Marino Rhino was deeply engaged in cooking: his return was hailed of course with great delight; and the whole party sat down to dinner with a keen relish, and a full determination for enjoyment known only to bachelors in difficulties, upon whom a sudden and unexpected ray of sunshine has fallen, and angels visit as far between and few as Sirius from the Bear. Dinner over, tea followed, as a matter of course, and then, after a ramble to several of the journals, in search of orders for the theatre, which they had some difficulty in finding, the whole party found themselves, about eight o'clock, in the upper boxes of Drury-Lane. In this questionable locality we leave them, to follow other actors in this eventful drama. CHAPTER IV. MISS CORNELIA POINTER'S GREAT STROKE. Miss Cornelia Pointer had heard of the sudden change in Wilson's circumstances, with surprise and astonishment, mingled with a certain fluttering of the heart, that, if not very comprehensible, was, at all events, very pleasant; at the same time that she was sincerely delighted at the event, for his own sake. Miss Cornelia liked Frederick Wilson; she did not disguise it. He was so very nice a young man, everybody must like him, she said, and why should she be singular? not that there could be anything else than neighbourly friendship in whatever she felt. Both lived in one house; they often met and passed upon the stairs; much oftener met and stopped. The gentleman had even been known to stand half an hour, perhaps more, inside her door with his hat in one hand and his candle in the other, when coming home of an evening. While the lady had on one occasion taken up a post-paid letter, placed it on the landing by his door, and having knocked discreetly, ran away. Now, all this was nothing: gentlemen talk to ladies at their doors, hat and candle in hand, and ladies may carry up letters to single gentlemen, without any absolute necessity for believ ing in any tender feeling on the part of either, as a natural consequence of so doing. But man is a fickle animal, and that Wilson was getting in love with Mary Cartwright was, therefore, no proof at all that his heart had never been touched by the charms of a Cornelia Pointer. If so, however, we will not say he never told his love, because he might have done so to the lady, but he never had to the world proclaimed that he was her humble and dutiful servant to command. What the lady's sentiments were, it would be scarcely discreet in us to say, for, did we tell all the tender secrets which we, as the historians of domestic life, become possessed of, we should have enough to do and to spare. Now, we will not say that Miss Pointer was at all of a mercenary disposition, but she believed with great truth and justice that pecuniary comfort, and the consequent absence of the bitter cares incident on po. verty, was a great advantage even when added to the charms of disinterested love. If Miss Cornelia Pointer had loved Frederick Wilson-perhaps she did-she would have married him without a penny. Now, however, that fortune seemed to favour him, he certainly was all the better match. As soon, accordingly, as all Miss Pointer's young ladies had departed, she summoned Mrs. Mussle to a cozy little supper, and to her counsels. The first question which naturally arose was relative to the present. Miss Pointer begun: "I do want, Mrs. Mussle, to have a comfortable little bit of chat with you, and how can one do so better than over the most comfortable of all daily meals-I love my supper-" "So do I," said Mrs. Mussle, with the utmost energy and decision of tone. "I love my supper," continued Miss Pointer, in accents which carried perfect conviction with them; "for what can be more pleasant, after the duties, toils, and labours of the day than to sit down and enjoy that which one has earned.” 66 Exquisite language," said the delighted Mrs. Mussle, casting her eyes up to the ceiling, in mute admiration of her friend's eloquence, and seeming to inform the plaster of her private opinion. 66 'Nonsense," said Miss Pointer, "though I have not lost all my education, I hope, even though reduced tc dress-making. But what will you have, Mrs. Mussle." |