The Sketches of Seymour, Robert Seymour [reading books for 7 year olds .txt] 📗

MARGATE.

ANDREW MULLINS. - AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
CHAP. I. Introductory
CHAP. II. Let the neighbors smell ve has
something
CHAP. III. I wou'dn't like to shoot her exactly
CHAP. IV. A Situation.
CHAP. V. The Stalking Horse.
CHAP. VI. A Commission.
CHAP. VII. The Cricket Match
CHAP. VIII. The Hunter.
CHAP. IX. A Row to Blackwall.
CHAP. X. The Pic-Nic.
CHAP. XI. The Journey Home.
CHAP. XII. Monsieur Dubois.
CHAP. XIII. My Talent Called into Active Service.
CHAP. XIV. A Dilemma.
CHAP. XV. An Old Acquaintance.
CHAP. XVI. The Loss of a Friend.
CHAP. XVII. Promotion.

A RIGMAROLE.
PART I. "De omnibus rebus."
PART II. "Acti labores Sunt jucundi"
PART III. "Oderunt hilarem tristes."

AN INTERCEPTED LETTER FROM DICK SLAMMER TO HIS FRIEND SAM FLYKE.
PLATE I. Dye think ve shall be in time for the
hunt?
PLATE II. Vat a rum chap to go over the 'edge
that vay!


EVERYDAY SCENES.


SCENE I.

"Walked twenty miles over night: up before peep o' day again got a capital place; fell fast asleep; tide rose up to my knees; my hat was changed, my pockets picked, and a fish ran away with my hook; dreamt of being on a Polar expedition and having my toes frozen."


O! IZAAK WALTON! - Izaak Walton! - you have truly got me into a precious line, and I certainly deserve the rod for having, like a gudgeon, so greedily devoured the delusive bait, which you, so temptingly, threw out to catch the eye of my piscatorial inclination! I have read of right angles and obtuse angles, and, verily, begin to believe that there are also right anglers and obtuse anglers - and that I am really one of the latter class. But never more will I plant myself, like a weeping willow, upon the sedgy bank of stream or river. No! - on no account will I draw upon these banks again, with the melancholy prospect of no effects! The most 'capital place' will never tempt me to 'fish' again!

My best hat is gone: not the 'way of all beavers' - into the water - but to cover the cranium of the owner of this wretched 'tile;' and in vain shall I seek it; for 'this' and 'that' are now certainly as far as the 'poles' asunder.

My pockets, too, are picked! Yes - some clever 'artist' has drawn me while asleep!

My boots are filled with water, and my soles and heels are anything but lively or delighted. Never more will I impale ye, Gentles! on the word of a gentleman! - Henceforth, O! Hooks! I will be as dead to your attractions as if I were 'off the hooks!' and, in opposition to the maxim of Solomon, I will 'spare the rod.'

Instead of a basket of fish, lo! here's a pretty kettle of fish for the entertainment of my expectant friends - and sha'n't I be baited? as the hook said to the anger: and won't the club get up a Ballad on the occasion, and I, who have caught nothing, shall probably be made the subject of a 'catch!'

Slush! slush! - Squash! squash!

O! for a clean pair of stockings! - But, alack, what a tantalizing situation I am in! - There are osiers enough in the vicinity, but no hose to be had for love or money!


SCENE II.

A lark - early in the morning.


Two youths - and two guns appeared at early dawn in the suburbs. The youths were loaded with shooting paraphernalia and provisions, and their guns with the best Dartford gunpowder - they were also well primed for sport - and as polished as their gunbarrels, and both could boast a good 'stock' of impudence.

"Surely I heard the notes of a bird," cried one, looking up and down the street; "there it is again, by jingo!"

"It's a lark, I declare," asserted his brother sportsman.

"Lark or canary, it will be a lark if we can bring it down," replied his companion.

"Yonder it is, in that ere cage agin the wall."

"What a shame!" exclaimed the philanthropic youth, - "to imprison a warbler of the woodlands in a cage, is the very height of cruelty - liberty is the birthright of every Briton, and British bird! I would rather be shot than be confined all my life in such a narrow prison. What a mockery too is that piece of green turf, no bigger than a slop-basin. How it must aggravate the feelings of one accustomed to range the meadows."

"Miserable! I was once in a cage myself," said his chum.

"And what did they take you for?"

"Take me for? - for a 'lark.'"

"Pretty Dickey!"

"Yes, I assure you, it was all 'dickey' with me."

"And did you sing?"

"Didn't I? yes, i' faith I sang pretty small the next morning when they fined me, and let me out. An idea strikes me Suppose you climb up that post, and let out this poor bird, ey?"

"Excellent."

"And as you let him off, I'll let off my gun, and we'll see whether I can't 'bang' him in the race."

No sooner said than done: the post was quickly climbed - the door of the cage was thrown open, and the poor bird in an attempt at 'death or liberty,' met with the former.

Bang went the piece, and as soon as the curling smoke was dissipated, they sought for their prize, but in vain; the piece was discharged so close to the lark, that it was blown to atoms, and the feathers strewed the pavement.

"Bolt!" cried the freedom-giving youth, "or we shall have to pay for the lark."

"Very likely," replied the other, who had just picked up a few feathers, and a portion of the dissipated 'lark,' - "for look, if here ain't the - bill, never trust me."


SCENE III.

"You shall have the paper directly, Sir, but really the debates are so very interesting."

"Oh! pray don't hurry, Sir, it's only the scientific notices I care about."

What a thrill of pleasure pervades the philanthropic breast on beholding the rapid march of Intellect! The lamp-lighter, but an insignificant 'link' in the vast chain of society, has now a chance of shining at the Mechanics', and may probably be the means of illuminating a whole parish.

Literature has become the favourite pursuit of all classes, and the postman is probably the only man who leaves letters for the vulgar pursuit of lucre! Even the vanity of servant-maids has undergone a change - they now study 'Cocker' and neglect their 'figures.'

But the dustman may be said, 'par excellence,' to bear - the bell!

In the retired nook of an obscure coffee-shop may frequently be observed a pair of these interesting individuals sipping their mocha, newspaper in hand, as fixed upon a column - as the statue of Napoleon in the Place Vendome, and watching the progress of the parliamentary bills, with as much interest as the farmer does the crows in his corn-field!

They talk of 'Peel,' and 'Hume,' and 'Stanley,' and bandy about their names as familiarly as if they were their particular acquaintances.

"What a dust the Irish Member kicked up in the House last night," remarks one.

"His speech was a heap o' rubbish," replied the other.

"And I've no doubt was all contracted for! For my part I was once a Reformer - but Rads and Whigs is so low, that I've turned Conservative."

"And so am I, for my Sal says as how it's so genteel!"

"Them other chaps after all on'y wants to throw dust in our eyes! But it's no go, they're no better than a parcel o' thimble riggers just making the pea come under what thimble they like, - and it's 'there it is,' and 'there it ain't,' - just as they please - making black white, and white black, just as suits 'em - but the liberty of the press - "

"What's the liberty of the press?"

"Why calling people what thinks different from 'em all sorts o' names - arn't that a liberty?"

"Ay, to be sure! - but it's time to cut - so down with the dust - and let's bolt!"


SCENE IV.

"Oh! Sally, I told my missus vot you said your missus said about her." - "Oh! and so did I, Betty; I told my missus vot you said yourn said of her, and ve had sich a row!"


SALLY. OH! Betty, ve had sich a row! - there vas never nothink like it; - I'm quite a martyr. To missus's pranks; for, 'twixt you and me, she's a bit of a tartar. I told her vord for vord everythink as you said, And I thought the poor voman vould ha' gone clean out of her head!


BETTY.