I MISS SHUM'S HUSBAND DEAR HOLLYVER Y.-There was a pritty distubbance, as you may phancy, when your magaseen arrived in our hall and was read by all the men and gals there assambled. Fust there was coachmin: he takes his whig off when I comes into dinner, and boughing with a hair of mock gravity, drinks to 'Mr. Charles, the littery man.' Nex, Shalott, my lady's maid (a Frentch gal) says, 'O Jew, Maseer Shawl, vous eight ung belispre.' 'Will you have some bile mutton, Yellowplush,' cries cook; 'it's the leading Harticle of our dinner to-day.' Never, in fack, was such chaffin heard, the jockes and repparees flashin about lightnin. ‘I am,' said I, in a neat spitch, ‘I am a littery man—there is no shame in it in the present instins; though, in general, it's a blaggerd employment enough. But it ain't my trade-it isn't for the looker of gain that I sitt penn to payper-it is in the saycred caws of nollitch (Hear, hear). The exolted class which we have the honour to serve,' says I, 'has been crooly misreparysented. Authors have profist to describe what they never see. Pepple in Russle Square, and that vulgar naybrood, bankers, slissitors, merchints' wives, and indeed snobs in general, are, in their ideer of our manners and customs, misguided, delooded, HUMBUGGEDfor I can find no more ellygant espression-by the accounts which they received of us from them authors. Does BULWER,' says I, 'for instans, know anythink of fashnabble life? (Snears, and hallygorical cries of "Hookey," "How's your mother?" etc.) You jine with me in a pinion,' says I, 'and loudly hanser, No! Did SKELETON know anythink more? (Cries of "Hoff, hoff," from coachmin, "Fee dong," from my lady's maid.) No, no more nor Bulwer. It is against these impostors that I harm myself; and you, my friends, will applod my resolution.' The drawing-room bell had been ringing all this time like mad, and I was here obliged to finish my spitch, in a pint of porter to the health of the cumpny. On entring the room, I only found miss smilin and readin a copy of your Magazine. 'Papa has been ringing this half-hour, Chawls,' says she, 'and desires you will wait till he returns from the libry. And then Miss (Lucy her name is) simpered and stuttered, and looked down and looked up, and blushed, and seemed very od-bewtiful she always is. 'Chawls,' says she, a-summonsing her curridge, 'is this that is-is that I mean, is this article in Fraser's Magazine your composition?' 'It is, miss,' says I, lookin at her most tendrilly, 'an insignificant triffle from my pen.' 'It is the best Magazine in Eurup,' adds Miss Lucy. 'And no mistake.' 'Your article is really-very-amusing,' says she, blushin as red as a piany. 'Do you, do you think so, miss?' says I: 'miss, dear miss, if it gives you any pleasure, oh how amply it repays me!' I gev her, as I said this, one of my pecuniary loox-I never knew them loox fail with any woman at any hage. I was on my knees, as I said, quite appropo; for I had just been emptying coals from the skittle. I laid one of my hands on my left weskit, and said, 'O Miss Lucy!' in a voice of such excrooshiating tenderness, that I saw at once it was all up with her. But 'Hush!' cried she, all of a sudden; 'get up, sir-here's papa.' 6 And papa it was, sure enough. Sir Jeames came into the room very stately, and holdin a book in his hand. Chawls,' says he, 'we have been readin your artickle in Fraser's Magazine, and very much amused we was. High life was never so well described, or so authenticly. Pray, sir,' says he, 'may I ask is this review also yours?' and he holds up to me the Quotly Revew of October, on 'Ettykitt.' I saw at a glans that this was none of my doing. 'Sir,' says I, 'I never so much as see the thing.' 'Well, sir,' says he, 'take it, and read it, and go about your bisniss; and, harky, hanser the bell when it's rung next time.' Cuss the aristoxy, say I, for a set of proud tyrants, who won't reckonise the highest order of merit, genius. For the whole of that afternoon I shut myself in the pantry, and devoted myself to the perusal of that artickle. The author of it is particly proud, as I see, of the annygoats which he introjuices; and which are, though I say it, no more to my annygoats than wisky to milk and water. They are ingenus, they are pleasant (many of 'em being very old frens, and not the less welkim for that); but they are not the real thing-only a juke or a juke's footmin can do fashnabble life justice; and it is for that reason that I have determined to have another wack at magazine writin. In this artickle the author quotes fifteen or sixteen boox about politeniss. Nonsins! only experunce can give authority on the subject and experunce I have had. I felt conwinced that, to describ fashnabble life, ONE OF US must do the thing, to do it well; and I determined to give you a few passidges from my own autobografy, in which I have passed through all grads of it, from a shopkeeper up to a duke, from a knife-boy to the dignaty of a footman. Here is my fust tail: it aint about wery fashnabble society; but a man don't begin by being at once a leader of the ho tong-my fust services was in a much more humble capasity. CHAPTER I I was born in the year one, of the present or Christian hera, and am, in consquints, seven-and-thirty years old. My mamma called me Charles Edward Harrington Fitzroy Yellowplush, in compliment to several noble families, and to a sellybrated coachmin whom she knew, who wore a yellow livry, and drove the Lord Mayor of London. Why she gev me this genlmn's name is a diffiklty, or rayther the name of a part of his dress; however, it's stuck to me through life, in which I was, as it were, a footman by buth. Praps he was my father-though on this subjict I can't speak suttinly, for my ma wrapped up my buth in a mistry. I may be illygitmit, I may have been changed at nuss; but I've always had genlmnly tastes through life, and have no doubt that I come of a genlmnly origum. The less I say about my parint the better, for the dear old creature was very good to me, and, I fear, had very little other goodness in her. Why, I can't say; but I always passed as her nevyou. We led a strange life; sometimes ma was dressed in sattn and rooge, and sometimes in rags and dutt; sometimes I got kisses, and sometimes kix; sometimes gin, and sometimes shampang law bless us! how she used to swear at me, and cuddle me; there we were, quarrelling and making up, sober and tipsy, starving and guttling by turns, just as ma got money or spent it. But let me draw a vail over the seen, and speak of her no more-its 'sfishnt for the public to know, that her name was Miss Montmorency, and we lived in the New Cut. |