THE PICNIC PARTY.
BY HORACE SMITH.
To give a picnic party a fair chance of success, it must be almostimpromptu: projected at twelve o'clock at night at the earliest,executed at twelve o'clock on the following day at the latest; and eventhen the odds are fearfully against it. The climate of England is notremarkable for knowing its own mind; nor is the weather "so fixed in itsresolve" but that a bright August moon, suspended in a clear sky, may belady-usher to a morn of fog, sleet, and drizzle. Then, again,--but thisbeing tender ground, we will only hint at the possibility of such achange,--a lady of the intended party might quit the drawing-room atnight in the sweetest humor imaginable, and make her appearance atbreakfast in a less amiable mood, or, perhaps, "prefer taking breakfastin her own room,"--from which notice husbands sometimes infer that sucha change has taken place.
Mr. Claudius Bagshaw, a retired silk mercer, in the vicinity of London,determined, notwithstanding all these arguments, to have a picnic partyon the 24th of August, his wedding-day. On the 3d of July, Mr. ClaudiusBagshaw, after eating his breakfast and reading the Morning Post, lookedout of his parlor window to watch the horticultural pursuits of hisbetter part. Mr. Bagshaw had become a member of one of the"march-of-intellect-societies," and was confident that the picnic wouldturn out a very pleasant thing.
"How fortunate we shall be, dear," said Mr. Bagshaw, "how happy we shallbe, if the weather should be as fine on our wedding-day as it is now."
"True, love," replied Mrs. Bagshaw; "but this is only the 3d of July,and, as the anniversary of our happy day is the 24th of August, theweather _may_ change."
This proposition Mr. Bagshaw did not attempt to deny.
The Bagshaws were the happiest couple in the world. Being blessed withthe negative blessing of no offspring, the stream of their affectionswas not diverted into little channels, but ebbed and flowed in oneuninterrupted tide reciprocally from bosom to bosom. They neverdisputed, they never quarrelled. Yes, they did sometimes, but then itwas from a mutual over-anxiety to please. Each was afraid to pronounce achoice, or a preference, lest it might be disagreeable to the other; andhence there occasionally did arise little bickerings, and tiffings, andmiffings, which were quite as unpleasant in their effects, and sometimesas difficult to settle, as quarrels originating in less amiable causes.
"But," said Mr. Bagshaw, referring to the barometer, "the instrument forindicating the present state and probable changes of the weather stillmaintains its elevation, and I tell you what, dear, if the weathershould be _preposterous_ on the 24th of August, suppose, instead ofgoing into the north, as we did last year, we migrate into Kent orSurrey? Instead of dining at Hampstead, as we did last year, shall we goto Greenwich, or to Putney, and eat little fishes?"
"Whichever you like, love," was the lady's answer to the so-intendedquestion.
"But I put it to your choice, dear."
"Either--or neither--please yourself, love, and you are sure you willplease me."
"Pshaw! but it is for the gratification of your--or, more properlyspeaking, for your gratification. I submit to you an alternative for thepurpose of election; and you know, Jane, I repudiate indifference, evenas concerning or applying to trifles."
"You know, Claudius, we have but one wish, and that is to please eachother; so do you decide."
"But, Mrs. Bagshaw, I must promulgate a request that--having, as I have,no desire but to please you--you will--"
"How, sir! would you force me to choose, when I am so obedient as tochoose that you should have the choice entirely your own way? Thistreatment of me is monstrous!"
And here Mrs. Bagshaw did what is usual and proper for ladies to do onsuch occasions,--she burst into tears.
"Why, then, madam, to use a strong expression, I must say that--"
But a loud rap at the street-door prevented the utterance of an"expression," the force of which would doubtless have humbled Mrs.Claudius Bagshaw down to the very dust.
"Claudius," said the lady, hastily drying her eyes, "that is UncleJohn's knock. We'll go to Gre--Put--Greenwich, love."
"That's well, dear; and be assured, love, that nothing is so adverse tothe constitution of what Locke emphatically calls the human mind,philosophically considered, as to persevere in that state of indecisionwhich--that--whereof--but we will not go to either; Uncle John shallselect the locality."
Uncle John was a bachelor of fifty-five, possessing twelve thousandpounds, a strong disinclination to part with any of them, a good heart,and a bad temper.
"Good morning t' ye, good folks; as usual, I perceive, billing andcooing."
The Bagshaws had by this time got together in a corner of the garden,and were lovingly occupied in trimming the same pot of sweet peas.
"Quite the contrary, Uncle John," said Mrs. Bagshaw. "Claudius and Ihave just had one of our most desperate quarrels."
And here the happy pair giggled, and exchanged looks which were meant toimply that _their_ most desperate quarrels were mere kitten's play; andthat Uncle John did so interpret them, he made manifest by a knowingshake of his forefinger.
"The fact is, sir, Jane and I talk of commemorating the annualrecurrence of the anniversary of our wedding-day, at some place a_leetle_ farther in the country; but our minds are in a perfect vacuumconcerning the identity of the spot. Now, sir, will you reduce the placeto a mathematical certainty, and be one of the party?"
"Why--um--no; these things are expensive; we come home at night with aguinea apiece less in our pockets, and I don't see the good of that."
"I have it!" cried Bagshaw; "we'll make it a picnic; that _won't_ beexpensive."
"Then I'm with you, Bagshaw, with all my heart,--and it shall be _alfresco_."
"There or anywhere else you please, sir," gravely replied the learnedmember of the universal-knowledge-warehouse.
"Uncle John means in the open air, Claudius; that _will_ be delightful."
"Charming!" rejoined Bagshaw.
It may be inquired why Uncle John, who objected to the disbursement of aguinea for a day's pleasure, should so readily have yielded at thesuggestion of a picnic. Uncle John possessed a neat little moroccopocket-case, containing a dozen silver spoons, and silver-handled knivesand forks, and although we are told that these implements are of laterinvention than fingers, there is, nevertheless, a very general bias intheir favor, for the purpose to which they are applied. Now, Uncle Johnbeing aware of the prevalence of their employment, it was for thisreason he never objected to make one of a picnic party; for, whilstothers contributed chickens, pigeon-pies, or wines,--it being theprinciple of such parties that each member should furnish something tothe feast,--Uncle John invariably contributed the use of his knives,forks, and spoons.
The whole morning was spent in debating on who should be invited topartake of this "pleasantest thing that ever was," and examining intotheir several pretensions, and their powers of contributing to theamusements of the day; when, at length, the honor of nomination wasconferred upon the persons following, and for the reasons assigned:--
Sir Thomas and Lady Grouts--because of their title, which would give anair to the thing--(Sir Thomas, formerly a corn-chandler, having beenknighted for carrying up an address in the late reign). Miss EuphemiaGrouts, daughter No. 1--who would bring her guitar. Miss Corinna Grouts,ditto No. 2--because she would sing.
Mr. and Mrs. Snodgrass--Mr. Snodgrass being vice-president of the grandjunction march-of-intellect society. Mr. Frederick Snodgrass, their son(lately called to the chancery bar), who would bring his flute.
Messrs. Wrench and son (eminent dentists). The father to be invitedbecause he was charming company, and the son, a dead bore, because thefather would be offended if he were not. And, lastly,
Miss Snubbleston, a rich maiden lady of forty-four, for no other earthlyqualification whatever than her carriage, which (to use Bagshaw's words)would carry herself and _us three_, and also transplant a large portionof the provender to the place of rendezvous.
Bagshaw having made out a
fair copy of this list, somewhat in the shapeof a bill of parcels, this, the first step towards the "pleasantestthing that ever was," was taken with entire satisfaction.
"Why, Bagshaw," exclaimed Uncle John, who had cast up the numbers,"including our three selves, we shall be thirteen!"
The member of the institution perceived the cause of his alarm! buthaving been lectured out of _prejudices_ respecting matters of greatermoment than this, he prepared a look of ineffable contempt as his onlyreply; however, happening to think of Uncle John's twelve thousandpounds, he suppressed it, and just contented himself with,
"And what then, sir?"
"Why, _then_, sir, that is a risk I won't run; and unless we can manageto--I have it! the very man. How came we to forget him?_The--very--man!_ You know Jack Richards?"
The last four words were delivered in a tone implying the utterimpossibility of any human creature being unacquainted with JackRichards.
"Not in the least, sir. I never heard of him."
"What! never heard of Ja--The thing is impossible; everybody knows JackRichards. The very thing for us; such a wit! such a wag!--he is the lifeand soul of everything. Should he be unengaged for the 24th of August.But he is so caught up! I was invited to meet him at dinner last Sundayat Jones's, but he didn't come. Such a disappointment to us! However, Ishall meet him on Thursday at the Tims's, if he should but keep hispromise, and then--"
"But, uncle," said Mrs. Bagshaw, "hadn't you better send him aninvitation at once?"
"I'll do better still, my dear; I'll call at his lodgings, and if I findhim hanging loose, I'll bring him to dine with you to-day." Then,turning to Bagshaw, he added, "That a man like _you_ shouldn't know JackRichards, is surprising!"
As this was evidently pointed at Mr. Claudius Bagshaw in his capacity ofmember of a learned body, Bagshaw pursed up his mouth into amock-modesty smile, and slightly bowed. Off went Uncle John in quest ofJack Richards; and, that the pleasantest thing in the world might notsuffer by delay, off went Mr. Bagshaw to apprize the Snodgrasses, theGroutses, and the rest of the nominees; and, more important still, offwent the lady to the poulterer's, to inquire whether he was likely tohave any nice pigeons for a pie, about the twenty-third of next month.The dinner-hour arrived, and so did Uncle John, but with a face ofunspeakable woe.
"I feared how it would be."
"What! can't he be with us on the 24th?" inquired both the Bagshaws atthe same instant.
"He will if he can; but he won't promise. But to-day!--However, itserves us right; we were unwise to indulge a hope of his coming at soshort a notice. He has almost engaged himself to you for Sundayfortnight, though. What a creature it is!--he has given me such a painin my side!"
"Something he said that almost killed you with laughing? Repeat it,uncle, repeat it."
"Why, no, he didn't say anything particular; but he has a knack ofpoking one in the ribs, in his comical way, and sometimes he hurtsyou."
We intended to describe Jack Richards at length; Uncle John's accidentalnotice of this trait has, most probably, rendered that troubleunnecessary. Indeed, we feel that we need scarcely add to it, that hecan sing a devilish good song (and everybody knows what is meant bythat), and imitated the inimitable Mathews's imitations of the actors,not even excepting his imitation of Tate Wilkinson's imitation ofGarrick.
Except the uncertainty of Jack Richards, the result of the morning'soccupation was satisfactory. Bagshaw, still retaining his oldbusiness-like habits of activity and industry, had contrived to wait onevery person named in the list, all of whom had promised theirattendance; and Mrs. Bagshaw had received from the poulterer a positiveassurance that he would raise heaven and earth to supply her withpigeons on the 23d of the ensuing August!
Committees were forthwith summoned. First, a committee to consider ofthe whereabout. At this, after an evening of polite squabbling, whichhad nearly put an end to the project altogether, Twickenham meadowsreceived the honor of selection,--_nem. con._ as Bagshaw said. Next,lest it should happen, as it did once happen, for want of suchpreconcert, that a picnic party of ten found themselves at their placeof meeting with ten fillets of veal and ten hams, Mr. Bagshaw called acommittee of "provender." Here it was settled that the Snodgrassesshould contribute four chickens and a tongue; the Bagshaws, theirpigeon-pie; Wrench and son, a ham; Sir Thomas Grouts, a hamper of hisown _choice_ wine; Miss Snubbleston, a basket of fruit and pastry;Uncle John, his silver spoons, knives, and forks; and Jack Richards--hischarming company. And lastly came the committee for general purposes! Atthis important meeting, it was agreed that the party proceed toTwickenham by water; that to save the trouble of loading and unloading,Miss Snubbleston's carriage convey the hampers, etc., direct to theplace appointed,--the said carriage, moreover, serving to bring theladies to town, should the evening prove cold; that, for the_water-music_, the following programme be adopted: 1. On reachingVauxhall Bridge, the concert to commence with Madame Pasta's grand scenain "Medea," previous to the murder of the children, by Miss CorinnaGrouts. 2. Nicholson's grand flute concerto in five sharps, by Mr.Frederick Snodgrass. 3. Grand aria, with variations, guitar, by MissEuphemia Grouts. 4. Sweet Bird; accompaniment, flute obligato, Miss C.G. and Mr. F. S.--and 5. The Dettingen Te Deum (arranged for threevoices, by Mr. F. S.) by Miss Euphemia, Miss Corinna, and Mr. FrederickSnodgrass. The "interstices," as Mr. Bagshaw called them, to be filledup by the amusing talents of the elder Wrench and Uncle John's friend.And, lastly, that the company do assemble at Mr. Bagshaw's on themorning of the 24th of August, at ten o'clock _precisely_, in order tohave the advantage of the tide both ways.
Three days prior to the important 24th, Mr. Bagshaw went to engage theboat, but, in a squabble with the boatman, Mr. B. got a black eye. Thiswas the first mishap.
Restless and impatient though you be, depend upon it, there is not aday of the whole three hundred and sixty-five will put itself, in theslightest degree, out of the way, or appear one second before itsappointed time, for your gratification. O that people would considerthis, and await events with patience! Certainly Mr. Bagshaw did not. Thenight of the 23d to him appeared an age. His repeater was in his handevery ten minutes. He thought the morning would never dawn,--but he wasmistaken; it did; and as fine a morning as if it had been made onpurpose to favor his excursion. By six o'clock he was dressed!--by eightthe contributions from all the members had arrived, and were ranged inthe passage. There was their own pigeon-pie, carefully packed in brownpaper and straw; Sir Thomas's hamper of his own choice wine; and therest. Everything promised fairly. The young ladies and Mr. Frederick hadhad thirty rehearsals of their grand arias and concertos, and wereperfect to a demi-semiquaver; Jack Richards would _certainly_ come; andthe only drawback upon Mr. Bagshaw's personal enjoyment--but nothing inthis world is perfect--was the necessity he was under of wearing hisgreen shade, which would totally deprive him of the pleasure ofcontemplating the beauties of the Thames scenery,--a thing he had sethis heart upon. Nine! ten!
"No one here yet! Jane, my love, we shall infallibly lose the tide." Andfor the next quarter of an hour the place of the poor repeater was nosinecure.
A knock! Mr. and Mrs. Snodgrass and Mr. Frederick. Another! The wholefamily of the Groutses. Next came Mr. Charles Wrench.
"Bless us! Mr. Charles," said Bagshaw, "where is your father?"
Now, Mr. Wrench, senior, was an agreeable old dentist, always gay,generally humorous, sometimes witty; he could _sketch_ characters aswell as _draw_ teeth; and, on occasions of this kind, was invaluable.The son was a mere donkey; a silly, simpering, well-dressed younggentleman, the owner of no more than the eighth of an idea, and of avery fine set of teeth, which he constantly exhibited like a sign oradvertisement of his shop. Appended to everything he uttered were apreface and postscript, in the form of a sort of Billy-goat grin.
"He! he! he! he! Fayther regrets emezingly he caint come, being calledto attend the Duchess of Dilborough. He! he! he! he!"
As we have already said that it was in pure compliment to the fathertha
t the son was invited, and not at all for the sake of his owncompany, his presence was a grievous aggravation of the disappointment.
The next knock announced Miss Snubbleston. But where was her carriage?Why, it had been newly varnished, and they might scratch her panels withthe hampers; and then she was afraid of her springs. So here was MissSnubbleston without her carriage, for the convenience of which alone shehad been invited, considered by the rest in exactly the same light asyoung Mr. Wrench without old Mr. Wrench,--_id est_, a damper. A newarrangement was the necessary consequence; and the baskets, under thesuperintendence of a servant, were jolted down in a hackney-coach, to beembarked at Westminster. But Miss Snubbleston brought with her asubstitute, which was by no means a compensation. Cupid, her wretched,little, barking, yelping, Dutch pug, had eaten something that haddisagreed with him, and his fair mistress would not "for worlds" haveleft him at home while he was so indisposed. Well, no one chose to bethe first to object to the intruder, so Cupid was received.
"But where can Uncle John and his friend be? We shall lose the tide,that's certain," was scarcely uttered by Mr. Bagshaw, when in came ouruncle, together with the long-expected Jack Richards.
The usual introductions over, Mr. Richards saluted everybody with theself-sufficient swagger of a vulgar lion.
"The day smiles auspicious, sir," said Bagshaw, who thought it requisitehe should throw off something fine to so celebrated a person.
"Smile?--a broad grin, I call it, sir." And here was a general laugh.
"O, excellent!"
"Capital!"
Uncle John, proud of his friend, whispered in Bagshaw's ear, "You see,Jack's beginning." And now hats and gloves were in motion.
"You have got your flute, Frederick?"
"Yes, mother," was the reply.
"Lau, ma," cried Miss Corinna, "if I haven't come without 'Sweet Bird,'and my scena from 'Medea,' I declare."
As these were indispensable to the amusements of the day, a servant wasdespatched for them. He couldn't be gone longer than half an hour. Halfan hour! thought Bagshaw; 'tis eleven now; and the tide.--But theservant was absent a few minutes beyond the half-hour, and poor Bagshawsuffered severely from that gnawing impatience, amounting almost topain, which every mother's son of us has experienced upon occasions ofgreater--or less importance than this. They were again at the very pointof starting, when a message was brought to Mrs. Snodgrass that littleMaster Charles had cut his thumb dreadfully! What was to be done? Mrs.Snodgrass vowed she shouldn't be easy in her mind the whole day unlessshe knew the extent of the mischief; and as they _only_ lived in EustonSquare, and she could be there and back again in twenty minutes, shewould herself go see what really was the matter,--and away she went.Twenty minutes! During all this time, Bagshaw--but who would attempt todescribe anguish indescribable? At length he was relieved by the returnof Mrs. Snodgrass; but, to the horror and consternation of himself andof all present, she introduced the aforesaid Master Charles,--an ugly,ill-tempered, blubbering little brat of seven years old, with a bloatedred face, scrubby white hair, and red eyes; and with the interestingappendage of a thick slice of bread and butter in his hand.
"I'm sure you'll pardon this liberty," said the affectionate mamma; "butpoor Charley has cut himself very much, and he would not be pacifiedtill I consented to take him with us. He has promised to be very good.There, don't cry any more, darling!" and, accordingly, the urchin roaredwith tenfold vigor. There were no particular manifestations of joy atthis arrival; and it is just possible, although nothing was uttered tothat effect, that there did exist a general and cordial wish that youngMaster Snodgrass were sprawling at the bottom of the deepest well inEngland. Uncle John, indeed, did utter something about the pug and thechild--two such nuisances--people bringing their brats into grownupcompany.
At length the procession set out: the Bagshaws, Uncle John, and JackRichards bringing up the rear in a hackney-coach. On reaching the cornerof the street, Mrs. Bagshaw called out to the driver to stop.
"What is the matter, dear?" said Bagshaw.
"Your eye-lotion, love."
"Well, never mind that, sweet."
"Claudius, I shall be miserable if you go without it. Dr. Nooth desiredyou would use it every two hours. I must insist,--now, for my sake,love,--such an eye as he has got, Mr. Richards!"
So away went Bagshaw to the Lake of Lausanne Lodge for the lotion,which, as it always happens when folks are in a hurry, it took him aquarter of an hour to find.
They were now fairly on the road.
"What a smell of garlic!" exclaimed Uncle John; "it is intolerable!"
"Dear me!" said Mr. Richards, "do you perceive it? 'Tis a fine Italiansausage I bought at Morel's, as my contribution. We shall find it anexcellent relish in the country." And he exhibited his purchase,enveloped in a brown paper.
"Pha! shocking!--'tis a perfect nuisance! Put it into your pocket again,or throw it out at the window." But Mr. Richards preferred obeying thefirst command.
Apropos of contributions--"Uncle, have you brought your spoons?"
"Here they are," replied Uncle, at the same time drawing from his pocketa parcel in size and form very closely resembling Mr. Richards'soffensive contribution.
On arriving at Westminster Bridge, they found the rest of the partyalready seated in the barge, and the first sound that saluted their earswas an intimation that, owing to their being two hours behind time (itwas now past twelve), they should hardly save the tide.
"I knew it would be so," said Bagshaw, with more of discontent than hehad thought to experience, considering the pains he had taken thateverything should be well ordered.
As Uncle John was stepping into the boat, Richards, with greatdexterity, exchanged parcels with him, putting the Italian sausage intoUncle John's pocket and the spoons into his own; enhancing the wit ofthe manoeuvre by whispering to the Bagshaws, who, with infinitedelight, had observed it.
"Hang me," said Richards, "but he shall have enough of the garlic!"
The old gentleman was quite unconscious of the operation, as Richardsadroitly diverted his attention from it by giving him one of hisfacetious pokes in the ribs, which nearly bent him double, and drew aroar of laughter from every one else.
Just as they were pushing off, their attention was attracted by a loudhowling. It proceeded from a large Newfoundland dog which was standingat the water's edge.
"Confound it!" cried Richards, "that's my Carlo! He has followed me,unperceived, all the way from home--I would not lose him for fiftypounds. I must take him back--pray put me ashore. This is veryprovoking--though he is _a very quiet dog_!"
There was no mistaking this hint. Already were there two nuisances onboard,--Master Charles and the Dutch pug: but as they were to choosebetween Jack Richards with his dog, or no Jack Richards (or in otherwords, no life and soul of the party), it was presently decided thatCarlo should be invited to a seat on the hampers, which were stowed atthe head of the boat,--Uncle John having first extracted from Mr.Richards an assurance that their new guest would lie there as still as amouse. This complaisance was amply rewarded by a speedy display of Mr.Richards's powers of entertainment. As soon as they reached the middleof the river Jack Richards suddenly jumped up, for the purpose offrightening Miss Snubbleston; a jest at which everybody else would havelaughed, had not their own lives been endangered by it. Even his greatadmirer suggested to him that once of that was enough. His next joke wasone of a more intellectual character. Though he had never till this dayseen Sir Thomas, he had accidentally heard something about his formertrade.
"What is the difference between Lord Eldon and Sir Thomas Grouts?"Nobody could tell.
"One is an ex-chancellor,--the other is an ex-chandler." Everybodylaughed, except the Grouts family.
This was succeeded by another thrust in Uncle John's side; after whichcame a pun, which we shall not record, as the effect of it was to forcethe ladies to cough and look into the water, the gentlemen to look ateach other, and Mrs. Snodgrass to whisper to Mrs. Ba
gshaw,--
"Who _is_ this Mr. Richards?"
Indeed, there would have been no end to his pleasantries had they notbeen interrupted by a request that Miss Corinna would open the concert,as they were fast approaching Vauxhall Bridge. Mr. Bagshaw (looking atthe programme, which he had drawn out on paper ruled with red and bluelines) objected to this, as it would disturb the previous arrangement,according to which the concert was not to commence till they were_through_ the bridge. This objection was overruled, and the fair Corinnaunrolled the music, for which the servant had been despatched with somuch haste. Miss Corinna screamed. What was the matter?
"They had not sent the grand scena from Medea, after all, but a wrongpiece!" And the pains she had taken to be perfect in it!
"Could not Miss Corinna sing it from memory?"
"Impossible!"
"How careless of you, Corinna! then sing what they have sent."
"Why, ma," said Corinna, with tears in her eyes, and holding up theunfortunate sheets,--"why, bless me, ma, I can't sing the overture toDer Freyschutz!"
The difficulty of such a performance being readily admitted, Mr.Frederick Snodgrass declared himself but too happy to comply with thecalls for his concerto in five sharps, which stood next on the list; andwith the air of one well satisfied that an abundance of admiration andapplause would reward his efforts, he drew forth his flute, when, lo!one of the joints was missing! This accident was nearly fatal to themusical entertainments of the day; for not only was the concerto therebyrendered impracticable, but "Sweet Bird" with the flute-accompanimentobligato, was put _hors de combat_. Disappointment having, by this, beencarried to its uttermost bounds, the announcement that two strings ofthe guitar had gone was received with an indifference almost stoical;and every one was grateful to Miss Euphemia for so _willingly_undertaking (the whispered menaces of Lady Grouts being heard by nobodybut the young lady herself) to do all that could be done under suchuntoward circumstances. She would endeavor to accompany herself througha little ballad; but she failed.
Mr. Claudius Bagshaw, with all his literature, science, and philosophy,now, for the first time, wondered how anything could fail, so muchtrouble having been taken to insure success. Drawing forth his repeater,he ahem'd, and just muttered,--
"Unaccountable! Hem! upon my word! One o'clock, and no pleasure yet!"
"One o'clock!" echoed his spouse; "then 'tis time for your eye, dear!"And Bagshaw was compelled not only to suffer his damaged optics to bedabbled by his tormentingly affectionate wife, but to submit again tobe hoodwinked, in spite of his entreaties to the contrary, and hispathetic assurances that he had not yet seen a bit of the prospect; athing he had set his heart upon.
Now occurred a dead silence of some minutes. A steamboat rushed by.Bagshaw seized this opportunity to make a display of his scientificacquirements; and this he did with the greater avidity, as he had longwished to astonish Vice-President Snodgrass. Besides, in the event ofhis offering to deliver a course of lectures at the institution, thevice-president might bear evidence to his capabilities for thepurpose,--his acquaintance not only with the facts, but with the termsof science. Whether those terms were always correctly applied, weconfess ourselves not sufficiently learned to pronounce.
"How wondrous is the science of mechanism! how variegated its progeny,how simple, yet how compound! I am propelled to the consideration ofthis subject by having optically perceived that ingenious nauticalinstrument, which has just now flown along like a mammoth, that monsterof the deep! You ask me how are steamboats propagated? in other words,how is such an infinite and immovable body inveigled along its course? Iwill explain it to you. It is by the power of friction: that is to say,the two wheels, or paddles, turning diametrically, or at the samemoment, on the axioms, and repressing by the rotundity of their motionthe action of the menstruum in which the machine floats,--water being,in a philosophical sense, a powerful non-conductor,--it is clear, thatin proportion as is the revulsion so is the progression; and as is thecentrifugal force, so is the--"
"Pooh!" cried Uncle John, impatiently; "let us have some music."
"I have an apprehension, Bagshaw," said the vice-president,--"that Ishould not presume to dispute with you,--that you are wrong in yourtheory of the centrifugal force of the axioms. However, we will discussthat point at the grand-junction. But come, Frederick, the 'Dettingen TeDeum.'"
Frederick and the young ladies having, by many rehearsals, perfectedthemselves in the performance of this piece, instantly complied.Scarcely had they reached the fourth bar, when Jack Richards, who hadnot for a long time perpetrated a joke, produced a harsh, brassy-toned,German eolina, and "blew a blast so loud and shrill," that the Dutch pugbegan to bark, Carlo to howl, and the other nuisance, Master Charles, tocry. The German eolina was of itself bad enough, but these congregatednoises were intolerable. Uncle John aimed a desperate blow with a largeapple, which he was just about to bite, at the head of Carlo, who, inorder to give his lungs fair play, was standing on all fours on thehampers. The apple missed the dog, and went some distance beyond himinto the water. Mr. Carlo, attributing to Uncle John a kinder feelingthan that which actually prompted the proceeding, looked upon it as agood-natured expedient to afford him an opportunity of adding his miteto the amusements of the day, by displaying a specimen of his training.Without waiting for a second hit, he plunged into the river, seized theapple, and, paddling up the side of the boat with the prizetriumphantly exhibited in his jaws, to the consternation of the wholeparty, he scrambled in between Uncle John and his master, dropped theapple upon the floor, distributed a copious supply of Thames wateramongst the affrighted beholders, squeezed his way through them as besthe could, and, with an air of infinite self-satisfaction, resumed hisplace on the hampers.
Had Mr. Jack Richards, the owner of the dog, been at the bottom of theThames a week before this delightful 24th, not one of the party, Mr.Richards himself excepted, would have felt in the slightest degreeconcerned; but since, with a common regard to politeness, they could notexplicitly tell him so, they contented themselves with bestowing uponMr. Carlo every term of opprobrium, every form of execration, which goodmanners will allow,--leaving it to the sagacity of "the life and soul ofthe company" to apply them to himself, if so it might be agreeable tohim. Poor fellow! he felt the awkwardness of his situation, andfiguratively, as well as literally speaking, this exploit of his dogthrew a _damp_ upon him, as it had done upon every one else.
For some time the picnickers pursued their way in solemn silence. Atlength Bagshaw, perceiving that there would be very little pleasure ifmatters were allowed to go on in this way, exclaimed,--
"An intelligent observer, not imbued with the knowledge of ourintentions, would indicate us to be a combination of perturbed spirits,rowed by Charon across the river Tiber."
In cases of this kind, the essential is to break the ice. Conversationwas now resumed.
"Ah! ha!" said the vice-president, "Sion-house."
"The residuum of the Northumberlands," said Claudius, "one of the mostgenealogical and antique families in England."
And here, having put forth so much classical and historical lore, almostin a breath, he marked his own satisfaction by a short, single cough.The vice-president _said_ nothing, but he thought to himself, "There ismuch more in this Bagshaw than I suspected."
Jack Richards was up again.
"Come, what's done can't be helped; but, upon my soul! I am sorry atbeing the innocent cause of throwing cold water on the party."
"Cold water, indeed! look at me, sir," said Miss Snubbleston, with tearsin her eyes, and exhibiting her _ci-devant_ shoulder-of-mutton sleeves,which, but half an hour before as stiff and stately as starch could makethem, were now hanging loose and flabby about her skinny arms.
"Too bad, Jack," said Uncle John, "to bring that cursed Carlo of yours!"
Carlo, perceiving that he was the subject of conversation, was instantlyon his legs, his eye steadily fixed upon Uncle John, evidently expectinga signal for a second plunge. Th
e alarm was general, and every tonguejoined in the scream of "Lie down, sir! lie down!"
Uncle John, who had been more than once offended by the odor from hisfriend's garlic sausage, and who had on each and every such occasionvented an exclamation of disgust, to the great amusement of Mr. Richards(who chuckled with delight to think of the exchange he had secretlyeffected) here, in the very middle of the stream, resolved to ridhimself of the annoyance. Unperceived by any one, he gently drew theparcel from Richards's coat-pocket, and let it drop into the water! LikeKing Richard's pierced coffin, once in, it soon found the way to thebottom. Uncle John could scarcely restrain his inclination to laughaloud; however, he contrived to assume an air of indifference, andwhistled part of a tune.
Arrived at Twickenham, the boatmen were ordered to pull up to abeautiful meadow, sloping down to the water's edge. There was no time tolose,--they had had no pleasure yet,--so Bagshaw entreated that everyone "would put his shoulder to the wheel, and be on the _qui rala_." Inan instant a large heavy hamper was landed, but as, in compliance withBagshaw's request, every one did something to _help_, a scene ofconfusion was the consequence, and numerous pieces of crockery wereinvalided ere the cloth was properly spread, and the dishes, plates, andglasses distributed. But for the feast. Mr. Snodgrass's basket wasopened, and out of it were taken four remarkably fine chickens, and atongue--uncooked! There was but one mode of accounting for this triflingomission. Mr. Snodgrass's Betty was a downright matter-of-fact person,who obeyed orders to the very letter. Having been told, the eveningbefore, to get four fine chickens for roasting, together with a tongue,and to pack them, next morning, in a basket, she did so literally andstrictly; but, as she had received no distinct orders to dress them, tohave done so she would have deemed an impertinent departure from herinstructions. Well; since people in a high state of civilization, likeMr. Claudius Bagshaw and his friends, cannot eat raw chickens, they didthe only thing they could under the circumstances,--they grumbledexceedingly, and put them back again into the basket. This was a seriousdeduction in the important point of quantity, and Uncle John felt aslight touch of remorse at having thrown, as he thought, his friend'sItalian sausage into the Thames. However, there was still provision inthe garrison. But the run of luck in events, as at a game of whist, maybe against you; and when it is so, be assured that human prudence andforesight--remarkable as even Mrs. Bagshaw's, who bespoke her pigeonsseven weeks before she wanted them--avail but little. When the packageswere first stowed in the boat, the pigeon-pie was inadvertently placedat the bottom, and everything else, finishing with the large heavyhamper of crockery, with Carlo on that, upon it; so that when it wastaken up it appeared a chaotic mass of pie-crust, broken china, pigeons,brown paper, beefsteak, eggs, and straw!
"Now this is enough to provoke a saint!" said Bagshaw; and no oneattempting to deny the position, with this salvo for his own characterof philosophic patience, he indulged himself in the full expression ofhis vexation and sorrow. After a minute examination, he declared the pieto be "a complete squash," and that nobody could venture to eat it butat the imminent risk of being choked. As he was about to throw it overthe hedge, Miss Snubbleston, seized with an unusual fit of generosity,called out to him,--
"What _are_ you doing? Though it isn't fit for us to eat, it will bequite a treat to the poor watermen. I dare say, poor souls, they don'toften get pigeon-pie."
But the good genius of Mr. Carlo prevailed; and the truth of the adage,"'tis an ill wind that blows nobody good," was confirmed in his mind ashe found himself busily employed in the ingenious operation ofseparating pigeon from porcelain. It was, doubtless, extremely ill-bredin one dog not to invite another, and Cupid expressed his sense of theslight by a long-continued yell, which drew down upon him, from theequally disappointed bipeds of the company, sundry wishes, the positiveaccomplishment of which would not have tended much to his personalhappiness. The next basket was opened. Things were not altogether in adesperate state. Mr. Wrench's ham was in perfect order, and that, withMiss Snubbleston's salad, and some bread, and--could it be possible!After so much preparation, and Mr. Bagshaw's committee of "provender" toboot, that no one should have thought of so obvious a requisite asbread! There would not be time to send Mr. Bagshaw to Twickenham town toprocure some, for it was getting late, and if they lost the tide, theyshould be on the water till midnight, and they did not like theappearance of the sky, which was by no means so blue as it had hithertobeen. However, the want of bread did not _much_ signify; they could makea shift with Miss Snubbleston's biscuits and poundcakes. But Uncle Johndid not come out on an excursion of pleasure to make shift; no more didBagshaw; no more did any of the others. There was nothing else to bedone; so where is Miss Snubbleston's basket? And where is MasterCharles? gracious! Don't be alarmed, the precious rarity is in nodanger. He was soon discovered behind a tree, whither he had dragged thefruit and cakes, and was engaged with all his might and main, in anendeavor, with a piece of stick, to force out an apple. In this attempt,as it was presently seen, the interesting child had cracked a bottle,the contents of which--merely a preparation of oil, vinegar, and mustardfor the salad--were quietly dribbling through the poundcakes, biscuits,and fruit. Similar aspirations to those which had lately been socordially expressed for the Dutch pug were now most devoutly formed inbehalf of Master Charles.
"This comes of bringing their plaguy brats with them," said Uncle andBagshaw.
Whilst this scene was going on, Jack Richards, perceiving that theservice of the table was incomplete, bethought him of Uncle John'ssilver-handled knives and forks and spoons; he felt first in one pocket,and then in the other, then he ran down to search the boat, then herummaged the baskets.
"Jack, my boy," hallooed Uncle John, "don't trouble yourself, you'llnever see _that_ again."
"What, sir?"
"I could not bear the smell of it any longer, so I slyly drew it out ofyour pocket, and dexterously let it fall into the deepest part of theThames."
And here Uncle John chuckled, and looked about him for applause.
"Bless me, sir! Don't say so--why--bless my heart--you don'tknow--before we got into the boat, I put the sausage into your pocket,and your case of cutlery into my own!"
There was a general burst of laughter against Uncle John. He turned aspale as--nay, paler than anything that has ever yet been dragged intothe comparison; for an instant he stood stock-still, then thrust hishand into his pocket, drew forth the unfortunate substitute, and at thesame time exclaiming D----tion! dashed it violently to the ground. Henext buttoned his coat from the bottom to the top, pulled down hiscuffs, whispered to his no longer admired Jack Richards, "You shall hearfrom me, Mr.----," and saying aloud to Bagshaw, "This comes of yourconfounded party of pleasure, sir," away he went, and returned to townoutside a Twickenham coach; resolving by the way to call out _that_ Mr.Richards, and to eject the Bagshaws from the snug corner they held inhis last will and testament.
This explosion seemed to have banished pleasure for that day. They wereall, more or less, out of humor; and instead of making the best ofthings, as they had hitherto done, they now made the worst of them. SirThomas's hamper of _his choice wine_ (which, by the by, he purchased ata cheap shop for the occasion) was opened; and slices of ham were cutwith the only knife and fork. Jack Richards tried to be facetious, butit would not do. He gave Bagshaw a poke in the ribs, which was receivedwith a very formal, "Sir, I must beg--" To Mr. Wrench, junior, hesaid,--
"You have not spoken much to-day--but you have made amends for yoursilence--d' ye take?--Your _ham_ is good, though your _tongue_ is notworth much!"
Instead of laughing, Mr. Wrench simpered something about impertinentliberties and satisfaction. On being invited by Sir Thomas to a secondglass of his old East India, he said that one was a dose--had rather notdouble the _Cape_; and at the first glass of champagne, he inquiredwhether there had been a plentiful supply of gooseberries that year. Inshort, whether it were that the company knew not how to appreciate hisstyle of wit and pleasantry, or tha
t he was in reality a verydisagreeable person, the fact is that--but hold! let us say nothing illof him; he died last week, at Folkestone, of a surfeit of goose, in theforty-ninth year of his age. For the consolation of such as were amusedby him, and regret his loss, be it remembered that there are still to befound many Jack Richards in this world.
As we have said, they now resolved to make the worst of everything; thegrass was damp, the gnats were troublesome, Carlo's nose was ineverybody's face, Cupid's teeth at everybody's calves, and MasterCharles was ill of the many sour apples; it was growing late, and nogood could come of sitting longer in the open air. They re-embarked. Bythe time they reached Putney it was pitch dark, and the tide was settingagainst them. They moved on in mute impatience, for there was a slightsprinkling of rain. It now fell in torrents. Master Charles grewfrightened and screamed. Cupid yelped, and Carlo howled. Accompanied therest of the way by these pleasing sounds, at one in the morning (twohours and a half later than they intended) they arrived at Westminsterstairs, dull, dreary, drowsy, discontented, and drenched.