Imagens das páginas
PDF
ePub

bottle was placed upon the table. "Fine crusted port, sir," continued
the man ;
"master has only two dozen left. You take porter and ale
with your dinner?" We replied in the affirmative. The cloth was re-
moved, when the persevering attendant placed upon the table
some oranges, whose colour canary fanciers would have pro-
nounced as a happy mixture between the jonk and the mealy.
"Thought you'd like some dessert, gentlemen," continued the loqua-
cious man.
"Please to have a broiled bone or a scalloped oyster after
the play?" Before we had time to answer, the touting waiter answered
an imaginary call from the bar with "Coming, sir," and abruptly left

us.

Anxious not to exceed our means, and yet to enjoy that delight of all delights, a supper after the play, we rang the bell, and requested, as we were to leave early in the morning, that our bill for dinner and beds should forthwith be made out. This was shortly afterwards attended to, and we found, upon adding the amount of our coach fares, admission to the theatre, and fees to the boots, chambermaid, and waiter, that we should only have five shillings left, out of which our breakfast was to be paid. We then ordered a coach, counterordered the supper, and drove to the play. Stolen fruits are sweet, it is said; and certainly it proved so upon this occasion, for we enjoyed the performances more than I can describe ; we strolled about the lobbies and passages, gave ourselves great airs, glanced at the fair occupants of our public box, and looked as contemptible in the eyes of the world as we fancied we appeared great in our own. The play over, we returned to the hotel, where we found a gentleman occupying a conspicuous place before the fire; our table had been laid for supper by the speculating waiter, who, sharing the profits of the concern with the proprietor, was most anxious to run up the bill. As we entered the room the stranger made way for us, and, upon looking more stedfastly at him, we recognized him as the occupier of one of the front seats in the box, and who had watched our proceedings throughout the evening. "I hope you liked the performance," asked our new acquaintance. Delighted with it," we responded. And as the conversation proceeded we unburthened our feel ings, talked of our doings at Westminster, of Mother Pack's, and our larks, and finally entrusted the attentive listener with the fact that we were truants from Dean's Yard.

[ocr errors]

"What say you to a glass of brandy-and-water," said I to Kirkonnel; "perhaps this gentleman will join us."

Kirkonnel remembering the state of our finances, looked confused. At length he called me aside, and said he would speak to the waiter. The conversation was evidently successful, for the latter personage having asked whether Kirkonnel preferred hot or cold, shortly appeared with a tray containing "three brandies" as he termed it, sugar, hot water, bread and cheese. We pressed our new acquaintance to partake of our humble fare, to which he graciously assented. After an hour's agreeable conversation, we retired; and as the stranger took his leave, he expressed a hope that we might some day meet again, a sentiment to which we cordially responded.

"I made a bargain with the waiter," said Kirkonnel, as we entered our double-bedded room, to furnish us our supper for four and sixpence, three shillings for the brandy, and eighteen-pence for the bread and cheese."

a

"All right," I replied, "though I fear we have only sixpence left for our breakfasts."

I pass over my "rosy dreams and slumbers light," during which the fair forms of many a beauty that I had seen both on and off the stage at Covent Garden flitted before me, and bring myself to those sad realities of life which I experienced on awaking. What could exceed the discomfort of finding myself in a cold cheerless room, looking to the river, from which arose a dense dark-coloured fog, the pavement and streets covered with snow; nor did the fear of being discovered, added to the knowledge that we were reduced to our last sixpence, tend much to our comfort or gratification.

"Please to take breakfast, gentlemen," said the slipshod, untidy waiter, as we entered the coffee-room, still redolent with the odour of brandy, cheese, oil lamps, and rancid butter. We declined this offer, pleading haste; and, having paid our bill and satisfied the demands of the household sharks, waiter, chambermaid, and boots, the latter of whom had promised to take care of our carpet bags, we found ourselves on Westminster-bridge with frozen hands and feet, empty stomachs, and almost empty purses. How to procure any inward creature comfort in the shape of "hot with" was a question not easily to be decided, although, as my light-hearted friend Kirkonnel remarked, we were likely to find ourselves with plenty of "cold without." After crossing the bridge, we looked in vain for some tea and coffee room, where we might break our fast for the small sum of threepence per head; but the charges, small as they were, exceeded our limited means-a cup of coffee being three-halfpence, and rolls and butter two-pence each. Every minute increased our hunger, and it was not until we nearly arrived at the famishing point, that necessity, which has always been looked upon as the mother of invention, came to our rescue. Just opposite the Marsh-gate, which was then in existence, a man stood with a huge tin portable cooking apparatus, upon which appeared some good-looking specimens of roasted potatoes.

4

"All hot, all hot!" exclaimed the purveyor; "two a penny, real hot 'tatys.

[ocr errors]

A baker's and butterman's shops were close at hand; investing threepence of our capital upon a small loaf and a pat of butter, we still found ourselves in possession of half our funds, two-pence of which we expended upon a pint of porter, and with the remaining penny purchased two as fine mealy potatoes as ever graced a board. With these, and appetite for our sauce, we made a most excellent repast. The time passed drearily enough until four o'clock, at which hour we were to meet Alderson at a French tavern and restaurateur's at the corner of Nassau-street, Soho. Here we found our host and his hoaxing friend in waiting, both of whom welcomed us most kindly. The former exclaimed

"Let's to dinner ;" and turning to the waiter, continued, in a most theatrical tone, "Prepare our dinner.

[ocr errors]

"Oui, monsieur," responded the garçon, shrugging up his shoulders, and looking awfully struck at the pompous style of his customer.

In the days I write of, French coffee-houses and Frenchmen were much scarcer than they are at the present time, and Les quatres Nations where we were assembled was the only one of note as a dining house in

the metropolis. After the soup and fish had been removed, Frank Alderson, still quoting his favourite bard, desired the waiter to bring him "toe of frog," like Poor Tom: "we'll eat the swimming frog." Dubret, so the garçon was called, again shrugged up his shoulders, exclaiming

"Toe of frogge! What means that?"

"La fricassée des green owls-frogs," responded the stage-struck hero. "Now, fie upon my false French."

66

Oh, les grenouilles! Ah, je comprends ! Ve have vot you call ver fine frogs à la maître d'hotel.”

Monsieur Dubret retired, and in a few minutes returned with a nicelooking entrée.

"The Frenchman hath good skill," said Alderson, as he portioned me out a small quantity of what he supposed to be this far-famed continental luxury, and which tasted to me very much like the stringy portions of the legs and wings of a chicken. Nor was I wrong in my conclusion, for before we left the coffee-room we ascertained that the fricassée frogs was nothing more than a rechauffée of a blanquette de volaille cut into small slices, and immersed in a thick white sauce. Billy Sanders seemed very much disposed to put his hoaxing propensities into force; but as the room was solely occupied with French emigrées, whose politeness won our hearts, he forbore his jests, reserving them for some future occasion. The bill was now settled, the garçon fee'd in so liberal a manner that it evidently quite surprised him, he being accustomed only to receive the odd half-pence; and Alderson had shouted to the porter, "Come, my coach," when I overheard a conversation between the two friends, which showed me that some tremendous practical jest was to be perpetrated during the college perform

ance.

"Proceed we straight to Westminster," said Alderson, as we entered the crazy vehicle.

"Ay, and as your favourite bard writes," continued Sanders

[blocks in formation]

With the awe that I then felt for the authorities in Dean's Yard, and the knowledge that any disturbance that might emanate from my friends would inevitably entail upon me both a good flogging from Dr. Cary and a severe "licking" from the collegers, I urged the hoaxer with all the eloquence I was master of not to attempt any jest within the college walls; to this he after some persuasion assented to, and we reached the dormitory just in time to hear the orchestrá behind the scenes play the national anthem. Shortly afterwards the head master, accompanied by a host of old Westminsters, entered, and took their seats amidst the cheers of the boys, the band playing, "See, the Conquering Hero comes.' The prologue was then delivered with appropriate emphasis by the captain; the play then proceeded, and the epilogue, a well-written satire upon the reigning folly of the day, concluded the performance.

[ocr errors]

Billy Sanders and his friend Alderson can scarcely be said to have broken down in their promises, although the former could not refrain from placing a five-pound note, drawn upon the bank of elegance, into the cap that was handed round after the performance for the benefit of

the captain of the king's scholars, nor could the latter help exclaiming in a loud tone, when the Bishop of addressed Page, the undermaster, in a quotation from Horace, "Good my lord, no Latin." After the play, we returned to our dames, where the usual "roll" was called over, during which we could not help fancying that Dr. Dodd gave both Kirkonnel and myself a look that portended much mischief. Nothing, however, was said that night; and upon going into school the following morning, we began to hope that our fears had been groundless, when the sad reality came before us, by our tutor beckoning us both to his chair.

"You had leave to go to your uncle's last Wednesday," said the kindhearted Jemmy.

We began to stutter and stammer, and finally to admit the trickery and deception we had been guilty of.

:

[ocr errors]

"Well, my boys, I am glad you have spoken the truth I despise a liar. All your proceedings have been reported to Dr. Cary and myself. At this moment a sixth-form boy came to say that the head master wished to speak to Dr. Dodd, who immediately obeyed the summons. During the consultation of the two learned dominies, we watched their countenances; a six-cutter or expulsion seemed written legibly in their faces. In a few moments our suspense was over, by our being called up to Cary. After expatiating upon the enormity of our delinquencies, he told us that nothing but the character our tutor had given us for veracity could have saved us from expulsion, and that under those circumstances, and those alone, our punishment would be commuted to an impos, that of writing out during the holidays the English part of the Latin grammar. Delighted at the noble part that our worthy friend Jemmy had acted towards us, we made a resolution never again to offend him, and happy am I to say that both Kirkonnel and myself implicitly acted up to this determination. The holidays came, and many a time when our parents thought us fast asleep we rose from our beds, and, trimming the midnight lamp, laboured at our task; by this means we accomplished it before our return to Westminster, and were highly complimented by Cary at the attention we had paid to it. Instead of an ill-written, scrawly, unintelligible impos, we presented as fair a specimen of caligraphy as ever was penned. We were now most anxious to ascertain how our delinquencies before Christmas had been discovered, and with some difficulty ascertained that our friend and acquaintance at the hotel had reported to Dr. Cary that two Westminster boys had been playing the parts of truants, and that upon public principle he had felt it to be his duty to inform him of the fact. Truly might we have asked him where his principle was, when, after partaking of our scanty fare, he, under the mask of kindly feeling, entrapped two unsuspecting youths to criminate themselves, and then turned informer against them. Who our false friend was we never from that hour to the present have been able to discover. For days and weeks we hovered about Bridgestreet in the hopes of meeting him; had we fallen in with him, a ducking under the first pump or in the river would have been the result. It was during this "half" period that I first became acquainted with one of the most sporting men of his day-Barclay, of Ure; he was an intimate friend of my uncle, Sir Charles to whom I have before alluded; and as I usually passed the Saturday and Sunday with the

latter, I was fortunate enough to meet the celebrated pedestrian constantly, at dinner. Independent of his prowess in walking, Barclay was an excellent amateur sparrer, and one wet Saturday, when Kirkonnel and myself were practising with the gloves, the Captain happened to make his appearance. "Bravo, youngsters," said the delighted visitor. "I never saw two better attitudes; no stiffness, knees elastic, body a little bent, head and shoulders forward, hands well up-capitally stopped, and returned-a good judge of distance. Never fight at the body. Well hit. There, my boys, that will do," continued Barclay, as the last commended blow drew a considerable quantity of "claret" from my nasal organ. "I have not hurt you I hope," said my Westminster "chum," holding out his hand. "Not at all," I replied; although for the moment my feelings belied my tongue, for a righthander in the nose is no joke when put in by an athletic youth. "You are both brave fellows," said Barclay, slipping into our hands a couple of guineas; "and I hope, some Saturday when your uncle dines out, that you will take a chop with me at the Piazza, and we can drop into Tom Cribb's for an hour, afterwards." We thanked the gallant Captain, who now took his leave.

He

It may here not be uninteresting to our readers to give a slight sketch of this celebrated character. Robert Barclay Allardice, Esq., of Ure, was born in Scotland, and at eight years of age was sent to England for his education; he was four years at Richmond, and three at Brixton-causeway School. He afterwards went to Cambridge. entered the service of his country as an ensign in the 23rd Fusiliers, and accompanied his regiment to the continent in 1805, his corps forming part of the army which was sent for the protection of Hanover. He was afterwards promoted to a company, but saw no actual service until the fatal expedition to Walcheren, where he acted as aide-de-camp to the late Duke of Gordon, then Marquis of Huntley. He embarked for that pestiferous climate a few days after he had finished his pedestrian performance at Newmarket; and, although greatly reduced by his exertions, escaped the dreadful fever. Barclay, whose weight was twelve stone thirteen pounds, and whose height was five feet ten inches, was a most formidable amateur with the gloves; he, however, occasionally selected too powerful an antagonist, as was the case with Shaw, the Lifeguardsman. When this redoubtable hero first made his appearance at the Five's Court, in Little St. Martin's-lane, nothing would satisfy the undaunted spirit of the Captain but having a bout with the new recruit. Shaw was, to use his own description, "a main good un" at planting body blows. We have slightly varied his expression, as the original language would not sound very well to ears polite. In weight the gallant soldier was fifteen stone, and in height six feet and half an inch. This gave him a decided advantage in his set-to with Barclay. The brave Scot, however, never shrunk from punishment, and for some time held his own; but finally the length and weight of Shaw enabled him to plant so tremendous a blow in the Captain's ribs that many were broken. As a practical farmer Barclay is second to no one, and, through his excellent management, has brought his estate to the highest point of perfection. At an early period of his life he was a master of a pack of foxhounds in Kincardineshire, and distinguished himself as much in the "faint image of war"—

D

« AnteriorContinuar »