Ye Storye.
Mr. and Mrs. Theophilus Browne
Had a house in a newly-built suburb of town,
“Twelve good rooms and an attic.”
Mr. Browne had a share in a City bank,
But when at home “the shop” he sank,
And assuming the airs of a person of rank,
Was quite aristocratic.
Invitations to dinner he oft obtained,
Showers of cards upon him rained,
For party and picnic pleasant;
Indeed, ’twas his constant pride and boast
That his name once appeared in the “Morning Post,”
(Which he took each day with his tea and toast,)
As “amongst the company present.”
But as never was rose without a thorn,
So surely was mortal never born
To a life without vexation;
And some bachelor chums of our friend Mr. B.
Had a habit of “dropping in to tea,”
And merely saying, “We’ve made so free,”
Would create quite a consternation.
For they reeked of tobacco, that dreadful herb,
Which will ever a lady’s nerves disturb,
E’en the mildest of mild Havannah;
And when with their cabman they came to arrange,
They never appeared to have any change
To settle his fare, but in language strange
They borrowed “two bob and a tanner.”
We need not say that poor Mrs. Browne
Had a hate of these rollicking men about town,
Of which she made no mystery;
But surely her bitterness and spite
Were never wrought up to such a height
As upon the very eventful night
When we commence our history.
The servants had all retired to rest,
The worthy couple, in deshabille dressed,
Had just finished their nightly refection,
When a thundering double knock at the door,
Caused Mrs. Browne to exclaim, “Oh Lor!”
While her husband added to “what a bore”
An ungodly interjection.
Then, seizing a light, he ran down stairs,
Growling like one of the grisly bears
In the Gardens Zoological
(That lately were cured with such skill and tact,
Of an overflowing cataract,
Under chloroform, an astonishing fact,
Which a very artful dodge-I-call).
He opened the door in a furious rage,
Nor did it his passion at all assuage
To see his old friend, Jack Rasper,—
Jack Rasper, the fastest man in town,
Who never would go when he once sat down,
Who mimicked all actors of renown,
And could row with Coombes or Clasper.
His intimates called him “an out-and-out brick,
A fellow who at nothing would stick,
And a first-rate judge of malt, sir.”
Nay, the ladies themselves, who are clearly the best
To decide on such matters, had often confessed.—
“Mr. Rasper, besides being very well dressed,
Was an excellent deux-temps waltzer.”
Darting past the unhappy Browne,
At the foot of the stairs he sat himself down,
And laughed like the clown in a pantomime;
Then jumping up, he made a grimace
Might have rivalled e’en Mr. Grimaldi’s face,
To describe the which with sufficient grace
Quite baffles my Muse for want-o’-rhyme.
“Browne,” he began, “I’m come to sup.
I suppose I may. Walk up, walk up,
And observe the living lions;
The thickly-coated armadillo,
Brought from furrin’ parts beyond the billow
By Don Alphonso de Padrillo,
That ornament of science!
“But, joking apart, Browne, how’s your wife?
Not annoyed, I hope; to cause any strife
Would give me infinite sorrow.”
Then springing up stairs with a loud “Ha! ha!”
He thrust his head through the door ajar,
And greeted the lady with “Here we are,”
And “How d’ye do to-morrow.”
Mrs. Browne received him with looks so black
That he felt himself quite taken aback,
And received what he called “a staggerer.”
Indeed, as he told his friends next night,
“He soon saw that fowl would never fight,
So he instantly came the dodge polite,
And entirely dropped the swaggerer!”
Then changing his tone, “Mrs. Browne, to you
I am sure,” said he, “I ought to sue
In terms most apologetic.”
But not a whit the angry dame
Was soothed, her expression remained the same,
And Jack thought he’d best go, the way he came,
Like a well-bred dog, prophetic.
He tried again, “If you remember,
We went together, last September,
To see the Hippopotamus,
And how, in the crowd, when you dropped those loves
Of delicate tinted primrose gloves,
As I hunted about with kicks and shoves,
Do you recollect who brought ’em us?
“Lord Augustus Aype, that cheválièr preûx,
Who was evidently struck with you,
For he said, in a whisper audible,
‘Rasper, who is that splendid creature?’”
Mrs. Browne relaxed in every feature,
For she thought—alas! poor human nature!—
Each act of a Lord was laud-able.
Jack continued, “’Twas only yesterday,
At dinner, I heard his lordship say
He should ne’er forget the circumstance;
He has met you since, at a public ball,
Or at Albert Smith’s—the Egyptian Hall!
You shake your head! what! not at all?
Yes, yes! ’twas at the Kirkham’s dance!”
Here Browne come frowningly in, but smiled,
When he found his wife seemed nothing riled,
And begged his guest to be seated:
And looking at Mrs. Browne askance,
Received in return a conjugal glance,
Which showed, “sans doûte,” as they say in France,
She wished Jack civilly treated.
So he bustled about, and soon laid out
A cold chicken, some ham, a bottle of stout,
With ale of Bass’s brewing.
And when these were dispatched by the modest youth,
Placed a flask on the board, which, to tell the truth,
Had on it the name of “Sir Felix Booth,”
But which Jack pronounced “blue ruin.”
Jack plied at the spirit, and soon began
To play so well the agreeable man,
The retailer of jokes and scandal,
That good Mrs. Browne grew quite elate;
And Browne, though he muttered, “It’s rather late,”
Replenished the fire, and swept up the grate,
And trimmed the Palmer’s candle.
Thus went the talk,—“Poor Lady Flashe
Has eloped with Captain Sabretasche;
They bolted from Baden-Baden,
While Sir Anthony Flashe their flight ne’er checked,
As it on his rheumatics had no effect;
Like the Jews of old, since he’s grown ‘stiffnecked,’
His heart has begun to harden.
“But I heard last night from Lord De Vere,
From Boulogne who has just come over here,
The most wonderful adventure;
For his Lordship last season received a ‘call,’—
Not such as those folks who at Exeter Hall
About Popery wrangle, his was all
About railway scrip and debenture.
“He said, one night that, homeward walking,
There were two men before him, talking,
Whose words caught his instant attention,
For he heard one say, as he drew more near,
‘I’ll cut his throat from ear to ear
And send his soul to ⸺’ a place which here
I really don’t like to mention.
“Shocked at these words, though somewhat alarmed,
His Lordship his noble heart soon calmed,
And set his nerves firm as rockstone,
Then followed the men up a street so lone
And dark that,”—here Mrs. Browne gave a groan,
While Browne looked the picture of fright, as shown
So well by Keeley and Buckstone.
Narrowly eyeing them, Jack continued,—
“The hands of these men so iron-sinewed,
Were red as the cover of ‘Murray,’
And in these hands they carried sticks
Of the pattern and size with which Mr. Hicks
All at once, single-handed, so easily licks
Ten land-sharks at the Surrey.
“These horrible ruffians, as more near
They approached, caught sight of Lord De Vere,
And seized him, pale and shrinking,
And as him on the ground they threw
Yelled out⸺
By Jove! it’s half-past two,
I’ve kept you up till all is blue,
I’ll run away like winkin’.”
Then, while with open mouth and eyes
The pair sat speechless with surprise,
Jack vanished quick as thought is,
And as the stairs he darted down,
Called out, “My wager, Browne, I’ve won,—
’Twas that here I’d sup; and you’re fairly done
Of ham, chicken, and aquafortis!
“My boasted acquaintance with Lord De Vere,
The tale of the street so dark and drear,
Was all improvisatoré!
You would pardon a lord, though a church he should rob,
Yet hang what T. P. Cooke would call ‘a poor swab,’
And you’re nothing at best but a tuft-hunting snob,
So I’ll ‘leave you alone in your glory.’”