How we besiege him in the morning! "Luncheon, ADOLF, for a party of seven, in a basket—a nice basket, you know—and don't forget the corkscrew." "Yes, yes, I know—and you take the bottle-bier—it is much better nor the warne. Ha! Ha!" What a laugh!—a roguish, child-like merriment of a Greek-godlike character—or want of it. Old Ladies talk to him quite trustingly at first sight; it's "ADOLF, have you such a thing as a bottle of gum—gummi, gum, you understand"; or, "Could you get me another cushion"? He can, and does. As for the children, they love him; he romps with them, and does conjuring tricks, and warbles innumerable songs. That man gets through more in one day than the Prime Minister of England—and, between you and me, I believe he is fully as capable—and yet he finds time to write a letter to his old mother at Hamburg—I have seen him do it. Perhaps it was about the cigars! The only people who hate ADOLF are the Under-Waiters; he rules them with a rod of iron, marshalling their heated battalions at table d'hôte, and plundering them of their sweethearts; if he breaks anything (hearts included), it is they who have to pay. It is ADOLF's only weakness—he is a bully to underlings of his own trade. But then he has been an Under-Waiter once himself, and suffering brutalises; however, he is outside the sphere of morality, and I could pardon him almost anything.
From time to time his fascinations induce an Englishman or Englishwoman to take this treasure home as a servant. But ADOLF in livery, and ADOLF with his magic order-book, are two very different people. Little things are missing; he becomes quarrelsome; the gipsy-spirit returns—and he is off again, blithe as ever, on his travels. "London very naice," he says, as you buy that infernal Pestarena; "Porebier, very naise; 'Ampton Court, very naise; I know dem, hein? But, is no sunshine, no air, no gaiety." And ADOLF cannot exist without sunshine, air, and gaiety. Also he prefers being his own master, which, as Head-Waiter, he practically is.
How insinuating he is about the food, "Some naice fishes? Dey was laiving dis morning." And then, how accommodating! I was once in the Grand Hôtel during the usual "exceptional season," when it rained unintermittently for a fortnight; the place was empty; "tristeful," as ADOLF styled it. The genius played billiards with me every day, and always won, though I rather fancy myself; and then how mindful he is of your individual bettings. "I gif you dis place by de window—to do you joy!" he ejaculates. The simple creature, he is constantly trying to "make you please."
I always present ADOLF with ten shillings—five on arrival, and five on departure. This procures me many harmless little privileges; and when old BROWN calls him an impertinent brute, I know that BROWN and ten shillings are difficult to part.
There is nothing ADOLF will not do for you for a sovereign—but I cannot run to this; and yet this is the impression he has made.
A LITTLE VAGUE!
Affable Landlady (to her new Artist Lodger), "AND I SUPPOSE, SIR, YOU COMES FROM ABROAD!"