Stubbs is not an uncommon name; and though I saw MRS. STUBBS on a little bright brass plate, in Duke Street, and delivered so many letters to the lodgers in her house, I never thought of asking who she was, or whether she was my relation, or not.
One day the young woman who took in the letters had not got change, and she called her mistress;—an old lady in a poke bonnet came out of the parlour, and put on her spectacles, and looked at the letter, and fumbled in her pocket for eight-pence, and apologized to the postman for keeping him waiting; and when I said, "Never mind, ma'am, it's no trouble," the old lady gave a start, and then she pulled off her spectacles, and staggered back; and then she began muttering, as if about to choke; and then she gave a great screech, and flung herself into my arms, and roared out, "MY SON! MY SON!"
"Law, mamma," said I, "is that you?" and I sat down on the hall bench with her, and let her kiss me as much as ever she liked. Hearing the whining and crying, down comes another lady from upstairs,—it was my sister Eliza; and down come the lodgers. And the maid gets water, and what not, and I was the regular hero of the group. I could not stay long then, having my letters to deliver. But, in the evening, after mail-time, I went back to my mamma and sister: and, over a bottle of prime old Port, and a precious good leg of boiled mutton and turnips, made myself pretty comfortable, I can tell you.
BLARNEYHUM ASS-TROLOGICUM PRO ANNO 1839.
Gentle Reader,—
Beware of false prophets, who predict of the times, which, but for thy simplicity, would be for them "out of joint"—of the seasons, of which they know not, save that they yield them a profitable harvest,—and of the winds, for which they care not, so that they blow them good; but turn from them awhile, and regard the Hieroglyphicum in Obscuro I here set before thee, and the interpretation thereof; and, if it come not as I predict, thou may'st guess the reason why. Unlucky planets rule the State Kitchen; and the great kettle being filled by Aquarius, with Sol in opposition, an unfriendly boil is produced, which maketh the place so hot that the Cooks find it hard to stay within, though loth to go out. Moreover, being of one mind as to the making of a mess, but differing as to the manner thereof, they have fallen to fighting, to settle the question, and are all going to pot together. By a touch of my wand, behold them transmogrified into a Lamb's head, served with a plentiful dressing of strong Durham mustard, a little Jack clinging to the side, as though he wished himself out of this pretty kettle of fish, and a fowl, though, by his looks, no chicken, attempting his escape in the form of a winged Cupid. He does not like his company, and has made his bow—behold it in his hand. Another fish, more like a Sir John than a sturgeon, seems as though his berth was far from pleasant. The Mistress, alarmed by the noise, comes to the window to see what is the matter; an ancient Master Cook, from Arthur's, stands, ladle in hand, his fingers itching to skim the scum off as it rises. An old Kitchen Maid, who, though pensioned off, will still have a finger in every pie, hath been stirring the fire with a worn-out broom-handle, (perchance she hath slyly put in a pinch of gunpowder) and is now playing the part of blow-bellows. She seemeth, by the satisfactionated curl of her nose, to be happy to see them all in hot water.
Now, as to the application hereof, every man must judge for himself; but of a verity it doth to me appear, that too many cooks will spoil any broth. And, while I speak of cookery, let me advise thee as to thy treatment of that which a departed wiseacre denominated the "worse than useless root." If, rejecting his advice, none but this fruit will content thee, let me counsel thee to follow my example—having well roasted my Murphy, I take him "cum grano salis." Now, touching other mundane matters, thou wilt herein find copious instructions, sage predictions, and wholesome advice, on which thou mayest surely rely, though I am no M.N.S., which can but mean Member of No Society.
Thine ever,
Rigdum Funnidos.
