“‘My dear madam’—and Candytuft appealed to Mrs. Jericho—‘is not this a delightful group—an exquisite family picture? It ought to be painted.’”
| A Family Picture. |
Mr. Candytuft is right. The graceful figures of the girls, the attenuated figure of papa, in whose hopeless expression one sees the dread of further attenuation, together with his own perfect presentment, would make—indeed, does make—an admirable picture. The jewels cost one thousand pounds: ten calls have to be made upon the supernatural bank. They are made, and the jeweller is paid. And the result! For some minutes after the departure of the tradesman Jericho sat motionless—all but breathless. He would, however, know his fate. He took out the silk lace with which an hour ago he had measured his chest. Again he passed it round his body. He had drawn upon the bank, and he had shrunk an inch.
Truly he was a man made of money—money was the principle of his being, for with every note he paid away a portion of his life.
Poor Mr. Carraway was ruined through no fault of his own. Jogtrot Hall was sold, and Jericho bought it. Thirty thousand pounds’ worth of flesh had he sacrificed to buy to himself a country mansion. He had become a member of Parliament, and at the same time become so thin that his tailor declared, “It’s like measuring a penknife for a sheath.” “Why,” said the tailor to his wife, “he isn’t a man at all, but a cotton-pod. He can’t have no more stomach than a ’bacco-pipe.” In fact, it was the growing belief of a large circle that Jericho was no flesh, no man, at all. “He was made up of coats,” ran the rumour, “like an onion.”
The insolence that is sometimes the accompaniment of great riches took full possession of Mr. Jericho, and he found an occasion to treat Colonel Bones to a specimen of it. Almost without provocation the Colonel was called “a toad-eater! a bone-picking pauper!” etc. For this insult the Colonel declared he would have Mr. Jericho’s blood, and in pursuance of that object he sent the millionaire a challenge. Jericho fought very hard to avoid fighting, but his second, Mr. Candytuft, prevailed, and the belligerents met in Battersea Fields. Mr. Commissioner Thrush waited upon the angry Colonel, and the celebrated Dr. Dodo was there to attend to the wounded. The seconds confer; the men are placed. Candytuft looked at them with an eye of admiration. The signal was given.
“Colonel Bones fires, and his ball goes clear through Jericho’s bosom, knocking off a button in its passage, and striking itself flat against a pile of bricks.”