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Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 1, August 14, 1841 By: Various |
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VOL. 1. FOR THE WEEK ENDING AUGUST 14, 1841.
THE WIFE CATCHERS. A LEGEND OF MY UNCLE'S BOOTS. In Four Chapters.
CHAPTER III.
[Illustration: H]Haberdashers, continued my friend the boot, are wonderful
people; they make the greatest show out of the smallest stock whether of
brains or ribbons of any men in the world. A stranger could not pass
through the village of Ballybreesthawn without being attracted by a shop
which occupied the corner of the Market square and the main street, with a
window looking both ways for custom. In these windows were displayed sundry
articles of use and ornament toys, stationery, perfumery, ribbons, laces,
hardware, spectacles, and Dutch dolls. In a glass case on the counter were exhibited patent medicines, Birmingham
jewellery, court plaister, and side combs. Behind the counter might be seen
Mr. Matthew Tibbins, quite a precedent for country shop keepers, with
uncommonly fair hair and slender fingers, a profusion of visible linen, and
a most engaging lisp. In addition to his personal attractions, Tibbins
possessed a large stock of accomplishments, which, like his goods, "might
safely challenge competition." He was an acknowledged wit, and retailed
compliments and cotton balls to the young ladies who visited his emporium.
As a poet, too, his merits were universally known; for he had once
contributed a poetic charade to the Ladies' Almanack . He, moreover,
played delightfully on the Jews' harp, knew several mysterious tricks in
cards, and was an adept in the science of bread and butter cutting, which
made him a prodigious favourite with maiden aunts and side table cousins.
This was the individual whom fate had ordained to cross and thwart Terence
in his designs upon the heart of Miss Biddy O'Brannigan, and upon whom that
young lady, in sport or caprice, bestowed a large dividend of those smiles
which Terence imagined should be devoted solely to himself. The man of small wares was, in truth, a dangerous rival, from his very
insignificance. Had he been a man of spirit or corporal consideration,
Terence would have pistolled or thrashed him out of his audacious notions;
but the creature was so smiling and submissive that he could not, for the
life of him, dirty his fingers with such a contemptible wretch. Thus
Tibbins continued flattering and wriggling himself into Miss Biddy's good
graces, while Terence was fighting and kissing the way to her heart, till
the poor girl was fairly bothered between them. Miss Biddy O'Brannigan, I should have told you, sir, was an heiress, valued
at one thousand pounds in hard cash, living with an old aunt at Rookawn
Lodge, about six miles from Ballybreesthawn; and to this retreat of the
loves and graces might the rival lovers be seen directing their course,
after mass, every Sunday; the haberdasher in a green gig with red wheels,
and your uncle mounted on a bit of blood, taking the coal off Tibbins's
pipe with the impudence of his air, and the elegant polish of your humble
servants. Matters went on in this way for some time Miss O'Brannigan not having
declared in favour of either of her suitors when one bitter cold evening,
I remember it was in the middle of January, we were whipped off our peg in
the hall, and in company with our fellow labourers, the buckskin
continuations, were carried up to your uncle, whom we found busily
preparing for a ball, which was to be given that night by the heiress of
Rookawn Lodge. I confess that my brother and myself felt a strong
presentiment that something unfortunate would occur, and our forebodings
were shared by the buckskins, who, like ourselves, felt considerable
reluctance to join in the expedition. Remonstrance, however, would have
been idle; we therefore submitted with the best grace we could, and in a
few minutes were bestriding Terence's favourite hunter, and crossing the
country over ditch, dyke, and drain, as if we were tallying at the tail of
a fox... Continue reading book >>
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