Read Ebook: Sketches by Seymour — Volume 02 by Seymour Robert

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Ebook has 203 lines and 9351 words, and 5 pages

"I can tell you something, sir," continued the lad;--"there's no fish to be had where you are. I know the river well. Father's very fond o' fish; he always brings home plenty. If you like, sir, I can show you the place."

Here his companion rolled upon the grass and kicked, perfectly convulsed with laughter, luckily hidden from the view of the now mollified old gentleman.

"Indeed!" cried the angler: "is it far from this?"

"Not a quarter of a mile," replied the boy.

"That is nothing. I've walked eighteen this morning," said the old gentleman, packing up his apparatus. "I'll go with you directly, and thank you too, for I'm a perfect stranger in these parts."

When he had joined them, the laughing fits of the younger had subsided, although he chose to fall in the rear. "Now, to shew you how much more profitable it is to respect than to mock at your superiors in years, there's a --there's a halfpenny for you to purchase cakes."

"Thank ye, sir," said he, and turning to his companion with a wink: "Here Bill, run to Cummins' and buy a ha'p'orth of eights--we'll make the most of it--and I'll come to you as soon as I've shown the gentleman the fish."

"Show me the place, and I'll find the fish," said the anticipating angler.

On they trudged.

"Must we go through the town?" asked his companion, as he marched with his long rod in one hand and his can in the other.

"Yes, sir, it ain't far;" and he walked on at a quicker pace, while all the crowd of rustics gazed at t e extraordinary appearance of the armed Waltonian, for it happened to be market-day. After parading him in this fashion nearly through the town, he presently twitched him by his coat-sleeve.

"Look there, sir!" cried he, pointing to a well-stocked fishmonger's.

"Beautiful!--what a quantity!" exclaimed the venerable piscator.

"I thought you'd like it, sir--that's the place for fish, sir,--good morning."

"Eh! what--you young dog?"

"That's where father gets all his, I assure you, sir,--good morning," said the youth, and making a mock reverence, bounded off as fast as his legs could carry him.

"Vy, Sarah, you're drunk! I am quite ashamed o' you."

"Vell, vots the odds as long as you're happy!"

Jack was an itinerant vender of greens, and his spouse was a peripatetic distributor of the finny tribe, and both picked up a tolerable livelihood by their respective callings.

Like the lettuces he sold, Jack had a good heart, and his attention was first attracted to the subsequent object of his election by the wit of a passing boy, who asked the damsel how she sold her carrots? Jack's eyes were in an instant turned towards one whom he considered a competitor in the trade--when he beheld the physiognomy of his Sarah beaming with smiles beneath an abundant crop of sunny hair!

"You are a beauty and no mistake," exclaimed the green grocer in admiration.

"Flummery!" replied the damsel--the deep blush of modesty mantling her cheeks. Jack rested his basket on a post beside her stall, and drank deep draughts of love, while Sarah's delicate fingers were skilfully employed in undressing a pound of wriggling eels for a customer.

"Them's rig'lar voppers!" remarked Jack.

"Three to a pound," answered Sarah, and so they slipped naturally into discourse upon trade, its prospects and profits, and gradually a hint of partnership was thrown out.

Sarah laughed at his insinuating address, and displayed a set of teeth that rivalled crimped skate in their whiteness--a month afterwards they became man and wife. For some years they toiled on together--he, like a caterpillar, getting a living out of cabbages, and she, like an undertaker, out of departed soles! Latterly, however, Jack discovered that his spouse was rather addicted to 'summut short,' in fact, that she drank like a fish, although the beverage she affected was a leetle stronger than water. Their profit permitted them the same baneful indulgence--and kept them both in spirits!

Their trade, however, fell off for they were often unable to carry their baskets.

The last time we beheld them, Sarah was sitting in the cooling current of a gutter, with her heels upon the curb while Jack, having disposed of his basket, had obtained a post in a public situation, was holding forth on the impropriety of her conduct.

"How can you let yourself down so?" said he,--"You're drunk--drunk, Sarah, drunk!"

"On'y a little elevated, Jack."

"Elevated!--floor'd you mean."

"Vell; vot's the odds as long as you're happy?"

Jack finding all remonstrance was vain, brought himself up, and reeling forward, went as straight home--as he could, leaving his spouse soaking her clay, because he refused to support her!

"Lawk a'-mercy! I'm going wrong! and got to walk all that way back again."

A pedestrian may get robbed of his money on the highway, but a cross-road frequently robs him of time and patience; for when haply he considers himself at his journey's end, an impertinent finger-post, offering him the tardy and unpleasant information that he has wandered from his track, makes him turn about and wheel about, like Jim Crow, in anything but a pleasant humor.

It were well if every wayfarer were like the sailor, who when offered a quid from the 'bacoo box of a smoker, said, 'I never chews the short-cut!' and in the same spirit, we strongly advise him, before he takes the short-cut to think of the returns!

Should the weather prove rainy, the hungry traveller may certainly get a wet on the road, although he starves before he reaches the wished-for inn.

As there is likewise no more chance of meeting a good tempered guide on a cross-road, than of finding eggs and bacon, in an edible state, at least on a common--and as he can no more pull in the summer-rains than he can the reins of a runaway stallion; the result is, the inexperienced youth ludicrously represents so many pounds of 'dripping,' and although he may be thirsty, he will have no cause to complain that he is--dry! The best mode for an honest man to go round the country, is to take a straight-forward course, especially when the surcharged clouds do rule the horizon with sloping lines of rain! Besides, it is by no means a pleasant thing for a man with a scanty wardrobe, to find his clothes running away at a most unpleasant rate, while he can scarcely drag one clay-encumbered leg after the other.

It is a difficult trial, too, of a man's philosophy, after trudging over a long field, to be encountered by the mockery of a 'ha! ha!'--fence! He utters a few bitter expletives, perhaps, but nought avails his railing against such a fence as that!

The shower which makes all nature smile, only causes him to laugh--on the wrong side of his mouth, for he regards it as a temperance man does a regular soaker!

"I'm dem'd if I can ever hit 'em."

It is a most extraordinary thing, 'pon my veracity: I go out as regularly as the year, and yet I never bring down an individual bird.

I have one of the best Mantons going with such a bore! and then I use the best shot--but not being the best shot in the world myself--I suppose is the identical reason why I never hit any thing. I think it must arise from a natural defect in my sight; for when I suppose a covey as near--as my miser of an uncle--they are probably as distant--as my ninety-ninth cousin!

Such a rum go!--the other day I had a troop of fellows at my heels, laughing like mad; and what do you think?--when I doffed my shooting jacket, I found some wag had stuck the top of a printed placard on my back, with the horrid words, "A young Gentleman missing!"

It was only last week, a whole flight of sparrows rose at my very feet--I fired--bang!--no go!--but I heard a squall; and elevating my glass, lo! I beheld a cottage within a few yards of my muzzle--the vulgar peasant took the trouble to leap his fence, and inform me I had broken his windows--of course I was compelled to pay him for his panes.

To be sure he did rather indicate a disposition to take away my gun--which I certainly should never have relinquished without a struggle--and so I forked out the dibs, in order to keep the piece! I'm quite positive, however, that the vagabond over-charged me, and I kicked, as was quite natural, you know, under such circumstances!

I really have an imperfect notion of disposing of my shooting-tackle--but I'm such an unfortunate devil, that I really believe when I post 'em up for sale--my gun will not go off!--dem me!

"Have you read the leader in this paper, Mr. Brisket?"

"No! I never touch a newspaper; they are all so werry wenal, and Ovoid of sentiment!"

BRISKET. It's werry well; but me it never pleases; I never reads the news, and sees no merit In anythink as breathes a party sperrit.

BOB. Ain't you a hinglishman? and yet not feel A hint'rest, Brisket, in the common-weal?

BRISKET. The common-weal be--anything for me,-- There ain't no sentiment as I can see In all the stuff these sons of--Britain prate-- They talk too much and do too little for the state.

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