A House to Let, et al by Charles Dickens (spicy books to read TXT) đ
- Author: Charles Dickens
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He had what I consider a fine mindâa poetic mind. His ideas respectin his property never come upon him so strong as when he sat upon a barrel-organ and had the handle turned. Arter the wibration had run through him a little time, he would screech out, âToby, I feel my property comingâgrind away! Iâm counting my guineas by thousands, Tobyâgrind away! Toby, I shall be a man of fortun! I feel the Mint a jingling in me, Toby, and Iâm swelling out into the Bank of England!â Such is the influence of music on a poetic mind. Not that he was partial to any other music but a barrel-organ; on the contrary, hated it.
He had a kind of a everlasting grudge agin the Public: which is a thing you may notice in many phenomenons that get their living out of it. What riled him most in the nater of his occupation was, that it kep him out of Society. He was continiwally saying, âToby, my ambition is, to go into Society. The curse of my position towards the Public is, that it keeps me hout of Society. This donât signify to a low beast of a Indian; he anât formed for Society. This donât signify to a Spotted Baby; HE anât formed for Society.âI am.â
Nobody never could make out what Chops done with his money. He had a good salary, down on the drum every Saturday as the day came round, besides having the run of his teethâand he was a Woodpecker to eatâbut all Dwarfs are. The sarser was a little income, bringing him in so many halfpence that heâd carry âem for a week together, tied up in a pocket-handkercher. And yet he never had money. And it couldnât be the Fat Lady from Norfolk, as was once supposed; because it stands to reason that when you have a animosity towards a Indian, which makes you grind your teeth at him to his face, and which can hardly hold you from Goosing him audible when heâs going through his WarDanceâit stands to reason you wouldnât under them circumstances deprive yourself, to support that Indian in the lap of luxury.
Most unexpected, the mystery come out one day at Egham Races. The Public was shy of bein pulled in, and Chops was ringin his little bell out of his drawing-room winder, and was snarlin to me over his shoulder as he kneeled down with his legs out at the back-doorâfor he couldnât be shoved into his house without kneeling down, and the premises wouldnât accommodate his legsâwas snarlin, âHereâs a precious Public for you; why the Devil donât they tumble up?â when a man in the crowd holds up a carrier-pigeon, and cries out, âIf thereâs any person here as has got a ticket, the Lotteryâs just drawed, and the number as has come up for the great prize is three, seven, forty-two! Three, seven, forty-two!â I was givin the man to the Furies myself, for calling off the Publicâs attentionâfor the Public will turn away, at any time, to look at anything in preference to the thing showed âem; and if you doubt it, get âem together for any indiwidual purpose on the face of the earth, and send only two people in late, and see if the whole company anât far more interested in takin particular notice of them two than of youâ I say, I wasnât best pleased with the man for callin out, and wasnât blessin him in my own mind, when I see Chopsâs little bell fly out of winder at a old lady, and he gets up and kicks his box over, exposin the whole secret, and he catches hold of the calves of my legs and he says to me, âCarry me into the wan, Toby, and throw a pail of water over me or Iâm a dead man, for Iâve come into my property!â
Twelve thousand odd hundred pound, was Chopsâs winnins. He had bought a half-ticket for the twenty-five thousand prize, and it had come up. The first use he made of his property, was, to offer to fight the Wild Indian for five hundred pound a side, him with a poisoned darnin-needle and the Indian with a club; but the Indian being in want of backers to that amount, it went no further.
Arter he had been mad for a weekâin a state of mind, in short, in which, if I had let him sit on the organ for only two minutes, I believe he would have bustâbut we kep the organ from himâMr. Chops come round, and behaved liberal and beautiful to all. He then sent for a young man he knowed, as had a wery genteel appearance and was a Bonnet at a gaming-booth (most respectable brought up, father havin been imminent in the livery stable line but unfortânate in a commercial crisis, through paintin a old gray, ginger-bay, and sellin him with a Pedigree), and Mr. Chops said to this Bonnet, who said his name was Normandy, which it wasnât:
âNormandy, Iâm a goin into Society. Will you go with me?â
Says Normandy: âDo I understand you, Mr. Chops, to hintimate that the âole of the expenses of that move will be borne by yourself?â
âCorrect,â says Mr. Chops. âAnd you shall have a Princely allowance too.â
The Bonnet lifted Mr. Chops upon a chair, to shake hands with him, and replied in poetry, with his eyes seemingly full of tears:
âMy boat is on the shore, And my bark is on the sea, And I do not ask for more, But Iâll Go:- along with thee.â
They went into Society, in a chay and four grays with silk jackets. They took lodgings in Pall Mall, London, and they blazed away.
In consequence of a note that was brought to Bartlemy Fair in the autumn of next year by a servant, most wonderful got up in milk-white cords and tops, I cleaned myself and went to Pall Mall, one evening appinted. The gentlemen was at their wine arter dinner, and Mr. Chopsâs eyes was more fixed in that Ed of his than I thought good for him. There was three of âem (in company, I mean), and I knowed the third well. When last met, he had on a white Roman shirt, and a bishopâs mitre covered with leopard-skin, and played the clarionet all wrong, in a band at a Wild Beast Show.
This gent took on not to know me, and Mr. Chops said: âGentlemen, this is a old friend of former days:â and Normandy looked at me through a eye-glass, and said, âMagsman, glad to see you!ââwhich Iâll take my oath he wasnât. Mr. Chops, to git him convenient to the table, had his chair on a throne (much of the form of George the Fourthâs in the canvass), but he hardly appeared to me to be King there in any other pint of view, for his two gentlemen ordered about like Emperors. They was all dressed like May-Dayâgorgeous!âAnd as to Wine, they swam in all sorts.
I made the round of the bottles, first separate (to say I had done it), and then mixed âem all together (to say I had done it), and then tried two of âem as half-and-half, and then tâother two. Altogether, I passed a pleasin evenin, but with a tendency to feel muddled, until I considered it good manners to get up and say, âMr. Chops, the best of friends must part, I thank you for the wariety of foreign drains you have stood so âansome, I looks towards you in red wine, and I takes my leave.â Mr. Chops replied, âIf youâll just hitch me out of this over your right arm, Magsman, and carry me downstairs, Iâll see you out.â I said I couldnât think of such a thing, but he would have it, so I lifted him off his throne. He smelt strong of Maideary, and I couldnât help thinking as I carried him down that it was like carrying a large bottle full of wine, with a rayther ugly stopper, a good deal out of proportion.
When I set him on the door-mat in the hall, he kep me close to him by holding on to my coat-collar, and he whispers:
âI ainât âappy, Magsman.â
âWhatâs on your mind, Mr. Chops?â
âThey donât use me well. They anât grateful to me. They puts me on the mantel-piece when I wonât have in more Champagne-wine, and they locks me in the sideboard when I wonât give up my property.â
âGet rid of âem, Mr. Chops.â
âI canât. Weâre in Society together, and what would Society say?â
âCome out of Society!â says I.
âI canât. You donât know what youâre talking about. When you have once gone into Society, you mustnât come out of it.â
âThen if youâll excuse the freedom, Mr. Chops,â were my remark, shaking my head grave, âI think itâs a pity you ever went in.â
Mr. Chops shook that deep Ed of his, to a surprisin extent, and slapped it half a dozen times with his hand, and with more Wice than I thought were in him. Then, he says, âYouâre a good fellow, but you donât understand. Good-night, go along. Magsman, the little man will now walk three times round the Cairawan, and retire behind the curtain.â The last I see of him on that occasion was his tryin, on the extremest werge of insensibility, to climb up the stairs, one by one, with his hands and knees. Theyâd have been much too steep for him, if he had been sober; but he wouldnât be helped.
It warnât long after that, that I read in the newspaper of Mr. Chopsâs being presented at court. It was printed, âIt will be recollectedââand Iâve noticed in my life, that it is sure to be printed that it WILL be recollected, whenever it wonâtââthat Mr. Chops is the individual of small stature, whose brilliant success in the last State Lottery attracted so much attention.â Well, I says to myself, Such is Life! He has been and done it in earnest at last. He has astonished George the Fourth!
(On account of which, I had that canvass new-painted, him with a bag of money in his hand, a presentin it to George the Fourth, and a lady in Ostrich Feathers fallin in love with him in a bag-wig, sword, and buckles correct.)
I took the House as is the subject of present inquiriesâthough not the honour of bein acquaintedâand I run Magsmanâs Amusements in it thirteen monthsâsometimes one thing, sometimes another, sometimes nothin particular, but always all the canvasses outside. One night, when we had played the last company out, which was a shy company, through its raining Heavens hard, I was takin a pipe in the one pair back along with the young man with the toes, which I had taken on for a month (though he never drawedâexcept on paper), and I heard a kickin at the street door. âHalloa!â I says to the young man, âwhatâs up!â He rubs his eyebrows with his toes, and he says, âI canât imagine, Mr. Magsmanââwhich he never could imagine nothin, and was monotonous company.
The noise not leavin off, I laid down my pipe, and I took up a candle, and I went down and opened the door. I looked out into the street; but nothin could I see, and nothin was I aware of, until I turned round quick, because some creetur run between my legs into the passage. There was Mr. Chops!
âMagsman,â he says, âtake me, on the old terms, and youâve got me; if itâs done, say done!â
I was all of a maze, but I said, âDone, sir.â
âDone to your done, and double done!â
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