The Sketches of Seymour by Robert Seymour (ebook reader TXT) 📖

who happened to be passing, showed their white teeth in a contemptuous grin at the African.

"Bob," I overheard one remark, "ar'n't you glad you ain't a black-a-moor?"

"I should think so," replied his sooty brother, "they're sich ugly warmints. Master's daughter, wots come from boarding school! says the sight of 'ems' enough to frighten one into conwulsions!"

Alas! for the prejudice of the world! How much this ignorant remark reminded me of my patron's unfounded hatred of all "forriners." It was precisely the same sentiment, differently expressed, that actuated the thoughts and opinions of both.

I must, however, do Mr. Timmis the justice to say, that he made ample amends to Monsieur Dubois for the affront he had so thoughtlessly put upon the worthy Frenchman; and did all in his power to obtain him pupils.

The consequent change in his dress and manner, his amiable conduct, and gentlemanly deportment, at last completely won upon the esteem of the boisterous broker, who swore, (for that was generally his elegant manner of expressing his sincerity) that Dubois was a 'downright good'un;' and were it not for his foreign accent, he should have taken him for an Englishman born - really believing, that there was no virtue in the world but of English growth.

I had now been above twelve-months in his office, and although I had received but a moderate compensation for my services, yet the vast improvement I had made (thanks to the instruction of Monsieur Dubois,) was more valuable than gold. My father also, though but scantily furnished with book-knowledge, had, nevertheless, the good sense to appreciate and encourage my progress; he was well aware, from observation, that 'knowledge is power,' and would frequently quote the old saw,

"When house, and land, and money's spent; Then larning is most excellent" -

and spared all the money he could scrape together to purchase books for me.

One day Mr. Crobble came into the office with an open letter in his hand. "Here," - cried he, "I've received a remittance at last from that, German fellow - two good bills on the first house in the city - but I can't make top nor tail of his rigmarole. Do you know any chap among your acquaintance who can read German?"

"Not I," replied Mr. Timmis.

"Will you allow me, Mr. Crobble?" said I, stepping forward. "This letter is written in French, not German, Sir," I observed.

"What's the difference to me, Master Andrew; it might as well be in wild Irish, for the matter o' that."

"Andrew can read the lingo," said my master.

"The devil he can!" exclaimed Mr. Crobble; "I dare say I shall be able to make it out," said I; "and if not, Monsieur Dubois will be here; to-morrow morning, and you can have it by twelve o'clock, sir."

"Ain't that the ticket?" exclaimed Mr. Timmis, delighted at the surprise of his friend; "you don't know how vastly clever we are, old fellow."

Mr. Crobble, much gratified at this information, placed the letter in my hands; and, leaving me to take a lunch at Garraway's with Mr. Timmis, I eagerly sat about my task - and luckily it was not only plainly written, but the subject-matter by no means difficult, being rather complimentary than technical. By the time they returned, I had not only translated, but made a fair copy of it, in my best hand.

"Come, that is clever," said Mr. Crobble; "let me see, now, what shall I give you?"

"Nothing, Sir," I promptly replied; "I am Mr. Timmis's clerk - and all that I know I owe to his kindness."

I saw, with pleasure, that this compliment was not lost upon my master.

Mr. Crobble was really a gentleman in feeling, and therefore did not persist in offering me any remuneration; but as he left the office, he said, "I thank you, Mr. Andrew - I shall not forget your services;" and departed evidently much pleased with my performance.


CHAPTER XIV. - A Dilemma.

"EE cawnt gow back, 'cause they locks the gates,"

"Well, can we go forward, then?" - "Noa, ee cawnt, 'cause the roads are under water;"


"EE cawnt gow back, 'cause they locks the gates," said a bumpkin on the road-side to a Cockney-party in a one-horse chaise.

"Well, can we go forward, then?" demanded the anxious and wearied traveller.

"Noa, ee cawnt, 'cause the roads are under water;" replied the joskin, with a grin.

This was certainly a situation more ridiculous than interesting; and I smiled when I heard the story told, little suspecting that Fortune would one day throw me into a similar dilemina - so blindly do we mortals hug ourselves in the supposed security of our tact and foresight.

"How d'ye do, Mr. Andrew," said Mr. Crobble, when he had seated himself, and sufficiently inflated his lungs, after the fatiguing operation of mounting the stairs.

"Where's Timmis? - tell him I want a word with him."

I quickly summoned my patron, and followed him into the office.

"Well, old puff and blow!" exclaimed Mr. Timmis, with his usual familiarity.

"What's in the wind? Want to sell out? The fives are fallen three per cent. since Friday. All the 'Change is as busy as the devil in a high wind."

"No - no more dabbling, Timmis," replied Mr. Crobble; "I lost a cool hundred last account; I want a word in private with you" - and he glanced towards me; upon which I seized my hat, and took up my position at my old post on the landing. How were my feelings altered since I first loitered there, listening to the marvels of poor Matthew!

I was lost in a pleasant reverie, when the sharp voice of Mr. Timmis recalled me.

"Andrew," said he, "my friend Crobble wants a clerk, and has cast his eye upon you. What do you say?"

I scarcely knew what to say. On one side stood my master, to whom I really owed so much - on the other his friend, who offered me a promotion, which I felt, on many accounts, was most attractive. "I should have no objection," I replied, "but great pleasure in serving Mr. Crobble, sir - but - I have received so many favours from you, that I'm afraid I might seem ungrateful."

The good-natured Mr. Wallis happily stepped in at this moment to my relief.

"Nonsense," replied Mr. Timmis; "the stock is delivered to the highest bidder; here Crobble backs eighteen shillings a week against my half-a-crown-take him."

I still felt some hesitation, although it was evident, from his expression, that Mr. Timmis valued the servant much less than the servant valued the master.

"Only look here, Wally," cried he; "here stands Andrew, like an ass between two bundles of hay."

"Rather like a bundle of hay between two asses, I think," replied Mr. Wallis; and good-naturedly tapping me on the shoulder, he continued - "accept Mr. Crobble's offer, Master Andrew: you're much too good for Timmis - he can soon get a grubby half-crown boy - but you may wait a long time for such an eligible offer."

"Eighteen shillings a week," said Mr. Crobble; who, I must confess, without any particular stretch of self-esteem, appeared anxious to engage me - , "but I shall want security."

That word "security" fell like an avalanche on my mounting spirit, and cast me headlong down the imaginary ascent my busy thoughts had climbed to!

"Five hundred pounds," continued Mr. Crobble; "d'ye think - have you any friends?"

"None, sir; my father is a poor man, and quite unable." I could scarcely speak - like the driver of the one-horse chaise, I could neither advance nor recede.

"The father," said Mr. Timmis, "is only a poor shoe-maker - a good fellow tho' - an excellent fit!"

"You mean to say," cried Mr. Wallis, "it were bootless to seek security of the shoe-maker."

A laugh ensued; and, notwithstanding my agitated feelings, I could not forbear being tickled by Mr. Wallis's humour, and joining in the merriment.

This sally gave a most favourable turn to the discussion. "Come," said Mr. Wallis, "I'll stand two hundred and fifty - and you, Timmis, must go the other."

"No; d me, he may bolt with the cash-box, and let me in, perhaps," exclaimed Mr. Timmis. I burst into tears; I felt, that from my long and faithful services, I deserved a better opinion - although I had no right to expect so great a favour.

Rude as he was, he felt some compunction at having wounded my feelings; and swore a round oath that he was only joking, and I was a fool. "Did I think, for a moment, that Wally should get the start of him; no - I was an honest chap, and he'd put his fist to double the amount to serve me;" and then bade me "sit to the books," and make all square before I cut my stick: and thus happily concluded this most momentous change in my circumstances.


CHAPTER XV. - An Old Acquaintance.

"Only three holidays left, and still this plaguey glass says 'very wet;' - I can't bear it - I can't - and I won't."


How impatiently did I count the minutes 'till the office was closed, for I longed to communicate the glad tidings of my good fortune to my worthy father. The old man wept with joy at the prospect, and assisted me in rearing those beautiful fabrics termed castles in the air.

His own trade, by the recommendation of the rough, ill-mannered, but good-natured Mr. Timmis, had wonderfully increased; and, by making some temporary sacrifices, he was enabled to give me an appearance more suitable to the new position in which I was so unexpectedly placed. In a narrow alley, on the south side of the Royal Exchange, on the ground-floor, I found the counting-house of Mr. Crobble. Under his directions, I quickly made myself master of the details of the business. Alas! it was but the slender fragment of a once flourishing mercantile house, of which time had gradually lopped off the correspondents, whilst his own inertness had not supplied the deficiency by a new connexion; for his father had left him such an ample fortune, that he was almost careless of the pursuit, although he could not make up his mind, as he said, to abandon the "old shop," where his present independence had been accumulated. I consequently found plenty of leisure, uninterrupted by the continual hurry and bustle of a broker's office, to pursue my favourite studies, and went on, not only to the entire satisfaction of Mr. Crobble, but to my own, and really began to find myself a man of some importance.

In the course of business, I one day fell in with an old acquaintance.

"A parcel for Cornelius Crobble, Esq.," said a little porter, of that peculiar stamp which is seen hanging about coach-offices - "Two and-sixpence."

I looked at the direction, and drew out the "petty cash" to defray the demand; when, then, first looking at the man, I thought I recognised his features.

"What!" cried I, "Isn't your name - "

"Matthew," answered he quickly.

"Matthew! - why, don't you know me?"

"No, sir," replied he, staring vacantly at me.

"Indeed! - Have I so outgrown all knowledge? Don't you recollect Andrew Mullins?"

"Good heavins!" exclaimed he, with