by R S Surtees
“Oh, Hall! how are you?” exclaimed the monster, attempting to rise, and falling back like an over-fed pig in its sty—” Hall, how are you?” repeated he, extending a fin, with an “excuse my rising, but the fact is, I’m sufferin’ from the effects of a fall — deuced bad fail — nearly killed yesterday — upset on my coach — stupid old man and his hounds — horses took fright — pitched on my head — he just rode on — never asked if I was killed. However, here I am, and I’m glad to see you; pray take a seat — arm-chair at your side — hope Mrs Hall’s well?”
Having sidled himself into a seat, Hall crowned one knee-cap with his broad-brimmed hat, and resting his fat hand on the other, sat contemplating the colonel.
“You’re the very man I want to see — you’re the very man I want to see! — you can tell me all I want to know!” exclaimed he.
“Sivin and four’s elivin, and nineteen is thirty, and twenty-four is fifty-four; he’s coin’ to the point at once,” thought Hall.
“You see, Brown — I mean, Hall — confound it, you’re so like Brown that I never know the difference — hang’d if there isn’t a resemblance throughout the whole of you Fleecyborough commercialists. Juggins is as like Huggins as ever he can stare; Tiffin and Trotter might pass for brothers.”
“They are brothers,” replied the banker.
“What, was the father called Tiffin?” asked the colonel.
“Trotter,” replied the banker.
“Ah, then Tiffin changed his name, did he? — for a fortin’ most likely — mercenary dog. And that reminds me of what I was wantin’ to ask you — to talk to you about. I’ve been in a devil of a stew these last few days. Every ‘Times’ that I take up contains some marvellous story about gold — gold in the mud, gold in the clay, gold in bridges, gold everywhere; and I want to know what’s to be the value of gold? I want to know whether gold’s to be of any more worth, or one may just take and sow it broadcast over the land, or empty one’s pockets of it among the little boys in the streets? ‘What shall I do with my money, in fact? ‘as I see staring me at the head of an advertisement.”
“Sivin and four’s elivin, and thirteen is twenty-four; there’s no doubt,” replied Hall, slowly and deliberately—” there’s no doubt that the abundance of any article has a tendency to lower its value; but gold’s not become a drug yet.”
“Drug yet!” exclaimed the colonel, striking out both fins—” drug yet! Then you anticipate its becoming a drug, do you?” added he, with a look of alarm.
“Sivin and four’s elivin, and thirty-three is forty-four; there’s no manner of doubt there’s a great deal of gold comin’ into the country — the quantity from California was immense, and they’re gettin’ as much, if not more, in Australia. The Bank of England can’t afford to pay three pund sixteen and a penny-halfpenny per ounce for gold, when others can buy it for three-four-six per ounce, seven and a half better than the standard.”
“Ah, now,” exclaimed the colonel, “you’re gettin’ into the mysteries of the currency, a thing I never could understand. I’m not a learned man — I’m not a mercenary man — I’m not a covetous man. I know that twelve-pence make a shillin’, and that twenty shillin’s make a pund; but I want to know if a pun’s to be only worth ten shillin’s in futur’, and if everything else is to fall in proportion?”
“Sivin and four’s elivin, and eighteen is twenty-nine; the man has money, I think,” mused Hall; “and ninety-four is a ‘under’d and twenty-three. I’ll try and find out where it is.” He then addressed himself to the colonel. “Money — that’s to say Consols — will fall undoubtedly, colonel. If you reduce the interest on the national debt, say one per cent, you’ll reduce the value of money one-third; but land shares, and all other tangible available property, will rise.”
“The devil they will!” exclaimed the colonel. “Then do you mean to say the fundholder’s to be robbed for the landowner?”
“Sivin and four’s elivin, and forty’s fifty-one; that touches him,” thought Hall. “The monied interest has had a longish day, and not altogether a bad ‘un,” replied he, slowly and deliberately. “Much of our debt was contracted at sixty, and is now worth ninety-six and three-eighths, and it’s about time the land had a turn.”
“What! you’re a landowner, are you?” asked the colonel.
“Sivin and four’s elivin, and forty-nine’s sixty, and fifty-four’s a ‘under’d and fourteen. Not exactly a landowner,” replied our friend; “somethin’ akin to it, though.”
“I twig,” replied the colonel, with a knowing leer. “An uncle — an agricultural uncle, you mean to say. Haw, haw, haw! ho, ho, ho! he, he, he! I dare say there’s a vast of land up the spout. You’ll be grabbing an estate some day, and setting up for a gentleman. Fellers used to think when they got four silver side-dishes they were gentlemen,” continued the colonel; “but since those plated Brummagem things came up, they’ve gone upon land — they think land’s the thing. You’ll be setting your son up in an estate, at all events?” he added.
“Sivin and four’s elivin, and two ‘under’d and thirty’s two ‘under’d and forty-one, and ninety’s three ‘under’d and thirty-one,” calculated Hall, getting up the steam. “It was my son I was comin’ to talk to you about,” replied he—” my son and your darter,” added he.
“Oh, faith, aye! I’d forgotten all that in my anxiety about my money,” replied the colonel, in the most matter-of-course off-hand way. “I dare say you and I will soon settle that. We’ll be much of the same mind. It’s all very well for boys and girls to philander, and bill and coo, and make eyes at each other; but experienced men of the world, like you and I, know that it don’t do for people to marry too young. A man shouldn’t marry before he’s thirty. Doesn’t know his own mind — tires of a woman — neglects her. Don’t do — woman much better single — girl with a fortin’, at least. At the same time, I assure you, both Mrs Colonel Blunt and I are sensible of the compliment your son has paid our daughter. He’s a very fine young man; is Joseph — I mean Henry.”
“Tummus,” interposed the parent.
“I beg your pardon, Thomas. I was thinking of Buss’s son; his name’s Joseph — a smooth-faced lookin’ sinner he is too — deep file for all that. But Thomas is a good feller — very good feller — nice open-countenanced feller, and fat. Don’t like your whipping-post boys. Now you and I,” continued he, looking the banker over, “are much what men ought to be — full limbed and plump; but the generality of the men nowadays are mere lath and plaister, if I may use such an expression.”
“Sivin and four’s elivin, and ninety-nine’s a ‘under’d and ten; he’s not such a bad old buffer after all,” mused Hall, as the colonel proceeded; “looks as if he had money, not being keen for the match. The room certainly isn’t well furnished,” looking about him; “carpet doesn’t half-cover the floor, and sofa looks like a job from Mrs Smoothley’s in the Terrace-lane; curtains, too, are faded and dirty — but that may be whim, or the fortunes of war.”
This reverie was interrupted by the colonel stamping with his iron-plated heel on the uncarpeted part of the floor, and exclaiming —
“You must take a little refreshment after your walk Hall; keen winter air must have given you an appetite. You don’t hunt, I think, do you?”
“Never either hunted or gammled,” replied the banker, with a shake of his head.
“Ah, well, you’re a wise man,” replied the colonel; adding, to a gigantic soldier-footman who now came settling himself into his tawdry coat, “bring a tray, Jasper, bring a tray.”
“Thank’ee, colonel, nothing for me, I’m obleeged,” interposed the man of money.
“Oh, but you must; indeed, you must,” exclaimed the colonel. “This is the first time you’ve been in my little crib — wouldn’t come to our ear-ache and stomachache — most brilliant thing of the season. Must break bread with us now — indeed, you must.”
Jasper now returned, bearing a massive silver tray, with a richly-cut decante
r of sherry, surrounded with little blown glass plates, containing finger-biscuits, saucer-cakes, currant buns, and other remnants of that notable feast, now fresh out of Mrs Blunt’s bonnet-box.
“Get out the Cardigan, Jasper,” said the colonel to the man, who forthwith produced a three-quarters-full black bottle, with the word “Brandy” in black letters on the ivory label.
“Ah, that’s the stuff!” exclaimed the colonel, as the man placed it on the stand; “that’s the stuff!” repeated he, his eyes glistening with delight. “Now, take a drop of this — just a thimbleful,” continued he, seizing a tumbler, and filling it about half-full.
“Thank you, sir; thank you, sir — I’m very much obliged to you, sir,” exclaimed Mr Hall, endeavouring to arrest the filling, “but I really—”
“You really must oblige me,” interrupted the colonel; “this is the first time I have had the pleasure of seeing you — at least, of seeing you here; and though I’ve not had the pleasure of dining with you yet, I shall have very great satisfaction in doing so; for you Fleecy-borough folks, though there’s not much style about you, have a deal of good rough honest hospitality, which, in my opinion, is a much better thing; and I don’t know any quarter in England where you get such undeniable mutton — mutton that eats like mutton, instead of the nasty, watery, stringy, turnipy stuff, neither mutton nor lamb, that other countries are inundated with.” The colonel then filled himself an equally liberal glass, and, nodding to his guest, was soon deep in its contents. “That’s good,” said he, “very good,” smacking his lips as he placed the glass on the table.
“Very bad,” thought Mrs Blunt, who was listening at the door; “I’m sure you’ll be tipsy.”
“Take a biscuit, or a bun, or some of these absurdities?” said the colonel, flourishing his hand over the tray.
“None, I’m much obleeged,” replied the banker, who thought they didn’t look very fresh.
“Ah, well; I dare say you’re right,” observed the colonel. “Drinkin’s better for the teeth than eatin’,” added he, draining the contents of his glass. He then took, if possible, a more liberal measure than before. “To resume our conversation,” said he, glancing his bloodshot eyes at the banker— “to resume our conversation about the young people. I think we understand each other — I think we understand each other. I have, I assure you, the very greatest regard and consideration for my young friend Joe — I mean to say, Tom; there’s no young man I have so high an opinion of as I have of him — no young man that I would sooner have as a son-in-law; and if he continues of the same mind, and all things were made pleasant, of course I should not say no. But then, that must be all in good time — all in good time; must know each other — must understand each other — must appreciate each other. Young folks hardly out of their ‘teens are not fit to enter into the binding entanglements of matrimony — monthly nurses, coral rattles, caudle, and cryin’ children,” the colonel kicking out his right fin as if undergoing persecution from a crying child already.
Hall followed the renewed debate, with the following mental commentary —
“Sivin and four’s elivin, and a ‘under’d and ninety’s two ‘under’d and one — wonder wot he’s going to be at now; and thirty’s two ‘under’d and thirty-one — wonder if he would make things pleasant; and fourteen is two ‘under’d and forty-five — she’s a devilish deal older than that; and forty’s two ‘under’d and eighty - five — a cryin’ brat’s a terrible nuisance; Mrs Buss’s bairn’s always cryin’.”
Text and commentary coming to a close, the plump diplomatists then sat staring, each wishing the other would come to the point.
“You don’t get on with your beverage,” at length observed the colonel, seeing his guest sat nursing his tumbler on his fat knee; “would you like sherry, or gin, or shrub, or anything else?”
“Thank ye, no, colonel; it’s very good, but rather strong,” replied Hall, taking a sip, and setting down the glass.
“Oh, brandy can hurt no one,” replied the colonel; “brandy can hurt no one — most wholesome beverage there is — recommended by the faculty,” continued he, draining his tumbler again, and replenishing it plentifully. “Your good health, Hall,” said he, holding it up, and addressing the banker; “your good health — Mrs Hall’s good health, my friend Tom’s good health. I like a feller like you,” said he, smacking his lips, as he set down the glass—” a man without any gammon or blandishment, who comes to the point at once, instead of hummin’ and hawin’, and beatin’ about the bush, as some aggrivatin’ fellers do.”
“Sivin and four’s elivin, and forty-five is fifty-six — he’s humbuggin’ now,” thought Hall; “what does he mean by blandishment?”
“You and I are gettin’ on in years,” continued the colonel, “and shall both be damping off before long, and our objects, I’ve no doubt, are the same — to see our children comfortably settled while we live; and should anything come of this youthful — romantic attachment, I’ve no doubt you’ll come down devilish handsome — turn some of your dibs into land, and buy them a good substantial family house, with greenhouse and granaries and gardens and all complete, so that they may increase and multiply in comfort.”
“Sivin and four’s elivin, and five ‘under’d and nine is five ‘under’d and twenty — he’s coming to the point in style,” thought Hall. “How would it suit you, colonel, to get out of your money, and invest it in land?” asked he.
“Confounded old beggar has me there,” growled the colonel to himself. “Why, I don’t know,” replied he, “it might be a temptation; or as we are castle-building, you and I, s’pose we say — if the thing takes place — we each put down — what shall I say? — twenty, or five-and-twenty thousand?”
“Sivin and four’s elivin, and three ‘under’d and four is three ‘under’d and fifteen — that’s to the point, at all events,” mused Hall. “Well,” said he, taking up his hat, and stretching it incontinently on his knee—” well,” repeated he, “I’m not prepared to say that I wouldn’t. But then, again,” continued he, after a little more mental arithmetic, “it would fall much heavier on me than it would on you.”
“How so?” asked the colonel, chuckling at the idea of any one supposing him worth five-and-twenty thousand pounds.
“Why, this way, you see,” said Hall, still stretching away at his hat; “my money’s employed in business, yielding me from 15 to 20 per cent.”
“The devil it is!” exclaimed the colonel; “and yet you only allow 2 per cent to depositors, and talk of reducing that. Well, hang me,” added he, slapping his thigh, “but I’ve always said bankers, brewers, and bakers are the biggest rogues under the sun!”
“Indeed,” smiled the banker, amused at his host’s vehemence; “mine’s a successful business, because it’s well attended to — you never see me huntin’, or gammlin’, or drivin’ coaches and four.” Our friend looking earnestly at the colonel, as if he had paid him off for his rude speech. “But what I was goin’ to say, colonel, is this: my money being so well employed, and yours so ill, wouldn’t it be better, before the great influx of gold sends down the funds, for you to sell out and buy an estate?”
“Well, I don’t know but it might,” replied the colonel, with an air of indifference. “I’ll consult my lawyers on the point — no man dare blow his nose without consulting his lawyer, you know; haw, haw, haw!”
“Well, then,” observed Hall, after a long pause and a sideways stretch of his hat, “I s’pose that’s as far as we can go this mornin’?”
“I s’pose it is,” replied the colonel, “unless you’ll take another go of brandy — plenty in the bottle,” added he, nodding towards it.
“Thank’ee, no more, colonel, I am obleeged,” moving his chair as if about to rise; when a thought struck him. “You’re in the funds, I think you say — Consols, I s’pose?”
“Consols,” nodded the colonel.
“In your own name, of course?” observed the banker, with an air of indifference.
>
“In my own name,” repeated the colonel.
The man of metal then rose to depart.
“Well, then, Brown — that’s to say, Hall,” observed the colonel, scrambling off the sofa and grasping his hand, “I’m much obliged by the friendly nature of this visit. Damnation! I like an honest open - countenanced feller, without guile or blandishment, who comes to the point like a man. I little thought, when I called to ask you to our ear-ache and stomach-ache, that we should ever come to anything like this; but I’m sure, if the young people, after a rational acquaintance, feel the same way towards each other that they do now, that we, out of our great abundance, will make them very comfortable,” the colonel dashing his fat paw across his blear eyes as if to check a rising tear as he spoke.
Hall returned the warmth of the colonel’s grasp, and then, with a “Your servant, colonel,” rolled out of the room, nearly tumbling over Jasper, who was kneeling with his ear at the key-hole.
Arrived at the bank, Hall drew out his daily letter of advice to his London correspondents, Messrs Bullock & Hulker, enclosing a slip of paper, with the following written in pencil —
“Please get Mr Ferret to find out the amount of stock standing in the name of Lieutenant-Colonel Thomas Blunt, of the Heavysteed Dragoons. I have a particular reason for wishing to know. T. H.”
CHAPTER XXII.
ANOTHER HORSE DEAL.
THE BETROTHED ONES now take a ride together; Tom on his hundred-and-twenty-guinea horse, Angelena on the redoubtable Rumtouch, now called Lily-of-the-Valley. Miss Sophia Ferguson — the Sophy Fergey of Angelena’s approbation — had established a violent flirtation with Captain Mattyfat, of the Heavysteeds; and old Ferguson, a most respectable J.P., but not at all a “war’s alarm or spear and shield”-ish sort of man — indeed a man with rather a horror of the military than otherwise — had what he called “put his foot upon it.” As, however, there is a difference between scotching and killing, the worthy man had only driven Matty, as they called him, from the house to seek out-door relief; and Angelena, ever anxious to promote sport — on the reciprocity principle, of course — was relieving officer to the couple. Many people can manage poor-law unions better than they can their own houses. Angelena could afford the generous sympathies; for, independently of Mattyfat being one of many, and therefore quite unsuitable for her, Sophy was short and dumpy, and neither in looks, style, manner, nor vivacity, anything of a rival for her.