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.Chops's eyes was more fixed in that Ed of his than I thought good for him.There was three of 'em (in company,I mean),and Iknowed the third well.When last met,he had on a white Roman shirt,and a bishop's 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:"Gentlemen,this is a old friend of former days:"and Normandy looked at me through a eye-glass,and said,"Magsman,glad to see you!"--which I'll take my oath he wasn't.Mr.Chops,to git him convenient to the table,had his chair on a throne (much of the form of George the Fourth's 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-Day--gorgeous!--And 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 'em all together (to say I had done it),and then tried two of 'em as half-and-half,and then t'other 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,"Mr.
Chops,the best of friends must part,I thank you for the wariety of foreign drains you have stood so 'ansome,I looks towards you in red wine,and I takes my leave."Mr.Chops replied,"If you'll just hitch me out of this over your right arm,Magsman,and carry me down-stairs,I'll see you out."I said I couldn't think of such a thing,but he would have it,so I lifted him off his throne.He smelt strong of Maideary,and I couldn't 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:
"I ain't 'appy,Magsman."
"What's on your mind,Mr.Chops?"
"They don't use me well.They an't grateful to me.They puts me on the mantel-piece when I won't have in more Champagne-wine,and they locks me in the sideboard when I won't give up my property.""Get rid of 'em,Mr.Chops."
"I can't.We're in Society together,and what would Society say?""Come out of Society!"says I.
"I can't.You don't know what you're talking about.When you have once gone into Society,you mustn't come out of it.""Then if you'll excuse the freedom,Mr.Chops,"were my remark,shaking my head grave,"I think it's a pity you ever went in."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,"You're a good fellow,but you don't understand.Good-night,go along.Magsman,the little man will now walk three times round the Cairawan,and retire behind the curtain."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.They'd have been much too steep for him,if he had been sober;but he wouldn't be helped.
It warn't long after that,that I read in the newspaper of Mr.
Chops's being presented at court.It was printed,"It will be recollected"--and I've noticed in my life,that it is sure to be printed that it WILL be recollected,whenever it won't--"that Mr.
Chops is the individual of small stature,whose brilliant success in the last State Lottery attracted so much attention."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 inquiries--though not the honour of bein acquainted--and I run Magsman's Amusements in it thirteen months--sometimes 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 drawed--except on paper),and I heard a kickin at the street door."Halloa!"I says to the young man,"what's up!"He rubs his eyebrows with his toes,and he says,"Ican't imagine,Mr.Magsman"--which 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 Iturned round quick,because some creetur run between my legs into the passage.There was Mr.Chops!
"Magsman,"he says,"take me,on the old terms,and you've got me;if it's done,say done!"
