Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 1, October 2, 1841 by Various
page 22 of 62 (35%)
page 22 of 62 (35%)
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were plenty. Alas! prudence is seldom co-mate with youth and inexperience.
The golden dream was soon to end--end even with the yellow dross that gave it birth. Fallacious hopes of coming "posts," averted for a time my coming wretchedness--three weeks, and not a line! The landlord suffered from an intermitting affection, characteristic of the "stiff-necked generation;"--he bowed to others--galvanism could not have procured the tithe of a salaam for me. His till was afflicted with a sort of sinking-fundishness. I was the contractor of "the small bill," whose exact amount would enable him to meet a "heavy payment;" my very garments were "tabooed" from all earth's decencies; splashes seemed to have taken a lease of the bottoms of my trousers. My boots, once objects of the tenderest care of their unworthy namesake, seemed conscious of the change, and drooped in untreed wretchedness, desponding at the wretched wrinkles now ruffling the once smooth calf! My coat no more appeared to catch the dust; as if under the influence of some invisible charm, its white-washed elbows never struck upon the sight of the else all-seeing boots; spider never rushed from his cell with the post-haste speed with which he issued from his dark recess, to pick the slightest cobweb that ever harnessed Queen Mab's team, from _other_ coats; a gnat, a wandering hair left its location, swept by the angry brush from the broad-cloth of those who paid their bills--as far as I was concerned--all were inoculated with this strange blindness. It was an overwhelming ophthalmia! The chambermaid, through its fatality, never discovered that my jugs were empty, my bottle clothed with slimy green, my soap-dish left untenanted. A day before this time had been sufficient service for my hand-towel; now a week seemed to render it less fit to taste the rubs of hands and soap. Dust lost its vice, and lay unheeded in the crammed corner of my luckless room. READER.--I feel for you. |
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