CHAPTER II--HOW THE PARLOURS ADDED A FEW WORDS
I have the honour of presenting myself by the name of Jackman. I
esteem it a proud privilege to go down to posterity through the
instrumentality of the most remarkable boy that ever lived,--by the
name of JEMMY JACKMAN LIRRIPER,--and of my most worthy and most
highly respected friend, Mrs. Emma Lirriper, of Eighty-one, Norfolk
Street, Strand, in the County of Middlesex, in the United Kingdom of
Great Britain and Ireland.
It is not for me to express the rapture with which we received that
dear and eminently remarkable boy, on the occurrence of his first
Christmas holidays. Suffice it to observe that when he came flying
into the house with two splendid prizes (Arithmetic, and Exemplary
Conduct), Mrs. Lirriper and myself embraced with emotion, and
instantly took him to the Play, where we were all three admirably
entertained.
Nor is it to render homage to the virtues of the best of her good
and honoured sex--whom, in deference to her unassuming worth, I will
only here designate by the initials E. L.--that I add this record to
the bundle of papers with which our, in a most distinguished degree,
remarkable boy has expressed himself delighted, before re-consigning
the same to the left-hand glass closet of Mrs. Lirriper's little
bookcase.
Neither is it to obtrude the name of the old original superannuated
obscure Jemmy Jackman, once (to his degradation) of Wozenham's, long
(to his elevation) of Lirriper's. If I could be consciously guilty
of that piece of bad taste, it would indeed be a work of
supererogation, now that the name is borne by JEMMY JACKMAN
LIRRIPER.
No, I take up my humble pen to register a little record of our
strikingly remarkable boy, which my poor capacity regards as
presenting a pleasant little picture of the dear boy's mind. The
picture may be interesting to himself when he is a man.
Our first reunited Christmas-day was the most delightful one we have
ever passed together. Jemmy was never silent for five minutes,
except in church-time. He talked as we sat by the fire, he talked
when we were out walking, he talked as we sat by the fire again, he
talked incessantly at dinner, though he made a dinner almost as
remarkable as himself. It was the spring of happiness in his fresh
young heart flowing and flowing, and it fertilised (if I may be
allowed so bold a figure) my much-esteemed friend, and J. J. the
present writer.
There were only we three. We dined in my esteemed friend's little
room, and our entertainment was perfect. But everything in the
establishment is, in neatness, order, and comfort, always perfect.
After dinner our boy slipped away to his old stool at my esteemed
friend's knee, and there, with his hot chestnuts and his glass of
brown sherry (really, a most excellent wine!) on a chair for a
table, his face outshone the apples in the dish.
We talked of these jottings of mine, which Jemmy had read through
and through by that time; and so it came about that my esteemed
friend remarked, as she sat smoothing Jemmy's curls:
"And as you belong to the house too, Jemmy,--and so much more than
the Lodgers, having been born in it,--why, your story ought to be
added to the rest, I think, one of these days."
Jemmy's eyes sparkled at this, and he said, "So I think, Gran."
Then he sat looking at the fire, and then he began to laugh in a
sort of confidence with the fire, and then he said, folding his arms
across my esteemed friend's lap, and raising his bright face to
hers. "Would you like to hear a boy's story, Gran?"
"Of all things," replied my esteemed friend.
"Would you, godfather?"
"Of all things," I too replied.
"Well, then," said Jemmy, "I'll tell you one."
Here our indisputably remarkable boy gave himself a hug, and laughed
again, musically, at the idea of his coming out in that new line.
Then he once more took the fire into the same sort of confidence as
before, and began:
"Once upon a time, When pigs drank wine, And monkeys chewed
tobaccer, 'Twas neither in your time nor mine, But that's no macker-
-"
"Bless the child!" cried my esteemed friend, "what's amiss with his
brain?"
"It's poetry, Gran," returned Jemmy, shouting with laughter. "We
always begin stories that way at school."
"Gave me quite a turn, Major," said my esteemed friend, fanning
herself with a plate. "Thought he was light-headed!"
"In those remarkable times, Gran and godfather, there was once a
boy,--not me, you know."
"No, no," says my respected friend, "not you. Not him, Major, you
understand?"
"No, no," says I.
"And he went to school in Rutlandshire--"
"Why not Lincolnshire?" says my respected friend.
"Why not, you dear old Gran? Because I go to school in
Lincolnshire, don't I?"
"Ah, to be sure!" says my respected friend. "And it's not Jemmy,
you understand, Major?"
"No, no," says I.
"Well!" our boy proceeded, hugging himself comfortably, and laughing
merrily (again in confidence with the fire), before he again looked
up in Mrs. Lirriper's face, "and so he was tremendously in love with
his schoolmaster's daughter, and she was the most beautiful creature
that ever was seen, and she had brown eyes, and she had brown hair
all curling beautifully, and she had a delicious voice, and she was
delicious altogether, and her name was Seraphina."
"What's the name of YOUR schoolmaster's daughter, Jemmy?" asks my
respected friend.
"Polly!" replied Jemmy, pointing his forefinger at her. "There now!
Caught you! Ha, ha, ha!"
When he and my respected friend had had a laugh and a hug together,
our admittedly remarkable boy resumed with a great relish:
"Well! And so he loved her. And so he thought about her, and
dreamed about her, and made her presents of oranges and nuts, and
would have made her presents of pearls and diamonds if he could have
afforded it out of his pocket-money, but he couldn't. And so her
father--O, he WAS a Tartar! Keeping the boys up to the mark,
holding examinations once a month, lecturing upon all sorts of
subjects at all sorts of times, and knowing everything in the world
out of book. And so this boy--"
"Had he any name?" asks my respected friend.
"No, he hadn't, Gran. Ha, ha! There now! Caught you again!"
After this, they had another laugh and another hug, and then our boy
went on.
"Well! And so this boy, he had a friend about as old as himself at
the same school, and his name (for He HAD a name, as it happened)
was--let me remember--was Bobbo."
"Not Bob," says my respected friend.
"Of course not," says Jemmy. "What made you think it was, Gran?
Well! And so this friend was the cleverest and bravest and best-
looking and most generous of all the friends that ever were, and so
he was in love with Seraphina's sister, and so Seraphina's sister
was in love with him, and so they all grew up."
"Bless us!" says my respected friend. "They were very sudden about
it."
"So they all grew up," our boy repeated, laughing heartily, "and
Bobbo and this boy went away together on horseback to seek their
fortunes, and they partly got their horses by favour, and partly in
a bargain; that is to say, they had saved up between them seven and
fourpence, and the two horses, being Arabs, were worth more, only
the man said he would take that, to favour them. Well! And so they
made their fortunes and came prancing back to the school, with their
pockets full of gold, enough to last for ever. And so they rang at
the parents' and visitors' bell (not the back gate), and when the
bell was answered they proclaimed 'The same as if it was scarlet
fever! Every boy goes home for an indefinite period!' And then
there was great hurrahing, and then they kissed Seraphina and her
sister,--each his own love, and not the other's on any account,--and
then they ordered the Tartar into instant confinement."
"Poor man!" said my respected friend.
"Into instant confinement, Gran," repeated Jemmy, trying to look
severe and roaring with laughter; "and he was to have nothing to eat
but the boys' dinners, and was to drink half a cask of their beer
every day. And so then the preparations were made for the two
weddings, and there were hampers, and potted things, and sweet
things, and nuts, and postage-stamps, and all manner of things. And
so they were so jolly, that they let the Tartar out, and he was
jolly too."
"I am glad they let him out," says my respected friend, "because he
had only done his duty."
"O, but hadn't he overdone it, though!" cried Jemmy. "Well! And so
then this boy mounted his horse, with his bride in his arms, and
cantered away, and cantered on and on till he came to a certain
place where he had a certain Gran and a certain godfather,--not you
two, you know."
"No, no," we both said.
"And there he was received with great rejoicings, and he filled the
cupboard and the bookcase with gold, and he showered it out on his
Gran and his godfather because they were the two kindest and dearest
people that ever lived in this world. And so while they were
sitting up to their knees in gold, a knocking was heard at the
street door, and who should it be but Bobbo, also on horseback with
his bride in his arms, and what had he come to say but that he would
take (at double rent) all the Lodgings for ever, that were not
wanted by this a boy and this Gran and this godfather, and that they
would all live together, and all be happy! And so they were, and so
it never ended!"
"And was there no quarrelling?" asked my respected friend, as Jemmy
sat upon her lap and hugged her.
"No! Nobody ever quarrelled."
"And did the money never melt away?"
"No! Nobody could ever spend it all."
"And did none of them ever grow older?"
"No! Nobody ever grew older after that."
"And did none of them ever die?"
"O, no, no, no, Gran!" exclaimed our dear boy, laying his cheek upon
her breast, and drawing her closer to him. "Nobody ever died."
"Ah, Major, Major!" says my respected friend, smiling benignly upon
me, "this beats our stories. Let us end with the Boy's story,
Major, for the Boy's story is the best that is ever told!"
In submission to which request on the part of the best of women, I
have here noted it down as faithfully as my best abilities, coupled
with my best intentions, would admit, subscribing it with my name,
J. JACKMAN.
THE PARLOURS.
MRS. LIRRIPER'S LODGINGS.
