“Now, sir, what do you suppose would be the effect of that entrancing melody upon the soul of that young and aspiring Lincolnshire Baronet? Would he not, sir, feel that he was loved for his own sake, and that he must be a brute indeed, if, after having excited so maddening a passion in the virgin heart of a young, ingenuous girl, he was to refuse to crown her innocent flame? Every pupil who leaves Mountchauncey House is instructed how to play out a final card of this suit. A little extra bandoline gives a damp and sickly appearance to the hair—nothing is simpler than to bring the rest of the physiognomy into harmony with the once glossy, but now damp and faded tresses. When the gentleman is about to call upon his last visit, let the door be opened before he knocks—let the young lady be found in a darkened room, singing to herself in a disconsolate way some melancholy song. That expedient has never been known to fail, sir. A gentleman who owned a large river-frontage at Melbourne, and who had spent half his life beating bullocks with a big whip, was brought down upon his knees and to a sense of his situation by a little simple melody. He implored for forgiveness, and he was forgiven. He escaped from all the anxieties of life shortly afterwards, leaving his disconsolate widow his universal legatee and sole executrix.”
“Did he though, poor man!” said Mr. Brown. “But I presume, madam, you do not confine your pupils to the arts of poetry and music; you give muscle to their souls by enforcing upon them the study of the severer sciences?”
“Quite right, Mr. Brown, quite right. Though how a gentleman made the discovery! Well, well. You are quite right; dancing is the great corrective and tonic of the mind. You never yet heard of a professional dancer marring her fortune by the ill-timed indulgence of sentiment. Dancing, in fact, hardens the a-hems and the heart.”
“But, madam, just in the same way that it develops the a-hems, may it not also develop the heart?”
“No, no; certainly not. The a-hems are developed and hardened—the heart is contracted and hardened. There is the difference. Then at Mountchauncey House we practise the science of arithmetic in a very complete manner, and the young ladies are carefully instructed in the relative values of securities.
“I think these are the chief points which occupy our attention; and I can only assure you, sir, that the excellence of the Mountchauncey system is proved by the results. There is not an instance of a pupil from this establishment who has married otherwise than well.”
“That is all, madam, that I desired to know; and now nothing remains but that I should make a few inquiries of a more common-place, but still indispensable, nature.”
“You allude, sir, to commercial considerations? Those lie in the department of my sister, Miss Belinda Mountchauncey, to whom I will now do myself the honour of presenting you.”
With these words Miss H. M. rose; Mr. Brown bowed, and took his leave of the young ladies.
HAPPY JONES.
When Mr. Brown returned to his hotel from Mountchauncey House, he found a telegram conceived in these terms:
Knocker to Brown.
London—Helmston.
Happy Jones—communication—twins—come off at once. Be here to-day by 3.30 p.m. train. Immediate.
The telegram evidently required his instant presence in London—but where was Mr. Meek? When last seen, he was observed to be riding a tall chesnut horse in the direction of Putridcanonbury with five ladies—he the only gentleman of the party. He was riding in front between two ladies—three ladies behind constituted the rear guard. What was to be done? There was only half-an-hour until the departure of the train, and here was poor Meek cantering away towards destruction—surrounded by his natural enemies, and rather liking it than not. With the instant decision of a man of superior intellect, Mr. Brown determined that either Mr. Meek would return to the hotel, or he would not. He resolved to provide against either contingency. He called for pen, ink, and paper,—directed Boots to pack up his bag, and summon to the door the swiftest fly in Helmston—told the waiter to bring him his bill, and a glass of draught Bitter Ale, and set himself down to carry out the literary portion of his scheme. First, he would deal with the alternative that Mr. Meek would return to the hotel to dine off the joint at 5.30, as arranged. Here was the result:
The Britannia, Wednesday, 2.55 p.m.
Dear Meek,—I am summoned up to town by our mutual friend, Knocker, on business connected with a certain Mrs. Jones, which will not, as it seems, admit of any delay. I shall be down to-morrow by early train, but, at any rate, you will hear of me by telegraph. Meanwhile—rash and unguarded man!—what are you about? You are on the verge of a precipice. Beware! I have heard of the manner in which you are employing your morning. Do not put me off with vain pretexts to the effect that you are merely engaged in philosophic investigation. Meek! it is not so, and you know it! Dalilah was too much for Samson—a man of considerable energy. You are not a man of any energy at all—what can one Meek do against five Dalilahs? Tremble, and fly!
Here are my final directions. On receipt of this you will partake of a heavy dinner with as much Guinness’s Stout, and as little wine as may be. You will then betake yourself to the smoking-room of the Britannia, and remain there until 11.30 p.m. You will then be conducted by Boots—he is a man upon whom I can place reliance—to your bedchamber. At 7.45 a.m. Boots will call you—see you tubbed, shaved, dressed, and breakfasted. At 9 a.m. he will deposit you in a lively yawl—The Bounding Brothers, which will at once put out to sea, with, directions to lie off and on Helmston, until