Christmas Comes but Once A Year
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Luke Limner >> Christmas Comes but Once A Year
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"January 5th, _Saturday_.--Christmas is dead!--Expired with the Juvenile
party--we have economically disposed of the scraps. 'A Merry
Christmas!'--All the _ill luck_ came upon Fridays--we can have no more
this season--altogether, a jolly Christmas, with a jolly friend, who is
to prove himself a _capital_ one to-morrow--owes me L350--bill due
Monday,--says he will _clear off all by then!_ If 'money' is said to be
a 'friend,' what must a _friend_ with _money_ be?--A golden treasure,
doubly dear--a companion that can never be a drag, because too well
off."
Thus closes the Christmas portion of the Brown Diary:--its author, as
customary on Saturday, dyeing his hair, before retiring to rest. But,
somehow, that eventful evening, Brown could not repose in peace; he
abused his best friends in sleep--dreaming the De Camps capable of
decamping, after the bridal breakfast, with the dowry, across the
sea--leaving Jemima and Angelina married vestals,--to make more money
and fresh conquests in _Virginia_ or _Marryland_:--whither old Brown
feels bound to follow, in his night shirt, but is incapacitated, being
tied to the earth by a pigtail springing from the organs of amativeness,
philoprogenitiveness, inhabitiveness, and adhesiveness! So exciting is
Brown's dream, that he fancies the De Camps escaping--now, the banging
door of the Albert fairly awakening the sleeper; who, on attempting to
rise, finds the pillow really a fixture to the back of his head; which
he tears away, in a rage, causing all the pleasing sensations that might
be experienced on the removal of a tail by the roots. Brown rushes
wildly to the window, opening the casement; and, upon looking into the
pitch-dark night, he receives a blow from without, that causes him to
stagger and reel backwards, falling to the floor, with a noise that
makes Mrs. Brown rise in a fright, obtain a light, and severely
reprimand her lord as a drunken fool--capable of any wild fancy!
The naked truth stands thus:--Poor Brown has mistaken a bottle of gum
for hair-dye, and a closet for the casement--bruising his forehead
against the shelf; so, he creeps back to bed--there to lie, moralizing
upon cause and effect!--Thinking, how trifling things, in themselves,
may lead to disastrous consequences--reflecting upon the rival
bottles:--one black--all deceit, the other white and trusty! "Be not
precipitate, nor trust to appearances only, lest you be
deceived!"--a maxim, Brown fears, he cannot apply to the Captain; for,
never did he know less of a man, of whom he ought to have known more.
The 5th of January seemed to Brown as if it would never dawn!--The bump
that took away and restored his senses, or, rather, sobered that
gentleman, feels like an egg placed in the centre of his forehead--he
longs for daylight, to examine it:--daylight, that comes, and reduces
the egg to a walnut-shell!--Poor Brown's hat will not go on, for the
excrescence, so he cannot go to church. At breakfast he recounts his
dream--which is voted fudge by Mamma, stuff by Angelina, and rubbish by
Jemima; for they are in no very good humour after the excitement of last
week. Little Tom is in bed, having broken his fast upon jalap,
administered to counteract the baneful effects of the sweets consumed
yesterday--the youth being full as a sack of sand; and, we think, could
an anatomist have given a section of the different strata of food that
body contained, in the spirit of a geologist, he would have presented a
remarkable series of deposits. But, away with scientific speculations,
to the Browns, who are at breakfast--a meal that has been intruded upon
by John; who has recounted enough of a certain story to put Jemima in
hysterics, and Angelina in a fainting fit--bringing down a hurricane of
abuse upon him--John, the impertinent menial--John, the venomous viper,
that has recoiled upon its benefactor--John, the dark villain, that has
plotted with the unworthy man, Spohf, who, of course, out of mere envy,
mere spite, mere jealousy, would try to overturn that harmony that is
not to be broken so easily--that unity that is not to be severed, no,
not for a hundred Spohfs! "Go--go, sir, to your fiddling
garret-friend--go and blow his hurdigurdy!--Go, sir!--Tell him the
affections of innocent females are not to be played upon like a _base
vile_!--Tell him there are ears to pull, horsewhips to be had, ay, and
noble gentlemen ever ready to lay on in defence of those scandalously
reviled! You may tremble, sir, for menials can be discharged, and have
characters to lose! Sir, I give you warning!--Sir, you may go!--Go,
sir!"
Now, this is the very thing John much wished to do:--he had been
imperceptibly backing, for the last five minutes, towards the door,
fearing to turn tail upon the enemy--the choleric Mr. and Mrs. Brown;
who appeared, in their very fierceness, to counteract each other's
fire--each pulling the other back, seeming to get more and more
ferocious the nearer their victim gained the door,--for, when the baited
John reached it, he turned the handle of the lock behind him, still
facing his antagonists, intending to escape by a side lurch; but, just
at that critical point, there came a knock of great importance at the
outer door, as if the chimney were on fire, or a baby half out of
window:--the enemy fell back--John opened the door, and, lo!--There
discovered an officer of the Police Force, who wanted a word with John
Brown!--John, feeling himself the Brown wanted, retreats into the
kitchen, where he faints away, in a plate-basket, and stops the Dutch
clock.
[Illustration]
* * * * * *
The Police Officer has had his word, or rather, word of words, with Mr.
Brown:--news, said to be important, but of the wildest and most
improbable character--news, appearing to that gentleman beyond all
belief--news, that he will not, can not, put faith in!--Allegations, so
preposterous, that they may be disproved in a moment--"Captain de Camp,
_alias_ Boultoff, &c., &c., and three other persons, names unknown,
now incarcerated in Dover Jail, for the robbery of John Brown, of
Mizzlington"--a mistake--a foul plot--a base fiction!--At least, so
thought the worthy gentleman, who was as ignorant of any wrong done
him as the lunatic that resides in the moon. Had the sea-serpent been
discovered in the back pond, a gold-mine been found in the dust-bin, or
a Sphinx and Centaur been captured in Lincoln's Inn Fields, Mr. Brown
could not have been more astounded!--He knows it to be an imputation
that can be disproved in a twinkling, if Mr. Police Inspector will just
step next door with him; but, alas!--There the fox's tail is left in the
trap--the skirt of the very coat, borrowed of Mr. Brown, a fortnight
since, hangs in the door,--the very door that slammed, when the
affrighted gentleman awoke in a dream, last night.
* * * * * *
The concluding facts of these eventful sixteen days are simply as
follows:--to Mr. Spohf is the issue due--he was bound to spend the
sabbath at Canterbury, with the cathedral and organ; upon the journey
thither, he happened to recognise some fellow-travellers, better known
to him than he was to them. From a slight conversation that transpired,
he learned their destination to be Boulogne, or rather, Dover; so he
stopped at Ashford, telegraphing their persons to Dover, where, upon
arrival, they were provided with lodging free of expense; from that
place news was instantly sent to Mizzlington. Little did Mr. Brown
think, that morning, as he combed out his matted, gummy, locks, that his
friend Captain de Camp had lost _his_, under the cruel shears, in Dover
Jail!
[Illustration]
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* * * * * *
Captain de Camp, as you may suppose, after these lucky _stars_, again
entered upon foreign service; being ordered to New South Wales, for
fourteen years--he sailed in the same transport with his two sons. Lady
Lucretia stayed at home, leading a very retired life--she resided in a
vast mansion at the "West-end," a castle at Millbank.
Mr. Spohf, of course, taking advantage of his rival's absence, wins upon
Miss Jemima Brown--in the end, marrying her, to live happy ever
afterwards?--No, such was not the case! Mr. Spohf espoused Miss Cecilia
Lark, who blessed him with a large family and everything else that woman
can. Spohf's means have increased, annually, with his family:--all are
musical, and the eldest girl is to be an "English Lark," that will
surpass the "Swedish Nightingale," or any other foreign bird--the
continentalists attribute it to the southern origin of her papa; and,
accordingly, claim Cecilia Spohf as their own.
The Misses Brown still remain open to offers, and are reported to be
well _worth_ having. Mr. John Brown, Junr., is married to Miss Gay;
a better _match_ there could not be--they both pull one way; but,
unfortunately the wrong one--rumour says they are extravagant. Tom is at
Westminster School; he has not distinguished himself in any particular
study, unless it be boating:--they say he would have won in the last
race had he not broken his scull--a mishap that sadly terrified Mrs.
Brown; for the note, intimating the catastrophe, said nothing about the
_sculls_ being more wooden than her son's. Mr. and Mrs. Brown are really
very happy!--Victoria and Albert are now united--the party-wall is
removed. Mr. B. has retired from business, not even discounting
bills:--he does not go to the city now; or at least if he does, it is
behind Mr. Strap, who makes an important coachman, having filled out
amazingly--may be, thinking, "he who drives fat cattle should himself be
fat;" for the bays are too corpulent to kick, and take the journeys at
their own pace. John--John Brown, "_private_," now keeps a public
house--"the Brown Arms," "the Rampant Locomotive," "Noted Brown Stout
House," at the corner of Brown Terrace:--it was a beer-shop when John
first took it, but he has since obtained a _licence_, and married Mary,
the house-maid.
Mr. Brown is notorious for keeping up the festive Christmas season!--He
now makes it a rule to invite only those he loves or respects--not
because they are well-to-do in this world, but because he likes or
admires them;--seeming fully assured of Time's progress, and that--
CHRISTMAS COMES BUT ONCE A YEAR!
The End.
The Cuts, inserted in the text, are
engraved by the Brothers DALZIEL;
the Plates (from zinc) printed
by LEIGHTONS & TAYLOR;
and the Letter-press by
BENTLEYS & FLEY,
Bangor House,
Shoe Lane.
[Decoration]
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Notes and Errata:
De Camp : de Camp
_variation as in original_
Pue-packer at St. Stiff's
_spelling "pue" used consistently_
"December 21st, Friday"
_the days of the week fit the year 1850_
cramped caligraphy
_spelling unchanged_
under the misletoe
_spelling unchanged_
a list of member's present
_apostrophe in original_
[Picture caption]
'SPECT NEXT THEY'L 'BOLISH THE BISHOPS.
_spelling "THEY'L" unchanged_
thinks he always / thought he thought the De Camps scamps
_text unchanged_
causing Mrs. Brown to desert her partner in / _l'ete_
_text unchanged, but illustration reads "l'ete"_
assuming the shape of elongated O's
_capital "O" elongated in print_
and ma'says I shall / have "Rule Britannia,"
_spacing unchanged_
Hop o'my Thumb Polka
_spacing unchanged_
[Picture caption]
"THE HYPOCRIPPLE! YOU DON'T SAY SO."
"YES, I PREDIGATE HIM TO BE AN HUMBUG."
_text reads "DO'NT" ("don't" appears elsewhere in text)_
_second-line open quotation mark missing_
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