A Pair of Madcaps. A story of impulse, etc

Front matter

ROUND TABLE BOJKS. — ONE SHILLING. E P P S S ( COMFORTING. ) COCOA. DR. J. COLLIS BROWNE'S CHLORODYNE ■ THE GREAT SPECIFIC FOR *:^^^^^^_CHQLERA, DIARRHŒA, DYSENTERY. GENERAL BOARD of HEALTH J London, REPORT that it ACTS as a| CHARM one dose generally sufficient. Dr. GIBBON, Army Medical Staff, Cal-, cutta, states: "2 DOSES COMPLETE-1 LY CURED ME of DIARRHŒA." From Symes & Co., Pharmaceutical Chemists, Simla. Jan. 5, 1880. To J. T. Davenport, London. Dear Sir,— We congratulate you upon, the widespread reputation this justlyesteemed medicine has earned for itself all over the East. As a remedy. of general utility, we much question' whether a better is imported, and we] shall be glad to hear of its finding a place ineveryAnglo-Indianhome. The other brands, we are happy to say, are now relegated to the native bazaars,! and, j udging from their sale, we fancy, their sojourn there will be but evanescent.

We could multiply instances ad, infinitum of the extraordinarv efficacy, of DR. COLLIS BROWNE'S, CHLORODYNE in Diarrhœa and1 Dysentery, Spas ms.Cr amps, Neuralgia the Vomiting of Pregnancy, and as a general sedative, that have occurred' under our personal observation during! many years. In Choleraic Diarrhœa, and even in the more terrible formsl of Cholera itself, we have witnessed; itB surprisingly controlling power.. We have never used any other form of this medicine than Collis Browne's, from a firm conviction that it is decidedly the best, and also from a sense of duty we owe to the profession and the public, as we are of opinion that the substitution of any other than Collis Browne's is a deliberate breach of faith on the part of the chemist to prescriber and patient alike.— We are, Sir, faithfully yours, SYMES & CO., Members of the Pharm.

Society of Great Britain, Bis Excellency the Viceroy's Chemists. DR. J. OOLLIS BROWNE'S CHLORODTNE is the TRUE PALLIATIVE in NEURALGIA, GOUT, CANCER, TOOTHACHE, RHEUMATI S M . DR. J. COLLIS BROWNE'S CHLORODYNE is a liquid medicine which assuages PAIN of EVERY KIND, affords a calm, refreshing sleep WITHOUT HEAD- ACHE, and INVIGORATES the nervous system when exhausted. DR. J\ COLLIS BROWNE'S CHLORODYNE rapidly cuts short all attacks of EPILEPSY, SPASMS, COLIC, PALPITATION. HYSTERIA. IMPORTANT CAUTION.-The IMMENSE SALE of this REMEDY has given rise to many UNSCRUPU- LOUS IMITATIONS. Be careful to observe Trade Mark. Of all Chemists. Is. l£d., 2s. 9d., and 4s. 6d. Sole Manufacturer, r.T.DAVENPORT,33G-t.RusseU St.,W.O. COUGHS, \-t \ 81HMA, J\. TJRONCHITIS. ] B. J. COLLIS BROWNE'S CHLORODYNE. - Dr. J. C.i* BEOWHE (late Army Medical Staff)!

Preface

. " Idle Reader, without an oath thou mayest believe that I wish this book, as the child of my understanding, were the most beautiful, sprightly, and discreet production ever con ceived." This sentence prefaces a Romance which has charmed the world for three centuries, and is read to-day in every country by nations of every language with a delight and interest which can never die. Cervantes, the Cardinal's page, the maimed sailor, the captured soldier, the Algerine slave, and the starving author, wrote these words in the jail whence he sent forth his im mortal history — words which may be aptly quoted by each and all who venture to tread the path of fiction. He describes himself as at his wits' end for a Preface, sitting " ruminating on the subject, with the paper before me, the quill behind my ear, my elbow fixed on the table, and my cheek leaning on my hand."

And here begins, and alas ! ends, all resemblance between the author of " Don Quixote " and Ernest Warren. WHAT IS THIS DISEASE THAT IS COMING UPON US? LIKE a thief at night, it steals in upon us unawares. Many persons have pains about the chest and sides, and sometimes in the back. They feel dull and sleepy; the mouth has a bad taste, especially in the morning. A sort of sticky slime collects about the teeth. The appetite is poor. There is a feeling like a heavy load on the stomach ; sometimes a faint all-gone sensation at the pit of the stomach, which food does not satisfy. The eyes are sunken, the hands and feet become cold and feel clammy. After a while a cough sets in, at first dry, but after a few months it is attended with a greenish coloured expectoration. The afflicted one feels tired all the while, and sleep does not seem to afford any rest.

After a time he becomes nervous, irritable, and gloomy, and has evil forebodings. There isa giddiness, a sort of whirling sensation in the head when rising up suddenly. The bowels become costive; the skin is dry and hot at times; the blood be comes thick and stagnant ; the whites of the eyes become tinged with yellow ; the urine is scanty and high-coloured, depositing a sediment after standing. There is frequently a spitting up of the food, sometimes with a sour taste, and sometimes with a sweetish taste ; this is frequently attended with palpitation of the heart ; the vision becomes impaired, with spots before the eyes ; there is a feeling ot great prostration and weakness. All of these symptoms are in turn present. It is thought that nearly one-third of our population has this disease in some of its varied forms.

It has been found that medical men have mistaken the nature of this disease. Some have treated it for liver complaint, others for kidney disease, &c, &c , but none of the various kinds of treatment have been attended with success, because the remedy should be such as to act harmoniously upon each one of these organs, and upon the stomich as well ; for in Dyspepsia (for this is really what the disease is) all of these organs partake of this disease, and require a remedy that will act upon all at the same time. Segel's Curative Syrup acts like a charm in this class of complaints, giving almost immediate relief. The following letters from chemists of standing in the community where they live show in whit estimation the article is held. Thomas Dale, Upperbridge, Holmfirtb :— "Your Curative Syrup sells wonderfully well, and gives every satisfaction."

W. Wilkinson, Rushden, Higham Ferrers: — "I find increased demand for large size, which shows it finds favour with the people." Thomas Miller, Wednessield : — "Your medicines have given great satisfaction in this district, and many of my customers speak highly of Mother Seigel's Syrup." J. M. Clennell, 52 Derby Street, Newcastle : — " I know of instances where it has not merely relieved, but actually cured after using it two or three months; but testimonials are, I believe, often withheld from a false delicacy of allowing the names to be made public." George Drury, Southwell . — "Though I have been a patent medicine seller now over thirty years, yet I never knew such a run on any medicine before as I have had on yours, and many persons have told me of the benefit they have derived from it.

My brother in Lincoln says the same. The sale is wonderful. " B. W. Rodlston, 39 Aire Street, Goole :— "The medicine, it sells itself. All we have to do is to make it known, and it makes its own way. " P. S. Ballard, Wootton Bassett : — " I have met with some really astonishing cures performed by Seigel's Syrup, and I recommend it to all of my customers." G, H. White, 39 Commercial Street, Mountain Ash: — "I can personally testify to the merits of your medicines." W. S. Glass, Friockheim : — "It is about the only genuine patent medicine in the market." James Fisher Edisbdry, M.P.S., 3 High Street, Wrexham :— " I have recom mended Seigel's Syrup, as my personal and relative experiences of its merits are indispu table." W. H. Hewett, West Cowes, I.W. :— "Your medicine I have a large sale for— a sale which most certainly does not decrease now that the novelty is wearing off, which speaks well for its real merits."

Wm. Flower, Beccles : — "It is not my habit to recommend any patent medicine to my customers in individual cases, but always have a good word to say for Mother Seigel when my opinion is asked. " Samuel Jones, Holywell :— " It has done wonders in this neighbourhood." "placid contentment." A PAIR OF MADCAPS.

Chapter I

A STRAY LAMB. HE came tripping across the pavement from the glove-shop, with a neat little parcel under his arm. His whole face— and there was a great deal of it — glowed with a smug complacency ; his whole body — and there was a monstrous bulk of it — oscillated at each step he took ; his lively grey eyes still sparkled with the knowing twinkle which had accompanied his " Good day ! " to the shop girl; his speckless broadcloth fitted over his rotundities without a crease, and from top to toe he was the perfect realization of placid contentment. Drawn up at the kerb was a roomy brougham, neat and orderly in its exterior, like its owner ; comfortable, soft, and luxurious inter nally, still after the same model. The horses were round, sleepy, comfortable-looking ; the coachman might have been one of the horses in a biped state of existence.

" Jacob," said the gentleman in a round full whisper, " Jacob, you can drop me at the end of Spangle Row, and then drive home — and — ahem ! — Jacob, you can send in word to your mistress that I — er — am detained in the City on important business." Jacob, with his head slightly cocked on one side like a sparrow, A Pair of Jladcaps. 14 listened respectfully, and then with a slight internal rumble bearing a faint resemblance to a chuckle, jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards the interior of the brougham. "She's inside!" said the coachman with demure stolidity. " Bless my heart ! Who the — what the — ahem ! " cried the stout gentleman, almost startled out of his propriety. Cautiously, and almost as if expecting something might jump out upon him, he peered into the comfortably-cushioned recesses of his carriage, where, easily reclining, sat a young lady plainly but elegantly dressed, and possessed of far more than the ordinary share of personal charms.

He raised his hat, with a puzzled look upon his face. She grace fully inclined her head. " I — er — I don't think — I — er — I have the pleasure," he stam mered. " I — oh, yes — to be sure — how very stupid of me! — I believe I had the honour of meeting you at — at — at — bless my heart! I shall forget my own name next — ah, to be sure, at " " Pray do not attempt to tax your memory," answered the girl, with a bewitching smile, " you have never seen me before. I am a stranger to you — indeed, I may say to London." "Oh — then — ahem ! — may I ask " It certainly was a case in which it was requisite to ask something, if not do something. The young lady had possession of the interior of the brougham, and was leaning slightly forward, resting her arm upon the door and virtually excluding the rightful owner, who stood upon the pavement with a sorely troubled expression of countenance.

The girl — for she was no more than a girl — showed no inclination to leave the carriage ; and he, the very model of stout middle-aged pink-and-white propriety, could hardly create a scandal in Oxford Street by forcibly removing her. " I hope I have not taken an unwarrantable liberty ? " she said, and her voice was charmingly musical. " I beg you will excuse me — but — but you are standing in the street — won't you come in ? " And as she spoke she moved away from the door, graciously giving the owner the opportunity of entering his own carriage. " Thank you," he replied, with a slight hesitation ; " but wouldn't it be better if you — you came out ? " He coloured all over his voluminous face as he said the words, for he did not wish to appear rude. But the lady took no offence, and continued, " Oh, no, we can talk so much more comfortably in here, and if you will get in, and tell your man to drive slowly, I will tell you all about it as wo go along."

And she patted her skirts close to make room for his some what extra bulk, as, not without doubt, he slowly opened the carriage door and took his seat by her side. " You see," she began immediately, with great volubility, " I had no intention of getting into the brougham until I had spoken to you ; but I was so pestered by one of those silly London fops, who would stare and follow me about, that, to put an end to his attentions, I told your coachman I was waiting for his master, jumped in, and here I am." " So I see ! " said thc stout gentleman ; " but upon my life I don't 7? ray L. 15 quite understand why you wanted to speak to me, nor what you want me to do, now you have spoken to me." "Well, I'm in a mess ; but that's a long story, I '11 tell you all about that presently. I am here in London, without friends, and with nowhere to go to, so I thought I would look out for some nice, kind, benevolent old man who would take me home to his wife and " " Bless my heart, I can't do that !

" " Oh, yes, you can. Directly I saw you I said to myself, 'This is the nice old gentleman who will help me out of my scrape, and his wife '" " But how did you know I was married ? " " Oh ! you looked as if you must be. Besides, I watched you into that shop and saw you buy a box of ladies' gloves." • The pink face became red as the stout gentleman struggled to stow away the glove-box in his coat-tail pocket. "Indeed — indeed, my — my dear — I am very sorry for your troubles, but " " Oh, they are not much of troubles ! " she interrupted, with a laugh ; " but I left home this morning to go on a visit to an old aunt in Suffolk — such a dingy sour old aunt," and she shrugged her shoulders — " and it was the first time I had ever been suffered to go anywhere by myself ; and an idea came into my head that I had never seen London, and a schoolfellow of mine — such a dear girl — who was married last year, had often asked me to come and see her.

So it occurred to me all of a sudden that I would go to London just for the one day, and I got a cab and drove to her house, to find she had been staying away for a week, and was not coming home till to-morrow afternoon. So then I went walking through the streets, and looking in at the shop windows, and reached the station in time for the afternoon train, to find my pocket had been picked, and my money, my railway ticket, my check for my luggage — everything — had been stolen. Of course it was no good weeping and wrailing all over the station, was it ? " " What did you do ? " asked the old gentleman, interested in his companion's misadventures. For he was a man of the world, and able to detect the true ring in her voice, and believed her story. "Just what I told you. I came back to the busy part of town to look out for some kind harmless old gentleman to whom I could tell my troubles ; and directly I saw you I said to myself, * There is an old man to whom no girl need be afraid of speaking' — you do look so harmless, you know," she added, confidentially.

" Ahem ! " said the old gentleman, not altogether pleased. And presently he added, " I wonder you did not rather address yourself to one of your own sex." "Oh, no ! " she replied quickly, "women are so much more suspicious than men, you know." " Do you know you have done a very mad thing ? " asked the stout gentleman gravely. " How did you expect any one to believe your story?" "Why shouldn't they? I knew I had only to say that I was Eunice Vidal, daughter of Sir Geoffrey Vidal of Mangoldshire, and nobody would doubt my word." " Sir Geoffrey Vidal ? " repeated the stout gentleman. "Yes, you must have heard of him. Every one knows him. He stood for the county last election, in the Conservative interest, but was defeated by some horrid vulgar Radical man." " Mr. Thomas Toms, was it not ? " " Yes, some ugly name like that."

" Miss Vidal, my name happens to be Thomas Toms, and I have the honour to represent East Mangoldshire in the House of Com mons." " Oh, dear ! I'mso sorry." " Pray make no apology, my dear young lady, you spoke in ignorance." " Oh ! I didn't mean that at all. I meant that I was sorry I had — that is to say, papa will be so angry that I should have — but — but, you know, you are not half so disagreeable as I should have ex pected." " At any rate," said Mr. Toms, wincing, " by telling me your name you have made a difficult matter very easy. I shall be proud if you will accompany me to my house, where Mrs. Toms will be as pleased to see you as — as I am." " Thanks," replied Eunice Vidal, " if you can put me up for to night it will be a real kindness, and in the morning I will hunt up my friend again."

" There is no occasion for you to do that, unless you wish it. My purse is at your command, and — and — hullo, what 's the matter ? " The brougham had pulled up at a street corner, and the girl, looking curiously from the window, cried, " Oh, what a funny place ! And what funny people ! Spangle Row ! What a funny name ! This is not where you live, Mr. Toms ? " " No, no, certainly not ; not on any account. I — I have never — never been here before. The stupid man has lost his way. Hi, you sir!" and he put his head from out the carriage window. "Jacob, what do you mean by coming here ? Home, sir, home — Great Decorum Street." Then, as the carriage turned and moved off in another direction, Mr. Toms leant back amongst the cushions with a great sigh of relief. " I fear you will have but a dull evening," he said ; " there will be no one but Mrs. Toms and myself, except my son."

" Oh ! you 've got a son ? What fun ! " " Yes. Tom is a very good lad." " Oh ! and he 's called Tom ? How nice ! Named after his father. What is he like ? Is he like — like you ? " " He 's — well, he is not so stout." " Oh, I hope not ! And he is very good you say ? Not too good, is he ? I shan't like him if he 's too good." "Here we are, Miss Vidal," cried Mr. Toms, as the brougham stopped, "and in a few minutes you shall judge for yourself. I think perhaps you might draw him out a little, he 's — he 's not what / was at his age." Such a Good Lad. 17 As the door opened he assisted her to alight, and while they crossed the pavement he took the opportunity to whisper, " I think if you could conveniently manage to avoid mentioning that you saw me purchase that box of gloves, it would be as well, if you don't mind.

There are reasons." Eunice looked at him with roguish laughing eyes. " I suppose you are afraid they won't fit Mrs. Toms ? " she said, as they entered the house.

Chapter II. Such

A GOOD LAD. HPHE dinner party was destined to be even smaller than Mr. -*- Toms had anticipated. Mrs. Toms had a bad headache, and had gone to lie down, but sent a message that she should be most happy to make Miss Vidal's acquaintance later, when she hoped to come downstairs. Meanwhile the maid con ducted her to a spare room, where she made such changes in her toilet as the circumstances permitted. On reaching the drawing-room, she found the two Toms, pere et Jits, waiting for her, and was duly introduced to the younger representative of the family name, a pleasant, clean-looking, fair-complexioned English youth, with an undue tendency towards blushing when ad dressed by one of the opposite sex. " He may not be very bright," said the father, patronizingly, " but he is suck a good lad." " He looks it," said Eunice, at which the ob ject of their conversation coloured deeply and hung his head.

" And do you go to school ? " asked Miss Vidal maliciously, as they took their seats at the dinner-table. "I have left school more than a year," he said, with a certain wounded pride. " I am a good deal older than I look, and I don't be lieve I 'm half so good as pa likes to make out. I expect I could be very bad if I tried." " Oh, pray don't make the attempt on my account," said Eunice, laughing. " I think you very nice as you are. Now tell me, as you TOMS FILS. have left school, what do you do with your time ? Are you in business ? or studying for a profession ? " " Ha, ha, ha ! " laughed Mr. Toms. " He courts the Muses, Miss Vidal — all the nine of 'em ! " " Oh ! do you write poetry ? " cried the girl, clasping her two hands together, and looking with rapt interest into his face. " How delightful !

You positively must read me some of your compositions after dinner. You will, now, won't you ? You can't refuse me." " Oh, yes, Miss Vidal, he shall read you some, I promise you. He's got a pretty taste for rhyming. All very well for such as don't have to work for their living ; I 've no time to give to that kind of thing." And Mr. Toms leant back in his chair with the air of a man who could knock off " Paradise Lost " if he could find a spare half-hour. And so the dinner progressed. Everything, as might have been expected, was of the best and in great profusion, and to both meats and wines Mr. Thomas Toms did ample justice ; nor, indeed, was Eunice one of those fantastical young ladies who affect to despise the good things of this world. " Now, you young people," said the representative for East Man goldshire, "if you like to go into the drawing-room and talk poetry you can ; but as for me, I must have my forty winks.

Tom, my boy, see if your mother is well enough to come down." Tom and Eunice quitted the dining-room together, and, in spite of the very recent charge from his father, Master Tom somehow failed to remember to invite his mother to the drawing-room, and, oddly enough, it slipped Miss Vidal's memory that he had been bidden to do so, or, of course, she would have reminded him — at all events she said so later in the evening. "How funny it must be to have both names the same!" said Eunice, as she settled herself cozily in a big soft-cushioned arm chair, and looked round the handsomely furnished well-lighted room with an air of placid contentment. "Thomas Toms — hem ! — Tom Tom, like the things the Indian men beat in the streets. If I call you Mr. Tom you won't know which name I 'm calling you by !

Tom, Tom, Tom — it 's like calling a cat, isn't it ? " " I don't know what your Christian name is, or I daresay I could make a joke of it," said the young gentleman angrily, his cheeks flushing as he spoke. " Don't you ? I don't see any reason why you should," answered Eunice carelessly ; but she looked curiously at him from beneath her lashes all the same, though a little contemptuously. "No, of course not ! " responded her companion rather hotly ; "a girl may say anything she likes to a fellow, and he mustn't mind it ; but directly a fellow says anything to a girl, then he 's told he is rude." "And what rude thing do you want to say to poor me ?" asked Eunice demurely. " I 'm sure I 'm very sorry if I have offended you ; but I don't see why you should mind. It 's not your fault if you 've got a funny name ; you didn't christen yourself."

" No ; I wish I had ! " cried he bitterly. " Of course ; some nice well-sounding many-syllabled name — Plantagenet, for example, or Marmaduke, or Maximilian." Tom Toms turned sharply on his heel, and walked to the farther end. of the room, and opening an album, pretended to be engrossed by its contents. " Now you 're annoyed again," said Eunice, with a charming as- Such a, Good Lad. 19 sumption of innocence. " Come here ; come and sit down by me and read me some of your poetry. Oh, you don't know how I dote on poetry ! " " You '11 only laugh at it — and me," he answered, somewhat mollified. " Oh, no ! indeed I won't ! Do read me something — some of your prettiest poems, and I will be so good." The young heir of the house of Toms did not require much press ing, and, unlocking a brass-bound desk, he produced several sheets of foolscap covered with writing, and taking a seat sufficiently near to his father's visitor, he hemmed the cough preliminary.

" This," said he, fluttering the sheets, " is an ode to Cassandra, in which I have endeavoured to portray in classical language her in vocation to Apollo, when " "Haven't you anything a little more modern?" asked Eunice; "anything amusing?" " I don't write comic songs," replied Mr. Toms junior, loftily. " What are all these ? " and Miss Vidal took from his hands a roll of manuscript before he was aware of her intention. " Oh, how neatly you write ! What is this ? ' To Phyllis ; ' who is Phyllis ? ' To Berenice ; ' another to Berenice ; ' To Cleopatra ; ' ' To Clytie.' What a lot of young ladies you know ! and what very fine names they have ! " " Give them to me," cried the youth, sullenly ; and he made a snatch to regain his manuscripts, but failed in the attempt. "Not till I have read one.

You must let me read one — this one, 'To Clytie,' it is very short." " You shall not read it ! " cried Tom Toms, very red in the face and speaking with a sad want of gallantry. Eunice had risen from the easy chair, and with the roll of paper still in her hands, put the width of the table between them: " I must, I must ! Only this one. Listen." Then in mock tragic tones, most trying to the author, she com menced — " ' Sweet, of the golden hair and liquid eyes, By love's consuming flame untimely blighted ' " Poor thing ! couldn't you be induced to take pity on her ? How hard-hearted you poets are, and how soft-hearted are the young ladies you meet." " You shall not read any more ! " cried the poet, really angry, and making a wild clutch to regain his writings across the table. " Oh, I must finish this, it is so sweetly pretty. — " ' Whose nightly groans,' (poor thing !) ' and tears, and sobs, and sighs Speak of a madding passion unrequited ; Whose azure orbs ' " The all-too-sensitive author could stand it no longer : he darted round the table and clutched frantically at his manuscript, but Eunice was yet again too quick for him.

However, by accident his hand caught on a small gold locket which she wore suspended by a chain about her neck, and so violent was his grasp that it came away in his hand. 2 — " How dare you ? " she cried, her eyes flashing as angrily as his ; "give it back to me this instant." Toms junior saw his advantage, and resolved to maintain it. It was he who now sought the protecting barrier of the table, behind which he proceeded coolly to open the little trinket which he had snatched. "Now, I suppose some people would call this puppy good looking," said Mr. Toms, assuming a critical coolness, and walking round the table as Eunice followed him in vain endeavour to regain the locket. " If you don't give it back to me this minute I — I — I — will " " What about my poems ? " asked Mr. Toms. "Take your rubbish," she exclaimed, as she threw the papers contemptuously upon the floor.