PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
VOL. 1.
AUGUST 21, 1841.
THE WIFE-CATCHERS.
A LEGEND OF MY UNCLE’S BOOTS.
In Four Chapters.
CHAPTER IV.
The conversation now subsided into“private and confidential” whispers, from which I couldlearn that Miss O’Brannigan had consented to quit herfather’s halls with Terence that very night, and, before thepriest, to become his true and lawful wife.
It had been previously understood that those of the guests wholived at a distance from the lodge should sleep there that night.Nothing could have been more favourable for the designs of thelovers; and it was arranged between them, that Miss Biddy was tosteal from her chamber into the yard, at daybreak, and apprise herlover of her presence by flinging a handful of gravel against hiswindow. Terence’s horse was warranted to carry double, andthe lady had taken the precaution to secure the key of the stablewhere he was placed.
It was long after midnight before the company began toseparate;—cloaks, shawls, and tippets were called for; a jugof punch of extra strength was compounded, and a doch andhurris11. A drink at thedoor;—a farewell cup. of the steaming beverageadministered to every individual before they were permitted todepart. At length the house was cleared of its guests, with theexception of those who were to remain and take beds there. Amongstthe number were the haberdasher and your uncle. The latter wasshown into a chamber in which a pleasant turf fire was burning onthe hearth.
Although Terence’s mind was full of sweet anticipationsand visions of future grandeur, he could not avoid feeling adisagreeable sensation arising from the soaked state of his boots;and calculating that it still wanted three or four hours ofdaybreak, he resolved to have us dry and comfortable for hismorning’s adventure. With this intention he drew us off, andplaced us on the hearth before the fire, and threw himself on thebed—not to sleep—he would sooner have committedsuicide—but to meditate upon the charms of Miss Biddy and herthousand pounds.
But our strongest resolutions are overthrown bycircumstances—the ducking, the dancing, and thepotteen, had so exhausted Terence, that he unconsciouslyshut, first, one eye, then the other, and, finally, he fell fastasleep, and dreamed of running away with the heiress on his back,through a shaking bog, in which he sank up to the middle at everystep. His vision was, however, suddenly dispelled by a smart rattleagainst his window. A moment was sufficient to recall him to hissenses—he knew it was Miss Biddy’s signal, and, jumpingfrom the bed, drew back the cotton window-curtains and peeredearnestly out: but though the day had begun to break, it was stilltoo dark to enable him to distinguish any person on the lawn. In aviolent hurry he seized on your humble servant, and endeavoured todraw me on; but, alas! the heat of the fire had so shrank me frommy natural dimensions, that he might as well have attempted tointroduce his leg and foot into an eel-skin. Flinging me in a rageto the further corner of the room, he essayed to thrust his footinto my companion, which had been reduced to the same shrunkenstate as myself. In vain he tugged, swore, and strained; first withone, and then with another, until the stitches in our sides grinned