UNCLE TWEAZY AND HIS QUIZZICAL NEIGHBOURS.

Plummer and Brewis, Printers, Love-lane, Eastcheap.

UNCLE TWEAZY AND HIS QUIZZICAL NEIGHBOURS: A COMI-SATIRIC NOVEL.

IN THREE VOLUMES.

BY The Author of the “Observant Pedestrian,” &c. &c. &c.

VOL. I.

LONDON: PRINTED FOR W. SIMPKIN AND R. MARSHALL, STATIONERS’-COURT, LUDGATE-STREET.

1816.

UNCLE TWEAZY.

CHAP. I.

Petulant beyond all idea, he was literally a living monument of self perplexity; for having been crossed in love in the early part of life, he had never forgot the disappointment, and was now in his sixty-fifth year, the most ill-natured man in existence, and certainly one of the most unpleasant companions upon earth. If he frowned, every brow must instantly contract; if perchance he forced a smile, every body must dilate their muscles from a simper to a broad grin; in short, the whole world must conform to his humour, though he took especial care never to conform to any body’s.

One poor slave in the shape of a housekeeper, who had patiently borne the yoke of his troublesome services thirty years, and old Geoffry, who officiated in the united capacities of butler, groom, valet, and gardener, composed the favourites of the family, with the exception only of Alice the cook, whom he boasted could alike dress him a turtle or potatoe in perfection, a qualification which few women possessed; and my poor uncle being a great epicure, Mrs. Alice’s culinary talents were highly prized by her master, which with the occasional promise of being scratched down in one corner of his will, as a reward for past services, made her doubly diligent.

Now, though my uncle was excessively morose, he could, when the humour suited, be sociable with his neighbours; and as every one was[Pg 4] aware of his temper, they heeded not his petulance; all looked upon him as an eccentric being; the opulent admired him for his talents, which at times, when he liked his companions, he could most ably exert; and the indigent feared his frowns. So that upon the whole, his virtues counterpoised his vices, temper excepted, which overbalanced all bounds; but as people used to say, there was no knowing who might become his heir, (having quarrelled all his life with the major part of his family, my father excepted,) and I happening to have been a great favourite with him when a school boy, I determined to try my luck with the old gentleman, and accordingly, self-invited, I formed a plan of passing a fortnight with him; and receiving his most gracious answer and assent, I left London with a full determination to bear and forbear , and in thirty hours found myself at his gate.

“How is your master, Geoffry?”

“Much as usual , Sir,” and Geoffry sighed. I therefore concluded by the doleful cast of his countenance, that all was not right; however, he opened the parlour door, and in I walked, greeting the old squire, as I thought, very politely.

“How d’ye do, good Sir? I’m rejoiced to see you.”

“I guessed as much, nephew; I guessed as much, by your being in too great a hurry to wipe your shoes, but I can assure you, my servants won’t rejoice at the trouble of cleaning the hall; you have made more dirt in one moment, than I do in a year.”

“I beg ten thousand pardons, Sir.”

“Pshaw, boy!” (and he curled up his nose like a snarling dog) “that’s nine hundred and ninety-nine too many.[Pg 6] Why exaggerate? Why talk nonsense?”

“Wrong again,” said I to myself; “well, but how do you find yourself, Sir?” and I ventured to take a chair.

“Why, I find myself every thing I should not be; a mere composition of pain and perplexity; every body and every thing conspires to torment me. How’s your father and mother, hey, boy?”

“Charming, Sir, I thank you.”

“Charming?” repeated my uncle with a sarcastic drawl, “that is impossible.”

“I must beg leave to differ from you in that point, Sir; there are not two more worthy people on earth than my father and mother.”

“Different people, different opinions,” rejoined my uncle, carelessly taking a pinch of snuff. “Any news in town, child?”

“Nothing particular, Sir.”

“Aye, we live in a sad world; I’m sick of it.”

“Very troublesome times, indeed, Sir,” replied I, most humbly acquiescent.

“Not troublesome at all, if a parcel of foolish headstrong folks did not trouble themselves with what don’t concern them; but pray don’t talk politics in my presence; it’s a subject I detest. Well, but now you haven’t told how your father and mother do?”

“Both well, Sir; they have sent you a turbot, of which they beg your acceptance.”

“Humph! Why did they do that, child, when it’s the only fish I detest; I can’t bear the very name of it.”

“Bless me, how unlucky!” exclaimed I.

“Not at all,” replied my uncle; “I shall make a present of it to the[Pg 8] parson; he won’t think it unlucky, I’ll be bound; so it’s all mighty well, if it’s honestly paid for.”

This sarcasm uttered with much gravity, gave my temper a fillip; but I swallowed the pill, and directing my eye towards the garden, I observed how delightfully pleasant it appeared.

“I don’t think it looks pleasant at all,” said my uncle.

“It’s a delightful day, Sir.”

“By no means; it’s too sultry; it’s going to rain; there’s a nasty blight hanging in the air.”

“Well, I’m no great judge, to be sure, Sir.”

“So it’s a sign; you need not have blown a cracked trumpet.”

“Why, I’m a cockney to be sure, Sir.”

“So much the better,” said my uncle; “an honest cockney can never be a bad man.”

Unfortunately, at this moment I happened to stretch my listless form upon the chair, and slid one of my legs across the marble hearth.

“Mercy defend me!” exclaimed my uncle, “is that the new fashioned way of sitting on a chair, or are you inventing caricature postures? See, your shoes are sprawled over my hearth. If I had wanted the polish rasped off in that manner, I could have sent for one of my plough-boys.”

I begged pardon, withdrew my truant foot, seated myself in an upright posture; but, alas, having assumed the indulgence of lolling my elbow on the table, and drumming a little stave of vexation with my fingers.

“Boy! boy!” rejoined my uncle, “have a care; see how you are spoiling your coat, and ruining my bright table. What, are you making drumsticks[Pg 10] of your fingers, on purpose to render them as dubby as a cobler’s; dear me, how terribly troublesome an unthinking person makes himself for want of a moment’s attention.”

The flush of vexation crossed my cheek, and I took out my handkerchief to erase the spots, which I began rubbing off.

“Zounds!” exclaimed my uncle, “why, the fellow’s mad; d’ye think we have not something of less value in the house than a silk handkerchief, to make a dishclout of? Ring the bell; do, pray, if you can.” Not doubting my own abilities, I seized the pull and off set such alarum as might have roused the whole village.

My uncle jumped up, stamped his feet, stopped his ears, and paced the room like a madman, till the vibration ceased, and old Geoffry stood bowing before him to know what he pleased to want.

“My hearing, my senses, a new pair of drums to my ears,” said my uncle; “I’ll tell you what, nephew, in cool blood,” (though he foamed with passion,) “if ever you ring a bell again in such a manner in my house, I’ll knock you down; you’ll excuse me, but I shall certainly knock you down.” I bowed, and assured him I should for the future be more on my guard.

“I desire you will,” continued my uncle, “or else you’ll plague my soul out. Here, Geoffry, see if you can find any thing in the house to rub these spots out with, except my best laced ruffled shirt; or if you can’t, my nephew will lend you the elbow of his new coat, or a silk handkerchief.”

Geoffry withdrew, and I again adjusted another erect position, but most unfortunately for me, he had left the door open, and my uncle requesting[Pg 12] me to shut it, I mechanically slammed it too with my left hand.

“Plague take the fellow!” exclaimed my uncle, “I shall run wild. What d’ye mean by banging the door with one hand, as if God hadn’t given you two; one would think that you was a white-smith, trying to spoil all the locks, and wrench off the hinges to make good for trade. I never saw your equal in my life; for whether sitting still or moving, you appear to me to be committing perpetual depredation.”

Oh, how I wished myself at home! My very chair was planted with thorns; but I remembered my vow; “bear and forbear, rebellious heart!” said I, and this silent soliloquy tranquillized my rising choler; but the reflection I was to endure it for a fortnight, almost conquered my determination.

CHAP. II.

At length, after a pause of some moments, “Nephew,” said my uncle, “if you’ll lend me your arm, I’ll treat you with a walk round my grounds; you was always a promising lad, and I hope I shan’t be deceived in you. I wish to make your time pass pleasantly; I shall do all in my power to make you comfortable; I’m an odd man, but I must have my way; I shall pay well for’t in time; you understand me, boy; all’s in your power, if you mind your hits. I haven’t made my will yet;” and he winked me a sagacious leer, intimating a sort of cobweb promise.

[Pg 14]

We now proceeded to the garden, where, miserable to relate, the high narrow heels of my Cordovan Hessians so perforated the damp gravel, that wherever I trod, an ungracious cavity marked the spot, which the vigilant eye of my uncle soon discovered, and he halloed with the vehemence of a Stentor, for Geoffry to bring the flat clogs, declaring that a mad ox could not have done him more mischief.

In vain I apologized; he looked as sulky as a bear, and requested I’d pluck him half a dozen peaches; the fruit looked tempting, and I obeyed his command; but lo, when he came to pinch them, not one was ripe enough to please his palate.

“Psha! what an oaf thou art, child! These peaches are as hard as iron; they are not worth a ——” the sentence I must not repeat, though I both heard and felt it.

[Pg 15]

“I thought they were ripe, Sir,” and I cast a penitent look.

“Never think for any body but yourself, Sir,” and on we walked arm in arm, till we came within sight of a remarkable fine cherry tree, at the foot of which stood a short ladder, which my uncle requested me to ascend, and gather a leaf-full of cherries.

Alert as a squirrel, up I mounted, and espying one bunch loaded with delicious clusters, I fixed my foot on a protruding bough, and had just got the tempting prize in my hand, when from some perverse fate that seemed doomed to attend me, the treacherous basis snapped under my foot, and precipitated me to the ground, bringing with me an immense branch, to which I mechanically clung for preservation.

[Pg 16]

Stunned with the fall, and smothered with the mashed cherries, though I had incurred no other injury, had you seen my uncle’s countenance, you would never have forgotten it; he stood petrified at the sight of his mutilated tree, but my broken neck or limbs seemed no object of consideration.

“I am not hurt,” said I, picking myself nimbly up.

“But my tree is materially injured; you have done me a guinea’s worth of damage in a moment.”

“But I might have broken a limb, which would have been much worse.”

“You have limbed my finest tree, however, Sir; run into the house, and call Geoffry.”

Off I bounded, but as I had committed so much depredation on the gravel, I ran across the lawn, where I had scarce set foot, when my uncle’s[Pg 17] terrific vociferation to “come off, come off,” arrested my pace.

“What the devil are you galloping like a race-horse over the lawn for? Go round by the shrubbery, and up the espalier walk, you Sir, d’ye hear?”

I obeyed his mandate, and springing from the lawn, I took the premised direction; but I had not proceeded ten yards before the crown of my hat caught the branch of a low standard apricot, and knock off a cluster of seven, which rolled in golden balls at my feet.

“The devil has certainly bewitched me,” said I, stooping to pick up the fruit, when a plaguy officious pug dog, who was at that moment making towards me, ran between my feet; and losing my equilibrium, I pitched heels over head, and dashed off a fine young nonpareil espalier at one crash.

[Pg 18]

Dismayed with vexation, I had only to pick up the apricots, which I thought most prudent to put out of sight, by swallowing them as fast as possible; but with the espalier I could do nothing without the advice and assistance of Geoffry, though, thank heaven, my uncle was out of sight of my dilemma, and being pretty expeditious in my motions, I soon reached the hall door, where my unlucky stars again clashed in conjunction, for turning round rather too sharp, my elbow struck one of the crown glass panes, and shivered it completely.

Poor Geoffry stood a statue of astonishment and despair. “Master will never forgive you, Sir for sartin sure; they panes bees a guineas a-piece; dear heart! dear heart! what a mishap!”

[Pg 19]

I then briefly related the accident of the cherry and espalier trees, the latter of which he assured me he would endeavour to repair, provided it did not meet the old gentleman’s eye, “for which reason I shall persuade him to return to the house as fast as possible, for fear of rain,” said Geoffry.

“Is you master always so ill tempered and snappish?” asked I.

“I have never seen him otherwise these thirty years,” replied Geoffry, as we quickened our pace down the portentous espalier walk, where lay the levelled nonpariel, which he gave me hopes of being able to replace without discovery. “But the pane of glass,” continued he, “how shall we get over that? We must not lay it on the dog; Master knows better, and never forgives a lie.” We therefore agreed he should fetch the glazier, and I pay[Pg 20] the expence, as the best mode of preventing anger.

By this time we were in sight of my uncle, who was busily picking off the cherries from the broken branch, and soliloquizing with numerous oaths on my aukwardness in a muttering tone, as we approached.

“Here’s a pretty job!” exclaimed he; “here’s a pretty concern!”

“It might have been worse, Sir,” said Geoffry scratching his head. “The gentleman might have broke his neck! Lack a daisey, Sir, never care about it; it has saved me the trouble of lopping next autumn; for it must have come off; it’s all seer wood, so of a bad job, I think it turns out a good one.”

“What signifies what you think?” replied my uncle. “I think you talk like an old fool; clear it away out of my sight; it will be a memorial to[Pg 21] me of my nephew’s aukwardness as long as I live.”

“This has indeed been one of the perplexing hours of my existence,” replied I, “but I hope I shall be able, my dear Sir, to make you amends.”

“Psha! that’s mighty unlikely,” retorted he; “and as for hoping about it, hope won’t mend my tree; hopes are cobwebs dangling in the air, possessing just as much substance as their texture.”

Poor old Geoffry, who plainly discerned the black cloud that deepened his master’s brow, and dreaded the second part of the storm, gave me a jog of the elbow, and a significant wink, and with a face of much earnest enquiry, thus addressed him:

“Pray, Sir, did you leave the hall door open?”

“Perhaps I might; I believe I did; why, what of that?”

[Pg 22]

“Why then, Sir,” continued Geoffry, winking with both his eyes, “it has slapped too with the wind or somehow , and dashed a pane of glass all to shivers.”

“Impossible!” cried my uncle; “totally impossible, if the wind blew a hurricane from every point of the compass, it could not break that glass.”

“But it could slam the door, I suppose,” rejoined Geoffry, who had now triumphantly carried his point, “for I’ll swear, please your honour, I found it in that state; it made noise enough, and neither I or the maids were near it, and you and Mr. Victor were in the garden. So, in short, Sir, it must be your own fault, I’m sure. The gentleman saw all the broken glass, and was as flustered like as I was; wasn’t you, Sir?”

This appeal demanded as ingenious a reply as Geoffry had hatched[Pg 23] to save anger, and I therefore vehemently asserted that I saw the disaster, and it really did appear incredulous that the wind should have such power, but such causes and effects would occasionally take place in despite of all caution.

“It’s a mighty strange occurrence,” continued my uncle, musing on his cane; “there don’t seem to be any wind stirring.”

“Oh, yes, there is; and it’s going to blow up rain in a few minutes; lauk, Sir, you haven’t got your hat on; you had better return to the house the way you came, and shew Mr. Victor the rest of the grounds to-morrow morning.”

“Well, I believe that will be the best way, Geoffry, for I’m horridly bored with perplexities this morning; come, Victor, give me your arm; there, gently! Don’t walk so fast; you’ll pull me down.”

[Pg 24]

We now crept on a funeral pace, he grumbling at his own supposed carelessness, and execrating the wind, I secretly laughing in my sleeve, and admiring the ingenuity of old Geoffry, who out of three troubles had relieved me of two most consequential ones.

The mutilated pane proved the next source of perplexity, and Geoffry was dispatched down the village to fetch the glazier, who soon repaired the damage, and all was right.

Dinner shortly after made its appearance, and with it commenced my further vexations. A carp bone first stuck in my throat to torment me, and in a paroxysm of strangulation attempting to swallow some beer, I threw it all over the tablecloth.

My uncle execrated my aukwardness, and observed my bread lay on the wrong side of my plate, which[Pg 25] those who studied men and manners ought to know; but some never arrived at the age of discretion.

With such like taunts, the fish and fowl was removed for a supply of tarts and jellies, both which I should have managed extremely well, if a new plague, in the shape of a codling dumpling, (my uncle’s most favourite dish) had not made its appearance, to dress which my uncle requested me to hand him a little melted butter, which with my usual alacrity I whipped into the cavity of the dumpling, to the great dismay of my uncle, who precipitately exclaimed, “It’s anchovy sauce, by G—d. Take it out of my sight; clear the table, and let me starve;” then rising abruptly, “if you can’t say grace, nephew, let Geoffry repeat it over the dumpling.”

[Pg 26]

“The tureens being covered, Sir, I really did not perceive the difference of the sauces. I sincerely beg pardon; but in my zeal to serve you I confess I have committed a most provoking mistake,” said I.

“Aye, it’s that plaguy zeal, as you call it, that does so much mischief. I little thought, when I stood sponsor for you, what a clumsy fellow you’d make. I’m sure you’re old enough to know better; I believe by my chronological book you’re three and twenty.”

I bowed; “It’s a true bill, Sir, indeed.”

“I’m sorry for it,” rejoined my uncle; “for it bears a very bad stamp for value received .”

“Dear Sir, I’m the most volatile fellow upon earth; my heart’s the very mansion of peace and content, and I would not willingly injure a[Pg 27] worm; Providence has blest me with an eminent share of health, and I dare say I shall never look grave till I’m in love.”