Scrolls, ciphers, dragons, Cupids, polyanthuses, and other flowers writhe up the walls in every kind of cornucopiosity.Fancy every gentleman in Jullien's band playing with all his might, and each performing a different tune; the ornaments at our Club, the 'Sarcophagus,' so bewilder and affect me.Dazzled with emotions which I cannot describe, and which she dared not reveal, Mrs.Chuff, followed by her children and son-in-law, walked wondering amonst these blundering splendours.
In the great library (225 feet long by 150) the only man Mrs.Chuff saw, was Tiggs.He was lying on a crimson-velvet sofa, reading a French novel of Paul de Kock.It was a very little book.He is a very little man.In that enormous hall he looked like a mere speck.As the ladies passed breathless and trembling in the vastness of the magnificent solitude, he threw a knowing, killing glance at the fair strangers, as much as to say, 'Ain't Ia fine fellow?' They thought so, I am sure.
'WHO IS THAT?,' hisses out Mrs.Chuff, when we were about fifty yards off him at the other end of the room.
'Tiggs!' says I, in a similar whisper.
'Pretty comfortable this, isn't it, my dear?' says Maine in a free-and-easy way to Mrs.Sackville; all the magazines, you see--writing materials--new works--choice library, containing every work of importance--what have we here?--"Dugdale's Monasticon,' a most valuable and, Ibelieve, entertaining book.'
And proposing to take down one of the books for Mrs.Maine's inspection, he selected Volume VII., to which he was attracted by the singular fact that a brass door-handle grew out of the back.Instead of pulling out a book, however, he pulled open a cupboard, only inhabited by a lazy housemaid's broom and duster, at which he looked exceedingly discomfited ; while Nelson Collingwood, losing all respect, burst into a roar of laughter.
'That's the rummest book I ever saw,' says Nelson.'Iwish we'd no others at Merchant Taylors'.'
'Hush, Nelson!' cries Mrs.Chuff, and we went into the other magnificent apartments.
How they did admire the drawing-room hangings, (pink and silver brocade, most excellent wear for London,) and calculated the price per yard; and revelled on the luxurious sofas; and gazed on the immeasurable looking-glasses.
'Pretty well to shave by, eh?' says Maine to his mother-in-law.(He was getting more abominably conceited every minute.) 'Get away, Sackville,' says she, quite delighted, and threw a glance over her shoulder, and spread out the wings of the red tabinet, and took a good look at herself; so did Mrs.Sackville--just one, and Ithought the glass reflected a very smiling, pretty creature.
But what's a woman at a looking-glass? Bless the little dears, it's their place.They fly to it naturally.It pleases them, and they adorn it.What I like to see, and watch with increasing joy and adoration, is the Club MENat the great looking-glasses.Old Gills pushing up his collars and grinning at his own mottled face.Hulker looking solemnly at his great person, and tightening his coat to give himself a waist.Fred Minchin simpering by as he is going out to dine, and casting upon the reflection of his white neckcloth a pleased moony smile.
What a deal of vanity that Club mirror has reflected, to be sure!
Well, the ladies went through the whole establishment with perfect pleasure.They beheld the coffee-rooms, and the little tables laid for dinner, and the gentlemen who were taking their lunch, and old Jawkins thundering away as usual; they saw the reading-rooms, and the rush for the evening papers; they saw the kitchens--those wonders of art--where the CHEF was presiding over twenty pretty kitchen-maids, and ten thousand shining saucepans: and they got into the light-blue fly perfectly bewildered with pleasure.
Sackville did not enter it, though little Laura took the back seat on purpose, and left him the front place alongside of Mrs.Chuff's red tabinet.
'We have your favourite dinner,' says she, in a timid voice; 'won't you come, Sackville?'
'I shall take a chop here to-day, my dear,' Sackville replied.'Home, James.' And he went up the steps of the 'Sarcophagus,' and the pretty face looked very sad out of the carriage, as the blue fly drove away.
