Christmas Comes but Once A Year | Page 6

of finding his dinner as usual, the chop and potato,
he learns that his landlord, Mr. Strap, the greengrocer, has stopped the
supplies. It is quarter-day!--Strap thinks of the five weeks' arrears, and
Mr. Spohf's inability to pay for his lodgings; so, Mr. and Mrs. Strap
have surprised him, by preparing a huge leg of mutton and pudding; for
they know he does not, as of old, go to the "Willer." After this humble
repast, which was relished as much as any could be, and was far less
likely to leave unpleasant sensations than if it had been more costly,
they draw round the fire; and master Ichabod Strap, one of the
choristers of St. Stiff the Martyr, is playing with a shilling, polishing
the coin upon his sleeve--it is the identical one said to have been put in
the plate by Captain de Camp, and given by Mr. Flyntflayer (the
gentleman who held the gothic platter) to Mrs. Strap, the pue-opener,
advising her at the same time to nail it to the counter--a counterfeit to
deter "smashers." But, somehow, the coin seemed doomed to remain
unholy, for no orifice or artifice could have rendered it a lucky one; it
was shown to Mr. Spohf, who thought it bad, and that it might have
gotten into the plate by mistake; Mrs. Strap knew it bad--an intentional
perpetration,--and, like the giver, not worth a dump; Mr. Strap not only
thought it bad, but proved it so; for, after having spun, sounded, and
eaten a portion of it, he cast the coin into the glowing fire, where the
silver quickly changed, dropping, like quick-silver, among the ashes, to
be picked out by Ichabod, very unlike a sterling coin.
[Illustration]
Old Strap, who had taken "the pledge," but since introduced an

exceptional clause in favour of feasts and festivals, gets out the black
bottle for fraternity's sake. They take a pipe a-piece, and so softened is
the little organist with their genuine unsophisticated kindness, that he
sees all his cares fly, and nothing but joys in the wreathed curls of
smoke betaking themselves up the chimney:--he sees Messrs. Blow and
Grumble, the eminent organ-builders, making a fortune by his "new
movement;" having purchased and patented it: he has found a publisher
for his church music, and sold his old opera. Captain de Camp has
vanished in smoke--he has exploded of spontaneous combustion,--they
find him all deceit, leaving a glass eye and a cork leg. Mr. Latimer gets
the Colonial Bishopric of Bushantee, in New Zealand, and cuts Miss
Jemima. Mr. Wellesley having gone to India for glory, returns with
it,--a hook, and a patch over his eye. Miss Angelina vows to die a
virgin. Mr. Brown says to Mr. Spohf, "my son!"--Mr. Spohf says to Mr.
Brown, "my father!" Mr. Strap is standing in triumph upon a pyramid
of "carpets to beat," viewing a lesser one of "boots to brush;" having
been entrusted with more "messages" than mortal ever could "deliver;"
whilst innumerable vans, bearing the name of Strap, traverse
innumerable roads in "Town and Country." Mrs. Strap, dressed in a
plain plum silk, turns a mahogany mangle, and gets up nothing but
"fine things." Ichabod has cut the choir, and made his début in an opera
as Herr Strapii, a perfect triumph.
But here we will leave Mr. Spohf's reverie--for Victoria and reality;
where the company is arriving to the annual dinner, and sitting about
the drawing-room, looking as happy as patients at a dentist's; or festive,
as disappointed toadeaters at the funeral of an opulent relative, who had
left all his property to found an asylum for decayed postboys--after
leading everybody to expect the lion's share of it:--the guests, for want
of more exciting topics, admiring the gimcracks they admired a year
ago; thinking the portrait of Mr. Brown--"done," twenty years since, at
a portrait club,--a splendid likeness, and that the original grows
younger (query, richer?); stating truths and untruths about the weather;
inquiring energetically after each other's health--not caring for the
answers; with other homely pleasantries, too numerous to mention;
until some of the juveniles--the only ones who really seem at
home--espy from the window a loaded parcel-cart; this they observe as

funny on a Sunday (little thinking, at that moment, it was Tuesday).
Here Mr. Brown descends, to hold an altercation with the guard of that
cart, who makes light of a huge hamper of game; whilst the guests at
the windows above, speculate upon having to eat an uncooked turkey,
or fancy their ravenous appetites waiting while it is cooked--the
youngsters calculating upon a dinner all pudding. Mr. Brown returns,
and tenders his arm to Lady Lucretia de Camp--in the excitement,
leading her down the side where the stairs taper to nothing,--causing
that lady to lose both equilibrium and temper.