Evan Harrington | Page 4

GREAT MEL HAVE TO DIGEST HIM AT DINNER XXIII. TREATS OF A HANDKERCHIEF XXIV. THE COUNTESS MAKES HERSELF FELT XXV. IN WHICH THE STREAM FLOWS MUDDY AND CLEAR
BOOK 5. XXVI. MRS. MEL MAKES A BED FOR HERSELF AND FAMILY XXVII. EXHIBITS ROSE'S GENERALSHIP; EVAN'S PERFORMANCE ON THE SECOND FIDDLE; AND THE WRETCHEDNESS OF THE COUNTESS XXVIII. TOM COGGLESBY'S PROPOSITION XXIX. PRELUDE TO AN ENGAGEMENT XXX. THE BATTLE OF THE BULL-DOGS.
PART I.
XXXI. THE BATTLE OF THE BULL-DOGS.
PART II.
BOOK 6. XXXII. IN WHICH EVAN'S LIGHT BEGINS TO TWINKLE AGAIN XXXIII. THE HERO TAKES HIS RANK IN THE ORCHESTRA XXXIV. A PAGAN SACRIFICE XXXV. ROSE WOUNDED XXXVI. BEFORE BREAKFAST XXXVII. THE RETREAT FROM BECKLEY XXXVIII. IN WHICH WE HAVE TO SEE IN THE DARK
BOOK 7. XXXIX. IN THE DOMAIN OF TAILORDOM XL. IN WHICH THE COUNTESS STILL SCENTS GAME XLI. REVEALS AN ABOMINABLE PLOT OF THE BROTHERS COGGLESBY XLII. JULIANA XLIII. ROSE XLIV. CONTAINS A WARNING TO ALL CONSPIRATORS XLV. IN WHICH THE SHOP BECOMES THE CENTRE OF ATTRACTION XLVI. A LOVER'S PARTING XLVII. A YEAR LATER THE COUNTESS DE SALDAR DE SANCORVO TO HER SISTER CAROLINE

BOOK 1.
I. ABOVE BUTTONS II. THE HERITAGE OR THE SOY III. THE DAUGHTERS OR THE SHEARS IV. ON BOARD THE JOCASTA V. THE FAMILY AND THE FUNERAL VI. MY GENTLEMAN ON THE ROAD VII. MOTHER AND SON
CHAPTER I
ABOVE BUTTONS
Long after the hours when tradesmen are in the habit of commencing business, the shutters of a certain shop in the town of Lymport-on-the- Sea remained significantly closed, and it became known that death had taken Mr. Melchisedec Harrington, and struck one off the list of living tailors. The demise of a respectable member of this class does not ordinarily create a profound sensation. He dies, and his equals debate who is to be his successor: while the rest of them who have come in contact with him, very probably hear nothing of his great launch and final adieu till the winding up of cash-accounts; on which occasions we may augur that he is not often blessed by one or other of the two great parties who subdivide this universe. In the case of Mr. Melchisedec it was otherwise. This had been a grand man, despite his calling, and in the teeth of opprobrious epithets against his craft. To be both generally blamed, and generally liked, evinces a peculiar construction of mortal. Mr. Melchisedec, whom people in private called the great Mel, had been at once the sad dog of Lymport, and the pride of the town. He was a tailor, and he kept horses; he was a tailor, and he had gallant adventures; he was a tailor, and he shook hands with his customers. Finally, he was a tradesman, and he never was known to have sent in a bill. Such a personage comes but once in a generation, and, when he goes, men miss the man as well as their money.
That he was dead, there could be no doubt. Kilne, the publican opposite, had seen Sally, one of the domestic servants, come out of the house in the early morning and rush up the street to the doctor's, tossing her hands; and she, not disinclined to dilute her grief, had, on her return, related that her master was then at his last gasp, and had refused, in so many words, to swallow the doctor.
'"I won't swallow the doctor!" he says, "I won't swallow the doctor!"' Sally moaned. '"I never touched him," he says, "and I never will."'
Kilne angrily declared, that in his opinion, a man who rejected medicine in extremity, ought to have it forced down his throat: and considering that the invalid was pretty deeply in Kilne's debt, it naturally assumed the form of a dishonest act on his part; but Sally scornfully dared any one to lay hand on her master, even for his own good. 'For,' said she, 'he's got his eyes awake, though he do lie so helpless. He marks ye!'
'Ah! ah!' Kilne sniffed the air. Sally then rushed back to her duties.
'Now, there 's a man!' Kilne stuck his hands in his pockets and began his meditation: which, however, was cut short by the approach of his neighbour Barnes, the butcher, to whom he confided what he had heard, and who ejaculated professionally, 'Obstinate as a pig!' As they stood together they beheld Sally, a figure of telegraph, at one of the windows, implying that all was just over.
'Amen!' said Barnes, as to a matter-of-fact affair.
Some minutes after, the two were joined by Grossby, the confectioner, who listened to the news, and observed:
'Just like him! I'd have sworn he'd never take doctor's stuff'; and, nodding at Kilne, 'liked his medicine best, eh?'
'Had a-hem!--good lot of it,' muttered Kilne, with a suddenly serious brow.
'How does he stand on your books?' asked Barnes.
Kilne shouldered