Evan Harrington | Page 4

THE
ROAD AGAIN XI. DOINGS AT AN INN XII. IN WHICH ALE IS
SHOWN TO HAVE ONE QUALITY OF WINE XIII. THE MATCH
OF FALLOWFIELD AGAINST BECKLEY
BOOK 3. XIV. THE COUNTESS DESCRIBES THE FIELD OF
ACTION XV. A CAPTURE XVI. LEADS TO A SMALL SKIRMISH
BETWEEN ROSE AND EVAN XVII. IN WHICH EVAN WRITES
HIMSELF TAILOR XVIII. IN WHICH EVAN CALLS HIMSELF
GENTLEMAN
BOOK 4. XIX. SECOND DESPATCH OF THE COUNTESS XX.
BREAK-NECK LEAP XXI. TRIBULATIONS AND TACTICS OF
THE COUNTESS XXII. IN WHICH THE DAUGHTERS OF THE
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,