Fatal Boots | Page 9

and asked what the noise meant.
"It's only Lord Cornwallis, sir," said the boys, "battling with his
shoemaker about the price of a pair of top-boots."
"Oh, sir," said I, "it was only in fun that I called myself Lord
Cornwallis."
"In fun!--Where are the boots? And you, sir, give me your bill." My
beautiful boots were brought; and Stiffelkind produced his bill. "Lord
Cornwallis to Samuel Stiffelkind, for a pair of boots--four guineas."
"You have been fool enough, sir," says the Doctor, looking very stern,
"to let this boy impose on you as a lord; and knave enough to charge

him double the value of the article you sold him. Take back the boots,
sir! I won't pay a penny of your bill; nor can you get a penny. As for
you, sir, you miserable swindler and cheat, I shall not flog you as I did
before, but I shall send you home: you are not fit to be the companion
of honest boys."
"SUPPOSE WE DUCK HIM before he goes?" piped out a very small
voice. The Doctor grinned significantly, and left the school-room; and
the boys knew by this they might have their will. They seized me and
carried me to the playground pump: they pumped upon me until I was
half dead; and the monster, Stiffelkind, stood looking on for the
half-hour the operation lasted.
I suppose the Doctor, at last, thought I had had pumping enough, for he
rang the school-bell, and the boys were obliged to leave me. As I got
out of the trough, Stiffelkind was alone with me. "Vell, my lort," says
he, "you have paid SOMETHING for dese boots, but not all. By
Jubider, YOU SHALL NEVER HEAR DE END OF DEM." And I
didn't.
APRIL.--FOOLING.
After this, as you may fancy, I left this disgusting establishment, and
lived for some time along with pa and mamma at home. My education
was finished, at least mamma and I agreed that it was; and from
boyhood until hobbadyhoyhood (which I take to be about the sixteenth
year of the life of a young man, and may be likened to the month of
April when spring begins to bloom)--from fourteen until seventeen, I
say, I remained at home, doing nothing--for which I have ever since
had a great taste--the idol of my mamma, who took part in all my
quarrels with father, and used regularly to rob the weekly expenses in
order to find me in pocket-money. Poor soul! many and many is the
guinea I have had from her in that way; and so she enabled me to cut a
very pretty figure.
Papa was for having me at this time articled to a merchant, or put to
some profession; but mamma and I agreed that I was born to be a
gentleman and not a tradesman, and the army was the only place for me.
Everybody was a soldier in those times, for the French war had just
begun, and the whole country was swarming with militia regiments.
"We'll get him a commission in a marching regiment," said my father.
"As we have no money to purchase him up, he'll FIGHT his way, I

make no doubt." And papa looked at me with a kind of air of contempt,
as much as to say he doubted whether I should be very eager for such a
dangerous way of bettering myself.
I wish you could have heard mamma's screech when he talked so coolly
of my going out to fight! "What! send him abroad, across the horrid,
horrid sea--to be wrecked and perhaps drowned, and only to land for
the purpose of fighting the wicked Frenchmen,--to be wounded, and
perhaps kick--kick--killed! Oh, Thomas, Thomas! would you murder
me and your boy?" There was a regular scene. However, it ended--as it
always did--in mother's getting the better, and it was settled that I
should go into the militia. And why not? The uniform is just as
handsome, and the danger not half so great. I don't think in the course
of my whole military experience I ever fought anything, except an old
woman, who had the impudence to hallo out, "Heads up,
lobster!"--Well, I joined the North Bungays, and was fairly launched
into the world.
I was not a handsome man, I know; but there was SOMETHING about
me-- that's very evident--for the girls always laughed when they talked
to me, and the men, though they affected to call me a poor little
creature, squint-eyes, knock-knees, redhead, and so on, were evidently
annoyed by my success, for they hated me so confoundedly. Even at
the present time they go on, though I have given up gallivanting, as I
call it. But in the April of my existence,-- that is, in anno Domini 1791,
or so--it