Frank Fairlegh | Page 4

had a great respect for all properly constituted authorities, and
an extreme regard for the proprieties of life; was very particular about
my shoes being clean, and my hat nicely brushed; always said "Thank
you" when a servant handed me a plate, and "May I trouble you?" when

I asked for a bit of bread. In short, I bade fair in time to become a
thorough old bachelor; one of those unhappy mortals whose lives are
alike a burthen to themselves and others-men who, by magnifying the
minor household miseries into events of importance, are uneasy and
suspicious about the things from the wash having been properly aired,
and become low and anxious as the dreadful time approaches when
clean sheets are inevitable! My ideas of a private tutor, derived chiefly
from Sandford and Merton, and Evenings at Home, were rather wide of
the mark, leading me to expect that Dr. Mildman would impart
instruction to us during long rambles over green fields, and in the form
of moral allegories, to which we should listen with respectful attention
and affectionate esteem. With regard to my outward man, or rather boy,
I should have been obliged to confine myself to such particulars as I
could remember, namely, that I was tall for my age, but slightly built,
and so thin, as often to provoke the application of such epithets as
"hop-pole," "thread-paper," etc., had it not been that, in turning over
some papers a few days since, I stumbled on a water-colour sketch of
myself, which I well remember being taken by a young artist in the
neighbourhood, just ~6~~before I left home, in the hope of consoling
my mother for my departure. It represented a lad about fifteen, in a
picturesque attitude, feeding a pony out of a very elegant little basket,
with what appeared to be white currants, though I have every reason to
believe they were meant for oats. The aforesaid youth rejoiced in an
open shirt-collar and black ribbon à la Byron, curling hair of a dark
chestnut colour, regular features, a high forehead, complexion like a
girl's, very pink and white, and a pair of large blue eyes, engaged in
regarding the white currant oats with intense surprise, as well indeed
they might. Whether this young gentleman bore more resemblance to
me than the currants did to oats, I am, of course, unable to judge; but,
as the portrait represented a very handsome boy, I hope none of my
readers will be rude enough to doubt that it was a striking likeness.
I now proceeded to render myself thoroughly wretched, by attempting
to extricate the articles necessary for a change of dress from the very
bottom of my trunk, where, according to the nature of such things, they
had hidden themselves; grammars, lexicons, and other like "Amenities
of Literature," being the things that came to hand most readily.

Scarcely had I contrived to discover a wearable suit when I was
informed that dinner was on the table; so, hastily tumbling into my
clothes, and giving a final peep at the facetious looking-glass, the result
of which was to twist the bow of my Byron tie under my left ear, in the
belief that I was thereby putting it straight, I rushed downstairs, just in
time to see the back of the hindmost pupil disappear through the
dining-room door.
"Better late than never, Fairlegh. Mrs. Mildman, this is Fairlegh; he can
sit by you, Coleman;-'For what we are going to receive,' etc.;--Thomas,
the carving-knife."
Such was the address with which my tutor greeted my entrance, and,
during its progress, I popped into a seat indicated by a sort of half wink
from Thomas, resisting by a powerful act of self-control a sudden
impulse which seized me to bolt out of the room, and do something
rash but indefinite, between going to sea and taking prussic acid; not
quite either, but partaking of the nature of both. "Take soup, Fairlegh?"
said Dr. Mildman. "Thank you, sir, if you please."
"A pleasant journey, had you?" inquired Mrs. Mildman.
"Not any, I am much obliged to you," I replied, thinking of the fish.
This produced a total silence, during which the pupils ~7~~exchanged
glances, and Thomas concealed an illicit smile behind the bread-basket.
"Does your father," began Dr. Mildman in a very grave and deliberate
manner, "does your father shoot?--boiled mutton, my dear?"
I replied that he had given it up of late years, as the fatigue was too
much for him.
"Oh! I was very fond of carrying a gun-pepper-when I was-a spoon-at
Oxford; I could hit a-mashed potato-bird as well as most men; yes, I
was very sorry to give up my double-barrel-ale, Thomas."
"You came inside, I believe?" questioned Mrs. Mildman, a lady

possessing a shadowy outline, indistinct features faintly