Going into Society | Page 6

in a chay and four grays with silk jackets. They
took lodgings in Pall Mall, London, and they blazed away.
In consequence of a note that was brought to Bartlemy Fair in the
autumn of next year by a servant, most wonderful got up in milk- white
cords and tops, I cleaned myself and went to Pall Mall, one evening
appinted. The gentlemen was at their wine arter dinner, and Mr.
Chops's eyes was more fixed in that Ed of his than I thought good for
him. There was three of 'em (in company, I mean), and I knowed the
third well. When last met, he had on a white Roman shirt, and a
bishop's mitre covered with leopard-skin, and played the clarionet all
wrong, in a band at a Wild Beast Show.
This gent took on not to know me, and Mr. Chops said: "Gentlemen,
this is a old friend of former days:" and Normandy looked at me
through a eye-glass, and said, "Magsman, glad to see you!"--which I'll
take my oath he wasn't. Mr. Chops, to git him convenient to the table,
had his chair on a throne (much of the form of George the Fourth's in
the canvass), but he hardly appeared to me to be King there in any other
pint of view, for his two gentlemen ordered about like Emperors. They
was all dressed like May-Day--gorgeous!--And as to Wine, they swam

in all sorts.
I made the round of the bottles, first separate (to say I had done it), and
then mixed 'em all together (to say I had done it), and then tried two of
'em as half-and-half, and then t'other two. Altogether, I passed a pleasin
evenin, but with a tendency to feel muddled, until I considered it good
manners to get up and say, "Mr. Chops, the best of friends must part, I
thank you for the wariety of foreign drains you have stood so 'ansome, I
looks towards you in red wine, and I takes my leave." Mr. Chops
replied, "If you'll just hitch me out of this over your right arm,
Magsman, and carry me down-stairs, I'll see you out." I said I couldn't
think of such a thing, but he would have it, so I lifted him off his throne.
He smelt strong of Maideary, and I couldn't help thinking as I carried
him down that it was like carrying a large bottle full of wine, with a
rayther ugly stopper, a good deal out of proportion.
When I set him on the door-mat in the hall, he kep me close to him by
holding on to my coat-collar, and he whispers:
"I ain't 'appy, Magsman."
"What's on your mind, Mr. Chops?"
"They don't use me well. They an't grateful to me. They puts me on the
mantel-piece when I won't have in more Champagne-wine, and they
locks me in the sideboard when I won't give up my property."
"Get rid of 'em, Mr. Chops."
"I can't. We're in Society together, and what would Society say?"
"Come out of Society!" says I.
"I can't. You don't know what you're talking about. When you have
once gone into Society, you mustn't come out of it."
"Then if you'll excuse the freedom, Mr. Chops," were my remark,
shaking my head grave, "I think it's a pity you ever went in."

Mr. Chops shook that deep Ed of his, to a surprisin extent, and slapped
it half a dozen times with his hand, and with more Wice than I thought
were in him. Then, he says, "You're a good fellow, but you don't
understand. Good-night, go along. Magsman, the little man will now
walk three times round the Cairawan, and retire behind the curtain."
The last I see of him on that occasion was his tryin, on the extremest
werge of insensibility, to climb up the stairs, one by one, with his hands
and knees. They'd have been much too steep for him, if he had been
sober; but he wouldn't be helped.
It warn't long after that, that I read in the newspaper of Mr. Chops's
being presented at court. It was printed, "It will be recollected"--and
I've noticed in my life, that it is sure to be printed that it WILL be
recollected, whenever it won't--"that Mr. Chops is the individual of
small stature, whose brilliant success in the last State Lottery attracted
so much attention." Well, I says to myself, Such is Life! He has been
and done it in earnest at last. He has astonished George the Fourth!
(On account of which, I had that canvass new-painted, him with a bag
of money in his hand, a presentin it to George the Fourth, and a lady in
Ostrich Feathers fallin in love with him in a bag-wig, sword, and
buckles