Melchiors Dream and Other Tales | Page 2

and was being educated at one of the
best public schools. He did not, it must be confessed, think either small
beer or small beans of himself; and as to the beer and beans that his

family thought of him, I think it was pale ale and kidney-beans at least.
Young Hopeful had, however, his weak points like the rest of us; and
perhaps one of the weakest was the difficulty he found in amusing
himself without bothering other people. He had quite a monomania for
proposing the most troublesome "larks" at the most inconvenient
moments; and if his plans were thwarted, an Æolian harp is cheerful
compared to the tone in which, arguing and lamenting, he
"Fought his battles o'er again,"
to the distraction of every occupied member of the household.
When the lords of the creation of all ages can find nothing else to do,
they generally take to eating and drinking; and so it came to pass that
our hero had set his mind upon brewing a jorum of punch, and sipping
it with an accompaniment of mince-pies; and Paterfamilias had not
been quietly settled to his writing for half-an-hour, when he was
disturbed by an application for the necessary ingredients. These he had
refused, quietly explaining that he could not afford to waste his French
brandy, etc., in school-boy cookery, and ending with, "You see the
reason, my dear boy?"
To which the dear boy replied as above, and concluded with the
disrespectful (not to say ungrateful) hint, "Old Brown never blows up
about that sort of thing; he likes Adolphus to enjoy himself in the
holidays."
Whereupon Paterfamilias made answer, in the mildly deprecating tone
in which the elder sometimes do answer the younger in these
topsy-turvy days:--
"That's quite a different case. Don't you see, my boy, that Adolphus
Brown is an only son, and you have nine brothers and sisters? If you
have punch and mince-meat to play with, there is no reason why Tom
should not have it, and James, and Edward, and William, and Benjamin,
and Jack. And then there are your sisters. Twice the amount of the
Browns' mince-meat would not serve you. I like you to enjoy yourself

in the holidays as much as young Brown or anybody; but you must
remember that I send you boys to good schools, and give you all the
substantial comforts and advantages in my power; and the Christmas
bills are very heavy, and I have a great many calls on my purse; and
you must be reasonable. Don't you see?"
"Well, father--" began the boy; but his father interrupted him. He knew
the unvarying beginning of a long grumble, and dreading the argument,
cut it short.
"I have decided. You must amuse yourself some other way. And just
remember that young Brown's is quite another case. He is an only son."
Whereupon Paterfamilias went off to his study and his sermon; and his
son, like the Princess in Andersen's story of the Swineherd, was left
outside to sing,
"O dearest Augustine, All's clean gone away!"
Not that he did say that--that was the princess' song--what he said was,
"_I wish I were an only son!_"
This was rather a vain wish, for round the dining-room fire (where he
soon joined them) were gathered his nine brothers and sisters, who, to
say the truth, were not looking much more lively and cheerful than he.
And yet (of all days in the year on which to be doleful and dissatisfied!)
this was Christmas Eve.
Now I know that the idea of dulness or discomfort at Christmas is a
very improper one, particularly in a story. We all know how every little
boy in a story-book spends the Christmas holidays.
First, there is the large hamper of good things sent by grandpapa, which
is as inexhaustible as Fortunatus's purse, and contains everything, from
a Norfolk turkey to grapes from the grandpaternal vinery.
There is the friend who gives a guinea to each member of the family,

and sees who will spend it best.
There are the godpapas and godmammas, who might almost be fairy
sponsors from the number of expensive gifts that they bring upon the
scene. The uncles and aunts are also liberal.
One night is devoted to a magic-lantern (which has a perfect focus),
another to the pantomime, a third to a celebrated conjuror, a fourth to a
Christmas tree and juvenile ball.
The happy youth makes himself sufficiently ill with plum-pudding, to
testify to the reader how good it was, and how much there was of it; but
recovers in time to fall a victim to the negus and trifle at supper for the
same reason. He is neither fatigued with late hours nor surfeited with
sweets; or if he is, we do not hear