Mrs Caudles Curtain Lectures | Page 3

it
was, she was dead and decently interred. His mind--it was a comfort to
know it--could not wander on this point; this he knew. Nevertheless,
his wife was with him. The Ghost of her Tongue still talked as in the
life; and again and again did Job Caudle hear the monitions of bygone
years. At times, so loud, so lively, so real were the sounds, that Job,
with a cold chill, doubted if he were really widowed. And then, with
the movement of an arm, a foot, he would assure himself that he was
alone in his holland. Nevertheless, the talk continued. It was terrible to
be thus haunted by a voice: to have advice, commands, remonstrance,
all sorts of saws and adages still poured upon him, and no visible wife.
Now did the voice speak from the curtains; now from the tester; and
now did it whisper to Job from the very pillow that he pressed. "It's a
dreadful thing that her tongue should walk in this manner," said Job,
and then he thought confusedly of exorcism, or at least of counsel from
the parish priest.
Whether Job followed his own brain, or the wise direction of another,
we know not. But he resolved every night to commit to paper one
curtain lecture of his late wife. The employment would, possibly, lay

the ghost that haunted him. It was her dear tongue that cried for justice,
and when thus satisfied, it might possibly rest in quiet. And so it
happened. Job faithfully chronicled all his late wife's lectures; the ghost
of her tongue was thenceforth silent, and Job slept all his after nights in
peace.
When Job died, a small packet of papers was found inscribed as
follows:-
"Curtain Lectures delivered in the course of Thirty Years by Mrs.
Margaret Caudle, and suffered by Job, her Husband."
That Mr. Caudle had his eye upon the future printer, is made pretty
probable by the fact that in most places he had affixed the text-- such
text for the most part arising out of his own daily conduct--to the
lecture of the night. He had also, with an instinctive knowledge of the
dignity of literature, left a bank-note of very fair amount with the
manuscript. Following our duty as editor, we trust we have done justice
to both documents.

LECTURE I--MR. CAUDLE HAS LENT FIVE POUNDS TO A
FRIEND

"You ought to be very rich, Mr. Caudle. I wonder who'd lend you five
pounds? But so it is: a wife may work and may slave! Ha, dear! the
many things that might have been done with five pounds. As if people
picked up money in the street! But you always were a fool, Mr. Caudle!
I've wanted a black satin gown these three years, and that five pounds
would have entirely bought it. But it's no matter how I go,--not at all.
Everybody says I don't dress as becomes your wife-- and I don't; but
what's that to you, Mr. Caudle? Nothing. Oh, no! you can have fine
feelings for everybody but those belonging to you. I wish people knew
you, as I do--that's all. You like to be called liberal--and your poor
family pays for it.

"All the girls want bonnets, and where they're to come from I can't tell.
Half five pounds would have bought 'em--but now they must go
without. Of course, THEY belong to you: and anybody but your own
flesh and body, Mr. Caudle!
"The man called for the water-rate to-day; but I should like to know
how people are to pay taxes, who throw away five pounds to every
fellow that asks them?
"Perhaps you don't know that Jack, this morning, knocked his
shuttlecock through his bedroom window. I was going to send for the
glazier to mend it; but after you lent that five pounds I was sure we
couldn't afford it. Oh, no! the window must go as it is; and pretty
weather for a dear child to sleep with a broken window. He's got a cold
already on his lungs, and I shouldn't at all wonder if that broken
window settled him. If the dear boy dies, his death will be upon his
father's head; for I'm sure we can't now pay to mend windows. We
might though, and do a good many more things too, if people didn't
throw away their five pounds.
"Next Tuesday the fire-insurance is due. I should like to know how it's
to be paid? Why, it can't be paid at all! That five pounds would have
more than done it--and now, insurance is out of the question. And there
never were so many fires as there are now. I shall never close my eyes
all night,--but what's that to you, so people can call you liberal,