Mudfog and Other Sketches | Page 3

as it was, however, die he did, without taking the
slightest notice of the corporation; and the corporation were
imperatively called upon to elect his successor. So, they met for the
purpose; and being very full of Nicholas Tulrumble just then, and
Nicholas Tulrumble being a very important man, they elected him, and

wrote off to London by the very next post to acquaint Nicholas
Tulrumble with his new elevation.
Now, it being November time, and Mr. Nicholas Tulrumble being in
the capital, it fell out that he was present at the Lord Mayor's show and
dinner, at sight of the glory and splendour whereof, he, Mr. Tulrumble,
was greatly mortified, inasmuch as the reflection would force itself on
his mind, that, had he been born in London instead of in Mudfog, he
might have been a Lord Mayor too, and have patronized the judges, and
been affable to the Lord Chancellor, and friendly with the Premier, and
coldly condescending to the Secretary to the Treasury, and have dined
with a flag behind his back, and done a great many other acts and deeds
which unto Lord Mayors of London peculiarly appertain. The more he
thought of the Lord Mayor, the more enviable a personage he seemed.
To be a King was all very well; but what was the King to the Lord
Mayor! When the King made a speech, everybody knew it was
somebody else's writing; whereas here was the Lord Mayor, talking
away for half an hour-all out of his own head--amidst the enthusiastic
applause of the whole company, while it was notorious that the King
might talk to his parliament till he was black in the face without getting
so much as a single cheer. As all these reflections passed through the
mind of Mr. Nicholas Tulrumble, the Lord Mayor of London appeared
to him the greatest sovereign on the face of the earth, beating the
Emperor of Russia all to nothing, and leaving the Great Mogul
immeasurably behind.
Mr. Nicholas Tulrumble was pondering over these things, and inwardly
cursing the fate which had pitched his coal-shed in Mudfog, when the
letter of the corporation was put into his hand. A crimson flush mantled
over his face as he read it, for visions of brightness were already
dancing before his imagination.
'My dear,' said Mr. Tulrumble to his wife, 'they have elected me, Mayor
of Mudfog.'
'Lor-a-mussy!' said Mrs. Tulrumble: 'why what's become of old
Sniggs?'
'The late Mr. Sniggs, Mrs. Tulrumble,' said Mr. Tulrumble sharply, for
he by no means approved of the notion of unceremoniously designating
a gentleman who filled the high office of Mayor, as 'Old Sniggs,'--'The
late Mr. Sniggs, Mrs. Tulrumble, is dead.'

The communication was very unexpected; but Mrs. Tulrumble only
ejaculated 'Lor-a-mussy!' once again, as if a Mayor were a mere
ordinary Christian, at which Mr. Tulrumble frowned gloomily.
'What a pity 'tan't in London, ain't it?' said Mrs. Tulrumble, after a short
pause; 'what a pity 'tan't in London, where you might have had a show.'
'I MIGHT have a show in Mudfog, if I thought proper, I apprehend,'
said Mr. Tulrumble mysteriously.
'Lor! so you might, I declare,' replied Mrs. Tulrumble.
'And a good one too,' said Mr. Tulrumble.
'Delightful!' exclaimed Mrs. Tulrumble.
'One which would rather astonish the ignorant people down there,' said
Mr. Tulrumble.
'It would kill them with envy,' said Mrs. Tulrumble.
So it was agreed that his Majesty's lieges in Mudfog should be
astonished with splendour, and slaughtered with envy, and that such a
show should take place as had never been seen in that town, or in any
other town before,--no, not even in London itself.
On the very next day after the receipt of the letter, down came the tall
postilion in a post-chaise,--not upon one of the horses, but
inside--actually inside the chaise,--and, driving up to the very door of
the town-hall, where the corporation were assembled, delivered a letter,
written by the Lord knows who, and signed by Nicholas Tulrumble, in
which Nicholas said, all through four sides of closely-written,
gilt-edged, hot-pressed, Bath post letter paper, that he responded to the
call of his fellow-townsmen with feelings of heartfelt delight; that he
accepted the arduous office which their confidence had imposed upon
him; that they would never find him shrinking from the discharge of his
duty; that he would endeavour to execute his functions with all that
dignity which their magnitude and importance demanded; and a great
deal more to the same effect. But even this was not all. The tall
postilion produced from his right-hand top-boot, a damp copy of that
afternoon's number of the county paper; and there, in large type,
running the whole length of the very first column, was a long address
from Nicholas Tulrumble to the inhabitants of