The Lamplighter | Page 8

"and everything else in
proportion."
'"Why don't you throw him away?" says Tom. "What do you keep such unpleasant things
here for?"
'"Throw him away!" cries the old gentleman. "We use him constantly in astrology. He's a
charm."
'"I shouldn't have thought it," says Tom, "from his appearance. MUST you go, I say?"
'The old gentleman makes him no answer, but climbs up the ladder in a greater bustle
than ever. Tom looked after his legs till there was nothing of him left, and then sat down
to wait; feeling (so he used to say) as comfortable as if he was going to be made a
freemason, and they were heating the pokers.
'Tom waited so long, gentlemen, that he began to think it must be getting on for midnight
at least, and felt more dismal and lonely than ever he had done in all his life. He tried
every means of whiling away the time, but it never had seemed to move so slow. First, he
took a nearer view of the child with three heads, and thought what a comfort it must have
been to his parents. Then he looked up a long telescope which was pointed out of the
window, but saw nothing particular, in consequence of the stopper being on at the other
end. Then he came to a skeleton in a glass case, labelled, "Skeleton of a Gentleman -
prepared by Mr. Mooney," - which made him hope that Mr. Mooney might not be in the
habit of preparing gentlemen that way without their own consent. A hundred times, at
least, he looked into the pot where they were boiling the philosopher's stone down to the
proper consistency, and wondered whether it was nearly done. "When it is," thinks Tom,
"I'll send out for six-penn'orth of sprats, and turn 'em into gold fish for a first
experiment." Besides which, he made up his mind, gentlemen, to have a country-house
and a park; and to plant a bit of it with a double row of gas-lamps a mile long, and go out
every night with a French-polished mahogany ladder, and two servants in livery behind
him, to light 'em for his own pleasure.
'At length and at last, the old gentleman's legs appeared upon the steps leading through
the roof, and he came slowly down: bringing along with him, the gifted Mooney. This
Mooney, gentlemen, was even more scientific in appearance than his friend; and had, as
Tom often declared upon his word and honour, the dirtiest face we can possibly know of,
in this imperfect state of existence.

'Gentlemen, you are all aware that if a scientific man isn't absent in his mind, he's of no
good at all. Mr. Mooney was so absent, that when the old gentleman said to him, "Shake
hands with Mr. Grig," he put out his leg. "Here's a mind, Mr. Grig!" cries the old
gentleman in a rapture. "Here's philosophy! Here's rumination! Don't disturb him," he
says, "for this is amazing!"
'Tom had no wish to disturb him, having nothing particular to say; but he was so
uncommonly amazing, that the old gentleman got impatient, and determined to give him
an electric shock to bring him to - "for you must know, Mr. Grig," he says, "that we
always keep a strongly charged battery, ready for that purpose." These means being
resorted to, gentlemen, the gifted Mooney revived with a loud roar, and he no sooner
came to himself than both he and the old gentleman looked at Tom with compassion, and
shed tears abundantly.
'"My dear friend," says the old gentleman to the Gifted, "prepare him."
'"I say," cries Tom, falling back, "none of that, you know. No preparing by Mr. Mooney
if you please."
'"Alas!" replies the old gentleman, "you don't understand us. My friend, inform him of his
fate. - I can't."
'The Gifted mustered up his voice, after many efforts, and informed Tom that his nativity
had been carefully cast, and he would expire at exactly thirty-five minutes, twenty-seven
seconds, and five- sixths of a second past nine o'clock, a.m., on that day two months.
'Gentlemen, I leave you to judge what were Tom's feelings at this announcement, on the
eve of matrimony and endless riches. "I think," he says in a trembling voice, "there must
be a mistake in the working of that sum. Will you do me the favour to cast it up again?" -
"There is no mistake," replies the old gentleman, "it is confirmed by Francis Moore,
Physician. Here is the prediction for to-morrow two months." And he showed him the
page, where sure enough were these words - "The decease of a great person may be
looked for, about this time."
'"Which," says the old gentleman, "is clearly you, Mr. Grig."