The Wolves and the Lamb | Page 4

writing is!
Times, Chronicle, Daily News, they're all good, blest if they ain't. How
much better the nine leaders in them three daily papers is, than nine
speeches in the House of Commons! Take a very best speech in the
'Ouse now, and compare it with an article in The Times! I say, the
newspaper has the best of it for philosophy, for wit, novelty, good
sense too. And the party that writes the leading article is nobody, and
the chap that speaks in the House of Commons is a hero. Lord, Lord,
how the world is 'umbugged! Pop'lar representation! what IS pop'lar
representation? Dammy, it's a farce. Hallo! this article is stole! I
remember a passage in Montesquieu uncommonly like it. [Goes and
gets the book. As he is standing upon sofa to get it, and sitting down to
read it, MISS PRIOR and the Children have come in at the garden.
Children pass across stage. MISS PRIOR enters by open window,
bringing flowers into the room.]
JOHN.--It IS like it. [He slaps the book, and seeing MISS PRIOR who

enters, then jumps up from sofa, saying very respectfully,]
JOHN.--I beg your pardon, Miss.
MISS P.--[sarcastically.] Do I disturb you, Howell?
JOHN.--Disturb! I have no right to say--a servant has no right to be
disturbed, but I hope I may be pardoned for venturing to look at a
volume in the libery, Miss, just in reference to a newspaper
harticle--that's all, Miss.
MISS P.--You are very fortunate in finding anything to interest you in
the paper, I'm sure.
JOHN.--Perhaps, Miss, you are not accustomed to political discussion,
and ignorant of--ah--I beg your pardon: a servant, I know, has no right
to speak. [Exit into dining-room, making a low bow.]
MISS PRIOR.--The coolness of some people is really quite
extraordinary! the airs they give themselves, the way in which they
answer one, the books they read! Montesquieu: "Esprit des Lois!"
[takes book up which J. has left on sofa.] I believe the man has actually
taken this from the shelf. I am sure Mr. Milliken, or her ladyship, never
would. The other day "Helvetius" was found in Mr. Howell's pantry,
forsooth! It is wonderful how he picked up French whilst we were
abroad. "Esprit des Lois!" what is it? it must be dreadfully stupid. And
as for reading "Helvetius" (who, I suppose, was a Roman general), I
really can't understand how-- Dear, dear! what airs these persons give
themselves! What will come next? A footman--I beg Mr. Howell's
pardon--a butler and confidential valet lolls on the drawing-room sofa,
and reads Montesquieu! Impudence! And add to this, he follows me for
the last two or three months with eyes that are quite horrid. What can
the creature mean? But I forgot--I am only a governess. A governess is
not a lady--a governess is but a servant--a governess is to work and
walk all day with the children, dine in the school-room, and come to
the drawing-room to play the man of the house to sleep. A governess is
a domestic, only her place is not the servants' hall, and she is paid not
quite so well as the butler who serves her her glass of wine. Odious!
George! Arabella! there are those little wretches quarrelling again!
[Exit. Children are heard calling out, and seen quarrelling in garden.]
JOHN [re-entering].--See where she moves! grace is in all her steps.
'Eaven in her high--no--a-heaven in her heye, in every gesture dignity
and love--ah, I wish I could say it! I wish you may procure it, poor fool!

She passes by me--she tr-r-amples on me. Here's the chair she sets in
[kisses it.] Here's the piano she plays on. Pretty keys, them fingers
out-hivories you! When she plays on it, I stand and listen at the
drawing-room door, and my heart thr-obs in time! Fool, fool, fool! why
did you look on her, John Howell! why did you beat for her, busy heart!
You were tranquil till you knew her! I thought I could have been
a-happy with Mary till then. That girl's affection soothed me. Her
conversation didn't amuse me much, her ideers ain't exactly elevated,
but they are just and proper. Her attentions pleased me. She ever kep'
the best cup of tea for me. She crisped my buttered toast, or mixed my
quiet tumbler for me, as I sat of hevenings and read my newspaper in
the kitching. She respected the sanctaty of my pantry. When I was
a-studying there, she never interrupted me. She darned my stockings
for me, she starched and folded my chokers, and she sowed on the
habsent buttons of which time and chance had bereft my linning. She
has a good heart, Mary has. I know she'd get up and black the boots for
me of the coldest