The Yellowplush Papers | Page 5

course, a pretty little sum of money. A
thousand pound was settled on her; and she was as high and mighty as
if it had been a millium.
Buckmaster died, leaving nothink; nothink except four ugly daughters
by Miss Slamcoe: and her forty pound a year was rayther a narrow
income for one of her appytite and pretensions. In an unlucky hour for
Shum she met him. He was a widower with a little daughter of three
years old, a little house at Pentonwille, and a little income about as big
as her own. I believe she bullyd the poor creature into marridge; and it
was agreed that he should let his ground-floor at John Street, and so
add somethink to their means.
They married; and the widow Buckmaster was the gray mare, I can tell
you. She was always talking and blustering about her famly, the
celebrity of the Buckmasters, and the antickety of the Slamcoes. They
had a six-roomed house (not counting kitching and sculry), and now
twelve daughters in all; whizz.--4 Miss Buckmasters: Miss Betsy, Miss
Dosy, Miss Biddy, and Miss Winny; 1 Miss Shum, Mary by name,
Shum's daughter, and seven others, who shall be nameless. Mrs. Shum

was a fat, red-haired woman, at least a foot taller than S.; who was but
a yard and a half high, pale- faced, red-nosed, knock-kneed,
bald-headed, his nose and shut-frill all brown with snuff.
Before the house was a little garden, where the washin of the famly was
all ways hanging. There was so many of 'em that it was obliged to be
done by relays. There was six rails and a stocking on each, and four
small goosbry bushes, always covered with some bit of linning or other.
The hall was a regular puddle: wet dabs of dishclouts flapped in your
face; soapy smoking bits of flanning went nigh to choke you; and while
you were looking up to prevent hanging yourself with the ropes which
were strung across and about, slap came the hedge of a pail against
your shins, till one was like to be drove mad with hagony. The great
slattnly doddling girls was always on the stairs, poking about with
nasty flower-pots, a- cooking something, or sprawling in the
window-seats with greasy curl-papers, reading greasy novels. An
infernal pianna was jingling from morning till night--two eldest Miss
Buckmasters, "Battle of Prag"--six youngest Miss Shums, "In my
Cottage," till I knew every note in the "Battle of Prag," and cussed the
day when "In my Cottage" was rote. The younger girls, too, were
always bouncing and thumping about the house, with torn pinnyfores,
and dogs-eard grammars, and large pieces of bread and treacle. I never
see such a house.
As for Mrs. Shum, she was such a fine lady, that she did nothink but
lay on the drawing-room sophy, read novels, drink, scold, scream, and
go into hystarrix. Little Shum kep reading an old newspaper from
weeks' end to weeks' end, when he was not engaged in teaching the
children, or goin for the beer, or cleanin the shoes: for they kep no
servant. This house in John Street was in short a regular Pandymony.
What could have brought Mr. Frederic Altamont to dwell in such a
place? The reason is hobvius: he adoared the fust Miss Shum.
And suttnly he did not show a bad taste; for though the other daughters
were as ugly as their hideous ma, Mary Shum was a pretty little pink,
modest creatur, with glossy black hair and tender blue eyes, and a neck
as white as plaster of Parish. She wore a dismal old black gownd,
which had grown too short for her, and too tight; but it only served to
show her pretty angles and feet, and bewchus figger. Master, though he
had looked rather low for the gal of his art, had certainly looked in the

right place. Never was one more pretty or more hamiable. I gav her
always the buttered toast left from our brexfust, and a cup of tea or
chocklate, as Altamont might fancy: and the poor thing was glad
enough of it, I can vouch; for they had precious short commons up
stairs, and she the least of all.
For it seemed as if which of the Shum famly should try to snub the
poor thing most. There was the four Buckmaster girls always at her. It
was, Mary, git the coal-skittle; Mary, run down to the public-house for
the beer; Mary, I intend to wear your clean stockens out walking, or
your new bonnet to church. Only her poor father was kind to her; and
he, poor old muff! his kindness was of no use. Mary bore all the
scolding like a hangel, as she was: no, not if she had a