CHAP. VIII.

At this moment a whiskey stopped at the gate, and a servant presented a card of polite inquiry from Mr. and Mrs. Henpeck, the latter of whom had taken the reins from a little snuffy ruby nosed man, of crimson countenance; and my uncle, putting on his gold-laced nondescript hat, went out to speak to them, requesting me to follow him.

After a score of “how-d’ye-does,” and shaking hands so violently, I thought they’d have either pulled my uncle into the chaise, or he pulled the little man out, “Is that there gentleman your nevee, Mr. Tweazy?” said the lady, screwing up her eyes, and confidently peering in my face.

“Yes, that’s Victor St. Alban, sure enough,” replied my uncle.

“Sir,” continued the lady, dragging up her yellow colloppy throat with an extra stretch, “I shall be proud to see you at my house. Mr. Henpeck, my love, why don’t you tell the gentleman so: any friend of Mr. Tweazy must be agreeable to you, while they are so to me.”

“I was just going to ask the gentleman’s company,” answered the man, whom necessity compelled to like every thing his wife did: “I’m sure I shall be very happy to entertain him the best in my power.”

“Our power, my lovey, you mean: recollect, you’re not a bachelor now; and therefore, Mr. Henpeck, my dear, you should say we,”—replied Madam Xantippe.

“I stand corrected, my dear,” answered her supple slave.

“No, you don’t,” cried my uncle; “you sit corrected: so, take my advice; alight a few minutes, and take a walk round my garden; I want to shew you my melon bed, and give you a little fruit.”

Mr. Henpeck cast a wistful look at his rib for her kind permission; who instantly answered, “He must not touch fruit for the world, nor walk upon the grass for fear of cold; for Doctor Tonic had ordered him a peculiar regiment; and therefore, as his wife and nurse, she could not suffer him to get out of the chaise.”

“Well, well! my love, I’ll do just as you please, deary.”

“Aye, to be sure,” said Mrs. Henpeck: then drawing up her reins, she wished us good-morning; observing, she should send us a card in the evening; and flogging up the old horse, who seemed as compliant to her lash as his master, they were soon out of sight.

“Heavens protect me,” exclaimed my uncle. “See what you’re to come to; prepare for Master Hymen’s trammels. Poor Henpeck! I wish to God I could inspire him with a proper portion of spirit to counteract the tyranny of his despotic wife: he’s a man of very genteel property, and very clever in his business; and might have died, as he lived, a happy bachelor, hadn’t the charms (personal or mental, I cannot define which) of the fascinating Widow Would-a-more captivated his invulnerable heart, and vanquished all his neutral determination of leading a life of celibacy; and therefore, by the widow’s persuasions, he metamorphosed himself into that happy being he calls a husband; for, blessed with so sweet, so engaging a wife as Xantippe Henpeck, how can he be otherwise! But, however, I’ll treat you with a specimen of their ways and manners, by accepting their invitation; where you will find a hospitable board, and every thing in precise style; for Mrs. Henpeck rules over every concern, from the attic to the basement; in which department her loving husband never interferes, and knows no more of his household concerns, and the necessaries or unnecessaries of his family, than he does how many feathers compose his pillow: all he has to do is to supply his wife with plenty of the threadneedle rags, of which she well knew there was no want when she condescended to bestow her hand where her interest best directed such a sacrifice, and thereby dubbed Mr. Henpeck the happiest of men. But you shall judge, Victor, for yourself.”

My uncle’s watch now reminded us it was time to retire, and dress for Dr. Tonic’s dinner party, who, dining, as he observed, at the unfashionable hour of three, did not allow us much time to adorn for conquest, as my uncle styled it; who, jocosely touching my elbow as we walked side by side up the spacious staircase to our respective dressing-rooms, observed, if I had but the happy invention of tying my neckcloth in some peculiar mode, totally different to the rest of the world, I should be as immortalized as Shakespeare’s mulberry-tree, and set the village fashion for the remainder of the year. “I’ll allow you also,” continued he, “to bounce and stretch a little in every point where your discretion may point out a retributive attack: you must therefore consider yourself at a masquerade, and make your consonant repartees accordingly; for, I assure you, you will find a most motley group of the “Would-be-greats” and the “What-we-ares,” but not many of the “What-we-have-beens;” because it’s not the fashion to analyze genealogy in the present day. Exert your energies, and let the whole squad see you’re my own boy Victor, and not a mushroom raised from a dunghill by the powerful sunshine of fortune. You comprehend me, I’m sure.”

We now separated, and, in about half an hour, met again, each equipped, and ready to start for our engagement.

My uncle now surveyed me from head to foot; for, having paid some attention to his wishes, I had arranged my hair in a few peculiar turns, and tied my neckcloth in a very smart full rose, which I had taken no little pains to crimp up into due form, twisting the ends, in the similitude of a plat, round my neck: this, with the eccentricity of my quizzing-glass hung round my neck with a purple ribbon, and immense broad ribbons in my shoes, I stood before him, in my own idea, a perfect Bond-street puppy!

“Have I properly obeyed your orders, Sir?” asked I.

“Exactly,” replied he; “you have conjured that tippy bow under your chin in curious style.”

I could not forbear smiling, for my soul, at the contrast we made, as I regarded his neckcloth, which, in the perversity of the antique style, hung, in two dangling ends, to the bottom of his waistcoat, which, with the addition of his gold-laced hat and ancestorial cane, equipped him in his style, which none presumed to imitate, nor did I dare reprove, wisely considering the adage of “Prithee, Tom-fool,” &c.