MEN OF CHARACTER. JOB PIPPINS; THE MAN WHO "COULDN'T HELP IT." CHAPTER I. PUT away temptation from the heart, eyes, ears, and fingers of Job Pippins, and behold in him a model of self-government. Born an Esquimaux, we can answer for him, he had never yearned for grape-juice—blind, carnal beauty had never betrayed him-stone-deaf, he had given no ear to bland seductions-rich as a nabob, we are convinced he had never wished to pick a pocket. Superficial thinkers may call this negative goodness. Very well. Will they, at the same time, tell us how many men of character in this world of contradiction are made up of mere negatives? Here, Jenny, take away this foul black ink, vile compound of gall and acid, and bring us a honeycomb. And, Jenny, dear, relieve us of this last small handiwork of old Mulciber (that he who wrought mail for Achilles should now nib pens for stockbrokers!) and give us a feather, dropt from the wing of your pet ringdove. So; we are in a charitable mood; our heart opens-our sympathies begin to flow. We will indite the apologetic history of Job Pippins. Yes; it shall be to us a labour of love to turn ebony into ivory. At one-and-twenty Job Pippins being his own master, had little restraint to complain of. In truth, no mortal could be more indulgent to himself; no man more readily forgive, more speedily forget, the faults and follies of his own flesh. Sorry are we to say, the benevolent example was entirely lost upon the B world about him: for the first important incident of Job's life will show how, in the very fuluess of his hopes, he was driven from his native town-slander, like a mortal snake, hissing at his exiled heels. At once to begin our domestic tragedy of humble life. Sir Scipio Mannikin was the pearl of men. The purity of three maiden aunts was incarnated in a masculine tabernacle. Yes; in Sir Scipio a leash of spinsters lived again. Should sceptics doubt, let them read the printed wisdom of Mannikin at Quarter Sessions, and acknowledge the metempsychosis. Briefly; the most remarkable difference between the knight and any of the three immaculate maidens may be defined in one short word -shaving. Happy had it been for Job, had Sir Scipio shared in the same contempt of the operation with his lamented female relations ! Profoundly certain are we of the happiness-the calm, the complete joy of the young Lady Scipio Mannikin. How could it be otherwise? Thirty years younger than her husband, she could gather, in the spring of life, the golden fruits of autumn. Was she too vivacious?-Her wild sallies were checked and guided by the monitor of experience. Was her heart ever and anon about to run from her mouth ?-A look from Sir Scipio would freeze it at her lip. Did she talk idly of the beauties of this world?—Her moralising spouse would convince her that, saving his own estate and his own person, the whole earth was but one large dunghill, and the men and women miserable worms wriggling within it. Thus mated, we hear the silver voices of our female readers cry, "Happy, happy Lady Mannikin!" We are convinced that it was only a combination of the rarest accidents that filled the house of Sir Scipio with the choicest of all things: his very door hinges turned upon the fat of the land. He had the best cook-the rarest wines-the handsomest horses -the most superb wife. It is a pleasure to know this: it is a consolation to all who would look into the hearts of men, to find the temperate and the unworldly thus appointed: to see them thus providentially rewarded. You will hear a good, lowly creature sing the praises of pure water-call it the wine of Adam when he walked in Paradisewhen, somehow, fate has bestowed upon the eulogist the finest burgundy. He declares himself contented with a crust-although a beneficent fairy has hung a fat haunch or two in his larder. And then, for woman, he asks-what is all beauty but skin-deep? Behold the lawful bed-fellow of the querist: why, destiny has tied to him an angel-a perfect angel, save that for a time she has laid aside her wings. Now is it not delightful to see these humble folk, who tune their tongues to the honour of dry bread and water, compelled, by the gentle force of fortune, to chew venison and swallow claret ? 66 "A steady, respectable young man?" asked Sir Scipio of his butler, with a searching look. "They say, Sir Scipio, the lightest hand in the county." "A lad of morality?" "He skims a beard off like froth." "A dutiful son, and a peaceful neighbour?" "Lady Bag says he dresses hair like any mermaid." "He may come." threshold, and the Lares of However, weeks passed on, And Job Pippin was straightway summoned to shave Sir Scipio Mannikin! Job crossed the Mannikin Hall gave a feeble wail. and Job reaped new laurels with Sir Scipio's beard. Job's hand swept softly as the sweet south along the stubbled chin, and played like any butterfly about a peruke. That consummate genius should ever lack self-restraint! About this time a domestic accident occurred to Lady Scipioshe suddenly lost her maid. The girl had been found guilty or receiving a valentine, "a filthy thing," in the words of the knight, "with two hearts on one arrow, a couple of disgusting pigeons at the top, and loathsome love-verses at the bottom. A person who could receive such things, was not fit to be about Lady Scipio." Kitty White-to the sorrow of her mistresswas thrust from Mannikin Hall. And what is most extraordinary, the poor girl-albeit her suspicions fell upon two or three -could not, to her dying hour, precisely determine who had ruined her. Indignant virtue is ever heedless of worldly consequences; otherwise Sir Scipio had retained the delinquent for at least another day; for Kitty was wont to raise to herself a crown of glory in the hair of her mistress, which she displayed with a taste only inferior to that of the superb Pippins himself. Now it so happened, that the day following the departure of the wanton maid, was the day appointed by Sir Scipio for a solemn festival to the stomachs of the heads of the neighbouring clergy. For a week past, two turtles in the kitchen of the knight, had lain upon their backs, resignedly awaiting the destroyer. Out of pure respect to his guests, Sir Scipio wished his lady to appear in all her brightness. It was provoking that the guilt of Kitty had not remained unknown until after the feast! There was no remedy; for once, at most, the tresses of Lady Scipio must fall into a masculine hand. Yes; Job Pippins-(again the Lares squeaked, and shuddered,)-must dress the hair of Lady Mannikin! Now, in those days, ladies wore powder. |