144 LIFE AND GENIUS OF GEORGE CRUTKSIIANK. 



brings her breakfast in bed " of a morning:" he retires at two, gets 

 up at four to make tea " for the Dorchester coach ;" withdraws again 

 for half an hour, and rises for the day at five. He never had a good 

 night's rest in his life. He takes a nap in the skittle-ground every 

 fine afternoon ; and sips the porter from every pot to which he is in- 

 vited, for the good of the house. He is not fat he is blown out 

 like a bad shoulder of veal. You might treat him as a caoutchouc 

 football with impunity. His wife thrashed him the night before last, 

 because she broke a cracked coffee-cup, and so spoiled her set. 



The miserable man who is " behind time," has been so all his 

 life. " Delay" is plainly written on his face ; it would form a good 

 frontispiece, aye, or even a title to Cogan's work " On the danger of 

 being dilatory." Like the \first Billy Pitt's coadjutor in office, the 

 trumpery Duke of Newcastle, he looks as though he lost half an hour 

 every morning of his life, and sweated like a calf broke loose from 

 his pen, throughout the day, in fruitless attempts to overtake it. His 

 wife yonder, the lady bustling up in the back ground (dragging a 

 child that inherits the virtues of papa and mamma, and is and ever will 

 be eminently behind-hand), beats him hollow in the difficult art of 

 doing nothing. She has pushed him forward as a picquet ; her de- 

 spair is visible ; still she has hopes, or she would not hurry and drive 

 and drag on the brat at that rate ; for she knows that lazy people 

 and this is their eventual ruin often are lucky. They dine at five no- 

 minally, but dinner does not appear until half-past six or seven. They 

 are anxious to be aufait to the news, and they read yesterday's paper. 

 One of their mutual relatives for they are cousins sent to them on 

 his death-bed, stating how happy he should be if they would procure 

 him a few oranges. As they had great expectations from the old 

 gentleman, they sent him an entire chest three days after he had 

 died, having previously, by an energetic codicil, transferred their 

 legacy to Mrs. Sims, a lady who is honoured with their mortal de- 

 testation. The wife was the posthumous child of a rich and provi- 

 dent father, who unconscious of her future appearance in the world> 

 had divided at his decease the whole of his property among his 

 visible offspring. The husband was a twin ; but his mother's barony 

 and entailed estate descended to his elder brother, who contrived to 

 see the light three minutes before him. Should he ever obtain a re- 

 prieve, or a pardon for an innocent friend under sentence, he will 

 arrive with it at Debtors' door five-and-twenty minutes after the 

 supposed delinquent, on whose life depends the annuity on which he 

 exists, has been cut down and given over to his friends. When he 

 has an important appointment, and is scarcely in time, he meets with 

 Cross or Mrs. Lorimer. 



Then again there is the deaf postillion of " Three Courses and a 

 Dessert." Why the fellow has been deaf these twenty years. How 

 luckless are those two fond lovers who, when striving to outstrip the 

 speed of angry fathers, and uncles in uniform, trusted themselves 

 Joey Duddle to thy guidance ! Thou didst not hear the perch-bolt 

 of thy chaise snap thou didst not hear their screams thou trottest 

 on intent only on thy duty of " getting over the ground." Allow 



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