I 



1829.] C 517 ] 



THE MARCH OF MIND: A TALE OF CBUTCHED-FIIIARS. 



Mr. Job Spimkins, grocer and vestryman of Crutclied-Friars, was a 

 stout, easy, good-natured, middle-aged gentleman, who — to adopt a 

 mercantile phrase — was " well to do in the world," and had long borne 

 an exemplary character throughout his ward for sobriety, punctuality, 

 civility, and all those homely but well-wearing qualities which we 

 are apt to associate with trade. Punctuality, however, was the one 

 leading feature of his mind, which he carried to so extravagant a height, 

 that having formed a scale of moral duties, he had placed it in the very 

 front rank, side by side with lionesty — or tlie art of driving a good bar- 

 gain — and just two above temperance, soberness, and chastity. Even in 

 his social hours, this peculiar trait of character decided his predilections ; 

 for, notwithstanding he was much given to keeping up feasts and holi- 

 days, and had a high respect for J\Iichaelmas-Day, Christmas-Day, Twelfth- 

 Day, New- Year' s-Day, &c., yet he always expressed an indifferent 

 opinion of Easter, because, like an Irishman's pay-day, it was seldom or 

 never punctual. Next to this engrossing hobby was our citizen's abhor- 

 rence of poetry, an abhorrence which he extended with considerate 

 impartiality to every branch of literature. But Dr. Franklin's works 

 formed an exception. He pronounced his commercial maxims to be the 

 chefs-d'ceuvre of genius, and used to set them as large text-copies for his 

 son, when he and the school-bill came home together for the holidays 

 from Dr. ThickskuU's academy at Camberwell. But poetry — our pro- 

 saic citizen could not for the life of him abide it. The only good thing, 

 he used to say, he ever yet saw in verse was the Rule of Three ; and the 

 only rhymes that had the slightest reason to recommend them, were 

 " Thirty days hath September." 



To these opinions Mrs. Spimkins, like a dutiful wife, never failed to 

 respond Amen. In person this good lady was short and stoutly timbered, 

 with a face on which lay the full sunshine of prosperity, in one broad, 

 unvaried grin. Three children were her's : three '' dear, delightful chil- 

 dren," as their grandmother by the father's side never failed to declai'e, 

 when punctually, every New-Year's-Day, she presented them each 

 with a five-shilling-piece, wrapt up in gilt-edge note-paper. Thomas, 

 the eldest, was a slim, sickly youth, easy, conceited, and eighteen ; 

 Martha, the second, was a maiden of more sensibility than beauty ; 

 while Sophy, the youngest and sprighthest, to a considerable portion of 

 the maternal simper and the paternal circumference, added a fine expanse 

 of foot, which spreading out semicircularly, like a lady's fan, at the toes, 

 gave a peculiar weight and safety to her tread. 



The habits of this amiable family were to the full as unassuming as 

 their manners. They dined at one o'clock, with the exception of Sun- 

 days, when the discussion of the roast or boiled was, for fashion's sake, 

 adjourned to five ; took tea at six ; supped at nine ; and retired to rest 

 at ten. The Sabbatli, however, was a day not less of fashion tlian of 

 luxury. The young folks — Thomas, especially, who was growing, and 

 wanted nourishment — were then indulged with two glasses of port wine 

 after dinner; and, at tea-time, were made happy in the privilege of a 

 " blow out" with one or more friendly neighbours. Once every year 

 they went half-price to the Christmas pantomimes, a memorable epoch, 

 which never failed to deprive them of sleep, and disorganize their ner- 

 vous system for at least a fortnight beforehand. Such yere the habits 



