We who lived before railways, and survive out of the ancient world, are like Father Noah and his family out of the Ark.The children will gather round and say to us patriarchs, "Tell us, grandpapa, about the old world." And we shall mumble our old stories; and we shall drop off one by one; and there will be fewer and fewer of us, and these very old and feeble.There will be but ten praerailroadites left: then three then two--then one--then 0! If the hippopotamus had the least sensibility (of which I cannot trace any signs either in his hide or his face), I think he would go down to the bottom of his tank, and never come up again.Does he not see that he belongs to bygone ages, and that his great hulking barrel of a body is out of place in these times? What has he in common with the brisk young life surrounding him? In the watches of the night, when the keepers are asleep, when the birds are on one leg, when even the little armadillo is quiet, and the monkeys have ceased their chatter,--he, I mean the hippopotamus, and the elephant, and the long-necked giraffe, perhaps may lay their heads together and have a colloquy about the great silent antediluvian world which they remember, where mighty monsters floundered through the ooze, crocodiles basked on the banks, and dragons darted out of the caves and waters before men were made to slay them.We who lived before railways are antediluvians--we must pass away.We are growing scarcer every day;and old--old--very old relicts of the times when George was still fighting the Dragon.
Not long since, a company of horse-riders paid a visit to our watering-place.We went to see them, and I bethought me that young Walter Juvenis, who was in the place, might like also to witness the performance.A pantomime is not always amusing to persons who have attained a certain age; but a boy at a pantomime is always amused and amusing, and to see his pleasure is good for most hypochondriacs.
We sent to Walter's mother, requesting that he might join us, and the kind lady replied that the boy had already been at the morning performance of the equestrians, but was most eager to go in the evening likewise.And go he did; and laughed at all Mr.Merryman's remarks, though he remembered them with remarkable accuracy, and insisted upon waiting to the very end of the fun, and was only induced to retire just before its conclusion by representations that the ladies of the party would be incommoded if they were to wait and undergo the rush and trample of the crowd round about.When this fact was pointed out to him, he yielded at once, though with a heavy heart, his eyes looking longingly towards the ring as we retreated out of the booth.We were scarcely clear of the place, when we heard "God save the Queen," played by the equestrian band, the signal that all was over.Our companion entertained us with scraps of the dialogue on our way home--precious crumbs of wit which he had brought away from that feast.He laughed over them again as we walked under the stars.He has them now, and takes them out of the pocket of his memory, and crunches a bit, and relishes it with a sentimental tenderness, too, for he is, no doubt, back at school by this time; the holidays are over; and Doctor Birch's young friends have reassembled.
Queer jokes, which caused a thousand simple mouths to grin! As the jaded Merryman uttered them to the old gentleman with the whip, some of the old folks in the audience, I dare say, indulged in reflections of their own.There was one joke--I utterly forget it--but it began with Merryman saying what he had for dinner.He had mutton for dinner, at one o'clock, after which "he had to COME TOBUSINESS." And then came the point.Walter Juvenis, Esq., Rev.
Doctor Birch's, Market Rodborough, if you read this, will you please send me a line, and let me know what was the joke Mr.Merryman made about having his dinner? YOU remember well enough.But do I want to know? Suppose a boy takes a favorite, long-cherished lump of cake out of his pocket, and offers you a bite? Merci! The fact is, I DON'T care much about knowing that joke of Mr.Merryman's.
But whilst he was talking about his dinner, and his mutton, and his landlord, and his business, I felt a great interest about Mr.M.in private life--about his wife, lodgings, earnings, and general history, and I dare say was forming a picture of those in my mind--wife cooking the mutton: children waiting for it; Merryman in his plain clothes, and so forth; during which contemplation the joke was uttered and laughed at, and Mr.M., resuming his professional duties, was tumbling over head and heels.Do not suppose I am going, sicut est mos, to indulge in moralities about buffoons, paint, motley, and mountebanking.Nay, Prime Ministers rehearse their jokes; Opposition leaders prepare and polish them; Tabernacle preachers must arrange them in their minds before they utter them.
All I mean is, that I would like to know any one of these performers thoroughly, and out of his uniform: that preacher, and why in his travels this and that point struck him; wherein lies his power of pathos, humor, eloquence;--that Minister of State, and what moves him, and how his private heart is working;--I would only say that, at a certain time of life certain things cease to interest: but about SOME things when we cease to care, what will be the use of life, sight, hearing? Poems are written, and we cease to admire.
