IN TWO PARTS.

PART I.—SUNSHINE.

CHAPTER I.—ISAAC WEBB.

Isaac Webb was twenty-four years of age. He was very tall, very thin, and very pale; on the whole, his appearance was not prepossessing. To these outward gifts might be added two inward ruling passions—love of self and love of money. It may be taken that the one was as powerful as the other. Some people said that he loved Isaac Webb more than the root of all evil; others, that he loved the said root more than the said Isaac Webb: the point was never decided, so they may be bracketed equal. But he had some good points, as every one has. In the first place, he was by no means of a suspicious or jealous turn of mind. This may have proceeded from the great confidence he had in his own judgment; for he thought himself a very shrewd fellow, a very deep dog. 'You're not to be easily bowled over, Isaac,' he would say to himself very often, rubbing his hands; 'and if anybody thinks he can snuff you out, let him try it on, and burn his fingers—ha, ha!' Such were Isaac's modest reflections on his own sagacity.

Another point to be scored to him was his abstemiousness. But certain uncharitable people ascribed even this to a second motive. 'For,' said they, 'he don't eat much because of the economy of the thing; and he does not drink anything except water, not because he's pledged to it, or because stronger drink don't agree with him, for why does he make up for it when he can do it at somebody else's expense?' This is what they said, and it certainly was rude of them to make such remarks; but it must be admitted that Isaac did not despise the creature comforts of this life when he did not have to stand treat to himself. Now it is impossible to account for this fact; he could not himself—never even attempted it. He had many other little peculiarities and traits of character, but they only revolved as minor worlds around the great suns above specified.

Isaac Webb was an orphan; that is to say his father had died when our hero was yet in his infancy; and his mother feeling her first husband's loss to be so deplorable, had joined herself unto another, and had emigrated with that gentleman to Australia when Isaac was about thirteen years old, leaving that worthy youth to the care of her half-brother, who in his turn had departed this mortal life about a year previous to the opening of this story, leaving its hero entirely to his own devices. He had a few other relatives scattered about the country, but none on whom he bestowed more than a passing remembrance. In the first place it was cheaper, for he had nothing to expect from them; and in the second, he did not want them, nor did they want him.

His visible means of subsistence were derived from the rents accruing from a whole nest of cottages situated in the country town near which he resided, together with a few good-sized parcels of garden-ground and sundry other 'effects,' including about a thousand pounds in ready-money put out at interest, but on which he could lay his hand whenever he thought proper. Altogether his net income (after deducting a decent amount for repairs, tenants who travelled by night unexpectedly, and other casualties) amounted to about two hundred and fifty pounds a year; and on this sum he had boarded, lodged, and clothed himself since he came of age, and had contrived out of it to put by a very pretty slice as well.

His place of habitation consisted of two small rooms over a little grocer's shop at Dambourne End in Southshire, about a mile distant from the town of Dambourne, in which place his patrimony was situated. He was engaged in no business, though fully appreciative of the L. S. D. side of the question, but considered that his interests and fortunes were bound up in the cottages and garden-ground, and that he should be leaving the substance and grasping a shadow if he in any way neglected the inheritance and devoted his time to any other pursuit—at all events at present. Thus he had lived from day to day for the last few years without any kind of change to vary the monotony of his existence. He had but few friends, and those of a very commercial character, and no luxuries or amusements beyond a second day's paper, and an occasional—very occasional—new suit of clothes. Therefore it was not so very extravagant of him to take into consideration, in the early summer of the year 1868, whether it would not be well to treat himself to a little change of air and scene. He had not, he fancied, been feeling quite the thing lately; and he thought it might be a wise proceeding on his part to recruit his health and spirits, and at the same time add to his already large store (in his own eyes) of shrewdness and worldly knowledge. Of course he never for a moment contemplated anything so costly and unnecessary to him as a mere pleasure-trip, so did not need to consider the most comfortable and enjoyable place whereat to spend the next five or six weeks of the summer. Not at all. He had only to make up his own mind as to the place where it would be possible to find anything fresh to add to his crowded storehouse of facts, monetary and otherwise.

As he that June evening thus ruminated in his little parlour over the shop, a bright idea suddenly occurred to him. 'Isaac,' said he, 'where have your wits been wool-gathering all this time? Oughtn't you to have known in a twinkle that there was only one place that would do for you? London's the only place that's fit for your capabilities, my boy; and London it shall be.'

CHAPTER II.—OUR HERO PREPARES TO GO TO LONDON.

There were, however, one or two little matters to be arranged, before Isaac could give himself up to his journey in search of fresh experience. One was to endeavour to find a tenant for his lodgings during the time that he would be absent from them, because it would never do for him to pay for the use of two beds and sleep only in one. But in this he met with no difficulty; for on his popping the question (not matrimonially of course) to Mrs Clappen, his landlady, she immediately averred that the circumstance was providential. Isaac himself did not quite see how Providence was likely to be interested in so mundane a matter as lodgings to let, so ventured to ask why.

Mrs Clappen explained. 'Well, sir,' said she, 'a young gent which is quite a stranger to me, looked in the shop, you see, yesterday mornin'—yes, it must ha' been in the mornin' time, for Mrs Swaller had jest come in for to get some Epsin salts for her little boy, which is things I don't 'old no belief in myself, though sellin' 'em for the benefit, as you may say, of them as does; and I was jest a-asking Mrs Swaller if she wouldn't have a packet or two of grits to make a little gruel in order to comfort her little boy's stumick, as you may say, and she was jest a-sayin' as her youngest child's teeth, which is a twelvemonth old come next Sunday week at a little afore two, wasn't doing as she could wish, when this gent, which is a stranger to me, as you may say, looked in the door, and says: "Ladies," he says—them was his words—"Ladies, I am hextremely sorry to disturb you, more particular in your maternal simperthisin's," he says; "but does either of you ladies 'appen to know whether anybody 'appens to 'ave a good-sized room, or two small uns adjoining, which would be equally convenient, ladies," he says, "to let at a lowish figure for about a month or so in a week or two, ladies."

'We was naturally taken with 'is hair and that; and I says to Mrs Swaller: "Do you know of any think that would do for this 'ere gent?" I says. "Well, no, I don't, not 'ereabouts," she says; "but I 'eard Mrs Speller, what lives up agen the 'pike, say as 'ow she wouldn't mind meetin' with a genteel party, which of course we 'ave 'ere," she says, alludin' to 'is hair; "but that's a couple of mile furder on," she says, "and might be too far for the gentleman. And besides," she says, "she couldn't board him, and that might be naturally ill-convenient." And the gent, he says, with a pleasant smile, quite afferble: "Ladies, I mustn't be no furder away from Dambourne town than this," he says; "and if you don't know of nothink else, ladies," he says, with a hamiable smile, "'ere's my address," he says, "in case you 'appen to 'ear of anythink.—Good mornin', ladies," he says; and with that he went off, as you may say.' Mrs Clappen, quite out of breath, wiped her face with her apron as she concluded her narrative.

After a few questions from Isaac as to what the person was like, and if Mrs Clappen thought he would take care of the place, and not wear the carpet out, and so on, it was settled that she should write to Mr Scamplin, for such was his name, offering him her apartments for six weeks certain, at the same price her present lodger was paying; and stating that they would be at his disposal at that day week, if he liked to take them, and on his giving two references; Mrs Clappen declaring that she ''ad no doubt from 'is hair' that all would be satisfactory, and that Mr Scamplin would come to terms.

The following morning, found Isaac with his tailor—Mr Batfid by name—who carried on a small business at Dambourne, and who exhibited in his window a placard (pinned on to an antique pair of hunting breeches) announcing in faded red-and-blue characters the fact of all orders and repairs being executed with fidelity and despatch; which gave one the idea that any unfortunate coat or other garment that might come under Mr Batfid's manipulation was forthwith mutilated and murdered, a black flag being hoisted to celebrate the event. But Isaac formed no such suspicious notions, but took himself to the industrious proprietor, and ten o'clock found him in the agonies of measurement with Mr Batfid—a very small man—on a chair behind him, stretching up to his collar. These preliminaries ended, and the material (of a good wearing colour) chosen, the small but highly respectable man of business was all but thrown off his balance by Isaac's announcement that he must have the complete suit home in four days from that time. Mr Batfid declared that he did not see how he could possibly accomplish so much in so short a time. 'For,' said he, to give weight to his argument, 'you must remember that you are a very tall gentleman, a very fine figure, sir, and all the seams are naturally very long.'

'It did not occur to me before,' said Isaac; 'but I ought to have gone to the ready-made place lately opened at the corner, for I am told their charges are very low, and there is of course no delay in getting your things home.'

Mr Batfid hoped if he had any respect for his fine proportions that Mr Webb would never come down to that; and finally promised, in order to oblige a customer, that the garments should be finished by the time named, even if he only took a few passing winks of sleep on his board until they were completed.

Isaac having thus arranged matters with the worthy tailor, bethought himself that he had neither invested in new boots nor a new hat for a long time past, but had been wearing out sundry old ones, formerly in the occupation of his mother's half-brother, lately deceased; so betook himself to the necessary shops for providing himself with these luxuries; and having walked past the cottages and garden-ground, took himself and his new purchases home to his lodgings.

Two days later the post brought a letter from Mr Scamplin, engaging Mrs Clappen's rooms, and inclosing two London references (whence also he hailed), which were about as useful to that estimable lady as if he had mentioned a friend in Greenland and referred her to him; but she had such trust 'in 'is hair,' that she was sure it was all right; and Isaac, not being of a suspicious turn of mind, fell in with her views on the subject. So Mr Scamplin was written to, and the matter was settled.

Isaac having given the cottages and garden-ground into the charge of an old school-fellow of his, who was proprietor of a stationer's business (on a very limited scale as to stationery) and a night-school (very limited also as to learning, charges, and scholars), patiently waited for Mr Batfid's promise to be fulfilled, and was ready for his flight.

CHAPTER III.—IN THE METROPOLIS.

Mr Batfid was true to his word, and the new clothes were duly delivered; and when day broke on the 13th of June, all was in readiness for Isaac's departure. Mrs Clappen, after much cogitation, could put this journey down to no other cause than her lodger's marriage on the quiet; not that she had reason to suppose he meditated taking such a step, but as he was so 'close' in his manner, she was pretty sure he would not take her into his confidence until the fact was accomplished. Although this was not Isaac's intention just at present, yet he had often thought whether he, as a landed proprietor, ought not to take unto himself a wife. With so very much on his side, he had no doubt of being able to find, whenever he might think proper to seek, a lady not only ready but eager to ally herself to so desirable a partner.

The only bar to his taking upon himself the holy estate of matrimony had been the expense; since he justly considered that no two persons, be they ever so economical, could by any possibility subsist on the same amount of rations, &c. as one, even supposing them to be like the wedded couple celebrated in song, one of whom could eat no fat, the other no lean, and thus, by a happy division of labour, accomplishing the cleanliness of the platter. It was not likely that Isaac would be so fortunate as this; and supposing he were, he and his good lady would not be able to do a similar thing with regard to clothes as the before-mentioned happy pair did with regard to victuals.

Isaac had many times considered this matter, and with his usual perspicuity, had arrived at the conclusion that there was but one course open to him; to wit, his alliance with some lady possessing sufficient means of her own to be able to bear her share in the cost of housekeeping—thus making matrimony subservient to patrimony; and his intention was to look out for such a party.

The sunlight peeping into Isaac's bedroom awoke that wary individual, who proceeded to arise and dress himself in his new apparel. This apparel was not, after all, entirely satisfactory, inasmuch as Mr Batfid, too much impressed apparently with the magnitude of his undertaking, had exaggerated the length of the seams and the fineness of his customer's figure; for Isaac found himself arrayed in a pair of inexpressibles very much too long, a waistcoat very much too tight, and a coat very much too high in the neck, very much too long in the sleeves, and likewise in the waist.

Nothing could be done but brace up the first until they nearly mounted to his arm-pits (and were even then too long), let out the second as far as it would go, and turn up the cuffs of the third. Thus habited, and with a cotton umbrella in one hand and an old carpet-bag in the other, Isaac made for the railway station, caught the 10.33 train, and was whisked up to London in an hour and five minutes.

He was not an entire stranger in that city, for he had visited it once before in company with his mother's half-brother, and remembered where to put up; namely, at a small coffee-house in the neighbourhood of Islington. Arrived there and a small bedroom engaged, the umbrella and bag were deposited in a corner, and Isaac, after carefully locking the door, took himself out for a stroll, telling the landlord he would be back at six o'clock, when he would regale himself with a chop and slice of cheese by way of dinner. Not that he entertained any high-fangled notions about dining late, but because of the economy of the thing; for a bun and a glass of water contented him in the middle of the day; and by this arrangement of six o'clock dinner, tea and supper were both dispensed with, these two meals per day being thus ticked off to Isaac's credit.

The first few weeks of his sojourn passed in a manner that would have been intolerably slow to anybody else, but did not appear so to him. There was much for him to see and admire in his own way, and this way was to walk about from morn till eve through the crowded streets, and more particularly those which were devoted entirely to business. Thus, next to a visit to the Docks, perhaps his favourite walk was through Upper and Lower Thames Street, where he would watch the loading and unloading of the various goods and merchandise. Not indeed with any distinct and particular purpose; but it was a delight to him to gaze upon these outward signs of the wealth within, and to ruminate on the possibility that he might one day acquire a share and interest in some large money-making business, which would serve as a stepping-stone to yet greater wealth and influence; and to be able to purchase such an interest was probably one of the reasons for his parsimoniousness. A laudable ambition, so far as it went; but the end was more thought of than the means by which it was to be accomplished; not indeed that he harboured an intention of any dishonesty, but he simply considered that the more he scraped, the sooner the final consummation would be attained.