




Transcribed from the 1894 Chapman and Hall edition of "Christmas Stories"
by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk





GOING INTO SOCIETY


At one period of its reverses, the House fell into the occupation of a
Showman.  He was found registered as its occupier, on the parish books of
the time when he rented the House, and there was therefore no need of any
clue to his name.  But, he himself was less easy to be found; for, he had
led a wandering life, and settled people had lost sight of him, and
people who plumed themselves on being respectable were shy of admitting
that they had ever known anything of him.  At last, among the marsh lands
near the river's level, that lie about Deptford and the neighbouring
market-gardens, a Grizzled Personage in velveteen, with a face so cut up
by varieties of weather that he looked as if he had been tattooed, was
found smoking a pipe at the door of a wooden house on wheels.  The wooden
house was laid up in ordinary for the winter, near the mouth of a muddy
creek; and everything near it, the foggy river, the misty marshes, and
the steaming market-gardens, smoked in company with the grizzled man.  In
the midst of this smoking party, the funnel-chimney of the wooden house
on wheels was not remiss, but took its pipe with the rest in a
companionable manner.

On being asked if it were he who had once rented the House to Let,
Grizzled Velveteen looked surprised, and said yes.  Then his name was
Magsman?  That was it, Toby Magsman--which lawfully christened Robert;
but called in the line, from a infant, Toby.  There was nothing agin Toby
Magsman, he believed?  If there was suspicion of such--mention it!

There was no suspicion of such, he might rest assured.  But, some
inquiries were making about that House, and would he object to say why he
left it?

Not at all; why should he?  He left it, along of a Dwarf.

Along of a Dwarf?

Mr. Magsman repeated, deliberately and emphatically, Along of a Dwarf.

Might it be compatible with Mr. Magsman's inclination and convenience to
enter, as a favour, into a few particulars?

Mr. Magsman entered into the following particulars.

It was a long time ago, to begin with;--afore lotteries and a deal more
was done away with.  Mr. Magsman was looking about for a good pitch, and
he see that house, and he says to himself, "I'll have you, if you're to
be had.  If money'll get you, I'll have you."

The neighbours cut up rough, and made complaints; but Mr. Magsman don't
know what they _would_ have had.  It was a lovely thing.  First of all,
there was the canvass, representin the picter of the Giant, in Spanish
trunks and a ruff, who was himself half the heighth of the house, and was
run up with a line and pulley to a pole on the roof, so that his Ed was
coeval with the parapet.  Then, there was the canvass, representin the
picter of the Albina lady, showing her white air to the Army and Navy in
correct uniform.  Then, there was the canvass, representin the picter of
the Wild Indian a scalpin a member of some foreign nation.  Then, there
was the canvass, representin the picter of a child of a British Planter,
seized by two Boa Constrictors--not that _we_ never had no child, nor no
Constrictors neither.  Similarly, there was the canvass, representin the
picter of the Wild Ass of the Prairies--not that _we_ never had no wild
asses, nor wouldn't have had 'em at a gift.  Last, there was the canvass,
representin the picter of the Dwarf, and like him too (considerin), with
George the Fourth in such a state of astonishment at him as His Majesty
couldn't with his utmost politeness and stoutness express.  The front of
the House was so covered with canvasses, that there wasn't a spark of
daylight ever visible on that side.  "MAGSMAN'S AMUSEMENTS," fifteen foot
long by two foot high, ran over the front door and parlour winders.  The
passage was a Arbour of green baize and gardenstuff.  A barrel-organ
performed there unceasing.  And as to respectability,--if threepence
ain't respectable, what is?

But, the Dwarf is the principal article at present, and he was worth the
money.  He was wrote up as MAJOR TPSCHOFFKI, OF THE IMPERIAL BULGRADERIAN
BRIGADE.  Nobody couldn't pronounce the name, and it never was intended
anybody should.  The public always turned it, as a regular rule, into
Chopski.  In the line he was called Chops; partly on that account, and
partly because his real name, if he ever had any real name (which was
very dubious), was Stakes.

He was a uncommon small man, he really was.  Certainly not so small as he
was made out to be, but where _is_ your Dwarf as is?  He was a most
uncommon small man, with a most uncommon large Ed; and what he had inside
that Ed, nobody ever knowed but himself: even supposin himself to have
ever took stock of it, which it would have been a stiff job for even him
to do.

The kindest little man as never growed!  Spirited, but not proud.  When
he travelled with the Spotted Baby--though he knowed himself to be a
nat'ral Dwarf, and knowed the Baby's spots to be put upon him artificial,
he nursed that Baby like a mother.  You never heerd him give a ill-name
to a Giant.  He _did_ allow himself to break out into strong language
respectin the Fat Lady from Norfolk; but that was an affair of the 'art;
and when a man's 'art has been trifled with by a lady, and the preference
giv to a Indian, he ain't master of his actions.

He was always in love, of course; every human nat'ral phenomenon is.  And
he was always in love with a large woman; I never knowed the Dwarf as
could be got to love a small one.  Which helps to keep 'em the
Curiosities they are.

One sing'ler idea he had in that Ed of his, which must have meant
something, or it wouldn't have been there.  It was always his opinion
that he was entitled to property.  He never would put his name to
anything.  He had been taught to write, by the young man without arms,
who got his living with his toes (quite a writing master _he_ was, and