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afforded him; of performing to his heart's content on the first

violin。







MR。 ROBERT BOLTON:  THE 'GENTLEMAN CONNECTED WITH THE PRESS'







In the parlour of the Green Dragon; a public…house in the immediate

neighbourhood of Westminster Bridge; everybody talks politics;

every evening; the great political authority being Mr。 Robert

Bolton; an individual who defines himself as 'a gentleman connected

with the press;' which is a definition of peculiar indefiniteness。

Mr。 Robert Bolton's regular circle of admirers and listeners are an

undertaker; a greengrocer; a hairdresser; a baker; a large stomach

surmounted by a man's head; and placed on the top of two

particularly short legs; and a thin man in black; name; profession;

and pursuit unknown; who always sits in the same position; always

displays the same long; vacant face; and never opens his lips;

surrounded as he is by most enthusiastic conversation; except to

puff forth a volume of tobacco smoke; or give vent to a very

snappy; loud; and shrill HEM!  The conversation sometimes turns

upon literature; Mr。 Bolton being a literary character; and always

upon such news of the day as is exclusively possessed by that

talented individual。  I found myself (of course; accidentally) in

the Green Dragon the other evening; and; being somewhat amused by

the following conversation; preserved it。



'Can you lend me a ten…pound note till Christmas?' inquired the

hairdresser of the stomach。



'Where's your security; Mr。 Clip?'



'My stock in trade; … there's enough of it; I'm thinking; Mr。

Thicknesse。  Some fifty wigs; two poles; half…a…dozen head blocks;

and a dead Bruin。'



'No; I won't; then;' growled out Thicknesse。  'I lends nothing on

the security of the whigs or the Poles either。  As for whigs;

they're cheats; as for the Poles; they've got no cash。  I never

have nothing to do with blockheads; unless I can't awoid it

(ironically); and a dead bear's about as much use to me as I could

be to a dead bear。'



'Well; then;' urged the other; 'there's a book as belonged to Pope;

Byron's Poems; valued at forty pounds; because it's got Pope's

identical scratch on the back; what do you think of that for

security?'



'Well; to be sure!' cried the baker。  'But how d'ye mean; Mr。

Clip?'



'Mean! why; that it's got the HOTTERGRUFF of Pope。





〃Steal not this book; for fear of hangman's rope;

For it belongs to Alexander Pope。〃





All that's written on the inside of the binding of the book; so; as

my son says; we're BOUND to believe it。'



'Well; sir;' observed the undertaker; deferentially; and in a half…

whisper; leaning over the table; and knocking over the

hairdresser's grog as he spoke; 'that argument's very easy upset。'



'Perhaps; sir;' said Clip; a little flurried; 'you'll pay for the

first upset afore you thinks of another。'



'Now;' said the undertaker; bowing amicably to the hairdresser; 'I

THINK; I says I THINK … you'll excuse me; Mr。 Clip; I THINK; you

see; that won't go down with the present company … unfortunately;

my master had the honour of making the coffin of that ere Lord's

housemaid; not no more nor twenty year ago。  Don't think I'm proud

on it; gentlemen; others might be; but I hate rank of any sort。

I've no more respect for a Lord's footman than I have for any

respectable tradesman in this room。  I may say no more nor I have

for Mr。 Clip! (bowing)。  Therefore; that ere Lord must have been

born long after Pope died。  And it's a logical interference to

defer; that they neither of them lived at the same time。  So what I

mean is this here; that Pope never had no book; never seed; felt;

never smelt no book (triumphantly) as belonged to that ere Lord。

And; gentlemen; when I consider how patiently you have 'eared the

ideas what I have expressed; I feel bound; as the best way to

reward you for the kindness you have exhibited; to sit down without

saying anything more … partickler as I perceive a worthier visitor

nor myself is just entered。  I am not in the habit of paying

compliments; gentlemen; when I do; therefore; I hope I strikes with

double force。'



'Ah; Mr。 Murgatroyd! what's all this about striking with double

force?' said the object of the above remark; as he entered。  'I

never excuse a man's getting into a rage during winter; even when

he's seated so close to the fire as you are。  It is very

injudicious to put yourself into such a perspiration。  What is the

cause of this extreme physical and mental excitement; sir?'



Such was the very philosophical address of Mr。 Robert Bolton; a

shorthand…writer; as he termed himself … a bit of equivoque passing

current among his fraternity; which must give the uninitiated a

vast idea of the establishment of the ministerial organ; while to

the initiated it signifies that no one paper can lay claim to the

enjoyment of their services。  Mr。 Bolton was a young man; with a

somewhat sickly and very dissipated expression of countenance。  His

habiliments were composed of an exquisite union of gentility;

slovenliness; assumption; simplicity; NEWNESS; and old age。  Half

of him was dressed for the winter; the other half for the summer。

His hat was of the newest cut; the D'Orsay; his trousers had been

white; but the inroads of mud and ink; etc。; had given them a pie…

bald appearance; round his throat he wore a very high black cravat;

of the most tyrannical stiffness; while his TOUT ENSEMBLE was

hidden beneath the enormous folds of an old brown poodle…collared

great…coat; which was closely buttoned up to the aforesaid cravat。

His fingers peeped through the ends of his black kid gloves; and

two of the toes of each foot took a similar view of society through

the extremities of his high…lows。  Sacred to the bare walls of his

garret be the mysteries of his interior dress!  He was a short;

spare man; of a somewhat inferior deportment。  Everybody seemed

influenced by his entry into the room; and his salutation of each

member partook of the patronizing。  The hairdresser made way for

him between himself and the stomach。  A minute afterwards he had

taken possession of his pint and pipe。  A pause in the conversation

took place。  Everybody was waiting; anxious for his first

observation。



'Horrid murder in Westminster this morning;' observed Mr。 Bolton。



Everybody changed their positions。  All eyes were fixed upon the

man of paragraphs。



'A baker murdered his son by boiling him in a copper;' said Mr。

Bolton。



'Good heavens!' exclaimed everybody; in simultaneous horror。



'Boiled him; gentlemen!' added Mr。 Bolton; with the most effective

emphasis; 'BOILED him!'



'And the particulars; Mr。 B。;' inquired the hairdresser; 'the

particulars?'



Mr。 Bolton took a very long draught of porter; and some two or

three dozen whiffs of tobacco; doubtless to instil into the

commercial capacities of the company the superiority of a gentlemen

connected with the press; and then said …



'The man was a baker; gentlemen。'  (Every one looked at the baker

present; who stared at Bolton。)  'His victim; being his son; also

was necessarily the son of a baker。  The wretched murderer had a

wife; whom he was frequently in the habit; while in an intoxicated

state; of kicking; pummelling; flinging mugs at; knocking down; and

half…killing while in bed; by inserting in her mouth a considerable

portion of a sheet or blanket。'



The speaker took another draught; everybody looked at everybody

else; and exclaimed; 'Horrid!'



'It appears in evidence; gentlemen;' continued Mr。 Bolton; 'that;

on the evening of yesterday; Sawyer the baker came home in a

reprehensible state of beer。  Mrs。 S。; connubially considerate;

carried him in that condition up…stairs into his chamber; and

consigned him to their mutual couch。  In a minute or two she lay

sleeping beside the man whom the morrow's dawn beheld a murderer!'

(Entire silence informed the reporter that his picture had attained

the awful effect he desired。)  'The son came home about an hour

afterwards; opened the door; and went up to bed。  Scarcely

(gentlemen; conceive his feelings of alarm); scarcely had he taken

off his indescribables; when shrieks (to his experienced ear

MATERNAL shrieks) scared the silence of surrounding night。  He put

his indescribables on again; and ran down…stairs。  He opened the

door of the parental bed…chamber。  His father was dancing upon his

mother。  What must have been his feelings!  In the agony of the

minute he rushed at his male parent as he was about to plunge a

knife into the side of his female。  The mother shrieked。  The

father caught the son (who had wrested the knife from the paternal

grasp) up in his arms; carried him down…stairs; shoved him into a

copper of boiling water among some linen; closed the lid; and

jumped upon the top of it; in which position he was found with a

ferocious countenance by the mother; who arrived in the melanc

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