LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume VIII, Issue 890, 2 May 1877, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THE TWO JONESES. A Storv of St. David’s Day. (From Loudon Society .) Chatter I. It was the Ist of March, in the year of grace 18— In a merchant’s office, not far from Cheapside, a little man sat at a high d-sk, trying hard, apparently, to keep one eye on the rows of figures before him, and the other on the office clock. Failing in this, his glances travelled from the one to the other with pendulum-likc regularity. At last the clock struck the wished-for hour of six ; and the little man shut the big ledger with a bang, and, after locking it up carefully in the office-safe, dashed into a dark cupboard, and began a hasty but careful toilet, involving great splashing of water, and much violent exercise with a stumpy nail-brush. Evan Jones was nominally managing clerk, and really general fectotum, to the firm of Berwick and Brown, hardwood merchants. He was fifty years of age, short, fat, and good-natured, though a little peppery at times. He had a numerous family, whom he found it anything but easy to feed and bring up on his modest salary of lifty shillings a week. With strict economy, however, he managed just to make both ends meet. Not for him were the breezy sands of Ramsgate, or Die chestnut avenues of Hampton Court. Not for him wer* the mild havana or the fragrant cigarette. Ho had o vices and desired no luxuries. One iudu'gcncc alone, in the course of the year, did he permit hinrelf. He was o Welshman to the backbone, an herein lay his one extravagance. Come what might, and however depressed the condition of the domestic money market, he was alw ys present at the dinner of the ‘United Welshmen’ on St. David’s Day. The necessary guinea was to Jones as much as a hundred to many of the other guests who

assembled at the banquet in question—a sum to be saved and scraped together by iutinit sacrifice and self-d mal. Hut ‘Thou.di bad- nulsi u.-n g<> bare, Though bauds and feet go oo us the old song says, scraped tog-tlmr imist he. by hook or by crook. For nearly ■i week prior to the present occasion, Evan’s iiuuer had consisted of a saveloy and a penny roll ; and on the day of our story he had taken no food whatever since his frugal breakfast, intending to compensate himself handsomely for his abstinence at the ex pense of the‘United Welshmen.’ Ho had, in truth, gone so long without food as to feel a little, exhausted ; but he consoled himself with the thought of the splendid appetite he should carry to the festive board ; and having at last completed his toilet, he shut up the office, and started for the hostelry where the dinner was to beheld, feeling at least six feet high, and humming ‘ Ar hyd y nos ’ with patriotic energy. At almost the same moment when Evan •Tones started on his journey, a tall, hand some man. in faultless evening attire, stepped out of a West end mansion, outside of which a brougham was waiting. A graceful little lady, with a bright girlish face, accompanied him to the hall-door.

‘ You won’t be very late, Owen, will you?’ she said, c iaxingly. ‘Not very early, I am afraid, pet. Wo “Welshmen ” arc: rar ■ fellows for keeping ic up; ami if I came away before all the national toas's had been duly honored, I should never hear the last of it.’

‘"Very well, dear; then I suppose I inns'n’t expect you till I see you. I hope you will have a pleasant evening. Don’t take too much wine,’ she continued laughingly.

‘ Can’t answer for myself on such an occasion,’ her husband responded. ‘ The Tavern,’ he said to the coachman ; and kissing his hand to his wife, in a few moments was whirled out of sight. Chapter 11. The ‘United Welshmen’ had finished their dinner, and had made considerable progress with their dessert. Each man wore attached to his button hole a wonderful comnosit'on of green and white satin and silver filagree, which was supposed (by dint of makingbelieve very much indeed) to represent the ‘ leek’ sacred to the occasion. A perfect hurricane of n’s and m’s and p’s and /’s and w's flew about the room, only ceasing for a few moments when the chairman rose to propose a toast, or the bards at the far end of the banquet-hall tuned their harps for some Cambrian melody. Evan Jones was seated at the festive board, but. alas, no longer the spick-and-span Evan Jones who had but a couple of hours earlier left the office of Messrs Berwick and Brown. His carefully-brushed hair was now rough and dishevelled, his face red, his shirt front limp and crumpled, his utterance thick, and his general appearance that of a gentleman who has dined ‘ not wisely, hut too well.’ Poor Evan had been by no means immoderate in his potations, but he had so weakened himself by long fasting, that the little be had taken bad had an exaggerated eff ct upon him, and he was rapidly becoming argumentative, not to say pugnacious. It was an article of faith with him, even in his sober moments, that he was in some mysterious way connected with the last of the Welsh kings, and in his present elevated condition this idea took possession of his mind with redoubled emphasis. He had more than once commenced a sentence beginning, *As a ’scendant of Llewellyn,’ but without getting any further. At the second failure his left-hand neighbour, to whom the observation was addressed, replied profanely, ‘O, blow Llewellyn ! ’ Evan done- looked at him for a moment with an expression of immeasurable scorn and disgust, and then turned to his right-hand neighbour ; *’B a deshendant of Llewellyn, ’pears to me—as a ’scendant—of Llewellyn—’ and then stopped again. ‘ Cwm nog Iwyn bora dwmnath cwlyd llimach bach,’ replied his right-hand neighbour.

‘ Dwyllog Iwramo gwlloch y (Tina nos,’ remarked another of the party. ‘ Cwlla gwyn dwylleth dym da y ewi hala llewelly caerloc,’ responded Jones, whose tongue was loose enough in his native Welsh and who would probably have continued in the same strain for some time, had not the chairman requested attention for the ‘ March of the Men of Harlech,’ which was about to be given by the choir. Jones sat still during the chorus, with head and hand keeping tipsy time to the measure ; but his soul waxed hot within him under the influence of the inspiring strains, and no sooner h cl they ceased than he wildly got upon his legs, and said in a loud thick voice.

* Mis’r Chairman, I shay ! ’S a humble roprescn’tive—T mean ancestor I mean ’scendant—of Llewellyn, I don’t think this ’spicious occasion—l shay I don’t think this ’spicions ’casion--’ Here there were loud cries of ‘ Order ! ’ ‘Chair!’ ‘Pit down!’ And Jones was pulled violently down by tbo coat-tails by one of his neighbours. The gentlemanlylooking man to AV’ho we have alluded in our first chapter was Jones’s vis-a-via at the table. The scene was so ludicrous that hs could not repress a smil«, which was observed by Evan, Avhose choleric temper fired up instantly at the supposed affront. ‘What th’ devil you grinning at, look yon ?’ ‘T)id I smile? I really beg your pardon : hut I am quite sure I was not “grinning,” as you call it.’ ‘You did, sir; you grinned like—like Cheshire cat, sir. I appeal to th’ gen’linen present. You’ve, ’suited me, sir ’suited me grossly. Name’s Jones; very good name; ’scendant of Llewellyn; and I maud ’sfactiou of a gen’lman.’ ‘ My name is Jones, too, though T haven’t the honor of being a descendant of ' lowellyn. There is my’ card, sir; and if when yon come to your sober senses you desire to apologise for your unseemly behaviour, 1 shall he happy to sec you.’ Evan’s right-hana neighbor thrust the card, which bore the inscription Mr Owen Jones, 90, Wiusi ow sq u are, Belgravia, S.W. into Evan’s waistcoat-pocket, and He owner, by’ no means desirous of being involved in an after-dinner brawl, moved away to another part of the table. By’ dint of a little humoring, those around managed H soothe the fiery Evan into comparative tranquillity, and after a few more desultory ob servations, wheiein his descent from I lewellyn still played a prominent part h leant back in his chair, and was speedily fast asleep. [ To be continued,']