LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 1851, 28 January 1880, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THE LONG-LOST BROTHER, [Abridged from ‘‘ London Society.] ( Concluded. .) Peter had vanished, but was discovered ia the kitchen, drinking beer with Mr Prodder and listening with much apparent interest to that gentleman’s description of a new method of planting potatoes. He was tenderly reproached for his desertion, and carried off to the drawing room again, the door being carefully shut in order to exclude the ravings of the imprisoned lunatic, who was still making frantic efforts to escape from durance. By way of further covering the painful sound, Miss Pamela volunteered to sing a song, and gave ‘ The Forsaken ’ with great effect ; the only drawback being an unfortunate tendency to miss a note altogether now and then, giving a sort of wheezy gasp instead, like a broken winded accordion. ‘ You don’t find my voice what it was, I dare say, Peter ? ’ said Miss Pamela, when she concluded. ‘No, I dare say it ain’t what It was,’ replied Peter; ‘but. lor, we ain’t none of us what we was. Anyhow we don’t keep so.’ ‘Will you oblige Peter?’ said Miss Penelope, a little disappointed at this qualified praise of her sister’s performance ; ‘ you used to sing very nicely as a boy. Oh dear, what a noise that poor man makes ? ’ ‘I only know one song,’ said Peter; * it’s called 1 Down in the valley where the daisies grow.’ I’ll sing you that if you like.’ Accordingly Peter seated himself at the piano. His attitude was peculiar. He placed himself astride on the music stool as if it had been a horse, his legs dangling down on either side. He then began to sing with a thin, cracked voice, and with a noble independence of time and tune, at the same time accompanying himself with one finger. When he had got to the end of the first verse, he sang it right through again ; and was about to do so a third time, when Miss Penelope, whose nerves were unequal to the continued strain upon them, mildly suggested—‘ My dear Peter, surely yon have sung that same verse already ?‘ * Well, and what if I have?’ said Peter, somewhat offended; ‘lt’s a very pretty verse, ain’t it?’ Miss Penelope was scarcely prepared for this view of the matter. ‘ Well, certainly—’ she began. But the sentence was never doomed to be completed. There was a gentle tap at the door, and Susan entered, saying—‘Please, ma’am, a gentleman from the ’sylum.’ She was followed by a thick-set good-tempered looking man in a gray tweed suit, who nodded familiarly to the supposed Peter Pimpernel. ‘ Servant, ladies, and much obliged to you for lendin’ a hand in recapturing this troublesome warmint of ours. You’re a artful dog. Simmons, now, ain’t yen ?’ Miss Pamela drew herself up to her full height (of four feet three) and looked daggers at the rash speaker. ‘ Sir !’ she said, in a tone like the celebrated f whisper’ of

Mrs Siddons, you are under some extraordinary mistake. This is Mr Peter Pimpernel, our brother, 'who has ju»t returned from India. The unhappy person o£ whom you are in search is locked up in our china closet. In fact, you can hear him now.” The keeper looked from one to another in blank amazemont. ‘ There’s a pair on ’em, then. But, axing yonr pardon, ladle?, if there’s a mistake in the case it’s on yonr side. That chap’s name ain’t Pimpernel, nor yet Peter. His name is oamnel Simmons, and till he went off his head about two years ago, he kep’ a cheesemonger’s shop in the Tottenham Court road. And he’s one of the artfullest loonies we’ve got. This is the third time he has escaped ; but he never goes further than the first place where he can get something to eat and drink. Come, Simmons own up, and tell the ladies you’ve been making fools of ’em. Long lost brother, indeed. Why, he’d pretend he was anybody’s mother, if there was anything to be got by it.’ The supposed Peter Pimpernel stood with his thumb in his mouth looking sheepishly at the warder. ‘lt wasn’t my fault. Mr Bradbury. It was them as did it They stuffed me up as Iwas their long lost brother, and I didn’t see I had any call to say different, But I ain’t done nothing.’ Here the victim of mistaken identity began to cry. Miss Penelope pressed her handkerchief to her eyes. ‘Oh Pamela, what a cruel deception. However shall we survive it ? ’ * Oh, we shall survive it fast enough,’ said Miss Pamela, who was somewhat quicktempered, and whose first feeling was that of extreme annoyance ; ‘ but, Penelope, a frightful thought strikes me. If this is the lunatic, whom have we got in the china closet?’ ‘Can it be——?’ shrieked Miss Penelope ; ‘ yes, Pamela, it must. Can he ever forgive us ? Our real long lost brother comes to us after twenty years’ absence, and we throw a blanket over his head, and put him in a cupboard.’ ‘Hadn’t yon better let him out then ma’am ? ’ suggested the keeper, ‘the gentleman don’t seem to take kindly to the accommodation provided for him, and when you come to think of it, perhaps it is a little trying to the feelings.’ ‘ This person is right, Pamela,’ said Miss Penelope; ‘the door certainly ought to be opened ; but who is to do it ? I must own I could never meet our brother’s justlyoffended gaze under such circumstances.’ ‘Lor, ma’am, don’t let that troubie you,’ said Bradbury ; * I’ll open it with pleasure.’ He did so accordingly, revealing a perfect chaos of blankets, tea-trays, preserve pots, and broken crockery, from the midst of which rushed out the imprisoned inmate, his hair dishevelled, his cravat awry, his coat torn, his features swollen, and his whole frame working with excitement. His unconscious personator, Simmons, was the first person he caught sight of. He made a frantic rush at him, caught him by the collar, and began shaking and pummelling him furiously, at the same time using what appeared to be frightfully bad language in some foreign tongue, till the victim was rescued by the strong arm of Mr Bradbury. ‘ Come, I say. sir, you’ll addle him worse than he’s addled already, which ’ud be a pity, goodness knows. There’s been a bit of a mistake, but shaking won’t mend it. However, if yon want to shake anybody, shake me!’

The invitation was well meant, bnt from the relative size and strength o£ the two men, it was like inviting a very small terrier to shake a very big bnll-dog. Profiting by the momentary interruption, Miss Pamela cried, ‘Penelope, do as I do.’ She flung herself on her knees at her brother’s feet, and clasping him round the right leg said, ‘Oh Peter, can yon ever forgive ns ? ’ Mr Pimpernel shook his leg free rather roughly. ‘None of that, thank yon, old lady,’ he said; 'and the quicker 1 get ont of this confounded house the better I shall like it.’ Miss Pamela quite shrieked. *He calls me old lady, Penelope. He doesn’t know his sister, his own little Pamela.’ And she forthwith went off into violent hysterics. ‘ What!’ said her brother, ‘ this Pamela ? Then you must be Penelope,’ turning to his elder sister ; ‘ I don’t wonder you didn’t recognise me, for I certainly shouldn’t have recognised you. I thought I had come to the wrong house ; in fact I’ll be hanged if I know what I thought. But why on earth did you put me in that infernal cupboard ? And who the devil are these persons ? ’ indicating Mr Simmons and the keeper. l lf you’ll allow me, ma’am ? ’ interrupted Mr Bradbury, ‘ I’ll remove Mr Simmons at once, and leave you to settle matters with this good gentleman. Now, Simmons, come along. Ah ! up to your old tricks again, are you ? ’ Mr Simmons had taken advantage of the general excitement to partake of a little more refreshment. He had just taken a little bite out of a cold muffin, bnt finding Mr Bradbury’s eye upon him, hastily dropped the remainder into bis hat, which he forthwith put on his head, and the pair departed. v It took some little time to explain matters clearly to Mr Pimpernel, who was, not unnaturally, much incensed by his peculiar reception. But though somewhat irascible, he was not only of a naturally temperament, but possessed of a keen sense of humor, and in the midst of his sisters’ tearful recital the absurdity of the whole affair struck him so vividly that he suddenly passed, without the slightest warning, from dignified sulks into a fit of uuaentrollable laughter, which continued, with but momentary intervals, for nearly a quarter of an hour, causing his sisters te entertain apprehensions of apoplexy, and finally leaving him completely exhausted. Meanwhile, the distress of his sisters at their unfortunate mistake was unmistakable, and the many familiar objects around excited very tender memories of early days, when he and these two now faded sisters had been boy and girls together. As soon as he recovered breath enough to speak, he said, ‘Never mind, girls ; accidents will happen in the best regulated families. Let’s kiss and be friends, and say no more about it. I’m very glad to be back again in dear old England once more, and to find you alive and well to welcome me, though you took such a curious way of doing it. Hush, not a word, or yon’ll send me off again, and I really am not equal to laughing any more. All’s well that ends well, and it you are satisfied by this time that I am not a lunatic, we’ll see if we can’t spend a very merry Christmas together ’ ‘Hear, dear, brother.’ said Miss Pamela, ‘how good and forgiving of you. And now do let us give you a cup of tea. I’m sure yon must be dying for it. Good gracious, Penelope, there isn’t a single shrimp left.’ And there wasn’t. For Mr Samuel Simmons, who, though a lunatic, was clearly not such a fool as he looked, had carried them all away in a pocket-handkerchief.