TWO RAINY DAYS; HOSPITALITY HANDSOMELY REWARDED.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 731, 26 September 1870, Page 3

TWO RAINY DAYS; HOSPITALITY HANDSOMELY REWARDED.

(From, all the Year Hound). For many years there was an old-fashioned bookseller's shop in Little Marlborough street, London, kept by William Eow, who has been long since gathered to his fathers. His son used to tell how he owed his luck to one rainy day, and hi 3 life or his leg to another, thus : — When my father first Bet up in business, he took a little shop in Oxford street. It rained suddenly one morning, and a lady ran in and said to him, " May I ask for shelter till the rain is over ?" " You are quite welcome, ma'am. Sit down in this chair, out of the draught. Here is a book ; you can look at the pictures, if you don't want to read." The lady smiled, and sat for some time. She appeared uneasy at the protracted rain, and frequently went to the door to look for signs of its abating. My father, seeing this, said to her, " Perhaps you would like me to send for a hackney coach ?" •' Why, no," said the lady ; " I only want to go as far as Hayward's (about fifty yards lower down) to buy some lace." My father fetched his umbrella. " Here, ma'am, is a bran new silk umbrella, at your service ; pray accept the loan of it." " You must be a very kind person indeed," said the lady," to offer me your umbrella. I am quits a stranger to you." " I'm sure you'll send it back. Let me put it up for you. But your shoes ; have they double soles ? No. Black satin slippers, as thin as dancing-pumps. Here, Jessy, my dear, bring your pattens." Pattens in those days were rather formidable affairs — they were pieces of wood, shaped und hollowed to fit the foot, mounted on circular iron rings. When my moether brought the pattens, the lady looked at them with dismay. " I never wore a pair in my life," said she. "Never wore pattens?" said my father ; then pray get a pair directly ; they will keep your feet dry, and save you more than their price in shoe leather." The lady put on the pattens, and burst out laughing. " Pary excuse me ; they are so absurd ; but I think I can manage to balance myself. So thank you for your civility ; and I will be sure to send back your property as soon as I get home." Week after Yreek slipped away, and no tidings came of the lady. My father was nicely joked by the neighbours about his umbrella and my mother's pattens ; but he told them he was sure the things would come back some day or other. One morning, a carriage, with a couple of footmen behind, stopped at our door. A lady got out — the identical lady to whom my father had lent his umbrella. " You must forgive me," said she, v for keeping your umbrella so long ; but I was obliged to go to Spain to my husband, who is with Wellington, and I returned only last night. Here is your umbrella— not the worse for wear, I hope— and accept my thanks for the loan of it. Pray let me speak a word to your good lady." My mother came into the shop, and the lady, calling one of the footmen, asked him for the parcel on the seat in the carriage. When it was brought and opened, it contained my mother's pattens, and a beautiful Spanish merino shawl, which the lady insisted on her accepting. " And here," said she, taking out a long strip of paper, and giving it to my father, " I've put down a few things I want; Lord Groogroo has given me this other list. Please send them to the addresses on these cards. Good morning; I shall not forget you." And this lady proved to be no less a personage than the Marchioness Crickcrack ! The second rainy-day incident was as fol lows: — There was a parish feast at the Marlborough Head Tavern, and my father had taken more than he could comfortably carry, so when he got home and looked for the keyhole he could not find it. Not wishing to disturb my mother, he thought he could get in at the first-floor window. So he climbed up the spout outside the house until he got to the lead coping, but. there missing his footing, he fell heavily into the street. 'J he watchman picked him up and at first thought he was killed ; he got the street door open and took him to his bedroom. In a short time he came to his senses, but could not move one of his legs. Mr Swift, a celebrated surgeon, was Bent for, and, on examining the damaged leg, he said it was broken. He could do nothing to it then, but at four o'clock in the afternoon he would bring his instruments and cut it off. My mother was in a dreadful way at hearing this, and so was my father. In the morning the shop was open as usual, and just about mid-day it began to rain. A gentleman wearing a cloak came in, and said h« was on his way to the levee, and as he could not afford to spoil his court-dress, might he stop a few minutes until the rain was over ? " But," says he, " what are ye all so gloomy about ? " One of the shopmen told him that my father had broken his leg, and that at four o'clock Mr Swift was coming to cut it off. " That's sharp work ! " said the gentleman ; " I have ten minutes to spare. lam a surgeon. Go up-stairs, and say I would like to look at the limb." My father made no objection, and the gentleman went up-stairs, and after examining the leg said, •' This leg is not broken. Run and get in half-a-dozen men, and bring me a couple of thin boards." They called in some of the neighbours, and after the gentleman had cut the boards into lengths, he got the joint right again, which had been twisted out of its place, and having bound it up in splints, went to the levee, promising to call on his return. Mr Swift looked in about an hour before

four o'clock, and told us to get up the kitchen table and make things ready, while ha went for his amputating instruments. One of his apprentices told him that a gentleman had been there, and what he had said and done. " Tell him from me he's a quack," said Mr Swift ; " I say the leg mu3t come off 1 " Mr Swift went away, and almost immediately afterwards the gentleman came in. " Well, how gets on my patient ? " said he. Oh ! Mr Swift has been here, and says you are a quack." " A <iuack is it ? Surgeon O'Brien, of the Six Hundred and Porty-fourth, a quack ! I'll wait for the gentleman, and ask him to explain his small mistake." Mr O'Brien went into the bedroom, and waited for Mr Swift, who came at the time appointed. " If you don't have that leg off directly," said Mr Swift to my father, " you had better make your will." " You think so, do you ? " said the other, coming forward ; hadn't you better be thinking about making your own will first ? You called me a quack ! Surgeon O'Brien, of his Majesty's Six Hundred and Fortyfourth, who was in Bunker's Hill and half-a- 1 dozen other battles in America ! But you ] are an old man, and that saves your bones. Get out of the house by the door, if you don't want to be thrown out of the window. And, mark my words ! I'll have this gentleman down in his shop in a fortnight, a better man than ever he was in his life ! " Mr O'Brien kept his word ; he cured my father, and for thirty years they were the firmest friends.