LITERATURE.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 5016, 23 July 1884, Page 3

LITERATURE.

MR BROWNSMITH'S ONLY ADVENTURE. George IV., of magnificent memory, said that a woman was at the bottom of all the troubles a man got himself into. One fine day a painter in His Majesty's palace fell down from a ladder, and broke hfe leg. " Who is she ? Who is she ?" asked the King. " May it please your Majesty, it is a man." " Nonsense ! nonsense ! Who is she P" again demanded the King. " May it please your Majesty, it is a man." But the King was in the right. The painter had broken his leg because he had leaned too far over his ladder for the purpose of giving a kiss to one of the Royal housemaids. Now to apply the august maxim, and" show how Mrs Brownsmith got me into trouble. My wife is a splendid woman, as you would say if you saw her. But proud as I was of her, we had not been married long before I saw that, if I was to be master for life, I must assert my authority at once and for ever. I waited for an opportunity, and an opportunity came. We were in the breakfast room of our little villa near Sandstone, and a long altercation ended thus: — " Well, Mr Brownsmith, if you havemade up your mind not to take me to the seaside, I have made up my mind to go to my mother's house, and stay there till you choose to behave like a man, and not like a savage. I go." With an' eloquent sweep of her petticoats she left the room, and shortly after I saw her cross the garden, in the direction of Acacia Cottage, where my beloved inother-in-law resides, unhappily for me, •within five minutes' walk of us. " I'll show her — I'll tame her ladyship," in an evil moment I thought to myself. So I packed a small portmanteau, ordered a fly to take me to the station, and left this little note on my wife's dressingtable : — " Dear Augusta,— l leave for London by the 2.30 express, and I shall not return until I receive an apology from you. My address will be Langham Hotel, Portland Place, W. " Sunny Villa, Friday." "Certainly," I thought, "I had the best of it." Soon I was borne away to London by the express. There was but one occupant of the first-class carriage with me, and a most agreeable companion he was, full of conversation, well educated (as far as I could judge), very obliging and entertaining. The only thing I did not like about my companion was his style of dress. Boots with patent leather tips, trousers of a monstrous pattern, a low-cut brighteoloured wastcoat, across which wandered a chain apparently so massive that any hotel-keeper to whom it was offered would gladly allow one to live on the strength of it for a month. Then as I raised my eyes higher, my sight was dazzled with a huge blue satin scarf, fastened by a pin of gigantic size. Add a cuttaway green coat, uu buttoned, a white o])en overcoat, a white hat, and bright kid gloves, and you have before you the dress of my companion. However, he was a downright good fellow, and most .amusing vis-a-vis, and very glad was I to travel in such good society. Anecdotes without end were poured into my enchanted ear. My quarrel, my wife, my home, were all forgotten. Wo had just passed P station, when the gentleman. with whom I was travelling directed my attention to some alterations that were being made in Mr Montgomery's park. By leaning out of the window I could get a good view of them. As I drew my head in my friend kindly handed mo my pocket handcrchicf, which I had dropped. The wind and dust which I had picked up while hanging out of the carriage window caused me to ÜBe my pocket-handkerchief about my faco and nose. How very sleepy I felt — how I yawned I

1 recollect nothing more, save that I think my friend took his pocket-handkerchief and kindly wiped my face. The next thing that I can recall is feeling rather cold ; then, rather confused and cramped, I seemed apparently to he in my coffin, and without a shroud on. In a few minutes I discovered that I was lying under the seat of the carriage, in the same state Adam was in when he was made — no, just a trifle more clothed than he was, for I had a pair of socks and a. short flannel waistcoat. So you can easily understand that I was neither very warm nor very presentahle, hut as I gradually collected my senses I saw that my absent friend had left behind him for my use his patent tipped hoots, huff trousers, gaudy waistcoat, scarf and pin, white coat and hat. Morever, he had not forgotten to draw down the blinds. He h;i : however, I discovered, taken my purse .nth him, and had forgotten to leave lus owu behind. Suddenly I heard the sharp, shrill whistle, and then the deep groaning of the break. Into my friend's trousers I tried to jump $ but, alas ! either in my confusion, I put the wrong leg in, or poked it between the lining and the cloth, or the wretch had played me a schoolboy's trick, and had fastened up the lining of his nether garments. The train was stopping. Oh, horror of horrors ! I extricated my leg from the confounded trap, and rushed to the window. Good gracious ! a scurrying of steps outside ! Who is coming into my carriage ? An old lady, who will scream and give me into custody ? A young lady, who will faint ? A father of a family, who ■will kick me down the platform ? Ah ! ah ! ah-h-h ! There is a hand on the outaide moving the handle of the door. Oh, the agony of those seconds! Pen cannot describe what I suffered ; but to the door and window my hands clung with a grasp that Policeman A., plus Policeman 8., could hardly have overcome without tearing my fingers from their sockets. A hell, a guard's whistle, an engine shriek ! Hurrah !we start again ! lam saved — saved — saved ! I feel desperately faint, but in time I recover. Slowly and deliberately I dressed myself in my ex-friend's clothes. " Hallo ! what's that ? What is the train stopping again for so soon ?" I was well acquainted with the line, and knew that the express ought not to stop at the next station. Some accident, I thought. " Tickets — tickets all ready here ! " What on earth is the meaning of all this ? I draw out my friend's ticket. His is only to F . lam going to London. The door was open, and I beheld the guard, station-master, and two policemen. "All right," said one of the latter, " this is our man." " All wrong," said I. " You have made & mistake ; I have no intention of getting out here. lam going on to town." "It is of no use, my man — you must come out at once, you are fairly caught. If you obey us and accompany us quietly, we will give you no unnecessary pain." Mechanically, I did what I suppose others would have done. I got out of the carriage. The train moved on. I assumed atern indignation, though ill at ease. " Now then," said I, " what the dickens do you mean by all this ?" "Come, come, my man, your swagger won't do with us. You must come along," was the answer of my guardians. " But what am I charged with ? What do you want me for ?" " Well, that is a good joke, and you are a cool hand," replied W.C. 1172. " You are charged with forging a cheque for £970 on the Sandstone Bank ; and with half-Mlling, if not actually murdering, P.O. Smith, of the Somersetshire force. "We are going to take you to the lock-up, and to-morrow you will have to appear before the magistrates." Good heavens ! And so I was a forger and a murderer! "Well — but," said I, "these are not my own clothes. A gentleman in the carriage changed clothes with me ; or, rather, he left me alone — ahem — naked, and I put on his clothes, and then you ame, and— and— confound it, you don't TiitiTr I am he ?" " Oh, no," said W. C, 1172, " you ain't him, not a bit of it ; you are yourself. Well, you must think us green to try and palm that off on us." And immediately there arose a subdued chuckle. Ere long it came to pass that I was obliged quietly to accompany my captors to the police station. Mr Inspector booked the charge, whereby it seemed that I was a. forger and ail-but murder. It was quite in vain that I protested and vowed that I was not the forging murderer in question, but Edward Brownsmith, of Sunny Villa, near Sandstone. I was cut short in my protestations with — " You must prove that before the magistrates to-morrow if you can." And so I was confined to a cell, there to await to-morrow. But first I was searched, and on me, to my disgust, were found a ticket to F- , not to London, where I had said I was going, and a clasp-knife partly Btained with blood. "No use denying it, my man. We have got you, and shall not let you escape." I felt half distracted at the position I was placed in. " Please, Mr Inspector, may I telegraph to my wife ?" " Well, I hardly know," he said. " However, write down the telegram, and let me see it. I suppose, too, you will want me to lend you a shilling ?" Quickly I wrote — " From Edward Brownsmith, Police Station G, North Wilts, to Augusta Brownsmith, Sunny Villa, Sandatone. — Dearest, — I am taken up wrongly -on suspicion. Come at once. Bring vicar ■of parish to prove my identity." In an hour's time, a grim policeman handed me the following telegram in reply :— " Edward, — I am not so easily taken in by your dodge. Come home j take me to seaside, then all forgiven." Depict the utter wretchedness of that night I spent locked up in my cell! Before post— but subject to police inspection, and, I believe also police copy — I wrote a most humble, imploring letter to my wife. Next morning about twelve o'clock, I was had up before the magistrates. Everything that you already know was brought up against me ; and, moreover, it was sworn that Jabez •Qough, dressed as I was, had left Sandstone station dressed in the very clothes I had on, had a knife and ticket such as were found on me. However, a remand was asked for, and I was remanded. Before the court was up, I was again put into the dock. To my glad surprise, I saw about to come into the witness-box my wife, the clergyman of my parish, and two Somersetshire magistrates. Quickly it was proved that I was what I am, and not the notorious forger, Gabez Gou^h. .Of course I had to take Mrs B, to the seaside. She put on the inexpressibles there, and has worn them ever sinee — to the great misfortune of her henpecked husband. I hear her gentle voice call me to roll the grass plot. It's hard work, but " Coming, my de-a-r. Coming !"