Snodgins joins the Working Men’s Club.

Fair Play, Volume I, Issue 8, 23 December 1893, Page 23

Snodgins joins the Working Men’s Club.

This week, Mr. Heditor, I’se sorry to say, I ’ave a greevance to make publik,—a greevance agenst him as I promised at the alter 23 years ago, come next June, in the sweet little country church in the village of Halton, Cheshere, to luv, honor, and obey. Still, how-

somever paneful it may be to make it publik I must, in justiss to myself, as a lasting lesson to my husbing, an’ as a warnin’ to the wives of Wellington. An’ now, Mr. Heditor, I will tell you what it is all about. The other evenin’ a friend (?) of my husbing’s, a Mr. Adolfus Smith (this is a none deplum, but I ’ave a good mind to publish his real name, what do you think, Mr. Heditor ?) called to see my husbing, an’ after being pronounced by Kate Deborah, came forward with a smile an’ a “ How do you do, Mrs. Snodgins ? Glad to meet you, Mrs. Snodgins. Your debility as a journalist is well knowed now in New Zealand, an’ I congraterlates you,” he says. “Thank you,” I says, an’ from that moment, with a woman’s ingstinct, I disliked that man.

“ An’ now, Mrs. Snodgins, I must tell you what I ’ave came for. I ’ave come to take Mr. Snodgins to a sochial at the Workin’ Men’s Club, of which I’se a member,” he says, “ an’ I wants your husbing to jine also,” he says. “What attrackshuns do it offer its members, Mr. Smith ?” I says. “ Oh, many,” he says. “ There’s billyard tables, an’ cards, an’ chess, an’ draughts, for those as feel inclined for a friendly game, an’ for those of a litterary turn like your charming se.f, mem, there is a library, readin’-room, and sochial hall, with planner for those as likes moosic,” he says. “ An’ anythmk else ?” I says. “ Oh, yes, mem,” he says. “ There’s a bar where you can get a good glass of beer for Bd, which is a grate advantage, as 6d is too much for a glass of beer, with which I am sure you will agree, mem, seein’ you’re not long from the Old Country' where you can get Allsopp’s sparklin’ ale for 2d per glass,” he says.

“ Yes,” I says, “ It is. an advantage, if it is not .aboosed, which I’se afraid it is sometimes," which was one for him, for his nose had not got that rose tint for one 6d; Then turnin’ to my husbing, I said, “ An’ what do you think of the perposition, Sam’el ?” I says, smiling. “ Well,” Sairey, “ I thinks as I’de like to jine providin’ you is willin’,” he says.

“Yes, Sam’el, Sairey w willin’, ” Isays, “ an’ I ’opes you’ll spend a plesant even’,” I says.

Snodgins was soon- ready, an’ away they went, Mr. Smith sayin’ as he shook hands, “ Good nite, Mrs Snodgins, I’ll take care of your husbing, an’ bring him home safe to you,” says the two-faced villan. I ’opes he’ll like that happendage, don’t you Mr. Heditor ? I soon after went to bed, for I was tired with the Xmas cleenin’, but could not go to sleep for some time, feelin’ anxshus an’ uncomfortabel, I could scarcely tell why. At last I droped hof, an' must ’ave been asleep some hours, when I was wakened up by a thud at the door, an’ vices talkin’, an’ was just goin’ to say, “ Get up Sam’el, an’ see what it is,” when I remembered he was out. Then I lissened an’ presently I heers someone sayin’ “ Let me (hie) open the door. I said I’de see you safe (hie) home,” an’ I instantly recergnised the vice of Mr. Smith.

“No sir (hie) I shall (hie) do it myself (hie).”

“ Sir, an’ grate hevens, can my seven senses deceve me? Nol that vice is the vice of my husbing, Sam’el Snodgins.” I held my breth, an’ then I heers them ja-strikin’ matches, an’ seemed to be burnin’ there fingers, for noomerous egsclamations such as “ Grate Scott,” “ Jemimer,” “ Sissors,” “ Dash it,” an’ one or two other egspressions too norty to mention. After they had continude this sort of thing for about "25 .minits, they succeeded in gettin’ the door open, but the door opened when they didn’t egspect it and they both fell sprawlin’ in the lobby. “ They must be drunk," I says to myself, an’ then I heers them skrambling to there feet, an’ standing by the open door they burst inter that song, which no man sings till he’s a bit gone, “ For he’s a jolly good fellow.” Heerin’ this song, I douts no longer, an’ jumpin’ out of bed I slips on my dressin’-gown, rushes to the washstand, lifts down the water-jug, an’ creepin’ to the winder, as is just over the door, opens it softly an’ pours the water upon the luvin’ pare below, who seemed loth to part, for they were just beginning a dooet—somothink about “ Good nite, beloved, good—” (but feelin’ the cold water atricklin’ down there backs, they egsehumed “Hevings, what’s that ?”)

“ It’s cold water, unadulterated,” I says, poppin’ my head out of the winder, “ an’ if you are not off quick, Mr. Adolfus Smith, I’ll treat you to another dose of the same beverage,” I says. Mr. Adolfus needed no second biddin’, for he was off like the shot of a gun, an’

heerin’ the door shut, I knew that Snodgins was inside, so puttin’ on fny slippers I went down stares. An’ what do you think I saw, Mr. Heditor ? Why, there stood Snodgins ofront of the hall-stand, on which was hung my bonnet and dolmore, an’ with outstretched hands an’ teers streemin’ down 'is cheeks, was sayin* “ Sairey, forgive mo, on’ I’ll never, never do it again, Sairey, never l never! 1 ” “ When you ’ave done talkin’ to that lady p’raps you'll turn your attention to me, Mr. Snodgins,” I says, saroastioal. An’ then he turned to mo (ah’ oh l Mr. Heditor, I could ’ave cried to see the difference a drop of drink had made in the egspression of my poor delooded husbing’s face) an’ says “ Oh, Sairey, you will (hio) fergive you herrin’ (hio) Sam'ol, won’t you (hie) my deer ?” he says, tryin’ to catch hold of my hand. “ Touch me not, Mr. Snodgins,” I says, “ but go upstares an’ sleep away the beest an’ wake once more a man,” I says, scornful.

“ But you wjll (hie) fergive me (hio), Sairey,” lie says. “ Yes, I will fergive you,” I says, “ but I must punish you, so that like a norty child you will not forget,” I says. Then drawin’ myself up to my full hito, I says, “ So I will egsposo your misbehaviour in Fair Elay.”

“ Oh, Sairey, don’t do that—anythink (hie) but that (hie),” he says, piteous. “ That is your punishment, Mr. Snodgins,” I says, “ an' nothink can alter mv deoission,” I says. “Very well, Sairey (hio)," ho says, “ I ’ave sinned (hie) an’ I must (hicl suffer' he says. “ Now, go to bed,” I says, dignifide. “Very well (hio), Sairey,” ho says, humble, “ I’ll go—” an’ sootin’ the aotion to the word he tried to do so, but as soon as he put ’is foot on the first store, down he went full length. Now, what shall Ido ? I thort. I s’pose I’ll after get Kate Deborah to help me (for Snodgins lay as helpless as a baby). So I calls Kate Deborah, an’ we managed to drag him on to 'is feet, an' then one on each side of him we got him up to tho spare room and lade him on the bed. An' as I went to my room I could not help thinkin’ on Burns’ words “ Oh, wud some power the giftie gie us, to see oorsels as ithers see us.”

Yes, Bobby Bums, you ore rite. If a drunken man once did see hisself, he’d never get drunk agen. An’ this, Mr. Heditor, is Sairey’s revenge and Sam’el’s punishment.—Yours trooly,