MR. BAGGS' REVENGE.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XV, Issue 16, 12 August 1887, Page 5

MR. BAGGS' REVENGE.

(^From the London Truth,) In the pastoral county of Loamshire there are two chief landed proprietors, to wit: Lord Stork and Mr. John Baggs. Peter Gander; Baron Stork.is one of those wealthy gentlemen who were ennobled not so very long ago for what are called '' eminent political services." Before he bcame a peer, Mr. Gander was a fat, florid and vulgar person of genial appearance, but of a mean and grasping disposition, and it cannot be said that his elevation to the Upper House has worked any noteworthy reformation, either in his outer or inner man. He has only become more pompous and self-a'sertive than of old ; has discovered that an ancestor of his came over with the Conqueror, and has become strangely sensitive about bis personal appearance. To Bay that Lord Stork is fat is to make lrim an enemy for life, and had he the power he would order to instant execution the man ■who dared to insinuate that his visage is rubicund and his nose pnrple. Lord Stork breeds cattle and interests himself, after his parsimonious fashion, in matters agricultural. He has one great trouble in life, and this is the close proximity of Mr. John Baggs, whose property adjoins his own. Mr. John Bagg9 is by trade a manufacturer of agricultural manure ; the patentee of that world-renowned composition, " Baggs' Food," which •' combines all the beneficial properties of Kevalenta, Arabica, Dr. Bidge's Food for Infants, etc., etc." A fervent hatred has always subsisted between the two gentlemen, the reason for which it is unnecessary to detail, one thing at least is certain, that Lord Stork had never lost a chance of doing Mr. Baggs a bad turn, and had always spoken of vhe famous •' Food " in terms of contempt and scorn ; whereas to thwart Lord Stork in his political schemes, to Miake him ridiculous in the eyes of the county and to baffle every local plan he proposes, has long been Mr. Baggs' chiefest delight. Here is how tLe enmity of these two personages culminated : It all arose from his lordship's ill-fated determination to have his portrait painttd by an eminent R. A., and to see it hung upon the line at the Royal Academy. Lord Stork having come to this resolve, it became necessary for him to fix upon aa Academician to whom he should entrust the important task of reproducing his features on canvas. Of art he knew as much as one of his own fat cattle ; but, during a visit to London, he heard so much about the fame of Mr. Raphael Skumble, R.A., that ha resolved without consulting anybody, to employ that distinguished artist. Now, Mr. Skumble was a painter of the realistic school, he was no respecter of persons, and held strange views about rank and title. When, therefore, he saw Lord Stork with his squat, burly figure, his scarlet face and bullying manners, he acquired a sudden and intense aversion toward him, which was by no means mitigated by the way in which his lordship conducted the negotiations. " I want a good picture, 1 ' said Lord Stork ; " none of your pot boilers, knocked off in two days." " You 6hall have one," replied Mr. Skumble, feeling much inclined to kick his patron down stairs. But he reflected that the man was a splendid subject — a perfect type of the nouveau richc.

" How many sitting? shall you wantf" continued his lordship. " Very few— half a dozen at most. I always do the principal portion of my portraits alone." " That'll suit me," replied Lord Stork ; " but mind it must be well hung, and I am not going to pay till it is finished. That's agreed, eh?" " Exactly so, my lord ; we will begin next Tuesday, if con* venient.' : And then his lordship departed with some genial pleasantry about " the pots of money you painter fellows get nowadays." Sknmble began once more to wish that be had not undertaken the commission. " This is the sort of a fool who will expect me to natter him," he reflected. Still, he determined to go through with it. The sittings, therefore, took place in due course, bat during their progress the artist's antipathy toward bis noble subject became more intense than ever. " So that's all you want, is it?" said Lord Stork, as be took up his hat on the final occasion. " That is all, my lord," replied Skumble, anxious to terminate the interview. Lord Stork walked across the room, and looked at himself admiringly in a tall looking-glass. 11 There's a bit of a pimple on this cheek, I see," he went on, " and my noae looks a trifle red — the east wind you know. You'll see there's nothing of that sort in the picture now, wont yon ?" " I hope you will be satisfied." "Ah! And I'm a pretty good height" (five feet three and a half inches in high heeled boots was his lordship's precise attitude), " but I shall look taller full length, eh ?" " Most assuredly." " And the D.L. uniform. It ought to be a fine advertisement for you, Skumble — it ought indeed." Mr. Skumble bowed his sitter out in silence. His feelings bad become too deep for words. Lord Stork returned to Loamshire, and Mr. Skumble proceeded to finish the portrait, with other works destined for Burlington House. In due time it was ready for inspection, and Lord Stork having received a note to that effect, repaired to the painter's studio on the occasion of his next visit to town. " Now for the great work," he remarked as be entered. " Let's have a look at it. I've brought the cheque." The picture was veiled from public gaze, and Lord Stork took up a position a few yards away from the easel while the painter removed the covering. Scarcely, however, had this been done when his lordship's expectant grin changed to an expression of indignant surprise, and then to one of fury. For a few moments he was speechless ; but at length he spluttered forth — " Do you mean to say that's me ?" " Certainly, my lord," said Mr. Skumble, blandly. '■ Man alive 1" screamed the irate peer. " You've made me look 60, and bald, and fat, and I'm if my face is as red as that ! It'a a monstrous caricature, sir, that's what it is 1" " I have painted you, my lord, precisely as you are," replied Mr. Skumble viciously. " It's my principle not to flatter my sitters. I am always, I trust, true to life." " Curse your principles, sir! I won't have the thing! I won't 1 pay a farthing for it I You may burn it, or sell it, or do what you please with it ! Not one farthing of my money do you get! You don't know your own business, sir !" And he rushed violently out of the house, invoking all manner of maledictions upon the head of Mr. Bkumble. Left to himself that worthy at first looked as furious as his visitor, but gradually his features relaxed and he emiled grimly. " Very well, my lord," he said to himself, " it's acaiicature, is it ? and I don't know my own business, don't I ? I'll send that picture to the Academy in spite of you, my friend, and we'll see how many people will say it's not a good likeness. The ill-mannered old curmudgeon 1 I only wish I had made him uglier than he is !" The very next day Mr. Skumble received a genial note from Lord Stork, to the effect that he declined to accept or to pay for the picture, as being only a ridiculous daub, and advising the painter to burn it. Mr. Skumble replied, merely asking the privilege of selling or doing what he pleased witn the picture. Two days afterward, as luck would have it, Mr. John Bagga came to see Mr. Skumble, intent on picking up a few things for his new picture gallery. He was an old customer of Skumble's, and a free buyer, so they were excellent friends. '• Got anything that will do for me, Skumble ?" said Mr. Baggs. '• Peihaps I have," replied the artist ; " coma and have a look round. 1 haven't seen you for ages ; what have you been doing with yourself ? ' "Been busy working the 'Food,' my boj. Ah ! there's an invention for you I Better than spoiling canvas, I can tell you — here's a pretty bit of landscape now — and I like the girl's head — but about the Food, Skumble ; it's going ahead like mad. If only I could get you to sketch me but a few good posters for advertising !" " Not much in my line, I fear." "Nonsense, man ; why not? Well about this landscape — never mind the Food." And Mr. Baggs rambled round the studio, talking volubly the whole time, principally about the pictures, but with constantly recurring references to the Food. " Ever tried it yourself , Skumble?" he inquired. " No, thank you," replied the artist ; *' have you ?" " Well, I did," said Mr. Baggs ; " but you see, I'm fat enough. Now you look as if you starved yourself. It would do you a heap of good. I'll send you some." " By the way, Baggs," asked Mr. Skumble, as the inspection waa drawing to an end, " isn't Lord Stork a friend of yours? " " Well, he's a neighbour of mine," replied Mr, Baggs, guardedly ; " I know him well enough." '• I want to show you his portrait."

And Mr. Skumble unveiled the rejected picture. "Hal ha I" laughed Mr. Baggs, as be gazed at his enemy's features. " Never saw a better thing in my life 1 The very man 1 But really, now Skumble, don't you think that you've flattered him ?' " He doesn't, at all events." " Why, what do you mean ?" " Simply that he says it is a filthy caricature, and that he won't pay for it." " Well, I'm blessed, wh&t infernal impudence ! But ain't you going to make him ?" "Not I. I shall send it to the Academy as *A Portrait.' I thought of calling it ' Portrait of a Gentleman," but I really couldn't." "Well, I never saw a better likeness," said Mr, Baggs. " It's as like him as two peas ; red and pompous, and as fat as—" "As if he bad lived on your food, eh, Baggs ?" "Ha 1 ha 1" laughed Mr. Baggs again. " Capital I" And then he looked suddenly pensive, and replied at random to several questions from his host. Suddenly he burst out in a great roar of laughter. " Beg your pardon, old man," he said, " I can't help thinking about Stork and bis portrait. Look here, Skumble. Tou charged him a thousand guineas for it, didn't you f" And he won't pay. Well, I"ll give you twelve hundred, there 1" " But what on earth do you want with it ?" " I tell you it's the best portrait 1 ever caw in my life. He's a friend of mine, too. Come, is it a bargain ?" Mr. Skumble did not further resist the tempter, for his vanity was flattered, and twelve hundred guineas are not to be despised even by a successful artiat. So it was settled that the picture was to appear in the Academy, and that when the doors of Burlington House were closed for the autumn it was to be handed over to its proprietor, Mr. Baggs. I will pass ofer the wrath of Lord Stork, when he found his despised portrait in a conspicuous position upon the line — wrath which was intensified a hundred fold by the assurance of all his dearest enemies that it was positively a speaking likeness. He stormed and swore, and consulted his solicitor, but that worthy gave Ima cold comfort, pointing out that he had already abandoned erery shadow of right he might have possessed by the letter he had written to Mr. Skumble. " In fact, my lord," he remarked, " if he sold the picture to the JUuttrated London. News, to reproduce as a Christmas number, I don't Bee that you would have any remedy at all." "Good heavens ; you don't say sol" cried the peer, and he consulted an artist friend with a view of finding out if Skumble would sell the portrait at his own figure. But the friend returned with the discouraging news that the picture had already been sold, and that Mr. Skumble declined to impart any information whatever with regard to its purchaser. Whereupon Lord Stork's wrath changed to fear, and he awaited the catastrophe with nervous dread. He had not many months to wait. Let me return to Mr. Baggs. It was August, but Mr. Baggs was still in town arranging certain important matters of business. For a few days he had walked about with a preoccupied air, and it was observed that he constantly muttered to himself. The waiters at his club noticed this peculiarity, and the hall porter shook hie head mournfully as he confided to the coflee-room head waiter his fears that Mr. Baggs was suffering from Boftemng of the brain. " Thomas," he said, " that 'ere Food is gettin ' between 'im and 'is wits. I ' card him saying last night, as he went out, ' Baggs' Food for man and beast,' and then 'e said, 'beast, least, yeast' ; hang it, I can't get it 1" " 'B don't take his meals as 'c did," replied Thomas ; '• and John tells me as 'c spends hours and hours in the library a writing things on pieces of paper and a tearing of 'em hup." •' Poor man," said the porter ; and a nice, civil-spoken gentleman, too." It was past midnight and Mr. Baggs sat in the library of his club at a writing table. He wrott spasmodically at intervals ; but his effortß seemed to afford him no satisfaction. His attttude be» tokened mental perturbation ; he frequently pressed his hand to his forehead, or passed it through his gray locks, until they stood bolt upright in sympathy. " It's very odd I can't get it," he murmured plaintively. " Baggs' food is far the best — Baggs' food for man and beast, Baggs' food that's made with yeaßt — but it ain't." And he fell to staring hopelessly at the ceiling, and then began to work again, Bcribbling on bits of paper. That night went on, and the library was empty, save for one old gentleman, who had fallen asleep over the Spectator, Suddenly Mr. Baggs gave the writing table a thump with his fist which caused the old gentleman to leap in terror from his chair. Then the great Food man shouted at the top of his voice, " Hooray, I've got it I" The old gentleman fled wildly from the room, and a discreet waiter appeared. " Did you call, sir ?" 11 1 — I — beg your pardon 1" stammered Mr. Baggs. " I did not call — that is, I did ! You may bring me a brandy anU soda, Charles. Hal ha!" And Mr. Baggs laughed until even the waiter began to be under the impression that he was mad. '• Baggs' Food from Blankton East, Is far the best for man and beast 1' said Mr. Baggs' to himself. " Isn't it beautiful? And then a fat bull I Oh, it's a lovely idea 1" And he fell to chuckling once more. Soon after he left the club, and as the porter helped him on with his coat, he heard him repeating the mystic jingle — '•' Baggs' Food from Blankton-East, Is far the best for man and beast !" " Seems more easy in his mind," remarked that worthy ; " but blessed if I can make out what he is talking about !"

Lord Stork bad been shooting in Scotland, but about the middle of September he was suddenly called up to London. He arrived bad-tempered and tired at St. Pancras too late in the morning to go to bed ; so after a wash, a shave, and an apology for breakfast, ho sallied forth from Lincoln's Inn. He determined to walk, and presently he passed a boarding plastered over with staring advertisements. Mechanically he glanced up at it, when bis eyes met a sight which almost petrified him horror. It was a gigantic poster of Baggg' Pood, a huge picture representing a fat man and a fat bull, and underneath was the legend : " Baggs' Food from Blackton-East, Is far the best for man and beast I" The fat man was himself — an accurate and life-like reproduction of Mr. Skumble's famous portrait 1 .With a gasp and a snort, Lord Stork hurried onward, but only to meet the same sight everywhere. In desperation, he called a hansom, and tried to read a morning paper, but the entire back sheet of the paper was occupied with the came diabolical design. At Lincoln's Inn his solicitor gave him no comfort, and not daring to go near any of his clubs, the unhappy man took an early train for Loamshire. But every station on the load was plastered with posters of the food ; and on arriving home he found that some malicious n&g had pasted a small bill on his own lodge gate. Mr. Baggs' vengeance was complete. • • • • • * And this is the real reason why Lord Stork has just accepted the Governorship of the Bum-ti-foo Islands.