Page:Once a Week, Series 1, Volume II Dec 1859 to June 1860.pdf/374

 21, 1860.] kick; I flew further into space—a third kick, and yet further; but this time I was landed in the street, and there were no more kicks. Three such, indeed, were enough for the lifetime of any man.

“Even in the midst of my unmerited sufferings I resolved not to lose sight of the great object of my visit to the ball. What were these kicks, after all, so that I procured for myself immunity from the presence of Mrs., when I had shuffled off this mortal coil?

“I took up my station in an archway which commanded a view of the entrance of the scene of festivity, for surely at length the Wanderer would come forth with his 267th Bride, and I would summon him to keep his word, and reveal the.

“I watched for hours, and at length my patience was rewarded. I saw the Ancient Man step forth into the light with the fair-haired Miriam on his arm. He was bending over and arranging her shawl round the delicate form of the Hebrew Maiden, lest the night-wind should blow on it too roughly. They paused in expectation, and the Wanderer looked down the street. It was borne in on my mind that he was waiting for a cab. There followed the rumble of wheels which announced the approach of the vehicle in question. Now, or never, was my Time. I advanced to where the Mysterious Being was standing. He regarded me with a benevolent smile, a contrast to his behaviour during the Ball when I had endeavoured to save him—but in vain—from the talons of the hunting Leopard who was now bearing him off to her den.

‘Young man,’ he said at length, in solemn tone, ‘you meant me vell—and perhapsh I vosh hard upon you. Never you meddle mit true-love knotsh again—but now I vill tell you the shecret vithout revard. Yesh! it ish true—vunsh married—alvaysh married. The Fatal Ring binds you to all time, and throughout Eternity, unlesh—but I vill put you, my love, firsht into de cab.”cab.’ [sic]

“It was strange. The top of the cab was piled high with luggage, and as the Wanderer was about to open the door, the fattest and oldest Jewess—as I think the world ever saw—put her face to the window, and said:

‘Ikey, don’t be a fool! Come along home mit me!’

‘Shalome, ma tear, Shalome!’

‘Don’t be a fool, Ikey, come along!’

“Never shall I forget the look of horror in the Wanderer’s face, whilst he continued to pour forth the expressions of welcome, and winked at me—the traitor!—to offer my arm to the yellow-haired Miriam.

‘Shall I take a sheat by de triver, ma tear? You are shtout, and in good case; there may not be room for both inshide.’

“The lady threw open the door, and beckoned the Wanderer in. He obeyed with a passive frozen obedience. The eyes of the ancient Jewess were indeed awful as she glared at us in the moonlight. But when the Wanderer had squeezed into the cab, and the lady had pronounced the terrible word—‘Home!’ driven to despair, I rushed to the window, and clasping my hands in wild entreaty exclaimed:

‘The, Jew, the !’

“Scarcely had the words passed my lips, when I became aware that a portentous female hand and arm were thrust from the window of the cab, and I received a box on the ear worthy of such an instrument. I fell senseless to the ground.

“When I recovered my senses it was grey morning, and I was lying indeed on the pavement in a remote street near the river—but of the Wandering Jew, or his awful consort, I have never been able to recover a trace.

“Was it reality? Was it a dream? Is my fate for ever?—for ever?”

was a short silence when had brought his sad history to a conclusion. The Club was puzzled. On the whole the general idea was that our friend had been the victim of some strange delusion, to be accounted for by the magnetic influences which had been so long playing round his nervous system. He persisted, however, in his statements, and mentioned the exact spot where he found himself when he awoke from his strange stupor, or swoon. His watch and purse were both gone, and surely, as he well remarked, these could not have disappeared solely by spiritual agencies. It had always been his opinion that the fair-haired Miriam had removed them from his possession lest they might fall into dishonest hands, and had been unable to return them on account of the difficulty about the address. On the other hand, the bulk of the Members were distinctly of opinion that the peripatetic Phantom, known under the name of the, was the mere creation of the superstitious imagination of the Dark Ages. Would it be pretended that the —a similar instance—was merely a Hollander in connnbial difficulties, ever out on one cruising ground or another in order to avoid his placens uxor? More than this, the supposition involved in the eternity of the connubial tie—so at least the majority appeared to think—was so absurd as to disprove itself. The usual result of argument followed; was confirmed in his own opinion:—the Club, the same. Our poor friend was left to his despondency, and to the awful anticipation of an eternal Caroline. However, where was medicine to be found for this diseased mind?

The hour had now arrived when the G.C.’s—like so many ghosts in so many Hamlets—must return to their penitential fires. The jollity had become ghastly. There was a kind of reckless tone about the final orders given to the Acolytes which did not seem to be indicative of tranquil minds. A brief consultation was held as to the best method of commencing the great national undertaking which the Club had taken in hand. Each Member would, of course, contribute his own mite of connubial information to the common stock, and when these materials were before the Committee, they