Mr. Slater's window was always adorned with a bulletin of the news of
the day, of his own writing! and this singular composition set at
defiance all rules of grammar and orthography; but he had none of the
pride of authorship, and unfeignedly thanked the village schoolmaster
for his emendations, though perhaps it might sometimes be said, that
the _correction_ was the worst of the two.
The good man also amused himself with what he called "mapping" and
"drawing." The few unoccupied spaces in his shop walls were stuck over
with representations of the Thalaba of modern history in a variety of
woful plights; and he had made more changes in the face of Europe than
that archconjurer himself--for, to elucidate the Duke of Wellington's
campaigns, he exhibited a map with Portugal at the wrong side of
Spain[3]! not failing to take similar liberties in his representations
of _actions_ of various kinds.
[Footnote 3: Matter of fact.]
It may be supposed, that a shop so filled, and a master thus
accomplished, would be unremittingly attended.--In truth, "The Shop" was
seldom empty; and what with haranguing, bargaining, and the ceaseless
creaking of the pack-thread on its ever revolving roller, with
interludes of breaking sugar, and chopping ham, the noise on market days
was so deafening, that the tower of Babel might serve as an emblem, but
that there only one faculty was confounded, whilst here three of the
five senses were assailed at once.
At the moment of Miss Wildenheim's entrance, however, a comparative
"silence reigned within the walls,"--as in the shop were only Mrs.
Temple (wife of the rector) and her youngest son and daughter, the one
teazing her for a Robinson Crusoe, the other coaxing for a doll; but at
the sight of their "dear dote Miss Wildenheim" the little petitioners
forgot their requests, and throwing their arms about her neck, to the no
small damage of the muslin frill, that contrasted its snowy whiteness
with the sable hue of her other garments, made her cheek glow with their
kisses, whilst their friendly mother not less cordially shook her hand.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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