CHAPTER XVI. A SOUTH AUSTRALIAN MISER. Miser.-An Amateur Pauper; An Oyster with a pearl in its shell. A lover who is contented with a look. Money.-An obscene heathen deity, whose worshippers The largest slave-holder in the world. An altar on which Self sacrifices to Self. A composition for taking stains out of character. Walbridge Lunn. SINCE the pleasant hours of juvenility, when I wondered at the propensities of the amiable Daniel Dancer and his sympathetic Sister, and thought of the peculiar avarice of Elwes and others of the interesting fraternity of misers; and since, in maturer age, I made the acquaintanceship of the celebrated Harpagon, immortalized by Moliere, and other master descriptions of the meanest of human vices, I never expected to have the chance of being thrown into contact with a specimen of the genus, equalling, if not surpassing, some of the most notorious of any age. In this receptacle of dulness and concentration of the meaner passions, the two prominent vices are drunkenness and covetousness. The latter is, of course, the more respectable, and almost as equally fashionable as the former, but can be carried on in a much more satisfactory manner, with the addition of religious hypocricy into the bargain. The growth of this passion is easier to be accounted for in those who have had to struggle for every penny they possess; but to see the passion developed in a married woman to a fearful extent, apparently without any ulterior object, and without the supposed satisfaction of clutching the tangible pelf, is almost incredible to those who have never had any opportunity of seeing illustrations of this passion, which is, as the proverb says, when all vices grow old, avarice is still young. How far the possession of a husband, whose own innate selfishness met with perfect sympathy in the mind of a weak woman, tended to the progress and development of her propensities, I cannot determine, but it is probable that the yearly contagion of narrow views and sectarian meannesses with the total rejection of social amusements, literature, and the amenities of educated middle-class life, has produced its harvest in the production of a satire on human nature, and a curse to the human race. This woman had also a family, but as far as social intercourse was concerned, they might as well have been emigrants in Siberia, for the dear mamma had long since discovered that tea was an expensive commodity, and a large party disturbed the equanimity of her infinitesimal tea-pot, with which she regaled herself and unfortunate husband (when at home) with the smallest allowance of weak Bohea; and when, on one occasion, he committed the weakness of introducing a gentleman to partake of a cup of tea, being driven thereto by the direful emergency of the case, his better-half and partner of his joys and sorrows exclaimed pathetically, on hearing what the new customer wanted, 66 Oh, you are always disturbing my domestic arrangements, I have got the tea made in the small tea-pot." I will now retail a few of the peculiarities of this pleasant old lady. She had a particular admiration for the due protection and development of the scarce commodity, called "Lucifer Matches." Her devotion to them was so extreme that on Monday mornings the servant was summoned with due solemnity, and seven matches were delivered to her, with the admonition that in case one missed fire, she would replace it, with the prudent proviso that the aforesaid servant should produce the original delinquent defective, in its sulphurous embellishments, as a guarantee of good faith. She had also an intense affection for the egg traffic, and generally performed the act of gathering in propria persona, it being too sacred a trust for a servant, and if the music of the cackling of a fowl was wafted on the breeze, she would rush out frantically and seize the spoil, and lock it up until she completed her number, which she then sold at the highest market price. She sent these eggs to a neighbouring store, and such was her arithmetical genius, that in no one instance did the store-keeper ever find one above the number. A friend of mine, who was standing in the store when a basketful arrived from Starvation House, Scrub Park, was surprised to see the assistant carefully counting the eggs, inquired of the storekeeper if that was the custom, when he replied not from respectable customers, but we always count the eggs of Mrs. Screwemnear. Her husband being a very poor man, with a few thousands a year, of course could not be expected to indulge in the luxury of an egg for breakfast, and if he gently remonstrated, the reply was generally that she had just completed her complement. She was intensely antagonistic to superfluous light, refraining from lighting a candle until the last possible moment, and holding it as a fixed principle that all people should go to bed in the dark, and save their tallow. On one occasion, she came on a foraging excursion in search of a servant, for she was so notorious in her own neighbourhood that no one would serve her at any price, and having succeeded in hooking a girl at low wages, who had not heard of her character, she kept her a kind of semi-prisoner at the house of a friend until she could march her off to Starvation House, and when the poor girl, who had nothing to do, was sitting reading by herself in the evening, about seven o'clock, this female turnkey entered, and seeing, with dismay, the apparition of a candle for the edification of a common servant, exclaimed, 66 There is no necessity for you to have a light; you can sit in the dark until prayer time, and then go to bed, and after this soothing illustration of apostolic serenity she blew out the candle and departed on some other work of philanthropy. Her repugnance to the illuminating power was so excessive, that when her beloved husband ordered the servant to light the passage lamp, she would secrete herself in a neighbouring room, and as soon as the work of iniquity was completed, she would sally forth and extinguish the intruder, and when the husband forgetful of his christian character would yell disapproval to the servant, the latter cooly told him on one occasion, that it was no use her lighting the lamp, for she had done so two times that evening, but so soon as it was done, Mrs. Screwemnear crept out of the corner room and blew it out. Rapid exit of the poor man shut up, by his Milesian appendage. It would have been a perfect treat for a student of a human menagerie to see the warm reception of an accidental guest or christian minister which this worthy couple gave. On one occasion a reverend gentleman came to tea, and after a long ride it might reasonably be supposed that he was hungry, and the old man asked him if he would not like a little ham, as they had one in the house, and before the unfortunate guest could reply, the old female exclaimed with vehemence nobody eats ham to tea!! nobody eats ham to tea!! It was one of the estimable tricks of this ancient receptacle of misery, to be rather deaf on ordinary occasions, but developing an extraordinary acuteness of perception of sound, when the harmonius words relating to provisions or cash. were in the ascendant. Imagine the feelings of a gentleman in such company!!! On another occasion a rather jolly doctor whose countenance betokened a decided objection to the imbibing of the stagnant and noxious waters of his adopted home, without being qualified by superior compounds, called on business and there was quite a divertisement got up by the worthy pair; he inviting Whoskietoddie to take a glass of colonial wine, which he accepted, but the host being called away Mrs. Screwemnear took the opportunity of telling the servant who was producing from the cupboard a bottle and glass, that she need not do so, as Whoskietoddie drank water. Poor Whoskietoddie sitting like patience on a monument with a red face, and observing this little interlude, which ended by the return of the host, and after a little matrimonial sparring, Whoskietoddie got his one glass of sour colonial wine. On another occasion a few relatives came to spend an hour during a warm and oppressive summer evening, when her husband was constrained to hint that perhaps a bottle of colonial wine would be agreeable to the feelings of the seven parched and miserable inhabitants of the sitting-room, which was reluctantly assented to by Screwemnear, who as a preliminary measure wrangled audibly with the servant in the |