If you look in the bills, you will see that the steamers leave London on
Saturday morning, and Boulogne on Saturday night; so that there is often
not an hour between the time of arrival and departure. Bless us! bless
us! I pity the poor Captain that, for twenty-four hours at a time, is on
a paddle-box, roaring out, "Ease her! Stop her!" and the poor servants,
who are laying out breakfast, lunch, dinner, tea, supper;--breakfast,
lunch, dinner, tea, supper again;--for layers upon layers of travellers,
as it were; and most of all, I pity that unhappy steward, with those
unfortunate tin-basins that he must always keep an eye over. Little did
we know what a storm was brooding in our absence; and little were we
prepared for the awful, awful fate that hung over our Tuggeridgeville
property.
Biggs, of the great house of Higgs, Biggs, and Blatherwick, was our man
of business: when I arrived in London I heard that he had just set off
to Paris after me. So we started down to Tuggeridgeville instead of
going to Portland Place. As we came through the lodge-gates, we found
a crowd assembled within them; and there was that horrid Tuggeridige on
horseback, with a shabby-looking man, called Mr. Scapgoat, and his man
of business, and many more. "Mr. Scapgoat," says Tuggeridge, grinning,
and handing him over a sealed paper, "here's the lease; I leave you in
possession, and wish you good morning.
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