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- 8524
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:26.985Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 8459
- text
- redounded to his entertainers because they did not thrust the starving
gentleman forth when he came for his poor alms of tea and toast. Some
merit had been theirs had they clubbed together and provided him, at
small cost enough, with a sufficient income to make him, in point of
necessaries, independent of the daily dole of charity; charity not sent
to him either, but charity for which he had to trudge round to their
doors.
But the most touching thing of all were those roses in his cheeks; those
ruddy roses in his nipping winter. How they bloomed; whether meal and
milk, and tea and toast could keep them flourishing; whether now he
painted them; by what strange magic they were made to blossom so; no son
of man might tell. But there they bloomed. And besides the roses, Jimmy
was rich in smiles. He smiled ever. The lordly door which received him
to his eleemosynary teas, knew no such smiling guest as Jimmy. In his
prosperous days the smile of Jimmy was famous far and wide. It should
have been trebly famous now.
Wherever he went to tea, he had all of the news of the town to tell. By
frequenting the reading-rooms, as one privileged through harmlessness,
he kept himself informed of European affairs, and the last literature,
foreign and domestic. And of this, when encouragement was given, he
would largely talk. But encouragement was not always given. At certain
houses, and not a few, Jimmy would drop in about ten minutes before the
tea-hour, and drop out again about ten minutes after it; well knowing
that his further presence was not indispensable to the contentment or
felicity of his host.
How forlorn it was to see him so heartily drinking the generous tea, cup
after cup, and eating the flavorous bread and butter, piece after piece,
when, owing to the lateness of the dinner hour with the rest, and the
abundance of that one grand meal with them, no one besides Jimmy touched
the bread and butter, or exceeded a single cup of Souchong. And knowing
all this very well, poor Jimmy would try to hide his hunger, and yet
gratify it too, by striving hard to carry on a sprightly conversation
with his hostess, and throwing in the eagerest mouthfuls with a sort of
absent-minded air, as if he ate merely for custom’s sake, and not
starvation’s.
Poor, poor Jimmy--God guard us all--poor Jimmy Rose!
Neither did Jimmy give up his courtly ways. Whenever there were ladies
at the table, sure were they of some fine word; though, indeed,
toward the close of Jimmy’s life, the young ladies rather thought
his compliments somewhat musty, smacking of cocked hats and
small-clothes--nay, of old pawnbrokers’ shoulder-lace and sword-belts.
For there still lingered in Jimmy’s address a subdued sort of martial
air; he having in his palmy days been, among other things, a general of
the State militia. There seems a fatality in these militia generalships.
Alas! I can recall more than two or three gentlemen who from militia
generals became paupers. I am afraid to think why this is so. Is it that
this military learning in a man of an unmilitary heart--that is, a
gentle, peaceable heart--is an indication of some weak love of vain
display? But ten to one it is not so. At any rate it is unhandsome, if
not unchristian, in the happy, too much to moralise on those who are not
so.
So numerous were the houses that Jimmy visited, or so cautious was he in
timing his less welcome calls, that at certain mansions he only dropped
in about once a year or so. And annually upon seeing at that house the
blooming Miss Frances or Miss Arabella, he would profoundly bow in his
forlorn old coat, and with his soft, white hand take hers in gallant
wise, saying, ‘Ah, Miss Arabella, these jewels here are bright upon
these fingers; but brighter would they look were it not for those still
brighter diamonds of your eyes!’
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