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the kitchen…table； and in a mug of something strong； paid for by
the unconscious Nicholas Tulrumble； and provided by the
companionable footman； drank success to the Mayor and his
procession； and； as Ned laid by his helmet to imbibe the something
strong； the companionable footman put it on his own head； to the
immeasurable and unrecordable delight of the cook and housemaid。
The companionable footman was very facetious to Ned； and Ned was
very gallant to the cook and housemaid by turns。 They were all
very cosy and comfortable； and the something strong went briskly
round。
At last Ned Twigger was loudly called for； by the procession
people： and； having had his helmet fixed on； in a very complicated
manner； by the companionable footman； and the kind housemaid； and
the friendly cook； he walked gravely forth； and appeared before the
multitude。
The crowd roared … it was not with wonder； it was not with
surprise； it was most decidedly and unquestionably with laughter。
'What！' said Mr。 Tulrumble； starting up in the four…wheel chaise。
'Laughing？ If they laugh at a man in real brass armour； they'd
laugh when their own fathers were dying。 Why doesn't he go into
his place； Mr。 Jennings？ What's he rolling down towards us for？ he
has no business here！'
'I am afraid； sir … ' faltered Mr。 Jennings。
'Afraid of what； sir？' said Nicholas Tulrumble； looking up into the
secretary's face。
'I am afraid he's drunk； sir；' replied Mr。 Jennings。
Nicholas Tulrumble took one look at the extraordinary figure that
was bearing down upon them； and then； clasping his secretary by the
arm； uttered an audible groan in anguish of spirit。
It is a melancholy fact that Mr。 Twigger having full licence to
demand a single glass of rum on the putting on of every piece of
the armour； got； by some means or other； rather out of his
calculation in the hurry and confusion of preparation； and drank
about four glasses to a piece instead of one； not to mention the
something strong which went on the top of it。 Whether the brass
armour checked the natural flow of perspiration； and thus prevented
the spirit from evaporating； we are not scientific enough to know；
but； whatever the cause was； Mr。 Twigger no sooner found himself
outside the gate of Mudfog Hall； than he also found himself in a
very considerable state of intoxication； and hence his
extraordinary style of progressing。 This was bad enough； but； as
if fate and fortune had conspired against Nicholas Tulrumble； Mr。
Twigger； not having been penitent for a good calendar month； took
it into his head to be most especially and particularly
sentimental； just when his repentance could have been most
conveniently dispensed with。 Immense tears were rolling down his
cheeks； and he was vainly endeavouring to conceal his grief by
applying to his eyes a blue cotton pocket…handkerchief with white
spots； … an article not strictly in keeping with a suit of armour
some three hundred years old； or thereabouts。
'Twigger； you villain！' said Nicholas Tulrumble； quite forgetting
his dignity； 'go back。'
'Never；' said Ned。 'I'm a miserable wretch。 I'll never leave
you。'
The by…standers of course received this declaration with
acclamations of 'That's right； Ned； don't！'
'I don't intend it；' said Ned； with all the obstinacy of a very
tipsy man。 'I'm very unhappy。 I'm the wretched father of an
unfortunate family； but I am very faithful； sir。 I'll never leave
you。' Having reiterated this obliging promise； Ned proceeded in
broken words to harangue the crowd upon the number of years he had
lived in Mudfog； the excessive respectability of his character； and
other topics of the like nature。
'Here！ will anybody lead him away？' said Nicholas： 'if they'll
call on me afterwards； I'll reward them well。'
Two or three men stepped forward； with the view of bearing Ned off；
when the secretary interposed。
'Take care！ take care！' said Mr。 Jennings。 'I beg your pardon；
sir； but they'd better not go too near him； because； if he falls
over； he'll certainly crush somebody。'
At this hint the crowd retired on all sides to a very respectful
distance； and left Ned； like the Duke of Devonshire； in a little
circle of his own。
'But； Mr。 Jennings；' said Nicholas Tulrumble； 'he'll be
suffocated。'
'I'm very sorry for it； sir；' replied Mr。 Jennings； 'but nobody can
get that armour off； without his own assistance。 I'm quite certain
of it from the way he put it on。'
Here Ned wept dolefully； and shook his helmeted head； in a manner
that might have touched a heart of stone； but the crowd had not
hearts of stone； and they laughed heartily。
'Dear me； Mr。 Jennings；' said Nicholas； turning pale at the
possibility of Ned's being smothered in his antique costume … 'Dear
me； Mr。 Jennings； can nothing be done with him？'
'Nothing at all；' replied Ned； 'nothing at all。 Gentlemen； I'm an
unhappy wretch。 I'm a body； gentlemen； in a brass coffin。' At
this poetical idea of his own conjuring up； Ned cried so much that
the people began to get sympathetic； and to ask what Nicholas
Tulrumble meant by putting a man into such a machine as that； and
one individual in a hairy waistcoat like the top of a trunk； who
had previously expressed his opinion that if Ned hadn't been a poor
man； Nicholas wouldn't have dared do it； hinted at the propriety of
breaking the four…wheel chaise； or Nicholas's head； or both； which
last compound proposition the crowd seemed to consider a very good
notion。
It was not acted upon； however； for it had hardly been broached；
when Ned Twigger's wife made her appearance abruptly in the little
circle before noticed； and Ned no sooner caught a glimpse of her
face and form； than from the mere force of habit he set off towards
his home just as fast as his legs could carry him； and that was not
very quick in the present instance either； for； however ready they
might have been to carry HIM； they couldn't get on very well under
the brass armour。 So； Mrs。 Twigger had plenty of time to denounce
Nicholas Tulrumble to his face： to express her opinion that he was
a decided monster； and to intimate that； if her ill…used husband
sustained any personal damage from the brass armour； she would have
the law of Nicholas Tulrumble for manslaughter。 When she had said
all this with due vehemence； she posted after Ned； who was dragging
himself along as best he could； and deploring his unhappiness in
most dismal tones。
What a wailing and screaming Ned's children raised when he got home
at last！ Mrs。 Twigger tried to undo the armour； first in one
place； and then in another； but she couldn't manage it； so she
tumbled Ned into bed； helmet； armour； gauntlets； and all。 Such a
creaking as the bedstead made； under Ned's weight in his new suit！
It didn't break down though； and there Ned lay； like the anonymous
vessel in the Bay of Biscay； till next day； drinking barley…water；
and looking miserable： and every time he groaned； his good lady
said it served him right； which was all the consolation Ned Twigger
got。
Nicholas Tulrumble and the gorgeous procession went on together to
the town…hall； amid the hisses and groans of all the spectators；
who had suddenly taken it into their heads to consider poor Ned a
martyr。 Nicholas was formally installed in his new office； in
acknowledgment of which ceremony he delivered himself of a speech；
composed by the secretary； which was very long； and no doubt very
good； only the noise of the people outside prevented anybody from
hearing it； but Nicholas Tulrumble himself。 After which； the
procession got back to Mudfog Hall any how it could； and Nicholas
and the corporation sat down to dinner。
But the dinner was flat； and Nicholas was disappointed。 They were
such dull sleepy old fellows； that corporation。 Nicholas made
quite as long speeches as the Lord Mayor of London had done； nay；
he said the very same things that the Lord Mayor of London had
said； and the deuce a cheer the corporation gave him。 There was
only one man in the party who was thoroughly awake； and he was
insolent； and called him Nick。 Nick！ What would be the
consequence； thought Nicholas； of anybody presuming to call the
Lord Mayor of London 'Nick！' He should like to know what the
sword…bearer would say to that； or the recorder； or the toast…
master； or any other of the great officers of the city。 They'd
nick him。
But these were not the worst of Nicholas Tulrumble's doings。 If
they had been； he might have remained a Mayor to this day； and have
talked till he lost his voice。 He contracted a relish for
statistics； and got philosophical； and the statistics and the
philosophy together； led him into an act which increased his
unpopularity and hastened his downfall。
At the very end of the Mudfog High…street； and abutting on the
river…side； stands the Joll