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Updated: June 9, 2025
He amused his mother and sisters with stories of Osgood's adventures on sea and land, and represented him in the light of a "Jarley's wax-works" hero, till he was fairly cured of his melancholy. Five months from the day on which he left New York Osgood returned, and stood on his Aunt Formica's door-steps with Dr. Black. They looked like a pair of Englishmen.
But he kept his thoughts upon a picture of a gray old farm-house by the water-side, and a bent old man and woman therein, and went on playing his game, and won it. Her face paled, and she clasped her hands. "Where is he?" she asked eagerly. "He's lying to-night in Aleck Jarley's cabin, back of the haystack." She was turning away, but he stopped her. "Wait a minute," he said.
For herself, she was to sleep in Mrs Jarley's own travelling-carriage, as a signal mark of that lady's favour and confidence. She had taken leave of her grandfather and was returning to the other waggon, when she was tempted by the coolness of the night to linger for a little while in the air.
"There child," she said, "read that!" Nell read aloud the inscription, "Jarley's Waxwork." "That's me," said the lady complacently. "I never saw any waxwork, ma'am," said Nell. "Is it funnier than Punch?" "Funnier!" said Mrs. Jarley, in a shrill voice. "It is not funny at all. It's calm and what's that word again critical? No classical, that's it it's calm and classical."
We have read in the American papers of a most wonderful new French shell that in bursting paralyzes and destroys life so instantly that all the living things within so many yards are, in a flash, set rigid in position as though manufactured for Jarley's Wax Works, the officer standing in position with uplifted arm, yet dead, the soldier by the window with a cigar in his fingers, a smile on his face, stone dead.
"A gypsy cart!" she gurgled presently, rising phoenix-like at last from a dumb-struck supineness. "A gypsy cart! Well! A wheelbarrow wouldn't have surprised me more, Diane, a wheelbarrow with a motor!" "Don't you remember Mrs. Jarley's wagon?" reminded Diane. "It had windows and curtains " "Surely," broke in Aunt Agatha with strained dignity, "you're not going in for waxworks like Mrs. Jarley!"
In order to keep the statue on the ideal plane, it should not be too realistically fashioned. If it looks too much like a man, we shall first treat it as a man, as we do one of Jarley's or Mme. Tissaud's waxworks, and then after we have been undeceived, we shall have toward it an uncanny feeling, totally unaesthetic, as towards a corpse.
While others were composed with a view to the lighter and more facetious spirits, as a parody on the favorite air of "If I had a donkey," beginning: "If I know'd a donkey what wouldn't go To see MRS. JARLEY'S wax-work show, Do you think I'd acknowledge him? Oh, no, no! Then run to Jarley's"
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