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Updated: May 13, 2025
To James Ruskin, Esq., Railway Station Hotel, Willisden. SIR: I warn you that I will not accept any more copies of your books. I do not know the individual named Tennyson to whom you refer; but if he is the scribbler who is perpetually sending me copies of his verses, please tell him that I read no poetry except my own. Why can't you leave me alone? J. MOGGRIDGE, Poet Laureate.
But I had no proof, and an attorney fellow in Shrewsbury named Moggridge threatened me with all sorts of pains and penalties if I did not at once release the villain." "But what does the law say to it, sir?" I asked. "The law is uncommon slow to say anything, confound it!
For the evening there had been fixed an important church meeting, the first annual business meeting of minister and deacons since Londonderry had come to New Zion. It was an occasion of jubilation all round, particularly for Mr. Moggridge, who gave voice to New Zion's general satisfaction, you may be sure, in no uncertain terms of praise.
“Have a cigar?” his patient asked, taking out his case. “Thank you, sir, I don’t mind if I do.” “You will find it a capital smoke. I don’t throw them away on every one.” Moggridge, completely thawed, lit his cigar and slackened his pace, for such frank appreciation of his merits was rare in a critical world.
An audience was already gathered there; but this Theophil and Isabel avoided, entering the building by the minister's private entrance into his vestry, which communicated by a dark staircase with the chapel and the lecture-hall where the recital was to be given. There was a light in the vestry, but no one was there, though they might have expected Mr. Moggridge.
Moggridge can point out, faces that begin in one style and end in another, half Greek perhaps and half Gothic; yet even such faces, if their individuality is strong enough, have their own rococo charm.
Friend Moggridge, I trust you are prepared to spend the evening behind your bush.” He had another look through the blind and shook his head. “A little too light yet,—I’d better wait for a quarter of an hour or so.” To while away the time he proceeded to make a tour of the room, for, as he said to himself, when in an unknown country any information may possibly come in useful.
When Isabel sat down, amid hushed clapping, it was observed that Miss Jenny Talbot had fainted. Theophil sprang with others to her assistance, and Jenny, being carried into an ante-room for air and water, presently reviving, asked faintly for Mr. Moggridge to take her home, the thought of the big kind man coming into her mind with a sense of homely refuge.
There’s nothin’ to be afrightened of.” “Stand back!” she cried; “don’t come near me!” Moggridge was too staggered at this outburst to say a word. “Stand away!” she said, and the bewildered attendant stood away. She turned to Mr Beveridge. “Now, will you help me up?”
Then as the man whipped up, Mr Bunker had a glimpse of Moggridge hailing another cab, and peeping cautiously through the little window at the back he saw him starting in hot pursuit. He took five shillings out of his pocket and opened the trap-door in the roof. “Do you see that other cab chasing us, with a red-faced man inside?” “Yes, sir.” Mr Bunker handed his driver the money.
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