How strange that while every sight and sound was sufficient
to embitter the heart and fill it with misanthropy, his pen should be
dropping the honey of Hybla. Yet it is more than probable that he drew
many of his inimitable pictures of low life from the scenes which
surrounded him in this abode. The circumstance of Mrs. Tibbs being
obliged to wash her husband's two shirts in a neighbor's house, who
refused to lend her washtub, may have been no sport of fancy, but a
fact passing under his own eye. His landlady may have sat for the
picture, and Beau Tibbs' scanty wardrobe have been a facsimile of his
own.
It was with some difficulty that we found our way to Dribble's
lodgings. They were up two pair of stairs, in a room that looked upon
the court, and when we entered he was seated on the edge of his bed,
writing at a broken table. He received us, however, with a free, open,
poor devil air, that was irresistible. It is true he did at first
appear slightly confused; buttoned up his waistcoat a little higher and
tucked in a stray frill of linen. But he recollected himself in an
instant; gave a half swagger, half leer, as he stepped forth to receive
us; drew a three-legged stool for Mr. Buckthorne; pointed me to a
lumbering old damask chair that looked like a dethroned monarch in
exile, and bade us welcome to his garret.
We soon got engaged in conversation. Buckthorne and he had much to say
about early school scenes; and as nothing opens a man's heart more than
recollections of the kind, we soon drew from him a brief outline of his
literary career.
Pages:
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131