Frank Fairlegh | Page 8

the present
occasion. I had fallen asleep in the act of performing the character of
chief-mourner at my own funeral, and I awoke ~13~~in the highest
possible health and spirits, with a strong determination never to "say
die" under any conceivable aspect affairs might assume. "What in the
world," said I to myself, as I sprang out of bed, and began to
dress,--"What in the world was there for me to make myself so
miserable about last night? Suppose Cumberland and Lawless should
laugh at, and tease me a little at first, what does it signify? I must take it
in good part as long as I can, and if that does not do I must speak
seriously to them--tell them they really annoy me and make me
uncomfortable, and then, of course, they will leave off. As to Coleman,
I am certain------Well, it's very odd!"--this last remark was elicited by
the fact that a search I had been making for some minutes, in every
place possible and impossible, for that indispensable article of male

attire, my trousers, had proved wholly ineffectual, although I had a
distinct recollection of having placed them carefully on a chair by my
bedside the previous night. There, however, they certainly were not
now, nor, as far as I could discover, anywhere else in the room. Under
these circumstances, ringing the bell for Thomas seemed advisable, as
it occurred to me that he had probably abstracted the missing garment
for the purpose of brushing. In a few moments he answered the
summons, and, with a face bright from the combined effects of a light
heart and a severe application of yellow soap, inquired, "if I had rung
for my shaving water?"
"Why, no---I do not--that is, it was not--I seldom shave of a morning;
for the fact is, I have no beard to shave as yet."
"Oh, sir, that's no reason; there's Mr. Coleman's not got the leastest
westige of a hair upon his chin, and he's been mowing away with the
greatest of persewerance for the last six months, and sends his rashier
to be ground every three weeks, regilar, in order to get a beard--but
what can I do for you, sir?"
"Why," replied I, trying to look grave, "it's very odd, but I have
lost--that is, I can't find--my trousers anywhere. I put them on this chair
last night, I know."
"Umph! that's sing'lar, too; I was just a coming upstairs to brush 'em for
you; you did not hear anybody come into your room after you went to
bed, did you, sir?"
"No; but then I was so tired--I slept as sound as a top."
"Ah! I shouldn't much wonder if Mr. Coleman knew something about
'em: perhaps you had better put on another pair, and, if I can find 'em,
I'll bring 'em back after breakfast."
This was very good advice, and, therefore, of course, ~14~~impossible
to follow; for, on examining my trunk, lo and behold! dress pantaloons,
white ducks, et hoc genus omne, had totally disappeared, and I seemed
to stand a very good chance of making my first appearance at my

tutor's breakfast-table in an extemporary "kilt," improvised for the
occasion out of two towels and a checked neckcloth. In this extremity
Thomas, as a last resource, knocked at Coleman's door, informing him
that I should be glad to speak to him--a proceeding speedily followed
by the appearance of that gentleman in propria persona.
"Good-morning, Fairlegh! hope you slept well. You are looking cold;
had not you better get some clothes on? Mildman will be down in a
minute, and there will be a pretty row if we are not all there; he's
precious particular, I can tell you."
"That is exactly what I want to do," replied I; "but the fact is, somebody
has taken away all my trousers in the night."
"Bless me! you don't say so? Another case of pilfering! this is getting
serious: I will call Lawless--I say, Lawless!" "Well, what's the row?"
was the reply. "Have the French landed? or is the kitchen chimney on
fire? eh! What do I behold! Fairlegh, lightly and elegantly attired in
nothing but his shirt, and Thomas standing like Niobe, the picture of
woe! Here's a sight for a father!"
"Why, it's a bad job," said Coleman; "do you know, here's another case
of pilfering; Fairlegh has had all his trousers stolen in the night."
"You don't say so!" rejoined Lawless: "what is to be done? It must be
stopped somehow: we had better tell him all we know about it. Thomas,
leave the room."
Thomas obeyed, giving me a look of great intelligence, the meaning of
which, however, I was totally at a loss to conceive, as he went; and
Lawless continued:--
"I am afraid you will hardly