Introducing The Volatile Miss Mowcher

The name of Miss Mowcher was announced and, in anticipation of her entrance, Mr Headstone looked at the doorway and saw nothing. He was still looking at the doorway, thinking that Miss Mowcher was a long while making her appearance, when, to his infinite astonishment, there came waddling across the floor a diminutive female individual, of about forty or forty-five, with a very large head and face and a pair of roguish grey eyes. Her chin, which was what is called a double chin, was so fat that it entirely swallowed up the strings of her bonnet, bow and all. Throat she had none; waist she had none; legs she had none, worth mentioning; she was so short that she stood at a common-sized chair as at a table, resting a bag she carried on the seat. From this bag she extracted the instruments of her trade and arranged them before her. She tilted some of the contents of a little blue bottle on to a piece of flannel, and, again imparting some of the virtues of that liquid preparation to a little brush, began rubbing and scraping at the offending bear’s grease with both until it had quite dissolved. Then with a wink and a flourish and - with a sound like that of the weasel - the lady removed Mr Headstone’s hat from his head and tossed it into the air. The fee for this service was five shillings, which Mr Headstone willingly paid. Miss Mowcher tossed up his two half-crowns like a goblin pieman, caught them, dropped them in her pocket, and gave it a loud slap. Her work complete, the lady turned about and waddled off in search of refreshment, followed by the admiring gaze of Mr Poll Sweedlepipe, Miss Mowcher being in his eyes the nonpareil of their trade.

In Which The Game Chicken Once Again Admits Defeat

If Mr. Headstone had never given any previous thought to the adhesive properties of frozen bear’s grease, he had good reason to entertain some consideration of the topic when he arrived at The George and Vulture and discovered that his hat could no longer be detached from his head. The pedagogue appealed to the Game Chicken for assistance, he being of all the assembled company the brawniest individual, and a space was cleared to allow that gentleman room to do his work. Despite the application of all his strength, combined with a strict observation of Archimedean principles, the Chicken was neither able to pry, nor to wrench, nor to twist that stubborn article from the schoolmaster’s head. Although these endeavours met with no success, the spectacle served to provide some entertainment for the guests, who applauded the performance under the mistaken belief that they were witnessing one of the tableaux vivants advertised in the programme. Mr Poll Sweedlepipe took a particular interest in the scene, and when the Chicken had finally thrown in the towel, the barber suggested that where brute strength had failed, feminine wiles might prevail. In short, he proposed that Miss Mowcher be summoned at once.

Containing Tonsorial Advice

Mr. Headstone is in the midst of his preparations for the evening’s celebration at The George and Vulture. He has put on his best clothes and has cleaned his boots over and over again. He has ornamented his waistcoat with a gold watch and chain, put a ring upon his little finger, and wears his newest silk neckerchief about his throat. He is at this precise moment standing in front of a looking glass, admiring the effect of these decorative touches upon his person whilst applying a liberal quantity of bear’s grease to his scalp. The pedagogue has taken to using this compound on the tonsorial advice of Mr. Poll Sweedlepipe, who recently received delivery of one hundred china pots of the aforementioned ursine fat from the Americas, and is eager to turn a profit on them. 

Mr. Headstone worries that he has been somewhat too liberal in his application of the grease, but his attempts to wring out the excess have no effect other than to cause him some discomfort and to produce in his appearance something of the fera naturae. Resignedly, he buttons up his great coat – for it is snowing hard outside – and, as a precaution against the wind, pulls his hat firmly down upon his crown until the fat oozes out from under the brim. The odour he trails behind him as he descends the stairs is strong enough to startle his landlady’s cat, which spits and hisses as he passes, and the pedagogue must put his faith in the cold night air to disperse the musky olfactory properties of the compound as he makes his way through the streets.

Further Proceedings Of The Society

The meeting of the Society was called to order by Mr. Swiveller, who, after some appropriate remarks, offered the following resolution, which was unanimously adopted:

Resolved: That to add a strikingly novel and agreeable feature to the intended anniversary dinner, and in compliance with the desire universally expressed, it was suggested that a number of Tableaux Vivants be performed, drawn from the novels of Mr.Dickens and shadowing forth in living pictures, the graphic and glowing delineations of this singularly gifted and original author. On motion, it was resolved, that the Chairman appoint Mr. Crummles to carry the foregoing arrangements into effect. Mr Crummles accepted the commission on the understanding that the performance of the aforesaid tableaux would be a limited engagement of one night only.

In Which The Members Of The Society Are Thrown Into A Quandary

As Mr Snodgrass had anticipated, the letter of invitation composed by Mr Headstone was met with a rapturous reception when it was read out by its author at the next meeting of the society. Having attained universal approbation for his work, the pedagogue had now only to append an address to the envelope to complete his task, but – as on so many other occasions - he seemed destined to be thwarted at the last. In short, no member of those gathered in the upper room at The George and Vulture could come to any agreement as to where the letter should be sent. Mr Snodgrass was of the firm opinion that Mr Dickens resided in Doughty Street. Mr Toots and the Game Chicken disputed this claim and were of the view that the celebrated author’s domicile was in Devonshire Terrace. Indeed, so convinced of this fact was the Chicken that he at once proposed going five rounds with Mr Snodgrass to settle the dispute, an invitation which the latter gentleman declined by taking refuge behind a chair. A debate on the question was tabled, and, the motion being carried, a lively discussion ensued; which was further enlivened by the introduction of several more suggested destinations – both at home and abroad – from the floor. When the matter was put to the vote, the house remained divided, and so it was proposed that invitations be sent to each and every address in the hope that one would find itself into the hands of the intended recipient. Having received assurances from Mr Micawber that the society’s pecuniary resources could meet the expense of the Penny Post, Mr Headstone approved the proposal, and the society moved on to other business of the day.