MEN'S WIVES

By William Makepeace Thackeray

Contents. 

The Ravenswing. 

I. Which is entirely introductory--contains an account of Miss Crump, her suitors, and her family circle. 

II. In which Mr. Walker makes three attempts to ascertain the dwellingof Morgiana. 

III. What came of Mr. Walker's discovery of the "Bootjack. "

IV. In which the heroine has a number more lovers, and cuts a verydashing figure in the world. 

V. In which Mr. Walker falls into difficulties, and Mrs. Walker makesmany foolish attempts to rescue him. 

VI. In which Mr. Walker still remains in difficulties, but shows greatresignation under his misfortunes. 

VII. In which Morgiana advances towards fame and honour, and in whichseveral great literary characters make their appearance. 

VIII. In which Mr. Walker shows great prudence and forbearance. 

Mr. And Mrs. Frank Berry. 

I. The fight at Slaughter House. 

II. The combat at Versailles. 

Dennis Haggarty's wife. 

MEN'S WIVES, BY G. FITZ-BOODLE

THE RAVENSWING

CHAPTER I. WHICH IS ENTIRELY INTRODUCTORY--CONTAINS AN ACCOUNT OF MISSCRUMP, HER SUITORS, AND HER FAMILY CIRCLE. 

In a certain quiet and sequestered nook of the retired village ofLondon--perhaps in the neighbourhood of Berkeley Square, or at anyrate somewhere near Burlington Gardens--there was once a house ofentertainment called the "Bootjack Hotel. " Mr. Crump, the landlord, had, in the outset of life, performed the duties of Boots in some inn evenmore frequented than his own, and, far from being ashamed of his origin, as many persons are in the days of their prosperity, had thus solemnlyrecorded it over the hospitable gate of his hotel. 

Crump married Miss Budge, so well known to the admirers of the festivedance on the other side of the water as Miss Delancy; and they hadone daughter, named Morgiana, after that celebrated part in the "FortyThieves" which Miss Budge performed with unbounded applause both atthe "Surrey" and "The Wells. " Mrs. Crump sat in a little bar, profuselyornamented with pictures of the dancers of all ages, from Hillisberg, Rose, Parisot, who plied the light fantastic toe in 1805, down to theSylphides of our day. There was in the collection a charming portrait ofherself, done by De Wilde; she was in the dress of Morgiana, and in theact of pouring, to very slow music, a quantity of boiling oil into oneof the forty jars. In this sanctuary she sat, with black eyes, blackhair, a purple face and a turban, and morning, noon, or night, as youwent into the parlour of the hotel, there was Mrs. Crump taking tea(with a little something in it), looking at the fashions, or readingCumberland's "British Theatre. " The Sunday Times was her paper, for shevoted the Dispatch, that journal which is taken in by most ladies of herprofession, to be vulgar and Radical, and loved the theatrical gossip inwhich the other mentioned journal abounds. 

The fact is, that the "Royal Bootjack, " though a humble, was a verygenteel house; and a very little persuasion would induce Mr. Crump, ashe looked at his own door in the sun, to tell you that he had himselfonce drawn off with that very bootjack the top-boots of His RoyalHighness the Prince of Wales and the first gentleman in Europe. While, then, the houses of entertainment in the neighbourhood were loud intheir pretended Liberal politics, the "Bootjack" stuck to the good oldConservative line, and was only frequented by such persons as were ofthat way of thinking. There were two parlours, much accustomed, one forthe gentlemen of the shoulder-knot, who came from the houses of theiremployers hard by; another for some "gents who used the 'ouse, " as Mrs. Crump would say (Heaven bless her!) in her simple Cockniac dialect, andwho formed a little club there. 

I forgot to say that while Mrs. C. Was sipping her eternal tea orwashing up her endless blue china, you might often hear Miss Morgianaemployed at the little red-silk cottage piano, singing, "Come where thehaspens quiver, " or "Bonny lad, march over hill and furrow, " or "My artand lute, " or any other popular piece of the day. And the dear girl sangwith very considerable skill, too, for she had a fine loud voice, which, if not always in tune, made up for that defect by its great energy andactivity; and Morgiana was not content with singing the mere tune, butgave every one of the roulades, flourishes, and ornaments as she heardthem at the theatres by Mrs. Humby, Mrs. Waylett, or Madame Vestris. The girl had a fine black eye like her mamma, a grand enthusiasm forthe stage, as every actor's child will have, and, if the truth must beknown, had appeared many and many a time at the theatre in CatherineStreet, in minor parts first, and then in Little Pickle, in Desdemona, in Rosina, and in Miss Foote's part where she used to dance: I have notthe name to my hand, but think it is Davidson. Four times in the week, at least, her mother and she used to sail off at night to some place ofpublic amusement, for Mrs. Crump had a mysterious acquaintance withall sorts of theatrical personages; and the gates of her old haunt "TheWells, " of the "Cobourg" (by the kind permission of Mrs. Davidge), nay, of the "Lane" and the "Market" themselves, flew open before her"Open sesame, " as the robbers' door did to her colleague, Ali Baba(Hornbuckle), in the operatic piece in which she was so famous. 

Beer was Mr. Crump's beverage, diversified by a little gin, in theevenings; and little need be said of this gentleman, except that hedischarged his duties honourably, and filled the president's chair atthe club as completely as it could possibly be filled; for he could noteven sit in it in his greatcoat, so accurately was the seat adapted tohim. His wife and daughter, perhaps, thought somewhat slightingly ofhim, for he had no literary tastes, and had never been at a theatresince he took his bride from one. He was valet to Lord Slapper at thetime, and certain it is that his lordship set him up in the "Bootjack, "and that stories HAD been told. But what are such to you or me? Letbygones be bygones; Mrs. Crump was quite as honest as her neighbours, and Miss had five hundred pounds to be paid down on the day of herwedding. 

Those who know the habits of the British tradesman are aware that he hasgregarious propensities like any lord in the land; that he loves a joke, that he is not averse to a glass; that after the day's toil he is happyto consort with men of his degree; and that as society is not so faradvanced among us as to allow him to enjoy the comforts of splendidclub-houses, which are open to many persons with not a tenth part of hispecuniary means, he meets his friends in the cosy tavern parlour, wherea neat sanded floor, a large Windsor chair, and a glass of hot somethingand water, make him as happy as any of the clubmen in their magnificentsaloons. 

At the "Bootjack" was, as we have said, a very genteel and selectsociety, called the "Kidney Club, " from the fact that on Saturdayevenings a little graceful supper of broiled kidneys was usuallydiscussed by the members of the club. Saturday was their grand night;not but that they met on all other nights in the week when inclined forfestivity: and indeed some of them could not come on Saturdays in thesummer having elegant villas in the suburbs, where they passed thesix-and-thirty hours of recreation that are happily to be found at theend of every week. 

There was Mr. Balls, the great grocer of South Audley Street, a warmman, who, they say, had his twenty thousand pounds; Jack Snaffle, of themews hard by, a capital fellow for a song; Clinker, the ironmonger:all married gentlemen, and in the best line of business; Tressle, theundertaker, etc. No liveries were admitted into the room, as may beimagined, but one or two select butlers and major-domos joined thecircle; for the persons composing it knew very well how important itwas to be on good terms with these gentlemen and many a time my lord'saccount would never have been paid, and my lady's large order never havebeen given, but for the conversation which took place at the "Bootjack, "and the friendly intercourse subsisting between all the members of thesociety. 

The tiptop men of the society were two bachelors, and two as fashionabletradesmen as any in the town: Mr. Woolsey, from Stultz's, of the famoushouse of Linsey, Woolsey and Co. Of Conduit Street, Tailors; and Mr. Eglantine, the celebrated perruquier and perfumer of Bond Street, whosesoaps, razors, and patent ventilating scalps are know throughout Europe. Linsey, the senior partner of the tailors' firm had his handsome mansionin Regent's Park, drove his buggy, and did little more than lend hisname to the house. Woolsey lived in it, was the working man of the firm, and it was said that his cut was as magnificent as that of any man inthe profession. Woolsey and Eglantine were rivals in many ways--rivalsin fashion, rivals in wit, and, above all, rivals for the hand ofan amiable young lady whom we have already mentioned, the dark-eyedsongstress Morgiana Crump. They were both desperately in love with her, that was the truth; and each, in the absence of the other, abused hisrival heartily. Of the hairdresser Woolsey said, that as for Eglantinebeing his real name, it was all his (Mr. Woolsey's) eye; that he was inthe hands of the Jews, and his stock and grand shop eaten up by usury. And with regard to Woolsey, Eglantine remarked, that his pretenceof being descended from the Cardinal was all nonsense; that he was apartner, certainly, in the firm, but had only a sixteenth share; andthat the firm could never get their moneys in, and had an immense numberof bad debts in their books. As is usual, there was a great deal oftruth and a great deal of malice in these tales; however, the gentlemenwere, take them all in all, in a very fashionable way of business, andhad their claims to Miss Morgiana's hand backed by the parents. Mr. Crump was a partisan of the tailor; while Mrs. C. Was a strong advocatefor the claims of the enticing perfumer. 

Now, it was a curious fact, that these two gentlemen were each inneed of the other's services--Woolsey being afflicted with prematurebaldness, or some other necessity for a wig still more fatal--Eglantinebeing a very fat man, who required much art to make his figure at alldecent. He wore a brown frock-coat and frogs, and attempted by all sortsof contrivances to hide his obesity; but Woolsey's remark, that, dressas he would, he would always look like a snob, and that there wasonly one man in England who could make a gentleman of him, went to theperfumer's soul; and if there was one thing on earth he longed for (notincluding the hand of Miss Crump) it was to have a coat from Linsey's, in which costume he was sure that Morgiana would not resist him. 

If Eglantine was uneasy about the coat, on the other hand he attackedWoolsey atrociously on the score of his wig; for though the latter wentto the best makers, he never could get a peruke to sit naturally uponhim and the unhappy epithet of Mr. Wiggins, applied to him on oneoccasion by the barber, stuck to him ever after in the club, andmade him writhe when it was uttered. Each man would have quitted the"Kidneys" in disgust long since, but for the other--for each had anattraction in the place, and dared not leave the field in possession ofhis rival. 

To do Miss Morgiana justice, it must be said, that she did not encourageone more than another; but as far as accepting eau-de-Cologne andhair-combs from the perfumer--some opera tickets, a treat to Greenwich, and a piece of real Genoa velvet for a bonnet (it had originally beenintended for a waistcoat), from the admiring tailor, she had beenequally kind to each, and in return had made each a present of a lockof her beautiful glossy hair. It was all she had to give, poor girl!and what could she do but gratify her admirers by this cheap and artlesstestimony of her regard? A pretty scene and quarrel took place betweenthe rivals on the day when they discovered that each was in possessionof one of Morgiana's ringlets. 

Such, then, were the owners and inmates of the little "Bootjack, "from whom and which, as this chapter is exceedingly discursive anddescriptive, we must separate the reader for a while, and carry him--itis only into Bond Street, so no gentleman need be afraid--carry him intoBond Street, where some other personages are awaiting his consideration. 

Not far from Mr. Eglantine's shop in Bond Street, stand, as is very wellknown, the Windsor Chambers. The West Diddlesex Association (WesternBranch), the British and Foreign Soap Company, the celebrated attorneysKite and Levison, have their respective offices here; and as the namesof the other inhabitants of the chambers are not only painted on thewalls, but also registered in Mr. Boyle's "Court Guide, " it is quiteunnecessary that they should be repeated here. Among them, on theentresol (between the splendid saloons of the Soap Company on the firstfloor, with their statue of Britannia presenting a packet of the soap toEurope, Asia, Africa, and America, and the West Diddlesex Western Branchon the basement)--lives a gentleman by the name of Mr. Howard Walker. The brass plate on the door of that gentleman's chambers had the word"Agency" inscribed beneath his name; and we are therefore at libertyto imagine that he followed that mysterious occupation. In person Mr. Walker was very genteel; he had large whiskers, dark eyes (with a slightcast in them), a cane, and a velvet waistcoat. He was a member of aclub; had an admission to the opera, and knew every face behind thescenes; and was in the habit of using a number of French phrases in hisconversation, having picked up a smattering of that language during aresidence "on the Continent;" in fact, he had found it very convenientat various times of his life to dwell in the city of Boulogne, wherehe acquired a knowledge of smoking, ecarte, and billiards, which wasafterwards of great service to him. He knew all the best tables intown, and the marker at Hunt's could only give him ten. He had somefashionable acquaintances too, and you might see him walking arm-in-armwith such gentlemen as my Lord Vauxhall, the Marquess of Billingsgate, or Captain Buff; and at the same time nodding to young Moses, thedandy bailiff; or Loder, the gambling-house keeper; or Aminadab, thecigar-seller in the Quadrant. Sometimes he wore a pair of moustaches, and was called Captain Walker; grounding his claim to that title uponthe fact of having once held a commission in the service of Her Majestythe Queen of Portugal. It scarcely need be said that he had been throughthe Insolvent Court many times. But to those who did not know hishistory intimately there was some difficulty in identifying him with theindividual who had so taken the benefit of the law, inasmuch as inhis schedule his name appeared as Hooker Walker, wine-merchant, commission-agent, music-seller, or what not. The fact is, that though hepreferred to call himself Howard, Hooker was his Christian name, and ithad been bestowed on him by his worthy old father, who was a clergyman, and had intended his son for that profession. But as the old gentlemandied in York gaol, where he was a prisoner for debt, he was never ableto put his pious intentions with regard to his son into execution; andthe young fellow (as he was wont with many oaths to assert) was thrownon his own resources, and became a man of the world at a very early age. 

What Mr. Howard Walker's age was at the time of the commencement of thishistory, and, indeed, for an indefinite period before or afterwards, itis impossible to determine. If he were eight-and-twenty, as he assertedhimself, Time had dealt hardly with him: his hair was thin, there weremany crows'-feet about his eyes, and other signs in his countenanceof the progress of decay. If, on the contrary, he were forty, as SamSnaffle declared, who himself had misfortunes in early life, and vowedhe knew Mr. Walker in Whitecross Street Prison in 1820, he was a veryyoung-looking person considering his age. His figure was active andslim, his leg neat, and he had not in his whiskers a single white hair. 

It must, however, be owned that he used Mr. Eglantine's RegenerativeUnction (which will make your whiskers as black as your boot), and, infact, he was a pretty constant visitor at that gentleman's emporium;dealing with him largely for soaps and articles of perfumery, which hehad at an exceedingly low rate. Indeed, he was never known to pay Mr. Eglantine one single shilling for those objects of luxury, and, havingthem on such moderate terms, was enabled to indulge in them prettycopiously. Thus Mr. Walker was almost as great a nosegay as Mr. Eglantine himself: his handkerchief was scented with verbena, his hairwith jessamine, and his coat had usually a fine perfume of cigars, whichrendered his presence in a small room almost instantaneously remarkable. I have described Mr. Walker thus accurately, because, in truth, itis more with characters than with astounding events that this littlehistory deals, and Mr. Walker is one of the principal of our dramatispersonae. 

And so, having introduced Mr. W. , we will walk over with him to Mr. Eglantine's emporium, where that gentleman is in waiting, too, to havehis likeness taken. 

There is about an acre of plate glass under the Royal arms on Mr. Eglantine's shop-window; and at night, when the gas is lighted, and thewashballs are illuminated, and the lambent flame plays fitfully overnumberless bottles of vari-coloured perfumes--now flashes on a caseof razors, and now lightens up a crystal vase, containing a hundredthousand of his patent tooth-brushes--the effect of the sight may beimagined. You don't suppose that he is a creature who has those odious, simpering wax figures in his window, that are called by the vulgardummies? He is above such a wretched artifice; and it is my beliefthat he would as soon have his own head chopped off, and placed as atrunkless decoration to his shop-window, as allow a dummy to figurethere. On one pane you read in elegant gold letters "Eglantinia"--'tishis essence for the handkerchief; on the other is written "RegenerativeUnction"--'tis his invaluable pomatum for the hair. 

There is no doubt about it: Eglantine's knowledge of his professionamounts to genius. He sells a cake of soap for seven shillings, forwhich another man would not get a shilling, and his tooth-brushes go offlike wildfire at half-a-guinea apiece. If he has to administer rouge orpearl-powder to ladies, he does it with a mystery and fascination whichthere is no resisting, and the ladies believe there are no cosmeticslike his. He gives his wares unheard-of names, and obtains for them sumsequally prodigious. He CAN dress hair--that is a fact--as few men inthis age can; and has been known to take twenty pounds in a singlenight from as many of the first ladies of England when ringlets were infashion. The introduction of bands, he says, made a difference of twothousand pounds a year in his income; and if there is one thing in theworld he hates and despises, it is a Madonna. "I'm not, " says he, "atradesman--I'm a HARTIST" (Mr. Eglantine was born in London)--"I'm ahartist; and show me a fine 'ead of air, and I'll dress it for nothink. "He vows that it was his way of dressing Mademoiselle Sontag's hair, thatcaused the count her husband to fall in love with her; and he has a lockof it in a brooch, and says it was the finest head he ever saw, exceptone, and that was Morgiana Crump's. 

With his genius and his position in the profession, how comes it, then, that Mr. Eglantine was not a man of fortune, as many a less clever hasbeen? If the truth must be told, he loved pleasure, and was in the handsof the Jews. He had been in business twenty years: he had borrowed athousand pounds to purchase his stock and shop; and he calculated thathe had paid upwards of twenty thousand pounds for the use of the onethousand, which was still as much due as on the first day when heentered business. He could show that he had received a thousand dozenof champagne from the disinterested money-dealers with whom he usuallynegotiated his paper. He had pictures all over his "studios, " which hadbeen purchased in the same bargains. If he sold his goods at an enormousprice, he paid for them at a rate almost equally exorbitant. Therewas not an article in his shop but came to him through his Israeliteproviders; and in the very front shop itself sat a gentleman who was thenominee of one of them, and who was called Mr. Mossrose. He was there tosuperintend the cash account, and to see that certain instalments werepaid to his principals, according to certain agreements entered intobetween Mr. Eglantine and them. 

Having that sort of opinion of Mr. Mossrose which Damocles may have hadof the sword which hung over his head, of course Mr. Eglantine hated hisforeman profoundly. "HE an artist, " would the former gentleman exclaim;"why, he's only a disguised bailiff! Mossrose indeed! The chap's name'sAmos, and he sold oranges before he came here. " Mr. Mossrose, on hisside, utterly despised Mr. Eglantine, and looked forward to the day whenhe would become the proprietor of the shop, and take Eglantine for aforeman; and then it would HIS turn to sneer and bully, and ride thehigh horse. 

Thus it will be seen that there was a skeleton in the great perfumer'shouse, as the saying is: a worm in his heart's core, and though to allappearance prosperous, he was really in an awkward position. 

What Mr. Eglantine's relations were with Mr. Walker may be imagined fromthe following dialogue which took place between the two gentlemen atfive o'clock one summer's afternoon, when Mr. Walker, issuing from hischambers, came across to the perfumer's shop:--

"Is Eglantine at home, Mr. Mossrose?" said Walker to the foreman, whosat in the front shop. 

"Don't know--go and look" (meaning go and be hanged); for Mossrose alsohated Mr. Walker. 

"If you're uncivil I'll break your bones, Mr. AMOS, " says Mr. Walker, sternly. 

"I should like to see you try, Mr. HOOKER Walker, " replies the undauntedshopman; on which the Captain, looking several tremendous canings athim, walked into the back room or "studio. "

"How are you, Tiny my buck?" says the Captain. "Much doing?"

"Not a soul in town. I 'aven't touched the hirons all day, " replied Mr. Eglantine, in rather a desponding way. 

"Well, just get them ready now, and give my whiskers a turn. I'm goingto dine with Billingsgate and some out-and-out fellows at the 'Regent, 'and so, my lad, just do your best. "

"I can't, " says Mr. Eglantine. "I expect ladies, Captain, every minute. "

"Very good; I don't want to trouble such a great man, I'm sure. Good-bye, and let me hear from you THIS DAY WEEK, Mr. Eglantine. ""This day week" meant that at seven days from that time a certain billaccepted by Mr. Eglantine would be due, and presented for payment. 

"Don't be in such a hurry, Captain--do sit down. I'll curl you in oneminute. And, I say, won't the party renew?"

"Impossible--it's the third renewal. "

"But I'll make the thing handsome to you;--indeed I will. "

"How much?"

"Will ten pounds do the business?"

"What! offer my principal ten pounds? Are you mad, Eglantine?--A littlemore of the iron to the left whisker. "

"No, I meant for commission. "

"Well, I'll see if that will do. The party I deal with, Eglantine, haspower, I know, and can defer the matter no doubt. As for me, you know, I'VE nothing to do in the affair, and only act as a friend between youand him. I give you my honour and soul, I do. "

"I know you do, my dear sir. " The last two speeches were lies. Theperfumer knew perfectly well that Mr. Walker would pocket the tenpounds; but he was too easy to care for paying it, and too timid toquarrel with such a powerful friend. And he had on three differentoccasions already paid ten pounds' fine for the renewal of the bill inquestion, all of which bonuses he knew went to his friend Mr. Walker. 

Here, too, the reader will perceive what was, in part, the meaning ofthe word "Agency" on Mr. Walker's door. He was a go-between betweenmoney-lenders and borrowers in this world, and certain small sums alwaysremained with him in the course of the transaction. He was an agent forwine, too; an agent for places to be had through the influence ofgreat men; he was an agent for half-a-dozen theatrical people, male andfemale, and had the interests of the latter especially, it was said, at heart. Such were a few of the means by which this worthy gentlemancontrived to support himself, and if, as he was fond of high living, gambling, and pleasures of all kinds, his revenue was not large enoughfor his expenditure--why, he got into debt, and settled his bills thatway. He was as much at home in the Fleet as in Pall Mall, and quite ashappy in the one place as in the other. "That's the way I take things, "would this philosopher say. "If I've money, I spend; if I've credit, I borrow; if I'm dunned, I whitewash; and so you can't beat me down. "Happy elasticity of temperament! I do believe that, in spite of hismisfortunes and precarious position, there was no man in England whoseconscience was more calm, and whose slumbers were more tranquil, thanthose of Captain Howard Walker. 

As he was sitting under the hands of Mr. Eglantine, he reverted to "theladies, " whom the latter gentleman professed to expect; said he was asly dog, a lucky ditto, and asked him if the ladies were handsome. 

Eglantine thought there could be no harm in telling a bouncer to agentleman with whom he was engaged in money transactions; and so, togive the Captain an idea of his solvency and the brilliancy of hisfuture prospects, "Captain, " said he, "I've got a hundred and eightypounds out with you, which you were obliging enough to negotiate for me. Have I, or have I not, two bills out to that amount?"

"Well, my good fellow, you certainly have; and what then?"

"What then? Why, I bet you five pounds to one, that in three monthsthose bills are paid. "

"Done! five pounds to one. I take it. "

This sudden closing with him made the perfumer rather uneasy; but he wasnot to pay for three months, and so he said, "Done!" too, and went on:"What would you say if your bills were paid?"

"Not mine; Pike's. "

"Well, if Pike's were paid; and the Minories' man paid, and every singleliability I have cleared off; and that Mossrose flung out of winder, andme and my emporium as free as hair?"

"You don't say so? Is Queen Anne dead? and has she left you a fortune?or what's the luck in the wind now?"

"It's better than Queen Anne, or anybody dying. What should you say toseeing in that very place where Mossrose now sits (hang him!)--seeingthe FINEST HEAD OF 'AIR NOW IN EUROPE? A woman, I tell you--aslap-up lovely woman, who, I'm proud to say, will soon be called Mrs. Heglantine, and will bring me five thousand pounds to her fortune. "

"Well, Tiny, this IS good luck indeed. I say, you'll be able to do abill or two for ME then, hay? You won't forget an old friend?"

"That I won't. I shall have a place at my board for you, Capting; andmany's the time I shall 'ope to see you under that ma'ogany. "

"What will the French milliner say? She'll hang herself for despair, Eglantine. "

"Hush! not a word about 'ER. I've sown all my wild oats, I tell you. Eglantine is no longer the gay young bachelor, but the sober marriedman. I want a heart to share the feelings of mine. I want repose. I'mnot so young as I was: I feel it. "

"Pooh! pooh! you are--you are--"

"Well, but I sigh for an 'appy fireside; and I'll have it. "

"And give up that club which you belong to, hay?"

"'The Kidneys?' Oh! of course, no married man should belong to suchplaces: at least, I'LL not; and I'll have my kidneys broiled at home. But be quiet, Captain, if you please; the ladies appointed to--"

"And is it THE lady you expect? eh, you rogue!"

"Well, get along. It's her and her Ma. "

But Mr. Walker determined he wouldn't get along, and would see theselovely ladies before he stirred. 

The operation on Mr. Walker's whiskers being concluded, he was arranginghis toilet before the glass in an agreeable attitude: his neck out, his enormous pin settled in his stock to his satisfaction, his eyescomplacently directed towards the reflection of his left and favouritewhisker. Eglantine was laid on a settee, in an easy, though melancholyposture; he was twiddling the tongs with which he had just operated onWalker with one hand, and his right-hand ringlet with the other, and hewas thinking--thinking of Morgiana; and then of the bill which was tobecome due on the 16th; and then of a light-blue velvet waistcoat withgold sprigs, in which he looked very killing, and so was trudging roundin his little circle of loves, fears, and vanities. "Hang it!" Mr. Walker was thinking, "I AM a handsome man. A pair of whiskers like mineare not met with every day. If anybody can see that my tuft is dyed, mayI be--" When the door was flung open, and a large lady with a curlon her forehead, yellow shawl, a green-velvet bonnet with feathers, half-boots, and a drab gown with tulips and other large exotics paintedon it--when, in a word, Mrs. Crump and her daughter bounced into theroom. 

"Here we are, Mr. E, " cries Mrs. Crump, in a gay folatre confidentialair. "But law! there's a gent in the room!"

"Don't mind me, ladies, " said the gent alluded to, in his fascinatingway. "I'm a friend of Eglantine's; ain't I, Egg? a chip of the oldblock, hay?"

"THAT you are, " said the perfumer, starting up. 

"An 'air-dresser?" asked Mrs. Crump. "Well, I thought he was; there'ssomething, Mr. E. , in gentlemen of your profession so exceeding, souncommon distangy. "

"Madam, you do me proud, " replied the gentleman so complimented, withgreat presence of mind. "Will you allow me to try my skill upon you, orupon Miss, your lovely daughter? I'm not so clever as Eglantine, but nobad hand, I assure you. "

"Nonsense, Captain, " interrupted the perfumer, who was uncomfortablesomehow at the rencontre between the Captain and the object of hisaffection. "HE'S not in the profession, Mrs. C. This is my friendCaptain Walker, and proud I am to call him my friend. " And then aside toMrs. C. , "One of the first swells on town, ma'am--a regular tiptopper. "

Humouring the mistake which Mrs. Crump had just made, Mr. Walker thrustthe curling-irons into the fire in a minute, and looked round at theladies with such a fascinating grace, that both, now made acquaintedwith his quality, blushed and giggled, and were quite pleased. Mammalooked at 'Gina, and 'Gina looked at mamma; and then mamma gave 'Gina alittle blow in the region of her little waist, and then both burst outlaughing, as ladies will laugh, and as, let us trust, they may laughfor ever and ever. Why need there be a reason for laughing? Let us laughwhen we are laughy, as we sleep when we are sleepy. And so Mrs. Crumpand her demoiselle laughed to their hearts' content; and both fixedtheir large shining black eyes repeatedly on Mr. Walker. 

"I won't leave the room, " said he, coming forward with the heated ironin his hand, and smoothing it on the brown paper with all the dexterityof a professor (for the fact is, Mr. W. Every morning curled his ownimmense whiskers with the greatest skill and care)--"I won't leave theroom, Eglantine my boy. My lady here took me for a hairdresser, and so, you know, I've a right to stay. "

"He can't stay, " said Mrs. Crump, all of a sudden, blushing as red as apeony. 

"I shall have on my peignoir, Mamma, " said Miss, looking at thegentleman, and then dropping down her eyes and blushing too. 

"But he can't stay, 'Gina, I tell you: do you think that I would, beforea gentleman, take off my--"

"Mamma means her FRONT!" said Miss, jumping up, and beginning to laughwith all her might; at which the honest landlady of the "Bootjack, " wholoved a joke, although at her own expense, laughed too, and said that noone, except Mr. Crump and Mr. Eglantine, had ever seen her without theornament in question. 

"DO go now, you provoking thing, you!" continued Miss C. To Mr. Walker;"I wish to hear the hoverture, and it's six o'clock now, and we shallnever be done against then:" but the way in which Morgiana said "DO go, "clearly indicated "don't" to the perspicacious mind of Mr. Walker. 

"Perhaps you 'ad better go, " continued Mr. Eglantine, joining in thissentiment, and being, in truth, somewhat uneasy at the admiration whichhis "swell friend" excited. 

"I'll see you hanged first, Eggy my boy! Go I won't, until these ladieshave had their hair dressed: didn't you yourself tell me that MissCrump's was the most beautiful hair in Europe? And do you think thatI'll go away without seeing it? No, here I stay. "

"You naughty wicked odious provoking man!" said Miss Crump. But, at thesame time, she took off her bonnet, and placed it on one of the sidecandlesticks of Mr. Eglantine's glass (it was a black-velvet bonnet, trimmed with sham lace, and with a wreath of nasturtiums, convolvuluses, and wallflowers within), and then said, "Give me the peignoir, Mr. Archibald, if you please;" and Eglantine, who would do anything for herwhen she called him Archibald, immediately produced that garment, andwrapped round the delicate shoulders of the lady, who, removing a shamgold chain which she wore on her forehead, two brass hair-combs set withglass rubies, and the comb which kept her back hair together--removingthem, I say, and turning her great eyes towards the stranger, and givingher head a shake, down let tumble such a flood of shining waving heavyglossy jetty hair, as would have done Mr. Rowland's heart good to see. It tumbled down Miss Morgiana's back, and it tumbled over her shoulders, it tumbled over the chair on which she sat, and from the midst of it herjolly bright-eyed rosy face beamed out with a triumphant smile, whichsaid, "A'n't I now the most angelic being you ever saw?"

"By Heaven! it's the most beautiful thing I ever saw!" cried Mr. Walker, with undisguised admiration. 

"ISN'T it?" said Mrs. Crump, who made her daughter's triumph her own. "Heigho! when I acted at 'The Wells' in 1820, before that dear girl wasborn, _I_ had such a head of hair as that, to a shade, sir, to a shade. They called me Ravenswing on account of it. I lost my head of hair whenthat dear child was born, and I often say to her, 'Morgiana, you cameinto the world to rob your mother of her 'air. ' Were you ever at 'TheWells, ' sir, in 1820? Perhaps you recollect Miss Delancy? I am that MissDelancy. Perhaps you recollect, --

 "'Tink-a-tink, tink-a-tink, By the light of the star, On the blue river's brink, I heard a guitar. 

 "'I heard a guitar, On the blue waters clear, And knew by its mu-u-sic, That Selim was near!'

You remember that in the 'Bagdad Bells'? Fatima, Delancy; Selim, Benlomond (his real name was Bunnion: and he failed, poor fellow, inthe public line afterwards). It was done to the tambourine, and dancingbetween each verse, --

 "'Tink-a-tink, tink-a-tink, How the soft music swells, And I hear the soft clink Of the minaret bells!

 "'Tink-a--'"

"Oh!" here cried Miss Crump, as if in exceeding pain (and whether Mr. Eglantine had twitched, pulled, or hurt any one individual hair of thatlovely head I don't know)--"Oh, you are killing me, Mr. Eglantine!"

And with this mamma, who was in her attitude, holding up the end of herboa as a visionary tambourine, and Mr. Walker, who was looking at her, and in his amusement at the mother's performances had almost forgottenthe charms of the daughter--both turned round at once, and looked ather with many expressions of sympathy, while Eglantine, in a voice ofreproach, said, "KILLED you, Morgiana! I kill YOU?"

"I'm better now, " said the young lady, with a smile--"I'm better, Mr. Archibald, now. " And if the truth must be told, no greater coquette thanMiss Morgiana existed in all Mayfair--no, not among the most fashionablemistresses of the fashionable valets who frequented the "Bootjack. " Shebelieved herself to be the most fascinating creature that the world everproduced; she never saw a stranger but she tried these fascinations uponhim; and her charms of manner and person were of that showy sort whichis most popular in this world, where people are wont to admire most thatwhich gives them the least trouble to see; and so you will find a tulipof a woman to be in fashion when a little humble violet or daisy ofcreation is passed over without remark. Morgiana was a tulip amongwomen, and the tulip fanciers all came flocking round her. 

Well, the said "Oh" and "I'm better now, Mr. Archibald, " therebysucceeded in drawing everybody's attention to her lovely self. By thelatter words Mr. Eglantine was specially inflamed; he glanced at Mr. Walker, and said, "Capting! didn't I tell you she was a CREECHER? Seeher hair, sir: it's as black and as glossy as satting. It weighs fifteenpound, that hair, sir; and I wouldn't let my apprentice--that blunderingMossrose, for instance (hang him!)--I wouldn't let anyone but myselfdress that hair for five hundred guineas! Ah, Miss Morgiana, rememberthat you MAY ALWAYS have Eglantine to dress your hair!--remember that, that's all. " And with this the worthy gentleman began rubbing delicatelya little of the Eglantinia into those ambrosial locks, which he lovedwith all the love of a man and an artist. 

And as for Morgiana showing her hair, I hope none of my readers willentertain a bad opinion of the poor girl for doing so. Her locks wereher pride; she acted at the private theatre "hair parts, " where shecould appear on purpose to show them in a dishevelled state; and thather modesty was real, and not affected may be proved by the fact thatwhen Mr. Walker, stepping up in the midst of Eglantine's last speech, took hold of a lock of her hair very gently with his hand, she cried"Oh!" and started with all her might. And Mr. Eglantine observedvery gravely, "Capting! Miss Crump's hair is to be seen and not to betouched, if you please. "

"No more it is, Mr. Eglantine!" said her mamma. "And now, as it's cometo my turn, I beg the gentleman will be so obliging as to go. "

"MUST I?" cried Mr. Walker; and as it was half-past six, and he wasengaged to dinner at the "Regent Club, " and as he did not wish to makeEglantine jealous, who evidently was annoyed by his staying, he took hishat just as Miss Crump's coiffure was completed, and saluting her andher mamma, left the room. 

"A tip-top swell, I can assure you, " said Eglantine, nodding after him:"a regular bang-up chap, and no MISTAKE. Intimate with the Marquess ofBillingsgate, and Lord Vauxhall, and that set. "

"He's very genteel, " said Mrs. Crump. 

"Law! I'm sure I think nothing of him, " said Morgiana. 

And Captain Walker walked towards his club, meditating on the beautiesof Morgiana. "What hair, " said he, "what eyes the girl has! they're asbig as billiard-balls; and five thousand pounds. Eglantine's in luck!five thousand pounds--she can't have it, it's impossible!"

No sooner was Mrs. Crump's front arranged, during the time of whichoperation Morgiana sat in perfect contentment looking at the last Frenchfashions in the Courrier des Dames, and thinking how her pink satinslip would dye, and make just such a mantilla as that represented in theengraving--no sooner was Mrs. Crump's front arranged, than both ladies, taking leave of Mr. Eglantine, tripped back to the "Bootjack Hotel" inthe neighbourhood, where a very neat green fly was already in waiting, the gentleman on the box of which (from a livery-stable in theneighbourhood) gave a knowing touch to his hat, and a salute with hiswhip, to the two ladies, as they entered the tavern. 

"Mr. W. 's inside, " said the man--a driver from Mr. Snaffle'sestablishment; "he's been in and out this score of times, and lookingdown the street for you. " And in the house, in fact, was Mr. Woolsey, the tailor, who had hired the fly, and was engaged to conduct the ladiesthat evening to the play. 

It was really rather too bad to think that Miss Morgiana, after going toone lover to have her hair dressed, should go with another to the play;but such is the way with lovely woman! Let her have a dozen admirers, and the dear coquette will exercise her power upon them all: and as alady, when she has a large wardrobe, and a taste for variety in dress, will appear every day in a different costume, so will the young andgiddy beauty wear her lovers, encouraging now the black whiskers, nowsmiling on the brown, now thinking that the gay smiling rattle of anadmirer becomes her very well, and now adopting the sad sentimentalmelancholy one, according as her changeful fancy prompts her. Let us notbe too angry with these uncertainties and caprices of beauty; and dependon it that, for the most part, those females who cry out loudest againstthe flightiness of their sisters, and rebuke their undue encouragementof this man or that, would do as much themselves if they had the chance, and are constant, as I am to my coat just now, because I have no other. 

"Did you see Doubleyou, 'Gina dear?" said her mamma, addressing thatyoung lady. "He's in the bar with your Pa, and has his military coatwith the king's buttons, and looks like an officer. "

This was Mr. Woolsey's style, his great aim being to look like an armygent, for many of whom he in his capacity of tailor made those splendidred and blue coats which characterise our military. As for the royalbutton, had not he made a set of coats for his late Majesty, GeorgeIV. ? and he would add, when he narrated this circumstance, "Sir, PrinceBlucher and Prince Swartzenberg's measure's in the house now; and what'smore, I've cut for Wellington. " I believe he would have gone to St. Helena to make a coat for Napoleon, so great was his ardour. He wore ablue-black wig, and his whiskers were of the same hue. He was brief andstern in conversations; and he always went to masquerades and balls in afield-marshal's uniform. 

"He looks really quite the thing to-night, " continued Mrs. Crump. 

"Yes, " said 'Gina; "but he's such an odious wig, and the dye of hiswhiskers always comes off on his white gloves. "

"Everybody has not their own hair, love, " continued Mrs. Crump with asigh; "but Eglantine's is beautiful. "

"Every hairdresser's is, " answered Morgiana, rather contemptuously;"but what I can't bear is that their fingers is always so very fat andpudgy. "

In fact, something had gone wrong with the fair Morgiana. Was it thatshe had but little liking for the one pretender or the other? Was itthat young Glauber, who acted Romeo in the private theatricals, was faryounger and more agreeable than either? Or was it, that seeing aREAL GENTLEMAN, such as Mr. Walker, with whom she had had her firstinterview, she felt more and more the want of refinement in her otherdeclared admirers? Certain, however, it is, that she was very reservedall the evening, in spite of the attentions of Mr. Woolsey; that sherepeatedly looked round at the box-door, as if she expected someone toenter; and that she partook of only a very few oysters, indeed, out ofthe barrel which the gallant tailor had sent down to the "Bootjack, " andoff which the party supped. 

"What is it?" said Mr. Woolsey to his ally, Crump, as they sat togetherafter the retirement of the ladies. "She was dumb all night. She neveronce laughed at the farce, nor cried at the tragedy, and you know shelaughs and cries uncommon. She only took half her negus, and not above aquarter of her beer. "

"No more she did!" replied Mr. Crump, very calmly. "I think it mustbe the barber as has been captivating her: he dressed her hair for theplay. "

"Hang him, I'll shoot him!" said Mr. Woolsey. "A fat foolish effeminatebeast like that marry Miss Morgiana? Never! I WILL shoot him. I'llprovoke him next Saturday--I'll tread on his toe--I'll pull his nose. "

"No quarrelling at the 'Kidneys!'" answered Crump sternly; "there shallbe no quarrelling in that room as long as I'm in the chair!"

"Well, at any rate you'll stand my friend?"

"You know I will, " answered the other. "You are honourable, and I likeyou better than Eglantine. I trust you more than Eglantine, sir. You'remore of a man than Eglantine, though you ARE a tailor; and I wish withall my heart you may get Morgiana. Mrs. C. Goes the other way, I know:but I tell you what, women will go their own ways, sir, and Morgy'slike her mother in this point, and depend upon it, Morgy will decide forherself. "

Mr. Woolsey presently went home, still persisting in his plan for theassassination of Eglantine. Mr. Crump went to bed very quietly, andsnored through the night in his usual tone. Mr. Eglantine passed somefeverish moments of jealousy, for he had come down to the club in theevening, and had heard that Morgiana was gone to the play with hisrival. And Miss Morgiana dreamed, of a man who was--must we sayit?--exceedingly like Captain Howard Walker. "Mrs. Captain So-and-so!"thought she. "Oh, I do love a gentleman dearly!"

And about this time, too, Mr. Walker himself came rolling home fromthe "Regent, " hiccupping. "Such hair!--such eyebrows!--such eyes! likeb-b-billiard-balls, by Jove!"

CHAPTER II. IN WHICH MR. WALKER MAKES THREE ATTEMPTS TO ASCERTAIN THEDWELLING OF MORGIANA. 

The day after the dinner at the "Regent Club, " Mr. Walker stepped overto the shop of his friend the perfumer, where, as usual, the young man, Mr. Mossrose, was established in the front premises. 

For some reason or other, the Captain was particularly good-humoured;and, quite forgetful of the words which had passed between him and Mr. Eglantine's lieutenant the day before, began addressing the latter withextreme cordiality. 

"A good morning to you, Mr. Mossrose, " said Captain Walker. "Why, sir, you look as fresh as your namesake--you do, indeed, now, Mossrose. "

"You look ash yellow ash a guinea, " responded Mr. Mossrose, sulkily. Hethought the Captain was hoaxing him. 

"My good sir, " replies the other, nothing cast down, "I drank rather toofreely last night. "

"The more beast you!" said Mr. Mossrose. 

"Thank you, Mossrose; the same to you, " answered the Captain. 

"If you call me a beast, I'll punch your head off!" answered the youngman, who had much skill in the art which many of his brethren practise. 

"I didn't, my fine fellow, " replied Walker. "On the contrary, you--"

"Do you mean to give me the lie?" broke out the indignant Mossrose, whohated the agent fiercely, and did not in the least care to conceal hishate. 

In fact, it was his fixed purpose to pick a quarrel with Walker, and todrive him, if possible, from Mr. Eglantine's shop. "Do you mean to giveme the lie, I say, Mr. Hooker Walker?"

"For Heaven's sake, Amos, hold your tongue!" exclaimed the Captain, towhom the name of Hooker was as poison; but at this moment a customerstepping in, Mr. Amos exchanged his ferocious aspect for a bland grin, and Mr. Walker walked into the studio. 

When in Mr. Eglantine's presence, Walker, too, was all smiles in aminute, sank down on a settee, held out his hand to the perfumer, andbegan confidentially discoursing with him. 

"SUCH a dinner, Tiny my boy, " said he; "such prime fellows to eatit, too! Billingsgate, Vauxhall, Cinqbars, Buff of the Blues, andhalf-a-dozen more of the best fellows in town. And what do you think thedinner cost a head? I'll wager you'll never guess. "

"Was it two guineas a head?--In course I mean without wine, " said thegenteel perfumer. 

"Guess again!"

"Well, was it ten guineas a head? I'll guess any sum you please, "replied Mr. Eglantine: "for I know that when you NOBS are together, youdon't spare your money. I myself, at the "Star and Garter" at Richmond, once paid--"

"Eighteenpence?"

"Heighteenpence, sir!--I paid five-and-thirty shillings per 'ead. I'dhave you to know that I can act as a gentleman as well as any othergentleman, sir, " answered the perfumer with much dignity. 

"Well, eighteenpence was what WE paid, and not a rap more, upon myhonour. "

"Nonsense, you're joking. The Marquess of Billinsgate dine foreighteenpence! Why, hang it, if I was a marquess, I'd pay a five-poundnote for my lunch. "

"You little know the person, Master Eglantine, " replied the Captain, with a smile of contemptuous superiority; "you little know the realman of fashion, my good fellow. Simplicity, sir--simplicity's thecharacteristic of the real gentleman, and so I'll tell you what we hadfor dinner. "

"Turtle and venison, of course:--no nob dines without THEM. "

"Psha! we're sick of 'em! We had pea soup and boiled tripe! What do youthink of THAT? We had sprats and herrings, a bullock's heart, a bakedshoulder of mutton and potatoes, pig's-fry and Irish stew. _I_ orderedthe dinner, sir, and got more credit for inventing it than they evergave to Ude or Soyer. The Marquess was in ecstasies, the Earl devouredhalf a bushel of sprats, and if the Viscount is not laid up with asurfeit of bullock's heart, my name's not Howard Walker. Billy, as Icall him, was in the chair, and gave my health; and what do you thinkthe rascal proposed?"

"What DID his Lordship propose?"

"That every man present should subscribe twopence, and pay for my shareof the dinner. By Jove! it is true, and the money was handed to me ina pewter-pot, of which they also begged to make me a present. Weafterwards went to Tom Spring's, from Tom's to the 'Finish, ' from the'Finish' to the watch-house--that is, THEY did--and sent for me, just asI was getting into bed, to bail them all out. "

"They're happy dogs, those young noblemen, " said Mr Eglantine; "nothingbut pleasure from morning till night; no affectation neither--no HOTURE;but manly downright straightforward good fellows. "

"Should you like to meet them, Tiny my boy?" said the Captain. 

"If I did sir, I hope I should show myself to be gentleman, " answeredMr. Eglantine. 

"Well, you SHALL meet them, and Lady Billingsgate shall order herperfumes at your shop. We are going to dine, next week, all our set, at Mealy-faced Bob's, and you shall be my guest, " cried the Captain, slapping the delighted artist on the back. "And now, my boy, tell me howYOU spent the evening. "

"At my club, sir, " answered Mr. Eglantine, blushing rather. 

"What! not at the play with the lovely black-eyed Miss--What is hername, Eglantine?

"Never mind her name, Captain, " replied Eglantine, partly from prudenceand partly from shame. He had not the heart to own it was Crump, and hedid not care that the Captain should know more of his destined bride. 

"You wish to keep the five thousand to yourself--eh, you rogue?"responded the Captain, with a good-humoured air, although exceedinglymortified; for, to say the truth, he had put himself to the troubleof telling the above long story of the dinner, and of promising tointroduce Eglantine to the lords, solely that he might elicit from thatgentleman's good-humour some further particulars regarding the younglady with the billiard-ball eyes. It was for the very same reason, too, that he had made the attempt at reconciliation with Mr. Mossrose whichhad just so signally failed. Nor would the reader, did he know Mr. W. Better, at all require to have the above explanation; but as yet we areonly at the first chapter of his history, and who is to know what thehero's motives can be unless we take the trouble to explain?

Well, the little dignified answer of the worthy dealer in bergamot, "NEVER MIND HER NAME, CAPTAIN!" threw the gallant Captain quite aback;and though he sat for a quarter of an hour longer, and was exceedinglykind; and though he threw out some skilful hints, yet the perfumer wasquite unconquerable; or, rather, he was too frightened to tell: thepoor fat timid easy good-natured gentleman was always the prey ofrogues, --panting and floundering in one rascal's snare or another's. Hehad the dissimulation, too, which timid men have; and felt the presenceof a victimiser as a hare does of a greyhound. Now he would be quitestill, now he would double, and now he would run, and then came the end. He knew, by his sure instinct of fear, that the Captain had, in askingthese questions, a scheme against him, and so he was cautious, andtrembled, and doubted. And oh! how he thanked his stars when LadyGrogmore's chariot drove up, with the Misses Grogmore, who wanted theirhair dressed, and were going to a breakfast at three o'clock!

"I'll look in again, Tiny, " said the Captain, on hearing the summons. 

"DO, Captain, " said the other: "THANK YOU;" and went into the lady'sstudio with a heavy heart. 

"Get out of the way, you infernal villain!" roared the Captain, withmany oaths, to Lady Grogmore's large footman, with ruby-coloured tights, who was standing inhaling the ten thousand perfumes of the shop; and thelatter, moving away in great terror, the gallant agent passed out, quiteheedless of the grin of Mr. Mossrose. 

Walker was in a fury at his want of success, and walked down Bond Streetin a fury. "I WILL know where the girl lives!" swore he. "I'll spend afive-pound note, by Jove! rather than not know where she lives!"

"THAT YOU WOULD--I KNOW YOU WOULD!" said a little grave low voice, allof a sudden, by his side. "Pooh! what's money to you?"

Walker looked down: it was Tom Dale. 

Who in London did not know little Tom Dale? He had cheeks like an apple, and his hair curled every morning, and a little blue stock, and alwaystwo new magazines under his arm, and an umbrella and a little brownfrock-coat, and big square-toed shoes with which he went PAPPING downthe street. He was everywhere at once. Everybody met him every day, andhe knew everything that everybody ever did; though nobody ever knew whatHE did. He was, they say, a hundred years old, and had never dined athis own charge once in those hundred years. He looked like a figure outof a waxwork, with glassy clear meaningless eyes: he always spoke witha grin; he knew what you had for dinner the day before he met you, andwhat everybody had had for dinner for a century back almost. He wasthe receptacle of all the scandal of all the world, from Bond Streetto Bread Street; he knew all the authors, all the actors, all the"notorieties" of the town, and the private histories of each. That is, he never knew anything really, but supplied deficiencies of truth andmemory with ready-coined, never-failing lies. He was the most benevolentman in the universe, and never saw you without telling you everythingmost cruel of your neighbour, and when he left you he went to do thesame kind turn by yourself. 

"Pooh! what's money to you, my dear boy?" said little Tom Dale, who hadjust come out of Ebers's, where he had been filching an opera-ticket. "You make it in bushels in the City, you know you do---in thousands. I saw you go into Eglantine's. Fine business that; finest in London. Five-shilling cakes of soap, my dear boy. I can't wash with such. Thousands a year that man has made--hasn't he?"

"Upon my word, Tom, I don't know, " says the Captain. 

"YOU not know? Don't tell me. You know everything--you agents. You KNOWhe makes five thousand a year--ay, and might make ten, but you know whyhe don't. "

"Indeed I don't. "

"Nonsense. Don't humbug a poor old fellow like me. Jews--Amos--fifty percent. , ay? Why can't he get his money from a good Christian?"

"I HAVE heard something of that sort, " said Walker, laughing. "Why, byJove, Tom, you know everything!"

"YOU know everything, my dear boy. You know what a rascally trick thatopera creature served him, poor fellow. Cashmere shawls--Storr andMortimer's--'Star and Garter. ' Much better dine quiet off pea-soup andsprats--ay? His betters have, as you know very well. "

"Pea-soup and sprats! What! have you heard of that already?"

"Who bailed Lord Billingsgate, hey, you rogue?" and here Tom gave aknowing and almost demoniacal grin. "Who wouldn't go to the 'Finish'?Who had the piece of plate presented to him filled with sovereigns? Andyou deserved it, my dear boy--you deserved it. They said it was onlyhalfpence, but I know better!" and here Tom went off in a cough. 

"I say, Tom, " cried Walker, inspired with a sudden thought, "you, whoknow everything, and are a theatrical man, did you ever know a MissDelancy, an actress?"

"At 'Sadler's Wells' in '16? Of course I did. Real name was Budge. LordSlapper admired her very much, my dear boy. She married a man by thename of Crump, his Lordship's black footman, and brought him fivethousand pounds; and they keep the 'Bootjack' public-house in Bunker'sBuildings, and they've got fourteen children. Is one of them handsome, eh, you sly rogue--and is it that which you will give five pounds toknow? God bless you, my dear dear boy. Jones, my dear friend, how areyou?"

And now, seizing on Jones, Tom Dale left Mr. Walker alone, and proceededto pour into Mr. Jones's ear an account of the individual whom he hadjust quitted; how he was the best fellow in the world, and Jones KNEWit; how he was in a fine way of making his fortune; how he had been inthe Fleet many times, and how he was at this moment employed in lookingout for a young lady of whom a certain great marquess (whom Jones knewvery well, too) had expressed an admiration. 

But for these observations, which he did not hear, Captain Walker, itmay be pronounced, did not care. His eyes brightened up, he marchedquickly and gaily away; and turning into his own chambers oppositeEglantine's, shop, saluted that establishment with a grin of triumph. "You wouldn't tell me her name, wouldn't you?" said Mr. Walker. "Well, the luck's with me now, and here goes. "

Two days after, as Mr. Eglantine, with white gloves and a case ofeau-de-Cologne as a present in his pocket, arrived at the "BootjackHotel, " Little Bunker's Buildings, Berkeley Square (for it mustout--that was the place in which Mr. Crump's inn was situated), he paused for a moment at the threshold of the little house ofentertainment, and listened, with beating heart, to the sound ofdelicious music that a well-known voice was uttering within. 

The moon was playing in silvery brightness down the gutter of the humblestreet. A "helper, " rubbing down one of Lady Smigsmag's carriage-horses, even paused in his whistle to listen to the strain. Mr. Tressle's man, who had been professionally occupied, ceased his tap-tap upon the coffinwhich he was getting in readiness. The greengrocer (there is always agreengrocer in those narrow streets, and he goes out in white Berlingloves as a supernumerary footman) was standing charmed at his littlegreen gate; the cobbler (there is always a cobbler too) was drunk, asusual, of evenings, but, with unusual subordination, never sang exceptwhen the refrain of the ditty arrived, when he hiccupped it forth withtipsy loyalty; and Eglantine leaned against the chequers painted onthe door-side under the name of Crump, and looked at the red illuminedcurtain of the bar, and the vast well-known shadow of Mrs. Crump'sturban within. Now and again the shadow of that worthy matron's handwould be seen to grasp the shadow of a bottle; then the shadow of acup would rise towards the turban, and still the strain proceeded. Eglantine, I say, took out his yellow bandanna, and brushed the beadydrops from his brow, and laid the contents of his white kids on hisheart, and sighed with ecstatic sympathy. The song began, --

 "Come to the greenwood tree, [1] Come where the dark woods be, Dearest, O come with me! Let us rove--O my love--O my love! O my-y love!

(Drunken Cobbler without) O my-y love!"

"Beast!" says Eglantine. 

 "Come--'tis the moonlight hour, Dew is on leaf and flower, Come to the linden bower, Let us rove--O my love--O my love! Let us ro-o-ove, lurlurliety; yes, we'll rove, lurlurliety, Through the gro-o-ove, lurlurliety--lurlurli-e-i-e-i-e-i!

(Cobbler, as usual)-- Let us ro-o-ove, " etc. 

"YOU here?" says another individual, coming clinking up the street, ina military-cut dress-coat, the buttons whereof shone very bright in themoonlight. "YOU here, Eglantine?--You're always here. "

"Hush, Woolsey, " said Mr. Eglantine to his rival the tailor (for hewas the individual in question); and Woolsey, accordingly, put hisback against the opposite door-post and chequers, so that (with poorEglantine's bulk) nothing much thicker than a sheet of paper could passout or in. And thus these two amorous caryatides kept guard as the songcontinued:--

 "Dark is the wood, and wide, Dangers, they say, betide; But, at my Albert's side, Nought, I fear, O my love--O my love!

 "Welcome the greenwood tree, Welcome the forest tree, Dearest, with thee, with thee, Nought I fear, O my love--O ma-a-y love!"

Eglantine's fine eyes were filled with tears as Morgiana passionatelyuttered the above beautiful words. Little Woolsey's eyes glistened, ashe clenched his fist with an oath, and said, "Show me any singing thatcan beat THAT. Cobbler, shut your mouth, or I'll break your head!"

But the cobbler, regardless of the threat, continued to perform the"Lurlurliety" with great accuracy; and when that was ended, both on hispart and Morgiana's, a rapturous knocking of glasses was heard in thelittle bar, then a great clapping of hands, and finally somebody shouted"Brava!"

"Brava!"

At that word Eglantine turned deadly pale, then gave a start, then arush forward, which pinned, or rather cushioned, the tailor against thewall; then twisting himself abruptly round, he sprang to the door of thebar, and bounced into that apartment. 

"HOW ARE YOU, MY NOSEGAY?" exclaimed the same voice which had shouted"Brava!" It was that of Captain Walker. 

At ten o'clock the next morning, a gentleman, with the King's buttonon his military coat, walked abruptly into Mr. Eglantine's shop, and, turning on Mr. Mossrose, said, "Tell your master I want to see him. "

"He's in his studio, " said Mr. Mossrose. 

"Well, then, fellow, go and fetch him!"

And Mossrose, thinking it must be the Lord Chamberlain, or DoctorPraetorius at least, walked into the studio, where the perfumer wasseated in a very glossy old silk dressing-gown, his fair hair hangingover his white face, his double chin over his flaccid whity-brownshirt-collar, his pea-green slippers on the hob, and on the fire the potof chocolate which was simmering for his breakfast. A lazier fellowthan poor Eglantine it would be hard to find; whereas, on the contrary, Woolsey was always up and brushed, spick-and-span, at seven o'clock; andhad gone through his books, and given out the work for the journeymen, and eaten a hearty breakfast of rashers of bacon, before Eglantine hadput the usual pound of grease to his hair (his fingers were always asdamp and shiny as if he had them in a pomatum-pot), and arranged hisfigure for the day. 

"Here's a gent wants you in the shop, " says Mr. Mossrose, leaving thedoor of communication wide open. 

"Say I'm in bed, Mr. Mossrose; I'm out of sperrets, and really can seenobody. "

"It's someone from Vindsor, I think; he's got the royal button, " saysMossrose. 

"It's me--Woolsey, " shouted the little man from the shop. 

Mr. Eglantine at this jumped up, made a rush to the door leading to hisprivate apartment, and disappeared in a twinkling. But it must not beimagined that he fled in order to avoid Mr. Woolsey. He only went awayfor one minute just to put on his belt, for he was ashamed to be seenwithout it by his rival. 

This being assumed, and his toilet somewhat arranged, Mr. Woolsey wasadmitted into his private room. And Mossrose would have heard everyword of the conversation between those two gentlemen, had not Woolsey, opening the door, suddenly pounced on the assistant, taken him bythe collar, and told him to disappear altogether into the shop: whichMossrose did; vowing he would have his revenge. 

The subject on which Woolsey had come to treat was an important one. "Mr. Eglantine, " says he, "there's no use disguising from one anotherthat we are both of us in love with Miss Morgiana, and that our chancesup to this time have been pretty equal. But that Captain whom youintroduced, like an ass as you were--"

"An ass, Mr. Woolsey! I'd have you to know, sir, that I'm no more a hassthan you are, sir; and as for introducing the Captain, I did no suchthing. "

"Well, well, he's got a-poaching into our preserves somehow. He'sevidently sweet upon the young woman, and is a more fashionable chapthan either of us two. We must get him out of the house, sir--we mustcircumwent him; and THEN, Mr. Eglantine, will be time enough for you andme to try which is the best man. "

"HE the best man?" thought Eglantine; "the little bald unsightlytailor-creature! A man with no more soul than his smoothing-hiron!" Theperfumer, as may be imagined, did not utter this sentiment aloud, butexpressed himself quite willing to enter into any HAMICABLE arrangementby which the new candidate for Miss Crump's favour must be thrown over. It was accordingly agreed between the two gentlemen that they shouldcoalesce against the common enemy; that they should, by reciting manyperfectly well-founded stories in the Captain's disfavour, influence theminds of Miss Crump's parents, and of herself, if possible, against thiswolf in sheep's clothing; and that, when they were once fairly rid ofhim, each should be at liberty, as before, to prefer his own claim. 

"I have thought of a subject, " said the little tailor, turning very red, and hemming and hawing a great deal. "I've thought, I say, of a pint, which may be resorted to with advantage at the present juncture, and inwhich each of us may be useful to the other. An exchange, Mr. Eglantine:do you take?"

"Do you mean an accommodation-bill?" said Eglantine, whose mind ran agood deal on that species of exchange. 

"Pooh, nonsense, sir! The name of OUR firm is, I flatter myself, alittle more up in the market than some other people's names. "

"Do you mean to insult the name of Archibald Eglantine, sir? I'd haveyou to know that at three months--"

"Nonsense!" says Mr. Woolsey, mastering his emotion. "There's no usea-quarrelling, Mr. E. : we're not in love with each other, I know that. You wish me hanged, or as good, I know that!"

"Indeed I don't, sir!"

"You do, sir; I tell you, you do! and what's more, I wish the sameto you--transported, at any rate! But as two sailors, when a boat'sa-sinking, though they hate each other ever so much, will help and balethe boat out; so, sir, let US act: let us be the two sailors. "

"Bail, sir?" said Eglantine, as usual mistaking the drift of theargument. "I'll bail no man! If you're in difficulties, I think you hadbetter go to your senior partner, Mr Woolsey. " And Eglantine's cowardlylittle soul was filled with a savage satisfaction to think that hisenemy was in distress, and actually obliged to come to HIM for succour. 

"You're enough to make Job swear, you great fat stupid lazy old barber!"roared Mr. Woolsey, in a fury. 

Eglantine jumped up and made for the bell-rope. The gallant littletailor laughed. 

"There's no need to call in Betsy, " said he. "I'm not a-going to eatyou, Eglantine; you're a bigger man than me: if you were just to fall onme, you'd smother me! Just sit still on the sofa and listen to reason. "

"Well, sir, pro-ceed, " said the barber with a gasp. 

"Now, listen! What's the darling wish of your heart? I know it, sir!you've told it to Mr. Tressle, sir, and other gents at the club. Thedarling wish of your heart, sir, is to have a slap-up coat turned out ofthe ateliers of Messrs. Linsey, Woolsey and Company. You said you'd givetwenty guineas for one of our coats, you know you did! Lord Bolsterton'sa fatter man than you, and look what a figure we turn HIM out. Can anyfirm in England dress Lord Bolsterton but us, so as to make his Lordshiplook decent? I defy 'em, sir! We could have given Daniel Lambert afigure!"

"If I want a coat, sir, " said Mr. Eglantine, "and I don't deny it, there's some people want a HEAD OF HAIR!"

"That's the very point I was coming to, " said the tailor, resuming theviolent blush which was mentioned as having suffused his countenanceat the beginning of the conversation. "Let us have terms of mutualaccommodation. Make me a wig, Mr. Eglantine, and though I never yet cuta yard of cloth except for a gentleman, I'll pledge you my word I'llmake you a coat. "

"WILL you, honour bright?" says Eglantine. 

"Honour bright, " says the tailor. "Look!" and in an instant he drewfrom his pocket one of those slips of parchment which gentlemen of hisprofession carry, and putting Eglantine into the proper position, beganto take the preliminary observations. He felt Eglantine's heartthump with happiness as his measure passed over that soft part of theperfumer's person. 

Then pulling down the window-blind, and looking that the door waslocked, and blushing still more deeply than ever, the tailor seatedhimself in an arm-chair towards which Mr. Eglantine beckoned him, and, taking off his black wig, exposed his head to the great perruquier'sgaze. Mr. Eglantine looked at it, measured it, manipulated it, satfor three minutes with his head in his hand and his elbow on his knee, gazing at the tailor's cranium with all his might, walked round it twiceor thrice, and then said, "It's enough, Mr. Woolsey. Consider the jobas done. And now, sir, " said he, with a greatly relieved air--"and now, Woolsey, let us 'ave a glass of curacoa to celebrate this hauspiciousmeeting. "

The tailor, however, stiffly replied that he never drank in a morning, and left the room without offering to shake Mr. Eglantine by the hand:for he despised that gentleman very heartily, and himself, too, forcoming to any compromise with him, and for so far demeaning himself asto make a coat for a barber. 

Looking from his chambers on the other side of the street, thatinevitable Mr. Walker saw the tailor issuing from the perfumer's shop, and was at no loss to guess that something extraordinary must be inprogress when two such bitter enemies met together. 

CHAPTER III. WHAT CAME OF MR WALKER'S DISCOVERY OF THE "BOOTJACK. "

It is very easy to state how the Captain came to take up that proudposition at the "Bootjack" which we have seen him occupy on the eveningwhen the sound of the fatal "Brava!" so astonished Mr. Eglantine. 

The mere entry into the establishment was, of course, not difficult. Anyperson by simply uttering the words "A pint of beer, " was free of the"Bootjack;" and it was some such watchword that Howard Walker employedwhen he made his first appearance. He requested to be shown into aparlour, where he might repose himself for a while, and was ushered intothat very sanctum where the "Kidney Club" met. Then he stated that thebeer was the best he had ever tasted, except in Bavaria, and in someparts of Spain, he added; and professing to be extremely "peckish, "requested to know if there were any cold meat in the house whereof hecould make a dinner. 

"I don't usually dine at this hour, landlord, " said he, flinging downa half-sovereign for payment of the beer; "but your parlour looks socomfortable, and the Windsor chairs are so snug, that I'm sure I couldnot dine better at the first club in London. "

"ONE of the first clubs in London is held in this very room, " said Mr. Crump, very well pleased; "and attended by some of the best gents intown, too. We call it the 'Kidney Club'. "

"Why, bless my soul! it is the very club my friend Eglantine has sooften talked to me about, and attended by some of the tip-top tradesmenof the metropolis!"

"There's better men here than Mr. Eglantine, " replied Mr. Crump, "thoughhe's a good man--I don't say he's not a good man--but there's better. Mr. Clinker, sir; Mr. Woolsey, of the house of Linsey, Woolsey and Co--"

"The great army-clothiers!" cried Walker; "the first house in town!"and so continued, with exceeding urbanity, holding conversation with Mr. Crump, until the honest landlord retired delighted, and told Mrs. Crumpin the bar that there was a tip-top swell in the "Kidney" parlour, whowas a-going to have his dinner there. 

Fortune favoured the brave Captain in every way. It was just Mr. Crump'sown dinner-hour; and on Mrs. Crump stepping into the parlour to ask theguest whether he would like a slice of the joint to which the familywere about to sit down, fancy that lady's start of astonishment atrecognising Mr. Eglantine's facetious friend of the day before. TheCaptain at once demanded permission to partake of the joint at thefamily table; the lady could not with any great reason deny thisrequest; the Captain was inducted into the bar; and Miss Crump, whoalways came down late for dinner, was even more astonished than hermamma, on beholding the occupier of the fourth place at the table. Hadshe expected to see the fascinating stranger so soon again? I think shehad. Her big eyes said as much, as, furtively looking up at Mr. Walker'sface, they caught his looks; and then bouncing down again towards herplate, pretended to be very busy in looking at the boiled beef andcarrots there displayed. She blushed far redder than those carrots, buther shining ringlets hid her confusion together with her lovely face. 

Sweet Morgiana! the billiard-ball eyes had a tremendous effect on theCaptain. They fell plump, as it were, into the pocket of his heart; andhe gallantly proposed to treat the company to a bottle of champagne, which was accepted without much difficulty. 

Mr. Crump, under pretence of going to the cellar (where he said he hadsome cases of the finest champagne in Europe), called Dick, the boy, to him, and despatched him with all speed to a wine merchant's, where acouple of bottles of the liquor were procured. 

"Bring up two bottles, Mr. C. , " Captain Walker gallantly said when Crumpmade his move, as it were, to the cellar and it may be imagined afterthe two bottles were drunk (of which Mrs. Crump took at least nineglasses to her share), how happy, merry, and confidential the wholeparty had become. Crump told his story of the "Bootjack, " and whose bootit had drawn; the former Miss Delancy expatiated on her past theatricallife, and the pictures hanging round the room. Miss was equallycommunicative; and, in short, the Captain had all the secrets of thelittle family in his possession ere sunset. He knew that Miss caredlittle for either of her suitors, about whom mamma and papa had a littlequarrel. He heard Mrs. Crump talk of Morgiana's property, and fell morein love with her than ever. Then came tea, the luscious crumpet, thequiet game at cribbage, and the song--the song which poor Eglantineheard, and which caused Woolsey's rage and his despair. 

At the close of the evening the tailor was in a greater rage, and theperfumer in greater despair than ever. He had made his little presentof eau-de-Cologne. "Oh fie!" says the Captain, with a horse-laugh, "itSMELLS OF THE SHOP!" He taunted the tailor about his wig, and the honestfellow had only an oath to give by way of repartee. He told his storiesabout his club and his lordly friends. What chance had either againstthe all-accomplished Howard Walker?

Old Crump, with a good innate sense of right and wrong, hated the man;Mrs. Crump did not feel quite at her ease regarding him; but Morgianathought him the most delightful person the world ever produced. 

Eglantine's usual morning costume was a blue satin neck-clothembroidered with butterflies and ornamented with a brandy-ball brooch, alight shawl waistcoat, and a rhubarb-coloured coat of the sort which, Ibelieve, are called Taglionis, and which have no waist-buttons, and madea pretence, as it were, to have no waists, but are in reality adopted bythe fat in order to give them a waist. Nothing easier for an obese manthan to have a waist; he has but to pinch his middle part a little, andthe very fat on either side pushed violently forward MAKES a waist, as it were, and our worthy perfumer's figure was that of a bolster cutalmost in two with a string. 

Walker presently saw him at his shop-door grinning in this costume, twiddling his ringlets with his dumpy greasy fingers, glittering withoil and rings, and looking so exceedingly contented and happy that theestate-agent felt assured some very satisfactory conspiracy had beenplanned between the tailor and him. How was Mr. Walker to learn what thescheme was? Alas! the poor fellow's vanity and delight were such, thathe could not keep silent as to the cause of his satisfaction; and ratherthan not mention it at all, in the fulness of his heart he would havetold his secret to Mr. Mossrose himself. 

"When I get my coat, " thought the Bond Street Alnaschar, "I'll hireof Snaffle that easy-going cream-coloured 'oss that he bought fromAstley's, and I'll canter through the Park, and WON'T I pass throughLittle Bunker's Buildings, that's all? I'll wear my grey trousers withthe velvet stripe down the side, and get my spurs lacquered up, and aFrench polish to my boot; and if I don't DO for the Captain, and thetailor too, my name's not Archibald. And I know what I'll do: I'll hirethe small clarence, and invite the Crumps to dinner at the 'Gar andStarter'" (this was his facetious way of calling the "Star and Garter"), "and I'll ride by them all the way to Richmond. It's rather a long ride, but with Snaffle's soft saddle I can do it pretty easy, I dare say. " Andso the honest fellow built castles upon castles in the air; and the lastmost beautiful vision of all was Miss Crump "in white satting, with ahorange flower in her 'air, " putting him in possession of "her lovely'and before the haltar of St. George's, 'Anover Square. " As for Woolsey, Eglantine determined that he should have the best wig his art couldproduce; for he had not the least fear of his rival. 

These points then being arranged to the poor fellow's satisfaction, whatdoes he do but send out for half a quire of pink note-paper, and in afilagree envelope despatch a note of invitation to the ladies at the"Bootjack":--

"BOWER OF BLOOM, BOND STREET:

"Thursday. 

"MR. ARCHIBALD EGLANTINE presents his compliments to Mrs. And MissCrump, and requests the HONOUR AND PLEASURE of their company at the'Star and Garter' at Richmond to an early dinner on Sunday next. 

"IF AGREEABLE, Mr. Eglantine's carriage will be at your door at threeo'clock, and I propose to accompany them on horseback, if agreeablelikewise. "

This note was sealed with yellow wax, and sent to its destination; andof course Mr. Eglantine went himself for the answer in the evening: andof course he told the ladies to look out for a certain new coat he wasgoing to sport on Sunday; and of course Mr. Walker happens to call thenext day with spare tickets for Mrs. Crump and her daughter, when thewhole secret was laid bare to him--how the ladies were going to Richmondon Sunday in Mr. Snaffle's clarence, and how Mr. Eglantine was to rideby their side. 

Mr. Walker did not keep horses of his own; his magnificent friends atthe "Regent" had plenty in their stables, and some of these were atlivery at the establishment of the Captain's old "college" companion, Mr. Snaffle. It was easy, therefore, for the Captain to renew hisacquaintance with that individual. So, hanging on the arm of my LordVauxhall, Captain Walker next day made his appearance at Snaffle'slivery-stables, and looked at the various horses there for sale orat bait, and soon managed, by putting some facetious questions to Mr. Snaffle regarding the "Kidney Club, " etc. To place himself on a friendlyfooting with that gentleman, and to learn from him what horse Mr. Eglantine was to ride on Sunday. 

The monster Walker had fully determined in his mind that Eglantineshould FALL off that horse in the course of his Sunday's ride. 

"That sing'lar hanimal, " said Mr. Snaffle, pointing to the old horse, "is the celebrated Hemperor that was the wonder of Hastley's some yearsback, and was parted with by Mr. Ducrow honly because his feelin'swouldn't allow him to keep him no longer after the death of the firstMrs. D. , who invariably rode him. I bought him, thinking that p'rapsladies and Cockney bucks might like to ride him (for his haction iswonderful, and he canters like a harm-chair); but he's not safe on anyday except Sundays. "

"And why's that?" asked Captain Walker. "Why is he safer on Sundays thanother days?"

"BECAUSE THERE'S NO MUSIC in the streets on Sundays. The first gent thatrode him found himself dancing a quadrille in Hupper Brook Street toan 'urdy-gurdy that was playing 'Cherry Ripe, ' such is the natur of thehanimal. And if you reklect the play of the 'Battle of Hoysterlitz, ' inwhich Mrs. D. Hacted 'the female hussar, ' you may remember how sheand the horse died in the third act to the toon of 'God preserve theEmperor, ' from which this horse took his name. Only play that toon tohim, and he rears hisself up, beats the hair in time with his forelegs, and then sinks gently to the ground as though he were carried off by acannon-ball. He served a lady hopposite Hapsley 'Ouse so one day, andsince then I've never let him out to a friend except on Sunday, when, incourse, there's no danger. Heglantine IS a friend of mine, and of courseI wouldn't put the poor fellow on a hanimal I couldn't trust. "

After a little more conversation, my lord and his friend quitted Mr. Snaffle's, and as they walked away towards the "Regent, " his Lordshipmight be heard shrieking with laughter, crying, "Capital, by jingo!exthlent! Dwive down in the dwag! Take Lungly. Worth a thousand pound, by Jove!" and similar ejaculations, indicative of exceeding delight. 

On Saturday morning, at ten o'clock to a moment, Mr. Woolsey called atMr. Eglantine's with a yellow handkerchief under his arm. It containedthe best and handsomest body-coat that ever gentleman put on. It fittedEglantine to a nicety--it did not pinch him in the least, and yet it wasof so exquisite a cut that the perfumer found, as he gazed delightedin the glass, that he looked like a manly portly high-bred gentleman--alieutenant-colonel in the army, at the very least. 

"You're a full man, Eglantine, " said the tailor, delighted, too, withhis own work; "but that can't be helped. You look more like Herculesthan Falstaff now, sir, and if a coat can make a gentleman, a gentlemanyou are. Let me recommend you to sink the blue cravat, and take thestripes off your trousers. Dress quiet, sir; draw it mild. Plainwaistcoat, dark trousers, black neckcloth, black hat, and if there's abetter-dressed man in Europe to-morrow, I'm a Dutchman. "

"Thank you, Woolsey--thank you, my dear sir, " said the charmed perfumer. "And now I'll just trouble you to try on this here. "

The wig had been made with equal skill; it was not in the florid stylewhich Mr. Eglantine loved in his own person, but, as the perfumer said, a simple straightforward head of hair. "It seems as if it had grownthere all your life, Mr. Woolsey; nobody would tell that it was notyour nat'ral colour" (Mr. Woolsey blushed)--"it makes you look ten yearyounger; and as for that scarecrow yonder, you'll never, I think, wantto wear that again. "

Woolsey looked in the glass, and was delighted too. The two rivals shookhands and straightway became friends, and in the overflowing of hisheart the perfumer mentioned to the tailor the party which he hadarranged for the next day, and offered him a seat in the carriage andat the dinner at the "Star and Garter. " "Would you like to ride?" saidEglantine, with rather a consequential air. "Snaffle will mount you, andwe can go one on each side of the ladies, if you like. "

But Woolsey humbly said he was not a riding man, and gladly consented totake a place in the clarence carriage, provided he was allowed to bearhalf the expenses of the entertainment. This proposal was agreed to byMr. Eglantine, and the two gentlemen parted to meet once more at the"Kidneys" that night, when everybody was edified by the friendly toneadopted between them. 

Mr. Snaffle, at the club meeting, made the very same proposal to Mr. Woolsey that the perfumer had made; and stated that as Eglantine wasgoing to ride Hemperor, Woolsey, at least, ought to mount too. But hewas met by the same modest refusal on the tailor's part, who stated thathe had never mounted a horse yet, and preferred greatly the use of acoach. 

Eglantine's character as a "swell" rose greatly with the club thatevening. 

Two o'clock on Sunday came: the two beaux arrived punctually at the doorto receive the two smiling ladies. 

"Bless us, Mr. Eglantine!" said Miss Crump, quite struck by him, "Inever saw you look so handsome in your life. " He could have flung hisarms around her neck at the compliment. "And law, Ma! what has happenedto Mr. Woolsey? doesn't he look ten years younger than yesterday?" Mammaassented, and Woolsey bowed gallantly, and the two gentlemen exchanged anod of hearty friendship. 

The day was delightful. Eglantine pranced along magnificently on hiscantering armchair, with his hat on one ear, his left hand on his side, and his head flung over his shoulder, and throwing under-glances atMorgiana whenever the "Emperor" was in advance of the clarence. The"Emperor" pricked up his ears a little uneasily passing the Ebenezerchapel in Richmond, where the congregation were singing a hymn, butbeyond this no accident occurred; nor was Mr. Eglantine in the leaststiff or fatigued by the time the party reached Richmond, where hearrived time enough to give his steed into the charge of an ostler, andto present his elbow to the ladies as they alighted from the clarencecarriage. 

What this jovial party ate for dinner at the "Star and Garter" neednot here be set down. If they did not drink champagne I am very muchmistaken. They were as merry as any four people in Christendom; andbetween the bewildering attentions of the perfumer, and the manlycourtesy of the tailor, Morgiana very likely forgot the gallant Captain, or, at least, was very happy in his absence. 

At eight o'clock they began to drive homewards. "WON'T you come into thecarriage?" said Morgiana to Eglantine, with one of her tenderest looks;"Dick can ride the horse. " But Archibald was too great a lover ofequestrian exercise. "I'm afraid to trust anybody on this horse, " saidhe with a knowing look; and so he pranced away by the side of the littlecarriage. The moon was brilliant, and, with the aid of the gas-lamps, illuminated the whole face of the country in a way inexpressibly lovely. 

Presently, in the distance, the sweet and plaintive notes of a buglewere heard, and the performer, with great delicacy, executed a religiousair. "Music, too! heavenly!" said Morgiana, throwing up her eyes to thestars. The music came nearer and nearer, and the delight of the companywas only more intense. The fly was going at about four miles an hour, and the "Emperor" began cantering to time at the same rapid pace. 

"This must be some gallantry of yours, Mr. Woolsey, " said the romanticMorgiana, turning upon that gentleman. "Mr. Eglantine treated us to thedinner, and you have provided us with the music. "

Now Woolsey had been a little, a very little, dissatisfied during thecourse of the evening's entertainment, by fancying that Eglantine, amuch more voluble person than himself, had obtained rather an undueshare of the ladies' favour; and as he himself paid half of theexpenses, he felt very much vexed to think that the perfumer should takeall the credit of the business to himself. So when Miss Crump asked ifhe had provided the music, he foolishly made an evasive reply to herquery, and rather wished her to imagine that he HAD performed thatpiece of gallantry. "If it pleases YOU, Miss Morgiana, " said this artfulSchneider, "what more need any man ask? wouldn't I have all Drury Laneorchestra to please you?"

The bugle had by this time arrived quite close to the clarence carriage, and if Morgiana had looked round she might have seen whence the musiccame. Behind her came slowly a drag, or private stage-coach, withfour horses. Two grooms with cockades and folded arms were behind;and driving on the box, a little gentleman, with a blue bird's-eyeneckcloth, and a white coat. A bugleman was by his side, who performedthe melodies which so delighted Miss Crump. He played very gently andsweetly, and "God save the King" trembled so softly out of the brazenorifice of his bugle, that the Crumps, the tailor, and Eglantinehimself, who was riding close by the carriage, were quite charmed andsubdued. 

"Thank you, DEAR Mr. Woolsey, " said the grateful Morgiana; which madeEglantine stare, and Woolsey was just saying, "Really, upon my word, I've nothing to do with it, " when the man on the drag-box said to thebugleman, "Now!"

The bugleman began the tune of--

 "Heaven preserve our Emperor Fra-an-cis, Rum tum-ti-tum-ti-titty-ti. "

At the sound, the "Emperor" reared himself (with a roar from Mr. Eglantine)--reared and beat the air with his fore-paws. Eglantine flunghis arms round the beast's neck; still he kept beating time withhis fore-paws. Mrs. Crump screamed: Mr. Woolsey, Dick, the clarencecoachman, Lord Vauxhall (for it was he), and his Lordship's two grooms, burst into a shout of laughter; Morgiana cries "Mercy! mercy!" Eglantineyells "Stop!"--"Wo!"--"Oh!" and a thousand ejaculations of hideousterror; until, at last, down drops the "Emperor" stone dead in themiddle of the road, as if carried off by a cannon-ball. 

Fancy the situation, ye callous souls who laugh at the misery ofhumanity, fancy the situation of poor Eglantine under the "Emperor"! Hehad fallen very easy, the animal lay perfectly quiet, and the perfumerwas to all intents and purposes as dead as the animal. He had notfainted, but he was immovable with terror; he lay in a puddle, andthought it was his own blood gushing from him; and he would have lainthere until Monday morning, if my Lord's grooms, descending, had notdragged him by the coat-collar from under the beast, who still layquiet. 

"Play 'Charming Judy Callaghan, ' will ye?" says Mr. Snaffle's man, the fly-driver; on which the bugler performed that lively air, and upstarted the horse, and the grooms, who were rubbing Mr. Eglantine downagainst a lamp-post, invited him to remount. 

But his heart was too broken for that. The ladies gladly made room forhim in the clarence. Dick mounted "Emperor" and rode homewards. Thedrag, too, drove away, playing "Oh dear, what can the matter be?" andwith a scowl of furious hate, Mr. Eglantine sat and regarded his rival. His pantaloons were split, and his coat torn up the back. 

"Are you hurt much, dear Mr. Archibald?" said Morgiana, with unaffectedcompassion. 

"N-not much, " said the poor fellow, ready to burst into tears. 

"Oh, Mr. Woolsey, " added the good-natured girl, "how could you play sucha trick?"

"Upon my word, " Woolsey began, intending to plead innocence; but theludicrousness of the situation was once more too much for him, and heburst out into a roar of laughter. 

"You! you cowardly beast!" howled out Eglantine, now driven tofury--"YOU laugh at me, you miserable cretur! Take THAT, sir!" and hefell upon him with all his might, and well-nigh throttled the tailor, and pummelling his eyes, his nose, his ears, with inconceivablerapidity, wrenched, finally, his wig off his head, and flung it into theroad. 

Morgiana saw that Woolsey had red hair. [2]

CHAPTER IV. IN WHICH THE HEROINE HAS A NUMBER MORE LOVERS, AND CUTS AVERY DASHING FIGURE IN THE WORLD. 

Two years have elapsed since the festival at Richmond, which, begun sopeaceably, ended in such general uproar. Morgiana never could be broughtto pardon Woolsey's red hair, nor to help laughing at Eglantine'sdisasters, nor could the two gentlemen be reconciled to one another. Woolsey, indeed, sent a challenge to the perfumer to meet him withpistols, which the latter declined, saying, justly, that tradesmen hadno business with such weapons; on this the tailor proposed to meethim with coats off, and have it out like men, in the presence of theirfriends of the "Kidney Club". The perfumer said he would be party to nosuch vulgar transaction; on which, Woolsey, exasperated, made an oaththat he would tweak the perfumer's nose so surely as he ever entered theclub-room; and thus ONE member of the "Kidneys" was compelled to vacatehis armchair. 

Woolsey himself attended every meeting regularly, but he did not evincethat gaiety and good-humour which render men's company agreeable inclubs. On arriving, he would order the boy to "tell him when thatscoundrel Eglantine came;" and, hanging up his hat on a peg, would scowlround the room, and tuck up his sleeves very high, and stretch, andshake his fingers and wrists, as if getting them ready for that pullof the nose which he intended to bestow upon his rival. So prepared, hewould sit down and smoke his pipe quite silently, glaring at all, andjumping up, and hitching up his coat-sleeves, when anyone entered theroom. 

The "Kidneys" did not like this behaviour. Clinker ceased to come. Bustard, the poulterer, ceased to come. As for Snaffle, he alsodisappeared, for Woolsey wished to make him answerable for themisbehaviour of Eglantine, and proposed to him the duel which the latterhad declined. So Snaffle went. Presently they all went, except thetailor and Tressle, who lived down the street, and these two wouldsit and pug their tobacco, one on each side of Crump, the landlord, assilent as Indian chiefs in a wigwam. There grew to be more and more roomfor poor old Crump in his chair and in his clothes; the "Kidneys" weregone, and why should he remain? One Saturday he did not come down topreside at the club (as he still fondly called it), and the Saturdayfollowing Tressle had made a coffin for him; and Woolsey, with theundertaker by his side, followed to the grave the father of the"Kidneys. "

Mrs. Crump was now alone in the world. "How alone?" says some innocentand respected reader. Ah! my dear sir, do you know so little of humannature as not to be aware that, one week after the Richmond affair, Morgiana married Captain Walker? That did she privately, of course; and, after the ceremony, came tripping back to her parents, as young peopledo in plays, and said, "Forgive me, dear Pa and Ma, I'm married, andhere is my husband the Captain!" Papa and mamma did forgive her, as whyshouldn't they? and papa paid over her fortune to her, which she carriedhome delighted to the Captain. This happened several months before thedemise of old Crump; and Mrs. Captain Walker was on the Continent withher Howard when that melancholy event took place; hence Mrs. Crump'sloneliness and unprotected condition. Morgiana had not latterly seenmuch of the old people; how could she, moving in her exalted sphere, receive at her genteel new residence in the Edgware Road the oldpublican and his wife?

Being, then, alone in the world, Mrs. Crump could not abear, she said, to live in the house where she had been so respected and happy: so shesold the goodwill of the "Bootjack, " and, with the money arising fromthis sale and her own private fortune, being able to muster some sixtypounds per annum, retired to the neighbourhood of her dear old "Sadler'sWells, " where she boarded with one of Mrs. Serle's forty pupils. Herheart was broken, she said; but, nevertheless, about nine months afterMr. Crump's death, the wallflowers, nasturtiums, polyanthuses, andconvolvuluses began to blossom under her bonnet as usual; in a year shewas dressed quite as fine as ever, and now never missed "The Wells, " orsome other place of entertainment, one single night, but was as regularas the box-keeper. Nay, she was a buxom widow still, and an old flame ofhers, Fisk, so celebrated as pantaloon in Grimaldi's time, but now doingthe "heavy fathers" at "The Wells, " proposed to her to exchange her namefor his. 

But this proposal the worthy widow declined altogether. To say truth, she was exceedingly proud of her daughter, Mrs. Captain Walker. Theydid not see each other much at first; but every now and then Mrs. Crumpwould pay a visit to the folks in Connaught Square; and on the days when"the Captain's" lady called in the City Road, there was not a singleofficial at "The Wells, " from the first tragedian down to the call-boy, who was not made aware of the fact. 

It has been said that Morgiana carried home her fortune in her ownreticule, and, smiling, placed the money in her husband's lap; and hencethe reader may imagine, who knows Mr. Walker to be an extremely selfishfellow, that a great scene of anger must have taken place, and manycoarse oaths and epithets of abuse must have come from him, when hefound that five hundred pounds was all that his wife had, although hehad expected five thousand with her. But, to say the truth, Walker wasat this time almost in love with his handsome rosy good-humoured simplewife. They had made a fortnight's tour, during which they had beenexceedingly happy; and there was something so frank and touching in theway in which the kind creature flung her all into his lap, salutinghim with a hearty embrace at the same time, and wishing that it were athousand billion billion times more, so that her darling Howard mightenjoy it, that the man would have been a ruffian indeed could he havefound it in his heart to be angry with her; and so he kissed her inreturn, and patted her on the shining ringlets, and then counted overthe notes with rather a disconsolate air, and ended by locking them upin his portfolio. In fact, SHE had never deceived him; Eglantinehad, and he in return had out-tricked Eglantine and so warm were hisaffections for Morgiana at this time that, upon my word and honour, Idon't think he repented of his bargain. Besides, five hundred pounds incrisp bank-notes was a sum of money such as the Captain was not in thehabit of handling every day; a dashing sanguine fellow, he fancied therewas no end to it, and already thought of a dozen ways by which it shouldincrease and multiply into a plum. Woe is me! Has not many a simple soulexamined five new hundred-pound notes in this way, and calculated theirpowers of duration and multiplication?

This subject, however, is too painful to be dwelt on. Let us hear whatWalker did with his money. Why, he furnished the house in the EdgwareRoad before mentioned, he ordered a handsome service of plate, hesported a phaeton and two ponies, he kept a couple of smart maids anda groom foot-boy--in fact, he mounted just such a neat unpretendinggentleman-like establishment as becomes a respectable young couple ontheir outset in life. "I've sown my wild oats, " he would say to hisacquaintances; "a few years since, perhaps, I would have longed to cuta dash, but now prudence is the word; and I've settled every farthing ofMrs. Walker's fifteen thousand on herself. " And the best proof that theworld had confidence in him is the fact, that for the articles of plate, equipage, and furniture, which have been mentioned as being in hispossession, he did not pay one single shilling; and so prudent was he, that but for turnpikes, postage-stamps, and king's taxes, he hardly hadoccasion to change a five-pound note of his wife's fortune. 

To tell the truth, Mr. Walker had determined to make his fortune. Andwhat is easier in London? Is not the share-market open to all? Donot Spanish and Columbian bonds rise and fall? For what are companiesinvented, but to place thousands in the pockets of shareholders anddirectors? Into these commercial pursuits the gallant Captain nowplunged with great energy, and made some brilliant hits at firststarting, and bought and sold so opportunely, that his name began torise in the City as a capitalist, and might be seen in the printed listof directors of many excellent and philanthropic schemes, of which thereis never any lack in London. Business to the amount of thousands wasdone at his agency; shares of vast value were bought and sold under hismanagement. How poor Mr. Eglantine used to hate him and envy him, asfrom the door of his emporium (the firm was Eglantine and Mossrose now)he saw the Captain daily arrive in his pony-phaeton, and heard of thestart he had taken in life. 

The only regret Mrs. Walker had was that she did not enjoy enough of herhusband's society. His business called him away all day; his business, too, obliged him to leave her of evenings very frequently alone; whilsthe (always in pursuit of business) was dining with his great friends atthe club, and drinking claret and champagne to the same end. 

She was a perfectly good-natured and simple soul, never made him asingle reproach; but when he could pass an evening at home with hershe was delighted, and when he could drive with her in the Park she washappy for a week after. On these occasions, and in the fulness of herheart, she would drive to her mother and tell her story. "Howard drovewith me in the Park yesterday, Mamma;" and "Howard has promised totake me to the Opera, " and so forth. And that evening the manager, Mr. Gawler, the first tragedian, Mrs. Serle and her forty pupils, all thebox-keepers, bonnet-women--nay, the ginger-beer girls themselves at "TheWells, " knew that Captain and Mrs. Walker were at Kensington Gardens, or were to have the Marchioness of Billingsgate's box at the Opera. Onenight--O joy of joys!--Mrs. Captain Walker appeared in a private boxat "The Wells. " That's she with the black ringlets and Cashmere shawl, smelling-bottle, and black-velvet gown, and bird of paradise in her hat. Goodness gracious! how they all acted at her, Gawler and all, and howhappy Mrs. Crump was! She kissed her daughter between all the acts, shenodded to all her friends on the stage, in the slips, or in thereal water; she introduced her daughter, Mrs. Captain Walker, to thebox-opener; and Melvil Delamere (the first comic), Canterfield (thetyrant), and Jonesini (the celebrated Fontarabian Statuesque), were allon the steps, and shouted for Mrs. Captain Walker's carriage, and wavedtheir hats, and bowed as the little pony-phaeton drove away. Walker, inhis moustaches, had come in at the end of the play, and was not a littlegratified by the compliments paid to himself and lady. 

Among the other articles of luxury with which the Captain furnishedhis house we must not omit to mention an extremely grand piano, whichoccupied four-fifths of Mrs. Walker's little back drawing-room, and atwhich she was in the habit of practising continually. All day and allnight during Walker's absences (and these occurred all night and allday), you might hear--the whole street might hear--the voice of the ladyat No. 23, gurgling, and shaking, and quavering, as ladies do when theypractise. The street did not approve of the continuance of the noise;but neighbours are difficult to please, and what would Morgiana have hadto do if she had ceased to sing? It would be hard to lock a blackbird ina cage and prevent him from singing too. And so Walker's blackbird, inthe snug little cage in the Edgware Road, sang and was not unhappy. 

After the pair had been married for about a year, the omnibus thatpasses both by Mrs. Crump's house near "The Wells, " and by Mrs. Walker'sstreet off the Edgware Road, brought up the former-named lady almostevery day to her daughter. She came when the Captain had gone to hisbusiness; she stayed to a two-o'clock dinner with Morgiana; she drovewith her in the pony-carriage round the Park; but she never stoppedlater than six. Had she not to go to the play at seven? And, besides, the Captain might come home with some of his great friends, and healways swore and grumbled much if he found his mother-in-law on thepremises. As for Morgiana, she was one of those women who encouragedespotism in husbands. What the husband says must be right, because hesays it; what he orders must be obeyed tremblingly. Mrs. Walker gave upher entire reason to her lord. Why was it? Before marriage she had beenan independent little person; she had far more brains than her Howard. I think it must have been his moustaches that frightened her, and causedin her this humility. 

Selfish husbands have this advantage in maintaining with easy-mindedwives a rigid and inflexible behaviour, viz. That if they DO by anychance grant a little favour, the ladies receive it with such transportsof gratitude as they would never think of showing to a lord and masterwho was accustomed to give them everything they asked for; and hence, when Captain Walker signified his assent to his wife's prayer that sheshould take a singing-master, she thought his generosity almost divine, and fell upon her mamma's neck, when that lady came the next day, andsaid what a dear adorable angel her Howard was, and what ought she notto do for a man who had taken her from her humble situation, and raisedher to be what she was! What she was, poor soul! She was the wife of aswindling parvenu gentleman. She received visits from six ladies of herhusband's acquaintances--two attorneys' ladies, his bill-broker's lady, and one or two more, of whose characters we had best, if you please, say nothing; and she thought it an honour to be so distinguished: asif Walker had been a Lord Exeter to marry a humble maiden, or a nobleprince to fall in love with a humble Cinderella, or a majestic Joveto come down from heaven and woo a Semele. Look through the world, respectable reader, and among your honourable acquaintances, and say ifthis sort of faith in women is not very frequent? They WILL believe intheir husbands, whatever the latter do. Let John be dull, ugly, vulgar, and a humbug, his Mary Ann never finds it out; let him tell his storiesever so many times, there is she always ready with her kind smile; lethim be stingy, she says he is prudent; let him quarrel with his bestfriend, she says he is always in the right; let him be prodigal, shesays he is generous, and that his health requires enjoyment; let himbe idle, he must have relaxation; and she will pinch herself andher household that he may have a guinea for his club. Yes; and everymorning, as she wakes and looks at the face, snoring on the pillow byher side--every morning, I say, she blesses that dull ugly countenance, and the dull ugly soul reposing there, and thinks both are somethingdivine. I want to know how it is that women do not find out theirhusbands to be humbugs? Nature has so provided it, and thanks to her. When last year they were acting the "Midsummer Night's Dream, " and allthe boxes began to roar with great coarse heehaws at Titania huggingBottom's long long ears--to me, considering these things, it seemed thatthere were a hundred other male brutes squatted round about, and treatedjust as reasonably as Bottom was. Their Titanias lulled them to sleepin their laps, summoned a hundred smiling delicate household fairies totickle their gross intellects and minister to their vulgar pleasures;and (as the above remarks are only supposed to apply to honest womenloving their own lawful spouses) a mercy it is that no wicked Puck isin the way to open their eyes, and point out their folly. Cui bono? letthem live on in their deceit: I know two lovely ladies who will readthis, and will say it is just very likely, and not see in the least, that it has been written regarding THEM. 

Another point of sentiment, and one curious to speculate on. Haveyou not remarked the immense works of art that women get through? Theworsted-work sofas, the counterpanes patched or knitted (but these areamong the old-fashioned in the country), the bushels of pincushions, the albums they laboriously fill, the tremendous pieces of music theypractise, the thousand other fiddle-faddles which occupy the attentionof the dear souls--nay, have we not seen them seated of evenings in asquad or company, Louisa employed at the worsted-work before mentioned, Eliza at the pincushions, Amelia at card-racks or filagree matches, and, in the midst, Theodosia with one of the candles, reading out a novelaloud? Ah! my dear sir, mortal creatures must be very hard put to it foramusement, be sure of that, when they are forced to gather together ina company and hear novels read aloud! They only do it because they can'thelp it, depend upon it: it is a sad life, a poor pastime. Mr. Dickens, in his American book, tells of the prisoners at the silent prison, how they had ornamented their rooms, some of them with a frightfulprettiness and elaboration. Women's fancy-work is of thissort often--only prison work, done because there was no otherexercising-ground for their poor little thoughts and fingers; and hencethese wonderful pincushions are executed, these counterpanes woven, these sonatas learned. By everything sentimental, when I see two kindinnocent fresh-cheeked young women go to a piano, and sit down oppositeto it upon two chairs piled with more or less music-books (according totheir convenience), and, so seated, go through a set of double-barrelledvariations upon this or that tune by Herz or Kalkbrenner--I say, farfrom receiving any satisfaction at the noise made by the performance, my too susceptible heart is given up entirely to bleeding for theperformers. What hours, and weeks, nay, preparatory years of study, hasthat infernal jig cost them! What sums has papa paid, what scoldings hasmamma administered ("Lady Bullblock does not play herself;" Sir Thomassays, "but she has naturally the finest ear for music ever known!");what evidences of slavery, in a word, are there! It is the conditionof the young lady's existence. She breakfasts at eight, she does"Mangnall's Questions" with the governess till ten, she practises tillone, she walks in the square with bars round her till two, then shepractises again, then she sews or hems, or reads French, or Hume's"History, " then she comes down to play to papa, because he likes musicwhilst he is asleep after dinner, and then it is bed-time, and themorrow is another day with what are called the same "duties" to be gonethrough. A friend of mine went to call at a nobleman's house the otherday, and one of the young ladies of the house came into the room with atray on her head; this tray was to give Lady Maria a graceful carriage. Mon Dieu! and who knows but at that moment Lady Bell was at work witha pair of her dumb namesakes, and Lady Sophy lying flat on astretching-board? I could write whole articles on this theme but peace!we are keeping Mrs. Walker waiting all the while. 

Well, then, if the above disquisitions have anything to do with thestory, as no doubt they have, I wish it to be understood that, duringher husband's absence, and her own solitary confinement, Mrs. HowardWalker bestowed a prodigious quantity of her time and energy on thecultivation of her musical talent; and having, as before stated, a veryfine loud voice, speedily attained no ordinary skill in the use of it. She first had for teacher little Podmore, the fat chorus-master at "TheWells, " and who had taught her mother the "Tink-a-tink" song which hasbeen such a favourite since it first appeared. He grounded her well, andbade her eschew the singing of all those "Eagle Tavern" ballads in whichher heart formerly delighted; and when he had brought her to a certainpoint of skill, the honest little chorus-master said she should have astill better instructor, and wrote a note to Captain Walker (enclosinghis own little account), speaking in terms of the most flatteringencomium of his lady's progress, and recommending that she should takelessons of the celebrated Baroski. Captain Walker dismissed Podmorethen, and engaged Signor Baroski, at a vast expense; as he did not failto tell his wife. In fact, he owed Baroski no less than two hundred andtwenty guineas when he was--But we are advancing matters. 

Little Baroski is the author of the opera of "Eliogabalo, " of theoratorio of "Purgatorio, " which made such an immense sensation, of songsand ballet-musics innumerable. He is a German by birth, and shows suchan outrageous partiality for pork and sausages, and attends at church soconstantly, that I am sure there cannot be any foundation in the storythat he is a member of the ancient religion. He is a fat little man, with a hooked nose and jetty whiskers, and coal-black shining eyes, andplenty of rings and jewels on his fingers and about his person, and avery considerable portion of his shirtsleeves turned over his coat totake the air. His great hands (which can sprawl over half a piano, andproduce those effects on the instrument for which he is celebrated) areencased in lemon-coloured kids, new, or cleaned daily. Parenthetically, let us ask why so many men, with coarse red wrists and big hands, persist in the white kid glove and wristband system? Baroski's glovesalone must cost him a little fortune; only he says with a leer, whenasked the question, "Get along vid you; don't you know dere is agloveress that lets me have dem very sheap?" He rides in the Park; hassplendid lodgings in Dover Street; and is a member of the "Regent Club, "where he is a great source of amusement to the members, to whom he tellsastonishing stories of his successes with the ladies, and for whom hehas always play and opera tickets in store. His eye glistens and hislittle heart beats when a lord speaks to him; and he has been known tospend large sums of money in giving treats to young sprigs of fashion atRichmond and elsewhere. "In my bolyticks, " he says, "I am consarevatiffto de bag-bone. " In fine, he is a puppy, and withal a man ofconsiderable genius in his profession. 

This gentleman, then, undertook to complete the musical educationof Mrs. Walker. He expressed himself at once "enshanted vid hergababilities, " found that the extent of her voice was "brodigious, " andguaranteed that she should become a first-rate singer. The pupil wasapt, the master was exceedingly skilful; and, accordingly, Mrs. Walker'sprogress was very remarkable: although, for her part, honest Mrs. Crump, who used to attend her daughter's lessons, would grumble not a little atthe new system, and the endless exercises which she, Morgiana, was madeto go through. It was very different in HER time, she said. Incledonknew no music, and who could sing so well now? Give her a good Englishballad: it was a thousand times sweeter than your "Figaros" and"Semiramides. "

In spite of these objections, however, and with amazing perseverance andcheerfulness, Mrs. Walker pursued the method of study pointed out to herby her master. As soon as her husband went to the City in the morningher operations began; if he remained away at dinner, her labours stillcontinued: nor is it necessary for me to particularise her course ofstudy, nor, indeed, possible; for, between ourselves, none of themale Fitz-Boodles ever could sing a note, and the jargon of scales andsolfeggios is quite unknown to me. But as no man can have seen personsaddicted to music without remarking the prodigious energies they displayin the pursuit, as there is no father of daughters, however ignorant, but is aware of the piano-rattling and voice-exercising which go on inhis house from morning till night, so let all fancy, without furtherinquiry, how the heroine of our story was at this stage of her existenceoccupied. 

Walker was delighted with her progress, and did everything but payBaroski, her instructor. We know why he didn't pay. It was his naturenot to pay bills, except on extreme compulsion; but why did not Baroskiemploy that extreme compulsion? Because, if he had received his money, he would have lost his pupil, and because he loved his pupil more thanmoney. Rather than lose her, he would have given her a guinea as wellas her cachet. He would sometimes disappoint a great personage, but henever missed his attendance on HER; and the truth must out, that he wasin love with her, as Woolsey and Eglantine had been before. 

"By the immortel Chofe!" he would say, "dat letell ding sents me mad vidher big ice! But only vait avile: in six veeks I can bring any vomanin England on her knees to me and you shall see vat I vill do vid myMorgiana. " He attended her for six weeks punctually, and yet Morgianawas never brought down on her knees; he exhausted his best stock of"gomblimends, " and she never seemed disposed to receive them withanything but laughter. And, as a matter of course, he only grew moreinfatuated with the lovely creature who was so provokingly good-humouredand so laughingly cruel. 

Benjamin Baroski was one of the chief ornaments of the musicalprofession in London; he charged a guinea for a lesson of three-quartersof an hour abroad, and he had, furthermore, a school at his ownresidence, where pupils assembled in considerable numbers, and of thatcurious mixed kind which those may see who frequent these places ofinstruction. There were very innocent young ladies with their mammas, who would hurry them off trembling to the farther corner of the roomwhen certain doubtful professional characters made their appearance. There was Miss Grigg, who sang at the "Foundling, " and Mr. Johnson, who sang at the "Eagle Tavern, " and Madame Fioravanti (a very doubtfulcharacter), who sang nowhere, but was always coming out at the ItalianOpera. There was Lumley Limpiter (Lord Tweedledale's son), one of themost accomplished tenors in town, and who, we have heard, sings withthe professionals at a hundred concerts; and with him, too, was CaptainGuzzard, of the Guards, with his tremendous bass voice, which all theworld declared to be as fine as Porto's, and who shared the applause ofBaroski's school with Mr. Bulger, the dentist of Sackville Street, whoneglected his ivory and gold plates for his voice, as every unfortunateindividual will do who is bitten by the music mania. Then amongthe ladies there were a half-score of dubious pale governesses andprofessionals with turned frocks and lank damp bandeaux of hair undershabby little bonnets; luckless creatures these, who were parting withtheir poor little store of half-guineas to be enabled to say they werepupils of Signor Baroski, and so get pupils of their own among theBritish youths, or employment in the choruses of the theatres. 

The prima donna of the little company was Amelia Larkins, Baroski's ownarticled pupil, on whose future reputation the eminent master staked hisown, whose profits he was to share, and whom he had farmed, to this end, from her father, a most respectable sheriff's officer's assistant, andnow, by his daughter's exertions, a considerable capitalist. Amelia isblonde and blue-eyed, her complexion is as bright as snow, her ringletsof the colour of straw, her figure--but why describe her figure? Has notall the world seen her at the Theatres Royal and in America under thename of Miss Ligonier?

Until Mrs. Walker arrived, Miss Larkins was the undisputed princess ofthe Baroski company--the Semiramide, the Rosina, the Tamina, the DonnaAnna. Baroski vaunted her everywhere as the great rising genius of theday, bade Catalani look to her laurels, and questioned whether MissStephens could sing a ballad like his pupil. Mrs. Howard Walker arrived, and created, on the first occasion, no small sensation. She improved, and the little society became speedily divided into Walkerites andLarkinsians; and between these two ladies (as indeed between Guzzard andBulger before mentioned, between Miss Brunck and Miss Horsman, the twocontraltos, and between the chorus-singers, after their kind) a greatrivalry arose. Larkins was certainly the better singer; but couldher straw-coloured curls and dumpy high-shouldered figure bear anycomparison with the jetty ringlets and stately form of Morgiana? Did notMrs. Walker, too, come to the music-lesson in her carriage, and with ablack velvet gown and Cashmere shawl, while poor Larkins meekly steppedfrom Bell Yard, Temple Bar, in an old print gown and clogs, which sheleft in the hall? "Larkins sing!" said Mrs. Crump, sarcastically; "I'msure she ought; her mouth's big enough to sing a duet. " Poor Larkins hadno one to make epigrams in her behoof; her mother was at home tendingthe younger ones, her father abroad following the duties of hisprofession; she had but one protector, as she thought, and that onewas Baroski. Mrs. Crump did not fail to tell Lumley Limpiter of her ownformer triumphs, and to sing him "Tink-a-tink, " which we have previouslyheard, and to state how in former days she had been called theRavenswing. And Lumley, on this hint, made a poem, in which he comparedMorgiana's hair to the plumage of the Raven's wing, and Larkinissa's tothat of the canary; by which two names the ladies began soon to be knownin the school. 

Ere long the flight of the Ravenswing became evidently stronger, whereasthat of the canary was seen evidently to droop. When Morgiana sang, allthe room would cry "Bravo!" when Amelia performed, scarce a handwas raised for applause of her, except Morgiana's own, and that theLarkinses thought was lifted in odious triumph, rather than in sympathy, for Miss L. Was of an envious turn, and little understood the generosityof her rival. 

At last, one day, the crowning victory of the Ravenswing came. In thetrio of Baroski's own opera of "Eliogabalo, " "Rosy lips and rosy wine, "Miss Larkins, who was evidently unwell, was taking the part of theEnglish captive, which she had sung in public concerts before royaldukes, and with considerable applause, and, from some reason, performedit so ill, that Baroski, slapping down the music on the piano in a fury, cried, "Mrs. Howard Walker, as Miss Larkins cannot sing to-day, willyou favour us by taking the part of Boadicetta?" Mrs. Walker got upsmilingly to obey--the triumph was too great to be withstood; and, asshe advanced to the piano, Miss Larkins looked wildly at her, and stoodsilent for a while, and, at last, shrieked out, "BENJAMIN!" in a tone ofextreme agony, and dropped fainting down on the ground. Benjamin lookedextremely red, it must be confessed, at being thus called by whatwe shall denominate his Christian name, and Limpiter looked round atGuzzard, and Miss Brunck nudged Miss Horsman, and the lesson concludedrather abruptly that day; for Miss Larkins was carried off to the nextroom, laid on a couch, and sprinkled with water. 

Good-natured Morgiana insisted that her mother should take Miss Larkinsto Bell Yard in her carriage, and went herself home on foot; but I don'tknow that this piece of kindness prevented Larkins from hating her. Ishould doubt if it did. 

Hearing so much of his wife's skill as a singer, the astute CaptainWalker determined to take advantage of it for the purpose of increasinghis "connection. " He had Lumley Limpiter at his house before long, whichwas, indeed, no great matter, for honest Lum would go anywhere for agood dinner--and an opportunity to show off his voice afterwards, and Lumley was begged to bring any more clerks in the Treasury of hisacquaintance; Captain Guzzard was invited, and any officers of theGuards whom he might choose to bring; Bulger received occasionalcards:--in a word, and after a short time, Mrs. Howard Walker'smusical parties began to be considerably suivies. Her husband had thesatisfaction to see his rooms filled by many great personages; and onceor twice in return (indeed, whenever she was wanted, or when peoplecould not afford to hire the first singers) she was asked to partieselsewhere, and treated with that killing civility which our Englisharistocracy knows how to bestow on artists. Clever and wise aristocracy!It is sweet to mark your ways, and study your commerce with inferiormen. 

I was just going to commence a tirade regarding the aristocracyhere, and to rage against that cool assumption of superiority whichdistinguishes their lordships' commerce with artists of all sorts: thatpoliteness which, if it condescends to receive artists at all, takescare to have them altogether, so that there can be no mistake abouttheir rank--that august patronage of art which rewards it with a sillyflourish of knighthood, to be sure, but takes care to exclude it fromany contact with its betters in society--I was, I say, just going tocommence a tirade against the aristocracy for excluding artists fromtheir company, and to be extremely satirical upon them, for instance, for not receiving my friend Morgiana, when it suddenly came into my headto ask, was Mrs. Walker fit to move in the best society?--to which queryit must humbly be replied that she was not. Her education was not suchas to make her quite the equal of Baker Street. She was a kind honestand clever creature; but, it must be confessed, not refined. Wherevershe went she had, if not the finest, at any rate the most showy gownin the room; her ornaments were the biggest; her hats, toques, berets, marabouts, and other fallals, always the most conspicuous. She drops"h's" here and there. I have seen her eat peas with a knife (and Walker, scowling on the opposite side of the table, striving in vain to catchher eye); and I shall never forget Lady Smigsmag's horror when sheasked for porter at dinner at Richmond, and began to drink it out of thepewter pot. It was a fine sight. She lifted up the tankard with one ofthe finest arms, covered with the biggest bracelets ever seen; and hada bird of paradise on her head, that curled round the pewter disc of thepot as she raised it, like a halo. These peculiarities she had, and hasstill. She is best away from the genteel world, that is the fact. Whenshe says that "The weather is so 'ot that it is quite debiliating;" whenshe laughs, when she hits her neighbour at dinner on the side of thewaistcoat (as she will if he should say anything that amuses her), shedoes what is perfectly natural and unaffected on her part, but whatis not customarily done among polite persons, who can sneer at herodd manners and her vanity, but don't know the kindness, honesty, andsimplicity which distinguish her. This point being admitted, it follows, of course, that the tirade against the aristocracy would, in the presentinstance, be out of place--so it shall be reserved for some otheroccasion. 

The Ravenswing was a person admirably disposed by nature to be happy. She had a disposition so kindly that any small attention would satisfyit; was pleased when alone; was delighted in a crowd; was charmed witha joke, however old; was always ready to laugh, to sing, to dance, or tobe merry; was so tender-hearted that the smallest ballad would make hercry: and hence was supposed, by many persons, to be extremely affected, and by almost all to be a downright coquette. Several competitors forher favour presented themselves besides Baroski. Young dandies used tocanter round her phaeton in the park, and might be seen haunting herdoors in the mornings. The fashionable artist of the day made a drawingof her, which was engraved and sold in the shops; a copy of it wasprinted in a song, "Black-eyed Maiden of Araby, " the words by DesmondMulligan, Esquire, the music composed and dedicated to MRS. HOWARDWALKER, by her most faithful and obliged servant, Benjamin Baroski; andat night her Opera-box was full. Her Opera-box? Yes, the heiress of the"Bootjack" actually had an Opera-box, and some of the most fashionablemanhood of London attended it. 

Now, in fact, was the time of her greatest prosperity; and her husbandgathering these fashionable characters about him, extended his "agency"considerably, and began to thank his stars that he had married a womanwho was as good as a fortune to him. 

In extending his agency, however, Mr. Walker increased his expensesproportionably, and multiplied his debts accordingly. More furniture andmore plate, more wines and more dinner-parties, became necessary; thelittle pony-phaeton was exchanged for a brougham of evenings; and we mayfancy our old friend Mr. Eglantine's rage and disgust, as he looked fromthe pit of the Opera, to see Mrs. Walker surrounded by what he called"the swell young nobs" about London, bowing to my Lord, and laughingwith his Grace, and led to carriage by Sir John. 

The Ravenswing's position at this period was rather an exceptionalone. She was an honest woman, visited by that peculiar class of ouraristocracy who chiefly associate with ladies who are NOT honest. Shelaughed with all, but she encouraged none. Old Crump was constantly ather side now when she appeared in public, the most watchful of mammas, always awake at the Opera, though she seemed to be always asleep; but nodandy debauchee could deceive her vigilance, and for this reason Walker, who disliked her (as every man naturally will, must, and should dislikehis mother-in-law), was contented to suffer her in his house to act as achaperon to Morgiana. 

None of the young dandies ever got admission of mornings to the littlemansion in the Edgware Road; the blinds were always down; and though youmight hear Morgiana's voice half across the Park as she was practising, yet the youthful hall-porter in the sugar-loaf buttons was instructed todeny her, and always declared that his mistress was gone out, with themost admirable assurance. 

After some two years of her life of splendour, there were, to be sure, agood number of morning visitors, who came with SINGLE knocks, and askedfor Captain Walker; but these were no more admitted than the dandiesaforesaid, and were referred, generally, to the Captain's office, whither they went or not at their convenience. The only man who obtainedadmission into the house was Baroski, whose cab transported him thricea week to the neighbourhood of Connaught Square, and who obtained readyentrance in his professional capacity. 

But even then, and much to the wicked little music-master'sdisappointment, the dragon Crump was always at the piano, with herendless worsted work, or else reading her unfailing Sunday Times; andBaroski could only employ "de langvitch of de ice, " as he called it, with his fair pupil, who used to mimic his manner of rolling his eyesabout afterwards, and perform "Baroski in love" for the amusement of herhusband and her mamma. The former had his reasons for overlooking theattentions of the little music-master; and as for the latter, had shenot been on the stage, and had not many hundreds of persons, in jest orearnest, made love to her? What else can a pretty woman expect who ismuch before the public? And so the worthy mother counselled her daughterto bear these attentions with good humour, rather than to make them asubject of perpetual alarm and quarrel. 

Baroski, then, was allowed to go on being in love, and was never in theleast disturbed in his passion; and if he was not successful, at leastthe little wretch could have the pleasure of HINTING that he was, andlooking particularly roguish when the Ravenswing was named, and assuringhis friends at the club, that "upon his vort dere vas no trut IN DATREBORT. "

At last one day it happened that Mrs. Crump did not arrive in time forher daughter's lesson (perhaps it rained and the omnibus was full--asmaller circumstance than that has changed a whole life ere now)--Mrs. Crump did not arrive, and Baroski did, and Morgiana, seeing no greatharm, sat down to her lesson as usual, and in the midst of it downwent the music-master on his knees, and made a declaration in the mosteloquent terms he could muster. 

"Don't be a fool, Baroski!" said the lady--(I can't help it if herlanguage was not more choice, and if she did not rise with cold dignity, exclaiming, "Unhand me, sir!")--"Don't be a fool!" said Mrs. Walker, "but get up and let's finish the lesson. "

"You hard-hearted adorable little greature, vill you not listen to me?"

"No, I vill not listen to you, Benjamin!" concluded the lady. "Get upand take a chair, and don't go on in that ridiklous way, don't!"

But Baroski, having a speech by heart, determined to deliver himselfof it in that posture, and begged Morgiana not to turn avay her divinehice, and to listen to de voice of his despair, and so forth; he seizedthe lady's hand, and was going to press it to his lips, when she said, with more spirit, perhaps, than grace, --

"Leave go my hand, sir; I'll box your ears if you don't!"

But Baroski wouldn't release her hand, and was proceeding to imprinta kiss upon it; and Mrs. Crump, who had taken the omnibus at aquarter-past twelve instead of that at twelve, had just opened thedrawing-room door and was walking in, when Morgiana, turning as red asa peony, and unable to disengage her left hand, which the musician held, raised up her right hand, and, with all her might and main, gave herlover such a tremendous slap in the face as caused him abruptly torelease the hand which he held, and would have laid him prostrate onthe carpet but for Mrs. Crump, who rushed forward and prevented him fromfalling by administering right and left a whole shower of slaps, such ashe had never endured since the day he was at school. 

"What imperence!" said that worthy lady; "you'll lay hands on mydaughter, will you? (one, two). You'll insult a woman in distress, willyou, you little coward? (one, two). Take that, and mind your manners, you filthy monster!"

Baroski bounced up in a fury. "By Chofe, you shall hear of dis!" shoutedhe; "you shall pay me dis!"

"As many more as you please, little Benjamin, " cried the widow. "Augustus" (to the page), "was that the Captain's knock?" At thisBaroski made for his hat. "Augustus, show this imperence to the door;and if he tries to come in again, call a policeman: do you hear?"

The music-master vanished very rapidly, and the two ladies, instead ofbeing frightened or falling into hysterics, as their betters would havedone, laughed at the odious monster's discomfiture, as they called him. "Such a man as that set himself up against my Howard!" said Morgiana, with becoming pride; but it was agreed between them that Howard shouldknow nothing of what had occurred, for fear of quarrels, or lest heshould be annoyed. So when he came home not a word was said; and onlythat his wife met him with more warmth than usual, you could not haveguessed that anything extraordinary had occurred. It is not my faultthat my heroine's sensibilities were not more keen, that she had not theleast occasion for sal-volatile or symptom of a fainting fit; but so itwas, and Mr. Howard Walker knew nothing of the quarrel between his wifeand her instructor until--

Until he was arrested next day at the suit of Benjamin Baroski for twohundred and twenty guineas, and, in default of payment, was conducted byMr. Tobias Larkins to his principal's lock-up house in Chancery Lane. 

CHAPTER V. IN WHICH MR. WALKER FALLS INTO DIFFICULTIES, AND MRS. WALKERMAKES MANY FOOLISH ATTEMPTS TO RESCUE HIM. 

I hope the beloved reader is not silly enough to imagine that Mr. Walker, on finding himself inspunged for debt in Chancery Lane, wasso foolish as to think of applying to any of his friends (those greatpersonages who have appeared every now and then in the course of thislittle history, and have served to give it a fashionable air). No, no;he knew the world too well; and that, though Billingsgate would give himas many dozen of claret as he could carry away under his belt, as thephrase is (I can't help it, madam, if the phrase is not more genteel), and though Vauxhall would lend him his carriage, slap him on the back, and dine at his house, --their lordships would have seen Mr. Walkerdepending from a beam in front of the Old Bailey rather than have helpedhim to a hundred pounds. 

And why, forsooth, should we expect otherwise in the world? I observethat men who complain of its selfishness are quite as selfish as theworld is, and no more liberal of money than their neighbours; and I amquite sure with regard to Captain Walker that he would have treated afriend in want exactly as he when in want was treated. There was onlyhis lady who was in the least afflicted by his captivity; and as for theclub, that went on, we are bound to say, exactly as it did on the dayprevious to his disappearance. 

By the way, about clubs--could we not, but for fear of detaining thefair reader too long, enter into a wholesome dissertation here on themanner of friendship established in those institutions, and the noblefeeling of selfishness which they are likely to encourage in the malerace? I put out of the question the stale topics of complaint, such asleaving home, encouraging gormandising and luxurious habits, etc. ; butlook also at the dealings of club-men with one another. Look at the rushfor the evening paper! See how Shiverton orders a fire in the dog-days, and Swettenham opens the windows in February. See how Cramley takesthe whole breast of the turkey on his plate, and how many times Jenkinssends away his beggarly half-pint of sherry! Clubbery is organisedegotism. Club intimacy is carefully and wonderfully removed fromfriendship. You meet Smith for twenty years, exchange the day's newswith him, laugh with him over the last joke, grow as well acquainted astwo men may be together--and one day, at the end of the list of membersof the club, you read in a little paragraph by itself, with all thehonours, MEMBER DECEASED. Smith, John, Esq. ;

or he, on the other hand, has the advantage of reading your own nameselected for a similar typographical distinction. There it is, thatabominable little exclusive list at the end of every club-catalogue--youcan't avoid it. I belong to eight clubs myself, and know that one yearFitz-Boodle, George Savage, Esq. (unless it should please fate to removemy brother and his six sons, when of course it would be Fitz-Boodle, SirGeorge Savage, Bart. ), will appear in the dismal category. There is thatlist; down I must go in it:--the day will come, and I shan't be seen inthe bow-window, someone else will be sitting in the vacant armchair:the rubber will begin as usual, and yet somehow Fitz will not be there. "Where's Fitz?" says Trumpington, just arrived from the Rhine. "Don'tyou know?" says Punter, turning down his thumb to the carpet. "You ledthe club, I think?" says Ruff to his partner (the OTHER partner!), andthe waiter snuffs the candles. 

 *****

I hope in the course of the above little pause, every single member ofa club who reads this has profited by the perusal. He may belong, Isay, to eight clubs; he will die, and not be missed by any of the fivethousand members. Peace be to him; the waiters will forget him, and hisname will pass away, and another great-coat will hang on the hook whencehis own used to be dependent. 

And this, I need not say, is the beauty of the club-institutions. If itwere otherwise--if, forsooth, we were to be sorry when our friends died, or to draw out our purses when our friends were in want, we should beinsolvent, and life would be miserable. Be it ours to button up ourpockets and our hearts; and to make merry--it is enough to swim downthis life-stream for ourselves; if Poverty is clutching hold of ourheels, or Friendship would catch an arm, kick them both off. Every manfor himself, is the word, and plenty to do too. 

My friend Captain Walker had practised the above maxims so long andresolutely as to be quite aware when he came himself to be in distress, that not a single soul in the whole universe would help him, and he tookhis measures accordingly. 

When carried to Mr. Bendigo's lock-up house, he summoned that gentlemanin a very haughty way, took a blank banker's cheque out of hispocket-book, and filling it up for the exact sum of the writ, orders Mr. Bendigo forthwith to open the door and let him go forth. 

Mr. Bendigo, smiling with exceeding archness, and putting a fingercovered all over with diamond rings to his extremely aquiline nose, inquired of Mr. Walker whether he saw anything green about his face?intimating by this gay and good-humoured interrogatory his suspicionof the unsatisfactory nature of the document handed over to him by Mr. Walker. 

"Hang it, sir!" says Mr. Walker, "go and get the cheque cashed, and bequick about it. Send your man in a cab, and here's a half-crown to payfor it. " The confident air somewhat staggers the bailiff, who asked himwhether he would like any refreshment while his man was absent gettingthe amount of the cheque, and treated his prisoner with great civilityduring the time of the messenger's journey. 

But as Captain Walker had but a balance of two pounds five and twopence(this sum was afterwards divided among his creditors, the law expensesbeing previously deducted from it), the bankers of course declined tocash the Captain's draft for two hundred and odd pounds, simply writingthe words "No effects" on the paper; on receiving which reply Walker, far from being cast down, burst out laughing very gaily, produced a realfive-pound note, and called upon his host for a bottle of champagne, which the two worthies drank in perfect friendship and good-humour. Thebottle was scarcely finished, and the young Israelitish gentleman whoacts as waiter in Cursitor Street had only time to remove the flask andthe glasses, when poor Morgiana with a flood of tears rushed into herhusband's arms, and flung herself on his neck, and calling him her"dearest, blessed Howard, " would have fainted at his feet; but that he, breaking out in a fury of oaths, asked her how, after getting him intothat scrape through her infernal extravagance, she dared to show herface before him? This address speedily frightened the poor thing outof her fainting fit--there is nothing so good for female hysterics as alittle conjugal sternness, nay, brutality, as many husbands can aver whoare in the habit of employing the remedy. 

"My extravagance, Howard?" said she, in a faint way; and quite put offher purpose of swooning by the sudden attack made upon her--"Surely, mylove, you have nothing to complain of--"

"To complain of, ma'am?" roared the excellent Walker. "Is two hundredguineas to a music-master nothing to complain of? Did you bring me sucha fortune as to authorise your taking guinea lessons? Haven't I raisedyou out of your sphere of life and introduced you to the best of theland? Haven't I dressed you like a duchess? Haven't I been for you sucha husband as very few women in the world ever had, madam?--answer methat. "

"Indeed, Howard, you were always very kind, " sobbed the lady. 

"Haven't I toiled and slaved for you--been out all day working for you?Haven't I allowed your vulgar old mother to come to your house--to myhouse, I say? Haven't I done all this?"

She could not deny it, and Walker, who was in a rage (and when a man isin a rage, for what on earth is a wife made but that he should vent hisrage on her?), continued for some time in this strain, and so abused, frightened, and overcame poor Morgiana that she left her husband fullyconvinced that she was the most guilty of beings, and bemoaning hisdouble bad fortune, that her Howard was ruined and she the cause of hismisfortunes. 

When she was gone, Mr. Walker resumed his equanimity (for he was notone of those men whom a few months of the King's Bench were likely toterrify), and drank several glasses of punch in company with his host;with whom in perfect calmness he talked over his affairs. That heintended to pay his debt and quit the spunging-house next day is amatter of course; no one ever was yet put in a spunging-house that didnot pledge his veracity he intended to quit it to-morrow. Mr. Bendigosaid he should be heartily glad to open the door to him, and in themeantime sent out diligently to see among his friends if there wereany more detainers against the Captain, and to inform the Captain'screditors to come forward against him. 

Morgiana went home in profound grief, it may be imagined, and couldhardly refrain from bursting into tears when the sugar-loaf page askedwhether master was coming home early, or whether he had taken his key;she lay awake tossing and wretched the whole night, and very early inthe morning rose up, and dressed, and went out. 

Before nine o'clock she was in Cursitor Street, and once more joyfullybounced into her husband's arms; who woke up yawning and swearingsomewhat, with a severe headache, occasioned by the jollification of theprevious night: for, strange though it may seem, there are perhaps noplaces in Europe where jollity is more practised than in prisons fordebt; and I declare for my own part (I mean, of course, that I wentto visit a friend) I have dined at Mr. Aminadab's as sumptuously as atLong's. 

But it is necessary to account for Morgiana's joyfulness; which wasstrange in her husband's perplexity, and after her sorrow of theprevious night. Well, then, when Mrs. Walker went out in the morning, she did so with a very large basket under her arm. "Shall I carry thebasket, ma'am?" said the page, seizing it with much alacrity. 

"No, thank you, " cried his mistress, with equal eagerness: "it's only--"

"Of course, ma'am, " replied the boy, sneering, "I knew it was that. "

"Glass, " continued Mrs. Walker, turning extremely red. "Havethe goodness to call a coach, sir, and not to speak till you arequestioned. "

The young gentleman disappeared upon his errand: the coach was calledand came. Mrs. Walker slipped into it with her basket, and the page wentdownstairs to his companions in the kitchen, and said, "It's a-comin'!master's in quod, and missus has gone out to pawn the plate. " When thecook went out that day, she somehow had by mistake placed in her basketa dozen of table-knives and a plated egg-stand. When the lady's-maidtook a walk in the course of the afternoon, she found she had occasionfor eight cambric pocket-handkerchiefs, (marked with her mistress'scipher), half-a-dozen pair of shoes, gloves, long and short, some silkstockings, and a gold-headed scent-bottle. "Both the new cashmeres isgone, " said she, "and there's nothing left in Mrs. Walker's trinket-boxbut a paper of pins and an old coral bracelet. " As for the page, herushed incontinently to his master's dressing-room and examined everyone of the pockets of his clothes; made a parcel of some of them, andopened all the drawers which Walker had not locked before his departure. He only found three-halfpence and a bill stamp, and about forty-fivetradesmen's accounts, neatly labelled and tied up with red tape. These three worthies, a groom who was a great admirer of Trimmer thelady's-maid, and a policeman a friend of the cook's, sat down to acomfortable dinner at the usual hour, and it was agreed among them allthat Walker's ruin was certain. The cook made the policeman a present ofa china punch-bowl which Mrs. Walker had given her; and the lady's-maidgave her friend the "Book of Beauty" for last year, and the third volumeof Byron's poems from the drawing-room table. 

"I'm dash'd if she ain't taken the little French clock, too, " said thepage, and so indeed Mrs. Walker had; it slipped in the basket whereit lay enveloped in one of her shawls, and then struck madly andunnaturally a great number of times, as Morgiana was lifting her storeof treasures out of the hackney-coach. The coachman wagged his headsadly as he saw her walking as quick as she could under her heavy load, and disappearing round the corner of the street at which Mr. Balls'scelebrated jewellery establishment is situated. It is a grand shop, withmagnificent silver cups and salvers, rare gold-headed canes, flutes, watches, diamond brooches, and a few fine specimens of the old mastersin the window, and under the words--

 BALLS, JEWELLER, you read

 Money Lent. 

in the very smallest type, on the door. 

The interview with Mr. Balls need not be described; but it must havebeen a satisfactory one, for at the end of half an hour Morgianareturned and bounded into the coach with sparkling eyes, and told thedriver to GALLOP to Cursitor Street; which, smiling, he promised to do, and accordingly set off in that direction at the rate of four miles anhour. "I thought so, " said the philosophic charioteer. "When a man'sin quod, a woman don't mind her silver spoons;" and he was so delightedwith her action, that he forgot to grumble when she came to settleaccounts with him, even though she gave him only double his fare. 

"Take me to him, " said she to the young Hebrew who opened the door. 

"To whom?" says the sarcastic youth; "there's twenty HIM'S here. You'reprecious early. "

"To Captain Walker, young man, " replied Morgiana haughtily; whereuponthe youth opening the second door, and seeing Mr. Bendigo in a flowereddressing-gown descending the stairs, exclaimed, "Papa, here's a lady forthe Captain. " "I'm come to free him, " said she, trembling, and holdingout a bundle of bank-notes. "Here's the amount of your claim, sir--twohundred and twenty guineas, as you told me last night. " The Jew took thenotes, and grinned as he looked at her, and grinned double as he lookedat his son, and begged Mrs. Walker to step into his study and take areceipt. When the door of that apartment closed upon the lady and hisfather, Mr. Bendigo the younger fell back in an agony of laughter, whichit is impossible to describe in words, and presently ran out into acourt where some of the luckless inmates of the house were alreadytaking the air, and communicated something to them which made thoseindividuals also laugh as uproariously as he had previously done. 

Well, after joyfully taking the receipt from Mr. Bendigo (how her cheeksflushed and her heart fluttered as she dried it on the blotting-book!), and after turning very pale again on hearing that the Captain had had avery bad night: "And well he might, poor dear!" said she (at which Mr. Bendigo, having no person to grin at, grinned at a marble bust ofMr. Pitt, which ornamented his sideboard)--Morgiana, I say, thesepreliminaries being concluded, was conducted to her husband's apartment, and once more flinging her arms round her dearest Howard's neck, toldhim with one of the sweetest smiles in the world, to make haste andget up and come home, for breakfast was waiting and the carriage at thedoor. 

"What do you mean, love?" said the Captain, starting up and lookingexceedingly surprised. 

"I mean that my dearest is free; that the odious little creature ispaid--at least the horrid bailiff is. "

"Have you been to Baroski?" said Walker, turning very red. 

"Howard!" said his wife, quite indignant. 

"Did--did your mother give you the money?" asked the Captain. 

"No; I had it by me" replies Mrs. Walker, with a very knowing look. 

Walker was more surprised than ever. "Have you any more by you?" saidhe. 

Mrs. Walker showed him her purse with two guineas. "That is all, love, "she said. "And I wish, " continued she, "you would give me a draft to paya whole list of little bills that have somehow all come in within thelast few days. "

"Well, well, you shall have the cheque, " continued Mr. Walker, and beganforthwith to make his toilet, which completed, he rang for Mr. Bendigo, and his bill, and intimated his wish to go home directly. 

The honoured bailiff brought the bill, but with regard to his beingfree, said it was impossible. 

"How impossible?" said Mrs. Walker, turning very red: and then verypale. "Did I not pay just now?"

"So you did, and you've got the reshipt; but there's another detaineragainst the Captain for a hundred and fifty. Eglantine and Mossrose, ofBond Street;--perfumery for five years, you know. "

"You don't mean to say you were such a fool as to pay without asking ifthere were any more detainers?" roared Walker to his wife. 

"Yes, she was though, " chuckled Mr. Bendigo; "but she'll know better thenext time: and, besides, Captain, what's a hundred and fifty pounds toyou?"

Though Walker desired nothing so much in the world at that moment asthe liberty to knock down his wife, his sense of prudence overcame hisdesire for justice: if that feeling may be called prudence on his part, which consisted in a strong wish to cheat the bailiff into the idea thathe (Walker) was an exceedingly respectable and wealthy man. Many worthypersons indulge in this fond notion, that they are imposing upon theworld; strive to fancy, for instance, that their bankers considerthem men of property because they keep a tolerable balance, pay littletradesmen's bills with ostentatious punctuality, and so forth--but theworld, let us be pretty sure, is as wise as need be, and guesses ourreal condition with a marvellous instinct, or learns it with curiousskill. The London tradesman is one of the keenest judges of human natureextant; and if a tradesman, how much more a bailiff? In reply to theironic question, "What's a hundred and fifty pounds to you?" Walker, collecting himself, answers, "It is an infamous imposition, and I owethe money no more than you do; but, nevertheless, I shall instructmy lawyers to pay it in the course of the morning: under protest, ofcourse. "

"Oh, of course, " said Mr. Bendigo, bowing and quitting the room, andleaving Mrs. Walker to the pleasure of a tete-a-tete with her husband. 

And now being alone with the partner of his bosom, the worthy gentlemanbegan an address to her which cannot be put down on paper here; becausethe world is exceedingly squeamish, and does not care to hear the wholetruth about rascals, and because the fact is that almost every otherword of the Captain's speech was a curse, such as would shock thebeloved reader were it put in print. 

Fancy, then, in lieu of the conversation, a scoundrel, disappointed andin a fury, wreaking his brutal revenge upon an amiable woman, who sitstrembling and pale, and wondering at this sudden exhibition of wrath. Fancy how he clenches his fists and stands over her, and stamps andscreams out curses with a livid face, growing wilder and wilder in hisrage; wrenching her hand when she wants to turn away, and only stoppingat last when she has fallen off the chair in a fainting fit, witha heart-breaking sob that made the Jew-boy who was listening at thekey-hole turn quite pale and walk away. Well, it is best, perhaps, thatsuch a conversation should not be told at length:--at the end ofit, when Mr. Walker had his wife lifeless on the floor, he seized awater-jug and poured it over her; which operation pretty soon broughther to herself, and shaking her black ringlets, she looked up once moreagain timidly into his face, and took his hand, and began to cry. 

He spoke now in a somewhat softer voice, and let her keep paddling onwith his hand as before; he COULDN'T speak very fiercely to the poorgirl in her attitude of defeat, and tenderness, and supplication. "Morgiana, " said he, "your extravagance and carelessness have brought meto ruin, I'm afraid. If you had chosen to have gone to Baroski, a wordfrom you would have made him withdraw the writ, and my property wouldn'thave been sacrificed, as it has now been, for nothing. It mayn't be yettoo late, however, to retrieve ourselves. This bill of Eglantine's isa regular conspiracy, I am sure, between Mossrose and Bendigo here: youmust go to Eglantine--he's an old--an old flame of yours, you know. "

She dropped his hand: "I can't go to Eglantine after what has passedbetween us, " she said; but Walker's face instantly began to wear acertain look, and she said with a shudder, "Well, well, dear, I WILLgo. " "You will go to Eglantine, and ask him to take a bill for theamount of this shameful demand--at any date, never mind what. Mind, however, to see him alone, and I'm sure if you choose you can settle thebusiness. Make haste; set off directly, and come back, as there may bemore detainers in. "

Trembling, and in a great flutter, Morgiana put on her bonnet andgloves, and went towards the door. "It's a fine morning, " said Mr. Walker, looking out: "a walk will do you good; and--Morgiana--didn't yousay you had a couple of guineas in your pocket?"

"Here it is, " said she, smiling all at once, and holding up her face tobe kissed. She paid the two guineas for the kiss. Was it not a mean act?"Is it possible that people can love where they do not respect?" saysMiss Prim: "_I_ never would. " Nobody asked you, Miss Prim: but recollectMorgiana was not born with your advantages of education and breeding;and was, in fact, a poor vulgar creature, who loved Mr. Walker, notbecause her mamma told her, nor because he was an exceedingly eligibleand well-brought-up young man, but because she could not help it, andknew no better. Nor is Mrs. Walker set up as a model of virtue: ah, no!when I want a model of virtue I will call in Baker Street, and ask for asitting of my dear (if I may be permitted to say so) Miss Prim. 

We have Mr. Howard Walker safely housed in Mr. Bendigo's establishmentin Cursitor Street, Chancery Lane; and it looks like mockery and want offeeling towards the excellent hero of this story (or, as should ratherbe said, towards the husband of the heroine) to say what he might havebeen but for the unlucky little circumstance of Baroski's passion forMorgiana. 

If Baroski had not fallen in love with Morgiana, he would not have givenher two hundred guineas' worth of lessons; he would not have so farpresumed as to seize her hand, and attempt to kiss it; if he had notattempted to kiss her, she would not have boxed his ears; he would nothave taken out the writ against Walker; Walker would have been free, very possibly rich, and therefore certainly respected: he always saidthat a month's more liberty would have set him beyond the reach ofmisfortune. 

The assertion is very likely a correct one; for Walker had a flashyenterprising genius, which ends in wealth sometimes; in the King's Benchnot seldom; occasionally, alas! in Van Diemen's Land. He might have beenrich, could he have kept his credit, and had not his personal expensesand extravagances pulled him down. He had gallantly availed himself ofhis wife's fortune; nor could any man in London, as he proudly said, have made five hundred pounds go so far. He had, as we have seen, furnished a house, sideboard, and cellar with it: he had a carriage, andhorses in his stable, and with the remainder he had purchased sharesin four companies--of three of which he was founder and director, hadconducted innumerable bargains in the foreign stocks, had lived andentertained sumptuously, and made himself a very considerable income. Hehad set up THE CAPITOL Loan and Life Assurance Company, had discoveredthe Chimborazo gold mines, and the Society for Recovering and Drainingthe Pontine Marshes; capital ten millions; patron HIS HOLINESS THE POPE. It certainly was stated in an evening paper that His Holiness had madehim a Knight of the Spur, and had offered to him the rank of Count; andhe was raising a loan for His Highness, the Cacique of Panama, who hadsent him (by way of dividend) the grand cordon of His Highness's orderof the Castle and Falcon, which might be seen any day at his office inBond Street, with the parchments signed and sealed by the Grand Masterand Falcon King-at-arms of His Highness. In a week more Walker wouldhave raised a hundred thousand pounds on His Highness's twenty per cent. Loan; he would have had fifteen thousand pounds commission for himself;his companies would have risen to par, he would have realised hisshares; he would have gone into Parliament; he would have been made abaronet, who knows? a peer, probably! "And I appeal to you, sir, " Walkerwould say to his friends, "could any man have shown better proof of hisaffection for his wife than by laying out her little miserable money asI did? They call me heartless, sir, because I didn't succeed; sir, mylife has been a series of sacrifices for that woman, such as no man everperformed before. "

A proof of Walker's dexterity and capability for business may be seenin the fact that he had actually appeased and reconciled one of hisbitterest enemies--our honest friend Eglantine. After Walker's marriageEglantine, who had now no mercantile dealings with his former agent, became so enraged with him, that, as the only means of revenge in hispower, he sent him in his bill for goods supplied to the amount ofone hundred and fifty guineas, and sued him for the amount. But Walkerstepped boldly over to his enemy, and in the course of half an hour theywere friends. 

Eglantine promised to forego his claim; and accepted in lieu of it threehundred-pound shares of the ex-Panama stock, bearing twenty-five percent. , payable half-yearly at the house of Hocus Brothers, St. Swithin'sLane; three hundred-pound shares, and the SECOND class of the orderof the Castle and Falcon, with the riband and badge. "In four years, Eglantine, my boy, I hope to get you the Grand Cordon of the order, "said Walker: "I hope to see you a KNIGHT GRAND CROSS, with a grant of ahundred thousand acres reclaimed from the Isthmus. "

To do my poor Eglantine justice, he did not care for the hundredthousand acres--it was the star that delighted him--ah! how his fatchest heaved with delight as he sewed on the cross and riband to hisdress-coat, and lighted up four wax candles and looked at himself inthe glass. He was known to wear a great-coat after that--it was that hemight wear the cross under it. That year he went on a trip to Boulogne. He was dreadfully ill during the voyage, but as the vessel enteredthe port he was seen to emerge from the cabin, his coat open, the starblazing on his chest; the soldiers saluted him as he walked the streets, he was called Monsieur le Chevalier, and when he went home he enteredinto negotiations with Walker to purchase a commission in His Highness'sservice. Walker said he would get him the nominal rank of Captain, thefees at the Panama War Office were five-and-twenty pounds, whichsum honest Eglantine produced, and had his commission, and a pack ofvisiting cards printed as Captain Archibald Eglantine, K. C. F. Many atime he looked at them as they lay in his desk, and he kept the cross inhis dressing-table, and wore it as he shaved every morning. 

His Highness the Cacique, it is well known, came to England, and hadlodgings in Regent Street, where he held a levee, at which Eglantineappeared in the Panama uniform, and was most graciously received byhis Sovereign. His Highness proposed to make Captain Eglantine hisaide-de-camp with the rank of Colonel, but the Captain's exchequerwas rather low at that moment, and the fees at the "War Office" wereperemptory. Meanwhile His Highness left Regent Street, was said by someto have returned to Panama, by others to be in his native city of Cork, by others to be leading a life of retirement in the New Cut, Lambeth;at any rate was not visible for some time, so that Captain Eglantine'sadvancement did not take place. Eglantine was somehow ashamed to mentionhis military and chivalric rank to Mr. Mossrose, when that gentlemancame into partnership with him; and kept these facts secret, untilthey were detected by a very painful circumstance. On the very day whenWalker was arrested at the suit of Benjamin Baroski, there appeared inthe newspapers an account of the imprisonment of His Highness the Princeof Panama for a bill owing to a licensed victualler in Ratcliff Highway. The magistrate to whom the victualler subsequently came to complainpassed many pleasantries on the occasion. He asked whether His Highnessdid not drink like a swan with two necks; whether he had brought anyBelles savages with him from Panama, and so forth; and the whole court, said the report, "was convulsed with laughter when Boniface produced agreen and yellow riband with a large star of the order of the Castleand Falcon, with which His Highness proposed to gratify him, in lieu ofpaying his little bill. "

It was as he was reading the above document with a bleeding heart thatMr. Mossrose came in from his daily walk to the City. "Vell, Eglantine, "says he, "have you heard the newsh?"

"About His Highness?"

"About your friend Valker; he's arrested for two hundred poundsh!"

Eglantine at this could contain no more; but told his story of how hehad been induced to accept three hundred pounds of Panama stock forhis account against Walker, and cursed his stars for his folly. "Vell, you've only to bring in another bill, " said the younger perfumer;"swear he owes you a hundred and fifty pounds, and we'll have a writ outagainst him this afternoon. "

And so a second writ was taken out against Captain Walker. 

"You'll have his wife here very likely in a day or two, " said Mr. Mossrose to his partner; "them chaps always sends their wives, and Ihope you know how to deal with her. "

"I don't value her a fig's hend, " said Eglantine. "I'll treat her likethe dust of the hearth. After that woman's conduct to me, I should liketo see her have the haudacity to come here; and if she does, you'll seehow I'll serve her. "

The worthy perfumer was, in fact, resolved to be exceedinglyhard-hearted in his behaviour towards his old love, and acted over atnight in bed the scene which was to occur when the meeting should takeplace. Oh, thought he, but it will be a grand thing to see the proudMorgiana on her knees to me; and me a-pointing to the door, and saying, "Madam, you've steeled this 'eart against you, you have;--bury therecollection of old times, of those old times when I thought my 'eartwould have broke, but it didn't--no: 'earts are made of sterner stuff. Ididn't die, as I thought I should; I stood it, and live to see the womanI despised at my feet--ha, ha, at my feet!"

In the midst of these thoughts Mr. Eglantine fell asleep; but itwas evident that the idea of seeing Morgiana once more agitated himconsiderably, else why should he have been at the pains of preparingso much heroism? His sleep was exceedingly fitful and troubled; he sawMorgiana in a hundred shapes; he dreamed that he was dressing her hair;that he was riding with her to Richmond; that the horse turned into adragon, and Morgiana into Woolsey, who took him by the throat and chokedhim, while the dragon played the key-bugle. And in the morning whenMossrose was gone to his business in the City, and he sat reading theMorning Post in his study, ah! what a thump his heart gave as the ladyof his dreams actually stood before him!

Many a lady who purchased brushes at Eglantine's shop would have giventen guineas for such a colour as his when he saw her. His heart beatviolently, he was almost choking in his stays: he had been prepared forthe visit, but his courage failed him now it had come. They were bothsilent for some minutes. 

"You know what I am come for, " at last said Morgiana from under herveil, but she put it aside as she spoke. 

"I--that is--yes--it's a painful affair, mem, " he said, giving one lookat her pale face, and then turning away in a flurry. "I beg to referyou to Blunt, Hone, and Sharpus, my lawyers, mem, " he added, collectinghimself. 

"I didn't expect this from YOU, Mr. Eglantine, " said the lady, and beganto sob. 

"And after what's 'appened, I didn't expect a visit from YOU, mem. I thought Mrs. Capting Walker was too great a dame to visit poorHarchibald Eglantine (though some of the first men in the country DOvisit him). Is there anything in which I can oblige you, mem?"

"O heavens!" cried the poor woman; "have I no friend left? I neverthought that you, too, would have deserted me, Mr. Archibald. "

The "Archibald, " pronounced in the old way, had evidently an effect onthe perfumer; he winced and looked at her very eagerly for a moment. "What can I do for you, mem?" at last said he. 

"What is this bill against Mr. Walker, for which he is now in prison?"

"Perfumery supplied for five years; that man used more 'air-brushes thanany duke in the land, and as for eau-de-Cologne, he must have bathedhimself in it. He hordered me about like a lord. He never paid me oneshilling--he stabbed me in my most vital part--but ah! ah! never mindTHAT: and I said I would be revenged, and I AM. "

The perfumer was quite in a rage again by this time, and wiped his fatface with his pocket-handkerchief, and glared upon Mrs. Walker with amost determined air. 

"Revenged on whom? Archibald--Mr. Eglantine, revenged on me--on a poorwoman whom you made miserable! You would not have done so once. "

"Ha! and a precious way you treated me ONCE, " said Eglantine: "don'ttalk to me, mem, of ONCE. Bury the recollection of once for hever!I thought my 'eart would have broke once, but no: 'earts are made ofsterner stuff. I didn't die, as I thought I should; I stood it--and Ilive to see the woman who despised me at my feet. "

"Oh, Archibald!" was all the lady could say, and she fell to sobbingagain: it was perhaps her best argument with the perfumer. 

"Oh, Harchibald, indeed!" continued he, beginning to swell; "don't callme Harchibald, Morgiana. Think what a position you might have held ifyou'd chose: when, when--you MIGHT have called me Harchibald. Nowit's no use, " added he, with harrowing pathos; "but, though I've beenwronged, I can't bear to see women in tears--tell me what I can do. "

"Dear good Mr. Eglantine, send to your lawyers and stop this horridprosecution--take Mr. Walker's acknowledgment for the debt. If he isfree, he is sure to have a very large sum of money in a few days, andwill pay you all. Do not ruin him--do not ruin me by persisting now. Bethe old kind Eglantine you were. "

Eglantine took a hand, which Morgiana did not refuse; he thought aboutold times. He had known her since childhood almost; as a girl he dandledher on his knee at the "Kidneys;" as a woman he had adored her--hisheart was melted. 

"He did pay me in a sort of way, " reasoned the perfumer withhimself--"these bonds, though they are not worth much, I took 'em forbetter or for worse, and I can't bear to see her crying, and to trampleon a woman in distress. Morgiana, " he added, in a loud cheerful voice, "cheer up; I'll give you a release for your husband: I WILL be the oldkind Eglantine I was. "

"Be the old kind jackass you vash!" here roared a voice that made Mr. Eglantine start. "Vy, vat an old fat fool you are, Eglantine, to give upour just debts because a voman comes snivelling and crying to you--andsuch a voman, too!" exclaimed Mr. Mossrose, for his was the voice. 

"Such a woman, sir?" cried the senior partner. 

"Yes; such a woman--vy, didn't she jilt you herself?--hasn't she beentrying the same game with Baroski; and are you so green as to give upa hundred and fifty pounds because she takes a fancy to come vimperinghere? I won't, I can tell you. The money's as much mine as it is yours, and I'll have it or keep Walker's body, that's what I will. "

At the presence of his partner, the timid good genius of Eglantine, which had prompted him to mercy and kindness, at once outspread itsfrightened wings and flew away. 

"You see how it is, Mrs. W. , " said he, looking down; "it's an affairof business--in all these here affairs of business Mr. Mossrose is themanaging man; ain't you, Mr. Mossrose?"

"A pretty business it would be if I wasn't, " replied Mossrose, doggedly. "Come, ma'am, " says he, "I'll tell you vat I do: I take fifty per shent;not a farthing less--give me that, and out your husband goes. "

"Oh, sir, Howard will pay you in a week. "

"Vell, den, let him stop at my uncle Bendigo's for a week, and come outden--he's very comfortable there, " said Shylock with a grin. "Hadn'tyou better go to the shop, Mr. Eglantine, " continued he, "and look afteryour business? Mrs. Walker can't want you to listen to her all day. "

Eglantine was glad of the excuse, and slunk out of the studio; not intothe shop, but into his parlour; where he drank off a great glass ofmaraschino, and sat blushing and exceedingly agitated, until Mossrosecame to tell him that Mrs. W. Was gone, and wouldn't trouble him anymore. But although he drank several more glasses of maraschino, and wentto the play that night, and to the Cider-cellars afterwards, neitherthe liquor, nor the play, nor the delightful comic songs at the cellars, could drive Mrs. Walker out of his head, and the memory of old times, and the image of her pale weeping face. 

Morgiana tottered out of the shop, scarcely heeding the voice of Mr. Mossrose, who said, "I'll take forty per shent" (and went back to hisduty cursing himself for a soft-hearted fool for giving up so much ofhis rights to a puling woman). Morgiana, I say, tottered out of theshop, and went up Conduit Street, weeping, weeping with all her eyes. She was quite faint, for she had taken nothing that morning but theglass of water which the pastry-cook in the Strand had given her, andwas forced to take hold of the railings of a house for support just asa little gentleman with a yellow handkerchief under his arm was issuingfrom the door. 

"Good heavens, Mrs. Walker!" said the gentleman. It was no other thanMr. Woolsey, who was going forth to try a body-coat for a customer. "Areyou ill?--what's the matter?--for God's sake come in!" and he took herarm under his, and led her into his back-parlour, and seated her, andhad some wine and water before her in one minute, before she had saidone single word regarding herself. 

As soon as she was somewhat recovered, and with the interruption ofa thousand sobs, the poor thing told as well as she could her littlestory. Mr. Eglantine had arrested Mr. Walker: she had been trying togain time for him; Eglantine had refused. 

"The hard-hearted cowardly brute to refuse HER anything!" said loyal Mr. Woolsey. "My dear, " says he, "I've no reason to love your husband, and Iknow too much about him to respect him; but I love and respect YOU, andwill spend my last shilling to serve you. " At which Morgiana could onlytake his hand and cry a great deal more than ever. She said Mr. Walkerwould have a great deal of money in a week, that he was the best ofhusbands, and she was sure Mr. Woolsey would think better of him whenhe knew him; that Mr. Eglantine's bill was one hundred and fifty pounds, but that Mr. Mossrose would take forty per cent. If Mr. Woolsey couldsay how much that was. 

"I'll pay a thousand pound to do you good, " said Mr. Woolsey, bouncingup; "stay here for ten minutes, my dear, until my return, and all shallbe right, as you will see. " He was back in ten minutes, and had calleda cab from the stand opposite (all the coachmen there had seen andcommented on Mrs. Walker's woebegone looks), and they were off forCursitor Street in a moment. "They'll settle the whole debt for twentypounds, " said he, and showed an order to that effect from Mr. Mossroseto Mr. Bendigo, empowering the latter to release Walker on receiving Mr. Woolsey's acknowledgment for the above sum. 

"There's no use paying it, " said Mr. Walker, doggedly; "it would onlybe robbing you, Mr. Woolsey--seven more detainers have come in while mywife has been away. I must go through the court now; but, " he added in awhisper to the tailor, "my good sir, my debts of HONOUR are sacred, andif you will have the goodness to lend ME the twenty pounds, I pledge youmy word as a gentleman to return it when I come out of quod. "

It is probable that Mr. Woolsey declined this; for, as soon as he wasgone, Walker, in a tremendous fury, began cursing his wife for dawdlingthree hours on the road. "Why the deuce, ma'am, didn't you take a cab?"roared he, when he heard she had walked to Bond Street. "Those writshave only been in half an hour, and I might have been off but for you. "

"Oh, Howard, " said she, "didn't you take--didn't I give you my--my lastshilling?" and fell back and wept again more bitterly than ever. 

"Well, love, " said her amiable husband, turning rather red, "never mind, it wasn't your fault. It is but going through the court. It is no greatodds. I forgive you. "

CHAPTER VI. IN WHICH MR. WALKER STILL REMAINS IN DIFFICULTIES, BUT SHOWSGREAT RESIGNATION UNDER HIS MISFORTUNES. 

The exemplary Walker, seeing that escape from his enemies was hopeless, and that it was his duty as a man to turn on them and face them, nowdetermined to quit the splendid though narrow lodgings which Mr. Bendigo had provided for him, and undergo the martyrdom of the Fleet. Accordingly, in company with that gentleman, he came over to HerMajesty's prison, and gave himself into the custody of the officersthere; and did not apply for the accommodation of the Rules (by whichin those days the captivity of some debtors was considerably lightened), because he knew perfectly well that there was no person in the wideworld who would give a security for the heavy sums for which Walker wasanswerable. What these sums were is no matter, and on this head we donot think it at all necessary to satisfy the curiosity of the reader. Hemay have owed hundreds--thousands, his creditors only can tell; he paidthe dividend which has been formerly mentioned, and showed thereby hisdesire to satisfy all claims upon him to the uttermost farthing. 

As for the little house in Connaught Square, when, after quitting herhusband, Morgiana drove back thither, the door was opened by the page, who instantly thanked her to pay his wages; and in the drawing-room, ona yellow satin sofa, sat a seedy man (with a pot of porter beside himplaced on an album for fear of staining the rosewood table), and theseedy man signified that he had taken possession of the furniture inexecution for a judgment debt. Another seedy man was in the dining-room, reading a newspaper, and drinking gin; he informed Mrs. Walker thathe was the representative of another judgment debt and of anotherexecution:--"There's another on 'em in the kitchen, " said the page, "taking an inwentory of the furniture; and he swears he'll have you tookup for swindling, for pawning the plate. "

"Sir, " said Mr. Woolsey, for that worthy man had conducted Morgianahome--"sir, " said he, shaking his stick at the young page, "if you giveany more of your impudence, I'll beat every button off your jacket:" andas there were some four hundred of these ornaments, the page was silent. It was a great mercy for Morgiana that the honest and faithful tailorhad accompanied her. The good fellow had waited very patiently for herfor an hour in the parlour or coffee-room of the lock-up house, knowingfull well that she would want a protector on her way homewards; and hiskindness will be more appreciated when it is stated that, duringthe time of his delay in the coffee-room, he had been subject to theentreaties, nay, to the insults, of Cornet Fipkin of the Blues, who wasin prison at the suit of Linsey, Woolsey and Co. , and who happened to betaking his breakfast in the apartment when his obdurate creditor enteredit. The Cornet (a hero of eighteen, who stood at least five feet threein his boots, and owed fifteen thousand pounds) was so enraged at theobduracy of his creditor that he said he would have thrown him out ofthe window but for the bars which guarded it; and entertained seriousthoughts of knocking the tailor's head off, but that the latter, puttinghis right leg forward and his fists in a proper attitude, told theyoung officer to "come on;" on which the Cornet cursed the tailor for a"snob, " and went back to his breakfast. 

The execution people having taken charge of Mr. Walker's house, Mrs. Walker was driven to take refuge with her mamma near "Sadler's Wells, "and the Captain remained comfortably lodged in the Fleet. He had someready money, and with it managed to make his existence exceedinglycomfortable. He lived with the best society of the place, consisting ofseveral distinguished young noblemen and gentlemen. He spent the morningplaying at fives and smoking cigars; the evening smoking cigars anddining comfortably. Cards came after dinner; and, as the Captain wasan experienced player, and near a score of years older than most of hisfriends, he was generally pretty successful: indeed, if he had receivedall the money that was owed to him, he might have come out of prisonand paid his creditors twenty shillings in the pound--that is, if he hadbeen minded to do so. But there is no use in examining into that pointtoo closely, for the fact is, young Fipkin only paid him forty poundsout of seven hundred, for which he gave him I. O. U. 's; Algernon Deuceacenot only did not pay him three hundred and twenty which he lost at blindhookey, but actually borrowed seven and sixpence in money from Walker, which has never been repaid to this day; and Lord Doublequits actuallylost nineteen thousand pounds to him at heads and tails, which he neverpaid, pleading drunkenness and his minority. The reader may recollect aparagraph which went the round of the papers entitled--

"Affair of honour in the Fleet Prison. --Yesterday morning (behind thepump in the second court) Lord D-bl-qu-ts and Captain H-w-rd W-lk-r (anear relative, we understand, of his Grace the Duke of N-rf-lk) hada hostile meeting and exchanged two shots. These two young sprigs ofnobility were attended to the ground by Major Flush, who, by the way, is FLUSH no longer, and Captain Pam, late of the ---- Dragoons. Play issaid to have been the cause of the quarrel, and the gallant Captain isreported to have handled the noble lord's nose rather roughly at onestage of the transactions. "

When Morgiana at "Sadler's Wells" heard these news, she was ready tofaint with terror; and rushed to the Fleet Prison, and embraced her lordand master with her usual expansion and fits of tears: very much to thatgentleman's annoyance, who happened to be in company with Pain and Flushat the time, and did not care that his handsome wife should be seentoo much in the dubious precincts of the Fleet. He had at least so muchshame about him, and had always rejected her entreaties to be allowed toinhabit the prison with him. 

"It is enough, " would he say, casting his eyes heavenward, and with amost lugubrious countenance--"it is enough, Morgiana, that _I_ shouldsuffer, even though your thoughtlessness has been the cause of my ruin. But enough of THAT! I will not rebuke you for faults for which I knowyou are now repentant; and I never could bear to see you in the midstof the miseries of this horrible place. Remain at home with your mother, and let me drag on the weary days here alone. If you can get me any moreof that pale sherry, my love, do. I require something to cheer me insolitude, and have found my chest very much relieved by that wine. Putmore pepper and eggs, my dear, into the next veal-pie you make me. Ican't eat the horrible messes in the coffee-room here. "

It was Walker's wish, I can't tell why, except that it is the wish ofa great number of other persons in this strange world, to make hiswife believe that he was wretched in mind and ill in health; and allassertions to this effect the simple creature received with numberlesstears of credulity: she would go home to Mrs. Crump, and say how herdarling Howard was pining away, how he was ruined for HER, and with whatangelic sweetness he bore his captivity. The fact is, he bore it with somuch resignation that no other person in the world could see that hewas unhappy. His life was undisturbed by duns; his day was his own frommorning till night; his diet was good, his acquaintances jovial, hispurse tolerably well supplied, and he had not one single care to annoyhim. 

Mrs. Crump and Woolsey, perhaps, received Morgiana's account of herhusband's miseries with some incredulity. The latter was now a dailyvisitor to "Sadler's Wells. " His love for Morgiana had become a warmfatherly generous regard for her; it was out of the honest fellow'scellar that the wine used to come which did so much good to Mr. Walker'schest; and he tried a thousand ways to make Morgiana happy. 

A very happy day, indeed, it was when, returning from her visit to theFleet, she found in her mother's sitting-room her dear grand rosewoodpiano, and every one of her music-books, which the kind-hearted tailorhad purchased at the sale of Walker's effects. And I am not ashamedto say that Morgiana herself was so charmed, that when, as usual, Mr. Woolsey came to drink tea in the evening, she actually gave him a kiss;which frightened Mr. Woolsey, and made him blush exceedingly. Shesat down, and played him that evening every one of the songs whichhe liked--the OLD songs--none of your Italian stuff. Podmore, the oldmusic-master, was there too, and was delighted and astonished at theprogress in singing which Morgiana had made; and when the little partyseparated, he took Mr. Woolsey by the hand, and said, "Give me leave totell you, sir, that you're a TRUMP. "

"That he is, " said Canterfield, the first tragic; "an honour to humannature. A man whose hand is open as day to melting charity, and whoseheart ever melts at the tale of woman's distress. "

"Pooh, pooh, stuff and nonsense, sir, " said the tailor; but, upon myword, Mr. Canterfield's words were perfectly correct. I wish as muchcould be said in favour of Woolsey's old rival, Mr. Eglantine, whoattended the sale too, but it was with a horrid kind of satisfactionat the thought that Walker was ruined. He bought the yellow satinsofa before mentioned, and transferred it to what he calls his"sitting-room, " where it is to this day, bearing many marks of the bestbear's grease. Woolsey bid against Baroski for the piano, very nearlyup to the actual value of the instrument, when the artist withdrew fromcompetition; and when he was sneering at the ruin of Mr. Walker, thetailor sternly interrupted him by saying, "What the deuce are YOUsneering at? You did it, sir; and you're paid every shilling of yourclaim, ain't you?" On which Baroski turned round to Miss Larkins, and said, Mr. Woolsey was a "snop;" the very word, though pronouncedsomewhat differently, which the gallant Cornet Fipkin had applied tohim. 

Well; so he WAS a snob. But, vulgar as he was, I declare, for my part, that I have a greater respect for Mr. Woolsey than for any singlenobleman or gentleman mentioned in this true history. 

It will be seen from the names of Messrs. Canterfield and Podmorethat Morgiana was again in the midst of the widow Crump's favouritetheatrical society; and this, indeed, was the case. The widow's littleroom was hung round with the pictures which were mentioned at thecommencement of the story as decorating the bar of the "Bootjack;" andseveral times in a week she received her friends from "The Wells, " andentertained them with such humble refreshments of tea and crumpets asher modest means permitted her to purchase. Among these persons Morgianalived and sang quite as contentedly as she had ever done among thedemireps of her husband's society; and, only she did not dare to own itto herself, was a great deal happier than she had been for many a day. Mrs. Captain Walker was still a great lady amongst them. Even in hisruin, Walker, the director of three companies, and the owner of thesplendid pony-chaise, was to these simple persons an awful character;and when mentioned they talked with a great deal of gravity of his beingin the country, and hoped Mrs. Captain W. Had good news of him. They allknew he was in the Fleet; but had he not in prison fought a duel with aviscount? Montmorency (of the Norfolk Circuit) was in the Fleet too;and when Canterfield went to see poor Montey, the latter had pointed outWalker to his friend, who actually hit Lord George Tennison across theshoulders in play with a racket-bat; which event was soon made known tothe whole green-room. 

"They had me up one day, " said Montmorency, "to sing a comic song, andgive my recitations; and we had champagne and lobster-salad: SUCH nobs!"added the player. "Billingsgate and Vauxhall were there too, and leftcollege at eight o'clock. "

When Morgiana was told of the circumstance by her mother, she hoped herdear Howard had enjoyed the evening, and was thankful that for once hecould forget his sorrows. Nor, somehow, was she ashamed of herself forbeing happy afterwards, but gave way to her natural good-humour withoutrepentance or self-rebuke. I believe, indeed (alas! why are we madeacquainted with the same fact regarding ourselves long after it is pastand gone?)--I believe these were the happiest days of Morgiana's wholelife. She had no cares except the pleasant one of attending on herhusband, an easy smiling temperament which made her regardless ofto-morrow; and, add to this, a delightful hope relative to a certaininteresting event which was about to occur, and which I shall notparticularise further than by saying, that she was cautioned against toomuch singing by Mr. Squills, her medical attendant; and that widow Crumpwas busy making up a vast number of little caps and diminutive cambricshirts, such as delighted GRANDMOTHERS are in the habit of fashioning. I hope this is as genteel a way of signifying the circumstance whichwas about to take place in the Walker family as Miss Prim herself coulddesire. Mrs. Walker's mother was about to become a grandmother. There'sa phrase! The Morning Post, which says this story is vulgar, I'm surecannot quarrel with that. I don't believe the whole Court Guide wouldconvey an intimation more delicately. 

Well, Mrs. Crump's little grandchild was born, entirely to thedissatisfaction, I must say, of his father; who, when the infant wasbrought to him in the Fleet, had him abruptly covered up in his cloakagain, from which he had been removed by the jealous prison doorkeepers:why, do you think? Walker had a quarrel with one of them, and the wretchpersisted in believing that the bundle Mrs. Crump was bringing to herson-in-law was a bundle of disguised brandy!

"The brutes!" said the lady; "and the father's a brute, too, " said she. "He takes no more notice of me than if I was a kitchen-maid, and ofWoolsey than if he was a leg of mutton--the dear blessed little cherub!"

Mrs. Crump was a mother-in-law; let us pardon her hatred of herdaughter's husband. 

The Woolsey compared in the above sentence both to a leg of mutton anda cherub, was not the eminent member of the firm of Linsey, Woolsey, andCo. , but the little baby, who was christened Howard Woolsey Walker, withthe full consent of the father; who said the tailor was a deuced goodfellow, and felt really obliged to him for the sherry, for a frock-coatwhich he let him have in prison, and for his kindness to Morgiana. Thetailor loved the little boy with all his soul; he attended his motherto her churching, and the child to the font; and, as a present to hislittle godson on his christening, he sent two yards of the finest whitekerseymere in his shop, to make him a cloak. The Duke had had a pair ofinexpressibles off that very piece. 

House-furniture is bought and sold, music-lessons are given, childrenare born and christened, ladies are confined and churched--time, inother words, passes--and yet Captain Walker still remains in prison!Does it not seem strange that he should still languish there betweenpalisaded walls near Fleet Market, and that he should not be restored tothat active and fashionable world of which he was an ornament? The factis, the Captain had been before the court for the examination of hisdebts; and the Commissioner, with a cruelty quite shameful towardsa fallen man, had qualified his ways of getting money in most severelanguage, and had sent him back to prison again for the space of ninecalendar months, an indefinite period, and until his accounts couldbe made up. This delay Walker bore like a philosopher, and, far fromrepining, was still the gayest fellow of the tennis-court, and the soulof the midnight carouse. 

There is no use in raking up old stories, and hunting through filesof dead newspapers, to know what were the specific acts which made theCommissioner so angry with Captain Walker. Many a rogue has come beforethe Court, and passed through it since then: and I would lay a wagerthat Howard Walker was not a bit worse than his neighbours. But as hewas not a lord, and as he had no friends on coming out of prison, andhad settled no money on his wife, and had, as it must be confessed, anexceedingly bad character, it is not likely that the latter wouldbe forgiven him when once more free in the world. For instance, whenDoublequits left the Fleet, he was received with open arms by hisfamily, and had two-and-thirty horses in his stables before a weekwas over. Pam, of the Dragoons, came out, and instantly got a place asgovernment courier--a place found so good of late years (and no wonder, it is better pay than that of a colonel), that our noblemen and gentryeagerly press for it. Frank Hurricane was sent out as registrar ofTobago, or Sago, or Ticonderago; in fact, for a younger son of goodfamily it is rather advantageous to get into debt twenty or thirtythousand pounds: you are sure of a good place afterwards in thecolonies. Your friends are so anxious to get rid of you, that they willmove heaven and earth to serve you. And so all the above companions ofmisfortune with Walker were speedily made comfortable; but HE had norich parents; his old father was dead in York jail. How was he to startin the world again? What friendly hand was there to fill his pocket withgold, and his cup with sparkling champagne? He was, in fact, an objectof the greatest pity--for I know of no greater than a gentleman of hishabits without the means of gratifying them. He must live well, andhe has not the means. Is there a more pathetic case? As for a mere lowbeggar--some labourless labourer, or some weaver out of place--don'tlet us throw away our compassion upon THEM. Psha! they're accustomedto starve. They CAN sleep upon boards, or dine off a crust; whereasa gentleman would die in the same situation. I think this was poorMorgiana's way of reasoning. For Walker's cash in prison beginningpresently to run low, and knowing quite well that the dear fellow couldnot exist there without the luxuries to which he had been accustomed, she borrowed money from her mother, until the poor old lady was a sec. She even confessed, with tears, to Woolsey, that she was in particularwant of twenty pounds, to pay a poor milliner, whose debt she could notbear to put in her husband's schedule. And I need not say she carriedthe money to her husband, who might have been greatly benefited byit--only he had a bad run of luck at the cards; and how the deuce can aman help THAT?

Woolsey had repurchased for her one of the Cashmere shawls. She left itbehind her one day at the Fleet prison, and some rascal stole it there;having the grace, however, to send Woolsey the ticket, signifying theplace where it had been pawned. Who could the scoundrel have been?Woolsey swore a great oath, and fancied he knew; but if it was Walkerhimself (as Woolsey fancied, and probably as was the case) who made awaywith the shawl, being pressed thereto by necessity, was it fair to callhim a scoundrel for so doing, and should we not rather laud the delicacyof his proceeding? He was poor: who can command the cards? But he didnot wish his wife should know HOW poor: he could not bear that sheshould suppose him arrived at the necessity of pawning a shawl. 

She who had such beautiful ringlets, of a sudden pleaded cold in thehead, and took to wearing caps. One summer evening, as she and the babyand Mrs. Crump and Woolsey (let us say all four babies together) werelaughing and playing in Mrs. Crump's drawing-room--playing the mostabsurd gambols, fat Mrs. Crump, for instance, hiding behind the sofa, Woolsey chuck-chucking, cock-a-doodle-dooing, and performing thoseindescribable freaks which gentlemen with philoprogenitive organs willexecute in the company of children--in the midst of their play the babygave a tug at his mother's cap; off it came--her hair was cut close toher head!

Morgiana turned as red as sealing-wax, and trembled very much; Mrs. Crump screamed, "My child, where is your hair?" and Woolsey, burstingout with a most tremendous oath against Walker that would send Miss Priminto convulsions, put his handkerchief to his face, and actually wept. "The infernal bubble-ubble-ackguard!" said he, roaring and clenching hisfists. 

As he had passed the Bower of Bloom a few days before, he saw Mossrose, who was combing out a jet-black ringlet, and held it up, as if forWoolsey's examination, with a peculiar grin. The tailor did notunderstand the joke, but he saw now what had happened. Morgiana had soldher hair for five guineas; she would have sold her arm had her husbandbidden her. On looking in her drawers it was found she had sold almostall her wearing apparel; the child's clothes were all there, however. It was because her husband talked of disposing of a gilt coral thatthe child had, that she had parted with the locks which had formed herpride. 

"I'll give you twenty guineas for that hair, you infamous fat coward, "roared the little tailor to Eglantine that evening. "Give it up, or I'llkill you-"

"Mr. Mossrose! Mr. Mossrose!" shouted the perfumer. 

"Vell, vatsh de matter, vatsh de row, fight avay, my boys; two to oneon the tailor, " said Mr. Mossrose, much enjoying the sport (for Woolsey, striding through the shop without speaking to him, had rushed into thestudio, where he plumped upon Eglantine). 

"Tell him about that hair, sir. "

"That hair! Now keep yourself quiet, Mister Timble, and don't tink forto bully ME. You mean Mrs. Valker's 'air? Vy, she sold it me. "

"And the more blackguard you for buying it! Will you take twenty guineasfor it?"

"No, " said Mossrose. 

"Twenty-five?"

"Can't, " said Mossrose. 

"Hang it! will you take forty? There!"

"I vish I'd kep it, " said the Hebrew gentleman, with unfeigned regret. "Eglantine dressed it this very night. "

"For Countess Baldenstiern, the Swedish Hambassador's lady, " saysEglantine (his Hebrew partner was by no means a favourite with theladies, and only superintended the accounts of the concern). "It's thisvery night at Devonshire 'Ouse, with four hostrich plumes, lappets, andtrimmings. And now, Mr. Woolsey, I'll trouble you to apologise. "

Mr. Woolsey did not answer, but walked up to Mr. Eglantine, and snappedhis fingers so close under the perfumer's nose that the latter startedback and seized the bell-rope. Mossrose burst out laughing, and thetailor walked majestically from the shop, with both hands stuck betweenthe lappets of his coat. 

"My dear, " said he to Morgiana a short time afterwards, "you mustnot encourage that husband of yours in his extravagance, and sell theclothes off your poor back that he may feast and act the fine gentlemanin prison. "

"It is his health, poor dear soul!" interposed Mrs. Walker: "his chest. Every farthing of the money goes to the doctors, poor fellow!"

"Well, now listen: I am a rich man" (it was a great fib, for Woolsey'sincome, as a junior partner of the firm, was but a small one); "I canvery well afford to make him an allowance while he is in the Fleet, andhave written to him to say so. But if you ever give him a penny, or sella trinket belonging to you, upon my word and honour I will withdrawthe allowance, and, though it would go to my heart, I'll never see youagain. You wouldn't make me unhappy, would you?"

"I'd go on my knees to serve you, and Heaven bless you, " said the wife. 

"Well, then, you must give me this promise. " And she did. "And now, "said he, "your mother, and Podmore, and I have been talking overmatters, and we've agreed that you may make a very good income foryourself; though, to be sure, I wish it could have been managed anyother way; but needs must, you know. You're the finest singer in theuniverse. "

"La!" said Morgiana, highly delighted. 

"_I_ never heard anything like you, though I'm no judge. Podmore says heis sure you will do very well, and has no doubt you might get very goodengagements at concerts or on the stage; and as that husband will neverdo any good, and you have a child to support, sing you must. "

"Oh! how glad I should be to pay his debts and repay all he has done forme, " cried Mrs. Walker. "Think of his giving two hundred guineas to Mr. Baroski to have me taught. Was not that kind of him? Do you REALLY thinkI should succeed?

"There's Miss Larkins has succeeded. "

"The little high-shouldered vulgar thing!" says Morgiana. "I'm sure Iought to succeed if SHE did. "

"She sing against Morgiana?" said Mrs. Crump. "I'd like to see her, indeed! She ain't fit to snuff a candle to her. "

"I dare say not, " said the tailor, "though I don't understand the thingmyself: but if Morgiana can make a fortune, why shouldn't she?"

"Heaven knows we want it, Woolsey, " cried Mrs. Crump. "And to see her onthe stage was always the wish of my heart:" and so it had formerly beenthe wish of Morgiana; and now, with the hope of helping her husband andchild, the wish became a duty, and she fell to practising once more frommorning till night. 

One of the most generous of men and tailors who ever lived now promised, if further instruction should be considered necessary (though that hecould hardly believe possible), that he would lend Morgiana any sumrequired for the payment of lessons; and accordingly she once morebetook herself, under Podmore's advice, to the singing school. Baroski'sacademy was, after the passages between them, out of the question, and she placed herself under the instruction of the excellent Englishcomposer Sir George Thrum, whose large and awful wife, Lady Thrum, dragon of virtue and propriety, kept watch over the master and thepupils, and was the sternest guardian of female virtue on or off anystage. 

Morgiana came at a propitious moment. Baroski had launched Miss Larkinsunder the name of Ligonier. The Ligonier was enjoying considerablesuccess, and was singing classical music to tolerable audiences; whereasMiss Butts, Sir George's last pupil, had turned out a complete failure, and the rival house was only able to make a faint opposition to the newstar with Miss M'Whirter, who, though an old favourite, had lost herupper notes and her front teeth, and, the fact was, drew no longer. 

Directly Sir George heard Mrs. Walker, he tapped Podmore, whoaccompanied her, on the waistcoat, and said, "Poddy, thank you; we'llcut the orange boy's throat with that voice. " It was by the familiartitle of orange boy that the great Baroski was known among hisopponents. 

"We'll crush him, Podmore, " said Lady Thrum, in her deep hollow voice. "You may stop and dine. " And Podmore stayed to dinner, and ate coldmutton, and drank Marsala with the greatest reverence for the greatEnglish composer. The very next day Lady Thrum hired a pair of horses, and paid a visit to Mrs. Crump and her daughter at "Sadler's Wells. "

All these things were kept profoundly secret from Walker, who receivedvery magnanimously the allowance of two guineas a week which Woolseymade him, and with the aid of the few shillings his wife could bringhim, managed to exist as best he might. He did not dislike gin when hecould get no claret, and the former liquor, under the name of "tape, "used to be measured out pretty liberally in what was formerly HerMajesty's prison of the Fleet. 

Morgiana pursued her studies under Thrum, and we shall hear in the nextchapter how it was she changed her name to RAVENSWING. 

CHAPTER VII. IN WHICH MORGIANA ADVANCES TOWARDS FAME AND HONOUR, AND INWHICH SEVERAL GREAT LITERARY CHARACTERS MAKE THEIR APPEARANCE. 

"We must begin, my dear madam, " said Sir George Thrum, "by unlearningall that Mr. Baroski (of whom I do not wish to speak with the slightestdisrespect) has taught you!"

Morgiana knew that every professor says as much, and submitted toundergo the study requisite for Sir George's system with perfect goodgrace. Au fond, as I was given to understand, the methods of the twoartists were pretty similar; but as there was rivalry between them, andcontinual desertion of scholars from one school to another, it wasfair for each to take all the credit he could get in the success ofany pupil. If a pupil failed, for instance, Thrum would say Baroski hadspoiled her irretrievably; while the German would regret "Dat dat yongvoman, who had a good organ, should have trown away her dime wid dat oldDrum. " When one of these deserters succeeded, "Yes, yes, " would eitherprofessor cry, "I formed her; she owes her fortune to me. " Both of themthus, in future days, claimed the education of the famous Ravenswing;and even Sir George Thrum, though he wished to ecraser the Ligonier, pretended that her present success was his work because once she hadbeen brought by her mother, Mrs. Larkins, to sing for Sir George'sapproval. 

When the two professors met it was with the most delighted cordialityon the part of both. "Mein lieber Herr, " Thrum would say (with somemalice), "your sonata in x flat is divine. " "Chevalier, " Baroski wouldreply, "dat andante movement in w is worthy of Beethoven. I gif youmy sacred honour, " and so forth. In fact, they loved each other asgentlemen in their profession always do. 

The two famous professors conduct their academies on very oppositeprinciples. Baroski writes ballet music; Thrum, on the contrary, says"he cannot but deplore the dangerous fascinations of the dance, " andwrites more for Exeter Hall and Birmingham. While Baroski drives a cabin the Park with a very suspicious Mademoiselle Leocadie, or Amenaide, by his side, you may see Thrum walking to evening church with his lady, and hymns are sung there of his own composition. He belongs to the"Athenaeum Club, " he goes to the Levee once a year, he doeseverything that a respectable man should; and if, by the means of thisrespectability, he manages to make his little trade far more profitablethan it otherwise would be, are we to quarrel with him for it?

Sir George, in fact, had every reason to be respectable. He had been achoir-boy at Windsor, had played to the old King's violoncello, hadbeen intimate with him, and had received knighthood at the hand of hisrevered sovereign. He had a snuff-box which His Majesty gave him, andportraits of him and the young princes all over the house. He had alsoa foreign order (no other, indeed, than the Elephant and Castle ofKalbsbraten-Pumpernickel), conferred upon him by the Grand Duke whenhere with the allied sovereigns in 1814. With this ribbon round hisneck, on gala days, and in a white waistcoat, the old gentleman lookedsplendid as he moved along in a blue coat with the Windsor button, andneat black small-clothes, and silk stockings. He lived in an old talldingy house, furnished in the reign of George III. , his beloved master, and not much more cheerful now than a family vault. They are awfullyfunereal, those ornaments of the close of the last century--tall gloomyhorse-hair chairs, mouldy Turkey carpets with wretched druggets to guardthem, little cracked sticking-plaster miniatures of people in tours andpigtails over high-shouldered mantelpieces, two dismal urns on each sideof a lanky sideboard, and in the midst a queer twisted receptaclefor worn-out knives with green handles. Under the sideboard stands acellaret that looks as if it held half a bottle of currant wine, anda shivering plate-warmer that never could get any comfort out of thewretched old cramped grate yonder. Don't you know in such houses thegrey gloom that hangs over the stairs, the dull-coloured old carpet thatwinds its way up the same, growing thinner, duller, and more threadbareas it mounts to the bedroom floors? There is something awful in thebedroom of a respectable old couple of sixty-five. Think of the oldfeathers, turbans, bugles, petticoats, pomatum-pots, spencers, whitesatin shoes, false fronts, the old flaccid boneless stays tied up infaded riband, the dusky fans, the old forty-years-old baby linen, theletters of Sir George when he was young, the doll of poor Maria who diedin 1803, Frederick's first corduroy breeches, and the newspaper whichcontains the account of his distinguishing himself at the siege ofSeringapatam. All these lie somewhere, damp and squeezed down into glumold presses and wardrobes. At that glass the wife has sat many timesthese fifty years; in that old morocco bed her children were born. Whereare they now? Fred the brave captain, and Charles the saucy colleger:there hangs a drawing of him done by Mr. Beechey, and that sketch byCosway was the very likeness of Louisa before--

"Mr. Fitz-Boodle! for Heaven's sake come down. What are you doing in alady's bedroom?"

"The fact is, madam, I had no business there in life; but, having hadquite enough wine with Sir George, my thoughts had wandered upstairsinto the sanctuary of female excellence, where your Ladyship nightlyreposes. You do not sleep so well now as in old days, though there is nopatter of little steps to wake you overhead. "

They call that room the nursery still, and the little wicket still hangsat the upper stairs: it has been there for forty years--bon Dieu! Can'tyou see the ghosts of little faces peering over it? I wonder whetherthey get up in the night as the moonlight shines into the blank vacantold room, and play there solemnly with little ghostly horses, and thespirits of dolls, and tops that turn and turn but don't hum. 

Once more, sir, come down to the lower storey--that is to the Morgianastory--with which the above sentences have no more to do than thismorning's leading article in The Times; only it was at this house ofSir George Thrum's that I met Morgiana. Sir George, in old days, hadinstructed some of the female members of our family, and I recollectcutting my fingers as a child with one of those attenuated green-handledknives in the queer box yonder. 

In those days Sir George Thrum was the first great musical teacherof London, and the royal patronage brought him a great number offashionable pupils, of whom Lady Fitz-Boodle was one. It was a long longtime ago: in fact, Sir George Thrum was old enough to remember personswho had been present at Mr. Braham's first appearance, and the oldgentleman's days of triumph had been those of Billington and Incledon, Catalani and Madame Storace. 

He was the author of several operas ("The Camel Driver, " "BritonsAlarmed; or, the Siege of Bergen-op-Zoom, " etc. Etc. ), and, of course, of songs which had considerable success in their day, but are forgottennow, and are as much faded and out of fashion as those old carpets whichwe have described in the professor's house, and which were, doubtless, very brilliant once. But such is the fate of carpets, of flowers, ofmusic, of men, and of the most admirable novels--even this story willnot be alive for many centuries. Well, well, why struggle against Fate?

But, though his heyday of fashion was gone, Sir George still held hisplace among the musicians of the old school, conducted occasionallyat the Ancient Concerts and the Philharmonic, and his glees arestill favourites after public dinners, and are sung by those oldbacchanalians, in chestnut wigs, who attend for the purpose of amusingthe guests on such occasions of festivity. The great old people atthe gloomy old concerts before mentioned always pay Sir George markedrespect; and, indeed, from the old gentleman's peculiar behaviour to hissuperiors, it is impossible they should not be delighted with him, so heleads at almost every one of the concerts in the old-fashioned houses intown. 

Becomingly obsequious to his superiors, he is with the rest of the worldproperly majestic, and has obtained no small success by his admirableand undeviating respectability. Respectability has been his great cardthrough life; ladies can trust their daughters at Sir George Thrum'sacademy. "A good musician, madam, " says he to the mother of a new pupil, "should not only have a fine ear, a good voice, and an indomitableindustry, but, above all, a faultless character--faultless, that is, asfar as our poor nature will permit. And you will remark that those youngpersons with whom your lovely daughter, Miss Smith, will pursue hermusical studies, are all, in a moral point of view, as spotless as thatcharming young lady. How should it be otherwise? I have been myself thefather of a family; I have been honoured with the intimacy of the wisestand best of kings, my late sovereign George III. , and I can proudly showan example of decorum to my pupils in my Sophia. Mrs. Smith, I have thehonour of introducing to you my Lady Thrum. "

The old lady would rise at this, and make a gigantic curtsey, such aone as had begun the minuet at Ranelagh fifty years ago; and, theintroduction ended, Mrs. Smith would retire, after having seen theportraits of the princes, his late Majesty's snuff-box, and a piece ofmusic which he used to play, noted by himself--Mrs. Smith, I say, woulddrive back to Baker Street, delighted to think that her Frederica hadsecured so eligible and respectable a master. I forgot to say that, during the interview between Mrs. Smith and Sir George, the latter wouldbe called out of his study by his black servant, and my Lady Thrum wouldtake that opportunity of mentioning when he was knighted, and how hegot his foreign order, and deploring the sad condition of OTHER musicalprofessors, and the dreadful immorality which sometimes arose inconsequence of their laxness. Sir George was a good deal engaged todinners in the season, and if invited to dine with a nobleman, as hemight possibly be on the day when Mrs. Smith requested the honour ofhis company, he would write back "that he should have had the sinceresthappiness in waiting upon Mrs. Smith in Baker Street, if, previously, myLord Tweedledale had not been so kind as to engage him. " This letter, of course, shown by Mrs. Smith to her friends, was received by them withproper respect; and thus, in spite of age and new fashions, Sir Georgestill reigned pre-eminent for a mile round Cavendish Square. By theyoung pupils of the academy he was called Sir Charles Grandison;and, indeed, fully deserved this title on account of the indomitablerespectability of his whole actions. 

It was under this gentleman that Morgiana made her debut in public life. I do not know what arrangements may have been made between Sir GeorgeThrum and his pupil regarding the profits which were to accrue to theformer from engagements procured by him for the latter; but there was, no doubt, an understanding between them. For Sir George, respectable ashe was, had the reputation of being extremely clever at a bargain; andLady Thrum herself, in her great high-tragedy way, could purchase a pairof soles or select a leg of mutton with the best housekeeper in London. 

When, however, Morgiana had been for some six months under his tuition, he began, for some reason or other, to be exceedingly hospitable, andinvited his friends to numerous entertainments: at one of which, as Ihave said, I had the pleasure of meeting Mrs. Walker. 

Although the worthy musician's dinners were not good, the old knighthad some excellent wine in his cellar, and his arrangement of his partydeserves to be commended. 

For instance, he meets me and Bob Fitz-Urse in Pall Mall, at whosepaternal house he was also a visitor. "My dear young gentlemen, " sayshe, "will you come and dine with a poor musical composer? I have someComet hock, and, what is more curious to you, perhaps, as men of wit, one or two of the great literary characters of London whom you wouldlike to see--quite curiosities, my dear young friends. " And we agreed togo. 

To the literary men he says: "I have a little quiet party at home: LordRoundtowers, the Honourable Mr. Fitz-Urse of the Life Guards, and a fewmore. Can you tear yourself away from the war of wits, and take a quietdinner with a few mere men about town?"

The literary men instantly purchase new satin stocks and white gloves, and are delighted to fancy themselves members of the world of fashion. Instead of inviting twelve Royal Academicians, or a dozen authors, ora dozen men of science to dinner, as his Grace the Duke of ---- and theRight Honourable Sir Robert ---- are in the habit of doing once ayear, this plan of fusion is the one they should adopt. Not invite allartists, as they would invite all farmers to a rent dinner; but theyshould have a proper commingling of artists and men of the world. Thereis one of the latter whose name is George Savage Fitz-Boodle, who-- Butlet us return to Sir George Thrum. 

Fitz-Urse and I arrive at the dismal old house, and are conducted up thestaircase by a black servant, who shouts out, "Missa Fiss-Boodle--theHONOURABLE Missa Fiss-Urse!" It was evident that Lady Thrum hadinstructed the swarthy groom of the chambers (for there is nothingparticularly honourable in my friend Fitz's face that I know of, unlessan abominable squint may be said to be so). Lady Thrum, whose figure issomething like that of the shot-tower opposite Waterloo Bridge, makes amajestic inclination and a speech to signify her pleasure at receivingunder her roof two of the children of Sir George's best pupils. Alady in black velvet is seated by the old fireplace, with whom a stoutgentleman in an exceedingly light coat and ornamental waistcoat istalking very busily. "The great star of the night, " whispers our host. "Mrs. Walker, gentlemen--the RAVENSWING! She is talking to the famousMr. Slang, of the ---- Theatre. "

"Is she a fine singer?" says Fitz-Urse. "She's a very fine woman. "

"My dear young friends, you shall hear to-night! I, who have heard everyfine voice in Europe, confidently pledge my respectability that theRavenswing is equal to them all. She has the graces, sir, of a Venuswith the mind of a Muse. She is a siren, sir, without the dangerousqualities of one. She is hallowed, sir, by her misfortunes as by hergenius; and I am proud to think that my instructions have been the meansof developing the wondrous qualities that were latent within her untilnow. "

"You don't say so!" says gobemouche Fitz-Urse. 

Having thus indoctrinated Mr. Fitz-Urse, Sir George takes another of hisguests, and proceeds to work upon him. "My dear Mr. Bludyer, how do youdo? Mr. Fitz-Boodle, Mr. Bludyer, the brilliant and accomplishedwit, whose sallies in the Tomahawk delight us every Saturday. Nay, noblushes, my dear sir; you are very wicked, but oh! SO pleasant. Well, Mr. Bludyer, I am glad to see you, sir, and hope you will havea favourable opinion of our genius, sir. As I was saying to Mr. Fitz-Boodle, she has the graces of a Venus with the mind of a Muse. Sheis a siren, without the dangerous qualities of one, " etc. Thislittle speech was made to half-a-dozen persons in the course of theevening--persons, for the most part, connected with the public journalsor the theatrical world. There was Mr. Squinny, the editor of theFlowers of Fashion; Mr. Desmond Mulligan, the poet, and reporter fora morning paper; and other worthies of their calling. For thoughSir George is a respectable man, and as high-minded and moral an oldgentleman as ever wore knee-buckles, he does not neglect the little artsof popularity, and can condescend to receive very queer company if needbe. 

For instance, at the dinner-party at which I had the honour ofassisting, and at which, on the right hand of Lady Thrum, sat the obligenobleman, whom the Thrums were a great deal too wise to omit (the sightof a lord does good to us commoners, or why else should we be so anxiousto have one?). In the second place of honour, and on her ladyship's lefthand, sat Mr. Slang, the manager of one of the theatres; a gentlemanwhom my Lady Thrum would scarcely, but for a great necessity's sake, have been induced to invite to her table. He had the honour of leadingMrs. Walker to dinner, who looked splendid in black velvet and turban, full of health and smiles. 

Lord Roundtowers is an old gentleman who has been at the theatres fivetimes a week for these fifty years, a living dictionary of the stage, recollecting every actor and actress who has appeared upon it for half acentury. He perfectly well remembered Miss Delancy in Morgiana; he knewwhat had become of Ali Baba, and how Cassim had left the stage, and wasnow the keeper of a public-house. All this store of knowledge hekept quietly to himself, or only delivered in confidence to his nextneighbour in the intervals of the banquet, which he enjoys prodigiously. He lives at an hotel: if not invited to dine, eats a mutton-chopvery humbly at his club, and finishes his evening after the play atCrockford's, whither he goes not for the sake of the play, but of thesupper there. He is described in the Court Guide as of "Simmer's Hotel, "and of Roundtowers, county Cork. It is said that the round towers reallyexist. But he has not been in Ireland since the rebellion; and hisproperty is so hampered with ancestral mortgages, and rent-charges, andannuities, that his income is barely sufficient to provide the modestmutton-chop before alluded to. He has, any time these fifty years, livedin the wickedest company in London, and is, withal, as harmless, mild, good-natured, innocent an old gentleman as can readily be seen. 

"Roundy, " shouts the elegant Mr. Slang, across the table, with a voicewhich makes Lady Thrum shudder, "Tuff, a glass of wine. "

My Lord replies meekly, "Mr. Slang, I shall have very much pleasure. What shall it be?"

"There is Madeira near you, my Lord, " says my Lady, pointing to a tallthin decanter of the fashion of the year. 

"Madeira! Marsala, by Jove, your Ladyship means!" shouts Mr. Slang. "No, no, old birds are not caught with chaff. Thrum, old boy, let's have someof your Comet hock. "

"My Lady Thrum, I believe that IS Marsala, " says the knight, blushing alittle, in reply to a question from his Sophia. "Ajax, the hock to Mr. Slang. "

"I'm in that, " yells Bludyer from the end of the table. "My Lord, I'lljoin you. "

"Mr. ----, I beg your pardon--I shall be very happy to take wine withyou, sir. "

"It is Mr. Bludyer, the celebrated newspaper writer, " whispers LadyThrum. 

"Bludyer, Bludyer? A very clever man, I dare say. He has a very loudvoice, and reminds me of Brett. Does your Ladyship remember Brett, whoplayed the 'Fathers' at the Haymarket in 1802?"

"What an old stupid Roundtowers is!" says Slang, archly, nudging Mrs. Walker in the side. "How's Walker, eh?"

"My husband is in the country, " replied Mrs. Walker, hesitatingly. 

"Gammon! _I_ know where he is! Law bless you!--don't blush. I've beenthere myself a dozen times. We were talking about quod, Lady Thrum. Wereyou ever in college?"

"I was at the Commemoration at Oxford in 1814, when the sovereigns werethere, and at Cambridge when Sir George received his degree of Doctor ofMusic. "

"Laud, Laud, THAT'S not the college WE mean. "

"There is also the college in Gower Street, where my grandson--"

"This is the college in QUEER STREET, ma'am, haw, haw! Mulligan, youdivvle (in an Irish accent), a glass of wine with you. Wine, here, youwaiter! What's your name, you black nigger? 'Possum up a gum-tree, eh?Fill him up. Dere he go" (imitating the Mandingo manner of speakingEnglish)

In this agreeable way would Mr. Slang rattle on, speedily making himselfthe centre of the conversation, and addressing graceful familiarities toall the gentlemen and ladies round him. 

It was good to see how the little knight, the most moral and calm ofmen, was compelled to receive Mr. Slang's stories and the frightened airwith which, at the conclusion of one of them, he would venture upona commendatory grin. His lady, on her part too, had been laboriouslycivil; and, on the occasion on which I had the honour of meeting thisgentleman and Mrs. Walker, it was the latter who gave the signal forwithdrawing to the lady of the house, by saying, "I think, Lady Thrum, it is quite time for us to retire. " Some exquisite joke of Mr. Slang'swas the cause of this abrupt disappearance. But, as they went upstairsto the drawing-room, Lady Thrum took occasion to say, "My dear, inthe course of your profession you will have to submit to many suchfamiliarities on the part of persons of low breeding, such as I fear Mr. Slang is. But let me caution you against giving way to your temperas you did. Did you not perceive that _I_ never allowed him to see myinward dissatisfaction? And I make it a particular point that you shouldbe very civil to him to-night. Your interests--our interests depend uponit. "

"And are my interests to make me civil to a wretch like that?"

"Mrs. Walker, would you wish to give lessons in morality and behaviourto Lady Thrum?" said the old lady, drawing herself up with greatdignity. It was evident that she had a very strong desire indeed toconciliate Mr. Slang; and hence I have no doubt that Sir George was tohave a considerable share of Morgiana's earnings. 

Mr. Bludyer, the famous editor of the Tomahawk, whose jokes Sir Georgepretended to admire so much (Sir George who never made a joke in hislife), was a press bravo of considerable talent and no principle, andwho, to use his own words, would "back himself for a slashing articleagainst any man in England!" He would not only write, but fight on apinch; was a good scholar, and as savage in his manner as with hispen. Mr. Squinny is of exactly the opposite school, as delicate asmilk-and-water, harmless in his habits, fond of the flute when the stateof his chest will allow him, a great practiser of waltzing and dancingin general, and in his journal mildly malicious. He never goes beyondthe bounds of politeness, but manages to insinuate a great deal that isdisagreeable to an author in the course of twenty lines of criticism. Personally he is quite respectable, and lives with two maiden aunts atBrompton. Nobody, on the contrary, knows where Mr. Bludyer lives. He hashouses of call, mysterious taverns, where he may be found at particularhours by those who need him, and where panting publishers are in thehabit of hunting him up. For a bottle of wine and a guinea he will writea page of praise or abuse of any man living, or on any subject, or onany line of politics. "Hang it, sir!" says he, "pay me enough and I willwrite down my own father!" According to the state of his credit, heis dressed either almost in rags or else in the extremest flush of thefashion. With the latter attire he puts on a haughty and aristocraticair, and would slap a duke on the shoulder. If there is one thing moredangerous than to refuse to lend him a sum of money when he asks for it, it is to lend it to him; for he never pays, and never pardons a man towhom he owes. "Walker refused to cash a bill for me, " he had been heardto say, "and I'll do for his wife when she comes out on the stage!" Mrs. Walker and Sir George Thrum were in an agony about the Tomahawk; hencethe latter's invitation to Mr. Bludyer. Sir George was in a great tremorabout the Flowers of Fashion, hence his invitation to Mr. Squinny. Mr. Squinny was introduced to Lord Roundtowers and Mr. Fitz-Urse as one ofthe most delightful and talented of our young men of genius; and Fitz, who believes everything anyone tells him, was quite pleased to havethe honour of sitting near the live editor of a paper. I have reason tothink that Mr. Squinny himself was no less delighted: I saw him givinghis card to Fitz-Urse at the end of the second course. 

No particular attention was paid to Mr. Desmond Mulligan. Politicalenthusiasm is his forte. He lives and writes in a rapture. He is, of course, a member of an inn of court, and greatly addicted toafter-dinner speaking as a preparation for the bar, where as a young manof genius he hopes one day to shine. He is almost the only man to whomBludyer is civil; for, if the latter will fight doggedly when there isa necessity for so doing, the former fights like an Irishman, and has apleasure in it. He has been "on the ground" I don't know how manytimes, and quitted his country on account of a quarrel with Governmentregarding certain articles published by him in the Phoenix newspaper. With the third bottle, he becomes overpoweringly great on the wrongsof Ireland, and at that period generally volunteers a couple or more ofIrish melodies, selecting the most melancholy in the collection. At fivein the afternoon, you are sure to see him about the House of Commons, and he knows the "Reform Club" (he calls it the Refawrum) as well as ifhe were a member. It is curious for the contemplative mind to mark thosemysterious hangers-on of Irish members of Parliament--strange runnersand aides-de-camp which all the honourable gentlemen appear to possess. Desmond, in his political capacity, is one of these, and besides hiscalling as reporter to a newspaper, is "our well-informed correspondent"of that famous Munster paper, the Green Flag of Skibbereen. 

With Mr. Mulligan's qualities and history I only became subsequentlyacquainted. On the present evening he made but a brief stay at thedinner-table, being compelled by his professional duties to attend theHouse of Commons. 

The above formed the party with whom I had the honour to dine. Whatother repasts Sir George Thrum may have given, what assemblies of menof mere science he may have invited to give their opinion regarding hisprodigy, what other editors of papers he may have pacified or renderedfavourable, who knows? On the present occasion, we did not quit thedinner-table until Mr. Slang the manager was considerably excitedby wine, and music had been heard for some time in the drawing-roomoverhead during our absence. An addition had been made to the Thrumparty by the arrival of several persons to spend the evening, --a man toplay on the violin between the singing, a youth to play on the piano, Miss Horsman to sing with Mrs. Walker, and other scientific characters. In a corner sat a red-faced old lady, of whom the mistress of themansion took little notice; and a gentleman with a royal button, whoblushed and looked exceedingly modest. 

"Hang me!" says Mr. Bludyer, who had perfectly good reasons forrecognising Mr Woolsey, and who on this day chose to assume hisaristocratic air; "there's a tailor in the room! What do they mean byasking ME to meet tradesmen?"

"Delancy, my dear, " cries Slang, entering the room with a reel, "how'syour precious health? Give us your hand! When ARE we to be married? Makeroom for me on the sofa, that's a duck!"

"Get along, Slang, " says Mrs. Crump, addressed by the manager by hermaiden name (artists generally drop the title of honour which peopleadopt in the world, and call each other by their simple surnames)--"getalong, Slang, or I'll tell Mrs. S. !" The enterprising manager replies bysportively striking Mrs. Crump on the side a blow which causes a greatgiggle from the lady insulted, and a most good-humoured threat to boxSlang's ears. I fear very much that Morgiana's mother thought Mr. Slangan exceedingly gentlemanlike and agreeable person; besides, she waseager to have his good opinion of Mrs. Walker's singing. 

The manager stretched himself out with much gracefulness on the sofa, supporting two little dumpy legs encased in varnished boots on a chair. 

"Ajax, some tea to Mr. Slang, " said my Lady, looking towards thatgentleman with a countenance expressive of some alarm, I thought. 

"That's right, Ajax, my black prince!" exclaimed Slang when the negrobrought the required refreshment; "and now I suppose you'll be wanted inthe orchestra yonder. Don't Ajax play the cymbals, Sir George?"

"Ha, ha, ha! very good--capital!" answered the knight, exceedinglyfrightened; "but ours is not a MILITARY band. Miss Horsman, Mr. Craw, my dear Mrs. Ravenswing, shall we begin the trio? Silence, gentlemen, ifyou please; it is a little piece from my opera of the 'Brigand's Bride. 'Miss Horsman takes the Page's part, Mr. Craw is Stiletto the Brigand, myaccomplished pupil is the Bride;" and the music began. 

 "THE BRIDE. 

 "My heart with joy is beating, My eyes with tears are dim;

 "THE PAGE. 

 "Her heart with joy is beating Her eyes are fixed on him;

 "THE BRIGAND. 

 "My heart with rage is beating, In blood my eye-balls swim!"

What may have been the merits of the music or the singing, I, of course, cannot guess. Lady Thrum sat opposite the tea-cups, nodding her headand beating time very gravely. Lord Roundtowers, by her side, nodded hishead too, for awhile, and then fell asleep. I should have done the samebut for the manager, whose actions were worth of remark. He sang withall the three singers, and a great deal louder than any of them; heshouted bravo! or hissed as he thought proper; he criticised all thepoints of Mrs. Walker's person. "She'll do, Crump, she'll do--a splendidarm--you'll see her eyes in the shilling gallery! What sort of afoot has she? She's five feet three, if she's an inch! Bravo--slapup--capital--hurrah!" And he concluded by saying, with the aid of theRavenswing, he would put Ligonier's nose out of Joint!

The enthusiasm of Mr. Slang almost reconciled Lady Thrum to theabruptness of his manners, and even caused Sir George to forget thathis chorus had been interrupted by the obstreperous familiarity of themanager. 

"And what do YOU think, Mr. Bludyer, " said the tailor, delighted thathis protegee should be thus winning all hearts: "isn't Mrs. Walker atip-top singer, eh, sir?"

"I think she's a very bad one, Mr. Woolsey, " said the illustriousauthor, wishing to abbreviate all communications with a tailor to whomhe owed forty pounds. 

"Then, sir, " says Mr. Woolsey, fiercely, "I'll--I'll thank you to pay memy little bill!"

It is true there was no connection between Mrs. Walker's singing andWoolsey's little bill; that the "THEN, sir, " was perfectly illogical onWoolsey's part; but it was a very happy hit for the future fortunes ofMrs. Walker. Who knows what would have come of her debut but for that"Then, sir, " and whether a "smashing article" from the Tomahawk mightnot have ruined her for ever?

"Are you a relation of Mrs. Walker's?" said Mr. Bludyer, in reply to theangry tailor. 

"What's that to you, whether I am or not?" replied Woolsey, fiercely. "But I'm the friend of Mrs. Walker, sir; proud am I to say so, sir; and, as the poet says, sir, 'a little learning's a dangerous thing, ' sir;and I think a man who don't pay his bills may keep his tongue quiet atleast, sir, and not abuse a lady, sir, whom everybody else praises, sir. You shan't humbug ME any more, sir; you shall hear from my attorneyto-morrow, so mark that!"

"Hush, my dear Mr. Woolsey, " cried the literary man, "don't make anoise; come into this window: is Mrs. Walker REALLY a friend of yours?"

"I've told you so, sir. "

"Well, in that case, I shall do my utmost to serve her and, look you, Woolsey, any article you choose to send about her to the Tomahawk Ipromise you I'll put in. "

"WILL you, though? then we'll say nothing about the little bill. "

"You may do on that point, " answered Bludyer, haughtily, "exactly asyou please. I am not to be frightened from my duty, mind that; and mind, too, that I can write a slashing article better than any man in England:I could crush her by ten lines. "

The tables were now turned, and it was Woolsey's turn to be alarmed. 

"Pooh! pooh! I WAS angry, " said he, "because you abuse Mrs. Walker, who's an angel on earth; but I'm very willing to apologise. Isay--come--let me take your measure for some new clothes, eh! Mr. B. ?"

"I'll come to your shop, " answered the literary man, quite appeased. "Silence! they're beginning another song. "

The songs, which I don't attempt to describe (and, upon my word andhonour, as far as I can understand matters, I believe to this day thatMrs. Walker was only an ordinary singer)--the songs lasted a great deallonger than I liked; but I was nailed, as it were, to the spot, havingagreed to sup at Knightsbridge barracks with Fitz-Urse, whose carriagewas ordered at eleven o'clock. 

"My dear Mr. Fitz-Boodle, " said our old host to me, "you can do me thegreatest service in the world. "

"Speak, sir!" said I. 

"Will you ask your honourable and gallant friend, the Captain, to drivehome Mr. Squinny to Brompton?"

"Can't Mr. Squinny get a cab?"

Sir George looked particularly arch. "Generalship, my dear youngfriend--a little harmless generalship. Mr. Squinny will not give muchfor MY opinion of my pupil, but he will value very highly the opinion ofthe Honourable Mr. FitzUrse. "

For a moral man, was not the little knight a clever fellow? He hadbought Mr. Squinny for a dinner worth ten shillings, and for a ride ina carriage with a lord's son. Squinny was carried to Brompton, and setdown at his aunts' door, delighted with his new friends, and exceedinglysick with a cigar they had made him smoke. 

CHAPTER VIII. IN WHICH MR. WALKER SHOWS GREAT PRUDENCE AND FORBEARANCE. 

The describing of all these persons does not advance Morgiana's storymuch. But, perhaps, some country readers are not acquainted with theclass of persons by whose printed opinions they are guided, and aresimple enough to imagine that mere merit will make a reputation on thestage or elsewhere. The making of a theatrical success is a much morecomplicated and curious thing than such persons fancy it to be. Immenseare the pains taken to get a good word from Mr. This of the Star, or Mr. That of the Courier, to propitiate the favour of the critic of the day, and get the editors of the metropolis into a good humour, --above all, tohave the name of the person to be puffed perpetually before the public. Artists cannot be advertised like Macassar oil or blacking, and theywant it to the full as much; hence endless ingenuity must be practisedin order to keep the popular attention awake. Suppose a great actormoves from London to Windsor, the Brentford Champion must state that"Yesterday Mr. Blazes and suite passed rapidly through our city; thecelebrated comedian is engaged, we hear, at Windsor, to give some of hisinimitable readings of our great national bard to the MOST ILLUSTRIOUSAUDIENCE in the realm. " This piece of intelligence the HammersmithObserver will question the next week, as thus:--"A contemporary, theBrentford Champion, says that Blazes is engaged to give Shakspearianreadings at Windsor to "the most illustrious audience in the realm. " Wequestion this fact very much. We would, indeed, that it were true; butthe MOST ILLUSTRIOUS AUDIENCE in the realm prefer FOREIGN melodies toTHE NATIVE WOOD-NOTES WILD of the sweet song-bird of Avon. Mr. Blazesis simply gone to Eton, where his son, Master Massinger Blazes, issuffering, we regret to hear, under a severe attack of the chicken-pox. This complaint (incident to youth) has raged, we understand, withfrightful virulence in Eton School. "

And if, after the above paragraphs, some London paper chooses to attackthe folly of the provincial press, which talks of Mr. Blazes, andchronicles his movements, as if he were a crowned head, what harm isdone? Blazes can write in his own name to the London journal, and saythat it is not HIS fault if provincial journals choose to chroniclehis movements, and that he was far from wishing that the afflictions ofthose who are dear to him should form the subject of public comment, and be held up to public ridicule. "We had no intention of hurting thefeelings of an estimable public servant, " writes the editor; "and ourremarks on the chicken-pox were general, not personal. We sincerelytrust that Master Massinger Blazes has recovered from that complaint, and that he may pass through the measles, the whooping-cough, the fourthform, and all other diseases to which youth is subject, with comfort tohimself, and credit to his parents and teachers. " At his next appearanceon the stage after this controversy, a British public calls for Blazesthree times after the play; and somehow there is sure to be someone witha laurel-wreath in a stage-box, who flings that chaplet at the inspiredartist's feet. 

I don't know how it was, but before the debut of Morgiana, the Englishpress began to heave and throb in a convulsive manner, as if indicativeof the near birth of some great thing. For instance, you read in onepaper, --

"Anecdote of Karl Maria Von Weber. --When the author of 'Oberon' was inEngland, he was invited by a noble duke to dinner, and some of the mostcelebrated of our artists were assembled to meet him. The signal beinggiven to descend to the salle-a-manger, the German composer was invitedby his noble host (a bachelor) to lead the way. 'Is it not the fashionin your country, ' said he, simply, 'for the man of the first eminence totake the first place? Here is one whose genius entitles him to be firstANYWHERE. ' And, so saying, he pointed to our admirable English composer, Sir George Thrum. The two musicians were friends to the last, and SirGeorge has still the identical piece of rosin which the author of the'Freischutz' gave him. "--The Moon (morning paper), June 2. 

"George III. A composer. --Sir George Thrum has in his possession thescore of an air, the words from 'Samson Agonistes, ' an autograph of thelate revered monarch. We hear that that excellent composer has in storefor us not only an opera, but a pupil, with whose transcendent meritsthe elite of our aristocracy are already familiar. "--Ibid. , June 5. 

"Music with a Vengeance. --The march to the sound of which the 49th and75th regiments rushed up the breach of Badajoz was the celebrated airfrom 'Britons Alarmed; or, The Siege of Bergen-op-Zoom, ' by our famousEnglish composer, Sir George Thrum. Marshal Davoust said that theFrench line never stood when that air was performed to the charge of thebayonet. We hear the veteran musician has an opera now about toappear, and have no doubt that Old England will now, as then, show itssuperiority over ALL foreign opponents. "--Albion. 

"We have been accused of preferring the produit of the etranger to thetalent of our own native shores; but those who speak so, little knowus. We are fanatici per la musica wherever it be, and welcome merit danschaque pays du monde. What do we say? Le merite n'a point de pays, asNapoleon said; and Sir George Thrum (Chevalier de l'Ordre de l'Elephantet Chateau de Kalbsbraten-Pumpernickel, ) is a maestro whose fameappartient a l'Europe. 

"We have just heard the lovely eleve, whose rare qualities the Cavalierehas brought to perfection, --we have heard THE RAVENSWING (pourquoicacher un nom que demain un monde va saluer?), and a creature morebeautiful and gifted never bloomed before dans nos climats. She sangthe delicious duet of the 'Nabucodonosore, ' with Count Pizzicato, witha bellezza, a grandezza, a raggio, that excited in the bosom of theaudience a corresponding furore: her scherzando was exquisite, though weconfess we thought the concluding fioritura in the passage in Y flat aleetle, a very leetle sforzata. Surely the words, 'Giorno d'orrore, Delire, dolore, Nabucodonosore, '

should be given andante, and not con strepito: but this is a faute bienlegere in the midst of such unrivalled excellence, and only mentionedhere that we may have SOMETHING to criticise. 

"We hear that the enterprising impresario of one of the royal theatreshas made an engagement with the Diva; and, if we have a regret, it isthat she should be compelled to sing in the unfortunate language of ourrude northern clime, which does not preter itself near so well to thebocca of the cantatrice as do the mellifluous accents of the LinguaToscana, the langue par excellence of song. 

"The Ravenswing's voice is a magnificent contra-basso of nine octaves, "etc. --Flowers of Fashion, June 10. 

"Old Thrum, the composer, is bringing out an opera and a pupil. Theopera is good, the pupil first-rate. The opera will do much more thancompete with the infernal twaddle and disgusting slip-slop of Donizetti, and the milk-and-water fools who imitate him: it will (and we ask thereaders of the Tomahawk, were we EVER mistaken?) surpass all these; itis GOOD, of downright English stuff. The airs are fresh and pleasing, the choruses large and noble, the instrumentation solid and rich, themusic is carefully written. We wish old Thrum and his opera well. 

"His pupil is a SURE CARD, a splendid woman, and a splendid singer. Sheis so handsome that she might sing as much out of tune as Miss Ligonier, and the public would forgive her; and sings so well, that were she asugly as the aforesaid Ligonier, the audience would listen to her. TheRavenswing, that is her fantastical theatrical name (her real name isthe same with that of a notorious scoundrel in the Fleet, who inventedthe Panama swindle, the Pontine Marshes' swindle, the Soap swindle--HOWARE YOU OFF FOR SOAP NOW, Mr. W-lk-r?)--the Ravenswing, we say, will do. Slang has engaged her at thirty guineas per week, and she appears nextmonth in Thrum's opera, of which the words are written by a great asswith some talent--we mean Mr. Mulligan. 

"There is a foreign fool in the Flowers of Fashion who is doing his bestto disgust the public by his filthy flattery. It is enough to makeone sick. Why is the foreign beast not kicked out of the paper?"--TheTomahawk, June 17. 

The first three "anecdotes" were supplied by Mulligan to his paper, with many others which need not here be repeated: he kept them upwith amazing energy and variety. Anecdotes of Sir George Thrum met youunexpectedly in queer corners of country papers: puffs of the Englishschool of music appeared perpetually in "Notices to Correspondents" inthe Sunday prints, some of which Mr. Slang commanded, and in others overwhich the indefatigable Mulligan had a control. This youth was the soulof the little conspiracy for raising Morgiana into fame: and humble ashe is, and great and respectable as is Sir George Thrum, it is my beliefthat the Ravenswing would never have been the Ravenswing she is but forthe ingenuity and energy of the honest Hibernian reporter. 

It is only the business of the great man who writes the leading articleswhich appear in the large type of the daily papers to compose thoseastonishing pieces of eloquence; the other parts of the paper areleft to the ingenuity of the sub-editor, whose duty it is to selectparagraphs, reject or receive horrid accidents, police reports, etc. ; with which, occupied as he is in the exercise of his tremendousfunctions, the editor himself cannot be expected to meddle. The fateof Europe is his province; the rise and fall of empires, and the greatquestions of State demand the editor's attention: the humble puff, the paragraph about the last murder, or the state of the crops, or thesewers in Chancery Lane, is confided to the care of the sub; and itis curious to see what a prodigious number of Irishmen exist among thesub-editors of London. When the Liberator enumerates the services of hiscountrymen, how the battle of Fontenoy was won by the Irish Brigade, howthe battle of Waterloo would have been lost but for the Irish regiments, and enumerates other acts for which we are indebted to Milesian heroismand genius--he ought at least to mention the Irish brigade of the press, and the amazing services they do to this country. 

The truth is, the Irish reporters and soldiers appear to do their dutyright well; and my friend Mr. Mulligan is one of the former. Having theinterests of his opera and the Ravenswing strongly at heart, and beingamongst his brethren an exceedingly popular fellow, he managed mattersso that never a day passed but some paragraph appeared somewhereregarding the new singer, in whom, for their countryman's sake, all hisbrothers and sub-editors felt an interest. 

These puffs, destined to make known to all the world the merits ofthe Ravenswing, of course had an effect upon a gentleman very closelyconnected with that lady, the respectable prisoner in the Fleet, CaptainWalker. As long as he received his weekly two guineas from Mr. Woolsey, and the occasional half-crowns which his wife could spare in her almostdaily visits to him, he had never troubled himself to inquire what herpursuits were, and had allowed her (though the worthy woman longed withall her might to betray herself) to keep her secret. He was far fromthinking, indeed, that his wife would prove such a treasure to him. 

But when the voice of fame and the columns of the public journalsbrought him each day some new story regarding the merits, genius, andbeauty of the Ravenswing; when rumours reached him that she was thefavourite pupil of Sir George Thrum; when she brought him five guineasafter singing at the "Philharmonic" (other five the good soul had spentin purchasing some smart new cockades, hats, cloaks, and laces, for herlittle son); when, finally, it was said that Slang, the great manager, offered her an engagement at thirty guineas per week, Mr. Walker becameexceedingly interested in his wife's proceedings, of which he demandedfrom her the fullest explanation. 

Using his marital authority, he absolutely forbade Mrs. Walker'sappearance on the public stage; he wrote to Sir George Thrum a letterexpressive of his highest indignation that negotiations so importantshould ever have been commenced without his authorisation; and he wroteto his dear Slang (for these gentlemen were very intimate, and in thecourse of his transactions as an agent Mr. W. Had had many dealingswith Mr. S. ) asking his dear Slang whether the latter thought his friendWalker would be so green as to allow his wife to appear on the stage, and he remain in prison with all his debts on his head?

And it was a curious thing now to behold how eager those very creditorswho but yesterday (and with perfect correctness) had denounced Mr. Walker as a swindler; who had refused to come to any composition withhim, and had sworn never to release him; how they on a sudden becamequite eager to come to an arrangement with him, and offered, nay, beggedand prayed him to go free, --only giving them his own and Mrs. Walker'sacknowledgment of their debt, with a promise that a part of the lady'ssalary should be devoted to the payment of the claim. 

"The lady's salary!" said Mr. Walker, indignantly, to these gentlemenand their attorneys. "Do you suppose I will allow Mrs. Walker to go onthe stage?--do you suppose I am such a fool as to sign bills to the fullamount of these claims against me, when in a few months more I can walkout of prison without paying a shilling? Gentlemen, you take HowardWalker for an idiot. I like the Fleet, and rather than pay I'll stayhere for these ten years. "

In other words, it was the Captain's determination to make someadvantageous bargain for himself with his creditors and the gentlemenwho were interested in bringing forward Mrs. Walker on the stage. Andwho can say that in so determining he did not act with laudable prudenceand justice?

"You do not, surely, consider, my very dear sir, that half the amount ofMrs. Walker's salaries is too much for my immense trouble and pains inteaching her?" cried Sir George Thrum (who, in reply to Walker's note, thought it most prudent to wait personally on that gentleman). "Rememberthat I am the first master in England; that I have the best interest inEngland; that I can bring her out at the Palace, and at every concertand musical festival in England; that I am obliged to teach her everysingle note that she utters; and that without me she could no more singa song than her little baby could walk without its nurse. "

"I believe about half what you say, " said Mr. Walker. 

"My dear Captain Walker! would you question my integrity? Who was itthat made Mrs. Millington's fortune, --the celebrated Mrs. Millington, who has now got a hundred thousand pounds? Who was it that brought outthe finest tenor in Europe, Poppleton? Ask the musical world, askthose great artists themselves, and they will tell you they owe theirreputation, their fortune, to Sir George Thrum. "

"It is very likely, " replied the Captain, coolly. "You ARE a goodmaster, I dare say, Sir George; but I am not going to article Mrs. Walker to you for three years, and sign her articles in the Fleet. Mrs. Walker shan't sing till I'm a free man, that's flat: if I stay here tillyou're dead she shan't. "

"Gracious powers, sir!" exclaimed Sir George, "do you expect me to payyour debts?"

"Yes, old boy, " answered the Captain, "and to give me something handsomein hand, too; and that's my ultimatum: and so I wish you good morning, for I'm engaged to play a match at tennis below. "

This little interview exceedingly frightened the worthy knight, whowent home to his lady in a delirious state of alarm occasioned by theaudacity of Captain Walker. 

Mr. Slang's interview with him was scarcely more satisfactory. Heowed, he said, four thousand pounds. His creditors might be brought tocompound for five shillings in the pound. He would not consent to allowhis wife to make a single engagement until the creditors were satisfied, and until he had a handsome sum in hand to begin the world with. "Unlessmy wife comes out, you'll be in the Gazette yourself, you know you will. So you may take her or leave her, as you think fit. "

"Let her sing one night as a trial, " said Mr. Slang. 

"If she sings one night, the creditors will want their money in full, "replied the Captain. "I shan't let her labour, poor thing, for theprofit of those scoundrels!" added the prisoner, with much feeling. AndSlang left him with a much greater respect for Walker than he had everbefore possessed. He was struck with the gallantry of the man who couldtriumph over misfortunes, nay, make misfortune itself an engine of goodluck. 

Mrs. Walker was instructed instantly to have a severe sore throat. Thejournals in Mr. Slang's interest deplored this illness pathetically;while the papers in the interest of the opposition theatre magnified itwith great malice. "The new singer, " said one, "the great wonder whichSlang promised us, is as hoarse as a RAVEN!" "Doctor Thorax pronounces, "wrote another paper, "that the quinsy, which has suddenly prostratedMrs. Ravenswing, whose singing at the Philharmonic, previous to herappearance at the 'T. R----, ' excited so much applause, has destroyed thelady's voice for ever. We luckily need no other prima donna, when thatplace, as nightly thousands acknowledge, is held by Miss Ligonier. " TheLooker-on said, "That although some well-informed contemporaries haddeclared Mrs. W. Ravenswing's complaint to be a quinsy, others, onwhose authority they could equally rely, had pronounced it to be aconsumption. At all events, she was in an exceedingly dangerous state;from which, though we do not expect, we heartily trust she may recover. Opinions differ as to the merits of this lady, some saying that she wasaltogether inferior to Miss Ligonier, while other connoisseurs declarethe latter lady to be by no means so accomplished a person. This point, we fear, " continued the Looker-on, "can never now be settled; unless, which we fear is improbable, Mrs. Ravenswing should ever so far recoveras to be able to make her debut; and even then, the new singer willnot have a fair chance unless her voice and strength shall be fullyrestored. This information, which we have from exclusive resources, maybe relied on, " concluded the Looker-on, "as authentic. "

It was Mr. Walker himself, that artful and audacious Fleet prisoner, whoconcocted those very paragraphs against his wife's health which appearedin the journals of the Ligonier party. The partisans of that lady weredelighted, the creditors of Mr. Walker astounded, at reading them. Even Sir George Thrum was taken in, and came to the Fleet prison inconsiderable alarm. 

"Mum's the word, my good sir!" said Mr. Walker. "Now is the time to makearrangements with the creditors. "

Well, these arrangements were finally made. It does not matter how manyshillings in the pound satisfied the rapacious creditors of Morgiana'shusband. But it is certain that her voice returned to her all of asudden upon the Captain's release. The papers of the Mulligan factionagain trumpeted her perfections; the agreement with Mr. Slang wasconcluded; that with Sir George Thrum the great composer satisfactorilyarranged; and the new opera underlined in immense capitals in thebills, and put in rehearsal with immense expenditure on the part of thescene-painter and costumier. 

Need we tell with what triumphant success the "Brigand's Bride" wasreceived? All the Irish sub-editors the next morning took care to havesuch an account of it as made Miss Ligonier and Baroski die with envy. All the reporters who could spare time were in the boxes to supporttheir friend's work. All the journeymen tailors of the establishment ofLinsey, Woolsey, and Co. Had pit tickets given to them, and applaudedwith all their might. All Mr. Walker's friends of the "Regent Club"lined the side-boxes with white kid gloves; and in a little box bythemselves sat Mrs. Crump and Mr. Woolsey, a great deal too muchagitated to applaud--so agitated, that Woolsey even forgot to fling downthe bouquet he had brought for the Ravenswing. 

But there was no lack of those horticultural ornaments. The theatreservants wheeled away a wheelbarrow-full (which were flung on the stagethe next night over again); and Morgiana, blushing, panting, weeping, was led off by Mr. Poppleton, the eminent tenor, who had crowned herwith one of the most conspicuous of the chaplets. 

Here she flew to her husband, and flung her arms round his neck. He wasflirting behind the side-scenes with Mademoiselle Flicflac, who hadbeen dancing in the divertissement; and was probably the only man inthe theatre of those who witnessed the embrace that did not care for it. Even Slang was affected, and said with perfect sincerity that he wishedhe had been in Walker's place. The manager's fortune was made, at leastfor the season. He acknowledged so much to Walker, who took a week'ssalary for his wife in advance that very night. 

There was, as usual, a grand supper in the green-room. The terrible Mr. Bludyer appeared in a new coat of the well-known Woolsey cut, and thelittle tailor himself and Mrs. Crump were not the least happy of theparty. But when the Ravenswing took Woolsey's hand, and said she neverwould have been there but for him, Mr. Walker looked very grave, and hinted to her that she must not, in her position, encourage theattentions of persons in that rank of life. "I shall pay, " said he, proudly, "every farthing that is owing to Mr. Woolsey, and shall employhim for the future. But you understand, my love, that one cannot atone's own table receive one's own tailor. "

Slang proposed Morgiana's health in a tremendous speech, which elicitedcheers, and laughter, and sobs, such as only managers have the art ofdrawing from the theatrical gentlemen and ladies in their employ. Itwas observed, especially among the chorus-singers at the bottom of thetable, that their emotion was intense. They had a meeting the next dayand voted a piece of plate to Adolphus Slang, Esquire, for his eminentservices in the cause of the drama. 

Walker returned thanks for his lady. That was, he said, the proudestmoment of his life. He was proud to think that he had educated her forthe stage, happy to think that his sufferings had not been in vain, andthat his exertions in her behalf were crowned with full success. In hername and his own he thanked the company, and sat down, and was once moreparticularly attentive to Mademoiselle Flicflac. 

Then came an oration from Sir George Thrum, in reply to Slang's toastto HIM. It was very much to the same effect as the speech by Walker, the two gentlemen attributing to themselves individually the merit ofbringing out Mrs. Walker. He concluded by stating that he should alwayshold Mrs. Walker as the daughter of his heart, and to the last moment ofhis life should love and cherish her. It is certain that Sir George wasexceedingly elated that night, and would have been scolded by his ladyon his return home, but for the triumph of the evening. 

Mulligan's speech of thanks, as author of the "Brigand's Bride, " was, itmust be confessed, extremely tedious. It seemed there would be no endto it; when he got upon the subject of Ireland especially, which somehowwas found to be intimately connected with the interests of music and thetheatre. Even the choristers pooh-poohed this speech, coming though itdid from the successful author, whose songs of wine, love, and battle, they had been repeating that night. 

The "Brigand's Bride" ran for many nights. Its choruses were tuned onthe organs of the day. Morgiana's airs, "The Rose upon my Balcony"and the "Lightning on the Cataract" (recitative and scena) were oneverybody's lips, and brought so many guineas to Sir George Thrum thathe was encouraged to have his portrait engraved, which still may beseen in the music-shops. Not many persons, I believe, bought proofimpressions of the plate, price two guineas; whereas, on the contrary, all the young clerks in banks, and all the FAST young men of theuniversities, had pictures of the Ravenswing in their apartments--asBiondetta (the brigand's bride), as Zelyma (in the "Nuptials ofBenares"), as Barbareska (in the "Mine of Tobolsk"), and in all herfamous characters. In the latter she disguises herself as a Uhlan, inorder to save her father, who is in prison; and the Ravenswing looked sofascinating in this costume in pantaloons and yellow boots, that Slangwas for having her instantly in Captain Macheath, whence arose theirquarrel. 

She was replaced at Slang's theatre by Snooks, the rhinoceros-tamer, with his breed of wild buffaloes. Their success was immense. Slang gavea supper, at which all the company burst into tears; and assemblingin the green-room next day, they, as usual, voted a piece of plate toAdolphus Slang, Esquire, for his eminent services to the drama. 

In the Captain Macheath dispute Mr. Walker would have had his wifeyield; but on this point, and for once, she disobeyed her husband andleft the theatre. And when Walker cursed her (according to his wont) forher abominable selfishness and disregard of his property, she burstinto tears and said she had spent but twenty guineas on herself and babyduring the year, that her theatrical dressmaker's bills were yet unpaid, and that she had never asked him how much he spent on that odious Frenchfigurante. 

All this was true, except about the French figurante. Walker, as thelord and master, received all Morgiana's earnings, and spent them asa gentleman should. He gave very neat dinners at a cottage in Regent'sPark (Mr. And Mrs. Walker lived at Green Street, Grosvenor Square), heplayed a good deal at the "Regent;" but as to the French figurante, itmust be confessed, that Mrs. Walker was in a sad error: THAT lady andthe Captain had parted long ago; it was Madame Dolores de Tras-os-Monteswho inhabited the cottage in St. John's Wood now. 

But if some little errors of this kind might be attributable to theCaptain, on the other hand, when his wife was in the provinces, he wasthe most attentive of husbands; made all her bargains, and receivedevery shilling before he would permit her to sing a note. Thus heprevented her from being cheated, as a person of her easy temperdoubtless would have been, by designing managers and needyconcert-givers. They always travelled with four horses; and Walker wasadored in every one of the principal hotels in England. The waiters flewat his bell. The chambermaids were afraid he was a sad naughty man, andthought his wife no such great beauty; the landlords preferred him toany duke. HE never looked at their bills, not he! In fact his income wasat least four thousand a year for some years of his life. 

Master Woolsey Walker was put to Doctor Wapshot's seminary, whence, after many disputes on the Doctor's part as to getting his half-year'saccounts paid, and after much complaint of ill-treatment on the littleboy's side, he was withdrawn, and placed under the care of the ReverendMr. Swishtail, at Turnham Green; where all his bills are paid by hisgodfather, now the head of the firm of Woolsey and Co. 

As a gentleman, Mr. Walker still declines to see him; but he has not, as far as I have heard, paid the sums of money which he threatened torefund; and, as he is seldom at home the worthy tailor can come to GreenStreet at his leisure. He and Mrs. Crump, and Mrs. Walker often take theomnibus to Brentford, and a cake with them to little Woolsey at school;to whom the tailor says he will leave every shilling of his property. 

The Walkers have no other children; but when she takes her airing in thePark she always turns away at the sight of a low phaeton, in which sitsa woman with rouged cheeks, and a great number of overdressed childrenand a French bonne, whose name, I am given to understand, is MadameDolores de Tras-os-Montes. Madame de Tras-os-Montes always puts a greatgold glass to her eye as the Ravenswing's carriage passes, and looksinto it with a sneer. The two coachmen used always to exchange queerwinks at each other in the ring, until Madame de Tras-os-Montes latelyadopted a tremendous chasseur, with huge whiskers and a green and goldlivery; since which time the formerly named gentlemen do not recogniseeach other. 

The Ravenswing's life is one of perpetual triumph on the stage; and, asevery one of the fashionable men about town have been in love with her, you may fancy what a pretty character she has. Lady Thrum would diesooner than speak to that unhappy young woman; and, in fact, the Thrumshave a new pupil, who is a siren without the dangerous qualities of one, who has the person of Venus, and the mind of a Muse, and who is comingout at one of the theatres immediately. Baroski says, "De liddleRafenschwing is just as font of me as effer!" People are very shy aboutreceiving her in society; and when she goes to sing at a concert, MissPrim starts up and skurries off in a state of the greatest alarm, lest"that person" should speak to her. 

Walker is voted a good, easy, rattling, gentlemanly fellow, and nobody'senemy but his own. His wife, they say, is dreadfully extravagant: and, indeed, since his marriage, and in spite of his wife's large income, he has been in the Bench several times; but she signs some bills andhe comes out again, and is as gay and genial as ever. All mercantilespeculations he has wisely long since given up; he likes to throw amain of an evening, as I have said, and to take his couple of bottles atdinner. On Friday he attends at the theatre for his wife's salary, andtransacts no other business during the week. He grows exceedingly stout, dyes his hair, and has a bloated purple look about the nose and cheeks, very different from that which first charmed the heart of Morgiana. 

By the way, Eglantine has been turned out of the Bower of Bloom, and nowkeeps a shop at Tunbridge Wells. Going down thither last year without arazor, I asked a fat seedy man lolling in a faded nankeen jacket at thedoor of a tawdry little shop in the Pantiles, to shave me. He said inreply, "Sir, I do not practise in that branch of the profession!" andturned back into the little shop. It was Archibald Eglantine. But in thewreck of his fortunes he still has his captain's uniform, and his grandcross of the order of the Castle and Falcon of Panama. 

 *****

POSTSCRIPT. 

G. Fitz-Boodle, Esq. , to O. Yorke, Esq. 

ZUM TRIERISCHEN HOP, COBLENZ: July 10, 1843. 

MY DEAR YORKE, --The story of the Ravenswing was written a long timesince, and I never could account for the bad taste of the publishers ofthe metropolis who refused it an insertion in their various magazines. This fact would never have been alluded to but for the followingcircumstance:--

Only yesterday, as I was dining at this excellent hotel, I remarked abald-headed gentleman in a blue coat and brass buttons, who lookedlike a colonel on half-pay, and by his side a lady and a little boyof twelve, whom the gentleman was cramming with an amazing quantity ofcherries and cakes. A stout old dame in a wonderful cap and ribands wasseated by the lady's side, and it was easy to see they were English, andI thought I had already made their acquaintance elsewhere. 

The younger of the ladies at last made a bow with an accompanying blush. 

"Surely, " said I, "I have the honour of speaking to Mrs. Ravenswing?"

"Mrs. Woolsey, sir, " said the gentleman; "my wife has long since leftthe stage:" and at this the old lady in the wonderful cap trod on mytoes very severely, and nodded her head and all her ribands in a mostmysterious way. Presently the two ladies rose and left the table, theelder declaring that she heard the baby crying. 

"Woolsey, my dear, go with your mamma, " said Mr. Woolsey, patting theboy on the head. The young gentleman obeyed the command, carrying off aplate of macaroons with him. 

"Your son is a fine boy, sir, " said I. 

"My step-son, sir, " answered Mr. Woolsey; and added, in a louder voice, "I knew you, Mr. Fitz-Boodle, at once, but did not mention your namefor fear of agitating my wife. She don't like to have the memory of oldtimes renewed, sir; her former husband, whom you know, Captain Walker, made her very unhappy. He died in America, sir, of this, I fear"(pointing to the bottle), "and Mrs. W. Quitted the stage a year before Iquitted business. Are you going on to Wiesbaden?"

They went off in their carriage that evening, the boy on the box makinggreat efforts to blow out of the postilion's tasselled horn. 

I am glad that poor Morgiana is happy at last, and hasten to informyou of the fact. I am going to visit the old haunts of my youth atPumpernickel. Adieu. 

Yours, G. F. -B. 

MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERRY. 

CHAPTER I. THE FIGHT AT SLAUGHTER HOUSE. 

I am very fond of reading about battles, and have most of Marlborough'sand Wellington's at my fingers' ends; but the most tremendous combat Iever saw, and one that interests me to think of more than Malplaquet orWaterloo (which, by the way, has grown to be a downright nuisance, somuch do men talk of it after dinner, prating most disgustingly about"the Prussians coming up, " and what not)--I say the most tremendouscombat ever known was that between Berry and Biggs the gown-boy, whichcommenced in a certain place called Middle Briars, situated in the midstof the cloisters that run along the side of the playground of SlaughterHouse School, near Smithfield, London. It was there, madam, that yourhumble servant had the honour of acquiring, after six years' labour, that immense fund of classical knowledge which in after life has been soexceedingly useful to him. 

The circumstances of the quarrel were these:--Biggs, the gown-boy (aman who, in those days, I thought was at least seven feet high, and wasquite thunderstruck to find in after life that he measured no more thanfive feet four), was what we called "second cock" of the school; thefirst cock was a great big, good-humoured, lazy, fair-haired fellow, Old Hawkins by name, who, because he was large and good-humoured, hurtnobody. Biggs, on the contrary, was a sad bully; he had half-a-dozenfags, and beat them all unmercifully. Moreover, he had a little brother, a boarder in Potky's house, whom, as a matter of course, he hated andmaltreated worse than anyone else. 

Well, one day, because young Biggs had not brought his brother hishoops, or had not caught a ball at cricket, or for some other equallygood reason, Biggs the elder so belaboured the poor little fellow, thatBerry, who was sauntering by, and saw the dreadful blows which theelder brother was dealing to the younger with his hockey-stick, felta compassion for the little fellow (perhaps he had a jealousy againstBiggs, and wanted to try a few rounds with him, but that I can't vouchfor); however, Berry passing by, stopped and said, "Don't you thinkyou have thrashed the boy enough, Biggs?" He spoke this in a very civiltone, for he never would have thought of interfering rudely with thesacred privilege that an upper boy at a public school always has ofbeating a junior, especially when they happen to be brothers. 

The reply of Biggs, as might be expected, was to hit young Biggs withthe hockey-stick twice as hard as before, until the little wretch howledwith pain. "I suppose it's no business of yours, Berry, " said Biggs, thumping away all the while, and laid on worse and worse. 

Until Berry (and, indeed, little Biggs) could bear it no longer, and theformer, bouncing forward, wrenched the stick out of old Biggs's hands, and sent it whirling out of the cloister window, to the great wonder ofa crowd of us small boys, who were looking on. Little boys always liketo see a little companion of their own soundly beaten. 

"There!" said Berry, looking into Biggs's face, as much as to say, "I'vegone and done it;" and he added to the brother, "Scud away, you littlethief; I've saved you this time. "

"Stop, young Biggs!" roared out his brother after a pause; "or I'llbreak every bone in your infernal scoundrelly skin!"

Young Biggs looked at Berry, then at his brother, then came at hisbrother's order, as if back to be beaten again; but lost heart, and ranaway as fast as his little legs could carry him. 

"I'll do for him another time, " said Biggs. "Here, under-boy, take mycoat;" and we all began to gather round and formed a ring. 

"We had better wait till after school, Biggs, " cried Berry, quite cool, but looking a little pale. "There are only five minutes now, and it willtake you more than that to thrash me. "

Biggs upon this committed a great error; for he struck Berry slightlyacross the face with the back of his hand, saying, "You are in a funk. "But this was a feeling which Frank Berry did not in the least entertain;for, in reply to Biggs's back-hander, and as quick as thought, and withall his might and main--pong! he delivered a blow upon old Biggs's nosethat made the claret spirt, and sent the second cock down to the groundas if he had been shot. 

He was up again, however, in a minute, his face white and gashed withblood, his eyes glaring, a ghastly spectacle; and Berry, meanwhile, had taken his coat off, and by this time there were gathered in thecloisters, on all the windows, and upon each other's shoulders, onehundred and twenty young gentlemen at the very least, for the news hadgone out through the playground of "a fight between Berry and Biggs. "

But Berry was quite right in his remark about the propriety of deferringthe business, for at this minute Mr. Chip, the second master, came downthe cloisters going into school, and grinned in his queer way as he sawthe state of Biggs's face. "Holloa, Mr. Biggs, " said he, "I suppose youhave run against a finger-post. " That was the regular joke with us atschool, and you may be sure we all laughed heartily: as we always didwhen Mr. Chip made a joke, or anything like a joke. "You had better goto the pump, sir, and get yourself washed, and not let Doctor Buckle seeyou in that condition. " So saying, Mr. Chip disappeared to his duties inthe under-school, whither all we little boys followed him. 

It was Wednesday, a half-holiday, as everybody knows, and boiled-beefday at Slaughter House. I was in the same boarding-house with Berry, and we all looked to see whether he ate a good dinner, just as one wouldexamine a man who was going to be hanged. I recollected, in after-life, in Germany, seeing a friend who was going to fight a duel eat five larksfor his breakfast, and thought I had seldom witnessed greater courage. Berry ate moderately of the boiled beef--BOILED CHILD we used to call itat school, in our elegant jocular way; he knew a great deal better thanto load his stomach upon the eve of such a contest as was going to takeplace. 

Dinner was very soon over, and Mr. Chip, who had been all the whilejoking Berry, and pressing him to eat, called him up into his study, to the great disappointment of us all, for we thought he was going toprevent the fight; but no such thing. The Reverend Edward Chip tookBerry into his study, and poured him out two glasses of port-wine, whichhe made him take with a biscuit, and patted him on the back, and wentoff. I have no doubt he was longing, like all of us, to see the battle;but etiquette, you know, forbade. 

When we went out into the green, Old Hawkins was there--the greatHawkins, the cock of the school. I have never seen the man since, butstill think of him as of something awful, gigantic, mysterious: he whocould thrash everybody, who could beat all the masters; how we longedfor him to put in his hand and lick Buckle! He was a dull boy, not veryhigh in the school, and had all his exercises written for him. Buckleknew this, but respected him; never called him up to read Greek plays;passed over all his blunders, which were many; let him go out ofhalf-holidays into the town as he pleased: how should any man dare tostop him--the great calm magnanimous silent Strength! They say he lickeda Life-Guardsman: I wonder whether it was Shaw, who killed all thoseFrenchmen? No, it could not be Shaw, for he was dead au champ d'honneur;but he WOULD have licked Shaw if he had been alive. A bargeman I know helicked, at Jack Randall's in Slaughter House Lane. Old Hawkins was toolazy to play at cricket; he sauntered all day in the sunshine about thegreen, accompanied by little Tippins, who was in the sixth form, laughedand joked at Hawkins eternally, and was the person who wrote all hisexercises. 

Instead of going into town this afternoon, Hawkins remained at SlaughterHouse, to see the great fight between the second and third cocks. 

The different masters of the school kept boarding-houses (such asPotky's, Chip's, Wickens's, Pinney's, and so on), and the playground, or"green" as it was called, although the only thing green about the placewas the broken glass on the walls that separate Slaughter House fromWilderness Row and Goswell Street--(many a time have I seen Mr. Pickwicklook out of his window in that street, though we did not know himthen)--the playground, or green, was common to all. But if any strayboy from Potky's was found, for instance, in, or entering into, Chip'shouse, the most dreadful tortures were practised upon him: as I cananswer in my own case. 

Fancy, then, our astonishment at seeing a little three-foot wretch, ofthe name of Wills, one of Hawkins's fags (they were both in Potky's), walk undismayed amongst us lions at Chip's house, as the "rich and rare"young lady did in Ireland. We were going to set upon him and devour orotherwise maltreat him, when he cried out in a little shrill impertinentvoice, "TELL BERRY I WANT HIM!"

We all roared with laughter. Berry was in the sixth form, and Wills orany under-boy would as soon have thought of "wanting" him, as I shouldof wanting the Duke of Wellington. 

Little Wills looked round in an imperious kind of way. "Well, " says he, stamping his foot, "do you hear? TELL BERRY THAT HAWKINS WANTS HIM!"

As for resisting the law of Hawkins, you might as soon think ofresisting immortal Jove. Berry and Tolmash, who was to be hisbottle-holder, made their appearance immediately, and walked out intothe green where Hawkins was waiting, and, with an irresistible audacitythat only belonged to himself, in the face of nature and all theregulations of the place, was smoking a cigar. When Berry and Tolmashfound him, the three began slowly pacing up and down in the sunshine, and we little boys watched them. 

Hawkins moved his arms and hands every now and then, and was evidentlylaying down the law about boxing. We saw his fists darting out every nowand then with mysterious swiftness, hitting one, two, quick as thought, as if in the face of an adversary; now his left hand went up, as ifguarding his own head, now his immense right fist dreadfully flappedthe air, as if punishing his imaginary opponent's miserable ribs. Theconversation lasted for some ten minutes, about which time gown-boys'dinner was over, and we saw these youths, in their black horned-buttonjackets and knee-breeches, issuing from their door in the cloisters. There were no hoops, no cricket-bats, as usual on a half-holiday. Whowould have thought of play in expectation of such tremendous sport aswas in store for us?

Towering among the gown-boys, of whom he was the head and the tyrant, leaning upon Bushby's arm, and followed at a little distance by manycurious pale awe-stricken boys, dressed in his black silk stockings, which he always sported, and with a crimson bandanna tied round hiswaist, came BIGGS. His nose was swollen with the blow given beforeschool, but his eyes flashed fire. He was laughing and sneering withBushby, and evidently intended to make minced meat of Berry. 

The betting began pretty freely: the bets were against poor Berry. Fiveto three were offered--in ginger-beer. I took six to four in raspberryopen tarts. The upper boys carried the thing farther still: and I knowfor a fact, that Swang's book amounted to four pound three (but hehedged a good deal), and Tittery lost seventeen shillings in a singlebet to Pitts, who took the odds. 

As Biggs and his party arrived, I heard Hawkins say to Berry, "Forheaven's sake, my boy, fib with your right, and MIND HIS LEFT HAND!"

Middle Briars was voted to be too confined a space for the combat, andit was agreed that it should take place behind the under-school inthe shade, whither we all went. Hawkins, with his immense silverhunting-watch, kept the time; and water was brought from the pump closeto Notley's the pastrycook's, who did not admire fisticuffs at all onhalf-holidays, for the fights kept the boys away from his shop. Gutleywas the only fellow in the school who remained faithful to him, andhe sat on the counter--the great gormandising brute!--eating tarts thewhole day. 

This famous fight, as every Slaughter House man knows, lasted for twohours and twenty-nine minutes, by Hawkins's immense watch. All this timethe air resounded with cries of "Go it, Berry!" "Go it, Biggs!" "Pitchinto him!" "Give it him!" and so on. Shall I describe the hundred andtwo rounds of the combat?--No!--It would occupy too much space, and thetaste for such descriptions has passed away. [3]

1st round. Both the combatants fresh, and in prime order. The weightand inches somewhat on the gown-boy's side. Berry goes gallantly in, and delivers a clinker on the gown-boy's jaw. Biggs makes play with hisleft. Berry down. 

 *****

4th round. Claret drawn in profusion from the gown-boy's grogshop. (Hewent down, and had his front tooth knocked out, but the blow cut Berry'sknuckles a great deal. )

 *****

15th round. Chancery. Fibbing. Biggs makes dreadful work with hisleft. Break away. Rally. Biggs down. Betting still six to four on thegown-boy. 

 *****

20th round. The men both dreadfully punished. Berry somewhat shy of hisadversary's left hand. 

 *****

29th to 42nd round. The Chipsite all this while breaks away from thegown-boy's left, and goes down on a knee. Six to four on the gown-boy, until the fortieth round, when the bets became equal. 

 *****

102nd and last round. For half-an-hour the men had stood up to eachother, but were almost too weary to strike. The gown-boy's face hardlyto be recognised, swollen and streaming with blood. The Chipsite ina similar condition, and still more punished about his side from hisenemy's left hand. Berry gives a blow at his adversary's face, and fallsover him as he falls. 

The gown-boy can't come up to time. And thus ended the great fight ofBerry and Biggs. 

And what, pray, has this horrid description of a battle and parcel ofschoolboys to do with Men's Wives?

What has it to do with Men's Wives?--A great deal more, madam, than youthink for. Only read Chapter II. , and you shall hear. 

CHAPTER II. THE COMBAT AT VERSAILLES. 

I afterwards came to be Berry's fag, and, though beaten by him daily, heallowed, of course, no one else to lay a hand upon me, and I got no morethrashing than was good for me. Thus an intimacy grew up between us, and after he left Slaughter House and went into the dragoons, the honestfellow did not forget his old friend, but actually made his appearanceone day in the playground in moustaches and a braided coat, and gaveme a gold pencil-case and a couple of sovereigns. I blushed when I tookthem, but take them I did; and I think the thing I almost best recollectin my life, is the sight of Berry getting behind an immense baycab-horse, which was held by a correct little groom, and was waitingnear the school in Slaughter House Square. He proposed, too, to have meto "Long's, " where he was lodging for the time; but this invitationwas refused on my behalf by Doctor Buckle, who said, and possibly withcorrectness, that I should get little good by spending my holiday withsuch a scapegrace. 

Once afterwards he came to see me at Christ Church, and we made a showof writing to one another, and didn't, and always had a hearty mutualgoodwill; and though we did not quite burst into tears on parting, wereyet quite happy when occasion threw us together, and so almost lostsight of each other. I heard lately that Berry was married, and amrather ashamed to say, that I was not so curious as even to ask themaiden name of his lady. 

Last summer I was at Paris, and had gone over to Versailles to meet aparty, one of which was a young lady to whom I was tenderly--But, nevermind. The day was rainy, and the party did not keep its appointment;and after yawning through the interminable Palace picture-galleries, andthen making an attempt to smoke a cigar in the Palace garden--for whichcrime I was nearly run through the body by a rascally sentinel--I wasdriven, perforce, into the great bleak lonely place before the Palace, with its roads branching off to all the towns in the world, which Louisand Napoleon once intended to conquer, and there enjoyed my favouritepursuit at leisure, and was meditating whether I should go back to"Vefour's" for dinner, or patronise my friend M. Duboux of the "Hoteldes Reservoirs" who gives not only a good dinner, but as dear a one asheart can desire. I was, I say, meditating these things, when a carriagepassed by. It was a smart low calash, with a pair of bay horses and apostilion in a drab jacket that twinkled with innumerable buttons, andI was too much occupied in admiring the build of the machine, andthe extreme tightness of the fellow's inexpressibles, to look at thepersonages within the carriage, when the gentleman roared out "Fitz!"and the postilion pulled up, and the lady gave a shrill scream, anda little black-muzzled spaniel began barking and yelling with all hismight, and a man with moustaches jumped out of the vehicle, and beganshaking me by the hand. 

"Drive home, John, " said the gentleman: "I'll be with you, my love, inan instant--it's an old friend. Fitz, let me present you to Mrs. Berry. "

The lady made an exceedingly gentle inclination of her black-velvetbonnet, and said, "Pray, my love, remember that it is just dinner-time. However, never mind ME. " And with another slight toss and a nod to thepostilion, that individual's white leather breeches began to jump upand down again in the saddle, and the carriage disappeared, leaving meshaking my old friend Berry by the hand. 

He had long quitted the army, but still wore his military beard, which gave to his fair pink face a fierce and lion-like look. He wasextraordinarily glad to see me, as only men are glad who live in a smalltown, or in dull company. There is no destroyer of friendships likeLondon, where a man has no time to think of his neighbour, and hasfar too many friends to care for them. He told me in a breath of hismarriage, and how happy he was, and straight insisted that I mustcome home to dinner, and see more of Angelica, who had invited meherself--didn't I hear her?

"Mrs. Berry asked YOU, Frank; but I certainly did not hear her ask ME!"

"She would not have mentioned the dinner but that she meant me to askyou. I know she did, " cried Frank Berry. "And, besides--hang it--I'mmaster of the house. So come you shall. No ceremony, old boy--one or twofriends--snug family party--and we'll talk of old times over a bottle ofclaret. "

There did not seem to me to be the slightest objection to thisarrangement, except that my boots were muddy, and my coat of the morningsort. But as it was quite impossible to go to Paris and back again ina quarter of an hour, and as a man may dine with perfect comfort tohimself in a frock-coat, it did not occur to me to be particularlysqueamish, or to decline an old friend's invitation upon a pretext sotrivial. 

Accordingly we walked to a small house in the Avenue de Paris, and wereadmitted first into a small garden ornamented by a grotto, a fountain, and several nymphs in plaster-of-Paris, then up a mouldy old steep stairinto a hall, where a statue of Cupid and another of Venus welcomed uswith their eternal simper; then through a salle-a-manger where coverswere laid for six; and finally to a little saloon, where Fido the dogbegan to howl furiously according to his wont. 

It was one of the old pavilions that had been built for a pleasure-housein the gay days of Versailles, ornamented with abundance of damp Cupidsand cracked gilt cornices, and old mirrors let into the walls, andgilded once, but now painted a dingy French white. The long low windowslooked into the court, where the fountain played its ceaseless dribble, surrounded by numerous rank creepers and weedy flowers, but in the midstof which the statues stood with their bases quite moist and green. 

I hate fountains and statues in dark confined places: that cheerless, endless plashing of water is the most inhospitable sound ever heard. Thestiff grin of those French statues, or ogling Canova Graces, is by nomeans more happy, I think, than the smile of a skeleton, and not sonatural. Those little pavilions in which the old roues sported werenever meant to be seen by daylight, depend on't. They were lighted upwith a hundred wax-candles, and the little fountain yonder was meantonly to cool their claret. And so, my first impression of Berry'splace of abode was rather a dismal one. However, I heard him in thesalle-a-manger drawing the corks, which went off with a CLOOP, and thatconsoled me. 

As for the furniture of the rooms appertaining to the Berrys, therewas a harp in a leather case, and a piano, and a flute-box, and a hugetambour with a Saracen's nose just begun, and likewise on the tablea multiplicity of those little gilt books, half sentimental and halfreligious, which the wants of the age and of our young ladies haveproduced in such numbers of late. I quarrel with no lady's taste in thatway; but heigho! I had rather that Mrs. Fitz-Boodle should read "HumphryClinker!"

Besides these works, there was a "Peerage, " of course. What genteelfamily was ever without one?

I was making for the door to see Frank drawing the corks, and wasbounced at by the amiable little black-muzzled spaniel, who fastened histeeth in my pantaloons, and received a polite kick in consequence, whichsent him howling to the other end of the room, and the animal was justin the act of performing that feat of agility, when the door openedand madame made her appearance. Frank came behind her, peering over hershoulder with rather an anxious look. 

Mrs. Berry is an exceedingly white and lean person. She has thickeyebrows, which meet rather dangerously over her nose, which is Grecian, and a small mouth with no lips--a sort of feeble pucker in the face asit were. Under her eyebrows are a pair of enormous eyes, which she isin the habit of turning constantly ceiling-wards. Her hair is ratherscarce, and worn in bandeaux, and she commonly mounts a sprig of laurel, or a dark flower or two, which with the sham tour--I believe that is thename of the knob of artificial hair that many ladies sport--gives hera rigid and classical look. She is dressed in black, and has invariablythe neatest of silk stockings and shoes: for forsooth her foot is a fineone, and she always sits with it before her, looking at it, stamping it, and admiring it a great deal. "Fido, " she says to her spaniel, "you havealmost crushed my poor foot;" or, "Frank, " to her husband, "bring me afootstool:" or, "I suffer so from cold in the feet, " and so forth; butbe the conversation what it will, she is always sure to put HER FOOTinto it. 

She invariably wears on her neck the miniature of her late father, SirGeorge Catacomb, apothecary to George III. ; and she thinks those two menthe greatest the world ever saw. She was born in Baker Street, PortmanSquare, and that is saying almost enough of her. She is as long, asgenteel, and as dreary, as that deadly-lively place, and sports, byway of ornament, her papa's hatchment, as it were, as every tenth BakerStreet house has taught her. 

What induced such a jolly fellow as Frank Berry to marry Miss AngelicaCatacomb no one can tell. He met her, he says, at a ball at HamptonCourt, where his regiment was quartered, and where, to this day, lives"her aunt Lady Pash. " She alludes perpetually in conversation to thatcelebrated lady; and if you look in the "Baronetage" to the pedigreeof the Pash family, you may see manuscript notes by Mrs. Frank Berry, relative to them and herself. Thus, when you see in print that Sir JohnPash married Angelica, daughter of Graves Catacomb, Esquire, in a neathand you find written, AND SISTER OF THE LATE SIR GEORGE CATACOMB, OFBAKER STREET, PORTMAN SQUARE: "A. B. " follows of course. It is a wonderhow fond ladies are of writing in books, and signing their charminginitials! Mrs. Berry's before-mentioned little gilt books are scoredwith pencil-marks, or occasionally at the margin with a!--note ofinterjection, or the words "TOO TRUE, A. B. " and so on. Much may belearned with regard to lovely woman by a look at the books she reads in;and I had gained no inconsiderable knowledge of Mrs. Berry by the tenminutes spent in the drawing-room, while she was at her toilet in theadjoining bedchamber. 

"You have often heard me talk of George Fitz, " says Berry, with anappealing look to madame. 

"Very often, " answered his lady, in a tone which clearly meant "a greatdeal too much. " "Pray, sir, " continued she, looking at my boots with allher might, "are we to have your company at dinner?"

"Of course you are, my dear; what else do you think he came for? Youwould not have the man go back to Paris to get his evening coat, wouldyou?"

"At least, my love, I hope you will go and put on YOURS, and changethose muddy boots. Lady Pash will be here in five minutes, and you knowDobus is as punctual as clockwork. " Then turning to me with a sort ofapology that was as consoling as a box on the ear, "We have some friendsat dinner, sir, who are rather particular persons; but I am sure whenthey hear that you only came on a sudden invitation, they will excuseyour morning dress. --Bah! what a smell of smoke!"

With this speech madame placed herself majestically on a sofa, put outher foot, called Fido, and relapsed into an icy silence. Frank had longsince evacuated the premises, with a rueful look at his wife, but neverdaring to cast a glance at me. I saw the whole business at once: herewas this lion of a fellow tamed down by a she Van Amburgh, and fetchingand carrying at her orders a great deal more obediently than her littleyowling black-muzzled darling of a Fido. 

I am not, however, to be tamed so easily, and was determined in thisinstance not to be in the least disconcerted, or to show the smallestsign of ill-humour: so to renouer the conversation, I began about LadyPash. 

"I heard you mention the name of Pash, I think?" said I. "I know a ladyof that name, and a very ugly one it is too. "

"It is most probably not the same person, " answered Mrs. Berry, witha look which intimated that a fellow like me could never have had thehonour to know so exalted a person. 

"I mean old Lady Pash of Hampton Court. Fat woman--fair, ain't she?--andwears an amethyst in her forehead, has one eye, a blond wig, and dressesin light green?"

"Lady Pash, sir, is MY AUNT, " answered Mrs. Berry (not altogetherdispleased, although she expected money from the old lady; but you knowwe love to hear our friends abused when it can be safely done). 

"Oh, indeed! she was a daughter of old Catacomb's of Windsor, Iremember, the undertaker. They called her husband Callipash, and herladyship Pishpash. So you see, madam, that I know the whole family!"

"Mr. Fitz-Simons!" exclaimed Mrs. Berry, rising, "I am not accustomed tohear nicknames applied to myself and my family; and must beg you, when you honour us with your company, to spare our feelings as much aspossible. Mr. Catacomb had the confidence of his SOVEREIGN, sir, and SirJohn Pash was of Charles II. 's creation. The one was my uncle, sir; theother my grandfather!"

"My dear madam, I am extremely sorry, and most sincerely apologisefor my inadvertence. But you owe me an apology too: my name is notFitz-Simons, but Fitz-Boodle. "

"What! of Boodle Hall--my husband's old friend; of Charles I. 'screation? My dear sir, I beg you a thousand pardons, and am delightedto welcome a person of whom I have heard Frank say so much. Frank!" (toBerry, who soon entered in very glossy boots and a white waistcoat), "doyou know, darling, I mistook Mr. Fitz-Boodle for Mr. Fitz-Simons--thathorrid Irish horse-dealing person; and I never, never, never can pardonmyself for being so rude to him. "

The big eyes here assumed an expression that was intended to kill meoutright with kindness: from being calm, still, reserved, Angelicasuddenly became gay, smiling, confidential, and folatre. She told me shehad heard I was a sad creature, and that she intended to reform me, andthat I must come and see Frank a great deal. 

Now, although Mr. Fitz-Simons, for whom I was mistaken, is as lowa fellow as ever came out of Dublin, and having been a captain insomebody's army, is now a blackleg and horse-dealer by profession; yet, if I had brought him home to Mrs. Fitz-Boodle to dinner, I should haveliked far better that that imaginary lady should have received him withdecent civility, and not insulted the stranger within her husband'sgates. And, although it was delightful to be received so cordiallywhen the mistake was discovered, yet I found that ALL Berry's oldacquaintances were by no means so warmly welcomed; for another oldschool-chum presently made his appearance, who was treated in a verydifferent manner. 

This was no other than poor Jack Butts, who is a sort of small artistand picture-dealer by profession, and was a dayboy at Slaughter Housewhen we were there, and very serviceable in bringing in sausages, pots of pickles, and other articles of merchandise, which we could nototherwise procure. The poor fellow has been employed, seemingly, in thesame office of fetcher and carrier ever since; and occupied that postfor Mrs. Berry. It was, "Mr. Butts, have you finished that drawing forLady Pash's album?" and Butts produced it; and, "Did you match the silkfor me at Delille's?" and there was the silk, bought, no doubt, with thepoor fellow's last five francs; and, "Did you go to the furniture-man inthe Rue St. Jacques; and bring the canary-seed, and call about myshawl at that odious dawdling Madame Fichet's; and have you brought theguitar-strings?"

Butts hadn't brought the guitar-strings; and thereupon Mrs. Berry'scountenance assumed the same terrible expression which I had formerlyremarked in it, and which made me tremble for Berry. 

"My dear Angelica, " though said he with some spirit, "Jack Butts isn'ta baggage-waggon, nor a Jack-of-all-trades; you make him paint picturesfor your women's albums, and look after your upholsterer, and yourcanary-bird, and your milliners, and turn rusty because he forgets yourlast message. "

"I did not turn RUSTY, Frank, as you call it elegantly. I'm very muchobliged to Mr. Butts for performing my commissions--very much obliged. And as for not paying for the pictures to which you so kindly allude, Frank, _I_ should never have thought of offering payment for so paltry aservice; but I'm sure I shall be happy to pay if Mr. Butts will send mein his bill. "

"By Jove, Angelica, this is too much!" bounced out Berry; but the littlematrimonial squabble was abruptly ended, by Berry's French man flingingopen the door and announcing MILADI PASH and Doctor Dobus, which twopersonages made their appearance. 

The person of old Pash has been already parenthetically described. Butquite different from her dismal niece in temperament, she is as jolly anold widow as ever wore weeds. She was attached somehow to the Court, andhas a multiplicity of stories about the princesses and the old King, to which Mrs. Berry never fails to call your attention in her grave, important way. Lady Pash has ridden many a time to the Windsor hounds;she made her husband become a member of the Four-in-hand Club, and hasnumberless stories about Sir Godfrey Webster, Sir John Lade, and theold heroes of those times. She has lent a rouleau to Dick Sheridan, and remembers Lord Byron when he was a sulky slim young lad. She saysCharles Fox was the pleasantest fellow she ever met with, and has notthe slightest objection to inform you that one of the princes was verymuch in love with her. Yet somehow she is only fifty-two years old, andI have never been able to understand her calculation. One day or otherbefore her eye went out, and before those pearly teeth of hers werestuck to her gums by gold, she must have been a pretty-looking bodyenough. Yet, in spite of the latter inconvenience, she eats anddrinks too much every day, and tosses off a glass of maraschino with atrembling pudgy hand, every finger of which twinkles with a dozen, atleast, of old rings. She has a story about every one of those rings, anda stupid one too. But there is always something pleasant, I think, instupid family stories: they are good-hearted people who tell them. 

As for Mrs. Muchit, nothing need be said of her; she is Pash'scompanion; she has lived with Lady Pash since the peace. Nor does myLady take any more notice of her than of the dust of the earth. Shecalls her "poor Muchit, " and considers her a half-witted creature. Mrs. Berry hates her cordially, and thinks she is a designing toad-eater, who has formed a conspiracy to rob her of her aunt's fortune. She neverspoke a word to poor Muchit during the whole of dinner, or offered tohelp her to anything on the table. 

In respect to Dobus, he is an old Peninsular man, as you are made toknow before you have been very long in his company; and, like most armysurgeons, is a great deal more military in his looks and conversation, than the combatant part of the forces. He has adopted thesham-Duke-of-Wellington air, which is by no means uncommon in veterans;and, though one of the easiest and softest fellows in existence, speaksslowly and briefly, and raps out an oath or two occasionally, as it issaid a certain great captain does. Besides the above, we sat down totable with Captain Goff, late of the ---- Highlanders; the ReverendLemuel Whey, who preaches at St. Germains; little Cutler, and theFrenchman, who always WILL be at English parties on the Continent, andwho, after making some frightful efforts to speak English, subsides andis heard no more. Young married ladies and heads of families generallyhave him for the purpose of waltzing, and in return he informs hisfriends of the club or the cafe that he has made the conquest of acharmante Anglaise. Listen to me, all family men who read this! andnever LET AN UNMARRIED FRENCHMAN INTO YOUR DOORS. This lecture alone isworth the price of the book. It is not that they do any harm in one caseout of a thousand, Heaven forbid! but they mean harm. They look on ourSusannas with unholy dishonest eyes. Hearken to two of the grinningrogues chattering together as they clink over the asphalte ofthe Boulevard with lacquered boots, and plastered hair, and waxedmoustaches, and turned-down shirt-collars, and stays and goggling eyes, and hear how they talk of a good simple giddy vain dull BakerStreet creature, and canvass her points, and show her letters, andinsinuate--never mind, but I tell you my soul grows angry when I thinkof the same; and I can't hear of an Englishwoman marrying a Frenchmanwithout feeling a sort of shame and pity for her. [4]

To return to the guests. The Reverend Lemuel Whey is a tea-party man, with a curl on his forehead and a scented pocket-handkerchief. He tieshis white neckcloth to a wonder, and I believe sleeps in it. He bringshis flute with him; and prefers Handel, of course; but has one or twopet profane songs of the sentimental kind, and will occasionally liftup his little pipe in a glee. He does not dance, but the honest fellowwould give the world to do it; and he leaves his clogs in the passage, though it is a wonder he wears them, for in the muddiest weather henever has a speck on his foot. He was at St. John's College, Cambridge, and was rather gay for a term or two, he says. He is, in a word, full ofthe milk-and-water of human kindness, and his family lives near Hackney. 

As for Goff, he has a huge shining bald forehead, and immense bristlingIndian-red whiskers. He wears white wash-leather gloves, drinks fairly, likes a rubber, and has a story for after dinner, beginning, "Doctor, yeracklackt Sandy M'Lellan, who joined us in the West Indies. Wal, sir, "etc. These and little Cutler made up the party. 

Now it may not have struck all readers, but any sharp fellow conversantwith writing must have found out long ago, that if there had beensomething exceedingly interesting to narrate with regard to this dinnerat Frank Berry's, I should have come out with it a couple of pagessince, nor have kept the public looking for so long a time at thedish-covers and ornaments of the table. 

But the simple fact must now be told, that there was nothing of theslightest importance occurred at this repast, except that it gave me anopportunity of studying Mrs. Berry in many different ways; and, in spiteof the extreme complaisance which she now showed me, of forming, I amsorry to say, a most unfavourable opinion of that fair lady. Truth totell, I would much rather she should have been civil to Mrs. Muchit, than outrageously complimentary to your humble servant; and as sheprofessed not to know what on earth there was for dinner, would it nothave been much more natural for her not to frown, and bob, and wink, and point, and pinch her lips as often as Monsieur Anatole, her Frenchdomestic, not knowing the ways of English dinner-tables, placed anythingout of its due order? The allusions to Boodle Hall were innumerable, and I don't know any greater bore than to be obliged to talk of a placewhich belongs to one's elder brother. Many questions were likewise askedabout the dowager and her Scotch relatives, the Plumduffs, about whomLady Pash knew a great deal, having seen them at Court and at LordMelville's. Of course she had seen them at Court and at Lord Melville's, as she might have seen thousands of Scotchmen besides; but what matteredit to me, who care not a jot for old Lady Fitz-Boodle? "When you write, you'll say you met an old friend of her Ladyship's, " says Mrs. Berry, and I faithfully promised I would when I wrote; but if the New PostOffice paid us for writing letters (as very possibly it will soon), Icould not be bribed to send a line to old Lady Fitz. 

In a word, I found that Berry, like many simple fellows before him, hadmade choice of an imperious, ill-humoured, and underbred female for awife, and could see with half an eye that he was a great deal too muchher slave. 

The struggle was not over yet, however. Witness that little encounterbefore dinner; and once or twice the honest fellow replied rathersmartly during the repast, taking especial care to atone as muchas possible for his wife's inattention to Jack and Mrs. Muchit, byparticular attention to those personages, whom he helped to everythinground about and pressed perpetually to champagne; he drank but littlehimself, for his amiable wife's eye was constantly fixed on him. 

Just at the conclusion of the dessert, madame, who had bouded Berryduring dinner-time, became particularly gracious to her lord and master, and tenderly asked me if I did not think the French custom was a goodone, of men leaving table with the ladies. 

"Upon my word, ma'am, " says I, "I think it's a most abominablepractice. "

"And so do I, " says Cutler. 

"A most abominable practice! Do you hear THAT?" cries Berry, laughing, and filling his glass. 

"I'm sure, Frank, when we are alone you always come to thedrawing-room, " replies the lady, sharply. 

"Oh, yes! when we're alone, darling, " says Berry, blushing; "but nowwe're NOT alone--ha, ha! Anatole, du Bordeaux!"

"I'm sure they sat after the ladies at Carlton House; didn't they, LadyPash?" says Dobus, who likes his glass. 

"THAT they did!" says my Lady, giving him a jolly nod. 

"I racklackt, " exclaims Captain Goff, "when I was in the Mauritius, thatMestress MacWhirter, who commanded the Saxty-Sackond, used to say, 'Mac, if ye want to get lively, ye'll not stop for more than two hours afterthe leddies have laft ye: if ye want to get drunk, ye'll just dine atthe mass. ' So ye see, Mestress Barry, what was Mac's allowance--haw, haw! Mester Whey, I'll trouble ye for the o-lives. "

But although we were in a clear majority, that indomitable woman, Mrs. Berry, determined to make us all as uneasy as possible, and would takethe votes all round. Poor Jack, of course, sided with her, and Whey saidhe loved a cup of tea and a little music better than all the wine ofBordeaux. As for the Frenchman, when Mrs. Berry said, "And what do youthink, M. Le Vicomte?"

"Vat you speak?" said M. De Blagueval, breaking silence for the firsttime during two hours. "Yase--eh? to me you speak?"

"Apry deeny, aimy-voo ally avec les dam?"

"Comment avec les dames?"

"Ally avec les dam com a Parry, ou resty avec les Messew com onOnglyterre?"

"Ah, madame! vous me le demandez?" cries the little wretch, starting upin a theatrical way, and putting out his hand, which Mrs. Berry took, and with this the ladies left the room. Old Lady Pash trotted after herniece with her hand in Whey's, very much wondering at such practices, which were not in the least in vogue in the reign of George III. 

Mrs. Berry cast a glance of triumph at her husband, at the defection;and Berry was evidently annoyed that three-eighths of his male forceshad left him. 

But fancy our delight and astonishment, when in a minute they all threecame back again; the Frenchman looking entirely astonished, and theparson and the painter both very queer. The fact is, old downright LadyPash, who had never been in Paris in her life before, and had no notionof being deprived of her usual hour's respite and nap, said at once toMrs. Berry, "My dear Angelica, you're surely not going to keep thesethree men here? Send them back to the dining-room, for I've a thousandthings to say to you. " And Angelica, who expects to inherit her aunt'sproperty, of course did as she was bid; on which the old lady fell intoan easy chair, and fell asleep immediately, --so soon, that is, asthe shout caused by the reappearance of the three gentlemen in thedining-room had subsided. 

I had meanwhile had some private conversation with little Cutlerregarding the character of Mrs. Berry. "She's a regular screw, "whispered he; "a regular Tartar. Berry shows fight, though, sometimes, and I've known him have his own way for a week together. After dinnerhe is his own master, and hers when he has had his share of wine; andthat's why she will never allow him to drink any. "

Was it a wicked, or was it a noble and honourable thought which cameto us both at the same minute, to rescue Berry from his captivity? Theladies, of course, will give their verdict according to their gentlenatures; but I know what men of courage will think, and by their jovialjudgment will abide. 

We received, then, the three lost sheep back into our innocent foldagain with the most joyous shouting and cheering. We made Berry (whowas, in truth, nothing loth) order up I don't know how much more claret. We obliged the Frenchman to drink malgre lui, and in the course ofa short time we had poor Whey in such a state of excitement, that heactually volunteered to sing a song, which he said he had heard at somevery gay supper-party at Cambridge, and which begins:

 "A pye sat on a pear-tree, A pye sat on a pear-tree, A pye sat on a pear-tree, Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, heigh-ho!"

Fancy Mrs. Berry's face as she looked in, in the midst of thatBacchanalian ditty, when she saw no less a person than the ReverendLemuel Whey carolling it!

"Is it you, my dear?" cries Berry, as brave now as any Petruchio. "Comein, and sit down, and hear Whey's song. "

"Lady Pash is asleep, Frank, " said she. 

"Well, darling! that's the very reason. Give Mrs. Berry a glass, Jack, will you?"

"Would you wake your aunt, sir?" hissed out madame. 

"NEVER MIND ME, LOVE! I'M AWAKE, AND LIKE IT!" cried the venerable LadyPash from the salon. "Sing away, gentlemen!"

At which we all set up an audacious cheer; and Mrs. Berry flounced backto the drawing-room, but did not leave the door open, that her auntmight hear our melodies. 

Berry had by this time arrived at that confidential state to which athird bottle always brings the well-regulated mind; and he made a cleanconfession to Cutler and myself of his numerous matrimonial annoyances. He was not allowed to dine out, he said, and but seldom to ask hisfriends to meet him at home. He never dared smoke a cigar for the lifeof him, not even in the stables. He spent the mornings dawdling ineternal shops, the evenings at endless tea-parties, or in readingpoems or missionary tracts to his wife. He was compelled to take physicwhenever she thought he looked a little pale, to change his shoes andstockings whenever he came in from a walk. "Look here, " said he, openinghis chest, and shaking his fist at Dobus; "look what Angelica and thatinfernal Dobus have brought me to. "

I thought it might be a flannel waistcoat into which madame hadforced him; but it was worse: I give you my word of honour it was aPITCH-PLASTER!

We all roared at this, and the doctor as loud as anyone; but he vowedthat he had no hand in the pitch-plaster. It was a favourite familyremedy of the late apothecary Sir George Catacomb, and had been put onby Mrs. Berry's own fair hands. 

When Anatole came in with coffee, Berry was in such high courage, thathe told him to go to the deuce with it; and we never caught sight ofLady Pash more, except when, muffled up to the nose, she passed throughthe salle-a-manger to go to her carriage, in which Dobus and the parsonwere likewise to be transported to Paris. "Be a man, Frank, " says she, "and hold your own"--for the good old lady had taken her nephew's partin the matrimonial business--"and you, Mr. Fitz-Boodle, come and see himoften. You're a good fellow, take old one-eyed Callipash's word for it. Shall I take you to Paris?"

Dear kind Angelica, she had told her aunt all I said!

"Don't go, George, " says Berry, squeezing me by the hand. So I said Iwas going to sleep at Versailles that night; but if she would give aconvoy to Jack Butts, it would be conferring a great obligation on him;with which favour the old lady accordingly complied, saying to him, with great coolness, "Get up and sit with John in the rumble, Mr. What-d'ye-call-'im. " The fact is, the good old soul despises an artistas much as she does a tailor. 

Jack tripped to his place very meekly; and "Remember Saturday, " criedthe Doctor; and "Don't forget Thursday!" exclaimed the divine, --"abachelor's party, you know. " And so the cavalcade drove thundering downthe gloomy old Avenue de Paris. 

The Frenchman, I forgot to say, had gone away exceedingly ill longbefore; and the reminiscences of "Thursday" and "Saturday" evoked byDobus and Whey, were, to tell the truth, parts of our conspiracy; for inthe heat of Berry's courage, we had made him promise to dine with us allround en garcon; with all except Captain Goff, who "racklacted" that hewas engaged every day for the next three weeks: as indeed he is, toa thirty-sous ordinary which the gallant officer frequents, when notinvited elsewhere. 

Cutler and I then were the last on the field; and though we were formoving away, Berry, whose vigour had, if possible, been excited by thebustle and colloquy in the night air, insisted upon dragging us backagain, and actually proposed a grill for supper!

We found in the salle-a-manger a strong smell of an extinguished lamp, and Mrs. Berry was snuffing out the candles on the sideboard. 

"Hullo, my dear!" shouts Berry: "easy, if you please; we've not doneyet!"

"Not done yet, Mr. Berry!" groans the lady, in a hollow sepulchral tone. 

"No, Mrs. B. , not done yet. We are going to have some supper, ain't we, George?"

"I think it's quite time to go home, " said Mr. Fitz-Boodle (who, to saythe truth, began to tremble himself). 

"I think it is, sir; you are quite right, sir; you will pardon me, gentlemen, I have a bad headache, and will retire. "

"Good-night, my dear!" said that audacious Berry. "Anatole, tell thecook to broil a fowl and bring some wine. "

If the loving couple had been alone, or if Cutler had not been anattache to the embassy, before whom she was afraid of making herselfridiculous, I am confident that Mrs. Berry would have fainted away onthe spot; and that all Berry's courage would have tumbled down lifelessby the side of her. So she only gave a martyrised look, and left theroom; and while we partook of the very unnecessary repast, was goodenough to sing some hymn-tunes to an exceedingly slow movement in thenext room, intimating that she was awake, and that, though suffering, she found her consolations in religion. 

These melodies did not in the least add to our friend's courage. Thedevilled fowl had, somehow, no devil in it. The champagne in the glasseslooked exceedingly flat and blue. The fact is, that Cutler and I werenow both in a state of dire consternation, and soon made a move forour hats, and lighting each a cigar in the hall, made across the littlegreen where the Cupids and nymphs were listening to the dribblingfountain in the dark. 

"I'm hanged if I don't have a cigar too!" says Berry, rushing after us;and accordingly putting in his pocket a key about the size of a shovel, which hung by the little handle of the outer grille, forth he sallied, and joined us in our fumigation. 

He stayed with us a couple of hours, and returned homewards in perfectgood spirits, having given me his word of honour he would dine with usthe next day. He put his immense key into the grille, and unlocked it;but the gate would not open: IT WAS BOLTED WITHIN. 

He began to make a furious jangling and ringing at the bell; and inoaths, both French and English, called upon the recalcitrant Anatole. 

After much tolling of the bell, a light came cutting across the crevicesof the inner door; it was thrown open, and a figure appeared with alamp, --a tall slim figure of a woman, clothed in white from head tofoot. 

It was Mrs. Berry, and when Cutler and I saw her, we both ran away asfast as our legs could carry us. 

Berry, at this, shrieked with a wild laughter. "Remember to-morrow, oldboys, " shouted he, --"six o'clock;" and we were a quarter of a mile offwhen the gate closed, and the little mansion of the Avenue de Paris wasonce more quiet and dark. 

The next afternoon, as we were playing at billiards, Cutler saw Mrs. Berry drive by in her carriage; and as soon as rather a long rubber wasover, I thought I would go and look for our poor friend, and so wentdown to the Pavilion. Every door was open, as the wont is in France, andI walked in unannounced, and saw this:

He was playing a duet with her on the flute. She had been out but forhalf-an-hour, after not speaking all the morning; and having seen Cutlerat the billiard-room window, and suspecting we might take advantageof her absence, she had suddenly returned home again, and had flungherself, weeping, into her Frank's arms, and said she could not bear toleave him in anger. And so, after sitting for a little while sobbing onhis knee, she had forgotten and forgiven every thing!

The dear angel! I met poor Frank in Bond Street only yesterday; but hecrossed over to the other side of the way. He had on goloshes, and isgrown very fat and pale. He has shaved off his moustaches, and, instead, wears a respirator. He has taken his name off all his clubs, and livesvery grimly in Baker Street. Well, ladies, no doubt you say he is right:and what are the odds, so long as YOU are happy?

DENNIS HAGGARTY'S WIFE. 

There was an odious Irishwoman who with her daughter used to frequentthe "Royal Hotel" at Leamington some years ago, and who went by the nameof Mrs. Major Gam. Gam had been a distinguished officer in His Majesty'sservice, whom nothing but death and his own amiable wife could overcome. The widow mourned her husband in the most becoming bombazeen she couldmuster, and had at least half an inch of lampblack round the immensevisiting tickets which she left at the houses of the nobility and gentryher friends. 

Some of us, I am sorry to say, used to call her Mrs. Major Gammon; forif the worthy widow had a propensity, it was to talk largely of herselfand family (of her own family, for she held her husband's very cheap), and of the wonders of her paternal mansion, Molloyville, county of Mayo. She was of the Molloys of that county; and though I never heard of thefamily before, I have little doubt, from what Mrs. Major Gam stated, that they were the most ancient and illustrious family of that part ofIreland. I remember there came down to see his aunt a young fellowwith huge red whiskers and tight nankeens, a green coat, and an awfulbreastpin, who, after two days' stay at the Spa, proposed marriage toMiss S----, or, in default, a duel with her father; and who drove aflash curricle with a bay and a grey, and who was presented with muchpride by Mrs. Gam as Castlereagh Molloy of Molloyville. We all agreedthat he was the most insufferable snob of the whole season, and weredelighted when a bailiff came down in search of him. 

Well, this is all I know personally of the Molloyville family; but atthe house if you met the widow Gam, and talked on any subject in life, you were sure to hear of it. If you asked her to have peas at dinner, she would say, "Oh, sir, after the peas at Molloyville, I really don'tcare for any others, --do I, dearest Jemima? We always had a dish in themonth of June, when my father gave his head gardener a guinea (we hadthree at Molloyville), and sent him with his compliments and a quart ofpeas to our neighbour, dear Lord Marrowfat. What a sweet place MarrowfatPark is! isn't it, Jemima?" If a carriage passed by the window, Mrs. Major Gammon would be sure to tell you that there were three carriagesat Molloyville, "the barouche, the chawiot, and the covered cyar. " Inthe same manner she would favour you with the number and names of thefootmen of the establishment; and on a visit to Warwick Castle (for thisbustling woman made one in every party of pleasure that was formed fromthe hotel), she gave us to understand that the great walk by the riverwas altogether inferior to the principal avenue of Molloyville Park. I should not have been able to tell so much about Mrs. Gam and herdaughter, but that, between ourselves, I was particularly sweet upon ayoung lady at the time, whose papa lived at the "Royal, " and was underthe care of Doctor Jephson. 

The Jemima appealed to by Mrs. Gam in the above sentence was, of course, her daughter, apostrophised by her mother, "Jemima, my soul's darling?"or, "Jemima, my blessed child!" or, "Jemima, my own love!" Thesacrifices that Mrs. Gam had made for that daughter were, she said, astonishing. The money she had spent in masters upon her, the illnessesthrough which she had nursed her, the ineffable love the mother boreher, were only known to Heaven, Mrs. Gam said. They used to come intothe room with their arms round each other's waists: at dinner betweenthe courses the mother would sit with one hand locked in her daughter's;and if only two or three young men were present at the time, would bepretty sure to kiss her Jemima more than once during the time whilst thebohea was poured out. 

As for Miss Gam, if she was not handsome, candour forbids me to say shewas ugly. She was neither one nor t'other. She was a person who woreringlets and a band round her forehead; she knew four songs, whichbecame rather tedious at the end of a couple of months' acquaintance;she had excessively bare shoulders; she inclined to wear numbers ofcheap ornaments, rings, brooches, ferronnieres, smelling-bottles, andwas always, we thought, very smartly dressed: though old Mrs. Lynxhinted that her gowns and her mother's were turned over and over again, and that her eyes were almost put out by darning stockings. 

These eyes Miss Gam had very large, though rather red and weak, and usedto roll them about at every eligible unmarried man in the place. Butthough the widow subscribed to all the balls, though she hired a flyto go to the meet of the hounds, though she was constant at church, andJemima sang louder than any person there except the clerk, and though, probably, any person who made her a happy husband would be invited downto enjoy the three footmen, gardeners, and carriages at Molloyville, yetno English gentleman was found sufficiently audacious to propose. Old Lynx used to say that the pair had been at Tunbridge, Harrogate, Brighton, Ramsgate, Cheltenham, for this eight years past; where theyhad met, it seemed, with no better fortune. Indeed, the widow lookedrather high for her blessed child: and as she looked with the contemptwhich no small number of Irish people feel upon all persons who gettheir bread by labour or commerce; and as she was a person whoseenergetic manners, costume, and brogue were not much to the taste ofquiet English country gentlemen, Jemima--sweet, spotless flower--stillremained on her hands, a thought withered, perhaps, and seedy. 

Now, at this time, the 120th Regiment was quartered at Weedon Barracks, and with the corps was a certain Assistant-Surgeon Haggarty, a large, lean, tough, raw-boned man, with big hands, knock-knees, and carrotywhiskers, and, withal, as honest a creature as ever handled a lancet. Haggarty, as his name imports, was of the very same nation as Mrs. Gam, and, what is more, the honest fellow had some of the peculiarities whichbelonged to the widow, and bragged about his family almost as much asshe did. I do not know of what particular part of Ireland they werekings; but monarchs they must have been, as have been the ancestors ofso many thousand Hibernian families; but they had been men of no smallconsideration in Dublin, "where my father, " Haggarty said, "is as wellknown as King William's statue, and where he 'rowls his carriage, too, 'let me tell ye. "

Hence, Haggarty was called by the wags "Rowl the carriage, " and severalof them made inquiries of Mrs. Gam regarding him: "Mrs. Gam, when youused to go up from Molloyville to the Lord Lieutenant's balls, and hadyour townhouse in Fitzwilliam Square, used you to meet the famous DoctorHaggarty in society?"

"Is it Surgeon Haggarty of Gloucester Street ye mean? The black Papist!D'ye suppose that the Molloys would sit down to table with a creature ofthat sort?"

"Why, isn't he the most famous physician in Dublin, and doesn't he rowlhis carriage there?"

"The horrid wretch! He keeps a shop, I tell ye, and sends his sons outwith the medicine. He's got four of them off into the army, Ulick andPhil, and Terence and Denny, and now it's Charles that takes out thephysic. But how should I know about these odious creatures? Their motherwas a Burke, of Burke's Town, county Cavan, and brought Surgeon Haggartytwo thousand pounds. She was a Protestant; and I am surprised how shecould have taken up with a horrid odious Popish apothecary!"

From the extent of the widow's information, I am led to suppose that theinhabitants of Dublin are not less anxious about their neighbours thanare the natives of English cities; and I think it is very probable thatMrs. Gam's account of the young Haggartys who carried out the medicineis perfectly correct, for a lad in the 120th made a caricature ofHaggarty coming out of a chemist's shop with an oilcloth basket underhis arm, which set the worthy surgeon in such a fury that there wouldhave been a duel between him and the ensign, could the fiery doctor havehad his way. 

Now, Dionysius Haggarty was of an exceedingly inflammable temperament, and it chanced that of all the invalids, the visitors, the young squiresof Warwickshire, the young manufacturers from Birmingham, the youngofficers from the barracks--it chanced, unluckily for Miss Gam andhimself, that he was the only individual who was in the least smittenby her personal charms. He was very tender and modest about his love, however, for it must be owned that he respected Mrs. Gam hugely, andfully admitted, like a good simple fellow as he was, the superiority ofthat lady's birth and breeding to his own. How could he hope that he, ahumble assistant-surgeon, with a thousand pounds his Aunt Kitty lefthim for all his fortune--how could he hope that one of the race ofMolloyville would ever condescend to marry him?

Inflamed, however, by love, and inspired by wine, one day at a picnic atKenilworth, Haggarty, whose love and raptures were the talk of the wholeregiment, was induced by his waggish comrades to make a proposal inform. 

"Are you aware, Mr. Haggarty, that you are speaking to a Molloy?"was all the reply majestic Mrs. Gam made when, according to the usualformula, the fluttering Jemima referred her suitor to "Mamma. " She lefthim with a look which was meant to crush the poor fellow to earth; shegathered up her cloak and bonnet, and precipitately called for her fly. She took care to tell every single soul in Leamington that the son ofthe odious Papist apothecary had had the audacity to propose for herdaughter (indeed a proposal, coming from whatever quarter it may, does no harm), and left Haggarty in a state of extreme depression anddespair. 

His down-heartedness, indeed, surprised most of his acquaintances in andout of the regiment, for the young lady was no beauty, and a doubtfulfortune, and Dennis was a man outwardly of an unromantic turn, whoseemed to have a great deal more liking for beefsteak and whisky-punchthan for women, however fascinating. 

But there is no doubt this shy uncouth rough fellow had a warmer andmore faithful heart hid within him than many a dandy who is as handsomeas Apollo. I, for my part, never can understand why a man falls in love, and heartily give him credit for so doing, never mind with what orwhom. THAT I take to be a point quite as much beyond an individual's owncontrol as the catching of the small-pox or the colour of his hair. Tothe surprise of all, Assistant-Surgeon Dionysius Haggarty was deeply andseriously in love; and I am told that one day he very nearly killed thebefore-mentioned young ensign with a carving-knife, for venturing tomake a second caricature, representing Lady Gammon and Jemima in afantastical park, surrounded by three gardeners, three carriages, threefootmen, and the covered cyar. He would have no joking concerning them. He became moody and quarrelsome of habit. He was for some time much morein the surgery and hospital than in the mess. He gave up the eating, forthe most part, of those vast quantities of beef and pudding, for whichhis stomach used to afford such ample and swift accommodation; and whenthe cloth was drawn, instead of taking twelve tumblers, and singingIrish melodies, as he used to do, in a horrible cracked yelling voice, he would retire to his own apartment, or gloomily pace the barrack-yard, or madly whip and spur a grey mare he had on the road to Leamington, where his Jemima (although invisible for him) still dwelt. 

The season at Leamington coming to a conclusion by the withdrawal of theyoung fellows who frequented that watering-place, the widow Gam retiredto her usual quarters for the other months of the year. Where thesequarters were, I think we have no right to ask, for I believe she hadquarrelled with her brother at Molloyville, and besides, was a greatdeal too proud to be a burden on anybody. 

Not only did the widow quit Leamington, but very soon afterwards the120th received its marching orders, and left Weedon and Warwickshire. Haggarty's appetite was by this time partially restored, but his lovewas not altered, and his humour was still morose and gloomy. I aminformed that at this period of his life he wrote some poems relative tohis unhappy passion; a wild set of verses of several lengths, and inhis handwriting, being discovered upon a sheet of paper in which apitch-plaster was wrapped up, which Lieutenant and Adjutant Wheezer wascompelled to put on for a cold. 

Fancy then, three years afterwards, the surprise of all Haggarty'sacquaintances on reading in the public papers the followingannouncement:

"Married, at Monkstown on the 12th instant, Dionysius Haggarty, Esq. , of H. M. 120th Foot, to Jemima Amelia Wilhelmina Molloy, daughter of thelate Major Lancelot Gam, R. M. , and granddaughter of the late, and nieceof the present Burke Bodkin Blake Molloy, Esq. , Molloyville, countyMayo. "

"Has the course of true love at last begun to run smooth?" thought I, asI laid down the paper; and the old times, and the old leering braggingwidow, and the high shoulders of her daughter, and the jolly days withthe 120th, and Doctor Jephson's one-horse chaise, and the Warwickshirehunt, and--and Louisa S----, but never mind HER, --came back to my mind. Has that good-natured simple fellow at last met with his reward? Well, if he has not to marry the mother-in-law too, he may get on well enough. 

Another year announced the retirement of Assistant-Surgeon Haggartyfrom the 120th, where he was replaced by Assistant-Surgeon AngusRothsay Leech, a Scotchman, probably; with whom I have not the leastacquaintance, and who has nothing whatever to do with this littlehistory. 

Still more years passed on, during which time I will not say that I kepta constant watch upon the fortunes of Mr. Haggarty and his lady; for, perhaps, if the truth were known, I never thought for a moment aboutthem; until one day, being at Kingstown, near Dublin, dawdling onthe beach, and staring at the Hill of Howth, as most people at thatwatering-place do, I saw coming towards me a tall gaunt man, with a pairof bushy red whiskers, of which I thought I had seen the like in formeryears, and a face which could be no other than Haggarty's. It wasHaggarty, ten years older than when we last met, and greatly more grimand thin. He had on one shoulder a young gentleman in a dirty tartancostume, and a face exceedingly like his own peeping from under abattered plume of black feathers, while with his other hand he wasdragging a light green go-cart, in which reposed a female infant of sometwo years old. Both were roaring with great power of lungs. 

As soon as Dennis saw me, his face lost the dull puzzled expressionwhich had seemed to characterise it; he dropped the pole of the go-cartfrom one hand, and his son from the other, and came jumping forward togreet me with all his might, leaving his progeny roaring in the road. 

"Bless my sowl, " says he, "sure it's Fitz-Boodle? Fitz, don't youremember me? Dennis Haggarty of the 120th? Leamington, you know? Molloy, my boy, hould your tongue, and stop your screeching, and Jemima's too;d'ye hear? Well, it does good to sore eyes to see an old face. How fatyou're grown, Fitz; and were ye ever in Ireland before? and a'n't yedelighted with it? Confess, now, isn't it beautiful?"

This question regarding the merits of their country, which I haveremarked is put by most Irish persons, being answered in a satisfactorymanner, and the shouts of the infants appeased from an apple-stallhard by, Dennis and I talked of old times; I congratulated him on hismarriage with the lovely girl whom we all admired, and hoped he had afortune with her, and so forth. His appearance, however, did not bespeaka great fortune: he had an old grey hat, short old trousers, an oldwaistcoat with regimental buttons, and patched Blucher boots, such asare not usually sported by persons in easy life. 

"Ah!" says he, with a sigh, in reply to my queries, "times are changedsince them days, Fitz-Boodle. My wife's not what she was--the beautifulcreature you knew her. Molloy, my boy, run off in a hurry to your mamma, and tell her an English gentleman is coming home to dine; for you'lldine with me, Fitz, in course?" And I agreed to partake of that meal;though Master Molloy altogether declined to obey his papa's orders withrespect to announcing the stranger. 

"Well, I must announce you myself, " said Haggarty, with a smile. "Come, it's just dinner-time, and my little cottage is not a hundred yardsoff. " Accordingly, we all marched in procession to Dennis's littlecottage, which was one of a row and a half of one-storied houses, withlittle courtyards before them, and mostly with very fine names on thedoorposts of each. "Surgeon Haggarty" was emblazoned on Dennis's gate, on a stained green copper-plate; and, not content with this, on thedoor-post above the bell was an oval with the inscription of "NewMolloyville. " The bell was broken, of course; the court, or garden-path, was mouldy, weedy, seedy; there were some dirty rocks, by way ofornament, round a faded glass-plat in the centre, some clothes andrags hanging out of most part of the windows of New Molloyville, theimmediate entrance to which was by a battered scraper, under a brokentrellis-work, up which a withered creeper declined any longer to climb. 

"Small, but snug, " says Haggarty: "I'll lead the way, Fitz; put your haton the flower-pot there, and turn to the left into the drawing-room. "A fog of onions and turf-smoke filled the whole of the house, and gavesigns that dinner was not far off. Far off? You could hear it frizzlingin the kitchen, where the maid was also endeavouring to hush the cryingof a third refractory child. But as we entered, all three of Haggarty'sdarlings were in full roar. 

"Is it you, Dennis?" cried a sharp raw voice, from a dark corner inthe drawing-room to which we were introduced, and in which a dirtytablecloth was laid for dinner, some bottles of porter and a coldmutton-bone being laid out on a rickety grand piano hard by. "Ye'realways late, Mr. Haggarty. Have you brought the whisky from Nowlan's?I'll go bail ye've not, now. "

"My dear, I've brought an old friend of yours and mine to take pot-luckwith us to-day, " said Dennis. 

"When is he to come?" said the lady. At which speech I was rathersurprised, for I stood before her. 

"Here he is, Jemima my love, " answered Dennis, looking at me. "Mr. Fitz-Boodle: don't you remember him in Warwickshire, darling?"

"Mr. Fitz-Boodle! I am very glad to see him, " said the lady, rising andcurtseying with much cordiality. 

Mrs. Haggarty was blind. 

Mrs. Haggarty was not only blind, but it was evident that smallpoxhad been the cause of her loss of vision. Her eyes were bound with abandage, her features were entirely swollen, scarred and distorted bythe horrible effects of the malady. She had been knitting in a cornerwhen we entered, and was wrapped in a very dirty bedgown. Her voice tome was quite different to that in which she addressed her husband. Shespoke to Haggarty in broad Irish: she addressed me in that most odiousof all languages--Irish-English, endeavouring to the utmost to disguiseher brogue, and to speak with the true dawdling distingue English air. 

"Are you long in I-a-land?" said the poor creature in this accent. "Youmust faind it a sad ba'ba'ous place, Mr Fitz-Boodle, I'm shu-ah! It wasvary kaind of you to come upon us en famille, and accept a dinner sansceremonie. Mr. Haggarty, I hope you'll put the waine into aice, Mr. Fitz-Boodle must be melted with this hot weathah. "

For some time she conducted the conversation in this polite strain, andI was obliged to say, in reply to a query of hers, that I did not findher the least altered, though I should never have recognised her but forthis rencontre. She told Haggarty with a significant air to get the winefrom the cellah, and whispered to me that he was his own butlah; and thepoor fellow, taking the hint, scudded away into the town for a pound ofbeefsteak and a couple of bottles of wine from the tavern. 

"Will the childhren get their potatoes and butther here?" said abarefoot girl, with long black hair flowing over her face, which shethrust in at the door. 

"Let them sup in the nursery, Elizabeth, and send--ah! Edwards to me. "

"Is it cook you mane, ma'am?" said the girl. 

"Send her at once!" shrieked the unfortunate woman; and the noise offrying presently ceasing, a hot woman made her appearance, wiping herbrows with her apron, and asking, with an accent decidedly Hibernian, what the misthress wanted. 

"Lead me up to my dressing-room, Edwards: I really am not fit to be seenin this dishabille by Mr. Fitz-Boodle. "

"Fait' I can't!" says Edwards; "sure the masther's at the butcher's, andcan't look to the kitchen-fire!"

"Nonsense, I must go!" cried Mrs. Haggarty; and Edwards, putting on aresigned air, and giving her arm and face a further rub with her apron, held out her arm to Mrs. Dennis, and the pair went upstairs. 

She left me to indulge my reflections for half-an-hour, at the end ofwhich period she came downstairs dressed in an old yellow satin, withthe poor shoulders exposed just as much as ever. She had mounted atawdry cap, which Haggarty himself must have selected for her. She hadall sorts of necklaces, bracelets, and earrings in gold, in garnets, in mother-of-pearl, in ormolu. She brought in a furious savour of musk, which drove the odours of onions and turf-smoke before it; and shewaved across her wretched angular mean scarred features an old cambrichandkerchief with a yellow lace-border. 

"And so you would have known me anywhere, Mr. Fitz-Boodle?" said she, with a grin that was meant to be most fascinating. "I was sure youwould; for though my dreadful illness deprived me of my sight, it is amercy that it did not change my features or complexion at all!"

This mortification had been spared the unhappy woman; but I don'tknow whether, with all her vanity, her infernal pride, folly, andselfishness, it was charitable to leave her in her error. 

Yet why correct her? There is a quality in certain people which isabove all advice, exposure, or correction. Only let a man or woman haveDULNESS sufficient, and they need bow to no extant authority. A dullardrecognises no betters; a dullard can't see that he is in the wrong;a dullard has no scruples of conscience, no doubts of pleasing, orsucceeding, or doing right; no qualms for other people's feelings, norespect but for the fool himself. How can you make a fool perceive he isa fool? Such a personage can no more see his own folly than he can seehis own ears. And the great quality of Dulness is to be unalterablycontented with itself. What myriads of souls are there of this admirablesort, --selfish, stingy, ignorant, passionate, brutal; bad sons, mothers, fathers, never known to do kind actions!

To pause, however, in this disquisition, which was carrying us far offKingstown, New Molloyville, Ireland--nay, into the wide world whereverDulness inhabits--let it be stated that Mrs. Haggarty, from my briefacquaintance with her and her mother, was of the order of persons justmentioned. There was an air of conscious merit about her, very hard toswallow along with the infamous dinner poor Dennis managed, aftermuch delay, to get on the table. She did not fail to invite me toMolloyville, where she said her cousin would be charmed to see me; andshe told me almost as many anecdotes about that place as her mother usedto impart in former days. I observed, moreover, that Dennis cut herthe favourite pieces of the beefsteak, that she ate thereof with greatgusto, and that she drank with similar eagerness of the various strongliquors at table. "We Irish ladies are all fond of a leetle glass ofpunch, " she said, with a playful air, and Dennis mixed her a powerfultumbler of such violent grog as I myself could swallow only with somedifficulty. She talked of her suffering a great deal, of her sacrifices, of the luxuries to which she had been accustomed before marriage, --ina word, of a hundred of those themes on which some ladies are in thecustom of enlarging when they wish to plague some husbands. 

But honest Dennis, far from being angry at this perpetual, wearisome, impudent recurrence to her own superiority, rather encouraged theconversation than otherwise. It pleased him to hear his wife discourseabout her merits and family splendours. He was so thoroughly beatendown and henpecked, that he, as it were, gloried in his servitude, andfancied that his wife's magnificence reflected credit on himself. Helooked towards me, who was half sick of the woman and her egotism, asif expecting me to exhibit the deepest sympathy, and flung me glancesacross the table as much as to say, "What a gifted creature my Jemimais, and what a fine fellow I am to be in possession of her!" When thechildren came down she scolded them, of course, and dismissed themabruptly (for which circumstance, perhaps, the writer of these pageswas not in his heart very sorry), and, after having sat a preposterouslylong time, left us, asking whether we would have coffee there or in herboudoir. 

"Oh! here, of course, " said Dennis, with rather a troubled air, andin about ten minutes the lovely creature was led back to us again by"Edwards, " and the coffee made its appearance. After coffee her husbandbegged her to let Mr. Fitz-Boodle hear her voice: "He longs for some ofhis old favourites. "

"No! DO you?" said she; and was led in triumph to the jingling oldpiano, and with a screechy wiry voice, sang those very abominable oldditties which I had heard her sing at Leamington ten years back. 

Haggarty, as she sang, flung himself back in the chair delighted. Husbands always are, and with the same song, one that they have heardwhen they were nineteen years old probably; most Englishmen's tunes havethat date, and it is rather affecting, I think, to hear an old gentlemanof sixty or seventy quavering the old ditty that was fresh when HE wasfresh and in his prime. If he has a musical wife, depend on it he thinksher old songs of 1788 are better than any he has heard since: in facthe has heard NONE since. When the old couple are in high good-humour theold gentleman will take the old lady round the waist, and say, "My dear, do sing me one of your own songs, " and she sits down and sings with herold voice, and, as she sings, the roses of her youth bloom again for amoment. Ranelagh resuscitates, and she is dancing a minuet in powder anda train. 

This is another digression. It was occasioned by looking at poorDennis's face while his wife was screeching (and, believe me, the formerwas the more pleasant occupation). Bottom tickled by the fairies couldnot have been in greater ecstasies. He thought the music was divine;and had further reason for exulting in it, which was, that his wife wasalways in a good humour after singing, and never would sing but in thathappy frame of mind. Dennis had hinted so much in our little colloquyduring the ten minutes of his lady's absence in the "boudoir;" so, atthe conclusion of each piece, we shouted "Bravo!" and clapped our handslike mad. 

Such was my insight into the life of Surgeon Dionysius Haggarty and hiswife; and I must have come upon him at a favourable moment too, for poorDennis has spoken, subsequently, of our delightful evening at Kingstown, and evidently thinks to this day that his friend was fascinated bythe entertainment there. His inward economy was as follows: he had hishalf-pay, a thousand pounds, about a hundred a year that his fatherleft, and his wife had sixty pounds a year from the mother; which themother, of course, never paid. He had no practice, for he was absorbedin attention to his Jemima and the children, whom he used to wash, todress, to carry out, to walk, or to ride, as we have seen, and whocould not have a servant, as their dear blind mother could never be leftalone. Mrs. Haggarty, a great invalid, used to lie in bed till one, andhave breakfast and hot luncheon there. A fifth part of his income wasspent in having her wheeled about in a chair, by which it was his dutyto walk daily for an allotted number of hours. Dinner would ensue, andthe amateur clergy, who abound in Ireland, and of whom Mrs. Haggartywas a great admirer, lauded her everywhere as a model of resignation andvirtue, and praised beyond measure the admirable piety with which shebore her sufferings. 

Well, every man to his taste. It did not certainly appear to me that SHEwas the martyr of the family. 

"The circumstances of my marriage with Jemima, " Dennis said to me, insome after conversations we had on this interesting subject, "were themost romantic and touching you can conceive. You saw what an impressionthe dear girl had made upon me when we were at Weedon; for from thefirst day I set eyes on her, and heard her sing her delightful song of'Dark-eyed Maiden of Araby, ' I felt, and said to Turniquet of ours, thatvery night, that SHE was the dark-eyed maid of Araby for ME--not thatshe was, you know, for she was born in Shropshire. But I felt that I hadseen the woman who was to make me happy or miserable for life. You knowhow I proposed for her at Kenilworth, and how I was rejected, and how Ialmost shot myself in consequence--no, you don't know that, for I saidnothing about it to anyone, but I can tell you it was a very near thing;and a very lucky thing for me I didn't do it: for, --would you believeit?--the dear girl was in love with me all the time. "

"Was she really?" said I, who recollected that Miss Gam's love of thosedays showed itself in a very singular manner; but the fact is, whenwomen are most in love they most disguise it. 

"Over head and ears in love with poor Dennis, " resumed that worthyfellow, "who'd ever have thought it? But I have it from the bestauthority, from her own mother, with whom I'm not over and above goodfriends now; but of this fact she assured me, and I'll tell you when andhow. 

"We were quartered at Cork three years after we were at Weedon, and itwas our last year at home; and a great mercy that my dear girl spokein time, or where should we have been now? Well, one day, marchinghome from parade, I saw a lady seated at an open window, by another whoseemed an invalid, and the lady at the window, who was dressed in theprofoundest mourning, cried out, with a scream, 'Gracious, heavens! it'sMr. Haggarty of the 120th. '

"'Sure I know that voice, ' says I to Whiskerton. 

"'It's a great mercy you don't know it a deal too well, ' says he: 'it'sLady Gammon. She's on some husband-hunting scheme, depend on it, forthat daughter of hers. She was at Bath last year on the same errand, andat Cheltenham the year before, where, Heaven bless you! she's as wellknown as the "Hen and Chickens. "'

"'I'll thank you not to speak disrespectfully of Miss Jemima Gam, ' saidI to Whiskerton; 'she's of one of the first families in Ireland, andwhoever says a word against a woman I once proposed for, insults me, --doyou understand?'

"'Well, marry her, if you like, ' says Whiskerton, quite peevish: 'marryher, and be hanged!'

"Marry her! the very idea of it set my brain a-whirling, and made me athousand times more mad than I am by nature. 

"You may be sure I walked up the hill to the parade-ground thatafternoon, and with a beating heart too. I came to the widow's house. Itwas called 'New Molloyville, ' as this is. Wherever she takes a house forsix months she calls it 'New Molloyville;' and has had one in Mallow, in Bandon, in Sligo, in Castlebar, in Fermoy, in Drogheda, and the deuceknows where besides: but the blinds were down, and though I thought Isaw somebody behind 'em, no notice was taken of poor Denny Haggarty, and I paced up and down all mess-time in hopes of catching a glimpse ofJemima, but in vain. The next day I was on the ground again; I was justas much in love as ever, that's the fact. I'd never been in that waybefore, look you; and when once caught, I knew it was for life. 

"There's no use in telling you how long I beat about the bush, but whenI DID get admittance to the house (it was through the means of youngCastlereagh Molloy, whom you may remember at Leamington, and who wasat Cork for the regatta, and used to dine at our mess, and had taken amighty fancy to me)--when I DID get into the house, I say, I rushed inmedias res at once; I couldn't keep myself quiet, my heart was too full. 

"Oh, Fitz! I shall never forget the day, --the moment I was inthrojuicedinto the dthrawing-room" (as he began to be agitated, Dennis's broguebroke out with greater richness than ever; but though a stranger maycatch, and repeat from memory, a few words, it is next to impossible forhim to KEEP UP A CONVERSATION in Irish, so that we had best give up allattempts to imitate Dennis). "When I saw old mother Gam, " said he, "myfeelings overcame me all at once. I rowled down on the ground, sir, asif I'd been hit by a musket-ball. 'Dearest madam, ' says I, 'I'll die ifyou don't give me Jemima. '

"'Heavens, Mr. Haggarty!' says she, 'how you seize me with surprise!Castlereagh, my dear nephew, had you not better leave us?' and away hewent, lighting a cigar, and leaving me still on the floor. 

"'Rise, Mr. Haggarty, ' continued the widow. 'I will not attempt to denythat this constancy towards my daughter is extremely affecting, howeversudden your present appeal may be. I will not attempt to deny that, perhaps, Jemima may have a similar feeling; but, as I said, I nevercould give my daughter to a Catholic. '

"'I'm as good a Protestant as yourself, ma'am, ' says I; 'my mother wasan heiress, and we were all brought up her way. '

"'That makes the matter very different, ' says she, turning up the whitesof her eyes. 'How could I ever have reconciled it to my conscience tosee my blessed child married to a Papist? How could I ever have takenhim to Molloyville? Well, this obstacle being removed, _I_ must putmyself no longer in the way between two young people. _I_ must sacrificemyself; as I always have when my darling girl was in question. YOU shallsee her, the poor dear lovely gentle sufferer, and learn your fate fromher own lips. '

"'The sufferer, ma'am, ' says I; 'has Miss Gam been ill?'

"'What! haven't you heard?' cried the widow. 'Haven't you heard of thedreadful illness which so nearly carried her from me? For nine weeks, Mr. Haggarty, I watched her day and night, without taking a wink ofsleep, --for nine weeks she lay trembling between death and life; and Ipaid the doctor eighty-three guineas. She is restored now; but she isthe wreck of the beautiful creature she was. Suffering, and, perhaps, ANOTHER DISAPPOINTMENT--but we won't mention that NOW--have so pulledher down. But I will leave you, and prepare my sweet girl for thisstrange, this entirely unexpected visit. '

"I won't tell you what took place between me and Jemima, to whom I wasintroduced as she sat in the darkened room, poor sufferer! nor describeto you with what a thrill of joy I seized (after groping about for it)her poor emaciated hand. She did not withdraw it; I came out of thatroom an engaged man, sir; and NOW I was enabled to show her that I hadalways loved her sincerely, for there was my will, made three yearsback, in her favour: that night she refused me, as I told ye. I wouldhave shot myself, but they'd have brought me in non compos; and mybrother Mick would have contested the will, and so I determined to live, in order that she might benefit by my dying. I had but a thousand poundsthen: since that my father has left me two more. I willed every shillingto her, as you may fancy, and settled it upon her when we married, as wedid soon after. It was not for some time that I was allowed to seethe poor girl's face, or, indeed, was aware of the horrid loss she hadsustained. Fancy my agony, my dear fellow, when I saw that beautifulwreck!"

There was something not a little affecting to think, in the conduct ofthis brave fellow, that he never once, as he told his story, seemed toallude to the possibility of his declining to marry a woman who was notthe same as the woman he loved; but that he was quite as faithful toher now, as he had been when captivated by the poor tawdry charms of thesilly Miss of Leamington. It was hard that such a noble heart as thisshould be flung away upon yonder foul mass of greedy vanity. Was ithard, or not, that he should remain deceived in his obstinate humility, and continue to admire the selfish silly being whom he had chosen toworship?

"I should have been appointed surgeon of the regiment, " continuedDennis, "soon after, when it was ordered abroad to Jamaica, where it nowis. But my wife would not hear of going, and said she would break herheart if she left her mother. So I retired on half-pay, and took thiscottage; and in case any practice should fall in my way--why, there ismy name on the brass plate, and I'm ready for anything that comes. Butthe only case that ever DID come was one day when I was driving my wifein the chaise; and another, one night, of a beggar with a broken head. My wife makes me a present of a baby every year, and we've no debts; andbetween you and me and the post, as long as my mother-in-law is out ofthe house, I'm as happy as I need be. "

"What! you and the old lady don't get on well?" said I. 

"I can't say we do; it's not in nature, you know, " said Dennis, with afaint grin. "She comes into the house, and turns it topsy-turvy. Whenshe's here I'm obliged to sleep in the scullery. She's never paid herdaughter's income since the first year, though she brags about hersacrifices as if she had ruined herself for Jemima; and besides, whenshe's here, there's a whole clan of the Molloys, horse, foot, anddragoons, that are quartered upon us, and eat me out of house and home. "

"And is Molloyville such a fine place as the widow described it?" askedI, laughing, and not a little curious. 

"Oh, a mighty fine place entirely!" said Dennis. "There's the oak parkof two hundred acres, the finest land ye ever saw, only they've cut allthe wood down. The garden in the old Molloys' time, they say, was thefinest ever seen in the West of Ireland; but they've taken all the glassto mend the house windows: and small blame to them either. There's aclear rent-roll of thirty-five hundred a year, only it's in the hand ofreceivers; besides other debts, for which there is no land security. "

"Your cousin-in-law, Castlereagh Molloy, won't come into a largefortune?"

"Oh, he'll do very well, " said Dennis. "As long as he can get credit, he's not the fellow to stint himself. Faith, I was fool enough to put myname to a bit of paper for him, and as they could not catch him in Mayo, they laid hold of me at Kingstown here. And there was a pretty to do. Didn't Mrs. Gam say I was ruining her family, that's all? I paid it byinstalments (for all my money is settled on Jemima); and Castlereagh, who's an honourable fellow, offered me any satisfaction in life. Anyhow, he couldn't do more than THAT. "

"Of course not: and now you're friends?"

"Yes, and he and his aunt have had a tiff, too; and he abuses herproperly, I warrant ye. He says that she carried about Jemima from placeto place, and flung her at the head of every unmarried man in Englanda'most--my poor Jemima, and she all the while dying in love with me!As soon as she got over the small-pox--she took it at Fermoy--God blessher, I wish I'd been by to be her nurse-tender--as soon as she wasrid of it, the old lady said to Castlereagh, 'Castlereagh, go to thebar'cks, and find out in the Army List where the 120th is. ' Off she cameto Cork hot foot. It appears that while she was ill, Jemima's love forme showed itself in such a violent way that her mother was overcome, andpromised that, should the dear child recover, she would try and bring ustogether. Castlereagh says she would have gone after us to Jamaica. "

"I have no doubt she would, " said I. 

"Could you have a stronger proof of love than that?" cried Dennis. "Mydear girl's illness and frightful blindness have, of course, injured herhealth and her temper. She cannot in her position look to the children, you know, and so they come under my charge for the most part; and hertemper is unequal, certainly. But you see what a sensitive, refined, elegant creature she is, and may fancy that she's often put out by arough fellow like me. "

Here Dennis left me, saying it was time to go and walk out the children;and I think his story has matter of some wholesome reflection in it forbachelors who are about to change their condition, or may console somewho are mourning their celibacy. Marry, gentlemen, if you like; leaveyour comfortable dinner at the club for cold-mutton and curl-papers atyour home; give up your books or pleasures, and take to yourselves wivesand children; but think well on what you do first, as I have no doubtyou will after this advice and example. Advice is always useful inmatters of love; men always take it; they always follow other people'sopinions, not their own: they always profit by example. When they see apretty woman, and feel the delicious madness of love coming over them, they always stop to calculate her temper, her money, their own money, or suitableness for the married life. .. . Ha, ha, ha! Let us fool in thisway no more. I have been in love forty-three times with all ranks andconditions of women, and would have married every time if they wouldhave let me. How many wives had King Solomon, the wisest of men? And isnot that story a warning to us that Love is master of the wisest? It isonly fools who defy him. 

I must come, however, to the last, and perhaps the saddest, part of poorDenny Haggarty's history. I met him once more, and in such a conditionas made me determine to write this history. 

In the month of June last I happened to be at Richmond, a delightfullittle place of retreat; and there, sunning himself upon the terrace, was my old friend of the 120th: he looked older, thinner, poorer, and more wretched than I had ever seen him. "What! you have given upKingstown?" said I, shaking him by the hand. 

"Yes, " says he. 

"And is my lady and your family here at Richmond?"

"No, " says he, with a sad shake of the head; and the poor fellow'shollow eyes filled with tears. 

"Good heavens, Denny! what's the matter?" said I. He was squeezing myhand like a vice as I spoke. 

"They've LEFT me!" he burst out with a dreadful shout of passionategrief--a horrible scream which seemed to be wrenched out of his heart. "Left me!" said he, sinking down on a seat, and clenching his greatfists, and shaking his lean arms wildly. "I'm a wise man now, Mr. Fitz-Boodle. Jemima has gone away from me, and yet you know how I lovedher, and how happy we were! I've got nobody now; but I'll die soon, that's one comfort: and to think it's she that'll kill me after all!"

The story, which he told with a wild and furious lamentation such as isnot known among men of our cooler country, and such as I don't like nowto recall, was a very simple one. The mother-in-law had taken possessionof the house, and had driven him from it. His property at his marriagewas settled on his wife. She had never loved him, and told him thissecret at last, and drove him out of doors with her selfish scorn andill-temper. The boy had died; the girls were better, he said, brought upamong the Molloys than they could be with him; and so he was quite alonein the world, and was living, or rather dying, on forty pounds a year. 

His troubles are very likely over by this time. The two fools who causedhis misery will never read this history of him; THEY never read godlessstories in magazines: and I wish, honest reader, that you and I went tochurch as much as they do. These people are not wicked BECAUSE oftheir religious observances, but IN SPITE of them. They are too dull tounderstand humility, too blind to see a tender and simple heart undera rough ungainly bosom. They are sure that all their conduct towards mypoor friend here has been perfectly righteous, and that they have givenproofs of the most Christian virtue. Haggarty's wife is considered byher friends as a martyr to a savage husband, and her mother is the angelthat has come to rescue her. All they did was to cheat him and deserthim. And safe in that wonderful self-complacency with which the foolsof this earth are endowed, they have not a single pang of conscience fortheir villany towards him, consider their heartlessness as a proof andconsequence of their spotless piety and virtue. 

FOOTNOTES

[Footnote 1: The words of this song are copyright, nor will thecopyright be sold for less than twopence-halfpenny. ]

[Footnote 2: A French proverbe furnished the author with the notion ofthe rivalry between the Barber and the Tailor. ]

[Footnote 3: As it is very probable that many fair readers may notapprove of the extremely forcible language in which the combat isdepicted, I beg them to skip it and pass on to the next chapter, and toremember that it has been modelled on the style of the very best writersof the sporting papers. ]

[Footnote 4: Every person who has lived abroad can, of course, point outa score of honourable exceptions to the case above hinted at, and knowsmany such unions in which it is the Frenchman who honours the Englishlady by marrying her. But it must be remembered that marrying in Francemeans commonly fortune-hunting: and as for the respect in which marriageis held in France, let all the French novels in M. Rolandi's library beperused by those who wish to come to a decision upon the question. ]