SKETCHES BY SEYMOUR Part 2. SCENE IX. "Shoot away, Bill! never mind the old woman--she can't get over the wallto us. " One day two urchins gotA pistol, powder, horn, and shot, And proudly forth they wentOn sport intent. "Oh, Tom! if we should shoot a hare, "Cried one, The elder son, "How father, sure, would stare!"Look there! what's that?""Why, as I live, a cat, "Cried Bill, "'tis mother Tibbs' tabby;Oh! what a larkShe loves it like a babby!And ain't a cat's eye, Tom, as good a markAs any bull's eyes?"And straight "Puss! puss!" he cries, When, lo! as Puss approaches, They hear a squall, And see a head and fist above the wall. 'Tis tabby's mistressWho in great distressLoads both the urchins with her loud reproaches, "You little villains! will ye shoot my cat?Here, Tink! Tink! Tink!O! lor' a' mercy! I shall surely sink, Tink! Tink!"Tink hears her voice--and hearing that, Trots nearer with a pit-a-pat!"Now, Bill, present and fire, There's a bold 'un, And send the tabby to the old 'un. "Bang! went the pistol, and in the mireRolled Tink without a mew--Flop! fell his mistress in a stew!While Bill and Tom both fled, Leaving the accomplish'd Tink quite finish'd, For Bill had actually diminish'dThe feline favorite by a head!Leaving his undone mistress to bewail, In deepest woe, And to her gossips to relateHer tabby's fate. This was her only consolation--for altho'She could not tell the head--she could the tail! SCENE X. SEPTEMBER 1ST, --AN ONLY OPPORTUNITY. "I begin to think I may as well go back. " MY vig! vat a pelter this is--Enough all my hardour to tame;In veather like this there's no sport, It's too much in earnest for game! A ladle, I might as well be, Chain'd fast to a hold parish pump, For, by goles! it comes tumbling down, Like vinking, --and all of a lump. The birds to their nestes is gone, I can't see no woodcock, nor snipe;My dog he looks dogged and dull, My leggins is flabby as tripe! The moors is all slipp'ry slush, I'm up to the neck in the mire;I don't see no chance of a shot, And I long-how I long for a fire! For my clothes is all soak'd, and they stickAs close as a bailiff to meOh! I wish I was out o' this here, And at home with my mother at tea! This is the fust, as I've gotPermission from uncle to shoot;He hadn't no peace till he giveThis piece, and the powder to boot! And vat's it all come to at last?--There isn't no chance of a hit, I feel the rain's all down my back, In my mouth though I hav'n't a bit! O! it's werry wezaatious indeed!For I shan't have another day soon;But I'm blow'd, if I don't have a pop--My eye! I've shot Dash! vot a spoon! O! here's a partic'lar mess, Vot vill mother say to me now?For he vas her lap-dog and pet, Oh! I've slaughtered her darling bow-wow! SCENE XI. "Mother says fishes comes from hard roes, so I chuck'd in the roe of ared-herring last week, but I doesn't catch any fish yet. " How beautiful is the simplicity of unsophisticated youth! Behold withwhat patience this innocent awaits a bite, trusting with perfect faith inthe truth of his affectionate mother's ichthyological knowledge. Wishingto behold a live fish dangling at the end of his line, he has, withadmirable foresight, drawn up the bucket, that in the ascent the finnyprey may not kick it! It must be a hard roe indeed, that is not softenedby his attentions; but, alas! he is doomed never to draw up a vulgarherring, or a well-bred fish! Folks who are a little deeper read than the boy--(or the herring!)--maysmile at his fruitless attempt, but how many are there that act throughlife upon the same principle, casting their lines and fishingfor--compliments, who never obtain even a nibble--for why? their attemptsat applause, like his red-herring, are smoked. He does not know thatherrings are salt-water fish--and, in fact, that the well-water is notthe roes--water! But after all, is not such ignorance bliss?--for he enjoys theanticipated pleasure; and if anticipation be really greater than reality--what an interminable length will that pleasure be to him! Ever andanon he draws up his line, like a militia captain for a review;--putsfresh bait on the crooked pin, and lets it slowly down, and peeps in, wondering what the fish can be at!--and is quite as much in the dark ashis float. But he may at last, perhaps, discover that he is not so deepas a well--and wisely resolve to let well--alone; two points which mayprobably be of infinite importance to him through life, and enable him toturn the laugh against those who now mock his ignorance and simplicity. SCENE XII. Ambition. "He was ambitious, and I slew him. " What carried Captain Ross to the North Pole? "A ship to be sure!"exclaims some matter-of-fact gentleman. Reader! It was AMBITION! What made barber Ross survey the poll, make wigs, and puff away even whenpowder was exploded? What caused him to seek the applause of the 'nobs'among the cockneys, and struggle to obtain the paradoxical triplicatedictum that he was a werry first-rate cutter!' What made him a practicalTory? (for he boasts of turning out the best wigs in the country!) What induces men to turn theatrical managers when a beggarly account ofempty boxes nightly proves the Drama is at a discount--all benefitsvisionary, and the price of admission is regarded as a tax, and theperformers as ex-actors?----when they get scarcely enough to pay forlights, and yet burn their fingers?--AMBITION The candidate for the county cringes, and flatters the greasy unwashedten-pounders, in order to get at the head of the poll--so likewise thebumpkin (in imitation of his superior) rubs his hand in the dirt toenable him to cling fast, and reach the top of the soap'd poll, whereonthe tempting prize is displayed. And, what prompts them both to thecontest?--AMBITION! What is the 'primum mobile, ' of the adventurous Aeronaut, Mr. Green, oneof the most rising men of the day, who aspires even unto the very clouds, and in his elevation looks upon all men of woman born as far beneathhim?--AMBITION! What prompts the soldier who spends half-a-crown out of sixpence a-day tothrust his head into the cannon's mouth, to convince the world that he isdesirous of obtaining a good report and that he is fearless of thecharge?--AMBITION! What makes the beardless school-boy leap ditches and over posts at therisk of his neck, and boast that he'll do another's dags'--or thesporting man turn good horses into filthy dog's meat, in riding so manymiles in so many minutes?--AMBITION! What magic influence operates upon the senses of the barrister (a scholarand a gentleman) to exert his winning eloquence and ingenuity in thecause of a client, who, in his conscience, he knows to be both morallyand legally unworthy of the luminous defence put forth to prove thetrembling culprit more sinned against than sinning?--AMBITION! What urges the vulgar costermonger to bestride his long-ear'd Arabian, and belabor his panting sides with merciless stick and iron-shod heels toimpel him to the goal in the mimic race--or the sleek and polish'dcourtier to lick the dust of his superiors' feet to obtain a paltryriband or a star?--AMBITION! SCENE XIII. Better luck next time. The lamentation of Joe Grishin. "O! Molly! Molly! ven I popp'd my chops through the arey railings, andseed you smile, I thought you vos mine for ever! I wentur'd all for you--all--. It war'n't no great stake p'r'aps, but it was a tender vun! Ioffer'd you a heart verbally, and you said 'No!' I writ this erewollentine, and you returns it vith a big 'No!' "O! Molly your 'No's, ' is more piercinger and crueller than your heyes. Me! to be used so:--Me! as refused the vidder at the Coal Shed! (to besure she wore a vig and I didn't vant a bald rib!) Me!--but it's o' nouse talking; von may as vell make love to a lamp-post, and expect to feedvon's flame vith lights! But adoo to life; this 'ere rope, fix'd roundthe 'best end o' the neck' will soon scrap me, and ven I'm as dead asmutton, p'r'aps you may be werry sorry. "It'll be too late then, Molly, ven you've led me to the halter, to vishas you'd married me. " After this bitter burst of wounded feeling, and, urged by the rejectionof his addresses, the love-lorn Butcher mounted a joint-stool, andstepping on a fence, twisted the awful rope round the branch of a tree, and then, coiling it about his neck, determined that this day should be akilling day; vainly supposing, in the disordered state of his mind, thatthe flinty-hearted Molly would probably esteem her 'dear' (like venison)the better for being hung! Mystically muttering 'adoo!' three times, inthe most pathetic tone, he swung off and in an instant came to his latterend--for the rope snapp'd in twain, and he found himself seated on theturf below, when he vainly imagined he was preparing himself for beingplaced below the turf! "Nothin' but disappointments in this world;" exclaimed he, really feelinghurt by the unexpected fall, for he had grazed his calves in the meadow, and was wofully vexed at finding himself a lover 'turned off' and yet'unhung. ' Cast down and melancholy, he retraced his steps, and seizing a cleaver(dreadful weapon!) vented his suicidal humour in chopping, with malignantfury, at his own block! SCENE XIV. Don't you be saucy, Boys "What are you grinning at, boys?" angrily demanded an old gentlemanseated beside a meandering stream, of two schoolboys, who were watchinghim from behind a high paling at his rear. --"Don't you know a littlemakes fools laugh. " "Yes, sir! that's quite true, for we were laughing at what you'vecaught!" "Umph! I tell you what, my lads, if I knew your master, I'd pull you up, and have you well dressed. " "Tell that to the fishes, " replied the elder, "when you do get a bite!" "You saucy jackanapes! how dare you speak to me in this manner?" "Pray, sir, are you lord of the manor? I'm sure you spoke to us first, "said the younger. "More than that, " continued his companion. "We are above speaking toyou, for you are beneath us!" The old gentleman, rather nettled at the glibness of the lads, stuck ahook vengefully into an inoffensive worm, and threw his line. The boys still retained their post, and after many whispered remarks andtittering, the younger thrust his handkerchief into his mouth to smothera burst of irrepressible laughter, while the other, assuming a modest andpenitent air, said: "I beg your pardon, sir. " "What?" demanded the old gentleman sharply. "Hope you are not offended, sir?" "Get along with you, " replied the unfortunate angler, irritated at hiswant of success. "I can tell you something, sir, " continued the lad;--"there's no fish tobe had where you are. I know the river well. Father's very fond o'fish; he always brings home plenty. If you like, sir, I can show you theplace. " Here his companion rolled upon the grass and kicked, perfectly convulsedwith laughter, luckily hidden from the view of the now mollified oldgentleman. "Indeed!" cried the angler: "is it far from this?" "Not a quarter of a mile, " replied the boy. "That is nothing. I've walked eighteen this morning, " said the oldgentleman, packing up his apparatus. "I'll go with you directly, andthank you too, for I'm a perfect stranger in these parts. " When he had joined them, the laughing fits of the younger had subsided, although he chose to fall in the rear. "Now, to shew you how much moreprofitable it is to respect than to mock at your superiors in years, there's a (let me see)--there's a halfpenny for you to purchase cakes. " "Thank ye, sir, " said he, and turning to his companion with a wink: "HereBill, run to Cummins' and buy a ha'p'orth of eights--we'll make the mostof it--and I'll come to you as soon as I've shown the gentleman thefish. " "Show me the place, and I'll find the fish, " said the anticipatingangler. On they trudged. "Must we go through the town?" asked his companion, as he marched withhis long rod in one hand and his can in the other. "Yes, sir, it ain't far;" and he walked on at a quicker pace, while allthe crowd of rustics gazed at t e extraordinary appearance of the armedWaltonian, for it happened to be market-day. After parading him in thisfashion nearly through the town, he presently twitched him by hiscoat-sleeve. "Look there, sir!" cried he, pointing to a well-stocked fishmonger's. "Beautiful!--what a quantity!" exclaimed the venerable piscator. "I thought you'd like it, sir--that's the place for fish, sir, --goodmorning. " "Eh! what--you young dog?" "That's where father gets all his, I assure you, sir, --good morning, "said the youth, and making a mock reverence, bounded off as fast as hislegs could carry him. SCENE XV. "Vy, Sarah, you're drunk! I am quite ashamed o' you. " "Vell, vots the odds as long as you're happy!" Jack was an itinerant vender of greens, and his spouse was a peripateticdistributor of the finny tribe, (sprats, herrings or mackerel, accordingto the season, ) and both picked up a tolerable livelihood by theirrespective callings. Like the lettuces he sold, Jack had a good heart, and his attention wasfirst attracted to the subsequent object of his election by the wit of apassing boy, who asked the damsel how she sold her carrots? Jack's eyeswere in an instant turned towards one whom he considered a competitor inthe trade--when he beheld the physiognomy of his Sarah beaming withsmiles beneath an abundant crop of sunny hair! "You are a beauty and no mistake, " exclaimed the green grocer inadmiration. "Flummery!" replied the damsel--the deep blush of modesty mantling hercheeks. Jack rested his basket on a post beside her stall, and drankdeep draughts of love, while Sarah's delicate fingers were skilfullyemployed in undressing a pound of wriggling eels for a customer. "Them's rig'lar voppers!" remarked Jack. "Three to a pound, " answered Sarah, and so they slipped naturally intodiscourse upon trade, its prospects and profits, and gradually a hint ofpartnership was thrown out. Sarah laughed at his insinuating address, and displayed a set of teeththat rivalled crimped skate in their whiteness--a month afterwards theybecame man and wife. For some years they toiled on together--he, like acaterpillar, getting a living out of cabbages, and she, like anundertaker, out of departed soles! Latterly, however, Jack discoveredthat his spouse was rather addicted to 'summut short, ' in fact, that shedrank like a fish, although the beverage she affected was a leetlestronger than water. Their profit (unlike Mahomet) permitted them thesame baneful indulgence--and kept them both in spirits! Their trade, however, fell off for they were often unable to carry theirbaskets. The last time we beheld them, Sarah was sitting in the cooling current ofa gutter, with her heels upon the curb (alas! how much did she need acurb!) while Jack, having disposed of his basket, had obtained a post ina public situation, was holding forth on the impropriety of her conduct. "How can you let yourself down so?" said he, --"You're drunk--drunk, Sarah, drunk!" "On'y a little elevated, Jack. " "Elevated!--floor'd you mean. " "Vell; vot's the odds as long as you're happy?" Jack finding all remonstrance was vain, brought himself up, and reelingforward, went as straight home--as he could, leaving his spouse (likemany a deserted wife) soaking her clay, because he refused to supporther! SCENE XVI. "Lawk a'-mercy! I'm going wrong! and got to walk all that way backagain. " A pedestrian may get robbed of his money on the highway, but a cross-roadfrequently robs him of time and patience; for when haply he considershimself at his journey's end, an impertinent finger-post, offering himthe tardy and unpleasant information that he has wandered from his track, makes him turn about and wheel about, like Jim Crow, in anything but apleasant humor. It were well if every wayfarer were like the sailor, who when offered aquid from the 'bacoo box of a smoker, said, 'I never chews theshort-cut!' and in the same spirit, we strongly advise him, before hetakes the short-cut to think of the returns! Should the weather prove rainy, the hungry traveller may certainly get awet on the road, although he starves before he reaches the wished-forinn. As there is likewise no more chance of meeting a good tempered guide on across-road, than of finding eggs and bacon, in an edible state, at leaston a common--and as he can no more pull in the summer-rains than he canthe reins of a runaway stallion; the result is, the inexperienced youthludicrously represents so many pounds of 'dripping, ' and although he maybe thirsty, he will have no cause to complain that he is--dry! The bestmode for an honest man to go round the country, is to take astraight-forward course, especially when the surcharged clouds do rulethe horizon with sloping lines of rain! Besides, it is by no means apleasant thing for a man with a scanty wardrobe, to find his clothesrunning away at a most unpleasant rate, while he can scarcely drag oneclay-encumbered leg after the other. It is a difficult trial, too, of a man's philosophy, after trudging overa long field, to be encountered by the mockery of a 'ha! ha!'--fence! Heutters a few bitter expletives, perhaps, but nought avails his railingagainst such a fence as that! The shower which makes all nature smile, only causes him to laugh--on thewrong side of his mouth, for he regards it as a temperance man does aregular soaker! Reader! never attempt a bye-way on a wet day, with a stick and bundle atyour back--(if you have a waterproof trunk, you may indeed weatherit)--but go a-head on the turnpike road--the way of all mails--leavinglong and short commons to the goose and donkey--and the probability is, that you may not only I make a sign before you die, but get a feed--and ashelter. SCENE XVII. "I'm dem'd if I can ever hit 'em. " It is a most extraordinary thing, 'pon my veracity: I go out as regularlyas the year, and yet I never bring down an individual bird. I have one of the best Mantons going with such a bore! and then I use thebest shot--but not being the best shot in the world myself--I suppose isthe identical reason why I never hit any thing. I think it must arisefrom a natural defect in my sight; for when I suppose a covey as near--asmy miser of an uncle--they are probably as distant--as my ninety-ninthcousin! Such a rum go!--the other day I had a troop of fellows at my heels, laughing like mad; and what do you think?--when I doffed my shootingjacket, I found some wag had stuck the top of a printed placard on myback, with the horrid words, "A young Gentleman missing!" It was only last week, a whole flight of sparrows rose at my very feet--Ifired--bang!--no go!--but I heard a squall; and elevating my glass, lo! Ibeheld a cottage within a few yards of my muzzle--the vulgar peasant tookthe trouble to leap his fence, and inform me I had broken his windows--ofcourse I was compelled to pay him for his panes. To be sure he did rather indicate a disposition to take away mygun--which I certainly should never have relinquished without astruggle--and so I forked out the dibs, in order to keep the piece! I'mquite positive, however, that the vagabond over-charged me, and I kicked, as was quite natural, you know, under such circumstances! I really have an imperfect notion of disposing of my shooting-tackle--butI'm such an unfortunate devil, that I really believe when I post 'em upfor sale--my gun will not go off!--dem me! SCENE XVIII. "Have you read the leader in this paper, Mr. Brisket?" "No! I never touch a newspaper; they are all so werry wenal, and Ovoid ofsentiment!" BOB. O! here's a harticle agin the fools, Vich our poor British Nation so misrules:And don't they show 'em up with all their tricks--By gosh! I think they'd better cut their sticks;They never can surwive such cuts as these is! BRISKET. It's werry well; but me it never pleases;I never reads the news, and sees no meritIn anythink as breathes a party sperrit. BOB. Ain't you a hinglishman? and yet not feelA hint'rest, Brisket, in the common-weal? BRISKET. The common-weal be--anything for me, --There ain't no sentiment as I can seeIn all the stuff these sons of--Britain prate--They talk too much and do too little for the state. BOB. O! Brisket, I'm afeard as you're a 'Rad?' BRISKET. No, honour bright! for sin' I was a ladI've stuck thro' thick and thin to Peel, orVellinton--for Tories is genteeler;But I'm no politician. No! I readThese 'Tales of Love' vich tells of hearts as bleed, And moonlight meetins in the field and grove, And cross-grain'd pa's and wictims of true love;Wirgins in white a-leaping out o' winders--Vot some old codger cotches, and so hinders--From j'ining her true-love to tie the knot, Who broken-hearted dies upon the spot! BOB. That's werry fine!--but give me politics--There's summat stirring even in the tricksOf them vot's in to keep the t'others out, --How I Should like to hear the fellers spout!For some on 'em have sich a lot o' cheek, If they war'n't stopp'd they'd go it for a week. BRISKET. But they're so wulgar, Bob, and call sich namesAs quite the tag-rag of St. Giles' shamesThe press too is so wenal, that they thinkAll party herrors for the sake o' chink. BOB. But ain't there no false lovers in them tales, Vot hover wirgin hinnocence perwails? BRISKET. Vy, yes, but in the end the right one's married, And after much to do the point is carriedSo give me love sincere and tender, And all the rest's not worth a bender. SCENE XIX. AN EPISTLE FROM SAMUEL SOFTLY, ESQ. TO HIS FRIEND, RICHARD GUBBINS, ESQ. OF TOOLEYSTREET. O! DICK! Such a misfortin' has you never heard on as come upon your friend. I'lljist give you a breef houtline of the circumstantials as near as myflurry vill let me. T'other mornin' I vips up my gun for to goa-shootin', and packin' up my hammunition, and some sanwidges, I bidsadoo to this wile smoky town, vith the intention of gettin' a littlehair. Vell! on I goes a-visshin' and thinkin' on nothin', and happy asthe bumblebees as vos a-numming around me. Vell! a'ter an hour or more'svalking, not an house nor a brick vos wisible. Natur', in all her werdur', vos smilin' like a fat babby in its maternalharms! But, as somebody has it-- "Man never ain't, but al'ays to be bless'd, " and I'm bless'd if that ain't true too, as you shall see presently. Vell!I pops at von bird and then at another; but vether the poor creturs vosunaccustom'd to guns, and so vos frighten'd, I don't know, but somehow Icouldn't hit 'em no-how. Vell! and so I vos jist a-chargin' agin ven a great he-fellow, in a ruffcoat and partic'lar large viskers, accostes me (ciwilly I must say, butrayther familler)-- "Birds shy?" says he. "Werry;--ain't hit nothin', " says I. "I'll tell you vot it is, young gentleman, " says he, "it's the unevennesso' the ground!" "D've think so?" says I. "Sure on it, " says he; "I'm a hold sojer! Know this 'ere place, and havepicked up many a good dinner in it. Look at them fe'l'fares yonder, "says he, "on'y let me have a slap at 'em for you, and see if I don'tfinish some on 'em in the twinkling of a pig's visper. " In course I felt obleeged by sich a hoffer, and hands him the gun. Vell!I vos a-follerin' him quite pleased, ven he visks round, and puttin' themuzzle o' the hinstrument fist agin my vescoat, says he, "Now you've lentus your gun, you may as vell lend us your votch. I can't shoot any thinkfor you till I sees vot's o'clock!" Here vas a go!--but I see vot vas a clock in a hinstant--and no mistake. So I cotch'd hold on the two butiful chased seals and tugs it out. "That's the time o' day!" says he, a-cockin' his hugly heye at the dial;"and now, " says he, "as you seems frightened at the gun, I shall jist putit out o' harm's way. " And with that he chucks it splash, into a duck-pond, and hoff marches myhold sojer in a jiffy! I vos putrified! and fell to a-blubberin' like ahinfant. O! Dick, vot's to be done? You know I ham, at any rate, Yours truly, S. SOFTLY. SCENE XX. The Courtship of Mr. Wiggins. Among the very few fashionable foibles to which Mr. Wiggins was addicted, was the smoking of cigars. Attracted by the appearance of a small boxmarked 'Marylands--one penny each, ' very much resembling lettuce-leaveswith the yellow jaundice, he walked into the chandler's shop where theywere displayed. "Let us look at them cigars, " said he, and then, for the first time, glancing at the smart, good-looking mistress of the emporium, he added, "if you please, ma'am--" "Certain'y, sir. " A pretty little fist that, howsomever! thought Wiggins, as she placed thebox before him. "Vill you have a light?" "Thank'ye, ma'am, " said he, ramming the cigar into his mouth, as if hereally intended to bolt it. She twisted a slip of waste, and lighting it, presented it to heradmiring customer, for it was evident, from the rapt manner in which hescanned her, that he was deeply smitten by her personal appearance. She colored, coughed delicately, as the smoke tickled the tonsils of herthroat, and looked full at the youth. Such a look! as Wiggins asserted. "I'm afeared as the smoke is disagreeable, " said he. "Oh! dear no, not at all, I assure you; I likes it of all things. I can'tabide a pipe no-how, but I've quite a prevalence (predilection?) forsiggers. " So Wiggins puffed and chatted away; and at last, delightedwith the sprightly conversation of the lady, seated himself on thesmall-beer barrel, and so far forgot his economy in the fascination ofhis entertainer, that he purchased a second. At this favourablejuncture, Mrs. Warner, (for she was a widow acknowledgingfive-and-twenty) ordered the grinning shop-boy, who was chopping the'lump, ' to take home them 'ere dips to a customer who lived at somedistance. Wiggins, not aware of the 'ruse, ' felt pleased with theabsence of one who was certainly 'de trop' in the engrossing'tete-a-tete. ' We will pass over this preliminary conversation; for awhole week the same scene was renewed, and at last Mrs. Warner and Mr. Wiggins used to shake hands at parting. "Do you hever go out?" said Wiggns. "Sildom-werry sildom, " replied the widow. "Vos you never at the Vite Cundic, or the hEagle, or any of them placeson a Sunday?" "How can I go, " replied the widow, sighing, "vithout a purtector?" Hereupon the enamoured Wiggins said, "How happy he should be, " etc. , andthe widow said, "She was sure for her part, " etc. And so the affair wassettled. On the following Sunday the gallant Mr. Wiggins figged out, inhis best, escorted the delighted and delightful Mrs. Warner to that placeof fashionable resort, the White Conduit, and did the thing sohandsomely, that the lady was quite charmed. Seated in one of the snugarbors of that suburban establishment, she poured out the hot tea, andthe swain the most burning vows of attachment. "Mr. Viggins, do you takesugar?" demanded the fair widow. "Yes, my haingel, " answered he, emphatically. "I loves all wot's sweet, " and then he gave her such atender squeeze! "Done--do--you naughty man!" cried she, tapping him onthe knuckles with the plated sugar-tongs, and then cast down her eyeswith such a roguish modesty, that he repeated the operation for the sakeof that ravishing expression. Pointing his knife at a pat of butter, hepoetically exclaimed, "My heart is jist like that--and you have made ahimpression on it as time will never put out!" "I did'nt think as youwere quite so soft neither, " said the widow. "I ham, " replied thesuitor--"and there, " continued he, cutting a hot roll, and introducingthe pat, "I melts as easily afore the glance of your beautiful heyes!"Resolved to carry on the campaign with spirit, he called for two glassesof brandy and water, stiff, and three cigars! And now, becomingsentimental and communicative, he declared, with his hand upon his heart, that "hif there vos a single thing in life as would make him completelyhappy, it vos a vife!" SCENE XXI. The Courtship of Mr. Wiggins. Mr. Wiggins was so intoxicated with love, brandy-and-water and cigars, that he scarcely knew how he reached home. He only remembered that hewas very dizzy, and that his charming widow--his guide and friend--hadremonstrated with him upon the elevation of his style, and theirregularity of his progression. With his head in his hand, and a strong "dish of tea" without milk, before him, he was composing himself for business the following morning, when an unexpected visitor was announced. "Please, sir, there's Mrs. Warner's 's boy as wants to speak vith you, "said his landlady. "Show him up, " languidly replied our lover, throwing his aching head fromhis right to his left hand. "Vell, Jim, vot's the matter!" demanded he--"How's your missus?" "She ain't no missus o' mine no longer, " replied Jim. "How?" "I tell you vot it is, sir, she promised to give me a shillin'-aweek an'my feed; an' she ain't done vun thing nor t' other; for I'm bless'd if Iain't starved, and ain't seen the color of her money sin' I bin there. Father's goin' to summon her. " "It's some mistake, sure?" "It's no mistake tho', " persisted Jim, "an' I can tell you she ain't gota farden to bless herself vith!--an' she's over head-and-ears in debttoo, I can tell you; an' she pays nobody--puttin' 'em all off, vithpromises to pay wen she's married. " "My heye!" exclaimed the excited Wiggins, thrown all a-back by this veryagreeable intention upon his funds. "More nor that, sir, " continued the revengeful Jim, "I know she thinks asshe's hooked a preshus flat, an' means to marry you outright jist for votshe can get. An' von't she scatter the dibs?--that's all; she's theextravagantest 'ooman as hever I came anigh to. " "But, (dear me! ) she has a good stock--?" "Dummies, sir, all dummies. " "Dummies?" "Yes, sir; the sugars on the shelves is all dummies--wooden 'uns, done upin paper! The herrin' tub is on'y got a few at top--the rest's allshavins an' waste. --There's plenty o' salt to be sure--but the werrysoap-box is all made up. " "And so's my mind!" emphatically exclaimed the deluded Wiggins, slappingthe breakfast-table with his clenched fist. "Jim--Jim--you're a honest lad, and there's half-a-crown for you--" "Thank'ye for me, sir, " said the errand-boy, grinning with delight--"and--and you'll cut the missus, Sir!" "For ever!--" "Hooray! I said as how I'd have my rewenge!" cried the lad, and pullingthe front of his straight hair, as an apology for a bow, he retreatedfrom the room. "What an escape!" soliloquized Wiggins-- "Should n't I ha' bin properlyhampered? that's all. No more insinniwating widows for me!--" And so ended the Courtship of Mr. Wiggins. SCENE XXII. The Itinerant Musician. A wandering son of Apollo, with a shocking bad hat, encircled by amelancholy piece of rusty crape, and arrayed in garments that had onceshone with renovated splendour in that mart of second-hand habiliments'ycleped Monmouth-street, was affrighting the echoes of a fashionablestreet by blowing upon an old clarionet, and doing the 'Follow, hark!' ofWeber the most palpable injustice. The red hand of the greasy cook tapped at the kitchen-window below, andshe scolded inaudibly--but he still continued to amuse--himself, asregardless of the cook's scolding as of the area-railing against which heleaned, tuning his discordant lay. His strain indeed appeared endless, and he still persevered in torturingthe ambient air with, apparently, as little prospect of blowing himselfout as an asthmatic man would possibly have of extinguishing a smoky linkwith a wheeze--or a hungry cadger without a penny! The master of the mansion was suffering under a touch of the gout, accompanied by a gnawing tooth-ache!--The horrid noise without made histrembling nerves jangle like the loose strings of an untuned guitar. A furious tug at the bell brought down the silken rope and brought up anorbicular footman. "William" "Yes, sir. " "D--- that, etc. ! and send him to, etc. !" "Yes, sir. " And away glided the liveried rotundity. -- Appearing at the street-door, the musician took his instrument from hislips, and, approaching the steps, touched his sorry beaver with the sideof his left hand. "There's three-pence for you, " said the menial, "and master wishes you'dmove on. " "Threepence, indeed!" mumbled the man. "I never moves on under sixpence:d'ye think I doesn't know the walley o' peace and quietness?" "Fellow!" cried the irate footman, with a pompous air--"Master desires asyou'll go on. " "Werry well"--replied the other, touching his hat, while the domesticwaddled back, and closed the door, pluming himself upon having settledthe musician; but he had no sooner vanished, than the strain was taken upagain more uproariously than ever. Out he rushed again in a twinkling-- "Fellow! I say--man! vot do you mean?" "Vy, now didn't you tell me to go on?" "I mean't go off. " "Then vy don't you speak plain hinglish, " said the clarionist; "but, Isay, lug out t'other browns, or I shall say vot the flute said ven hismaster said as how he'd play a tune on him. " "Vot vos that?" "Vy, he'd be blow'd if he would!" "You're a owdacious fellow. " "Tip!" was the laconic answer, accompanied by an expressive twiddling ofthe fingers. "Vell, there then, " answered the footman, reluctantly giving him theprice of his silence. "Thank'ye, " said the musician, "and in time to come, old fellow, never donothin' by halves--'cept it's a calve's head!" SCENE XXIII. Oh! lor, here's a norrid thing. ' The Confessions of a Sportsman. "Vell, for three year, as sure as the Septembers comes, I takes thefield, but somehow or another I never takes nothin' else! My gun's agood 'un and no mistake!--Percussions and the best Dartford, and all thattoo. My haim ain't amiss neither; so there's a fault somewhere, that'scertain. The first time as I hentered on the inwigorating and manlysport, I valks my werry legs off, and sees nothin' but crows and that'ere sort o' small game. "I vos so aggrawated, that at last I lets fly at 'em in werry spite, jistas they vos a sendin' of their bills into an orse for a dinner. "Bang! goes the piece;--caw! caw! goes the birds; and I dessay I did forsome on 'em, but I don't know, for somehow I vos in sich a preshus hurryto bag my game, that I jumps clean over vun bank, and by goles! plumpinto a ditch on t'other side, up to my werry neck! "The mud stuck to me like vax; and findin' it all over vith me, and nochance o' breaking a cover o' this sort, I dawdled about 'till dusk, andvos werry glad to crawl home and jump into bed. I vos so 'put out' thatI stayed at home the rest o' that season. "The second year come, and my hardor vos agin inflamed. 'Cotch mea-shootin' at crows, ' says I. --Vell, avay I goes a-vhistling to myself, ven presently I see a solentary bird on the wing; 'a pariwidge, byjingo!' says I--I cocks--presents, and hits it! Hooray! down it tumbles, and afore I could load and prime agin, a whole lot o' 'em comes out fromamong the trees. 'Here's luck' says I; and jist shouldered my piece, venI gets sich a vop behind as sent me at full length. "'Vot's that for?' says I. "'Vot are you a shootin' at my pigeons for?' says a great hulking, farmering-looking fellow. "A hexplanation follered; and in course I paid the damage, vich stood mea matter of a suv'rin, for he said he'd take his davy as how it vos awaluable tumbler!--I never sees a 'go' o' rum and vater but vot I thinkson it. This vos a sickener. "The third year I vos hout agin as fresh as a daisy, ven I made a haim ata sparrer, or a lark, or summit o' that kind--hit it, in course, and voson the p'int o' going for'ard, ven lo! on turning my wision atop o' thebank afore me, I seed a norrid thing!--a serpent, or a rattle-snake, orsomethink a-curling itself up and a hissing like fun! "I trembled like a haspen-leaf, and-didn't I bolt as fast as my werrylegs would carry me, that's all? "Since that time I may say, with the chap in the stage-play, that myparent has kept myself, his only son, at home, for I see no sport in sichrigs, and perfer a little peace at home to the best gun in the field!"--