MEMOIRS OF MR. CHARLES J. YELLOWPLUSH

By William Makepeace Thackeray

CONTENTS

 MISS SHUM'S HUSBAND

 THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE

 FORING PARTS

 MR. DEUCEACE AT PARIS:--

 CHAP. I. The Two Bundles of Hay

 II. "Honor thy Father"

 III. Minewvring

 IV. "Hitting the Nale on the Hedd"

 V. The Griffin's Claws

 VI. The Jewel

 VII. The Consquinsies

 VIII. The End of Mr. Deuceace's History. Limbo

 IX. The Marriage

 X. The Honey-moon

 MR. YELLOWPLUSH'S AJEW

 SKIMMINGS FROM "THE DAIRY OF GEORGE IV. "

 EPISTLES TO THE LITERATI

MEMOIRS OF MR. CHARLES J. YELLOWPLUSH

MISS SHUM'S HUSBAND. 

CHAPTER I. 

I was born in the year one, of the present or Christian hera, and am, inconsquints, seven-and-thirty years old. My mamma called me Charles JamesHarrington Fitzroy Yellowplush, in compliment to several noble families, and to a sellybrated coachmin whom she knew, who wore a yellow livry, and drove the Lord Mayor of London. 

Why she gev me this genlmn's name is a diffiklty, or rayther the name ofa part of his dress; however, it's stuck to me through life, in which Iwas, as it were, a footman by buth. 

Praps he was my father--though on this subjict I can't speak suttinly, for my ma wrapped up my buth in a mistry. I may be illygitmit, I mayhave been changed at nuss; but I've always had genlmnly tastes throughlife, and have no doubt that I come of a genlmnly origum. 

The less I say about my parint the better, for the dear old creatur wasvery good to me, and, I fear, had very little other goodness in her. Why, I can't say; but I always passed as her nevyou. We led a strangelife; sometimes ma was dressed in sattn and rooge, and sometimes in ragsand dutt; sometimes I got kisses, and sometimes kix; sometimes gin, and sometimes shampang; law bless us! how she used to swear at me, andcuddle me; there we were, quarrelling and making up, sober and tipsy, starving and guttling by turns, just as ma got money or spent it. But let me draw a vail over the seen, and speak of her no more--its'sfishant for the public to know, that her name was Miss Montmorency, and we lived in the New Cut. 

My poor mother died one morning, Hev'n bless her! and I was left alonein this wide wicked wuld, without so much money as would buy me a pennyroal for my brexfast. But there was some amongst our naybors (and let metell you there's more kindness among them poor disrepettable creaturs, than in half a dozen lords or barrynets) who took pity upon poor Sal'sorfin (for they bust out laffin when I called her Miss Montmorency), andgev me bred and shelter. I'm afraid, in spite of their kindness, thatmy MORRILS wouldn't have improved if I'd stayed long among 'em. But abenny-violent genlmn saw me, and put me to school. The academy which Iwent to was called the Free School of Saint Bartholomew's the Less--theyoung genlmn wore green baize coats, yellow leather whatsisnames, a tinplate on the left arm, and a cap about the size of a muffing. I stayedthere sicks years; from sicks, that is to say, till my twelth year, during three years of witch I distinguished myself not a little in themusicle way, for I bloo the bellus of the church horgin, and very finetunes we played too. 

Well, it's not worth recounting my jewvenile follies (what trix weused to play the applewoman! and how we put snuff in the old clark'sPrayer-book--my eye!); but one day, a genlmn entered the school-room--itwas on the very day when I went to subtraxion--and asked the master fora young lad for a servant. They pitched upon me glad enough; and nexday found me sleeping in the sculry, close under the sink, at Mr. Bago'scountry-house at Pentonwille. 

Bago kep a shop in Smithfield market, and drov a taring good trade inthe hoil and Italian way. I've heard him say, that he cleared no lessthan fifty pounds every year by letting his front room at hanging time. His winders looked right opsit Newgit, and many and many dozen chaps hashe seen hanging there. Laws was laws in the year ten, and they screwedchaps' nex for nex to nothink. But my bisniss was at his country-house, where I made my first ontray into fashnabl life. I was knife, errint, and stable-boy then, and an't ashamed to own it; for my merrits haveraised me to what I am--two livries, forty pound a year, malt-licker, washin, silk-stocking, and wax candles--not countin wails, which issomethink pretty considerable at OUR house, I can tell you. 

I didn't stay long here, for a suckmstance happened which got me a verydifferent situation. A handsome young genlmn, who kep a tilbry and aridin horse at livry, wanted a tiger. I bid at once for the place; and, being a neat tidy-looking lad, he took me. Bago gave me a character, andhe my first livry; proud enough I was of it, as you may fancy. 

My new master had some business in the city, for he went in everymorning at ten, got out of his tilbry at the Citty Road, and had itwaiting for him at six; when, if it was summer, he spanked round intothe Park, and drove one of the neatest turnouts there. Wery proud I wasin a gold-laced hat, a drab coat and a red weskit, to sit by his side, when he drove. I already began to ogle the gals in the carridges, and tofeel that longing for fashionabl life which I've had ever since. Whenhe was at the oppera, or the play, down I went to skittles, or to WhiteCondick Gardens; and Mr. Frederic Altamont's young man was somebody, Iwarrant: to be sure there is very few man-servants at Pentonwille, thepoppylation being mostly gals of all work; and so, though only fourteen, I was as much a man down there, as if I had been as old as Jerusalem. 

But the most singular thing was, that my master, who was such a gaychap, should live in such a hole. He had only a ground-floor in JohnStreet--a parlor and a bedroom. I slep over the way, and only came inwith his boots and brexfast of a morning. 

The house he lodged in belonged to Mr. And Mrs. Shum. They were a poorbut proliffic couple, who had rented the place for many years; and theyand their family were squeezed in it pretty tight, I can tell you. 

Shum said he had been a hofficer, and so he had. He had been asub-deputy assistant vice-commissary, or some such think; and, asI heerd afterwards, had been obliged to leave on account of hisNERVOUSNESS. He was such a coward, the fact is, that he was considereddangerous to the harmy, and sent home. 

He had married a widow Buckmaster, who had been a Miss Slamcoe. She wasa Bristol gal; and her father being a bankrup in the tallow-chandleringway, left, in course, a pretty little sum of money. A thousand poundwas settled on her; and she was as high and mighty as if it had been amillium. 

Buckmaster died, leaving nothink; nothink except four ugly daughters byMiss Slamcoe: and her forty pound a year was rayther a narrow income forone of her appytite and pretensions. In an unlucky hour for Shum shemet him. He was a widower with a little daughter of three years old, a little house at Pentonwille, and a little income about as big as herown. I believe she bullyd the poor creature into marridge; and it wasagreed that he should let his ground-floor at John Street, and so addsomethink to their means. 

They married; and the widow Buckmaster was the gray mare, I cantell you. She was always talking and blustering about her famly, thecelebrity of the Buckmasters, and the antickety of the Slamcoes. Theyhad a six-roomed house (not counting kitching and sculry), and nowtwelve daughters in all; whizz. --4 Miss Buckmasters: Miss Betsy, MissDosy, Miss Biddy, and Miss Winny; 1 Miss Shum, Mary by name, Shum'sdaughter, and seven others, who shall be nameless. Mrs. Shum was a fat, red-haired woman, at least a foot taller than S. ; who was but a yard anda half high, pale-faced, red-nosed, knock-kneed, bald-headed, his noseand shut-frill all brown with snuff. 

Before the house was a little garden, where the washin of the famly wasall ways hanging. There was so many of 'em that it was obliged to bedone by relays. There was six rails and a stocking on each, and foursmall goosbry bushes, always covered with some bit of linning or other. The hall was a regular puddle: wet dabs of dishclouts flapped in yourface; soapy smoking bits of flanning went nigh to choke you; and whileyou were looking up to prevent hanging yourself with the ropes whichwere strung across and about, slap came the hedge of a pail against yourshins, till one was like to be drove mad with hagony. The great slattnlydoddling girls was always on the stairs, poking about with nastyflower-pots, a-cooking something, or sprawling in the window-seatswith greasy curl-papers, reading greasy novels. An infernal pianna wasjingling from morning till night--two eldest Miss Buckmasters, "Battleof Prag"--six youngest Miss Shums, "In my Cottage, " till I knew everynote in the "Battle of Prag, " and cussed the day when "In my Cottage"was rote. The younger girls, too, were always bouncing and thumpingabout the house, with torn pinnyfores, and dogs-eard grammars, and largepieces of bread and treacle. I never see such a house. 

As for Mrs. Shum, she was such a fine lady, that she did nothink butlay on the drawing-room sophy, read novels, drink, scold, scream, and gointo hystarrix. Little Shum kep reading an old newspaper from weeks' endto weeks' end, when he was not engaged in teaching the children, or goinfor the beer, or cleanin the shoes: for they kep no servant. This housein John Street was in short a regular Pandymony. 

What could have brought Mr. Frederic Altamont to dwell in such a place?The reason is hobvius: he adoared the fust Miss Shum. 

And suttnly he did not show a bad taste; for though the other daughterswere as ugly as their hideous ma, Mary Shum was a pretty little pink, modest creatur, with glossy black hair and tender blue eyes, and a neckas white as plaster of Parish. She wore a dismal old black gownd, whichhad grown too short for her, and too tight; but it only served to showher pretty angles and feet, and bewchus figger. Master, though he hadlooked rather low for the gal of his art, had certainly looked in theright place. Never was one more pretty or more hamiable. I gav heralways the buttered toast left from our brexfust, and a cup of tea orchocklate, as Altamont might fancy: and the poor thing was glad enoughof it, I can vouch; for they had precious short commons up stairs, andshe the least of all. 

For it seemed as if which of the Shum famly should try to snub the poorthing most. There was the four Buckmaster girls always at her. It was, Mary, git the coal-skittle; Mary, run down to the public-house for thebeer; Mary, I intend to wear your clean stockens out walking, or yournew bonnet to church. Only her poor father was kind to her; and he, poorold muff! his kindness was of no use. Mary bore all the scolding likea hangel, as she was: no, not if she had a pair of wings and a gooldtrumpet, could she have been a greater hangel. 

I never shall forgit one seen that took place. It was when Master wasin the city; and so, having nothink earthly to do, I happened to belistening on the stairs. The old scolding was a-going on, and the oldtune of that hojus "Battle of Prag. " Old Shum made some remark; and MissBuckmaster cried out, "Law, pa! what a fool you are!" All the gals beganlaffin, and so did Mrs. Shum; all, that is, excep Mary, who turned asred as flams, and going up to Miss Betsy Buckmaster, give her two suchwax on her great red ears as made them tingle again. 

Old Mrs. Shum screamed, and ran at her like a Bengal tiger. Her greatarms vent veeling about like a vinmill, as she cuffed and thumpedpoor Mary for taking her pa's part. Mary Shum, who was always a-cryingbefore, didn't shed a tear now. "I will do it again, " she said, "ifBetsy insults my father. " New thumps, new shreex; and the old horridanwent on beatin the poor girl till she was quite exosted, and fell downon the sophy, puffin like a poppus. 

"For shame, Mary, " began old Shum; "for shame, you naughty gal, you! forhurting the feelings of your dear mamma, and beating your kind sister. "

"Why, it was because she called you a--"

"If she did, you pert miss, " said Shum, looking mighty dignitified, "Icould correct her, and not you. "

"You correct me, indeed!" said Miss Betsy, turning up her nose, ifpossible, higher than before; "I should like to see you erect me!Imperence!" and they all began laffin again. 

By this time Mrs. S. Had recovered from the effex of her exsize, and shebegan to pour in HER wolly. Fust she called Mary names, then Shum. 

"Oh, why, " screeched she, "why did I ever leave a genteel famly, whereI ad every ellygance and lucksry, to marry a creatur like this? He isunfit to be called a man, he is unworthy to marry a gentlewoman; and asfor that hussy, I disown her. Thank heaven she an't a Slamcoe; she isonly fit to be a Shum!"

"That's true, mamma, " said all the gals; for their mother had taughtthem this pretty piece of manners, and they despised their fatherheartily: indeed, I have always remarked that, in famlies where the wifeis internally talking about the merits of her branch, the husband isinvariably a spooney. 

Well, when she was exosted again, down she fell on the sofy, at her oldtrix--more screeching--more convulshuns: and she wouldn't stop, thistime, till Shum had got her half a pint of her old remedy, from the"Blue Lion" over the way. She grew more easy as she finished the gin;but Mary was sent out of the room, and told not to come back agin allday. 

"Miss Mary, " says I, --for my heart yurned to the poor gal, as she camesobbing and miserable down stairs: "Miss Mary, " says I, "if I might makeso bold, here's master's room empty, and I know where the cold bif andpickles is. " "Oh, Charles!" said she, nodding her head sadly, "I'm tooretched to have any happytite. " And she flung herself on a chair, andbegan to cry fit to bust. 

At this moment who should come in but my master. I had taken hold ofMiss Mary's hand, somehow, and do believe I should have kist it, when, as I said, Haltamont made his appearance. "What's this?" cries he, lookin at me as black as thunder, or as Mr. Phillips as Hickit, in thenew tragedy of MacBuff. 

"It's only Miss Mary, sir, " answered I. 

"Get out, sir, " says he, as fierce as posbil; and I felt somethink (Ithink it was the tip of his to) touching me behind, and found myself, nex minit, sprawling among the wet flannings and buckets and things. 

The people from up stairs came to see what was the matter, as I wascussin and crying out. "It's only Charles, ma, " screamed out Miss Betsy. 

"Where's Mary?" says Mrs. Shum, from the sofy. 

"She's in Master's room, miss, " said I. 

"She's in the lodger's room, ma, " cries Miss Shum, heckoing me. 

"Very good; tell her to stay there till he comes back. " And then MissShum went bouncing up the stairs again, little knowing of Haltamont'sreturn. 

 . . . . . . 

I'd long before observed that my master had an anchoring after MaryShum; indeed, as I have said, it was purely for her sake that he tookand kep his lodgings at Pentonwille. Excep for the sake of love, whichis above being mersnary, fourteen shillings a wick was a LITTLE toostrong for two such rat-holes as he lived in. I do blieve the famlyhad nothing else but their lodger to live on: they brekfisted off histea-leaves, they cut away pounds and pounds of meat from his jints (healways dined at home), and his baker's bill was at least enough for six. But that wasn't my business. I saw him grin, sometimes, when I laid downthe cold bif of a morning, to see how little was left of yesterday'ssirline; but he never said a syllabub: for true love don't mind a poundof meat or so hextra. 

At first, he was very kind and attentive to all the gals; Miss Betsy, in partickler, grew mighty fond of him: they sat, for whole evenings, playing cribbitch, he taking his pipe and glas, she her tea and muffing;but as it was improper for her to come alone, she brought one of hersisters, and this was genrally Mary, --for he made a pint of asking her, too, --and one day, when one of the others came instead, he told her, very quitely, that he hadn't invited her; and Miss Buckmaster was toofond of muffings to try this game on again: besides, she was jealous ofher three grown sisters, and considered Mary as only a child. Law blessus! how she used to ogle him, and quot bits of pottry, and play "MeetMe by Moonlike, " on an old gitter: she reglar flung herself at his head:but he wouldn't have it, bein better ockypied elsewhere. 

One night, as genteel as possible, he brought home tickets for"Ashley's, " and proposed to take the two young ladies--Miss Betsy andMiss Mary, in course. I recklect he called me aside that afternoon, assuming a solamon and misterus hare, "Charles, " said he, "ARE YOU UP TOSNUFF?"

"Why sir, " said I, "I'm genrally considered tolerably downy. "

"Well, " says he, "I'll give you half a suffering if you can manage thisbisness for me; I've chose a rainy night on purpus. When the theatre isover, you must be waitin with two umbrellows; give me one, and hold theother over Miss Buckmaster: and, hark ye, sir, TURN TO THE RIGHT whenyou leave the theater, and say the coach is ordered to stand a littleway up the street, in order to get rid of the crowd. "

We went (in a fly hired by Mr. A. ), and never shall I forgit Cartliche'shacting on that memrable night. Talk of Kimble! talk of Magreedy!Ashley's for my money, with Cartlitch in the principal part. But thisis nothink to the porpus. When the play was over, I was at the door withthe umbrellos. It was raining cats and dogs, sure enough. 

Mr. Altamont came out presently, Miss Mary under his arm, and MissBetsy following behind, rayther sulky. "This way, sir, " cries I, pushinforward; and I threw a great cloak over Miss Betsy, fit to smother her. Mr. A. And Miss Mary skipped on and was out of sight when Miss Betsy'scloak was settled, you may be sure. 

"They're only gone to the fly, miss. It's a little way up the street, away from the crowd of carridges. " And off we turned TO THE RIGHT, andno mistake. 

After marchin a little through the plash and mud, "Has anybody seenCoxy's fly?" cries I, with the most innocent haxent in the world. 

"Cox's fly!" hollows out one chap. "Is it the vaggin you want?" saysanother. "I see the blackin wan pass, " giggles out another gentlmn; andthere was such a hinterchange of compliments as you never heerd. I passthem over though, because some of 'em were not wery genteel. 

"Law, miss, " said I, "what shall I do? My master will never forgive me;and I haven't a single sixpence to pay a coach. " Miss Betsy was justgoing to call one when I said that; but the coachman wouldn't have it atthat price, he said, and I knew very well that SHE hadn't four or fiveshillings to pay for a wehicle. So, in the midst of that tarin rain, at midnight, we had to walk four miles, from Westminster Bridge toPentonwille; and what was wuss, I DIDN'T HAPPEN TO KNOW THE WAY. A verynice walk it was, and no mistake. 

At about half-past two, we got safe to John Street. My master was at thegarden gate. Miss Mary flew into Miss Betsy's arms, while master beguncussin and swearing at me for disobeying his orders, and TURNING TO THERIGHT INSTEAD OF TO THE LEFT! Law bless me! his hacting of hanger wasvery near as natral and as terrybl as Mr. Cartlich's in the play. 

They had waited half an hour, he said, in the fly, in the little streetat the left of the theater; they had drove up and down in the greatestfright possible; and at last came home, thinking it was in vain to waitany more. They gave her 'ot rum-and-water and roast oysters for supper, and this consoled her a little. 

I hope nobody will cast an imputation on Miss Mary for HER share in thisadventer, for she was as honest a gal as ever lived, and I do believe ishignorant to this day of our little strattygim. Besides, all's fair inlove; and, as my master could never get to see her alone, on accountof her infernal eleven sisters and ma, he took this opportunity ofexpressin his attachment to her. 

If he was in love with her before, you may be sure she paid it him backagain now. Ever after the night at Ashley's, they were as tender as twotuttle-doves--which fully accounts for the axdent what happened to me, in being kicked out of the room: and in course I bore no mallis. 

I don't know whether Miss Betsy still fancied that my master was in lovewith her, but she loved muffings and tea, and kem down to his parlor asmuch as ever. 

Now comes the sing'lar part of my history. 

CHAPTER II. 

But who was this genlmn with a fine name--Mr. Frederic Altamont? or whatwas he? The most mysterus genlmn that ever I knew. Once I said to him ona wery rainy day, "Sir, shall I bring the gig down to your office?" andhe gave me one of his black looks and one of his loudest hoaths, andtold me to mind my own bizziness, and attend to my orders. Anotherday, --it was on the day when Miss Mary slapped Miss Betsy's face, --MissM. , who adoared him, as I have said already, kep on asking him what washis buth, parentidg, and ediccation. "Dear Frederic, " says she, "whythis mistry about yourself and your hactions? why hide from your littleMary"--they were as tender as this, I can tell you--"your buth and yourprofessin?"

I spose Mr. Frederic looked black, for I was ONLY listening, and hesaid, in a voice hagitated by emotion, "Mary, " said he, "if you loveme, ask me this no more: let it be sfishnt for you to know that I am ahonest man, and that a secret, what it would be misery for you to larn, must hang over all my actions--that is from ten o'clock till six. "

They went on chaffin and talking in this melumcolly and mysterusway, and I didn't lose a word of what they said; for them houses inPentonwille have only walls made of pasteboard, and you hear raytherbetter outside the room than in. But, though he kep up his secret, heswore to her his affektion this day pint blank. Nothing should preventhim, he said, from leading her to the halter, from makin her hisadoarable wife. After this was a slight silence. "Dearest Frederic, "mummered out miss, speakin as if she was chokin, "I am yours--yoursfor ever. " And then silence agen, and one or two smax, as if therewas kissin going on. Here I thought it best to give a rattle at thedoor-lock; for, as I live, there was old Mrs. Shum a-walkin down thestairs!

It appears that one of the younger gals, a-looking out of the bed-rumwindow, had seen my master come in, and coming down to tea half an hourafterwards, said so in a cussary way. Old Mrs. Shum, who was a dragon ofvertyou, cam bustling down the stairs, panting and frowning, as fat andas fierce as a old sow at feedin time. 

"Where's the lodger, fellow?" says she to me. 

I spoke loud enough to be heard down the street--"If you mean, ma'am, my master, Mr. Frederic Altamont, esquire, he's just stept in, and isputtin on clean shoes in his bedroom. "

She said nothink in answer, but flumps past me, and opening theparlor-door, sees master looking very queer, and Miss Mary a-droopingdown her head like a pale lily. 

"Did you come into my famly, " says she, "to corrupt my daughters, and todestroy the hinnocence of that infamous gal? Did you come here, sir, asa seducer, or only as a lodger? Speak, sir, speak!"--and she folded herarms quite fierce, and looked like Mrs. Siddums in the Tragic Mews. 

"I came here, Mrs. Shum, " said he, "because I loved your daughter, orI never would have condescended to live in such a beggarly hole. I havetreated her in every respect like a genlmn, and she is as innocent now, ma'm, as she was when she was born. If she'll marry me, I am ready;if she'll leave you, she shall have a home where she shall be neitherbullyd nor starved: no hangry frumps of sisters, no cross mother-in-law, only an affeckshnat husband, and all the pure pleasures of Hyming. "

Mary flung herself into his arms--"Dear, dear Frederic, " says she, "I'llnever leave you. "

"Miss, " says Mrs. Shum, "you ain't a Slamcoe nor yet a Buckmaster, thankGod. You may marry this person if your pa thinks proper, and he mayinsult me--brave me--trample on my feelinx in my own house--and there'sno-o-o-obody by to defend me. "

I knew what she was going to be at: on came her histarrix agen, and shebegan screechin and roaring like mad. Down comes of course the elevengals and old Shum. There was a pretty row. "Look here, sir, " says she, "at the conduck of your precious trull of a daughter--alone with thisman, kissin and dandlin, and Lawd knows what besides. "

"What, he?" cries Miss Betsy--"he in love with Mary. Oh, the wretch, themonster, the deceiver!"--and she falls down too, screeching away as loudas her mamma; for the silly creature fancied still that Altamont had afondness for her. 

"SILENCE THESE WOMEN!" shouts out Altamont, thundering loud. "I loveyour daughter, Mr. Shum. I will take her without a penny, and can affordto keep her. If you don't give her to me, she'll come of her own will. Is that enough?--may I have her?"

"We'll talk of this matter, sir, " says Mr. Shum, looking as high andmighty as an alderman. "Gals, go up stairs with your dear mamma. "--Andthey all trooped up again, and so the skrimmage ended. 

You may be sure that old Shum was not very sorry to get a husband forhis daughter Mary, for the old creatur loved her better than all thepack which had been brought him or born to him by Mrs. Buckmaster. But, strange to say, when he came to talk of settlements and so forth, nota word would my master answer. He said he made four hundred a yearreglar--he wouldn't tell how--but Mary, if she married him, must shareall that he had, and ask no questions; only this he would say, as he'dsaid before, that he was a honest man. 

They were married in a few days, and took a very genteel house atIslington; but still my master went away to business, and nobody knewwhere. Who could he be?

CHAPTER III. 

If ever a young kipple in the middlin classes began life with a chanceof happiness, it was Mr. And Mrs. Frederic Altamont. There house atCannon Row, Islington, was as comfortable as house could be. Carpitedfrom top to to; pore's rates small; furnitur elygant; and threedeomestix: of which I, in course, was one. My life wasn't so easy asin Mr. A. 's bachelor days; but, what then? The three W's is my maxum:plenty of work, plenty of wittles, and plenty of wages. Altamont kep hisgig no longer, but went to the city in an omlibuster. 

One would have thought, I say, that Mrs. A. , with such an effeckshnuthusband, might have been as happy as her blessid majisty. Nothing of thesort. For the fust six months it was all very well; but then she grewgloomier and gloomier, though A. Did everythink in life to please her. 

Old Shum used to come reglarly four times a wick to Cannon Row, wherehe lunched, and dined, and teed, and supd. The pore little man was athought too fond of wine and spirits; and many and many's the night thatI've had to support him home. And you may be sure that Miss Betsy didnot now desert her sister: she was at our place mornink, noon, andnight; not much to my mayster's liking, though he was too good-naturedto wex his wife in trifles. 

But Betsy never had forgotten the recollection of old days, and hatedAltamont like the foul feind. She put all kind of bad things intothe head of poor innocent missis; who, from being all gayety andcheerfulness, grew to be quite melumcolly and pale, and retchid, just asif she had been the most misrable woman in the world. 

In three months more, a baby comes, in course, and with it old Mrs. Shum, who stuck to Mrs. ' side as close as a wampire, and made herretchider and retchider. She used to bust into tears when Altamontcame home: she used to sigh and wheep over the pore child, and say, "Mychild, my child, your father is false to me;" or, "your father deceivesme;" or "what will you do when your pore mother is no more?" or suchlike sentimental stuff. 

It all came from Mother Shum, and her old trix, as I soon found out. The fact is, when there is a mistry of this kind in the house, its aservant's DUTY to listen; and listen I did, one day when Mrs. Was cryinas usual, and fat Mrs. Shum a sittin consolin her, as she called it:though, heaven knows, she only grew wuss and wuss for the consolation. 

Well, I listened; Mrs. Shum was a-rockin the baby, and missis cryin asyousual. 

"Pore dear innocint, " says Mrs. S. , heavin a great sigh, "you're thechild of a unknown father and a misrable mother. "

"Don't speak ill of Frederic, mamma, " says missis; "he is all kindnessto me. "

"All kindness, indeed! yes, he gives you a fine house, and a fine gownd, and a ride in a fly whenever you please; but WHERE DOES ALL HISMONEY COME FROM? Who is he--what is he? Who knows that he mayn't be amurderer, or a housebreaker, or a utterer of forged notes? How can hemake his money honestly, when he won't say where he gets it? Why does heleave you eight hours every blessid day, and won't say where he goes to?Oh, Mary, Mary, you are the most injured of women!"

And with this Mrs. Shum began sobbin; and Miss Betsy began yowling likea cat in a gitter; and pore missis cried, too--tears is so remarkableinfeckshus. 

"Perhaps, mamma, " wimpered out she, "Frederic is a shop-boy, and don'tlike me to know that he is not a gentleman. "

"A shopboy, " says Betsy, "he a shopboy! O no, no, no! more likely awretched willain of a murderer, stabbin and robing all day, and feedinyou with the fruits of his ill-gotten games!"

More crying and screechin here took place, in which the baby joined; andmade a very pretty consort, I can tell you. 

"He can't be a robber, " cries missis; "he's too good, too kind, forthat: besides, murdering is done at night, and Frederic is always homeat eight. "

"But he can be a forger, " says Betsy, "a wicked, wicked FORGER. Why doeshe go away every day? to forge notes, to be sure. Why does he go tothe city? to be near banks and places, and so do it more at hisconvenience. "

"But he brings home a sum of money every day--about thirtyshillings--sometimes fifty: and then he smiles, and says it's a goodday's work. This is not like a forger, " said pore Mrs. A. 

"I have it--I have it!" screams out Mrs. S. "The villain--the sneaking, double-faced Jonas! he's married to somebody else he is, and that's whyhe leaves you, the base biggymist!"

At this, Mrs. Altamont, struck all of a heap, fainted clean away. Adreadful business it was--hystarrix; then hystarrix, in course, fromMrs. Shum; bells ringin, child squalin, suvvants tearin up and downstairs with hot water! If ever there is a noosance in the world, it's ahouse where faintain is always goin on. I wouldn't live in one, --no, notto be groom of the chambers, and git two hundred a year. 

It was eight o'clock in the evenin when this row took place; and sucha row it was, that nobody but me heard master's knock. He came in, andheard the hooping, and screeching, and roaring. He seemed very muchfrightened at first, and said, "What is it?"

"Mrs. Shum's here, " says I, "and Mrs. In astarrix. "

Altamont looked as black as thunder, and growled out a word which Idon't like to name, --let it suffice that it begins with a D and endswith a NATION; and he tore up stairs like mad. 

He bust open the bedroom door; missis lay quite pale and stony on thesofy; the babby was screechin from the craddle; Miss Betsy was sprawlinover missis; and Mrs. Shum half on the bed and half on the ground: allhowlin and squeelin, like so many dogs at the moond. 

When A. Came in, the mother and daughter stopped all of a sudding. Therehad been one or two tiffs before between them, and they feared him as ifhe had been a hogre. 

"What's this infernal screeching and crying about?" says he. "Oh, Mr. Altamont, " cries the old woman, "you know too well; it's about you thatthis darling child is misrabble!"

"And why about me, pray, madam?"

"Why, sir, dare you ask why? Because you deceive her, sir; because youare a false, cowardly traitor, sir; because YOU HAVE A WIFE ELSEWHERE, SIR!" And the old lady and Miss Betsy began to roar again as loud asever. 

Altamont pawsed for a minnit, and then flung the door wide open; nex heseized Miss Betsy as if his hand were a vice, and he world her out ofthe room; then up he goes to Mrs. S. "Get up, " says he, thundering loud, "you lazy, trolloping, mischsef-making, lying old fool! Get up, and getout of this house. You have been the cuss and bain of my happynisssince you entered it. With your d----d lies, and novvle rending, andhisterrix, you have perwerted Mary, and made her almost as mad asyourself. "

"My child! my child!" shriex out Mrs. Shum, and clings round missis. ButAltamont ran between them, and griping the old lady by her arm, draggedher to the door. "Follow your daughter, ma'm, " says he, and down shewent. "CHAWLS, SEE THOSE LADIES TO THE DOOR, " he hollows out, "and neverlet them pass it again. " We walked down together, and off they went: andmaster locked and double-locked the bedroom door after him, intendin, of course, to have a tator-tator (as they say) with his wife. You may besure that I followed up stairs again pretty quick, to hear the result oftheir confidence. 

As they say at St. Stevenses, it was rayther a stormy debate. "Mary, "says master, "you're no longer the merry greatful gal I knew and lovedat Pentonwill: there's some secret a pressin on you--there's nosmilin welcom for me now, as there used formly to be! Your mother andsister-in-law have perwerted you, Mary: and that's why I've drove themfrom this house, which they shall not re-enter in my life. "

"O, Frederic! it's YOU is the cause, and not I. Why do you have anymistry from me? Where do you spend your days? Why did you leave me, even on the day of your marridge, for eight hours, and continue to do soevery day?"

"Because, " says he, "I makes my livelihood by it. I leave you, and don'ttell you HOW I make it: for it would make you none the happier to know. "

It was in this way the convysation ren on--more tears and questions onmy missises part, more sturmness and silence on my master's: it endedfor the first time since their marridge, in a reglar quarrel. Werydifrent, I can tell you, from all the hammerous billing and kewing whichhad proceeded their nupshuls. 

Master went out, slamming the door in a fury; as well he might. Says he, "If I can't have a comforable life, I can have a jolly one;" and sohe went off to the hed tavern, and came home that evening beeslyintawsicated. When high words begin in a family drink generally followson the genlman's side; and then, fearwell to all conjubial happyniss!These two pipple, so fond and loving, were now sirly, silent, and fullof il wil. Master went out earlier, and came home later; missis criedmore, and looked even paler than before. 

Well, things went on in this uncomfortable way, master still in themopes, missis tempted by the deamons of jellosy and curosity; until asinglar axident brought to light all the goings on of Mr. Altamont. 

It was the tenth of January; I recklect the day, for old Shum gev mehalf a crownd (the fust and last of his money I ever see, by the way):he was dining along with master, and they were making merry together. 

Master said, as he was mixing his fifth tumler of punch and little Shumhis twelfth or so--master said, "I see you twice in the City to-day, Mr. Shum. "

"Well, that's curous!" says Shum. "I WAS in the City. To-day's the daywhen the divvydins (God bless 'em) is paid; and me and Mrs. S. Went forour half-year's inkem. But we only got out of the coach, crossed thestreet to the Bank, took our money, and got in agen. How could you seeme twice?"

Altamont stuttered and stammered and hemd, and hawd. "O!" says he, "Iwas passing--passing as you went in and out. " And he instantly turnedthe conversation, and began talking about pollytix, or the weather, orsome such stuff. 

"Yes, my dear, " said my missis, "but how could you see papa TWICE?"Master didn't answer, but talked pollytix more than ever. Still shewould continy on. "Where was you, my dear, when you saw pa? What wereyou doing, my love, to see pa twice?" and so forth. Master lookedangrier and angrier, and his wife only pressed him wuss and wuss. 

This was, as I said, little Shum's twelfth tumler; and I knew prittywell that he could git very little further; for, as reglar as thethirteenth came, Shum was drunk. The thirteenth did come, and itsconsquinzes. I was obliged to leed him home to John Street, where I lefthim in the hangry arms of Mrs. Shum. 

"How the d--, " sayd he all the way, "how the d-dd--thededdy--deddy--devil--could he have seen me TWICE?"

CHAPTER IV. 

It was a sad slip on Altamont's part, for no sooner did he go out thenext morning than missis went out too. She tor down the street, andnever stopped till she came to her pa's house at Pentonwill. She wasclositid for an hour with her ma, and when she left her she drovestraight to the City. She walked before the Bank, and behind the Bank, and round the Bank: she came home disperryted, having learned nothink. 

And it was now an extraordinary thing that from Shum's house for thenext ten days there was nothing but expyditions into the city. Mrs. S. , tho her dropsicle legs had never carred her half so fur before, waseternally on the key veve, as the French say. If she didn't go, MissBetsy did, or misses did: they seemed to have an attrackshun to theBank, and went there as natral as an omlibus. 

At last one day, old Mrs. Shum comes to our house--(she wasn't admittedwhen master was there, but came still in his absints)--and she wore ahair of tryumph, as she entered. "Mary, " says she, "where is the moneyyour husbind brought to you yesterday?" My master used always to give itto missis when he returned. 

"The money, ma!" says Mary. "Why here!" And pulling out her puss, sheshowed a sovrin, a good heap of silver, and an odd-looking little coin. 

"THAT'S IT! that's it!" cried Mrs. S. "A Queene Anne's sixpence, isn'tit, dear--dated seventeen hundred and three?"

It was so sure enough: a Queen Ans sixpence of that very date. 

"Now, my love, " says she, "I have found him! Come with me to-morrow, andyou shall KNOW ALL!"

And now comes the end of my story. 

 . . . . . . 

The ladies nex morning set out for the City, and I walked behind, doingthe genteel thing, with a nosegy and a goold stick. We walked down theNew Road--we walked down the City Road--we walked to the Bank. We werecrossing from that heddyfiz to the other side of Cornhill, when all of asudden missis shreeked, and fainted spontaceously away. 

I rushed forrard, and raised her to my arms: spiling thereby a newweskit and a pair of crimson smalcloes. I rushed forrard. I say, verynearly knocking down the old sweeper who was hobbling away as fast asposibil. We took her to Birch's; we provided her with a hackney-coachand every lucksury, and carried her home to Islington. 

 . . . . . . 

That night master never came home. Nor the nex night, nor the nex. On the fourth day an octioneer arrived; he took an infantry of thefurnitur, and placed a bill in the window. 

At the end of the wick Altamont made his appearance. He was haggard andpale; not so haggard, however, not so pale as his miserable wife. 

He looked at her very tendrilly. I may say, it's from him that I coppiedMY look to Miss ----. He looked at her very tendrilly and held out hisarms. She gev a suffycating shreek, and rusht into his umbraces. 

"Mary, " says he, "you know all now. I have sold my place; I have gotthree thousand pounds for it, and saved two more. I've sold my houseand furnitur, and that brings me another. We'll go abroad and love eachother, has formly. "

And now you ask me, Who he was? I shudder to relate. --Mr. Haltamont SWEPTHE CROSSING FROM THE BANK TO CORNHILL!!

Of cors, I left his servis. I met him, few years after, atBadden-Badden, where he and Mrs. A. Were much respectid, and pass forpipple of propaty. 

THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE. 

DIMOND CUT DIMOND. 

The name of my nex master was, if posbil, still more ellygant andyoufonious than that of my fust. I now found myself boddy servant to theHonrabble Halgernon Percy Deuceace, youngest and fifth son of the Earlof Crabs. 

Halgernon was a barrystir--that is, he lived in Pump Cort, Temple: awulgar naybrood, witch praps my readers don't no. Suffiz to say, it's onthe confines of the citty, and the choasen aboad of the lawyers of thismetrappolish. 

When I say that Mr. Deuceace was a barrystir, I don't mean that hewent sesshums or surcoats (as they call 'em), but simply that he kepchambers, lived in Pump Cort, and looked out for a commitionarship, ora revisinship, or any other place that the Wig guvvyment could givehim. His father was a Wig pier (as the landriss told me), and had beena Toary pier. The fack is, his lordship was so poar, that he would beanythink or nothink, to get provisions for his sons and an inkum forhimself. 

I phansy that he aloud Halgernon two hundred a year; and it would havebeen a very comforable maintenants, only he knever paid him. 

Owever, the young genlmn was a genlmn, and no mistake; he got hisallowents of nothing a year, and spent it in the most honrabble andfashnabble manner. He kep a kab---he went to Holmax--and Crockfud's--hemoved in the most xquizzit suckles and trubbld the law boox very little, I can tell you. Those fashnabble gents have ways of getten money, witchcomman pipple doan't understand. 

Though he only had a therd floar in Pump Cort, he lived as if he hadthe welth of Cresas. The tenpun notes floo abowt as common ashaypince--clarrit and shampang was at his house as vulgar as gin; andverry glad I was, to be sure, to be a valley to a zion of the nobillaty. 

Deuceace had, in his sittin-room, a large pictur on a sheet of paper. The names of his family was wrote on it; it was wrote in the shape ofa tree, a-groin out of a man-in-armer's stomick, and the names were onlittle plates among the bows. The pictur said that the Deuceaces keminto England in the year 1066, along with William Conqueruns. My mastercalled it his podygree. I do bleev it was because he had this pictur, and because he was the HONRABBLE Deuceace, that he mannitched to liveas he did. If he had been a common man, you'd have said he was nobetter than a swinler. It's only rank and buth that can warrant suchsingularities as my master show'd. For it's no use disgysing it--theHonrabble Halgernon was a GAMBLER. For a man of wulgar family, it's thewust trade that can be--for a man of common feelinx of honesty, thisprofession is quite imposbil; but for a real thoroughbread genlmn, it'sthe esiest and most prophetable line he can take. 

It may praps appear curious that such a fashnabble man should live inthe Temple; but it must be recklected, that it's not only lawyers wholive in what's called the Ins of Cort. Many batchylers, who have nothinkto do with lor, have here their loginx; and many sham barrysters, whonever put on a wig and gownd twise in their lives, kip apartments in theTemple, instead of Bon Street, Pickledilly, or other fashnabble places. 

Frinstance, on our stairkis (so these houses are called), there was8 sets of chamberses, and only 3 lawyers. These was bottom floar, Screwson, Hewson, and Jewson, attorneys; fust floar, Mr. SergeantFlabber--opsite, Mr. Counslor Bruffy; and secknd pair, Mr. Haggerstony, an Irish counslor, praktising at the Old Baly, and lickwise what theycall reporter to the Morning Post nyouspapper. Opsite him was wrote

 MR. RICHARD BLEWITT;

and on the thud floar, with my master, lived one Mr. Dawkins. 

This young fellow was a new comer into the Temple, and unlucky it wasfor him too--he'd better have never been born; for it's my firm apinionthat the Temple ruined him--that is, with the help of my master and Mr. Dick Blewitt: as you shall hear. 

Mr. Dawkins, as I was gave to understand by his young man, had just leftthe Universary of Oxford, and had a pretty little fortn of his own--sixthousand pound, or so--in the stox. He was jest of age, an orfin whohad lost his father and mother; and having distinkwished hisself atCollitch, where he gained seffral prices, was come to town to push hisfortn, and study the barryster's bisness. 

Not bein of a very high fammly hisself--indeed, I've heard say hisfather was a chismonger, or somethink of that lo sort--Dawkins was gladto find his old Oxford frend, Mr. Blewitt, yonger son to rich SquireBlewitt, of Listershire, and to take rooms so near him. 

Now, tho' there was a considdrable intimacy between me and Mr. Blewitt'sgentleman, there was scarcely any betwixt our masters, --mine beingtoo much of the aristoxy to associate with one of Mr. Blewitt's sort. Blewitt was what they call a bettin man; he went reglar to Tattlesall's, kep a pony, wore a white hat, a blue berd's-eye handkercher, and acut-away coat. In his manners he was the very contrary of my master, whowas a slim, ellygant man as ever I see--he had very white hands, raythera sallow face, with sharp dark ise, and small wiskus neatly trimmed andas black as Warren's jet--he spoke very low and soft--he seemed to bewatchin the person with whom he was in convysation, and always flatterdeverybody. As for Blewitt, he was quite of another sort. He was alwaysswearin, singing, and slappin people on the back, as hearty as posbill. He seemed a merry, careless, honest cretur, whom one would trust withlife and soul. So thought Dawkins, at least; who, though a quiet youngman, fond of his boox, novvles, Byron's poems, foot-playing, and suchlike scientafic amusemints, grew hand in glove with honest Dick Blewitt, and soon after with my master, the Honrabble Halgernon. Poor Daw! hethought he was makin good connexions and real frends--he had fallen inwith a couple of the most etrocious swinlers that ever lived. 

Before Mr. Dawkins's arrivial in our house, Mr. Deuceace had barelycondysended to speak to Mr. Blewitt; it was only about a month afterthat suckumstance that my master, all of a sudding, grew very friendlywith him. The reason was pretty clear, --Deuceace WANTED HIM. Dawkins hadnot been an hour in master's company before he knew that he had a pidginto pluck. 

Blewitt knew this too: and bein very fond of pidgin, intended tokeep this one entirely to himself. It was amusin to see the HonrabbleHalgernon manuvring to get this poor bird out of Blewitt's clause, whothought he had it safe. In fact, he'd brought Dawkins to these chambersfor that very porpos, thinking to have him under his eye, and strip himat leisure. 

My master very soon found out what was Mr. Blewitt's game. Gamblersknow gamblers, if not by instink, at least by reputation; and though Mr. Blewitt moved in a much lower speare than Mr. Deuceace, they knew eachother's dealins and caracters puffickly well. 

"Charles you scoundrel, " says Deuceace to me one day (he always spoak inthat kind way), "who is this person that has taken the opsit chambers, and plays the flute so industrusly?"

"It's Mr. Dawkins, a rich young gentleman from Oxford, and a greatfriend of Mr. Blewittses, sir, " says I; "they seem to live in eachother's rooms. "

Master said nothink, but he GRIN'D--my eye, how he did grin. Not thefowl find himself could snear more satannickly. 

I knew what he meant:

Imprimish. A man who plays the floot is a simpleton. 

Secknly. Mr. Blewitt is a raskle. 

Thirdmo. When a raskle and a simpleton is always together, and when thesimpleton is RICH, one knows pretty well what will come of it. 

I was but a lad in them days, but I knew what was what, as well as mymaster; it's not gentlemen only that's up to snough. Law bless us! therewas four of us on this stairkes, four as nice young men as you ever see:Mr. Bruffy's young man, Mr. Dawkinses, Mr. Blewitt's, and me--andwe knew what our masters was about as well as thay did theirselfs. Frinstance, I can say this for MYSELF, there wasn't a paper inDeuceace's desk or drawer, not a bill, a note, or mimerandum, which Ihadn't read as well as he: with Blewitt's it was the same--me and hisyoung man used to read 'em all. There wasn't a bottle of wine that wedidn't get a glass out of, nor a pound of sugar that we didn't have somelumps of it. We had keys to all the cubbards--we pipped into all theletters that kem and went---we pored over all the bill-files--we'd thebest pickens out of the dinners, the livvers of the fowls, the forcemitballs out of the soup, the egs from the sallit. As for the coalsand candles, we left them to the landrisses. You may call thisrobry--nonsince--it's only our rights--a suvvant's purquizzits is assacred as the laws of Hengland. 

Well, the long and short of it is this. Richard Blewitt, esquire, wassityouated as follows: He'd an incum of three hundred a year from hisfather. Out of this he had to pay one hundred and ninety for moneyborrowed by him at collidge, seventy for chambers, seventy more for hishoss, aty for his suvvant on bord wagis, and about three hundred andfifty for a sepparat establishment in the Regency Park; besides this, his pockit-money, say a hunderd, his eatin, drinkin, and wine-marchant'sbill, about two hunderd moar. So that you see he laid by a prettyhandsome sum at the end of the year. 

My master was diffrent; and being a more fashnable man than Mr. B. , incourse he owed a deal more mony. There was fust:

 Account contray, at Crockford's L 3711 0 0 Bills of xchange and I. O. U. 's (but he didn't pay these in most cases) 4963 0 0 21 tailors' bills, in all 1306 11 9 3 hossdealers' do 402 0 0 2 coachbuilder 506 0 0 Bills contracted at Cambridtch 2193 6 8 Sundries 987 10 0 ------------ L 14069 8 5

I give this as a curosity--pipple doan't know how in many casesfashnabble life is carried on; and to know even what a real gnlmn OWESis somethink instructif and agreeable. 

But to my tail. The very day after my master had made the inquiriesconcerning Mr. Dawkins, witch I mentioned already, he met Mr. Blewitt onthe stairs; and byoutiffle it was to see how this gnlmn, who had beforebeen almost cut by my master, was now received by him. One ofthe sweetest smiles I ever saw was now vizzable on Mr. Deuceace'scountenance. He held out his hand, covered with a white kid glove, andsaid, in the most frenly tone of vice posbill, "What! Mr. Blewitt? It isan age since we met. What a shame that such near naybors should see eachother so seldom!"

Mr. Blewitt, who was standing at his door, in a pe-green dressing-gown, smoakin a segar, and singing a hunting coarus, looked surprised, flattered, and then suspicious. 

"Why, yes, " says he, "it is, Mr. Deuceace, a long time. "

"Not, I think, since we dined at Sir George Hookey's. By-the-by, whatan evening that was--hay, Mr. Blewitt? What wine! what capital songs! Irecollect your 'May-day in the morning'--cuss me, the best comick songI ever heard. I was speaking to the Duke of Doncaster about it onlyyesterday. You know the duke, I think?"

Mr. Blewitt said, quite surly, "No, I don't. "

"Not know him!" cries master; "why, hang it, Blewitt! he knows YOU; asevery sporting man in England does, I should think. Why, man, your goodthings are in everybody's mouth at Newmarket. "

And so master went on chaffin Mr. Blewitt. That genlmn at fust answeredhim quite short and angry: but, after a little more flummery, he grew aspleased as posbill, took in all Deuceace's flatry, and bleeved allhis lies. At last the door shut, and they both went into Mr. Blewitt'schambers together. 

Of course I can't say what past there; but in an hour master kem up tohis own room as yaller as mustard, and smellin sadly of backo smoke. Inever see any genmln more sick than he was; HE'D BEEN SMOAKIN SEAGARSalong with Blewitt. I said nothink, in course, tho I'd often heard himxpress his horrow of backo, and knew very well he would as soon swallowpizon as smoke. But he wasn't a chap to do a thing without a reason: ifhe'd been smoakin, I warrant he had smoked to some porpus. 

I didn't hear the convysation betwean 'em; but Mr. Blewitt's man did:it was, --"Well, Mr. Blewitt, what capital seagars! Have you one fora friend to smoak?" (The old fox, it wasn't only the SEAGARS he wasa-smoakin!) "Walk in, " says Mr. Blewitt; and they began a chaffintogether; master very ankshous about the young gintleman who had cometo live in our chambers, Mr. Dawkins, and always coming back to thatsubject, --saying that people on the same stairkis ot to be frenly; howglad he'd be, for his part, to know Mr. Dick Blewitt, and ANY FRIEND OFHIS, and so on. Mr. Dick, howsever, seamed quite aware of the traplaid for him. "I really don't know this Dawkins, " says he: "he's achismonger's son, I hear; and tho I've exchanged visits with him, Idoan't intend to continyou the acquaintance, --not wishin to assoshatewith that kind of pipple. " So they went on, master fishin, and Mr. Blewitt not wishin to take the hook at no price. 

"Confound the vulgar thief!" muttard my master, as he was laying on hissophy, after being so very ill; "I've poisoned myself with his infernaltobacco, and he has foiled me. The cursed swindling boor! he thinkshe'll ruin this poor Cheese-monger, does he? I'll step in, and WARNhim. "

I thought I should bust a-laffin, when he talked in this style. I knewvery well what his "warning" meant, --lockin the stable-door but stealinthe hoss fust. 

Next day, his strattygam for becoming acquainted with Mr. Dawkins weexicuted; and very pritty it was. 

Besides potry and the flute, Mr. Dawkins, I must tell you, had someother parshallities--wiz. , he was very fond of good eatin and drinkin. After doddling over his music and boox all day, this young genlmn usedto sally out of evenings, dine sumptiously at a tavern, drinkin allsorts of wine along with his friend Mr. Blewitt. He was a quiet youngfellow enough at fust; but it was Mr. B. Who (for his own porpuses, nodoubt, ) had got him into this kind of life. Well, I needn't say that hewho eats a fine dinner, and drinks too much overnight, wants a bottleof soda-water, and a gril, praps, in the morning. Such was Mr. Dawkinsescase; and reglar almost as twelve o'clock came, the waiter from "DixCoffy-House" was to be seen on our stairkis, bringing up Mr. D. 's hotbreakfast. 

No man would have thought there was anythink in such a triflingcirkumstance; master did, though, and pounced upon it like a cock on abarlycorn. 

He sent me out to Mr. Morell's in Pickledilly, for wot's called aStrasbug-pie--in French, a "patty defau graw. " He takes a card, andnails it on the outside case (patty defaw graws come generally in around wooden box, like a drumb); and what do you think he writes on it?why, as follos:--"For the Honorable Algernon Percy Deuceace, &c. &c. &c. With Prince Talleyrand's compliments. "

Prince Tallyram's complimints, indeed! I laff when I think of it, still, the old surpint! He WAS a surpint, that Deuceace, and no mistake. 

Well, by a most extrornary piece of ill-luck, the nex day punctiallyas Mr. Dawkinses brexfas was coming UP the stairs, Mr. Halgernon PercyDeuceace was going DOWN. He was as gay as a lark, humming an Oppra tune, and twizzting round his head his hevy gold-headed cane. Down he wentvery fast, and by a most unlucky axdent struck his cane against thewaiter's tray, and away went Mr. Dawkinses gril, kayann, kitchup, soda-water and all! I can't think how my master should have choas suchan exact time; to be sure, his windo looked upon the court, and he couldsee every one who came into our door. 

As soon as the axdent had took place, master was in such a rage as, tobe sure, no man ever was in befor; he swoar at the waiter in the mostdreddfle way; he threatened him with his stick, and it was only when hesee that the waiter was rayther a bigger man than hisself that he wasin the least pazzyfied. He returned to his own chambres; and John, thewaiter, went off for more gril to Dixes Coffy-house. 

"This is a most unlucky axdent, to be sure, Charles, " says master to me, after a few minits paws, during witch he had been and wrote a note, put it into an anvelope, and sealed it with his big seal of arms. "Butstay--a thought strikes me--take this note to Mr. Dawkins, and that pyeyou brought yesterday; and hearkye, you scoundrel, if you say where yougot it I will break every bone in your skin!"

These kind of promises were among the few which I knew him to keep: andas I loved boath my skinn and my boans, I carried the noat, and of corssaid nothink. Waiting in Mr. Dawkinses chambus for a few minnits, Ireturned to my master with an anser. I may as well give both of thesedocumence, of which I happen to have taken coppies:

 I. 

 THE HON. A. P. DEUCEACE TO T. S. DAWKINS, ESQ. 

 "TEMPLE, Tuesday. 

 "Mr. DEUCEACE presents his compliments to Mr. Dawkins, and begs at the same time to offer his most sincere apologies and regrets for the accident which has just taken place. 

 "May Mr. Deuceace be allowed to take a neighbor's privilege, and to remedy the evil he has occasioned to the best of his power if Mr. Dawkins will do him the favor to partake of the contents of the accompanying case (from Strasbourg direct, and the gift of a friend, on whose taste as a gourmand Mr. Dawkins may rely), perhaps he will find that it is not a bad substitute for the plat which Mr. Deuceace's awkwardness destroyed. 

 "It will also, Mr. Deuceace is sure, be no small gratification to the original donor of the 'pate', when he learns that it has fallen into the hands of so celebrated a bon vivant as Mr. Dawkins. 

 "T. S. DAWKINS, Esq. , &c. &c. &c. "

 II. 

 FROM T. S. DAWKINS, ESQ. , TO THE HON. A. P. DEUCEACE. 

 "MR. THOMAS SMITH DAWKINS presents his grateful compliments to the Hon. Mr. Deuceace, and accepts with the greatest pleasure Mr. Deuceace's generous proffer. 

 "It would be one of the HAPPIEST MOMENTS of Mr. Smith Dawkins's life, if the Hon. Mr. Deuceace would EXTEND HIS GENEROSITY still further, and condescend to partake of the repast which his MUNIFICENT POLITENESS has furnished. 

 "TEMPLE, Tuesday. "

Many and many a time, I say, have I grin'd over these letters, whichI had wrote from the original by Mr. Bruffy's copyin clark. Deuceace'sflam about Prince Tallyram was puffickly successful. I saw young Dawkinsblush with delite as he red the note; he toar up for or five sheetsbefore he composed the answer to it, which was as you red abuff, androat in a hand quite trembling with pleasyer. If you could but have seenthe look of triumph in Deuceace's wicked black eyes, when he read thenoat! I never see a deamin yet, but I can phansy 1, a holding a writhingsoal on his pitchfrock, and smilin like Deuceace. He dressed himself inhis very best clothes, and in he went, after sending me over to say thathe would except with pleasyour Mr. Dawkins's invite. 

The pie was cut up, and a most frenly conversation begun betwixt the twogenlmin. Deuceace was quite captivating. He spoke to Mr. Dawkins inthe most respeckful and flatrin manner, --agread in every think hesaid, --prazed his taste, his furniter, his coat, his classick nolledge, and his playin on the floot; you'd have thought, to hear him, that sucha polygon of exlens as Dawkins did not breath, --that such a modist, sinsear, honrabble genlmn as Deuceace was to be seen nowhere xceptin Pump Cort. Poor Daw was complitly taken in. My master said he'dintroduce him to the Duke of Doncaster, and heaven knows how many nobsmore, till Dawkins was quite intawsicated with pleasyour. I know as afac (and it pretty well shows the young genlmn's carryter), that he wentthat very day and ordered 2 new coats, on porpos to be introjuiced tothe lords in. 

But the best joak of all was at last. Singin, swagrin, and swarink--upstares came Mr. Dick Blewitt. He flung opn Mr. Dawkins's door, shoutingout, "Daw my old buck, how are you?" when, all of a sudden, he sees Mr. Deuceace: his jor dropt, he turned chocky white, and then burnin red, and looked as if a stror would knock him down. "My dear Mr. Blewitt, "says my master, smilin and offring his hand, "how glad I am to see you. Mr. Dawkins and I were just talking about your pony! Pray sit down. "

Blewitt did; and now was the question, who should sit the other out; butlaw bless you! Mr. Blewitt was no match for my master: all the time hewas fidgetty, silent, and sulky; on the contry, master was charmin. I never herd such a flo of conversatin, or so many wittacisms as heuttered. At last, completely beat, Mr. Blewitt took his leaf; thatinstant master followed him; and passin his arm through that of Mr. Dick, led him into our chambers, and began talkin to him in the mostaffabl and affeckshnat manner. 

But Dick was too angry to listen; at last, when master was telling himsome long story about the Duke of Doncaster, Blewitt burst out--

"A plague on the Duke of Doncaster! Come, come, Mr. Deuceace, don'tyou be running your rigs upon me; I ain't the man to be bamboozl'd bylong-winded stories about dukes and duchesses. You think I don't knowyou; every man knows you and your line of country. Yes, you're afteryoung Dawkins there, and think to pluck him; but you shan't, --no, by ---- you shan't. " (The reader must recklect that the oaths whichinterspussed Mr. B. 's convysation I have left out. ) Well, after he'dfired a wolley of 'em, Mr. Deuceace spoke as cool as possbill. 

"Hark ye, Blewitt. I know you to be one of the most infernal thieves andscoundrels unhung. If you attempt to hector with me, I will cane you; ifyou want more, I'll shoot you; if you meddle between me and Dawkins, Iwill do both. I know your whole life, you miserable swindler and coward. I know you have already won two hundred pounds of this lad, and wantall. I will have half, or you never shall have a penny. " It's quite truethat master knew things; but how was the wonder. 

I couldn't see Mr. B. 's face during this dialogue, bein on the wrongside of the door; but there was a considdrable paws after thusecomplymints had passed between the two genlmn, --one walkin quickly upand down the room--tother, angry and stupid, sittin down, and stampinwith his foot. 

"Now listen to this, Mr. Blewitt, " continues master at last. "If you'requiet, you shall have half this fellow's money: but venture to win ashilling from him in my absence, or without my consent, and you do it atyour peril. "

"Well, well, Mr. Deuceace, " cries Dick, "it's very hard, and I must say, not fair: the game was of my startin, and you've no right to interferewith my friend. "

"Mr. Blewitt, you are a fool! You professed yesterday not to know thisman, and I was obliged to find him out for myself. I should like to knowby what law of honor I am bound to give him up to you?"

It was charmin to hear this pair of raskles talkin about HONOR. Ideclare I could have found it in my heart to warn young Dawkins of theprecious way in which these chaps were going to serve him. But if THEYdidn't know what honor was, I did; and never, never did I tell tailsabout my masters when in their sarvice--OUT, in cors, the hobligation isno longer binding. 

Well, the nex day there was a gran dinner at our chambers. White soop, turbit, and lobstir sos; saddil of Scoch muttn, grous, and M'Arony;wines, shampang, hock, maderia, a bottle of poart, and ever so manyof clarrit. The compny presint was three; wiz. , the Honrabble A. P. Deuceace, R. Blewitt, and Mr. Dawkins, Exquires. My i, how we genlmn inthe kitchin did enjy it. Mr. Blewittes man eat so much grous (when itwas brot out of the parlor), that I reely thought he would be sik; Mr. Dawkinses genlmn (who was only abowt 13 years of age) grew so il withM'Arony and plumb-puddn, as to be obleeged to take sefral of Mr. D's. Pils, which 1/2 kild him. But this is all promiscuous: I an't talkin ofthe survants now, but the masters. 

Would you bleeve it? After dinner and praps 8 bottles of wine betweenthe 3, the genlm sat down to ecarty. It's a game where only 2 plays, andwhere, in coarse, when there's only 3, one looks on. 

Fust, they playd crown pints, and a pound the bett. At this game theywere wonderful equill; and about supper-time (when grilled am, moreshampang, devld biskits, and other things, was brot in) the play stoodthus: Mr. Dawkins had won 2 pounds; Mr. Blewitt 30 shillings; theHonrabble Mr. Deuceace having lost 3L. L0s. After the devvle and theshampang the play was a little higher. Now it was pound pints, and fivepound the bet. I thought, to be sure, after hearing the complymintsbetween Blewitt and master in the morning, that now poor Dawkins's timewas come. 

Not so: Dawkins won always, Mr. B. Betting on his play, and giving himthe very best of advice. At the end of the evening (which was abowt fiveo'clock the nex morning) they stopt. Master was counting up the skore ona card. 

"Blewitt, " says he, "I've been unlucky. I owe you, let me see--yes, five-and-forty pounds?"

"Five-and-forty, " says Blewitt, "and no mistake!"

"I will give you a cheque, " says the honrabble genlmn. 

"Oh! don't mention it, my dear sir!" But master got a grate sheetof paper, and drew him a check on Messeers. Pump, Algit and Co. , hisbankers. 

"Now, " says master, "I've got to settle with you, my dear Mr. Dawkins. If you had backd your luck, I should have owed you a very handsome sumof money. Voyons, thirteen points at a pound--it is easy to calculate;"and drawin out his puss, he clinked over the table 13 goolden suverings, which shon till they made my eyes wink. 

So did pore Dawkinses, as he put out his hand, all trembling, and drewthem in. 

"Let me say, " added master, "let me say (and I've had some littleexperience), that you are the very best ecarte player with whom I eversat down. "

Dawkinses eyes glissened as he put the money up, and said, "Law, Deuceace, you flatter me. "

FLATTER him! I should think he did. It was the very think which masterment. 

"But mind you, Dawkins, " continyoud he, "I must have my revenge; for I'mruined--positively ruined by your luck. "

"Well, well, " says Mr. Thomas Smith Dawkins, as pleased as if he hadgained a millium, "shall it be to-morrow? Blewitt, what say you?"

Mr. Blewitt agreed, in course. My master, after a little demurring, consented too. "We'll meet, " says he, "at your chambers. But mind, mydear fello, not too much wine: I can't stand it at any time, especiallywhen I have to play ecarte with YOU. "

Pore Dawkins left our rooms as happy as a prins. "Here, Charles, " sayshe, and flung me a sovring. Pore fellow! pore fellow! I knew what wasa-comin!

But the best of it was, that these 13 sovrings which Dawkins won, MASTERHAD BORROWED THEM FROM MR. BLEWITT! I brought 'em, with 7 more, fromthat young genlmn's chambers that very morning: for, since his interviewwith master, Blewitt had nothing to refuse him. 

Well, shall I continue the tail? If Mr. Dawkins had been the least bitwiser, it would have taken him six months befoar he lost his money; asit was, he was such a confunded ninny, that it took him a very shorttime to part with it. 

Nex day (it was Thursday, and master's acquaintance with Mr. Dawkinshad only commenced on Tuesday), Mr. Dawkins, as I said, gev hisparty, --dinner at 7. Mr. Blewitt and the two Mr. D. 's as befoar. Playbegins at 11. This time I knew the bisness was pretty serious, forwe suvvants was packed off to bed at 2 o'clock. On Friday, I went tochambers--no master--he kem in for 5 minutes at about 12, made a littletoilit, ordered more devvles and soda-water, and back again he went toMr. Dawkins's. 

They had dinner there at 7 again, but nobody seamed to eat, for all thevittles came out to us genlmn: they had in more wine though, and musthave drunk at least two dozen in the 36 hours. 

At ten o'clock, however, on Friday night, back my master came to hischambers. I saw him as I never saw him before, namly reglar drunk. Hestaggered about the room, he danced, he hickipd, he swoar, he flung mea heap of silver, and, finely, he sunk down exosted on his bed; I pullinoff his boots and close, and making him comfrabble. 

When I had removed his garmints, I did what it's the duty of everyservant to do--I emtied his pockits, and looked at his pockit-book andall his letters: a number of axdents have been prevented that way. 

I found there, among a heap of things, the following pretty dockyment--

 I. O. U. L 4700. THOMAS SMITH DAWKINS. Friday, 16th January. 

There was another bit of paper of the same kind--"I. 0. U. Four hundredpounds: Richard Blewitt:" but this, in corse, ment nothink. 

 . . . . . . 

Nex mornin, at nine, master was up, and as sober as a judg. He drest, and was off to Mr. Dawkins. At ten, he ordered a cab, and the twogentlmn went together. 

"Where shall he drive, sir?" says I. 

"Oh, tell him to drive to THE BANK. "

Pore Dawkins! his eyes red with remors and sleepliss drunkenniss, gave ashudder and a sob, as he sunk back in the wehicle; and they drove on. 

That day he sold out every hapny he was worth, xcept five hundredpounds. 

 . . . . . . 

Abowt 12 master had returned, and Mr. Dick Blewitt came stridin up thestairs with a sollum and important hair. 

"Is your master at home?" says he. 

"Yes, sir, " says I; and in he walks. I, in coars, with my ear to thekeyhole, listning with all my mite. 

"Well, " says Blewitt, "we maid a pretty good night of it, Mr. Deuceace. Yu've settled, I see, with Dawkins. "

"Settled!" says master. "Oh, yes--yes--I've settled with him. "

"Four thousand seven hundred, I think?"

"About that--yes. "

"That makes my share--let me see--two thousand three hundred and fifty;which I'll thank you to fork out. "

"Upon my word--why--Mr. Blewitt, " says master, "I don't reallyunderstand what you mean. "

"YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT I MEAN!" says Blewitt, in an axent such as I neverbefore heard. "You don't know what I mean! Did you not promise me thatwe were to go shares? Didn't I lend you twenty sovereigns the othernight to pay our losings to Dawkins? Didn't you swear, on your honor asa gentleman, to give me half of all that might be won in this affair?"

"Agreed, sir, " says Deuceace; "agreed. "

"Well, sir, and now what have you to say?"

"Why, THAT I DON'T INTEND TO KEEP MY PROMISE! You infernal fool andninny! do you suppose I was laboring for YOU? Do you fancy I was goingto the expense of giving a dinner to that jackass yonder, thatyou should profit by it? Get away, sir! Leave the room, sir! Or, stop--here--I will give you four hundred pounds--your own note of hand, sir, for that sum, if you will consent to forget all that has passedbetween us, and that you have never known Mr. Algernon Deuceace. "

I've seen pipple angery before now, but never any like Blewitt. Hestormed, groaned, belloed, swoar! At last, he fairly began blubbring;now cussing and nashing his teeth, now praying dear Mr. Deuceace togrant him mercy. 

At last, master flung open the door (heaven bless us! it's well I didn'ttumble hed over eels into the room!), and said, "Charles, show thegentleman down stairs!" My master looked at him quite steddy. Blewittslunk down, as misrabble as any man I ever see. As for Dawkins, heavenknows where he was!

 . . . . . . 

"Charles, " says my master to me, about an hour afterwards, "I'm going toParis; you may come, too, if you please. "

FORING PARTS. 

It was a singular proof of my master's modesty, that though he had wonthis andsome sum of Mr. Dawkins, and was inclined to be as extravygantand osntatious as any man I ever seed, yet, when he determined on goingto Paris, he didn't let a single frend know of all them winnings of his;didn't acquaint my Lord Crabs his father, that he was about to leavehis natiff shoars--neigh--didn't even so much as call together histradesmin, and pay off their little bills befor his departure. 

On the contry, "Chawles, " said he to me, "stick a piece of paper on mydoor, " which is the way that lawyers do, "and write 'Back at seven'upon it. " Back at seven I wrote, and stuck it on our outer oak. And somistearus was Deuceace about his continental tour (to all except me), that when the landriss brought him her account for the last month(amountain, at the very least, to 2L. 10s. ), master told her to leave ittill Monday morning, when it should be properly settled. It's extrodnyhow ickonomical a man becomes, when he's got five thousand lbs. In hispockit. 

Back at 7 indeed! At 7 we were a-roalin on the Dover Road, in theReglator Coach--master inside, me out. A strange company of people therewas, too, in that wehicle, --3 sailors; an Italyin with his music-box andmunky; a missionary, going to convert the heathens in France; 2 oppragirls (they call 'em figure-aunts), and the figure-aunts' mothersinside; 4 Frenchmin, with gingybred caps and mustashes, singing, chattering, and jesticklating in the most vonderful vay. Suchcompliments as passed between them and the figure-aunts! such a munshinof biskits and sippin of brandy! such "O mong Jews, " and "O sacrrres, "and "kill fay frwaws!" I didn't understand their languidge at that time, so of course can't igsplain much of their conwersation; but it pleasedme, nevertheless, for now I felt that I was reely going into foringparts: which, ever sins I had had any edication at all, was always myfondest wish. Heavin bless us! thought I, if these are specimeens ofall Frenchmen, what a set they must be. The pore Italyin's monky, sittinmopin and meluncolly on his box, was not half so ugly, and seamed quiteas reasonabble. 

Well, we arrived at Dover--"Ship Hotel" weal cutlets half a ginny, glas of ale a shilling, glas of neagush, half a crownd, a hapnyworth ofwax-lites four shillings, and so on. But master paid without grumbling;as long as it was for himself he never minded the expens: and nex day weembarked in the packit for Balong sir-mare--which means in French, thetown of Balong sityouated on the sea. I who had heard of foringwonders, expected this to be the fust and greatest: phansy, then, mydisapintment, when we got there, to find this Balong, not situated onthe sea, but on the SHOAR. 

But oh! the gettin there was the bisniss. How I did wish for Pump Courtagin, as we were tawsing abowt in the Channel! Gentle reader, av youever been on the otion?--"The sea, the sea, the open sea!" as BarryCromwell says. As soon as we entered our little wessel, and I'dlooked to master's luggitch and mine (mine was rapt up in a very smallhankercher), as soon, I say, as we entered our little wessel, as soonas I saw the waives, black and frothy, like fresh drawn porter, a-dashinagainst the ribs of our galliant bark, the keal like a wedge, splittinthe billoes in two, the sales a-flaffin in the hair, the standard ofHengland floating at the mask-head, the steward a-getting ready thebasins and things, the capting proudly tredding the deck and givingorders to the salers, the white rox of Albany and the bathin-masheensdisappearing in the distans--then, then I felt, for the first time, the mite, the madgisty of existence. "Yellowplush my boy, " said I, in adialogue with myself, "your life is now about to commens--your carear, as a man, dates from your entrans on board this packit. Be wise, bemanly, be cautious, forgit the follies of your youth. You are no longera boy now, but a FOOTMAN. Throw down your tops, your marbles, yourboyish games--throw off your childish habbits with your inky clerk'sjackit--throw up your--"

 . . . . . . 

Here, I recklect, I was obleeged to stopp. A fealin, in the fust placesinglar, in the next place painful, and at last compleatly overpowering, had come upon me while I was making the abuff speach, and now I foundmyself in a sityouation which Dellixy for Bids me to describe. Suffis tosay, that now I dixcovered what basins was made for--that for many, manyhours, I lay in a hagony of exostion, dead to all intense and porpuses, the rain pattering in my face, the salers tramplink over my body--thepanes of purgatory going on inside. When we'd been about four hours inthis sityouation (it seam'd to me four ears), the steward comes to thatpart of the deck where we servants were all huddled up together, andcalls out "Charles!"

"Well, " says I, gurgling out a faint "yes, what's the matter?"

"You're wanted. "

"Where?"

"Your master's wery ill, " says he, with a grin. 

"Master be hanged!" says I, turning round, more misrable than ever. Iwoodn't have moved that day for twenty thousand masters--no, not for theEmpror of Russia or the Pop of Room. 

Well, to cut this sad subjik short, many and many a voyitch have I sinshad upon what Shakspur calls the "wasty dip, " but never such a retchedone as that from Dover to Balong, in the year Anna Domino 1818. Steemerswere scarce in those days; and our journey was made in a smack. At last, when I was in a stage of despare and exostion, as reely to phansy myselfat Death's doar, we got to the end of our journey. Late in the eveningwe hailed the Gaelic shoars, and hankered in the arbor of Balongsir-mare. 

It was the entrans of Parrowdice to me and master: and as we entered thecalm water, and saw the comfrabble lights gleaming in the houses, andfelt the roal of the vessel degreasing, never was two mortials gladder, I warrant, than we were. At length our capting drew up at the key, andour journey was down. But such a bustle and clatter, such jabbering, such shrieking and swaring, such wollies of oafs and axicrations assaluted us on landing, I never knew! We were boarded, in the fust place, by custom-house officers in cock-hats, who seased our luggitch, andcalled for our passpots: then a crowd of inn-waiters came, tumbling andscreaming on deck--"Dis way, sare, " cries one; "Hotel Meurice, " saysanother; "Hotel de Bang, " screeches another chap--the tower of Babylewas nothink to it. The fust thing that struck me on landing was abig fellow with ear-rings, who very nigh knock me down, in wrenchingmaster's carpet-bag out of my hand, as I was carrying it to the hotell. But we got to it safe at last; and, for the fust time in my life, I slepin a foring country. 

I shan't describe this town of Balong, which, as it has been visited bynot less (on an avaridg) than two milliums of English since I fustsaw it twenty years ago, is tolrabbly well known already. It's a dingymelumcolly place, to my mind; the only thing moving in the streets isthe gutter which runs down 'em. As for wooden shoes, I saw few of 'em;and for frogs, upon my honor I never see a single Frenchman swallowone, which I had been led to beleave was their reg'lar, though beastly, custom. One thing which amazed me was the singlar name which they giveto this town of Balong. It's divided, as every boddy knows, intoan upper town (sitouate on a mounting, and surrounded by a wall, orbullyvar) and a lower town, which is on the level of the sea. Well, willit be believed that they call the upper town the Hot Veal, and the otherthe Base Veal, which is on the contry, genrally good in France, thoughthe beaf, it must be confest, is excrabble. 

It was in the Base Veal that Deuceace took his lodgian, at the Hotelde Bang, in a very crooked street called the Rue del Ascew; and if he'dbeen the Archbishop of Devonshire, or the Duke of Canterbury, he couldnot have given himself greater hairs, I can tell you. Nothink was toofine for us now; we had a sweet of rooms on the first floor, whichbelonged to the prime minister of France (at least the landlord saidthey were the premier's); and the Hon. Algernon Percy Deuceace, who hadnot paid his landriss, and came to Dover in a coach, seamed now to thinkthat goold was too vulgar for him, and a carridge and six would breakdown with a man of his weight. Shampang flew about like ginger-pop, besides bordo, clarit, burgundy, burgong, and other wines, and all thedelixes of the Balong kitchins. We stopped a fortnit at this dull place, and did nothing from morning till night excep walk on the bench, andwatch the ships going in and out of arber, with one of them long, sliding opra-glasses, which they call, I don't know why, tallow-scoops. Our amusements for the fortnit we stopped here were boath numerous anddaliteful; nothink, in fact, could be more pickong, as they say. In themorning before breakfast we boath walked on the Peer; master in a bluemareen jackit, and me in a slap-up new livry; both provided with longsliding opra-glasses, called as I said (I don't know Y, but I supposeit's a scientafick term) tallow-scoops. With these we igsamined, veryattentively, the otion, the sea-weed, the pebbles, the dead cats, thefishwimmin, and the waives (like little children playing at leap-frog), which came tumblin over 1 another on to the shoar. It seemed to me as ifthey were scrambling to get there, as well they might, being sick of thesea, and anxious for the blessid, peaceable terry firmy. 

After brexfast, down we went again (that is, master on his beat, and meon mine, --for my place in this foring town was a complete shinycure), and putting our tally-scoops again in our eyes, we egsamined a littlemore the otion, pebbils, dead cats, and so on; and this lasted tilldinner, and dinner till bedtime, and bedtime lasted till nex day, whencame brexfast, and dinner, and tally-scooping, as before. This is theway with all people of this town, of which, as I've heard say, there isten thousand happy English, who lead this plesnt life from year's end toyear's end. 

Besides this, there's billiards and gambling for the gentlemen, a littledancing for the gals, and scandle for the dowygers. In none of theseamusements did we partake. We were a LITTLE too good to play crown pintsat cards, and never get paid when we won; or to go dangling after theportionless gals, or amuse ourselves with slops and penny-wist alongwith the old ladies. No, no; my master was a man of fortn now, andbehayved himself as sich. If ever he condysended to go into the publicroom of the Hotel de Bang--the French (doubtless for reasons best knownto themselves) call this a sallymanjy--he swoar more and lowder thanany one there; he abyoused the waiters, the wittles, the wines. With hisglas in his i, he staired at every body. He took always the place beforethe fire. He talked about "my carridge, " "my currier, " "my servant;" andhe did wright. I've always found through life, that if you wish to berespected by English people, you must be insalent to them, especiallyif you are a sprig of nobiliaty. We LIKE being insulted by noblemen, --itshows they're familiar with us. Law bless us! I've known many and manya genlmn about town who'd rather be kicked by a lord than not be noticedby him; they've even had an aw of ME, because I was a lord's footman. While my master was hectoring in the parlor, at Balong, pretious airsI gave myself in the kitching, I can tell you; and the consequints was, that we were better served, and moar liked, than many pipple with twiceour merit. 

Deuceace had some particklar plans, no doubt, which kep him so long atBalong; and it clearly was his wish to act the man of fortune there fora little time before he tried the character of Paris. He purchased acarridge, he hired a currier, he rigged me in a fine new livry blazinwith lace, and he past through the Balong bank a thousand pounds of themoney he had won from Dawkins, to his credit at a Paris house; showingthe Balong bankers at the same time, that he'd plenty moar in hispotfolie. This was killin two birds with one stone; the bankers' clerksspread the nuse over the town, and in a day after master had paid themoney every old dowyger in Balong had looked out the Crabs' familypodigree in the Peeridge, and was quite intimate with the Deuceace nameand estates. If Sattn himself were a lord, I do beleave there's manyvurtuous English mothers would be glad to have him for a son-in-law. 

Now, though my master had thought fitt to leave town withoutexcommunicating with his father on the subject of his intendedcontinental tripe, as soon as he was settled at Balong he roat my LordCrabbs a letter, of which I happen to have a copy. It ran thus:--

"BOULOGNE, January 25. 

"MY DEAR FATHER, --I have long, in the course of my legal studies, foundthe necessity of a knowledge of French, in which language all the earlyhistory of our profession is written, and have determined to take alittle relaxation from chamber reading, which has seriously injuredmy health. If my modest finances can bear a two months' journey, and aresidence at Paris, I propose to remain there that period. 

"Will you have the kindness to send me a letter of introduction to LordBobtail, our ambassador? My name, and your old friendship with him, Iknow would secure me a reception at his house; but a pressing letterfrom yourself would at once be more courteous, and more effectual. 

"May I also ask you for my last quarter's salary? I am not an expensiveman, my dear father, as you know; but we are no chameleons, and fiftypounds (with my little earnings in my profession) would vastly add tothe agremens of my continental excursion. 

"Present my love to all my brothers and sisters. Ah! how I wish thehard portion of a younger son had not been mine, and that I could livewithout the dire necessity for labor, happy among the rural scenes of mychildhood, and in the society of my dear sisters and you! Heaven blessyou, dearest father, and all those beloved ones now dwelling under thedear old roof at Sizes. 

"Ever your affectionate son, "Algernon. 

"THE RIGHT HON. THE EARL OF CRABS, &c. , SIZES COURT, BUCKS. "

To this affeckshnat letter his lordship replied, by return of poast, asfollos:--

"MY DEAR ALGERNON, --Your letter came safe to hand and I enclose you theletter for Lord Bobtail as you desire. He is a kind man, and has one ofthe best cooks in Europe. 

"We were all charmed with your warm remembrances of us, not having seenyou for seven years. We cannot but be pleased at the family affectionwhich, in spite of time and absence, still clings so fondly to home. Itis a sad, selfish world, and very few who have entered it can afford tokeep those fresh feelings which you have, my dear son. 

"May you long retain them, is a fond father's earnest prayer. Be sure, dear Algernon, that they will be through life your greatest comfort, aswell as your best worldly ally; consoling you in misfortune, cheeringyou in depression, aiding and inspiring you to exertion and success. 

"I am sorry, truly sorry, that my account at Coutts's is so low, just now, as to render a payment of your allowance for the presentimpossible. I see by my book that I owe you now nine quarters, or 450L. Depend on it, my dear boy, that they shall be faithfully paid over toyou on the first opportunity. 

"By the way, I have enclosed some extracts from the newspapers, whichmay interest you: and have received a very strange letter from a Mr. Blewitt, about a play transaction, which, I suppose, is the case alludedto in these prints. He says you won 4700L. From one Dawkins: that thelad paid it; that he, Blewitt, was to go what he calls 'snacks' in thewinning; but that you refused to share the booty. How can you, my dearboy, quarrel with these vulgar people, or lay yourself in any way opento their attacks? I have played myself a good deal, and there is no manliving who can accuse me of a doubtful act. You should either have shotthis Blewitt or paid him. Now, as the matter stands, it is too late todo the former; and, perhaps, it would be Quixotic to perform the latter. My dearest boy! recollect through life that YOU NEVER CAN AFFORD TO BEDISHONEST WITH A ROQUE. Four thousand seven hundred pounds was a greatcoup, to be sure. 

"As you are now in such high feather, can you, dearest Algernon! lendme five hundred pounds? Upon my soul and honor, I will repay you. Yourbrothers and sisters send you their love. I need not add, that you havealways the blessings of your affectionate father, "CRABS. "

"P. S. --Make it 500, and I will give you my note-of-hand for a thousand. "

 . . . . . . 

I needn't say that this did not QUITE enter into Deuceace's eyedears. Lend his father 500 pound, indeed! He'd as soon have lent him a box onthe year! In the fust place, he hadn seen old Crabs for seven years, asthat nobleman remarked in his epistol; in the secknd he hated him, andthey hated each other; and nex, if master had loved his father everso much, he loved somebody else better--his father's son, namely: andsooner than deprive that exlent young man of a penny, he'd have sean allthe fathers in the world hangin at Newgat, and all the "beloved ones, "as he called his sisters, the Lady Deuceacisses, so many convix atBottomy Bay. 

The newspaper parrografs showed that, however secret WE wished to keepthe play transaction, the public knew it now full well. Blewitt, as Ifound after, was the author of the libels which appeared right and left:

"GAMBLING IN HIGH LIFE--the HONORABLE Mr. D--c--ce again!--Thiscelebrated whist-player has turned his accomplishments to some profit. On Friday, the 16th January, he won five thousand pounds from a VERYyoung gentleman, Th-m-s Sm-th D-wk-ns, Esq. , and lost two thousand fivehundred to R. Bl-w-tt, Esq. , of the T-mple. Mr. D. Very honorably paidthe sum lost by him to the honorable whist-player, but we have not heardthat, BEFORE HIS SUDDEN TRIP TO PARIS, Mr. D--uc--ce paid HIS losings toMr. Bl-w-tt. "

Nex came a "Notice to Corryspondents:"

"Fair Play asks us, if we know of the gambling doings of the notoriousDeuceace? We answer, WE DO; and, in our very next Number, propose tomake some of them public. "

 . . . . . . 

They didn't appear, however; but, on the contry, the very samenewspeper, which had been before so abusiff of Deuceace, was now loud inhis praise. It said:--

"A paragraph was inadvertently admitted into our paper of last week, most unjustly assailing the character of a gentleman of high birth andtalents, the son of the exemplary E-rl of Cr-bs. We repel, with scornand indignation, the dastardly falsehoods of the malignant slandererwho vilified Mr. De--ce-ce, and beg to offer that gentleman the onlyreparation in our power for having thus tampered with his unsulliedname. We disbelieve the RUFFIAN and HIS STORY, and most sincerelyregret that such a tale, or SUCH A WRITER, should ever have been broughtforward to the readers of this paper. "

This was satisfactory, and no mistake: and much pleased we were at thedenial of this conshentious editor. So much pleased that master senthim a ten-pound noat, and his complymints. He'd sent another to the sameaddress, BEFORE this parrowgraff was printed; WHY, I can't think: for Iwoodn't suppose any thing musnary in a littery man. 

Well, after this bisniss was concluded, the currier hired, the carridgesmartened a little, and me set up in my new livries, we bade ojew toBulong in the grandest state posbill. What a figure we cut! and, my i, what a figger the postillion cut! A cock-hat, a jackit made out of acow's skin (it was in cold weather), a pig-tale about 3 fit in length, and a pair of boots! Oh, sich a pare! A bishop might almost havepreached out of one, or a modrat-sized famly slep in it. Me and Mr. Schwigshhnaps, the currier, sate behind in the rumbill; master aloan inthe inside, as grand as a Turk, and rapt up in his fine fir-cloak. Offwe sett, bowing gracefly to the crowd; the harniss-bells jinglin, thegreat white hosses snortin, kickin, and squeelin, and the postiliumcracking his wip, as loud as if he'd been drivin her majesty the quean. 

 . . . . . . 

Well, I shan't describe our voyitch. We passed sefral sitties, willitches, and metrappolishes; sleeping the fust night at Amiens, witch, as everyboddy knows, is famous ever since the year 1802 forwhat's called the Pease of Amiens. We had some, very good, done withsugar and brown sos, in the Amiens way. But after all the boasting aboutthem, I think I like our marrowphats better. 

Speaking of wedgytables, another singler axdent happened here concarningthem. Master, who was brexfasting before going away, told me to go andget him his fur travling-shoes. I went and toald the waiter of theinn, who stared, grinned (as these chaps always do), said "Bong" (whichmeans, very well), and presently came back. 

I'M BLEST IF HE DIDN'T BRING MASTER A PLATE OF CABBITCH! Would youbleave it, that now, in the nineteenth sentry, when they saythere's schoolmasters abroad, these stewpid French jackasses are soextonishingly ignorant as to call a CABBIDGE a SHOO! Never, never letit be said, after this, that these benighted, souperstitious, misrabbleSAVIDGES, are equill, in any respex, to the great Brittish people. Themoor I travvle, the moor I see of the world, and other natiums, I amproud of my own, and despise and deplore the retchid ignorance of therest of Yourup. 

 . . . . . . 

My remarks on Parris you shall have by an early opportunity. Me andDeuceace played some curious pranx there, I can tell you. 

MR. DEUCEACE AT PARIS. 

CHAPTER I. 

THE TWO BUNDLES OF HAY. 

Lieutenant-General Sir George Griffin, K. C. B. , was about seventy-fiveyears old when he left this life, and the East Ingine army, of which hewas a distinguished ornyment. Sir George's first appearance in Injar wasin the character of a cabbingboy to a vessel; from which he rose to beclerk to the owners at Calcutta, from which he became all of a sudden acapting in the Company's service; and so rose and rose, until he rose tobe a leftenant-general, when he stopped rising altogether--hopping thetwig of this life, as drummers, generals, dustmen, and emperors must do. 

Sir George did not leave any mal hair to perpetuate the name of Griffin. A widow of about twenty-seven, and a daughter avaritching twenty-three, was left behind to deploar his loss, and share his proppaty. On old SirGeorge's deth, his interesting widdo and orfan, who had both been withhim in Injer, returned home--tried London for a few months, did notlike it, and resolved on a trip to Paris; where very small London peoplebecome very great ones, if they've money, as these Griffinses had. The intelligent reader need not be told that Miss Griffin was not thedaughter of Lady Griffin; for though marritches are made tolrabbly earlyin Injer, people are not quite so precoashoos as all that: the fact is, Lady G. Was Sir George's second wife. I need scarcely add, that MissMatilda Griffin wos the offspring of his fust marritch. 

Miss Leonora Kicksey, a ansum, lively Islington gal, taken out toCalcutta, and, amongst his other goods, very comfortably disposed ofby her uncle, Capting Kicksey, was one-and-twenty when she married SirGeorge at seventy-one; and the 13 Miss Kickseys, nine of whom kep aschool at Islington (the other 4 being married variously in the city), were not a little envius of my lady's luck, and not a little proud oftheir relationship to her. One of 'em, Miss Jemima Kicksey, the oldest, and by no means the least ugly of the sett, was staying with herladyship, and gev me all the partecklars. Of the rest of the famly, being of a lo sort, I in course no nothink; MY acquaintance, thank mystars, don't lie among them, or the likes of them. 

Well, this Miss Jemima lived with her younger and more fortnat sister, in the qualaty of companion, or toddy. Poar thing! I'd a soon be a gallyslave, as lead the life she did! Every body in the house despised her;her ladyship insulted her; the very kitching gals scorned and floutedher. She roat the notes, she kep the bills, she made the tea, shewhipped the chocklate, she cleaned the canary birds, and gev out thelinning for the wash. She was my lady's walking pocket, or rettycule;and fetched and carried her handkercher, or her smell-bottle, like awell-bred spaniel. All night, at her ladyship's swarries, she thumpedkidrills (nobody ever thought of asking HER to dance!); when MissGriffing sung, she played the piano, and was scolded because the singerwas out of tune; abommanating dogs, she never drove out without herladyship's puddle in her lap; and, reglarly unwell in a carriage, shenever got anything but the back seat. Poar Jemima! I can see her nowin my lady's SECKND-BEST old clothes (the ladies'-maids always got theprime leavings): a liloc sattn gown, crumpled, blotched, and greasy; apair of white sattn shoes, of the color of Inger rubber; a faded yellowvelvet hat, with a wreath of hartifishl flowers run to sead, and a birdof Parrowdice perched on the top of it, melumcolly and moulting, withonly a couple of feathers left in his unfortunate tail. 

Besides this ornyment to their saloon, Lady and Miss Griffin kept anumber of other servants in the kitching; 2 ladies'-maids; 2 footmin, six feet high each, crimson coats, goold knots, and white cassymearpantyloons; a coachmin to match; a page: and a Shassure, a kindof servant only known among forriners, and who looks more like amajor-general than any other mortial, wearing a cock-hat, a unicorncovered with silver lace, mustashos, eplets, and a sword by his side. All these to wait upon two ladies; not counting a host of the fair sex, such as cooks, scullion, housekeepers, and so forth. 

My Lady Griffin's lodging was at forty pound a week, in a grand sweetof rooms in the Plas Vandome at Paris. And, having thus described theirhouse, and their servants' hall, I may give a few words of descriptionconcerning the ladies themselves. 

In the fust place, and in coarse, they hated each other. My lady wastwenty-seven--a widdo of two years--fat, fair, and rosy. A slow, quiet, cold-looking woman, as those fair-haired gals generally are, it seemeddifficult to rouse her either into likes or dislikes; to the former, at least. She never loved any body but ONE, and that was herself. Shehated, in her calm, quiet way, almost every one else who came nearher--every one, from her neighbor, the duke, who had slighted her atdinner, down to John the footman, who had torn a hole in her train. Ithink this woman's heart was like one of them lithograffic stones, youCAN'T RUB OUT ANY THING when once it's drawn or wrote on it; nor couldyou out of her ladyship's stone--heart, I mean--in the shape of anaffront, a slight, or real, or phansied injury. She boar an exlent, irreprotchable character, against which the tongue of scandal neverwagged. She was allowed to be the best wife posbill--and so she was; butshe killed her old husband in two years, as dead as ever Mr. Thurtellkilled Mr. William Weare. She never got into a passion, not she--shenever said a rude word; but she'd a genius--a genius which many womenhave--of making A HELL of a house, and tort'ring the poor creatures ofher family, until they were wellnigh drove mad. 

Miss Matilda Griffin was a good deal uglier, and about as amiable asher mother-in-law. She was crooked, and squinted; my lady, to do herjustice, was straight, and looked the same way with her i's. She wasdark, and my lady was fair--sentimental, as her ladyship was cold. Mylady was never in a passion--Miss Matilda always; and awfille were thescenes which used to pass between these 2 women, and the wickid, wickidquarls which took place. Why did they live together? There was themistry. Not related, and hating each other like pison, it would surelyhave been easier to remain seprat, and so have detested each other at adistans. 

As for the fortune which old Sir George had left, that, it was clear, was very considrabble--300 thousand lb. At the least, as I have heardsay. But nobody knew how it was disposed of. Some said that her ladyshipwas sole mistriss of it, others that it was divided, others that she hadonly a life inkum, and that the money was all to go (as was natral) toMiss Matilda. These are subjix which are not praps very interesting tothe British public, but were mighty important to my master, theHonrable Algernon Percy Deuceace, esquire, barrister-at-law, etsettler, etsettler. 

For I've forgot to inform you that my master was very intimat in thishouse; and that we were now comfortably settled at the Hotel Mirabew(pronounced Marobo in French), in the Rew delly Pay, at Paris. We hadour cab, and two riding horses; our banker's book, and a thousand poundfor a balantz at Lafitt's; our club at the corner of the Rew Gramong;our share in a box at the oppras; our apartments, spacious and elygant;our swarries at court; our dinners at his excellency Lord Bobtail'sand elsewhere. Thanks to poar Dawkins's five thousand pound, we were ascomplete gentlemen as any in Paris. 

Now my master, like a wise man as he was, seaing himself at the head ofa smart sum of money, and in a country where his debts could not botherhim, determined to give up for the present every think like gambling--atleast, high play; as for losing or winning a ralow of Napoleums at whistor ecarty, it did not matter; it looks like money to do such things, andgives a kind of respectabilaty. "But as for play, he wouldn't--oh no!not for worlds!--do such a thing. " He HAD played, like other young menof fashn, and won and lost [old fox! he didn't say he had PAID]; but hehad given up the amusement, and was now determined, he said, to liveon his inkum. The fact is, my master was doing his very best to actthe respectable man: and a very good game it is, too; but it requires aprecious great roag to play it. 

He made his appearans reglar at church--me carrying a handsome largeblack marocky Prayer-book and Bible, with the psalms and lessons markedout with red ribbings; and you'd have thought, as I graivly laid thevolloms down before him, and as he berried his head in his nicelybrushed hat, before service began, that such a pious, proper morl, youngnobleman was not to be found in the whole of the peeridge. It was acomfort to look at him. Efry old tabby and dowyger at my Lord Bobtail'sturned up the wights of their i's when they spoke of him, and vowed theyhad never seen such a dear, daliteful, exlent young man. What a good sonhe must be, they said; and oh, what a good son-in-law! He had the pickof all the English gals at Paris before we had been there 3 months. But, unfortunately, most of them were poar; and love and a cottidge was notquite in master's way of thinking. 

Well, about this time my Lady Griffin and Miss G. Made their appearantsat Parris, and master, who was up to snough, very soon changed his noat. He sate near them at chapple, and sung hims with my lady: he danced with'em at the embassy balls; he road with them in the Boy de Balong andthe Shandeleasies (which is the French High Park); he roat potry in MissGriffin's halbim, and sang jewets along with her and Lady Griffin; hebrought sweet-meats for the puddle-dog; he gave money to the footmin, kissis and gloves to the sniggering ladies'-maids; he was sivvle evento poar Miss Kicksey; there wasn't a single soal at the Griffinses thatdidn't adoar this good young man. 

The ladies, if they hated befoar, you may be sure detested each othernow wuss than ever. There had been always a jallowsy between them:miss jellows of her mother-in-law's bewty; madam of miss's espree: misstaunting my lady about the school at Islington, and my lady sneering atmiss for her squint and her crookid back. And now came a stronger caws. They both fell in love with Mr. Deuceace--my lady, that is to say, asmuch as she could, with her cold selfish temper. She liked Deuceace, whoamused her and made her laff. She liked his manners, his riding, and hisgood loox; and being a pervinew herself had a dubble respect for realaristocratick flesh and blood. Miss's love, on the contry, was all flamsand fury. She'd always been at this work from the time she had been atschool, where she very nigh run away with a Frentch master; next witha footman (which I may say, in confidence, is by no means unnatral orunusyouall, as I COULD SHOW IF I LIKED); and so had been going on sinsfifteen. She reglarly flung herself at Deuceace's head--such sighing, crying, and ogling, I never see. Often was I ready to bust out laffin, as I brought master skoars of rose-colored billydoos, folded up likecockhats, and smellin like barber's shops, which this very tender younglady used to address to him. Now, though master was a scoundrill and nomistake, he was a gentlemin, and a man of good breading; and miss CAMEA LITTLE TOO STRONG (pardon the wulgarity of the xpression) with herhardor and attachmint, for one of his taste. Besides, she had a crookidspine, and a squint; so that (supposing their fortns tolrabbly equal)Deuceace reely preferred the mother-in-law. 

Now, then, it was his bisniss to find out which had the most money. Withan English famly this would have been easy: a look at a will at DoctorCommons'es would settle the matter at once. But this India naybob'swill was at Calcutty, or some outlandish place; and there was no gettingsight of a coppy of it. I will do Mr. Algernon Deuceace the justass tosay, that he was so little musnary in his love for Lady Griffin, that hewould have married her gladly, even if she had ten thousand pounds lessthan Miss Matilda. In the meantime, his plan was to keep 'em both inplay, until he could strike the best fish of the two--not a difficultmatter for a man of his genus: besides, Miss was hooked for certain. 

CHAPTER II. 

"HONOR THY FATHER. "

I said that my master was adoard by every person in my Lady Griffin'sestablishmint. I should have said by every person excep one, --a youngFrench gnlmn, that is, who, before our appearants, had been mightypartiklar with my lady, ockupying by her side exackly the samepasition which the Honrable Mr. Deuceace now held. It was bewtiffleand headifying to see how coolly that young nobleman kicked the poarShevalliay de L'Orge out of his shoes, and how gracefully he himselfstept into 'em. Munseer de L'Orge was a smart young French jentleman, of about my master's age and good looks, but not possest of half mymaster's impidince. Not that that quallaty is uncommon in France;but few, very few, had it to such a degree as my exlent employer, Mr. Deuceace. Besides De L'Orge was reglarly and reely in love with LadyGriffin, and master only pretending: he had, of coars, an advantitch, which the poor Frentchman never could git. He was all smiles and gaty, while Delorge was ockward and melumcolly. My master had said twentypretty things to Lady Griffin, befor the shevalier had finishedsmoothing his hat, staring at her, and sighing fit to bust his weskit. O luv, luv! THIS isn't the way to win a woman, or my name's not FitzroyYellowplush! Myself, when I begun my carear among the fair six, Iwas always sighing and moping, like this poar Frenchman. What was theconsquints? The foar fust women I adoared lafft at me, and left me forsomething more lively. With the rest I have edopted a diffrent game, and with tolerable suxess, I can tell you. But this is eggatism, which Iaboar. 

Well, the long and the short of it is, that Munseer Ferdinand HyppoliteXavier Stanislas, Shevalier de L'Orge, was reglar cut out by MunseerAlgernon Percy Deuceace, Exquire. Poar Ferdinand did not leave thehouse--he hadn't the heart to do that--nor had my lady the desireto dismiss him. He was usefle in a thousand different ways, gittingoppra-boxes, and invitations to French swarries, bying gloves, and O deColong, writing French noats, and such like. Always let me recommendan English famly, going to Paris, to have at least one young man of thesort about them. Never mind how old your ladyship is, he will make loveto you; never mind what errints you send him upon, he'll trot off and dothem. Besides, he's always quite and well-dresst, and never drinx moarthan a pint of wine at dinner, which (as I say) is a pint to consider. Such a conveniants of a man was Munseer de L'Orge--the greatest useand comfort to my lady posbill; if it was but to laff at his badpronunciatium of English, it was somethink amusink; the fun was to pithim against poar Miss Kicksey, she speakin French, and he our naytifBritish tong. 

My master, to do him justace, was perfickly sivvle to this poar youngFrenchman; and having kicked him out of the place which he occupied, sertingly treated his fallen anymy with every respect and consideration. Poar modist, down-hearted little Ferdinand adoured my lady as a goddice!and so he was very polite likewise to my master--never venturing once tobe jellows of him, or to question my Lady Griffin's right to change herlover, if she choase to do so. 

Thus, then, matters stood; master had two strinx to his bo, and mighttake either the widdo or the orfn, as he preferred: com bong lweesomblay, as the Frentch say. His only pint was to discover how the moneywas disposed off, which evidently belonged to one or other, or boath. At any rate he was sure of one; as sure as any mortal man can be in thissublimary spear, where nothink is suttin except unsertnty. 

 . . . . . . 

A very unixpected insident here took place, which in a good deal changedmy master's calkylations. 

One night, after conducting the two ladies to the oppra, after suppinkof white soop, sammy-deperdrow, and shampang glassy (which means eyced), at their house in the Plas Vandom, me and master droav hoam in the cab, as happy as possbill. 

"Chawls you d----d scoundrel, " says he to me (for he was in an exlenthumer), "when I'm married, I'll dubbil your wagis. "

This he might do, to be sure, without injuring himself, seeing that hehad us yet never paid me any. But, what then? Law bless us! thingswould be at a pretty pass if we suvvants only lived on our WAGIS; ourpuckwisits is the thing, and no mistake. 

I ixprest my gratitude as best I could; swoar that it wasn't for wagisI served him--that I would as leaf weight upon him for nothink; and thatnever, never, so long as I livd, would I, of my own accord, part fromsuch an exlent master. By the time these two spitches had been made--myspitch and his--we arrived at the "Hotel Mirabeu;" which, us every bodyknows, ain't very distant from the Plas Vandome. Up we marched to ourapartmince, me carrying the light and the cloax, master hummink a hairout of the oppra, as merry as a lark. 

I opened the door of our salong. There was lights already in the room;an empty shampang bottle roalin on the floar, another on the table; nearwhich the sofy was drawn, and on it lay a stout old genlmn, smoakingseagars as if he'd bean in an inn tap-room. 

Deuceace (who abommunates seagars, as I've already shown) bust intoa furious raige against the genlmn, whom he could hardly see for thesmoak; and, with a number of oaves quite unnecessary to repeat, askedhim what bisniss he'd there. 

The smoaking chap rose, and, laying down his seagar, began a ror oflaffin, and said, "What! Algy my boy! don't you know me?"

The reader may praps recklect a very affecting letter which waspublished in the last chapter of these memoars; in which the writerrequested a loan of five hundred pound from Mr. Algernon Deuceace, andwhich boar the respected signatur of the Earl of Crabs, Mr. Deuceace'sown father. It was that distinguished arastycrat who was now smokin andlaffin in our room. 

My Lord Crabs was, as I preshumed, about 60 years old. A stowt, burly, red-faced, bald-headed nobleman, whose nose seemed blushing at what hismouth was continually swallowing; whose hand, praps, trembled a little;and whose thy and legg was not quite so full or as steddy as theyhad been in former days. But he was a respecktabble, fine-looking oldnobleman; and though it must be confest, 1/2 drunk when we fust made ourappearance in the salong, yet by no means moor so than a reel nobleminought to be. 

"What, Algy my boy!" shouts out his lordship, advancing and seasingmaster by the hand, "doan't you know your own father?"

Master seemed anythink but overhappy. "My lord, " says he, looking verypail, and speakin rayther slow, "I didn't--I confess--the unexpectedpleasure--of seeing you in Paris. The fact is, sir, said he, " recoveringhimself a little; "the fact is, there was such a confounded smoke oftobacco in the room, that I really could not see who the stranger waswho had paid me such an unexpected visit. "

"A bad habit, Algernon; a bad habit, " said my lord, lighting anotherseagar: "a disgusting and filthy practice, which you, my dear child, will do well to avoid. It is at best, dear Algernon, but a nasty, idlepastime, unfitting a man as well for mental exertion as for respectablesociety; sacrificing, at once, the vigor of the intellect and the gracesof the person. By-the-by, what infernal bad tobacco they have, too, inthis hotel. Could not you send your servant to get me a few seagars atthe Cafe de Paris? Give him a five-franc piece, and let him go at once, that's a good fellow. "

Here his lordship hiccupt, and drank off a fresh tumbler of shampang. Very sulkily, master drew out the coin, and sent me on the errint. 

Knowing the Cafe de Paris to be shut at that hour, I didn't say a word, but quietly establisht myself in the ante-room; where, as it happenedby a singler coinstdints, I could hear every word of the conversationbetween this exlent pair of relatifs. 

"Help yourself, and get another bottle, " says my lord, after a sollumpaws. My poar master, the king of all other compnies in which he moved, seamed here but to play secknd fiddill, and went to the cubbard, from which his father had already igstracted two bottils of his primeSillary. 

He put it down before his father, coft, spit, opened the windows, stirred the fire, yawned, clapt his hand to his forehead, and suttnlyseamed as uneezy as a genlmn could be. But it was of no use; the oldone would not budg. "Help yourself, " says he again, "and pass me thebottil. "

"You are very good, father, " says master; "but really, I neither drinknor smoke. "

"Right, my boy: quite right. Talk about a good conscience in thislife--a good STOMACK is everythink. No bad nights, no headachs--eh?Quite cool and collected for your law studies in the morning?--eh?" Andthe old nobleman here grinned, in a manner which would have done credditto Mr. Grimoldi. 

Master sate pale and wincing, as I've seen a pore soldier under the cat. He didn't anser a word. His exlent pa went on, warming as he continuedto speak, and drinking a fresh glas at evry full stop. 

"How you must improve, with such talents and such principles! Why, Algernon, all London talks of your industry and perseverance: you're notmerely a philosopher, man; hang it! you've got the philosopher's stone. Fine rooms, fine horses, champagne, and all for 200 a year!"

"I presume, sir, " says my master, "that you mean the two hundred a yearwhich YOU pay me?"

"The very sum, my boy; the very sum!" cries my lord, laffin as if hewould die. "Why, that's the wonder! I never pay the two hundred a year, and you keep all this state up upon nothing. Give me your secret, O youyoung Trismegistus! Tell your old father how such wonders can be worked, and I will--yes, then, upon my word, I will--pay you your two hundred ayear!"

"Enfin, my lord, " says Mr. Deuceace, starting up, and losing allpatience, "will you have the goodness to tell me what this visit means?You leave me to starve, for all you care; and you grow mighty facetiousbecause I earn my bread. You find me in prosperity, and--"

"Precisely, my boy; precisely. Keep your temper, and pass that bottle. I find you in prosperity; and a young gentleman of your genius andacquirements asks me why I seek your society? Oh, Algernon! Algernon!this is not worthy of such a profound philosopher. WHY do I seek you?Why, because you ARE in prosperity, O my son! else, why the devil shouldI bother my self about you? Did I, your poor mother, or your family, ever get from you a single affectionate feeling? Did we, or any other ofyour friends or intimates, ever know you to be guilty of a single honestor generous action? Did we ever pretend any love for you, or you for us?Algernon Deuceace, you don't want a father to tell you that you area swindler and a spendthrift! I have paid thousands for the debts ofyourself and your brothers; and, if you pay nobody else, I am determinedyou shall repay me. You would not do it by fair means, when I wroteto you and asked you for a loan of money. I knew you would not. HadI written again to warn you of my coming, you would have given me theslip; and so I came, uninvited, to FORCE you to repay me. THAT'S why Iam here, Mr. Algernon; and so help yourself and pass the bottle. "

After this speach, the old genlmn sunk down on the sofa, and puffedas much smoke out of his mouth as if he'd been the chimley of asteam-injian. I was pleased, I confess, with the sean, and liked to seethis venrabble and virtuous old man a-nocking his son about the hed;just as Deuceace had done with Mr. Richard Blewitt, as I've beforeshown. Master's face was, fust, red-hot; next, chawk-white: and thensky-blew. He looked, for all the world, like Mr. Tippy Cooke in thetragady of Frankinstang. At last, he mannidged to speek. 

"My lord, " says he, "I expected when I saw you that some such scheme wason foot. Swindler and spendthrift as I am, at least it is but a familyfailing; and I am indebted for my virtues to my father's preciousexample. Your lordship has, I perceive, added drunkenness to the listof your accomplishments, and, I suppose, under the influence of thatgentlemanly excitement, has come to make these preposterous propositionsto me. When you are sober, you will, perhaps, be wise enough to know, that, fool as I may be, I am not such a fool as you think me; and thatif I have got money, I intend to keep it--every farthing of it, thoughyou were to be ten times as drunk, and ten times as threatening as youare now. "

"Well, well, my boy, " said Lord Crabs, who seemed to have been halfasleep during his son's oratium, and received all his sneers andsurcasms with the most complete good-humor; "well, well, if you willresist, tant pis pour toi. I've no desire to ruin you, recollect, andam not in the slightest degree angry but I must and will have a thousandpounds. You had better give me the money at once; it will cost you moreif you don't. "

"Sir, " says Mr. Deuceace, "I will be equally candid. I would not giveyou a farthing to save you from--"

Here I thought proper to open the doar, and, touching my hat, said, "Ihave been to the Cafe de Paris, my lord, but the house is shut. "

"Bon: there's a good lad; you may keep the five francs. And now, get mea candle and show me down stairs. "

But my master seized the wax taper. "Pardon me, my lord, " says he. "What! a servant do it, when your son is in the room? Ah, par exemple, my dear father, " said he, laughing, "you think there is no politenessleft among us. " And he led the way out. 

"Good night, my dear boy, " said Lord Crabs. 

"God bless you, sir, " says he. "Are you wrapped warm? Mind the step!"

And so this affeckshnate pair parted. 

CHAPTER III. 

MINEWVRING. 

Master rose the nex morning with a dismal countinants--he seamed tothink that his pa's visit boded him no good. I heard him muttering athis brexfast, and fumbling among his hundred pound notes; once he hadlaid a parsle of them aside (I knew what he meant), to send 'em to hisfather. "But no, " says he at last, clutching them all up together again, and throwing them into his escritaw, "what harm can he do me? If he isa knave, I know another who's full as sharp. Let's see if we cannot beathim at his own weapons. " With that Mr. Deuceace drest himself in hisbest clothes, and marched off to the Plas Vandom, to pay his cort to thefair widdo and the intresting orfn. 

It was abowt ten o'clock, and he propoased to the ladies, on seeingthem, a number of planns for the day's rackryation. Riding in the BodyBalong, going to the Twillaries to see King Looy Disweet (who was thenthe raining sufferin of the French crownd) go to chapple, and, finely, a dinner at 5 o'clock at the Caffy de Parry; whents they were all toadjourn, to see a new peace at the theatre of the Pot St. Martin, calledSussannar and the Elders. 

The gals agread to everythink, exsep the two last prepositiums. "We havean engagement, my dear Mr. Algernon, " said my lady. "Look--a very kindletter from Lady Bobtail. " And she handed over a pafewmd noat from thatexolted lady. It ran thus:--

"FBG. ST. HONORE, Thursday, Feb. 15, 1817. 

"MY DEAR LADY GRIFFIN, --It is an age since we met. Harassing publicduties occupy so much myself and Lord Bobtail, that we have scarce timeto see our private friends; among whom, I hope, my dear Lady Griffinwill allow me to rank her. Will you excuse so unceremonious aninvitation, and dine with us at the embassy to-day? We shall be enpetite comite, and shall have the pleasure of hearing, I hope, some ofyour charming daughter's singing in the evening. I ought, perhaps, tohave addressed a separate, note to dear Miss Griffin; but I hope shewill pardon a poor diplomate, who has so many letters to write, youknow. 

"Farewell till seven, when I POSITIVELY MUST see you both. Ever, dearestLady Griffin, your affectionate

"ELIZA BOBTAIL. "

Such a letter from the ambassdriss, brot by the ambasdor's Shassure, andsealed with his seal of arms, would affect anybody in the middling ranxof life. It droav Lady Griffin mad with delight; and, long before mymaster's arrivle, she'd sent Mortimer and Fitzclarence, her two footmin, along with a polite reply in the affummatiff. 

Master read the noat with no such fealinx of joy. He felt that therewas somethink a-going on behind the seans, and, though he could not tellhow, was sure that some danger was near him. That old fox of a father ofhis had begun his M'Inations pretty early!

Deuceace handed back the letter; sneared, and poohd, and hinted thatsuch an invitation was an insult at best (what he called a pees ally);and, the ladies might depend upon it, was only sent because Lady Bobtailwanted to fill up two spare places at her table. But Lady Griffin andMiss would not have his insinwations; they knew too fu lords ever torefuse an invitatium from any one of them. Go they would; and poorDeuceace must dine alone. After they had been on their ride, and had hadtheir other amusemince, master came back with them, chatted, and laft;he was mighty sarkastix with my lady; tender and sentrymentle with Miss;and left them both in high sperrits to perform their twollet, beforedinner. 

As I came to the door (for I was as famillyer as a servnt of the house), as I came into the drawing-room to announts his cab, I saw master veryquietly taking his pocket-book (or pot fool, as the French call it) andthrusting it under one of the cushinx of the sofa. What game is this?thinx I. 

Why, this was the game. In abowt two hours, when he knew the ladies weregon, he pretends to be vastly anxious abowt the loss of his potfolio;and back he goes to Lady Griffinses to seek for it there. 

"Pray, " says he, on going in, "ask Miss Kicksey if I may see her for asingle moment. " And down comes Miss Kicksey, quite smiling, and happy tosee him. 

"Law, Mr. Deuceace!" says she, trying to blush as hard as ever shecould, "you quite surprise me! I don't know whether I ought, really, being alone, to admit a gentleman. "

"Nay, don't say so, dear Miss Kicksey! for do you know, I came here fora double purpose--to ask about a pocket-book which I have lost, and may, perhaps, have left here; and then, to ask you if you will have the greatgoodness to pity a solitary bachelor, and give him a cup of your nicetea?"

NICE TEA! I thot I should have split; for I'm blest if master had eatena morsle of dinner!

Never mind: down to tea they sat. "Do you take cream and sugar, dearsir?" says poar Kicksey, with a voice as tender as a tuttle-duff. 

"Both, dearest Miss Kicksey!" answers master; who stowed in a power ofsashong and muffinx which would have done honor to a washawoman. 

I shan't describe the conversation that took place betwigst master andthis young lady. The reader, praps, knows y Deuceace took the trouble totalk to her for an hour, and to swallow all her tea. He wanted to findout from her all she knew about the famly money matters, and settle atonce which of the two Griffinses he should marry. 

The poar thing, of cors, was no match for such a man as my master. Ina quarter of an hour, he had, if I may use the igspression, "turned herinside out. " He knew everything that she knew; and that, poar creature, was very little. There was nine thousand a year, she had heard say, in money, in houses, in banks in Injar, and what not. Boath the ladiessigned papers for selling or buying, and the money seemed equillydivided betwigst them. 

NINE THOUSAND A YEAR! Deuceace went away, his cheex tingling, his heartbeating. He, without a penny, could nex morning, if he liked, be masterof five thousand per hannum!

Yes. But how? Which had the money, the mother or the daughter? All thetea-drinking had not taught him this piece of nollidge; and Deuceacethought it a pity that he could not marry both. 

 . . . . . . 

The ladies came back at night, mightaly pleased with their reception atthe ambasdor's; and, stepping out of their carridge, bid coachmin driveon with a gentlemin who had handed them out--a stout old gentlemin, whoshook hands most tenderly at parting, and promised to call often upon myLady Griffin. He was so polite, that he wanted to mount the stairs withher ladyship; but no, she would not suffer it. "Edward, " says she tothe coachmin, quite loud, and pleased that all the people in the hotelshould hear her, "you will take the carriage, and drive HIS LORDSHIPhome. " Now, can you guess who his lordship was? The Right Hon. TheEarl of Crabs, to be sure; the very old genlmn whom I had seen on suchcharming terms with his son the day before. Master knew this the nexday, and began to think he had been a fool to deny his pa the thousandpound. 

Now, though the suckmstansies of the dinner at the ambasdor's only cameto my years some time after, I may as well relate 'em here, word forword, as they was told me by the very genlmn who waited behind LordCrabseses chair. 

There was only a "petty comity" at dinner, as Lady Bobtail said; and myLord Crabs was placed betwigst the two Griffinses, being mighty ellygantand palite to both. "Allow me, " says he to Lady G. (between the soop andthe fish), "my dear madam, to thank you--fervently thank you for yourgoodness to my poor boy. Your ladyship is too young to experience, but, I am sure, far too tender not to understand the gratitude which mustfill a fond parent's heart for kindness shown to his child. Believeme, " says my lord, looking her full and tenderly in the face, "that thefavors you have done to another have been done equally to myself, andawaken in my bosom the same grateful and affectionate feelings withwhich you have already inspired my son Algernon. "

Lady Griffin blusht, and droopt her head till her ringlets fell into herfish-plate: and she swallowed Lord Crabs's flumry just as she would somany musharuins. My lord (whose powers of slack-jaw was notoarious) nexaddrast another spitch to Miss Griffin. He said he'd heard how Deuceacewas SITUATED. Miss blusht--what a happy dog he was--Miss blusht crimson, and then he sighed deeply, and began eating his turbat and lobstersos. Master was a good un at flumry, but, law bless you! he was no moarequill to the old man than a mole-hill is to a mounting. Before thenight was over, he had made as much progress as another man would in aear. One almost forgot his red nose and his big stomick, and his wickedleering i's, in his gentle insiniwating woice, his fund of annygoats, and, above all, the bewtific, morl, religious, and honrabble toan of hisgenral conservation. Praps you will say that these ladies were, for suchrich pipple, mightaly esaly captivated; but recklect, my dear sir, thatthey were fresh from Injar, --that they'd not sean many lords, --thatthey adoared the peeridge, as every honest woman does in England who hasproper feelinx, and has read the fashnabble novvles, --and that here atParis was their fust step into fashnabble sosiaty. 

Well, after dinner, while Miss Matilda was singing "Die tantie, " or "Dipyour chair, " or some of them sellabrated Italyian hairs (when she beganthis squall, hang me if she'd ever stop), my lord gets hold of LadyGriffin again, and gradgaly begins to talk to her in a very differentstrane. 

"What a blessing it is for us all, " says he, "that Algernon has found afriend so respectable as your ladyship. "

"Indeed, my lord; and why? I suppose I am not the only respectablefriend that Mr. Deuceace has?"

"No, surely; not the only one he HAS HAD: his birth, and, permit me tosay, his relationship to myself, have procured him many. But--" (here mylord heaved a very affecting and large sigh). 

"But what?" says my lady, laffing at the igspression of his dismal face. "You don't mean that Mr. Deuceace has lost them or is unworthy of them?"

"I trust not, my dear madam, I trust not; but he is wild, thoughtless, extravagant, and embarrassed: and you know a man under thesecircumstances is not very particular as to his associates. "

"Embarrassed? Good heavens! He says he has two thousand a year left himby a god-mother; and he does not seem even to spend his income--a veryhandsome independence, too, for a bachelor. "

My lord nodded his head sadly, and said, --"Will your ladyship give meyour word of honor to be secret? My son has but a thousand a year, whichI allow him, and is heavily in debt. He has played, madam, I fear;and for this reason I am so glad to hear that he is in a respectabledomestic circle, where he may learn, in the presence of far greater andpurer attractions, to forget the dice-box, and the low company which hasbeen his bane. "

My Lady Griffin looked very grave indeed. Was it true? Was Deuceacesincere in his professions of love, or was he only a sharper wooing herfor her money? Could she doubt her informer? his own father, and, what'smore, a real flesh and blood pear of parlyment? She determined she wouldtry him. Praps she did not know she had liked Deuceace so much, untilshe kem to feel how much she should HATE him if she found he'd beenplaying her false. 

The evening was over, and back they came, as wee've seen, --my lorddriving home in my lady's carridge, her ladyship and Miss walking upstairs to their own apartmince. 

Here, for a wonder, was poar Miss Kicksey quite happy and smiling, andevidently full of a secret, --something mighty pleasant, to judge fromher loox. She did not long keep it. As she was making tea for the ladies(for in that house they took a cup regular before bedtime), "Well, mylady, " says she, "who do you think has been to drink tea with me?" Poarthing, a frendly face was a event in her life--a tea-party quite a hera!

"Why, perhaps, Lenoir my maid, " says my lady, looking grave. "I wish, Miss Kicksey, you would not demean yourself by mixing with my domestics. Recollect, madam, that you are sister to Lady Griffin. "

"No, my lady, it was not Lenoir; it was a gentleman, and a handsomegentleman, too. "

"Oh, it was Monsieur de l'Orge, then, " says Miss; "he promised to bringme some guitar-strings. "

"No, nor yet M. De l'Orge. He came, but was not so polite as to askfor me. What do you think of your own beau, the Honorable Mr. AlgernonDeuceace;" and, so saying, poar Kicksey clapped her hands together, andlooked as joyfle as if she'd come in to a fortin. 

"Mr. Deuceace here; and why, pray?" says my lady, who recklected allthat his exlent pa had been saying to her. 

"Why, in the first place, he had left his pocket-book, and in thesecond, he wanted, he said, a dish of my nice tea; which he took, andstayed with me an hour, or moar. "

"And pray, Miss Kicksey, " said Miss Matilda, quite contempshusly, "whatmay have been the subject of your conversation with Mr. Algernon? Didyou talk politics, or music, or fine arts, or metaphysics?" Miss M. Being what was called a blue (as most hump-backed women in sosiaty are), always made a pint to speak on these grand subjects. 

"No, indeed; he talked of no such awful matters. If he had, you know, Matilda, I should never have understood him. First we talked about theweather, next about muffins and crumpets. Crumpets, he said, he likedbest; and then we talked" (here Miss Kicksey's voice fell) "about poordear Sir George in heaven! what a good husband he was, and--"

"What a good fortune he left, eh, Miss Kicksey?" says my lady, with ahard, snearing voice, and a diabollicle grin. 

"Yes, dear Leonora, he spoke so respectfully of your blessed husband, and seemed so anxious about you and Matilda, it was quite charming tohear him, dear man!"

"And pray, Miss Kicksey, what did you tell him?"

"Oh, I told him that you and Leonora had nine thousand a year, and--"

"What then?"

"Why, nothing; that is all I know. I am sure I wish I had ninety, " sayspoor Kicksey, her eyes turning to heaven. 

"Ninety fiddlesticks! Did not Mr. Deuceace ask how the money was left, and to which of us?"

"Yes; but I could not tell him. "

"I knew it!" says my lady, slapping down her tea-cup, --"I knew it!"

"Well!" says Miss Matilda, "and why not, Lady Griffin? There is noreason you should break your tea-cup, because Algernon asks a harmlessquestion. HE is not mercenary; he is all candor, innocence, generosity!He is himself blessed with a sufficient portion of the world's goods tobe content; and often and often has he told me he hoped the woman of hischoice might come to him without a penny, that he might show the purityof his affection. "

"I've no doubt, " says my lady. "Perhaps the lady of his choice is MissMatilda Griffin!" and she flung out of the room, slamming the door, andleaving Miss Matilda to bust into tears, as was her reglar custom, andpour her loves and woas into the buzzom of Miss Kicksey. 

CHAPTER IV. 

"HITTING THE NALE ON THE HEDD. "

The nex morning, down came me and master to Lady Griffinses, --I amusingmyself with the gals in the antyroom, he paying his devours to theladies in the salong. Miss was thrumming on her gitter; my lady wasbefore a great box of papers, busy with accounts, bankers' books, lawyers' letters, and what not. Law bless us! it's a kind of bisniss Ishould like well enuff; especially when my hannual account was seven oreight thousand on the right side, like my lady's. My lady in this housekep all these matters to herself. Miss was a vast deal too sentrimentleto mind business. 

Miss Matilda's eyes sparkled as master came in; she pinted gracefully toa place on the sofy beside her, which Deuceace took. My lady only lookedup for a moment, smiled very kindly, and down went her head among thepapers agen, as busy as a B. 

"Lady Griffin has had letters from London, " says Miss, "from nastylawyers and people. Come here and sit by me, you naughty man you!"

And down sat master. "Willingly, " says he, "my dear Miss Griffin; why, Ideclare, it is quits a tete-a-tete. "

"Well, " says Miss (after the prillimnary flumries, in coarse), "we met afriend of yours at the embassy, Mr. Deuceace. "

"My father, doubtless; he is a great friend of the ambassador, andsurprised me myself by a visit the night before last. "

"What a dear delightful old man! how he loves you, Mr. Deuceace!"

"Oh, amazingly!" says master, throwing his i's to heaven. 

"He spoke of nothing but you, and such praises of you!"

Master breathed more freely. "He is very good, my dear father; butblind, as all fathers are, he is so partial and attached to me. "

"He spoke of you being his favorite child, and regretted that you werenot his eldest son. 'I can but leave him the small portion of a youngerbrother, ' he said; 'but never mind, he has talents, a noble name, and anindependence of his own. '"

"An independence? yes, oh yes; I am quite independent of my father. "

"Two thousand pounds a year left you by your godmother; the very sameyou told us you know. "

"Neither more nor less, " says master, bobbing his head; "a sufficiency, my dear Miss Griffin, --to a man of my moderate habits an ampleprovision. "

"By-the-by, " cries out Lady Griffin, interrupting the conversation, "youwho are talking about money matters there, I wish you would come to theaid of poor ME! Come, naughty boy, and help me out with this long longsum. "

DIDN'T HE GO--that's all! My i, how his i's shone, as he skipt acrossthe room, and seated himself by my lady!

"Look!" said she, "my agents write me over that they have received aremittance of 7, 200 rupees, at 2s. 9d. A rupee. Do tell me what the sumis, in pounds and shillings;" which master did with great gravity. 

"Nine hundred and ninety pounds. Good; I daresay you are right. I'm sureI can't go through the fatigue to see. And now comes another question. Whose money is this, mine or Matilda's? You see it is the interest of asum in India, which we have not had occasion to touch; and, according tothe terms of poor Sir George's will, I really don't know how to disposeof the money except to spend it. Matilda, what shall we do with it?"

"La, ma'am, I wish you would arrange the business yourself. "

"Well, then, Algernon, YOU tell me;" and she laid her hand on his andlooked him most pathetickly in the face. 

"Why, " says he, "I don't know how Sir George left his money; you mustlet me see his will, first. "

"Oh, willingly. "

Master's chair seemed suddenly to have got springs in the cushns; he wasobliged to HOLD HIMSELF DOWN. 

"Look here, I have only a copy, taken by my hand from Sir George's ownmanuscript. Soldiers, you know, do not employ lawyers much, and thiswas written on the night before going into action. " And she read, "'I, George Griffin, ' &c. &c. --you know how these things begin--'being now ofsane mind'--um, um, um, --'leave to my friends, Thomas Abraham Hicks, a colonel in the H. E. I. Company's Service, and to John MonroMackirkincroft (of the house of Huffle, Mackirkincroft, and Dobbs, atCalcutta), the whole of my property, to be realized as speedily as theymay (consistently with the interests of the property), in trust formy wife, Leonora Emilia Griffin (born L. E. Kicksey), and my onlylegitimate child, Matilda Griffin. The interest resulting from suchproperty to be paid to them, share and share alike; the principalto remain untouched, in the names of the said T. A. Hicks and J. M. Mackirkincroft, until the death of my wife, Leonora Emilia Griffin, whenit shall be paid to my daughter, Matilda Griffin, her heirs, executors, or assigns. '"

"There, " said my lady, "we won't read any more; all the rest is stuff. But now you know the whole business, tell us what is to be done with themoney?"

"Why, the money, unquestionably, should be divided between you. "

"Tant mieux, say I; I really thought it had been all Matilda's. "

 . . . . . . 

There was a paws for a minit or two after the will had been read. Masterleft the desk at which he had been seated with her ladyship, paced upand down the room for a while, and then came round to the place whereMiss Matilda was seated. At last he said, in a low, trembling voice, --

"I am almost sorry, my dear Lady Griffin, that you have read that willto me; for an attachment such as mine must seem, I fear, mercenary, when the object of it is so greatly favored by worldly fortune. MissGriffin--Matilda! I know I may say the word; your dear eyes grant me thepermission. I need not tell you, or you, dear mother-in-law, how long, how fondly, I have adored you. My tender, my beautiful Matilda, I willnot affect to say I have not read your heart ere this, and that I havenot known the preference with which you have honored me. SPEAK IT, dear girl! from your own sweet lips: in the presence of an affectionateparent, utter the sentence which is to seal my happiness for life. Matilda, dearest Matilda! say, oh say, that you love me!"

Miss M. Shivered, turned pail, rowled her eyes about, and fell onmaster's neck, whispering hodibly, "I DO!"

My lady looked at the pair for a moment with her teeth grinding, her i'sglaring, her busm throbbing, and her face chock white; for all the worldlike Madam Pasty, in the oppra of "Mydear" (when she's goin to mudderher childring, you recklect); and out she flounced from the room, without a word, knocking down poar me, who happened to be very near thedor, and leaving my master along with his crook-back mistress. 

I've repotted the speech he made to her pretty well. The fact is, I gotit in a ruff copy; only on the copy it's wrote, "Lady Griffin, Leonora!"instead of "Miss Griffin, Matilda, " as in the abuff, and so on. 

Master had hit the right nail on the head this time, he thought: but hisadventors an't over yet. 

CHAPTER V. 

THE GRIFFIN'S CLAWS. 

Well, master had hit the right nail on the head this time: thanx toluck--the crooked one, to be sure, but then it had the GOOLD NOBB, whichwas the part Deuceace most valued, as well he should; being a connyshureas to the relletiff valyou of pretious metals, and much preferringvirging goold like this to poor old battered iron like my Lady Griffin. 

And so, in spite of his father (at which old noblemin Mr. Deuceace nowsnapt his fingers), in spite of his detts (which, to do him Justas, hadnever stood much in his way), and in spite of his povatty, idleness, extravagans, swindling, and debotcheries of all kinds (which an'tGENERALLY very favorable to a young man who has to make his way in theworld); in spite of all, there he was, I say, at the topp of the trea, the fewcher master of a perfect fortun, the defianced husband of afool of a wife. What can mortial man want more? Vishns of ambishn nowoccupied his soal. Shooting boxes, oppra boxes, money boxes always full;hunters at Melton; a seat in the house of Commins: heaven knows what!and not a poar footman, who only describes what he's seen, and can't, incors, pennytrate into the idears and the busms of men. 

You may be shore that the three-cornered noats came pretty thick nowfrom the Griffinses. Miss was always a-writing them befoar; and now, nite, noon, and mornink, breakfast, dinner, and sopper, in they came, till my pantry (for master never read 'em, and I carried 'em out) waspuffickly intolrabble from the odor of musk, ambygrease, bargymot, andother sense with which they were impregniated. Here's the contenseof three on 'em, which I've kep in my dex these twenty years asskeewriosities. Faw! I can smel 'em at this very minit, as I am copyingthem down. 

BILLY DOO. No. I. 

"Monday morning, 2 o'clock. 

"'Tis the witching hour of night. Luna illumines my chamber, and fallsupon my sleepless pillow. By her light I am inditing these words tothee, my Algernon. My brave and beautiful, my soul's lord! when shallthe time come when the tedious night shall not separate us, nor theblessed day? Twelve! one! two! I have heard the bells chime, and thequarters, and never cease to think of my husband. My adored Percy, pardon the girlish confession, --I have kissed the letter at this place. Will thy lips press it too, and remain for a moment on the spot whichhas been equally saluted by your

"MATILDA?"

This was the FUST letter, and was brot to our house by one of the poarfootmin, Fitzclarence, at sicks o'clock in the morning. I thot it wasfor life and death, and woak master at that extraornary hour, and gaveit to him. I shall never forgit him, when he red it; he cramped it up, and he cust and swoar, applying to the lady who roat, the genlmn thatbrought it, and me who introjuiced it to his notice such a collection ofepitafs as I seldum hered, excep at Billinxgit. The fact is thiss; for afust letter, miss's noat was RATHER too strong and sentymentle. But thatwas her way; she was always reading melancholy stoary books--"Thaduse ofWawsaw, " the "Sorrows of MacWhirter, " and such like. 

After about 6 of them, master never yoused to read them, but handid themover to me, to see if there was anythink in them which must be answered, in order to kip up appearuntses. The next letter is

No. II. 

"BELOVED! to what strange madnesses will passion lead one! Lady Griffin, since your avowal yesterday, has not spoken a word to your poor Matilda;has declared that she will admit no one (heigho! not even you, myAlgernon); and has locked herself in her own dressing-room. I do believethat she is JEALOUS, and fancies that you were in love with HER! Ha, ha!I could have told her ANOTHER TALE--n'est-ce pas? Adieu, adieu, adieu! Athousand thousand million kisses!

"M. G. 

"Monday afternoon, 2 o'clock. "

There was another letter kem before bedtime; for though me and mastercalled at the Griffinses, we wairnt aloud to enter at no price. Mortimerand Fitzclarence grin'd at me, as much as to say we were going to berelations; but I don't spose master was very sorry when he was obleachedto come back without seeing the fare objict of his affeckshns. 

Well, on Chewsdy there was the same game; ditto on Wensday; only, whenwe called there, who should we see but our father, Lord Crabs, who waswaiving his hand to Miss Kicksey, and saying HE SHOULD BE BACK TO DINNERAT 7, just as me and master came up the stares. There was no admittnsfor us though. "Bah! bah! never mind, " says my lord, taking hisson affeckshnately by the hand. "What, two strings to your bow; ay, Algernon? The dowager a little jealous, miss a little lovesick. But mylady's fit of anger will vanish, and I promise you, my boy, that youshall see your fair one to-morrow. "

And so saying, my lord walked master down stares, looking at him astender and affeckshnat, and speaking to him as sweet as posbill. Masterdid not know what to think of it. He never new what game his old fatherwas at; only he somehow felt that he had got his head in a net, in spiteof his suxess on Sunday. I knew it--I knew it quite well, as soon as Isaw the old genlmn igsammin him by a kind of smile which came over hisold face, and was somethink betwigst the angellic and the direbollicle. 

But master's dowts were cleared up nex day and every thing was brightagain. At brexfast, in comes a note with inclosier, boath of witch Ihere copy:--

No. IX. 

"Thursday morning. 

"Victoria, Victoria! Mamma has yielded at last; not her consent to ourunion, but her consent to receive you as before; and has promisedto forget the past. Silly woman, how could she ever think of you asanything but the lover of your Matilda? I am in a whirl of deliciousjoy and passionate excitement. I have been awake all this long night, thinking of thee, my Algernon, and longing for the blissful hour ofmeeting. 

"Come! M. G. "

This is the inclosier from my lady:--

"I will not tell you that your behavior on Sunday did not deeply shockme. I had been foolish enough to think of other plans, and to fancy yourheart (if you had any) was fixed elsewhere than on one at whose foiblesyou have often laughed with me, and whose person at least cannot havecharmed you. 

"My step-daughter will not, I presume, marry without at least goingthrough the ceremony of asking my consent; I cannot, as yet, give it. Have I not reason to doubt whether she will be happy in trusting herselfto you?

"But she is of age, and has the right to receive in her own house allthose who may be agreeable to her, --certainly you, who are likely to beone day so nearly connected with her. If I have honest reason to believethat your love for Miss Griffin is sincere; if I find in a few monthsthat you yourself are still desirous to marry her, I can, of course, place no further obstacles in your way. 

"You are welcome, then, to return to our hotel. I cannot promise toreceive you as I did of old; you would despise me if I did. I canpromise, however, to think no more of all that has passed betweenus, and yield up my own happiness for that of the daughter of my dearhusband. 

"L. E. G. "

Well, now, an't this a manly, straitforard letter enough, and natralfrom a woman whom we had, to confess the truth, treated most scuvvily?Master thought so, and went and made a tender, respeckful speach to LadyGriffin (a little flumry costs nothink). Grave and sorroflle he kist herhand, and, speakin in a very low adgitayted voice, calld Hevn to witnesshow he deplord that his conduct should ever have given rise to such anunfornt ideer; but if he might offer her esteem, respect, the warmestand tenderest admiration, he trusted she would accept the same, and adeal moar flumry of the kind, with dark, sollum glansis of the eyes, andplenty of white pockit-hankercher. 

He thought he'd make all safe. Poar fool! he was in a net--sich a net asI never yet see set to ketch a roag in. 

CHAPTER VI. 

THE JEWEL. 

The Shevalier de l'Orge, the young Frenchmin whom I wrote of in my last, who had been rather shy of his visits while master was coming it sovery strong, now came back to his old place by the side of Lady Griffin:there was no love now, though, betwigst him and master, although theshevallier had got his lady back agin; Deuceace being compleatly devotedto his crookid Veanus. 

The shevalier was a little, pale, moddist, insinifishnt creature; and Ishoodn't have thought, from his appearants, would have the heart to doharm to a fli, much less to stand befor such a tremendious tiger andfire-eater as my master. But I see putty well, after a week, from hismanner of going on--of speakin at master, and lookin at him, and oldinghis lips tight when Deuceace came into the room, and glaring at him withhis i's, that he hated the Honrabble Algernon Percy. 

Shall I tell you why? Because my Lady Griffin hated him: hated him wussthan pison, or the devvle, or even wuss than her daughter-in-law. Prapsyou phansy that the letter you have juss red was honest; praps youamadgin that the sean of the reading of the will came on by mere chans, and in the reglar cors of suckmstansies: it was all a GAME, I tellyou--a reglar trap; and that extrodnar clever young man, my master, asneatly put his foot into it, as ever a pocher did in fesnt preserve. 

The shevalier had his q from Lady Griffin. When Deuceace went off thefeald, back came De l'Orge to her feet, not a witt less tender thanbefor. Por fellow, por fellow! he really loved this woman. He might aswell have foln in love with a bore-constructor! He was so blinded andbeat by the power wich she had got over him, that if she told him blackwas white he'd beleave it, or if she ordered him to commit murder, he'ddo it: she wanted something very like it, I can tell you. 

I've already said how, in the fust part of their acquaintance, masterused to laff at De l'Orge's bad Inglish, and funny ways. The littlecreature had a thowsnd of these; and being small, and a Frenchman, master, in cors, looked on him with that good-humored kind of contempwhich a good Brittn ot always to show. He rayther treated him like anintelligent munky than a man, and ordered him about as if he'd bean mylady's footman. 

All this munseer took in very good part, until after the quarl betwigstmaster and Lady Griffin; when that lady took care to turn the tables. Whenever master and miss were not present (as I've heard the servantssay), she used to laff at shevalliay for his obeajance and sivillattyto master. For her part, she wondered how a man of his birth could acta servnt: how any man could submit to such contemsheous behavior fromanother; and then she told him how Deuceace was always snearing at himbehind his back; how, in fact, he ought to hate him corjaly, and how itwas suttaly time to show his sperrit. 

Well, the poar little man beleaved all this from his hart, and was angryor pleased, gentle or quarlsum, igsactly as my lady liked. There gotto be frequint rows betwigst him and master; sharp words flung at eachother across the dinner-table; dispewts about handing ladies theirsmeling-botls, or seeing them to their carridge; or going in and out ofa roam fust, or any such nonsince. 

"For hevn's sake, " I heerd my lady, in the midl of one of these tiffs, say, pail, and the tears trembling in her i's, "do, do be calm, Mr. Deuceace. Monsieur de l'Orge, I beseech you to forgive him. You are, both of you, so esteemed, lov'd, by members of this family, that for itspeace as well as your own, you should forbear to quarrel. "

It was on the way to the Sally Mangy that this brangling had begun, andit ended jest as they were seating themselves. I shall never forgit poarlittle De l'Orge's eyes, when my lady said "both of you. " He stair'dat my lady for a momint, turned pail, red, look'd wild, and then, goinground to master, shook his hand as if he would have wrung it off. Mr. Deuceace only bow'd and grin'd, and turned away quite stately; Missheaved a loud O from her busm, and looked up in his face with anigspreshn jest as if she could have eat him up with love; and the littleshevalliay sate down to his soop-plate, and wus so happy, that I'm blestif he wasn't crying! He thought the widdow had made her declyration, andwould have him; and so thought Deuceace, who look'd at her for some timemighty bitter and contempshus, and then fell a-talking with Miss. 

Now, though master didn't choose to marry Lady Griffin, as he might havedone, he yet thought fit to be very angry at the notion of her marryinganybody else; and so, consquintly, was in a fewry at this confisionwhich she had made regarding her parshaleaty for the French shevaleer. 

And this I've perseaved in the cors of my expearants through life, thatwhen you vex him, a roag's no longer a roag: you find him out at onstwhen he's in a passion, for he shows, as it ware, his cloven foot thevery instnt you tread on it. At least, this is what YOUNG roags do; itrequires very cool blood and long practis to get over this pint, and notto show your pashn when you feel it and snarl when you are angry. OldCrabs wouldn't do it; being like another noblemin, of whom I heard theDuke of Wellington say, while waiting behind his graci's chair, that ifyou were kicking him from behind, no one standing before him would knowit, from the bewtifle smiling igspreshn of his face. Young master hadn'tgot so far in the thief's grammer, and, when he was angry, show'd it. And it's also to be remarked (a very profownd observatin for a footmin, but we have i's though we DO wear plush britchis), it's to be remarked, I say, that one of these chaps is much sooner maid angry than another, because honest men yield to other people, roags never do; honest menlove other people, roags only themselves; and the slightest thing whichcomes in the way of thir beloved objects sets them fewrious. Masterhadn't led a life of gambling, swindling, and every kind of debotch tobe good-tempered at the end of it, I prommis you. 

He was in a pashun, and when he WAS in a pashn, a more insalent, insuffrable, overbearing broot didn't live. 

This was the very pint to which my lady wished to bring him; for I musttell you, that though she had been trying all her might to set masterand the shevalliay by the years, she had suxeaded only so far as tomake them hate each profowndly: but somehow or other, the 2 cox wouldn'tFIGHT. 

I doan't think Deuceace ever suspected any game on the part of herladyship, for she carried it on so admirally, that the quarls whichdaily took place betwigst him and the Frenchman never seemed to comefrom her; on the contry, she acted as the reglar pease-maker betweenthem, as I've just shown in the tiff which took place at the door ofthe Sally Mangy. Besides, the 2 young men, though reddy enough to snarl, were natrally unwilling to come to bloes. I'll tell you why: beingfriends, and idle, they spent their mornins as young fashnabblesgenrally do, at billiads, fensing, riding, pistle-shooting, or some suchimprooving study. In billiads, master beat the Frenchman hollow (andhad won a pretious sight of money from him: but that's neither here northere, or, as the French say, ontry noo); at pistle-shooting, mastercould knock down eight immidges out of ten, and De l'Orge seven; and infensing, the Frenchman could pink the Honorable Algernon down evry oneof his weskit buttns. They'd each of them been out more than onst, forevery Frenchman will fight, and master had been obleag'd to do so in thecors of his bisniss; and knowing each other's curridg, as well as thefact that either could put a hundrid bolls running into a hat at 30yards, they wairnt very willing to try such exparrymence upon their ownhats with their own heads in them. So you see they kep quiet, and onlygrould at each other. 

But to-day Deuceace was in one of his thundering black humers; and whenin this way he wouldn't stop for man or devvle. I said that he walkedaway from the shevalliay, who had given him his hand in his sudden bustof joyfle good-humor; and who, I do bleave, would have hugd a she-bear, so very happy was he. Master walked away from him pale and hotty, and, taking his seat at table, no moor mindid the brandishments of MissGriffin, but only replied to them with a pshaw, or a dam at one of usservnts, or abuse of the soop, or the wine; cussing and swearing like atrooper, and not like a well-bred son of a noble British peer. 

"Will your ladyship, " says he, slivering off the wing of a pully allybashymall, "allow me to help you?"

"I thank you! no; but I will trouble Monsieur de l'Orge. " And towardsthat gnlmn she turned, with a most tender and fasnating smile. 

"Your ladyship has taken a very sudden admiration for Mr. De l'Orge'scarving. You used to like mine once. "

"You are very skilful; but to-day, if you will allow me, I will partakeof something a little simpler. "

The Frenchman helped; and, being so happy, in cors, spilt the gravy. A great blob of brown sos spurted on to master's chick, and myandreweddown his shert-collar and virging-white weskit. 

"Confound you!" says he, "M. De l'Orge, you have done this on purpose. "And down went his knife and fork, over went his tumbler of wine, a dealof it into poar Miss Griffinses lap, who looked fritened and ready tocry. 

My lady bust into a fit of laffin, peel upon peel, as if it was the bestjoak in the world. De l'Orge giggled and grin'd too. "Pardong, " says he;"meal pardong, mong share munseer. " * And he looked as if he would havedone it again for a penny. 

 * In the long dialogues, we have generally ventured to change the peculiar spelling of our friend Mr. Yellowplush. 

The little Frenchman was quite in extasis; he found himself all of asuddn at the very top of the trea; and the laff for onst turned againsthis rivle: he actialy had the ordassaty to propose to my lady in Englishto take a glass of wine. 

"Veal you, " says he, in his jargin, "take a glas of Madere viz me, miladi?" And he looked round, as if he'd igsackly hit the English mannerand pronunciation. 

"With the greatest pleasure, " says Lady G. , most graciously nodding athim, and gazing at him as she drank up the wine. She'd refused masterbefore, and THIS didn't increase his good-humer. 

Well, they went on, master snarling, snapping, and swearing, makinghimself, I must confess, as much of a blaggard as any I ever see; andmy lady employing her time betwigst him and the shevalliay, doing everythink to irritate master, and flatter the Frenchmn. Desert came: and bythis time, Miss was stock-still with fright, the chevaleer half tipsywith pleasure and gratafied vannaty, my lady puffickly raygent withsmiles and master bloo with rage. 

"Mr. Deuceace, " says my lady, in a most winning voice, after a littlechaffing (in which she only worked him up moar and moar), "may I troubleyou for a few of those grapes? they look delicious. "

For answer, master seas'd hold of the grayp dish, and sent it slidingdown the table to De l'Orge; upsetting, in his way, fruit-plates, glasses, dickanters, and heaven knows what. 

"Monsieur de l'Orge, " says he, shouting out at the top of his voice, "have the goodness to help Lady Griffin. She wanted MY grapes long ago, and has found out they are sour!"

 . . . . . . 

There was a dead paws of a moment or so. 

 . . . . . . 

"Ah!" says my lady, "vous osez m'insulter, devant mes gens, dans mapropre maison--c'est par trop fort, monsieur. " And up she got, and flungout of the room. Miss followed her, screeching out, "Mamma--for God'ssake--Lady Griffin!" and here the door slammed on the pair. 

Her ladyship did very well to speak French. DE L'ORGE WOULD NOT HAVEUNDERSTOOD HER ELSE; as it was he heard quite enough; and as thedoor clikt too, in the presents of me, and Messeers Mortimer andFitzclarence, the family footmen, he walks round to my master, and hitshim a slap on the face, and says, "prends ca, menteur et lache!" whichmeans, "Take that, you liar and coward!"--rayther strong igspreshns forone genlmn to use to another. 

Master staggered back and looked bewildered; and then he gave a kindof a scream, and then he made a run at the Frenchman, and then me andMortimer flung ourselves upon him, whilst Fitzclarence embraced theshevalliay. 

"A demain!" says he, clinching his little fist, and walking away, notvery sorry to git off. 

When he was fairly down stares, we let go of master: who swalloweda goblit of water, and then pawsing a little and pullout his pus, hepresented to Messeers Mortimer and Fitzclarence a luydor each. "I willgive you five more to-morrow, " says he, "if you will promise to keepthis secrit. "

And then he walked in to the ladies. "If you knew, " says he, going upto Lady Griffin, and speaking very slow (in cors we were all at thekeyhole), "the pain I have endured in the last minute, in consequence ofthe rudeness and insolence of which I have been guilty to your ladyship, you would think my own remorse was punishment sufficient, and wouldgrant me pardon. "

My lady bowed, and said she didn't wish for explanations. Mr. Deuceacewas her daughter's guest, and not hers; but she certainly would neverdemean herself by sitting again at table with him. And so saying out sheboltid again. 

"Oh! Algernon! Algernon!" says Miss, in teers, "what is this dreadfulmystery--these fearful shocking quarrels? Tell me, has anythinghappened? Where, where is the chevalier?"

Master smiled and said, "Be under no alarm, my sweetest Matilda. Del'Orge did not understand a word of the dispute; he was too much inlove for that. He is but gone away for half an hour, I believe; and willreturn to coffee. "

I knew what master's game was, for if miss had got a hinkling of thequarrel betwigst him and the Frenchman, we should have had her screemingat the "Hotel Mirabeu, " and the juice and all to pay. He only stoptfor a few minnits and cumfitted her, and then drove off to his friend, Captain Bullseye, of the Rifles; with whom, I spose, he talked over thisunplesnt bisniss. We fownd, at our hotel, a note from De l'Orge, sayingwhere his secknd was to be seen. 

Two mornings after there was a parrowgraf in Gallynanny's Messinger, which I hear beg leaf to transcribe:--

"FEARFUL DUEL. --Yesterday morning, at six o'clock, a meeting took place, in the Bois de Boulogne, between the Hon. A. P. D--ce-ce, a younger sonof the Earl of Cr-bs, and the Chevalier de l'O---. The chevalier wasattended by Major de M---, of the Royal Guard, and the Hon. Mr. D---by Captain B-lls-ye, of the British Rifle Corps. As far as we have beenable to learn the particulars of this deplorable affair, the disputeoriginated in the house of a lovely lady (one of the most brilliantornaments of our embassy), and the duel took place on the morningensuing. 

"The chevalier (the challenged party, and the most accomplished amateurswordsman in Paris) waived his right of choosing the weapons, and thecombat took place with pistols. 

"The combatants were placed at forty paces, with directions to advanceto a barrier which separated them only eight paces. Each was furnishedwith two pistols. Monsieur de l'O--- fired almost immediately, and theball took effect in the left wrist of his antagonist, who dropped thepistol which he held in that hand. He fired, however, directly with hisright, and the chevalier fell to the ground, we fear mortally wounded. Aball has entered above his hip-joint, and there is very little hope thathe can recover. 

"We have heard that the cause of this desperate duel was a blow whichthe chevalier ventured to give to the Hon. Mr. D. If so, there is somereason for the unusual and determined manner in which the duel wasfought. 

"Mr. Deu--a-e returned to his hotel; whither his excellent father, theRight Hon. Earl of Cr-bs, immediately hastened on hearing of the sadnews, and is now bestowing on his son the most affectionate parentalattention. The news only reached his lordship yesterday at noon, whileat breakfast with his Excellency Lord Bobtail, our ambassador. The nobleearl fainted on receiving the intelligence; but in spite of the shock tohis own nerves and health, persisted in passing last night by the couchof his son. "

And so he did. "This is a sad business, Charles, " says my lord to me, after seeing his son, and settling himself down in our salong. "Have youany segars in the house? And hark ye, send me up a bottle of wine andsome luncheon. I can certainly not leave the neighborhood of my dearboy. "

CHAPTER VII. 

THE CONSQUINSIES. 

The shevalliay did not die, for the ball came out of its own accord, inthe midst of a violent fever and inflamayshn which was brot on by thewound. He was kept in bed for 6 weeks though, and did not recover for along time after. 

As for master, his lot, I'm sorry to say, was wuss than that of hisadvisary. Inflammation came on too; and, to make an ugly story short, they were obliged to take off his hand at the rist. 

He bore it, in cors, like a Trojin, and in a month he too was well, andhis wound heel'd; but I never see a man look so like a devvle as he usedsometimes, when he looked down at the stump!

To be sure, in Miss Griffinses eyes, this only indeerd him the mor. Shesent twenty noats a day to ask for him, calling him her beloved, herunfortunat, her hero, her wictim, and I dono what. I've kep some of thenoats, as I tell you, and curiously sentimentle they are, beating thesorrows of MacWhirter all to nothing. 

Old Crabs used to come offen, and consumed a power of wine and seagarsat our house. I bleave he was at Paris because there was an exycutionin his own house in England; and his son was a sure find (as they say)during his illness, and couldn't deny himself to the old genlmn. Hiseveninx my lord spent reglar at Lady Griffin's; where, as master wasill, I didn't go any more now, and where the shevalier wasn't there todisturb him. 

"You see how that woman hates you, Deuceace, " says my lord, one day, ina fit of cander, after they had been talking about Lady Griffin: "SHEHAS NOT DONE WITH YOU YET, I tell you fairly. "

"Curse her, " says master, in a fury, lifting up his maim'd arm--"curseher! but I will be even with her one day. I am sure of Matilda: I tookcare to put that beyond the reach of a failure. The girl must marry me, for her own sake. "

"FOR HER OWN SAKE! O ho! Good, good!" My lord lifted his i's, and saidgravely, "I understand, my dear boy: it is an excellent plan. "

"Well, " says master, grinning fearcely and knowingly at his exlent oldfather, "as the girl is safe, what harm can I fear from the fiend of astep-mother?"

My lord only gev a long whizzle, and, soon after, taking up his hat, walked off. I saw him sawnter down the Plas Vandome, and go in quitecalmly to the old door of Lady Griffinses hotel. Bless his old face!such a puffickly good-natured, kind-hearted, merry, selfish oldscoundrel, I never shall see again. 

His lordship was quite right in saying to master that "Lady Griffinhadn't done with him. " No moar she had. But she never would have thoughtof the nex game she was going to play, IF SOMEBODY HADN'T PUT HER UP TOIT. Who did? If you red the above passidge, and saw how a venrabble oldgenlmn took his hat, and sauntered down the Plas Vandome (looking hardand kind at all the nussary-maids--buns they call them in France--inthe way), I leave you to guess who was the author of the nex scheam: awoman, suttnly, never would have pitcht on it. 

In the fuss payper which I wrote concerning Mr. Deuceace's adventers, and his kind behayvior to Messrs. Dawkins and Blewitt, I had the honorof laying before the public a skidewl of my master's detts, in witch wasthe following itim:

 "Bills of xchange and I. O. U. 's, 4963L. 0s. 0d. "

The I. O. U. Se were trifling, say a thowsnd pound. The bills amountid tofour thowsnd moar. 

Now, the lor is in France, that if a genlmn gives these in England, anda French genlmn gits them in any way, he can pursew the Englishman whohas drawn them, even though he should be in France. Master did not knowthis fact--laboring under a very common mistak, that, when onst out ofEngland, he might wissle at all the debts he left behind him. 

My Lady Griffin sent over to her slissators in London, who madearrangemints with the persons who possest the fine collection ofortografs on stampt paper which master had left behind him; and theywere glad enuff to take any oppertunity of getting back their money. 

One fine morning, as I was looking about in the court-yard of ourhotel, talking to the servant-gals, as was my reglar custom, in order toimprove myself in the French languidge, one of them comes up to me andsays, "Tenez, Monsieur Charles, down below in the office there isa bailiff, with a couple of gendarmes, who is asking for yourmaster--a-t-il des dettes par hasard?"

I was struck all of a heap--the truth flasht on my mind's hi. "Toinette, " says I, for that was the gal's name--"Toinette, " saysI, giving her a kiss, "keep them for two minits, as you valyou myaffeckshn;" and then I gave her another kiss, and ran up stares to ourchambers. Master had now pretty well recovered of his wound, and wasaloud to drive abowt: it was lucky for him that he had the strength tomove. "Sir, sir, " says I, "the bailiffs are after you, and you must runfor your life. "

"Bailiff?" says he: "nonsense! I don't, thank heaven, owe a shilling toany man. "

"Stuff, sir, " says I, forgetting my respeck; "don't you owe money inEngland? I tell you the bailiffs are here, and will be on you in amoment. "

As I spoke, cling cling, ling ling, goes the bell of the antyshamber, and there they were sure enough!

What was to be done? Quick as litening, I throws off my livry coat, claps my goold lace hat on master's head, and makes him put on my livry. Then I wraps myself up in his dressing-gown, and lolling down on thesofa, bids him open the dor. 

There they were--the bailiff--two jondarms with him--Toinette, and anold waiter. When Toinette sees master, she smiles, and says: "Dis donc, Charles! ou est donc ton maitre? Chez lui, n'est-ce pas? C'est le jeunea monsieur, " says she, curtsying to the bailiff. 

The old waiter was just a-going to blurt out, "Mais ce n'est pas!" whenToinette stops him, and says, "Laissez donc passer ces messieurs, vieuxbete;" and in they walk, the 2 jon d'arms taking their post in the hall. 

Master throws open the salong doar very gravely, and touching MY hatsays, "Have you any orders about the cab, sir?"

"Why, no, Chawls, " says I; "I shan't drive out to-day. "

The old bailiff grinned, for he understood English (having had plentyof English customers), and says in French, as master goes out, "I think, sir, you had better let your servant get a coach, for I am under thepainful necessity of arresting you, au nom de la loi, for the sum ofninety-eight thousand seven hundred francs, owed by you to the SieurJacques Francois Lebrun, of Paris;" and he pulls out a number of bills, with master's acceptances on them sure enough. 

"Take a chair, sir, " says I; and down he sits; and I began to chaff him, as well as I could, about the weather, my illness, my sad axdent, havinglost one of my hands, which was stuck into my busum, and so on. 

At last, after a minnit or two, I could contane no longer, and bust outin a horse laff. 

The old fellow turned quite pail, and began to suspect somethink. "Hola!" says he; "gendarmes! a moi! a moi! Je suis floue, vole, " whichmeans, in English, that he was reglar sold. 

The jondarmes jumped into the room, and so did Toinette and thewaiter. Grasefly rising from my arm-chare, I took my hand from mydressing-gownd, and, flinging it open, stuck up on the chair one of theneatest legs ever seen. 

I then pinted majestickly--to what do you think?--to my PLUSH TITES!those sellabrated inigspressables which have rendered me famous inYourope. 

Taking the hint, the jondarmes and the servnts rord out laffing; andso did Charles Yellowplush, Esquire, I can tell you. Old Grippard thebailiff looked as if he would faint in his chare. 

I heard a kab galloping like mad out of the hotel-gate, and knew thenthat my master was safe. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

THE END OF MR. DEUCEACE'S HISTORY. LIMBO. 

My tail is droring rabidly to a close; my suvvice with Mr. Deuceacedidn't continyou very long after the last chapter, in which I describedmy admiral strattyjam, and my singlar self-devocean. There's very fewservnts, I can tell you, who'd have thought of such a contrivance, andvery few moar would have eggsycuted it when thought of. 

But, after all, beyond the trifling advantich to myself in sellingmaster's roab de sham, which you, gentle reader, may remember I woar, and in dixcovering a fipun note in one of the pockets, --beyond this, I say, there was to poar master very little advantich in what had beendone. It's true he had escaped. Very good. But Frans is not like GreatBrittin; a man in a livry coat, with 1 arm, is pretty easily known, andcaught, too, as I can tell you. 

Such was the case with master. He coodn leave Paris, moarover, if hewould. What was to become, in that case, of his bride--his unchbackedhairis? He knew that young lady's temprimong (as the Parishers say) toowell to let her long out of his site. She had nine thousand a yer. She'd been in love a duzn times befor, and mite be agin. The HonrabbleAlgernon Deuceace was a little too wide awake to trust much to theconstnsy of so very inflammable a young creacher. Heavn bless us, it wasa marycle she wasn't earlier married! I do bleave (from suttn seansthat past betwigst us) that she'd have married me, if she hadn't beensejuiced by the supearor rank and indianuity of the genlmn in whosesurvace I was. 

Well, to use a commin igspreshn, the beaks were after him. How was he tomanitch? He coodn get away from his debts, and he wooden quit the fareobjict of his affeckshns. He was ableejd, then, as the French say, tolie perdew, --going out at night, like a howl out of a hivy-bush, andreturning in the daytime to his roast. For its a maxum in France (and Iwood it were followed in Ingland), that after dark no man is lible forhis detts; and in any of the royal gardens--the Twillaries, the PallyRoil, or the Lucksimbug, for example--a man may wander from sunrise toevening, and hear nothing of the ojus dunns: they an't admitted intothese places of public enjyment and rondyvoo any more than dogs; thecenturies at the garden-gates having orders to shuit all such. 

Master, then, was in this uncomfrable situation--neither liking to gonor to stay! peeping out at nights to have an interview with his miss;ableagd to shuffle off her repeated questions as to the reason of allthis disgeise, and to talk of his two thowsnd a year jest as if he hadit and didn't owe a shilling in the world. 

Of course, now, he began to grow mighty eager for the marritch. 

He roat as many noats as she had done befor; swoar against delay andcerymony; talked of the pleasures of Hyming, the ardship that the ardorof two arts should be allowed to igspire, the folly of waiting for theconsent of Lady Griffin. She was but a step-mother, and an unkind one. Miss was (he said) a major, might marry whom she liked; and suttnly hadpaid Lady G. Quite as much attention as she ought, by paying her thecompliment to ask her at all. 

And so they went on. The curious thing was, that when master was pressedabout his cause for not coming out till night-time, he was misterus;and Miss Griffin, when asked why she wooden marry, igsprest, or rather, DIDN'T igspress, a simlar secrasy. Wasn't it hard? the cup seemed to beat the lip of both of 'em, and yet somehow, they could not manitch totake a drink. 

But one morning, in reply to a most desprat epistol wrote by my masterover night, Deuceace, delighted, gits an answer from his soal's beluffd, which ran thus:--

MISS GRIFFIN TO THE HON. A. P. DEUCEACE. 

"DEAREST, --You say you would share a cottage with me; there is no need, luckily, for that! You plead the sad sinking of your spirits atour delayed union. Beloved, do you think MY heart rejoices at ourseparation? You bid me disregard the refusal of Lady Griffin, and tellme that I owe her no further duty. 

"Adored Algernon! I can refuse you no more. I was willing not to lose asingle chance of reconciliation with this unnatural step-mother. Respectfor the memory of my sainted father bid me do all in my power to gainher consent to my union with you: nay, shall I own it? prudence dictatedthe measure; for to whom should she leave the share of money accorded toher by my father's will but to my father's child. 

"But there are bounds beyond which no forbearance can go; and, thankheaven, we have no need of looking to Lady Griffin for sordid wealth: wehave a competency without her. Is it not so, dearest Algernon?

"Be it as you wish, then, dearest, bravest, and best. Your poor Matildahas yielded to you her heart long ago; she has no longer need to keepback her name. Name the hour, and I will delay no more; but seek forrefuge in your arms from the contumely and insult which meet me everhere. 

"MATILDA. 

"P. S. Oh, Algernon! if you did but know what a noble part your dearfather has acted throughout, in doing his best endeavors to furtherour plans, and to soften Lady Griffin! It is not his fault that she isinexorable as she is. I send you a note sent by her to Lord Crabs; wewill laugh at it soon, n'est-ce pas?"

II. 

"MY LORD, --In reply to your demand for Miss Griffin's hand, in favor ofyour son, Mr. Algernon Deuceace, I can only repeat what I before havebeen under the necessity of stating to you, --that I do not believe aunion with a person of Mr. Deuceace's character would conduce to mystepdaughter's happiness, and therefore REFUSE MY CONSENT. I willbeg you to communicate the contents of this note to Mr. Deuceace; andimplore you no more to touch upon a subject which you must be aware isdeeply painful to me. 

"I remain your lordship's most humble servant, "L. E. GRIFFIN. 

"THE RIGHT HON. THE EARL OF CRABS. "

"Hang her ladyship!" says my master, "what care I for it?" As for theold lord who'd been so afishous in his kindness and advice, masterrecknsiled that pretty well, with thinking that his lordship knew he wasgoing to marry ten thousand a year, and igspected to get some share ofit; for he roat back the following letter to his father, as well as aflaming one to Miss:

"Thank you, my dear father, for your kindness in that awkward business. You know how painfully I am situated just now, and can pretty well guessBOTH THE CAUSES of my disquiet. A marriage with my beloved Matilda willmake me the happiest of men. The dear girl consents, and laughs atthe foolish pretensions of her mother-in-law. To tell you the truth, Iwonder she yielded to them so long. Carry your kindness a step further, and find for us a parson, a license, and make us two into one. We areboth major, you know; so that the ceremony of a guardian's consent isunnecessary. 

"Your affectionate

"ALGERNON DEUCEACE. 

"How I regret that difference between us some time back! Matters arechanged now, and shall be more still AFTER THE MARRIAGE. "

I knew what my master meant, --that he would give the old lord the moneyafter he was married; and as it was probble that miss would see theletter he roat, he made it such as not to let her see two clearly intohis present uncomfrable situation. 

I took this letter along with the tender one for Miss, reading bothof 'em, in course, by the way. Miss, on getting hers, gave aninegspressable look with the white of her i's, kist the letter, andprest it to her busm. Lord Crabs read his quite calm, and then theyfell a-talking together; and told me to wait awhile, and I should git ananser. 

After a deal of counseltation, my lord brought out a card, and there wassimply written on it, To-morrow, at the Ambassador's, at Twelve. 

"Carry that back to your master, Chawls, " says he, "and bid him not tofail. "

You may be sure I stept back to him pretty quick, and gave him the cardand the messinge. Master looked sattasfied with both; but suttnlynot over happy; no man is the day before his marridge; much more hismarridge with a hump-back, Harriss though she be. 

Well, as he was a-going to depart this bachelor life, he did what everyman in such suckmstances ought to do; he made his will, --that is, hemade a dispasition of his property, and wrote letters to his creditorstelling them of his lucky chance; and that after his marridge he wouldsutnly pay them every stiver. BEFORE, they must know his povvaty wellenough to be sure that paymint was out of the question. 

To do him justas, he seam'd to be inclined to do the thing that wasright, now that it didn't put him to any inkinvenients to do so. 

"Chawls, " says he, handing me over a tenpun-note, "here's your wagis, and thank you for getting me out of the scrape with the bailiffs: whenyou are married, you shall be my valet out of liv'ry, and I'll trebleyour salary. "

His vallit! praps his butler! Yes, thought I, here's a chance--a vallitto ten thousand a year. Nothing to do but to shave him, and read hisnotes, and let my whiskers grow; to dress in spick and span black, and aclean shut per day; muffings every night in the housekeeper's room; thepick of the gals in the servants' hall; a chap to clean my boots for me, and my master's opera bone reglar once a week. I knew what a vallit wasas well as any genlmn in service; and this I can tell you, he's genrallya hapier, idler, handsomer, mor genlmnly man than his master. Hehas more money to spend, for genlmn WILL leave their silver in theirwaistcoat pockets; more suxess among the gals; as good dinners, andas good wine--that is, if he's friends with the butler: and friends incorse they will be if they know which way their interest lies. 

But these are only cassels in the air, what the French call shutterd'Espang. It wasn't roat in the book of fate that I was to be Mr. Deuceace's vallit. 

Days will pass at last--even days befor a wedding, (the longist andunpleasantist day in the whole of a man's life, I can tell you, excep, may be, the day before his hanging); and at length Aroarer dawned onthe suspicious morning which was to unite in the bonds of Hyming theHonrable Algernon Percy Deuceace, Exquire, and Miss Matilda Griffin. Mymaster's wardrobe wasn't so rich as it had been; for he'd left thewhole of his nicknax and trumpry of dressing-cases and rob dy shams, hisbewtifle museum of varnished boots, his curous colleckshn of Stulz andStaub coats, when he had been ableaged to quit so suddnly our pore dearlodginx at the Hotel Mirabew; and being incog at a friend's house, ad contentid himself with ordring a coople of shoots of cloves from acommon tailor, with a suffishnt quantaty of linning. 

Well, he put on the best of his coats--a blue; and I thought it my dutyto ask him whether he'd want his frock again: he was good natured andsaid, "Take it and be hanged to you. " Half-past eleven o'clock came, and I was sent to look out at the door, if there were any suspiciouscharicters (a precious good nose I have to find a bailiff out, I cantell you, and an i which will almost see one round a corner); andpresenly a very modest green glass coach droave up, and in masterstept. I didn't in corse, appear on the box; because, being known, myappearints might have compromised master. But I took a short cut, andwalked as quick as posbil down to the Rue de Foburg St. Honore, wherehis exlnsy the English ambasdor lives, and where marridges are alwaysperformed betwigst English folk at Paris. 

 . . . . . . 

There is, almost nex door to the ambasdor's hotel, another hotel, ofthat lo kind which the French call cabbyrays, or wine-houses; and jestas master's green glass-coach pulled up, another coach drove off, out ofwhich came two ladies, whom I knew pretty well, --suffiz, that one hada humpback, and the ingenious reader will know why SHE came there; theother was poor Miss Kicksey, who came to see her turned off. 

Well, master's glass-coach droav up, jest as I got within a few yards ofthe door; our carridge, I say, droav up, and stopt. Down gits coachminto open the door, and comes I to give Mr. Deuceace an arm, when outof the cabaray shoot four fellows, and draw up betwigst the coach andembassy-doar; two other chaps go to the other doar of the carridge, and, opening it, one says--"Rendez-vous, M. Deuceace! Je vous arrete au nomde la loi!" (which means, "Get out of that, Mr. D. ; you are nabbed andno mistake. ") Master turned gashly pail, and sprung to the other sideof the coach, as if a serpint had stung him. He flung open the door, andwas for making off that way; but he saw the four chaps standing betwigstlibbarty and him. He slams down the front window, and screams out, "Fouettez, cocher!" (which means, "Go it, coachmm!") in a despert loudvoice; but coachmin wooden go it, and besides was off his box. 

The long and short of the matter was, that jest as I came up to the doortwo of the bums jumped into the carridge. I saw all; I knew my duty, andso very mornfly I got up behind. 

"Tiens, " says one of the chaps in the street; "c'est ce drole qui nous afloure l'autre jour. " I knew 'em, but was too melumcolly to smile. 

"Ou irons-nous donc?" says coachmin to the genlmn who had got inside. 

A deep woice from the intearor shouted out, in reply to the coachmin, "ASAINTE PELAGIE!"

 . . . . . . 

And now, praps, I ot to dixcribe to you the humors of the prizn ofSainte Pelagie, which is the French for Fleat, or Queen's Bentch: but onthis subject I'm rather shy of writing, partly because the admiral Bozhas, in the history of Mr. Pickwick, made such a dixcripshun of a prizn, that mine wooden read very amyousingly afterwids; and, also, because, to tell you the truth, I didn't stay long in it, being not in a humer towaist my igsistance by passing away the ears of my youth in such a dullplace. 

My fust errint now was, as you may phansy, to carry a noat from masterto his destined bride. The poar thing was sadly taken aback, as I cantell you, when she found, after remaining two hours at the Embassy, thather husband didn't make his appearance. And so, after staying on and on, and yet seeing no husband, she was forsed at last to trudge dishconslithome, where I was already waiting for her with a letter from my master. 

There was no use now denying the fact of his arrest, and so he confestit at onst: but he made a cock-and-bull story of treachery of a friend, infimous fodgery, and heaven knows what. However, it didn't matter much;if he had told her that he had been betrayed by the man in the moon, shewould have bleavd him. 

Lady Griffin never used to appear now at any of my visits. She kep onedrawing-room, and Miss dined and lived alone in another; they quarld somuch that praps it was best they should live apart; only my Lord Crabsused to see both, comforting each with that winning and innsnt way hehad. He came in as Miss, in tears, was lisning to my account of master'sseazure, and hoping that the prisn wasn't a horrid place, with a nastyhorrid dunjeon, and a dreadfle jailer, and nasty horrid bread and water. Law bless us! she had borrod her ideers from the novvles she had beenreading!

"O my lord, my lord, " says she, "have you heard this fatal story?"

"Dearest Matilda, what? For heaven's sake, you alarm me!What--yes--no--is it--no, it can't be! Speak!" says my lord, seizing meby the choler of my coat. "What has happened to my boy?"

"Please you, my lord, " says I, "he's at this moment in prisn, nowuss, --having been incarserated about two hours ago. "

"In prison! Algernon in prison! 'tis impossible! Imprisoned, for whatsum? Mention it, and I will pay to the utmost farthing in my power. "

"I'm sure your lordship is very kind, " says I (recklecting the seanbetwixgst him and master, whom he wanted to diddil out of a thowsandlb. ); "and you'll be happy to hear he's only in for a trifle. Fivethousand pound is, I think, pretty near the mark. "

"Five thousand pounds!--confusion!" says my lord, clasping his hands, and looking up to heaven, "and I have not five hundred! Dearest Matilda, how shall we help him?"

"Alas, my lord, I have but three guineas, and you know how Lady Griffinhas the--"

"Yes, my sweet child, I know what you would say; but be of goodcheer--Algernon, you know, has ample funds of his own. "

Thinking my lord meant Dawkins's five thousand, of which, to be sure, agood lump was left, I held my tung; but I cooden help wondering at LordCrabs's igstream compashn for his son, and Miss, with her 10, 000L. Ayear, having only 3 guineas is her pockit. 

I took home (bless us, what a home!) a long and very inflamble letterfrom Miss, in which she dixscribed her own sorror at the disappointment;swoar she lov'd him only the moar for his misfortns; made light of them;as a pusson for a paltry sum of five thousand pound ought never to becast down, 'specially as he had a certain independence in view; andvowed that nothing, nothing, should ever injuice her to part from him, etsettler, etsettler. 

I told master of the conversation which had past betwigst me and mylord, and of his handsome offers, and his horrow at hearing of his son'sbeing taken; and likewise mentioned how strange it was that Miss shouldonly have 3 guineas, and with such a fortn: bless us, I should have thotthat she would always have carried a hundred thowsnd lb. In her pockit!

At this master only said Pshaw! But the rest of the story about hisfather seemed to dixquiet him a good deal, and he made me repeat it overagin. 

He walked up and down the room agytated, and it seam'd as if a new litewas breaking in upon him. 

"Chawls, " says he, "did you observe--did Miss--did my father seemPARTICULARLY INTIMATE with Miss Griffin?"

"How do you mean, sir?" says I. 

"Did Lord Crabs appear very fond of Miss Griffin?"

"He was suttnly very kind to her. "

"Come, sir, speak at once: did Miss Griffin seem very fond of hislordship?"

"Why, to tell the truth, sir, I must say she seemed VERY fond of him. "

"What did he call her?"

"He called her his dearest gal. "

"Did he take her hand?"

"Yes, and he--"

"And he what?"

"He kist her, and told her not to be so wery down-hearted about themisfortn which had hapnd to you. "

"I have it now!" says he, clinching his fist, and growing gashlypail--"I have it now--the infernal old hoary scoundrel! the wicked, unnatural wretch! He would take her from me!" And he poured out a volleyof oaves which are impossbill to be repeatid here. 

I thot as much long ago: and when my lord kem with his vizits sopretious affeckshnt at my Lady Griffinses, I expected some such gamewas in the wind. Indeed, I'd heard a somethink of it from the Griffinsesservnts, that my lord was mighty tender with the ladies. 

One thing, however, was evident to a man of his intleckshal capassaties;he must either marry the gal at onst, or he stood very small chanceof having her. He must get out of limbo immediantly, or his respectidfather might be stepping into his vaykint shoes. Oh! he saw it allnow--the fust attempt at arest, the marridge fixt at 12 o'clock, andthe bayliffs fixt to come and intarup the marridge!--the jewel, praps, betwigst him and De l'Orge: but no, it was the WOMAN who did that--aMAN don't deal such fowl blows, igspecially a father to his son: a womanmay, poar thing!--she's no other means of reventch, and is used to fightwith underhand wepns all her life through. 

Well, whatever the pint might be, this Deuceace saw pretty clear thathe'd been beat by his father at his own game--a trapp set for himonst, which had been defitted by my presnts of mind--another trap setafterwids, in which my lord had been suxesfle. Now, my lord, roag as hewas, was much too good-natured to do an unkind ackshn, mearly forthe sake of doing it. He'd got to that pich that he didn't mindinjaries--they were all fair play to him--he gave 'em, and reseav'dthem, without a thought of mallis. If he wanted to injer his son, it wasto benefick himself. And how was this to be done? By getting the hairissto himself, to be sure. The Honrabble Mr. D. Didn't say so; but I knewhis feelinx well enough--he regretted that he had not given the oldgenlmn the money he askt for. 

Poar fello! he thought he had hit it; but he was wide of the mark afterall. 

Well, but what was to be done? It was clear that he must marry the galat any rate--cootky coot, as the French say: that is, marry her, andhang the igspence. 

To do so he must first git out of prisn--to get out of prisn he mustpay his debts--and to pay his debts, he must give every shilling hewas worth. Never mind: four thousand pound is a small stake to a reglargambler, igspecially when he must play it, or rot for life in prisn; andwhen, if he plays it well, it will give him ten thousand a year. 

So, seeing there was no help for it, he maid up his mind, andaccordingly wrote the follying letter to Miss Griffin:--

"MY ADORED MATILDA, --Your letter has indeed been a comfort to a poorfellow, who had hoped that this night would have been the most blessedin his life, and now finds himself condemned to spend it within aprison wall! You know the accursed conspiracy which has brought theseliabilities upon me, and the foolish friendship which has cost me somuch. But what matters! We have, as you say, enough, even though Imust pay this shameful demand upon me; and five thousand pounds are asnothing, compared to the happiness which I lose in being separated anight from thee! Courage, however! If I make a sacrifice it is for you;and I were heartless indeed if I allowed my own losses to balance for amoment against your happiness. 

"Is it not so, beloved one? IS not your happiness bound up with mine, in a union with me? I am proud to think so--proud, too, to offer such ahumble proof as this of the depth and purity of my affection. 

"Tell me that you will still be mine; tell me that you will be minetomorrow; and to-morrow these vile chains shall be removed, and I willbe free once more--or if bound, only bound to you! My adorable Matilda!my betrothed bride! Write to me ere the evening closes, for I shallnever be able to shut my eyes in slumber upon my prison couch, untilthey have been first blessed by the sight of a few words from thee!Write to me, love! write to me! I languish for the reply which is tomake or mar me for ever. Your affectionate

"A. P. D. "

Having polisht off this epistol, master intrustid it to me to carry, and bade me at the same time to try and give it into Miss Griffin's handalone. I ran with it to Lady Griffinses. I found Miss, as I desired, ina sollatary condition; and I presented her with master's pafewmed Billy. 

She read it, and the number of size to which she gave vint, and thetears which she shed, beggar digscription. She wep and sighed until Ithought she would bust. She even claspt my hand in her's, and said, "OCharles! is he very, very miserable?"

"He is, ma'am, " says I; "very miserable indeed--nobody, upon my honor, could be miserablerer. "

On hearing this pethetic remark, her mind was made up at onst: andsitting down to her eskrewtaw, she immediantly ableaged master with ananswer. Here it is in black and white:

"My prisoned bird shall pine no more, but fly home to its nest in thesearms! Adored Algernon, I will meet thee to-morrow, at the same place, atthe same hour. Then, then, it will be impossible for aught but death todivide us. 

"M. G. "

This kind of flumry style comes, you see, of reading novvles, andcultivating littery purshuits in a small way. How much better is itto be puffickly ignorant of the hart of writing, and to trust to thewriting of the heart. This is MY style: artyfiz I despise, and trustcompleatly to natur: but revnong a no mootong, as our continentialfriends remark: to that nice white sheep, Algernon Percy Deuceace, Exquire; that wenrabble old ram, my Lord Crabs his father; and thattender and dellygit young lamb, Miss Matilda Griffin. 

She had just foalded up into its proper triangular shape the noattranscribed abuff, and I was just on the point of saying, according tomy master's orders, "Miss, if you please, the Honrabble Mr. Deuceacewould be very much ableaged to you to keep the seminary which is to takeplace to-morrow a profound se--, " when my master's father entered, and Ifell back to the door. Miss, without a word, rusht into his arms, burstinto teers agin, as was her reglar way (it must be confest she was ofa very mist constitution), and showing to him his son's note, cried, "Look, my dear lord, how nobly your Algernon, OUR Algernon, writesto me. Who can doubt, after this, of the purity of his matchlessaffection?"

My lord took the letter, read it, seamed a good deal amyoused, andreturning it to its owner, said, very much to my surprise, "My dear MissGriffin, he certainly does seem in earnest; and if you choose to makethis match without the consent of your mother-in-law, you know theconsequence, and are of course your own mistress. "

"Consequences!--for shame, my lord! A little money, more or less, whatmatters it to two hearts like ours?"

"Hearts are very pretty things, my sweet young lady, but Three-per-Centsare better. "

"Nay, have we not an ample income of our own, without the aid of LadyGriffin?"

My lord shrugged his shoulders. "Be it so, my love, " says he. "I'm sureI can have no other reason to prevent a union which is founded upon suchdisinterested affection. "

And here the conversation dropt. Miss retired, clasping her hands, andmaking play with the whites of her i's. My lord began trotting up anddown the room, with his fat hands stuck in his britchis pockits, hiscountnince lighted up with igstream joy, and singing, to my inordnitigstonishment:

 "See the conquering hero comes! Tiddy diddy doll--tiddy doll, doll, doll. "

He began singing this song, and tearing up and down the room like mad. I stood amazd--a new light broke in upon me. He wasn't going, then, tomake love to Miss Griffin! Master might marry her! Had she not got thefor--?

I say, I was just standing stock still, my eyes fixt, my handspuppindicklar, my mouf wide open and these igstrordinary thoughtspassing in my mind, when my lord having got to the last "doll" of hissong, just as I came to the sillible "for" of my ventriloquism, orinward speech--we had eatch jest reached the pint digscribed, when themeditations of both were sudnly stopt, by my lord, in the midst of hissingin and trottin match, coming bolt up aginst poar me, sending me upaginst one end of the room, himself flying back to the other: and itwas only after considrabble agitation that we were at length restored toanything like a liquilibrium. 

"What, YOU here, you infernal rascal?" says my lord. 

"Your lordship's very kind to notus me, " says I; "I am here. " And I gavehim a look. 

He saw I knew the whole game. 

And after whisling a bit, as was his habit when puzzled (I bleavehe'd have only whisled if he had been told he was to be hanged in fiveminits), after whisling a bit, he stops sudnly, and coming up to me, says:

"Hearkye, Charles, this marriage must take place to-morrow. "

"Must it, sir?" says I; "now, for my part, I don't think--"

"Stop, my good fellow; if it does not take place, what do you gain?"

This stagger'd me. If it didn't take place, I only lost a situation, formaster had but just enough money to pay his detts; and it wooden soot mybook to serve him in prisn or starving. 

"Well, " says my lord, "you see the force of my argument. Now, lookhere!" and he lugs out a crisp, fluttering, snowy HUNDRED-PUN NOTE! "Ifmy son and Miss Griffin are married to-morrow, you shall have this; andI will, moreover, take you into my service, and give you double yourpresent wages. "

Flesh and blood cooden bear it. "My lord, " says I, laying my hand uponmy busm, "only give me security, and I'm yours for ever. "

The old noblemin grin'd, and pattid me on the shoulder. "Right, mylad, " says he, "right--you're a nice promising youth. Here is the bestsecurity. " And he pulls out his pockit-book, returns the hundred-punbill, and takes out one for fifty. "Here is half to-day; to-morrow youshall have the remainder. "

My fingers trembled a little as I took the pretty fluttering bit ofpaper, about five times as big as any sum of money I had ever had in mylife. I cast my i upon the amount: it was a fifty sure enough--a bankposs-bill, made payable to Leonora Emilia Griffin, and indorsed by her. The cat was out of the bag. Now, gentle reader, I spose you begin to seethe game. 

"Recollect, from this day you are in my service. "

"My lord, you overpoar me with your faviors. "

"Go to the devil, sir, " says he: "do your duty, and hold your tongue. "

And thus I went from the service of the Honorabble Algernon Deuceace tothat of his exlnsy the Right Honorabble Earl of Crabs. 

 . . . . . . 

On going back to prisn, I found Deuceace locked up in that oajus placeto which his igstravygansies had deservedly led him; and felt for him, Imust say, a great deal of contemp. A raskle such as he--a swindler, whohad robbed poar Dawkins of the means of igsistance; who had cheated hisfellow-roag, Mr. Richard Blewitt, and who was making a musnary marridgewith a disgusting creacher like Miss Griffin, didn merit any compashn onmy purt; and I determined quite to keep secret the suckmstansies of myprivit intervew with his exlnsy my presnt master. 

I gev him Miss Griffinses trianglar, which he read with a satasfied air. Then, turning to me, says he: "You gave this to Miss Griffin alone?"

"Yes, sir. "

"You gave her my message?"

"Yes, sir. "

"And you are quite sure Lord Crabs was not there when you gave eitherthe message or the note?"

"Not there upon my honor, " says I. 

"Hang your honor, sir! Brush my hat and coat, and go CALL A COACH--doyou hear?"

 . . . . . . 

I did as I was ordered; and on coming back found master in what'scalled, I think, the greffe of the prisn. The officer in waiting hadout a great register, and was talking to master in the French tongue, incoarse; a number of poar prisners were looking eagerly on. 

"Let us see, my lor, " says he; "the debt is 98, 700 francs; there arecapture expenses, interest so much; and the whole sum amounts to ahundred thousand francs, moins 13. "

Deuceace, in a very myjestic way, takes out of his pocketbook fourthowsnd pun notes. "This is not French money, but I presume that youknow it, M. Greffier, " says he. 

The greffier turned round to old Solomon, a money-changer, who had oneor two clients in the prisn, and hapnd luckily to be there. "Les billetssont bons, " says he. "Je les prendrai pour cent mille douze cent francs, et j'espere, my lor, de vous revoir. "

"Good, " says the greffier; "I know them to be good, and I will give mylor the difference, and make out his release. "

Which was done. The poar debtors gave a feeble cheer, as the greatdubble iron gates swung open and clang to again, and Deuceace stept outand me after him, to breathe the fresh hair. 

He had been in the place but six hours, and was now free again--free, and to be married to ten thousand a year nex day. But, for all that, helookt very faint and pale. He HAD put down his great stake; and when hecame out of Sainte Pelagie, he had but fifty pounds left in the world!

Never mind--when onst the money's down, make your mind easy; and soDeuceace did. He drove back to the Hotel Mirabew, where he orderedapartmince infinately more splendid than befor; and I pretty soon toldToinette, and the rest of the suvvants, how nobly he behayved, and howhe valyoud four thousnd pound no more than ditch water. And such was theconsquincies of my praises, and the poplarity I got for us boath, thatthe delighted landlady immediantly charged him dubble what she wouldhave done, if it hadn been for my stoaries. 

He ordered splendid apartmince, then, for the nex week; acarridge-and-four for Fontainebleau to-morrow at 12 precisely; andhaving settled all these things, went quietly to the "Roshy de Cancale, "where he dined: as well he might, for it was now eight o'clock. Ididn't spare the shompang neither that night, I can tell you; for whenI carried the note he gave me for Miss Griffin in the evening, informingher of his freedom, that young lady remarked my hagitated manner ofwalking and speaking, and said, "Honest Charles! he is flusht with theevents of the day. Here, Charles, is a napoleon; take it and drink toyour mistress. "

I pockitid it; but, I must say, I didn't like the money--it went againstmy stomick to take it. 

CHAPTER IX. 

THE MARRIAGE. 

Well, the nex day came: at 12 the carridge-and-four was waiting at theambasdor's doar; and Miss Griffin and the faithfle Kicksey were punctialto the apintment. 

I don't wish to digscribe the marridge seminary--how the embasy chaplingjined the hands of this loving young couple--how one of the embasyfootmin was called in to witness the marridge--how Miss wep and faintedas usial--and how Deuceace carried her, fainting, to the brisky, anddrove off to Fontingblo, where they were to pass the fust weak of thehoney-moon. They took no servnts, because they wisht, they said, tobe privit. And so, when I had shut up the steps, and bid the postiliondrive on, I bid ajew to the Honrabble Algernon, and went off strait tohis exlent father. 

"Is it all over, Chawls?" said he. 

"I saw them turned off at igsactly a quarter past 12, my lord, " says I. 

"Did you give Miss Griffin the paper, as I told you, before hermarriage?"

"I did, my lord, in the presents of Mr. Brown, Lord Bobtail's man; whocan swear to her having had it. "

I must tell you that my lord had made me read a paper which Lady Griffinhad written, and which I was comishnd to give in the manner menshndabuff. It ran to this effect:--

"According to the authority given me by the will of my late dearhusband, I forbid the marriage of Miss Griffin with the HonorableAlgernon Percy Deuceace. If Miss Griffin persists in the union, I warnher that she must abide by the consequences of her act. 

"LEONORA EMILIA GRIFFIN. "

"RUE DE RIVOLI, May 8, 1818. "

When I gave this to Miss as she entered the cortyard, a minnit before mymaster's arrivle, she only read it contemptiously, and said, "I laugh atthe threats of Lady Griffin;" and she toar the paper in two, and walkedon, leaning on the arm of the faithful and obleaging Miss Kicksey. 

I picked up the paper for fear of axdents, and brot it to my lord. Not that there was any necessaty; for he'd kep a copy, and made me andanother witniss (my Lady Griffin's solissator) read them both, before hesent either away. 

"Good!" says he; and he projuiced from his potfolio the fello of thatbewchus fifty-pun note, which he'd given me yesterday. "I keep mypromise, you see, Charles, " says he. "You are now in Lady Griffin'sservice, in the place of Mr. Fitzclarence, who retires. Go to Froje's, and get a livery. "

"But, my lord, " says I, "I was not to go into Lady Griffnses service, according to the bargain, but into--"

"It's all the same thing, " says he; and he walked off. I went to Mr. Froje's, and ordered a new livry; and found, likwise, that our coachminand Munseer Mortimer had been there too. My lady's livery was changed, and was now of the same color as my old coat at Mr. Deuceace's; and I'mblest if there wasn't a tremenjious great earl's corronit on the butins, instid of the Griffin rampint, which was worn befoar. 

I asked no questions, however, but had myself measured; and slep thatnight at the Plas Vandome. I didn't go out with the carridge for a dayor two, though; my lady only taking one footmin, she said, until HER NEWCARRIDGE was turned out. 

I think you can guess what's in the wind NOW!

I bot myself a dressing-case, a box of Ody colong, a few duzen lawnsherts and neckcloths, and other things which were necessary for agenlmn in my rank. Silk stockings was provided by the rules of thehouse. And I completed the bisniss by writing the follying ginteelletter to my late master:--

"CHARLES YELLOWPLUSH, ESQUIRE, TO THE HONORABLE A. P. DEUCEACE. 

"SUR, --Suckmstansies have acurd sins I last had the honner of wating onyou, which render it impossbil that I should remane any longer in yoursuvvice. I'll thank you to leave out my thinx, when they come home onSattady from the wash. 

"Your obeajnt servnt, "CHARLES YELLOWPLUSH. "

"PLAS VENDOME. "

The athography of the abuv noat, I confess, is atrocious; but kevoolyvoo? I was only eighteen, and hadn then the expearance in writingwhich I've enjide sins. 

Having thus done my jewty in evry way, I shall prosead, in the nexchapter, to say what hapnd in my new place. 

CHAPTER X. 

THE HONEY-MOON. 

The weak at Fontingblow past quickly away; and at the end of it, our sonand daughter-in-law--a pare of nice young tuttle-duvs--returned to theirnest, at the Hotel Mirabew. I suspeck that the COCK turtle-dove waspreshos sick of his barging. 

When they arriv'd, the fust thing they found on their table was a largeparsle wrapt up in silver paper, and a newspaper, and a couple of cards, tied up with a peace of white ribbing. In the parsle was a hansume pieceof plum-cake, with a deal of sugar. On the cards was wrote, in Goffickcharacters, Earl of Crabs. 

And, in very small Italian, Countess of Crabs. 

And in the paper was the following parrowgraff:--

"MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. --Yesterday, at the British embassy, the RightHonorable John Augustus Altamont Plantagenet, Earl of Crabs, to LeonoraEmilia, widow of the late Lieutenant-General Sir George Griffin, K. C. B. An elegant dejeune was given to the happy couple by his ExcellencyLord Bobtail, who gave away the bride. The elite of the foreigndiplomacy, the Prince Talleyrand and Marshal the Duke of Dalmatia onbehalf of H. M. The King of France, honored the banquet and the marriageceremony. Lord and Lady Crabs intend passing a few weeks at SaintCloud. "

The above dockyments, along with my own triffling billy, of which I havealso givn a copy, greated Mr. And Mrs. Deuceace on their arrivle fromFontingblo. Not being present, I can't say what Deuceace said; but I canfancy how he LOOKT, and how poor Mrs. Deuceace lookt. They weren't muchinclined to rest after the fiteeg of the junny; for, in 1/2 an hourafter their arrival at Paris, the hosses were put to the carridgeagen, and down they came thundering to our country-house at St. Cloud(pronounst by those absud Frenchmin Sing Kloo), to interrup our chasteloves and delishs marridge injyments. 

My lord was sittn in a crimson satan dressing-gown, lolling on a sofa atan open windy, smoaking seagars, as ushle; her ladyship, who, to du herjustice, didn mind the smell, occupied another end of the room, andwas working, in wusted, a pare of slippers, or an umbrellore case, or acoal-skittle, or some such nonsints. You would have thought to have sean'em that they had been married a sentry, at least. Well, I bust in uponthis conjugal tator-tator, and said, very much alarmed, "My lord, here'syour son and daughter-in-law. "

"Well, " says my lord, quite calm, "and what then?"

"Mr. Deuceace!" says my lady, starting up, and looking fritened. 

"Yes, my love, my son; but you need not be alarmed. Pray, Charles, saythat Lady Crabs and I will be very happy to see Mr. And Mrs. Deuceace;and that they must excuse us receiving them en famille. Sit still, myblessing--take things coolly. Have you got the box with the papers?"

My lady pointed to a great green box--the same from which she had takenthe papers, when Deuceace fust saw them, --and handed over to my lord afine gold key. I went out, met Deuceace and his wife on the stepps, gavemy messinge, and bowed them palitely in. 

My lord didn't rise, but smoaked away as usual (praps a little quicker, but I can't say); my lady sat upright, looking handsum and strong. Deuceace walked in, his left arm tied to his breast, his wife and hat onthe other. He looked very pale and frightened; his wife, poar thing! hadher head berried in her handkerchief, and sobd fit to break her heart. 

Miss Kicksey, who was in the room (but I didn't mention her, she wasless than nothink in our house), went up to Mrs. Deuceace at onst, andheld out her arms--she had a heart, that old Kicksey, and I respect herfor it. The poor hunchback flung herself into Miss's arms, with a kindof whooping screech, and kep there for some time, sobbing in quite ahistorical manner. I saw there was going to be a sean, and so, in cors, left the door ajar. 

"Welcome to Saint Cloud, Algy my boy!" says my lord, in a loud, heartyvoice. "You thought you would give us the slip, eh, you rogue? Butwe knew it, my dear fellow: we knew the whole affair--did we not, mysoul?--and you see, kept our secret better than you did yours. "

"I must confess, sir, " says Deuceace, bowing, "that I had no idea of thehappiness which awaited me in the shape of a mother-in-law. "

"No, you dog; no, no, " says my lord, giggling: "old birds, you know, notto be caught with chaff, like young ones. But here we are, all splicedand happy, at last. Sit down, Algernon; let us smoke a segar, and talkover the perils and adventures of the last month. My love, " says mylord, turning to his lady, "you have no malice against poor Algernon, Itrust? Pray shake HIS HAND. " (A grin. )

But my lady rose and said, "I have told Mr. Deuceace, that I neverwished to see him, or speak to him, more. I see no reason, now, tochange my opinion. " And herewith she sailed out of the room, by the doorthrough which Kicksey had carried poor Mrs. Deuceace. 

"Well, well, " says my lord, as Lady Crabs swept by, "I was in hopes shehad forgiven you; but I know the whole story, and I must confess youused her cruelly ill. Two strings to your bow!--that was your game, wasit, you rogue?"

"Do you mean, my lord, that you know all that past between me and LadyGrif--Lady Crabs, before our quarrel?"

"Perfectly--you made love to her, and she was almost in love withyou; you jilted her for money, she got a man to shoot your hand off inrevenge: no more dice-boxes, now, Deuceace; no more sauter la coupe. Ican't think how the deuce you will manage to live without them. "

"Your lordship is very kind; but I have given up play altogether, " saysDeuceace, looking mighty black and uneasy. 

"Oh, indeed! Benedick has turned a moral man, has he? This is better andbetter. Are you thinking of going into the church, Deuceace?"

"My lord, may I ask you to be a little more serious?"

"Serious! a quoi bon? I am serious--serious in my surprise that, whenyou might have had either of these women, you should have preferred thathideous wife of yours. "

"May I ask you, in turn, how you came to be so little squeamish abouta wife, as to choose a woman who had just been making love to your ownson?" says Deuceace, growing fierce. 

"How can you ask such a question? I owe forty thousand pounds--thereis an execution at Sizes Hall--every acre I have is in the hands ofmy creditors; and that's why I married her. Do you think there was anylove? Lady Crabs is a dev'lish fine woman, but she's not a fool--shemarried me for my coronet, and I married her for her money. "

"Well, my lord, you need not ask me, I think, why I married thedaughter-in-law. "

"Yes, but I DO, my dear boy. How the deuce are you to live? Dawkins'sfive thousand pounds won't last forever; and afterwards?"

"You don't mean, my lord--you don't--I mean, you can't-- D---!" says he, starting up, and losing all patience, "you don't dare to say that MissGriffin had not a fortune of ten thousand a year?"

My lord was rolling up, and wetting betwigst his lips, another segar; helookt up, after he had lighted it, and said quietly--

"Certainly, Miss Griffin had a fortune of ten thousand a year. "

"Well, sir, and has she not got it now? Has she spent it in a week?"

"SHE HAS NOT GOT A SIX-PENCE NOW: SHE MARRIED WITHOUT HER MOTHER'SCONSENT!"

Deuceace sunk down in a chair; and I never see such a dreadful pictureof despair as there was in the face of that retchid man!--he writhed, and nasht his teeth, he tore open his coat, and wriggled madly the stumpof his left hand, until, fairly beat, he threw it over his livid paleface, and sinking backwards, fairly wept alowd. 

Bah! it's a dreddfle thing to hear a man crying! his pashn torn up fromthe very roots of his heart, as it must be before it can git such avent. My lord, meanwhile, rolled his segar, lighted it, and went on. 

"My dear boy, the girl has not a shilling. I wished to have left youalone in peace, with your four thousand pounds: you might have liveddecently upon it in Germany, where money is at 5 per cent, where yourduns would not find you, and a couple of hundred a year would have keptyou and your wife in comfort. But, you see, Lady Crabs would not listento it. You had injured her; and, after she had tried to kill you andfailed, she determined to ruin you, and succeeded. I must own to youthat I directed the arresting business, and put her up to buying yourprotested bills: she got them for a trifle, and as you have paid them, has made a good two thousand pounds by her bargain. It was a painfulthing to be sure, for a father to get his son arrested; but quevoulez-vous! I did not appear in the transaction: she would have youruined; and it was absolutely necessary that YOU should marry before Icould, so I pleaded your cause with Miss Griffin, and made you the happyman you are. You rogue, you rogue! you thought to match your old father, did you? But, never mind; lunch will be ready soon. In the meantime, have a segar, and drink a glass of Sauterne. "

Deuceace, who had been listening to this speech, sprung up wildly. 

"I'll not believe it, " he said: "it's a lie, an infernal lie! forgedby you, you hoary villain, and by the murderess and strumpet you havemarried. I'll not believe it; show me the will. Matilda! Matilda!"shouted he, screaming hoarsely, and flinging open the door by which shehad gone out. 

"Keep your temper, my boy. You ARE vexed, and I feel for you: but don'tuse such bad language: it is quite needless, believe me. "

"Matilda!" shouted out Deuceace again; and the poor crooked thing cametrembling in, followed by Miss Kicksey. 

"Is this true, woman?" says he, clutching hold of her hand. 

"What, dear Algernon?" says she. 

"What?" screams out Deuceace, --"what? Why that you are a beggar, formarrying without your mother's consent--that you basely lied to me, inorder to bring about this match--that you are a swindler, in conspiracywith that old fiend yonder and the she-devil his wife?"

"It is true, " sobbed the poor woman, "that I have nothing; but--"

"Nothing but what? Why don't you speak, you drivelling fool?"

"I have nothing!--but you, dearest, have two thousand a year. Is thatnot enough for us? You love me for myself, don't you, Algernon? You havetold me so a thousand times--say so again, dear husband; and do not, donot be so unkind. " And here she sank on her knees, and clung to him, andtried to catch his hand, and kiss it. 

"How much did you say?" says my lord. 

"Two thousand a year, sir; he has told us so a thousand times. "

"TWO THOUSAND! Two thou--ho, ho, ho!--haw! haw! haw!" roars my lord. "That is, I vow, the best thing I ever heard in my life. My dearcreature, he has not a shilling--not a single maravedi, by all the godsand goddesses. " And this exlnt noblemin began laffin louder than ever: avery kind and feeling genlmn he was, as all must confess. 

There was a paws: and Mrs. Deuceace didn begin cussing and swearing ather husband as he had done at her: she only said, "O Algernon! is thistrue?" and got up, and went to a chair and wep in quiet. 

My lord opened the great box. "If you or your lawyers would like toexamine Sir George's will, it is quite at your service; you will seehere the proviso which I mentioned, that gives the entire fortune toLady Griffin--Lady Crabs that is: and here, my dear boy, you see thedanger of hasty conclusions. Her ladyship only showed you the FIRST PAGEOF THE WILL, of course; she wanted to try you. You thought you made agreat stroke in at once proposing to Miss Griffin--do not mind it, mylove, he really loves you now very sincerely!--when, in fact, youwould have done much better to have read the rest of the will. You werecompletely bitten, my boy--humbugged, bamboozled--ay, and by your oldfather, you dog. I told you I would, you know, when you refused to lendme a portion of your Dawkins money. I told you I would; and I DID. I hadyou the very next day. Let this be a lesson to you, Percy my boy; don'ttry your luck again against such old hands: look deuced well before youleap: audi alteram partem, my lad, which means, read both sides of thewill. I think lunch is ready; but I see you don't smoke. Shall we goin?"

"Stop, my lord, " says Mr. Deuceace, very humble: "I shall not share yourhospitality--but--but you know my condition; I am penniless--you knowthe manner in which my wife has been brought up--"

"The Honorable Mrs. Deuceace, sir, shall always find a home here, as ifnothing had occurred to interrupt the friendship between her dear motherand herself. "

"And for me, sir, " says Deuceace, speaking faint, and very slow; "Ihope--I trust--I think, my lord, you will not forget me?"

"Forget you, sir; certainly not. "

"And that you will make some provision--?"

"Algernon Deuceace, " says my lord, getting up from the sophy, andlooking at him with sich a jolly malignity, as I never see, "I declare, before heaven, that I will not give you a penny!"

Hereupon my lord held out his hand to Mrs. Deuceace, and said, "My dear, will you join your mother and me? We shall always, as I said, have ahome for you. "

"My lord, " said the poar thing, dropping a curtsy, "my home is withHIM!"

 . . . . . . 

About three months after, when the season was beginning at Paris, andthe autumn leafs was on the ground, my lord, my lady, me and Mortimer, were taking a stroal in the Boddy Balong, the carridge driving on slowlyahead, and us as happy as possbill, admiring the pleasant woods and thegoldn sunset. 

My lord was expayshating to my lady upon the exquizit beauty of thesean, and pouring forth a host of butifle and virtuous sentamentssootable to the hour. It was dalitefle to hear him. "Ah!" said he, "black must be the heart, my love, which does not feel the influenceof a scene like this; gathering as it were, from those sunlit skies, a portion of their celestial gold, and gaining somewhat of heaven witheach pure draught of this delicious air!"

Lady Crabs did not speak, but prest his arm and looked upwards. Mortimerand I, too, felt some of the infliwents of the sean, and lent on ourgoold sticks in silence. The carriage drew up close to us, and my lordand my lady sauntered slowly tords it. 

Jest at the place was a bench, and on the bench sate a poorly drestwoman, and by her, leaning against a tree, was a man whom I thought I'dsean befor. He was drest in a shabby blew coat, with white seems andcopper buttons; a torn hat was on his head, and great quantaties ofmatted hair and whiskers disfiggared his countnints. He was not shaved, and as pale as stone. 

My lord and lady didn tak the slightest notice of him, but past on tothe carridge. Me and Mortimer lickwise took OUR places. As we past, theman had got a grip of the woman's shoulder, who was holding down herhead sobbing bitterly. 

No sooner were my lord and lady seated, than they both, with igstreamdellixy and good natur, burst into a ror of lafter, peal upon peal, whooping and screaching enough to frighten the evening silents. 

DEUCEACE turned round. I see his face now--the face of a devvle of hell!Fust, he lookt towards the carridge, and pinted to it with his maimedarm; then he raised the other, AND STRUCK THE WOMAN BY HIS SIDE. Shefell, screaming. 

Poor thing! Poor thing!

MR. YELLOWPLUSH'S AJEW. 

The end of Mr. Deuceace's history is going to be the end of mycorrispondince. I wish the public was as sory to part with me as I amwith the public; becaws I fansy reely that we've become frends, and fealfor my part a becoming greaf at saying ajew. 

It's imposbill for me to continyow, however, a-writin, as I havedone--violetting the rules of authography, and trampling upon the fustprincepills of English grammar. When I began, I knew no better: when I'dcarrid on these papers a little further, and grew accustmd to writin, Ibegan to smel out somethink quear in my style. Within the last sex weaksI have been learning to spell: and when all the world was rejoicing atthe festivvaties of our youthful Quean--*when all i's were fixed uponher long sweet of ambasdors and princes, following the splendid carridgeof Marshle the Duke of Damlatiar, and blinking at the pearls and diminceof Prince Oystereasy--Yellowplush was in his loanly pantry--HIS eyeswere fixt upon the spelling-book--his heart was bent upon mastring thediffickleties of the littery professhn. I have been, in fact, CONVERTID. 

* This was written in 1838. 

You shall here how. Ours, you know, is a Wig house; and ever sins histhird son has got a place in the Treasury, his secknd a captingsy in theGuards, his fust, the secretary of embasy at Pekin, with a prospickof being appinted ambasdor at Loo Choo--ever sins master's sons havereseaved these attentions, and master himself has had the promis of apearitch, he has been the most reglar, consistnt, honrabble Libbaral, inor out of the House of Commins. 

Well, being a Whig, it's the fashn, as you know, to reseave litterypipple; and accordingly, at dinner, tother day, whose name do you thinkI had to hollar out on the fust landing-place about a wick ago? Afterseveral dukes and markises had been enounced, a very gentell fly drivesup to our doar, and out steps two gentlemen. One was pail, and worspektickles, a wig, and a white neckcloth. The other was slim with ahook nose, a pail fase, a small waist, a pare of falling shoulders, atight coat, and a catarack of black satting tumbling out of his busm, and falling into a gilt velvet weskit. The little genlmn settled hiswigg, and pulled out his ribbins; the younger one fluffed the dust ofhis shoes, looked at his whiskers in a little pockit-glas, settled hiscrevatt; and they both mounted upstairs. 

"What name, sir?" says I, to the old genlmn. 

"Name!--a! now, you thief o' the wurrld, " says he, "do you pretindnat to know ME? Say it's the Cabinet Cyclopa--no, I mane the LitheraryChran--psha!--bluthanowns!--say it's DOCTHOR DIOCLESIAN LARNER--I thinkhe'll know me now--ay, Nid?" But the genlmn called Nid was at the botmof the stare, and pretended to be very busy with his shoo-string. So thelittle genlmn went upstares alone. 

"DOCTOR DIOLESIUS LARNER!" says I. 

"DOCTOR ATHANASIUS LARDNER!" says Greville Fitz-Roy, our secknd footman, on the fust landing-place. 

"DOCTOR IGNATIUS LOYOLA!" says the groom of the chambers, who pretendsto be a scholar; and in the little genlmn went. When safely housed, the other chap came; and when I asked him his name, said, in a thick, gobbling kind of voice:

"Sawedwadgeorgeearllittnbulwig. "

"Sir what?" says I, quite agast at the name. 

"Sawedwad--no, I mean MISTAWedwad Lyttn Bulwig. "

My neas trembled under me, my i's fild with tiers, my voice shook, asI past up the venrabble name to the other footman, and saw this fust ofEnglish writers go up to the drawing-room!

It's needless to mention the names of the rest of the compny, or todixcribe the suckmstansies of the dinner. Suffiz to say that the twolittery genlmn behaved very well, and seamed to have good appytights;igspecially the little Irishman in the whig, who et, drunk, and talkedas much as a duzn. He told how he'd been presented at cort by hisfriend, Mr. Bulwig, and how the Quean had received 'em both, with adignity undigscribable; and how her blessid Majisty asked what was thebony fidy sale of the Cabinit Cyclopaedy, and how be (Doctor Larner)told her that, on his honner, it was under ten thowsnd. 

You may guess that the Doctor, when he made this speach, was pretty fargone. The fact is, that whether it was the coronation, or the goodnessof the wine (cappitle it is in our house, I can tell you), or the natralpropensaties of the gests assembled, which made them so igspeciallyjolly, I don't know; but they had kep up the meating pretty late, andour poar butler was quite tired with the perpechual baskits of clarritwhich he'd been called upon to bring up. So that about 11 o'clock, if Iwere to say they were merry, I should use a mild term; if I wer to saythey were intawsicated, I should use a nigspresshn more near to thetruth, but less rispeckful in one of my situashn. 

The cumpany reseaved this annountsmint with mute extonishment. 

"Pray, Doctor Larnder, " says a spiteful genlmn, willing to keep up thelittery conversation, "what is the Cabinet Cyclopaedia?"

"It's the littherary wontherr of the wurrld, " says he; "and sure yourlordship must have seen it; the latther numbers ispicially--cheap asdurrt, bound in gleezed calico, six shillings a vollum. The illusthriousneems of Walther Scott, Thomas Moore, Docther Southey, Sir JamesMackintosh, Docther Donovan, and meself, are to be found in the list ofconthributors. It's the Phaynix of Cyclopajies--a litherary Bacon. "

"A what?" says the genlmn nex to him. 

"A Bacon, shining in the darkness of our age; fild wid the pure endlambent flame of science, burning with the gorrgeous scintillations ofdivine litherature--a monumintum, in fact, are perinnius, bound in pinkcalico, six shillings a vollum. "

"This wigmawole, " said Mr. Bulwig (who seemed rather disgusted that hisfriend should take up so much of the convassation), "this wigmawoleis all vewy well; but it's cuwious that you don't wemember, inchawactewising the litewawy mewits of the vawious magazines, cwonicles, weviews, and encyclopaedias, the existence of a cwitical weview andlitewary chwonicle, which, though the aewa of its appeawance isdated only at a vewy few months pwevious to the pwesent pewiod, is, nevertheless, so wemarkable for its intwinsic mewits as to be wead, notin the metwopolis alone, but in the countwy--not in Fwance merely, but in the west of Euwope--whewever our pure Wenglish is spoken, itstwetches its peaceful sceptre--pewused in Amewica, fwom New York toNingawa--wepwinted in Canada, from Montweal to Towonto--and, as I amgwatified to hear fwom my fwend the governor of Cape Coast Castle, wegularly weceived in Afwica, and twanslated into the Mandingolanguage by the missionawies and the bushwangers. I need not say, gentlemen--sir--that is, Mr. Speaker--I mean, Sir John--that I alludeto the Litewary Chwonicle, of which I have the honor to be pwincipalcontwibutor. "

"Very true; my dear Mr. Bullwig, " says my master: "you and I beingWhigs, must of course stand by our own friends; and I will agree, without a moment's hesitation, that the Literary what-d'ye-call'em isthe prince of periodicals. "

"The pwince of pewiodicals?" says Bullwig; "my dear Sir John, it's theempewow of the pwess. "

"Soit, --let it be the emperor of the press, as you poetically call it:but, between ourselves, confess it, --Do not the Tory writers beat yourWhigs hollow? You talk about magazines. Look at--"

"Look at hwat?" shouts out Larder. "There's none, Sir Jan, compared toourrs. "

"Pardon me, I think that--"

"It is 'Bentley's Mislany' you mane?" says Ignatius, as sharp as aniddle. 

"Why, no; but--"

"O thin, it's Co'burn, sure! and that divvle Thayodor--a pretty paper, sir, but light--thrashy, milk-and-wathery--not sthrong, like theLitherary Chran--good luck to it. "

"Why, Doctor Lander, I was going to tell at once the name of theperiodical, it's FRASER'S MAGAZINE. "

"FRESER!" says the Doctor. "O thunder and turf!"

"FWASER!" says Bullwig. "O--ah--hum--haw--yes--no--why, --that isweally--no, weally, upon my weputation, I never before heard the nameof the pewiodical. By the by, Sir John, what wemarkable good clawet thisis; is it Lawose or Laff--?"

Laff, indeed! he cooden git beyond laff; and I'm blest if I could kipit neither, --for hearing him pretend ignurnts, and being behind theskreend, settlin somethink for the genlmn, I bust into such a raw oflaffing as never was igseeded. 

"Hullo!" says Bullwig, turning red. "Have I said anything impwobable, aw widiculous? for, weally, I never befaw wecollect to have heard insociety such a twemendous peal of cachinnation--that which the twagicbard who fought at Mawathon has called an anewithmon gelasma. "

"Why, be the holy piper, " says Larder, "I think you are dthrawing alittle on your imagination. Not read Fraser! Don't believe him, my lordduke; he reads every word of it, the rogue! The boys about that magazinebaste him as if he was a sack of oatmale. My reason for crying out, SirJan, was because you mintioned Fraser at all. Bullwig has everysyllable of it be heart--from the pailitix down to the 'YellowplushCorrespondence. '"

"Ha, ha!" says Bullwig, affecting to laff (you may be sure my earsprickt up when I heard the name of the "Yellowplush Correspondence"). "Ha, ha! why, to tell truth, I HAVE wead the cowespondence to which youallude: it's a gweat favowite at court. I was talking with Spwing Wiceand John Wussell about it the other day. "

"Well, and what do you think of it?" says Sir John, looking mitywaggish--for he knew it was me who roat it. 

"Why, weally and twuly, there's considewable cleverness about thecweature; but it's low, disgustingly low: it violates pwabability, andthe orthogwaphy is so carefully inaccuwate, that it requires a positivestudy to compwehend it. "

"Yes, faith, " says Larner; "the arthagraphy is detestible; it's as badfor a man to write bad spillin as it is for 'em to speak wid a brrogue. Iducation furst, and ganius afterwards. Your health, my lord, and goodluck to you. "

"Yaw wemark, " says Bullwig, "is vewy appwopwiate. You will wecollect, Sir John, in Hewodotus (as for you, Doctor, you know more about Iwishthan about Gweek), --you will wecollect, without doubt, a stowy nawwatedby that cwedulous though fascinating chwonicler, of a certain kind ofsheep which is known only in a certain distwict of Awabia, and of whichthe tail is so enormous, that it either dwaggles on the gwound, or isbound up by the shepherds of the country into a small wheelbawwow, orcart, which makes the chwonicler sneewingly wemark that thus 'the sheepof Awabia have their own chawiots. ' I have often thought, sir (thisclawet is weally nectaweous)--I have often, I say, thought that thewace of man may be compawed to these Awabian sheep--genius is our tail, education our wheelbawwow. Without art and education to pwop it, thisgenius dwops on the gwound, and is polluted by the mud, or injuredby the wocks upon the way: with the wheelbawwow it is stwengthened, incweased, and supported--a pwide to the owner, a blessing to mankind. "

"A very appropriate simile, " says Sir John; "and I am afraid that thegenius of our friend Yellowplush has need of some such support. "

"Apropos, " said Bullwig, "who IS Yellowplush? I was given to understandthat the name was only a fictitious one, and that the papers werewritten by the author of the 'Diary of a Physician;' if so, the man haswonderfully improved in style, and there is some hope of him. "

"Bah!" says the Duke of Doublejowl; "everybody knows it's Barnard, thecelebrated author of 'Sam Slick. '"

"Pardon, my dear duke, " says Lord Bagwig; "it's the authoress of 'HighLife, ' 'Almack's, ' and other fashionable novels. "

"Fiddlestick's end!" says Doctor Larner; "don't be blushing andpretinding to ask questions; don't we know you, Bullwig? It'syou yourself, you thief of the world: we smoked you from the verybeginning. "

Bullwig was about indignantly to reply, when Sir John interrupted them, and said, --"I must correct you all, gentlemen; Mr. Yellowplush is noother than Mr. Yellowplush: he gave you, my dear Bullwig, your lastglass of champagne at dinner, and is now an inmate of my house, and anornament of my kitchen!"

"Gad!" says Doublejowl, "let's have him up. "

"Hear, hear!" says Bagwig. 

"Ah, now, " says Larner, "your grace is not going to call up and talk toa footman, sure? Is it gintale?"

"To say the least of it, " says Bullwig, "the pwactice is iwwegular, andindecowous; and I weally don't see how the interview can be in any waypwofitable. "

But the vices of the company went against the two littery men, andeverybody excep them was for having up poor me. The bell was wrung;butler came. "Send up Charles, " says master; and Charles, who wasstanding behind the skreand, was persnly abliged to come in. 

"Charles, " says master, "I have been telling these gentlemen who is theauthor of the 'Yellowplush Correspondence' in Fraser's Magazine. "

"It's the best magazine in Europe, " says the duke. 

"And no mistake, " says my lord. 

"Hwhat!" says Larner; "and where's the Litherary Chran?"

I said myself nothink, but made a bough, and blusht likepickle-cabbitch. 

"Mr. Yellowplush, " says his grace, "will you, in the first place, drinka glass of wine?"

I boughed agin. 

"And what wine do you prefer, sir? humble port or imperial burgundy?"

"Why, your grace, " says I, "I know my place, and ain't above kitchinwines. I will take a glass of port, and drink it to the health of thishonrabble compny. "

When I'd swigged off the bumper, which his grace himself did me thehonor to pour out for me, there was a silints for a minnit; when mymaster said:--

"Charles Yellowplush, I have perused your memoirs in Fraser's Magazinewith so much curiosity, and have so high an opinion of your talents as awriter, that I really cannot keep you as a footman any longer, or allowyou to discharge duties for which you are now quite unfit. With all myadmiration for your talents, Mr. Yellowplush, I still am confident thatmany of your friends in the servants'-hall will clean my boots a greatdeal better than a gentleman of your genius can ever be expected todo--it is for this purpose I employ footmen, and not that they may bewriting articles in magazines. But--you need not look so red, my goodfellow, and had better take another glass of port--I don't wish to throwyou upon the wide world without the means of a livelihood, and have madeinterest for a little place which you will have under government, andwhich will give you an income of eighty pounds per annum; which you candouble, I presume, by your literary labors. "

"Sir, " says I, clasping my hands, and busting into tears, "do not--forheaven's sake, do not!--think of any such think, or drive me from yoursuvvice, because I have been fool enough to write in magaseens. Glansbut one moment at your honor's plate--every spoon is as bright as amirror; condysend to igsamine your shoes--your honor may see reflectedin them the fases of every one in the company. I blacked them shoes, Icleaned that there plate. If occasionally I've forgot the footman inthe litterary man, and committed to paper my remindicences of fashnabblelife, it was from a sincere desire to do good, and promote nollitch: andI appeal to your honor, --I lay my hand on my busm, and in the fase ofthis noble company beg you to say, When you rung your bell, who came toyou fust? When you stopt out at Brooke's till morning, who sat up foryou? When you was ill, who forgot the natral dignities of his station, and answered the two-pair bell? Oh, sir, " says I, "I know what's what;don't send me away. I know them littery chaps, and, beleave me, I'drather be a footman. The work's not so hard--the pay is better: thevittels incompyrably supearor. I have but to clean my things, and run myerrints, and you put clothes on my back, and meat in my mouth. Sir! Mr. Bullwig! an't I right? shall I quit MY station and sink--that is to say, rise--to YOURS?"

Bullwig was violently affected; a tear stood in his glistening i. "Yellowplush, " says he, seizing my hand, "you ARE right. Quit not yourpresent occupation; black boots, clean knives, wear plush, all yourlife, but don't turn literary man. Look at me. I am the first novelistin Europe. I have ranged with eagle wing over the wide regions ofliterature, and perched on every eminence in its turn. I have gazed witheagle eyes on the sun of philosophy, and fathomed the mysterious depthsof the human mind. All languages are familiar to me, all thoughts areknown to me, all men understood by me. I have gathered wisdom fromthe honeyed lips of Plato, as we wandered in the gardens ofAcadames--wisdom, too, from the mouth of Job Johnson, as we smokedour 'backy in Seven Dials. Such must be the studies, and such is themission, in this world, of the Poet-Philosopher. But the knowledgeis only emptiness; the initiation is but misery; the initiated, a manshunned and bann'd by his fellows. Oh, " said Bullwig, clasping hishands, and throwing his fine i's up to the chandelier, "the curse ofPwometheus descends upon his wace. Wath and punishment pursue themfrom genewation to genewation! Wo to genius, the heaven-scaler, thefire-stealer! Wo and thrice bitter desolation! Earth is the wock onwhich Zeus, wemorseless, stwetches his withing victim--men, the vulturesthat feed and fatten on him. Ai, ai! it is agony eternal--gwoaning andsolitawy despair! And you, Yellowplush, would penetwate these mystewies:you would waise the awful veil, and stand in the twemendous Pwesence. Beware; as you value your peace, beware! Withdwaw, wash Neophyte!For heaven's sake--O for heaven's sake!"--here he looked round withagony--"give me a glass of bwandy-and-water, for this clawet is beginningto disagwee with me. "

Bullwig having concluded this spitch, very much to his ownsattasfackshn, looked round to the compny for aplaws, and then swiggedoff the glass of brandy-and-water, giving a sollum sigh as he took thelast gulph; and then Doctor Ignatius, who longed for a chans, and, inorder to show his independence, began flatly contradicting his friend, addressed me, and the rest of the genlmn present, in the followingmanner:--

"Hark ye, " says he, "my gossoon, doan't be led asthray by the nonsinseof that divil of a Bullwig. He's jillous of ye, my bhoy: that's therale, undoubted thruth; and it's only to keep you out of litherarylife that he's palavering you in this way. I'll tell you what--Plush yeblackguard, --my honorable frind the mimber there has told me a hundertimes by the smallest computation, of his intense admiration of yourtalents, and the wonderful sthir they were making in the world. He can'tbear a rival. He's mad with envy, hatred, oncharatableness. Look athim, Plush, and look at me. My father was not a juke exactly, nor avena markis, and see, nevertheliss, to what a pitch I am come. I spare noixpinse; I'm the iditor of a cople of pariodicals; I dthrive about in mecarridge: I dine wid the lords of the land; and why--in the name of thepiper that pleed before Mosus, hwy? Because I'm a litherary man. BecauseI know how to play me cards. Because I'm Docther Larner, in fact, andmimber of every society in and out of Europe. I might have remainedall my life in Thrinity Colledge, and never made such an incom as thatoffered you by Sir Jan; but I came to London--to London, my boy, and nowsee! Look again at me friend Bullwig. He IS a gentleman, to be sure, andbad luck to 'im, say I; and what has been the result of his litherarylabor? I'll tell you what; and I'll tell this gintale society, by theshade of Saint Patrick, they're going to make him a BARINET. "

"A BARNET, Doctor!" says I; "you don't mean to say they're going to makehim a barnet!"

"As sure as I've made meself a docthor, " says Larner. 

"What, a baronet, like Sir John?"

"The divle a bit else. "

"And pray what for?"

"What faw?" says Bullwig. "Ask the histowy of litwatuwe what faw? AskColburn, ask Bentley, ask Saunders and Otley, ask the gweat Bwitishnation, what faw? The blood in my veins comes puwified thwough tenthousand years of chivalwous ancestwy; but that is neither herenor there: my political principles--the equal wights which I haveadvocated--the gweat cause of fweedom that I have celebwated, are knownto all. But this, I confess, has nothing to do with the question. No, the question is this--on the thwone of litewature I stand unwivalled, pwe-eminent; and the Bwitish government, honowing genius in me, compliments the Bwitish nation by lifting into the bosom of theheweditawy nobility, the most gifted member of the democwacy. " (Thehonrabble genlm here sunk down amidst repeated cheers. )

"Sir John, " says I, "and my lord duke, the words of my rivrint frendIgnatius, and the remarks of the honrabble genlmn who has just satedown, have made me change the detummination which I had the honor ofigspressing just now. 

"I igsept the eighty pound a year; knowing that I shall ave plenty oftime for pursuing my littery career, and hoping some day to set on thatsame bentch of barranites, which is deckarated by the presnts of myhonrabble friend. 

"Why shooden I? It's trew I ain't done anythink as YET to deservesuch an honor; and it's very probable that I never shall. Butwhat then?--quaw dong, as our friends say? I'd much rayther have acoat-of-arms than a coat of livry. I'd much rayther have my blud-redhand spralink in the middle of a shield, than underneath a tea-tray. Abarranit I will be; and, in consiquints, must cease to be a footmin. 

"As to my politticle princepills, these, I confess, ain't settled:they are, I know, necessary; but they ain't necessary UNTIL ASKT FOR;besides, I reglar read the Sattarist newspaper, and so ignirince on thispint would be inigscusable. 

"But if one man can git to be a doctor, and another a barranit, andanother a capting in the navy, and another a countess, and another thewife of a governor of the Cape of Good Hope, I begin to perseave thatthe littery trade ain't such a very bad un; igspecially if you're up tosnough, and know what's o'clock. I'll learn to make myself usefle, inthe fust place; then I'll larn to spell; and, I trust, by reading thenovvles of the honrabble member, and the scientafick treatiseses of thereverend doctor, I may find the secrit of suxess, and git a litell formy own share. I've sevral frends in the press, having paid for many ofthose chaps' drink, and given them other treets; and so I think I've gotall the emilents of suxess; therefore, I am detummined, as I said, toigsept your kind offer, and beg to withdraw the wuds which I made yousof when I refyoused your hoxpatable offer. I must, however--"

"I wish you'd withdraw yourself, " said Sir John, bursting into a mostigstrorinary rage, "and not interrupt the company with your infernaltalk! Go down, and get us coffee: and, hark ye! hold your impertinenttongue, or I'll break every bone in your body. You shall have the placeas I said; and while you're in my service, you shall be my servant; butyou don't stay in my service after to-morrow. Go down stairs, sir; anddon't stand staring here!"

 . . . . . . 

In this abrupt way, my evening ended; it's with a melancholy regret thatI think what came of it. I don't wear plush any more. I am an altered, awiser, and, I trust, a better man. 

I'm about a novvle (having made great progriss in spelling), in thestyle of my friend Bullwig; and preparing for publigation, in theDoctor's Cyclopedear, "The Lives of Eminent British and ForingWosherwomen. "

SKIMMINGS FROM "THE DAIRY OF GEORGE IV. "

CHARLES YELLOWPLUSH, ESQ, TO OLIVER YORKE, ESQ. *

DEAR WHY, --Takin advantage of the Crismiss holydays, Sir John and me(who is a member of parlyment) had gone down to our place in Yorkshirefor six wicks, to shoot grows and woodcox, and enjoy old Englishhospitalaty. This ugly Canady bisniss unluckaly put an end to oursports in the country, and brot us up to Buckly Square as fast as fourposterses could gallip. When there, I found your parcel, containing thetwo vollumes of a new book; which, as I have been away from the literaryworld, and emplied solely in athlatic exorcises, have been layingneglected in my pantry, among my knife-cloaths, and dekanters, andblacking-bottles, and bed-room candles, and things. 

* These Memoirs were originally published in Fraser's Magazine, and itmay be stated for the benefit of the unlearned in such matters, that"Oliver Yorke" is the assumed name of the editor of that periodical. 

This will, I'm sure, account for my delay in notussing the work. I seesefral of the papers and magazeens have been befoarhand with me, andhave given their apinions concerning it: specially the Quotly Revew, which has most mussilessly cut to peases the author of this Dairy of theTimes of George IV. *

* Diary illustrative of the Times of George the Fourth, interspersedwith Original Letters from the late Queen Caroline, and from variousother distinguished Persons. 

 "Tot ou tard, tout se scait. "--MAINTENON. 

In 2 vols. London, 1838. Henry Colburn. 

That it's a woman who wrote it is evydent from the style of the writing, as well as from certain proofs in the book itself. Most suttnly a femailwrote this Dairy; but who this Dairy-maid may be, I, in coarse, can'tconjecter: and indeed, common galliantry forbids me to ask. I can onlyjudge of the book itself; which, it appears to me, is clearly trenchingupon my ground and favrite subjicks, viz. Fashnabble life, as igsibitedin the houses of the nobility, gentry, and rile fammly. 

But I bare no mallis--infamation is infamation, and it doesn't matterwhere the infamy comes from; and whether the Dairy be from thatdistinguished pen to which it is ornarily attributed--whether, I say, it comes from a lady of honor to the late quean, or a scullion to thatdiffunct majisty, no matter: all we ask is nollidge; never mind how wehave it. Nollidge, as our cook says, is like trikel-possit--it's alwaysgood, though you was to drink it out of an old shoo. 

Well, then, although this Dairy is likely searusly to injur my pussonalintrests, by fourstalling a deal of what I had to say in my privatememoars--though many, many guineas, is taken from my pockit, bycuttin short the tail of my narratif--though much that I had to say insouperior languidge, greased with all the ellygance of my orytory, thebenefick of my classcle reading, the chawms of my agreble wit, is thusabruply brot befor the world by an inferior genus, neither knowing norwriting English; yet I say, that nevertheless I must say, what I ampuffickly prepaired to say, to gainsay which no man can say a word--yetI say, that I say I consider this publication welkom. Far from viewingit with enfy, I greet it with applaws; because it increases that mostexlent specious of nollidge, I mean "FASHNABBLE NOLLIDGE:" compayredto witch all other nollidge is nonsince--a bag of goold to a pare ofsnuffers. 

Could Lord Broom, on the Canady question, say moar? or say what he hadtu say better? We are marters, both of us, to prinsple; and every bodywho knows eather knows that we would sacrafice anythink rather thanthat. Fashion is the goddiss I adoar. This delightful work is an offringon her srine; and as sich all her wushippers are bound to hail it. Here is not a question of trumpry lords and honrabbles, generals andbarronites, but the crown itself, and the king and queen's actions;witch may be considered as the crown jewels. Here's princes, andgrand-dukes and airsparent, and heaven knows what; all with blood-royalin their veins, and their names mentioned in the very fust page of thepeeridge. In this book you become so intmate with the Prince of Wales, that you may follow him, if you please, to his marridge-bed: or, ifyou prefer the Princiss Charlotte, you may have with her an hour'stator-tator. *

* Our estimable correspondent means, we presume, tete-a-tete. --O. Y. 

Now, though most of the remarkable extrax from this book have been givenalready (the cream of the Dairy, as I wittily say, ) I shall troubleyou, nevertheless, with a few; partly because they can't be repeatedtoo often, and because the toan of obsyvation with which they have beengenrally received by the press, is not igsackly such as I think theymerit. How, indeed, can these common magaseen and newspaper pipple knowanythink of fashnabble life, let alone ryal?

Conseaving, then, that the publication of the Dairy has done reel goodon this scoar, and may probly do a deal moor, I shall look through it, for the porpus of selecting the most ellygant passidges, and which Ithink may be peculiarly adapted to the reader's benefick. 

For you see, my dear Mr. Yorke, that in the fust place, that this isno common catchpny book, like that of most authors and authoresses, whowrite for the base looker of gain. Heaven bless you! the Dairy-maid isabove anything musnary. She is a woman of rank, and no mistake; and isas much above doin a common or vulgar action as I am superaor to takingbeer after dinner with my cheese. She proves that most satisfackarily, as we see in the following passidge:--

"Her royal highness came to me, and having spoken a few phraseson different subjects, produced all the papers she wishes to havepublished: her whole correspondence with the prince relative to LadyJ---'s dismissal; his subsequent neglect of the princess; and, finally, the acquittal of her supposed guilt, signed by the Duke of Portland, &c. , at the time of the secret inquiry: when, if proof could havebeen brought against her, it certainly would have been done; and whichacquittal, to the disgrace of all parties concerned, as well as to thejustice of the nation in general, was not made public at the time. Acommon criminal is publicly condemned or acquitted. Her royal highnesscommanded me to have these letters published forthwith, saying, 'You maysell them for a great sum. ' At first (for she had spoken to mebefore concerning this business), I thought of availing myself of theopportunity; but upon second thoughts, I turned from this idea withdetestation: for, if I do wrong by obeying her wishes and endeavoringto serve her, I will do so at least from good and disinterested motives, not from any sordid views. The princess commands me, and I will obeyher, whatever may be the issue; but not for fare or fee. I own Itremble, not so much for myself, as for the idea that she is not takingthe best and most dignified way of having these papers published. Whymake a secret of it at all? If wrong, it should not be done; if rightit should be done openly, and in the face of her enemies. In her royalhighness's case, as in that of wronged princes in general, why dothey shrink from straightforward dealings, and rather have recourse tocrooked policy? I wish, in this particular instance, I could makeher royal highness feel thus: but she is naturally indignant at beingfalsely accused, and will not condescend to an avowed explanation. "

Can anythink be more just and honrabble than this? The Dairy-lady isquite fair and abovebored. A clear stage, says she, and no favior! "Iwon't do behind my back what I am ashamed of before my face: not I!" Nomore she does; for you see that, though she was offered this manyscripby the princess FOR NOTHINK, though she knew that she could actially getfor it a large sum of money, she was above it, like an honest, noble, grateful, fashnabble woman, as she was. She aboars secrecy, and neverwill have recors to disguise or crookid polacy. This ought to be anansure to them RADICLE SNEERERS, who pretend that they are the equalsof fashnabble pepple; wheras it's a well-known fact, that the vulgarroagues have no notion of honor. 

And after this positif declaration, which reflex honor on her ladyship(long life to her! I've often waited behind her chair!)--after thispositif declaration, that, even for the porpus of DEFENDING hermissis, she was so hi-minded as to refuse anythink like a peculiarlyconsideration, it is actially asserted in the public prints by abooxeller, that he has given her A THOUSAND POUND for the Dairy. Athousand pound! nonsince!--it's a phigment! a base lible! This womantake a thousand pound, in a matter where her dear mistriss, friend, andbenyfactriss was concerned! Never! A thousand baggonits would be moreprefrabble to a woman of her xqizzit feelins and fashion. 

But to proseed. It's been objected to me, when I wrote some of myexpearunces in fashnabble life, that my languidge was occasionallyvulgar, and not such as is genrally used in those exqizzit famlies whichI frequent. Now, I'll lay a wager that there is in this book, wrote asall the world knows, by a rele lady, and speakin of kings and queensas if they were as common as sand-boys--there is in this book morewulgarity than ever I displayed, more nastiness than ever I would dareTO THINK ON, and more bad grammar than ever I wrote since I was a boy atschool. As for authografy, evry genlmn has his own: never mind spellin, I say, so long as the sence is right. 

Let me here quot a letter from a corryspondent of this charming lady ofhonor; and a very nice corryspondent he is, too, without any mistake:

"Lady O---, poor Lady O---! knows the rules of prudence, I fear me, asimperfectly as she doth those of the Greek and Latin Grammars: or shehath let her brother, who is a sad swine, become master of her secrets, and then contrived to quarrel with him. You would see the outline of themelange in the newspapers; but not the report that Mr. S--- is about topublish a pamphlet, as an addition to the Harleian Tracts, setting forththe amatory adventures of his sister. We shall break our necks in hasteto buy it, of course crying 'Shameful' all the while; and it is saidthat Lady O--- is to be cut, which I cannot entirely believe. Let hertell two or three old women about town that they are young and handsome, and give some well-timed parties, and she may still keep the societywhich she hath been used to. The times are not so hard as they oncewere, when a woman could not construe Magna Charta with anything likeimpunity. People were full as gallant many years ago. But the days aregone by wherein my lord-protector of the commonwealth of England waswont to go a lovemaking to Mrs. Fleetwood, with the Bible under his arm. 

"And so Miss Jacky Gordon is really clothed with a husband at last, andMiss Laura Manners left without a mate! She and Lord Stair should marryand have children in mere revenge. As to Miss Gordon, she's a Venus wellsuited for such a Vulcan, --whom nothing but money and a title couldhave rendered tolerable, even to a kitchen wench. It is said that thematrimonial correspondence between this couple is to be published, fullof sad scandalous relations, of which you may be sure scarcely a wordis true. In former times, the Duchess of St. A---s made use of theseelegant epistles in order to intimidate Lady Johnstone: but that rusewould not avail; so in spite, they are to be printed. What a cargoof amiable creatures! Yet will some people scarcely believe in theexistence of Pandemonium. 

"Tuesday Morning. --You are perfectly right respecting the hot roomshere, which we all cry out against, and all find very comfortable--muchmore so than the cold sands and bleak neighborhood of the sea; whichlooks vastly well in one of Vander Velde's pictures hung upon crimsondamask, but hideous and shocking in reality. H--- and his 'elle'(talking of parties) were last night at Cholmondeley House, but seemnot to ripen in their love. He is certainly good-humored, and I believe, good-hearted, so deserves a good wife; but his cara seems a genuineLondon miss made up of many affectations. Will she form a comfortablehelpmate? For me, I like not her origin, and deem many strange things torun in blood, besides madness and the Hanoverian evil. 

"Thursday. --I verily do believe that I shall never get to the end ofthis small sheet of paper, so many unheard of interruptions have I had;and now I have been to Vauxhall, and caught the toothache. I was of LadyE. B---m and H---'s party: very dull--the Lady giving us all a supperafter our promenade--

 'Much ado was there, God wot She would love, but he would not. '

He ate a great deal of ice, although he did not seem to require it: andshe 'faisoit les yeux doux' enough not only to have melted all the icewhich he swallowed, but his own hard heart into the bargain. The thingwill not do. In the meantime, Miss Long hath become quite cruel toWellesley Pole, and divides her favor equally between Lords Killeen andKilworth, two as simple Irishmen as ever gave birth to a bull. I wishto Hymen that she were fairly married, for all this pother gives one adisgusting picture of human nature. "

A disgusting pictur of human nature, indeed--and isn't he who moralizesabout it, and she to whom he writes, a couple of pretty heads inthe same piece? Which, Mr. Yorke, is the wust, the scandle or thescandle-mongers? See what it is to be a moral man of fashn. Fust, he scrapes togither all the bad stoaries about all the people ofhis acquentance--he goes to a ball, and laffs or snears at everybodythere--he is asked to a dinner, and brings away, along with meat andwine to his heart's content, a sour stomick filled with nasty stories ofall the people present there. He has such a squeamish appytite, that allthe world seems to DISAGREE with him. And what has he got to say to hisdelicate female frend? Why that--

Fust. Mr. S. Is going to publish indescent stoaries about Lady O---, hissister, which everybody's goin to by. 

Nex. That Miss Gordon is going to be cloathed with an usband; and thatall their matrimonial corryspondins is to be published too. 

3. That Lord H. Is going to be married; but there's some thing rong inhis wife's blood. 

4. Miss Long has cut Mr. Wellesley, and is gone after two Irish lords. 

Wooden you phancy, now, that the author of such a letter, instead ofwritin about pipple of tip-top qualaty, was describin Vinegar Yard?Would you beleave that the lady he was a-ritin to was a chased, modistlady of honor, and mother of a famly? O trumpery! O morris! as Homersays: this is a higeous pictur of manners, such as I weap to think of, as evry morl man must weap. 

The above is one pritty pictur of mearly fashnabble life: what followsis about families even higher situated than the most fashnabble. Herewe have the princessregient, her daughter the Princess Sharlot, her grandmamma the old quean, and her madjisty's daughters the twoprincesses. If this is not high life, I don't know where it is to befound; and it's pleasing to see what affeckshn and harmny rains in suchan exolted spear. 

"Sunday 24th. --Yesterday, the princess went to meet the PrincessCharlotte at Kensington. Lady ---- told me that, when the latterarrived, she rushed up to her mother, and said, 'For God's sake, becivil to her, ' meaning the Duchess of Leeds, who followed her. Lady---- said she felt sorry for the latter; but when the Princess of Walestalked to her, she soon became so free and easy, that one could nothave any FEELING about her FEELINGS. Princess Charlotte, I was told, waslooking handsome, very pale, but her head more becomingly dressed, --thatis to say, less dressed than usual. Her figure is of that full roundshape which is now in its prime; but she disfigures herself by wearingher bodice so short, that she literally has no waist. Her feet are verypretty; and so are her hands and arms, and her ears, and the shape ofher head. Her countenance is expressive, when she allows her passions toplay upon it; and I never saw any face, with so little shade, express somany powerful and varied emotions. Lady ---- told me that the PrincessCharlotte talked to her about her situation, and said, in a veryquiet, but determined way, she WOULD NOT BEAR IT, and that as soon asparliament met, she intended to come to Warwick House, and remain there;that she was also determined not to consider the Duchess of Leeds asher GOVERNESS but only as her FIRST LADY. She made many observationson other persons and subjects; and appears to be very quick, verypenetrating, but imperious and wilful. There is a tone of romance, too, in her character, which will only serve to mislead her. 

"She told her mother that there had been a great battle at Windsorbetween the queen and the prince, the former refusing to give upMiss Knight from her own person to attend on Princess Charlotte assub-governess. But the prince-regent had gone to Windsor himself, andinsisted on her doing so; and the 'old Beguin' was forced to submit, but has been ill ever since: and Sir Henry Halford declared it was acomplete breaking up of her constitution--to the great delight of thetwo princesses, who were talking about this affair. Miss Knight was thevery person they wished to have; they think they can do as they likewith her. It has been ordered that the Princess Charlotte should not seeher mother alone for a single moment; but the latter went into her room, stuffed a pair of large shoes full of papers, and having given them toher daughter, she went home. Lady ---- told me everything was writtendown and sent to Mr. Brougham NEXT DAY. "

See what discord will creap even into the best regulated famlies. Hereare six of 'em--viz. , the quean and her two daughters, her son, and hiswife and daughter; and the manner in which they hate one another is acompleat puzzle. 

 {his mother. The Prince hates. .. {his wife. {his daughter. 

 Princess Charlotte hates her father. 

 Princess of Wales hates her husband. 

The old quean, by their squobbles, is on the pint of death; and her twojewtiful daughters are delighted at the news. What a happy, fashnabble, Christian famly! O Mr. Yorke, Mr. Yorke, if this is the way in thedrawin-rooms, I'm quite content to live below, in pease and charaty withall men; writin, as I am now, in my pantry, or els havin a quiet game atcards in the servants-all. With US there's no bitter, wicked, quarlingof this sort. WE don't hate our children, or bully our mothers, or wish'em ded when they're sick, as this Dairywoman says kings and queensdo. When we're writing to our friends or sweethearts, WE don't fillour letters with nasty stoaries, takin away the carricter of ourfellow-servants, as this maid of honor's amusin' moral frend does. But, in coarse, it's not for us to judge of our betters;--these great peopleare a supeerur race, and we can't comprehend their ways. 

Do you recklect--it's twenty years ago now--how a bewtiffle princessdied in givin buth to a poar baby, and how the whole nation of Henglandwep, as though it was one man, over that sweet woman and child, in whichwere sentered the hopes of every one of us, and of which each was asproud as of his own wife or infnt? Do you recklect how pore fellowsspent their last shillin to buy a black crape for their hats, andclergymen cried in the pulpit, and the whole country through was nobetter than a great dismal funeral? Do you recklet, Mr. Yorke, whowas the person that we all took on so about? We called her the PrincisSharlot of Wales; and we valyoud a single drop of her blood more thanthe whole heartless body of her father. Well, we looked up to her as akind of saint or angle, and blest God (such foolish loyal English pippleas we ware in those days) who had sent this sweet lady to rule over us. But heaven bless you! it was only souperstition. She was no better thanshe should be, as it turns out--or at least the Dairy-maid says so. Nobetter?--if my daughters or yours was 1/2 so bad, we'd as leaf be deadourselves, and they hanged. But listen to this pritty charritable story, and a truce to reflexshuns:--

"Sunday, January, 9, 1814. --Yesterday, according to appointment, I wentto Princess Charlotte. Found at Warwick House the harp-player, Dizzi;was asked to remain and listen to his performance, but was talked toduring the whole time, which completely prevented all possibility oflistening to the music. The Duchess of Leeds and her daughter were inthe room, but left it soon. Next arrived Miss Knight, who remained allthe time I was there. Princess Charlotte was very gracious--showed meall her bonny dyes, as B---would have called them--pictures, and cases, and jewels, &c. She talked in a very desultory way, and it would bedifficult to say of what. She observed her mother was in very lowspirits. I asked her how she supposed she could be otherwise? ThisQUESTIONING answer saves a great deal of trouble, and serves twopurposes--i. E. Avoids committing oneself, or giving offence by silence. There was hung in the apartment one portrait, amongst others, thatvery much resembled the Duke of D---. I asked Miss Knight whom itrepresented. She said that was not known; it had been supposed alikeness of the Pretender, when young. This answer suited my thoughts socomically I could have laughed, if one ever did at courts anything butthe contrary of what one was inclined to do. 

"Princess Charlotte has a very great variety of expression in hercountenance--a play of features, and a force of muscle, rarely seen inconnection with such soft and shadeless coloring. Her hands and armsare beautiful; but I think her figure is already gone, and will soon beprecisely like her mother's: in short it is the very picture of her, andNOT IN MINIATURE. I could not help analyzing my own sensations duringthe time I was with her, and thought more of them than I did of her. Whywas I at all flattered, at all more amused, at all more supple to thisyoung princess, than to her who is only the same sort of person setin the shade of circumstances and of years? It is that youth, and theapproach of power, and the latent views of self-interest, sway the heartand dazzle the understanding. If this is so with a heart not, I trust, corrupt, and a head not particularly formed for interested calculations, what effect must not the same causes produce on the generality ofmankind?

"In the course of the conversation, the Princess Charlotte contrived toedge in a good deal of tum-de-dy, and would, if I had entered intothe thing, have gone on with it, while looking at a little picture ofherself, which had about thirty or forty different dresses to put overit, done on isinglass, and which allowed the general coloring of thepicture to be seen through its transparency. It was, I thought, a prettyenough conceit, though rather like dressing up a doll. 'Ah!, ' said MissKnight, 'I am not content though, madame--for I yet should have likedone more dress--that of the favorite Sultana. '

"'No, no!' said the princess, 'I never was a favorite, and never can beone, '--looking at a picture which she said was her father's, but whichI do not believe was done for the regent any more than for me, butrepresented a young man in a hussar's dress--probably a former favorite. 

"The Princess Charlotte seemed much hurt at the little notice that wastaken of her birthday. After keeping me for two hours and a half shedismissed me; and I am sure I could not say what she said, except thatit was an olio of decousus and heterogeneous things, partaking of thecharacteristics of her mother, grafted on a younger scion. I dinedtete-a-tete with my dear old aunt: hers is always a sweet and soothingsociety to me. "

There's a pleasing, lady-like, moral extract for you! An innocent youngthing of fifteen has picturs of TWO lovers in her room, and expex agood number more. This dellygate young creature EDGES in a good deal ofTUMDEDY (I can't find it in Johnson's Dixonary), and would have GONE ONWITH THE THING (ellygence of languidge), if the dairy-lady would havelet her. 

Now, to tell you the truth, Mr. Yorke, I doan't beleave a singlesyllible of this story. This lady of honner says, in the fust place, that the princess would have talked a good deal of TUMDEDY: which means, I suppose, indeasnsy, if she, the lady of honner WOULD HAVE LET HER. This IS a good one! Why, she lets every body else talk tumdedy to theirhearts' content; she lets her friends WRITE tumdedy, and, after keepingit for a quarter of a sentry, she PRINTS it. Why then, be so squeamishabout HEARING a little! And, then, there's the stoary of the twoportricks. This woman has the honner to be received in the frendlyestmanner by a British princess; and what does the grateful loyal creaturedo? 2 picturs of the princess's relations are hanging in her room, andthe Dairy-woman swears away the poor young princess's carrickter, byswearing they are picturs of her LOVERS. For shame, oh, for shame! youslanderin backbitin dairy-woman you! If you told all them things toyour "dear old aunt, " on going to dine with her, you must have had very"sweet and soothing society" indeed. 

I had marked out many more extrax, which I intended to write about; butI think I have said enough about this Dairy: in fack, the butler, andthe gals in the servants'-hall are not well pleased that I should goon reading this naughty book; so we'll have no more of it, only onepassidge about Pollytics, witch is sertnly quite new:--

"No one was so likely to be able to defeat Bonaparte as the CrownPrince, from the intimate knowledge he possessed of his character. Bernadotte was also instigated against Bonaparte by one who not onlyowed him a personal hatred, but who possessed a mind equal to his, andwho gave the Crown Prince both information and advice how to act. Thiswas no less a person than Madame de Stael. It was not, as some haveasserted, THAT SHE WAS IN LOVE WITH BERNADOTTE; for, at the time oftheir intimacy, MADAME DE STAEL WAS IN LOVE WITH ROCCA. But she used herinfluence (which was not small) with the Crown Prince, to make himfight against Bonaparte, and to her wisdom may be attributed much of thesuccess which accompanied his attack upon him. Bernadotte has raised theflame of liberty, which seems fortunately to blaze all around. May itliberate Europe; and from the ashes of the laurel may olive branchesspring up, and overshadow the earth!"

There's a discuvery! that the overthrow of Boneypart is owing to MADAMEDE STAEL! What nonsince for Colonel Southey or Doctor Napier to writehistories of the war with that Capsican hupstart and murderer, when herewe have the whole affair explaned by the lady of honor!

"Sunday, April 10, 1814. --The incidents which take place every hour aremiraculous. Bonaparte is deposed, but alive; subdued, but allowed tochoose his place of residence. The island of Elba is the spot he hasselected for his ignominious retreat. France is holding forth repentantarms to her banished sovereign. The Poissardes who dragged Louis XVI. To the scaffold are presenting flowers to the Emperor of Russia, the restorer of their legitimate king! What a stupendous field forphilosophy to expatiate in! What an endless material for thought! Whathumiliation to the pride of mere human greatness! How are the mightyfallen! Of all that was great in Napoleon, what remains? Despoiledof his usurped power, he sinks to insignificance. There was nomoral greatness in the man. The meteor dazzled, scorched, is putout, --utterly, and for ever. But the power which rests in those who havedelivered the nations from bondage, is a power that is delegated to themfrom heaven; and the manner in which they have used it is a guaranteefor its continuance. The Duke of Wellington has gained laurels unstainedby any useless flow of blood. He has done more than conquer others--hehas conquered himself: and in the midst of the blaze and flush ofvictory, surrounded by the homage of nations, he has not been betrayedinto the commission of any act of cruelty or wanton offence. He was ascool and self-possessed under the blaze and dazzle of fame as a commonman would be under the shade of his garden-tree, or by the hearth of hishome. But the tyrant who kept Europe in awe is now a pitiable object forscorn to point the finger of derision at: and humanity shudders as itremembers the scourge with which this man's ambition was permitted todevastate every home tie, and every heartfelt joy. "

And now, after this sublime passidge, as full of awfle reflections andpious sentyments as those of Mrs. Cole in the play, I shall only quotone little extrak more:--

"All goes gloomily with the poor princess. Lady Charlotte Campbell toldme she regrets not seeing all these curious personages; but she says, the more the princess is forsaken, the more happy she is at havingoffered to attend her at this time. THIS IS VERY AMIABLE IN HER, andcannot fail to be gratifying to the princess. "

So it is--wery amiable, wery kind and considerate in her, indeed. PoorPrincess! how lucky you was to find a frend who loved you for your ownsake, and when all the rest of the wuld turned its back kep steady toyou. As for believing that Lady Sharlot had any hand in this book, *heaven forbid! she is all gratitude, pure gratitude, depend upon it. SHEwould not go for to blacken her old frend and patron's carrickter, afterhaving been so outrageously faithful to her; SHE wouldn't do it, at noprice, depend upon it. How sorry she must be that others an't quiteso squemish, and show up in this indesent way the follies of her kind, genrus, foolish bennyfactris!

* The "authorized" announcement, in the John Bull newspaper, sets thisquestion at rest. It is declared that her ladyship is not the writer ofthe Diary. --O. Y. 

EPISTLES TO THE LITERATI. 

CH-S Y-LL-WPL-SH, ESQ. , TO SIR EDWARD LYTTON BULWER, BT. 

JOHN THOMAS SMITH, ESQ. , TO C--S Y--H, ESQ. 

NOTUS. 

The suckmstansies of the following harticle are as follos:--Me andmy friend, the sellabrated Mr. Smith, reckonized each other in theHaymarket Theatre, during the performints of the new play. I was settnin the gallery, and sung out to him (he was in the pit), to jine usafter the play, over a glass of bear and a cold hoyster, in my pantry, the family being out. 

Smith came as appinted. We descorsed on the subjick of the comady;and, after sefral glases, we each of us agreed to write a letter to theother, giving our notiums of the pease. Paper was brought that momint;and Smith writing his harticle across the knife-bord, I dasht off mineon the dresser. 

Our agreement was, that I (being remarkabble for my style of riting)should cretasize the languidge, whilst he should take up with the plotof the play; and the candied reader will parding me for having holteredthe original address of my letter, and directed it to Sir Edwardhimself; and for having incopperated Smith's remarks in the midst of myown:--

MAYFAIR, Nov. 30, 1839. Midnite. 

HONRABBLE BARNET!--Retired from the littery world a year or moar, Ididn't think anythink would injuice me to come forrards again: for Iwas content with my share of reputation, and propoas'd to add nothink tothose immortial wux which have rendered this Magaseen so sallybrated. 

Shall I tell you the reazn of my re-appearants?--a desire for thebenefick of my fellow-creatures? Fiddlestick! A mighty truth with whichmy busm labored, and which I must bring forth or die? Nonsince--stuff:money's the secret, my dear Barnet, --money--l'argong, gelt, spicunia. Here's quarter-day coming, and I'm blest if I can pay my landlud, unlessI can ad hartificially to my inkum. 

This is, however, betwigst you and me. There's no need to blacard thestreets with it, or to tell the British public that Fitzroy Y-ll-wpl-shis short of money, or that the sallybrated hauthor of the Y--- Papers isin peskewniary difficklties, or is fiteagued by his superhuman litterylabors, or by his famly suckmstansies, or by any other pusnal matter:my maxim, dear B, is on these pints to be as quiet as posbile. Whatthe juice does the public care for you or me? Why must we always, inprefizzes and what not, be a-talking about ourselves and our igstrodnarymerrats, woas, and injaries? It is on this subjick that I porpies, mydear Barnet, to speak to you in a frendly way; and praps you'll find myadvise tolrabbly holesum. 

Well, then, --if you care about the apinions, fur good or evil, of uspoor suvvants, I tell you, in the most candied way, I like you, Barnet. I've had my fling at you in my day (for, entry nou, that last stoary Iroat about you and Larnder was as big a bownsir as ever was)--I've hadmy fling at you; but I like you. One may objeck to an immense deal ofyour writings, which, betwigst you and me, contain more sham scentiment, sham morallaty, sham poatry, than you'd like to own; but, in spite ofthis, there's the STUFF in you: you've a kind and loyal heart in you, Barnet--a trifle deboshed, perhaps; a kean i, igspecially for what'scomic (as for your tradgady, it's mighty flatchulent), and a readyplesnt pen. The man who says you are an As is an As himself. Don'tbelieve him, Barnet! not that I suppose you wil, --for, if I've formeda correck apinion of you from your wucks, you think your small-beear asgood as most men's: every man does, --and why not? We brew, and we loveour own tap--amen; but the pint betwigst us, is this stewpid, absudd wayof crying out, because the public don't like it too. Why shood they, my dear Barnet? You may vow that they are fools; or that the critix areyour enemies; or that the wuld should judge your poams by your critticlerules, and not their own: you may beat your breast, and vow you are amarter, and you won't mend the matter. Take heart, man! you're not somisrabble after all: your spirits need not be so VERY cast down; you arenot so VERY badly paid. I'd lay a wager that you make, with one thingor another--plays, novvles, pamphlicks, and little odd jobbs here andthere--your three thowsnd a year. There's many a man, dear Bullwig thatworks for less, and lives content. Why shouldn't you? Three thowsnd ayear is no such bad thing, --let alone the barnetcy: it must be a greatcomfort to have that bloody hand in your skitching. 

But don't you sea, that in a wuld naturally envius, wickid, and fondof a joak, this very barnetcy, these very cumplaints, --this ceaselessgroning, and moning, and wining of yours, is igsackly the thing whichmakes people laff and snear more? If you were ever at a great school, you must recklect who was the boy most bullid, and buffited, andpurshewd--he who minded it most. He who could take a basting got butfew; he who rord and wep because the knotty boys called him nicknames, was nicknamed wuss and wuss. I recklect there was at our school, inSmithfield, a chap of this milksop, spoony sort, who appeared among theromping, ragged fellers in a fine flanning dressing-gownd, that his mamahad given him. That pore boy was beaten in a way that his dear ma andaunts didn't know him; his fine flanning dressing-gownd was torn all toribbings, and he got no pease in the school ever after, but was abligedto be taken to some other saminary, where, I make no doubt, he was paidoff igsactly in the same way. 

Do you take the halligory, my dear Barnet? Mutayto nominy--you know whatI mean. You are the boy, and your barnetcy is the dressing-gownd. Youdress yourself out finer than other chaps and they all begin to saultand hustle you; it's human nature, Barnet. You show weakness, thinkof your dear ma, mayhap, and begin to cry: it's all over with you;the whole school is at you--upper boys and under, big and little; thedirtiest little fag in the place will pipe out blaggerd names at you, and takes his pewny tug at your tail. 

The only way to avoid such consperracies is to put a pair of stowtshoalders forrards, and bust through the crowd of raggymuffins. A goodbold fellow dubls his fistt, and cries, "Wha dares meddle wi' me?" WhenScott got HIS barnetcy, for instans, did any one of us cry out? No, bythe laws, he was our master; and wo betide the chap that said neigh tohim! But there's barnets and barnets. Do you recklect that fine chapterin "Squintin Durward, " about the too fellos and cups, at the siege ofthe bishop's castle? One of them was a brave warner, and kep HIS cup;they strangled the other chap--strangled him, and laffed at him too. 

With respeck, then, to the barnetcy pint, this is my advice: brazen itout. Us littery men I take to be like a pack of schoolboys--childish, greedy, envius, holding by our friends, and always ready to fight. Whatmust be a man's conduck among such? He must either take no notis, andpass on myjastick, or else turn round and pummle soundly--one, two, right and left, ding dong over the face and eyes; above all, neveracknowledge that he is hurt. Years ago, for instans (we've no ill-blood, but only mention this by way of igsample), you began a sparring withthis Magaseen. Law bless you, such a ridicklus gaym I never see: a manso belaybord, beflustered, bewolloped, was never known; it was the laffof the whole town. Your intelackshal natur, respected Barnet, is notfizzickly adapted, so to speak, for encounters of this sort. You mustnot indulge in combats with us course bullies of the press: you have notthe STAMINY for a reglar set-to. What, then, is your plan? In the midstof the mob to pass as quiet as you can: you won't be undistubbed. Whois? Some stray kix and buffits will fall to you--mortial man is subjickto such; but if you begin to wins and cry out, and set up for a marter, wo betide you!

These remarks, pusnal as I confess them to be, are yet, I assure you, written in perfick good-natur, and have been inspired by your play ofthe "Sea Capting, " and prefiz to it; which latter is on matters intirelypusnal, and will, therefore, I trust, igscuse this kind of ad hominam(as they say) disk-cushion. I propose, honrabble Barnit, to cumsidercalmly this play and prephiz, and to speak of both with that honistywhich, in the pantry or studdy, I've been always phamous for. Let us, in the first place, listen to the opening of the "Preface of the FourthEdition:"

"No one can be more sensible than I am of the many faults anddeficiencies to be found in this play; but, perhaps, when it isconsidered how very rarely it has happened in the history of ourdramatic literature that good acting plays have been produced, except bythose who have either been actors themselves, or formed their habits ofliterature, almost of life, behind the scenes, I might have looked fora criticism more generous, and less exacting and rigorous, than thatby which the attempts of an author accustomed to another class ofcomposition have been received by a large proportion of the periodicalpress. 

"It is scarcely possible, indeed, that this play should not containfaults of two kinds, first, the faults of one who has necessarily muchto learn in the mechanism of his art; and, secondly, of one who, havingwritten largely in the narrative style of fiction, may not unfrequentlymistake the effects of a novel for the effects of a drama. I may add tothese, perhaps, the deficiencies that arise from uncertain health andbroken spirits, which render the author more susceptible than he mighthave been some years since to that spirit of depreciation and hostilitywhich it has been his misfortune to excite amongst the generalcontributors to the periodical press for the consciousness that everyendeavor will be made to cavil, to distort, to misrepresent, and, infine, if possible, to RUN DOWN, will occasionally haunt even the hoursof composition, to check the inspiration, and damp the ardor. 

"Having confessed thus much frankly and fairly, and with a hope thatI may ultimately do better, should I continue to write for the stage(which nothing but an assurance that, with all my defects, I may yetbring some little aid to the drama, at a time when any aid, howeverhumble, ought to be welcome to the lovers of the art, could induce me todo), may I be permitted to say a few words as to some of the objectionswhich have been made against this play?"

Now, my dear sir, look what a pretty number of please you put forrardshere, why your play shouldn't be good. 

First. Good plays are almost always written by actors. 

Secknd. You are a novice to the style of composition. 

Third. You MAY be mistaken in your effects, being a novelist by trade, and not a play-writer. 

Fourthly. Your in such bad helth and sperrits. 

Fifthly. Your so afraid of the critix, that they damp your arder. 

For shame, for shame, man! What confeshns is these, --what painfulpewling and piping! Your not a babby. I take you to be some seven oreight and thutty years old--"in the morning of youth, " as the flosofersays. Don't let any such nonsince take your reazn prisoner. What, you, an old hand amongst us, --an old soljer of our sovring quean thepress, --you, who have had the best pay, have held the topmost rank (ay, and DESERVED them too!--I gif you lef to quot me in sasiaty, and say, "IAM a man of genius: Y-ll-wpl-sh says so"), --you to lose heart, and crypickavy, and begin to howl, because little boys fling stones at you!Fie, man! take courage; and, bearing the terrows of your blood-red hand, as the poet says, punish us, if we've ofended you: punish us like a man, or bear your own punishment like a man. Don't try to come off with suchmisrabble lodgic as that above. 

What do you? You give four satisfackary reazns that the play is bad (thesecknd is naught, --for your no such chicking at play-writing, this beingthe forth). You show that the play must be bad, and THEN begin to dealwith the critix for finding folt!

Was there ever wuss generalship? The play IS bad, --your right--a wuss Inever see or read. But why kneed YOU say so? If it was so VERY bad, whypublish it? BECAUSE YOU WISH TO SERVE THE DRAMA! O fie! don't lay thatflattering function to your sole, as Milton observes. Do you believethat this "Sea Capting" can serve the drama? Did you never intend thatit should serve anything, or anybody ELSE? Of cors you did! You wrote itfor money, --money from the maniger, money from the bookseller, --for thesame reason that I write this. Sir, Shakspeare wrote for the very samereasons, and I never heard that he bragged about serving the drama. Awaywith this canting about great motifs! Let us not be too prowd, my dearBarnet, and fansy ourselves marters of the truth, marters or apostels. We are but tradesmen, working for bread, and not for righteousness'sake. Let's try and work honestly; but don't let us be prayting pompislyabout our "sacred calling. " The taylor who makes your coats (and verywell they are made too, with the best of velvit collars)--I say Stulze, or Nugee, might cry out that THEIR motifs were but to assert the eturnletruth of tayloring, with just as much reazn; and who would believe them?

Well; after this acknollitchmint that the play is bad, come sefral pagesof attack on the critix, and the folt those gentry have found with it. With these I shan't middle for the presnt. You defend all the characters1 by 1, and conclude your remarks as follows:--

"I must be pardoned for this disquisition on my own designs. When everymeans is employed to misrepresent, it becomes, perhaps, allowable toexplain. And if I do not think that my faults as a dramatic author areto be found in the study and delineation of character, it is preciselybecause THAT is the point on which all my previous pursuits inliterature and actual life would be most likely to preserve me from theerrors I own elsewhere, whether of misjudgment or inexperience. 

"I have now only to add my thanks to the actors for the zeal and talentwith which they have embodied the characters entrusted to them. Thesweetness and grace with which Miss Faucit embellished the part ofViolet, which, though only a sketch, is most necessary to the coloringand harmony of the play, were perhaps the more pleasing to the audiencefrom the generosity, rare with actors, which induced her to take apart so far inferior to her powers. The applause which attends theperformance of Mrs. Warner and Mr. Strickland attests their successin characters of unusual difficulty; while the singular beauty andnobleness, whether of conception or execution, with which the greatestof living actors has elevated the part of Norman (so totally differentfrom his ordinary range of character), is a new proof of his versatilityand accomplishment in all that belongs to his art. It would be scarcelygracious to conclude these remarks without expressing my acknowledgmentof that generous and indulgent sense of justice which, forgetting allpolitical differences in a literary arena, has enabled me to appeal toapproving audiences--from hostile critics. And it is this which aloneencourages me to hope that, sooner or later, I may add to the dramaticliterature of my country something that may find, perhaps, almost asmany friends in the next age as it has been the fate of the author tofind enemies in this. "

See, now, what a good comfrabble vanaty is! Pepple have quarld with thedramatic characters of your play. "No, " says you; "if I AM remarkabblefor anythink, it's for my study and delineation of character; THAT ispresizely the pint to which my littery purshuits have led me. " Have youread "Jil Blaw, " my dear sir? Have you pirouzed that exlent tragady, the"Critic?" There's something so like this in Sir Fretful Plaguy, and theArchbishop of Granadiers, that I'm blest if I can't laff till my sidesake. Think of the critix fixing on the very pint for which you arefamus!--the roags! And spose they had said the plot was absudd, or thelangwitch absudder still, don't you think you would have had a word indefens of them too--you who hope to find frends for your dramatic wuxin the nex age? Poo! I tell thee, Barnet, that the nex age will bewiser and better than this; and do you think that it will imply itself areading of your trajadies? This is misantrofy, Barnet--reglar Byronism;and you ot to have a better apinian of human natur. 

Your apinion about the actors I shan't here meddle with. They all actedexlently as far as my humbile judgement goes, and your write in givingthem all possible prays. But let's consider the last sentence of theprefiz, my dear Barnet, and see what a pretty set of apiniuns you laydown. 

1. The critix are your inymies in this age. 

2. In the nex, however, you hope to find newmrous frends. 

3. And it's a satisfackshn to think that, in spite of politticlediffrances, you have found frendly aujences here. 

Now, my dear Barnet, for a man who begins so humbly with what my friendFather Prout calls an argamantum ad misericorjam, who ignowledges thathis play is bad, that his pore dear helth is bad, and those cussidcritix have played the juice with him--I say, for a man who beginns insuch a humbill toan, it's rather RICH to see how you end. 

My dear Barnet, DO you suppose that POLITTICLE DIFFRANCES prejudicepepple against YOU? What ARE your politix? Wig, I presume--so are mine, ontry noo. And what if they ARE Wig, or Raddiccle, or Cumsuvvative? Doesany mortial man in England care a phig for your politix? Do you thinkyourself such a mity man in parlymint, that critix are to be angry withyou, and aujences to be cumsidered magnanamous because they treat youfairly? There, now, was Sherridn, he who roat the "Rifles" and "Schoolfor Scandle" (I saw the "Rifles" after your play, and, O Barnet, ifyou KNEW what a relief it was!)--there, I say, was Sherridn--he WAS apolitticle character, if you please--he COULD make a spitch or two--doyou spose that Pitt, Purseyvall, Castlerag, old George the Thirdhimself, wooden go to see the "Rivles"--ay, and clap hands too, andlaff and ror, for all Sherry's Wiggery? Do you spose the critix wouldn'tapplaud too? For shame, Barnet! what ninnis, what hartless raskles, youmust beleave them to be, --in the fust plase, to fancy that you are apolitticle genus; in the secknd, to let your politix interfear withtheir notiums about littery merits!

"Put that nonsince out of your head, " as Fox said to Bonypart. Wasn'tit that great genus, Dennis, that wrote in Swiff and Poop's time, who fansid that the French king wooden make pease unless Denniswas delivered up to him? Upon my wud, I doan't think he carridhis diddlusion much further than a serting honrabble barnet of myaquentance. 

And then for the nex age. Respected sir, this is another diddlusion;a gross misteak on your part, or my name is not Y--sh. These playsimmortial? Ah, parrysampe, as the French say, this is too strong--thesmall-beer of the "Sea Capting, " or of any suxessor of the "SeaCapting, " to keep sweet for sentries and sentries! Barnet, Barnet! doyou know the natur of bear? Six weeks is not past, and here your lastcasque is sour--the public won't even now drink it; and I lay a wagerthat, betwigst this day (the thuttieth November) and the end of theyear, the barl will be off the stox altogether, never, never to return. 

I've notted down a few frazes here and there, which you will do well doigsamin:--

 NORMAN. 

 "The eternal Flora Woos to her odorous haunts the western wind; While circling round and upwards from the boughs, Golden with fruits that lure the joyous birds, Melody, like a happy soul released, Hangs in the air, and from invisible plumes Shakes sweetness down!"

 NORMAN. 

 "And these the lips Where, till this hour, the sad and holy kiss Of parting linger'd, as the fragrance left By ANGELS when they touch the earth and vanish. "

 NORMAN. 

 "Hark! she has blessed her son! I bid ye witness, Ye listening heavens--thou circumambient air: The ocean sighs it back--and with the murmur Rustle the happy leaves. All nature breathes Aloud--aloft--to the Great Parent's ear, The blessing of the mother on her child. "

 NORMAN. 

 "I dream of love, enduring faith, a heart Mingled with mine--a deathless heritage, Which I can take unsullied to the STARS, When the Great Father calls his children home. "

 NORMAN. 

 "The blue air, breathless in the STARRY peace, After long silence hushed as heaven, but filled With happy thoughts as heaven with ANGELS. "

 NORMAN. 

 "Till one calm night, when over earth and wave Heaven looked its love from all its numberless STARS. "

 NORMAN. 

 "Those eyes, the guiding STARS by which I steered. "

 NORMAN. 

 "That great mother (The only parent I have known), whose face Is bright with gazing ever on the STARS-- The mother-sea. "

 NORMAN. 

 "My bark shall be our home; The STARS that light the ANGEL palaces Of air, our lamps. "

 NORMAN. 

 "A name that glitters, like a STAR, amidst The galaxy of England's loftiest born. "

 LADY ARUNDEL. 

 "And see him princeliest of the lion tribe, Whose swords and coronals gleam around the throne, The guardian STARS of the imperial isle. "

The fust spissymen has been going the round of all the papers, as real, reglar poatry. Those wickid critix! they must have been laffing in theirsleafs when they quoted it. Malody, suckling round and uppards from thebows, like a happy soul released, hangs in the air, and from invizableplumes shakes sweetness down. Mighty fine, truly! but let mortial mantell the meannink of the passidge. Is it MUSICKLE sweetniss that Malodyshakes down from its plumes--its wings, that is, or tail--or somepekewliar scent that proceeds from happy souls released, and which theyshake down from the trees when they are suckling round and uppards? ISthis poatry, Barnet? Lay your hand on your busm, and speak out boldly:Is it poatry, or sheer windy humbugg, that sounds a little melojous, andwon't bear the commanest test of comman sence?

In passidge number 2, the same bisniss is going on, though in a morecomprehensable way: the air, the leaves, the otion, are fild withemocean at Capting Norman's happiness. Pore Nature is dragged in topartisapate in his joys, just as she has been befor. Once in a poem, this universle simfithy is very well; but once is enuff, my dear Barnet:and that once should be in some great suckmstans, surely, --such as themeeting of Adam and Eve, in "Paradice Lost, " or Jewpeter and Jewno, inHoamer, where there seems, as it were, a reasn for it. But sea-captingsshould not be eternly spowting and invoking gods, hevns, starrs, angels, and other silestial influences. We can all do it, Barnet; nothing inlife is esier. I can compare my livry buttons to the stars, or theclouds of my backopipe to the dark vollums that ishew from Mount Hetna;or I can say that angels are looking down from them, and the tobaccosilf, like a happy sole released, is circling round and upwards, andshaking sweetness down. All this is as esy as drink; but it's notpoatry, Barnet, nor natural. People, when their mothers reckonize them, don't howl about the suckumambient air, and paws to think of the happyleaves a-rustling--at least, one mistrusts them if they do. Takeanother instans out of your own play. Capting Norman (with his eternilSLACK-JAW!) meets the gal of his art:--

 "Look up, look up, my Violet--weeping? fie! And trembling too--yet leaning on my breast. In truth, thou art too soft for such rude shelter. Look up! I come to woo thee to the seas, My sailor's bride! Hast thou no voice but blushes? Nay--From those roses let me, like the bee, Drag forth the secret sweetness!

 VIOLET. 

 "Oh what thoughts Were kept for SPEECH when we once more should meet, Now blotted from the PAGE; and all I feel Is--THOU art with me!"

Very right, Miss Violet--the scentiment is natral, affeckshnit, pleasing, simple (it might have been in more grammaticle languidge, andno harm done); but never mind, the feeling is pritty; and I can fancy, my dear Barnet, a pritty, smiling, weeping lass, looking up in a man'sface and saying it. But the capting!--oh, this capting!--this windy, spouting captain, with his prittinesses, and conseated apollogies forthe hardness of his busm, and his old, stale, vapid simalies, and hiswishes to be a bee! Pish! Men don't make love in this finnikingway. It's the part of a sentymentle, poeticle taylor, not a galliantgentleman, in command of one of her Madjisty's vessels of war. 

Look at the remaining extrac, honored Barnet, and acknollidge thatCapting Norman is eturnly repeating himself, with his endless jabberabout stars and angels. Look at the neat grammaticle twist of LadyArundel's spitch, too, who, in the corse of three lines, has made herson a prince, a lion, with a sword and coronal, and a star. Why jumbleand sheak up metafors in this way? Barnet, one simily is quite enuff inthe best of sentenses (and I preshume I kneedn't tell you that it's aswell to have it LIKE, when you are about it). Take my advise, honrabblesir--listen to a humble footmin: it's genrally best in poatry tounderstand puffickly what you mean yourself, and to ingspress yourmeaning clearly afterwoods--in the simpler words the better, praps. Youmay, for instans, call a coronet a coronal (an "ancestral coronal, " p. 74) if you like, as you might call a hat a "swart sombrero, " "a glossyfour-and-nine, " "a silken helm, to storm impermeable, and lightsome asthe breezy gossamer;" but, in the long run, it's as well to call ita hat. It IS a hat; and that name is quite as poetticle as another. Ithink it's Playto, or els Harrystottle, who observes that what we call arose by any other name would smell as sweet. Confess, now, dear Barnet, don't you long to call it a Polyanthus?

I never see a play more carelessly written. In such a hurry you seem tohave bean, that you have actially in some sentences forgot to put in thesence. What is this, for instance?--

 "This thrice precious one Smiled to my eyes--drew being from my breast-- Slept in my arms;--the very tears I shed Above my treasures were to men and angels Alike such holy sweetness!"

In the name of all the angels that ever you invoked--Raphael, Gabriel, Uriel, Zadkiel, Azrael--what does this "holy sweetness" mean? We're notspinxes to read such durk conandrums. If you knew my state sins I cameupon this passidg--I've neither slep nor eton; I've neglected my pantry;I've been wandring from house to house with this riddl in my hand, andnobody can understand it. All Mr. Frazier's men are wild, looking gloomyat one another, and asking what this may be. All the cumtributors havebeen spoak to. The Doctor, who knows every languitch, has tried andgiv'n up; we've sent to Docteur Pettigruel, who reads horyglifics adeal ezier than my way of spellin'--no anser. Quick! quick with afifth edition, honored Barnet, and set us at rest! While your about it, please, too, to igsplain the two last lines:--

 "His merry bark with England's flag to crown her. "

See what dellexy of igspreshn, "a flag to crown her!"

 "His merry bark with England's flag to crown her, Fame for my hopes, and woman in my cares. "

Likewise the following:--

 "Girl, beware, THE LOVE THAT TRIFLES ROUND THE CHARMS IT GILDS OFT RUINS WHILE IT SHINES. "

Igsplane this, men and angels! I've tried every way; backards, forards, and in all sorts of trancepositions, as thus:--

 The love that ruins round the charms it shines, Gilds while it trifles oft;

Or, The charm that gilds around the love it ruins, Oft trifles while it shines;

Or, The ruins that love gilds and shines around, Oft trifles where it charms;

Or, Love, while it charms, shines round, and ruins oft, The trifles that it gilds;

Or, The love that trifles, gilds and ruins oft, While round the charms it shines. 

All which are as sensable as the fust passidge. 

And with this I'll alow my friend Smith, who has been silent all thistime, to say a few words. He has not written near so much as me (beingan infearor genus, betwigst ourselves), but he says he never had suchmortial difficklty with anything as with the dixcripshn of the plott ofyour pease. Here his letter:--

To CH-RL-S F-TZR-Y PL-NT-G-N-T Y-LL-WPL-SH, ESQ. , &c. &c. 

30th Nov. 1839. 

MY DEAR AND HONORED SIR, --I have the pleasure of laying before you thefollowing description of the plot, and a few remarks upon the style ofthe piece called "The Sea Captain. "

Five-and-twenty years back, a certain Lord Arundel had a daughter, heiress of his estates and property; a poor cousin, Sir Maurice Beevor(being next in succession); and a page, Arthur Le Mesnil by name. 

The daughter took a fancy for the page, and the young persons weremarried unknown to his lordship. 

Three days before her confinement (thinking, no doubt, that periodfavorable for travelling), the young couple had agreed to run awaytogether, and had reached a chapel near on the sea-coast, from whichthey were to embark, when Lord Arundel abruptly put a stop to theirproceedings by causing one Gaussen, a pirate, to murder the page. 

His daughter was carried back to Arundel House, and, in three days, gavebirth to a son. Whether his lordship knew of this birth I cannot say;the infant, however, was never acknowledged, but carried by Sir MauriceBeevor to a priest, Onslow by name, who educated the lad and kept himfor twelve years in profound ignorance of his birth. The boy went by thename of Norman. 

Lady Arundel meanwhile married again, again became a widow, but had asecond son, who was the acknowledged heir, and called Lord Ashdale. OldLord Arundel died, and her ladyship became countess in her own right. 

When Norman was about twelve years of age, his mother, who wished to"WAFT young Arthur to a distant land, " had him sent on board ship. Whoshould the captain of the ship be but Gaussen, who received a smartbribe from Sir Maurice Beevor to kill the lad. Accordingly, Gaussen tiedhim to a plank, and pitched him overboard. 

 . . . . . . 

About thirteen years after these circumstances, Violet, an orphan nieceof Lady Arundel's second husband, came to pass a few weeks with herladyship. She had just come from a sea-voyage, and had been saved from awicked Algerine by an English sea captain. This sea captain was no otherthan Norman, who had been picked up off his plank, and fell in lovewith, and was loved by, Miss Violet. 

A short time after Violet's arrival at her aunt's the captain came topay her a visit, his ship anchoring off the coast, near Lady Arundel'sresidence. By a singular coincidence, that rogue Gaussen's ship anchoredin the harbor too. Gaussen at once knew his man, for he had "tracked"him, (after drowning him, ) and he informed Sir Maurice Beevor that youngNorman was alive. 

Sir Maurice Beevor informed her ladyship. How should she get rid of him?In this wise. He was in love with Violet, let him marry her and be off;for Lord Ashdale was in love with his cousin too; and, of course, couldnot marry a young woman in her station of life. "You have a chaplain onboard, " says her ladyship to Captain Norman; "let him attend to-nightin the ruined chapel, marry Violet, and away with you to sea. " By thismeans she hoped to be quit of him forever. 

But unfortunately the conversation had been overheard by Beevor, andreported to Ashdale. Ashdale determined to be at the chapel and carryoff Violet; as for Beevor, he sent Gaussen to the chapel to kill bothAshdale and Norman; thus there would only be Lady Arundel between himand the title. 

Norman, in the meanwhile, who had been walking near the chapel, had justseen his worthy old friend, the priest, most barbarously murdered there. Sir Maurice Beevor had set Gaussen upon him; his reverence was comingwith the papers concerning Norman's birth, which Beevor wanted in orderto extort money from the countess. Gaussen was, however, obliged to runbefore he got the papers; and the clergyman had time, before he died, to tell Norman the story, and give him the documents, with which Normansped off to the castle to have an interview with his mother. 

He lays his white cloak and hat on the table, and begs to be left alonewith her ladyship. Lord Ashdale, who is in the room, surlily quits it;but, going out, cunningly puts on Norman's cloak. "It will be dark, "says he, "down at the chapel; Violet won't know me; and, egad! I'll runoff with her!"

Norman has his interview. Her ladyship acknowledges him, for she cannothelp it; but will not embrace him, love him, or have anything to do withhim. 

Away he goes to the chapel. His chaplain was there waiting to marry himto Violet, his boat was there to carry him on board his ship, and Violetwas there, too. 

"Norman, " says she, in the dark, "dear Norman, I knew you by your whitecloak; here I am. " And she and the man in a cloak go off to the innerchapel to be married. 

There waits Master Gaussen; he has seized the chaplain and the boat'screw, and is just about to murder the man in the cloak, when--

NORMAN rushes in and cuts him down, much to the surprise of Miss, forshe never suspected it was sly Ashdale who had come, as we have seen, disguised, and very nearly paid for his masquerading. 

Ashdale is very grateful; but, when Norman persists in marrying Violet, he says--no, he shan't. He shall fight; he is a coward if he doesn'tfight. Norman flings down his sword, and says he WON'T fight; and--

Lady Arundel, who has been at prayers all this time, rushing in, says, "Hold! this is your brother, Percy--your elder brother!" Here is somerestiveness on Ashdale's part, but he finishes by embracing his brother. 

Norman burns all the papers; vows he will never peach; reconcileshimself with his mother; says he will go loser; but, having ordered hisship to "veer" round to the chapel, orders it to veer back again, for hewill pass the honeymoon at Arundel Castle. 

As you have been pleased to ask my opinion, it strikes me that there areone or two very good notions in this plot. But the author does not fail, as he would modestly have us believe, from ignorance of stage-business;he seems to know too much, rather than too little, about the stage; tobe too anxious to cram in effects, incidents, perplexities. There isthe perplexity concerning Ashdale's murder, and Norman's murder, and thepriest's murder, and the page's murder, and Gaussen's murder. There isthe perplexity about the papers, and that about the hat and cloak, (asilly, foolish obstacle, ) which only tantalize the spectator, and retardthe march of the drama's action: it is as if the author had said, "I must have a new incident in every act, I must keep tickling thespectator perpetually, and never let him off until the fall of thecurtain. "

The same disagreeable bustle and petty complication of intrigue you mayremark in the author's drama of "Richelieu. " "The Lady of Lyons" was amuch simpler and better wrought plot; the incidents following each othereither not too swiftly or startlingly. In "Richelieu, " it always seemedto me as if one heard doors perpetually clapping and banging; onewas puzzled to follow the train of conversation, in the midst of theperpetual small noises that distracted one right and left. 

Nor is the list of characters of "The Sea Captain" to be despised. Theoutlines of all of them are good. A mother, for whom one feels a propertragic mixture of hatred and pity; a gallant single-hearted son, whomshe disdains, and who conquers her at last by his noble conduct; adashing haughty Tybalt of a brother; a wicked poor cousin, a prettymaid, and a fierce buccaneer. These people might pass three hours verywell on the stage, and interest the audience hugely; but the authorfails in filling up the outlines. His language is absurdly stilted, frequently careless; the reader or spectator hears a number of loudspeeches, but scarce a dozen lines that seem to belong of nature to thespeakers. 

Nothing can be more fulsome or loathsome to my mind than the continualsham-religious clap-traps which the author has put into the mouth ofhis hero; nothing more unsailor-like than his namby-pamby starlitdescriptions, which my ingenious colleague has, I see, alluded to. "Thyfaith my anchor, and thine eyes my haven, " cries the gallant captain tohis lady. See how loosely the sentence is constructed, like a thousandothers in the book. The captain is to cast anchor with the girl's faithin her own eyes; either image might pass by itself, but together, likethe quadrupeds of Kilkenny, they devour each other. The captain tellshis lieutenant to BID HIS BARK VEER ROUND to a point in the harbor. Wasever such language? My lady gives Sir Maurice a thousand pounds to WAFThim (her son) to some distant shore. Nonsense, sheer nonsense; and whatis worse, affected nonsense!

Look at the comedy of the poor cousin. "There is a great deal of game onthe estate--partridges, hares, wild-geese, snipes, and plovers (SMACKINGHIS LIPS)--besides a magnificent preserve of sparrows, which I can sellTO THE LITTLE BLACKGUARDS in the streets at a penny a hundred. But I amvery poor--a very poor old knight!"

Is this wit or nature? It is a kind of sham wit; it reads as if it werewit, but it is not. What poor, poor stuff, about the little blackguardboys! what flimsy ecstasies and silly "smacking of lips" about theplovers. Is this the man who writes for the next age? O fie! Here isanother joke:--

 "Sir Maurice. Mice! zounds, how can I Keep mice! I can't afford it! They were starved To death an age ago. The last was found Come Christmas three years, stretched beside a bone In that same larder, so consumed and worn By pious fast, 'twas awful to behold it! I canonized its corpse in spirits of wine, And set it in the porch--a solemn warning To thieves and beggars!"

Is not this rare wit? "Zounds! how can I keep mice?" is well enough fora miser; not too new, or brilliant either; but this miserable dilutionof a thin joke, this wretched hunting down of the poor mouse! It ishumiliating to think of a man of esprit harping so long on such a mean, pitiful string. A man who aspires to immortality, too! I doubt whetherit is to be gained thus; whether our author's words are not too looselybuilt to make "starry pointing pyramids of. " Horace clipped and squaredhis blocks more carefully before he laid the monument which imber edax, or aquila impotens, or fuga temporum might assail in vain. Even oldOvid, when he raised his stately, shining heathen temple, had placedsome columns in it, and hewn out a statue or two which deserved theimmortality that he prophesied (somewhat arrogantly) for himself. Butlet not all be looking forward to a future, and fancying that, "incertispatium dum finiat aevi, " our books are to be immortal. Alas! the way toimmortality is not so easy, nor will our "Sea Captain" be permitted suchan unconscionable cruise. If all the immortalities were really to havetheir wish, what a work would our descendants have to study them all!

Not yet, in my humble opinion, has the honorable baronet achieved thisdeathless consummation. There will come a day (may it be long distant!)when the very best of his novels will be forgotten; and it is reasonableto suppose that his dramas will pass out of existence, some time orother, in the lapse of the secula seculorum. In the meantime, my dearPlush, if you ask me what the great obstacle is towards the dramaticfame and merit of our friend, I would say that it does not lie so muchin hostile critics or feeble health, as in a careless habit of writing, and a peevish vanity which causes him to shut his eyes to his faults. The question of original capacity I will not moot; one may think veryhighly of the honorable baronet's talent, without rating it quite sohigh as he seems disposed to do. 

And to conclude: as he has chosen to combat the critics in person, thecritics are surely justified in being allowed to address him directly. 

 With best compliments to Mrs. Yellowplush, I have the honor to be, dear Sir, Your most faithful and obliged humble servant, JOHN THOMAS SMITH. 

And now, Smith having finisht his letter, I think I can't do better thanclothes mine lickwise; for though I should never be tired of talking, praps the public may of hearing, and therefore it's best to shut upshopp. 

What I've said, respected Barnit, I hoap you woan't take unkind. Aplay, you see, is public property for every one to say his say on; andI think, if you read your prefez over agin, you'll see that it ax as adirect incouridgment to us critix to come forrard and notice you. Butdon't fansy, I besitch you, that we are actiated by hostillaty; fustwrite a good play, and you'll see we'll prays it fast enuff. Waitingwhich, Agray, Munseer le Chevaleer, l'ashurance de ma hot cumsideratun. 

Voter distangy, Y.