CATHERINE: A STORY

by William Makepeace Thackeray

[Catherine, A Story by Ikey Solomons, Esq. , Junior. ]

Contents

Advertisement

1. Introducing to the reader the chief personages of this narrative. 

2. In which are depicted the pleasures of a sentimental attachment. 

3. In which a narcotic is administered, and a great deal of genteelsociety depicted. 

4. In which Mrs. Catherine becomes an honest woman again. 

5. Contains Mr. Brock's autobiography, and other matter. 

6. The adventures of the ambassador, Mr. MacShane. 

7. Which embraces a period of seven years. 

8. Enumerates the accomplishments of Master Thomas Billings--introducesBrock as Doctor Wood--and announces the execution of Ensign MacShane. 

9. Interview between Count Galgenstein and Master Thomas Billings, whenhe informs the Count of his parentage. 

10. Showing how Galgenstein and Mrs. Cat recognise each other inMarylebone Gardens--and how the Count drives her home in his carrige. 

11. Of some domestic quarrels, and the consequence thereof. 

12. Treats of love, and prepares for death. 

13. Being a preparation for the end. 

Chapter the Last. 

Another Last Chapter. 

ADVERTISEMENT

The story of "Catherine, " which appeared in Fraser's Magazine in1839-40, was written by Mr. Thackeray, under the name of Ikey Solomons, Jun. , to counteract the injurious influence of some popular fictions ofthat day, which made heroes of highwaymen and burglars, and created afalse sympathy for the vicious and criminal. 

With this purpose, the author chose for the subject of his story awoman named Catherine Hayes, who was burned at Tyburn, in 1726, for thedeliberate murder of her husband, under very revolting circumstances. Mr. Thackeray's aim obviously was to describe the career of thiswretched woman and her associates with such fidelity to truth as toexhibit the danger and folly of investing such persons with heroic andromantic qualities. 

CHAPTER I. Introducing to the reader the chief personages of thisnarrative. 

At that famous period of history, when the seventeenth century (aftera deal of quarrelling, king-killing, reforming, republicanising, restoring, re-restoring, play-writing, sermon-writing, Oliver-Cromwellising, Stuartising, and Orangising, to be sure) had sunkinto its grave, giving place to the lusty eighteenth; when Mr. IsaacNewton was a tutor of Trinity, and Mr. Joseph Addison Commissioner ofAppeals; when the presiding genius that watched over the destinies ofthe French nation had played out all the best cards in his hand, and hisadversaries began to pour in their trumps; when there were two kings inSpain employed perpetually in running away from one another; when therewas a queen in England, with such rogues for Ministers as have neverbeen seen, no, not in our own day; and a General, of whom it may beseverely argued, whether he was the meanest miser or the greatest heroin the world; when Mrs. Masham had not yet put Madam Marlborough's noseout of joint; when people had their ears cut off for writing verymeek political pamphlets; and very large full-bottomed wigs were justbeginning to be worn with powder; and the face of Louis the Great, ashis was handed in to him behind the bed-curtains, was, when issuingthence, observed to look longer, older, and more dismal daily. .. . 

About the year One thousand seven hundred and five, that is, in theglorious reign of Queen Anne, there existed certain characters, andbefell a series of adventures, which, since they are strictly inaccordance with the present fashionable style and taste; since they havebeen already partly described in the "Newgate Calendar;" since they are(as shall be seen anon) agreeably low, delightfully disgusting, and atthe same time eminently pleasing and pathetic, may properly be set downhere. 

And though it may be said, with some considerable show of reason, thatagreeably low and delightfully disgusting characters have already beentreated, both copiously and ably, by some eminent writers of the present(and, indeed, of future) ages; though to tread in the footsteps ofthe immortal FAGIN requires a genius of inordinate stride, and to goa-robbing after the late though deathless TURPIN, the renownedJACK SHEPPARD, or the embryo DUVAL, may be impossible, and not aninfringement, but a wasteful indication of ill-will towards the eighthcommandment; though it may, on the one hand, be asserted that only vaincoxcombs would dare to write on subjects already described by men reallyand deservedly eminent; on the other hand, that these subjects have beendescribed so fully, that nothing more can be said about them; on thethird hand (allowing, for the sake of argument, three hands to onefigure of speech), that the public has heard so much of them, as tobe quite tired of rogues, thieves, cutthroats, and Newgatealtogether;--though all these objections may be urged, and each isexcellent, yet we intend to take a few more pages from the "Old BaileyCalendar, " to bless the public with one more draught from the StoneJug:[*]--yet awhile to listen, hurdle-mounted, and riding down theOxford Road, to the bland conversation of Jack Ketch, and to hang withhim round the neck of his patient, at the end of our and his history. We give the reader fair notice, that we shall tickle him with a few suchscenes of villainy, throat-cutting, and bodily suffering in general, asare not to be found, no, not in--; never mind comparisons, for such areodious. 

 * This, as your Ladyship is aware, is the polite name for Her Majesty's Prison of Newgate. 

In the year 1705, then, whether it was that the Queen of England didfeel seriously alarmed at the notion that a French prince should occupythe Spanish throne; or whether she was tenderly attached to the Emperorof Germany; or whether she was obliged to fight out the quarrel ofWilliam of Orange, who made us pay and fight for his Dutch provinces;or whether poor old Louis Quatorze did really frighten her; or whetherSarah Jennings and her husband wanted to make a fight, knowing how muchthey should gain by it;--whatever the reason was, it was evident thatthe war was to continue, and there was almost as much soldieringand recruiting, parading, pike and gun-exercising, flag-flying, drum-beating, powder-blazing, and military enthusiasm, as we can allremember in the year 1801, what time the Corsican upstart menaced ourshores. A recruiting-party and captain of Cutts's regiment (which hadbeen so mangled at Blenheim the year before) were now in Warwickshire;and having their depot at Warwick, the captain and his attendant, thecorporal, were used to travel through the country, seeking for heroes tofill up the gaps in Cutts's corps, --and for adventures to pass away theweary time of a country life. 

Our Captain Plume and Sergeant Kite (it was at this time, by the way, that those famous recruiting-officers were playing their pranks inShrewsbury) were occupied very much in the same manner with Farquhar'sheroes. They roamed from Warwick to Stratford, and from Stratford toBirmingham, persuading the swains of Warwickshire to leave the ploughfor the Pike, and despatching, from time to time, small detachmentsof recruits to extend Marlborough's lines, and to act as food for thehungry cannon at Ramillies and Malplaquet. 

Of those two gentlemen who are about to act a very important part in ourhistory, one only was probably a native of Britain, --we say probably, because the individual in question was himself quite uncertain, and, itmust be added, entirely indifferent about his birthplace; but speakingthe English language, and having been during the course of his lifepretty generally engaged in the British service, he had a tolerablyfair claim to the majestic title of Briton. His name was Peter Brock, otherwise Corporal Brock, of Lord Cutts's regiment of dragoons; he wasof age about fifty-seven (even that point has never been ascertained);in height about five feet six inches; in weight, nearly thirteen stone;with a chest that the celebrated Leitch himself might envy; an armthat was like an opera-dancer's leg; a stomach so elastic that it wouldaccommodate itself to any given or stolen quantity of food; a greataptitude for strong liquors; a considerable skill in singing chansons detable of not the most delicate kind; he was a lover of jokes, of whichhe made many, and passably bad; when pleased, simply coarse, boisterous, and jovial; when angry, a perfect demon: bullying, cursing, storming, fighting, as is sometimes the wont with gentlemen of his cloth andeducation. 

Mr. Brock was strictly, what the Marquis of Rodil styled himself in aproclamation to his soldiers after running away, a hijo de la guerra--achild of war. Not seven cities, but one or two regiments, might contendfor the honour of giving him birth; for his mother, whose name he took, had acted as camp-follower to a Royalist regiment; had then obeyed theParliamentarians; died in Scotland when Monk was commanding in thatcountry; and the first appearance of Mr. Brock in a public capacitydisplayed him as a fifer in the General's own regiment of Coldstreamers, when they marched from Scotland to London, and from a republic at onceinto a monarchy. Since that period, Brock had been always with the army, he had had, too, some promotion, for he spake of having a command at thebattle of the Boyne; though probably (as he never mentioned the fact)upon the losing side. The very year before this narrative commences, he had been one of Mordaunt's forlorn hope at Schellenberg, for whichservice he was promised a pair of colours; he lost them, however, andwas almost shot (but fate did not ordain that his career should closein that way) for drunkenness and insubordination immediately after thebattle; but having in some measure reinstated himself by a displayof much gallantry at Blenheim, it was found advisable to send him toEngland for the purposes of recruiting, and remove him altogether fromthe regiment where his gallantry only rendered the example of his riotmore dangerous. 

Mr. Brock's commander was a slim young gentleman of twenty-six, aboutwhom there was likewise a history, if one would take the trouble toinquire. He was a Bavarian by birth (his mother being an English lady), and enjoyed along with a dozen other brothers the title of count: elevenof these, of course, were penniless; one or two were priests, one amonk, six or seven in various military services, and the elder at homeat Schloss Galgenstein breeding horses, hunting wild boars, swindlingtenants, living in a great house with small means; obliged to be sordidat home all the year, to be splendid for a month at the capital, asis the way with many other noblemen. Our young count, Count GustavusAdolphus Maximilian von Galgenstein, had been in the service of theFrench as page to a nobleman; then of His Majesty's gardes du corps;then a lieutenant and captain in the Bavarian service; and when, afterthe battle of Blenheim, two regiments of Germans came over to thewinning side, Gustavus Adolphus Maximilian found himself among them; andat the epoch when this story commences, had enjoyed English pay for ayear or more. It is unnecessary to say how he exchanged into his presentregiment; how it appeared that, before her marriage, handsome JohnChurchill had known the young gentleman's mother, when they were bothpenniless hangers-on at Charles the Second's court;--it is, we say, quite useless to repeat all the scandal of which we are perfectlymasters, and to trace step by step the events of his history. Here, however, was Gustavus Adolphus, in a small inn, in a small village ofWarwickshire, on an autumn evening in the year 1705; and at the verymoment when this history begins, he and Mr. Brock, his corporal andfriend, were seated at a round table before the kitchen-fire while asmall groom of the establishment was leading up and down on thevillage green, before the inn door, two black, glossy, long-tailed, barrel-bellied, thick-flanked, arch-necked, Roman-nosed Flanders horses, which were the property of the two gentlemen now taking their ease atthe "Bugle Inn. " The two gentlemen were seated at their ease at the inntable, drinking mountain-wine; and if the reader fancies from the sketchwhich we have given of their lives, or from his own blindness and beliefin the perfectibility of human nature, that the sun of that autumnevening shone upon any two men in county or city, at desk or harvest, atCourt or at Newgate, drunk or sober, who were greater rascals thanCount Gustavus Galgenstein and Corporal Peter Brock, he is egregiouslymistaken, and his knowledge of human nature is not worth a fig. If theyhad not been two prominent scoundrels, what earthly business should wehave in detailing their histories? What would the public care forthem? Who would meddle with dull virtue, humdrum sentiment, or stupidinnocence, when vice, agreeable vice, is the only thing which thereaders of romances care to hear?

The little horse-boy, who was leading the two black Flanders horses upand down the green, might have put them in the stable for any good thatthe horses got by the gentle exercise which they were now taking in thecool evening air, as their owners had not ridden very far or very hard, and there was not a hair turned of their sleek shining coats; but thelad had been especially ordered so to walk the horses about until hereceived further commands from the gentlemen reposing in the "Bugle"kitchen; and the idlers of the village seemed so pleased with thebeasts, and their smart saddles and shining bridles, that it would havebeen a pity to deprive them of the pleasure of contemplating such aninnocent spectacle. Over the Count's horse was thrown a fine red cloth, richly embroidered in yellow worsted, a very large count's coronet and acipher at the four corners of the covering; and under this might beseen a pair of gorgeous silver stirrups, and above it, a couple ofsilver-mounted pistols reposing in bearskin holsters; the bit was silvertoo, and the horse's head was decorated with many smart ribbons. Of theCorporal's steed, suffice it to say, that the ornaments were in brass, as bright, though not perhaps so valuable, as those which decorated theCaptain's animal. The boys, who had been at play on the green, firstpaused and entered into conversation with the horse-boy; then thevillage matrons followed; and afterwards, sauntering by ones and twos, came the village maidens, who love soldiers as flies love treacle;presently the males began to arrive, and lo! the parson of the parish, taking his evening walk with Mrs. Dobbs, and the four children hisoffspring, at length joined himself to his flock. 

To this audience the little ostler explained that the animals belongedto two gentlemen now reposing at the "Bugle:" one young with goldhair, the other old with grizzled locks; both in red coats; both injack-boots; putting the house into a bustle, and calling for the best. He then discoursed to some of his own companions regarding the merits ofthe horses; and the parson, a learned man, explained to the villagers, that one of the travellers must be a count, or at least had a count'shorsecloth; pronounced that the stirrups were of real silver, andchecked the impetuosity of his son, William Nassau Dobbs, who was formounting the animals, and who expressed a longing to fire off one of thepistols in the holsters. 

As this family discussion was taking place, the gentlemen whoseappearance had created so much attention came to the door of the inn, and the elder and stouter was seen to smile at his companion; afterwhich he strolled leisurely over the green, and seemed to examinewith much benevolent satisfaction the assemblage of villagers who werestaring at him and the quadrupeds. 

Mr. Brock, when he saw the parson's band and cassock, took off hisbeaver reverently, and saluted the divine: "I hope your reverence won'tbaulk the little fellow, " said he; "I think I heard him calling out fora ride, and whether he should like my horse, or his Lordship's horse, Iam sure it is all one. Don't be afraid, sir! the horses are not tired;we have only come seventy mile to-day, and Prince Eugene once rode amatter of fifty-two leagues (a hundred and fifty miles), sir, upon thathorse, between sunrise and sunset. "

"Gracious powers! on which horse?" said Doctor Dobbs, very solemnly. 

"On THIS, sir, --on mine, Corporal Brock of Cutts's black gelding, 'William of Nassau. ' The Prince, sir, gave it me after Blenheim fight, for I had my own legs carried away by a cannon-ball, just as I cut downtwo of Sauerkrauter's regiment, who had made the Prince prisoner. "

"Your own legs, sir!" said the Doctor. "Gracious goodness! this is moreand more astonishing!"

"No, no, not my own legs, my horse's I mean, sir; and the Prince gave me'William of Nassau' that very day. "

To this no direct reply was made; but the Doctor looked at Mrs. Dobbs, and Mrs. Dobbs and the rest of the children at her eldest son, whogrinned and said, "Isn't it wonderful?" The Corporal to this answerednothing, but, resuming his account, pointed to the other horse and said, "THAT horse, sir--good as mine is--that horse, with the silver stirrups, is his Excellency's horse, Captain Count Maximilian Gustavus Adolphusvon Galgenstein, captain of horse and of the Holy Roman Empire" (helifted here his hat with much gravity, and all the crowd, even tothe parson, did likewise). "We call him 'George of Denmark, ' sir, incompliment to Her Majesty's husband: he is Blenheim too, sir; MarshalTallard rode him on that day, and you know how HE was taken prisoner bythe Count. "

"George of Denmark, Marshal Tallard, William of Nassau! this is strangeindeed, most wonderful! Why, sir, little are you aware that there arebefore you, AT THIS MOMENT, two other living beings who bear thesevenerated names! My boys, stand forward! Look here, sir: these childrenhave been respectively named after our late sovereign and the husband ofour present Queen. "

"And very good names too, sir; ay, and very noble little fellows too;and I propose that, with your reverence and your ladyship's leave, William Nassau here shall ride on George of Denmark, and George ofDenmark shall ride on William of Nassau. "

When this speech of the Corporal's was made, the whole crowd set up aloyal hurrah; and, with much gravity, the two little boys were lifted upinto the saddles; and the Corporal leading one, entrusted the other tothe horse-boy, and so together marched stately up and down the green. 

The popularity which Mr. Brock gained by this manoeuvre was very great;but with regard to the names of the horses and children, which coincidedso extraordinarily, it is but fair to state, that the christening of thequadrupeds had only taken place about two minutes before the dragoon'sappearance on the green. For if the fact must be confessed, he, whileseated near the inn window, had kept a pretty wistful eye upon all goingon without; and the horses marching thus to and fro for the wondermentof the village, were only placards or advertisements for the riders. 

There was, besides the boy now occupied with the horses, and thelandlord and landlady of the "Bugle Inn, " another person connected withthat establishment--a very smart, handsome, vain, giggling servant-girl, about the age of sixteen, who went by the familiar name of Cat, andattended upon the gentlemen in the parlour, while the landlady wasemployed in cooking their supper in the kitchen. This young person hadbeen educated in the village poor-house, and having been pronouncedby Doctor Dobbs and the schoolmaster the idlest, dirtiest, and mostpassionate little minx with whom either had ever had to do, she was, after receiving a very small portion of literary instruction (indeedit must be stated that the young lady did not know her letters), boundapprentice at the age of nine years to Mrs. Score, her relative, andlandlady of the "Bugle Inn. "

If Miss Cat, or Catherine Hall, was a slattern and a minx, Mrs. Scorewas a far superior shrew; and for the seven years of her apprenticeshipthe girl was completely at her mistress's mercy. Yet though wondrouslystingy, jealous, and violent, while her maid was idle and extravagant, and her husband seemed to abet the girl, Mrs. Score put up with thewench's airs, idleness, and caprices, without ever wishing to dismissher from the "Bugle. " The fact is, that Miss Catherine was a greatbeauty, and for about two years, since her fame had begun to spread, the custom of the inn had also increased vastly. When there was a debatewhether the farmers, on their way from market, would take t'other pot, Catherine, by appearing with it, would straightway cause the liquor tobe swallowed and paid for; and when the traveller who proposed ridingthat night and sleeping at Coventry or Birmingham, was asked by MissCatherine whether he would like a fire in his bedroom, he generally wasinduced to occupy it, although he might before have vowed to Mrs. Scorethat he would not for a thousand guineas be absent from home that night. The girl had, too, half-a-dozen lovers in the village; and these werebound in honour to spend their pence at the alehouse she inhabited. Owoman, lovely woman! what strong resolves canst thou twist round thylittle finger! what gunpowder passions canst thou kindle with a singlesparkle of thine eye! what lies and fribble nonsense canst thou make uslisten to, as they were gospel truth or splendid wit! above all what badliquor canst thou make us swallow when thou puttest a kiss within thecup--and we are content to call the poison wine!

The mountain-wine at the "Bugle" was, in fact, execrable; but Mrs. Cat, who served it to the two soldiers, made it so agreeable to them, thatthey found it a passable, even a pleasant task, to swallow the contentsof a second bottle. The miracle had been wrought instantaneously on herappearance: for whereas at that very moment the Count was employed incursing the wine, the landlady, the wine-grower, and the English nationgenerally, when the young woman entered and (choosing so tointerpret the oaths) said, "Coming, your honour; I think your honourcalled"--Gustavus Adolphus whistled, stared at her very hard, andseeming quite dumb-stricken by her appearance, contented himself byswallowing a whole glass of mountain by way of reply. 

Mr. Brock was, however, by no means so confounded as his captain: he wasthirty years older than the latter, and in the course of fifty years ofmilitary life had learned to look on the most dangerous enemy, or themost beautiful woman, with the like daring, devil-may-care determinationto conquer. 

"My dear Mary, " then said that gentleman, "his honour is a lord; as goodas a lord, that is; for all he allows such humble fellows as I am todrink with him. "

Catherine dropped a low curtsey, and said, "Well, I don't know if youare joking a poor country girl, as all you soldier gentlemen do; but hishonour LOOKS like a lord: though I never see one, to be sure. "

"Then, " said the Captain, gathering courage, "how do you know I looklike one, pretty Mary?"

"Pretty Catherine: I mean Catherine, if you please, sir. "

Here Mr. Brock burst into a roar of laughter, and shouting with manyoaths that she was right at first, invited her to give him what hecalled a buss. 

Pretty Catherine turned away from him at this request, and mutteredsomething about "Keep your distance, low fellow! buss indeed; poorcountry girl, " etc. Etc. , placing herself, as if for protection, on theside of the Captain. That gentleman looked also very angry; but whetherat the sight of innocence so outraged, or the insolence of the Corporalfor daring to help himself first, we cannot say. "Hark ye, Mr. Brock, "he cried very fiercely, "I will suffer no such liberties in my presence:remember, it is only my condescension which permits you to share mybottle in this way; take care I don't give you instead a taste of mycane. " So saying, he, in a protecting manner, placed one hand roundMrs. Catherine's waist, holding the other clenched very near to theCorporal's nose. 

Mrs. Catherine, for HER share of this action of the Count's, droppedanother curtsey and said, "Thank you, my Lord. " But Galgenstein's threatdid not appear to make any impression on Mr. Brock, as indeed there wasno reason that it should; for the Corporal, at a combat of fisticuffs, could have pounded his commander into a jelly in ten minutes; so hecontented himself by saying, "Well, noble Captain, there's no harm done;it IS an honour for poor old Peter Brock to be at table with you, and IAM sorry, sure enough. "

"In truth, Peter, I believe thou art; thou hast good reason, eh, Peter?But never fear, man; had I struck thee, I never would have hurt thee. "

"I KNOW you would not, " replied Brock, laying his hand on his heartwith much gravity; and so peace was made, and healths were drunk. MissCatherine condescended to put her lips to the Captain's glass; who sworethat the wine was thus converted into nectar; and although the girl hadnot previously heard of that liquor, she received the compliment as acompliment, and smiled and simpered in return. 

The poor thing had never before seen anybody so handsome, or so finelydressed as the Count; and, in the simplicity of her coquetry, allowedher satisfaction to be quite visible. Nothing could be more clumsy thanthe gentleman's mode of complimenting her; but for this, perhaps, hisspeeches were more effective than others more delicate would have been;and though she said to each, "Oh, now, my Lord, " and "La, Captain, howcan you flatter one so?" and "Your honour's laughing at me, " and madesuch polite speeches as are used on these occasions, it was manifestfrom the flutter and blush, and the grin of satisfaction which lightedup the buxom features of the little country beauty, that the Count'sfirst operations had been highly successful. When following up hisattack, he produced from his neck a small locket (which had been givenhim by a Dutch lady at the Brill), and begged Miss Catherine to wear itfor his sake, and chucked her under the chin and called her his littlerosebud, it was pretty clear how things would go: anybody who could seethe expression of Mr. Brock's countenance at this event might judge ofthe progress of the irresistible High-Dutch conqueror. 

Being of a very vain communicative turn, our fair barmaid gave her twocompanions, not only a pretty long account of herself, but of many otherpersons in the village, whom she could perceive from the window oppositeto which she stood. "Yes, your honour, " said she--"my Lord, I mean;sixteen last March, though there's a many girl in the village that atmy age is quite chits. There's Polly Randall now, that red-haired girlalong with Thomas Curtis: she's seventeen if she's a day, though he isthe very first sweetheart she has had. Well, as I am saying, I was bredup here in the village--father and mother died very young, and I wasleft a poor orphan--well, bless us! if Thomas haven't kissed her!--tothe care of Mrs. Score, my aunt, who has been a mother to me--astepmother, you know;--and I've been to Stratford fair, and to Warwickmany a time; and there's two people who have offered to marry me, andever so many who want to, and I won't have none--only a gentleman, as I've always said; not a poor clodpole, like Tom there with the redwaistcoat (he was one that asked me), nor a drunken fellow like SamBlacksmith yonder, him whose wife has got the black eye, but a realgentleman, like--"

"Like whom, my dear?" said the Captain, encouraged. 

"La, sir, how can you? Why, like our squire, Sir John, who rides insuch a mortal fine gold coach; or, at least, like the parson, DoctorDobbs--that's he, in the black gown, walking with Madam Dobbs in red. "

"And are those his children?"

"Yes: two girls and two boys; and only think, he calls one WilliamNassau, and one George Denmark--isn't it odd?" And from the parson, Mrs. Catherine went on to speak of several humble personages of the villagecommunity, who, as they are not necessary to our story, need not bedescribed at full length. It was when, from the window, Corporal Brocksaw the altercation between the worthy divine and his son, respectingthe latter's ride, that he judged it a fitting time to step out on thegreen, and to bestow on the two horses those famous historical nameswhich we have just heard applied to them. 

Mr. Brock's diplomacy was, as we have stated, quite successful; for, when the parson's boys had ridden and retired along with their mamma andpapa, other young gentlemen of humbler rank in the village were placedupon "George of Denmark" and "William of Nassau;" the Corporal jokingand laughing with all the grown-up people. The women, in spite of Mr. Brock's age, his red nose, and a certain squint of his eye, vowed theCorporal was a jewel of a man; and among the men his popularity wasequally great. 

"How much dost thee get, Thomas Clodpole?" said Mr. Brock to acountryman (he was the man whom Mrs. Catherine had described as hersuitor), who had laughed loudest at some of his jokes: "how much dostthee get for a week's work, now?"

Mr. Clodpole, whose name was really Bullock, stated that his wagesamounted to "three shillings and a puddn. "

"Three shillings and a puddn!--monstrous!--and for this you toil like agalley-slave, as I have seen them in Turkey and America, --ay, gentlemen, and in the country of Prester John! You shiver out of bed on icy wintermornings, to break the ice for Ball and Dapple to drink. "

"Yes, indeed, " said the person addressed, who seemed astounded at theextent of the Corporal's information. 

"Or you clean pigsty, and take dung down to meadow; or you act watchdogand tend sheep; or you sweep a scythe over a great field of grass; andwhen the sun has scorched the eyes out of your head, and sweated theflesh off your bones, and well-nigh fried the soul out of your body, you go home, to what?--three shillings a week and a puddn! Do you getpudding every day?"

"No; only Sundays. "

"Do you get money enough?"

"No, sure. "

"Do you get beer enough?"

"Oh no, NEVER!" said Mr. Bullock quite resolutely. 

"Worthy Clodpole, give us thy hand: it shall have beer enough this day, or my name's not Corporal Brock. Here's the money, boy! there are twentypieces in this purse: and how do you think I got 'em? and how do youthink I shall get others when these are gone?--by serving Her SacredMajesty, to be sure: long life to her, and down with the French King!"

Bullock, a few of the men, and two or three of the boys, piped outan hurrah, in compliment to this speech of the Corporal's: but itwas remarked that the greater part of the crowd drew back--the womenwhispering ominously to them and looking at the Corporal. 

"I see, ladies, what it is, " said he. "You are frightened, and think Iam a crimp come to steal your sweethearts away. What! call Peter Brock adouble-dealer? I tell you what, boys, Jack Churchill himself has shakenthis hand, and drunk a pot with me: do you think he'd shake hands witha rogue? Here's Tummas Clodpole has never had beer enough, and here amI will stand treat to him and any other gentleman: am I good enoughcompany for him? I have money, look you, and like to spend it: whatshould _I_ be doing dirty actions for--hay, Tummas?"

A satisfactory reply to this query was not, of course, expected by theCorporal nor uttered by Mr. Bullock; and the end of the dispute was, that he and three or four of the rustic bystanders were quite convincedof the good intentions of their new friend, and accompanied him backto the "Bugle, " to regale upon the promised beer. Among the Corporal'sguests was one young fellow whose dress would show that he was somewhatbetter to do in the world than Clodpole and the rest of the sunburntragged troop, who were marching towards the alehouse. This man was theonly one of his hearers who, perhaps, was sceptical as to the truth ofhis stories; but as soon as Bullock accepted the invitation to drink, John Hayes, the carpenter (for such was his name and profession), said, "Well, Thomas, if thou goest, I will go too. "

"I know thee wilt, " said Thomas: "thou'lt goo anywhere Catty Hall is, provided thou canst goo for nothing. "

"Nay, I have a penny to spend as good as the Corporal here. "

"A penny to KEEP, you mean: for all your love for the lass at the'Bugle, ' did thee ever spend a shilling in the house? Thee wouldn't gonow, but that I am going too, and the Captain here stands treat. "

"Come, come, gentlemen, no quarrelling, " said Mr. Brock. "If this prettyfellow will join us, amen say I: there's lots of liquor, and plentyof money to pay the score. Comrade Tummas, give us thy arm. Mr. Hayes, you're a hearty cock, I make no doubt, and all such are welcome. Comealong, my gentleman farmers, Mr. Brock shall have the honour to pay foryou all. " And with this, Corporal Brock, accompanied by Messrs. Hayes, Bullock, Blacksmith, Baker's-boy, Butcher, and one or two others, adjourned to the inn; the horses being, at the same time, conducted tothe stable. 

Although we have, in this quiet way, and without any flourishing oftrumpets, or beginning of chapters, introduced Mr. Hayes to the public;and although, at first sight, a sneaking carpenter's boy may seem hardlyworthy of the notice of an intelligent reader, who looks for a goodcut-throat or highwayman for a hero, or a pickpocket at the very least:this gentleman's words and actions should be carefully studied by thepublic, as he is destined to appear before them under very polite andcurious circumstances during the course of this history. The speech ofthe rustic Juvenal, Mr. Clodpole, had seemed to infer that Hayes was atonce careful of his money and a warm admirer of Mrs. Catherine of the"Bugle:" and both the charges were perfectly true. Hayes's fatherwas reported to be a man of some substance; and young John, who wasperforming his apprenticeship in the village, did not fail to talk verybig of his pretensions to fortune--of his entering, at the close of hisindentures, into partnership with his father--and of the comfortablefarm and house over which Mrs. John Hayes, whoever she might be, wouldone day preside. Thus, next to the barber and butcher, and above evenhis own master, Mr. Hayes took rank in the village: and it must not beconcealed that his representation of wealth had made some impressionupon Mrs. Hall toward whom the young gentleman had cast the eyes ofaffection. If he had been tolerably well-looking, and not pale, rickety, and feeble as he was; if even he had been ugly, but withal a man ofspirit, it is probable the girl's kindness for him would have beenmuch more decided. But he was a poor weak creature, not to comparewith honest Thomas Bullock, by at least nine inches; and so notoriouslytimid, selfish, and stingy, that there was a kind of shame in receivinghis addresses openly; and what encouragement Mrs. Catherine gave himcould only be in secret. 

But no mortal is wise at all times: and the fact was, that Hayes, whocared for himself intensely, had set his heart upon winning Catherine;and loved her with a desperate greedy eagerness and desire ofpossession, which makes passions for women often so fierce andunreasonable among very cold and selfish men. His parents (whosefrugality he had inherited) had tried in vain to wean him from thispassion, and had made many fruitless attempts to engage him with womenwho possessed money and desired husbands; but Hayes was, for a wonder, quite proof against their attractions; and, though quite readyto acknowledge the absurdity of his love for a penniless alehouseservant-girl, nevertheless persisted in it doggedly. "I know I'm afool, " said he; "and what's more, the girl does not care for me; butmarry her I must, or I think I shall just die: and marry her I will. "For very much to the credit of Miss Catherine's modesty, she haddeclared that marriage was with her a sine qua non, and had dismissed, with the loudest scorn and indignation, all propositions of a lessproper nature. 

Poor Thomas Bullock was another of her admirers, and had offered tomarry her; but three shillings a week and a puddn was not to the girl'staste, and Thomas had been scornfully rejected. Hayes had also made hera direct proposal. Catherine did not say no: she was too prudent: butshe was young and could wait; she did not care for Mr. Hayes yet enoughto marry him--(it did not seem, indeed, in the young woman's nature tocare for anybody)--and she gave her adorer flatteringly to understandthat, if nobody better appeared in the course of a few years, she mightbe induced to become Mrs. Hayes. It was a dismal prospect for thepoor fellow to live upon the hope of being one day Mrs. Catherine'spis-aller. 

In the meantime she considered herself free as the wind, and permittedherself all the innocent gaieties which that "chartered libertine, " acoquette, can take. She flirted with all the bachelors, widowers, andmarried men, in a manner which did extraordinary credit to her years:and let not the reader fancy such pastimes unnatural at her early age. The ladies--Heaven bless them!--are, as a general rule, coquettes frombabyhood upwards. Little SHE'S of three years old play little airs andgraces upon small heroes of five; simpering misses of nine make attacksupon young gentlemen of twelve; and at sixteen, a well-grown girl, underencouraging circumstances--say, she is pretty, in a family of ugly eldersisters, or an only child and heiress, or a humble wench at a countryinn, like our fair Catherine--is at the very pink and prime of hercoquetry: they will jilt you at that age with an ease and arch infantinesimplicity that never can be surpassed in maturer years. 

Miss Catherine, then, was a franche coquette, and Mr. John Hayes wasmiserable. His life was passed in a storm of mean passions and bitterjealousies, and desperate attacks upon the indifference-rock of Mrs. Catherine's heart, which not all his tempest of love could beat down. Ocruel cruel pangs of love unrequited! Mean rogues feel them as well asgreat heroes. Lives there the man in Europe who has not felt them manytimes?--who has not knelt, and fawned, and supplicated, and wept, andcursed, and raved, all in vain; and passed long wakeful nights withghosts of dead hopes for company; shadows of buried remembrances thatglide out of their graves of nights, and whisper, "We are dead now, but we WERE once; and we made you happy, and we come now to mockyou:--despair, O lover, despair, and die"?--O cruel pangs!--dismalnights!--Now a sly demon creeps under your nightcap, and drops intoyour ear those soft hope-breathing sweet words, uttered on thewell-remembered evening: there, in the drawer of your dressing-table(along with the razors, and Macassar oil), lies the dead flower thatLady Amelia Wilhelmina wore in her bosom on the night of a certainball--the corpse of a glorious hope that seemed once as if it would livefor ever, so strong was it, so full of joy and sunshine: there, inyour writing-desk, among a crowd of unpaid bills, is the dirty scrap ofpaper, thimble-sealed, which came in company with a pair of muffetees ofher knitting (she was a butcher's daughter, and did all she could, poorthing!), begging "you would ware them at collidge, and think of herwho"--married a public-house three weeks afterwards, and cares for youno more now than she does for the pot-boy. But why multiply instances, or seek to depict the agony of poor mean-spirited John Hayes? No mistakecan be greater than that of fancying such great emotions of love areonly felt by virtuous or exalted men: depend upon it, Love, like Death, plays havoc among the pauperum tabernas, and sports with rich and poor, wicked and virtuous, alike. I have often fancied, for instance, onseeing the haggard pale young old-clothesman, who wakes the echoes ofour street with his nasal cry of "Clo'!"--I have often, I said, fanciedthat, besides the load of exuvial coats and breeches under whichhe staggers, there is another weight on him--an atrior cura at histail--and while his unshorn lips and nose together are performing thatmocking, boisterous, Jack-indifferent cry of "Clo', clo'!" who knowswhat woeful utterances are crying from the heart within? There he is, chaffering with the footman at No. 7 about an old dressing-gown: youthink his whole soul is bent only on the contest about the garment. Psha! there is, perhaps, some faithless girl in Holywell Street whofills up his heart; and that desultory Jew-boy is a peripatetic hell!Take another instance:--take the man in the beef-shop in Saint Martin'sCourt. There he is, to all appearances quite calm: before the same roundof beef--from morning till sundown--for hundreds of years very likely. Perhaps when the shutters are closed, and all the world tired andsilent, there is HE silent, but untired--cutting, cutting, cutting. Youenter, you get your meat to your liking, you depart; and, quite unmoved, on, on he goes, reaping ceaselessly the Great Harvest of Beef. You wouldfancy that if Passion ever failed to conquer, it had in vain assailedthe calm bosom of THAT MAN. I doubt it, and would give much to know hishistory. 

Who knows what furious Aetna-flames are raging underneath the surface ofthat calm flesh-mountain--who can tell me that that calmness itself isnot DESPAIR?

 *****

The reader, if he does not now understand why it was that Mr. Hayesagreed to drink the Corporal's proffered beer, had better just read theforegoing remarks over again, and if he does not understand THEN, why, small praise to his brains. Hayes could not bear that Mr. Bullock shouldhave a chance of seeing, and perhaps making love to Mrs. Catherine inhis absence; and though the young woman never diminished her coquetries, but, on the contrary, rather increased them in his presence, it wasstill a kind of dismal satisfaction to be miserable in her company. 

On this occasion, the disconsolate lover could be wretched to hisheart's content; for Catherine had not a word or a look for him, butbestowed all her smiles upon the handsome stranger who owned the blackhorse. As for poor Tummas Bullock, his passion was never violent; andhe was content in the present instance to sigh and drink beer. He sighedand drank, sighed and drank, and drank again, until he had swallowed somuch of the Corporal's liquor, as to be induced to accept a guinea fromhis purse also; and found himself, on returning to reason and sobriety, a soldier of Queen Anne's. 

But oh! fancy the agonies of Mr. Hayes when, seated with the Corporal'sfriends at one end of the kitchen, he saw the Captain at the place ofhonour, and the smiles which the fair maid bestowed upon him; when, asshe lightly whisked past him with the Captain's supper, she, pointingto the locket that once reposed on the breast of the Dutch lady at theBrill, looked archly on Hayes and said, "See, John, what his Lordshiphas given me;" and when John's face became green and purple withrage and jealousy, Mrs. Catherine laughed ten times louder, and cried"Coming, my Lord, " in a voice of shrill triumph, that bored through thesoul of Mr. John Hayes and left him gasping for breath. 

On Catherine's other lover, Mr. Thomas, this coquetry had no effect: he, and two comrades of his, had by this time quite fallen under the spellof the Corporal; and hope, glory, strong beer, Prince Eugene, pair ofcolours, more strong beer, her blessed Majesty, plenty more strong beer, and such subjects, martial and bacchic, whirled through their dizzybrains at a railroad pace. 

And now, if there had been a couple of experienced reporters present atthe "Bugle Inn, " they might have taken down a conversation on loveand war--the two themes discussed by the two parties occupying thekitchen--which, as the parts were sung together, duetwise, formedtogether some very curious harmonies. Thus, while the Captain waswhispering the softest nothings, the Corporal was shouting the fiercestcombats of the war; and, like the gentleman at Penelope's table, on itexiguo pinxit praelia tota bero. For example:

CAPTAIN. What do you say to a silver trimming, pretty Catherine? Don'tyou think a scarlet riding-cloak, handsomely laced, would become youwonderfully well?--and a grey hat with a blue feather--and a pretty nagto ride on--and all the soldiers to present arms as you pass, and say, "There goes the Captain's lady"? What do you think of a side-box atLincoln's Inn playhouse, or of standing up to a minuet with my LordMarquis at--?

CORPORAL. The ball, sir, ran right up his elbow, and was found the nextday by Surgeon Splinter of ours, --where do you think, sir?--upon myhonour as a gentleman it came out of the nape of his--

CAPTAIN. Necklace--and a sweet pair of diamond earrings, mayhap--and alittle shower of patches, which ornament a lady's face wondrously--anda leetle rouge--though, egad! such peach-cheeks as yours don't wantit;--fie! Mrs. Catherine, I should think the birds must come and peck atthem as if they were fruit--

CORPORAL. Over the wall; and three-and-twenty of our fellows jumpedafter me. By the Pope of Rome, friend Tummas, that was a day!--Had youseen how the Mounseers looked when four-and-twenty rampaging he-devils, sword and pistol, cut and thrust, pell-mell came tumbling into theredoubt! Why, sir, we left in three minutes as many artillerymen's headsas there were cannon-balls. It was, "Ah sacre!" "D----- you, take that!""O mon Dieu!" "Run him through!" "Ventrebleu!" and it WAS ventrebleuwith him, I warrant you; for bleu, in the French language, means"through;" and ventre--why, you see, ventre means--

CAPTAIN. Waists, which are worn now excessive long; and for the hoops, if you COULD but see them--stap my vitals, my dear, but there was a ladyat Warwick's Assembly (she came in one of my Lord's coaches) who had ahoop as big as a tent: you might have dined under it comfortably;--ha!ha! 'pon my faith, now--

CORPORAL. And there we found the Duke of Marlborough seated along withMarshal Tallard, who was endeavouring to drown his sorrow over a cup ofJohannisberger wine; and a good drink too, my lads, only not to compareto Warwick beer. "Who was the man who has done this?" said our nobleGeneral. I stepped up. "How many heads was it, " says he, "that you cutoff?" "Nineteen, " says I, "besides wounding several. " When he heard it(Mr. Hayes, you don't drink) I'm blest if he didn't burst into tears!"Noble noble fellow, " says he. "Marshal, you must excuse me if I ampleased to hear of the destruction of your countrymen. Noble noblefellow!--here's a hundred guineas for you. " Which sum he placed in myhand. "Nay, " says the Marshal "the man has done his duty:" and, pullingout a magnificent gold diamond-hilted snuff-box, he gave me--

MR. BULLOCK. What, a goold snuff-box? Wauns, but thee WAST in luck, Corporal!

CORPORAL. No, not the snuff-box, but--A PINCH OF SNUFF, --ha! ha!--run methrough the body if he didn't. Could you but have seen the smile onJack Churchill's grave face at this piece of generosity! So, beckoningColonel Cadogan up to him, he pinched his Ear and whispered--

CAPTAIN. "May I have the honour to dance a minuet with your Ladyship?"The whole room was in titters at Jack's blunder; for, as you know verywell, poor Lady Susan HAS A WOODEN LEG. Ha! ha! fancy a minuet and awooden leg, hey, my dear?--

MRS. CATHERINE. Giggle--giggle--giggle: he! he! he! Oh, Captain, yourogue, you--

SECOND TABLE. Haw! haw! haw! Well you be a foony mon, Sergeant, zureenoff. 

 *****

This little specimen of the conversation must be sufficient. It willshow pretty clearly that EACH of the two military commanders wasconducting his operations with perfect success. Three of the detachmentof five attacked by the Corporal surrendered to him: Mr. Bullock, namely, who gave in at a very early stage of the evening, andignominiously laid down his arms under the table, after standing notmore than a dozen volleys of beer; Mr. Blacksmith's boy, and a labourerwhose name we have not been able to learn. Mr. Butcher himself was onthe point of yielding, when he was rescued by the furious charge of adetachment that marched to his relief: his wife namely, who, with twosqualling children, rushed into the "Bugle, " boxed Butcher's ears, andkept up such a tremendous fire of oaths and screams upon the Corporal, that he was obliged to retreat. Fixing then her claws into Mr. Butcher'shair, she proceeded to drag him out of the premises; and thus Mr. Brockwas overcome. His attack upon John Hayes was a still greater failure;for that young man seemed to be invincible by drink, if not by love:and at the end of the drinking-bout was a great deal more cool thanthe Corporal himself; to whom he wished a very polite good-evening, ascalmly he took his hat to depart. He turned to look at Catherine, to besure, and then he was not quite so calm: but Catherine did not give anyreply to his good-night. She was seated at the Captain's table playingat cribbage with him; and though Count Gustavus Maximilian lost everygame, he won more than he lost, --sly fellow!--and Mrs. Catherine was nomatch for him. 

It is to be presumed that Hayes gave some information to Mrs. Score, the landlady: for, on leaving the kitchen, he was seen to linger for amoment in the bar; and very soon after Mrs. Catherine was called awayfrom her attendance on the Count, who, when he asked for a sack andtoast, was furnished with those articles by the landlady herself: and, during the half-hour in which he was employed in consuming this drink, Monsieur de Galgenstein looked very much disturbed and out of humour, and cast his eyes to the door perpetually; but no Catherine came. Atlast, very sulkily, he desired to be shown to bed, and walked as well ashe could (for, to say truth, the noble Count was by this time somewhatunsteady on his legs) to his chamber. It was Mrs. Score who showedhim to it, and closed the curtains, and pointed triumphantly to thewhiteness of the sheets. 

"It's a very comfortable room, " said she, "though not the best in thehouse; which belong of right to your Lordship's worship; but ourbest room has two beds, and Mr. Corporal is in that, locked anddouble-locked, with his three tipsy recruits. But your honour will findthis here bed comfortable and well-aired; I've slept in it myself thiseighteen years. "

"What, my good woman, you are going to sit up, eh? It's cruel hard onyou, madam. "

"Sit up, my Lord? bless you, no! I shall have half of our Cat's bed; asI always do when there's company. " And with this Mrs. Score curtseyedand retired. 

Very early the next morning the active landlady and her bustlingattendant had prepared the ale and bacon for the Corporal and his threeconverts, and had set a nice white cloth for the Captain's breakfast. The young blacksmith did not eat with much satisfaction; but Mr. Bullockand his friend betrayed no sign of discontent, except such as may beconsequent upon an evening's carouse. They walked very contentedly to beregistered before Doctor Dobbs, who was also justice of the peace, andwent in search of their slender bundles, and took leave of their fewacquaintances without much regret: for the gentlemen had been bred inthe workhouse, and had not, therefore, a large circle of friends. 

It wanted only an hour of noon, and the noble Count had not descended. The men were waiting for him, and spent much of the Queen's money(earned by the sale of their bodies overnight) while thus expecting him. Perhaps Mrs. Catherine expected him too, for she had offered many timesto run up--with my Lord's boots--with the hot water--to show Mr. Brockthe way; who sometimes condescended to officiate as barber. But on allthese occasions Mrs. Score had prevented her; not scolding, but withmuch gentleness and smiling. At last, more gentle and smiling than ever, she came downstairs and said, "Catherine darling, his honour the Countis mighty hungry this morning, and vows he could pick the wing of afowl. Run down, child, to Farmer Brigg's and get one: pluck itbefore you bring it, you know, and we will make his Lordship a prettybreakfast. "

Catherine took up her basket, and away she went by the back-yard, through the stables. There she heard the little horse-boy whistling andhissing after the manner of horseboys; and there she learned that Mrs. Score had been inventing an ingenious story to have her out of the way. The ostler said he was just going to lead the two horses round to thedoor. The Corporal had been, and they were about to start on the instantfor Stratford. 

The fact was that Count Gustavus Adolphus, far from wishing to pick thewing of a fowl, had risen with a horror and loathing for everything inthe shape of food, and for any liquor stronger than small beer. Of thishe had drunk a cup, and said he should ride immediately to Stratford;and when, on ordering his horses, he had asked politely of the landlady"why the d---- SHE always came up, and why she did not send the girl, "Mrs. Score informed the Count that her Catherine was gone out for a walkalong with the young man to whom she was to be married, and would notbe visible that day. On hearing this the Captain ordered his horsesthat moment, and abused the wine, the bed, the house, the landlady, andeverything connected with the "Bugle Inn. "

Out the horses came: the little boys of the village gathered round; therecruits, with bunches of ribands in their beavers, appeared presently;Corporal Brock came swaggering out, and, slapping the pleased blacksmithon the back, bade him mount his horse; while the boys hurrah'd. Then theCaptain came out, gloomy and majestic; to him Mr. Brock made a militarysalute, which clumsily, and with much grinning, the recruits imitated. "I shall walk on with these brave fellows, your honour, and meet you atStratford, " said the Corporal. "Good, " said the Captain, as hemounted. The landlady curtseyed; the children hurrah'd more; the littlehorse-boy, who held the bridle with one hand and the stirrup with theother, and expected a crown-piece from such a noble gentleman, got onlya kick and a curse, as Count von Galgenstein shouted, "D----- you all, get out of the way!" and galloped off; and John Hayes, who had beensneaking about the inn all the morning, felt a weight off his heart whenhe saw the Captain ride off alone. 

O foolish Mrs. Score! O dolt of a John Hayes! If the landlady hadallowed the Captain and the maid to have their way, and meet but for aminute before recruits, sergeant, and all, it is probable that noharm would have been done, and that this history would never have beenwritten. 

When Count von Galgenstein had ridden half a mile on the Stratford road, looking as black and dismal as Napoleon galloping from the romanticvillage of Waterloo, he espied, a few score yards onwards, at theturn of the road, a certain object which caused him to check his horsesuddenly, brought a tingling red into his cheeks, and made his heart togo thump--thump! against his side. A young lass was sauntering slowlyalong the footpath, with a basket swinging from one hand, and a bunch ofhedge-flowers in the other. She stopped once or twice to add a fresh oneto her nosegay, and might have seen him, the Captain thought; butno, she never looked directly towards him, and still walked on. Sweetinnocent! she was singing as if none were near; her voice went soaringup to the clear sky, and the Captain put his horse on the grass, thatthe sound of the hoofs might not disturb the music. 

 "When the kine had given a pailful, And the sheep came bleating home, Poll, who knew it would be healthful, Went a-walking out with Tom. Hand in hand, sir, on the land, sir, As they walked to and fro, Tom made jolly love to Polly, But was answered no, no, no. "

The Captain had put his horse on the grass, that the sound of his hoofsmight not disturb the music; and now he pushed its head on to the bank, where straightway "George of Denmark" began chewing of such a saladas grew there. And now the Captain slid off stealthily; and smilingcomically, and hitching up his great jack-boots, and moving forward witha jerking tiptoe step, he, just as she was trilling the last o-o-oof the last no in the above poem of Tom D'Urfey, came up to her, andtouching her lightly on the waist, said, "My dear, your very humble servant. "

Mrs. Catherine (you know you have found her out long ago!) gave a screamand a start, and would have turned pale if she could. As it was, sheonly shook all over, and said, "Oh, sir, how you DID frighten me!"

"Frighten you, my rosebud! why, run me through, I'd die rather thanfrighten you. Gad, child, tell me now, am I so VERY frightful?"

"Oh no, your honour, I didn't mean that; only I wasn't thinking to meetyou here, or that you would ride so early at all: for, if you please, sir, I was going to fetch a chicken for your Lordship's breakfast, asmy mistress said you would like one; and I thought, instead of going toFarmer Brigg's, down Birmingham way, as she told me, I'd go to FarmerBird's, where the chickens is better, sir, --my Lord, I mean. "

"Said I'd like a chicken for breakfast, the old cat! why, I told herI would not eat a morsel to save me--I was so dru--I mean I ate such agood supper last night--and I bade her to send me a pot of small beer, and to tell you to bring it; and the wretch said you were gone out withyour sweetheart--"

"What! John Hayes, the creature? Oh, what a naughty story-tellingwoman!"

"--You had walked out with your sweetheart, and I was not to see youany more; and I was mad with rage, and ready to kill myself; I was, mydear. "

"Oh, sir! pray, PRAY don't. "

"For your sake, my sweet angel?"

"Yes, for my sake, if such a poor girl as me can persuade noblegentlemen. "

"Well, then, for YOUR sake, I won't; no, I'll live; but why live? Helland fury, if I do live I'm miserable without you; I am, --you know Iam, --you adorable, beautiful, cruel, wicked Catherine!"

Catherine's reply to this was "La, bless me! I do believe your horse isrunning away. " And so he was! for having finished his meal in the hedge, he first looked towards his master and paused, as it were, irresolutely;then, by a sudden impulse, flinging up his tail and his hind legs, hescampered down the road. 

Mrs. Hall ran lightly after the horse, and the Captain after Mrs. Hall;and the horse ran quicker and quicker every moment, and might have ledthem a long chase, --when lo! debouching from a twist in the road, camethe detachment of cavalry and infantry under Mr. Brock. The momenthe was out of sight of the village, that gentleman had desired theblacksmith to dismount, and had himself jumped into the saddle, maintaining the subordination of his army by drawing a pistol andswearing that he would blow out the brains of any person who attemptedto run. When the Captain's horse came near the detachment he paused, andsuffered himself to be caught by Tummas Bullock, who held him until theowner and Mrs. Catherine came up. 

Mr. Bullock looked comically grave when he saw the pair; but theCorporal graciously saluted Mrs. Catherine, and said it was a fine dayfor walking. 

"La, sir, and so it is, " said she, panting in a very pretty anddistressing way, "but not for RUNNING. I do protest--ha!--and vow thatI really can scarcely stand. I'm so tired of running after that naughtynaughty horse!"

"How do, Cattern?" said Thomas. "Zee, I be going a zouldiering becausethee wouldn't have me. " And here Mr. Bullock grinned. Mrs. Catherinemade no sort of reply, but protested once more she should die ofrunning. If the truth were told, she was somewhat vexed at the arrivalof the Corporal's detachment, and had had very serious thoughts offinding herself quite tired just as he came in sight. 

A sudden thought brought a smile of bright satisfaction in the Captain'seyes. He mounted the horse which Tummas still held. "TIRED, MrsCatherine, " said he, "and for my sake? By heavens! you shan't walk astep farther. No, you shall ride back with a guard of honour! Back tothe village, gentlemen!--rightabout face! Show those fellows, Corporal, how to rightabout face. Now, my dear, mount behind me on Snowball; he'seasy as a sedan. Put your dear little foot on the toe of my boot. Therenow, --up!--jump! hurrah!"

"THAT'S not the way, Captain, " shouted out Thomas, still holding on tothe rein as the horse began to move. "Thee woan't goo with him, willthee, Catty?"

But Mrs. Catherine, though she turned away her head, never let go herhold round the Captain's waist; and he, swearing a dreadful oath atThomas, struck him across the face and hands with his riding whip. Thepoor fellow, who at the first cut still held on to the rein, dropped itat the second, and as the pair galloped off, sat down on the roadsideand fairly began to weep. 

"MARCH, you dog!" shouted out the Corporal a minute after. And so hedid: and when next he saw Mrs. Catherine she WAS the Captain's lady sureenough, and wore a grey hat, with a blue feather, and red riding-coattrimmed with silverlace. But Thomas was then on a bare-backed horse, which Corporal Brock was flanking round a ring, and he was so occupiedlooking between his horse's ears that he had no time to cry then, and atlength got the better of his attachment. 

 *****

This being a good opportunity for closing Chapter I, we ought, perhaps, to make some apologies to the public for introducing them to charactersthat are so utterly worthless; as we confess all our heroes, with theexception of Mr. Bullock, to be. In this we have consulted nature andhistory, rather than the prevailing taste and the general manner ofauthors. The amusing novel of "Ernest Maltravers, " for instance, openswith a seduction; but then it is performed by people of the strictestvirtue on both sides: and there is so much religion and philosophy inthe heart of the seducer, so much tender innocence in the soul of theseduced, that--bless the little dears!--their very peccadilloes makeone interested in them; and their naughtiness becomes quite sacred, sodeliciously is it described. Now, if we ARE to be interested by rascallyactions, let us have them with plain faces, and let them be performed, not by virtuous philosophers, but by rascals. Another clever class ofnovelists adopt the contrary system, and create interest by making theirrascals perform virtuous actions. Against these popular plans we heresolemnly appeal. We say, let your rogues in novels act like rogues, and your honest men like honest men; don't let us have any jugglingand thimble-rigging with virtue and vice, so that, at the end of threevolumes, the bewildered reader shall not know which is which; don't letus find ourselves kindling at the generous qualities of thieves, andsympathising with the rascalities of noble hearts. For our own part, weknow what the public likes, and have chosen rogues for our characters, and have taken a story from the "Newgate Calendar, " which we hope tofollow out to edification. Among the rogues, at least, we will havenothing that shall be mistaken for virtues. And if the British public(after calling for three or four editions) shall give up, not only ourrascals, but the rascals of all other authors, we shall be content:--weshall apply to Government for a pension, and think that our duty isdone. 

CHAPTER II. IN WHICH ARE DEPICTED THE PLEASURES OF A SENTIMENTALATTACHMENT. 

It will not be necessary, for the purpose of this history, to follow outvery closely all the adventures which occurred to Mrs. Catherine fromthe period when she quitted the "Bugle" and became the Captain's lady;for although it would be just as easy to show as not, that the youngwoman, by following the man of her heart, had only yielded to aninnocent impulse, and by remaining with him for a certain period, hadproved the depth and strength of her affection for him, --although wemight make very tender and eloquent apologies for the error of bothparties, the reader might possibly be disgusted at such descriptionsand such arguments: which, besides, are already done to his hand in thenovel of "Ernest Maltravers" before mentioned. 

From the gentleman's manner towards Mrs. Catherine, and from hisbrilliant and immediate success, the reader will doubtless haveconcluded, in the first place, that Gustavus Adolphus had not a veryviolent affection for Mrs. Cat; in the second place, that he was aprofessional lady-killer, and therefore likely at some period to resumehis profession; thirdly, and to conclude, that a connection so begun, must, in the nature of things, be likely to end speedily. 

And so, to do the Count justice, it would, if he had been allowed tofollow his own inclination entirely; for (as many young gentlemen will, and yet no praise to them) in about a week he began to be indifferent, in a month to be weary, in two months to be angry, in three to proceedto blows and curses; and, in short, to repent most bitterly the hourwhen he had ever been induced to present Mrs. Catherine the toe of hisboot, for the purpose of lifting her on to his horse. 

"Egad!" said he to the Corporal one day, when confiding his griefs toMr. Brock, "I wish my toe had been cut off before ever it served as aladder to this little vixen. "

"Or perhaps your honour would wish to kick her downstairs with it?"delicately suggested Mr. Brock. 

"Kick her! why, the wench would hold so fast by the banisters that ICOULD not kick her down, Mr. Brock. To tell you a bit of a secret, IHAVE tried as much--not to kick her--no, no, not kick her, certainly:that's ungentlemanly--but to INDUCE her to go back to that cursedpot-house where we fell in with her. I have given her many hints--"

"Oh, yes, I saw your honour give her one yesterday--with a mug of beer. By the laws, as the ale run all down her face, and she clutched a knifeto run at you, I don't think I ever saw such a she-devil! That womanwill do for your honour some day, if you provoke her. "

"Do for ME? No, hang it, Mr. Brock, never! She loves every hair of myhead, sir: she worships me, Corporal. Egad, yes! she worships me; andwould much sooner apply a knife to her own weasand than scratch mylittle finger!"

"I think she does, " said Mr. Brock. 

"I'm sure of it, " said the Captain. "Women, look you, are like dogs, they like to be ill-treated: they like it, sir; I know they do. I neverhad anything to do with a woman in my life but I ill-treated her, andshe liked me the better. "

"Mrs. Hall ought to be VERY fond of you then, sure enough!" said Mr. Corporal. 

"Very fond;--ha, ha! Corporal, you wag you--and so she IS very fond. Yesterday, after the knife-and-beer scene--no wonder I threw the liquorin her face: it was so dev'lish flat that no gentleman could drink it:and I told her never to draw it till dinner-time--"

"Oh, it was enough to put an angel in a fury!" said Brock. 

"Well, yesterday, after the knife business, when you had got the carverout of her hand, off she flings to her bedroom, will not eat a bit ofdinner forsooth, and remains locked up for a couple of hours. Attwo o'clock afternoon (I was over a tankard), out comes the littleshe-devil, her face pale, her eyes bleared, and the tip of her nose asred as fire with sniffling and weeping. Making for my hand, 'Max, ' saysshe, 'will you forgive me?' 'What!' says I. 'Forgive a murderess?'says I. 'No, curse me, never!' 'Your cruelty will kill me, ' sobbed she. 'Cruelty be hanged!' says I; 'didn't you draw that beer an hour beforedinner?' She could say nothing to THIS, you know, and I swore that everytime she did so, I would fling it into her face again. Whereuponback she flounced to her chamber, where she wept and stormed untilnight-time. "

"When you forgave her?"

"I DID forgive her, that's positive. You see I had supped at the 'Rose'along with Tom Trippet and half-a-dozen pretty fellows; and I had easeda great fat-headed Warwickshire landjunker--what d'ye call him?--squire, of forty pieces; and I'm dev'lish good-humoured when I've won, and soCat and I made it up: but I've taught her never to bring me stale beeragain--ha, ha!"

This conversation will explain, a great deal better than any descriptionof ours, however eloquent, the state of things as between CountMaximilian and Mrs. Catherine, and the feelings which they entertainedfor each other. The woman loved him, that was the fact. And, as we haveshown in the previous chapter how John Hayes, a mean-spirited fellowas ever breathed, in respect of all other passions a pigmy, was in thepassion of love a giant, and followed Mrs. Catherine with a furiouslonging which might seem at the first to be foreign to his nature; inthe like manner, and playing at cross-purposes, Mrs. Hall had becomesmitten of the Captain; and, as he said truly, only liked him the betterfor the brutality which she received at his hands. For it is my opinion, madam, that love is a bodily infirmity, from which humankind can no moreescape than from small-pox; and which attacks every one of us, from thefirst duke in the Peerage down to Jack Ketch inclusive: which has norespect for rank, virtue, or roguery in man, but sets each in his turnin a fever; which breaks out the deuce knows how or why, and, raging itsappointed time, fills each individual of the one sex with a blindfury and longing for some one of the other (who may be pure, gentle, blue-eyed, beautiful, and good; or vile, shrewish, squinting, hunchbacked, and hideous, according to circumstances and luck); whichdies away, perhaps, in the natural course, if left to have its way, but which contradiction causes to rage more furiously than ever. Is nothistory, from the Trojan war upwards and downwards, full of instances ofsuch strange inexplicable passions? Was not Helen, by the most moderatecalculation, ninety years of age when she went off with His RoyalHighness Prince Paris of Troy? Was not Madame La Valliere ill-made, blear-eyed, tallow-complexioned, scraggy, and with hair like tow? Wasnot Wilkes the ugliest, charmingest, most successful man in the world?Such instances might be carried out so as to fill a volume; but cuibono? Love is fate, and not will; its origin not to be explained, itsprogress irresistible: and the best proof of this may be had at BowStreet any day, where if you ask any officer of the establishment howthey take most thieves, he will tell you at the houses of the women. They must see the dear creatures though they hang for it; they willlove, though they have their necks in the halter. And with regard to theother position, that ill-usage on the part of the man does not destroythe affection of the woman, have we not numberless police-reports, showing how, when a bystander would beat a husband for beating his wife, man and wife fall together on the interloper and punish him for hismeddling?

These points, then, being settled to the satisfaction of all parties, the reader will not be disposed to question the assertion that Mrs. Hallhad a real affection for the gallant Count, and grew, as Mr. Brock waspleased to say, like a beefsteak, more tender as she was thumped. Poorthing, poor thing! his flashy airs and smart looks had overcome her ina single hour; and no more is wanted to plunge into love over head andears; no more is wanted to make a first love with--and a woman's firstlove lasts FOR EVER (a man's twenty-fourth or twenty-fifth is perhapsthe best): you can't kill it, do what you will; it takes root, and livesand even grows, never mind what the soil may be in which it is planted, or the bitter weather it must bear--often as one has seen a wallflowergrow--out of a stone. 

In the first weeks of their union, the Count had at least been liberalto her: she had a horse and fine clothes, and received abroad some ofthose flattering attentions which she held at such high price. He had, however, some ill-luck at play, or had been forced to pay some bills, orhad some other satisfactory reason for being poor, and his establishmentwas very speedily diminished. He argued that, as Mrs. Catherine hadbeen accustomed to wait on others all her life, she might now wait uponherself and him; and when the incident of the beer arose, she hadbeen for some time employed as the Count's housekeeper, with unlimitedsuperintendence over his comfort, his cellar, his linen, and suchmatters as bachelors are delighted to make over to active female hands. To do the poor wretch justice, she actually kept the man's menage in thebest order; nor was there any point of extravagance with which she couldbe charged, except a little extravagance of dress displayed on thevery few occasions when he condescended to walk abroad with her, andextravagance of language and passion in the frequent quarrels theyhad together. Perhaps in such a connection as subsisted between thisprecious couple, these faults are inevitable on the part of the woman. She must be silly and vain, and will pretty surely therefore be fond ofdress; and she must, disguise it as she will, be perpetually miserableand brooding over her fall, which will cause her to be violent andquarrelsome. 

Such, at least, was Mrs. Hall; and very early did the poor vainmisguided wretch begin to reap what she had sown. 

For a man, remorse under these circumstances is perhaps uncommon. No stigma affixes on HIM for betraying a woman; no bitter pangs ofmortified vanity; no insulting looks of superiority from his neighbour, and no sentence of contemptuous banishment is read against him; theseall fall on the tempted, and not on the tempter, who is permitted togo free. The chief thing that a man learns after having successfullypractised on a woman is to despise the poor wretch whom he has won. The game, in fact, and the glory, such as it is, is all his, and thepunishment alone falls upon her. Consider this, ladies, when charmingyoung gentlemen come to woo you with soft speeches. You have nothing towin, except wretchedness, and scorn, and desertion. Consider this, andbe thankful to your Solomons for telling it. 

It came to pass, then, that the Count had come to have a perfectcontempt and indifference for Mrs. Hall;--how should he not for a youngperson who had given herself up to him so easily?--and would have beenquite glad of any opportunity of parting with her. But there was acertain lingering shame about the man, which prevented him from sayingat once and abruptly, "Go!" and the poor thing did not choose to takesuch hints as fell out in the course of their conversation and quarrels. And so they kept on together, he treating her with simple insult, andshe hanging on desperately, by whatever feeble twig she could find, tothe rock beyond which all was naught, or death, to her. 

Well, after the night with Tom Trippet and the pretty fellows at the"Rose, " to which we have heard the Count allude in the conversationjust recorded, Fortune smiled on him a good deal; for the Warwickshiresquire, who had lost forty pieces on that occasion, insisted on havinghis revenge the night after; when, strange to say, a hundred and fiftymore found their way into the pouch of his Excellency the Count. Such asum as this quite set the young nobleman afloat again, and brought backa pleasing equanimity to his mind, which had been a good deal disturbedin the former difficult circumstances; and in this, for a little and toa certain extent, poor Cat had the happiness to share. He did not alterthe style of his establishment, which consisted, as before, of herselfand a small person who acted as scourer, kitchen-wench, and scullion;Mrs. Catherine always putting her hand to the principal pieces of thedinner; but he treated his mistress with tolerable good-humour; or, tospeak more correctly, with such bearable brutality as might be expectedfrom a man like him to a woman in her condition. Besides, a certainevent was about to take place, which not unusually occurs incircumstances of this nature, and Mrs. Catherine was expecting soon tolie in. 

The Captain, distrusting naturally the strength of his own paternalfeelings, had kindly endeavoured to provide a parent for the cominginfant; and to this end had opened a negotiation with our friend Mr. Thomas Bullock, declaring that Mrs. Cat should have a fortune of twentyguineas, and reminding Tummas of his ancient flame for her: but Mr. Tummas, when this proposition was made to him, declined it, with manyoaths, and vowed that he was perfectly satisfied with his presentbachelor condition. In this dilemma, Mr. Brock stepped forward, whodeclared himself very ready to accept Mrs. Catherine and her fortune:and might possibly have become the possessor of both, had not Mrs. Cat, the moment she heard of the proposed arrangement, with fire in her eyes, and rage--oh, how bitter!--in her heart, prevented the success of themeasure by proceeding incontinently to the first justice of the peace, and there swearing before his worship who was the father of the comingchild. 

This proceeding, which she had expected would cause not a littleindignation on the part of her lord and master, was received by him, strangely enough, with considerable good-humour: he swore that the wenchhad served him a good trick, and was rather amused at the anger, theoutbreak of fierce rage and contumely, and the wretched wretched tearsof heartsick desperation, which followed her announcement of this stepto him. For Mr. Brock, she repelled his offer with scorn and loathing, and treated the notion of a union with Mr. Bullock with yet fiercercontempt. Marry him indeed! a workhouse pauper carrying a brown-bess!She would have died sooner, she said, or robbed on the highway. And so, to do her justice, she would: for the little minx was one of the vainestcreatures in existence, and vanity (as I presume everybody knows)becomes THE principle in certain women's hearts--their moral spectacles, their conscience, their meat and drink, their only rule of right andwrong. 

As for Mr. Tummas, he, as we have seen, was quite unfriendly to theproposition as she could be; and the Corporal, with a good deal ofcomical gravity, vowed that, as he could not be satisfied in hisdearest wishes, he would take to drinking for a consolation: which hestraightway did. 

"Come, Tummas, " said he to Mr. Bullock "since we CAN'T have the girlof our hearts, why, hang it, Tummas, let's drink her health!" To whichBullock had no objection. And so strongly did the disappointment weighupon honest Corporal Brock, that even when, after unheard-of quantitiesof beer, he could scarcely utter a word, he was seen absolutely to weep, and, in accents almost unintelligible, to curse his confounded ill-luckat being deprived, not of a wife, but of a child: he wanted one so, hesaid, to comfort him in his old age. 

The time of Mrs. Catherine's couche drew near, arrived, and was gonethrough safely. She presented to the world a chopping boy, who mightuse, if he liked, the Galgenstein arms with a bar-sinister; and inher new cares and duties had not so many opportunities as usual ofquarrelling with the Count: who, perhaps, respected her situation, or, at least, was so properly aware of the necessity of quiet to her, thathe absented himself from home morning, noon, and night. 

The Captain had, it must be confessed, turned these continued absencesto a considerable worldly profit, for he played incessantly; and, sincehis first victory over the Warwickshire Squire, Fortune had been sofavourable to him, that he had at various intervals amassed a sum ofnearly a thousand pounds, which he used to bring home as he won; andwhich he deposited in a strong iron chest, cunningly screwed down byhimself under his own bed. This Mrs. Catherine regularly made, and thetreasure underneath it could be no secret to her. However, the nobleCount kept the key, and bound her by many solemn oaths (that hedischarged at her himself) not to reveal to any other person theexistence of the chest and its contents. 

But it is not in a woman's nature to keep such secrets; and the Captain, who left her for days and days, did not reflect that she would seek forconfidants elsewhere. For want of a female companion, she was compelledto bestow her sympathies upon Mr. Brock; who, as the Count'scorporal, was much in his lodgings, and who did manage to survive thedisappointment which he had experienced by Mrs. Catherine's refusal ofhim. 

About two months after the infant's birth, the Captain, who was annoyedby its squalling, put it abroad to nurse, and dismissed its attendant. Mrs. Catherine now resumed her household duties, and was, as before, at once mistress and servant of the establishment. As such, she had thekeys of the beer, and was pretty sure of the attentions of the Corporal;who became, as we have said, in the Count's absence, his lady's chieffriend and companion. After the manner of ladies, she very speedilyconfided to him all her domestic secrets; the causes of her formerdiscontent; the Count's ill-treatment of her; the wicked names he calledher; the prices that all her gowns had cost her; how he beat her; howmuch money he won and lost at play; how she had once pawned a coat forhim; how he had four new ones, laced, and paid for; what was the bestway of cleaning and keeping gold-lace, of making cherry-brandy, picklingsalmon, etc. , etc. Her confidences upon all these subjects used tofollow each other in rapid succession; and Mr. Brock became, ere long, quite as well acquainted with the Captain's history for the last year asthe Count himself:--for he was careless, and forgot things; womennever do. They chronicle all the lover's small actions, his words, hisheadaches, the dresses he has worn, the things he has liked for dinneron certain days;--all which circumstances commonly are expunged from themale brain immediately after they have occurred, but remain fixed withthe female. 

To Brock, then, and to Brock only (for she knew no other soul), Mrs. Catbreathed, in strictest confidence, the history of the Count's winnings, and his way of disposing of them; how he kept his money screwed down inan iron chest in their room; and a very lucky fellow did Brock considerhis officer for having such a large sum. He and Cat looked at the chest:it was small, but mighty strong, sure enough, and would defy picklocksand thieves. Well, if any man deserved money, the Captain did ("thoughhe might buy me a few yards of that lace I love so, " interruptedCat), --if any man deserved money, he did, for he spent it like a prince, and his hand was always in his pocket. 

It must now be stated that Monsieur de Galgenstein had, during Cat'sseclusion, cast his eyes upon a young lady of good fortune, whofrequented the Assembly at Birmingham, and who was not a little smittenby his title and person. The "four new coats, laced, and paid for, " asCat said, had been purchased, most probably, by his Excellency for thepurpose of dazzling the heiress; and he and the coats had succeeded sofar as to win from the young woman an actual profession of love, and apromise of marriage provided Pa would consent. This was obtained, --forPa was a tradesman; and I suppose every one of my readers has remarkedhow great an effect a title has on the lower classes. Yes, thank Heaven!there is about a freeborn Briton a cringing baseness, and lickspittleawe of rank, which does not exist under any tyranny in Europe, and isonly to be found here and in America. 

All these negotiations had been going on quite unknown to Cat; and, asthe Captain had determined, before two months were out, to fling thatyoung woman on the pave, he was kind to her in the meanwhile: peoplealways are when they are swindling you, or meditating an injury againstyou. 

The poor girl had much too high an opinion of her own charms to suspectthat the Count could be unfaithful to them, and had no notion of theplot that was formed against her. But Mr. Brock had: for he had seenmany times a gilt coach with a pair of fat white horses ambling inthe neighbourhood of the town, and the Captain on his black steedcaracolling majestically by its side; and he had remarked a fat, pudgy, pale-haired woman treading heavily down the stairs of the Assembly, leaning on the Captain's arm: all these Mr. Brock had seen, not withoutreflection. Indeed, the Count one day, in great good-humour, had slappedhim on the shoulder and told him that he was about speedily to purchasea regiment; when, by his great gods, Mr. Brock should have a pair ofcolours. Perhaps this promise occasioned his silence to Mrs. Catherinehitherto; perhaps he never would have peached at all; and perhaps, therefore, this history would never have been written, but for a smallcircumstance which occurred at this period. 

"What can you want with that drunken old Corporal always about yourquarters?" said Mr. Trippet to the Count one day, as they sat over theirwine, in the midst of a merry company, at the Captain's rooms. 

"What!" said he. "Old Brock? The old thief has been more useful to methan many a better man. He is as brave in a row as a lion, as cunning inintrigue as a fox; he can nose a dun at an inconceivable distance, andscent out a pretty woman be she behind ever so many stone walls. If agentleman wants a good rascal now, I can recommend him. I am going toreform, you know, and must turn him out of my service. "

"And pretty Mrs. Cat?"

"Oh, curse pretty Mrs. Cat! she may go too. "

"And the brat?"

"Why, you have parishes, and what not, here in England. Egad! if agentleman were called upon to keep all his children, there would be noliving: no, stap my vitals! Croesus couldn't stand it. "

"No, indeed, " said Mr. Trippet: "you are right; and when a gentlemanmarries, he is bound in honour to give up such low connections as areuseful when he is a bachelor. "

"Of course; and give them up I will, when the sweet Mrs. Dripping ismine. As for the girl, you can have her, Tom Trippet, if you take afancy to her; and as for the Corporal, he may be handed over to mysuccessor in Cutts's:--for I will have a regiment to myself, that's poz;and to take with me such a swindling, pimping, thieving, brandy-facedrascal as this Brock will never do. Egad! he's a disgrace to theservice. As it is, I've often a mind to have the superannuated vagabonddrummed out of the corps. "

Although this resume of Mr. Brock's character and accomplishmentswas very just, it came perhaps with an ill grace from Count GustavusAdolphus Maximilian, who had profited by all his qualities, and whocertainly would never have given this opinion of them had he known thatthe door of his dining-parlour was open, and that the gallant Corporal, who was in the passage, could hear every syllable that fell from thelips of his commanding officer. We shall not say, after the fashionof the story-books, that Mr. Brock listened with a flashing eye and adistended nostril; that his chest heaved tumultuously, and that hishand fell down mechanically to his side, where it played with the brasshandle of his sword. Mr. Kean would have gone through most of thesebodily exercises had he been acting the part of a villain enraged anddisappointed like Corporal Brock; but that gentleman walked away withoutany gestures of any kind, and as gently as possible. "He'll turn me outof the regiment, will he?" says he, quite piano; and then added (conmolta espressione), "I'll do for him. "

And it is to be remarked how generally, in cases of this nature, gentlemen stick to their word. 

CHAPTER III. IN WHICH A NARCOTIC IS ADMINISTERED, AND A GREAT DEAL OFGENTEEL SOCIETY DEPICTED. 

When the Corporal, who had retreated to the street-door immediately onhearing the above conversation, returned to the Captain's lodgingsand paid his respects to Mrs. Catherine, he found that lady in highgood-humour. The Count had been with her, she said, along with a friendof his, Mr. Trippet; had promised her twelve yards of the lace shecoveted so much; had vowed that the child should have as much more fora cloak; and had not left her until he had sat with her for an hour, or more, over a bowl of punch, which he made on purpose for her. Mr. Trippet stayed too. "A mighty pleasant man, " said she; "only not verywise, and seemingly a good deal in liquor. "

"A good deal indeed!" said the Corporal. "He was so tipsy just now thathe could hardly stand. He and his honour were talking to Nan Fantail inthe market-place; and she pulled Trippet's wig off, for wanting to kissher. "

"The nasty fellow!" said Mrs. Cat, "to demean himself with such lowpeople as Nan Fantail, indeed! Why, upon my conscience now, Corporal, itwas but an hour ago that Mr. Trippet swore he never saw such a pair ofeyes as mine, and would like to cut the Captain's throat for the love ofme. Nan Fantail, indeed!"

"Nan's an honest girl, Madam Catherine, and was a great favourite ofthe Captain's before someone else came in his way. No one can say a wordagainst her--not a word. "

"And pray, Corporal, who ever did?" said Mrs. Cat, rather offended. "Anasty, ugly slut! I wonder what the men can see in her?"

"She has got a smart way with her, sure enough; it's what amuses themen, and--"

"And what? You don't mean to say that my Max is fond of her NOW?" saidMrs. Catherine, looking very fierce. 

"Oh, no; not at all: not of HER;--that is--"

"Not of HER!" screamed she. "Of whom, then?"

"Oh, psha! nonsense! Of you, my dear, to be sure; who else should hecare for? And, besides, what business is it of mine?" And herewiththe Corporal began whistling, as if he would have no more of theconversation. But Mrs. Cat was not to be satisfied, --not she, --andcarried on her cross-questions. 

"Why, look you, " said the Corporal, after parrying many of these, --"Why, look you, I'm an old fool, Catherine, and I must blab. That man has beenthe best friend I ever had, and so I was quiet; but I can't keep it inany longer, --no, hang me if I can! It's my belief he's acting like arascal by you: he deceives you, Catherine; he's a scoundrel, Mrs. Hall, that's the truth on't. "

Catherine prayed him to tell all he knew; and he resumed. 

"He wants you off his hands; he's sick of you, and so brought here thatfool Tom Trippet, who has taken a fancy to you. He has not the courageto turn you out of doors like a man; though indoors he can treat youlike a beast. But I'll tell you what he'll do. In a month he will go toCoventry, or pretend to go there, on recruiting business. No such thing, Mrs. Hall; he's going on MARRIAGE business; and he'll leave you withouta farthing, to starve or to rot, for him. It's all arranged, I tell you:in a month, you are to be starved into becoming Tom Trippet'smistress; and his honour is to marry rich Miss Dripping, thetwenty-thousand-pounder from London; and to purchase a regiment;--and toget old Brock drummed out of Cutts's too, " said the Corporal, under hisbreath. But he might have spoken out, if he chose; for the poor youngwoman had sunk on the ground in a real honest fit. 

"I thought I should give it her, " said Mr. Brock as he procured a glassof water; and, lifting her on to a sofa, sprinkled the same over her. "Hang it! how pretty she is. "

 *****

When Mrs. Catherine came to herself again, Brock's tone with her waskind, and almost feeling. Nor did the poor wench herself indulge inany subsequent shiverings and hysterics, such as usually follow thefainting-fits of persons of higher degree. She pressed him for furtherexplanations, which he gave, and to which she listened with a great dealof calmness; nor did many tears, sobs, sighs, or exclamations of sorrowor anger escape from her: only when the Corporal was taking his leave, and said to her point-blank, --"Well, Mrs. Catherine, and what do youintend to do?" she did not reply a word; but gave a look which made himexclaim, on leaving the room, --

"By heavens! the woman means murder! I would not be the Holofernes tolie by the side of such a Judith as that--not I!" And he went his way, immersed in deep thought. When the Captain returned at night, she didnot speak to him; and when he swore at her for being sulky, she onlysaid she had a headache, and was dreadfully ill; with which excuseGustavus Adolphus seemed satisfied, and left her to herself. 

He saw her the next morning for a moment: he was going a-shooting. 

Catherine had no friend, as is usual in tragedies and romances, --nomysterious sorceress of her acquaintance to whom she could apply forpoison, --so she went simply to the apothecaries, pretending at each thatshe had a dreadful toothache, and procuring from them as much laudanumas she thought would suit her purpose. 

When she went home again she seemed almost gay. Mr. Brock complimentedher upon the alteration in her appearance; and she was enabled toreceive the Captain at his return from shooting in such a manner as madehim remark that she had got rid of her sulks of the morning, and mightsup with them, if she chose to keep her good-humour. The supper wasgot ready, and the gentlemen had the punch-bowl when the cloth wascleared, --Mrs. Catherine, with her delicate hands, preparing the liquor. 

It is useless to describe the conversation that took place, or to reckonthe number of bowls that were emptied; or to tell how Mr. Trippet, whowas one of the guests, and declined to play at cards when some of theothers began, chose to remain by Mrs. Catherine's side, and make violentlove to her. All this might be told, and the account, however faithful, would not be very pleasing. No, indeed! And here, though we are only inthe third chapter of this history, we feel almost sick of the charactersthat appear in it, and the adventures which they are called upon to gothrough. But how can we help ourselves? The public will hear of nothingbut rogues; and the only way in which poor authors, who must live, canact honestly by the public and themselves, is to paint such thieves asthey are: not, dandy, poetical, rose-water thieves; but real downrightscoundrels, leading scoundrelly lives, drunken, profligate, dissolute, low; as scoundrels will be. They don't quote Plato, like Eugene Aram; orlive like gentlemen, and sing the pleasantest ballads in the world, likejolly Dick Turpin; or prate eternally about "to kalon, "[*] like thatprecious canting Maltravers, whom we all of us have read about andpitied; or die whitewashed saints, like poor "Biss Dadsy" in "OliverTwist. " No, my dear madam, you and your daughters have no right toadmire and sympathise with any such persons, fictitious or real:you ought to be made cordially to detest, scorn, loathe, abhor, andabominate all people of this kidney. Men of genius like those whoseworks we have above alluded to, have no business to make thesecharacters interesting or agreeable; to be feeding your morbid fancies, or indulging their own, with such monstrous food. For our parts, youngladies, we beg you to bottle up your tears, and not waste a single dropof them on any one of the heroes or heroines in this history: theyare all rascals, every soul of them, and behave "as sich. " Keep yoursympathy for those who deserve it: don't carry it, for preference, tothe Old Bailey, and grow maudlin over the company assembled there. 

 * Anglicised version of the author's original Greek text. 

Just, then, have the kindness to fancy that the conversation which tookplace over the bowls of punch which Mrs. Catherine prepared, was suchas might be expected to take place where the host was a dissolute, dare-devil, libertine captain of dragoons, the guests for the mostpart of the same class, and the hostess a young woman originally from acountry alehouse, and for the present mistress to the entertainer ofthe society. They talked, and they drank, and they grew tipsy; and verylittle worth hearing occurred during the course of the whole evening. Mr. Brock officiated, half as the servant, half as the companion of thesociety. Mr. Thomas Trippet made violent love to Mrs. Catherine, whileher lord and master was playing at dice with the other gentlemen: and onthis night, strange to say, the Captain's fortune seemed to desert him. The Warwickshire Squire, from whom he had won so much, had an amazingrun of good luck. The Captain called perpetually for more drink, andhigher stakes, and lost almost every throw. Three hundred, four hundred, six hundred--all his winnings of the previous months were swallowed upin the course of a few hours. The Corporal looked on; and, to do himjustice, seemed very grave as, sum by sum, the Squire scored down theCount's losses on the paper before him. 

Most of the company had taken their hats and staggered off. The Squireand Mr. Trippet were the only two that remained, the latter stilllingering by Mrs. Catherine's sofa and table; and as she, as we havestated, had been employed all the evening in mixing the liquor forthe gamesters, he was at the headquarters of love and drink, and hadswallowed so much of each as hardly to be able to speak. 

The dice went rattling on; the candles were burning dim, with great longwicks. Mr. Trippet could hardly see the Captain, and thought, as far ashis muzzy reason would let him, that the Captain could not see him:so he rose from his chair as well as he could, and fell down on Mrs. Catherine's sofa. His eyes were fixed, his face was pale, his jaw hungdown; and he flung out his arms and said, in a maudlin voice, "Oh, youbyoo-oo-oo-tifile Cathrine, I must have a kick-kick-iss. "

"Beast!" said Mrs. Catherine, and pushed him away. The drunken wretchfell off the sofa, and on to the floor, where he stayed; and, aftersnorting out some unintelligible sounds, went to sleep. 

The dice went rattling on; the candles were burning dim, with great longwicks. 

"Seven's the main, " cried the Count. "Four. Three to two against thecaster. "

"Ponies, " said the Warwickshire Squire. 

Rattle, rattle, rattle, rattle, clatter, NINE. Clap, clap, clap, clap, ELEVEN. Clutter, clutter, clutter, clutter: "Seven it is, " says theWarwickshire Squire. "That makes eight hundred, Count. "

"One throw for two hundred, " said the Count. "But stop! Cat, give ussome more punch. "

Mrs. Cat came forward; she looked a little pale, and her hand trembledsomewhat. "Here is the punch, Max, " said she. It was steaming hot, in alarge glass. "Don't drink it all, " said she; "leave me some. "

"How dark it is!" said the Count, eyeing it. 

"It's the brandy, " said Cat. 

"Well, here goes! Squire, curse you! here's your health, and bad luckto you!" and he gulped off more than half the liquor at a draught. Butpresently he put down the glass and cried, "What infernal poison isthis, Cat?"

"Poison!" said she. "It's no poison. Give me the glass. " And she pledgedMax, and drank a little of it. "'Tis good punch, Max, and of my brewing;I don't think you will ever get any better. " And she went back to thesofa again, and sat down, and looked at the players. 

Mr. Brock looked at her white face and fixed eyes with a grim kind ofcuriosity. The Count sputtered, and cursed the horrid taste of the punchstill; but he presently took the box, and made his threatened throw. 

As before, the Squire beat him; and having booked his winnings, rosefrom table as well as he might and besought to lead him downstairs;which Mr. Brock did. 

Liquor had evidently stupefied the Count: he sat with his head betweenhis hands, muttering wildly about ill-luck, seven's the main, bad punch, and so on. The street-door banged to; and the steps of Brock and theSquire were heard, until they could be heard no more. 

"Max, " said she; but he did not answer. "Max, " said she again, layingher hand on his shoulder. 

"Curse you, " said that gentleman, "keep off, and don't be laying yourpaws upon me. Go to bed, you jade, or to ----, for what I care; and give mefirst some more punch--a gallon more punch, do you hear?"

The gentleman, by the curses at the commencement of this little speech, and the request contained at the end of it, showed that his losses vexedhim, and that he was anxious to forget them temporarily. 

"Oh, Max!" whimpered Mrs. Cat, "you--don't--want any more punch?"

"Don't! Shan't I be drunk in my own house, you cursed whimpering jade, you? Get out!" and with this the Captain proceeded to administer a blowupon Mrs. Catherine's cheek. 

Contrary to her custom, she did not avenge it, or seek to do so, ason the many former occasions when disputes of this nature had arisenbetween the Count and her; but now Mrs. Catherine fell on her knees and, clasping her hands and looking pitifully in the Count's face, cried, "Oh, Count, forgive me, forgive me!"

"Forgive you! What for? Because I slapped your face? Ha, ha! I'llforgive you again, if you don't mind. "

"Oh, no, no, no!" said she, wringing her hands. "It isn't that. Max, dear Max, will you forgive me? It isn't the blow--I don't mind that;it's--"

"It's what, you--maudlin fool?"

"IT'S THE PUNCH!"

The Count, who was more than half seas over, here assumed an air of muchtipsy gravity. "The punch! No, I never will forgive you that last glassof punch. Of all the foul, beastly drinks I ever tasted, that was theworst. No, I never will forgive you that punch. "

"Oh, it isn't that, it isn't that!" said she. 

"I tell you it is that, --you! That punch, I say that punch was no betterthan paw--aw-oison. " And here the Count's head sank back, and he fell tosnore. 

"IT WAS POISON!" said she. 

"WHAT!" screamed he, waking up at once, and spurning her away from him. "What, you infernal murderess, have you killed me?"

"Oh, Max!--don't kill me, Max! It was laudanum--indeed it was. You weregoing to be married, and I was furious, and I went and got--"

"Hold your tongue, you fiend, " roared out the Count; and with morepresence of mind than politeness, he flung the remainder of the liquor(and, indeed, the glass with it) at the head of Mrs. Catherine. But thepoisoned chalice missed its mark, and fell right on the nose of Mr. TomTrippet, who was left asleep and unobserved under the table. 

Bleeding, staggering, swearing, indeed a ghastly sight, up sprang Mr. Trippet, and drew his rapier. "Come on, " says he; "never say die! What'sthe row? I'm ready for a dozen of you. " And he made many blind andfurious passes about the room. 

"Curse you, we'll die together!" shouted the Count, as he too pulled outhis toledo, and sprang at Mrs. Catherine. 

"Help! murder! thieves!" shrieked she. "Save me, Mr. Trippet, save me!"and she placed that gentleman between herself and the Count, and thenmade for the door of the bedroom, and gained it, and bolted it. 

"Out of the way, Trippet, " roared the Count--"out of the way, youdrunken beast! I'll murder her, I will--I'll have the devil's life. " Andhere he gave a swinging cut at Mr. Trippet's sword: it sent the weaponwhirling clean out of his hand, and through a window into the street. 

"Take my life, then, " said Mr. Trippet: "I'm drunk, but I'm a man, and, damme! will never say die. "

"I don't want your life, you stupid fool. Hark you, Trippet, wake andbe sober, if you can. That woman has heard of my marriage with MissDripping. "

"Twenty thousand pound, " ejaculated Trippet. 

"She has been jealous, I tell you, and POISONED us. She has put laudanuminto the punch. "

"What, in MY punch?" said Trippet, growing quite sober and losing hiscourage. "O Lord! O Lord!"

"Don't stand howling there, but run for a doctor; 'tis our only chance. "And away ran Mr. Trippet, as if the deuce were at his heels. 

The Count had forgotten his murderous intentions regarding his mistress, or had deferred them at least, under the consciousness of his ownpressing danger. And it must be said, in the praise of a man who hadfought for and against Marlborough and Tallard, that his courage in thistrying and novel predicament never for a moment deserted him, but thathe showed the greatest daring, as well as ingenuity, in meeting andaverting the danger. He flew to the sideboard, where were the relics ofa supper, and seizing the mustard and salt pots, and a bottle of oil, he emptied them all into a jug, into which he further poured a vastquantity of hot water. This pleasing mixture he then, without a moment'shesitation, placed to his lips, and swallowed as much of it as naturewould allow him. But when he had imbibed about a quart, the anticipatedeffect was produced, and he was enabled, by the power of this ingeniousextemporaneous emetic, to get rid of much of the poison which Mrs. Catherine had administered to him. 

He was employed in these efforts when the doctor entered, along withMr. Brock and Mr. Trippet; who was not a little pleased to hear thatthe poisoned punch had not in all probability been given to him. Hewas recommended to take some of the Count's mixture, as a precautionarymeasure; but this he refused, and retired home, leaving the Count undercharge of the physician and his faithful corporal. 

It is not necessary to say what further remedies were employed bythem to restore the Captain to health; but after some time the doctor, pronouncing that the danger was, he hoped, averted, recommended that hispatient should be put to bed, and that somebody should sit by him; whichBrock promised to do. 

"That she-devil will murder me, if you don't, " gasped the poor Count. "You must turn her out of the bedroom; or break open the door, if sherefuses to let you in. "

And this step was found to be necessary; for, after shouting manytimes, and in vain, Mr. Brock found a small iron bar (indeed, he had theinstrument for many days in his pocket), and forced the lock. The roomwas empty, the window was open: the pretty barmaid of the "Bugle" hadfled. 

"The chest, " said the Count--"is the chest safe?"

The Corporal flew to the bed, under which it was screwed, and looked, and said, "It IS safe, thank Heaven!" The window was closed. TheCaptain, who was too weak to stand without help, was undressed and putto bed. The Corporal sat down by his side; slumber stole over the eyesof the patient; and his wakeful nurse marked with satisfaction theprogress of the beneficent restorer of health. 

When the Captain awoke, as he did some time afterwards, he found, verymuch to his surprise, that a gag had been placed in his mouth, and thatthe Corporal was in the act of wheeling his bed to another part of theroom. He attempted to move, and gave utterance to such unintelligiblesounds as could issue through a silk handkerchief. 

"If your honour stirs or cries out in the least, I will cut yourhonour's throat, " said the Corporal. 

And then, having recourse to his iron bar (the reader will now see whyhe was provided with such an implement, for he had been meditating thiscoup for some days), he proceeded first to attempt to burst the lock ofthe little iron chest in which the Count kept his treasure, and, failingin this, to unscrew it from the ground; which operation he performedsatisfactorily. 

"You see, Count, " said he, calmly, "when rogues fall out there's thedeuce to pay. You'll have me drummed out of the regiment, will you?I'm going to leave it of my own accord, look you, and to live like agentleman for the rest of my days. Schlafen Sie wohl, noble Captain: bonrepos. The Squire will be with you pretty early in the morning, to askfor the money you owe him. "

With these sarcastic observations Mr. Brock departed; not by the window, as Mrs. Catherine had done, but by the door, quietly, and so intothe street. And when, the next morning, the doctor came to visit hispatient, he brought with him a story how, at the dead of night, Mr. Brock had roused the ostler at the stables where the Captain's horseswere kept--had told him that Mrs. Catherine had poisoned the Count, andhad run off with a thousand pounds; and how he and all lovers of justiceought to scour the country in pursuit of the criminal. For this end Mr. Brock mounted the Count's best horse--that very animal on which hehad carried away Mrs. Catherine: and thus, on a single night, CountMaximilian had lost his mistress, his money, his horse, his corporal, and was very near losing his life. 

CHAPTER IV. IN WHICH MRS. CATHERINE BECOMES AN HONEST WOMAN AGAIN. 

In this woeful plight, moneyless, wifeless, horseless, corporalless, with a gag in his mouth and a rope round his body, are we compelled toleave the gallant Galgenstein, until his friends and the progress ofthis history shall deliver him from his durance. Mr. Brock's adventureson the Captain's horse must likewise be pretermitted; for it is ourbusiness to follow Mrs. Catherine through the window by which she madeher escape, and among the various chances that befell her. 

She had one cause to congratulate herself, --that she had not her baby ather back; for the infant was safely housed under the care of a nurse, to whom the Captain was answerable. Beyond this her prospects were butdismal: no home to fly to, but a few shillings in her pocket, and awhole heap of injuries and dark revengeful thoughts in her bosom: it wasa sad task to her to look either backwards or forwards. Whither was sheto fly? How to live? What good chance was to befriend her? There was anangel watching over the steps of Mrs. Cat--not a good one, I think, butone of those from that unnameable place, who have their many subjectshere on earth, and often are pleased to extricate them from worseperplexities. 

Mrs. Cat, now, had not committed murder, but as bad as murder; and asshe felt not the smallest repentance in her heart--as she had, inthe course of her life and connection with the Captain, performed andgloried in a number of wicked coquetries, idlenesses, vanities, lies, fits of anger, slanders, foul abuses, and what not--she was fairly boundover to this dark angel whom we have alluded to; and he dealt with her, and aided her, as one of his own children. 

I do not mean to say that, in this strait, he appeared to her in thelikeness of a gentleman in black, and made her sign her name in bloodto a document conveying over to him her soul, in exchange for certainconditions to be performed by him. Such diabolical bargains have alwaysappeared to me unworthy of the astute personage who is supposed to beone of the parties to them; and who would scarcely be fool enough to paydearly for that which he can have in a few years for nothing. It is not, then, to be supposed that a demon of darkness appeared to Mrs. Cat, and led her into a flaming chariot harnessed by dragons, and careeringthrough air at the rate of a thousand leagues a minute. No such thing;the vehicle that was sent to aid her was one of a much more vulgardescription. 

The "Liverpool carryvan, " then, which in the year 1706 used to performthe journey between London and that place in ten days, left Birminghamabout an hour after Mrs. Catherine had quitted that town; and as she satweeping on a hillside, and plunged in bitter meditation, the lumbering, jingling vehicle overtook her. The coachman was marching by the side ofhis horses, and encouraging them to maintain their pace of two miles anhour; the passengers had some of them left the vehicle, in order towalk up the hill; and the carriage had arrived at the top of it, and, meditating a brisk trot down the declivity, waited there until thelagging passengers should arrive: when Jehu, casting a good-naturedglance upon Mrs. Catherine, asked the pretty maid whence she was come, and whether she would like a ride in his carriage. To the latter ofwhich questions Mrs. Catherine replied truly yes; to the former, heranswer was that she had come from Stratford; whereas, as we very wellknow, she had lately quitted Birmingham. 

"Hast thee seen a woman pass this way, on a black horse, with a largebag of goold over the saddle?" said Jehu, preparing to mount upon theroof of his coach. 

"No, indeed, " said Mrs. Cat. 

"Nor a trooper on another horse after her--no? Well, there be a mortalrow down Birmingham way about sich a one. She have killed, they say, nine gentlemen at supper, and have strangled a German prince in bed. She have robbed him of twenty thousand guineas, and have rode away on ablack horse. "

"That can't be I, " said Mrs. Cat, naively, "for I have but threeshillings and a groat. "

"No, it can't be thee, truly, for where's your bag of goold? and, besides, thee hast got too pretty a face to do such wicked things as tokill nine gentlemen and strangle a German prince. "

"Law, coachman, " said Mrs. Cat, blushing archly-- "Law, coachman, DO youthink so?" The girl would have been pleased with a compliment even onher way to be hanged; and the parley ended by Mrs. Catherine steppinginto the carriage, where there was room for eight people at least, andwhere two or three individuals had already taken their places. For theseMrs. Catherine had in the first place to make a story, which she did;and a very glib one for a person of her years and education. Being askedwhither she was bound, and how she came to be alone of a morning sittingby a road-side, she invented a neat history suitable to the occasion, which elicited much interest from her fellow-passengers: one inparticular, a young man, who had caught a glimpse of her face under herhood, was very tender in his attentions to her. 

But whether it was that she had been too much fatigued by theoccurrences of the past day and sleepless night, or whether the littlelaudanum which she had drunk a few hours previously now began to actupon her, certain it is that Mrs. Cat now suddenly grew sick, feverish, and extraordinarily sleepy; and in this state she continued formany hours, to the pity of all her fellow-travellers. At length the"carryvan" reached the inn, where horses and passengers were accustomedto rest for a few hours, and to dine; and Mrs. Catherine was somewhatawakened by the stir of the passengers, and the friendly voice of theinn-servant welcoming them to dinner. The gentleman who had been smittenby her beauty now urged her very politely to descend; which, taking theprotection of his arm, she accordingly did. 

He made some very gallant speeches to her as she stepped out; andshe must have been very much occupied by them, or wrapt up in her ownthoughts, or stupefied by sleep, fever, and opium, for she did not takeany heed of the place into which she was going: which, had she done, she would probably have preferred remaining in the coach, dinnerless andill. Indeed, the inn into which she was about to make her entrance wasno other than the "Bugle, " from which she set forth at the commencementof this history; and which then, as now, was kept by her relative, thethrifty Mrs. Score. That good landlady, seeing a lady, in a smart hoodand cloak, leaning, as if faint, upon the arm of a gentleman of goodappearance, concluded them to be man and wife, and folks of quality too;and with much discrimination, as well as sympathy, led them through thepublic kitchen to her own private parlour, or bar, where she handed thelady an armchair, and asked what she would like to drink. By this time, and indeed at the very moment she heard her aunt's voice, Mrs. Catherinewas aware of her situation; and when her companion retired, and thelandlady, with much officiousness, insisted on removing her hood, shewas quite prepared for the screech of surprise which Mrs. Score gave ondropping it, exclaiming, "Why, law bless us, it's our Catherine!"

"I'm very ill, and tired, aunt, " said Cat; "and would give the world fora few hours' sleep. "

"A few hours and welcome, my love, and a sack-posset too. You do looksadly tired and poorly, sure enough. Ah, Cat, Cat! you great ladiesare sad rakes, I do believe. I wager now, that with all your balls, andcarriages, and fine clothes, you are neither so happy nor so well aswhen you lived with your poor old aunt, who used to love you so. " Andwith these gentle words, and an embrace or two, which Mrs. Catherinewondered at, and permitted, she was conducted to that very bed which theCount had occupied a year previously, and undressed, and laid in it, andaffectionately tucked up by her aunt, who marvelled at the fineness ofher clothes, as she removed them piece by piece; and when she sawthat in Mrs. Catherine's pocket there was only the sum of three andfourpence, said, archly, "There was no need of money, for the Captaintook care of that. "

Mrs. Cat did not undeceive her; and deceived Mrs. Score certainlywas, --for she imagined the well-dressed gentleman who led Cat from thecarriage was no other than the Count; and, as she had heard, from timeto time, exaggerated reports of the splendour of the establishment whichhe kept up, she was induced to look upon her niece with the very highestrespect, and to treat her as if she were a fine lady. "And so she ISa fine lady, " Mrs. Score had said months ago, when some of theseflattering stories reached her, and she had overcome her first fury atCatherine's elopement. "The girl was very cruel to leave me; but we mustrecollect that she is as good as married to a nobleman, and must allforget and forgive, you know. "

This speech had been made to Doctor Dobbs, who was in the habit oftaking a pipe and a tankard at the "Bugle, " and it had been roundlyreprobated by the worthy divine; who told Mrs. Score, that the crimeof Catherine was only the more heinous, if it had been committed frominterested motives; and protested that, were she a princess, he wouldnever speak to her again. Mrs. Score thought and pronounced the Doctor'sopinion to be very bigoted; indeed, she was one of those persons whohave a marvellous respect for prosperity, and a corresponding scorn forill-fortune. When, therefore, she returned to the public room, shewent graciously to the gentleman who had led Mrs. Catherine from thecarriage, and with a knowing curtsey welcomed him to the "Bugle;" toldhim that his lady would not come to dinner, but bade her say, with herbest love to his Lordship, that the ride had fatigued her, and that shewould lie in bed for an hour or two. 

This speech was received with much wonder by his Lordship; who was, indeed, no other than a Liverpool tailor going to London to learnfashions; but he only smiled, and did not undeceive the landlady, whoherself went off, smilingly, to bustle about dinner. 

The two or three hours allotted to that meal by the liberal coachmastersof those days passed away, and Mr. Coachman, declaring that his horseswere now rested enough, and that they had twelve miles to ride, put thesteeds to, and summoned the passengers. Mrs. Score, who had seen withmuch satisfaction that her niece was really ill, and her fever moreviolent, and hoped to have her for many days an inmate in her house, nowcame forward, and casting upon the Liverpool tailor a look of profoundbut respectful melancholy, said, "My Lord (for I recollect your Lordshipquite well), the lady upstairs is so ill, that it would be a sin to moveher: had I not better tell coachman to take down your Lordship's trunks, and the lady's, and make you a bed in the next room?"

Very much to her surprise, this proposition was received with a roarof laughter. "Madam, " said the person addressed, "I'm not a lord, buta tailor and draper; and as for that young woman, before to-day I neverset eyes on her. "

"WHAT!" screamed out Mrs. Score. "Are not you the Count? Do you mean tosay that you a'n't Cat's--? DO you mean to say that you didn't order herbed, and that you won't pay this here little bill?" And with this sheproduced a document, by which the Count's lady was made her debtor in asum of half-a-guinea. 

These passionate words excited more and more laughter. "Pay it, myLord, " said the coachman; "and then come along, for time presses. " "Ourrespects to her Ladyship, " said one passenger. "Tell her my Lord can'twait, " said another; and with much merriment one and all quitted thehotel, entered the coach, and rattled off. 

Dumb--pale with terror and rage--bill in hand, Mrs. Score had followedthe company; but when the coach disappeared, her senses returned. Backshe flew into the inn, overturning the ostler, not deigning to answerDoctor Dobbs (who, from behind soft tobacco-fumes, mildly asked thereason of her disturbance), and, bounding upstairs like a fury, sherushed into the room where Catherine lay. 

"Well, madam!" said she, in her highest key, "do you mean that you havecome into this here house to swindle me? Do you dare for to come withyour airs here, and call yourself a nobleman's lady, and sleep in thebest bed, when you're no better nor a common tramper? I'll thank you, ma'am, to get out, ma'am. I'll have no sick paupers in this house, ma'am. You know your way to the workhouse, ma'am, and there I'll troubleyou for to go. " And here Mrs. Score proceeded quickly to pull off thebedclothes; and poor Cat arose, shivering with fright and fever. 

She had no spirit to answer, as she would have done the day before, whenan oath from any human being would have brought half-a-dozen from her inreturn; or a knife, or a plate, or a leg of mutton, if such had been toher hand. She had no spirit left for such repartees; but in reply to theabove words of Mrs. Score, and a great many more of the same kind--whichare not necessary for our history, but which that lady uttered withinconceivable shrillness and volubility, the poor wench could saylittle, --only sob and shiver, and gather up the clothes again, crying, "Oh, aunt, don't speak unkind to me! I'm very unhappy, and very ill!"

"Ill, you strumpet! ill, be hanged! Ill is as ill does; and if you areill, it's only what you merit. Get out! dress yourself--tramp! Get tothe workhouse, and don't come to cheat me any more! Dress yourself--doyou hear? Satin petticoat forsooth, and lace to her smock!"

Poor, wretched, chattering, burning, shivering Catherine huddled on herclothes as well she might: she seemed hardly to know or see what she wasdoing, and did not reply a single word to the many that the landlady letfall. Cat tottered down the narrow stairs, and through the kitchen, andto the door; which she caught hold of, and paused awhile, and lookedinto Mrs. Score's face, as for one more chance. "Get out, you nastytrull!" said that lady, sternly, with arms akimbo; and poor Catherine, with a most piteous scream and outgush of tears, let go of the door-postand staggered away into the road. 

 *****

"Why, no--yes--no--it is poor Catherine Hall, as I live!" said somebody, starting up, shoving aside Mrs. Score very rudely, and running intothe road, wig off and pipe in hand. It was honest Doctor Dobbs; andthe result of his interview with Mrs. Cat was, that he gave up for eversmoking his pipe at the "Bugle;" and that she lay sick of a fever forsome weeks in his house. 

 *****

Over this part of Mrs. Cat's history we shall be as brief as possible;for, to tell the truth, nothing immoral occurred during her whole stayat the good Doctor's house; and we are not going to insult the readerby offering him silly pictures of piety, cheerfulness, good sense, andsimplicity; which are milk-and-water virtues after all, and have norelish with them like a good strong vice, highly peppered. Well, to beshort: Doctor Dobbs, though a profound theologian, was a very simplegentleman; and before Mrs. Cat had been a month in the house, he hadlearned to look upon her as one of the most injured and repentantcharacters in the world; and had, with Mrs. Dobbs, resolved many plansfor the future welfare of the young Magdalen. "She was but sixteen, mylove, recollect, " said the Doctor; "she was carried off, not by her ownwish either. The Count swore he would marry her; and, though she did notleave him until that monster tried to poison her, yet think what afine Christian spirit the poor girl has shown! she forgives him asheartily--more heartily, I am sure, than I do Mrs. Score for turning heradrift in that wicked way. " The reader will perceive some difference inthe Doctor's statement and ours, which we assure him is the true one;but the fact is, the honest rector had had his tale from Mrs. Cat, andit was not in his nature to doubt, if she had told him a history tentimes more wonderful. 

The reverend gentleman and his wife then laid their heads together; and, recollecting something of John Hayes's former attachment to Mrs. Cat, thought that it might be advantageously renewed, should Hayes be stillconstant. Having very adroitly sounded Catherine (so adroitly, indeed, as to ask her "whether she would like to marry John Hayes?"), that youngwoman had replied, "No. She had loved John Hayes--he had been her early, only love; but she was fallen now, and not good enough for him. " Andthis made the Dobbs family admire her more and more, and cast about formeans to bring the marriage to pass. 

Hayes was away from the village when Mrs. Cat had arrived there; but hedid not fail to hear of her illness, and how her aunt had deserted her, and the good Doctor taken her in. The worthy Doctor himself met Mr. Hayes on the green; and, telling him that some repairs were wanting inhis kitchen begged him to step in and examine them. Hayes first said no, plump, and then no, gently; and then pished, and then psha'd; and then, trembling very much, went in: and there sat Mrs. Catherine, tremblingvery much too. 

What passed between them? If your Ladyship is anxious to know, think ofthat morning when Sir John himself popped the question. Could there beanything more stupid than the conversation which took place? Such stuffis not worth repeating: no, not when uttered by people in the verygenteelest of company; as for the amorous dialogue of a carpenter andan ex-barmaid, it is worse still. Suffice it to say, that Mr. Hayes, whohad had a year to recover from his passion, and had, to all appearances, quelled it, was over head and ears again the very moment he saw Mrs. Cat, and had all his work to do again. 

Whether the Doctor knew what was going on, I can't say; but this matteris certain, that every evening Hayes was now in the rectory kitchen, orelse walking abroad with Mrs. Catherine: and whether she ran away withhim, or he with her, I shall not make it my business to inquire; butcertainly at the end of three months (which must be crowded up into thisone little sentence), another elopement took place in the village. "Ishould have prevented it, certainly, " said Doctor Dobbs--whereat hiswife smiled; "but the young people kept the matter a secret from me. "And so he would, had he known it; but though Mrs. Dobbs had madeseveral attempts to acquaint him with the precise hour and method of theintended elopement, he peremptorily ordered her to hold her tongue. Thefact is, that the matter had been discussed by the rector's lady manytimes. "Young Hayes, " would she say "has a pretty little fortune andtrade of his own; he is an only son, and may marry as he likes; and, though not specially handsome, generous, or amiable, has an undeniablelove for Cat (who, you know, must not be particular), and the sooner shemarries him, I think, the better. They can't be married at ourchurch you know, and--" "Well, " said the Doctor, "if they are marriedelsewhere, I can't help it, and know nothing about it, look you. " Andupon this hint the elopement took place: which, indeed, was peaceablyperformed early one Sunday morning about a month after; Mrs. Hallgetting behind Mr. Hayes on a pillion, and all the children of theparsonage giggling behind the window-blinds to see the pair go off. 

During this month Mr. Hayes had caused the banns to be published at thetown of Worcester; judging rightly that in a great town they would causeno such remark as in a solitary village, and thither he conducted hislady. O ill-starred John Hayes! whither do the dark Fates lead you? Ofoolish Doctor Dobbs, to forget that young people ought to honour theirparents, and to yield to silly Mrs. Dobbs's ardent propensity for makingmatches!

 *****

The London Gazette of the 1st April, 1706, contains a proclamationby the Queen for putting into execution an Act of Parliament for theencouragement and increase of seamen, and for the better and speediermanning of Her Majesty's fleet, which authorises all justices to issuewarrants to constables, petty constables, headboroughs, and tything-men, to enter and, if need be, to break open the doors of any houses wherethey shall believe deserting seamen to be; and for the further increaseand encouragement of the navy, to take able-bodied landsmen when seamenfail. This Act, which occupies four columns of the Gazette, and anotherof similar length and meaning for pressing men into the army, neednot be quoted at length here; but caused a mighty stir throughout thekingdom at the time when it was in force. 

As one has seen or heard, after the march of a great army, a number ofrogues and loose characters bring up the rear; in like manner, atthe tail of a great measure of State, follow many roguish personalinterests, which are protected by the main body. The great measure ofReform, for instance, carried along with it much private jobbing andswindling--as could be shown were we not inclined to deal mildly withthe Whigs; and this Enlistment Act, which, in order to maintain theBritish glories in Flanders, dealt most cruelly with the British peoplein England (it is not the first time that a man has been pinched at hometo make a fine appearance abroad), created a great company of rascalsand informers throughout the land, who lived upon it; or upon extortionfrom those who were subject to it, or not being subject to it werefrightened into the belief that they were. 

When Mr. Hayes and his lady had gone through the marriage ceremony atWorcester, the former, concluding that at such a place lodging and foodmight be procured at a cheaper rate, looked about carefully for themeanest public-house in the town, where he might deposit his bride. 

In the kitchen of this inn, a party of men were drinking; and, asMrs. Hayes declined, with a proper sense of her superiority, to eat incompany with such low fellows, the landlady showed her and her husbandto an inner apartment, where they might be served in private. 

The kitchen party seemed, indeed, not such as a lady would choose tojoin. There was one huge lanky fellow, that looked like a soldier, and had a halberd; another was habited in a sailor's costume, with afascinating patch over one eye; and a third, who seemed the leaderof the gang, was a stout man in a sailor's frock and a horseman'sjack-boots, whom one might fancy, if he were anything, to be ahorse-marine. 

Of one of these worthies, Mrs. Hayes thought she knew the figure andvoice; and she found her conjectures were true, when, all of sudden, three people, without "With your leave, " or "By your leave, " burst intothe room, into which she and her spouse had retired. At their head wasno other than her old friend, Mr. Peter Brock; he had his sword drawn, and his finger to his lips, enjoining silence, as it were, to Mrs. Catherine. He with the patch on his eye seized incontinently on Mr. Hayes; the tall man with the halberd kept the door; two or three heroessupported the one-eyed man; who, with a loud voice, exclaimed, "Downwith your arms--no resistance! you are my prisoner, in the Queen'sname!"

And here, at this lock, we shall leave the whole company until the nextchapter; which may possibly explain what they were. 

CHAPTER V. CONTAINS MR. BROCK'S AUTOBIOGRAPHY, AND OTHER MATTERS. 

"You don't sure believe these men?" said Mrs. Hayes, as soon as thefirst alarm caused by the irruption of Mr. Brock and his companions hadsubsided. "These are no magistrate's men: it is but a trick to rob youof your money, John. "

"I will never give up a farthing of it!" screamed Hayes. 

"Yonder fellow, " continued Mrs. Catherine, "I know, for all his drawnsword and fierce looks; his name is---"

"Wood, madam, at your service!" said Mr. Brock. "I am follower to Mr. Justice Gobble, of this town: a'n't I, Tim?" said Mr. Brock to the tallhalberdman who was keeping the door. 

"Yes indeed, " said Tim, archly; "we're all followers of his honourJustice Gobble. "

"Certainly!" said the one-eyed man. 

"Of course!" cried the man in the nightcap. 

"I suppose, madam, you're satisfied NOW?" continued Mr. Brock, aliasWood. "You can't deny the testimony of gentlemen like these; and ourcommission is to apprehend all able-bodied male persons who can giveno good account of themselves, and enrol them in the service of HerMajesty. Look at this Mr. Hayes" (who stood trembling in his shoes). "Can there be a bolder, properer, straighter gentleman? We'll have himfor a grenadier before the day's over!"

"Take heart, John--don't be frightened. Psha! I tell you I know the man"cried out Mrs. Hayes: "he is only here to extort money. "

"Oh, for that matter, I DO think I recollect the lady. Let me see; wherewas it? At Birmingham, I think, --ay, at Birmingham, --about the time whenthey tried to murder Count Gal--"

"Oh, sir!" here cried Madam Hayes, dropping her voice at once from atone of scorn to one of gentlest entreaty, "what is it you want with myhusband? I know not, indeed, if ever I saw you before. For what do youseize him? How much will you take to release him, and let us go? Namethe sum; he is rich, and--"

"RICH, Catherine!" cried Hayes. "Rich!--O heavens! Sir, I have nothingbut my hands to support me: I am a poor carpenter, sir, working under myfather!"

"He can give twenty guineas to be free; I know he can!" said Mrs. Cat. 

"I have but a guinea to carry me home, " sighed out Hayes. 

"But you have twenty at home, John, " said his wife. "Give these bravegentlemen a writing to your mother, and she will pay; and you will letus free then, gentlemen--won't you?"

"When the money's paid, yes, " said the leader, Mr. Brock. 

"Oh, in course, " echoed the tall man with the halberd. "What's athrifling detintion, my dear?" continued he, addressing Hayes. "We'llamuse you in your absence, and drink to the health of your pretty wifehere. "

This promise, to do the halberdier justice, he fulfilled. He called uponthe landlady to produce the desired liquor; and when Mr. Hayes flunghimself at that lady's feet, demanding succour from her, and askingwhether there was no law in the land--

"There's no law at the 'Three Rooks' except THIS!" said Mr. Brockin reply, holding up a horse-pistol. To which the hostess, grinning, assented, and silently went her way. 

After some further solicitations, John Hayes drew out the necessaryletter to his father, stating that he was pressed, and would not be setfree under a sum of twenty guineas; and that it would be of no useto detain the bearer of the letter, inasmuch as the gentlemen who hadpossession of him vowed that they would murder him should any harmbefall their comrade. As a further proof of the authenticity of theletter, a token was added: a ring that Hayes wore, and that his motherhad given him. 

The missives were, after some consultation, entrusted to the care of thetall halberdier, who seemed to rank as second in command of theforces that marched under Corporal Brock. This gentleman was calledindifferently Ensign, Mr. , or even Captain Macshane; his intimatesoccasionally in sport called him Nosey, from the prominence of thatfeature in his countenance; or Spindleshins, for the very reason whichbrought on the first Edward a similar nickname. Mr. Macshane thenquitted Worcester, mounted on Hayes's horse; leaving all parties at the"Three Rooks" not a little anxious for his return. 

This was not to be expected until the next morning; and a weary nuit denoces did Mr. Hayes pass. Dinner was served, and, according to promise, Mr. Brock and his two friends enjoyed the meal along with the bride andbridegroom. Punch followed, and this was taken in company; then camesupper. Mr. Brock alone partook of this, the other two gentlemenpreferring the society of their pipes and the landlady in the kitchen. 

"It is a sorry entertainment, I confess, " said the ex-corporal, "and adismal way for a gentleman to spend his bridal night; but somebody muststay with you, my dears: for who knows but you might take a fancy toscream out of window, and then there would be murder, and the deuce andall to pay. One of us must stay, and my friends love a pipe, so you mustput up with my company until they can relieve guard. "

The reader will not, of course, expect that three people who were topass the night, however unwillingly, together in an inn-room, shouldsit there dumb and moody, and without any personal communication; on thecontrary, Mr. Brock, as an old soldier, entertained his prisoners withthe utmost courtesy, and did all that lay in his power, by the helpof liquor and conversation, to render their durance tolerable. Onthe bridegroom his attentions were a good deal thrown away: Mr. Hayesconsented to drink copiously, but could not be made to talk much; and, in fact, the fright of the seizure, the fate hanging over him should hisparents refuse a ransom, and the tremendous outlay of money which wouldtake place should they accede to it, weighed altogether on his mind somuch as utterly to unman it. 

As for Mrs. Cat, I don't think she was at all sorry in her heart to seethe old Corporal: for he had been a friend of old times--dear times toher; she had had from him, too, and felt for him, not a little kindness;and there was really a very tender, innocent friendship subsistingbetween this pair of rascals, who relished much a night's conversationtogether. 

The Corporal, after treating his prisoners to punch in great quantities, proposed the amusement of cards: over which Mr. Hayes had not beenoccupied more than an hour, when he found himself so excessively sleepyas to be persuaded to fling himself down on the bed dressed as he was, and there to snore away until morning. 

Mrs. Catherine had no inclination for sleep; and the Corporal, equallywakeful, plied incessantly the bottle, and held with her a great dealof conversation. The sleep, which was equivalent to the absence, of JohnHayes took all restraint from their talk. She explained to Brock thecircumstances of her marriage, which we have already described; theywondered at the chance which had brought them together at the "ThreeRooks;" nor did Brock at all hesitate to tell her at once that hiscalling was quite illegal, and that his intention was simply to extortmoney. The worthy Corporal had not the slightest shame regarding hisown profession, and cut many jokes with Mrs. Cat about her late one; herattempt to murder the Count, and her future prospects as a wife. 

And here, having brought him upon the scene again, we may as wellshortly narrate some of the principal circumstances which befell himafter his sudden departure from Birmingham; and which he narrated withmuch candour to Mrs. Catherine. 

He rode the Captain's horse to Oxford (having exchanged his militarydress for a civil costume on the road), and at Oxford he disposed of"George of Denmark, " a great bargain, to one of the heads of colleges. As soon as Mr. Brock, who took on himself the style and title of CaptainWood, had sufficiently examined the curiosities of the University, heproceeded at once to the capital: the only place for a gentleman of hisfortune and figure. 

Here he read, with a great deal of philosophical indifference, in theDaily Post, the Courant, the Observator, the Gazette, and the chiefjournals of those days, which he made a point of examining at "Button's"and "Will's, " an accurate description of his person, his clothes, andthe horse he rode, and a promise of fifty guineas' reward to any personwho would give an account of him (so that he might be captured) toCaptain Count Galgenstein at Birmingham, to Mr. Murfey at the "GoldenBall" in the Savoy, or Mr. Bates at the "Blew Anchor in Pickadilly. " ButCaptain Wood, in an enormous full-bottomed periwig that cost him sixtypounds, [*] with high red heels to his shoes, a silver sword, and agold snuff-box, and a large wound (obtained, he said, at the siege ofBarcelona), which disfigured much of his countenance, and caused him tocover one eye, was in small danger, he thought, of being mistaken forCorporal Brock, the deserter of Cutts's; and strutted along the Mallwith as grave an air as the very best nobleman who appeared there. He was generally, indeed, voted to be very good company; and as hisexpenses were unlimited ("A few convent candlesticks, " my dear, he usedto whisper, "melt into a vast number of doubloons"), he commanded asgood society as he chose to ask for: and it was speedily known as a factthroughout town, that Captain Wood, who had served under His MajestyCharles III. Of Spain, had carried off the diamond petticoat of Our Ladyof Compostella, and lived upon the proceeds of the fraud. People weregood Protestants in those days, and many a one longed to have been hispartner in the pious plunder. 

 * In the ingenious contemporary history of Moll Flanders, a periwig is mentioned as costing that sum. 

All surmises concerning his wealth, Captain Wood, with much discretion, encouraged. He contradicted no report, but was quite ready to confirmall; and when two different rumours were positively put to him, he usedonly to laugh, and say, "My dear sir, _I_ don't make the stories; butI'm not called upon to deny them; and I give you fair warning, that Ishall assent to every one of them; so you may believe them or not, asyou please. " And so he had the reputation of being a gentleman, not onlywealthy, but discreet. In truth, it was almost a pity that worthy Brockhad not been a gentleman born; in which case, doubtless, he would havelived and died as became his station; for he spent his money likea gentleman, he loved women like a gentleman, he would fight like agentleman, he gambled and got drunk like a gentleman. What did he wantelse? Only a matter of six descents, a little money, and an estate, torender him the equal of St. John or Harley. "Ah, those were merry days!"would Mr. Brock say, --for he loved, in a good old age, to recount thestory of his London fashionable campaign;--"and when I think how nearI was to become a great man, and to die perhaps a general, I can't butmarvel at the wicked obstinacy of my ill-luck. "

"I will tell you what I did, my dear: I had lodgings in Piccadilly, asif I were a lord; I had two large periwigs, and three suits of lacedclothes; I kept a little black dressed out like a Turk; I walked dailyin the Mall; I dined at the politest ordinary in Covent Garden; Ifrequented the best of coffee-houses, and knew all the pretty fellows ofthe town; I cracked a bottle with Mr. Addison, and lent many a piece toDick Steele (a sad debauched rogue, my dear); and, above all, I'll tellyou what I did--the noblest stroke that sure ever a gentleman performedin my situation. 

"One day, going into 'Will's, ' I saw a crowd of gentlemen gatheredtogether, and heard one of them say, 'Captain Wood! I don't know theman; but there was a Captain Wood in Southwell's regiment. ' Egad, it wasmy Lord Peterborough himself who was talking about me. So, putting offmy hat, I made a most gracious conge to my Lord, and said I knew HIM, and rode behind him at Barcelona on our entry into that town. 

"'No doubt you did, Captain Wood, ' says my Lord, taking my hand; 'andno doubt you know me: for many more know Tom Fool, than Tom Fool knows. 'And with this, at which all of us laughed, my Lord called for a bottle, and he and I sat down and drank it together. 

"Well, he was in disgrace, as you know, but he grew mighty fond of me, and--would you believe it?--nothing would satisfy him but presenting meat Court! Yes, to Her Sacred Majesty the Queen, and my Lady Marlborough, who was in high feather. Ay, truly, the sentinels on duty used tosalute me as if I were Corporal John himself! I was on the high road tofortune. Charley Mordaunt used to call me Jack, and drink canary at mychambers; I used to make one at my Lord Treasurer's levee; I hadeven got Mr. Army-Secretary Walpole to take a hundred guineas as acompliment: and he had promised me a majority: when bad luck turned, andall my fine hopes were overthrown in a twinkling. 

"You see, my dear, that after we had left that gaby, Galgenstein, --ha, ha--with a gag in his mouth, and twopence-halfpenny in his pocket, thehonest Count was in the sorriest plight in the world; owing money hereand there to tradesmen, a cool thousand to the Warwickshire Squire: andall this on eighty pounds a year! Well, for a little time the tradesmenheld their hands; while the jolly Count moved heaven and earth tocatch hold of his dear Corporal and his dear money-bags over again, andplacarded every town from London to Liverpool with descriptions of mypretty person. The bird was flown, however, --the money clean gone, --andwhen there was no hope of regaining it, what did the creditors do butclap my gay gentleman into Shrewsbury gaol: where I wish he had rotted, for my part. 

"But no such luck for honest Peter Brock, or Captain Wood, as he was inthose days. One blessed Monday I went to wait on Mr. Secretary, andhe squeezed my hand and whispered to me that I was to be Major of aregiment in Virginia--the very thing: for you see, my dear, I didn'tcare about joining my Lord Duke in Flanders; being pretty well knownto the army there. The Secretary squeezed my hand (it had a fifty-poundbill in it) and wished me joy, and called me Major, and bowed me out ofhis closet into the ante-room; and, as gay as may be, I went off tothe 'Tilt-yard Coffee-house' in Whitehall, which is much frequented bygentlemen of our profession, where I bragged not a little of my goodluck. 

"Amongst the company were several of my acquaintance, and amongst thema gentleman I did not much care to see, look you! I saw a uniform thatI knew--red and yellow facings--Cutts's, my dear; and the wearer of thiswas no other than his Excellency Gustavus Adolphus Maximilian, whom weall know of!

"He stared me full in the face, right into my eye (t'other one waspatched, you know), and after standing stock-still with his mouth open, gave a step back, and then a step forward, and then screeched out, 'It'sBrock!'

"'I beg your pardon, sir, ' says I; 'did you speak to me?'

"'I'll SWEAR it's Brock, ' cries Gal, as soon as he hears my voice, andlaid hold of my cuff (a pretty bit of Mechlin as ever you saw, by theway). 

"'Sirrah!' says I, drawing it back, and giving my Lord a little touchof the fist (just at the last button of the waistcoat, my dear, --a rareplace if you wish to prevent a man from speaking too much: it sent himreeling to the other end of the room). 'Ruffian!' says I. 'Dog!' saysI. 'Insolent puppy and coxcomb! what do you mean by laying your hand onme?'

"'Faith, Major, you giv him his BILLYFUL, ' roared out a long Irishunattached ensign, that I had treated with many a glass of Nantz at thetavern. And so, indeed, I had; for the wretch could not speak for someminutes, and all the officers stood laughing at him, as he writhed andwriggled hideously. 

"'Gentlemen, this is a monstrous scandal, ' says one officer. 'Men ofrank and honour at fists like a parcel of carters!'

"'Men of honour!' says the Count, who had fetched up his breath by thistime. (I made for the door, but Macshane held me and said, 'Major, youare not going to shirk him, sure?' Whereupon I gripped his hand andvowed I would have the dog's life. )

"'Men of honour!' says the Count. 'I tell you the man is a deserter, athief, and a swindler! He was my corporal, and ran away with a thou--'

"'Dog, you lie!' I roared out, and made another cut at him with my cane;but the gentlemen rushed between us. 

"'O bluthanowns!' says honest Macshane, 'the lying scounthrel thisfellow is! Gentlemen, I swear be me honour that Captain Wood was woundedat Barcelona; and that I saw him there; and that he and I ran awaytogether at the battle of Almanza, and bad luck to us. '

"You see, my dear, that these Irish have the strongest imaginations inthe world; and that I had actually persuaded poor Mac that he and I werefriends in Spain. Everybody knew Mac, who was a character in his way, and believed him. 

"'Strike a gentleman, ' says I. 'I'll have your blood, I will. '

"'This instant, ' says the Count, who was boiling with fury; 'and whereyou like. '

"'Montague House, ' says I. 'Good, ' says he. And off we went. Ingood time too, for the constables came in at the thought of such adisturbance, and wanted to take us in charge. 

"But the gentlemen present, being military men, would not hear ofthis. Out came Mac's rapier, and that of half-a-dozen others; and theconstables were then told to do their duty if they liked, or to take acrown-piece, and leave us to ourselves. Off they went; and presently, ina couple of coaches, the Count and his friends, I and mine, drove off tothe fields behind Montague House. Oh that vile coffee-house! why did Ienter it?

"We came to the ground. Honest Macshane was my second, and muchdisappointed because the second on the other side would not make a fightof it, and exchange a few passes with him; but he was an old major, a cool old hand, as brave as steel, and no fool. Well, the swordsare measured, Galgenstein strips off his doublet, and I my handsomecut-velvet in like fashion. Galgenstein flings off his hat, and I handedmine over--the lace on it cost me twenty pounds. I longed to be at him, for--curse him!--I hate him, and know that he has no chance with me atsword's-play. 

"'You'll not fight in that periwig, sure?' says Macshane. 'Of coursenot, ' says I, and took it off. 

"May all barbers be roasted in flames; may all periwigs, bobwigs, scratchwigs, and Ramillies cocks, frizzle in purgatory from this dayforth to the end of time! Mine was the ruin of me: what might I not havebeen now but for that wig!

"I gave it over to Ensign Macshane, and with it went what I had quiteforgotten, the large patch which I wore over one eye, which popped outfierce, staring, and lively as was ever any eye in the world. 

"'Come on!' says I, and made a lunge at my Count; but he sprang back(the dog was as active as a hare, and knew, from old times, that I washis master with the small-sword), and his second, wondering, struck upmy blade. 

"'I will not fight that man, ' says he, looking mighty pale. 'I swearupon my honour that his name is Peter Brock: he was for two yearsmy corporal, and deserted, running away with a thousand pounds of mymoneys. Look at the fellow! What is the matter with his eye? why did hewear a patch over it? But stop!' says he. 'I have more proof. Hand memy pocket-book. ' And from it, sure enough, he produced the infernalproclamation announcing my desertion! 'See if the fellow has a scaracross his left ear' (and I can't say, my dear, but what I have: it wasdone by a cursed Dutchman at the Boyne). 'Tell me if he has not gotC. R. In blue upon his right arm' (and there it is sure enough). 'Yonderswaggering Irishman may be his accomplice for what I know; but I willhave no dealings with Mr. Brock, save with a constable for a second. '

"'This is an odd story, Captain Wood, ' said the old Major who acted forthe Count. 

"'A scounthrelly falsehood regarding me and my friend!' shouted out Mr. Macshane; 'and the Count shall answer for it. '

"'Stop, stop!' says the Major. 'Captain Wood is too gallant a gentleman, I am sure, not to satisfy the Count; and will show us that he has nosuch mark on his arm as only private soldiers put there. '

"'Captain Wood, ' says I, 'will do no such thing, Major. I'll fight thatscoundrel Galgenstein, or you, or any of you, like a man of honour; butI won't submit to be searched like a thief!'

"'No, in coorse, ' said Macshane. 

"'I must take my man off the ground, ' says the Major. 

"'Well, take him, sir, ' says I, in a rage; 'and just let me have thepleasure of telling him that he's a coward and a liar; and that mylodgings are in Piccadilly, where, if ever he finds courage to meet me, he may hear of me!'

"'Faugh! I shpit on ye all, ' cries my gallant ally Macshane. And sureenough he kept his word, or all but--suiting the action to it at anyrate. 

"And so we gathered up our clothes, and went back in our separatecoaches, and no blood spilt. 

"'And is it thrue now, ' said Mr. Macshane, when we were alone--'isit thrue now, all these divvles have been saying?' 'Ensign, ' says I, 'you're a man of the world?'

"''Deed and I am, and insign these twenty-two years. '

"'Perhaps you'd like a few pieces?' says I. 

"'Faith and I should; for to tell you the secred thrut, I've not tastedmate these four days. '

"'Well then, Ensign, it IS true, ' says I; 'and as for meat, you shallhave some at the first cook-shop. ' I bade the coach stop until he boughta plateful, which he ate in the carriage, for my time was precious. Ijust told him the whole story: at which he laughed, and swore that itwas the best piece of GENERALSHIP he ever heard on. When his belly wasfull, I took out a couple of guineas and gave them to him. Mr. Macshanebegan to cry at this, and kissed me, and swore he never would desert me:as, indeed, my dear, I don't think he will; for we have been the best offriends ever since, and he's the only man I ever could trust, I think. 

"I don't know what put it into my head, but I had a scent of somemischief in the wind; so stopped the coach a little before I got home, and, turning into a tavern, begged Macshane to go before me to mylodging, and see if the coast was clear: which he did; and came back tome as pale as death, saying that the house was full of constables. Thecursed quarrel at the Tilt-yard had, I suppose, set the beaks upon me;and a pretty sweep they made of it. Ah, my dear! five hundred poundsin money, five suits of laced clothes, three periwigs, besides lacedshirts, swords, canes, and snuff-boxes; and all to go back to thatscoundrel Count. 

"It was all over with me, I saw--no more being a gentleman for me; andif I remained to be caught, only a choice between Tyburn and a fileof grenadiers. My love, under such circumstances, a gentleman can't beparticular, and must be prompt; the livery-stable was hard by where Iused to hire my coach to go to Court, --ha! ha!--and was known as a manof substance. Thither I went immediately. 'Mr. Warmmash, ' says I, 'my gallant friend here and I have a mind for a ride and a supper atTwickenham, so you must lend us a pair of your best horses. ' Which hedid in a twinkling, and off we rode. 

"We did not go into the Park, but turned off and cantered smartly uptowards Kilburn; and, when we got into the country, galloped as ifthe devil were at our heels. Bless you, my love, it was all done ina minute: and the Ensign and I found ourselves regular knights of theroad, before we knew where we were almost. Only think of our finding youand your new husband at the 'Three Rooks'! There's not a greater fencethan the landlady in all the country. It was she that put us on seizingyour husband, and introduced us to the other two gentlemen, whose namesI don't know any more than the dead. "

"And what became of the horses?" said Mrs. Catherine to Mr. Brock, whenhis tale was finished. 

"Rips, madam, " said he; "mere rips. We sold them at Stourbridge fair, and got but thirteen guineas for the two. "

"And--and--the Count, Max; where is he, Brock?" sighed she. 

"Whew!" whistled Mr. Brock. "What, hankering after him still? My dear, he is off to Flanders with his regiment; and, I make no doubt, therehave been twenty Countesses of Galgenstein since your time. "

"I don't believe any such thing, sir, " said Mrs. Catherine, starting upvery angrily. 

"If you did, I suppose you'd laudanum him; wouldn't you?"

"Leave the room, fellow, " said the lady. But she recollected herselfspeedily again; and, clasping her hands, and looking very wretchedat Brock, at the ceiling, at the floor, at her husband (from whom sheviolently turned away her head), she began to cry piteously: to whichtears the Corporal set up a gentle accompaniment of whistling, as theytrickled one after another down her nose. 

I don't think they were tears of repentance; but of regret for the timewhen she had her first love, and her fine clothes, and her white hat andblue feather. Of the two, the Corporal's whistle was much more innocentthan the girl's sobbing: he was a rogue; but a good-natured old fellowwhen his humour was not crossed. Surely our novel-writers make a greatmistake in divesting their rascals of all gentle human qualities:they have such--and the only sad point to think of is, in all privateconcerns of life, abstract feelings, and dealings with friends, andso on, how dreadfully like a rascal is to an honest man. The man whomurdered the Italian boy, set him first to play with his children whomhe loved, and who doubtless deplored his loss. 

CHAPTER VI. ADVENTURES OF THE AMBASSADOR, MR. MACSHANE. 

If we had not been obliged to follow history in all respects, itis probable that we should have left out the last adventure of Mrs. Catherine and her husband, at the inn at Worcester, altogether; for, intruth, very little came of it, and it is not very romantic or striking. But we are bound to stick closely, above all, by THE TRUTH--the truth, though it be not particularly pleasant to read of or to tell. As anybodymay read in the "Newgate Calendar, " Mr. And Mrs. Hayes were taken atan inn at Worcester; were confined there; were swindled by persons whopretended to impress the bridegroom for military service. What is oneto do after that? Had we been writing novels instead of authentichistories, we might have carried them anywhere else we chose: and wehad a great mind to make Hayes philosophising with Bolingbroke, like acertain Devereux; and Mrs. Catherine maitresse en titre to Mr. AlexanderPope, Doctor Sacheverel, Sir John Reade the oculist, Dean Swift, or Marshal Tallard; as the very commonest romancer would under suchcircumstances. But alas and alas! truth must be spoken, whatever elseis in the wind; and the excellent "Newgate Calendar, " which contains thebiographies and thanatographies of Hayes and his wife, does not say aword of their connections with any of the leading literary or militaryheroes of the time of Her Majesty Queen Anne. The "Calendar" says, in somany words, that Hayes was obliged to send to his father in Warwickshirefor money to get him out of the scrape, and that the old gentleman camedown to his aid. By this truth must we stick; and not for the sake ofthe most brilliant episode, --no, not for a bribe of twenty extra guineasper sheet, would we depart from it. 

Mr. Brock's account of his adventure in London has given the readersome short notice of his friend, Mr Macshane. Neither the wits nor theprinciples of that worthy Ensign were particularly firm: for drink, poverty, and a crack on the skull at the battle of Steenkirk had servedto injure the former; and the Ensign was not in his best days possessedof any share of the latter. He had really, at one period, held such arank in the army, but pawned his half-pay for drink and play; and formany years past had lived, one of the hundred thousand miracles of ourcity, upon nothing that anybody knew of, or of which he himself couldgive any account. Who has not a catalogue of these men in his list?who can tell whence comes the occasional clean shirt, who suppliesthe continual means of drunkenness, who wards off the daily-impendingstarvation? Their life is a wonder from day to day: their breakfasta wonder; their dinner a miracle; their bed an interposition ofProvidence. If you and I, my dear sir, want a shilling tomorrow, whowill give it us? Will OUR butchers give us mutton-chops? will OURlaundresses clothe us in clean linen?--not a bone or a rag. Standing aswe do (may it be ever so) somewhat removed from want, [*] is there one ofus who does not shudder at the thought of descending into the lists tocombat with it, and expect anything but to be utterly crushed in theencounter?

 * The author, it must be remembered, has his lodgings and food provided for him by the government of his country. 

Not a bit of it, my dear sir. It takes much more than you think for tostarve a man. Starvation is very little when you are used to it. Somepeople I know even, who live on it quite comfortably, and make theirdaily bread by it. It had been our friend Macshane's sole profession formany years; and he did not fail to draw from it such a livelihood as wassufficient, and perhaps too good, for him. He managed to dine upon ita certain or rather uncertain number of days in the week, to sleepsomewhere, and to get drunk at least three hundred times a year. Hewas known to one or two noblemen who occasionally helped him with afew pieces, and whom he helped in turn--never mind how. He hadother acquaintances whom he pestered undauntedly; and from whom heoccasionally extracted a dinner, or a crown, or mayhap, by mistake, agoldheaded cane, which found its way to the pawnbroker's. When flush ofcash, he would appear at the coffee-house; when low in funds, the deuceknows into what mystic caves and dens he slunk for food and lodging. Hewas perfectly ready with his sword, and when sober, or better still, avery little tipsy, was a complete master of it; in the art of boastingand lying he had hardly any equals; in shoes he stood six feet fiveinches; and here is his complete signalement. It was a fact that he hadbeen in Spain as a volunteer, where he had shown some gallantry, had hada brain-fever, and was sent home to starve as before. 

Mr. Macshane had, however, like Mr. Conrad, the Corsair, one virtue inthe midst of a thousand crimes, --he was faithful to his employer for thetime being: and a story is told of him, which may or may not be tohis credit, viz. That being hired on one occasion by a certain lord toinflict a punishment upon a roturier who had crossed his lordship inhis amours, he, Macshane, did actually refuse from the person to bebelaboured, and who entreated his forbearance, a larger sum ofmoney than the nobleman gave him for the beating; which he performedpunctually, as bound in honour and friendship. This tale would theEnsign himself relate, with much self-satisfaction; and when, after thesudden flight from London, he and Brock took to their roving occupation, he cheerfully submitted to the latter as his commanding officer, calledhim always Major, and, bating blunders and drunkenness, was perfectlytrue to his leader. He had a notion--and, indeed, I don't know thatit was a wrong one--that his profession was now, as before, strictlymilitary, and according to the rules of honour. Robbing he calledplundering the enemy; and hanging was, in his idea, a dastardly andcruel advantage that the latter took, and that called for the sternestreprisals. 

The other gentlemen concerned were strangers to Mr. Brock, who feltlittle inclined to trust either of them upon such a message, or withsuch a large sum to bring back. They had, strange to say, a similarmistrust on their side; but Mr. Brock lugged out five guineas, which heplaced in the landlady's hand as security for his comrade's return; andEnsign Macshane, being mounted on poor Hayes's own horse, set off tovisit the parents of that unhappy young man. It was a gallant sight tobehold our thieves' ambassador, in a faded sky-blue suit with orangefacings, in a pair of huge jack-boots unconscious of blacking, witha mighty basket-hilted sword by his side, and a little shabby beavercocked over a large tow-periwig, ride out from the inn of the "ThreeRooks" on his mission to Hayes's paternal village. 

It was eighteen miles distant from Worcester; but Mr. Macshane performedthe distance in safety, and in sobriety moreover (for such had been hisinstructions), and had no difficulty in discovering the house of oldHayes: towards which, indeed, John's horse trotted incontinently. Mrs. Hayes, who was knitting at the house-door, was not a little surprisedat the appearance of the well-known grey gelding, and of the strangermounted upon it. 

Flinging himself off the steed with much agility, Mr. Macshane, as soonas his feet reached the ground, brought them rapidly together, in orderto make a profound and elegant bow to Mrs. Hayes; and slapping hisgreasy beaver against his heart, and poking his periwig almost into thenose of the old lady, demanded whether he had the "shooprame honour ofadthressing Misthriss Hees?"

Having been answered in the affirmative, he then proceeded to askwhether there was a blackguard boy in the house who would take "thehorse to the steeble;" whether "he could have a dthrink of small-beeror buthermilk, being, faith, uncommon dthry;" and whether, finally, "hecould be feevored with a few minutes' private conversation with herand Mr. Hees, on a matther of consitherable impartance. " All thesepreliminaries were to be complied with before Mr. Macshane would enterat all into the subject of his visit. The horse and man were cared for;Mr. Hayes was called in; and not a little anxious did Mrs. Hayes grow, in the meanwhile, with regard to the fate of her darling son. "Where ishe? How is he? Is he dead?" said the old lady. "Oh yes, I'm sure he'sdead!"

"Indeed, madam, and you're misteeken intirely: the young man isperfectly well in health. "

"Oh, praised be Heaven!"

"But mighty cast down in sperrits. To misfortunes, madam, look you, thebest of us are subject; and a trifling one has fell upon your son. "

And herewith Mr. Macshane produced a letter in the handwriting of youngHayes, of which we have had the good luck to procure a copy. It ranthus:--

"HONORED FATHER AND MOTHER, --The bearer of this is a kind gentleman, whohas left me in a great deal of trouble. Yesterday, at this towne, I fellin with some gentlemen of the queene's servas; after drinking withwhom, I accepted her Majesty's mony to enliste. Repenting thereof, I didendeavour to escape; and, in so doing, had the misfortune to strike mysuperior officer, whereby I made myself liable to Death, according tothe rules of warr. If, however, I pay twenty ginnys, all will be wel. You must give the same to the barer, els I shall be shott without failon Tewsday morning. And so no more from your loving son, "JOHN HAYES. 

"From my prison at Bristol, this unhappy Monday. "

When Mrs. Hayes read this pathetic missive, its success with herwas complete, and she was for going immediately to the cupboard, andproducing the money necessary for her darling son's release. But thecarpenter Hayes was much more suspicious. "I don't know you, sir, " saidhe to the ambassador. 

"Do you doubt my honour, sir?" said the Ensign, very fiercely. 

"Why, sir, " replied Mr. Hayes "I know little about it one way or other, but shall take it for granted, if you will explain a little more of thisbusiness. "

"I sildom condescind to explean, " said Mr. Macshane, "for it's not thecustom in my rank; but I'll explean anything in reason. "

"Pray, will you tell me in what regiment my son is enlisted?"

"In coorse. In Colonel Wood's fut, my dear; and a gallant corps it is asany in the army. "

"And you left him?"

"On me soul, only three hours ago, having rid like a horse-jockey eversince; as in the sacred cause of humanity, curse me, every man should. "

As Hayes's house was seventy miles from Bristol, the old gentlemanthought this was marvellous quick riding, and so, cut the conversationshort. "You have said quite enough, sir, " said he, "to show me thereis some roguery in the matter, and that the whole story is false frombeginning to end. "

At this abrupt charge the Ensign looked somewhat puzzled, and then spokewith much gravity. "Roguery, " said he, "Misthur Hees, is a sthrong term;and which, in consideration of my friendship for your family, I shallpass over. You doubt your son's honour, as there wrote by him in blackand white?"

"You have forced him to write, " said Mr. Hayes. 

"The sly old divvle's right, " muttered Mr. Macshane, aside. "Well, sir, to make a clean breast of it, he HAS been forced to write it. The storyabout the enlistment is a pretty fib, if you will, from beginning toend. And what then, my dear? Do you think your son's any better off forthat?"

"Oh, where is he?" screamed Mrs. Hayes, plumping down on her knees. "WeWILL give him the money, won't we, John?"

"I know you will, madam, when I tell you where he is. He is in the handsof some gentlemen of my acquaintance, who are at war with the presentgovernment, and no more care about cutting a man's throat than they doa chicken's. He is a prisoner, madam, of our sword and spear. If youchoose to ransom him, well and good; if not, peace be with him! fornever more shall you see him. "

"And how do I know you won't come back to-morrow for more money?" askedMr. Hayes. 

"Sir, you have my honour; and I'd as lieve break my neck as my word, "said Mr. Macshane, gravely. "Twenty guineas is the bargain. Take tenminutes to talk of it--take it then, or leave it; it's all the sameto me, my dear. " And it must be said of our friend the Ensign, that hemeant every word he said, and that he considered the embassy on which hehad come as perfectly honourable and regular. 

"And pray, what prevents us, " said Mr. Hayes, starting up in a rage, "from taking hold of you, as a surety for him?"

"You wouldn't fire on a flag of truce, would ye, you dishonourableould civilian?" replied Mr. Macshane. "Besides, " says he, "there's morereasons to prevent you: the first is this, " pointing to his sword; "hereare two more"--and these were pistols; "and the last and the best of allis, that you might hang me and dthraw me and quarther me, an yet neversee so much as the tip of your son's nose again. Look you, sir, we runmighty risks in our profession--it's not all play, I can tell you. We're obliged to be punctual, too, or it's all up with the thrade. If Ipromise that your son will die as sure as fate to-morrow morning, unlessI return home safe, our people MUST keep my promise; or else what chanceis there for me? You would be down upon me in a moment with a posse ofconstables, and have me swinging before Warwick gaol. Pooh, my dear! younever would sacrifice a darling boy like John Hayes, let alone his lady, for the sake of my long carcass. One or two of our gentlemen have beentaken that way already, because parents and guardians would not believethem. "

"AND WHAT BECAME OF THE POOR CHILDREN?" said Mrs. Hayes, who began toperceive the gist of the argument, and to grow dreadfully frightened. 

"Don't let's talk of them, ma'am: humanity shudthers at the thought!"And herewith Mr. Macshane drew his finger across his throat in such adreadful way as to make the two parents tremble. "It's the way of war, madam, look you. The service I have the honour to belong to is not paidby the Queen; and so we're obliged to make our prisoners pay, accordingto established military practice. "

No lawyer could have argued his case better than Mr. Macshane so far;and he completely succeeded in convincing Mr. And Mrs. Hayes of thenecessity of ransoming their son. Promising that the young man shouldbe restored to them next morning, along with his beautiful lady, hecourteously took leave of the old couple, and made the best of his wayback to Worcester again. The elder Hayes wondered who the lady couldbe of whom the ambassador had spoken, for their son's elopement wasaltogether unknown to them; but anger or doubt about this subject wasoverwhelmed by their fears for their darling John's safety. Away rodethe gallant Macshane with the money necessary to effect this; and itmust be mentioned, as highly to his credit, that he never once thoughtof appropriating the sum to himself, or of deserting his comrades in anyway. 

His ride from Worcester had been a long one. He had left that cityat noon, but before his return thither the sun had gone down; and thelandscape, which had been dressed like a prodigal, in purple andgold, now appeared like a Quaker, in dusky grey; and the trees by theroad-side grew black as undertakers or physicians, and, bending theirsolemn heads to each other, whispered ominously among themselves; andthe mists hung on the common; and the cottage lights went out one byone; and the earth and heaven grew black, but for some twinkling uselessstars, which freckled the ebon countenance of the latter; and theair grew colder; and about two o'clock the moon appeared, a dismalpale-faced rake, walking solitary through the deserted sky; and aboutfour, mayhap, the Dawn (wretched 'prentice-boy!) opened in the eastthe shutters of the Day:--in other words, more than a dozen hours hadpassed. Corporal Brock had been relieved by Mr. Redcap, the latter byMr. Sicklop, the one-eyed gentleman; Mrs. John Hayes, in spite of hersorrows and bashfulness, had followed the example of her husband, andfallen asleep by his side--slept for many hours--and awakened stillunder the guardianship of Mr. Brock's troop; and all parties begananxiously to expect the return of the ambassador, Mr. Macshane. 

That officer, who had performed the first part of his journey with suchdistinguished prudence and success, found the night, on his journeyhomewards, was growing mighty cold and dark; and as he was thirsty andhungry, had money in his purse, and saw no cause to hurry, he determinedto take refuge at an alehouse for the night, and to make for Worcesterby dawn the next morning. He accordingly alighted at the first inn onhis road, consigned his horse to the stable, and, entering the kitchen, called for the best liquor in the house. 

A small company was assembled at the inn, among whom Mr. Macshane tookhis place with a great deal of dignity; and, having a considerable sumof money in his pocket, felt a mighty contempt for his society, and soonlet them know the contempt he felt for them. After a third flagon ofale, he discovered that the liquor was sour, and emptied, with muchspluttering and grimaces, the remainder of the beer into the fire. Thisprocess so offended the parson of the parish (who in those good oldtimes did not disdain to take the post of honour in the chimney-nook), that he left his corner, looking wrathfully at the offender; who withoutany more ado instantly occupied it. It was a fine thing to hearthe jingling of the twenty pieces in his pocket, the oaths which hedistributed between the landlord, the guests, and the liquor--to remarkthe sprawl of his mighty jack-boots, before the sweep of which the timidguests edged farther and farther away; and the languishing leers whichhe cast on the landlady, as with wide-spread arms he attempted to seizeupon her. 

When the ostler had done his duties in the stable, he entered the inn, and whispered the landlord that "the stranger was riding John Hayes'shorse:" of which fact the host soon convinced himself, and did not failto have some suspicions of his guest. Had he not thought that timeswere unquiet, horses might be sold, and one man's money was as good asanother's, he probably would have arrested the Ensign immediately, andso lost all the profit of the score which the latter was causing everymoment to be enlarged. 

In a couple of hours, with that happy facility which one may haveoften remarked in men of the gallant Ensign's nation, he had managed todisgust every one of the landlord's other guests, and scare them fromthe kitchen. Frightened by his addresses, the landlady too had takenflight; and the host was the only person left in the apartment; whothere stayed for interest's sake merely, and listened moodily tohis tipsy guest's conversation. In an hour more, the whole house wasawakened by a violent noise of howling, curses, and pots clattering toand fro. Forth issued Mrs. Landlady in her night-gear, out came JohnOstler with his pitchfork, downstairs tumbled Mrs. Cook and one or twoguests, and found the landlord and ensign on the kitchen-floor--the wigof the latter lying, much singed and emitting strange odours, in thefireplace, his face hideously distorted, and a great quantity of hisnatural hair in the partial occupation of the landlord; who had drawn itand the head down towards him, in order that he might have the benefitof pummelling the latter more at his ease. In revenge, the landlord wasundermost, and the Ensign's arms were working up and down his face andbody like the flaps of a paddle-wheel: the man of war had clearly thebest of it. 

The combatants were separated as soon as possible; but, as soon as theexcitement of the fight was over, Ensign Macshane was found to have nofurther powers of speech, sense, or locomotion, and was carried by hislate antagonist to bed. His sword and pistols, which had been placed athis side at the commencement of the evening, were carefully put by, and his pocket visited. Twenty guineas in gold, a large knife--used, probably, for the cutting of bread-and-cheese--some crumbs of thosedelicacies and a paper of tobacco found in the breeches-pockets, and inthe bosom of the sky-blue coat, the leg of a cold fowl and half of a rawonion, constituted his whole property. 

These articles were not very suspicious; but the beating which thelandlord had received tended greatly to confirm his own and his wife'sdoubts about their guest; and it was determined to send off in the earlymorning to Mr. Hayes, informing him how a person had lain at their innwho had ridden thither mounted upon young Hayes's horse. Off set JohnOstler at earliest dawn; but on his way he woke up Mr. Justice's clerk, and communicated his suspicions to him; and Mr. Clerk consulted with thevillage baker, who was always up early; and the clerk, the baker, thebutcher with his cleaver, and two gentlemen who were going to work, alladjourned to the inn. 

Accordingly, when Ensign Macshane was in a truckle-bed, plunged in thatdeep slumber which only innocence and drunkenness enjoy in this world, and charming the ears of morn by the regular and melodious music ofhis nose, a vile plot was laid against him; and when about seven of theclock he woke, he found, on sitting up in his bed, three gentlemen oneach side of it, armed, and looking ominous. One held a constable'sstaff, and albeit unprovided with a warrant, would take upon himself theresponsibility of seizing Mr. Macshane and of carrying him before hisworship at the hall. 

"Taranouns, man!" said the Ensign, springing up in bed, and abruptlybreaking off a loud sonorous yawn, with which he had opened the businessof the day, "you won't deteen a gentleman who's on life and death? Igive ye my word, an affair of honour. "

"How came you by that there horse?" said the baker. 

"How came you by these here fifteen guineas?" said the landlord, inwhose hands, by some process, five of the gold pieces had disappeared. 

"What is this here idolatrous string of beads?" said the clerk. 

Mr. Macshane, the fact is, was a Catholic, but did not care to own it:for in those days his religion was not popular. 

"Baids? Holy Mother of saints! give me back them baids, " said Mr. Macshane, clasping his hands. "They were blest, I tell you, by hisholiness the po--psha! I mane they belong to a darling little daughterI had that's in heaven now: and as for the money and the horse, I shouldlike to know how a gentleman is to travel in this counthry withoutthem. "

"Why, you see, he may travel in the country to GIT 'em, " here shrewdlyremarked the constable; "and it's our belief that neither horse normoney is honestly come by. If his worship is satisfied, why so, incourse, shall we be; but there is highwaymen abroad, look you; and, toour notion, you have very much the cut of one. "

Further remonstrances or threats on the part of Mr. Macshane wereuseless. Although he vowed that he was first cousin to the Duke ofLeinster, an officer in Her Majesty's service, and the dearest friendLord Marlborough had, his impudent captors would not believe a word ofhis statement (which, further, was garnished with a tremendous numberof oaths); and he was, about eight o'clock, carried up to the house ofSquire Ballance, the neighbouring justice of the peace. 

When the worthy magistrate asked the crime of which the prisoner hadbeen guilty, the captors looked somewhat puzzled for the moment; since, in truth, it could not be shown that the Ensign had committed any crimeat all; and if he had confined himself to simple silence, and thrownupon them the onus of proving his misdemeanours, Justice Ballance musthave let him loose, and soundly rated his clerk and the landlord fordetaining an honest gentleman on so frivolous a charge. 

But this caution was not in the Ensign's disposition; and though hisaccusers produced no satisfactory charge against him, his own words werequite enough to show how suspicious his character was. When asked hisname, he gave it in as Captain Geraldine, on his way to Ireland, by Bristol, on a visit to his cousin the Duke of Leinster. Heswore solemnly that his friends, the Duke of Marlborough and LordPeterborough, under both of whom he had served, should hear of themanner in which he had been treated; and when the justice, --a sly oldgentleman, and one that read the Gazettes, asked him at what battles hehad been present, the gallant Ensign pitched on a couple in Spain and inFlanders, which had been fought within a week of each other, and vowedthat he had been desperately wounded at both; so that, at the end of hisexamination, which had been taken down by the clerk, he had been madeto acknowledge as follows:--Captain Geraldine, six feet four inches inheight; thin, with a very long red nose, and red hair; grey eyes, andspeaks with a strong Irish accent; is the first-cousin of the Duke ofLeinster, and in constant communication with him: does not know whetherhis Grace has any children; does not know whereabouts he livesin London; cannot say what sort of a looking man his Grace is: isacquainted with the Duke of Marlborough, and served in the dragoons atthe battle of Ramillies; at which time he was with my Lord Peterboroughbefore Barcelona. Borrowed the horse which he rides from a friend inLondon, three weeks since. Peter Hobbs, ostler, swears that it was inhis master's stable four days ago, and is the property of John Hayes, carpenter. Cannot account for the fifteen guineas found on him by thelandlord; says there were twenty; says he won them at cards, a fortnightsince, at Edinburgh; says he is riding about the country for hisamusement: afterwards says he is on a matter of life and death, andgoing to Bristol; declared last night, in the hearing of severalwitnesses, that he was going to York; says he is a man of independentproperty, and has large estates in Ireland, and a hundred thousandpounds in the Bank of England. Has no shirt or stockings, and the coathe wears is marked "S. S. " In his boots is written "Thomas Rodgers, " andin his hat is the name of the "Rev. Doctor Snoffler. "

Doctor Snoffler lived at Worcester, and had lately advertised in the Hueand Cry a number of articles taken from his house. Mr. Macshane said, in reply to this, that his hat had been changed at the inn, and he wasready to take his oath that he came thither in a gold-laced one. Butthis fact was disproved by the oaths of many persons who had seen him atthe inn. And he was about to be imprisoned for the thefts which he hadnot committed (the fact about the hat being, that he had purchased itfrom a gentleman at the "Three Rooks" for two pints of beer)--he wasabout to be remanded, when, behold, Mrs. Hayes the elder made herappearance; and to her it was that the Ensign was indebted for hisfreedom. 

Old Hayes had gone to work before the ostler arrived; but when his wifeheard the lad's message, she instantly caused her pillion to be placedbehind the saddle, and mounting the grey horse, urged the stable-boy togallop as hard as ever he could to the justice's house. 

She entered panting and alarmed. "Oh, what is your honour going to doto this honest gentleman?" said she. "In the name of Heaven, let him go!His time is precious--he has important business--business of life anddeath. "

"I tould the jidge so, " said the Ensign, "but he refused to take myword--the sacred wurrd of honour of Captain Geraldine. "

Macshane was good at a single lie, though easily flustered on anexamination; and this was a very creditable stratagem to acquaint Mrs. Hayes with the name that he bore. 

"What! you know Captain Geraldine?" said Mr. Ballance, who was perfectlywell acquainted with the carpenter's wife. 

"In coorse she does. Hasn't she known me these tin years? Are we notrelated? Didn't she give me the very horse which I rode, and, to makebelave, tould you I'd bought in London?"

"Let her tell her own story. Are you related to Captain Geraldine, Mrs. Hayes?"

"Yes--oh, yes!"

"A very elegant connection! And you gave him the horse, did you, of yourown free-will?"

"Oh yes! of my own will--I would give him anything. Do, do, your honour, let him go! His child is dying, " said the old lady, bursting intotears. "It may be dead before he gets to--before he gets there. Oh, yourhonour, your honour, pray, pray, don't detain him!"

The justice did not seem to understand this excessive sympathy on thepart of Mrs. Hayes; nor did the father himself appear to be nearly soaffected by his child's probable fate as the honest woman who interestedherself for him. On the contrary, when she made this passionate speech, Captain Geraldine only grinned, and said, "Niver mind, my dear. Ifhis honour will keep an honest gentleman for doing nothing, why, lethim--the law must settle between us; and as for the child, poor thing, the Lord deliver it!"

At this, Mrs. Hayes fell to entreating more loudly than ever; and asthere was really no charge against him, Mr. Ballance was constrained tolet him go. 

The landlord and his friends were making off, rather confused, whenEnsign Macshane called upon the former in a thundering voice to stop, and refund the five guineas which he had stolen from him. Again the hostswore there were but fifteen in his pocket. But when, on the Bible, theEnsign solemnly vowed that he had twenty, and called upon Mrs. Hayes tosay whether yesterday, half-an-hour before he entered the inn, she hadnot seen him with twenty guineas, and that lady expressed herself readyto swear that she had, Mr. Landlord looked more crestfallen than ever, and said that he had not counted the money when he took it; and thoughhe did in his soul believe that there were only fifteen guineas, ratherthan be suspected of a shabby action, he would pay the five guineas outof his own pocket: which he did, and with the Ensign's, or rather Mrs. Hayes's, own coin. 

As soon as they were out of the justice's house, Mr. Macshane, in thefulness of his gratitude, could not help bestowing an embrace uponMrs. Hayes. And when she implored him to let her ride behind him to herdarling son, he yielded with a very good grace, and off the pair set onJohn Hayes's grey. 

"Who has Nosey brought with him now?" said Mr. Sicklop, Brock's one-eyedconfederate, who, about three hours after the above adventure, waslolling in the yard of the "Three Rooks. " It was our Ensign, with themother of his captive. They had not met with any accident in their ride. 

"I shall now have the shooprame bliss, " said Mr. Macshane, with muchfeeling, as he lifted Mrs. Hayes from the saddle---"the shooprame blissof intwining two harrts that are mead for one another. Ours, my dear, is a dismal profession; but ah! don't moments like this make amindsfor years of pain? This way, my dear. Turn to your right, then to yourleft--mind the stip--and the third door round the corner. "

All these precautions were attended to; and after giving his concertedknock, Mr. Macshane was admitted into an apartment, which he enteredholding his gold pieces in the one hand, and a lady by the other. 

We shall not describe the meeting which took place between mother andson. The old lady wept copiously; the young man was really glad to seehis relative, for he deemed that his troubles were over. Mrs. Cat bither lips, and stood aside, looking somewhat foolish; Mr. Brock countedthe money; and Mr. Macshane took a large dose of strong waters, as apleasing solace for his labours, dangers, and fatigue. 

When the maternal feelings were somewhat calmed, the old lady hadleisure to look about her, and really felt a kind of friendship andgoodwill for the company of thieves in which she found herself. Itseemed to her that they had conferred an actual favour on her, inrobbing her of twenty guineas, threatening her son's life, and finallyletting him go. 

"Who is that droll old gentleman?" said she; and being told that it wasCaptain Wood, she dropped him a curtsey, and said, with much respect, "Captain, your very humble servant;" which compliment Mr. Brockacknowledged by a gracious smile and bow. "And who is this pretty younglady?" continued Mrs. Hayes. 

"Why--hum--oh--mother, you must give her your blessing. She is Mrs. JohnHayes. " And herewith Mr. Hayes brought forward his interesting lady, tointroduce her to his mamma. 

The news did not at all please the old lady; who received Mrs. Catherine's embrace with a very sour face indeed. However, the mischiefwas done; and she was too glad to get back her son to be, on such anoccasion, very angry with him. So, after a proper rebuke, she told Mrs. John Hayes that though she never approved of her son's attachment, andthought he married below his condition, yet as the evil was done, it wastheir duty to make the best of it; and she, for her part, would receiveher into her house, and make her as comfortable there as she could. 

"I wonder whether she has any more money in that house?" whispered Mr. Sicklop to Mr. Redcap; who, with the landlady, had come to the door ofthe room, and had been amusing themselves by the contemplation of thissentimental scene. 

"What a fool that wild Hirishman was not to bleed her for more!" saidthe landlady; "but he's a poor ignorant Papist. I'm sure my man"(this gentleman had been hanged), "wouldn't have come away with such abeggarly sum. "

"Suppose we have some more out of 'em?" said Mr. Redcap. "What preventsus? We have got the old mare, and the colt too, --ha! ha!--and the pairof 'em ought to be worth at least a hundred to us. "

This conversation was carried on sotto voce; and I don't know whetherMr. Brock had any notion of the plot which was arranged by the threeworthies. The landlady began it. "Which punch, madam, will you take?"says she. "You must have something for the good of the house, now youare in it. "

"In coorse, " said the Ensign. 

"Certainly, " said the other three. But the old lady said she was anxiousto leave the place; and putting down a crown-piece, requested thehostess to treat the gentlemen in her absence. "Good-bye, Captain, " saidthe old lady. 

"Ajew!" cried the Ensign, "and long life to you, my dear. You got me outof a scrape at the justice's yonder; and, split me! but Insign Macshanewill remimber it as long as he lives. "

And now Hayes and the two ladies made for the door; but the landladyplaced herself against it, and Mr. Sicklop said, "No, no, my prettymadams, you ain't a-going off so cheap as that neither; you are notgoing out for a beggarly twenty guineas, look you, --we must have more. "

Mr. Hayes starting back, and cursing his fate, fairly burst into tears;the two women screamed; and Mr. Brock looked as if the proposition bothamused and had been expected by him: but not so Ensign Macshane. 

"Major!" said he, clawing fiercely hold of Brock's arms. 

"Ensign, " said Mr. Brock, smiling. 

"Arr we, or arr we not, men of honour?"

"Oh, in coorse, " said Brock, laughing, and using Macshane's favouriteexpression. 

"If we ARR men of honour, we are bound to stick to our word; and, harkye, you dirty one-eyed scoundrel, if you don't immadiately make way forthese leedies, and this lily-livered young jontleman who's crying so, the Meejor here and I will lug out and force you. " And so saying, he drew his great sword and made a pass at Mr. Sicklop; which thatgentleman avoided, and which caused him and his companion to retreatfrom the door. The landlady still kept her position at it, and with astorm of oaths against the Ensign, and against two Englishmen who ranaway from a wild Hirishman, swore she would not budge a foot, and wouldstand there until her dying day. 

"Faith, then, needs must, " said the Ensign, and made a lunge at thehostess, which passed so near the wretch's throat, that she screamed, sank on her knees, and at last opened the door. 

Down the stairs, then, with great state, Mr. Macshane led the elderlady, the married couple following; and having seen them to the street, took an affectionate farewell of the party, whom he vowed that he wouldcome and see. "You can walk the eighteen miles aisy, between this andnightfall, " said he. 

"WALK!" exclaimed Mr. Hayes. "Why, haven't we got Ball, and shall rideand tie all the way?"

"Madam!" cried Macshane, in a stern voice, "honour before everything. Did you not, in the presence of his worship, vow and declare that yougave me that horse, and now d'ye talk of taking it back again? Let metell you, madam, that such paltry thricks ill become a person of youryears and respectability, and ought never to be played with InsignTimothy Macshane. "

He waved his hat and strutted down the street; and Mrs. Catherine Hayes, along with her bridegroom and mother-in-law, made the best of their wayhomeward on foot. 

CHAPTER VII. WHICH EMBRACES A PERIOD OF SEVEN YEARS. 

The recovery of so considerable a portion of his property from theclutches of Brock was, as may be imagined, no trifling source of joy tothat excellent young man, Count Gustavus Adolphus de Galgenstein; andhe was often known to say, with much archness, and a proper feeling ofgratitude to the Fate which had ordained things so, that the robberywas, in reality, one of the best things that could have happened to him:for, in event of Mr. Brock's NOT stealing the money, his Excellency theCount would have had to pay the whole to the Warwickshire Squire, whohad won it from him at play. He was enabled, in the present instance, toplead his notorious poverty as an excuse; and the Warwickshire conquerorgot off with nothing, except a very badly written autograph of theCount's, simply acknowledging the debt. 

This point his Excellency conceded with the greatest candour; but (as, doubtless, the reader may have remarked in the course of his experience)to owe is not quite the same thing as to pay; and from the day of hiswinning the money until the day of his death the Warwickshire Squiredid never, by any chance, touch a single bob, tizzy, tester, moidore, maravedi, doubloon, tomaun, or rupee, of the sum which Monsieur deGalgenstein had lost to him. 

That young nobleman was, as Mr. Brock hinted in the littleautobiographical sketch which we gave in a former chapter, incarceratedfor a certain period, and for certain other debts, in the donjonsof Shrewsbury; but he released himself from them by that noble andconsolatory method of whitewashing which the law has provided forgentlemen in his oppressed condition; and he had not been a week inLondon, when he fell in with, and overcame, or put to flight, CaptainWood, alias Brock, and immediately seized upon the remainder of hisproperty. After receiving this, the Count, with commendable discretion, disappeared from England altogether for a while; nor are we at allauthorised to state that any of his debts to his tradesmen weredischarged, any more than his debts of honour, as they are pleasantlycalled. 

Having thus settled with his creditors, the gallant Count had interestenough with some of the great folk to procure for himself a post abroad, and was absent in Holland for some time. It was here that he becameacquainted with the lovely Madam Silverkoop, the widow of a deceasedgentleman of Leyden; and although the lady was not at that age at whichtender passions are usually inspired--being sixty--and though she couldnot, like Mademoiselle Ninon de l'Enclos, then at Paris, boast of charmswhich defied the progress of time, --for Mrs. Silverkoop was as red as aboiled lobster, and as unwieldy as a porpoise; and although her mentalattractions did by no means make up for her personal deficiencies, --forshe was jealous, violent, vulgar, drunken, and stingy to a miracle:yet her charms had an immediate effect on Monsieur de Galgenstein; andhence, perhaps, the reader (the rogue! how well he knows the world!)will be led to conclude that the honest widow was RICH. 

Such, indeed, she was; and Count Gustavus, despising the differencebetween his twenty quarterings and her twenty thousand pounds, laid themost desperate siege to her, and finished by causing her to capitulate;as I do believe, after a reasonable degree of pressing, any woman willdo to any man: such, at least, has been MY experience in the matter. 

The Count then married; and it was curious to see how he--who, aswe have seen in the case of Mrs. Cat, had been as great a tiger anddomestic bully as any extant--now, by degrees, fell into a quietsubmission towards his enormous Countess; who ordered him up and down asa lady orders her footman, who permitted him speedily not to have a willof his own, and who did not allow him a shilling of her money withoutreceiving for the same an accurate account. 

How was it that he, the abject slave of Madam Silverkoop, had beenvictorious over Mrs. Cat? The first blow is, I believe, the decisiveone in these cases, and the Countess had stricken it a week after theirmarriage;--establishing a supremacy which the Count never afterwardsattempted to question. 

We have alluded to his Excellency's marriage, as in duty bound, becauseit will be necessary to account for his appearance hereafter in a moresplendid fashion than that under which he has hitherto been known to us;and just comforting the reader by the knowledge that the union, thoughprosperous in a worldly point of view, was, in reality, extremelyunhappy, we must say no more from this time forth of the fat andlegitimate Madam de Galgenstein. Our darling is Mrs. Catherine, who hadformerly acted in her stead; and only in so much as the fat Countessdid influence in any way the destinies of our heroine, or those wiseand virtuous persons who have appeared and are to follow her to her end, shall we in any degree allow her name to figure here. It is an awfulthing to get a glimpse, as one sometimes does, when the time is past, ofsome little little wheel which works the whole mighty machinery of FATE, and see how our destinies turn on a minute's delay or advance, or on theturning of a street, or on somebody else's turning of a street, oron somebody else's doing of something else in Downing Street or inTimbuctoo, now or a thousand years ago. Thus, for instance, if MissPoots, in the year 1695, had never been the lovely inmate of a Spielhausat Amsterdam, Mr. Van Silverkoop would never have seen her; if the dayhad not been extraordinarily hot, the worthy merchant would never havegone thither; if he had not been fond of Rhenish wine and sugar, henever would have called for any such delicacies; if he had not calledfor them, Miss Ottilia Poots would never have brought them, and partakenof them; if he had not been rich, she would certainly have rejected allthe advances made to her by Silverkoop; if he had not been so fond ofRhenish and sugar, he never would have died; and Mrs. Silverkoop wouldhave been neither rich nor a widow, nor a wife to Count von Galgenstein. Nay, nor would this history have ever been written; for if CountGalgenstein had not married the rich widow, Mrs. Catherine would neverhave--

Oh, my dear madam! you thought we were going to tell you. Pooh!nonsense!--no such thing! not for two or three and seventy pages orso, --when, perhaps, you MAY know what Mrs. Catherine never would havedone. 

The reader will remember, in the second chapter of these Memoirs, theannouncement that Mrs. Catherine had given to the world a child, whomight bear, if he chose, the arms of Galgenstein, with the furtheradornment of a bar-sinister. This child had been put out to nurse sometime before its mother's elopement from the Count; and as that noblemanwas in funds at the time (having had that success at play which we dulychronicled), he paid a sum of no less than twenty guineas, which was tobe the yearly reward of the nurse into whose charge the boy was put. Thewoman grew fond of the brat; and when, after the first year, she had nofurther news or remittances from father or mother, she determined, fora while at least, to maintain the infant at her own expense; for, whenrebuked by her neighbours on this score, she stoutly swore that noparents could ever desert their children, and that some day or other sheshould not fail to be rewarded for her trouble with this one. 

Under this strange mental hallucination poor Goody Billings, who hadfive children and a husband of her own, continued to give food andshelter to little Tom for a period of no less than seven years; andthough it must be acknowledged that the young gentleman did not in theslightest degree merit the kindnesses shown to him, Goody Billings, whowas of a very soft and pitiful disposition, continued to bestow themupon him: because, she said, he was lonely and unprotected, and deservedthem more than other children who had fathers and mothers to look afterthem. If, then, any difference was made between Tom's treatment and thatof her own brood, it was considerably in favour of the former; to whomthe largest proportions of treacle were allotted for his bread, andthe handsomest supplies of hasty pudding. Besides, to do Mrs. Billingsjustice, there WAS a party against him; and that consisted not only ofher husband and her five children, but of every single person in theneighbourhood who had an opportunity of seeing and becoming acquaintedwith Master Tom. 

A celebrated philosopher--I think Miss Edgeworth--has broached theconsolatory doctrine, that in intellect and disposition all human beingsare entirely equal, and that circumstance and education are the causesof the distinctions and divisions which afterwards unhappily take placeamong them. Not to argue this question, which places Jack Howard andJack Thurtell on an exact level, --which would have us to believe thatLord Melbourne is by natural gifts and excellences a man as honest, brave, and far-sighted as the Duke of Wellington, --which would make outthat Lord Lyndhurst is, in point of principle, eloquence, and politicalhonesty, no better than Mr. O'Connell, --not, I say, arguing thisdoctrine, let us simply state that Master Thomas Billings (for, havingno other, he took the name of the worthy people who adopted him) was inhis long-coats fearfully passionate, screaming and roaring perpetually, and showing all the ill that he COULD show. At the age of two, whenhis strength enabled him to toddle abroad, his favourite resort wasthe coal-hole or the dung-heap: his roarings had not diminished in theleast, and he had added to his former virtues two new ones, --a loveof fighting and stealing; both which amiable qualities he had manyopportunities of exercising every day. He fought his little adoptivebrothers and sisters; he kicked and cuffed his father and mother; hefought the cat, stamped upon the kittens, was worsted in a severe battlewith the hen in the backyard; but, in revenge, nearly beat a littlesucking-pig to death, whom he caught alone and rambling near hisfavourite haunt, the dung-hill. As for stealing, he stole the eggs, which he perforated and emptied; the butter, which he ate with orwithout bread, as he could find it; the sugar, which he cunninglysecreted in the leaves of a "Baker's Chronicle, " that nobody in theestablishment could read; and thus from the pages of history he used tosuck in all he knew--thieving and lying namely; in which, for his years, he made wonderful progress. If any followers of Miss Edgeworth and thephilosophers are inclined to disbelieve this statement, or to set itdown as overcharged and distorted, let them be assured that just thisvery picture was, of all the pictures in the world, taken from nature. I, Ikey Solomons, once had a dear little brother who could steal beforehe could walk (and this not from encouragement, --for, if you know theworld, you must know that in families of our profession the point ofhonour is sacred at home, --but from pure nature)--who could steal, Isay, before he could walk, and lie before he could speak; and who, atfour and a half years of age, having attacked my sister Rebecca on somequestion of lollipops, had smitten her on the elbow with a fire-shovel, apologising to us by saying simply, "---- her, I wish it had been herhead!" Dear, dear Aminadab! I think of you, and laugh these philosophersto scorn. Nature made you for that career which you fulfilled: youwere from your birth to your dying a scoundrel; you COULDN'T have beenanything else, however your lot was cast; and blessed it was that youwere born among the prigs, --for had you been of any other profession, alas! alas! what ills might you have done! As I have heard the author of"Richelieu, " "Siamese Twins, " etc. Say "Poeta nascitur non fit, " whichmeans that though he had tried ever so much to be a poet, it was allmoonshine: in the like manner, I say, "ROAGUS nascitur, non fit. " Wehave it from nature, and so a fig for Miss Edgeworth. 

In this manner, then, while his father, blessed with a wealthy wife, wasleading, in a fine house, the life of a galley-slave; while his mother, married to Mr. Hayes, and made an honest women of, as the saying is, waspassing her time respectably in Warwickshire, Mr. Thomas Billingswas inhabiting the same county, not cared for by either of them; butordained by Fate to join them one day, and have a mighty influence uponthe fortunes of both. For, as it has often happened to the traveller inthe York or the Exeter coach to fall snugly asleep in his corner, and onawaking suddenly to find himself sixty or seventy miles from the placewhere Somnus first visited him: as, we say, although you sit still, Time, poor wretch, keeps perpetually running on, and so must run dayand night, with never a pause or a halt of five minutes to get a drink, until his dying day; let the reader imagine that since he left Mrs. Hayes and all the other worthy personages of this history, in the lastchapter, seven years have sped away; during which, all our heroes andheroines have been accomplishing their destinies. 

Seven years of country carpentering, or rather trading, on the part of ahusband, of ceaseless scolding, violence, and discontent on the part ofa wife, are not pleasant to describe: so we shall omit altogetherany account of the early married life of Mr. And Mrs. John Hayes. The"Newgate Calendar" (to which excellent compilation we and the OTHERpopular novelists of the day can never be sufficiently grateful) statesthat Hayes left his house three or four times during this period, and, urged by the restless humours of his wife, tried several professions:returning, however, as he grew weary of each, to his wife and hispaternal home. After a certain time his parents died, and by theirdemise he succeeded to a small property, and the carpentering business, which he for some time followed. 

What, then, in the meanwhile, had become of Captain Wood, or Brock, and Ensign Macshane?--the only persons now to be accounted for in ourcatalogue. For about six months after their capture and release ofMr. Hayes, those noble gentlemen had followed, with much prudence andsuccess, that trade which the celebrated and polite Duval, the ingeniousSheppard, the dauntless Turpin, and indeed many other heroes of our mostpopular novels, had pursued, --or were pursuing, in their time. And soconsiderable were said to be Captain Wood's gains, that reports wereabroad of his having somewhere a buried treasure; to which he might haveadded more, had not Fate suddenly cut short his career as a prig. Heand the Ensign were--shame to say--transported for stealing threepewter-pots off a railing at Exeter; and not being known in the town, which they had only reached that morning, they were detained byno further charges, but simply condemned on this one. For thismisdemeanour, Her Majesty's Government vindictively sent them for sevenyears beyond the sea; and, as the fashion then was, sold the use oftheir bodies to Virginian planters during that space of time. It isthus, alas! that the strong are always used to deal with the weak, andmany an honest fellow has been led to rue his unfortunate differencewith the law. 

Thus, then, we have settled all scores. The Count is in Holland with hiswife; Mrs. Cat in Warwickshire along with her excellent husband; MasterThomas Billings with his adoptive parents in the same county; and thetwo military gentlemen watching the progress and cultivation of thetobacco and cotton plant in the New World. All these things havingpassed between the acts, dingaring-a-dingaring-a-dingledingleding, thedrop draws up, and the next act begins. By the way, the play ENDS with adrop: but that is neither here nor there. 

 *****

(Here, as in a theatre, the orchestra is supposed to play somethingmelodious. The people get up, shake themselves, yawn, and settle downin their seats again. "Porter, ale, ginger-beer, cider, " comes round, squeezing through the legs of the gentlemen in the pit. Nobody takesanything, as usual; and lo! the curtain rises again. "Sh, 'shsh, 'shshshhh! Hats off!" says everybody. )

 *****

Mrs. Hayes had now been for six years the adored wife of Mr. Hayes, andno offspring had arisen to bless their loves and perpetuate their name. She had obtained a complete mastery over her lord and master; andhaving had, as far as was in that gentleman's power, every single wishgratified that she could demand, in the way of dress, treats to Coventryand Birmingham, drink, and what not--for, though a hard man, John Hayeshad learned to spend his money pretty freely on himself and her--havinghad all her wishes gratified, it was natural that she should begin tofind out some more; and the next whim she hit upon was to be restoredto her child. It may be as well to state that she had never informed herhusband of the existence of that phenomenon, although he was awareof his wife's former connection with the Count, --Mrs. Hayes, in theirmatrimonial quarrels, invariably taunting him with accounts of herformer splendour and happiness, and with his own meanness of taste incondescending to take up with his Excellency's leavings. 

She determined, then (but as yet had not confided her determinationto her husband), she would have her boy; although in her seven years'residence within twenty miles of him she had never once thought ofseeing him: and the kind reader knows that when his excellent ladydetermines on a thing--a shawl, or an opera-box, or a new carriage, ortwenty-four singing-lessons from Tamburini, or a night at the "EagleTavern, " City Road, or a ride in a 'bus to Richmond and tea andbrandy-and-water at "Rose Cottage Hotel"--the reader, high or low, knowsthat when Mrs. Reader desires a thing have it she will; you may just aswell talk of avoiding her as of avoiding gout, bills, or grey hairs--andthat, you know, is impossible. I, for my part, have had all three--ay, and a wife too. 

I say that when a woman is resolved on a thing, happen it will; ifhusbands refuse, Fate will interfere (flectere si nequeo, etc. ; butquotations are odious). And some hidden power was working in the case ofMrs. Hayes, and, for its own awful purposes, lending her its aid. 

Who has not felt how he works--the dreadful conquering Spirit ofIll? Who cannot see, in the circle of his own society, the fated andforedoomed to woe and evil? Some call the doctrine of destiny a darkcreed; but, for me, I would fain try and think it a consolatory one. Itis better, with all one's sins upon one's head, to deem oneself inthe hands of Fate, than to think--with our fierce passions and weakrepentances; with our resolves so loud, so vain, so ludicrously, despicably weak and frail; with our dim, wavering, wretched conceitsabout virtue, and our irresistible propensity to wrong, --that we are theworkers of our future sorrow or happiness. If we depend on our strength, what is it against mighty circumstance? If we look to ourselves, whathope have we? Look back at the whole of your life, and see how Fate hasmastered you and it. Think of your disappointments and your successes. Has YOUR striving influenced one or the other? A fit of indigestion putsitself between you and honours and reputation; an apple plops on yournose and makes you a world's wonder and glory; a fit of poverty makes arascal of you, who were, and are still, an honest man; clubs, trumps, or six lucky mains at dice, make an honest man for life of you, who everwere, will be, and are a rascal. Who sends the illness? who causes theapple to fall? who deprives you of your worldly goods? or who shufflesthe cards, and brings trumps, honour, virtue, and prosperity back again?You call it chance; ay, and so it is chance that when the floorgives way, and the rope stretches tight, the poor wretch before St. Sepulchre's clock dies. Only with us, clear-sighted mortals as we are, we can't SEE the rope by which we hang, and know not when or how thedrop may fall. 

But revenons a nos moutons: let us return to that sweet lamb MasterThomas, and the milk-white ewe Mrs. Cat. Seven years had passed away, and she began to think that she should very much like to see her childonce more. It was written that she should; and you shall hear how, soonafter, without any great exertions of hers, back he came to her. 

In the month of July, in the year 1715, there came down a road aboutten miles from the city of Worcester, two gentlemen; not mounted, Templar-like, upon one horse, but having a horse between them--a sorrybay, with a sorry saddle, and a large pack behind it; on which each byturn took a ride. Of the two, one was a man of excessive stature, withred hair, a very prominent nose, and a faded military dress; while theother, an old weather-beaten, sober-looking personage, wore thecostume of a civilian--both man and dress appearing to have reached theautumnal, or seedy state. However, the pair seemed, in spite of theirapparent poverty, to be passably merry. The old gentleman rode thehorse; and had, in the course of their journey, ridden him two miles atleast in every three. The tall one walked with immense strides by hisside; and seemed, indeed, as if he could have quickly outstrippedthe four-footed animal, had he chosen to exert his speed, or had notaffection for his comrade retained him at his stirrup. 

A short time previously the horse had cast a shoe; and this the tallman on foot had gathered up, and was holding in his hand: it having beenvoted that the first blacksmith to whose shop they should come should becalled upon to fit it again upon the bay horse. 

"Do you remimber this counthry, Meejor?" said the tall man, who waslooking about him very much pleased, and sucking a flower. "I thinkthim green cornfields is prettier looking at than the d----- tobacky outyondther, and bad lack to it!"

"I recollect the place right well, and some queer pranks we played hereseven years agone, " responded the gentleman addressed as Major. "Youremember that man and his wife, whom we took in pawn at the 'ThreeRooks'?"

"And the landlady only hung last Michaelmas?" said the tall man, parenthetically. 

"Hang the landlady!--we've got all we ever would out of HER, you know. But about the man and woman. You went after the chap's mother, and, likea jackass, as you are, let him loose. Well, the woman was that Catherinethat you've often heard me talk about. I like the wench, ---- her, forI almost brought her up; and she was for a year or two along with thatscoundrel Galgenstein, who has been the cause of my ruin. "

"The infernal blackguard and ruffian!" said the tall man; who, with hiscompanion, has no doubt been recognised by the reader. 

"Well, this Catherine had a child by Galgenstein; and somewhere herehard by the woman lived to whom we carried the brat to nurse. She wasthe wife of a blacksmith, one Billings: it won't be out of the way toget our horse shod at his house, if he is alive still, and we may learnsomething about the little beast. I should be glad to see the motherwell enough. "

"Do I remimber her?" said the Ensign. "Do I remimber whisky? Sure Ido, and the snivelling sneak her husband, and the stout old lady hermother-in-law, and the dirty one-eyed ruffian who sold me the parson'shat that had so nearly brought me into trouble. Oh but it was a rarerise we got out of them chaps, and the old landlady that's hanged too!"And here both Ensign Macshane and Major Brock, or Wood, grinned, andshowed much satisfaction. 

It will be necessary to explain the reason of it. We gave the Britishpublic to understand that the landlady of the "Three Rooks, " atWorcester, was a notorious fence, or banker of thieves; that is, apurchaser of their merchandise. In her hands Mr. Brock and his companionhad left property to the amount of sixty or seventy pounds, which wassecreted in a cunning recess in a chamber of the "Three Rooks" knownonly to the landlady and the gentlemen who banked with her; and inthis place, Mr. Sicklop, the one-eyed man who had joined in the Hayesadventure, his comrade, and one or two of the topping prigs of thecounty, were free. Mr. Sicklop had been shot dead in a night attack nearBath: the landlady had been suddenly hanged, as an accomplice in anothercase of robbery; and when, on their return from Virginia, our twoheroes, whose hopes of livelihood depended upon it, had bent their stepstowards Worcester, they were not a little frightened to hear of thecruel fate of the hostess and many of the amiable frequenters of the"Three Rooks. " All the goodly company were separated; the house was nolonger an inn. Was the money gone too? At least it was worth while tolook--which Messrs. Brock and Macshane determined to do. 

The house being now a private one, Mr. Brock, with a genius that wasabove his station, visited its owner, with a huge portfolio under hisarm, and, in the character of a painter, requested permission to take aparticular sketch from a particular window. The Ensign followed with theartist's materials (consisting simply of a screwdriver and a crowbar);and it is hardly necessary to say that, when admission was grantedto them, they opened the well-known door, and to their inexpressiblesatisfaction discovered, not their own peculiar savings exactly, for these had been appropriated instantly, on hearing of theirtransportation, but stores of money and goods to the amount of nearthree hundred pounds: to which Mr. Macshane said they had as just andhonourable a right as anybody else. And so they had as just a right asanybody--except the original owners: but who was to discover them?

With this booty they set out on their journey--anywhere, for they knewnot whither; and it so chanced that when their horse's shoe came off, they were within a few furlongs of the cottage of Mr. Billings, theblacksmith. As they came near, they were saluted by tremendous roarsissuing from the smithy. A small boy was held across the bellows, two orthree children of smaller and larger growth were holding him down, andmany others of the village were gazing in at the window, while a man, half-naked, was lashing the little boy with a whip, and occasioning thecries heard by the travellers. As the horse drew up, the operator lookedat the new-comers for a moment, and then proceeded incontinently withhis work; belabouring the child more fiercely than ever. 

When he had done, he turned round to the new-comers and asked how hecould serve them? whereupon Mr. Wood (for such was the name he adopted, and by such we shall call him to the end) wittily remarked that howeverhe might wish to serve THEM, he seemed mightily inclined to serve thatyoung gentleman first. 

"It's no joking matter, " said the blacksmith: "if I don't serve him sonow, he'll be worse off in his old age. He'll come to the gallows, assure as his name is Bill---never mind what his name is. " And so saying, he gave the urchin another cut; which elicited, of course, anotherscream. 

"Oh! his name is Bill?" said Captain Wood. 

"His name's NOT Bill!" said the blacksmith, sulkily. "He's no name; andno heart, neither. My wife took the brat in, seven years ago, from abeggarly French chap to nurse, and she kept him, for she was a goodsoul" (here his eyes began to wink), "and she's--she's gone now" (herehe began fairly to blubber). "And d--- him, out of love for her, I kepthim too, and the scoundrel is a liar and a thief. This blessed day, merely to vex me and my boys here, he spoke ill of her, he did, andI'll--cut--his--life--out--I--will!" and with each word honest Mulciberapplied a whack on the body of little Tom Billings; who, by shrillshrieks, and oaths in treble, acknowledged the receipt of the blows. 

"Come, come, " said Mr. Wood, "set the boy down, and the bellows a-going;my horse wants shoeing, and the poor lad has had strapping enough. "

The blacksmith obeyed, and cast poor Master Thomas loose. As hestaggered away and looked back at his tormentor, his countenance assumedan expression which made Mr. Wood say, grasping hold of Macshane'sarm, "It's the boy, it's the boy! When his mother gave Galgenstein thelaudanum, she had the self-same look with her!"

"Had she really now?" said Mr. Macshane. "And pree, Meejor, who WAS hismother?"

"Mrs. Cat, you fool!" answered Wood. 

"Then, upon my secred word of honour, she has a mighty fine KITTENanyhow, my dear. Aha!"

"They don't DROWN such kittens, " said Mr. Wood, archly; and Macshane, taking the allusion, clapped his finger to his nose in token of perfectapprobation of his commander's sentiment. 

While the blacksmith was shoeing the horse, Mr. Wood asked him manyquestions concerning the lad whom he had just been chastising, andsucceeded, beyond a doubt, in establishing his identity with the childwhom Catherine Hall had brought into the world seven years since. Billings told him of all the virtues of his wife, and the manifoldcrimes of the lad: how he stole, and fought, and lied, and swore; andthough the youngest under his roof, exercised the most baneful influenceover all the rest of his family. He was determined at last, he said, toput him to the parish, for he did not dare to keep him. 

"He's a fine whelp, and would fetch ten pieces in Virginny, " sighed theEnsign. 

"Crimp, of Bristol, would give five for him, " said Mr. Wood, ruminating. 

"Why not take him?" said the Ensign. 

"Faith, why not?" said Mr. Wood. "His keep, meanwhile, will not besixpence a day. " Then turning round to the blacksmith, "Mr. Billings, "said he, "you will be surprised, perhaps, to hear that I know everythingregarding that poor lad's history. His mother was an unfortunate ladyof high family, now no more; his father a German nobleman, Count deGalgenstein by name. "

"The very man!" said Billings: "a young, fair-haired man, who came herewith the child, and a dragoon sergeant. "

"Count de Galgenstein by name, who, on the point of death, recommendedthe infant to me. "

"And did he pay you seven years' boarding?" said Mr. Billings, who wasquite alive at the very idea. 

"Alas, sir, not a jot! He died, sir, six hundred pounds in my debt;didn't he, Ensign?"

"Six hundred, upon my secred honour! I remember when he got into thehouse along with the poli--"

"Psha! what matters it?" here broke out Mr. Wood, looking fiercely atthe Ensign. "Six hundred pounds he owes me: how was he to pay you? Buthe told me to take charge of this boy, if I found him; and found him Ihave, and WILL take charge of him, if you will hand him over. "

"Send our Tom!" cried Billings. And when that youth appeared, scowling, and yet trembling, and prepared, as it seemed, for another castigation, his father, to his surprise, asked him if he was willing to go alongwith those gentlemen, or whether he would be a good lad and stay withhim. 

Mr. Tom replied immediately, "I won't be a good lad, and I'd rather goto ---- than stay with you!"

"Will you leave your brothers and sisters?" said Billings, looking verydismal. 

"Hang my brothers and sisters--I hate 'em; and, besides, I haven't gotany!"

"But you had a good mother, hadn't you, Tom?"

Tom paused for a moment. 

"Mother's gone, " said he, "and you flog me, and I'll go with these men. "

"Well, then, go thy ways, " said Billings, starting up in a passion: "gothy ways for a graceless reprobate; and if this gentleman will take you, he may do so. "

After some further parley, the conversation ended, and the next morningMr. Wood's party consisted of three: a little boy being mounted upon thebay horse, in addition to the Ensign or himself; and the whole companywent journeying towards Bristol. 

 *****

We have said that Mrs. Hayes had, on a sudden, taken a fit of maternalaffection, and was bent upon being restored to her child; and thatbenign destiny which watched over the life of this lucky lady instantlyset about gratifying her wish, and, without cost to herself ofcoach-hire or saddle-horse, sent the young gentleman very quickly to herarms. The village in which the Hayeses dwelt was but a very few milesout of the road from Bristol; whither, on the benevolent mission above, hinted at, our party of worthies were bound: and coming, towards theafternoon, in sight of the house of that very Justice Ballance who hadbeen so nearly the ruin of Ensign Macshane, that officer narrated, forthe hundredth time, and with much glee, the circumstances which hadthen befallen him, and the manner in which Mrs. Hayes the elder had comeforward to his rescue. 

"Suppose we go and see the old girl?" suggested Mr. Wood. "No harm cancome to us now. " And his comrade always assenting, they wound theirway towards the village, and reached it as the evening came on. In thepublic-house where they rested, Wood made inquiries concerning theHayes family; was informed of the death of the old couple, of theestablishment of John Hayes and his wife in their place, and of the kindof life that these latter led together. When all these points had beenimparted to him, he ruminated much: an expression of sublime triumph andexultation at length lighted up his features. "I think, Tim, " said he atlast, "that we can make more than five pieces of that boy. "

"Oh, in coorse!" said Timothy Macshane, Esquire; who always agreed withhis "Meejor. "

"In coorse, you fool! and how? I'll tell you how. This Hayes is well todo in the world, and--"

"And we'll nab him again--ha, ha!" roared out Macshane. "By my secredhonour, Meejor, there never was a gineral like you at a strathyjam!"

"Peace, you bellowing donkey, and don't wake the child. The man is wellto do, his wife rules him, and they have no children. Now, either shewill be very glad to have the boy back again, and pay for the finding ofhim, or else she has said nothing about him, and will pay us for beingsilent too: or, at any rate, Hayes himself will be ashamed at findinghis wife the mother of a child a year older than his marriage, and willpay for the keeping of the brat away. There's profit, my dear, in anyone of the cases, or my name's not Peter Brock. "

When the Ensign understood this wondrous argument, he would fain havefallen on his knees and worshipped his friend and guide. They beganoperations, almost immediately, by an attack on Mrs. Hayes. On hearing, as she did in private interview with the ex-corporal the next morning, that her son was found, she was agitated by both of the passions whichWood attributed to her. She longed to have the boy back, and would giveany reasonable sum to see him; but she dreaded exposure, and would payequally to avoid that. How could she gain the one point and escape theother?

Mrs. Hayes hit upon an expedient which, I am given to understand, is notuncommon nowadays. She suddenly discovered that she had a dear brother, who had been obliged to fly the country in consequence of having joinedthe Pretender, and had died in France, leaving behind him an only son. This boy her brother had, with his last breath, recommended to herprotection, and had confided him to the charge of a brother officer whowas now in the country, and would speedily make his appearance; and, toput the story beyond a doubt, Mr. Wood wrote the letter from herbrother stating all these particulars, and Ensign Macshane receivedfull instructions how to perform the part of the "brother officer. " Whatconsideration Mr. Wood received for his services, we cannot say; onlyit is well known that Mr. Hayes caused to be committed to gaol a youngapprentice in his service, charged with having broken open a cupboard inwhich Mr. Hayes had forty guineas in gold and silver, and to which nonebut he and his wife had access. 

Having made these arrangements, the Corporal and his little partydecamped to a short distance, and Mrs. Catherine was left to prepareher husband for a speedy addition to his family, in the shape of thisdarling nephew. John Hayes received the news with anything but pleasure. He had never heard of any brother of Catherine's; she had been bred atthe workhouse, and nobody ever hinted that she had relatives: but itis easy for a lady of moderate genius to invent circumstances; and withlies, tears, threats, coaxings, oaths, and other blandishments, shecompelled him to submit. 

Two days afterwards, as Mr. Hayes was working in his shop with his ladyseated beside him, the trampling of a horse was heard in his courtyard, and a gentleman, of huge stature, descended from it, and strode into theshop. His figure was wrapped in a large cloak; but Mr. Hayes could nothelp fancying that he had somewhere seen his face before. 

"This, I preshoom, " said the gentleman, "is Misther Hayes, that I havecome so many miles to see, and this is his amiable lady? I was themost intimate frind, madam, of your laminted brother, who died in KingLewis's service, and whose last touching letthers I despatched to youtwo days ago. I have with me a further precious token of my dear friend, Captain Hall--it is HERE. "

And so saying, the military gentleman, with one arm, removed his cloak, and stretching forward the other into Hayes's face almost, stretchedlikewise forward a little boy, grinning and sprawling in the air, andprevented only from falling to the ground by the hold which the Ensignkept of the waistband of his little coat and breeches. 

"Isn't he a pretty boy?" said Mrs. Hayes, sidling up to her husbandtenderly, and pressing one of Mr. Hayes's hands. 

 *****

About the lad's beauty it is needless to say what the carpenter thought;but that night, and for many many nights after, the lad stayed at Mr. Hayes's. 

CHAPTER VIII. ENUMERATES THE ACCOMPLISHMENTS OF MASTER THOMASBILLINGS--INTRODUCES BROCK AS DOCTOR WOOD--AND ANNOUNCES THE EXECUTIONOF ENSIGN MACSHANE. 

We are obliged, in recording this history, to follow accurately thatgreat authority, the "Calendarium Newgaticum Roagorumque Registerium, "of which every lover of literature, in the present day knows the value;and as that remarkable work totally discards all the unities in itsnarratives, and reckons the life of its heroes only by their actions, and not by periods of time, we must follow in the wake of this mightyark--a humble cock-boat. When it pauses, we pause; when it runs tenknots an hour, we run with the same celerity; and as, in order to carrythe reader from the penultimate chapter of this work unto the lastchapter, we were compelled to make him leap over a gap of seven blankyears, ten years more must likewise be granted to us before we are atliberty to resume our history. 

During that period, Master Thomas Billings had been under the especialcare of his mother; and, as may be imagined, he rather increased thandiminished the accomplishments for which he had been remarkable whileunder the roof of his foster-father. And with this advantage, that whileat the blacksmith's, and only three or four years of age, his virtueswere necessarily appreciated only in his family circle and among thosefew acquaintances of his own time of life whom a youth of three can beexpected to meet in the alleys or over the gutters of a small countryhamlet, --in his mothers residence, his circle extended with his owngrowth, and he began to give proofs of those powers of which ininfancy there had been only encouraging indications. Thus it was nowiseremarkable that a child of four years should not know his letters, andshould have had a great disinclination to learn them; but when ayoung man of fifteen showed the same creditable ignorance, thesame undeviating dislike, it was easy to see that he possessed muchresolution and perseverance. When it was remarked, too, that, in case ofany difference, he not only beat the usher, but by no means disdained totorment and bully the very smallest boys of the school, it was easy tosee that his mind was comprehensive and careful, as well as courageousand grasping. As it was said of the Duke of Wellington, in thePeninsula, that he had a thought for everybody--from Lord Hill to thesmallest drummer in the army--in like manner Tom Billings bestowed HISattention on high and low; but in the shape of blows: he would fight thestrongest and kick the smallest, and was always at work with one or theother. At thirteen, when he was removed from the establishment whitherhe had been sent, he was the cock of the school out of doors, and thevery last boy in. He used to let the little boys and new-comers pass himby, and laugh; but he always belaboured them unmercifully afterwards;and then it was, he said, HIS turn to laugh. With such a pugnaciousturn, Tom Billings ought to have been made a soldier, and might havedied a marshal; but, by an unlucky ordinance of fate, he was made atailor, and died a--never mind what for the present; suffice it to say, that he was suddenly cut off, at a very early period of his existence, by a disease which has exercised considerable ravages among the Britishyouth. 

By consulting the authority above mentioned, we find that Hayes didnot confine himself to the profession of a carpenter, or remain longestablished in the country; but was induced, by the eager spirit of Mrs. Catherine most probably, to try his fortune in the metropolis; where helived, flourished, and died. Oxford Road, Saint Giles's, and TottenhamCourt were, at various periods of his residence in town, inhabitedby him. At one place he carried on the business of greengrocer andsmall-coalman; in another, he was carpenter, undertaker, and lender ofmoney to the poor; finally, he was a lodging-house keeper in the Oxfordor Tyburn Road; but continued to exercise the last-named charitableprofession. 

Lending as he did upon pledges, and carrying on a pretty large trade, it was not for him, of course, to inquire into the pedigree of allthe pieces of plate, the bales of cloth, swords, watches, wigs, shoe-buckles, etc. That were confided by his friends to his keeping; butit is clear that his friends had the requisite confidence in him, andthat he enjoyed the esteem of a class of characters who still live inhistory, and are admired unto this very day. The mind loves to thinkthat, perhaps, in Mr. Hayes's back parlour the gallant Turpin mighthave hob-and-nobbed with Mrs. Catherine; that here, perhaps, the nobleSheppard might have cracked his joke, or quaffed his pint of rum. Whoknows but that Macheath and Paul Clifford may have crossed legs underHayes's dinner-table? But why pause to speculate on things that mighthave been? why desert reality for fond imagination, or call up fromtheir honoured graves the sacred dead? I know not: and yet, in sooth, Ican never pass Cumberland Gate without a sigh, as I think of the gallantcavaliers who traversed that road in old time. Pious priests accompaniedtheir triumphs; their chariots were surrounded by hosts of glitteringjavelin-men. As the slave at the car of the Roman conqueror shouted, "Remember thou art mortal!", before the eyes of the British warrior rodethe undertaker and his coffin, telling him that he too must die! Markwell the spot! A hundred years ago Albion Street (where comic Powerdwelt, Milesia's darling son)--Albion Street was a desert. The square ofConnaught was without its penultimate, and, strictly speaking, NAUGHT. The Edgware Road was then a road, 'tis true; with tinkling waggonspassing now and then, and fragrant walls of snowy hawthorn blossoms. The ploughman whistled over Nutford Place; down the green solitudes ofSovereign Street the merry milkmaid led the lowing kine. Here, then, inthe midst of green fields and sweet air--before ever omnibuses were, and when Pineapple Turnpike and Terrace were alike unknown--here stoodTyburn: and on the road towards it, perhaps to enjoy the prospect, stood, in the year 1725, the habitation of Mr. John Hayes. 

One fine morning in the year 1725, Mrs. Hayes, who had been abroadin her best hat and riding-hood; Mr. Hayes, who for a wonder hadaccompanied her; and Mrs. Springatt, a lodger, who for a remunerationhad the honour of sharing Mrs. Hayes's friendship and table: allreturned, smiling and rosy, at about half-past ten o'clock, from awalk which they had taken to Bayswater. Many thousands of people werelikewise seen flocking down the Oxford Road; and you would ratherhave thought, from the smartness of their appearance and the pleasuredepicted in their countenances, that they were just issuing from asermon, than quitting the ceremony which they had been to attend. 

The fact is, that they had just been to see a gentleman hanged, --acheap pleasure, which the Hayes family never denied themselves; and theyreturned home with a good appetite to breakfast, braced by the walk, andtickled into hunger, as it were, by the spectacle. I can recollect, whenI was a gyp at Cambridge, that the "men" used to have breakfast-partiesfor the very same purpose; and the exhibition of the morning actedinfallibly upon the stomach, and caused the young students to eat withmuch voracity. 

Well, Mrs. Catherine, a handsome, well-dressed, plump, rosy woman ofthree or four and thirty (and when, my dear, is a woman handsomer thanat that age?), came in quite merrily from her walk, and entered theback-parlour, which looked into a pleasant yard, or garden, whereon thesun was shining very gaily; and where, at a table covered with a nicewhite cloth, laid out with some silver mugs, too, and knives, all withdifferent crests and patterns, sat an old gentleman reading in an oldbook. 

"Here we are at last, Doctor, " said Mrs. Hayes, "and here's his speech. "She produced the little halfpenny tract, which to this day is sold atthe gallows-foot upon the death of every offender. "I've seen a many menturned off, to be sure; but I never did see one who bore it more like aman than he did. "

"My dear, " said the gentleman addressed as Doctor, "he was as cool andas brave as steel, and no more minded hanging than tooth-drawing. "

"It was the drink that ruined him, " said Mrs. Cat. 

"Drink, and bad company. I warned him, my dear, --I warned him years ago:and directly he got into Wild's gang, I knew that he had not a yearto run. Ah, why, my love, will men continue such dangerous courses, "continued the Doctor, with a sigh, "and jeopardy their lives for amiserable watch or a snuff-box, of which Mr. Wild takes three-fourths ofthe produce? But here comes the breakfast; and, egad, I am as hungry asa lad of twenty. "

Indeed, at this moment Mrs. Hayes's servant appeared with a smoking dishof bacon and greens; and Mr. Hayes himself ascended from the cellar(of which he kept the key), bearing with him a tolerably large jugof small-beer. To this repast the Doctor, Mrs. Springatt (the otherlodger), and Mr. And Mrs. Hayes, proceeded with great alacrity. A fifthcover was laid, but not used; the company remarking that "Tom had verylikely found some acquaintances at Tyburn, with whom he might choose topass the morning. "

Tom was Master Thomas Billings, now of the age of sixteen: slim, smart, five feet ten inches in height, handsome, sallow in complexion, black-eyed and black-haired. Mr. Billings was apprentice to a tailor, oftolerable practice, who was to take him into partnership at the end ofhis term. It was supposed, and with reason, that Tom would not failto make a fortune in this business; of which the present head was oneBeinkleider, a German. Beinkleider was skilful in his trade (afterthe manner of his nation, which in breeches and metaphysics--ininexpressibles and incomprehensibles--may instruct all Europe), but toofond of his pleasure. Some promissory notes of his had found their wayinto Hayes's hands, and had given him the means not only of providingMaster Billings with a cheap apprenticeship, and a cheap partnershipafterwards; but would empower him, in one or two years after the youngpartner had joined the firm, to eject the old one altogether. So thatthere was every prospect that, when Mr. Billings was twenty-one yearsof age, poor Beinkleider would have to act, not as his master, but hisjourneyman. 

Tom was a very precocious youth; was supplied by a doting mother withplenty of pocket-money, and spent it with a number of lively companionsof both sexes, at plays, bull-baitings, fairs, jolly parties on theriver, and such-like innocent amusements. He could throw a main, too, aswell as his elders; had pinked his man, in a row at Madam King's in thePiazza; and was much respected at the Roundhouse. 

Mr. Hayes was not very fond of this promising young gentleman; indeed, he had the baseness to bear malice, because, in a quarrel which occurredabout two years previously, he, Hayes, being desirous to chastise Mr. Billings, had found himself not only quite incompetent, but actually atthe mercy of the boy; who struck him over the head with a joint-stool, felled him to the ground, and swore he would have his life. The Doctor, who was then also a lodger at Mr. Hayes's, interposed, and restoredthe combatants, not to friendship, but to peace. Hayes never afterwardsattempted to lift his hand to the young man, but contented himselfwith hating him profoundly. In this sentiment Mr. Billings participatedcordially; and, quite unlike Mr. Hayes, who never dared to show hisdislike, used on every occasion when they met, by actions, looks, words, sneers, and curses, to let his stepfather know the opinion which he hadof him. Why did not Hayes discard the boy altogether? Because, if hedid so, he was really afraid of his life, and because he trembledbefore Mrs. Hayes, his lady, as the leaf trembles before the tempest inOctober. His breath was not his own, but hers; his money, too, had beenchiefly of her getting, --for though he was as stingy and mean as mortalman can be, and so likely to save much, he had not the genius forGETTING which Mrs. Hayes possessed. She kept his books (for she hadlearned to read and write by this time), she made his bargains, and shedirected the operations of the poor-spirited little capitalist. Whenbills became due, and debtors pressed for time, then she brought Hayes'sown professional merits into play. The man was as deaf and cold as arock; never did poor tradesmen gain a penny from him; never were thebailiffs delayed one single minute from their prey. The Beinkleiderbusiness, for instance, showed pretty well the genius of the two. Hayeswas for closing with him at once; but his wife saw the vast profitswhich might be drawn out of him, and arranged the apprenticeship and thepartnership before alluded to. The woman heartily scorned and spit uponher husband, who fawned upon her like a spaniel. She loved good cheer;she did not want for a certain kind of generosity. The only feeling thatHayes had for anyone except himself was for his wife, whom he held ina cowardly awe and attachment: he liked drink, too, which madehim chirping and merry, and accepted willingly any treats that hisacquaintances might offer him; but he would suffer agonies when his wifebrought or ordered from the cellar a bottle of wine. 

And now for the Doctor. He was about seventy years of age. He had beenmuch abroad; he was of a sober, cheerful aspect; he dressed handsomelyand quietly in a broad hat and cassock; but saw no company except thefew friends whom he met at the coffee-house. He had an income of aboutone hundred pounds, which he promised to leave to young Billings. He wasamused with the lad, and fond of his mother, and had boarded with themfor some years past. The Doctor, in fact, was our old friend CorporalBrock, the Reverend Doctor Wood now, as he had been Major Wood fifteenyears back. 

Anyone who has read the former part of this history must have seen thatwe have spoken throughout with invariable respect of Mr. Brock; and thatin every circumstance in which he has appeared, he has acted not onlywith prudence, but often with genius. The early obstacle to Mr. Brock'ssuccess was want of conduct simply. Drink, women, play--how many a bravefellow have they ruined!--had pulled Brock down as often as his merithad carried him up. When a man's passion for play has brought him to bea scoundrel, it at once ceases to be hurtful to him in a worldly pointof view; he cheats, and wins. It is only for the idle and luxuriousthat women retain their fascinations to a very late period; and Brock'spassions had been whipped out of him in Virginia; where much ill-health, ill-treatment, hard labour, and hard food, speedily put an end to them. He forgot there even how to drink; rum or wine made this poor declininggentleman so ill that he could indulge in them no longer; and so histhree vices were cured. 

Had he been ambitious, there is little doubt but that Mr. Brock, on hisreturn from transportation, might have risen in the world; but he wasold and a philosopher: he did not care about rising. Living was cheaperin those days, and interest for money higher: when he had amassed aboutsix hundred pounds, he purchased an annuity of seventy-two pounds, andgave out--why should he not?--that he had the capital as well as theinterest. After leaving the Hayes family in the country, he found themagain in London: he took up his abode with them, and was attached to themother and the son. Do you suppose that rascals have not affectionslike other people? hearts, madam--ay, hearts--and family ties which theycherish? As the Doctor lived on with this charming family he began toregret that he had sunk all his money in annuities, and could not, as herepeatedly vowed he would, leave his savings to his adopted children. 

He felt an indescribable pleasure ("suave mari magno, " etc. ) in watchingthe storms and tempests of the Hayes menage. He used to encourage Mrs. Catherine into anger when, haply, that lady's fits of calm would lasttoo long; he used to warm up the disputes between wife and husband, mother and son, and enjoy them beyond expression: they served him fordaily amusement; and he used to laugh until the tears ran down hisvenerable cheeks at the accounts which young Tom continually broughthim of his pranks abroad, among watchmen and constables, at taverns orelsewhere. 

When, therefore, as the party were discussing their bacon and cabbage, before which the Reverend Doctor with much gravity said grace, MasterTom entered. Doctor Wood, who had before been rather gloomy, immediatelybrightened up, and made a place for Billings between himself and Mrs. Catherine. 

"How do, old cock?" said that young gentleman familiarly. "How goes it, mother?" And so saying, he seized eagerly upon the jug of beer which Mr. Hayes had drawn, and from which the latter was about to help himself, and poured down his throat exactly one quart. 

"Ah!" said Mr. Billings, drawing breath after a draught which he hadlearned accurately to gauge from the habit of drinking out of pewtermeasures which held precisely that quantity. --"Ah!" said Mr. Billings, drawing breath, and wiping his mouth with his sleeves, "this is verythin stuff, old Squaretoes; but my coppers have been red-hot since lastnight, and they wanted a sluicing. "

"Should you like some ale, dear?" said Mrs. Hayes, that fond andjudicious parent. 

"A quart of brandy, Tom?" said Doctor Wood. "Your papa will run down tothe cellar for it in a minute. "

"I'll see him hanged first!" cried Mr. Hayes, quite frightened. 

"Oh, fie, now, you unnatural father!" said the Doctor. 

The very name of father used to put Mr. Hayes in a fury. "I'm not hisfather, thank Heaven!" said he. 

"No, nor nobody else's, " said Tom. 

Mr. Hayes only muttered "Base-born brat!"

"His father was a gentleman, --that's more than you ever were!" screamedMrs. Hayes. "His father was a man of spirit; no cowardly sneak of acarpenter, Mr Hayes! Tom has noble blood in his veins, for all he has atailor's appearance; and if his mother had had her right, she would benow in a coach-and-six. "

"I wish I could find my father, " said Tom; "for I think Polly Briggs andI would look mighty well in a coach-and-six. " Tom fancied that if hisfather was a count at the time of his birth, he must be a prince now;and, indeed, went among his companions by the latter august title. 

"Ay, Tom, that you would, " cried his mother, looking at him fondly. 

"With a sword by my side, and a hat and feather there's never a lord atSt. James's would cut a finer figure. "

After a little more of this talk, in which Mrs. Hayes let the companyknow her high opinion of her son--who, as usual, took care to showhis extreme contempt for his stepfather--the latter retired to hisoccupations; the lodger, Mrs. Springatt, who had never said a word allthis time, retired to her apartment on the second floor; and, pullingout their pipes and tobacco, the old gentleman and the young one solacedthemselves with half-an-hour's more talk and smoking; while the thriftyMrs. Hayes, opposite to them, was busy with her books. 

"What's in the confessions?" said Mr. Billings to Doctor Wood. "Therewere six of 'em besides Mac: two for sheep, four housebreakers; butnothing of consequence, I fancy. "

"There's the paper, " said Wood, archly. "Read for yourself, Tom. "

Mr. Tom looked at the same time very fierce and very foolish; for, though he could drink, swear, and fight as well as any lad of his inchesin England, reading was not among his accomplishments. "I tell you what, Doctor, " said he, "---- you! have no bantering with me, --for I'm not theman that will bear it, ---- me!" and he threw a tremendous swaggering lookacross the table. 

"I want you to learn to read, Tommy dear. Look at your mother there overher books: she keeps them as neat as a scrivener now, and at twenty shecould make never a stroke. "

"Your godfather speaks for your good, child; and for me, thou knowestthat I have promised thee a gold-headed cane and periwig on the firstday that thou canst read me a column of the Flying Post. "

"Hang the periwig!" said Mr. Tom, testily. "Let my godfather read thepaper himself, if he has a liking for it. "

Whereupon the old gentleman put on his spectacles, and glanced overthe sheet of whity-brown paper, which, ornamented with a picture ofa gallows at the top, contained the biographies of the seven unluckyindividuals who had that morning suffered the penalty of the law. Withthe six heroes who came first in the list we have nothing to do; buthave before us a copy of the paper containing the life of No. 7, andwhich the Doctor read in an audible voice. 

 "CAPTAIN MACSHANE. 

"The seventh victim to his own crimes was the famous highwayman, CaptainMacshane, so well known as the Irish Fire-eater. 

"The Captain came to the ground in a fine white lawn shirt and nightcap;and, being a Papist in his religion, was attended by Father O'Flaherty, Popish priest, and chaplain to the Bavarian Envoy. 

"Captain Macshane was born of respectable parents, in the town ofClonakilty, in Ireland, being descended from most of the kings in thatcountry. He had the honour of serving their Majesties King Williamand Queen Mary, and Her Majesty Queen Anne, in Flanders and Spain, andobtained much credit from my Lords Marlborough and Peterborough for hisvalour. 

"But being placed on half-pay at the end of the war, Ensign Macshanetook to evil courses; and, frequenting the bagnios and dice-houses, wasspeedily brought to ruin. 

"Being at this pass, he fell in with the notorious Captain Wood, andthey two together committed many atrocious robberies in the inlandcounties; but these being too hot to hold them, they went into the west, where they were unknown. Here, however, the day of retribution arrived;for, having stolen three pewter-pots from a public-house, they, underfalse names, were tried at Exeter, and transported for seven yearsbeyond the sea. Thus it is seen that Justice never sleeps; but, sooneror latter, is sure to overtake the criminal. 

"On their return from Virginia, a quarrel about booty arose betweenthese two, and Macshane killed Wood in a combat that took place betweenthem near to the town of Bristol; but a waggon coming up, Macshanewas obliged to fly without the ill-gotten wealth: so true is it, thatwickedness never prospers. 

"Two days afterwards, Macshane met the coach of Miss Macraw, a Scotchlady and heiress, going, for lumbago and gout, to the Bath. He at firstwould have robbed this lady; but such were his arts, that he inducedher to marry him; and they lived together for seven years in the town ofEddenboro, in Scotland, --he passing under the name of Colonel Geraldine. The lady dying, and Macshane having expended all her wealth, he wasobliged to resume his former evil courses, in order to save himselffrom starvation; whereupon he robbed a Scotch lord, by name the Lord ofWhistlebinkie, of a mull of snuff; for which crime he was condemned tothe Tolbooth prison at Eddenboro, in Scotland, and whipped many times inpublick. 

"These deserved punishments did not at all alter Captain Macshane'sdisposition; and on the 17th of February last, he stopped the BavarianEnvoy's coach on Blackheath, coming from Dover, and robbed hisExcellency and his chaplain; taking from the former his money, watches, star, a fur-cloak, his sword (a very valuable one); and from the lattera Romish missal, out of which he was then reading, and a case-bottle. "

"The Bavarian Envoy!" said Tom parenthetically. "My master, Beinkleider, was his Lordship's regimental tailor in Germany, and is now making aCourt suit for him. It will be a matter of a hundred pounds to him, Iwarrant. "

Doctor Wood resumed his reading. "Hum--hum! A Romish missal, out ofwhich he was reading, and a case-bottle. 

"By means of the famous Mr. Wild, this notorious criminal was broughtto justice, and the case-bottle and missal have been restored to FatherO'Flaherty. 

"During his confinement in Newgate, Mr. Macshane could not be brought toexpress any contrition for his crimes, except that of having killed hiscommanding officer. For this Wood he pretended an excessive sorrow, and vowed that usquebaugh had been the cause of his death, --indeed, inprison he partook of no other liquor, and drunk a bottle of it on theday before his death. 

"He was visited by several of the clergy and gentry in his cell; amongothers, by the Popish priest whom he had robbed, Father O'Flaherty, before mentioned, who attended him likewise in his last moments (ifthat idolatrous worship may be called attention), and likewise bythe Father's patron, the Bavarian Ambassador, his Excellency CountMaximilian de Galgenstein. "

As old Wood came to these words, he paused to give them utterance. 

"What! Max?" screamed Mrs. Hayes, letting her ink-bottle fall over herledgers. 

"Why, be hanged if it ben't my father!" said Mr. Billings. 

"Your father, sure enough, unless there be others of his name, andunless the scoundrel is hanged, " said the Doctor--sinking his voice, however, at the end of the sentence. 

Mr. Billings broke his pipe in an agony of joy. "I think we'll have thecoach now, Mother, " says he; "and I'm blessed if Polly Briggs shall notlook as fine as a duchess. "

"Polly Briggs is a low slut, Tom, and not fit for the likes of you, hisExcellency's son. Oh, fie! You must be a gentleman now, sirrah; andI doubt whether I shan't take you away from that odious tailor's shopaltogether. "

To this proposition Mr. Billings objected altogether; for, besides Mrs. Briggs before alluded to, the young gentleman was much attached to hismaster's daughter, Mrs. Margaret Gretel, or Gretchen Beinkleider. 

"No, " says he. "There will be time to think of that hereafter, ma'am. Ifmy pa makes a man of me, why, of course, the shop may go to the deuce, for what I care; but we had better wait, look you, for something certainbefore we give up such a pretty bird in the hand as this. "

"He speaks like Solomon, " said the Doctor. 

"I always said he would be a credit to his old mother, didn't I, Brock?"cried Mrs. Cat, embracing her son very affectionately. "A credit to her;ay, I warrant, a real blessing! And dost thou want any money, Tom? fora lord's son must not go about without a few pieces in his pocket. And Itell thee, Tommy, thou must go and see his Lordship; and thou shalthave a piece of brocade for a waistcoat, thou shalt; ay, and thesilver-hilted sword I told thee of; but oh, Tommy, Tommy! have a care, and don't be a-drawing of it in naughty company at the gaming-houses, orat the--"

"A drawing of fiddlesticks, Mother! If I go to see my father, I musthave a reason for it; and instead of going with a sword in my hand, Ishall take something else in it. "

"The lad IS a lad of nous, " cried Doctor Wood, "although his mother doesspoil him so cruelly. Look you, Madam Cat: did you not hear what he saidabout Beinkleider and the clothes? Tommy will just wait on the Countwith his Lordship's breeches. A man may learn a deal of news in thetrying on of a pair of breeches. "

And so it was agreed that in this manner the son should at firstmake his appearance before his father. Mrs. Cat gave him the piece ofbrocade, which, in the course of the day, was fashioned into a smartwaistcoat (for Beinkleider's shop was close by, in Cavendish Square). Mrs. Gretel, with many blushes, tied a fine blue riband round his neck;and, in a pair of silk stockings, with gold buckles to his shoes, MasterBillings looked a very proper young gentleman. 

"And, Tommy, " said his mother, blushing and hesitating, "shouldMax--should his Lordship ask after your--want to know if your mother isalive, you can say she is, and well, and often talks of old times. And, Tommy" (after another pause), "you needn't say anything about Mr. Hayes;only say I'm quite well. "

Mrs. Hayes looked at him as he marched down the street, a long long way. Tom was proud and gay in his new costume, and was not unlike his father. As she looked, lo! Oxford Street disappeared, and she saw a greencommon, and a village, and a little inn. There was a soldier leading apair of horses about on the green common; and in the inn sat a cavalier, so young, so merry, so beautiful! Oh, what slim white hands he had; andwinning words, and tender, gentle blue eyes! Was it not an honour toa country lass that such a noble gentleman should look at her for amoment? Had he not some charm about him that she must needs obey when hewhispered in her ear, "Come, follow me!" As she walked towards the lanethat morning, how well she remembered each spot as she passed it, andthe look it wore for the last time! How the smoke was rising from thepastures, how the fish were jumping and plashing in the mill-stream!There was the church, with all its windows lighted up with gold, andyonder were the reapers sweeping down the brown corn. She tried to singas she went up the hill--what was it? She could not remember; but oh, how well she remembered the sound of the horse's hoofs, as they camequicker, quicker--nearer, nearer! How noble he looked on his greathorse! Was he thinking of her, or were they all silly words which hespoke last night, merely to pass away the time and deceive poor girlswith? Would he remember them, --would he?

"Cat my dear, " here cried Mr. Brock, alias Captain, alias Doctor Wood, "here's the meat a-getting cold, and I am longing for my breakfast. "

As they went in he looked her hard in the face. "What, still at it, you silly girl? I've been watching you these five minutes, Cat; and behanged but I think a word from Galgenstein, and you would follow him asa fly does a treacle-pot!"

They went in to breakfast; but though there was a hot shoulder of muttonand onion-sauce--Mrs. Catherine's favourite dish--she never touched amorsel of it. 

In the meanwhile Mr. Thomas Billings, in his new clothes which his mammahad given him, in his new riband which the fair Miss Beinkleider hadtied round his neck, and having his Excellency's breeches wrapped ina silk handkerchief in his right hand, turned down in the direction ofWhitehall, where the Bavarian Envoy lodged. But, before he waitedon him, Mr. Billings, being excessively pleased with his personalappearance, made an early visit to Mrs. Briggs, who lived in theneighbourhood of Swallow Street; and who, after expressing herself withmuch enthusiasm regarding her Tommy's good looks, immediately asked himwhat he would stand to drink? Raspberry gin being suggested, a pint ofthat liquor was sent for; and so great was the confidence and intimacysubsisting between these two young people, that the reader will be gladto hear that Mrs. Polly accepted every shilling of the money which TomBillings had received from his mamma the day before; nay, could withdifficulty be prevented from seizing upon the cut-velvet breeches whichhe was carrying to the nobleman for whom they were made. Having paid hisadieux to Mrs. Polly, Mr. Billings departed to visit his father. 

CHAPTER IX. INTERVIEW BETWEEN COUNT GALGENSTEIN AND MASTER THOMASBILLINGS, WHEN HE INFORMS THE COUNT OF HIS PARENTAGE. 

I don't know in all this miserable world a more miserable spectacle thanthat of a young fellow of five or six and forty. The British army, thatnursery of valour, turns out many of the young fellows I mean: who, having flaunted in dragoon uniforms from seventeen to six-and-thirty;having bought, sold, or swapped during that period some two hundredhorses; having played, say, fifteen thousand games at billiards; havingdrunk some six thousand bottles of wine; having consumed a reasonablenumber of Nugee coats, split many dozen pairs of high-heeled Hoby boots, and read the newspaper and the army-list duly, retire from the servicewhen they have attained their eighth lustre, and saunter through theworld, trailing from London to Cheltenham, and from Boulogne to Paris, and from Paris to Baden, their idleness, their ill-health, and theirennui. "In the morning of youth, " and when seen along with whole troopsof their companions, these flowers look gaudy and brilliant enough;but there is no object more dismal than one of them alone, and in itsautumnal, or seedy state. My friend, Captain Popjoy, is one who hasarrived at this condition, and whom everybody knows by his title ofFather Pop. A kinder, simpler, more empty-headed fellow does not exist. He is forty-seven years old, and appears a young, good-looking manof sixty. At the time of the Army of Occupation he really was asgood-looking a man as any in the Dragoons. He now uses all sorts ofstratagems to cover the bald place on his head, by combing certainthin grey sidelocks over it. He has, in revenge, a pair of enormousmoustaches, which he dyes of the richest blue-black. His nose is a gooddeal larger and redder than it used to be; his eyelids have grown flatand heavy; and a little pair of red, watery eyeballs float in the midstof them: it seems as if the light which was once in those sickly greenpupils had extravasated into the white part of the eye. If Pop's legsare not so firm and muscular as they used to be in those days when hetook such leaps into White's buckskins, in revenge his waist is muchlarger. He wears a very good coat, however, and a waistband, which helets out after dinner. Before ladies he blushes, and is as silent as aschoolboy. He calls them "modest women. " His society is chiefly amongyoung lads belonging to his former profession. He knows the best wineto be had at each tavern or cafe, and the waiters treat him with muchrespectful familiarity. He knows the names of every one of them; andshouts out, "Send Markwell here!" or, "Tell Cuttriss to give us a bottleof the yellow seal!" or, "Dizzy voo, Monsure Borrel, noo donny shampangfrappy, " etc. He always makes the salad or the punch, and dinesout three hundred days in the year: the other days you see him in atwo-franc eating-house at Paris, or prowling about Rupert Street, or St. Martin's Court, where you get a capital cut of meat for eightpence. Hehas decent lodgings and scrupulously clean linen; his animal functionsare still tolerably well preserved, his spiritual have evaporated longsince; he sleeps well, has no conscience, believes himself to be arespectable fellow, and is tolerably happy on the days when he is askedout to dinner. 

Poor Pop is not very high in the scale of created beings; but, if youfancy there is none lower, you are in egregious error. There was oncea man who had a mysterious exhibition of an animal, quite unknown tonaturalists, called "the wusser. " Those curious individuals who desiredto see the wusser were introduced into an apartment where appearedbefore them nothing more than a little lean shrivelled hideousblear-eyed mangy pig. Everyone cried out "Swindle!" and "Shame!""Patience, gentlemen, be heasy, " said the showman: "look at that therehanimal; it's a perfect phenomaly of hugliness: I engage you never seesuch a pig. " Nobody ever had seen. "Now, gentlemen, " said he, "I'll keepmy promise, has per bill; and bad as that there pig is, look at thishere" (he showed another). "Look at this here, and you'll see at oncethat it's A WUSSER. " In like manner the Popjoy breed is bad enough, butit serves only to show off the Galgenstein race; which is WUSSER. 

Galgenstein had led a very gay life, as the saying is, for the lastfifteen years; such a gay one, that he had lost all capacity ofenjoyment by this time, and only possessed inclinations withoutpowers of gratifying them. He had grown to be exquisitely curious andfastidious about meat and drink, for instance, and all that he wantedwas an appetite. He carried about with him a French cook, who could notmake him eat; a doctor, who could not make him well; a mistress, of whomhe was heartily sick after two days; a priest, who had been a favouriteof the exemplary Dubois, and by turns used to tickle him by theimposition of penance, or by the repetition of a tale from the recueilof Noce, or La Fare. All his appetites were wasted and worn; only somemonstrosity would galvanise them into momentary action. He was in thateffete state to which many noblemen of his time had arrived; who wereready to believe in ghost-raising or in gold-making, or to retire intomonasteries and wear hair-shirts, or to dabble in conspiracies, or todie in love with little cook-maids of fifteen, or to pine for the smilesor at the frowns of a prince of the blood, or to go mad at the refusalof a chamberlain's key. The last gratification he remembered to haveenjoyed was that of riding bareheaded in a soaking rain for three hoursby the side of his Grand Duke's mistress's coach; taking the pas ofCount Krahwinkel, who challenged him, and was run through the body forthis very dispute. Galgenstein gained a rheumatic gout by it, which puthim to tortures for many months; and was further gratified with the postof English Envoy. He had a fortune, he asked no salary, and couldlook the envoy very well. Father O'Flaherty did all the duties, andfurthermore acted as a spy over the ambassador--a sinecure post, for theman had no feelings, wishes, or opinions--absolutely none. 

"Upon my life, father, " said this worthy man, "I care for nothing. Youhave been talking for an hour about the Regent's death, and the Duchessof Phalaris, and sly old Fleury, and what not; and I care just as muchas if you told me that one of my bauers at Galgenstein had killed a pig;or as if my lacquey, La Rose yonder, had made love to my mistress. "

"He does!" said the reverend gentleman. 

"Ah, Monsieur l'Abbe!" said La Rose, who was arranging his master'senormous Court periwig, "you are, helas! wrong. Monsieur le Comte willnot be angry at my saying that I wish the accusation were true. "

The Count did not take the slightest notice of La Rose's wit, butcontinued his own complaints. 

"I tell you, Abbe, I care for nothing. I lost a thousand guineas t'othernight at basset; I wish to my heart I could have been vexed about it. Egad! I remember the day when to lose a hundred made me half mad fora month. Well, next day I had my revenge at dice, and threw thirteenmains. There was some delay; a call for fresh bones, I think; and wouldyou believe it?--I fell asleep with the box in my hand!"

"A desperate case, indeed, " said the Abbe. 

"If it had not been for Krahwinkel, I should have been a dead man, that's positive. That pinking him saved me. "

"I make no doubt of it, " said the Abbe. "Had your Excellency not run himthrough, he, without a doubt, would have done the same for you. "

"Psha! you mistake my words, Monsieur l'Abbe" (yawning). "I mean--whatcursed chocolate!--that I was dying for want of excitement. Not that Icared for dying; no, d---- me if I do!"

"WHEN you do, your Excellency means, " said the Abbe, a fat grey-hairedIrishman, from the Irlandois College at Paris. 

His Excellency did not laugh, nor understand jokes of any kind; he wasof an undeviating stupidity, and only replied, "Sir, I mean what I say. I don't care for living: no, nor for dying either; but I can speak aswell as another, and I'll thank you not to be correcting my phrases asif I were one of your cursed schoolboys, and not a gentleman of fortuneand blood. "

Herewith the Count, who had uttered four sentences about himself (henever spoke of anything else), sunk back on his pillows again, quiteexhausted by his eloquence. The Abbe, who had a seat and a table by thebedside, resumed the labours which had brought him into the room in themorning, and busied himself with papers, which occasionally he handedover to his superior for approval. 

Presently Monsieur la Rose appeared. 

"Here is a person with clothes from Mr. Beinkleider's. Will yourExcellency see him, or shall I bid him leave the clothes?"

The Count was very much fatigued by this time; he had signed threepapers, and read the first half-a-dozen lines of a pair of them. 

"Bid the fellow come in, La Rose; and, hark ye, give me my wig: onemust show one's self to be a gentleman before these scoundrels. " And hetherefore mounted a large chestnut-coloured, orange-scented pyramid ofhorsehair, which was to awe the new-comer. 

He was a lad of about seventeen, in a smart waistcoat and a blue riband:our friend Tom Billings, indeed. He carried under his arm the Count'sdestined breeches. He did not seem in the least awed, however, byhis Excellency's appearance, but looked at him with a great degree ofcuriosity and boldness. In the same manner he surveyed the chaplain, andthen nodded to him with a kind look of recognition. 

"Where have I seen the lad?" said the father. "Oh, I have it! My goodfriend, you were at the hanging yesterday, I think?"

Mr. Billings gave a very significant nod with his head. "I never miss, "said he. 

"What a young Turk! And pray, sir, do you go for pleasure, or forbusiness?"

"Business! what do you mean by business?"

"Oh, I did not know whether you might be brought up to the trade, oryour relations be undergoing the operation. "

"My relations, " said Mr. Billings, proudly, and staring the Count fullin the face, "was not made for no such thing. I'm a tailor now, but I'ma gentleman's son: as good a man, ay, as his lordship there: for YOUa'n't his lordship--you're the Popish priest you are; and we were verynear giving you a touch of a few Protestant stones, master. "

The Count began to be a little amused: he was pleased to see the Abbelook alarmed, or even foolish. 

"Egad, Abbe, " said he, "you turn as white as a sheet. "

"I don't fancy being murdered, my Lord, " said the Abbe, hastily;"and murdered for a good work. It was but to be useful to yonder poorIrishman, who saved me as a prisoner in Flanders, when Marlborough wouldhave hung me up like poor Macshane himself was yesterday. "

"Ah!" said the Count, bursting out with some energy, "I was thinking whothe fellow could be, ever since he robbed me on the Heath. I recollectthe scoundrel now: he was a second in a duel I had here in the yearsix. "

"Along with Major Wood, behind Montague House, " said Mr. Billings. "I'VEheard on it. " And here he looked more knowing than ever. 

"YOU!" cried the Count, more and more surprised. "And pray who the devilARE you?"

"My name's Billings. "

"Billings?" said the Count. 

"I come out of Warwickshire, " said Mr. Billings. 

"Indeed!"

"I was born at Birmingham town. "

"Were you, really!"

"My mother's name was Hayes, " continued Billings, in a solemn voice. "Iwas put out to a nurse along with John Billings, a blacksmith; and myfather run away. NOW do you know who I am?"

"Why, upon honour, now, " said the Count, who was amused, --"upon honour, Mr. Billings, I have not that advantage. "

"Well, then, my Lord, YOU'RE MY FATHER!"

Mr. Billings when he said this came forward to the Count with atheatrical air; and, flinging down the breeches of which he was thebearer, held out his arms and stared, having very little doubt but thathis Lordship would forthwith spring out of bed and hug him to his heart. A similar piece of naivete many fathers of families have, I have nodoubt, remarked in their children; who, not caring for their parents asingle doit, conceive, nevertheless, that the latter are bound to showall sorts of affection for them. His lordship did move, but backwardstowards the wall, and began pulling at the bell-rope with an expressionof the most intense alarm. 

"Keep back, sirrah!--keep back! Suppose I AM your father, do you wantto murder me? Good heavens! how the boy smells of gin and tobacco! Don'tturn away, my lad; sit down there at a proper distance. And, La Rose, give him some eau-de-Cologne, and get a cup of coffee. Well, now, go onwith your story. Egad, my dear Abbe, I think it is very likely that whatthe lad says is true. "

"If it is a family conversation, " said the Abbe, "I had better leaveyou. "

"Oh, for Heaven's sake, no! I could not stand the boy alone. Now, Misterah!--What's-your-name? Have the goodness to tell your story. "

Mr. Billings was woefully disconcerted; for his mother and he had agreedthat as soon as his father saw him he would be recognised at once, and, mayhap, made heir to the estates and title; in which being disappointed, he very sulkily went on with his narrative, and detailed many of thoseevents with which the reader has already been made acquainted. The Countasked the boy's mother's Christian name, and being told it, his memoryat once returned to him. 

"What! are you little Cat's son?" said his Excellency. "By heavens, moncher Abbe, a charming creature, but a tigress--positively a tigress. Irecollect the whole affair now. She's a little fresh black-haired woman, a'n't she? with a sharp nose and thick eyebrows, ay? Ah yes, yes!" wenton my Lord, "I recollect her, I recollect her. It was at Birmingham Ifirst met her: she was my Lady Trippet's woman, wasn't she?"

"She was no such thing, " said Mr. Billings, hotly. "Her aunt kept the'Bugle Inn' on Waltham Green, and your Lordship seduced her. "

"Seduced her! Oh, 'gad, so I did. Stap me, now, I did. Yes, I made herjump on my black horse, and bore her off like--like Aeneas bore his wifeaway from the siege of Rome! hey, l'Abbe?"

"The events were precisely similar, " said the Abbe. "It is wonderfulwhat a memory you have!"

"I was always remarkable for it, " continued his Excellency. "Well, wherewas I, --at the black horse? Yes, at the black horse. Well, I mountedher on the black horse, and rode her en croupe, egad--ha, ha!--toBirmingham; and there we billed and cooed together like a pair ofturtle-doves: yes--ha!--that we did!"

"And this, I suppose, is the end of some of the BILLINGS?" said theAbbe, pointing to Mr. Tom. 

"Billings! what do you mean? Yes--oh--ah--a pun, a calembourg. Fidonc, M. L'Abbe. " And then, after the wont of very stupid people, M. DeGalgenstein went on to explain to the Abbe his own pun. "Well, but toproceed, " cries he. "We lived together at Birmingham, and I was going tobe married to a rich heiress, egad! when what do you think this littleCat does? She murders me, egad! and makes me manquer the marriage. Twenty thousand, I think it was; and I wanted the money in those days. Now, wasn't she an abominable monster, that mother of yours, hey, Mr. A--What's-your-name?"

"She served you right!" said Mr. Billings, with a great oath, startingup out of all patience. 

"Fellow!" said his Excellency, quite aghast, "do you know to whom youspeak?--to a nobleman of seventy-eight descents; a count of the HolyRoman Empire; a representative of a sovereign? Ha, egad! Don't stamp, fellow, if you hope for my protection. "

"D--n your protection!" said Mr. Billings, in a fury. "Curse you andyour protection too! I'm a free-born Briton, and no ---- French Papist!And any man who insults my mother--ay, or calls me feller--had betterlook to himself and the two eyes in his head, I can tell him!" And withthis Mr. Billings put himself into the most approved attitude of theCockpit, and invited his father, the reverend gentleman, and Monsieurla Rose the valet, to engage with him in a pugilistic encounter. The twolatter, the Abbe especially, seemed dreadfully frightened; but the Countnow looked on with much interest; and, giving utterance to a feeble kindof chuckle, which lasted for about half a minute, said, --

"Paws off, Pompey! You young hangdog, you--egad, yes, aha! 'pon honour, you're a lad of spirit; some of your father's spunk in you, hey? I knowhim by that oath. Why, sir, when I was sixteen, I used to swear--toswear, egad, like a Thames waterman, and exactly in this fellow's way!Buss me, my lad; no, kiss my hand. That will do"--and he held out a verylean yellow hand, peering from a pair of yellow ruffles. It shook verymuch, and the shaking made all the rings upon it shine only the more. 

"Well, " says Mr. Billings, "if you wasn't a-going to abuse me normother, I don't care if I shake hands with you. I ain't proud!"

The Abbe laughed with great glee; and that very evening sent off to hisCourt a most ludicrous spicy description of the whole scene of meetingbetween this amiable father and child; in which he said that youngBillings was the eleve favori of M. Kitch, Ecuyer, le bourreau deLondres, and which made the Duke's mistress laugh so much that she vowedthat the Abbe should have a bishopric on his return: for, with suchstore of wisdom, look you, my son, was the world governed in those days. 

The Count and his offspring meanwhile conversed with some cordiality. The former informed the latter of all the diseases to which hewas subject, his manner of curing them, his great consideration aschamberlain to the Duke of Bavaria; how he wore his Court suits, and ofa particular powder which he had invented for the hair; how, when hewas seventeen, he had run away with a canoness, egad! who was afterwardslocked up in a convent, and grew to be sixteen stone in weight; howhe remembered the time when ladies did not wear patches; and how theDuchess of Marlborough boxed his ears when he was so high, because hewanted to kiss her. 

All these important anecdotes took some time in the telling, and wereaccompanied by many profound moral remarks; such as, "I can't abidegarlic, nor white-wine, stap me! nor Sauerkraut, though his Highnesseats half a bushel per day. I ate it the first time at Court; but whenthey brought it me a second time, I refused--refused, split me and grillme if I didn't! Everybody stared; his Highness looked as fierce asa Turk; and that infernal Krahwinkel (my dear, I did for himafterwards)--that cursed Krahwinkel, I say, looked as pleased aspossible, and whispered to Countess Fritsch, 'Blitzchen, Frau Grafinn, 'says he, 'it's all over with Galgenstein. ' What did I do? I had theentree, and demanded it. 'Altesse, ' says I, falling on one knee, 'I ateno kraut at dinner to-day. You remarked it: I saw your Highness remarkit. '

"'I did, M. Le Comte, ' said his Highness, gravely. 

"I had almost tears in my eyes; but it was necessary to come to aresolution, you know. 'Sir, ' said I, 'I speak with deep grief to yourHighness, who are my benefactor, my friend, my father; but of this Iam resolved, I WILL NEVER EAT SAUERKRAUT MORE: it don't agree with me. After being laid up for four weeks by the last dish of Sauerkraut ofwhich I partook, I may say with confidence--IT DON'T agree with me. Byimpairing my health, it impairs my intellect, and weakens my strength;and both I would keep for your Highness's service. '

"'Tut, tut!' said his Highness. 'Tut, tut, tut!' Those were his verywords. 

"'Give me my sword or my pen, ' said I. 'Give me my sword or my pen, and with these Maximilian de Galgenstein is ready to serve you; butsure, --sure, a great prince will pity the weak health of a faithfulsubject, who does not know how to eat Sauerkraut?' His Highness waswalking about the room: I was still on my knees, and stretched forwardmy hand to seize his coat. 

"'GEHT ZUM TEUFEL, Sir!' said he, in a loud voice (it means 'Go to thedeuce, ' my dear), --'Geht zum Teufel, and eat what you like!' With thishe went out of the room abruptly; leaving in my hand one of his buttons, which I keep to this day. As soon as I was alone, amazed by his greatgoodness and bounty, I sobbed aloud--cried like a child" (the Count'seyes filled and winked at the very recollection), "and when I went backinto the card-room, stepping up to Krahwinkel, 'Count, ' says I, 'wholooks foolish now?'--Hey there, La Rose, give me the diamond--Yes, thatwas the very pun I made, and very good it was thought. 'Krahwinkel, 'says I, 'WHO LOOKS FOOLISH NOW?' and from that day to this I was neverat a Court-day asked to eat Sauerkraut--NEVER!"

"Hey there, La Rose! Bring me that diamond snuff-box in the drawer of mysecretaire;" and the snuff-box was brought. "Look at it, my dear, " saidthe Count, "for I saw you seemed to doubt. There is the button--the veryone that came off his Grace's coat. "

Mr. Billings received it, and twisted it about with a stupid air. Thestory had quite mystified him; for he did not dare yet to think hisfather was a fool--his respect for the aristocracy prevented him. 

When the Count's communications had ceased, which they did as soon asthe story of the Sauerkraut was finished, a silence of some minutesensued. Mr. Billings was trying to comprehend the circumstances abovenarrated; his Lordship was exhausted; the chaplain had quitted the roomdirectly the word Sauerkraut was mentioned--he knew what was coming. HisLordship looked for some time at his son; who returned the gaze withhis mouth wide open. "Well, " said the Count--"well, sir? What are yousitting there for? If you have nothing to say, sir, you had better go. Ihad you here to amuse me--split me--and not to sit there staring!"

Mr. Billings rose in a fury. 

"Hark ye, my lad, " said the Count, "tell La Rose to give thee fiveguineas, and, ah--come again some morning. A nice well-grown young lad, "mused the Count, as Master Tommy walked wondering out of the apartment;"a pretty fellow enough, and intelligent too. "

"Well, he IS an odd fellow, my father, " thought Mr. Billings, as hewalked out, having received the sum offered to him. And he immediatelywent to call upon his friend Polly Briggs, from whom he had separated inthe morning. 

What was the result of their interview is not at all necessary to theprogress of this history. Having made her, however, acquainted with theparticulars of his visit to his father, he went to his mother's, andrelated to her all that had occurred. 

Poor thing, she was very differently interested in the issue of it!

CHAPTER X. SHOWING HOW GALGENSTEIN AND MRS. CAT RECOGNISE EACH OTHER INMARYLEBONE GARDENS--AND HOW THE COUNT DRIVES HER HOME IN HIS CARRIAGE. 

About a month after the touching conversation above related, there wasgiven, at Marylebone Gardens, a grand concert and entertainment, atwhich the celebrated Madame Amenaide, a dancer of the theatre at Paris, was to perform, under the patronage of several English and foreignnoblemen; among whom was his Excellency the Bavarian Envoy. MadameAmenaide was, in fact, no other than the maitresse en titre of theMonsieur de Galgenstein, who had her a great bargain from the Duke deRohan-Chabot at Paris. 

It is not our purpose to make a great and learned display here, otherwise the costumes of the company assembled at this fete mightafford scope for at least half-a-dozen pages of fine writing; and wemight give, if need were, specimens of the very songs and music sung onthe occasion. Does not the Burney collection of music, at the BritishMuseum, afford one an ample store of songs from which to choose?Are there not the memoirs of Colley Cibber? those of Mrs. Clark, thedaughter of Colley? Is there not Congreve, and Farquhar--nay, and at apinch, the "Dramatic Biography, " or even the Spectator, from which theobservant genius might borrow passages, and construct pretty antiquarianfigments? Leave we these trifles to meaner souls! Our business is notwith the breeches and periwigs, with the hoops and patches, but with thedivine hearts of men, and the passions which agitate them. What need, therefore, have we to say that on this evening, after the dancing, themusic, and the fireworks, Monsieur de Galgenstein felt the strange andwelcome pangs of appetite, and was picking a cold chicken, along withsome other friends in an arbour--a cold chicken, with an accompanimentof a bottle of champagne--when he was led to remark that a very handsomeplump little person, in a gorgeous stiff damask gown and petticoat, wassauntering up and down the walk running opposite his supping-place, andbestowing continual glances towards his Excellency. The lady, whoevershe was, was in a mask, such as ladies of high and low fashion wore atpublic places in those days, and had a male companion. He was a lad ofonly seventeen, marvellously well dressed--indeed, no other than theCount's own son, Mr. Thomas Billings; who had at length received fromhis mother the silver-hilted sword, and the wig, which that affectionateparent had promised to him. 

In the course of the month which had elapsed since the interview thathas been described in the former chapter, Mr. Billings had several timeshad occasion to wait on his father; but though he had, according to herwishes, frequently alluded to the existence of his mother, the Count hadnever at any time expressed the slightest wish to renew his acquaintancewith that lady; who, if she had seen him, had only seen him by stealth. 

The fact is, that after Billings had related to her the particulars ofhis first meeting with his Excellency; which ended, like many of thelatter visits, in nothing at all; Mrs. Hayes had found some pressingbusiness, which continually took her to Whitehall, and had been prowlingfrom day to day about Monsieur de Galgenstein's lodgings. Four or fivetimes in the week, as his Excellency stepped into his coach, he mighthave remarked, had he chosen, a woman in a black hood, who was lookingmost eagerly into his eyes: but those eyes had long since left off thepractice of observing; and Madam Catherine's visits had so far gone fornothing. 

On this night, however, inspired by gaiety and drink, the Count had beenamazingly stricken by the gait and ogling of the lady in the mask. TheReverend O'Flaherty, who was with him, and had observed the figure inthe black cloak, recognised, or thought he recognised, her. "It is thewoman who dogs your Excellency every day, " said he. "She is with thattailor lad who loves to see people hanged--your Excellency's son, Imean. " And he was just about to warn the Count of a conspiracy evidentlymade against him, and that the son had brought, most likely, the motherto play her arts upon him--he was just about, I say, to show to theCount the folly and danger of renewing an old liaison with a woman suchas he had described Mrs. Cat to be, when his Excellency, startingup, and interrupting his ghostly adviser at the very beginning of hissentence, said, "Egad, l'Abbe, you are right--it IS my son, and a mightysmart-looking creature with him. Hey! Mr. What's-your-name--Tom, yourogue, don't you know your own father?" And so saying, and cocking hisbeaver on one side, Monsieur de Galgenstein strutted jauntily after Mr. Billings and the lady. 

It was the first time that the Count had formally recognised his son. 

"Tom, you rogue, " stopped at this, and the Count came up. He had a whitevelvet suit, covered over with stars and orders, a neat modest wig andbag, and peach-coloured silk-stockings with silver clasps. The ladyin the mask gave a start as his Excellency came forward. "Law, mother, don't squeege so, " said Tom. The poor woman was trembling in every limb, but she had presence of mind to "squeege" Tom a great deal harder; andthe latter took the hint, I suppose, and was silent. 

The splendid Count came up. Ye gods, how his embroidery glittered in thelamps! What a royal exhalation of musk and bergamot came from his wig, his handkerchief, and his grand lace ruffles and frills! A broad yellowriband passed across his breast, and ended at his hip in a shiningdiamond cross--a diamond cross, and a diamond sword-hilt! Was anythingever seen so beautiful? And might not a poor woman tremble when sucha noble creature drew near to her, and deigned, from the height of hisrank and splendour, to look down upon her? As Jove came down to Semelein state, in his habits of ceremony, with all the grand cordons of hisorders blazing about his imperial person--thus dazzling, magnificent, triumphant, the great Galgenstein descended towards Mrs. Catherine. Her cheeks glowed red-hot under her coy velvet mask, her heart thumpedagainst the whalebone prison of her stays. What a delicious storm ofvanity was raging in her bosom! What a rush of long-pent recollectionsburst forth at the sound of that enchanting voice!

As you wind up a hundred-guinea chronometer with a twopennywatch-key--as by means of a dirty wooden plug you set all the waters ofVersailles a-raging, and splashing, and storming--in like manner, and bylike humble agents, were Mrs. Catherine's tumultuous passions set going. The Count, we have said, slipped up to his son, and merely saying, "Howdo, Tom?" cut the young gentleman altogether, and passing round to thelady's side, said, "Madam, 'tis a charming evening--egad it is!" Shealmost fainted: it was the old voice. There he was, after seventeenyears, once more at her side!

Now I know what I could have done. I can turn out a quotation fromSophocles (by looking to the index) as well as another: I can throw offa bit of fine writing too, with passion, similes, and a moral at theend. What, pray, is the last sentence but one but the very finestwriting? Suppose, for example, I had made Maximilian, as he stood by theside of Catherine, look up towards the clouds, and exclaim, in the wordsof the voluptuous Cornelius Nepos, 'Aenaoi nephelai 'Arthoomen phanerai Droseran phusin euageetoi, k. T. L. [*]

 * Anglicised version of the author's original Greek text. 

Or suppose, again, I had said, in a style still more popular:--

The Count advanced towards the maiden. They both were mute for awhile; and only the beating of her heart interrupted that thrilling andpassionate silence. Ah, what years of buried joys and fears, hopes anddisappointments, arose from their graves in the far past, and in thosebrief moments flitted before the united ones! How sad was that deliciousretrospect, and oh, how sweet! The tears that rolled down the cheek ofeach were bubbles from the choked and moss-grown wells of youth; thesigh that heaved each bosom had some lurking odours in it--memories ofthe fragrance of boyhood, echoes of the hymns of the young heart! Thusis it ever--for these blessed recollections the soul always has a place;and while crime perishes, and sorrow is forgotten, the beautiful aloneis eternal. 

"O golden legends, written in the skies!" mused De Galgenstein, "yeshine as ye did in the olden days! WE change, but YE speak ever the samelanguage. Gazing in your abysmal depths, the feeble ratioci--"

 *****

There, now, are six columns[*] of the best writing to be found in thisor any other book. Galgenstein has quoted Euripides thrice, Plato once, Lycophron nine times, besides extracts from the Latin syntax and theminor Greek poets. Catherine's passionate embreathings are of the mostfashionable order; and I call upon the ingenious critic of the X----newspaper to say whether they do not possess the real impress of thegiants of the olden time--the real Platonic smack, in a word? Not that Iwant in the least to show off; but it is as well, every now and then, toshow the public what one CAN do. 

 (* There WERE six columns, as mentioned by the accurate Mr. Solomons; but we have withdrawn two pages and three- quarters, because, although our correspondent has been excessively eloquent, according to custom, we were anxious to come to the facts of the story. 

 Mr. Solomons, by sending to our office, may have the cancelled passages. --O. Y. )

Instead, however, of all this rant and nonsense, how much finer is thespeech that the Count really did make! "It is a very fine evening, --egadit is!" The "egad" did the whole business: Mrs. Cat was as much in lovewith him now as ever she had been; and, gathering up all her energies, she said, "It is dreadful hot too, I think;" and with this she made acurtsey. 

"Stifling, split me!" added his Excellency. "What do you say, madam, toa rest in an arbour, and a drink of something cool?"

"Sir!" said the lady, drawing back. 

"Oh, a drink--a drink by all means, " exclaimed Mr. Billings, who wastroubled with a perpetual thirst. "Come, mo--, Mrs. Jones, I mean. You're fond of a glass of cold punch, you know; and the rum here isprime, I can tell you. "

The lady in the mask consented with some difficulty to the proposal ofMr. Billings, and was led by the two gentlemen into an arbour, where shewas seated between them; and some wax-candles being lighted, punch wasbrought. 

She drank one or two glasses very eagerly, and so did her twocompanions; although it was evident to see, from the flushed looks ofboth of them, that they had little need of any such stimulus. The Count, in the midst of his champagne, it must be said, had been amazinglystricken and scandalised by the appearance of such a youth as Billingsin a public place with a lady under his arm. He was, the reader willtherefore understand, in the moral stage of liquor; and when he issuedout, it was not merely with the intention of examining Mr. Billings'sfemale companion, but of administering to him some sound correction forventuring, at his early period of life, to form any such acquaintances. On joining Billings, his Excellency's first step was naturally toexamine the lady. After they had been sitting for a while over theirpunch, he bethought him of his original purpose, and began to address anumber of moral remarks to his son. 

We have already given some specimens of Monsieur de Galgenstein's soberconversation; and it is hardly necessary to trouble the reader with anyfurther reports of his speeches. They were intolerably stupid and dull;as egotistical as his morning lecture had been, and a hundred timesmore rambling and prosy. If Cat had been in the possession of her sobersenses, she would have seen in five minutes that her ancient lover was aninny, and have left him with scorn; but she was under the charm of oldrecollections, and the sound of that silly voice was to her magical. As for Mr. Billings, he allowed his Excellency to continue his prattle;only frowning, yawning, cursing occasionally, but drinking continually. 

So the Count descanted at length upon the enormity of young Billings'searly liaisons; and then he told his own, in the year four, with aburgomaster's daughter at Ratisbon, when he was in the Elector ofBavaria's service--then, after Blenheim, when he had come over to theDuke of Marlborough, when a physician's wife at Bonn poisoned herselffor him, etc. Etc. ; of a piece with the story of the canoness, which hasbeen recorded before. All the tales were true. A clever, ugly man everynow and then is successful with the ladies; but a handsome fool isirresistible. Mrs. Cat listened and listened. Good heavens! shehad heard all these tales before, and recollected the place and thetime--how she was hemming a handkerchief for Max; who came round andkissed her, vowing that the physician's wife was nothing comparedto her--how he was tired, and lying on the sofa, just come home fromshooting. How handsome he looked! Cat thought he was only the handsomernow; and looked more grave and thoughtful, the dear fellow!

The garden was filled with a vast deal of company of all kinds, andparties were passing every moment before the arbour where our trio sat. About half-an-hour after his Excellency had quitted his own box andparty, the Rev. Mr. O'Flaherty came discreetly round, to examine theproceedings of his diplomatical chef. The lady in the mask was listeningwith all her might; Mr. Billings was drawing figures on the table withpunch; and the Count talking incessantly. The Father Confessor listenedfor a moment; and then, with something resembling an oath, walked awayto the entry of the gardens, where his Excellency's gilt coach, withthree footmen, was waiting to carry him back to London. "Get me a chair, Joseph, " said his Reverence, who infinitely preferred a seat gratis inthe coach. "That fool, " muttered he, "will not move for this hour. " Thereverend gentleman knew that, when the Count was on the subject of thephysician's wife, his discourses were intolerably long; and took uponhimself, therefore, to disappear, along with the rest of the Count'sparty; who procured other conveyances, and returned to their homes. 

After this quiet shadow had passed before the Count's box, many groupsof persons passed and repassed; and among them was no other than Mrs. Polly Briggs, to whom we have been already introduced. Mrs. Polly wasin company with one or two other ladies, and leaning on the arm of agentleman with large shoulders and calves, a fierce cock to his hat, and a shabby genteel air. His name was Mr. Moffat, and his presentoccupation was that of doorkeeper at a gambling-house in Covent Garden;where, though he saw many thousands pass daily under his eyes, his ownsalary amounted to no more than four-and-sixpence weekly, --a sum quiteinsufficient to maintain him in the rank which he held. 

Mr. Moffat had, however, received some funds--amounting indeed, to amatter of twelve guineas--within the last month, and was treating Mrs. Briggs very generously to the concert. It may be as well to say thatevery one of the twelve guineas had come out of Mrs. Polly's own pocket;who, in return, had received them from Mr. Billings. And as the readermay remember that, on the day of Tommy's first interview with hisfather, he had previously paid a visit to Mrs. Briggs, having underhis arm a pair of breeches, which Mrs. Briggs coveted--he should now beinformed that she desired these breeches, not for pincushions, but forMr. Moffat, who had long been in want of a pair. 

Having thus episodically narrated Mr. Moffat's history, let us statethat he, his lady, and their friends, passed before the Count's arbour, joining in a melodious chorus to a song which one of the society, anactor of Betterton's, was singing:

 "'Tis my will, when I'm dead, that no tear shall be shed, No 'Hic jacet' be graved on my stone; But pour o'er my ashes a bottle of red, And say a good fellow is gone, My brave boys! And say a good fellow is gone. "

"My brave boys" was given with vast emphasis by the party; Mr. Moffatgrowling it in a rich bass, and Mrs. Briggs in a soaring treble. As tothe notes, when quavering up to the skies, they excited various emotionsamong the people in the gardens. "Silence them blackguards!" shouted abarber, who was taking a pint of small beer along with his lady. "Stopthat there infernal screeching!" said a couple of ladies, who weresipping ratafia in company with two pretty fellows. 

"Dang it, it's Polly!" said Mr. Tom Billings, bolting out of the box, and rushing towards the sweet-voiced Mrs. Briggs. When he reached her, which he did quickly, and made his arrival known by tipping Mrs. Briggsslightly on the waist, and suddenly bouncing down before her and herfriend, both of the latter drew back somewhat startled. 

"Law, Mr. Billings!" says Mrs. Polly, rather coolly, "is it you? Whothought of seeing you here?"

"Who's this here young feller?" says towering Mr. Moffat, with his bassvoice. 

"It's Mr. Billings, cousin, a friend of mine, " said Mrs. Polly, beseechingly. 

"Oh, cousin, if it's a friend of yours, he should know better how toconduct himself, that's all. Har you a dancing-master, young feller, that you cut them there capers before gentlemen?" growled Mr. Moffat;who hated Mr. Billings, for the excellent reason that he lived upon him. 

"Dancing-master be hanged!" said Mr. Billings, with becoming spirit: "ifyou call me dancing-master, I'll pull your nose. "

"What!" roared Mr. Moffat, "pull my nose? MY NOSE! I'll tell you what, my lad, if you durst move me, I'll cut your throat, curse me!"

"Oh, Moffy--cousin, I mean--'tis a shame to treat the poor boy so. Goaway, Tommy; do go away; my cousin's in liquor, " whimpered Madam Briggs, who really thought that the great doorkeeper would put his threat intoexecution. 

"Tommy!" said Mr. Moffat, frowning horribly; "Tommy to me too? Dog, get out of my ssss---" SIGHT was the word which Mr. Moffat intended toutter; but he was interrupted; for, to the astonishment of his friendsand himself, Mr. Billings did actually make a spring at the monster'snose, and caught it so firmly, that the latter could not finish hissentence. 

The operation was performed with amazing celerity; and, having concludedit, Mr. Billings sprang back, and whisked from out its sheath that newsilver-hilted sword which his mamma had given him. "Now, " said he, witha fierce kind of calmness, "now for the throat-cutting, cousin: I'm yourman!"

How the brawl might have ended, no one can say, had the two gentlemenactually crossed swords; but Mrs. Polly, with a wonderful presence ofmind, restored peace by exclaiming, "Hush, hush! the beaks, the beaks!"Upon which, with one common instinct, the whole party made a rush forthe garden gates, and disappeared into the fields. Mrs. Briggs knew hercompany: there was something in the very name of a constable which sentthem all a-flying. 

After running a reasonable time, Mr. Billings stopped. But the greatMoffat was nowhere to be seen, and Polly Briggs had likewise vanished. Then Tom bethought him that he would go back to his mother; but, arriving at the gate of the gardens, was refused admittance, as he hadnot a shilling in his pocket. "I've left, " says Tommy, giving himselfthe airs of a gentleman, "some friends in the gardens. I'm with hisExcellency the Bavarian henvy. "

"Then you had better go away with him, " said the gate people. 

"But I tell you I left him there, in the grand circle, with a lady; and, what's more, in the dark walk, I have left a silver-hilted sword. "

"Oh, my Lord, I'll go and tell him then, " cried one of the porters, "ifyou will wait. "

Mr. Billings seated himself on a post near the gate, and there consentedto remain until the return of his messenger. The latter went straightto the dark walk, and found the sword, sure enough. But, instead ofreturning it to its owner this discourteous knight broke the trenchantblade at the hilt; and flinging the steel away, pocketed the basersilver metal, and lurked off by the private door consecrated to thewaiters and fiddlers. 

In the meantime, Mr. Billings waited and waited. And what was theconversation of his worthy parents inside the garden? I cannot say; butone of the waiters declared that he had served the great foreign Countwith two bowls of rack-punch, and some biscuits, in No. 3: that in thebox with him were first a young gentleman, who went away, and a lady, splendidly dressed and masked: that when the lady and his Lordship werealone, she edged away to the further end of the table, and they had muchtalk: that at last, when his Grace had pressed her very much, she tookoff her mask and said, "Don't you know me now, Max?" that he cried out, "My own Catherine, thou art more beautiful than ever!" and wanted tokneel down and vow eternal love to her; but she begged him not to do soin a place where all the world would see: that then his Highness paid, and they left the gardens, the lady putting on her mask again. 

When they issued from the gardens, "Ho! Joseph la Rose, my coach!"shouted his Excellency, in rather a husky voice; and the men who hadbeen waiting came up with the carriage. A young gentleman, who wasdosing on one of the posts at the entry, woke up suddenly at the blazeof the torches and the noise of the footmen. The Count gave his arm tothe lady in the mask, who slipped in; and he was whispering La Rose, when the lad who had been sleeping hit his Excellency on the shoulder, and said, "I say, Count, you can give ME a cast home too, " and jumpedinto the coach. 

When Catherine saw her son, she threw herself into his arms, and kissedhim with a burst of hysterical tears; of which Mr. Billings was at aloss to understand the meaning. The Count joined them, looking not alittle disconcerted; and the pair were landed at their own door, wherestood Mr. Hayes, in his nightcap, ready to receive them, and astoundedat the splendour of the equipage in which his wife returned to him. 

CHAPTER XI. OF SOME DOMESTIC QUARRELS, AND THE CONSEQUENCE THEREOF. 

An ingenious magazine-writer, who lived in the time of Mr. Brock and theDuke of Marlborough, compared the latter gentleman's conduct in battle, when he

 "In peaceful thought the field of death surveyed, To fainting squadrons lent the timely aid; Inspired repulsed battalions to engage, And taught the doubtful battle where to rage"--

Mr. Joseph Addison, I say, compared the Duke of Marlborough to an angel, who is sent by Divine command to chastise a guilty people--

 "And pleased his Master's orders to perform, Rides on the whirlwind, and directs the storm. "

The first four of these novel lines touch off the Duke's dispositionand genius to a tittle. He had a love for such scenes of strife: in themidst of them his spirit rose calm and supreme, soaring (like anangel or not, but anyway the compliment is a very pretty one) on thebattle-clouds majestic, and causing to ebb or to flow the mighty tide ofwar. 

But as this famous simile might apply with equal propriety--to a badangel as to a good one, it may in like manner be employed to illustratesmall quarrels as well as great--a little family squabble, in which twoor three people are engaged, as well as a vast national dispute, arguedon each side by the roaring throats of five hundred angry cannon. Thepoet means, in fact, that the Duke of Marlborough had an immense geniusfor mischief. 

Our friend Brock, or Wood (whose actions we love to illustrate by thevery handsomest similes), possessed this genius in common with hisGrace; and was never so happy, or seen to so much advantage, as when hewas employed in setting people by the ears. His spirits, usually dull, then rose into the utmost gaiety and good-humour. When the doubtfulbattle flagged, he by his art would instantly restore it. When, forinstance, Tom's repulsed battalions of rhetoric fled from his mamma'sfire, a few words of apt sneer or encouragement on Wood's part wouldbring the fight round again; or when Mr. Hayes's fainting squadrons ofabuse broke upon the stubborn squares of Tom's bristling obstinacy, itwas Wood's delight to rally the former, and bring him once more to thecharge. A great share had this man in making those bad people worse. Many fierce words and bad passions, many falsehoods and knaveries onTom's part, much bitterness, scorn, and jealousy on the part of Hayesand Catherine, might be attributed to this hoary old tempter, whosejoy and occupation it was to raise and direct the domestic storms andwhirlwinds of the family of which he was a member. And do not let us beaccused of an undue propensity to use sounding words, because we comparethree scoundrels in the Tyburn Road to so many armies, and Mr. Wood toa mighty field-marshal. My dear sir, when you have well studied theworld--how supremely great the meanest thing in this world is, and howinfinitely mean the greatest--I am mistaken if you do not make a strangeand proper jumble of the sublime and the ridiculous, the lofty and thelow. I have looked at the world, for my part, and come to the conclusionthat I know not which is which. 

Well, then, on the night when Mrs Hayes, as recorded by us, had been tothe Marylebone Gardens, Mr. Wood had found the sincerest enjoyment inplying her husband with drink; so that, when Catherine arrived at home, Mr. Hayes came forward to meet her in a manner which showed he was notonly surly, but drunk. Tom stepped out of the coach first; and Hayesasked him, with an oath, where he had been? The oath Mr. Billingssternly flung back again (with another in its company), and at the sametime refused to give his stepfather any sort of answer to his query. 

"The old man is drunk, mother, " said he to Mrs. Hayes, as he handed thatlady out of the coach (before leaving which she had to withdraw her handrather violently from the grasp of the Count, who was inside). Hayesinstantly showed the correctness of his surmise by slamming the doorcourageously in Tom's face, when he attempted to enter the house withhis mother. And when Mrs. Catherine remonstrated, according to her wont, in a very angry and supercilious tone, Mr. Hayes replied with equalhaughtiness, and a regular quarrel ensued. 

People were accustomed in those days to use much more simple andexpressive terms of language than are now thought polite; and it wouldbe dangerous to give, in this present year 1840, the exact words ofreproach which passed between Hayes and his wife in 1726. Mr. Wood satnear, laughing his sides out. Mr. Hayes swore that his wife should notgo abroad to tea-gardens in search of vile Popish noblemen; to whichMrs. Hayes replied, that Mr. Hayes was a pitiful, lying, sneaking cur, and that she would go where she pleased. Mr. Hayes rejoined that if shesaid much more he would take a stick to her. Mr. Wood whispered, "Andserve her right. " Mrs. Hayes thereupon swore she had stood his cowardlyblows once or twice before, but that if ever he did so again, as sure asshe was born, she would stab him. Mr. Wood said, "Curse me, but I likeher spirit. "

Mr. Hayes took another line of argument, and said, "The neighbours wouldtalk, madam. "

"Ay, that they will, no doubt, " said Mr. Wood. 

"Then let them, " said Catherine. "What do we care about the neighbours?Didn't the neighbours talk when you sent Widow Wilkins to gaol? Didn'tthe neighbours talk when you levied on poor old Thomson? You didn't mindTHEN, Mr. Hayes. "

"Business, ma'am, is business; and if I did distrain on Thomson, andlock up Wilkins, I think you knew about it as much as I. "

"I'faith, I believe you're a pair, " said Mr. Wood. 

"Pray, sir, keep your tongue to yourself. Your opinion isn't askedanyhow--no, nor your company wanted neither, " cried Mrs. Catherine, withproper spirit. 

At which remark Mr. Wood only whistled. 

"I have asked this here gentleman to pass this evening along with me. We've been drinking together, ma'am. "

"That we have", said Mr. Wood, looking at Mrs. Cat with the most perfectgood-humour. 

"I say, ma'am, that we've been a-drinking together; and when we've beena-drinking together, I say that a man is my friend. Doctor Wood is myfriend, madam--the Reverend Doctor Wood. We've passed the evening incompany, talking about politics, madam--politics and riddle-iddle-igion. We've not been flaunting in tea-gardens, and ogling the men. "

"It's a lie!" shrieked Mrs. Hayes. "I went with Tom--you know I did: theboy wouldn't let me rest till I promised to go. "

"Hang him, I hate him, " said Mr. Hayes: "he's always in my way. "

"He's the only friend I have in the world, and the only being I care apin for, " said Catherine. 

"He's an impudent idle good-for-nothing scoundrel, and I hope to see himhanged!" shouted Mr. Hayes. "And pray, madam, whose carriage was that asyou came home in? I warrant you paid something for the ride--ha, ha!"

"Another lie!" screamed Cat, and clutched hold of a supper-knife. "Sayit again, John Hayes, and, by ------ I'll do for you. "

"Do for me? Hang me, " said Mr. Hayes, flourishing a stick, and perfectlypot-valiant, "do you think I care for a bastard and a--?"

He did not finish the sentence, for the woman ran at him like a savage, knife in hand. He bounded back, flinging his arms about wildly, andstruck her with his staff sharply across the forehead. The woman wentdown instantly. A lucky blow was it for Hayes and her: it saved him fromdeath, perhaps, and her from murder. 

All this scene--a very important one of our drama--might have beendescribed at much greater length; but, in truth, the author has anatural horror of dwelling too long upon such hideous spectacles: norwould the reader be much edified by a full and accurate knowledge ofwhat took place. The quarrel, however, though not more violent than manythat had previously taken place between Hayes and his wife, was about tocause vast changes in the condition of this unhappy pair. 

Hayes was at the first moment of his victory very much alarmed;he feared that he had killed the woman; and Wood started up ratheranxiously too, with the same fancy. But she soon began to recover. Waterwas brought; her head was raised and bound up; and in a short timeMrs. Catherine gave vent to a copious fit of tears, which relieved hersomewhat. These did not affect Hayes much--they rather pleased him, forhe saw he had got the better; and although Cat fiercely turned upon himwhen he made some small attempt towards reconciliation, he did not heedher anger, but smiled and winked in a self-satisfied way at Wood. Thecoward was quite proud of his victory; and finding Catherine asleep, orapparently so, when he followed her to bed, speedily gave himself up toslumber too, and had some pleasant dreams to his portion. 

Mr. Wood also went sniggering and happy upstairs to his chamber. Thequarrel had been a real treat to him; it excited the old man--tickledhim into good-humour; and he promised himself a rare continuation ofthe fun when Tom should be made acquainted with the circumstances ofthe dispute. As for his Excellency the Count, the ride from MaryleboneGardens, and a tender squeeze of the hand, which Catherine permittedto him on parting, had so inflamed the passions of the nobleman, that, after sleeping for nine hours, and taking his chocolate as usual thenext morning, he actually delayed to read the newspaper, and keptwaiting a toy-shop lady from Cornhill (with the sweetest bargain ofMechlin lace), in order to discourse to his chaplain on the charms ofMrs. Hayes. 

She, poor thing, never closed her lids, except when she would have hadMr. Hayes imagine that she slumbered; but lay beside him, tossing andtumbling, with hot eyes wide open and heart thumping, and pulse of ahundred and ten, and heard the heavy hours tolling; and at last the daycame peering, haggard, through the window-curtains, and found her stillwakeful and wretched. 

Mrs. Hayes had never been, as we have seen, especially fond of herlord; but now, as the day made visible to her the sleeping figure andcountenance of that gentleman, she looked at him with a contempt andloathing such as she had never felt even in all the years of her weddedlife. Mr. Hayes was snoring profoundly: by his bedside, on his ledger, stood a large greasy tin candlestick, containing a lank tallow-candle, turned down in the shaft; and in the lower part, his keys, purse, andtobacco-pipe; his feet were huddled up in his greasy threadbare clothes;his head and half his sallow face muffled up in a red woollen nightcap;his beard was of several days' growth; his mouth was wide open, and hewas snoring profoundly: on a more despicable little creature the sunnever shone. And to this sordid wretch was Catherine united for ever. What a pretty rascal history might be read in yonder greasy day-book, which never left the miser!--he never read in any other. Of what atreasure were yonder keys and purse the keepers! not a shilling theyguarded but was picked from the pocket of necessity, plundered fromneedy wantonness, or pitilessly squeezed from starvation. "A fool, amiser, and a coward! Why was I bound to this wretch?" thought Catherine:"I, who am high-spirited and beautiful (did not HE tell me so?); Iwho, born a beggar, have raised myself to competence, and might havemounted--who knows whither?--if cursed Fortune had not baulked me!"

As Mrs. Cat did not utter these sentiments, but only thought them, wehave a right to clothe her thoughts in the genteelest possible language;and, to the best of our power, have done so. If the reader examinesMrs. Hayes's train of reasoning, he will not, we should think, failto perceive how ingeniously she managed to fix all the wrong upon herhusband, and yet to twist out some consolatory arguments for herown vanity. This perverse argumentation we have all of us, no doubt, employed in our time. How often have we, --we poets, politicians, philosophers, family-men, --found charming excuses for our ownrascalities in the monstrous wickedness of the world about us; howloudly have we abused the times and our neighbours! All this devil'slogic did Mrs. Catherine, lying wakeful in her bed on the night of theMarylebone fete, exert in gloomy triumph. 

It must, however, be confessed, that nothing could be more just thanMrs. Hayes's sense of her husband's scoundrelism and meanness; for ifwe have not proved these in the course of this history, we have provednothing. Mrs. Cat had a shrewd observing mind; and if she wanted forproofs against Hayes, she had but to look before and about her to findthem. This amiable pair were lying in a large walnut-bed, with fadedsilk furniture, which had been taken from under a respectable oldinvalid widow, who had become security for a prodigal son; the room washung round with an antique tapestry (representing Rebecca at the Well, Bathsheba Bathing, Judith and Holofernes, and other subjects from HolyWrit), which had been many score times sold for fifty pounds, and boughtback by Mr. Hayes for two, in those accommodating bargains which he madewith young gentlemen, who received fifty pounds of money and fifty oftapestry in consideration of their hundred-pound bills. Against thistapestry, and just cutting off Holofernes's head, stood an enormousominous black clock, the spoil of some other usurious transaction. Somechairs, and a dismal old black cabinet, completed the furniture of thisapartment: it wanted but a ghost to render its gloom complete. 

Mrs. Hayes sat up in the bed sternly regarding her husband. There is, be sure, a strong magnetic influence in wakeful eyes so examining asleeping person (do not you, as a boy, remember waking of bright summermornings and finding your mother looking over you? had not the gaze ofher tender eyes stolen into your senses long before you woke, and castover your slumbering spirit a sweet spell of peace, and love, and freshspringing joy?) Some such influence had Catherine's looks upon herhusband: for, as he slept under them, the man began to writhe aboutuneasily, and to burrow his head in the pillow, and to utter quick, strange moans and cries, such as have often jarred one's ear whilewatching at the bed of the feverish sleeper. It was just upon six, andpresently the clock began to utter those dismal grinding sounds, whichissue from clocks at such periods, and which sound like the death-rattleof the departing hour. Then the bell struck the knell of it; and withthis Mr. Hayes awoke, and looked up, and saw Catherine gazing at him. 

Their eyes met for an instant, and Catherine turned away, burning red, and looking as if she had been caught in the commission of a crime. 

A kind of blank terror seized upon old Hayes's soul: a horrible icyfear, and presentiment of coming evil; and yet the woman had but lookedat him. He thought rapidly over the occurrences of the last night, thequarrel, and the end of it. He had often struck her before when angry, and heaped all kinds of bitter words upon her; but, in the morning, shebore no malice, and the previous quarrel was forgotten, or, at least, passed over. Why should the last night's dispute not have the same end?Hayes calculated all this, and tried to smile. 

"I hope we're friends, Cat?" said he. "You know I was in liquor lastnight, and sadly put out by the loss of that fifty pound. They'll ruinme, dear--I know they will. "

Mrs. Hayes did not answer. 

"I should like to see the country again, dear, " said he, in his mostwheedling way. "I've a mind, do you know, to call in all our money? It'syou who've made every farthing of it, that's sure; and it's a matter oftwo thousand pound by this time. Suppose we go into Warwickshire, Cat, and buy a farm, and live genteel. Shouldn't you like to live a lady inyour own county again? How they'd stare at Birmingham! hey, Cat?"

And with this Mr. Hayes made a motion as if he would seize his wife'shand, but she flung his back again. 

"Coward!" said she, "you want liquor to give you courage, and thenyou've only heart enough to strike women. "

"It was only in self-defence, my dear, " said Hayes, whose courage hadall gone. "You tried, you know, to--to--"

"To STAB you, and I wish I had!" said Mrs. Hayes, setting her teeth, andglaring at him like a demon; and so saying she sprung out of bed. Therewas a great stain of blood on her pillow. "Look at it, " said she. "Thatblood's of your shedding!" and at this Hayes fairly began to weep, soutterly downcast and frightened was the miserable man. The wretch'stears only inspired his wife with a still greater rage and loathing; shecared not so much for the blow, but she hated the man: the man towhom she was tied for ever--for ever! The bar between her and wealth, happiness, love, rank perhaps. "If I were free, " thought Mrs. Hayes(the thought had been sitting at her pillow all night, and whisperingceaselessly into her ear)--, "If I were free, Max would marry me; I knowhe would:--he said so yesterday!"

 *****

As if by a kind of intuition, old Wood seemed to read all this woman'sthoughts; for he said that day with a sneer, that he would wager she wasthinking how much better it would be to be a Count's lady than a poormiser's wife. "And faith, " said he, "a Count and a chariot-and-six isbetter than an old skinflint with a cudgel. " And then he asked her ifher head was better, and supposed that she was used to beating; and cutsundry other jokes, which made the poor wretch's wounds of mind and bodyfeel a thousand times sorer. 

Tom, too, was made acquainted with the dispute, and swore his accustomedvengeance against his stepfather. Such feelings, Wood, with a dexterousmalice, would never let rest; it was his joy, at first quite adisinterested one, to goad Catherine and to frighten Hayes: though, intruth, that unfortunate creature had no occasion for incitements fromwithout to keep up the dreadful state of terror and depression intowhich he had fallen. 

For, from the morning after the quarrel, the horrible words and looksof Catherine never left Hayes's memory; but a cold fear followedhim--a dreadful prescience. He strove to overcome this fate as a cowardwould--to kneel to it for compassion--to coax and wheedle it intoforgiveness. He was slavishly gentle to Catherine, and bore her fiercetaunts with mean resignation. He trembled before young Billings, who wasnow established in the house (his mother said, to protect her againstthe violence of her husband), and suffered his brutal language andconduct without venturing to resist. 

The young man and his mother lorded over the house: Hayes hardly daredto speak in their presence; seldom sat with the family except at meals;but slipped away to his chamber (he slept apart now from his wife) orpassed the evening at the public-house, where he was constrained todrink--to spend some of his beloved sixpences for drink!

And, of course, the neighbours began to say, "John Hayes neglectshis wife. " "He tyrannises over her, and beats her. " "Always at thepublic-house, leaving an honest woman alone at home!"

The unfortunate wretch did NOT hate his wife. He was used to her--fondof her as much as he could be fond--sighed to be friends with heragain--repeatedly would creep, whimpering, to Wood's room, when thelatter was alone, and begged him to bring about a reconciliation. TheyWERE reconciled, as much as ever they could be. The woman looked at him, thought what she might be but for him, and scorned and loathed him witha feeling that almost amounted to insanity. What nights she lay awake, weeping, and cursing herself and him! His humility and beseeching looksonly made him more despicable and hateful to her. 

If Hayes did not hate the mother, however, he hated the boy--hated andfeared him dreadfully. He would have poisoned him if he had had thecourage; but he dared not: he dared not even look at him as he satthere, the master of the house, in insolent triumph. O God! how thelad's brutal laughter rung in Hayes's ears; and how the stare of hisfierce bold black eyes pursued him! Of a truth, if Mr. Wood lovedmischief, as he did, honestly and purely for mischief's sake, he hadenough here. There was mean malice, and fierce scorn, and black revenge, and sinful desire, boiling up in the hearts of these wretched people, enough to content Mr. Wood's great master himself. 

Hayes's business, as we have said, was nominally that of a carpenter;but since, for the last few years, he had added to it that of a lenderof money, the carpenter's trade had been neglected altogether for one somuch more profitable. Mrs. Hayes had exerted herself, with muchbenefit to her husband, in his usurious business. She was a resolute, clear-sighted, keen woman, that did not love money, but loved to be richand push her way in the world. She would have nothing to do with thetrade now, however, and told her husband to manage it himself. She feltthat she was separated from him for ever, and could no more be broughtto consider her interests as connected with his own. 

The man was well fitted for the creeping and niggling of his dastardlytrade; and gathered his moneys, and busied himself with his lawyer, andacted as his own bookkeeper and clerk, not without satisfaction. Hiswife's speculations, when they worked in concert, used often to frightenhim. He never sent out his capital without a pang, and only because hedared not question her superior judgment and will. He began now to lendno more: he could not let the money out of his sight. His sole pleasurewas to creep up into his room, and count and recount it. When Billingscame into the house, Hayes had taken a room next to that of Wood. It wasa protection to him; for Wood would often rebuke the lad for using Hayesill: and both Catherine and Tom treated the old man with deference. 

At last--it was after he had collected a good deal of his money--Hayesbegan to reason with himself, "Why should I stay?--stay to be insultedby that boy, or murdered by him? He is ready for any crime. " Hedetermined to fly. He would send Catherine money every year. No--she hadthe furniture; let her let lodgings--that would support her. He wouldgo, and live away, abroad in some cheap place--away from that boy andhis horrible threats. The idea of freedom was agreeable to the poorwretch; and he began to wind up his affairs as quickly as he could. 

Hayes would now allow no one to make his bed or enter his room; andWood could hear him through the panels fidgeting perpetually to and fro, opening and shutting of chests, and clinking of coin. At the least soundhe would start up, and would go to Billings's door and listen. Wood usedto hear him creeping through the passages, and returning stealthily tohis own chamber. 

One day the woman and her son had been angrily taunting him in thepresence of a neighbour. The neighbour retired soon; and Hayes, who hadgone with him to the door, heard, on returning, the voice of Wood in theparlour. The old man laughed in his usual saturnine way, and said, "Havea care, Mrs. Cat; for if Hayes were to die suddenly, by the laws, theneighbours would accuse thee of his death. "

Hayes started as if he had been shot. "He too is in the plot, " thoughthe. "They are all leagued against me: they WILL kill me: they are onlybiding their time. " Fear seized him, and he thought of flying thatinstant and leaving all; and he stole into his room and gathered hismoney together. But only a half of it was there: in a few weeks allwould have come in. He had not the heart to go. But that night Woodheard Hayes pause at HIS door, before he went to listen at Mrs. Catherine's. "What is the man thinking of?" said Wood. "He is gatheringhis money together. Has he a hoard yonder unknown to us all?"

Wood thought he would watch him. There was a closet between the tworooms: Wood bored a hole in the panel, and peeped through. Hayes had abrace of pistols, and four or five little bags before him on the table. One of these he opened, and placed, one by one, five-and-twenty guineasinto it. Such a sum had been due that day--Catherine spoke of it only inthe morning; for the debtor's name had by chance been mentioned in theconversation. Hayes commonly kept but a few guineas in the house. Forwhat was he amassing all these? The next day, Wood asked for changefor a twenty-pound bill. Hayes said he had but three guineas. And, whenasked by Catherine where the money was that was paid the day before, said that it was at the banker's. "The man is going to fly, " said Wood;"that is sure: if he does, I know him--he will leave his wife without ashilling. "

He watched him for several days regularly: two or three more bags wereadded to the former number. "They are pretty things, guineas, " thoughtWood, "and tell no tales, like bank-bills. " And he thought over the dayswhen he and Macshane used to ride abroad in search of them. 

I don't know what thoughts entered into Mr. Wood's brain; but the nextday, after seeing young Billings, to whom he actually made a present ofa guinea, that young man, in conversing with his mother, said, "Do youknow, mother, that if you were free, and married the Count, I should bea lord? It's the German law, Mr. Wood says; and you know he was in themcountries with Marlborough. "

"Ay, that he would, " said Mr. Wood, "in Germany: but Germany isn'tEngland; and it's no use talking of such things. "

"Hush, child!" said Mrs. Hayes, quite eagerly: "how can _I_ marry theCount? Besides, a'n't I married, and isn't he too great a lord for me?"

"Too great a lord?--not a whit, mother. If it wasn't for Hayes, I mightbe a lord now. He gave me five guineas only last week; but curse theskinflint who never will part with a shilling. "

"It's not so bad as his striking your mother, Tom. I had my stick up, and was ready to fell him t'other night, " added Mr. Wood. And herewithhe smiled, and looked steadily in Mrs. Catherine's face. She dared notlook again; but she felt that the old man knew a secret that she hadbeen trying to hide from herself. Fool! he knew it; and Hayes knew itdimly: and never, never, since that day of the gala, had it left her, sleeping or waking. When Hayes, in his fear, had proposed to sleep awayfrom her, she started with joy: she had been afraid that she might talkin her sleep, and so let slip her horrible confession. 

Old Wood knew all her history since the period of the Marylebone fete. He had wormed it out of her, day by day; he had counselled her how toact; warned her not to yield; to procure, at least, a certain provisionfor her son, and a handsome settlement for herself, if she determinedon quitting her husband. The old man looked on the business in a properphilosophical light, told her bluntly that he saw she was bent upongoing off with the Count, and bade her take precautions: else she mightbe left as she had been before. 

Catherine denied all these charges; but she saw the Count daily, notwithstanding, and took all the measures which Wood had recommended toher. They were very prudent ones. Galgenstein grew hourly more in love:never had he felt such a flame; not in the best days of his youth; notfor the fairest princess, countess, or actress, from Vienna to Paris. 

At length--it was the night after he had seen Hayes counting hismoney-bags--old Wood spoke to Mrs. Hayes very seriously. "That husbandof yours, Cat, " said he, "meditates some treason; ay, and fancies we areabout such. He listens nightly at your door and at mine: he is going toleave you, be sure on't; and if he leaves you, he leaves you to starve. "

"I can be rich elsewhere, " said Mrs. Cat. 

"What, with Max?"

"Ay, with Max: and why not?" said Mrs. Hayes. 

"Why not, fool! Do you recollect Birmingham? Do you think thatGalgenstein, who is so tender now because he HASN'T won you, will befaithful because he HAS? Psha, woman, men are not made so! Don't go tohim until you are sure: if you were a widow now, he would marry you; butnever leave yourself at his mercy: if you were to leave your husband togo to him, he would desert you in a fortnight!"

She might have been a Countess! she knew she might, but for this cursedbarrier between her and her fortune. Wood knew what she was thinking of, and smiled grimly. 

"Besides, " he continued, "remember Tom. As sure as you leave Hayeswithout some security from Max, the boy's ruined: he who might be alord, if his mother had but--Psha! never mind: that boy will go onthe road, as sure as my name's Wood. He's a Turpin cock in his eye, mydear, --a regular Tyburn look. He knows too many of that sort already;and is too fond of a bottle and a girl to resist and be honest when itcomes to the pinch. "

"It's all true, " said Mrs. Hayes. "Tom's a high mettlesome fellow, andwould no more mind a ride on Hounslow Heath than he does a walk now inthe Mall. "

"Do you want him hanged, my dear?" said Wood. 

"Ah, Doctor!"

"It IS a pity, and that's sure, " concluded Mr. Wood, knocking the ashesout of his pipe, and closing this interesting conversation. "It is apity that that old skinflint should be in the way of both your fortunes;and he about to fling you over, too!"

Mrs. Catherine retired musing, as Mr. Billings had previously done; asweet smile of contentment lighted up the venerable features of DoctorWood, and he walked abroad into the streets as happy a fellow as any inLondon. 

CHAPTER XII. TREATS OF LOVE, AND PREPARES FOR DEATH. 

And to begin this chapter, we cannot do better than quote a part ofa letter from M. L'Abbe O'Flaherty to Madame la Comtesse de X-----atParis:

"MADAM, --The little Arouet de Voltaire, who hath come 'hither to take aturn in England, ' as I see by the Post of this morning, hath brought mea charming pacquet from your Ladyship's hands, which ought to render areasonable man happy; but, alas! makes your slave miserable. I think ofdear Paris (and something more dear than all Paris, of which, Madam, I may not venture to speak further)--I think of dear Paris, and findmyself in this dismal Vitehall, where, when the fog clears up, I cancatch a glimpse of muddy Thames, and of that fatal palace which thekings of England have been obliged to exchange for your noble castle ofSaint Germains, that stands so stately by silver Seine. Truly, no badbargain. For my part, I would give my grand ambassadorial saloons, hangings, gildings, feasts, valets, ambassadors and all, for a bicoquein sight of the Thuilleries' towers, or my little cell in the Irlandois. 

"My last sheets have given you a pretty notion of our ambassador'spublic doings; now for a pretty piece of private scandal respectingthat great man. Figure to yourself, Madam, his Excellency is in love;actually in love, talking day and night about a certain fair one whom hehath picked out of a gutter; who is well nigh forty years old; who washis mistress when he was in England a captain of dragoons, some sixty, seventy, or a hundred years since; who hath had a son by him, moreover, a sprightly lad, apprentice to a tailor of eminence that has the honourof making his Excellency's breeches. 

"Since one fatal night when he met this fair creature at a certain placeof publique resort, called Marylebone Gardens, our Cyrus hath been analtered creature. Love hath mastered this brainless ambassador, and hisantics afford me food for perpetual mirth. He sits now opposite to me ata table inditing a letter to his Catherine, and copying it from--what doyou think?--from the 'Grand Cyrus. ' 'I swear, madam, that my happinesswould be to offer you this hand, as I have my heart long ago, and I begyou to bear in mind this declaration. ' I have just dictated to him theabove tender words; for our Envoy, I need not tell you, is not strong atwriting or thinking. 

"The fair Catherine, I must tell you, is no less than a carpenter'swife, a well-to-do bourgeois, living at the Tyburn, or Gallows Road. She found out her ancient lover very soon after our arrival, and hath amarvellous hankering to be a Count's lady. A pretty little creature isthis Madam Catherine. Billets, breakfasts, pretty walks, presents ofsilks and satins, pass daily between the pair; but, strange to say, the lady is as virtuous as Diana, and hath resisted all my Count'scajoleries hitherto. The poor fellow told me, with tears in his eyes, that he believed he should have carried her by storm on the very firstnight of their meeting, but that her son stepped into the way; and he orsomebody else hath been in the way ever since. Madam will never appearalone. I believe it is this wondrous chastity of the lady that haselicited this wondrous constancy of the gentleman. She is holding outfor a settlement; who knows if not for a marriage? Her husband, shesays, is ailing; her lover is fool enough, and she herself conductsher negotiations, as I must honestly own, with a pretty notion ofdiplomacy. "

 *****

This is the only part of the reverend gentleman's letter that directlyaffects this history. The rest contains some scandal concerning greaterpersonages about the Court, a great share of abuse of the Electorof Hanover, and a pretty description of a boxing-match at Mr. Figg'samphitheatre in Oxford Road, where John Wells, of Edmund Bury (as by thepapers may be seen), master of the noble science of self-defence, didengage with Edward Sutton, of Gravesend, master of the said science; andthe issue of the combat. 

"N. B. "--adds the Father, in a postscript--"Monsieur Figue gives ahat to be cudgelled for before the Master mount; and the whole ofthis fashionable information hath been given me by Monseigneur's son, Monsieur Billings, garcon-tailleur, Chevalier de Galgenstein. "

Mr. Billings was, in fact, a frequent visitor at the Ambassador's house;to whose presence he, by a general order, was always admitted. As forthe connection between Mrs. Catherine and her former admirer, theAbbe's history of it is perfectly correct; nor can it be said that thiswretched woman, whose tale now begins to wear a darker hue, was, inanything but SOUL, faithless to her husband. But she hated him, longedto leave him, and loved another: the end was coming quickly, and everyone of our unknowing actors and actresses were to be implicated, more orless, in the catastrophe. 

It will be seen that Mrs. Cat had followed pretty closely theinjunctions of Mr. Wood in regard to her dealings with the Count; whogrew more heart-stricken and tender daily, as the completion of hiswishes was delayed, and his desires goaded by contradiction. The Abbehas quoted one portion of a letter written by him; here is the entireperformance, extracted, as the holy father said, chiefly from theromance of the "Grand Cyrus". 

 "Unhappy Maximilian unto unjust Catherina. 

"MADAM, --It must needs be that I love you better than any ever did, since, notwithstanding your injustice in calling me perfidious, Ilove you no less than I did before. On the contrary, my passion is soviolent, and your unjust accusation makes me so sensible of it, thatif you did but know the resentments of my soule, you would confess yourselfe the most cruell and unjust woman in the world. You shall, erelong, Madam, see me at your feete; and as you were my first passion, soyou will be my last. 

"On my knees I will tell you, at the first handsom opportunity, thatthe grandure of my passion can only be equalled by your beauty; it hathdriven me to such a fatall necessity, as that I cannot hide the miserywhich you have caused. Sure, the hostil goddes have, to plague me, ordayned that fatal marridge, by which you are bound to one so infinitlybelow you in degree. Were that bond of ill-omind Hymen cut in twaynwitch binds you, I swear, Madam, that my happiniss woulde be to offeryou this hande, as I have my harte long agoe. And I praye you to bearein minde this declaracion, which I here sign with my hande, and witch Ipray you may one day be called upon to prove the truth on. Beleaveme, Madam, that there is none in the World who doth more honor to yourvertue than myselfe, nor who wishes your happinesse with more zealthan--MAXIMILIAN. 

"From my lodgings in Whitehall, this 25th of February. 

"To the incomparable Catherina, these, with a scarlet satten petticoat. "

The Count had debated about the sentence promising marriage in eventof Hayes's death; but the honest Abbe cut these scruples very short, bysaying, justly, that, because he wrote in that manner, there was no needfor him to act so; that he had better not sign and address the note infull; and that he presumed his Excellency was not quite so timid as tofancy that the woman would follow him all the way to Germany, when hisdiplomatic duties would be ended; as they would soon. 

The receipt of this billet caused such a flush of joy and exultation tounhappy happy Mrs. Catherine, that Wood did not fail to remark it, andspeedily learned the contents of the letter. Wood had no need to bid thepoor wretch guard it very carefully: it never from that day forth lefther; it was her title of nobility, --her pass to rank, wealth, happiness. She began to look down on her neighbours; her manner to her husband grewmore than ordinarily scornful; the poor vain wretch longed to tell hersecret, and to take her place openly in the world. She a Countess, andTom a Count's son! She felt that she should royally become the title!

About this time--and Hayes was very much frightened at the prevalenceof the rumour--it suddenly began to be about in his quarter that he wasgoing to quit the country. The story was in everybody's mouth; peopleused to sneer when he turned pale, and wept, and passionately denied it. 

It was said, too, that Mrs. Hayes was not his wife, but hismistress--everybody had this story--his mistress, whom he treated mostcruelly, and was about to desert. The tale of the blow which had felledher to the ground was known in all quarters. When he declared that thewoman tried to stab him, nobody believed him: the women said he wouldhave been served right if she had done so. How had these stories goneabroad? "Three days more, and I WILL fly, " thought Hayes; "and the worldmay say what it pleases. "

Ay, fool, fly--away so swiftly that Fate cannot overtake thee: hide socunningly that Death shall not find thy place of refuge!

CHAPTER XIII. BEING A PREPARATION FOR THE END. 

The reader, doubtless, doth now partly understand what dark acts ofconspiracy are beginning to gather around Mr. Hayes; and possibly hathcomprehended--

1. That if the rumour was universally credited which declared that Mrs. Catherine was only Hayes's mistress, and not his wife, She might, if she so inclined, marry another person; and therebynot injure her fame and excite wonderment, but actually add to herreputation. 

2. That if all the world did steadfastly believe that Mr. Hayes intendedto desert this woman, after having cruelly maltreated her, The direction which his journey might take would be of no consequence;and he might go to Highgate, to Edinburgh, to Constantinople, nay, downa well, and no soul would care to ask whither he had gone. 

These points Mr. Hayes had not considered duly. The latter case had beenput to him, and annoyed him, as we have seen; the former had actuallybeen pressed upon him by Mrs. Hayes herself; who, in almost the onlycommunication she had had with him since their last quarrel, had askedhim, angrily, in the presence of Wood and her son, whether he had daredto utter such lies, and how it came to pass that the neighbours lookedscornfully at her, and avoided her?

To this charge Mr. Hayes pleaded, very meekly, that he was not guilty;and young Billings, taking him by the collar, and clinching his fist inhis face, swore a dreadful oath that he would have the life of him ifhe dared abuse his mother. Mrs. Hayes then spoke of the general reportabroad, that he was going to desert her; which, if he attempted to do, Mr. Billings vowed that he would follow him to Jerusalem and have hisblood. These threats, and the insolent language of young Billings, rather calmed Hayes than agitated him: he longed to be on his journey;but he began to hope that no obstacle would be placed in the way ofit. For the first time since many days, he began to enjoy a feelingsomething akin to security, and could look with tolerable confidencetowards a comfortable completion of his own schemes of treason. 

These points being duly settled, we are now arrived, O public, at apoint for which the author's soul hath been yearning ever since thishistory commenced. We are now come, O critic, to a stage of the workwhen this tale begins to assume an appearance so interestingly horrific, that you must have a heart of stone if you are not interested by it. O candid and discerning reader, who art sick of the hideous scenes ofbrutal bloodshed which have of late come forth from pens of certaineminent wits, [*] if you turn away disgusted from the book, remember thatthis passage hath not been written for you, or such as you, who havetaste to know and hate the style in which it hath been composed; butfor the public, which hath no such taste:--for the public, which canpatronise four different representations of Jack Sheppard, --for thepublic whom its literary providers have gorged with blood and foulNewgate garbage, --and to whom we poor creatures, humbly following atthe tail of our great high-priests and prophets of the press, may, as induty bound, offer some small gift of our own: a little mite truly, but given with good-will. Come up, then, fair Catherine and braveCount;--appear, gallant Brock, and faultless Billings;--hasten hither, honest John Hayes: the former chapters are but flowers in which we havebeen decking you for the sacrifice. Ascend to the altar, ye innocentlambs, and prepare for the final act: lo! the knife is sharpened, andthe sacrificer ready! Stretch your throats, sweet ones, --for the publicis thirsty, and must have blood!

 * This was written in 1840. 

CHAPTER THE LAST. 

That Mr. Hayes had some notion of the attachment of Monsieur deGalgenstein for his wife is very certain: the man could not but perceivethat she was more gaily dressed, and more frequently absent than usual;and must have been quite aware that from the day of the quarrel untilthe present period, Catherine had never asked him for a shilling for thehouse expenses. He had not the heart to offer, however; nor, in truth, did she seem to remember that money was due. 

She received, in fact, many sums from the tender Count. Tom was likewiseliberally provided by the same personage; who was, moreover, continuallysending presents of various kinds to the person on whom his affectionswere centred. 

One of these gifts was a hamper of choice mountain-wine, which had beensome weeks in the house, and excited the longing of Mr. Hayes, who lovedwine very much. This liquor was generally drunk by Wood and Billings, who applauded it greatly; and many times, in passing through theback-parlour, --which he had to traverse in order to reach the stair, Hayes had cast a tender eye towards the drink; of which, had he dared, he would have partaken. 

On the 1st of March, in the year 1726, Mr. Hayes had gathered togetheralmost the whole sum with which he intended to decamp; and having onthat very day recovered the amount of a bill which he thought almosthopeless, he returned home in tolerable good-humour; and feeling, sonear was his period of departure, something like security. Nobody hadattempted the least violence on him: besides, he was armed with pistols, had his money in bills in a belt about his person, and really reasonedwith himself that there was no danger for him to apprehend. 

He entered the house about dusk, at five o'clock. Mrs. Hayes was absentwith Mr. Billings; only Mr. Wood was smoking, according to his wont, in the little back-parlour; and as Mr. Hayes passed, the old gentlemanaddressed him in a friendly voice, and, wondering that he had been sucha stranger, invited him to sit and take a glass of wine. There was alight and a foreman in the shop; Mr. Hayes gave his injunctions to thatperson, and saw no objection to Mr. Wood's invitation. 

The conversation, at first a little stiff between the two gentlemen, began speedily to grow more easy and confidential: and so particularlybland and good-humoured was Mr. , or Doctor Wood, that his companionwas quite caught, and softened by the charm of his manner; and the pairbecame as good friends as in the former days of their intercourse. 

"I wish you would come down sometimes of evenings, " quoth Doctor Wood;"for, though no book-learned man, Mr. Hayes, look you, you are a manof the world, and I can't abide the society of boys. There's Tom, now, since this tiff with Mrs. Cat, the scoundrel plays the Grank Turk here!The pair of 'em, betwixt them, have completely gotten the upper hand ofyou. Confess that you are beaten, Master Hayes, and don't like the boy?"

"No more I do, " said Hayes; "and that's the truth on't. A man doth notlike to have his wife's sins flung in his face, nor to be perpetuallybullied in his own house by such a fiery sprig as that. "

"Mischief, sir, --mischief only, " said Wood: "'tis the fun of youth, sir, and will go off as age comes to the lad. Bad as you may think him--andhe is as skittish and fierce, sure enough, as a young colt---there isgood stuff in him; and though he hath, or fancies he hath, the right toabuse every one, by the Lord he will let none others do so! Last week, now, didn't he tell Mrs. Cat that you served her right in the lastbeating matter? and weren't they coming to knives, just as in your case?By my faith, they were. Ay, and at the "Braund's Head, " when some fellowsaid that you were a bloody Bluebeard, and would murder your wife, stab me if Tom wasn't up in an instant and knocked the fellow down forabusing of you!"

The first of these stories was quite true; the second was only acharitable invention of Mr. Wood, and employed, doubtless, for theamiable purpose of bringing the old and young men together. The schemepartially succeeded; for, though Hayes was not so far mollified towardsTom as to entertain any affection for a young man whom he had cordiallydetested ever since he knew him, yet he felt more at ease and cheerfulregarding himself: and surely not without reason. While indulging inthese benevolent sentiments, Mrs. Catherine and her son arrived, and found, somewhat to their astonishment, Mr. Hayes seated in theback-parlour, as in former times; and they were invited by Mr. Wood tosit down and drink. 

We have said that certain bottles of mountain-wine were presented by theCount to Mrs. Catherine: these were, at Mr. Wood's suggestion, produced;and Hayes, who had long been coveting them, was charmed to have anopportunity to drink his fill. He forthwith began bragging of hisgreat powers as a drinker, and vowed that he could manage eight bottleswithout becoming intoxicated. 

Mr. Wood grinned strangely, and looked in a peculiar way at TomBillings, who grinned too. Mrs. Cat's eyes were turned towards theground: but her face was deadly pale. 

The party began drinking. Hayes kept up his reputation as a toper, andswallowed one, two, three bottles without wincing. He grew talkative andmerry, and began to sing songs and to cut jokes; at which Wood laughedhugely, and Billings after him. Mrs. Cat could not laugh; but satsilent. 

What ailed her? Was she thinking of the Count? She had been with Maxthat day, and had promised him, for the next night at ten, an interviewnear his lodgings at Whitehall. It was the first time that she wouldsee him alone. They were to meet (not a very cheerful place for alove-tryst) at St. Margaret's churchyard, near Westminster Abbey. Ofthis, no doubt, Cat was thinking; but what could she mean by whisperingto Wood, "No, no! for God's sake, not tonight!"

"She means we are to have no more liquor, " said Wood to Mr. Hayes; whoheard this sentence, and seemed rather alarmed. 

"That's it, --no more liquor, " said Catherine eagerly; "you have hadenough to-night. Go to bed, and lock your door, and sleep, Mr. Hayes. "

"But I say I've NOT had enough drink!" screamed Hayes; "I'm good forfive bottles more, and wager I will drink them too. "

"Done, for a guinea!" said Wood. 

"Done, and done!" said Billings. 

"Be YOU quiet!" growled Hayes, scowling at the lad. "I will drink whatI please, and ask no counsel of yours. " And he muttered some more cursesagainst young Billings, which showed what his feelings were towards hiswife's son; and which the latter, for a wonder, only received with ascornful smile, and a knowing look at Wood. 

Well! the five extra bottles were brought, and drunk by Mr. Hayes;and seasoned by many songs from the recueil of Mr. Thomas d'Urfey andothers. The chief part of the talk and merriment was on Hayes's part;as, indeed, was natural, --for, while he drank bottle after bottle ofwine, the other two gentlemen confined themselves to small beer, --bothpleading illness as an excuse for their sobriety. 

And now might we depict, with much accuracy, the course of Mr. Hayes'sintoxication, as it rose from the merriment of the three-bottle pointto the madness of the four--from the uproarious quarrelsomeness of thesixth bottle to the sickly stupidity of the seventh; but we aredesirous of bringing this tale to a conclusion, and must pretermitall consideration of a subject so curious, so instructive, and sodelightful. Suffice it to say, as a matter of history, that Mr. Hayesdid actually drink seven bottles of mountain-wine; and that Mr. ThomasBillings went to the "Braund's Head, " in Bond Street, and purchasedanother, which Hayes likewise drank. 

"That'll do, " said Mr. Wood to young Billings; and they led Hayes up tobed, whither, in truth, he was unable to walk himself. 

 *****

Mrs. Springatt, the lodger, came down to ask what the noise was. "'Tisonly Tom Billings making merry with some friends from the country, "answered Mrs. Hayes; whereupon Springatt retired, and the house wasquiet. 

 *****

Some scuffling and stamping was heard about eleven o'clock. 

 *****

After they had seen Mr. Hayes to bed, Billings remembered that he had aparcel to carry to some person in the neighbourhood of the Strand;and, as the night was remarkably fine, he and Mr. Wood agreed to walktogether, and set forth accordingly. 

(Here follows a description of the THAMES AT MIDNIGHT, in a finehistorical style; with an account of Lambeth, Westminster, the Savoy, Baynard's Castle, Arundel House, the Temple; of Old London Bridge, with its twenty arches, "on which be houses builded, so that it seemethrather a continuall street than a bridge;"--of Bankside, and the "Globe"and the "Fortune" Theatres; of the ferries across the river, and of thepirates who infest the same--namely, tinklermen, petermen, hebbermen, trawlermen; of the fleet of barges that lay at the Savoy steps; and ofthe long lines of slim wherries sleeping on the river banks and baskingand shining in the moonbeams. A combat on the river is described, that takes place between the crews of a tinklerman's boat and thewater-bailiffs. Shouting his war-cry, "St. Mary Overy a la rescousse!"the water-bailiff sprung at the throat of the tinklerman captain. Thecrews of both vessels, as if aware that the struggle of their chiefswould decide the contest, ceased hostilities, and awaited on theirrespective poops the issue of the death-shock. It was not longcoming. "Yield, dog!" said the water-bailiff. The tinklerman could notanswer--for his throat was grasped too tight in the iron clench of thecity champion; but drawing his snickersnee, he plunged it seven times inthe bailiff's chest: still the latter fell not. The death-rattle gurgledin the throat of his opponent; his arms fell heavily to his side. Foot to foot, each standing at the side of his boat, stood the bravemen--THEY WERE BOTH DEAD! "In the name of St. Clement Danes, " said themaster, "give way, my men!" and, thrusting forward his halberd (sevenfeet long, richly decorated with velvet and brass nails, and havingthe city arms, argent, a cross gules, and in the first quarter a daggerdisplayed of the second), he thrust the tinklerman's boat away from hisown; and at once the bodies of the captains plunged down, down, down, down in the unfathomable waters. 

After this follows another episode. Two masked ladies quarrel at thedoor of a tavern overlooking the Thames: they turn out to be Stella andVanessa, who have followed Swift thither; who is in the act of reading"Gulliver's Travels" to Gay, Arbuthnot, Bolingbroke, and Pope. Twofellows are sitting shuddering under a doorway; to one of them TomBillings flung a sixpence. He little knew that the names of those twoyoung men were--Samuel Johnson and Richard Savage. )

ANOTHER LAST CHAPTER. 

Mr. Hayes did not join the family the next day; and it appears thatthe previous night's reconciliation was not very durable; for when Mrs. Springatt asked Wood for Hayes, Mr. Wood stated that Hayes had gone awaywithout saying whither he was bound, or how long he might be absent. He only said, in rather a sulky tone, that he should probably pass thenight at a friend's house. "For my part, I know of no friend he hath, "added Mr. Wood; "and pray Heaven that he may not think of deserting hispoor wife, whom he hath beaten and ill-used so already!" In this prayerMrs. Springatt joined; and so these two worthy people parted. 

What business Billings was about cannot be said; but he was this nightbound towards Marylebone Fields, as he was the night before for theStrand and Westminster; and, although the night was very stormy andrainy, as the previous evening had been fine, old Wood good-naturedlyresolved upon accompanying him; and forth they sallied together. 

Mrs. Catherine, too, had HER business, as we have seen; but this was ofa very delicate nature. At nine o'clock, she had an appointment withthe Count; and faithfully, by that hour, had found her way to SaintMargaret's churchyard, near Westminster Abbey, where she awaitedMonsieur de Galgenstein. 

The spot was convenient, being very lonely, and at the same time closeto the Count's lodgings at Whitehall. His Excellency came, but somewhatafter the hour; for, to say the truth, being a freethinker, he hadthe most firm belief in ghosts and demons, and did not care to pacea churchyard alone. He was comforted, therefore, when he saw a womanmuffled in a cloak, who held out her hand to him at the gate, and said, "Is that you?" He took her hand, --it was very clammy and cold; and ather desire he bade his confidential footman, who had attended him with atorch, to retire, and leave him to himself. 

The torch-bearer retired, and left them quite in darkness; and the pairentered the little cemetery, cautiously threading their way among thetombs. They sat down on one, underneath a tree it seemed to be; the windwas very cold, and its piteous howling was the only noise that brokethe silence of the place. Catherine's teeth were chattering, for all herwraps; and when Max drew her close to him, and encircled her waist withone arm, and pressed her hand, she did not repulse him, but rathercame close to him, and with her own damp fingers feebly returned hispressure. 

The poor thing was very wretched and weeping. She confided to Max thecause of her grief. She was alone in the world, --alone and penniless. Her husband had left her; she had that very day received a letter fromhim which confirmed all that she had suspected so long. He had left her, carried away all his property, and would not return!

If we say that a selfish joy filled the breast of Monsieur deGalgenstein, the reader will not be astonished. A heartless libertine, he felt glad at the prospect of Catherine's ruin; for he hoped thatnecessity would make her his own. He clasped the poor thing to hisheart, and vowed that he would replace the husband she had lost, andthat his fortune should be hers. 

"Will you replace him?" said she. 

"Yes, truly, in everything but the name, dear Catherine; and when hedies, I swear you shall be Countess of Galgenstein. "

"Will you swear?" she cried, eagerly. 

"By everything that is most sacred: were you free now, I would" (andhere he swore a terrific oath) "at once make you mine. "

We have seen before that it cost Monsieur de Galgenstein nothing tomake these vows. Hayes was likely, too, to live as long as Catherine--aslong, at least, as the Count's connection with her; but he was caught inhis own snare. 

She took his hand and kissed it repeatedly, and bathed it in her tears, and pressed it to her bosom. "Max, " she said, "I AM FREE! Be mine, and Iwill love you as I have done for years and years. "

Max started back. "What, is he dead?" he said. 

"No, no, not dead: but he never was my husband. "

He let go her hand, and, interrupting her, said sharply, "Indeed, madam, if this carpenter never was your husband, I see no cause why _I_should be. If a lady, who hath been for twenty years the mistress of amiserable country boor, cannot find it in her heart to put up with theprotection of a nobleman--a sovereign's representative--she may seek ahusband elsewhere!"

"I was no man's mistress except yours, " sobbed Catherine, wringing herhands and sobbing wildly; "but, O Heaven! I deserved this. Because I wasa child, and you saw, and ruined, and left me--because, in my sorrow andrepentance, I wished to repair my crime, and was touched by that man'slove, and married him--because he too deceives and leaves me--because, after loving you--madly loving you for twenty years--I will not nowforfeit your respect, and degrade myself by yielding to your will, youtoo must scorn me! It is too much--too much--O Heaven!" And the wretchedwoman fell back almost fainting. 

Max was almost frightened by this burst of sorrow on her part, and wascoming forward to support her; but she motioned him away, and, takingfrom her bosom a letter, said, "If it were light, you could see, Max, how cruelly I have been betrayed by that man who called himself myhusband. Long before he married me, he was married to another. Thiswoman is still living, he says; and he says he leaves me for ever. "

At this moment the moon, which had been hidden behind Westminster Abbey, rose above the vast black mass of that edifice, and poured a flood ofsilver light upon the little church of St. Margaret's, and the spotwhere the lovers stood. Max was at a little distance from Catherine, pacing gloomily up and down the flags. She remained at her old positionat the tombstone under the tree, or pillar, as it seemed to be, as themoon got up. She was leaning against the pillar, and holding out to Max, with an arm beautifully white and rounded, the letter she had receivedfrom her husband: "Read it, Max, " she said: "I asked for light, and hereis Heaven's own, by which you may read. "

But Max did not come forward to receive it. On a sudden his face assumeda look of the most dreadful surprise and agony. He stood still, andstared with wild eyes starting from their sockets; he stared upwards, at a point seemingly above Catherine's head. At last he raised up hisfinger slowly and said, "Look, Cat--THE HEAD--THE HEAD!" Then uttering ahorrible laugh, he fell down grovelling among the stones, gibbering andwrithing in a fit of epilepsy. 

Catherine started forward and looked up. She had been standing against apost, not a tree--the moon was shining full on it now; and on the summitstrangely distinct, and smiling ghastly, was a livid human head. 

The wretched woman fled--she dared look no more. And some hoursafterwards, when, alarmed by the Count's continued absence, hisconfidential servant came back to seek for him in the churchyard, he wasfound sitting on the flags, staring full at the head, and laughing, and talking to it wildly, and nodding at it. He was taken up a hopelessidiot, and so lived for years and years; clanking the chain, and moaningunder the lash, and howling through long nights when the moon peeredthrough the bars of his solitary cell, and he buried his face in thestraw. 

 *****

There--the murder is out! And having indulged himself in a chapter ofthe very finest writing, the author begs the attention of the Britishpublic towards it; humbly conceiving that it possesses some of thosepeculiar merits which have rendered the fine writing in other chaptersof the works of other authors so famous. 

Without bragging at all, let us just point out the chief claims of theabove pleasing piece of composition. In the first place, it is perfectlystilted and unnatural; the dialogue and the sentiments being artfullyarranged, so as to be as strong and majestic as possible. Our dear Catis but a poor illiterate country wench, who has come from cutting herhusband's throat; and yet, see! she talks and looks like a tragedyprincess, who is suffering in the most virtuous blank verse. This is theproper end of fiction, and one of the greatest triumphs that a novelistcan achieve: for to make people sympathise with virtue is a vulgar trickthat any common fellow can do; but it is not everybody who can take ascoundrel, and cause us to weep and whimper over him as though he werea very saint. Give a young lady of five years old a skein of silk anda brace of netting-needles, and she will in a short time turn you outa decent silk purse--anybody can; but try her with a sow's ear, and seewhether she can make a silk purse out of THAT. That is the work for yourreal great artist; and pleasant it is to see how many have succeeded inthese latter days. 

The subject is strictly historical, as anyone may see by referring tothe Daily Post of March 3, 1726, which contains the following paragraph:

"Yesterday morning, early, a man's head, that by the freshness of itseemed to have been newly cut off from the body, having its own hairon, was found by the river's side, near Millbank, Westminster, and wasafterwards exposed to public view in St. Margaret's churchyard, wherethousands of people have seen it; but none could tell who the unhappyperson was, much less who committed such a horrid and barbarous action. There are various conjectures relating to the deceased; but there beingnothing certain, we omit them. The head was much hacked and mangled inthe cutting off. "

The head which caused such an impression upon Monsieur de Galgensteinwas, indeed, once on the shoulders of Mr. John Hayes, who lost it underthe following circumstances. We have seen how Mr. Hayes was inducedto drink. Mr. Hayes having been encouraged in drinking the wine, andgrowing very merry therewith, he sang and danced about the room; but hiswife, fearing the quantity he had drunk would not have the wished-foreffect on him, she sent away for another bottle, of which he drankalso. This effectually answered their expectations; and Mr. Hayes becamethereby intoxicated, and deprived of his understanding. 

He, however, made shift to get into the other room, and, throwinghimself upon the bed, fell asleep; upon which Mrs. Hayes reminded themof the affair in hand, and told them that was the most proper junctureto finish the business. [*]

 *****

 * The description of the murder and the execution of the culprits, which here follows in the original, was taken from the newspapers of the day. Coming from such a source they have, as may be imagined, no literary merit whatever. The details of the crime are simply horrible, without one touch of even that sort of romance which sometimes gives a little dignity to murder. As such they precisely suited Mr. Thackeray's purpose at the time--which was to show the real manners and customs of the Sheppards and Turpins who were then the popular heroes of fiction. But nowadays there is no such purpose to serve, and therefore these too literal details are omitted. 

 *****

Ring, ding, ding! the gloomy green curtain drops, the dramatis personaeare duly disposed of, the nimble candle snuffers put out the lights, andthe audience goeth pondering home. If the critic take the pains to askwhy the author, who hath been so diffuse in describing the early andfabulous acts of Mrs. Catherine's existence, should so hurry off thecatastrophe where a deal of the very finest writing might have beenemployed, Solomons replies that the "ordinary" narrative is farmore emphatic than any composition of his own could be, with all therhetorical graces which he might employ. Mr. Aram's trial, as taken bythe penny-a-liners of those days, had always interested him more thanthe lengthened and poetical report which an eminent novelist has givenof the same. Mr. Turpin's adventures are more instructive and agreeableto him in the account of the Newgate Plutarch, than in the learnedAinsworth's Biographical Dictionary. And as he believes that theprofessional gentlemen who are employed to invest such heroes with therewards that their great actions merit, will go through the ceremony ofthe grand cordon with much more accuracy and despatch than can be shownby the most distinguished amateur; in like manner he thinks that thehistory of such investitures should be written by people directlyconcerned, and not by admiring persons without, who must be ignorant ofmany of the secrets of Ketchcraft. We very much doubt if Milton himselfcould make a description of an execution half so horrible as the simplelines in the Daily Post of a hundred and ten years since, that now liesbefore us--"herrlich wie am ersten Tag, "--as bright and clean as onthe day of publication. Think of it! it has been read by Belinda at hertoilet, scanned at "Button's" and "Will's, " sneered at by wits, talkedof in palaces and cottages, by a busy race in wigs, red heels, hoops, patches, and rags of all variety--a busy race that hath long sinceplunged and vanished in the unfathomable gulf towards which we march sobriskly. 

Where are they? "Afflavit Deus"--and they are gone! Hark! is not thesame wind roaring still that shall sweep us down? and yonder stands thecompositor at his types who shall put up a pretty paragraph some day tosay how, "Yesterday, at his house in Grosvenor Square, " or "At BotanyBay, universally regretted, " died So-and-So. Into what profoundmoralities is the paragraph concerning Mrs. Catherine's burning leadingus!

Ay, truly, and to that very point have we wished to come; for, havingfinished our delectable meal, it behoves us to say a word or two by wayof grace at its conclusion, and be heartily thankful that it is over. Ithas been the writer's object carefully to exclude from his drama (exceptin two very insignificant instances--mere walking-gentlemen parts), anycharacters but those of scoundrels of the very highest degree. That hehas not altogether failed in the object he had in view, is evident fromsome newspaper critiques which he has had the good fortune to see; andwhich abuse the tale of "Catherine" as one of the dullest, most vulgar, and immoral works extant. It is highly gratifying to the author to findthat such opinions are abroad, as they convince him that the taste forNewgate literature is on the wane, and that when the public critic hasright down undisguised immorality set before him, the honest creature isshocked at it, as he should be, and can declare his indignation in goodround terms of abuse. The characters of the tale ARE immoral, and nodoubt of it; but the writer humbly hopes the end is not so. The publicwas, in our notion, dosed and poisoned by the prevailing style ofliterary practice, and it was necessary to administer some medicinethat would produce a wholesome nausea, and afterwards bring about a morehealthy habit. 

And, thank Heaven, this effect HAS been produced in very many instances, and that the "Catherine" cathartic has acted most efficaciously. Theauthor has been pleased at the disgust which his work has excited, andhas watched with benevolent carefulness the wry faces that have beenmade by many of the patients who have swallowed the dose. Solomonsremembers, at the establishment in Birchin Lane where he had the honourof receiving his education, there used to be administered to the boys acertain cough-medicine, which was so excessively agreeable that all thelads longed to have colds in order to partake of the remedy. Some of ourpopular novelists have compounded their drugs in a similar way, andmade them so palatable that a public, once healthy and honest, has beenwell-nigh poisoned by their wares. Solomons defies anyone to say thelike of himself--that his doses have been as pleasant as champagne, andhis pills as sweet as barley-sugar;--it has been his attempt to makevice to appear entirely vicious; and in those instances where he hathoccasionally introduced something like virtue, to make the sham asevident as possible, and not allow the meanest capacity a single chanceto mistake it. 

And what has been the consequence? That wholesome nausea which it hasbeen his good fortune to create wherever he has been allowed to practisein his humble circle. 

Has anyone thrown away a halfpennyworth of sympathy upon any personmentioned in this history? Surely no. But abler and more famous men thanSolomons have taken a different plan; and it becomes every man in hisvocation to cry out against such, and expose their errors as best hemay. 

Labouring under such ideas, Mr. Isaac Solomons, junior, produced theromance of Mrs. Cat, and confesses himself completely happy to havebrought it to a conclusion. His poem may be dull--ay, and probablyis. The great Blackmore, the great Dennis, the great Sprat, the greatPomfret, not to mention great men of our own time--have they not alsobeen dull, and had pretty reputations too? Be it granted Solomons ISdull; but don't attack his morality; he humbly submits that, in hispoem, no man shall mistake virtue for vice, no man shall allow a singlesentiment of pity or admiration to enter his bosom for any character ofthe piece: it being, from beginning to end, a scene of unmixed rascalityperformed by persons who never deviate into good feeling. And althoughhe doth not pretend to equal the great modern authors, whom he hathmentioned, in wit or descriptive power; yet, in the point of moral, hemeekly believes that he has been their superior; feeling the greatestdisgust for the characters he describes, and using his humble endeavourto cause the public also to hate them. 

Horsemonger Lane: January 1840.