SKETCHES BY BOZ

OUR PARISH

CHAPTER I--THE BEADLE. THE PARISH ENGINE. THE SCHOOLMASTER

How much is conveyed in those two short words--'The Parish!' Andwith how many tales of distress and misery, of broken fortune andruined hopes, too often of unrelieved wretchedness and successfulknavery, are they associated! A poor man, with small earnings, anda large family, just manages to live on from hand to mouth, and toprocure food from day to day; he has barely sufficient to satisfythe present cravings of nature, and can take no heed of the future. His taxes are in arrear, quarter-day passes by, another quarter-dayarrives: he can procure no more quarter for himself, and issummoned by--the parish. His goods are distrained, his childrenare crying with cold and hunger, and the very bed on which his sickwife is lying, is dragged from beneath her. What can he do? Towhom is he to apply for relief? To private charity? To benevolentindividuals? Certainly not--there is his parish. There are theparish vestry, the parish infirmary, the parish surgeon, the parishofficers, the parish beadle. Excellent institutions, and gentle, kind-hearted men. The woman dies--she is buried by the parish. The children have no protector--they are taken care of by theparish. The man first neglects, and afterwards cannot obtain, work--he is relieved by the parish; and when distress anddrunkenness have done their work upon him, he is maintained, aharmless babbling idiot, in the parish asylum. 

The parish beadle is one of the most, perhaps THE most, importantmember of the local administration. He is not so well off as thechurchwardens, certainly, nor is he so learned as the vestry-clerk, nor does he order things quite so much his own way as either ofthem. But his power is very great, notwithstanding; and thedignity of his office is never impaired by the absence of effortson his part to maintain it. The beadle of our parish is a splendidfellow. It is quite delightful to hear him, as he explains thestate of the existing poor laws to the deaf old women in the board-room passage on business nights; and to hear what he said to thesenior churchwarden, and what the senior churchwarden said to him;and what 'we' (the beadle and the other gentlemen) came to thedetermination of doing. A miserable-looking woman is called intothe boardroom, and represents a case of extreme destitution, affecting herself--a widow, with six small children. 'Where do youlive?' inquires one of the overseers. 'I rents a two-pair back, gentlemen, at Mrs. Brown's, Number 3, Little King William's-alley, which has lived there this fifteen year, and knows me to be veryhard-working and industrious, and when my poor husband was alive, gentlemen, as died in the hospital'--'Well, well, ' interrupts theoverseer, taking a note of the address, 'I'll send Simmons, thebeadle, to-morrow morning, to ascertain whether your story iscorrect; and if so, I suppose you must have an order into theHouse--Simmons, go to this woman's the first thing to-morrowmorning, will you?' Simmons bows assent, and ushers the woman out. Her previous admiration of 'the board' (who all sit behind greatbooks, and with their hats on) fades into nothing before herrespect for her lace-trimmed conductor; and her account of what haspassed inside, increases--if that be possible--the marks ofrespect, shown by the assembled crowd, to that solemn functionary. As to taking out a summons, it's quite a hopeless case if Simmonsattends it, on behalf of the parish. He knows all the titles ofthe Lord Mayor by heart; states the case without a single stammer:and it is even reported that on one occasion he ventured to make ajoke, which the Lord Mayor's head footman (who happened to bepresent) afterwards told an intimate friend, confidentially, wasalmost equal to one of Mr. Hobler's. 

See him again on Sunday in his state-coat and cocked-hat, with alarge-headed staff for show in his left hand, and a small cane foruse in his right. How pompously he marshals the children intotheir places! and how demurely the little urchins look at himaskance as he surveys them when they are all seated, with a glareof the eye peculiar to beadles! The churchwardens and overseersbeing duly installed in their curtained pews, he seats himself on amahogany bracket, erected expressly for him at the top of theaisle, and divides his attention between his prayer-book and theboys. Suddenly, just at the commencement of the communion service, when the whole congregation is hushed into a profound silence, broken only by the voice of the officiating clergyman, a penny isheard to ring on the stone floor of the aisle with astoundingclearness. Observe the generalship of the beadle. His involuntarylook of horror is instantly changed into one of perfectindifference, as if he were the only person present who had notheard the noise. The artifice succeeds. After putting forth hisright leg now and then, as a feeler, the victim who dropped themoney ventures to make one or two distinct dives after it; and thebeadle, gliding softly round, salutes his little round head, whenit again appears above the seat, with divers double knocks, administered with the cane before noticed, to the intense delightof three young men in an adjacent pew, who cough violently atintervals until the conclusion of the sermon. 

Such are a few traits of the importance and gravity of a parishbeadle--a gravity which has never been disturbed in any case thathas come under our observation, except when the services of thatparticularly useful machine, a parish fire-engine, are required:then indeed all is bustle. Two little boys run to the beadle asfast as their legs will carry them, and report from their ownpersonal observation that some neighbouring chimney is on fire; theengine is hastily got out, and a plentiful supply of boys beingobtained, and harnessed to it with ropes, away they rattle over thepavement, the beadle, running--we do not exaggerate--running at theside, until they arrive at some house, smelling strongly of soot, at the door of which the beadle knocks with considerable gravityfor half-an-hour. No attention being paid to these manualapplications, and the turn-cock having turned on the water, theengine turns off amidst the shouts of the boys; it pulls up oncemore at the work-house, and the beadle 'pulls up' the unfortunatehouseholder next day, for the amount of his legal reward. We neversaw a parish engine at a regular fire but once. It came up ingallant style--three miles and a half an hour, at least; there wasa capital supply of water, and it was first on the spot. Bang wentthe pumps--the people cheered--the beadle perspired profusely; butit was unfortunately discovered, just as they were going to put thefire out, that nobody understood the process by which the enginewas filled with water; and that eighteen boys, and a man, hadexhausted themselves in pumping for twenty minutes, withoutproducing the slightest effect!

The personages next in importance to the beadle, are the master ofthe workhouse and the parish schoolmaster. The vestry-clerk, aseverybody knows, is a short, pudgy little man, in black, with athick gold watch-chain of considerable length, terminating in twolarge seals and a key. He is an attorney, and generally in abustle; at no time more so, than when he is hurrying to someparochial meeting, with his gloves crumpled up in one hand, and alarge red book under the other arm. As to the churchwardens andoverseers, we exclude them altogether, because all we know of themis, that they are usually respectable tradesmen, who wear hats withbrims inclined to flatness, and who occasionally testify in giltletters on a blue ground, in some conspicuous part of the church, to the important fact of a gallery having being enlarged andbeautified, or an organ rebuilt. 

The master of the workhouse is not, in our parish--nor is heusually in any other--one of that class of men the better part ofwhose existence has passed away, and who drag out the remainder insome inferior situation, with just enough thought of the past, tofeel degraded by, and discontented with the present. We are unableto guess precisely to our own satisfaction what station the man canhave occupied before; we should think he had been an inferior sortof attorney's clerk, or else the master of a national school--whatever he was, it is clear his present position is a change forthe better. His income is small certainly, as the rusty black coatand threadbare velvet collar demonstrate: but then he lives freeof house-rent, has a limited allowance of coals and candles, and analmost unlimited allowance of authority in his petty kingdom. Heis a tall, thin, bony man; always wears shoes and black cottonstockings with his surtout; and eyes you, as you pass his parlour-window, as if he wished you were a pauper, just to give you aspecimen of his power. He is an admirable specimen of a smalltyrant: morose, brutish, and ill-tempered; bullying to hisinferiors, cringing to his superiors, and jealous of the influenceand authority of the beadle. 

Our schoolmaster is just the very reverse of this amiable official. He has been one of those men one occasionally hears of, on whommisfortune seems to have set her mark; nothing he ever did, or wasconcerned in, appears to have prospered. A rich old relation whohad brought him up, and openly announced his intention of providingfor him, left him 10, 000l. In his will, and revoked the bequest ina codicil. Thus unexpectedly reduced to the necessity of providingfor himself, he procured a situation in a public office. The youngclerks below him, died off as if there were a plague among them;but the old fellows over his head, for the reversion of whoseplaces he was anxiously waiting, lived on and on, as if they wereimmortal. He speculated and lost. He speculated again and won--but never got his money. His talents were great; his disposition, easy, generous and liberal. His friends profited by the one, andabused the other. Loss succeeded loss; misfortune crowded onmisfortune; each successive day brought him nearer the verge ofhopeless penury, and the quondam friends who had been warmest intheir professions, grew strangely cold and indifferent. He hadchildren whom he loved, and a wife on whom he doted. The formerturned their backs on him; the latter died broken-hearted. He wentwith the stream--it had ever been his failing, and he had notcourage sufficient to bear up against so many shocks--he had nevercared for himself, and the only being who had cared for him, in hispoverty and distress, was spared to him no longer. It was at thisperiod that he applied for parochial relief. Some kind-hearted manwho had known him in happier times, chanced to be churchwarden thatyear, and through his interest he was appointed to his presentsituation. 

He is an old man now. Of the many who once crowded round him inall the hollow friendship of boon-companionship, some have died, some have fallen like himself, some have prospered--all haveforgotten him. Time and misfortune have mercifully been permittedto impair his memory, and use has habituated him to his presentcondition. Meek, uncomplaining, and zealous in the discharge ofhis duties, he has been allowed to hold his situation long beyondthe usual period; and he will no doubt continue to hold it, untilinfirmity renders him incapable, or death releases him. As thegrey-headed old man feebly paces up and down the sunny side of thelittle court-yard between school hours, it would be difficult, indeed, for the most intimate of his former friends to recognisetheir once gay and happy associate, in the person of the PauperSchoolmaster. 

CHAPTER II--THE CURATE. THE OLD LADY. THE HALF-PAY CAPTAIN

We commenced our last chapter with the beadle of our parish, because we are deeply sensible of the importance and dignity of hisoffice. We will begin the present, with the clergyman. Our curateis a young gentleman of such prepossessing appearance, andfascinating manners, that within one month after his firstappearance in the parish, half the young-lady inhabitants weremelancholy with religion, and the other half, desponding with love. Never were so many young ladies seen in our parish church on Sundaybefore; and never had the little round angels' faces on Mr. Tomkins's monument in the side aisle, beheld such devotion on earthas they all exhibited. He was about five-and-twenty when he firstcame to astonish the parishioners. He parted his hair on thecentre of his forehead in the form of a Norman arch, wore abrilliant of the first water on the fourth finger of his left hand(which he always applied to his left cheek when he read prayers), and had a deep sepulchral voice of unusual solemnity. Innumerablewere the calls made by prudent mammas on our new curate, andinnumerable the invitations with which he was assailed, and which, to do him justice, he readily accepted. If his manner in thepulpit had created an impression in his favour, the sensation wasincreased tenfold, by his appearance in private circles. Pews inthe immediate vicinity of the pulpit or reading-desk rose in value;sittings in the centre aisle were at a premium: an inch of room inthe front row of the gallery could not be procured for love ormoney; and some people even went so far as to assert, that thethree Miss Browns, who had an obscure family pew just behind thechurchwardens', were detected, one Sunday, in the free seats by thecommunion-table, actually lying in wait for the curate as he passedto the vestry! He began to preach extempore sermons, and evengrave papas caught the infection. He got out of bed at half-pasttwelve o'clock one winter's night, to half-baptise a washerwoman'schild in a slop-basin, and the gratitude of the parishioners knewno bounds--the very churchwardens grew generous, and insisted onthe parish defraying the expense of the watch-box on wheels, whichthe new curate had ordered for himself, to perform the funeralservice in, in wet weather. He sent three pints of gruel and aquarter of a pound of tea to a poor woman who had been brought tobed of four small children, all at once--the parish were charmed. He got up a subscription for her--the woman's fortune was made. Hespoke for one hour and twenty-five minutes, at an anti-slaverymeeting at the Goat and Boots--the enthusiasm was at its height. Aproposal was set on foot for presenting the curate with a piece ofplate, as a mark of esteem for his valuable services rendered tothe parish. The list of subscriptions was filled up in no time;the contest was, not who should escape the contribution, but whoshould be the foremost to subscribe. A splendid silver inkstandwas made, and engraved with an appropriate inscription; the curatewas invited to a public breakfast, at the before-mentioned Goat andBoots; the inkstand was presented in a neat speech by Mr. Gubbins, the ex-churchwarden, and acknowledged by the curate in terms whichdrew tears into the eyes of all present--the very waiters weremelted. 

One would have supposed that, by this time, the theme of universaladmiration was lifted to the very pinnacle of popularity. No suchthing. The curate began to cough; four fits of coughing onemorning between the Litany and the Epistle, and five in theafternoon service. Here was a discovery--the curate wasconsumptive. How interestingly melancholy! If the young ladieswere energetic before, their sympathy and solicitude now knew nobounds. Such a man as the curate--such a dear--such a perfectlove--to be consumptive! It was too much. Anonymous presents ofblack-currant jam, and lozenges, elastic waistcoats, bosom friends, and warm stockings, poured in upon the curate until he was ascompletely fitted out with winter clothing, as if he were on theverge of an expedition to the North Pole: verbal bulletins of thestate of his health were circulated throughout the parish half-a-dozen times a day; and the curate was in the very zenith of hispopularity. 

About this period, a change came over the spirit of the parish. Avery quiet, respectable, dozing old gentleman, who had officiatedin our chapel-of-ease for twelve years previously, died one finemorning, without having given any notice whatever of his intention. This circumstance gave rise to counter-sensation the first; and thearrival of his successor occasioned counter-sensation the second. He was a pale, thin, cadaverous man, with large black eyes, andlong straggling black hair: his dress was slovenly in the extreme, his manner ungainly, his doctrines startling; in short, he was inevery respect the antipodes of the curate. Crowds of our femaleparishioners flocked to hear him; at first, because he was SO odd-looking, then because his face was SO expressive, then because hepreached SO well; and at last, because they really thought that, after all, there was something about him which it was quiteimpossible to describe. As to the curate, he was all very well;but certainly, after all, there was no denying that--that--inshort, the curate wasn't a novelty, and the other clergyman was. The inconstancy of public opinion is proverbial: the congregationmigrated one by one. The curate coughed till he was black in theface--it was in vain. He respired with difficulty--it was equallyineffectual in awakening sympathy. Seats are once again to be hadin any part of our parish church, and the chapel-of-ease is goingto be enlarged, as it is crowded to suffocation every Sunday!

The best known and most respected among our parishioners, is an oldlady, who resided in our parish long before our name was registeredin the list of baptisms. Our parish is a suburban one, and the oldlady lives in a neat row of houses in the most airy and pleasantpart of it. The house is her own; and it, and everything about it, except the old lady herself, who looks a little older than she didten years ago, is in just the same state as when the old gentlemanwas living. The little front parlour, which is the old lady'sordinary sitting-room, is a perfect picture of quiet neatness; thecarpet is covered with brown Holland, the glass and picture-framesare carefully enveloped in yellow muslin; the table-covers arenever taken off, except when the leaves are turpentined and bees'-waxed, an operation which is regularly commenced every othermorning at half-past nine o'clock--and the little nicknacks arealways arranged in precisely the same manner. The greater part ofthese are presents from little girls whose parents live in the samerow; but some of them, such as the two old-fashioned watches (whichnever keep the same time, one being always a quarter of an hour tooslow, and the other a quarter of an hour too fast), the littlepicture of the Princess Charlotte and Prince Leopold as theyappeared in the Royal Box at Drury Lane Theatre, and others of thesame class, have been in the old lady's possession for many years. Here the old lady sits with her spectacles on, busily engaged inneedlework--near the window in summer time; and if she sees youcoming up the steps, and you happen to be a favourite, she trotsout to open the street-door for you before you knock, and as youmust be fatigued after that hot walk, insists on your swallowingtwo glasses of sherry before you exert yourself by talking. If youcall in the evening you will find her cheerful, but rather moreserious than usual, with an open Bible on the table, before her, ofwhich 'Sarah, ' who is just as neat and methodical as her mistress, regularly reads two or three chapters in the parlour aloud. 

The old lady sees scarcely any company, except the little girlsbefore noticed, each of whom has always a regular fixed day for aperiodical tea-drinking with her, to which the child looks forwardas the greatest treat of its existence. She seldom visits at agreater distance than the next door but one on either side; andwhen she drinks tea here, Sarah runs out first and knocks a double-knock, to prevent the possibility of her 'Missis's' catching coldby having to wait at the door. She is very scrupulous in returningthese little invitations, and when she asks Mr. And Mrs. So-and-so, to meet Mr. And Mrs. Somebody-else, Sarah and she dust the urn, andthe best china tea-service, and the Pope Joan board; and thevisitors are received in the drawing-room in great state. She hasbut few relations, and they are scattered about in different partsof the country, and she seldom sees them. She has a son in India, whom she always describes to you as a fine, handsome fellow--solike the profile of his poor dear father over the sideboard, butthe old lady adds, with a mournful shake of the head, that he hasalways been one of her greatest trials; and that indeed he oncealmost broke her heart; but it pleased God to enable her to get thebetter of it, and she would prefer your never mentioning thesubject to her again. She has a great number of pensioners: andon Saturday, after she comes back from market, there is a regularlevee of old men and women in the passage, waiting for their weeklygratuity. Her name always heads the list of any benevolentsubscriptions, and hers are always the most liberal donations tothe Winter Coal and Soup Distribution Society. She subscribedtwenty pounds towards the erection of an organ in our parishchurch, and was so overcome the first Sunday the children sang toit, that she was obliged to be carried out by the pew-opener. Herentrance into church on Sunday is always the signal for a littlebustle in the side aisle, occasioned by a general rise among thepoor people, who bow and curtsey until the pew-opener has usheredthe old lady into her accustomed seat, dropped a respectfulcurtsey, and shut the door: and the same ceremony is repeated onher leaving church, when she walks home with the family next doorbut one, and talks about the sermon all the way, invariably openingthe conversation by asking the youngest boy where the text was. 

Thus, with the annual variation of a trip to some quiet place onthe sea-coast, passes the old lady's life. It has rolled on in thesame unvarying and benevolent course for many years now, and mustat no distant period be brought to its final close. She looksforward to its termination, with calmness and without apprehension. She has everything to hope and nothing to fear. 

A very different personage, but one who has rendered himself veryconspicuous in our parish, is one of the old lady's next-doorneighbours. He is an old naval officer on half-pay, and his bluffand unceremonious behaviour disturbs the old lady's domesticeconomy, not a little. In the first place, he WILL smoke cigars inthe front court, and when he wants something to drink with them--which is by no means an uncommon circumstance--he lifts up the oldlady's knocker with his walking-stick, and demands to have a glassof table ale, handed over the rails. In addition to this coolproceeding, he is a bit of a Jack of all trades, or to use his ownwords, 'a regular Robinson Crusoe;' and nothing delights him betterthan to experimentalise on the old lady's property. One morning hegot up early, and planted three or four roots of full-grownmarigolds in every bed of her front garden, to the inconceivableastonishment of the old lady, who actually thought when she got upand looked out of the window, that it was some strange eruptionwhich had come out in the night. Another time he took to piecesthe eight-day clock on the front landing, under pretence ofcleaning the works, which he put together again, by someundiscovered process, in so wonderful a manner, that the large handhas done nothing but trip up the little one ever since. Then hetook to breeding silk-worms, which he WOULD bring in two or threetimes a day, in little paper boxes, to show the old lady, generallydropping a worm or two at every visit. The consequence was, thatone morning a very stout silk-worm was discovered in the act ofwalking up-stairs--probably with the view of inquiring after hisfriends, for, on further inspection, it appeared that some of hiscompanions had already found their way to every room in the house. The old lady went to the seaside in despair, and during her absencehe completely effaced the name from her brass door-plate, in hisattempts to polish it with aqua-fortis. 

But all this is nothing to his seditious conduct in public life. He attends every vestry meeting that is held; always opposes theconstituted authorities of the parish, denounces the profligacy ofthe churchwardens, contests legal points against the vestry-clerk, will make the tax-gatherer call for his money till he won't callany longer, and then he sends it: finds fault with the sermonevery Sunday, says that the organist ought to be ashamed ofhimself, offers to back himself for any amount to sing the psalmsbetter than all the children put together, male and female; and, inshort, conducts himself in the most turbulent and uproariousmanner. The worst of it is, that having a high regard for the oldlady, he wants to make her a convert to his views, and thereforewalks into her little parlour with his newspaper in his hand, andtalks violent politics by the hour. He is a charitable, open-hearted old fellow at bottom, after all; so, although he puts theold lady a little out occasionally, they agree very well in themain, and she laughs as much at each feat of his handiwork when itis all over, as anybody else. 

CHAPTER III--THE FOUR SISTERS

The row of houses in which the old lady and her troublesomeneighbour reside, comprises, beyond all doubt, a greater number ofcharacters within its circumscribed limits, than all the rest ofthe parish put together. As we cannot, consistently with ourpresent plan, however, extend the number of our parochial sketchesbeyond six, it will be better perhaps, to select the most peculiar, and to introduce them at once without further preface. 

The four Miss Willises, then, settled in our parish thirteen yearsago. It is a melancholy reflection that the old adage, 'time andtide wait for no man, ' applies with equal force to the fairerportion of the creation; and willingly would we conceal the fact, that even thirteen years ago the Miss Willises were far fromjuvenile. Our duty as faithful parochial chroniclers, however, isparamount to every other consideration, and we are bound to state, that thirteen years since, the authorities in matrimonial cases, considered the youngest Miss Willis in a very precarious state, while the eldest sister was positively given over, as being farbeyond all human hope. Well, the Miss Willises took a lease of thehouse; it was fresh painted and papered from top to bottom: thepaint inside was all wainscoted, the marble all cleaned, the oldgrates taken down, and register-stoves, you could see to dress by, put up; four trees were planted in the back garden, several smallbaskets of gravel sprinkled over the front one, vans of elegantfurniture arrived, spring blinds were fitted to the windows, carpenters who had been employed in the various preparations, alterations, and repairs, made confidential statements to thedifferent maid-servants in the row, relative to the magnificentscale on which the Miss Willises were commencing; the maid-servantstold their 'Missises, ' the Missises told their friends, and vaguerumours were circulated throughout the parish, that No. 25, inGordon-place, had been taken by four maiden ladies of immenseproperty. 

At last, the Miss Willises moved in; and then the 'calling' began. The house was the perfection of neatness--so were the four MissWillises. Everything was formal, stiff, and cold--so were the fourMiss Willises. Not a single chair of the whole set was ever seenout of its place--not a single Miss Willis of the whole four wasever seen out of hers. There they always sat, in the same places, doing precisely the same things at the same hour. The eldest MissWillis used to knit, the second to draw, the two others to playduets on the piano. They seemed to have no separate existence, butto have made up their minds just to winter through life together. They were three long graces in drapery, with the addition, like aschool-dinner, of another long grace afterwards--the three fateswith another sister--the Siamese twins multiplied by two. Theeldest Miss Willis grew bilious--the four Miss Willises grewbilious immediately. The eldest Miss Willis grew ill-tempered andreligious--the four Miss Willises were ill-tempered and religiousdirectly. Whatever the eldest did, the others did, and whateveranybody else did, they all disapproved of; and thus they vegetated--living in Polar harmony among themselves, and, as they sometimeswent out, or saw company 'in a quiet-way' at home, occasionallyicing the neighbours. Three years passed over in this way, when anunlooked for and extraordinary phenomenon occurred. The MissWillises showed symptoms of summer, the frost gradually broke up; acomplete thaw took place. Was it possible? one of the four MissWillises was going to be married!

Now, where on earth the husband came from, by what feelings thepoor man could have been actuated, or by what process of reasoningthe four Miss Willises succeeded in persuading themselves that itwas possible for a man to marry one of them, without marrying themall, are questions too profound for us to resolve: certain it is, however, that the visits of Mr. Robinson (a gentleman in a publicoffice, with a good salary and a little property of his own, besides) were received--that the four Miss Willises were courted indue form by the said Mr Robinson--that the neighbours wereperfectly frantic in their anxiety to discover which of the fourMiss Willises was the fortunate fair, and that the difficulty theyexperienced in solving the problem was not at all lessened by theannouncement of the eldest Miss Willis, --'WE are going to marry Mr. Robinson. '

It was very extraordinary. They were so completely identified, theone with the other, that the curiosity of the whole row--even ofthe old lady herself--was roused almost beyond endurance. Thesubject was discussed at every little card-table and tea-drinking. The old gentleman of silk-worm notoriety did not hesitate toexpress his decided opinion that Mr. Robinson was of Easterndescent, and contemplated marrying the whole family at once; andthe row, generally, shook their heads with considerable gravity, and declared the business to be very mysterious. They hoped itmight all end well;--it certainly had a very singular appearance, but still it would be uncharitable to express any opinion withoutgood grounds to go upon, and certainly the Miss Willises were QUITEold enough to judge for themselves, and to be sure people ought toknow their own business best, and so forth. 

At last, one fine morning, at a quarter before eight o'clock, A. M. , two glass-coaches drove up to the Miss Willises' door, at which Mr. Robinson had arrived in a cab ten minutes before, dressed in alight-blue coat and double-milled kersey pantaloons, whiteneckerchief, pumps, and dress-gloves, his manner denoting, asappeared from the evidence of the housemaid at No. 23, who wassweeping the door-steps at the time, a considerable degree ofnervous excitement. It was also hastily reported on the sametestimony, that the cook who opened the door, wore a large whitebow of unusual dimensions, in a much smarter head-dress than theregulation cap to which the Miss Willises invariably restricted thesomewhat excursive tastes of female servants in general. 

The intelligence spread rapidly from house to house. It was quiteclear that the eventful morning had at length arrived; the wholerow stationed themselves behind their first and second floorblinds, and waited the result in breathless expectation. 

At last the Miss Willises' door opened; the door of the firstglass-coach did the same. Two gentlemen, and a pair of ladies tocorrespond--friends of the family, no doubt; up went the steps, bang went the door, off went the first class-coach, and up came thesecond. 

The street door opened again; the excitement of the whole rowincreased--Mr. Robinson and the eldest Miss Willis. 'I thoughtso, ' said the lady at No. 19; 'I always said it was MISS Willis!'--'Well, I never!' ejaculated the young lady at No. 18 to the younglady at No. 17. --'Did you ever, dear!' responded the young lady atNo. 17 to the young lady at No. 18. 'It's too ridiculous!'exclaimed a spinster of an UNcertain age, at No. 16, joining in theconversation. But who shall portray the astonishment of Gordon-place, when Mr. Robinson handed in ALL the Miss Willises, one afterthe other, and then squeezed himself into an acute angle of theglass-coach, which forthwith proceeded at a brisk pace, after theother glass-coach, which other glass-coach had itself proceeded, ata brisk pace, in the direction of the parish church! Who shalldepict the perplexity of the clergyman, when ALL the Miss Willisesknelt down at the communion-table, and repeated the responsesincidental to the marriage service in an audible voice--or whoshall describe the confusion which prevailed, when--even after thedifficulties thus occasioned had been adjusted--ALL the MissWillises went into hysterics at the conclusion of the ceremony, until the sacred edifice resounded with their united wailings!

As the four sisters and Mr. Robinson continued to occupy the samehouse after this memorable occasion, and as the married sister, whoever she was, never appeared in public without the other three, we are not quite clear that the neighbours ever would havediscovered the real Mrs. Robinson, but for a circumstance of themost gratifying description, which WILL happen occasionally in thebest-regulated families. Three quarter-days elapsed, and the row, on whom a new light appeared to have been bursting for some time, began to speak with a sort of implied confidence on the subject, and to wonder how Mrs. Robinson--the youngest Miss Willis that was--got on; and servants might be seen running up the steps, aboutnine or ten o'clock every morning, with 'Missis's compliments, andwishes to know how Mrs. Robinson finds herself this morning?' Andthe answer always was, 'Mrs. Robinson's compliments, and she's invery good spirits, and doesn't find herself any worse. ' The pianowas heard no longer, the knitting-needles were laid aside, drawingwas neglected, and mantua-making and millinery, on the smallestscale imaginable, appeared to have become the favourite amusementof the whole family. The parlour wasn't quite as tidy as it usedto be, and if you called in the morning, you would see lying on atable, with an old newspaper carelessly thrown over them, two orthree particularly small caps, rather larger than if they had beenmade for a moderate-sized doll, with a small piece of lace, in theshape of a horse-shoe, let in behind: or perhaps a white robe, notvery large in circumference, but very much out of proportion inpoint of length, with a little tucker round the top, and a frillround the bottom; and once when we called, we saw a long whiteroller, with a kind of blue margin down each side, the probable useof which, we were at a loss to conjecture. Then we fancied thatDr. Dawson, the surgeon, &c. , who displays a large lamp with adifferent colour in every pane of glass, at the corner of the row, began to be knocked up at night oftener than he used to be; andonce we were very much alarmed by hearing a hackney-coach stop atMrs. Robinson's door, at half-past two o'clock in the morning, outof which there emerged a fat old woman, in a cloak and night-cap, with a bundle in one hand, and a pair of pattens in the other, wholooked as if she had been suddenly knocked up out of bed for somevery special purpose. 

When we got up in the morning we saw that the knocker was tied upin an old white kid glove; and we, in our innocence (we were in astate of bachelorship then), wondered what on earth it all meant, until we heard the eldest Miss Willis, in propria persona say, withgreat dignity, in answer to the next inquiry, 'MY compliments, andMrs. Robinson's doing as well as can be expected, and the littlegirl thrives wonderfully. ' And then, in common with the rest ofthe row, our curiosity was satisfied, and we began to wonder it hadnever occurred to us what the matter was, before. 

CHAPTER IV--THE ELECTION FOR BEADLE

A great event has recently occurred in our parish. A contest ofparamount interest has just terminated; a parochial convulsion hastaken place. It has been succeeded by a glorious triumph, whichthe country--or at least the parish--it is all the same--will longremember. We have had an election; an election for beadle. Thesupporters of the old beadle system have been defeated in theirstronghold, and the advocates of the great new beadle principleshave achieved a proud victory. 

Our parish, which, like all other parishes, is a little world ofits own, has long been divided into two parties, whose contentions, slumbering for a while, have never failed to burst forth withunabated vigour, on any occasion on which they could by possibilitybe renewed. Watching-rates, lighting-rates, paving-rates, sewer's-rates, church-rates, poor's-rates--all sorts of rates, have been intheir turns the subjects of a grand struggle; and as to questionsof patronage, the asperity and determination with which they havebeen contested is scarcely credible. 

The leader of the official party--the steady advocate of thechurchwardens, and the unflinching supporter of the overseers--isan old gentleman who lives in our row. He owns some half a dozenhouses in it, and always walks on the opposite side of the way, sothat he may be able to take in a view of the whole of his propertyat once. He is a tall, thin, bony man, with an interrogative nose, and little restless perking eyes, which appear to have been givenhim for the sole purpose of peeping into other people's affairswith. He is deeply impressed with the importance of our parishbusiness, and prides himself, not a little, on his style ofaddressing the parishioners in vestry assembled. His views arerather confined than extensive; his principles more narrow thanliberal. He has been heard to declaim very loudly in favour of theliberty of the press, and advocates the repeal of the stamp duty onnewspapers, because the daily journals who now have a monopoly ofthe public, never give verbatim reports of vestry meetings. Hewould not appear egotistical for the world, but at the same time hemust say, that there are SPEECHES--that celebrated speech of hisown, on the emoluments of the sexton, and the duties of the office, for instance--which might be communicated to the public, greatly totheir improvement and advantage. 

His great opponent in public life is Captain Purday, the old navalofficer on half-pay, to whom we have already introduced ourreaders. The captain being a determined opponent of theconstituted authorities, whoever they may chance to be, and ourother friend being their steady supporter, with an equal disregardof their individual merits, it will readily be supposed, thatoccasions for their coming into direct collision are neither fewnor far between. They divided the vestry fourteen times on amotion for heating the church with warm water instead of coals:and made speeches about liberty and expenditure, and prodigalityand hot water, which threw the whole parish into a state ofexcitement. Then the captain, when he was on the visitingcommittee, and his opponent overseer, brought forward certaindistinct and specific charges relative to the management of theworkhouse, boldly expressed his total want of confidence in theexisting authorities, and moved for 'a copy of the recipe by whichthe paupers' soup was prepared, together with any documentsrelating thereto. ' This the overseer steadily resisted; hefortified himself by precedent, appealed to the established usage, and declined to produce the papers, on the ground of the injurythat would be done to the public service, if documents of astrictly private nature, passing between the master of theworkhouse and the cook, were to be thus dragged to light on themotion of any individual member of the vestry. The motion was lostby a majority of two; and then the captain, who never allowshimself to be defeated, moved for a committee of inquiry into thewhole subject. The affair grew serious: the question wasdiscussed at meeting after meeting, and vestry after vestry;speeches were made, attacks repudiated, personal defiancesexchanged, explanations received, and the greatest excitementprevailed, until at last, just as the question was going to befinally decided, the vestry found that somehow or other, they hadbecome entangled in a point of form, from which it was impossibleto escape with propriety. So, the motion was dropped, andeverybody looked extremely important, and seemed quite satisfiedwith the meritorious nature of the whole proceeding. 

This was the state of affairs in our parish a week or two since, when Simmons, the beadle, suddenly died. The lamented deceased hadover-exerted himself, a day or two previously, in conveying an agedfemale, highly intoxicated, to the strong room of the work-house. The excitement thus occasioned, added to a severe cold, which thisindefatigable officer had caught in his capacity of director of theparish engine, by inadvertently playing over himself instead of afire, proved too much for a constitution already enfeebled by age;and the intelligence was conveyed to the Board one evening thatSimmons had died, and left his respects. 

The breath was scarcely out of the body of the deceasedfunctionary, when the field was filled with competitors for thevacant office, each of whom rested his claims to public support, entirely on the number and extent of his family, as if the officeof beadle were originally instituted as an encouragement for thepropagation of the human species. 'Bung for Beadle. Five smallchildren!'--'Hopkins for Beadle. Seven small children!!'--'Timkinsfor Beadle. Nine small children!!!' Such were the placards inlarge black letters on a white ground, which were plentifullypasted on the walls, and posted in the windows of the principalshops. Timkins's success was considered certain: several mothersof families half promised their votes, and the nine small childrenwould have run over the course, but for the production of anotherplacard, announcing the appearance of a still more meritoriouscandidate. 'Spruggins for Beadle. Ten small children (two of themtwins), and a wife!!!' There was no resisting this; ten smallchildren would have been almost irresistible in themselves, withoutthe twins, but the touching parenthesis about that interestingproduction of nature, and the still more touching allusion to Mrs. Spruggins, must ensure success. Spruggins was the favourite atonce, and the appearance of his lady, as she went about to solicitvotes (which encouraged confident hopes of a still further additionto the house of Spruggins at no remote period), increased thegeneral prepossession in his favour. The other candidates, Bungalone excepted, resigned in despair. The day of election wasfixed; and the canvass proceeded with briskness and perseverance onboth sides. 

The members of the vestry could not be supposed to escape thecontagious excitement inseparable from the occasion. The majorityof the lady inhabitants of the parish declared at once forSpruggins; and the quondam overseer took the same side, on theground that men with large families always had been elected to theoffice, and that although he must admit, that, in other respects, Spruggins was the least qualified candidate of the two, still itwas an old practice, and he saw no reason why an old practiceshould be departed from. This was enough for the captain. Heimmediately sided with Bung, canvassed for him personally in alldirections, wrote squibs on Spruggins, and got his butcher toskewer them up on conspicuous joints in his shop-front; frightenedhis neighbour, the old lady, into a palpitation of the heart, byhis awful denunciations of Spruggins's party; and bounced in andout, and up and down, and backwards and forwards, until all thesober inhabitants of the parish thought it inevitable that he mustdie of a brain fever, long before the election began. 

The day of election arrived. It was no longer an individualstruggle, but a party contest between the ins and outs. Thequestion was, whether the withering influence of the overseers, thedomination of the churchwardens, and the blighting despotism of thevestry-clerk, should be allowed to render the election of beadle aform--a nullity: whether they should impose a vestry-electedbeadle on the parish, to do their bidding and forward their views, or whether the parishioners, fearlessly asserting their undoubtedrights, should elect an independent beadle of their own. 

The nomination was fixed to take place in the vestry, but so greatwas the throng of anxious spectators, that it was found necessaryto adjourn to the church, where the ceremony commenced with duesolemnity. The appearance of the churchwardens and overseers, andthe ex-churchwardens and ex-overseers, with Spruggins in the rear, excited general attention. Spruggins was a little thin man, inrusty black, with a long pale face, and a countenance expressive ofcare and fatigue, which might either be attributed to the extent ofhis family or the anxiety of his feelings. His opponent appearedin a cast-off coat of the captain's--a blue coat with brightbuttons; white trousers, and that description of shoes familiarlyknown by the appellation of 'high-lows. ' There was a serenity inthe open countenance of Bung--a kind of moral dignity in hisconfident air--an 'I wish you may get it' sort of expression in hiseye--which infused animation into his supporters, and evidentlydispirited his opponents. 

The ex-churchwarden rose to propose Thomas Spruggins for beadle. He had known him long. He had had his eye upon him closely foryears; he had watched him with twofold vigilance for months. (Aparishioner here suggested that this might be termed 'taking adouble sight, ' but the observation was drowned in loud cries of'Order!') He would repeat that he had had his eye upon him foryears, and this he would say, that a more well-conducted, a morewell-behaved, a more sober, a more quiet man, with a more well-regulated mind, he had never met with. A man with a larger familyhe had never known (cheers). The parish required a man who couldbe depended on ('Hear!' from the Spruggins side, answered byironical cheers from the Bung party). Such a man he now proposed('No, ' 'Yes'). He would not allude to individuals (the ex-churchwarden continued, in the celebrated negative style adopted bygreat speakers). He would not advert to a gentleman who had onceheld a high rank in the service of his majesty; he would not say, that that gentleman was no gentleman; he would not assert, thatthat man was no man; he would not say, that he was a turbulentparishioner; he would not say, that he had grossly misbehavedhimself, not only on this, but on all former occasions; he wouldnot say, that he was one of those discontented and treasonablespirits, who carried confusion and disorder wherever they went; hewould not say, that he harboured in his heart envy, and hatred, andmalice, and all uncharitableness. No! He wished to haveeverything comfortable and pleasant, and therefore, he would say--nothing about him (cheers). 

The captain replied in a similar parliamentary style. He would notsay, he was astonished at the speech they had just heard; he wouldnot say, he was disgusted (cheers). He would not retort theepithets which had been hurled against him (renewed cheering); hewould not allude to men once in office, but now happily out of it, who had mismanaged the workhouse, ground the paupers, diluted thebeer, slack-baked the bread, boned the meat, heightened the work, and lowered the soup (tremendous cheers). He would not ask whatsuch men deserved (a voice, 'Nothing a-day, and find themselves!'). He would not say, that one burst of general indignation shoulddrive them from the parish they polluted with their presence ('Giveit him!'). He would not allude to the unfortunate man who had beenproposed--he would not say, as the vestry's tool, but as Beadle. He would not advert to that individual's family; he would not say, that nine children, twins, and a wife, were very bad examples forpauper imitation (loud cheers). He would not advert in detail tothe qualifications of Bung. The man stood before him, and he wouldnot say in his presence, what he might be disposed to say of him, if he were absent. (Here Mr. Bung telegraphed to a friend nearhim, under cover of his hat, by contracting his left eye, andapplying his right thumb to the tip of his nose). It had beenobjected to Bung that he had only five children ('Hear, hear!' fromthe opposition). Well; he had yet to learn that the legislaturehad affixed any precise amount of infantine qualification to theoffice of beadle; but taking it for granted that an extensivefamily were a great requisite, he entreated them to look to facts, and compare data, about which there could be no mistake. Bung was35 years of age. Spruggins--of whom he wished to speak with allpossible respect--was 50. Was it not more than possible--was itnot very probable--that by the time Bung attained the latter age, he might see around him a family, even exceeding in number andextent, that to which Spruggins at present laid claim (deafeningcheers and waving of handkerchiefs)? The captain concluded, amidstloud applause, by calling upon the parishioners to sound thetocsin, rush to the poll, free themselves from dictation, or beslaves for ever. 

On the following day the polling began, and we never have had sucha bustle in our parish since we got up our famous anti-slaverypetition, which was such an important one, that the House ofCommons ordered it to be printed, on the motion of the member forthe district. The captain engaged two hackney-coaches and a cabfor Bung's people--the cab for the drunken voters, and the twocoaches for the old ladies, the greater portion of whom, owing tothe captain's impetuosity, were driven up to the poll and homeagain, before they recovered from their flurry sufficiently toknow, with any degree of clearness, what they had been doing. Theopposite party wholly neglected these precautions, and theconsequence was, that a great many ladies who were walkingleisurely up to the church--for it was a very hot day--to vote forSpruggins, were artfully decoyed into the coaches, and voted forBung. The captain's arguments, too, had produced considerableeffect: the attempted influence of the vestry produced a greater. A threat of exclusive dealing was clearly established against thevestry-clerk--a case of heartless and profligate atrocity. Itappeared that the delinquent had been in the habit of purchasingsix penn'orth of muffins, weekly, from an old woman who rents asmall house in the parish, and resides among the original settlers;on her last weekly visit, a message was conveyed to her through themedium of the cook, couched in mysterious terms, but indicatingwith sufficient clearness, that the vestry-clerk's appetite formuffins, in future, depended entirely on her vote on thebeadleship. This was sufficient: the stream had been turningpreviously, and the impulse thus administered directed its finalcourse. The Bung party ordered one shilling's-worth of muffinsweekly for the remainder of the old woman's natural life; theparishioners were loud in their exclamations; and the fate ofSpruggins was sealed. 

It was in vain that the twins were exhibited in dresses of the samepattern, and night-caps, to match, at the church door: the boy inMrs. Spruggins's right arm, and the girl in her left--even Mrs. Spruggins herself failed to be an object of sympathy any longer. The majority attained by Bung on the gross poll was four hundredand twenty-eight, and the cause of the parishioners triumphed. 

CHAPTER V--THE BROKER'S MAN

The excitement of the late election has subsided, and our parishbeing once again restored to a state of comparative tranquillity, we are enabled to devote our attention to those parishioners whotake little share in our party contests or in the turmoil andbustle of public life. And we feel sincere pleasure inacknowledging here, that in collecting materials for this task wehave been greatly assisted by Mr. Bung himself, who has imposed onus a debt of obligation which we fear we can never repay. The lifeof this gentleman has been one of a very chequered description: hehas undergone transitions--not from grave to gay, for he never wasgrave--not from lively to severe, for severity forms no part of hisdisposition; his fluctuations have been between poverty in theextreme, and poverty modified, or, to use his own emphaticlanguage, 'between nothing to eat and just half enough. ' He isnot, as he forcibly remarks, 'one of those fortunate men who, ifthey were to dive under one side of a barge stark-naked, would comeup on the other with a new suit of clothes on, and a ticket forsoup in the waistcoat-pocket:' neither is he one of those, whosespirit has been broken beyond redemption by misfortune and want. He is just one of the careless, good-for-nothing, happy fellows, who float, cork-like, on the surface, for the world to play athockey with: knocked here, and there, and everywhere: now to theright, then to the left, again up in the air, and anon to thebottom, but always reappearing and bounding with the streambuoyantly and merrily along. Some few months before he wasprevailed upon to stand a contested election for the office ofbeadle, necessity attached him to the service of a broker; and onthe opportunities he here acquired of ascertaining the condition ofmost of the poorer inhabitants of the parish, his patron, thecaptain, first grounded his claims to public support. Chance threwthe man in our way a short time since. We were, in the firstinstance, attracted by his prepossessing impudence at the election;we were not surprised, on further acquaintance, to find him ashrewd, knowing fellow, with no inconsiderable power ofobservation; and, after conversing with him a little, were somewhatstruck (as we dare say our readers have frequently been in othercases) with the power some men seem to have, not only ofsympathising with, but to all appearance of understanding feelingsto which they themselves are entire strangers. We had beenexpressing to the new functionary our surprise that he should everhave served in the capacity to which we have just adverted, when wegradually led him into one or two professional anecdotes. As weare induced to think, on reflection, that they will tell better innearly his own words, than with any attempted embellishments ofours, we will at once entitle them. 

MR BUNG'S NARRATIVE

'It's very true, as you say, sir, ' Mr. Bung commenced, 'that abroker's man's is not a life to be envied; and in course you knowas well as I do, though you don't say it, that people hate andscout 'em because they're the ministers of wretchedness, like, topoor people. But what could I do, sir? The thing was no worsebecause I did it, instead of somebody else; and if putting me inpossession of a house would put me in possession of three andsixpence a day, and levying a distress on another man's goods wouldrelieve my distress and that of my family, it can't be expected butwhat I'd take the job and go through with it. I never liked it, God knows; I always looked out for something else, and the moment Igot other work to do, I left it. If there is anything wrong inbeing the agent in such matters--not the principal, mind you--I'msure the business, to a beginner like I was, at all events, carriesits own punishment along with it. I wished again and again thatthe people would only blow me up, or pitch into me--that I wouldn'thave minded, it's all in my way; but it's the being shut up byyourself in one room for five days, without so much as an oldnewspaper to look at, or anything to see out o' the winder but theroofs and chimneys at the back of the house, or anything to listento, but the ticking, perhaps, of an old Dutch clock, the sobbing ofthe missis, now and then, the low talking of friends in the nextroom, who speak in whispers, lest "the man" should overhear them, or perhaps the occasional opening of the door, as a child peeps into look at you, and then runs half-frightened away--it's all this, that makes you feel sneaking somehow, and ashamed of yourself; andthen, if it's wintertime, they just give you fire enough to makeyou think you'd like more, and bring in your grub as if they wishedit 'ud choke you--as I dare say they do, for the matter of that, most heartily. If they're very civil, they make you up a bed inthe room at night, and if they don't, your master sends one in foryou; but there you are, without being washed or shaved all thetime, shunned by everybody, and spoken to by no one, unless someone comes in at dinner-time, and asks you whether you want anymore, in a tone as much to say, "I hope you don't, " or, in theevening, to inquire whether you wouldn't rather have a candle, after you've been sitting in the dark half the night. When I wasleft in this way, I used to sit, think, think, thinking, till Ifelt as lonesome as a kitten in a wash-house copper with the lidon; but I believe the old brokers' men who are regularly trained toit, never think at all. I have heard some on 'em say, indeed, thatthey don't know how!

'I put in a good many distresses in my time (continued Mr. Bung), and in course I wasn't long in finding, that some people are not asmuch to be pitied as others are, and that people with good incomeswho get into difficulties, which they keep patching up day afterday and week after week, get so used to these sort of things intime, that at last they come scarcely to feel them at all. Iremember the very first place I was put in possession of, was agentleman's house in this parish here, that everybody would supposecouldn't help having money if he tried. I went with old Fixem, myold master, 'bout half arter eight in the morning; rang the area-bell; servant in livery opened the door: "Governor at home?"--"Yes, he is, " says the man; "but he's breakfasting just now. ""Never mind, " says Fixem, "just you tell him there's a gentlemanhere, as wants to speak to him partickler. " So the servant heopens his eyes, and stares about him all ways--looking for thegentleman, as it struck me, for I don't think anybody but a man aswas stone-blind would mistake Fixem for one; and as for me, I wasas seedy as a cheap cowcumber. Hows'ever, he turns round, and goesto the breakfast-parlour, which was a little snug sort of room atthe end of the passage, and Fixem (as we always did in thatprofession), without waiting to be announced, walks in arter him, and before the servant could get out, "Please, sir, here's a man aswants to speak to you, " looks in at the door as familiar andpleasant as may be. "Who the devil are you, and how dare you walkinto a gentleman's house without leave?" says the master, as fierceas a bull in fits. "My name, " says Fixem, winking to the master tosend the servant away, and putting the warrant into his handsfolded up like a note, "My name's Smith, " says he, "and I calledfrom Johnson's about that business of Thompson's. "--"Oh, " says theother, quite down on him directly, "How IS Thompson?" says he;"Pray sit down, Mr. Smith: John, leave the room. " Out went theservant; and the gentleman and Fixem looked at one another tillthey couldn't look any longer, and then they varied the amusementsby looking at me, who had been standing on the mat all this time. "Hundred and fifty pounds, I see, " said the gentleman at last. "Hundred and fifty pound, " said Fixem, "besides cost of levy, sheriff's poundage, and all other incidental expenses. "--"Um, " saysthe gentleman, "I shan't be able to settle this before to-morrowafternoon. "--"Very sorry; but I shall be obliged to leave my manhere till then, " replies Fixem, pretending to look very miserableover it. "That's very unfort'nate, " says the gentleman, "for Ihave got a large party here to-night, and I'm ruined if thosefellows of mine get an inkling of the matter--just step here, Mr. Smith, " says he, after a short pause. So Fixem walks with him upto the window, and after a good deal of whispering, and a littlechinking of suverins, and looking at me, he comes back and says, "Bung, you're a handy fellow, and very honest I know. Thisgentleman wants an assistant to clean the plate and wait at tableto-day, and if you're not particularly engaged, " says old Fixem, grinning like mad, and shoving a couple of suverins into my hand, "he'll be very glad to avail himself of your services. " Well, Ilaughed: and the gentleman laughed, and we all laughed; and I wenthome and cleaned myself, leaving Fixem there, and when I went back, Fixem went away, and I polished up the plate, and waited at table, and gammoned the servants, and nobody had the least idea I was inpossession, though it very nearly came out after all; for one ofthe last gentlemen who remained, came down-stairs into the hallwhere I was sitting pretty late at night, and putting half-a-crowninto my hand, says, "Here, my man, " says he, "run and get me acoach, will you?" I thought it was a do, to get me out of thehouse, and was just going to say so, sulkily enough, when thegentleman (who was up to everything) came running down-stairs, asif he was in great anxiety. "Bung, " says he, pretending to be in aconsuming passion. "Sir, " says I. "Why the devil an't you lookingafter that plate?"--"I was just going to send him for a coach forme, " says the other gentleman. "And I was just a-going to say, "says I--"Anybody else, my dear fellow, " interrupts the master ofthe house, pushing me down the passage to get out of the way--"anybody else; but I have put this man in possession of all theplate and valuables, and I cannot allow him on any considerationwhatever, to leave the house. Bung, you scoundrel, go and countthose forks in the breakfast-parlour instantly. " You may be sure Iwent laughing pretty hearty when I found it was all right. Themoney was paid next day, with the addition of something else formyself, and that was the best job that I (and I suspect old Fixemtoo) ever got in that line. 

'But this is the bright side of the picture, sir, after all, 'resumed Mr. Bung, laying aside the knowing look and flash air, withwhich he had repeated the previous anecdote--'and I'm sorry to say, it's the side one sees very, very seldom, in comparison with thedark one. The civility which money will purchase, is rarelyextended to those who have none; and there's a consolation even inbeing able to patch up one difficulty, to make way for another, towhich very poor people are strangers. I was once put into a housedown George's-yard--that little dirty court at the back of the gas-works; and I never shall forget the misery of them people, dear me!It was a distress for half a year's rent--two pound ten, I think. There was only two rooms in the house, and as there was no passage, the lodgers up-stairs always went through the room of the people ofthe house, as they passed in and out; and every time they did so--which, on the average, was about four times every quarter of anhour--they blowed up quite frightful: for their things had beenseized too, and included in the inventory. There was a littlepiece of enclosed dust in front of the house, with a cinder-pathleading up to the door, and an open rain-water butt on one side. Adirty striped curtain, on a very slack string, hung in the window, and a little triangular bit of broken looking-glass rested on thesill inside. I suppose it was meant for the people's use, buttheir appearance was so wretched, and so miserable, that I'mcertain they never could have plucked up courage to look themselvesin the face a second time, if they survived the fright of doing soonce. There was two or three chairs, that might have been worth, in their best days, from eightpence to a shilling a-piece; a smalldeal table, an old corner cupboard with nothing in it, and one ofthose bedsteads which turn up half way, and leave the bottom legssticking out for you to knock your head against, or hang your hatupon; no bed, no bedding. There was an old sack, by way of rug, before the fireplace, and four or five children were grovellingabout, among the sand on the floor. The execution was only put in, to get 'em out of the house, for there was nothing to take to paythe expenses; and here I stopped for three days, though that was amere form too: for, in course, I knew, and we all knew, they couldnever pay the money. In one of the chairs, by the side of theplace where the fire ought to have been, was an old 'ooman--theugliest and dirtiest I ever see--who sat rocking herself backwardsand forwards, backwards and forwards, without once stopping, exceptfor an instant now and then, to clasp together the withered handswhich, with these exceptions, she kept constantly rubbing upon herknees, just raising and depressing her fingers convulsively, intime to the rocking of the chair. On the other side sat the motherwith an infant in her arms, which cried till it cried itself tosleep, and when it 'woke, cried till it cried itself off again. The old 'ooman's voice I never heard: she seemed completelystupefied; and as to the mother's, it would have been better if shehad been so too, for misery had changed her to a devil. If you hadheard how she cursed the little naked children as was rolling onthe floor, and seen how savagely she struck the infant when itcried with hunger, you'd have shuddered as much as I did. Therethey remained all the time: the children ate a morsel of breadonce or twice, and I gave 'em best part of the dinners my missisbrought me, but the woman ate nothing; they never even laid on thebedstead, nor was the room swept or cleaned all the time. Theneighbours were all too poor themselves to take any notice of 'em, but from what I could make out from the abuse of the woman up-stairs, it seemed the husband had been transported a few weeksbefore. When the time was up, the landlord and old Fixem too, gotrather frightened about the family, and so they made a stir aboutit, and had 'em taken to the workhouse. They sent the sick couchfor the old 'ooman, and Simmons took the children away at night. The old 'ooman went into the infirmary, and very soon died. Thechildren are all in the house to this day, and very comfortablethey are in comparison. As to the mother, there was no taming herat all. She had been a quiet, hard-working woman, I believe, buther misery had actually drove her wild; so after she had been sentto the house of correction half-a-dozen times, for throwinginkstands at the overseers, blaspheming the churchwardens, andsmashing everybody as come near her, she burst a blood-vessel onemornin', and died too; and a happy release it was, both for herselfand the old paupers, male and female, which she used to tip over inall directions, as if they were so many skittles, and she the ball. 

'Now this was bad enough, ' resumed Mr. Bung, taking a half-steptowards the door, as if to intimate that he had nearly concluded. 'This was bad enough, but there was a sort of quiet misery--if youunderstand what I mean by that, sir--about a lady at one house Iwas put into, as touched me a good deal more. It doesn't matterwhere it was exactly: indeed, I'd rather not say, but it was thesame sort o' job. I went with Fixem in the usual way--there was ayear's rent in arrear; a very small servant-girl opened the door, and three or four fine-looking little children was in the frontparlour we were shown into, which was very clean, but very scantilyfurnished, much like the children themselves. "Bung, " says Fixemto me, in a low voice, when we were left alone for a minute, "Iknow something about this here family, and my opinion is, it's nogo. " "Do you think they can't settle?" says I, quite anxiously;for I liked the looks of them children. Fixem shook his head, andwas just about to reply, when the door opened, and in come a lady, as white as ever I see any one in my days, except about the eyes, which were red with crying. She walked in, as firm as I could havedone; shut the door carefully after her, and sat herself down witha face as composed as if it was made of stone. "What is thematter, gentlemen?" says she, in a surprisin' steady voice. "ISthis an execution?" "It is, mum, " says Fixem. The lady looked athim as steady as ever: she didn't seem to have understood him. "It is, mum, " says Fixem again; "this is my warrant of distress, mum, " says he, handing it over as polite as if it was a newspaperwhich had been bespoke arter the next gentleman. 

'The lady's lip trembled as she took the printed paper. She casther eye over it, and old Fixem began to explain the form, but sawshe wasn't reading it, plain enough, poor thing. "Oh, my God!"says she, suddenly a-bursting out crying, letting the warrant fall, and hiding her face in her hands. "Oh, my God! what will become ofus!" The noise she made, brought in a young lady of about nineteenor twenty, who, I suppose, had been a-listening at the door, andwho had got a little boy in her arms: she sat him down in thelady's lap, without speaking, and she hugged the poor little fellowto her bosom, and cried over him, till even old Fixem put on hisblue spectacles to hide the two tears, that was a-trickling down, one on each side of his dirty face. "Now, dear ma, " says the younglady, "you know how much you have borne. For all our sakes--forpa's sake, " says she, "don't give way to this!"--"No, no, I won't!"says the lady, gathering herself up, hastily, and drying her eyes;"I am very foolish, but I'm better now--much better. " And then sheroused herself up, went with us into every room while we took theinventory, opened all the drawers of her own accord, sorted thechildren's little clothes to make the work easier; and, exceptdoing everything in a strange sort of hurry, seemed as calm andcomposed as if nothing had happened. When we came down-stairsagain, she hesitated a minute or two, and at last says, "Gentlemen, " says she, "I am afraid I have done wrong, and perhapsit may bring you into trouble. I secreted just now, " she says, "the only trinket I have left in the world--here it is. " So shelays down on the table a little miniature mounted in gold. "It's aminiature, " she says, "of my poor dear father! I little thoughtonce, that I should ever thank God for depriving me of theoriginal, but I do, and have done for years back, most fervently. Take it away, sir, " she says, "it's a face that never turned fromme in sickness and distress, and I can hardly bear to turn from itnow, when, God knows, I suffer both in no ordinary degree. " Icouldn't say nothing, but I raised my head from the inventory whichI was filling up, and looked at Fixem; the old fellow nodded to mesignificantly, so I ran my pen through the "MINI" I had justwritten, and left the miniature on the table. 

'Well, sir, to make short of a long story, I was left inpossession, and in possession I remained; and though I was anignorant man, and the master of the house a clever one, I saw whathe never did, but what he would give worlds now (if he had 'em) tohave seen in time. I saw, sir, that his wife was wasting away, beneath cares of which she never complained, and griefs she nevertold. I saw that she was dying before his eyes; I knew that oneexertion from him might have saved her, but he never made it. Idon't blame him: I don't think he COULD rouse himself. She had solong anticipated all his wishes, and acted for him, that he was alost man when left to himself. I used to think when I caught sightof her, in the clothes she used to wear, which looked shabby evenupon her, and would have been scarcely decent on any one else, thatif I was a gentleman it would wring my very heart to see the womanthat was a smart and merry girl when I courted her, so alteredthrough her love for me. Bitter cold and damp weather it was, yet, though her dress was thin, and her shoes none of the best, duringthe whole three days, from morning to night, she was out of doorsrunning about to try and raise the money. The money WAS raised andthe execution was paid out. The whole family crowded into the roomwhere I was, when the money arrived. The father was quite happy asthe inconvenience was removed--I dare say he didn't know how; thechildren looked merry and cheerful again; the eldest girl wasbustling about, making preparations for the first comfortable mealthey had had since the distress was put in; and the mother lookedpleased to see them all so. But if ever I saw death in a woman'sface, I saw it in hers that night. 

'I was right, sir, ' continued Mr. Bung, hurriedly passing his coat-sleeve over his face; 'the family grew more prosperous, and goodfortune arrived. But it was too late. Those children aremotherless now, and their father would give up all he has sincegained--house, home, goods, money: all that he has, or ever canhave, to restore the wife he has lost. '

CHAPTER VI--THE LADIES' SOCIETIES

Our Parish is very prolific in ladies' charitable institutions. Inwinter, when wet feet are common, and colds not scarce, we have theladies' soup distribution society, the ladies' coal distributionsociety, and the ladies' blanket distribution society; in summer, when stone fruits flourish and stomach aches prevail, we have theladies' dispensary, and the ladies' sick visitation committee; andall the year round we have the ladies' child's examination society, the ladies' bible and prayer-book circulation society, and theladies' childbed-linen monthly loan society. The two latter aredecidedly the most important; whether they are productive of morebenefit than the rest, it is not for us to say, but we can takeupon ourselves to affirm, with the utmost solemnity, that theycreate a greater stir and more bustle, than all the others puttogether. 

We should be disposed to affirm, on the first blush of the matter, that the bible and prayer-book society is not so popular as thechildbed-linen society; the bible and prayer-book society has, however, considerably increased in importance within the last yearor two, having derived some adventitious aid from the factiousopposition of the child's examination society; which factiousopposition originated in manner following:- When the young curatewas popular, and all the unmarried ladies in the parish took aserious turn, the charity children all at once became objects ofpeculiar and especial interest. The three Miss Browns(enthusiastic admirers of the curate) taught, and exercised, andexamined, and re-examined the unfortunate children, until the boysgrew pale, and the girls consumptive with study and fatigue. Thethree Miss Browns stood it out very well, because they relievedeach other; but the children, having no relief at all, exhibiteddecided symptoms of weariness and care. The unthinking part of theparishioners laughed at all this, but the more reflective portionof the inhabitants abstained from expressing any opinion on thesubject until that of the curate had been clearly ascertained. 

The opportunity was not long wanting. The curate preached acharity sermon on behalf of the charity school, and in the charitysermon aforesaid, expatiated in glowing terms on the praiseworthyand indefatigable exertions of certain estimable individuals. Sobswere heard to issue from the three Miss Browns' pew; the pew-openerof the division was seen to hurry down the centre aisle to thevestry door, and to return immediately, bearing a glass of water inher hand. A low moaning ensued; two more pew-openers rushed to thespot, and the three Miss Browns, each supported by a pew-opener, were led out of the church, and led in again after the lapse offive minutes with white pocket-handkerchiefs to their eyes, as ifthey had been attending a funeral in the churchyard adjoining. Ifany doubt had for a moment existed, as to whom the allusion wasintended to apply, it was at once removed. The wish to enlightenthe charity children became universal, and the three Miss Brownswere unanimously besought to divide the school into classes, and toassign each class to the superintendence of two young ladies. 

A little learning is a dangerous thing, but a little patronage ismore so; the three Miss Browns appointed all the old maids, andcarefully excluded the young ones. Maiden aunts triumphed, mammaswere reduced to the lowest depths of despair, and there is notelling in what act of violence the general indignation against thethree Miss Browns might have vented itself, had not a perfectlyprovidential occurrence changed the tide of public feeling. Mrs. Johnson Parker, the mother of seven extremely fine girls--allunmarried--hastily reported to several other mammas of severalother unmarried families, that five old men, six old women, andchildren innumerable, in the free seats near her pew, were in thehabit of coming to church every Sunday, without either bible orprayer-book. Was this to be borne in a civilised country? Couldsuch things be tolerated in a Christian land? Never! A ladies'bible and prayer-book distribution society was instantly formed:president, Mrs. Johnson Parker; treasurers, auditors, andsecretary, the Misses Johnson Parker: subscriptions were enteredinto, books were bought, all the free-seat people providedtherewith, and when the first lesson was given out, on the firstSunday succeeding these events, there was such a dropping of books, and rustling of leaves, that it was morally impossible to hear oneword of the service for five minutes afterwards. 

The three Miss Browns, and their party, saw the approaching danger, and endeavoured to avert it by ridicule and sarcasm. Neither theold men nor the old women could read their books, now they had gotthem, said the three Miss Browns. Never mind; they could learn, replied Mrs. Johnson Parker. The children couldn't read either, suggested the three Miss Browns. No matter; they could be taught, retorted Mrs. Johnson Parker. A balance of parties took place. The Miss Browns publicly examined--popular feeling inclined to thechild's examination society. The Miss Johnson Parkers publiclydistributed--a reaction took place in favour of the prayer-bookdistribution. A feather would have turned the scale, and a featherdid turn it. A missionary returned from the West Indies; he was tobe presented to the Dissenters' Missionary Society on his marriagewith a wealthy widow. Overtures were made to the Dissenters by theJohnson Parkers. Their object was the same, and why not have ajoint meeting of the two societies? The proposition was accepted. The meeting was duly heralded by public announcement, and the roomwas crowded to suffocation. The Missionary appeared on theplatform; he was hailed with enthusiasm. He repeated a dialogue hehad heard between two negroes, behind a hedge, on the subject ofdistribution societies; the approbation was tumultuous. He gave animitation of the two negroes in broken English; the roof was rentwith applause. From that period we date (with one triflingexception) a daily increase in the popularity of the distributionsociety, and an increase of popularity, which the feeble andimpotent opposition of the examination party, has only tended toaugment. 

Now, the great points about the childbed-linen monthly loan societyare, that it is less dependent on the fluctuations of publicopinion than either the distribution or the child's examination;and that, come what may, there is never any lack of objects onwhich to exercise its benevolence. Our parish is a very populousone, and, if anything, contributes, we should be disposed to say, rather more than its due share to the aggregate amount of births inthe metropolis and its environs. The consequence is, that themonthly loan society flourishes, and invests its members with amost enviable amount of bustling patronage. The society (whoseonly notion of dividing time, would appear to be its allotment intomonths) holds monthly tea-drinkings, at which the monthly report isreceived, a secretary elected for the month ensuing, and such ofthe monthly boxes as may not happen to be out on loan for themonth, carefully examined. 

We were never present at one of these meetings, from all of whichit is scarcely necessary to say, gentlemen are carefully excluded;but Mr. Bung has been called before the board once or twice, and wehave his authority for stating, that its proceedings are conductedwith great order and regularity: not more than four members beingallowed to speak at one time on any pretence whatever. The regularcommittee is composed exclusively of married ladies, but a vastnumber of young unmarried ladies of from eighteen to twenty-fiveyears of age, respectively, are admitted as honorary members, partly because they are very useful in replenishing the boxes, andvisiting the confined; partly because it is highly desirable thatthey should be initiated, at an early period, into the more seriousand matronly duties of after-life; and partly, because prudentmammas have not unfrequently been known to turn this circumstanceto wonderfully good account in matrimonial speculations. 

In addition to the loan of the monthly boxes (which are alwayspainted blue, with the name of the society in large white letterson the lid), the society dispense occasional grants of beef-tea, and a composition of warm beer, spice, eggs, and sugar, commonlyknown by the name of 'candle, ' to its patients. And here again theservices of the honorary members are called into requisition, andmost cheerfully conceded. Deputations of twos or threes are sentout to visit the patients, and on these occasions there is such atasting of candle and beef-tea, such a stirring about of littlemesses in tiny saucepans on the hob, such a dressing and undressingof infants, such a tying, and folding, and pinning; such a nursingand warming of little legs and feet before the fire, such adelightful confusion of talking and cooking, bustle, importance, and officiousness, as never can be enjoyed in its full extent buton similar occasions. 

In rivalry of these two institutions, and as a last expiring effortto acquire parochial popularity, the child's examination peopledetermined, the other day, on having a grand public examination ofthe pupils; and the large school-room of the national seminary was, by and with the consent of the parish authorities, devoted to thepurpose. Invitation circulars were forwarded to all the principalparishioners, including, of course, the heads of the other twosocieties, for whose especial behoof and edification the displaywas intended; and a large audience was confidently anticipated onthe occasion. The floor was carefully scrubbed the day before, under the immediate superintendence of the three Miss Browns; formswere placed across the room for the accommodation of the visitors, specimens in writing were carefully selected, and as carefullypatched and touched up, until they astonished the children who hadwritten them, rather more than the company who read them; sums incompound addition were rehearsed and re-rehearsed until all thechildren had the totals by heart; and the preparations altogetherwere on the most laborious and most comprehensive scale. Themorning arrived: the children were yellow-soaped and flannelled, and towelled, till their faces shone again; every pupil's hair wascarefully combed into his or her eyes, as the case might be; thegirls were adorned with snow-white tippets, and caps bound roundthe head by a single purple ribbon: the necks of the elder boyswere fixed into collars of startling dimensions. 

The doors were thrown open, and the Misses Brown and Co. Werediscovered in plain white muslin dresses, and caps of the same--thechild's examination uniform. The room filled: the greetings ofthe company were loud and cordial. The distributionists trembled, for their popularity was at stake. The eldest boy fell forward, and delivered a propitiatory address from behind his collar. Itwas from the pen of Mr. Henry Brown; the applause was universal, and the Johnson Parkers were aghast. The examination proceededwith success, and terminated in triumph. The child's examinationsociety gained a momentary victory, and the Johnson Parkersretreated in despair. 

A secret council of the distributionists was held that night, withMrs. Johnson Parker in the chair, to consider of the best means ofrecovering the ground they had lost in the favour of the parish. What could be done? Another meeting! Alas! who was to attend it?The Missionary would not do twice; and the slaves were emancipated. A bold step must be taken. The parish must be astonished in someway or other; but no one was able to suggest what the step shouldbe. At length, a very old lady was heard to mumble, in indistincttones, 'Exeter Hall. ' A sudden light broke in upon the meeting. It was unanimously resolved, that a deputation of old ladies shouldwait upon a celebrated orator, imploring his assistance, and thefavour of a speech; and the deputation should also wait on two orthree other imbecile old women, not resident in the parish, andentreat their attendance. The application was successful, themeeting was held; the orator (an Irishman) came. He talked ofgreen isles--other shores--vast Atlantic--bosom of the deep--Christian charity--blood and extermination--mercy in hearts--armsin hands--altars and homes--household gods. He wiped his eyes, heblew his nose, and he quoted Latin. The effect was tremendous--theLatin was a decided hit. Nobody knew exactly what it was about, but everybody knew it must be affecting, because even the oratorwas overcome. The popularity of the distribution society among theladies of our parish is unprecedented; and the child's examinationis going fast to decay. 

CHAPTER VII--OUR NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOUR

We are very fond of speculating as we walk through a street, on thecharacter and pursuits of the people who inhabit it; and nothing somaterially assists us in these speculations as the appearance ofthe house doors. The various expressions of the human countenanceafford a beautiful and interesting study; but there is something inthe physiognomy of street-door knockers, almost as characteristic, and nearly as infallible. Whenever we visit a man for the firsttime, we contemplate the features of his knocker with the greatestcuriosity, for we well know, that between the man and his knocker, there will inevitably be a greater or less degree of resemblanceand sympathy. 

For instance, there is one description of knocker that used to becommon enough, but which is fast passing away--a large round one, with the jolly face of a convivial lion smiling blandly at you, asyou twist the sides of your hair into a curl or pull up your shirt-collar while you are waiting for the door to be opened; we neversaw that knocker on the door of a churlish man--so far as ourexperience is concerned, it invariably bespoke hospitality andanother bottle. 

No man ever saw this knocker on the door of a small attorney orbill-broker; they always patronise the other lion; a heavyferocious-looking fellow, with a countenance expressive of savagestupidity--a sort of grand master among the knockers, and a greatfavourite with the selfish and brutal. 

Then there is a little pert Egyptian knocker, with a long thinface, a pinched-up nose, and a very sharp chin; he is most in voguewith your government-office people, in light drabs and starchedcravats; little spare, priggish men, who are perfectly satisfiedwith their own opinions, and consider themselves of paramountimportance. 

We were greatly troubled a few years ago, by the innovation of anew kind of knocker, without any face at all, composed of a wreathdepending from a hand or small truncheon. A little trouble andattention, however, enabled us to overcome this difficulty, and toreconcile the new system to our favourite theory. You willinvariably find this knocker on the doors of cold and formalpeople, who always ask you why you DON'T come, and never say DO. 

Everybody knows the brass knocker is common to suburban villas, andextensive boarding-schools; and having noticed this genus we haverecapitulated all the most prominent and strongly-defined species. 

Some phrenologists affirm, that the agitation of a man's brain bydifferent passions, produces corresponding developments in the formof his skull. Do not let us be understood as pushing our theory tothe full length of asserting, that any alteration in a man'sdisposition would produce a visible effect on the feature of hisknocker. Our position merely is, that in such a case, themagnetism which must exist between a man and his knocker, wouldinduce the man to remove, and seek some knocker more congenial tohis altered feelings. If you ever find a man changing hishabitation without any reasonable pretext, depend upon it, that, although he may not be aware of the fact himself, it is because heand his knocker are at variance. This is a new theory, but weventure to launch it, nevertheless, as being quite as ingenious andinfallible as many thousands of the learned speculations which aredaily broached for public good and private fortune-making. 

Entertaining these feelings on the subject of knockers, it will bereadily imagined with what consternation we viewed the entireremoval of the knocker from the door of the next house to the onewe lived in, some time ago, and the substitution of a bell. Thiswas a calamity we had never anticipated. The bare idea of anybodybeing able to exist without a knocker, appeared so wild andvisionary, that it had never for one instant entered ourimagination. 

We sauntered moodily from the spot, and bent our steps towardsEaton-square, then just building. What was our astonishment andindignation to find that bells were fast becoming the rule, andknockers the exception! Our theory trembled beneath the shock. Wehastened home; and fancying we foresaw in the swift progress ofevents, its entire abolition, resolved from that day forward tovent our speculations on our next-door neighbours in person. Thehouse adjoining ours on the left hand was uninhabited, and we had, therefore, plenty of leisure to observe our next-door neighbours onthe other side. 

The house without the knocker was in the occupation of a cityclerk, and there was a neatly-written bill in the parlour windowintimating that lodgings for a single gentleman were to be letwithin. 

It was a neat, dull little house, on the shady side of the way, with new, narrow floorcloth in the passage, and new, narrow stair-carpets up to the first floor. The paper was new, and the paintwas new, and the furniture was new; and all three, paper, paint, and furniture, bespoke the limited means of the tenant. There wasa little red and black carpet in the drawing-room, with a border offlooring all the way round; a few stained chairs and a pembroketable. A pink shell was displayed on each of the littlesideboards, which, with the addition of a tea-tray and caddy, a fewmore shells on the mantelpiece, and three peacock's featherstastefully arranged above them, completed the decorative furnitureof the apartment. 

This was the room destined for the reception of the singlegentleman during the day, and a little back room on the same floorwas assigned as his sleeping apartment by night. 

The bill had not been long in the window, when a stout, good-humoured looking gentleman, of about five-and-thirty, appeared as acandidate for the tenancy. Terms were soon arranged, for the billwas taken down immediately after his first visit. In a day or twothe single gentleman came in, and shortly afterwards his realcharacter came out. 

First of all, he displayed a most extraordinary partiality forsitting up till three or four o'clock in the morning, drinkingwhiskey-and-water, and smoking cigars; then he invited friendshome, who used to come at ten o'clock, and begin to get happy aboutthe small hours, when they evinced their perfect contentment bysinging songs with half-a-dozen verses of two lines each, and achorus of ten, which chorus used to be shouted forth by the wholestrength of the company, in the most enthusiastic and vociferousmanner, to the great annoyance of the neighbours, and the specialdiscomfort of another single gentleman overhead. 

Now, this was bad enough, occurring as it did three times a week onthe average, but this was not all; for when the company DID goaway, instead of walking quietly down the street, as anybody else'scompany would have done, they amused themselves by making alarmingand frightful noises, and counterfeiting the shrieks of females indistress; and one night, a red-faced gentleman in a white hatknocked in the most urgent manner at the door of the powdered-headed old gentleman at No. 3, and when the powdered-headed oldgentleman, who thought one of his married daughters must have beentaken ill prematurely, had groped down-stairs, and after a greatdeal of unbolting and key-turning, opened the street door, the red-faced man in the white hat said he hoped he'd excuse his giving himso much trouble, but he'd feel obliged if he'd favour him with aglass of cold spring water, and the loan of a shilling for a cab totake him home, on which the old gentleman slammed the door and wentup-stairs, and threw the contents of his water jug out of window--very straight, only it went over the wrong man; and the wholestreet was involved in confusion. 

A joke's a joke; and even practical jests are very capital in theirway, if you can only get the other party to see the fun of them;but the population of our street were so dull of apprehension, asto be quite lost to a sense of the drollery of this proceeding:and the consequence was, that our next-door neighbour was obligedto tell the single gentleman, that unless he gave up entertaininghis friends at home, he really must be compelled to part with him. 

The single gentleman received the remonstrance with great good-humour, and promised from that time forward, to spend his eveningsat a coffee-house--a determination which afforded general andunmixed satisfaction. 

The next night passed off very well, everybody being delighted withthe change; but on the next, the noises were renewed with greaterspirit than ever. The single gentleman's friends being unable tosee him in his own house every alternate night, had come to thedetermination of seeing him home every night; and what with thediscordant greetings of the friends at parting, and the noisecreated by the single gentleman in his passage up-stairs, and hissubsequent struggles to get his boots off, the evil was not to beborne. So, our next-door neighbour gave the single gentleman, whowas a very good lodger in other respects, notice to quit; and thesingle gentleman went away, and entertained his friends in otherlodgings. 

The next applicant for the vacant first floor, was of a verydifferent character from the troublesome single gentleman who hadjust quitted it. He was a tall, thin, young gentleman, with aprofusion of brown hair, reddish whiskers, and very slightlydeveloped moustaches. He wore a braided surtout, with frogsbehind, light grey trousers, and wash-leather gloves, and hadaltogether rather a military appearance. So unlike the roysteringsingle gentleman. Such insinuating manners, and such a delightfuladdress! So seriously disposed, too! When he first came to lookat the lodgings, he inquired most particularly whether he was sureto be able to get a seat in the parish church; and when he hadagreed to take them, he requested to have a list of the differentlocal charities, as he intended to subscribe his mite to the mostdeserving among them. 

Our next-door neighbour was now perfectly happy. He had got alodger at last, of just his own way of thinking--a serious, well-disposed man, who abhorred gaiety, and loved retirement. He tookdown the bill with a light heart, and pictured in imagination along series of quiet Sundays, on which he and his lodger wouldexchange mutual civilities and Sunday papers. 

The serious man arrived, and his luggage was to arrive from thecountry next morning. He borrowed a clean shirt, and a prayer-book, from our next-door neighbour, and retired to rest at an earlyhour, requesting that he might be called punctually at ten o'clocknext morning--not before, as he was much fatigued. 

He WAS called, and did not answer: he was called again, but therewas no reply. Our next-door neighbour became alarmed, and burstthe door open. The serious man had left the house mysteriously;carrying with him the shirt, the prayer-book, a teaspoon, and thebedclothes. 

Whether this occurrence, coupled with the irregularities of hisformer lodger, gave our next-door neighbour an aversion to singlegentlemen, we know not; we only know that the next bill which madeits appearance in the parlour window intimated generally, thatthere were furnished apartments to let on the first floor. Thebill was soon removed. The new lodgers at first attracted ourcuriosity, and afterwards excited our interest. 

They were a young lad of eighteen or nineteen, and his mother, alady of about fifty, or it might be less. The mother wore awidow's weeds, and the boy was also clothed in deep mourning. Theywere poor--very poor; for their only means of support arose fromthe pittance the boy earned, by copying writings, and translatingfor booksellers. 

They had removed from some country place and settled in London;partly because it afforded better chances of employment for theboy, and partly, perhaps, with the natural desire to leave a placewhere they had been in better circumstances, and where theirpoverty was known. They were proud under their reverses, and aboverevealing their wants and privations to strangers. How bitterthose privations were, and how hard the boy worked to remove them, no one ever knew but themselves. Night after night, two, three, four hours after midnight, could we hear the occasional raking upof the scanty fire, or the hollow and half-stifled cough, whichindicated his being still at work; and day after day, could we seemore plainly that nature had set that unearthly light in hisplaintive face, which is the beacon of her worst disease. 

Actuated, we hope, by a higher feeling than mere curiosity, wecontrived to establish, first an acquaintance, and then a closeintimacy, with the poor strangers. Our worst fears were realised;the boy was sinking fast. Through a part of the winter, and thewhole of the following spring and summer, his labours wereunceasingly prolonged: and the mother attempted to procure needle-work, embroidery--anything for bread. 

A few shillings now and then, were all she could earn. The boyworked steadily on; dying by minutes, but never once givingutterance to complaint or murmur. 

One beautiful autumn evening we went to pay our customary visit tothe invalid. His little remaining strength had been decreasingrapidly for two or three days preceding, and he was lying on thesofa at the open window, gazing at the setting sun. His mother hadbeen reading the Bible to him, for she closed the book as weentered, and advanced to meet us. 

'I was telling William, ' she said, 'that we must manage to take himinto the country somewhere, so that he may get quite well. He isnot ill, you know, but he is not very strong, and has exertedhimself too much lately. ' Poor thing! The tears that streamedthrough her fingers, as she turned aside, as if to adjust her closewidow's cap, too plainly showed how fruitless was the attempt todeceive herself. 

We sat down by the head of the sofa, but said nothing, for we sawthe breath of life was passing gently but rapidly from the youngform before us. At every respiration, his heart beat more slowly. 

The boy placed one hand in ours, grasped his mother's arm with theother, drew her hastily towards him, and fervently kissed hercheek. There was a pause. He sunk back upon his pillow, andlooked long and earnestly in his mother's face. 

'William, William!' murmured the mother, after a long interval, 'don't look at me so--speak to me, dear!'

The boy smiled languidly, but an instant afterwards his featuresresolved into the same cold, solemn gaze. 

'William, dear William! rouse yourself; don't look at me so, love--pray don't! Oh, my God! what shall I do!' cried the widow, clasping her hands in agony--'my dear boy! he is dying!' The boyraised himself by a violent effort, and folded his hands together--'Mother! dear, dear mother, bury me in the open fields--anywherebut in these dreadful streets. I should like to be where you cansee my grave, but not in these close crowded streets; they havekilled me; kiss me again, mother; put your arm round my neck--'

He fell back, and a strange expression stole upon his features; notof pain or suffering, but an indescribable fixing of every line andmuscle. 

The boy was dead. 

SCENES

CHAPTER I--THE STREETS--MORNING

The appearance presented by the streets of London an hour beforesunrise, on a summer's morning, is most striking even to the fewwhose unfortunate pursuits of pleasure, or scarcely lessunfortunate pursuits of business, cause them to be well acquaintedwith the scene. There is an air of cold, solitary desolation aboutthe noiseless streets which we are accustomed to see thronged atother times by a busy, eager crowd, and over the quiet, closely-shut buildings, which throughout the day are swarming with life andbustle, that is very impressive. 

The last drunken man, who shall find his way home before sunlight, has just staggered heavily along, roaring out the burden of thedrinking song of the previous night: the last houseless vagrantwhom penury and police have left in the streets, has coiled up hischilly limbs in some paved comer, to dream of food and warmth. Thedrunken, the dissipated, and the wretched have disappeared; themore sober and orderly part of the population have not yet awakenedto the labours of the day, and the stillness of death is over thestreets; its very hue seems to be imparted to them, cold andlifeless as they look in the grey, sombre light of daybreak. Thecoach-stands in the larger thoroughfares are deserted: the night-houses are closed; and the chosen promenades of profligate miseryare empty. 

An occasional policeman may alone be seen at the street corners, listlessly gazing on the deserted prospect before him; and now andthen a rakish-looking cat runs stealthily across the road anddescends his own area with as much caution and slyness--boundingfirst on the water-butt, then on the dust-hole, and then alightingon the flag-stones--as if he were conscious that his characterdepended on his gallantry of the preceding night escaping publicobservation. A partially opened bedroom-window here and there, bespeaks the heat of the weather, and the uneasy slumbers of itsoccupant; and the dim scanty flicker of the rushlight, through thewindow-blind, denotes the chamber of watching or sickness. Withthese few exceptions, the streets present no signs of life, nor thehouses of habitation. 

An hour wears away; the spires of the churches and roofs of theprincipal buildings are faintly tinged with the light of the risingsun; and the streets, by almost imperceptible degrees, begin toresume their bustle and animation. Market-carts roll slowly along:the sleepy waggoner impatiently urging on his tired horses, orvainly endeavouring to awaken the boy, who, luxuriously stretchedon the top of the fruit-baskets, forgets, in happy oblivion, hislong-cherished curiosity to behold the wonders of London. 

Rough, sleepy-looking animals of strange appearance, somethingbetween ostlers and hackney-coachmen, begin to take down theshutters of early public-houses; and little deal tables, with theordinary preparations for a street breakfast, make their appearanceat the customary stations. Numbers of men and women (principallythe latter), carrying upon their heads heavy baskets of fruit, toildown the park side of Piccadilly, on their way to Covent-garden, and, following each other in rapid succession, form a longstraggling line from thence to the turn of the road atKnightsbridge. 

Here and there, a bricklayer's labourer, with the day's dinner tiedup in a handkerchief, walks briskly to his work, and occasionally alittle knot of three or four schoolboys on a stolen bathingexpedition rattle merrily over the pavement, their boisterous mirthcontrasting forcibly with the demeanour of the little sweep, who, having knocked and rung till his arm aches, and being interdictedby a merciful legislature from endangering his lungs by callingout, sits patiently down on the door-step, until the housemaid mayhappen to awake. 

Covent-garden market, and the avenues leading to it, are throngedwith carts of all sorts, sizes, and descriptions, from the heavylumbering waggon, with its four stout horses, to the jinglingcostermonger's cart, with its consumptive donkey. The pavement isalready strewed with decayed cabbage-leaves, broken hay-bands, andall the indescribable litter of a vegetable market; men areshouting, carts backing, horses neighing, boys fighting, basket-women talking, piemen expatiating on the excellence of theirpastry, and donkeys braying. These and a hundred other sounds forma compound discordant enough to a Londoner's ears, and remarkablydisagreeable to those of country gentlemen who are sleeping at theHummums for the first time. 

Another hour passes away, and the day begins in good earnest. Theservant of all work, who, under the plea of sleeping very soundly, has utterly disregarded 'Missis's' ringing for half an hourpreviously, is warned by Master (whom Missis has sent up in hisdrapery to the landing-place for that purpose), that it's half-pastsix, whereupon she awakes all of a sudden, with well-feignedastonishment, and goes down-stairs very sulkily, wishing, while shestrikes a light, that the principle of spontaneous combustion wouldextend itself to coals and kitchen range. When the fire islighted, she opens the street-door to take in the milk, when, bythe most singular coincidence in the world, she discovers that theservant next door has just taken in her milk too, and that Mr. Todd's young man over the way, is, by an equally extraordinarychance, taking down his master's shutters. The inevitableconsequence is, that she just steps, milk-jug in hand, as far asnext door, just to say 'good morning' to Betsy Clark, and that Mr. Todd's young man just steps over the way to say 'good morning' toboth of 'em; and as the aforesaid Mr. Todd's young man is almost asgood-looking and fascinating as the baker himself, the conversationquickly becomes very interesting, and probably would become moreso, if Betsy Clark's Missis, who always will be a-followin' herabout, didn't give an angry tap at her bedroom window, on which Mr. Todd's young man tries to whistle coolly, as he goes back to hisshop much faster than he came from it; and the two girls run backto their respective places, and shut their street-doors withsurprising softness, each of them poking their heads out of thefront parlour window, a minute afterwards, however, ostensibly withthe view of looking at the mail which just then passes by, butreally for the purpose of catching another glimpse of Mr. Todd'syoung man, who being fond of mails, but more of females, takes ashort look at the mails, and a long look at the girls, much to thesatisfaction of all parties concerned. 

The mail itself goes on to the coach-office in due course, and thepassengers who are going out by the early coach, stare withastonishment at the passengers who are coming in by the earlycoach, who look blue and dismal, and are evidently under theinfluence of that odd feeling produced by travelling, which makesthe events of yesterday morning seem as if they had happened atleast six months ago, and induces people to wonder withconsiderable gravity whether the friends and relations they tookleave of a fortnight before, have altered much since they have leftthem. The coach-office is all alive, and the coaches which arejust going out, are surrounded by the usual crowd of Jews andnondescripts, who seem to consider, Heaven knows why, that it isquite impossible any man can mount a coach without requiring atleast sixpenny-worth of oranges, a penknife, a pocket-book, a lastyear's annual, a pencil-case, a piece of sponge, and a small seriesof caricatures. 

Half an hour more, and the sun darts his bright rays cheerfullydown the still half-empty streets, and shines with sufficient forceto rouse the dismal laziness of the apprentice, who pauses everyother minute from his task of sweeping out the shop and wateringthe pavement in front of it, to tell another apprentice similarlyemployed, how hot it will be to-day, or to stand with his righthand shading his eyes, and his left resting on the broom, gazing atthe 'Wonder, ' or the 'Tally-ho, ' or the 'Nimrod, ' or some otherfast coach, till it is out of sight, when he re-enters the shop, envying the passengers on the outside of the fast coach, andthinking of the old red brick house 'down in the country, ' where hewent to school: the miseries of the milk and water, and thickbread and scrapings, fading into nothing before the pleasantrecollection of the green field the boys used to play in, and thegreen pond he was caned for presuming to fall into, and otherschoolboy associations. 

Cabs, with trunks and band-boxes between the drivers' legs andoutside the apron, rattle briskly up and down the streets on theirway to the coach-offices or steam-packet wharfs; and the cab-drivers and hackney-coachmen who are on the stand polish up theornamental part of their dingy vehicles--the former wondering howpeople can prefer 'them wild beast cariwans of homnibuses, to ariglar cab with a fast trotter, ' and the latter admiring how peoplecan trust their necks into one of 'them crazy cabs, when they canhave a 'spectable 'ackney cotche with a pair of 'orses as von't runaway with no vun;' a consolation unquestionably founded on fact, seeing that a hackney-coach horse never was known to run at all, 'except, ' as the smart cabman in front of the rank observes, 'except one, and HE run back'ards. '

The shops are now completely opened, and apprentices and shopmenare busily engaged in cleaning and decking the windows for the day. The bakers' shops in town are filled with servants and childrenwaiting for the drawing of the first batch of rolls--an operationwhich was performed a full hour ago in the suburbs: for the earlyclerk population of Somers and Camden towns, Islington, andPentonville, are fast pouring into the city, or directing theirsteps towards Chancery-lane and the Inns of Court. Middle-agedmen, whose salaries have by no means increased in the sameproportion as their families, plod steadily along, apparently withno object in view but the counting-house; knowing by sight almosteverybody they meet or overtake, for they have seen them everymorning (Sunday excepted) during the last twenty years, butspeaking to no one. If they do happen to overtake a personalacquaintance, they just exchange a hurried salutation, and keepwalking on either by his side, or in front of him, as his rate ofwalking may chance to be. As to stopping to shake hands, or totake the friend's arm, they seem to think that as it is notincluded in their salary, they have no right to do it. Smalloffice lads in large hats, who are made men before they are boys, hurry along in pairs, with their first coat carefully brushed, andthe white trousers of last Sunday plentifully besmeared with dustand ink. It evidently requires a considerable mental struggle toavoid investing part of the day's dinner-money in the purchase ofthe stale tarts so temptingly exposed in dusty tins at the pastry-cooks' doors; but a consciousness of their own importance and thereceipt of seven shillings a-week, with the prospect of an earlyrise to eight, comes to their aid, and they accordingly put theirhats a little more on one side, and look under the bonnets of allthe milliners' and stay-makers' apprentices they meet--poor girls!--the hardest worked, the worst paid, and too often, the worst usedclass of the community. 

Eleven o'clock, and a new set of people fill the streets. Thegoods in the shop-windows are invitingly arranged; the shopmen intheir white neckerchiefs and spruce coats, look as it they couldn'tclean a window if their lives depended on it; the carts havedisappeared from Covent-garden; the waggoners have returned, andthe costermongers repaired to their ordinary 'beats' in thesuburbs; clerks are at their offices, and gigs, cabs, omnibuses, and saddle-horses, are conveying their masters to the samedestination. The streets are thronged with a vast concourse ofpeople, gay and shabby, rich and poor, idle and industrious; and wecome to the heat, bustle, and activity of NOON. 

CHAPTER II--THE STREETS--NIGHT

But the streets of London, to be beheld in the very height of theirglory, should be seen on a dark, dull, murky winter's night, whenthere is just enough damp gently stealing down to make the pavementgreasy, without cleansing it of any of its impurities; and when theheavy lazy mist, which hangs over every object, makes the gas-lampslook brighter, and the brilliantly-lighted shops more splendid, from the contrast they present to the darkness around. All thepeople who are at home on such a night as this, seem disposed tomake themselves as snug and comfortable as possible; and thepassengers in the streets have excellent reason to envy thefortunate individuals who are seated by their own firesides. 

In the larger and better kind of streets, dining parlour curtainsare closely drawn, kitchen fires blaze brightly up, and savourysteams of hot dinners salute the nostrils of the hungry wayfarer, as he plods wearily by the area railings. In the suburbs, themuffin boy rings his way down the little street, much more slowlythan he is wont to do; for Mrs. Macklin, of No. 4, has no sooneropened her little street-door, and screamed out 'Muffins!' with allher might, than Mrs. Walker, at No. 5, puts her head out of theparlour-window, and screams 'Muffins!' too; and Mrs. Walker hasscarcely got the words out of her lips, than Mrs. Peplow, over theway, lets loose Master Peplow, who darts down the street, with avelocity which nothing but buttered muffins in perspective couldpossibly inspire, and drags the boy back by main force, whereuponMrs. Macklin and Mrs. Walker, just to save the boy trouble, and tosay a few neighbourly words to Mrs. Peplow at the same time, runover the way and buy their muffins at Mrs. Peplow's door, when itappears from the voluntary statement of Mrs. Walker, that her'kittle's jist a-biling, and the cups and sarsers ready laid, ' andthat, as it was such a wretched night out o' doors, she'd made upher mind to have a nice, hot, comfortable cup o' tea--adetermination at which, by the most singular coincidence, the othertwo ladies had simultaneously arrived. 

After a little conversation about the wretchedness of the weatherand the merits of tea, with a digression relative to theviciousness of boys as a rule, and the amiability of Master Peplowas an exception, Mrs. Walker sees her husband coming down thestreet; and as he must want his tea, poor man, after his dirty walkfrom the Docks, she instantly runs across, muffins in hand, andMrs. Macklin does the same, and after a few words to Mrs. Walker, they all pop into their little houses, and slam their littlestreet-doors, which are not opened again for the remainder of theevening, except to the nine o'clock 'beer, ' who comes round with alantern in front of his tray, and says, as he lends Mrs. Walker'Yesterday's 'Tiser, ' that he's blessed if he can hardly hold thepot, much less feel the paper, for it's one of the bitterest nightshe ever felt, 'cept the night when the man was frozen to death inthe Brick-field. 

After a little prophetic conversation with the policeman at thestreet-corner, touching a probable change in the weather, and thesetting-in of a hard frost, the nine o'clock beer returns to hismaster's house, and employs himself for the remainder of theevening, in assiduously stirring the tap-room fire, anddeferentially taking part in the conversation of the worthiesassembled round it. 

The streets in the vicinity of the Marsh-gate and Victoria Theatrepresent an appearance of dirt and discomfort on such a night, whichthe groups who lounge about them in no degree tend to diminish. Even the little block-tin temple sacred to baked potatoes, surmounted by a splendid design in variegated lamps, looks less gaythan usual, and as to the kidney-pie stand, its glory has quitedeparted. The candle in the transparent lamp, manufactured of oil-paper, embellished with 'characters, ' has been blown out fiftytimes, so the kidney-pie merchant, tired with running backwards andforwards to the next wine-vaults, to get a light, has given up theidea of illumination in despair, and the only signs of his'whereabout, ' are the bright sparks, of which a long irregulartrain is whirled down the street every time he opens his portableoven to hand a hot kidney-pie to a customer. 

Flat-fish, oyster, and fruit vendors linger hopelessly in thekennel, in vain endeavouring to attract customers; and the raggedboys who usually disport themselves about the streets, standcrouched in little knots in some projecting doorway, or under thecanvas blind of a cheesemonger's, where great flaring gas-lights, unshaded by any glass, display huge piles of blight red and paleyellow cheeses, mingled with little fivepenny dabs of dingy bacon, various tubs of weekly Dorset, and cloudy rolls of 'best fresh. '

Here they amuse themselves with theatrical converse, arising out oftheir last half-price visit to the Victoria gallery, admire theterrific combat, which is nightly encored, and expatiate on theinimitable manner in which Bill Thompson can 'come the doublemonkey, ' or go through the mysterious involutions of a sailor'shornpipe. 

It is nearly eleven o'clock, and the cold thin rain which has beendrizzling so long, is beginning to pour down in good earnest; thebaked-potato man has departed--the kidney-pie man has just walkedaway with his warehouse on his arm--the cheesemonger has drawn inhis blind, and the boys have dispersed. The constant clicking ofpattens on the slippy and uneven pavement, and the rustling ofumbrellas, as the wind blows against the shop-windows, beartestimony to the inclemency of the night; and the policeman, withhis oilskin cape buttoned closely round him, seems as he holds hishat on his head, and turns round to avoid the gust of wind and rainwhich drives against him at the street-corner, to be very far fromcongratulating himself on the prospect before him. 

The little chandler's shop with the cracked bell behind the door, whose melancholy tinkling has been regulated by the demand forquarterns of sugar and half-ounces of coffee, is shutting up. Thecrowds which have been passing to and fro during the whole day, arerapidly dwindling away; and the noise of shouting and quarrellingwhich issues from the public-houses, is almost the only sound thatbreaks the melancholy stillness of the night. 

There was another, but it has ceased. That wretched woman with theinfant in her arms, round whose meagre form the remnant of her ownscanty shawl is carefully wrapped, has been attempting to sing somepopular ballad, in the hope of wringing a few pence from thecompassionate passer-by. A brutal laugh at her weak voice is allshe has gained. The tears fall thick and fast down her own paleface; the child is cold and hungry, and its low half-stifledwailing adds to the misery of its wretched mother, as she moansaloud, and sinks despairingly down, on a cold damp door-step. 

Singing! How few of those who pass such a miserable creature asthis, think of the anguish of heart, the sinking of soul andspirit, which the very effort of singing produces. Bitter mockery!Disease, neglect, and starvation, faintly articulating the words ofthe joyous ditty, that has enlivened your hours of feasting andmerriment, God knows how often! It is no subject of jeering. Theweak tremulous voice tells a fearful tale of want and famishing;and the feeble singer of this roaring song may turn away, only todie of cold and hunger. 

One o'clock! Parties returning from the different theatres foot itthrough the muddy streets; cabs, hackney-coaches, carriages, andtheatre omnibuses, roll swiftly by; watermen with dim dirtylanterns in their hands, and large brass plates upon their breasts, who have been shouting and rushing about for the last two hours, retire to their watering-houses, to solace themselves with thecreature comforts of pipes and purl; the half-price pit and boxfrequenters of the theatres throng to the different houses ofrefreshment; and chops, kidneys, rabbits, oysters, stout, cigars, and 'goes' innumerable, are served up amidst a noise and confusionof smoking, running, knife-clattering, and waiter-chattering, perfectly indescribable. 

The more musical portion of the play-going community betakethemselves to some harmonic meeting. As a matter of curiosity letus follow them thither for a few moments. 

In a lofty room of spacious dimensions, are seated some eighty or ahundred guests knocking little pewter measures on the tables, andhammering away, with the handles of their knives, as if they wereso many trunk-makers. They are applauding a glee, which has justbeen executed by the three 'professional gentlemen' at the top ofthe centre table, one of whom is in the chair--the little pompousman with the bald head just emerging from the collar of his greencoat. The others are seated on either side of him--the stout manwith the small voice, and the thin-faced dark man in black. Thelittle man in the chair is a most amusing personage, --suchcondescending grandeur, and SUCH a voice!

'Bass!' as the young gentleman near us with the blue stock forciblyremarks to his companion, 'bass! I b'lieve you; he can go downlower than any man: so low sometimes that you can't hear him. 'And so he does. To hear him growling away, gradually lower andlower down, till he can't get back again, is the most delightfulthing in the world, and it is quite impossible to witness unmovedthe impressive solemnity with which he pours forth his soul in 'My'art's in the 'ighlands, ' or 'The brave old Hoak. ' The stout manis also addicted to sentimentality, and warbles 'Fly, fly from theworld, my Bessy, with me, ' or some such song, with lady-likesweetness, and in the most seductive tones imaginable. 

'Pray give your orders, gen'l'm'n--pray give your orders, '--saysthe pale-faced man with the red head; and demands for 'goes' of ginand 'goes' of brandy, and pints of stout, and cigars of peculiarmildness, are vociferously made from all parts of the room. The'professional gentlemen' are in the very height of their glory, andbestow condescending nods, or even a word or two of recognition, onthe better-known frequenters of the room, in the most bland andpatronising manner possible. 

The little round-faced man, with the small brown surtout, whitestockings and shoes, is in the comic line; the mixed air of self-denial, and mental consciousness of his own powers, with which heacknowledges the call of the chair, is particularly gratifying. 'Gen'l'men, ' says the little pompous man, accompanying the wordwith a knock of the president's hammer on the table--'Gen'l'men, allow me to claim your attention--our friend, Mr. Smuggins, willoblige. '--'Bravo!' shout the company; and Smuggins, after aconsiderable quantity of coughing by way of symphony, and a mostfacetious sniff or two, which afford general delight, sings a comicsong, with a fal-de-ral--tol-de-ral chorus at the end of everyverse, much longer than the verse itself. It is received withunbounded applause, and after some aspiring genius has volunteereda recitation, and failed dismally therein, the little pompous mangives another knock, and says 'Gen'l'men, we will attempt a glee, if you please. ' This announcement calls forth tumultuous applause, and the more energetic spirits express the unqualified approbationit affords them, by knocking one or two stout glasses off theirlegs--a humorous device; but one which frequently occasions someslight altercation when the form of paying the damage is proposedto be gone through by the waiter. 

Scenes like these are continued until three or four o'clock in themorning; and even when they close, fresh ones open to theinquisitive novice. But as a description of all of them, howeverslight, would require a volume, the contents of which, howeverinstructive, would be by no means pleasing, we make our bow, anddrop the curtain. 

CHAPTER III--SHOPS AND THEIR TENANTS

What inexhaustible food for speculation, do the streets of Londonafford! We never were able to agree with Sterne in pitying the manwho could travel from Dan to Beersheba, and say that all wasbarren; we have not the slightest commiseration for the man who cantake up his hat and stick, and walk from Covent-garden to St. Paul's Churchyard, and back into the bargain, without deriving someamusement--we had almost said instruction--from his perambulation. And yet there are such beings: we meet them every day. Largeblack stocks and light waistcoats, jet canes and discontentedcountenances, are the characteristics of the race; other peoplebrush quickly by you, steadily plodding on to business, orcheerfully running after pleasure. These men linger listlesslypast, looking as happy and animated as a policeman on duty. Nothing seems to make an impression on their minds: nothing shortof being knocked down by a porter, or run over by a cab, willdisturb their equanimity. You will meet them on a fine day in anyof the leading thoroughfares: peep through the window of a west-end cigar shop in the evening, if you can manage to get a glimpsebetween the blue curtains which intercept the vulgar gaze, and yousee them in their only enjoyment of existence. There they arelounging about, on round tubs and pipe boxes, in all the dignity ofwhiskers, and gilt watch-guards; whispering soft nothings to theyoung lady in amber, with the large ear-rings, who, as she sitsbehind the counter in a blaze of adoration and gas-light, is theadmiration of all the female servants in the neighbourhood, and theenvy of every milliner's apprentice within two miles round. 

One of our principal amusements is to watch the gradual progress--the rise or fall--of particular shops. We have formed an intimateacquaintance with several, in different parts of town, and areperfectly acquainted with their whole history. We could name off-hand, twenty at least, which we are quite sure have paid no taxesfor the last six years. They are never inhabited for more than twomonths consecutively, and, we verily believe, have witnessed everyretail trade in the directory. 

There is one, whose history is a sample of the rest, in whose fatewe have taken especial interest, having had the pleasure of knowingit ever since it has been a shop. It is on the Surrey side of thewater--a little distance beyond the Marsh-gate. It was originallya substantial, good-looking private house enough; the landlord gotinto difficulties, the house got into Chancery, the tenant wentaway, and the house went to ruin. At this period our acquaintancewith it commenced; the paint was all worn off; the windows werebroken, the area was green with neglect and the overflowings of thewater-butt; the butt itself was without a lid, and the street-doorwas the very picture of misery. The chief pastime of the childrenin the vicinity had been to assemble in a body on the steps, and totake it in turn to knock loud double knocks at the door, to thegreat satisfaction of the neighbours generally, and especially ofthe nervous old lady next door but one. Numerous complaints weremade, and several small basins of water discharged over theoffenders, but without effect. In this state of things, themarine-store dealer at the corner of the street, in the mostobliging manner took the knocker off, and sold it: and theunfortunate house looked more wretched than ever. 

We deserted our friend for a few weeks. What was our surprise, onour return, to find no trace of its existence! In its place was ahandsome shop, fast approaching to a state of completion, and onthe shutters were large bills, informing the public that it wouldshortly be opened with 'an extensive stock of linen-drapery andhaberdashery. ' It opened in due course; there was the name of theproprietor 'and Co. ' in gilt letters, almost too dazzling to lookat. Such ribbons and shawls! and two such elegant young men behindthe counter, each in a clean collar and white neckcloth, like thelover in a farce. As to the proprietor, he did nothing but walk upand down the shop, and hand seats to the ladies, and hold importantconversations with the handsomest of the young men, who wasshrewdly suspected by the neighbours to be the 'Co. ' We saw allthis with sorrow; we felt a fatal presentiment that the shop wasdoomed--and so it was. Its decay was slow, but sure. Ticketsgradually appeared in the windows; then rolls of flannel, withlabels on them, were stuck outside the door; then a bill was pastedon the street-door, intimating that the first floor was to letunfurnished; then one of the young men disappeared altogether, andthe other took to a black neckerchief, and the proprietor took todrinking. The shop became dirty, broken panes of glass remainedunmended, and the stock disappeared piecemeal. At last thecompany's man came to cut off the water, and then the linen-drapercut off himself, leaving the landlord his compliments and the key. 

The next occupant was a fancy stationer. The shop was moremodestly painted than before, still it was neat; but somehow wealways thought, as we passed, that it looked like a poor andstruggling concern. We wished the man well, but we trembled forhis success. He was a widower evidently, and had employmentelsewhere, for he passed us every morning on his road to the city. The business was carried on by his eldest daughter. Poor girl! sheneeded no assistance. We occasionally caught a glimpse of two orthree children, in mourning like herself, as they sat in the littleparlour behind the shop; and we never passed at night withoutseeing the eldest girl at work, either for them, or in making someelegant little trifle for sale. We often thought, as her pale facelooked more sad and pensive in the dim candle-light, that if thosethoughtless females who interfere with the miserable market of poorcreatures such as these, knew but one-half of the misery theysuffer, and the bitter privations they endure, in their honourableattempts to earn a scanty subsistence, they would, perhaps, resigneven opportunities for the gratification of vanity, and an immodestlove of self-display, rather than drive them to a last dreadfulresource, which it would shock the delicate feelings of theseCHARITABLE ladies to hear named. 

But we are forgetting the shop. Well, we continued to watch it, and every day showed too clearly the increasing poverty of itsinmates. The children were clean, it is true, but their clotheswere threadbare and shabby; no tenant had been procured for theupper part of the house, from the letting of which, a portion ofthe means of paying the rent was to have been derived, and a slow, wasting consumption prevented the eldest girl from continuing herexertions. Quarter-day arrived. The landlord had suffered fromthe extravagance of his last tenant, and he had no compassion forthe struggles of his successor; he put in an execution. As wepassed one morning, the broker's men were removing the littlefurniture there was in the house, and a newly-posted bill informedus it was again 'To Let. ' What became of the last tenant we nevercould learn; we believe the girl is past all suffering, and beyondall sorrow. God help her! We hope she is. 

We were somewhat curious to ascertain what would be the next stage--for that the place had no chance of succeeding now, was perfectlyclear. The bill was soon taken down, and some alterations werebeing made in the interior of the shop. We were in a fever ofexpectation; we exhausted conjecture--we imagined all possibletrades, none of which were perfectly reconcilable with our idea ofthe gradual decay of the tenement. It opened, and we wondered whywe had not guessed at the real state of the case before. The shop--not a large one at the best of times--had been converted into two:one was a bonnet-shape maker's, the other was opened by atobacconist, who also dealt in walking-sticks and Sundaynewspapers; the two were separated by a thin partition, coveredwith tawdry striped paper. 

The tobacconist remained in possession longer than any tenantwithin our recollection. He was a red-faced, impudent, good-for-nothing dog, evidently accustomed to take things as they came, andto make the best of a bad job. He sold as many cigars as he could, and smoked the rest. He occupied the shop as long as he could makepeace with the landlord, and when he could no longer live in quiet, he very coolly locked the door, and bolted himself. From thisperiod, the two little dens have undergone innumerable changes. The tobacconist was succeeded by a theatrical hair-dresser, whoornamented the window with a great variety of 'characters, ' andterrific combats. The bonnet-shape maker gave place to agreengrocer, and the histrionic barber was succeeded, in his turn, by a tailor. So numerous have been the changes, that we have oflate done little more than mark the peculiar but certainindications of a house being poorly inhabited. It has beenprogressing by almost imperceptible degrees. The occupiers of theshops have gradually given up room after room, until they have onlyreserved the little parlour for themselves. First there appeared abrass plate on the private door, with 'Ladies' School' legiblyengraved thereon; shortly afterwards we observed a second brassplate, then a bell, and then another bell. 

When we paused in front of our old friend, and observed these signsof poverty, which are not to be mistaken, we thought as we turnedaway, that the house had attained its lowest pitch of degradation. We were wrong. When we last passed it, a 'dairy' was establishedin the area, and a party of melancholy-looking fowls were amusingthemselves by running in at the front door, and out at the backone. 

CHAPTER IV--SCOTLAND-YARD

Scotland-yard is a small--a very small-tract of land, bounded onone side by the river Thames, on the other by the gardens ofNorthumberland House: abutting at one end on the bottom ofNorthumberland-street, at the other on the back of Whitehall-place. When this territory was first accidentally discovered by a countrygentleman who lost his way in the Strand, some years ago, theoriginal settlers were found to be a tailor, a publican, twoeating-house keepers, and a fruit-pie maker; and it was also foundto contain a race of strong and bulky men, who repaired to thewharfs in Scotland-yard regularly every morning, about five or sixo'clock, to fill heavy waggons with coal, with which they proceededto distant places up the country, and supplied the inhabitants withfuel. When they had emptied their waggons, they again returned fora fresh supply; and this trade was continued throughout the year. 

As the settlers derived their subsistence from ministering to thewants of these primitive traders, the articles exposed for sale, and the places where they were sold, bore strong outward marks ofbeing expressly adapted to their tastes and wishes. The tailordisplayed in his window a Lilliputian pair of leather gaiters, anda diminutive round frock, while each doorpost was appropriatelygarnished with a model of a coal-sack. The two eating-housekeepers exhibited joints of a magnitude, and puddings of asolidity, which coalheavers alone could appreciate; and the fruit-pie maker displayed on his well-scrubbed window-board large whitecompositions of flour and dripping, ornamented with pink stains, giving rich promise of the fruit within, which made their hugemouths water, as they lingered past. 

But the choicest spot in all Scotland-yard was the old public-housein the corner. Here, in a dark wainscoted-room of ancientappearance, cheered by the glow of a mighty fire, and decoratedwith an enormous clock, whereof the face was white, and the figuresblack, sat the lusty coalheavers, quaffing large draughts ofBarclay's best, and puffing forth volumes of smoke, which wreathedheavily above their heads, and involved the room in a thick darkcloud. From this apartment might their voices be heard on awinter's night, penetrating to the very bank of the river, as theyshouted out some sturdy chorus, or roared forth the burden of apopular song; dwelling upon the last few words with a strength andlength of emphasis which made the very roof tremble above them. 

Here, too, would they tell old legends of what the Thames was inancient times, when the Patent Shot Manufactory wasn't built, andWaterloo-bridge had never been thought of; and then they wouldshake their heads with portentous looks, to the deep edification ofthe rising generation of heavers, who crowded round them, andwondered where all this would end; whereat the tailor would takehis pipe solemnly from his mouth, and say, how that he hoped itmight end well, but he very much doubted whether it would or not, and couldn't rightly tell what to make of it--a mysteriousexpression of opinion, delivered with a semi-prophetic air, whichnever failed to elicit the fullest concurrence of the assembledcompany; and so they would go on drinking and wondering till teno'clock came, and with it the tailor's wife to fetch him home, whenthe little party broke up, to meet again in the same room, and sayand do precisely the same things, on the following evening at thesame hour. 

About this time the barges that came up the river began to bringvague rumours to Scotland-yard of somebody in the city having beenheard to say, that the Lord Mayor had threatened in so many wordsto pull down the old London-bridge, and build up a new one. Atfirst these rumours were disregarded as idle tales, whollydestitute of foundation, for nobody in Scotland-yard doubted thatif the Lord Mayor contemplated any such dark design, he would justbe clapped up in the Tower for a week or two, and then killed offfor high treason. 

By degrees, however, the reports grew stronger, and more frequent, and at last a barge, laden with numerous chaldrons of the bestWallsend, brought up the positive intelligence that several of thearches of the old bridge were stopped, and that preparations wereactually in progress for constructing the new one. What anexcitement was visible in the old tap-room on that memorable night!Each man looked into his neighbour's face, pale with alarm andastonishment, and read therein an echo of the sentiments whichfilled his own breast. The oldest heaver present proved todemonstration, that the moment the piers were removed, all thewater in the Thames would run clean off, and leave a dry gully inits place. What was to become of the coal-barges--of the trade ofScotland-yard--of the very existence of its population? The tailorshook his head more sagely than usual, and grimly pointing to aknife on the table, bid them wait and see what happened. He saidnothing--not he; but if the Lord Mayor didn't fall a victim topopular indignation, why he would be rather astonished; that wasall. 

They did wait; barge after barge arrived, and still no tidings ofthe assassination of the Lord Mayor. The first stone was laid: itwas done by a Duke--the King's brother. Years passed away, and thebridge was opened by the King himself. In course of time, thepiers were removed; and when the people in Scotland-yard got upnext morning in the confident expectation of being able to stepover to Pedlar's Acre without wetting the soles of their shoes, they found to their unspeakable astonishment that the water wasjust where it used to be. 

A result so different from that which they had anticipated fromthis first improvement, produced its full effect upon theinhabitants of Scotland-yard. One of the eating-house keepersbegan to court public opinion, and to look for customers among anew class of people. He covered his little dining-tables withwhite cloths, and got a painter's apprentice to inscribe somethingabout hot joints from twelve to two, in one of the little panes ofhis shop-window. Improvement began to march with rapid strides tothe very threshold of Scotland-yard. A new market sprung up atHungerford, and the Police Commissioners established their officein Whitehall-place. The traffic in Scotland-yard increased; freshMembers were added to the House of Commons, the MetropolitanRepresentatives found it a near cut, and many other foot passengersfollowed their example. 

We marked the advance of civilisation, and beheld it with a sigh. The eating-house keeper who manfully resisted the innovation oftable-cloths, was losing ground every day, as his opponent gainedit, and a deadly feud sprung up between them. The genteel one nolonger took his evening's pint in Scotland-yard, but drank gin andwater at a 'parlour' in Parliament-street. The fruit-pie makerstill continued to visit the old room, but he took to smokingcigars, and began to call himself a pastrycook, and to read thepapers. The old heavers still assembled round the ancientfireplace, but their talk was mournful: and the loud song and thejoyous shout were heard no more. 

And what is Scotland-yard now? How have its old customs changed;and how has the ancient simplicity of its inhabitants faded away!The old tottering public-house is converted into a spacious andlofty 'wine-vaults;' gold leaf has been used in the construction ofthe letters which emblazon its exterior, and the poet's art hasbeen called into requisition, to intimate that if you drink acertain description of ale, you must hold fast by the rail. Thetailor exhibits in his window the pattern of a foreign-lookingbrown surtout, with silk buttons, a fur collar, and fur cuffs. Hewears a stripe down the outside of each leg of his trousers: andwe have detected his assistants (for he has assistants now) in theact of sitting on the shop-board in the same uniform. 

At the other end of the little row of houses a boot-maker hasestablished himself in a brick box, with the additional innovationof a first floor; and here he exposes for sale, boots--realWellington boots--an article which a few years ago, none of theoriginal inhabitants had ever seen or heard of. It was but theother day, that a dress-maker opened another little box in themiddle of the row; and, when we thought that the spirit of changecould produce no alteration beyond that, a jeweller appeared, andnot content with exposing gilt rings and copper bracelets out ofnumber, put up an announcement, which still sticks in his window, that 'ladies' ears may be pierced within. ' The dress-maker employsa young lady who wears pockets in her apron; and the tailor informsthe public that gentlemen may have their own materials made up. 

Amidst all this change, and restlessness, and innovation, thereremains but one old man, who seems to mourn the downfall of thisancient place. He holds no converse with human kind, but, seatedon a wooden bench at the angle of the wall which fronts thecrossing from Whitehall-place, watches in silence the gambols ofhis sleek and well-fed dogs. He is the presiding genius ofScotland-yard. Years and years have rolled over his head; but, infine weather or in foul, hot or cold, wet or dry, hail, rain, orsnow, he is still in his accustomed spot. Misery and want aredepicted in his countenance; his form is bent by age, his head isgrey with length of trial, but there he sits from day to day, brooding over the past; and thither he will continue to drag hisfeeble limbs, until his eyes have closed upon Scotland-yard, andupon the world together. 

A few years hence, and the antiquary of another generation lookinginto some mouldy record of the strife and passions that agitatedthe world in these times, may glance his eye over the pages we havejust filled: and not all his knowledge of the history of the past, not all his black-letter lore, or his skill in book-collecting, notall the dry studies of a long life, or the dusty volumes that havecost him a fortune, may help him to the whereabouts, either ofScotland-yard, or of any one of the landmarks we have mentioned indescribing it. 

CHAPTER V--SEVEN DIALS

We have always been of opinion that if Tom King and the Frenchmanhad not immortalised Seven Dials, Seven Dials would haveimmortalised itself. Seven Dials! the region of song and poetry--first effusions, and last dying speeches: hallowed by the names ofCatnach and of Pitts--names that will entwine themselves withcostermongers, and barrel-organs, when penny magazines shall havesuperseded penny yards of song, and capital punishment be unknown!

Look at the construction of the place. The Gordian knot was allvery well in its way: so was the maze of Hampton Court: so is themaze at the Beulah Spa: so were the ties of stiff whiteneckcloths, when the difficulty of getting one on, was only to beequalled by the apparent impossibility of ever getting it offagain. But what involutions can compare with those of Seven Dials?Where is there such another maze of streets, courts, lanes, andalleys? Where such a pure mixture of Englishmen and Irishmen, asin this complicated part of London? We boldly aver that we doubtthe veracity of the legend to which we have adverted. We CANsuppose a man rash enough to inquire at random--at a house withlodgers too--for a Mr. Thompson, with all but the certainty beforehis eyes, of finding at least two or three Thompsons in any houseof moderate dimensions; but a Frenchman--a Frenchman in SevenDials! Pooh! He was an Irishman. Tom King's education had beenneglected in his infancy, and as he couldn't understand half theman said, he took it for granted he was talking French. 

The stranger who finds himself in 'The Dials' for the first time, and stands Belzoni-like, at the entrance of seven obscure passages, uncertain which to take, will see enough around him to keep hiscuriosity and attention awake for no inconsiderable time. From theirregular square into which he has plunged, the streets and courtsdart in all directions, until they are lost in the unwholesomevapour which hangs over the house-tops, and renders the dirtyperspective uncertain and confined; and lounging at every corner, as if they came there to take a few gasps of such fresh air as hasfound its way so far, but is too much exhausted already, to beenabled to force itself into the narrow alleys around, are groupsof people, whose appearance and dwellings would fill any mind but aregular Londoner's with astonishment. 

On one side, a little crowd has collected round a couple of ladies, who having imbibed the contents of various 'three-outs' of gin andbitters in the course of the morning, have at length differed onsome point of domestic arrangement, and are on the eve of settlingthe quarrel satisfactorily, by an appeal to blows, greatly to theinterest of other ladies who live in the same house, and tenementsadjoining, and who are all partisans on one side or other. 

'Vy don't you pitch into her, Sarah?' exclaims one half-dressedmatron, by way of encouragement. 'Vy don't you? if MY 'usband hadtreated her with a drain last night, unbeknown to me, I'd tear herprecious eyes out--a wixen!'

'What's the matter, ma'am?' inquires another old woman, who hasjust bustled up to the spot. 

'Matter!' replies the first speaker, talking AT the obnoxiouscombatant, 'matter! Here's poor dear Mrs. Sulliwin, as has fiveblessed children of her own, can't go out a charing for onearternoon, but what hussies must be a comin', and 'ticing avay heroun' 'usband, as she's been married to twelve year come next EasterMonday, for I see the certificate ven I vas a drinkin' a cup o' teavith her, only the werry last blessed Ven'sday as ever was sent. I'appen'd to say promiscuously, "Mrs. Sulliwin, " says I--'

'What do you mean by hussies?' interrupts a champion of the otherparty, who has evinced a strong inclination throughout to get up abranch fight on her own account ('Hooroar, ' ejaculates a pot-boy inparenthesis, 'put the kye-bosk on her, Mary!'), 'What do you meanby hussies?' reiterates the champion. 

'Niver mind, ' replies the opposition expressively, 'niver mind; YOUgo home, and, ven you're quite sober, mend your stockings. '

This somewhat personal allusion, not only to the lady's habits ofintemperance, but also to the state of her wardrobe, rouses herutmost ire, and she accordingly complies with the urgent request ofthe bystanders to 'pitch in, ' with considerable alacrity. Thescuffle became general, and terminates, in minor play-billphraseology, with 'arrival of the policemen, interior of thestation-house, and impressive denouement. '

In addition to the numerous groups who are idling about the gin-shops and squabbling in the centre of the road, every post in theopen space has its occupant, who leans against it for hours, withlistless perseverance. It is odd enough that one class of men inLondon appear to have no enjoyment beyond leaning against posts. We never saw a regular bricklayer's labourer take any otherrecreation, fighting excepted. Pass through St. Giles's in theevening of a week-day, there they are in their fustian dresses, spotted with brick-dust and whitewash, leaning against posts. Walkthrough Seven Dials on Sunday morning: there they are again, drabor light corduroy trousers, Blucher boots, blue coats, and greatyellow waistcoats, leaning against posts. The idea of a mandressing himself in his best clothes, to lean against a post allday!

The peculiar character of these streets, and the close resemblanceeach one bears to its neighbour, by no means tends to decrease thebewilderment in which the unexperienced wayfarer through 'theDials' finds himself involved. He traverses streets of dirty, straggling houses, with now and then an unexpected court composedof buildings as ill-proportioned and deformed as the half-nakedchildren that wallow in the kennels. Here and there, a little darkchandler's shop, with a cracked bell hung up behind the door toannounce the entrance of a customer, or betray the presence of someyoung gentleman in whom a passion for shop tills has developeditself at an early age: others, as if for support, against somehandsome lofty building, which usurps the place of a low dingypublic-house; long rows of broken and patched windows expose plantsthat may have flourished when 'the Dials' were built, in vessels asdirty as 'the Dials' themselves; and shops for the purchase ofrags, bones, old iron, and kitchen-stuff, vie in cleanliness withthe bird-fanciers and rabbit-dealers, which one might fancy so manyarks, but for the irresistible conviction that no bird in itsproper senses, who was permitted to leave one of them, would evercome back again. Brokers' shops, which would seem to have beenestablished by humane individuals, as refuges for destitute bugs, interspersed with announcements of day-schools, penny theatres, petition-writers, mangles, and music for balls or routs, completethe 'still life' of the subject; and dirty men, filthy women, squalid children, fluttering shuttlecocks, noisy battledores, reeking pipes, bad fruit, more than doubtful oysters, attenuatedcats, depressed dogs, and anatomical fowls, are its cheerfulaccompaniments. 

If the external appearance of the houses, or a glance at theirinhabitants, present but few attractions, a closer acquaintancewith either is little calculated to alter one's first impression. Every room has its separate tenant, and every tenant is, by thesame mysterious dispensation which causes a country curate to'increase and multiply' most marvellously, generally the head of anumerous family. 

The man in the shop, perhaps, is in the baked 'jemmy' line, or thefire-wood and hearth-stone line, or any other line which requires afloating capital of eighteen-pence or thereabouts: and he and hisfamily live in the shop, and the small back parlour behind it. Then there is an Irish labourer and HIS family in the back kitchen, and a jobbing man--carpet-beater and so forth--with HIS family inthe front one. In the front one-pair, there's another man withanother wife and family, and in the back one-pair, there's 'a young'oman as takes in tambour-work, and dresses quite genteel, ' whotalks a good deal about 'my friend, ' and can't 'a-bear anythinglow. ' The second floor front, and the rest of the lodgers, arejust a second edition of the people below, except a shabby-genteelman in the back attic, who has his half-pint of coffee everymorning from the coffee-shop next door but one, which boasts alittle front den called a coffee-room, with a fireplace, over whichis an inscription, politely requesting that, 'to prevent mistakes, 'customers will 'please to pay on delivery. ' The shabby-genteel manis an object of some mystery, but as he leads a life of seclusion, and never was known to buy anything beyond an occasional pen, except half-pints of coffee, penny loaves, and ha'porths of ink, his fellow-lodgers very naturally suppose him to be an author; andrumours are current in the Dials, that he writes poems for Mr. Warren. 

Now anybody who passed through the Dials on a hot summer's evening, and saw the different women of the house gossiping on the steps, would be apt to think that all was harmony among them, and that amore primitive set of people than the native Diallers could not beimagined. Alas! the man in the shop ill-treats his family; thecarpet-beater extends his professional pursuits to his wife; theone-pair front has an undying feud with the two-pair front, inconsequence of the two-pair front persisting in dancing over his(the one-pair front's) head, when he and his family have retiredfor the night; the two-pair back will interfere with the frontkitchen's children; the Irishman comes home drunk every othernight, and attacks everybody; and the one-pair back screams ateverything. Animosities spring up between floor and floor; thevery cellar asserts his equality. Mrs. A. 'smacks' Mrs. B. 's childfor 'making faces. ' Mrs. B. Forthwith throws cold water over Mrs. A. 's child for 'calling names. ' The husbands are embroiled--thequarrel becomes general--an assault is the consequence, and apolice-officer the result. 

CHAPTER VI--MEDITATIONS IN MONMOUTH-STREET

We have always entertained a particular attachment towardsMonmouth-street, as the only true and real emporium for second-handwearing apparel. Monmouth-street is venerable from its antiquity, and respectable from its usefulness. Holywell-street we despise;the red-headed and red-whiskered Jews who forcibly haul you intotheir squalid houses, and thrust you into a suit of clothes, whether you will or not, we detest. 

The inhabitants of Monmouth-street are a distinct class; apeaceable and retiring race, who immure themselves for the mostpart in deep cellars, or small back parlours, and who seldom comeforth into the world, except in the dusk and coolness of theevening, when they may be seen seated, in chairs on the pavement, smoking their pipes, or watching the gambols of their engagingchildren as they revel in the gutter, a happy troop of infantinescavengers. Their countenances bear a thoughtful and a dirty cast, certain indications of their love of traffic; and their habitationsare distinguished by that disregard of outward appearance andneglect of personal comfort, so common among people who areconstantly immersed in profound speculations, and deeply engaged insedentary pursuits. 

We have hinted at the antiquity of our favourite spot. 'AMonmouth-street laced coat' was a by-word a century ago; and stillwe find Monmouth-street the same. Pilot great-coats with woodenbuttons, have usurped the place of the ponderous laced coats withfull skirts; embroidered waistcoats with large flaps, have yieldedto double-breasted checks with roll-collars; and three-corneredhats of quaint appearance, have given place to the low crowns andbroad brims of the coachman school; but it is the times that havechanged, not Monmouth-street. Through every alteration and everychange, Monmouth-street has still remained the burial-place of thefashions; and such, to judge from all present appearances, it willremain until there are no more fashions to bury. 

We love to walk among these extensive groves of the illustriousdead, and to indulge in the speculations to which they give rise;now fitting a deceased coat, then a dead pair of trousers, and anonthe mortal remains of a gaudy waistcoat, upon some being of our ownconjuring up, and endeavouring, from the shape and fashion of thegarment itself, to bring its former owner before our mind's eye. We have gone on speculating in this way, until whole rows of coatshave started from their pegs, and buttoned up, of their own accord, round the waists of imaginary wearers; lines of trousers havejumped down to meet them; waistcoats have almost burst with anxietyto put themselves on; and half an acre of shoes have suddenly foundfeet to fit them, and gone stumping down the street with a noisewhich has fairly awakened us from our pleasant reverie, and drivenus slowly away, with a bewildered stare, an object of astonishmentto the good people of Monmouth-street, and of no slight suspicionto the policemen at the opposite street corner. 

We were occupied in this manner the other day, endeavouring to fita pair of lace-up half-boots on an ideal personage, for whom, tosay the truth, they were full a couple of sizes too small, when oureyes happened to alight on a few suits of clothes ranged outside ashop-window, which it immediately struck us, must at differentperiods have all belonged to, and been worn by, the sameindividual, and had now, by one of those strange conjunctions ofcircumstances which will occur sometimes, come to be exposedtogether for sale in the same shop. The idea seemed a fantasticone, and we looked at the clothes again with a firm determinationnot to be easily led away. No, we were right; the more we looked, the more we were convinced of the accuracy of our previousimpression. There was the man's whole life written as legibly onthose clothes, as if we had his autobiography engrossed onparchment before us. 

The first was a patched and much-soiled skeleton suit; one of thosestraight blue cloth cases in which small boys used to be confined, before belts and tunics had come in, and old notions had gone out:an ingenious contrivance for displaying the full symmetry of aboy's figure, by fastening him into a very tight jacket, with anornamental row of buttons over each shoulder, and then buttoninghis trousers over it, so as to give his legs the appearance ofbeing hooked on, just under the armpits. This was the boy's dress. It had belonged to a town boy, we could see; there was a shortnessabout the legs and arms of the suit; and a bagging at the knees, peculiar to the rising youth of London streets. A small day-schoolhe had been at, evidently. If it had been a regular boys' schoolthey wouldn't have let him play on the floor so much, and rub hisknees so white. He had an indulgent mother too, and plenty ofhalfpence, as the numerous smears of some sticky substance aboutthe pockets, and just below the chin, which even the salesman'sskill could not succeed in disguising, sufficiently betokened. They were decent people, but not overburdened with riches, or hewould not have so far outgrown the suit when he passed into thosecorduroys with the round jacket; in which he went to a boys'school, however, and learnt to write--and in ink of prettytolerable blackness, too, if the place where he used to wipe hispen might be taken as evidence. 

A black suit and the jacket changed into a diminutive coat. Hisfather had died, and the mother had got the boy a message-lad'splace in some office. A long-worn suit that one; rusty andthreadbare before it was laid aside, but clean and free from soilto the last. Poor woman! We could imagine her assumedcheerfulness over the scanty meal, and the refusal of her own smallportion, that her hungry boy might have enough. Her constantanxiety for his welfare, her pride in his growth mingled sometimeswith the thought, almost too acute to bear, that as he grew to be aman his old affection might cool, old kindnesses fade from hismind, and old promises be forgotten--the sharp pain that even thena careless word or a cold look would give her--all crowded on ourthoughts as vividly as if the very scene were passing before us. 

These things happen every hour, and we all know it; and yet we feltas much sorrow when we saw, or fancied we saw--it makes nodifference which--the change that began to take place now, as if wehad just conceived the bare possibility of such a thing for thefirst time. The next suit, smart but slovenly; meant to be gay, and yet not half so decent as the threadbare apparel; redolent ofthe idle lounge, and the blackguard companions, told us, wethought, that the widow's comfort had rapidly faded away. We couldimagine that coat--imagine! we could see it; we HAD seen it ahundred times--sauntering in company with three or four other coatsof the same cut, about some place of profligate resort at night. 

We dressed, from the same shop-window in an instant, half a dozenboys of from fifteen to twenty; and putting cigars into theirmouths, and their hands into their pockets, watched them as theysauntered down the street, and lingered at the corner, with theobscene jest, and the oft-repeated oath. We never lost sight ofthem, till they had cocked their hats a little more on one side, and swaggered into the public-house; and then we entered thedesolate home, where the mother sat late in the night, alone; wewatched her, as she paced the room in feverish anxiety, and everynow and then opened the door, looked wistfully into the dark andempty street, and again returned, to be again and againdisappointed. We beheld the look of patience with which she borethe brutish threat, nay, even the drunken blow; and we heard theagony of tears that gushed from her very heart, as she sank uponher knees in her solitary and wretched apartment. 

A long period had elapsed, and a greater change had taken place, bythe time of casting off the suit that hung above. It was that of astout, broad-shouldered, sturdy-chested man; and we knew at once, as anybody would, who glanced at that broad-skirted green coat, with the large metal buttons, that its wearer seldom walked forthwithout a dog at his heels, and some idle ruffian, the verycounterpart of himself, at his side. The vices of the boy hadgrown with the man, and we fancied his home then--if such a placedeserve the name. 

We saw the bare and miserable room, destitute of furniture, crowdedwith his wife and children, pale, hungry, and emaciated; the mancursing their lamentations, staggering to the tap-room, from whencehe had just returned, followed by his wife and a sickly infant, clamouring for bread; and heard the street-wrangle and noisyrecrimination that his striking her occasioned. And thenimagination led us to some metropolitan workhouse, situated in themidst of crowded streets and alleys, filled with noxious vapours, and ringing with boisterous cries, where an old and feeble woman, imploring pardon for her son, lay dying in a close dark room, withno child to clasp her hand, and no pure air from heaven to fan herbrow. A stranger closed the eyes that settled into a coldunmeaning glare, and strange ears received the words that murmuredfrom the white and half-closed lips. 

A coarse round frock, with a worn cotton neckerchief, and otherarticles of clothing of the commonest description, completed thehistory. A prison, and the sentence--banishment or the gallows. What would the man have given then, to be once again the contentedhumble drudge of his boyish years; to have been restored to life, but for a week, a day, an hour, a minute, only for so long a timeas would enable him to say one word of passionate regret to, andhear one sound of heartfelt forgiveness from, the cold and ghastlyform that lay rotting in the pauper's grave! The children wild inthe streets, the mother a destitute widow; both deeply tainted withthe deep disgrace of the husband and father's name, and impelled bysheer necessity, down the precipice that had led him to a lingeringdeath, possibly of many years' duration, thousands of miles away. We had no clue to the end of the tale; but it was easy to guess itstermination. 

We took a step or two further on, and by way of restoring thenaturally cheerful tone of our thoughts, began fitting visionaryfeet and legs into a cellar-board full of boots and shoes, with aspeed and accuracy that would have astonished the most expertartist in leather, living. There was one pair of boots inparticular--a jolly, good-tempered, hearty-looking pair of tops, that excited our warmest regard; and we had got a fine, red-faced, jovial fellow of a market-gardener into them, before we had madetheir acquaintance half a minute. They were just the very thingfor him. There was his huge fat legs bulging over the tops, andfitting them too tight to admit of his tucking in the loops he hadpulled them on by; and his knee-cords with an interval of stocking;and his blue apron tucked up round his waist; and his redneckerchief and blue coat, and a white hat stuck on one side of hishead; and there he stood with a broad grin on his great red face, whistling away, as if any other idea but that of being happy andcomfortable had never entered his brain. 

This was the very man after our own heart; we knew all about him;we had seen him coming up to Covent-garden in his green chaise-cart, with the fat, tubby little horse, half a thousand times; andeven while we cast an affectionate look upon his boots, at thatinstant, the form of a coquettish servant-maid suddenly sprung intoa pair of Denmark satin shoes that stood beside them, and we atonce recognised the very girl who accepted his offer of a ride, just on this side the Hammersmith suspension-bridge, the very lastTuesday morning we rode into town from Richmond. 

A very smart female, in a showy bonnet, stepped into a pair of greycloth boots, with black fringe and binding, that were studiouslypointing out their toes on the other side of the top-boots, andseemed very anxious to engage his attention, but we didn't observethat our friend the market-gardener appeared at all captivated withthese blandishments; for beyond giving a knowing wink when theyfirst began, as if to imply that he quite understood their end andobject, he took no further notice of them. His indifference, however, was amply recompensed by the excessive gallantry of a veryold gentleman with a silver-headed stick, who tottered into a pairof large list shoes, that were standing in one corner of the board, and indulged in a variety of gestures expressive of his admirationof the lady in the cloth boots, to the immeasurable amusement of ayoung fellow we put into a pair of long-quartered pumps, who wethought would have split the coat that slid down to meet him, withlaughing. 

We had been looking on at this little pantomime with greatsatisfaction for some time, when, to our unspeakable astonishment, we perceived that the whole of the characters, including a numerouscorps de ballet of boots and shoes in the background, into which wehad been hastily thrusting as many feet as we could press into theservice, were arranging themselves in order for dancing; and somemusic striking up at the moment, to it they went without delay. Itwas perfectly delightful to witness the agility of the market-gardener. Out went the boots, first on one side, then on theother, then cutting, then shuffling, then setting to the Denmarksatins, then advancing, then retreating, then going round, and thenrepeating the whole of the evolutions again, without appearing tosuffer in the least from the violence of the exercise. 

Nor were the Denmark satins a bit behindhand, for they jumped andbounded about, in all directions; and though they were neither soregular, nor so true to the time as the cloth boots, still, as theyseemed to do it from the heart, and to enjoy it more, we candidlyconfess that we preferred their style of dancing to the other. Butthe old gentleman in the list shoes was the most amusing object inthe whole party; for, besides his grotesque attempts to appearyouthful, and amorous, which were sufficiently entertaining inthemselves, the young fellow in the pumps managed so artfully thatevery time the old gentleman advanced to salute the lady in thecloth boots, he trod with his whole weight on the old fellow'stoes, which made him roar with anguish, and rendered all the otherslike to die of laughing. 

We were in the full enjoyment of these festivities when we heard ashrill, and by no means musical voice, exclaim, 'Hope you'll knowme agin, imperence!' and on looking intently forward to see fromwhence the sound came, we found that it proceeded, not from theyoung lady in the cloth boots, as we had at first been inclined tosuppose, but from a bulky lady of elderly appearance who was seatedin a chair at the head of the cellar-steps, apparently for thepurpose of superintending the sale of the articles arranged there. 

A barrel-organ, which had been in full force close behind us, ceased playing; the people we had been fitting into the shoes andboots took to flight at the interruption; and as we were consciousthat in the depth of our meditations we might have been rudelystaring at the old lady for half an hour without knowing it, wetook to flight too, and were soon immersed in the deepest obscurityof the adjacent 'Dials. '

CHAPTER VII--HACKNEY-COACH STANDS

We maintain that hackney-coaches, properly so called, belong solelyto the metropolis. We may be told, that there are hackney-coachstands in Edinburgh; and not to go quite so far for a contradictionto our position, we may be reminded that Liverpool, Manchester, 'and other large towns' (as the Parliamentary phrase goes), haveTHEIR hackney-coach stands. We readily concede to these places thepossession of certain vehicles, which may look almost as dirty, andeven go almost as slowly, as London hackney-coaches; but that theyhave the slightest claim to compete with the metropolis, either inpoint of stands, drivers, or cattle, we indignantly deny. 

Take a regular, ponderous, rickety, London hackney-coach of the oldschool, and let any man have the boldness to assert, if he can, that he ever beheld any object on the face of the earth which atall resembles it, unless, indeed, it were another hackney-coach ofthe same date. We have recently observed on certain stands, and wesay it with deep regret, rather dapper green chariots, and coachesof polished yellow, with four wheels of the same colour as thecoach, whereas it is perfectly notorious to every one who hasstudied the subject, that every wheel ought to be of a differentcolour, and a different size. These are innovations, and, likeother miscalled improvements, awful signs of the restlessness ofthe public mind, and the little respect paid to our time-honouredinstitutions. Why should hackney-coaches be clean? Our ancestorsfound them dirty, and left them so. Why should we, with a feverishwish to 'keep moving, ' desire to roll along at the rate of sixmiles an hour, while they were content to rumble over the stones atfour? These are solemn considerations. Hackney-coaches are partand parcel of the law of the land; they were settled by theLegislature; plated and numbered by the wisdom of Parliament. 

Then why have they been swamped by cabs and omnibuses? Or whyshould people be allowed to ride quickly for eightpence a mile, after Parliament had come to the solemn decision that they shouldpay a shilling a mile for riding slowly? We pause for a reply;--and, having no chance of getting one, begin a fresh paragraph. 

Our acquaintance with hackney-coach stands is of long standing. Weare a walking book of fares, feeling ourselves, half bound, as itwere, to be always in the right on contested points. We know allthe regular watermen within three miles of Covent-garden by sight, and should be almost tempted to believe that all the hackney-coachhorses in that district knew us by sight too, if one-half of themwere not blind. We take great interest in hackney-coaches, but weseldom drive, having a knack of turning ourselves over when weattempt to do so. We are as great friends to horses, hackney-coachand otherwise, as the renowned Mr. Martin, of costermongernotoriety, and yet we never ride. We keep no horse, but a clothes-horse; enjoy no saddle so much as a saddle of mutton; and, following our own inclinations, have never followed the hounds. Leaving these fleeter means of getting over the ground, or ofdepositing oneself upon it, to those who like them, by hackney-coach stands we take our stand. 

There is a hackney-coach stand under the very window at which weare writing; there is only one coach on it now, but it is a fairspecimen of the class of vehicles to which we have alluded--agreat, lumbering, square concern of a dingy yellow colour (like abilious brunette), with very small glasses, but very large frames;the panels are ornamented with a faded coat of arms, in shapesomething like a dissected bat, the axletree is red, and themajority of the wheels are green. The box is partially covered byan old great-coat, with a multiplicity of capes, and someextraordinary-looking clothes; and the straw, with which the canvascushion is stuffed, is sticking up in several places, as if inrivalry of the hay, which is peeping through the chinks in theboot. The horses, with drooping heads, and each with a mane andtail as scanty and straggling as those of a worn-out rocking-horse, are standing patiently on some damp straw, occasionally wincing, and rattling the harness; and now and then, one of them lifts hismouth to the ear of his companion, as if he were saying, in awhisper, that he should like to assassinate the coachman. Thecoachman himself is in the watering-house; and the waterman, withhis hands forced into his pockets as far as they can possibly go, is dancing the 'double shuffle, ' in front of the pump, to keep hisfeet warm. 

The servant-girl, with the pink ribbons, at No. 5, opposite, suddenly opens the street-door, and four small children forthwithrush out, and scream 'Coach!' with all their might and main. Thewaterman darts from the pump, seizes the horses by their respectivebridles, and drags them, and the coach too, round to the house, shouting all the time for the coachman at the very top, or rathervery bottom of his voice, for it is a deep bass growl. A responseis heard from the tap-room; the coachman, in his wooden-soledshoes, makes the street echo again as he runs across it; and thenthere is such a struggling, and backing, and grating of the kennel, to get the coach-door opposite the house-door, that the childrenare in perfect ecstasies of delight. What a commotion! The oldlady, who has been stopping there for the last month, is going backto the country. Out comes box after box, and one side of thevehicle is filled with luggage in no time; the children get intoeverybody's way, and the youngest, who has upset himself in hisattempts to carry an umbrella, is borne off wounded and kicking. The youngsters disappear, and a short pause ensues, during whichthe old lady is, no doubt, kissing them all round in the backparlour. She appears at last, followed by her married daughter, all the children, and both the servants, who, with the jointassistance of the coachman and waterman, manage to get her safelyinto the coach. A cloak is handed in, and a little basket, whichwe could almost swear contains a small black bottle, and a paper ofsandwiches. Up go the steps, bang goes the door, 'Golden-cross, Charing-cross, Tom, ' says the waterman; 'Good-bye, grandma, ' crythe children, off jingles the coach at the rate of three miles anhour, and the mamma and children retire into the house, with theexception of one little villain, who runs up the street at the topof his speed, pursued by the servant; not ill-pleased to have suchan opportunity of displaying her attractions. She brings him back, and, after casting two or three gracious glances across the way, which are either intended for us or the potboy (we are not quitecertain which), shuts the door, and the hackney-coach stand isagain at a standstill. 

We have been frequently amused with the intense delight with which'a servant of all work, ' who is sent for a coach, deposits herselfinside; and the unspeakable gratification which boys, who have beendespatched on a similar errand, appear to derive from mounting thebox. But we never recollect to have been more amused with ahackney-coach party, than one we saw early the other morning inTottenham-court-road. It was a wedding-party, and emerged from oneof the inferior streets near Fitzroy-square. There were the bride, with a thin white dress, and a great red face; and the bridesmaid, a little, dumpy, good-humoured young woman, dressed, of course, inthe same appropriate costume; and the bridegroom and his chosenfriend, in blue coats, yellow waist-coats, white trousers, andBerlin gloves to match. They stopped at the corner of the street, and called a coach with an air of indescribable dignity. Themoment they were in, the bridesmaid threw a red shawl, which shehad, no doubt, brought on purpose, negligently over the number onthe door, evidently to delude pedestrians into the belief that thehackney-coach was a private carriage; and away they went, perfectlysatisfied that the imposition was successful, and quite unconsciousthat there was a great staring number stuck up behind, on a plateas large as a schoolboy's slate. A shilling a mile!--the ride wasworth five, at least, to them. 

What an interesting book a hackney-coach might produce, if it couldcarry as much in its head as it does in its body! Theautobiography of a broken-down hackney-coach, would surely be asamusing as the autobiography of a broken-down hackneyed dramatist;and it might tell as much of its travels WITH the pole, as othershave of their expeditions TO it. How many stories might be relatedof the different people it had conveyed on matters of business orprofit--pleasure or pain! And how many melancholy tales of thesame people at different periods! The country-girl--the showy, over-dressed woman--the drunken prostitute! The raw apprentice--the dissipated spendthrift--the thief!

Talk of cabs! Cabs are all very well in cases of expedition, whenit's a matter of neck or nothing, life or death, your temporaryhome or your long one. But, besides a cab's lacking that gravityof deportment which so peculiarly distinguishes a hackney-coach, let it never be forgotten that a cab is a thing of yesterday, andthat he never was anything better. A hackney-cab has always been ahackney-cab, from his first entry into life; whereas a hackney-coach is a remnant of past gentility, a victim to fashion, ahanger-on of an old English family, wearing their arms, and, indays of yore, escorted by men wearing their livery, stripped of hisfinery, and thrown upon the world, like a once-smart footman whenhe is no longer sufficiently juvenile for his office, progressinglower and lower in the scale of four-wheeled degradation, until atlast it comes to--A STAND!

CHAPTER VIII--DOCTORS' COMMONS

Walking without any definite object through St. Paul's Churchyard, a little while ago, we happened to turn down a street entitled'Paul's-chain, ' and keeping straight forward for a few hundredyards, found ourself, as a natural consequence, in Doctors'Commons. Now Doctors' Commons being familiar by name to everybody, as the place where they grant marriage-licenses to love-sickcouples, and divorces to unfaithful ones; register the wills ofpeople who have any property to leave, and punish hasty gentlemenwho call ladies by unpleasant names, we no sooner discovered thatwe were really within its precincts, than we felt a laudable desireto become better acquainted therewith; and as the first object ofour curiosity was the Court, whose decrees can even unloose thebonds of matrimony, we procured a direction to it; and bent oursteps thither without delay. 

Crossing a quiet and shady court-yard, paved with stone, andfrowned upon by old red brick houses, on the doors of which werepainted the names of sundry learned civilians, we paused before asmall, green-baized, brass-headed-nailed door, which yielding toour gentle push, at once admitted us into an old quaint-lookingapartment, with sunken windows, and black carved wainscoting, atthe upper end of which, seated on a raised platform, ofsemicircular shape, were about a dozen solemn-looking gentlemen, incrimson gowns and wigs. 

At a more elevated desk in the centre, sat a very fat and red-facedgentleman, in tortoise-shell spectacles, whose dignified appearanceannounced the judge; and round a long green-baized table below, something like a billiard-table without the cushions and pockets, were a number of very self-important-looking personages, in stiffneckcloths, and black gowns with white fur collars, whom we at onceset down as proctors. At the lower end of the billiard-table wasan individual in an arm-chair, and a wig, whom we afterwardsdiscovered to be the registrar; and seated behind a little desk, near the door, were a respectable-looking man in black, of abouttwenty-stone weight or thereabouts, and a fat-faced, smirking, civil-looking body, in a black gown, black kid gloves, knee shorts, and silks, with a shirt-frill in his bosom, curls on his head, anda silver staff in his hand, whom we had no difficulty inrecognising as the officer of the Court. The latter, indeed, speedily set our mind at rest upon this point, for, advancing toour elbow, and opening a conversation forthwith, he hadcommunicated to us, in less than five minutes, that he was theapparitor, and the other the court-keeper; that this was the ArchesCourt, and therefore the counsel wore red gowns, and the proctorsfur collars; and that when the other Courts sat there, they didn'twear red gowns or fur collars either; with many other scraps ofintelligence equally interesting. Besides these two officers, there was a little thin old man, with long grizzly hair, crouchedin a remote corner, whose duty, our communicative friend informedus, was to ring a large hand-bell when the Court opened in themorning, and who, for aught his appearance betokened to thecontrary, might have been similarly employed for the last twocenturies at least. 

The red-faced gentleman in the tortoise-shell spectacles had gotall the talk to himself just then, and very well he was doing it, too, only he spoke very fast, but that was habit; and rather thick, but that was good living. So we had plenty of time to look aboutus. There was one individual who amused us mightily. This was oneof the bewigged gentlemen in the red robes, who was straddlingbefore the fire in the centre of the Court, in the attitude of thebrazen Colossus, to the complete exclusion of everybody else. Hehad gathered up his robe behind, in much the same manner as aslovenly woman would her petticoats on a very dirty day, in orderthat he might feel the full warmth of the fire. His wig was put onall awry, with the tail straggling about his neck; his scanty greytrousers and short black gaiters, made in the worst possible style, imported an additional inelegant appearance to his uncouth person;and his limp, badly-starched shirt-collar almost obscured his eyes. We shall never be able to claim any credit as a physiognomistagain, for, after a careful scrutiny of this gentleman'scountenance, we had come to the conclusion that it bespoke nothingbut conceit and silliness, when our friend with the silver staffwhispered in our ear that he was no other than a doctor of civillaw, and heaven knows what besides. So of course we were mistaken, and he must be a very talented man. He conceals it so well though--perhaps with the merciful view of not astonishing ordinary peopletoo much--that you would suppose him to be one of the stupidestdogs alive. 

The gentleman in the spectacles having concluded his judgment, anda few minutes having been allowed to elapse, to afford time for thebuzz of the Court to subside, the registrar called on the nextcause, which was 'the office of the Judge promoted by Bumpleagainst Sludberry. ' A general movement was visible in the Court, at this announcement, and the obliging functionary with silverstaff whispered us that 'there would be some fun now, for this wasa brawling case. '

We were not rendered much the wiser by this piece of information, till we found by the opening speech of the counsel for thepromoter, that, under a half-obsolete statute of one of theEdwards, the court was empowered to visit with the penalty ofexcommunication, any person who should be proved guilty of thecrime of 'brawling, ' or 'smiting, ' in any church, or vestryadjoining thereto; and it appeared, by some eight-and-twentyaffidavits, which were duly referred to, that on a certain night, at a certain vestry-meeting, in a certain parish particularly setforth, Thomas Sludberry, the party appeared against in that suit, had made use of, and applied to Michael Bumple, the promoter, thewords 'You be blowed;' and that, on the said Michael Bumple andothers remonstrating with the said Thomas Sludberry, on theimpropriety of his conduct, the said Thomas Sludberry repeated theaforesaid expression, 'You be blowed;' and furthermore desired andrequested to know, whether the said Michael Bumple 'wanted anythingfor himself;' adding, 'that if the said Michael Bumple did wantanything for himself, he, the said Thomas Sludberry, was the man togive it him;' at the same time making use of other heinous andsinful expressions, all of which, Bumple submitted, came within theintent and meaning of the Act; and therefore he, for the soul'shealth and chastening of Sludberry, prayed for sentence ofexcommunication against him accordingly. 

Upon these facts a long argument was entered into, on both sides, to the great edification of a number of persons interested in theparochial squabbles, who crowded the court; and when some very longand grave speeches had been made pro and con, the red-facedgentleman in the tortoise-shell spectacles took a review of thecase, which occupied half an hour more, and then pronounced uponSludberry the awful sentence of excommunication for a fortnight, and payment of the costs of the suit. Upon this, Sludberry, whowas a little, red-faced, sly-looking, ginger-beer seller, addressedthe court, and said, if they'd be good enough to take off thecosts, and excommunicate him for the term of his natural lifeinstead, it would be much more convenient to him, for he never wentto church at all. To this appeal the gentleman in the spectaclesmade no other reply than a look of virtuous indignation; andSludberry and his friends retired. As the man with the silverstaff informed us that the court was on the point of rising, weretired too--pondering, as we walked away, upon the beautifulspirit of these ancient ecclesiastical laws, the kind andneighbourly feelings they are calculated to awaken, and the strongattachment to religious institutions which they cannot fail toengender. 

We were so lost in these meditations, that we had turned into thestreet, and run up against a door-post, before we recollected wherewe were walking. On looking upwards to see what house we hadstumbled upon, the words 'Prerogative-Office, ' written in largecharacters, met our eye; and as we were in a sight-seeing humourand the place was a public one, we walked in. 

The room into which we walked, was a long, busy-looking place, partitioned off, on either side, into a variety of little boxes, inwhich a few clerks were engaged in copying or examining deeds. Down the centre of the room were several desks nearly breast high, at each of which, three or four people were standing, poring overlarge volumes. As we knew that they were searching for wills, theyattracted our attention at once. 

It was curious to contrast the lazy indifference of the attorneys'clerks who were making a search for some legal purpose, with theair of earnestness and interest which distinguished the strangersto the place, who were looking up the will of some deceasedrelative; the former pausing every now and then with an impatientyawn, or raising their heads to look at the people who passed upand down the room; the latter stooping over the book, and runningdown column after column of names in the deepest abstraction. 

There was one little dirty-faced man in a blue apron, who after awhole morning's search, extending some fifty years back, had justfound the will to which he wished to refer, which one of theofficials was reading to him in a low hurried voice from a thickvellum book with large clasps. It was perfectly evident that themore the clerk read, the less the man with the blue apronunderstood about the matter. When the volume was first broughtdown, he took off his hat, smoothed down his hair, smiled withgreat self-satisfaction, and looked up in the reader's face withthe air of a man who had made up his mind to recollect every wordhe heard. The first two or three lines were intelligible enough;but then the technicalities began, and the little man began to lookrather dubious. Then came a whole string of complicated trusts, and he was regularly at sea. As the reader proceeded, it was quiteapparent that it was a hopeless case, and the little man, with hismouth open and his eyes fixed upon his face, looked on with anexpression of bewilderment and perplexity irresistibly ludicrous. 

A little further on, a hard-featured old man with a deeply-wrinkledface, was intently perusing a lengthy will with the aid of a pairof horn spectacles: occasionally pausing from his task, and slilynoting down some brief memorandum of the bequests contained in it. Every wrinkle about his toothless mouth, and sharp keen eyes, toldof avarice and cunning. His clothes were nearly threadbare, but itwas easy to see that he wore them from choice and not fromnecessity; all his looks and gestures down to the very smallpinches of snuff which he every now and then took from a little tincanister, told of wealth, and penury, and avarice. 

As he leisurely closed the register, put up his spectacles, andfolded his scraps of paper in a large leathern pocket-book, wethought what a nice hard bargain he was driving with some poverty-stricken legatee, who, tired of waiting year after year, until somelife-interest should fall in, was selling his chance, just as itbegan to grow most valuable, for a twelfth part of its worth. Itwas a good speculation--a very safe one. The old man stowed hispocket-book carefully in the breast of his great-coat, and hobbledaway with a leer of triumph. That will had made him ten yearsyounger at the lowest computation. 

Having commenced our observations, we should certainly haveextended them to another dozen of people at least, had not a suddenshutting up and putting away of the worm-eaten old books, warned usthat the time for closing the office had arrived; and thus deprivedus of a pleasure, and spared our readers an infliction. 

We naturally fell into a train of reflection as we walkedhomewards, upon the curious old records of likings and dislikings;of jealousies and revenges; of affection defying the power ofdeath, and hatred pursued beyond the grave, which thesedepositories contain; silent but striking tokens, some of them, ofexcellence of heart, and nobleness of soul; melancholy examples, others, of the worst passions of human nature. How many men asthey lay speechless and helpless on the bed of death, would havegiven worlds but for the strength and power to blot out the silentevidence of animosity and bitterness, which now stands registeredagainst them in Doctors' Commons!

CHAPTER IX--LONDON RECREATIONS

The wish of persons in the humbler classes of life, to ape themanners and customs of those whom fortune has placed above them, isoften the subject of remark, and not unfrequently of complaint. The inclination may, and no doubt does, exist to a great extent, among the small gentility--the would-be aristocrats--of the middleclasses. Tradesmen and clerks, with fashionable novel-readingfamilies, and circulating-library-subscribing daughters, get upsmall assemblies in humble imitation of Almack's, and promenade thedingy 'large room' of some second-rate hotel with as muchcomplacency as the enviable few who are privileged to exhibit theirmagnificence in that exclusive haunt of fashion and foolery. Aspiring young ladies, who read flaming accounts of some 'fancyfair in high life, ' suddenly grow desperately charitable; visionsof admiration and matrimony float before their eyes; somewonderfully meritorious institution, which, by the strangestaccident in the world, has never been heard of before, isdiscovered to be in a languishing condition: Thomson's great room, or Johnson's nursery-ground, is forthwith engaged, and theaforesaid young ladies, from mere charity, exhibit themselves forthree days, from twelve to four, for the small charge of oneshilling per head! With the exception of these classes of society, however, and a few weak and insignificant persons, we do not thinkthe attempt at imitation to which we have alluded, prevails in anygreat degree. The different character of the recreations ofdifferent classes, has often afforded us amusement; and we havechosen it for the subject of our present sketch, in the hope thatit may possess some amusement for our readers. 

If the regular City man, who leaves Lloyd's at five o'clock, anddrives home to Hackney, Clapton, Stamford-hill, or elsewhere, canbe said to have any daily recreation beyond his dinner, it is hisgarden. He never does anything to it with his own hands; but hetakes great pride in it notwithstanding; and if you are desirous ofpaying your addresses to the youngest daughter, be sure to be inraptures with every flower and shrub it contains. If your povertyof expression compel you to make any distinction between the two, we would certainly recommend your bestowing more admiration on hisgarden than his wine. He always takes a walk round it, before hestarts for town in the morning, and is particularly anxious thatthe fish-pond should be kept specially neat. If you call on him onSunday in summer-time, about an hour before dinner, you will findhim sitting in an arm-chair, on the lawn behind the house, with astraw hat on, reading a Sunday paper. A short distance from himyou will most likely observe a handsome paroquet in a large brass-wire cage; ten to one but the two eldest girls are loitering in oneof the side walks accompanied by a couple of young gentlemen, whoare holding parasols over them--of course only to keep the sun off--while the younger children, with the under nursery-maid, arestrolling listlessly about, in the shade. Beyond these occasions, his delight in his garden appears to arise more from theconsciousness of possession than actual enjoyment of it. When hedrives you down to dinner on a week-day, he is rather fatigued withthe occupations of the morning, and tolerably cross into thebargain; but when the cloth is removed, and he has drank three orfour glasses of his favourite port, he orders the French windows ofhis dining-room (which of course look into the garden) to beopened, and throwing a silk handkerchief over his head, and leaningback in his arm-chair, descants at considerable length upon itsbeauty, and the cost of maintaining it. This is to impress you--who are a young friend of the family--with a due sense of theexcellence of the garden, and the wealth of its owner; and when hehas exhausted the subject, he goes to sleep. 

There is another and a very different class of men, whoserecreation is their garden. An individual of this class, residessome short distance from town--say in the Hampstead-road, or theKilburn-road, or any other road where the houses are small andneat, and have little slips of back garden. He and his wife--whois as clean and compact a little body as himself--have occupied thesame house ever since he retired from business twenty years ago. They have no family. They once had a son, who died at about fiveyears old. The child's portrait hangs over the mantelpiece in thebest sitting-room, and a little cart he used to draw about, iscarefully preserved as a relic. 

In fine weather the old gentleman is almost constantly in thegarden; and when it is too wet to go into it, he will look out ofthe window at it, by the hour together. He has always something todo there, and you will see him digging, and sweeping, and cutting, and planting, with manifest delight. In spring-time, there is noend to the sowing of seeds, and sticking little bits of wood overthem, with labels, which look like epitaphs to their memory; and inthe evening, when the sun has gone down, the perseverance withwhich he lugs a great watering-pot about is perfectly astonishing. The only other recreation he has, is the newspaper, which heperuses every day, from beginning to end, generally reading themost interesting pieces of intelligence to his wife, duringbreakfast. The old lady is very fond of flowers, as the hyacinth-glasses in the parlour-window, and geranium-pots in the littlefront court, testify. She takes great pride in the garden too:and when one of the four fruit-trees produces rather a largergooseberry than usual, it is carefully preserved under a wine-glasson the sideboard, for the edification of visitors, who are dulyinformed that Mr. So-and-so planted the tree which produced it, with his own hands. On a summer's evening, when the largewatering-pot has been filled and emptied some fourteen times, andthe old couple have quite exhausted themselves by trotting about, you will see them sitting happily together in the littlesummerhouse, enjoying the calm and peace of the twilight, andwatching the shadows as they fall upon the garden, and graduallygrowing thicker and more sombre, obscure the tints of their gayestflowers--no bad emblem of the years that have silently rolled overtheir heads, deadening in their course the brightest hues of earlyhopes and feelings which have long since faded away. These aretheir only recreations, and they require no more. They have withinthemselves, the materials of comfort and content; and the onlyanxiety of each, is to die before the other. 

This is no ideal sketch. There USED to be many old people of thisdescription; their numbers may have diminished, and may decreasestill more. Whether the course female education has taken of latedays--whether the pursuit of giddy frivolities, and empty nothings, has tended to unfit women for that quiet domestic life, in whichthey show far more beautifully than in the most crowded assembly, is a question we should feel little gratification in discussing:we hope not. 

Let us turn now, to another portion of the London population, whoserecreations present about as strong a contrast as can well beconceived--we mean the Sunday pleasurers; and let us beg ourreaders to imagine themselves stationed by our side in some well-known rural 'Tea-gardens. '

The heat is intense this afternoon, and the people, of whom thereare additional parties arriving every moment, look as warm as thetables which have been recently painted, and have the appearance ofbeing red-hot. What a dust and noise! Men and women--boys andgirls--sweethearts and married people--babies in arms, and childrenin chaises--pipes and shrimps--cigars and periwinkles--tea andtobacco. Gentlemen, in alarming waistcoats, and steel watch-guards, promenading about, three abreast, with surprising dignity(or as the gentleman in the next box facetiously observes, 'cuttingit uncommon fat!')--ladies, with great, long, white pocket-handkerchiefs like small table-cloths, in their hands, chasing oneanother on the grass in the most playful and interesting manner, with the view of attracting the attention of the aforesaidgentlemen--husbands in perspective ordering bottles of ginger-beerfor the objects of their affections, with a lavish disregard ofexpense; and the said objects washing down huge quantities of'shrimps' and 'winkles, ' with an equal disregard of their ownbodily health and subsequent comfort--boys, with great silk hatsjust balanced on the top of their heads, smoking cigars, and tryingto look as if they liked them--gentlemen in pink shirts and bluewaistcoats, occasionally upsetting either themselves, or somebodyelse, with their own canes. 

Some of the finery of these people provokes a smile, but they areall clean, and happy, and disposed to be good-natured and sociable. Those two motherly-looking women in the smart pelisses, who arechatting so confidentially, inserting a 'ma'am' at every fourthword, scraped an acquaintance about a quarter of an hour ago: itoriginated in admiration of the little boy who belongs to one ofthem--that diminutive specimen of mortality in the three-corneredpink satin hat with black feathers. The two men in the blue coatsand drab trousers, who are walking up and down, smoking theirpipes, are their husbands. The party in the opposite box are apretty fair specimen of the generality of the visitors. These arethe father and mother, and old grandmother: a young man and woman, and an individual addressed by the euphonious title of 'UncleBill, ' who is evidently the wit of the party. They have some half-dozen children with them, but it is scarcely necessary to noticethe fact, for that is a matter of course here. Every woman in 'thegardens, ' who has been married for any length of time, must havehad twins on two or three occasions; it is impossible to accountfor the extent of juvenile population in any other way. 

Observe the inexpressible delight of the old grandmother, at UncleBill's splendid joke of 'tea for four: bread-and-butter forforty;' and the loud explosion of mirth which follows his waferinga paper 'pigtail' on the waiter's collar. The young man isevidently 'keeping company' with Uncle Bill's niece: and UncleBill's hints--such as 'Don't forget me at the dinner, you know, ' 'Ishall look out for the cake, Sally, ' 'I'll be godfather to yourfirst--wager it's a boy, ' and so forth, are equally embarrassing tothe young people, and delightful to the elder ones. As to the oldgrandmother, she is in perfect ecstasies, and does nothing butlaugh herself into fits of coughing, until they have finished the'gin-and-water warm with, ' of which Uncle Bill ordered 'glassesround' after tea, 'just to keep the night air out, and to do it upcomfortable and riglar arter sitch an as-tonishing hot day!'

It is getting dark, and the people begin to move. The fieldleading to town is quite full of them; the little hand-chaises aredragged wearily along, the children are tired, and amuse themselvesand the company generally by crying, or resort to the much morepleasant expedient of going to sleep--the mothers begin to wishthey were at home again--sweethearts grow more sentimental thanever, as the time for parting arrives--the gardens look mournfulenough, by the light of the two lanterns which hang against thetrees for the convenience of smokers--and the waiters who have beenrunning about incessantly for the last six hours, think they feel alittle tired, as they count their glasses and their gains. 

CHAPTER X--THE RIVER

'Are you fond of the water?' is a question very frequently asked, in hot summer weather, by amphibious-looking young men. 'Very, ' isthe general reply. 'An't you?'--'Hardly ever off it, ' is theresponse, accompanied by sundry adjectives, expressive of thespeaker's heartfelt admiration of that element. Now, with allrespect for the opinion of society in general, and cutter clubs inparticular, we humbly suggest that some of the most painfulreminiscences in the mind of every individual who has occasionallydisported himself on the Thames, must be connected with his aquaticrecreations. Who ever heard of a successful water-party?--or toput the question in a still more intelligible form, who ever sawone? We have been on water excursions out of number, but wesolemnly declare that we cannot call to mind one single occasion ofthe kind, which was not marked by more miseries than any one wouldsuppose could be reasonably crowded into the space of some eight ornine hours. Something has always gone wrong. Either the cork ofthe salad-dressing has come out, or the most anxiously expectedmember of the party has not come out, or the most disagreeable manin company would come out, or a child or two have fallen into thewater, or the gentleman who undertook to steer has endangeredeverybody's life all the way, or the gentlemen who volunteered torow have been 'out of practice, ' and performed very alarmingevolutions, putting their oars down into the water and not beingable to get them up again, or taking terrific pulls without puttingthem in at all; in either case, pitching over on the backs of theirheads with startling violence, and exhibiting the soles of theirpumps to the 'sitters' in the boat, in a very humiliating manner. 

We grant that the banks of the Thames are very beautiful atRichmond and Twickenham, and other distant havens, often soughtthough seldom reached; but from the 'Red-us' back to Blackfriars-bridge, the scene is wonderfully changed. The Penitentiary is anoble building, no doubt, and the sportive youths who 'go in' atthat particular part of the river, on a summer's evening, may beall very well in perspective; but when you are obliged to keep inshore coming home, and the young ladies will colour up, and lookperseveringly the other way, while the married dittos coughslightly, and stare very hard at the water, you feel awkward--especially if you happen to have been attempting the most distantapproach to sentimentality, for an hour or two previously. 

Although experience and suffering have produced in our minds theresult we have just stated, we are by no means blind to a propersense of the fun which a looker-on may extract from the amateurs ofboating. What can be more amusing than Searle's yard on a fineSunday morning? It's a Richmond tide, and some dozen boats arepreparing for the reception of the parties who have engaged them. Two or three fellows in great rough trousers and Guernsey shirts, are getting them ready by easy stages; now coming down the yardwith a pair of sculls and a cushion--then having a chat with the'Jack, ' who, like all his tribe, seems to be wholly incapable ofdoing anything but lounging about--then going back again, andreturning with a rudder-line and a stretcher--then solacingthemselves with another chat--and then wondering, with their handsin their capacious pockets, 'where them gentlemen's got to asordered the six. ' One of these, the head man, with the legs of histrousers carefully tucked up at the bottom, to admit the water, wepresume--for it is an element in which he is infinitely more athome than on land--is quite a character, and shares with thedefunct oyster-swallower the celebrated name of 'Dando. ' Watchhim, as taking a few minutes' respite from his toils, henegligently seats himself on the edge of a boat, and fans his broadbushy chest with a cap scarcely half so furry. Look at hismagnificent, though reddish whiskers, and mark the somewhat nativehumour with which he 'chaffs' the boys and 'prentices, or cunninglygammons the gen'lm'n into the gift of a glass of gin, of which weverily believe he swallows in one day as much as any six ordinarymen, without ever being one atom the worse for it. 

But the party arrives, and Dando, relieved from his state ofuncertainty, starts up into activity. They approach in fullaquatic costume, with round blue jackets, striped shirts, and capsof all sizes and patterns, from the velvet skull-cap of Frenchmanufacture, to the easy head-dress familiar to the students of theold spelling-books, as having, on the authority of the portrait, formed part of the costume of the Reverend Mr. Dilworth. 

This is the most amusing time to observe a regular Sunday water-party. There has evidently been up to this period noinconsiderable degree of boasting on everybody's part relative tohis knowledge of navigation; the sight of the water rapidly coolstheir courage, and the air of self-denial with which each of theminsists on somebody else's taking an oar, is perfectly delightful. At length, after a great deal of changing and fidgeting, consequentupon the election of a stroke-oar: the inability of one gentlemanto pull on this side, of another to pull on that, and of a third topull at all, the boat's crew are seated. 'Shove her off!' criesthe cockswain, who looks as easy and comfortable as if he weresteering in the Bay of Biscay. The order is obeyed; the boat isimmediately turned completely round, and proceeds towardsWestminster-bridge, amidst such a splashing and struggling as neverwas seen before, except when the Royal George went down. 'Backwa'ater, sir, ' shouts Dando, 'Back wa'ater, you sir, aft;' uponwhich everybody thinking he must be the individual referred to, they all back water, and back comes the boat, stern first, to thespot whence it started. 'Back water, you sir, aft; pull round, yousir, for'ad, can't you?' shouts Dando, in a frenzy of excitement. 'Pull round, Tom, can't you?' re-echoes one of the party. 'Toman't for'ad, ' replies another. 'Yes, he is, ' cries a third; andthe unfortunate young man, at the imminent risk of breaking ablood-vessel, pulls and pulls, until the head of the boat fairlylies in the direction of Vauxhall-bridge. 'That's right--now pullall on you!' shouts Dando again, adding, in an under-tone, tosomebody by him, 'Blowed if hever I see sich a set of muffs!' andaway jogs the boat in a zigzag direction, every one of the six oarsdipping into the water at a different time; and the yard is oncemore clear, until the arrival of the next party. 

A well-contested rowing-match on the Thames, is a very lively andinteresting scene. The water is studded with boats of all sorts, kinds, and descriptions; places in the coal-barges at the differentwharfs are let to crowds of spectators, beer and tobacco flowfreely about; men, women, and children wait for the start inbreathless expectation; cutters of six and eight oars glide gentlyup and down, waiting to accompany their proteges during the race;bands of music add to the animation, if not to the harmony of thescene; groups of watermen are assembled at the different stairs, discussing the merits of the respective candidates; and the prizewherry, which is rowed slowly about by a pair of sculls, is anobject of general interest. 

Two o'clock strikes, and everybody looks anxiously in the directionof the bridge through which the candidates for the prize will come--half-past two, and the general attention which has been preservedso long begins to flag, when suddenly a gun is heard, and a noiseof distant hurra'ing along each bank of the river--every head isbent forward--the noise draws nearer and nearer--the boats whichhave been waiting at the bridge start briskly up the river, and awell-manned galley shoots through the arch, the sitters cheering onthe boats behind them, which are not yet visible. 

'Here they are, ' is the general cry--and through darts the firstboat, the men in her, stripped to the skin, and exerting everymuscle to preserve the advantage they have gained--four other boatsfollow close astern; there are not two boats' length between them--the shouting is tremendous, and the interest intense. 'Go on, Pink'--'Give it her, Red'--'Sulliwin for ever'--'Bravo! George'--'Now, Tom, now--now--now--why don't your partner stretch out?'--'Two pots to a pint on Yellow, ' &c. , &c. Every little public-housefires its gun, and hoists its flag; and the men who win the heat, come in, amidst a splashing and shouting, and banging andconfusion, which no one can imagine who has not witnessed it, andof which any description would convey a very faint idea. 

One of the most amusing places we know is the steam-wharf of theLondon Bridge, or St. Katharine's Dock Company, on a Saturdaymorning in summer, when the Gravesend and Margate steamers areusually crowded to excess; and as we have just taken a glance atthe river above bridge, we hope our readers will not object toaccompany us on board a Gravesend packet. 

Coaches are every moment setting down at the entrance to the wharf, and the stare of bewildered astonishment with which the 'fares'resign themselves and their luggage into the hands of the porters, who seize all the packages at once as a matter of course, and runaway with them, heaven knows where, is laughable in the extreme. AMargate boat lies alongside the wharf, the Gravesend boat (whichstarts first) lies alongside that again; and as a temporarycommunication is formed between the two, by means of a plank andhand-rail, the natural confusion of the scene is by no meansdiminished. 

'Gravesend?' inquires a stout father of a stout family, who followhim, under the guidance of their mother, and a servant, at the nosmall risk of two or three of them being left behind in theconfusion. 'Gravesend?'

'Pass on, if you please, sir, ' replies the attendant--'other boat, sir. '

Hereupon the stout father, being rather mystified, and the stoutmother rather distracted by maternal anxiety, the whole partydeposit themselves in the Margate boat, and after havingcongratulated himself on having secured very comfortable seats, thestout father sallies to the chimney to look for his luggage, whichhe has a faint recollection of having given some man, something, totake somewhere. No luggage, however, bearing the most remoteresemblance to his own, in shape or form, is to be discovered; onwhich the stout father calls very loudly for an officer, to whom hestates the case, in the presence of another father of anotherfamily--a little thin man--who entirely concurs with him (the stoutfather) in thinking that it's high time something was done withthese steam companies, and that as the Corporation Bill failed todo it, something else must; for really people's property is not tobe sacrificed in this way; and that if the luggage isn't restoredwithout delay, he will take care it shall be put in the papers, forthe public is not to be the victim of these great monopolies. Tothis, the officer, in his turn, replies, that that company, eversince it has been St. Kat'rine's Dock Company, has protected lifeand property; that if it had been the London Bridge Wharf Company, indeed, he shouldn't have wondered, seeing that the morality ofthat company (they being the opposition) can't be answered for, byno one; but as it is, he's convinced there must be some mistake, and he wouldn't mind making a solemn oath afore a magistrate thatthe gentleman'll find his luggage afore he gets to Margate. 

Here the stout father, thinking he is making a capital point, replies, that as it happens, he is not going to Margate at all, andthat 'Passenger to Gravesend' was on the luggage, in letters offull two inches long; on which the officer rapidly explains themistake, and the stout mother, and the stout children, and theservant, are hurried with all possible despatch on board theGravesend boat, which they reached just in time to discover thattheir luggage is there, and that their comfortable seats are not. Then the bell, which is the signal for the Gravesend boat starting, begins to ring most furiously: and people keep time to the bell, by running in and out of our boat at a double-quick pace. The bellstops; the boat starts: people who have been taking leave of theirfriends on board, are carried away against their will; and peoplewho have been taking leave of their friends on shore, find thatthey have performed a very needless ceremony, in consequence oftheir not being carried away at all. The regular passengers, whohave season tickets, go below to breakfast; people who havepurchased morning papers, compose themselves to read them; andpeople who have not been down the river before, think that both theshipping and the water, look a great deal better at a distance. 

When we get down about as far as Blackwall, and begin to move at aquicker rate, the spirits of the passengers appear to rise inproportion. Old women who have brought large wicker hand-basketswith them, set seriously to work at the demolition of heavysandwiches, and pass round a wine-glass, which is frequentlyreplenished from a flat bottle like a stomach-warmer, withconsiderable glee: handing it first to the gentleman in theforaging-cap, who plays the harp--partly as an expression ofsatisfaction with his previous exertions, and partly to induce himto play 'Dumbledumbdeary, ' for 'Alick' to dance to; which beingdone, Alick, who is a damp earthy child in red worsted socks, takescertain small jumps upon the deck, to the unspeakable satisfactionof his family circle. Girls who have brought the first volume ofsome new novel in their reticule, become extremely plaintive, andexpatiate to Mr. Brown, or young Mr. O'Brien, who has been lookingover them, on the blueness of the sky, and brightness of the water;on which Mr. Brown or Mr. O'Brien, as the case may be, remarks in alow voice that he has been quite insensible of late to the beautiesof nature, that his whole thoughts and wishes have centred in oneobject alone--whereupon the young lady looks up, and failing in herattempt to appear unconscious, looks down again; and turns over thenext leaf with great difficulty, in order to afford opportunity fora lengthened pressure of the hand. 

Telescopes, sandwiches, and glasses of brandy-and-water coldwithout, begin to be in great requisition; and bashful men who havebeen looking down the hatchway at the engine, find, to their greatrelief, a subject on which they can converse with one another--anda copious one too--Steam. 

'Wonderful thing steam, sir. ' 'Ah! (a deep-drawn sigh) it isindeed, sir. ' 'Great power, sir. ' 'Immense--immense!' 'Greatdeal done by steam, sir. ' 'Ah! (another sigh at the immensity ofthe subject, and a knowing shake of the head) you may say that, sir. ' 'Still in its infancy, they say, sir. ' Novel remarks ofthis kind, are generally the commencement of a conversation whichis prolonged until the conclusion of the trip, and, perhaps, laysthe foundation of a speaking acquaintance between half-a-dozengentlemen, who, having their families at Gravesend, take seasontickets for the boat, and dine on board regularly every afternoon. 

CHAPTER XI--ASTLEY'S

We never see any very large, staring, black Roman capitals, in abook, or shop-window, or placarded on a wall, without theirimmediately recalling to our mind an indistinct and confusedrecollection of the time when we were first initiated in themysteries of the alphabet. We almost fancy we see the pin's pointfollowing the letter, to impress its form more strongly on ourbewildered imagination; and wince involuntarily, as we remember thehard knuckles with which the reverend old lady who instilled intoour mind the first principles of education for ninepence per week, or ten and sixpence per quarter, was wont to poke our juvenile headoccasionally, by way of adjusting the confusion of ideas in whichwe were generally involved. The same kind of feeling pursues us inmany other instances, but there is no place which recalls sostrongly our recollections of childhood as Astley's. It was not a'Royal Amphitheatre' in those days, nor had Ducrow arisen to shedthe light of classic taste and portable gas over the sawdust of thecircus; but the whole character of the place was the same, thepieces were the same, the clown's jokes were the same, the riding-masters were equally grand, the comic performers equally witty, thetragedians equally hoarse, and the 'highly-trained chargers'equally spirited. Astley's has altered for the better--we havechanged for the worse. Our histrionic taste is gone, and withshame we confess, that we are far more delighted and amused withthe audience, than with the pageantry we once so highlyappreciated. 

We like to watch a regular Astley's party in the Easter orMidsummer holidays--pa and ma, and nine or ten children, varyingfrom five foot six to two foot eleven: from fourteen years of ageto four. We had just taken our seat in one of the boxes, in thecentre of the house, the other night, when the next was occupied byjust such a party as we should have attempted to describe, had wedepicted our beau ideal of a group of Astley's visitors. 

First of all, there came three little boys and a little girl, who, in pursuance of pa's directions, issued in a very audible voicefrom the box-door, occupied the front row; then two more littlegirls were ushered in by a young lady, evidently the governess. Then came three more little boys, dressed like the first, in bluejackets and trousers, with lay-down shirt-collars: then a child ina braided frock and high state of astonishment, with very largeround eyes, opened to their utmost width, was lifted over theseats--a process which occasioned a considerable display of littlepink legs--then came ma and pa, and then the eldest son, a boy offourteen years old, who was evidently trying to look as if he didnot belong to the family. 

The first five minutes were occupied in taking the shawls off thelittle girls, and adjusting the bows which ornamented their hair;then it was providentially discovered that one of the little boyswas seated behind a pillar and could not see, so the governess wasstuck behind the pillar, and the boy lifted into her place. Thenpa drilled the boys, and directed the stowing away of their pocket-handkerchiefs, and ma having first nodded and winked to thegoverness to pull the girls' frocks a little more off theirshoulders, stood up to review the little troop--an inspection whichappeared to terminate much to her own satisfaction, for she lookedwith a complacent air at pa, who was standing up at the further endof the seat. Pa returned the glance, and blew his nose veryemphatically; and the poor governess peeped out from behind thepillar, and timidly tried to catch ma's eye, with a look expressiveof her high admiration of the whole family. Then two of the littleboys who had been discussing the point whether Astley's was morethan twice as large as Drury Lane, agreed to refer it to 'George'for his decision; at which 'George, ' who was no other than theyoung gentleman before noticed, waxed indignant, and remonstratedin no very gentle terms on the gross impropriety of having his namerepeated in so loud a voice at a public place, on which all thechildren laughed very heartily, and one of the little boys wound upby expressing his opinion, that 'George began to think himselfquite a man now, ' whereupon both pa and ma laughed too; and George(who carried a dress cane and was cultivating whiskers) mutteredthat 'William always was encouraged in his impertinence;' andassumed a look of profound contempt, which lasted the wholeevening. 

The play began, and the interest of the little boys knew no bounds. Pa was clearly interested too, although he very unsuccessfullyendeavoured to look as if he wasn't. As for ma, she was perfectlyovercome by the drollery of the principal comedian, and laughedtill every one of the immense bows on her ample cap trembled, atwhich the governess peeped out from behind the pillar again, andwhenever she could catch ma's eye, put her handkerchief to hermouth, and appeared, as in duty bound, to be in convulsions oflaughter also. Then when the man in the splendid armour vowed torescue the lady or perish in the attempt, the little boys applaudedvehemently, especially one little fellow who was apparently on avisit to the family, and had been carrying on a child's flirtation, the whole evening, with a small coquette of twelve years old, wholooked like a model of her mamma on a reduced scale; and who, incommon with the other little girls (who generally speaking haveeven more coquettishness about them than much older ones), lookedvery properly shocked, when the knight's squire kissed theprincess's confidential chambermaid. 

When the scenes in the circle commenced, the children were moredelighted than ever; and the wish to see what was going forward, completely conquering pa's dignity, he stood up in the box, andapplauded as loudly as any of them. Between each feat ofhorsemanship, the governess leant across to ma, and retailed theclever remarks of the children on that which had preceded: and ma, in the openness of her heart, offered the governess an acidulateddrop, and the governess, gratified to be taken notice of, retiredbehind her pillar again with a brighter countenance: and the wholeparty seemed quite happy, except the exquisite in the back of thebox, who, being too grand to take any interest in the children, andtoo insignificant to be taken notice of by anybody else, occupiedhimself, from time to time, in rubbing the place where the whiskersought to be, and was completely alone in his glory. 

We defy any one who has been to Astley's two or three times, and isconsequently capable of appreciating the perseverance with whichprecisely the same jokes are repeated night after night, and seasonafter season, not to be amused with one part of the performances atleast--we mean the scenes in the circle. For ourself, we know thatwhen the hoop, composed of jets of gas, is let down, the curtaindrawn up for the convenience of the half-price on their ejectmentfrom the ring, the orange-peel cleared away, and the sawdustshaken, with mathematical precision, into a complete circle, wefeel as much enlivened as the youngest child present; and actuallyjoin in the laugh which follows the clown's shrill shout of 'Herewe are!' just for old acquaintance' sake. Nor can we quite divestourself of our old feeling of reverence for the riding-master, whofollows the clown with a long whip in his hand, and bows to theaudience with graceful dignity. He is none of your second-rateriding-masters in nankeen dressing-gowns, with brown frogs, but theregular gentleman-attendant on the principal riders, who alwayswears a military uniform with a table-cloth inside the breast ofthe coat, in which costume he forcibly reminds one of a fowltrussed for roasting. He is--but why should we attempt to describethat of which no description can convey an adequate idea?Everybody knows the man, and everybody remembers his polishedboots, his graceful demeanour, stiff, as some misjudging personshave in their jealousy considered it, and the splendid head ofblack hair, parted high on the forehead, to impart to thecountenance an appearance of deep thought and poetic melancholy. His soft and pleasing voice, too, is in perfect unison with hisnoble bearing, as he humours the clown by indulging in a littlebadinage; and the striking recollection of his own dignity, withwhich he exclaims, 'Now, sir, if you please, inquire for MissWoolford, sir, ' can never be forgotten. The graceful air, too, with which he introduces Miss Woolford into the arena, and, afterassisting her to the saddle, follows her fairy courser round thecircle, can never fail to create a deep impression in the bosom ofevery female servant present. 

When Miss Woolford, and the horse, and the orchestra, all stoptogether to take breath, he urbanely takes part in some suchdialogue as the following (commenced by the clown): 'I say, sir!'--'Well, sir?' (it's always conducted in the politest manner. )--'Didyou ever happen to hear I was in the army, sir?'--'No, sir. '--'Oh, yes, sir--I can go through my exercise, sir. '--'Indeed, sir!'--'Shall I do it now, sir?'--'If you please, sir; come, sir--makehaste' (a cut with the long whip, and 'Ha' done now--I don't likeit, ' from the clown). Here the clown throws himself on the ground, and goes through a variety of gymnastic convulsions, doublinghimself up, and untying himself again, and making himself look verylike a man in the most hopeless extreme of human agony, to thevociferous delight of the gallery, until he is interrupted by asecond cut from the long whip, and a request to see 'what MissWoolford's stopping for?' On which, to the inexpressible mirth ofthe gallery, he exclaims, 'Now, Miss Woolford, what can I come forto go, for to fetch, for to bring, for to carry, for to do, foryou, ma'am?' On the lady's announcing with a sweet smile that shewants the two flags, they are, with sundry grimaces, procured andhanded up; the clown facetiously observing after the performance ofthe latter ceremony--'He, he, oh! I say, sir, Miss Woolford knowsme; she smiled at me. ' Another cut from the whip, a burst from theorchestra, a start from the horse, and round goes Miss Woolfordagain on her graceful performance, to the delight of every memberof the audience, young or old. The next pause affords anopportunity for similar witticisms, the only additional fun beingthat of the clown making ludicrous grimaces at the riding-masterevery time his back is turned; and finally quitting the circle byjumping over his head, having previously directed his attentionanother way. 

Did any of our readers ever notice the class of people, who hangabout the stage-doors of our minor theatres in the daytime? Youwill rarely pass one of these entrances without seeing a group ofthree or four men conversing on the pavement, with an indescribablepublic-house-parlour swagger, and a kind of conscious air, peculiarto people of this description. They always seem to think they areexhibiting; the lamps are ever before them. That young fellow inthe faded brown coat, and very full light green trousers, pullsdown the wristbands of his check shirt, as ostentatiously as if itwere of the finest linen, and cocks the white hat of the summer-before-last as knowingly over his right eye, as if it were apurchase of yesterday. Look at the dirty white Berlin gloves, andthe cheap silk handkerchief stuck in the bosom of his threadbarecoat. Is it possible to see him for an instant, and not come tothe conclusion that he is the walking gentleman who wears a bluesurtout, clean collar, and white trousers, for half an hour, andthen shrinks into his worn-out scanty clothes: who has to boastnight after night of his splendid fortune, with the painfulconsciousness of a pound a-week and his boots to find; to talk ofhis father's mansion in the country, with a dreary recollection ofhis own two-pair back, in the New Cut; and to be envied andflattered as the favoured lover of a rich heiress, remembering allthe while that the ex-dancer at home is in the family way, and outof an engagement?

Next to him, perhaps, you will see a thin pale man, with a verylong face, in a suit of shining black, thoughtfully knocking thatpart of his boot which once had a heel, with an ash stick. He isthe man who does the heavy business, such as prosy fathers, virtuous servants, curates, landlords, and so forth. 

By the way, talking of fathers, we should very much like to seesome piece in which all the dramatis personae were orphans. Fathers are invariably great nuisances on the stage, and alwayshave to give the hero or heroine a long explanation of what wasdone before the curtain rose, usually commencing with 'It is nownineteen years, my dear child, since your blessed mother (here theold villain's voice falters) confided you to my charge. You werethen an infant, ' &c. , &c. Or else they have to discover, all of asudden, that somebody whom they have been in constant communicationwith, during three long acts, without the slightest suspicion, istheir own child: in which case they exclaim, 'Ah! what do I see?This bracelet! That smile! These documents! Those eyes! Can Ibelieve my senses?--It must be!--Yes--it is, it is my child!'--'Myfather!' exclaims the child; and they fall into each other's arms, and look over each other's shoulders, and the audience give threerounds of applause. 

To return from this digression, we were about to say, that theseare the sort of people whom you see talking, and attitudinising, outside the stage-doors of our minor theatres. At Astley's theyare always more numerous than at any other place. There isgenerally a groom or two, sitting on the window-sill, and two orthree dirty shabby-genteel men in checked neckerchiefs, and sallowlinen, lounging about, and carrying, perhaps, under one arm, a pairof stage shoes badly wrapped up in a piece of old newspaper. Someyears ago we used to stand looking, open-mouthed, at these men, with a feeling of mysterious curiosity, the very recollection ofwhich provokes a smile at the moment we are writing. We could notbelieve that the beings of light and elegance, in milk-whitetunics, salmon-coloured legs, and blue scarfs, who flitted on sleekcream-coloured horses before our eyes at night, with all the aid oflights, music, and artificial flowers, could be the pale, dissipated-looking creatures we beheld by day. 

We can hardly believe it now. Of the lower class of actors we haveseen something, and it requires no great exercise of imagination toidentify the walking gentleman with the 'dirty swell, ' the comicsinger with the public-house chairman, or the leading tragedianwith drunkenness and distress; but these other men are mysteriousbeings, never seen out of the ring, never beheld but in the costumeof gods and sylphs. With the exception of Ducrow, who can scarcelybe classed among them, who ever knew a rider at Astley's, or sawhim but on horseback? Can our friend in the military uniform everappear in threadbare attire, or descend to the comparatively un-wadded costume of every-day life? Impossible! We cannot--we willnot--believe it. 

CHAPTER XII--GREENWICH FAIR

If the Parks be 'the lungs of London, ' we wonder what GreenwichFair is--a periodical breaking out, we suppose, a sort of spring-rash: a three days' fever, which cools the blood for six monthsafterwards, and at the expiration of which London is restored toits old habits of plodding industry, as suddenly and completely asif nothing had ever happened to disturb them. 

In our earlier days, we were a constant frequenter of GreenwichFair, for years. We have proceeded to, and returned from it, inalmost every description of vehicle. We cannot conscientiouslydeny the charge of having once made the passage in a spring-van, accompanied by thirteen gentlemen, fourteen ladies, an unlimitednumber of children, and a barrel of beer; and we have a vaguerecollection of having, in later days, found ourself the eighthoutside, on the top of a hackney-coach, at something past fouro'clock in the morning, with a rather confused idea of our ownname, or place of residence. We have grown older since then, andquiet, and steady: liking nothing better than to spend our Easter, and all our other holidays, in some quiet nook, with people of whomwe shall never tire; but we think we still remember something ofGreenwich Fair, and of those who resort to it. At all events wewill try. 

The road to Greenwich during the whole of Easter Monday, is in astate of perpetual bustle and noise. Cabs, hackney-coaches, 'shay'carts, coal-waggons, stages, omnibuses, sociables, gigs, donkey-chaises--all crammed with people (for the question never is, whatthe horse can draw, but what the vehicle will hold), roll along attheir utmost speed; the dust flies in clouds, ginger-beer corks gooff in volleys, the balcony of every public-house is crowded withpeople, smoking and drinking, half the private houses are turnedinto tea-shops, fiddles are in great request, every little fruit-shop displays its stall of gilt gingerbread and penny toys;turnpike men are in despair; horses won't go on, and wheels willcome off; ladies in 'carawans' scream with fright at every freshconcussion, and their admirers find it necessary to sit remarkablyclose to them, by way of encouragement; servants-of-all-work, whoare not allowed to have followers, and have got a holiday for theday, make the most of their time with the faithful admirer whowaits for a stolen interview at the corner of the street everynight, when they go to fetch the beer--apprentices growsentimental, and straw-bonnet makers kind. Everybody is anxious toget on, and actuated by the common wish to be at the fair, or inthe park, as soon as possible. 

Pedestrians linger in groups at the roadside, unable to resist theallurements of the stout proprietress of the 'Jack-in-the-box, three shies a penny, ' or the more splendid offers of the man withthree thimbles and a pea on a little round board, who astonishesthe bewildered crowd with some such address as, 'Here's the sort o'game to make you laugh seven years arter you're dead, and turnev'ry air on your ed gray vith delight! Three thimbles and vunlittle pea--with a vun, two, three, and a two, three, vun: catchhim who can, look on, keep your eyes open, and niver say die! nivermind the change, and the expense: all fair and above board: themas don't play can't vin, and luck attend the ryal sportsman! Betany gen'lm'n any sum of money, from harf-a-crown up to a suverin, as he doesn't name the thimble as kivers the pea!' Here somegreenhorn whispers his friend that he distinctly saw the pea rollunder the middle thimble--an impression which is immediatelyconfirmed by a gentleman in top-boots, who is standing by, and who, in a low tone, regrets his own inability to bet, in consequence ofhaving unfortunately left his purse at home, but strongly urges thestranger not to neglect such a golden opportunity. The 'plant' issuccessful, the bet is made, the stranger of course loses: and thegentleman with the thimbles consoles him, as he pockets the money, with an assurance that it's 'all the fortin of war! this time Ivin, next time you vin: niver mind the loss of two bob and abender! Do it up in a small parcel, and break out in a freshplace. Here's the sort o' game, ' &c. --and the eloquent harangue, with such variations as the speaker's exuberant fancy suggests, isagain repeated to the gaping crowd, reinforced by the accession ofseveral new-comers. 

The chief place of resort in the daytime, after the public-houses, is the park, in which the principal amusement is to drag youngladies up the steep hill which leads to the Observatory, and thendrag them down again, at the very top of their speed, greatly tothe derangement of their curls and bonnet-caps, and much to theedification of lookers-on from below. 'Kiss in the Ring, ' and'Threading my Grandmother's Needle, ' too, are sports which receivetheir full share of patronage. Love-sick swains, under theinfluence of gin-and-water, and the tender passion, becomeviolently affectionate: and the fair objects of their regardenhance the value of stolen kisses, by a vast deal of struggling, and holding down of heads, and cries of 'Oh! Ha' done, then, George--Oh, do tickle him for me, Mary--Well, I never!' and similarLucretian ejaculations. Little old men and women, with a smallbasket under one arm, and a wine-glass, without a foot, in theother hand, tender 'a drop o' the right sort' to the differentgroups; and young ladies, who are persuaded to indulge in a drop ofthe aforesaid right sort, display a pleasing degree of reluctanceto taste it, and cough afterwards with great propriety. 

The old pensioners, who, for the moderate charge of a penny, exhibit the mast-house, the Thames and shipping, the place wherethe men used to hang in chains, and other interesting sights, through a telescope, are asked questions about objects within therange of the glass, which it would puzzle a Solomon to answer; andrequested to find out particular houses in particular streets, which it would have been a task of some difficulty for Mr. Horner(not the young gentleman who ate mince-pies with his thumb, but theman of Colosseum notoriety) to discover. Here and there, wheresome three or four couple are sitting on the grass together, youwill see a sun-burnt woman in a red cloak 'telling fortunes' andprophesying husbands, which it requires no extraordinaryobservation to describe, for the originals are before her. Thereupon, the lady concerned laughs and blushes, and ultimatelyburies her face in an imitation cambric handkerchief, and thegentleman described looks extremely foolish, and squeezes her hand, and fees the gipsy liberally; and the gipsy goes away, perfectlysatisfied herself, and leaving those behind her perfectly satisfiedalso: and the prophecy, like many other prophecies of greaterimportance, fulfils itself in time. 

But it grows dark: the crowd has gradually dispersed, and only afew stragglers are left behind. The light in the direction of thechurch shows that the fair is illuminated; and the distant noiseproves it to be filling fast. The spot, which half an hour ago wasringing with the shouts of boisterous mirth, is as calm and quietas if nothing could ever disturb its serenity: the fine old trees, the majestic building at their feet, with the noble river beyond, glistening in the moonlight, appear in all their beauty, and undertheir most favourable aspect; the voices of the boys, singing theirevening hymn, are borne gently on the air; and the humblestmechanic who has been lingering on the grass so pleasant to thefeet that beat the same dull round from week to week in the pavedstreets of London, feels proud to think as he surveys the scenebefore him, that he belongs to the country which has selected sucha spot as a retreat for its oldest and best defenders in thedecline of their lives. 

Five minutes' walking brings you to the fair; a scene calculated toawaken very different feelings. The entrance is occupied on eitherside by the vendors of gingerbread and toys: the stalls are gailylighted up, the most attractive goods profusely disposed, andunbonneted young ladies, in their zeal for the interest of theiremployers, seize you by the coat, and use all the blandishments of'Do, dear'--'There's a love'--'Don't be cross, now, ' &c. , to induceyou to purchase half a pound of the real spice nuts, of which themajority of the regular fair-goers carry a pound or two as apresent supply, tied up in a cotton pocket-handkerchief. Occasionally you pass a deal table, on which are exposed pen'orthsof pickled salmon (fennel included), in little white saucers:oysters, with shells as large as cheese-plates, and diversspecimens of a species of snail (WILKS, we think they are called), floating in a somewhat bilious-looking green liquid. Cigars, too, are in great demand; gentlemen must smoke, of course, and here theyare, two a penny, in a regular authentic cigar-box, with a lightedtallow candle in the centre. 

Imagine yourself in an extremely dense crowd, which swings you toand fro, and in and out, and every way but the right one; add tothis the screams of women, the shouts of boys, the clanging ofgongs, the firing of pistols, the ringing of bells, the bellowingsof speaking-trumpets, the squeaking of penny dittos, the noise of adozen bands, with three drums in each, all playing different tunesat the same time, the hallooing of showmen, and an occasional roarfrom the wild-beast shows; and you are in the very centre and heartof the fair. 

This immense booth, with the large stage in front, so brightlyilluminated with variegated lamps, and pots of burning fat, is'Richardson's, ' where you have a melodrama (with three murders anda ghost), a pantomime, a comic song, an overture, and someincidental music, all done in five-and-twenty minutes. 

The company are now promenading outside in all the dignity of wigs, spangles, red-ochre, and whitening. See with what a ferocious airthe gentleman who personates the Mexican chief, paces up and down, and with what an eye of calm dignity the principal tragedian gazeson the crowd below, or converses confidentially with the harlequin!The four clowns, who are engaged in a mock broadsword combat, maybe all very well for the low-minded holiday-makers; but these arethe people for the reflective portion of the community. They lookso noble in those Roman dresses, with their yellow legs and arms, long black curly heads, bushy eyebrows, and scowl expressive ofassassination, and vengeance, and everything else that is grand andsolemn. Then, the ladies--were there ever such innocent and awful-looking beings; as they walk up and down the platform in twos andthrees, with their arms round each other's waists, or leaning forsupport on one of those majestic men! Their spangled muslindresses and blue satin shoes and sandals (a LEETLE the worse forwear) are the admiration of all beholders; and the playful mannerin which they check the advances of the clown, is perfectlyenchanting. 

'Just a-going to begin! Pray come for'erd, come for'erd, ' exclaimsthe man in the countryman's dress, for the seventieth time: andpeople force their way up the steps in crowds. The band suddenlystrikes up, the harlequin and columbine set the example, reels areformed in less than no time, the Roman heroes place their arms a-kimbo, and dance with considerable agility; and the leading tragicactress, and the gentleman who enacts the 'swell' in the pantomime, foot it to perfection. 'All in to begin, ' shouts the manager, whenno more people can be induced to 'come for'erd, ' and away rush theleading members of the company to do the dreadful in the firstpiece. 

A change of performance takes place every day during the fair, butthe story of the tragedy is always pretty much the same. There isa rightful heir, who loves a young lady, and is beloved by her; anda wrongful heir, who loves her too, and isn't beloved by her; andthe wrongful heir gets hold of the rightful heir, and throws himinto a dungeon, just to kill him off when convenient, for whichpurpose he hires a couple of assassins--a good one and a bad one--who, the moment they are left alone, get up a little murder ontheir own account, the good one killing the bad one, and the badone wounding the good one. Then the rightful heir is discovered inprison, carefully holding a long chain in his hands, and seateddespondingly in a large arm-chair; and the young lady comes in totwo bars of soft music, and embraces the rightful heir; and thenthe wrongful heir comes in to two bars of quick music (technicallycalled 'a hurry'), and goes on in the most shocking manner, throwing the young lady about as if she was nobody, and calling therightful heir 'Ar-recreant--ar-wretch!' in a very loud voice, whichanswers the double purpose of displaying his passion, andpreventing the sound being deadened by the sawdust. The interestbecomes intense; the wrongful heir draws his sword, and rushes onthe rightful heir; a blue smoke is seen, a gong is heard, and atall white figure (who has been all this time, behind the arm-chair, covered over with a table-cloth), slowly rises to the tuneof 'Oft in the stilly night. ' This is no other than the ghost ofthe rightful heir's father, who was killed by the wrongful heir'sfather, at sight of which the wrongful heir becomes apoplectic, andis literally 'struck all of a heap, ' the stage not being largeenough to admit of his falling down at full length. Then the goodassassin staggers in, and says he was hired in conjunction with thebad assassin, by the wrongful heir, to kill the rightful heir; andhe's killed a good many people in his time, but he's very sorry forit, and won't do so any more--a promise which he immediatelyredeems, by dying off hand without any nonsense about it. Then therightful heir throws down his chain; and then two men, a sailor, and a young woman (the tenantry of the rightful heir) come in, andthe ghost makes dumb motions to them, which they, by supernaturalinterference, understand--for no one else can; and the ghost (whocan't do anything without blue fire) blesses the rightful heir andthe young lady, by half suffocating them with smoke: and then amuffin-bell rings, and the curtain drops. 

The exhibitions next in popularity to these itinerant theatres arethe travelling menageries, or, to speak more intelligibly, the'Wild-beast shows, ' where a military band in beef-eater's costume, with leopard-skin caps, play incessantly; and where large highly-coloured representations of tigers tearing men's heads open, and alion being burnt with red-hot irons to induce him to drop hisvictim, are hung up outside, by way of attracting visitors. 

The principal officer at these places is generally a very tall, hoarse man, in a scarlet coat, with a cane in his hand, with whichhe occasionally raps the pictures we have just noticed, by way ofillustrating his description--something in this way. 'Here, here, here; the lion, the lion (tap), exactly as he is represented on thecanvas outside (three taps): no waiting, remember; no deception. The fe-ro-cious lion (tap, tap) who bit off the gentleman's headlast Cambervel vos a twelvemonth, and has killed on the aweragethree keepers a-year ever since he arrived at matoority. No extracharge on this account recollect; the price of admission is onlysixpence. ' This address never fails to produce a considerablesensation, and sixpences flow into the treasury with wonderfulrapidity. 

The dwarfs are also objects of great curiosity, and as a dwarf, agiantess, a living skeleton, a wild Indian, 'a young lady ofsingular beauty, with perfectly white hair and pink eyes, ' and twoor three other natural curiosities, are usually exhibited togetherfor the small charge of a penny, they attract very numerousaudiences. The best thing about a dwarf is, that he has always alittle box, about two feet six inches high, into which, by longpractice, he can just manage to get, by doubling himself up like aboot-jack; this box is painted outside like a six-roomed house, andas the crowd see him ring a bell, or fire a pistol out of thefirst-floor window, they verily believe that it is his ordinarytown residence, divided like other mansions into drawing-rooms, dining-parlour, and bedchambers. Shut up in this case, theunfortunate little object is brought out to delight the throng byholding a facetious dialogue with the proprietor: in the course ofwhich, the dwarf (who is always particularly drunk) pledges himselfto sing a comic song inside, and pays various compliments to theladies, which induce them to 'come for'erd' with great alacrity. As a giant is not so easily moved, a pair of indescribables of mostcapacious dimensions, and a huge shoe, are usually brought out, into which two or three stout men get all at once, to theenthusiastic delight of the crowd, who are quite satisfied with thesolemn assurance that these habiliments form part of the giant'severyday costume. 

The grandest and most numerously-frequented booth in the wholefair, however, is 'The Crown and Anchor'--a temporary ball-room--weforget how many hundred feet long, the price of admission to whichis one shilling. Immediately on your right hand as you enter, after paying your money, is a refreshment place, at which coldbeef, roast and boiled, French rolls, stout, wine, tongue, ham, even fowls, if we recollect right, are displayed in tempting array. There is a raised orchestra, and the place is boarded all the waydown, in patches, just wide enough for a country dance. 

There is no master of the ceremonies in this artificial Eden--allis primitive, unreserved, and unstudied. The dust is blinding, theheat insupportable, the company somewhat noisy, and in the highestspirits possible: the ladies, in the height of their innocentanimation, dancing in the gentlemen's hats, and the gentlemenpromenading 'the gay and festive scene' in the ladies' bonnets, orwith the more expensive ornaments of false noses, and low-crowned, tinder-box-looking hats: playing children's drums, and accompaniedby ladies on the penny trumpet. 

The noise of these various instruments, the orchestra, theshouting, the 'scratchers, ' and the dancing, is perfectlybewildering. The dancing, itself, beggars description--everyfigure lasts about an hour, and the ladies bounce up and down themiddle, with a degree of spirit which is quite indescribable. Asto the gentlemen, they stamp their feet against the ground, everytime 'hands four round' begins, go down the middle and up again, with cigars in their mouths, and silk handkerchiefs in their hands, and whirl their partners round, nothing loth, scrambling andfalling, and embracing, and knocking up against the other couples, until they are fairly tired out, and can move no longer. The samescene is repeated again and again (slightly varied by an occasional'row') until a late hour at night: and a great many clerks and'prentices find themselves next morning with aching heads, emptypockets, damaged hats, and a very imperfect recollection of how itwas they did NOT get home. 

CHAPTER XIII--PRIVATE THEATRES

'RICHARD THE THIRD. --DUKE OF GLO'STER 2l. ; EARL OF RICHMOND, 1l;DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM, 15s. ; CATESBY, 12s. ; TRESSEL, 10s. 6d. ; LORDSTANLEY, 5s. ; LORD MAYOR OF LONDON, 2s. 6d. '

Such are the written placards wafered up in the gentlemen'sdressing-room, or the green-room (where there is any), at a privatetheatre; and such are the sums extracted from the shop-till, orovercharged in the office expenditure, by the donkeys who areprevailed upon to pay for permission to exhibit their lamentableignorance and boobyism on the stage of a private theatre. Thisthey do, in proportion to the scope afforded by the character forthe display of their imbecility. For instance, the Duke ofGlo'ster is well worth two pounds, because he has it all tohimself; he must wear a real sword, and what is better still, hemust draw it, several times in the course of the piece. Thesoliloquies alone are well worth fifteen shillings; then there isthe stabbing King Henry--decidedly cheap at three-and-sixpence, that's eighteen-and-sixpence; bullying the coffin-bearers--sayeighteen-pence, though it's worth much more--that's a pound. Thenthe love scene with Lady Ann, and the bustle of the fourth actcan't be dear at ten shillings more--that's only one pound ten, including the 'off with his head!'--which is sure to bring down theapplause, and it is very easy to do--'Orf with his ed' (very quickand loud;--then slow and sneeringly)--'So much for Bu-u-u-uckingham!' Lay the emphasis on the 'uck;' get yourself graduallyinto a corner, and work with your right hand, while you're sayingit, as if you were feeling your way, and it's sure to do. The tentscene is confessedly worth half-a-sovereign, and so you have thefight in, gratis, and everybody knows what an effect may beproduced by a good combat. One--two--three--four--over; then, one--two--three--four--under; then thrust; then dodge and slide about;then fall down on one knee; then fight upon it, and then get upagain and stagger. You may keep on doing this, as long as it seemsto take--say ten minutes--and then fall down (backwards, if you canmanage it without hurting yourself), and die game: nothing like itfor producing an effect. They always do it at Astley's andSadler's Wells, and if they don't know how to do this sort ofthing, who in the world does? A small child, or a female in white, increases the interest of a combat materially--indeed, we are notaware that a regular legitimate terrific broadsword combat could bedone without; but it would be rather difficult, and somewhatunusual, to introduce this effect in the last scene of Richard theThird, so the only thing to be done, is, just to make the best of abad bargain, and be as long as possible fighting it out. 

The principal patrons of private theatres are dirty boys, lowcopying-clerks, in attorneys' offices, capacious-headed youths fromcity counting-houses, Jews whose business, as lenders of fancydresses, is a sure passport to the amateur stage, shop-boys who nowand then mistake their masters' money for their own; and a choicemiscellany of idle vagabonds. The proprietor of a private theatremay be an ex-scene-painter, a low coffee-house-keeper, adisappointed eighth-rate actor, a retired smuggler, oruncertificated bankrupt. The theatre itself may be in Catherine-street, Strand, the purlieus of the city, the neighbourhood ofGray's-inn-lane, or the vicinity of Sadler's Wells; or it may, perhaps, form the chief nuisance of some shabby street, on theSurrey side of Waterloo-bridge. 

The lady performers pay nothing for their characters, and it isneedless to add, are usually selected from one class of society;the audiences are necessarily of much the same character as theperformers, who receive, in return for their contributions to themanagement, tickets to the amount of the money they pay. 

All the minor theatres in London, especially the lowest, constitutethe centre of a little stage-struck neighbourhood. Each of themhas an audience exclusively its own; and at any you will seedropping into the pit at half-price, or swaggering into the back ofa box, if the price of admission be a reduced one, divers boys offrom fifteen to twenty-one years of age, who throw back their coatand turn up their wristbands, after the portraits of Count D'Orsay, hum tunes and whistle when the curtain is down, by way ofpersuading the people near them, that they are not at all anxiousto have it up again, and speak familiarly of the inferiorperformers as Bill Such-a-one, and Ned So-and-so, or tell eachother how a new piece called The Unknown Bandit of the InvisibleCavern, is in rehearsal; how Mister Palmer is to play The UnknownBandit; how Charley Scarton is to take the part of an Englishsailor, and fight a broadsword combat with six unknown bandits, atone and the same time (one theatrical sailor is always equal tohalf a dozen men at least); how Mister Palmer and Charley Scartonare to go through a double hornpipe in fetters in the second act;how the interior of the invisible cavern is to occupy the wholeextent of the stage; and other town-surprising theatricalannouncements. These gentlemen are the amateurs--the Richards, Shylocks, Beverleys, and Othellos--the Young Dorntons, Rovers, Captain Absolutes, and Charles Surfaces--a private theatre. 

See them at the neighbouring public-house or the theatrical coffee-shop! They are the kings of the place, supposing no realperformers to be present; and roll about, hats on one side, andarms a-kimbo, as if they had actually come into possession ofeighteen shillings a-week, and a share of a ticket night. If oneof them does but know an Astley's supernumerary he is a happyfellow. The mingled air of envy and admiration with which hiscompanions will regard him, as he converses familiarly with somemouldy-looking man in a fancy neckerchief, whose partially corkedeyebrows, and half-rouged face, testify to the fact of his havingjust left the stage or the circle, sufficiently shows in what highadmiration these public characters are held. 

With the double view of guarding against the discovery of friendsor employers, and enhancing the interest of an assumed character, by attaching a high-sounding name to its representative, thesegeniuses assume fictitious names, which are not the least amusingpart of the play-bill of a private theatre. Belville, Melville, Treville, Berkeley, Randolph, Byron, St. Clair, and so forth, areamong the humblest; and the less imposing titles of Jenkins, Walker, Thomson, Barker, Solomons, &c. , are completely laid aside. There is something imposing in this, and it is an excellent apologyfor shabbiness into the bargain. A shrunken, faded coat, a decayedhat, a patched and soiled pair of trousers--nay, even a very dirtyshirt (and none of these appearances are very uncommon among themembers of the corps dramatique), may be worn for the purpose ofdisguise, and to prevent the remotest chance of recognition. Thenit prevents any troublesome inquiries or explanations aboutemployment and pursuits; everybody is a gentleman at large, for theoccasion, and there are none of those unpleasant and unnecessarydistinctions to which even genius must occasionally succumbelsewhere. As to the ladies (God bless them), they are quite aboveany formal absurdities; the mere circumstance of your being behindthe scenes is a sufficient introduction to their society--for ofcourse they know that none but strictly respectable persons wouldbe admitted into that close fellowship with them, which actingengenders. They place implicit reliance on the manager, no doubt;and as to the manager, he is all affability when he knows youwell, --or, in other words, when he has pocketed your money once, and entertains confident hopes of doing so again. 

A quarter before eight--there will be a full house to-night--sixparties in the boxes, already; four little boys and a woman in thepit; and two fiddles and a flute in the orchestra, who have gotthrough five overtures since seven o'clock (the hour fixed for thecommencement of the performances), and have just begun the sixth. There will be plenty of it, though, when it does begin, for thereis enough in the bill to last six hours at least. 

That gentleman in the white hat and checked shirt, brown coat andbrass buttons, lounging behind the stage-box on the O. P. Side, isMr. Horatio St. Julien, alias Jem Larkins. His line is genteelcomedy--his father's, coal and potato. He DOES Alfred Highflier inthe last piece, and very well he'll do it--at the price. The partyof gentlemen in the opposite box, to whom he has just nodded, arefriends and supporters of Mr. Beverley (otherwise Loggins), theMacbeth of the night. You observe their attempts to appear easyand gentlemanly, each member of the party, with his feet cockedupon the cushion in front of the box! They let them do thesethings here, upon the same humane principle which permits poorpeople's children to knock double knocks at the door of an emptyhouse--because they can't do it anywhere else. The two stout menin the centre box, with an opera-glass ostentatiously placed beforethem, are friends of the proprietor--opulent country managers, ashe confidentially informs every individual among the crew behindthe curtain--opulent country managers looking out for recruits; arepresentation which Mr. Nathan, the dresser, who is in themanager's interest, and has just arrived with the costumes, offersto confirm upon oath if required--corroborative evidence, however, is quite unnecessary, for the gulls believe it at once. 

The stout Jewess who has just entered, is the mother of the pale, bony little girl, with the necklace of blue glass beads, sitting byher; she is being brought up to 'the profession. ' Pantomime is tobe her line, and she is coming out to-night, in a hornpipe afterthe tragedy. The short thin man beside Mr. St. Julien, whose whiteface is so deeply seared with the small-pox, and whose dirty shirt-front is inlaid with open-work, and embossed with coral studs likeladybirds, is the low comedian and comic singer of theestablishment. The remainder of the audience--a tolerably numerousone by this time--are a motley group of dupes and blackguards. 

The foot-lights have just made their appearance: the wicks of thesix little oil lamps round the only tier of boxes, are being turnedup, and the additional light thus afforded serves to show thepresence of dirt, and absence of paint, which forms a prominentfeature in the audience part of the house. As these preparations, however, announce the speedy commencement of the play, let us takea peep 'behind, ' previous to the ringing-up. 

The little narrow passages beneath the stage are neither especiallyclean nor too brilliantly lighted; and the absence of any flooring, together with the damp mildewy smell which pervades the place, doesnot conduce in any great degree to their comfortable appearance. Don't fall over this plate basket--it's one of the 'properties'--the caldron for the witches' cave; and the three uncouth-lookingfigures, with broken clothes-props in their hands, who are drinkinggin-and-water out of a pint pot, are the weird sisters. Thismiserable room, lighted by candles in sconces placed at lengthenedintervals round the wall, is the dressing-room, common to thegentlemen performers, and the square hole in the ceiling is THEtrap-door of the stage above. You will observe that the ceiling isornamented with the beams that support the boards, and tastefullyhung with cobwebs. 

The characters in the tragedy are all dressed, and their ownclothes are scattered in hurried confusion over the wooden dresserwhich surrounds the room. That snuff-shop-looking figure, in frontof the glass, is Banquo: and the young lady with the liberaldisplay of legs, who is kindly painting his face with a hare'sfoot, is dressed for Fleance. The large woman, who is consultingthe stage directions in Cumberland's edition of Macbeth, is theLady Macbeth of the night; she is always selected to play the part, because she is tall and stout, and LOOKS a little like Mrs. Siddons--at a considerable distance. That stupid-looking milksop, with light hair and bow legs--a kind of man whom you can warranttown-made--is fresh caught; he plays Malcolm to-night, just toaccustom himself to an audience. He will get on better by degrees;he will play Othello in a month, and in a month more, will veryprobably be apprehended on a charge of embezzlement. The black-eyed female with whom he is talking so earnestly, is dressed forthe 'gentlewoman. ' It is HER first appearance, too--in thatcharacter. The boy of fourteen who is having his eyebrows smearedwith soap and whitening, is Duncan, King of Scotland; and the twodirty men with the corked countenances, in very old green tunics, and dirty drab boots, are the 'army. '

'Look sharp below there, gents, ' exclaims the dresser, a red-headedand red-whiskered Jew, calling through the trap, 'they're a-goingto ring up. The flute says he'll be blowed if he plays any more, and they're getting precious noisy in front. ' A general rushimmediately takes place to the half-dozen little steep stepsleading to the stage, and the heterogeneous group are soonassembled at the side scenes, in breathless anxiety and motleyconfusion. 

'Now, ' cries the manager, consulting the written list which hangsbehind the first P. S, wing, 'Scene 1, open country--lamps down--thunder and lightning--all ready, White?' [This is addressed toone of the army. ] 'All ready. '--'Very well. Scene 2, frontchamber. Is the front chamber down?'--'Yes. '--'Very well. '--'Jones' [to the other army who is up in the flies]. 'Hallo!'--'Wind up the open country when we ring up. '--'I'll take care. '--'Scene 3, back perspective with practical bridge. Bridge ready, White? Got the tressels there?'--'All right. '

'Very well. Clear the stage, ' cries the manager, hastily packingevery member of the company into the little space there is betweenthe wings and the wall, and one wing and another. 'Places, places. Now then, Witches--Duncan--Malcolm--bleeding officer--where's thebleeding officer?'--'Here!' replies the officer, who has been rose-pinking for the character. 'Get ready, then; now, White, ring thesecond music-bell. ' The actors who are to be discovered, arehastily arranged, and the actors who are not to be discovered placethemselves, in their anxiety to peep at the house, just where theaudience can see them. The bell rings, and the orchestra, inacknowledgment of the call, play three distinct chords. The bellrings--the tragedy (!) opens--and our description closes. 

CHAPTER XIV--VAUXHALL-GARDENS BY DAY

There was a time when if a man ventured to wonder how Vauxhall-gardens would look by day, he was hailed with a shout of derisionat the absurdity of the idea. Vauxhall by daylight! A porter-potwithout porter, the House of Commons without the Speaker, a gas-lamp without the gas--pooh, nonsense, the thing was not to bethought of. It was rumoured, too, in those times, that Vauxhall-gardens by day, were the scene of secret and hidden experiments;that there, carvers were exercised in the mystic art of cutting amoderate-sized ham into slices thin enough to pave the whole of thegrounds; that beneath the shade of the tall trees, studious menwere constantly engaged in chemical experiments, with the view ofdiscovering how much water a bowl of negus could possibly bear; andthat in some retired nooks, appropriated to the study ofornithology, other sage and learned men were, by a process knownonly to themselves, incessantly employed in reducing fowls to amere combination of skin and bone. 

Vague rumours of this kind, together with many others of a similarnature, cast over Vauxhall-gardens an air of deep mystery; and asthere is a great deal in the mysterious, there is no doubt that toa good many people, at all events, the pleasure they afforded wasnot a little enhanced by this very circumstance. 

Of this class of people we confess to having made one. We loved towander among these illuminated groves, thinking of the patient andlaborious researches which had been carried on there during theday, and witnessing their results in the suppers which were servedup beneath the light of lamps and to the sound of music at night. The temples and saloons and cosmoramas and fountains glittered andsparkled before our eyes; the beauty of the lady singers and theelegant deportment of the gentlemen, captivated our hearts; a fewhundred thousand of additional lamps dazzled our senses; a bowl ortwo of punch bewildered our brains; and we were happy. 

In an evil hour, the proprietors of Vauxhall-gardens took toopening them by day. We regretted this, as rudely and harshlydisturbing that veil of mystery which had hung about the propertyfor many years, and which none but the noonday sun, and the lateMr. Simpson, had ever penetrated. We shrunk from going; at thismoment we scarcely know why. Perhaps a morbid consciousness ofapproaching disappointment--perhaps a fatal presentiment--perhapsthe weather; whatever it was, we did NOT go until the second orthird announcement of a race between two balloons tempted us, andwe went. 

We paid our shilling at the gate, and then we saw for the firsttime, that the entrance, if there had been any magic about it atall, was now decidedly disenchanted, being, in fact, nothing morenor less than a combination of very roughly-painted boards andsawdust. We glanced at the orchestra and supper-room as we hurriedpast--we just recognised them, and that was all. We bent our stepsto the firework-ground; there, at least, we should not bedisappointed. We reached it, and stood rooted to the spot withmortification and astonishment. THAT the Moorish tower--thatwooden shed with a door in the centre, and daubs of crimson andyellow all round, like a gigantic watch-case! THAT the place wherenight after night we had beheld the undaunted Mr. Blackmore makehis terrific ascent, surrounded by flames of fire, and peals ofartillery, and where the white garments of Madame Somebody (weforget even her name now), who nobly devoted her life to themanufacture of fireworks, had so often been seen fluttering in thewind, as she called up a red, blue, or party-coloured light toillumine her temple! THAT the--but at this moment the bell rung;the people scampered away, pell-mell, to the spot from whence thesound proceeded; and we, from the mere force of habit, foundourself running among the first, as if for very life. 

It was for the concert in the orchestra. A small party of dismalmen in cocked hats were 'executing' the overture to Tancredi, and anumerous assemblage of ladies and gentlemen, with their families, had rushed from their half-emptied stout mugs in the supper boxes, and crowded to the spot. Intense was the low murmur of admirationwhen a particularly small gentleman, in a dress coat, led on aparticularly tall lady in a blue sarcenet pelisse and bonnet of thesame, ornamented with large white feathers, and forthwith commenceda plaintive duet. 

We knew the small gentleman well; we had seen a lithographedsemblance of him, on many a piece of music, with his mouth wideopen as if in the act of singing; a wine-glass in his hand; and atable with two decanters and four pine-apples on it in thebackground. The tall lady, too, we had gazed on, lost in rapturesof admiration, many and many a time--how different people DO lookby daylight, and without punch, to be sure! It was a beautifulduet: first the small gentleman asked a question, and then thetall lady answered it; then the small gentleman and the tall ladysang together most melodiously; then the small gentleman wentthrough a little piece of vehemence by himself, and got very tenorindeed, in the excitement of his feelings, to which the tall ladyresponded in a similar manner; then the small gentleman had a shakeor two, after which the tall lady had the same, and then they bothmerged imperceptibly into the original air: and the band woundthemselves up to a pitch of fury, and the small gentleman handedthe tall lady out, and the applause was rapturous. 

The comic singer, however, was the especial favourite; we reallythought that a gentleman, with his dinner in a pocket-handkerchief, who stood near us, would have fainted with excess of joy. Amarvellously facetious gentleman that comic singer is; hisdistinguishing characteristics are, a wig approaching to theflaxen, and an aged countenance, and he bears the name of one ofthe English counties, if we recollect right. He sang a very goodsong about the seven ages, the first half-hour of which affordedthe assembly the purest delight; of the rest we can make no report, as we did not stay to hear any more. 

We walked about, and met with a disappointment at every turn; ourfavourite views were mere patches of paint; the fountain that hadsparkled so showily by lamp-light, presented very much theappearance of a water-pipe that had burst; all the ornaments weredingy, and all the walks gloomy. There was a spectral attempt atrope-dancing in the little open theatre. The sun shone upon thespangled dresses of the performers, and their evolutions were aboutas inspiriting and appropriate as a country-dance in a familyvault. So we retraced our steps to the firework-ground, andmingled with the little crowd of people who were contemplating Mr. Green. 

Some half-dozen men were restraining the impetuosity of one of theballoons, which was completely filled, and had the car alreadyattached; and as rumours had gone abroad that a Lord was 'goingup, ' the crowd were more than usually anxious and talkative. Therewas one little man in faded black, with a dirty face and a rustyblack neckerchief with a red border, tied in a narrow wisp roundhis neck, who entered into conversation with everybody, and hadsomething to say upon every remark that was made within hishearing. He was standing with his arms folded, staring up at theballoon, and every now and then vented his feelings of reverencefor the aeronaut, by saying, as he looked round to catch somebody'seye, 'He's a rum 'un is Green; think o' this here being up'ards ofhis two hundredth ascent; ecod, the man as is ekal to Green neverhad the toothache yet, nor won't have within this hundred year, andthat's all about it. When you meets with real talent, and native, too, encourage it, that's what I say;' and when he had deliveredhimself to this effect, he would fold his arms with moredetermination than ever, and stare at the balloon with a sort ofadmiring defiance of any other man alive, beyond himself and Green, that impressed the crowd with the opinion that he was an oracle. 

'Ah, you're very right, sir, ' said another gentleman, with hiswife, and children, and mother, and wife's sister, and a host offemale friends, in all the gentility of white pocket-handkerchiefs, frills, and spencers, 'Mr. Green is a steady hand, sir, and there'sno fear about him. '

'Fear!' said the little man: 'isn't it a lovely thing to see himand his wife a going up in one balloon, and his own son and HISwife a jostling up against them in another, and all of them goingtwenty or thirty mile in three hours or so, and then coming back inpochayses? I don't know where this here science is to stop, mindyou; that's what bothers me. '

Here there was a considerable talking among the females in thespencers. 

'What's the ladies a laughing at, sir?' inquired the little man, condescendingly. 

'It's only my sister Mary, ' said one of the girls, 'as says shehopes his lordship won't be frightened when he's in the car, andwant to come out again. '

'Make yourself easy about that there, my dear, ' replied the littleman. 'If he was so much as to move a inch without leave, Greenwould jist fetch him a crack over the head with the telescope, aswould send him into the bottom of the basket in no time, and stunhim till they come down again. '

'Would he, though?' inquired the other man. 

'Yes, would he, ' replied the little one, 'and think nothing of it, neither, if he was the king himself. Green's presence of mind iswonderful. '

Just at this moment all eyes were directed to the preparationswhich were being made for starting. The car was attached to thesecond balloon, the two were brought pretty close together, and amilitary band commenced playing, with a zeal and fervour whichwould render the most timid man in existence but too happy toaccept any means of quitting that particular spot of earth on whichthey were stationed. Then Mr. Green, sen. , and his noble companionentered one car, and Mr. Green, jun. , and HIS companion the other;and then the balloons went up, and the aerial travellers stood up, and the crowd outside roared with delight, and the two gentlemenwho had never ascended before, tried to wave their flags, as ifthey were not nervous, but held on very fast all the while; and theballoons were wafted gently away, our little friend solemnlyprotesting, long after they were reduced to mere specks in the air, that he could still distinguish the white hat of Mr. Green. Thegardens disgorged their multitudes, boys ran up and down screaming'bal-loon;' and in all the crowded thoroughfares people rushed outof their shops into the middle of the road, and having stared up inthe air at two little black objects till they almost dislocatedtheir necks, walked slowly in again, perfectly satisfied. 

The next day there was a grand account of the ascent in the morningpapers, and the public were informed how it was the finest day butfour in Mr. Green's remembrance; how they retained sight of theearth till they lost it behind the clouds; and how the reflectionof the balloon on the undulating masses of vapour was gorgeouslypicturesque; together with a little science about the refraction ofthe sun's rays, and some mysterious hints respecting atmosphericheat and eddying currents of air. 

There was also an interesting account how a man in a boat wasdistinctly heard by Mr. Green, jun. , to exclaim, 'My eye!' whichMr. Green, jun. , attributed to his voice rising to the balloon, andthe sound being thrown back from its surface into the car; and thewhole concluded with a slight allusion to another ascent nextWednesday, all of which was very instructive and very amusing, asour readers will see if they look to the papers. If we haveforgotten to mention the date, they have only to wait till nextsummer, and take the account of the first ascent, and it willanswer the purpose equally well. 

CHAPTER XV--EARLY COACHES

We have often wondered how many months' incessant travelling in apost-chaise it would take to kill a man; and wondering by analogy, we should very much like to know how many months of constanttravelling in a succession of early coaches, an unfortunate mortalcould endure. Breaking a man alive upon the wheel, would benothing to breaking his rest, his peace, his heart--everything buthis fast--upon four; and the punishment of Ixion (the onlypractical person, by-the-bye, who has discovered the secret of theperpetual motion) would sink into utter insignificance before theone we have suggested. If we had been a powerful churchman inthose good times when blood was shed as freely as water, and menwere mowed down like grass, in the sacred cause of religion, wewould have lain by very quietly till we got hold of some especiallyobstinate miscreant, who positively refused to be converted to ourfaith, and then we would have booked him for an inside place in asmall coach, which travelled day and night: and securing theremainder of the places for stout men with a slight tendency tocoughing and spitting, we would have started him forth on his lasttravels: leaving him mercilessly to all the tortures which thewaiters, landlords, coachmen, guards, boots, chambermaids, andother familiars on his line of road, might think proper to inflict. 

Who has not experienced the miseries inevitably consequent upon asummons to undertake a hasty journey? You receive an intimationfrom your place of business--wherever that may be, or whatever youmay be--that it will be necessary to leave town without delay. Youand your family are forthwith thrown into a state of tremendousexcitement; an express is immediately dispatched to thewasherwoman's; everybody is in a bustle; and you, yourself, with afeeling of dignity which you cannot altogether conceal, sally forthto the booking-office to secure your place. Here a painfulconsciousness of your own unimportance first rushes on your mind--the people are as cool and collected as if nobody were going out oftown, or as if a journey of a hundred odd miles were a merenothing. You enter a mouldy-looking room, ornamented with largeposting-bills; the greater part of the place enclosed behind ahuge, lumbering, rough counter, and fitted up with recesses thatlook like the dens of the smaller animals in a travellingmenagerie, without the bars. Some half-dozen people are 'booking'brown-paper parcels, which one of the clerks flings into theaforesaid recesses with an air of recklessness which you, remembering the new carpet-bag you bought in the morning, feelconsiderably annoyed at; porters, looking like so many Atlases, keep rushing in and out, with large packages on their shoulders;and while you are waiting to make the necessary inquiries, youwonder what on earth the booking-office clerks can have been beforethey were booking-office clerks; one of them with his pen behindhis ear, and his hands behind him, is standing in front of thefire, like a full-length portrait of Napoleon; the other with hishat half off his head, enters the passengers' names in the bookswith a coolness which is inexpressibly provoking; and the villainwhistles--actually whistles--while a man asks him what the fare isoutside, all the way to Holyhead!--in frosty weather, too! Theyare clearly an isolated race, evidently possessing no sympathies orfeelings in common with the rest of mankind. Your turn comes atlast, and having paid the fare, you tremblingly inquire--'What timewill it be necessary for me to be here in the morning?'--'Sixo'clock, ' replies the whistler, carelessly pitching the sovereignyou have just parted with, into a wooden bowl on the desk. 'Ratherbefore than arter, ' adds the man with the semi-roastedunmentionables, with just as much ease and complacency as if thewhole world got out of bed at five. You turn into the street, ruminating as you bend your steps homewards on the extent to whichmen become hardened in cruelty, by custom. 

If there be one thing in existence more miserable than another, itmost unquestionably is the being compelled to rise by candlelight. If you have ever doubted the fact, you are painfully convinced ofyour error, on the morning of your departure. You left strictorders, overnight, to be called at half-past four, and you havedone nothing all night but doze for five minutes at a time, andstart up suddenly from a terrific dream of a large church-clockwith the small hand running round, with astonishing rapidity, toevery figure on the dial-plate. At last, completely exhausted, youfall gradually into a refreshing sleep--your thoughts growconfused--the stage-coaches, which have been 'going off' beforeyour eyes all night, become less and less distinct, until they gooff altogether; one moment you are driving with all the skill andsmartness of an experienced whip--the next you are exhibiting a laDucrow, on the off-leader; anon you are closely muffled up, inside, and have just recognised in the person of the guard an oldschoolfellow, whose funeral, even in your dream, you remember tohave attended eighteen years ago. At last you fall into a state ofcomplete oblivion, from which you are aroused, as if into a newstate of existence, by a singular illusion. You are apprenticed toa trunk-maker; how, or why, or when, or wherefore, you don't takethe trouble to inquire; but there you are, pasting the lining inthe lid of a portmanteau. Confound that other apprentice in theback shop, how he is hammering!--rap, rap, rap--what an industriousfellow he must be! you have heard him at work for half an hourpast, and he has been hammering incessantly the whole time. Rap, rap, rap, again--he's talking now--what's that he said? Fiveo'clock! You make a violent exertion, and start up in bed. Thevision is at once dispelled; the trunk-maker's shop is your ownbedroom, and the other apprentice your shivering servant, who hasbeen vainly endeavouring to wake you for the last quarter of anhour, at the imminent risk of breaking either his own knuckles orthe panels of the door. 

You proceed to dress yourself, with all possible dispatch. Theflaring flat candle with the long snuff, gives light enough to showthat the things you want, are not where they ought to be, and youundergo a trifling delay in consequence of having carefully packedup one of your boots in your over-anxiety of the preceding night. You soon complete your toilet, however, for you are not particularon such an occasion, and you shaved yesterday evening; so mountingyour Petersham great-coat, and green travelling shawl, and graspingyour carpet-bag in your right hand, you walk lightly down-stairs, lest you should awaken any of the family, and after pausing in thecommon sitting-room for one moment, just to have a cup of coffee(the said common sitting-room looking remarkably comfortable, witheverything out of its place, and strewed with the crumbs of lastnight's supper), you undo the chain and bolts of the street-door, and find yourself fairly in the street. 

A thaw, by all that is miserable! The frost is completely brokenup. You look down the long perspective of Oxford-street, the gas-lights mournfully reflected on the wet pavement, and can discern nospeck in the road to encourage the belief that there is a cab or acoach to be had--the very coachmen have gone home in despair. Thecold sleet is drizzling down with that gentle regularity, whichbetokens a duration of four-and-twenty hours at least; the damphangs upon the house-tops and lamp-posts, and clings to you like aninvisible cloak. The water is 'coming in' in every area, the pipeshave burst, the water-butts are running over; the kennels seem tobe doing matches against time, pump-handles descend of their ownaccord, horses in market-carts fall down, and there's no one tohelp them up again, policemen look as if they had been carefullysprinkled with powdered glass; here and there a milk-woman trudgesslowly along, with a bit of list round each foot to keep her fromslipping; boys who 'don't sleep in the house, ' and are not allowedmuch sleep out of it, can't wake their masters by thundering at theshop-door, and cry with the cold--the compound of ice, snow, andwater on the pavement, is a couple of inches thick--nobody venturesto walk fast to keep himself warm, and nobody could succeed inkeeping himself warm if he did. 

It strikes a quarter past five as you trudge down Waterloo-place onyour way to the Golden Cross, and you discover, for the first time, that you were called about an hour too early. You have not time togo back; there is no place open to go into, and you have, therefore, no resource but to go forward, which you do, feelingremarkably satisfied with yourself, and everything about you. Youarrive at the office, and look wistfully up the yard for theBirmingham High-flier, which, for aught you can see, may have flownaway altogether, for preparations appear to be on foot for thedeparture of any vehicle in the shape of a coach. You wander intothe booking-office, which with the gas-lights and blazing fire, looks quite comfortable by contrast--that is to say, if any placeCAN look comfortable at half-past five on a winter's morning. There stands the identical book-keeper in the same position as ifhe had not moved since you saw him yesterday. As he informs you, that the coach is up the yard, and will be brought round in about aquarter of an hour, you leave your bag, and repair to 'The Tap'--not with any absurd idea of warming yourself, because you feel sucha result to be utterly hopeless, but for the purpose of procuringsome hot brandy-and-water, which you do, --when the kettle boils! anevent which occurs exactly two minutes and a half before the timefixed for the starting of the coach. 

The first stroke of six, peals from St. Martin's church steeple, just as you take the first sip of the boiling liquid. You findyourself at the booking-office in two seconds, and the tap-waiterfinds himself much comforted by your brandy-and-water, in about thesame period. The coach is out; the horses are in, and the guardand two or three porters, are stowing the luggage away, and runningup the steps of the booking-office, and down the steps of thebooking-office, with breathless rapidity. The place, which a fewminutes ago was so still and quiet, is now all bustle; the earlyvendors of the morning papers have arrived, and you are assailed onall sides with shouts of 'Times, gen'lm'n, Times, ' 'Here's Chron--Chron--Chron, ' 'Herald, ma'am, ' 'Highly interesting murder, gen'lm'n, ' 'Curious case o' breach o' promise, ladies. ' The insidepassengers are already in their dens, and the outsides, with theexception of yourself, are pacing up and down the pavement to keepthemselves warm; they consist of two young men with very long hair, to which the sleet has communicated the appearance of crystallisedrats' tails; one thin young woman cold and peevish, one oldgentleman ditto ditto, and something in a cloak and cap, intendedto represent a military officer; every member of the party, with alarge stiff shawl over his chin, looking exactly as if he wereplaying a set of Pan's pipes. 

'Take off the cloths, Bob, ' says the coachman, who now appears forthe first time, in a rough blue great-coat, of which the buttonsbehind are so far apart, that you can't see them both at the sametime. 'Now, gen'lm'n, ' cries the guard, with the waybill in hishand. 'Five minutes behind time already!' Up jump the passengers--the two young men smoking like lime-kilns, and the old gentlemangrumbling audibly. The thin young woman is got upon the roof, bydint of a great deal of pulling, and pushing, and helping andtrouble, and she repays it by expressing her solemn conviction thatshe will never be able to get down again. 

'All right, ' sings out the guard at last, jumping up as the coachstarts, and blowing his horn directly afterwards, in proof of thesoundness of his wind. 'Let 'em go, Harry, give 'em their heads, 'cries the coachman--and off we start as briskly as if the morningwere 'all right, ' as well as the coach: and looking forward asanxiously to the termination of our journey, as we fear our readerswill have done, long since, to the conclusion of our paper. 

CHAPTER XVI--OMNIBUSES

It is very generally allowed that public conveyances afford anextensive field for amusement and observation. Of all the publicconveyances that have been constructed since the days of the Ark--we think that is the earliest on record--to the present time, commend us to an omnibus. A long stage is not to be despised, butthere you have only six insides, and the chances are, that the samepeople go all the way with you--there is no change, no variety. Besides, after the first twelve hours or so, people get cross andsleepy, and when you have seen a man in his nightcap, you lose allrespect for him; at least, that is the case with us. Then onsmooth roads people frequently get prosy, and tell long stories, and even those who don't talk, may have very unpleasantpredilections. We once travelled four hundred miles, inside astage-coach, with a stout man, who had a glass of rum-and-water, warm, handed in at the window at every place where we changedhorses. This was decidedly unpleasant. We have also travelledoccasionally, with a small boy of a pale aspect, with light hair, and no perceptible neck, coming up to town from school under theprotection of the guard, and directed to be left at the Cross Keystill called for. This is, perhaps, even worse than rum-and-waterin a close atmosphere. Then there is the whole train of evilsconsequent on a change of the coachman; and the misery of thediscovery--which the guard is sure to make the moment you begin todoze--that he wants a brown-paper parcel, which he distinctlyremembers to have deposited under the seat on which you arereposing. A great deal of bustle and groping takes place, and whenyou are thoroughly awakened, and severely cramped, by holding yourlegs up by an almost supernatural exertion, while he is lookingbehind them, it suddenly occurs to him that he put it in the fore-boot. Bang goes the door; the parcel is immediately found; offstarts the coach again; and the guard plays the key-bugle as loudas he can play it, as if in mockery of your wretchedness. 

Now, you meet with none of these afflictions in an omnibus;sameness there can never be. The passengers change as often in thecourse of one journey as the figures in a kaleidoscope, and thoughnot so glittering, are far more amusing. We believe there is noinstance on record, of a man's having gone to sleep in one of thesevehicles. As to long stories, would any man venture to tell a longstory in an omnibus? and even if he did, where would be the harm?nobody could possibly hear what he was talking about. Again;children, though occasionally, are not often to be found in anomnibus; and even when they are, if the vehicle be full, as isgenerally the case, somebody sits upon them, and we are unconsciousof their presence. Yes, after mature reflection, and considerableexperience, we are decidedly of opinion, that of all knownvehicles, from the glass-coach in which we were taken to bechristened, to that sombre caravan in which we must one day makeour last earthly journey, there is nothing like an omnibus. 

We will back the machine in which we make our daily peregrinationfrom the top of Oxford-street to the city, against any 'buss' onthe road, whether it be for the gaudiness of its exterior, theperfect simplicity of its interior, or the native coolness of itscad. This young gentleman is a singular instance of self-devotion;his somewhat intemperate zeal on behalf of his employers, isconstantly getting him into trouble, and occasionally into thehouse of correction. He is no sooner emancipated, however, than heresumes the duties of his profession with unabated ardour. Hisprincipal distinction is his activity. His great boast is, 'thathe can chuck an old gen'lm'n into the buss, shut him in, and rattleoff, afore he knows where it's a-going to'--a feat which hefrequently performs, to the infinite amusement of every one but theold gentleman concerned, who, somehow or other, never can see thejoke of the thing. 

We are not aware that it has ever been precisely ascertained, howmany passengers our omnibus will contain. The impression on thecad's mind evidently is, that it is amply sufficient for theaccommodation of any number of persons that can be enticed into it. 'Any room?' cries a hot pedestrian. 'Plenty o' room, sir, ' repliesthe conductor, gradually opening the door, and not disclosing thereal state of the case, until the wretched man is on the steps. 'Where?' inquires the entrapped individual, with an attempt to backout again. 'Either side, sir, ' rejoins the cad, shoving him in, and slamming the door. 'All right, Bill. ' Retreat is impossible;the new-comer rolls about, till he falls down somewhere, and therehe stops. 

As we get into the city a little before ten, four or five of ourparty are regular passengers. We always take them up at the sameplaces, and they generally occupy the same seats; they are alwaysdressed in the same manner, and invariably discuss the same topics--the increasing rapidity of cabs, and the disregard of moralobligations evinced by omnibus men. There is a little testy oldman, with a powdered head, who always sits on the right-hand sideof the door as you enter, with his hands folded on the top of hisumbrella. He is extremely impatient, and sits there for thepurpose of keeping a sharp eye on the cad, with whom he generallyholds a running dialogue. He is very officious in helping peoplein and out, and always volunteers to give the cad a poke with hisumbrella, when any one wants to alight. He usually recommendsladies to have sixpence ready, to prevent delay; and if anybodyputs a window down, that he can reach, he immediately puts it upagain. 

'Now, what are you stopping for?' says the little man everymorning, the moment there is the slightest indication of 'pullingup' at the corner of Regent-street, when some such dialogue as thefollowing takes place between him and the cad:

'What are you stopping for?'

Here the cad whistles, and affects not to hear the question. 

'I say [a poke], what are you stopping for?'

'For passengers, sir. Ba--nk. --Ty. '

'I know you're stopping for passengers; but you've no business todo so. WHY are you stopping?'

'Vy, sir, that's a difficult question. I think it is because weperfer stopping here to going on. '

'Now mind, ' exclaims the little old man, with great vehemence, 'I'll pull you up to-morrow; I've often threatened to do it; now Iwill. '

'Thankee, sir, ' replies the cad, touching his hat with a mockexpression of gratitude;--'werry much obliged to you indeed, sir. 'Here the young men in the omnibus laugh very heartily, and the oldgentleman gets very red in the face, and seems highly exasperated. 

The stout gentleman in the white neckcloth, at the other end of thevehicle, looks very prophetic, and says that something must shortlybe done with these fellows, or there's no saying where all thiswill end; and the shabby-genteel man with the green bag, expresseshis entire concurrence in the opinion, as he has done regularlyevery morning for the last six months. 

A second omnibus now comes up, and stops immediately behind us. Another old gentleman elevates his cane in the air, and runs withall his might towards our omnibus; we watch his progress with greatinterest; the door is opened to receive him, he suddenlydisappears--he has been spirited away by the opposition. Hereuponthe driver of the opposition taunts our people with his having'regularly done 'em out of that old swell, ' and the voice of the'old swell' is heard, vainly protesting against this unlawfuldetention. We rattle off, the other omnibus rattles after us, andevery time we stop to take up a passenger, they stop to take himtoo; sometimes we get him; sometimes they get him; but whoeverdon't get him, say they ought to have had him, and the cads of therespective vehicles abuse one another accordingly. 

As we arrive in the vicinity of Lincoln's-inn-fields, Bedford-row, and other legal haunts, we drop a great many of our originalpassengers, and take up fresh ones, who meet with a very sulkyreception. It is rather remarkable, that the people already in anomnibus, always look at newcomers, as if they entertained someundefined idea that they have no business to come in at all. Weare quite persuaded the little old man has some notion of thiskind, and that he considers their entry as a sort of negativeimpertinence. 

Conversation is now entirely dropped; each person gazes vacantlythrough the window in front of him, and everybody thinks that hisopposite neighbour is staring at him. If one man gets out at Shoe-lane, and another at the corner of Farringdon-street, the littleold gentleman grumbles, and suggests to the latter, that if he hadgot out at Shoe-lane too, he would have saved them the delay ofanother stoppage; whereupon the young men laugh again, and the oldgentleman looks very solemn, and says nothing more till he gets tothe Bank, when he trots off as fast as he can, leaving us to do thesame, and to wish, as we walk away, that we could impart to othersany portion of the amusement we have gained for ourselves. 

CHAPTER XVII--THE LAST CAB-DRIVER, AND THE FIRST OMNIBUS CAD

Of all the cabriolet-drivers whom we have ever had the honour andgratification of knowing by sight--and our acquaintance in this wayhas been most extensive--there is one who made an impression on ourmind which can never be effaced, and who awakened in our bosom afeeling of admiration and respect, which we entertain a fatalpresentiment will never be called forth again by any human being. He was a man of most simple and prepossessing appearance. He was abrown-whiskered, white-hatted, no-coated cabman; his nose wasgenerally red, and his bright blue eye not unfrequently stood outin bold relief against a black border of artificial workmanship;his boots were of the Wellington form, pulled up to meet hiscorduroy knee-smalls, or at least to approach as near them as theirdimensions would admit of; and his neck was usually garnished witha bright yellow handkerchief. In summer he carried in his mouth aflower; in winter, a straw--slight, but, to a contemplative mind, certain indications of a love of nature, and a taste for botany. 

His cabriolet was gorgeously painted--a bright red; and wherever wewent, City or West End, Paddington or Holloway, North, East, West, or South, there was the red cab, bumping up against the posts atthe street corners, and turning in and out, among hackney-coaches, and drays, and carts, and waggons, and omnibuses, and contriving bysome strange means or other, to get out of places which no othervehicle but the red cab could ever by any possibility havecontrived to get into at all. Our fondness for that red cab wasunbounded. How we should have liked to have seen it in the circleat Astley's! Our life upon it, that it should have performed suchevolutions as would have put the whole company to shame--Indianchiefs, knights, Swiss peasants, and all. 

Some people object to the exertion of getting into cabs, and othersobject to the difficulty of getting out of them; we think boththese are objections which take their rise in perverse and ill-conditioned minds. The getting into a cab is a very pretty andgraceful process, which, when well performed, is essentiallymelodramatic. First, there is the expressive pantomime of everyone of the eighteen cabmen on the stand, the moment you raise youreyes from the ground. Then there is your own pantomime in reply--quite a little ballet. Four cabs immediately leave the stand, foryour especial accommodation; and the evolutions of the animals whodraw them, are beautiful in the extreme, as they grate the wheelsof the cabs against the curb-stones, and sport playfully in thekennel. You single out a particular cab, and dart swiftly towardsit. One bound, and you are on the first step; turn your bodylightly round to the right, and you are on the second; bendgracefully beneath the reins, working round to the left at the sametime, and you are in the cab. There is no difficulty in finding aseat: the apron knocks you comfortably into it at once, and offyou go. 

The getting out of a cab is, perhaps, rather more complicated inits theory, and a shade more difficult in its execution. We havestudied the subject a great deal, and we think the best way is, tothrow yourself out, and trust to chance for alighting on your feet. If you make the driver alight first, and then throw yourself uponhim, you will find that he breaks your fall materially. In theevent of your contemplating an offer of eightpence, on no accountmake the tender, or show the money, until you are safely on thepavement. It is very bad policy attempting to save the fourpence. You are very much in the power of a cabman, and he considers it akind of fee not to do you any wilful damage. Any instruction, however, in the art of getting out of a cab, is wholly unnecessaryif you are going any distance, because the probability is, that youwill be shot lightly out before you have completed the third mile. 

We are not aware of any instance on record in which a cab-horse hasperformed three consecutive miles without going down once. What ofthat? It is all excitement. And in these days of derangement ofthe nervous system and universal lassitude, people are content topay handsomely for excitement; where can it be procured at acheaper rate?

But to return to the red cab; it was omnipresent. You had but towalk down Holborn, or Fleet-street, or any of the principalthoroughfares in which there is a great deal of traffic, and judgefor yourself. You had hardly turned into the street, when you sawa trunk or two, lying on the ground: an uprooted post, a hat-box, a portmanteau, and a carpet-bag, strewed about in a verypicturesque manner: a horse in a cab standing by, looking abouthim with great unconcern; and a crowd, shouting and screaming withdelight, cooling their flushed faces against the glass windows of achemist's shop. --'What's the matter here, can you tell me?'--'O'nya cab, sir. '--'Anybody hurt, do you know?'--'O'ny the fare, sir. Isee him a turnin' the corner, and I ses to another gen'lm'n "that'sa reg'lar little oss that, and he's a comin' along rayther sweet, an't he?"--"He just is, " ses the other gen'lm'n, ven bump they cumsagin the post, and out flies the fare like bricks. ' Need we say itwas the red cab; or that the gentleman with the straw in his mouth, who emerged so coolly from the chemist's shop and philosophicallyclimbing into the little dickey, started off at full gallop, wasthe red cab's licensed driver?

The ubiquity of this red cab, and the influence it exercised overthe risible muscles of justice itself, was perfectly astonishing. You walked into the justice-room of the Mansion-house; the wholecourt resounded with merriment. The Lord Mayor threw himself backin his chair, in a state of frantic delight at his own joke; everyvein in Mr. Hobler's countenance was swollen with laughter, partlyat the Lord Mayor's facetiousness, but more at his own; theconstables and police-officers were (as in duty bound) in ecstasiesat Mr. Hobler and the Lord Mayor combined; and the very paupers, glancing respectfully at the beadle's countenance, tried to smile, as even he relaxed. A tall, weazen-faced man, with an impedimentin his speech, would be endeavouring to state a case of impositionagainst the red cab's driver; and the red cab's driver, and theLord Mayor, and Mr. Hobler, would be having a little fun amongthemselves, to the inordinate delight of everybody but thecomplainant. In the end, justice would be so tickled with the redcab-driver's native humour, that the fine would be mitigated, andhe would go away full gallop, in the red cab, to impose on somebodyelse without loss of time. 

The driver of the red cab, confident in the strength of his ownmoral principles, like many other philosophers, was wont to set thefeelings and opinions of society at complete defiance. Generallyspeaking, perhaps, he would as soon carry a fare safely to hisdestination, as he would upset him--sooner, perhaps, because inthat case he not only got the money, but had the additionalamusement of running a longer heat against some smart rival. Butsociety made war upon him in the shape of penalties, and he mustmake war upon society in his own way. This was the reasoning ofthe red cab-driver. So, he bestowed a searching look upon thefare, as he put his hand in his waistcoat pocket, when he had gonehalf the mile, to get the money ready; and if he brought fortheightpence, out he went. 

The last time we saw our friend was one wet evening in Tottenham-court-road, when he was engaged in a very warm and somewhatpersonal altercation with a loquacious little gentleman in a greencoat. Poor fellow! there were great excuses to be made for him:he had not received above eighteenpence more than his fare, andconsequently laboured under a great deal of very naturalindignation. The dispute had attained a pretty considerableheight, when at last the loquacious little gentleman, making amental calculation of the distance, and finding that he had alreadypaid more than he ought, avowed his unalterable determination to'pull up' the cabman in the morning. 

'Now, just mark this, young man, ' said the little gentleman, 'I'llpull you up to-morrow morning. '

'No! will you though?' said our friend, with a sneer. 

'I will, ' replied the little gentleman, 'mark my words, that's all. If I live till to-morrow morning, you shall repent this. '

There was a steadiness of purpose, and indignation of speech, aboutthe little gentleman, as he took an angry pinch of snuff, afterthis last declaration, which made a visible impression on the mindof the red cab-driver. He appeared to hesitate for an instant. Itwas only for an instant; his resolve was soon taken. 

'You'll pull me up, will you?' said our friend. 

'I will, ' rejoined the little gentleman, with even greatervehemence an before. 

'Very well, ' said our friend, tucking up his shirt sleeves verycalmly. 'There'll be three veeks for that. Wery good; that'llbring me up to the middle o' next month. Three veeks more wouldcarry me on to my birthday, and then I've got ten pound to draw. Imay as well get board, lodgin', and washin', till then, out of thecounty, as pay for it myself; consequently here goes!'

So, without more ado, the red cab-driver knocked the littlegentleman down, and then called the police to take himself intocustody, with all the civility in the world. 

A story is nothing without the sequel; and therefore, we may state, that to our certain knowledge, the board, lodging, and washing wereall provided in due course. We happen to know the fact, for itcame to our knowledge thus: We went over the House of Correctionfor the county of Middlesex shortly after, to witness the operationof the silent system; and looked on all the 'wheels' with thegreatest anxiety, in search of our long-lost friend. He wasnowhere to be seen, however, and we began to think that the littlegentleman in the green coat must have relented, when, as we weretraversing the kitchen-garden, which lies in a sequestered part ofthe prison, we were startled by hearing a voice, which apparentlyproceeded from the wall, pouring forth its soul in the plaintiveair of 'All round my hat, ' which was then just beginning to form arecognised portion of our national music. 

We started. --'What voice is that?' said we. The Governor shook hishead. 

'Sad fellow, ' he replied, 'very sad. He positively refused to workon the wheel; so, after many trials, I was compelled to order himinto solitary confinement. He says he likes it very much though, and I am afraid he does, for he lies on his back on the floor, andsings comic songs all day!'

Shall we add, that our heart had not deceived us and that the comicsinger was no other than our eagerly-sought friend, the red cab-driver?

We have never seen him since, but we have strong reason to suspectthat this noble individual was a distant relative of a waterman ofour acquaintance, who, on one occasion, when we were passing thecoach-stand over which he presides, after standing very quietly tosee a tall man struggle into a cab, ran up very briskly when it wasall over (as his brethren invariably do), and, touching his hat, asked, as a matter of course, for 'a copper for the waterman. 'Now, the fare was by no means a handsome man; and, waxing veryindignant at the demand, he replied--'Money! What for? Coming upand looking at me, I suppose!'--'Vell, sir, ' rejoined the waterman, with a smile of immovable complacency, 'THAT'S worth twopence. '

The identical waterman afterwards attained a very prominent stationin society; and as we know something of his life, and have oftenthought of telling what we DO know, perhaps we shall never have abetter opportunity than the present. 

Mr. William Barker, then, for that was the gentleman's name, Mr. William Barker was born--but why need we relate where Mr. WilliamBarker was born, or when? Why scrutinise the entries in parochialledgers, or seek to penetrate the Lucinian mysteries of lying-inhospitals? Mr. William Barker WAS born, or he had never been. There is a son--there was a father. There is an effect--there wasa cause. Surely this is sufficient information for the mostFatima-like curiosity; and, if it be not, we regret our inabilityto supply any further evidence on the point. Can there be a moresatisfactory, or more strictly parliamentary course? Impossible. 

We at once avow a similar inability to record at what preciseperiod, or by what particular process, this gentleman's patronymic, of William Barker, became corrupted into 'Bill Boorker. ' Mr. Barkeracquired a high standing, and no inconsiderable reputation, amongthe members of that profession to which he more peculiarly devotedhis energies; and to them he was generally known, either by thefamiliar appellation of 'Bill Boorker, ' or the flatteringdesignation of 'Aggerawatin Bill, ' the latter being a playful andexpressive sobriquet, illustrative of Mr. Barker's great talent in'aggerawatin' and rendering wild such subjects of her Majesty asare conveyed from place to place, through the instrumentality ofomnibuses. Of the early life of Mr. Barker little is known, andeven that little is involved in considerable doubt and obscurity. A want of application, a restlessness of purpose, a thirsting afterporter, a love of all that is roving and cadger-like in nature, shared in common with many other great geniuses, appear to havebeen his leading characteristics. The busy hum of a parochialfree-school, and the shady repose of a county gaol, were alikeinefficacious in producing the slightest alteration in Mr. Barker'sdisposition. His feverish attachment to change and variety nothingcould repress; his native daring no punishment could subdue. 

If Mr. Barker can be fairly said to have had any weakness in hisearlier years, it was an amiable one--love; love in its mostcomprehensive form--a love of ladies, liquids, and pocket-handkerchiefs. It was no selfish feeling; it was not confined tohis own possessions, which but too many men regard with exclusivecomplacency. No; it was a nobler love--a general principle. Itextended itself with equal force to the property of other people. 

There is something very affecting in this. It is still moreaffecting to know, that such philanthropy is but imperfectlyrewarded. Bow-street, Newgate, and Millbank, are a poor return forgeneral benevolence, evincing itself in an irrepressible love forall created objects. Mr. Barker felt it so. After a lengthenedinterview with the highest legal authorities, he quitted hisungrateful country, with the consent, and at the expense, of itsGovernment; proceeded to a distant shore; and there employedhimself, like another Cincinnatus, in clearing and cultivating thesoil--a peaceful pursuit, in which a term of seven years glidedalmost imperceptibly away. 

Whether, at the expiration of the period we have just mentioned, the British Government required Mr. Barker's presence here, or didnot require his residence abroad, we have no distinct means ofascertaining. We should be inclined, however, to favour the latterposition, inasmuch as we do not find that he was advanced to anyother public post on his return, than the post at the corner of theHaymarket, where he officiated as assistant-waterman to thehackney-coach stand. Seated, in this capacity, on a couple of tubsnear the curbstone, with a brass plate and number suspended roundhis neck by a massive chain, and his ankles curiously enveloped inhaybands, he is supposed to have made those observations on humannature which exercised so material an influence over all hisproceedings in later life. 

Mr. Barker had not officiated for many months in this capacity, when the appearance of the first omnibus caused the public mind togo in a new direction, and prevented a great many hackney-coachesfrom going in any direction at all. The genius of Mr. Barker atonce perceived the whole extent of the injury that would beeventually inflicted on cab and coach stands, and, by consequence, on watermen also, by the progress of the system of which the firstomnibus was a part. He saw, too, the necessity of adopting somemore profitable profession; and his active mind at once perceivedhow much might be done in the way of enticing the youthful andunwary, and shoving the old and helpless, into the wrong buss, andcarrying them off, until, reduced to despair, they ransomedthemselves by the payment of sixpence a-head, or, to adopt his ownfigurative expression in all its native beauty, 'till they wasrig'larly done over, and forked out the stumpy. '

An opportunity for realising his fondest anticipations, soonpresented itself. Rumours were rife on the hackney-coach stands, that a buss was building, to run from Lisson-grove to the Bank, down Oxford-street and Holborn; and the rapid increase of busses onthe Paddington-road, encouraged the idea. Mr. Barker secretly andcautiously inquired in the proper quarters. The report wascorrect; the 'Royal William' was to make its first journey on thefollowing Monday. It was a crack affair altogether. Anenterprising young cabman, of established reputation as a dashingwhip--for he had compromised with the parents of three scrunchedchildren, and just 'worked out' his fine for knocking down an oldlady--was the driver; and the spirited proprietor, knowing Mr. Barker's qualifications, appointed him to the vacant office of cadon the very first application. The buss began to run, and Mr. Barker entered into a new suit of clothes, and on a new sphere ofaction. 

To recapitulate all the improvements introduced by thisextraordinary man into the omnibus system--gradually, indeed, butsurely--would occupy a far greater space than we are enabled todevote to this imperfect memoir. To him is universally assignedthe original suggestion of the practice which afterwards became sogeneral--of the driver of a second buss keeping constantly behindthe first one, and driving the pole of his vehicle either into thedoor of the other, every time it was opened, or through the body ofany lady or gentleman who might make an attempt to get into it; ahumorous and pleasant invention, exhibiting all that originality ofidea, and fine, bold flow of spirits, so conspicuous in everyaction of this great man. 

Mr. Barker had opponents of course; what man in public life hasnot? But even his worst enemies cannot deny that he has taken moreold ladies and gentlemen to Paddington who wanted to go to theBank, and more old ladies and gentlemen to the Bank who wanted togo to Paddington, than any six men on the road; and however muchmalevolent spirits may pretend to doubt the accuracy of thestatement, they well know it to be an established fact, that he hasforcibly conveyed a variety of ancient persons of either sex, toboth places, who had not the slightest or most distant intention ofgoing anywhere at all. 

Mr. Barker was the identical cad who nobly distinguished himself, some time since, by keeping a tradesman on the step--the omnibusgoing at full speed all the time--till he had thrashed him to hisentire satisfaction, and finally throwing him away, when he hadquite done with him. Mr. Barker it OUGHT to have been, whohonestly indignant at being ignominiously ejected from a house ofpublic entertainment, kicked the landlord in the knee, and therebycaused his death. We say it OUGHT to have been Mr. Barker, becausethe action was not a common one, and could have emanated from noordinary mind. 

It has now become matter of history; it is recorded in the NewgateCalendar; and we wish we could attribute this piece of daringheroism to Mr. Barker. We regret being compelled to state that itwas not performed by him. Would, for the family credit we couldadd, that it was achieved by his brother!

It was in the exercise of the nicer details of his profession, thatMr. Barker's knowledge of human nature was beautifully displayed. He could tell at a glance where a passenger wanted to go to, andwould shout the name of the place accordingly, without theslightest reference to the real destination of the vehicle. Heknew exactly the kind of old lady that would be too much flurriedby the process of pushing in and pulling out of the caravan, todiscover where she had been put down, until too late; had anintuitive perception of what was passing in a passenger's mind whenhe inwardly resolved to 'pull that cad up to-morrow morning;' andnever failed to make himself agreeable to female servants, whom hewould place next the door, and talk to all the way. 

Human judgment is never infallible, and it would occasionallyhappen that Mr. Barker experimentalised with the timidity orforbearance of the wrong person, in which case a summons to aPolice-office, was, on more than one occasion, followed by acommittal to prison. It was not in the power of trifles such asthese, however, to subdue the freedom of his spirit. As soon asthey passed away, he resumed the duties of his profession withunabated ardour. 

We have spoken of Mr. Barker and of the red cab-driver, in the pasttense. Alas! Mr. Barker has again become an absentee; and theclass of men to which they both belonged is fast disappearing. Improvement has peered beneath the aprons of our cabs, andpenetrated to the very innermost recesses of our omnibuses. Dirtand fustian will vanish before cleanliness and livery. Slang willbe forgotten when civility becomes general: and that enlightened, eloquent, sage, and profound body, the Magistracy of London, willbe deprived of half their amusement, and half their occupation. 

CHAPTER XVIII--A PARLIAMENTARY SKETCH

We hope our readers will not be alarmed at this rather ominoustitle. We assure them that we are not about to become political, neither have we the slightest intention of being more prosy thanusual--if we can help it. It has occurred to us that a slightsketch of the general aspect of 'the House, ' and the crowds thatresort to it on the night of an important debate, would beproductive of some amusement: and as we have made some few callsat the aforesaid house in our time--have visited it quite oftenenough for our purpose, and a great deal too often for our personalpeace and comfort--we have determined to attempt the description. Dismissing from our minds, therefore, all that feeling of awe, which vague ideas of breaches of privilege, Serjeant-at-Arms, heavydenunciations, and still heavier fees, are calculated to awaken, weenter at once into the building, and upon our subject. 

Half-past four o'clock--and at five the mover of the Address willbe 'on his legs, ' as the newspapers announce sometimes by way ofnovelty, as if speakers were occasionally in the habit of standingon their heads. The members are pouring in, one after the other, in shoals. The few spectators who can obtain standing-room in thepassages, scrutinise them as they pass, with the utmost interest, and the man who can identify a member occasionally, becomes aperson of great importance. Every now and then you hear earnestwhispers of 'That's Sir John Thomson. ' 'Which? him with the giltorder round his neck?' 'No, no; that's one of the messengers--thatother with the yellow gloves, is Sir John Thomson. ' 'Here's Mr. Smith. ' 'Lor!' 'Yes, how d'ye do, sir?--(He is our new member)--How do you do, sir?' Mr. Smith stops: turns round with an air ofenchanting urbanity (for the rumour of an intended dissolution hasbeen very extensively circulated this morning); seizes both thehands of his gratified constituent, and, after greeting him withthe most enthusiastic warmth, darts into the lobby with anextraordinary display of ardour in the public cause, leaving animmense impression in his favour on the mind of his 'fellow-townsman. '

The arrivals increase in number, and the heat and noise increase invery unpleasant proportion. The livery servants form a completelane on either side of the passage, and you reduce yourself intothe smallest possible space to avoid being turned out. You seethat stout man with the hoarse voice, in the blue coat, queer-crowned, broad-brimmed hat, white corduroy breeches, and greatboots, who has been talking incessantly for half an hour past, andwhose importance has occasioned no small quantity of mirth amongthe strangers. That is the great conservator of the peace ofWestminster. You cannot fail to have remarked the grace with whichhe saluted the noble Lord who passed just now, or the excessivedignity of his air, as he expostulates with the crowd. He israther out of temper now, in consequence of the very irreverentbehaviour of those two young fellows behind him, who have donenothing but laugh all the time they have been here. 

'Will they divide to-night, do you think, Mr. -' timidly inquires alittle thin man in the crowd, hoping to conciliate the man ofoffice. 

'How CAN you ask such questions, sir?' replies the functionary, inan incredibly loud key, and pettishly grasping the thick stick hecarries in his right hand. 'Pray do not, sir. I beg of you; praydo not, sir. ' The little man looks remarkably out of his element, and the uninitiated part of the throng are in positive convulsionsof laughter. 

Just at this moment some unfortunate individual appears, with avery smirking air, at the bottom of the long passage. He hasmanaged to elude the vigilance of the special constable downstairs, and is evidently congratulating himself on having made his way sofar. 

'Go back, sir--you must NOT come here, ' shouts the hoarse one, withtremendous emphasis of voice and gesture, the moment the offendercatches his eye. 

The stranger pauses. 

'Do you hear, sir--will you go back?' continues the officialdignitary, gently pushing the intruder some half-dozen yards. 

'Come, don't push me, ' replies the stranger, turning angrily round. 

'I will, sir. '

'You won't, sir. '

'Go out, sir. '

'Take your hands off me, sir. '

'Go out of the passage, sir. '

'You're a Jack-in-office, sir. '

'A what?' ejaculates he of the boots. 

'A Jack-in-office, sir, and a very insolent fellow, ' reiterates thestranger, now completely in a passion. 

'Pray do not force me to put you out, sir, ' retorts the other--'pray do not--my instructions are to keep this passage clear--it'sthe Speaker's orders, sir. '

'D-n the Speaker, sir!' shouts the intruder. 

'Here, Wilson!--Collins!' gasps the officer, actually paralysed atthis insulting expression, which in his mind is all but hightreason; 'take this man out--take him out, I say! How dare you, sir?' and down goes the unfortunate man five stairs at a time, turning round at every stoppage, to come back again, and denouncingbitter vengeance against the commander-in-chief, and all hissupernumeraries. 

'Make way, gentlemen, --pray make way for the Members, I beg ofyou!' shouts the zealous officer, turning back, and preceding awhole string of the liberal and independent. 

You see this ferocious-looking gentleman, with a complexion almostas sallow as his linen, and whose large black moustache would givehim the appearance of a figure in a hairdresser's window, if hiscountenance possessed the thought which is communicated to thosewaxen caricatures of the human face divine. He is a militia-officer, and the most amusing person in the House. Can anything bemore exquisitely absurd than the burlesque grandeur of his air, ashe strides up to the lobby, his eyes rolling like those of a Turk'shead in a cheap Dutch clock? He never appears without that bundleof dirty papers which he carries under his left arm, and which aregenerally supposed to be the miscellaneous estimates for 1804, orsome equally important documents. He is very punctual in hisattendance at the House, and his self-satisfied 'He-ar-He-ar, ' isnot unfrequently the signal for a general titter. 

This is the gentleman who once actually sent a messenger up to theStrangers' gallery in the old House of Commons, to inquire the nameof an individual who was using an eye-glass, in order that he mightcomplain to the Speaker that the person in question was quizzinghim! On another occasion, he is reported to have repaired toBellamy's kitchen--a refreshment-room, where persons who are notMembers are admitted on sufferance, as it were--and perceiving twoor three gentlemen at supper, who, he was aware, were not Members, and could not, in that place, very well resent his behaviour, heindulged in the pleasantry of sitting with his booted leg on thetable at which they were supping! He is generally harmless, though, and always amusing. 

By dint of patience, and some little interest with our friend theconstable, we have contrived to make our way to the Lobby, and youcan just manage to catch an occasional glimpse of the House, as thedoor is opened for the admission of Members. It is tolerably fullalready, and little groups of Members are congregated togetherhere, discussing the interesting topics of the day. 

That smart-looking fellow in the black coat with velvet facings andcuffs, who wears his D'Orsay hat so rakishly, is 'Honest Tom, ' ametropolitan representative; and the large man in the cloak withthe white lining--not the man by the pillar; the other with thelight hair hanging over his coat collar behind--is his colleague. The quiet gentlemanly-looking man in the blue surtout, graytrousers, white neckerchief and gloves, whose closely-buttoned coatdisplays his manly figure and broad chest to great advantage, is avery well-known character. He has fought a great many battles inhis time, and conquered like the heroes of old, with no other armsthan those the gods gave him. The old hard-featured man who isstanding near him, is really a good specimen of a class of men, nownearly extinct. He is a county Member, and has been from timewhereof the memory of man is not to the contrary. Look at hisloose, wide, brown coat, with capacious pockets on each side; theknee-breeches and boots, the immensely long waistcoat, and silverwatch-chain dangling below it, the wide-brimmed brown hat, and thewhite handkerchief tied in a great bow, with straggling endssticking out beyond his shirt-frill. It is a costume one seldomsees nowadays, and when the few who wear it have died off, it willbe quite extinct. He can tell you long stories of Fox, Pitt, Sheridan, and Canning, and how much better the House was managed inthose times, when they used to get up at eight or nine o'clock, except on regular field-days, of which everybody was apprisedbeforehand. He has a great contempt for all young Members ofParliament, and thinks it quite impossible that a man can sayanything worth hearing, unless he has sat in the House for fifteenyears at least, without saying anything at all. He is of opinionthat 'that young Macaulay' was a regular impostor; he allows, thatLord Stanley may do something one of these days, but 'he's tooyoung, sir--too young. ' He is an excellent authority on points ofprecedent, and when he grows talkative, after his wine, will tellyou how Sir Somebody Something, when he was whipper-in for theGovernment, brought four men out of their beds to vote in themajority, three of whom died on their way home again; how the Houseonce divided on the question, that fresh candles be now brought in;how the Speaker was once upon a time left in the chair by accident, at the conclusion of business, and was obliged to sit in the Houseby himself for three hours, till some Member could be knocked upand brought back again, to move the adjournment; and a great manyother anecdotes of a similar description. 

There he stands, leaning on his stick; looking at the throng ofExquisites around him with most profound contempt; and conjuringup, before his mind's eye, the scenes he beheld in the old House, in days gone by, when his own feelings were fresher and brighter, and when, as he imagines, wit, talent, and patriotism flourishedmore brightly too. 

You are curious to know who that young man in the rough great-coatis, who has accosted every Member who has entered the House sincewe have been standing here. He is not a Member; he is only an'hereditary bondsman, ' or, in other words, an Irish correspondentof an Irish newspaper, who has just procured his forty-second frankfrom a Member whom he never saw in his life before. There he goesagain--another! Bless the man, he has his hat and pockets fullalready. 

We will try our fortune at the Strangers' gallery, though thenature of the debate encourages very little hope of success. Whaton earth are you about? Holding up your order as if it were atalisman at whose command the wicket would fly open? Nonsense. Just preserve the order for an autograph, if it be worth keeping atall, and make your appearance at the door with your thumb andforefinger expressively inserted in your waistcoat-pocket. Thistall stout man in black is the door-keeper. 'Any room?' 'Not aninch--two or three dozen gentlemen waiting down-stairs on thechance of somebody's going out. ' Pull out your purse--'Are youQUITE sure there's no room?'--'I'll go and look, ' replies the door-keeper, with a wistful glance at your purse, 'but I'm afraidthere's not. ' He returns, and with real feeling assures you thatit is morally impossible to get near the gallery. It is of no usewaiting. When you are refused admission into the Strangers'gallery at the House of Commons, under such circumstances, you mayreturn home thoroughly satisfied that the place must be remarkablyfull indeed. {1}

Retracing our steps through the long passage, descending thestairs, and crossing Palace-yard, we halt at a small temporarydoorway adjoining the King's entrance to the House of Lords. Theorder of the serjeant-at-arms will admit you into the Reporters'gallery, from whence you can obtain a tolerably good view of theHouse. Take care of the stairs, they are none of the best; throughthis little wicket--there. As soon as your eyes become a littleused to the mist of the place, and the glare of the chandeliersbelow you, you will see that some unimportant personage on theMinisterial side of the House (to your right hand) is speaking, amidst a hum of voices and confusion which would rival Babel, butfor the circumstance of its being all in one language. 

The 'hear, hear, ' which occasioned that laugh, proceeded from ourwarlike friend with the moustache; he is sitting on the back seatagainst the wall, behind the Member who is speaking, looking asferocious and intellectual as usual. Take one look around you, andretire! The body of the House and the side galleries are full ofMembers; some, with their legs on the back of the opposite seat;some, with theirs stretched out to their utmost length on thefloor; some going out, others coming in; all talking, laughing, lounging, coughing, oh-ing, questioning, or groaning; presenting aconglomeration of noise and confusion, to be met with in no otherplace in existence, not even excepting Smithfield on a market-day, or a cock-pit in its glory. 

But let us not omit to notice Bellamy's kitchen, or, in otherwords, the refreshment-room, common to both Houses of Parliament, where Ministerialists and Oppositionists, Whigs and Tories, Radicals, Peers, and Destructives, strangers from the gallery, andthe more favoured strangers from below the bar, are alike atliberty to resort; where divers honourable members prove theirperfect independence by remaining during the whole of a heavydebate, solacing themselves with the creature comforts; and whencethey are summoned by whippers-in, when the House is on the point ofdividing; either to give their 'conscientious votes' on questionsof which they are conscientiously innocent of knowing anythingwhatever, or to find a vent for the playful exuberance of theirwine-inspired fancies, in boisterous shouts of 'Divide, 'occasionally varied with a little howling, barking, crowing, orother ebullitions of senatorial pleasantry. 

When you have ascended the narrow staircase which, in the presenttemporary House of Commons, leads to the place we are describing, you will probably observe a couple of rooms on your right hand, with tables spread for dining. Neither of these is the kitchen, although they are both devoted to the same purpose; the kitchen isfurther on to our left, up these half-dozen stairs. Before weascend the staircase, however, we must request you to pause infront of this little bar-place with the sash-windows; and beg yourparticular attention to the steady, honest-looking old fellow inblack, who is its sole occupant. Nicholas (we do not mindmentioning the old fellow's name, for if Nicholas be not a publicman, who is?--and public men's names are public property)--Nicholasis the butler of Bellamy's, and has held the same place, dressedexactly in the same manner, and said precisely the same things, ever since the oldest of its present visitors can remember. Anexcellent servant Nicholas is--an unrivalled compounder of salad-dressing--an admirable preparer of soda-water and lemon--a specialmixer of cold grog and punch--and, above all, an unequalled judgeof cheese. If the old man have such a thing as vanity in hiscomposition, this is certainly his pride; and if it be possible toimagine that anything in this world could disturb his impenetrablecalmness, we should say it would be the doubting his judgment onthis important point. 

We needn't tell you all this, however, for if you have an atom ofobservation, one glance at his sleek, knowing-looking head andface--his prim white neckerchief, with the wooden tie into which ithas been regularly folded for twenty years past, merging byimperceptible degrees into a small-plaited shirt-frill--and hiscomfortable-looking form encased in a well-brushed suit of black--would give you a better idea of his real character than a column ofour poor description could convey. 

Nicholas is rather out of his element now; he cannot see thekitchen as he used to in the old House; there, one window of hisglass-case opened into the room, and then, for the edification andbehoof of more juvenile questioners, he would stand for an hourtogether, answering deferential questions about Sheridan, andPercival, and Castlereagh, and Heaven knows who beside, withmanifest delight, always inserting a 'Mister' before everycommoner's name. 

Nicholas, like all men of his age and standing, has a great idea ofthe degeneracy of the times. He seldom expresses any politicalopinions, but we managed to ascertain, just before the passing ofthe Reform Bill, that Nicholas was a thorough Reformer. What wasour astonishment to discover shortly after the meeting of the firstreformed Parliament, that he was a most inveterate and decidedTory! It was very odd: some men change their opinions fromnecessity, others from expediency, others from inspiration; butthat Nicholas should undergo any change in any respect, was anevent we had never contemplated, and should have consideredimpossible. His strong opinion against the clause which empoweredthe metropolitan districts to return Members to Parliament, too, was perfectly unaccountable. 

We discovered the secret at last; the metropolitan Members alwaysdined at home. The rascals! As for giving additional Members toIreland, it was even worse--decidedly unconstitutional. Why, sir, an Irish Member would go up there, and eat more dinner than threeEnglish Members put together. He took no wine; drank table-beer bythe half-gallon; and went home to Manchester-buildings, orMillbank-street, for his whiskey-and-water. And what was theconsequence? Why, the concern lost--actually lost, sir--by hispatronage. A queer old fellow is Nicholas, and as completely apart of the building as the house itself. We wonder he ever leftthe old place, and fully expected to see in the papers, the morningafter the fire, a pathetic account of an old gentleman in black, ofdecent appearance, who was seen at one of the upper windows whenthe flames were at their height, and declared his resoluteintention of falling with the floor. He must have been got out byforce. However, he was got out--here he is again, looking as healways does, as if he had been in a bandbox ever since the lastsession. There he is, at his old post every night, just as we havedescribed him: and, as characters are scarce, and faithfulservants scarcer, long may he be there, say we!

Now, when you have taken your seat in the kitchen, and duly noticedthe large fire and roasting-jack at one end of the room--the littletable for washing glasses and draining jugs at the other--the clockover the window opposite St. Margaret's Church--the deal tables andwax candles--the damask table-cloths and bare floor--the plate andchina on the tables, and the gridiron on the fire; and a few otheranomalies peculiar to the place--we will point out to your noticetwo or three of the people present, whose station or absurditiesrender them the most worthy of remark. 

It is half-past twelve o'clock, and as the division is not expectedfor an hour or two, a few Members are lounging away the time herein preference to standing at the bar of the House, or sleeping inone of the side galleries. That singularly awkward and ungainly-looking man, in the brownish-white hat, with the straggling blacktrousers which reach about half-way down the leg of his boots, whois leaning against the meat-screen, apparently deluding himselfinto the belief that he is thinking about something, is a splendidsample of a Member of the House of Commons concentrating in his ownperson the wisdom of a constituency. Observe the wig, of a darkhue but indescribable colour, for if it be naturally brown, it hasacquired a black tint by long service, and if it be naturallyblack, the same cause has imparted to it a tinge of rusty brown;and remark how very materially the great blinker-like spectaclesassist the expression of that most intelligent face. Seriouslyspeaking, did you ever see a countenance so expressive of the mosthopeless extreme of heavy dulness, or behold a form so strangelyput together? He is no great speaker: but when he DOES addressthe House, the effect is absolutely irresistible. 

The small gentleman with the sharp nose, who has just saluted him, is a Member of Parliament, an ex-Alderman, and a sort of amateurfireman. He, and the celebrated fireman's dog, were observed to beremarkably active at the conflagration of the two Houses ofParliament--they both ran up and down, and in and out, gettingunder people's feet, and into everybody's way, fully impressed withthe belief that they were doing a great deal of good, and barkingtremendously. The dog went quietly back to his kennel with theengine, but the gentleman kept up such an incessant noise for someweeks after the occurrence, that he became a positive nuisance. Asno more parliamentary fires have occurred, however, and as he hasconsequently had no more opportunities of writing to the newspapersto relate how, by way of preserving pictures he cut them out oftheir frames, and performed other great national services, he hasgradually relapsed into his old state of calmness. 

That female in black--not the one whom the Lord's-Day-Bill Baronethas just chucked under the chin; the shorter of the two--is 'Jane:'the Hebe of Bellamy's. Jane is as great a character as Nicholas, in her way. Her leading features are a thorough contempt for thegreat majority of her visitors; her predominant quality, love ofadmiration, as you cannot fail to observe, if you mark the gleewith which she listens to something the young Member near hermutters somewhat unintelligibly in her ear (for his speech israther thick from some cause or other), and how playfully she digsthe handle of a fork into the arm with which he detains her, by wayof reply. 

Jane is no bad hand at repartees, and showers them about, with adegree of liberality and total absence of reserve or constraint, which occasionally excites no small amazement in the minds ofstrangers. She cuts jokes with Nicholas, too, but looks up to himwith a great deal of respect--the immovable stolidity with whichNicholas receives the aforesaid jokes, and looks on, at certainpastoral friskings and rompings (Jane's only recreations, and theyare very innocent too) which occasionally take place in thepassage, is not the least amusing part of his character. 

The two persons who are seated at the table in the corner, at thefarther end of the room, have been constant guests here, for manyyears past; and one of them has feasted within these walls, many atime, with the most brilliant characters of a brilliant period. Hehas gone up to the other House since then; the greater part of hisboon companions have shared Yorick's fate, and his visits toBellamy's are comparatively few. 

If he really be eating his supper now, at what hour can he possiblyhave dined! A second solid mass of rump-steak has disappeared, andhe eat the first in four minutes and three quarters, by the clockover the window. Was there ever such a personification ofFalstaff! Mark the air with which he gloats over that Stilton, ashe removes the napkin which has been placed beneath his chin tocatch the superfluous gravy of the steak, and with what gusto heimbibes the porter which has been fetched, expressly for him, inthe pewter pot. Listen to the hoarse sound of that voice, keptdown as it is by layers of solids, and deep draughts of rich wine, and tell us if you ever saw such a perfect picture of a regulargourmand; and whether he is not exactly the man whom you wouldpitch upon as having been the partner of Sheridan's parliamentarycarouses, the volunteer driver of the hackney-coach that took himhome, and the involuntary upsetter of the whole party?

What an amusing contrast between his voice and appearance, and thatof the spare, squeaking old man, who sits at the same table, andwho, elevating a little cracked bantam sort of voice to its highestpitch, invokes damnation upon his own eyes or somebody else's atthe commencement of every sentence he utters. 'The Captain, ' asthey call him, is a very old frequenter of Bellamy's; much addictedto stopping 'after the House is up' (an inexpiable crime in Jane'seyes), and a complete walking reservoir of spirits and water. 

The old Peer--or rather, the old man--for his peerage is ofcomparatively recent date--has a huge tumbler of hot punch broughthim; and the other damns and drinks, and drinks and damns, andsmokes. Members arrive every moment in a great bustle to reportthat 'The Chancellor of the Exchequer's up, ' and to get glasses ofbrandy-and-water to sustain them during the division; people whohave ordered supper, countermand it, and prepare to go down-stairs, when suddenly a bell is heard to ring with tremendous violence, anda cry of 'Di-vi-sion!' is heard in the passage. This is enough;away rush the members pell-mell. The room is cleared in aninstant; the noise rapidly dies away; you hear the creaking of thelast boot on the last stair, and are left alone with the leviathanof rump-steaks. 

CHAPTER XIX--PUBLIC DINNERS

All public dinners in London, from the Lord Mayor's annual banquetat Guildhall, to the Chimney-sweepers' anniversary at White ConduitHouse; from the Goldsmiths' to the Butchers', from the Sheriffs' tothe Licensed Victuallers'; are amusing scenes. Of allentertainments of this description, however, we think the annualdinner of some public charity is the most amusing. At a Company'sdinner, the people are nearly all alike--regular old stagers, whomake it a matter of business, and a thing not to be laughed at. Ata political dinner, everybody is disagreeable, and inclined tospeechify--much the same thing, by-the-bye; but at a charity dinneryou see people of all sorts, kinds, and descriptions. The wine maynot be remarkably special, to be sure, and we have heard somehardhearted monsters grumble at the collection; but we really thinkthe amusement to be derived from the occasion, sufficient tocounterbalance even these disadvantages. 

Let us suppose you are induced to attend a dinner of thisdescription--'Indigent Orphans' Friends' Benevolent Institution, 'we think it is. The name of the charity is a line or two longer, but never mind the rest. You have a distinct recollection, however, that you purchased a ticket at the solicitation of somecharitable friend: and you deposit yourself in a hackney-coach, the driver of which--no doubt that you may do the thing in style--turns a deaf ear to your earnest entreaties to be set down at thecorner of Great Queen-street, and persists in carrying you to thevery door of the Freemasons', round which a crowd of people areassembled to witness the entrance of the indigent orphans' friends. You hear great speculations as you pay the fare, on the possibilityof your being the noble Lord who is announced to fill the chair onthe occasion, and are highly gratified to hear it eventuallydecided that you are only a 'wocalist. '

The first thing that strikes you, on your entrance, is theastonishing importance of the committee. You observe a door on thefirst landing, carefully guarded by two waiters, in and out ofwhich stout gentlemen with very red faces keep running, with adegree of speed highly unbecoming the gravity of persons of theiryears and corpulency. You pause, quite alarmed at the bustle, andthinking, in your innocence, that two or three people must havebeen carried out of the dining-room in fits, at least. You areimmediately undeceived by the waiter--'Up-stairs, if you please, sir; this is the committee-room. ' Up-stairs you go, accordingly;wondering, as you mount, what the duties of the committee can be, and whether they ever do anything beyond confusing each other, andrunning over the waiters. 

Having deposited your hat and cloak, and received a remarkablysmall scrap of pasteboard in exchange (which, as a matter ofcourse, you lose, before you require it again), you enter the hall, down which there are three long tables for the less distinguishedguests, with a cross table on a raised platform at the upper endfor the reception of the very particular friends of the indigentorphans. Being fortunate enough to find a plate without anybody'scard in it, you wisely seat yourself at once, and have a littleleisure to look about you. Waiters, with wine-baskets in theirhands, are placing decanters of sherry down the tables, at veryrespectable distances; melancholy-looking salt-cellars, and decayedvinegar-cruets, which might have belonged to the parents of theindigent orphans in their time, are scattered at distant intervalson the cloth; and the knives and forks look as if they had doneduty at every public dinner in London since the accession of Georgethe First. The musicians are scraping and grating and screwingtremendously--playing no notes but notes of preparation; andseveral gentlemen are gliding along the sides of the tables, looking into plate after plate with frantic eagerness, theexpression of their countenances growing more and more dismal asthey meet with everybody's card but their own. 

You turn round to take a look at the table behind you, and--notbeing in the habit of attending public dinners--are somewhat struckby the appearance of the party on which your eyes rest. One of itsprincipal members appears to be a little man, with a long andrather inflamed face, and gray hair brushed bolt upright in front;he wears a wisp of black silk round his neck, without anystiffener, as an apology for a neckerchief, and is addressed by hiscompanions by the familiar appellation of 'Fitz, ' or some suchmonosyllable. Near him is a stout man in a white neckerchief andbuff waistcoat, with shining dark hair, cut very short in front, and a great, round, healthy-looking face, on which he studiouslypreserves a half sentimental simper. Next him, again, is a large-headed man, with black hair and bushy whiskers; and opposite themare two or three others, one of whom is a little round-facedperson, in a dress-stock and blue under-waistcoat. There issomething peculiar in their air and manner, though you could hardlydescribe what it is; you cannot divest yourself of the idea thatthey have come for some other purpose than mere eating anddrinking. You have no time to debate the matter, however, for thewaiters (who have been arranged in lines down the room, placing thedishes on table) retire to the lower end; the dark man in the bluecoat and bright buttons, who has the direction of the music, looksup to the gallery, and calls out 'band' in a very loud voice; outburst the orchestra, up rise the visitors, in march fourteenstewards, each with a long wand in his hand, like the evil geniusin a pantomime; then the chairman, then the titled visitors; theyall make their way up the room, as fast as they can, bowing, andsmiling, and smirking, and looking remarkably amiable. Theapplause ceases, grace is said, the clatter of plates and dishesbegins; and every one appears highly gratified, either with thepresence of the distinguished visitors, or the commencement of theanxiously-expected dinner. 

As to the dinner itself--the mere dinner--it goes off much the sameeverywhere. Tureens of soup are emptied with awful rapidity--waiters take plates of turbot away, to get lobster-sauce, and bringback plates of lobster-sauce without turbot; people who can carvepoultry, are great fools if they own it, and people who can't haveno wish to learn. The knives and forks form a pleasingaccompaniment to Auber's music, and Auber's music would form apleasing accompaniment to the dinner, if you could hear anythingbesides the cymbals. The substantials disappear--moulds of jellyvanish like lightning--hearty eaters wipe their foreheads, andappear rather overcome by their recent exertions--people who havelooked very cross hitherto, become remarkably bland, and ask you totake wine in the most friendly manner possible--old gentlemendirect your attention to the ladies' gallery, and take great painsto impress you with the fact that the charity is always peculiarlyfavoured in this respect--every one appears disposed to becometalkative--and the hum of conversation is loud and general. 

'Pray, silence, gentlemen, if you please, for Non nobis!' shoutsthe toast-master with stentorian lungs--a toast-master's shirt-front, waistcoat, and neckerchief, by-the-bye, always exhibit threedistinct shades of cloudy-white. --'Pray, silence, gentlemen, forNon nobis!' The singers, whom you discover to be no other than thevery party that excited your curiosity at first, after 'pitching'their voices immediately begin TOO-TOOing most dismally, on whichthe regular old stagers burst into occasional cries of--'Sh--Sh--waiters!--Silence, waiters--stand still, waiters--keep back, waiters, ' and other exorcisms, delivered in a tone of indignantremonstrance. The grace is soon concluded, and the company resumetheir seats. The uninitiated portion of the guests applaud Nonnobis as vehemently as if it were a capital comic song, greatly tothe scandal and indignation of the regular diners, who immediatelyattempt to quell this sacrilegious approbation, by cries of 'Hush, hush!' whereupon the others, mistaking these sounds for hisses, applaud more tumultuously than before, and, by way of placing theirapproval beyond the possibility of doubt, shout 'Encore!' mostvociferously. 

The moment the noise ceases, up starts the toast-master:-'Gentlemen, charge your glasses, if you please!' Decanters havingbeen handed about, and glasses filled, the toast-master proceeds, in a regular ascending scale:- 'Gentlemen--AIR--you--all charged?Pray--silence--gentlemen--for--the cha-i-r!' The chairman rises, and, after stating that he feels it quite unnecessary to prefacethe toast he is about to propose, with any observations whatever, wanders into a maze of sentences, and flounders about in the mostextraordinary manner, presenting a lamentable spectacle ofmystified humanity, until he arrives at the words, 'constitutionalsovereign of these realms, ' at which elderly gentlemen exclaim'Bravo!' and hammer the table tremendously with their knife-handles. 'Under any circumstances, it would give him the greatestpride, it would give him the greatest pleasure--he might almostsay, it would afford him satisfaction [cheers] to propose thattoast. What must be his feelings, then, when he has thegratification of announcing, that he has received her Majesty'scommands to apply to the Treasurer of her Majesty's Household, forher Majesty's annual donation of 25l. In aid of the funds of thischarity!' This announcement (which has been regularly made byevery chairman, since the first foundation of the charity, forty-two years ago) calls forth the most vociferous applause; the toastis drunk with a great deal of cheering and knocking; and 'God savethe Queen' is sung by the 'professional gentlemen;' theunprofessional gentlemen joining in the chorus, and giving thenational anthem an effect which the newspapers, with great justice, describe as 'perfectly electrical. '

The other 'loyal and patriotic' toasts having been drunk with alldue enthusiasm, a comic song having been well sung by the gentlemanwith the small neckerchief, and a sentimental one by the second ofthe party, we come to the most important toast of the evening--'Prosperity to the charity. ' Here again we are compelled to adoptnewspaper phraseology, and to express our regret at being'precluded from giving even the substance of the noble lord'sobservations. ' Suffice it to say, that the speech, which issomewhat of the longest, is rapturously received; and the toasthaving been drunk, the stewards (looking more important than ever)leave the room, and presently return, heading a procession ofindigent orphans, boys and girls, who walk round the room, curtseying, and bowing, and treading on each other's heels, andlooking very much as if they would like a glass of wine apiece, tothe high gratification of the company generally, and especially ofthe lady patronesses in the gallery. Exeunt children, and re-enterstewards, each with a blue plate in his hand. The band plays alively air; the majority of the company put their hands in theirpockets and look rather serious; and the noise of sovereigns, rattling on crockery, is heard from all parts of the room. 

After a short interval, occupied in singing and toasting, thesecretary puts on his spectacles, and proceeds to read the reportand list of subscriptions, the latter being listened to with greatattention. 'Mr. Smith, one guinea--Mr. Tompkins, one guinea--Mr. Wilson, one guinea--Mr. Hickson, one guinea--Mr. Nixon, oneguinea--Mr. Charles Nixon, one guinea--[hear, hear!]--Mr. JamesNixon, one guinea--Mr. Thomas Nixon, one pound one [tremendousapplause]. Lord Fitz Binkle, the chairman of the day, in additionto an annual donation of fifteen pounds--thirty guineas [prolongedknocking: several gentlemen knock the stems off their wine-glasses, in the vehemence of their approbation]. Lady, FitzBinkle, in addition to an annual donation of ten pound--twentypound' [protracted knocking and shouts of 'Bravo!'] The list beingat length concluded, the chairman rises, and proposes the health ofthe secretary, than whom he knows no more zealous or estimableindividual. The secretary, in returning thanks, observes that HEknows no more excellent individual than the chairman--except thesenior officer of the charity, whose health HE begs to propose. The senior officer, in returning thanks, observes that HE knows nomore worthy man than the secretary--except Mr. Walker, the auditor, whose health HE begs to propose. Mr. Walker, in returning thanks, discovers some other estimable individual, to whom alone the seniorofficer is inferior--and so they go on toasting and lauding andthanking: the only other toast of importance being 'The LadyPatronesses now present!' on which all the gentlemen turn theirfaces towards the ladies' gallery, shouting tremendously; andlittle priggish men, who have imbibed more wine than usual, kisstheir hands and exhibit distressing contortions of visage. 

We have protracted our dinner to so great a length, that we havehardly time to add one word by way of grace. We can only entreatour readers not to imagine, because we have attempted to extractsome amusement from a charity dinner, that we are at all disposedto underrate, either the excellence of the benevolent institutionswith which London abounds, or the estimable motives of those whosupport them. 

CHAPTER XX--THE FIRST OF MAY

'Now ladies, up in the sky-parlour: only once a year, if youplease!'YOUNG LADY WITH BRASS LADLE. 

'Sweep--sweep--sw-e-ep!'ILLEGAL WATCHWORD. 

The first of May! There is a merry freshness in the sound, callingto our minds a thousand thoughts of all that is pleasant in natureand beautiful in her most delightful form. What man is there, overwhose mind a bright spring morning does not exercise a magicinfluence--carrying him back to the days of his childish sports, and conjuring up before him the old green field with its gently-waving trees, where the birds sang as he has never heard themsince--where the butterfly fluttered far more gaily than he eversees him now, in all his ramblings--where the sky seemed bluer, andthe sun shone more brightly--where the air blew more freshly overgreener grass, and sweeter-smelling flowers--where everything worea richer and more brilliant hue than it is ever dressed in now!Such are the deep feelings of childhood, and such are theimpressions which every lovely object stamps upon its heart! Thehardy traveller wanders through the maze of thick and pathlesswoods, where the sun's rays never shone, and heaven's pure airnever played; he stands on the brink of the roaring waterfall, and, giddy and bewildered, watches the foaming mass as it leaps fromstone to stone, and from crag to crag; he lingers in the fertileplains of a land of perpetual sunshine, and revels in the luxury oftheir balmy breath. But what are the deep forests, or thethundering waters, or the richest landscapes that bounteous natureever spread, to charm the eyes, and captivate the senses of man, compared with the recollection of the old scenes of his earlyyouth? Magic scenes indeed; for the fancies of childhood dressedthem in colours brighter than the rainbow, and almost as fleeting!

In former times, spring brought with it not only such associationsas these, connected with the past, but sports and games for thepresent--merry dances round rustic pillars, adorned with emblems ofthe season, and reared in honour of its coming. Where are theynow! Pillars we have, but they are no longer rustic ones; and asto dancers, they are used to rooms, and lights, and would not showwell in the open air. Think of the immorality, too! What wouldyour sabbath enthusiasts say, to an aristocratic ring encirclingthe Duke of York's column in Carlton-terrace--a grand poussette ofthe middle classes, round Alderman Waithman's monument in Fleet-street, --or a general hands-four-round of ten-pound householders, at the foot of the Obelisk in St. George's-fields? Alas! romancecan make no head against the riot act; and pastoral simplicity isnot understood by the police. 

Well; many years ago we began to be a steady and matter-of-factsort of people, and dancing in spring being beneath our dignity, wegave it up, and in course of time it descended to the sweeps--afall certainly, because, though sweeps are very good fellows intheir way, and moreover very useful in a civilised community, theyare not exactly the sort of people to give the tone to the littleelegances of society. The sweeps, however, got the dancing tothemselves, and they kept it up, and handed it down. This was asevere blow to the romance of spring-time, but, it did not entirelydestroy it, either; for a portion of it descended to the sweepswith the dancing, and rendered them objects of great interest. Amystery hung over the sweeps in those days. Legends were inexistence of wealthy gentlemen who had lost children, and who, after many years of sorrow and suffering, had found them in thecharacter of sweeps. Stories were related of a young boy who, having been stolen from his parents in his infancy, and devoted tothe occupation of chimney-sweeping, was sent, in the course of hisprofessional career, to sweep the chimney of his mother's bedroom;and how, being hot and tired when he came out of the chimney, hegot into the bed he had so often slept in as an infant, and wasdiscovered and recognised therein by his mother, who once everyyear of her life, thereafter, requested the pleasure of the companyof every London sweep, at half-past one o'clock, to roast beef, plum-pudding, porter, and sixpence. 

Such stories as these, and there were many such, threw an air ofmystery round the sweeps, and produced for them some of those goodeffects which animals derive from the doctrine of thetransmigration of souls. No one (except the masters) thought ofill-treating a sweep, because no one knew who he might be, or whatnobleman's or gentleman's son he might turn out. Chimney-sweepingwas, by many believers in the marvellous, considered as a sort ofprobationary term, at an earlier or later period of which, diversyoung noblemen were to come into possession of their rank andtitles: and the profession was held by them in great respectaccordingly. 

We remember, in our young days, a little sweep about our own age, with curly hair and white teeth, whom we devoutly and sincerelybelieved to be the lost son and heir of some illustrious personage--an impression which was resolved into an unchangeable convictionon our infant mind, by the subject of our speculations informingus, one day, in reply to our question, propounded a few momentsbefore his ascent to the summit of the kitchen chimney, 'that hebelieved he'd been born in the vurkis, but he'd never know'd hisfather. ' We felt certain, from that time forth, that he would oneday be owned by a lord: and we never heard the church-bells ring, or saw a flag hoisted in the neighbourhood, without thinking thatthe happy event had at last occurred, and that his long-lost parenthad arrived in a coach and six, to take him home to Grosvenor-square. He never came, however; and, at the present moment, theyoung gentleman in question is settled down as a master sweep inthe neighbourhood of Battle-bridge, his distinguishingcharacteristics being a decided antipathy to washing himself, andthe possession of a pair of legs very inadequate to the support ofhis unwieldy and corpulent body. 

The romance of spring having gone out before our time, we were fainto console ourselves as we best could with the uncertainty thatenveloped the birth and parentage of its attendant dancers, thesweeps; and we DID console ourselves with it, for many years. But, even this wicked source of comfort received a shock from which ithas never recovered--a shock which has been in reality its death-blow. We could not disguise from ourselves the fact that wholefamilies of sweeps were regularly born of sweeps, in the ruraldistricts of Somers Town and Camden Town--that the eldest sonsucceeded to the father's business, that the other branchesassisted him therein, and commenced on their own account; thattheir children again, were educated to the profession; and thatabout their identity there could be no mistake whatever. We couldnot be blind, we say, to this melancholy truth, but we could notbring ourselves to admit it, nevertheless, and we lived on for someyears in a state of voluntary ignorance. We were roused from ourpleasant slumber by certain dark insinuations thrown out by afriend of ours, to the effect that children in the lower ranks oflife were beginning to CHOOSE chimney-sweeping as their particularwalk; that applications had been made by various boys to theconstituted authorities, to allow them to pursue the object oftheir ambition with the full concurrence and sanction of the law;that the affair, in short, was becoming one of mere legal contract. We turned a deaf ear to these rumours at first, but slowly andsurely they stole upon us. Month after month, week after week, nay, day after day, at last, did we meet with accounts of similarapplications. The veil was removed, all mystery was at an end, andchimney-sweeping had become a favourite and chosen pursuit. Thereis no longer any occasion to steal boys; for boys flock in crowdsto bind themselves. The romance of the trade has fled, and thechimney-sweeper of the present day, is no more like unto him ofthirty years ago, than is a Fleet-street pickpocket to a Spanishbrigand, or Paul Pry to Caleb Williams. 

This gradual decay and disuse of the practice of leading nobleyouths into captivity, and compelling them to ascend chimneys, wasa severe blow, if we may so speak, to the romance of chimney-sweeping, and to the romance of spring at the same time. But eventhis was not all, for some few years ago the dancing on May-daybegan to decline; small sweeps were observed to congregate in twosor threes, unsupported by a 'green, ' with no 'My Lord' to act asmaster of the ceremonies, and no 'My Lady' to preside over theexchequer. Even in companies where there was a 'green' it was anabsolute nothing--a mere sprout--and the instrumentalaccompaniments rarely extended beyond the shovels and a set ofPanpipes, better known to the many, as a 'mouth-organ. '

These were signs of the times, portentous omens of a coming change;and what was the result which they shadowed forth? Why, the mastersweeps, influenced by a restless spirit of innovation, actuallyinterposed their authority, in opposition to the dancing, andsubstituted a dinner--an anniversary dinner at White Conduit House--where clean faces appeared in lieu of black ones smeared with rosepink; and knee cords and tops superseded nankeen drawers androsetted shoes. 

Gentlemen who were in the habit of riding shy horses; and steady-going people who have no vagrancy in their souls, lauded thisalteration to the skies, and the conduct of the master sweeps wasdescribed beyond the reach of praise. But how stands the realfact? Let any man deny, if he can, that when the cloth had beenremoved, fresh pots and pipes laid upon the table, and thecustomary loyal and patriotic toasts proposed, the celebrated Mr. Sluffen, of Adam-and-Eve-court, whose authority not the mostmalignant of our opponents can call in question, expressed himselfin a manner following: 'That now he'd cotcht the cheerman's hi, hevished he might be jolly vell blessed, if he worn't a goin' to havehis innings, vich he vould say these here obserwashuns--that howsome mischeevus coves as know'd nuffin about the consarn, had triedto sit people agin the mas'r swips, and take the shine out o' theirbis'nes, and the bread out o' the traps o' their preshus kids, by amakin' o' this here remark, as chimblies could be as vell svept by'sheenery as by boys; and that the makin' use o' boys for thatthere purpuss vos barbareous; vereas, he 'ad been a chummy--hebegged the cheerman's parding for usin' such a wulgar hexpression--more nor thirty year--he might say he'd been born in a chimbley--and he know'd uncommon vell as 'sheenery vos vus nor o' no use:and as to kerhewelty to the boys, everybody in the chimbley lineknow'd as vell as he did, that they liked the climbin' better nornuffin as vos. ' From this day, we date the total fall of the lastlingering remnant of May-day dancing, among the elite of theprofession: and from this period we commence a new era in thatportion of our spring associations which relates to the first ofMay. 

We are aware that the unthinking part of the population will meetus here, with the assertion, that dancing on May-day stillcontinues--that 'greens' are annually seen to roll along thestreets--that youths in the garb of clowns, precede them, givingvent to the ebullitions of their sportive fancies; and that lordsand ladies follow in their wake. 

Granted. We are ready to acknowledge that in outward show, theseprocessions have greatly improved: we do not deny the introductionof solos on the drum; we will even go so far as to admit anoccasional fantasia on the triangle, but here our admissions end. We positively deny that the sweeps have art or part in theseproceedings. We distinctly charge the dustmen with throwing whatthey ought to clear away, into the eyes of the public. We accusescavengers, brickmakers, and gentlemen who devote their energies tothe costermongering line, with obtaining money once a-year, underfalse pretences. We cling with peculiar fondness to the custom ofdays gone by, and have shut out conviction as long as we could, butit has forced itself upon us; and we now proclaim to a deludedpublic, that the May-day dancers are NOT sweeps. The size of them, alone, is sufficient to repudiate the idea. It is a notorious factthat the widely-spread taste for register-stoves has materiallyincreased the demand for small boys; whereas the men, who, under afictitious character, dance about the streets on the first of Maynowadays, would be a tight fit in a kitchen flue, to say nothing ofthe parlour. This is strong presumptive evidence, but we havepositive proof--the evidence of our own senses. And here is ourtestimony. 

Upon the morning of the second of the merry month of May, in theyear of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and thirty-six, we wentout for a stroll, with a kind of forlorn hope of seeing somethingor other which might induce us to believe that it was reallyspring, and not Christmas. After wandering as far as CopenhagenHouse, without meeting anything calculated to dispel our impressionthat there was a mistake in the almanacks, we turned back downMaidenlane, with the intention of passing through the extensivecolony lying between it and Battle-bridge, which is inhabited byproprietors of donkey-carts, boilers of horse-flesh, makers oftiles, and sifters of cinders; through which colony we should havepassed, without stoppage or interruption, if a little crowdgathered round a shed had not attracted our attention, and inducedus to pause. 

When we say a 'shed, ' we do not mean the conservatory sort ofbuilding, which, according to the old song, Love tenanted when hewas a young man, but a wooden house with windows stuffed with ragsand paper, and a small yard at the side, with one dust-cart, twobaskets, a few shovels, and little heaps of cinders, and fragmentsof china and tiles, scattered about it. Before this inviting spotwe paused; and the longer we looked, the more we wondered whatexciting circumstance it could be, that induced the foremostmembers of the crowd to flatten their noses against the parlourwindow, in the vain hope of catching a glimpse of what was going oninside. After staring vacantly about us for some minutes, weappealed, touching the cause of this assemblage, to a gentleman ina suit of tarpaulin, who was smoking his pipe on our right hand;but as the only answer we obtained was a playful inquiry whetherour mother had disposed of her mangle, we determined to await theissue in silence. 

Judge of our virtuous indignation, when the street-door of the shedopened, and a party emerged therefrom, clad in the costume andemulating the appearance, of May-day sweeps!

The first person who appeared was 'my lord, ' habited in a blue coatand bright buttons, with gilt paper tacked over the seams, yellowknee-breeches, pink cotton stockings, and shoes; a cocked hat, ornamented with shreds of various-coloured paper, on his head, abouquet the size of a prize cauliflower in his button-hole, a longBelcher handkerchief in his right hand, and a thin cane in hisleft. A murmur of applause ran through the crowd (which waschiefly composed of his lordship's personal friends), when thisgraceful figure made his appearance, which swelled into a burst ofapplause as his fair partner in the dance bounded forth to joinhim. Her ladyship was attired in pink crape over bed-furniture, with a low body and short sleeves. The symmetry of her ankles waspartially concealed by a very perceptible pair of frilled trousers;and the inconvenience which might have resulted from thecircumstance of her white satin shoes being a few sizes too large, was obviated by their being firmly attached to her legs with strongtape sandals. 

Her head was ornamented with a profusion of artificial flowers; andin her hand she bore a large brass ladle, wherein to receive whatshe figuratively denominated 'the tin. ' The other characters werea young gentleman in girl's clothes and a widow's cap; two clownswho walked upon their hands in the mud, to the immeasurable delightof all the spectators; a man with a drum; another man with aflageolet; a dirty woman in a large shawl, with a box under her armfor the money, --and last, though not least, the 'green, ' animatedby no less a personage than our identical friend in the tarpaulinsuit. 

The man hammered away at the drum, the flageolet squeaked, theshovels rattled, the 'green' rolled about, pitching first on oneside and then on the other; my lady threw her right foot over herleft ankle, and her left foot over her right ankle, alternately; mylord ran a few paces forward, and butted at the 'green, ' and then afew paces backward upon the toes of the crowd, and then went to theright, and then to the left, and then dodged my lady round the'green;' and finally drew her arm through his, and called upon theboys to shout, which they did lustily--for this was the dancing. 

We passed the same group, accidentally, in the evening. We neversaw a 'green' so drunk, a lord so quarrelsome (no: not even in thehouse of peers after dinner), a pair of clowns so melancholy, alady so muddy, or a party so miserable. 

How has May-day decayed!

CHAPTER XXI--BROKERS' AND MARINE-STORE SHOPS

When we affirm that brokers' shops are strange places, and that ifan authentic history of their contents could be procured, it wouldfurnish many a page of amusement, and many a melancholy tale, it isnecessary to explain the class of shops to which we allude. Perhaps when we make use of the term 'Brokers' Shop, ' the minds ofour readers will at once picture large, handsome warehouses, exhibiting a long perspective of French-polished dining-tables, rosewood chiffoniers, and mahogany wash-hand-stands, with anoccasional vista of a four-post bedstead and hangings, and anappropriate foreground of dining-room chairs. Perhaps they willimagine that we mean an humble class of second-hand furniturerepositories. Their imagination will then naturally lead them tothat street at the back of Long-acre, which is composed almostentirely of brokers' shops; where you walk through groves ofdeceitful, showy-looking furniture, and where the prospect isoccasionally enlivened by a bright red, blue, and yellow hearth-rug, embellished with the pleasing device of a mail-coach at fullspeed, or a strange animal, supposed to have been originallyintended for a dog, with a mass of worsted-work in his mouth, whichconjecture has likened to a basket of flowers. 

This, by-the-bye, is a tempting article to young wives in thehumbler ranks of life, who have a first-floor front to furnish--they are lost in admiration, and hardly know which to admire most. The dog is very beautiful, but they have a dog already on the besttea-tray, and two more on the mantel-piece. Then, there issomething so genteel about that mail-coach; and the passengersoutside (who are all hat) give it such an air of reality!

The goods here are adapted to the taste, or rather to the means, ofcheap purchasers. There are some of the most beautiful LOOKINGPembroke tables that were ever beheld: the wood as green as thetrees in the Park, and the leaves almost as certain to fall off inthe course of a year. There is also a most extensive assortment oftent and turn-up bedsteads, made of stained wood, and innumerablespecimens of that base imposition on society--a sofa bedstead. 

A turn-up bedstead is a blunt, honest piece of furniture; it may beslightly disguised with a sham drawer; and sometimes a mad attemptis even made to pass it off for a book-case; ornament it as youwill, however, the turn-up bedstead seems to defy disguise, and toinsist on having it distinctly understood that he is a turn-upbedstead, and nothing else--that he is indispensably necessary, andthat being so useful, he disdains to be ornamental. 

How different is the demeanour of a sofa bedstead! Ashamed of itsreal use, it strives to appear an article of luxury and gentility--an attempt in which it miserably fails. It has neither therespectability of a sofa, nor the virtues of a bed; every man whokeeps a sofa bedstead in his house, becomes a party to a wilful anddesigning fraud--we question whether you could insult him more, than by insinuating that you entertain the least suspicion of itsreal use. 

To return from this digression, we beg to say, that neither ofthese classes of brokers' shops, forms the subject of this sketch. The shops to which we advert, are immeasurably inferior to those onwhose outward appearance we have slightly touched. Our readersmust often have observed in some by-street, in a poorneighbourhood, a small dirty shop, exposing for sale the mostextraordinary and confused jumble of old, worn-out, wretchedarticles, that can well be imagined. Our wonder at their everhaving been bought, is only to be equalled by our astonishment atthe idea of their ever being sold again. On a board, at the sideof the door, are placed about twenty books--all odd volumes; and asmany wine-glasses--all different patterns; several locks, an oldearthenware pan, full of rusty keys; two or three gaudy chimney-ornaments--cracked, of course; the remains of a lustre, without anydrops; a round frame like a capital O, which has once held amirror; a flute, complete with the exception of the middle joint; apair of curling-irons; and a tinder-box. In front of the shop-window, are ranged some half-dozen high-backed chairs, with spinalcomplaints and wasted legs; a corner cupboard; two or three verydark mahogany tables with flaps like mathematical problems; somepickle-jars, some surgeons' ditto, with gilt labels and withoutstoppers; an unframed portrait of some lady who flourished aboutthe beginning of the thirteenth century, by an artist who neverflourished at all; an incalculable host of miscellanies of everydescription, including bottles and cabinets, rags and bones, fenders and street-door knockers, fire-irons, wearing apparel andbedding, a hall-lamp, and a room-door. Imagine, in addition tothis incongruous mass, a black doll in a white frock, with twofaces--one looking up the street, and the other looking down, swinging over the door; a board with the squeezed-up inscription'Dealer in marine stores, ' in lanky white letters, whose height isstrangely out of proportion to their width; and you have before youprecisely the kind of shop to which we wish to direct yourattention. 

Although the same heterogeneous mixture of things will be found atall these places, it is curious to observe how truly and accuratelysome of the minor articles which are exposed for sale--articles ofwearing apparel, for instance--mark the character of theneighbourhood. Take Drury-Lane and Covent-garden for example. 

This is essentially a theatrical neighbourhood. There is not apotboy in the vicinity who is not, to a greater or less extent, adramatic character. The errand-boys and chandler's-shop-keepers'sons, are all stage-struck: they 'gets up' plays in back kitchenshired for the purpose, and will stand before a shop-window forhours, contemplating a great staring portrait of Mr. Somebody orother, of the Royal Coburg Theatre, 'as he appeared in thecharacter of Tongo the Denounced. ' The consequence is, that thereis not a marine-store shop in the neighbourhood, which does notexhibit for sale some faded articles of dramatic finery, such asthree or four pairs of soiled buff boots with turn-over red tops, heretofore worn by a 'fourth robber, ' or 'fifth mob;' a pair ofrusty broadswords, a few gauntlets, and certain resplendentornaments, which, if they were yellow instead of white, might betaken for insurance plates of the Sun Fire-office. There areseveral of these shops in the narrow streets and dirty courts, ofwhich there are so many near the national theatres, and they allhave tempting goods of this description, with the addition, perhaps, of a lady's pink dress covered with spangles; whitewreaths, stage shoes, and a tiara like a tin lamp reflector. Theyhave been purchased of some wretched supernumeraries, or sixth-rateactors, and are now offered for the benefit of the risinggeneration, who, on condition of making certain weekly payments, amounting in the whole to about ten times their value, may availthemselves of such desirable bargains. 

Let us take a very different quarter, and apply it to the sametest. Look at a marine-store dealer's, in that reservoir of dirt, drunkenness, and drabs: thieves, oysters, baked potatoes, andpickled salmon--Ratcliff-highway. Here, the wearing apparel is allnautical. Rough blue jackets, with mother-of-pearl buttons, oil-skin hats, coarse checked shirts, and large canvas trousers thatlook as if they were made for a pair of bodies instead of a pair oflegs, are the staple commodities. Then, there are large bunches ofcotton pocket-handkerchiefs, in colour and pattern unlike any oneever saw before, with the exception of those on the backs of thethree young ladies without bonnets who passed just now. Thefurniture is much the same as elsewhere, with the addition of oneor two models of ships, and some old prints of naval engagements instill older frames. In the window, are a few compasses, a smalltray containing silver watches in clumsy thick cases; and tobacco-boxes, the lid of each ornamented with a ship, or an anchor, orsome such trophy. A sailor generally pawns or sells all he hasbefore he has been long ashore, and if he does not, some favouredcompanion kindly saves him the trouble. In either case, it is aneven chance that he afterwards unconsciously repurchases the samethings at a higher price than he gave for them at first. 

Again: pay a visit with a similar object, to a part of London, asunlike both of these as they are to each other. Cross over to theSurrey side, and look at such shops of this description as are tobe found near the King's Bench prison, and in 'the Rules. ' Howdifferent, and how strikingly illustrative of the decay of some ofthe unfortunate residents in this part of the metropolis!Imprisonment and neglect have done their work. There iscontamination in the profligate denizens of a debtor's prison; oldfriends have fallen off; the recollection of former prosperity haspassed away; and with it all thoughts for the past, all care forthe future. First, watches and rings, then cloaks, coats, and allthe more expensive articles of dress, have found their way to thepawnbroker's. That miserable resource has failed at last, and thesale of some trifling article at one of these shops, has been theonly mode left of raising a shilling or two, to meet the urgentdemands of the moment. Dressing-cases and writing-desks, too oldto pawn but too good to keep; guns, fishing-rods, musicalinstruments, all in the same condition; have first been sold, andthe sacrifice has been but slightly felt. But hunger must beallayed, and what has already become a habit, is easily resortedto, when an emergency arises. Light articles of clothing, first ofthe ruined man, then of his wife, at last of their children, evenof the youngest, have been parted with, piecemeal. There they are, thrown carelessly together until a purchaser presents himself, old, and patched and repaired, it is true; but the make and materialstell of better days; and the older they are, the greater the miseryand destitution of those whom they once adorned. 

CHAPTER XXII--GIN-SHOPS

It is a remarkable circumstance, that different trades appear topartake of the disease to which elephants and dogs are especiallyliable, and to run stark, staring, raving mad, periodically. Thegreat distinction between the animals and the trades, is, that theformer run mad with a certain degree of propriety--they are veryregular in their irregularities. We know the period at which theemergency will arise, and provide against it accordingly. If anelephant run mad, we are all ready for him--kill or cure--pills orbullets, calomel in conserve of roses, or lead in a musket-barrel. If a dog happen to look unpleasantly warm in the summer months, andto trot about the shady side of the streets with a quarter of ayard of tongue hanging out of his mouth, a thick leather muzzle, which has been previously prepared in compliance with thethoughtful injunctions of the Legislature, is instantly clappedover his head, by way of making him cooler, and he either looksremarkably unhappy for the next six weeks, or becomes legallyinsane, and goes mad, as it were, by Act of Parliament. But thesetrades are as eccentric as comets; nay, worse, for no one cancalculate on the recurrence of the strange appearances whichbetoken the disease. Moreover, the contagion is general, and thequickness with which it diffuses itself, almost incredible. 

We will cite two or three cases in illustration of our meaning. Six or eight years ago, the epidemic began to display itself amongthe linen-drapers and haberdashers. The primary symptoms were aninordinate love of plate-glass, and a passion for gas-lights andgilding. The disease gradually progressed, and at last attained afearful height. Quiet, dusty old shops in different parts of town, were pulled down; spacious premises with stuccoed fronts and goldletters, were erected instead; floors were covered with Turkeycarpets; roofs supported by massive pillars; doors knocked intowindows; a dozen squares of glass into one; one shopman into adozen; and there is no knowing what would have been done, if it hadnot been fortunately discovered, just in time, that theCommissioners of Bankruptcy were as competent to decide such casesas the Commissioners of Lunacy, and that a little confinement andgentle examination did wonders. The disease abated. It died away. A year or two of comparative tranquillity ensued. Suddenly itburst out again amongst the chemists; the symptoms were the same, with the addition of a strong desire to stick the royal arms overthe shop-door, and a great rage for mahogany, varnish, andexpensive floor-cloth. Then, the hosiers were infected, and beganto pull down their shop-fronts with frantic recklessness. Themania again died away, and the public began to congratulatethemselves on its entire disappearance, when it burst forth withtenfold violence among the publicans, and keepers of 'wine vaults. 'From that moment it has spread among them with unprecedentedrapidity, exhibiting a concatenation of all the previous symptoms;onward it has rushed to every part of town, knocking down all theold public-houses, and depositing splendid mansions, stonebalustrades, rosewood fittings, immense lamps, and illuminatedclocks, at the corner of every street. 

The extensive scale on which these places are established, and theostentatious manner in which the business of even the smallestamong them is divided into branches, is amusing. A handsome plateof ground glass in one door directs you 'To the Counting-house;'another to the 'Bottle Department; a third to the 'WholesaleDepartment;' a fourth to 'The Wine Promenade;' and so forth, untilwe are in daily expectation of meeting with a 'Brandy Bell, ' or a'Whiskey Entrance. ' Then, ingenuity is exhausted in devisingattractive titles for the different descriptions of gin; and thedram-drinking portion of the community as they gaze upon thegigantic black and white announcements, which are only to beequalled in size by the figures beneath them, are left in a stateof pleasing hesitation between 'The Cream of the Valley, ' 'The Outand Out, ' 'The No Mistake, ' 'The Good for Mixing, ' 'The real Knock-me-down, ' 'The celebrated Butter Gin, ' 'The regular Flare-up, ' anda dozen other, equally inviting and wholesome LIQUEURS. Althoughplaces of this description are to be met with in every secondstreet, they are invariably numerous and splendid in preciseproportion to the dirt and poverty of the surroundingneighbourhood. The gin-shops in and near Drury-Lane, Holborn, St. Giles's, Covent-garden, and Clare-market, are the handsomest inLondon. There is more of filth and squalid misery near those greatthorough-fares than in any part of this mighty city. 

We will endeavour to sketch the bar of a large gin-shop, and itsordinary customers, for the edification of such of our readers asmay not have had opportunities of observing such scenes; and on thechance of finding one well suited to our purpose, we will make forDrury-Lane, through the narrow streets and dirty courts whichdivide it from Oxford-street, and that classical spot adjoining thebrewery at the bottom of Tottenham-court-road, best known to theinitiated as the 'Rookery. '

The filthy and miserable appearance of this part of London canhardly be imagined by those (and there are many such) who have notwitnessed it. Wretched houses with broken windows patched withrags and paper: every room let out to a different family, and inmany instances to two or even three--fruit and 'sweet-stuff'manufacturers in the cellars, barbers and red-herring vendors inthe front parlours, cobblers in the back; a bird-fancier in thefirst floor, three families on the second, starvation in theattics, Irishmen in the passage, a 'musician' in the front kitchen, and a charwoman and five hungry children in the back one--filtheverywhere--a gutter before the houses and a drain behind--clothesdrying and slops emptying, from the windows; girls of fourteen orfifteen, with matted hair, walking about barefoot, and in whitegreat-coats, almost their only covering; boys of all ages, in coatsof all sizes and no coats at all; men and women, in every varietyof scanty and dirty apparel, lounging, scolding, drinking, smoking, squabbling, fighting, and swearing. 

You turn the corner. What a change! All is light and brilliancy. The hum of many voices issues from that splendid gin-shop whichforms the commencement of the two streets opposite; and the gaybuilding with the fantastically ornamented parapet, the illuminatedclock, the plate-glass windows surrounded by stucco rosettes, andits profusion of gas-lights in richly-gilt burners, is perfectlydazzling when contrasted with the darkness and dirt we have justleft. The interior is even gayer than the exterior. A bar ofFrench-polished mahogany, elegantly carved, extends the whole widthof the place; and there are two side-aisles of great casks, paintedgreen and gold, enclosed within a light brass rail, and bearingsuch inscriptions, as 'Old Tom, 549;' 'Young Tom, 360;' 'Samson, 1421'--the figures agreeing, we presume, with 'gallons, 'understood. Beyond the bar is a lofty and spacious saloon, full ofthe same enticing vessels, with a gallery running round it, equallywell furnished. On the counter, in addition to the usual spiritapparatus, are two or three little baskets of cakes and biscuits, which are carefully secured at top with wicker-work, to preventtheir contents being unlawfully abstracted. Behind it, are twoshowily-dressed damsels with large necklaces, dispensing thespirits and 'compounds. ' They are assisted by the ostensibleproprietor of the concern, a stout, coarse fellow in a fur cap, puton very much on one side to give him a knowing air, and to displayhis sandy whiskers to the best advantage. 

The two old washerwomen, who are seated on the little bench to theleft of the bar, are rather overcome by the head-dresses andhaughty demeanour of the young ladies who officiate. They receivetheir half-quartern of gin and peppermint, with considerabledeference, prefacing a request for 'one of them soft biscuits, 'with a 'Jist be good enough, ma'am. ' They are quite astonished atthe impudent air of the young fellow in a brown coat and brightbuttons, who, ushering in his two companions, and walking up to thebar in as careless a manner as if he had been used to green andgold ornaments all his life, winks at one of the young ladies withsingular coolness, and calls for a 'kervorten and a three-out-glass, ' just as if the place were his own. 'Gin for you, sir?'says the young lady when she has drawn it: carefully looking everyway but the right one, to show that the wink had no effect uponher. 'For me, Mary, my dear, ' replies the gentleman in brown. 'Myname an't Mary as it happens, ' says the young girl, rather relaxingas she delivers the change. 'Well, if it an't, it ought to be, 'responds the irresistible one; 'all the Marys as ever _I_ see, washandsome gals. ' Here the young lady, not precisely remembering howblushes are managed in such cases, abruptly ends the flirtation byaddressing the female in the faded feathers who has just entered, and who, after stating explicitly, to prevent any subsequentmisunderstanding, that 'this gentleman pays, ' calls for 'a glass ofport wine and a bit of sugar. '

Those two old men who came in 'just to have a drain, ' finishedtheir third quartern a few seconds ago; they have made themselvescrying drunk; and the fat comfortable-looking elderly women, whohad 'a glass of rum-srub' each, having chimed in with theircomplaints on the hardness of the times, one of the women hasagreed to stand a glass round, jocularly observing that 'griefnever mended no broken bones, and as good people's wery scarce, what I says is, make the most on 'em, and that's all about it!' asentiment which appears to afford unlimited satisfaction to thosewho have nothing to pay. 

It is growing late, and the throng of men, women, and children, whohave been constantly going in and out, dwindles down to two orthree occasional stragglers--cold, wretched-looking creatures, inthe last stage of emaciation and disease. The knot of Irishlabourers at the lower end of the place, who have been alternatelyshaking hands with, and threatening the life of each other, for thelast hour, become furious in their disputes, and finding itimpossible to silence one man, who is particularly anxious toadjust the difference, they resort to the expedient of knocking himdown and jumping on him afterwards. The man in the fur cap, andthe potboy rush out; a scene of riot and confusion ensues; half theIrishmen get shut out, and the other half get shut in; the potboyis knocked among the tubs in no time; the landlord hits everybody, and everybody hits the landlord; the barmaids scream; the policecome in; the rest is a confused mixture of arms, legs, staves, torncoats, shouting, and struggling. Some of the party are borne offto the station-house, and the remainder slink home to beat theirwives for complaining, and kick the children for daring to behungry. 

We have sketched this subject very slightly, not only because ourlimits compel us to do so, but because, if it were pursued farther, it would be painful and repulsive. Well-disposed gentlemen, andcharitable ladies, would alike turn with coldness and disgust froma description of the drunken besotted men, and wretched broken-downmiserable women, who form no inconsiderable portion of thefrequenters of these haunts; forgetting, in the pleasantconsciousness of their own rectitude, the poverty of the one, andthe temptation of the other. Gin-drinking is a great vice inEngland, but wretchedness and dirt are a greater; and until youimprove the homes of the poor, or persuade a half-famished wretchnot to seek relief in the temporary oblivion of his own misery, with the pittance which, divided among his family, would furnish amorsel of bread for each, gin-shops will increase in number andsplendour. If Temperance Societies would suggest an antidoteagainst hunger, filth, and foul air, or could establishdispensaries for the gratuitous distribution of bottles of Lethe-water, gin-palaces would be numbered among the things that were. 

CHAPTER XXIII--THE PAWNBROKER'S SHOP

Of the numerous receptacles for misery and distress with which thestreets of London unhappily abound, there are, perhaps, none whichpresent such striking scenes as the pawnbrokers' shops. The verynature and description of these places occasions their being butlittle known, except to the unfortunate beings whose profligacy ormisfortune drives them to seek the temporary relief they offer. The subject may appear, at first sight, to be anything but aninviting one, but we venture on it nevertheless, in the hope that, as far as the limits of our present paper are concerned, it willpresent nothing to disgust even the most fastidious reader. 

There are some pawnbrokers' shops of a very superior description. There are grades in pawning as in everything else, and distinctionsmust be observed even in poverty. The aristocratic Spanish cloakand the plebeian calico shirt, the silver fork and the flat iron, the muslin cravat and the Belcher neckerchief, would but ill assorttogether; so, the better sort of pawnbroker calls himself a silver-smith, and decorates his shop with handsome trinkets and expensivejewellery, while the more humble money-lender boldly advertises hiscalling, and invites observation. It is with pawnbrokers' shops ofthe latter class, that we have to do. We have selected one for ourpurpose, and will endeavour to describe it. 

The pawnbroker's shop is situated near Drury-Lane, at the corner ofa court, which affords a side entrance for the accommodation ofsuch customers as may be desirous of avoiding the observation ofthe passers-by, or the chance of recognition in the public street. It is a low, dirty-looking, dusty shop, the door of which standsalways doubtfully, a little way open: half inviting, halfrepelling the hesitating visitor, who, if he be as yet uninitiated, examines one of the old garnet brooches in the window for a minuteor two with affected eagerness, as if he contemplated making apurchase; and then looking cautiously round to ascertain that noone watches him, hastily slinks in: the door closing of itselfafter him, to just its former width. The shop front and thewindow-frames bear evident marks of having been once painted; but, what the colour was originally, or at what date it was probablylaid on, are at this remote period questions which may be asked, but cannot be answered. Tradition states that the transparency inthe front door, which displays at night three red balls on a blueground, once bore also, inscribed in graceful waves, the words'Money advanced on plate, jewels, wearing apparel, and everydescription of property, ' but a few illegible hieroglyphics are allthat now remain to attest the fact. The plate and jewels wouldseem to have disappeared, together with the announcement, for thearticles of stock, which are displayed in some profusion in thewindow, do not include any very valuable luxuries of either kind. A few old china cups; some modern vases, adorned with paltrypaintings of three Spanish cavaliers playing three Spanish guitars;or a party of boors carousing: each boor with one leg painfullyelevated in the air, by way of expressing his perfect freedom andgaiety; several sets of chessmen, two or three flutes, a fewfiddles, a round-eyed portrait staring in astonishment from a verydark ground; some gaudily-bound prayer-books and testaments, tworows of silver watches quite as clumsy and almost as large asFerguson's first; numerous old-fashioned table and tea spoons, displayed, fan-like, in half-dozens; strings of coral with greatbroad gilt snaps; cards of rings and brooches, fastened andlabelled separately, like the insects in the British Museum; cheapsilver penholders and snuff-boxes, with a masonic star, completethe jewellery department; while five or six beds in smeary cloudedticks, strings of blankets and sheets, silk and cottonhandkerchiefs, and wearing apparel of every description, form themore useful, though even less ornamental, part, of the articlesexposed for sale. An extensive collection of planes, chisels, saws, and other carpenters' tools, which have been pledged, andnever redeemed, form the foreground of the picture; while the largeframes full of ticketed bundles, which are dimly seen through thedirty casement up-stairs--the squalid neighbourhood--the adjoininghouses, straggling, shrunken, and rotten, with one or two filthy, unwholesome-looking heads thrust out of every window, and old redpans and stunted plants exposed on the tottering parapets, to themanifest hazard of the heads of the passers-by--the noisy menloitering under the archway at the corner of the court, or aboutthe gin-shop next door--and their wives patiently standing on thecurb-stone, with large baskets of cheap vegetables slung round themfor sale, are its immediate auxiliaries. 

If the outside of the pawnbroker's shop be calculated to attractthe attention, or excite the interest, of the speculativepedestrian, its interior cannot fail to produce the same effect inan increased degree. The front door, which we have before noticed, opens into the common shop, which is the resort of all thosecustomers whose habitual acquaintance with such scenes renders themindifferent to the observation of their companions in poverty. Theside door opens into a small passage from which some half-dozendoors (which may be secured on the inside by bolts) open into acorresponding number of little dens, or closets, which face thecounter. Here, the more timid or respectable portion of the crowdshroud themselves from the notice of the remainder, and patientlywait until the gentleman behind the counter, with the curly blackhair, diamond ring, and double silver watch-guard, shall feeldisposed to favour them with his notice--a consummation whichdepends considerably on the temper of the aforesaid gentleman forthe time being. 

At the present moment, this elegantly-attired individual is in theact of entering the duplicate he has just made out, in a thickbook: a process from which he is diverted occasionally, by aconversation he is carrying on with another young man similarlyemployed at a little distance from him, whose allusions to 'thatlast bottle of soda-water last night, ' and 'how regularly round myhat he felt himself when the young 'ooman gave 'em in charge, 'would appear to refer to the consequences of some stolen jovialityof the preceding evening. The customers generally, however, seemunable to participate in the amusement derivable from this source, for an old sallow-looking woman, who has been leaning with botharms on the counter with a small bundle before her, for half anhour previously, suddenly interrupts the conversation by addressingthe jewelled shopman--'Now, Mr. Henry, do make haste, there's agood soul, for my two grandchildren's locked up at home, and I'mafeer'd of the fire. ' The shopman slightly raises his head, withan air of deep abstraction, and resumes his entry with as muchdeliberation as if he were engraving. 'You're in a hurry, Mrs. Tatham, this ev'nin', an't you?' is the only notice he deigns totake, after the lapse of five minutes or so. 'Yes, I am indeed, Mr. Henry; now, do serve me next, there's a good creetur. Iwouldn't worry you, only it's all along o' them botherin'children. ' 'What have you got here?' inquires the shopman, unpinning the bundle--'old concern, I suppose--pair o' stays and apetticut. You must look up somethin' else, old 'ooman; I can'tlend you anything more upon them; they're completely worn out bythis time, if it's only by putting in, and taking out again, threetimes a week. ' 'Oh! you're a rum un, you are, ' replies the oldwoman, laughing extremely, as in duty bound; 'I wish I'd got thegift of the gab like you; see if I'd be up the spout so often then!No, no; it an't the petticut; it's a child's frock and a beautifulsilk ankecher, as belongs to my husband. He gave four shillin' forit, the werry same blessed day as he broke his arm. '--'What do youwant upon these?' inquires Mr. Henry, slightly glancing at thearticles, which in all probability are old acquaintances. 'What doyou want upon these?'--'Eighteenpence. '--'Lend you ninepence. '--'Oh, make it a shillin'; there's a dear--do now?'--'Not anotherfarden. '--'Well, I suppose I must take it. ' The duplicate is madeout, one ticket pinned on the parcel, the other given to the oldwoman; the parcel is flung carelessly down into a corner, and someother customer prefers his claim to be served without furtherdelay. 

The choice falls on an unshaven, dirty, sottish-looking fellow, whose tarnished paper-cap, stuck negligently over one eye, communicates an additionally repulsive expression to his veryuninviting countenance. He was enjoying a little relaxation fromhis sedentary pursuits a quarter of an hour ago, in kicking hiswife up the court. He has come to redeem some tools:- probably tocomplete a job with, on account of which he has already receivedsome money, if his inflamed countenance and drunken staggers may betaken as evidence of the fact. Having waited some little time, hemakes his presence known by venting his ill-humour on a raggedurchin, who, being unable to bring his face on a level with thecounter by any other process, has employed himself in climbing up, and then hooking himself on with his elbows--an uneasy perch, fromwhich he has fallen at intervals, generally alighting on the toesof the person in his immediate vicinity. In the present case, theunfortunate little wretch has received a cuff which sends himreeling to this door; and the donor of the blow is immediately theobject of general indignation. 

'What do you strike the boy for, you brute?' exclaims a slipshodwoman, with two flat irons in a little basket. 'Do you think he'syour wife, you willin?' 'Go and hang yourself!' replies thegentleman addressed, with a drunken look of savage stupidity, aiming at the same time a blow at the woman which fortunatelymisses its object. 'Go and hang yourself; and wait till I come andcut you down. '--'Cut you down, ' rejoins the woman, 'I wish I hadthe cutting of you up, you wagabond! (loud. ) Oh! you preciouswagabond! (rather louder. ) Where's your wife, you willin? (louderstill; women of this class are always sympathetic, and workthemselves into a tremendous passion on the shortest notice. ) Yourpoor dear wife as you uses worser nor a dog--strike a woman--you aman! (very shrill;) I wish I had you--I'd murder you, I would, if Idied for it!'--'Now be civil, ' retorts the man fiercely. 'Becivil, you wiper!' ejaculates the woman contemptuously. 'An't itshocking?' she continues, turning round, and appealing to an oldwoman who is peeping out of one of the little closets we havebefore described, and who has not the slightest objection to joinin the attack, possessing, as she does, the comfortable convictionthat she is bolted in. 'Ain't it shocking, ma'am? (Dreadful! saysthe old woman in a parenthesis, not exactly knowing what thequestion refers to. ) He's got a wife, ma'am, as takes in mangling, and is as 'dustrious and hard-working a young 'ooman as can be, (very fast) as lives in the back parlour of our 'ous, which myhusband and me lives in the front one (with great rapidity)--and wehears him a beaten' on her sometimes when he comes home drunk, thewhole night through, and not only a beaten' her, but beaten' hisown child too, to make her more miserable--ugh, you beast! and she, poor creater, won't swear the peace agin him, nor do nothin', because she likes the wretch arter all--worse luck!' Here, as thewoman has completely run herself out of breath, the pawnbrokerhimself, who has just appeared behind the counter in a graydressing-gown, embraces the favourable opportunity of putting in aword:- 'Now I won't have none of this sort of thing on mypremises!' he interposes with an air of authority. 'Mrs. Mackin, keep yourself to yourself, or you don't get fourpence for a flatiron here; and Jinkins, you leave your ticket here till you'resober, and send your wife for them two planes, for I won't have youin my shop at no price; so make yourself scarce, before I make youscarcer. '

This eloquent address produces anything but the effect desired; thewomen rail in concert; the man hits about him in all directions, and is in the act of establishing an indisputable claim togratuitous lodgings for the night, when the entrance of his wife, awretched, worn-out woman, apparently in the last stage ofconsumption, whose face bears evident marks of recent ill-usage, and whose strength seems hardly equal to the burden--light enough, God knows!--of the thin, sickly child she carries in her arms, turns his cowardly rage in a safer direction. 'Come home, dear, 'cries the miserable creature, in an imploring tone; 'DO come home, there's a good fellow, and go to bed. '--'Go home yourself, ' rejoinsthe furious ruffian. 'Do come home quietly, ' repeats the wife, bursting into tears. 'Go home yourself, ' retorts the husbandagain, enforcing his argument by a blow which sends the poorcreature flying out of the shop. Her 'natural protector' followsher up the court, alternately venting his rage in accelerating herprogress, and in knocking the little scanty blue bonnet of theunfortunate child over its still more scanty and faded-lookingface. 

In the last box, which is situated in the darkest and most obscurecorner of the shop, considerably removed from either of the gas-lights, are a young delicate girl of about twenty, and an elderlyfemale, evidently her mother from the resemblance between them, whostand at some distance back, as if to avoid the observation even ofthe shopman. It is not their first visit to a pawnbroker's shop, for they answer without a moment's hesitation the usual questions, put in a rather respectful manner, and in a much lower tone thanusual, of 'What name shall I say?--Your own property, of course?--Where do you live?--Housekeeper or lodger?' They bargain, too, fora higher loan than the shopman is at first inclined to offer, whicha perfect stranger would be little disposed to do; and the elderfemale urges her daughter on, in scarcely audible whispers, toexert her utmost powers of persuasion to obtain an advance of thesum, and expatiate on the value of the articles they have broughtto raise a present supply upon. They are a small gold chain and a'Forget me not' ring: the girl's property, for they are both toosmall for the mother; given her in better times; prized, perhaps, once, for the giver's sake, but parted with now without a struggle;for want has hardened the mother, and her example has hardened thegirl, and the prospect of receiving money, coupled with arecollection of the misery they have both endured from the want ofit--the coldness of old friends--the stern refusal of some, and thestill more galling compassion of others--appears to haveobliterated the consciousness of self-humiliation, which the ideaof their present situation would once have aroused. 

In the next box, is a young female, whose attire, miserably poor, but extremely gaudy, wretchedly cold, but extravagantly fine, tooplainly bespeaks her station. The rich satin gown with its fadedtrimmings, the worn-out thin shoes, and pink silk stockings, thesummer bonnet in winter, and the sunken face, where a daub of rougeonly serves as an index to the ravages of squandered health neverto be regained, and lost happiness never to be restored, and wherethe practised smile is a wretched mockery of the misery of theheart, cannot be mistaken. There is something in the glimpse shehas just caught of her young neighbour, and in the sight of thelittle trinkets she has offered in pawn, that seems to haveawakened in this woman's mind some slumbering recollection, and tohave changed, for an instant, her whole demeanour. Her first hastyimpulse was to bend forward as if to scan more minutely theappearance of her half-concealed companions; her next, on seeingthem involuntarily shrink from her, to retreat to the back of thebox, cover her face with her hands, and burst into tears. 

There are strange chords in the human heart, which will lie dormantthrough years of depravity and wickedness, but which will vibrateat last to some slight circumstance apparently trivial in itself, but connected by some undefined and indistinct association, withpast days that can never be recalled, and with bitter recollectionsfrom which the most degraded creature in existence cannot escape. 

There has been another spectator, in the person of a woman in thecommon shop; the lowest of the low; dirty, unbonneted, flaunting, and slovenly. Her curiosity was at first attracted by the littleshe could see of the group; then her attention. The half-intoxicated leer changed to an expression of something likeinterest, and a feeling similar to that we have described, appearedfor a moment, and only a moment, to extend itself even to herbosom. 

Who shall say how soon these women may change places? The last hasbut two more stages--the hospital and the grave. How many femalessituated as her two companions are, and as she may have been once, have terminated the same wretched course, in the same wretchedmanner! One is already tracing her footsteps with frightfulrapidity. How soon may the other follow her example! How manyhave done the same!

CHAPTER XXIV--CRIMINAL COURTS

We shall never forget the mingled feelings of awe and respect withwhich we used to gaze on the exterior of Newgate in our schoolboydays. How dreadful its rough heavy walls, and low massive doors, appeared to us--the latter looking as if they were made for theexpress purpose of letting people in, and never letting them outagain. Then the fetters over the debtors' door, which we used tothink were a bona fide set of irons, just hung up there, forconvenience' sake, ready to be taken down at a moment's notice, andriveted on the limbs of some refractory felon! We were never tiredof wondering how the hackney-coachmen on the opposite stand couldcut jokes in the presence of such horrors, and drink pots of half-and-half so near the last drop. 

Often have we strayed here, in sessions time, to catch a glimpse ofthe whipping-place, and that dark building on one side of the yard, in which is kept the gibbet with all its dreadful apparatus, and onthe door of which we half expected to see a brass plate, with theinscription 'Mr. Ketch;' for we never imagined that thedistinguished functionary could by possibility live anywhere else!The days of these childish dreams have passed away, and with themmany other boyish ideas of a gayer nature. But we still retain somuch of our original feeling, that to this hour we never pass thebuilding without something like a shudder. 

What London pedestrian is there who has not, at some time or other, cast a hurried glance through the wicket at which prisoners areadmitted into this gloomy mansion, and surveyed the few objects hecould discern, with an indescribable feeling of curiosity? Thethick door, plated with iron and mounted with spikes, just lowenough to enable you to see, leaning over them, an ill-lookingfellow, in a broad-brimmed hat, Belcher handkerchief and top-boots:with a brown coat, something between a great-coat and a 'sporting'jacket, on his back, and an immense key in his left hand. Perhapsyou are lucky enough to pass, just as the gate is being opened;then, you see on the other side of the lodge, another gate, theimage of its predecessor, and two or three more turnkeys, who looklike multiplications of the first one, seated round a fire whichjust lights up the whitewashed apartment sufficiently to enable youto catch a hasty glimpse of these different objects. We have agreat respect for Mrs. Fry, but she certainly ought to have writtenmore romances than Mrs. Radcliffe. 

We were walking leisurely down the Old Bailey, some time ago, when, as we passed this identical gate, it was opened by the officiatingturnkey. We turned quickly round, as a matter of course, and sawtwo persons descending the steps. We could not help stopping andobserving them. 

They were an elderly woman, of decent appearance, though evidentlypoor, and a boy of about fourteen or fifteen. The woman was cryingbitterly; she carried a small bundle in her hand, and the boyfollowed at a short distance behind her. Their little history wasobvious. The boy was her son, to whose early comfort she hadperhaps sacrificed her own--for whose sake she had borne miserywithout repining, and poverty without a murmur--looking steadilyforward to the time, when he who had so long witnessed herstruggles for himself, might be enabled to make some exertions fortheir joint support. He had formed dissolute connexions; idlenesshad led to crime; and he had been committed to take his trial forsome petty theft. He had been long in prison, and, after receivingsome trifling additional punishment, had been ordered to bedischarged that morning. It was his first offence, and his poorold mother, still hoping to reclaim him, had been waiting at thegate to implore him to return home. 

We cannot forget the boy; he descended the steps with a doggedlook, shaking his head with an air of bravado and obstinatedetermination. They walked a few paces, and paused. The woman puther hand upon his shoulder in an agony of entreaty, and the boysullenly raised his head as if in refusal. It was a brilliantmorning, and every object looked fresh and happy in the broad, gaysunlight; he gazed round him for a few moments, bewildered with thebrightness of the scene, for it was long since he had beheldanything save the gloomy walls of a prison. Perhaps thewretchedness of his mother made some impression on the boy's heart;perhaps some undefined recollection of the time when he was a happychild, and she his only friend, and best companion, crowded on him--he burst into tears; and covering his face with one hand, andhurriedly placing the other in his mother's, walked away with her. 

Curiosity has occasionally led us into both Courts at the OldBailey. Nothing is so likely to strike the person who enters themfor the first time, as the calm indifference with which theproceedings are conducted; every trial seems a mere matter ofbusiness. There is a great deal of form, but no compassion;considerable interest, but no sympathy. Take the Old Court forexample. There sit the judges, with whose great dignity everybodyis acquainted, and of whom therefore we need say no more. Then, there is the Lord Mayor in the centre, looking as cool as a LordMayor CAN look, with an immense bouquet before him, and habited inall the splendour of his office. Then, there are the Sheriffs, whoare almost as dignified as the Lord Mayor himself; and theBarristers, who are quite dignified enough in their own opinion;and the spectators, who having paid for their admission, look uponthe whole scene as if it were got up especially for theiramusement. Look upon the whole group in the body of the Court--some wholly engrossed in the morning papers, others carelesslyconversing in low whispers, and others, again, quietly dozing awayan hour--and you can scarcely believe that the result of the trialis a matter of life or death to one wretched being present. Butturn your eyes to the dock; watch the prisoner attentively for afew moments; and the fact is before you, in all its painfulreality. Mark how restlessly he has been engaged for the last tenminutes, in forming all sorts of fantastic figures with the herbswhich are strewed upon the ledge before him; observe the ashypaleness of his face when a particular witness appears, and how hechanges his position and wipes his clammy forehead, and feverishhands, when the case for the prosecution is closed, as if it were arelief to him to feel that the jury knew the worst. 

The defence is concluded; the judge proceeds to sum up theevidence; and the prisoner watches the countenances of the jury, asa dying man, clinging to life to the very last, vainly looks in theface of his physician for a slight ray of hope. They turn round toconsult; you can almost hear the man's heart beat, as he bites thestalk of rosemary, with a desperate effort to appear composed. They resume their places--a dead silence prevails as the foremandelivers in the verdict--'Guilty!' A shriek bursts from a femalein the gallery; the prisoner casts one look at the quarter fromwhence the noise proceeded; and is immediately hurried from thedock by the gaoler. The clerk directs one of the officers of theCourt to 'take the woman out, ' and fresh business is proceededwith, as if nothing had occurred. 

No imaginary contrast to a case like this, could be as complete asthat which is constantly presented in the New Court, the gravity ofwhich is frequently disturbed in no small degree, by the cunningand pertinacity of juvenile offenders. A boy of thirteen is tried, say for picking the pocket of some subject of her Majesty, and theoffence is about as clearly proved as an offence can be. He iscalled upon for his defence, and contents himself with a littledeclamation about the jurymen and his country--asserts that all thewitnesses have committed perjury, and hints that the police forcegenerally have entered into a conspiracy 'again' him. Howeverprobable this statement may be, it fails to convince the Court, andsome such scene as the following then takes place:

Court: Have you any witnesses to speak to your character, boy?

Boy: Yes, my Lord; fifteen gen'lm'n is a vaten outside, and vos avaten all day yesterday, vich they told me the night afore my trialvos a comin' on. 

Court. Inquire for these witnesses. 

Here, a stout beadle runs out, and vociferates for the witnesses atthe very top of his voice; for you hear his cry grow fainter andfainter as he descends the steps into the court-yard below. Afteran absence of five minutes, he returns, very warm and hoarse, andinforms the Court of what it knew perfectly well before--namely, that there are no such witnesses in attendance. Hereupon, the boysets up a most awful howling; screws the lower part of the palms ofhis hands into the corners of his eyes; and endeavours to look thepicture of injured innocence. The jury at once find him 'guilty, 'and his endeavours to squeeze out a tear or two are redoubled. Thegovernor of the gaol then states, in reply to an inquiry from thebench, that the prisoner has been under his care twice before. This the urchin resolutely denies in some such terms as--'S'elp me, gen'lm'n, I never vos in trouble afore--indeed, my Lord, I nevervos. It's all a howen to my having a twin brother, vich haswrongfully got into trouble, and vich is so exactly like me, thatno vun ever knows the difference atween us. '

This representation, like the defence, fails in producing thedesired effect, and the boy is sentenced, perhaps, to seven years'transportation. Finding it impossible to excite compassion, hegives vent to his feelings in an imprecation bearing reference tothe eyes of 'old big vig!' and as he declines to take the troubleof walking from the dock, is forthwith carried out, congratulatinghimself on having succeeded in giving everybody as much trouble aspossible. 

CHAPTER XXV--A VISIT TO NEWGATE

'The force of habit' is a trite phrase in everybody's mouth; and itis not a little remarkable that those who use it most as applied toothers, unconsciously afford in their own persons singular examplesof the power which habit and custom exercise over the minds of men, and of the little reflection they are apt to bestow on subjectswith which every day's experience has rendered them familiar. IfBedlam could be suddenly removed like another Aladdin's palace, andset down on the space now occupied by Newgate, scarcely one man outof a hundred, whose road to business every morning lies throughNewgate-street, or the Old Bailey, would pass the building withoutbestowing a hasty glance on its small, grated windows, and atransient thought upon the condition of the unhappy beings immuredin its dismal cells; and yet these same men, day by day, and hourby hour, pass and repass this gloomy depository of the guilt andmisery of London, in one perpetual stream of life and bustle, utterly unmindful of the throng of wretched creatures pent upwithin it--nay, not even knowing, or if they do, not heeding, thefact, that as they pass one particular angle of the massive wallwith a light laugh or a merry whistle, they stand within one yardof a fellow-creature, bound and helpless, whose hours are numbered, from whom the last feeble ray of hope has fled for ever, and whosemiserable career will shortly terminate in a violent and shamefuldeath. Contact with death even in its least terrible shape, issolemn and appalling. How much more awful is it to reflect on thisnear vicinity to the dying--to men in full health and vigour, inthe flower of youth or the prime of life, with all their facultiesand perceptions as acute and perfect as your own; but dying, nevertheless--dying as surely--with the hand of death imprintedupon them as indelibly--as if mortal disease had wasted theirframes to shadows, and corruption had already begun!

It was with some such thoughts as these that we determined, notmany weeks since, to visit the interior of Newgate--in an amateurcapacity, of course; and, having carried our intention into effect, we proceed to lay its results before our readers, in the hope--founded more upon the nature of the subject, than on anypresumptuous confidence in our own descriptive powers--that thispaper may not be found wholly devoid of interest. We have only topremise, that we do not intend to fatigue the reader with anystatistical accounts of the prison; they will be found at length innumerous reports of numerous committees, and a variety ofauthorities of equal weight. We took no notes, made no memoranda, measured none of the yards, ascertained the exact number of inchesin no particular room: are unable even to report of how manyapartments the gaol is composed. 

We saw the prison, and saw the prisoners; and what we did see, andwhat we thought, we will tell at once in our own way. 

Having delivered our credentials to the servant who answered ourknock at the door of the governor's house, we were ushered into the'office;' a little room, on the right-hand side as you enter, withtwo windows looking into the Old Bailey: fitted up like anordinary attorney's office, or merchant's counting-house, with theusual fixtures--a wainscoted partition, a shelf or two, a desk, acouple of stools, a pair of clerks, an almanack, a clock, and a fewmaps. After a little delay, occasioned by sending into theinterior of the prison for the officer whose duty it was to conductus, that functionary arrived; a respectable-looking man of abouttwo or three and fifty, in a broad-brimmed hat, and full suit ofblack, who, but for his keys, would have looked quite as much likea clergyman as a turnkey. We were disappointed; he had not eventop-boots on. Following our conductor by a door opposite to thatat which we had entered, we arrived at a small room, without anyother furniture than a little desk, with a book for visitors'autographs, and a shelf, on which were a few boxes for papers, andcasts of the heads and faces of the two notorious murderers, Bishopand Williams; the former, in particular, exhibiting a style of headand set of features, which might have afforded sufficient moralgrounds for his instant execution at any time, even had there beenno other evidence against him. Leaving this room also, by anopposite door, we found ourself in the lodge which opens on the OldBailey; one side of which is plentifully garnished with a choicecollection of heavy sets of irons, including those worn by theredoubtable Jack Sheppard--genuine; and those SAID to have beengraced by the sturdy limbs of the no less celebrated Dick Turpin--doubtful. From this lodge, a heavy oaken gate, bound with iron, studded with nails of the same material, and guarded by anotherturnkey, opens on a few steps, if we remember right, whichterminate in a narrow and dismal stone passage, running parallelwith the Old Bailey, and leading to the different yards, through anumber of tortuous and intricate windings, guarded in their turn byhuge gates and gratings, whose appearance is sufficient to dispelat once the slightest hope of escape that any new-comer may haveentertained; and the very recollection of which, on eventuallytraversing the place again, involves one in a maze of confusion. 

It is necessary to explain here, that the buildings in the prison, or in other words the different wards--form a square, of which thefour sides abut respectively on the Old Bailey, the old College ofPhysicians (now forming a part of Newgate-market), the Sessions-house, and Newgate-street. The intermediate space is divided intoseveral paved yards, in which the prisoners take such air andexercise as can be had in such a place. These yards, with theexception of that in which prisoners under sentence of death areconfined (of which we shall presently give a more detaileddescription), run parallel with Newgate-street, and consequentlyfrom the Old Bailey, as it were, to Newgate-market. The women'sside is in the right wing of the prison nearest the Sessions-house. As we were introduced into this part of the building first, we willadopt the same order, and introduce our readers to it also. 

Turning to the right, then, down the passage to which we just nowadverted, omitting any mention of intervening gates--for if wenoticed every gate that was unlocked for us to pass through, andlocked again as soon as we had passed, we should require a gate atevery comma--we came to a door composed of thick bars of wood, through which were discernible, passing to and fro in a narrowyard, some twenty women: the majority of whom, however, as soon asthey were aware of the presence of strangers, retreated to theirwards. One side of this yard is railed off at a considerabledistance, and formed into a kind of iron cage, about five feet teninches in height, roofed at the top, and defended in front by ironbars, from which the friends of the female prisoners communicatewith them. In one corner of this singular-looking den, was ayellow, haggard, decrepit old woman, in a tattered gown that hadonce been black, and the remains of an old straw bonnet, with fadedribbon of the same hue, in earnest conversation with a young girl--a prisoner, of course--of about two-and-twenty. It is impossibleto imagine a more poverty-stricken object, or a creature so bornedown in soul and body, by excess of misery and destitution, as theold woman. The girl was a good-looking, robust female, with aprofusion of hair streaming about in the wind--for she had nobonnet on--and a man's silk pocket-handkerchief loosely thrown overa most ample pair of shoulders. The old woman was talking in thatlow, stifled tone of voice which tells so forcibly of mentalanguish; and every now and then burst into an irrepressible sharp, abrupt cry of grief, the most distressing sound that ears can hear. The girl was perfectly unmoved. Hardened beyond all hope ofredemption, she listened doggedly to her mother's entreaties, whatever they were: and, beyond inquiring after 'Jem, ' and eagerlycatching at the few halfpence her miserable parent had brought her, took no more apparent interest in the conversation than the mostunconcerned spectators. Heaven knows there were enough of them, inthe persons of the other prisoners in the yard, who were no moreconcerned by what was passing before their eyes, and within theirhearing, than if they were blind and deaf. Why should they be?Inside the prison, and out, such scenes were too familiar to them, to excite even a passing thought, unless of ridicule or contemptfor feelings which they had long since forgotten. 

A little farther on, a squalid-looking woman in a slovenly, thick-bordered cap, with her arms muffled in a large red shawl, thefringed ends of which straggled nearly to the bottom of a dirtywhite apron, was communicating some instructions to HER visitor--her daughter evidently. The girl was thinly clad, and shaking withthe cold. Some ordinary word of recognition passed between her andher mother when she appeared at the grating, but neither hope, condolence, regret, nor affection was expressed on either side. The mother whispered her instructions, and the girl received themwith her pinched-up, half-starved features twisted into anexpression of careful cunning. It was some scheme for the woman'sdefence that she was disclosing, perhaps; and a sullen smile cameover the girl's face for an instant, as if she were pleased: notso much at the probability of her mother's liberation, as at thechance of her 'getting off' in spite of her prosecutors. Thedialogue was soon concluded; and with the same carelessindifference with which they had approached each other, the motherturned towards the inner end of the yard, and the girl to the gateat which she had entered. 

The girl belonged to a class--unhappily but too extensive--the veryexistence of which, should make men's hearts bleed. Barely pasther childhood, it required but a glance to discover that she wasone of those children, born and bred in neglect and vice, who havenever known what childhood is: who have never been taught to loveand court a parent's smile, or to dread a parent's frown. Thethousand nameless endearments of childhood, its gaiety and itsinnocence, are alike unknown to them. They have entered at onceupon the stern realities and miseries of life, and to their betternature it is almost hopeless to appeal in after-times, by any ofthe references which will awaken, if it be only for a moment, somegood feeling in ordinary bosoms, however corrupt they may havebecome. Talk to THEM of parental solicitude, the happy days ofchildhood, and the merry games of infancy! Tell them of hunger andthe streets, beggary and stripes, the gin-shop, the station-house, and the pawnbroker's, and they will understand you. 

Two or three women were standing at different parts of the grating, conversing with their friends, but a very large proportion of theprisoners appeared to have no friends at all, beyond such of theirold companions as might happen to be within the walls. So, passinghastily down the yard, and pausing only for an instant to noticethe little incidents we have just recorded, we were conducted up aclean and well-lighted flight of stone stairs to one of the wards. There are several in this part of the building, but a descriptionof one is a description of the whole. 

It was a spacious, bare, whitewashed apartment, lighted, of course, by windows looking into the interior of the prison, but far morelight and airy than one could reasonably expect to find in such asituation. There was a large fire with a deal table before it, round which ten or a dozen women were seated on wooden forms atdinner. Along both sides of the room ran a shelf; below it, atregular intervals, a row of large hooks were fixed in the wall, oneach of which was hung the sleeping mat of a prisoner: her rug andblanket being folded up, and placed on the shelf above. At night, these mats are placed on the floor, each beneath the hook on whichit hangs during the day; and the ward is thus made to answer thepurposes both of a day-room and sleeping apartment. Over thefireplace, was a large sheet of pasteboard, on which were displayeda variety of texts from Scripture, which were also scattered aboutthe room in scraps about the size and shape of the copy-slips whichare used in schools. On the table was a sufficient provision of akind of stewed beef and brown bread, in pewter dishes, which arekept perfectly bright, and displayed on shelves in great order andregularity when they are not in use. 

The women rose hastily, on our entrance, and retired in a hurriedmanner to either side of the fireplace. They were all cleanly--many of them decently--attired, and there was nothing peculiar, either in their appearance or demeanour. One or two resumed theneedlework which they had probably laid aside at the commencementof their meal; others gazed at the visitors with listlesscuriosity; and a few retired behind their companions to the veryend of the room, as if desirous to avoid even the casualobservation of the strangers. Some old Irish women, both in thisand other wards, to whom the thing was no novelty, appearedperfectly indifferent to our presence, and remained standing closeto the seats from which they had just risen; but the generalfeeling among the females seemed to be one of uneasiness during theperiod of our stay among them: which was very brief. Not a wordwas uttered during the time of our remaining, unless, indeed, bythe wardswoman in reply to some question which we put to theturnkey who accompanied us. In every ward on the female side, awardswoman is appointed to preserve order, and a similar regulationis adopted among the males. The wardsmen and wardswomen are allprisoners, selected for good conduct. They alone are allowed theprivilege of sleeping on bedsteads; a small stump bedstead beingplaced in every ward for that purpose. On both sides of the gaol, is a small receiving-room, to which prisoners are conducted ontheir first reception, and whence they cannot be removed until theyhave been examined by the surgeon of the prison. {2}

Retracing our steps to the dismal passage in which we foundourselves at first (and which, by-the-bye, contains three or fourdark cells for the accommodation of refractory prisoners), we wereled through a narrow yard to the 'school'--a portion of the prisonset apart for boys under fourteen years of age. In a tolerable-sized room, in which were writing-materials and some copy-books, was the schoolmaster, with a couple of his pupils; the remainderhaving been fetched from an adjoining apartment, the whole weredrawn up in line for our inspection. There were fourteen of themin all, some with shoes, some without; some in pinafores withoutjackets, others in jackets without pinafores, and one in scarceanything at all. The whole number, without an exception webelieve, had been committed for trial on charges of pocket-picking;and fourteen such terrible little faces we never beheld. --There wasnot one redeeming feature among them--not a glance of honesty--nota wink expressive of anything but the gallows and the hulks, in thewhole collection. As to anything like shame or contrition, thatwas entirely out of the question. They were evidently quitegratified at being thought worth the trouble of looking at; theiridea appeared to be, that we had come to see Newgate as a grandaffair, and that they were an indispensable part of the show; andevery boy as he 'fell in' to the line, actually seemed as pleasedand important as if he had done something excessively meritoriousin getting there at all. We never looked upon a more disagreeablesight, because we never saw fourteen such hopeless creatures ofneglect, before. 

On either side of the school-yard is a yard for men, in one ofwhich--that towards Newgate-street--prisoners of the morerespectable class are confined. Of the other, we have littledescription to offer, as the different wards necessarily partake ofthe same character. They are provided, like the wards on thewomen's side, with mats and rugs, which are disposed of in the samemanner during the day; the only very striking difference betweentheir appearance and that of the wards inhabited by the females, isthe utter absence of any employment. Huddled together on twoopposite forms, by the fireside, sit twenty men perhaps; here, aboy in livery; there, a man in a rough great-coat and top-boots;farther on, a desperate-looking fellow in his shirt-sleeves, withan old Scotch cap upon his shaggy head; near him again, a tallruffian, in a smock-frock; next to him, a miserable being ofdistressed appearance, with his head resting on his hand;--allalike in one respect, all idle and listless. When they do leavethe fire, sauntering moodily about, lounging in the window, orleaning against the wall, vacantly swinging their bodies to andfro. With the exception of a man reading an old newspaper, in twoor three instances, this was the case in every ward we entered. 

The only communication these men have with their friends, isthrough two close iron gratings, with an intermediate space ofabout a yard in width between the two, so that nothing can behanded across, nor can the prisoner have any communication by touchwith the person who visits him. The married men have a separategrating, at which to see their wives, but its construction is thesame. 

The prison chapel is situated at the back of the governor's house:the latter having no windows looking into the interior of theprison. Whether the associations connected with the place--theknowledge that here a portion of the burial service is, on somedreadful occasions, performed over the quick and not upon the dead--cast over it a still more gloomy and sombre air than art hasimparted to it, we know not, but its appearance is very striking. There is something in a silent and deserted place of worship, solemn and impressive at any time; and the very dissimilarity ofthis one from any we have been accustomed to, only enhances theimpression. The meanness of its appointments--the bare and scantypulpit, with the paltry painted pillars on either side--the women'sgallery with its great heavy curtain--the men's with its unpaintedbenches and dingy front--the tottering little table at the altar, with the commandments on the wall above it, scarcely legiblethrough lack of paint, and dust and damp--so unlike the velvet andgilding, the marble and wood, of a modern church--are strange andstriking. There is one object, too, which rivets the attention andfascinates the gaze, and from which we may turn horror-stricken invain, for the recollection of it will haunt us, waking andsleeping, for a long time afterwards. Immediately below thereading-desk, on the floor of the chapel, and forming the mostconspicuous object in its little area, is THE CONDEMNED PEW; a hugeblack pen, in which the wretched people, who are singled out fordeath, are placed on the Sunday preceding their execution, in sightof all their fellow-prisoners, from many of whom they may have beenseparated but a week before, to hear prayers for their own souls, to join in the responses of their own burial service, and to listento an address, warning their recent companions to take example bytheir fate, and urging themselves, while there is yet time--nearlyfour-and-twenty hours--to 'turn, and flee from the wrath to come!'Imagine what have been the feelings of the men whom that fearfulpew has enclosed, and of whom, between the gallows and the knife, no mortal remnant may now remain! Think of the hopeless clingingto life to the last, and the wild despair, far exceeding in anguishthe felon's death itself, by which they have heard the certainty oftheir speedy transmission to another world, with all their crimesupon their heads, rung into their ears by the officiatingclergyman!

At one time--and at no distant period either--the coffins of themen about to be executed, were placed in that pew, upon the seat bytheir side, during the whole service. It may seem incredible, butit is true. Let us hope that the increased spirit of civilisationand humanity which abolished this frightful and degrading custom, may extend itself to other usages equally barbarous; usages whichhave not even the plea of utility in their defence, as every year'sexperience has shown them to be more and more inefficacious. 

Leaving the chapel, descending to the passage so frequently alludedto, and crossing the yard before noticed as being allotted toprisoners of a more respectable description than the generality ofmen confined here, the visitor arrives at a thick iron gate ofgreat size and strength. Having been admitted through it by theturnkey on duty, he turns sharp round to the left, and pausesbefore another gate; and, having passed this last barrier, hestands in the most terrible part of this gloomy building--thecondemned ward. 

The press-yard, well known by name to newspaper readers, from itsfrequent mention in accounts of executions, is at the corner of thebuilding, and next to the ordinary's house, in Newgate-street:running from Newgate-street, towards the centre of the prison, parallel with Newgate-market. It is a long, narrow court, of whicha portion of the wall in Newgate-street forms one end, and the gatethe other. At the upper end, on the left hand--that is, adjoiningthe wall in Newgate-street--is a cistern of water, and at thebottom a double grating (of which the gate itself forms a part)similar to that before described. Through these grates theprisoners are allowed to see their friends; a turnkey alwaysremaining in the vacant space between, during the whole interview. Immediately on the right as you enter, is a building containing thepress-room, day-room, and cells; the yard is on every sidesurrounded by lofty walls guarded by chevaux de frise; and thewhole is under the constant inspection of vigilant and experiencedturnkeys. 

In the first apartment into which we were conducted--which was atthe top of a staircase, and immediately over the press-room--werefive-and-twenty or thirty prisoners, all under sentence of death, awaiting the result of the recorder's report--men of all ages andappearances, from a hardened old offender with swarthy face andgrizzly beard of three days' growth, to a handsome boy, notfourteen years old, and of singularly youthful appearance even forthat age, who had been condemned for burglary. There was nothingremarkable in the appearance of these prisoners. One or twodecently-dressed men were brooding with a dejected air over thefire; several little groups of two or three had been engaged inconversation at the upper end of the room, or in the windows; andthe remainder were crowded round a young man seated at a table, whoappeared to be engaged in teaching the younger ones to write. Theroom was large, airy, and clean. There was very little anxiety ormental suffering depicted in the countenance of any of the men;--they had all been sentenced to death, it is true, and therecorder's report had not yet been made; but, we question whetherthere was a man among them, notwithstanding, who did not KNOW thatalthough he had undergone the ceremony, it never was intended thathis life should be sacrificed. On the table lay a Testament, butthere were no tokens of its having been in recent use. 

In the press-room below, were three men, the nature of whoseoffence rendered it necessary to separate them, even from theircompanions in guilt. It is a long, sombre room, with two windowssunk into the stone wall, and here the wretched men are pinioned onthe morning of their execution, before moving towards the scaffold. The fate of one of these prisoners was uncertain; some mitigatorycircumstances having come to light since his trial, which had beenhumanely represented in the proper quarter. The other two hadnothing to expect from the mercy of the crown; their doom wassealed; no plea could be urged in extenuation of their crime, andthey well knew that for them there was no hope in this world. 'Thetwo short ones, ' the turnkey whispered, 'were dead men. '

The man to whom we have alluded as entertaining some hopes ofescape, was lounging, at the greatest distance he could placebetween himself and his companions, in the window nearest to thedoor. He was probably aware of our approach, and had assumed anair of courageous indifference; his face was purposely avertedtowards the window, and he stirred not an inch while we werepresent. The other two men were at the upper end of the room. Oneof them, who was imperfectly seen in the dim light, had his backtowards us, and was stooping over the fire, with his right arm onthe mantel-piece, and his head sunk upon it. The other was leaningon the sill of the farthest window. The light fell full upon him, and communicated to his pale, haggard face, and disordered hair, anappearance which, at that distance, was ghastly. His cheek restedupon his hand; and, with his face a little raised, and his eyeswildly staring before him, he seemed to be unconsciously intent oncounting the chinks in the opposite wall. We passed this roomagain afterwards. The first man was pacing up and down the courtwith a firm military step--he had been a soldier in the foot-guards--and a cloth cap jauntily thrown on one side of his head. He bowed respectfully to our conductor, and the salute wasreturned. The other two still remained in the positions we havedescribed, and were as motionless as statues. {3}

A few paces up the yard, and forming a continuation of thebuilding, in which are the two rooms we have just quitted, lie thecondemned cells. The entrance is by a narrow and obscure stair-case leading to a dark passage, in which a charcoal stove casts alurid tint over the objects in its immediate vicinity, and diffusessomething like warmth around. From the left-hand side of thispassage, the massive door of every cell on the story opens; andfrom it alone can they be approached. There are three of thesepassages, and three of these ranges of cells, one above the other;but in size, furniture and appearance, they are all preciselyalike. Prior to the recorder's report being made, all theprisoners under sentence of death are removed from the day-room atfive o'clock in the afternoon, and locked up in these cells, wherethey are allowed a candle until ten o'clock; and here they remainuntil seven next morning. When the warrant for a prisoner'sexecution arrives, he is removed to the cells and confined in oneof them until he leaves it for the scaffold. He is at liberty towalk in the yard; but, both in his walks and in his cell, he isconstantly attended by a turnkey who never leaves him on anypretence. 

We entered the first cell. It was a stone dungeon, eight feet longby six wide, with a bench at the upper end, under which were acommon rug, a bible, and prayer-book. An iron candlestick wasfixed into the wall at the side; and a small high window in theback admitted as much air and light as could struggle in between adouble row of heavy, crossed iron bars. It contained no otherfurniture of any description. 

Conceive the situation of a man, spending his last night on earthin this cell. Buoyed up with some vague and undefined hope ofreprieve, he knew not why--indulging in some wild and visionaryidea of escaping, he knew not how--hour after hour of the threepreceding days allowed him for preparation, has fled with a speedwhich no man living would deem possible, for none but this dyingman can know. He has wearied his friends with entreaties, exhausted the attendants with importunities, neglected in hisfeverish restlessness the timely warnings of his spiritualconsoler; and, now that the illusion is at last dispelled, now thateternity is before him and guilt behind, now that his fears ofdeath amount almost to madness, and an overwhelming sense of hishelpless, hopeless state rushes upon him, he is lost and stupefied, and has neither thoughts to turn to, nor power to call upon, theAlmighty Being, from whom alone he can seek mercy and forgiveness, and before whom his repentance can alone avail. 

Hours have glided by, and still he sits upon the same stone benchwith folded arms, heedless alike of the fast decreasing time beforehim, and the urgent entreaties of the good man at his side. Thefeeble light is wasting gradually, and the deathlike stillness ofthe street without, broken only by the rumbling of some passingvehicle which echoes mournfully through the empty yards, warns himthat the night is waning fast away. The deep bell of St. Paul'sstrikes--one! He heard it; it has roused him. Seven hours left!He paces the narrow limits of his cell with rapid strides, colddrops of terror starting on his forehead, and every muscle of hisframe quivering with agony. Seven hours! He suffers himself to beled to his seat, mechanically takes the bible which is placed inhis hand, and tries to read and listen. No: his thoughts willwander. The book is torn and soiled by use--and like the book heread his lessons in, at school, just forty years ago! He has neverbestowed a thought upon it, perhaps, since he left it as a child:and yet the place, the time, the room--nay, the very boys he playedwith, crowd as vividly before him as if they were scenes ofyesterday; and some forgotten phrase, some childish word, rings inhis ears like the echo of one uttered but a minute since. Thevoice of the clergyman recalls him to himself. He is reading fromthe sacred book its solemn promises of pardon for repentance, andits awful denunciation of obdurate men. He falls upon his kneesand clasps his hands to pray. Hush! what sound was that? Hestarts upon his feet. It cannot be two yet. Hark! Two quartershave struck;--the third--the fourth. It is! Six hours left. Tellhim not of repentance! Six hours' repentance for eight times sixyears of guilt and sin! He buries his face in his hands, andthrows himself on the bench. 

Worn with watching and excitement, he sleeps, and the sameunsettled state of mind pursues him in his dreams. Aninsupportable load is taken from his breast; he is walking with hiswife in a pleasant field, with the bright sky above them, and afresh and boundless prospect on every side--how different from thestone walls of Newgate! She is looking--not as she did when he sawher for the last time in that dreadful place, but as she used whenhe loved her--long, long ago, before misery and ill-treatment hadaltered her looks, and vice had changed his nature, and she isleaning upon his arm, and looking up into his face with tendernessand affection--and he does NOT strike her now, nor rudely shake herfrom him. And oh! how glad he is to tell her all he had forgottenin that last hurried interview, and to fall on his knees before herand fervently beseech her pardon for all the unkindness and crueltythat wasted her form and broke her heart! The scene suddenlychanges. He is on his trial again: there are the judge and jury, and prosecutors, and witnesses, just as they were before. How fullthe court is--what a sea of heads--with a gallows, too, and ascaffold--and how all those people stare at HIM! Verdict, 'Guilty. ' No matter; he will escape. 

The night is dark and cold, the gates have been left open, and inan instant he is in the street, flying from the scene of hisimprisonment like the wind. The streets are cleared, the openfields are gained and the broad, wide country lies before him. Onward he dashes in the midst of darkness, over hedge and ditch, through mud and pool, bounding from spot to spot with a speed andlightness, astonishing even to himself. At length he pauses; hemust be safe from pursuit now; he will stretch himself on that bankand sleep till sunrise. 

A period of unconsciousness succeeds. He wakes, cold and wretched. The dull, gray light of morning is stealing into the cell, andfalls upon the form of the attendant turnkey. Confused by hisdreams, he starts from his uneasy bed in momentary uncertainty. Itis but momentary. Every object in the narrow cell is toofrightfully real to admit of doubt or mistake. He is the condemnedfelon again, guilty and despairing; and in two hours more will bedead. 

CHARACTERS

CHAPTER I--THOUGHTS ABOUT PEOPLE

It is strange with how little notice, good, bad, or indifferent, aman may live and die in London. He awakens no sympathy in thebreast of any single person; his existence is a matter of interestto no one save himself; he cannot be said to be forgotten when hedies, for no one remembered him when he was alive. There is anumerous class of people in this great metropolis who seem not topossess a single friend, and whom nobody appears to care for. Urged by imperative necessity in the first instance, they haveresorted to London in search of employment, and the means ofsubsistence. It is hard, we know, to break the ties which bind usto our homes and friends, and harder still to efface the thousandrecollections of happy days and old times, which have beenslumbering in our bosoms for years, and only rush upon the mind, tobring before it associations connected with the friends we haveleft, the scenes we have beheld too probably for the last time, andthe hopes we once cherished, but may entertain no more. These men, however, happily for themselves, have long forgotten such thoughts. Old country friends have died or emigrated; former correspondentshave become lost, like themselves, in the crowd and turmoil of somebusy city; and they have gradually settled down into mere passivecreatures of habit and endurance. 

We were seated in the enclosure of St. James's Park the other day, when our attention was attracted by a man whom we immediately putdown in our own mind as one of this class. He was a tall, thin, pale person, in a black coat, scanty gray trousers, little pinched-up gaiters, and brown beaver gloves. He had an umbrella in hishand--not for use, for the day was fine--but, evidently, because healways carried one to the office in the morning. He walked up anddown before the little patch of grass on which the chairs areplaced for hire, not as if he were doing it for pleasure orrecreation, but as if it were a matter of compulsion, just as hewould walk to the office every morning from the back settlements ofIslington. It was Monday; he had escaped for four-and-twenty hoursfrom the thraldom of the desk; and was walking here for exerciseand amusement--perhaps for the first time in his life. We wereinclined to think he had never had a holiday before, and that hedid not know what to do with himself. Children were playing on thegrass; groups of people were loitering about, chatting andlaughing; but the man walked steadily up and down, unheeding andunheeded his spare, pale face looking as if it were incapable ofbearing the expression of curiosity or interest. 

There was something in the man's manner and appearance which toldus, we fancied, his whole life, or rather his whole day, for a manof this sort has no variety of days. We thought we almost saw thedingy little back office into which he walks every morning, hanginghis hat on the same peg, and placing his legs beneath the samedesk: first, taking off that black coat which lasts the yearthrough, and putting on the one which did duty last year, and whichhe keeps in his desk to save the other. There he sits till fiveo'clock, working on, all day, as regularly as the dial over themantel-piece, whose loud ticking is as monotonous as his wholeexistence: only raising his head when some one enters thecounting-house, or when, in the midst of some difficultcalculation, he looks up to the ceiling as if there wereinspiration in the dusty skylight with a green knot in the centreof every pane of glass. About five, or half-past, he slowlydismounts from his accustomed stool, and again changing his coat, proceeds to his usual dining-place, somewhere near Bucklersbury. The waiter recites the bill of fare in a rather confidentialmanner--for he is a regular customer--and after inquiring 'What'sin the best cut?' and 'What was up last?' he orders a small plateof roast beef, with greens, and half-a-pint of porter. He has asmall plate to-day, because greens are a penny more than potatoes, and he had 'two breads' yesterday, with the additional enormity of'a cheese' the day before. This important point settled, he hangsup his hat--he took it off the moment he sat down--and bespeaks thepaper after the next gentleman. If he can get it while he is atdinner, he eats with much greater zest; balancing it against thewater-bottle, and eating a bit of beef, and reading a line or two, alternately. Exactly at five minutes before the hour is up, heproduces a shilling, pays the reckoning, carefully deposits thechange in his waistcoat-pocket (first deducting a penny for thewaiter), and returns to the office, from which, if it is notforeign post night, he again sallies forth, in about half an hour. He then walks home, at his usual pace, to his little back room atIslington, where he has his tea; perhaps solacing himself duringthe meal with the conversation of his landlady's little boy, whomhe occasionally rewards with a penny, for solving problems insimple addition. Sometimes, there is a letter or two to take up tohis employer's, in Russell-square; and then, the wealthy man ofbusiness, hearing his voice, calls out from the dining-parlour, --'Come in, Mr. Smith:' and Mr. Smith, putting his hat at the feet ofone of the hall chairs, walks timidly in, and being condescendinglydesired to sit down, carefully tucks his legs under his chair, andsits at a considerable distance from the table while he drinks theglass of sherry which is poured out for him by the eldest boy, andafter drinking which, he backs and slides out of the room, in astate of nervous agitation from which he does not perfectlyrecover, until he finds himself once more in the Islington-road. Poor, harmless creatures such men are; contented but not happy;broken-spirited and humbled, they may feel no pain, but they neverknow pleasure. 

Compare these men with another class of beings who, like them, haveneither friend nor companion, but whose position in society is theresult of their own choice. These are generally old fellows withwhite heads and red faces, addicted to port wine and Hessian boots, who from some cause, real or imaginary--generally the former, theexcellent reason being that they are rich, and their relationspoor--grow suspicious of everybody, and do the misanthropical inchambers, taking great delight in thinking themselves unhappy, andmaking everybody they come near, miserable. You may see such menas these, anywhere; you will know them at coffee-houses by theirdiscontented exclamations and the luxury of their dinners; attheatres, by their always sitting in the same place and lookingwith a jaundiced eye on all the young people near them; at church, by the pomposity with which they enter, and the loud tone in whichthey repeat the responses; at parties, by their getting cross atwhist and hating music. An old fellow of this kind will have hischambers splendidly furnished, and collect books, plate, andpictures about him in profusion; not so much for his owngratification, as to be superior to those who have the desire, butnot the means, to compete with him. He belongs to two or threeclubs, and is envied, and flattered, and hated by the members ofthem all. Sometimes he will be appealed to by a poor relation--amarried nephew perhaps--for some little assistance: and then hewill declaim with honest indignation on the improvidence of youngmarried people, the worthlessness of a wife, the insolence ofhaving a family, the atrocity of getting into debt with a hundredand twenty-five pounds a year, and other unpardonable crimes;winding up his exhortations with a complacent review of his ownconduct, and a delicate allusion to parochial relief. He dies, some day after dinner, of apoplexy, having bequeathed his propertyto a Public Society, and the Institution erects a tablet to hismemory, expressive of their admiration of his Christian conduct inthis world, and their comfortable conviction of his happiness inthe next. 

But, next to our very particular friends, hackney-coachmen, cabmenand cads, whom we admire in proportion to the extent of their coolimpudence and perfect self-possession, there is no class of peoplewho amuse us more than London apprentices. They are no longer anorganised body, bound down by solemn compact to terrify hisMajesty's subjects whenever it pleases them to take offence intheir heads and staves in their hands. They are only bound, now, by indentures, and, as to their valour, it is easily restrained bythe wholesome dread of the New Police, and a perspective view of adamp station-house, terminating in a police-office and a reprimand. They are still, however, a peculiar class, and not the lesspleasant for being inoffensive. Can any one fail to have noticedthem in the streets on Sunday? And were there ever such harmlessefforts at the grand and magnificent as the young fellows display!We walked down the Strand, a Sunday or two ago, behind a littlegroup; and they furnished food for our amusement the whole way. They had come out of some part of the city; it was between threeand four o'clock in the afternoon; and they were on their way tothe Park. There were four of them, all arm-in-arm, with white kidgloves like so many bridegrooms, light trousers of unprecedentedpatterns, and coats for which the English language has yet no name--a kind of cross between a great-coat and a surtout, with thecollar of the one, the skirts of the other, and pockets peculiar tothemselves. 

Each of the gentlemen carried a thick stick, with a large tassel atthe top, which he occasionally twirled gracefully round; and thewhole four, by way of looking easy and unconcerned, were walkingwith a paralytic swagger irresistibly ludicrous. One of the partyhad a watch about the size and shape of a reasonable Ribstonepippin, jammed into his waistcoat-pocket, which he carefullycompared with the clocks at St. Clement's and the New Church, theilluminated clock at Exeter 'Change, the clock of St. Martin'sChurch, and the clock of the Horse Guards. When they at lastarrived in St. James's Park, the member of the party who had thebest-made boots on, hired a second chair expressly for his feet, and flung himself on this two-pennyworth of sylvan luxury with anair which levelled all distinctions between Brookes's and Snooks's, Crockford's and Bagnigge Wells. 

We may smile at such people, but they can never excite our anger. They are usually on the best terms with themselves, and it followsalmost as a matter of course, in good humour with every one aboutthem. Besides, they are always the faint reflection of higherlights; and, if they do display a little occasional foolery intheir own proper persons, it is surely more tolerable thanprecocious puppyism in the Quadrant, whiskered dandyism in Regent-street and Pall-mall, or gallantry in its dotage anywhere. 

CHAPTER II--A CHRISTMAS DINNER

Christmas time! That man must be a misanthrope indeed, in whosebreast something like a jovial feeling is not roused--in whose mindsome pleasant associations are not awakened--by the recurrence ofChristmas. There are people who will tell you that Christmas isnot to them what it used to be; that each succeeding Christmas hasfound some cherished hope, or happy prospect, of the year before, dimmed or passed away; that the present only serves to remind themof reduced circumstances and straitened incomes--of the feasts theyonce bestowed on hollow friends, and of the cold looks that meetthem now, in adversity and misfortune. Never heed such dismalreminiscences. There are few men who have lived long enough in theworld, who cannot call up such thoughts any day in the year. Thendo not select the merriest of the three hundred and sixty-five foryour doleful recollections, but draw your chair nearer the blazingfire--fill the glass and send round the song--and if your room besmaller than it was a dozen years ago, or if your glass be filledwith reeking punch, instead of sparkling wine, put a good face onthe matter, and empty it off-hand, and fill another, and troll offthe old ditty you used to sing, and thank God it's no worse. Lookon the merry faces of your children (if you have any) as they sitround the fire. One little seat may be empty; one slight form thatgladdened the father's heart, and roused the mother's pride to lookupon, may not be there. Dwell not upon the past; think not thatone short year ago, the fair child now resolving into dust, satbefore you, with the bloom of health upon its cheek, and the gaietyof infancy in its joyous eye. Reflect upon your present blessings--of which every man has many--not on your past misfortunes, ofwhich all men have some. Fill your glass again, with a merry faceand contented heart. Our life on it, but your Christmas shall bemerry, and your new year a happy one!

Who can be insensible to the outpourings of good feeling, and thehonest interchange of affectionate attachment, which abound at thisseason of the year? A Christmas family-party! We know nothing innature more delightful! There seems a magic in the very name ofChristmas. Petty jealousies and discords are forgotten; socialfeelings are awakened, in bosoms to which they have long beenstrangers; father and son, or brother and sister, who have met andpassed with averted gaze, or a look of cold recognition, for monthsbefore, proffer and return the cordial embrace, and bury their pastanimosities in their present happiness. Kindly hearts that haveyearned towards each other, but have been withheld by false notionsof pride and self-dignity, are again reunited, and all is kindnessand benevolence! Would that Christmas lasted the whole yearthrough (as it ought), and that the prejudices and passions whichdeform our better nature, were never called into action among thoseto whom they should ever be strangers!

The Christmas family-party that we mean, is not a mere assemblageof relations, got up at a week or two's notice, originating thisyear, having no family precedent in the last, and not likely to berepeated in the next. No. It is an annual gathering of all theaccessible members of the family, young or old, rich or poor; andall the children look forward to it, for two months beforehand, ina fever of anticipation. Formerly, it was held at grandpapa's; butgrandpapa getting old, and grandmamma getting old too, and ratherinfirm, they have given up house-keeping, and domesticatedthemselves with uncle George; so, the party always takes place atuncle George's house, but grandmamma sends in most of the goodthings, and grandpapa always WILL toddle down, all the way toNewgate-market, to buy the turkey, which he engages a porter tobring home behind him in triumph, always insisting on the man'sbeing rewarded with a glass of spirits, over and above his hire, todrink 'a merry Christmas and a happy new year' to aunt George. Asto grandmamma, she is very secret and mysterious for two or threedays beforehand, but not sufficiently so, to prevent rumoursgetting afloat that she has purchased a beautiful new cap with pinkribbons for each of the servants, together with sundry books, andpen-knives, and pencil-cases, for the younger branches; to saynothing of divers secret additions to the order originally given byaunt George at the pastry-cook's, such as another dozen of mince-pies for the dinner, and a large plum-cake for the children. 

On Christmas-eve, grandmamma is always in excellent spirits, andafter employing all the children, during the day, in stoning theplums, and all that, insists, regularly every year, on uncle Georgecoming down into the kitchen, taking off his coat, and stirring thepudding for half an hour or so, which uncle George good-humouredlydoes, to the vociferous delight of the children and servants. Theevening concludes with a glorious game of blind-man's-buff, in anearly stage of which grandpapa takes great care to be caught, inorder that he may have an opportunity of displaying his dexterity. 

On the following morning, the old couple, with as many of thechildren as the pew will hold, go to church in great state:leaving aunt George at home dusting decanters and filling casters, and uncle George carrying bottles into the dining-parlour, andcalling for corkscrews, and getting into everybody's way. 

When the church-party return to lunch, grandpapa produces a smallsprig of mistletoe from his pocket, and tempts the boys to kisstheir little cousins under it--a proceeding which affords both theboys and the old gentleman unlimited satisfaction, but which ratheroutrages grandmamma's ideas of decorum, until grandpapa says, thatwhen he was just thirteen years and three months old, HE kissedgrandmamma under a mistletoe too, on which the children clap theirhands, and laugh very heartily, as do aunt George and uncle George;and grandmamma looks pleased, and says, with a benevolent smile, that grandpapa was an impudent young dog, on which the childrenlaugh very heartily again, and grandpapa more heartily than any ofthem. 

But all these diversions are nothing to the subsequent excitementwhen grandmamma in a high cap, and slate-coloured silk gown; andgrandpapa with a beautifully plaited shirt-frill, and whiteneckerchief; seat themselves on one side of the drawing-room fire, with uncle George's children and little cousins innumerable, seatedin the front, waiting the arrival of the expected visitors. Suddenly a hackney-coach is heard to stop, and uncle George, whohas been looking out of the window, exclaims 'Here's Jane!' onwhich the children rush to the door, and helter-skelter down-stairs; and uncle Robert and aunt Jane, and the dear little baby, and the nurse, and the whole party, are ushered up-stairs amidsttumultuous shouts of 'Oh, my!' from the children, and frequentlyrepeated warnings not to hurt baby from the nurse. And grandpapatakes the child, and grandmamma kisses her daughter, and theconfusion of this first entry has scarcely subsided, when someother aunts and uncles with more cousins arrive, and the grown-upcousins flirt with each other, and so do the little cousins too, for that matter, and nothing is to be heard but a confused din oftalking, laughing, and merriment. 

A hesitating double knock at the street-door, heard during amomentary pause in the conversation, excites a general inquiry of'Who's that?' and two or three children, who have been standing atthe window, announce in a low voice, that it's 'poor auntMargaret. ' Upon which, aunt George leaves the room to welcome thenew-comer; and grandmamma draws herself up, rather stiff andstately; for Margaret married a poor man without her consent, andpoverty not being a sufficiently weighty punishment for heroffence, has been discarded by her friends, and debarred thesociety of her dearest relatives. But Christmas has come round, and the unkind feelings that have struggled against betterdispositions during the year, have melted away before its genialinfluence, like half-formed ice beneath the morning sun. It is notdifficult in a moment of angry feeling for a parent to denounce adisobedient child; but, to banish her at a period of general good-will and hilarity, from the hearth, round which she has sat on somany anniversaries of the same day, expanding by slow degrees frominfancy to girlhood, and then bursting, almost imperceptibly, intoa woman, is widely different. The air of conscious rectitude, andcold forgiveness, which the old lady has assumed, sits ill uponher; and when the poor girl is led in by her sister, pale in looksand broken in hope--not from poverty, for that she could bear, butfrom the consciousness of undeserved neglect, and unmeritedunkindness--it is easy to see how much of it is assumed. Amomentary pause succeeds; the girl breaks suddenly from her sisterand throws herself, sobbing, on her mother's neck. The fathersteps hastily forward, and takes her husband's hand. Friends crowdround to offer their hearty congratulations, and happiness andharmony again prevail. 

As to the dinner, it's perfectly delightful--nothing goes wrong, and everybody is in the very best of spirits, and disposed toplease and be pleased. Grandpapa relates a circumstantial accountof the purchase of the turkey, with a slight digression relative tothe purchase of previous turkeys, on former Christmas-days, whichgrandmamma corroborates in the minutest particular. Uncle Georgetells stories, and carves poultry, and takes wine, and jokes withthe children at the side-table, and winks at the cousins that aremaking love, or being made love to, and exhilarates everybody withhis good humour and hospitality; and when, at last, a stout servantstaggers in with a gigantic pudding, with a sprig of holly in thetop, there is such a laughing, and shouting, and clapping of littlechubby hands, and kicking up of fat dumpy legs, as can only beequalled by the applause with which the astonishing feat of pouringlighted brandy into mince-pies, is received by the youngervisitors. Then the dessert!--and the wine!--and the fun! Suchbeautiful speeches, and SUCH songs, from aunt Margaret's husband, who turns out to be such a nice man, and SO attentive tograndmamma! Even grandpapa not only sings his annual song withunprecedented vigour, but on being honoured with an unanimousencore, according to annual custom, actually comes out with a newone which nobody but grandmamma ever heard before; and a youngscapegrace of a cousin, who has been in some disgrace with the oldpeople, for certain heinous sins of omission and commission--neglecting to call, and persisting in drinking Burton Ale--astonishes everybody into convulsions of laughter by volunteeringthe most extraordinary comic songs that ever were heard. And thusthe evening passes, in a strain of rational good-will andcheerfulness, doing more to awaken the sympathies of every memberof the party in behalf of his neighbour, and to perpetuate theirgood feeling during the ensuing year, than half the homilies thathave ever been written, by half the Divines that have ever lived. 

CHAPTER III--THE NEW YEAR

Next to Christmas-day, the most pleasant annual epoch in existenceis the advent of the New Year. There are a lachrymose set ofpeople who usher in the New Year with watching and fasting, as ifthey were bound to attend as chief mourners at the obsequies of theold one. Now, we cannot but think it a great deal morecomplimentary, both to the old year that has rolled away, and tothe New Year that is just beginning to dawn upon us, to see the oldfellow out, and the new one in, with gaiety and glee. 

There must have been some few occurrences in the past year to whichwe can look back, with a smile of cheerful recollection, if notwith a feeling of heartfelt thankfulness. And we are bound byevery rule of justice and equity to give the New Year credit forbeing a good one, until he proves himself unworthy the confidencewe repose in him. 

This is our view of the matter; and entertaining it, notwithstanding our respect for the old year, one of the fewremaining moments of whose existence passes away with every word wewrite, here we are, seated by our fireside on this last night ofthe old year, one thousand eight hundred and thirty-six, penningthis article with as jovial a face as if nothing extraordinary hadhappened, or was about to happen, to disturb our good humour. 

Hackney-coaches and carriages keep rattling up the street and downthe street in rapid succession, conveying, doubtless, smartly-dressed coachfuls to crowded parties; loud and repeated doubleknocks at the house with green blinds, opposite, announce to thewhole neighbourhood that there's one large party in the street atall events; and we saw through the window, and through the fog too, till it grew so thick that we rung for candles, and drew ourcurtains, pastry-cooks' men with green boxes on their heads, androut-furniture-warehouse-carts, with cane seats and French lamps, hurrying to the numerous houses where an annual festival is held inhonour of the occasion. 

We can fancy one of these parties, we think, as well as if we wereduly dress-coated and pumped, and had just been announced at thedrawing-room door. 

Take the house with the green blinds for instance. We know it is aquadrille party, because we saw some men taking up the frontdrawing-room carpet while we sat at breakfast this morning, and iffurther evidence be required, and we must tell the truth, we justnow saw one of the young ladies 'doing' another of the youngladies' hair, near one of the bedroom windows, in an unusual styleof splendour, which nothing else but a quadrille party couldpossibly justify. 

The master of the house with the green blinds is in a publicoffice; we know the fact by the cut of his coat, the tie of hisneckcloth, and the self-satisfaction of his gait--the very greenblinds themselves have a Somerset House air about them. 

Hark!--a cab! That's a junior clerk in the same office; a tidysort of young man, with a tendency to cold and corns, who comes ina pair of boots with black cloth fronts, and brings his shoes inhis coat-pocket, which shoes he is at this very moment putting onin the hall. Now he is announced by the man in the passage toanother man in a blue coat, who is a disguised messenger from theoffice. 

The man on the first landing precedes him to the drawing-room door. 'Mr. Tupple!' shouts the messenger. 'How ARE you, Tupple?' saysthe master of the house, advancing from the fire, before which hehas been talking politics and airing himself. 'My dear, this isMr. Tupple (a courteous salute from the lady of the house); Tupple, my eldest daughter; Julia, my dear, Mr. Tupple; Tupple, my otherdaughters; my son, sir;' Tupple rubs his hands very hard, andsmiles as if it were all capital fun, and keeps constantly bowingand turning himself round, till the whole family have beenintroduced, when he glides into a chair at the corner of the sofa, and opens a miscellaneous conversation with the young ladies uponthe weather, and the theatres, and the old year, and the last newmurder, and the balloon, and the ladies' sleeves, and thefestivities of the season, and a great many other topics of smalltalk. 

More double knocks! what an extensive party! what an incessant humof conversation and general sipping of coffee! We see Tupple now, in our mind's eye, in the height of his glory. He has just handedthat stout old lady's cup to the servant; and now, he dives amongthe crowd of young men by the door, to intercept the other servant, and secure the muffin-plate for the old lady's daughter, before heleaves the room; and now, as he passes the sofa on his way back, hebestows a glance of recognition and patronage upon the young ladiesas condescending and familiar as if he had known them from infancy. 

Charming person Mr. Tupple--perfect ladies' man--such a delightfulcompanion, too! Laugh!--nobody ever understood papa's jokes halfso well as Mr. Tupple, who laughs himself into convulsions at everyfresh burst of facetiousness. Most delightful partner! talksthrough the whole set! and although he does seem at first rathergay and frivolous, so romantic and with so MUCH feeling! Quite alove. No great favourite with the young men, certainly, who sneerat, and affect to despise him; but everybody knows that's onlyenvy, and they needn't give themselves the trouble to depreciatehis merits at any rate, for Ma says he shall be asked to everyfuture dinner-party, if it's only to talk to people between thecourses, and distract their attention when there's any unexpecteddelay in the kitchen. 

At supper, Mr. Tupple shows to still greater advantage than he hasdone throughout the evening, and when Pa requests every one to filltheir glasses for the purpose of drinking happiness throughout theyear, Mr. Tupple is SO droll: insisting on all the young ladieshaving their glasses filled, notwithstanding their repeatedassurances that they never can, by any possibility, think ofemptying them and subsequently begging permission to say a fewwords on the sentiment which has just been uttered by Pa--when hemakes one of the most brilliant and poetical speeches that canpossibly be imagined, about the old year and the new one. Afterthe toast has been drunk, and when the ladies have retired, Mr. Tupple requests that every gentleman will do him the favour offilling his glass, for he has a toast to propose: on which all thegentlemen cry 'Hear! hear!' and pass the decanters accordingly:and Mr. Tupple being informed by the master of the house that theyare all charged, and waiting for his toast, rises, and begs toremind the gentlemen present, how much they have been delighted bythe dazzling array of elegance and beauty which the drawing-roomhas exhibited that night, and how their senses have been charmed, and their hearts captivated, by the bewitching concentration offemale loveliness which that very room has so recently displayed. (Loud cries of 'Hear!') Much as he (Tupple) would be disposed todeplore the absence of the ladies, on other grounds, he cannot butderive some consolation from the reflection that the verycircumstance of their not being present, enables him to propose atoast, which he would have otherwise been prevented from giving--that toast he begs to say is--'The Ladies!' (Great applause. ) TheLadies! among whom the fascinating daughters of their excellenthost, are alike conspicuous for their beauty, theiraccomplishments, and their elegance. He begs them to drain abumper to 'The Ladies, and a happy new year to them!' (Prolongedapprobation; above which the noise of the ladies dancing theSpanish dance among themselves, overhead, is distinctly audible. )

The applause consequent on this toast, has scarcely subsided, whena young gentleman in a pink under-waistcoat, sitting towards thebottom of the table, is observed to grow very restless and fidgety, and to evince strong indications of some latent desire to give ventto his feelings in a speech, which the wary Tupple at onceperceiving, determines to forestall by speaking himself. He, therefore, rises again, with an air of solemn importance, andtrusts he may be permitted to propose another toast (unqualifiedapprobation, and Mr. Tupple proceeds). He is sure they must all bedeeply impressed with the hospitality--he may say the splendour--with which they have been that night received by their worthy hostand hostess. (Unbounded applause. ) Although this is the firstoccasion on which he has had the pleasure and delight of sitting atthat board, he has known his friend Dobble long and intimately; hehas been connected with him in business--he wishes everybodypresent knew Dobble as well as he does. (A cough from the host. )He (Tupple) can lay his hand upon his (Tupple's) heart, and declarehis confident belief that a better man, a better husband, a betterfather, a better brother, a better son, a better relation in anyrelation of life, than Dobble, never existed. (Loud cries of'Hear!') They have seen him to-night in the peaceful bosom of hisfamily; they should see him in the morning, in the trying duties ofhis office. Calm in the perusal of the morning papers, uncompromising in the signature of his name, dignified in hisreplies to the inquiries of stranger applicants, deferential in hisbehaviour to his superiors, majestic in his deportment to themessengers. (Cheers. ) When he bears this merited testimony to theexcellent qualities of his friend Dobble, what can he say inapproaching such a subject as Mrs. Dobble? Is it requisite for himto expatiate on the qualities of that amiable woman? No; he willspare his friend Dobble's feelings; he will spare the feelings ofhis friend--if he will allow him to have the honour of calling himso--Mr. Dobble, junior. (Here Mr. Dobble, junior, who has beenpreviously distending his mouth to a considerable width, bythrusting a particularly fine orange into that feature, suspendsoperations, and assumes a proper appearance of intense melancholy). He will simply say--and he is quite certain it is a sentiment inwhich all who hear him will readily concur--that his friend Dobbleis as superior to any man he ever knew, as Mrs. Dobble is farbeyond any woman he ever saw (except her daughters); and he willconclude by proposing their worthy 'Host and Hostess, and may theylive to enjoy many more new years!'

The toast is drunk with acclamation; Dobble returns thanks, and thewhole party rejoin the ladies in the drawing-room. Young men whowere too bashful to dance before supper, find tongues and partners;the musicians exhibit unequivocal symptoms of having drunk the newyear in, while the company were out; and dancing is kept up, untilfar in the first morning of the new year. 

We have scarcely written the last word of the previous sentence, when the first stroke of twelve, peals from the neighbouringchurches. There certainly--we must confess it now--is somethingawful in the sound. Strictly speaking, it may not be moreimpressive now, than at any other time; for the hours steal asswiftly on, at other periods, and their flight is little heeded. But, we measure man's life by years, and it is a solemn knell thatwarns us we have passed another of the landmarks which standsbetween us and the grave. Disguise it as we may, the reflectionwill force itself on our minds, that when the next bell announcesthe arrival of a new year, we may be insensible alike of the timelywarning we have so often neglected, and of all the warm feelingsthat glow within us now. 

CHAPTER IV--MISS EVANS AND THE EAGLE

Mr. Samuel Wilkins was a carpenter, a journeyman carpenter of smalldimensions, decidedly below the middle size--bordering, perhaps, upon the dwarfish. His face was round and shining, and his haircarefully twisted into the outer corner of each eye, till it formeda variety of that description of semi-curls, usually known as'aggerawators. ' His earnings were all-sufficient for his wants, varying from eighteen shillings to one pound five, weekly--hismanner undeniable--his sabbath waistcoats dazzling. No wonderthat, with these qualifications, Samuel Wilkins found favour in theeyes of the other sex: many women have been captivated by far lesssubstantial qualifications. But, Samuel was proof against theirblandishments, until at length his eyes rested on those of a Beingfor whom, from that time forth, he felt fate had destined him. Hecame, and conquered--proposed, and was accepted--loved, and wasbeloved. Mr. Wilkins 'kept company' with Jemima Evans. 

Miss Evans (or Ivins, to adopt the pronunciation most in vogue withher circle of acquaintance) had adopted in early life the usefulpursuit of shoe-binding, to which she had afterwards superadded theoccupation of a straw-bonnet maker. Herself, her maternal parent, and two sisters, formed an harmonious quartett in the most secludedportion of Camden-town; and here it was that Mr. Wilkins presentedhimself, one Monday afternoon, in his best attire, with his facemore shining and his waistcoat more bright than either had everappeared before. The family were just going to tea, and were SOglad to see him. It was quite a little feast; two ounces of seven-and-sixpenny green, and a quarter of a pound of the best fresh; andMr. Wilkins had brought a pint of shrimps, neatly folded up in aclean belcher, to give a zest to the meal, and propitiate Mrs. Ivins. Jemima was 'cleaning herself' up-stairs; so Mr. SamuelWilkins sat down and talked domestic economy with Mrs. Ivins, whilst the two youngest Miss Ivinses poked bits of lighted brownpaper between the bars under the kettle, to make the water boil fortea. 

'I wos a thinking, ' said Mr. Samuel Wilkins, during a pause in theconversation--'I wos a thinking of taking J'mima to the Eagle to-night. '--'O my!' exclaimed Mrs. Ivins. 'Lor! how nice!' said theyoungest Miss Ivins. 'Well, I declare!' added the youngest MissIvins but one. 'Tell J'mima to put on her white muslin, Tilly, 'screamed Mrs. Ivins, with motherly anxiety; and down came J'mimaherself soon afterwards in a white muslin gown carefully hooked andeyed, a little red shawl, plentifully pinned, a white straw bonnettrimmed with red ribbons, a small necklace, a large pair ofbracelets, Denmark satin shoes, and open-worked stockings; whitecotton gloves on her fingers, and a cambric pocket-handkerchief, carefully folded up, in her hand--all quite genteel and ladylike. And away went Miss J'mima Ivins and Mr. Samuel Wilkins, and adress-cane, with a gilt knob at the top, to the admiration and envyof the street in general, and to the high gratification of Mrs. Ivins, and the two youngest Miss Ivinses in particular. They hadno sooner turned into the Pancras-road, than who should Miss J'mimaIvins stumble upon, by the most fortunate accident in the world, but a young lady as she knew, with HER young man!--And it is sostrange how things do turn out sometimes--they were actually goingto the Eagle too. So Mr. Samuel Wilkins was introduced to MissJ'mima Ivins's friend's young man, and they all walked on together, talking, and laughing, and joking away like anything; and when theygot as far as Pentonville, Miss Ivins's friend's young man WOULDhave the ladies go into the Crown, to taste some shrub, which, after a great blushing and giggling, and hiding of faces inelaborate pocket-handkerchiefs, they consented to do. Havingtasted it once, they were easily prevailed upon to taste it again;and they sat out in the garden tasting shrub, and looking at theBusses alternately, till it was just the proper time to go to theEagle; and then they resumed their journey, and walked very fast, for fear they should lose the beginning of the concert in theRotunda. 

'How ev'nly!' said Miss J'mima Ivins, and Miss J'mima Ivins'sfriend, both at once, when they had passed the gate and were fairlyinside the gardens. There were the walks, beautifully gravelledand planted--and the refreshment-boxes, painted and ornamented likeso many snuff-boxes--and the variegated lamps shedding their richlight upon the company's heads--and the place for dancing readychalked for the company's feet--and a Moorish band playing at oneend of the gardens--and an opposition military band playing away atthe other. Then, the waiters were rushing to and fro with glassesof negus, and glasses of brandy-and-water, and bottles of ale, andbottles of stout; and ginger-beer was going off in one place, andpractical jokes were going on in another; and people were crowdingto the door of the Rotunda; and in short the whole scene was, asMiss J'mima Ivins, inspired by the novelty, or the shrub, or both, observed--'one of dazzling excitement. ' As to the concert-room, never was anything half so splendid. There was an orchestra forthe singers, all paint, gilding, and plate-glass; and such anorgan! Miss J'mima Ivins's friend's young man whispered it hadcost 'four hundred pound, ' which Mr. Samuel Wilkins said was 'notdear neither;' an opinion in which the ladies perfectly coincided. The audience were seated on elevated benches round the room, andcrowded into every part of it; and everybody was eating anddrinking as comfortably as possible. Just before the concertcommenced, Mr. Samuel Wilkins ordered two glasses of rum-and-water'warm with--' and two slices of lemon, for himself and the otheryoung man, together with 'a pint o' sherry wine for the ladies, andsome sweet carraway-seed biscuits;' and they would have been quitecomfortable and happy, only a strange gentleman with large whiskersWOULD stare at Miss J'mima Ivins, and another gentleman in a plaidwaistcoat WOULD wink at Miss J'mima Ivins's friend; on which MissJemima Ivins's friend's young man exhibited symptoms of boilingover, and began to mutter about 'people's imperence, ' and 'swellsout o' luck;' and to intimate, in oblique terms, a vague intentionof knocking somebody's head off; which he was only prevented fromannouncing more emphatically, by both Miss J'mima Ivins and herfriend threatening to faint away on the spot if he said anotherword. 

The concert commenced--overture on the organ. 'How solemn!'exclaimed Miss J'mima Ivins, glancing, perhaps unconsciously, atthe gentleman with the whiskers. Mr. Samuel Wilkins, who had beenmuttering apart for some time past, as if he were holding aconfidential conversation with the gilt knob of the dress-cane, breathed hard-breathing vengeance, perhaps, --but said nothing. 'The soldier tired, ' Miss Somebody in white satin. 'Ancore!' criedMiss J'mima Ivins's friend. 'Ancore!' shouted the gentleman in theplaid waistcoat immediately, hammering the table with a stout-bottle. Miss J'mima Ivins's friend's young man eyed the man behindthe waistcoat from head to foot, and cast a look of interrogativecontempt towards Mr. Samuel Wilkins. Comic song, accompanied onthe organ. Miss J'mima Ivins was convulsed with laughter--so wasthe man with the whiskers. Everything the ladies did, the plaidwaistcoat and whiskers did, by way of expressing unity of sentimentand congeniality of soul; and Miss J'mima Ivins, and Miss J'mimaIvins's friend, grew lively and talkative, as Mr. Samuel Wilkins, and Miss J'mima Ivins's friend's young man, grew morose and surlyin inverse proportion. 

Now, if the matter had ended here, the little party might soon haverecovered their former equanimity; but Mr. Samuel Wilkins and hisfriend began to throw looks of defiance upon the waistcoat andwhiskers. And the waistcoat and whiskers, by way of intimating theslight degree in which they were affected by the looks aforesaid, bestowed glances of increased admiration upon Miss J'mima Ivins andfriend. The concert and vaudeville concluded, they promenaded thegardens. The waistcoat and whiskers did the same; and made diversremarks complimentary to the ankles of Miss J'mima Ivins andfriend, in an audible tone. At length, not satisfied with thesenumerous atrocities, they actually came up and asked Miss J'mimaIvins, and Miss J'mima Ivins's friend, to dance, without taking nomore notice of Mr. Samuel Wilkins, and Miss J'mima Ivins's friend'syoung man, than if they was nobody!

'What do you mean by that, scoundrel!' exclaimed Mr. SamuelWilkins, grasping the gilt-knobbed dress-cane firmly in his righthand. 'What's the matter with YOU, you little humbug?' replied thewhiskers. 'How dare you insult me and my friend?' inquired thefriend's young man. 'You and your friend be hanged!' responded thewaistcoat. 'Take that, ' exclaimed Mr. Samuel Wilkins. The ferruleof the gilt-knobbed dress-cane was visible for an instant, and thenthe light of the variegated lamps shone brightly upon it as itwhirled into the air, cane and all. 'Give it him, ' said thewaistcoat. 'Horficer!' screamed the ladies. Miss J'mima Ivins'sbeau, and the friend's young man, lay gasping on the gravel, andthe waistcoat and whiskers were seen no more. 

Miss J'mima Ivins and friend being conscious that the affray was inno slight degree attributable to themselves, of course went intohysterics forthwith; declared themselves the most injured of women;exclaimed, in incoherent ravings, that they had been suspected--wrongfully suspected--oh! that they should ever have lived to seethe day--and so forth; suffered a relapse every time they openedtheir eyes and saw their unfortunate little admirers; and werecarried to their respective abodes in a hackney-coach, and a stateof insensibility, compounded of shrub, sherry, and excitement. 

CHAPTER V--THE PARLOUR ORATOR

We had been lounging one evening, down Oxford-street, Holborn, Cheapside, Coleman-street, Finsbury-square, and so on, with theintention of returning westward, by Pentonville and the New-road, when we began to feel rather thirsty, and disposed to rest for fiveor ten minutes. So, we turned back towards an old, quiet, decentpublic-house, which we remembered to have passed but a momentbefore (it was not far from the City-road), for the purpose ofsolacing ourself with a glass of ale. The house was none of yourstuccoed, French-polished, illuminated palaces, but a modestpublic-house of the old school, with a little old bar, and a littleold landlord, who, with a wife and daughter of the same pattern, was comfortably seated in the bar aforesaid--a snug little roomwith a cheerful fire, protected by a large screen: from behindwhich the young lady emerged on our representing our inclinationfor a glass of ale. 

'Won't you walk into the parlour, sir?' said the young lady, inseductive tones. 

'You had better walk into the parlour, sir, ' said the little oldlandlord, throwing his chair back, and looking round one side ofthe screen, to survey our appearance. 

'You had much better step into the parlour, sir, ' said the littleold lady, popping out her head, on the other side of the screen. 

We cast a slight glance around, as if to express our ignorance ofthe locality so much recommended. The little old landlord observedit; bustled out of the small door of the small bar; and forthwithushered us into the parlour itself. 

It was an ancient, dark-looking room, with oaken wainscoting, asanded floor, and a high mantel-piece. The walls were ornamentedwith three or four old coloured prints in black frames, each printrepresenting a naval engagement, with a couple of men-of-warbanging away at each other most vigorously, while another vessel ortwo were blowing up in the distance, and the foreground presented amiscellaneous collection of broken masts and blue legs sticking upout of the water. Depending from the ceiling in the centre of theroom, were a gas-light and bell-pull; on each side were three orfour long narrow tables, behind which was a thickly-planted row ofthose slippery, shiny-looking wooden chairs, peculiar to hostelriesof this description. The monotonous appearance of the sandedboards was relieved by an occasional spittoon; and a triangularpile of those useful articles adorned the two upper corners of theapartment. 

At the furthest table, nearest the fire, with his face towards thedoor at the bottom of the room, sat a stoutish man of about forty, whose short, stiff, black hair curled closely round a broad highforehead, and a face to which something besides water and exercisehad communicated a rather inflamed appearance. He was smoking acigar, with his eyes fixed on the ceiling, and had that confidentoracular air which marked him as the leading politician, generalauthority, and universal anecdote-relater, of the place. He hadevidently just delivered himself of something very weighty; for theremainder of the company were puffing at their respective pipes andcigars in a kind of solemn abstraction, as if quite overwhelmedwith the magnitude of the subject recently under discussion. 

On his right hand sat an elderly gentleman with a white head, andbroad-brimmed brown hat; on his left, a sharp-nosed, light-hairedman in a brown surtout reaching nearly to his heels, who took awhiff at his pipe, and an admiring glance at the red-faced man, alternately. 

'Very extraordinary!' said the light-haired man after a pause offive minutes. A murmur of assent ran through the company. 

'Not at all extraordinary--not at all, ' said the red-faced man, awakening suddenly from his reverie, and turning upon the light-haired man, the moment he had spoken. 

'Why should it be extraordinary?--why is it extraordinary?--proveit to be extraordinary!'

'Oh, if you come to that--' said the light-haired man, meekly. 

'Come to that!' ejaculated the man with the red face; 'but we MUSTcome to that. We stand, in these times, upon a calm elevation ofintellectual attainment, and not in the dark recess of mentaldeprivation. Proof, is what I require--proof, and not assertions, in these stirring times. Every gen'lem'n that knows me, knows whatwas the nature and effect of my observations, when it was in thecontemplation of the Old-street Suburban Representative DiscoverySociety, to recommend a candidate for that place in Cornwall there--I forget the name of it. "Mr. Snobee, " said Mr. Wilson, "is a fitand proper person to represent the borough in Parliament. " "Proveit, " says I. "He is a friend to Reform, " says Mr. Wilson. "Proveit, " says I. "The abolitionist of the national debt, theunflinching opponent of pensions, the uncompromising advocate ofthe negro, the reducer of sinecures and the duration ofParliaments; the extender of nothing but the suffrages of thepeople, " says Mr. Wilson. "Prove it, " says I. "His acts proveit, " says he. "Prove THEM, " says I. 

'And he could not prove them, ' said the red-faced man, lookinground triumphantly; 'and the borough didn't have him; and if youcarried this principle to the full extent, you'd have no debt, nopensions, no sinecures, no negroes, no nothing. And then, standingupon an elevation of intellectual attainment, and having reachedthe summit of popular prosperity, you might bid defiance to thenations of the earth, and erect yourselves in the proud confidenceof wisdom and superiority. This is my argument--this always hasbeen my argument--and if I was a Member of the House of Commons to-morrow, I'd make 'em shake in their shoes with it. And the red-faced man, having struck the table very hard with his clenchedfist, to add weight to the declaration, smoked away like a brewery. 

'Well!' said the sharp-nosed man, in a very slow and soft voice, addressing the company in general, 'I always do say, that of allthe gentlemen I have the pleasure of meeting in this room, there isnot one whose conversation I like to hear so much as Mr. Rogers's, or who is such improving company. '

'Improving company!' said Mr. Rogers, for that, it seemed, was thename of the red-faced man. 'You may say I am improving company, for I've improved you all to some purpose; though as to myconversation being as my friend Mr. Ellis here describes it, thatis not for me to say anything about. You, gentlemen, are the bestjudges on that point; but this I will say, when I came into thisparish, and first used this room, ten years ago, I don't believethere was one man in it, who knew he was a slave--and now you allknow it, and writhe under it. Inscribe that upon my tomb, and I amsatisfied. '

'Why, as to inscribing it on your tomb, ' said a little greengrocerwith a chubby face, 'of course you can have anything chalked up, asyou likes to pay for, so far as it relates to yourself and youraffairs; but, when you come to talk about slaves, and that thereabuse, you'd better keep it in the family, 'cos I for one don'tlike to be called them names, night after night. '

'You ARE a slave, ' said the red-faced man, 'and the most pitiableof all slaves. '

'Werry hard if I am, ' interrupted the greengrocer, 'for I got nogood out of the twenty million that was paid for 'mancipation, anyhow. '

'A willing slave, ' ejaculated the red-faced man, getting more redwith eloquence, and contradiction--'resigning the dearestbirthright of your children--neglecting the sacred call of Liberty--who, standing imploringly before you, appeals to the warmestfeelings of your heart, and points to your helpless infants, but invain. '

'Prove it, ' said the greengrocer. 

'Prove it!' sneered the man with the red face. 'What! bendingbeneath the yoke of an insolent and factious oligarchy; bowed downby the domination of cruel laws; groaning beneath tyranny andoppression on every hand, at every side, and in every corner. Prove it!--' The red-faced man abruptly broke off, sneered melo-dramatically, and buried his countenance and his indignationtogether, in a quart pot. 

'Ah, to be sure, Mr. Rogers, ' said a stout broker in a largewaistcoat, who had kept his eyes fixed on this luminary all thetime he was speaking. 'Ah, to be sure, ' said the broker with asigh, 'that's the point. '

'Of course, of course, ' said divers members of the company, whounderstood almost as much about the matter as the broker himself. 

'You had better let him alone, Tommy, ' said the broker, by way ofadvice to the little greengrocer; 'he can tell what's o'clock by aneight-day, without looking at the minute hand, he can. Try it on, on some other suit; it won't do with him, Tommy. '

'What is a man?' continued the red-faced specimen of the species, jerking his hat indignantly from its peg on the wall. 'What is anEnglishman? Is he to be trampled upon by every oppressor? Is heto be knocked down at everybody's bidding? What's freedom? Not astanding army. What's a standing army? Not freedom. What'sgeneral happiness? Not universal misery. Liberty ain't thewindow-tax, is it? The Lords ain't the Commons, are they?' Andthe red-faced man, gradually bursting into a radiating sentence, inwhich such adjectives as 'dastardly, ' 'oppressive, ' 'violent, ' and'sanguinary, ' formed the most conspicuous words, knocked his hatindignantly over his eyes, left the room, and slammed the doorafter him. 

'Wonderful man!' said he of the sharp nose. 

'Splendid speaker!' added the broker. 

'Great power!' said everybody but the greengrocer. And as theysaid it, the whole party shook their heads mysteriously, and one byone retired, leaving us alone in the old parlour. 

If we had followed the established precedent in all such instances, we should have fallen into a fit of musing, without delay. Theancient appearance of the room--the old panelling of the wall--thechimney blackened with smoke and age--would have carried us back ahundred years at least, and we should have gone dreaming on, untilthe pewter-pot on the table, or the little beer-chiller on thefire, had started into life, and addressed to us a long story ofdays gone by. But, by some means or other, we were not in aromantic humour; and although we tried very hard to invest thefurniture with vitality, it remained perfectly unmoved, obstinate, and sullen. Being thus reduced to the unpleasant necessity ofmusing about ordinary matters, our thoughts reverted to the red-faced man, and his oratorical display. 

A numerous race are these red-faced men; there is not a parlour, orclub-room, or benefit society, or humble party of any kind, withoutits red-faced man. Weak-pated dolts they are, and a great deal ofmischief they do to their cause, however good. So, just to hold apattern one up, to know the others by, we took his likeness atonce, and put him in here. And that is the reason why we havewritten this paper. 

CHAPTER VI--THE HOSPITAL PATIENT

In our rambles through the streets of London after evening has setin, we often pause beneath the windows of some public hospital, andpicture to ourself the gloomy and mournful scenes that are passingwithin. The sudden moving of a taper as its feeble ray shoots fromwindow to window, until its light gradually disappears, as if itwere carried farther back into the room to the bedside of somesuffering patient, is enough to awaken a whole crowd ofreflections; the mere glimmering of the low-burning lamps, which, when all other habitations are wrapped in darkness and slumber, denote the chamber where so many forms are writhing with pain, orwasting with disease, is sufficient to check the most boisterousmerriment. 

Who can tell the anguish of those weary hours, when the only soundthe sick man hears, is the disjointed wanderings of some feverishslumberer near him, the low moan of pain, or perhaps the muttered, long-forgotten prayer of a dying man? Who, but they who have feltit, can imagine the sense of loneliness and desolation which mustbe the portion of those who in the hour of dangerous illness areleft to be tended by strangers; for what hands, be they ever sogentle, can wipe the clammy brow, or smooth the restless bed, likethose of mother, wife, or child?

Impressed with these thoughts, we have turned away, through thenearly-deserted streets; and the sight of the few miserablecreatures still hovering about them, has not tended to lessen thepain which such meditations awaken. The hospital is a refuge andresting-place for hundreds, who but for such institutions must diein the streets and doorways; but what can be the feelings of someoutcasts when they are stretched on the bed of sickness withscarcely a hope of recovery? The wretched woman who lingers aboutthe pavement, hours after midnight, and the miserable shadow of aman--the ghastly remnant that want and drunkenness have left--whichcrouches beneath a window-ledge, to sleep where there is someshelter from the rain, have little to bind them to life, but whathave they to look back upon, in death? What are the unwontedcomforts of a roof and a bed, to them, when the recollections of awhole life of debasement stalk before them; when repentance seems amockery, and sorrow comes too late?

About a twelvemonth ago, as we were strolling through Covent-garden(we had been thinking about these things over-night), we wereattracted by the very prepossessing appearance of a pickpocket, whohaving declined to take the trouble of walking to the Police-office, on the ground that he hadn't the slightest wish to go thereat all, was being conveyed thither in a wheelbarrow, to the hugedelight of a crowd. 

Somehow, we never can resist joining a crowd, so we turned backwith the mob, and entered the office, in company with our friendthe pickpocket, a couple of policemen, and as many dirty-facedspectators as could squeeze their way in. 

There was a powerful, ill-looking young fellow at the bar, who wasundergoing an examination, on the very common charge of having, onthe previous night, ill-treated a woman, with whom he lived in somecourt hard by. Several witnesses bore testimony to acts of thegrossest brutality; and a certificate was read from the house-surgeon of a neighbouring hospital, describing the nature of theinjuries the woman had received, and intimating that her recoverywas extremely doubtful. 

Some question appeared to have been raised about the identity ofthe prisoner; for when it was agreed that the two magistratesshould visit the hospital at eight o'clock that evening, to takeher deposition, it was settled that the man should be taken therealso. He turned pale at this, and we saw him clench the bar veryhard when the order was given. He was removed directly afterwards, and he spoke not a word. 

We felt an irrepressible curiosity to witness this interview, although it is hard to tell why, at this instant, for we knew itmust be a painful one. It was no very difficult matter for us togain permission, and we obtained it. 

The prisoner, and the officer who had him in custody, were alreadyat the hospital when we reached it, and waiting the arrival of themagistrates in a small room below stairs. The man was handcuffed, and his hat was pulled forward over his eyes. It was easy to see, though, by the whiteness of his countenance, and the constanttwitching of the muscles of his face, that he dreaded what was tocome. After a short interval, the magistrates and clerk were bowedin by the house-surgeon and a couple of young men who smelt verystrong of tobacco-smoke--they were introduced as 'dressers'--andafter one magistrate had complained bitterly of the cold, and theother of the absence of any news in the evening paper, it wasannounced that the patient was prepared; and we were conducted tothe 'casualty ward' in which she was lying. 

The dim light which burnt in the spacious room, increased ratherthan diminished the ghastly appearance of the hapless creatures inthe beds, which were ranged in two long rows on either side. Inone bed, lay a child enveloped in bandages, with its body half-consumed by fire; in another, a female, rendered hideous by somedreadful accident, was wildly beating her clenched fists on thecoverlet, in pain; on a third, there lay stretched a young girl, apparently in the heavy stupor often the immediate precursor ofdeath: her face was stained with blood, and her breast and armswere bound up in folds of linen. Two or three of the beds wereempty, and their recent occupants were sitting beside them, butwith faces so wan, and eyes so bright and glassy, that it wasfearful to meet their gaze. On every face was stamped theexpression of anguish and suffering. 

The object of the visit was lying at the upper end of the room. She was a fine young woman of about two or three and twenty. Herlong black hair, which had been hastily cut from near the wounds onher head, streamed over the pillow in jagged and matted locks. Herface bore deep marks of the ill-usage she had received: her handwas pressed upon her side, as if her chief pain were there; herbreathing was short and heavy; and it was plain to see that she wasdying fast. She murmured a few words in reply to the magistrate'sinquiry whether she was in great pain; and, having been raised onthe pillow by the nurse, looked vacantly upon the strangecountenances that surrounded her bed. The magistrate nodded to theofficer, to bring the man forward. He did so, and stationed him atthe bedside. The girl looked on with a wild and troubledexpression of face; but her sight was dim, and she did not knowhim. 

'Take off his hat, ' said the magistrate. The officer did as he wasdesired, and the man's features were disclosed. 

The girl started up, with an energy quite preternatural; the firegleamed in her heavy eyes, and the blood rushed to her pale andsunken cheeks. It was a convulsive effort. She fell back upon herpillow, and covering her scarred and bruised face with her hands, burst into tears. The man cast an anxious look towards her, butotherwise appeared wholly unmoved. After a brief pause the natureof the errand was explained, and the oath tendered. 

'Oh, no, gentlemen, ' said the girl, raising herself once more, andfolding her hands together; 'no, gentlemen, for God's sake! I didit myself--it was nobody's fault--it was an accident. He didn'thurt me; he wouldn't for all the world. Jack, dear Jack, you knowyou wouldn't!'

Her sight was fast failing her, and her hand groped over thebedclothes in search of his. Brute as the man was, he was notprepared for this. He turned his face from the bed, and sobbed. The girl's colour changed, and her breathing grew more difficult. She was evidently dying. 

'We respect the feelings which prompt you to this, ' said thegentleman who had spoken first, 'but let me warn you, not topersist in what you know to be untrue, until it is too late. Itcannot save him. '

'Jack, ' murmured the girl, laying her hand upon his arm, 'theyshall not persuade me to swear your life away. He didn't do it, gentlemen. He never hurt me. ' She grasped his arm tightly, andadded, in a broken whisper, 'I hope God Almighty will forgive meall the wrong I have done, and the life I have led. God bless you, Jack. Some kind gentleman take my love to my poor old father. Five years ago, he said he wished I had died a child. Oh, I wish Ihad! I wish I had!'

The nurse bent over the girl for a few seconds, and then drew thesheet over her face. It covered a corpse. 

CHAPTER VII--THE MISPLACED ATTACHMENT OF MR. JOHN DOUNCE

If we had to make a classification of society, there is aparticular kind of men whom we should immediately set down underthe head of 'Old Boys;' and a column of most extensive dimensionsthe old boys would require. To what precise causes the rapidadvance of old-boy population is to be traced, we are unable todetermine. It would be an interesting and curious speculation, but, as we have not sufficient space to devote to it here, wesimply state the fact that the numbers of the old boys have beengradually augmenting within the last few years, and that they areat this moment alarmingly on the increase. 

Upon a general review of the subject, and without considering itminutely in detail, we should be disposed to subdivide the old boysinto two distinct classes--the gay old boys, and the steady oldboys. The gay old boys, are paunchy old men in the disguise ofyoung ones, who frequent the Quadrant and Regent-street in the day-time: the theatres (especially theatres under lady management) atnight; and who assume all the foppishness and levity of boys, without the excuse of youth or inexperience. The steady old boysare certain stout old gentlemen of clean appearance, who are alwaysto be seen in the same taverns, at the same hours every evening, smoking and drinking in the same company. 

There was once a fine collection of old boys to be seen round thecircular table at Offley's every night, between the hours of half-past eight and half-past eleven. We have lost sight of them forsome time. There were, and may be still, for aught we know, twosplendid specimens in full blossom at the Rainbow Tavern in Fleet-street, who always used to sit in the box nearest the fireplace, and smoked long cherry-stick pipes which went under the table, withthe bowls resting on the floor. Grand old boys they were--fat, red-faced, white-headed old fellows--always there--one on one sidethe table, and the other opposite--puffing and drinking away ingreat state. Everybody knew them, and it was supposed by somepeople that they were both immortal. 

Mr. John Dounce was an old boy of the latter class (we don't meanimmortal, but steady), a retired glove and braces maker, a widower, resident with three daughters--all grown up, and all unmarried--inCursitor-street, Chancery-lane. He was a short, round, large-faced, tubbish sort of man, with a broad-brimmed hat, and a squarecoat; and had that grave, but confident, kind of roll, peculiar toold boys in general. Regular as clockwork--breakfast at nine--dress and tittivate a little--down to the Sir Somebody's Head--aglass of ale and the paper--come back again, and take daughters outfor a walk--dinner at three--glass of grog and pipe--nap--tea--little walk--Sir Somebody's Head again--capital house--delightfulevenings. There were Mr. Harris, the law-stationer, and Mr. Jennings, the robe-maker (two jolly young fellows like himself), and Jones, the barrister's clerk--rum fellow that Jones--capitalcompany--full of anecdote!--and there they sat every night tilljust ten minutes before twelve, drinking their brandy-and-water, and smoking their pipes, and telling stories, and enjoyingthemselves with a kind of solemn joviality particularly edifying. 

Sometimes Jones would propose a half-price visit to Drury Lane orCovent Garden, to see two acts of a five-act play, and a new farce, perhaps, or a ballet, on which occasions the whole four of themwent together: none of your hurrying and nonsense, but havingtheir brandy-and-water first, comfortably, and ordering a steak andsome oysters for their supper against they came back, and thenwalking coolly into the pit, when the 'rush' had gone in, as allsensible people do, and did when Mr. Dounce was a young man, exceptwhen the celebrated Master Betty was at the height of hispopularity, and then, sir, --then--Mr. Dounce perfectly wellremembered getting a holiday from business; and going to the pitdoors at eleven o'clock in the forenoon, and waiting there, tillsix in the afternoon, with some sandwiches in a pocket-handkerchiefand some wine in a phial; and fainting after all, with the heat andfatigue, before the play began; in which situation he was liftedout of the pit, into one of the dress boxes, sir, by five of thefinest women of that day, sir, who compassionated his situation andadministered restoratives, and sent a black servant, six foot high, in blue and silver livery, next morning with their compliments, andto know how he found himself, sir--by G-! Between the acts Mr. Dounce and Mr. Harris, and Mr. Jennings, used to stand up, and lookround the house, and Jones--knowing fellow that Jones--kneweverybody--pointed out the fashionable and celebrated Lady So-and-So in the boxes, at the mention of whose name Mr. Dounce, afterbrushing up his hair, and adjusting his neckerchief, would inspectthe aforesaid Lady So-and-So through an immense glass, and remark, either, that she was a 'fine woman--very fine woman, indeed, ' orthat 'there might be a little more of her, eh, Jones?' Just as thecase might happen to be. When the dancing began, John Dounce andthe other old boys were particularly anxious to see what was goingforward on the stage, and Jones--wicked dog that Jones--whisperedlittle critical remarks into the ears of John Dounce, which JohnDounce retailed to Mr. Harris and Mr. Harris to Mr. Jennings; andthen they all four laughed, until the tears ran down out of theireyes. 

When the curtain fell, they walked back together, two and two, tothe steaks and oysters; and when they came to the second glass ofbrandy-and-water, Jones--hoaxing scamp, that Jones--used to recounthow he had observed a lady in white feathers, in one of the pitboxes, gazing intently on Mr. Dounce all the evening, and how hehad caught Mr. Dounce, whenever he thought no one was looking athim, bestowing ardent looks of intense devotion on the lady inreturn; on which Mr. Harris and Mr. Jennings used to laugh veryheartily, and John Dounce more heartily than either of them, acknowledging, however, that the time HAD been when he MIGHT havedone such things; upon which Mr. Jones used to poke him in theribs, and tell him he had been a sad dog in his time, which JohnDounce with chuckles confessed. And after Mr. Harris and Mr. Jennings had preferred their claims to the character of having beensad dogs too, they separated harmoniously, and trotted home. 

The decrees of Fate, and the means by which they are brought about, are mysterious and inscrutable. John Dounce had led this life fortwenty years and upwards, without wish for change, or care forvariety, when his whole social system was suddenly upset and turnedcompletely topsy-turvy--not by an earthquake, or some otherdreadful convulsion of nature, as the reader would be inclined tosuppose, but by the simple agency of an oyster; and thus ithappened. 

Mr. John Dounce was returning one night from the Sir Somebody'sHead, to his residence in Cursitor-street--not tipsy, but ratherexcited, for it was Mr. Jennings's birthday, and they had had abrace of partridges for supper, and a brace of extra glassesafterwards, and Jones had been more than ordinarily amusing--whenhis eyes rested on a newly-opened oyster-shop, on a magnificentscale, with natives laid, one deep, in circular marble basins inthe windows, together with little round barrels of oysters directedto Lords and Baronets, and Colonels and Captains, in every part ofthe habitable globe. 

Behind the natives were the barrels, and behind the barrels was ayoung lady of about five-and-twenty, all in blue, and all alone--splendid creature, charming face and lovely figure! It isdifficult to say whether Mr. John Dounce's red countenance, illuminated as it was by the flickering gas-light in the windowbefore which he paused, excited the lady's risibility, or whether anatural exuberance of animal spirits proved too much for thatstaidness of demeanour which the forms of society ratherdictatorially prescribe. But certain it is, that the lady smiled;then put her finger upon her lip, with a striking recollection ofwhat was due to herself; and finally retired, in oyster-likebashfulness, to the very back of the counter. The sad-dog sort offeeling came strongly upon John Dounce: he lingered--the lady inblue made no sign. He coughed--still she came not. He entered theshop. 

'Can you open me an oyster, my dear?' said Mr. John Dounce. 

'Dare say I can, sir, ' replied the lady in blue, with playfulness. And Mr. John Dounce eat one oyster, and then looked at the younglady, and then eat another, and then squeezed the young lady's handas she was opening the third, and so forth, until he had devoured adozen of those at eightpence in less than no time. 

'Can you open me half-a-dozen more, my dear?' inquired Mr. JohnDounce. 

'I'll see what I can do for you, sir, ' replied the young lady inblue, even more bewitchingly than before; and Mr. John Dounce eathalf-a-dozen more of those at eightpence. 

'You couldn't manage to get me a glass of brandy-and-water, mydear, I suppose?' said Mr. John Dounce, when he had finished theoysters: in a tone which clearly implied his supposition that shecould. 

'I'll see, sir, ' said the young lady: and away she ran out of theshop, and down the street, her long auburn ringlets shaking in thewind in the most enchanting manner; and back she came again, tripping over the coal-cellar lids like a whipping-top, with atumbler of brandy-and-water, which Mr. John Dounce insisted on hertaking a share of, as it was regular ladies' grog--hot, strong, sweet, and plenty of it. 

So, the young lady sat down with Mr. John Dounce, in a little redbox with a green curtain, and took a small sip of the brandy-and-water, and a small look at Mr. John Dounce, and then turned herhead away, and went through various other serio-pantomimicfascinations, which forcibly reminded Mr. John Dounce of the firsttime he courted his first wife, and which made him feel moreaffectionate than ever; in pursuance of which affection, andactuated by which feeling, Mr. John Dounce sounded the young ladyon her matrimonial engagements, when the young lady denied havingformed any such engagements at all--she couldn't abear the men, they were such deceivers; thereupon Mr. John Dounce inquiredwhether this sweeping condemnation was meant to include other thanvery young men; on which the young lady blushed deeply--at leastshe turned away her head, and said Mr. John Dounce had made herblush, so of course she DID blush--and Mr. John Dounce was a longtime drinking the brandy-and-water; and, at last, John Dounce wenthome to bed, and dreamed of his first wife, and his second wife, and the young lady, and partridges, and oysters, and brandy-and-water, and disinterested attachments. 

The next morning, John Dounce was rather feverish with the extrabrandy-and-water of the previous night; and, partly in the hope ofcooling himself with an oyster, and partly with the view ofascertaining whether he owed the young lady anything, or not, wentback to the oyster-shop. If the young lady had appeared beautifulby night, she was perfectly irresistible by day; and, from thistime forward, a change came over the spirit of John Dounce's dream. He bought shirt-pins; wore a ring on his third finger; read poetry;bribed a cheap miniature-painter to perpetrate a faint resemblanceto a youthful face, with a curtain over his head, six large booksin the background, and an open country in the distance (this hecalled his portrait); 'went on' altogether in such an uproariousmanner, that the three Miss Dounces went off on small pensions, hehaving made the tenement in Cursitor-street too warm to containthem; and in short, comported and demeaned himself in every respectlike an unmitigated old Saracen, as he was. 

As to his ancient friends, the other old boys, at the SirSomebody's Head, he dropped off from them by gradual degrees; for, even when he did go there, Jones--vulgar fellow that Jones--persisted in asking 'when it was to be?' and 'whether he was tohave any gloves?' together with other inquiries of an equallyoffensive nature: at which not only Harris laughed, but Jenningsalso; so, he cut the two, altogether, and attached himself solelyto the blue young lady at the smart oyster-shop. 

Now comes the moral of the story--for it has a moral after all. The last-mentioned young lady, having derived sufficient profit andemolument from John Dounce's attachment, not only refused, whenmatters came to a crisis, to take him for better for worse, butexpressly declared, to use her own forcible words, that she'wouldn't have him at no price;' and John Dounce, having lost hisold friends, alienated his relations, and rendered himselfridiculous to everybody, made offers successively to aschoolmistress, a landlady, a feminine tobacconist, and ahousekeeper; and, being directly rejected by each and every ofthem, was accepted by his cook, with whom he now lives, a henpeckedhusband, a melancholy monument of antiquated misery, and a livingwarning to all uxorious old boys. 

CHAPTER VIII--THE MISTAKEN MILLINER. A TALE OF AMBITION

Miss Amelia Martin was pale, tallish, thin, and two-and-thirty--what ill-natured people would call plain, and police reportsinteresting. She was a milliner and dressmaker, living on herbusiness and not above it. If you had been a young lady inservice, and had wanted Miss Martin, as a great many young ladiesin service did, you would just have stepped up, in the evening, tonumber forty-seven, Drummond-street, George-street, Euston-square, and after casting your eye on a brass door-plate, one foot ten byone and a half, ornamented with a great brass knob at each of thefour corners, and bearing the inscription 'Miss Martin; millineryand dressmaking, in all its branches;' you'd just have knocked twoloud knocks at the street-door; and down would have come MissMartin herself, in a merino gown of the newest fashion, blackvelvet bracelets on the genteelest principle, and other littleelegancies of the most approved description. 

If Miss Martin knew the young lady who called, or if the young ladywho called had been recommended by any other young lady whom MissMartin knew, Miss Martin would forthwith show her up-stairs intothe two-pair front, and chat she would--SO kind, and SOcomfortable--it really wasn't like a matter of business, she was sofriendly; and, then Miss Martin, after contemplating the figure andgeneral appearance of the young lady in service with great apparentadmiration, would say how well she would look, to be sure, in a lowdress with short sleeves; made very full in the skirts, with fourtucks in the bottom; to which the young lady in service would replyin terms expressive of her entire concurrence in the notion, and ofthe virtuous indignation with which she reflected on the tyranny of'Missis, ' who wouldn't allow a young girl to wear a short sleeve ofan arternoon--no, nor nothing smart, not even a pair of ear-rings;let alone hiding people's heads of hair under them frightful caps. At the termination of this complaint, Miss Amelia Martin woulddistantly suggest certain dark suspicions that some people werejealous on account of their own daughters, and were obliged to keeptheir servants' charms under, for fear they should get marriedfirst, which was no uncommon circumstance--leastways she had knowntwo or three young ladies in service, who had married a great dealbetter than their missises, and THEY were not very good-lookingeither; and then the young lady would inform Miss Martin, inconfidence, that how one of their young ladies was engaged to ayoung man and was a-going to be married, and Missis was so proudabout it there was no bearing of her; but how she needn't hold herhead quite so high neither, for, after all, he was only a clerk. And, after expressing due contempt for clerks in general, and theengaged clerk in particular, and the highest opinion possible ofthemselves and each other, Miss Martin and the young lady inservice would bid each other good night, in a friendly butperfectly genteel manner: and the one went back to her 'place, 'and the other, to her room on the second-floor front. 

There is no saying how long Miss Amelia Martin might have continuedthis course of life; how extensive a connection she might haveestablished among young ladies in service; or what amount herdemands upon their quarterly receipts might have ultimatelyattained, had not an unforeseen train of circumstances directed herthoughts to a sphere of action very different from dressmaking ormillinery. 

A friend of Miss Martin's who had long been keeping company with anornamental painter and decorator's journeyman, at last consented(on being at last asked to do so) to name the day which would makethe aforesaid journeyman a happy husband. It was a Monday that wasappointed for the celebration of the nuptials, and Miss AmeliaMartin was invited, among others, to honour the wedding-dinner withher presence. It was a charming party; Somers-town the locality, and a front parlour the apartment. The ornamental painter anddecorator's journeyman had taken a house--no lodgings nor vulgarityof that kind, but a house--four beautiful rooms, and a delightfullittle washhouse at the end of the passage--which was the mostconvenient thing in the world, for the bridesmaids could sit in thefront parlour and receive the company, and then run into the littlewashhouse and see how the pudding and boiled pork were getting onin the copper, and then pop back into the parlour again, as snugand comfortable as possible. And such a parlour as it was!Beautiful Kidderminster carpet--six bran-new cane-bottomed stainedchairs--three wine-glasses and a tumbler on each sideboard--farmer's girl and farmer's boy on the mantelpiece: girl tumblingover a stile, and boy spitting himself, on the handle of apitchfork--long white dimity curtains in the window--and, in short, everything on the most genteel scale imaginable. 

Then, the dinner. There was baked leg of mutton at the top, boiledleg of mutton at the bottom, pair of fowls and leg of pork in themiddle; porter-pots at the corners; pepper, mustard, and vinegar inthe centre; vegetables on the floor; and plum-pudding and apple-pieand tartlets without number: to say nothing of cheese, and celery, and water-cresses, and all that sort of thing. As to the Company!Miss Amelia Martin herself declared, on a subsequent occasion, that, much as she had heard of the ornamental painter'sjourneyman's connexion, she never could have supposed it was halfso genteel. There was his father, such a funny old gentleman--andhis mother, such a dear old lady--and his sister, such a charminggirl--and his brother, such a manly-looking young man--with such aeye! But even all these were as nothing when compared with hismusical friends, Mr. And Mrs. Jennings Rodolph, from White Conduit, with whom the ornamental painter's journeyman had been fortunateenough to contract an intimacy while engaged in decorating theconcert-room of that noble institution. To hear them singseparately, was divine, but when they went through the tragic duetof 'Red Ruffian, retire!' it was, as Miss Martin afterwardsremarked, 'thrilling. ' And why (as Mr. Jennings Rodolph observed)why were they not engaged at one of the patent theatres? If he wasto be told that their voices were not powerful enough to fill theHouse, his only reply was, that he would back himself for anyamount to fill Russell-square--a statement in which the company, after hearing the duet, expressed their full belief; so they allsaid it was shameful treatment; and both Mr. And Mrs. JenningsRodolph said it was shameful too; and Mr. Jennings Rodolph lookedvery serious, and said he knew who his malignant opponents were, but they had better take care how far they went, for if theyirritated him too much he had not quite made up his mind whether hewouldn't bring the subject before Parliament; and they all agreedthat it ''ud serve 'em quite right, and it was very proper thatsuch people should be made an example of. ' So Mr. Jennings Rodolphsaid he'd think of it. 

When the conversation resumed its former tone, Mr. Jennings Rodolphclaimed his right to call upon a lady, and the right beingconceded, trusted Miss Martin would favour the company--a proposalwhich met with unanimous approbation, whereupon Miss Martin, aftersundry hesitatings and coughings, with a preparatory choke or two, and an introductory declaration that she was frightened to death toattempt it before such great judges of the art, commenced a speciesof treble chirruping containing frequent allusions to some younggentleman of the name of Hen-e-ry, with an occasional reference tomadness and broken hearts. Mr. Jennings Rodolph frequentlyinterrupted the progress of the song, by ejaculating 'Beautiful!'--'Charming!'--'Brilliant!'--'Oh! splendid, ' &c. ; and at its closethe admiration of himself, and his lady, knew no bounds. 

'Did you ever hear so sweet a voice, my dear?' inquired Mr. Jennings Rodolph of Mrs. Jennings Rodolph. 

'Never; indeed I never did, love, ' replied Mrs. Jennings Rodolph. 

'Don't you think Miss Martin, with a little cultivation, would bevery like Signora Marra Boni, my dear?' asked Mr. Jennings Rodolph. 

'Just exactly the very thing that struck me, my love, ' answeredMrs. Jennings Rodolph. 

And thus the time passed away; Mr. Jennings Rodolph played tunes ona walking-stick, and then went behind the parlour-door and gave hiscelebrated imitations of actors, edge-tools, and animals; MissMartin sang several other songs with increased admiration everytime; and even the funny old gentleman began singing. His song hadproperly seven verses, but as he couldn't recollect more than thefirst one, he sang that over seven times, apparently very much tohis own personal gratification. And then all the company sang thenational anthem with national independence--each for himself, without reference to the other--and finally separated: alldeclaring that they never had spent so pleasant an evening: andMiss Martin inwardly resolving to adopt the advice of Mr. JenningsRodolph, and to 'come out' without delay. 

Now, 'coming out, ' either in acting, or singing, or society, orfacetiousness, or anything else, is all very well, and remarkablypleasant to the individual principally concerned, if he or she canbut manage to come out with a burst, and being out, to keep out, and not go in again; but, it does unfortunately happen that bothconsummations are extremely difficult to accomplish, and that thedifficulties, of getting out at all in the first instance, and ifyou surmount them, of keeping out in the second, are pretty much ona par, and no slight ones either--and so Miss Amelia Martin shortlydiscovered. It is a singular fact (there being ladies in the case)that Miss Amelia Martin's principal foible was vanity, and theleading characteristic of Mrs. Jennings Rodolph an attachment todress. Dismal wailings were heard to issue from the second-floorfront of number forty-seven, Drummond-street, George-street, Euston-square; it was Miss Martin practising. Half-suppressedmurmurs disturbed the calm dignity of the White Conduit orchestraat the commencement of the season. It was the appearance of Mrs. Jennings Rodolph in full dress, that occasioned them. Miss Martinstudied incessantly--the practising was the consequence. Mrs. Jennings Rodolph taught gratuitously now and then--the dresses werethe result. 

Weeks passed away; the White Conduit season had begun, andprogressed, and was more than half over. The dressmaking businesshad fallen off, from neglect; and its profits had dwindled awayalmost imperceptibly. A benefit-night approached; Mr. JenningsRodolph yielded to the earnest solicitations of Miss Amelia Martin, and introduced her personally to the 'comic gentleman' whosebenefit it was. The comic gentleman was all smiles and blandness--he had composed a duet, expressly for the occasion, and Miss Martinshould sing it with him. The night arrived; there was an immenseroom--ninety-seven sixpenn'orths of gin-and-water, thirty-two smallglasses of brandy-and-water, five-and-twenty bottled ales, andforty-one neguses; and the ornamental painter's journeyman, withhis wife and a select circle of acquaintance, were seated at one ofthe side-tables near the orchestra. The concert began. Song--sentimental--by a light-haired young gentleman in a blue coat, andbright basket buttons--[applause]. Another song, doubtful, byanother gentleman in another blue coat and more bright basketbuttons--[increased applause]. Duet, Mr. Jennings Rodolph, andMrs. Jennings Rodolph, 'Red Ruffian, retire!'--[great applause]. Solo, Miss Julia Montague (positively on this occasion only)--'I ama Friar'--[enthusiasm]. Original duet, comic--Mr. H. Taplin (thecomic gentleman) and Miss Martin--'The Time of Day. ' 'Brayvo!--Brayvo!' cried the ornamental painter's journeyman's party, as MissMartin was gracefully led in by the comic gentleman. 'Go to work, Harry, ' cried the comic gentleman's personal friends. 'Tap-tap-tap, ' went the leader's bow on the music-desk. The symphony began, and was soon afterwards followed by a faint kind of ventriloquialchirping, proceeding apparently from the deepest recesses of theinterior of Miss Amelia Martin. 'Sing out'--shouted one gentlemanin a white great-coat. 'Don't be afraid to put the steam on, oldgal, ' exclaimed another, 'S-s-s-s-s-s-s'-went the five-and-twentybottled ales. 'Shame, shame!' remonstrated the ornamentalpainter's journeyman's party--'S-s-s-s' went the bottled alesagain, accompanied by all the gins, and a majority of the brandies. 

'Turn them geese out, ' cried the ornamental painter's journeyman'sparty, with great indignation. 

'Sing out, ' whispered Mr. Jennings Rodolph. 

'So I do, ' responded Miss Amelia Martin. 

'Sing louder, ' said Mrs. Jennings Rodolph. 

'I can't, ' replied Miss Amelia Martin. 

'Off, off, off, ' cried the rest of the audience. 

'Bray-vo!' shouted the painter's party. It wouldn't do--MissAmelia Martin left the orchestra, with much less ceremony than shehad entered it; and, as she couldn't sing out, never came out. Thegeneral good humour was not restored until Mr. Jennings Rodolph hadbecome purple in the face, by imitating divers quadrupeds for halfan hour, without being able to render himself audible; and, to thisday, neither has Miss Amelia Martin's good humour been restored, nor the dresses made for and presented to Mrs. Jennings Rodolph, nor the local abilities which Mr. Jennings Rodolph once staked hisprofessional reputation that Miss Martin possessed. 

CHAPTER IX--THE DANCING ACADEMY

Of all the dancing academies that ever were established, therenever was one more popular in its immediate vicinity than SignorBillsmethi's, of the 'King's Theatre. ' It was not in Spring-gardens, or Newman-street, or Berners-street, or Gower-street, orCharlotte-street, or Percy-street, or any other of the numerousstreets which have been devoted time out of mind to professionalpeople, dispensaries, and boarding-houses; it was not in the West-end at all--it rather approximated to the eastern portion ofLondon, being situated in the populous and improving neighbourhoodof Gray's-inn-lane. It was not a dear dancing academy--four-and-sixpence a quarter is decidedly cheap upon the whole. It was VERYselect, the number of pupils being strictly limited to seventy-five, and a quarter's payment in advance being rigidly exacted. There was public tuition and private tuition--an assembly-room anda parlour. Signor Billsmethi's family were always thrown in withthe parlour, and included in parlour price; that is to say, aprivate pupil had Signor Billsmethi's parlour to dance IN, andSignor Billsmethi's family to dance WITH; and when he had beensufficiently broken in in the parlour, he began to run in couplesin the assembly-room. 

Such was the dancing academy of Signor Billsmethi, when Mr. Augustus Cooper, of Fetter-lane, first saw an unstampedadvertisement walking leisurely down Holborn-hill, announcing tothe world that Signor Billsmethi, of the King's Theatre, intendedopening for the season with a Grand Ball. 

Now, Mr. Augustus Cooper was in the oil and colour line--just ofage, with a little money, a little business, and a little mother, who, having managed her husband and HIS business in his lifetime, took to managing her son and HIS business after his decease; andso, somehow or other, he had been cooped up in the little backparlour behind the shop on week-days, and in a little deal boxwithout a lid (called by courtesy a pew) at Bethel Chapel, onSundays, and had seen no more of the world than if he had been aninfant all his days; whereas Young White, at the gas-fitter's overthe way, three years younger than him, had been flaring away likewinkin'--going to the theatre--supping at harmonic meetings--eatingoysters by the barrel--drinking stout by the gallon--even out allnight, and coming home as cool in the morning as if nothing hadhappened. So Mr. Augustus Cooper made up his mind that he wouldnot stand it any longer, and had that very morning expressed to hismother a firm determination to be 'blowed, ' in the event of his notbeing instantly provided with a street-door key. And he waswalking down Holborn-hill, thinking about all these things, andwondering how he could manage to get introduced into genteelsociety for the first time, when his eyes rested on SignorBillsmethi's announcement, which it immediately struck him was justthe very thing he wanted; for he should not only be able to selecta genteel circle of acquaintance at once, out of the five-and-seventy pupils at four-and-sixpence a quarter, but should qualifyhimself at the same time to go through a hornpipe in privatesociety, with perfect ease to himself and great delight to hisfriends. So, he stopped the unstamped advertisement--an animatedsandwich, composed of a boy between two boards--and having procureda very small card with the Signor's address indented thereon, walked straight at once to the Signor's house--and very fast hewalked too, for fear the list should be filled up, and the five-and-seventy completed, before he got there. The Signor was athome, and, what was still more gratifying, he was an Englishman!Such a nice man--and so polite! The list was not full, but it wasa most extraordinary circumstance that there was only just onevacancy, and even that one would have been filled up, that verymorning, only Signor Billsmethi was dissatisfied with thereference, and, being very much afraid that the lady wasn't select, wouldn't take her. 

'And very much delighted I am, Mr. Cooper, ' said Signor Billsmethi, 'that I did NOT take her. I assure you, Mr. Cooper--I don't say itto flatter you, for I know you're above it--that I consider myselfextremely fortunate in having a gentleman of your manners andappearance, sir. '

'I am very glad of it too, sir, ' said Augustus Cooper. 

'And I hope we shall be better acquainted, sir, ' said SignorBillsmethi. 

'And I'm sure I hope we shall too, sir, ' responded Augustus Cooper. Just then, the door opened, and in came a young lady, with her haircurled in a crop all over her head, and her shoes tied in sandalsall over her ankles. 

'Don't run away, my dear, ' said Signor Billsmethi; for the younglady didn't know Mr. Cooper was there when she ran in, and wasgoing to run out again in her modesty, all in confusion-like. 'Don't run away, my dear, ' said Signor Billsmethi, 'this is Mr. Cooper--Mr. Cooper, of Fetter-lane. Mr. Cooper, my daughter, sir--Miss Billsmethi, sir, who I hope will have the pleasure of dancingmany a quadrille, minuet, gavotte, country-dance, fandango, double-hornpipe, and farinagholkajingo with you, sir. She dances themall, sir; and so shall you, sir, before you're a quarter older, sir. '

And Signor Bellsmethi slapped Mr. Augustus Cooper on the back, asif he had known him a dozen years, --so friendly;--and Mr. Cooperbowed to the young lady, and the young lady curtseyed to him, andSignor Billsmethi said they were as handsome a pair as ever he'dwish to see; upon which the young lady exclaimed, 'Lor, pa!' andblushed as red as Mr. Cooper himself--you might have thought theywere both standing under a red lamp at a chemist's shop; and beforeMr. Cooper went away it was settled that he should join the familycircle that very night--taking them just as they were--no ceremonynor nonsense of that kind--and learn his positions in order that hemight lose no time, and be able to come out at the forthcomingball. 

Well; Mr. Augustus Cooper went away to one of the cheap shoemakers'shops in Holborn, where gentlemen's dress-pumps are seven-and-sixpence, and men's strong walking just nothing at all, and boughta pair of the regular seven-and-sixpenny, long-quartered, town-mades, in which he astonished himself quite as much as his mother, and sallied forth to Signor Billsmethi's. There were four otherprivate pupils in the parlour: two ladies and two gentlemen. Suchnice people! Not a bit of pride about them. One of the ladies inparticular, who was in training for a Columbine, was remarkablyaffable; and she and Miss Billsmethi took such an interest in Mr. Augustus Cooper, and joked, and smiled, and looked so bewitching, that he got quite at home, and learnt his steps in no time. Afterthe practising was over, Signor Billsmethi, and Miss Billsmethi, and Master Billsmethi, and a young lady, and the two ladies, andthe two gentlemen, danced a quadrille--none of your slipping andsliding about, but regular warm work, flying into corners, anddiving among chairs, and shooting out at the door, --something likedancing! Signor Billsmethi in particular, notwithstanding hishaving a little fiddle to play all the time, was out on the landingevery figure, and Master Billsmethi, when everybody else wasbreathless, danced a hornpipe, with a cane in his hand, and acheese-plate on his head, to the unqualified admiration of thewhole company. Then, Signor Billsmethi insisted, as they were sohappy, that they should all stay to supper, and proposed sendingMaster Billsmethi for the beer and spirits, whereupon the twogentlemen swore, 'strike 'em wulgar if they'd stand that;' and werejust going to quarrel who should pay for it, when Mr. AugustusCooper said he would, if they'd have the kindness to allow him--andthey HAD the kindness to allow him; and Master Billsmethi broughtthe beer in a can, and the rum in a quart pot. They had a regularnight of it; and Miss Billsmethi squeezed Mr. Augustus Cooper'shand under the table; and Mr. Augustus Cooper returned the squeeze, and returned home too, at something to six o'clock in the morning, when he was put to bed by main force by the apprentice, afterrepeatedly expressing an uncontrollable desire to pitch his reveredparent out of the second-floor window, and to throttle theapprentice with his own neck-handkerchief. 

Weeks had worn on, and the seven-and-sixpenny town-mades had nearlyworn out, when the night arrived for the grand dress-ball at whichthe whole of the five-and-seventy pupils were to meet together, forthe first time that season, and to take out some portion of theirrespective four-and-sixpences in lamp-oil and fiddlers. Mr. Augustus Cooper had ordered a new coat for the occasion--a two-pound-tenner from Turnstile. It was his first appearance inpublic; and, after a grand Sicilian shawl-dance by fourteen youngladies in character, he was to open the quadrille department withMiss Billsmethi herself, with whom he had become quite intimatesince his first introduction. It WAS a night! Everything wasadmirably arranged. The sandwich-boy took the hats and bonnets atthe street-door; there was a turn-up bedstead in the back parlour, on which Miss Billsmethi made tea and coffee for such of thegentlemen as chose to pay for it, and such of the ladies as thegentlemen treated; red port-wine negus and lemonade were handedround at eighteen-pence a head; and in pursuance of a previousengagement with the public-house at the corner of the street, anextra potboy was laid on for the occasion. In short, nothing couldexceed the arrangements, except the company. Such ladies! Suchpink silk stockings! Such artificial flowers! Such a number ofcabs! No sooner had one cab set down a couple of ladies, thananother cab drove up and set down another couple of ladies, andthey all knew: not only one another, but the majority of thegentlemen into the bargain, which made it all as pleasant andlively as could be. Signor Billsmethi, in black tights, with alarge blue bow in his buttonhole, introduced the ladies to such ofthe gentlemen as were strangers: and the ladies talked away--andlaughed they did--it was delightful to see them. 

As to the shawl-dance, it was the most exciting thing that ever wasbeheld; there was such a whisking, and rustling, and fanning, andgetting ladies into a tangle with artificial flowers, and thendisentangling them again! And as to Mr. Augustus Cooper's share inthe quadrille, he got through it admirably. He was missing fromhis partner, now and then, certainly, and discovered on suchoccasions to be either dancing with laudable perseverance inanother set, or sliding about in perspective, without any definiteobject; but, generally speaking, they managed to shove him throughthe figure, until he turned up in the right place. Be this as itmay, when he had finished, a great many ladies and gentlemen cameup and complimented him very much, and said they had never seen abeginner do anything like it before; and Mr. Augustus Cooper wasperfectly satisfied with himself, and everybody else into thebargain; and 'stood' considerable quantities of spirits-and-water, negus, and compounds, for the use and behoof of two or three dozenvery particular friends, selected from the select circle of five-and-seventy pupils. 

Now, whether it was the strength of the compounds, or the beauty ofthe ladies, or what not, it did so happen that Mr. Augustus Cooperencouraged, rather than repelled, the very flattering attentions ofa young lady in brown gauze over white calico who had appearedparticularly struck with him from the first; and when theencouragements had been prolonged for some time, Miss Billsmethibetrayed her spite and jealousy thereat by calling the young ladyin brown gauze a 'creeter, ' which induced the young lady in browngauze to retort, in certain sentences containing a taunt founded onthe payment of four-and-sixpence a quarter, which reference Mr. Augustus Cooper, being then and there in a state of considerablebewilderment, expressed his entire concurrence in. MissBillsmethi, thus renounced, forthwith began screaming in theloudest key of her voice, at the rate of fourteen screams a minute;and being unsuccessful, in an onslaught on the eyes and face, firstof the lady in gauze and then of Mr. Augustus Cooper, calleddistractedly on the other three-and-seventy pupils to furnish herwith oxalic acid for her own private drinking; and, the call notbeing honoured, made another rush at Mr. Cooper, and then had herstay-lace cut, and was carried off to bed. Mr. Augustus Cooper, not being remarkable for quickness of apprehension, was at a lossto understand what all this meant, until Signor Billsmethiexplained it in a most satisfactory manner, by stating to thepupils, that Mr. Augustus Cooper had made and confirmed diverspromises of marriage to his daughter on divers occasions, and hadnow basely deserted her; on which, the indignation of the pupilsbecame universal; and as several chivalrous gentlemen inquiredrather pressingly of Mr. Augustus Cooper, whether he requiredanything for his own use, or, in other words, whether he 'wantedanything for himself, ' he deemed it prudent to make a precipitateretreat. And the upshot of the matter was, that a lawyer's lettercame next day, and an action was commenced next week; and that Mr. Augustus Cooper, after walking twice to the Serpentine for thepurpose of drowning himself, and coming twice back without doingit, made a confidante of his mother, who compromised the matterwith twenty pounds from the till: which made twenty pounds fourshillings and sixpence paid to Signor Billsmethi, exclusive oftreats and pumps. And Mr. Augustus Cooper went back and lived withhis mother, and there he lives to this day; and as he has lost hisambition for society, and never goes into the world, he will neversee this account of himself, and will never be any the wiser. 

CHAPTER X--SHABBY-GENTEEL PEOPLE

There are certain descriptions of people who, oddly enough, appearto appertain exclusively to the metropolis. You meet them, everyday, in the streets of London, but no one ever encounters themelsewhere; they seem indigenous to the soil, and to belong asexclusively to London as its own smoke, or the dingy bricks andmortar. We could illustrate the remark by a variety of examples, but, in our present sketch, we will only advert to one class as aspecimen--that class which is so aptly and expressively designatedas 'shabby-genteel. '

Now, shabby people, God knows, may be found anywhere, and genteelpeople are not articles of greater scarcity out of London than init; but this compound of the two--this shabby-gentility--is aspurely local as the statue at Charing-cross, or the pump atAldgate. It is worthy of remark, too, that only men are shabby-genteel; a woman is always either dirty and slovenly in theextreme, or neat and respectable, however poverty-stricken inappearance. A very poor man, 'who has seen better days, ' as thephrase goes, is a strange compound of dirty-slovenliness andwretched attempts at faded smartness. 

We will endeavour to explain our conception of the term which formsthe title of this paper. If you meet a man, lounging up Drury-Lane, or leaning with his back against a post in Long-acre, withhis hands in the pockets of a pair of drab trousers plentifullybesprinkled with grease-spots: the trousers made very full overthe boots, and ornamented with two cords down the outside of eachleg--wearing, also, what has been a brown coat with bright buttons, and a hat very much pinched up at the side, cocked over his righteye--don't pity him. He is not shabby-genteel. The 'harmonicmeetings' at some fourth-rate public-house, or the purlieus of aprivate theatre, are his chosen haunts; he entertains a rootedantipathy to any kind of work, and is on familiar terms withseveral pantomime men at the large houses. But, if you seehurrying along a by-street, keeping as close as he can to the area-railings, a man of about forty or fifty, clad in an old rusty suitof threadbare black cloth which shines with constant wear as if ithad been bees-waxed--the trousers tightly strapped down, partly forthe look of the thing and partly to keep his old shoes fromslipping off at the heels, --if you observe, too, that hisyellowish-white neckerchief is carefully pinned up, to conceal thetattered garment underneath, and that his hands are encased in theremains of an old pair of beaver gloves, you may set him down as ashabby-genteel man. A glance at that depressed face, and timorousair of conscious poverty, will make your heart ache--alwayssupposing that you are neither a philosopher nor a politicaleconomist. 

We were once haunted by a shabby-genteel man; he was bodily presentto our senses all day, and he was in our mind's eye all night. Theman of whom Sir Walter Scott speaks in his Demonology, did notsuffer half the persecution from his imaginary gentleman-usher inblack velvet, that we sustained from our friend in quondam blackcloth. He first attracted our notice, by sitting opposite to us inthe reading-room at the British Museum; and what made the man moreremarkable was, that he always had before him a couple of shabby-genteel books--two old dog's-eared folios, in mouldy worm-eatencovers, which had once been smart. He was in his chair, everymorning, just as the clock struck ten; he was always the last toleave the room in the afternoon; and when he did, he quitted itwith the air of a man who knew not where else to go, for warmth andquiet. There he used to sit all day, as close to the table aspossible, in order to conceal the lack of buttons on his coat:with his old hat carefully deposited at his feet, where heevidently flattered himself it escaped observation. 

About two o'clock, you would see him munching a French roll or apenny loaf; not taking it boldly out of his pocket at once, like aman who knew he was only making a lunch; but breaking off littlebits in his pocket, and eating them by stealth. He knew too wellit was his dinner. 

When we first saw this poor object, we thought it quite impossiblethat his attire could ever become worse. We even went so far, asto speculate on the possibility of his shortly appearing in adecent second-hand suit. We knew nothing about the matter; he grewmore and more shabby-genteel every day. The buttons dropped offhis waistcoat, one by one; then, he buttoned his coat; and when oneside of the coat was reduced to the same condition as thewaistcoat, he buttoned it over--on the other side. He lookedsomewhat better at the beginning of the week than at theconclusion, because the neckerchief, though yellow, was not quiteso dingy; and, in the midst of all this wretchedness, he neverappeared without gloves and straps. He remained in this state fora week or two. At length, one of the buttons on the back of thecoat fell off, and then the man himself disappeared, and we thoughthe was dead. 

We were sitting at the same table about a week after hisdisappearance, and as our eyes rested on his vacant chair, weinsensibly fell into a train of meditation on the subject of hisretirement from public life. We were wondering whether he had hunghimself, or thrown himself off a bridge--whether he really was deador had only been arrested--when our conjectures were suddenly setat rest by the entry of the man himself. He had undergone somestrange metamorphosis, and walked up the centre of the room with anair which showed he was fully conscious of the improvement in hisappearance. It was very odd. His clothes were a fine, deep, glossy black; and yet they looked like the same suit; nay, therewere the very darns with which old acquaintance had made usfamiliar. The hat, too--nobody could mistake the shape of thathat, with its high crown gradually increasing in circumferencetowards the top. Long service had imparted to it a reddish-browntint; but, now, it was as black as the coat. The truth flashedsuddenly upon us--they had been 'revived. ' It is a deceitfulliquid that black and blue reviver; we have watched its effects onmany a shabby-genteel man. It betrays its victims into a temporaryassumption of importance: possibly into the purchase of a new pairof gloves, or a cheap stock, or some other trifling article ofdress. It elevates their spirits for a week, only to depress them, if possible, below their original level. It was so in this case;the transient dignity of the unhappy man decreased, in exactproportion as the 'reviver' wore off. The knees of theunmentionables, and the elbows of the coat, and the seamsgenerally, soon began to get alarmingly white. The hat was oncemore deposited under the table, and its owner crept into his seatas quietly as ever. 

There was a week of incessant small rain and mist. At itsexpiration the 'reviver' had entirely vanished, and the shabby-genteel man never afterwards attempted to effect any improvement inhis outward appearance. 

It would be difficult to name any particular part of town as theprincipal resort of shabby-genteel men. We have met a great manypersons of this description in the neighbourhood of the inns ofcourt. They may be met with, in Holborn, between eight and ten anymorning; and whoever has the curiosity to enter the InsolventDebtors' Court will observe, both among spectators andpractitioners, a great variety of them. We never went on 'Change, by any chance, without seeing some shabby-genteel men, and we haveoften wondered what earthly business they can have there. Theywill sit there, for hours, leaning on great, dropsical, mildewedumbrellas, or eating Abernethy biscuits. Nobody speaks to them, nor they to any one. On consideration, we remember to haveoccasionally seen two shabby-genteel men conversing together on'Change, but our experience assures us that this is an uncommoncircumstance, occasioned by the offer of a pinch of snuff, or somesuch civility. 

It would be a task of equal difficulty, either to assign anyparticular spot for the residence of these beings, or to endeavourto enumerate their general occupations. We were never engaged inbusiness with more than one shabby-genteel man; and he was adrunken engraver, and lived in a damp back-parlour in a new row ofhouses at Camden-town, half street, half brick-field, somewherenear the canal. A shabby-genteel man may have no occupation, or hemay be a corn agent, or a coal agent, or a wine merchant, or acollector of debts, or a broker's assistant, or a broken-downattorney. He may be a clerk of the lowest description, or acontributor to the press of the same grade. Whether our readershave noticed these men, in their walks, as often as we have, weknow not; this we know--that the miserably poor man (no matterwhether he owes his distresses to his own conduct, or that ofothers) who feels his poverty and vainly strives to conceal it, isone of the most pitiable objects in human nature. Such objects, with few exceptions, are shabby-genteel people. 

CHAPTER XI--MAKING A NIGHT OF IT

Damon and Pythias were undoubtedly very good fellows in their way:the former for his extreme readiness to put in special bail for afriend: and the latter for a certain trump-like punctuality inturning up just in the very nick of time, scarcely less remarkable. Many points in their character have, however, grown obsolete. Damons are rather hard to find, in these days of imprisonment fordebt (except the sham ones, and they cost half-a-crown); and, as tothe Pythiases, the few that have existed in these degenerate times, have had an unfortunate knack of making themselves scarce, at thevery moment when their appearance would have been strictlyclassical. If the actions of these heroes, however, can find noparallel in modern times, their friendship can. We have Damon andPythias on the one hand. We have Potter and Smithers on the other;and, lest the two last-mentioned names should never have reachedthe ears of our unenlightened readers, we can do no better thanmake them acquainted with the owners thereof. 

Mr. Thomas Potter, then, was a clerk in the city, and Mr. RobertSmithers was a ditto in the same; their incomes were limited, buttheir friendship was unbounded. They lived in the same street, walked into town every morning at the same hour, dined at the sameslap-bang every day, and revelled in each other's company verynight. They were knit together by the closest ties of intimacy andfriendship, or, as Mr. Thomas Potter touchingly observed, they were'thick-and-thin pals, and nothing but it. ' There was a spice ofromance in Mr. Smithers's disposition, a ray of poetry, a gleam ofmisery, a sort of consciousness of he didn't exactly know what, coming across him he didn't precisely know why--which stood out infine relief against the off-hand, dashing, amateur-pickpocket-sort-of-manner, which distinguished Mr. Potter in an eminent degree. 

The peculiarity of their respective dispositions, extended itselfto their individual costume. Mr. Smithers generally appeared inpublic in a surtout and shoes, with a narrow black neckerchief anda brown hat, very much turned up at the sides--peculiarities whichMr. Potter wholly eschewed, for it was his ambition to do somethingin the celebrated 'kiddy' or stage-coach way, and he had even goneso far as to invest capital in the purchase of a rough blue coatwith wooden buttons, made upon the fireman's principle, in which, with the addition of a low-crowned, flower-pot-saucer-shaped hat, he had created no inconsiderable sensation at the Albion in LittleRussell-street, and divers other places of public and fashionableresort. 

Mr. Potter and Mr. Smithers had mutually agreed that, on thereceipt of their quarter's salary, they would jointly and incompany 'spend the evening'--an evident misnomer--the spendingapplying, as everybody knows, not to the evening itself but to allthe money the individual may chance to be possessed of, on theoccasion to which reference is made; and they had likewise agreedthat, on the evening aforesaid, they would 'make a night of it'--anexpressive term, implying the borrowing of several hours from to-morrow morning, adding them to the night before, and manufacturinga compound night of the whole. 

The quarter-day arrived at last--we say at last, because quarter-days are as eccentric as comets: moving wonderfully quick when youhave a good deal to pay, and marvellously slow when you have alittle to receive. Mr. Thomas Potter and Mr. Robert Smithers metby appointment to begin the evening with a dinner; and a nice, snug, comfortable dinner they had, consisting of a littleprocession of four chops and four kidneys, following each other, supported on either side by a pot of the real draught stout, andattended by divers cushions of bread, and wedges of cheese. 

When the cloth was removed, Mr. Thomas Potter ordered the waiter tobring in, two goes of his best Scotch whiskey, with warm water andsugar, and a couple of his 'very mildest' Havannahs, which thewaiter did. Mr. Thomas Potter mixed his grog, and lighted hiscigar; Mr. Robert Smithers did the same; and then, Mr. ThomasPotter jocularly proposed as the first toast, 'the abolition of alloffices whatever' (not sinecures, but counting-houses), which wasimmediately drunk by Mr. Robert Smithers, with enthusiasticapplause. So they went on, talking politics, puffing cigars, andsipping whiskey-and-water, until the 'goes'--most appropriately socalled--were both gone, which Mr. Robert Smithers perceiving, immediately ordered in two more goes of the best Scotch whiskey, and two more of the very mildest Havannahs; and the goes keptcoming in, and the mild Havannahs kept going out, until, what withthe drinking, and lighting, and puffing, and the stale ashes on thetable, and the tallow-grease on the cigars, Mr. Robert Smithersbegan to doubt the mildness of the Havannahs, and to feel very muchas if he had been sitting in a hackney-coach with his back to thehorses. 

As to Mr. Thomas Potter, he WOULD keep laughing out loud, andvolunteering inarticulate declarations that he was 'all right;' inproof of which, he feebly bespoke the evening paper after the nextgentleman, but finding it a matter of some difficulty to discoverany news in its columns, or to ascertain distinctly whether it hadany columns at all, walked slowly out to look for the moon, and, after coming back quite pale with looking up at the sky so long, and attempting to express mirth at Mr. Robert Smithers havingfallen asleep, by various galvanic chuckles, laid his head on hisarm, and went to sleep also. When he awoke again, Mr. RobertSmithers awoke too, and they both very gravely agreed that it wasextremely unwise to eat so many pickled walnuts with the chops, asit was a notorious fact that they always made people queer andsleepy; indeed, if it had not been for the whiskey and cigars, there was no knowing what harm they mightn't have done 'em. Sothey took some coffee, and after paying the bill, --twelve andtwopence the dinner, and the odd tenpence for the waiter--thirteenshillings in all--started out on their expedition to manufacture anight. 

It was just half-past eight, so they thought they couldn't dobetter than go at half-price to the slips at the City Theatre, which they did accordingly. Mr. Robert Smithers, who had becomeextremely poetical after the settlement of the bill, enlivening thewalk by informing Mr. Thomas Potter in confidence that he felt aninward presentiment of approaching dissolution, and subsequentlyembellishing the theatre, by falling asleep with his head and botharms gracefully drooping over the front of the boxes. 

Such was the quiet demeanour of the unassuming Smithers, and suchwere the happy effects of Scotch whiskey and Havannahs on thatinteresting person! But Mr. Thomas Potter, whose great aim it wasto be considered as a 'knowing card, ' a 'fast-goer, ' and so forth, conducted himself in a very different manner, and commenced goingvery fast indeed--rather too fast at last, for the patience of theaudience to keep pace with him. On his first entry, he contentedhimself by earnestly calling upon the gentlemen in the gallery to'flare up, ' accompanying the demand with another request, expressive of his wish that they would instantaneously 'form aunion, ' both which requisitions were responded to, in the mannermost in vogue on such occasions. 

'Give that dog a bone!' cried one gentleman in his shirt-sleeves. 

'Where have you been a having half a pint of intermediate beer?'cried a second. 'Tailor!' screamed a third. 'Barber's clerk!'shouted a fourth. 'Throw him O-VER!' roared a fifth; whilenumerous voices concurred in desiring Mr. Thomas Potter to 'go hometo his mother!' All these taunts Mr. Thomas Potter received withsupreme contempt, cocking the low-crowned hat a little more on oneside, whenever any reference was made to his personal appearance, and, standing up with his arms a-kimbo, expressing defiancemelodramatically. 

The overture--to which these various sounds had been an ad libitumaccompaniment--concluded, the second piece began, and Mr. ThomasPotter, emboldened by impunity, proceeded to behave in a mostunprecedented and outrageous manner. First of all, he imitated theshake of the principal female singer; then, groaned at the bluefire; then, affected to be frightened into convulsions of terror atthe appearance of the ghost; and, lastly, not only made a runningcommentary, in an audible voice, upon the dialogue on the stage, but actually awoke Mr. Robert Smithers, who, hearing his companionmaking a noise, and having a very indistinct notion where he was, or what was required of him, immediately, by way of imitating agood example, set up the most unearthly, unremitting, and appallinghowling that ever audience heard. It was too much. 'Turn themout!' was the general cry. A noise, as of shuffling of feet, andmen being knocked up with violence against wainscoting, was heard:a hurried dialogue of 'Come out?'--'I won't!'--'You shall!'--'Ishan't!'--'Give me your card, Sir?'--'You're a scoundrel, Sir!' andso forth, succeeded. A round of applause betokened the approbationof the audience, and Mr. Robert Smithers and Mr. Thomas Potterfound themselves shot with astonishing swiftness into the road, without having had the trouble of once putting foot to groundduring the whole progress of their rapid descent. 

Mr. Robert Smithers, being constitutionally one of the slow-goers, and having had quite enough of fast-going, in the course of hisrecent expulsion, to last until the quarter-day then next ensuingat the very least, had no sooner emerged with his companion fromthe precincts of Milton-street, than he proceeded to indulge incircuitous references to the beauties of sleep, mingled withdistant allusions to the propriety of returning to Islington, andtesting the influence of their patent Bramahs over the street-doorlocks to which they respectively belonged. Mr. Thomas Potter, however, was valorous and peremptory. They had come out to make anight of it: and a night must be made. So Mr. Robert Smithers, who was three parts dull, and the other dismal, despairinglyassented; and they went into a wine-vaults, to get materials forassisting them in making a night; where they found a good manyyoung ladies, and various old gentlemen, and a plentiful sprinklingof hackney-coachmen and cab-drivers, all drinking and talkingtogether; and Mr. Thomas Potter and Mr. Robert Smithers drank smallglasses of brandy, and large glasses of soda, until they began tohave a very confused idea, either of things in general, or ofanything in particular; and, when they had done treating themselvesthey began to treat everybody else; and the rest of theentertainment was a confused mixture of heads and heels, black eyesand blue uniforms, mud and gas-lights, thick doors, and stonepaving. 

Then, as standard novelists expressively inform us--'all was ablank!' and in the morning the blank was filled up with the words'STATION-HOUSE, ' and the station-house was filled up with Mr. Thomas Potter, Mr. Robert Smithers, and the major part of theirwine-vault companions of the preceding night, with a comparativelysmall portion of clothing of any kind. And it was disclosed at thePolice-office, to the indignation of the Bench, and theastonishment of the spectators, how one Robert Smithers, aided andabetted by one Thomas Potter, had knocked down and beaten, indivers streets, at different times, five men, four boys, and threewomen; how the said Thomas Potter had feloniously obtainedpossession of five door-knockers, two bell-handles, and a bonnet;how Robert Smithers, his friend, had sworn, at least forty pounds'worth of oaths, at the rate of five shillings apiece; terrifiedwhole streets full of Her Majesty's subjects with awful shrieks andalarms of fire; destroyed the uniforms of five policemen; andcommitted various other atrocities, too numerous to recapitulate. And the magistrate, after an appropriate reprimand, fined Mr. Thomas Potter and Mr. Thomas Smithers five shillings each, forbeing, what the law vulgarly terms, drunk; and thirty-four poundsfor seventeen assaults at forty shillings a-head, with liberty tospeak to the prosecutors. 

The prosecutors WERE spoken to, and Messrs. Potter and Smitherslived on credit, for a quarter, as best they might; and, althoughthe prosecutors expressed their readiness to be assaulted twice aweek, on the same terms, they have never since been detected in'making a night of it. '

CHAPTER XII--THE PRISONERS' VAN

We were passing the corner of Bow-street, on our return from alounging excursion the other afternoon, when a crowd, assembledround the door of the Police-office, attracted our attention. Weturned up the street accordingly. There were thirty or fortypeople, standing on the pavement and half across the road; and afew stragglers were patiently stationed on the opposite side of theway--all evidently waiting in expectation of some arrival. Wewaited too, a few minutes, but nothing occurred; so, we turnedround to an unshorn, sallow-looking cobbler, who was standing nextus with his hands under the bib of his apron, and put the usualquestion of 'What's the matter?' The cobbler eyed us from head tofoot, with superlative contempt, and laconically replied 'Nuffin. '

Now, we were perfectly aware that if two men stop in the street tolook at any given object, or even to gaze in the air, two hundredmen will be assembled in no time; but, as we knew very well that nocrowd of people could by possibility remain in a street for fiveminutes without getting up a little amusement among themselves, unless they had some absorbing object in view, the natural inquirynext in order was, 'What are all these people waiting here for?'--'Her Majesty's carriage, ' replied the cobbler. This was still moreextraordinary. We could not imagine what earthly business HerMajesty's carriage could have at the Public Office, Bow-street. Wewere beginning to ruminate on the possible causes of such anuncommon appearance, when a general exclamation from all the boysin the crowd of 'Here's the wan!' caused us to raise our heads, andlook up the street. 

The covered vehicle, in which prisoners are conveyed from thepolice-offices to the different prisons, was coming along at fullspeed. It then occurred to us, for the first time, that HerMajesty's carriage was merely another name for the prisoners' van, conferred upon it, not only by reason of the superior gentility ofthe term, but because the aforesaid van is maintained at HerMajesty's expense: having been originally started for theexclusive accommodation of ladies and gentlemen under the necessityof visiting the various houses of call known by the generaldenomination of 'Her Majesty's Gaols. '

The van drew up at the office-door, and the people thronged roundthe steps, just leaving a little alley for the prisoners to passthrough. Our friend the cobbler, and the other stragglers, crossedover, and we followed their example. The driver, and another manwho had been seated by his side in front of the vehicle, dismounted, and were admitted into the office. The office-door wasclosed after them, and the crowd were on the tiptoe of expectation. 

After a few minutes' delay, the door again opened, and the twofirst prisoners appeared. They were a couple of girls, of whom theelder--could not be more than sixteen, and the younger of whom hadcertainly not attained her fourteenth year. That they weresisters, was evident, from the resemblance which still subsistedbetween them, though two additional years of depravity had fixedtheir brand upon the elder girl's features, as legibly as if a red-hot iron had seared them. They were both gaudily dressed, theyounger one especially; and, although there was a strong similaritybetween them in both respects, which was rendered the more obviousby their being handcuffed together, it is impossible to conceive agreater contrast than the demeanour of the two presented. Theyounger girl was weeping bitterly--not for display, or in the hopeof producing effect, but for very shame: her face was buried inher handkerchief: and her whole manner was but too expressive ofbitter and unavailing sorrow. 

'How long are you for, Emily?' screamed a red-faced woman in thecrowd. 'Six weeks and labour, ' replied the elder girl with aflaunting laugh; 'and that's better than the stone jug anyhow; themill's a deal better than the Sessions, and here's Bella a-goingtoo for the first time. Hold up your head, you chicken, ' shecontinued, boisterously tearing the other girl's handkerchief away;'Hold up your head, and show 'em your face. I an't jealous, butI'm blessed if I an't game!'--'That's right, old gal, ' exclaimed aman in a paper cap, who, in common with the greater part of thecrowd, had been inexpressibly delighted with this little incident. --'Right!' replied the girl; 'ah, to be sure; what's the odds, eh?'--'Come! In with you, ' interrupted the driver. 'Don't you be in ahurry, coachman, ' replied the girl, 'and recollect I want to be setdown in Cold Bath Fields--large house with a high garden-wall infront; you can't mistake it. Hallo. Bella, where are you goingto--you'll pull my precious arm off?' This was addressed to theyounger girl, who, in her anxiety to hide herself in the caravan, had ascended the steps first, and forgotten the strain upon thehandcuff. 'Come down, and let's show you the way. ' And afterjerking the miserable girl down with a force which made her staggeron the pavement, she got into the vehicle, and was followed by herwretched companion. 

These two girls had been thrown upon London streets, their vicesand debauchery, by a sordid and rapacious mother. What the youngergirl was then, the elder had been once; and what the elder thenwas, the younger must soon become. A melancholy prospect, but howsurely to be realised; a tragic drama, but how often acted! Turnto the prisons and police offices of London--nay, look into thevery streets themselves. These things pass before our eyes, dayafter day, and hour after hour--they have become such matters ofcourse, that they are utterly disregarded. The progress of thesegirls in crime will be as rapid as the flight of a pestilence, resembling it too in its baneful influence and wide-spreadinginfection. Step by step, how many wretched females, within thesphere of every man's observation, have become involved in a careerof vice, frightful to contemplate; hopeless at its commencement, loathsome and repulsive in its course; friendless, forlorn, andunpitied, at its miserable conclusion!

There were other prisoners--boys of ten, as hardened in vice as menof fifty--a houseless vagrant, going joyfully to prison as a placeof food and shelter, handcuffed to a man whose prospects wereruined, character lost, and family rendered destitute, by his firstoffence. Our curiosity, however, was satisfied. The first grouphad left an impression on our mind we would gladly have avoided, and would willingly have effaced. 

The crowd dispersed; the vehicle rolled away with its load of guiltand misfortune; and we saw no more of the Prisoners' Van. 

TALES

CHAPTER I--THE BOARDING-HOUSE. 

CHAPTER I. 

Mrs. Tibbs was, beyond all dispute, the most tidy, fidgety, thriftylittle personage that ever inhaled the smoke of London; and thehouse of Mrs. Tibbs was, decidedly, the neatest in all Great Coram-street. The area and the area-steps, and the street-door and thestreet-door steps, and the brass handle, and the door-plate, andthe knocker, and the fan-light, were all as clean and bright, asindefatigable white-washing, and hearth-stoning, and scrubbing andrubbing, could make them. The wonder was, that the brass door-plate, with the interesting inscription 'MRS. TIBBS, ' had nevercaught fire from constant friction, so perseveringly was itpolished. There were meat-safe-looking blinds in the parlour-windows, blue and gold curtains in the drawing-room, and spring-roller blinds, as Mrs. Tibbs was wont in the pride of her heart toboast, 'all the way up. ' The bell-lamp in the passage looked asclear as a soap-bubble; you could see yourself in all the tables, and French-polish yourself on any one of the chairs. The banisterswere bees-waxed; and the very stair-wires made your eyes wink, theywere so glittering. 

Mrs. Tibbs was somewhat short of stature, and Mr. Tibbs was by nomeans a large man. He had, moreover, very short legs, but, by wayof indemnification, his face was peculiarly long. He was to hiswife what the 0 is in 90--he was of some importance WITH her--hewas nothing without her. Mrs. Tibbs was always talking. Mr. Tibbsrarely spoke; but, if it were at any time possible to put in aword, when he should have said nothing at all, he had that talent. Mrs. Tibbs detested long stories, and Mr. Tibbs had one, theconclusion of which had never been heard by his most intimatefriends. It always began, 'I recollect when I was in the volunteercorps, in eighteen hundred and six, '--but, as he spoke very slowlyand softly, and his better half very quickly and loudly, he rarelygot beyond the introductory sentence. He was a melancholy specimenof the story-teller. He was the wandering Jew of Joe Millerism. 

Mr. Tibbs enjoyed a small independence from the pension-list--about43l. 15s. 10d. A year. His father, mother, and five interestingscions from the same stock, drew a like sum from the revenue of agrateful country, though for what particular service was neverknown. But, as this said independence was not quite sufficient tofurnish two people with ALL the luxuries of this life, it hadoccurred to the busy little spouse of Tibbs, that the best thingshe could do with a legacy of 700l. , would be to take and furnish atolerable house--somewhere in that partially-explored tract ofcountry which lies between the British Museum, and a remote villagecalled Somers-town--for the reception of boarders. Great Coram-street was the spot pitched upon. The house had been furnishedaccordingly; two female servants and a boy engaged; and anadvertisement inserted in the morning papers, informing the publicthat 'Six individuals would meet with all the comforts of acheerful musical home in a select private family, residing withinten minutes' walk of'--everywhere. Answers out of number werereceived, with all sorts of initials; all the letters of thealphabet seemed to be seized with a sudden wish to go out boardingand lodging; voluminous was the correspondence between Mrs. Tibbsand the applicants; and most profound was the secrecy observed. 'E. ' didn't like this; 'I. ' couldn't think of putting up with that;'I. O. U. ' didn't think the terms would suit him; and 'G. R. ' hadnever slept in a French bed. The result, however, was, that threegentlemen became inmates of Mrs. Tibbs's house, on terms which were'agreeable to all parties. ' In went the advertisement again, and alady with her two daughters, proposed to increase--not theirfamilies, but Mrs. Tibbs's. 

'Charming woman, that Mrs. Maplesone!' said Mrs. Tibbs, as she andher spouse were sitting by the fire after breakfast; the gentlemenhaving gone out on their several avocations. 'Charming woman, indeed!' repeated little Mrs. Tibbs, more by way of soliloquy thananything else, for she never thought of consulting her husband. 'And the two daughters are delightful. We must have some fish to-day; they'll join us at dinner for the first time. '

Mr. Tibbs placed the poker at right angles with the fire shovel, and essayed to speak, but recollected he had nothing to say. 

'The young ladies, ' continued Mrs. T. , 'have kindly volunteered tobring their own piano. '

Tibbs thought of the volunteer story, but did not venture it. 

A bright thought struck him -

'It's very likely--' said he. 

'Pray don't lean your head against the paper, ' interrupted Mrs. Tibbs; 'and don't put your feet on the steel fender; that's worse. '

Tibbs took his head from the paper, and his feet from the fender, and proceeded. 'It's very likely one of the young ladies may sether cap at young Mr. Simpson, and you know a marriage--'

'A what!' shrieked Mrs. Tibbs. Tibbs modestly repeated his formersuggestion. 

'I beg you won't mention such a thing, ' said Mrs. T. 'A marriage, indeed to rob me of my boarders--no, not for the world. '

Tibbs thought in his own mind that the event was by no meansunlikely, but, as he never argued with his wife, he put a stop tothe dialogue, by observing it was 'time to go to business. ' Healways went out at ten o'clock in the morning, and returned at fivein the afternoon, with an exceedingly dirty face, and smellingmouldy. Nobody knew what he was, or where he went; but Mrs. Tibbsused to say with an air of great importance, that he was engaged inthe City. 

The Miss Maplesones and their accomplished parent arrived in thecourse of the afternoon in a hackney-coach, and accompanied by amost astonishing number of packages. Trunks, bonnet-boxes, muff-boxes and parasols, guitar-cases, and parcels of all imaginableshapes, done up in brown paper, and fastened with pins, filled thepassage. Then, there was such a running up and down with theluggage, such scampering for warm water for the ladies to wash in, and such a bustle, and confusion, and heating of servants, andcurling-irons, as had never been known in Great Coram-streetbefore. Little Mrs. Tibbs was quite in her element, bustlingabout, talking incessantly, and distributing towels and soap, likea head nurse in a hospital. The house was not restored to itsusual state of quiet repose, until the ladies were safely shut upin their respective bedrooms, engaged in the important occupationof dressing for dinner. 

'Are these gals 'andsome?' inquired Mr. Simpson of Mr. SeptimusHicks, another of the boarders, as they were amusing themselves inthe drawing-room, before dinner, by lolling on sofas, andcontemplating their pumps. 

'Don't know, ' replied Mr. Septimus Hicks, who was a tallish, white-faced young man, with spectacles, and a black ribbon round his neckinstead of a neckerchief--a most interesting person; a poeticalwalker of the hospitals, and a 'very talented young man. ' He wasfond of 'lugging' into conversation all sorts of quotations fromDon Juan, without fettering himself by the propriety of theirapplication; in which particular he was remarkably independent. The other, Mr. Simpson, was one of those young men, who are insociety what walking gentlemen are on the stage, only infinitelyworse skilled in his vocation than the most indifferent artist. Hewas as empty-headed as the great bell of St. Paul's; always dressedaccording to the caricatures published in the monthly fashion; andspelt Character with a K. 

'I saw a devilish number of parcels in the passage when I camehome, ' simpered Mr. Simpson. 

'Materials for the toilet, no doubt, ' rejoined the Don Juan reader. 

- 'Much linen, lace, and several pairOf stockings, slippers, brushes, combs, complete;With other articles of ladies fair, To keep them beautiful, or leave them neat. '

'Is that from Milton?' inquired Mr. Simpson. 

'No--from Byron, ' returned Mr. Hicks, with a look of contempt. Hewas quite sure of his author, because he had never read any other. 'Hush! Here come the gals, ' and they both commenced talking in avery loud key. 

'Mrs. Maplesone and the Miss Maplesones, Mr. Hicks. Mr. Hicks--Mrs. Maplesone and the Miss Maplesones, ' said Mrs. Tibbs, with avery red face, for she had been superintending the cookingoperations below stairs, and looked like a wax doll on a sunny day. 'Mr. Simpson, I beg your pardon--Mr. Simpson--Mrs. Maplesone andthe Miss Maplesones'--and vice versa. The gentlemen immediatelybegan to slide about with much politeness, and to look as if theywished their arms had been legs, so little did they know what to dowith them. The ladies smiled, curtseyed, and glided into chairs, and dived for dropped pocket-handkerchiefs: the gentlemen leantagainst two of the curtain-pegs; Mrs. Tibbs went through anadmirable bit of serious pantomime with a servant who had come upto ask some question about the fish-sauce; and then the two youngladies looked at each other; and everybody else appeared todiscover something very attractive in the pattern of the fender. 

'Julia, my love, ' said Mrs. Maplesone to her youngest daughter, ina tone loud enough for the remainder of the company to hear--'Julia. '

'Yes, Ma. '

'Don't stoop. '--This was said for the purpose of directing generalattention to Miss Julia's figure, which was undeniable. Everybodylooked at her, accordingly, and there was another pause. 

'We had the most uncivil hackney-coachman to-day, you can imagine, 'said Mrs. Maplesone to Mrs. Tibbs, in a confidential tone. 

'Dear me!' replied the hostess, with an air of great commiseration. She couldn't say more, for the servant again appeared at the door, and commenced telegraphing most earnestly to her 'Missis. '

'I think hackney-coachmen generally ARE uncivil, ' said Mr. Hicks inhis most insinuating tone. 

'Positively I think they are, ' replied Mrs. Maplesone, as if theidea had never struck her before. 

'And cabmen, too, ' said Mr. Simpson. This remark was a failure, for no one intimated, by word or sign, the slightest knowledge ofthe manners and customs of cabmen. 

'Robinson, what DO you want?' said Mrs. Tibbs to the servant, who, by way of making her presence known to her mistress, had beengiving sundry hems and sniffs outside the door during the precedingfive minutes. 

'Please, ma'am, master wants his clean things, ' replied theservant, taken off her guard. The two young men turned their facesto the window, and 'went off' like a couple of bottles of ginger-beer; the ladies put their handkerchiefs to their mouths; andlittle Mrs. Tibbs bustled out of the room to give Tibbs his cleanlinen, --and the servant warning. 

Mr. Calton, the remaining boarder, shortly afterwards made hisappearance, and proved a surprising promoter of the conversation. Mr. Calton was a superannuated beau--an old boy. He used to say ofhimself that although his features were not regularly handsome, they were striking. They certainly were. It was impossible tolook at his face without being reminded of a chubby street-doorknocker, half-lion half-monkey; and the comparison might beextended to his whole character and conversation. He had stoodstill, while everything else had been moving. He never originateda conversation, or started an idea; but if any commonplace topicwere broached, or, to pursue the comparison, if anybody LIFTED HIMUP, he would hammer away with surprising rapidity. He had the tic-douloureux occasionally, and then he might be said to be muffled, because he did not make quite as much noise as at other times, whenhe would go on prosing, rat-tat-tat the same thing over and overagain. He had never been married; but he was still on the look-outfor a wife with money. He had a life interest worth about 300l. Ayear--he was exceedingly vain, and inordinately selfish. He hadacquired the reputation of being the very pink of politeness, andhe walked round the park, and up Regent-street, every day. 

This respectable personage had made up his mind to render himselfexceedingly agreeable to Mrs. Maplesone--indeed, the desire ofbeing as amiable as possible extended itself to the whole party;Mrs. Tibbs having considered it an admirable little bit ofmanagement to represent to the gentlemen that she had SOME reasonto believe the ladies were fortunes, and to hint to the ladies, that all the gentlemen were 'eligible. ' A little flirtation, shethought, might keep her house full, without leading to any otherresult. 

Mrs. Maplesone was an enterprising widow of about fifty: shrewd, scheming, and good-looking. She was amiably anxious on behalf ofher daughters; in proof whereof she used to remark, that she wouldhave no objection to marry again, if it would benefit her deargirls--she could have no other motive. The 'dear girls' themselveswere not at all insensible to the merits of 'a good establishment. 'One of them was twenty-five; the other, three years younger. Theyhad been at different watering-places, for four seasons; they hadgambled at libraries, read books in balconies, sold at fancy fairs, danced at assemblies, talked sentiment--in short, they had done allthat industrious girls could do--but, as yet, to no purpose. 

'What a magnificent dresser Mr. Simpson is!' whispered MatildaMaplesone to her sister Julia. 

'Splendid!' returned the youngest. The magnificent individualalluded to wore a maroon-coloured dress-coat, with a velvet collarand cuffs of the same tint--very like that which usually investsthe form of the distinguished unknown who condescends to play the'swell' in the pantomime at 'Richardson's Show. '

'What whiskers!' said Miss Julia. 

'Charming!' responded her sister; 'and what hair!' His hair waslike a wig, and distinguished by that insinuating wave which gracesthe shining locks of those chef-d'oeuvres of art surmounting thewaxen images in Bartellot's window in Regent-street; his whiskersmeeting beneath his chin, seemed strings wherewith to tie it on, ere science had rendered them unnecessary by her patent invisiblesprings. 

'Dinner's on the table, ma'am, if you please, ' said the boy, whonow appeared for the first time, in a revived black coat of hismaster's. 

'Oh! Mr. Calton, will you lead Mrs. Maplesone?--Thank you. ' Mr. Simpson offered his arm to Miss Julia; Mr. Septimus Hicks escortedthe lovely Matilda; and the procession proceeded to the dining-room. Mr. Tibbs was introduced, and Mr. Tibbs bobbed up and downto the three ladies like a figure in a Dutch clock, with a powerfulspring in the middle of his body, and then dived rapidly into hisseat at the bottom of the table, delighted to screen himself behinda soup-tureen, which he could just see over, and that was all. Theboarders were seated, a lady and gentleman alternately, like thelayers of bread and meat in a plate of sandwiches; and then Mrs. Tibbs directed James to take off the covers. Salmon, lobster-sauce, giblet-soup, and the usual accompaniments were discovered:potatoes like petrifactions, and bits of toasted bread, the shapeand size of blank dice. 

'Soup for Mrs. Maplesone, my dear, ' said the bustling Mrs. Tibbs. She always called her husband 'my dear' before company. Tibbs, whohad been eating his bread, and calculating how long it would bebefore he should get any fish, helped the soup in a hurry, made asmall island on the table-cloth, and put his glass upon it, to hideit from his wife. 

'Miss Julia, shall I assist you to some fish?'

'If you please--very little--oh! plenty, thank you' (a bit aboutthe size of a walnut put upon the plate). 

'Julia is a VERY little eater, ' said Mrs. Maplesone to Mr. Calton. 

The knocker gave a single rap. He was busy eating the fish withhis eyes: so he only ejaculated, 'Ah!'

'My dear, ' said Mrs. Tibbs to her spouse after every one else hadbeen helped, 'what do YOU take?' The inquiry was accompanied witha look intimating that he mustn't say fish, because there was notmuch left. Tibbs thought the frown referred to the island on thetable-cloth; he therefore coolly replied, 'Why--I'll take a little--fish, I think. '

'Did you say fish, my dear?' (another frown). 

'Yes, dear, ' replied the villain, with an expression of acutehunger depicted in his countenance. The tears almost started toMrs. Tibbs's eyes, as she helped her 'wretch of a husband, ' as sheinwardly called him, to the last eatable bit of salmon on the dish. 

'James, take this to your master, and take away your master'sknife. ' This was deliberate revenge, as Tibbs never could eat fishwithout one. He was, however, constrained to chase small particlesof salmon round and round his plate with a piece of bread and afork, the number of successful attempts being about one inseventeen. 

'Take away, James, ' said Mrs. Tibbs, as Tibbs swallowed the fourthmouthful--and away went the plates like lightning. 

'I'll take a bit of bread, James, ' said the poor 'master of thehouse, ' more hungry than ever. 

'Never mind your master now, James, ' said Mrs. Tibbs, 'see aboutthe meat. ' This was conveyed in the tone in which ladies usuallygive admonitions to servants in company, that is to say, a low one;but which, like a stage whisper, from its peculiar emphasis, ismost distinctly heard by everybody present. 

A pause ensued, before the table was replenished--a sort ofparenthesis in which Mr. Simpson, Mr. Calton, and Mr. Hicks, produced respectively a bottle of sauterne, bucellas, and sherry, and took wine with everybody--except Tibbs. No one ever thought ofhim. 

Between the fish and an intimated sirloin, there was a prolongedinterval. 

Here was an opportunity for Mr. Hicks. He could not resist thesingularly appropriate quotation -

'But beef is rare within these oxless isles;Goats' flesh there is, no doubt, and kid, and mutton, And when a holiday upon them smiles, A joint upon their barbarous spits they put on. '

'Very ungentlemanly behaviour, ' thought little Mrs. Tibbs, 'to talkin that way. '

'Ah, ' said Mr. Calton, filling his glass. 'Tom Moore is my poet. '

'And mine, ' said Mrs. Maplesone. 

'And mine, ' said Miss Julia. 

'And mine, ' added Mr. Simpson. 

'Look at his compositions, ' resumed the knocker. 

'To be sure, ' said Simpson, with confidence. 

'Look at Don Juan, ' replied Mr. Septimus Hicks. 

'Julia's letter, ' suggested Miss Matilda. 

'Can anything be grander than the Fire Worshippers?' inquired MissJulia. 

'To be sure, ' said Simpson. 

'Or Paradise and the Peri, ' said the old beau. 

'Yes; or Paradise and the Peer, ' repeated Simpson, who thought hewas getting through it capitally. 

'It's all very well, ' replied Mr. Septimus Hicks, who, as we havebefore hinted, never had read anything but Don Juan. 'Where willyou find anything finer than the description of the siege, at thecommencement of the seventh canto?'

'Talking of a siege, ' said Tibbs, with a mouthful of bread--'when Iwas in the volunteer corps, in eighteen hundred and six, ourcommanding officer was Sir Charles Rampart; and one day, when wewere exercising on the ground on which the London University nowstands, he says, says he, Tibbs (calling me from the ranks), Tibbs--'

'Tell your master, James, ' interrupted Mrs. Tibbs, in an awfullydistinct tone, 'tell your master if he WON'T carve those fowls, tosend them to me. ' The discomfited volunteer instantly set to work, and carved the fowls almost as expeditiously as his wife operatedon the haunch of mutton. Whether he ever finished the story is notknown but, if he did, nobody heard it. 

As the ice was now broken, and the new inmates more at home, everymember of the company felt more at ease. Tibbs himself mostcertainly did, because he went to sleep immediately after dinner. Mr. Hicks and the ladies discoursed most eloquently about poetry, and the theatres, and Lord Chesterfield's Letters; and Mr. Caltonfollowed up what everybody said, with continuous double knocks. Mrs. Tibbs highly approved of every observation that fell from Mrs. Maplesone; and as Mr. Simpson sat with a smile upon his face andsaid 'Yes, ' or 'Certainly, ' at intervals of about four minuteseach, he received full credit for understanding what was goingforward. The gentlemen rejoined the ladies in the drawing-roomvery shortly after they had left the dining-parlour. Mrs. Maplesone and Mr. Calton played cribbage, and the 'young people'amused themselves with music and conversation. The Miss Maplesonessang the most fascinating duets, and accompanied themselves onguitars, ornamented with bits of ethereal blue ribbon. Mr. Simpsonput on a pink waistcoat, and said he was in raptures; and Mr. Hicksfelt in the seventh heaven of poetry or the seventh canto of DonJuan--it was the same thing to him. Mrs. Tibbs was quite charmedwith the newcomers; and Mr. Tibbs spent the evening in his usualway--he went to sleep, and woke up, and went to sleep again, andwoke at supper-time. 

* * * * *

We are not about to adopt the licence of novel-writers, and to let'years roll on;' but we will take the liberty of requesting thereader to suppose that six months have elapsed, since the dinner wehave described, and that Mrs. Tibbs's boarders have, during thatperiod, sang, and danced, and gone to theatres and exhibitions, together, as ladies and gentlemen, wherever they board, often do. And we will beg them, the period we have mentioned having elapsed, to imagine farther, that Mr. Septimus Hicks received, in his ownbedroom (a front attic), at an early hour one morning, a note fromMr. Calton, requesting the favour of seeing him, as soon asconvenient to himself, in his (Calton's) dressing-room on thesecond-floor back. 

'Tell Mr. Calton I'll come down directly, ' said Mr. Septimus to theboy. 'Stop--is Mr. Calton unwell?' inquired this excited walker ofhospitals, as he put on a bed-furniture-looking dressing-gown. 

'Not as I knows on, sir, ' replied the boy. ' Please, sir, helooked rather rum, as it might be. '

'Ah, that's no proof of his being ill, ' returned Hicks, unconsciously. 'Very well: I'll be down directly. ' Downstairsran the boy with the message, and down went the excited Hickshimself, almost as soon as the message was delivered. 'Tap, tap. ''Come in. '--Door opens, and discovers Mr. Calton sitting in an easychair. Mutual shakes of the hand exchanged, and Mr. Septimus Hicksmotioned to a seat. A short pause. Mr. Hicks coughed, and Mr. Calton took a pinch of snuff. It was one of those interviews whereneither party knows what to say. Mr. Septimus Hicks broke silence. 

'I received a note--' he said, very tremulously, in a voice like aPunch with a cold. 

'Yes, ' returned the other, 'you did. '

'Exactly. '

'Yes. '

Now, although this dialogue must have been satisfactory, bothgentlemen felt there was something more important to be said;therefore they did as most men in such a situation would have done--they looked at the table with a determined aspect. Theconversation had been opened, however, and Mr. Calton had made uphis mind to continue it with a regular double knock. He alwaysspoke very pompously. 

'Hicks, ' said he, 'I have sent for you, in consequence of certainarrangements which are pending in this house, connected with amarriage. '

'With a marriage!' gasped Hicks, compared with whose expression ofcountenance, Hamlet's, when he sees his father's ghost, is pleasingand composed. 

'With a marriage, ' returned the knocker. 'I have sent for you toprove the great confidence I can repose in you. '

'And will you betray me?' eagerly inquired Hicks, who in his alarmhad even forgotten to quote. 

'_I_ betray YOU! Won't YOU betray ME?'

'Never: no one shall know, to my dying day, that you had a hand inthe business, ' responded the agitated Hicks, with an inflamedcountenance, and his hair standing on end as if he were on thestool of an electrifying machine in full operation. 

'People must know that, some time or other--within a year, Iimagine, ' said Mr. Calton, with an air of great self-complacency. 'We MAY have a family. '

'WE!--That won't affect you, surely?'

'The devil it won't!'

'No! how can it?' said the bewildered Hicks. Calton was too muchinwrapped in the contemplation of his happiness to see theequivoque between Hicks and himself; and threw himself back in hischair. 'Oh, Matilda!' sighed the antique beau, in a lack-a-daisical voice, and applying his right hand a little to the left ofthe fourth button of his waistcoat, counting from the bottom. 'Oh, Matilda!'

'What Matilda?' inquired Hicks, starting up. 

'Matilda Maplesone, ' responded the other, doing the same. 

'I marry her to-morrow morning, ' said Hicks. 

'It's false, ' rejoined his companion: 'I marry her!'

'You marry her?'

'I marry her!'

'You marry Matilda Maplesone?'

'Matilda Maplesone. '

'MISS Maplesone marry YOU?'

'Miss Maplesone! No; Mrs. Maplesone. '

'Good Heaven!' said Hicks, falling into his chair: 'You marry themother, and I the daughter!'

'Most extraordinary circumstance!' replied Mr. Calton, 'and ratherinconvenient too; for the fact is, that owing to Matilda's wishingto keep her intention secret from her daughters until the ceremonyhad taken place, she doesn't like applying to any of her friends togive her away. I entertain an objection to making the affair knownto my acquaintance just now; and the consequence is, that I sent toyou to know whether you'd oblige me by acting as father. '

'I should have been most happy, I assure you, ' said Hicks, in atone of condolence; 'but, you see, I shall be acting as bridegroom. One character is frequently a consequence of the other; but it isnot usual to act in both at the same time. There's Simpson--I haveno doubt he'll do it for you. '

'I don't like to ask him, ' replied Calton, 'he's such a donkey. '

Mr. Septimus Hicks looked up at the ceiling, and down at the floor;at last an idea struck him. 'Let the man of the house, Tibbs, bethe father, ' he suggested; and then he quoted, as peculiarlyapplicable to Tibbs and the pair -

'Oh Powers of Heaven! what dark eyes meets she there?''Tis--'tis her father's--fixed upon the pair. '

'The idea has struck me already, ' said Mr. Calton: 'but, you see, Matilda, for what reason I know not, is very anxious that Mrs. Tibbs should know nothing about it, till it's all over. It's anatural delicacy, after all, you know. '

'He's the best-natured little man in existence, if you manage himproperly, ' said Mr. Septimus Hicks. 'Tell him not to mention it tohis wife, and assure him she won't mind it, and he'll do itdirectly. My marriage is to be a secret one, on account of themother and MY father; therefore he must be enjoined to secrecy. '

A small double knock, like a presumptuous single one, was thatinstant heard at the street-door. It was Tibbs; it could be no oneelse; for no one else occupied five minutes in rubbing his shoes. He had been out to pay the baker's bill. 

'Mr. Tibbs, ' called Mr. Calton in a very bland tone, looking overthe banisters. 

'Sir!' replied he of the dirty face. 

'Will you have the kindness to step up-stairs for a moment?'

'Certainly, sir, ' said Tibbs, delighted to be taken notice of. Thebedroom-door was carefully closed, and Tibbs, having put his hat onthe floor (as most timid men do), and been accommodated with aseat, looked as astounded as if he were suddenly summoned beforethe familiars of the Inquisition. 

'A rather unpleasant occurrence, Mr. Tibbs, ' said Calton, in a veryportentous manner, 'obliges me to consult you, and to beg you willnot communicate what I am about to say, to your wife. '

Tibbs acquiesced, wondering in his own mind what the deuce theother could have done, and imagining that at least he must havebroken the best decanters. 

Mr. Calton resumed; 'I am placed, Mr. Tibbs, in rather anunpleasant situation. '

Tibbs looked at Mr. Septimus Hicks, as if he thought Mr. H. 's beingin the immediate vicinity of his fellow-boarder might constitutethe unpleasantness of his situation; but as he did not exactly knowwhat to say, he merely ejaculated the monosyllable 'Lor!'

'Now, ' continued the knocker, 'let me beg you will exhibit nomanifestations of surprise, which may be overheard by thedomestics, when I tell you--command your feelings of astonishment--that two inmates of this house intend to be married to-morrowmorning. ' And he drew back his chair, several feet, to perceivethe effect of the unlooked-for announcement. 

If Tibbs had rushed from the room, staggered down-stairs, andfainted in the passage--if he had instantaneously jumped out of thewindow into the mews behind the house, in an agony of surprise--hisbehaviour would have been much less inexplicable to Mr. Calton thanit was, when he put his hands into his inexpressible-pockets, andsaid with a half-chuckle, 'Just so. '

'You are not surprised, Mr. Tibbs?' inquired Mr. Calton. 

'Bless you, no, sir, ' returned Tibbs; 'after all, its very natural. When two young people get together, you know--'

'Certainly, certainly, ' said Calton, with an indescribable air ofself-satisfaction. 

'You don't think it's at all an out-of-the-way affair then?' askedMr. Septimus Hicks, who had watched the countenance of Tibbs inmute astonishment. 

'No, sir, ' replied Tibbs; 'I was just the same at his age. ' Heactually smiled when he said this. 

'How devilish well I must carry my years!' thought the delightedold beau, knowing he was at least ten years older than Tibbs atthat moment. 

'Well, then, to come to the point at once, ' he continued, 'I haveto ask you whether you will object to act as father on theoccasion?'

'Certainly not, ' replied Tibbs; still without evincing an atom ofsurprise. 

'You will not?'

'Decidedly not, ' reiterated Tibbs, still as calm as a pot of porterwith the head off. 

Mr. Calton seized the hand of the petticoat-governed little man, and vowed eternal friendship from that hour. Hicks, who was alladmiration and surprise, did the same. 

'Now, confess, ' asked Mr. Calton of Tibbs, as he picked up his hat, 'were you not a little surprised?'

'I b'lieve you!' replied that illustrious person, holding up onehand; 'I b'lieve you! When I first heard of it. '

'So sudden, ' said Septimus Hicks. 

'So strange to ask ME, you know, ' said Tibbs. 

'So odd altogether!' said the superannuated love-maker; and thenall three laughed. 

'I say, ' said Tibbs, shutting the door which he had previouslyopened, and giving full vent to a hitherto corked-up giggle, 'whatbothers me is, what WILL his father say?'

Mr. Septimus Hicks looked at Mr. Calton. 

'Yes; but the best of it is, ' said the latter, giggling in histurn, 'I haven't got a father--he! he! he!'

'You haven't got a father. No; but HE has, ' said Tibbs. 

'WHO has?' inquired Septimus Hicks. 

'Why, HIM. '

'Him, who? Do you know my secret? Do you mean me?'

'You! No; you know who I mean, ' returned Tibbs with a knowingwink. 

'For Heaven's sake, whom do you mean?' inquired Mr. Calton, who, like Septimus Hicks, was all but out of his senses at the strangeconfusion. 

'Why Mr. Simpson, of course, ' replied Tibbs; 'who else could Imean?'

'I see it all, ' said the Byron-quoter; 'Simpson marries JuliaMaplesone to-morrow morning!'

'Undoubtedly, ' replied Tibbs, thoroughly satisfied, 'of course hedoes. '

It would require the pencil of Hogarth to illustrate--our feeblepen is inadequate to describe--the expression which thecountenances of Mr. Calton and Mr. Septimus Hicks respectivelyassumed, at this unexpected announcement. Equally impossible is itto describe, although perhaps it is easier for our lady readers toimagine, what arts the three ladies could have used, so completelyto entangle their separate partners. Whatever they were, however, they were successful. The mother was perfectly aware of theintended marriage of both daughters; and the young ladies wereequally acquainted with the intention of their estimable parent. They agreed, however, that it would have a much better appearanceif each feigned ignorance of the other's engagement; and it wasequally desirable that all the marriages should take place on thesame day, to prevent the discovery of one clandestine alliance, operating prejudicially on the others. Hence, the mystification ofMr. Calton and Mr. Septimus Hicks, and the pre-engagement of theunwary Tibbs. 

On the following morning, Mr. Septimus Hicks was united to MissMatilda Maplesone. Mr. Simpson also entered into a 'holy alliance'with Miss Julia; Tibbs acting as father, 'his first appearance inthat character. ' Mr. Calton, not being quite so eager as the twoyoung men, was rather struck by the double discovery; and as he hadfound some difficulty in getting any one to give the lady away, itoccurred to him that the best mode of obviating the inconveniencewould be not to take her at all. The lady, however, 'appealed, ' asher counsel said on the trial of the cause, Maplesone v. Calton, for a breach of promise, 'with a broken heart, to the outraged lawsof her country. ' She recovered damages to the amount of 1, 000l. Which the unfortunate knocker was compelled to pay. Mr. SeptimusHicks having walked the hospitals, took it into his head to walkoff altogether. His injured wife is at present residing with hermother at Boulogne. Mr. Simpson, having the misfortune to lose hiswife six weeks after marriage (by her eloping with an officerduring his temporary sojourn in the Fleet Prison, in consequence ofhis inability to discharge her little mantua-maker's bill), andbeing disinherited by his father, who died soon afterwards, wasfortunate enough to obtain a permanent engagement at a fashionablehaircutter's; hairdressing being a science to which he hadfrequently directed his attention. In this situation he hadnecessarily many opportunities of making himself acquainted withthe habits, and style of thinking, of the exclusive portion of thenobility of this kingdom. To this fortunate circumstance are weindebted for the production of those brilliant efforts of genius, his fashionable novels, which so long as good taste, unsullied byexaggeration, cant, and quackery, continues to exist, cannot failto instruct and amuse the thinking portion of the community. 

It only remains to add, that this complication of disorderscompletely deprived poor Mrs. Tibbs of all her inmates, except theone whom she could have best spared--her husband. That wretchedlittle man returned home, on the day of the wedding, in a state ofpartial intoxication; and, under the influence of wine, excitement, and despair, actually dared to brave the anger of his wife. Sincethat ill-fated hour he has constantly taken his meals in thekitchen, to which apartment, it is understood, his witticisms willbe in future confined: a turn-up bedstead having been conveyedthere by Mrs. Tibbs's order for his exclusive accommodation. It ispossible that he will be enabled to finish, in that seclusion, hisstory of the volunteers. 

The advertisement has again appeared in the morning papers. Results must be reserved for another chapter. 

CHAPTER THE SECOND. 

'Well!' said little Mrs. Tibbs to herself, as she sat in the frontparlour of the Coram-street mansion one morning, mending a piece ofstair-carpet off the first Landings;--'Things have not turned outso badly, either, and if I only get a favourable answer to theadvertisement, we shall be full again. '

Mrs. Tibbs resumed her occupation of making worsted lattice-work inthe carpet, anxiously listening to the twopenny postman, who washammering his way down the street, at the rate of a penny a knock. The house was as quiet as possible. There was only one low soundto be heard--it was the unhappy Tibbs cleaning the gentlemen'sboots in the back kitchen, and accompanying himself with a buzzingnoise, in wretched mockery of humming a tune. 

The postman drew near the house. He paused--so did Mrs. Tibbs. Aknock--a bustle--a letter--post-paid. 

'T. I. Presents compt. To I. T. And T. I. Begs To say that i seethe advertisement And she will Do Herself the pleasure of callingOn you at 12 o'clock to-morrow morning. 

'T. I. As To apologise to I. T. For the shortness Of the notice Buti hope it will not unconvenience you. 

'I remain yours Truly

'Wednesday evening. '

Little Mrs. Tibbs perused the document, over and over again; andthe more she read it, the more was she confused by the mixture ofthe first and third person; the substitution of the 'i' for the 'T. I. ;' and the transition from the 'I. T. ' to the 'You. ' Thewriting looked like a skein of thread in a tangle, and the note wasingeniously folded into a perfect square, with the directionsqueezed up into the right-hand corner, as if it were ashamed ofitself. The back of the epistle was pleasingly ornamented with alarge red wafer, which, with the addition of divers ink-stains, bore a marvellous resemblance to a black beetle trodden upon. Onething, however, was perfectly clear to the perplexed Mrs. Tibbs. Somebody was to call at twelve. The drawing-room was forthwithdusted for the third time that morning; three or four chairs werepulled out of their places, and a corresponding number of bookscarefully upset, in order that there might be a due absence offormality. Down went the piece of stair-carpet before noticed, andup ran Mrs. Tibbs 'to make herself tidy. '

The clock of New Saint Pancras Church struck twelve, and theFoundling, with laudable politeness, did the same ten minutesafterwards, Saint something else struck the quarter, and then therearrived a single lady with a double knock, in a pelisse the colourof the interior of a damson pie; a bonnet of the same, with aregular conservatory of artificial flowers; a white veil, and agreen parasol, with a cobweb border. 

The visitor (who was very fat and red-faced) was shown into thedrawing-room; Mrs. Tibbs presented herself, and the negotiationcommenced. 

'I called in consequence of an advertisement, ' said the stranger, in a voice as if she had been playing a set of Pan's pipes for afortnight without leaving off. 

'Yes!' said Mrs. Tibbs, rubbing her hands very slowly, and lookingthe applicant full in the face--two things she always did on suchoccasions. 

'Money isn't no object whatever to me, ' said the lady, 'so much asliving in a state of retirement and obtrusion. '

Mrs. Tibbs, as a matter of course, acquiesced in such anexceedingly natural desire. 

'I am constantly attended by a medical man, ' resumed the pelissewearer; 'I have been a shocking unitarian for some time--I, indeed, have had very little peace since the death of Mr. Bloss. '

Mrs. Tibbs looked at the relict of the departed Bloss, and thoughthe must have had very little peace in his time. Of course shecould not say so; so she looked very sympathising. 

'I shall be a good deal of trouble to you, ' said Mrs. Bloss; 'but, for that trouble I am willing to pay. I am going through a courseof treatment which renders attention necessary. I have one mutton-chop in bed at half-past eight, and another at ten, every morning. '

Mrs. Tibbs, as in duty bound, expressed the pity she felt foranybody placed in such a distressing situation; and the carnivorousMrs. Bloss proceeded to arrange the various preliminaries withwonderful despatch. 'Now mind, ' said that lady, after terms werearranged; 'I am to have the second-floor front, for my bed-room?'

'Yes, ma'am. '

'And you'll find room for my little servant Agnes?'

'Oh! certainly. '

'And I can have one of the cellars in the area for my bottledporter. '

'With the greatest pleasure;--James shall get it ready for you bySaturday. '

'And I'll join the company at the breakfast-table on Sundaymorning, ' said Mrs. Bloss. 'I shall get up on purpose. '

'Very well, ' returned Mrs. Tibbs, in her most amiable tone; forsatisfactory references had 'been given and required, ' and it wasquite certain that the new-comer had plenty of money. 'It's rathersingular, ' continued Mrs. Tibbs, with what was meant for a mostbewitching smile, 'that we have a gentleman now with us, who is ina very delicate state of health--a Mr. Gobler. --His apartment isthe back drawing-room. '

'The next room?' inquired Mrs. Bloss. 

'The next room, ' repeated the hostess. 

'How very promiscuous!' ejaculated the widow. 

'He hardly ever gets up, ' said Mrs. Tibbs in a whisper. 

'Lor!' cried Mrs. Bloss, in an equally low tone. 

'And when he is up, ' said Mrs. Tibbs, 'we never can persuade him togo to bed again. '

'Dear me!' said the astonished Mrs. Bloss, drawing her chair nearerMrs. Tibbs. 'What is his complaint?'

'Why, the fact is, ' replied Mrs. Tibbs, with a most communicativeair, 'he has no stomach whatever. '

'No what?' inquired Mrs. Bloss, with a look of the mostindescribable alarm. 

'No stomach, ' repeated Mrs. Tibbs, with a shake of the head. 

'Lord bless us! what an extraordinary case!' gasped Mrs. Bloss, asif she understood the communication in its literal sense, and wasastonished at a gentleman without a stomach finding it necessary toboard anywhere. 

'When I say he has no stomach, ' explained the chatty little Mrs. Tibbs, 'I mean that his digestion is so much impaired, and hisinterior so deranged, that his stomach is not of the least use tohim;--in fact, it's an inconvenience. '

'Never heard such a case in my life!' exclaimed Mrs. Bloss. 'Why, he's worse than I am. '

'Oh, yes!' replied Mrs. Tibbs;--'certainly. ' She said this withgreat confidence, for the damson pelisse suggested that Mrs. Bloss, at all events, was not suffering under Mr. Gobler's complaint. 

'You have quite incited my curiosity, ' said Mrs. Bloss, as she roseto depart. 'How I long to see him!'

'He generally comes down, once a week, ' replied Mrs. Tibbs; 'I daresay you'll see him on Sunday. ' With this consolatory promise Mrs. Bloss was obliged to be contented. She accordingly walked slowlydown the stairs, detailing her complaints all the way; and Mrs. Tibbs followed her, uttering an exclamation of compassion at everystep. James (who looked very gritty, for he was cleaning theknives) fell up the kitchen-stairs, and opened the street-door;and, after mutual farewells, Mrs. Bloss slowly departed, down theshady side of the street. 

It is almost superfluous to say, that the lady whom we have justshown out at the street-door (and whom the two female servants arenow inspecting from the second-floor windows) was exceedinglyvulgar, ignorant, and selfish. Her deceased better-half had beenan eminent cork-cutter, in which capacity he had amassed a decentfortune. He had no relative but his nephew, and no friend but hiscook. The former had the insolence one morning to ask for the loanof fifteen pounds; and, by way of retaliation, he married thelatter next day; he made a will immediately afterwards, containinga burst of honest indignation against his nephew (who supportedhimself and two sisters on 100l. A year), and a bequest of hiswhole property to his wife. He felt ill after breakfast, and diedafter dinner. There is a mantelpiece-looking tablet in a civicparish church, setting forth his virtues, and deploring his loss. He never dishonoured a bill, or gave away a halfpenny. 

The relict and sole executrix of this noble-minded man was an oddmixture of shrewdness and simplicity, liberality and meanness. Bred up as she had been, she knew no mode of living so agreeable asa boarding-house: and having nothing to do, and nothing to wishfor, she naturally imagined she must be ill--an impression whichwas most assiduously promoted by her medical attendant, Dr. Wosky, and her handmaid Agnes: both of whom, doubtless for good reasons, encouraged all her extravagant notions. 

Since the catastrophe recorded in the last chapter, Mrs. Tibbs hadbeen very shy of young-lady boarders. Her present inmates were alllords of the creation, and she availed herself of the opportunityof their assemblage at the dinner-table, to announce the expectedarrival of Mrs. Bloss. The gentlemen received the communicationwith stoical indifference, and Mrs. Tibbs devoted all her energiesto prepare for the reception of the valetudinarian. The second-floor front was scrubbed, and washed, and flannelled, till the wetwent through to the drawing-room ceiling. Clean whitecounterpanes, and curtains, and napkins, water-bottles as clear ascrystal, blue jugs, and mahogany furniture, added to the splendour, and increased the comfort, of the apartment. The warming-pan wasin constant requisition, and a fire lighted in the room every day. The chattels of Mrs. Bloss were forwarded by instalments. First, there came a large hamper of Guinness's stout, and an umbrella;then, a train of trunks; then, a pair of clogs and a bandbox; then, an easy chair with an air-cushion; then, a variety of suspicious-looking packages; and--'though last not least'--Mrs. Bloss andAgnes: the latter in a cherry-coloured merino dress, open-workstockings, and shoes with sandals: like a disguised Columbine. 

The installation of the Duke of Wellington, as Chancellor of theUniversity of Oxford, was nothing, in point of bustle and turmoil, to the installation of Mrs. Bloss in her new quarters. True, therewas no bright doctor of civil law to deliver a classical address onthe occasion; but there were several other old women present, whospoke quite as much to the purpose, and understood themselvesequally well. The chop-eater was so fatigued with the process ofremoval that she declined leaving her room until the followingmorning; so a mutton-chop, pickle, a pill, a pint bottle of stout, and other medicines, were carried up-stairs for her consumption. 

'Why, what DO you think, ma'am?' inquired the inquisitive Agnes ofher mistress, after they had been in the house some three hours;'what DO you think, ma'am? the lady of the house is married. '

'Married!' said Mrs. Bloss, taking the pill and a draught ofGuinness--'married! Unpossible!'

'She is indeed, ma'am, ' returned the Columbine; 'and her husband, ma'am, lives--he--he--he--lives in the kitchen, ma'am. '

'In the kitchen!'

'Yes, ma'am: and he--he--he--the housemaid says, he never goesinto the parlour except on Sundays; and that Ms. Tibbs makes himclean the gentlemen's boots; and that he cleans the windows, too, sometimes; and that one morning early, when he was in the frontbalcony cleaning the drawing-room windows, he called out to agentleman on the opposite side of the way, who used to live here--"Ah! Mr. Calton, sir, how are you?"' Here the attendant laughedtill Mrs. Bloss was in serious apprehension of her chucklingherself into a fit. 

'Well, I never!' said Mrs. Bloss. 

'Yes. And please, ma'am, the servants gives him gin-and-watersometimes; and then he cries, and says he hates his wife and theboarders, and wants to tickle them. '

'Tickle the boarders!' exclaimed Mrs. Bloss, seriously alarmed. 

'No, ma'am, not the boarders, the servants. '

'Oh, is that all!' said Mrs. Bloss, quite satisfied. 

'He wanted to kiss me as I came up the kitchen-stairs, just now, 'said Agnes, indignantly; 'but I gave it him--a little wretch!'

This intelligence was but too true. A long course of snubbing andneglect; his days spent in the kitchen, and his nights in the turn-up bedstead, had completely broken the little spirit that theunfortunate volunteer had ever possessed. He had no one to whom hecould detail his injuries but the servants, and they were almost ofnecessity his chosen confidants. It is no less strange than true, however, that the little weaknesses which he had incurred, mostprobably during his military career, seemed to increase as hiscomforts diminished. He was actually a sort of journeyman Giovanniof the basement story. 

The next morning, being Sunday, breakfast was laid in the frontparlour at ten o'clock. Nine was the usual time, but the familyalways breakfasted an hour later on sabbath. Tibbs enrobed himselfin his Sunday costume--a black coat, and exceedingly short, thintrousers; with a very large white waistcoat, white stockings andcravat, and Blucher boots--and mounted to the parlour aforesaid. Nobody had come down, and he amused himself by drinking thecontents of the milkpot with a teaspoon. 

A pair of slippers were heard descending the stairs. Tibbs flew toa chair; and a stern-looking man, of about fifty, with very littlehair on his head, and a Sunday paper in his hand, entered the room. 

'Good morning, Mr. Evenson, ' said Tibbs, very humbly, withsomething between a nod and a bow. 

'How do you do, Mr. Tibbs?' replied he of the slippers, as he sathimself down, and began to read his paper without saying anotherword. 

'Is Mr. Wisbottle in town to-day, do you know, sir?' inquiredTibbs, just for the sake of saying something. 

'I should think he was, ' replied the stern gentleman. 'He waswhistling "The Light Guitar, " in the next room to mine, at fiveo'clock this morning. '

'He's very fond of whistling, ' said Tibbs, with a slight smirk. 

'Yes--I ain't, ' was the laconic reply. 

Mr. John Evenson was in the receipt of an independent income, arising chiefly from various houses he owned in the differentsuburbs. He was very morose and discontented. He was a thoroughradical, and used to attend a great variety of public meetings, forthe express purpose of finding fault with everything that wasproposed. Mr. Wisbottle, on the other hand, was a high Tory. Hewas a clerk in the Woods and Forests Office, which he consideredrather an aristocratic employment; he knew the peerage by heart, and, could tell you, off-hand, where any illustrious personagelived. He had a good set of teeth, and a capital tailor. Mr. Evenson looked on all these qualifications with profound contempt;and the consequence was that the two were always disputing, much tothe edification of the rest of the house. It should be added, that, in addition to his partiality for whistling, Mr. Wisbottlehad a great idea of his singing powers. There were two otherboarders, besides the gentleman in the back drawing-room--Mr. Alfred Tomkins and Mr. Frederick O'Bleary. Mr. Tomkins was a clerkin a wine-house; he was a connoisseur in paintings, and had awonderful eye for the picturesque. Mr. O'Bleary was an Irishman, recently imported; he was in a perfectly wild state; and had comeover to England to be an apothecary, a clerk in a governmentoffice, an actor, a reporter, or anything else that turned up--hewas not particular. He was on familiar terms with two small Irishmembers, and got franks for everybody in the house. He feltconvinced that his intrinsic merits must procure him a highdestiny. He wore shepherd's-plaid inexpressibles, and used to lookunder all the ladies' bonnets as he walked along the streets. Hismanners and appearance reminded one of Orson. 

'Here comes Mr. Wisbottle, ' said Tibbs; and Mr. Wisbottle forthwithappeared in blue slippers, and a shawl dressing-gown, whistling 'Dipiacer. '

'Good morning, sir, ' said Tibbs again. It was almost the onlything he ever said to anybody

'How are you, Tibbs?' condescendingly replied the amateur; and hewalked to the window, and whistled louder than ever. 

'Pretty air, that!' said Evenson, with a snarl, and without takinghis eyes off the paper. 

'Glad you like it, ' replied Wisbottle, highly gratified. 

'Don't you think it would sound better, if you whistled it a littlelouder?' inquired the mastiff. 

'No; I don't think it would, ' rejoined the unconscious Wisbottle. 

'I'll tell you what, Wisbottle, ' said Evenson, who had beenbottling up his anger for some hours--'the next time you feeldisposed to whistle "The Light Guitar" at five o'clock in themorning, I'll trouble you to whistle it with your head out o'window. If you don't, I'll learn the triangle--I will, by--'

The entrance of Mrs. Tibbs (with the keys in a little basket)interrupted the threat, and prevented its conclusion. 

Mrs. Tibbs apologised for being down rather late; the bell wasrung; James brought up the urn, and received an unlimited order fordry toast and bacon. Tibbs sat down at the bottom of the table, and began eating water-cresses like a Nebuchadnezzar. Mr. O'Blearyappeared, and Mr. Alfred Tomkins. The compliments of the morningwere exchanged, and the tea was made. 

'God bless me!' exclaimed Tomkins, who had been looking out at thewindow. 'Here--Wisbottle--pray come here--make haste. '

Mr. Wisbottle started from the table, and every one looked up. 

'Do you see, ' said the connoisseur, placing Wisbottle in the rightposition--'a little more this way: there--do you see howsplendidly the light falls upon the left side of that brokenchimney-pot at No. 48?'

'Dear me! I see, ' replied Wisbottle, in a tone of admiration. 

'I never saw an object stand out so beautifully against the clearsky in my life, ' ejaculated Alfred. Everybody (except JohnEvenson) echoed the sentiment; for Mr. Tomkins had a greatcharacter for finding out beauties which no one else coulddiscover--he certainly deserved it. 

'I have frequently observed a chimney-pot in College-green, Dublin, which has a much better effect, ' said the patriotic O'Bleary, whonever allowed Ireland to be outdone on any point. 

The assertion was received with obvious incredulity, for Mr. Tomkins declared that no other chimney-pot in the United Kingdom, broken or unbroken, could be so beautiful as the one at No. 48. 

The room-door was suddenly thrown open, and Agnes appeared, leadingin Mrs. Bloss, who was dressed in a geranium-coloured muslin gown, and displayed a gold watch of huge dimensions; a chain to match;and a splendid assortment of rings, with enormous stones. Ageneral rush was made for a chair, and a regular introduction tookplace. Mr. John Evenson made a slight inclination of the head; Mr. Frederick O'Bleary, Mr. Alfred Tomkins, and Mr. Wisbottle, bowedlike the mandarins in a grocer's shop; Tibbs rubbed hands, and wentround in circles. He was observed to close one eye, and to assumea clock-work sort of expression with the other; this has beenconsidered as a wink, and it has been reported that Agnes was itsobject. We repel the calumny, and challenge contradiction. 

Mrs. Tibbs inquired after Mrs. Bloss's health in a low tone. Mrs. Bloss, with a supreme contempt for the memory of Lindley Murray, answered the various questions in a most satisfactory manner; and apause ensued, during which the eatables disappeared with awfulrapidity. 

'You must have been very much pleased with the appearance of theladies going to the Drawing-room the other day, Mr. O'Bleary?' saidMrs. Tibbs, hoping to start a topic. 

'Yes, ' replied Orson, with a mouthful of toast. 

'Never saw anything like it before, I suppose?' suggestedWisbottle. 

'No--except the Lord Lieutenant's levees, ' replied O'Bleary. 

'Are they at all equal to our drawing-rooms?'

'Oh, infinitely superior!'

'Gad! I don't know, ' said the aristocratic Wisbottle, 'the DowagerMarchioness of Publiccash was most magnificently dressed, and sowas the Baron Slappenbachenhausen. '

'What was he presented on?' inquired Evenson. 

'On his arrival in England. '

'I thought so, ' growled the radical; 'you never hear of thesefellows being presented on their going away again. They knowbetter than that. '

'Unless somebody pervades them with an apintment, ' said Mrs. Bloss, joining in the conversation in a faint voice. 

'Well, ' said Wisbottle, evading the point, 'it's a splendid sight. '

'And did it never occur to you, ' inquired the radical, who neverwould be quiet; 'did it never occur to you, that you pay for theseprecious ornaments of society?'

'It certainly HAS occurred to me, ' said Wisbottle, who thought thisanswer was a poser; 'it HAS occurred to me, and I am willing to payfor them. '

'Well, and it has occurred to me too, ' replied John Evenson, 'and Iain't willing to pay for 'em. Then why should I?--I say, whyshould I?' continued the politician, laying down the paper, andknocking his knuckles on the table. 'There are two greatprinciples--demand--'

'A cup of tea if you please, dear, ' interrupted Tibbs. 

'And supply--'

'May I trouble you to hand this tea to Mr. Tibbs?' said Mrs. Tibbs, interrupting the argument, and unconsciously illustrating it. 

The thread of the orator's discourse was broken. He drank his teaand resumed the paper. 

'If it's very fine, ' said Mr. Alfred Tomkins, addressing thecompany in general, 'I shall ride down to Richmond to-day, and comeback by the steamer. There are some splendid effects of light andshade on the Thames; the contrast between the blueness of the skyand the yellow water is frequently exceedingly beautiful. ' Mr. Wisbottle hummed, 'Flow on, thou shining river. '

'We have some splendid steam-vessels in Ireland, ' said O'Bleary. 

'Certainly, ' said Mrs. Bloss, delighted to find a subject broachedin which she could take part. 

'The accommodations are extraordinary, ' said O'Bleary. 

'Extraordinary indeed, ' returned Mrs. Bloss. 'When Mr. Bloss wasalive, he was promiscuously obligated to go to Ireland on business. I went with him, and raly the manner in which the ladies andgentlemen were accommodated with berths, is not creditable. '

Tibbs, who had been listening to the dialogue, looked aghast, andevinced a strong inclination to ask a question, but was checked bya look from his wife. Mr. Wisbottle laughed, and said Tomkins hadmade a pun; and Tomkins laughed too, and said he had not. 

The remainder of the meal passed off as breakfasts usually do. Conversation flagged, and people played with their teaspoons. Thegentlemen looked out at the window; walked about the room; and, when they got near the door, dropped off one by one. Tibbs retiredto the back parlour by his wife's orders, to check the green-grocer's weekly account; and ultimately Mrs. Tibbs and Mrs. Blosswere left alone together. 

'Oh dear!' said the latter, 'I feel alarmingly faint; it's verysingular. ' (It certainly was, for she had eaten four pounds ofsolids that morning. ) 'By-the-bye, ' said Mrs. Bloss, 'I have notseen Mr. What's-his-name yet. '

'Mr. Gobler?' suggested Mrs. Tibbs. 

'Yes. '

'Oh!' said Mrs. Tibbs, 'he is a most mysterious person. He has hismeals regularly sent up-stairs, and sometimes don't leave his roomfor weeks together. '

'I haven't seen or heard nothing of him, ' repeated Mrs. Bloss. 

'I dare say you'll hear him to-night, ' replied Mrs. Tibbs; 'hegenerally groans a good deal on Sunday evenings. '

'I never felt such an interest in any one in my life, ' ejaculatedMrs. Bloss. A little double-knock interrupted the conversation;Dr. Wosky was announced, and duly shown in. He was a little manwith a red face--dressed of course in black, with a stiff whiteneckerchief. He had a very good practice, and plenty of money, which he had amassed by invariably humouring the worst fancies ofall the females of all the families he had ever been introducedinto. Mrs. Tibbs offered to retire, but was entreated to stay. 

'Well, my dear ma'am, and how are we?' inquired Wosky, in asoothing tone. 

'Very ill, doctor--very ill, ' said Mrs. Bloss, in a whisper

'Ah! we must take care of ourselves;--we must, indeed, ' said theobsequious Wosky, as he felt the pulse of his interesting patient. 

'How is our appetite?'

Mrs. Bloss shook her head. 

'Our friend requires great care, ' said Wosky, appealing to Mrs. Tibbs, who of course assented. 'I hope, however, with the blessingof Providence, that we shall be enabled to make her quite stoutagain. ' Mrs. Tibbs wondered in her own mind what the patient wouldbe when she was made quite stout. 

'We must take stimulants, ' said the cunning Wosky--'plenty ofnourishment, and, above all, we must keep our nerves quiet; wepositively must not give way to our sensibilities. We must takeall we can get, ' concluded the doctor, as he pocketed his fee, 'andwe must keep quiet. '

'Dear man!' exclaimed Mrs. Bloss, as the doctor stepped into thecarriage. 

'Charming creature indeed--quite a lady's man!' said Mrs. Tibbs, and Dr. Wosky rattled away to make fresh gulls of delicate females, and pocket fresh fees. 

As we had occasion, in a former paper, to describe a dinner at Mrs. Tibbs's; and as one meal went off very like another on all ordinaryoccasions; we will not fatigue our readers by entering into anyother detailed account of the domestic economy of theestablishment. We will therefore proceed to events, merelypremising that the mysterious tenant of the back drawing-room was alazy, selfish hypochondriac; always complaining and never ill. Ashis character in many respects closely assimilated to that of Mrs. Bloss, a very warm friendship soon sprung up between them. He wastall, thin, and pale; he always fancied he had a severe painsomewhere or other, and his face invariably wore a pinched, screwed-up expression; he looked, indeed, like a man who had gothis feet in a tub of exceedingly hot water, against his will. 

For two or three months after Mrs. Bloss's first appearance inCoram-street, John Evenson was observed to become, every day, moresarcastic and more ill-natured; and there was a degree ofadditional importance in his manner, which clearly showed that hefancied he had discovered something, which he only wanted a properopportunity of divulging. He found it at last. 

One evening, the different inmates of the house were assembled inthe drawing-room engaged in their ordinary occupations. Mr. Goblerand Mrs. Bloss were sitting at a small card-table near the centrewindow, playing cribbage; Mr. Wisbottle was describing semicircleson the music-stool, turning over the leaves of a book on the piano, and humming most melodiously; Alfred Tomkins was sitting at theround table, with his elbows duly squared, making a pencil sketchof a head considerably larger than his own; O'Bleary was readingHorace, and trying to look as if he understood it; and John Evensonhad drawn his chair close to Mrs. Tibbs's work-table, and wastalking to her very earnestly in a low tone. 

'I can assure you, Mrs. Tibbs, ' said the radical, laying hisforefinger on the muslin she was at work on; 'I can assure you, Mrs. Tibbs, that nothing but the interest I take in your welfarewould induce me to make this communication. I repeat, I fearWisbottle is endeavouring to gain the affections of that youngwoman, Agnes, and that he is in the habit of meeting her in thestore-room on the first floor, over the leads. From my bedroom Idistinctly heard voices there, last night. I opened my doorimmediately, and crept very softly on to the landing; there I sawMr. Tibbs, who, it seems, had been disturbed also. --Bless me, Mrs. Tibbs, you change colour!'

'No, no--it's nothing, ' returned Mrs. T. In a hurried manner; 'it'sonly the heat of the room. '

'A flush!' ejaculated Mrs. Bloss from the card-table; 'that's goodfor four. '

'If I thought it was Mr. Wisbottle, ' said Mrs. Tibbs, after apause, 'he should leave this house instantly. '

'Go!' said Mrs. Bloss again. 

'And if I thought, ' continued the hostess with a most threateningair, 'if I thought he was assisted by Mr. Tibbs--'

'One for his nob!' said Gobler. 

'Oh, ' said Evenson, in a most soothing tone--he liked to makemischief--'I should hope Mr. Tibbs was not in any way implicated. He always appeared to me very harmless. '

'I have generally found him so, ' sobbed poor little Mrs. Tibbs;crying like a watering-pot. 

'Hush! hush! pray--Mrs. Tibbs--consider--we shall be observed--pray, don't!' said John Evenson, fearing his whole plan would beinterrupted. 'We will set the matter at rest with the utmost care, and I shall be most happy to assist you in doing so. ' Mrs. Tibbsmurmured her thanks. 

'When you think every one has retired to rest to-night, ' saidEvenson very pompously, 'if you'll meet me without a light, justoutside my bedroom door, by the staircase window, I think we canascertain who the parties really are, and you will afterwards beenabled to proceed as you think proper. '

Mrs. Tibbs was easily persuaded; her curiosity was excited, herjealousy was roused, and the arrangement was forthwith made. Sheresumed her work, and John Evenson walked up and down the room withhis hands in his pockets, looking as if nothing had happened. Thegame of cribbage was over, and conversation began again. 

'Well, Mr. O'Bleary, ' said the humming-top, turning round on hispivot, and facing the company, 'what did you think of Vauxhall theother night?'

'Oh, it's very fair, ' replied Orson, who had been enthusiasticallydelighted with the whole exhibition. 

'Never saw anything like that Captain Ross's set-out--eh?'

'No, ' returned the patriot, with his usual reservation--'except inDublin. '

'I saw the Count de Canky and Captain Fitzthompson in the Gardens, 'said Wisbottle; 'they appeared much delighted. '

'Then it MUST be beautiful, ' snarled Evenson. 

'I think the white bears is partickerlerly well done, ' suggestedMrs. Bloss. 'In their shaggy white coats, they look just likePolar bears--don't you think they do, Mr. Evenson?'

'I think they look a great deal more like omnibus cads on allfours, ' replied the discontented one. 

'Upon the whole, I should have liked our evening very well, ' gaspedGobler; 'only I caught a desperate cold which increased my paindreadfully! I was obliged to have several shower-baths, before Icould leave my room. '

'Capital things those shower-baths!' ejaculated Wisbottle. 

'Excellent!' said Tomkins. 

'Delightful!' chimed in O'Bleary. (He had once seen one, outside atinman's. )

'Disgusting machines!' rejoined Evenson, who extended his disliketo almost every created object, masculine, feminine, or neuter. 

'Disgusting, Mr. Evenson!' said Gobler, in a tone of strongindignation. --'Disgusting! Look at their utility--consider howmany lives they have saved by promoting perspiration. '

'Promoting perspiration, indeed, ' growled John Evenson, stoppingshort in his walk across the large squares in the pattern of thecarpet--'I was ass enough to be persuaded some time ago to have onein my bedroom. 'Gad, I was in it once, and it effectually curedME, for the mere sight of it threw me into a profuse perspirationfor six months afterwards. '

A titter followed this announcement, and before it had subsidedJames brought up 'the tray, ' containing the remains of a leg oflamb which had made its debut at dinner; bread; cheese; an atom ofbutter in a forest of parsley; one pickled walnut and the third ofanother; and so forth. The boy disappeared, and returned againwith another tray, containing glasses and jugs of hot and coldwater. The gentlemen brought in their spirit-bottles; thehousemaid placed divers plated bedroom candlesticks under the card-table; and the servants retired for the night. 

Chairs were drawn round the table, and the conversation proceededin the customary manner. John Evenson, who never ate supper, lolled on the sofa, and amused himself by contradicting everybody. O'Bleary ate as much as he could conveniently carry, and Mrs. Tibbsfelt a due degree of indignation thereat; Mr. Gobler and Mrs. Blossconversed most affectionately on the subject of pill-taking, andother innocent amusements; and Tomkins and Wisbottle 'got into anargument;' that is to say, they both talked very loudly andvehemently, each flattering himself that he had got some advantageabout something, and neither of them having more than a veryindistinct idea of what they were talking about. An hour or twopassed away; and the boarders and the plated candlesticks retiredin pairs to their respective bedrooms. John Evenson pulled off hisboots, locked his door, and determined to sit up until Mr. Goblerhad retired. He always sat in the drawing-room an hour aftereverybody else had left it, taking medicine, and groaning. 

Great Coram-street was hushed into a state of profound repose: itwas nearly two o'clock. A hackney-coach now and then rumbledslowly by; and occasionally some stray lawyer's clerk, on his wayhome to Somers-town, struck his iron heel on the top of the coal-cellar with a noise resembling the click of a smoke-Jack. A low, monotonous, gushing sound was heard, which added considerably tothe romantic dreariness of the scene. It was the water 'coming in'at number eleven. 

'He must be asleep by this time, ' said John Evenson to himself, after waiting with exemplary patience for nearly an hour after Mr. Gobler had left the drawing-room. He listened for a few moments;the house was perfectly quiet; he extinguished his rushlight, andopened his bedroom door. The staircase was so dark that it wasimpossible to see anything. 

'S-s-s!' whispered the mischief-maker, making a noise like thefirst indication a catherine-wheel gives of the probability of itsgoing off. 

'Hush!' whispered somebody else. 

'Is that you, Mrs. Tibbs?'

'Yes, sir. '

'Where?'

'Here;' and the misty outline of Mrs. Tibbs appeared at thestaircase window, like the ghost of Queen Anne in the tent scene inRichard. 

'This way, Mrs. Tibbs, ' whispered the delighted busybody: 'give meyour hand--there! Whoever these people are, they are in the store-room now, for I have been looking down from my window, and I couldsee that they accidentally upset their candlestick, and are now indarkness. You have no shoes on, have you?'

'No, ' said little Mrs. Tibbs, who could hardly speak for trembling. 

'Well; I have taken my boots off, so we can go down, close to thestore-room door, and listen over the banisters;' and down-stairsthey both crept accordingly, every board creaking like a patentmangle on a Saturday afternoon. 

'It's Wisbottle and somebody, I'll swear, ' exclaimed the radical inan energetic whisper, when they had listened for a few moments. 

'Hush--pray let's hear what they say!' exclaimed Mrs. Tibbs, thegratification of whose curiosity was now paramount to every otherconsideration. 

'Ah! if I could but believe you, ' said a female voice coquettishly, 'I'd be bound to settle my missis for life. '

'What does she say?' inquired Mr. Evenson, who was not quite sowell situated as his companion. 

'She says she'll settle her missis's life, ' replied Mrs. Tibbs. 'The wretch! they're plotting murder. '

'I know you want money, ' continued the voice, which belonged toAgnes; 'and if you'd secure me the five hundred pound, I warrantshe should take fire soon enough. '

'What's that?' inquired Evenson again. He could just hear enoughto want to hear more. 

'I think she says she'll set the house on fire, ' replied theaffrighted Mrs. Tibbs. 'But thank God I'm insured in the Phoenix!'

'The moment I have secured your mistress, my dear, ' said a man'svoice in a strong Irish brogue, 'you may depend on having themoney. '

'Bless my soul, it's Mr. O'Bleary!' exclaimed Mrs. Tibbs, in aparenthesis. 

'The villain!' said the indignant Mr. Evenson. 

'The first thing to be done, ' continued the Hibernian, 'is topoison Mr. Gobler's mind. '

'Oh, certainly, ' returned Agnes. 

'What's that?' inquired Evenson again, in an agony of curiosity anda whisper. 

'He says she's to mind and poison Mr. Gobler, ' replied Mrs. Tibbs, aghast at this sacrifice of human life. 

'And in regard of Mrs. Tibbs, ' continued O'Bleary. --Mrs. Tibbsshuddered. 

'Hush!' exclaimed Agnes, in a tone of the greatest alarm, just asMrs. Tibbs was on the extreme verge of a fainting fit. 'Hush!'

'Hush!' exclaimed Evenson, at the same moment to Mrs. Tibbs. 

'There's somebody coming UP-stairs, ' said Agnes to O'Bleary. 

'There's somebody coming DOWN-stairs, ' whispered Evenson to Mrs. Tibbs. 

'Go into the parlour, sir, ' said Agnes to her companion. 'You willget there, before whoever it is, gets to the top of the kitchenstairs. '

'The drawing-room, Mrs. Tibbs!' whispered the astonished Evenson tohis equally astonished companion; and for the drawing-room theyboth made, plainly hearing the rustling of two persons, one comingdown-stairs, and one coming up. 

'What can it be?' exclaimed Mrs. Tibbs. 'It's like a dream. Iwouldn't be found in this situation for the world!'

'Nor I, ' returned Evenson, who could never bear a joke at his ownexpense. 'Hush! here they are at the door. '

'What fun!' whispered one of the new-comers. --It was Wisbottle. 

'Glorious!' replied his companion, in an equally low tone. --Thiswas Alfred Tomkins. 'Who would have thought it?'

'I told you so, ' said Wisbottle, in a most knowing whisper. 'Lordbless you, he has paid her most extraordinary attention for thelast two months. I saw 'em when I was sitting at the piano to-night. '

'Well, do you know I didn't notice it?' interrupted Tomkins. 

'Not notice it!' continued Wisbottle. 'Bless you; I saw himwhispering to her, and she crying; and then I'll swear I heard himsay something about to-night when we were all in bed. '

'They're talking of US!' exclaimed the agonised Mrs. Tibbs, as thepainful suspicion, and a sense of their situation, flashed upon hermind. 

'I know it--I know it, ' replied Evenson, with a melancholyconsciousness that there was no mode of escape. 

'What's to be done? we cannot both stop here!' ejaculated Mrs. Tibbs, in a state of partial derangement. 

'I'll get up the chimney, ' replied Evenson, who really meant whathe said. 

'You can't, ' said Mrs. Tibbs, in despair. 'You can't--it's aregister stove. '

'Hush!' repeated John Evenson. 

'Hush--hush!' cried somebody down-stairs. 

'What a d-d hushing!' said Alfred Tomkins, who began to get ratherbewildered. 

'There they are!' exclaimed the sapient Wisbottle, as a rustlingnoise was heard in the store-room. 

'Hark!' whispered both the young men. 

'Hark!' repeated Mrs. Tibbs and Evenson. 

'Let me alone, sir, ' said a female voice in the store-room. 

'Oh, Hagnes!' cried another voice, which clearly belonged to Tibbs, for nobody else ever owned one like it, 'Oh, Hagnes--lovelycreature!'

'Be quiet, sir!' (A bounce. )

'Hag--'

'Be quiet, sir--I am ashamed of you. Think of your wife, Mr. Tibbs. Be quiet, sir!'

'My wife!' exclaimed the valorous Tibbs, who was clearly under theinfluence of gin-and-water, and a misplaced attachment; 'I ate her!Oh, Hagnes! when I was in the volunteer corps, in eighteen hundredand--'

'I declare I'll scream. Be quiet, sir, will you?' (Another bounceand a scuffle. )

'What's that?' exclaimed Tibbs, with a start. 

'What's what?' said Agnes, stopping short. 

'Why that!'

'Ah! you have done it nicely now, sir, ' sobbed the frightenedAgnes, as a tapping was heard at Mrs. Tibbs's bedroom door, whichwould have beaten any dozen woodpeckers hollow. 

'Mrs. Tibbs! Mrs. Tibbs!' called out Mrs. Bloss. 'Mrs. Tibbs, pray get up. ' (Here the imitation of a woodpecker was resumed withtenfold violence. )

'Oh, dear--dear!' exclaimed the wretched partner of the depravedTibbs. 'She's knocking at my door. We must be discovered! Whatwill they think?'

'Mrs. Tibbs! Mrs. Tibbs!' screamed the woodpecker again. 

'What's the matter!' shouted Gobler, bursting out of the backdrawing-room, like the dragon at Astley's. 

'Oh, Mr. Gobler!' cried Mrs. Bloss, with a proper approximation tohysterics; 'I think the house is on fire, or else there's thievesin it. I have heard the most dreadful noises!'

'The devil you have!' shouted Gobler again, bouncing back into hisden, in happy imitation of the aforesaid dragon, and returningimmediately with a lighted candle. 'Why, what's this? Wisbottle!Tomkins! O'Bleary! Agnes! What the deuce! all up and dressed?'

'Astonishing!' said Mrs. Bloss, who had run down-stairs, and takenMr. Gobler's arm. 

'Call Mrs. Tibbs directly, somebody, ' said Gobler, turning into thefront drawing-room. --'What! Mrs. Tibbs and Mr. Evenson!!'

'Mrs. Tibbs and Mr. Evenson!' repeated everybody, as that unhappypair were discovered: Mrs. Tibbs seated in an arm-chair by thefireplace, and Mr. Evenson standing by her side, We must leave the scene that ensued to the reader's imagination. We could tell, how Mrs. Tibbs forthwith fainted away, and how itrequired the united strength of Mr. Wisbottle and Mr. AlfredTomkins to hold her in her chair; how Mr. Evenson explained, andhow his explanation was evidently disbelieved; how Agnes repelledthe accusations of Mrs. Tibbs by proving that she was negotiatingwith Mr. O'Bleary to influence her mistress's affections in hisbehalf; and how Mr. Gobler threw a damp counterpane on the hopes ofMr. O'Bleary by avowing that he (Gobler) had already proposed to, and been accepted by, Mrs. Bloss; how Agnes was discharged fromthat lady's service; how Mr. O'Bleary discharged himself from Mrs. Tibbs's house, without going through the form of previouslydischarging his bill; and how that disappointed young gentlemanrails against England and the English, and vows there is no virtueor fine feeling extant, 'except in Ireland. ' We repeat that weCOULD tell all this, but we love to exercise our self-denial, andwe therefore prefer leaving it to be imagined. 

The lady whom we have hitherto described as Mrs. Bloss, is no more. Mrs. Gobler exists: Mrs. Bloss has left us for ever. In asecluded retreat in Newington Butts, far, far removed from thenoisy strife of that great boarding-house, the world, the enviableGobler and his pleasing wife revel in retirement: happy in theircomplaints, their table, and their medicine, wafted through life bythe grateful prayers of all the purveyors of animal food withinthree miles round. 

We would willingly stop here, but we have a painful duty imposedupon us, which we must discharge. Mr. And Mrs. Tibbs haveseparated by mutual consent, Mrs. Tibbs receiving one moiety of43l. 15s. 10d. , which we before stated to be the amount of herhusband's annual income, and Mr. Tibbs the other. He is spendingthe evening of his days in retirement; and he is spending also, annually, that small but honourable independence. He resides amongthe original settlers at Walworth; and it has been stated, onunquestionable authority, that the conclusion of the volunteerstory has been heard in a small tavern in that respectableneighbourhood. 

The unfortunate Mrs. Tibbs has determined to dispose of the wholeof her furniture by public auction, and to retire from a residencein which she has suffered so much. Mr. Robins has been applied to, to conduct the sale, and the transcendent abilities of the literarygentlemen connected with his establishment are now devoted to thetask of drawing up the preliminary advertisement. It is tocontain, among a variety of brilliant matter, seventy-eight wordsin large capitals, and six original quotations in inverted commas. 

CHAPTER II--MR. MINNS AND HIS COUSIN

Mr. Augustus Minns was a bachelor, of about forty as he said--ofabout eight-and-forty as his friends said. He was alwaysexceedingly clean, precise, and tidy; perhaps somewhat priggish, and the most retiring man in the world. He usually wore a brownfrock-coat without a wrinkle, light inexplicables without a spot, aneat neckerchief with a remarkably neat tie, and boots without afault; moreover, he always carried a brown silk umbrella with anivory handle. He was a clerk in Somerset-house, or, as he saidhimself, he held 'a responsible situation under Government. ' Hehad a good and increasing salary, in addition to some 10, 000l. Ofhis own (invested in the funds), and he occupied a first floor inTavistock-street, Covent-garden, where he had resided for twentyyears, having been in the habit of quarrelling with his landlordthe whole time: regularly giving notice of his intention to quiton the first day of every quarter, and as regularly countermandingit on the second. There were two classes of created objects whichhe held in the deepest and most unmingled horror; these were dogs, and children. He was not unamiable, but he could, at any time, have viewed the execution of a dog, or the assassination of aninfant, with the liveliest satisfaction. Their habits were atvariance with his love of order; and his love of order was aspowerful as his love of life. Mr. Augustus Minns had no relations, in or near London, with the exception of his cousin, Mr. OctaviusBudden, to whose son, whom he had never seen (for he disliked thefather), he had consented to become godfather by proxy. Mr. Buddenhaving realised a moderate fortune by exercising the trade orcalling of a corn-chandler, and having a great predilection for thecountry, had purchased a cottage in the vicinity of Stamford-hill, whither he retired with the wife of his bosom, and his only son, Master Alexander Augustus Budden. One evening, as Mr. And Mrs. B. Were admiring their son, discussing his various merits, talkingover his education, and disputing whether the classics should bemade an essential part thereof, the lady pressed so strongly uponher husband the propriety of cultivating the friendship of Mr. Minns in behalf of their son, that Mr. Budden at last made up hismind, that it should not be his fault if he and his cousin were notin future more intimate. 

'I'll break the ice, my love, ' said Mr. Budden, stirring up thesugar at the bottom of his glass of brandy-and-water, and casting asidelong look at his spouse to see the effect of the announcementof his determination, 'by asking Minns down to dine with us, onSunday. '

'Then pray, Budden, write to your cousin at once, ' replied Mrs. Budden. 'Who knows, if we could only get him down here, but hemight take a fancy to our Alexander, and leave him his property?--Alick, my dear, take your legs off the rail of the chair!'

'Very true, ' said Mr. Budden, musing, 'very true indeed, my love!'On the following morning, as Mr. Minns was sitting at hisbreakfast-table, alternately biting his dry toast and casting alook upon the columns of his morning paper, which he always readfrom the title to the printer's name, he heard a loud knock at thestreet-door; which was shortly afterwards followed by the entranceof his servant, who put into his hands a particularly small card, on which was engraven in immense letters, 'Mr. Octavius Budden, Amelia Cottage (Mrs. B. 's name was Amelia), Poplar-walk, Stamford-hill. '

'Budden!' ejaculated Minns, 'what can bring that vulgar man here!--say I'm asleep--say I'm out, and shall never be home again--anything to keep him down-stairs. '

'But please, sir, the gentleman's coming up, ' replied the servant, and the fact was made evident, by an appalling creaking of boots onthe staircase accompanied by a pattering noise; the cause of which, Minns could not, for the life of him, divine. 

'Hem--show the gentleman in, ' said the unfortunate bachelor. Exitservant, and enter Octavius preceded by a large white dog, dressedin a suit of fleecy hosiery, with pink eyes, large ears, and noperceptible tail. 

The cause of the pattering on the stairs was but too plain. Mr. Augustus Minns staggered beneath the shock of the dog's appearance. 

'My dear fellow, how are you?' said Budden, as he entered. 

He always spoke at the top of his voice, and always said the samething half-a-dozen times. 

'How are you, my hearty?'

'How do you do, Mr. Budden?--pray take a chair!' politely stammeredthe discomfited Minns. 

'Thank you--thank you--well--how are you, eh?'

'Uncommonly well, thank you, ' said Minns, casting a diabolical lookat the dog, who, with his hind legs on the floor, and his fore pawsresting on the table, was dragging a bit of bread and butter out ofa plate, preparatory to devouring it, with the buttered side nextthe carpet. 

'Ah, you rogue!' said Budden to his dog; 'you see, Minns, he's likeme, always at home, eh, my boy!--Egad, I'm precious hot and hungry!I've walked all the way from Stamford-hill this morning. '

'Have you breakfasted?' inquired Minns. 

'Oh, no!--came to breakfast with you; so ring the bell, my dearfellow, will you? and let's have another cup and saucer, and thecold ham. --Make myself at home, you see!' continued Budden, dustinghis boots with a table-napkin. 'Ha!--ha!--ha! -'pon my life, I'mhungry. '

Minns rang the bell, and tried to smile. 

'I decidedly never was so hot in my life, ' continued Octavius, wiping his forehead; 'well, but how are you, Minns? 'Pon my soul, you wear capitally!'

'D'ye think so?' said Minns; and he tried another smile. 

''Pon my life, I do!'

'Mrs. B. And--what's his name--quite well?'

'Alick--my son, you mean; never better--never better. But at sucha place as we've got at Poplar-walk, you know, he couldn't be illif he tried. When I first saw it, by Jove! it looked so knowing, with the front garden, and the green railings and the brassknocker, and all that--I really thought it was a cut above me. '

'Don't you think you'd like the ham better, ' interrupted Minns, 'ifyou cut it the other way?' He saw, with feelings which it isimpossible to describe, that his visitor was cutting or rathermaiming the ham, in utter violation of all established rules. 

'No, thank ye, ' returned Budden, with the most barbarousindifference to crime, 'I prefer it this way, it eats short. But Isay, Minns, when will you come down and see us? You will bedelighted with the place; I know you will. Amelia and I weretalking about you the other night, and Amelia said--another lump ofsugar, please; thank ye--she said, don't you think you couldcontrive, my dear, to say to Mr. Minns, in a friendly way--comedown, sir--damn the dog! he's spoiling your curtains, Minns--ha!--ha!--ha!' Minns leaped from his seat as though he had received thedischarge from a galvanic battery. 

'Come out, sir!--go out, hoo!' cried poor Augustus, keeping, nevertheless, at a very respectful distance from the dog; havingread of a case of hydrophobia in the paper of that morning. Bydint of great exertion, much shouting, and a marvellous deal ofpoking under the tables with a stick and umbrella, the dog was atlast dislodged, and placed on the landing outside the door, wherehe immediately commenced a most appalling howling; at the same timevehemently scratching the paint off the two nicely-varnished bottompanels, until they resembled the interior of a backgammon-board. 

'A good dog for the country that!' coolly observed Budden to thedistracted Minns, 'but he's not much used to confinement. But now, Minns, when will you come down? I'll take no denial, positively. Let's see, to-day's Thursday. --Will you come on Sunday? We dine atfive, don't say no--do. '

After a great deal of pressing, Mr. Augustus Minns, driven todespair, accepted the invitation, and promised to be at Poplar-walkon the ensuing Sunday, at a quarter before five to the minute. 

'Now mind the direction, ' said Budden: 'the coach goes from theFlower-pot, in Bishopsgate-street, every half hour. When the coachstops at the Swan, you'll see, immediately opposite you, a whitehouse. '

'Which is your house--I understand, ' said Minns, wishing to cutshort the visit, and the story, at the same time. 

'No, no, that's not mine; that's Grogus's, the great ironmonger's. I was going to say--you turn down by the side of the white housetill you can't go another step further--mind that!--and then youturn to your right, by some stables--well; close to you, you'll seea wall with "Beware of the Dog" written on it in large letters--(Minns shuddered)--go along by the side of that wall for about aquarter of a mile--and anybody will show you which is my place. '

'Very well--thank ye--good-bye. '

'Be punctual. '

'Certainly: good morning. '

'I say, Minns, you've got a card. '

'Yes, I have; thank ye. ' And Mr. Octavius Budden departed, leavinghis cousin looking forward to his visit on the following Sunday, with the feelings of a penniless poet to the weekly visit of hisScotch landlady. 

Sunday arrived; the sky was bright and clear; crowds of people werehurrying along the streets, intent on their different schemes ofpleasure for the day; everything and everybody looked cheerful andhappy except Mr. Augustus Minns. 

The day was fine, but the heat was considerable; when Mr. Minns hadfagged up the shady side of Fleet-street, Cheapside, andThreadneedle-street, he had become pretty warm, tolerably dusty, and it was getting late into the bargain. By the mostextraordinary good fortune, however, a coach was waiting at theFlower-pot, into which Mr. Augustus Minns got, on the solemnassurance of the cad that the vehicle would start in three minutes--that being the very utmost extremity of time it was allowed towait by Act of Parliament. A quarter of an hour elapsed, and therewere no signs of moving. Minns looked at his watch for the sixthtime. 

'Coachman, are you going or not?' bawled Mr. Minns, with his headand half his body out of the coach window. 

'Di-rectly, sir, ' said the coachman, with his hands in his pockets, looking as much unlike a man in a hurry as possible. 

'Bill, take them cloths off. ' Five minutes more elapsed: at theend of which time the coachman mounted the box, from whence helooked down the street, and up the street, and hailed all thepedestrians for another five minutes. 

'Coachman! if you don't go this moment, I shall get out, ' said Mr. Minns, rendered desperate by the lateness of the hour, and theimpossibility of being in Poplar-walk at the appointed time. 

'Going this minute, sir, ' was the reply;--and, accordingly, themachine trundled on for a couple of hundred yards, and then stoppedagain. Minns doubled himself up in a corner of the coach, andabandoned himself to his fate, as a child, a mother, a bandbox anda parasol, became his fellow-passengers. 

The child was an affectionate and an amiable infant; the littledear mistook Minns for his other parent, and screamed to embracehim. 

'Be quiet, dear, ' said the mamma, restraining the impetuosity ofthe darling, whose little fat legs were kicking, and stamping, andtwining themselves into the most complicated forms, in an ecstasyof impatience. 'Be quiet, dear, that's not your papa. '

'Thank Heaven I am not!' thought Minns, as the first gleam ofpleasure he had experienced that morning shone like a meteorthrough his wretchedness. 

Playfulness was agreeably mingled with affection in the dispositionof the boy. When satisfied that Mr. Minns was not his parent, heendeavoured to attract his notice by scraping his drab trouserswith his dirty shoes, poking his chest with his mamma's parasol, and other nameless endearments peculiar to infancy, with which hebeguiled the tediousness of the ride, apparently very much to hisown satisfaction. 

When the unfortunate gentleman arrived at the Swan, he found to hisgreat dismay, that it was a quarter past five. The white house, the stables, the 'Beware of the Dog, '--every landmark was passed, with a rapidity not unusual to a gentleman of a certain age whentoo late for dinner. After the lapse of a few minutes, Mr. Minnsfound himself opposite a yellow brick house with a green door, brass knocker, and door-plate, green window-frames and dittorailings, with 'a garden' in front, that is to say, a small loosebit of gravelled ground, with one round and two scalene triangularbeds, containing a fir-tree, twenty or thirty bulbs, and anunlimited number of marigolds. The taste of Mr. And Mrs. Buddenwas further displayed by the appearance of a Cupid on each side ofthe door, perched upon a heap of large chalk flints, variegatedwith pink conch-shells. His knock at the door was answered by astumpy boy, in drab livery, cotton stockings and high-lows, who, after hanging his hat on one of the dozen brass pegs whichornamented the passage, denominated by courtesy 'The Hall, ' usheredhim into a front drawing-room commanding a very extensive view ofthe backs of the neighbouring houses. The usual ceremony ofintroduction, and so forth, over, Mr. Minns took his seat: not alittle agitated at finding that he was the last comer, and, somehowor other, the Lion of about a dozen people, sitting together in asmall drawing-room, getting rid of that most tedious of all time, the time preceding dinner. 

'Well, Brogson, ' said Budden, addressing an elderly gentleman in ablack coat, drab knee-breeches, and long gaiters, who, underpretence of inspecting the prints in an Annual, had been engaged insatisfying himself on the subject of Mr. Minns's generalappearance, by looking at him over the tops of the leaves--'Well, Brogson, what do ministers mean to do? Will they go out, or what?'

'Oh--why--really, you know, I'm the last person in the world to askfor news. Your cousin, from his situation, is the most likelyperson to answer the question. '

Mr. Minns assured the last speaker, that although he was inSomerset-house, he possessed no official communication relative tothe projects of his Majesty's Ministers. But his remark wasevidently received incredulously; and no further conjectures beinghazarded on the subject, a long pause ensued, during which thecompany occupied themselves in coughing and blowing their noses, until the entrance of Mrs. Budden caused a general rise. 

The ceremony of introduction being over, dinner was announced, anddown-stairs the party proceeded accordingly--Mr. Minns escortingMrs. Budden as far as the drawing-room door, but being prevented, by the narrowness of the staircase, from extending his gallantryany farther. The dinner passed off as such dinners usually do. Ever and anon, amidst the clatter of knives and forks, and the humof conversation, Mr. B. 's voice might be heard, asking a friend totake wine, and assuring him he was glad to see him; and a greatdeal of by-play took place between Mrs. B. And the servants, respecting the removal of the dishes, during which her countenanceassumed all the variations of a weather-glass, from 'stormy' to'set fair. '

Upon the dessert and wine being placed on the table, the servant, in compliance with a significant look from Mrs. B. , brought down'Master Alexander, ' habited in a sky-blue suit with silver buttons;and possessing hair of nearly the same colour as the metal. Aftersundry praises from his mother, and various admonitions as to hisbehaviour from his father, he was introduced to his godfather. 

'Well, my little fellow--you are a fine boy, ain't you?' said Mr. Minns, as happy as a tomtit on birdlime. 

'Yes. '

'How old are you?'

'Eight, next We'nsday. How old are YOU?'

'Alexander, ' interrupted his mother, 'how dare you ask Mr. Minnshow old he is!'

'He asked me how old _I_ was, ' said the precocious child, to whomMinns had from that moment internally resolved that he never wouldbequeath one shilling. As soon as the titter occasioned by theobservation had subsided, a little smirking man with red whiskers, sitting at the bottom of the table, who during the whole of dinnerhad been endeavouring to obtain a listener to some stories aboutSheridan, called, out, with a very patronising air, 'Alick, whatpart of speech is BE. '

'A verb. '

'That's a good boy, ' said Mrs. Budden, with all a mother's pride. 

'Now, you know what a verb is?'

'A verb is a word which signifies to be, to do, or to suffer; as, Iam--I rule--I am ruled. Give me an apple, Ma. '

'I'll give you an apple, ' replied the man with the red whiskers, who was an established friend of the family, or in other words wasalways invited by Mrs. Budden, whether Mr. Budden liked it or not, 'if you'll tell me what is the meaning of BE. '

'Be?' said the prodigy, after a little hesitation--'an insect thatgathers honey. '

'No, dear, ' frowned Mrs. Budden; 'B double E is the substantive. '

'I don't think he knows much yet about COMMON substantives, ' saidthe smirking gentleman, who thought this an admirable opportunityfor letting off a joke. 'It's clear he's not very well acquaintedwith PROPER NAMES. He! he! he!'

'Gentlemen, ' called out Mr. Budden, from the end of the table, in astentorian voice, and with a very important air, 'will you have thegoodness to charge your glasses? I have a toast to propose. '

'Hear! hear!' cried the gentlemen, passing the decanters. Afterthey had made the round of the table, Mr. Budden proceeded--'Gentlemen; there is an individual present--'

'Hear! hear!' said the little man with red whiskers. 

'PRAY be quiet, Jones, ' remonstrated Budden. 

'I say, gentlemen, there is an individual present, ' resumed thehost, 'in whose society, I am sure we must take great delight--and--and--the conversation of that individual must have afforded toevery one present, the utmost pleasure. ' ['Thank Heaven, he doesnot mean me!' thought Minns, conscious that his diffidence andexclusiveness had prevented his saying above a dozen words since heentered the house. ] 'Gentlemen, I am but a humble individualmyself, and I perhaps ought to apologise for allowing anyindividual feeling of friendship and affection for the person Iallude to, to induce me to venture to rise, to propose the healthof that person--a person that, I am sure--that is to say, a personwhose virtues must endear him to those who know him--and those whohave not the pleasure of knowing him, cannot dislike him. '

'Hear! hear!' said the company, in a tone of encouragement andapproval. 

'Gentlemen, ' continued Budden, 'my cousin is a man who--who is arelation of my own. ' (Hear! hear!) Minns groaned audibly. 'Who Iam most happy to see here, and who, if he were not here, wouldcertainly have deprived us of the great pleasure we all feel inseeing him. (Loud cries of hear!) Gentlemen, I feel that I havealready trespassed on your attention for too long a time. Withevery feeling--of--with every sentiment of--of--'

'Gratification'--suggested the friend of the family. 

'- Of gratification, I beg to propose the health of Mr. Minns. '

'Standing, gentlemen!' shouted the indefatigable little man withthe whiskers--'and with the honours. Take your time from me, ifyou please. Hip! hip! hip!--Za!--Hip! hip! hip!--Za!--Hip hip!--Za-a-a!'

All eyes were now fixed on the subject of the toast, who by gulpingdown port wine at the imminent hazard of suffocation, endeavouredto conceal his confusion. After as long a pause as decency wouldadmit, he rose, but, as the newspapers sometimes say in theirreports, 'we regret that we are quite unable to give even thesubstance of the honourable gentleman's observations. ' The words'present company--honour--present occasion, ' and 'great happiness'--heard occasionally, and repeated at intervals, with a countenanceexpressive of the utmost confusion and misery, convinced thecompany that he was making an excellent speech; and, accordingly, on his resuming his seat, they cried 'Bravo!' and manifestedtumultuous applause. Jones, who had been long watching hisopportunity, then darted up. 

'Budden, ' said he, 'will you allow ME to propose a toast?'

'Certainly, ' replied Budden, adding in an under-tone to Minns rightacross the table, 'Devilish sharp fellow that: you'll be very muchpleased with his speech. He talks equally well on any subject. 'Minns bowed, and Mr. Jones proceeded:

'It has on several occasions, in various instances, under manycircumstances, and in different companies, fallen to my lot topropose a toast to those by whom, at the time, I have had thehonour to be surrounded, I have sometimes, I will cheerfully own--for why should I deny it?--felt the overwhelming nature of the taskI have undertaken, and my own utter incapability to do justice tothe subject. If such have been my feelings, however, on formeroccasions, what must they be now--now--under the extraordinarycircumstances in which I am placed. (Hear! hear!) To describe myfeelings accurately, would be impossible; but I cannot give you abetter idea of them, gentlemen, than by referring to a circumstancewhich happens, oddly enough, to occur to my mind at the moment. Onone occasion, when that truly great and illustrious man, Sheridan, was--'

Now, there is no knowing what new villainy in the form of a jokewould have been heaped on the grave of that very ill-used man, Mr. Sheridan, if the boy in drab had not at that moment entered theroom in a breathless state, to report that, as it was a very wetnight, the nine o'clock stage had come round, to know whether therewas anybody going to town, as, in that case, he (the nine o'clock)had room for one inside. 

Mr. Minns started up; and, despite countless exclamations ofsurprise, and entreaties to stay, persisted in his determination toaccept the vacant place. But, the brown silk umbrella was nowhereto be found; and as the coachman couldn't wait, he drove back tothe Swan, leaving word for Mr. Minns to 'run round' and catch him. However, as it did not occur to Mr. Minns for some ten minutes orso, that he had left the brown silk umbrella with the ivory handlein the other coach, coming down; and, moreover, as he was by nomeans remarkable for speed, it is no matter of surprise that whenhe accomplished the feat of 'running round' to the Swan, the coach--the last coach--had gone without him. 

It was somewhere about three o'clock in the morning, when Mr. Augustus Minns knocked feebly at the street-door of his lodgings inTavistock-street, cold, wet, cross, and miserable. He made hiswill next morning, and his professional man informs us, in thatstrict confidence in which we inform the public, that neither thename of Mr. Octavius Budden, nor of Mrs. Amelia Budden, nor ofMaster Alexander Augustus Budden, appears therein. 

CHAPTER III--SENTIMENT

The Miss Crumptons, or to quote the authority of the inscription onthe garden-gate of Minerva House, Hammersmith, 'The MissesCrumpton, ' were two unusually tall, particularly thin, andexceedingly skinny personages: very upright, and very yellow. Miss Amelia Crumpton owned to thirty-eight, and Miss Maria Crumptonadmitted she was forty; an admission which was rendered perfectlyunnecessary by the self-evident fact of her being at least fifty. They dressed in the most interesting manner--like twins! and lookedas happy and comfortable as a couple of marigolds run to seed. They were very precise, had the strictest possible ideas ofpropriety, wore false hair, and always smelt very strongly oflavender. 

Minerva House, conducted under the auspices of the two sisters, wasa 'finishing establishment for young ladies, ' where some twentygirls of the ages of from thirteen to nineteen inclusive, acquireda smattering of everything, and a knowledge of nothing; instructionin French and Italian, dancing lessons twice a-week; and othernecessaries of life. The house was a white one, a little removedfrom the roadside, with close palings in front. The bedroomwindows were always left partly open, to afford a bird's-eye viewof numerous little bedsteads with very white dimity furniture, andthereby impress the passer-by with a due sense of the luxuries ofthe establishment; and there was a front parlour hung round withhighly varnished maps which nobody ever looked at, and filled withbooks which no one ever read, appropriated exclusively to thereception of parents, who, whenever they called, could not fail tobe struck with the very deep appearance of the place. 

'Amelia, my dear, ' said Miss Maria Crumpton, entering the school-room one morning, with her false hair in papers: as sheoccasionally did, in order to impress the young ladies with aconviction of its reality. 'Amelia, my dear, here is a mostgratifying note I have just received. You needn't mind reading italoud. '

Miss Amelia, thus advised, proceeded to read the following notewith an air of great triumph:

'Cornelius Brook Dingwall, Esq. , M. P. , presents his compliments toMiss Crumpton, and will feel much obliged by Miss Crumpton'scalling on him, if she conveniently can, to-morrow morning at oneo'clock, as Cornelius Brook Dingwall, Esq. , M. P. , is anxious to seeMiss Crumpton on the subject of placing Miss Brook Dingwall underher charge. 

'Adelphi. 

'Monday morning. '

'A Member of Parliament's daughter!' ejaculated Amelia, in anecstatic tone. 

'A Member of Parliament's daughter!' repeated Miss Maria, with asmile of delight, which, of course, elicited a concurrent titter ofpleasure from all the young ladies. 

'It's exceedingly delightful!' said Miss Amelia; whereupon all theyoung ladies murmured their admiration again. Courtiers are butschool-boys, and court-ladies school-girl's. 

So important an announcement at once superseded the business of theday. A holiday was declared, in commemoration of the great event;the Miss Crumptons retired to their private apartment to talk itover; the smaller girls discussed the probable manners and customsof the daughter of a Member of Parliament; and the young ladiesverging on eighteen wondered whether she was engaged, whether shewas pretty, whether she wore much bustle, and many other WHETHERSof equal importance. 

The two Miss Crumptons proceeded to the Adelphi at the appointedtime next day, dressed, of course, in their best style, and lookingas amiable as they possibly could--which, by-the-bye, is not sayingmuch for them. Having sent in their cards, through the medium of ared-hot looking footman in bright livery, they were ushered intothe august presence of the profound Dingwall. 

Cornelius Brook Dingwall, Esq. , M. P. , was very haughty, solemn, andportentous. He had, naturally, a somewhat spasmodic expression ofcountenance, which was not rendered the less remarkable by hiswearing an extremely stiff cravat. He was wonderfully proud of theM. P. Attached to his name, and never lost an opportunity ofreminding people of his dignity. He had a great idea of his ownabilities, which must have been a great comfort to him, as no oneelse had; and in diplomacy, on a small scale, in his own familyarrangements, he considered himself unrivalled. He was a countymagistrate, and discharged the duties of his station with all duejustice and impartiality; frequently committing poachers, andoccasionally committing himself. Miss Brook Dingwall was one ofthat numerous class of young ladies, who, like adverbs, may beknown by their answering to a commonplace question, and doingnothing else. 

On the present occasion, this talented individual was seated in asmall library at a table covered with papers, doing nothing, buttrying to look busy, playing at shop. Acts of Parliament, andletters directed to 'Cornelius Brook Dingwall, Esq. , M. P. , ' wereostentatiously scattered over the table; at a little distance fromwhich, Mrs. Brook Dingwall was seated at work. One of those publicnuisances, a spoiled child, was playing about the room, dressedafter the most approved fashion--in a blue tunic with a black belt--a quarter of a yard wide, fastened with an immense buckle--lookinglike a robber in a melodrama, seen through a diminishing glass. 

After a little pleasantry from the sweet child, who amused himselfby running away with Miss Maria Crumpton's chair as fast as it wasplaced for her, the visitors were seated, and Cornelius BrookDingwall, Esq. , opened the conversation. 

He had sent for Miss Crumpton, he said, in consequence of the highcharacter he had received of her establishment from his friend, SirAlfred Muggs. 

Miss Crumpton murmured her acknowledgments to him (Muggs), andCornelius proceeded. 

'One of my principal reasons, Miss Crumpton, for parting with mydaughter, is, that she has lately acquired some sentimental ideas, which it is most desirable to eradicate from her young mind. '(Here the little innocent before noticed, fell out of an arm-chairwith an awful crash. )

'Naughty boy!' said his mamma, who appeared more surprised at histaking the liberty of falling down, than at anything else; 'I'llring the bell for James to take him away. '

'Pray don't check him, my love, ' said the diplomatist, as soon ashe could make himself heard amidst the unearthly howling consequentupon the threat and the tumble. 'It all arises from his great flowof spirits. ' This last explanation was addressed to Miss Crumpton. 

'Certainly, sir, ' replied the antique Maria: not exactly seeing, however, the connexion between a flow of animal spirits, and a fallfrom an arm-chair. 

Silence was restored, and the M. P. Resumed: 'Now, I know nothingso likely to effect this object, Miss Crumpton, as her mixingconstantly in the society of girls of her own age; and, as I knowthat in your establishment she will meet such as are not likely tocontaminate her young mind, I propose to send her to you. '

The youngest Miss Crumpton expressed the acknowledgments of theestablishment generally. Maria was rendered speechless by bodilypain. The dear little fellow, having recovered his animal spirits, was standing upon her most tender foot, by way of getting his face(which looked like a capital O in a red-lettered play-bill) on alevel with the writing-table. 

'Of course, Lavinia will be a parlour boarder, ' continued theenviable father; 'and on one point I wish my directions to bestrictly observed. The fact is, that some ridiculous love affair, with a person much her inferior in life, has been the cause of herpresent state of mind. Knowing that of course, under your care, she can have no opportunity of meeting this person, I do not objectto--indeed, I should rather prefer--her mixing with such society asyou see yourself. '

This important statement was again interrupted by the high-spiritedlittle creature, in the excess of his joyousness breaking a pane ofglass, and nearly precipitating himself into an adjacent area. James was rung for; considerable confusion and screaming succeeded;two little blue legs were seen to kick violently in the air as theman left the room, and the child was gone. 

'Mr. Brook Dingwall would like Miss Brook Dingwall to learneverything, ' said Mrs. Brook Dingwall, who hardly ever saidanything at all. 

'Certainly, ' said both the Miss Crumptons together. 

'And as I trust the plan I have devised will be effectual inweaning my daughter from this absurd idea, Miss Crumpton, 'continued the legislator, 'I hope you will have the goodness tocomply, in all respects, with any request I may forward to you. '

The promise was of course made; and after a lengthened discussion, conducted on behalf of the Dingwalls with the most becomingdiplomatic gravity, and on that of the Crumptons with profoundrespect, it was finally arranged that Miss Lavinia should beforwarded to Hammersmith on the next day but one, on which occasionthe half-yearly ball given at the establishment was to take place. It might divert the dear girl's mind. This, by the way, wasanother bit of diplomacy. 

Miss Lavinia was introduced to her future governess, and both theMiss Crumptons pronounced her 'a most charming girl;' an opinionwhich, by a singular coincidence, they always entertained of anynew pupil. 

Courtesies were exchanged, acknowledgments expressed, condescensionexhibited, and the interview terminated. 

Preparations, to make use of theatrical phraseology, 'on a scale ofmagnitude never before attempted, ' were incessantly made at MinervaHouse to give every effect to the forthcoming ball. The largestroom in the house was pleasingly ornamented with blue calico roses, plaid tulips, and other equally natural-looking artificial flowers, the work of the young ladies themselves. The carpet was taken up, the folding-doors were taken down, the furniture was taken out, androut-seats were taken in. The linen-drapers of Hammersmith wereastounded at the sudden demand for blue sarsenet ribbon, and longwhite gloves. Dozens of geraniums were purchased for bouquets, anda harp and two violins were bespoke from town, in addition to thegrand piano already on the premises. The young ladies who wereselected to show off on the occasion, and do credit to theestablishment, practised incessantly, much to their ownsatisfaction, and greatly to the annoyance of the lame oldgentleman over the way; and a constant correspondence was kept up, between the Misses Crumpton and the Hammersmith pastrycook. 

The evening came; and then there was such a lacing of stays, andtying of sandals, and dressing of hair, as never can take placewith a proper degree of bustle out of a boarding-school. Thesmaller girls managed to be in everybody's way, and were pushedabout accordingly; and the elder ones dressed, and tied, andflattered, and envied, one another, as earnestly and sincerely asif they had actually COME OUT. 

'How do I look, dear?' inquired Miss Emily Smithers, the belle ofthe house, of Miss Caroline Wilson, who was her bosom friend, because she was the ugliest girl in Hammersmith, or out of it. 

'Oh! charming, dear. How do I?'

'Delightful! you never looked so handsome, ' returned the belle, adjusting her own dress, and not bestowing a glance on her poorcompanion. 

'I hope young Hilton will come early, ' said another young lady toMiss somebody else, in a fever of expectation. 

'I'm sure he'd be highly flattered if he knew it, ' returned theother, who was practising l'ete. 

'Oh! he's so handsome, ' said the first. 

'Such a charming person!' added a second. 

'Such a distingue air!' said a third. 

'Oh, what DO you think?' said another girl, running into the room;'Miss Crumpton says her cousin's coming. '

'What! Theodosius Butler?' said everybody in raptures. 

'Is HE handsome?' inquired a novice. 

'No, not particularly handsome, ' was the general reply; 'but, oh, so clever!'

Mr. Theodosius Butler was one of those immortal geniuses who are tobe met with in almost every circle. They have, usually, very deep, monotonous voices. They always persuade themselves that they arewonderful persons, and that they ought to be very miserable, thoughthey don't precisely know why. They are very conceited, andusually possess half an idea; but, with enthusiastic young ladies, and silly young gentlemen, they are very wonderful persons. Theindividual in question, Mr. Theodosius, had written a pamphletcontaining some very weighty considerations on the expediency ofdoing something or other; and as every sentence contained a goodmany words of four syllables, his admirers took it for granted thathe meant a good deal. 

'Perhaps that's he, ' exclaimed several young ladies, as the firstpull of the evening threatened destruction to the bell of the gate. 

An awful pause ensued. Some boxes arrived and a young lady--MissBrook Dingwall, in full ball costume, with an immense gold chainround her neck, and her dress looped up with a single rose; anivory fan in her hand, and a most interesting expression of despairin her face. 

The Miss Crumptons inquired after the family, with the mostexcruciating anxiety, and Miss Brook Dingwall was formallyintroduced to her future companions. The Miss Crumptons conversedwith the young ladies in the most mellifluous tones, in order thatMiss Brook Dingwall might be properly impressed with their amiabletreatment. 

Another pull at the bell. Mr. Dadson the writing-master, and hiswife. The wife in green silk, with shoes and cap-trimmings tocorrespond: the writing-master in a white waistcoat, black knee-shorts, and ditto silk stockings, displaying a leg large enough fortwo writing-masters. The young ladies whispered one another, andthe writing-master and his wife flattered the Miss Crumptons, whowere dressed in amber, with long sashes, like dolls. 

Repeated pulls at the bell, and arrivals too numerous toparticularise: papas and mammas, and aunts and uncles, the ownersand guardians of the different pupils; the singing-master, SignorLobskini, in a black wig; the piano-forte player and the violins;the harp, in a state of intoxication; and some twenty young men, who stood near the door, and talked to one another, occasionallybursting into a giggle. A general hum of conversation. Coffeehanded round, and plentifully partaken of by fat mammas, who lookedlike the stout people who come on in pantomimes for the solepurpose of being knocked down. 

The popular Mr. Hilton was the next arrival; and he having, at therequest of the Miss Crumptons, undertaken the office of Master ofthe Ceremonies, the quadrilles commenced with considerable spirit. The young men by the door gradually advanced into the middle of theroom, and in time became sufficiently at ease to consent to beintroduced to partners. The writing-master danced every set, springing about with the most fearful agility, and his wife playeda rubber in the back-parlour--a little room with five book-shelves, dignified by the name of the study. Setting her down to whist wasa half-yearly piece of generalship on the part of the MissCrumptons; it was necessary to hide her somewhere, on account ofher being a fright. 

The interesting Lavinia Brook Dingwall was the only girl present, who appeared to take no interest in the proceedings of the evening. In vain was she solicited to dance; in vain was the universalhomage paid to her as the daughter of a member of parliament. Shewas equally unmoved by the splendid tenor of the inimitableLobskini, and the brilliant execution of Miss Laetitia Parsons, whose performance of 'The Recollections of Ireland' was universallydeclared to be almost equal to that of Moscheles himself. Not eventhe announcement of the arrival of Mr. Theodosius Butler couldinduce her to leave the corner of the back drawing-room in whichshe was seated. 

'Now, Theodosius, ' said Miss Maria Crumpton, after that enlightenedpamphleteer had nearly run the gauntlet of the whole company, 'Imust introduce you to our new pupil. '

Theodosius looked as if he cared for nothing earthly. 

'She's the daughter of a member of parliament, ' said Maria. --Theodosius started. 

'And her name is--?' he inquired. 

'Miss Brook Dingwall. '

'Great Heaven!' poetically exclaimed Theodosius, in a low tone. 

Miss Crumpton commenced the introduction in due form. Miss BrookDingwall languidly raised her head. 

'Edward!' she exclaimed, with a half-shriek, on seeing the well-known nankeen legs. 

Fortunately, as Miss Maria Crumpton possessed no remarkable shareof penetration, and as it was one of the diplomatic arrangementsthat no attention was to be paid to Miss Lavinia's incoherentexclamations, she was perfectly unconscious of the mutual agitationof the parties; and therefore, seeing that the offer of his handfor the next quadrille was accepted, she left him by the side ofMiss Brook Dingwall. 

'Oh, Edward!' exclaimed that most romantic of all romantic youngladies, as the light of science seated himself beside her, 'Oh, Edward, is it you?'

Mr. Theodosius assured the dear creature, in the most impassionedmanner, that he was not conscious of being anybody but himself. 

'Then why--why--this disguise? Oh! Edward M'Neville Walter, whathave I not suffered on your account?'

'Lavinia, hear me, ' replied the hero, in his most poetic strain. 'Do not condemn me unheard. If anything that emanates from thesoul of such a wretch as I, can occupy a place in yourrecollection--if any being, so vile, deserve your notice--you mayremember that I once published a pamphlet (and paid for itspublication) entitled "Considerations on the Policy of Removing theDuty on Bees'-wax. "'

'I do--I do!' sobbed Lavinia. 

'That, ' continued the lover, 'was a subject to which your fatherwas devoted heart and soul. '

'He was--he was!' reiterated the sentimentalist. 

'I knew it, ' continued Theodosius, tragically; 'I knew it--Iforwarded him a copy. He wished to know me. Could I disclose myreal name? Never! No, I assumed that name which you have so oftenpronounced in tones of endearment. As M'Neville Walter, I devotedmyself to the stirring cause; as M'Neville Walter I gained yourheart; in the same character I was ejected from your house by yourfather's domestics; and in no character at all have I since beenenabled to see you. We now meet again, and I proudly own that Iam--Theodosius Butler. '

The young lady appeared perfectly satisfied with this argumentativeaddress, and bestowed a look of the most ardent affection on theimmortal advocate of bees'-wax. 

'May I hope, ' said he, 'that the promise your father's violentbehaviour interrupted, may be renewed?'

'Let us join this set, ' replied Lavinia, coquettishly--for girls ofnineteen CAN coquette. 

'No, ' ejaculated he of the nankeens. 'I stir not from this spot, writhing under this torture of suspense. May I--may I--hope?'

'You may. '

'The promise is renewed?'

'It is. '

'I have your permission?'

'You have. '

'To the fullest extent?'

'You know it, ' returned the blushing Lavinia. The contortions ofthe interesting Butler's visage expressed his raptures. 

We could dilate upon the occurrences that ensued. How Mr. Theodosius and Miss Lavinia danced, and talked, and sighed for theremainder of the evening--how the Miss Crumptons were delightedthereat. How the writing-master continued to frisk about with one-horse power, and how his wife, from some unaccountable freak, leftthe whist-table in the little back-parlour, and persisted indisplaying her green head-dress in the most conspicuous part of thedrawing-room. How the supper consisted of small triangularsandwiches in trays, and a tart here and there by way of variety;and how the visitors consumed warm water disguised with lemon, anddotted with nutmeg, under the denomination of negus. These, andother matters of as much interest, however, we pass over, for thepurpose of describing a scene of even more importance. 

A fortnight after the date of the ball, Cornelius Brook Dingwall, Esq. , M. P. , was seated at the same library-table, and in the sameroom, as we have before described. He was alone, and his face borean expression of deep thought and solemn gravity--he was drawing up'A Bill for the better observance of Easter Monday. '

The footman tapped at the door--the legislator started from hisreverie, and 'Miss Crumpton' was announced. Permission was givenfor Miss Crumpton to enter the sanctum; Maria came sliding in, andhaving taken her seat with a due portion of affectation, thefootman retired, and the governess was left alone with the M. P. Oh! how she longed for the presence of a third party! Even thefacetious young gentleman would have been a relief. 

Miss Crumpton began the duet. She hoped Mrs. Brook Dingwall andthe handsome little boy were in good health. 

They were. Mrs. Brook Dingwall and little Frederick were atBrighton. 

'Much obliged to you, Miss Crumpton, ' said Cornelius, in his mostdignified manner, 'for your attention in calling this morning. Ishould have driven down to Hammersmith, to see Lavinia, but youraccount was so very satisfactory, and my duties in the House occupyme so much, that I determined to postpone it for a week. How hasshe gone on?'

'Very well indeed, sir, ' returned Maria, dreading to inform thefather that she had gone off. 

'Ah, I thought the plan on which I proceeded would be a match forher. '

Here was a favourable opportunity to say that somebody else hadbeen a match for her. But the unfortunate governess was unequal tothe task. 

'You have persevered strictly in the line of conduct I prescribed, Miss Crumpton?'

'Strictly, sir. '

'You tell me in your note that her spirits gradually improved. '

'Very much indeed, sir. '

'To be sure. I was convinced they would. '

'But I fear, sir, ' said Miss Crumpton, with visible emotion, 'Ifear the plan has not succeeded, quite so well as we could havewished. '

No!' exclaimed the prophet. 'Bless me! Miss Crumpton, you lookalarmed. What has happened?'

'Miss Brook Dingwall, sir--'

'Yes, ma'am?'

'Has gone, sir'--said Maria, exhibiting a strong inclination tofaint. 

'Gone!'

'Eloped, sir. '

'Eloped!--Who with--when--where--how?' almost shrieked the agitateddiplomatist. 

The natural yellow of the unfortunate Maria's face changed to allthe hues of the rainbow, as she laid a small packet on the member'stable. 

He hurriedly opened it. A letter from his daughter, and anotherfrom Theodosius. He glanced over their contents--'Ere this reachesyou, far distant--appeal to feelings--love to distraction--bees'-wax--slavery, ' &c. , &c. He dashed his hand to his forehead, andpaced the room with fearfully long strides, to the great alarm ofthe precise Maria. 

'Now mind; from this time forward, ' said Mr. Brook Dingwall, suddenly stopping at the table, and beating time upon it with hishand; 'from this time forward, I never will, under anycircumstances whatever, permit a man who writes pamphlets to enterany other room of this house but the kitchen. --I'll allow mydaughter and her husband one hundred and fifty pounds a-year, andnever see their faces again: and, damme! ma'am, I'll bring in abill for the abolition of finishing-schools. '

Some time has elapsed since this passionate declaration. Mr. AndMrs. Butler are at present rusticating in a small cottage atBall's-pond, pleasantly situated in the immediate vicinity of abrick-field. They have no family. Mr. Theodosius looks veryimportant, and writes incessantly; but, in consequence of a grosscombination on the part of publishers, none of his productionsappear in print. His young wife begins to think that ideal miseryis preferable to real unhappiness; and that a marriage, contractedin haste, and repented at leisure, is the cause of more substantialwretchedness than she ever anticipated. 

On cool reflection, Cornelius Brook Dingwall, Esq. , M. P. , wasreluctantly compelled to admit that the untoward result of hisadmirable arrangements was attributable, not to the Miss Crumptons, but his own diplomacy. He, however, consoles himself, like someother small diplomatists, by satisfactorily proving that if hisplans did not succeed, they ought to have done so. Minerva Houseis in status quo, and 'The Misses Crumpton' remain in the peaceableand undisturbed enjoyment of all the advantages resulting fromtheir Finishing-School. 

CHAPTER IV--THE TUGGSES AT RAMSGATE

Once upon a time there dwelt, in a narrow street on the Surrey sideof the water, within three minutes' walk of old London Bridge, Mr. Joseph Tuggs--a little dark-faced man, with shiny hair, twinklingeyes, short legs, and a body of very considerable thickness, measuring from the centre button of his waistcoat in front, to theornamental buttons of his coat behind. The figure of the amiableMrs. Tuggs, if not perfectly symmetrical, was decidedlycomfortable; and the form of her only daughter, the accomplishedMiss Charlotte Tuggs, was fast ripening into that state ofluxuriant plumpness which had enchanted the eyes, and captivatedthe heart, of Mr. Joseph Tuggs in his earlier days. Mr. SimonTuggs, his only son, and Miss Charlotte Tuggs's only brother, wasas differently formed in body, as he was differently constituted inmind, from the remainder of his family. There was that elongationin his thoughtful face, and that tendency to weakness in hisinteresting legs, which tell so forcibly of a great mind andromantic disposition. The slightest traits of character in such abeing, possess no mean interest to speculative minds. He usuallyappeared in public, in capacious shoes with black cotton stockings;and was observed to be particularly attached to a black glazedstock, without tie or ornament of any description. 

There is perhaps no profession, however useful; no pursuit, howevermeritorious; which can escape the petty attacks of vulgar minds. Mr. Joseph Tuggs was a grocer. It might be supposed that a grocerwas beyond the breath of calumny; but no--the neighboursstigmatised him as a chandler; and the poisonous voice of envydistinctly asserted that he dispensed tea and coffee by thequartern, retailed sugar by the ounce, cheese by the slice, tobaccoby the screw, and butter by the pat. These taunts, however, werelost upon the Tuggses. Mr. Tuggs attended to the grocerydepartment; Mrs. Tuggs to the cheesemongery; and Miss Tuggs to hereducation. Mr. Simon Tuggs kept his father's books, and his owncounsel. 

One fine spring afternoon, the latter gentleman was seated on a tubof weekly Dorset, behind the little red desk with a wooden rail, which ornamented a corner of the counter; when a strangerdismounted from a cab, and hastily entered the shop. He washabited in black cloth, and bore with him, a green umbrella, and ablue bag. 

'Mr. Tuggs?' said the stranger, inquiringly. 

'MY name is Tuggs, ' replied Mr. Simon. 

'It's the other Mr. Tuggs, ' said the stranger, looking towards theglass door which led into the parlour behind the shop, and on theinside of which, the round face of Mr. Tuggs, senior, wasdistinctly visible, peeping over the curtain. 

Mr. Simon gracefully waved his pen, as if in intimation of his wishthat his father would advance. Mr. Joseph Tuggs, with considerablecelerity, removed his face from the curtain and placed it beforethe stranger. 

'I come from the Temple, ' said the man with the bag. 

'From the Temple!' said Mrs. Tuggs, flinging open the door of thelittle parlour and disclosing Miss Tuggs in perspective. 

'From the Temple!' said Miss Tuggs and Mr. Simon Tuggs at the samemoment. 

'From the Temple!' said Mr. Joseph Tuggs, turning as pale as aDutch cheese. 

'From the Temple, ' repeated the man with the bag; 'from Mr. Cower's, the solicitor's. Mr. Tuggs, I congratulate you, sir. Ladies, I wish you joy of your prosperity! We have beensuccessful. ' And the man with the bag leisurely divested himselfof his umbrella and glove, as a preliminary to shaking hands withMr. Joseph Tuggs. 

Now the words 'we have been successful, ' had no sooner issued fromthe mouth of the man with the bag, than Mr. Simon Tuggs rose fromthe tub of weekly Dorset, opened his eyes very wide, gasped forbreath, made figures of eight in the air with his pen, and finallyfell into the arms of his anxious mother, and fainted away withoutthe slightest ostensible cause or pretence. 

'Water!' screamed Mrs. Tuggs. 

'Look up, my son, ' exclaimed Mr. Tuggs. 

'Simon! dear Simon!' shrieked Miss Tuggs. 

'I'm better now, ' said Mr. Simon Tuggs. 'What! successful!' Andthen, as corroborative evidence of his being better, he faintedaway again, and was borne into the little parlour by the unitedefforts of the remainder of the family, and the man with the bag. 

To a casual spectator, or to any one unacquainted with the positionof the family, this fainting would have been unaccountable. Tothose who understood the mission of the man with the bag, and weremoreover acquainted with the excitability of the nerves of Mr. Simon Tuggs, it was quite comprehensible. A long-pending lawsuitrespecting the validity of a will, had been unexpectedly decided;and Mr. Joseph Tuggs was the possessor of twenty thousand pounds. 

A prolonged consultation took place, that night, in the littleparlour--a consultation that was to settle the future destinies ofthe Tuggses. The shop was shut up, at an unusually early hour; andmany were the unavailing kicks bestowed upon the closed door byapplicants for quarterns of sugar, or half-quarterns of bread, orpenn'orths of pepper, which were to have been 'left till Saturday, 'but which fortune had decreed were to be left alone altogether. 

'We must certainly give up business, ' said Miss Tuggs. 

'Oh, decidedly, ' said Mrs. Tuggs. 

'Simon shall go to the bar, ' said Mr. Joseph Tuggs. 

'And I shall always sign myself "Cymon" in future, ' said his son. 

'And I shall call myself Charlotta, ' said Miss Tuggs. 

'And you must always call ME "Ma, " and father "Pa, "' said Mrs. Tuggs. 

'Yes, and Pa must leave off all his vulgar habits, ' interposed MissTuggs. 

'I'll take care of all that, ' responded Mr. Joseph Tuggs, complacently. He was, at that very moment, eating pickled salmonwith a pocket-knife. 

'We must leave town immediately, ' said Mr. Cymon Tuggs. 

Everybody concurred that this was an indispensable preliminary tobeing genteel. The question then arose, Where should they go?

'Gravesend?' mildly suggested Mr. Joseph Tuggs. The idea wasunanimously scouted. Gravesend was LOW. 

'Margate?' insinuated Mrs. Tuggs. Worse and worse--nobody there, but tradespeople. 

'Brighton?' Mr. Cymon Tuggs opposed an insurmountable objection. All the coaches had been upset, in turn, within the last threeweeks; each coach had averaged two passengers killed, and sixwounded; and, in every case, the newspapers had distinctlyunderstood that 'no blame whatever was attributable to thecoachman. '

'Ramsgate?' ejaculated Mr. Cymon, thoughtfully. To be sure; howstupid they must have been, not to have thought of that before!Ramsgate was just the place of all others. 

Two months after this conversation, the City of London Ramsgatesteamer was running gaily down the river. Her flag was flying, herband was playing, her passengers were conversing; everything abouther seemed gay and lively. --No wonder--the Tuggses were on board. 

'Charming, ain't it?' said Mr. Joseph Tuggs, in a bottle-greengreat-coat, with a velvet collar of the same, and a bluetravelling-cap with a gold band. 

'Soul-inspiring, ' replied Mr. Cymon Tuggs--he was entered at thebar. 'Soul-inspiring!'

'Delightful morning, sir!' said a stoutish, military-lookinggentleman in a blue surtout buttoned up to his chin, and whitetrousers chained down to the soles of his boots. 

Mr. Cymon Tuggs took upon himself the responsibility of answeringthe observation. 'Heavenly!' he replied. 

'You are an enthusiastic admirer of the beauties of Nature, sir?'said the military gentleman. 

'I am, sir, ' replied Mr. Cymon Tuggs. 

'Travelled much, sir?' inquired the military gentleman. 

'Not much, ' replied Mr. Cymon Tuggs. 

'You've been on the continent, of course?' inquired the militarygentleman. 

'Not exactly, ' replied Mr. Cymon Tuggs--in a qualified tone, as ifhe wished it to be implied that he had gone half-way and come backagain. 

'You of course intend your son to make the grand tour, sir?' saidthe military gentleman, addressing Mr. Joseph Tuggs. 

As Mr. Joseph Tuggs did not precisely understand what the grandtour was, or how such an article was manufactured, he replied, 'Ofcourse. ' Just as he said the word, there came tripping up, fromher seat at the stern of the vessel, a young lady in a puce-coloured silk cloak, and boots of the same; with long blackringlets, large black eyes, brief petticoats, and unexceptionableankles. 

'Walter, my dear, ' said the young lady to the military gentleman. 

'Yes, Belinda, my love, ' responded the military gentleman to theblack-eyed young lady. 

'What have you left me alone so long for?' said the young lady. 'Ihave been stared out of countenance by those rude young men. '

'What! stared at?' exclaimed the military gentleman, with anemphasis which made Mr. Cymon Tuggs withdraw his eyes from theyoung lady's face with inconceivable rapidity. 'Which young men--where?' and the military gentleman clenched his fist, and glaredfearfully on the cigar-smokers around. 

'Be calm, Walter, I entreat, ' said the young lady. 

'I won't, ' said the military gentleman. 

'Do, sir, ' interposed Mr. Cymon Tuggs. 'They ain't worth yournotice. '

'No--no--they are not, indeed, ' urged the young lady. 

'I WILL be calm, ' said the military gentleman. 'You speak truly, sir. I thank you for a timely remonstrance, which may have sparedme the guilt of manslaughter. ' Calming his wrath, the militarygentleman wrung Mr. Cymon Tuggs by the hand. 

'My sister, sir!' said Mr. Cymon Tuggs; seeing that the militarygentleman was casting an admiring look towards Miss Charlotta. 

'My wife, ma'am--Mrs. Captain Waters, ' said the military gentleman, presenting the black-eyed young lady. 

'My mother, ma'am--Mrs. Tuggs, ' said Mr. Cymon. The militarygentleman and his wife murmured enchanting courtesies; and theTuggses looked as unembarrassed as they could. 

'Walter, my dear, ' said the black-eyed young lady, after they hadsat chatting with the Tuggses some half-hour. 

'Yes, my love, ' said the military gentleman. 

'Don't you think this gentleman (with an inclination of the headtowards Mr. Cymon Tuggs) is very much like the Marquis Carriwini?'

'Lord bless me, very!' said the military gentleman. 

'It struck me, the moment I saw him, ' said the young lady, gazingintently, and with a melancholy air, on the scarlet countenance ofMr. Cymon Tuggs. Mr. Cymon Tuggs looked at everybody; and findingthat everybody was looking at him, appeared to feel some temporarydifficulty in disposing of his eyesight. 

'So exactly the air of the marquis, ' said the military gentleman. 

'Quite extraordinary!' sighed the military gentleman's lady. 

'You don't know the marquis, sir?' inquired the military gentleman. 

Mr. Cymon Tuggs stammered a negative. 

'If you did, ' continued Captain Walter Waters, 'you would feel howmuch reason you have to be proud of the resemblance--a most elegantman, with a most prepossessing appearance. '

'He is--he is indeed!' exclaimed Belinda Waters energetically. Asher eye caught that of Mr. Cymon Tuggs, she withdrew it from hisfeatures in bashful confusion. 

All this was highly gratifying to the feelings of the Tuggses; andwhen, in the course of farther conversation, it was discovered thatMiss Charlotta Tuggs was the fac simile of a titled relative ofMrs. Belinda Waters, and that Mrs. Tuggs herself was the verypicture of the Dowager Duchess of Dobbleton, their delight in theacquisition of so genteel and friendly an acquaintance, knew nobounds. Even the dignity of Captain Walter Waters relaxed, to thatdegree, that he suffered himself to be prevailed upon by Mr. JosephTuggs, to partake of cold pigeon-pie and sherry, on deck; and amost delightful conversation, aided by these agreeable stimulants, was prolonged, until they ran alongside Ramsgate Pier. 

'Good-bye, dear!' said Mrs. Captain Waters to Miss Charlotta Tuggs, just before the bustle of landing commenced; 'we shall see you onthe sands in the morning; and, as we are sure to have foundlodgings before then, I hope we shall be inseparables for manyweeks to come. '

'Oh! I hope so, ' said Miss Charlotta Tuggs, emphatically. 

'Tickets, ladies and gen'lm'n, ' said the man on the paddle-box. 

'Want a porter, sir?' inquired a dozen men in smock-frocks. 

'Now, my dear!' said Captain Waters. 

'Good-bye!' said Mrs. Captain Waters--'good-bye, Mr. Cymon!' andwith a pressure of the hand which threw the amiable young man'snerves into a state of considerable derangement, Mrs. CaptainWaters disappeared among the crowd. A pair of puce-coloured bootswere seen ascending the steps, a white handkerchief fluttered, ablack eye gleamed. The Waterses were gone, and Mr. Cymon Tuggs wasalone in a heartless world. 

Silently and abstractedly, did that too sensitive youth follow hisrevered parents, and a train of smock-frocks and wheelbarrows, along the pier, until the bustle of the scene around, recalled himto himself. The sun was shining brightly; the sea, dancing to itsown music, rolled merrily in; crowds of people promenaded to andfro; young ladies tittered; old ladies talked; nursemaids displayedtheir charms to the greatest possible advantage; and their littlecharges ran up and down, and to and fro, and in and out, under thefeet, and between the legs, of the assembled concourse, in the mostplayful and exhilarating manner. There were old gentlemen, tryingto make out objects through long telescopes; and young ones, makingobjects of themselves in open shirt-collars; ladies, carrying aboutportable chairs, and portable chairs carrying about invalids;parties, waiting on the pier for parties who had come by the steam-boat; and nothing was to be heard but talking, laughing, welcoming, and merriment. 

'Fly, sir?' exclaimed a chorus of fourteen men and six boys, themoment Mr. Joseph Tuggs, at the head of his little party, set footin the street. 

'Here's the gen'lm'n at last!' said one, touching his hat with mockpoliteness. 'Werry glad to see you, sir, --been a-waitin' for youthese six weeks. Jump in, if you please, sir!'

'Nice light fly and a fast trotter, sir, ' said another: 'fourteenmile a hour, and surroundin' objects rendered inwisible by ex-tremewelocity!'

'Large fly for your luggage, sir, ' cried a third. 'Werry large flyhere, sir--reg'lar bluebottle!'

'Here's YOUR fly, sir!' shouted another aspiring charioteer, mounting the box, and inducing an old grey horse to indulge in someimperfect reminiscences of a canter. 'Look at him, sir!--temper ofa lamb and haction of a steam-ingein!'

Resisting even the temptation of securing the services of sovaluable a quadruped as the last named, Mr. Joseph Tuggs beckonedto the proprietor of a dingy conveyance of a greenish hue, linedwith faded striped calico; and, the luggage and the family havingbeen deposited therein, the animal in the shafts, after describingcircles in the road for a quarter of an hour, at last consented todepart in quest of lodgings. 

'How many beds have you got?' screamed Mrs. Tuggs out of the fly, to the woman who opened the door of the first house which displayeda bill intimating that apartments were to be let within. 

'How many did you want, ma'am?' was, of course, the reply. 

'Three. '

'Will you step in, ma'am?' Down got Mrs. Tuggs. The family weredelighted. Splendid view of the sea from the front windows--charming! A short pause. Back came Mrs. Tuggs again. --One parlourand a mattress. 

'Why the devil didn't they say so at first?' inquired Mr. JosephTuggs, rather pettishly. 

'Don't know, ' said Mrs. Tuggs. 

'Wretches!' exclaimed the nervous Cymon. Another bill--anotherstoppage. Same question--same answer--similar result. 

'What do they mean by this?' inquired Mr. Joseph Tuggs, thoroughlyout of temper. 

'Don't know, ' said the placid Mrs. Tuggs. 

'Orvis the vay here, sir, ' said the driver, by way of accountingfor the circumstance in a satisfactory manner; and off they wentagain, to make fresh inquiries, and encounter freshdisappointments. 

It had grown dusk when the 'fly'--the rate of whose progressgreatly belied its name--after climbing up four or fiveperpendicular hills, stopped before the door of a dusty house, witha bay window, from which you could obtain a beautiful glimpse ofthe sea--if you thrust half of your body out of it, at the imminentperil of falling into the area. Mrs. Tuggs alighted. One ground-floor sitting-room, and three cells with beds in them up-stairs. Adouble-house. Family on the opposite side. Five children milk-and-watering in the parlour, and one little boy, expelled for badbehaviour, screaming on his back in the passage. 

'What's the terms?' said Mrs. Tuggs. The mistress of the house wasconsidering the expediency of putting on an extra guinea; so, shecoughed slightly, and affected not to hear the question. 

'What's the terms?' said Mrs. Tuggs, in a louder key. 

'Five guineas a week, ma'am, WITH attendance, ' replied the lodging-house keeper. (Attendance means the privilege of ringing the bellas often as you like, for your own amusement. )

'Rather dear, ' said Mrs. Tuggs. 'Oh dear, no, ma'am!' replied themistress of the house, with a benign smile of pity at the ignoranceof manners and customs, which the observation betrayed. 'Verycheap!'

Such an authority was indisputable. Mrs. Tuggs paid a week's rentin advance, and took the lodgings for a month. In an hour's time, the family were seated at tea in their new abode. 

'Capital srimps!' said Mr. Joseph Tuggs. 

Mr. Cymon eyed his father with a rebellious scowl, as heemphatically said 'SHRIMPS. '

'Well, then, shrimps, ' said Mr. Joseph Tuggs. 'Srimps or shrimps, don't much matter. '

There was pity, blended with malignity, in Mr. Cymon's eye, as hereplied, 'Don't matter, father! What would Captain Waters say, ifhe heard such vulgarity?'

'Or what would dear Mrs. Captain Waters say, ' added Charlotta, 'ifshe saw mother--ma, I mean--eating them whole, heads and all!'

'It won't bear thinking of!' ejaculated Mr. Cymon, with a shudder. 'How different, ' he thought, 'from the Dowager Duchess ofDobbleton!'

'Very pretty woman, Mrs. Captain Waters, is she not, Cymon?'inquired Miss Charlotta. 

A glow of nervous excitement passed over the countenance of Mr. Cymon Tuggs, as he replied, 'An angel of beauty!'

'Hallo!' said Mr. Joseph Tuggs. 'Hallo, Cymon, my boy, take care. Married lady, you know;' and he winked one of his twinkling eyesknowingly. 

'Why, ' exclaimed Cymon, starting up with an ebullition of fury, asunexpected as alarming, 'why am I to be reminded of that blight ofmy happiness, and ruin of my hopes? Why am I to be taunted withthe miseries which are heaped upon my head? Is it not enough to--to--to--' and the orator paused; but whether for want of words, orlack of breath, was never distinctly ascertained. 

There was an impressive solemnity in the tone of this address, andin the air with which the romantic Cymon, at its conclusion, rangthe bell, and demanded a flat candlestick, which effectuallyforbade a reply. He stalked dramatically to bed, and the Tuggseswent to bed too, half an hour afterwards, in a state ofconsiderable mystification and perplexity. 

If the pier had presented a scene of life and bustle to the Tuggseson their first landing at Ramsgate, it was far surpassed by theappearance of the sands on the morning after their arrival. It wasa fine, bright, clear day, with a light breeze from the sea. Therewere the same ladies and gentlemen, the same children, the samenursemaids, the same telescopes, the same portable chairs. Theladies were employed in needlework, or watch-guard making, orknitting, or reading novels; the gentlemen were reading newspapersand magazines; the children were digging holes in the sand withwooden spades, and collecting water therein; the nursemaids, withtheir youngest charges in their arms, were running in after thewaves, and then running back with the waves after them; and, nowand then, a little sailing-boat either departed with a gay andtalkative cargo of passengers, or returned with a very silent andparticularly uncomfortable-looking one. 

'Well, I never!' exclaimed Mrs. Tuggs, as she and Mr. Joseph Tuggs, and Miss Charlotta Tuggs, and Mr. Cymon Tuggs, with their eightfeet in a corresponding number of yellow shoes, seated themselveson four rush-bottomed chairs, which, being placed in a soft part ofthe sand, forthwith sunk down some two feet and a half--'Well, Inever!'

Mr. Cymon, by an exertion of great personal strength, uprooted thechairs, and removed them further back. 

'Why, I'm blessed if there ain't some ladies a-going in!' exclaimedMr. Joseph Tuggs, with intense astonishment. 

'Lor, pa!' exclaimed Miss Charlotta. 

'There IS, my dear, ' said Mr. Joseph Tuggs. And, sure enough, fouryoung ladies, each furnished with a towel, tripped up the steps ofa bathing-machine. In went the horse, floundering about in thewater; round turned the machine; down sat the driver; and presentlyout burst the young ladies aforesaid, with four distinct splashes. 

'Well, that's sing'ler, too!' ejaculated Mr. Joseph Tuggs, after anawkward pause. Mr. Cymon coughed slightly. 

'Why, here's some gentlemen a-going in on this side!' exclaimedMrs. Tuggs, in a tone of horror. 

Three machines--three horses--three flounderings--three turningsround--three splashes--three gentlemen, disporting themselves inthe water like so many dolphins. 

'Well, THAT'S sing'ler!' said Mr. Joseph Tuggs again. MissCharlotta coughed this time, and another pause ensued. It wasagreeably broken. 

'How d'ye do, dear? We have been looking for you, all themorning, ' said a voice to Miss Charlotta Tuggs. Mrs. CaptainWaters was the owner of it. 

'How d'ye do?' said Captain Walter Waters, all suavity; and a mostcordial interchange of greetings ensued. 

'Belinda, my love, ' said Captain Walter Waters, applying his glassto his eye, and looking in the direction of the sea. 

'Yes, my dear, ' replied Mrs. Captain Waters. 

'There's Harry Thompson!'

'Where?' said Belinda, applying her glass to her eye. 

'Bathing. '

'Lor, so it is! He don't see us, does he?'

'No, I don't think he does' replied the captain. 'Bless my soul, how very singular!'

'What?' inquired Belinda. 

'There's Mary Golding, too. '

'Lor!--where?' (Up went the glass again. )

'There!' said the captain, pointing to one of the young ladiesbefore noticed, who, in her bathing costume, looked as if she wasenveloped in a patent Mackintosh, of scanty dimensions. 

'So it is, I declare!' exclaimed Mrs. Captain Waters. 'How verycurious we should see them both!'

'Very, ' said the captain, with perfect coolness. 

'It's the reg'lar thing here, you see, ' whispered Mr. Cymon Tuggsto his father. 

'I see it is, ' whispered Mr. Joseph Tuggs in reply. 'Queer, though--ain't it?' Mr. Cymon Tuggs nodded assent. 

'What do you think of doing with yourself this morning?' inquiredthe captain. 'Shall we lunch at Pegwell?'

'I should like that very much indeed, ' interposed Mrs. Tuggs. Shehad never heard of Pegwell; but the word 'lunch' had reached herears, and it sounded very agreeably. 

'How shall we go?' inquired the captain; 'it's too warm to walk. '

'A shay?' suggested Mr. Joseph Tuggs. 

'Chaise, ' whispered Mr. Cymon. 

'I should think one would be enough, ' said Mr. Joseph Tuggs aloud, quite unconscious of the meaning of the correction. 'However, twoshays if you like. '

'I should like a donkey SO much, ' said Belinda. 

'Oh, so should I!' echoed Charlotta Tuggs. 

'Well, we can have a fly, ' suggested the captain, 'and you can havea couple of donkeys. '

A fresh difficulty arose. Mrs. Captain Waters declared it would bedecidedly improper for two ladies to ride alone. The remedy wasobvious. Perhaps young Mr. Tuggs would be gallant enough toaccompany them. 

Mr. Cymon Tuggs blushed, smiled, looked vacant, and faintlyprotested that he was no horseman. The objection was at onceoverruled. A fly was speedily found; and three donkeys--which theproprietor declared on his solemn asseveration to be 'three partsblood, and the other corn'--were engaged in the service. 

'Kim up!' shouted one of the two boys who followed behind, topropel the donkeys, when Belinda Waters and Charlotta Tuggs hadbeen hoisted, and pushed, and pulled, into their respectivesaddles. 

'Hi--hi--hi!' groaned the other boy behind Mr. Cymon Tuggs. Awaywent the donkey, with the stirrups jingling against the heels ofCymon's boots, and Cymon's boots nearly scraping the ground. 

'Way--way! Wo--o--o -!' cried Mr. Cymon Tuggs as well as he could, in the midst of the jolting. 

'Don't make it gallop!' screamed Mrs. Captain Waters, behind. 

'My donkey WILL go into the public-house!' shrieked Miss Tuggs inthe rear. 

'Hi--hi--hi!' groaned both the boys together; and on went thedonkeys as if nothing would ever stop them. 

Everything has an end, however; even the galloping of donkeys willcease in time. The animal which Mr. Cymon Tuggs bestrode, feelingsundry uncomfortable tugs at the bit, the intent of which he couldby no means divine, abruptly sidled against a brick wall, andexpressed his uneasiness by grinding Mr. Cymon Tuggs's leg on therough surface. Mrs. Captain Waters's donkey, apparently under theinfluence of some playfulness of spirit, rushed suddenly, headfirst, into a hedge, and declined to come out again: and thequadruped on which Miss Tuggs was mounted, expressed his delight atthis humorous proceeding by firmly planting his fore-feet againstthe ground, and kicking up his hind-legs in a very agile, butsomewhat alarming manner. 

This abrupt termination to the rapidity of the ride, naturallyoccasioned some confusion. Both the ladies indulged in vehementscreaming for several minutes; and Mr. Cymon Tuggs, besidessustaining intense bodily pain, had the additional mental anguishof witnessing their distressing situation, without having the powerto rescue them, by reason of his leg being firmly screwed inbetween the animal and the wall. The efforts of the boys, however, assisted by the ingenious expedient of twisting the tail of themost rebellious donkey, restored order in a much shorter time thancould have reasonably been expected, and the little party joggedslowly on together. 

'Now let 'em walk, ' said Mr. Cymon Tuggs. 'It's cruel to overdrive'em. '

'Werry well, sir, ' replied the boy, with a grin at his companion, as if he understood Mr. Cymon to mean that the cruelty applied lessto the animals than to their riders. 

'What a lovely day, dear!' said Charlotta. 

'Charming; enchanting, dear!' responded Mrs. Captain Waters. 

'What a beautiful prospect, Mr. Tuggs!'

Cymon looked full in Belinda's face, as he responded--'Beautiful, indeed!' The lady cast down her eyes, and suffered the animal shewas riding to fall a little back. Cymon Tuggs instinctively didthe same. 

There was a brief silence, broken only by a sigh from Mr. CymonTuggs. 

'Mr. Cymon, ' said the lady suddenly, in a low tone, 'Mr. Cymon--Iam another's. '

Mr. Cymon expressed his perfect concurrence in a statement which itwas impossible to controvert. 

'If I had not been--' resumed Belinda; and there she stopped. 

'What--what?' said Mr. Cymon earnestly. 'Do not torture me. Whatwould you say?'

'If I had not been'--continued Mrs. Captain Waters--'if, in earlierlife, it had been my fate to have known, and been beloved by, anoble youth--a kindred soul--a congenial spirit--one capable offeeling and appreciating the sentiments which--'

'Heavens! what do I hear?' exclaimed Mr. Cymon Tuggs. 'Is itpossible! can I believe my--Come up!' (This last unsentimentalparenthesis was addressed to the donkey, who, with his head betweenhis fore-legs, appeared to be examining the state of his shoes withgreat anxiety. )

'Hi--hi--hi, ' said the boys behind. 'Come up, ' expostulated CymonTuggs again. 'Hi--hi--hi, ' repeated the boys. And whether it wasthat the animal felt indignant at the tone of Mr. Tuggs's command, or felt alarmed by the noise of the deputy proprietor's bootsrunning behind him; or whether he burned with a noble emulation tooutstrip the other donkeys; certain it is that he no sooner heardthe second series of 'hi--hi's, ' than he started away, with acelerity of pace which jerked Mr. Cymon's hat off, instantaneously, and carried him to the Pegwell Bay hotel in no time, where hedeposited his rider without giving him the trouble of dismounting, by sagaciously pitching him over his head, into the very doorway ofthe tavern. 

Great was the confusion of Mr. Cymon Tuggs, when he was put rightend uppermost, by two waiters; considerable was the alarm of Mrs. Tuggs in behalf of her son; agonizing were the apprehensions ofMrs. Captain Waters on his account. It was speedily discovered, however, that he had not sustained much more injury than thedonkey--he was grazed, and the animal was grazing--and then it WASa delightful party to be sure! Mr. And Mrs. Tuggs, and thecaptain, had ordered lunch in the little garden behind:--smallsaucers of large shrimps, dabs of butter, crusty loaves, andbottled ale. The sky was without a cloud; there were flower-potsand turf before them; the sea, from the foot of the cliff, stretching away as far as the eye could discern anything at all;vessels in the distance with sails as white, and as small, asnicely-got-up cambric handkerchiefs. The shrimps were delightful, the ale better, and the captain even more pleasant than either. Mrs. Captain Waters was in SUCH spirits after lunch!--chasing, first the captain across the turf, and among the flower-pots; andthen Mr. Cymon Tuggs; and then Miss Tuggs; and laughing, too, quiteboisterously. But as the captain said, it didn't matter; who knewwhat they were, there? For all the people of the house knew, theymight be common people. To which Mr. Joseph Tuggs responded, 'Tobe sure. ' And then they went down the steep wooden steps a littlefurther on, which led to the bottom of the cliff; and looked at thecrabs, and the seaweed, and the eels, till it was more than fullytime to go back to Ramsgate again. Finally, Mr. Cymon Tuggsascended the steps last, and Mrs. Captain Waters last but one; andMr. Cymon Tuggs discovered that the foot and ankle of Mrs. CaptainWaters, were even more unexceptionable than he had at firstsupposed. 

Taking a donkey towards his ordinary place of residence, is a verydifferent thing, and a feat much more easily to be accomplished, than taking him from it. It requires a great deal of foresight andpresence of mind in the one case, to anticipate the numerousflights of his discursive imagination; whereas, in the other, allyou have to do, is, to hold on, and place a blind confidence in theanimal. Mr. Cymon Tuggs adopted the latter expedient on hisreturn; and his nerves were so little discomposed by the journey, that he distinctly understood they were all to meet again at thelibrary in the evening. 

The library was crowded. There were the same ladies, and the samegentlemen, who had been on the sands in the morning, and on thepier the day before. There were young ladies, in maroon-colouredgowns and black velvet bracelets, dispensing fancy articles in theshop, and presiding over games of chance in the concert-room. There were marriageable daughters, and marriage-making mammas, gaming and promenading, and turning over music, and flirting. There were some male beaux doing the sentimental in whispers, andothers doing the ferocious in moustache. There were Mrs. Tuggs inamber, Miss Tuggs in sky-blue, Mrs. Captain Waters in pink. Therewas Captain Waters in a braided surtout; there was Mr. Cymon Tuggsin pumps and a gilt waistcoat; there was Mr. Joseph Tuggs in a bluecoat and a shirt-frill. 

'Numbers three, eight, and eleven!' cried one of the young ladiesin the maroon-coloured gowns. 

'Numbers three, eight, and eleven!' echoed another young lady inthe same uniform. 

'Number three's gone, ' said the first young lady. 'Numbers eightand eleven!'

'Numbers eight and eleven!' echoed the second young lady. 

'Number eight's gone, Mary Ann, ' said the first young lady. 

'Number eleven!' screamed the second. 

'The numbers are all taken now, ladies, if you please, ' said thefirst. The representatives of numbers three, eight, and eleven, and the rest of the numbers, crowded round the table. 

'Will you throw, ma'am?' said the presiding goddess, handing thedice-box to the eldest daughter of a stout lady, with four girls. 

There was a profound silence among the lookers-on. 

'Throw, Jane, my dear, ' said the stout lady. An interestingdisplay of bashfulness--a little blushing in a cambrichandkerchief--a whispering to a younger sister. 

'Amelia, my dear, throw for your sister, ' said the stout lady; andthen she turned to a walking advertisement of Rowlands' MacassarOil, who stood next her, and said, 'Jane is so VERY modest andretiring; but I can't be angry with her for it. An artless andunsophisticated girl is SO truly amiable, that I often wish Ameliawas more like her sister!'

The gentleman with the whiskers whispered his admiring approval. 

'Now, my dear!' said the stout lady. Miss Amelia threw--eight forher sister, ten for herself. 

'Nice figure, Amelia, ' whispered the stout lady to a thin youthbeside her. 

'Beautiful!'

'And SUCH a spirit! I am like you in that respect. I can NOT helpadmiring that life and vivacity. Ah! (a sigh) I wish I could makepoor Jane a little more like my dear Amelia!'

The young gentleman cordially acquiesced in the sentiment; both he, and the individual first addressed, were perfectly contented. 

'Who's this?' inquired Mr. Cymon Tuggs of Mrs. Captain Waters, as ashort female, in a blue velvet hat and feathers, was led into theorchestra, by a fat man in black tights and cloudy Berlins. 

'Mrs. Tippin, of the London theatres, ' replied Belinda, referringto the programme of the concert. 

The talented Tippin having condescendingly acknowledged theclapping of hands, and shouts of 'bravo!' which greeted herappearance, proceeded to sing the popular cavatina of 'Bid mediscourse, ' accompanied on the piano by Mr. Tippin; after which, Mr. Tippin sang a comic song, accompanied on the piano by Mrs. Tippin: the applause consequent upon which, was only to beexceeded by the enthusiastic approbation bestowed upon an air withvariations on the guitar, by Miss Tippin, accompanied on the chinby Master Tippin. 

Thus passed the evening; thus passed the days and evenings of theTuggses, and the Waterses, for six weeks. Sands in the morning--donkeys at noon--pier in the afternoon--library at night--and thesame people everywhere. 

On that very night six weeks, the moon was shining brightly overthe calm sea, which dashed against the feet of the tall gauntcliffs, with just enough noise to lull the old fish to sleep, without disturbing the young ones, when two figures werediscernible--or would have been, if anybody had looked for them--seated on one of the wooden benches which are stationed near theverge of the western cliff. The moon had climbed higher into theheavens, by two hours' journeying, since those figures first satdown--and yet they had moved not. The crowd of loungers hadthinned and dispersed; the noise of itinerant musicians had diedaway; light after light had appeared in the windows of thedifferent houses in the distance; blockade-man after blockade-manhad passed the spot, wending his way towards his solitary post; andyet those figures had remained stationary. Some portions of thetwo forms were in deep shadow, but the light of the moon fellstrongly on a puce-coloured boot and a glazed stock. Mr. CymonTuggs and Mrs. Captain Waters were seated on that bench. Theyspoke not, but were silently gazing on the sea. 

'Walter will return to-morrow, ' said Mrs. Captain Waters, mournfully breaking silence. 

Mr. Cymon Tuggs sighed like a gust of wind through a forest ofgooseberry bushes, as he replied, 'Alas! he will. '

'Oh, Cymon!' resumed Belinda, 'the chaste delight, the calmhappiness, of this one week of Platonic love, is too much for me!'Cymon was about to suggest that it was too little for him, but hestopped himself, and murmured unintelligibly. 

'And to think that even this gleam of happiness, innocent as itis, ' exclaimed Belinda, 'is now to be lost for ever!'

'Oh, do not say for ever, Belinda, ' exclaimed the excitable Cymon, as two strongly-defined tears chased each other down his pale face--it was so long that there was plenty of room for a chase. 'Do notsay for ever!'

'I must, ' replied Belinda. 

'Why?' urged Cymon, 'oh why? Such Platonic acquaintance as ours isso harmless, that even your husband can never object to it. '

'My husband!' exclaimed Belinda. 'You little know him. Jealousand revengeful; ferocious in his revenge--a maniac in his jealousy!Would you be assassinated before my eyes?' Mr. Cymon Tuggs, in avoice broken by emotion, expressed his disinclination to undergothe process of assassination before the eyes of anybody. 

'Then leave me, ' said Mrs. Captain Waters. 'Leave me, this night, for ever. It is late: let us return. '

Mr. Cymon Tuggs sadly offered the lady his arm, and escorted her toher lodgings. He paused at the door--he felt a Platonic pressureof his hand. 'Good night, ' he said, hesitating. 

'Good night, ' sobbed the lady. Mr. Cymon Tuggs paused again. 

'Won't you walk in, sir?' said the servant. Mr. Tuggs hesitated. Oh, that hesitation! He DID walk in. 

'Good night!' said Mr. Cymon Tuggs again, when he reached thedrawing-room. 

'Good night!' replied Belinda; 'and, if at any period of my life, I--Hush!' The lady paused and stared with a steady gaze of horror, on the ashy countenance of Mr. Cymon Tuggs. There was a doubleknock at the street-door. 

'It is my husband!' said Belinda, as the captain's voice was heardbelow. 

'And my family!' added Cymon Tuggs, as the voices of his relativesfloated up the staircase. 

'The curtain! The curtain!' gasped Mrs. Captain Waters, pointingto the window, before which some chintz hangings were closelydrawn. 

'But I have done nothing wrong, ' said the hesitating Cymon. 

'The curtain!' reiterated the frantic lady: 'you will bemurdered. ' This last appeal to his feelings was irresistible. Thedismayed Cymon concealed himself behind the curtain with pantomimicsuddenness. 

Enter the captain, Joseph Tuggs, Mrs. Tuggs, and Charlotta. 

'My dear, ' said the captain, 'Lieutenant, Slaughter. ' Two iron-shod boots and one gruff voice were heard by Mr. Cymon to advance, and acknowledge the honour of the introduction. The sabre of thelieutenant rattled heavily upon the floor, as he seated himself atthe table. Mr. Cymon's fears almost overcame his reason. 

'The brandy, my dear!' said the captain. Here was a situation!They were going to make a night of it! And Mr. Cymon Tuggs waspent up behind the curtain and afraid to breathe!

'Slaughter, ' said the captain, 'a cigar?'

Now, Mr. Cymon Tuggs never could smoke without feeling itindispensably necessary to retire, immediately, and never couldsmell smoke without a strong disposition to cough. The cigars wereintroduced; the captain was a professed smoker; so was thelieutenant; so was Joseph Tuggs. The apartment was small, the doorwas closed, the smoke powerful: it hung in heavy wreaths over theroom, and at length found its way behind the curtain. Cymon Tuggsheld his nose, his mouth, his breath. It was all of no use--outcame the cough. 

'Bless my soul!' said the captain, 'I beg your pardon, Miss Tuggs. You dislike smoking?'

'Oh, no; I don't indeed, ' said Charlotta. 

'It makes you cough. '

'Oh dear no. '

'You coughed just now. '

'Me, Captain Waters! Lor! how can you say so?'

'Somebody coughed, ' said the captain. 

'I certainly thought so, ' said Slaughter. No; everybody denied it. 

'Fancy, ' said the captain. 

'Must be, ' echoed Slaughter. 

Cigars resumed--more smoke--another cough--smothered, but violent. 

'Damned odd!' said the captain, staring about him. 

'Sing'ler!' ejaculated the unconscious Mr. Joseph Tuggs. 

Lieutenant Slaughter looked first at one person mysteriously, thenat another: then, laid down his cigar, then approached the windowon tiptoe, and pointed with his right thumb over his shoulder, inthe direction of the curtain. 

'Slaughter!' ejaculated the captain, rising from table, 'what doyou mean?'

The lieutenant, in reply, drew back the curtain and discovered Mr. Cymon Tuggs behind it: pallid with apprehension, and blue withwanting to cough. 

'Aha!' exclaimed the captain, furiously. 'What do I see?Slaughter, your sabre!'

'Cymon!' screamed the Tuggses. 

'Mercy!' said Belinda. 

'Platonic!' gasped Cymon. 

'Your sabre!' roared the captain: 'Slaughter--unhand me--thevillain's life!'

'Murder!' screamed the Tuggses. 

'Hold him fast, sir!' faintly articulated Cymon. 

'Water!' exclaimed Joseph Tuggs--and Mr. Cymon Tuggs and all theladies forthwith fainted away, and formed a tableau. 

Most willingly would we conceal the disastrous termination of thesix weeks' acquaintance. A troublesome form, and an arbitrarycustom, however, prescribe that a story should have a conclusion, in addition to a commencement; we have therefore no alternative. Lieutenant Slaughter brought a message--the captain brought anaction. Mr. Joseph Tuggs interposed--the lieutenant negotiated. When Mr. Cymon Tuggs recovered from the nervous disorder into whichmisplaced affection, and exciting circumstances, had plunged him, he found that his family had lost their pleasant acquaintance; thathis father was minus fifteen hundred pounds; and the captain plusthe precise sum. The money was paid to hush the matter up, but itgot abroad notwithstanding; and there are not wanting some whoaffirm that three designing impostors never found more easy dupes, than did Captain Waters, Mrs. Waters, and Lieutenant Slaughter, inthe Tuggses at Ramsgate. 

CHAPTER V--HORATIO SPARKINS

'Indeed, my love, he paid Teresa very great attention on the lastassembly night, ' said Mrs. Malderton, addressing her spouse, who, after the fatigues of the day in the City, was sitting with a silkhandkerchief over his head, and his feet on the fender, drinkinghis port;--'very great attention; and I say again, every possibleencouragement ought to be given him. He positively must be askeddown here to dine. '

'Who must?' inquired Mr. Malderton. 

'Why, you know whom I mean, my dear--the young man with the blackwhiskers and the white cravat, who has just come out at ourassembly, and whom all the girls are talking about. Young--dearme! what's his name?--Marianne, what IS his name?' continued Mrs. Malderton, addressing her youngest daughter, who was engaged innetting a purse, and looking sentimental. 

'Mr. Horatio Sparkins, ma, ' replied Miss Marianne, with a sigh. 

'Oh! yes, to be sure--Horatio Sparkins, ' said Mrs. Malderton. 'Decidedly the most gentleman-like young man I ever saw. I am surein the beautifully-made coat he wore the other night, he lookedlike--like--'

'Like Prince Leopold, ma--so noble, so full of sentiment!'suggested Marianne, in a tone of enthusiastic admiration. 

'You should recollect, my dear, ' resumed Mrs. Malderton, 'thatTeresa is now eight-and-twenty; and that it really is veryimportant that something should be done. '

Miss Teresa Malderton was a very little girl, rather fat, withvermilion cheeks, but good-humoured, and still disengaged, although, to do her justice, the misfortune arose from no lack ofperseverance on her part. In vain had she flirted for ten years;in vain had Mr. And Mrs. Malderton assiduously kept up an extensiveacquaintance among the young eligible bachelors of Camberwell, andeven of Wandsworth and Brixton; to say nothing of those who'dropped in' from town. Miss Malderton was as well known as thelion on the top of Northumberland House, and had an equal chance of'going off. '

'I am quite sure you'd like him, ' continued Mrs. Malderton, 'he isso gentlemanly!'

'So clever!' said Miss Marianne. 

'And has such a flow of language!' added Miss Teresa. 

'He has a great respect for you, my dear, ' said Mrs. Malderton toher husband. Mr. Malderton coughed, and looked at the fire. 

'Yes I'm sure he's very much attached to pa's society, ' said MissMarianne. 

'No doubt of it, ' echoed Miss Teresa. 

'Indeed, he said as much to me in confidence, ' observed Mrs. Malderton. 

'Well, well, ' returned Mr. Malderton, somewhat flattered; 'if I seehim at the assembly to-morrow, perhaps I'll ask him down. I hopehe knows we live at Oak Lodge, Camberwell, my dear?'

'Of course--and that you keep a one-horse carriage. '

'I'll see about it, ' said Mr. Malderton, composing himself for anap; 'I'll see about it. '

Mr. Malderton was a man whose whole scope of ideas was limited toLloyd's, the Exchange, the India House, and the Bank. A fewsuccessful speculations had raised him from a situation ofobscurity and comparative poverty, to a state of affluence. Asfrequently happens in such cases, the ideas of himself and hisfamily became elevated to an extraordinary pitch as their meansincreased; they affected fashion, taste, and many other fooleries, in imitation of their betters, and had a very decided and becominghorror of anything which could, by possibility, be considered low. He was hospitable from ostentation, illiberal from ignorance, andprejudiced from conceit. Egotism and the love of display inducedhim to keep an excellent table: convenience, and a love of goodthings of this life, ensured him plenty of guests. He liked tohave clever men, or what he considered such, at his table, becauseit was a great thing to talk about; but he never could endure whathe called 'sharp fellows. ' Probably, he cherished this feeling outof compliment to his two sons, who gave their respected parent nouneasiness in that particular. The family were ambitious offorming acquaintances and connexions in some sphere of societysuperior to that in which they themselves moved; and one of thenecessary consequences of this desire, added to their utterignorance of the world beyond their own small circle, was, that anyone who could lay claim to an acquaintance with people of rank andtitle, had a sure passport to the table at Oak Lodge, Camberwell. 

The appearance of Mr. Horatio Sparkins at the assembly, had excitedno small degree of surprise and curiosity among its regularfrequenters. Who could he be? He was evidently reserved, andapparently melancholy. Was he a clergyman?--He danced too well. Abarrister?--He said he was not called. He used very fine words, and talked a great deal. Could he be a distinguished foreigner, come to England for the purpose of describing the country, itsmanners and customs; and frequenting public balls and publicdinners, with the view of becoming acquainted with high life, polished etiquette, and English refinement?--No, he had not aforeign accent. Was he a surgeon, a contributor to the magazines, a writer of fashionable novels, or an artist?--No; to each and allof these surmises, there existed some valid objection. --'Then, 'said everybody, 'he must be SOMEBODY. '--'I should think he mustbe, ' reasoned Mr. Malderton, within himself, 'because he perceivesour superiority, and pays us so much attention. '

The night succeeding the conversation we have just recorded, was'assembly night. ' The double-fly was ordered to be at the door ofOak Lodge at nine o'clock precisely. The Miss Maldertons weredressed in sky-blue satin trimmed with artificial flowers; and Mrs. M. (who was a little fat woman), in ditto ditto, looked like hereldest daughter multiplied by two. Mr. Frederick Malderton, theeldest son, in full-dress costume, was the very beau ideal of asmart waiter; and Mr. Thomas Malderton, the youngest, with hiswhite dress-stock, blue coat, bright buttons, and red watch-ribbon, strongly resembled the portrait of that interesting, but rash younggentleman, George Barnwell. Every member of the party had made uphis or her mind to cultivate the acquaintance of Mr. HoratioSparkins. Miss Teresa, of course, was to be as amiable andinteresting as ladies of eight-and-twenty on the look-out for ahusband, usually are. Mrs. Malderton would be all smiles andgraces. Miss Marianne would request the favour of some verses forher album. Mr. Malderton would patronise the great unknown byasking him to dinner. Tom intended to ascertain the extent of hisinformation on the interesting topics of snuff and cigars. EvenMr. Frederick Malderton himself, the family authority on all pointsof taste, dress, and fashionable arrangement; who had lodgings ofhis own in town; who had a free admission to Covent-garden theatre;who always dressed according to the fashions of the months; whowent up the water twice a-week in the season; and who actually hadan intimate friend who once knew a gentleman who formerly lived inthe Albany, --even he had determined that Mr. Horatio Sparkins mustbe a devilish good fellow, and that he would do him the honour ofchallenging him to a game at billiards. 

The first object that met the anxious eyes of the expectant familyon their entrance into the ball-room, was the interesting Horatio, with his hair brushed off his forehead, and his eyes fixed on theceiling, reclining in a contemplative attitude on one of the seats. 

'There he is, my dear, ' whispered Mrs. Malderton to Mr. Malderton. 

'How like Lord Byron!' murmured Miss Teresa. 

'Or Montgomery!' whispered Miss Marianne. 

'Or the portraits of Captain Cook!' suggested Tom. 

'Tom--don't be an ass!' said his father, who checked him on alloccasions, probably with a view to prevent his becoming 'sharp'--which was very unnecessary. 

The elegant Sparkins attitudinised with admirable effect, until thefamily had crossed the room. He then started up, with the mostnatural appearance of surprise and delight; accosted Mrs. Maldertonwith the utmost cordiality; saluted the young ladies in the mostenchanting manner; bowed to, and shook hands with Mr. Malderton, with a degree of respect amounting almost to veneration; andreturned the greetings of the two young men in a half-gratified, half-patronising manner, which fully convinced them that he must bean important, and, at the same time, condescending personage. 

'Miss Malderton, ' said Horatio, after the ordinary salutations, andbowing very low, 'may I be permitted to presume to hope that youwill allow me to have the pleasure--'

'I don't THINK I am engaged, ' said Miss Teresa, with a dreadfulaffectation of indifference--'but, really--so many--'

Horatio looked handsomely miserable. 

'I shall be most happy, ' simpered the interesting Teresa, at last. Horatio's countenance brightened up, like an old hat in a shower ofrain. 

'A very genteel young man, certainly!' said the gratified Mr. Malderton, as the obsequious Sparkins and his partner joined thequadrille which was just forming. 

'He has a remarkably good address, ' said Mr. Frederick. 

'Yes, he is a prime fellow, ' interposed Tom, who always managed toput his foot in it--'he talks just like an auctioneer. '

'Tom!' said his father solemnly, 'I think I desired you, before, not to be a fool. ' Tom looked as happy as a cock on a drizzlymorning. 

'How delightful!' said the interesting Horatio to his partner, asthey promenaded the room at the conclusion of the set--'howdelightful, how refreshing it is, to retire from the cloudy storms, the vicissitudes, and the troubles, of life, even if it be but fora few short fleeting moments: and to spend those moments, fadingand evanescent though they be, in the delightful, the blessedsociety of one individual--whose frowns would be death, whosecoldness would be madness, whose falsehood would be ruin, whoseconstancy would be bliss; the possession of whose affection wouldbe the brightest and best reward that Heaven could bestow on man?'

'What feeling! what sentiment!' thought Miss Teresa, as she leanedmore heavily on her companion's arm. 

'But enough--enough!' resumed the elegant Sparkins, with atheatrical air. 'What have I said? what have I--I--to do withsentiments like these! Miss Malderton'--here he stopped short--'may I hope to be permitted to offer the humble tribute of--'

'Really, Mr. Sparkins, ' returned the enraptured Teresa, blushing inthe sweetest confusion, 'I must refer you to papa. I never can, without his consent, venture to--'

'Surely he cannot object--'

'Oh, yes. Indeed, indeed, you know him not!' interrupted MissTeresa, well knowing there was nothing to fear, but wishing to makethe interview resemble a scene in some romantic novel. 

'He cannot object to my offering you a glass of negus, ' returnedthe adorable Sparkins, with some surprise. 

'Is that all?' thought the disappointed Teresa. 'What a fuss aboutnothing!'

'It will give me the greatest pleasure, sir, to see you to dinnerat Oak Lodge, Camberwell, on Sunday next at five o'clock, if youhave no better engagement, ' said Mr. Malderton, at the conclusionof the evening, as he and his sons were standing in conversationwith Mr. Horatio Sparkins. 

Horatio bowed his acknowledgments, and accepted the flatteringinvitation. 

'I must confess, ' continued the father, offering his snuff-box tohis new acquaintance, 'that I don't enjoy these assemblies half somuch as the comfort--I had almost said the luxury--of Oak Lodge. They have no great charms for an elderly man. '

'And after all, sir, what is man?' said the metaphysical Sparkins. 'I say, what is man?'

'Ah! very true, ' said Mr. Malderton; 'very true. '

'We know that we live and breathe, ' continued Horatio; 'that wehave wants and wishes, desires and appetites--'

'Certainly, ' said Mr. Frederick Malderton, looking profound. 

'I say, we know that we exist, ' repeated Horatio, raising hisvoice, 'but there we stop; there, is an end to our knowledge;there, is the summit of our attainments; there, is the terminationof our ends. What more do we know?'

'Nothing, ' replied Mr. Frederick--than whom no one was more capableof answering for himself in that particular. Tom was about tohazard something, but, fortunately for his reputation, he caughthis father's angry eye, and slunk off like a puppy convicted ofpetty larceny. 

'Upon my word, ' said Mr. Malderton the elder, as they werereturning home in the fly, 'that Mr. Sparkins is a wonderful youngman. Such surprising knowledge! such extraordinary information!and such a splendid mode of expressing himself!'

'I think he must be somebody in disguise, ' said Miss Marianne. 'How charmingly romantic!'

'He talks very loud and nicely, ' timidly observed Tom, 'but I don'texactly understand what he means. '

'I almost begin to despair of your understanding anything, Tom, 'said his father, who, of course, had been much enlightened by Mr. Horatio Sparkins's conversation. 

'It strikes me, Tom, ' said Miss Teresa, 'that you have madeyourself very ridiculous this evening. '

'No doubt of it, ' cried everybody--and the unfortunate Tom reducedhimself into the least possible space. That night, Mr. And Mrs. Malderton had a long conversation respecting their daughter'sprospects and future arrangements. Miss Teresa went to bed, considering whether, in the event of her marrying a title, shecould conscientiously encourage the visits of her presentassociates; and dreamed, all night, of disguised noblemen, largerouts, ostrich plumes, bridal favours, and Horatio Sparkins. 

Various surmises were hazarded on the Sunday morning, as to themode of conveyance which the anxiously-expected Horatio wouldadopt. Did he keep a gig?--was it possible he could come onhorseback?--or would he patronize the stage? These, and othervarious conjectures of equal importance, engrossed the attention ofMrs. Malderton and her daughters during the whole morning afterchurch. 

'Upon my word, my dear, it's a most annoying thing that that vulgarbrother of yours should have invited himself to dine here to-day, 'said Mr. Malderton to his wife. 'On account of Mr. Sparkins'scoming down, I purposely abstained from asking any one butFlamwell. And then to think of your brother--a tradesman--it'sinsufferable! I declare I wouldn't have him mention his shop, before our new guest--no, not for a thousand pounds! I wouldn'tcare if he had the good sense to conceal the disgrace he is to thefamily; but he's so fond of his horrible business, that he WILL letpeople know what he is. '

Mr. Jacob Barton, the individual alluded to, was a large grocer; sovulgar, and so lost to all sense of feeling, that he actually neverscrupled to avow that he wasn't above his business: 'he'd made hismoney by it, and he didn't care who know'd it. '

'Ah! Flamwell, my dear fellow, how d'ye do?' said Mr. Malderton, asa little spoffish man, with green spectacles, entered the room. 'You got my note?'

'Yes, I did; and here I am in consequence. '

'You don't happen to know this Mr. Sparkins by name? You knoweverybody?'

Mr. Flamwell was one of those gentlemen of remarkably extensiveinformation whom one occasionally meets in society, who pretend toknow everybody, but in reality know nobody. At Malderton's, whereany stories about great people were received with a greedy ear, hewas an especial favourite; and, knowing the kind of people he hadto deal with, he carried his passion of claiming acquaintance witheverybody, to the most immoderate length. He had rather a singularway of telling his greatest lies in a parenthesis, and with an airof self-denial, as if he feared being thought egotistical. 

'Why, no, I don't know him by that name, ' returned Flamwell, in alow tone, and with an air of immense importance. 'I have no doubtI know him, though. Is he tall?'

'Middle-sized, ' said Miss Teresa. 

'With black hair?' inquired Flamwell, hazarding a bold guess. 

'Yes, ' returned Miss Teresa, eagerly. 

'Rather a snub nose?'

'No, ' said the disappointed Teresa, 'he has a Roman nose. '

'I said a Roman nose, didn't I?' inquired Flamwell. 'He's anelegant young man?'

'Oh, certainly. '

'With remarkably prepossessing manners?'

'Oh, yes!' said all the family together. 'You must know him. '

'Yes, I thought you knew him, if he was anybody, ' triumphantlyexclaimed Mr. Malderton. 'Who d'ye think he is?'

'Why, from your description, ' said Flamwell, ruminating, andsinking his voice, almost to a whisper, 'he bears a strongresemblance to the Honourable Augustus Fitz-Edward Fitz-John Fitz-Osborne. He's a very talented young man, and rather eccentric. It's extremely probable he may have changed his name for sometemporary purpose. '

Teresa's heart beat high. Could he be the Honourable AugustusFitz-Edward Fitz-John Fitz-Osborne! What a name to be elegantlyengraved upon two glazed cards, tied together with a piece of whitesatin ribbon! 'The Honourable Mrs. Augustus Fitz-Edward Fitz-JohnFitz-Osborne!' The thought was transport. 

'It's five minutes to five, ' said Mr. Malderton, looking at hiswatch: 'I hope he's not going to disappoint us. '

'There he is!' exclaimed Miss Teresa, as a loud double-knock washeard at the door. Everybody endeavoured to look--as people whenthey particularly expect a visitor always do--as if they wereperfectly unsuspicious of the approach of anybody. 

The room-door opened--'Mr. Barton!' said the servant. 

'Confound the man!' murmured Malderton. 'Ah! my dear sir, how d'yedo! Any news?'

'Why no, ' returned the grocer, in his usual bluff manner. 'No, none partickler. None that I am much aware of. How d'ye do, galsand boys? Mr. Flamwell, sir--glad to see you. '

'Here's Mr. Sparkins!' said Tom, who had been looking out at thewindow, 'on SUCH a black horse!' There was Horatio, sure enough, on a large black horse, curvetting and prancing along, like anAstley's supernumerary. After a great deal of reining in, andpulling up, with the accompaniments of snorting, rearing, andkicking, the animal consented to stop at about a hundred yards fromthe gate, where Mr. Sparkins dismounted, and confided him to thecare of Mr. Malderton's groom. The ceremony of introduction wasgone through, in all due form. Mr. Flamwell looked from behind hisgreen spectacles at Horatio with an air of mysterious importance;and the gallant Horatio looked unutterable things at Teresa. 

'Is he the Honourable Mr. Augustus What's-his-name?' whispered Mrs. Malderton to Flamwell, as he was escorting her to the dining-room. 

'Why, no--at least not exactly, ' returned that great authority--'not exactly. '

'Who IS he then?'

'Hush!' said Flamwell, nodding his head with a grave air, importingthat he knew very well; but was prevented, by some grave reasons ofstate, from disclosing the important secret. It might be one ofthe ministers making himself acquainted with the views of thepeople. 

'Mr. Sparkins, ' said the delighted Mrs. Malderton, 'pray divide theladies. John, put a chair for the gentleman between Miss Teresaand Miss Marianne. ' This was addressed to a man who, on ordinaryoccasions, acted as half-groom, half-gardener; but who, as it wasimportant to make an impression on Mr. Sparkins, had been forcedinto a white neckerchief and shoes, and touched up, and brushed, tolook like a second footman. 

The dinner was excellent; Horatio was most attentive to MissTeresa, and every one felt in high spirits, except Mr. Malderton, who, knowing the propensity of his brother-in-law, Mr. Barton, endured that sort of agony which the newspapers inform us isexperienced by the surrounding neighbourhood when a pot-boy hangshimself in a hay-loft, and which is 'much easier to be imaginedthan described. '

'Have you seen your friend, Sir Thomas Noland, lately, Flamwell?'inquired Mr. Malderton, casting a sidelong look at Horatio, to seewhat effect the mention of so great a man had upon him. 

'Why, no--not very lately. I saw Lord Gubbleton the day beforeyesterday. '

'All! I hope his lordship is very well?' said Malderton, in a toneof the greatest interest. It is scarcely necessary to say that, until that moment, he had been quite innocent of the existence ofsuch a person. 

'Why, yes; he was very well--very well indeed. He's a devilishgood fellow. I met him in the City, and had a long chat with him. Indeed, I'm rather intimate with him. I couldn't stop to talk tohim as long as I could wish, though, because I was on my way to abanker's, a very rich man, and a member of Parliament, with whom Iam also rather, indeed I may say very, intimate. '

'I know whom you mean, ' returned the host, consequentially--inreality knowing as much about the matter as Flamwell himself. --'Hehas a capital business. '

This was touching on a dangerous topic. 

'Talking of business, ' interposed Mr. Barton, from the centre ofthe table. 'A gentleman whom you knew very well, Malderton, beforeyou made that first lucky spec of yours, called at our shop theother day, and--'

'Barton, may I trouble you for a potato?' interrupted the wretchedmaster of the house, hoping to nip the story in the bud. 

'Certainly, ' returned the grocer, quite insensible of his brother-in-law's object--'and he said in a very plain manner--'

'FLOURY, if you please, ' interrupted Malderton again; dreading thetermination of the anecdote, and fearing a repetition of the word'shop. '

'He said, says he, ' continued the culprit, after despatching thepotato; 'says he, how goes on your business? So I said, jokingly--you know my way--says I, I'm never above my business, and I hope mybusiness will never be above me. Ha, ha!'

'Mr. Sparkins, ' said the host, vainly endeavouring to conceal hisdismay, 'a glass of wine?'

'With the utmost pleasure, sir. '

'Happy to see you. '

'Thank you. '

'We were talking the other evening, ' resumed the host, addressingHoratio, partly with the view of displaying the conversationalpowers of his new acquaintance, and partly in the hope of drowningthe grocer's stories--'we were talking the other night about thenature of man. Your argument struck me very forcibly. '

'And me, ' said Mr. Frederick. Horatio made a graceful inclinationof the head. 

'Pray, what is your opinion of woman, Mr. Sparkins?' inquired Mrs. Malderton. The young ladies simpered. 

'Man, ' replied Horatio, 'man, whether he ranged the bright, gay, flowery plains of a second Eden, or the more sterile, barren, and Imay say, commonplace regions, to which we are compelled to accustomourselves, in times such as these; man, under any circumstances, orin any place--whether he were bending beneath the withering blastsof the frigid zone, or scorching under the rays of a vertical sun--man, without woman, would be--alone. '

'I am very happy to find you entertain such honourable opinions, Mr. Sparkins, ' said Mrs. Malderton. 

'And I, ' added Miss Teresa. Horatio looked his delight, and theyoung lady blushed. 

'Now, it's my opinion--' said Mr. Barton. 

'I know what you're going to say, ' interposed Malderton, determinednot to give his relation another opportunity, 'and I don't agreewith you. '

'What!' inquired the astonished grocer. 

'I am sorry to differ from you, Barton, ' said the host, in aspositive a manner as if he really were contradicting a positionwhich the other had laid down, 'but I cannot give my assent to whatI consider a very monstrous proposition. '

'But I meant to say--'

'You never can convince me, ' said Malderton, with an air ofobstinate determination. 'Never. '

'And I, ' said Mr. Frederick, following up his father's attack, 'cannot entirely agree in Mr. Sparkins's argument. '

'What!' said Horatio, who became more metaphysical, and moreargumentative, as he saw the female part of the family listening inwondering delight--'what! Is effect the consequence of cause? Iscause the precursor of effect?'

'That's the point, ' said Flamwell. 

'To be sure, ' said Mr. Malderton. 

'Because, if effect is the consequence of cause, and if cause doesprecede effect, I apprehend you are wrong, ' added Horatio. 

'Decidedly, ' said the toad-eating Flamwell. 

'At least, I apprehend that to be the just and logical deduction?'said Sparkins, in a tone of interrogation. 

'No doubt of it, ' chimed in Flamwell again. 'It settles thepoint. '

'Well, perhaps it does, ' said Mr. Frederick; 'I didn't see itbefore. '

'I don't exactly see it now, ' thought the grocer; 'but I supposeit's all right. '

'How wonderfully clever he is!' whispered Mrs. Malderton to herdaughters, as they retired to the drawing-room. 

'Oh, he's quite a love!' said both the young ladies together; 'hetalks like an oracle. He must have seen a great deal of life. '

The gentlemen being left to themselves, a pause ensued, duringwhich everybody looked very grave, as if they were quite overcomeby the profound nature of the previous discussion. Flamwell, whohad made up his mind to find out who and what Mr. Horatio Sparkinsreally was, first broke silence. 

'Excuse me, sir, ' said that distinguished personage, 'I presume youhave studied for the bar? I thought of entering once, myself--indeed, I'm rather intimate with some of the highest ornaments ofthat distinguished profession. '

'N-no!' said Horatio, with a little hesitation; 'not exactly. '

'But you have been much among the silk gowns, or I mistake?'inquired Flamwell, deferentially. 

'Nearly all my life, ' returned Sparkins. 

The question was thus pretty well settled in the mind of Mr. Flamwell. He was a young gentleman 'about to be called. '

'I shouldn't like to be a barrister, ' said Tom, speaking for thefirst time, and looking round the table to find somebody who wouldnotice the remark. 

No one made any reply. 

'I shouldn't like to wear a wig, ' said Tom, hazarding anotherobservation. 

'Tom, I beg you will not make yourself ridiculous, ' said hisfather. 'Pray listen, and improve yourself by the conversation youhear, and don't be constantly making these absurd remarks. '

'Very well, father, ' replied the unfortunate Tom, who had notspoken a word since he had asked for another slice of beef at aquarter-past five o'clock, P. M. , and it was then eight. 

'Well, Tom, ' observed his good-natured uncle, 'never mind! _I_think with you. I shouldn't like to wear a wig. I'd rather wearan apron. '

Mr. Malderton coughed violently. Mr. Barton resumed--'For if aman's above his business--'

The cough returned with tenfold violence, and did not cease untilthe unfortunate cause of it, in his alarm, had quite forgotten whathe intended to say. 

'Mr. Sparkins, ' said Flamwell, returning to the charge, 'do youhappen to know Mr. Delafontaine, of Bedford-square?'

'I have exchanged cards with him; since which, indeed, I have hadan opportunity of serving him considerably, ' replied Horatio, slightly colouring; no doubt, at having been betrayed into makingthe acknowledgment. 

'You are very lucky, if you have had an opportunity of obligingthat great man, ' observed Flamwell, with an air of profoundrespect. 

'I don't know who he is, ' he whispered to Mr. Malderton, confidentially, as they followed Horatio up to the drawing-room. 'It's quite clear, however, that he belongs to the law, and that heis somebody of great importance, and very highly connected. '

'No doubt, no doubt, ' returned his companion. 

The remainder of the evening passed away most delightfully. Mr. Malderton, relieved from his apprehensions by the circumstance ofMr. Barton's falling into a profound sleep, was as affable andgracious as possible. Miss Teresa played the 'Fall of Paris, ' asMr. Sparkins declared, in a most masterly manner, and both of them, assisted by Mr. Frederick, tried over glees and trios withoutnumber; they having made the pleasing discovery that their voicesharmonised beautifully. To be sure, they all sang the first part;and Horatio, in addition to the slight drawback of having no ear, was perfectly innocent of knowing a note of music; still, theypassed the time very agreeably, and it was past twelve o'clockbefore Mr. Sparkins ordered the mourning-coach-looking steed to bebrought out--an order which was only complied with, on the distinctunderstanding that he was to repeat his visit on the followingSunday. 

'But, perhaps, Mr. Sparkins will form one of our party to-morrowevening?' suggested Mrs. M. 'Mr. Malderton intends taking thegirls to see the pantomime. ' Mr. Sparkins bowed, and promised tojoin the party in box 48, in the course of the evening. 

'We will not tax you for the morning, ' said Miss Teresa, bewitchingly; 'for ma is going to take us to all sorts of places, shopping. I know that gentlemen have a great horror of thatemployment. ' Mr. Sparkins bowed again, and declared that he shouldbe delighted, but business of importance occupied him in themorning. Flamwell looked at Malderton significantly. --'It's termtime!' he whispered. 

At twelve o'clock on the following morning, the 'fly' was at thedoor of Oak Lodge, to convey Mrs. Malderton and her daughters ontheir expedition for the day. They were to dine and dress for theplay at a friend's house. First, driving thither with their band-boxes, they departed on their first errand to make some purchasesat Messrs. Jones, Spruggins, and Smith's, of Tottenham-court-road;after which, they were to go to Redmayne's in Bond-street; thence, to innumerable places that no one ever heard of. The young ladiesbeguiled the tediousness of the ride by eulogising Mr. HoratioSparkins, scolding their mamma for taking them so far to save ashilling, and wondering whether they should ever reach theirdestination. At length, the vehicle stopped before a dirty-lookingticketed linen-draper's shop, with goods of all kinds, and labelsof all sorts and sizes, in the window. There were dropsicalfigures of seven with a little three-farthings in the corner;'perfectly invisible to the naked eye;' three hundred and fiftythousand ladies' boas, FROM one shilling and a penny halfpenny;real French kid shoes, at two and ninepence per pair; greenparasols, at an equally cheap rate; and 'every description ofgoods, ' as the proprietors said--and they must know best--'fiftyper cent. Under cost price. '

'Lor! ma, what a place you have brought us to!' said Miss Teresa;'what WOULD Mr. Sparkins say if he could see us!'

'Ah! what, indeed!' said Miss Marianne, horrified at the idea. 

'Pray be seated, ladies. What is the first article?' inquired theobsequious master of the ceremonies of the establishment, who, inhis large white neckcloth and formal tie, looked like a bad'portrait of a gentleman' in the Somerset-house exhibition. 

'I want to see some silks, ' answered Mrs. Malderton. 

'Directly, ma'am. --Mr. Smith! Where IS Mr. Smith?'

'Here, sir, ' cried a voice at the back of the shop. 

'Pray make haste, Mr. Smith, ' said the M. C. 'You never are to befound when you're wanted, sir. '

Mr. Smith, thus enjoined to use all possible despatch, leaped overthe counter with great agility, and placed himself before thenewly-arrived customers. Mrs. Malderton uttered a faint scream;Miss Teresa, who had been stooping down to talk to her sister, raised her head, and beheld--Horatio Sparkins!

'We will draw a veil, ' as novel-writers say, over the scene thatensued. The mysterious, philosophical, romantic, metaphysicalSparkins--he who, to the interesting Teresa, seemed like theembodied idea of the young dukes and poetical exquisites in bluesilk dressing-gowns, and ditto ditto slippers, of whom she had readand dreamed, but had never expected to behold, was suddenlyconverted into Mr. Samuel Smith, the assistant at a 'cheap shop;'the junior partner in a slippery firm of some three weeks'existence. The dignified evanishment of the hero of Oak Lodge, onthis unexpected recognition, could only be equalled by that of afurtive dog with a considerable kettle at his tail. All the hopesof the Maldertons were destined at once to melt away, like thelemon ices at a Company's dinner; Almack's was still to them asdistant as the North Pole; and Miss Teresa had as much chance of ahusband as Captain Ross had of the north-west passage. 

Years have elapsed since the occurrence of this dreadful morning. The daisies have thrice bloomed on Camberwell-green; the sparrowshave thrice repeated their vernal chirps in Camberwell-grove; butthe Miss Maldertons are still unmated. Miss Teresa's case is moredesperate than ever; but Flamwell is yet in the zenith of hisreputation; and the family have the same predilection foraristocratic personages, with an increased aversion to anythingLOW. 

CHAPTER VI--THE BLACK VEIL

One winter's evening, towards the close of the year 1800, or withina year or two of that time, a young medical practitioner, recentlyestablished in business, was seated by a cheerful fire in hislittle parlour, listening to the wind which was beating the rain inpattering drops against the window, or rumbling dismally in thechimney. The night was wet and cold; he had been walking throughmud and water the whole day, and was now comfortably reposing inhis dressing-gown and slippers, more than half asleep and less thanhalf awake, revolving a thousand matters in his wanderingimagination. First, he thought how hard the wind was blowing, andhow the cold, sharp rain would be at that moment beating in hisface, if he were not comfortably housed at home. Then, his mindreverted to his annual Christmas visit to his native place anddearest friends; he thought how glad they would all be to see him, and how happy it would make Rose if he could only tell her that hehad found a patient at last, and hoped to have more, and to comedown again, in a few months' time, and marry her, and take her hometo gladden his lonely fireside, and stimulate him to freshexertions. Then, he began to wonder when his first patient wouldappear, or whether he was destined, by a special dispensation ofProvidence, never to have any patients at all; and then, he thoughtabout Rose again, and dropped to sleep and dreamed about her, tillthe tones of her sweet merry voice sounded in his ears, and hersoft tiny hand rested on his shoulder. 

There WAS a hand upon his shoulder, but it was neither soft nortiny; its owner being a corpulent round-headed boy, who, inconsideration of the sum of one shilling per week and his food, waslet out by the parish to carry medicine and messages. As there wasno demand for the medicine, however, and no necessity for themessages, he usually occupied his unemployed hours--averagingfourteen a day--in abstracting peppermint drops, taking animalnourishment, and going to sleep. 

'A lady, sir--a lady!' whispered the boy, rousing his master with ashake. 

'What lady?' cried our friend, starting up, not quite certain thathis dream was an illusion, and half expecting that it might be Roseherself. --'What lady? Where?'

'THERE, sir!' replied the boy, pointing to the glass door leadinginto the surgery, with an expression of alarm which the veryunusual apparition of a customer might have tended to excite. 

The surgeon looked towards the door, and started himself, for aninstant, on beholding the appearance of his unlooked-for visitor. 

It was a singularly tall woman, dressed in deep mourning, andstanding so close to the door that her face almost touched theglass. The upper part of her figure was carefully muffled in ablack shawl, as if for the purpose of concealment; and her face wasshrouded by a thick black veil. She stood perfectly erect, herfigure was drawn up to its full height, and though the surgeon feltthat the eyes beneath the veil were fixed on him, she stoodperfectly motionless, and evinced, by no gesture whatever, theslightest consciousness of his having turned towards her. 

'Do you wish to consult me?' he inquired, with some hesitation, holding open the door. It opened inwards, and therefore the actiondid not alter the position of the figure, which still remainedmotionless on the same spot. 

She slightly inclined her head, in token of acquiescence. 

'Pray walk in, ' said the surgeon. 

The figure moved a step forward; and then, turning its head in thedirection of the boy--to his infinite horror--appeared to hesitate. 

'Leave the room, Tom, ' said the young man, addressing the boy, whose large round eyes had been extended to their utmost widthduring this brief interview. 'Draw the curtain, and shut thedoor. '

The boy drew a green curtain across the glass part of the door, retired into the surgery, closed the door after him, andimmediately applied one of his large eyes to the keyhole on theother side. 

The surgeon drew a chair to the fire, and motioned the visitor to aseat. The mysterious figure slowly moved towards it. As the blazeshone upon the black dress, the surgeon observed that the bottom ofit was saturated with mud and rain. 

'You are very wet, ' be said. 

'I am, ' said the stranger, in a low deep voice. 

'And you are ill?' added the surgeon, compassionately, for the tonewas that of a person in pain. 

'I am, ' was the reply--'very ill; not bodily, but mentally. It isnot for myself, or on my own behalf, ' continued the stranger, 'thatI come to you. If I laboured under bodily disease, I should not beout, alone, at such an hour, or on such a night as this; and if Iwere afflicted with it, twenty-four hours hence, God knows howgladly I would lie down and pray to die. It is for another that Ibeseech your aid, sir. I may be mad to ask it for him--I think Iam; but, night after night, through the long dreary hours ofwatching and weeping, the thought has been ever present to my mind;and though even _I_ see the hopelessness of human assistanceavailing him, the bare thought of laying him in his grave withoutit makes my blood run cold!' And a shudder, such as the surgeonwell knew art could not produce, trembled through the speaker'sframe. 

There was a desperate earnestness in this woman's manner, that wentto the young man's heart. He was young in his profession, and hadnot yet witnessed enough of the miseries which are daily presentedbefore the eyes of its members, to have grown comparatively callousto human suffering. 

'If, ' he said, rising hastily, 'the person of whom you speak, be inso hopeless a condition as you describe, not a moment is to belost. I will go with you instantly. Why did you not obtainmedical advice before?'

'Because it would have been useless before--because it is uselesseven now, ' replied the woman, clasping her hands passionately. 

The surgeon gazed, for a moment, on the black veil, as if toascertain the expression of the features beneath it: itsthickness, however, rendered such a result impossible. 

'You ARE ill, ' he said, gently, 'although you do not know it. Thefever which has enabled you to bear, without feeling it, thefatigue you have evidently undergone, is burning within you now. Put that to your lips, ' he continued, pouring out a glass of water--'compose yourself for a few moments, and then tell me, as calmlyas you can, what the disease of the patient is, and how long he hasbeen ill. When I know what it is necessary I should know, torender my visit serviceable to him, I am ready to accompany you. '

The stranger lifted the glass of water to her mouth, withoutraising the veil; put it down again untasted; and burst into tears. 

'I know, ' she said, sobbing aloud, 'that what I say to you now, seems like the ravings of fever. I have been told so before, lesskindly than by you. I am not a young woman; and they do say, thatas life steals on towards its final close, the last short remnant, worthless as it may seem to all beside, is dearer to its possessorthan all the years that have gone before, connected though they bewith the recollection of old friends long since dead, and youngones--children perhaps--who have fallen off from, and forgotten oneas completely as if they had died too. My natural term of lifecannot be many years longer, and should be dear on that account;but I would lay it down without a sigh--with cheerfulness--withjoy--if what I tell you now, were only false, or imaginary. To-morrow morning he of whom I speak will be, I KNOW, though I wouldfain think otherwise, beyond the reach of human aid; and yet, to-night, though he is in deadly peril, you must not see, and couldnot serve, him. '

'I am unwilling to increase your distress, ' said the surgeon, aftera short pause, 'by making any comment on what you have just said, or appearing desirous to investigate a subject you are so anxiousto conceal; but there is an inconsistency in your statement which Icannot reconcile with probability. This person is dying to-night, and I cannot see him when my assistance might possibly avail; youapprehend it will be useless to-morrow, and yet you would have mesee him then! If he be, indeed, as dear to you, as your words andmanner would imply, why not try to save his life before delay andthe progress of his disease render it impracticable?'

'God help me!' exclaimed the woman, weeping bitterly, 'how can Ihope strangers will believe what appears incredible, even tomyself? You will NOT see him then, sir?' she added, risingsuddenly. 

'I did not say that I declined to see him, ' replied the surgeon;'but I warn you, that if you persist in this extraordinaryprocrastination, and the individual dies, a fearful responsibilityrests with you. '

'The responsibility will rest heavily somewhere, ' replied thestranger bitterly. 'Whatever responsibility rests with me, I amcontent to bear, and ready to answer. '

'As I incur none, ' continued the surgeon, 'by acceding to yourrequest, I will see him in the morning, if you leave me theaddress. At what hour can he be seen?'

'NINE, ' replied the stranger. 

'You must excuse my pressing these inquiries, ' said the surgeon. 'But is he in your charge now?'

'He is not, ' was the rejoinder. 

'Then, if I gave you instructions for his treatment through thenight, you could not assist him?'

The woman wept bitterly, as she replied, 'I could not. '

Finding that there was but little prospect of obtaining moreinformation by prolonging the interview; and anxious to spare thewoman's feelings, which, subdued at first by a violent effort, werenow irrepressible and most painful to witness; the surgeon repeatedhis promise of calling in the morning at the appointed hour. Hisvisitor, after giving him a direction to an obscure part ofWalworth, left the house in the same mysterious manner in which shehad entered it. 

It will be readily believed that so extraordinary a visit produceda considerable impression on the mind of the young surgeon; andthat he speculated a great deal and to very little purpose on thepossible circumstances of the case. In common with the generalityof people, he had often heard and read of singular instances, inwhich a presentiment of death, at a particular day, or even minute, had been entertained and realised. At one moment he was inclinedto think that the present might be such a case; but, then, itoccurred to him that all the anecdotes of the kind he had everheard, were of persons who had been troubled with a foreboding oftheir own death. This woman, however, spoke of another person--aman; and it was impossible to suppose that a mere dream or delusionof fancy would induce her to speak of his approaching dissolutionwith such terrible certainty as she had spoken. It could not bethat the man was to be murdered in the morning, and that the woman, originally a consenting party, and bound to secrecy by an oath, hadrelented, and, though unable to prevent the commission of someoutrage on the victim, had determined to prevent his death ifpossible, by the timely interposition of medical aid? The idea ofsuch things happening within two miles of the metropolis appearedtoo wild and preposterous to be entertained beyond the instant. Then, his original impression that the woman's intellects weredisordered, recurred; and, as it was the only mode of solving thedifficulty with any degree of satisfaction, he obstinately made uphis mind to believe that she was mad. Certain misgivings upon thispoint, however, stole upon his thoughts at the time, and presentedthemselves again and again through the long dull course of asleepless night; during which, in spite of all his efforts to thecontrary, he was unable to banish the black veil from his disturbedimagination. 

The back part of Walworth, at its greatest distance from town, is astraggling miserable place enough, even in these days; but, five-and-thirty years ago, the greater portion of it was little betterthan a dreary waste, inhabited by a few scattered people ofquestionable character, whose poverty prevented their living in anybetter neighbourhood, or whose pursuits and mode of life renderedits solitude desirable. Very many of the houses which have sincesprung up on all sides, were not built until some years afterwards;and the great majority even of those which were sprinkled about, atirregular intervals, were of the rudest and most miserabledescription. 

The appearance of the place through which he walked in the morning, was not calculated to raise the spirits of the young surgeon, or todispel any feeling of anxiety or depression which the singular kindof visit he was about to make, had awakened. Striking off from thehigh road, his way lay across a marshy common, through irregularlanes, with here and there a ruinous and dismantled cottage fastfalling to pieces with decay and neglect. A stunted tree, or poolof stagnant water, roused into a sluggish action by the heavy rainof the preceding night, skirted the path occasionally; and, now andthen, a miserable patch of garden-ground, with a few old boardsknocked together for a summer-house, and old palings imperfectlymended with stakes pilfered from the neighbouring hedges, boretestimony, at once to the poverty of the inhabitants, and thelittle scruple they entertained in appropriating the property ofother people to their own use. Occasionally, a filthy-lookingwoman would make her appearance from the door of a dirty house, toempty the contents of some cooking utensil into the gutter infront, or to scream after a little slip-shod girl, who hadcontrived to stagger a few yards from the door under the weight ofa sallow infant almost as big as herself; but, scarcely anythingwas stirring around: and so much of the prospect as could befaintly traced through the cold damp mist which hung heavily overit, presented a lonely and dreary appearance perfectly in keepingwith the objects we have described. 

After plodding wearily through the mud and mire; making manyinquiries for the place to which he had been directed; andreceiving as many contradictory and unsatisfactory replies inreturn; the young man at length arrived before the house which hadbeen pointed out to him as the object of his destination. It was asmall low building, one story above the ground, with even a moredesolate and unpromising exterior than any he had yet passed. Anold yellow curtain was closely drawn across the window up-stairs, and the parlour shutters were closed, but not fastened. The housewas detached from any other, and, as it stood at an angle of anarrow lane, there was no other habitation in sight. 

When we say that the surgeon hesitated, and walked a few pacesbeyond the house, before he could prevail upon himself to lift theknocker, we say nothing that need raise a smile upon the face ofthe boldest reader. The police of London were a very differentbody in that day; the isolated position of the suburbs, when therage for building and the progress of improvement had not yet begunto connect them with the main body of the city and its environs, rendered many of them (and this in particular) a place of resortfor the worst and most depraved characters. Even the streets inthe gayest parts of London were imperfectly lighted, at that time;and such places as these, were left entirely to the mercy of themoon and stars. The chances of detecting desperate characters, orof tracing them to their haunts, were thus rendered very few, andtheir offences naturally increased in boldness, as theconsciousness of comparative security became the more impressedupon them by daily experience. Added to these considerations, itmust be remembered that the young man had spent some time in thepublic hospitals of the metropolis; and, although neither Burke norBishop had then gained a horrible notoriety, his own observationmight have suggested to him how easily the atrocities to which theformer has since given his name, might be committed. Be this as itmay, whatever reflection made him hesitate, he DID hesitate: but, being a young man of strong mind and great personal courage, it wasonly for an instant;--he stepped briskly back and knocked gently atthe door. 

A low whispering was audible, immediately afterwards, as if someperson at the end of the passage were conversing stealthily withanother on the landing above. It was succeeded by the noise of apair of heavy boots upon the bare floor. The door-chain was softlyunfastened; the door opened; and a tall, ill-favoured man, withblack hair, and a face, as the surgeon often declared afterwards, as pale and haggard, as the countenance of any dead man he eversaw, presented himself. 

'Walk in, sir, ' he said in a low tone. 

The surgeon did so, and the man having secured the door again, bythe chain, led the way to a small back parlour at the extremity ofthe passage. 

'Am I in time?'

'Too soon!' replied the man. The surgeon turned hastily round, with a gesture of astonishment not unmixed with alarm, which hefound it impossible to repress. 

'If you'll step in here, sir, ' said the man, who had evidentlynoticed the action--'if you'll step in here, sir, you won't bedetained five minutes, I assure you. '

The surgeon at once walked into the room. The man closed the door, and left him alone. 

It was a little cold room, with no other furniture than two dealchairs, and a table of the same material. A handful of fire, unguarded by any fender, was burning in the grate, which broughtout the damp if it served no more comfortable purpose, for theunwholesome moisture was stealing down the walls, in long slug-liketracks. The window, which was broken and patched in many places, looked into a small enclosed piece of ground, almost covered withwater. Not a sound was to be heard, either within the house, orwithout. The young surgeon sat down by the fireplace, to await theresult of his first professional visit. 

He had not remained in this position many minutes, when the noiseof some approaching vehicle struck his ear. It stopped; thestreet-door was opened; a low talking succeeded, accompanied with ashuffling noise of footsteps, along the passage and on the stairs, as if two or three men were engaged in carrying some heavy body tothe room above. The creaking of the stairs, a few secondsafterwards, announced that the new-comers having completed theirtask, whatever it was, were leaving the house. The door was againclosed, and the former silence was restored. 

Another five minutes had elapsed, and the surgeon had resolved toexplore the house, in search of some one to whom he might make hiserrand known, when the room-door opened, and his last night'svisitor, dressed in exactly the same manner, with the veil loweredas before, motioned him to advance. The singular height of herform, coupled with the circumstance of her not speaking, caused theidea to pass across his brain for an instant, that it might be aman disguised in woman's attire. The hysteric sobs which issuedfrom beneath the veil, and the convulsive attitude of grief of thewhole figure, however, at once exposed the absurdity of thesuspicion; and he hastily followed. 

The woman led the way up-stairs to the front room, and paused atthe door, to let him enter first. It was scantily furnished withan old deal box, a few chairs, and a tent bedstead, withouthangings or cross-rails, which was covered with a patchworkcounterpane. The dim light admitted through the curtain which hehad noticed from the outside, rendered the objects in the room soindistinct, and communicated to all of them so uniform a hue, thathe did not, at first, perceive the object on which his eye at oncerested when the woman rushed frantically past him, and flungherself on her knees by the bedside. 

Stretched upon the bed, closely enveloped in a linen wrapper, andcovered with blankets, lay a human form, stiff and motionless. Thehead and face, which were those of a man, were uncovered, save by abandage which passed over the head and under the chin. The eyeswere closed. The left arm lay heavily across the bed, and thewoman held the passive hand. 

The surgeon gently pushed the woman aside, and took the hand inhis. 

'My God!' he exclaimed, letting it fall involuntarily--'the man isdead!'

The woman started to her feet and beat her hands together. 

'Oh! don't say so, sir, ' she exclaimed, with a burst of passion, amounting almost to frenzy. 'Oh! don't say so, sir! I can't bearit! Men have been brought to life, before, when unskilful peoplehave given them up for lost; and men have died, who might have beenrestored, if proper means had been resorted to. Don't let him liehere, sir, without one effort to save him! This very moment lifemay be passing away. Do try, sir, --do, for Heaven's sake!'--Andwhile speaking, she hurriedly chafed, first the forehead, and thenthe breast, of the senseless form before her; and then, wildly beatthe cold hands, which, when she ceased to hold them, felllistlessly and heavily back on the coverlet. 

'It is of no use, my good woman, ' said the surgeon, soothingly, ashe withdrew his hand from the man's breast. 'Stay--undraw thatcurtain!'

'Why?' said the woman, starting up. 

'Undraw that curtain!' repeated the surgeon in an agitated tone. 

'I darkened the room on purpose, ' said the woman, throwing herselfbefore him as he rose to undraw it. --'Oh! sir, have pity on me! Ifit can be of no use, and he is really dead, do not expose that formto other eyes than mine!'

'This man died no natural or easy death, ' said the surgeon. 'IMUST see the body!' With a motion so sudden, that the woman hardlyknew that he had slipped from beside her, he tore open the curtain, admitted the full light of day, and returned to the bedside. 

'There has been violence here, ' he said, pointing towards the body, and gazing intently on the face, from which the black veil was now, for the first time, removed. In the excitement of a minute before, the female had thrown off the bonnet and veil, and now stood withher eyes fixed upon him. Her features were those of a woman aboutfifty, who had once been handsome. Sorrow and weeping had lefttraces upon them which not time itself would ever have producedwithout their aid; her face was deadly pale; and there was anervous contortion of the lip, and an unnatural fire in her eye, which showed too plainly that her bodily and mental powers hadnearly sunk, beneath an accumulation of misery. 

'There has been violence here, ' said the surgeon, preserving hissearching glance. 

'There has!' replied the woman. 

'This man has been murdered. '

'That I call God to witness he has, ' said the woman, passionately;'pitilessly, inhumanly murdered!'

'By whom?' said the surgeon, seizing the woman by the arm. 

'Look at the butchers' marks, and then ask me!' she replied. 

The surgeon turned his face towards the bed, and bent over the bodywhich now lay full in the light of the window. The throat wasswollen, and a livid mark encircled it. The truth flashed suddenlyupon him. 

'This is one of the men who were hanged this morning!' heexclaimed, turning away with a shudder. 

'It is, ' replied the woman, with a cold, unmeaning stare. 

'Who was he?' inquired the surgeon. 

'MY SON, ' rejoined the woman; and fell senseless at his feet. 

It was true. A companion, equally guilty with himself, had beenacquitted for want of evidence; and this man had been left fordeath, and executed. To recount the circumstances of the case, atthis distant period, must be unnecessary, and might give pain tosome persons still alive. The history was an every-day one. Themother was a widow without friends or money, and had denied herselfnecessaries to bestow them on her orphan boy. That boy, unmindfulof her prayers, and forgetful of the sufferings she had endured forhim--incessant anxiety of mind, and voluntary starvation of body--had plunged into a career of dissipation and crime. And this wasthe result; his own death by the hangman's hands, and his mother'sshame, and incurable insanity. 

For many years after this occurrence, and when profitable andarduous avocations would have led many men to forget that such amiserable being existed, the young surgeon was a daily visitor atthe side of the harmless mad woman; not only soothing her by hispresence and kindness, but alleviating the rigour of her conditionby pecuniary donations for her comfort and support, bestowed withno sparing hand. In the transient gleam of recollection andconsciousness which preceded her death, a prayer for his welfareand protection, as fervent as mortal ever breathed, rose from thelips of this poor friendless creature. That prayer flew to Heaven, and was heard. The blessings he was instrumental in conferring, have been repaid to him a thousand-fold; but, amid all the honoursof rank and station which have since been heaped upon him, andwhich he has so well earned, he can have no reminiscence moregratifying to his heart than that connected with The Black Veil. 

CHAPTER VII--THE STEAM EXCURSION

Mr. Percy Noakes was a law student, inhabiting a set of chambers onthe fourth floor, in one of those houses in Gray's-inn-square whichcommand an extensive view of the gardens, and their usual adjuncts--flaunting nursery-maids, and town-made children, withparenthetical legs. Mr. Percy Noakes was what is generally termed--'a devilish good fellow. ' He had a large circle of acquaintance, and seldom dined at his own expense. He used to talk politics topapas, flatter the vanity of mammas, do the amiable to theirdaughters, make pleasure engagements with their sons, and romp withthe younger branches. Like those paragons of perfection, advertising footmen out of place, he was always 'willing to makehimself generally useful. ' If any old lady, whose son was inIndia, gave a ball, Mr. Percy Noakes was master of the ceremonies;if any young lady made a stolen match, Mr. Percy Noakes gave heraway; if a juvenile wife presented her husband with a bloomingcherub, Mr. Percy Noakes was either godfather, or deputy-godfather;and if any member of a friend's family died, Mr. Percy Noakes wasinvariably to be seen in the second mourning coach, with a whitehandkerchief to his eyes, sobbing--to use his own appropriate andexpressive description--'like winkin'!'

It may readily be imagined that these numerous avocations wererather calculated to interfere with Mr. Percy Noakes's professionalstudies. Mr. Percy Noakes was perfectly aware of the fact, andhad, therefore, after mature reflection, made up his mind not tostudy at all--a laudable determination, to which he adhered in themost praiseworthy manner. His sitting-room presented a strangechaos of dress-gloves, boxing-gloves, caricatures, albums, invitation-cards, foils, cricket-bats, cardboard drawings, paste, gum, and fifty other miscellaneous articles, heaped together in thestrangest confusion. He was always making something for somebody, or planning some party of pleasure, which was his great forte. Heinvariably spoke with astonishing rapidity; was smart, spoffish, and eight-and-twenty. 

'Splendid idea, 'pon my life!' soliloquised Mr. Percy Noakes, overhis morning coffee, as his mind reverted to a suggestion which hadbeen thrown out on the previous night, by a lady at whose house hehad spent the evening. 'Glorious idea!--Mrs. Stubbs. '

'Yes, sir, ' replied a dirty old woman with an inflamed countenance, emerging from the bedroom, with a barrel of dirt and cinders. --Thiswas the laundress. 'Did you call, sir?'

'Oh! Mrs. Stubbs, I'm going out. If that tailor should callagain, you'd better say--you'd better say I'm out of town, andshan't be back for a fortnight; and if that bootmaker should come, tell him I've lost his address, or I'd have sent him that littleamount. Mind he writes it down; and if Mr. Hardy should call--youknow Mr. Hardy?'

'The funny gentleman, sir?'

'Ah! the funny gentleman. If Mr. Hardy should call, say I've goneto Mrs. Taunton's about that water-party. '

'Yes, sir. '

'And if any fellow calls, and says he's come about a steamer, tellhim to be here at five o'clock this afternoon, Mrs. Stubbs. '

'Very well, sir. '

Mr. Percy Noakes brushed his hat, whisked the crumbs off hisinexpressibles with a silk handkerchief, gave the ends of his haira persuasive roll round his forefinger, and sallied forth for Mrs. Taunton's domicile in Great Marlborough-street, where she and herdaughters occupied the upper part of a house. She was a good-looking widow of fifty, with the form of a giantess and the mind ofa child. The pursuit of pleasure, and some means of killing time, were the sole end of her existence. She doted on her daughters, who were as frivolous as herself. 

A general exclamation of satisfaction hailed the arrival of Mr. Percy Noakes, who went through the ordinary salutations, and threwhimself into an easy chair near the ladies' work-table, with theease of a regularly established friend of the family. Mrs. Tauntonwas busily engaged in planting immense bright bows on every part ofa smart cap on which it was possible to stick one; Miss EmilyTaunton was making a watch-guard; Miss Sophia was at the piano, practising a new song--poetry by the young officer, or the police-officer, or the custom-house officer, or some other interestingamateur. 

'You good creature!' said Mrs. Taunton, addressing the gallantPercy. 'You really are a good soul! You've come about the water-party, I know. '

'I should rather suspect I had, ' replied Mr. Noakes, triumphantly. 'Now, come here, girls, and I'll tell you all about it. ' MissEmily and Miss Sophia advanced to the table. 

'Now, ' continued Mr. Percy Noakes, 'it seems to me that the bestway will be, to have a committee of ten, to make all thearrangements, and manage the whole set-out. Then, I propose thatthe expenses shall be paid by these ten fellows jointly. '

'Excellent, indeed!' said Mrs. Taunton, who highly approved of thispart of the arrangements. 

'Then, my plan is, that each of these ten fellows shall have thepower of asking five people. There must be a meeting of thecommittee, at my chambers, to make all the arrangements, and thesepeople shall be then named; every member of the committee shallhave the power of black-balling any one who is proposed; and oneblack ball shall exclude that person. This will ensure our havinga pleasant party, you know. '

'What a manager you are!' interrupted Mrs. Taunton again. 

'Charming!' said the lovely Emily. 

'I never did!' ejaculated Sophia. 

'Yes, I think it'll do, ' replied Mr. Percy Noakes, who was nowquite in his element. 'I think it'll do. Then you know we shallgo down to the Nore, and back, and have a regular capital colddinner laid out in the cabin before we start, so that everythingmay be ready without any confusion; and we shall have the lunchlaid out, on deck, in those little tea-garden-looking concerns bythe paddle-boxes--I don't know what you call 'em. Then, we shallhire a steamer expressly for our party, and a band, and have thedeck chalked, and we shall be able to dance quadrilles all day; andthen, whoever we know that's musical, you know, why they'll makethemselves useful and agreeable; and--and--upon the whole, I reallyhope we shall have a glorious day, you know!'

The announcement of these arrangements was received with the utmostenthusiasm. Mrs. Taunton, Emily, and Sophia, were loud in theirpraises. 

'Well, but tell me, Percy, ' said Mrs. Taunton, 'who are the tengentlemen to be?'

'Oh! I know plenty of fellows who'll be delighted with thescheme, ' replied Mr. Percy Noakes; 'of course we shall have--'

'Mr. Hardy!' interrupted the servant, announcing a visitor. MissSophia and Miss Emily hastily assumed the most interestingattitudes that could be adopted on so short a notice. 

'How are you?' said a stout gentleman of about forty, pausing atthe door in the attitude of an awkward harlequin. This was Mr. Hardy, whom we have before described, on the authority of Mrs. Stubbs, as 'the funny gentleman. ' He was an Astley-Cooperish JoeMiller--a practical joker, immensely popular with married ladies, and a general favourite with young men. He was always engaged insome pleasure excursion or other, and delighted in getting somebodyinto a scrape on such occasions. He could sing comic songs, imitate hackney-coachmen and fowls, play airs on his chin, andexecute concertos on the Jews'-harp. He always eat and drank mostimmoderately, and was the bosom friend of Mr. Percy Noakes. He hada red face, a somewhat husky voice, and a tremendous laugh. 

'How ARE you?' said this worthy, laughing, as if it were the finestjoke in the world to make a morning call, and shaking hands withthe ladies with as much vehemence as if their arms had been so manypump-handles. 

'You're just the very man I wanted, ' said Mr. Percy Noakes, whoproceeded to explain the cause of his being in requisition. 

'Ha! ha! ha!' shouted Hardy, after hearing the statement, andreceiving a detailed account of the proposed excursion. 'Oh, capital! glorious! What a day it will be! what fun!--But, I say, when are you going to begin making the arrangements?'

'No time like the present--at once, if you please. '

'Oh, charming!' cried the ladies. 'Pray, do!'

Writing materials were laid before Mr. Percy Noakes, and the namesof the different members of the committee were agreed on, after asmuch discussion between him and Mr. Hardy as if the fate of nationshad depended on their appointment. It was then agreed that ameeting should take place at Mr. Percy Noakes's chambers on theensuing Wednesday evening at eight o'clock, and the visitorsdeparted. 

Wednesday evening arrived; eight o'clock came, and eight members ofthe committee were punctual in their attendance. Mr. Loggins, thesolicitor, of Boswell-court, sent an excuse, and Mr. Samuel Briggs, the ditto of Furnival's Inn, sent his brother: much to his (thebrother's) satisfaction, and greatly to the discomfiture of Mr. Percy Noakes. Between the Briggses and the Tauntons there existeda degree of implacable hatred, quite unprecedented. The animositybetween the Montagues and Capulets, was nothing to that whichprevailed between these two illustrious houses. Mrs. Briggs was awidow, with three daughters and two sons; Mr. Samuel, the eldest, was an attorney, and Mr. Alexander, the youngest, was underarticles to his brother. They resided in Portland-street, Oxford-street, and moved in the same orbit as the Tauntons--hence theirmutual dislike. If the Miss Briggses appeared in smart bonnets, the Miss Tauntons eclipsed them with smarter. If Mrs. Tauntonappeared in a cap of all the hues of the rainbow, Mrs. Briggsforthwith mounted a toque, with all the patterns of thekaleidoscope. If Miss Sophia Taunton learnt a new song, two of theMiss Briggses came out with a new duet. The Tauntons had oncegained a temporary triumph with the assistance of a harp, but theBriggses brought three guitars into the field, and effectuallyrouted the enemy. There was no end to the rivalry between them. 

Now, as Mr. Samuel Briggs was a mere machine, a sort of self-actinglegal walking-stick; and as the party was known to have originated, however remotely, with Mrs. Taunton, the female branches of theBriggs family had arranged that Mr. Alexander should attend, instead of his brother; and as the said Mr. Alexander wasdeservedly celebrated for possessing all the pertinacity of abankruptcy-court attorney, combined with the obstinacy of thatuseful animal which browses on the thistle, he required but littletuition. He was especially enjoined to make himself asdisagreeable as possible; and, above all, to black-ball theTauntons at every hazard. 

The proceedings of the evening were opened by Mr. Percy Noakes. After successfully urging on the gentlemen present the propriety oftheir mixing some brandy-and-water, he briefly stated the object ofthe meeting, and concluded by observing that the first step must bethe selection of a chairman, necessarily possessing some arbitrary--he trusted not unconstitutional--powers, to whom the personaldirection of the whole of the arrangements (subject to the approvalof the committee) should be confided. A pale young gentleman, in agreen stock and spectacles of the same, a member of the honourablesociety of the Inner Temple, immediately rose for the purpose ofproposing Mr. Percy Noakes. He had known him long, and this hewould say, that a more honourable, a more excellent, or a better-hearted fellow, never existed. --(Hear, hear!) The young gentleman, who was a member of a debating society, took this opportunity ofentering into an examination of the state of the English law, fromthe days of William the Conqueror down to the present period; hebriefly adverted to the code established by the ancient Druids;slightly glanced at the principles laid down by the Athenian law-givers; and concluded with a most glowing eulogium on pic-nics andconstitutional rights. 

Mr. Alexander Briggs opposed the motion. He had the highest esteemfor Mr. Percy Noakes as an individual, but he did consider that heought not to be intrusted with these immense powers--(oh, oh!)--Hebelieved that in the proposed capacity Mr. Percy Noakes would notact fairly, impartially, or honourably; but he begged it to bedistinctly understood, that he said this, without the slightestpersonal disrespect. Mr. Hardy defended his honourable friend, ina voice rendered partially unintelligible by emotion and brandy-and-water. The proposition was put to the vote, and thereappearing to be only one dissentient voice, Mr. Percy Noakes wasdeclared duly elected, and took the chair accordingly. 

The business of the meeting now proceeded with rapidity. Thechairman delivered in his estimate of the probable expense of theexcursion, and every one present subscribed his portion thereof. The question was put that 'The Endeavour' be hired for theoccasion; Mr. Alexander Briggs moved as an amendment, that the word'Fly' be substituted for the word 'Endeavour'; but after somedebate consented to withdraw his opposition. The importantceremony of balloting then commenced. A tea-caddy was placed on atable in a dark corner of the apartment, and every one was providedwith two backgammon men, one black and one white. 

The chairman with great solemnity then read the following list ofthe guests whom he proposed to introduce:- Mrs. Taunton and twodaughters, Mr. Wizzle, Mr. Simson. The names were respectivelyballoted for, and Mrs. Taunton and her daughters were declared tobe black-balled. Mr. Percy Noakes and Mr. Hardy exchanged glances. 

'Is your list prepared, Mr. Briggs?' inquired the chairman. 

'It is, ' replied Alexander, delivering in the following:- 'Mrs. Briggs and three daughters, Mr. Samuel Briggs. ' The previousceremony was repeated, and Mrs. Briggs and three daughters weredeclared to be black-balled. Mr. Alexander Briggs looked ratherfoolish, and the remainder of the company appeared somewhatoverawed by the mysterious nature of the proceedings. 

The balloting proceeded; but, one little circumstance which Mr. Percy Noakes had not originally foreseen, prevented the system fromworking quite as well as he had anticipated. Everybody was black-balled. Mr. Alexander Briggs, by way of retaliation, exercised hispower of exclusion in every instance, and the result was, thatafter three hours had been consumed in hard balloting, the names ofonly three gentlemen were found to have been agreed to. In thisdilemma what was to be done? either the whole plan must fall to theground, or a compromise must be effected. The latter alternativewas preferable; and Mr. Percy Noakes therefore proposed that theform of balloting should be dispensed with, and that everygentleman should merely be required to state whom he intended tobring. The proposal was acceded to; the Tauntons and the Briggseswere reinstated; and the party was formed. 

The next Wednesday was fixed for the eventful day, and it wasunanimously resolved that every member of the committee should weara piece of blue sarsenet ribbon round his left arm. It appearedfrom the statement of Mr. Percy Noakes, that the boat belonged tothe General Steam Navigation Company, and was then lying off theCustom-house; and, as he proposed that the dinner and wines shouldbe provided by an eminent city purveyor, it was arranged that Mr. Percy Noakes should be on board by seven o'clock to superintend thearrangements, and that the remaining members of the committee, together with the company generally, should be expected to join herby nine o'clock. More brandy-and-water was despatched; severalspeeches were made by the different law students present; thankswere voted to the chairman; and the meeting separated. 

The weather had been beautiful up to this period, and beautiful itcontinued to be. Sunday passed over, and Mr. Percy Noakes becameunusually fidgety--rushing, constantly, to and from the SteamPacket Wharf, to the astonishment of the clerks, and the greatemolument of the Holborn cabmen. Tuesday arrived, and the anxietyof Mr. Percy Noakes knew no bounds. He was every instant runningto the window, to look out for clouds; and Mr. Hardy astonished thewhole square by practising a new comic song for the occasion, inthe chairman's chambers. 

Uneasy were the slumbers of Mr. Percy Noakes that night; he tossedand tumbled about, and had confused dreams of steamers startingoff, and gigantic clocks with the hands pointing to a quarter-pastnine, and the ugly face of Mr. Alexander Briggs looking over theboat's side, and grinning, as if in derision of his fruitlessattempts to move. He made a violent effort to get on board, andawoke. The bright sun was shining cheerfully into the bedroom, andMr. Percy Noakes started up for his watch, in the dreadfulexpectation of finding his worst dreams realised. 

It was just five o'clock. He calculated the time--he should be agood half-hour dressing himself; and as it was a lovely morning, and the tide would be then running down, he would walk leisurely toStrand-lane, and have a boat to the Custom-house. 

He dressed himself, took a hasty apology for a breakfast, andsallied forth. The streets looked as lonely and deserted as ifthey had been crowded, overnight, for the last time. Here andthere, an early apprentice, with quenched-looking sleepy eyes, wastaking down the shutters of a shop; and a policeman or milkwomanmight occasionally be seen pacing slowly along; but the servantshad not yet begun to clean the doors, or light the kitchen fires, and London looked the picture of desolation. At the corner of aby-street, near Temple-bar, was stationed a 'street-breakfast. 'The coffee was boiling over a charcoal fire, and large slices ofbread and butter were piled one upon the other, like deals in atimber-yard. The company were seated on a form, which, with a viewboth to security and comfort, was placed against a neighbouringwall. Two young men, whose uproarious mirth and disordered dressbespoke the conviviality of the preceding evening, were treatingthree 'ladies' and an Irish labourer. A little sweep was standingat a short distance, casting a longing eye at the temptingdelicacies; and a policeman was watching the group from theopposite side of the street. The wan looks and gaudy finery of thethinly-clad women contrasted as strangely with the gay sunlight, asdid their forced merriment with the boisterous hilarity of the twoyoung men, who, now and then, varied their amusements by'bonneting' the proprietor of this itinerant coffee-house. 

Mr. Percy Noakes walked briskly by, and when he turned down Strand-lane, and caught a glimpse of the glistening water, he thought hehad never felt so important or so happy in his life. 

'Boat, sir?' cried one of the three watermen who were mopping outtheir boats, and all whistling. 'Boat, sir?'

'No, ' replied Mr. Percy Noakes, rather sharply; for the inquiry wasnot made in a manner at all suitable to his dignity. 

'Would you prefer a wessel, sir?' inquired another, to the infinitedelight of the 'Jack-in-the-water. '

Mr. Percy Noakes replied with a look of supreme contempt. 

'Did you want to be put on board a steamer, sir?' inquired an oldfireman-waterman, very confidentially. He was dressed in a fadedred suit, just the colour of the cover of a very old Court-guide. 

'Yes, make haste--the Endeavour--off the Custom-house. '

'Endeavour!' cried the man who had convulsed the 'Jack' before. 'Vy, I see the Endeavour go up half an hour ago. '

'So did I, ' said another; 'and I should think she'd gone down bythis time, for she's a precious sight too full of ladies andgen'lemen. '

Mr. Percy Noakes affected to disregard these representations, andstepped into the boat, which the old man, by dint of scrambling, and shoving, and grating, had brought up to the causeway. 'Shoveher off!' cried Mr. Percy Noakes, and away the boat glided down theriver; Mr. Percy Noakes seated on the recently mopped seat, and thewatermen at the stairs offering to bet him any reasonable sum thathe'd never reach the 'Custum-us. '

'Here she is, by Jove!' said the delighted Percy, as they ranalongside the Endeavour. 

'Hold hard!' cried the steward over the side, and Mr. Percy Noakesjumped on board. 

'Hope you will find everything as you wished, sir. She looksuncommon well this morning. '

'She does, indeed, ' replied the manager, in a state of ecstasywhich it is impossible to describe. The deck was scrubbed, and theseats were scrubbed, and there was a bench for the band, and aplace for dancing, and a pile of camp-stools, and an awning; andthen Mr. Percy Noakes bustled down below, and there were thepastrycook's men, and the steward's wife, laying out the dinner ontwo tables the whole length of the cabin; and then Mr. Percy Noakestook off his coat and rushed backwards and forwards, doing nothing, but quite convinced he was assisting everybody; and the steward'swife laughed till she cried, and Mr. Percy Noakes panted with theviolence of his exertions. And then the bell at London-bridgewharf rang; and a Margate boat was just starting; and a Gravesendboat was just starting, and people shouted, and porters ran downthe steps with luggage that would crush any men but porters; andsloping boards, with bits of wood nailed on them, were placedbetween the outside boat and the inside boat; and the passengersran along them, and looked like so many fowls coming out of anarea; and then, the bell ceased, and the boards were taken away, and the boats started, and the whole scene was one of the mostdelightful bustle and confusion. 

The time wore on; half-past eight o'clock arrived; the pastry-cook's men went ashore; the dinner was completely laid out; and Mr. Percy Noakes locked the principal cabin, and put the key in hispocket, in order that it might be suddenly disclosed, in all itsmagnificence, to the eyes of the astonished company. The band cameon board, and so did the wine. 

Ten minutes to nine, and the committee embarked in a body. Therewas Mr. Hardy, in a blue jacket and waistcoat, white trousers, silkstockings, and pumps--in full aquatic costume, with a straw hat onhis head, and an immense telescope under his arm; and there was theyoung gentleman with the green spectacles, in nankeeninexplicables, with a ditto waistcoat and bright buttons, like thepictures of Paul--not the saint, but he of Virginia notoriety. Theremainder of the committee, dressed in white hats, light jackets, waistcoats, and trousers, looked something between waiters and WestIndia planters. 

Nine o'clock struck, and the company arrived in shoals. Mr. SamuelBriggs, Mrs. Briggs, and the Misses Briggs, made their appearancein a smart private wherry. The three guitars, in their respectivedark green cases, were carefully stowed away in the bottom of theboat, accompanied by two immense portfolios of music, which itwould take at least a week's incessant playing to get through. TheTauntons arrived at the same moment with more music, and a lion--agentleman with a bass voice and an incipient red moustache. Thecolours of the Taunton party were pink; those of the Briggses alight blue. The Tauntons had artificial flowers in their bonnets;here the Briggses gained a decided advantage--they wore feathers. 

'How d'ye do, dear?' said the Misses Briggs to the Misses Taunton. (The word 'dear' among girls is frequently synonymous with'wretch. ')

'Quite well, thank you, dear, ' replied the Misses Taunton to theMisses Briggs; and then, there was such a kissing, andcongratulating, and shaking of hands, as might have induced one tosuppose that the two families were the best friends in the world, instead of each wishing the other overboard, as they most sincerelydid. 

Mr. Percy Noakes received the visitors, and bowed to the strangegentleman, as if he should like to know who he was. This was justwhat Mrs. Taunton wanted. Here was an opportunity to astonish theBriggses. 

'Oh! I beg your pardon, ' said the general of the Taunton party, with a careless air. --'Captain Helves--Mr. Percy Noakes--Mrs. Briggs--Captain Helves. '

Mr. Percy Noakes bowed very low; the gallant captain did the samewith all due ferocity, and the Briggses were clearly overcome. 

'Our friend, Mr. Wizzle, being unfortunately prevented fromcoming, ' resumed Mrs. Taunton, 'I did myself the pleasure ofbringing the captain, whose musical talents I knew would be a greatacquisition. '

'In the name of the committee I have to thank you for doing so, andto offer you welcome, sir, ' replied Percy. (Here the scraping wasrenewed. ) 'But pray be seated--won't you walk aft? Captain, willyou conduct Miss Taunton?--Miss Briggs, will you allow me?'

'Where could they have picked up that military man?' inquired Mrs. Briggs of Miss Kate Briggs, as they followed the little party. 

'I can't imagine, ' replied Miss Kate, bursting with vexation; forthe very fierce air with which the gallant captain regarded thecompany, had impressed her with a high sense of his importance. 

Boat after boat came alongside, and guest after guest arrived. Theinvites had been excellently arranged: Mr. Percy Noakes havingconsidered it as important that the number of young men shouldexactly tally with that of the young ladies, as that the quantityof knives on board should be in precise proportion to the forks. 

'Now, is every one on board?' inquired Mr. Percy Noakes. Thecommittee (who, with their bits of blue ribbon, looked as if theywere all going to be bled) bustled about to ascertain the fact, andreported that they might safely start. 

'Go on!' cried the master of the boat from the top of one of thepaddle-boxes. 

'Go on!' echoed the boy, who was stationed over the hatchway topass the directions down to the engineer; and away went the vesselwith that agreeable noise which is peculiar to steamers, and whichis composed of a mixture of creaking, gushing, clanging, andsnorting. 

'Hoi-oi-oi-oi-oi-oi-o-i-i-i!' shouted half-a-dozen voices from aboat, a quarter of a mile astern. 

'Ease her!' cried the captain: 'do these people belong to us, sir?'

'Noakes, ' exclaimed Hardy, who had been looking at every object farand near, through the large telescope, 'it's the Fleetwoods and theWakefields--and two children with them, by Jove!'

'What a shame to bring children!' said everybody; 'how veryinconsiderate!'

'I say, it would be a good joke to pretend not to see 'em, wouldn'tit?' suggested Hardy, to the immense delight of the companygenerally. A council of war was hastily held, and it was resolvedthat the newcomers should be taken on board, on Mr. Hardy solemnlypledging himself to tease the children during the whole of the day. 

'Stop her!' cried the captain. 

'Stop her!' repeated the boy; whizz went the steam, and all theyoung ladies, as in duty bound, screamed in concert. They wereonly appeased by the assurance of the martial Helves, that theescape of steam consequent on stopping a vessel was seldom attendedwith any great loss of human life. 

Two men ran to the side; and after some shouting, and swearing, andangling for the wherry with a boat-hook, Mr. Fleetwood, and Mrs. Fleetwood, and Master Fleetwood, and Mr. Wakefield, and Mrs. Wakefield, and Miss Wakefield, were safely deposited on the deck. The girl was about six years old, the boy about four; the formerwas dressed in a white frock with a pink sash and dog's-eared-looking little spencer: a straw bonnet and green veil, six inchesby three and a half; the latter, was attired for the occasion in anankeen frock, between the bottom of which, and the top of hisplaid socks, a considerable portion of two small mottled legs wasdiscernible. He had a light blue cap with a gold band and tasselon his head, and a damp piece of gingerbread in his hand, withwhich he had slightly embossed his countenance. 

The boat once more started off; the band played 'Off she goes:' themajor part of the company conversed cheerfully in groups; and theold gentlemen walked up and down the deck in pairs, asperseveringly and gravely as if they were doing a match againsttime for an immense stake. They ran briskly down the Pool; thegentlemen pointed out the Docks, the Thames Police-office, andother elegant public edifices; and the young ladies exhibited aproper display of horror at the appearance of the coal-whippers andballast-heavers. Mr. Hardy told stories to the married ladies, atwhich they laughed very much in their pocket-handkerchiefs, and hithim on the knuckles with their fans, declaring him to be 'a naughtyman--a shocking creature'--and so forth; and Captain Helves gaveslight descriptions of battles and duels, with a most bloodthirstyair, which made him the admiration of the women, and the envy ofthe men. Quadrilling commenced; Captain Helves danced one set withMiss Emily Taunton, and another set with Miss Sophia Taunton. Mrs. Taunton was in ecstasies. The victory appeared to be complete; butalas! the inconstancy of man! Having performed this necessaryduty, he attached himself solely to Miss Julia Briggs, with whom hedanced no less than three sets consecutively, and from whose sidehe evinced no intention of stirring for the remainder of the day. 

Mr. Hardy, having played one or two very brilliant fantasias on theJews'-harp, and having frequently repeated the exquisitely amusingjoke of slily chalking a large cross on the back of some member ofthe committee, Mr. Percy Noakes expressed his hope that some oftheir musical friends would oblige the company by a display oftheir abilities. 

'Perhaps, ' he said in a very insinuating manner, 'Captain Helveswill oblige us?' Mrs. Taunton's countenance lighted up, for thecaptain only sang duets, and couldn't sing them with anybody butone of her daughters. 

'Really, ' said that warlike individual, 'I should be very happy, 'but--'

'Oh! pray do, ' cried all the young ladies. 

'Miss Emily, have you any objection to join in a duet?'

'Oh! not the slightest, ' returned the young lady, in a tone whichclearly showed she had the greatest possible objection. 

'Shall I accompany you, dear?' inquired one of the Miss Briggses, with the bland intention of spoiling the effect. 

'Very much obliged to you, Miss Briggs, ' sharply retorted Mrs. Taunton, who saw through the manoeuvre; 'my daughters always singwithout accompaniments. '

'And without voices, ' tittered Mrs. Briggs, in a low tone. 

'Perhaps, ' said Mrs. Taunton, reddening, for she guessed the tenorof the observation, though she had not heard it clearly--'Perhapsit would be as well for some people, if their voices were not quiteso audible as they are to other people. '

'And, perhaps, if gentlemen who are kidnapped to pay attention tosome persons' daughters, had not sufficient discernment to payattention to other persons' daughters, ' returned Mrs. Briggs, 'somepersons would not be so ready to display that ill-temper which, thank God, distinguishes them from other persons. '

'Persons!' ejaculated Mrs. Taunton. 

'Persons, ' replied Mrs. Briggs. 

'Insolence!'

'Creature!'

'Hush! hush!' interrupted Mr. Percy Noakes, who was one of the veryfew by whom this dialogue had been overheard. 'Hush!--pray, silence for the duet. '

After a great deal of preparatory crowing and humming, the captainbegan the following duet from the opera of 'Paul and Virginia, ' inthat grunting tone in which a man gets down, Heaven knows where, without the remotest chance of ever getting up again. This, inprivate circles, is frequently designated 'a bass voice. '

'See (sung the captain) from o-ce-an ri-singBright flames the or-b of d-ay. From yon gro-ove, the varied so-ongs--'

Here, the singer was interrupted by varied cries of the mostdreadful description, proceeding from some grove in the immediatevicinity of the starboard paddle-box. 

'My child!' screamed Mrs. Fleetwood. 'My child! it is his voice--Iknow it. '

Mr. Fleetwood, accompanied by several gentlemen, here rushed to thequarter from whence the noise proceeded, and an exclamation ofhorror burst from the company; the general impression being, thatthe little innocent had either got his head in the water, or hislegs in the machinery. 

'What is the matter?' shouted the agonised father, as he returnedwith the child in his arms. 

'Oh! oh! oh!' screamed the small sufferer again. 

'What is the matter, dear?' inquired the father once more--hastilystripping off the nankeen frock, for the purpose of ascertainingwhether the child had one bone which was not smashed to pieces. 

'Oh! oh!--I'm so frightened!'

'What at, dear?--what at?' said the mother, soothing the sweetinfant. 

'Oh! he's been making such dreadful faces at me, ' cried the boy, relapsing into convulsions at the bare recollection. 

'He!--who?' cried everybody, crowding round him. 

'Oh!--him!' replied the child, pointing at Hardy, who affected tobe the most concerned of the whole group. 

The real state of the case at once flashed upon the minds of allpresent, with the exception of the Fleetwoods and the Wakefields. The facetious Hardy, in fulfilment of his promise, had watched thechild to a remote part of the vessel, and, suddenly appearingbefore him with the most awful contortions of visage, had producedhis paroxysm of terror. Of course, he now observed that it washardly necessary for him to deny the accusation; and theunfortunate little victim was accordingly led below, afterreceiving sundry thumps on the head from both his parents, forhaving the wickedness to tell a story. 

This little interruption having been adjusted, the captain resumed, and Miss Emily chimed in, in due course. The duet was loudlyapplauded, and, certainly, the perfect independence of the partiesdeserved great commendation. Miss Emily sung her part, without theslightest reference to the captain; and the captain sang so loud, that he had not the slightest idea what was being done by hispartner. After having gone through the last few eighteen ornineteen bars by himself, therefore, he acknowledged the plauditsof the circle with that air of self-denial which men usually assumewhen they think they have done something to astonish the company. 

'Now, ' said Mr. Percy Noakes, who had just ascended from the fore-cabin, where he had been busily engaged in decanting the wine, 'ifthe Misses Briggs will oblige us with something before dinner, I amsure we shall be very much delighted. '

One of those hums of admiration followed the suggestion, which onefrequently hears in society, when nobody has the most distantnotion what he is expressing his approval of. The three MissesBriggs looked modestly at their mamma, and the mamma lookedapprovingly at her daughters, and Mrs. Taunton looked scornfully atall of them. The Misses Briggs asked for their guitars, andseveral gentlemen seriously damaged the cases in their anxiety topresent them. Then, there was a very interesting production ofthree little keys for the aforesaid cases, and a melodramaticexpression of horror at finding a string broken; and a vast deal ofscrewing and tightening, and winding, and tuning, during which Mrs. Briggs expatiated to those near her on the immense difficulty ofplaying a guitar, and hinted at the wondrous proficiency of herdaughters in that mystic art. Mrs. Taunton whispered to aneighbour that it was 'quite sickening!' and the Misses Tauntonlooked as if they knew how to play, but disdained to do it. 

At length, the Misses Briggs began in real earnest. It was a newSpanish composition, for three voices and three guitars. Theeffect was electrical. All eyes were turned upon the captain, whowas reported to have once passed through Spain with his regiment, and who must be well acquainted with the national music. He was inraptures. This was sufficient; the trio was encored; the applausewas universal; and never had the Tauntons suffered such a completedefeat. 

'Bravo! bravo!' ejaculated the captain;--'bravo!'

'Pretty! isn't it, sir?' inquired Mr. Samuel Briggs, with the airof a self-satisfied showman. By-the-bye, these were the firstwords he had been heard to utter since he left Boswell-court theevening before. 

'De-lightful!' returned the captain, with a flourish, and amilitary cough;--'de-lightful!'

'Sweet instrument!' said an old gentleman with a bald head, who hadbeen trying all the morning to look through a telescope, inside theglass of which Mr. Hardy had fixed a large black wafer. 

'Did you ever hear a Portuguese tambourine?' inquired that jocularindividual. 

'Did YOU ever hear a tom-tom, sir?' sternly inquired the captain, who lost no opportunity of showing off his travels, real orpretended. 

'A what?' asked Hardy, rather taken aback. 

'A tom-tom. '

'Never!'

'Nor a gum-gum?'

'Never!'

'What IS a gum-gum?' eagerly inquired several young ladies. 

'When I was in the East Indies, ' replied the captain--(here was adiscovery--he had been in the East Indies!)--'when I was in theEast Indies, I was once stopping a few thousand miles up thecountry, on a visit at the house of a very particular friend ofmine, Ram Chowdar Doss Azuph Al Bowlar--a devilish pleasant fellow. As we were enjoying our hookahs, one evening, in the cool verandahin front of his villa, we were rather surprised by the suddenappearance of thirty-four of his Kit-ma-gars (for he had rather alarge establishment there), accompanied by an equal number of Con-su-mars, approaching the house with a threatening aspect, andbeating a tom-tom. The Ram started up--'

'Who?' inquired the bald gentleman, intensely interested. 

'The Ram--Ram Chowdar--'

'Oh!' said the old gentleman, 'beg your pardon; pray go on. '

'--Started up and drew a pistol. "Helves, " said he, "my boy, "--healways called me, my boy--"Helves, " said he, "do you hear that tom-tom?" "I do, " said I. His countenance, which before was pale, assumed a most frightful appearance; his whole visage wasdistorted, and his frame shaken by violent emotions. "Do you seethat gum-gum?" said he. "No, " said I, staring about me. "Youdon't?" said he. "No, I'll be damned if I do, " said I; "and what'smore, I don't know what a gum-gum is, " said I. I really thoughtthe Ram would have dropped. He drew me aside, and with anexpression of agony I shall never forget, said in a low whisper--'

'Dinner's on the table, ladies, ' interrupted the steward's wife. 

'Will you allow me?' said the captain, immediately suiting theaction to the word, and escorting Miss Julia Briggs to the cabin, with as much ease as if he had finished the story. 

'What an extraordinary circumstance!' ejaculated the same oldgentleman, preserving his listening attitude. 

'What a traveller!' said the young ladies. 

'What a singular name!' exclaimed the gentlemen, rather confused bythe coolness of the whole affair. 

'I wish he had finished the story, ' said an old lady. 'I wonderwhat a gum-gum really is?'

'By Jove!' exclaimed Hardy, who until now had been lost in utteramazement, 'I don't know what it may be in India, but in England Ithink a gum-gum has very much the same meaning as a hum-bug. '

'How illiberal! how envious!' cried everybody, as they made for thecabin, fully impressed with a belief in the captain's amazingadventures. Helves was the sole lion for the remainder of the day--impudence and the marvellous are pretty sure passports to anysociety. 

The party had by this time reached their destination, and put abouton their return home. The wind, which had been with them the wholeday, was now directly in their teeth; the weather had becomegradually more and more overcast; and the sky, water, and shore, were all of that dull, heavy, uniform lead-colour, which house-painters daub in the first instance over a street-door which isgradually approaching a state of convalescence. It had been'spitting' with rain for the last half-hour, and now began to pourin good earnest. The wind was freshening very fast, and thewaterman at the wheel had unequivocally expressed his opinion thatthere would shortly be a squall. A slight emotion on the part ofthe vessel, now and then, seemed to suggest the possibility of itspitching to a very uncomfortable extent in the event of its blowingharder; and every timber began to creak, as if the boat were anoverladen clothes-basket. Sea-sickness, however, is like a beliefin ghosts--every one entertains some misgivings on the subject, butfew will acknowledge any. The majority of the company, therefore, endeavoured to look peculiarly happy, feeling all the whileespecially miserable. 

'Don't it rain?' inquired the old gentleman before noticed, when, by dint of squeezing and jamming, they were all seated at table. 

'I think it does--a little, ' replied Mr. Percy Noakes, who couldhardly hear himself speak, in consequence of the pattering on thedeck. 

'Don't it blow?' inquired some one else. 

'No, I don't think it does, ' responded Hardy, sincerely wishingthat he could persuade himself that it did not; for he sat near thedoor, and was almost blown off his seat. 

'It'll soon clear up, ' said Mr. Percy Noakes, in a cheerful tone. 

'Oh, certainly!' ejaculated the committee generally. 

'No doubt of it!' said the remainder of the company, whoseattention was now pretty well engrossed by the serious business ofeating, carving, taking wine, and so forth. 

The throbbing motion of the engine was but too perceptible. Therewas a large, substantial, cold boiled leg of mutton, at the bottomof the table, shaking like blancmange; a previously hearty sirloinof beef looked as if it had been suddenly seized with the palsy;and some tongues, which were placed on dishes rather too large forthem, went through the most surprising evolutions; darting fromside to side, and from end to end, like a fly in an inverted wine-glass. Then, the sweets shook and trembled, till it was quiteimpossible to help them, and people gave up the attempt in despair;and the pigeon-pies looked as if the birds, whose legs were stuckoutside, were trying to get them in. The table vibrated andstarted like a feverish pulse, and the very legs were convulsed--everything was shaking and jarring. The beams in the roof of thecabin seemed as if they were put there for the sole purpose ofgiving people head-aches, and several elderly gentlemen became ill-tempered in consequence. As fast as the steward put the fire-ironsup, they WOULD fall down again; and the more the ladies andgentlemen tried to sit comfortably on their seats, the more theseats seemed to slide away from the ladies and gentlemen. Severalominous demands were made for small glasses of brandy; thecountenances of the company gradually underwent most extraordinarychanges; one gentleman was observed suddenly to rush from tablewithout the slightest ostensible reason, and dart up the steps withincredible swiftness: thereby greatly damaging both himself andthe steward, who happened to be coming down at the same moment. 

The cloth was removed; the dessert was laid on the table; and theglasses were filled. The motion of the boat increased; severalmembers of the party began to feel rather vague and misty, andlooked as if they had only just got up. The young gentleman withthe spectacles, who had been in a fluctuating state for some time--at one moment bright, and at another dismal, like a revolving lighton the sea-coast--rashly announced his wish to propose a toast. After several ineffectual attempts to preserve his perpendicular, the young gentleman, having managed to hook himself to the centreleg of the table with his left hand, proceeded as follows:

'Ladies and gentlemen. A gentleman is among us--I may say astranger--(here some painful thought seemed to strike the orator;he paused, and looked extremely odd)--whose talents, whose travels, whose cheerfulness--'

'I beg your pardon, Edkins, ' hastily interrupted Mr. Percy Noakes, --'Hardy, what's the matter?'

'Nothing, ' replied the 'funny gentleman, ' who had just life enoughleft to utter two consecutive syllables. 

'Will you have some brandy?'

'No!' replied Hardy in a tone of great indignation, and looking ascomfortable as Temple-bar in a Scotch mist; 'what should I wantbrandy for?'

'Will you go on deck?'

'No, I will NOT. ' This was said with a most determined air, and ina voice which might have been taken for an imitation of anything;it was quite as much like a guinea-pig as a bassoon. 

'I beg your pardon, Edkins, ' said the courteous Percy; 'I thoughtour friend was ill. Pray go on. '

A pause. 

'Pray go on. '

'Mr. Edkins IS gone, ' cried somebody. 

'I beg your pardon, sir, ' said the steward, running up to Mr. PercyNoakes, 'I beg your pardon, sir, but the gentleman as just went ondeck--him with the green spectacles--is uncommon bad, to be sure;and the young man as played the wiolin says, that unless he hassome brandy he can't answer for the consequences. He says he has awife and two children, whose werry subsistence depends on hisbreaking a wessel, and he expects to do so every moment. Theflageolet's been werry ill, but he's better, only he's in adreadful prusperation. '

All disguise was now useless; the company staggered on deck; thegentlemen tried to see nothing but the clouds; and the ladies, muffled up in such shawls and cloaks as they had brought with them, lay about on the seats, and under the seats, in the most wretchedcondition. Never was such a blowing, and raining, and pitching, and tossing, endured by any pleasure party before. Severalremonstrances were sent down below, on the subject of MasterFleetwood, but they were totally unheeded in consequence of theindisposition of his natural protectors. That interesting childscreamed at the top of his voice, until he had no voice left toscream with; and then, Miss Wakefield began, and screamed for theremainder of the passage. 

Mr. Hardy was observed, some hours afterwards, in an attitude whichinduced his friends to suppose that he was busily engaged incontemplating the beauties of the deep; they only regretted thathis taste for the picturesque should lead him to remain so long ina position, very injurious at all times, but especially so, to anindividual labouring under a tendency of blood to the head. 

The party arrived off the Custom-house at about two o'clock on theThursday morning dispirited and worn out. The Tauntons were tooill to quarrel with the Briggses, and the Briggses were toowretched to annoy the Tauntons. One of the guitar-cases was loston its passage to a hackney-coach, and Mrs. Briggs has not scrupledto state that the Tauntons bribed a porter to throw it down anarea. Mr. Alexander Briggs opposes vote by ballot--he says frompersonal experience of its inefficacy; and Mr. Samuel Briggs, whenever he is asked to express his sentiments on the point, sayshe has no opinion on that or any other subject. 

Mr. Edkins--the young gentleman in the green spectacles--makes aspeech on every occasion on which a speech can possibly be made:the eloquence of which can only be equalled by its length. In theevent of his not being previously appointed to a judgeship, it isprobable that he will practise as a barrister in the New CentralCriminal Court. 

Captain Helves continued his attention to Miss Julia Briggs, whomhe might possibly have espoused, if it had not unfortunatelyhappened that Mr. Samuel arrested him, in the way of business, pursuant to instructions received from Messrs. Scroggins andPayne, whose town-debts the gallant captain had condescended tocollect, but whose accounts, with the indiscretion sometimespeculiar to military minds, he had omitted to keep with that dullaccuracy which custom has rendered necessary. Mrs. Tauntoncomplains that she has been much deceived in him. He introducedhimself to the family on board a Gravesend steam-packet, andcertainly, therefore, ought to have proved respectable. 

Mr. Percy Noakes is as light-hearted and careless as ever. 

CHAPTER VIII--THE GREAT WINGLEBURY DUEL

The little town of Great Winglebury is exactly forty-two miles andthree-quarters from Hyde Park corner. It has a long, straggling, quiet High-street, with a great black and white clock at a smallred Town-hall, half-way up--a market-place--a cage--an assembly-room--a church--a bridge--a chapel--a theatre--a library--an inn--apump--and a Post-office. Tradition tells of a 'Little Winglebury, 'down some cross-road about two miles off; and, as a square mass ofdirty paper, supposed to have been originally intended for aletter, with certain tremulous characters inscribed thereon, inwhich a lively imagination might trace a remote resemblance to theword 'Little, ' was once stuck up to be owned in the sunny window ofthe Great Winglebury Post-office, from which it only disappearedwhen it fell to pieces with dust and extreme old age, there wouldappear to be some foundation for the legend. Common belief isinclined to bestow the name upon a little hole at the end of amuddy lane about a couple of miles long, colonised by onewheelwright, four paupers, and a beer-shop; but, even thisauthority, slight as it is, must be regarded with extremesuspicion, inasmuch as the inhabitants of the hole aforesaid, concur in opining that it never had any name at all, from theearliest ages down to the present day. 

The Winglebury Arms, in the centre of the High-street, opposite thesmall building with the big clock, is the principal inn of GreatWinglebury--the commercial-inn, posting-house, and excise-office;the 'Blue' house at every election, and the judges' house at everyassizes. It is the head-quarters of the Gentlemen's Whist Club ofWinglebury Blues (so called in opposition to the Gentlemen's WhistClub of Winglebury Buffs, held at the other house, a little furtherdown): and whenever a juggler, or wax-work man, or concert-giver, takes Great Winglebury in his circuit, it is immediately placardedall over the town that Mr. So-and-so, 'trusting to that liberalsupport which the inhabitants of Great Winglebury have long been soliberal in bestowing, has at a great expense engaged the elegantand commodious assembly-rooms, attached to the Winglebury Arms. 'The house is a large one, with a red brick and stone front; apretty spacious hall, ornamented with evergreen plants, terminatesin a perspective view of the bar, and a glass case, in which aredisplayed a choice variety of delicacies ready for dressing, tocatch the eye of a new-comer the moment he enters, and excite hisappetite to the highest possible pitch. Opposite doors lead to the'coffee' and 'commercial' rooms; and a great wide, ramblingstaircase, --three stairs and a landing--four stairs and anotherlanding--one step and another landing--half-a-dozen stairs andanother landing--and so on--conducts to galleries of bedrooms, andlabyrinths of sitting-rooms, denominated 'private, ' where you mayenjoy yourself, as privately as you can in any place where somebewildered being walks into your room every five minutes, bymistake, and then walks out again, to open all the doors along thegallery until he finds his own. 

Such is the Winglebury Arms, at this day, and such was theWinglebury Arms some time since--no matter when--two or threeminutes before the arrival of the London stage. Four horses withcloths on--change for a coach--were standing quietly at the cornerof the yard surrounded by a listless group of post-boys in shinyhats and smock-frocks, engaged in discussing the merits of thecattle; half a dozen ragged boys were standing a little apart, listening with evident interest to the conversation of theseworthies; and a few loungers were collected round the horse-trough, awaiting the arrival of the coach. 

The day was hot and sunny, the town in the zenith of its dulness, and with the exception of these few idlers, not a living creaturewas to be seen. Suddenly, the loud notes of a key-bugle broke themonotonous stillness of the street; in came the coach, rattlingover the uneven paving with a noise startling enough to stop eventhe large-faced clock itself. Down got the outsides, up went thewindows in all directions, out came the waiters, up started theostlers, and the loungers, and the post-boys, and the ragged boys, as if they were electrified--unstrapping, and unchaining, andunbuckling, and dragging willing horses out, and forcing reluctanthorses in, and making a most exhilarating bustle. 'Lady inside, here!' said the guard. 'Please to alight, ma'am, ' said the waiter. 'Private sitting-room?' interrogated the lady. 'Certainly, ma'am, 'responded the chamber-maid. 'Nothing but these 'ere trunks, ma'am?' inquired the guard. 'Nothing more, ' replied the lady. Upgot the outsides again, and the guard, and the coachman; off camethe cloths, with a jerk; 'All right, ' was the cry; and away theywent. The loungers lingered a minute or two in the road, watchingthe coach until it turned the corner, and then loitered away one byone. The street was clear again, and the town, by contrast, quieter than ever. 

'Lady in number twenty-five, ' screamed the landlady. --'Thomas!'

'Yes, ma'am. '

'Letter just been left for the gentleman in number nineteen. Bootsat the Lion left it. No answer. '

'Letter for you, sir, ' said Thomas, depositing the letter on numbernineteen's table. 

'For me?' said number nineteen, turning from the window, out ofwhich he had been surveying the scene just described. 

'Yes, sir, '--(waiters always speak in hints, and never uttercomplete sentences, )--'yes, sir, --Boots at the Lion, sir, --Bar, sir, --Missis said number nineteen, sir--Alexander Trott, Esq. , sir?--Your card at the bar, sir, I think, sir?'

'My name IS Trott, ' replied number nineteen, breaking the seal. 'You may go, waiter. ' The waiter pulled down the window-blind, andthen pulled it up again--for a regular waiter must do somethingbefore he leaves the room--adjusted the glasses on the side-board, brushed a place that was NOT dusty, rubbed his hands very hard, walked stealthily to the door, and evaporated. 

There was, evidently, something in the contents of the letter, of anature, if not wholly unexpected, certainly extremely disagreeable. Mr. Alexander Trott laid it down, and took it up again, and walkedabout the room on particular squares of the carpet, and evenattempted, though unsuccessfully, to whistle an air. It wouldn'tdo. He threw himself into a chair, and read the following epistlealoud:-

'Blue Lion and Stomach-warmer, 'Great Winglebury. 'Wednesday Morning. 

'Sir. Immediately on discovering your intentions, I left ourcounting-house, and followed you. I know the purport of yourjourney;--that journey shall never be completed. 

'I have no friend here, just now, on whose secrecy I can rely. This shall be no obstacle to my revenge. Neither shall Emily Brownbe exposed to the mercenary solicitations of a scoundrel, odious inher eyes, and contemptible in everybody else's: nor will I tamelysubmit to the clandestine attacks of a base umbrella-maker. 

'Sir. From Great Winglebury church, a footpath leads through fourmeadows to a retired spot known to the townspeople as Stiffun'sAcre. ' [Mr. Trott shuddered. ] 'I shall be waiting there alone, attwenty minutes before six o'clock to-morrow morning. Should I bedisappointed in seeing you there, I will do myself the pleasure ofcalling with a horsewhip. 

'HORACE HUNTER. 

'PS. There is a gunsmiths in the High-street; and they won't sellgunpowder after dark--you understand me. 

'PPS. You had better not order your breakfast in the morning untilyou have met me. It may be an unnecessary expense. '

'Desperate-minded villain! I knew how it would be!' ejaculated theterrified Trott. 'I always told father, that once start me on thisexpedition, and Hunter would pursue me like the Wandering Jew. It's bad enough as it is, to marry with the old people's commands, and without the girl's consent; but what will Emily think of me, ifI go down there breathless with running away from this infernalsalamander? What SHALL I do? What CAN I do? If I go back to thecity, I'm disgraced for ever--lose the girl--and, what's more, losethe money too. Even if I did go on to the Browns' by the coach, Hunter would be after me in a post-chaise; and if I go to thisplace, this Stiffun's Acre (another shudder), I'm as good as dead. I've seen him hit the man at the Pall-mall shooting-gallery, in thesecond button-hole of the waistcoat, five times out of every six, and when he didn't hit him there, he hit him in the head. ' Withthis consolatory reminiscence Mr. Alexander Trott again ejaculated, 'What shall I do?'

Long and weary were his reflections, as, burying his face in hishand, he sat, ruminating on the best course to be pursued. Hismental direction-post pointed to London. He thought of the'governor's' anger, and the loss of the fortune which the paternalBrown had promised the paternal Trott his daughter shouldcontribute to the coffers of his son. Then the words 'To Brown's'were legibly inscribed on the said direction-post, but HoraceHunter's denunciation rung in his ears;--last of all it bore, inred letters, the words, 'To Stiffun's Acre;' and then Mr. AlexanderTrott decided on adopting a plan which he presently matured. 

First and foremost, he despatched the under-boots to the Blue Lionand Stomach-warmer, with a gentlemanly note to Mr. Horace Hunter, intimating that he thirsted for his destruction and would dohimself the pleasure of slaughtering him next morning, withoutfail. He then wrote another letter, and requested the attendanceof the other boots--for they kept a pair. A modest knock at theroom door was heard. 'Come in, ' said Mr. Trott. A man thrust in ared head with one eye in it, and being again desired to 'come in, 'brought in the body and the legs to which the head belonged, and afur cap which belonged to the head. 

'You are the upper-boots, I think?' inquired Mr. Trott. 

'Yes, I am the upper-boots, ' replied a voice from inside avelveteen case, with mother-of-pearl buttons--'that is, I'm theboots as b'longs to the house; the other man's my man, as goeserrands and does odd jobs. Top-boots and half-boots, I calls us. '

'You're from London?' inquired Mr. Trott. 

'Driv a cab once, ' was the laconic reply. 

'Why don't you drive it now?' asked Mr. Trott. 

'Over-driv the cab, and driv over a 'ooman, ' replied the top-boots, with brevity. 

'Do you know the mayor's house?' inquired Mr. Trott. 

'Rather, ' replied the boots, significantly, as if he had some goodreason to remember it. 

'Do you think you could manage to leave a letter there?'interrogated Trott. 

'Shouldn't wonder, ' responded boots. 

'But this letter, ' said Trott, holding a deformed note with aparalytic direction in one hand, and five shillings in the other--'this letter is anonymous. '

'A--what?' interrupted the boots. 

'Anonymous--he's not to know who it comes from. '

'Oh! I see, ' responded the reg'lar, with a knowing wink, butwithout evincing the slightest disinclination to undertake thecharge--'I see--bit o' Sving, eh?' and his one eye wandered roundthe room, as if in quest of a dark lantern and phosphorus-box. 'But, I say!' he continued, recalling the eye from its search, andbringing it to bear on Mr. Trott. 'I say, he's a lawyer, ourmayor, and insured in the County. If you've a spite agen him, you'd better not burn his house down--blessed if I don't think itwould be the greatest favour you could do him. ' And he chuckledinwardly. 

If Mr. Alexander Trott had been in any other situation, his firstact would have been to kick the man down-stairs by deputy; or, inother words, to ring the bell, and desire the landlord to take hisboots off. He contented himself, however, with doubling the feeand explaining that the letter merely related to a breach of thepeace. The top-boots retired, solemnly pledged to secrecy; and Mr. Alexander Trott sat down to a fried sole, maintenon cutlet, Madeira, and sundries, with greater composure than he hadexperienced since the receipt of Horace Hunter's letter ofdefiance. 

The lady who alighted from the London coach had no sooner beeninstalled in number twenty-five, and made some alteration in hertravelling-dress, than she indited a note to Joseph Overton, esquire, solicitor, and mayor of Great Winglebury, requesting hisimmediate attendance on private business of paramount importance--asummons which that worthy functionary lost no time in obeying; forafter sundry openings of his eyes, divers ejaculations of 'Blessme!' and other manifestations of surprise, he took his broad-brimmed hat from its accustomed peg in his little front office, andwalked briskly down the High-street to the Winglebury Arms; throughthe hall and up the staircase of which establishment he was usheredby the landlady, and a crowd of officious waiters, to the door ofnumber twenty-five. 

'Show the gentleman in, ' said the stranger lady, in reply to theforemost waiter's announcement. The gentleman was shown inaccordingly. 

The lady rose from the sofa; the mayor advanced a step from thedoor; and there they both paused, for a minute or two, looking atone another as if by mutual consent. The mayor saw before him abuxom, richly-dressed female of about forty; the lady looked upon asleek man, about ten years older, in drab shorts and continuations, black coat, neckcloth, and gloves. 

'Miss Julia Manners!' exclaimed the mayor at length, 'you astonishme. '

'That's very unfair of you, Overton, ' replied Miss Julia, 'for Ihave known you, long enough, not to be surprised at anything youdo, and you might extend equal courtesy to me. '

'But to run away--actually run away--with a young man!'remonstrated the mayor. 

'You wouldn't have me actually run away with an old one, Ipresume?' was the cool rejoinder. 

'And then to ask me--me--of all people in the world--a man of myage and appearance--mayor of the town--to promote such a scheme!'pettishly ejaculated Joseph Overton; throwing himself into an arm-chair, and producing Miss Julia's letter from his pocket, as if tocorroborate the assertion that he HAD been asked. 

'Now, Overton, ' replied the lady, 'I want your assistance in thismatter, and I must have it. In the lifetime of that poor old dear, Mr. Cornberry, who--who--'

'Who was to have married you, and didn't, because he died first;and who left you his property unencumbered with the addition ofhimself, ' suggested the mayor. 

'Well, ' replied Miss Julia, reddening slightly, 'in the lifetime ofthe poor old dear, the property had the incumbrance of yourmanagement; and all I will say of that, is, that I only wonder itdidn't die of consumption instead of its master. You helpedyourself then:- help me now. '

Mr. Joseph Overton was a man of the world, and an attorney; and ascertain indistinct recollections of an odd thousand pounds or two, appropriated by mistake, passed across his mind he hemmeddeprecatingly, smiled blandly, remained silent for a few seconds;and finally inquired, 'What do you wish me to do?'

'I'll tell you, ' replied Miss Julia--'I'll tell you in three words. Dear Lord Peter--'

'That's the young man, I suppose--' interrupted the mayor. 

'That's the young Nobleman, ' replied the lady, with a great stresson the last word. 'Dear Lord Peter is considerably afraid of theresentment of his family; and we have therefore thought it betterto make the match a stolen one. He left town, to avoid suspicion, on a visit to his friend, the Honourable Augustus Flair, whoseseat, as you know, is about thirty miles from this, accompaniedonly by his favourite tiger. We arranged that I should come herealone in the London coach; and that he, leaving his tiger and cabbehind him, should come on, and arrive here as soon as possiblethis afternoon. '

'Very well, ' observed Joseph Overton, 'and then he can order thechaise, and you can go on to Gretna Green together, withoutrequiring the presence or interference of a third party, can'tyou?'

'No, ' replied Miss Julia. 'We have every reason to believe--dearLord Peter not being considered very prudent or sagacious by hisfriends, and they having discovered his attachment to me--that, immediately on his absence being observed, pursuit will be made inthis direction:- to elude which, and to prevent our being traced, Iwish it to be understood in this house, that dear Lord Peter isslightly deranged, though perfectly harmless; and that I am, unknown to him, awaiting his arrival to convey him in a post-chaiseto a private asylum--at Berwick, say. If I don't show myself much, I dare say I can manage to pass for his mother. '

The thought occurred to the mayor's mind that the lady might showherself a good deal without fear of detection; seeing that she wasabout double the age of her intended husband. He said nothing, however, and the lady proceeded. 

'With the whole of this arrangement dear Lord Peter is acquainted;and all I want you to do, is, to make the delusion more complete bygiving it the sanction of your influence in this place, andassigning this as a reason to the people of the house for my takingthe young gentleman away. As it would not be consistent with thestory that I should see him until after he has entered the chaise, I also wish you to communicate with him, and inform him that it isall going on well. '

'Has he arrived?' inquired Overton. 

'I don't know, ' replied the lady. 

'Then how am I to know!' inquired the mayor. 'Of course he willnot give his own name at the bar. '

'I begged him, immediately on his arrival, to write you a note, 'replied Miss Manners; 'and to prevent the possibility of ourproject being discovered through its means, I desired him to writeanonymously, and in mysterious terms, to acquaint you with thenumber of his room. '

'Bless me!' exclaimed the mayor, rising from his seat, andsearching his pockets--'most extraordinary circumstance--he hasarrived--mysterious note left at my house in a most mysteriousmanner, just before yours--didn't know what to make of it before, and certainly shouldn't have attended to it. --Oh! here it is. ' AndJoseph Overton pulled out of an inner coat-pocket the identicalletter penned by Alexander Trott. 'Is this his lordship's hand?'

'Oh yes, ' replied Julia; 'good, punctual creature! I have not seenit more than once or twice, but I know he writes very badly andvery large. These dear, wild young noblemen, you know, Overton--'

'Ay, ay, I see, ' replied the mayor. --'Horses and dogs, play andwine--grooms, actresses, and cigars--the stable, the green-room, the saloon, and the tavern; and the legislative assembly at last. '

'Here's what he says, ' pursued the mayor; '"Sir, --A young gentlemanin number nineteen at the Winglebury Arms, is bent on committing arash act to-morrow morning at an early hour. " (That's good--hemeans marrying. ) "If you have any regard for the peace of thistown, or the preservation of one--it may be two--human lives"--Whatthe deuce does he mean by that?'

'That he's so anxious for the ceremony, he will expire if it's putoff, and that I may possibly do the same, ' replied the lady withgreat complacency. 

'Oh! I see--not much fear of that;--well--"two human lives, youwill cause him to be removed to-night. " (He wants to start atonce. ) "Fear not to do this on your responsibility: for to-morrowthe absolute necessity of the proceeding will be but too apparent. Remember: number nineteen. The name is Trott. No delay; for lifeand death depend upon your promptitude. " Passionate language, certainly. Shall I see him?'

'Do, ' replied Miss Julia; 'and entreat him to act his part well. Iam half afraid of him. Tell him to be cautious. '

'I will, ' said the mayor. 

'Settle all the arrangements. '

'I will, ' said the mayor again. 

'And say I think the chaise had better be ordered for one o'clock. '

'Very well, ' said the mayor once more; and, ruminating on theabsurdity of the situation in which fate and old acquaintance hadplaced him, he desired a waiter to herald his approach to thetemporary representative of number nineteen. 

The announcement, 'Gentleman to speak with you, sir, ' induced Mr. Trott to pause half-way in the glass of port, the contents of whichhe was in the act of imbibing at the moment; to rise from hischair; and retreat a few paces towards the window, as if to securea retreat, in the event of the visitor assuming the form andappearance of Horace Hunter. One glance at Joseph Overton, however, quieted his apprehensions. He courteously motioned thestranger to a seat. The waiter, after a little jingling with thedecanter and glasses, consented to leave the room; and JosephOverton, placing the broad-brimmed hat on the chair next him, andbending his body gently forward, opened the business by saying in avery low and cautious tone, 'My lord--'

'Eh?' said Mr. Alexander Trott, in a loud key, with the vacant andmystified stare of a chilly somnambulist. 

'Hush--hush!' said the cautious attorney: 'to be sure--quiteright--no titles here--my name is Overton, sir. '

'Overton?'

'Yes: the mayor of this place--you sent me a letter with anonymousinformation, this afternoon. '

'I, sir?' exclaimed Trott with ill-dissembled surprise; for, cowardas he was, he would willingly have repudiated the authorship of theletter in question. 'I, sir?'

'Yes, you, sir; did you not?' responded Overton, annoyed with whathe supposed to be an extreme degree of unnecessary suspicion. 'Either this letter is yours, or it is not. If it be, we canconverse securely upon the subject at once. If it be not, ofcourse I have no more to say. '

'Stay, stay, ' said Trott, 'it IS mine; I DID write it. What couldI do, sir? I had no friend here. '

'To be sure, to be sure, ' said the mayor, encouragingly, 'you couldnot have managed it better. Well, sir; it will be necessary foryou to leave here to-night in a post-chaise and four. And theharder the boys drive, the better. You are not safe from pursuit. '

'Bless me!' exclaimed Trott, in an agony of apprehension, 'can suchthings happen in a country like this? Such unrelenting and cold-blooded hostility!' He wiped off the concentrated essence ofcowardice that was oozing fast down his forehead, and looked aghastat Joseph Overton. 

'It certainly is a very hard case, ' replied the mayor with a smile, 'that, in a free country, people can't marry whom they like, without being hunted down as if they were criminals. However, inthe present instance the lady is willing, you know, and that's themain point, after all. '

'Lady willing, ' repeated Trott, mechanically. 'How do you know thelady's willing?'

'Come, that's a good one, ' said the mayor, benevolently tapping Mr. Trott on the arm with his broad-brimmed hat; 'I have known her, well, for a long time; and if anybody could entertain the remotestdoubt on the subject, I assure you I have none, nor need you have. '

'Dear me!' said Mr. Trott, ruminating. 'This is VERYextraordinary!'

'Well, Lord Peter, ' said the mayor, rising. 

'Lord Peter?' repeated Mr. Trott. 

'Oh--ah, I forgot. Mr. Trott, then--Trott--very good, ha! ha!--Well, sir, the chaise shall be ready at half-past twelve. '

'And what is to become of me until then?' inquired Mr. Trott, anxiously. 'Wouldn't it save appearances, if I were placed undersome restraint?'

'Ah!' replied Overton, 'very good thought--capital idea indeed. I'll send somebody up directly. And if you make a littleresistance when we put you in the chaise it wouldn't be amiss--lookas if you didn't want to be taken away, you know. '

'To be sure, ' said Trott--'to be sure. '

'Well, my lord, ' said Overton, in a low tone, 'until then, I wishyour lordship a good evening. '

'Lord--lordship?' ejaculated Trott again, falling back a step ortwo, and gazing, in unutterable wonder, on the countenance of themayor. 

'Ha-ha! I see, my lord--practising the madman?--very good indeed--very vacant look--capital, my lord, capital--good evening, Mr. --Trott--ha! ha! ha!'

'That mayor's decidedly drunk, ' soliloquised Mr. Trott, throwinghimself back in his chair, in an attitude of reflection. 

'He is a much cleverer fellow than I thought him, that youngnobleman--he carries it off uncommonly well, ' thought Overton, ashe went his way to the bar, there to complete his arrangements. This was soon done. Every word of the story was implicitlybelieved, and the one-eyed boots was immediately instructed torepair to number nineteen, to act as custodian of the person of thesupposed lunatic until half-past twelve o'clock. In pursuance ofthis direction, that somewhat eccentric gentleman armed himselfwith a walking-stick of gigantic dimensions, and repaired, with hisusual equanimity of manner, to Mr. Trott's apartment, which heentered without any ceremony, and mounted guard in, by quietlydepositing himself on a chair near the door, where he proceeded tobeguile the time by whistling a popular air with great apparentsatisfaction. 

'What do you want here, you scoundrel?' exclaimed Mr. AlexanderTrott, with a proper appearance of indignation at his detention. 

The boots beat time with his head, as he looked gently round at Mr. Trott with a smile of pity, and whistled an adagio movement. 

'Do you attend in this room by Mr. Overton's desire?' inquiredTrott, rather astonished at the man's demeanour. 

'Keep yourself to yourself, young feller, ' calmly responded theboots, 'and don't say nothing to nobody. ' And he whistled again. 

'Now mind!' ejaculated Mr. Trott, anxious to keep up the farce ofwishing with great earnestness to fight a duel if they'd let him. 'I protest against being kept here. I deny that I have anyintention of fighting with anybody. But as it's useless contendingwith superior numbers, I shall sit quietly down. '

'You'd better, ' observed the placid boots, shaking the large stickexpressively. 

'Under protest, however, ' added Alexander Trott, seating himselfwith indignation in his face, but great content in his heart. 'Under protest. '

'Oh, certainly!' responded the boots; 'anything you please. Ifyou're happy, I'm transported; only don't talk too much--it'll makeyou worse. '

'Make me worse?' exclaimed Trott, in unfeigned astonishment: 'theman's drunk!'

'You'd better be quiet, young feller, ' remarked the boots, goingthrough a threatening piece of pantomime with the stick. 

'Or mad!' said Mr. Trott, rather alarmed. 'Leave the room, sir, and tell them to send somebody else. '

'Won't do!' replied the boots. 

'Leave the room!' shouted Trott, ringing the bell violently: forhe began to be alarmed on a new score. 

'Leave that 'ere bell alone, you wretched loo-nattic!' said theboots, suddenly forcing the unfortunate Trott back into his chair, and brandishing the stick aloft. 'Be quiet, you miserable object, and don't let everybody know there's a madman in the house. '

'He IS a madman! He IS a madman!' exclaimed the terrified Mr. Trott, gazing on the one eye of the red-headed boots with a look ofabject horror. 

'Madman!' replied the boots, 'dam'me, I think he IS a madman with avengeance! Listen to me, you unfortunate. Ah! would you?' [aslight tap on the head with the large stick, as Mr. Trott madeanother move towards the bell-handle] 'I caught you there! did I?'

'Spare my life!' exclaimed Trott, raising his hands imploringly. 

'I don't want your life, ' replied the boots, disdainfully, 'thoughI think it 'ud be a charity if somebody took it. '

'No, no, it wouldn't, ' interrupted poor Mr. Trott, hurriedly, 'no, no, it wouldn't! I--I-'d rather keep it!'

'O werry well, ' said the boots: 'that's a mere matter of taste--ev'ry one to his liking. Hows'ever, all I've got to say is thishere: You sit quietly down in that chair, and I'll sit hoppersiteyou here, and if you keep quiet and don't stir, I won't damage you;but, if you move hand or foot till half-past twelve o'clock, Ishall alter the expression of your countenance so completely, thatthe next time you look in the glass you'll ask vether you're goneout of town, and ven you're likely to come back again. So sitdown. "

'I will--I will, ' responded the victim of mistakes; and down satMr. Trott and down sat the boots too, exactly opposite him, withthe stick ready for immediate action in case of emergency. 

Long and dreary were the hours that followed. The bell of GreatWinglebury church had just struck ten, and two hours and a halfwould probably elapse before succour arrived. 

For half an hour, the noise occasioned by shutting up the shops inthe street beneath, betokened something like life in the town, andrendered Mr. Trott's situation a little less insupportable; but, when even these ceased, and nothing was heard beyond the occasionalrattling of a post-chaise as it drove up the yard to change horses, and then drove away again, or the clattering of horses' hoofs inthe stables behind, it became almost unbearable. The bootsoccasionally moved an inch or two, to knock superfluous bits of waxoff the candles, which were burning low, but instantaneouslyresumed his former position; and as he remembered to have heard, somewhere or other, that the human eye had an unfailing effect incontrolling mad people, he kept his solitary organ of visionconstantly fixed on Mr. Alexander Trott. That unfortunateindividual stared at his companion in his turn, until his featuresgrew more and more indistinct--his hair gradually less red--and theroom more misty and obscure. Mr. Alexander Trott fell into a soundsleep, from which he was awakened by a rumbling in the street, anda cry of 'Chaise-and-four for number twenty-five!' A bustle on thestairs succeeded; the room door was hastily thrown open; and Mr. Joseph Overton entered, followed by four stout waiters, and Mrs. Williamson, the stout landlady of the Winglebury Arms. 

'Mr. Overton!' exclaimed Mr. Alexander Trott, jumping up in afrenzy. 'Look at this man, sir; consider the situation in which Ihave been placed for three hours past--the person you sent to guardme, sir, was a madman--a madman--a raging, ravaging, furiousmadman. '

'Bravo!' whispered Mr. Overton. 

'Poor dear!' said the compassionate Mrs. Williamson, 'mad peoplealways thinks other people's mad. '

'Poor dear!' ejaculated Mr. Alexander Trott. 'What the devil doyou mean by poor dear! Are you the landlady of this house?'

'Yes, yes, ' replied the stout old lady, 'don't exert yourself, there's a dear! Consider your health, now; do. '

'Exert myself!' shouted Mr. Alexander Trott; 'it's a mercy, ma'am, that I have any breath to exert myself with! I might have beenassassinated three hours ago by that one-eyed monster with theoakum head. How dare you have a madman, ma'am--how dare you have amadman, to assault and terrify the visitors to your house?'

'I'll never have another, ' said Mrs. Williamson, casting a look ofreproach at the mayor. 

'Capital, capital, ' whispered Overton again, as he enveloped Mr. Alexander Trott in a thick travelling-cloak. 

'Capital, sir!' exclaimed Trott, aloud; 'it's horrible. The veryrecollection makes me shudder. I'd rather fight four duels inthree hours, if I survived the first three, than I'd sit for thattime face to face with a madman. '

'Keep it up, my lord, as you go down-stairs, ' whispered Overton, 'your bill is paid, and your portmanteau in the chaise. ' And thenhe added aloud, 'Now, waiters, the gentleman's ready. '

At this signal, the waiters crowded round Mr. Alexander Trott. Onetook one arm; another, the other; a third, walked before with acandle; the fourth, behind with another candle; the boots and Mrs. Williamson brought up the rear; and down-stairs they went: Mr. Alexander Trott expressing alternately at the very top of his voiceeither his feigned reluctance to go, or his unfeigned indignationat being shut up with a madman. 

Mr. Overton was waiting at the chaise-door, the boys were readymounted, and a few ostlers and stable nondescripts were standinground to witness the departure of 'the mad gentleman. ' Mr. Alexander Trott's foot was on the step, when he observed (which thedim light had prevented his doing before) a figure seated in thechaise, closely muffled up in a cloak like his own. 

'Who's that?' he inquired of Overton, in a whisper. 

'Hush, hush, ' replied the mayor: 'the other party of course. '

'The other party!' exclaimed Trott, with an effort to retreat. 

'Yes, yes; you'll soon find that out, before you go far, I shouldthink--but make a noise, you'll excite suspicion if you whisper tome so much. '

'I won't go in this chaise!' shouted Mr. Alexander Trott, all hisoriginal fears recurring with tenfold violence. 'I shall beassassinated--I shall be--'

'Bravo, bravo, ' whispered Overton. 'I'll push you in. '

'But I won't go, ' exclaimed Mr. Trott. 'Help here, help! They'recarrying me away against my will. This is a plot to murder me. '

'Poor dear!' said Mrs. Williamson again. 

'Now, boys, put 'em along, ' cried the mayor, pushing Trott in andslamming the door. 'Off with you, as quick as you can, and stopfor nothing till you come to the next stage--all right!'

'Horses are paid, Tom, ' screamed Mrs. Williamson; and away went thechaise, at the rate of fourteen miles an hour, with Mr. AlexanderTrott and Miss Julia Manners carefully shut up in the inside. 

Mr. Alexander Trott remained coiled up in one corner of the chaise, and his mysterious companion in the other, for the first two orthree miles; Mr. Trott edging more and more into his corner, as hefelt his companion gradually edging more and more from hers; andvainly endeavouring in the darkness to catch a glimpse of thefurious face of the supposed Horace Hunter. 

'We may speak now, ' said his fellow-traveller, at length; 'thepost-boys can neither see nor hear us. '

'That's not Hunter's voice!'--thought Alexander, astonished. 

'Dear Lord Peter!' said Miss Julia, most winningly: putting herarm on Mr. Trott's shoulder. 'Dear Lord Peter. Not a word?'

'Why, it's a woman!' exclaimed Mr. Trott, in a low tone ofexcessive wonder. 

'Ah! Whose voice is that?' said Julia; ''tis not Lord Peter's. '

'No, --it's mine, ' replied Mr. Trott. 

'Yours!' ejaculated Miss Julia Manners; 'a strange man! Graciousheaven! How came you here!'

'Whoever you are, you might have known that I came against my will, ma'am, ' replied Alexander, 'for I made noise enough when I got in. '

'Do you come from Lord Peter?' inquired Miss Manners. 

'Confound Lord Peter, ' replied Trott pettishly. 'I don't know anyLord Peter. I never heard of him before to-night, when I've beenLord Peter'd by one and Lord Peter'd by another, till I verilybelieve I'm mad, or dreaming--'

'Whither are we going?' inquired the lady tragically. 

'How should _I_ know, ma'am?' replied Trott with singular coolness;for the events of the evening had completely hardened him. 

'Stop stop!' cried the lady, letting down the front glasses of thechaise. 

'Stay, my dear ma'am!' said Mr. Trott, pulling the glasses up againwith one hand, and gently squeezing Miss Julia's waist with theother. 'There is some mistake here; give me till the end of thisstage to explain my share of it. We must go so far; you cannot beset down here alone, at this hour of the night. '

The lady consented; the mistake was mutually explained. Mr. Trottwas a young man, had highly promising whiskers, an undeniabletailor, and an insinuating address--he wanted nothing but valour, and who wants that with three thousand a-year? The lady had this, and more; she wanted a young husband, and the only course open toMr. Trott to retrieve his disgrace was a rich wife. So, they cameto the conclusion that it would be a pity to have all this troubleand expense for nothing; and that as they were so far on the roadalready, they had better go to Gretna Green, and marry each other;and they did so. And the very next preceding entry in theBlacksmith's book, was an entry of the marriage of Emily Brown withHorace Hunter. Mr. Hunter took his wife home, and begged pardon, and WAS pardoned; and Mr. Trott took HIS wife home, begged pardontoo, and was pardoned also. And Lord Peter, who had been detainedbeyond his time by drinking champagne and riding a steeple-chase, went back to the Honourable Augustus Flair's, and drank morechampagne, and rode another steeple-chase, and was thrown andkilled. And Horace Hunter took great credit to himself forpractising on the cowardice of Alexander Trott; and all thesecircumstances were discovered in time, and carefully noted down;and if you ever stop a week at the Winglebury Arms, they will giveyou just this account of The Great Winglebury Duel. 

CHAPTER IX--MRS. JOSEPH PORTER

Most extensive were the preparations at Rose Villa, Clapham Rise, in the occupation of Mr. Gattleton (a stock-broker in especiallycomfortable circumstances), and great was the anxiety of Mr. Gattleton's interesting family, as the day fixed for therepresentation of the Private Play which had been 'many months inpreparation, ' approached. The whole family was infected with themania for Private Theatricals; the house, usually so clean andtidy, was, to use Mr. Gattleton's expressive description, 'regularly turned out o' windows;' the large dining-room, dismantled of its furniture, and ornaments, presented a strangejumble of flats, flies, wings, lamps, bridges, clouds, thunder andlightning, festoons and flowers, daggers and foil, and variousother messes in theatrical slang included under the comprehensivename of 'properties. ' The bedrooms were crowded with scenery, thekitchen was occupied by carpenters. Rehearsals took place everyother night in the drawing-room, and every sofa in the house wasmore or less damaged by the perseverance and spirit with which Mr. Sempronius Gattleton, and Miss Lucina, rehearsed the smotheringscene in 'Othello'--it having been determined that that tragedyshould form the first portion of the evening's entertainments. 

'When we're a LEETLE more perfect, I think it will go admirably, 'said Mr. Sempronius, addressing his corps dramatique, at theconclusion of the hundred and fiftieth rehearsal. In considerationof his sustaining the trifling inconvenience of bearing all theexpenses of the play, Mr. Sempronius had been, in the most handsomemanner, unanimously elected stage-manager. 'Evans, ' continued Mr. Gattleton, the younger, addressing a tall, thin, pale younggentleman, with extensive whiskers--'Evans, you play Roderigobeautifully. '

'Beautifully, ' echoed the three Miss Gattletons; for Mr. Evans waspronounced by all his lady friends to be 'quite a dear. ' He lookedso interesting, and had such lovely whiskers: to say nothing ofhis talent for writing verses in albums and playing the flute!Roderigo simpered and bowed. 

'But I think, ' added the manager, 'you are hardly perfect in the--fall--in the fencing-scene, where you are--you understand?'

'It's very difficult, ' said Mr. Evans, thoughtfully; 'I've fallenabout, a good deal, in our counting-house lately, for practice, only I find it hurts one so. Being obliged to fall backward yousee, it bruises one's head a good deal. '

'But you must take care you don't knock a wing down, ' said Mr. Gattleton, the elder, who had been appointed prompter, and who tookas much interest in the play as the youngest of the company. 'Thestage is very narrow, you know. '

'Oh! don't be afraid, ' said Mr. Evans, with a very self-satisfiedair; 'I shall fall with my head "off, " and then I can't do anyharm. '

'But, egad, ' said the manager, rubbing his hands, 'we shall make adecided hit in "Masaniello. " Harleigh sings that music admirably. '

Everybody echoed the sentiment. Mr. Harleigh smiled, and lookedfoolish--not an unusual thing with him--hummed' Behold howbrightly breaks the morning, ' and blushed as red as the fisherman'snightcap he was trying on. 

'Let's see, ' resumed the manager, telling the number on hisfingers, 'we shall have three dancing female peasants, besidesFenella, and four fishermen. Then, there's our man Tom; he canhave a pair of ducks of mine, and a check shirt of Bob's, and a rednightcap, and he'll do for another--that's five. In the choruses, of course, we can sing at the sides; and in the market-scene we canwalk about in cloaks and things. When the revolt takes place, Tommust keep rushing in on one side and out on the other, with apickaxe, as fast as he can. The effect will be electrical; it willlook exactly as if there were an immense number of 'em. And in theeruption-scene we must burn the red fire, and upset the tea-trays, and make all sorts of noises--and it's sure to do. '

'Sure! sure!' cried all the performers una voce--and away hurriedMr. Sempronius Gattleton to wash the burnt cork off his face, andsuperintend the 'setting up' of some of the amateur-painted, butnever-sufficiently-to-be-admired, scenery. 

Mrs. Gattleton was a kind, good-tempered, vulgar soul, exceedinglyfond of her husband and children, and entertaining only threedislikes. In the first place, she had a natural antipathy toanybody else's unmarried daughters; in the second, she was inbodily fear of anything in the shape of ridicule; lastly--almost anecessary consequence of this feeling--she regarded, with feelingsof the utmost horror, one Mrs. Joseph Porter over the way. However, the good folks of Clapham and its vicinity stood very muchin awe of scandal and sarcasm; and thus Mrs. Joseph Porter wascourted, and flattered, and caressed, and invited, for much thesame reason that induces a poor author, without a farthing in hispocket, to behave with extraordinary civility to a twopennypostman. 

'Never mind, ma, ' said Miss Emma Porter, in colloquy with herrespected relative, and trying to look unconcerned; 'if they hadinvited me, you know that neither you nor pa would have allowed meto take part in such an exhibition. '

'Just what I should have thought from your high sense ofpropriety, ' returned the mother. 'I am glad to see, Emma, you knowhow to designate the proceeding. ' Miss P. , by-the-bye, had onlythe week before made 'an exhibition' of herself for four days, behind a counter at a fancy fair, to all and every of her Majesty'sliege subjects who were disposed to pay a shilling each for theprivilege of seeing some four dozen girls flirting with strangers, and playing at shop. 

'There!' said Mrs. Porter, looking out of window; 'there are tworounds of beef and a ham going in--clearly for sandwiches; andThomas, the pastry-cook, says, there have been twelve dozen tartsordered, besides blancmange and jellies. Upon my word! think ofthe Miss Gattletons in fancy dresses, too!'

'Oh, it's too ridiculous!' said Miss Porter, hysterically. 

'I'll manage to put them a little out of conceit with the business, however, ' said Mrs. Porter; and out she went on her charitableerrand. 

'Well, my dear Mrs. Gattleton, ' said Mrs. Joseph Porter, after theyhad been closeted for some time, and when, by dint of indefatigablepumping, she had managed to extract all the news about the play, 'well, my dear, people may say what they please; indeed we knowthey will, for some folks are SO ill-natured. Ah, my dear MissLucina, how d'ye do? I was just telling your mamma that I haveheard it said, that--'

'What?'

'Mrs. Porter is alluding to the play, my dear, ' said Mrs. Gattleton; 'she was, I am sorry to say, just informing me that--'

'Oh, now pray don't mention it, ' interrupted Mrs. Porter; 'it'smost absurd--quite as absurd as young What's-his-name saying hewondered how Miss Caroline, with such a foot and ankle, could havethe vanity to play Fenella. '

'Highly impertinent, whoever said it, ' said Mrs. Gattleton, bridling up. 

'Certainly, my dear, ' chimed in the delighted Mrs. Porter; 'mostundoubtedly! Because, as I said, if Miss Caroline DOES playFenella, it doesn't follow, as a matter of course, that she shouldthink she has a pretty foot;--and then--such puppies as these youngmen are--he had the impudence to say, that--'

How far the amiable Mrs. Porter might have succeeded in herpleasant purpose, it is impossible to say, had not the entrance ofMr. Thomas Balderstone, Mrs. Gattleton's brother, familiarly calledin the family 'Uncle Tom, ' changed the course of conversation, andsuggested to her mind an excellent plan of operation on the eveningof the play. 

Uncle Tom was very rich, and exceedingly fond of his nephews andnieces: as a matter of course, therefore, he was an object ofgreat importance in his own family. He was one of the best-heartedmen in existence: always in a good temper, and always talking. Itwas his boast that he wore top-boots on all occasions, and hadnever worn a black silk neckerchief; and it was his pride that heremembered all the principal plays of Shakspeare from beginning toend--and so he did. The result of this parrot-like accomplishmentwas, that he was not only perpetually quoting himself, but that hecould never sit by, and hear a misquotation from the 'Swan of Avon'without setting the unfortunate delinquent right. He was alsosomething of a wag; never missed an opportunity of saying what heconsidered a good thing, and invariably laughed until he cried atanything that appeared to him mirth-moving or ridiculous. 

'Well, girls!' said Uncle Tom, after the preparatory ceremony ofkissing and how-d'ye-do-ing had been gone through--'how d'ye geton? Know your parts, eh?--Lucina, my dear, act II. , scene I--place, left-cue--"Unknown fate, "--What's next, eh?--Go on--"TheHeavens--"'

'Oh, yes, ' said Miss Lucina, 'I recollect -

"The heavens forbidBut that our loves and comforts should increaseEven as our days do grow!"'

'Make a pause here and there, ' said the old gentleman, who was agreat critic. '"But that our loves and comforts should increase"--emphasis on the last syllable, "crease, "--loud "even, "--one, two, three, four; then loud again, "as our days do grow;" emphasis onDAYS. That's the way, my dear; trust to your uncle for emphasis. Ah! Sem, my boy, how are you?'

'Very well, thankee, uncle, ' returned Mr. Sempronius, who had justappeared, looking something like a ringdove, with a small circleround each eye: the result of his constant corking. 'Of course wesee you on Thursday. '

'Of course, of course, my dear boy. '

'What a pity it is your nephew didn't think of making you prompter, Mr. Balderstone!' whispered Mrs. Joseph Porter; 'you would havebeen invaluable. '

'Well, I flatter myself, I SHOULD have been tolerably up to thething, ' responded Uncle Tom. 

'I must bespeak sitting next you on the night, ' resumed Mrs. Porter; 'and then, if our dear young friends here, should be at allwrong, you will be able to enlighten me. I shall be sointerested. '

'I am sure I shall be most happy to give you any assistance in mypower'

'Mind, it's a bargain. '

'Certainly. '

'I don't know how it is, ' said Mrs. Gattleton to her daughters, asthey were sitting round the fire in the evening, looking over theirparts, 'but I really very much wish Mrs. Joseph Porter wasn'tcoming on Thursday. I am sure she's scheming something. '

'She can't make us ridiculous, however, ' observed Mr. SemproniusGattleton, haughtily. 

The long-looked-for Thursday arrived in due course, and broughtwith it, as Mr. Gattleton, senior, philosophically observed, 'nodisappointments, to speak of. ' True, it was yet a matter of doubtwhether Cassio would be enabled to get into the dress which hadbeen sent for him from the masquerade warehouse. It was equallyuncertain whether the principal female singer would be sufficientlyrecovered from the influenza to make her appearance; Mr. Harleigh, the Masaniello of the night, was hoarse, and rather unwell, inconsequence of the great quantity of lemon and sugar-candy he hadeaten to improve his voice; and two flutes and a violoncello hadpleaded severe colds. What of that? the audience were all coming. Everybody knew his part: the dresses were covered with tinsel andspangles; the white plumes looked beautiful; Mr. Evans hadpractised falling until he was bruised from head to foot and quiteperfect; Iago was sure that, in the stabbing-scene, he should make'a decided hit. ' A self-taught deaf gentleman, who had kindlyoffered to bring his flute, would be a most valuable addition tothe orchestra; Miss Jenkins's talent for the piano was too wellknown to be doubted for an instant; Mr. Cape had practised theviolin accompaniment with her frequently; and Mr. Brown, who hadkindly undertaken, at a few hours' notice, to bring hisvioloncello, would, no doubt, manage extremely well. 

Seven o'clock came, and so did the audience; all the rank andfashion of Clapham and its vicinity was fast filling the theatre. There were the Smiths, the Gubbinses, the Nixons, the Dixons, theHicksons, people with all sorts of names, two aldermen, a sheriffin perspective, Sir Thomas Glumper (who had been knighted in thelast reign for carrying up an address on somebody's escaping fromnothing); and last, not least, there were Mrs. Joseph Porter andUncle Tom, seated in the centre of the third row from the stage;Mrs. P. Amusing Uncle Tom with all sorts of stories, and Uncle Tomamusing every one else by laughing most immoderately. 

Ting, ting, ting! went the prompter's bell at eight o'clockprecisely, and dash went the orchestra into the overture to 'TheMen of Prometheus. ' The pianoforte player hammered away withlaudable perseverance; and the violoncello, which struck in atintervals, 'sounded very well, considering. ' The unfortunateindividual, however, who had undertaken to play the fluteaccompaniment 'at sight, ' found, from fatal experience, the perfecttruth of the old adage, 'ought of sight, out of mind;' for beingvery near-sighted, and being placed at a considerable distance fromhis music-book, all he had an opportunity of doing was to play abar now and then in the wrong place, and put the other performersout. It is, however, but justice to Mr. Brown to say that he didthis to admiration. The overture, in fact, was not unlike a racebetween the different instruments; the piano came in first byseveral bars, and the violoncello next, quite distancing the poorflute; for the deaf gentleman TOO-TOO'D away, quite unconsciousthat he was at all wrong, until apprised, by the applause of theaudience, that the overture was concluded. A considerable bustleand shuffling of feet was then heard upon the stage, accompanied bywhispers of 'Here's a pretty go!--what's to be done?' &c. Theaudience applauded again, by way of raising the spirits of theperformers; and then Mr. Sempronius desired the prompter, in a veryaudible voice, to 'clear the stage, and ring up. '

Ting, ting, ting! went the bell again. Everybody sat down; thecurtain shook; rose sufficiently high to display several pair ofyellow boots paddling about; and there remained. 

Ting, ting, ting! went the bell again. The curtain was violentlyconvulsed, but rose no higher; the audience tittered; Mrs. Porterlooked at Uncle Tom; Uncle Tom looked at everybody, rubbing hishands, and laughing with perfect rapture. After as much ringingwith the little bell as a muffin-boy would make in going down atolerably long street, and a vast deal of whispering, hammering, and calling for nails and cord, the curtain at length rose, anddiscovered Mr. Sempronius Gattleton solus, and decked for Othello. After three distinct rounds of applause, during which Mr. Sempronius applied his right hand to his left breast, and bowed inthe most approved manner, the manager advanced and said:

'Ladies and Gentlemen--I assure you it is with sincere regret, thatI regret to be compelled to inform you, that Iago who was to haveplayed Mr. Wilson--I beg your pardon, Ladies and Gentlemen, but Iam naturally somewhat agitated (applause)--I mean, Mr. Wilson, whowas to have played Iago, is--that is, has been--or, in other words, Ladies and Gentlemen, the fact is, that I have just received anote, in which I am informed that Iago is unavoidably detained atthe Post-office this evening. Under these circumstances, I trust--a--a--amateur performance--a--another gentleman undertaken to readthe part--request indulgence for a short time--courtesy andkindness of a British audience. ' Overwhelming applause. Exit Mr. Sempronius Gattleton, and curtain falls. 

The audience were, of course, exceedingly good-humoured; the wholebusiness was a joke; and accordingly they waited for an hour withthe utmost patience, being enlivened by an interlude of rout-cakesand lemonade. It appeared by Mr. Sempronius's subsequentexplanation, that the delay would not have been so great, had itnot so happened that when the substitute Iago had finisheddressing, and just as the play was on the point of commencing, theoriginal Iago unexpectedly arrived. The former was thereforecompelled to undress, and the latter to dress for his part; which, as he found some difficulty in getting into his clothes, occupiedno inconsiderable time. At last, the tragedy began in realearnest. It went off well enough, until the third scene of thefirst act, in which Othello addresses the Senate: the onlyremarkable circumstance being, that as Iago could not get on any ofthe stage boots, in consequence of his feet being violently swelledwith the heat and excitement, he was under the necessity of playingthe part in a pair of Wellingtons, which contrasted rather oddlywith his richly embroidered pantaloons. When Othello started withhis address to the Senate (whose dignity was represented by, theDuke, a carpenter, two men engaged on the recommendation of thegardener, and a boy), Mrs. Porter found the opportunity she soanxiously sought. 

Mr. Sempronius proceeded:

'"Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors, My very noble and approv'd good masters, That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter, It is most true;--rude am I in my speech--"'

'Is that right?' whispered Mrs. Porter to Uncle Tom. 

'No. '

'Tell him so, then. '

'I will. Sem!' called out Uncle Tom, 'that's wrong, my boy. '

'What's wrong, uncle?' demanded Othello, quite forgetting thedignity of his situation. 

'You've left out something. "True I have married--"'

'Oh, ah!' said Mr. Sempronius, endeavouring to hide his confusionas much and as ineffectually as the audience attempted to concealtheir half-suppressed tittering, by coughing with extraordinaryviolence -

- '"true I have married her; -The very head and front of my offendingHath this extent; no more. "

(Aside) Why don't you prompt, father?'

'Because I've mislaid my spectacles, ' said poor Mr. Gattleton, almost dead with the heat and bustle. 

'There, now it's "rude am I, "' said Uncle Tom. 

'Yes, I know it is, ' returned the unfortunate manager, proceedingwith his part. 

It would be useless and tiresome to quote the number of instancesin which Uncle Tom, now completely in his element, and instigatedby the mischievous Mrs. Porter, corrected the mistakes of theperformers; suffice it to say, that having mounted his hobby, nothing could induce him to dismount; so, during the wholeremainder of the play, he performed a kind of runningaccompaniment, by muttering everybody's part as it was beingdelivered, in an under-tone. The audience were highly amused, Mrs. Porter delighted, the performers embarrassed; Uncle Tom never wasbetter pleased in all his life; and Uncle Tom's nephews and nieceshad never, although the declared heirs to his large property, soheartily wished him gathered to his fathers as on that memorableoccasion. 

Several other minor causes, too, united to damp the ardour of thedramatis personae. None of the performers could walk in theirtights, or move their arms in their jackets; the pantaloons weretoo small, the boots too large, and the swords of all shapes andsizes. Mr. Evans, naturally too tall for the scenery, wore a blackvelvet hat with immense white plumes, the glory of which was lostin 'the flies;' and the only other inconvenience of which was, thatwhen it was off his head he could not put it on, and when it was onhe could not take it off. Notwithstanding all his practice, too, he fell with his head and shoulders as neatly through one of theside scenes, as a harlequin would jump through a panel in aChristmas pantomime. The pianoforte player, overpowered by theextreme heat of the room, fainted away at the commencement of theentertainments, leaving the music of 'Masaniello' to the flute andvioloncello. The orchestra complained that Mr. Harleigh put themout, and Mr. Harleigh declared that the orchestra prevented hissinging a note. The fishermen, who were hired for the occasion, revolted to the very life, positively refusing to play without anincreased allowance of spirits; and, their demand being compliedwith, getting drunk in the eruption-scene as naturally as possible. The red fire, which was burnt at the conclusion of the second act, not only nearly suffocated the audience, but nearly set the houseon fire into the bargain; and, as it was, the remainder of thepiece was acted in a thick fog. 

In short, the whole affair was, as Mrs. Joseph Porter triumphantlytold everybody, 'a complete failure. ' The audience went home atfour o'clock in the morning, exhausted with laughter, sufferingfrom severe headaches, and smelling terribly of brimstone andgunpowder. The Messrs. Gattleton, senior and junior, retired torest, with the vague idea of emigrating to Swan River early in theensuing week. 

Rose Villa has once again resumed its wonted appearance; thedining-room furniture has been replaced; the tables are as nicelypolished as formerly; the horsehair chairs are ranged against thewall, as regularly as ever; Venetian blinds have been fitted toevery window in the house to intercept the prying gaze of Mrs. Joseph Porter. The subject of theatricals is never mentioned inthe Gattleton family, unless, indeed, by Uncle Tom, who cannotrefrain from sometimes expressing his surprise and regret atfinding that his nephews and nieces appear to have lost the relishthey once possessed for the beauties of Shakspeare, and quotationsfrom the works of that immortal bard. 

CHAPTER X--A PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF MR. WATKINS TOTTLE

CHAPTER THE FIRST

Matrimony is proverbially a serious undertaking. Like an over-weening predilection for brandy-and-water, it is a misfortune intowhich a man easily falls, and from which he finds it remarkablydifficult to extricate himself. It is of no use telling a man whois timorous on these points, that it is but one plunge, and all isover. They say the same thing at the Old Bailey, and theunfortunate victims derive as much comfort from the assurance inthe one case as in the other. 

Mr. Watkins Tottle was a rather uncommon compound of stronguxorious inclinations, and an unparalleled degree of anti-connubialtimidity. He was about fifty years of age; stood four feet sixinches and three-quarters in his socks--for he never stood instockings at all--plump, clean, and rosy. He looked something likea vignette to one of Richardson's novels, and had a clean-cravatishformality of manner, and kitchen-pokerness of carriage, which SirCharles Grandison himself might have envied. He lived on anannuity, which was well adapted to the individual who received it, in one respect--it was rather small. He received it in periodicalpayments on every alternate Monday; but he ran himself out, about aday after the expiration of the first week, as regularly as aneight-day clock; and then, to make the comparison complete, hislandlady wound him up, and he went on with a regular tick. 

Mr. Watkins Tottle had long lived in a state of single blessedness, as bachelors say, or single cursedness, as spinsters think; but theidea of matrimony had never ceased to haunt him. Wrapt in profoundreveries on this never-failing theme, fancy transformed his smallparlour in Cecil-street, Strand, into a neat house in the suburbs;the half-hundredweight of coals under the kitchen-stairs suddenlysprang up into three tons of the best Walls-end; his small Frenchbedstead was converted into a regular matrimonial four-poster; andin the empty chair on the opposite side of the fireplace, imagination seated a beautiful young lady, with a very littleindependence or will of her own, and a very large independenceunder a will of her father's. 

'Who's there?' inquired Mr. Watkins Tottle, as a gentle tap at hisroom-door disturbed these meditations one evening. 

'Tottle, my dear fellow, how DO you do?' said a short elderlygentleman with a gruffish voice, bursting into the room, andreplying to the question by asking another. 

'Told you I should drop in some evening, ' said the short gentleman, as he delivered his hat into Tottle's hand, after a littlestruggling and dodging. 

'Delighted to see you, I'm sure, ' said Mr. Watkins Tottle, wishinginternally that his visitor had 'dropped in' to the Thames at thebottom of the street, instead of dropping into his parlour. Thefortnight was nearly up, and Watkins was hard up. 

'How is Mrs. Gabriel Parsons?' inquired Tottle. 

'Quite well, thank you, ' replied Mr. Gabriel Parsons, for that wasthe name the short gentleman revelled in. Here there was a pause;the short gentleman looked at the left hob of the fireplace; Mr. Watkins Tottle stared vacancy out of countenance. 

'Quite well, ' repeated the short gentleman, when five minutes hadexpired. 'I may say remarkably well. ' And he rubbed the palms ofhis hands as hard as if he were going to strike a light byfriction. 

'What will you take?' inquired Tottle, with the desperatesuddenness of a man who knew that unless the visitor took hisleave, he stood very little chance of taking anything else. 

'Oh, I don't know--have you any whiskey?'

'Why, ' replied Tottle, very slowly, for all this was gaining time, 'I HAD some capital, and remarkably strong whiskey last week; butit's all gone--and therefore its strength--'

'Is much beyond proof; or, in other words, impossible to beproved, ' said the short gentleman; and he laughed very heartily, and seemed quite glad the whiskey had been drunk. Mr. Tottlesmiled--but it was the smile of despair. When Mr. Gabriel Parsonshad done laughing, he delicately insinuated that, in the absence ofwhiskey, he would not be averse to brandy. And Mr. Watkins Tottle, lighting a flat candle very ostentatiously; and displaying animmense key, which belonged to the street-door, but which, for thesake of appearances, occasionally did duty in an imaginary wine-cellar; left the room to entreat his landlady to charge theirglasses, and charge them in the bill. The application wassuccessful; the spirits were speedily called--not from the vastydeep, but the adjacent wine-vaults. The two short gentlemen mixedtheir grog; and then sat cosily down before the fire--a pair ofshorts, airing themselves. 

'Tottle, ' said Mr. Gabriel Parsons, 'you know my way--off-hand, open, say what I mean, mean what I say, hate reserve, and can'tbear affectation. One, is a bad domino which only hides what goodpeople have about 'em, without making the bad look better; and theother is much about the same thing as pinking a white cottonstocking to make it look like a silk one. Now listen to what I'mgoing to say. '

Here, the little gentleman paused, and took a long pull at hisbrandy-and-water. Mr. Watkins Tottle took a sip of his, stirredthe fire, and assumed an air of profound attention. 

'It's of no use humming and ha'ing about the matter, ' resumed theshort gentleman. --'You want to get married. '

'Why, ' replied Mr. Watkins Tottle evasively; for he trembledviolently, and felt a sudden tingling throughout his whole frame;'why--I should certainly--at least, I THINK I should like--'

'Won't do, ' said the short gentleman. --'Plain and free--or there'san end of the matter. Do you want money?'

'You know I do. '

'You admire the sex?'

'I do. '

'And you'd like to be married?'

'Certainly. '

'Then you shall be. There's an end of that. ' Thus saying, Mr. Gabriel Parsons took a pinch of snuff, and mixed another glass. 

'Let me entreat you to be more explanatory, ' said Tottle. 'Really, as the party principally interested, I cannot consent to bedisposed of, in this way. '

'I'll tell you, ' replied Mr. Gabriel Parsons, warming with thesubject, and the brandy-and-water--'I know a lady--she's stoppingwith my wife now--who is just the thing for you. Well educated;talks French; plays the piano; knows a good deal about flowers, andshells, and all that sort of thing; and has five hundred a year, with an uncontrolled power of disposing of it, by her last will andtestament. '

'I'll pay my addresses to her, ' said Mr. Watkins Tottle. 'Sheisn't VERY young--is she?'

'Not very; just the thing for you. I've said that already. '

'What coloured hair has the lady?' inquired Mr. Watkins Tottle. 

'Egad, I hardly recollect, ' replied Gabriel, with coolness. 'Perhaps I ought to have observed, at first, she wears a front. '

'A what?' ejaculated Tottle. 

'One of those things with curls, along here, ' said Parsons, drawinga straight line across his forehead, just over his eyes, inillustration of his meaning. 'I know the front's black; I can'tspeak quite positively about her own hair; because, unless onewalks behind her, and catches a glimpse of it under her bonnet, oneseldom sees it; but I should say that it was RATHER lighter thanthe front--a shade of a greyish tinge, perhaps. '

Mr. Watkins Tottle looked as if he had certain misgivings of mind. Mr. Gabriel Parsons perceived it, and thought it would be safe tobegin the next attack without delay. 

'Now, were you ever in love, Tottle?' he inquired. 

Mr. Watkins Tottle blushed up to the eyes, and down to the chin, and exhibited a most extensive combination of colours as heconfessed the soft impeachment. 

'I suppose you popped the question, more than once, when you were ayoung--I beg your pardon--a younger--man, ' said Parsons. 

'Never in my life!' replied his friend, apparently indignant atbeing suspected of such an act. 'Never! The fact is, that Ientertain, as you know, peculiar opinions on these subjects. I amnot afraid of ladies, young or old--far from it; but, I think, thatin compliance with the custom of the present day, they allow toomuch freedom of speech and manner to marriageable men. Now, thefact is, that anything like this easy freedom I never couldacquire; and as I am always afraid of going too far, I amgenerally, I dare say, considered formal and cold. '

'I shouldn't wonder if you were, ' replied Parsons, gravely; 'Ishouldn't wonder. However, you'll be all right in this case; forthe strictness and delicacy of this lady's ideas greatly exceedyour own. Lord bless you, why, when she came to our house, therewas an old portrait of some man or other, with two large, black, staring eyes, hanging up in her bedroom; she positively refused togo to bed there, till it was taken down, considering it decidedlywrong. '

'I think so, too, ' said Mr. Watkins Tottle; 'certainly. '

'And then, the other night--I never laughed so much in my life'--resumed Mr. Gabriel Parsons; 'I had driven home in an easterlywind, and caught a devil of a face-ache. Well; as Fanny--that'sMrs. Parsons, you know--and this friend of hers, and I, and FrankRoss, were playing a rubber, I said, jokingly, that when I went tobed I should wrap my head in Fanny's flannel petticoat. Sheinstantly threw up her cards, and left the room. '

'Quite right!' said Mr. Watkins Tottle; 'she could not possiblyhave behaved in a more dignified manner. What did you do?'

'Do?--Frank took dummy; and I won sixpence. '

'But, didn't you apologise for hurting her feelings?'

'Devil a bit. Next morning at breakfast, we talked it over. Shecontended that any reference to a flannel petticoat was improper;--men ought not to be supposed to know that such things were. Ipleaded my coverture; being a married man. '

'And what did the lady say to that?' inquired Tottle, deeplyinterested. 

'Changed her ground, and said that Frank being a single man, itsimpropriety was obvious. '

'Noble-minded creature!' exclaimed the enraptured Tottle. 

'Oh! both Fanny and I said, at once, that she was regularly cut outfor you. '

A gleam of placid satisfaction shone on the circular face of Mr. Watkins Tottle, as he heard the prophecy. 

'There's one thing I can't understand, ' said Mr. Gabriel Parsons, as he rose to depart; 'I cannot, for the life and soul of me, imagine how the deuce you'll ever contrive to come together. Thelady would certainly go into convulsions if the subject werementioned. ' Mr. Gabriel Parsons sat down again, and laughed untilhe was weak. Tottle owed him money, so he had a perfect right tolaugh at Tottle's expense. 

Mr. Watkins Tottle feared, in his own mind, that this was anothercharacteristic which he had in common with this modern Lucretia. He, however, accepted the invitation to dine with the Parsonses onthe next day but one, with great firmness: and looked forward tothe introduction, when again left alone, with tolerable composure. 

The sun that rose on the next day but one, had never beheld asprucer personage on the outside of the Norwood stage, than Mr. Watkins Tottle; and when the coach drew up before a cardboard-looking house with disguised chimneys, and a lawn like a largesheet of green letter-paper, he certainly had never lighted to hisplace of destination a gentleman who felt more uncomfortable. 

The coach stopped, and Mr. Watkins Tottle jumped--we beg hispardon--alighted, with great dignity. 'All right!' said he, andaway went the coach up the hill with that beautiful equanimity ofpace for which 'short' stages are generally remarkable. 

Mr. Watkins Tottle gave a faltering jerk to the handle of thegarden-gate bell. He essayed a more energetic tug, and hisprevious nervousness was not at all diminished by hearing the bellringing like a fire alarum. 

'Is Mr. Parsons at home?' inquired Tottle of the man who opened thegate. He could hardly hear himself speak, for the bell had not yetdone tolling. 

'Here I am, ' shouted a voice on the lawn, --and there was Mr. Gabriel Parsons in a flannel jacket, running backwards andforwards, from a wicket to two hats piled on each other, and fromthe two hats to the wicket, in the most violent manner, whileanother gentleman with his coat off was getting down the area ofthe house, after a ball. When the gentleman without the coat hadfound it--which he did in less than ten minutes--he ran back to thehats, and Gabriel Parsons pulled up. Then, the gentleman withoutthe coat called out 'play, ' very loudly, and bowled. Then Mr. Gabriel Parsons knocked the ball several yards, and took anotherrun. Then, the other gentleman aimed at the wicket, and didn't hitit; and Mr. Gabriel Parsons, having finished running on his ownaccount, laid down the bat and ran after the ball, which went intoa neighbouring field. They called this cricket. 

'Tottle, will you "go in?"' inquired Mr. Gabriel Parsons, as heapproached him, wiping the perspiration off his face. 

Mr. Watkins Tottle declined the offer, the bare idea of acceptingwhich made him even warmer than his friend. 

'Then we'll go into the house, as it's past four, and I shall haveto wash my hands before dinner, ' said Mr. Gabriel Parsons. 'Here, I hate ceremony, you know! Timson, that's Tottle--Tottle, that'sTimson; bred for the church, which I fear will never be bread forhim;' and he chuckled at the old joke. Mr. Timson bowedcarelessly. Mr. Watkins Tottle bowed stiffly. Mr. Gabriel Parsonsled the way to the house. He was a rich sugar-baker, who mistookrudeness for honesty, and abrupt bluntness for an open and candidmanner; many besides Gabriel mistake bluntness for sincerity. 

Mrs. Gabriel Parsons received the visitors most graciously on thesteps, and preceded them to the drawing-room. On the sofa, wasseated a lady of very prim appearance, and remarkably inanimate. She was one of those persons at whose age it is impossible to makeany reasonable guess; her features might have been remarkablypretty when she was younger, and they might always have presentedthe same appearance. Her complexion--with a slight trace of powderhere and there--was as clear as that of a well-made wax doll, andher face as expressive. She was handsomely dressed, and waswinding up a gold watch. 

'Miss Lillerton, my dear, this is our friend Mr. Watkins Tottle; avery old acquaintance I assure you, ' said Mrs. Parsons, presentingthe Strephon of Cecil-street, Strand. The lady rose, and made adeep courtesy; Mr. Watkins Tottle made a bow. 

'Splendid, majestic creature!' thought Tottle. 

Mr. Timson advanced, and Mr. Watkins Tottle began to hate him. Mengenerally discover a rival, instinctively, and Mr. Watkins Tottlefelt that his hate was deserved. 

'May I beg, ' said the reverend gentleman, --'May I beg to call uponyou, Miss Lillerton, for some trifling donation to my soup, coals, and blanket distribution society?'

'Put my name down, for two sovereigns, if you please, ' respondedMiss Lillerton. 

'You are truly charitable, madam, ' said the Reverend Mr. Timson, 'and we know that charity will cover a multitude of sins. Let mebeg you to understand that I do not say this from the suppositionthat you have many sins which require palliation; believe me when Isay that I never yet met any one who had fewer to atone for, thanMiss Lillerton. '

Something like a bad imitation of animation lighted up the lady'sface, as she acknowledged the compliment. Watkins Tottle incurredthe sin of wishing that the ashes of the Reverend Charles Timsonwere quietly deposited in the churchyard of his curacy, wherever itmight be. 

'I'll tell you what, ' interrupted Parsons, who had just appearedwith clean hands, and a black coat, 'it's my private opinion, Timson, that your "distribution society" is rather a humbug. '

'You are so severe, ' replied Timson, with a Christian smile: hedisliked Parsons, but liked his dinners. 

'So positively unjust!' said Miss Lillerton. 

'Certainly, ' observed Tottle. The lady looked up; her eyes metthose of Mr. Watkins Tottle. She withdrew them in a sweetconfusion, and Watkins Tottle did the same--the confusion wasmutual. 

'Why, ' urged Mr. Parsons, pursuing his objections, 'what on earthis the use of giving a man coals who has nothing to cook, or givinghim blankets when he hasn't a bed, or giving him soup when herequires substantial food?--"like sending them ruffles when wantinga shirt. " Why not give 'em a trifle of money, as I do, when Ithink they deserve it, and let them purchase what they think best?Why?--because your subscribers wouldn't see their names flourishingin print on the church-door--that's the reason. '

'Really, Mr. Parsons, I hope you don't mean to insinuate that Iwish to see MY name in print, on the church-door, ' interrupted MissLillerton. 

'I hope not, ' said Mr. Watkins Tottle, putting in another word, andgetting another glance. 

'Certainly not, ' replied Parsons. 'I dare say you wouldn't mindseeing it in writing, though, in the church register--eh?'

'Register! What register?' inquired the lady gravely. 

'Why, the register of marriages, to be sure, ' replied Parsons, chuckling at the sally, and glancing at Tottle. Mr. Watkins Tottlethought he should have fainted for shame, and it is quiteimpossible to imagine what effect the joke would have had upon thelady, if dinner had not been, at that moment, announced. Mr. Watkins Tottle, with an unprecedented effort of gallantry, offeredthe tip of his little finger; Miss Lillerton accepted itgracefully, with maiden modesty; and they proceeded in due state tothe dinner-table, where they were soon deposited side by side. Theroom was very snug, the dinner very good, and the little party inspirits. The conversation became pretty general, and when Mr. Watkins Tottle had extracted one or two cold observations from hisneighbour, and had taken wine with her, he began to acquireconfidence rapidly. The cloth was removed; Mrs. Gabriel Parsonsdrank four glasses of port on the plea of being a nurse just then;and Miss Lillerton took about the same number of sips, on the pleaof not wanting any at all. At length, the ladies retired, to thegreat gratification of Mr. Gabriel Parsons, who had been coughingand frowning at his wife, for half-an-hour previously--signalswhich Mrs. Parsons never happened to observe, until she had beenpressed to take her ordinary quantum, which, to avoid givingtrouble, she generally did at once. 

'What do you think of her?' inquired Mr. Gabriel Parsons of Mr. Watkins Tottle, in an under-tone. 

'I dote on her with enthusiasm already!' replied Mr. WatkinsTottle. 

'Gentlemen, pray let us drink "the ladies, "' said the Reverend Mr. Timson. 

'The ladies!' said Mr. Watkins Tottle, emptying his glass. In thefulness of his confidence, he felt as if he could make love to adozen ladies, off-hand. 

'Ah!' said Mr. Gabriel Parsons, 'I remember when I was a young man--fill your glass, Timson. '

'I have this moment emptied it. '

'Then fill again. '

'I will, ' said Timson, suiting the action to the word. 

'I remember, ' resumed Mr. Gabriel Parsons, 'when I was a youngerman, with what a strange compound of feelings I used to drink thattoast, and how I used to think every woman was an angel. '

'Was that before you were married?' mildly inquired Mr. WatkinsTottle. 

'Oh! certainly, ' replied Mr. Gabriel Parsons. 'I have neverthought so since; and a precious milksop I must have been, ever tohave thought so at all. But, you know, I married Fanny under theoddest, and most ridiculous circumstances possible. '

'What were they, if one may inquire?' asked Timson, who had heardthe story, on an average, twice a week for the last six months. Mr. Watkins Tottle listened attentively, in the hope of picking upsome suggestion that might be useful to him in his new undertaking. 

'I spent my wedding-night in a back-kitchen chimney, ' said Parsons, by way of a beginning. 

'In a back-kitchen chimney!' ejaculated Watkins Tottle. 'Howdreadful!'

'Yes, it wasn't very pleasant, ' replied the small host. 'The factis, Fanny's father and mother liked me well enough as anindividual, but had a decided objection to my becoming a husband. You see, I hadn't any money in those days, and they had; and sothey wanted Fanny to pick up somebody else. However, we managed todiscover the state of each other's affections somehow. I used tomeet her, at some mutual friends' parties; at first we dancedtogether, and talked, and flirted, and all that sort of thing;then, I used to like nothing so well as sitting by her side--wedidn't talk so much then, but I remember I used to have a greatnotion of looking at her out of the extreme corner of my left eye--and then I got very miserable and sentimental, and began to writeverses, and use Macassar oil. At last I couldn't bear it anylonger, and after I had walked up and down the sunny side ofOxford-street in tight boots for a week--and a devilish hot summerit was too--in the hope of meeting her, I sat down and wrote aletter, and begged her to manage to see me clandestinely, for Iwanted to hear her decision from her own mouth. I said I haddiscovered, to my perfect satisfaction, that I couldn't livewithout her, and that if she didn't have me, I had made up my mindto take prussic acid, or take to drinking, or emigrate, so as totake myself off in some way or other. Well, I borrowed a pound, and bribed the housemaid to give her the note, which she did. '

'And what was the reply?' inquired Timson, who had found, before, that to encourage the repetition of old stories is to get a generalinvitation. 

'Oh, the usual one! Fanny expressed herself very miserable; hintedat the possibility of an early grave; said that nothing shouldinduce her to swerve from the duty she owed her parents; imploredme to forget her, and find out somebody more deserving, and allthat sort of thing. She said she could, on no account, think ofmeeting me unknown to her pa and ma; and entreated me, as sheshould be in a particular part of Kensington Gardens at eleveno'clock next morning, not to attempt to meet her there. '

'You didn't go, of course?' said Watkins Tottle. 

'Didn't I?--Of course I did. There she was, with the identicalhousemaid in perspective, in order that there might be nointerruption. We walked about, for a couple of hours; madeourselves delightfully miserable; and were regularly engaged. Then, we began to "correspond"--that is to say, we used to exchangeabout four letters a day; what we used to say in 'em I can'timagine. And I used to have an interview, in the kitchen, or thecellar, or some such place, every evening. Well, things went on inthis way for some time; and we got fonder of each other every day. At last, as our love was raised to such a pitch, and as my salaryhad been raised too, shortly before, we determined on a secretmarriage. Fanny arranged to sleep at a friend's, on the previousnight; we were to be married early in the morning; and then we wereto return to her home and be pathetic. She was to fall at the oldgentleman's feet, and bathe his boots with her tears; and I was tohug the old lady and call her "mother, " and use my pocket-handkerchief as much as possible. Married we were, the nextmorning; two girls-friends of Fanny's--acting as bridesmaids; and aman, who was hired for five shillings and a pint of porter, officiating as father. Now, the old lady unfortunately put off herreturn from Ramsgate, where she had been paying a visit, until thenext morning; and as we placed great reliance on her, we agreed topostpone our confession for four-and-twenty hours. My newly-madewife returned home, and I spent my wedding-day in strolling aboutHampstead-heath, and execrating my father-in-law. Of course, Iwent to comfort my dear little wife at night, as much as I could, with the assurance that our troubles would soon be over. I openedthe garden-gate, of which I had a key, and was shown by the servantto our old place of meeting--a back kitchen, with a stone-floor anda dresser: upon which, in the absence of chairs, we used to sitand make love. '

'Make love upon a kitchen-dresser!' interrupted Mr. Watkins Tottle, whose ideas of decorum were greatly outraged. 

'Ah! On a kitchen-dresser!' replied Parsons. 'And let me tellyou, old fellow, that, if you were really over head-and-ears inlove, and had no other place to make love in, you'd be devilishglad to avail yourself of such an opportunity. However, let mesee;--where was I?'

'On the dresser, ' suggested Timson. 

'Oh--ah! Well, here I found poor Fanny, quite disconsolate anduncomfortable. The old boy had been very cross all day, which madeher feel still more lonely; and she was quite out of spirits. So, I put a good face on the matter, and laughed it off, and said weshould enjoy the pleasures of a matrimonial life more by contrast;and, at length, poor Fanny brightened up a little. I stoppedthere, till about eleven o'clock, and, just as I was taking myleave for the fourteenth time, the girl came running down thestairs, without her shoes, in a great fright, to tell us that theold villain--Heaven forgive me for calling him so, for he is deadand gone now!--prompted I suppose by the prince of darkness, wascoming down, to draw his own beer for supper--a thing he had notdone before, for six months, to my certain knowledge; for the caskstood in that very back kitchen. If he discovered me there, explanation would have been out of the question; for he was sooutrageously violent, when at all excited, that he never would havelistened to me. There was only one thing to be done. The chimneywas a very wide one; it had been originally built for an oven; wentup perpendicularly for a few feet, and then shot backward andformed a sort of small cavern. My hopes and fortune--the means ofour joint existence almost--were at stake. I scrambled in like asquirrel; coiled myself up in this recess; and, as Fanny and thegirl replaced the deal chimney-board, I could see the light of thecandle which my unconscious father-in-law carried in his hand. Iheard him draw the beer; and I never heard beer run so slowly. Hewas just leaving the kitchen, and I was preparing to descend, whendown came the infernal chimney-board with a tremendous crash. Hestopped and put down the candle and the jug of beer on the dresser;he was a nervous old fellow, and any unexpected noise annoyed him. He coolly observed that the fire-place was never used, and sendingthe frightened servant into the next kitchen for a hammer andnails, actually nailed up the board, and locked the door on theoutside. So, there was I, on my wedding-night, in the lightkerseymere trousers, fancy waistcoat, and blue coat, that I hadbeen married in in the morning, in a back-kitchen chimney, thebottom of which was nailed up, and the top of which had beenformerly raised some fifteen feet, to prevent the smoke fromannoying the neighbours. And there, ' added Mr. Gabriel Parsons, ashe passed the bottle, 'there I remained till half-past seven thenext morning, when the housemaid's sweetheart, who was a carpenter, unshelled me. The old dog had nailed me up so securely, that, tothis very hour, I firmly believe that no one but a carpenter couldever have got me out. '

'And what did Mrs. Parsons's father say, when he found you weremarried?' inquired Watkins Tottle, who, although he never saw ajoke, was not satisfied until he heard a story to the very end. 

'Why, the affair of the chimney so tickled his fancy, that hepardoned us off-hand, and allowed us something to live on till hewent the way of all flesh. I spent the next night in his second-floor front, much more comfortably than I had spent the precedingone; for, as you will probably guess--'

'Please, sir, missis has made tea, ' said a middle-aged femaleservant, bobbing into the room. 

'That's the very housemaid that figures in my story, ' said Mr. Gabriel Parsons. 'She went into Fanny's service when we were firstmarried, and has been with us ever since; but I don't think she hasfelt one atom of respect for me since the morning she saw mereleased, when she went into violent hysterics, to which she hasbeen subject ever since. Now, shall we join the ladies?'

'If you please, ' said Mr. Watkins Tottle. 

'By all means, ' added the obsequious Mr. Timson; and the trio madefor the drawing-room accordingly. 

Tea being concluded, and the toast and cups having been dulyhanded, and occasionally upset, by Mr. Watkins Tottle, a rubber wasproposed. They cut for partners--Mr. And Mrs. Parsons; and Mr. Watkins Tottle and Miss Lillerton. Mr. Timson having conscientiousscruples on the subject of card-playing, drank brandy-and-water, and kept up a running spar with Mr. Watkins Tottle. The eveningwent off well; Mr. Watkins Tottle was in high spirits, having somereason to be gratified with his reception by Miss Lillerton; andbefore he left, a small party was made up to visit the Beulah Spaon the following Saturday. 

'It's all right, I think, ' said Mr. Gabriel Parsons to Mr. WatkinsTottle as he opened the garden gate for him. 

'I hope so, ' he replied, squeezing his friend's hand. 

'You'll be down by the first coach on Saturday, ' said Mr. GabrielParsons. 

'Certainly, ' replied Mr. Watkins Tottle. 'Undoubtedly. '

But fortune had decreed that Mr. Watkins Tottle should not be downby the first coach on Saturday. His adventures on that day, however, and the success of his wooing, are subjects for anotherchapter. 

CHAPTER THE SECOND

'The first coach has not come in yet, has it, Tom?' inquired Mr. Gabriel Parsons, as he very complacently paced up and down thefourteen feet of gravel which bordered the 'lawn, ' on the Saturdaymorning which had been fixed upon for the Beulah Spa jaunt. 

'No, sir; I haven't seen it, ' replied a gardener in a blue apron, who let himself out to do the ornamental for half-a-crown a day andhis 'keep. '

'Time Tottle was down, ' said Mr. Gabriel Parsons, ruminating--'Oh, here he is, no doubt, ' added Gabriel, as a cab drove rapidly up thehill; and he buttoned his dressing-gown, and opened the gate toreceive the expected visitor. The cab stopped, and out jumped aman in a coarse Petersham great-coat, whity-brown neckerchief, faded black suit, gamboge-coloured top-boots, and one of thoselarge-crowned hats, formerly seldom met with, but now verygenerally patronised by gentlemen and costermongers. 

'Mr. Parsons?' said the man, looking at the superscription of anote he held in his hand, and addressing Gabriel with an inquiringair. 

'MY name is Parsons, ' responded the sugar-baker. 

'I've brought this here note, ' replied the individual in thepainted tops, in a hoarse whisper: 'I've brought this here notefrom a gen'lm'n as come to our house this mornin'. '

'I expected the gentleman at my house, ' said Parsons, as he brokethe seal, which bore the impression of her Majesty's profile as itis seen on a sixpence. 

'I've no doubt the gen'lm'n would ha' been here, replied thestranger, 'if he hadn't happened to call at our house first; but wenever trusts no gen'lm'n furder nor we can see him--no mistakeabout that there'--added the unknown, with a facetious grin; 'begyour pardon, sir, no offence meant, only--once in, and I wish youmay--catch the idea, sir?'

Mr. Gabriel Parsons was not remarkable for catching anythingsuddenly, but a cold. He therefore only bestowed a glance ofprofound astonishment on his mysterious companion, and proceeded tounfold the note of which he had been the bearer. Once opened andthe idea was caught with very little difficulty. Mr. WatkinsTottle had been suddenly arrested for 33l. 10s. 4d. , and dated hiscommunication from a lock-up house in the vicinity of Chancery-lane. 

'Unfortunate affair this!' said Parsons, refolding the note. 

'Oh! nothin' ven you're used to it, ' coolly observed the man in thePetersham. 

'Tom!' exclaimed Parsons, after a few minutes' consideration, 'justput the horse in, will you?--Tell the gentleman that I shall bethere almost as soon as you are, ' he continued, addressing thesheriff-officer's Mercury. 

'Werry well, ' replied that important functionary; adding, in aconfidential manner, 'I'd adwise the gen'lm'n's friends to settle. You see it's a mere trifle; and, unless the gen'lm'n means to go upafore the court, it's hardly worth while waiting for detainers, youknow. Our governor's wide awake, he is. I'll never say nothin'agin him, nor no man; but he knows what's o'clock, he does, uncommon. ' Having delivered this eloquent, and, to Parsons, particularly intelligible harangue, the meaning of which was ekedout by divers nods and winks, the gentleman in the boots reseatedhimself in the cab, which went rapidly off, and was soon out ofsight. Mr. Gabriel Parsons continued to pace up and down thepathway for some minutes, apparently absorbed in deep meditation. The result of his cogitations seemed to be perfectly satisfactoryto himself, for he ran briskly into the house; said that businesshad suddenly summoned him to town; that he had desired themessenger to inform Mr. Watkins Tottle of the fact; and that theywould return together to dinner. He then hastily equipped himselffor a drive, and mounting his gig, was soon on his way to theestablishment of Mr. Solomon Jacobs, situate (as Mr. Watkins Tottlehad informed him) in Cursitor-street, Chancery-lane. 

When a man is in a violent hurry to get on, and has a specificobject in view, the attainment of which depends on the completionof his journey, the difficulties which interpose themselves in hisway appear not only to be innumerable, but to have been called intoexistence especially for the occasion. The remark is by no means anew one, and Mr. Gabriel Parsons had practical and painfulexperience of its justice in the course of his drive. There arethree classes of animated objects which prevent your driving withany degree of comfort or celerity through streets which are butlittle frequented--they are pigs, children, and old women. On theoccasion we are describing, the pigs were luxuriating on cabbage-stalks, and the shuttlecocks fluttered from the little dealbattledores, and the children played in the road; and women, with abasket in one hand, and the street-door key in the other, WOULDcross just before the horse's head, until Mr. Gabriel Parsons wasperfectly savage with vexation, and quite hoarse with hoi-ing andimprecating. Then, when he got into Fleet-street, there was 'astoppage, ' in which people in vehicles have the satisfaction ofremaining stationary for half an hour, and envying the slowestpedestrians; and where policemen rush about, and seize hold ofhorses' bridles, and back them into shop-windows, by way ofclearing the road and preventing confusion. At length Mr. GabrielParsons turned into Chancery-lane, and having inquired for, andbeen directed to Cursitor-street (for it was a locality of which hewas quite ignorant), he soon found himself opposite the house ofMr. Solomon Jacobs. Confiding his horse and gig to the care of oneof the fourteen boys who had followed him from the other side ofBlackfriars-bridge on the chance of his requiring their services, Mr. Gabriel Parsons crossed the road and knocked at an inner door, the upper part of which was of glass, grated like the windows ofthis inviting mansion with iron bars--painted white to lookcomfortable. 

The knock was answered by a sallow-faced, red-haired, sulky boy, who, after surveying Mr. Gabriel Parsons through the glass, applieda large key to an immense wooden excrescence, which was in realitya lock, but which, taken in conjunction with the iron nails withwhich the panels were studded, gave the door the appearance ofbeing subject to warts. 

'I want to see Mr. Watkins Tottle, ' said Parsons. 

'It's the gentleman that come in this morning, Jem, ' screamed avoice from the top of the kitchen-stairs, which belonged to a dirtywoman who had just brought her chin to a level with the passage-floor. 'The gentleman's in the coffee-room. '

'Up-stairs, sir, ' said the boy, just opening the door wide enoughto let Parsons in without squeezing him, and double-locking it themoment he had made his way through the aperture--'First floor--dooron the left. '

Mr. Gabriel Parsons thus instructed, ascended the uncarpeted andill-lighted staircase, and after giving several subdued taps at thebefore-mentioned 'door on the left, ' which were rendered inaudibleby the hum of voices within the room, and the hissing noiseattendant on some frying operations which were carrying on belowstairs, turned the handle, and entered the apartment. Beinginformed that the unfortunate object of his visit had just gone up-stairs to write a letter, he had leisure to sit down and observethe scene before him. 

The room--which was a small, confined den--was partitioned off intoboxes, like the common-room of some inferior eating-house. Thedirty floor had evidently been as long a stranger to the scrubbing-brush as to carpet or floor-cloth: and the ceiling was completelyblackened by the flare of the oil-lamp by which the room waslighted at night. The gray ashes on the edges of the tables, andthe cigar ends which were plentifully scattered about the dustygrate, fully accounted for the intolerable smell of tobacco whichpervaded the place; and the empty glasses and half-saturated slicesof lemon on the tables, together with the porter pots beneath them, bore testimony to the frequent libations in which the individualswho honoured Mr. Solomon Jacobs by a temporary residence in hishouse indulged. Over the mantel-shelf was a paltry looking-glass, extending about half the width of the chimney-piece; but by way ofcounterpoise, the ashes were confined by a rusty fender about twiceas long as the hearth. 

From this cheerful room itself, the attention of Mr. GabrielParsons was naturally directed to its inmates. In one of the boxestwo men were playing at cribbage with a very dirty pack of cards, some with blue, some with green, and some with red backs--selections from decayed packs. The cribbage board had been longago formed on the table by some ingenious visitor with theassistance of a pocket-knife and a two-pronged fork, with which thenecessary number of holes had been made in the table at properdistances for the reception of the wooden pegs. In another box astout, hearty-looking man, of about forty, was eating some dinnerwhich his wife--an equally comfortable-looking personage--hadbrought him in a basket: and in a third, a genteel-looking youngman was talking earnestly, and in a low tone, to a young female, whose face was concealed by a thick veil, but whom Mr. GabrielParsons immediately set down in his own mind as the debtor's wife. A young fellow of vulgar manners, dressed in the very extreme ofthe prevailing fashion, was pacing up and down the room, with alighted cigar in his mouth and his hands in his pockets, ever andanon puffing forth volumes of smoke, and occasionally applying, with much apparent relish, to a pint pot, the contents of whichwere 'chilling' on the hob. 

'Fourpence more, by gum!' exclaimed one of the cribbage-players, lighting a pipe, and addressing his adversary at the close of thegame; 'one 'ud think you'd got luck in a pepper-cruet, and shook itout when you wanted it. '

'Well, that a'n't a bad un, ' replied the other, who was a horse-dealer from Islington. 

'No; I'm blessed if it is, ' interposed the jolly-looking fellow, who, having finished his dinner, was drinking out of the same glassas his wife, in truly conjugal harmony, some hot gin-and-water. The faithful partner of his cares had brought a plentiful supply ofthe anti-temperance fluid in a large flat stone bottle, whichlooked like a half-gallon jar that had been successfully tapped forthe dropsy. 'You're a rum chap, you are, Mr. Walker--will you dipyour beak into this, sir?'

'Thank'ee, sir, ' replied Mr. Walker, leaving his box, and advancingto the other to accept the proffered glass. 'Here's your health, sir, and your good 'ooman's here. Gentlemen all--yours, and betterluck still. Well, Mr. Willis, ' continued the facetious prisoner, addressing the young man with the cigar, 'you seem rather down to-day--floored, as one may say. What's the matter, sir? Never saydie, you know. '

'Oh! I'm all right, ' replied the smoker. 'I shall be bailed outto-morrow. '

'Shall you, though?' inquired the other. 'Damme, I wish I couldsay the same. I am as regularly over head and ears as the RoyalGeorge, and stand about as much chance of being BAILED OUT. Ha!ha! ha!'

'Why, ' said the young man, stopping short, and speaking in a veryloud key, 'look at me. What d'ye think I've stopped here two daysfor?'

''Cause you couldn't get out, I suppose, ' interrupted Mr. Walker, winking to the company. 'Not that you're exactly obliged to stophere, only you can't help it. No compulsion, you know, only youmust--eh?'

'A'n't he a rum un?' inquired the delighted individual, who hadoffered the gin-and-water, of his wife. 

'Oh, he just is!' replied the lady, who was quite overcome by theseflashes of imagination. 

'Why, my case, ' frowned the victim, throwing the end of his cigarinto the fire, and illustrating his argument by knocking the bottomof the pot on the table, at intervals, --'my case is a very singularone. My father's a man of large property, and I am his son. '

'That's a very strange circumstance!' interrupted the jocose Mr. Walker, en passant. 

'--I am his son, and have received a liberal education. I don'towe no man nothing--not the value of a farthing, but I was induced, you see, to put my name to some bills for a friend--bills to alarge amount, I may say a very large amount, for which I didn'treceive no consideration. What's the consequence?'

'Why, I suppose the bills went out, and you came in. Theacceptances weren't taken up, and you were, eh?' inquired Walker. 

'To be sure, ' replied the liberally educated young gentleman. 'Tobe sure; and so here I am, locked up for a matter of twelve hundredpound. '

'Why don't you ask your old governor to stump up?' inquired Walker, with a somewhat sceptical air. 

'Oh! bless you, he'd never do it, ' replied the other, in a tone ofexpostulation--'Never!'

'Well, it is very odd to--be--sure, ' interposed the owner of theflat bottle, mixing another glass, 'but I've been in difficulties, as one may say, now for thirty year. I went to pieces when I wasin a milk-walk, thirty year ago; arterwards, when I was afruiterer, and kept a spring wan; and arter that again in the coaland 'tatur line--but all that time I never see a youngish chap comeinto a place of this kind, who wasn't going out again directly, andwho hadn't been arrested on bills which he'd given a friend and forwhich he'd received nothing whatsomever--not a fraction. '

'Oh! it's always the cry, ' said Walker. 'I can't see the use onit; that's what makes me so wild. Why, I should have a much betteropinion of an individual, if he'd say at once in an honourable andgentlemanly manner as he'd done everybody he possibly could. '

'Ay, to be sure, ' interposed the horse-dealer, with whose notionsof bargain and sale the axiom perfectly coincided, 'so should I. 'The young gentleman, who had given rise to these observations, wason the point of offering a rather angry reply to these sneers, butthe rising of the young man before noticed, and of the female whohad been sitting by him, to leave the room, interrupted theconversation. She had been weeping bitterly, and the noxiousatmosphere of the room acting upon her excited feelings anddelicate frame, rendered the support of her companion necessary asthey quitted it together. 

There was an air of superiority about them both, and something intheir appearance so unusual in such a place, that a respectfulsilence was observed until the WHIRR--R--BANG of the spring doorannounced that they were out of hearing. It was broken by the wifeof the ex-fruiterer. 

'Poor creetur!' said she, quenching a sigh in a rivulet of gin-and-water. 'She's very young. '

'She's a nice-looking 'ooman too, ' added the horse-dealer. 

'What's he in for, Ikey?' inquired Walker, of an individual who wasspreading a cloth with numerous blotches of mustard upon it, on oneof the tables, and whom Mr. Gabriel Parsons had no difficulty inrecognising as the man who had called upon him in the morning. 

'Vy, ' responded the factotum, 'it's one of the rummiest rigs youever heard on. He come in here last Vensday, which by-the-bye he'sa-going over the water to-night--hows'ever that's neither here northere. You see I've been a going back'ards and for'ards about hisbusiness, and ha' managed to pick up some of his story from theservants and them; and so far as I can make it out, it seems to besummat to this here effect--'

'Cut it short, old fellow, ' interrupted Walker, who knew fromformer experience that he of the top-boots was neither very concisenor intelligible in his narratives. 

'Let me alone, ' replied Ikey, 'and I'll ha' wound up, and made mylucky in five seconds. This here young gen'lm'n's father--so I'mtold, mind ye--and the father o' the young voman, have always beenon very bad, out-and-out, rig'lar knock-me-down sort o' terms; butsomehow or another, when he was a wisitin' at some gentlefolk'shouse, as he knowed at college, he came into contract with theyoung lady. He seed her several times, and then he up and saidhe'd keep company with her, if so be as she vos agreeable. Vell, she vos as sweet upon him as he vos upon her, and so I s'pose theymade it all right; for they got married 'bout six monthsarterwards, unbeknown, mind ye, to the two fathers--leastways soI'm told. When they heard on it--my eyes, there was such acombustion! Starvation vos the very least that vos to be done to'em. The young gen'lm'n's father cut him off vith a bob, 'cos he'dcut himself off vith a wife; and the young lady's father he behavedeven worser and more unnat'ral, for he not only blow'd her updreadful, and swore he'd never see her again, but he employed achap as I knows--and as you knows, Mr. Valker, a precious sight toowell--to go about and buy up the bills and them things on which theyoung husband, thinking his governor 'ud come round agin, hadraised the vind just to blow himself on vith for a time; besidesvich, he made all the interest he could to set other people aginhim. Consequence vos, that he paid as long as he could; but thingshe never expected to have to meet till he'd had time to turnhimself round, come fast upon him, and he vos nabbed. He vosbrought here, as I said afore, last Vensday, and I think there'sabout--ah, half-a-dozen detainers agin him down-stairs now. I havebeen, ' added Ikey, 'in the purfession these fifteen year, and Inever met vith such windictiveness afore!'

'Poor creeturs!' exclaimed the coal-dealer's wife once more: againresorting to the same excellent prescription for nipping a sigh inthe bud. 'Ah! when they've seen as much trouble as I and my oldman here have, they'll be as comfortable under it as we are. '

'The young lady's a pretty creature, ' said Walker, 'only she's alittle too delicate for my taste--there ain't enough of her. As tothe young cove, he may be very respectable and what not, but he'stoo down in the mouth for me--he ain't game. '

'Game!' exclaimed Ikey, who had been altering the position of agreen-handled knife and fork at least a dozen times, in order thathe might remain in the room under the pretext of having somethingto do. 'He's game enough ven there's anything to be fierce about;but who could be game as you call it, Mr. Walker, with a pale youngcreetur like that, hanging about him?--It's enough to drive anyman's heart into his boots to see 'em together--and no mistake atall about it. I never shall forget her first comin' here; he wroteto her on the Thursday to come--I know he did, 'cos I took theletter. Uncommon fidgety he was all day to be sure, and in theevening he goes down into the office, and he says to Jacobs, sayshe, "Sir, can I have the loan of a private room for a few minutesthis evening, without incurring any additional expense--just to seemy wife in?" says he. Jacobs looked as much as to say--"Strike mebountiful if you ain't one of the modest sort!" but as the gen'lm'nwho had been in the back parlour had just gone out, and had paidfor it for that day, he says--werry grave--"Sir, " says he, "it'sagin our rules to let private rooms to our lodgers on gratis terms, but, " says he, "for a gentleman, I don't mind breaking through themfor once. " So then he turns round to me, and says, "Ikey, put twomould candles in the back parlour, and charge 'em to thisgen'lm'n's account, " vich I did. Vell, by-and-by a hackney-coachcomes up to the door, and there, sure enough, was the young lady, wrapped up in a hopera-cloak, as it might be, and all alone. Iopened the gate that night, so I went up when the coach come, andhe vos a waitin' at the parlour door--and wasn't he a trembling, neither? The poor creetur see him, and could hardly walk to meethim. "Oh, Harry!" she says, "that it should have come to this; andall for my sake, " says she, putting her hand upon his shoulder. Sohe puts his arm round her pretty little waist, and leading hergently a little way into the room, so that he might be able to shutthe door, he says, so kind and soft-like--"Why, Kate, " says he--'

'Here's the gentleman you want, ' said Ikey, abruptly breaking offin his story, and introducing Mr. Gabriel Parsons to the crest-fallen Watkins Tottle, who at that moment entered the room. Watkins advanced with a wooden expression of passive endurance, andaccepted the hand which Mr. Gabriel Parsons held out. 

'I want to speak to you, ' said Gabriel, with a look stronglyexpressive of his dislike of the company. 

'This way, ' replied the imprisoned one, leading the way to thefront drawing-room, where rich debtors did the luxurious at therate of a couple of guineas a day. 

'Well, here I am, ' said Mr. Watkins, as he sat down on the sofa;and placing the palms of his hands on his knees, anxiously glancedat his friend's countenance. 

'Yes; and here you're likely to be, ' said Gabriel, coolly, as herattled the money in his unmentionable pockets, and looked out ofthe window. 

'What's the amount with the costs?' inquired Parsons, after anawkward pause. 

'Have you any money?'

'Nine and sixpence halfpenny. '

Mr. Gabriel Parsons walked up and down the room for a few seconds, before he could make up his mind to disclose the plan he hadformed; he was accustomed to drive hard bargains, but was alwaysmost anxious to conceal his avarice. At length he stopped short, and said, 'Tottle, you owe me fifty pounds. '

'I do. '

'And from all I see, I infer that you are likely to owe it to me. '

'I fear I am. '

'Though you have every disposition to pay me if you could?'

'Certainly. '

'Then, ' said Mr. Gabriel Parsons, 'listen: here's my proposition. You know my way of old. Accept it--yes or no--I will or I won't. I'll pay the debt and costs, and I'll lend you 10l. More (which, added to your annuity, will enable you to carry on the war well) ifyou'll give me your note of hand to pay me one hundred and fiftypounds within six months after you are married to Miss Lillerton. '

'My dear--'

'Stop a minute--on one condition; and that is, that you propose toMiss Lillerton at once. '

'At once! My dear Parsons, consider. '

'It's for you to consider, not me. She knows you well fromreputation, though she did not know you personally until lately. Notwithstanding all her maiden modesty, I think she'd be devilishglad to get married out of hand with as little delay as possible. My wife has sounded her on the subject, and she has confessed. '

'What--what?' eagerly interrupted the enamoured Watkins. 

'Why, ' replied Parsons, 'to say exactly what she has confessed, would be rather difficult, because they only spoke in hints, and soforth; but my wife, who is no bad judge in these cases, declared tome that what she had confessed was as good as to say that she wasnot insensible of your merits--in fact, that no other man shouldhave her. '

Mr. Watkins Tottle rose hastily from his seat, and rang the bell. 

'What's that for?' inquired Parsons. 

'I want to send the man for the bill stamp, ' replied Mr. WatkinsTottle. 

'Then you've made up your mind?'

'I have, '--and they shook hands most cordially. The note of handwas given--the debt and costs were paid--Ikey was satisfied for histrouble, and the two friends soon found themselves on that side ofMr. Solomon Jacobs's establishment, on which most of his visitorswere very happy when they found themselves once again--to wit, theOUTside. 

'Now, ' said Mr. Gabriel Parsons, as they drove to Norwood together--'you shall have an opportunity to make the disclosure to-night, and mind you speak out, Tottle. '

'I will--I will!' replied Watkins, valorously. 

'How I should like to see you together, ' ejaculated Mr. GabrielParsons. --'What fun!' and he laughed so long and so loudly, that hedisconcerted Mr. Watkins Tottle, and frightened the horse. 

'There's Fanny and your intended walking about on the lawn, ' saidGabriel, as they approached the house. 'Mind your eye, Tottle. '

'Never fear, ' replied Watkins, resolutely, as he made his way tothe spot where the ladies were walking. 

'Here's Mr. Tottle, my dear, ' said Mrs. Parsons, addressing MissLillerton. The lady turned quickly round, and acknowledged hiscourteous salute with the same sort of confusion that Watkins hadnoticed on their first interview, but with something like a slightexpression of disappointment or carelessness. 

'Did you see how glad she was to see you?' whispered Parsons to hisfriend. 

'Why, I really thought she looked as if she would rather have seensomebody else, ' replied Tottle. 

'Pooh, nonsense!' whispered Parsons again--'it's always the waywith the women, young or old. They never show how delighted theyare to see those whose presence makes their hearts beat. It's theway with the whole sex, and no man should have lived to your timeof life without knowing it. Fanny confessed it to me, when we werefirst married, over and over again--see what it is to have a wife. '

'Certainly, ' whispered Tottle, whose courage was vanishing fast. 

'Well, now, you'd better begin to pave the way, ' said Parsons, who, having invested some money in the speculation, assumed the officeof director. 

'Yes, yes, I will--presently, ' replied Tottle, greatly flurried. 

'Say something to her, man, ' urged Parsons again. 'Confound it!pay her a compliment, can't you?'

'No! not till after dinner, ' replied the bashful Tottle, anxious topostpone the evil moment. 

'Well, gentlemen, ' said Mrs. Parsons, 'you are really very polite;you stay away the whole morning, after promising to take us out, and when you do come home, you stand whispering together and takeno notice of us. '

'We were talking of the BUSINESS, my dear, which detained us thismorning, ' replied Parsons, looking significantly at Tottle. 

'Dear me! how very quickly the morning has gone, ' said MissLillerton, referring to the gold watch, which was wound up on stateoccasions, whether it required it or not. 

'I think it has passed very slowly, ' mildly suggested Tottle. 

('That's right--bravo!') whispered Parsons. 

'Indeed!' said Miss Lillerton, with an air of majestic surprise. 

'I can only impute it to my unavoidable absence from your society, madam, ' said Watkins, 'and that of Mrs. Parsons. '

During this short dialogue, the ladies had been leading the way tothe house. 

'What the deuce did you stick Fanny into that last compliment for?'inquired Parsons, as they followed together; 'it quite spoilt theeffect. '

'Oh! it really would have been too broad without, ' replied WatkinsTottle, 'much too broad!'

'He's mad!' Parsons whispered his wife, as they entered thedrawing-room, 'mad from modesty. '

'Dear me!' ejaculated the lady, 'I never heard of such a thing. '

'You'll find we have quite a family dinner, Mr. Tottle, ' said Mrs. Parsons, when they sat down to table: 'Miss Lillerton is one ofus, and, of course, we make no stranger of you. '

Mr. Watkins Tottle expressed a hope that the Parsons family neverwould make a stranger of him; and wished internally that hisbashfulness would allow him to feel a little less like a strangerhimself. 

'Take off the covers, Martha, ' said Mrs. Parsons, directing theshifting of the scenery with great anxiety. The order was obeyed, and a pair of boiled fowls, with tongue and et ceteras, weredisplayed at the top, and a fillet of veal at the bottom. On oneside of the table two green sauce-tureens, with ladles of the same, were setting to each other in a green dish; and on the other was acurried rabbit, in a brown suit, turned up with lemon. 

'Miss Lillerton, my dear, ' said Mrs. Parsons, 'shall I assist you?'

'Thank you, no; I think I'll trouble Mr. Tottle. '

Watkins started--trembled--helped the rabbit--and broke a tumbler. The countenance of the lady of the house, which had been all smilespreviously, underwent an awful change. 

'Extremely sorry, ' stammered Watkins, assisting himself to currieand parsley and butter, in the extremity of his confusion. 

'Not the least consequence, ' replied Mrs. Parsons, in a tone whichimplied that it was of the greatest consequence possible, --directing aside the researches of the boy, who was groping underthe table for the bits of broken glass. 

'I presume, ' said Miss Lillerton, 'that Mr. Tottle is aware of theinterest which bachelors usually pay in such cases; a dozen glassesfor one is the lowest penalty. '

Mr. Gabriel Parsons gave his friend an admonitory tread on the toe. Here was a clear hint that the sooner he ceased to be a bachelorand emancipated himself from such penalties, the better. Mr. Watkins Tottle viewed the observation in the same light, andchallenged Mrs. Parsons to take wine, with a degree of presence ofmind, which, under all the circumstances, was really extraordinary. 

'Miss Lillerton, ' said Gabriel, 'may I have the pleasure?'

'I shall be most happy. '

'Tottle, will you assist Miss Lillerton, and pass the decanter. Thank you. ' (The usual pantomimic ceremony of nodding and sippinggone through) -

'Tottle, were you ever in Suffolk?' inquired the master of thehouse, who was burning to tell one of his seven stock stories. 

'No, ' responded Watkins, adding, by way of a saving clause, 'butI've been in Devonshire. '

'Ah!' replied Gabriel, 'it was in Suffolk that a rather singularcircumstance happened to me many years ago. Did you ever happen tohear me mention it?'

Mr. Watkins Tottle HAD happened to hear his friend mention it somefour hundred times. Of course he expressed great curiosity, andevinced the utmost impatience to hear the story again. Mr. GabrielParsons forthwith attempted to proceed, in spite of theinterruptions to which, as our readers must frequently haveobserved, the master of the house is often exposed in such cases. We will attempt to give them an idea of our meaning. 

'When I was in Suffolk--' said Mr. Gabriel Parsons. 

'Take off the fowls first, Martha, ' said Mrs. Parsons. 'I beg yourpardon, my dear. '

'When I was in Suffolk, ' resumed Mr. Parsons, with an impatientglance at his wife, who pretended not to observe it, 'which is nowyears ago, business led me to the town of Bury St. Edmund's. I hadto stop at the principal places in my way, and therefore, for thesake of convenience, I travelled in a gig. I left Sudbury one darknight--it was winter time--about nine o'clock; the rain poured intorrents, the wind howled among the trees that skirted theroadside, and I was obliged to proceed at a foot-pace, for I couldhardly see my hand before me, it was so dark--'

'John, ' interrupted Mrs. Parsons, in a low, hollow voice, 'don'tspill that gravy. '

'Fanny, ' said Parsons impatiently, 'I wish you'd defer thesedomestic reproofs to some more suitable time. Really, my dear, these constant interruptions are very annoying. '

'My dear, I didn't interrupt you, ' said Mrs. Parsons. 

'But, my dear, you DID interrupt me, ' remonstrated Mr. Parsons. 

'How very absurd you are, my love! I must give directions to theservants; I am quite sure that if I sat here and allowed John tospill the gravy over the new carpet, you'd be the first to findfault when you saw the stain to-morrow morning. '

'Well, ' continued Gabriel with a resigned air, as if he knew therewas no getting over the point about the carpet, 'I was just saying, it was so dark that I could hardly see my hand before me. The roadwas very lonely, and I assure you, Tottle (this was a device toarrest the wandering attention of that individual, which wasdistracted by a confidential communication between Mrs. Parsons andMartha, accompanied by the delivery of a large bunch of keys), Iassure you, Tottle, I became somehow impressed with a sense of theloneliness of my situation--'

'Pie to your master, ' interrupted Mrs. Parsons, again directing theservant. 

'Now, pray, my dear, ' remonstrated Parsons once more, verypettishly. Mrs. P. Turned up her hands and eyebrows, and appealedin dumb show to Miss Lillerton. 'As I turned a corner of theroad, ' resumed Gabriel, 'the horse stopped short, and rearedtremendously. I pulled up, jumped out, ran to his head, and founda man lying on his back in the middle of the road, with his eyesfixed on the sky. I thought he was dead; but no, he was alive, andthere appeared to be nothing the matter with him. He jumped up, and putting his hand to his chest, and fixing upon me the mostearnest gaze you can imagine, exclaimed--'

'Pudding here, ' said Mrs. Parsons. 

'Oh! it's no use, ' exclaimed the host, now rendered desperate. 'Here, Tottle; a glass of wine. It's useless to attempt relatinganything when Mrs. Parsons is present. '

This attack was received in the usual way. Mrs. Parsons talked TOMiss Lillerton and AT her better half; expatiated on the impatienceof men generally; hinted that her husband was peculiarly vicious inthis respect, and wound up by insinuating that she must be one ofthe best tempers that ever existed, or she never could put up withit. Really what she had to endure sometimes, was more than any onewho saw her in every-day life could by possibility suppose. --Thestory was now a painful subject, and therefore Mr. Parsons declinedto enter into any details, and contented himself by stating thatthe man was a maniac, who had escaped from a neighbouring mad-house. 

The cloth was removed; the ladies soon afterwards retired, and MissLillerton played the piano in the drawing-room overhead, veryloudly, for the edification of the visitor. Mr. Watkins Tottle andMr. Gabriel Parsons sat chatting comfortably enough, until theconclusion of the second bottle, when the latter, in proposing anadjournment to the drawing-room, informed Watkins that he hadconcerted a plan with his wife, for leaving him and Miss Lillertonalone, soon after tea. 

'I say, ' said Tottle, as they went up-stairs, 'don't you think itwould be better if we put it off till-till-to-morrow?'

'Don't YOU think it would have been much better if I had left youin that wretched hole I found you in this morning?' retortedParsons bluntly. 

'Well--well--I only made a suggestion, ' said poor Watkins Tottle, with a deep sigh. 

Tea was soon concluded, and Miss Lillerton, drawing a small work-table on one side of the fire, and placing a little wooden frameupon it, something like a miniature clay-mill without the horse, was soon busily engaged in making a watch-guard with brown silk. 

'God bless me!' exclaimed Parsons, starting up with well-feignedsurprise, 'I've forgotten those confounded letters. Tottle, I knowyou'll excuse me. '

If Tottle had been a free agent, he would have allowed no one toleave the room on any pretence, except himself. As it was, however, he was obliged to look cheerful when Parsons quitted theapartment. 

He had scarcely left, when Martha put her head into the room, with--'Please, ma'am, you're wanted. '

Mrs. Parsons left the room, shut the door carefully after her, andMr. Watkins Tottle was left alone with Miss Lillerton. 

For the first five minutes there was a dead silence. --Mr. WatkinsTottle was thinking how he should begin, and Miss Lillertonappeared to be thinking of nothing. The fire was burning low; Mr. Watkins Tottle stirred it, and put some coals on. 

'Hem!' coughed Miss Lillerton; Mr. Watkins Tottle thought the faircreature had spoken. 'I beg your pardon, ' said he. 

'Eh?'

'I thought you spoke. '

'No. '

'Oh!'

'There are some books on the sofa, Mr. Tottle, if you would like tolook at them, ' said Miss Lillerton, after the lapse of another fiveminutes. 

'No, thank you, ' returned Watkins; and then he added, with acourage which was perfectly astonishing, even to himself, 'Madam, that is Miss Lillerton, I wish to speak to you. '

'To me!' said Miss Lillerton, letting the silk drop from her hands, and sliding her chair back a few paces. --'Speak--to me!'

'To you, madam--and on the subject of the state of youraffections. ' The lady hastily rose and would have left the room;but Mr. Watkins Tottle gently detained her by the hand, and holdingit as far from him as the joint length of their arms would permit, he thus proceeded: 'Pray do not misunderstand me, or suppose thatI am led to address you, after so short an acquaintance, by anyfeeling of my own merits--for merits I have none which could giveme a claim to your hand. I hope you will acquit me of anypresumption when I explain that I have been acquainted through Mrs. Parsons, with the state--that is, that Mrs. Parsons has told me--atleast, not Mrs. Parsons, but--' here Watkins began to wander, butMiss Lillerton relieved him. 

'Am I to understand, Mr. Tottle, that Mrs. Parsons has acquaintedyou with my feeling--my affection--I mean my respect, for anindividual of the opposite sex?'

'She has. '

'Then, what?' inquired Miss Lillerton, averting her face, with agirlish air, 'what could induce YOU to seek such an interview asthis? What can your object be? How can I promote your happiness, Mr. Tottle?'

Here was the time for a flourish--'By allowing me, ' repliedWatkins, falling bump on his knees, and breaking two brace-buttonsand a waistcoat-string, in the act--'By allowing me to be yourslave, your servant--in short, by unreservedly making me theconfidant of your heart's feelings--may I say for the promotion ofyour own happiness--may I say, in order that you may become thewife of a kind and affectionate husband?'

'Disinterested creature!' exclaimed Miss Lillerton, hiding her facein a white pocket-handkerchief with an eyelet-hole border. 

Mr. Watkins Tottle thought that if the lady knew all, she mightpossibly alter her opinion on this last point. He raised the tipof her middle finger ceremoniously to his lips, and got off hisknees, as gracefully as he could. 'My information was correct?' hetremulously inquired, when he was once more on his feet. 

'It was. ' Watkins elevated his hands, and looked up to theornament in the centre of the ceiling, which had been made for alamp, by way of expressing his rapture. 

'Our situation, Mr. Tottle, ' resumed the lady, glancing at himthrough one of the eyelet-holes, 'is a most peculiar and delicateone. '

'It is, ' said Mr. Tottle. 

'Our acquaintance has been of SO short duration, ' said MissLillerton. 

'Only a week, ' assented Watkins Tottle. 

'Oh! more than that, ' exclaimed the lady, in a tone of surprise. 

'Indeed!' said Tottle. 

'More than a month--more than two months!' said Miss Lillerton. 

'Rather odd, this, ' thought Watkins. 

'Oh!' he said, recollecting Parsons's assurance that she had knownhim from report, 'I understand. But, my dear madam, pray, consider. The longer this acquaintance has existed, the lessreason is there for delay now. Why not at once fix a period forgratifying the hopes of your devoted admirer?'

'It has been represented to me again and again that this is thecourse I ought to pursue, ' replied Miss Lillerton, 'but pardon myfeelings of delicacy, Mr. Tottle--pray excuse this embarrassment--Ihave peculiar ideas on such subjects, and I am quite sure that Inever could summon up fortitude enough to name the day to my futurehusband. '

'Then allow ME to name it, ' said Tottle eagerly. 

'I should like to fix it myself, ' replied Miss Lillerton, bashfully, 'but I cannot do so without at once resorting to a thirdparty. '

'A third party!' thought Watkins Tottle; 'who the deuce is that tobe, I wonder!'

'Mr. Tottle, ' continued Miss Lillerton, 'you have made me a mostdisinterested and kind offer--that offer I accept. Will you atonce be the bearer of a note from me to--to Mr. Timson?'

'Mr. Timson!' said Watkins. 

'After what has passed between us, ' responded Miss Lillerton, stillaverting her head, 'you must understand whom I mean; Mr. Timson, the--the--clergyman. '

'Mr. Timson, the clergyman!' ejaculated Watkins Tottle, in a stateof inexpressible beatitude, and positive wonder at his own success. 'Angel! Certainly--this moment!'

'I'll prepare it immediately, ' said Miss Lillerton, making for thedoor; 'the events of this day have flurried me so much, Mr. Tottle, that I shall not leave my room again this evening; I will send youthe note by the servant. '

'Stay, --stay, ' cried Watkins Tottle, still keeping a mostrespectful distance from the lady; 'when shall we meet again?'

'Oh! Mr. Tottle, ' replied Miss Lillerton, coquettishly, 'when WEare married, I can never see you too often, nor thank you toomuch;' and she left the room. 

Mr. Watkins Tottle flung himself into an arm-chair, and indulged inthe most delicious reveries of future bliss, in which the idea of'Five hundred pounds per annum, with an uncontrolled power ofdisposing of it by her last will and testament, ' was somehow orother the foremost. He had gone through the interview so well, andit had terminated so admirably, that he almost began to wish he hadexpressly stipulated for the settlement of the annual five hundredon himself. 

'May I come in?' said Mr. Gabriel Parsons, peeping in at the door. 

'You may, ' replied Watkins. 

'Well, have you done it?' anxiously inquired Gabriel. 

'Have I done it!' said Watkins Tottle. 'Hush--I'm going to theclergyman. '

'No!' said Parsons. 'How well you have managed it!'

'Where does Timson live?' inquired Watkins. 

'At his uncle's, ' replied Gabriel, 'just round the lane. He'swaiting for a living, and has been assisting his uncle here for thelast two or three months. But how well you have done it--I didn'tthink you could have carried it off so!'

Mr. Watkins Tottle was proceeding to demonstrate that theRichardsonian principle was the best on which love could possiblybe made, when he was interrupted by the entrance of Martha, with alittle pink note folded like a fancy cocked-hat. 

'Miss Lillerton's compliments, ' said Martha, as she delivered itinto Tottle's hands, and vanished. 

'Do you observe the delicacy?' said Tottle, appealing to Mr. Gabriel Parsons. 'COMPLIMENTS, not LOVE, by the servant, eh?'

Mr. Gabriel Parsons didn't exactly know what reply to make, so hepoked the forefinger of his right hand between the third and fourthribs of Mr. Watkins Tottle. 

'Come, ' said Watkins, when the explosion of mirth, consequent onthis practical jest, had subsided, 'we'll be off at once--let'slose no time. '

'Capital!' echoed Gabriel Parsons; and in five minutes they were atthe garden-gate of the villa tenanted by the uncle of Mr. Timson. 

'Is Mr. Charles Timson at home?' inquired Mr. Watkins Tottle of Mr. Charles Timson's uncle's man. 

'Mr. Charles IS at home, ' replied the man, stammering; 'but hedesired me to say he couldn't be interrupted, sir, by any of theparishioners. '

'_I_ am not a parishioner, ' replied Watkins. 

'Is Mr. Charles writing a sermon, Tom?' inquired Parsons, thrustinghimself forward. 

'No, Mr. Parsons, sir; he's not exactly writing a sermon, but he ispractising the violoncello in his own bedroom, and gave strictorders not to be disturbed. '

'Say I'm here, ' replied Gabriel, leading the way across the garden;'Mr. Parsons and Mr. Tottle, on private and particular business. '

They were shown into the parlour, and the servant departed todeliver his message. The distant groaning of the violoncelloceased; footsteps were heard on the stairs; and Mr. Timsonpresented himself, and shook hands with Parsons with the utmostcordiality. 

'Game!' exclaimed Ikey, who had been altering the position of agreen-handled knife and fork at least a dozen times, in order thathe might remain in the room under the pretext of having somethingto do. 'He's game enough ven there's anything to be fierce about;but who could be game as you call it, Mr. Walker, with a pale youngcreetur like that, hanging about him?--It's enough to drive anyman's heart into his boots to see 'em together--and no mistake atall about it. I never shall forget her first comin' here; he wroteto her on the Thursday to come--I know he did, 'cos I took theletter. Uncommon fidgety he was all day to be sure, and in theevening he goes down into the office, and he says to Jacobs, sayshe, "Sir, can I have the loan of a private room for a few minutesthis evening, without incurring any additional expense--just to seemy wife in?" says he. Jacobs looked as much as to say--"Strike mebountiful if you ain't one of the modest sort!" but as the gen'lm'nwho had been in the back parlour had just gone out, and had paidfor it for that day, he says--werry grave--"Sir, " says he, "it'sagin our rules to let private rooms to our lodgers on gratis terms, but, " says he, "for a gentleman, I don't mind breaking through themfor once. " So then he turns found to me, and says, "Ikey, put twomould candles in the back parlour, and charge 'em to thisgen'lm'n's account, " vich I did. Vell, by-and-by a hackney-coachcomes up to the door, and there, sure enough, was the young lady, wrapped up in a hopera-cloak, as it might be, and all alone. Iopened the gate that night, so I went up when the coach come, andhe vos a waitin' at the parlour door--and wasn't he a trembling, neither? The poor creetur see him, and could hardly walk to meethim. "Oh, Harry!" she says, "that it should have come to this; andall for my sake, " says she, putting her hand upon his shoulder. Sohe puts his arm round her pretty little waist, and leading hergently a little way into the room, so that he might be able to shutthe door, he says, so kind and soft-like--"Why, Kate, " says he--'

'Here's the gentleman you want, ' said Ikey, abruptly breaking offin his story, and introducing Mr. Gabriel Parsons to the crest-fallen Watkins Tottle, who at that moment entered the room. Watkins advanced with a wooden expression of passive endurance, andaccepted the hand which Mr. Gabriel Parsons held out. 

'I want to speak to you, ' said Gabriel, with a look stronglyexpressive of his dislike of the company. 

'This way, ' replied the imprisoned one, leading the way to thefront drawing-room, where rich debtors did the luxurious at therate of a couple of guineas a day. 

'Well, here I am, ' said Mr. Watkins, as he sat down on the sofa;and placing the palms of his hands on his knees, anxiously glancedat his friend's countenance. 

'Yes; and here you're likely to be, ' said Gabriel, coolly, as herattled the money in his unmentionable pockets, and looked out ofthe window. 

'What's the amount with the costs?' inquired Parsons, after anawkward pause. 

'Have you any money?'

'Nine and sixpence halfpenny. '

Mr. Gabriel Parsons walked up and down the room for a few seconds, before he could make up his mind to disclose the plan he hadformed; he was accustomed to drive hard bargains, but was alwaysmost anxious to conceal his avarice. At length he stopped short, and said, 'Tottle, you owe me fifty pounds. '

'I do. '

'And from all I see, I infer that you are likely to owe it to me. '

'I fear I am. '

'Though you have every disposition to pay me if you could?'

'Certainly. '

'Then, ' said Mr. Gabriel Parsons, 'listen: here's my proposition. You know my way of old. Accept it--yes or no--I will or I won't. I'll pay the debt and costs, and I'll lend you 10l. More (which, added to your annuity, will enable you to carry on the war well) ifyou'll give me your note of hand to pay me one hundred and fiftypounds within six months after you are married to Miss Lillerton. '

'My dear--'

'Stop a minute--on one condition; and that is, that you propose toMiss Lillerton at once. '

'At once! My dear Parsons, consider. '

'It's for you to consider, not me. She knows you well fromreputation, though she did not know you personally until lately. Notwithstanding all her maiden modesty, I think she'd be devilishglad to get married out of hand with as little delay as possible. My wife has sounded her on the subject, and she has confessed. '

'What--what?' eagerly interrupted the enamoured Watkins. 

'Why, ' replied Parsons, 'to say exactly what she has confessed, would be rather difficult, because they only spoke in hints, and soforth; but my wife, who is no bad judge in these cases, declared tome that what she had confessed was as good as to say that she wasnot insensible of your merits--in fact, that no other man shouldhave her. '

Mr. Watkins Tottle rose hastily from his seat, and rang the bell. 

'What's that for?' inquired Parsons. 

'I want to send the man for the bill stamp, ' replied Mr. WatkinsTottle. 

'Then you've made up your mind?'

'I have, '--and they shook hands most cordially. The note of handwas given--the debt and costs were paid--Ikey was satisfied for histrouble, and the two friends soon found themselves on that side ofMr. Solomon Jacobs's establishment, on which most of his visitorswere very happy when they found themselves once again--to wit, theoutside. 

'Now, ' said Mr. Gabriel Parsons, as they drove to Norwood together--'you shall have an opportunity to make the disclosure to-night, and mind you speak out, Tottle. '

'I will--I will!' replied Watkins, valorously. 

'How I should like to see you together, ' ejaculated Mr. GabrielParsons. --'What fun!' and he laughed so long and so loudly, that hedisconcerted Mr. Watkins Tottle, and frightened the horse. 

'There's Fanny and your intended walking about on the lawn, ' saidGabriel, as they approached the house. 'Mind your eye, Tottle. '

'Never fear, ' replied Watkins, resolutely, as he made his way tothe spot where the ladies were walking. 

'Here's Mr. Tottle, my dear, ' said Mrs. Parsons, addressing MissLillerton. The lady turned quickly round, and acknowledged hiscourteous salute with the same sort of confusion that Watkins hadnoticed on their first interview, but with something like a slightexpression of disappointment or carelessness. 

'Did you see how glad she was to see you?' whispered Parsons to hisfriend. 

'Why, I really thought she looked as if she would rather have seensomebody else, ' replied Tottle. 

'Pooh, nonsense!' whispered Parsons again--'it's always the waywith the women, young or old. They never show how delighted theyare to see those whose presence makes their hearts beat. It's theway with the whole sex, and no man should have lived to your timeof life without knowing it. Fanny confessed it to me, when we werefirst married, over and over again--see what it is to have a wife. '

'Certainly, ' whispered Tottle, whose courage was vanishing fast. 

'Well, now, you'd better begin to pave the way, ' said Parsons, who, having invested some money in the speculation, assumed the officeof director. 

'Yes, yes, I will--presently, ' replied Tottle, greatly flurried. 

'Say something to her, man, ' urged Parsons again. 'Confound it!pay her a compliment, can't you?'

'No! not till after dinner, ' replied the bashful Tottle, anxious topostpone the evil moment. 

'Well, gentlemen, ' said Mrs. Parsons, 'you are really very polite;you stay away the whole morning, after promising to take us out, and when you do come home, you stand whispering together and takeno notice of us. '

'We were talking of the BUSINESS, my dear, which detained us thismorning, ' replied Parsons, looking significantly at Tottle. 

'Dear me! how very quickly the morning has gone, ' said MissLillerton, referring to the gold watch, which was wound up on stateoccasions, whether it required it or not. 

'I think it has passed very slowly, ' mildly suggested Tottle. 

('That's right--bravo!') whispered Parsons. 

'Indeed!' said Miss Lillerton, with an air of majestic surprise. 

'I can only impute it to my unavoidable absence from your society, madam, ' said Watkins, 'and that of Mrs. Parsons. '

During this short dialogue, the ladies had been leading the way tothe house. 

'What the deuce did you stick Fanny into that last compliment for?'inquired Parsons, as they followed together; 'it quite spoilt theeffect. '

'Oh! it really would have been too broad without, ' replied WatkinsTottle, 'much too broad!'

'He's mad!' Parsons whispered his wife, as they entered thedrawing-room, 'mad from modesty. '

'Dear me!' ejaculated the lady, 'I never heard of such a thing. '

'You'll find we have quite a family dinner, Mr. Tottle, ' said Mrs. Parsons, when they sat down to table: 'Miss Lillerton is one ofus, and, of course, we make no stranger of you. '

Mr. Watkins Tottle expressed a hope that the Parsons family neverwould make a stranger of him; and wished internally that hisbashfulness would allow him to feel a little less like a strangerhimself. 

'Take off the covers, Martha, ' said Mrs. Parsons, directing theshifting of the scenery with great anxiety. The order was obeyed, and a pair of boiled fowls, with tongue and et ceteras, weredisplayed at the top, and a fillet of veal at the bottom. On oneside of the table two green sauce-tureens, with ladles of the same, were setting to each other in a green dish; and on the other was acurried rabbit, in a brown suit, turned up with lemon. 

'Miss Lillerton, my dear, ' said Mrs. Parsons, 'shall I assist you?'

'Thank you, no; I think I'll trouble Mr. Tottle. '

Watkins started--trembled--helped the rabbit--and broke a tumbler. The countenance of the lady of the house, which had been all smilespreviously, underwent an awful change. 

'Extremely sorry, ' stammered Watkins, assisting himself to currieand parsley and butter, in the extremity of his confusion. 

'Not the least consequence, ' replied Mrs. Parsons, in a tone whichimplied that it was of the greatest consequence possible, --directing aside the researches of the boy, who was groping underthe table for the bits of broken glass. 

'I presume, ' said Miss Lillerton, 'that Mr. Tottle is aware of theinterest which bachelors usually pay in such cases; a dozen glassesfor one is the lowest penalty. '

Mr. Gabriel Parsons gave his friend an admonitory tread on the toe. Here was a clear hint that the sooner he ceased to be a bachelorand emancipated himself from such penalties, the better. Mr. Watkins Tottle viewed the observation in the same light, andchallenged Mrs. Parsons to take wine, with a degree of presence ofmind, which, under all the circumstances, was really extraordinary. 

'Miss Lillerton, ' said Gabriel, 'may I have the pleasure?'

'I shall be most happy. '

'Tottle, will you assist Miss Lillerton, and pass the decanter. Thank you. ' (The usual pantomimic ceremony of nodding and sippinggone through) -

'Tottle, were you ever in Suffolk?' inquired the master of thehouse, who was burning to tell one of his seven stock stories. 

'No, ' responded Watkins, adding, by way of a saving clause, 'butI've been in Devonshire. '

'Ah!' replied Gabriel, 'it was in Suffolk that a rather singularcircumstance happened to me many years ago. Did you ever happen tohear me mention it?'

Mr. Watkins Tottle HAD happened to hear his friend mention it somefour hundred times. Of course he expressed great curiosity, andevinced the utmost impatience to hear the story again. Mr. GabrielParsons forthwith attempted to proceed, in spite of theinterruptions to which, as our readers must frequently haveobserved, the master of the house is often exposed in such cases. We will attempt to give them an idea of our meaning. 

'When I was in Suffolk--' said Mr. Gabriel Parsons. 

'Take off the fowls first, Martha, ' said Mrs. Parsons. 'I beg yourpardon, my dear. '

'When I was in Suffolk, ' resumed Mr. Parsons, with an impatientglance at his wife, who pretended not to observe it, 'which is nowyears ago, business led me to the town of Bury St. Edmund's. I hadto stop at the principal places in my way, and therefore, for thesake of convenience, I travelled in a gig. I left Sudbury one darknight--it was winter time--about nine o'clock; the rain poured intorrents, the wind howled among the trees that skirted theroadside, and I was obliged to proceed at a foot-pace, for I couldhardly see my hand before me, it was so dark--'

'John, ' interrupted Mrs. Parsons, in a low, hollow voice, 'don'tspill that gravy. '

'Fanny, ' said Parsons impatiently, 'I wish you'd defer thesedomestic reproofs to some more suitable time. Really, my dear, these constant interruptions are very annoying. '

'My dear, I didn't interrupt you, ' said Mrs. Parsons. 

'But, my dear, you did interrupt me, ' remonstrated Mr. Parsons. 

'How very absurd you are, my love! I must give directions to theservants; I am quite sure that if I sat here and allowed John tospill the gravy over the new carpet, you'd be the first to findfault when you saw the stain to-morrow morning. '

'Well, ' continued Gabriel with a resigned air, as if he knew therewas no getting over the point about the carpet, 'I was just saying, it was so dark that I could hardly see my hand before me. The roadwas very lonely, and I assure you, Tottle (this was a device toarrest the wandering attention of that individual, which wasdistracted by a confidential communication between Mrs. Parsons andMartha, accompanied by the delivery of a large bunch of keys), Iassure you, Tottle, I became somehow impressed with a sense of theloneliness of my situation--'

'Pie to your master, ' interrupted Mrs. Parsons, again directing theservant. 

'Now, pray, my dear, ' remonstrated Parsons once more, verypettishly. Mrs. P. Turned up her hands and eyebrows, and appealedin dumb show to Miss Lillerton. 'As I turned a corner of theroad, ' resumed Gabriel, 'the horse stopped short, and rearedtremendously. I pulled up, jumped out, ran to his head, and founda man lying on his back in the middle of the road, with his eyesfixed on the sky. I thought he was dead; but no, he was alive, andthere appeared to be nothing the matter with him. He jumped up, and potting his hand to his chest, and fixing upon me the mostearnest gaze you can imagine, exclaimed--'Pudding here, ' said Mrs. Parsons. 

'Oh! it's no use, ' exclaimed the host, now rendered desperate. 'Here, Tottle; a glass of wine. It's useless to attempt relatinganything when Mrs. Parsons is present. '

This attack was received in the usual way. Mrs. Parsons talked TOMiss Lillerton and AT her better half; expatiated on the impatienceof men generally; hinted that her husband was peculiarly vicious inthis respect, and wound up by insinuating that she must be one ofthe best tempers that ever existed, or she never could put up withit. Really what she had to endure sometimes, was more than any onewho saw her in every-day life could by possibility suppose. --Thestory was now a painful subject, and therefore Mr. Parsons declinedto enter into any details, and contented himself by stating thatthe man was a maniac, who had escaped from a neighbouring mad-house. 

The cloth was removed; the ladies soon afterwards retired, and MissLillerton played the piano in the drawing-room overhead, veryloudly, for the edification of the visitor. Mr. Watkins Tottle andMr. Gabriel Parsons sat chatting comfortably enough, until theconclusion of the second bottle, when the latter, in proposing anadjournment to the drawing-room, informed Watkins that he hadconcerted a plan with his wife, for leaving him and Miss Lillertonalone, soon after tea. 

'I say, ' said Tottle, as they went up-stairs, 'don't you think itwould be better if we put it off till-till-to-morrow?'

'Don't YOU think it would have been much better if I had left youin that wretched hole I found you in this morning?' retortedParsons bluntly. 

'Well--well--I only made a suggestion, ' said poor Watkins Tottle, with a deep sigh. 

Tea was soon concluded, and Miss Lillerton, drawing a small work-table on one side of the fire, and placing a little wooden frameupon it, something like a miniature clay-mill without the horse, was soon busily engaged in making a watch-guard with brown silk. 

'God bless me!' exclaimed Parsons, starting up with well-feignedsurprise, 'I've forgotten those confounded letters. Tottle, I knowyou'll excuse me. '

If Tottle had been a free agent, he would have allowed no one toleave the room on any pretence, except himself. As it was, however, he was obliged to look cheerful when Parsons quitted theapartment. 

He had scarcely left, when Martha put her head into the room, with--'Please, ma'am, you're wanted. '

Mrs. Parsons left the room, shut the door carefully after her, andMr. Watkins Tottle was left alone with Miss Lillerton. 

For the first five minutes there was a dead silence. --Mr. WatkinsTottle was thinking how he should begin, and Miss Lillertonappeared to be thinking of nothing. The fire was burning low; Mr. Watkins Tottle stirred it, and put some coals on. 

'Hem!' coughed Miss Lillerton; Mr. Watkins Tottle thought the faircreature had spoken. 'I beg your pardon, ' said he. 

'Eh?'

'I thought you spoke. '

'No. '

'Oh!'

'There are some books on the sofa, Mr. Tottle, if you would like tolook at them, ' said Miss Lillerton, after the lapse of another fiveminutes. 

'No, thank you, ' returned Watkins; and then he added, with acourage which was perfectly astonishing, even to himself, 'Madam, that is Miss Lillerton, I wish to speak to you. '

'To me!' said Miss Lillerton, letting the silk drop from her hands, and sliding her chair back a few paces. --'Speak--to me!'

'To you, madam--and on the subject of the state of youraffections. ' The lady hastily rose and would have left the room;but Mr. Watkins Tottle gently detained her by the hand, and holdingit as far from him as the joint length of their arms would permit, he thus proceeded: 'Pray do not misunderstand me, or suppose thatI am led to address you, after so short an acquaintance, by anyfeeling of my own merits--for merits I have none which could giveme a claim to your hand. I hope you will acquit me of anypresumption when I explain that I have been acquainted through Mrs. Parsons, with the state--that is, that Mrs. Parsons has told me--atleast, not Mrs. Parsons, but--' here Watkins began to wander, butMiss Lillerton relieved him. 

'Am I to understand, Mr. Tottle, that Mrs. Parsons has acquaintedyou with my feeling--my affection--I mean my respect, for anindividual of the opposite sex?'

'She has. '

'Then, what?' inquired Miss Lillerton, averting her face, with agirlish air, 'what could induce YOU to seek such an interview asthis? What can your object be? How can I promote your happiness, Mr. Tottle?'

Here was the time for a flourish--'By allowing me, ' repliedWatkins, falling bump on his knees, and breaking two brace-buttonsand a waistcoat-string, in the act--'By allowing me to be yourslave, your servant--in short, by unreservedly making me theconfidant of your heart's feelings--may I say for the promotion ofyour own happiness--may I say, in order that you may become thewife of a kind and affectionate husband?'

'Disinterested creature!' exclaimed Miss Lillerton, hiding her facein a white pocket-handkerchief with an eyelet-hole border. 

Mr. Watkins Tottle thought that if the lady knew all, she mightpossibly alter her opinion on this last point. He raised the tipof her middle finger ceremoniously to his lips, and got off hisknees, as gracefully as he could. 'My information was correct?' hetremulously inquired, when he was once more on his feet. 

'It was. ' Watkins elevated his hands, and looked up to theornament in the centre of the ceiling, which had been made for alamp, by way of expressing his rapture. 

'Our situation, Mr. Tottle, ' resumed the lady, glancing at himthrough one of the eyelet-holes, 'is a most peculiar. And delicateone. '

'It is, ' said Mr. Tottle. 

'Our acquaintance has been of SO short duration, ' said MissLillerton. 

'Only a week, ' assented Watkins Tottle. 

'Oh! more than that, ' exclaimed the lady, in a tone of surprise. 

'Indeed!' said Tottle. 

'More than a month--more than two months!' said Miss Lillerton. 

'Rather odd, this, ' thought Watkins. 

'Oh!' he said, recollecting Parsons's assurance that she had knownhim from report, 'I understand. But, my dear madam, pray, consider. The longer this acquaintance has existed, the lessreason is I there for delay now. Why not at once fix a period forgratifying the hopes of your devoted admirer?'

'It has been represented to me again and again that this is thecourse I ought to pursue, ' replied Miss Lillerton, 'but pardon myfeelings of delicacy, Mr. Tottle--pray excuse this embarrassment--Ihave peculiar ideas on such subjects, and I am quite sure that Inever could summon up fortitude enough to name the day to my futurehusband. '

'Then allow ME to name it, ' said Tottle eagerly. 

'I should like to fix it myself, ' replied Miss Lillerton, bashfully, but I cannot do so without at once resorting to a thirdparty. '

'A third party!' thought Watkins Tottle; 'who the deuce is that tobe, I wonder!'

'Mr. Tottle, ' continued Miss Lillerton, 'you have made me a mostdisinterested and kind offer--that offer I accept. Will you atonce be the bearer of a note from me to--to Mr. Timson?'

'Mr. Timson!' said Watkins. 

'After what has passed between us, ' responded Miss Lillerton, stillaverting her head, 'you must understand whom I mean; Mr. Timson, the--the--clergyman. '

'Mr. Timson, the clergyman!' ejaculated Watkins Tottle, in a stateof inexpressible beatitude, and positive wonder at his own success. 'Angel! Certainly--this moment!'

'I'll prepare it immediately, ' said Miss Lillerton, making for thedoor; 'the events of this day have flurried me so much, Mr. Tottle, that I shall not leave my room again this evening; I will send youthe note by the servant. '

'Stay, --stay, ' cried Watkins Tottle, still keeping a mostrespectful distance from the lady; 'when shall we meet again?'

'Oh! Mr. Tottle, ' replied Miss Lillerton, coquettishly, 'when weare married, I can never see you too often, nor thank you toomuch;' and she left the room. 

Mr. Watkins Tottle flung himself into an arm-chair, and indulged inthe most delicious reveries of future bliss, in which the idea of'Five hundred pounds per annum, with an uncontrolled power ofdisposing of it by her last will and testament, ' was somehow orother the foremost. He had gone through the interview so well, andit had terminated so admirably, that he almost began to wish he hadexpressly stipulated for the settlement of the annual five hundredon himself. 

'May I come in?' said Mr. Gabriel Parsons, peeping in at the door. 

'You may, ' replied Watkins. 

'Well, have you done it?' anxiously inquired Gabriel. 

'Have I done it!' said Watkins Tottle. 'Hush--I'm going to theclergyman. '

'No!' said Parsons. 'How well you have managed it!'

'Where does Timson live?' inquired Watkins. 

'At his uncle's, ' replied Gabriel, 'just round the lane. He'swaiting for a living, and has been assisting his uncle here for thelast two or three months. But how well you have done it--I didn'tthink you could have carried it off so!'

Mr. Watkins Tottle was proceeding to demonstrate that theRichardsonian principle was the best on which love could possiblybe made, when he was interrupted by the entrance of Martha, with alittle pink note folded like a fancy cocked-hat. 

'Miss Lillerton's compliments, ' said Martha, as she delivered itinto Tottle's hands, and vanished. 

'Do you observe the delicacy?' said Tottle, appealing to Mr. Gabriel Parsons. 'COMPLIMENTS, not LOVE, by the servant, eh?'

Mr. Gabriel Parsons didn't exactly know what reply to make, so hepoked the forefinger of his right hand between the third and fourthribs of Mr. Watkins Tottle. 

'Come, ' said Watkins, when the explosion of mirth, consequent onthis practical jest, had subsided, 'we'll be off at once--let'slose no time. '

'Capital!' echoed Gabriel Parsons; and in five minutes they were atthe garden-gate of the villa tenanted by the uncle of Mr. Timson. 

'Is Mr. Charles Timson at home?' inquired Mr. Watkins Tottle of Mr. Charles Timson's uncle's man. 

'Mr. Charles IS at home, ' replied the man, stammering; 'but hedesired me to say he couldn't be interrupted, sir, by any of theparishioners. '

'_I_ am not a parishioner, ' replied Watkins. 

'Is Mr. Charles writing a sermon, Tom?' inquired Parsons, thrustinghimself forward. 

'No, Mr. Parsons, sir; he's not exactly writing a sermon, but he ispractising the violoncello in his own bedroom, and gave strictorders not to be disturbed. '

'Say I'm here, ' replied Gabriel, leading the way across the garden;'Mr. Parsons and Mr. Tottle, on private and particular business. '

They were shown into the parlour, and the servant departed todeliver his message. The distant groaning of the violoncelloceased; footsteps were heard on the stairs; and Mr. Timsonpresented himself, and shook hands with Parsons with the utmostcordiality. 

'How do you do, sir?' said Watkins Tottle, with great solemnity. 

'How do YOU do, sir?' replied Timson, with as much coldness as ifit were a matter of perfect indifference to him how he did, as itvery likely was. 

'I beg to deliver this note to you, ' said Watkins Tottle, producingthe cocked-hat. 

'From Miss Lillerton!' said Timson, suddenly changing colour. 'Pray sit down. '

Mr. Watkins Tottle sat down; and while Timson perused the note, fixed his eyes on an oyster-sauce-coloured portrait of theArchbishop of Canterbury, which hung over the fireplace. 

Mr. Timson rose from his seat when he had concluded the note, andlooked dubiously at Parsons. 'May I ask, ' he inquired, appealingto Watkins Tottle, 'whether our friend here is acquainted with theobject of your visit?'

'Our friend is in MY confidence, ' replied Watkins, withconsiderable importance. 

'Then, sir, ' said Timson, seizing both Tottle's hands, 'allow me inhis presence to thank you most unfeignedly and cordially, for thenoble part you have acted in this affair. '

'He thinks I recommended him, ' thought Tottle. 'Confound thesefellows! they never think of anything but their fees. '

'I deeply regret having misunderstood your intentions, my dearsir, ' continued Timson. 'Disinterested and manly, indeed! Thereare very few men who would have acted as you have done. '

Mr. Watkins Tottle could not help thinking that this last remarkwas anything but complimentary. He therefore inquired, ratherhastily, 'When is it to be?'

'On Thursday, ' replied Timson, --'on Thursday morning at half-pasteight. '

'Uncommonly early, ' observed Watkins Tottle, with an air oftriumphant self-denial. 'I shall hardly be able to get down hereby that hour. ' (This was intended for a joke. )

'Never mind, my dear fellow, ' replied Timson, all suavity, shakinghands with Tottle again most heartily, 'so long as we see you tobreakfast, you know--'

'Eh!' said Parsons, with one of the most extraordinary expressionsof countenance that ever appeared in a human face. 

'What!' ejaculated Watkins Tottle, at the same moment. 

'I say that so long as we see you to breakfast, ' replied Timson, 'we will excuse your being absent from the ceremony, though ofcourse your presence at it would give us the utmost pleasure. '

Mr. Watkins Tottle staggered against the wall, and fixed his eyeson Timson with appalling perseverance. 

'Timson, ' said Parsons, hurriedly brushing his hat with his leftarm, 'when you say "us, " whom do you mean?'

Mr. Timson looked foolish in his turn, when he replied, 'Why--Mrs. Timson that will be this day week: Miss Lillerton that is--'

'Now don't stare at that idiot in the corner, ' angrily exclaimedParsons, as the extraordinary convulsions of Watkins Tottle'scountenance excited the wondering gaze of Timson, --'but have thegoodness to tell me in three words the contents of that note?'

'This note, ' replied Timson, 'is from Miss Lillerton, to whom Ihave been for the last five weeks regularly engaged. Her singularscruples and strange feeling on some points have hitherto preventedmy bringing the engagement to that termination which I so anxiouslydesire. She informs me here, that she sounded Mrs. Parsons withthe view of making her her confidante and go-between, that Mrs. Parsons informed this elderly gentleman, Mr. Tottle, of thecircumstance, and that he, in the most kind and delicate terms, offered to assist us in any way, and even undertook to convey thisnote, which contains the promise I have long sought in vain--an actof kindness for which I can never be sufficiently grateful. '

'Good night, Timson, ' said Parsons, hurrying off, and carrying thebewildered Tottle with him. 

'Won't you stay--and have something?' said Timson. 

'No, thank ye, ' replied Parsons; 'I've had quite enough;' and awayhe went, followed by Watkins Tottle in a state of stupefaction. 

Mr. Gabriel Parsons whistled until they had walked some quarter ofa mile past his own gate, when he suddenly stopped, and said -

'You are a clever fellow, Tottle, ain't you?'

'I don't know, ' said the unfortunate Watkins. 

'I suppose you'll say this is Fanny's fault, won't you?' inquiredGabriel. 

'I don't know anything about it, ' replied the bewildered Tottle. 

'Well, ' said Parsons, turning on his heel to go home, 'the nexttime you make an offer, you had better speak plainly, and don'tthrow a chance away. And the next time you're locked up in aspunging-house, just wait there till I come and take you out, there's a good fellow. '

How, or at what hour, Mr. Watkins Tottle returned to Cecil-streetis unknown. His boots were seen outside his bedroom-door nextmorning; but we have the authority of his landlady for stating thathe neither emerged therefrom nor accepted sustenance for four-and-twenty hours. At the expiration of that period, and when a councilof war was being held in the kitchen on the propriety of summoningthe parochial beadle to break his door open, he rang his bell, anddemanded a cup of milk-and-water. The next morning he went throughthe formalities of eating and drinking as usual, but a weekafterwards he was seized with a relapse, while perusing the list ofmarriages in a morning paper, from which he never perfectlyrecovered. 

A few weeks after the last-named occurrence, the body of agentleman unknown, was found in the Regent's canal. In thetrousers-pockets were four shillings and threepence halfpenny; amatrimonial advertisement from a lady, which appeared to have beencut out of a Sunday paper: a tooth-pick, and a card-case, which itis confidently believed would have led to the identification of theunfortunate gentleman, but for the circumstance of there being nonebut blank cards in it. Mr. Watkins Tottle absented himself fromhis lodgings shortly before. A bill, which has not been taken up, was presented next morning; and a bill, which has not been takendown, was soon afterwards affixed in his parlour-window. 

CHAPTER XI--THE BLOOMSBURY CHRISTENING

Mr. Nicodemus Dumps, or, as his acquaintance called him, 'longDumps, ' was a bachelor, six feet high, and fifty years old: cross, cadaverous, odd, and ill-natured. He was never happy but when hewas miserable; and always miserable when he had the best reason tobe happy. The only real comfort of his existence was to makeeverybody about him wretched--then he might be truly said to enjoylife. He was afflicted with a situation in the Bank worth fivehundred a-year, and he rented a 'first-floor furnished, ' atPentonville, which he originally took because it commanded a dismalprospect of an adjacent churchyard. He was familiar with the faceof every tombstone, and the burial service seemed to excite hisstrongest sympathy. His friends said he was surly--he insisted hewas nervous; they thought him a lucky dog, but he protested that hewas 'the most unfortunate man in the world. ' Cold as he was, andwretched as he declared himself to be, he was not whollyunsusceptible of attachments. He revered the memory of Hoyle, ashe was himself an admirable and imperturbable whist-player, and hechuckled with delight at a fretful and impatient adversary. Headored King Herod for his massacre of the innocents; and if hehated one thing more than another, it was a child. However, hecould hardly be said to hate anything in particular, because hedisliked everything in general; but perhaps his greatestantipathies were cabs, old women, doors that would not shut, musical amateurs, and omnibus cads. He subscribed to the 'Societyfor the Suppression of Vice' for the pleasure of putting a stop toany harmless amusements; and he contributed largely towards thesupport of two itinerant methodist parsons, in the amiable hopethat if circumstances rendered any people happy in this world, theymight perchance be rendered miserable by fears for the next. 

Mr. Dumps had a nephew who had been married about a year, and whowas somewhat of a favourite with his uncle, because he was anadmirable subject to exercise his misery-creating powers upon. Mr. Charles Kitterbell was a small, sharp, spare man, with a very largehead, and a broad, good-humoured countenance. He looked like afaded giant, with the head and face partially restored; and he hada cast in his eye which rendered it quite impossible for any onewith whom he conversed to know where he was looking. His eyesappeared fixed on the wall, and he was staring you out ofcountenance; in short, there was no catching his eye, and perhapsit is a merciful dispensation of Providence that such eyes are notcatching. In addition to these characteristics, it may be addedthat Mr. Charles Kitterbell was one of the most credulous andmatter-of-fact little personages that ever took TO himself a wife, and FOR himself a house in Great Russell-street, Bedford-square. (Uncle Dumps always dropped the 'Bedford-square, ' and inserted inlieu thereof the dreadful words 'Tottenham-court-road. ')

'No, but, uncle, 'pon my life you must--you must promise to begodfather, ' said Mr. Kitterbell, as he sat in conversation with hisrespected relative one morning. 

'I cannot, indeed I cannot, ' returned Dumps. 

'Well, but why not? Jemima will think it very unkind. It's verylittle trouble. '

'As to the trouble, ' rejoined the most unhappy man in existence, 'Idon't mind that; but my nerves are in that state--I cannot gothrough the ceremony. You know I don't like going out. --For God'ssake, Charles, don't fidget with that stool so; you'll drive memad. ' Mr. Kitterbell, quite regardless of his uncle's nerves, hadoccupied himself for some ten minutes in describing a circle on thefloor with one leg of the office-stool on which he was seated, keeping the other three up in the air, and holding fast on by thedesk. 

'I beg your pardon, uncle, ' said Kitterbell, quite abashed, suddenly releasing his hold of the desk, and bringing the threewandering legs back to the floor, with a force sufficient to drivethem through it. 

'But come, don't refuse. If it's a boy, you know, we must have twogodfathers. '

'IF it's a boy!' said Dumps; 'why can't you say at once whether itIS a boy or not?'

'I should be very happy to tell you, but it's impossible I canundertake to say whether it's a girl or a boy, if the child isn'tborn yet. '

'Not born yet!' echoed Dumps, with a gleam of hope lighting up hislugubrious visage. 'Oh, well, it MAY be a girl, and then you won'twant me; or if it is a boy, it MAY die before it is christened. '

'I hope not, ' said the father that expected to be, looking verygrave. 

'I hope not, ' acquiesced Dumps, evidently pleased with the subject. He was beginning to get happy. 'I hope not, but distressing casesfrequently occur during the first two or three days of a child'slife; fits, I am told, are exceedingly common, and alarmingconvulsions are almost matters of course. '

'Lord, uncle!' ejaculated little Kitterbell, gasping for breath. 

'Yes; my landlady was confined--let me see--last Tuesday: anuncommonly fine boy. On the Thursday night the nurse was sittingwith him upon her knee before the fire, and he was as well aspossible. Suddenly he became black in the face, and alarminglyspasmodic. The medical man was instantly sent for, and everyremedy was tried, but--'

'How frightful!' interrupted the horror-stricken Kitterbell. 

'The child died, of course. However, your child MAY not die; andif it should be a boy, and should LIVE to be christened, why Isuppose I must be one of the sponsors. ' Dumps was evidently good-natured on the faith of his anticipations. 

'Thank you, uncle, ' said his agitated nephew, grasping his hand aswarmly as if he had done him some essential service. 'Perhaps Ihad better not tell Mrs. K. What you have mentioned. '

'Why, if she's low-spirited, perhaps you had better not mention themelancholy case to her, ' returned Dumps, who of course had inventedthe whole story; 'though perhaps it would be but doing your duty asa husband to prepare her for the WORST. '

A day or two afterwards, as Dumps was perusing a morning paper atthe chop-house which he regularly frequented, the following-paragraph met his eyes:-

'BIRTHS. --On Saturday, the 18th inst. , in Great Russell-street, thelady of Charles Kitterbell, Esq. , of a son. '

'It IS a boy!' he exclaimed, dashing down the paper, to theastonishment of the waiters. 'It IS a boy!' But he speedilyregained his composure as his eye rested on a paragraph quoting thenumber of infant deaths from the bills of mortality. 

Six weeks passed away, and as no communication had been receivedfrom the Kitterbells, Dumps was beginning to flatter himself thatthe child was dead, when the following note painfully resolved hisdoubts:-

'Great Russell-street, Monday morning. 

DEAR UNCLE, --You will be delighted to hear that my dear Jemima hasleft her room, and that your future godson is getting on capitally. He was very thin at first, but he is getting much larger, and nursesays he is filling out every day. He cries a good deal, and is avery singular colour, which made Jemima and me ratheruncomfortable; but as nurse says it's natural, and as of course weknow nothing about these things yet, we are quite satisfied withwhat nurse says. We think he will be a sharp child; and nurse saysshe's sure he will, because he never goes to sleep. You willreadily believe that we are all very happy, only we're a littleworn out for want of rest, as he keeps us awake all night; but thiswe must expect, nurse says, for the first six or eight months. Hehas been vaccinated, but in consequence of the operation beingrather awkwardly performed, some small particles of glass wereintroduced into the arm with the matter. Perhaps this may in somedegree account for his being rather fractious; at least, so nursesays. We propose to have him christened at twelve o'clock onFriday, at Saint George's church, in Hart-street, by the name ofFrederick Charles William. Pray don't be later than a quarterbefore twelve. We shall have a very few friends in the evening, when of course we shall see you. I am sorry to say that the dearboy appears rather restless and uneasy to-day: the cause, I fear, is fever. 

'Believe me, dear Uncle, 'Yours affectionately, 'CHARLES KITTERBELL. 

'P. S. --I open this note to say that we have just discovered thecause of little Frederick's restlessness. It is not fever, as Iapprehended, but a small pin, which nurse accidentally stuck in hisleg yesterday evening. We have taken it out, and he appears morecomposed, though he still sobs a good deal. '

It is almost unnecessary to say that the perusal of the aboveinteresting statement was no great relief to the mind of thehypochondriacal Dumps. It was impossible to recede, however, andso he put the best face--that is to say, an uncommonly miserableone--upon the matter; and purchased a handsome silver mug for theinfant Kitterbell, upon which he ordered the initials 'F. C. W. K. , ' with the customary untrained grape-vine-looking flourishes, and a large full stop, to be engraved forthwith. 

Monday was a fine day, Tuesday was delightful, Wednesday was equalto either, and Thursday was finer than ever; four successive finedays in London! Hackney-coachmen became revolutionary, andcrossing-sweepers began to doubt the existence of a First Cause. The Morning Herald informed its readers that an old woman in CamdenTown had been heard to say that the fineness of the season was'unprecedented in the memory of the oldest inhabitant;' andIslington clerks, with large families and small salaries, left offtheir black gaiters, disdained to carry their once green cottonumbrellas, and walked to town in the conscious pride of whitestockings and cleanly brushed Bluchers. Dumps beheld all this withan eye of supreme contempt--his triumph was at hand. He knew thatif it had been fine for four weeks instead of four days, it wouldrain when he went out; he was lugubriously happy in the convictionthat Friday would be a wretched day--and so it was. 'I knew how itwould be, ' said Dumps, as he turned round opposite the Mansion-house at half-past eleven o'clock on the Friday morning. 'I knewhow it would be. _I_ am concerned, and that's enough;'--andcertainly the appearance of the day was sufficient to depress thespirits of a much more buoyant-hearted individual than himself. Ithad rained, without a moment's cessation, since eight o'clock;everybody that passed up Cheapside, and down Cheapside, looked wet, cold, and dirty. All sorts of forgotten and long-concealedumbrellas had been put into requisition. Cabs whisked about, withthe 'fare' as carefully boxed up behind two glazed calico curtainsas any mysterious picture in any one of Mrs. Radcliffe's castles;omnibus horses smoked like steam-engines; nobody thought of'standing up' under doorways or arches; they were painfullyconvinced it was a hopeless case; and so everybody went hastilyalong, jumbling and jostling, and swearing and perspiring, andslipping about, like amateur skaters behind wooden chairs on theSerpentine on a frosty Sunday. 

Dumps paused; he could not think of walking, being rather smart forthe christening. If he took a cab he was sure to be spilt, and ahackney-coach was too expensive for his economical ideas. Anomnibus was waiting at the opposite corner--it was a desperatecase--he had never heard of an omnibus upsetting or running away, and if the cad did knock him down, he could 'pull him up' inreturn. 

'Now, sir!' cried the young gentleman who officiated as 'cad' tothe 'Lads of the Village, ' which was the name of the machine justnoticed. Dumps crossed. 

'This vay, sir!' shouted the driver of the 'Hark-away, ' pulling uphis vehicle immediately across the door of the opposition--'Thisvay, sir--he's full. ' Dumps hesitated, whereupon the 'Lads of theVillage' commenced pouring out a torrent of abuse against the'Hark-away;' but the conductor of the 'Admiral Napier' settled thecontest in a most satisfactory manner, for all parties, by seizingDumps round the waist, and thrusting him into the middle of hisvehicle which had just come up and only wanted the sixteenthinside. 

'All right, ' said the 'Admiral, ' and off the thing thundered, likea fire-engine at full gallop, with the kidnapped customer inside, standing in the position of a half doubled-up bootjack, and fallingabout with every jerk of the machine, first on the one side, andthen on the other, like a 'Jack-in-the-green, ' on May-day, settingto the lady with a brass ladle. 

'For Heaven's sake, where am I to sit?' inquired the miserable manof an old gentleman, into whose stomach he had just fallen for thefourth time. 

'Anywhere but on my CHEST, sir, ' replied the old gentleman in asurly tone. 

'Perhaps the BOX would suit the gentleman better, ' suggested a verydamp lawyer's clerk, in a pink shirt, and a smirking countenance. 

After a great deal of struggling and falling about, Dumps at lastmanaged to squeeze himself into a seat, which, in addition to theslight disadvantage of being between a window that would not shut, and a door that must be open, placed him in close contact with apassenger, who had been walking about all the morning without anumbrella, and who looked as if he had spent the day in a fullwater-butt--only wetter. 

'Don't bang the door so, ' said Dumps to the conductor, as he shutit after letting out four of the passengers; I am very nervous--itdestroys me. '

'Did any gen'lm'n say anythink?' replied the cad, thrusting in hishead, and trying to look as if he didn't understand the request. 

'I told you not to bang the door so!' repeated Dumps, with anexpression of countenance like the knave of clubs, in convulsions. 

'Oh! vy, it's rather a sing'ler circumstance about this here door, sir, that it von't shut without banging, ' replied the conductor;and he opened the door very wide, and shut it again with a terrificbang, in proof of the assertion. 

'I beg your pardon, sir, ' said a little prim, wheezing oldgentleman, sitting opposite Dumps, 'I beg your pardon; but have youever observed, when you have been in an omnibus on a wet day, thatfour people out of five always come in with large cotton umbrellas, without a handle at the top, or the brass spike at the bottom?'

'Why, sir, ' returned Dumps, as he heard the clock strike twelve, 'it never struck me before; but now you mention it, I--Hollo!hollo!' shouted the persecuted individual, as the omnibus dashedpast Drury-lane, where he had directed to be set down. --'Where isthe cad?'

'I think he's on the box, sir, ' said the young gentleman beforenoticed in the pink shirt, which looked like a white one ruled withred ink. 

'I want to be set down!' said Dumps in a faint voice, overcome byhis previous efforts. 

'I think these cads want to be SET DOWN, ' returned the attorney'sclerk, chuckling at his sally. 

'Hollo!' cried Dumps again. 

'Hollo!' echoed the passengers. The omnibus passed St. Giles'schurch. 

'Hold hard!' said the conductor; 'I'm blowed if we ha'n't forgotthe gen'lm'n as vas to be set down at Doory-lane. --Now, sir, makehaste, if you please, ' he added, opening the door, and assistingDumps out with as much coolness as if it was 'all right. ' Dumps'sindignation was for once getting the better of his cynicalequanimity. 'Drury-lane!' he gasped, with the voice of a boy in acold bath for the first time. 

'Doory-lane, sir?--yes, sir, --third turning on the right-hand side, sir. '

Dumps's passion was paramount: he clutched his umbrella, and wasstriding off with the firm determination of not paying the fare. The cad, by a remarkable coincidence, happened to entertain adirectly contrary opinion, and Heaven knows how far the altercationwould have proceeded, if it had not been most ably andsatisfactorily brought to a close by the driver. 

'Hollo!' said that respectable person, standing up on the box, andleaning with one hand on the roof of the omnibus. 'Hollo, Tom!tell the gentleman if so be as he feels aggrieved, we will take himup to the Edge-er (Edgeware) Road for nothing, and set him down atDoory-lane when we comes back. He can't reject that, anyhow. '

The argument was irresistible: Dumps paid the disputed sixpence, and in a quarter of an hour was on the staircase of No. 14, GreatRussell-street. 

Everything indicated that preparations were making for thereception of 'a few friends' in the evening. Two dozen extratumblers, and four ditto wine-glasses--looking anything buttransparent, with little bits of straw in them on the slab in thepassage, just arrived. There was a great smell of nutmeg, portwine, and almonds, on the staircase; the covers were taken off thestair-carpet, and the figure of Venus on the first landing lookedas if she were ashamed of the composition-candle in her right hand, which contrasted beautifully with the lamp-blacked drapery of thegoddess of love. The female servant (who looked very warm andbustling) ushered Dumps into a front drawing-room, very prettilyfurnished, with a plentiful sprinkling of little baskets, papertable-mats, china watchmen, pink and gold albums, and rainbow-boundlittle books on the different tables. 

'Ah, uncle!' said Mr. Kitterbell, 'how d'ye do? Allow me--Jemima, my dear--my uncle. I think you've seen Jemima before, sir?'

'Have had the PLEASURE, ' returned big Dumps, his tone and lookmaking it doubtful whether in his life he had ever experienced thesensation. 

'I'm sure, ' said Mrs. Kitterbell, with a languid smile, and aslight cough. 'I'm sure--hem--any friend--of Charles's--hem--muchless a relation, is--'

'I knew you'd say so, my love, ' said little Kitterbell, who, whilehe appeared to be gazing on the opposite houses, was looking at hiswife with a most affectionate air: 'Bless you!' The last twowords were accompanied with a simper, and a squeeze of the hand, which stirred up all Uncle Dumps's bile. 

'Jane, tell nurse to bring down baby, ' said Mrs. Kitterbell, addressing the servant. Mrs. Kitterbell was a tall, thin younglady, with very light hair, and a particularly white face--one ofthose young women who almost invariably, though one hardly knowswhy, recall to one's mind the idea of a cold fillet of veal. Outwent the servant, and in came the nurse, with a remarkably smallparcel in her arms, packed up in a blue mantle trimmed with whitefur. --This was the baby. 

'Now, uncle, ' said Mr. Kitterbell, lifting up that part of themantle which covered the infant's face, with an air of greattriumph, 'WHO do you think he's like?'

'He! he! Yes, who?' said Mrs. K. , putting her arm through herhusband's, and looking up into Dumps's face with an expression ofas much interest as she was capable of displaying. 

'Good God, how small he is!' cried the amiable uncle, starting backwith well-feigned surprise; 'REMARKABLY small indeed. '

'Do you think so?' inquired poor little Kitterbell, rather alarmed. 'He's a monster to what he was--ain't he, nurse?'

'He's a dear, ' said the nurse, squeezing the child, and evading thequestion--not because she scrupled to disguise the fact, butbecause she couldn't afford to throw away the chance of Dumps'shalf-crown. 

'Well, but who is he like?' inquired little Kitterbell. 

Dumps looked at the little pink heap before him, and only thoughtat the moment of the best mode of mortifying the youthful parents. 

'I really don't know WHO he's like, ' he answered, very well knowingthe reply expected of him. 

'Don't you think he's like ME?' inquired his nephew with a knowingair. 

'Oh, DECIDEDLY not!' returned Dumps, with an emphasis not to bemisunderstood. 'Decidedly not like you. --Oh, certainly not. '

'Like Jemima?' asked Kitterbell, faintly. 

'Oh, dear no; not in the least. I'm no judge, of course, in suchcases; but I really think he's more like one of those little carvedrepresentations that one sometimes sees blowing a trumpet on atombstone!' The nurse stooped down over the child, and with greatdifficulty prevented an explosion of mirth. Pa and ma lookedalmost as miserable as their amiable uncle. 

'Well!' said the disappointed little father, 'you'll be better ableto tell what he's like by-and-by. You shall see him this eveningwith his mantle off. '

'Thank you, ' said Dumps, feeling particularly grateful. 

'Now, my love, ' said Kitterbell to his wife, 'it's time we wereoff. We're to meet the other godfather and the godmother at thechurch, uncle, --Mr. And Mrs. Wilson from over the way--uncommonlynice people. My love, are you well wrapped up?'

'Yes, dear. '

'Are you sure you won't have another shawl?' inquired the anxioushusband. 

'No, sweet, ' returned the charming mother, accepting Dumps'sproffered arm; and the little party entered the hackney-coach thatwas to take them to the church; Dumps amusing Mrs. Kitterbell byexpatiating largely on the danger of measles, thrush, teeth-cutting, and other interesting diseases to which children aresubject. 

The ceremony (which occupied about five minutes) passed off withoutanything particular occurring. The clergyman had to dine somedistance from town, and had two churchings, three christenings, anda funeral to perform in something less than an hour. Thegodfathers and godmother, therefore, promised to renounce the deviland all his works--'and all that sort of thing'--as littleKitterbell said--'in less than no time;' and with the exception ofDumps nearly letting the child fall into the font when he handed itto the clergyman, the whole affair went off in the usual business-like and matter-of-course manner, and Dumps re-entered the Bank-gates at two o'clock with a heavy heart, and the painful convictionthat he was regularly booked for an evening party. 

Evening came--and so did Dumps's pumps, black silk stockings, andwhite cravat which he had ordered to be forwarded, per boy, fromPentonville. The depressed godfather dressed himself at a friend'scounting-house, from whence, with his spirits fifty degrees belowproof, he sallied forth--as the weather had cleared up, and theevening was tolerably fine--to walk to Great Russell-street. Slowly he paced up Cheapside, Newgate-street, down Snow-hill, andup Holborn ditto, looking as grim as the figure-head of a man-of-war, and finding out fresh causes of misery at every step. As hewas crossing the corner of Hatton-garden, a man apparentlyintoxicated, rushed against him, and would have knocked him down, had he not been providentially caught by a very genteel young man, who happened to be close to him at the time. The shock sodisarranged Dumps's nerves, as well as his dress, that he couldhardly stand. The gentleman took his arm, and in the kindestmanner walked with him as far as Furnival's Inn. Dumps, for aboutthe first time in his life, felt grateful and polite; and he andthe gentlemanly-looking young man parted with mutual expressions ofgood will. 

'There are at least some well-disposed men in the world, ' ruminatedthe misanthropical Dumps, as he proceeded towards his destination. 

Rat--tat--ta-ra-ra-ra-ra-rat--knocked a hackney-coachman atKitterbell's door, in imitation of a gentleman's servant, just asDumps reached it; and out came an old lady in a large toque, and anold gentleman in a blue coat, and three female copies of the oldlady in pink dresses, and shoes to match. 

'It's a large party, ' sighed the unhappy godfather, wiping theperspiration from his forehead, and leaning against the area-railings. It was some time before the miserable man could musterup courage to knock at the door, and when he did, the smartappearance of a neighbouring greengrocer (who had been hired towait for seven and sixpence, and whose calves alone were worthdouble the money), the lamp in the passage, and the Venus on thelanding, added to the hum of many voices, and the sound of a harpand two violins, painfully convinced him that his surmises were buttoo well founded. 

'How are you?' said little Kitterbell, in a greater bustle thanever, bolting out of the little back parlour with a cork-screw inhis hand, and various particles of sawdust, looking like so manyinverted commas, on his inexpressibles. 

'Good God!' said Dumps, turning into the aforesaid parlour to puthis shoes on, which he had brought in his coat-pocket, and stillmore appalled by the sight of seven fresh-drawn corks, and acorresponding number of decanters. 'How many people are there up-stairs?'

'Oh, not above thirty-five. We've had the carpet taken up in theback drawing-room, and the piano and the card-tables are in thefront. Jemima thought we'd better have a regular sit-down supperin the front parlour, because of the speechifying, and all that. But, Lord! uncle, what's the matter?' continued the excited littleman, as Dumps stood with one shoe on, rummaging his pockets withthe most frightful distortion of visage. 'What have you lost?Your pocket-book?'

'No, ' returned Dumps, diving first into one pocket and then intothe other, and speaking in a voice like Desdemona with the pillowover her mouth. 

'Your card-case? snuff-box? the key of your lodgings?' continuedKitterbell, pouring question on question with the rapidity oflightning. 

'No! no!' ejaculated Dumps, still diving eagerly into his emptypockets. 

'Not--not--the MUG you spoke of this morning?'

'Yes, the MUG!' replied Dumps, sinking into a chair. 

'How COULD you have done it?' inquired Kitterbell. 'Are you sureyou brought it out?'

'Yes! yes! I see it all!' said Dumps, starting up as the ideaflashed across his mind; 'miserable dog that I am--I was born tosuffer. I see it all: it was the gentlemanly-looking young man!'

'Mr. Dumps!' shouted the greengrocer in a stentorian voice, as heushered the somewhat recovered godfather into the drawing-room halfan hour after the above declaration. 'Mr. Dumps!'--everybodylooked at the door, and in came Dumps, feeling about as much out ofplace as a salmon might be supposed to be on a gravel-walk. 

'Happy to see you again, ' said Mrs. Kitterbell, quite unconsciousof the unfortunate man's confusion and misery; 'you must allow meto introduce you to a few of our friends:- my mamma, Mr. Dumps--mypapa and sisters. ' Dumps seized the hand of the mother as warmlyas if she was his own parent, bowed TO the young ladies, andAGAINST a gentleman behind him, and took no notice whatever of thefather, who had been bowing incessantly for three minutes and aquarter. 

'Uncle, ' said little Kitterbell, after Dumps had been introduced toa select dozen or two, 'you must let me lead you to the other endof the room, to introduce you to my friend Danton. Such a splendidfellow!--I'm sure you'll like him--this way, '--Dumps followed astractably as a tame bear. 

Mr. Danton was a young man of about five-and-twenty, with aconsiderable stock of impudence, and a very small share of ideas:he was a great favourite, especially with young ladies of fromsixteen to twenty-six years of age, both inclusive. He couldimitate the French-horn to admiration, sang comic songs mostinimitably, and had the most insinuating way of saying impertinentnothings to his doting female admirers. He had acquired, somehowor other, the reputation of being a great wit, and, accordingly, whenever he opened his mouth, everybody who knew him laughed veryheartily. 

The introduction took place in due form. Mr. Danton bowed, andtwirled a lady's handkerchief, which he held in his hand, in a mostcomic way. Everybody smiled. 

'Very warm, ' said Dumps, feeling it necessary to say something. 

'Yes. It was warmer yesterday, ' returned the brilliant Mr. Danton. --A general laugh. 

'I have great pleasure in congratulating you on your firstappearance in the character of a father, sir, ' he continued, addressing Dumps--'godfather, I mean. '--The young ladies wereconvulsed, and the gentlemen in ecstasies. 

A general hum of admiration interrupted the conversation, andannounced the entrance of nurse with the baby. An universal rushof the young ladies immediately took place. (Girls are always SOfond of babies in company. )

'Oh, you dear!' said one. 

'How sweet!' cried another, in a low tone of the most enthusiasticadmiration. 

'Heavenly!' added a third. 

'Oh! what dear little arms!' said a fourth, holding up an arm andfist about the size and shape of the leg of a fowl cleanly picked. 

'Did you ever!'--said a little coquette with a large bustle, wholooked like a French lithograph, appealing to a gentleman in threewaistcoats--'Did you ever!'

'Never, in my life, ' returned her admirer, pulling up his collar. 

'Oh! DO let me take it, nurse, ' cried another young lady. 'Thelove!'

'Can it open its eyes, nurse?' inquired another, affecting theutmost innocence. --Suffice it to say, that the single ladiesunanimously voted him an angel, and that the married ones, nem. Con. , agreed that he was decidedly the finest baby they had everbeheld--except their own. 

The quadrilles were resumed with great spirit. Mr. Danton wasuniversally admitted to be beyond himself; several young ladiesenchanted the company and gained admirers by singing 'We met'--'Isaw her at the Fancy Fair'--and other equally sentimental andinteresting ballads. 'The young men, ' as Mrs. Kitterbell said, 'made themselves very agreeable;' the girls did not lose theiropportunity; and the evening promised to go off excellently. Dumpsdidn't mind it: he had devised a plan for himself--a little bit offun in his own way--and he was almost happy! He played a rubberand lost every point Mr. Danton said he could not have lost everypoint, because he made a point of losing: everybody laughedtremendously. Dumps retorted with a better joke, and nobodysmiled, with the exception of the host, who seemed to consider ithis duty to laugh till he was black in the face, at everything. There was only one drawback--the musicians did not play with quiteas much spirit as could have been wished. The cause, however, wassatisfactorily explained; for it appeared, on the testimony of agentleman who had come up from Gravesend in the afternoon, thatthey had been engaged on board a steamer all day, and had playedalmost without cessation all the way to Gravesend, and all the wayback again. 

The 'sit-down supper' was excellent; there were four barley-sugartemples on the table, which would have looked beautiful if they hadnot melted away when the supper began; and a water-mill, whose onlyfault was that instead of going round, it ran over the table-cloth. Then there were fowls, and tongue, and trifle, and sweets, andlobster salad, and potted beef--and everything. And littleKitterbell kept calling out for clean plates, and the clean platesdid not come: and then the gentlemen who wanted the plates saidthey didn't mind, they'd take a lady's; and then Mrs. Kitterbellapplauded their gallantry, and the greengrocer ran about till hethought his seven and sixpence was very hardly earned; and theyoung ladies didn't eat much for fear it shouldn't look romantic, and the married ladies eat as much as possible, for fear theyshouldn't have enough; and a great deal of wine was drunk, andeverybody talked and laughed considerably. 

'Hush! hush!' said Mr. Kitterbell, rising and looking veryimportant. 'My love (this was addressed to his wife at the otherend of the table), take care of Mrs. Maxwell, and your mamma, andthe rest of the married ladies; the gentlemen will persuade theyoung ladies to fill their glasses, I am sure. '

'Ladies and gentlemen, ' said long Dumps, in a very sepulchral voiceand rueful accent, rising from his chair like the ghost in DonJuan, 'will you have the kindness to charge your glasses? I amdesirous of proposing a toast. '

A dead silence ensued, and the glasses were filled--everybodylooked serious. 

'Ladies and gentlemen, ' slowly continued the ominous Dumps, 'I'--(here Mr. Danton imitated two notes from the French-horn, in a veryloud key, which electrified the nervous toast-proposer, andconvulsed his audience). 

'Order! order!' said little Kitterbell, endeavouring to suppresshis laughter. 

'Order!' said the gentlemen. 

'Danton, be quiet, ' said a particular friend on the opposite sideof the table. 

'Ladies and gentlemen, ' resumed Dumps, somewhat recovered, and notmuch disconcerted, for he was always a pretty good hand at aspeech--'In accordance with what is, I believe, the establishedusage on these occasions, I, as one of the godfathers of MasterFrederick Charles William Kitterbell--(here the speaker's voicefaltered, for he remembered the mug)--venture to rise to propose atoast. I need hardly say that it is the health and prosperity ofthat young gentleman, the particular event of whose early life weare here met to celebrate--(applause). Ladies and gentlemen, it isimpossible to suppose that our friends here, whose sincere well-wishers we all are, can pass through life without some trials, considerable suffering, severe affliction, and heavy losses!'--Herethe arch-traitor paused, and slowly drew forth a long, whitepocket-handkerchief--his example was followed by several ladies. 'That these trials may be long spared them is my most earnestprayer, my most fervent wish (a distinct sob from the grandmother). I hope and trust, ladies and gentlemen, that the infant whosechristening we have this evening met to celebrate, may not beremoved from the arms of his parents by premature decay (severalcambrics were in requisition): that his young and now APPARENTLYhealthy form, may not be wasted by lingering disease. (Here Dumpscast a sardonic glance around, for a great sensation was manifestamong the married ladies. ) You, I am sure, will concur with me inwishing that he may live to be a comfort and a blessing to hisparents. ("Hear, hear!" and an audible sob from Mr. Kitterbell. )But should he not be what we could wish--should he forget in aftertimes the duty which he owes to them--should they unhappilyexperience that distracting truth, "how sharper than a serpent'stooth it is to have a thankless child"'--Here Mrs. Kitterbell, withher handkerchief to her eyes, and accompanied by several ladies, rushed from the room, and went into violent hysterics in thepassage, leaving her better half in almost as bad a condition, anda general impression in Dumps's favour; for people like sentiment, after all. 

It need hardly be added, that this occurrence quite put a stop tothe harmony of the evening. Vinegar, hartshorn, and cold water, were now as much in request as negus, rout-cakes, and bon-bons hadbeen a short time before. Mrs. Kitterbell was immediately conveyedto her apartment, the musicians were silenced, flirting ceased, andthe company slowly departed. Dumps left the house at thecommencement of the bustle, and walked home with a light step, and(for him) a cheerful heart. His landlady, who slept in the nextroom, has offered to make oath that she heard him laugh, in hispeculiar manner, after he had locked his door. The assertion, however, is so improbable, and bears on the face of it such strongevidence of untruth, that it has never obtained credence to thishour. 

The family of Mr. Kitterbell has considerably increased since theperiod to which we have referred; he has now two sons and adaughter; and as he expects, at no distant period, to have anotheraddition to his blooming progeny, he is anxious to secure aneligible godfather for the occasion. He is determined, however, toimpose upon him two conditions. He must bind himself, by a solemnobligation, not to make any speech after supper; and it isindispensable that he should be in no way connected with 'the mostmiserable man in the world. '

CHAPTER XII--THE DRUNKARD'S DEATH

We will be bold to say, that there is scarcely a man in theconstant habit of walking, day after day, through any of thecrowded thoroughfares of London, who cannot recollect among thepeople whom he 'knows by sight, ' to use a familiar phrase, somebeing of abject and wretched appearance whom he remembers to haveseen in a very different condition, whom he has observed sinkinglower and lower, by almost imperceptible degrees, and theshabbiness and utter destitution of whose appearance, at last, strike forcibly and painfully upon him, as he passes by. Is thereany man who has mixed much with society, or whose avocations havecaused him to mingle, at one time or other, with a great number ofpeople, who cannot call to mind the time when some shabby, miserable wretch, in rags and filth, who shuffles past him now inall the squalor of disease and poverty, with a respectabletradesman, or clerk, or a man following some thriving pursuit, withgood prospects, and decent means?--or cannot any of our readerscall to mind from among the list of their quondam acquaintance, some fallen and degraded man, who lingers about the pavement inhungry misery--from whom every one turns coldly away, and whopreserves himself from sheer starvation, nobody knows how? Alas!such cases are of too frequent occurrence to be rare items in anyman's experience; and but too often arise from one cause--drunkenness--that fierce rage for the slow, sure poison, thatoversteps every other consideration; that casts aside wife, children, friends, happiness, and station; and hurries its victimsmadly on to degradation and death. 

Some of these men have been impelled, by misfortune and misery, tothe vice that has degraded them. The ruin of worldly expectations, the death of those they loved, the sorrow that slowly consumes, butwill not break the heart, has driven them wild; and they presentthe hideous spectacle of madmen, slowly dying by their own hands. But by far the greater part have wilfully, and with open eyes, plunged into the gulf from which the man who once enters it neverrises more, but into which he sinks deeper and deeper down, untilrecovery is hopeless. 

Such a man as this once stood by the bedside of his dying wife, while his children knelt around, and mingled loud bursts of griefwith their innocent prayers. The room was scantily and meanlyfurnished; and it needed but a glance at the pale form from whichthe light of life was fast passing away, to know that grief, andwant, and anxious care, had been busy at the heart for many a wearyyear. An elderly woman, with her face bathed in tears, wassupporting the head of the dying woman--her daughter--on her arm. But it was not towards her that the was face turned; it was not herhand that the cold and trembling fingers clasped; they pressed thehusband's arm; the eyes so soon to be closed in death rested on hisface, and the man shook beneath their gaze. His dress was slovenlyand disordered, his face inflamed, his eyes bloodshot and heavy. He had been summoned from some wild debauch to the bed of sorrowand death. 

A shaded lamp by the bed-side cast a dim light on the figuresaround, and left the remainder of the room in thick, deep shadow. The silence of night prevailed without the house, and the stillnessof death was in the chamber. A watch hung over the mantel-shelf;its low ticking was the only sound that broke the profound quiet, but it was a solemn one, for well they knew, who heard it, thatbefore it had recorded the passing of another hour, it would beatthe knell of a departed spirit. 

It is a dreadful thing to wait and watch for the approach of death;to know that hope is gone, and recovery impossible; and to sit andcount the dreary hours through long, long nights--such nights asonly watchers by the bed of sickness know. It chills the blood tohear the dearest secrets of the heart--the pent-up, hidden secretsof many years--poured forth by the unconscious, helpless beingbefore you; and to think how little the reserve and cunning of awhole life will avail, when fever and delirium tear off the mask atlast. Strange tales have been told in the wanderings of dying men;tales so full of guilt and crime, that those who stood by the sickperson's couch have fled in horror and affright, lest they shouldbe scared to madness by what they heard and saw; and many a wretchhas died alone, raving of deeds the very name of which has driventhe boldest man away. 

But no such ravings were to be heard at the bed-side by which thechildren knelt. Their half-stifled sobs and moaning alone brokethe silence of the lonely chamber. And when at last the mother'sgrasp relaxed, and, turning one look from the children to thefather, she vainly strove to speak, and fell backward on thepillow, all was so calm and tranquil that she seemed to sink tosleep. They leant over her; they called upon her name, softly atfirst, and then in the loud and piercing tones of desperation. Butthere was no reply. They listened for her breath, but no soundcame. They felt for the palpitation of the heart, but no faintthrob responded to the touch. That heart was broken, and she wasdead!

The husband sunk into a chair by the bed-side, and clasped hishands upon his burning forehead. He gazed from child to child, butwhen a weeping eye met his, he quailed beneath its look. No wordof comfort was whispered in his ear, no look of kindness lighted onhis face. All shrunk from and avoided him; and when at last hestaggered from the room, no one sought to follow or console thewidower. 

The time had been when many a friend would have crowded round himin his affliction, and many a heartfelt condolence would have methim in his grief. Where were they now? One by one, friends, relations, the commonest acquaintance even, had fallen off from anddeserted the drunkard. His wife alone had clung to him in good andevil, in sickness and poverty, and how had he rewarded her? He hadreeled from the tavern to her bed-side in time to see her die. 

He rushed from the house, and walked swiftly through the streets. Remorse, fear, shame, all crowded on his mind. Stupefied withdrink, and bewildered with the scene he had just witnessed, he re-entered the tavern he had quitted shortly before. Glass succeededglass. His blood mounted, and his brain whirled round. Death!Every one must die, and why not SHE? She was too good for him; herrelations had often told him so. Curses on them! Had they notdeserted her, and left her to whine away the time at home? Well--she was dead, and happy perhaps. It was better as it was. Anotherglass--one more! Hurrah! It was a merry life while it lasted; andhe would make the most of it. 

Time went on; the three children who were left to him, grew up, andwere children no longer. The father remained the same--poorer, shabbier, and more dissolute-looking, but the same confirmed andirreclaimable drunkard. The boys had, long ago, run wild in thestreets, and left him; the girl alone remained, but she workedhard, and words or blows could always procure him something for thetavern. So he went on in the old course, and a merry life he led. 

One night, as early as ten o'clock--for the girl had been sick formany days, and there was, consequently, little to spend at thepublic-house--he bent his steps homeward, bethinking himself thatif he would have her able to earn money, it would be as well toapply to the parish surgeon, or, at all events, to take the troubleof inquiring what ailed her, which he had not yet thought it worthwhile to do. It was a wet December night; the wind blew piercingcold, and the rain poured heavily down. He begged a few halfpencefrom a passer-by, and having bought a small loaf (for it was hisinterest to keep the girl alive, if he could), he shuffled onwardsas fast as the wind and rain would let him. 

At the back of Fleet-street, and lying between it and the water-side, are several mean and narrow courts, which form a portion ofWhitefriars: it was to one of these that he directed his steps. 

The alley into which he turned, might, for filth and misery, havecompeted with the darkest corner of this ancient sanctuary in itsdirtiest and most lawless time. The houses, varying from twostories in height to four, were stained with every indescribablehue that long exposure to the weather, damp, and rottenness canimpart to tenements composed originally of the roughest andcoarsest materials. The windows were patched with paper, andstuffed with the foulest rags; the doors were falling from theirhinges; poles with lines on which to dry clothes, projected fromevery casement, and sounds of quarrelling or drunkenness issuedfrom every room. 

The solitary oil lamp in the centre of the court had been blownout, either by the violence of the wind or the act of someinhabitant who had excellent reasons for objecting to his residencebeing rendered too conspicuous; and the only light which fell uponthe broken and uneven pavement, was derived from the miserablecandles that here and there twinkled in the rooms of such of themore fortunate residents as could afford to indulge in so expensivea luxury. A gutter ran down the centre of the alley--all thesluggish odours of which had been called forth by the rain; and asthe wind whistled through the old houses, the doors and shutterscreaked upon their hinges, and the windows shook in their frames, with a violence which every moment seemed to threaten thedestruction of the whole place. 

The man whom we have followed into this den, walked on in thedarkness, sometimes stumbling into the main gutter, and at othersinto some branch repositories of garbage which had been formed bythe rain, until he reached the last house in the court. The door, or rather what was left of it, stood ajar, for the convenience ofthe numerous lodgers; and he proceeded to grope his way up the oldand broken stair, to the attic story. 

He was within a step or two of his room door, when it opened, and agirl, whose miserable and emaciated appearance was only to beequalled by that of the candle which she shaded with her hand, peeped anxiously out. 

'Is that you, father?' said the girl. 

'Who else should it be?' replied the man gruffly. 'What are youtrembling at? It's little enough that I've had to drink to-day, for there's no drink without money, and no money without work. What the devil's the matter with the girl?'

'I am not well, father--not at all well, ' said the girl, burstinginto tears. 

'Ah!' replied the man, in the tone of a person who is compelled toadmit a very unpleasant fact, to which he would rather remainblind, if he could. 'You must get better somehow, for we must havemoney. You must go to the parish doctor, and make him give yousome medicine. They're paid for it, damn 'em. What are youstanding before the door for? Let me come in, can't you?'

'Father, ' whispered the girl, shutting the door behind her, andplacing herself before it, 'William has come back. '

'Who!' said the man with a start. 

'Hush, ' replied the girl, 'William; brother William. '

'And what does he want?' said the man, with an effort at composure--'money? meat? drink? He's come to the wrong shop for that, if hedoes. Give me the candle--give me the candle, fool--I ain't goingto hurt him. ' He snatched the candle from her hand, and walkedinto the room. 

Sitting on an old box, with his head resting on his hand, and hiseyes fixed on a wretched cinder fire that was smouldering on thehearth, was a young man of about two-and-twenty, miserably clad inan old coarse jacket and trousers. He started up when his fatherentered. 

'Fasten the door, Mary, ' said the young man hastily--'Fasten thedoor. You look as if you didn't know me, father. It's longenough, since you drove me from home; you may well forget me. '

'And what do you want here, now?' said the father, seating himselfon a stool, on the other side of the fireplace. 'What do you wanthere, now?'

'Shelter, ' replied the son. 'I'm in trouble: that's enough. IfI'm caught I shall swing; that's certain. Caught I shall be, unless I stop here; that's AS certain. And there's an end of it. '

'You mean to say, you've been robbing, or murdering, then?' saidthe father. 

'Yes, I do, ' replied the son. 'Does it surprise you, father?' Helooked steadily in the man's face, but he withdrew his eyes, andbent them on the ground. 

'Where's your brothers?' he said, after a long pause. 

'Where they'll never trouble you, ' replied his son: 'John's goneto America, and Henry's dead. '

'Dead!' said the father, with a shudder, which even he could notexpress. 

'Dead, ' replied the young man. 'He died in my arms--shot like adog, by a gamekeeper. He staggered back, I caught him, and hisblood trickled down my hands. It poured out from his side likewater. He was weak, and it blinded him, but he threw himself downon his knees, on the grass, and prayed to God, that if his motherwas in heaven, He would hear her prayers for pardon for heryoungest son. "I was her favourite boy, Will, " he said, "and I amglad to think, now, that when she was dying, though I was a veryyoung child then, and my little heart was almost bursting, I kneltdown at the foot of the bed, and thanked God for having made me sofond of her as to have never once done anything to bring the tearsinto her eyes. O Will, why was she taken away, and father left?"There's his dying words, father, ' said the young man; 'make thebest you can of 'em. You struck him across the face, in a drunkenfit, the morning we ran away; and here's the end of it. '

The girl wept aloud; and the father, sinking his head upon hisknees, rocked himself to and fro. 

'If I am taken, ' said the young man, 'I shall be carried back intothe country, and hung for that man's murder. They cannot trace mehere, without your assistance, father. For aught I know, you maygive me up to justice; but unless you do, here I stop, until I canventure to escape abroad. '

For two whole days, all three remained in the wretched room, without stirring out. On the third evening, however, the girl wasworse than she had been yet, and the few scraps of food they hadwere gone. It was indispensably necessary that somebody should goout; and as the girl was too weak and ill, the father went, just atnightfall. 

He got some medicine for the girl, and a trifle in the way ofpecuniary assistance. On his way back, he earned sixpence byholding a horse; and he turned homewards with enough money tosupply their most pressing wants for two or three days to come. Hehad to pass the public-house. He lingered for an instant, walkedpast it, turned back again, lingered once more, and finally slunkin. Two men whom he had not observed, were on the watch. Theywere on the point of giving up their search in despair, when hisloitering attracted their attention; and when he entered thepublic-house, they followed him. 

'You'll drink with me, master, ' said one of them, proffering him aglass of liquor. 

'And me too, ' said the other, replenishing the glass as soon as itwas drained of its contents. 

The man thought of his hungry children, and his son's danger. Butthey were nothing to the drunkard. He DID drink; and his reasonleft him. 

'A wet night, Warden, ' whispered one of the men in his ear, as heat length turned to go away, after spending in liquor one-half ofthe money on which, perhaps, his daughter's life depended. 

'The right sort of night for our friends in hiding, Master Warden, 'whispered the other. 

'Sit down here, ' said the one who had spoken first, drawing himinto a corner. 'We have been looking arter the young un. We cameto tell him, it's all right now, but we couldn't find him 'cause wehadn't got the precise direction. But that ain't strange, for Idon't think he know'd it himself, when he come to London, did he?'

'No, he didn't, ' replied the father. 

The two men exchanged glances. 

'There's a vessel down at the docks, to sail at midnight, when it'shigh water, ' resumed the first speaker, 'and we'll put him onboard. His passage is taken in another name, and what's betterthan that, it's paid for. It's lucky we met you. '

'Very, ' said the second. 

'Capital luck, ' said the first, with a wink to his companion. 

'Great, ' replied the second, with a slight nod of intelligence. 

'Another glass here; quick'--said the first speaker. And in fiveminutes more, the father had unconsciously yielded up his own soninto the hangman's hands. 

Slowly and heavily the time dragged along, as the brother andsister, in their miserable hiding-place, listened in anxioussuspense to the slightest sound. At length, a heavy footstep washeard upon the stair; it approached nearer; it reached the landing;and the father staggered into the room. 

The girl saw that he was intoxicated, and advanced with the candlein her hand to meet him; she stopped short, gave a loud scream, andfell senseless on the ground. She had caught sight of the shadowof a man reflected on the floor. They both rushed in, and inanother instant the young man was a prisoner, and handcuffed. 

'Very quietly done, ' said one of the men to his companion, 'thanksto the old man. Lift up the girl, Tom--come, come, it's no usecrying, young woman. It's all over now, and can't be helped. '

The young man stooped for an instant over the girl, and then turnedfiercely round upon his father, who had reeled against the wall, and was gazing on the group with drunken stupidity. 

'Listen to me, father, ' he said, in a tone that made the drunkard'sflesh creep. 'My brother's blood, and mine, is on your head: Inever had kind look, or word, or care, from you, and alive or dead, I never will forgive you. Die when you will, or how, I will bewith you. I speak as a dead man now, and I warn you, father, thatas surely as you must one day stand before your Maker, so surelyshall your children be there, hand in hand, to cry for judgmentagainst you. ' He raised his manacled hands in a threateningattitude, fixed his eyes on his shrinking parent, and slowly leftthe room; and neither father nor sister ever beheld him more, onthis side of the grave. 

When the dim and misty light of a winter's morning penetrated intothe narrow court, and struggled through the begrimed window of thewretched room, Warden awoke from his heavy sleep, and found himselfalone. He rose, and looked round him; the old flock mattress onthe floor was undisturbed; everything was just as he remembered tohave seen it last: and there were no signs of any one, savehimself, having occupied the room during the night. He inquired ofthe other lodgers, and of the neighbours; but his daughter had notbeen seen or heard of. He rambled through the streets, andscrutinised each wretched face among the crowds that thronged them, with anxious eyes. But his search was fruitless, and he returnedto his garret when night came on, desolate and weary. 

For many days he occupied himself in the same manner, but no traceof his daughter did he meet with, and no word of her reached hisears. At length he gave up the pursuit as hopeless. He had longthought of the probability of her leaving him, and endeavouring togain her bread in quiet, elsewhere. She had left him at last tostarve alone. He ground his teeth, and cursed her!

He begged his bread from door to door. Every halfpenny he couldwring from the pity or credulity of those to whom he addressedhimself, was spent in the old way. A year passed over his head;the roof of a jail was the only one that had sheltered him for manymonths. He slept under archways, and in brickfields--anywhere, where there was some warmth or shelter from the cold and rain. Butin the last stage of poverty, disease, and houseless want, he was adrunkard still. 

At last, one bitter night, he sunk down on a door-step faint andill. The premature decay of vice and profligacy had worn him tothe bone. His cheeks were hollow and livid; his eyes were sunken, and their sight was dim. His legs trembled beneath his weight, anda cold shiver ran through every limb. 

And now the long-forgotten scenes of a misspent life crowded thickand fast upon him. He thought of the time when he had a home--ahappy, cheerful home--and of those who peopled it, and flockedabout him then, until the forms of his elder children seemed torise from the grave, and stand about him--so plain, so clear, andso distinct they were that he could touch and feel them. Looksthat he had long forgotten were fixed upon him once more; voiceslong since hushed in death sounded in his ears like the music ofvillage bells. But it was only for an instant. The rain beatheavily upon him; and cold and hunger were gnawing at his heartagain. 

He rose, and dragged his feeble limbs a few paces further. Thestreet was silent and empty; the few passengers who passed by, atthat late hour, hurried quickly on, and his tremulous voice waslost in the violence of the storm. Again that heavy chill struckthrough his frame, and his blood seemed to stagnate beneath it. Hecoiled himself up in a projecting doorway, and tried to sleep. 

But sleep had fled from his dull and glazed eyes. His mindwandered strangely, but he was awake, and conscious. The well-known shout of drunken mirth sounded in his ear, the glass was athis lips, the board was covered with choice rich food--they werebefore him: he could see them all, he had but to reach out hishand, and take them--and, though the illusion was reality itself, he knew that he was sitting alone in the deserted street, watchingthe rain-drops as they pattered on the stones; that death wascoming upon him by inches--and that there were none to care for orhelp him. 

Suddenly he started up, in the extremity of terror. He had heardhis own voice shouting in the night air, he knew not what, or why. Hark! A groan!--another! His senses were leaving him: half-formed and incoherent words burst from his lips; and his handssought to tear and lacerate his flesh. He was going mad, and heshrieked for help till his voice failed him. 

He raised his head, and looked up the long dismal street. Herecollected that outcasts like himself, condemned to wander day andnight in those dreadful streets, had sometimes gone distracted withtheir own loneliness. He remembered to have heard many yearsbefore that a homeless wretch had once been found in a solitarycorner, sharpening a rusty knife to plunge into his own heart, preferring death to that endless, weary, wandering to and fro. Inan instant his resolve was taken, his limbs received new life; heran quickly from the spot, and paused not for breath until hereached the river-side. 

He crept softly down the steep stone stairs that lead from thecommencement of Waterloo Bridge, down to the water's level. Hecrouched into a corner, and held his breath, as the patrol passed. Never did prisoner's heart throb with the hope of liberty and lifehalf so eagerly as did that of the wretched man at the prospect ofdeath. The watch passed close to him, but he remained unobserved;and after waiting till the sound of footsteps had died away in thedistance, he cautiously descended, and stood beneath the gloomyarch that forms the landing-place from the river. 

The tide was in, and the water flowed at his feet. The rain hadceased, the wind was lulled, and all was, for the moment, still andquiet--so quiet, that the slightest sound on the opposite bank, even the rippling of the water against the barges that were mooredthere, was distinctly audible to his ear. The stream stolelanguidly and sluggishly on. Strange and fantastic forms rose tothe surface, and beckoned him to approach; dark gleaming eyespeered from the water, and seemed to mock his hesitation, whilehollow murmurs from behind, urged him onwards. He retreated a fewpaces, took a short run, desperate leap, and plunged into theriver. 

Not five seconds had passed when he rose to the water's surface--but what a change had taken place in that short time, in all histhoughts and feelings! Life--life in any form, poverty, misery, starvation--anything but death. He fought and struggled with thewater that closed over his head, and screamed in agonies of terror. The curse of his own son rang in his ears. The shore--but one footof dry ground--he could almost touch the step. One hand's breadthnearer, and he was saved--but the tide bore him onward, under thedark arches of the bridge, and he sank to the bottom. 

Again he rose, and struggled for life. For one instant--for onebrief instant--the buildings on the river's banks, the lights onthe bridge through which the current had borne him, the blackwater, and the fast-flying clouds, were distinctly visible--oncemore he sunk, and once again he rose. Bright flames of fire shotup from earth to heaven, and reeled before his eyes, while thewater thundered in his ears, and stunned him with its furious roar. 

A week afterwards the body was washed ashore, some miles down theriver, a swollen and disfigured mass. Unrecognised and unpitied, it was borne to the grave; and there it has long since moulderedaway!

SKETCHES OF YOUNG GENTLEMEN

TO THE YOUNG LADIESOF THEUNITED KINGDOM OF GREAT BRITAIN AND IRELAND;ALSOTHE YOUNG LADIESOFTHE PRINCIPALITY OF WALES, AND LIKEWISETHE YOUNG LADIESRESIDENT IN THE ISLES OFGUERNSEY, JERSEY, ALDERNEY, AND SARK, THE HUMBLE DEDICATION OF THEIR DEVOTED ADMIRER, SHEWETH, -

THAT your Dedicator has perused, with feelings of virtuousindignation, a work purporting to be 'Sketches of Young Ladies;'written by Quiz, illustrated by Phiz, and published in one volume, square twelvemo. 

THAT after an attentive and vigilant perusal of the said work, yourDedicator is humbly of opinion that so many libels, upon yourHonourable sex, were never contained in any previously publishedwork, in twelvemo or any other mo. 

THAT in the title page and preface to the said work, yourHonourable sex are described and classified as animals; andalthough your Dedicator is not at present prepared to deny that youARE animals, still he humbly submits that it is not polite to callyou so. 

THAT in the aforesaid preface, your Honourable sex are alsodescribed as Troglodites, which, being a hard word, may, for aughtyour Honourable sex or your Dedicator can say to the contrary, bean injurious and disrespectful appellation. 

THAT the author of the said work applied himself to his task inmalice prepense and with wickedness aforethought; a fact which, your Dedicator contends, is sufficiently demonstrated, by hisassuming the name of Quiz, which, your Dedicator submits, denotes aforegone conclusion, and implies an intention of quizzing. 

THAT in the execution of his evil design, the said Quiz, or authorof the said work, must have betrayed some trust or confidencereposed in him by some members of your Honourable sex, otherwise henever could have acquired so much information relative to themanners and customs of your Honourable sex in general. 

THAT actuated by these considerations, and further moved by variousslanders and insinuations respecting your Honourable sex containedin the said work, square twelvemo, entitled 'Sketches of YoungLadies, ' your Dedicator ventures to produce another work, squaretwelvemo, entitled 'Sketches of Young Gentlemen, ' of which he nowsolicits your acceptance and approval. 

THAT as the Young Ladies are the best companions of the YoungGentlemen, so the Young Gentlemen should be the best companions ofthe Young Ladies; and extending the comparison from animals (toquote the disrespectful language of the said Quiz) to inanimateobjects, your Dedicator humbly suggests, that such of yourHonourable sex as purchased the bane should possess themselves ofthe antidote, and that those of your Honourable sex who were notrash enough to take the first, should lose no time in swallowingthe last, --prevention being in all cases better than cure, as weare informed upon the authority, not only of generalacknowledgment, but also of traditionary wisdom. 

THAT with reference to the said bane and antidote, your Dedicatorhas no further remarks to make, than are comprised in the printeddirections issued with Doctor Morison's pills; namely, thatwhenever your Honourable sex take twenty-five of Number, 1, youwill be pleased to take fifty of Number 2, without delay. 

And your Dedicator shall ever pray, &c. 

THE BASHFUL YOUNG GENTLEMAN

We found ourself seated at a small dinner party the other day, opposite a stranger of such singular appearance and manner, that heirresistibly attracted our attention. 

This was a fresh-coloured young gentleman, with as good a promiseof light whisker as one might wish to see, and possessed of a veryvelvet-like, soft-looking countenance. We do not use the latterterm invidiously, but merely to denote a pair of smooth, plump, highly-coloured cheeks of capacious dimensions, and a mouth ratherremarkable for the fresh hue of the lips than for any marked orstriking expression it presented. His whole face was suffused witha crimson blush, and bore that downcast, timid, retiring look, which betokens a man ill at ease with himself. 

There was nothing in these symptoms to attract more than a passingremark, but our attention had been originally drawn to the bashfulyoung gentleman, on his first appearance in the drawing-room above-stairs, into which he was no sooner introduced, than making his waytowards us who were standing in a window, and wholly neglectingseveral persons who warmly accosted him, he seized our hand withvisible emotion, and pressed it with a convulsive grasp for a goodcouple of minutes, after which he dived in a nervous manner acrossthe room, oversetting in his way a fine little girl of six yearsand a quarter old--and shrouding himself behind some hangings, wasseen no more, until the eagle eye of the hostess detecting him inhis concealment, on the announcement of dinner, he was requested topair off with a lively single lady, of two or three and thirty. 

This most flattering salutation from a perfect stranger, would havegratified us not a little as a token of his having held us in highrespect, and for that reason been desirous of our acquaintance, ifwe had not suspected from the first, that the young gentleman, inmaking a desperate effort to get through the ceremony ofintroduction, had, in the bewilderment of his ideas, shaken handswith us at random. This impression was fully confirmed by thesubsequent behaviour of the bashful young gentleman in question, which we noted particularly, with the view of ascertaining whetherwe were right in our conjecture. 

The young gentleman seated himself at table with evidentmisgivings, and turning sharp round to pay attention to someobservation of his loquacious neighbour, overset his bread. Therewas nothing very bad in this, and if he had had the presence ofmind to let it go, and say nothing about it, nobody but the man whohad laid the cloth would have been a bit the wiser; but the younggentleman in various semi-successful attempts to prevent its fall, played with it a little, as gentlemen in the streets may be seen todo with their hats on a windy day, and then giving the roll a smartrap in his anxiety to catch it, knocked it with great adroitnessinto a tureen of white soup at some distance, to the unspeakableterror and disturbance of a very amiable bald gentleman, who wasdispensing the contents. We thought the bashful young gentlemanwould have gone off in an apoplectic fit, consequent upon theviolent rush of blood to his face at the occurrence of thiscatastrophe. 

From this moment we perceived, in the phraseology of the fancy, that it was 'all up' with the bashful young gentleman, and soindeed it was. Several benevolent persons endeavoured to relievehis embarrassment by taking wine with him, but finding that it onlyaugmented his sufferings, and that after mingling sherry, champagne, hock, and moselle together, he applied the greater partof the mixture externally, instead of internally, they graduallydropped off, and left him to the exclusive care of the talkativelady, who, not noting the wildness of his eye, firmly believed shehad secured a listener. He broke a glass or two in the course ofthe meal, and disappeared shortly afterwards; it is inferred thathe went away in some confusion, inasmuch as he left the house inanother gentleman's coat, and the footman's hat. 

This little incident led us to reflect upon the most prominentcharacteristics of bashful young gentlemen in the abstract; and asthis portable volume will be the great text-book of young ladies inall future generations, we record them here for their guidance andbehoof. 

If the bashful young gentleman, in turning a street corner, chanceto stumble suddenly upon two or three young ladies of hisacquaintance, nothing can exceed his confusion and agitation. Hisfirst impulse is to make a great variety of bows, and dart pastthem, which he does until, observing that they wish to stop, butare uncertain whether to do so or not, he makes several feints ofreturning, which causes them to do the same; and at length, after agreat quantity of unnecessary dodging and falling up against theother passengers, he returns and shakes hands most affectionatelywith all of them, in doing which he knocks out of their graspsundry little parcels, which he hastily picks up, and returns verymuddy and disordered. The chances are that the bashful younggentleman then observes it is very fine weather, and being remindedthat it has only just left off raining for the first time thesethree days, he blushes very much, and smiles as if he had said avery good thing. The young lady who was most anxious to speak, here inquires, with an air of great commiseration, how his dearsister Harriet is to-day; to which the young gentleman, without theslightest consideration, replies with many thanks, that she isremarkably well. 'Well, Mr. Hopkins!' cries the young lady, 'why, we heard she was bled yesterday evening, and have been perfectlymiserable about her. ' 'Oh, ah, ' says the young gentleman, 'so shewas. Oh, she's very ill, very ill indeed. ' The young gentlemanthen shakes his head, and looks very desponding (he has beensmiling perpetually up to this time), and after a short pause, gives his glove a great wrench at the wrist, and says, with astrong emphasis on the adjective, 'GOOD morning, GOOD morning. 'And making a great number of bows in acknowledgment of severallittle messages to his sister, walks backward a few paces, andcomes with great violence against a lamp-post, knocking his hat offin the contact, which in his mental confusion and bodily pain he isgoing to walk away without, until a great roar from a carterattracts his attention, when he picks it up, and tries to smilecheerfully to the young ladies, who are looking back, and who, hehas the satisfaction of seeing, are all laughing heartily. 

At a quadrille party, the bashful young gentleman always remains asnear the entrance of the room as possible, from which position hesmiles at the people he knows as they come in, and sometimes stepsforward to shake hands with more intimate friends: a process whichon each repetition seems to turn him a deeper scarlet than before. He declines dancing the first set or two, observing, in a faintvoice, that he would rather wait a little; but at length isabsolutely compelled to allow himself to be introduced to apartner, when he is led, in a great heat and blushing furiously, across the room to a spot where half-a-dozen unknown ladies arecongregated together. 

'Miss Lambert, let me introduce Mr. Hopkins for the nextquadrille. ' Miss Lambert inclines her head graciously. Mr. Hopkins bows, and his fair conductress disappears, leaving Mr. Hopkins, as he too well knows, to make himself agreeable. Theyoung lady more than half expects that the bashful young gentlemanwill say something, and the bashful young gentleman feeling this, seriously thinks whether he has got anything to say, which, uponmature reflection, he is rather disposed to conclude he has not, since nothing occurs to him. Meanwhile, the young lady, afterseveral inspections of her bouquet, all made in the expectationthat the bashful young gentleman is going to talk, whispers hermamma, who is sitting next her, which whisper the bashful younggentleman immediately suspects (and possibly with very good reason)must be about HIM. In this comfortable condition he remains untilit is time to 'stand up, ' when murmuring a 'Will you allow me?' hegives the young lady his arm, and after inquiring where she willstand, and receiving a reply that she has no choice, conducts herto the remotest corner of the quadrille, and making one attempt atconversation, which turns out a desperate failure, preserves aprofound silence until it is all over, when he walks her twiceround the room, deposits her in her old seat, and retires inconfusion. 

A married bashful gentleman--for these bashful gentlemen do getmarried sometimes; how it is ever brought about, is a mystery tous--a married bashful gentleman either causes his wife to appearbold by contrast, or merges her proper importance in his owninsignificance. Bashful young gentlemen should be cured, oravoided. They are never hopeless, and never will be, while femalebeauty and attractions retain their influence, as any young ladywill find, who may think it worth while on this confident assuranceto take a patient in hand. 

THE OUT-AND-OUT YOUNG GENTLEMAN

Out-and-out young gentlemen may be divided into two classes--thosewho have something to do, and those who have nothing. I shallcommence with the former, because that species come more frequentlyunder the notice of young ladies, whom it is our province to warnand to instruct. 

The out-and-out young gentleman is usually no great dresser, hisinstructions to his tailor being all comprehended in the onegeneral direction to 'make that what's-a-name a regular bang-upsort of thing. ' For some years past, the favourite costume of theout-and-out young gentleman has been a rough pilot coat, with twogilt hooks and eyes to the velvet collar; buttons somewhat largerthan crown-pieces; a black or fancy neckerchief, loosely tied; awide-brimmed hat, with a low crown; tightish inexpressibles, andiron-shod boots. Out of doors he sometimes carries a large ashstick, but only on special occasions, for he prefers keeping hishands in his coat pockets. He smokes at all hours, of course, andswears considerably. 

The out-and-out young gentleman is employed in a city counting-house or solicitor's office, in which he does as little as hepossibly can: his chief places of resort are, the streets, thetaverns, and the theatres. In the streets at evening time, out-and-out young gentlemen have a pleasant custom of walking six oreight abreast, thus driving females and other inoffensive personsinto the road, which never fails to afford them the highestsatisfaction, especially if there be any immediate danger of theirbeing run over, which enhances the fun of the thing materially. Inall places of public resort, the out-and-outers are careful toselect each a seat to himself, upon which he lies at full length, and (if the weather be very dirty, but not in any other case) helies with his knees up, and the soles of his boots planted firmlyon the cushion, so that if any low fellow should ask him to makeroom for a lady, he takes ample revenge upon her dress, withoutgoing at all out of his way to do it. He always sits with his haton, and flourishes his stick in the air while the play isproceeding, with a dignified contempt of the performance; if it bepossible for one or two out-and-out young gentlemen to get up alittle crowding in the passages, they are quite in their element, squeezing, pushing, whooping, and shouting in the most humorousmanner possible. If they can only succeed in irritating thegentleman who has a family of daughters under his charge, they arelike to die with laughing, and boast of it among their companionsfor a week afterwards, adding, that one or two of them were'devilish fine girls, ' and that they really thought the youngestwould have fainted, which was the only thing wanted to render thejoke complete. 

If the out-and-out young gentleman have a mother and sisters, ofcourse he treats them with becoming contempt, inasmuch as they(poor things!) having no notion of life or gaiety, are far tooweak-spirited and moping for him. Sometimes, however, on a birth-day or at Christmas-time, he cannot very well help accompanyingthem to a party at some old friend's, with which view he comes homewhen they have been dressed an hour or two, smelling very stronglyof tobacco and spirits, and after exchanging his rough coat forsome more suitable attire (in which however he loses nothing of theout-and-outer), gets into the coach and grumbles all the way at hisown good nature: his bitter reflections aggravated by therecollection, that Tom Smith has taken the chair at a littleimpromptu dinner at a fighting man's, and that a set-to was to takeplace on a dining-table, between the fighting man and his brother-in-law, which is probably 'coming off' at that very instant. 

As the out-and-out young gentleman is by no means at his ease inladies' society, he shrinks into a corner of the drawing-room whenthey reach the friend's, and unless one of his sisters is kindenough to talk to him, remains there without being much troubled bythe attentions of other people, until he espies, lingering outsidethe door, another gentleman, whom he at once knows, by his air andmanner (for there is a kind of free-masonry in the craft), to be abrother out-and-outer, and towards whom he accordingly makes hisway. Conversation being soon opened by some casual remark, thesecond out-and-outer confidentially informs the first, that he isone of the rough sort and hates that kind of thing, only hecouldn't very well be off coming; to which the other replies, thatthat's just his case--'and I'll tell you what, ' continues the out-and-outer in a whisper, 'I should like a glass of warm brandy andwater just now, '--'Or a pint of stout and a pipe, ' suggests theother out-and-outer. 

The discovery is at once made that they are sympathetic souls; eachof them says at the same moment, that he sees the other understandswhat's what: and they become fast friends at once, more especiallywhen it appears, that the second out-and-outer is no other than agentleman, long favourably known to his familiars as 'Mr. WarmintBlake, ' who upon divers occasions has distinguished himself in amanner that would not have disgraced the fighting man, and who--having been a pretty long time about town--had the honour of onceshaking hands with the celebrated Mr. Thurtell himself. 

At supper, these gentlemen greatly distinguish themselves, brightening up very much when the ladies leave the table, andproclaiming aloud their intention of beginning to spend theevening--a process which is generally understood to besatisfactorily performed, when a great deal of wine is drunk and agreat deal of noise made, both of which feats the out-and-out younggentlemen execute to perfection. Having protracted their sittinguntil long after the host and the other guests have adjourned tothe drawing-room, and finding that they have drained the decantersempty, they follow them thither with complexions rather heightened, and faces rather bloated with wine; and the agitated lady of thehouse whispers her friends as they waltz together, to the greatterror of the whole room, that 'both Mr. Blake and Mr. Dummins arevery nice sort of young men in their way, only they are eccentricpersons, and unfortunately RATHER TOO WILD!'

The remaining class of out-and-out young gentlemen is composed ofpersons, who, having no money of their own and a soul above earningany, enjoy similar pleasures, nobody knows how. These respectablegentlemen, without aiming quite so much at the out-and-out inexternal appearance, are distinguished by all the same amiable andattractive characteristics, in an equal or perhaps greater degree, and now and then find their way into society, through the medium ofthe other class of out-and-out young gentlemen, who will sometimescarry them home, and who usually pay their tavern bills. As theyare equally gentlemanly, clever, witty, intelligent, wise, andwell-bred, we need scarcely have recommended them to the peculiarconsideration of the young ladies, if it were not that some of thegentle creatures whom we hold in such high respect, are perhaps alittle too apt to confound a great many heavier terms with thelight word eccentricity, which we beg them henceforth to take in astrictly Johnsonian sense, without any liberality or latitude ofconstruction. 

THE VERY FRIENDLY YOUNG GENTLEMAN

We know--and all people know--so many specimens of this class, thatin selecting the few heads our limits enable us to take from agreat number, we have been induced to give the very friendly younggentleman the preference over many others, to whose claims upon amore cursory view of the question we had felt disposed to assignthe priority. 

The very friendly young gentleman is very friendly to everybody, but he attaches himself particularly to two, or at most to threefamilies: regulating his choice by their dinners, their circle ofacquaintance, or some other criterion in which he has an immediateinterest. He is of any age between twenty and forty, unmarried ofcourse, must be fond of children, and is expected to make himselfgenerally useful if possible. Let us illustrate our meaning by anexample, which is the shortest mode and the clearest. 

We encountered one day, by chance, an old friend of whom we hadlost sight for some years, and who--expressing a strong anxiety torenew our former intimacy--urged us to dine with him on an earlyday, that we might talk over old times. We readily assented, adding, that we hoped we should be alone. 'Oh, certainly, certainly, ' said our friend, 'not a soul with us but Mincin. ' 'Andwho is Mincin?' was our natural inquiry. 'O don't mind him, 'replied our friend, 'he's a most particular friend of mine, and avery friendly fellow you will find him;' and so he left us. 

'We thought no more about Mincin until we duly presented ourselvesat the house next day, when, after a hearty welcome, our friendmotioned towards a gentleman who had been previously showing histeeth by the fireplace, and gave us to understand that it was Mr. Mincin, of whom he had spoken. It required no great penetration onour part to discover at once that Mr. Mincin was in every respect avery friendly young gentleman. 

'I am delighted, ' said Mincin, hastily advancing, and pressing ourhand warmly between both of his, 'I am delighted, I am sure, tomake your acquaintance--(here he smiled)--very much delightedindeed--(here he exhibited a little emotion)--I assure you that Ihave looked forward to it anxiously for a very long time:' here hereleased our hands, and rubbing his own, observed, that the day wassevere, but that he was delighted to perceive from our appearancethat it agreed with us wonderfully; and then went on to observe, that, notwithstanding the coldness of the weather, he had thatmorning seen in the paper an exceedingly curious paragraph, to theeffect, that there was now in the garden of Mr. Wilkins ofChichester, a pumpkin, measuring four feet in height, and elevenfeet seven inches in circumference, which he looked upon as a veryextraordinary piece of intelligence. We ventured to remark, thatwe had a dim recollection of having once or twice before observed asimilar paragraph in the public prints, upon which Mr. Mincin tookus confidentially by the button, and said, Exactly, exactly, to besure, we were very right, and he wondered what the editors meant byputting in such things. Who the deuce, he should like to know, didthey suppose cared about them? that struck him as being the best ofit. 

The lady of the house appeared shortly afterwards, and Mr. Mincin'sfriendliness, as will readily be supposed, suffered no diminutionin consequence; he exerted much strength and skill in wheeling alarge easy-chair up to the fire, and the lady being seated in it, carefully closed the door, stirred the fire, and looked to thewindows to see that they admitted no air; having satisfied himselfupon all these points, he expressed himself quite easy in his mind, and begged to know how she found herself to-day. Upon the lady'sreplying very well, Mr. Mincin (who it appeared was a medicalgentleman) offered some general remarks upon the nature andtreatment of colds in the head, which occupied us agreeably untildinner-time. During the meal, he devoted himself to complimentingeverybody, not forgetting himself, so that we were an uncommonlyagreeable quartette. 

'I'll tell you what, Capper, ' said Mr. Mincin to our host, as heclosed the room door after the lady had retired, 'you have verygreat reason to be fond of your wife. Sweet woman, Mrs. Capper, sir!' 'Nay, Mincin--I beg, ' interposed the host, as we were aboutto reply that Mrs. Capper unquestionably was particularly sweet. 'Pray, Mincin, don't. ' 'Why not?' exclaimed Mr. Mincin, 'why not?Why should you feel any delicacy before your old friend--OUR oldfriend, if I may be allowed to call you so, sir; why should you, Iask?' We of course wished to know why he should also, upon whichour friend admitted that Mrs. Capper WAS a very sweet woman, atwhich admission Mr. Mincin cried 'Bravo!' and begged to proposeMrs. Capper with heartfelt enthusiasm, whereupon our host said, 'Thank you, Mincin, ' with deep feeling; and gave us, in a lowvoice, to understand, that Mincin had saved Mrs. Capper's cousin'slife no less than fourteen times in a year and a half, which heconsidered no common circumstance--an opinion to which we mostcordially subscribed. 

Now that we three were left to entertain ourselves withconversation, Mr. Mincin's extreme friendliness became every momentmore apparent; he was so amazingly friendly, indeed, that it wasimpossible to talk about anything in which he had not the chiefconcern. We happened to allude to some affairs in which our friendand we had been mutually engaged nearly fourteen years before, whenMr. Mincin was all at once reminded of a joke which our friend hadmade on that day four years, which he positively must insist upontelling--and which he did tell accordingly, with many pleasantrecollections of what he said, and what Mrs. Capper said, and howhe well remembered that they had been to the play with orders onthe very night previous, and had seen Romeo and Juliet, and thepantomime, and how Mrs. Capper being faint had been led into thelobby, where she smiled, said it was nothing after all, and wentback again, with many other interesting and absorbing particulars:after which the friendly young gentleman went on to assure us, thatour friend had experienced a marvellously prophetic opinion of thatsame pantomime, which was of such an admirable kind, that twomorning papers took the same view next day: to this our friendreplied, with a little triumph, that in that instance he had somereason to think he had been correct, which gave the friendly younggentleman occasion to believe that our friend was always correct;and so we went on, until our friend, filling a bumper, said he mustdrink one glass to his dear friend Mincin, than whom he would sayno man saved the lives of his acquaintances more, or had a morefriendly heart. Finally, our friend having emptied his glass, said, 'God bless you, Mincin, '--and Mr. Mincin and he shook handsacross the table with much affection and earnestness. 

But great as the friendly young gentleman is, in a limited scenelike this, he plays the same part on a larger scale with increasedeclat. Mr. Mincin is invited to an evening party with his dearfriends the Martins, where he meets his dear friends the Cappers, and his dear friends the Watsons, and a hundred other dear friendstoo numerous to mention. He is as much at home with the Martins aswith the Cappers; but how exquisitely he balances his attentions, and divides them among his dear friends! If he flirts with one ofthe Miss Watsons, he has one little Martin on the sofa pulling hishair, and the other little Martin on the carpet riding on his foot. He carries Mrs. Watson down to supper on one arm, and Miss Martinon the other, and takes wine so judiciously, and in such exactorder, that it is impossible for the most punctilious old lady toconsider herself neglected. If any young lady, being prevailedupon to sing, become nervous afterwards, Mr. Mincin leads hertenderly into the next room, and restores her with port wine, whichshe must take medicinally. If any gentleman be standing by thepiano during the progress of the ballad, Mr. Mincin seizes him bythe arm at one point of the melody, and softly beating time thewhile with his head, expresses in dumb show his intense perceptionof the delicacy of the passage. If anybody's self-love is to beflattered, Mr. Mincin is at hand. If anybody's overweening vanityis to be pampered, Mr. Mincin will surfeit it. What wonder thatpeople of all stations and ages recognise Mr. Mincin'sfriendliness; that he is universally allowed to be handsome asamiable; that mothers think him an oracle, daughters a dear, brothers a beau, and fathers a wonder! And who would not have thereputation of the very friendly young gentleman?

THE MILITARY YOUNG GENTLEMAN

We are rather at a loss to imagine how it has come to pass thatmilitary young gentlemen have obtained so much favour in the eyesof the young ladies of this kingdom. We cannot think so lightly ofthem as to suppose that the mere circumstance of a man's wearing ared coat ensures him a ready passport to their regard; and even ifthis were the case, it would be no satisfactory explanation of thecircumstance, because, although the analogy may in some degree holdgood in the case of mail coachmen and guards, still general postmenwear red coats, and THEY are not to our knowledge better receivedthan other men; nor are firemen either, who wear (or used to wear)not only red coats, but very resplendent and massive badgesbesides--much larger than epaulettes. Neither do the twopennypost-office boys, if the result of our inquiries be correct, findany peculiar favour in woman's eyes, although they wear very brightred jackets, and have the additional advantage of constantlyappearing in public on horseback, which last circumstance may benaturally supposed to be greatly in their favour. 

We have sometimes thought that this phenomenon may take its rise inthe conventional behaviour of captains and colonels and othergentlemen in red coats on the stage, where they are invariablyrepresented as fine swaggering fellows, talking of nothing butcharming girls, their king and country, their honour, and theirdebts, and crowing over the inferior classes of the community, whomthey occasionally treat with a little gentlemanly swindling, noless to the improvement and pleasure of the audience, than to thesatisfaction and approval of the choice spirits who consort withthem. But we will not devote these pages to our speculations uponthe subject, inasmuch as our business at the present moment is notso much with the young ladies who are bewitched by her Majesty'slivery as with the young gentlemen whose heads are turned by it. For 'heads' we had written 'brains;' but upon consideration, wethink the former the more appropriate word of the two. 

These young gentlemen may be divided into two classes--younggentlemen who are actually in the army, and young gentlemen who, having an intense and enthusiastic admiration for all thingsappertaining to a military life, are compelled by adverse fortuneor adverse relations to wear out their existence in some ignoblecounting-house. We will take this latter description of militaryyoung gentlemen first. 

The whole heart and soul of the military young gentleman areconcentrated in his favourite topic. There is nothing that he isso learned upon as uniforms; he will tell you, without falteringfor an instant, what the habiliments of any one regiment are turnedup with, what regiment wear stripes down the outside and inside ofthe leg, and how many buttons the Tenth had on their coats; heknows to a fraction how many yards and odd inches of gold lace ittakes to make an ensign in the Guards; is deeply read in thecomparative merits of different bands, and the apparelling oftrumpeters; and is very luminous indeed in descanting upon 'crackregiments, ' and the 'crack' gentlemen who compose them, of whosemightiness and grandeur he is never tired of telling. 

We were suggesting to a military young gentleman only the otherday, after he had related to us several dazzling instances of theprofusion of half-a-dozen honourable ensign somebodies or nobodiesin the articles of kid gloves and polished boots, that possibly'cracked' regiments would be an improvement upon 'crack, ' as beinga more expressive and appropriate designation, when he suddenlyinterrupted us by pulling out his watch, and observing that he musthurry off to the Park in a cab, or he would be too late to hear theband play. Not wishing to interfere with so important anengagement, and being in fact already slightly overwhelmed by theanecdotes of the honourable ensigns afore-mentioned, we made noattempt to detain the military young gentleman, but parted companywith ready good-will. 

Some three or four hours afterwards, we chanced to be walking downWhitehall, on the Admiralty side of the way, when, as we drew nearto one of the little stone places in which a couple of horsesoldiers mount guard in the daytime, we were attracted by themotionless appearance and eager gaze of a young gentleman, who wasdevouring both man and horse with his eyes, so eagerly, that heseemed deaf and blind to all that was passing around him. We werenot much surprised at the discovery that it was our friend, themilitary young gentleman, but we WERE a little astonished when wereturned from a walk to South Lambeth to find him still there, looking on with the same intensity as before. As it was a verywindy day, we felt bound to awaken the young gentleman from hisreverie, when he inquired of us with great enthusiasm, whether'that was not a glorious spectacle, ' and proceeded to give us adetailed account of the weight of every article of the spectacle'strappings, from the man's gloves to the horse's shoes. 

We have made it a practice since, to take the Horse Guards in ourdaily walk, and we find it is the custom of military younggentlemen to plant themselves opposite the sentries, andcontemplate them at leisure, in periods varying from fifteenminutes to fifty, and averaging twenty-five. We were much struck aday or two since, by the behaviour of a very promising youngbutcher who (evincing an interest in the service, which cannot betoo strongly commanded or encouraged), after a prolonged inspectionof the sentry, proceeded to handle his boots with great curiosity, and as much composure and indifference as if the man were wax-work. 

But the really military young gentleman is waiting all this time, and at the very moment that an apology rises to our lips, heemerges from the barrack gate (he is quartered in a garrison town), and takes the way towards the high street. He wears his undressuniform, which somewhat mars the glory of his outward man; butstill how great, how grand, he is! What a happy mixture of easeand ferocity in his gait and carriage, and how lightly he carriesthat dreadful sword under his arm, making no more ado about it thanif it were a silk umbrella! The lion is sleeping: only think ifan enemy were in sight, how soon he'd whip it out of the scabbard, and what a terrible fellow he would be!

But he walks on, thinking of nothing less than blood and slaughter;and now he comes in sight of three other military young gentlemen, arm-in-arm, who are bearing down towards him, clanking their ironheels on the pavement, and clashing their swords with a noise, which should cause all peaceful men to quail at heart. They stopto talk. See how the flaxen-haired young gentleman with the weaklegs--he who has his pocket-handkerchief thrust into the breast ofhis coat-glares upon the fainthearted civilians who linger to lookupon his glory; how the next young gentleman elevates his head inthe air, and majestically places his arms a-kimbo, while the thirdstands with his legs very wide apart, and clasps his hands behindhim. Well may we inquire--not in familiar jest, but in respectfulearnest--if you call that nothing. Oh! if some encroaching foreignpower--the Emperor of Russia, for instance, or any of those deepfellows, could only see those military young gentlemen as they moveon together towards the billiard-room over the way, wouldn't hetremble a little!

And then, at the Theatre at night, when the performances are bycommand of Colonel Fitz-Sordust and the officers of the garrison--what a splendid sight it is! How sternly the defenders of theircountry look round the house as if in mute assurance to theaudience, that they may make themselves comfortable regarding anyforeign invasion, for they (the military young gentlemen) arekeeping a sharp look-out, and are ready for anything. And what acontrast between them, and that stage-box full of grey-headedofficers with tokens of many battles about them, who have nothingat all in common with the military young gentlemen, and who--butfor an old-fashioned kind of manly dignity in their looks andbearing--might be common hard-working soldiers for anything theytake the pains to announce to the contrary!

Ah! here is a family just come in who recognise the flaxen-headedyoung gentleman; and the flaxen-headed young gentleman recognisesthem too, only he doesn't care to show it just now. Very well doneindeed! He talks louder to the little group of military younggentlemen who are standing by him, and coughs to induce some ladiesin the next box but one to look round, in order that their facesmay undergo the same ordeal of criticism to which they havesubjected, in not a wholly inaudible tone, the majority of thefemale portion of the audience. Oh! a gentleman in the same boxlooks round as if he were disposed to resent this as animpertinence; and the flaxen-headed young gentleman sees hisfriends at once, and hurries away to them with the most charmingcordiality. 

Three young ladies, one young man, and the mamma of the party, receive the military young gentleman with great warmth andpoliteness, and in five minutes afterwards the military younggentleman, stimulated by the mamma, introduces the two othermilitary young gentlemen with whom he was walking in the morning, who take their seats behind the young ladies and commenceconversation; whereat the mamma bestows a triumphant bow upon arival mamma, who has not succeeded in decoying any military younggentlemen, and prepares to consider her visitors from that momentthree of the most elegant and superior young gentlemen in the wholeworld. 

THE POLITICAL YOUNG GENTLEMAN

Once upon a time--NOT in the days when pigs drank wine, but in amore recent period of our history--it was customary to banishpolitics when ladies were present. If this usage still prevailed, we should have had no chapter for political young gentlemen, forladies would have neither known nor cared what kind of monster apolitical young gentleman was. But as this good custom in commonwith many others has 'gone out, ' and left no word when it is likelyto be home again; as political young ladies are by no means rare, and political young gentlemen the very reverse of scarce, we arebound in the strict discharge of our most responsible duty not toneglect this natural division of our subject. 

If the political young gentleman be resident in a country town (andthere ARE political young gentlemen in country towns sometimes), heis wholly absorbed in his politics; as a pair of purple spectaclescommunicate the same uniform tint to all objects near and remote, so the political glasses, with which the young gentleman assistshis mental vision, give to everything the hue and tinge of partyfeeling. The political young gentleman would as soon think ofbeing struck with the beauty of a young lady in the oppositeinterest, as he would dream of marrying his sister to the oppositemember. 

If the political young gentleman be a Conservative, he has usuallysome vague ideas about Ireland and the Pope which he cannot veryclearly explain, but which he knows are the right sort of thing, and not to be very easily got over by the other side. He has alsosome choice sentences regarding church and state, culled from thebanners in use at the last election, with which he intersperses hisconversation at intervals with surprising effect. But his greattopic is the constitution, upon which he will declaim, by the hourtogether, with much heat and fury; not that he has any particularinformation on the subject, but because he knows that theconstitution is somehow church and state, and church and statesomehow the constitution, and that the fellows on the other sidesay it isn't, which is quite a sufficient reason for him to say itis, and to stick to it. 

Perhaps his greatest topic of all, though, is the people. If afight takes place in a populous town, in which many noses arebroken, and a few windows, the young gentleman throws down thenewspaper with a triumphant air, and exclaims, 'Here's yourprecious people!' If half-a-dozen boys run across the course atrace time, when it ought to be kept clear, the young gentlemanlooks indignantly round, and begs you to observe the conduct of thepeople; if the gallery demand a hornpipe between the play and theafterpiece, the same young gentleman cries 'No' and 'Shame' till heis hoarse, and then inquires with a sneer what you think of popularmoderation NOW; in short, the people form a never-failing theme forhim; and when the attorney, on the side of his candidate, dwellsupon it with great power of eloquence at election time, as he neverfails to do, the young gentleman and his friends, and the body theyhead, cheer with great violence against THE OTHER PEOPLE, withwhom, of course, they have no possible connexion. In much the samemanner the audience at a theatre never fail to be highly amusedwith any jokes at the expense of the public--always laughingheartily at some other public, and never at themselves. 

If the political young gentleman be a Radical, he is usually a veryprofound person indeed, having great store of theoretical questionsto put to you, with an infinite variety of possible cases andlogical deductions therefrom. If he be of the utilitarian school, too, which is more than probable, he is particularly pleasantcompany, having many ingenious remarks to offer upon the voluntaryprinciple and various cheerful disquisitions connected with thepopulation of the country, the position of Great Britain in thescale of nations, and the balance of power. Then he is exceedinglywell versed in all doctrines of political economy as laid down inthe newspapers, and knows a great many parliamentary speeches byheart; nay, he has a small stock of aphorisms, none of themexceeding a couple of lines in length, which will settle thetoughest question and leave you nothing to say. He gives all theyoung ladies to understand, that Miss Martineau is the greatestwoman that ever lived; and when they praise the good looks of Mr. Hawkins the new member, says he's very well for a representative, all things considered, but he wants a little calling to account, and he is more than half afraid it will be necessary to bring himdown on his knees for that vote on the miscellaneous estimates. Atthis, the young ladies express much wonderment, and say surely aMember of Parliament is not to be brought upon his knees so easily;in reply to which the political young gentleman smiles sternly, andthrows out dark hints regarding the speedy arrival of that day, when Members of Parliament will be paid salaries, and required torender weekly accounts of their proceedings, at which the youngladies utter many expressions of astonishment and incredulity, while their lady-mothers regard the prophecy as little else thanblasphemous. 

It is extremely improving and interesting to hear two politicalyoung gentlemen, of diverse opinions, discuss some great questionacross a dinner-table; such as, whether, if the public wereadmitted to Westminster Abbey for nothing, they would or would notconvey small chisels and hammers in their pockets, and immediatelyset about chipping all the noses off the statues; or whether, ifthey once got into the Tower for a shilling, they would not insistupon trying the crown on their own heads, and loading and firingoff all the small arms in the armoury, to the great discomposure ofWhitechapel and the Minories. Upon these, and many other momentousquestions which agitate the public mind in these desperate days, they will discourse with great vehemence and irritation for aconsiderable time together, both leaving off precisely where theybegan, and each thoroughly persuaded that he has got the better ofthe other. 

In society, at assemblies, balls, and playhouses, these politicalyoung gentlemen are perpetually on the watch for a politicalallusion, or anything which can be tortured or construed into beingone; when, thrusting themselves into the very smallest openings fortheir favourite discourse, they fall upon the unhappy company toothand nail. They have recently had many favourable opportunities ofopening in churches, but as there the clergyman has it all his ownway, and must not be contradicted, whatever politics he preaches, they are fain to hold their tongues until they reach the outerdoor, though at the imminent risk of bursting in the effort. 

As such discussions can please nobody but the talkative partiesconcerned, we hope they will henceforth take the hint anddiscontinue them, otherwise we now give them warning, that theladies have our advice to discountenance such talkers altogether. 

THE DOMESTIC YOUNG GENTLEMAN

Let us make a slight sketch of our amiable friend, Mr. Felix Nixon. We are strongly disposed to think, that if we put him in thisplace, he will answer our purpose without another word of comment. 

Felix, then, is a young gentleman who lives at home with hismother, just within the twopenny-post office circle of three milesfrom St. Martin-le-Grand. He wears Indiarubber goloshes when theweather is at all damp, and always has a silk handkerchief neatlyfolded up in the right-hand pocket of his great-coat, to tie overhis mouth when he goes home at night; moreover, being rather near-sighted, he carries spectacles for particular occasions, and has aweakish tremulous voice, of which he makes great use, for he talksas much as any old lady breathing. 

The two chief subjects of Felix's discourse, are himself and hismother, both of whom would appear to be very wonderful andinteresting persons. As Felix and his mother are seldom apart inbody, so Felix and his mother are scarcely ever separate in spirit. If you ask Felix how he finds himself to-day, he prefaces his replywith a long and minute bulletin of his mother's state of health;and the good lady in her turn, edifies her acquaintance with acircumstantial and alarming account, how he sneezed four times andcoughed once after being out in the rain the other night, buthaving his feet promptly put into hot water, and his head into aflannel-something, which we will not describe more particularlythan by this delicate allusion, was happily brought round by thenext morning, and enabled to go to business as usual. 

Our friend is not a very adventurous or hot-headed person, but hehas passed through many dangers, as his mother can testify: thereis one great story in particular, concerning a hackney coachman whowanted to overcharge him one night for bringing them home from theplay, upon which Felix gave the aforesaid coachman a look which hismother thought would have crushed him to the earth, but which didnot crush him quite, for he continued to demand another sixpence, notwithstanding that Felix took out his pocket-book, and, with theaid of a flat candle, pointed out the fare in print, which thecoachman obstinately disregarding, he shut the street-door with aslam which his mother shudders to think of; and then, roused to themost appalling pitch of passion by the coachman knocking a doubleknock to show that he was by no means convinced, he broke withuncontrollable force from his parent and the servant girl, andrunning into the street without his hat, actually shook his fist atthe coachman, and came back again with a face as white, Mrs. Nixonsays, looking about her for a simile, as white as that ceiling. She never will forget his fury that night, Never!

To this account Felix listens with a solemn face, occasionallylooking at you to see how it affects you, and when his mother hasmade an end of it, adds that he looked at every coachman he met forthree weeks afterwards, in hopes that he might see the scoundrel;whereupon Mrs. Nixon, with an exclamation of terror, requests toknow what he would have done to him if he HAD seen him, at whichFelix smiling darkly and clenching his right fist, she exclaims, 'Goodness gracious!' with a distracted air, and insists uponextorting a promise that he never will on any account do anythingso rash, which her dutiful son--it being something more than threeyears since the offence was committed--reluctantly concedes, andhis mother, shaking her head prophetically, fears with a sigh thathis spirit will lead him into something violent yet. The discoursethen, by an easy transition, turns upon the spirit which glowswithin the bosom of Felix, upon which point Felix himself becomeseloquent, and relates a thrilling anecdote of the time when he usedto sit up till two o'clock in the morning reading French, and howhis mother used to say, 'Felix, you will make yourself ill, I knowyou will;' and how HE used to say, 'Mother, I don't care--I will doit;' and how at last his mother privately procured a doctor to comeand see him, who declared, the moment he felt his pulse, that if hehad gone on reading one night more--only one night more--he musthave put a blister on each temple, and another between hisshoulders; and who, as it was, sat down upon the instant, andwriting a prescription for a blue pill, said it must be takenimmediately, or he wouldn't answer for the consequences. Therecital of these and many other moving perils of the like nature, constantly harrows up the feelings of Mr. Nixon's friends. 

Mrs. Nixon has a tolerably extensive circle of female acquaintance, being a good-humoured, talkative, bustling little body, and to theunmarried girls among them she is constantly vaunting the virtuesof her son, hinting that she will be a very happy person who winshim, but that they must mind their P's and Q's, for he is veryparticular, and terribly severe upon young ladies. At this lastcaution the young ladies resident in the same row, who happen to bespending the evening there, put their pocket-handkerchiefs beforetheir mouths, and are troubled with a short cough; just then Felixknocks at the door, and his mother drawing the tea-table nearer thefire, calls out to him as he takes off his boots in the backparlour that he needn't mind coming in in his slippers, for thereare only the two Miss Greys and Miss Thompson, and she is quitesure they will excuse HIM, and nodding to the two Miss Greys, sheadds, in a whisper, that Julia Thompson is a great favourite withFelix, at which intelligence the short cough comes again, and MissThompson in particular is greatly troubled with it, till Felixcoming in, very faint for want of his tea, changes the subject ofdiscourse, and enables her to laugh out boldly and tell Amelia Greynot to be so foolish. Here they all three laugh, and Mrs. Nixonsays they are giddy girls; in which stage of the proceedings, Felix, who has by this time refreshened himself with the gratefulherb that 'cheers but not inebriates, ' removes his cup from hiscountenance and says with a knowing smile, that all girls are;whereat his admiring mamma pats him on the back and tells him notto be sly, which calls forth a general laugh from the young ladies, and another smile from Felix, who, thinking he looks very slyindeed, is perfectly satisfied. 

Tea being over, the young ladies resume their work, and Felixinsists upon holding a skein of silk while Miss Thompson winds iton a card. This process having been performed to the satisfactionof all parties, he brings down his flute in compliance with arequest from the youngest Miss Grey, and plays divers tunes out ofa very small music-book till supper-time, when he is very facetiousand talkative indeed. Finally, after half a tumblerful of warmsherry and water, he gallantly puts on his goloshes over hisslippers, and telling Miss Thompson's servant to run on first andget the door open, escorts that young lady to her house, five doorsoff: the Miss Greys who live in the next house but one stopping topeep with merry faces from their own door till he comes back again, when they call out 'Very well, Mr. Felix, ' and trip into thepassage with a laugh more musical than any flute that was everplayed. 

Felix is rather prim in his appearance, and perhaps a littlepriggish about his books and flute, and so forth, which have alltheir peculiar corners of peculiar shelves in his bedroom; indeedall his female acquaintance (and they are good judges) have longago set him down as a thorough old bachelor. He is a favouritewith them however, in a certain way, as an honest, inoffensive, kind-hearted creature; and as his peculiarities harm nobody, noteven himself, we are induced to hope that many who are notpersonally acquainted with him will take our good word in hisbehalf, and be content to leave him to a long continuance of hisharmless existence. 

THE CENSORIOUS YOUNG GENTLEMAN

There is an amiable kind of young gentleman going about in society, upon whom, after much experience of him, and considerable turningover of the subject in our mind, we feel it our duty to affix theabove appellation. Young ladies mildly call him a 'sarcastic'young gentleman, or a 'severe' young gentleman. We, who knowbetter, beg to acquaint them with the fact, that he is merely acensorious young gentleman, and nothing else. 

The censorious young gentleman has the reputation among hisfamiliars of a remarkably clever person, which he maintains byreceiving all intelligence and expressing all opinions with adubious sneer, accompanied with a half smile, expressive ofanything you please but good-humour. This sets people aboutthinking what on earth the censorious young gentleman means, andthey speedily arrive at the conclusion that he means something verydeep indeed; for they reason in this way--'This young gentlemanlooks so very knowing that he must mean something, and as I am byno means a dull individual, what a very deep meaning he must haveif I can't find it out!' It is extraordinary how soon a censoriousyoung gentleman may make a reputation in his own small circle if hebear this in his mind, and regulate his proceedings accordingly. 

As young ladies are generally--not curious, but laudably desirousto acquire information, the censorious young gentleman is muchtalked about among them, and many surmises are hazarded regardinghim. 'I wonder, ' exclaims the eldest Miss Greenwood, laying downher work to turn up the lamp, 'I wonder whether Mr. Fairfax willever be married. ' 'Bless me, dear, ' cries Miss Marshall, 'whatever made you think of him?' 'Really I hardly know, ' replies MissGreenwood; 'he is such a very mysterious person, that I oftenwonder about him. ' 'Well, to tell you the truth, ' replies MissMarshall, 'and so do I. ' Here two other young ladies profess thatthey are constantly doing the like, and all present appear in thesame condition except one young lady, who, not scrupling to statethat she considers Mr. Fairfax 'a horror, ' draws down all theopposition of the others, which having been expressed in a greatmany ejaculatory passages, such as 'Well, did I ever!'--and 'Lor, Emily, dear!' ma takes up the subject, and gravely states, that shemust say she does not think Mr. Fairfax by any means a horror, butrather takes him to be a young man of very great ability; 'and I amquite sure, ' adds the worthy lady, 'he always means a great dealmore than he says. '

The door opens at this point of the disclosure, and who of allpeople alive walks into the room, but the very Mr. Fairfax, who hasbeen the subject of conversation! 'Well, it really is curious, 'cries ma, 'we were at that very moment talking about you. ' 'Youdid me great honour, ' replies Mr. Fairfax; 'may I venture to askwhat you were saying?' 'Why, if you must know, ' returns the eldestgirl, 'we were remarking what a very mysterious man you are. ' 'Ay, ay!' observes Mr. Fairfax, 'Indeed!' Now Mr. Fairfax says this ay, ay, and indeed, which are slight words enough in themselves, withso very unfathomable an air, and accompanies them with such a veryequivocal smile, that ma and the young ladies are more than everconvinced that he means an immensity, and so tell him he is a verydangerous man, and seems to be always thinking ill of somebody, which is precisely the sort of character the censorious younggentleman is most desirous to establish; wherefore he says, 'Oh, dear, no, ' in a tone, obviously intended to mean, 'You have methere, ' and which gives them to understand that they have hit theright nail on the very centre of its head. 

When the conversation ranges from the mystery overhanging thecensorious young gentleman's behaviour, to the general topics ofthe day, he sustains his character to admiration. He considers thenew tragedy well enough for a new tragedy, but Lord bless us--well, no matter; he could say a great deal on that point, but he wouldrather not, lest he should be thought ill-natured, as he knows hewould be. 'But is not Mr. So-and-so's performance truly charming?'inquires a young lady. 'Charming!' replies the censorious younggentleman. 'Oh, dear, yes, certainly; very charming--oh, verycharming indeed. ' After this, he stirs the fire, smilingcontemptuously all the while: and a modest young gentleman, whohas been a silent listener, thinks what a great thing it must be, to have such a critical judgment. Of music, pictures, books, andpoetry, the censorious young gentleman has an equally fineconception. As to men and women, he can tell all about them at aglance. 'Now let us hear your opinion of young Mrs. Barker, ' sayssome great believer in the powers of Mr. Fairfax, 'but don't be toosevere. ' 'I never am severe, ' replies the censorious younggentleman. 'Well, never mind that now. She is very lady-like, isshe not?' 'Lady-like!' repeats the censorious young gentleman (forhe always repeats when he is at a loss for anything to say). 'Didyou observe her manner? Bless my heart and soul, Mrs. Thompson, did you observe her manner?--that's all I ask. ' 'I thought I haddone so, ' rejoins the poor lady, much perplexed; 'I did not observeit very closely perhaps. ' 'Oh, not very closely, ' rejoins thecensorious young gentleman, triumphantly. 'Very good; then _I_did. Let us talk no more about her. ' The censorious younggentleman purses up his lips, and nods his head sagely, as he saysthis; and it is forthwith whispered about, that Mr. Fairfax (who, though he is a little prejudiced, must be admitted to be a veryexcellent judge) has observed something exceedingly odd in Mrs. Barker's manner. 

THE FUNNY YOUNG GENTLEMAN

As one funny young gentleman will serve as a sample of all funnyyoung Gentlemen we purpose merely to note down the conduct andbehaviour of an individual specimen of this class, whom we happenedto meet at an annual family Christmas party in the course of thisvery last Christmas that ever came. 

We were all seated round a blazing fire which crackled pleasantlyas the guests talked merrily and the urn steamed cheerily--for, being an old-fashioned party, there WAS an urn, and a teapotbesides--when there came a postman's knock at the door, so violentand sudden, that it startled the whole circle, and actually causedtwo or three very interesting and most unaffected young ladies toscream aloud and to exhibit many afflicting symptoms of terror anddistress, until they had been several times assured by theirrespective adorers, that they were in no danger. We were about toremark that it was surely beyond post-time, and must have been arunaway knock, when our host, who had hitherto been paralysed withwonder, sank into a chair in a perfect ecstasy of laughter, andoffered to lay twenty pounds that it was that droll dog Griggins. He had no sooner said this, than the majority of the company andall the children of the house burst into a roar of laughter too, asif some inimitable joke flashed upon them simultaneously, and gavevent to various exclamations of--To be sure it must be Griggins, and How like him that was, and What spirits he was always in! withmany other commendatory remarks of the like nature. 

Not having the happiness to know Griggins, we became extremelydesirous to see so pleasant a fellow, the more especially as astout gentleman with a powdered head, who was sitting with hisbreeches buckles almost touching the hob, whispered us he was a witof the first water, when the door opened, and Mr. Griggins beingannounced, presented himself, amidst another shout of laughter anda loud clapping of hands from the younger branches. This welcomehe acknowledged by sundry contortions of countenance, imitative ofthe clown in one of the new pantomimes, which were so extremelysuccessful, that one stout gentleman rolled upon an ottoman in aparoxysm of delight, protesting, with many gasps, that if somebodydidn't make that fellow Griggins leave off, he would be the deathof him, he knew. At this the company only laughed moreboisterously than before, and as we always like to accommodate ourtone and spirit if possible to the humour of any society in whichwe find ourself, we laughed with the rest, and exclaimed, 'Oh!capital, capital!' as loud as any of them. 

When he had quite exhausted all beholders, Mr. Griggins receivedthe welcomes and congratulations of the circle, and went throughthe needful introductions with much ease and many puns. Thisceremony over, he avowed his intention of sitting in somebody's lapunless the young ladies made room for him on the sofa, which beingdone, after a great deal of tittering and pleasantry, he squeezedhimself among them, and likened his condition to that of love amongthe roses. At this novel jest we all roared once more. 'Youshould consider yourself highly honoured, sir, ' said we. 'Sir, 'replied Mr. Griggins, 'you do me proud. ' Here everybody laughedagain; and the stout gentleman by the fire whispered in our earthat Griggins was making a dead set at us. 

The tea-things having been removed, we all sat down to a roundgame, and here Mr. Griggins shone forth with peculiar brilliancy, abstracting other people's fish, and looking over their hands inthe most comical manner. He made one most excellent joke insnuffing a candle, which was neither more nor less than settingfire to the hair of a pale young gentleman who sat next him, andafterwards begging his pardon with considerable humour. As theyoung gentleman could not see the joke however, possibly inconsequence of its being on the top of his own head, it did not gooff quite as well as it might have done; indeed, the younggentleman was heard to murmur some general references to'impertinence, ' and a 'rascal, ' and to state the number of hislodgings in an angry tone--a turn of the conversation which mighthave been productive of slaughterous consequences, if a young lady, betrothed to the young gentleman, had not used her immediateinfluence to bring about a reconciliation: emphatically declaringin an agitated whisper, intended for his peculiar edification butaudible to the whole table, that if he went on in that way, shenever would think of him otherwise than as a friend, though as thatshe must always regard him. At this terrible threat the younggentleman became calm, and the young lady, overcome by therevulsion of feeling, instantaneously fainted. 

Mr. Griggins's spirits were slightly depressed for a short periodby this unlooked-for result of such a harmless pleasantry, butbeing promptly elevated by the attentions of the host and severalglasses of wine, he soon recovered, and became even more vivaciousthan before, insomuch that the stout gentleman previously referredto, assured us that although he had known him since he was THAThigh (something smaller than a nutmeg-grater), he had never beheldhim in such excellent cue. 

When the round game and several games at blind man's buff whichfollowed it were all over, and we were going down to supper, theinexhaustible Mr. Griggins produced a small sprig of mistletoe fromhis waistcoat pocket, and commenced a general kissing of theassembled females, which occasioned great commotion and muchexcitement. We observed that several young gentlemen--includingthe young gentleman with the pale countenance--were greatlyscandalised at this indecorous proceeding, and talked very bigamong themselves in corners; and we observed too, that severalyoung ladies when remonstrated with by the aforesaid younggentlemen, called each other to witness how they had struggled, andprotested vehemently that it was very rude, and that they weresurprised at Mrs. Brown's allowing it, and that they couldn't bearit, and had no patience with such impertinence. But such is thegentle and forgiving nature of woman, that although we looked verynarrowly for it, we could not detect the slightest harshness in thesubsequent treatment of Mr. Griggins. Indeed, upon the whole, itstruck us that among the ladies he seemed rather more popular thanbefore!

To recount all the drollery of Mr. Griggins at supper, would fillsuch a tiny volume as this, to the very bottom of the outsidecover. How he drank out of other people's glasses, and ate ofother people's bread, how he frightened into screaming convulsionsa little boy who was sitting up to supper in a high chair, bysinking below the table and suddenly reappearing with a mask on;how the hostess was really surprised that anybody could find apleasure in tormenting children, and how the host frowned at thehostess, and felt convinced that Mr. Griggins had done it with thevery best intentions; how Mr. Griggins explained, and howeverybody's good-humour was restored but the child's;--to tellthese and a hundred other things ever so briefly, would occupy moreof our room and our readers' patience, than either they or we canconveniently spare. Therefore we change the subject, merelyobserving that we have offered no description of the funny younggentleman's personal appearance, believing that almost everysociety has a Griggins of its own, and leaving all readers tosupply the deficiency, according to the particular circumstances oftheir particular case. 

THE THEATRICAL YOUNG GENTLEMAN

All gentlemen who love the drama--and there are few gentlemen whoare not attached to the most intellectual and rational of all ouramusements--do not come within this definition. As we have no meanrelish for theatrical entertainments ourself, we aredisinterestedly anxious that this should be perfectly understood. 

The theatrical young gentleman has early and important informationon all theatrical topics. 'Well, ' says he, abruptly, when you meethim in the street, 'here's a pretty to-do. Flimkins has thrown uphis part in the melodrama at the Surrey. '--'And what's to be done?'you inquire with as much gravity as you can counterfeit. 'Ah, that's the point, ' replies the theatrical young gentleman, lookingvery serious; 'Boozle declines it; positively declines it. Fromall I am told, I should say it was decidedly in Boozle's line, andthat he would be very likely to make a great hit in it; but heobjects on the ground of Flimkins having been put up in the partfirst, and says no earthly power shall induce him to take thecharacter. It's a fine part, too--excellent business, I'm told. He has to kill six people in the course of the piece, and to fightover a bridge in red fire, which is as safe a card, you know, ascan be. Don't mention it; but I hear that the last scene, when heis first poisoned, and then stabbed, by Mrs. Flimkins as Vengedora, will be the greatest thing that has been done these many years. 'With this piece of news, and laying his finger on his lips as acaution for you not to excite the town with it, the theatricalyoung gentleman hurries away. 

The theatrical young gentleman, from often frequenting thedifferent theatrical establishments, has pet and familiar names forthem all. Thus Covent-Garden is the garden, Drury-Lane the lane, the Victoria the vic, and the Olympic the pic. Actresses, too, arealways designated by their surnames only, as Taylor, Nisbett, Faucit, Honey; that talented and lady-like girl Sheriff, thatclever little creature Horton, and so on. In the same manner heprefixes Christian names when he mentions actors, as Charley Young, Jemmy Buckstone, Fred. Yates, Paul Bedford. When he is at a lossfor a Christian name, the word 'old' applied indiscriminatelyanswers quite as well: as old Charley Matthews at Vestris's, oldHarley, and old Braham. He has a great knowledge of the privateproceedings of actresses, especially of their getting married, andcan tell you in a breath half-a-dozen who have changed their nameswithout avowing it. Whenever an alteration of this kind is made inthe playbills, he will remind you that he let you into the secretsix months ago. 

The theatrical young gentleman has a great reverence for all thatis connected with the stage department of the different theatres. He would, at any time, prefer going a street or two out of his way, to omitting to pass a stage-entrance, into which he always lookswith a curious and searching eye. If he can only identify apopular actor in the street, he is in a perfect transport ofdelight; and no sooner meets him, than he hurries back, and walks afew paces in front of him, so that he can turn round from time totime, and have a good stare at his features. He looks upon atheatrical-fund dinner as one of the most enchanting festivitiesever known; and thinks that to be a member of the Garrick Club, andsee so many actors in their plain clothes, must be one of thehighest gratifications the world can bestow. 

The theatrical young gentleman is a constant half-price visitor atone or other of the theatres, and has an infinite relish for allpieces which display the fullest resources of the establishment. He likes to place implicit reliance upon the play-bills when hegoes to see a show-piece, and works himself up to such a pitch ofenthusiasm, as not only to believe (if the bills say so) that thereare three hundred and seventy-five people on the stage at one timein the last scene, but is highly indignant with you, unless youbelieve it also. He considers that if the stage be opened from thefoot-lights to the back wall, in any new play, the piece is atriumph of dramatic writing, and applauds accordingly. He has agreat notion of trap-doors too; and thinks any character going downor coming up a trap (no matter whether he be an angel or a demon--they both do it occasionally) one of the most interesting feats inthe whole range of scenic illusion. 

Besides these acquirements, he has several veracious accounts tocommunicate of the private manners and customs of different actors, which, during the pauses of a quadrille, he usually communicates tohis partner, or imparts to his neighbour at a supper table. Thushe is advised, that Mr. Liston always had a footman in gorgeouslivery waiting at the side-scene with a brandy bottle and tumbler, to administer half a pint or so of spirit to him every time he cameoff, without which assistance he must infallibly have fainted. Heknows for a fact, that, after an arduous part, Mr. George Bennettis put between two feather beds, to absorb the perspiration; and iscredibly informed, that Mr. Baker has, for many years, submitted toa course of lukewarm toast-and-water, to qualify him to sustain hisfavourite characters. He looks upon Mr. Fitz Ball as the principaldramatic genius and poet of the day; but holds that there are greatwriters extant besides him, --in proof whereof he refers you tovarious dramas and melodramas recently produced, of which he takesin all the sixpenny and three-penny editions as fast as theyappear. 

The theatrical young gentleman is a great advocate for violence ofemotion and redundancy of action. If a father has to curse a childupon the stage, he likes to see it done in the thorough-goingstyle, with no mistake about it: to which end it is essential thatthe child should follow the father on her knees, and be knockedviolently over on her face by the old gentleman as he goes into asmall cottage, and shuts the door behind him. He likes to see ablessing invoked upon the young lady, when the old gentlemanrepents, with equal earnestness, and accompanied by the usualconventional forms, which consist of the old gentleman lookinganxiously up into the clouds, as if to see whether it rains, andthen spreading an imaginary tablecloth in the air over the younglady's head--soft music playing all the while. Upon these, andother points of a similar kind, the theatrical young gentleman is agreat critic indeed. He is likewise very acute in judging ofnatural expressions of the passions, and knows precisely the frown, wink, nod, or leer, which stands for any one of them, or the meansby which it may be converted into any other: as jealousy, with agood stamp of the right foot, becomes anger; or wildness, with thehands clasped before the throat, instead of tearing the wig, ispassionate love. If you venture to express a doubt of the accuracyof any of these portraitures, the theatrical young gentlemanassures you, with a haughty smile, that it always has been done inthat way, and he supposes they are not going to change it at thistime of day to please you; to which, of course, you meekly replythat you suppose not. 

There are innumerable disquisitions of this nature, in which thetheatrical young gentleman is very profound, especially to ladieswhom he is most in the habit of entertaining with them; but as wehave no space to recapitulate them at greater length, we must restcontent with calling the attention of the young ladies in generalto the theatrical young gentlemen of their own acquaintance. 

THE POETICAL YOUNG GENTLEMAN

Time was, and not very long ago either, when a singular epidemicraged among the young gentlemen, vast numbers of whom, under theinfluence of the malady, tore off their neckerchiefs, turned downtheir shirt collars, and exhibited themselves in the open streetswith bare throats and dejected countenances, before the eyes of anastonished public. These were poetical young gentlemen. Thecustom was gradually found to be inconvenient, as involving thenecessity of too much clean linen and too large washing bills, andthese outward symptoms have consequently passed away; but we aredisposed to think, notwithstanding, that the number of poeticalyoung gentlemen is considerably on the increase. 

We know a poetical young gentleman--a very poetical younggentleman. We do not mean to say that he is troubled with the giftof poesy in any remarkable degree, but his countenance is of aplaintive and melancholy cast, his manner is abstracted andbespeaks affliction of soul: he seldom has his hair cut, and oftentalks about being an outcast and wanting a kindred spirit; fromwhich, as well as from many general observations in which he iswont to indulge, concerning mysterious impulses, and yearnings ofthe heart, and the supremacy of intellect gilding all earthlythings with the glowing magic of immortal verse, it is clear to allhis friends that he has been stricken poetical. 

The favourite attitude of the poetical young gentleman is loungingon a sofa with his eyes fixed upon the ceiling, or sitting boltupright in a high-backed chair, staring with very round eyes at theopposite wall. When he is in one of these positions, his mother, who is a worthy, affectionate old soul, will give you a nudge tobespeak your attention without disturbing the abstracted one, andwhisper with a shake of the head, that John's imagination is atsome extraordinary work or other, you may take her word for it. Hereupon John looks more fiercely intent upon vacancy than before, and suddenly snatching a pencil from his pocket, puts down threewords, and a cross on the back of a card, sighs deeply, paces onceor twice across the room, inflicts a most unmerciful slap upon hishead, and walks moodily up to his dormitory. 

The poetical young gentleman is apt to acquire peculiar notions ofthings too, which plain ordinary people, unblessed with a poeticalobliquity of vision, would suppose to be rather distorted. Forinstance, when the sickening murder and mangling of a wretchedwoman was affording delicious food wherewithal to gorge theinsatiable curiosity of the public, our friend the poetical younggentleman was in ecstasies--not of disgust, but admiration. 'Heavens!' cried the poetical young gentleman, 'how grand; howgreat!' We ventured deferentially to inquire upon whom theseepithets were bestowed: our humble thoughts oscillating betweenthe police officer who found the criminal, and the lock-keeper whofound the head. 'Upon whom!' exclaimed the poetical younggentleman in a frenzy of poetry, 'Upon whom should they be bestowedbut upon the murderer!'--and thereupon it came out, in a finetorrent of eloquence, that the murderer was a great spirit, a boldcreature full of daring and nerve, a man of dauntless heart anddetermined courage, and withal a great casuist and able reasoner, as was fully demonstrated in his philosophical colloquies with thegreat and noble of the land. We held our peace, and meeklysignified our indisposition to controvert these opinions--firstly, because we were no match at quotation for the poetical younggentleman; and secondly, because we felt it would be of little useour entering into any disputation, if we were: being perfectlyconvinced that the respectable and immoral hero in question is notthe first and will not be the last hanged gentleman upon whom falsesympathy or diseased curiosity will be plentifully expended. 

This was a stern mystic flight of the poetical young gentleman. Inhis milder and softer moments he occasionally lays down hisneckcloth, and pens stanzas, which sometimes find their way into aLady's Magazine, or the 'Poets' Corner' of some country newspaper;or which, in default of either vent for his genius, adorn therainbow leaves of a lady's album. These are generally written uponsome such occasions as contemplating the Bank of England bymidnight, or beholding Saint Paul's in a snow-storm; and when thesegloomy objects fail to afford him inspiration, he pours forth hissoul in a touching address to a violet, or a plaintive lament thathe is no longer a child, but has gradually grown up. 

The poetical young gentleman is fond of quoting passages from hisfavourite authors, who are all of the gloomy and desponding school. He has a great deal to say too about the world, and is much givento opining, especially if he has taken anything strong to drink, that there is nothing in it worth living for. He gives you tounderstand, however, that for the sake of society, he means to bearhis part in the tiresome play, manfully resisting the gratificationof his own strong desire to make a premature exit; and consoleshimself with the reflection, that immortality has some chosen nookfor himself and the other great spirits whom earth has chafed andwearied. 

When the poetical young gentleman makes use of adjectives, they areall superlatives. Everything is of the grandest, greatest, noblest, mightiest, loftiest; or the lowest, meanest, obscurest, vilest, and most pitiful. He knows no medium: for enthusiasm isthe soul of poetry; and who so enthusiastic as a poetical younggentleman? 'Mr. Milkwash, ' says a young lady as she unlocks heralbum to receive the young gentleman's original impromptucontribution, 'how very silent you are! I think you must be inlove. ' 'Love!' cries the poetical young gentleman, starting fromhis seat by the fire and terrifying the cat who scampers off atfull speed, 'Love! that burning, consuming passion; that ardour ofthe soul, that fierce glowing of the heart. Love! The withering, blighting influence of hope misplaced and affection slighted. Lovedid you say! Ha! ha! ha!'

With this, the poetical young gentleman laughs a laugh belongingonly to poets and Mr. O. Smith of the Adelphi Theatre, and sitsdown, pen in hand, to throw off a page or two of verse in thebiting, semi-atheistical demoniac style, which, like the poeticalyoung gentleman himself, is full of sound and fury, signifyingnothing. 

THE 'THROWING-OFF' YOUNG GENTLEMAN

There is a certain kind of impostor--a bragging, vaunting, puffingyoung gentleman--against whom we are desirous to warn that fairerpart of the creation, to whom we more peculiarly devote these ourlabours. And we are particularly induced to lay especial stressupon this division of our subject, by a little dialogue we heldsome short time ago, with an esteemed young lady of ouracquaintance, touching a most gross specimen of this class of men. We had been urging all the absurdities of his conduct andconversation, and dwelling upon the impossibilities he constantlyrecounted--to which indeed we had not scrupled to prefix a certainhard little word of one syllable and three letters--when our fairfriend, unable to maintain the contest any longer, reluctantlycried, 'Well; he certainly has a habit of throwing-off, but then--'What then? Throw him off yourself, said we. And so she did, butnot at our instance, for other reasons appeared, and it might havebeen better if she had done so at first. 

The throwing-off young gentleman has so often a father possessed ofvast property in some remote district of Ireland, that we look withsome suspicion upon all young gentlemen who volunteer thisdescription of themselves. The deceased grandfather of thethrowing-off young gentleman was a man of immense possessions, anduntold wealth; the throwing-off young gentleman remembers, as wellas if it were only yesterday, the deceased baronet's library, withits long rows of scarce and valuable books in superbly embossedbindings, arranged in cases, reaching from the lofty ceiling to theoaken floor; and the fine antique chairs and tables, and the nobleold castle of Ballykillbabaloo, with its splendid prospect of hilland dale, and wood, and rich wild scenery, and the fine huntingstables and the spacious court-yards, 'and--and--everything uponthe same magnificent scale, ' says the throwing-off young gentleman, 'princely; quite princely. Ah!' And he sighs as if mourning overthe fallen fortunes of his noble house. 

The throwing-off young gentleman is a universal genius; at walking, running, rowing, swimming, and skating, he is unrivalled; at allgames of chance or skill, at hunting, shooting, fishing, riding, driving, or amateur theatricals, no one can touch him--that isCOULD not, because he gives you carefully to understand, lest thereshould be any opportunity of testing his skill, that he is quiteout of practice just now, and has been for some years. If youmention any beautiful girl of your common acquaintance in hishearing, the throwing-off young gentleman starts, smiles, and begsyou not to mind him, for it was quite involuntary: people do sayindeed that they were once engaged, but no--although she is a veryfine girl, he was so situated at that time that he couldn'tpossibly encourage the--'but it's of no use talking about it!' headds, interrupting himself. 'She has got over it now, and I firmlyhope and trust is happy. ' With this benevolent aspiration he nodshis head in a mysterious manner, and whistling the first part ofsome popular air, thinks perhaps it will be better to change thesubject. 

There is another great characteristic of the throwing-off younggentleman, which is, that he 'happens to be acquainted' with a mostextraordinary variety of people in all parts of the world. Thus inall disputed questions, when the throwing-off young gentleman hasno argument to bring forward, he invariably happens to beacquainted with some distant person, intimately connected with thesubject, whose testimony decides the point against you, to thegreat--may we say it--to the great admiration of three young ladiesout of every four, who consider the throwing-off young gentleman avery highly-connected young man, and a most charming person. 

Sometimes the throwing-off young gentleman happens to look in upona little family circle of young ladies who are quietly spending theevening together, and then indeed is he at the very height andsummit of his glory; for it is to be observed that he by no meansshines to equal advantage in the presence of men as in the societyof over-credulous young ladies, which is his proper element. It isdelightful to hear the number of pretty things the throwing-offyoung gentleman gives utterance to, during tea, and still more soto observe the ease with which, from long practice and study, hedelicately blends one compliment to a lady with two for himself. 'Did you ever see a more lovely blue than this flower, Mr. Caveton?' asks a young lady who, truth to tell, is rather smittenwith the throwing-off young gentleman. 'Never, ' he replies, bending over the object of admiration, 'never but in your eyes. ''Oh, Mr. Caveton, ' cries the young lady, blushing of course. 'Indeed I speak the truth, ' replies the throwing-off younggentleman, 'I never saw any approach to them. I used to think mycousin's blue eyes lovely, but they grow dim and colourless besideyours. ' 'Oh! a beautiful cousin, Mr. Caveton!' replies the younglady, with that perfect artlessness which is the distinguishingcharacteristic of all young ladies; 'an affair, of course. ' 'No;indeed, indeed you wrong me, ' rejoins the throwing-off younggentleman with great energy. 'I fervently hope that her attachmenttowards me may be nothing but the natural result of our closeintimacy in childhood, and that in change of scene and among newfaces she may soon overcome it. _I_ love her! Think not so meanlyof me, Miss Lowfield, I beseech, as to suppose that title, lands, riches, and beauty, can influence MY choice. The heart, the heart, Miss Lowfield. ' Here the throwing-off young gentleman sinks hisvoice to a still lower whisper; and the young lady duly proclaimsto all the other young ladies when they go up-stairs, to put theirbonnets on, that Mr. Caveton's relations are all immensely rich, and that he is hopelessly beloved by title, lands, riches, andbeauty. 

We have seen a throwing-off young gentleman who, to our certainknowledge, was innocent of a note of music, and scarcely able torecognise a tune by ear, volunteer a Spanish air upon the guitarwhen he had previously satisfied himself that there was not such aninstrument within a mile of the house. 

We have heard another throwing-off young gentleman, after strikinga note or two upon the piano, and accompanying it correctly (bydint of laborious practice) with his voice, assure a circle ofwondering listeners that so acute was his ear that he was whollyunable to sing out of tune, let him try as he would. We have livedto witness the unmasking of another throwing-off young gentleman, who went out a visiting in a military cap with a gold band andtassel, and who, after passing successfully for a captain and beinglauded to the skies for his red whiskers, his bravery, hissoldierly bearing and his pride, turned out to be the dishonest sonof an honest linen-draper in a small country town, and whom, if itwere not for this fortunate exposure, we should not yet despair ofencountering as the fortunate husband of some rich heiress. Ladies, ladies, the throwing-off young gentlemen are oftenswindlers, and always fools. So pray you avoid them. 

THE YOUNG LADIES' YOUNG GENTLEMAN

This young gentleman has several titles. Some young ladiesconsider him 'a nice young man, ' others 'a fine young man, ' others'quite a lady's man, ' others 'a handsome man, ' others 'a remarkablygood-looking young man. ' With some young ladies he is 'a perfectangel, ' and with others 'quite a love. ' He is likewise a charmingcreature, a duck, and a dear. 

The young ladies' young gentleman has usually a fresh colour andvery white teeth, which latter articles, of course, he displays onevery possible opportunity. He has brown or black hair, andwhiskers of the same, if possible; but a slight tinge of red, orthe hue which is vulgarly known as SANDY, is not considered anobjection. If his head and face be large, his nose prominent, andhis figure square, he is an uncommonly fine young man, andworshipped accordingly. Should his whiskers meet beneath his chin, so much the better, though this is not absolutely insisted on; buthe must wear an under-waistcoat, and smile constantly. 

There was a great party got up by some party-loving friends of ourslast summer, to go and dine in Epping Forest. As we hold that suchwild expeditions should never be indulged in, save by people of thesmallest means, who have no dinner at home, we should indubitablyhave excused ourself from attending, if we had not recollected thatthe projectors of the excursion were always accompanied on suchoccasions by a choice sample of the young ladies' young gentleman, whom we were very anxious to have an opportunity of meeting. Thisdetermined us, and we went. 

We were to make for Chigwell in four glass coaches, each with atrifling company of six or eight inside, and a little boy belongingto the projectors on the box--and to start from the residence ofthe projectors, Woburn-place, Russell-square, at half-past tenprecisely. We arrived at the place of rendezvous at the appointedtime, and found the glass coaches and the little boys quite ready, and divers young ladies and young gentlemen looking anxiously overthe breakfast-parlour blinds, who appeared by no means so muchgratified by our approach as we might have expected, but evidentlywished we had been somebody else. Observing that our arrival inlieu of the unknown occasioned some disappointment, we ventured toinquire who was yet to come, when we found from the hasty reply ofa dozen voices, that it was no other than the young ladies' younggentleman. 

'I cannot imagine, ' said the mamma, 'what has become of Mr. Balim--always so punctual, always so pleasant and agreeable. I am sure Ican-NOT think. ' As these last words were uttered in that measured, emphatic manner which painfully announces that the speaker has notquite made up his or her mind what to say, but is determined totalk on nevertheless, the eldest daughter took up the subject, andhoped no accident had happened to Mr. Balim, upon which there was ageneral chorus of 'Dear Mr. Balim!' and one young lady, moreadventurous than the rest, proposed that an express should bestraightway sent to dear Mr. Balim's lodgings. This, however, thepapa resolutely opposed, observing, in what a short young ladybehind us termed 'quite a bearish way, ' that if Mr. Balim didn'tchoose to come, he might stop at home. At this all the daughtersraised a murmur of 'Oh pa!' except one sprightly little girl ofeight or ten years old, who, taking advantage of a pause in thediscourse, remarked, that perhaps Mr. Balim might have been marriedthat morning--for which impertinent suggestion she was summarilyejected from the room by her eldest sister. 

We were all in a state of great mortification and uneasiness, whenone of the little boys, running into the room as airily as littleboys usually run who have an unlimited allowance of animal food inthe holidays, and keep their hands constantly forced down to thebottoms of very deep trouser-pockets when they take exercise, joyfully announced that Mr. Balim was at that moment coming up thestreet in a hackney-cab; and the intelligence was confirmed beyondall doubt a minute afterwards by the entry of Mr. Balim himself, who was received with repeated cries of 'Where have you been, younaughty creature?' whereunto the naughty creature replied, that hehad been in bed, in consequence of a late party the night before, and had only just risen. The acknowledgment awakened a variety ofagonizing fears that he had taken no breakfast; which appearingafter a slight cross-examination to be the real state of the case, breakfast for one was immediately ordered, notwithstanding Mr. Balim's repeated protestations that he couldn't think of it. Hedid think of it though, and thought better of it too, for he made aremarkably good meal when it came, and was assiduously served by aselect knot of young ladies. It was quite delightful to see how heate and drank, while one pair of fair hands poured out his coffee, and another put in the sugar, and another the milk; the rest of thecompany ever and anon casting angry glances at their watches, andthe glass coaches, --and the little boys looking on in an agony ofapprehension lest it should begin to rain before we set out; itmight have rained all day, after we were once too far to turn backagain, and welcome, for aught they cared. 

However, the cavalcade moved at length, every coachman beingaccommodated with a hamper between his legs something larger than awheelbarrow; and the company being packed as closely as theypossibly could in the carriages, 'according, ' as one married ladyobserved, 'to the immemorial custom, which was half the diversionof gipsy parties. ' Thinking it very likely it might be (we havenever been able to discover the other half), we submitted to bestowed away with a cheerful aspect, and were fortunate enough tooccupy one corner of a coach in which were one old lady, four youngladies, and the renowned Mr. Balim the young ladies' younggentleman. 

We were no sooner fairly off, than the young ladies' younggentleman hummed a fragment of an air, which induced a young ladyto inquire whether he had danced to that the night before. 'ByHeaven, then, I did, ' replied the young gentleman, 'and with alovely heiress; a superb creature, with twenty thousand pounds. ''You seem rather struck, ' observed another young lady. ''Gad shewas a sweet creature, ' returned the young gentleman, arranging hishair. 'Of course SHE was struck too?' inquired the first younglady. 'How can you ask, love?' interposed the second; 'could shefail to be?' 'Well, honestly I think she was, ' observed the younggentleman. At this point of the dialogue, the young lady who hadspoken first, and who sat on the young gentleman's right, struckhim a severe blow on the arm with a rosebud, and said he was a vainman--whereupon the young gentleman insisted on having the rosebud, and the young lady appealing for help to the other young ladies, acharming struggle ensued, terminating in the victory of the younggentleman, and the capture of the rosebud. This little skirmishover, the married lady, who was the mother of the rosebud, smiledsweetly upon the young gentleman, and accused him of being a flirt;the young gentleman pleading not guilty, a most interestingdiscussion took place upon the important point whether the younggentleman was a flirt or not, which being an agreeable conversationof a light kind, lasted a considerable time. At length, a shortsilence occurring, the young ladies on either side of the younggentleman fell suddenly fast asleep; and the young gentleman, winking upon us to preserve silence, won a pair of gloves fromeach, thereby causing them to wake with equal suddenness and toscream very loud. The lively conversation to which this pleasantrygave rise, lasted for the remainder of the ride, and would haveeked out a much longer one. 

We dined rather more comfortably than people usually do under suchcircumstances, nothing having been left behind but the cork-screwand the bread. The married gentlemen were unusually thirsty, whichthey attributed to the heat of the weather; the little boys ate toinconvenience; mammas were very jovial, and their daughters veryfascinating; and the attendants being well-behaved men, gotexceedingly drunk at a respectful distance. 

We had our eye on Mr. Balim at dinner-time, and perceived that heflourished wonderfully, being still surrounded by a little group ofyoung ladies, who listened to him as an oracle, while he ate fromtheir plates and drank from their glasses in a manner trulycaptivating from its excessive playfulness. His conversation, too, was exceedingly brilliant. In fact, one elderly lady assured us, that in the course of a little lively badinage on the subject ofladies' dresses, he had evinced as much knowledge as if he had beenborn and bred a milliner. 

As such of the fat people who did not happen to fall asleep afterdinner entered upon a most vigorous game at ball, we slipped awayalone into a thicker part of the wood, hoping to fall in with Mr. Balim, the greater part of the young people having dropped off intwos and threes and the young ladies' young gentleman among them. Nor were we disappointed, for we had not walked far, when, peepingthrough the trees, we discovered him before us, and truly it was apleasant thing to contemplate his greatness. 

The young ladies' young gentleman was seated upon the ground, atthe feet of a few young ladies who were reclining on a bank; he wasso profusely decked with scarfs, ribands, flowers, and other prettyspoils, that he looked like a lamb--or perhaps a calf would be abetter simile--adorned for the sacrifice. One young lady supporteda parasol over his interesting head, another held his hat, and athird his neck-cloth, which in romantic fashion he had thrown off;the young gentleman himself, with his hand upon his breast, and hisface moulded into an expression of the most honeyed sweetness, waswarbling forth some choice specimens of vocal music in praise offemale loveliness, in a style so exquisitely perfect, that we burstinto an involuntary shout of laughter, and made a hasty retreat. 

What charming fellows these young ladies' young gentlemen are!Ducks, dears, loves, angels, are all terms inadequate to expresstheir merit. They are such amazingly, uncommonly, wonderfully, nice men. 

CONCLUSION

As we have placed before the young ladies so many specimens ofyoung gentlemen, and have also in the dedication of this volumegiven them to understand how much we reverence and admire theirnumerous virtues and perfections; as we have given them such strongreasons to treat us with confidence, and to banish, in our case, all that reserve and distrust of the male sex which, as a point ofgeneral behaviour, they cannot do better than preserve andmaintain--we say, as we have done all this, we feel that now, whenwe have arrived at the close of our task, they may naturally pressupon us the inquiry, what particular description of young gentlemenwe can conscientiously recommend. 

Here we are at a loss. We look over our list, and can neitherrecommend the bashful young gentleman, nor the out-and-out younggentleman, nor the very friendly young gentleman, nor the militaryyoung gentleman, nor the political young gentleman, nor thedomestic young gentleman, nor the censorious young gentleman, northe funny young gentleman, nor the theatrical young gentleman, northe poetical young gentleman, nor the throwing-off young gentleman, nor the young ladies' young gentleman. 

As there are some good points about many of them, which still arenot sufficiently numerous to render any one among them eligible, asa whole, our respectful advice to the young ladies is, to seek fora young gentleman who unites in himself the best qualities of all, and the worst weaknesses of none, and to lead him forthwith to thehymeneal altar, whether he will or no. And to the young lady whosecures him, we beg to tender one short fragment of matrimonialadvice, selected from many sound passages of a similar tendency, tobe found in a letter written by Dean Swift to a young lady on hermarriage. 

'The grand affair of your life will be, to gain and preserve theesteem of your husband. Neither good-nature nor virtue will sufferhim to ESTEEM you against his judgment; and although he is notcapable of using you ill, yet you will in time grow a thingindifferent and perhaps contemptible; unless you can supply theloss of youth and beauty with more durable qualities. You have buta very few years to be young and handsome in the eyes of the world;and as few months to be so in the eyes of a husband who is not afool; for I hope you do not still dream of charms and raptures, which marriage ever did, and ever will, put a sudden end to. '

From the anxiety we express for the proper behaviour of thefortunate lady after marriage, it may possibly be inferred that theyoung gentleman to whom we have so delicately alluded, is no otherthan ourself. Without in any way committing ourself upon thispoint, we have merely to observe, that we are ready to receivesealed offers containing a full specification of age, temper, appearance, and condition; but we beg it to be distinctlyunderstood that we do not pledge ourself to accept the highestbidder. 

These offers may be forwarded to the Publishers, Messrs. Chapmanand Hall, London; to whom all pieces of plate and othertestimonials of approbation from the young ladies generally, arerespectfully requested to be addressed. 

SKETCHES OF YOUNG COUPLES

AN URGENT REMONSTRANCE, &c

TO THE GENTLEMEN OF ENGLAND, (BEING BACHELORS OR WIDOWERS, )

THE REMONSTRANCE OF THEIR FAITHFUL FELLOW-SUBJECT, SHEWETH, -

THAT Her Most Gracious Majesty, Victoria, by the Grace of God ofthe United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland Queen, Defender ofthe Faith, did, on the 23rd day of November last past, declare andpronounce to Her Most Honourable Privy Council, Her Majesty's MostGracious intention of entering into the bonds of wedlock. 

THAT Her Most Gracious Majesty, in so making known Her MostGracious intention to Her Most Honourable Privy Council asaforesaid, did use and employ the words--'It is my intention toally myself in marriage with Prince Albert of Saxe Coburg andGotha. '

THAT the present is Bissextile, or Leap Year, in which it is heldand considered lawful for any lady to offer and submit proposals ofmarriage to any gentleman, and to enforce and insist uponacceptance of the same, under pain of a certain fine or penalty; towit, one silk or satin dress of the first quality, to be chosen bythe lady and paid (or owed) for, by the gentleman. 

THAT these and other the horrors and dangers with which the saidBissextile, or Leap Year, threatens the gentlemen of England onevery occasion of its periodical return, have been greatlyaggravated and augmented by the terms of Her Majesty's said MostGracious communication, which have filled the heads of divers youngladies in this Realm with certain new ideas destructive to thepeace of mankind, that never entered their imagination before. 

THAT a case has occurred in Camberwell, in which a young ladyinformed her Papa that 'she intended to ally herself in marriage'with Mr. Smith of Stepney; and that another, and a very distressingcase, has occurred at Tottenham, in which a young lady not onlystated her intention of allying herself in marriage with her cousinJohn, but, taking violent possession of her said cousin, actuallymarried him. 

THAT similar outrages are of constant occurrence, not only in thecapital and its neighbourhood, but throughout the kingdom, and thatunless the excited female populace be speedily checked andrestrained in their lawless proceedings, most deplorable resultsmust ensue therefrom; among which may be anticipated a mostalarming increase in the population of the country, with which noefforts of the agricultural or manufacturing interest can possiblykeep pace. 

THAT there is strong reason to suspect the existence of a mostextensive plot, conspiracy, or design, secretly contrived by vastnumbers of single ladies in the United Kingdom of Great Britain andIreland, and now extending its ramifications in every quarter ofthe land; the object and intent of which plainly appears to be theholding and solemnising of an enormous and unprecedented number ofmarriages, on the day on which the nuptials of Her said MostGracious Majesty are performed. 

THAT such plot, conspiracy, or design, strongly savours of Popery, as tending to the discomfiture of the Clergy of the EstablishedChurch, by entailing upon them great mental and physicalexhaustion; and that such Popish plots are fomented and encouragedby Her Majesty's Ministers, which clearly appears--not only fromHer Majesty's principal Secretary of State for Foreign Affairstraitorously getting married while holding office under the Crown;but from Mr. O'Connell having been heard to declare and avow that, if he had a daughter to marry, she should be married on the sameday as Her said Most Gracious Majesty. 

THAT such arch plots, conspiracies, and designs, besides beingfraught with danger to the Established Church, and (consequently)to the State, cannot fail to bring ruin and bankruptcy upon a largeclass of Her Majesty's subjects; as a great and sudden increase inthe number of married men occasioning the comparative desertion(for a time) of Taverns, Hotels, Billiard-rooms, and Gaming-Houses, will deprive the Proprietors of their accustomed profits andreturns. And in further proof of the depth and baseness of suchdesigns, it may be here observed, that all proprietors of Taverns, Hotels, Billiard-rooms, and Gaming-Houses, are (especially thelast) solemnly devoted to the Protestant religion. 

FOR all these reasons, and many others of no less gravity andimport, an urgent appeal is made to the gentlemen of England (beingbachelors or widowers) to take immediate steps for convening aPublic meeting; To consider of the best and surest means ofaverting the dangers with which they are threatened by therecurrence of Bissextile, or Leap Year, and the additionalsensation created among single ladies by the terms of Her Majesty'sMost Gracious Declaration; To take measures, without delay, forresisting the said single Ladies, and counteracting their evildesigns; And to pray Her Majesty to dismiss her present Ministers, and to summon to her Councils those distinguished Gentlemen invarious Honourable Professions who, by insulting on all occasionsthe only Lady in England who can be insulted with safety, havegiven a sufficient guarantee to Her Majesty's Loving Subjects thatthey, at least, are qualified to make war with women, and arealready expert in the use of those weapons which are common to thelowest and most abandoned of the sex. 

THE YOUNG COUPLE

There is to be a wedding this morning at the corner house in theterrace. The pastry-cook's people have been there half-a-dozentimes already; all day yesterday there was a great stir and bustle, and they were up this morning as soon as it was light. Miss EmmaFielding is going to be married to young Mr. Harvey. 

Heaven alone can tell in what bright colours this marriage ispainted upon the mind of the little housemaid at number six, whohas hardly slept a wink all night with thinking of it, and nowstands on the unswept door-steps leaning upon her broom, andlooking wistfully towards the enchanted house. Nothing short ofomniscience can divine what visions of the baker, or the green-grocer, or the smart and most insinuating butterman, are flittingacross her mind--what thoughts of how she would dress on such anoccasion, if she were a lady--of how she would dress, if she wereonly a bride--of how cook would dress, being bridesmaid, conjointlywith her sister 'in place' at Fulham, and how the clergyman, deeming them so many ladies, would be quite humbled and respectful. What day-dreams of hope and happiness--of life being one perpetualholiday, with no master and no mistress to grant or withhold it--ofevery Sunday being a Sunday out--of pure freedom as to curls andringlets, and no obligation to hide fine heads of hair in caps--what pictures of happiness, vast and immense to her, but utterlyridiculous to us, bewilder the brain of the little housemaid atnumber six, all called into existence by the wedding at the corner!

We smile at such things, and so we should, though perhaps for abetter reason than commonly presents itself. It should be pleasantto us to know that there are notions of happiness so moderate andlimited, since upon those who entertain them, happiness andlightness of heart are very easily bestowed. 

But the little housemaid is awakened from her reverie, for forthfrom the door of the magical corner house there runs towards her, all fluttering in smart new dress and streaming ribands, her friendJane Adams, who comes all out of breath to redeem a solemn promiseof taking her in, under cover of the confusion, to see thebreakfast table spread forth in state, and--sight of sights!--heryoung mistress ready dressed for church. 

And there, in good truth, when they have stolen up-stairs on tip-toe and edged themselves in at the chamber-door--there is Miss Emma'looking like the sweetest picter, ' in a white chip bonnet andorange flowers, and all other elegancies becoming a bride, (withthe make, shape, and quality of every article of which the girl isperfectly familiar in one moment, and never forgets to her dyingday)--and there is Miss Emma's mamma in tears, and Miss Emma's papacomforting her, and saying how that of course she has been longlooking forward to this, and how happy she ought to be--and theretoo is Miss Emma's sister with her arms round her neck, and theother bridesmaid all smiles and tears, quieting the children, whowould cry more but that they are so finely dressed, and yet sob forfear sister Emma should be taken away--and it is all so affecting, that the two servant-girls cry more than anybody; and Jane Adams, sitting down upon the stairs, when they have crept away, declaresthat her legs tremble so that she don't know what to do, and thatshe will say for Miss Emma, that she never had a hasty word fromher, and that she does hope and pray she may be happy. 

But Jane soon comes round again, and then surely there never wasanything like the breakfast table, glittering with plate and china, and set out with flowers and sweets, and long-necked bottles, inthe most sumptuous and dazzling manner. In the centre, too, is themighty charm, the cake, glistening with frosted sugar, andgarnished beautifully. They agree that there ought to be a littleCupid under one of the barley-sugar temples, or at least two heartsand an arrow; but, with this exception, there is nothing to wishfor, and a table could not be handsomer. As they arrive at thisconclusion, who should come in but Mr. John! to whom Jane says thatits only Anne from number six; and John says HE knows, for he'soften winked his eye down the area, which causes Anne to blush andlook confused. She is going away, indeed; when Mr. John will haveit that she must drink a glass of wine, and he says never mind it'sbeing early in the morning, it won't hurt her: so they shut thedoor and pour out the wine; and Anne drinking lane's health, andadding, 'and here's wishing you yours, Mr. John, ' drinks it in agreat many sips, --Mr. John all the time making jokes appropriate tothe occasion. At last Mr. John, who has waxed bolder by degrees, pleads the usage at weddings, and claims the privilege of a kiss, which he obtains after a great scuffle; and footsteps being nowheard on the stairs, they disperse suddenly. 

By this time a carriage has driven up to convey the bride tochurch, and Anne of number six prolonging the process of 'cleaningher door, ' has the satisfaction of beholding the bride andbridesmaids, and the papa and mamma, hurry into the same and driverapidly off. Nor is this all, for soon other carriages begin toarrive with a posse of company all beautifully dressed, at whom shecould stand and gaze for ever; but having something else to do, iscompelled to take one last long look and shut the street-door. 

And now the company have gone down to breakfast, and tears havegiven place to smiles, for all the corks are out of the long-neckedbottles, and their contents are disappearing rapidly. Miss Emma'spapa is at the top of the table; Miss Emma's mamma at the bottom;and beside the latter are Miss Emma herself and her husband, --admitted on all hands to be the handsomest and most interestingyoung couple ever known. All down both sides of the table, too, are various young ladies, beautiful to see, and various younggentlemen who seem to think so; and there, in a post of honour, isan unmarried aunt of Miss Emma's, reported to possess unheard-ofriches, and to have expressed vast testamentary intentionsrespecting her favourite niece and new nephew. This lady has beenvery liberal and generous already, as the jewels worn by the brideabundantly testify, but that is nothing to what she means to do, oreven to what she has done, for she put herself in closecommunication with the dressmaker three months ago, and prepared awardrobe (with some articles worked by her own hands) fit for aPrincess. People may call her an old maid, and so she may be, butshe is neither cross nor ugly for all that; on the contrary, she isvery cheerful and pleasant-looking, and very kind and tender-hearted: which is no matter of surprise except to those who yieldto popular prejudices without thinking why, and will never growwiser and never know better. 

Of all the company though, none are more pleasant to behold orbetter pleased with themselves than two young children, who, inhonour of the day, have seats among the guests. Of these, one is alittle fellow of six or eight years old, brother to the bride, --andthe other a girl of the same age, or something younger, whom hecalls 'his wife. ' The real bride and bridegroom are not moredevoted than they: he all love and attention, and she all blushesand fondness, toying with a little bouquet which he gave her thismorning, and placing the scattered rose-leaves in her bosom withnature's own coquettishness. They have dreamt of each other intheir quiet dreams, these children, and their little hearts havebeen nearly broken when the absent one has been dispraised in jest. When will there come in after-life a passion so earnest, generous, and true as theirs; what, even in its gentlest realities, can havethe grace and charm that hover round such fairy lovers!

By this time the merriment and happiness of the feast have gainedtheir height; certain ominous looks begin to be exchanged betweenthe bridesmaids, and somehow it gets whispered about that thecarriage which is to take the young couple into the country hasarrived. Such members of the party as are most disposed to prolongits enjoyments, affect to consider this a false alarm, but it turnsout too true, being speedily confirmed, first by the retirement ofthe bride and a select file of intimates who are to prepare her forthe journey, and secondly by the withdrawal of the ladiesgenerally. To this there ensues a particularly awkward pause, inwhich everybody essays to be facetious, and nobody succeeds; atlength the bridegroom makes a mysterious disappearance in obedienceto some equally mysterious signal; and the table is deserted. 

Now, for at least six weeks last past it has been solemnly devisedand settled that the young couple should go away in secret; butthey no sooner appear without the door than the drawing-roomwindows are blocked up with ladies waving their handkerchiefs andkissing their hands, and the dining-room panes with gentlemen'sfaces beaming farewell in every queer variety of its expression. The hall and steps are crowded with servants in white favours, mixed up with particular friends and relations who have darted outto say good-bye; and foremost in the group are the tiny lovers armin arm, thinking, with fluttering hearts, what happiness it wouldbe to dash away together in that gallant coach, and never partagain. 

The bride has barely time for one hurried glance at her old home, when the steps rattle, the door slams, the horses clatter on thepavement, and they have left it far away. 

A knot of women servants still remain clustered in the hall, whispering among themselves, and there of course is Anne fromnumber six, who has made another escape on some plea or other, andbeen an admiring witness of the departure. There are two points onwhich Anne expatiates over and over again, without the smallestappearance of fatigue or intending to leave off; one is, that she'never see in all her life such a--oh such a angel of a gentlemanas Mr. Harvey'--and the other, that she 'can't tell how it is, butit don't seem a bit like a work-a-day, or a Sunday neither--it'sall so unsettled and unregular. '

THE FORMAL COUPLE

The formal couple are the most prim, cold, immovable, andunsatisfactory people on the face of the earth. Their faces, voices, dress, house, furniture, walk, and manner, are all theessence of formality, unrelieved by one redeeming touch offrankness, heartiness, or nature. 

Everything with the formal couple resolves itself into a matter ofform. They don't call upon you on your account, but their own; notto see how you are, but to show how they are: it is not a ceremonyto do honour to you, but to themselves, --not due to your position, but to theirs. If one of a friend's children die, the formalcouple are as sure and punctual in sending to the house as theundertaker; if a friend's family be increased, the monthly nurse isnot more attentive than they. The formal couple, in fact, joyfullyseize all occasions of testifying their good-breeding and preciseobservance of the little usages of society; and for you, who arethe means to this end, they care as much as a man does for thetailor who has enabled him to cut a figure, or a woman for themilliner who has assisted her to a conquest. 

Having an extensive connexion among that kind of people who makeacquaintances and eschew friends, the formal gentleman attends fromtime to time a great many funerals, to which he is formallyinvited, and to which he formally goes, as returning a call for thelast time. Here his deportment is of the most faultlessdescription; he knows the exact pitch of voice it is proper toassume, the sombre look he ought to wear, the melancholy treadwhich should be his gait for the day. He is perfectly acquaintedwith all the dreary courtesies to be observed in a mourning-coach;knows when to sigh, and when to hide his nose in the whitehandkerchief; and looks into the grave and shakes his head when theceremony is concluded, with the sad formality of a mute. 

'What kind of funeral was it?' says the formal lady, when hereturns home. 'Oh!' replies the formal gentleman, 'there never wassuch a gross and disgusting impropriety; there were no feathers. ''No feathers!' cries the lady, as if on wings of black feathersdead people fly to Heaven, and, lacking them, they must ofnecessity go elsewhere. Her husband shakes his head; and furtheradds, that they had seed-cake instead of plum-cake, and that it wasall white wine. 'All white wine!' exclaims his wife. 'Nothing butsherry and madeira, ' says the husband. 'What! no port?' 'Not adrop. ' No port, no plums, and no feathers! 'You will recollect, my dear, ' says the formal lady, in a voice of stately reproof, 'that when we first met this poor man who is now dead and gone, andhe took that very strange course of addressing me at dinner withoutbeing previously introduced, I ventured to express my opinion thatthe family were quite ignorant of etiquette, and very imperfectlyacquainted with the decencies of life. You have now had a goodopportunity of judging for yourself, and all I have to say is, thatI trust you will never go to a funeral THERE again. ' 'My dear, 'replies the formal gentleman, 'I never will. ' So the informaldeceased is cut in his grave; and the formal couple, when they tellthe story of the funeral, shake their heads, and wonder what somepeople's feelings ARE made of, and what their notions of proprietyCAN be!

If the formal couple have a family (which they sometimes have), they are not children, but little, pale, sour, sharp-nosed men andwomen; and so exquisitely brought up, that they might be very olddwarfs for anything that appeareth to the contrary. Indeed, theyare so acquainted with forms and conventionalities, and conductthemselves with such strict decorum, that to see the little girlbreak a looking-glass in some wild outbreak, or the little boy kickhis parents, would be to any visitor an unspeakable relief andconsolation. 

The formal couple are always sticklers for what is rigidly proper, and have a great readiness in detecting hidden impropriety ofspeech or thought, which by less scrupulous people would be whollyunsuspected. Thus, if they pay a visit to the theatre, they sitall night in a perfect agony lest anything improper or immoralshould proceed from the stage; and if anything should happen to besaid which admits of a double construction, they never fail to takeit up directly, and to express by their looks the great outragewhich their feelings have sustained. Perhaps this is their chiefreason for absenting themselves almost entirely from places ofpublic amusement. They go sometimes to the Exhibition of the RoyalAcademy;--but that is often more shocking than the stage itself, and the formal lady thinks that it really is high time Mr. Etty wasprosecuted and made a public example of. 

We made one at a christening party not long since, where there wereamongst the guests a formal couple, who suffered the acutesttorture from certain jokes, incidental to such an occasion, cut--and very likely dried also--by one of the godfathers; a red-facedelderly gentleman, who, being highly popular with the rest of thecompany, had it all his own way, and was in great spirits. It wasat supper-time that this gentleman came out in full force. We--being of a grave and quiet demeanour--had been chosen to escort theformal lady down-stairs, and, sitting beside her, had a favourableopportunity of observing her emotions. 

We have a shrewd suspicion that, in the very beginning, and in thefirst blush--literally the first blush--of the matter, the formallady had not felt quite certain whether the being present at such aceremony, and encouraging, as it were, the public exhibition of ababy, was not an act involving some degree of indelicacy andimpropriety; but certain we are that when that baby's health wasdrunk, and allusions were made, by a grey-headed gentlemanproposing it, to the time when he had dandled in his arms the youngChristian's mother, --certain we are that then the formal lady tookthe alarm, and recoiled from the old gentleman as from a hoaryprofligate. Still she bore it; she fanned herself with anindignant air, but still she bore it. A comic song was sung, involving a confession from some imaginary gentleman that he hadkissed a female, and yet the formal lady bore it. But when atlast, the health of the godfather before-mentioned being drunk, thegodfather rose to return thanks, and in the course of hisobservations darkly hinted at babies yet unborn, and evencontemplated the possibility of the subject of that festival havingbrothers and sisters, the formal lady could endure no more, but, bowing slightly round, and sweeping haughtily past the offender, left the room in tears, under the protection of the formalgentleman. 

THE LOVING COUPLE

There cannot be a better practical illustration of the wise saw andancient instance, that there may be too much of a good thing, thanis presented by a loving couple. Undoubtedly it is meet and properthat two persons joined together in holy matrimony should beloving, and unquestionably it is pleasant to know and see that theyare so; but there is a time for all things, and the couple whohappen to be always in a loving state before company, are well-nighintolerable. 

And in taking up this position we would have it distinctlyunderstood that we do not seek alone the sympathy of bachelors, inwhose objection to loving couples we recognise interested motivesand personal considerations. We grant that to that unfortunateclass of society there may be something very irritating, tantalising, and provoking, in being compelled to witness thosegentle endearments and chaste interchanges which to loving couplesare quite the ordinary business of life. But while we recognisethe natural character of the prejudice to which these unhappy menare subject, we can neither receive their biassed evidence, noraddress ourself to their inflamed and angered minds. Dispassionateexperience is our only guide; and in these moral essays we seek noless to reform hymeneal offenders than to hold out a timely warningto all rising couples, and even to those who have not yet set forthupon their pilgrimage towards the matrimonial market. 

Let all couples, present or to come, therefore profit by theexample of Mr. And Mrs. Leaver, themselves a loving couple in thefirst degree. 

Mr. And Mrs. Leaver are pronounced by Mrs. Starling, a widow ladywho lost her husband when she was young, and lost herself about thesame-time--for by her own count she has never since grown fiveyears older--to be a perfect model of wedded felicity. 'You wouldsuppose, ' says the romantic lady, 'that they were lovers only justnow engaged. Never was such happiness! They are so tender, soaffectionate, so attached to each other, so enamoured, thatpositively nothing can be more charming!'

'Augusta, my soul, ' says Mr. Leaver. 'Augustus, my life, ' repliesMrs. Leaver. 'Sing some little ballad, darling, ' quoth Mr. Leaver. 'I couldn't, indeed, dearest, ' returns Mrs. Leaver. 'Do, my dove, 'says Mr. Leaver. 'I couldn't possibly, my love, ' replies Mrs. Leaver; 'and it's very naughty of you to ask me. ' 'Naughty, darling!' cries Mr. Leaver. 'Yes, very naughty, and very cruel, 'returns Mrs. Leaver, 'for you know I have a sore throat, and thatto sing would give me great pain. You're a monster, and I hateyou. Go away!' Mrs. Leaver has said 'go away, ' because Mr. Leaverhas tapped her under the chin: Mr. Leaver not doing as he is bid, but on the contrary, sitting down beside her, Mrs. Leaver slaps Mr. Leaver; and Mr. Leaver in return slaps Mrs. Leaver, and it beingnow time for all persons present to look the other way, they lookthe other way, and hear a still small sound as of kissing, at whichMrs. Starling is thoroughly enraptured, and whispers her neighbourthat if all married couples were like that, what a heaven thisearth would be!

The loving couple are at home when this occurs, and maybe onlythree or four friends are present, but, unaccustomed to reserveupon this interesting point, they are pretty much the same abroad. Indeed upon some occasions, such as a pic-nic or a water-party, their lovingness is even more developed, as we had an opportunitylast summer of observing in person. 

There was a great water-party made up to go to Twickenham and dine, and afterwards dance in an empty villa by the river-side, hiredexpressly for the purpose. Mr. And Mrs. Leaver were of thecompany; and it was our fortune to have a seat in the same boat, which was an eight-oared galley, manned by amateurs, with a bluestriped awning of the same pattern as their Guernsey shirts, and adingy red flag of the same shade as the whiskers of the stroke oar. A coxswain being appointed, and all other matters adjusted, theeight gentlemen threw themselves into strong paroxysms, and pulledup with the tide, stimulated by the compassionate remarks of theladies, who one and all exclaimed, that it seemed an immenseexertion--as indeed it did. At first we raced the other boat, which came alongside in gallant style; but this being found anunpleasant amusement, as giving rise to a great quantity ofsplashing, and rendering the cold pies and other viands very moist, it was unanimously voted down, and we were suffered to shoot a-head, while the second boat followed ingloriously in our wake. 

It was at this time that we first recognised Mr. Leaver. Therewere two firemen-watermen in the boat, lying by until somebody wasexhausted; and one of them, who had taken upon himself thedirection of affairs, was heard to cry in a gruff voice, 'Pullaway, number two--give it her, number two--take a longer reach, number two--now, number two, sir, think you're winning a boat. 'The greater part of the company had no doubt begun to wonder whichof the striped Guernseys it might be that stood in need of suchencouragement, when a stifled shriek from Mrs. Leaver confirmed thedoubtful and informed the ignorant; and Mr. Leaver, still furtherdisguised in a straw hat and no neckcloth, was observed to be in afearful perspiration, and failing visibly. Nor was the generalconsternation diminished at this instant by the same gentleman (inthe performance of an accidental aquatic feat, termed 'catching acrab') plunging suddenly backward, and displaying nothing ofhimself to the company, but two violently struggling legs. Mrs. Leaver shrieked again several times, and cried piteously--'Is hedead? Tell me the worst. Is he dead?'

Now, a moment's reflection might have convinced the loving wife, that unless her husband were endowed with some most surprisingpowers of muscular action, he never could be dead while he kickedso hard; but still Mrs. Leaver cried, 'Is he dead? is he dead?' andstill everybody else cried--'No, no, no, ' until such time as Mr. Leaver was replaced in a sitting posture, and his oar (which hadbeen going through all kinds of wrong-headed performances on itsown account) was once more put in his hand, by the exertions of thetwo firemen-watermen. Mr. Leaver then exclaimed, 'Augustus, mychild, come to me;' and Mr. Leaver said, 'Augusta, my love, composeyourself, I am not injured. ' But Mrs. Leaver cried again morepiteously than before, 'Augustus, my child, come to me;' and nowthe company generally, who seemed to be apprehensive that if Mr. Leaver remained where he was, he might contribute more than hisproper share towards the drowning of the party, disinterestedlytook part with Mrs. Leaver, and said he really ought to go, andthat he was not strong enough for such violent exercise, and oughtnever to have undertaken it. Reluctantly, Mr. Leaver went, andlaid himself down at Mrs. Leaver's feet, and Mrs. Leaver stoopingover him, said, 'Oh Augustus, how could you terrify me so?' and Mr. Leaver said, 'Augusta, my sweet, I never meant to terrify you;' andMrs. Leaver said, 'You are faint, my dear;' and Mr. Leaver said, 'Iam rather so, my love;' and they were very loving indeed under Mrs. Leaver's veil, until at length Mr. Leaver came forth again, andpleasantly asked if he had not heard something said about bottledstout and sandwiches. 

Mrs. Starling, who was one of the party, was perfectly delightedwith this scene, and frequently murmured half-aside, 'What a lovingcouple you are!' or 'How delightful it is to see man and wife sohappy together!' To us she was quite poetical, (for we are a kindof cousins, ) observing that hearts beating in unison like that madelife a paradise of sweets; and that when kindred creatures weredrawn together by sympathies so fine and delicate, what more thanmortal happiness did not our souls partake! To all this weanswered 'Certainly, ' or 'Very true, ' or merely sighed, as the casemight be. At every new act of the loving couple, the widow'sadmiration broke out afresh; and when Mrs. Leaver would not permitMr. Leaver to keep his hat off, lest the sun should strike to hishead, and give him a brain fever, Mrs. Starling actually shedtears, and said it reminded her of Adam and Eve. 

The loving couple were thus loving all the way to Twickenham, butwhen we arrived there (by which time the amateur crew looked verythirsty and vicious) they were more playful than ever, for Mrs. Leaver threw stones at Mr. Leaver, and Mr. Leaver ran after Mrs. Leaver on the grass, in a most innocent and enchanting manner. Atdinner, too, Mr. Leaver WOULD steal Mrs. Leaver's tongue, and Mrs. Leaver WOULD retaliate upon Mr. Leaver's fowl; and when Mrs. Leaverwas going to take some lobster salad, Mr. Leaver wouldn't let herhave any, saying that it made her ill, and she was always sorry forit afterwards, which afforded Mrs. Leaver an opportunity ofpretending to be cross, and showing many other prettinesses. Butthis was merely the smiling surface of their loves, not the mightydepths of the stream, down to which the company, to say the truth, dived rather unexpectedly, from the following accident. It chancedthat Mr. Leaver took upon himself to propose the bachelors who hadfirst originated the notion of that entertainment, in doing which, he affected to regret that he was no longer of their body himself, and pretended grievously to lament his fallen state. This Mrs. Leaver's feelings could not brook, even in jest, and consequently, exclaiming aloud, 'He loves me not, he loves me not!' she fell in avery pitiable state into the arms of Mrs. Starling, and, directlybecoming insensible, was conveyed by that lady and her husband intoanother room. Presently Mr. Leaver came running back to know ifthere was a medical gentleman in company, and as there was, (inwhat company is there not?) both Mr. Leaver and the medicalgentleman hurried away together. 

The medical gentleman was the first who returned, and among hisintimate friends he was observed to laugh and wink, and look asunmedical as might be; but when Mr. Leaver came back he was verysolemn, and in answer to all inquiries, shook his head, andremarked that Augusta was far too sensitive to be trifled with--anopinion which the widow subsequently confirmed. Finding that shewas in no imminent peril, however, the rest of the party betookthemselves to dancing on the green, and very merry and happy theywere, and a vast quantity of flirtation there was; the lastcircumstance being no doubt attributable, partly to the fineness ofthe weather, and partly to the locality, which is well known to befavourable to all harmless recreations. 

In the bustle of the scene, Mr. And Mrs. Leaver stole down to theboat, and disposed themselves under the awning, Mrs. Leaverreclining her head upon Mr. Leaver's shoulder, and Mr. Leavergrasping her hand with great fervour, and looking in her face fromtime to time with a melancholy and sympathetic aspect. The widowsat apart, feigning to be occupied with a book, but stealthilyobserving them from behind her fan; and the two firemen-watermen, smoking their pipes on the bank hard by, nudged each other, andgrinned in enjoyment of the joke. Very few of the party missed theloving couple; and the few who did, heartily congratulated eachother on their disappearance. 

THE CONTRADICTORY COUPLE

One would suppose that two people who are to pass their whole livestogether, and must necessarily be very often alone with each other, could find little pleasure in mutual contradiction; and yet what ismore common than a contradictory couple?

The contradictory couple agree in nothing but contradiction. Theyreturn home from Mrs. Bluebottle's dinner-party, each in anopposite corner of the coach, and do not exchange a syllable untilthey have been seated for at least twenty minutes by the firesideat home, when the gentleman, raising his eyes from the stove, allat once breaks silence:

'What a very extraordinary thing it is, ' says he, 'that you WILLcontradict, Charlotte!' '_I_ contradict!' cries the lady, 'butthat's just like you. ' 'What's like me?' says the gentlemansharply. 'Saying that I contradict you, ' replies the lady. 'Doyou mean to say that you do NOT contradict me?' retorts thegentleman; 'do you mean to say that you have not been contradictingme the whole of this day?' 'Do you mean to tell me now, that youhave not? I mean to tell you nothing of the kind, ' replies thelady quietly; 'when you are wrong, of course I shall contradictyou. '

During this dialogue the gentleman has been taking his brandy-and-water on one side of the fire, and the lady, with her dressing-caseon the table, has been curling her hair on the other. She now letsdown her back hair, and proceeds to brush it; preserving at thesame time an air of conscious rectitude and suffering virtue, whichis intended to exasperate the gentleman--and does so. 

'I do believe, ' he says, taking the spoon out of his glass, andtossing it on the table, 'that of all the obstinate, positive, wrong-headed creatures that were ever born, you are the most so, Charlotte. ' 'Certainly, certainly, have it your own way, pray. You see how much _I_ contradict you, ' rejoins the lady. 'Ofcourse, you didn't contradict me at dinner-time--oh no, not you!'says the gentleman. 'Yes, I did, ' says the lady. 'Oh, you did, 'cries the gentleman 'you admit that?' 'If you call thatcontradiction, I do, ' the lady answers; 'and I say again, Edward, that when I know you are wrong, I will contradict you. I am notyour slave. ' 'Not my slave!' repeats the gentleman bitterly; 'andyou still mean to say that in the Blackburns' new house there arenot more than fourteen doors, including the door of the wine-cellar!' 'I mean to say, ' retorts the lady, beating time with herhair-brush on the palm of her hand, 'that in that house there arefourteen doors and no more. ' 'Well then--' cries the gentleman, rising in despair, and pacing the room with rapid strides. 'By G-, this is enough to destroy a man's intellect, and drive him mad!'

By and by the gentleman comes-to a little, and passing his handgloomily across his forehead, reseats himself in his former chair. There is a long silence, and this time the lady begins. 'Iappealed to Mr. Jenkins, who sat next to me on the sofa in thedrawing-room during tea--' 'Morgan, you mean, ' interrupts thegentleman. 'I do not mean anything of the kind, ' answers the lady. 'Now, by all that is aggravating and impossible to bear, ' cries thegentleman, clenching his hands and looking upwards in agony, 'sheis going to insist upon it that Morgan is Jenkins!' 'Do you takeme for a perfect fool?' exclaims the lady; 'do you suppose I don'tknow the one from the other? Do you suppose I don't know that theman in the blue coat was Mr. Jenkins?' 'Jenkins in a blue coat!'cries the gentleman with a groan; 'Jenkins in a blue coat! a manwho would suffer death rather than wear anything but brown!' 'Doyou dare to charge me with telling an untruth?' demands the lady, bursting into tears. 'I charge you, ma'am, ' retorts the gentleman, starting up, 'with being a monster of contradiction, a monster ofaggravation, a--a--a--Jenkins in a blue coat!--what have I donethat I should be doomed to hear such statements!'

Expressing himself with great scorn and anguish, the gentlemantakes up his candle and stalks off to bed, where feigning to befast asleep when the lady comes up-stairs drowned in tears, murmuring lamentations over her hard fate and indistinct intentionsof consulting her brothers, he undergoes the secret torture ofhearing her exclaim between whiles, 'I know there are only fourteendoors in the house, I know it was Mr. Jenkins, I know he had a bluecoat on, and I would say it as positively as I do now, if they werethe last words I had to speak!'

If the contradictory couple are blessed with children, they are notthe less contradictory on that account. Master James and MissCharlotte present themselves after dinner, and being in perfectgood humour, and finding their parents in the same amiable state, augur from these appearances half a glass of wine a-piece and otherextraordinary indulgences. But unfortunately Master James, growingtalkative upon such prospects, asks his mamma how tall Mrs. Parsonsis, and whether she is not six feet high; to which his mammareplies, 'Yes, she should think she was, for Mrs. Parsons is a verytall lady indeed; quite a giantess. ' 'For Heaven's sake, Charlotte, ' cries her husband, 'do not tell the child suchpreposterous nonsense. Six feet high!' 'Well, ' replies the lady, 'surely I may be permitted to have an opinion; my opinion is, thatshe is six feet high--at least six feet. ' 'Now you know, Charlotte, ' retorts the gentleman sternly, 'that that is NOT youropinion--that you have no such idea--and that you only say this forthe sake of contradiction. ' 'You are exceedingly polite, ' his wifereplies; 'to be wrong about such a paltry question as anybody'sheight, would be no great crime; but I say again, that I believeMrs. Parsons to be six feet--more than six feet; nay, I believe youknow her to be full six feet, and only say she is not, because Isay she is. ' This taunt disposes the gentleman to become violent, but he cheeks himself, and is content to mutter, in a haughty tone, 'Six feet--ha! ha! Mrs. Parsons six feet!' and the lady answers, 'Yes, six feet. I am sure I am glad you are amused, and I'll sayit again--six feet. ' Thus the subject gradually drops off, and thecontradiction begins to be forgotten, when Master James, with someundefined notion of making himself agreeable, and putting things torights again, unfortunately asks his mamma what the moon's made of;which gives her occasion to say that he had better not ask her, forshe is always wrong and never can be right; that he only exposesher to contradiction by asking any question of her; and that he hadbetter ask his papa, who is infallible, and never can be wrong. Papa, smarting under this attack, gives a terrible pull at thebell, and says, that if the conversation is to proceed in this way, the children had better be removed. Removed they are, after a fewtears and many struggles; and Pa having looked at Ma sideways for aminute or two, with a baleful eye, draws his pocket-handkerchiefover his face, and composes himself for his after-dinner nap. 

The friends of the contradictory couple often deplore theirfrequent disputes, though they rather make light of them at thesame time: observing, that there is no doubt they are very muchattached to each other, and that they never quarrel except abouttrifles. But neither the friends of the contradictory couple, northe contradictory couple themselves, reflect, that as the moststupendous objects in nature are but vast collections of minuteparticles, so the slightest and least considered trifles make upthe sum of human happiness or misery. 

THE COUPLE WHO DOTE UPON THEIR CHILDREN

The couple who dote upon their children have usually a great manyof them: six or eight at least. The children are either thehealthiest in all the world, or the most unfortunate in existence. In either case, they are equally the theme of their doting parents, and equally a source of mental anguish and irritation to theirdoting parents' friends. 

The couple who dote upon their children recognise no dates butthose connected with their births, accidents, illnesses, orremarkable deeds. They keep a mental almanack with a vast numberof Innocents'-days, all in red letters. They recollect the lastcoronation, because on that day little Tom fell down the kitchenstairs; the anniversary of the Gunpowder Plot, because it was onthe fifth of November that Ned asked whether wooden legs were madein heaven and cocked hats grew in gardens. Mrs. Whiffler willnever cease to recollect the last day of the old year as long asshe lives, for it was on that day that the baby had the four redspots on its nose which they took for measles: nor Christmas-day, for twenty-one days after Christmas-day the twins were born; norGood Friday, for it was on a Good Friday that she was frightened bythe donkey-cart when she was in the family way with Georgiana. Themovable feasts have no motion for Mr. And Mrs. Whiffler, but remainpinned down tight and fast to the shoulders of some small child, from whom they can never be separated any more. Time was made, according to their creed, not for slaves but for girls and boys;the restless sands in his glass are but little children at play. 

As we have already intimated, the children of this couple can knowno medium. They are either prodigies of good health or prodigiesof bad health; whatever they are, they must be prodigies. Mr. Whiffler must have to describe at his office such excruciatingagonies constantly undergone by his eldest boy, as nobody else'seldest boy ever underwent; or he must be able to declare that therenever was a child endowed with such amazing health, such anindomitable constitution, and such a cast-iron frame, as his child. His children must be, in some respect or other, above and beyondthe children of all other people. To such an extent is thisfeeling pushed, that we were once slightly acquainted with a ladyand gentleman who carried their heads so high and became so proudafter their youngest child fell out of a two-pair-of-stairs windowwithout hurting himself much, that the greater part of theirfriends were obliged to forego their acquaintance. But perhapsthis may be an extreme case, and one not justly entitled to beconsidered as a precedent of general application. 

If a friend happen to dine in a friendly way with one of thesecouples who dote upon their children, it is nearly impossible forhim to divert the conversation from their favourite topic. Everything reminds Mr. Whiffler of Ned, or Mrs. Whiffler of MaryAnne, or of the time before Ned was born, or the time before MaryAnne was thought of. The slightest remark, however harmless initself, will awaken slumbering recollections of the twins. It isimpossible to steer clear of them. They will come uppermost, letthe poor man do what he may. Ned has been known to be lost sightof for half an hour, Dick has been forgotten, the name of Mary Annehas not been mentioned, but the twins will out. Nothing can keepdown the twins. 

'It's a very extraordinary thing, Saunders, ' says Mr. Whiffler tothe visitor, 'but--you have seen our little babies, the--the--twins?' The friend's heart sinks within him as he answers, 'Oh, yes--often. ' 'Your talking of the Pyramids, ' says Mr. Whiffler, quite as a matter of course, 'reminds me of the twins. It's a veryextraordinary thing about those babies--what colour should you saytheir eyes were?' 'Upon my word, ' the friend stammers, 'I hardlyknow how to answer'--the fact being, that except as the friend doesnot remember to have heard of any departure from the ordinarycourse of nature in the instance of these twins, they might have noeyes at all for aught he has observed to the contrary. 'Youwouldn't say they were red, I suppose?' says Mr. Whiffler. Thefriend hesitates, and rather thinks they are; but inferring fromthe expression of Mr. Whiffler's face that red is not the colour, smiles with some confidence, and says, 'No, no! very different fromthat. ' 'What should you say to blue?' says Mr. Whiffler. Thefriend glances at him, and observing a different expression in hisface, ventures to say, 'I should say they WERE blue--a decidedblue. ' 'To be sure!' cries Mr. Whiffler, triumphantly, 'I knew youwould! But what should you say if I was to tell you that the boy'seyes are blue and the girl's hazel, eh?' 'Impossible!' exclaimsthe friend, not at all knowing why it should be impossible. 'Afact, notwithstanding, ' cries Mr. Whiffler; 'and let me tell you, Saunders, THAT'S not a common thing in twins, or a circumstancethat'll happen every day. '

In this dialogue Mrs. Whiffler, as being deeply responsible for thetwins, their charms and singularities, has taken no share; but shenow relates, in broken English, a witticism of little Dick'sbearing upon the subject just discussed, which delights Mr. Whiffler beyond measure, and causes him to declare that he wouldhave sworn that was Dick's if he had heard it anywhere. Then herequests that Mrs. Whiffler will tell Saunders what Tom said aboutmad bulls; and Mrs. Whiffler relating the anecdote, a discussionensues upon the different character of Tom's wit and Dick's wit, from which it appears that Dick's humour is of a lively turn, whileTom's style is the dry and caustic. This discussion beingenlivened by various illustrations, lasts a long time, and is onlystopped by Mrs. Whiffler instructing the footman to ring thenursery bell, as the children were promised that they should comedown and taste the pudding. 

The friend turns pale when this order is given, and paler stillwhen it is followed up by a great pattering on the staircase, (notunlike the sound of rain upon a skylight, ) a violent bursting openof the dining-room door, and the tumultuous appearance of six smallchildren, closely succeeded by a strong nursery-maid with a twin ineach arm. As the whole eight are screaming, shouting, or kicking--some influenced by a ravenous appetite, some by a horror of thestranger, and some by a conflict of the two feelings--a pretty longspace elapses before all their heads can be ranged round the tableand anything like order restored; in bringing about which happystate of things both the nurse and footman are severely scratched. At length Mrs. Whiffler is heard to say, 'Mr. Saunders, shall Igive you some pudding?' A breathless silence ensues, and sixteensmall eyes are fixed upon the guest in expectation of his reply. Awild shout of joy proclaims that he has said 'No, thank you. 'Spoons are waved in the air, legs appear above the table-cloth inuncontrollable ecstasy, and eighty short fingers dabble in damsonsyrup. 

While the pudding is being disposed of, Mr. And Mrs. Whiffler lookon with beaming countenances, and Mr. Whiffler nudging his friendSaunders, begs him to take notice of Tom's eyes, or Dick's chin, orNed's nose, or Mary Anne's hair, or Emily's figure, or little Bob'scalves, or Fanny's mouth, or Carry's head, as the case may be. Whatever the attention of Mr. Saunders is called to, Mr. Saundersadmires of course; though he is rather confused about the sex ofthe youngest branches and looks at the wrong children, turning to agirl when Mr. Whiffler directs his attention to a boy, and fallinginto raptures with a boy when he ought to be enchanted with a girl. Then the dessert comes, and there is a vast deal of scramblingafter fruit, and sudden spirting forth of juice out of tightoranges into infant eyes, and much screeching and wailing inconsequence. At length it becomes time for Mrs. Whiffler toretire, and all the children are by force of arms compelled to kissand love Mr. Saunders before going up-stairs, except Tom, who, lying on his back in the hall, proclaims that Mr. Saunders 'is anaughty beast;' and Dick, who having drunk his father's wine whenhe was looking another way, is found to be intoxicated and iscarried out, very limp and helpless. 

Mr. Whiffler and his friend are left alone together, but Mr. Whiffler's thoughts are still with his family, if his family arenot with him. 'Saunders, ' says he, after a short silence, 'if youplease, we'll drink Mrs. Whiffler and the children. ' Mr. Saundersfeels this to be a reproach against himself for not proposing thesame sentiment, and drinks it in some confusion. 'Ah!' Mr. Whiffler sighs, 'these children, Saunders, make one quite an oldman. ' Mr. Saunders thinks that if they were his, they would makehim a very old man; but he says nothing. 'And yet, ' pursues Mr. Whiffler, 'what can equal domestic happiness? what can equal theengaging ways of children! Saunders, why don't you get married?'Now, this is an embarrassing question, because Mr. Saunders hasbeen thinking that if he had at any time entertained matrimonialdesigns, the revelation of that day would surely have routed themfor ever. 'I am glad, however, ' says Mr. Whiffler, 'that you ARE abachelor, --glad on one account, Saunders; a selfish one, I admit. Will you do Mrs. Whiffler and myself a favour?' Mr. Saunders issurprised--evidently surprised; but he replies, 'with the greatestpleasure. ' 'Then, will you, Saunders, ' says Mr. Whiffler, in animpressive manner, 'will you cement and consolidate our friendshipby coming into the family (so to speak) as a godfather?' 'I shallbe proud and delighted, ' replies Mr. Saunders: 'which of thechildren is it? really, I thought they were all christened; or--''Saunders, ' Mr. Whiffler interposes, 'they ARE all christened; youare right. The fact is, that Mrs. Whiffler is--in short, we expectanother. ' 'Not a ninth!' cries the friend, all aghast at the idea. 'Yes, Saunders, ' rejoins Mr. Whiffler, solemnly, 'a ninth. Did wedrink Mrs. Whiffler's health? Let us drink it again, Saunders, andwish her well over it!'

Doctor Johnson used to tell a story of a man who had but one idea, which was a wrong one. The couple who dote upon their children arein the same predicament: at home or abroad, at all times, and inall places, their thoughts are bound up in this one subject, andhave no sphere beyond. They relate the clever things theiroffspring say or do, and weary every company with their prolixityand absurdity. Mr. Whiffler takes a friend by the button at astreet corner on a windy day to tell him a bon mot of his youngestboy's; and Mrs. Whiffler, calling to see a sick acquaintance, entertains her with a cheerful account of all her own pastsufferings and present expectations. In such cases the sins of thefathers indeed descend upon the children; for people soon come toregard them as predestined little bores. The couple who dote upontheir children cannot be said to be actuated by a general love forthese engaging little people (which would be a great excuse); forthey are apt to underrate and entertain a jealousy of any childrenbut their own. If they examined their own hearts, they would, perhaps, find at the bottom of all this, more self-love and egotismthan they think of. Self-love and egotism are bad qualities, ofwhich the unrestrained exhibition, though it may be sometimesamusing, never fails to be wearisome and unpleasant. Couples whodote upon their children, therefore, are best avoided. 

THE COOL COUPLE

There is an old-fashioned weather-glass representing a house withtwo doorways, in one of which is the figure of a gentleman, in theother the figure of a lady. When the weather is to be fine thelady comes out and the gentleman goes in; when wet, the gentlemancomes out and the lady goes in. They never seek each other'ssociety, are never elevated and depressed by the same cause, andhave nothing in common. They are the model of a cool couple, except that there is something of politeness and considerationabout the behaviour of the gentleman in the weather-glass, inwhich, neither of the cool couple can be said to participate. 

The cool couple are seldom alone together, and when they are, nothing can exceed their apathy and dulness: the gentleman beingfor the most part drowsy, and the lady silent. If they enter intoconversation, it is usually of an ironical or recriminatory nature. Thus, when the gentleman has indulged in a very long yawn andsettled himself more snugly in his easy-chair, the lady willperhaps remark, 'Well, I am sure, Charles! I hope you'recomfortable. ' To which the gentleman replies, 'Oh yes, he's quitecomfortable quite. ' 'There are not many married men, I hope, 'returns the lady, 'who seek comfort in such selfish gratificationsas you do. ' 'Nor many wives who seek comfort in such selfishgratifications as YOU do, I hope, ' retorts the gentleman. 'Whosefault is that?' demands the lady. The gentleman becoming moresleepy, returns no answer. 'Whose fault is that?' the ladyrepeats. The gentleman still returning no answer, she goes on tosay that she believes there never was in all this world anybody soattached to her home, so thoroughly domestic, so unwilling to seeka moment's gratification or pleasure beyond her own fireside asshe. God knows that before she was married she never thought ordreamt of such a thing; and she remembers that her poor papa usedto say again and again, almost every day of his life, 'Oh, my dearLouisa, if you only marry a man who understands you, and takes thetrouble to consider your happiness and accommodate himself a verylittle to your disposition, what a treasure he will find in you!'She supposes her papa knew what her disposition was--he had knownher long enough--he ought to have been acquainted with it, but whatcan she do? If her home is always dull and lonely, and her husbandis always absent and finds no pleasure in her society, she isnaturally sometimes driven (seldom enough, she is sure) to seek alittle recreation elsewhere; she is not expected to pine and mopeto death, she hopes. 'Then come, Louisa, ' says the gentleman, waking up as suddenly as he fell asleep, 'stop at home thisevening, and so will I. ' 'I should be sorry to suppose, Charles, that you took a pleasure in aggravating me, ' replies the lady; 'butyou know as well as I do that I am particularly engaged to Mrs. Mortimer, and that it would be an act of the grossest rudeness andill-breeding, after accepting a seat in her box and preventing herfrom inviting anybody else, not to go. ' 'Ah! there it is!' saysthe gentleman, shrugging his shoulders, 'I knew that perfectlywell. I knew you couldn't devote an evening to your own home. Nowall I have to say, Louisa, is this--recollect that _I_ was quitewilling to stay at home, and that it's no fault of MINE we are notoftener together. '

With that the gentleman goes away to keep an old appointment at hisclub, and the lady hurries off to dress for Mrs. Mortimer's; andneither thinks of the other until by some odd chance they findthemselves alone again. 

But it must not be supposed that the cool couple are habitually aquarrelsome one. Quite the contrary. These differences are onlyoccasions for a little self-excuse, --nothing more. In general theyare as easy and careless, and dispute as seldom, as any commonacquaintances may; for it is neither worth their while to put eachother out of the way, nor to ruffle themselves. 

When they meet in society, the cool couple are the best-bred peoplein existence. The lady is seated in a corner among a little knotof lady friends, one of whom exclaims, 'Why, I vow and declarethere is your husband, my dear!' 'Whose?--mine?' she says, carelessly. 'Ay, yours, and coming this way too. ' 'How very odd!'says the lady, in a languid tone, 'I thought he had been at Dover. 'The gentleman coming up, and speaking to all the other ladies andnodding slightly to his wife, it turns out that he has been atDover, and has just now returned. 'What a strange creature youare!' cries his wife; 'and what on earth brought you here, Iwonder?' 'I came to look after you, OF COURSE, ' rejoins herhusband. This is so pleasant a jest that the lady is mightilyamused, as are all the other ladies similarly situated who arewithin hearing; and while they are enjoying it to the full, thegentleman nods again, turns upon his heel, and saunters away. 

There are times, however, when his company is not so agreeable, though equally unexpected; such as when the lady has invited one ortwo particular friends to tea and scandal, and he happens to comehome in the very midst of their diversion. It is a hundred chancesto one that he remains in the house half an hour, but the lady israther disturbed by the intrusion, notwithstanding, and reasonswithin herself, --'I am sure I never interfere with him, and whyshould he interfere with me? It can scarcely be accidental; itnever happens that I have a particular reason for not wishing himto come home, but he always comes. It's very provoking andtiresome; and I am sure when he leaves me so much alone for his ownpleasure, the least he could do would be to do as much for mine. 'Observing what passes in her mind, the gentleman, who has come homefor his own accommodation, makes a merit of it with himself;arrives at the conclusion that it is the very last place in whichhe can hope to be comfortable; and determines, as he takes up hishat and cane, never to be so virtuous again. 

Thus a great many cool couples go on until they are cold couples, and the grave has closed over their folly and indifference. Lossof name, station, character, life itself, has ensued from causes asslight as these, before now; and when gossips tell such tales, andaggravate their deformities, they elevate their hands and eyebrows, and call each other to witness what a cool couple Mr. And Mrs. So-and-so always were, even in the best of times. 

THE PLAUSIBLE COUPLE

The plausible couple have many titles. They are 'a delightfulcouple, ' an 'affectionate couple, ' 'a most agreeable couple, 'agood-hearted couple, ' and 'the best-natured couple in existence. 'The truth is, that the plausible couple are people of the world;and either the way of pleasing the world has grown much easier thanit was in the days of the old man and his ass, or the old man wasbut a bad hand at it, and knew very little of the trade. 

'But is it really possible to please the world!' says some doubtingreader. It is indeed. Nay, it is not only very possible, but veryeasy. The ways are crooked, and sometimes foul and low. Whatthen? A man need but crawl upon his hands and knees, know when toclose his eyes and when his ears, when to stoop and when to standupright; and if by the world is meant that atom of it in which hemoves himself, he shall please it, never fear. 

Now, it will be readily seen, that if a plausible man or woman havean easy means of pleasing the world by an adaptation of self to allits twistings and twinings, a plausible man AND woman, or, in otherwords, a plausible couple, playing into each other's hands, andacting in concert, have a manifest advantage. Hence it is thatplausible couples scarcely ever fail of success on a pretty largescale; and hence it is that if the reader, laying down thisunwieldy volume at the next full stop, will have the goodness toreview his or her circle of acquaintance, and to searchparticularly for some man and wife with a large connexion and agood name, not easily referable to their abilities or their wealth, he or she (that is, the male or female reader) will certainly findthat gentleman or lady, on a very short reflection, to be aplausible couple. 

The plausible couple are the most ecstatic people living: the mostsensitive people--to merit--on the face of the earth. Nothingclever or virtuous escapes them. They have microscopic eyes forsuch endowments, and can find them anywhere. The plausible couplenever fawn--oh no! They don't even scruple to tell their friendsof their faults. One is too generous, another too candid; a thirdhas a tendency to think all people like himself, and to regardmankind as a company of angels; a fourth is kind-hearted to afault. 'We never flatter, my dear Mrs. Jackson, ' say the plausiblecouple; 'we speak our minds. Neither you nor Mr. Jackson havefaults enough. It may sound strangely, but it is true. You havenot faults enough. You know our way, --we must speak out, andalways do. Quarrel with us for saying so, if you will; but werepeat it, --you have not faults enough!'

The plausible couple are no less plausible to each other than tothird parties. They are always loving and harmonious. Theplausible gentleman calls his wife 'darling, ' and the plausiblelady addresses him as 'dearest. ' If it be Mr. And Mrs. BobtailWidger, Mrs. Widger is 'Lavinia, darling, ' and Mr. Widger is'Bobtail, dearest. ' Speaking of each other, they observe the sametender form. Mrs. Widger relates what 'Bobtail' said, and Mr. Widger recounts what 'darling' thought and did. 

If you sit next to the plausible lady at a dinner-table, she takesthe earliest opportunity of expressing her belief that you areacquainted with the Clickits; she is sure she has heard theClickits speak of you--she must not tell you in what terms, or youwill take her for a flatterer. You admit a knowledge of theClickits; the plausible lady immediately launches out in theirpraise. She quite loves the Clickits. Were there ever such true-hearted, hospitable, excellent people--such a gentle, interestinglittle woman as Mrs. Clickit, or such a frank, unaffected creatureas Mr. Clickit? were there ever two people, in short, so littlespoiled by the world as they are? 'As who, darling?' cries Mr. Widger, from the opposite side of the table. 'The Clickits, dearest, ' replies Mrs. Widger. 'Indeed you are right, darling, 'Mr. Widger rejoins; 'the Clickits are a very high-minded, worthy, estimable couple. ' Mrs. Widger remarking that Bobtail always growsquite eloquent upon this subject, Mr. Widger admits that he feelsvery strongly whenever such people as the Clickits and some otherfriends of his (here he glances at the host and hostess) arementioned; for they are an honour to human nature, and do one goodto think of. 'YOU know the Clickits, Mrs. Jackson?' he says, addressing the lady of the house. 'No, indeed; we have not thatpleasure, ' she replies. 'You astonish me!' exclaims Mr. Widger:'not know the Clickits! why, you are the very people of all otherswho ought to be their bosom friends. You are kindred beings; youare one and the same thing:- not know the Clickits! Now WILL youknow the Clickits? Will you make a point of knowing them? Willyou meet them in a friendly way at our house one evening, and beacquainted with them?' Mrs. Jackson will be quite delighted;nothing would give her more pleasure. 'Then, Lavinia, my darling, 'says Mr. Widger, 'mind you don't lose sight of that; now, pray takecare that Mr. And Mrs. Jackson know the Clickits without loss oftime. Such people ought not to be strangers to each other. ' Mrs. Widger books both families as the centre of attraction for her nextparty; and Mr. Widger, going on to expatiate upon the virtues ofthe Clickits, adds to their other moral qualities, that they keepone of the neatest phaetons in town, and have two thousand a year. 

As the plausible couple never laud the merits of any absent person, without dexterously contriving that their praises shall reflectupon somebody who is present, so they never depreciate anything oranybody, without turning their depreciation to the same account. Their friend, Mr. Slummery, say they, is unquestionably a cleverpainter, and would no doubt be very popular, and sell his picturesat a very high price, if that cruel Mr. Fithers had not forestalledhim in his department of art, and made it thoroughly and completelyhis own;--Fithers, it is to be observed, being present and withinhearing, and Slummery elsewhere. Is Mrs. Tabblewick really asbeautiful as people say? Why, there indeed you ask them a verypuzzling question, because there is no doubt that she is a verycharming woman, and they have long known her intimately. She is nodoubt beautiful, very beautiful; they once thought her the mostbeautiful woman ever seen; still if you press them for an honestanswer, they are bound to say that this was before they had everseen our lovely friend on the sofa, (the sofa is hard by, and ourlovely friend can't help hearing the whispers in which this issaid;) since that time, perhaps, they have been hardly fair judges;Mrs. Tabblewick is no doubt extremely handsome, --very like ourfriend, in fact, in the form of the features, --but in point ofexpression, and soul, and figure, and air altogether--oh dear!

But while the plausible couple depreciate, they are still carefulto preserve their character for amiability and kind feeling; indeedthe depreciation itself is often made to grow out of theirexcessive sympathy and good will. The plausible lady calls on alady who dotes upon her children, and is sitting with a little girlupon her knee, enraptured by her artless replies, and protestingthat there is nothing she delights in so much as conversing withthese fairies; when the other lady inquires if she has seen youngMrs. Finching lately, and whether the baby has turned out a finerone than it promised to be. 'Oh dear!' cries the plausible lady, 'you cannot think how often Bobtail and I have talked about poorMrs. Finching--she is such a dear soul, and was so anxious that thebaby should be a fine child--and very naturally, because she wasvery much here at one time, and there is, you know, a naturalemulation among mothers--that it is impossible to tell you how muchwe have felt for her. ' 'Is it weak or plain, or what?' inquiresthe other. 'Weak or plain, my love, ' returns the plausible lady, 'it's a fright--a perfect little fright; you never saw such amiserable creature in all your days. Positively you must not lether see one of these beautiful dears again, or you'll break herheart, you will indeed. --Heaven bless this child, see how she islooking in my face! can you conceive anything prettier than that?If poor Mrs. Finching could only hope--but that's impossible--andthe gifts of Providence, you know--What DID I do with my pocket-handkerchief!'

What prompts the mother, who dotes upon her children, to comment toher lord that evening on the plausible lady's engaging qualitiesand feeling heart, and what is it that procures Mr. And Mrs. Bobtail Widger an immediate invitation to dinner?

THE NICE LITTLE COUPLE

A custom once prevailed in old-fashioned circles, that when a ladyor gentleman was unable to sing a song, he or she should enliventhe company with a story. As we find ourself in the predicament ofnot being able to describe (to our own satisfaction) nice littlecouples in the abstract, we purpose telling in this place a littlestory about a nice little couple of our acquaintance. 

Mr. And Mrs. Chirrup are the nice little couple in question. Mr. Chirrup has the smartness, and something of the brisk, quick mannerof a small bird. Mrs. Chirrup is the prettiest of all littlewomen, and has the prettiest little figure conceivable. She hasthe neatest little foot, and the softest little voice, and thepleasantest little smile, and the tidiest little curls, and thebrightest little eyes, and the quietest little manner, and is, inshort, altogether one of the most engaging of all little women, dead or alive. She is a condensation of all the domestic virtues, --a pocket edition of the young man's best companion, --a littlewoman at a very high pressure, with an amazing quantity of goodnessand usefulness in an exceedingly small space. Little as she is, Mrs. Chirrup might furnish forth matter for the moral equipment ofa score of housewives, six feet high in their stockings--if, in thepresence of ladies, we may be allowed the expression--and ofcorresponding robustness. 

Nobody knows all this better than Mr. Chirrup, though he rathertakes on that he don't. Accordingly he is very proud of hisbetter-half, and evidently considers himself, as all other peopleconsider him, rather fortunate in having her to wife. We sayevidently, because Mr. Chirrup is a warm-hearted little fellow; andif you catch his eye when he has been slyly glancing at Mrs. Chirrup in company, there is a certain complacent twinkle in it, accompanied, perhaps, by a half-expressed toss of the head, whichas clearly indicates what has been passing in his mind as if he hadput it into words, and shouted it out through a speaking-trumpet. Moreover, Mr. Chirrup has a particularly mild and bird-like mannerof calling Mrs. Chirrup 'my dear;' and--for he is of a jocose turn--of cutting little witticisms upon her, and making her the subjectof various harmless pleasantries, which nobody enjoys morethoroughly than Mrs. Chirrup herself. Mr. Chirrup, too, now andthen affects to deplore his bachelor-days, and to bemoan (with amarvellously contented and smirking face) the loss of his freedom, and the sorrow of his heart at having been taken captive by Mrs. Chirrup--all of which circumstances combine to show the secrettriumph and satisfaction of Mr. Chirrup's soul. 

We have already had occasion to observe that Mrs. Chirrup is anincomparable housewife. In all the arts of domestic arrangementand management, in all the mysteries of confectionery-making, pickling, and preserving, never was such a thorough adept as thatnice little body. She is, besides, a cunning worker in muslin andfine linen, and a special hand at marketing to the very bestadvantage. But if there be one branch of housekeeping in which sheexcels to an utterly unparalleled and unprecedented extent, it isin the important one of carving. A roast goose is universallyallowed to be the great stumbling-block in the way of youngaspirants to perfection in this department of science; manypromising carvers, beginning with legs of mutton, and preserving agood reputation through fillets of veal, sirloins of beef, quartersof lamb, fowls, and even ducks, have sunk before a roast goose, andlost caste and character for ever. To Mrs. Chirrup the resolving agoose into its smallest component parts is a pleasant pastime--apractical joke--a thing to be done in a minute or so, without thesmallest interruption to the conversation of the time. No handingthe dish over to an unfortunate man upon her right or left, no wildsharpening of the knife, no hacking and sawing at an unruly joint, no noise, no splash, no heat, no leaving off in despair; all isconfidence and cheerfulness. The dish is set upon the table, thecover is removed; for an instant, and only an instant, you observethat Mrs. Chirrup's attention is distracted; she smiles, butheareth not. You proceed with your story; meanwhile the glitteringknife is slowly upraised, both Mrs. Chirrup's wrists are slightlybut not ungracefully agitated, she compresses her lips for aninstant, then breaks into a smile, and all is over. The legs ofthe bird slide gently down into a pool of gravy, the wings seem tomelt from the body, the breast separates into a row of juicyslices, the smaller and more complicated parts of his anatomy areperfectly developed, a cavern of stuffing is revealed, and thegoose is gone!

To dine with Mr. And Mrs. Chirrup is one of the pleasantest thingsin the world. Mr. Chirrup has a bachelor friend, who lived withhim in his own days of single blessedness, and to whom he ismightily attached. Contrary to the usual custom, this bachelorfriend is no less a friend of Mrs. Chirrup's, and, consequently, whenever you dine with Mr. And Mrs. Chirrup, you meet the bachelorfriend. It would put any reasonably-conditioned mortal into good-humour to observe the entire unanimity which subsists between thesethree; but there is a quiet welcome dimpling in Mrs. Chirrup'sface, a bustling hospitality oozing as it were out of thewaistcoat-pockets of Mr. Chirrup, and a patronising enjoyment oftheir cordiality and satisfaction on the part of the bachelorfriend, which is quite delightful. On these occasions Mr. Chirrupusually takes an opportunity of rallying the friend on beingsingle, and the friend retorts on Mr. Chirrup for being married, atwhich moments some single young ladies present are like to die oflaughter; and we have more than once observed them bestow looksupon the friend, which convinces us that his position is by nomeans a safe one, as, indeed, we hold no bachelor's to be whovisits married friends and cracks jokes on wedlock, for certain itis that such men walk among traps and nets and pitfallsinnumerable, and often find themselves down upon their knees at thealtar rails, taking M. Or N. For their wedded wives, before theyknow anything about the matter. 

However, this is no business of Mr. Chirrup's, who talks, andlaughs, and drinks his wine, and laughs again, and talks more, until it is time to repair to the drawing-room, where, coffeeserved and over, Mrs. Chirrup prepares for a round game, by sortingthe nicest possible little fish into the nicest possible littlepools, and calling Mr. Chirrup to assist her, which Mr. Chirrupdoes. As they stand side by side, you find that Mr. Chirrup is theleast possible shadow of a shade taller than Mrs. Chirrup, and thatthey are the neatest and best-matched little couple that can be, which the chances are ten to one against your observing with sucheffect at any other time, unless you see them in the street arm-in-arm, or meet them some rainy day trotting along under a very smallumbrella. The round game (at which Mr. Chirrup is the merriest ofthe party) being done and over, in course of time a nice littletray appears, on which is a nice little supper; and when that isfinished likewise, and you have said 'Good night, ' you findyourself repeating a dozen times, as you ride home, that therenever was such a nice little couple as Mr. And Mrs. Chirrup. 

Whether it is that pleasant qualities, being packed more closely insmall bodies than in large, come more readily to hand than whenthey are diffused over a wider space, and have to be gatheredtogether for use, we don't know, but as a general rule, --strengthened like all other rules by its exceptions, --we hold thatlittle people are sprightly and good-natured. The more sprightlyand good-natured people we have, the better; therefore, let us wishwell to all nice little couples, and hope that they may increaseand multiply. 

THE EGOTISTICAL COUPLE

Egotism in couples is of two kinds. --It is our purpose to show thisby two examples. 

The egotistical couple may be young, old, middle-aged, well to do, or ill to do; they may have a small family, a large family, or nofamily at all. There is no outward sign by which an egotisticalcouple may be known and avoided. They come upon you unawares;there is no guarding against them. No man can of himself beforewarned or forearmed against an egotistical couple. 

The egotistical couple have undergone every calamity, andexperienced every pleasurable and painful sensation of which ournature is susceptible. You cannot by possibility tell theegotistical couple anything they don't know, or describe to themanything they have not felt. They have been everything but dead. Sometimes we are tempted to wish they had been even that, but onlyin our uncharitable moments, which are few and far between. 

We happened the other day, in the course of a morning call, toencounter an egotistical couple, nor were we suffered to remainlong in ignorance of the fact, for our very first inquiry of thelady of the house brought them into active and vigorous operation. The inquiry was of course touching the lady's health, and theanswer happened to be, that she had not been very well. 'Oh, mydear!' said the egotistical lady, 'don't talk of not being well. We have been in SUCH a state since we saw you last!'--The lady ofthe house happening to remark that her lord had not been welleither, the egotistical gentleman struck in: 'Never let Briggscomplain of not being well--never let Briggs complain, my dear Mrs. Briggs, after what I have undergone within these six weeks. Hedoesn't know what it is to be ill, he hasn't the least idea of it;not the faintest conception. '--'My dear, ' interposed his wifesmiling, 'you talk as if it were almost a crime in Mr. Briggs notto have been as ill as we have been, instead of feeling thankful toProvidence that both he and our dear Mrs. Briggs are in suchblissful ignorance of real suffering. '--'My love, ' returned theegotistical gentleman, in a low and pious voice, 'you mistake me;--I feel grateful--very grateful. I trust our friends may neverpurchase their experience as dearly as we have bought ours; I hopethey never may!'

Having put down Mrs. Briggs upon this theme, and settled thequestion thus, the egotistical gentleman turned to us, and, after afew preliminary remarks, all tending towards and leading up to thepoint he had in his mind, inquired if we happened to be acquaintedwith the Dowager Lady Snorflerer. On our replying in the negative, he presumed we had often met Lord Slang, or beyond all doubt, thatwe were on intimate terms with Sir Chipkins Glogwog. Finding thatwe were equally unable to lay claim to either of thesedistinctions, he expressed great astonishment, and turning to hiswife with a retrospective smile, inquired who it was that had toldthat capital story about the mashed potatoes. 'Who, my dear?'returned the egotistical lady, 'why Sir Chipkins, of course; howcan you ask! Don't you remember his applying it to our cook, andsaying that you and I were so like the Prince and Princess, that hecould almost have sworn we were they?' 'To be sure, I rememberthat, ' said the egotistical gentleman, 'but are you quite certainthat didn't apply to the other anecdote about the Emperor ofAustria and the pump?' 'Upon my word then, I think it did, 'replied his wife. 'To be sure it did, ' said the egotisticalgentleman, 'it was Slang's story, I remember now, perfectly. 'However, it turned out, a few seconds afterwards, that theegotistical gentleman's memory was rather treacherous, as he beganto have a misgiving that the story had been told by the DowagerLady Snorflerer the very last time they dined there; but thereappearing, on further consideration, strong circumstantial evidencetending to show that this couldn't be, inasmuch as the Dowager LadySnorflerer had been, on the occasion in question, wholly engrossedby the egotistical lady, the egotistical gentleman recanted thisopinion; and after laying the story at the doors of a great manygreat people, happily left it at last with the Duke of Scuttlewig:-observing that it was not extraordinary he had forgotten his Gracehitherto, as it often happened that the names of those with whom wewere upon the most familiar footing were the very last to presentthemselves to our thoughts. 

It not only appeared that the egotistical couple knew everybody, but that scarcely any event of importance or notoriety had occurredfor many years with which they had not been in some way or otherconnected. Thus we learned that when the well-known attempt uponthe life of George the Third was made by Hatfield in Drury Lanetheatre, the egotistical gentleman's grandfather sat upon his righthand and was the first man who collared him; and that theegotistical lady's aunt, sitting within a few boxes of the royalparty, was the only person in the audience who heard his Majestyexclaim, 'Charlotte, Charlotte, don't be frightened, don't befrightened; they're letting off squibs, they're letting offsquibs. ' When the fire broke out, which ended in the destructionof the two Houses of Parliament, the egotistical couple, being atthe time at a drawing-room window on Blackheath, then and theresimultaneously exclaimed, to the astonishment of a whole party--'It's the House of Lords!' Nor was this a solitary instance oftheir peculiar discernment, for chancing to be (as by a comparisonof dates and circumstances they afterwards found) in the sameomnibus with Mr. Greenacre, when he carried his victim's head abouttown in a blue bag, they both remarked a singular twitching in themuscles of his countenance; and walking down Fish Street Hill, afew weeks since, the egotistical gentleman said to his lady--slightly casting up his eyes to the top of the Monument--'There's aboy up there, my dear, reading a Bible. It's very strange. Idon't like it. --In five seconds afterwards, Sir, ' says theegotistical gentleman, bringing his hands together with one violentclap--'the lad was over!'

Diversifying these topics by the introduction of many others of thesame kind, and entertaining us between whiles with a minute accountof what weather and diet agreed with them, and what weather anddiet disagreed with them, and at what time they usually got up, andat what time went to bed, with many other particulars of theirdomestic economy too numerous to mention; the egotistical couple atlength took their leave, and afforded us an opportunity of doingthe same. 

Mr. And Mrs. Sliverstone are an egotistical couple of anotherclass, for all the lady's egotism is about her husband, and all thegentleman's about his wife. For example:- Mr. Sliverstone is aclerical gentleman, and occasionally writes sermons, as clericalgentlemen do. If you happen to obtain admission at the street-doorwhile he is so engaged, Mrs. Sliverstone appears on tip-toe, andspeaking in a solemn whisper, as if there were at least three orfour particular friends up-stairs, all upon the point of death, implores you to be very silent, for Mr. Sliverstone is composing, and she need not say how very important it is that he should not bedisturbed. Unwilling to interrupt anything so serious, you hastento withdraw, with many apologies; but this Mrs. Sliverstone will byno means allow, observing, that she knows you would like to seehim, as it is very natural you should, and that she is determinedto make a trial for you, as you are a great favourite. So you areled up-stairs--still on tip-toe--to the door of a little back room, in which, as the lady informs you in a whisper, Mr. Sliverstonealways writes. No answer being returned to a couple of soft taps, the lady opens the door, and there, sure enough, is Mr. Sliverstone, with dishevelled hair, powdering away with pen, ink, and paper, at a rate which, if he has any power of sustaining it, would settle the longest sermon in no time. At first he is toomuch absorbed to be roused by this intrusion; but presently lookingup, says faintly, 'Ah!' and pointing to his desk with a weary andlanguid smile, extends his hand, and hopes you'll forgive him. Then Mrs. Sliverstone sits down beside him, and taking his hand inhers, tells you how that Mr. Sliverstone has been shut up thereever since nine o'clock in the morning, (it is by this time twelveat noon, ) and how she knows it cannot be good for his health, andis very uneasy about it. Unto this Mr. Sliverstone replies firmly, that 'It must be done;' which agonizes Mrs. Sliverstone still more, and she goes on to tell you that such were Mr. Sliverstone'slabours last week--what with the buryings, marryings, churchings, christenings, and all together, --that when he was going up thepulpit stairs on Sunday evening, he was obliged to hold on by therails, or he would certainly have fallen over into his own pew. Mr. Sliverstone, who has been listening and smiling meekly, says, 'Not quite so bad as that, not quite so bad!' he admits though, oncross-examination, that he WAS very near falling upon the vergerwho was following him up to bolt the door; but adds, that it washis duty as a Christian to fall upon him, if need were, and thathe, Mr. Sliverstone, and (possibly the verger too) ought to gloryin it. 

This sentiment communicates new impulse to Mrs. Sliverstone, wholaunches into new praises of Mr. Sliverstone's worth andexcellence, to which he listens in the same meek silence, save whenhe puts in a word of self-denial relative to some question of fact, as--'Not seventy-two christenings that week, my dear. Onlyseventy-one, only seventy-one. ' At length his lady has quiteconcluded, and then he says, Why should he repine, why should hegive way, why should he suffer his heart to sink within him? Is ithe alone who toils and suffers? What has she gone through, heshould like to know? What does she go through every day for himand for society?

With such an exordium Mr. Sliverstone launches out into glowingpraises of the conduct of Mrs. Sliverstone in the production ofeight young children, and the subsequent rearing and fostering ofthe same; and thus the husband magnifies the wife, and the wife thehusband. 

This would be well enough if Mr. And Mrs. Sliverstone kept it tothemselves, or even to themselves and a friend or two; but they donot. The more hearers they have, the more egotistical the couplebecome, and the more anxious they are to make believers in theirmerits. Perhaps this is the worst kind of egotism. It has noteven the poor excuse of being spontaneous, but is the result of adeliberate system and malice aforethought. Mere empty-headedconceit excites our pity, but ostentatious hypocrisy awakens ourdisgust. 

THE COUPLE WHO CODDLE THEMSELVES

Mrs. Merrywinkle's maiden name was Chopper. She was the only childof Mr. And Mrs. Chopper. Her father died when she was, as theplay-books express it, 'yet an infant;' and so old Mrs. Chopper, when her daughter married, made the house of her son-in-law herhome from that time henceforth, and set up her staff of rest withMr. And Mrs. Merrywinkle. 

Mr. And Mrs. Merrywinkle are a couple who coddle themselves; andthe venerable Mrs. Chopper is an aider and abettor in the same. 

Mr. Merrywinkle is a rather lean and long-necked gentleman, middle-aged and middle-sized, and usually troubled with a cold in thehead. Mrs. Merrywinkle is a delicate-looking lady, with very lighthair, and is exceedingly subject to the same unpleasant disorder. The venerable Mrs. Chopper--who is strictly entitled to theappellation, her daughter not being very young, otherwise than bycourtesy, at the time of her marriage, which was some years ago--isa mysterious old lady who lurks behind a pair of spectacles, and isafflicted with a chronic disease, respecting which she has taken avast deal of medical advice, and referred to a vast number ofmedical books, without meeting any definition of symptoms that atall suits her, or enables her to say, 'That's my complaint. 'Indeed, the absence of authentic information upon the subject ofthis complaint would seem to be Mrs. Chopper's greatest ill, as inall other respects she is an uncommonly hale and heartygentlewoman. 

Both Mr. And Mrs. Chopper wear an extraordinary quantity offlannel, and have a habit of putting their feet in hot water to anunnatural extent. They likewise indulge in chamomile tea and such-like compounds, and rub themselves on the slightest provocationwith camphorated spirits and other lotions applicable to mumps, sore-throat, rheumatism, or lumbago. 

Mr. Merrywinkle's leaving home to go to business on a damp or wetmorning is a very elaborate affair. He puts on wash-leather socksover his stockings, and India-rubber shoes above his boots, andwears under his waistcoat a cuirass of hare-skin. Besides theseprecautions, he winds a thick shawl round his throat, and blocks uphis mouth with a large silk handkerchief. Thus accoutred, andfurnished besides with a great-coat and umbrella, he braves thedangers of the streets; travelling in severe weather at a gentletrot, the better to preserve the circulation, and bringing hismouth to the surface to take breath, but very seldom, and with theutmost caution. His office-door opened, he shoots past his clerkat the same pace, and diving into his own private room, closes thedoor, examines the window-fastenings, and gradually unrobeshimself: hanging his pocket-handkerchief on the fender to air, anddetermining to write to the newspapers about the fog, which, hesays, 'has really got to that pitch that it is quite unbearable. '

In this last opinion Mrs. Merrywinkle and her respected motherfully concur; for though not present, their thoughts and tonguesare occupied with the same subject, which is their constant themeall day. If anybody happens to call, Mrs. Merrywinkle opines thatthey must assuredly be mad, and her first salutation is, 'Why, whatin the name of goodness can bring you out in such weather? Youknow you MUST catch your death. ' This assurance is corroborated byMrs. Chopper, who adds, in further confirmation, a dismal legendconcerning an individual of her acquaintance who, making a callunder precisely parallel circumstances, and being then in the besthealth and spirits, expired in forty-eight hours afterwards, of acomplication of inflammatory disorders. The visitor, rendered notaltogether comfortable perhaps by this and other precedents, inquires very affectionately after Mr. Merrywinkle, but by so doingbrings about no change of the subject; for Mr. Merrywinkle's nameis inseparably connected with his complaints, and his complaintsare inseparably connected with Mrs. Merrywinkle's; and when theseare done with, Mrs. Chopper, who has been biding her time, cuts inwith the chronic disorder--a subject upon which the amiable oldlady never leaves off speaking until she is left alone, and veryoften not then. 

But Mr. Merrywinkle comes home to dinner. He is received by Mrs. Merrywinkle and Mrs. Chopper, who, on his remarking that he thinkshis feet are damp, turn pale as ashes and drag him up-stairs, imploring him to have them rubbed directly with a dry coarse towel. Rubbed they are, one by Mrs. Merrywinkle and one by Mrs. Chopper, until the friction causes Mr. Merrywinkle to make horrible faces, and look as if he had been smelling very powerful onions; when theydesist, and the patient, provided for his better security withthick worsted stockings and list slippers, is borne down-stairs todinner. Now, the dinner is always a good one, the appetites of thediners being delicate, and requiring a little of what Mrs. Merrywinkle calls 'tittivation;' the secret of which is understoodto lie in good cookery and tasteful spices, and which process is sosuccessfully performed in the present instance, that both Mr. AndMrs. Merrywinkle eat a remarkably good dinner, and even theafflicted Mrs. Chopper wields her knife and fork with much of thespirit and elasticity of youth. But Mr. Merrywinkle, in his desireto gratify his appetite, is not unmindful of his health, for he hasa bottle of carbonate of soda with which to qualify his porter, anda little pair of scales in which to weigh it out. Neither in hisanxiety to take care of his body is he unmindful of the welfare ofhis immortal part, as he always prays that for what he is going toreceive he may be made truly thankful; and in order that he may beas thankful as possible, eats and drinks to the utmost. 

Either from eating and drinking so much, or from being the victimof this constitutional infirmity, among others, Mr. Merrywinkle, after two or three glasses of wine, falls fast asleep; and he hasscarcely closed his eyes, when Mrs. Merrywinkle and Mrs. Chopperfall asleep likewise. It is on awakening at tea-time that theirmost alarming symptoms prevail; for then Mr. Merrywinkle feels asif his temples were tightly bound round with the chain of thestreet-door, and Mrs. Merrywinkle as if she had made a heartydinner of half-hundredweights, and Mrs. Chopper as if cold waterwere running down her back, and oyster-knives with sharp pointswere plunging of their own accord into her ribs. Symptoms likethese are enough to make people peevish, and no wonder that theyremain so until supper-time, doing little more than doze andcomplain, unless Mr. Merrywinkle calls out very loudly to a servant'to keep that draught out, ' or rushes into the passage to flourishhis fist in the countenance of the twopenny-postman, for daring togive such a knock as he had just performed at the door of a privategentleman with nerves. 

Supper, coming after dinner, should consist of some gentleprovocative; and therefore the tittivating art is again inrequisition, and again--done honour to by Mr. And Mrs. Merrywinkle, still comforted and abetted by Mrs. Chopper. After supper, it isten to one but the last-named old lady becomes worse, and is ledoff to bed with the chronic complaint in full vigour. Mr. And Mrs. Merrywinkle, having administered to her a warm cordial, which issomething of the strongest, then repair to their own room, whereMr. Merrywinkle, with his legs and feet in hot water, superintendsthe mulling of some wine which he is to drink at the very moment heplunges into bed, while Mrs. Merrywinkle, in garments whose natureis unknown to and unimagined by all but married men, takes foursmall pills with a spasmodic look between each, and finally comesto something hot and fragrant out of another little saucepan, whichserves as her composing-draught for the night. 

There is another kind of couple who coddle themselves, and who doso at a cheaper rate and on more spare diet, because they areniggardly and parsimonious; for which reason they are kind enoughto coddle their visitors too. It is unnecessary to describe them, for our readers may rest assured of the accuracy of these generalprinciples:- that all couples who coddle themselves are selfish andslothful, --that they charge upon every wind that blows, every rainthat falls, and every vapour that hangs in the air, the evils whicharise from their own imprudence or the gloom which is engendered intheir own tempers, --and that all men and women, in couples orotherwise, who fall into exclusive habits of self-indulgence, andforget their natural sympathy and close connexion with everybodyand everything in the world around them, not only neglect the firstduty of life, but, by a happy retributive justice, deprivethemselves of its truest and best enjoyment. 

THE OLD COUPLE

They are grandfather and grandmother to a dozen grown people andhave great-grandchildren besides; their bodies are bent, their hairis grey, their step tottering and infirm. Is this the lightsomepair whose wedding was so merry, and have the young couple indeedgrown old so soon!

It seems but yesterday--and yet what a host of cares and griefs arecrowded into the intervening time which, reckoned by them, lengthens out into a century! How many new associations havewreathed themselves about their hearts since then! The old time isgone, and a new time has come for others--not for them. They arebut the rusting link that feebly joins the two, and is silentlyloosening its hold and dropping asunder. 

It seems but yesterday--and yet three of their children have sunkinto the grave, and the tree that shades it has grown quite old. One was an infant--they wept for him; the next a girl, a slightyoung thing too delicate for earth--her loss was hard indeed tobear. The third, a man. That was the worst of all, but even thatgrief is softened now. 

It seems but yesterday--and yet how the gay and laughing faces ofthat bright morning have changed and vanished from above ground!Faint likenesses of some remain about them yet, but they are veryfaint and scarcely to be traced. The rest are only seen in dreams, and even they are unlike what they were, in eyes so old and dim. 

One or two dresses from the bridal wardrobe are yet preserved. They are of a quaint and antique fashion, and seldom seen except inpictures. White has turned yellow, and brighter hues have faded. Do you wonder, child? The wrinkled face was once as smooth asyours, the eyes as bright, the shrivelled skin as fair anddelicate. It is the work of hands that have been dust these manyyears. 

Where are the fairy lovers of that happy day whose annual returncomes upon the old man and his wife, like the echo of some villagebell which has long been silent? Let yonder peevish bachelor, racked by rheumatic pains, and quarrelling with the world, let himanswer to the question. He recollects something of a favouriteplaymate; her name was Lucy--so they tell him. He is not surewhether she was married, or went abroad, or died. It is a longwhile ago, and he don't remember. 

Is nothing as it used to be; does no one feel, or think, or act, asin days of yore? Yes. There is an aged woman who once livedservant with the old lady's father, and is sheltered in an alms-house not far off. She is still attached to the family, and lovesthem all; she nursed the children in her lap, and tended in theirsickness those who are no more. Her old mistress has stillsomething of youth in her eyes; the young ladies are like what shewas but not quite so handsome, nor are the gentlemen as stately asMr. Harvey used to be. She has seen a great deal of trouble; herhusband and her son died long ago; but she has got over that, andis happy now--quite happy. 

If ever her attachment to her old protectors were disturbed byfresher cares and hopes, it has long since resumed its formercurrent. It has filled the void in the poor creature's heart, andreplaced the love of kindred. Death has not left her alone, andthis, with a roof above her head, and a warm hearth to sit by, makes her cheerful and contented. Does she remember the marriageof great-grandmamma? Ay, that she does, as well--as if it was onlyyesterday. You wouldn't think it to look at her now, and perhapsshe ought not to say so of herself, but she was as smart a younggirl then as you'd wish to see. She recollects she took a friendof hers up-stairs to see Miss Emma dressed for church; her namewas--ah! she forgets the name, but she remembers that she was avery pretty girl, and that she married not long afterwards, andlived--it has quite passed out of her mind where she lived, but sheknows she had a bad husband who used her ill, and that she died inLambeth work-house. Dear, dear, in Lambeth workhouse!

And the old couple--have they no comfort or enjoyment of existence?See them among their grandchildren and great-grandchildren; howgarrulous they are, how they compare one with another, and insiston likenesses which no one else can see; how gently the old ladylectures the girls on points of breeding and decorum, and pointsthe moral by anecdotes of herself in her young days--how the oldgentleman chuckles over boyish feats and roguish tricks, and tellslong stories of a 'barring-out' achieved at the school he went to:which was very wrong, he tells the boys, and never to be imitatedof course, but which he cannot help letting them know was verypleasant too--especially when he kissed the master's niece. Thislast, however, is a point on which the old lady is very tender, forshe considers it a shocking and indelicate thing to talk about, andalways says so whenever it is mentioned, never failing to observethat he ought to be very penitent for having been so sinful. Sothe old gentleman gets no further, and what the schoolmaster'sniece said afterwards (which he is always going to tell) is lost toposterity. 

The old gentleman is eighty years old, to-day--'Eighty years old, Crofts, and never had a headache, ' he tells the barber who shaveshim (the barber being a young fellow, and very subject to thatcomplaint). 'That's a great age, Crofts, ' says the old gentleman. 'I don't think it's sich a wery great age, Sir, ' replied thebarber. 'Crofts, ' rejoins the old gentleman, 'you're talkingnonsense to me. Eighty not a great age?' 'It's a wery great age, Sir, for a gentleman to be as healthy and active as you are, 'returns the barber; 'but my grandfather, Sir, he was ninety-four. ''You don't mean that, Crofts?' says the old gentleman. 'I doindeed, Sir, ' retorts the barber, 'and as wiggerous as JuliusCaesar, my grandfather was. ' The old gentleman muses a littletime, and then says, 'What did he die of, Crofts?' 'He diedaccidentally, Sir, ' returns the barber; 'he didn't mean to do it. He always would go a running about the streets--walking neversatisfied HIS spirit--and he run against a post and died of a hurtin his chest. ' The old gentleman says no more until the shaving isconcluded, and then he gives Crofts half-a-crown to drink hishealth. He is a little doubtful of the barber's veracityafterwards, and telling the anecdote to the old lady, affects tomake very light of it--though to be sure (he adds) there was oldParr, and in some parts of England, ninety-five or so is a commonage, quite a common age. 

This morning the old couple are cheerful but serious, recalling oldtimes as well as they can remember them, and dwelling upon manypassages in their past lives which the day brings to mind. The oldlady reads aloud, in a tremulous voice, out of a great Bible, andthe old gentleman with his hand to his ear, listens with profoundrespect. When the book is closed, they sit silent for a shortspace, and afterwards resume their conversation, with a referenceperhaps to their dead children, as a subject not unsuited to thatthey have just left. By degrees they are led to consider which ofthose who survive are the most like those dearly-rememberedobjects, and so they fall into a less solemn strain, and becomecheerful again. 

How many people in all, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and oneor two intimate friends of the family, dine together to-day at theeldest son's to congratulate the old couple, and wish them manyhappy returns, is a calculation beyond our powers; but this weknow, that the old couple no sooner present themselves, verysprucely and carefully attired, than there is a violent shoutingand rushing forward of the younger branches with all manner ofpresents, such as pocket-books, pencil-cases, pen-wipers, watch-papers, pin-cushions, sleeve-buckles, worked-slippers, watch-guards, and even a nutmeg-grater: the latter article beingpresented by a very chubby and very little boy, who exhibits it ingreat triumph as an extraordinary variety. The old couple'semotion at these tokens of remembrance occasions quite a patheticscene, of which the chief ingredients are a vast quantity ofkissing and hugging, and repeated wipings of small eyes and noseswith small square pocket-handkerchiefs, which don't come at alleasily out of small pockets. Even the peevish bachelor is moved, and he says, as he presents the old gentleman with a queer sort ofantique ring from his own finger, that he'll be de'ed if he doesn'tthink he looks younger than he did ten years ago. 

But the great time is after dinner, when the dessert and wine areon the table, which is pushed back to make plenty of room, and theyare all gathered in a large circle round the fire, for it is then--the glasses being filled, and everybody ready to drink the toast--that two great-grandchildren rush out at a given signal, andpresently return, dragging in old Jane Adams leaning upon hercrutched stick, and trembling with age and pleasure. Who sopopular as poor old Jane, nurse and story-teller in ordinary to twogenerations; and who so happy as she, striving to bend her stifflimbs into a curtsey, while tears of pleasure steal down herwithered cheeks!

The old couple sit side by side, and the old time seems likeyesterday indeed. Looking back upon the path they have travelled, its dust and ashes disappear; the flowers that withered long ago, show brightly again upon its borders, and they grow young once morein the youth of those about them. 

CONCLUSION

We have taken for the subjects of the foregoing moral essays, twelve samples of married couples, carefully selected from a largestock on hand, open to the inspection of all comers. These samplesare intended for the benefit of the rising generation of bothsexes, and, for their more easy and pleasant information, have beenseparately ticketed and labelled in the manner they have seen. 

We have purposely excluded from consideration the couple in whichthe lady reigns paramount and supreme, holding such cases to be ofa very unnatural kind, and like hideous births and other monstrousdeformities, only to be discreetly and sparingly exhibited. 

And here our self-imposed task would have ended, but that to thoseyoung ladies and gentlemen who are yet revolving singly round thechurch, awaiting the advent of that time when the mysterious lawsof attraction shall draw them towards it in couples, we aredesirous of addressing a few last words. 

Before marriage and afterwards, let them learn to centre all theirhopes of real and lasting happiness in their own fireside; let themcherish the faith that in home, and all the English virtues whichthe love of home engenders, lies the only true source of domesticfelicity; let them believe that round the household gods, contentment and tranquillity cluster in their gentlest and mostgraceful forms; and that many weary hunters of happiness throughthe noisy world, have learnt this truth too late, and found acheerful spirit and a quiet mind only at home at last. 

How much may depend on the education of daughters and the conductof mothers; how much of the brightest part of our old nationalcharacter may be perpetuated by their wisdom or frittered away bytheir folly--how much of it may have been lost already, and howmuch more in danger of vanishing every day--are questions tooweighty for discussion here, but well deserving a little seriousconsideration from all young couples nevertheless. 

To that one young couple on whose bright destiny the thoughts ofnations are fixed, may the youth of England look, and not in vain, for an example. From that one young couple, blessed and favouredas they are, may they learn that even the glare and glitter of acourt, the splendour of a palace, and the pomp and glory of athrone, yield in their power of conferring happiness, to domesticworth and virtue. From that one young couple may they learn thatthe crown of a great empire, costly and jewelled though it be, gives place in the estimation of a Queen to the plain gold ringthat links her woman's nature to that of tens of thousands of herhumble subjects, and guards in her woman's heart one secret storeof tenderness, whose proudest boast shall be that it knows noRoyalty save Nature's own, and no pride of birth but being thechild of heaven!

So shall the highest young couple in the land for once hear thetruth, when men throw up their caps, and cry with loving shouts -

GOD BLESS THEM. 

THE MUDFOG AND OTHER SKETCHES

PUBLIC LIFE OF MR. TULRUMBLE--ONCE MAYOR OF MUDFOG

Mudfog is a pleasant town--a remarkably pleasant town--situated ina charming hollow by the side of a river, from which river, Mudfogderives an agreeable scent of pitch, tar, coals, and rope-yarn, aroving population in oilskin hats, a pretty steady influx ofdrunken bargemen, and a great many other maritime advantages. There is a good deal of water about Mudfog, and yet it is notexactly the sort of town for a watering-place, either. Water is aperverse sort of element at the best of times, and in Mudfog it isparticularly so. In winter, it comes oozing down the streets andtumbling over the fields, --nay, rushes into the very cellars andkitchens of the houses, with a lavish prodigality that might wellbe dispensed with; but in the hot summer weather it WILL dry up, and turn green: and, although green is a very good colour in itsway, especially in grass, still it certainly is not becoming towater; and it cannot be denied that the beauty of Mudfog is ratherimpaired, even by this trifling circumstance. Mudfog is a healthyplace--very healthy;--damp, perhaps, but none the worse for that. It's quite a mistake to suppose that damp is unwholesome: plantsthrive best in damp situations, and why shouldn't men? Theinhabitants of Mudfog are unanimous in asserting that there existsnot a finer race of people on the face of the earth; here we havean indisputable and veracious contradiction of the vulgar error atonce. So, admitting Mudfog to be damp, we distinctly state that itis salubrious. 

The town of Mudfog is extremely picturesque. Limehouse andRatcliff Highway are both something like it, but they give you avery faint idea of Mudfog. There are a great many more public-houses in Mudfog--more than in Ratcliff Highway and Limehouse puttogether. The public buildings, too, are very imposing. Weconsider the town-hall one of the finest specimens of shedarchitecture, extant: it is a combination of the pig-sty and tea-garden-box orders; and the simplicity of its design is ofsurpassing beauty. The idea of placing a large window on one sideof the door, and a small one on the other, is particularly happy. There is a fine old Doric beauty, too, about the padlock andscraper, which is strictly in keeping with the general effect. 

In this room do the mayor and corporation of Mudfog assembletogether in solemn council for the public weal. Seated on themassive wooden benches, which, with the table in the centre, formthe only furniture of the whitewashed apartment, the sage men ofMudfog spend hour after hour in grave deliberation. Here theysettle at what hour of the night the public-houses shall be closed, at what hour of the morning they shall be permitted to open, howsoon it shall be lawful for people to eat their dinner on church-days, and other great political questions; and sometimes, longafter silence has fallen on the town, and the distant lights fromthe shops and houses have ceased to twinkle, like far-off stars, tothe sight of the boatmen on the river, the illumination in the twounequal-sized windows of the town-hall, warns the inhabitants ofMudfog that its little body of legislators, like a larger andbetter-known body of the same genus, a great deal more noisy, andnot a whit more profound, are patriotically dozing away in company, far into the night, for their country's good. 

Among this knot of sage and learned men, no one was so eminentlydistinguished, during many years, for the quiet modesty of hisappearance and demeanour, as Nicholas Tulrumble, the well-knowncoal-dealer. However exciting the subject of discussion, howeveranimated the tone of the debate, or however warm the personalitiesexchanged, (and even in Mudfog we get personal sometimes, ) NicholasTulrumble was always the same. To say truth, Nicholas, being anindustrious man, and always up betimes, was apt to fall asleep whena debate began, and to remain asleep till it was over, when hewould wake up very much refreshed, and give his vote with thegreatest complacency. The fact was, that Nicholas Tulrumble, knowing that everybody there had made up his mind beforehand, considered the talking as just a long botheration about nothing atall; and to the present hour it remains a question, whether, onthis point at all events, Nicholas Tulrumble was not pretty nearright. 

Time, which strews a man's head with silver, sometimes fills hispockets with gold. As he gradually performed one good office forNicholas Tulrumble, he was obliging enough, not to omit the other. Nicholas began life in a wooden tenement of four feet square, witha capital of two and ninepence, and a stock in trade of threebushels and a-half of coals, exclusive of the large lump whichhung, by way of sign-board, outside. Then he enlarged the shed, and kept a truck; then he left the shed, and the truck too, andstarted a donkey and a Mrs. Tulrumble; then he moved again and setup a cart; the cart was soon afterwards exchanged for a waggon; andso he went on like his great predecessor Whittington--only withouta cat for a partner--increasing in wealth and fame, until at lasthe gave up business altogether, and retired with Mrs. Tulrumble andfamily to Mudfog Hall, which he had himself erected, on somethingwhich he attempted to delude himself into the belief was a hill, about a quarter of a mile distant from the town of Mudfog. 

About this time, it began to be murmured in Mudfog that NicholasTulrumble was growing vain and haughty; that prosperity and successhad corrupted the simplicity of his manners, and tainted thenatural goodness of his heart; in short, that he was setting up fora public character, and a great gentleman, and affected to lookdown upon his old companions with compassion and contempt. Whetherthese reports were at the time well-founded, or not, certain it isthat Mrs. Tulrumble very shortly afterwards started a four-wheelchaise, driven by a tall postilion in a yellow cap, --that Mr. Tulrumble junior took to smoking cigars, and calling the footman a'feller, '--and that Mr. Tulrumble from that time forth, was no moreseen in his old seat in the chimney-corner of the Lighterman's Armsat night. This looked bad; but, more than this, it began to beobserved that Mr. Nicholas Tulrumble attended the corporationmeetings more frequently than heretofore; and he no longer went tosleep as he had done for so many years, but propped his eyelidsopen with his two forefingers; that he read the newspapers byhimself at home; and that he was in the habit of indulging abroadin distant and mysterious allusions to 'masses of people, ' and 'theproperty of the country, ' and 'productive power, ' and 'the moniedinterest:' all of which denoted and proved that Nicholas Tulrumblewas either mad, or worse; and it puzzled the good people of Mudfogamazingly. 

At length, about the middle of the month of October, Mr. Tulrumbleand family went up to London; the middle of October being, as Mrs. Tulrumble informed her acquaintance in Mudfog, the very height ofthe fashionable season. 

Somehow or other, just about this time, despite the health-preserving air of Mudfog, the Mayor died. It was a mostextraordinary circumstance; he had lived in Mudfog for eighty-fiveyears. The corporation didn't understand it at all; indeed it waswith great difficulty that one old gentleman, who was a greatstickler for forms, was dissuaded from proposing a vote of censureon such unaccountable conduct. Strange as it was, however, die hedid, without taking the slightest notice of the corporation; andthe corporation were imperatively called upon to elect hissuccessor. So, they met for the purpose; and being very full ofNicholas Tulrumble just then, and Nicholas Tulrumble being a veryimportant man, they elected him, and wrote off to London by thevery next post to acquaint Nicholas Tulrumble with his newelevation. 

Now, it being November time, and Mr. Nicholas Tulrumble being inthe capital, it fell out that he was present at the Lord Mayor'sshow and dinner, at sight of the glory and splendour whereof, he, Mr. Tulrumble, was greatly mortified, inasmuch as the reflectionwould force itself on his mind, that, had he been born in Londoninstead of in Mudfog, he might have been a Lord Mayor too, and havepatronized the judges, and been affable to the Lord Chancellor, andfriendly with the Premier, and coldly condescending to theSecretary to the Treasury, and have dined with a flag behind hisback, and done a great many other acts and deeds which unto LordMayors of London peculiarly appertain. The more he thought of theLord Mayor, the more enviable a personage he seemed. To be a Kingwas all very well; but what was the King to the Lord Mayor! Whenthe King made a speech, everybody knew it was somebody else'swriting; whereas here was the Lord Mayor, talking away for half anhour-all out of his own head--amidst the enthusiastic applause ofthe whole company, while it was notorious that the King might talkto his parliament till he was black in the face without getting somuch as a single cheer. As all these reflections passed throughthe mind of Mr. Nicholas Tulrumble, the Lord Mayor of Londonappeared to him the greatest sovereign on the face of the earth, beating the Emperor of Russia all to nothing, and leaving the GreatMogul immeasurably behind. 

Mr. Nicholas Tulrumble was pondering over these things, andinwardly cursing the fate which had pitched his coal-shed inMudfog, when the letter of the corporation was put into his hand. A crimson flush mantled over his face as he read it, for visions ofbrightness were already dancing before his imagination. 

'My dear, ' said Mr. Tulrumble to his wife, 'they have elected me, Mayor of Mudfog. '

'Lor-a-mussy!' said Mrs. Tulrumble: 'why what's become of oldSniggs?'

'The late Mr. Sniggs, Mrs. Tulrumble, ' said Mr. Tulrumble sharply, for he by no means approved of the notion of unceremoniouslydesignating a gentleman who filled the high office of Mayor, as'Old Sniggs, '--'The late Mr. Sniggs, Mrs. Tulrumble, is dead. '

The communication was very unexpected; but Mrs. Tulrumble onlyejaculated 'Lor-a-mussy!' once again, as if a Mayor were a mereordinary Christian, at which Mr. Tulrumble frowned gloomily. 

'What a pity 'tan't in London, ain't it?' said Mrs. Tulrumble, after a short pause; 'what a pity 'tan't in London, where you mighthave had a show. '

'I MIGHT have a show in Mudfog, if I thought proper, I apprehend, 'said Mr. Tulrumble mysteriously. 

'Lor! so you might, I declare, ' replied Mrs. Tulrumble. 

'And a good one too, ' said Mr. Tulrumble. 

'Delightful!' exclaimed Mrs. Tulrumble. 

'One which would rather astonish the ignorant people down there, 'said Mr. Tulrumble. 

'It would kill them with envy, ' said Mrs. Tulrumble. 

So it was agreed that his Majesty's lieges in Mudfog should beastonished with splendour, and slaughtered with envy, and that sucha show should take place as had never been seen in that town, or inany other town before, --no, not even in London itself. 

On the very next day after the receipt of the letter, down came thetall postilion in a post-chaise, --not upon one of the horses, butinside--actually inside the chaise, --and, driving up to the verydoor of the town-hall, where the corporation were assembled, delivered a letter, written by the Lord knows who, and signed byNicholas Tulrumble, in which Nicholas said, all through four sidesof closely-written, gilt-edged, hot-pressed, Bath post letterpaper, that he responded to the call of his fellow-townsmen withfeelings of heartfelt delight; that he accepted the arduous officewhich their confidence had imposed upon him; that they would neverfind him shrinking from the discharge of his duty; that he wouldendeavour to execute his functions with all that dignity whichtheir magnitude and importance demanded; and a great deal more tothe same effect. But even this was not all. The tall postilionproduced from his right-hand top-boot, a damp copy of thatafternoon's number of the county paper; and there, in large type, running the whole length of the very first column, was a longaddress from Nicholas Tulrumble to the inhabitants of Mudfog, inwhich he said that he cheerfully complied with their requisition, and, in short, as if to prevent any mistake about the matter, toldthem over again what a grand fellow he meant to be, in very muchthe same terms as those in which he had already told them all aboutthe matter in his letter. 

The corporation stared at one another very hard at all this, andthen looked as if for explanation to the tall postilion, but as thetall postilion was intently contemplating the gold tassel on thetop of his yellow cap, and could have afforded no explanationwhatever, even if his thoughts had been entirely disengaged, theycontented themselves with coughing very dubiously, and looking verygrave. The tall postilion then delivered another letter, in whichNicholas Tulrumble informed the corporation, that he intendedrepairing to the town-hall, in grand state and gorgeous procession, on the Monday afternoon next ensuing. At this the corporationlooked still more solemn; but, as the epistle wound up with aformal invitation to the whole body to dine with the Mayor on thatday, at Mudfog Hall, Mudfog Hill, Mudfog, they began to see the funof the thing directly, and sent back their compliments, and they'dbe sure to come. 

Now there happened to be in Mudfog, as somehow or other there doeshappen to be, in almost every town in the British dominions, andperhaps in foreign dominions too--we think it very likely, but, being no great traveller, cannot distinctly say--there happened tobe, in Mudfog, a merry-tempered, pleasant-faced, good-for-nothingsort of vagabond, with an invincible dislike to manual labour, andan unconquerable attachment to strong beer and spirits, whomeverybody knew, and nobody, except his wife, took the trouble toquarrel with, who inherited from his ancestors the appellation ofEdward Twigger, and rejoiced in the sobriquet of Bottle-nosed Ned. He was drunk upon the average once a day, and penitent upon anequally fair calculation once a month; and when he was penitent, hewas invariably in the very last stage of maudlin intoxication. Hewas a ragged, roving, roaring kind of fellow, with a burly form, asharp wit, and a ready head, and could turn his hand to anythingwhen he chose to do it. He was by no means opposed to hard labouron principle, for he would work away at a cricket-match by the daytogether, --running, and catching, and batting, and bowling, andrevelling in toil which would exhaust a galley-slave. He wouldhave been invaluable to a fire-office; never was a man with such anatural taste for pumping engines, running up ladders, and throwingfurniture out of two-pair-of-stairs' windows: nor was this theonly element in which he was at home; he was a humane society inhimself, a portable drag, an animated life-preserver, and had savedmore people, in his time, from drowning, than the Plymouth life-boat, or Captain Manby's apparatus. With all these qualifications, notwithstanding his dissipation, Bottle-nosed Ned was a generalfavourite; and the authorities of Mudfog, remembering his numerousservices to the population, allowed him in return to get drunk inhis own way, without the fear of stocks, fine, or imprisonment. Hehad a general licence, and he showed his sense of the compliment bymaking the most of it. 

We have been thus particular in describing the character andavocations of Bottle-nosed Ned, because it enables us to introducea fact politely, without hauling it into the reader's presence withindecent haste by the head and shoulders, and brings us verynaturally to relate, that on the very same evening on which Mr. Nicholas Tulrumble and family returned to Mudfog, Mr. Tulrumble'snew secretary, just imported from London, with a pale face andlight whiskers, thrust his head down to the very bottom of hisneckcloth-tie, in at the tap-room door of the Lighterman's Arms, and inquiring whether one Ned Twigger was luxuriating within, announced himself as the bearer of a message from NicholasTulrumble, Esquire, requiring Mr. Twigger's immediate attendance atthe hall, on private and particular business. It being by no meansMr. Twigger's interest to affront the Mayor, he rose from thefireplace with a slight sigh, and followed the light-whiskeredsecretary through the dirt and wet of Mudfog streets, up to MudfogHall, without further ado. 

Mr. Nicholas Tulrumble was seated in a small cavern with askylight, which he called his library, sketching out a plan of theprocession on a large sheet of paper; and into the cavern thesecretary ushered Ned Twigger. 

'Well, Twigger!' said Nicholas Tulrumble, condescendingly. 

There was a time when Twigger would have replied, 'Well, Nick!' butthat was in the days of the truck, and a couple of years before thedonkey; so, he only bowed. 

'I want you to go into training, Twigger, ' said Mr. Tulrumble. 

'What for, sir?' inquired Ned, with a stare. 

'Hush, hush, Twigger!' said the Mayor. 'Shut the door, Mr. Jennings. Look here, Twigger. '

As the Mayor said this, he unlocked a high closet, and disclosed acomplete suit of brass armour, of gigantic dimensions. 

'I want you to wear this next Monday, Twigger, ' said the Mayor. 

'Bless your heart and soul, sir!' replied Ned, 'you might as wellask me to wear a seventy-four pounder, or a cast-iron boiler. '

'Nonsense, Twigger, nonsense!' said the Mayor. 

'I couldn't stand under it, sir, ' said Twigger; 'it would makemashed potatoes of me, if I attempted it. '

'Pooh, pooh, Twigger!' returned the Mayor. 'I tell you I have seenit done with my own eyes, in London, and the man wasn't half such aman as you are, either. '

'I should as soon have thought of a man's wearing the case of aneight-day clock to save his linen, ' said Twigger, casting a look ofapprehension at the brass suit. 

'It's the easiest thing in the world, ' rejoined the Mayor. 

'It's nothing, ' said Mr. Jennings. 

'When you're used to it, ' added Ned. 

'You do it by degrees, ' said the Mayor. 'You would begin with onepiece to-morrow, and two the next day, and so on, till you had gotit all on. Mr. Jennings, give Twigger a glass of rum. Just trythe breast-plate, Twigger. Stay; take another glass of rum first. Help me to lift it, Mr. Jennings. Stand firm, Twigger! There!--itisn't half as heavy as it looks, is it?'

Twigger was a good strong, stout fellow; so, after a great deal ofstaggering, he managed to keep himself up, under the breastplate, and even contrived, with the aid of another glass of rum, to walkabout in it, and the gauntlets into the bargain. He made a trialof the helmet, but was not equally successful, inasmuch as hetipped over instantly, --an accident which Mr. Tulrumble clearlydemonstrated to be occasioned by his not having a counteractingweight of brass on his legs. 

'Now, wear that with grace and propriety on Monday next, ' saidTulrumble, 'and I'll make your fortune. '

'I'll try what I can do, sir, ' said Twigger. 

'It must be kept a profound secret, ' said Tulrumble. 

'Of course, sir, ' replied Twigger. 

'And you must be sober, ' said Tulrumble; 'perfectly sober. ' Mr. Twigger at once solemnly pledged himself to be as sober as a judge, and Nicholas Tulrumble was satisfied, although, had we beenNicholas, we should certainly have exacted some promise of a morespecific nature; inasmuch as, having attended the Mudfog assizes inthe evening more than once, we can solemnly testify to having seenjudges with very strong symptoms of dinner under their wigs. However, that's neither here nor there. 

The next day, and the day following, and the day after that, NedTwigger was securely locked up in the small cavern with the sky-light, hard at work at the armour. With every additional piece hecould manage to stand upright in, he had an additional glass ofrum; and at last, after many partial suffocations, he contrived toget on the whole suit, and to stagger up and down the room in it, like an intoxicated effigy from Westminster Abbey. 

Never was man so delighted as Nicholas Tulrumble; never was womanso charmed as Nicholas Tulrumble's wife. Here was a sight for thecommon people of Mudfog! A live man in brass armour! Why, theywould go wild with wonder!

The day--THE Monday--arrived. 

If the morning had been made to order, it couldn't have been betteradapted to the purpose. They never showed a better fog in Londonon Lord Mayor's day, than enwrapped the town of Mudfog on thateventful occasion. It had risen slowly and surely from the greenand stagnant water with the first light of morning, until itreached a little above the lamp-post tops; and there it hadstopped, with a sleepy, sluggish obstinacy, which bade defiance tothe sun, who had got up very blood-shot about the eyes, as if hehad been at a drinking-party over-night, and was doing his day'swork with the worst possible grace. The thick damp mist hung overthe town like a huge gauze curtain. All was dim and dismal. Thechurch steeples had bidden a temporary adieu to the world below;and every object of lesser importance--houses, barns, hedges, trees, and barges--had all taken the veil. 

The church-clock struck one. A cracked trumpet from the frontgarden of Mudfog Hall produced a feeble flourish, as if someasthmatic person had coughed into it accidentally; the gate flewopen, and out came a gentleman, on a moist-sugar coloured charger, intended to represent a herald, but bearing a much strongerresemblance to a court-card on horseback. This was one of theCircus people, who always came down to Mudfog at that time of theyear, and who had been engaged by Nicholas Tulrumble expressly forthe occasion. There was the horse, whisking his tail about, balancing himself on his hind-legs, and flourishing away with hisfore-feet, in a manner which would have gone to the hearts andsouls of any reasonable crowd. But a Mudfog crowd never was areasonable one, and in all probability never will be. Instead ofscattering the very fog with their shouts, as they ought mostindubitably to have done, and were fully intended to do, byNicholas Tulrumble, they no sooner recognized the herald, than theybegan to growl forth the most unqualified disapprobation at thebare notion of his riding like any other man. If he had come outon his head indeed, or jumping through a hoop, or flying through ared-hot drum, or even standing on one leg with his other foot inhis mouth, they might have had something to say to him; but for aprofessional gentleman to sit astride in the saddle, with his feetin the stirrups, was rather too good a joke. So, the herald was adecided failure, and the crowd hooted with great energy, as hepranced ingloriously away. 

On the procession came. We are afraid to say how manysupernumeraries there were, in striped shirts and black velvetcaps, to imitate the London watermen, or how many base imitationsof running-footmen, or how many banners, which, owing to theheaviness of the atmosphere, could by no means be prevailed on todisplay their inscriptions: still less do we feel disposed torelate how the men who played the wind instruments, looking up intothe sky (we mean the fog) with musical fervour, walked throughpools of water and hillocks of mud, till they covered the powderedheads of the running-footmen aforesaid with splashes, that lookedcurious, but not ornamental; or how the barrel-organ performer puton the wrong stop, and played one tune while the band playedanother; or how the horses, being used to the arena, and not to thestreets, would stand still and dance, instead of going on andprancing;--all of which are matters which might be dilated upon togreat advantage, but which we have not the least intention ofdilating upon, notwithstanding. 

Oh! it was a grand and beautiful sight to behold a corporation inglass coaches, provided at the sole cost and charge of NicholasTulrumble, coming rolling along, like a funeral out of mourning, and to watch the attempts the corporation made to look great andsolemn, when Nicholas Tulrumble himself, in the four-wheel chaise, with the tall postilion, rolled out after them, with Mr. Jenningson one side to look like a chaplain, and a supernumerary on theother, with an old life-guardsman's sabre, to imitate the sword-bearer; and to see the tears rolling down the faces of the mob asthey screamed with merriment. This was beautiful! and so was theappearance of Mrs. Tulrumble and son, as they bowed with gravedignity out of their coach-window to all the dirty faces that werelaughing around them: but it is not even with this that we have todo, but with the sudden stopping of the procession at another blastof the trumpet, whereat, and whereupon, a profound silence ensued, and all eyes were turned towards Mudfog Hall, in the confidentanticipation of some new wonder. 

'They won't laugh now, Mr. Jennings, ' said Nicholas Tulrumble. 

'I think not, sir, ' said Mr. Jennings. 

'See how eager they look, ' said Nicholas Tulrumble. 'Aha! thelaugh will be on our side now; eh, Mr. Jennings?'

'No doubt of that, sir, ' replied Mr. Jennings; and NicholasTulrumble, in a state of pleasurable excitement, stood up in thefour-wheel chaise, and telegraphed gratification to the Mayoressbehind. 

While all this was going forward, Ned Twigger had descended intothe kitchen of Mudfog Hall for the purpose of indulging theservants with a private view of the curiosity that was to burstupon the town; and, somehow or other, the footman was socompanionable, and the housemaid so kind, and the cook so friendly, that he could not resist the offer of the first-mentioned to sitdown and take something--just to drink success to master in. 

So, down Ned Twigger sat himself in his brass livery on the top ofthe kitchen-table; and in a mug of something strong, paid for bythe unconscious Nicholas Tulrumble, and provided by thecompanionable footman, drank success to the Mayor and hisprocession; and, as Ned laid by his helmet to imbibe the somethingstrong, the companionable footman put it on his own head, to theimmeasurable and unrecordable delight of the cook and housemaid. The companionable footman was very facetious to Ned, and Ned wasvery gallant to the cook and housemaid by turns. They were allvery cosy and comfortable; and the something strong went brisklyround. 

At last Ned Twigger was loudly called for, by the processionpeople: and, having had his helmet fixed on, in a very complicatedmanner, by the companionable footman, and the kind housemaid, andthe friendly cook, he walked gravely forth, and appeared before themultitude. 

The crowd roared--it was not with wonder, it was not with surprise;it was most decidedly and unquestionably with laughter. 

'What!' said Mr. Tulrumble, starting up in the four-wheel chaise. 'Laughing? If they laugh at a man in real brass armour, they'dlaugh when their own fathers were dying. Why doesn't he go intohis place, Mr. Jennings? What's he rolling down towards us for? hehas no business here!'

'I am afraid, sir--' faltered Mr. Jennings. 

'Afraid of what, sir?' said Nicholas Tulrumble, looking up into thesecretary's face. 

'I am afraid he's drunk, sir, ' replied Mr. Jennings. 

Nicholas Tulrumble took one look at the extraordinary figure thatwas bearing down upon them; and then, clasping his secretary by thearm, uttered an audible groan in anguish of spirit. 

It is a melancholy fact that Mr. Twigger having full licence todemand a single glass of rum on the putting on of every piece ofthe armour, got, by some means or other, rather out of hiscalculation in the hurry and confusion of preparation, and drankabout four glasses to a piece instead of one, not to mention thesomething strong which went on the top of it. Whether the brassarmour checked the natural flow of perspiration, and thus preventedthe spirit from evaporating, we are not scientific enough to know;but, whatever the cause was, Mr. Twigger no sooner found himselfoutside the gate of Mudfog Hall, than he also found himself in avery considerable state of intoxication; and hence hisextraordinary style of progressing. This was bad enough, but, asif fate and fortune had conspired against Nicholas Tulrumble, Mr. Twigger, not having been penitent for a good calendar month, tookit into his head to be most especially and particularlysentimental, just when his repentance could have been mostconveniently dispensed with. Immense tears were rolling down hischeeks, and he was vainly endeavouring to conceal his grief byapplying to his eyes a blue cotton pocket-handkerchief with whitespots, --an article not strictly in keeping with a suit of armoursome three hundred years old, or thereabouts. 

'Twigger, you villain!' said Nicholas Tulrumble, quite forgettinghis dignity, 'go back. '

'Never, ' said Ned. 'I'm a miserable wretch. I'll never leaveyou. '

The by-standers of course received this declaration withacclamations of 'That's right, Ned; don't!'

'I don't intend it, ' said Ned, with all the obstinacy of a verytipsy man. 'I'm very unhappy. I'm the wretched father of anunfortunate family; but I am very faithful, sir. I'll never leaveyou. ' Having reiterated this obliging promise, Ned proceeded inbroken words to harangue the crowd upon the number of years he hadlived in Mudfog, the excessive respectability of his character, andother topics of the like nature. 

'Here! will anybody lead him away?' said Nicholas: 'if they'llcall on me afterwards, I'll reward them well. '

Two or three men stepped forward, with the view of bearing Ned off, when the secretary interposed. 

'Take care! take care!' said Mr. Jennings. 'I beg your pardon, sir; but they'd better not go too near him, because, if he fallsover, he'll certainly crush somebody. '

At this hint the crowd retired on all sides to a very respectfuldistance, and left Ned, like the Duke of Devonshire, in a littlecircle of his own. 

'But, Mr. Jennings, ' said Nicholas Tulrumble, 'he'll besuffocated. '

'I'm very sorry for it, sir, ' replied Mr. Jennings; 'but nobody canget that armour off, without his own assistance. I'm quite certainof it from the way he put it on. '

Here Ned wept dolefully, and shook his helmeted head, in a mannerthat might have touched a heart of stone; but the crowd had nothearts of stone, and they laughed heartily. 

'Dear me, Mr. Jennings, ' said Nicholas, turning pale at thepossibility of Ned's being smothered in his antique costume--'Dearme, Mr. Jennings, can nothing be done with him?'

'Nothing at all, ' replied Ned, 'nothing at all. Gentlemen, I'm anunhappy wretch. I'm a body, gentlemen, in a brass coffin. ' Atthis poetical idea of his own conjuring up, Ned cried so much thatthe people began to get sympathetic, and to ask what NicholasTulrumble meant by putting a man into such a machine as that; andone individual in a hairy waistcoat like the top of a trunk, whohad previously expressed his opinion that if Ned hadn't been a poorman, Nicholas wouldn't have dared do it, hinted at the propriety ofbreaking the four-wheel chaise, or Nicholas's head, or both, whichlast compound proposition the crowd seemed to consider a very goodnotion. 

It was not acted upon, however, for it had hardly been broached, when Ned Twigger's wife made her appearance abruptly in the littlecircle before noticed, and Ned no sooner caught a glimpse of herface and form, than from the mere force of habit he set off towardshis home just as fast as his legs could carry him; and that was notvery quick in the present instance either, for, however ready theymight have been to carry HIM, they couldn't get on very well underthe brass armour. So, Mrs. Twigger had plenty of time to denounceNicholas Tulrumble to his face: to express her opinion that he wasa decided monster; and to intimate that, if her ill-used husbandsustained any personal damage from the brass armour, she would havethe law of Nicholas Tulrumble for manslaughter. When she had saidall this with due vehemence, she posted after Ned, who was dragginghimself along as best he could, and deploring his unhappiness inmost dismal tones. 

What a wailing and screaming Ned's children raised when he got homeat last! Mrs. Twigger tried to undo the armour, first in oneplace, and then in another, but she couldn't manage it; so shetumbled Ned into bed, helmet, armour, gauntlets, and all. Such acreaking as the bedstead made, under Ned's weight in his new suit!It didn't break down though; and there Ned lay, like the anonymousvessel in the Bay of Biscay, till next day, drinking barley-water, and looking miserable: and every time he groaned, his good ladysaid it served him right, which was all the consolation Ned Twiggergot. 

Nicholas Tulrumble and the gorgeous procession went on together tothe town-hall, amid the hisses and groans of all the spectators, who had suddenly taken it into their heads to consider poor Ned amartyr. Nicholas was formally installed in his new office, inacknowledgment of which ceremony he delivered himself of a speech, composed by the secretary, which was very long, and no doubt verygood, only the noise of the people outside prevented anybody fromhearing it, but Nicholas Tulrumble himself. After which, theprocession got back to Mudfog Hall any how it could; and Nicholasand the corporation sat down to dinner. 

But the dinner was flat, and Nicholas was disappointed. They weresuch dull sleepy old fellows, that corporation. Nicholas madequite as long speeches as the Lord Mayor of London had done, nay, he said the very same things that the Lord Mayor of London hadsaid, and the deuce a cheer the corporation gave him. There wasonly one man in the party who was thoroughly awake; and he wasinsolent, and called him Nick. Nick! What would be theconsequence, thought Nicholas, of anybody presuming to call theLord Mayor of London 'Nick!' He should like to know what thesword-bearer would say to that; or the recorder, or the toast-master, or any other of the great officers of the city. They'dnick him. 

But these were not the worst of Nicholas Tulrumble's doings. Ifthey had been, he might have remained a Mayor to this day, and havetalked till he lost his voice. He contracted a relish forstatistics, and got philosophical; and the statistics and thephilosophy together, led him into an act which increased hisunpopularity and hastened his downfall. 

At the very end of the Mudfog High-street, and abutting on theriver-side, stands the Jolly Boatmen, an old-fashioned low-roofed, bay-windowed house, with a bar, kitchen, and tap-room all in one, and a large fireplace with a kettle to correspond, round which theworking men have congregated time out of mind on a winter's night, refreshed by draughts of good strong beer, and cheered by thesounds of a fiddle and tambourine: the Jolly Boatmen having beenduly licensed by the Mayor and corporation, to scrape the fiddleand thumb the tambourine from time, whereof the memory of theoldest inhabitants goeth not to the contrary. Now NicholasTulrumble had been reading pamphlets on crime, and parliamentaryreports, --or had made the secretary read them to him, which is thesame thing in effect, --and he at once perceived that this fiddleand tambourine must have done more to demoralize Mudfog, than anyother operating causes that ingenuity could imagine. So he read upfor the subject, and determined to come out on the corporation witha burst, the very next time the licence was applied for. 

The licensing day came, and the red-faced landlord of the JollyBoatmen walked into the town-hall, looking as jolly as need be, having actually put on an extra fiddle for that night, tocommemorate the anniversary of the Jolly Boatmen's music licence. It was applied for in due form, and was just about to be granted asa matter of course, when up rose Nicholas Tulrumble, and drownedthe astonished corporation in a torrent of eloquence. He descantedin glowing terms upon the increasing depravity of his native townof Mudfog, and the excesses committed by its population. Then, herelated how shocked he had been, to see barrels of beer slidingdown into the cellar of the Jolly Boatmen week after week; and howhe had sat at a window opposite the Jolly Boatmen for two daystogether, to count the people who went in for beer between thehours of twelve and one o'clock alone--which, by-the-bye, was thetime at which the great majority of the Mudfog people dined. Then, he went on to state, how the number of people who came out withbeer-jugs, averaged twenty-one in five minutes, which, beingmultiplied by twelve, gave two hundred and fifty-two people withbeer-jugs in an hour, and multiplied again by fifteen (the numberof hours during which the house was open daily) yielded threethousand seven hundred and eighty people with beer-jugs per day, ortwenty-six thousand four hundred and sixty people with beer-jugs, per week. Then he proceeded to show that a tambourine and moraldegradation were synonymous terms, and a fiddle and viciouspropensities wholly inseparable. All these arguments hestrengthened and demonstrated by frequent references to a largebook with a blue cover, and sundry quotations from the Middlesexmagistrates; and in the end, the corporation, who were posed withthe figures, and sleepy with the speech, and sadly in want ofdinner into the bargain, yielded the palm to Nicholas Tulrumble, and refused the music licence to the Jolly Boatmen. 

But although Nicholas triumphed, his triumph was short. He carriedon the war against beer-jugs and fiddles, forgetting the time whenhe was glad to drink out of the one, and to dance to the other, till the people hated, and his old friends shunned him. He grewtired of the lonely magnificence of Mudfog Hall, and his heartyearned towards the Lighterman's Arms. He wished he had never setup as a public man, and sighed for the good old times of the coal-shop, and the chimney corner. 

At length old Nicholas, being thoroughly miserable, took heart ofgrace, paid the secretary a quarter's wages in advance, and packedhim off to London by the next coach. Having taken this step, heput his hat on his head, and his pride in his pocket, and walkeddown to the old room at the Lighterman's Arms. There were only twoof the old fellows there, and they looked coldly on Nicholas as heproffered his hand. 

'Are you going to put down pipes, Mr. Tulrumble?' said one. 

'Or trace the progress of crime to 'bacca?' growled another. 

'Neither, ' replied Nicholas Tulrumble, shaking hands with themboth, whether they would or not. 'I've come down to say that I'mvery sorry for having made a fool of myself, and that I hope you'llgive me up the old chair, again. '

The old fellows opened their eyes, and three or four more oldfellows opened the door, to whom Nicholas, with tears in his eyes, thrust out his hand too, and told the same story. They raised ashout of joy, that made the bells in the ancient church-towervibrate again, and wheeling the old chair into the warm corner, thrust old Nicholas down into it, and ordered in the very largest-sized bowl of hot punch, with an unlimited number of pipes, directly. 

The next day, the Jolly Boatmen got the licence, and the nextnight, old Nicholas and Ned Twigger's wife led off a dance to themusic of the fiddle and tambourine, the tone of which seemedmightily improved by a little rest, for they never had played somerrily before. Ned Twigger was in the very height of his glory, and he danced hornpipes, and balanced chairs on his chin, andstraws on his nose, till the whole company, including thecorporation, were in raptures of admiration at the brilliancy ofhis acquirements. 

Mr. Tulrumble, junior, couldn't make up his mind to be anything butmagnificent, so he went up to London and drew bills on his father;and when he had overdrawn, and got into debt, he grew penitent, andcame home again. 

As to old Nicholas, he kept his word, and having had six weeks ofpublic life, never tried it any more. He went to sleep in thetown-hall at the very next meeting; and, in full proof of hissincerity, has requested us to write this faithful narrative. Wewish it could have the effect of reminding the Tulrumbles ofanother sphere, that puffed-up conceit is not dignity, and thatsnarling at the little pleasures they were once glad to enjoy, because they would rather forget the times when they were of lowerstation, renders them objects of contempt and ridicule. 

This is the first time we have published any of our gleanings fromthis particular source. Perhaps, at some future period, we mayventure to open the chronicles of Mudfog. 

FULL REPORT OF THE FIRST MEETING OF THE MUDFOG ASSOCIATION FOR THEADVANCEMENT OF EVERYTHING

We have made the most unparalleled and extraordinary exertions toplace before our readers a complete and accurate account of theproceedings at the late grand meeting of the Mudfog Association, holden in the town of Mudfog; it affords us great happiness to laythe result before them, in the shape of various communicationsreceived from our able, talented, and graphic correspondent, expressly sent down for the purpose, who has immortalized us, himself, Mudfog, and the association, all at one and the same time. We have been, indeed, for some days unable to determine who willtransmit the greatest name to posterity; ourselves, who sent ourcorrespondent down; our correspondent, who wrote an account of thematter; or the association, who gave our correspondent something towrite about. We rather incline to the opinion that we are thegreatest man of the party, inasmuch as the notion of an exclusiveand authentic report originated with us; this may be prejudice: itmay arise from a prepossession on our part in our own favour. Beit so. We have no doubt that every gentleman concerned in thismighty assemblage is troubled with the same complaint in a greateror less degree; and it is a consolation to us to know that we haveat least this feeling in common with the great scientific stars, the brilliant and extraordinary luminaries, whose speculations werecord. 

We give our correspondent's letters in the order in which theyreached us. Any attempt at amalgamating them into one beautifulwhole, would only destroy that glowing tone, that dash of wildness, and rich vein of picturesque interest, which pervade themthroughout. 

'Mudfog, Monday night, seven o'clock. 

'We are in a state of great excitement here. Nothing is spoken of, but the approaching meeting of the association. The inn-doors arethronged with waiters anxiously looking for the expected arrivals;and the numerous bills which are wafered up in the windows ofprivate houses, intimating that there are beds to let within, givethe streets a very animated and cheerful appearance, the wafersbeing of a great variety of colours, and the monotony of printedinscriptions being relieved by every possible size and style ofhand-writing. It is confidently rumoured that Professors Snore, Doze, and Wheezy have engaged three beds and a sitting-room at thePig and Tinder-box. I give you the rumour as it has reached me;but I cannot, as yet, vouch for its accuracy. The moment I havebeen enabled to obtain any certain information upon thisinteresting point, you may depend upon receiving it. '

'Half-past seven. 

I have just returned from a personal interview with the landlord ofthe Pig and Tinder-box. He speaks confidently of the probabilityof Professors Snore, Doze, and Wheezy taking up their residence athis house during the sitting of the association, but denies thatthe beds have been yet engaged; in which representation he isconfirmed by the chambermaid--a girl of artless manners, andinteresting appearance. The boots denies that it is at all likelythat Professors Snore, Doze, and Wheezy will put up here; but Ihave reason to believe that this man has been suborned by theproprietor of the Original Pig, which is the opposition hotel. Amidst such conflicting testimony it is difficult to arrive at thereal truth; but you may depend upon receiving authentic informationupon this point the moment the fact is ascertained. The excitementstill continues. A boy fell through the window of the pastrycook'sshop at the corner of the High-street about half an hour ago, whichhas occasioned much confusion. The general impression is, that itwas an accident. Pray heaven it may prove so!'

'Tuesday, noon. 

'At an early hour this morning the bells of all the churches struckseven o'clock; the effect of which, in the present lively state ofthe town, was extremely singular. While I was at breakfast, ayellow gig, drawn by a dark grey horse, with a patch of white overhis right eyelid, proceeded at a rapid pace in the direction of theOriginal Pig stables; it is currently reported that this gentlemanhas arrived here for the purpose of attending the association, and, from what I have heard, I consider it extremely probable, althoughnothing decisive is yet known regarding him. You may conceive theanxiety with which we are all looking forward to the arrival of thefour o'clock coach this afternoon. 

'Notwithstanding the excited state of the populace, no outrage hasyet been committed, owing to the admirable discipline anddiscretion of the police, who are nowhere to be seen. A barrel-organ is playing opposite my window, and groups of people, offeringfish and vegetables for sale, parade the streets. With theseexceptions everything is quiet, and I trust will continue so. '

'Five o'clock. 

'It is now ascertained, beyond all doubt, that Professors Snore, Doze, and Wheezy will NOT repair to the Pig and Tinder-box, buthave actually engaged apartments at the Original Pig. Thisintelligence is EXCLUSIVE; and I leave you and your readers to drawtheir own inferences from it. Why Professor Wheezy, of all peoplein the world, should repair to the Original Pig in preference tothe Pig and Tinder-box, it is not easy to conceive. The professoris a man who should be above all such petty feelings. Some peoplehere openly impute treachery, and a distinct breach of faith toProfessors Snore and Doze; while others, again, are disposed toacquit them of any culpability in the transaction, and to insinuatethat the blame rests solely with Professor Wheezy. I own that Iincline to the latter opinion; and although it gives me great painto speak in terms of censure or disapprobation of a man of suchtranscendent genius and acquirements, still I am bound to say that, if my suspicions be well founded, and if all the reports which havereached my ears be true, I really do not well know what to make ofthe matter. 

'Mr. Slug, so celebrated for his statistical researches, arrivedthis afternoon by the four o'clock stage. His complexion is a darkpurple, and he has a habit of sighing constantly. He lookedextremely well, and appeared in high health and spirits. Mr. Woodensconce also came down in the same conveyance. Thedistinguished gentleman was fast asleep on his arrival, and I aminformed by the guard that he had been so the whole way. He was, no doubt, preparing for his approaching fatigues; but what giganticvisions must those be that flit through the brain of such a manwhen his body is in a state of torpidity!

'The influx of visitors increases every moment. I am told (I knownot how truly) that two post-chaises have arrived at the OriginalPig within the last half-hour, and I myself observed a wheelbarrow, containing three carpet bags and a bundle, entering the yard of thePig and Tinder-box no longer ago than five minutes since. Thepeople are still quietly pursuing their ordinary occupations; butthere is a wildness in their eyes, and an unwonted rigidity in themuscles of their countenances, which shows to the observantspectator that their expectations are strained to the very utmostpitch. I fear, unless some very extraordinary arrivals take placeto-night, that consequences may arise from this popular ferment, which every man of sense and feeling would deplore. '

'Twenty minutes past six. 

'I have just heard that the boy who fell through the pastrycook'swindow last night has died of the fright. He was suddenly calledupon to pay three and sixpence for the damage done, and hisconstitution, it seems, was not strong enough to bear up againstthe shock. The inquest, it is said, will be held to-morrow. '

'Three-quarters part seven. 

'Professors Muff and Nogo have just driven up to the hotel door;they at once ordered dinner with great condescension. We are allvery much delighted with the urbanity of their manners, and theease with which they adapt themselves to the forms and ceremoniesof ordinary life. Immediately on their arrival they sent for thehead waiter, and privately requested him to purchase a live dog, --as cheap a one as he could meet with, --and to send him up afterdinner, with a pie-board, a knife and fork, and a clean plate. Itis conjectured that some experiments will be tried upon the dog to-night; if any particulars should transpire, I will forward them byexpress. '

'Half-past eight. 

'The animal has been procured. He is a pug-dog, of ratherintelligent appearance, in good condition, and with very shortlegs. He has been tied to a curtain-peg in a dark room, and ishowling dreadfully. '

'Ten minutes to nine. 

'The dog has just been rung for. With an instinct which wouldappear almost the result of reason, the sagacious animal seized thewaiter by the calf of the leg when he approached to take him, andmade a desperate, though ineffectual resistance. I have not beenable to procure admission to the apartment occupied by thescientific gentlemen; but, judging from the sounds which reached myears when I stood upon the landing-place outside the door, justnow, I should be disposed to say that the dog had retreatedgrowling beneath some article of furniture, and was keeping theprofessors at bay. This conjecture is confirmed by the testimonyof the ostler, who, after peeping through the keyhole, assures methat he distinctly saw Professor Nogo on his knees, holding forth asmall bottle of prussic acid, to which the animal, who was crouchedbeneath an arm-chair, obstinately declined to smell. You cannotimagine the feverish state of irritation we are in, lest theinterests of science should be sacrificed to the prejudices of abrute creature, who is not endowed with sufficient sense to foreseethe incalculable benefits which the whole human race may derivefrom so very slight a concession on his part. '

'Nine o'clock. 

'The dog's tail and ears have been sent down-stairs to be washed;from which circumstance we infer that the animal is no more. Hisforelegs have been delivered to the boots to be brushed, whichstrengthens the supposition. '

'Half after ten. 

'My feelings are so overpowered by what has taken place in thecourse of the last hour and a half, that I have scarcely strengthto detail the rapid succession of events which have quitebewildered all those who are cognizant of their occurrence. Itappears that the pug-dog mentioned in my last was surreptitiouslyobtained, --stolen, in fact, --by some person attached to the stabledepartment, from an unmarried lady resident in this town. Franticon discovering the loss of her favourite, the lady rusheddistractedly into the street, calling in the most heart-rending andpathetic manner upon the passengers to restore her, her Augustus, --for so the deceased was named, in affectionate remembrance of aformer lover of his mistress, to whom he bore a striking personalresemblance, which renders the circumstances additionallyaffecting. I am not yet in a condition to inform you whatcircumstance induced the bereaved lady to direct her steps to thehotel which had witnessed the last struggles of her protege. I canonly state that she arrived there, at the very instant when hisdetached members were passing through the passage on a small tray. Her shrieks still reverberate in my ears! I grieve to say that theexpressive features of Professor Muff were much scratched andlacerated by the injured lady; and that Professor Nogo, besidessustaining several severe bites, has lost some handfuls of hairfrom the same cause. It must be some consolation to thesegentlemen to know that their ardent attachment to scientificpursuits has alone occasioned these unpleasant consequences; forwhich the sympathy of a grateful country will sufficiently rewardthem. The unfortunate lady remains at the Pig and Tinder-box, andup to this time is reported in a very precarious state. 

'I need scarcely tell you that this unlooked-for catastrophe hascast a damp and gloom upon us in the midst of our exhilaration;natural in any case, but greatly enhanced in this, by the amiablequalities of the deceased animal, who appears to have been much anddeservedly respected by the whole of his acquaintance. '

'Twelve o'clock. 

'I take the last opportunity before sealing my parcel to inform youthat the boy who fell through the pastrycook's window is not dead, as was universally believed, but alive and well. The reportappears to have had its origin in his mysterious disappearance. Hewas found half an hour since on the premises of a sweet-stuffmaker, where a raffle had been announced for a second-hand seal-skin cap and a tambourine; and where--a sufficient number ofmembers not having been obtained at first--he had patiently waiteduntil the list was completed. This fortunate discovery has in somedegree restored our gaiety and cheerfulness. It is proposed to getup a subscription for him without delay. 

'Everybody is nervously anxious to see what to-morrow will bringforth. If any one should arrive in the course of the night, I haveleft strict directions to be called immediately. I should have satup, indeed, but the agitating events of this day have been too muchfor me. 

'No news yet of either of the Professors Snore, Doze, or Wheezy. It is very strange!'

'Wednesday afternoon. 

'All is now over; and, upon one point at least, I am at lengthenabled to set the minds of your readers at rest. The threeprofessors arrived at ten minutes after two o'clock, and, insteadof taking up their quarters at the Original Pig, as it wasuniversally understood in the course of yesterday that they wouldassuredly have done, drove straight to the Pig and Tinder-box, where they threw off the mask at once, and openly announced theirintention of remaining. Professor Wheezy may reconcile this veryextraordinary conduct with HIS notions of fair and equitabledealing, but I would recommend Professor Wheezy to be cautious howhe presumes too far upon his well-earned reputation. How such aman as Professor Snore, or, which is still more extraordinary, suchan individual as Professor Doze, can quietly allow himself to bemixed up with such proceedings as these, you will naturallyinquire. Upon this head, rumour is silent; I have my speculations, but forbear to give utterance to them just now. '

'Four o'clock. 

'The town is filling fast; eighteenpence has been offered for a bedand refused. Several gentlemen were under the necessity last nightof sleeping in the brick fields, and on the steps of doors, forwhich they were taken before the magistrates in a body thismorning, and committed to prison as vagrants for various terms. One of these persons I understand to be a highly-respectabletinker, of great practical skill, who had forwarded a paper to thePresident of Section D. Mechanical Science, on the construction ofpipkins with copper bottoms and safety-values, of which reportspeaks highly. The incarceration of this gentleman is greatly tobe regretted, as his absence will preclude any discussion on thesubject. 

'The bills are being taken down in all directions, and lodgings arebeing secured on almost any terms. I have heard of fifteenshillings a week for two rooms, exclusive of coals and attendance, but I can scarcely believe it. The excitement is dreadful. I wasinformed this morning that the civil authorities, apprehensive ofsome outbreak of popular feeling, had commanded a recruitingsergeant and two corporals to be under arms; and that, with theview of not irritating the people unnecessarily by their presence, they had been requested to take up their position before daybreakin a turnpike, distant about a quarter of a mile from the town. The vigour and promptness of these measures cannot be too highlyextolled. 

'Intelligence has just been brought me, that an elderly female, ina state of inebriety, has declared in the open street her intentionto "do" for Mr. Slug. Some statistical returns compiled by thatgentleman, relative to the consumption of raw spirituous liquors inthis place, are supposed to be the cause of the wretch's animosity. It is added that this declaration was loudly cheered by a crowd ofpersons who had assembled on the spot; and that one man had theboldness to designate Mr. Slug aloud by the opprobrious epithet of"Stick-in-the-mud!" It is earnestly to be hoped that now, when themoment has arrived for their interference, the magistrates will notshrink from the exercise of that power which is vested in them bythe constitution of our common country. '

'Half-past ten. 

'The disturbance, I am happy to inform you, has been completelyquelled, and the ringleader taken into custody. She had a pail ofcold water thrown over her, previous to being locked up, andexpresses great contrition and uneasiness. We are all in a feverof anticipation about to-morrow; but, now that we are within a fewhours of the meeting of the association, and at last enjoy theproud consciousness of having its illustrious members amongst us, Itrust and hope everything may go off peaceably. I shall send you afull report of to-morrow's proceedings by the night coach. '

'Eleven o'clock. 

'I open my letter to say that nothing whatever has occurred since Ifolded it up. '

'Thursday. 

'The sun rose this morning at the usual hour. I did not observeanything particular in the aspect of the glorious planet, exceptthat he appeared to me (it might have been a delusion of myheightened fancy) to shine with more than common brilliancy, and toshed a refulgent lustre upon the town, such as I had never observedbefore. This is the more extraordinary, as the sky was perfectlycloudless, and the atmosphere peculiarly fine. At half-past nineo'clock the general committee assembled, with the last year'spresident in the chair. The report of the council was read; andone passage, which stated that the council had corresponded with noless than three thousand five hundred and seventy-one persons, (allof whom paid their own postage, ) on no fewer than seven thousandtwo hundred and forty-three topics, was received with a degree ofenthusiasm which no efforts could suppress. The various committeesand sections having been appointed, and the more formal businesstransacted, the great proceedings of the meeting commenced ateleven o'clock precisely. I had the happiness of occupying a mosteligible position at that time, in

'SECTION A. --ZOOLOGY AND BOTANY. GREAT ROOM, PIG AND TINDER-BOX. 

President--Professor Snore. Vice-Presidents--Professors Doze andWheezy. 

'The scene at this moment was particularly striking. The sunstreamed through the windows of the apartments, and tinted thewhole scene with its brilliant rays, bringing out in strong reliefthe noble visages of the professors and scientific gentlemen, who, some with bald heads, some with red heads, some with brown heads, some with grey heads, some with black heads, some with block heads, presented a coup d'oeil which no eye-witness will readily forget. In front of these gentlemen were papers and inkstands; and roundthe room, on elevated benches extending as far as the forms couldreach, were assembled a brilliant concourse of those lovely andelegant women for which Mudfog is justly acknowledged to be withouta rival in the whole world. The contrast between their fair facesand the dark coats and trousers of the scientific gentlemen I shallnever cease to remember while Memory holds her seat. 

'Time having been allowed for a slight confusion, occasioned by thefalling down of the greater part of the platforms, to subside, thepresident called on one of the secretaries to read a communicationentitled, "Some remarks on the industrious fleas, withconsiderations on the importance of establishing infant-schoolsamong that numerous class of society; of directing their industryto useful and practical ends; and of applying the surplus fruitsthereof, towards providing for them a comfortable and respectablemaintenance in their old age. "

'The author stated, that, having long turned his attention to themoral and social condition of these interesting animals, he hadbeen induced to visit an exhibition in Regent-street, London, commonly known by the designation of "The Industrious Fleas. " Hehad there seen many fleas, occupied certainly in various pursuitsand avocations, but occupied, he was bound to add, in a mannerwhich no man of well-regulated mind could fail to regard withsorrow and regret. One flea, reduced to the level of a beast ofburden, was drawing about a miniature gig, containing aparticularly small effigy of His Grace the Duke of Wellington;while another was staggering beneath the weight of a golden modelof his great adversary Napoleon Bonaparte. Some, brought up asmountebanks and ballet-dancers, were performing a figure-dance (heregretted to observe, that, of the fleas so employed, several werefemales); others were in training, in a small card-board box, forpedestrians, --mere sporting characters--and two were actuallyengaged in the cold-blooded and barbarous occupation of duelling; apursuit from which humanity recoiled with horror and disgust. Hesuggested that measures should be immediately taken to employ thelabour of these fleas as part and parcel of the productive power ofthe country, which might easily be done by the establishment amongthem of infant schools and houses of industry, in which a system ofvirtuous education, based upon sound principles, should beobserved, and moral precepts strictly inculcated. He proposed thatevery flea who presumed to exhibit, for hire, music, or dancing, orany species of theatrical entertainment, without a licence, shouldbe considered a vagabond, and treated accordingly; in which respecthe only placed him upon a level with the rest of mankind. He wouldfurther suggest that their labour should be placed under thecontrol and regulation of the state, who should set apart from theprofits, a fund for the support of superannuated or disabled fleas, their widows and orphans. With this view, he proposed that liberalpremiums should be offered for the three best designs for a generalalmshouse; from which--as insect architecture was well known to bein a very advanced and perfect state--we might possibly derive manyvaluable hints for the improvement of our metropolitanuniversities, national galleries, and other public edifices. 

'THE PRESIDENT wished to be informed how the ingenious gentlemanproposed to open a communication with fleas generally, in the firstinstance, so that they might be thoroughly imbued with a sense ofthe advantages they must necessarily derive from changing theirmode of life, and applying themselves to honest labour. Thisappeared to him, the only difficulty. 

'THE AUTHOR submitted that this difficulty was easily overcome, orrather that there was no difficulty at all in the case. Obviouslythe course to be pursued, if Her Majesty's government could beprevailed upon to take up the plan, would be, to secure at aremunerative salary the individual to whom he had alluded aspresiding over the exhibition in Regent-street at the period of hisvisit. That gentleman would at once be able to put himself incommunication with the mass of the fleas, and to instruct them inpursuance of some general plan of education, to be sanctioned byParliament, until such time as the more intelligent among them wereadvanced enough to officiate as teachers to the rest. 

'The President and several members of the section highlycomplimented the author of the paper last read, on his mostingenious and important treatise. It was determined that thesubject should be recommended to the immediate consideration of thecouncil. 

'MR. WIGSBY produced a cauliflower somewhat larger than a chaise-umbrella, which had been raised by no other artificial means thanthe simple application of highly carbonated soda-water as manure. He explained that by scooping out the head, which would afford anew and delicious species of nourishment for the poor, a parachute, in principle something similar to that constructed by M. Garnerin, was at once obtained; the stalk of course being kept downwards. Headded that he was perfectly willing to make a descent from a heightof not less than three miles and a quarter; and had in fact alreadyproposed the same to the proprietors of Vauxhall Gardens, who inthe handsomest manner at once consented to his wishes, andappointed an early day next summer for the undertaking; merelystipulating that the rim of the cauliflower should be previouslybroken in three or four places to ensure the safety of the descent. 

'THE PRESIDENT congratulated the public on the GRAND GALA in storefor them, and warmly eulogised the proprietors of the establishmentalluded to, for their love of science, and regard for the safety ofhuman life, both of which did them the highest honour. 

'A Member wished to know how many thousand additional lamps theroyal property would be illuminated with, on the night after thedescent. 

'MR. WIGSBY replied that the point was not yet finally decided; buthe believed it was proposed, over and above the ordinaryilluminations, to exhibit in various devices eight millions and a-half of additional lamps. 

'The Member expressed himself much gratified with thisannouncement. 

'MR. BLUNDERUM delighted the section with a most interesting andvaluable paper "on the last moments of the learned pig, " whichproduced a very strong impression on the assembly, the accountbeing compiled from the personal recollections of his favouriteattendant. The account stated in the most emphatic terms that theanimal's name was not Toby, but Solomon; and distinctly proved thathe could have no near relatives in the profession, as manydesigning persons had falsely stated, inasmuch as his father, mother, brothers and sisters, had all fallen victims to the butcherat different times. An uncle of his indeed, had with very greatlabour been traced to a sty in Somers Town; but as he was in a veryinfirm state at the time, being afflicted with measles, and shortlyafterwards disappeared, there appeared too much reason toconjecture that he had been converted into sausages. The disorderof the learned pig was originally a severe cold, which, beingaggravated by excessive trough indulgence, finally settled upon thelungs, and terminated in a general decay of the constitution. Amelancholy instance of a presentiment entertained by the animal ofhis approaching dissolution, was recorded. After gratifying anumerous and fashionable company with his performances, in which nofalling off whatever was visible, he fixed his eyes on thebiographer, and, turning to the watch which lay on the floor, andon which he was accustomed to point out the hour, deliberatelypassed his snout twice round the dial. In precisely four-and-twenty hours from that time he had ceased to exist!

'PROFESSOR WHEEZY inquired whether, previous to his demise, theanimal had expressed, by signs or otherwise, any wishes regardingthe disposal of his little property. 

'MR. BLUNDERUM replied, that, when the biographer took up the packof cards at the conclusion of the performance, the animal gruntedseveral times in a significant manner, and nodding his head as hewas accustomed to do, when gratified. From these gestures it wasunderstood that he wished the attendant to keep the cards, which hehad ever since done. He had not expressed any wish relative to hiswatch, which had accordingly been pawned by the same individual. 

'THE PRESIDENT wished to know whether any Member of the section hadever seen or conversed with the pig-faced lady, who was reported tohave worn a black velvet mask, and to have taken her meals from agolden trough. 

'After some hesitation a Member replied that the pig-faced lady washis mother-in-law, and that he trusted the President would notviolate the sanctity of private life. 

'THE PRESIDENT begged pardon. He had considered the pig-faced ladya public character. Would the honourable member object to state, with a view to the advancement of science, whether she was in anyway connected with the learned pig?

'The Member replied in the same low tone, that, as the questionappeared to involve a suspicion that the learned pig might be hishalf-brother, he must decline answering it. 

'SECTION B. --ANATOMY AND MEDICINE. COACH-HOUSE, PIG AND TINDER-BOX. 

President--Dr. Toorell. Vice-Presidents--Professors Muff and Nogo. 

DR. KUTANKUMAGEN (of Moscow) read to the section a report of a casewhich had occurred within his own practice, strikingly illustrativeof the power of medicine, as exemplified in his successfultreatment of a virulent disorder. He had been called in to visitthe patient on the 1st of April, 1837. He was then labouring undersymptoms peculiarly alarming to any medical man. His frame wasstout and muscular, his step firm and elastic, his cheeks plump andred, his voice loud, his appetite good, his pulse full and round. He was in the constant habit of eating three meals per diem, and ofdrinking at least one bottle of wine, and one glass of spirituousliquors diluted with water, in the course of the four-and-twentyhours. He laughed constantly, and in so hearty a manner that itwas terrible to hear him. By dint of powerful medicine, low diet, and bleeding, the symptoms in the course of three days perceptiblydecreased. A rigid perseverance in the same course of treatmentfor only one week, accompanied with small doses of water-gruel, weak broth, and barley-water, led to their entire disappearance. In the course of a month he was sufficiently recovered to becarried down-stairs by two nurses, and to enjoy an airing in aclose carriage, supported by soft pillows. At the present momenthe was restored so far as to walk about, with the slight assistanceof a crutch and a boy. It would perhaps be gratifying to thesection to learn that he ate little, drank little, slept little, and was never heard to laugh by any accident whatever. 

'DR. W. R. FEE, in complimenting the honourable member upon thetriumphant cure he had effected, begged to ask whether the patientstill bled freely?

'DR. KUTANKUMAGEN replied in the affirmative. 

'DR. W. R. FEE. --And you found that he bled freely during the wholecourse of the disorder?

'DR. KUTANKUMAGEN. --Oh dear, yes; most freely. 

'DR. NEESHAWTS supposed, that if the patient had not submitted tobe bled with great readiness and perseverance, so extraordinary acure could never, in fact, have been accomplished. Dr. Kutankumagen rejoined, certainly not. 

'MR. KNIGHT BELL (M. R. C. S. ) exhibited a wax preparation of theinterior of a gentleman who in early life had inadvertentlyswallowed a door-key. It was a curious fact that a medical studentof dissipated habits, being present at the post mortem examination, found means to escape unobserved from the room, with that portionof the coats of the stomach upon which an exact model of theinstrument was distinctly impressed, with which he hastened to alocksmith of doubtful character, who made a new key from thepattern so shown to him. With this key the medical student enteredthe house of the deceased gentleman, and committed a burglary to alarge amount, for which he was subsequently tried and executed. 

'THE PRESIDENT wished to know what became of the original key afterthe lapse of years. Mr. Knight Bell replied that the gentleman wasalways much accustomed to punch, and it was supposed the acid hadgradually devoured it. 

'DR. NEESHAWTS and several of the members were of opinion that thekey must have lain very cold and heavy upon the gentleman'sstomach. 

'MR. KNIGHT BELL believed it did at first. It was worthy ofremark, perhaps, that for some years the gentleman was troubledwith a night-mare, under the influence of which he always imaginedhimself a wine-cellar door. 

'PROFESSOR MUFF related a very extraordinary and convincing proofof the wonderful efficacy of the system of infinitesimal doses, which the section were doubtless aware was based upon the theorythat the very minutest amount of any given drug, properly dispersedthrough the human frame, would be productive of precisely the sameresult as a very large dose administered in the usual manner. Thus, the fortieth part of a grain of calomel was supposed to beequal to a five-grain calomel pill, and so on in proportionthroughout the whole range of medicine. He had tried theexperiment in a curious manner upon a publican who had been broughtinto the hospital with a broken head, and was cured upon theinfinitesimal system in the incredibly short space of three months. This man was a hard drinker. He (Professor Muff) had dispersedthree drops of rum through a bucket of water, and requested the manto drink the whole. What was the result? Before he had drunk aquart, he was in a state of beastly intoxication; and five othermen were made dead drunk with the remainder. 

'THE PRESIDENT wished to know whether an infinitesimal dose ofsoda-water would have recovered them? Professor Muff replied thatthe twenty-fifth part of a teaspoonful, properly administered toeach patient, would have sobered him immediately. The Presidentremarked that this was a most important discovery, and he hoped theLord Mayor and Court of Aldermen would patronize it immediately. 

'A Member begged to be informed whether it would be possible toadminister--say, the twentieth part of a grain of bread and cheeseto all grown-up paupers, and the fortieth part to children, withthe same satisfying effect as their present allowance. 

'PROFESSOR MUFF was willing to stake his professional reputation onthe perfect adequacy of such a quantity of food to the support ofhuman life--in workhouses; the addition of the fifteenth part of agrain of pudding twice a week would render it a high diet. 

'PROFESSOR NOGO called the attention of the section to a veryextraordinary case of animal magnetism. A private watchman, beingmerely looked at by the operator from the opposite side of a widestreet, was at once observed to be in a very drowsy and languidstate. He was followed to his box, and being once slightly rubbedon the palms of the hands, fell into a sound sleep, in which hecontinued without intermission for ten hours. 

'SECTION C. --STATISTICS. HAY-LOFT, ORIGINAL PIG. 

President--Mr. Woodensconce. Vice-Presidents--Mr. Ledbrain and Mr. Timbered. 

'MR. SLUG stated to the section the result of some calculations hehad made with great difficulty and labour, regarding the state ofinfant education among the middle classes of London. He foundthat, within a circle of three miles from the Elephant and Castle, the following were the names and numbers of children's booksprincipally in circulation:-

'Jack the Giant-killer 7, 943Ditto and Bean-stalk 8, 621Ditto and Eleven Brothers 2, 845Ditto and Jill 1, 998Total 21, 407

'He found that the proportion of Robinson Crusoes to Philip Quarllswas as four and a half to one; and that the preponderance ofValentine and Orsons over Goody Two Shoeses was as three and aneighth of the former to half a one of the latter; a comparison ofSeven Champions with Simple Simons gave the same result. Theignorance that prevailed, was lamentable. One child, on beingasked whether he would rather be Saint George of England or arespectable tallow-chandler, instantly replied, "Taint George ofIngling. " Another, a little boy of eight years old, was found tobe firmly impressed with a belief in the existence of dragons, andopenly stated that it was his intention when he grew up, to rushforth sword in hand for the deliverance of captive princesses, andthe promiscuous slaughter of giants. Not one child among thenumber interrogated had ever heard of Mungo Park, --some inquiringwhether he was at all connected with the black man that swept thecrossing; and others whether he was in any way related to theRegent's Park. They had not the slightest conception of thecommonest principles of mathematics, and considered Sindbad theSailor the most enterprising voyager that the world had everproduced. 

'A Member strongly deprecating the use of all the other booksmentioned, suggested that Jack and Jill might perhaps be exemptedfrom the general censure, inasmuch as the hero and heroine, in thevery outset of the tale, were depicted as going UP a hill to fetcha pail of water, which was a laborious and useful occupation, --supposing the family linen was being washed, for instance. 

'MR. SLUG feared that the moral effect of this passage was morethan counterbalanced by another in a subsequent part of the poem, in which very gross allusion was made to the mode in which theheroine was personally chastised by her mother

"'For laughing at Jack's disaster;"

besides, the whole work had this one great fault, IT WAS NOT TRUE. 

'THE PRESIDENT complimented the honourable member on the excellentdistinction he had drawn. Several other Members, too, dwelt uponthe immense and urgent necessity of storing the minds of childrenwith nothing but facts and figures; which process the Presidentvery forcibly remarked, had made them (the section) the men theywere. 

'MR. SLUG then stated some curious calculations respecting thedogs'-meat barrows of London. He found that the total number ofsmall carts and barrows engaged in dispensing provision to the catsand dogs of the metropolis was, one thousand seven hundred andforty-three. The average number of skewers delivered daily withthe provender, by each dogs'-meat cart or barrow, was thirty-six. Now, multiplying the number of skewers so delivered by the numberof barrows, a total of sixty-two thousand seven hundred and forty-eight skewers daily would be obtained. Allowing that, of thesesixty-two thousand seven hundred and forty-eight skewers, the oddtwo thousand seven hundred and forty-eight were accidentallydevoured with the meat, by the most voracious of the animalssupplied, it followed that sixty thousand skewers per day, or theenormous number of twenty-one millions nine hundred thousandskewers annually, were wasted in the kennels and dustholes ofLondon; which, if collected and warehoused, would in ten years'time afford a mass of timber more than sufficient for theconstruction of a first-rate vessel of war for the use of herMajesty's navy, to be called "The Royal Skewer, " and to becomeunder that name the terror of all the enemies of this island. 

'MR. X. LEDBRAIN read a very ingenious communication, from which itappeared that the total number of legs belonging to themanufacturing population of one great town in Yorkshire was, inround numbers, forty thousand, while the total number of chair andstool legs in their houses was only thirty thousand, which, uponthe very favourable average of three legs to a seat, yielded onlyten thousand seats in all. From this calculation it would appear, --not taking wooden or cork legs into the account, but allowing twolegs to every person, --that ten thousand individuals (one-half ofthe whole population) were either destitute of any rest for theirlegs at all, or passed the whole of their leisure time in sittingupon boxes. 

'SECTION D. --MECHANICAL SCIENCE. COACH-HOUSE, ORIGINAL PIG. 

President--Mr. Carter. Vice-Presidents--Mr. Truck and Mr. Waghorn. 

'PROFESSOR QUEERSPECK exhibited an elegant model of a portablerailway, neatly mounted in a green case, for the waistcoat pocket. By attaching this beautiful instrument to his boots, any Bank orpublic-office clerk could transport himself from his place ofresidence to his place of business, at the easy rate of sixty-fivemiles an hour, which, to gentlemen of sedentary pursuits, would bean incalculable advantage. 

'THE PRESIDENT was desirous of knowing whether it was necessary tohave a level surface on which the gentleman was to run. 

'PROFESSOR QUEERSPECK explained that City gentlemen would run intrains, being handcuffed together to prevent confusion orunpleasantness. For instance, trains would start every morning ateight, nine, and ten o'clock, from Camden Town, Islington, Camberwell, Hackney, and various other places in which Citygentlemen are accustomed to reside. It would be necessary to havea level, but he had provided for this difficulty by proposing thatthe best line that the circumstances would admit of, should betaken through the sewers which undermine the streets of themetropolis, and which, well lighted by jets from the gas pipeswhich run immediately above them, would form a pleasant andcommodious arcade, especially in winter-time, when the inconvenientcustom of carrying umbrellas, now so general, could be whollydispensed with. In reply to another question, Professor Queerspeckstated that no substitute for the purposes to which these arcadeswere at present devoted had yet occurred to him, but that he hopedno fanciful objection on this head would be allowed to interferewith so great an undertaking. 

'MR. JOBBA produced a forcing-machine on a novel plan, for bringingjoint-stock railway shares prematurely to a premium. Theinstrument was in the form of an elegant gilt weather-glass, ofmost dazzling appearance, and was worked behind, by strings, afterthe manner of a pantomime trick, the strings being always pulled bythe directors of the company to which the machine belonged. Thequicksilver was so ingeniously placed, that when the actingdirectors held shares in their pockets, figures denoting very smallexpenses and very large returns appeared upon the glass; but themoment the directors parted with these pieces of paper, theestimate of needful expenditure suddenly increased itself to animmense extent, while the statements of certain profits becamereduced in the same proportion. Mr. Jobba stated that the machinehad been in constant requisition for some months past, and he hadnever once known it to fail. 

'A Member expressed his opinion that it was extremely neat andpretty. He wished to know whether it was not liable to accidentalderangement? Mr. Jobba said that the whole machine was undoubtedlyliable to be blown up, but that was the only objection to it. 

'PROFESSOR NOGO arrived from the anatomical section to exhibit amodel of a safety fire-escape, which could be fixed at any time, inless than half an hour, and by means of which, the youngest or mostinfirm persons (successfully resisting the progress of the flamesuntil it was quite ready) could be preserved if they merelybalanced themselves for a few minutes on the sill of their bedroomwindow, and got into the escape without falling into the street. The Professor stated that the number of boys who had been rescuedin the daytime by this machine from houses which were not on fire, was almost incredible. Not a conflagration had occurred in thewhole of London for many months past to which the escape had notbeen carried on the very next day, and put in action before aconcourse of persons. 

'THE PRESIDENT inquired whether there was not some difficulty inascertaining which was the top of the machine, and which thebottom, in cases of pressing emergency. 

'PROFESSOR NOGO explained that of course it could not be expectedto act quite as well when there was a fire, as when there was not afire; but in the former case he thought it would be of equalservice whether the top were up or down. '

With the last section our correspondent concludes his most able andfaithful Report, which will never cease to reflect credit upon himfor his scientific attainments, and upon us for our enterprisingspirit. It is needless to take a review of the subjects which havebeen discussed; of the mode in which they have been examined; ofthe great truths which they have elicited. They are now before theworld, and we leave them to read, to consider, and to profit. 

The place of meeting for next year has undergone discussion, andhas at length been decided, regard being had to, and evidence beingtaken upon, the goodness of its wines, the supply of its markets, the hospitality of its inhabitants, and the quality of its hotels. We hope at this next meeting our correspondent may again bepresent, and that we may be once more the means of placing hiscommunications before the world. Until that period we have beenprevailed upon to allow this number of our Miscellany to beretailed to the public, or wholesaled to the trade, without anyadvance upon our usual price. 

We have only to add, that the committees are now broken up, andthat Mudfog is once again restored to its accustomed tranquillity, --that Professors and Members have had balls, and soirees, andsuppers, and great mutual complimentations, and have at lengthdispersed to their several homes, --whither all good wishes and joysattend them, until next year!

Signed BOZ. 

FULL REPORT OF THE SECOND MEETING OF THE MUDFOG ASSOCIATION FOR THEADVANCEMENT OF EVERYTHING

In October last, we did ourselves the immortal credit of recording, at an enormous expense, and by dint of exertions unnpralleled inthe history of periodical publication, the proceedings of theMudfog Association for the Advancement of Everything, which in thatmonth held its first great half-yearly meeting, to the wonder anddelight of the whole empire. We announced at the conclusion ofthat extraordinary and most remarkable Report, that when the SecondMeeting of the Society should take place, we should be found againat our post, renewing our gigantic and spirited endeavours, andonce more making the world ring with the accuracy, authenticity, immeasurable superiority, and intense remarkability of our accountof its proceedings. In redemption of this pledge, we caused to bedespatched per steam to Oldcastle (at which place this secondmeeting of the Society was held on the 20th instant), the samesuperhumanly-endowed gentleman who furnished the former report, andwho, --gifted by nature with transcendent abilities, and furnishedby us with a body of assistants scarcely inferior to himself, --hasforwarded a series of letters, which, for faithfulness ofdescription, power of language, fervour of thought, happiness ofexpression, and importance of subject-matter, have no equal in theepistolary literature of any age or country. We give thisgentleman's correspondence entire, and in the order in which itreached our office. 

'Saloon of Steamer, Thursday night, half-past eight. 

'When I left New Burlington Street this evening in the hackneycabriolet, number four thousand two hundred and eighty-five, Iexperienced sensations as novel as they were oppressive. A senseof the importance of the task I had undertaken, a consciousnessthat I was leaving London, and, stranger still, going somewhereelse, a feeling of loneliness and a sensation of jolting, quitebewildered my thoughts, and for a time rendered me even insensibleto the presence of my carpet-bag and hat-box. I shall ever feelgrateful to the driver of a Blackwall omnibus who, by thrusting thepole of his vehicle through the small door of the cabriolet, awakened me from a tumult of imaginings that are whollyindescribable. But of such materials is our imperfect naturecomposed!

'I am happy to say that I am the first passenger on board, andshall thus be enabled to give you an account of all that happens inthe order of its occurrence. The chimney is smoking a good deal, and so are the crew; and the captain, I am informed, is very drunkin a little house upon deck, something like a black turnpike. Ishould infer from all I hear that he has got the steam up. 

'You will readily guess with what feelings I have just made thediscovery that my berth is in the same closet with those engaged byProfessor Woodensconce, Mr. Slug, and Professor Grime. ProfessorWoodensconce has taken the shelf above me, and Mr. Slug andProfessor Grime the two shelves opposite. Their luggage hasalready arrived. On Mr. Slug's bed is a long tin tube of aboutthree inches in diameter, carefully closed at both ends. What canthis contain? Some powerful instrument of a new construction, doubtless. '

'Ten minutes past nine. 

'Nobody has yet arrived, nor has anything fresh come in my wayexcept several joints of beef and mutton, from which I concludethat a good plain dinner has been provided for to-morrow. There isa singular smell below, which gave me some uneasiness at first; butas the steward says it is always there, and never goes away, I amquite comfortable again. I learn from this man that the differentsections will be distributed at the Black Boy and Stomach-ache, andthe Boot-jack and Countenance. If this intelligence be true (and Ihave no reason to doubt it), your readers will draw suchconclusions as their different opinions may suggest. 

'I write down these remarks as they occur to me, or as the factscome to my knowledge, in order that my first impressions may losenothing of their original vividness. I shall despatch them insmall packets as opportunities arise. '

'Half past nine. 

'Some dark object has just appeared upon the wharf. I think it isa travelling carriage. '

'A quarter to ten. 

'No, it isn't. '

'Half-past ten. 

The passengers are pouring in every instant. Four omnibuses fullhave just arrived upon the wharf, and all is bustle and activity. The noise and confusion are very great. Cloths are laid in thecabins, and the steward is placing blue plates--full of knobs ofcheese at equal distances down the centre of the tables. He dropsa great many knobs; but, being used to it, picks them up again withgreat dexterity, and, after wiping them on his sleeve, throws themback into the plates. He is a young man of exceedinglyprepossessing appearance--either dirty or a mulatto, but I thinkthe former. 

'An interesting old gentleman, who came to the wharf in an omnibus, has just quarrelled violently with the porters, and is staggeringtowards the vessel with a large trunk in his arms. I trust andhope that he may reach it in safety; but the board he has to crossis narrow and slippery. Was that a splash? Gracious powers!

'I have just returned from the deck. The trunk is standing uponthe extreme brink of the wharf, but the old gentleman is nowhere tobe seen. The watchman is not sure whether he went down or not, butpromises to drag for him the first thing to-morrow morning. Mayhis humane efforts prove successful!

'Professor Nogo has this moment arrived with his nightcap on underhis hat. He has ordered a glass of cold brandy and water, with ahard biscuit and a basin, and has gone straight to bed. What canthis mean?

'The three other scientific gentlemen to whom I have alreadyalluded have come on board, and have all tried their beds, with theexception of Professor Woodensconce, who sleeps in one of the topones, and can't get into it. Mr. Slug, who sleeps in the other topone, is unable to get out of his, and is to have his supper handedup by a boy. I have had the honour to introduce myself to thesegentlemen, and we have amicably arranged the order in which weshall retire to rest; which it is necessary to agree upon, because, although the cabin is very comfortable, there is not room for morethan one gentleman to be out of bed at a time, and even he musttake his boots off in the passage. 

'As I anticipated, the knobs of cheese were provided for thepassengers' supper, and are now in course of consumption. Yourreaders will be surprised to hear that Professor Woodensconce hasabstained from cheese for eight years, although he takes butter inconsiderable quantities. Professor Grime having lost severalteeth, is unable, I observe, to eat his crusts without previouslysoaking them in his bottled porter. How interesting are thesepeculiarities!'

'Half-past eleven. 

'Professors Woodensconce and Grime, with a degree of good humourthat delights us all, have just arranged to toss for a bottle ofmulled port. There has been some discussion whether the paymentshould be decided by the first toss or the best out of three. Eventually the latter course has been determined on. Deeply do Iwish that both gentlemen could win; but that being impossible, Iown that my personal aspirations (I speak as an individual, and donot compromise either you or your readers by this expression offeeling) are with Professor Woodensconce. I have backed thatgentleman to the amount of eighteenpence. '

'Twenty minutes to twelve. 

'Professor Grime has inadvertently tossed his half-crown out of oneof the cabin-windows, and it has been arranged that the stewardshall toss for him. Bets are offered on any side to any amount, but there are no takers. 

'Professor Woodensconce has just called "woman;" but the coinhaving lodged in a beam, is a long time coming down again. Theinterest and suspense of this one moment are beyond anything thatcan be imagined. '

'Twelve o'clock. 

'The mulled port is smoking on the table before me, and ProfessorGrime has won. Tossing is a game of chance; but on every ground, whether of public or private character, intellectual endowments, orscientific attainments, I cannot help expressing my opinion thatProfessor Woodensconce OUGHT to have come off victorious. There isan exultation about Professor Grime incompatible, I fear, with truegreatness. '

'A quarter past twelve. 

'Professor Grime continues to exult, and to boast of his victory inno very measured terms, observing that he always does win, and thathe knew it would be a "head" beforehand, with many other remarks ofa similar nature. Surely this gentleman is not so lost to everyfeeling of decency and propriety as not to feel and know thesuperiority of Professor Woodensconce? Is Professor Grime insane?or does he wish to be reminded in plain language of his trueposition in society, and the precise level of his acquirements andabilities? Professor Grime will do well to look to this. '

'One o'clock. 

'I am writing in bed. The small cabin is illuminated by the feeblelight of a flickering lamp suspended from the ceiling; ProfessorGrime is lying on the opposite shelf on the broad of his back, withhis mouth wide open. The scene is indescribably solemn. Therippling of the tide, the noise of the sailors' feet overhead, thegruff voices on the river, the dogs on the shore, the snoring ofthe passengers, and a constant creaking of every plank in thevessel, are the only sounds that meet the ear. With theseexceptions, all is profound silence. 

'My curiosity has been within the last moment very much excited. Mr. Slug, who lies above Professor Grime, has cautiously withdrawnthe curtains of his berth, and, after looking anxiously out, as ifto satisfy himself that his companions are asleep, has taken up thetin tube of which I have before spoken, and is regarding it withgreat interest. What rare mechanical combination can be containedin that mysterious case? It is evidently a profound secret toall. '

'A quarter past one. 

'The behaviour of Mr. Slug grows more and more mysterious. He hasunscrewed the top of the tube, and now renews his observations uponhis companions, evidently to make sure that he is whollyunobserved. He is clearly on the eve of some great experiment. Pray heaven that it be not a dangerous one; but the interests ofscience must be promoted, and I am prepared for the worst. '

'Five minutes later. 

'He has produced a large pair of scissors, and drawn a roll of somesubstance, not unlike parchment in appearance, from the tin case. The experiment is about to begin. I must strain my eyes to theutmost, in the attempt to follow its minutest operation. '

'Twenty minutes before two. 

'I have at length been enabled to ascertain that the tin tubecontains a few yards of some celebrated plaster, recommended--as Idiscover on regarding the label attentively through my eye-glass--as a preservative against sea-sickness. Mr. Slug has cut it upinto small portions, and is now sticking it over himself in everydirection. '

'Three o'clock. 

'Precisely a quarter of an hour ago we weighed anchor, and themachinery was suddenly put in motion with a noise so appalling, that Professor Woodensconce (who had ascended to his berth by meansof a platform of carpet-bags arranged by himself on geometricalprincipals) darted from his shelf head foremost, and, gaining hisfeet with all the rapidity of extreme terror, ran wildly into theladies' cabin, under the impression that we were sinking, anduttering loud cries for aid. I am assured that the scene whichensued baffles all description. There were one hundred and forty-seven ladies in their respective berths at the time. 

'Mr. Slug has remarked, as an additional instance of the extremeingenuity of the steam-engine as applied to purposes of navigation, that in whatever part of the vessel a passenger's berth may besituated, the machinery always appears to be exactly under hispillow. He intends stating this very beautiful, though simplediscovery, to the association. '

'Half-past ten. 

'We are still in smooth water; that is to say, in as smooth wateras a steam-vessel ever can be, for, as Professor Woodensconce (whohas just woke up) learnedly remarks, another great point ofingenuity about a steamer is, that it always carries a little stormwith it. You can scarcely conceive how exciting the jerkingpulsation of the ship becomes. It is a matter of positivedifficulty to get to sleep. '

'Friday afternoon, six o'clock. 

'I regret to inform you that Mr. Slug's plaster has proved of noavail. He is in great agony, but has applied several large, additional pieces notwithstanding. How affecting is this extremedevotion to science and pursuit of knowledge under the most tryingcircumstances!

'We were extremely happy this morning, and the breakfast was one ofthe most animated description. Nothing unpleasant occurred untilnoon, with the exception of Doctor Foxey's brown silk umbrella andwhite hat becoming entangled in the machinery while he wasexplaining to a knot of ladies the construction of the steam-engine. I fear the gravy soup for lunch was injudicious. We losta great many passengers almost immediately afterwards. '

'Half-past six. 

'I am again in bed. Anything so heart-rending as Mr. Slug'ssufferings it has never yet been my lot to witness. '

'Seven o'clock. 

'A messenger has just come down for a clean pocket-handkerchieffrom Professor Woodensconce's bag, that unfortunate gentleman beingquite unable to leave the deck, and imploring constantly to bethrown overboard. From this man I understand that Professor Nogo, though in a state of utter exhaustion, clings feebly to the hardbiscuit and cold brandy and water, under the impression that theywill yet restore him. Such is the triumph of mind over matter. 

'Professor Grime is in bed, to all appearance quite well; but heWILL eat, and it is disagreeable to see him. Has this gentleman nosympathy with the sufferings of his fellow-creatures? If he has, on what principle can he call for mutton-chops--and smile?'

'Black Boy and Stomach-ache, Oldcastle, Saturday noon. 

'You will be happy to learn that I have at length arrived here insafety. The town is excessively crowded, and all the privatelodgings and hotels are filled with savans of both sexes. Thetremendous assemblage of intellect that one encounters in everystreet is in the last degree overwhelming. 

'Notwithstanding the throng of people here, I have been fortunateenough to meet with very comfortable accommodation on veryreasonable terms, having secured a sofa in the first-floor passageat one guinea per night, which includes permission to take my mealsin the bar, on condition that I walk about the streets at all othertimes, to make room for other gentlemen similarly situated. I havebeen over the outhouses intended to be devoted to the reception ofthe various sections, both here and at the Boot-jack andCountenance, and am much delighted with the arrangements. Nothingcan exceed the fresh appearance of the saw-dust with which thefloors are sprinkled. The forms are of unplaned deal, and thegeneral effect, as you can well imagine, is extremely beautiful. '

'Half-past nine. 

'The number and rapidity of the arrivals are quite bewildering. Within the last ten minutes a stage-coach has driven up to thedoor, filled inside and out with distinguished characters, comprising Mr. Muddlebranes, Mr. Drawley, Professor Muff, Mr. X. Misty, Mr. X. X. Misty, Mr. Purblind, Professor Rummun, TheHonourable and Reverend Mr. Long Eers, Professor John Ketch, SirWilliam Joltered, Doctor Buffer, Mr. Smith (of London), Mr. Brown(of Edinburgh), Sir Hookham Snivey, and Professor Pumpkinskull. The ten last-named gentlemen were wet through, and looked extremelyintelligent. '

'Sunday, two o'clock, p. M. 

'The Honourable and Reverend Mr. Long Eers, accompanied by SirWilliam Joltered, walked and drove this morning. They accomplishedthe former feat in boots, and the latter in a hired fly. This hasnaturally given rise to much discussion. 

'I have just learnt that an interview has taken place at the Boot-jack and Countenance between Sowster, the active and intelligentbeadle of this place, and Professor Pumpkinskull, who, as yourreaders are doubtless aware, is an influential member of thecouncil. I forbear to communicate any of the rumours to which thisvery extraordinary proceeding has given rise until I have seenSowster, and endeavoured to ascertain the truth from him. '

'Half-past six. 

'I engaged a donkey-chaise shortly after writing the above, andproceeded at a brisk trot in the direction of Sowster's residence, passing through a beautiful expanse of country, with red brickbuildings on either side, and stopping in the marketplace toobserve the spot where Mr. Kwakley's hat was blown off yesterday. It is an uneven piece of paving, but has certainly no appearancewhich would lead one to suppose that any such event had recentlyoccurred there. From this point I proceeded--passing the gas-worksand tallow-melter's--to a lane which had been pointed out to me asthe beadle's place of residence; and before I had driven a dozenyards further, I had the good fortune to meet Sowster himselfadvancing towards me. 

'Sowster is a fat man, with a more enlarged development of thatpeculiar conformation of countenance which is vulgarly termed adouble chin than I remember to have ever seen before. He has alsoa very red nose, which he attributes to a habit of early rising--sored, indeed, that but for this explanation I should have supposedit to proceed from occasional inebriety. He informed me that hedid not feel himself at liberty to relate what had passed betweenhimself and Professor Pumpkinskull, but had no objection to statethat it was connected with a matter of police regulation, and addedwith peculiar significance "Never wos sitch times!"

'You will easily believe that this intelligence gave meconsiderable surprise, not wholly unmixed with anxiety, and that Ilost no time in waiting on Professor Pumpkinskull, and stating theobject of my visit. After a few moments' reflection, theProfessor, who, I am bound to say, behaved with the utmostpoliteness, openly avowed (I mark the passage in italics) THAT HEHAD REQUESTED SOWSTER TO ATTEND ON THE MONDAY MORNING AT THE BOOT-JACK AND COUNTENANCE, TO KEEP OFF THE BOYS; AND THAT HE HAD FURTHERDESIRED THAT THE UNDER-BEADLE MIGHT BE STATIONED, WITH THE SAMEOBJECT, AT THE BLACK BOY AND STOMACH-ACHE!

'Now I leave this unconstitutional proceeding to your comments andthe consideration of your readers. I have yet to learn that abeadle, without the precincts of a church, churchyard, or work-house, and acting otherwise than under the express orders ofchurchwardens and overseers in council assembled, to enforce thelaw against people who come upon the parish, and other offenders, has any lawful authority whatever over the rising youth of thiscountry. I have yet to learn that a beadle can be called out byany civilian to exercise a domination and despotism over the boysof Britain. I have yet to learn that a beadle will be permitted bythe commissioners of poor law regulation to wear out the soles andheels of his boots in illegal interference with the liberties ofpeople not proved poor or otherwise criminal. I have yet to learnthat a beadle has power to stop up the Queen's highway at his willand pleasure, or that the whole width of the street is not free andopen to any man, boy, or woman in existence, up to the very wallsof the houses--ay, be they Black Boys and Stomach-aches, or Boot-jacks and Countenances, I care not. '

'Nine o'clock. 

'I have procured a local artist to make a faithful sketch of thetyrant Sowster, which, as he has acquired this infamous celebrity, you will no doubt wish to have engraved for the purpose ofpresenting a copy with every copy of your next number. I encloseit. 

[Picture which cannot be reproduced]

The under-beadle has consented to write his life, but it is to bestrictly anonymous. 

'The accompanying likeness is of course from the life, and completein every respect. Even if I had been totally ignorant of the man'sreal character, and it had been placed before me without remark, Ishould have shuddered involuntarily. There is an intense malignityof expression in the features, and a baleful ferocity of purpose inthe ruffian's eye, which appals and sickens. His whole air isrampant with cruelty, nor is the stomach less characteristic of hisdemoniac propensities. '

'Monday. 

'The great day has at length arrived. I have neither eyes, norears, nor pens, nor ink, nor paper, for anything but the wonderfulproceedings that have astounded my senses. Let me collect myenergies and proceed to the account. 

'SECTION A. --ZOOLOGY AND BOTANY. FRONT PARLOUR, BLACK BOY AND STOMACH-ACHE. 

President--Sir William Joltered. Vice-Presidents--Mr. Muddlebranesand Mr. Drawley. 

'MR. X. X. MISTY communicated some remarks on the disappearance ofdancing-bears from the streets of London, with observations on theexhibition of monkeys as connected with barrel-organs. The writerhad observed, with feelings of the utmost pain and regret, thatsome years ago a sudden and unaccountable change in the publictaste took place with reference to itinerant bears, who, beingdiscountenanced by the populace, gradually fell off one by one fromthe streets of the metropolis, until not one remained to create ataste for natural history in the breasts of the poor anduninstructed. One bear, indeed, --a brown and ragged animal, --hadlingered about the haunts of his former triumphs, with a worn anddejected visage and feeble limbs, and had essayed to wield hisquarter-staff for the amusement of the multitude; but hunger, andan utter want of any due recompense for his abilities, had atlength driven him from the field, and it was only too probable thathe had fallen a sacrifice to the rising taste for grease. Heregretted to add that a similar, and no less lamentable, change hadtaken place with reference to monkeys. These delightful animalshad formerly been almost as plentiful as the organs on the tops ofwhich they were accustomed to sit; the proportion in the year 1829(it appeared by the parliamentary return) being as one monkey tothree organs. Owing, however, to an altered taste in musicalinstruments, and the substitution, in a great measure, of narrowboxes of music for organs, which left the monkeys nothing to situpon, this source of public amusement was wholly dried up. Considering it a matter of the deepest importance, in connectionwith national education, that the people should not lose suchopportunities of making themselves acquainted with the manners andcustoms of two most interesting species of animals, the authorsubmitted that some measures should be immediately taken for therestoration of these pleasing and truly intellectual amusements. 

'THE PRESIDENT inquired by what means the honourable memberproposed to attain this most desirable end?

'THE AUTHOR submitted that it could be most fully andsatisfactorily accomplished, if Her Majesty's Government wouldcause to be brought over to England, and maintained at the publicexpense, and for the public amusement, such a number of bears aswould enable every quarter of the town to be visited--say at leastby three bears a week. No difficulty whatever need be experiencedin providing a fitting place for the reception of these animals, asa commodious bear-garden could be erected in the immediateneighbourhood of both Houses of Parliament; obviously the mostproper and eligible spot for such an establishment. 

'PROFESSOR MULL doubted very much whether any correct ideas ofnatural history were propagated by the means to which thehonourable member had so ably adverted. On the contrary, hebelieved that they had been the means of diffusing very incorrectand imperfect notions on the subject. He spoke from personalobservation and personal experience, when he said that manychildren of great abilities had been induced to believe, from whatthey had observed in the streets, at and before the period to whichthe honourable gentleman had referred, that all monkeys were bornin red coats and spangles, and that their hats and feathers alsocame by nature. He wished to know distinctly whether thehonourable gentleman attributed the want of encouragement the bearshad met with to the decline of public taste in that respect, or toa want of ability on the part of the bears themselves?

'MR. X. X. MISTY replied, that he could not bring himself tobelieve but that there must be a great deal of floating talentamong the bears and monkeys generally; which, in the absence of anyproper encouragement, was dispersed in other directions. 

'PROFESSOR PUMPKINSKULL wished to take that opportunity of callingthe attention of the section to a most important and serious point. The author of the treatise just read had alluded to the prevalenttaste for bears'-grease as a means of promoting the growth of hair, which undoubtedly was diffused to a very great and (as it appearedto him) very alarming extent. No gentleman attending that sectioncould fail to be aware of the fact that the youth of the presentage evinced, by their behaviour in the streets, and at all placesof public resort, a considerable lack of that gallantry andgentlemanly feeling which, in more ignorant times, had been thoughtbecoming. He wished to know whether it were possible that aconstant outward application of bears'-grease by the younggentlemen about town had imperceptibly infused into those unhappypersons something of the nature and quality of the bear. Heshuddered as he threw out the remark; but if this theory, oninquiry, should prove to be well founded, it would at once explaina great deal of unpleasant eccentricity of behaviour, which, without some such discovery, was wholly unaccountable. 

'THE PRESIDENT highly complimented the learned gentleman on hismost valuable suggestion, which produced the greatest effect uponthe assembly; and remarked that only a week previous he had seensome young gentlemen at a theatre eyeing a box of ladies with afierce intensity, which nothing but the influence of some brutishappetite could possibly explain. It was dreadful to reflect thatour youth were so rapidly verging into a generation of bears. 

'After a scene of scientific enthusiasm it was resolved that thisimportant question should be immediately submitted to theconsideration of the council. 

'THE PRESIDENT wished to know whether any gentleman could informthe section what had become of the dancing-dogs?

'A MEMBER replied, after some hesitation, that on the day afterthree glee-singers had been committed to prison as criminals by alate most zealous police-magistrate of the metropolis, the dogs hadabandoned their professional duties, and dispersed themselves indifferent quarters of the town to gain a livelihood by lessdangerous means. He was given to understand that since that periodthey had supported themselves by lying in wait for and robbingblind men's poodles. 

'MR. FLUMMERY exhibited a twig, claiming to be a veritable branchof that noble tree known to naturalists as the SHAKSPEARE, whichhas taken root in every land and climate, and gathered under theshade of its broad green boughs the great family of mankind. Thelearned gentleman remarked that the twig had been undoubtedlycalled by other names in its time; but that it had been pointed outto him by an old lady in Warwickshire, where the great tree hadgrown, as a shoot of the genuine SHAKSPEARE, by which name hebegged to introduce it to his countrymen. 

'THE PRESIDENT wished to know what botanical definition thehonourable gentleman could afford of the curiosity. 

'MR. FLUMMERY expressed his opinion that it was A DECIDED PLANT. 

'SECTION B. --DISPLAY OF MODELS AND MECHANICAL SCIENCE. LARGE ROOM, BOOT-JACK AND COUNTENANCE. 

President--Mr. Mallett. Vice-Presidents--Messrs. Leaver and Scroo. 

'MR. CRINKLES exhibited a most beautiful and delicate machine, oflittle larger size than an ordinary snuff-box, manufacturedentirely by himself, and composed exclusively of steel, by the aidof which more pockets could be picked in one hour than by thepresent slow and tedious process in four-and-twenty. The inventorremarked that it had been put into active operation in FleetStreet, the Strand, and other thoroughfares, and had never beenonce known to fail. 

'After some slight delay, occasioned by the various members of thesection buttoning their pockets, 'THE PRESIDENT narrowly inspected the invention, and declared thathe had never seen a machine of more beautiful or exquisiteconstruction. Would the inventor be good enough to inform thesection whether he had taken any and what means for bringing itinto general operation?

'MR. CRINKLES stated that, after encountering some preliminarydifficulties, he had succeeded in putting himself in communicationwith Mr. Fogle Hunter, and other gentlemen connected with the swellmob, who had awarded the invention the very highest and mostunqualified approbation. He regretted to say, however, that thesedistinguished practitioners, in common with a gentleman of the nameof Gimlet-eyed Tommy, and other members of a secondary grade of theprofession whom he was understood to represent, entertained aninsuperable objection to its being brought into general use, on theground that it would have the inevitable effect of almost entirelysuperseding manual labour, and throwing a great number of highly-deserving persons out of employment. 

'THE PRESIDENT hoped that no such fanciful objections would beallowed to stand in the way of such a great public improvement. 

'MR. CRINKLES hoped so too; but he feared that if the gentlemen ofthe swell mob persevered in their objection, nothing could be done. 

'PROFESSOR GRIME suggested, that surely, in that case, HerMajesty's Government might be prevailed upon to take it up. 

'MR. CRINKLES said, that if the objection were found to beinsuperable he should apply to Parliament, which he thought couldnot fail to recognise the utility of the invention. 

'THE PRESIDENT observed that, up to this time Parliament hadcertainly got on very well without it; but, as they did theirbusiness on a very large scale, he had no doubt they would gladlyadopt the improvement. His only fear was that the machine might beworn out by constant working. 

'MR. COPPERNOSE called the attention of the section to aproposition of great magnitude and interest, illustrated by a vastnumber of models, and stated with much clearness and perspicuity ina treatise entitled "Practical Suggestions on the necessity ofproviding some harmless and wholesome relaxation for the youngnoblemen of England. " His proposition was, that a space of groundof not less than ten miles in length and four in breadth should bepurchased by a new company, to be incorporated by Act ofParliament, and inclosed by a brick wall of not less than twelvefeet in height. He proposed that it should be laid out withhighway roads, turnpikes, bridges, miniature villages, and everyobject that could conduce to the comfort and glory of Four-in-handClubs, so that they might be fairly presumed to require no drivebeyond it. This delightful retreat would be fitted up with mostcommodious and extensive stables, for the convenience of such ofthe nobility and gentry as had a taste for ostlering, and withhouses of entertainment furnished in the most expensive andhandsome style. It would be further provided with whole streets ofdoor-knockers and bell-handles of extra size, so constructed thatthey could be easily wrenched off at night, and regularly screwedon again, by attendants provided for the purpose, every day. Therewould also be gas lamps of real glass, which could be broken at acomparatively small expense per dozen, and a broad and handsomefoot pavement for gentlemen to drive their cabriolets upon whenthey were humorously disposed--for the full enjoyment of which featlive pedestrians would be procured from the workhouse at a verysmall charge per head. The place being inclosed, and carefullyscreened from the intrusion of the public, there would be noobjection to gentlemen laying aside any article of their costumethat was considered to interfere with a pleasant frolic, or, indeed, to their walking about without any costume at all, if theyliked that better. In short, every facility of enjoyment would beafforded that the most gentlemanly person could possibly desire. But as even these advantages would be incomplete unless there weresome means provided of enabling the nobility and gentry to displaytheir prowess when they sallied forth after dinner, and as someinconvenience might be experienced in the event of their beingreduced to the necessity of pummelling each other, the inventor hadturned his attention to the construction of an entirely new policeforce, composed exclusively of automaton figures, which, with theassistance of the ingenious Signor Gagliardi, of Windmill-street, in the Haymarket, he had succeeded in making with such nicety, thata policeman, cab-driver, or old woman, made upon the principle ofthe models exhibited, would walk about until knocked down like anyreal man; nay, more, if set upon and beaten by six or eightnoblemen or gentlemen, after it was down, the figure would utterdivers groans, mingled with entreaties for mercy, thus renderingthe illusion complete, and the enjoyment perfect. But theinvention did not stop even here; for station-houses would bebuilt, containing good beds for noblemen and gentlemen during thenight, and in the morning they would repair to a commodious policeoffice, where a pantomimic investigation would take place beforethe automaton magistrates, --quite equal to life, --who would finethem in so many counters, with which they would be previouslyprovided for the purpose. This office would be furnished with aninclined plane, for the convenience of any nobleman or gentlemanwho might wish to bring in his horse as a witness; and theprisoners would be at perfect liberty, as they were now, tointerrupt the complainants as much as they pleased, and to make anyremarks that they thought proper. The charge for these amusementswould amount to very little more than they already cost, and theinventor submitted that the public would be much benefited andcomforted by the proposed arrangement. 

'PROFESSOR NOGO wished to be informed what amount of automatonpolice force it was proposed to raise in the first instance. 

'MR. COPPERNOSE replied, that it was proposed to begin with sevendivisions of police of a score each, lettered from A to Ginclusive. It was proposed that not more than half this numbershould be placed on active duty, and that the remainder should bekept on shelves in the police office ready to be called out at amoment's notice. 

'THE PRESIDENT, awarding the utmost merit to the ingeniousgentleman who had originated the idea, doubted whether theautomaton police would quite answer the purpose. He feared thatnoblemen and gentlemen would perhaps require the excitement ofthrashing living subjects. 

'MR. COPPERNOSE submitted, that as the usual odds in such caseswere ten noblemen or gentlemen to one policeman or cab-driver, itcould make very little difference in point of excitement whetherthe policeman or cab-driver were a man or a block. The greatadvantage would be, that a policeman's limbs might be all knockedoff, and yet he would be in a condition to do duty next day. Hemight even give his evidence next morning with his head in hishand, and give it equally well. 

'PROFESSOR MUFF. --Will you allow me to ask you, sir, of whatmaterials it is intended that the magistrates' heads shall becomposed?

'MR. COPPERNOSE. --The magistrates will have wooden heads of course, and they will be made of the toughest and thickest materials thatcan possibly be obtained. 

'PROFESSOR MUFF. --I am quite satisfied. This is a great invention. 

'PROFESSOR NOGO. --I see but one objection to it. It appears to methat the magistrates ought to talk. 

'MR. COPPERNOSE no sooner heard this suggestion than he touched asmall spring in each of the two models of magistrates which wereplaced upon the table; one of the figures immediately began toexclaim with great volubility that he was sorry to see gentlemen insuch a situation, and the other to express a fear that thepoliceman was intoxicated. 

'The section, as with one accord, declared with a shout of applausethat the invention was complete; and the President, much excited, retired with Mr. Coppernose to lay it before the council. On hisreturn, 'MR. TICKLE displayed his newly-invented spectacles, which enabledthe wearer to discern, in very bright colours, objects at a greatdistance, and rendered him wholly blind to those immediately beforehim. It was, he said, a most valuable and useful invention, basedstrictly upon the principle of the human eye. 

'THE PRESIDENT required some information upon this point. He hadyet to learn that the human eye was remarkable for thepeculiarities of which the honourable gentleman had spoken. 

'MR. TICKLE was rather astonished to hear this, when the Presidentcould not fail to be aware that a large number of most excellentpersons and great statesmen could see, with the naked eye, mostmarvellous horrors on West India plantations, while they coulddiscern nothing whatever in the interior of Manchester cottonmills. He must know, too, with what quickness of perception mostpeople could discover their neighbour's faults, and how very blindthey were to their own. If the President differed from the greatmajority of men in this respect, his eye was a defective one, andit was to assist his vision that these glasses were made. 

'MR. BLANK exhibited a model of a fashionable annual, composed ofcopper-plates, gold leaf, and silk boards, and worked entirely bymilk and water. 

'MR. PROSEE, after examining the machine, declared it to be soingeniously composed, that he was wholly unable to discover how itwent on at all. 

'MR. BLANK. --Nobody can, and that is the beauty of it. 

'SECTION C. --ANATOMY AND MEDICINE. BAR ROOM, BLACK BOY AND STOMACH-ACHE. 

President--Dr. Soemup. Vice-Presidents--Messrs. Pessell andMortair. 

'DR. GRUMMIDGE stated to the section a most interesting case ofmonomania, and described the course of treatment he had pursuedwith perfect success. The patient was a married lady in the middlerank of life, who, having seen another lady at an evening party ina full suit of pearls, was suddenly seized with a desire to possessa similar equipment, although her husband's finances were by nomeans equal to the necessary outlay. Finding her wish ungratified, she fell sick, and the symptoms soon became so alarming, that he(Dr. Grummidge) was called in. At this period the prominent tokensof the disorder were sullenness, a total indisposition to performdomestic duties, great peevishness, and extreme languor, exceptwhen pearls were mentioned, at which times the pulse quickened, theeyes grew brighter, the pupils dilated, and the patient, aftervarious incoherent exclamations, burst into a passion of tears, andexclaimed that nobody cared for her, and that she wished herselfdead. Finding that the patient's appetite was affected in thepresence of company, he began by ordering a total abstinence fromall stimulants, and forbidding any sustenance but weak gruel; hethen took twenty ounces of blood, applied a blister under each ear, one upon the chest, and another on the back; having done which, andadministered five grains of calomel, he left the patient to herrepose. The next day she was somewhat low, but decidedly better, and all appearances of irritation were removed. The next day sheimproved still further, and on the next again. On the fourth therewas some appearance of a return of the old symptoms, which nosooner developed themselves, than he administered another dose ofcalomel, and left strict orders that, unless a decidedly favourablechange occurred within two hours, the patient's head should beimmediately shaved to the very last curl. From that moment shebegan to mend, and, in less than four-and-twenty hours wasperfectly restored. She did not now betray the least emotion atthe sight or mention of pearls or any other ornaments. She wascheerful and good-humoured, and a most beneficial change had beeneffected in her whole temperament and condition. 

'MR. PIPKIN (M. R. C. S. ) read a short but most interestingcommunication in which he sought to prove the complete belief ofSir William Courtenay, otherwise Thorn, recently shot atCanterbury, in the Homoeopathic system. The section would bear inmind that one of the Homoeopathic doctrines was, that infinitesimaldoses of any medicine which would occasion the disease under whichthe patient laboured, supposing him to be in a healthy state, wouldcure it. Now, it was a remarkable circumstance--proved in theevidence--that the deceased Thorn employed a woman to follow himabout all day with a pail of water, assuring her that one drop (apurely homoeopathic remedy, the section would observe), placed uponhis tongue, after death, would restore him. What was the obviousinference? That Thorn, who was marching and countermarching inosier beds, and other swampy places, was impressed with apresentiment that he should be drowned; in which case, had hisinstructions been complied with, he could not fail to have beenbrought to life again instantly by his own prescription. As itwas, if this woman, or any other person, had administered aninfinitesimal dose of lead and gunpowder immediately after he fell, he would have recovered forthwith. But unhappily the womanconcerned did not possess the power of reasoning by analogy, orcarrying out a principle, and thus the unfortunate gentleman hadbeen sacrificed to the ignorance of the peasantry. 

'SECTION D. --STATISTICS. OUT-HOUSE, BLACK BOY AND STOMACH-ACHE. 

President--Mr. Slug. Vice-Presidents--Messrs. Noakes and Styles. 

'MR. KWAKLEY stated the result of some most ingenious statisticalinquiries relative to the difference between the value of thequalification of several members of Parliament as published to theworld, and its real nature and amount. After reminding the sectionthat every member of Parliament for a town or borough was supposedto possess a clear freehold estate of three hundred pounds perannum, the honourable gentleman excited great amusement andlaughter by stating the exact amount of freehold property possessedby a column of legislators, in which he had included himself. Itappeared from this table, that the amount of such income possessedby each was 0 pounds, 0 shillings, and 0 pence, yielding an averageof the same. (Great laughter. ) It was pretty well known that therewere accommodating gentlemen in the habit of furnishing new memberswith temporary qualifications, to the ownership of which they sworesolemnly--of course as a mere matter of form. He argued from thesedata that it was wholly unnecessary for members of Parliament topossess any property at all, especially as when they had none thepublic could get them so much cheaper. 

'SUPPLEMENTARY SECTION, E. --UMBUGOLOGY AND DITCHWATERISICS. 

President--Mr. Grub. Vice Presidents--Messrs. Dull and Dummy. 

'A paper was read by the secretary descriptive of a bay pony withone eye, which had been seen by the author standing in a butcher'scart at the corner of Newgate Market. The communication describedthe author of the paper as having, in the prosecution of amercantile pursuit, betaken himself one Saturday morning lastsummer from Somers Town to Cheapside; in the course of whichexpedition he had beheld the extraordinary appearance abovedescribed. The pony had one distinct eye, and it had been pointedout to him by his friend Captain Blunderbore, of the Horse Marines, who assisted the author in his search, that whenever he winked thiseye he whisked his tail (possibly to drive the flies off), but thathe always winked and whisked at the same time. The animal waslean, spavined, and tottering; and the author proposed toconstitute it of the family of Fitfordogsmeataurious. It certainlydid occur to him that there was no case on record of a pony withone clearly-defined and distinct organ of vision, winking andwhisking at the same moment. 

'MR. Q. J. SNUFFLETOFFLE had heard of a pony winking his eye, andlikewise of a pony whisking his tail, but whether they were twoponies or the same pony he could not undertake positively to say. At all events, he was acquainted with no authenticated instance ofa simultaneous winking and whisking, and he really could not butdoubt the existence of such a marvellous pony in opposition to allthose natural laws by which ponies were governed. Referring, however, to the mere question of his one organ of vision, might hesuggest the possibility of this pony having been literally halfasleep at the time he was seen, and having closed only one eye. 

'THE PRESIDENT observed that, whether the pony was half asleep orfast asleep, there could be no doubt that the association was wideawake, and therefore that they had better get the business over, and go to dinner. He had certainly never seen anything analogousto this pony, but he was not prepared to doubt its existence; forhe had seen many queerer ponies in his time, though he did notpretend to have seen any more remarkable donkeys than the othergentlemen around him. 

'PROFESSOR JOHN KETCH was then called upon to exhibit the skull ofthe late Mr. Greenacre, which he produced from a blue bag, remarking, on being invited to make any observations that occurredto him, "that he'd pound it as that 'ere 'spectable section hadnever seed a more gamerer cove nor he vos. "

'A most animated discussion upon this interesting relic ensued;and, some difference of opinion arising respecting the realcharacter of the deceased gentleman, Mr. Blubb delivered a lectureupon the cranium before him, clearly showing that Mr. Greenacrepossessed the organ of destructiveness to a most unusual extent, with a most remarkable development of the organ of carveativeness. Sir Hookham Snivey was proceeding to combat this opinion, whenProfessor Ketch suddenly interrupted the proceedings by exclaiming, with great excitement of manner, "Walker!"

'THE PRESIDENT begged to call the learned gentleman to order. 

'PROFESSOR KETCH. --"Order be blowed! you've got the wrong un, Itell you. It ain't no 'ed at all; it's a coker-nut as my brother-in-law has been a-carvin', to hornament his new baked tatur-stallwots a-comin' down 'ere vile the 'sociation's in the town. Handover, vill you?"

'With these words, Professor Ketch hastily repossessed himself ofthe cocoa-nut, and drew forth the skull, in mistake for which hehad exhibited it. A most interesting conversation ensued; but asthere appeared some doubt ultimately whether the skull was Mr. Greenacre's, or a hospital patient's, or a pauper's, or a man's, ora woman's, or a monkey's, no particular result was obtained. '

'I cannot, ' says our talented correspondent in conclusion, 'Icannot close my account of these gigantic researches and sublimeand noble triumphs without repeating a bon mot of ProfessorWoodensconce's, which shows how the greatest minds may occasionallyunbend when truth can be presented to listening ears, clothed in anattractive and playful form. I was standing by, when, after a weekof feasting and feeding, that learned gentleman, accompanied by thewhole body of wonderful men, entered the hall yesterday, where asumptuous dinner was prepared; where the richest wines sparkled onthe board, and fat bucks--propitiatory sacrifices to learning--sentforth their savoury odours. "Ah!" said Professor Woodensconce, rubbing his hands, "this is what we meet for; this is what inspiresus; this is what keeps us together, and beckons us onward; this isthe SPREAD of science, and a glorious spread it is. "'

THE PANTOMIME OF LIFE

Before we plunge headlong into this paper, let us at once confessto a fondness for pantomimes--to a gentle sympathy with clowns andpantaloons--to an unqualified admiration of harlequins andcolumbines--to a chaste delight in every action of their briefexistence, varied and many-coloured as those actions are, andinconsistent though they occasionally be with those rigid andformal rules of propriety which regulate the proceedings of meanerand less comprehensive minds. We revel in pantomimes--not becausethey dazzle one's eyes with tinsel and gold leaf; not because theypresent to us, once again, the well-beloved chalked faces, andgoggle eyes of our childhood; not even because, like Christmas-day, and Twelfth-night, and Shrove-Tuesday, and one's own birthday, theycome to us but once a year;--our attachment is founded on a graverand a very different reason. A pantomime is to us, a mirror oflife; nay, more, we maintain that it is so to audiences generally, although they are not aware of it, and that this very circumstanceis the secret cause of their amusement and delight. 

Let us take a slight example. The scene is a street: an elderlygentleman, with a large face and strongly marked features, appears. His countenance beams with a sunny smile, and a perpetual dimple ison his broad, red cheek. He is evidently an opulent elderlygentleman, comfortable in circumstances, and well-to-do in theworld. He is not unmindful of the adornment of his person, for heis richly, not to say gaudily, dressed; and that he indulges to areasonable extent in the pleasures of the table may be inferredfrom the joyous and oily manner in which he rubs his stomach, byway of informing the audience that he is going home to dinner. Inthe fulness of his heart, in the fancied security of wealth, in thepossession and enjoyment of all the good things of life, theelderly gentleman suddenly loses his footing, and stumbles. Howthe audience roar! He is set upon by a noisy and officious crowd, who buffet and cuff him unmercifully. They scream with delight!Every time the elderly gentleman struggles to get up, hisrelentless persecutors knock him down again. The spectators areconvulsed with merriment! And when at last the elderly gentlemandoes get up, and staggers away, despoiled of hat, wig, andclothing, himself battered to pieces, and his watch and money gone, they are exhausted with laughter, and express their merriment andadmiration in rounds of applause. 

Is this like life? Change the scene to any real street;--to theStock Exchange, or the City banker's; the merchant's counting-house, or even the tradesman's shop. See any one of these menfall, --the more suddenly, and the nearer the zenith of his prideand riches, the better. What a wild hallo is raised over hisprostrate carcase by the shouting mob; how they whoop and yell ashe lies humbled beneath them! Mark how eagerly they set upon himwhen he is down; and how they mock and deride him as he slinksaway. Why, it is the pantomime to the very letter. 

Of all the pantomimic dramatis personae, we consider the pantaloonthe most worthless and debauched. Independent of the dislike onenaturally feels at seeing a gentleman of his years engaged inpursuits highly unbecoming his gravity and time of life, we cannotconceal from ourselves the fact that he is a treacherous, worldly-minded old villain, constantly enticing his younger companion, theclown, into acts of fraud or petty larceny, and generally standingaside to watch the result of the enterprise. If it be successful, he never forgets to return for his share of the spoil; but if itturn out a failure, he generally retires with remarkable cautionand expedition, and keeps carefully aloof until the affair hasblown over. His amorous propensities, too, are eminentlydisagreeable; and his mode of addressing ladies in the open streetat noon-day is down-right improper, being usually neither more norless than a perceptible tickling of the aforesaid ladies in thewaist, after committing which, he starts back, manifestly ashamed(as well he may be) of his own indecorum and temerity; continuing, nevertheless, to ogle and beckon to them from a distance in a veryunpleasant and immoral manner. 

Is there any man who cannot count a dozen pantaloons in his ownsocial circle? Is there any man who has not seen them swarming atthe west end of the town on a sunshiny day or a summer's evening, going through the last-named pantomimic feats with as muchliquorish energy, and as total an absence of reserve, as if theywere on the very stage itself? We can tell upon our fingers adozen pantaloons of our acquaintance at this moment--capitalpantaloons, who have been performing all kinds of strange freaks, to the great amusement of their friends and acquaintance, for yearspast; and who to this day are making such comical and ineffectualattempts to be young and dissolute, that all beholders are like todie with laughter. 

Take that old gentleman who has just emerged from the Cafe del'Europe in the Haymarket, where he has been dining at the expenseof the young man upon town with whom he shakes hands as they partat the door of the tavern. The affected warmth of that shake ofthe hand, the courteous nod, the obvious recollection of thedinner, the savoury flavour of which still hangs upon his lips, areall characteristics of his great prototype. He hobbles awayhumming an opera tune, and twirling his cane to and fro, withaffected carelessness. Suddenly he stops--'tis at the milliner'swindow. He peeps through one of the large panes of glass; and, hisview of the ladies within being obstructed by the India shawls, directs his attentions to the young girl with the band-box in herhand, who is gazing in at the window also. See! he draws besideher. He coughs; she turns away from him. He draws near her again;she disregards him. He gleefully chucks her under the chin, and, retreating a few steps, nods and beckons with fantastic grimaces, while the girl bestows a contemptuous and supercilious look uponhis wrinkled visage. She turns away with a flounce, and the oldgentleman trots after her with a toothless chuckle. The pantaloonto the life!

 But the close resemblance which the clowns of the stage bear tothose of every-day life is perfectly extraordinary. Some peopletalk with a sigh of the decline of pantomime, and murmur in low anddismal tones the name of Grimaldi. We mean no disparagement to theworthy and excellent old man when we say that this is downrightnonsense. Clowns that beat Grimaldi all to nothing turn up everyday, and nobody patronizes them--more's the pity!

'I know who you mean, ' says some dirty-faced patron of Mr. Osbaldistone's, laying down the Miscellany when he has got thusfar, and bestowing upon vacancy a most knowing glance; 'you mean C. J. Smith as did Guy Fawkes, and George Barnwell at the Garden. 'The dirty-faced gentleman has hardly uttered the words, when he isinterrupted by a young gentleman in no shirt-collar and a Petershamcoat. 'No, no, ' says the young gentleman; 'he means Brown, King, and Gibson, at the 'Delphi. ' Now, with great deference both to thefirst-named gentleman with the dirty face, and the last-namedgentleman in the non-existing shirt-collar, we do NOT mean eitherthe performer who so grotesquely burlesqued the Popish conspirator, or the three unchangeables who have been dancing the same danceunder different imposing titles, and doing the same thing undervarious high-sounding names for some five or six years last past. We have no sooner made this avowal, than the public, who havehitherto been silent witnesses of the dispute, inquire what onearth it is we DO mean; and, with becoming respect, we proceed totell them. 

It is very well known to all playgoers and pantomime-seers, thatthe scenes in which a theatrical clown is at the very height of hisglory are those which are described in the play-bills as'Cheesemonger's shop and Crockery warehouse, ' or 'Tailor's shop, and Mrs. Queertable's boarding-house, ' or places bearing some suchtitle, where the great fun of the thing consists in the hero'staking lodgings which he has not the slightest intention of payingfor, or obtaining goods under false pretences, or abstracting thestock-in-trade of the respectable shopkeeper next door, or robbingwarehouse porters as they pass under his window, or, to shorten thecatalogue, in his swindling everybody he possibly can, it onlyremaining to be observed that, the more extensive the swindling is, and the more barefaced the impudence of the swindler, the greaterthe rapture and ecstasy of the audience. Now it is a mostremarkable fact that precisely this sort of thing occurs in reallife day after day, and nobody sees the humour of it. Let usillustrate our position by detailing the plot of this portion ofthe pantomime--not of the theatre, but of life. 

The Honourable Captain Fitz-Whisker Fiercy, attended by his liveryservant Do'em--a most respectable servant to look at, who has growngrey in the service of the captain's family--views, treats for, andultimately obtains possession of, the unfurnished house, such anumber, such a street. All the tradesmen in the neighbourhood arein agonies of competition for the captain's custom; the captain isa good-natured, kind-hearted, easy man, and, to avoid being thecause of disappointment to any, he most handsomely gives orders toall. Hampers of wine, baskets of provisions, cart-loads offurniture, boxes of jewellery, supplies of luxuries of thecostliest description, flock to the house of the Honourable CaptainFitz-Whisker Fiercy, where they are received with the utmostreadiness by the highly respectable Do'em; while the captainhimself struts and swaggers about with that compound air ofconscious superiority and general blood-thirstiness which amilitary captain should always, and does most times, wear, to theadmiration and terror of plebeian men. But the tradesmen's backsare no sooner turned, than the captain, with all the eccentricityof a mighty mind, and assisted by the faithful Do'em, whose devotedfidelity is not the least touching part of his character, disposesof everything to great advantage; for, although the articles fetchsmall sums, still they are sold considerably above cost price, thecost to the captain having been nothing at all. After variousmanoeuvres, the imposture is discovered, Fitz-Fiercy and Do'em arerecognized as confederates, and the police office to which they areboth taken is thronged with their dupes. 

Who can fail to recognize in this, the exact counterpart of thebest portion of a theatrical pantomime--Fitz-Whisker Fiercy by theclown; Do'em by the pantaloon; and supernumeraries by thetradesmen? The best of the joke, too, is, that the very coal-merchant who is loudest in his complaints against the person whodefrauded him, is the identical man who sat in the centre of thevery front row of the pit last night and laughed the mostboisterously at this very same thing, --and not so well done either. Talk of Grimaldi, we say again! Did Grimaldi, in his best days, ever do anything in this way equal to Da Costa?

The mention of this latter justly celebrated clown reminds us ofhis last piece of humour, the fraudulently obtaining certainstamped acceptances from a young gentleman in the army. We hadscarcely laid down our pen to contemplate for a few moments thisadmirable actor's performance of that exquisite practical joke, than a new branch of our subject flashed suddenly upon us. So wetake it up again at once. 

All people who have been behind the scenes, and most people whohave been before them, know, that in the representation of apantomime, a good many men are sent upon the stage for the expresspurpose of being cheated, or knocked down, or both. Now, down to amoment ago, we had never been able to understand for what possiblepurpose a great number of odd, lazy, large-headed men, whom one isin the habit of meeting here, and there, and everywhere, could everhave been created. We see it all, now. They are thesupernumeraries in the pantomime of life; the men who have beenthrust into it, with no other view than to be constantly tumblingover each other, and running their heads against all sorts ofstrange things. We sat opposite to one of these men at a supper-table, only last week. Now we think of it, he was exactly like thegentlemen with the pasteboard heads and faces, who do thecorresponding business in the theatrical pantomimes; there was thesame broad stolid simper--the same dull leaden eye--the sameunmeaning, vacant stare; and whatever was said, or whatever wasdone, he always came in at precisely the wrong place, or jostledagainst something that he had not the slightest business with. Welooked at the man across the table again and again; and could notsatisfy ourselves what race of beings to class him with. How veryodd that this never occurred to us before!

We will frankly own that we have been much troubled with theharlequin. We see harlequins of so many kinds in the real livingpantomime, that we hardly know which to select as the proper fellowof him of the theatres. At one time we were disposed to think thatthe harlequin was neither more nor less than a young man of familyand independent property, who had run away with an opera-dancer, and was fooling his life and his means away in light and trivialamusements. On reflection, however, we remembered that harlequinsare occasionally guilty of witty, and even clever acts, and we arerather disposed to acquit our young men of family and independentproperty, generally speaking, of any such misdemeanours. On a moremature consideration of the subject, we have arrived at theconclusion that the harlequins of life are just ordinary men, to befound in no particular walk or degree, on whom a certain station, or particular conjunction of circumstances, confers the magic wand. And this brings us to a few words on the pantomime of public andpolitical life, which we shall say at once, and then conclude--merely premising in this place that we decline any referencewhatever to the columbine, being in no wise satisfied of the natureof her connection with her parti-coloured lover, and not feeling byany means clear that we should be justified in introducing her tothe virtuous and respectable ladies who peruse our lucubrations. 

We take it that the commencement of a Session of Parliament isneither more nor less than the drawing up of the curtain for agrand comic pantomime, and that his Majesty's most gracious speechon the opening thereof may be not inaptly compared to the clown'sopening speech of 'Here we are!' 'My lords and gentlemen, here weare!' appears, to our mind at least, to be a very good abstract ofthe point and meaning of the propitiatory address of the ministry. When we remember how frequently this speech is made, immediatelyafter THE CHANGE too, the parallel is quite perfect, and still moresingular. 

Perhaps the cast of our political pantomime never was richer thanat this day. We are particularly strong in clowns. At no formertime, we should say, have we had such astonishing tumblers, orperformers so ready to go through the whole of their feats for theamusement of an admiring throng. Their extreme readiness toexhibit, indeed, has given rise to some ill-natured reflections; ithaving been objected that by exhibiting gratuitously through thecountry when the theatre is closed, they reduce themselves to thelevel of mountebanks, and thereby tend to degrade therespectability of the profession. Certainly Grimaldi never didthis sort of thing; and though Brown, King, and Gibson have gone tothe Surrey in vacation time, and Mr. C. J. Smith has ruralised atSadler's Wells, we find no theatrical precedent for a generaltumbling through the country, except in the gentleman, nameunknown, who threw summersets on behalf of the late Mr. Richardson, and who is no authority either, because he had never been on theregular boards. 

But, laying aside this question, which after all is a mere matterof taste, we may reflect with pride and gratification of heart onthe proficiency of our clowns as exhibited in the season. Nightafter night will they twist and tumble about, till two, three, andfour o'clock in the morning; playing the strangest antics, andgiving each other the funniest slaps on the face that can possiblybe imagined, without evincing the smallest tokens of fatigue. Thestrange noises, the confusion, the shouting and roaring, amid whichall this is done, too, would put to shame the most turbulentsixpenny gallery that ever yelled through a boxing-night. 

It is especially curious to behold one of these clowns compelled togo through the most surprising contortions by the irresistibleinfluence of the wand of office, which his leader or harlequinholds above his head. Acted upon by this wonderful charm he willbecome perfectly motionless, moving neither hand, foot, nor finger, and will even lose the faculty of speech at an instant's notice; oron the other hand, he will become all life and animation ifrequired, pouring forth a torrent of words without sense ormeaning, throwing himself into the wildest and most fantasticcontortions, and even grovelling on the earth and licking up thedust. These exhibitions are more curious than pleasing; indeed, they are rather disgusting than otherwise, except to the admirersof such things, with whom we confess we have no fellow-feeling. 

Strange tricks--very strange tricks--are also performed by theharlequin who holds for the time being the magic wand which we havejust mentioned. The mere waving it before a man's eyes willdispossess his brains of all the notions previously stored there, and fill it with an entirely new set of ideas; one gentle tap onthe back will alter the colour of a man's coat completely; andthere are some expert performers, who, having this wand held firston one side and then on the other, will change from side to side, turning their coats at every evolution, with so much rapidity anddexterity, that the quickest eye can scarcely detect their motions. Occasionally, the genius who confers the wand, wrests it from thehand of the temporary possessor, and consigns it to some newperformer; on which occasions all the characters change sides, andthen the race and the hard knocks begin anew. 

We might have extended this chapter to a much greater length--wemight have carried the comparison into the liberal professions--wemight have shown, as was in fact our original purpose, that each isin itself a little pantomime with scenes and characters of its own, complete; but, as we fear we have been quite lengthy enoughalready, we shall leave this chapter just where it is. Agentleman, not altogether unknown as a dramatic poet, wrote thus ayear or two ago -

'All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players:'

and we, tracking out his footsteps at the scarcely-worth-mentioninglittle distance of a few millions of leagues behind, venture toadd, by way of new reading, that he meant a Pantomime, and that weare all actors in The Pantomime of Life. 

SOME PARTICULARS CONCERNING A LION

We have a great respect for lions in the abstract. In common withmost other people, we have heard and read of many instances oftheir bravery and generosity. We have duly admired that heroicself-denial and charming philanthropy which prompts them never toeat people except when they are hungry, and we have been deeplyimpressed with a becoming sense of the politeness they are said todisplay towards unmarried ladies of a certain state. All naturalhistories teem with anecdotes illustrative of their excellentqualities; and one old spelling-book in particular recounts atouching instance of an old lion, of high moral dignity and sternprinciple, who felt it his imperative duty to devour a young manwho had contracted a habit of swearing, as a striking example tothe rising generation. 

All this is extremely pleasant to reflect upon, and, indeed, says avery great deal in favour of lions as a mass. We are bound tostate, however, that such individual lions as we have happened tofall in with have not put forth any very striking characteristics, and have not acted up to the chivalrous character assigned them bytheir chroniclers. We never saw a lion in what is called hisnatural state, certainly; that is to say, we have never met a lionout walking in a forest, or crouching in his lair under a tropicalsun, waiting till his dinner should happen to come by, hot from thebaker's. But we have seen some under the influence of captivity, and the pressure of misfortune; and we must say that they appearedto us very apathetic, heavy-headed fellows. 

The lion at the Zoological Gardens, for instance. He is all verywell; he has an undeniable mane, and looks very fierce; but, Lordbless us! what of that? The lions of the fashionable world lookjust as ferocious, and are the most harmless creatures breathing. A box-lobby lion or a Regent-street animal will put on a mostterrible aspect, and roar, fearfully, if you affront him; but hewill never bite, and, if you offer to attack him manfully, willfairly turn tail and sneak off. Doubtless these creatures roamabout sometimes in herds, and, if they meet any especially meek-looking and peaceably-disposed fellow, will endeavour to frightenhim; but the faintest show of a vigorous resistance is sufficientto scare them even then. These are pleasant characteristics, whereas we make it matter of distinct charge against the Zoologicallion and his brethren at the fairs, that they are sleepy, dreamy, sluggish quadrupeds. 

We do not remember to have ever seen one of them perfectly awake, except at feeding-time. In every respect we uphold the biped lionsagainst their four-footed namesakes, and we boldly challengecontroversy upon the subject. 

With these opinions it may be easily imagined that our curiosityand interest were very much excited the other day, when a lady ofour acquaintance called on us and resolutely declined to accept ourrefusal of her invitation to an evening party; 'for, ' said she, 'Ihave got a lion coming. ' We at once retracted our plea of a priorengagement, and became as anxious to go, as we had previously beento stay away. 

We went early, and posted ourselves in an eligible part of thedrawing-room, from whence we could hope to obtain a full view ofthe interesting animal. Two or three hours passed, the quadrillesbegan, the room filled; but no lion appeared. The lady of thehouse became inconsolable, --for it is one of the peculiarprivileges of these lions to make solemn appointments and neverkeep them, --when all of a sudden there came a tremendous double rapat the street-door, and the master of the house, after gliding out(unobserved as he flattered himself) to peep over the banisters, came into the room, rubbing his hands together with great glee, andcried out in a very important voice, 'My dear, Mr. --(naming thelion) has this moment arrived. '

Upon this, all eyes were turned towards the door, and we observedseveral young ladies, who had been laughing and conversingpreviously with great gaiety and good humour, grow extremely quietand sentimental; while some young gentlemen, who had been cuttinggreat figures in the facetious and small-talk way, suddenly sankvery obviously in the estimation of the company, and were lookedupon with great coldness and indifference. Even the young man whohad been ordered from the music shop to play the pianoforte wasvisibly affected, and struck several false notes in the excess ofhis excitement. 

All this time there was a great talking outside, more than onceaccompanied by a loud laugh, and a cry of 'Oh! capital! excellent!'from which we inferred that the lion was jocose, and that theseexclamations were occasioned by the transports of his keeper andour host. Nor were we deceived; for when the lion at lastappeared, we overheard his keeper, who was a little prim man, whisper to several gentlemen of his acquaintance, with upliftedhands, and every expression of half-suppressed admiration, that--(naming the lion again) was in SUCH cue to-night!

The lion was a literary one. Of course, there were a vast numberof people present who had admired his roarings, and were anxious tobe introduced to him; and very pleasant it was to see them broughtup for the purpose, and to observe the patient dignity with whichhe received all their patting and caressing. This brought forciblyto our mind what we had so often witnessed at country fairs, wherethe other lions are compelled to go through as many forms ofcourtesy as they chance to be acquainted with, just as often asadmiring parties happen to drop in upon them. 

While the lion was exhibiting in this way, his keeper was not idle, for he mingled among the crowd, and spread his praises mostindustriously. To one gentleman he whispered some very choicething that the noble animal had said in the very act of coming up-stairs, which, of course, rendered the mental effort still moreastonishing; to another he murmured a hasty account of a granddinner that had taken place the day before, where twenty-sevengentlemen had got up all at once to demand an extra cheer for thelion; and to the ladies he made sundry promises of interceding toprocure the majestic brute's sign-manual for their albums. Then, there were little private consultations in different corners, relative to the personal appearance and stature of the lion;whether he was shorter than they had expected to see him, ortaller, or thinner, or fatter, or younger, or older; whether he waslike his portrait, or unlike it; and whether the particular shadeof his eyes was black, or blue, or hazel, or green, or yellow, ormixture. At all these consultations the keeper assisted; and, inshort, the lion was the sole and single subject of discussion tillthey sat him down to whist, and then the people relapsed into theirold topics of conversation--themselves and each other. 

We must confess that we looked forward with no slight impatience tothe announcement of supper; for if you wish to see a tame lionunder particularly favourable circumstances, feeding-time is theperiod of all others to pitch upon. We were therefore very muchdelighted to observe a sensation among the guests, which we wellknew how to interpret, and immediately afterwards to behold thelion escorting the lady of the house down-stairs. We offered ourarm to an elderly female of our acquaintance, who--dear old soul!--is the very best person that ever lived, to lead down to any meal;for, be the room ever so small, or the party ever so large, she issure, by some intuitive perception of the eligible, to push andpull herself and conductor close to the best dishes on the table;--we say we offered our arm to this elderly female, and, descendingthe stairs shortly after the lion, were fortunate enough to obtaina seat nearly opposite him. 

Of course the keeper was there already. He had planted himself atprecisely that distance from his charge which afforded him a decentpretext for raising his voice, when he addressed him, to so loud akey, as could not fail to attract the attention of the wholecompany, and immediately began to apply himself seriously to thetask of bringing the lion out, and putting him through the whole ofhis manoeuvres. Such flashes of wit as he elicited from the lion!First of all, they began to make puns upon a salt-cellar, and thenupon the breast of a fowl, and then upon the trifle; but the bestjokes of all were decidedly on the lobster salad, upon which lattersubject the lion came out most vigorously, and, in the opinion ofthe most competent authorities, quite outshone himself. This is avery excellent mode of shining in society, and is founded, wehumbly conceive, upon the classic model of the dialogues betweenMr. Punch and his friend the proprietor, wherein the latter takesall the up-hill work, and is content to pioneer to the jokes andrepartees of Mr. P. Himself, who never fails to gain great creditand excite much laughter thereby. Whatever it be founded on, however, we recommend it to all lions, present and to come; for inthis instance it succeeded to admiration, and perfectly dazzled thewhole body of hearers. 

When the salt-cellar, and the fowl's breast, and the trifle, andthe lobster salad were all exhausted, and could not affordstanding-room for another solitary witticism, the keeper performedthat very dangerous feat which is still done with some of thecaravan lions, although in one instance it terminated fatally, ofputting his head in the animal's mouth, and placing himselfentirely at its mercy. Boswell frequently presents a melancholyinstance of the lamentable results of this achievement, and otherkeepers and jackals have been terribly lacerated for their daring. It is due to our lion to state, that he condescended to be trifledwith, in the most gentle manner, and finally went home with theshowman in a hack cab: perfectly peaceable, but slightly fuddled. 

Being in a contemplative mood, we were led to make some reflectionsupon the character and conduct of this genus of lions as we walkedhomewards, and we were not long in arriving at the conclusion thatour former impression in their favour was very much strengthenedand confirmed by what we had recently seen. While the other lionsreceive company and compliments in a sullen, moody, not to saysnarling manner, these appear flattered by the attentions that arepaid them; while those conceal themselves to the utmost of theirpower from the vulgar gaze, these court the popular eye, and, unlike their brethren, whom nothing short of compulsion will moveto exertion, are ever ready to display their acquirements to thewondering throng. We have known bears of undoubted ability who, when the expectations of a large audience have been wound up to theutmost pitch, have peremptorily refused to dance; well-taughtmonkeys, who have unaccountably objected to exhibit on the slackwire; and elephants of unquestioned genius, who have suddenlydeclined to turn the barrel-organ; but we never once knew or heardof a biped lion, literary or otherwise, --and we state it as a factwhich is highly creditable to the whole species, --who, occasionoffering, did not seize with avidity on any opportunity which wasafforded him, of performing to his heart's content on the firstviolin. 

MR. ROBERT BOLTON: THE 'GENTLEMAN CONNECTED WITH THE PRESS'

In the parlour of the Green Dragon, a public-house in the immediateneighbourhood of Westminster Bridge, everybody talks politics, every evening, the great political authority being Mr. RobertBolton, an individual who defines himself as 'a gentleman connectedwith the press, ' which is a definition of peculiar indefiniteness. Mr. Robert Bolton's regular circle of admirers and listeners are anundertaker, a greengrocer, a hairdresser, a baker, a large stomachsurmounted by a man's head, and placed on the top of twoparticularly short legs, and a thin man in black, name, profession, and pursuit unknown, who always sits in the same position, alwaysdisplays the same long, vacant face, and never opens his lips, surrounded as he is by most enthusiastic conversation, except topuff forth a volume of tobacco smoke, or give vent to a verysnappy, loud, and shrill HEM! The conversation sometimes turnsupon literature, Mr. Bolton being a literary character, and alwaysupon such news of the day as is exclusively possessed by thattalented individual. I found myself (of course, accidentally) inthe Green Dragon the other evening, and, being somewhat amused bythe following conversation, preserved it. 

'Can you lend me a ten-pound note till Christmas?' inquired thehairdresser of the stomach. 

'Where's your security, Mr. Clip?'

'My stock in trade, --there's enough of it, I'm thinking, Mr. Thicknesse. Some fifty wigs, two poles, half-a-dozen head blocks, and a dead Bruin. '

'No, I won't, then, ' growled out Thicknesse. 'I lends nothing onthe security of the whigs or the Poles either. As for whigs, they're cheats; as for the Poles, they've got no cash. I neverhave nothing to do with blockheads, unless I can't awoid it(ironically), and a dead bear's about as much use to me as I couldbe to a dead bear. '

'Well, then, ' urged the other, 'there's a book as belonged to Pope, Byron's Poems, valued at forty pounds, because it's got Pope'sidentical scratch on the back; what do you think of that forsecurity?'

'Well, to be sure!' cried the baker. 'But how d'ye mean, Mr. Clip?'

'Mean! why, that it's got the hottergruff of Pope. 

"Steal not this book, for fear of hangman's rope;For it belongs to Alexander Pope. "

All that's written on the inside of the binding of the book; so, asmy son says, we're BOUND to believe it. '

'Well, sir, ' observed the undertaker, deferentially, and in a half-whisper, leaning over the table, and knocking over thehairdresser's grog as he spoke, 'that argument's very easy upset. '

'Perhaps, sir, ' said Clip, a little flurried, 'you'll pay for thefirst upset afore you thinks of another. '

'Now, ' said the undertaker, bowing amicably to the hairdresser, 'ITHINK, I says I THINK--you'll excuse me, Mr. Clip, I THINK, yousee, that won't go down with the present company--unfortunately, mymaster had the honour of making the coffin of that ere Lord'shousemaid, not no more nor twenty year ago. Don't think I'm proudon it, gentlemen; others might be; but I hate rank of any sort. I've no more respect for a Lord's footman than I have for anyrespectable tradesman in this room. I may say no more nor I havefor Mr. Clip! (bowing). Therefore, that ere Lord must have beenborn long after Pope died. And it's a logical interference todefer, that they neither of them lived at the same time. So what Imean is this here, that Pope never had no book, never seed, felt, never smelt no book (triumphantly) as belonged to that ere Lord. And, gentlemen, when I consider how patiently you have 'eared theideas what I have expressed, I feel bound, as the best way toreward you for the kindness you have exhibited, to sit down withoutsaying anything more--partickler as I perceive a worthier visitornor myself is just entered. I am not in the habit of payingcompliments, gentlemen; when I do, therefore, I hope I strikes withdouble force. '

'Ah, Mr. Murgatroyd! what's all this about striking with doubleforce?' said the object of the above remark, as he entered. 'Inever excuse a man's getting into a rage during winter, even whenhe's seated so close to the fire as you are. It is veryinjudicious to put yourself into such a perspiration. What is thecause of this extreme physical and mental excitement, sir?'

Such was the very philosophical address of Mr. Robert Bolton, ashorthand-writer, as he termed himself--a bit of equivoque passingcurrent among his fraternity, which must give the uninitiated avast idea of the establishment of the ministerial organ, while tothe initiated it signifies that no one paper can lay claim to theenjoyment of their services. Mr. Bolton was a young man, with asomewhat sickly and very dissipated expression of countenance. Hishabiliments were composed of an exquisite union of gentility, slovenliness, assumption, simplicity, NEWNESS, and old age. Halfof him was dressed for the winter, the other half for the summer. His hat was of the newest cut, the D'Orsay; his trousers had beenwhite, but the inroads of mud and ink, etc. , had given them a pie-bald appearance; round his throat he wore a very high black cravat, of the most tyrannical stiffness; while his tout ensemble washidden beneath the enormous folds of an old brown poodle-collaredgreat-coat, which was closely buttoned up to the aforesaid cravat. His fingers peeped through the ends of his black kid gloves, andtwo of the toes of each foot took a similar view of society throughthe extremities of his high-lows. Sacred to the bare walls of hisgarret be the mysteries of his interior dress! He was a short, spare man, of a somewhat inferior deportment. Everybody seemedinfluenced by his entry into the room, and his salutation of eachmember partook of the patronizing. The hairdresser made way forhim between himself and the stomach. A minute afterwards he hadtaken possession of his pint and pipe. A pause in the conversationtook place. Everybody was waiting, anxious for his firstobservation. 

'Horrid murder in Westminster this morning, ' observed Mr. Bolton. 

Everybody changed their positions. All eyes were fixed upon theman of paragraphs. 

'A baker murdered his son by boiling him in a copper, ' said Mr. Bolton. 

'Good heavens!' exclaimed everybody, in simultaneous horror. 

'Boiled him, gentlemen!' added Mr. Bolton, with the most effectiveemphasis; 'BOILED him!'

'And the particulars, Mr. B. , ' inquired the hairdresser, 'theparticulars?'

Mr. Bolton took a very long draught of porter, and some two orthree dozen whiffs of tobacco, doubtless to instil into thecommercial capacities of the company the superiority of a gentlemenconnected with the press, and then said -

'The man was a baker, gentlemen. ' (Every one looked at the bakerpresent, who stared at Bolton. ) 'His victim, being his son, alsowas necessarily the son of a baker. The wretched murderer had awife, whom he was frequently in the habit, while in an intoxicatedstate, of kicking, pummelling, flinging mugs at, knocking down, andhalf-killing while in bed, by inserting in her mouth a considerableportion of a sheet or blanket. '

The speaker took another draught, everybody looked at everybodyelse, and exclaimed, 'Horrid!'

'It appears in evidence, gentlemen, ' continued Mr. Bolton, 'that, on the evening of yesterday, Sawyer the baker came home in areprehensible state of beer. Mrs. S. , connubially considerate, carried him in that condition up-stairs into his chamber, andconsigned him to their mutual couch. In a minute or two she laysleeping beside the man whom the morrow's dawn beheld a murderer!'(Entire silence informed the reporter that his picture had attainedthe awful effect he desired. ) 'The son came home about an hourafterwards, opened the door, and went up to bed. Scarcely(gentlemen, conceive his feelings of alarm), scarcely had he takenoff his indescribables, when shrieks (to his experienced earMATERNAL shrieks) scared the silence of surrounding night. He puthis indescribables on again, and ran down-stairs. He opened thedoor of the parental bed-chamber. His father was dancing upon hismother. What must have been his feelings! In the agony of theminute he rushed at his male parent as he was about to plunge aknife into the side of his female. The mother shrieked. Thefather caught the son (who had wrested the knife from the paternalgrasp) up in his arms, carried him down-stairs, shoved him into acopper of boiling water among some linen, closed the lid, andjumped upon the top of it, in which position he was found with aferocious countenance by the mother, who arrived in the melancholywash-house just as he had so settled himself. 

'"Where's my boy?" shrieked the mother. 

'"In that copper, boiling, " coolly replied the benign father. 

'Struck by the awful intelligence, the mother rushed from thehouse, and alarmed the neighbourhood. The police entered a minuteafterwards. The father, having bolted the wash-house door, hadbolted himself. They dragged the lifeless body of the boiled bakerfrom the cauldron, and, with a promptitude commendable in men oftheir station, they immediately carried it to the station-house. Subsequently, the baker was apprehended while seated on the top ofa lamp-post in Parliament Street, lighting his pipe. '

The whole horrible ideality of the Mysteries of Udolpho, condensedinto the pithy effect of a ten-line paragraph, could not possiblyhave so affected the narrator's auditory. Silence, the purest andmost noble of all kinds of applause, bore ample testimony to thebarbarity of the baker, as well as to Bolton's knack of narration;and it was only broken after some minutes had elapsed byinterjectional expressions of the intense indignation of every manpresent. The baker wondered how a British baker could so disgracehimself and the highly honourable calling to which he belonged; andthe others indulged in a variety of wonderments connected with thesubject; among which not the least wonderment was that which wasawakened by the genius and information of Mr. Robert Bolton, who, after a glowing eulogium on himself, and his unspeakable influencewith the daily press, was proceeding, with a most solemncountenance, to hear the pros and cons of the Pope autographquestion, when I took up my hat, and left. 

FAMILIAR EPISTLE FROM A PARENT TO A CHILD AGED TWO YEARS AND TWOMONTHS

MY CHILD, To recount with what trouble I have brought you up--with what ananxious eye I have regarded your progress, --how late and how oftenI have sat up at night working for you, --and how many thousandletters I have received from, and written to your various relationsand friends, many of whom have been of a querulous and irritableturn, --to dwell on the anxiety and tenderness with which I have (asfar as I possessed the power) inspected and chosen your food;rejecting the indigestible and heavy matter which some injudiciousbut well-meaning old ladies would have had you swallow, andretaining only those light and pleasant articles which I deemedcalculated to keep you free from all gross humours, and to renderyou an agreeable child, and one who might be popular with societyin general, --to dilate on the steadiness with which I haveprevented your annoying any company by talking politics--alwaysassuring you that you would thank me for it yourself some day whenyou grew older, --to expatiate, in short, upon my own assiduity as aparent, is beside my present purpose, though I cannot butcontemplate your fair appearance--your robust health, and unimpededcirculation (which I take to be the great secret of your goodlooks) without the liveliest satisfaction and delight. 

It is a trite observation, and one which, young as you are, I haveno doubt you have often heard repeated, that we have fallen uponstrange times, and live in days of constant shiftings and changes. I had a melancholy instance of this only a week or two since. Iwas returning from Manchester to London by the Mail Train, when Isuddenly fell into another train--a mixed train--of reflection, occasioned by the dejected and disconsolate demeanour of the Post-Office Guard. We were stopping at some station where they take inwater, when he dismounted slowly from the little box in which hesits in ghastly mockery of his old condition with pistol andblunderbuss beside him, ready to shoot the first highwayman (orrailwayman) who shall attempt to stop the horses, which now travel(when they travel at all) INSIDE and in a portable stable inventedfor the purpose, --he dismounted, I say, slowly and sadly, from hispost, and looking mournfully about him as if in dismal recollectionof the old roadside public-house the blazing fire--the glass offoaming ale--the buxom handmaid and admiring hangers-on of tap-roomand stable, all honoured by his notice; and, retiring a littleapart, stood leaning against a signal-post, surveying the enginewith a look of combined affliction and disgust which no words candescribe. His scarlet coat and golden lace were tarnished withignoble smoke; flakes of soot had fallen on his bright green shawl--his pride in days of yore--the steam condensed in the tunnel fromwhich we had just emerged, shone upon his hat like rain. His eyebetokened that he was thinking of the coachman; and as it wanderedto his own seat and his own fast-fading garb, it was plain to seethat he felt his office and himself had alike no business there, and were nothing but an elaborate practical joke. 

As we whirled away, I was led insensibly into an anticipation ofthose days to come, when mail-coach guards shall no longer bejudges of horse-flesh--when a mail-coach guard shall never evenhave seen a horse--when stations shall have superseded stables, andcorn shall have given place to coke. 'In those dawning times, 'thought I, 'exhibition-rooms shall teem with portraits of HerMajesty's favourite engine, with boilers after Nature by futureLandseers. Some Amburgh, yet unborn, shall break wild horses byhis magic power; and in the dress of a mail-coach guard exhibit hisTRAINED ANIMALS in a mock mail-coach. Then, shall wondering crowdsobserve how that, with the exception of his whip, it is all hiseye; and crowned heads shall see them fed on oats, and stand aloneunmoved and undismayed, while counters flee affrighted when thecoursers neigh!'

Such, my child, were the reflections from which I was only awakenedthen, as I am now, by the necessity of attending to matters ofpresent though minor importance. I offer no apology to you for thedigression, for it brings me very naturally to the subject ofchange, which is the very subject of which I desire to treat. 

In fact, my child, you have changed hands. Henceforth I resign youto the guardianship and protection of one of my most intimate andvalued friends, Mr. Ainsworth, with whom, and with you, my bestwishes and warmest feelings will ever remain. I reap no gain orprofit by parting from you, nor will any conveyance of yourproperty be required, for, in this respect, you have always beenliterally 'Bentley's' Miscellany, and never mine. 

Unlike the driver of the old Manchester mail, I regard this alteredstate of things with feelings of unmingled pleasure andsatisfaction. 

Unlike the guard of the new Manchester mail, YOUR guard is at homein his new place, and has roystering highwaymen and gallantdesperadoes ever within call. And if I might compare you, mychild, to an engine; (not a Tory engine, nor a Whig engine, but abrisk and rapid locomotive;) your friends and patrons topassengers; and he who now stands towards you in loco parentis asthe skilful engineer and supervisor of the whole, I would humblycrave leave to postpone the departure of the train on its new andauspicious course for one brief instant, while, with hat in hand, Iapproach side by side with the friend who travelled with me on theold road, and presume to solicit favour and kindness in behalf ofhim and his new charge, both for their sakes and that of the oldcoachman, Boz. 

Footnotes:

{1} This paper was written before the practice of exhibitingMembers of Parliament, like other curiosities, for the small chargeof half-a-crown, was abolished. 

{2} The regulations of the prison relative to the confinement ofprisoners during the day, their sleeping at night, their takingtheir meals, and other matters of gaol economy, have been allaltered-greatly for the better--since this sketch was firstpublished. Even the construction of the prison itself has beenchanged. 

{3} These two men were executed shortly afterwards. The other wasrespited during his Majesty's pleasure.