MISCELLANIES, IN VERSE AND PROSE. (continued 5)

"'Really,' said I, 'I thought you were playing me a trick, and I could not bear your having the laugh against me, and so I certainly did venture just to ascertain——'

"'Ascertain!' cried the landlady; 'that's just the very thing you ought upon no consideration whatever to have done. Did I not tell you the lady was an invalid? Oh! Mr. Daly, Mr. Daly! I believe you are the d——'

"'——evil be, ma'am,' said I, interrupting her, 'to him who evil thinks. I meant no harm, and——'

"'You might have ruined me, sir,' said mine hostess.

"'Might I?' said I; 'when?'

"'This very night, sir,' said she; 'this very hour. Why, what would have been thought of me and my house, if it had been known that I had allowed you to sleep in that room? Nobody would have believed that I did it out of pure regard for your comfort, tired and knocked up as you were, and because I had not a hole or corner besides into which you could have poked yourself: however, it will be a lesson for me another time; and now, Mr. Daly, if you will take my advice,—the lads are getting up in the yard,—you will let me order out a chaise and pair, and go on to Guildford, where, I have no doubt, they have plenty of beds, and where you may get some comfortable rest; and as the brother of the lady in No. 3 is sleeping here to-night, something unpleasant to all parties might happen in the morning, and you would do me a very great favour if you would go.'

"I felt considerably inclined, for many reasons, to accede to what appeared the very reasonable desire of mine hostess: first of all, I might do her a mischief by staying; in the second place, the lady might complain to her brother; in the third place, the White Hart at Guildford was a remarkably good inn; and a well-made bed, and a well-warmed bed-room, would be extremely comfortable by comparison with the chilly atmosphere and the chair-slumber of the parlour behind the bar at Ripley. To Guildford I must eventually proceed,—and why not now? So, with the best possible grace, I told mine hostess that I was at her command, and begged of her to dispose of me as she thought fit.

"I paid her liberally for the horses, the repast, and the portion of my night's rest which I ought to have had; and when I stepped into the 'yellow and two,' I shook hands with her, and she gave me a look as much as to say, again and again, 'Daly, Daly! you are not to be trusted.'

"Well, sir, away I went, glasses rattling, and wind whistling (a short stage, you know); and, before four, we reached the White Hart. I had forestalled my Guildford sleep in the chaise; however, we soon made them hear at the inn, and in less than three quarters of an hour I was again rolled up in the sheets, having before I went to bed written a note to my servant at Wrigglesworth, which I desired might be sent off early in the morning, directing him, after leaving word with Sir Marmaduke's man that I was alive, if not merry, to come to me with my clothes and other requisites for dressing by ten o'clock; and certainly, I must say, I never did enjoy my rest and quietness so entirely and completely as upon that particular occasion. Instead of ten o'clock—having desired that I might not be disturbed—I did not awake until past noon, and then regretted that my balmy comfort had been broken in upon.

"From my servant, when I saw him, I learned that my friends at Wrigglesworth had really expressed great anxiety on my account, which did not displease me,—I rather like to create an effect,—but I did not hear that my dear Lady Wrigglesworth had either absented herself from dinner or disappeared for the evening in consequence of my absence, which I confess mortified my vanity a little. I dressed, and having ensconced myself in the drawing-room of the White Hart, the walls of which apartment were most constitutionally decorated with loyal and orthodox prints, and which immediately faces the Gothic House, I delighted myself by watching the movements of two uncommonly pretty girls in the said antiquated edifice, who appeared to be in full possession, in the absence, as I surmised, of some greater, and probably graver, personages.

"After breakfast I strolled out. I like Guildford: it is a nice, clean, handsome, healthy town; the hill in the street I admit to be a nuisance; the alternation between climbing up and sliding down is tiresome, and even dangerous. These little objections did not affect me—nothing affects me when I am on the hunt for subjects—so away I went—smack bang into a Quaker's shop to buy myself a pair of gloves—and there—there I saw what I had never before seen—two Quaker children playing about the place, thee'ing and thou'ing each other with perfect French familiarity. Now, do you know," continued Daly, "it is quite worthy of remark,—that nobody—always, I presume, excepting Quakers themselves—has ever seen a Quaker baby in arms, a Quaker lady enceinte, or a Quaker gentleman with a wooden leg—eh? I like these statistical speculations. So, having bought my gloves, I returned to 'mine inn,' about one, intending forthwith to proceed to Wrigglesworth.

"Just as I reached the door of the White Hart, and just as my man was bringing out my horses, my eye was attracted by a funeral procession, consisting merely of a hearse, one mourning coach, and a private carriage, which had halted before the door; two persons who had occupied the coach having entered the house while fresh horses were put to the three vehicles. A natural and not very blameable curiosity prompted me to ask a jolly, merry-looking undertaker, whose funeral it was, whither they were going, and whence they had come?

"'Why, sir,' said the man, 'what you see here isn't the regular job as I hopes to turn it out at Chichester next Tuesday, which is the day fixed for the interment of the corpse. Short notice, you see, sir; could not do everything in a minute, sir.'

"'What is the name of the——?' I hesitatingly asked.

"'Miss Barmingfield, sir,' said the man, 'is the name of the corpse. Poor young lady, it was as well as you and me three days ago, and was a coming down to Chichester to spend a month with its mother; when, just in a minute, it was taken ill at Ripley, and out it went for all the world like the snuff of a candle.'

"'At Ripley!' said I; 'did she live at Ripley?'

"'No, sir, she didn't,' said the undertaker; 'you'll excuse me—she died there.'

"'But she must have lived there first, I presume,' said I, rather angrily; for a joker hates to be joked upon.

"'A very short time indeed,' said the jolly undertaker. 'She arrived at the Talbot the day before yesterday, about twelve o'clock, in high health, and by six at night, as I said afore, she was a corpse.'

"'At the Talbot!' said I. 'And are you bringing the body from the Talbot now?'

"'Yes, sir,' said the man; 'on our way to Chichester. We could not move her, poor dear young lady, afore, because I couldn't get things ready till this morning.'

"'Pray,' said I, with a degree of agitation which evidently astonished my companion in the crape, 'where—in what part of the Talbot at Ripley did the young lady die?'

"'In Number 3; that 'ere double-bedded room right over the gateway,' said the man. 'We only packed her up this morning.'

"My dear Gurney, you may easily imagine what my feelings were. Only conceive the idea of having been turned into a double-bedded room in the dark with a dead woman! It was lucky that the horses were pronounced ready, and that Major Barmingfield, whose residence at Ripley mine hostess had so truly announced, made his appearance just at the moment that the undertaker had enlightened me on the subject. I felt a mingled sensation of horror at the event, of joy at my escape from the place where it occurred, and of repentance for my misconduct towards my landlady, who had so good-naturedly strained a point for my accommodation, which nearly overset me; and I have not a notion what I should have done, had it not been that the coldness of the weather afforded me an excuse for drinking off a glass of brandy, and the lateness of the hour forced me to mount my nag and begin my canter to Wrigglesworth forthwith."

A VISIT TO THE OLD BAILEY.

As I entered the Court, a case of some importance had terminated, and the judge just concluded his summing up, when the clerk of the arraigns put the customary question to the jury, "How say ye, gentlemen—is the prisoner at the bar guilty or not guilty?" Upon which the jurymen laid their heads together, and I heard something in a whisper from their foreman, who immediately pronounced the agreeable verdict, "Not guilty." The prisoner bowed gracefully—he was a pickpocket—and retired.

The prompt decision of the jury convinced me that it must have been a clear case; and I rejoiced at the departure of the now exonerated sufferer.

"That's a reg'lar rascal," said the sheriff to me in a whisper; "never was such a case heard on, to be sure—seventeen watches, thirty-two pocket handkerchiefs, four pair of spectacles, and five snuff-boxes, all found upon his person!"

"Yet," said I, "the evidence could not have been very strong against him—the jury acquitted him after a minute's consultation."

"Evidence, Mr. Gurney!" said the sheriff, "how little do you know of the Old Bailey!—why, if these London juries were to wait to consider evidence, we never should get through the business—the way we do here is to make a zig-zag of it."

I did not exactly comprehend the term as it was now applied, although Daly had often used it in my society with reference to a pin and a card universally employed at the interesting game of rouge et noir; and I therefore made no scruple of expressing my ignorance.

"Don't you understand, sir?" said the sheriff—"why, the next prisoner will be found guilty—the last was acquitted—the one after the next will be acquitted too—it comes alternate like—save half, convict half—that's what we call a zig-zag; and taking the haggregate, it comes to the same pint, and I think justice is done as fair here as in any court in Christendom."

This explanation rendered the next prisoner who made his appearance an object of considerable interest to me. He was a little dirty boy, who stood charged with having stolen a pound of bacon and a peg-top from a boy somewhat his junior. The young prosecutor produced a witness, who, as far as appearances went, might, without any great injustice, have taken the place of the prisoner, and who gave his evidence with considerable fluency and flippancy. His manner attracted the notice of one of the leading barristers of the court, Mr. Flappertrap, who, in cross-examining him, inquired whether he knew the nature of an oath.

"Yes, I does," said the boy.

"Explain it," said Flappertrap.

"You may be d——d," replied the lad; "that's a hoath, arn't it?"

"What does he say?" said the judge—who, as I about this period discovered, was as deaf as a post.

"He says, 'You may be d——d,' my lord," said Flappertrap, who appeared particularly glad of an opportunity to borrow a phrase, which he might use for the occasion.

"What does he mean by that?" said the judge. That is the way, my lord, he exhibits his knowledge of the nature of an oath."

"Pah! pah!" said the judge—"Boy, d'ye hear me?"

"Yes," said the boy, "I hears."

"Have you ever been to school?"

"Yes," said the boy, "in St. Giles's parish for three years."

"Do you know your catechism?"

The boy muttered something which was not audible to the court generally, and was utterly lost upon the judge personally.

"What does he say?" said his lordship.

"Speak up, sir," said Mr. Flappertrap.

The boy muttered again, looking down and seeming embarrassed.

"Speak louder, sir," said another barrister, whose name I did not know, but who was remarkable for a most unequivocal obliquity of vision—"speak to his lordship—look at him—look as I do, sir."

"I can't," said the boy, "you squints!"

A laugh followed this bit of naïvete, which greatly abashed the counsellor, and somewhat puzzled the judge.

"What does he say?" said his lordship.

"He says he knows his catechism, my lord."

"Oh—does not know his catechism—why then, what—"

"Does know, my lord," whispered the lord mayor, who was in the chair.

"Oh—ah—does know—I know—here, boy," said his lordship, "you know your catechism, do you?"

"Yes," replied he, sullenly.

"We'll see, then—what is your name?" said his lordship.

"My name," said the intelligent lad—"what, in the catechism?"

"Yes, what is your name?"

"M. or N. as the case may be," said the boy.

"Go down, go down," said the judge, angrily, and down he went.

"Gentlemen of the jury," said his lordship, "this case will require very little of your attention—the only evidence against the prisoner at the bar which goes to fasten the crime upon him, is that which has been offered by the last witness, who evidently is ignorant of the nature and obligation of an oath. With respect to the pig's toes which the prisoner stands charged with stealing——"

"A peg-top, my lord!" said Flappertrap, standing up, turning round, and speaking over the bench into the judge's ears.

"Peg-top," said his lordship—"oh—ah—I see—very bad pen—it looks in my notes like pig's toes. Well—peg-top—of the peg-top which it is alleged he took from the prosecutor, there has not been one syllable mentioned by the prosecutor himself; nor do I see that the charge of taking the bacon is by any means proved. There is no point for me to direct your attention to, and you will say whether the prisoner at the bar is guilty or not; and a very trumpery case it is altogether, that I must admit."

His lordship ceased, and the jury again laid their heads together; again the foreman gave the little "hem" of conscious readiness for decision; again did the clerk of the arraigns ask the important question, "How say ye, gentlemen, is the prisoner at the bar guilty or not guilty?" "Guilty," said the foreman to the clerk of the arraigns; and "I told you so," said the sheriff to me.

The next case was a short one. The prisoner a woman, the evidence clear and straightforward; but no great interest was excited, because it was known that the case, for the trial of which in point of fact the learned judge had, for particular reasons, given his attendance, and which accounted for his lordship's presence at the close of the session, was very speedily to come on. This extraordinary combination of circumstances afforded me the most favourable opportunity of seeing all the sights of this half awful, half amusing scene, even to the discharge of the grand jury, who had been specially kept together for the purpose of finding or ignoring the bill preferred against the eminent culprit, who was evidently the great attraction of the day—having found which, they had but three more to decide upon.

It was in the middle of the defence of the female prisoner, now "coram nobis," and just as she was making a beautiful but useless appeal to the "gentlemen of the jury," that a bustle in the court announced some coming event.

"I am," said the weeping prisoner, "an orphan—I lost my mother while I was yet a child—my father married again, and I was driven from what had been before a happy home—I have only to pray——"

Bang went a door—the scuffle of feet were heard—down went some benches—"Make way—make way!" cried some of the officers. "Stand back, sir, stand back—the gentlemen of the grand jury are coming into court." To what the moaning prisoner at the bar might have limited her supplications, I never had an opportunity of ascertaining, for the noise I have mentioned was succeeded by the appearance of eighteen or nineteen men, dressed up in something like the shabbiest dominoes I had seen at Lady Wolverhampton's masquerade, trimmed with very dirty fur—the leader, or foreman, carrying in his hand three bits of parchment. As these gentlemen advanced to a space reserved for them in the centre of the court, the judge kept exchanging bows with them until they had all reached their destination—the foreman then delivered to the clerk of arraigns the three bits of parchment, who, putting his glasses on his nose, read—James Hickson, larceny—not found.—John Hogg, felony—true bill.—Mary Ann Hodges, felony—not found. The clerk then informed his lordship, partly by words, and partly by signs, the result of the deliberations of the grand jury, and the fact that there were no more bills to set before them. Having thus far proceeded, that officer inquired if the gentlemen of the grand jury had any presentment to make; whereupon the foreman, one of the largest and dirtiest-looking persons imaginable, but whose countenance was indicative of love of power and command, and who appeared, at the moment he prepared himself to unburthen his great soul of a grievance, to feel as if the whole world were a football, made for him to play with,—

"My lord," said he, drawing himself up into an attitude, "I am sure I need not, at this time of day, enter into any discussion with your lordship on the vast importance of the rights and privileges of Englishmen—of the original establishment of the trial by jury in this country. It would be worse than idle to occupy your valuable time and that of this court, by dilating upon the merits of our constitution—the chiefest of which has, I may say—been always—and I will say—wisely, considerately, and prudently held to be that peculiar mode of administering justice between man and man. But, my lord, if in civil cases the deliberation and decision of a jury are considered adequate safeguards to the rights and property of the people, the law, still more careful of their lives and liberties, has interposed in criminal cases another and a higher tribunal, in the nature of a grand jury." [Hereabouts the judge, having bowed his head graciously, omitted to raise it again, having dropped into a sound slumber.]

"That tribunal of mediation in the first instance, is full of importance; and whatever subsequent proceedings may be taken in a case, I do say, for myself and my fellows, that the decision upon ex-parte evidence requires more circumspection, more care, and more consideration than a verdict delivered after a case had been argued, and after witnesses have been heard on both sides.

"If, my lord, your lordship concedes this point, I will merely say, generally, that when the mind is occupied by any important object, more especially in matters of jurisprudence, it is absolutely necessary that nothing, if possible, should occur to irritate or exacerbate the feelings—all should be calm, and at rest."

Several people turned their eyes towards his lordship, and some smiled.

"No incidental annoyance should be permitted to interpose itself; nothing which could divert the judge from the point to which his intellectual faculties ought to be directed, and to which, my lord, under suitable circumstances, they would as they should naturally converge. But, my lord, we are finite beings—creatures of habit—subject to all the weaknesses of our nature, and liable to be acted upon by impulses almost unaccountable to ourselves. For myself and my fellows, I may, perhaps, hope for a favourable interpretation of our intentions, and a lenient judgment of our conduct. We have, my lord, struggled hard to do our duty, and I hope we have done it serviceably and effectually—conscientiously and faithfully, I am sure we have. But, my lord, we do think it necessary to call your lordship's most serious attention to a fact which is embodied in the presentment I hold in my hand. It is one which occurs to us to be of paramount importance, as far as the tempering of justice with mercy is involved: we have suffered grievously from the existence of the evil to which we point; and although at this time of the year its effects are of course not so heavily felt as in the winter season, we have considered it a duty we owe to this court, to our fellow-countrymen, and, we may say, to every man intimately or remotely connected with the administration of criminal justice, spread as they may be over the whole surface of the globe, to state that the chimney in the grand jury-room smokes so much and so continually, that it is impossible to endure its effects calmly or patiently; and we therefore think it right to bring the matter thus formally before your lordship, and to desire that measures may be taken to abate a nuisance which, by its effects, is calculated to thwart, impede, and even distort the course of justice, and produce evils, the magnitude of which it is scarcely possible to imagine, and certainly not to express."

A buzz of approbation from the gentlemen of the grand jury, who had been undergoing the process of smoke-drying for several days, created a stir in the court, in the midst of which the learned judge awoke; and the lord mayor having whispered into his lordship's wig, his lordship bowed, and the clerk took the parchment.

"Mr. Foreman, and gentlemen of the grand jury," said his lordship, "I am happy to say that your labours for the present are concluded; there are no more bills for your consideration. Your presentment shall be attended to, and I have to acknowledge your great zeal and attention, and to give you thanks for your services:—gentlemen, you are now discharged."

The bows, and scufflings, and cries of "Make way there for the gentlemen of the grand jury, who are coming out of court," were resumed, and the orator and his peers retired, leaving the poor girl at the bar, wondering what had happened, and what could be the reason that the worshipful community with the cat-skin tippets should have interposed themselves in the middle of her pathetic defence, in order to discuss the irritating characteristic of a smoky chimney.

I admit that the pompous oratory of the foreman, the "mons parturiens"—a splendid exhibition, and the "ridiculus mus," which eventually presented itself, were to me treats of no common order, and I regretted that Daly was not with me to participate with me in devouring the grave absurdities which we should have had before us.

The trial of the girl was concluded, and I had no doubt as to her fate, now that I became acquainted with the principle,—she was acquitted, and never shall I forget the effect which this result of her trial produced upon her manners and features. The moment my friend Zig-zag had pronounced the words, "Not guilty," the pathetic expression which had characterised her countenance turned into the most humorous, and having winked her eye at the learned judge, who, poor man, had summed up decidedly against her, she proceeded to place her two hands extended in a right line from the tip of her nose, in the direction of his lordship's seat, after the fashion of what is called "taking a double sight," and then, making a noise which, if not indescribable by imitation, is certainly irreducible to writing, something between that which a hackney-coachman utters to encourage his tired horses, and that which a duck makes when it sees either a ditch or a drake in dry weather, she turned herself suddenly round with the least graceful pirouette I ever saw, leaving one of the hands which she had previously elevated for observation the last part of her person visible.

A short case of pot-stealing followed—the prisoner was found guilty in ten minutes; and then came the case. It was a curious and intricate one, and I felt quite assured, when I saw the prisoner, a genteel-looking young man, take his place under the inverted mirror, contrived with an almost diabolical ingenuity, so as to refract and reflect the light upon his face from the huge window at his back; I said to myself, having got both hardened and hungry during my short probation in court, "We shall not dine at six to-day."

It might, perhaps, injure the feelings of the individual himself, or, if he is dead, those of his friends and relations, to detail the particular case, the more especially as nothing could be clearer than that the crime laid to his charge was amply and satisfactorily—to everybody except himself—proved and substantiated.

Just as the last witness for the defence was under cross-examination, I saw one of the lord mayor's servants put his powdered head in a little hole, and whisper something to the ordinary of Newgate, a remarkably pious-looking man, in full canonicals, with a bag-wig, which, to use Foote's phraseology, speaking of Dr. Simony (by whom, as of course everybody knows, he meant the unfortunate Dr. Dodd), "looked as white as a curd, and as close as a cauliflower." It struck me that either the pretty wanton who had just been acquitted desired some serious conversation with the clergyman, or that the last convicted pot-stealer felt some qualms of conscience, and had sent for spiritual assistance; but no,—my friend Mr. Sheriff Bucklesbury relieved my mind from any such apprehensions, by inviting me to a whisper, with an expression of countenance which convinced me that it was nothing of so serious a character which had suddenly summoned the reverend divine from the court.

"Good news!" said the sheriff; "land is in sight."

"What?" said I, not exactly catching the idea.

"Dinner is not far distant," said the sheriff, "the ordinary has been sent for to dress the salad."

Well, thought I, that ever a man so dressed, and so addressed, as the reverend divine opposite, should quit the seat of justice tempered with mercy, to mix oil and vinegar in a salad-bowl, does seem strange. It was evident to me, from the manner in which my friend spoke of the chaplain's secular vocations, that his respect for the table was infinitely greater than that which he entertained for the cloth, and never from that day have I seen painted over suburban inns, "an ordinary on Sundays at two o'clock," without thinking of the reverend functionary so styled in the Old Bailey, and the probable duties he would be called upon to perform.

The evidence having terminated, and the clock pointing to fifteen minutes after six, his lordship began summing up. I have already mentioned that his lordship was deaf, and the strange blunders which I noticed in his early charges will perhaps serve to inform the reader of these papers, whoever he may be, that his lordship's handwriting was utterly unintelligible, even to himself; indeed, so completely illegible were his notes, that the only resource his lordship had, if ever they were called for upon motions for new trials (which perhaps I need not here add, was in his lordship's case by no means an unfrequent occurrence), was to send them to be printed—printers being proverbially the best decypherers in the world.

His lordship's charge—barring the inevitable blunders and hesitations, rendered absolutely necessary by this almost hopeless illegibility—was exceedingly minute and elaborated. He recapitulated the evidence of the three first witnesses verbatim, and continued thus of the fourth:—

"Now, gentlemen of the jury, here is Amos Hardy—Handy—no, not Handy—Harding—Amos Harding tells you, that on Tuesday—no, not Tuesday—I see—Friday the 14th—that is, the 24th—he was going along Liverpool—no—Liquorpond Street—near Gug's Island—Guy's—no—Gray's Inn Lane—yes—going along Liquorpond Street, Gray's Inn Lane—at about eight o'clock in the morning—and saw the fire break out of Mr. Stephenson's windows. This, gentlemen of the jury, is a very remarkable fact—and in connection with some other circumstances to which we shall presently come, is quite worthy of your particular attention—you perceive that he swears to eight o'clock in the morning."

"Evening, my lord," said Mr. Flappertrap, standing up and whispering his lordship audibly.

"Evening is it?" said his lordship—"ay, so it is—evening—no matter—he swears to the time at which he saw the fire break out—and hence will naturally arise in your minds a chain of circumstances which it will be my duty to endeavour to unravel. In the first place——"

Hereabouts one of the servants of the court put his head in at one of the doors at the back of the bench, and whispered the lord mayor much after the same manner in which Mr. Flappertrap had just before whispered the judge. His lordship immediately pulled out his watch—then looked at the clock—and then wrote a few words upon a slip of paper, and laid that slip of paper upon his lordship's notes. The judge took up the memorandum, and tore it in pieces—as I thought indignantly.

"You know what that means?" said my friend, the sheriff.

"No," said I.

"Dinner's waiting," replied my friend—an announcement which startled me, as it seemed impossible but that it would be kept waiting for some time. This little scene, however, was followed by the arrival of the recorder, who, after bowing to the lord mayor, took his seat on the bench.

"I told you so," said the sheriff; "Mr. Recorder is come to try the remaining cases——" A cry of "Silence—pray, silence," indicated that Mr. Sheriff Bucklesbury and I were speaking somewhat too loudly.

"The circumstances to which I allude," continued his lordship, after he had torn up the note, "are in fact so clearly detailed in the evidence you have heard, that to men of intelligence and experience, like those I am now addressing, any attempt at explanation on my part would be superfluous. The case appears a very clear one—you have to decide upon the value of the evidence, and return your verdict accordingly, giving the prisoner the benefit of any doubts you may entertain on the question."

Never was I more surprised than at finding the promised explanations and comparisons of fact and testimony so suddenly cut short, after the manner of "the story of the Bear and Fiddle," and I could not help, while the clerk of the arraigns was putting his accustomed question to the jury, noticing the circumstance to my worshipful friend.

"To be sure," said the sheriff, "don't you see—the time is up—he smells the marrow puddings."

The jury, emulating the expedition of the judge, in one minute, according to the zig-zag system, acquitted the prisoner; whereupon, his lordship rising to depart, addressed that individual in words to this effect:—

"Prisoner at the bar, you have been tried by an able, patient, and conscientious jury of your countrymen, who, convinced like myself of the enormity of your crime, and of the wicked intentions by which you were actuated in its commission, have returned the only verdict which they could justly and honestly return—they have well discharged their duty. And although it is not my province in this place to pronounce the awful sentence of the law upon you, I shall take care——"

Here Mr. Flappertrap whispered his lordship that the jury had acquitted the prisoner.

"By-and-by, sir," said his lordship, angry at being interrupted—"I shall take care, young man, that an example shall be made in your person of the——"

The lord mayor here ventured to suggest that the "young man" was found not guilty.

"Very well, my lord—presently, presently," said his lordship—"even-handedness of justice; and that an enormous offender of your class may not be suffered to escape the just vengeance of the laws which he has outraged."

Here Mr. Flappertrap whipped a bit of paper over the desk of the bench into the very place which the announcement of dinner had so recently occupied. His lordship looked at it, and exclaimed, unconsciously—"Oh! ah!—umph!" and then continued—"It is true that upon the present occasion the mercy and forbearance of the jury have been exercised in a signal manner; and I trust their benevolence and indulgence will not be thrown away upon you. I maintain my own opinion still—yet they have decided, and I have only to receive that decision—you are discharged, sir, and may go about your business; but I can tell you this, young man, you have had a very narrow escape indeed."

There was not a man in court who did not tacitly admit the truth and justice of at least the concluding passage of his lordship's address to the acquitted prisoner; nor was that individual himself the least astonished of his lordship's auditors. The incident, however, was worthy of its place in the day's proceedings, as producing a climax to the judicial operations of the learned lord, and leaving upon the minds of all his majesty's liege subjects then and there present, a conviction, that however classical it maybe to picture Justice blind, it is not, as a matter of convenience and utility, at all desirable that she should also be deaf.

THE TOOTHPICK-MAKERS' COMPANY.

The day was extremely fine; the windows of the rooms opening to the water, the house smelling of fried fish and mud, and the little boys with naked legs screaming, "please to make a scramble," we having attained this enviable position in the building which looked like a race-stand, by treading a labyrinth of the dirtiest alleys and stable-yards that ever pauper or pony inhabited. It was, however, a joyous scene; and Hull, who was good enough to be my Mentor on the occasion, pooh-poohed the waiters into allowing us to look at the dinner-room, all laid out for the company; more than a hundred were expected, partitions had been pulled down, holes cut out here, and props poked in there, to afford the required accommodation; in short, everything gave token of a goodly day.

Hull, who was at home everywhere, and everywhere popular, appeared, as soon as he arrived, to supersede everybody else.

"My dear friend," said he, "I happen to know these people—the Toothpick Makers are one of the most ancient corporations of the city. My dear sir, the Mercers were incorporated in the 17th of Richard the Second—I have a tract that will prove it—1393 they were embodied—I know the clerk of the company at this day—so do you."

"No, I do not," said I.

"Pooh, pooh," said Hull, "don't tell me—Jemmy Hobbs—everybody knows Jemmy Hobbs—married Miss Ball of Blackheath—'Splendid fellow, Jemmy. Well! these Mercers are a fine company, so are the Grocers,—St. Anthony is their patron. My dear sir, I am forced to know all these things. Then there are the Drapers, and the Fishmongers—pooh, pooh—Doctors, and Proctors, and Princes of the Blood, are all fishmongers—Walworth was a fishmonger—eh—my dear friend, you should see their paintings—splendid things—Spiridiona Roma—fish in all seasons. Then there are the Goldsmiths and the Skinners, and the Merchant Tailors—Linen Armourers—eh—queer fellows, some of them; but I do assure you—" (this was said in a whisper,) "you will see some men here to-day worth seeing."

"I suppose," said I, "the Toothpick Makers' Company was founded by Curius Dentatus—whence comes the French cure-dent."

"Pooh, pooh," said Hull, "no such thing—much older than Curius Dentatus—I happen to know—founded in the reign of Edward the Fifth, my dear friend."

About this period the company began to arrive "thicker and faster," and certainly I had never seen any one of them before, which gave, at least, an air of novelty to the scene. Generally speaking, they ran fat, and wore white waistcoats, such as that to which I had likened the bow window of 77, St. James's Street: they looked all very hot, and puffed a good deal;—however, they kept coming and coming, until the drawing-room, as a sort of thing like a bad conservatory, well placed to the south-west, was called, was so full that I began to be as hot as my companions. Six o'clock arrived, but no dinner; the master of the house (who, from wearing a similar sort of uniform waistcoat, I took to be a Toothpick Maker,) came in and spoke to some of the fattest persons of the community, evidently intimating that the banquet was ready—nevertheless no move was made, because it appeared that Mr. Hicks had not arrived.

"You had better," said one of the more important persons in the room, "let men be placed ready to see when Mr. Hicks arrives at the end of the lane by the stables."

"Yes, sir," was the answer; and from that time I heard nothing but Hicks and Mr. Hicks talked of, until I was driven by extreme curiosity to inquire of my omniscient friend Hull, who Mr. Hicks was.

"Hicks!" exclaimed Hull—"why, my dear friend, you know Mr. Hicks—the great Mr. Hicks—everybody knows Hicks."

"I for one," said I, "do not—" and it turned out that at the moment I was not likely to be enlightened, for, just as Hull was about to give me an account of this important personage, a hubbub and bustle near the door, which speedily pervaded the whole assembly, proclaimed his arrival. In a moment the buzz of conversation ceased, a sort of circle was made round Mr. Hicks, and several of the most distinguished members of the community hurried up to take their places near him. Hull dragged me towards this sanctum, this magic ring, and, with a look of the greatest importance, assured me, that it was right that I should immediately be presented to Mr. Hicks. The presentation accordingly took place, and no sooner was it over, than one of the grandees came up to me, and, in a confidential whisper, informed me that my place at dinner was on the left of Mr. Hicks, as being a friend of the master. I concluded that the arrangement was attributable to Hull, who, I found, was to be my neighbour on the left, and, although I could have dispensed with the honour of so close an approximation to the hero of the day, I rejoiced mightily that I was placed so near my friend Hull, who would be as useful to me upon such an occasion as is a catalogue of the pictures at an exhibition anywhere else.

In a very short time dinner was announced, and Mr. Hicks, having the master on his right hand, led the way to the large room upstairs, round the whole of which the table ran, exhibiting, as I entered the apartment, a lengthened line of tin covers, looking like a collection of cuirasses, glittering on the board;—the heat was tremendous, and the air redolent with fried flounders. A few minutes sufficed to arrange us, grace was said by the chaplain, and we fell to. As in all similar cases, the exercise of eating and drinking superseded conversation or remark, and I, who did but little in that way myself, and having therefore an opportunity of seeing the modus operandi at my leisure, became suddenly enlightened as to the extent to which such pleasures may be carried. Of each and every dish did each and every man partake, from turtle to white-bait, both inclusive; by comparison with the individuals now before and around me, my friend Bucklesbury, whom I had a week before considered a prodigy in the way of feeding, sank into insignificance; to the elaborated course of fish succeeded a host of fowls, cutlets, hashes, stews, and other things of that nature, accompanied by sundry haunches of venison, and succeeded again by ducks innumerable, and peas immeasurable. The destruction of all these articles was, however, effected with ease in less than an hour and a half, during which the attentions paid to Mr. Hicks were most marked and gratifying: if the sun shone in upon the tip of his nose, the waiters were ordered to pull down the blinds before him; if the gentlest breeze wantoned about the back of his neck, the master of the house was called to shut the window behind him; for him the chairman culled the choicest bits; to him the landlord tendered his most particular wines: every eye was fixed on his actions, every ear seemed open to his words; he had, however, as yet spoken little, but had "eaten the more."

All sublunary pleasures must have an end, so had this dinner; and a call of silence, and the thumping of the president's hammer upon the table, announced that some professional gentlemen were about to sing Non nobis, Domine. They began—we all standing up—I with the sun full in my eyes, setting over London in all its glory. The voices harmonised beautifully; but fine and melodious as they were, I felt that the canon, or whatever it is called, very much resembled a fire which, smouldering and smouldering in the low notes, kept perpetually bursting out in a fresh place, when one fancied it out. As far as the religious feeling of the thing goes, it was misplaced; and as for its duration, it seemed to be more like three graces than one.

This over, the wine began to pass, and "beards to wag;" Hicks grew condescending, and the day began to mend; the King's health was given—song, God save the King—chorus by the company, all standing—The Queen—The Prince of Wales—then the Duke of York and the Army—the Duke of Clarence and the Navy—the Memory of St. Ursula, the mother of all Toothpick Makers, with an appropriate glee, received with loud cheers.

The Master then rose and begged to propose a toast. No sooner had he uttered these words, than the whole room rang with applause, the wine-glasses danced hornpipes upon the table to the music of the forks and spoons, and the noise was tremendous. "I see," continued the worthy president, "that you anticipate my intentions; gentlemen, there could be no doubt upon your minds what the toast would be" (more cheering). "I will not occupy your time, nor hinder you from the gratification of your feelings upon this topic by dilating upon the merits of the illustrious individual whose health I am about to propose; whether we regard him in public life, guiding by his zeal and energy the community which he fosters and protects by his influence, or view him in private society, the ornament of the circle of which he is the centre, our gratitude and admiration are equally excited. Gentlemen, I will not trespass upon your time, or wound, what I know to be the delicacy of his feelings, by recapitulating the deeds which gild his name, and which have, during the last year, added so much to his honour and reputation, and to the welfare and comfort of his colleagues and associates:—I beg to propose the health of Benjamin Spooner Hicks, Esq.,—a name dear to every Englishman—with all the honours."

Then came a storm of applause unparalleled, at least in my experience. A band of music, which had hitherto been silent, struck up "See the Conquering Hero comes," and nine times nine cheers were given in a style the most overwhelming. During this storm of rapture, I seized the opportunity of once again asking Hull who Hicks was, and what he had done, to deserve and receive all these extraordinary marks of approbation and applause, but all I could extract from my rubicund friend was, "Pooh, pooh,—don't tell me—you know Hicks—my dear friend, everybody knows Hicks—there isn't a man better known in the universe." There was no time amidst the din of glory to assure him once more that I had by no possible accident ever heard his name before, so I resumed my seat, as the object of our enthusiasm quitted his, to return thanks. His up-rising was hailed by the company with an almost Persic adoration:—silence at length having been obtained, he spake—

"Sir, and Gentlemen,—There are certain periods in our existence which entirely defy description—this, as far as I am concerned, is one of them. I have been placed in many trying situations, and I think I may say, without fear of contradiction, I have behaved as became a man (loud cheers); I am aware that some of my efforts for the benefit of my fellow-creatures have been crowned with success (hear, hear, hear); and I am thankful to Providence that I am possessed of the means to do good to them as is not so well off as myself (loud cheers). I say, sir, it would be the height of baseness for a man who has been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, not now and then to take it out, and feed them as has not been so fortunate (great cheering). My political feelings and principles I need not touch upon (immense cheering); they are known to all the world (tumultuous applause); I shall steadily maintain the course I have heretofore followed, and observe the straight line, neither swerving to the right, nor to the left, as little awed by the frown of power as flattered by its smiles (hear, hear, hear).

"Gentlemen, I sincerely thank you for the honour you have done me, and beg to drink all your good healths in return."

The shoutings were here renewed, but to an extent far beyond the former exhibition. Mr. Hicks sat down, but still the thunder continued; and scarcely had it subsided, even for a moment, when Mr. Hicks, upon his legs again, caused a relapse which nearly drove me mad.

Hicks waved his hand, and it was a calm—you might have heard a pin drop—he had to propose the health of the worshipful chairman, the Master of the Toothpick Makers' Company.

After expressing in almost the same words that Hicks had just before used, his conviction that this was the "proudest moment of his life," the chairman continued to observe, that if anything could possibly add to the gratification of having his health drunk by such an assembly, it was the fact of its having been proposed by such an individual. He then proceeded to say, that he was quite sure in that society, composed as it was of men of all parties, all professions, and all politics, he need not expatiate upon the merits of the honourable gentleman to whom he had previously alluded—they were known all over the world. He, like Hicks, returned the most heartfelt acknowledgments for the favour he had received at their hands, and sat down amidst very loud acclamations.

Still I was left in ignorance of all the great deeds which "gilt" my friend Hicks's "humble name;" and I found, being so near him, that it was quite impossible to get enlightenment. At length, however, I was destined to hear something of the character of his achievements; for shortly after the worshipful master had sat down, and just before the healths of the wardens of the Toothpicks, or some such functionaries, were about to be toasted, a tall, thin, pale man—a rare specimen in the Museum—rose and said, as nearly as I can recollect, what follows:—

"Sir, I am sure you will forgive me for the intrusion I now venture upon; but I cannot permit this opportunity to pass without expressing, on my own part and on the behalf of several of my worthy neighbours, a sense of our obligation—and, indeed, the sense of obligation under which, like us, the rest of civilised Europe, are laid, by the manly, courageous, zealous, and indefatigable exertions of the honourable gentleman on the right of the chair, to whom you have so justly referred (loud cheers). It may, perhaps, be thought superfluous in me to enlarge upon a subject so familiar to your hearts; but I cannot avoid mentioning a trait which at once displays the greatness of that honourable gentleman's mind, the prowess of his courage, and his immutable determination to do justice to all men"—(still louder cheers followed this point).

"I think," continued the pale man, "I need not speak more distinctly upon the subject to which I allude." (Here shouts rent the room, and glasses began to dance again.) "But, lest there should be any gentleman present, who might by accident be unacquainted with the circumstance to which I refer"—(cries of "no, no! impossible! hear, hear! order, order!") "I say, if—for it may be so—if such a thing should be, I think it best at once to explain, that the conduct to which I now specifically refer, but which I may truly say is of a piece with every action of his honoured life, is that which our great benefactor—and friend—if he will allow me so to call him"—(Hicks nodded, and said "hear!")—"observed upon the occasion of removing the lamp from the corner of Black Lion Street to the head of Spittle Court." (Immense cheering.) "Sir, I do not wish to go into the question of the eleven yards of pavement from the Swan Inn to the bootmaker's"—(roars of laughter burst from part of the company, as the evident severity of this remark upon the conduct of some other eminent individual, murmurs from others, "hear, hear!" from many, and "oh, oh!" from a few!) "I strictly confine myself to the lamp; and I do say, without fear of contradiction, that the benefit conferred on society by that change, and the manly way in which it was effected, without truckling to the higher powers, or compromising the character and dignity of the Company, has shed immortal lustre upon the name and fame of the honourable gentleman to whom I have alluded. (Immense cheers.) I have to apologize for this effusion"—("no, no! bravo") "but it is involuntary. I have for several months laboured under emotions of no ordinary nature; I have now unburdened my mind, and have done my duty to myself, my honourable friend, and my country."

The ogre sat down amidst the loudest possible applause, and more shouts were sent forth in honour of Hicks.

The healths of the Wardens of the Company were then drunk—they returned thanks:—then came alternately songs and glees by the professional gentlemen:—then they drank Mrs. Hicks and family;—and then—for be it observed, the fervour of the applause increased as the night grew older—the uproar was tremendous. Nine times nine seemed infinitely too small a complement of cheers to compliment the Hickses, and I had become dead tired of the whole affair, when Mr. Hicks—the great Mr. Hicks—rose to return thanks for that honour. He talked of connubial felicity, and spoke of the peculiar merits and charms of his daughters with all the eloquence of a tuft-hunting mother. Having done which, he fell to moralising upon the lateness of the hour, and the necessity of recollecting that Greenwich was nearly five miles from town; that, happy as we were, prudence pointed to a period at which such enchantments should terminate. "Gentlemen," said he, "in conclusion, I have obtained permission to propose one parting bumper. I believe we are all agreed that the constitution of England is a blessing envied by every country in the world—(loud cheers). We have drank the king, the queen, the royal family, the army, the navy, the ministers, and indeed everything that we could be well supposed to drink constitutionally. Gentlemen, the place in which we are now assembled suggests to me the best, the most loyal, the most appropriate, and the most constitutional toast possible as a conclusion. I give it you with feelings of mingled loyalty and piety—I propose to you, 'The Crown and Sceptre,' and may they never be separated."

This unqualified piece of nonsense, delivered seriously by Hicks (rather overcome) to about fifty or sixty survivors of the original dinner, nearly killed me with laughing: not so the company—at it they went—cheered like mad—up-standing nine times nine—rattle went the forks—jingle and smash went the glasses—and, in the midst of the uproar, Hicks rose, the Master did the same, and, of course, we followed the example.

Then came all the worry and confusion about carriages—the little alley was crowded with people seeking for conveyances—it had just begun to rain. Hull looked at me, and inquired what vehicle I had?—I had none—I was annihilated—when, judge my delight and surprise at finding the illustrious Hicks himself at my side, offering Hull and myself places in his coach. I could scarcely believe it; however, so it was, and an advantage was derivable from it for which I was scarcely prepared.

"Come down with me," said Hicks, "directly:—this way—they are preparing a deputation to light me through the alley to the carriage—I want to avoid it. My boy tells me it is all ready—if we can but get round the corner, we shall be off without being observed—they will do these things, but incog. for me—I hate state and finery—eh, Mr. Hull?"

"Pooh, pooh!" said Hull, "you need no new honours—to be sure—what a day—eh—never was any thing so splendid!"

And so Hicks's boy, or, as Hull called him, "b'y," preceding, we made our escape into the patriot's carriage; and never did I more rejoice in my life. The quiet of the calm which aeronauts experience when they rise in a few minutes from the tumultuous shoutings of the populace into the dead stillness of the vast expanse above, cannot be more surprising than was the tranquillity of the coach compared with the boisterousness of the company.

Mr. Hicks carried us as far as he could, without inconveniencing himself, and set us down at the corner of a small street in Cheapside, having, just before we parted, mentioned to me that if at any time I should be in need of any article in the hardware line, I should find every thing he had at wholesale prices and of the very best quality.

Hull and I walked westward, but whether it arose from the length of the way or its width, I cannot exactly state, I was uncommonly tired when I reached home. When I fell asleep, which I did as soon as I got into bed, I dreamed of the extraordinary infatuation which possesses men in all classes of life to believe themselves eminently important, and their affairs seriously interesting to all the rest of the world; and became perfectly satisfied that every sphere and circle of society possesses its Hicks, and that my friend the hardwareman was not one bit a greater fool than his neighbours.

THE MANSERVANT'S LETTER.[64]

Murrel Green, Thursday.

"Dear Sarah,—I should not wonder if you wasn't a little surprised at neither seeing nor hearing from me before this, as I calculate you also will be at reading the date of this hepistol. The truth is, that the Captain, whose stay in England will be very short, says to me, just as I was coming off to you the night after I wrote, 'Lazenby,' says he, 'where do you go when you leave me?' So I contumaciously expressed myself in these identical words, 'Why, sir,' says I in a masculine manner, 'I am going to Blissford.' Whereupon he observed to me that he supposed I had got what the French calls a chair ah me there, and that I was likely to settle myself in the neighbourhood—so then I expostulated with him and mentioned my notion of setting up in the general line, and he laughed and said that he hoped to do that himself some day, and was quite factious upon the toepick, which after his manner the night before, rather constaminated me, as Goldfinch says in Ben Jonson's 'Beggars' Opera;' whereupon he; says, looking at me in his droll way, 'Tom,' says he, 'I shan't be long in London; hadn't you better go up with me and Mrs. M. when we are married, and stop with us till we go?'—for, mind you, he is going to take her out with him to share the toils of the champaign; and this was the very first of his directly insinuating that the thing was all settled: so I hesitates a little; and thinking of you, my dear Sarah, I says, says I, 'Sir, will you give me an hour to preponderate?'—'To be sure I will,' says the Captain. Well, I begins to think; and I calculated I might make a few pounds by stopping and paying his bills and managing his luggage, and all that, before he went. So I says to Susan—she as I wrote about in my last—'If you was me,' says I, 'what would you do in this conundrum?'—'Why,' says Susan, 'if you ask me my advice, if I was you I'd stay and go with the Captain.' So I considers a bit more; and I says to her, 'I don't much like missus as is to be.'—'Nor I,' said Susan, 'although I have knowed her longer than you; but for all that, I'm going as her maid; only to stay till they leave England for good.'—'Why,' says I, having heard her opinion of the future Mrs. Merman, and how Mrs. Gibson had gone away entirely excavated by the levity of her mistresse's behaviour, 'I had no notion you would do such a thing.'

"So Susan says to me, 'Lazenby,' says she—she calls me Lazenby, for we are quite like brother and sister now—'my old missus wishes it; and she hints something about remembering me hereafter; and so what is it?' says Susan; 'in these days, folks don't stick at trifles; and sure if Miss Millicent is good enough to be Captain Merman's wife, she is good enough to be my missus.' That seemed remarkably judicial to my comprension; and so, thinking what was good for Susan could not be interogatory to me, up I goes to the Captain, and agrees to stay with him, as I tell you, till he bids a Jew to his native land, at which perriod, dear Sarah, I hope to return to you, like the good bee who, as Pope says in 'The Deserted Village'—

and bring you an affectionate art, and I should say upwards of seven pounds fourteen shillings in hard cash by way of hunney. Susan says she should like to know you, she is so much indisposed towards you by my inscription of you; and I should like you to be friends, which perhaps may be some of these days, if she comes back to that part of the country. She would be uncommon nice company for both of us, she is so candied and filantropical, and it is a great thing for a married couple to have such a friend.

"I don't know whether you have ever been in this quarter of the world, although, as I don't think you could well have got to Blissford by any other road from London, pr'aps you have; it is very wild and romantic, with a bit of a green before the door, upon which there are geese, ducks, enseterar; and Susan and I am going to take a walk, and we shall carry this letter ourselves to Artley Row, where is the Post-office, because, as I have promised the Captain not to say anything one way or the other, I thought if he saw a letter redressed to the Passonage, he might inspect something; so Susan and I agreed it would be better to go out in the dusk as if miscellaneously, and slip it in unbeknown to any body, while master and missus is enjoying their teat a teat after dinner. We go on to the meterpolis in the morning, and Susan and I go outside in the rumble-tumble, for Miss Pennefather has lent us the charriot, which I suppose I shall have to bring back, which, as I cannot do without horses, will be a very pretty incursion. I don't in course know how long the Captain will be before he goes, so do not fret. I have got your wach, which does not keep tim well, but I never look at it without thinking of you. Susan says it wants to have new hands put to it, and I shall give it to a watchmaker in town to riggle at it spontaneously on my arrival. The Captain and his mate seem very happy, which also makes me think of you, Sarah dear; she certainly is no beauty to my taste; she is a good deal in the Ottomy line, and I should say not easily pleased; but in course as yet it all goes uncommon comfortable; for, as O'Keefe says in his comical farce of 'Love for Love:'—

"I hope poor Miss Fanny don't take on about the loss of master; I'm sure if I was she, and knew that he left me for the sake of Malooney's money, I should care no more about him than nothing at all—true love loves for itself a loan—don't it, dear Sarah? Oh, Sarah! Susan and I had some hot sassages and mashed potatoes for dinner to-day, and I did so think of you, and I said so; and Susan says to me, says she, 'Does your Sarah love sassages?' so I said, says I, 'Yes, where's the girl of taste as doesn't?'—and so she says again, 'Then I wish she was here'—and we both laughed like bogies. So that shows we don't forget you.

"As to Miss Fanny, there is one thing—which, if you have an opportunity upon the sly, you may incoherently hint—which may be p'rhaps a considerable revelation of her despondency, if she still cares for master; which is this—the officer which is to have the recruiting party in place of him, as Rattan told me before I came away, is taller and better-looking than master, and quite the gentleman: p'raps, if you tell Miss Fanny that, it will controvert her regret, and make her easy—I know enough of the seck, Sarah, to know that it is with females as it is with fighters—to use the words of Young in his 'Abelard and Eloisa,'—

"And so perhaps Miss Fanny may make up her mind to the gentleman which will relieve my master—I am sure I hope she may, for she is I am sure constipated to make any man happy in that way. Well, Sarah dear, I must now say good-bye—or else, Tim flies so fast, Susan and I may be mist. I haven't room to tell you all about Master's wedding, which was all done with as little ceremony as possible, and as Susan says there was not a minnit to be lost, but I will explain all particulars when I come back to you, which will not be long first. So squeeze my keeping you in expence for these few days, for I was so busy I could not write before, but Susan says she is sure you will forgive me, and so I think you will.

"I say, dear Sarah, in exclusion, I hope that you have not been speaking to William Waggle, the baker's young youth, because, as I am absent, it might give some grounds for calomel—Mrs. Hodgson and those two Spinkeses her sisters is always a-watching—I'm not a bit jellies myself—no, I scorn the 'green hided malster,' as Morton says in his 'New Way to pay old Debts'—but I know the world—I know what the old Tabbies say, and how they skirtinize every individil thing which relates to us—as I says to Susan—the eyes of the hole world is on us two—you and me—and therefore, Sarah dear, mind what you do, and do not encourage any of them to walk with you in an evening—specially Bill, inasmuch as the whiteness of his jacket would make the round-counter the more evident to the Hargooses of the place.

"A jew Sarah—the next you will hear from me will be in London—most probably at the Whiteoss Cellar in Pickadilly, or the Golden Cross, Charing Cross, which the Captain thinks the quietest spots to fix upon—rely upon my righting you the minute I have time—I told Rattan that I was going back to Blissford, so he will have had no message for you; besides, I don't want you to have any miliary connexions during my abstinence—therefore please to remember me in your art, as I do you in mine, and if you will, do me the fever to pay Mrs. Jukes three and ninepence which I owe her for washing my things, which I will repay you when we meet—best love, in which Susan, though she does not know you, joins with equal sincerity—take care of yourself, dear Sarah, and mind about the baker.

"Yours always true till death,

"Thomas Lazenby."

THE BIBLIOMANIAC.

"Here," said he, drawing from one of his pockets a very small dirty black-letter book, "this is all I shall do to-day—my pursuit, you know—eh—old books—rare books—I don't care what I give so as I can secure them—this is a tract of 1486—seventeen pages originally—five only wanting—two damaged—got it for seventy-two pounds ten shillings—Caxton—only one other copy extant—that in the British Museum."

"Seventy-two pounds for that!" said I.

"To be sure," replied Hull; "why, my dear sir, it is not worth my while to come out of the city unless I spend seventy or eighty pounds in the morning—I cannot afford the time for less."

"And what is it about?" said I, innocently.

"Why, I do not happen to know that," said Hull; "it is an essay, I believe, to prove that Edward the Fourth never had the toothache; but it is, as you see, in Latin, and I don't read Latin."

"Then why buy it?" said I.

"Buy!" exclaimed he, looking at me through his glass with an expression of astonishment—"I buy thousands of books!—pooh, pooh! millions, my dear sir, in the course of a year, but I never think of reading them—my dear friend, I have no time to read."

I confess I did not exactly comprehend the character of the bibliomania, which appeared to engross my friend, nor the particular gratification which the purchase of the unreadable works seemed to afford him. But he only curled up his mouth, as much as to say that I was a dunce, and that there was a sort of delight—felt in common with magpies, I presume—of picking up objects and hiding them away in dark holes and corners.—Gilbert Gurney.

ABSENCE OF MIND.

Absence of mind may be defined to be a slowness of mind, in speaking or in action. The absent man is one who, when he is reckoning up a bill, and hath collected the particulars, will ask a by-stander what the amount is. When he is engaged in a law-suit, and the day of trial comes, he forgets it, and goes into the country. He goes to the theatre to see the play, and is left behind, asleep upon the benches. He takes any article, and puts it away securely; then he begins to look for it, and is never able to find it. If a man comes and tells him of the death of a friend, and asks him to the funeral, he says, with a melancholy countenance, and tears in his eyes, "What uncommon good luck!" When he receives money, he calls men to witness the transaction; when he pays a debt, he does not. He quarrels with his servant for not bringing him cucumbers in winter; and forces his children to run and wrestle for their health, till they are ready to die of fatigue. When in the country, he dresses his dinner of herbs, he salts them until they are unfit to eat. And if anybody ask him, "How many dead have been carried through the sacred gate, to be buried?" he answers, "I wish to my heart you and I had half as many."

A DISTINGUISHED TRAVELLER.

Lady Cramly was, or rather had been during her husband's lifetime, the authoress of a solitary work, upon the memory of which she still lived and revelled. She had published two volumes of travels. In some of the countries which she described she really had been, but in others certainly not; but wherever the scene was laid, Lady Cramly and Seraphine were at the top of the tree. Princes were proud to hand them to their carriage—crowned heads opened their palaces to receive them—Lady Cramly received medals, orders, and decorations, which never before had been conferred upon females. Seraphine—with a pug nose, low forehead, and high shoulders—had been painted by all the first artists, and modelled by all the first sculptors on the Continent. The book of travels had gone through eleven editions—Mr. Liberal, the eminent publisher, had made six thousand pounds by it, and would have made more, only that he had foolishly insisted, out of respect to the character of her particular friend the Pope, upon expunging the authoress's account of her having waltzed with his Holiness at a masquerade during the carnival, to which he went only to have the pleasure of being her partner. Upon this circumstance, and her having been made a Burgher (or rather Burgheress) at Bruges (the only instance of the honour ever having been bestowed upon a lady), she not unfrequently descanted, and so often had she told the histories amongst others, that all who heard them, including Seraphine herself, felt certain, that if nobody else believed them, Lady Cramly did.

It was of Lady Cramly the wag said that her authority ought never to be doubted, for she must always be re-lied upon. Nevertheless, her poetical prose was very amusing, and upon Waller's principle (we presume) she was certainly an extremely eloquent and entertaining companion.

DALY'S PRACTICAL JOKES[65]

Among the group was a man whose name was Daly—who, of all the people accounted sane and permitted to range the world keeperless, I hold to have been the most decidedly mad. His conversation was full of droll conceits, mixed with a considerable degree of superior talent, and the strongest evidence of general acquirements and accomplishments. He appeared to be on terms of familiar intimacy with all the members of our little community, and, by his observations and anecdotes, equally well known to persons of much higher consideration; but his description of himself to me, shortly after our introduction, savoured so very strongly of insanity—peculiar in its character, I admit—that I almost repented having, previously to hearing his autobiography, consented to send on my horses to Teddington, in order to accompany him to that village after the departure of the rest of the party to London, in a boat in which he proposed to row himself up to Hampton Court, where, it appeared, he had, a few days before, fixed his temporary residence.

"I hope," said he, "that we shall be better acquainted. I daresay you think me an odd fish—I know I am one. My father, who is no more, was a most respectable man in his way—a sugar-baker in St. Mary Axe. I was destined to follow in his wake and succeed to the business; however, I cut the treacle tubs at an early age—I saw no fun in firkins, and could not manage conviviality in canvas sleeves. D'ye ever read the London Gazette?"

"Sometimes," said I.

"In that interesting paper," said Daly, "I used to look twice a week to see the price of Muscovados. One hapless Saturday I saw my father's name along with the crush: the affair was done—settled; dad went through the usual ceremony, and came out of Guildhall as white as one of his own superfine lumps. Refreshed by his ruin, my exemplary parent soon afterwards bought a house in Berkeley Square, stood a contest for a county, and died rather richer than he started."

"And you, I suppose, his heir?" said I.

"He had not much to leave," replied my new friend. "He ran it rather fine towards the close of his career. My two sisters got their fortunes paid, but I came off with what we technically called the scrapings—four hundred a year, sir, is the whole of my income; all my personal property I carry under my hat. Timber I have none—save my walking-stick; and as to land, except the mould in three geranium pots, which stand in my sitting-room window, I haven't an inch. Still, Mr. Gurney, although I have not a ducat in my purse,

"I envy your philosophy and spirits," said I.

"You are right," replied Daly; "fun is to me what ale was to Boniface; I sleep upon fun—I drink for fun—I talk for fun—I live for fun; hence my addiction to our dear funny friends of to-day. They just suit me—they do nothing but laugh; they laugh with one when present, and at one when absent—but to me that is the fun."

I immediately thought of the "funny" observations upon myself, which I had overheard earlier in the day, pretty well assured that the voice of my new laughter-loving acquaintance had not been the least loud in the debate.

"I admit myself fond of practical joking," continued my friend. "I don't mean in one's own particular circle—there it is dangerous; people are not always in the same humour—what they think uncommonly good fun one day, they will seriously resent as an insult the next. There's no judging with certainty a man's temper of mind, and it is not easy to ascertain how much melted butter a gentleman would like to have poured into his coat-pocket without kicking; I avoid that sort of thing, but on the great scale I confess my addiction. Coming here yesterday evening, I stopped the chaise at the corner of Egham, to turn the finger-post at the corner half round—sent all the people bound for London to Chertsey, all the people destined for Egham to Windsor, and all the people destined for Windsor to London—that's my way."

"Probably," said I, "but not theirs. And do you often indulge yourself in these freaks?"

"Perpetually," replied Daly; "I've whipped off every knocker in Sloane-street three nights running—a hundred and ninety-four, exclusive of shops; and if ever the project of lighting London with smoke should be brought to bear, I flatter myself you will hear of my darkening the whole parish of Pancras, by grinding a gimblet through a gas-pipe."

"These frolics must cost something," said I.

"Occasionally," said my friend; "but what of that? Every man has his pursuits—I have mine."

"I should think," replied I, "if you perform such tricks often, your pursuits must be innumerable."

"What!" exclaimed Daly; "pursuits after me, you mean? I'm obliged to you for that—I see we shall be better acquainted—of that I am now quite certain. One thing I must tell you of myself, because, although there is something equivocal in the outset of the adventure, I set it all to rights afterwards, and will prove to you that in fact all I did was done for fun—pure fun."

I foresaw an awkward discovery of some sort by the prefatory deprecation of criticism; however, I listened to my slight acquaintance with complacency and confidence.

"You must know," said Daly, "that I once had a brother,—long since dead,—and you must know that he was my elder brother, and he went abroad; I remained at home, and was my father's darling—he fancied nothing on earth was like me. I was the wittiest, if not the wisest fellow breathing; and I have seen my respectable parent shake his fat sides with laughing at my jokes and antics, till the tears ran down his rosy cheeks. Nevertheless I had a fault,—I cannot distinctly aver that I have even yet overcome it,—I was extravagant—extravagant in everything—extravagant in mirth—extravagant in love—extravagant in money-matters. After my respected parent's death, I lodged at an upholsterer's—excellent man!—occupied his first floor—but paid him no rent; on the contrary, borrowed money of him."

"Indeed!" said I, "I——"

"Don't frown, Mr. Gurney," interrupted Daly, "you will find that it comes all right in the end. I'm as honest as a Parsee—don't be alarmed—I was then much younger than I am now; and, although the world unjustly, ungenerously, and invariably judge a man's character in after life by the foibles of his youth, don't be prejudiced, but hear me. I borrowed money of him—I consulted him upon all occasions—he was delighted with me, I with him—reciprocity of feeling, you know, and all that sort of thing. My upholsterer was my cabinet-minister—who better? who fitter to be consulted when any new measure was on the tapis? So things went on for a year, at the end of which, I owed him fourteen hundred and seventy-two pounds, thirteen shillings, and ninepence halfpenny, without the interest."

"That was no joke, Mr. Daly," said I.

"No; but what followed was," continued my equivocal friend. "My cabinet-minister applied for funds—I had none on hand. I therefore quitted London, and retired to the blest shades of Holyrood—not that this sort of constraint was at all necessary, for my friend, the sofa-maker, never troubled himself to inquire after me."

"Why, then, did you go?" said I.

"Why, you see I thought he might," replied Daly. "After I had hovered about Scotland, seen the sights, visited the Highlands, shot some grouse,—and a pretty job I made of that, umph!—I returned to Edinburgh, and began to be anxious to get back to London. I therefore took the resolution of killing myself forthwith."

"Horrible!" said I.

"Most horrible!" replied he; "nevertheless, I put that resolve into immediate execution."

"How?" I inquired.

"By transmitting an account of my death to the metropolitan newspapers in these words—'Died, at Antigua, on the 15th March, in the 28th year of his age, Robert Fergusson Daly, Esq., son of the late Thomas Fergusson Daly, Esq., of St. Mary Axe, London.'"

"What earthly purpose could that have answered?"

"You shall hear," said Daly. "About ten days after this announcement, having 'incurred' for a suit of mourning, I proceeded to my friend the upholsterer. Dear man, I recollect his little white bald head peering over his desk in the counting-house as well as if it were but yesterday—in I went—made a bow—up jumped my creditor.

"'Ah, Mr. Daly,' cried he, 'then what I have read in the newspaper is not true!—you are alive and merry.'

"Upon which I, looking as grave as a judge, said with a long-drawn sigh, 'Sir, I see you have fallen into the common mistake.'

"'Mistake, sir,' said he, 'no mistake in the world! Why, I read in the newspapers that you were dead. How those fellows do fib!'

"'In this instance,' I replied, 'they are as true as the tides to the moon—or the needle to the Pole.'

"'Why,' cried he, 'you are not dead, for here you are!'

"'So I am,' said I; 'but I am not the Mr. Daly who died in Antigua.'

"'That's very clear,' said the old cabinet-maker; 'for, as I said before, here you are.'

"'Still,' said I, 'sir,'—I thought the sir good—'you do not understand: I am the brother—the twin brother of poor Bob Daly who lived here with you, and who has died, as I unfortunately know, deep in your debt.'

"'What!' exclaimed the upholsterer, 'you his brother! Impossible—ridiculous! Why, I should know you from a thousand by that little knob on your nose.'

"'That may be, sir,' said I; 'but I was born with a knob on my nose as well as my brother. I assure you he is in his grave at Antigua.'

"This astounded him, and he was proceeding to ring the bell in order to call up the housemaid, who had made herself particularly familiar with my knob, in order to identify me, when I pacified him by fresh assurances that he was mistaken, and that I was come to settle the account due from my late brother to himself."

"This," said I, "was all very funny, no doubt; but cui bono?"

"Nous verrons," said Daly. "The moment I talked of paying, all doubt ended; he felt convinced that it could not be me; for he was quite of opinion that at that time I had no notion of muddling away my income in paying bills. So he listened, looking all the while at my knob—you see the thing I mean, Mr. Gurney," said Daly, pointing to a pimple; "till at last I begged to see his account—he produced it—I sighed—so did he.

"'Sir,' said he, 'this is—dear me, is it possible two people should be so much alike?—your brother's last account before he went.'

"I could not help saying, 'He is gone to his last account now, sir.' If it had been to save my life, I could never check my fun.

"'Lord, how like Mr. Robert that is!' said the upholsterer.

"'What is the amount?' said I.

"'Fourteen hundred and seventy-two pounds, thirteen shillings, and ninepence halfpenny. As for interest, Mr. Daly, I don't want it.'

"'Sir,' said I, drawing out of my pocket a handkerchief whiter than unsunned snow, 'I honour and reverence you. I can now account for the high respect and veneration with which my poor brother Bob used to speak of you and write about you. You shall judge what he has done;—he has died worth three thousand five hundred pounds; the claims upon him are numerous and heavy; in his letter, the last I ever received from him, he directs me to make an equitable division of his property.'

"'Poor fellow!' said the cabinet-maker.

"'An innocent young creature, with three children,' said I, 'first claims his care.'

"'Dear me!' said the man. 'Rely upon it I won't interfere there. No, no. I gave him credit further than he asked it. I won't visit his sins upon those who, perhaps, are helpless, and certainly blameless in this affair.'

"There was something so kind in this, that I was near betraying myself; but I should have spoiled the joke.

"'After those,' continued I, 'you come next; and, having divided his assets fairly, he decided that he could, acting conscientiously towards others, afford to pay you five shillings in the pound upon the amount due; and, accordingly, I have brought you to-day a sum calculated at that rate—that is to say, three hundred and sixty-eight pounds, thirteen shillings and sixpence, for I don't descend to fractions.'

"'Well, now,' said the honest old man, 'I love and honour him for that. He needn't have paid me a farthing. I knew not where he was;—and to think of me on his death-bed!—that, sir, shows good principle; and as you are so like him in everything else,—and how like him you are, to be sure!—I hope and trust—don't be angry, sir—that you will follow the example he has set you in the last act of his life.'

"'Then,' said I, 'you accept the proposal?'

"'Most happily, sir,' said he. 'I tell you I honour his feelings. I had given the whole thing up as lost: I thought he was a hard-hearted and a practised taker-in of credulous men——'

"'Sir,' said I, bowing, 'you little knew my poor brother Bob if you thought that. Here, sir, is the money; all I ask, as a satisfaction to the interesting young creature who survives him, is a receipt in full of all demands as against him.'

"'In course, Mr. Daly,' said the upholsterer, taking the notes I proffered. 'Why, la!' exclaimed he, 'I declare you have got the very ring on, that I have seen a hundred times, with a leetel patent key twisted into the inside, that he used to wear.'

"'Yes,' said I, rather taken aback at this; for with all my cunning I had forgotten to disring my finger for the occasion. 'Yes, it was the only thing he left me; and I wear it for his sake.'

"'And how well it fits!' said the cabinet-maker.

"'Often the case with twins,' said I. 'There are two hundred, three hundred, and fifty, a ten pound note, eight guineas, and five shillings and sixpence; count it yourself.

"'And now,' said he, 'I am to give you a receipt in full; to be sure I will. But I do wish you would do me one favour, sir,' continued he; 'I wish you would let my housemaid Becky see you; she was very fond of your poor brother, and very attentive to him, and I should—I know it is taking a great liberty—I should like her to see you.'

"'I should be too happy,' said I, trembling at the apprehension that the girl, who was more than usually civil to me while I lived in the lodgings, should make her appearance, convinced that she would not be deceived as to the identity, or believe in the story of two brothers having the same knobs on their noses; 'but don't you think it might shock the poor young woman?'

"'No, no, sir,' said he, looking over a black leather book for a proper stamp; 'Becky isn't frightened at trifles; shall I ring?'

"I could not help myself, and Becky was summoned. Luckily, however, she had just stepped out to get something, and satisfied, by the way in which the other servant conveyed the intelligence to her master, that it was not very probable she would soon return, I screwed my courage to the sticking-place, and remained until he had written, signed, and delivered my entire acquittance from my whole debt, in consideration of the receipt of three hundred and sixty-eight pounds thirteen shillings and sixpence; having secured which, I made my bow and left my upholsterer, not ill pleased with the adventure of the day."

"Yes, sir," said I, after I had heard this narrative, "but I see no joke in all this: it appears to me that a person less favourably disposed than myself would find a very different name for such a proceeding."

"So would anybody," said my valuable friend, "if it were not for the sequel. A short time after, I had the means to set all right, and lost no time in doing so; I confessed my ruse to my worthy friend, made him laugh heartily at his own credulity, paid him the difference, and gave Becky a guinea or two."

I honestly confess, that although my new friend polished off the end of his story with a few retributive facts, the account of his adventure with the cabinet-maker did not very much elevate him in my opinion, and I began again to repent of having hastily engaged myself as a passenger in his boat, so appropriately, as he himself said, called a "funny." The only consolation I could afford myself arose from the consideration that our connection would not be of long duration—that it need never be renewed—that few people, if any, would see me in my way up the river—and that, from all I had heard of him from himself, he did not appear likely to die a watery death, so that my personal safety was rather guaranteed than not, by my having placed myself under his command in our aquatic excursion.

I had never seen such a man before, nor have I ever seen such a one since: from the time he sat down to dinner till all was done, his tongue never ceased—he was au-fait at everything—played billiards better than anybody I ever saw—jumped higher—imitated birds and beasts, including men, women, and children, more correctly—caught more fish in an hour than all the rest of the punters did in three—sang all sorts of songs—made speeches—and told stories of himself which would have made my poor mother's hair stand on end. One of his practical jokes, played off upon one of the ladies of our party, I must set down. She had never been at Richmond before, or if she had, knew none of the little peculiarities attached to it. He desired the waiter to bring some "maids of honour"—those cheesecakes for which the place has been time out of mind so celebrated. The lady stared and then laughed; Daly saw her surprise, and elicited all he wanted—her innocent question of, "What do you mean by maids of honour?" "Dear me," said he, "don't you know that this is so courtly a place, and so completely under the influence of state etiquette, that everything in Richmond is called after the functionaries of the palace? What are called cheesecakes elsewhere, are here called maids of honour; a capon is a lord-chamberlain; a goose, a lord-steward; a roast pig is a master of the horse; a pair of ducks, grooms of the bedchamber; and a gooseberry tart, a gentleman usher of the black rod; and so on."

The unsophisticated lady was taken in; and with all the confidence which Daly's gravity inspired, when she actually saw the maids of honour make their appearance in the shape of cheesecakes, convulsed the whole party, by turning to the waiter and desiring him, in a sweet but decided tone, to bring her a gentleman usher of the black rod, if they had one in the house quite cold.

These were the sort of plaisanteries (mauvaises, if you will) in which this most extraordinary person indulged. In the sequel, I had occasion to see his versatile powers more profitably engaged, and which led me to reflect somewhat more seriously upon the adventure of the upholsterer and the receipt in full of all demands.

The dinner was rather inconveniently despatched, in order to suit the convenience of the engaged performers, and by seven o'clock my new friend and myself were left to commence our voyage up the river. His spirits appeared even higher than they had been before, and I felt myself, when consigned to his care, something in the same situation as Mr. O'Rourke on the eagle's back: whither I was to be carried by his influence, or how to be dashed down when he got tired of me I could not clearly comprehend; nor were my apprehension of consequences in any satisfactory degree diminished when my perilous companion commenced a violent wordy attack upon a very respectable round-bodied gentleman who was sitting squeezed into the stern-sheets of a skiff, floating most agreeably to himself adown the stream, the gentle south-west breeze giving the sail of his boat a shape very similar to that of his equally well-filled white dimity waistcoat.

"Hollo!" cried my friend Daly; "I say, you sir, what are you doing in that boat?"

The suburban Josh maintained a dignified silence.

"I say, you sir," continued the undaunted joker, "what are you doing there? you have no business in that boat, and you know it!"

A slight yaw of the skiff into the wind's eye was the only proof of the stout navigator's agitation.

Still Daly was inexorable, and he again called to the unhappy mariner to get out of the boat. "I tell you, my fat friend," cried he, "you have no business in that boat!"

Flesh and blood could not endure this reiterated declaration. The ire of the Cockney was roused. "No business in this boat, sir!" cried he, "what d'ye mean?"

"I mean what I say," said Daly; "you have no business in it, and I'll prove it."

"I think, sir, you will prove no such thing," said the navigator, whose progress through the water was none of the quickest; "perhaps you don't know, sir, that this is my own pleasure-boat?"

"That's it," said Daly, "now you have it—no man can have any business in a pleasure-boat. Good-day, sir. That's all."

I confess I was a good deal shocked at this mode of terminating the colloquy. However, no ill consequences arose; the fat man went his way, and so did we, and in a few minutes more embarked in Daly's "pleasure"-boat, in which I felt, according to his dictum, that I had no business whatever.

Richmond, which seems, every time one sees it, as if it were dressed to look lovely for that particular day, was smiling in all its radiance and gaiety; the velvet meadows of Twickenham, studded with noble trees, looked cooler and greener than ever; and my friend began to perform that incomprehensibly agreeable exercise of pulling up against the stream, when all at once a thought seemed to flash across his mind and a look of regret sadden his countenance; the expression was too distinct to be mistaken or disregarded.

"What," said I, "what is the matter? have you left anything behind?"

"No," said he, laughing; "but if I had thought of it, we would not have come away so soon from Richmond; and I would have shown you some sport in Cockney-catching."

"What do you mean?" asked innocent I.

"A trick specially my own," replied Daly, "to be played with the greatest success between the grounds of Sion and Kew Gardens. Thus:—In the dusk of the evening—I prescribe scientifically—take a strong line, fix him to a peg in the bank of Sion, carry him across the river, and fix him to another peg in the bank of Kew; strain him tight, and then retire to watch the effect. Tide running down, presently comes a Cockney couple, the man flirting and pulling, the lady sitting and smiling; when they reach the chosen spot, the tight line catches the Cockney Corydon on the back of his head, and tumbles him forward at the feet of his Phyllis; in a twinkling, the same effect is produced on the lady, with this single simple difference, that the cord catches her under the chin, and tumbles her backwards. In the confusion of the moment, tide ebbing fast, the happy pair are swept down the stream, and having, after the lapse of a few minutes, set themselves to rights again, begin to wonder what has happened, and of course never think of trying back against tide to ascertain the cause; which, however, if they did, would assist them little, for the moment you have caught your Cockneys, you cast off the line from the peg, and the cause of the mischief disappears from the sight—probatum est."

"That seems rather a serious joke," said I.

"Umph!" replied Daly; "perhaps you would prefer keeping the line, but for my part I am not particular."

This he certainly need not have mentioned. Every moment added fresh evidence to the fearful fact; I was yet unprepared for what was to come.

"I wish," said my friend, as he plied the oar, "that we had stayed a little longer at Richmond. I think one more bottle of claret, tête-à-tête, would have been vastly agreeable."

"I should not have disliked it myself," said I. "Is it impossible to repair the mischief?—is there no agreeable retreat on these shores, in which we may solace ourselves for our imprudence?"

"No," said my friend; "the Eel-pie House is a wretched hole—the inns at Twickenham are all inland—there is nothing marine short of the Toy, and we are to part long before I reach that much-loved spot."

"Then," said I, "we must make up our minds to the evil, and bear it as well as we can."

At this moment we were under the bank of a beautiful garden, upon which opened a spacious bow-windowed dinner-room, flanked by an extensive conservatory. Within the circle of the window was placed a table, whereon stood bottles and decanters, rising, as it were, from amidst a cornucopia of the choicest fruits. Around this table were seated a highly-respectable family; a portly gentleman, whose cheeks and chin gave ample evidence that such refections were "his custom always in the afternoon," and near him a lady, evidently his better, if not his larger half—on either side bloomed two young creatures, unquestionably the daughters of the well-fed pair. Our appearance, although the lawn was some twenty or thirty yards in depth, had caught their attention, as their respective forms and figures had attracted our notice.