* ••« ♦.'"•ft ,# a*8«ft- - Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2007 with funding from Microsoft Corporation http://www.archive.org/details/cruikshanksomnibOOcruirich GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S OMNIBUS. .1 ITW r . , if /\ v^ v, , PUBLISHED BY TILT &. BOCUE,8S ( FLLE" GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S OMNIBUS. ILLUSTRATED WITH ONE HUNDRED ENGRAVINGS ON STEEL AND WOOD. De Omnibus rebus ct quibusdam aliis." EDITED BY LAMAN BLANCHARD, ESQ. LONDON: TILT AND BOGUE, FLEET STREET. MDCCCXUI. LONDON : BRADBURY AND KVAN6, PRINTERS, WHITBFR1ARS. CONTENTS. " Our Preface," described. My Portrait 1 My last pair of Hessian Boots . . . 8 Epigram ...... 13 Love seeking a Lodging . . . . 14 Frank Heartwell ; or, Fifty Years Ago, 15, 39, 76, 112, 144, 177, 210, 246, 282. Monument to Napoleon . . .26 Photographic Phenomena; or, the New School of Portrait Painting . . . 29 Commentary on the New Police Act- Punch v. Law 33 Original Poetry, by the late Sir Fretful Plagiary, Knt. " Ode to the Human Heart," " On Life et cetera," &c. . . 35 Love has Legs . .... 52 Bernard Cavanagh, the Irish Camcleon . 53 The Ass on the Ladder . . .54 Omnibus Chat 59 Scene near Hogsnorton . , .61 Chancery Lane Enigma . . . . ib. Sonnets to Mat-ready .... 63 Large Order to a Homoeopathic Apothe- ' cary, &c 64 " My Vote and Interest." A Communi- cation from Mr. Simpleton Schemer, of Doltford Lodge, Crooksley . . 65 The Census 72 Love's Masquerading . . . .75 The Livery — Out of London . . . 89 Omnibus Chat 92 Legend of Van Diemen's Land . . 92 The Girl and the Philosopher . . . 94 The Grave of the Suicide (who thought better of it) ib. A Rigid Sense of Duty . . . . 95 Frights 97 A Peep into a Leg-of-Beef Shop . .100 PAGE 102 104 120 121 124 144 A Few Notes on Unpaid Letters . First Discovery of Van Demon's Land The Muffin Man .... A Tiger Hunt in England Omnibus Chat .... Ingenious Rogueries . The Sister Sciences of Botany and Horti-; culture . . . . , , 126 Photogenic Pictures, No. II. . . 127 A Negro Boy in the "West Indies . . ib. Legend of the Kilkenny Cats . . 128 Mademoiselle Rachel .... 129 Frights !— No. II 130 A Short Cruise at Margate . . .132 Epigrams 134 Passionate People • . . .135 Our New Cooks 141 A Song of Contradictions . . .143 A Warm Reception . . . . 151 Tea-Table Tattle . . . .152 Omnibus Chat ... . . 155 The Fashions . . . . ib. Playbills and Playgoing . . . ib. A Romance of the Orchestra . .156 One of the Curiosities of Literature . 157 An Incident of^Travel . . . 158 Here's a Bit of Fat for You . . 159 Heiress Presumptive . . . . ib. Letter from Mrs. Toddles . . .160 Frights!— No. III. Haunted Houses, &c. . 161 Little Spitz ; by Michael Angelo Titmarsh 167 Last Night of Vauxhall ; by Laman Blanchard 172 A Tale of the Times of Old . . .176 An Anacreontic Fable . . . . ib. How to Raise the Wind ; by Captain Marryatt, R.N 182 Peep at Bartholomew Fair ; by Alpha . 188 VI CONTENTS. PAGE 191 Omnibus Chat .... Association of Ideas Boys at Sohool .... The Laceman's Lament The Height of Impudence Mrs. T. again .... The Artificial Floor for Skating . Duns Demonstrated ; by Edward Howard Author of " Rattlin the Reefer" The Second Sleeper Awakened. Trans lated by AH .... Just Going Out ; by Laman Blanchard 204 A Theatrical Curiosity . . . .216 Sliding Scales 217 Sketches Here, There, and Everywhere ; by A. Bird. A Stage-coach Race Another Curiosity of Literature A Horrible Passage in My Early Life Two of a Trade Omnibus Chat The Two Naval Heroes . Tar and Feathers . ... An Acatalectic Monody . Third Meeting of the Bright-ish Asso- ciation for the Advancement of Everything Rum Corks in Stout Bottles . . . A Highway Adventure Bearded like the Pard . . . . Some Account of the Life and Times of Mrs. Sarah Toddles ; by Sam Sly . The Fire at the Tower of London . Miss Adelaide Kemble . . . . Jack Gay, Abroad and at Home ; Laman Blanchard. . ib. 194 ib. 195 196 197 . 199 202 218 222 223 225 226 ib. 227 ib. 229 230 ib. 231 233 238 by 240 The King of Brentford's Testament ; by Michael Angelo Titmarsh . . . The Fire King Flue .... A Passage in the Life of Mr. John Leakey Omnibus Chat The Clerk, a Parody. The British Association . . . Playing on the Piano November Weather . . . . Mrs. Toddles Jack-o'lantern Christmas. By Sam Sly . . • A Snap- Dragon. By Charles Hookey "Walker, Esq Sonnet to "Some One M . . . . The Homceopathist's Serenade. By Dr. Bulgardo . . . . . What do you do that for? . . . Lines by a Y — g L — y of F — sh — on The Frolics of Time. A Striking Adven- ture. By Laman Blanchard, Esq. A Peep (Poetic) at the Age. By A. Bird A Still-life Sketch A Tale of an Inn .... "Such a Duck!" The Postilion « The Horse by the Head" . . . A Floating Recollection . . The Pauper's Chaunt .... Sketches Here, There, and Everywhere . Mrs. Toddles Sonnet to Mrs. Toddles Postscript 244 254 255 260 ib. 261 ib. 265 266 267 ib. ib. 268 271 372 276 277 278 281 289 292 293 294 295 299 300 304 • LIST OF ETCHINGS ON STEEL. ,( DK OMNIBUS RKBU3 KT QUIBUSDAM ALUS." PREFACE . PORTRAIT OF GEORGE CRUIKSHANK .... FRANK HEARTWELL, OR FIFTY TEARS AGO COMMENTARY UPON THE NEW POLICE ACT, NO. I. COMMENTARY UPON THE NEW POLICE ACT, NO. II. FRANK HEARTWELL'S FIRST INTERVIEW WITH BRADY "RUSH TO THE POLL" — AN ELECTION SQUIB FRANK HEARTWELL AND SAMBO, IN THE HOLD OF THE TENDER FRIGHTS, NO. I. — " FLYING BEADLES "... FRANK HEARTWELL, BEN, AND SAMBO, AMUSING THE NATIVES . PORTRAIT OF RACHEL IN THE CHARACTER OF MARIE STUART FRIGHTS, NO. II. — " THIEVES. " — "THE STRANGE CAT" RICHARD BROTHERS, THE PROPHET, AT MRS. HEARTWELL'S FRIGHTS, NO. III. — " GHOSTS " .... FRANK HEARTWELL DISCOVERING THE TREASURE . A SKAITING PARTY . ..... FRANK HEARTWELL PREPARING TO SWIM TO THE WRECK . BREAKING INTO " THE JEWEL ROOM" AT THE TOWER PORTRAIT OF MISS ADELAIDE KEMBLE . . FRANK HEARTWELL SEIZING BRADY .... JACK O'LANTERN . FRANK HEARTWELL ...... PAGE to face title . . 1 . 15 . . 33 . 34 . . 47 . 65 . . 85 . 97 . . 116 . 129 . . 130 . 147 . . 161 . 181 . . 197 . 214 . 233 . . 238 . .252 . 265 287 LIST OF WOOD-CUTS. PAGE 1. Th8 peep-show .... Preface 2. Bust of Sliakspeare with pipe . . 2 3. G. C. in a drawing-room ... 4 4. G. C. and a cabman 5 5. A pair of bellows 6 6. My last pair of Hessians .... 8 j 7. A pair of shoes 13 8. Love seeking a lodging . . . . 14 9. Monument to Napoleon .... 26 10. Photographic painting .... 29 11. The sun painting all the world and his wife 32 12. Love has legs 52 13. The ass climbing the ladder . . 54 14. The ass on the ladder .... 54 15. The boy on the ladder .... 54 16. Ditto 56 17. A large order 64 18. Love masquerading 75 19. Foot-boy and bread 90 20. Footman and pups 91 21. Coachman and dumplings ... 92 22. A rigid sense of duty .... 95 23. Mrs. Toddle* 96 24. Leg-of-beef shop 100 25. The Flying Dutchman .... 106 26. Kangaroo dance 109 27. Kangaroo and fiddler Ill 28. The muffin-man 120 29. The strange cat 131 30. The round hat and the cocked hat 132 31. Sailor chasing Napoleon . . . .134 32. A passionate man 138 33. Ttree 152 34. Emperor of China cutting off his own nose . . ..... 153 35. Chinese cavalry 153 36; Tea-pot 154 37. The fashions 155 38. The boy's revenge 159 PAGE 39. The living pincushion .... 159 40. Mrs. Toddles 160 41. Materials for making a ghost . . 163 42. The ghost 163 43. The bell-pull and the pigtail . .166 44. Little Spitz 167 45. Last night of Vauxhall— the balloon 172 46. Simpson a la Shakspeare . . .175 47. Cupid with an umbrella . . .176 48. Love breaking hearts 176 49. Height of impudence . . . . .195 50. Mrs. Toddles at Margate . . .196 51. Ditto . 196 52. The Dun 200 53. The Second Sleeper .... 202 54. Sliding Scale 217 55. Mile- stones — on the Rail-road . 222 56. Butcher's Boy 225 57. Tar and Feathers 227 58. Corks 229 59. Turnpikeman and the Elephant . 230 60. Three Figures of Fashion . . . 230 61. Plan of the Tower of London . 233 62. Bowyer Tower 235 63. Camperdown Anchor .... 235 64. Lady Jane's Room 236 65. The Fire-king Flue .... 236 66. Grenadiers playing on the Piano . 262 67. Fireman playing on a Piano . . 263 68. Colonel Walker (or Talker) . . 264 69. Mrs. Toddles in a Fit . . . . 264 70. Such a Duck 281 71. The Horse by the Head ... 292 72. Sheer Tyranny 294 73. Sheer Kindness 294 74. Pope's Guard 296 75. Building an Angel 297 76. Mrs. Toddles in the Dickey . . 299 77. Mrs. T. and the Colonel dancing . 299 78. As Broad as it's Long .... 300 OUR PREFACE. We have been entreated by a great many juvenile friends to "tell 'em all about our Engraved Preface in No. I. ;" and entreaties from tender juveniles we never could resist. So, for their sakes, we enter into a little explanation concerning the great matters crowded into " our Preface." All children of a larger growth are, therefore, warned to skip this page if they please — it is not for them, who are, of course, familiar with the ways ot the world — but only for the little dears who require a Guide to the great Globe they are just beginning to inhabit. Showman. — " Now then, my little masters and missis, run home to your mammas, and cry till they give you all a shilling apiece, and then bring it to me, and I'll show you all the pretty pictures." So now, my little masters and misses, have you each got your No. 1 ready ? Always take care of that. Now then, please to look at the top of the circular picture which represents the world, and there you behold Her Majesty Queen Victoria on her throne, holding a court, with Prince Albert, in his field-marshal's uniform, by her side, and surrounded by ladies, nobles, and officers of state. A little to the right are the heads of the Universities, about to present an address. Above the throne you behold the noble dome of St. Paul's, on each side of which may be seen the tall masts of the British navy. Cast your eyes, my pretty dears, below the throne, and there you behold Mr. and Mrs. John Bull, and three little Bulls, with their little bull-dog ; one little master is riding his papa's walking-stick, while his elder brother is flying his kite — a pastime to which a great many Bulls are much at- tached. Miss Bull is content to be a little lady with a leetle parasol, like her mamma. To the right of the kite you behold an armed man on horseback, one of those curious figures which, composed of goldbeater's skin, used to be sent up some years ago to astonish the natives ; only they frightened 'em into fits, and are not now sent up, in consequence of being put down. And now you see " the world goes round." Turn your eyes a little to the right to the baloon and parachute, and then look down under the smoke of a steamer, and you behold a little sweep flourishing his brush on the chimney-top, and wishing perhaps that he was down below there with Jack-in-the-green. Now then, a little more to the right — where you see a merry dancing-group of our light-heeled and light-hearted neighbours, the leader of the party playing the fiddle and dancing on stilts, while one of his country- men is flying his favourite national kite — viz., the soldier. In the same vicinity, are groups of German gentlemen, some waltzing, and some smoking meerschaums ; near these are foot-soldiers and lancers supporting the kite-flyer. Now, near the horse, my little dears, you will see the mule, together with the Spanish muleteers, who, if not too tired, would like to take part in that fandango performed to the music of the light guitar. Look a little to the left, and you behold a quadrille-party, where a gentleman in black is pastorale-ing all the chalk off the floor ; and now turn your eyes just above these, and you behold a joyful party of convivialists, with bottles in the ice-pail and bumpers raised, most likely to the health of our gracious Queen, or in honour of the Great Captain of the Age. And now, my little dears, turn your eyes in a straight line to the right, and you will perceive St. Peter's at Rome, beneath which are two young cardinals playing at GEORGE CRUIKSHANK S OMNIBUS. leap-frog, not at all frightened at the grand eruption of Mount Vesuvius which is going on in the distance. From this you must take a leap on to the camel's back, from which you will obtain a view of the party sitting just below, which consists of the grand Sultan smoking desperately against AH Pacha. Now, look a little lower down, and you will see a famous crocodile-catcher of the Nile, said to bear a striking resemblance to Com- modore Napier ; and now, look upwards again to the farthest verge, and you behold the great Pyramid, and a wild horseman chasing an ostrich not so wild as himself. Now, the world goes round a little more, and you see some vast mountains, together with the temples of Hindostan ; and upon the palm-tree you will find the monkeys pulling one another's tails, being very uneducated and having nothing else to do : here, also, you will discern the Indian jugglers, one throwing the balls, and another swallowing the sword, a very common thing in these parts. And now, my little dears, you can plainly see several very independent gentlemen and loyal subjects standing on their heads in presence of the Emperor of ever so many worlds, and the brother of the sun and moon ; and behind these, hiding the wall of China, you will see a quantity of steam, (for they are in hot water there, ) that issues from the tea-kettles. Leaving his Celestial Majesty smoking his opium, and passing the junks, temples, and pagodas, you see a Chinese joss upon his pedestal ; and now you can descend and join that pretty little tea-party, where you will recognise some of your old acquaintances on tea-cups ; only, if you are afraid of the lion which you see a long way off, you can turn to the left, and follow the tiger that is following the elephant like mad : and now, my little dears, you can jump for safety into that palanquin carried by the sable gentry, or perhaps you would join the party of Persians seated a little lower, only they have but one dish and no plates to eat out of. Just above this dinner-party you behold some live venison, or a little antelope eating his grass for dinner while a boa-constrictor is creeping up with the intention of dining upon him ; so you had better make your way to that giraffe, who is feeding upon the tops of trees, which habit is supposed to have occasioned the peculiar shape of that remarkable qua- druped ; and now you fall again in the way of that ramping lion, from whose jaws a black is retreating only to encounter a black brother more savage than the wild beast. And now, if your eye follows that gang of slaves, chained neck to neck, who are being driven off to another part of the world, you will see what treatment they are doomed to experience there, in the flogging which is being administered to one of their colour — that is to say, black as the vapour issuing from that mountain in the distance ; it is Chimborao, or Cotapaxi, I can't say exactly which, but it shall be whichever you please, my pretty little dears. In the smoke of it an eagle is carrying off a lamb — do you see ? — Stop, let me wipe the glasses ! — Ah, yes, and now you can clearly behold a gentleman of the United States smoking his cigar in his rocking-chair. A little behind is another gentle- man driving his sleigh, and in front you won't fail to see an astonishing personage, who has just caught a cayman, or American crocodile, which he is balancing on his walking- stick, on purpose to amuse little boys and girls like you. At his side is the celebrated runaway nigger represented by Mr. Mathews, who says, " Me no likee confounded workee ; me likee to sit in a sun, and play fiddle all day.' ' Over his head is a steam-vessel, and at his feet an Indian canoe ; towards it a volume of smoke is ascending from a fire, round which some savages are dancing with feeling too horrible to think of. So instead of stopping to dinner here, my little masters and misses, you would much rather, I dare say, take pot-luck with that group of gipsies above, who are going to regale upon a pair of boiled fowls, which I hope they came honestly by. Talking of honesty, we start upwards to the race-course ; and now goes the world round again, until you get sight of a gentleman with a stick in his hand, who has evidently a great stake in the race, and who is so rejoiced at having won, that he is unconscious of what he is all the while losing in the abstraction of his pocket-book. And now we are in the midst of the fair, where we see the best booth, and merry doings in the shape of a boxing-match ; but as M music has charms," turn your eyes and your ears too some little distance downwards in the direction of the organ player and the tambourine, where you will find some jovial drinkers, not far from the harp and violin of the quadrille-party. I hope their music won't be drowned by the noise of that Indian, to the left, beating the tom-tom, while the nautch-girls are dancing as if they couldn't help it, all to amuse the mighty Emperor of all the Smokers and Prince of Tobacco, who is seated, hookah in hand, in the centre of the globe — where we must leave him to his enjoyment, tracing our way back to the jovial drinking-party, where you will see Jack capering ashore, and getting on perhaps a little too fast, while the donkey-boy above him can't get on at all, and the fox-hunter, still higher up, seems to be in danger of getting off — especially if his horse should happen to be startled by his brother-sportsman's gun behind him. And now, my little dears, the eun has brought us round again to the royal guards, where the band is playing, in glorious style, God save the Queen ! And thus ends, where it began, my History of the World ! GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S OMNIBUS. " MY PORTRAIT." I respectfully beg leave to assure all to whom " My Portrait" shall come, that I am not now moved to its publication, for the first time, by any one of the ten thousand considerations that ordinarily influence modest men in presenting their " counterfeit presentments" to the public gaze. Mine would possibly never have appeared at all, but for the opportunity thus afforded me of clearing up any mistakes that may have been originated by a pen-and-ink sketch which recently appeared in a publication entitled " Portraits of Public Characters." The writer of that sketch was evidently animated by a spirit of kindness, and to kindness I am always sensitively alive; but he has been misinformed — he has represented me u as I am not," instead of " as I am ;" and although it is by no means necessary that I should offer " some account of myself" in print, it is desirable that I should, without fatiguing anybody, correct some half-dozen of the errors into which my biographer has fallen. A few words of extract, and a few more of comment, and my object, as the moralist declares when he seeks to lure back one sinner to the paths of virtue, will be fully attained. The sketch, which professes to be " my portrait," opens thus : — (1.) " I believe Geo. Cruiksbank dislikes the name of artist, as being too common-place." I have my dislikes ; but it happens that they always extend to things, and never settle upon mere names. He must be a simpleton indeed who dislikes the name of artist when he is not ashamed of his art. It is pos- sible that I may once in my life, when " very young," have said that I would rather carry a portmanteau than a portfolio through the streets ; and this, perhaps from a recollection of once bearing a copper- plate, not sufficiently concealed from the eyes of an observant public, under my arm, and provoking a salutation from a little ragged urchin, shouting at the top of his voice, hand to mouth — " There goes a copper plate en-gra- ver ! " It is true, that as I walked on I experienced a sense of the un- comfortableness of that species of publicity, and felt that the eyes of Europe were very inconveniently directed to me ; but I did not, even in that moment of mortification, feel ashamed of my calling: I did not f dislike the name of artist." (2.) ** When a very young man, it was doubtful whether the weakness of his eyes would not prove a barrier to his success as an artist." When a very young man, I was rather shortsighted, in more senses than one ; but weak eyes I never had. The blessing of a strong and healthy no. 1 —VOL. I. B 2 GEORGE CRUIKSIIANK'S OMNIBUS. vision has been mine from birth ; and at any period of time since that event took place, I have been able, even with one eye, to see very clearly through a millstone, upon merely applying the single optic, right or left, to the centrical orifice perforated therein. But for the imputation of weakness in that particular, I never should have boasted of my capital eye ; especially (as an aged punster suggests) when I am compelled to use the capital I so often in this article. (3.) M The gallery in which George first studied his art, was, if the statement of the author of ■ Three Courses and a Dessert ' may be depended on, the tap-room of a low public-house, in the dark, dirty, narrow lanes which branch off from one of the great thoroughfares towards the Thames. And where could he have found a more fitting place? where could he have met with more appropriate characters ? — for the house was frequented, to the exclusion of everybody else, by Irish coal-heavers, hodmen, dustmen, scavengers, and so forth !" I shall mention, mi passant^ that there are no Irish coal-heavers : I may mention, too, that the statement of the author adverted to is not to be depended on ; were he living, I should show why. And now to the scene of my so-called " first studies." There was, in the neighbour- hood in which I resided, a low public-house ; it has since degenerated into a gin-palace. It was frequented by coal-heavers only, and it stood in Wilderness-lane, (I like to be particular,) between Primrose-hill and Dorset-street, Salisbury-square, Fleet-street. To this house of inelegant resort, (the sign was startling, the " Lion in the Wood,") which I regularly passed in my way to and from the Temple, my attention was one night especially attracted, by the sounds of a fiddle, together with other indica- tions of festivity; when, glancing towards the tap-room window, I could plainly discern a small bust of Shakspeare placed over the chimney-piece, with a short pipe stuck in its mouth, thus — This was not clothing the palpable and the familiar with golden exhalations from the dawn, but it was reducing the glorious and immortal beauty of Apollo himself to a level with the com- mon-place and the vulgar. Yet there was some- thing not to be quarrelled with in the association of ideas to which that object led. It struck me to be the perfection of the human picturesque. It was a palpable meeting of the Sublime and the Ridiculous; the world of Intellect and Poetry qc *«*• seemed thrown open to the meanest capacity; extremes had met ; the highost and the lowest had united in harmonious fellowship. I thought of what the great poet had himself been, of the parts that he had played, and the wonders he had wrought, within a stoneV throw of that very spot ; and feeling that even he might have well wished to be there, the pleased spectator of that lower world, it was im- possible not to recognise the fitness of the pipe. It was the only pipe that would have become the mouth of a poet in that extraordinary scene ; and without it, he himself would have wanted majesty and the right to be present. I fancied that Sir Walter Raleigh might have filled it for him. And what a scene was that to preside over and to contemplate* ! What a picture of life was there ! It was as though Death were dead! It was all * An exact representation of it will embellish a future "Omnibus." "MY portrait. 3 life. In simpler words, I saw, on approaching the window and peeping between the short red curtains, a swarm of jolly coal-heavers ! Coal- heavers all — save a few of the fairer and softer sex — the wives of some of them — all enjoying the hour with an intensity not to be disputed, and in a manner singularly characteristic of the tastes and propensities of aris- tocratic and fashionable society ; — that is to say, they were " dancing and taking refreshments." They only did what " their betters " were doing elsewhere. The living Shakspeare, had he been, indeed, in the presence, would but have seen a common humanity working out its objects, and have felt that the omega, though the last in the alphabet, has an astonishing sympathy with the alpha that stands first. This incident, may I be permitted to say, led me to study the charac- ters of that particular class of society, and laid the foundation of scenes afterwards published. The locality and the characters were different, the spirit was the same. Was I, therefore, what the statement I have quoted would lead anybody to infer I was, the companion of dustmen, hodmen, coal-heavers, and scavengers ? I leave out the " and so forth" as superflu- ous. It would be just as fair to assume that Morland was the companion of pigs, that Liston was the associate of louts and footmen, or that Field- ing lived in fraternal intimacy with Jonathan "Wild. (4.) " With Mr. Hone" (afterwards designated "the most noted infidel of his day") " he had long been on terms not only of intimacy, but of warm friendship." A very select class of associates to be assigned to an inoffensive artist by a friendly biographer ; coal-heavers, hodmen, dustmen, and scavengers for my companions, and the most noted infidel of his day for my inti- mate friend ! What Mr. Hone's religious creed may have been at that time, I am far from being able to decide ; I was too young to know more than that he seemed deeply read in theological questions, and, although unsettled in his opinions, always professed to be a Christian. I knew also that his conduct was regulated by the strictest morality. He had been brought up to detest the Church of Rome, and to look upon the " Church of England " service as little better than popish ceremonies ; and with this feeling, he parodied some portions of the Church service for purposes of political satire. But with these publications / had nothing whatever to do ; and the instant I heard of their appearance, I entreated him to withdraw them. That I was his friend, is true ; and it is true, also, that among his friends were many persons, not more admired for their literary genius, than esteemed for their zeal in behalf of religion and morals. (5.) " Not only is George a decided liberal, but his liberalism has with him all the authority of a moral law." I have already said, that I never quarrel with names, but with things ; yet as so many and such opposite interpretations of the terms quoted are afloat, and as some of them are not very intelligible, I wish explicitly to enter my protest against every reading of the word " liberal," as appli- cable to me, save that which I find attributed to it in an old and seemingly forgotten dictionary — " Becoming a gentleman, generous, not mean." (6.) "Even on any terras his genius could not, for some time past, be said to have been marketable, Mr. Bentley the bookseller having contrived to monopolise his professional labours for publications with which he is connected." This assertion was to a certain extent "true, while I was illustrating 4 GEORGE CRUIKSHANKS OMNIBUS. Oliver Twist and Jack Sheppard, works to which I devoted my best exertions ; but so far from effecting a monopoly of my labours, the pub- lisher in question has not for a twelvemonth past had from me more than a single plate for his monthly Miscellany ; nor will he ever have more than that single plate per month ; nor shall I ever illustrate any other work that he may publish. (7.) " He sometimes sits at his window to see the patrons of ' Vite Condick Ouse ' on their Way to that well-known locality on Sundays," &c As my " extraordinary memory " is afterwards denned to be " some- thing resembling a supernatural gift," it ought to enable me to recollect this habit of mine ; yet I should have deemed myself as innocent of such a mode of spending the Sabbath as Sir Andrew Agnew himself, but for this extraordinary discovery. I am said to have " the most vivid remembrance of anything droll or ludicrous ;" and yet I cannot remember sitting at the window " on a Sunday " to survey the motley multitude strolling towards " Vite Condick Ouse." I wish the invisible girl would sell me her secret. (8.) " He is a very singular, and, in some respects, eccentric man, considered, as what he himself would call, a ' social being.' The ludicrous and extraordinary fancies with which his mind is constantly teeming often impart a sort of wildness to his look, and peculiarity to his manner, which would suffice to frighten from his presence those unacquainted with him. He is often so uncourteous and abrupt in his manner as to incur the charge of seeming rudeness.' Though unaccustomed to spend the Sabbath day in the manner here thumps 01 " MY PORTRAIT. indicated, I have never yet been regarded as Saint George ; neither, on the other hand, have I ever before been represented as the Dragon ! Time was, when the dove was not more gentle ; but now I " frighten people from my presence," and the isle from its propriety. The " Saracen's Head " is all suavity and seductiveness compared to mine. Forty thousand knockers, with all their quantity of fright, would not make up my sum. I enter a drawing-room, it may be supposed, like one prepared to go the whole griffin. Gorgons, and monsters, and chimeras dire, are concentrated by multitudes in my person. The aspect of Miss Jemima Jones, who is enchanting the assembled party with " See the conquering hero comes," instantaneously assumes the expression of a person singing " Monster, away." All London is Want- ley, and all Wantley is terror-stricken wherever I go. I am as uncourteous as a gust of wind, as abrupt as a flash of lightning, and as rude as the bil- lows of the sea. But of all this, be it known that I am " unconscious." This is acknowledged ; " he is himself unconscious of this," which is true to the very letter, and very sweet it is to light at last upon an entire and perfect fact. But enjoying this happy unconsciousness — sharing it more- over with my friends, why wake me from the delusion ! Why excite my imagination, and unstring my nerves, with visions of nursery-maids flying before me in my suburban walks — of fender innocents in arms frightened into fits at my approach, of five-bottle men turning pale in my presence, of banquet-halls deserted on my entrance ! (9.) " G. C. is the only man I know mov- ing in a respectable sphere of life who is a match for the under class of cabmen. He meets them on their own ground, and fights them with their own weapons. The moment they begin to swagger, to bluster, and abuse, he darts a look at them, which, in two cases out of three, has the effect of reducing them to a tolerable state of civility; but if looks do not produce the desired results — if the eyes do not operate like oil thrown on the troubled waters, he talks to them in tones which, aided as his words and lungs are by the fire and fury darting from his eye, and the vehemence of his gesticulation, silence poor Jehu effectually," &c. Fact is told in fewer words than ^ fiction. It so happens that I never had a dispute with a cabman in my life, possibly because I never pro- voked one. From me they are sure of a civil word ; I generally open the door to let myself in, and always to let myself out ; nay, unless they are very active indeed, I hand the money to them on the box, and shut the door to save them the trouble of descending. " The greatest is behind " — I invariably pay them more than their fare; and frequently, by the exer- cise of a generous forgetfulness, make them a present of an umbrella, pair of gloves, or a handkerchief. At times, I have gone so far as to leave them a few sketches, as an inspection of the albums of their wives and daughters (they have their albums doubtless) would abundantly testify. /rCrni* 5 6 GEORGE CRUIXSIIANKS OMNIBUS. (10.) "And yet be can make himself exceedingly agreeable both in conversation and manners when he is in the humour so to do. I have met with persons who have been loaded with his civilities and attention. T know instances in which he has spent considerable time in showing strangers everything curious in the house ; he is a collector of curiosities." No single symp- I was about to say that no single symptom of a curiosity, however insignificant, is visible in my dwelling, when by audible tokens I was (or rather am) rendered sensible of the exist- ence of a pair of bellows. Well, in these it must be admitted that we do possess a curiosity. We call them " bel- lows," because, on a close inspection, they appear to bear a much stronger resem- blance to " bellows " than to any other species of domestic implement ; but what in reality they are, the next annual meet- ing of the great Scientific Association must determine ; or the public may decide for themselves when admitted hereafter to view the precious deposit in the British Museum. In the mean time, I vainly essay to picture the unpicturable. Eccentric, noseless, broken-winded, dilapidated, but immortal, these bellows have been condemned to be burnt a thousand times at least ; but they are bellows of such an obstinate turn of mind that to destroy them is impos- sible. No matter how imperative the order — how immediate the hour of sacrifice, they are sure to escape. So much for old maxims ; we may " sing old Rose," but we cannot " burn the bellows." As often as a family accident happens — such as the arrival of a new servant, or the sudden necessity for rekindling an expiring fire, out come the bellows, and forth go into the most secret and silent corners of the house such sounds of wheezing, squeaking, groaning, screaming, and sighing, as might be heard in a louder, but not more intolerable key, beneath the roaring fires of Etna. Then, rising above these mingled notes, issues the rapid ringing of two bells at once, succeeded by a stern injunction to the startled domestic " never on any account to use those bellows again," but, on the contrary, to burn, eject, and destroy them without reservation or remorse. One might as well issue orders to burn the east wind. A magic more powerful even than womanly tenderness preserves them ; and six weeks afterwards forth rolls once more that world of wondrous noises. Let no one imagine that I have really sketched the bellows, unless I had sketched their multitudinous voice. What I have felt when drawing Punch is, that it was easy to represent his eyes, his nose, his mouth ; but that the one essential was after all wanting — the squeak. The musician who undertook to convey by a single sound a sense of the peculiar smell of the shape of a drum, could alone picture to the eye the howlings and whisperings of the preternatural bellows. Now you hear a moaning as of one put to the torture, and may detect both the motion of the engine and the cracking of the joints ; anon cometh a sound as of an old beldame half inebriated, coughing and chuckling. A sigh as from the depths of a woman's heart torn with love, or the " lover sighing like furnace," succeeds to this ; and presently break out altogether — each separate note of the straining pack struggling to be foremost — the yelping of a cur, the bellowing of a school- boy, the tones of a cracked flute played by a learner,the grinding of notched knives, the slow ringing of a muffled muffin-bell, the interrupted rush of water down a leaky pipe, the motion of a pendulum that does not know its own mind, the creaking of a prison-door, and the voice of one who crieth the last dying speech and confession ; together with fifty thousand similar sounds, each as pleasant to the ear as " When am I to have the eighteen-pence" would be, to a man who never had a shilling since the day he was breeched. The origin of the bellows, I know not ; but a suspicion has seized me that they might have been employed in the Ark had there been a kitchen-fire there ; and they may have assisted in raising a flame under the first tea-kettle put on to celebrate the laying of the first stone of the great wall of China. They are ages upon ages older than the bel- lows of Simple Simon's mother ; and were they by him to be ripped open, they could not possibly be deteriorated in quality. The bellows which yet bear the inscription, " Who rides on these bellows ? The prince of good fellows, Willy Shakspeare," are a thing of yesterday beside these, which look as if they had been industriously exercised by some energetic Greek in fanning the earliest flame of Troy. To descend to later days, they must have invigorated the blaze at which Tobias Shandy lighted his undying pipe, and kindled a generous blaze under that hashed mutton which has rendered Amelia im- mortal. But " the days are gone when beauty bright" followed quick upon the breath of the bellows : their effect at present is, to give the fire a bad cold ; they blow an influenza into the grate. Empires rise and fall, and a century hence the bellows may be as good as new. Like puffing, they will know no end. (11.) And lastly — for the personality of this paragraph warns me to conclude — "In person G. C. is about the middle height and proportionally made. Hi3 complexion is something between pale and clear ; and his hair, which is tolerably ample, partakes of a lightish hue. His face is of the angular form, and his forehead has a prominently receding shape." As Hamlet said to the ghost, I'll go no further ! The indefinite com- plexion, and the hair " partaking " of an opposite hue to the real one, may be borne ; but I stand, not upon my head, but on my forehead ! To a man who has once passed the Rubicon in having dared to publish his portrait, the exhibition of his mere profile can do no more injury than a pelty larceny would after the perpetration of a highway robbery. But why be tempted to show, by an outline, that my forehead is innocent of a shape (the rt prominently receding " one) that never yet was visible ia nature or in art ? Let it pass, till it can be explained. " He delights in a handsome pair of whiskers." Nero had one flower flung upon his tomb. " He has somewhat of a dandified appearance." Flowers soon fade, and are cut down ; and this is the " unkinde3t cut of all." I who, humbly co-operating with the press, have helped to give permanence to the name of dandy — I who have all my life been breaking 8 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK's OMNIBUS. butterflies upon wheels in warring against dandyism and dandies — am at last discovered to be " somewhat" of a dandy myself. ** Come Antony, and young Octavius, come ! Revenge yourselves — " as you may ; — but, dandies all, I have not done with you yet. To resume. " He used to be exceedingly partial to Hessian boots/' I confess to the boots ; but it was when they were worn even by men who walked on loggats. I had legs. Besides, I was very young, and merely put on my boots to follow the fashion. " His age, if his looks be not decep- tive, is somewhere between forty- three and forty-five." A very obscure and elaborated mode of insinuating that I am forty-^bwr. " Somewhere be- tween ! " The truth is — though nothing but extreme provocation should induce me to proclaim even truth when age is concerned, — that I am " somewhere between" twenty-seven and sixty-three, or I may say sixty- four ; — but I hate exaggeration. Exit, G. Ck. MY LAST PAIR OF HESSIAN BOOTS. "■* Ab ! sure a pair was never seen So justly formed — " oby would say, that as " all are not men who bear the human form," so all are not boots that bear the pedal shape. All boots, for example, are not Hessians ; nor are all Hessians like my last pair. Mathews used to tell a story of some French Hoby, who, having with incredible genius constructed a pair of boots, which Tom Thumb when a little boy could no more have got on than Cinderella's sister could the magic slipper, refused to part with them for any sum of money — he had "made them in a moment of enthusiasm." Myriads of such moments were con- sumed in the construction of my last pair. The boots published by Mr. Warren in magazines and country newspapers, exhibiting the grinning portrait of a gentleman in the interesting act of shaving, or a cat bristlingup and outwondering Katerfelto, were vulgar in form, and dull of polish, beside mine Hessians. Pleasant it was, just as I was budding into life, to draw them on, and sit with one knee crossing the other, to contemplate my favourite leg. I used to wish myself a centipede, to wear fifty pairs of Hessians at a time. To say that the boots " fitted like gloves " would be to pay the most felicitous pair of white kids a compliment. They had just as many natural wrinkles as they ought to have ; and for the tassels — we have all seen the dandies of that day take out a comb, and comb the tassels of their fire-bucket-looking boots as often as they got into disorder ; but mine needed no aid from such trickery and finessing. MY LAST PAIR OP HESSIAN BOOTS. 9 I had strolled forth at the decline of a day in spring, and had afterwards dined at Long's — my boots and I. They had evidently been the admi- ration of every observer. I was entirely satisfied with them, and conse- quently with myself. Returned home, a pair of slippers was substituted for them, and with my feet on the fender and the vapour of a cigar enwrapping me like a dressing-gown, I sat contemplating " my boots." Thought reverted to the fortunes of my Lord Marquis of Carabas, and I saw in my Hessians a brighter destiny than Puss in hers won for him. I thought too of the seven-leagued boots of my ancient friends the Ogres, and felt that I could take Old and New Bond Streets at a step. That night those boots melted into thin air. There was " nothing like leather " visible there in the morning. My golden vision had vanished as suddenly as Alnaschar's — only his perished amidst the crash and clatter of a basket of crockery kicked into the clouds ; mine had stolen away in solemn silence. Not a creak was heard, yet the Hessians were gone. It was the remark of my housekeeper that boots could not go without hands. Such boots I thought might possibly have walked off by them- selves. But when it was discovered that a window-shutter had been forced open, and sundry valuables carried away, it was plain that some conceited and ambitious burglar had eloped with my boots. The sus- picion was confirmed by the detection of a pair of shoes conscientiously left behind, on the principle that exchange is no robbery. Ugh ! — such shoes. Well might I declare that nothing like leather was visible. "What odious feet had been thrust into my desecrated Hessians ! I put my legs into mourning for their loss ; and, convinced that I should never procure such another pair, sank from that moment into mere "Wellingtons. It was not long after this, that, seated in a coffee-room in Piccadilly, my attention was drawn to the indolent and comfortable attitude of a person, who, with his legs stretched conspicuously along the cushioned bench, was reading a newspaper. How it was I can hardly tell ; but my eye was irresistibly attracted to his boots, just as Othello's was to the handkerchief bound round the wounded limb of Cassio. He seemed to be proud of them ; they were ostentatiously elevated into view. The boots were Hessians. Though not now worn in their very " newest gloss," they were yet in excellent, I may say in enviable condition. My anxious glance not only wandered over their polished surface, but seemed to pene- trate to their rich bright linings, the colour whereof was now no more a secret to me than were those silken tassels that dangled to delight the beholder. I knew my boots again. The wearer, having the newspaper spread before his face, could not notice any observation directed to his lower extremities ; my opportunity of inspection therefore was complete. They were my Hessians. My first impulse was to ring the bell for a boot-jack, and claim them upon the spot ; but before I could do so the stranger suddenly sprang upon his feet, seized his hat, and with one com- placent glance at those tasselled habiliments, which were far from having lost ail their " original brightness," swaggered out of the coffee-room. Curiosity prompted me to follow — I caught a glimpse of the bright backs of my boots as they flashed round the corner of a neighbouring street. Pursuing them, I surveyed the wearer ; and now perceived that not even 10 GEORGE CRUIKSHANKS OMNIBUS. those incomparable Hessians could transform a satyr into Hyperion, or convert a vulgar strut into the walk of a gentleman. Those boots were never made for such limbs — never meant to be " sported " after so villanous a fashion. You could see that his calves were indifferently padded, and might have sworn the swaggerer was a swell blackleg — one of the shabby-genteel, and visibly-broken-down class. Accordingly, after a turn or two, it was anything but surprising to see him squeeze himself into a narrow passage over the door of which was written the "word " Billiards." I heard my boots tramping up the dingy staircase to which the passage led — and my feet, as though from sympathy, and what the philosopher calls the " eternal fitness of things," were moving after them — when the " cui bono f " forcibly occurred to my mind ! If I should demand my Hessians, was there a probability of obtaining them ? and if I should obtain them, was there a possibility of my ever wearing them again ? Could I think of treading in the boots of a blackleg, albeit they never were his own ? No, I gave them up to the profanation which was their destiny. I called up Hamlet's reflection on the vile uses to which we may return; and as for the gambler, who in once virtuous boots threaded the paths of vice and depravity, I kicked him — " with my mind's toe, Horatio" — and passed on. Shakspeare, in one of the most touching and beautiful of his sonnets, tells us how he bemoaned his outcast state, " And troubled deaf heaven with his bootless cries ;" but with no such cries of mine is the reader doomed to be troubled. Indeed, when I parted from my Hessians on the occasion referred to, I never dreamed of mentioning them more. I had heard, as it seemed, their last creak. Not only were they out of sight, but out of mind. It appeared just as likely that I should ever again be excited on their account, as that I should hang them up a-la-General-Bombastes, and make war upon their adventurous displacer. Yet it was not three months after the event recorded, that in the city, in broad-daylight, my hat was all but lifted off by the sudden insurrection of my hair, on recognising my boots again. Yes, the very boots that once were mine, " et nullus error / " or, as we say in English, " and no mistake ! " As easily to be identified were they as the freckled, wrinkled, shrunken features of a beloved friend, parted from in plump youth. I knew my boots, if I may so say, by their expression. Altered as they were, to me were they the same : — " alike, but oh ! how different." " The light of other days had faded." It could not be said of either Hessian, that it figured on a " leg" this time. The wearer was evidently a collector in the " cast-off" line — had been respectable, and was still bent on keeping up appearances. This was plainly indicated by the one tassel which the pair of boots yet boasted between them — a brown-looking remnant of grandeur, and yet a lively compromise with decay. The poor things were sadly distorted; the heels were hanging over, illustrating the downward tendency of the possessor ; and there was a leetle crack visible at the side. They were Dayless and Martinless — dull as a juryman — worn out like a cross- examined witness. They would take water like a teetotaller. There was MY LAST PAIR OF HESSIAN BOOTS. 11 scarcely a kick left in them. They were in a decline of the galloping sort ; and appeared just capable of lasting out until an omnibus came by. A walk of a mile would have ensured emancipation to more than one of the toes that inhabited them. My once " lovely companions" were faded, but not gone. It was my fortune to meet them again soon afterwards, still further eastward. The recognition, as before, was unavoidable. They were the boots, but " trans- lated" out of themselves ; another pair, yet the same. The heels were handsomely cobbled up with clinking iron tips, and a worsted tassel of larger dimensions had been supplied to match the remaining silk one. The boots thus regenerated rendered a rather equivocal symmetry to the legs of an attorney's clerk, whose life was spent in endless errands with copies of writs to serve, and in figuring at " free-and-easys" and spout- ing-clubs. They were well able to bear him on his daily and nightly rounds, for the new soles were thicker than any client's head in Christen- dom. This change led me naturally enough into some profound specula- tions upon " wear and tear," and much philosophical musing on the absorption and disappearance of soles and heels after a given quantity of perambulation. But while I was wondering into what substances and what shapes the old leather might be passing, and also how much of my own original self (for we all become other people in time) might yet be remaining unto me, I lost sight for ever of the lawyer's clerk, but not of my boots — for I suspect he effected some legal transfer of them to a client who was soon as legally transferred to the prison in Whitecross- street ; since, passing that debtors' paradise soon after, I saw the identical boots (the once pale blue lining was now of no colour) carried out by an aged dame, who immediately bent her steps, like one well acquainted with the way, towards " mine uncle's" in the neighbourhood. Hessians that can escape from a prison may work their way out of a pawnbroker's custody ; and my Hessians had something of the quality of the renowned slippers of Bagdad, — go where they might, they were sure to meet the eye of their original owner. The next time I saw the boots, they were on the foot-board of a hackney-coach ; yea, on the very feet of the Jarvey. But what a falling-off ! translation was no longer the word. They had suffered what the poet calls a sea-change. The tops were cut round ; the beautiful curve, the tassels, all had vanished. One boot had a patch on one side only ; the other, on both. I thought of the exclamation of Edmund Burke, — " The glory of Europe is extinguished for ever !" Instinct told me they were the boots ; but — " The very Hoby who them made, Beholding them so sore deeay'd, He had not known his work." I hired the coach, and rode behind my own boots : the speculative fit again seized me. I recollected how 11 All that's bright muat fade," and " moralized the spectacle" before me. How many had I read of— nay seen and known — who had started in life like my boots, — brio-ht, unwrinkled, symmetrical, — and who had sunk by sure degrees, by wanderings farther and farther among the puddles and kennels of 12 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK's OMNIBUS. society, even into the same extremity of unsightly and incurable distortion. Not "Warren, nor Day and Martin, Nor all the patent liquids o' the earth, Shall ever hrighten them with that jet black They owed in former days." My very right to my own property had vanished. They had ceased to be my boots ; they were ceasing to be boots. They cost me something nevertheless ; for having in my perturbation merely told the driver to " drive on," he took me to Bays water instead of Covent-garden ; and, as the price of my abstraction, abstracted seven-and-six-pence as his fare. From a hackney-coachman they seem to have descended to the driver of what had once been a donkey ; to one who cried " fine mellow pears," " green ripe gooseberries," and other hard and sour assistants in the destruction of the human race. This I discovered one day by seeing " my boots " dragged to a police-office (their owner in them), where indeed one of the pair — if pair they might still be called — figured as a credible witness ; it having been employed as a weapon, held by the soli- tary strap that yet adhered to it, for inflicting due punishment on the head of its master's landlord, a ruffian who had had the brutal inhumanity to tap at the door of an innocent tenant, and ask for his rent. It is probable that in this skirmish they sustained some damage, and required " renovation" once more ; for I subsequently saw them at one of those " cobblers-stalls" which are fast disappearing (the stall becoming a shop, and the shop an emporium), with an intimation in chalk upon the soles — " to be sold." Of the original Hessians nothing remained but a portion of the leggings. They had been soled and re-soled ; the old patches had disappeared ; and there was now a patch upon the new fronts which they had acquired. Having had them from the last, to the last I resolved to track them ; and now found them in the possession of a good ancient watchman of the good ancient time in Fleet- street, from whose feet, however, they were one night treacherously stolen as he sat quietly slumbering in his box. The boots wandered once more into vicious paths, having become the property of a begging-letter impostor of that day, in whose company they were seen to stagger out of a gin-shop — then to run away with their tenant — to bear him, all unconscious of kennels, on both sides of the road, faster than lamplighter or postman can travel — and finally to trip him up against the machine of a " needy knifegrinder " (his nose coming into collision with the revolving stone), who, compassionating the naked feet of his seemingly penniless and sober fellow- lodger, had that very morning presented him with part of a pair of boots, as being better than no shoe-leather. This fragmentary donation was the sad remnant of my Hessians — the " last remains of princely York." "When we give a pair of old boots to the poor, how little do we consider into what disgusting nooks and hideous recesses they may carry their new owner ! Let no one shut up the coffers of his heart, or check even momen- tarily the noble impulse of charity ; but it is curious to note what purposes a bashful maiden's left-off finery may be made to serve on the stage of a show at Greenwich fair ; how an honest matron's muff, passed into other hands, may be implicated in a case of shop-lifting ; how the hat of a great MY LAST PAIR OP HESSIAN BOOTS. 13 statesman may come to be handed round to ragamuffins for a collection of half-pence for the itinerant conjuror; or how the satin slippers of a countess may be sandalled on the aching feet of a girl whose youth is one weary and wretched caper upon stilts ! " My Hessians " — neither mine, nor Hessians, now — were on their last legs. Theirs had not been " a beauty for ever unchangingly bright." They had experienced their decline ; their fall was nigh. Their earliest patchings suggested, as a similitude, the idea of a Grecian temple, whose broken columns are repaired with brick; the brick preponderates as ruin prevails, until at length the original structure is no more. The boots became one patch ! Such were they on that winter-morn, when a ruddy-faced " translator " sat at his low door, on a low stool, the boots on his lap undergoing examination. After due inspection, his estimate of their value was expressed by his adopting the expedient of Orator Henley ; that is to say, by cutting the legs off, and reducing what remained of their pride to the insignificance of a pair of shoes ; which, sold in that character to a match-vender, degenerated after a few weeks into slippers. Sic transit, &c. Of the appropriation of the amputated portion no very accurate account can be rendered. Fragments of the once soft and glossy leather fur- nished patches for dilapidated goloshes ; a pair or two of gaiter-straps were extricated from the ruins ; and the " translator's " little boy manu- factured from the remains a " sucker," of such marvellous efficacy that his father could never afterwards keep a lapstone in the stall. As for the slippers, improperly so called, they pinched divers corns, and pressed various bunions in their day, as the boots, their great pro- genitors, had done before them, sliding, shuffling, shambling, and dragging their slow length along ; until in the ripeness of time, they, with other antiquities, were carried to Cutler-street, and sold to a venerable Jewess. She, with knife keen as Shylock's, ripped off the soles — all besides was valueless even to her — and, not without some pomp and ceremony, laid them out for sale on a board placed upon a crippled chair. Yes, for sale ; and to that market for soles there soon chanced to repair an elderly son of poverty ; who, having many little feet running about at home made shoes for them himself. The soles became his ; and thus of the apocryphal remains of my veritable Hessians, was there just sufficient leather left to interposo between the tender feet of a child, and the hard earth, his mother ! ON A WICKED SHOEMAKER. You say he has sprung from Cain ; — rather Confess there's a difference vast : For Cain was a son of the first father While he is " a son of the last." 14 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S OMNIBUS. ^ dZ LOVE SEEKING A LODGING. At Leila's heart, from day to day, Love, boy-like, knock'd, and ran away ; But Love grown older, seeking then " Lodgings for single gentlemen," Return'd unto his former ground, And knock'd, but no admittance found — With his rat, tat, tat. His false alarms remember'd still. Love, now in earnest, fared but ill ; For Leila in her heart could swear, As still he knock'd, " There's no one there." A single god, he then essay'd With single knocks to lure the maid — With his single knock. Each passer-by, who watch'd the wight, Cried " Love, you won't lodge there to night!" And love, while listening, half confess'd That all was dead in Leila's breast. Yet, lest that light heart only slept, Bold Love up to the casement crept — With his tip, tap, tap. No answer; — "Well," cried Love, " I'll wait, And keep off Envy, Fear, and Hate ; No other passion there shall dwell, If I'm shut out — why, here's a bell !" He rang ; the ring made Leila start, And Love found lodgings in her heart — With his magic ring. L.R. "bu.jnid HAU X Nl&AU \f Jwvy CtJcA*^ ftl-«f/*-lty| FRANK HEARTWELL FRANK HEARTWELL; OR FIFTY YEARS AGO. BY BOWMAN TILLER. CHAPTER I. It was about half a century ago in the closing twilight of an autumnal evening at that period of the season when the falling of the sear and yellow leaves indicated the near approach of winter, that a lady was seated at work in one of those comfortable parlours which, as far as the memory of living man can go back, were at all times considered essential to an Eng- lishman's ideas of enjoyment, and which certainly were not and are not to be found, approaching to the same degree of commodious perfection, in any other part of the world. By her side sat a beautiful boy some seven or eight years of age, whose dark glossy ringlets hung clustering down his shoulders over the broad and open white cambric collar of his shirt. His full and fair face bore the ripened bloom of ruddy health, and his large blue eyes, even though a child, were strongly expressive of tenderness and love. The lady herself was fair to look upon, possessing a placid cast of countenance which, whilst it invited esteem and confidence, calmly re- pelled impertinence or disrespect ; her eyes, like those of her son, were mild and full, and meltingly blue, and through the shades of long dark lashes discoursed most eloquently the language of affectionate solicitude and fond regard; and it was impossible to look upon them, or be looked upon by them, without experiencing a glow of pleasure, warming and nourishing all the better feelings and purposes of the heart. In age she was twenty-six, but matronly anxiety gave her the appearance of being some two or three years older ; her figure was faultless, and the tight sleeve of her gown fitting closely to her arm, and confined with a bracelet of black velvet at the wrist, displayed the form of a finely moulded limb ; and the painter or the sculptor would have been proud to copy from so admirable a model. The floor of the room was covered with a soft Turkey carpet, which, though somewhat faded, still retained in many parts its richness of colours. The panelled walls were of oak that had endured for more than one gene- ration ; and though time had thrown his darkened shadows over them, as if to claim them for his own, art had been called in aid, if not to defeat his claims, yet to turn them to advantage ; for the blackened wood was polished to a mirror-like brightness, and instead of dispensing gloom, its reflections were light and cheerful. Suspended in the upper compart- ments and surrounded with oval frames, tastefully carved and gilt, were well executed portraits by the celebrated masters of those and earlier days. Between the two windows, where the whole of the light was thrown upon the person, hung suspended a pier looking-glass in a well-carved mahogany frame surrounded by the plume of the Prince of Wales, bearing the appropriate motto for the reflecting tablet itself, " Ich Dien ; " and at the corners, in open work, were cut full-ripe ears qf corn jn their golden glory, sheaved together with true-love knots. 16 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S OMNIBUS. In one angle of the room stood a lofty circular dumb-waiter, its planes decreasing as they rose in altitude and bearing a display of wine-glasses with those long white tortuous spiral columns, which, like the screw of Archimedes, has puzzled older heads than those of childhood to account for the everlasting turns. There were, also, massive articles of plate of various periods, from the heavy spoons with the sainted apostles effigied at the extremity of the handles, to the silver filagree wrought sugar-stand, with its basin of blue enamelled glass. There were also numerous figures of ancient China, more remarkable for their fantastic shapes than either for ornament or for use. The tables were of dark mahogany, the side slabs curiously deviced, and the legs assuming something of an animal form with the spreading paw of the lion or the tiger on each foot. One table, however, that was carefully placed so as to be remote from danger, had a raised open-work, about two inches in height, round the edges of its surface, to protect and preserve the handsome and much -prized tea-service, which had been brought by a seafaring ancestor as a present from the " Celestial Empire." A commodious, soft-cushioned, chintz-covered sofa occupied one side of the parlour, and the various spaces were filled with broad and high-backed mahogany chairs, whose capacious seats were admirable representatives of composure and ease. But there was one with wide-spreading arms, that seemed to invite the weary to its embrace ; it was stuffed with soft mate- rial, and covered entirely with thick yellow taffeta, on which many an hour of laborious toil had been expended to produce in needle- work imita- tions of rich fruit and gorgeous flowers ; it was a relic of antiquity, and the busy fingers that had so skilfully plied the task had long since yielded to mouldering decay. The fire-place was capacious, and its inner sides were faced with earthen- ware tiles, on which were represented scenes and sketches taken from scripture history. It is true that some of the delineations bore a rather incongruous character : the serpent erecting itself on the tip of its tail to beguile Eve ; the apple, whose comparative dimensions was calculated to set the mouth of many a school-boy watering ; and not unfrequently a mingling of the Selectae e Profanis amongst the groups caused curious speculations in the youthful mind. But who can call to recollection the many evening lectures which this constant fund of instruction and amuse- ment afforded, without associating them with pleasing remembrances of innocence and peace ? The fire-grate was large, and of the old-fashioned kind, somewhat of a basket-like form, small at the bottom, but spreading out into wider range as its side boundaries ascended. Lighted tapers were on the table, together with a lady's work-box, and the small, half-rigged model of a vessel, which the boy had laid down that he might peruse the history and voyages of Philip Quarll, and now, sitting by his mother's knee, he was putting questions to her relative to the sagacious monkeys who were stated to have been poor Philip's personal attendants and only friends. Emily Heartwell was, in every sense of the term, the " beloved" wife of a lieutenant in the British royal navy, who had bravely served with great FRANK HEARTWELL; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. 17 credit to himself and advantage to the honour of his country's flag; but unfortunately* becoming mixed up with the angry dissensions that had arisen amongst political partisans through the trial of Admiral Keppel by court- martial, he remained for some length of time unemployed, but recently, through the influence and intervention of his former commander and patron, Sir George (afterwards Lord) Rodney, he had received an appoint- ment to a ship-of-the-line that was then fitting out to join that gallant admiral in the West Indies. The father of Lieutenant Heartwell had risen from humble obscurity to the command of a West Indiaman ; and his son having almost from his childhood accompanied him in his voyages, the lad had become early initiated in the perils and mysteries of a seaman's life, so that on parting with his parent he was perfectly proficient in all the important duties that enable the mariner to counteract the raging of the elements, and to navigate his ship in safety from port to port. What became of the father was never accurately known. He was bound to Jamaica with a valuable cargo of home manufactures ; he was spoken off the Canaries, and re- ported all well ; but from that day no tidings of him had been heard, and it was supposed that the ship had foundered at sea, and all hands perished. By some fortuitous circumstance, young Heartwell had been brought under the especial notice of the intrepid Rodney, who not only placed him on the quarter-deck of his own ship, but also generously patronised and maintained him through his probationary term, and at its close, though involved in difficulties himself, first procured him a lieutenant's commission, and then presented him with a handsome outfit, cautioning him most seriously, as he was a good-looking fellow, not to get entangled by marriage, at least, till he had attained post-rank, or was regularly laid up with the gout, when he was perfectly at liberty to take unto himself a wife. But the lieutenant had a pure, unsophisticated mind, sensibly alive to all the blandishments of female beauty, but with discretion to avoid that which he considered meretricious, and to prize loveliness of feature only when combined with principles of virtue rooted in the heart. Ar- dently attached to social life, it can excite but little wonder that on mature acquaintance with the lady who now bore his name, he had forgotten the injunction of his commander ; and, being possessed of a little property, the produce of well-earned prize-money, he offered himself to the accep- tance of one who appeared to realise his most fervent expectations; and, when it is considered that to a remarkably handsome person the young lieutenant united some of the best qualities of human nature, my fair readers will at once find a ready reason for his suit not being rejected. In short, they were married. The father of Mrs. Heartwell, a pious clergyman, performed the ceremony, and certainly in no instance could there have been found two persons possessing a stronger attachment, based on mutual respect and esteem. An uncle, the brother of the lieutenant's father had, when a boy, gone out to the East Indies, but he kept up very little communication with his family, and they had for some time lost sight of him ,altogether, when NO. 1 C 18 GEORGE CKUIKSHANK S OMNIBOS. news arrived of his having prospered greatly, and the supposition was that he had amassed a considerable fortune. As this intelligence, however, was indirect, but little credit was given to it, and it probably would have passed away from remembrance, or at least been but little thought of, had not letters arrived announcing the uncle's death, and that no will could be discovered. The lieutenant, as the only surviving heir, was urged to put in his claim ; and, though he himself was not very sanguine in his expectations that his uncle had realised a large fortune, yet it gratified him to think that there might be sufficient to assist in securing a respectable and com- fortable maintenance for his wife and child during his absence. From an earnest desire to surprise Mrs. Heartwell with the pleasing intelligence, he had for the first time since their union refrained from informing her of his proceedings ; and on the afternoon of the day on which our narra- tive opens, he had appointed to meet certain parties connected with the affair at the office of Mr. Jocelyn Brady, a reputed clever solicitor in Lincoln's Inn, when the whole was to be finally arranged, and the deeds and papers placed in his possession in the presence of witnesses. Cherishing not only the hope, but also enjoying the conviction, that in a short time he should be able to gladden her heart, the lieutenant imprinted a warm and affectionate kiss on the lips of his wife, and pressing his boy in his arms with more than his usual gaiety, he bade them farewell for a few hours, promising at his return to communicate something that would delight and astonish them. But, notwithstanding the hilarity of her husband, an unaccountable depression weighed heavily on the usually cheerful spirits of Mrs. Heart- well ; and, whilst returning the embrace of her husband, a presentiment of distress, though she knew not of what nature or kind, filled her bosom with alarm ; and a heavy sigh — almost a groan — burst forth before she had time to exercise consciousness, or to muster sufficient energy to restrain it. The prospect of, and the near approach to, the hour of their separation, had certainly oppressed her mind, but she would not distress her husband by openly yielding to the manifestation of grief that might render their parting more keenly painful. She had vigorously exerted all her forti- tude to bear up against the anticipated trial which awaited her, of bidding a long adieu to the husband of her affections and the father of her child ; but the pressure which now inflicted agony was of a different character to what she had hitherto experienced. It was a foreboding of calamity as near at hand, an undefined and undefinable sensation, producing faintness of spirit and sickness of heart ; her limbs trembled, her breath faltered, and she laid her head upon his shoulder and burst into con- vulsive sobbings, that shook her frame with violent agitation. I am no casuist to resolve doubtful cases, but I would ask many thousands who have to struggle with the anxious cares, the numerous disappointments, and all the various difficulties that beset existence, whether they have not had similar distressing visitations, previous to the arrival of some unforeseen calamity. What is it, then, that thus operates on the faculties to produce these symptoms ? It cannot be a mere affec- tion of the nervous system, caused by alarming apprehensions of the future, FRANK HEARTWELL; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. 19 for, in most instances, nothing specific has been known or decided. May it not, therefore, be looked upon as a wise and kind ordination of providence, to prepare the mind for disastrous events that are to follow ? The lieutenant raised the drooping head of his wife, earnestly gazed on her expressive countenance, kissed away her tears, and then exclaimed, " How is this, Emily ? what ! giving way to the indulgence of sorrow at a moment when prosperity is again extending the right hand of good- fellowship ? We have experienced adverse gales, my love, but we have safely weathered them ; and now that we have the promise of favourable breezes and smooth sailing, the prospect of renewed joy should gladden your heart." " But are you not soon to leave me, Frank ?" returned Mrs. Heart well, as she strove to subdue the feelings which agitated her, " and who have I now in the wide world but you ? " The lieutenant fervently and fondly pressed her to his heart, whilst with a mingled look of gentle reproach and ardent affection he laid his disengaged hand on the head of his boy, who raising his tear-suffused eyes to the countenance of his mother, as he endeavoured to smile, uttered, " Do not be afraid mama, I will protect you till papa comes back ! " The silent appeal of her husband and the language of her child promptly recalled the wife and the parent to a sense of her marital and maternal duties — she instantly assumed a degree of cheerfulness ; and the lieutenant engaging to be home as early as practicable, took his departure to visit his professional adviser. The only male attendant (and he was looked upon more in the charac- ter of a humble friend than as a servant) on the lieutenant's establishment was an attached and faithful seaman, of some five-and- thirty years of age, who had undeviatingly adhered to the fortunes of his officer from the first moment of his entering into the naval service. He had served under Rod- ney from boyhood, first in the Prince George ninety-eight — then in the Dublin seventy-four ; and, subsequently, when the admiral hoisted his flag, he accompanied him in his career of glory, and was present in those memorable engagements which ultimately raised the British ensign to its proud supremacy on the ocean. Possessed of a lively and contented turn of mind, Ben Brailsford was always cheerful and gay — his temper and his disposition coincided — there was, at all times, a pleasant smile upon his cheek and a kind word upon his tongue, and, in point of fact, his only faults were an occasional indul- gence to excess in his favourite beverage — grog, and his still more excessive loquacity when spinning a tough yarn about his favourite commander, Rodney, though it not unfrequently happened that one helped on the other. I have already remarked that young Frank — for he was named after his father — was by his mothers side, and questioning her upon the subject of Philip Quarll's monkeys — but though desirous of imparting instruction to her son, yet her spirit was too much bowed down even to attend to him ; besides, this was a matter of natural history with which she was but little acquainted, and, therefore, he was referred to honest Ben, as the best authority to answer his inquiries. Ben was accordingly summoned, and smoothing down his hair over his forehead with his hard horny hand c2 20 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S OMNIBUS. as he entered the room, he " hoped as madam was well and master Frank all ship-shape." " I am thinking of your master's departure, Ben," returned the lady, " and therefore cannot be very easy in my mind, when I consider the risks to which he will be exposed on the turbulent ocean, both in the storm and in the battle." " Bless you, my lady," returned the seaman, " what's the vally of a bit of a breeze, w T here there's skill and judgment to read the face of the heavens, and good practical seamanship to ease her with the helm, when the wild seas break over us — and as for a fight, why its pretty sharp work whilst it lasts, but when it's over and the grog abroach — not, my lady, as I ever gives way to more than does me good — but as I was a saying, when the action's ended and the grog sarved out" — and here he cast his eyes towards a well-replenished liquor-case that stood in the corner, and from which he had often been supplied — " why we shares it along with our prisoners, and drinks to the mortal memory of them as is gone." " But it must be a dreadful spectacle, Ben, to witness the dead and the dying mingled together," said the lady, with a shudder, " the slain and the wounded in one promiscuous heap." *J Bless you, my lady, that comes o' not knowing the jometry of the thing," returned Brailsford, in a tone and expression that evidenced expe- rience ; "they aren't by no manner o' means in one permiskus heap, for as soon as we find an onfortinate shipmate has let go the life-lines — and its easy diskivered by pressing the hand over the heart and feeling for the pallypitation — just for all the world Master Frank, as you'd listen for the ticking of a watch in a noisy place — and if so be as you don't find that there's not never no wibration, but all is motionless, from the main-spring having been carried away, so that the wdieels have run down, why we knows well enough that the doctor's knife and all his medicine chest wouldn't get him to lend a hand to run out another gun, or rouse aboard the main-tack — so we launches him out at the port as expended stores, and we turns-to with a hearty good will to avenge his death." " But do they serve the officers so ? " inquired Mrs. Heartwell, whose cheeks had become blanched during the plain recital of the seaman; " surely there is some funeral ceremony, some — " and she paused. " Bless you, my lady, what's the odds so as you're happy," responded Ben, scratching his head, whilst a good-humoured smile mantled over his face ; " but the real truth of the thing is, that the officers being a sort of privileged class, expect a cast of the chaplin's wadee mecum — that's the parson's Latin for prayer-book, Master Frank ; but to my thinking a poor dev — that is, I means an onfortinate as sticks his spoon in the beckets for a full-due and loses the number of his mess, whilst sarving his country heart and soul — has rubbed out a multitude of sins whilst sponging his gun in the regard of dooty." u I dearly love my country, Ben ; I should be unworthy the name of Englishwoman if I did not," returned the lady with fervour,as in the course of conversation she endeavoured to overcome her depression ; u but why fight at all?" This query to one of Rodney's tars would have been quite sufficient, had the law been administered then as it is in the present day, to have sub- FRANK HEARTWELL ; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. 21 jected the questioner to a commission of lunacy ; and Ben gave his mis- tress an earnest look, shading his eyes with his hand that he might not be deceived by the glare of the lights. At first he thought she was in joke, but finding from the unchangeableness of her countenance that she was serious, he replied — " Well, my lady, in regard o' the upshot of fighting, it isn't for an onedecated tar like myself to dilute upon the religion of the thing j but, bless you, my lady, suppose as you had the English ensign hoisted on the staff, or, for the matter o' that, at the gaff-end, and an enemy was to dare to presume to be so onveterate bould as to fire a shot at it ; " he warmed as he proceeded, " why wouldn't you, my lady, open your ports and run out your guns for the honour of ould England's glory ? And when your guns are run out, why what's the use on 'em if you don't clap a match to the touch -holes and pour in a reg'lar broadside ? " " Oh, it must be horrible work, Ben," said Mrs. Heartwell, as the pic- ture of her husband, mangled and dying, was visibly presented to her view ; " you throw the supposed dead overboard without being certain that life is extinct — " " Avast, my lady, avast ; we never does that — no, no ; a shipmate or a messmate aren't so easily expended," returned Ben, with a solemn shake of the head. " But there's a sort of nat'ral inkstink amongst us tars — a kind of cable-splice with each other, so that we knows at once as well as any doctor as ever sarved' his time at pill-building when the strands are drawn, and the craft has slipped from its moorings ; that is, my lady, jist as this here, we can tell in a moment when a shipmate or messmate has broke adrift and got beyond hail ; bless you, they're all distinct afore we gives 'em a launch, and as for the wounded, why they're carried below to the cockpit to get dressed, or to have their precious limbs lopped off like old junk, condemned as onsarviceable. But what's the odds, my lady, so as you're happy ? " One of Ben's peculiarities, and which long habit had rendered perfectly familiar to him, was the general use of the expression " What's the odds so as you're happy ? " and as he mostly contrived to lug it in whatever the course of conversation might be, it often happened that it found utterance on very inappropriate occasions. The idea of happiness connected with the amputating of a limb would never have entered the mind of any other person than Ben ; but his mistress was too much accustomed to the humane and generous disposition of the worthy seaman to suppose that he was in- dulging in levity, or ridiculing distress ; she was perfectly aware that all Ben intended to convey was, that " a contented mind might be supported under every trial and misfortune." Young Frank had listened, as he always did, very attentively to Ben's explanations and descriptions, and though the delicate sensibilities of the lad were very naturally wounded by the recital of naratives of deeds of blood and violence, yet when the seaman entered upon details of chivalrous enterprise connected with the necessity of asserting his country's honour, his youthful heart would glow with earnest desire to be enrolled amongst the brave of his native land. His mother had discouraged his unmatured but ambitious aspirings ; her maternal solicitude had looked forward with 22 GEORGE CRUIKSHANKS OMNIBUS. sickening dread at the thoughts of her only child being exposed to the perils of the ocean. She had endured the long-suffering of anxious care and hope deferred during the absence of her husband, and her very soul dwelt with increased alarm and apprehension on the probability that not only would an additional weight of anxiety and distress encumber the every-day circumstances of life should her boy become a mariner, but there was also the certainty that in his departure she would lose one of the principal props to animated existence ; the dear little companion of her leisure hours, with whom she could unreservedly converse upon a subject that was ever uppermost in her thoughts, — his father. Then the idea ot loneliness preyed upon her mind ; and, there is something so cold and chilling in the thoughts of being left alone in the world, cut off from con- nexions that were once eminently endearing to the affections, to sit hour after hour, and day after day, communing with one's own sad heart, to pass the nights in sleepless retrospection, as visions of past enjoyment flit in pleasing array before the imagination, and then to turn the mind's eye to the obscure but dreaded events of the coming future, where all is darkened by gloomy forebodings ; there is a keen and horrible distress in such meditative contemplations, that is calculated to waste the stoutest frame, and to unsettle the soundest reason ; and happy indeed are they who seek for consolation from whence it alone can be obtained. Although Mrs. Heartwell experienced more pain than pleasure at Ben's recitals of storms and battles, yet she not unfrequently provoked him into narratives of danger and of death, for the purpose — as she hoped — of deterring her son from entering upon so hazardous an occupation as that of a seaman. But whilst she partially succeeded in awakening the acute sensibilities of the lad as to the difficulties to be encountered, so also was the pride and curiosity of an adventurous spirit aroused, and young Frank grew more attached to the interesting accounts of foreign lands, and deli- neations of distant countries, than frightened at the tales of the battle and the breeze. Philip Quarll had been laid aside whilst Ben stood conversing with his mistress — whom he at all times honoured with the appellation of " my lady," — but now the seaman was requested to sit down and explain the nature of the monkeys, the book was resumed, and Frank inquired 44 whether Ben had ever seen an ape wild in the woods." " Why, yes, Master Frank," responded the seaman, as he seated himself near the table, but at a respectful distance from his mistress. " I have seen 'em hanging on by the eye-lids amongst the trees." "Hanging on by the eye-lids, Ben ! " repeated Frank, in surprise ; " why how could they do that ?" " "Why to be sure, Master Frank, they warn't exactly holding fast by the eye-lids," returned the seaman, smiling ; " but we uses the term as a figure o' speech, meaning as it's next to dancing upon nothing." This did not much mend the lad's knowledge of the matter, but as he was eager to hear something of the monkey tribe, he inquired " And how much bigger, Ben, is a Chimpanzee than an ape ?" " A what, Master Frank — a Jem Pansy ? " demanded the seaman, looking at the picture of Quarll with his attendants. " Do they call them PRANK HEARTWELL ; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. 23 Jem Pansies ? well, to my thinking, it arn't natral to give a christen- like name to such oncivilized brutes as haven't got no rational faculties.' Frank explained, and the two were soon in deep and earnest conversa- tion upon the relative qualities and characteristics of monkeys, whilst Mrs. Heartwell continued her work, occasionally listening to their discourse, but her thoughts principally engrossed by contemplating the coming sepa- ration from her husband. The ancient clock, which stood on a bracket at the first landing Of the stairs, struck nine, and the lady, who had for some time been growing more and more uneasy at the lieutenant's stay, directed Ben to have the supper things in readiness, and when he had left the room, Frank was desired to prepare himself for bed. Kneeling at his mother's feet, with hands closed together, he repeated his evening prayer, im- ploring the Divine Being to bless his parents — the servant lighted him to his room — and weary nature soon found refreshment in the sweet repose of undisturbed slumber. Another hour passed away, and the anxious wife grew more restless and uneasy ; she laid her watch upon the table, and though the hour was late, yet she felt impatient at the tardy movement of the hands, hoping that each succeeding minute would bring her husband home. But still he came not, and time continued to progress, unheeding both the joy and the sorrow that accompanied his eventful career. In vain did she strive to subdue the fluctuating emotions that, like the undulating swell of the ocean giving warning of an approaching tempest, seemed to indicate that a severe trial was at hand. Every foot-fall in the street had excited hope, which died away with the receding sound ; and the almost hysterical and sudden gush of delight was succeeded by a revulsion of sickening uncertainty and fearful surmisings. Why or wherefore, she could not tell. But midnight was drawing near, the weather which had been fine became tempestuous, the winds howled and the rain beat against the windows, and the streets were deserted, except by the ancient watchman, whose slow and heavy tread could not be mistaken for the eager springi- ness of vigorous strength prompted by ardent affection hurrying to the home of the heart. Mrs. Heartwell tried to compose her mind by reading, but the effort was futile ; the constant changes in the course of her thoughts disconnected the sentences, and the visions which torturing apprehen- sions conjured up were infinitely more vivid than the incidents recorded on the printed page. At length, weary nature claimed her due, and she fell into uneasy slumber ; but though the mortal frame had yielded to fatigue, and strove to gain refreshing energy by repose, the intellect was still awake and powerful to witness the conflicting occurrences that filled up the scenic representations in the dramatic shiftings of her dream. And oh, how fearfully confused were the visions of Mrs. Heartwell's restless sleep ! She saw her husband struggling with the waves as the lightning flashed and the wild tempest howled above his head, and she rushed into the vortex of the dark and bubbling waters to try and snatch him from destruction. But vain were her endeavours to approach him — they were hurled hither and thither upon the crests of the foaming billows, but could not grasp each other's hands ; and then the scene sud- denly changed, and she beheld the lieutenant wounded and bleeding on the deck as the stream of life was ebbing fast away. They were sur- 24 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S OMNIBUS. rounded by the thunder and the smoke of battle; dark and vindictive, and gore-stained countenances were peering upon her through the curling vapours, and there was one amongst them more dark, more vindictive, more sanguinary than the rest, but the thickened and dense atmosphere was constantly throwing it into obscurity, so as to leave no especial tracings on the memory. She tried to get to her husband, but still that mysterious being constantly debarred her progress ; her limbs became paralysed ; she could see the lieutenant most distinctly, though the rest were enveloped in gloom ; and as he looked at her with his sight fast fading away, the dim eyes were still expressive of the inseparable mingling of anxious solicitude and fervent tenderness. Once more the picture changed ; she was in her own dwelling, in that very parlour, clasped in his embrace as the fervid kiss of affection was impressed upon her lips. She would have eluded his delay, but the delight that glowed within her bosom and the sound of his voice in cheerful greet- ing dispelled the anguish she had endured, and stifled the language of reproach before it could find utterance — She was again happy in his society. The lieutenant took his usual seat by the fireside opposite to his wife, and she was gazing upon him with feelings of gratification rendered more rich and delightful from the previous suffering she had experienced, when suddenly his features assumed a rigid and swollen aspect, a livid hue was on his cheeks, his limbs were stark and motionless, as he sat stiffly erect, whilst his eyes almost starting from his head were fixed intently upon her. " You are ill, Frank," was her imagined exclamation, as she essayed to rise from her chair but could not. " Oh do not look upon me thus — speak, speak to me," but the figure remained immovable — not a muscle of the face was stirred, and again that dark mysterious countenance, with its undefined outlines and misty filling up, appeared between them. " Oh, what is this, Frank ?" uttered she, in a voice shrill and piercing through the extremity of agony ; and bursting the bonds of sleep, she sprang from her chair at the very instant that Ben opened the door of the room, and looked round it in surprise. " Where is he, Ben, where is he ? " de- manded the agitated woman, as she stared wildly on the vacant seat. " Bless you, my lady," responded the seaman as he stood within the half- opened door, " I thought as Muster Heartwell were here, seeing as he hailed me jist now in the kitchen, and Tve come to see what his pleasure is ?" A thrill of horror instantaneously seized upon every portion of Mrs. Heartwell's frame— a sensation that for the moment struck at the very seat of vitality, and was carried through the entire system. " It cannot be," at length she uttered ; " no one has opened the doors — the servants are all in bed :" she gasped for breath as she falteringly continued, " Fa- ther of Heaven, in mercy relieve me from this dreadful state. Yes, yes, it must have been — it is nothing more than a dream," and seating herself upon the sofa, she buried her face upon the pillow, and burst into unre- strained and irrepressible tears. Ben had implicitly obeyed the instructions of his mistress in seeing the supper materials prepared, and at the accustomed hour the maid-servants went to bed, leaving the gallant seaman alone in the kitchen to the enjoy- ment of his pi pe and a well-filled stiff glass of cold grog. Unaccustomed to scrutinise the conduct of his superiors, Ben gave himself but little FRANK HEARTWELL ; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. 2f» trouble or consideration for the unusually long-continued absence of hi3 master ; and if a thought did obtrude it was merely to conjecture that the lieutenant might have fallen in with some old messmates or friends, who, in the height of enjoyment over their social or festive intercourse, had induced him to stay out beyond his ordinary time for returning. It is true Ben reasoned upon deductions based upon what he himself would have done under similar circumstances ; for though the worthy tar had practised a little of the amiable towards Sally the housemaid, yet he was unacquainted with, and consequently could not well account for, the secret and hidden springs that prompted the undeviating attention of Mr. Heart- well in studying the comfort and happiness of his wife as intimately con- nected with his own. Ben sat smoking and cogitating upon the station he should probably occupy when again upon the element he loved to control, and his spirit rose as he contrasted the busy routine of duty on board a smart ship at sea, with the idle and quiet of a calm life on shore even with Sally to sweeten it. He fancied himself once more at the weather wheel, as with a predominant feeling of pride he kept the given point of the compass without vibrating from the direct course he was ordered to steer ; and then in his watch below with his brother tars keeping up Saturday night with grog, and jest, and jocund song; and as he made repeated applica- tions to the jorum of strong beverage by his side, his fancy peopled the vacant space around him with messmates and shipmates till both pipe and glass were emptied, and he unconsciously resigned himself to the close embraces of a sailor's Morpheus. He, too, had been dreaming, but it was of the mere ordinary concerns of the forecastle or main-top, without experiencing a single terrific sensa- tion except when the supposed sonorous hail of the first lieutenant through his speaking-trumpet afforded a convincing testimonial that something iiore was expected in the exercise of their duties than the playfulness of childhood. But Ben heard it fearlessly, for he not only knew what he had to do, but he was also well versed in the most approved method of doing it, and ever active and obedient, he performed his task with alacrity and skill. Whilst thus involved in all the intricate mazes of visionary specu- lation, he thought he heard the well remembered sound of his master's voice calling upon him ; and springing to his feet, he rubbed his eyes as he gave the usual responsive " Ay, ay, Sir," and found the lieutenant stand- ing before him. But the delusion almost instantly ceased — the figure receded and disappeared, and as the door of the kitchen was shut, Ben concluded in his mind that it was all moonshine as to the appearance, that he really had heard his master's call, and hurrying up stairs he entered the parlour at the moment when his mistress awoke in such thrilling agony. The flow of tears relieved her overcharged heart, and without question- ing the seaman she sent him below again, and prostrating herself before her Maker, she offered up an earnest prayer for fortitude to undergo afflic- tion, and tranquillity of mind to meet every dispensation that might occur — it was the poor dependant created, supplicating the high and Almighty creator ; it was the weak and the defenceless imploring the aid of the Omnipotent. The appeal was heard and answered — the broken and the 26 GEORGE CRUIKSBANKS OMNIBUS. contrite spirit was not despised; and Mrs. Heartwell arose from her knees strengthened in the confidence that He who spread abroad immea- surable space and displayed the firmament as his handy work — who fed the young ravens when they cried, and clothed the lilies of the field in all their beauty, would not desert her in the hour of tribulation. $mmmm®mmmi: gggp pi£p^ MONUMENT TO NAPOLEON ! On the removal of Napoleon's remains, I prepared the above design for a monument ; but it was not sent, because it was not wanted. There is this disadvantage about a design for his monument ; — it will suit nobody eke. This could not, therefore, be converted into a tribute to the memory of the late distinguished philosopher, Muggeridge, head master of the grammar- school at Birchley ; nor into an embellishment for the mausoleum of the departed hero Fitz- Hogg, of the Pipeclays. It very often happens, however, that when a monument to a great man turns out to be a misfit, it will, after a while, be found to suit some other great man as well as if his measure had been taken for it. Just add a few grains to the intellectual qualities, subtract a scruple or so from the moral attributes — let out the philanthropy a little and take in the learning a bit — clip the public devotion, and throw an additional handful of virtues into the domestic scale — qualify the squint, in short, or turn the aquiline into a ■ MONUMENT TO NAPOLEON. 27 snub — these slight modifications observed, and any hero or philosopher may be fitted to a hair with a second-hand monumental design. The standing tribute " We ne'er shall look upon his like again," is of course applicable in every case of greatness.] " Is this the man of thousand thrones, Who strew'd our earth with hostile bones ! And can he thus survive !" So Byron sang, in accents of astonishment, long before the object of it was even once buried. Is the note of wonder less called for, and less natural now — now that the world has lived to witness, not only the first, but the second funeral of its Imperial Agitator ? Is this Napoleon le Grand ! and looked Alexander after this fashion — barring the decorations of his bony extremities ! Agitator still ! Aye, Agitator even in thine ashes thou must be called — whatsoever name else thou mayst be destined to survive ! Whether Boney, Bonyparty, Buonaparte, Napoleon, Emperor ! Whether in the future, as in the past, thou shalt be addressed by any one of that astound- ing collection of titles which the most metaphysical and admiring of thy biographers once gathered from the public journals and set forth in start- ling array — as Monster, Tyrant, Fiend, Upstart, Usurper, Rebel, Re- gicide, Traitor, Wretch, Villain, Knave, Fool, Madman, Coward, Impostor — or these again with suitable adjectives to reinforce them, as Unnatural Monster, Sanguinary Tyrant, Diabolical Fiend, Corsican Upstart, Military Usurper, Wicked Rebel, Impious Regicide, Perfidious Traitor, Vile Wretch, Base Villain, Low-born Knave, Rank Fool, Egregious Madman, Notorious Coward, Detestable Impostor ; — or this other set of epithets, which, in more countries than France, and not unsparingly in our own, have since been associated with thy name — as Conqueror, Potentate, Preserver, Genius, Liberator, Law-giver, Statesman, Ruler, Regenerator, Enthusiast, Martyr, Hero, Benefactor — these again being reinforced as before, thus — Invincible Conqueror, Mighty Potentate, Glorious Preserver, Guardian Genius, Generous Liberator, Enlightened Law-giver, Magni- ficent Statesman, Wise Ruler, National Regenerator, Sincere Enthusiast, Devoted Martyr, Triumphant Hero, Beneficent Benefactor : — by these names, by any one of them possibly, thou mayst not be especially distinguished in after times ; but as Agitator at least thou must be hailed while language lasts ! — It may justly be doubted whether the figure thus looking down upon a pyramid of skulls, is indeed " the man of thousand thrones " — whether he does " thus survive." The design is one of those that " show men as they ought to be, not as they are." That opening of the coffin at St. Helena opens up a world of curiosity, of wonder, and alarm. All the spectators were awed and astounded at the absence of the great Dictator of the Grave — Change ! All the beholders were stricken to marble, or melted into water-drops, to see Death looking like Life ; to survey the pale and placid features of the Emperor, expressing the serenity of repose, not the workings of decay — to witness a sign of power beyond that which ordinary clay may boast, and to feel that a " divinity did hedge " indeed the hero-king, in preserving all that was mortal of the Mi$ GEORGE CRUIKSHANKS OMNIBUS. exiled chief from the ravages of the worm. There lay the Emperor Napoleon — (he was recognised then by the authorities, and should the parties meet in the Shades, even George the Fourth can no longer style him General Buonaparte) — there lay the Emperor — not simply in his habit as he lived, but in the very flesh which he took with him out of Longwood. There was the positive and un wasted substance — and there too was the seeming spirit. The eyes only were wanting to give ir- reality and consciousness. The Mighty Watcher had fallen asleep, bu who could say that he never again was to wake up ? The restless Visionary had sunk, torpid, into a dream of years. The Monarch had abdicated the throne of Life without finally crossing its confines. At best, the spectacle presented an extraordinary compromise with the insa- tiate Destroyer. The Archer had for once half- missed his aim. Now, it will be remembered that Fauntleroy was considered to bear a decided resemblance to Napoleon — a very respectable " likeness-done- in-this- style" sort of portrait — and Fauntleroy, as we all hear, is said to be alive still ! Somebody has remarked — in fact we remarked it ourselves i — that on dit is French for " a lie ;** and so it may be in this particular : still the coincidence is curious. Even the likeness of Napoleon is asso- ciated with things living; but Napoleon himself has been seen, recog- nised, identified — looking like life itself — sleeping, sightless, but not dead. We have all been reminded lately of the manner in which his return from Elba was announced in the Moniteur. It will bear repetition here : — "1st announcement — The demon has escaped from banishment: he has run away from Elba. 2d — The Corsican dragon has landed at Cape Juan. 3d. — The tiger has shown himself at Gap — the troops are advancing from all sides, in order to arrest his progress — he cannot possibly escape. 4th — The monster has really advanced as far as Grenoble — we know not to what treachery to ascribe it. 5th — The tyrant is actually at Lyons. Fear and terror seized all at his appearance. 6th — The usurper has ventured to approach the capital to within sixty hours' march. 7th — Buonaparte is advancing by forced marches — but it is impossible he should reach Paris. 8tb — 'Napoleon will reach under the walls of Paris to- morrow. 9th — The Emperor is at Fontainbleau. 10th — Yesterday evening his Majesty the Emperor made his public entry, and arrived at the palace of the Tuileries — nothing can exceed the universal joy ! " What would be his reception now, were he — as he escaped so strangely from Elba, and worked his way still more strangely from under the willow of St. Helena — were he to wake where he is ! The people cried Vive I'Ernpereur as the coffin that held him was borne by. And truly the Emperor yet lives in France ! [As for me, who have skeletonised him prematurely, paring down the Prodigy even to his hat and boots, I have hut " carried out" a principle adopted almost in my boyhood, for I can scarcely remember the time when I did not take some patriotic pleasure in persecuting the great Enemy of England. Had he been less than that, I should have felt compunction for my cruelties ; having tracked him through snow and through fire, by flood and by field, insulting, degrading, and deriding him everywhere, and putting him to several humiliating deaths. All that time, however, he went on "overing" the Pyramids and the Alps, as boys "over" posts, and playing at leap-frog with the sovereigns of Europe, so as to kick a crown off" at every spring he made — together with many crowns and sovereigns into my coffers. Peep, most deep, in a personal view of matters, are my obligations to the Agitator — but what a Debt the country owes to him !] PHOTOGRAPHIC PHENOMENA, OR THE NEW SCHOOL OF PORTRAIT-PAINTING. " Sit, cousin Percy ; sit, good cousin Hotspur !" — Henry IV. " My lords, be seated." — Speech from the Throne. I. INVITATION TO SIT. Now sit, if ye have courage, cousins all ! Sit, all ye grandmamas, wives, aunts, and mothers ; Daughters and sisters, widows, brides, and nieces ; In bonnets, braids, caps, tippets, or pelisses, The muff, mantilla, boa, scarf, or shawl ! Sit all ye uncles, godpapas, and brothers, Fathers and nephews, sons, and next of kin, Husbands, half-brother's cousin's sires, and others ; Be you as Science young, or old as Sin : Turn, Persian-like, your faces to the sun ! And have each one His portrait done, Finish'd, one may say, before it's begun. Nor you alone, Oh ! slight acquaintances ! or blood relations ! But sit, oh ! public Benefactors, 30 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK's OMNIBUS. Whose portraits are hung up by Corporations. Ye Rulers of the likeness-loving nations, Ascend you now the Photographic throne, And snatch from Time the precious mornings claim'd By artists famed (In the Court Circular you 11 find them named). Sit too, ye laurell'd Heroes, whom detractors "Would rank below the statesman and the bard ! Sit also, all ye Actors, Whose fame would else die with you, which is hard : Whose Falstaffs here will never Slencters prove. So true the art is ! M.P.'s, for one brief moment cease to move ; And you who stand as Leaders of great Parties, Be sitting Members ! Ye intellectual Marchers, sit resign' d ! And oh ! ye Authors, men of dazzling mind. Perchance with faces foggy as November's, Pray sit ! Apollo turned R.A. The other day. Making a most decided hit. They say. Phoebus himself — he has become a Shee ! (Morning will rank among the Knights full soon) And while the Moon, Who only draws the tides, is clean outdone, The Stars are all astonishment to see Earth — sitting for her portrait — to the Sun ! II. THE PROCESS OF THE PORTRAITURE. It's all very fine, is it not, oh ! ye Nine ? To tell us this planet is going too fast, On a comet-like track through the wilderness vast : Instead of collision, and chances of splitting In contact with stars rushing down the wrong line, The world at this moment can't get on — for sitting : And Earth, like the Lady enchanted in Comus, Fix'd fast to her chair With a dignified air, Is expecting to sit for a century there ; Much wondering, possibly, half in despair, How the deuce she's to find her way back to her domus, " Keep moving," we know, was the cry long ago ; But now, never hare was " found sitting," I swear, Like the crowds who repair To old Cavendish Square, And mount up a mile and a quarter of stair, In procession that beggars the Lord Mayor's show ! PHOTOGRAPHIC PHENOMENA. 31 And all are on tiptoe, the high and the low, To sit in that glass-coverM blue studio ; In front of those boxes, wherein when you look Your image reversed will minutely appear, So delicate, forcible, brilliant, and clear, So small, full, and round, with a life so profound, As none ever wore In a mirror before ; Or the depths of a glassy and branch-shelter'd brook, That glides amidst moss o'er a smooth-pebbled ground. Apollo, whom Drummond of Hawthornden styled " Apelles of flowers," Now mixes his showers Of sunshine, with colours by clouds undefined ; Apelles indeed to man, woman, and child. His agent on earth, when your attitude 's right, Your collar adjusted, your locks in their place, Just seizes one moment of favouring light, And utters three sentences—" Now it 's begun," — " It's going on now, sir,"— and " Now it is done f And lo ! as I live, there 's the cut of your face On a silvery plate, Unerring as fate, Worked off in celestial and strange mezzotint, A little resembling an elderly print. " Well, I never ! " all cry ; " it is cruelly like you ! " But Truth is unpleasant To prince and to peasant. You recollect Lawrence, and think of the graces That Chalon and Company give to their faces ; The face you have worn fifty years doesn't strike you ! III. THE CRITICISMS OF THE SITTERS THE MORAL. " Can this be me ! do look, mama !" Poor Jane begins to whimper ; " I have a smile, 'tis true ; — but, pa ! This gives me quite a simper." Says Tibb, whose plays are worse than bad, " It makes my forehead flat ;" And being classical, he'll add, " I'm blow'd if I'm like that." Courtly, all candour, owns his portrait true ; " Oh, yes, it's like ; yes, very ; it will do. Extremely like me — every feature — but That plain pug-nose ; now mine's the Grecian cut ! Her Grace surveys her face with drooping lid ; Prefers the portrait which Sir Thomas did ; Owns that o'er this some traits of truth are sprinkled ; But views the brow with anger — '* Why, it's wrinkled f 32 GEORGE CRUIKSHANKS OMNIBUS. " Like me /" cries Sir Turtle ; " I'll lay two to one It would only be guess' d by my foes ; No, no, it is plain there are spots in the sun, Which accounts for these spots on my nose." " A likeness !" cries Crosslook, the lawyer, and sneers ; " Yes, the wig, throat and forehead I spy, And the mouth, chin, and cheeks, and the nose and the ears, But it gives me a cast in the eye !" Thus needs it the cburage of old Cousin Hotspur, To sit to an artist who flatters no sitter ; Yet Self-love will urge us to seek him, for what spur So potent as that, though it make the truth bitter ! And thus are all flocking, to see Phoebus mocking, Or making queer faces, a visage per minute ; And truly 'tis shocking^, if winds should be rocking The building, or clouds darken all that's within it, To witness the frights Which shadows and lights Manufacture, as like as an owl to a linnet. For there, while you sit up, Your countenance lit up, The mists fly across, a magnificent rack ; And your portrait's a patch, with its bright and its black, Out-Rembrandting Rembrandt, in ludicrous woe, Like a chimney-sweep caught in a shower of snow. Yet nothing can keep the crowd below, And still they mount up, stair by stair ; . And every morn, by the hurry and hum, Each seeking a prize in the lottery there, You fancy the " last day of drawing " has come. L. B. [All the World and his Wife must recollect that they are not figuring before a mere mortal artist with whom they may all the while laugh and chat. Here you must sit mute and motion- less. You may wink ; you may perhaps just- put on a smile ; but you must not laugh ; for if you do, one half of your head will go off !] 45tlL "~ 'iwiouci efeUx ac?^. (y j«p^te. . CmiksliouJc — kiHv lfb U4 33 PUNCH v. LAW. I was dozing over the last half-dozen glasses of a bowl of punch (the rest of the club having departed) when the waiter at the British came into the coffee-room to remind me that it was Saturday night, and that in obedience to the New Police Act it was absolutely necessary that I should take my departure before Sunday morning — the door must be finally closed at twelve o'clock, and it then wanted but five minutes. This appeal, and a " Now, Sir, if you please," a few times repeated, were not more than half heard ; sleep seized me irresistibly, and in twenty seconds more I was dreaming that I had fallen fast asleep, with the punch-bowl for a nightcap. " Come, move on — make way here, will you though ? — move on, you sir ! No Punch and Judy now ; it's unlegal by the law ; ain't you awor o' the New Police Act what's put it down?" Such was the arbitrary order which in my dream Serjeant Higginbotham of the X division issued, as he pushed his way into the centre of a crowd of urchins assembled round that little stage on which Punch was playing off his antics in unapproachable style. As the words fell from his lips, they smote my heart with the fear that a revolution in the country must inevitably follow. Punch to be put down by Act of Parliament ! Judy to be snatched away for ever by a vote of both Houses ! Mirth, fun, jollity, to be legislated into nothing — in the passing of a clause, or the twinkling of the Speaker's eye ! Impossible ; put Punch down in one place, lo ! he is up again in another ; stifle his voice in the east, and hark ! you hear him the next minute squeaking in the west, like the piping shepherd-boy, " as though he should never grow old." This was consolatory to my feelings ; but yet methought, the mere intent, the bare threat of the legislature to banish the people's own Punch, their time-honoured favourite, would paralyse all London at first, and then all London would be seen on its legs rushing to the Queen's palace to petition ! To my astonishment, not a soul in that crowd took the smallest notice of Serjeant Higginbotham's imperative command to be off. Punch went on squeaking and rapping away ; the troop of boys, girls, and miscella- nies around, continued to grin, laugh, scream, and stretch their necks to stare over one another's heads as though they never could look enough ; and what was more, the policeman, who had penetrated into the midst of them, and of whose presence they appeared so singularly heedless, stood there, grinning, laughing, screaming, and stretching his neck to stare too. There indeed stood Serjeant H., his truncheon dropping from one hand, while the other was tightly pressed against his side, where he seemed to be in imminent peril of a split. That truncheon he had scarce uplifted, when the laugh seized him, and his arm fell powerless. Serjeant Higgin- botham, six feet high, was a little boy again. How he laughed and roared. I heard his " Ho ! ho !" for days afterwards, and can even now see the tears run down his cheeks, fringing his whiskers like dewdrops on a bush. Close by was a youngster flying his kite contrary to law ; on the approach of a policeman, he let go, turned to run, caught a glimpse of no. ii. — VOL. I. D 34 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK 1 S OMNIBUS. Punch — and there lie stood fascinated by the fun. His pursuer, who was close behind him, was just about to catch him by the collar, when he too stopped short, and with distended jaws almost doubled the horse-laugh of the side-aching Serjeant. Up came a sweep with the illegal cry of 1 we-weep* on his lips, but he could not break the law by giving utter- ance to the cry — for laughter.' Presently came by a genius playing an organ, and another blowing a trumpet — the policemen heard not the unlawful music, and it suddenly ceased, stopped by the irresistible and all- absorbing Punch. A boy came next trundling his hoop, with 46 D trundling after him ; in two minutes they were standing side by side, laughing from ear to ear. A dustman had just raised his voice and got out, " du — ■ • when his bell seemed to stop of itself, and "My eye 1" was all he could articulate. A lad behind a hackney-coach jumped down, scorning a three-miles ride, under the influence of the prevailing risibility. All were drawn insensibly into the vortex of laughter. Every violator of the new law, albeit aware of having Mien under the vigilant observation of the police, lost on the instant all sense of responsibility, all inclination to shun the danger of apprehension, and joining the crowd, became utterly uncon- scious of any law but the law of nature, and supremely blessed in ignorance of the very existence of a constable. More astounding still was the suddenness with which the rush of policemen from all quarters, pursuing the offenders, came to a stand-still. Each in turn followed his intended Tictim into the charmed circle, gave up the chase in the moment of success, and surrendered himself captive to Punch instead of taking a prisoner. " And those who came to seize, remain'd to laugh.* At length, half the trades, half the schools, all the idlers, and all the policemen of the metropolis, seemed gathered there together. And there they all stood spell-bound, wrought upon by one common emotion ; shak- ing their sides against one another, and sending up a roar, compared with which the thunder of the Danish kettle-drums and cannon of old was a dead silence. Here, methought, is a lesson for legislators ! They would put down that which puts down nuisances, and turns public disturbers into the happiest and most harmless of mortals ! And they would suppress it by agents who came in contact with the enemy only to join his ranks, "for we have all of us one human heart." Put down Punch ! Fifty Parlia- ments could never do it ! There's a divinity doth hedge him. Punch ■ for a time can suppress kite-flying, hoop-trundling, bell-ringing, and trumpet-blowing — which the law cannot ; how then should Punch him- self be put down ? Immortal puppet ! the true friend of the people, and the promoter of good-humour among all her Majesty's loving subjects ! Such would have been my reflections ; but the accumulated roar of the laughing throng awoke me — when I found that the waiter was snoring very loud in the lobby of the coffee-room. The house had long been shut for the night; and having violated the law, I was obliged to content myself with a broiled bone and a bed at the British — witl^ an extra tumbler of punch ! to yudt. bzUnd eu CoSLCk/ N Ijo(/m w alio-*, , fylxroLf us fenttcl --when, iu LS faunf- J kL °ii *»£* ■■ %. a ■' ha.7 wkxtfun ' \ — ^<5ee such«.fLt/J , \rr t ™°l>o yes, I think I should, if I vos to see him as I did last night,"" responded the coachman; "but daylight alters people's looks, and I shouldn't like to svear." After other questions of no very material consequence, the magistrate decided that " the affair should be put into the hands of an experienced officer, who should thoroughly investigate the whole, and he would be ready to attend to any information as soon as it was obtained ; but if no further light was thrown upon the transaction, and the lieutenant still remained absent, then he must request Mr. Brady to be in attendance at eleven o'clock the following morning, accompanied by his clerk, the bank agent, and all the evidence he could procure. In the mean time he recommended that intelligence should be given at the other offices, and diligent inquiry made at the hospitals; though in the first instance it would be best to commence the investigation in the neighbourhood of Ormond Street. Mr. Brady promised strict attention, and the parties withdrew. e2 52 LOVE HAS LEGS. Strolling about from bower to hall, Love paid Lavinia a morning call. An hour soon went — she chatted and sang — He staid — till at last the dinner-bell rang. He staid, still charm'd ; and rather alarm'd, Lavinia felt she must ask him to stay. " To tell you the truth," cried the radiant youth, " I'm here for life, I shall ne'er go away." Love's fire shot through her in one wild flush, Till her heart itself might be seen to blush ; Love saw, and finding it faithful and kind, Exclaim'd, " O Beauty, how long I've been blind ! More grateful grew he, more fervent she, More watchful, sensitive, warm, and fond ; So much like light was he to her sight, She could not trust him a step beyond. Still more she cherish'd him year by year, Till at last each joy came tinged with fear ; She fear'd, if he stroll'd where wild flowers meet, Lest thorns might pierce his delicate feet ; Or a reptile's sting beneath his wing She fear'd, if he lay in the greenwood asleep ; Or walk'd he awake by the moonlit lake — In dread of an ague, how would she weep ! LOVE HAS LEGS. 53 She chatted and sang to Love no more, Lest music and chat should prove " a bore; " But she hung on his steps wherever he went, And shut from the chamber the rose's scent. She slept not a wink, for fear he should think She dream'd not of Love — so her eyes grew dim ; She took no care of her beautiful hair, For she could not spare one moment from him. Love's bright fireside grew dark with doubt, Yet home was a desert if Love went out ; In vain were his vows, caresses, and sighs ; " O Love," cried the lady, " I've given you eyes ! And ah ! should some face of a livelier grace Than mine ever meet them ! Ah ! should you stray !" Love, wearied at last, was in slumber lock'd fast ; — " Those wings! " said the watcher, " he might fly away.' One awful moment ! Oh ! could she sever Those wings from Love, he is hers for ever ! With trembling hand she gathers the wings — She clips — they are off! and up Love springs. " Adieu ! " he cried, as he leapt from her side, * Of folly's cup you have drunk the dregs ; My home was here ; it is now with the deer ; Thank Venus, though wingless, Love has legs ! L. B. BERNARD CAVANAGH, THE IRISH CAMELEON. Bernard Cavanagh is the name of a person who is now raising considerable sums of money in Dublin by professing to work mi*aclcs — the greatest of them all consisting in his ability to live without any food whatever— which he is now said to have done for several months. Crowds flock to him to be cured of their lameness, deafness, &c— Irish Papers. Marvellous Erin ! when St. Patrick's feat Thy hills, vales, plains, and bogs from reptiles freed, He little dream'd what monsters would sueceed ; Sinners who drink not, saints who never eat ! And is there one, in whom the piece of meat Which Paris raves about, no care can breed ! One who can never know a time of need, Though corn be trampled by the tempest's feet ! Poor fellow ! what enjoyment he foregoes ! Nothing but air, a scrap of summer cloud, Fog with the chill off, is to him allow'd ; A fine thick mist, or rainbow when it shows; But ah ! for him no kitchen's steam up- flows ; No knives, forks, spoons, or plates, a piled crowd, No dishes, glasses, salts, make music loud ! Sad sinecurists all — mouth, ears, and nose ! THE ASS ON THE LADDER. " For lowliness is young Ambition's ladder." — Julius Ccesar. At the end of the second volume of a Hebrew MS of the Bible, written on beautiful vellum, is the following passage, in fine large Hebrew characters : — " I, Meyer, the son of Rabbi Jacob, the scribe, have finished this book for Rabbi Abraham, the son of Rabbi Nathan, the 5052nd year (a.d. 1292); and he has bequeathed it to his children and his children's children for ever. Amen. Amen. Amen. Selah. Be strong and strengthened. May this book not be damaged, neither this day nor for ever, until the ass ascends the ladder." After which the accompanying rude figure is drawn. — Pettigrew's Bibliotheea Sussexiana, part I. vol. i. ^ It would appear from the curious sen- tence copied above, that no longer ago than five centuries and a half, the feat which is pictured to the spectator in a fac-simile of the original drawing was regarded as an event of extremely improbable occur- rence. The inference indeed may be, that it was deemed aa impossibility. The prayer of the inscription is, " May this book be undamaged for ever." — May it be preserved " until the ass ascends the ladder!" " Till Birnam wood shall come to Dun- sinane," is the unlikely occurrence which the weird sisters specify as the omen of Macbeth'sfall; and " That will never be!" is the cry of the confident thane. In modern days we wish a man "good luck till he 's tired of it f or " prosperity till the sky falls." The despairing and love- lorn damsel in the ditty sings — - ' l When fishes fly, and swallows dive, Young men they will prove true." THE ASS ON THE LADDER. 55 And one of the same ballad-family sets out with the affecting declaration, that — " When gooseberries grow on the stem of a daisy,'' the singer's passion will be no more. These, and a thousand examples of the Not till then," are but versions of the Hebrew assumption of impossi- bility, expressed in the grotesque fancy of " the ass on the ladder." But it is clear that Meyer the son of Rabbi Jacob was not in Moorfields last year ; it is certain that Abraham, the son of Rabbi Nathan, little dreamed of what would be doing at Pimlico in the nineteenth century; for whether at Mayfair or at Bethnal Green, at Wapping or at Islington, one or both must have seen the impossibility realised, in the elevation of the donkey, before the upturned wondering eyes of a crowd of lingering mortals in the public thoroughfares. Lest there should be some who never saw the modern street-mounte- bank, going forth like Leporello with his ladder, and like Sancho with his donkey, we must describe his performance. His greatest feat consisted in balancing upon his chin a ladder with an ass on it. All other tricks performed, and all eyes and mouths opened, curiosity on tiptoe and incredu- lity on the stretch, forth came the wooden machine, and with legs twisted through the staves, up went the animal. " Who," exclaims the minstrel, " Ah who can tell how hard it is to climb !" But what poet ever found a steep so difficult as that gradus ad Parnassum to the seemingly dislo- cated donkey ? To the topmast round, you would see him clinging like Shakspeare's giddy sea-boy on the mast ; and surveying the mountebank who had taught him to be such an astonishing ass, with a look that seemed to say, " You're another!" Then would his master send round the hat upon its last and greatest voyage of discovery ; then would the halfpence therein be rattled harmlessly in the vacant faces of boys with vacant pockets, and then would the irresistible appeal be heard, " Come, good gen'lemen, be liberal, be liberal — tuppence more, and up goes the donkey." Then bending up each corporal agent for the terrible feat, up indeed would go the ladder, donkey and all; high up in air, until its lowest stave rested fairly and firmly on the protruded chin of the mountebank, where it stood poised, fixed, moveless — the astonishing type, or rather the exact model, of the balance of power in Europe. The amazement now should be transferred from the balanced to the balancer ; for what is the difficulty of such a gradus ad Parnassum to the ass, compared with the sore trial of the man below, who has made the bridge of his nose a pons asinorum! But in rivalship with the donkey, the human being shrinks into insignificance ; the grotesque patience of the brute beats the strength and dexterity of the man hollow ; the gazers are all wrapped in ecstasy to see how the ass hangs on, not how the cunning mountebank balances him. The sympathies of the crowd, men and boys, are triumphantly borne off by the four-legged performer, and every one of them goes away more convinced of the uncommon cleverness of the ass, and consequently on better terms with himself. But the obstinacy of the long-eared animal is proverbial ; and in nothing is it more strikingly exhibited than in the fact that he will eat if he can. So was it before the days of iEsop's ass, that cropped a thistle and was 56 GEORGE CRUIKSHANKS OMNIBUS. torn in pieces for confessing it ; and so has it been before and since the hour when Sterne's ass consumed the macaroon which curiosity and not charity presented to him. It is possibly this expensive habit that has led the mountebank, of late, to cast off the donkey, and to substitute a boy for him, in the feat of the ladder. The performance to this hour is the same, with that exception — a two-legged juvenile for a four. Perhaps the mountebank was jealous of the ass ! Can we assume that, in the nature of a mountebank balancing on his chin a ladder surmounted by a long- eared brute, there is no room for vanity ? Can we imagine a donkey- balancer incapable of feeling annoyed, when he sees his subordinate — the agent through whom his own abilities are to be demonstrated — creating peals of laughter by doing nothing, trotting off with the spoils he did not win, and cropping every thistle of fame that belongs to another ? There is no mind too shallow for vanity to take root in, no talent too small for it to twine itself round, no competitor too contemptible to pique and wound it. " Why, Edmund Kean couldn't get a hand of applause, with such a noisy brute as that in the piece !" said an actor in the drama of the Doc/ o/Mon- targis, when the quadruped was howling over the murdered body of his master, and breaking the hearts of the audience. At all events the Boy has taken the Ass's place on the ladder. The change may have arisen out of that tenderness for the brute creation which is too amiable a feeling — when in excess — to pass unadmired. There is a Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals ; and to risk a donkey's life on a ladder, for the sport of a heedless crowd, might be dangerous to the mountebank. In this age, society at large knows what is due to donkeys; we can all enter into their feelings. But as there is no law, and no moral principle, against the elevation of a, human urchin, even to the top stave of the ladder, there is no reason why the sport should not continue. Philosophers will explain to you, that a boy is a free agent, and has a right to be balanced on a human chin, if he likes; but a Jonkey has no will of his own at all — except — except when you 've hired him for an hour, at Ramsgate, and are endeavouring to persuade yourself that you're trotting him out of the town. The last boy we saw balanced was worthy of the chin that sustained him. The mountebank to be sure was a miracle, and could have balanced anything. If the books of the Bank of England were to get into disorder, every sum confused, and every figure out of its place — he could balance them. But the boy was at least two miracles rolled into one — a more than Siamese prodigy — a boy, and yet an ass too. He locked more like one L than the reality, his predecessor. He ^evidently felt the I THE ASS ON THE LADDER. 57 past importance of his elevation, high above his compeers. He seemed quite conscious that every inhabitant, not of that simply, but of the next parish, was gazing at him in profound amazement. He turned no glance, whether of contempt or benignant pity, on the open eyes and mouths around, but looked unutterable things at the knocker of a door opposite. " So stauds the statue that enchants the world IV This, however, was only at the commencement of the performance, while the spectators were being coaxed to contribute, and while several among them, not knowing exactly what they were doing, were giving a half- penny. But when the ladder was deliberately hoisted up, and fixed on the chin, then came the utter hopelessness of presenting a true resemblance of the ass's face — the boy's we mean ; — of the conscious pride in its own blankness, of its self-complacency, tinged with a slight touch of fear, amounting only to a pleasurable excitement ! He was a boy picked out of the crowd around, — yet he was matchless. You saw at once that he was not employed by the mountebank — that he was not paid for being balanced. There was something in his look that distinguished him at a glance from the hired professor. It might be supposed that, the boy not being hired, there would be a little difficulty in procuring a substitute for the ass : not so ; only blow a trumpet or beat a drum in the street, and you are surrounded in less than no time with able and willing volunteers. This boy entered into the soul of the ass's part ; he did not hug, and hang on the ladder mechanically, or like one who had done the same thing a dozen times before, that very day. There was the freshness of the young aspiration, the delicious novelty of the first grand step in life — in the attempt. It was young Ambition (as Brutus says) just mounting his ladder. He was animated by the glorious intoxication of getting up in the world. He looked direct forward ; not at, but through, the brick wall opposite, into futurity. If one of his schoolfellows had called out, " Master 's a coming;" or, " Here 's your father with the cartwhip ;" or, " Bill, I'm blessed if here arn't the woman what we stole the apples on ;" — no, even these notes of alarm would have failed to disturb his equanimity — or his equilibrium. " Have a slice o' cold pudden, Bill?" might have communicated perhaps to some part of his frame a momentary touch of human weakness — we can't say positively —boys are but men ; — but nothing short of such an appeal to the weak side of his nature could have disturbed his rapt and lofty musings. Since the days of the Hebrew with which we set out, when the Ass on the Ladder was but a fiction, history has recorded the doings — we had almost said the sayings — of scores of wonderful quadrupeds. "We have had gifted horses, who should have been elected F.R.S.'s; learned pigs, who should have been chosen LL.D.'s ; humane dogs, who merit statues like Howard's ; and industrious fleas, who do the work of hot water in putting lobsters to the blush. But such an ass as the Lad on the Ladder eye never beheld but that once. His face spread before our curious and inquiring gaze, like a map of the world, and we traced in recollection an infinite variety of character. What it more immediately suggested was the expression in the face of a successful candidate at the moment of 58 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S OMNIBUS. "chairing," elevated in some fantastic car, surrounded with banners bearing patriotic mottoes and devices, and accompanied by roaring ragga- muffins. It also conjured up a vision of a youthful aspirant, fresh from the office or the shop, strutting in Richard, or fretting in Hamlet, be- fore eight long sixes, and a full bench of aunts, in a private theatre. The ass on the ladder brings to memory a thousand other spectacles. When we behold an orator (to listen is impossible) flourishing his arms on the hustings, and ever and anon placing his hand upon his crimson waistcoat, or declaiming for an hour together before a private company to the exclusion of conversation, in full force of lungs, but in virtue of no mental superiority, we are forcibly reminded of the ass on the ladder. When we see a sprig of fashion, who only obtained his nobility yesterday, and whose worth, if put up to auction, would be dear at the price of a mushroom, insolently claiming precedence of the untitled bearer of an ancient and honourable name ; or when we observe the high-born, starched up to the eyes, sneering at humble birth, however associated with merit, and cutting modest respectability for a parvenu ; in these cases we cannot help thinking of the ass on the ladder. When we see a vulgar jack, in virtue of his office raised to the rank of gentleman, treating a poor suitor, who asks for his own, as if he were a beggar asking alms ; or a sleek-headed, rosy-gilled idiot, who lives only in his own breeches-pocket, pretending to patronise talent because he doles out, for its exercise, what scarcely keeps its possessor from starving, we are very apt to call to recollection the ass on the ladder. When a connoisseur, influential by position, sits down to decide, in just ten minutes, upon the merits of a work of art or science, which has cost the producer years of anxious study and ceaseless labour ; or when a military despot lives but to harass, irritate, and torture the sensitive and honourable minds of those ill-fated officers, who, superior perhaps in everything else, happen to be below him in rank and fortune, — we immediately recur for a parallel to the ass on the ladder. When we see a millionnaire, who has crawled along the road to riches until he can't stand upright, grasping with usurious hands at the little still retained by those who helped him to rise ; or when a sudden puff of fortune has blown an adventurer into power and affluence, and we see him so giddy that ho doesn't know his own poor relations, and actually can t recognise in broad daylight the struggling friend who lent him five pounds three months before, — then, and under, all similar circumstances, we are sure to think of the ass on the ladder. When we behold a gentleman turning jockey or stage-coachman, quitting the legislature for the stable or the cockpit, winking at the worst vices until he becomes himself tainted, and devoting his time and money to the destruction of his own health and the demoralisation of his hangers- on ; or when we see a barrister, bullying with conscious impunity a trembling, blushing, inexperienced witness (perhaps a woman) until common sense becomes confused, truth begins to contradict herself, and honesty steps out of the witness-box, looking very much like a rogue, — why, who can fail to associate with spectacles like these, the ass on the ladder ? OMNIBUS CHAT. 59 But it is not merely in the army and on the stage, at the bar and in literature, in the walks of commerce and in the world of fashion, that we daily detect some living prototype of the long- eared animal in the ascendant. If public meetings exhibit them, public schools do so no less abundantly. There is a great deal of ladder-climbing going* on at the universities ; and not a proctor in the precincts of learning but could tell many tales of asinine ambition. Who more irresistibly calls to mind the ass on the ladder than the noble knocker- wrencher, or the gentlemanly bell-destroyer, when brought up — many staves up the ladder now — before a magistrate, and indulgently allowed to take his choice — a fine of forty shillings, or a month at the tread wheel ? When the noble and gentle- manly sport extends to the pummelling of police-officers, only stopping within an ace of manslaughter, then the animal may be said to have reached the topmost stave — an elevation where every kick with which he indulges himself in his playful humour adds incalculably to his own imminent danger. The higher the ascent, the greater the ass. We have seen many instances, more melancholy than ludicrous, of asses falling from the very top. For ourselves, we must candidly confess to a painful consciousness of having been — occasionally, and for not many days together — yet of having been, ere now, beyond all mistake, upon the ladder adverted to. Nay, emboldened by the virtuous frankness of this self-criminating admission, we even venture to put it to our (male) readers, whether they cannot recollect having had their own feet, at some time of their lives, on the first round of the ladder ; whether they do not feel sensible of having placed just one foot on that lowest step of the ascent — one only — for we would not dare to insinuate that they ever got farther, lest they should turn upon us with the mortifying, and perhaps not altogether mistaken discovery, that we ourselves, even in this moment of moralising, have reached the top of it ! OMNIBUS CHAi. The " Omnibus" had hardly started off, on the first of the month, from the door of Messrs. Tilt and 13ogue, and taken a westerly direction up Fleet Street, commencing without the loss of an hour its monthly tour in search of the picturesque, when it was stopped for the purpose of taking in a passenger. This was at the corner of Bolt Court, out of which classical and celebrated avenue tumbled rather than walked a gentleman stout and elderly, with a bluff good- humoured countenance, all the pleasanter for an air of sternness which was evidently affectation. Having got in, he seated himself immediately opposite to us, that is to say, at the left-hand corner of the vehicle next the door, and at once began, as though he had been the ghost of Br. Johnson, and possessed the unques- tionable right in that neighbourhood to take the lead in conversation. " Sir," he said, " you have made a fair start, but a start is not a journey. Now there's a fact for you — and it's a fact which the producers of Number-ones are deplorably prone to forget. With me, Sir, first numbers go for nothing. Some people will tell you that your No. I. is a proof as far as it yoes of what you mean to do in this new vehicle of yours. Sir, some people are very fond of a ' proof as far as it goes.' But how far does it go ? If you see a man in a black coat to-day, and you meet the same man in a blue coat to-morrow, its ' a proof as far as it 60 GEORGE CRUIKSHANKS OMNIBUS. goes/ that he is the possessor of three hundred and sixty-five coats, or one for every- day in the year. But still, sir, you have made a fair start. Let me warn you against stoppages ; never stop but when you have to take up or set down. Don't overload your vehicle. No racing, but go quietly. All of which means, don't cut knotted oaks with razors, and when you have a ' wee crimson-tipped flower ' to paint, don't make a great red flare of it. Above all, sir, never follow advice, how- ever excellent, when it is offered to you in a long speech ; for the man who would presume to take up two minutes and a half of your valuable time at one sitting, deserves to be put into a Mile-end omnibus by mistake, when he's bound for Turnham Green direct." We had scarcely time to thank our gruff but good-humoured adviser — whom we at once set down for a chip of that respectable old block, the Public in General, and identified as a specimen of Middle aged People in Town and Country — we had barely time to assure him that his last important suggestion at all events should be especially remembered, when a voice burst forth from the further end of the vehicle, where in the dim light the speaker was only just visible. He was a very young man, evidently of the last new school, and in a tone of jocular familiarity he called out, "I wish that gentleman from Bolt Court would explain the pheno- menon of a new work being started with a preface so totally unlike the prefaces of all new works published during the last half-century, which invariably begin with k Dr. Johnson has observed.' " The elderly passenger appealed to, frowned ; but in less than a minute the frown gave way to a smile, and without further noticing the challenge, he said, " Dr. Johnson is not responsible for a ten-thousandth part of what during the last half- century has been observed in his name. His mimics are calumniators, and they have distorted his sentiments as remorselessly as they have disfigured his style. Since subjects of caricature are not prescribed in the present company, I may safely put it to the vote whether any exaggeration is more gross than that which, commonly passes in the world for exact imitation. There are people who can trace resemblances in the most opposite and unlikely forms. Old ladies, stirring the fire, and tumbling the bright cinders into new combinations, will often hit upon a favourite coal and cry, • Well, I declare if that isn't like Mrs. Jenkinson/ And no doubt the resemblance is quite as perfect as that between the ridiculed manner of Johnson, and the rumblings of his sneering mimics. He, with a full measure of language but not an overflow, with nice inflexions, a studied balance, yet with a simple elegance not destroyed by his formality, opens a story — stay, I can give you a graceful passage of the Doctor's, and in the same breath you shall hear how it would come spluttering forth from the clumsy pen of his imitators. ■■ * DR. JOHNSON HIMSELF. " 'Ye who listen with credulity to the whis- pers of fancy, and pursue with eagerness the phantoms of hope ; who expect that age will perform the promise of youth, and that the deficiencies of the present day will be supplied by the morrow ; attend to the History of Rasselas, Prince of Abyssinia.' " * DR. JOHNSON IMITATED. " ' Ye who listen with ignorant credulity to the whispering blandishments of fancy, and pursue with inconsiderate eagerness the en- chanting and seductive phantoms of hope; who idly expect that grudging age will per- form the rash but generous promise of thought- less youth, and that the glaring deficiencies of the present day will be providentially sup- plied by the inexhaustible profusion of the morrow ; attend to the moral history of Rasselas, Crown Prince of Abyssinia.' " "There is much truth in what you observe," said a quiet modest-looking passenger on our left to the talkative Johnsonite, who deprecated long speeches; " much truth ; and perhaps as you dislike exaggeration in whatever professes to imitate, you might be entertained with one of my 'Photographic Pictures,' warranted accurate. I am, sir, yours respectfully, H. G. A. Now as there happens to be one of these pictures distinctly present to my eye at this moment, though the scene is far from Fleet Street, I think I can copy it to the life, and if you please well call it — J I OMNIBUS CHAT. 61 "A Scene near Hogsnorton. * A ditch frequented much by water-rats, With velvet-headed rushes bordered ; Two little boys who fish for tittlebats With sticks, and crooked pins, and bits of thread ; Three willow trees that stand with drooping bougbs Upon the banks, and look disconsolate ; A bull that flings his tail up as he lows — He's coming at those boys, as sure as fate ! A church spire peeping from amid the trees, With vane in semblance of a fiery cock ; And Farmer Stubbles lolling at his ease, Across a gate to view his fleecy flock ; A barn that seems just ready to fall down, And would, but for the shores that stay its falling ; And, where yon row of elms the green slopes crown, Is Thomas Noakes, with hand to mouth, out calling To Simon Simpson in the fields below, And telling him to mind that precious ball — He's fresh from town, poor lad, and does not know What danger lurks amid the beautiful ; Here a tall oak its branches flingeth out, As if it said — M I am of trees the king ! " And there an aged hawthorn spreads about Its crooked arms — a queer misshapen thing ; Far off you see a mill — more trees — some houses — Look at this frisking colt, why what a kicker ! — Feathers and parasols ! here come the spouses Of Dr. Dobbs, and Mr. Trench, the vicar, The Smiths, the Joneses, and Jemimah Prescot — I'm off, before they nail me for their escort ! " The reciter, who wore an air that bespoke him of the country, was here addressed by a metropolitan gentleman seated in his vicinity, who announced himself as a brother initialist, A. G. K. "Well, sir, Simon Simpson, * fresh from town,' was not more awkwardly situated than I once was, in this very lane here, when fresh from the country. You see the vehicle has just turned out of Fleet Street, and is making for Holborn ; so if you like to listen, I'll give you my im- pressions on first finding myself in " Chancery Lane. H I meditated the desperate design of hastening to Holborn by the first street which led thither; a desperate design, indeed, as I knew not 'the street through which I should have to pass. As ill-luck would have it, " Chancery Lane" was the first that offered, and well does it deserve the name ; dark, narrow, crooked, long, and tedious is this Elysium of the Law ! On every side I beheld long and careworn faces, and, as is generally the case with legal suits, I might easily'have got through it alone, had I not been prevented by the many passengers, like the numerous little cases put into causes to protract and swell the client's difficulties. Perhaps it may be thought that I could have stepped into the middle of the street, and so have managed to walk on ; not so — the vehicles were as numerous nearly as the passengers, and there was no resource but to wait. On this, I began to look around me, to see if I could discover anything that could take away the tedium of stoppage. I gazed on the persons nearest to me ; from the youngest to the oldest — from the poorest to the richest, there was the same invariable careworn look.] * First there came the young office-boy, groaning under a large bag of parchment and what not ; then the unfortunate articled clerk, desponding at the idea of five years in so gloomy a place, wherein his youth's best years were to be spent. The needy clerks, who received a stipend, came next ; their little all had, with the characteristic theatrical mania of lawyers' clerks, vanished the night previous at the Adelphi, or adjacent tavern. But not alone did these wear a look of gloom : the fishermen, the snarers, even the attorneys themselves, looked vexed; the stoppage of the way teased them sadly. It was five minutes past the time when 62 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK's OMNIBUS. that little bony wretch, the office boy, should have been screwed down to his com- fortless stool, far from the apparition of a fire, from the phantom of heat! Last of all came the client : it will easily be surmised why he looked gloomy. " The sun never shines there — the houses take care of that ; in fact, the very 1 fretwork ' of the heavens seemed of a parchment yellow ; the air breathed of briefs ! No merry laugh is heard in Chancery Lane ; no girl trips gaily along ! No ! the moaning of the dupe is heard there ; the decrepit, grief-worn widow totters there, to find that her hope of subsistence is faded in useless expense. I have spoken of the numerous conveyances in the street. The horses were half- starved, the people within seemed bailiffs ; and the omnibus proprietors (unlike our ' Omnibus ') looked anxiously for in-comers. "Chancery Lane is, indeed, a fit place for the law: the houses overhang the street— the smoky windows, ay even the few shops seem impregnated with it. I turned to a book-stall to relieve my aching gaze, when a massive row of calf-bound volumes frowned upon me ; I looked in a fruiterer's stall, — dry musty raisins, bitter almonds, olives and sour apples met my view. I then cast my eyes at a perfumery-shop ; the wax dummies were arrayed in judge's wigs and black legal drapery. In despair I turned to a tailor's: a figure arrayed in black, on a wooden mould, appeared ; but it was swathed in a barrister's gown. There was anoiher figure with finely-cut clothes certainly ; but allegorically, I suppose, it had no head. Such is Chancery Lane. My associations with it are none of the pleasantest. What are yours ? " This question, addressed to everybody, was answered by nobody. We had now advanced to the upper end of Chancery Lane ; and, passing those buildings on the left, in which Equity presides over the affairs of suitors, a passenger, who introduced himself under the designation of Sam Sly, and in whose eye there was a pleasant twinkle not ill associated with the appellation, observed in an inward tone, as if he were speaking to himself, " A poor devil who has once got into that court, must soon feel himself in the position of the letter ?-." As Mr. Sly's remark was not intended to be heard at all — so at least it seemed — it of course attracted general notice ; and as there was a disposition manifested to know " why," Mr. Sly politely explained, " Because, though far advanced in Chancery, he can never get quite to the end of it. By the way," he proceeded, "all law is but an enigma; and talking of enigmas, I happen to have one — yes, here it is. Rather an old- fashioned sort of thing, an enigma, eh ? True, but so are epics, you know. Am T to read? oh ! vcy well, since you're all so pressing ; " — and then to the following tune Mr. Sly trolled out his ENIGMA. " A delinquent there is, and we ever shall scout him, For roguery never would flourish without him. We're lovers of peace ; but regardless of quiet, . This knave is the first in a row or a riot ; A strange, paradoxical elf, we declare, That shies at a couple but clings to a pair. Though at first in the right, still he's found in the wrong; And though harmony wakes him, yet dies in the song. Three fifths of the error that poisons our youth, Yet boasts of a formal acquaintance with truth. Though not fond of boasting, yet given to brag; And though proud of a dress, still content with a rag. He sticks to our ribs, and he hangs by our hair, And brings with him trouble, and torment and care ; Stands thick in our sorrows and floats in our tears, Never leads us to Hope, but returns with our Fears : To the worst of our passions is ever allied, Grief, Anger, and Hatred, Rage, Terror, and Pride. Yet still, notwithstanding, the rogue we might spare If he kept back his old ugly phiz from the Fair." We had by this time stopped at the end of Drury Lane to take up a passenger, who now appeared, emerging from that \ery dirty avenue, with an exceedingly OMNIBUS CHAT. 63 small roll of MS. under his arm. The new-comer's eye was evidently in a fine frenzy rolling, and it was at once suspected from one end of the vehicle to the otherj that he had just been writing a German Opera for Drury-lane Theatre. "Gentlemen," said he, the instant he had taken his seat, " you're all mistaken. Through that miserable cranny I have been picking a path to the theatre for the sole purpose of taking off my hat to the statue of Shakspeare, over the portico, in celebration of the event which renders its presence there no longer a libel and a mockery. You guess what I allude to. Mr. Macready has become the lessee of Drury ; and the noble task which he assigned to himself in the manage- ment of Covent Garden, he purposes here to complete. The whole public will rejoice in the renewal of his experiment, which should be hailed in golden verse. I wish I could write sonnets like Milton or Wordsworth. Here are two, such as they are, addressed to the regenerator of the stage." TO WILLIAM CHARLES MACREADY, ON HIS BECOMING THE LESSEE OF OLD DRURY. I. Macready, master of the Art supreme, That shows to dazzled and else guideless eyes (As doth Astronomy the starry skies) The airy wonders of our Shakspeare's dream ; Com'st thou again to shed a wakening gleam Of morals, taste, and learning, where the gloom Most darkens, as around the Drama's tomb ! Oh, come, and show us yet the true Extreme ; Transcendent art, for coarse and low desire ; The generous purpose, for the sordid aim ; For noise and smoke, the music and the fire Of time-crown'd poets ; for librettos tame, The emulous flashings of the modern lyre — Come, and put scowling Calumny to shame ! ii. What though with thee come Lear, himself a storm Of wilder'd passion, and the musing Dane, The gallant Harry and his warrior-train, Brutus, Macbeth, and truth in many a form Towering ! not therefore only that we warm With hope and praise ; but that thy fjlorious part Is now to raise the Actor's trampled Art„ And drive from out its temple a loose swarm Of things vice-nurtured — from the Porch and Shrine ! And know, Macready, midst the desert there, That soon shall bloom a garden, swells a mine Of wealth no less than honour — both most bare To meaner enterprise. Let that be thine — Who knowest how to risk, and how to share ! L. B. Hereupon, a bard started up in the very remotest corner, and interposed in favour of the epigram, seeing that such oddities as sonnets and enigmas were allowed to pass current. Immediately, and by unanimous invitation, he produced some lines written in the album of a fair damsel, whose sire has but one leg, and complains of torture in the toes that he has not. " The heart that has been spurn'd by you Can never dream of love again, Save as old soldiers do of pain In limbs they left at Waterloo." We expressed our acknowledgments, and then heaved a sigh to the memory of an old friend, who, having suffered from the gout before his limb was amputated, 64 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK S OMNIBUS. felt all the pain, just as usual, at the extremity of his wooden leg, which was regularly flannelled up and rubbed as its living predecessor used to be. But here our reflections were broken off by a stoppage, as if instinctively, at a chemist's shop, the door of which, standing open, afforded a fair view of the scene which follows. On the subject of homoeopathy we profess to hold no opinion ; but, con- sidering that it prescribes next to nothing to its patients, it must be an excellent system for a man who has next to nothing the matter with him. It is comical, at all events, to think of a doctor of that school literally carrying his " shop " in his pocket, and compressing the whole science of medicine into the smallest Lilliputian nut-shell. Imagine a little customer going with A LARGE ORDER TO A HOMOEOPATHIC APOTHECARY. Little Girl. " Please, sir, I want the hundred-thousandth part of a grain of magnesia." Young Chemist (Whose hair would certainly stand on end, were it not so tightly pommaded down, at the simplicity of the little innocent in asking for as much medicine as would kill or cure a whole regiment of soldiers). " Very sorry, miss, but we don't sell anything in such large quantities ; you had better apply at Apothecaries' Hall." And he follows her to the shop-door to see whether she had brought with her a hackney-coach or a van to carry away the commodity she had inquired for ! Driver. I say, Tom, here's that there eldeily lady a coming, as wanted to go with us at our first start. Cad. Ay, well, it's no use, Bill — she's too late agen — ve're full — all right — go on ! Inde-j-ienallnt Setititwiq % Yptv An- Election^ Sq,ail>. . 65 "MY VOTE AND INTEREST." X COMMUNICATIOK FROM MR. SIMPLETON SCHEMER, OF DOLTFORD-LODGB, CROOKSLEY. Crooksley doesn't return members to Parliament — I wish it did. I'm sure I took pains enough ten years ago to procure for it — all my property being situate there — the privilege which was at that time accorded to other towns of consideration and respectability ; for although the popula- tion doesn't much exceed three hundred and sixty, I took upon myself to make a return of our numbers to the then Secretary of State, which ought to have prevailed in our favour ; for I proved that the population amounted to within a dozen of seven thousand, merely by including the churchyard, which I well might do, as part and parcel of Crooksley itself, and adding the affectionate wives, virtuous husbands, and filial prodigies, now no more, to the estimate of the living inhabitants ; also, by anticipating the returns of christenings for a few succeeding years ; which was easily done by guessing, on the authority of Blandish (our medical man, with whom I was at that time friendly), what number of children extra the various increasing families within the boundaries of Crooksley were likely to be blessed with. Not the smallest notice, however, was taken of my memorial ; and Crooksley to this hour does not return a single representative. I read an advertisement the other day in our county paper, of some new patent strait- waistcoats ; which advertisement was headed thus : — " Worthy the attention of the Insane !" Now, if Crooksley had been enfranchised, that is the very heading which might have been affixed to an advertise- ment for an independent candidate to represent it at the present crisis — " Candidate wanted — worthy the attention of the Insane /" for a place more unlucky in its elections, more ill-omened and perverse in all its contests, more predestined to choose the wrong candidate, or more wilfully bent on self-destruction by scorning the advice of its best friends and patrons, / never lived in, since the day I sold my stock and good- will, and retired from the Old Jewry for ever. To every other place with which I am acquainted entrance is obtained by regular roads ; to Crooksley, I verily believe, there is no egress what- ever but by cross-roads. I'm thinking of selling Doltford-lodge — cheap. The first contest that ever took place in Crooksley — for it is odd enough, but they never could get up a contested election until I, having retired from business, went to settle there in the enjoyment of concord, harmony, and peace, — the first contest occurred several years ago. It was a struggle — and well do I remember it — for the office of organist. No sooner was the place vacant — almost, I might say, before the bellows of the departed holder had lost their last breath of wind — than up started half-a-dozen of the nobs of Crooksley, with Dr. Blandish at their head, and down they came to me at the lodge with a flourishing testimonial to sign — a testimonial in favour of Miss Cramper, as a fit and proper person to fill the post of organist. NO. III.— -VOL. I. F 66 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S OMNIBUS. Miss Cramper ! And who was Miss Cramper, I internally asked my- self. But I couldn't answer the question. I knew, in fact, little about her, except that she had lived long in the place, had decent connexions, not over rich, and happened to be a capital musician ; the best organ-player, I must admit, that anybody ever heard in or out of our village. But with this exception she hadn't a single claim, not a pretension that I know of, to the post of organist. She was not asthmatic — she had not nine children, seven of them solely depending upon her for support — nor did she even pretend to have lost her eyesight, " or any part thereof," as Knix the lawyer says ; for she was ogling Blandish all throughout the inter- view, as if she looked upon him to be the first-fiddle in Crooksley — Humph ! Well ! I confess I didn't like the proceeding ; and so, after assuring the requisitionists, in the friendliest manner, that Miss Cramper should certainly have my vote and interest — in the event, I added, more to myself, perhaps, than to them — in the event of no candidate coming for- ward to oppose her, — what did I do but I brought forward a candidate of my own ! It so happened that I had taken down there with me from the Old Jewry an elderly warehouseman, whom I couldn't well send adrift, and who was of no earthly use to me, either in the house or in the grounds. Now, poor Joggins, besides being bent double, chanced, very luckily, to have eyes like an owl, and there were the strongest hopes of their becom- ing speedily weaker ; so that here at once was a qualification. In addition to that, he had had two sons : one, a waterman, drowned by the usual means, collision with a steamer, was easily elevated into a British seaman dying in defence of his country ; and the other, for whom I had obtained a situation in the new police, was, of course, one of the brave devoted guardians of his native land. To crown our good-luck, Joggins had been very fond of playing the flute before wind got so very valuable to him, and really did know something practically of that enchanting instrument, so that his qualifications as an organist were more than indisputable. Yet, strange to say, his nomination was the signal for violent oppo- sition; and a tremendous conflict ensued. I was determined that Blandish, though backed by the vicar, should not carry everything before him with a high hand, nor become, what, ever since the part I had taken relative to the enfranchisement question, he was striving to be, the dictator of Crooksley. My own influence was not slight, and a powerful party rose up, notwithstanding our adversaries were earliest in the field. The walls were everywhere placarded, families were every- where divided by circulars. "Vote for Joggins," " Yote for Cramper;" "Joggins and grey hairs," "Cramper and Musical Accomplishments;" " Joggins the veteran parent of our brave defenders," " Cramper and Female Virtue ;" " Joggins and the failure of eyesight." " Cramper and Organic changes :" these were among the changes rung throughout the village, and a mile or two round it, for upwards of three weeks. I called public meetings, at which I took the chair, and personally carried the resolu- tions; and I started a Crooksley Chronicle, of which I was at once theeditor I "my vote and interest." 67 and all the correspondents. In both capacities I defied our antagonists to prove that their candidate had any one of the qualifications by which ours was so abundantly distinguished. I dared them to prove that there were any brave defenders on the other side ; that there existed any ocular weakness ; that there was a single grey hair or any symptom of decrepi- tude : while, on the other hand, I showed triumphantly that the legiti- mate candidate for the office of organist was a veteran flute-player, utterly and hopelessly incapable of any exertion whatever, and unobjectionable by the excess of his infirmity. Blandish was so alarmed at the progress we made, that he began to give out in reply that Miss Cramper was considerably more advanced in years than had been insidiously suggested; that her eyesight was anything but vivid ; that what seemed to be her own hair might not bear exami- nation ; and possibly he would have proceeded to other intimations tend- ing to balance her claims with those of Joggins, had she not stopped him with the declaration that she would rather lose her election, rather retire from the contest, than sanction such gross misrepresentations of fact. Truth, she said, was everything, and it must prevail ; her hair was her own, and her eyes piercers, she thanked Heaven. But notwithstanding this electioneering attack upon his own nominee, 1 saw that Blandish was on the very best terms with Miss C. ; and as the interest he took in her success could not solely be attributed to grati- tude for her attendance at all his evening parties, to play his guests into patients, by provoking headaches that demanded draughts and powders in the morning, I issued, the day previously to the poll, a placard contain- ing surely a very inoffensive query, thus — " WHY is Blandish the patron of Miss Cramper ?" The " why" was in very large capitals. Now will it be believed that this, though it asserted nothing disrespectful, and merely put an innocent question, immediately created a very strong sympathy throughout Crooksley in favour of our adversaries, and that the popular feeling was instantly shown in tumultuous cries of " Cramper for ever !" So it happened, however. The result was, that the venerable Joggins had virtually lost his election before the expiration of the first hour of polling. I then, feeling that every vote was wanted, went forward to record my own ; when perceiving Blandish (he had a horse- whip in his hand), I turned back with the view of bringing up a batch of electors from a distant part of the village ; and on my return all was at an end, and so my vote wasn't wanted ; for Joggins, the old idiot, had resigned. I had a disagreeable encounter afterwards with that Blandish, who is, I really think, fonder of carrying a horsewhip than any man I know; but gloriously was I at a subsequent period revenged; for I shammed a long illness, sent off to a neighbouring town for an apothe- cary, and paid him thirty -seven pounds odd for attendance which I never required, and medicine which I never tasted ! Poor Blandish was so irritated, that he fell really ill himself, and took his own mixtures for three weeks. About a year after this we had another election in Crooksley. The gravediggership became vacant. The Blandish party, who had the churchwardens with them, wanted to get in young Digdum, the son of F 2 68 GEORGE CRUIKSHANk's OMNIBUS. the late official ; and he would have walked the course sure enough, if I hadn't brought forward little Spick the cross-sweeper to oppose him. Party feeling never ran so high, I think, as on this memorable occasion. Every- body felt the cause to be his own, and put forth his energies as though the issue of the struggle depended upon his exertions. It was like a life-and- death contest ; and you would have thought that the consequence of being beaten was the being buried alive by the victorious candidate. I'm sure that if it had been to keep ourselves out of "apartments furnished" in the churchyard, we Spickites could not have toiled harder. Nor were the Digdumites idle. On our side we had ranged, besides myself, who acted as chairman o* the committee, Lawyer Knix (who handsomely volunteered his gratuitous services at two guineas a day) ; Fobbs, the landlord of the Crumpet and Spade ; Tipson, of the Vicar's Head ; (both of them very fond of an oppo- sition, and always ready to further my views in bringing forward a candidate, and in keeping the poll open to the latest moment allowed by law ;) then we had the crack printer of our town, whose charges were very moderate ; several of the neighbouring gentry, friends of my own ; and one Swarthy Sam, a character who had no fixed abode in Crooksley, nor indeed anywhere else, and had not, therefore, a vote to give — but who kindly took an interest in the contest, and who proved a most valuable agent, for he particularly knew what he was about in a row, could drown by his own unaided lungs the voice of the most stentorian speaker on the other side, and would tear down, I do think, more of the enemy^s placards in an hour than they could stick up in a day. On their side, they had the fat churchwarden, and the stately master of the workhouse ; the skeleton of a schoolmaster, the parish-lawyer (Knix was independent), and various other paid functionaries or hirelings. Well, there wasn't one of them that didn't wish himself well out of Crooksley before the contest was over; for we left nothing of their private history unraked, I can tell you. The " Crooksley Chronicle" came again into play, and I wrote letters — in Junius's style — only under the various signatures of Vindex, Justitia, A Spickite, Philo-Spickite, Veritas, An Admirer of Crooksley, Anti-Digdum, &c. &c. We also raised with remarkable success, a cry of "No brickdust, no pigs' bristles!" in conjunction with the cry of " No Digdum." It did not in point of fact mean anything in particular, as far as we were aware, but it vexed the Digdum party amazingly, and made Spick surprisingly popular*. The best of the fun was that we had forestalled them in taking posses- sion of both public-houses — the Crumpet and Spade, and the Vicar's Head — for our committee-rooms ; so that they had only a little bit of a beer- shop to assemble in. This drove the Digdum party to distraction. They made incredible exertions to get us out of the Vicar's Head ; and a depu- tation came privately to our worthy host's good dame, and offered, if Digdum were returned, to bury her husband for nothing — for poor Tipson • * Our respectable correspondent must have visited the English Opera in his younger days, or else Charles Mathews must have paid a visit to Crooksley. He must also have seen the printed addresses circulated lately in Deptford during a contest for the office of gravedigger, ■where the proceedings were as outrageous as these that he describes. r MY VOTE AND INTEREST. was sadly apoplectic ! Such were the too-powerful temptations (for so in some instances they proved), such the demoralising practices, to which our depraved and desperate opponents had resort. They went to Clank the blacksmith, and promised, if he would but vote for Digdum, they would see him and all his family buried with pleasure free of charge ; but Clank was not to be seduced, for having once had a turn-up with Swarthy Sam in the skittle-ground, he preferred being on the same side with Sam, you see — not caring to fall out — and to say the truth, they were not a few that had similar feelings. Sam was a capital canvasser, and it wasn't everybody Jhat would like to say "No" to him. At last dawn'd the day, the important day, ** Big with the fate of Digdum or of Spick." Every soul in Crooksley was out of doors ; the excitement was intense ; seventeen pots of beer and best part of a round of beef were consumed at the Crumpet and Spade alone before ten in the morning. Every chaise, fly, and hack in old Wheeler's yard was in requisition. Both parties were particularly well satisfied with the result of the canvass, and assembled at the place of nomination with equal confidence. Our flags bore the seve- ral inscriptions of " Spick the opponent of Corruption," " Spick and Span," "Spades are trumps," &c. ; theirs had, "No Cross -sweeper," " No Sweeping Changes," " Digdum and the Rites of the Departed," &c. &c. Blandish nominated Digdum, and then I proposed Spick in a neat and appropriate speech. Well we gained our election — that is, we gained it by a show of hands ; but the other party took the mean advantage of demanding a poll. There was instantly a rush of upwards of a dozen on their side, and very near a score on ours. To keep up the advantage we had gained was the thing. Unfortunately some of our safest voters were now drunk, having received eighteen-pence a piece to attend the nomination of candidates; and instead of flocking to the poll, off they went to the Vicar's Head, or the Crumpet and Spade, swearing they wouldn't vote at all unless supplied with pots round ; which Fobbs and Tipson very readily drew for them : I having desired those disinterested persons in the morning not to stand very nice about a measure or two of ale, and they promised me they would not, as I was to pay. And this, in fact, I shouldn't have minded ; but, unluckily, the worthy electors got so drunk that they absolutely forgot what colours they fought under, and went and voted for the wrong candidate. This turned the scale against us. What was to be done ? I had already got some of the Digdumites away; a tenant of mine, seven miles off, having engaged to " coop" them, that is, to make them " fuddled," and to prevent their return in time. A few more must be pounced upon. Swarthy Sam (that invaluable election-agent) undertook to inveigle them and manage the business. We got a vehicle or two ; and partly by cajolery, partly by intimidation, and a display of the enemy's colours, off we carried in an opposite direction to the poll a batch of Digdum's supporters. Away we drove, Sam conducting us, through by-lanes and across ploughed-fields, I may say, so that I hardly knew where I was. Deaf to all remonstrances, 70 GEORGE CRUIKSHANk's OMNIBUS. on we went, till, feeling pretty secure, I pretended it was time to turn back or we should all be too late for the poll, and jumped down to consult privately with Sam as to the expediency of further stratagems ; when — to my inexpressible astonishment and confusion, as you may well imagine — my swarthy vagabond of an agent, whom I trusted on account of his bad character, and because nobody else would, indulged his lungs with the most vociferous roar of laughter I ever heard, to which the entire party added a chorus. In one instant the whole line of vehicles wheeled round and galloped off towards Crooksley, leaving me staggering helplessly into a deep ditch on my left, overcome with rage, mortification, and dismay. They all arrived in time to vote for Digdum, Sam and all, who went up arm in arm with Clank, the blacksmith. As for me, I never found my way back until hours after the poll had closed ; and as I approached the scene with a foreboding heart, the first person I encountered was the defeated Spick — Spick the rejected of Crooksley — who bitterly assailed me as the sole cause of his total " ruination," having spoiled his trade of cross- sweeping by exciting everybody against him, and reduced him to a con- dition that promised his successful rival immediate employment in his new profession. " I shouldn't ha' minded," he said, with a sneer, " your not guving on me your wote, but what I complains on is, you would guv me your hintrest P After this, as you may well suppose, I grew rather disgusted, and a little sick of exercising one's public spirit and disinterested philanthropy to no purpose ; so I permitted Dr. Blandish to triumph on one or two occasions, rather than subject the town to the inconvenience of a con- tested election. I allowed the boy Bratts, whom he patronised, to get elected into our Juvenile Asylum without opposition ; and when Soppy put up for the situation of turncock, full in the teeth of Blandish's pet candidate, though he came to me and implored the favour of my vote and interest, I gave him neither. I did not poll for him, nor did I solicit a soul in his behalf; yet Soppy won the election by a considerable majority. Indeed Blandish has been disgracefully beaten on more than one occasion when I had disdained to interfere at all ; though whenever I ham interfered — when I have canvassed my very heart out, and talked the teeth out of my head — bribing here, treating there — threatening this man with the loss of my custom, and tempting the other with all sorts of seductive promises — hang me (for it puts me in a passion !) if he hasn't been triumphantly successful. There was the election of a contractor to supply leather-shorts to the charity school. I decided to take no part in it ; but when I perceived which way the election was sure to go, when I saw which man would beat to a dead certainty, I changed my mind, threw all my influence into the scale of the popular candidate, gave him my entire support, and would have given him my vote — only he resigned on the morning of the election not having a chance of winning ; for directly I took up his cause, he began to lose ground : — odd enough, you will say, but it so happened ; although I set a barrel flowing at Tipson's, promised old coats at Christ- mas to two dozen ragged but independent electors, and gave at least half that number of the better class permission to shoot on my property. 71 The last great battle that I fought was on behalf of widow Bricks, candidate for the office of housekeeper to our Infirmary. Here Dr. B. was " top-sawyer," as they say ; this was carrying the war into the enemy's country. All Crooksley was astonished, petrified almost, at my boldness ; but I was lucky in my choice of a candidate, the Bricks having been resident in the place as long as Crooksley itself had been in exist- ence, and the widow being left with eleven small children ; while the Doctor's candidate hadn't the smallest scrap of offspring to go to the poll with. So to the work of philanthropy I went ; and notwithstanding a hint from the Blandish faction, that if beaten the Doctor would certainly resign his office in the institution, I was successful beyond my hopes. We elected the eleven little Bricks upon our committee, and took them about with us upon our canvas — a procession singularly imposing and irresistible. Nothing could equal the popular enthusiasm ; and the greatest possible effect was created wherever they appeared, for we kept them all without their dinners up till bed-time, to make them cry ; which is the only method of melting the public heart, since a constant drop, we are told, will wear away a stone. The eldest of the Bricks, a boy, had a turn for spouting ; and we made him address the people from the window of the Vicar's Head, by reciting " My name is Norval," which he had heard done by some strolling- players. This was amazingly successful; but unfortunately the mob consisted chiefly of non-electors, for it was only the subscribers to the institution who had the privilege of voting. Voters, therefore, I made in scores, simply by paying their subscriptions for them. As fast as Blandish could extract promises from the old subscribers, I produced new ones ; the list of qualified electors exceeded anything ever heard of in the annals of benevolence. I spare you the speech I made at the nomination of candidates ; merely remarking, that I wasn't aware there was so much virtue in woman as I discovered in the widow, and that I never knew there were half so many charms and graces in infancy, as I detected in her eleven little angels — who all stood in a heartrending row upon the hustings, crying lustily, for they had not been allowed a bit of breakfast on" that important occa- sion. The effect was seen as the voting proceeded ; the compassionate rushed to the poll and voted for Bricks, I may say, like bricks. Still our opponents mustered strongly, and I was compelled to make a good many people benevolent that morning who had never spent a shilling in charity in their lives. The numbers for a considerable time were pretty nearly balanced ; the excitement grew more intense, the shouts of "Vote for Bricks and Babbies," grew more vehement as the day advanced ; till towards the close of the poll, the Blandish faction appeared a little a-head of us, but at last they were exhausted ; they had polled their last Samaritan — the Doctor himself had given his vote — while I had purposely reserved mine. Now, mine alone was sufficient to win ; mine alone would decide the contest in the widow's favour ; for, having trebled my usual subscrip- tion, I had a right to six votes, and six would give us just a majority of one. With a heart swelling with conscious triumph, exulting in the cause of charity and the defeat of our factious adversaries, I walked up to the ballot-box (we voted by ballot), and there what do you think occurred ? 72 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S OMNIBUS. Directing a haughty look to the Doctor s generally red face, now pale with rage, I was not sufficiently cautious in distinguishing between the Y for " Yes," and the N for " No," painted on the front of the balloting- machine ; and inconsiderately turning my hand to the left instead of the right, I dropped the six cork marbles into the enemy's box — hang me, if I didn't vote against Widow Bricks. Dr. Blandish danced for joy, and I really thought he never would stand still again. Not another shilling will his infirmary get from me. If Crooksley were to return four members to Parliament, J wouldn't be one of them. THE CENSUS. Important days to all householders in the United Kingdom, were Sunday and Monday, the 6th and 7th ult., and especially perplexing to those whose ideas of reading and writing were at all circumscribed. Nor was the discomfort confined to the said illuminated members of society. Ladies of a very certain age bridled up at being obliged to tell the num- ber of summers that had passed over their heads : notwithstanding the loop-hole of the " five years " which the gallantry of the commis- sioners allowed them. Elderly gentlemen also, who wore dark wigs that hid those auricular tell-tales of the ci-devant jeune homme, the ears, inwardly execrated the system of exposure to which the, census paper gave rise, and willingly ran the risk of a fine " not more than five pounds, nor less than forty shillings," rather than be classed as old bachelors. From returns into which the commissioners have allowed us to peep, it appears that of the middle-aged population of these kingdoms, one in three has grown five years younger since the date of the last census ; one in seven two years younger ; one in twelve remains of the same age ; one in thirty-eight, is five years older than at the period referred to ; and one in five hundred and sixty has attained the full age that might have been anticipated from the lapse of years. We believe it has been distinctly ascertained by these returns that the highest age among the unmarried ladies in this country is twenty-nine — the average age is twenty-one and seven-eighths. The widows willing to marry again, are mostly quite juvenile ; and it is a remarkable fact that many are younger now, as widows, than they appear to be in the previous return as wives. Indeed the effect of the whole calculation is to show, perhaps in compliment to our young Queen, that her subjects are the most decidedly juvenile people in Christendom. Nor was the designation of the respective professions and callings of our fellow-countrymen a task of less difficulty. Commonplace and even plebeian, as is the simple question " Who are you V* widely as the interrogation was diffused a short time back by the gamins of London, it is a query we opine, in common with the cool audacious Mr. Dazzle, that would puzzle half the world to answer properly. Some are all profession — others are not any. Thousands live by their wits — thousands more by the total absence of them ; many whom the world THE CENSUS. 73 gives credit to for working hard in an industrious etat for their income, privately lead the lives of gentlemen ; and many gentlemen whom we envy on account of their ostensible otiose existence, labour perchance in secret much harder than ourselves. Numbers would shrink if their employment was known, and numbers more would be extremely indig- nant if any other than their own was assigned to them. The schedule stated that the professions of wives, or sons and daugh- ters, living with and assisting their parents, needed not to be inserted. There was no mention at all made of the professions of faithless lovers, election candidates, and false friends ; probably these were imagined to be of so little value as to be utterly beneath notice. But although the commissioners were pleasantly minute and clear in their instructions for filling up their circulars, they will still be wide away from the real statistics of the population, when all the bills are returned and the totals properly added. What industrious enumerator, we would ask, did, with praiseworthy indefatigability, leave a schedule at the temporary habitations of the thousand individuals who on the Monday in question were located upon Ascot Heath, in anticipation of the ap- proaching races? Who dared to penetrate into the mysteries of the yellow caravans there collected, or invade the Bohemian seclusion of the tilted hovels ? What account was taken of the , roadside tent-holders, and the number of the families of these real " potwallopers ?" Is the following paper relating to these people, which has fallen into our hands, the mislaid document of a careless enumerator of the Sunning-hill district, or is it an attempt to play upon our credulity : (copy.) Name, (if any) of the House, or of the Village or "I Hamlet in which it stands. Name of the Street or other part of the Town, (if in Y a Town), and Ne. of the House. Caravan, No. 937,654. Winkfield Lane. Name and surname of each person who abode or slept in this House on the night of June 6. Age of Males. Age of Females. Of what Profession, Trade, or Employ- ment, or if of In- dependent means. If born in the County. If born in Ireland, &c. Bill Soames . . . mary Soames . . . Gipsy Mike .... Phelim Conolly . . . Sarah Cooper . Young Chubby a babby Brummagim Harry . . 45 not Nown 35 2 40 38 24 Shoman. Wife — vurks the barrul horgau outside None. Black vild ingian. tellin offfortuns. ired fur the Races, keeps a Thimble-rig. No No No not sartin No St. Giles's Yes don't Kno No No veresper- tickler never Knowd But there were many, many others, who were excluded from the privi- lege of registering their names amongst the population of their country. The unfortunate individuals who slept throughout the night in the stony precincts of the police-office lock-up cells, were deprived of this honour. Even admitting that the police had received instructions to take down the names of the stray-flocks under their charge, the ends of the commissioners were still defeated, for it was not probable that the Hon. Clarence Pierce- field, who had kicked the head waiter at the Cider-cellars, for telling 74 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK's OMNIBUS. him not to join in the glees so loudly — who had thrashed the cabman in Holborn — who had climbed up behind King Charles at Charing- cross, and who, finally, upon being pulled down again by the police and taken into custody, had given his name as Thomas Brown, — it was not probable, we repeat, that this honourable gentleman would see any occasion to alter the name in the schedule, or recant his alleged profession of " medi- cal student." His rightful appellation found no place in the paper, no more than the hundreds who slept out altogether that night, from the wretched, shivering, poverty-stricken occupiers of the embryo coal-cellars of future houses in the neighbourhood of railway termini, to the tipsy gentleman who tumbled by mistake into a large basket of turnip-tops and onions in Covent Garden-market, and slept there until morning, dreaming that he was the inhabitant of an Eastern paradise, with houris pelting roses at him. Even the ill-used Mr. Ferguson, whom everybody has heard of, but nobody knows, failing in all his attempts to procure a lodg- ing for the night, found no place in the strictly- worded schedule. The real name of Mr. Ferguson is Legion, yet he found a lodging nowhere. And many returns of the erratic youth of respectable families must prove, that their very fathers did not know they were out, to say nothing of their mothers : on the other hand, probably many more would be found wanting in the real numbers, were circumstances narrowly inquired into. It is fortunate for the correctness of the statistics that Sunday was the day fixed upon for enumerating the population. Had it been any other, the numbers who slept in the house would have materially swelled the lists. The House of Commons might have furnished an imposing array of names every night in the week to begin with. The various literary institutions and scientific meetings of the metropolis, on their respective nights, would not have been behind hand ; and even the theatres, might "have sent in a tolerably fair muster-roll of slumberers, according to the nature of their performances. We presume that the guards of mail-coaches, drovers who were going to the Monday's markets, watchmen of houses, newly-buried relations, and medical men attending Poor Law Unions, will be allowed a future opportunity of registering their names; for none of these individuals were ever known — at least we believe not — to sleep or abide one night in their houses. Are these hardworking and useful classes of society to be accounted as nothing — to be placed in a scale even beneath " persons sleeping over a stable or outhouse," who, although not worthy to be inserted along with their betters in the schedule, are, at all events allowed a paper to themselves ? The care that arranged the manner of enumera- ting the population ought to have put forward plans for taking the census of the always-out of-doors portion of the English on the night in question, hackney-coachmen included ; and a space might, at the same time, have been appropriated in the schedule for " those who were not at home, but ought to have been/' "We will not dwell upon the material difference this important feature would have made to the calculations in many points. We give the commissioners a peep at the fallacy of their plans, and we leave it to them to remedy it. All we have to add, in conclusion is, that we sent in our own name according to the prescribed ordinance, but it was not Rocket. I 75 LOVE'S MASQUERADING. BY LAMAN BLANCHARD. Love never less surprises Than when his tricks are tried ; In vain are all disguises, Himself he cannot hide. He came, the Masquerader, To conscious Kate, one day, Attempting to persuade herj He then was — far away ! "Ah Love ! she cried, unfearing, " Take any shape you will, Strange, distant, or endearing, This heart would know you still.' Then Love came clad like Sorrow ; His robe was dark as night ; But like a golden morrow, Flash'd forth his forehead's light ; She knew him, as with languor He play'd the wounded dove : Then fierce he frown'd — 'twas Anger ! But still she knew 'twas Love ! Then came he wreathed like Pleasure : In vain he cried, " Rejoice !" And sang a laughing measure — She knew him, by his voice. He tuned his tongue to railing, Performing Envy's task ; His scowl was unavailing, She saw him — through his mask. Like cloak'd Revenge then stealing, With poniard bare he came, His limbs, his looks, concealing — Yet still he seem'd the same. Then he, his thoughts dissembling, With Jealousy's wild air, Stood raging, watching, trembling, — Yet Love alone stood there. Next came he garb'd like Malice Yet wore his cheek the rose, No poison crowns his chalice, With wine it overflows. And then as Joy, arrayed in Rare colours from above ; He failed again — the maiden In Joy saw only Love ! Then casting off his splendour. He took black Hatred's guise ; But all his tones were tender, She knew him — by his eyes. In all he fail'd ; when glancing Like Fear, afraid to stir ; And when like Hope, half-dancing — For Hope was Love to her. u In vain," she cried, "your powers, Take any shape you may ; Are hearts less wise than flowers, That know the night from day ?" 76 FRANK HEARTWELL; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. BY BOWMAN TILLER. CHAPTER III. A rigid search after Mr. Heartwell was instituted under the super- intendence of two of the most efficient officers of the Bow Street establish- ment. The evidence given by the coachman was proved to be strictly correct, except that a small portion of time was unaccounted for between the period of his having — as he stated — set the lieutenant down in Ormond Street, and his arrival at the coach-stand in Covent Garden, which according to the deposition of the waterman was much later than would have been required to traverse the distance between the two places. But Simpson's explanation was that, having by request driven his fare very quick to Ormond Street, he merely walked his horses to Charle3 Street in order to cool them. Nothing whatever having been elicited that day which was calculated to throw any light on the mysterious affair, Mr. Brady with his witnesses appeared before Mr. Bond on the following morning at the time appointed, when the officers made their reports, and were instructed to persevere. The Bank Agent deposed that he had paid over to the lieutenant at the office of Mr. Brady, and in the presence of the lawyer and his clerk, a thousand guineas in gold, and bank-notes to the amount of fourteen thousand pounds, besides securities and deeds, relating to property sup- posed to be of considerable value in the East Indies, all which had belonged to the lieutenant's uncle, who had died without issue and intes- tate : he produced the receipt for the charge he had delivered, and stated that he had earnestly advised the lieutenant to deposit the whole in the hands of his professional man to invest for him to the best advantage ; but though Mr. Heartwell perfectly assented to the propriety of such a step, yet he expressed himself so desirous of displaying his newly acquired fortune to his wife, that as a matter of course he (the agent) offered no further argument against it. Shipkins, the clerk, corroborated the statement of Mr. Brady ; but in addition, mentioned that the lieutenant had declared that it was his intention to resign his appointment to the seventy-four for the purpose of remaining at home with his family, but that it would be necessary for him in the first instance to visit Portsmouth. The officers used their utmost vigilance, and the Secretary of State offered a large reward to any one who could render information of the fate of the missing officer. Ben was despatched to Portsmouth to make inquiry whether his master had been seen in that neighbourhood, or on board the ship ; but no clue was obtained. Days — weeks — months passed away, and Mrs. Heartwell experienced an unmitigated state of anxiety and suspense. Yet though doubts pre- vailed that she should never behold him again, she determined never to clothe herself in the semblance of mourning till she had proof that he was dead. PRANK HEARTWELL; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. 77 Young Frank partook of the feelings of his mother ; but the elasticity of boyhood does not long retain the acuteness of sorrow ; the delightful changes which Nature is constantly presenting to the ardency of youth and ♦ " All is beautiful, for all is new," superseded the grief which preys upon more advanced age, when the heart knoweth its own bitterness ; and whilst the mother was pining and weep- ing over her heavy affliction, Frank forgot in the joys of amusement that the're was anything like unhappiness in the world. He was a bold, free- hearted, jovial lad, who loved to frolic over the gardens and grounds round the British Museum. Nor was Ben inactive in either promoting the mirthful indulgences of the lad, although there might be a little mischief in progress, or seeing that fair-play was exercised when pugnacity or wrong led to pugilistic encounters. It is true that the fond parent in her solicitude would expostulate, and on some occasions reprove ; but the ready acknowledgment of error which Frank always made when in the wrong, and the argument of Ben, " Bless you, my lady, you can't never go for to rig out an ould figure-head upon young shoulders — besides, what's the odds, so as you're happy ? " soon produced reconciliation and pardon. It has been said " Sweet are the uses of adversity ; " but it is hard to contemplate the approach of poverty with its train of evils that no mortal influence can subdue ; atid such was the case with Mrs. Heart well. Daily she saw her resources decreasing — the pay of the lieutenant was stopped ; she could not claim her widow's pension, for she had no proof of her husband's death ; there were no relations to whom she could apply in her distress for assistance or counsel. Mr. Brady had sent in a heavy bill for law business, and pressed for payment ; difficulties in short accumu- lated on all sides. One, and only one, of her former associates continued to visit her ; and this was an elderly man of unattractive manners, who claimed a distant relationship. He seldom spoke but when addressed ; and his remarks were generally of a caustic and misanthropic cast, render- ing him an object not only of dislike to many, but of fear to some. He was poor, but how he lived no one knew ; and yet on more than one occasion he had spoken of important affairs even in the state, that displayed a tolerably accurate knowledge of persons and things far above his station in society : in short, he was a mystery that set conjecture at defiance. Such was Mr. Unity Peach ; in age between fifty and sixty ; a large round face, with a great bushy wig upon his head, and one eye covered over with a black patch, the other grey and cold without ex*pression ; he was stout made, short, and with limbs like a giant, though he com- plained of feebleness and debility. He seldom uttered one word of cheering kindness, yet when asked for his advice he would give it ; and it was seldom known to fail in its beneficial results. To Frank and the seaman he was an object of aversion that they did not care at all times to conceal; yet, with a perverseness that seemed congenial to his character, if there was any individual to whom the old man could be attached, it was Ben Brailsford. " You are hurrying on to ruin," said Mr. Unity Peach one day, in 78 reply to a question from Mrs. Heartwell ; " large house — lazy sailor- mischievous boy." " But I would willingly quit the house, sir," returned the lady, " and strive by some means or other to provide for myself and child." " Let lodgings — keep a school — make the boy a shoemaker — send that Jack Tar to sea/' was the response. " I have hitherto been guided in my conduct, Mr. Peach, by what I have supposed would be satisfactory to my husband could he witness my actions," replied the lady ; " and yet — oh yes, I see there is no other resource, though I should prefer removing from this neighbourhood." " Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall," quoted the old man ; " Go on and starve — no help for it." " I wish I had some friend to counsel me," exclaimed the afflicted woman, as the tears gushed from her eyes. " Bah ! — nonsense ! — friends, indeed ! Wont take counsel — good morn- ing ; " and Mr. Unity arose to depart. " I meant no reflections upon you, Mr. Peach," returned the lady. You have at times advised me, and well too — but indeed, sir, your harshness " " I know it, — I know it," bitterly replied the old man, interrupting her, whilst a malicious grin played upon his swarthy countenance ; "you hate me — you all hate me." " You do me great injustice to suppose such a thing," responded Mrs. Heartwell, mildly ; " I would wish to entertain respect and esteem " u Bah ! folly 1 " uttered Mr. Unity, preventing the concluding remarks of the lady. " No such things in the world as respect, esteem — all deceit." " I have a better opinion of my fellow-creatures " " Better opinion ! " interrupted the old man, with a taunting sneer. " Yes — right — husband murdered — lawyer threatening — abandoned in trouble— sinking in poverty — eat up with pride — idle boy — saucy sailor — fellow-creatures indeed !" At this moment Ben entered, and though deference and respect for his mistress kept him silent, yet the clenching of his fist and the indignation of his look plainly evidenced that he would, if he durst, have given Mr. Unity Peach a thrashing. Nor did the old man seem insensible to what was passing in the worthy seaman's mind, for he turned upon him a glance of contempt and defiance that but ill accorded with the angular inclination of his body, which betokened weakness and decrepitude. Mrs. Heartwell, endeavouring to suppress her agitation, turned with a look of inquiry to Ben. "Why, my lady, I don't perticklarly want anything," replied the seaman somewhat confusedly, as he fidgetted about the room in his accustomed way when he had any communication of importance to make. " Has anything occurred ? " asked the lady with impatience. " Bless you, my lady," ejaculated Ben, whilst a flush spread over his cheeks, and a tear stood trembling in his eye ; " I ounly wish I was rouling in gould and I'd soon capsize the lubbers ; but ounly speak the word and I'll do it now, though the unconscionable^ scamps have boarded us in the smoke." FRANK HEARTWELL; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. 79 " Of whom are you speaking ? " demanded Mrs. Heartwell, as a thrill of sickly apprehension passed through her heart. But the seaman had not time to answer before the door of the room was opened, and in walked a corpulent but athletic man, whose very appearance announced his calling to be that of a sheriff's officer; whilst close behind him came his assistant, though he did not venture beyond the door- way. " "Werry sorry, ma'am — werry sorry," said the officer, producing a writ of execution, 44 1 al'ays likes to be civil to ladies, but must do my dooty you know — - mustn't I, sir ? " and he turned to Mr. Unity Peach, who, bent down and leaning heavily on his stick, which he seemed to grasp convulsively, nodded assent. 44 What is all this ? " demanded Mrs. Heartwell, looking first at the officer and then at Mr. Peach, and then at Ben, who, though it was the height of summer, had got hold of the poker, and was busily stirring the white paper shavings that ornamented the grate. 44 Oh, it's not werry much, maara," replied the officer, displaying the official document ; " it's only a writ as I've got to sarve, and in course must trespass upon your family for board and lodging till the matter's settled — that's all." 44 I do not understand it, Mr. Peach," said the distressed lady ; "pray explain it to me." 44 Bailiff ! " replied the old man, pointing to the officer in an introduc- tory manner; " come to seize furniture — some of your fellow creatures : " and then, mimicking the manners of the official, he wound up with the same exclamation — " that's all." " That's all, ay, and enough too ! " mumbled Ben as he made the room echo with rattling the poker in the grate ; u I ounly wish my lady 'ud give the word, I'm blessed if it should be all ; I'd larn 'em to seize furni- ture ; and it arn't best for their health that they clap a flipper upon it whilst I'm here." " Go to sea," muttered Mr. Unity Peach. " "Work for your living— - don't lazy away your time here ! " 44 I tell you what it is, ould genelman," exclaimed Ben, all the feelings of the tar aroused within his breast. " You're an oncantankerous scamp with your spiteful tongue. But bless you, my lady, ounly say the word and 111 clear the decks of the whole boiling of 'em afore you can look round you ; " and the seaman flourished the poker in a menacing attitude at the officer and his follower, but the next instant he felt his arm restrained as if it had been fixed in the gripe of a blacksmith's vice, and by his side stood Mr. Unity Peach. " Put that poker down," said the old man in a tone of command as he grasped the seaman's wrist ; " obey the laws." " All werry right, sir," uttered the sheriff's officer ; " not as I'm afear'd of being attackted, but arter all there's nothing like obeying the law, and it shows as you're a man of sense. I must do my dooty, howsomever unpleasant. There's the writ, ma'am." 44 At whose suit ?" demanded Mr. Peach^who quietly took the weapon from Ben's hand, and replaced it within the fender. " At the suit of Muster Jocelyn Brady," replied the officer, " attorney- 80 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK/s OMNIBUS. at-law, Lincoln's Inn. Debt and costs one hundred and seventeen pounds, six shillings, and eightpence." "The villain !" uttered a voice, half suppressed, from some part of the room, but from whom it proceeded it would have been difficult to say. Poor Mrs. Heartwell was almost overwhelmed, and Frank coming in from school and staring wildly at the spectacle, added to her distress. On seeing his mother's tears, he threw his arms round her neck and kissed her ; and then, turning round with flushed cheeks and a fierceness that he seldom manifested, demanded of the officer " what business hehad there ? " This Mr. Peach explained in as few words as possible, but not without instilling venom into what he did say, to the great anger of Ben, and the increased dislike of the boy. But there was no avoiding the instrument of the law, nor any means to get rid of its agent. The execution was served, and the bailiff remained in charge. The almost heart-broken Mrs. Heartwell waited upon the lawyer, but he refused to see her ; the furniture was sold ; and it racked her heart to part with things which time and circumstances had endeared to her ; and now she, who had been within a few minutes of attaining affluence, was reduced to the verge of destitution. A small, ready-furnished apartment received the mourner and her son ; but her money was gone, she knew no one to whom she could apply. Ben had expended every shilling that he possessed ; but the worthy fellow would not desert his mistress ; he got employment in a rigging gang to fit out East Indiamen, and, reserving a bare subsistence for himself, he devoted all that he could spare to the use of Frank and his mother. Nor was this all ; for after his hours of labour were over in the week days, and each Sunday, he was constant in his attendance, to perform every kind office that he could without failing in the respect he had ever manifested towards his mistress. Nor did Mr. Peach forsake the afflicted lady, though his visits were not so frequent as before ; and he was incessant in his complaints of bad health, decaying strength, and growing poverty. " Mrs. Heartwell procured needlework, and toiled day and night to keep Frank at school, and to obtain him food and clothes. Nor could she even have done this but through the generosity of some unknown friend, who regularly transmitted her thirty shillings a month without note or comment. She believed her benefactor to be a kind and wealthy lady who had formerly taken an interest in her welfare ; but it was evident the donor did not wish to be openly known. Thus progressed another twelve months. Ben and Frank were in- separable companions as often as they could be together; and though Mr. Peach was constantly persuading his mother to bind the lad appren- tice to a shoemaker, he still continued improving in his education, and the hard-toiling seaman often went without indulgences himself that he might secretly supply his young friend with pocket-money. At length to her great astonishment, Mrs. Heartwell received by post under a blank cover a note of the Bank of England for £100. Tears of joyous gratitude filled her eyes. The following day was devoted to recreation — the first she had known since the loss of her husband. And now came the con- sideration as to the best mode of employing the gift to the most advan- \ I FRANK HBARTWELL ; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. 81 tageous use. At first the feelings of the mother directed her sole attention to young Frank, and she thought of appropriating a large portion to putting him out in the world ; but Mr. Peach, who was consulted on all important occasions, advised her to take a respectable house, furnish apartments, and let them to a respectable tenant : nor did he forget to insist upon his usual proposition of making Frank a cordwainer. In every particular, save the last, the advice was followed. CHAPTER IV. Never was there a more instructive lesson issued to the nations of the earth than that which marked the origin, progress, and termination of the French Revolution, with all its concomitant circumstances and final results. England with free institutions, and increasing in population, industry, and commerce, had set a bright example of what may be achieved under constitutional means ; and as the English were ardent lovers of liberty, it cannot be supposed that they were indifferent to its extension on the Continent. Nor were they inactive at home ; the changes in France had caused a feverish excitement amongst the working classes here, which interested traders in politics were not slow in turning to their own advantage. In order to counteract and defeat the evil machinations of such men, the government took into pay a number of individuals to act as spies in the camp of the disaffected ; and as their wages depended upon the continuance of commotion, it very naturally followed that in numerous cases they were the secret promoters of agitation. But the political movement was not confined exclusively to the lower ranks in life ; many of the middle grade had joined in it, and amongst the active disseminators of revolutionary principles was Mr. Jocelyn Brady. But he moved in an elevated sphere, and was looked upon and treated with confidence by his party, both high and low. His legal practice was reported to be extensive, and he was said to be possessed of considerable property. He had both a town and a country residence, and he gave excellent dinners. But he was unrelenting in his avarice, vindictive when offended. The principal associate of Mr. Brady in most of his political transac- tions was a Mr. Acteon Shaft, an acute intelligent man, whose grey hairs proclaimed him to be of an advanced age ; and to him the lawyer was greatly indebted for much of the information and knowledge he obtained. Mr. Shaft had travelled far, and had visited foreign courts, and though his manners were rather uncouth, yet there was a charm in his conversation that rendered his society courted by men of talent. He was an ardent lover of rational liberty, and his generosity was the theme of universal praise. Why two men so opposite in temper and disposition should form com- panionship must remain amongst those anomalies which every day's experience displays ; even the pure metal requires a base alloy before it can be converted into sterling coin. But to return to Mrs. Heartwell, who had once more a comfortable residence, and devoted herself in every way to the improvement of her son. Frank, on his part, was most affection- ately attached to his mother, whom he revered with an intensity of feeling that was truly gratifying to her heart, and she was pleased to see that he NO. III. — VOL. I. G 82 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK's OMNIBUS. evinced a kindly and generous feeling towards his fellow-creatures. He was mirthful, but inoffensive, mild and forbearing, except when aroused by severe injury to himself or others, and then his rage was uncontrollable. The first lodger that occupied Mrs. Heartwell's apartments was a Monsieur Polverel, a French deputy, who under the specious pretext of visiting and studying the institutions of England, availed himself of the opportunity to disseminate the doctrines of "liberty and equality;" nor was he long in finding an enlarged circle of congenial spirits — mem- bers of revolutionary clubs and corresponding societies, who, though advocating " equality," took especial care that no one below a certain rank should be admitted to their meetings ; and the minister of liberty from France, Monsieur Polverel, finding that his black servant was accustomed to go out during his absence, actually locked him up in his room whenever he himself went in an evening to enjoy festivity amongst his friends, and to preach up the blessings of freedom. Ben and Frank, however, could not reconcile such tyranny to their minds, and a duplicate key being procured, the door was speedily thrown open, and forth issued Sambo to join in their amusements, and many hours did the youth listen to the negro's narratives of his native place — Port au Prince, in San Domingo — but care was always taken that he was again placed in confinement before the time of his master's return. Monsieur Polverel was one of those finicking, all legs-and-wings sort of Frenchmen who when in conversation throw themselves into attitudes not inaptly resembling the wooden harlequins of children whose members are put into motion by pulling a string, only that his body was more elongated and had something of the greyhound build ; his head was very large, and when he stood erect he looked like a beadle's staff with a globe on the top ; in fact, it would have been no difficult task to have doubled him up like a two-foot rule, or to have put his body between his legs like a clasp knife. Although a leveller, and affecting to despise distinctions, his clothes were richly ornamented and his fingers were brilliant with costly rings. When he passed an evening at home without company, he generally contrived to get Frank and Ben, and the negro into his room, where, in broken English, he propounded to them the doctrines of republicanism. Sometimes Mr. Peach was admitted, and the discussions, whilst they afforded mirth to Frank, and offence to the seaman, tended to open the understand- ing of the youth to subjects to which he had hitherto been a stranger. Frank had now passed his thirteenth year. His predilection was for the sea ; but his mother, who still had numerous difficulties to contend against, and looked upon her child as her best hope and encouragement, endeavoured by earnest persuasion to prevail upon him to settle on shore. In this she was supported by Mr. Peach ; but the lad's longings could not be overcome, though he was deterred from pro- claiming them, and thus balancing between affection for his parent and the desire to become a sailor, he remained undetermined and inactive. It was about this time that, to the great regret of Mrs. Heartwell, and the almost inconsolable grief of her son, Ben Brailsford was pressed ; and disdaining to be anything but a volunteer in the service of his king and country, he entered for a ship-of-the line, then commanded by the PRANK HEARTWELL ; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. 83 Honourable Keith Elphinstone (afterwards, Lord Keith). He wrote to inform them of this event, hoped that he should make prize-money — "wished Frank was with him on the quarter-deck as an officer — expressed sorrow at parting with them, but wound up all with his old expletive — " But what's the odds, so as you're happy ?" The youth fretted, and almost sickened at the loss of his old and faith- ful associate ; he neglected his studies, became melancholy and restless, and adhered closer to Monsieur Polverel, so as to be noticed by a distin- guished visitor to the deputy, no other than the Duke of Orleans, who ho,d been prevailed upon to visit London, by Lafayette, in order to get him out of the way of doing mischief. Frank ^became a great favourite with the Duke, who treated him with much kindness, and made Mrs. Heartwell a very handsome present to assist in promoting the lad's welfare; and ultimately offered to take him to Paris and provide for him; but this was declined — the mother could not part with her child. The beheading of the King of France excited a general feeling of horror and indignation throughout England. War was declared. The utmost activity prevailed in the dockyards ; and a naval armament was put in motion. The aristocracy, the clergy, the corporate bodies, the landed proprietors, the merchants, the bankers, became alarmed, and took the lead in the re-action that ensued. The Sectarians looked upon the French as infidels, and hailed the approach of war as the mighty engine which was to restore religion and morality. In this state of things the situation of Monsieur Polverel was not of the most pleasant description. He was well known to the French emigrants who crowded the metropolis ; and on his returning one afternoon from a republican party, he was pointed out as a disseminator of those principles which had compelled them to abandon their country. A crowd collected, who vented their abhorrence in groans and hisses. He quickened his pace, but his pursuers increased as they progressed, till the deputy was urgently persuaded to run, by hearing the clattering of stones along the pavement, and feeling more than one or two hard blows on his back. Now it was that the length of his legs rendered him good service, and a chase commenced that caused roars of laughter to the spectators, who clapped their hands and shouted with delight. On reaching Mrs. Heart- well's he knocked and rung violently, but Sambo was locked up, and the maid-servant being busy, was in no great hurry to let him in. Frank, however, had been looking out at the window, and instantly suspecting the cause of the uproar, he ran and opened the door, and the Frenchman had just time to enter as his assailants were ascending the steps. It was at first feared that they w T ould attack the house, but on being assured that Monsieur Polverel had taken his departure by the back way, the mob again set out in pursuit, but the deputy distanced them ; for without waiting for bag or baggage, he hurried to Dover as fast as a chaise-and- four could convey him, and at this latter place he received a no very gentle intimation that his presence on British ground could be entirely dispensed with ; and elated was Monsieur Polverel when he once more found himself within the gates of Calais. Nothing could exceed the joy of Sambo at his master's departure — the g 2 84 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S OMNIBUS. door was no longer locked upon him — he was free. Since Ben's departure Frank had greatly attached himself to the negro, whose good humour and constant willingness to oblige rendered him a favourite in the house. Other lodgers came to Mrs. Heartwell's ; and as Sambo had become useful, his services were retained. Frank continued at school for a few months longer, when a new scene opened before him. He had heard of a seventy-four to be launched at Deptford, and never having witnessed a ship-launch, he went, accompanied by Sambo, to see it. But the press-gangs were abroad, and they both fell into their hands; for such was, at that time, the demand for men and lads to complete the complements of the ships of war, that respectable shopkeepers, w T ho had formerly been to sea, were impressed at their own doors, and youths of " gentle blood" forced away by the gangs if found near the water-side. Sambo would have resisted when he saw that Frank was seized, but the youth saw how unavailing it would be, and desired him to desist. He told the officer that he was the son of a lieutenant in the navy, and requested to be allowed to return to his home ; but this was positively refused. He then entreated that some one might be sent to apprise his mother of his detention, and the officer promised that it should be done, and the lad, who suffered most on his parent's account, became more appeased, till on being put on board the Tender, off the Tower, a spectacle presented itself that filled his very soul with disgust. The receiving-ship was an old sloop of war, and in her hold were not less than three hundred human beings crowded together on the shingle ballast, without a single seat except the bundles which some few pos- sessed, and sat upon for safe protection. Here were crowded together seamen and landsmen, pickpockets, the refuse of the streets, and shabby- genteel gentlemen. Many a countenance was marked by sorrow, but the principal portion was composed of wild, reckless, and even lawless, men. The gratings were over the hatchways, above which sentinels were placed, and the atmosphere in the hold was hot and fetid. Several of the im- pressed men were in a state of intoxication, which produced repeated quarrels ; and though there was scarcely room to move, blows were exchanged, and heavy falls upon the shingle or against the timbers in the side caused swollen and blackened eyes, and severe contusions. Some had received cuts and injuries in their contest with the gangs, and lacerated faces presented a hideous and sickening spectacle. There was but little light during the day ; but when night arrived, only a solitary lantern shed its feeble rays, and the prowling thieves commenced their work of plunder upon their unfortunate fellow-captives. Resistance was vain ; cries of distress arose, but they were quickly subdued ; two or three held down the victim whilst his pockets were rifled : the means of obtaining liquor were thus in the power of the abandoned ; nor was it scantily, though stealthily supplied ; and drunkenness increased the disorder that prevailed till a general fight took place, which was only quelled by an armed party of seamen being sent down to preserve order. Horrible, indeed, was that night to poor Frank. To sleep was impos- sible. The noise was almost defeaning ; and his heart sickened at the oaths and imprecations he was compelled to hear. A miscreant had forci- {*"■$*, CtWuKWc: <; Well, you may keep your oath — for we will bear up for you against your will." " We will ! Who will? Do you mutiny?" " Yaw, yaw ; we all mutiny," cried the sailors ; " we have been now two years trying to double this stormy Cape, and never had a dry jacket the whole time ; we must mend our small-clothes, and darn our stockings. For two years and more we have had no fresh meat, and that is contrary 4o the articles. Captain Vanderdecken, we do not mutiny ; but we will bear up ; with your will, if you please ; if not, against your will." *' So you mutiny, you ungrateful rascals ! Well, stop a moment, till I go into my cabin ; when I come out again, I will hear what you have to 106 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S OMNIBUS. say, and see if any man dares speak ; " and Captain Vanderdecken in a great fury rushed aft and went into his cabin. " I know what he will do, my men," said Jansen ; " he has gone for his double-barrelled pistols, and will shoot us through the head ; — we must not let him come out again." " Nein, nein," replied the seamen ; and they ran to the cabin-doors, and made them fast, so that Vanderdecken could not get out, and could shoot nobody but himself. " Now my lads," said Jansen, " put the helm up, and square the yards." " What 's the course to be, Mynheer Jansen," asked the man at the helm. a Keep her right before it, my man ; how 's her head now ? " " About south-west." " That will do — it will fetch somewhere — she walks fast through it. Spielman, heave the log." "What does she go?" " Eighty-five miles an hour ; but we must allow something for the heave of the sea," replied the second mate. " She don't sail as well as she did ; but we are half full of water," replied Jansen. When a ship runs down more than two degrees of longitude in an hour, it does not take her long to go half round the world. The Flying Dutchman, as she flew along, was pursued by the demons of the storm FIRST DISCOVERY OP VAN DEMONS* LAND. 107 visible to the crew on board, although not to mortal eyes : some, with puffed-out cheeks, were urging her through the water ; others mouthed and yelled ; some kicked her stern in derision ; others tumbled and curveted in the air above her — ever keeping pace with the vessel, jibing and jeering at their victory ; for the Flying Dutchman no longer battled against the adverse elements, but at last had yielded to them. The Dutchmen cared little for the imps, they were used to them, and they smoked their pipes in silence, all but Vanderdecken ; the mutiny of the men had put his pipe out. On the second day they had passed Cape Horn without perceiving it ; the wind veered more to the east, and they steered more to the northward. On the fourth evening, the sailor on the look-out at the bow called out " Land, hoh ! " They steered right for it and entered a large bay ; the anchor, in many parts not thicker than a pipe-stem, was dropped, the foresail clued up, and having first armed themselves, the seamen let the captain loose. Vanderdecken was as savage as a bear. He ran out with a pistol in each hand, but a pea-jacket was thrown over his head, and he was disarmed. " Cowardly villains !" exclaimed the captain, as soon as the jacket was removed ; " mutinous scoundrels — " u We return to our duty, Captain Vanderdecken/' replied the crew, " we will obey your orders. What shall we do first \ Shall we mend the sails, or mend our clothes ? Shall we darn our stockings, or go on shore for fresh water ? Shall we caulk the ship, or set up the rigging ? Speak, Captain Vanderdecken, you shall order us as you please." " Tousend tyfels ! " replied Vanderdecken, " go to , all of you." " Show us the way, captain, and we will follow you," replied the crew. Gradually the captain's wrath was appeased ; the ship required refitting and watering ; he never could have doubled the Cape in the state she was in ; the mutiny had prevented his breaking his oath — and now the seamen were obedient. " Shall we take possession of the land, in the name of his most Chris- tian Majesty?" said Jansen. " Take possession in the name of his Satanic Majesty," replied Van- derdecken, turning sulkily away. The captain had not quite recovered his good-humour — he returned to his cabin, mixed a tumbler of brandy and gunpowder, set fire to it, and drank it off — this tisane cooled him down, and when he came out, the crew perceived that all was right, so they went aft and touched their hats. " Liberty on shore for an hour or two if you please," said they ; " it's a long while that we've been treading the planks." " Yes, you may go ; but I'll keelhaul every man who's not off to his work by daylight — recollect that," replied Vanderdecken. Donder und blitzen — we will all be on board, captain. " They be queer sort of people in this country," observed Jansen who had been surveying the shore of the bay with his telescope. " I can't make them out at all. I see them put their heads down close to the ground, and then they stand up again ; they wear their breeches very low, and yet they jump remarkably well — Hundred tousend tyfels !" con- 108 GEORGE CRUIKSHANKS OMNIBUS. tinued he, as he looked through the telescope again ; " there^s one of them six feet high at least, and he has jumped twenty yards. It can't be a woman — if she is, what a springy partner she would make in a dance l" " We'll take the fiddle and schnapps on shore, and have a dance with the natives," cried the boatswain. " Mind you behave civilly and make friends with them," said Vander- decken ; " don't be rude to the women. 1 " " Nein, Mynheer," replied the crew, who now lowered the boats and were very soon pulling for the shore — every man with his pipe in his mouth. The spectre-crew gained the beach — quitted the boat, and took up a position under a high rock. The pipes were refilled — the schnapps handed round, and very soon they were as jolly as ghosts could be. " Come, Jansen, give us a song," cried Spielman ; " and you, Dirk Spattrel, keep company with your fiddle." " My windpipe is not quite so fresh as it was once," said Jansen, putting his bony fingers up to his neck, " but here goes : — In spite of wind and weather, In spite of mountain waves, If our timbers hold together And we sink not to our graves ; The Cape we still will double, boys, The stormy Cape we'll clear, — Who cares for toil or trouble, boys, Who thinks of watery bier ? We left our wives behind us, Bright India's realms to gain, Let nothing then remind us Of them and home again ; Close luff 'd with well-set sails, lads, We still our course will steer, And beaten back by adverse gales, lads, Cry ' Thus, boys, and so near.' Who cares for mocking billows, Or demons of the deep ? One half sleep on our pillows, While t' others deck- watch keep ; Who cares for lightning's flashing, boys, Or noisy thunder's roar ? We laugh at wild spray dashing, boys, And clouds that torrents pour. The ocean is the seaman's slave, Though mutiny it may ; Our beast of burden is the wave As well by night as day ; To round the Cape we'll reckon, lads, For so our captain will'd ; Three cheers for Vanderdecken, lads, His vow shall be fulfill'd." " Yaw — yaw," cried the crew, " we'll round the Cape yet. Brink, boys, drink — three cheers for Vanderdecken ! Well caulk the old ship ; we'll repair our old sail ; we'll mend our old clothes ; we'll darn our old stockings, and then to sea again. Hurrah ! — hurrah ! " |g Thus did they continue to drink and carouse until, if they had had any eyes left in their head, they never could have seen visually ; but ghosts see mentally, and in the midst of their mirth and jollity, they saw some tall objects coming down gradually and peeping over the rocks, probably attracted by the fiddle of Dirk Spattrel. " The natives !" — cried Jansen, " the natives ! — now, my men, recol- lect the captain's orders — don't be rude to the women." " Yaw — nein — yaw !" replied the reeling spectres ; u oh, nein, but well get them down here and have a dance ; that's civility all over the world." " But I say," hiccupped Spielman, " what rum beggars these islanders be ! only look, they are coming down to us, all of their own accord ! " This was true enough ; a herd of kangaroos, attracted by the sound of the music, but of course not able to distinguish the spectre seamen, who, like all others of a similar nature, were invisible to mortal and to kan- garoo eyes, had come down fearlessly to the foot of the rock where the crew were carousing. r FIRST DISCOVERY OP VAN DEMONS LAND. 109 The Dutchmen had never seen an animal so tall which stood erect like a man, and they were all very drunk ; it is not therefore surprising that they mistook the kangaroos for natives clothed in skins, and as the broadest part of their dress was down on the ground, of course they fancied they were the women belonging to the island. " Strike up, Dirk Spattrel," cried Jansen, taking hold of the paws of one of the kangaroos. " Wei sie valtz, Frauleinf 1 The kangaroo started back, although it saw nothing, and of course said nothing. " Don't be shamming modest, Fraulein. Now then, strike up, Dirk f and Jansen passed his arm round the kangaroo, which appeared very much alarmed, but, seeing nothing, did not hop away. The rest of the seamen seized the other kangaroos by the paws or round the body, and in a short time such a dance was seen as never took place before. Some of the kangaroos stood upon their thick tails and kicked at their invisible partners with their hind feet, so as to send their ghostships many yards distant ; others hopped and jumped in their fright many feet from the ground, taking their partners with them ; others struggled violently to disengage themselves from their unseen assailants. Shouts, laughter, and shrieks resounded from the drunken crew at this strange junketting; at last, in their struggling to^ detain the animals, and the attempts of the 110 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK's OMNIBUS. frightened kangaroos to escape, the Dutchmen found themselves all mounted on the backs of the kangaroos, who, frightened out of their senses, bounded away in every direction. Thus did the ball break up, every kangaroo carrying off its partner in a different direction. Dirk Spattrel was the only one left, but there was a kangaroo also unemployed ; determined not to be left behind, the fiddler jumped on its back, and clinging fast by his legs, commenced such a furious screeching upon his instrument that the animal made a bound of nearly forty yards every time, Dirk Spattrel playing on like one possessed, until he had not only gained, but was far in advance of his brother riders. Away they all went over hill and dale, the fiddle still shrieking in advance, until the ex- hausted animals fell down panting, and the Dutchmen, tired with their own exertions, and overcome with liquor, dropped asleep where they fell, — for ghosts do sleep as well as mortal men. The next morning there was no one on board at eight o'clock, and Van- derdecken was full of wrath. At last Dirk Spattrel, the fiddler, made his appearance with the remains of his instrument in his hand. " Donder und vind — where are the crew ? 11 cried Vanderdecken. " All gone off with the natives, 1 '' replied the fiddler. " I thought as much," roared Vanderdecken, " and now I'll give you something for your good news. 1 ' Vanderdecken seized the end of the fore- brace and commenced a most furious attack upon the shoulders of Dirk Spattrel. The blows were given with great apparent force, but there was no sound, it was like buffeting a bag of wind ; notwithstanding Dirk worked round and round, twisting and wincing, and crying, "Ah, yaw, ah!" " Take that, scoundrel ! " cried Vanderdecken, as much out of breath as a ghost could be. " They're coming off now, captain," said Dirk Spattrel, rubbing his shoulders. Jansen and the rest of the crew now made their appearance, looking very sheepish. " Where have you been, scoundrels ? v> " Mynheer Vanderdecken, 1 *' replied Jansen, " the island is peopled with ghosts and goblins, and demons and devils ; one of them seized upon each of us and carried us off the Lord knows where. 11 " Fools ! — do you believe in such nonsense as ghosts and spectres ? " replied Vanderdecken, " or do you think me such an ass as to credit you ? Who ever saw a ghost or spectre ! Stuff, Jansen, stuff — you ought to be ashamed of yourself. 11 " It's all true, captain ; they came down and ran away with us. Is^it not so, men?" " Yaw, yaw," said the crew, " it's all true, Captain Vanderdecken ; they leaped with us as high as the moon." " Much higher," cried Dirk Spattrel. " You're a parcel of lying drunken dogs," roared Vanderdecken; " I stop all your leaves — you sha'nt go on shore again." " We don't want," replied Jansen, " we will never go on shore at such FIRST DISCOVERY OF VAN DEMONS LAND. Ill a place — full of devils — it is really Van Demon's Land ; — we will have the fiddle on the forecastle." " Nein," replied Dirk Spattrel, mournfully showing the fragments. " De tyfeV 1 exclaimed Jansen, " dat is the worst of all ; — now, men, we will work hard and get away from this horrid place." " Yaw, yaw," exclaimed the crew. They did work hard ; the sails were repaired, the ship was caulked, their clothes were mended, their stockings were darned, and all was ready. The wind blew fiercely from off shore, roaring through the woods, and breaking down heavy branches. Vanderdecken held his hand up — " I think there is a light air coming off the land, Jansen — Man the capstan." " Only a cat's paw ; it will not fill our sails, Captain Vanderdecken," replied the mate. The gale increased until it was at the height of its fury. The lightning flashed, the thunder roared, and the rain came down in torrents. The wind howled in its rage. " I think we shall have a light pleasant breeze soon," said Vander- decken. Heave round, my lads, a little more of it and we shall do. Hoist blue Peter and fire a gun." A colourless flag, thin as a cobweb, went to the mast-head ; the match was applied to the gun, which was so honey- combed and worn out, that the smoke came out of it in every direction as if it had been a sieve. The anchor was hove up by the spectre crew ; the sails were set, and once more the phantom-ship was under weigh, once more bounding through the waves to regain her position, and fulfil her everlasting doom. And as she flew before the hurricane, the crew, gathered together on the forecastle, broke out in the following chorus : — Away, away ! once more away, To beat about by night and day ; With joy, the Demons' land we leave, Again the mountain waves to cleave. With a Ha— Ha— Ha ! Once more the stormy Cape we'll view, Again our fearless toil pursue ; Defy the spirits of the air, Who scoffing bid us to despair. With their Yaw— Yaw— Yaw ! Ha— Ha— Ha ! 112 FRANK HEARTWELL; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. BY BOWMAN TILLER. CHAPTER V. Ben Brailsford lost not a moment in raising the insensible Frank in his arms, and was about to quit the ground, when he caught sight of the prostrate lieutenant, who now began to recover something like con- sciousness. He hesitated to depart, and that hesitation was fatal to their freedom, for the enemy had rallied, and receiving a strong reinforcement, became in turn the assailants. The allies were beaten back, and in a few minutes Ben and his young charge were prisoners of war under the guard of the very soldier who had so shortly before been defeated by the seaman. In their progress to the rear they stopped at a dilapidated house near Alcoule, which was occupied as an hospital, and Frank's wound, which was not very serious, was dressed by a surgeon, and the youth recovered. In the same apartment were several wounded officers, amongst whom were General O'Hara and the man who subsequently ruled the destinies of France — Napoleon Buonaparte. But the young midshipman and his gallant protector were not suffered to remain ; they were placed with a number of other prisoners under an escort, and proceeded on towards Paris. At Louviers they were joined by another detachment from Toulon, and amongst them was their old acquaintance Sambo. But the negro was not a prisoner : with the cunning of his race, he had no sooner been captured than he declared himself the servant of Monsieur Polverel, and that being forced into the English service, he was endeavouring to escape. His story was not at first credited ; but being recognised by the younger Robespierre (then acting as the chief of the commissariat before Toulon), who had seen him in Paris, he was released. A plausible tale deceived the Frenchman, and Sambo was sent round to join his master. Ben hailed the black with great glee, and Frank addressed him, expressing regret at his capture ; but the wary negro pretended not to know them, though when they halted for the night, he found means to supply them with provisions, and clean straw to sleep upon. At length they entered Paris, and were met by a revolutionary mob which had just been witnessing the feeding of the guillotine with victims from their own body. The appearance of the prisoners was hailed with loud shouts, and numbers of both sexes rushed forward to wreak their still unsatiated vengeance. Sambo had stood aloof; but when he saw the extreme danger which his old friends were in, he joined them, fully determined to afford all the protection in his power. The sight of a black seemed to awaken a still greater degree of excitement amongst the rabble, especially as the negro by his position manifested opposition to their designs. Yells and shouts arose. " A bas les noirs ! " " a la lanterne ! " " a la place de Greve ! " " let us see what colour his blood is ! " " an experiment ! an experiment ! " *' away with him to the guillotine ! " " we have had no negro yet ! an experiment ! an experiment ! " A desperate rush was made upon them, and both Sambo and the young midshipman were separated from the rest and borne away by the mob. r FRANK HEART WELL; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. 113 It was perhaps well for Frank that he had been plundered of his uni- form soon after his capture ; for such was the demoniac hatred of the English, that, as an officer, he probably might have been torn to pieces. The negro addressed them in their own language, announcing himself a native of San Domingo, employed by Monsieur Polverel, but his voice was drowned in the universal outcry, and then he joined in their shouts of " Vive la Nation ! " sung snatches of revolutionary songs, danced as they danced, and tried by every means to appease their fury. But the wretches wanted to see a black man die ; it promised a new sensation. The mob approached the Hotel de Ville, when their progress was arrested by a tall man who was supported on a post that elevated him so as to be distinctly conspicuous to all. His dress was shabby in the ex- treme, and on his head he wore the revolutionary cap, but both Frank and the negro instantly recognised Monsieur Polverel. He spoke to the rabble, and in a vehement address that drew down loud applause he approved of their excesses, whilst the mob, to show that they had fresh victims to immolate, thrust forward the negro and the youth, so that he might see them. Polverel instantly descended, and, rushing amongst the throng, clasped the negro in his arms. " What do you ?" exclaimed he ; " in your just fury the eye of reason is dimmed — is he not a man and a brother ?" and again he embraced him, to the great surprise of the black. " Cease, my friends," continued Pol- verel; " know ye not that deputies have arrived from San Domingo to sit in the great council of the nation ? This is one of them ; I am a member of the Society of ' Les Amis des Noirs,' and know him well." He turned to Sambo, " Pardon, citizen deputy, the zeal of the people." He took the arm of the astonished negro, and pinching it most unmercifully, shouted " Yive le peuple, vive la nation ;" the impressive hint was not lost, for Sambo's voice rose high in chorus. In an instant the scene was changed, the merciless wretches were diverted from their purpose, and the negro whom they would have mur- dered in pastime but for this fortunate intervention was raised upon the shoulders of two stout men and greeted with cheers of welcome ; they bore him along to the Hotel de Ville. In his joy for deliverance Sambo forgot his young master, but it was only for the moment ; and in turning to look for him, he saw that Monsieur Polverel had taken him under his protection, and was leading him away from the throng ; for the French- man had not forgotten the obligation he was under to Frank for saving him from the fury of an English mob ; he withdrew him cautiously from the dangerous company he was in, and placing the youth under the charge of a friend, followed the rabble in order to perfect the rescue of his servant. The person to whose care Frank was entrusted was an elderly man apparently verging upon sixty years of age, but there was a keenness in his eye and a vivacity in his manner that manifested an active and intel- ligent mind ; his dress was slovenly, but he wore a handsome tri-color sash round his loins, and carried a red cap in his hand. At first he spoke to Frank in French, but something occurring to displease him, he broke out into broad English, and muttered his anathemas against the cause. NO. IV. — VOL. I. I 114 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK's OMNIBUS. " You are an Englishman, then," said Frank, with symptoms of dis- gust which did not escape the other's notice. " Thou art right," returned the man ; " I am an Englishman by birth, but a citizen of the world — a friend to the whole human race on the principles of universal liberty. Expatriated and driven from my country, this noble and eulightened nation has adopted me ; and here in brotherly affection I can carry out into practice my theory of the rights of man. What is life, my young friend, without the blessings of freedom !" At this moment a municipal officer, attended by three or four subordi- nates, stepped up to Frank's companion, and, grasping him by the arm, uttered " Citizen Paine, you are our prisoner." " By whose authority ? " demanded the Englishman, his face assuming a deadly paleness. " The authority is here," returned the officer, showing a paper with the signature of Robespierre attached to it, and, a fiacre immediately stopping by their side, citizen Paine was hurried into it and driven off to the Luxembourg, where, in the chamber which had been occupied by many a victim to the revolutionary mania, he contemplated the paternal regard of the nation that had adopted him, and sighed for the blessing of that freedom of which he had so vainly boasted. He had sat in judgment on the mock trial of the unfortunate Louis, but had given his vote against the monarch's death. This had rendered the ambitious dictator his enemy, and an opportunity was soon sought to take his life. The egotistical boasting of Thomas Paine afforded a pretext for arresting him ; he was sent to prison, and would have been sacrificed by "his friends" but for an accident which saved him. Frank, hungry and thirsty, destitute of money, and but with few rags to cover him, now stood alone in one of the by-streets of Paris. As evening came on, he crept into the cellar-way of an uninhabited house. At daylight he emerged from his concealment, and proceeded in the same direction in which he had been going when parted from his guide. It was yet early when, on turning a corner, he beheld a well-looking young man, accompanied by a stout Amazonian female, who were hurrying for- ward, but, on seeing the youth, suddenly stopped, and Frank felt his arm grasped by the woman, whilst a chuckle of delight escaped from the young man, who uttered in a whisper — " Yah no for peak-a me, Massa Frank, hearee ? Dere him, massa, for me behind — tan lilly bit become for you." Frank stared with astonishment — the voice was that of Sambo, but the skin was fair. " How — what is this?" demanded he. " Oh, it's all ship-shape enough, Master Frank," said the woman in a masculine tone, and hitching up her petticoats in true nautical style. " I'm bless'd, young gentleman, but you do shake a cloth or two in the wind — but there, what's the odds so as you're happy? Mountseer Pul- thebell is coming up astarn, and a precious cruise they've had arter you." "Yah no for tand palaver here, Missy Ben," muttered Sambo, with a grin of mirth. " Golly me black deputy now, and dem debbil take off white head at 'em gullemtine, no sabby de citizen nigger," and he pushed forward with his companion. FRANK HEART WELL; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. 115 In spite of all his mishaps Frank could not refrain from laughing at the awkwardness of the pretended female, who straddled along with swinging arms, the petticoats evidently embarrassing the wearer. In a few minutes the youth was joined by Monsieur Polverel, who cautioned him to preserve silence and follow his movements. Shortly afterwards he stopped before the entrance of a mean-looking building, and knocking at the door, was immediately admitted. Frank followed, and was ushered into an apartment poorly furnished, where he found Sambo and the seaman, and learned that Polverel, by means of his influence and some little intrigue, had procured Ben's release, and disguised in woman's clothes, under the guidance of Sambo, whose face was concealed beneath a mask, had got him clear away from present danger. Refreshment was ordered, and Polverel led Frank through the house to some back premises, where the apartments were fitted up in the most elegant style, everything displaying an air of luxury which strongly con- trasted with the appearance of the front building, which served as a blind to the populace, who had declared a lasting enmity to all things beyond their own sphere of enjoyment, though themselves were the principal sufferers through the want of demand for their manufactures and the con- sequent stoppage of industrious labour. Here Frank and Ben remained, and Polverel renewed his attempts to undermine the youth's loyalty ; he took him with him to the clubs ; offers of lucrative appointments were made, powerful inducements were held out, but all were firmly rejected. He loved his country too well to swerve from his allegiance ; his heart yearned to see his mother once again ; but had there not been these incentives, the horrible atrocities lie had witnessed were too deeply impressed upon his mind to permit a willing companion- ship with the wretches who perpetrated and sanctioned them. In his evening excursions Trank had frequently encountered a tall man "whose features were familiar to him, and more than once or twice he had observed him enter the house of Monsieur Polverel. An indefinable curiosity induced him to watch this man, and being on one occasion in a remote part of the room, when he and the deputy came in, he remained perfectly still and undiscovered, and was not long in ascertaining by their conversation that the stranger was an Englishman in the pay of the Jacobins, and had brought over some important intelligence relative to the designs of the English government, which he was now in a traitorous manner betraying to the enemy. Frank scarcely suppressed an indignant exclamation, but fortunately he did suppress it, and rose to quit the room. This was the first in- timation they had of his presence, and as he passed the spy the youth looked boldly in his face. Iu an instant the man's countenance underwent a change; there was the peculiar rolling of the eye which Frank had never forgotten, and lawyer Brady was revealed before him. The young midshipman now resolved to attempt an escape, and Pol- verel finding that all his endeavours to detain him were useless, at last furnished him with the means. Stores were about to be forwarded to the Army of the North, and it was proposed that the seaman and his young officer should accompany them ; the former habited as a Dutchwoman, i2 116 GEORGE CRUIKSHANKS OMNIBUS. the latter as a volunteer, taking their chance to slip away wherever and whenever they could ; but the very night these arrangements were com- pleted, Polverel was seized by order of his friend, Robespierre, a sham trial was hurried over, and the next day he was consigned to the guillotine. Frank did not delay another instant (for he was aware that the pro- perty of the deputy would be plundered by the populace), and being provided with the papers furnished by Polverel. set out on his journey, accompanied by Ben in short petticoats, wooden shoes, and a large hat ; his whiskers were shaved off, but he would not part with his tail, and it was therefore braided up round his head, and a fine buxom vrow he made. Sambo had no inducement to remain behind ; so securing what money he could find, and taking his fiddle, he joined his young master, and all three proceeded on their way. The stores for the army were not ready, and they, therefore, resolved to travel as u independent" characters. In the evening they stopped at a small village, about thirty miles from Paris, and entering the kitchen of a cabaret, they ordered supper; but finding they were objects of notice, Frank directed Sambo to tune his violin, and he chanted forth a chansonette with much taste and feeling, to the great gratification of several young demoiselles, who honoured the performance with applause, and pronounced it " bien bon !" Sambo next struck up a lively tune, and footing it first to one and then to another, the company caught up the humour, and to dancing they went with great glee. Frank, selecting a pretty little girl for a partner, joined in the sport ; and Ben, in short, quilted, red petticoats, nearly up to his knees — his stout sustainers covered with blue worsted stockings and heavy sabots — with a tight-fitting woman's jacket and red necker- chief as a body-dress, and his pipe raised in the air, footed it merrily enough to Sambo and his violin. Frank, in a jacket with silver lace on the collar and cuffs, and diminutive worsted epaulettes on the shoulders — striped gingham trousers, and a tri-color sash round his loins, wheeled with grace and agility through the mazy figures with his beautiful little partner. She was tastefully arrayed in a white frock, embroidered with flowers, (for it was the festival of her tutelar saint,) and her hair was wreathed with vine-leaves, jasmine, and roses. Several young females, who had come to visit her on the occasion, were clad in their best attire, and, as a matter of course, the youths of the neighbourhood had joined them after their day's labour ; and now they were all in motion, till dark night put an end to the revelry; and the trio, accommodated in a barn, soon forgot their cares and their pleasures in sweet, refreshing sleep. The next morning the three quitted the cabaret — at the door they were accosted by a gendarme ; but the youth told his ready tale, showed his papers, and they received no further molestation. Numerous were their adventures as they progressed — sometimes in extreme danger of detection — at others, enjoying themselves in perfect confidence. Two days they passed in the woods without food, journeying only by night. At length they abandoned the direct road, and kept away to the left for the coast ; hoping to reach some place in the neighbourhood of Blank- enberg, a fishing village on the sea-shore. This they accomplished, and arrived about midnight on the beach, which they crept along, at some >%////■, « &m, ,///,/. A///'/,,; ,/'■:us rogueries are seldom those which succeed best. The deep-laid scheme will often explode of itself; the right hand that never lost its cunning will some- times miss its reward ; the genius of knavery will walk barefoot, with an appetite as keen as itself ; while the common bungler, the blundering rascal, the scoundrel who is idiot also, shall succeed in all his stupid, shallow, contemptible designs, and I OMNIBUS CHAT. 125 ride home to dinner quite convinced that, though not strictly honest, he is astonish- ingly clever, or talented— for that is, in these cases, the more orthodox word. Jt is not the most skilful burglar that safely worms his way to the butler's pantry, or insinuates with most success his hand into the plate-chest ; nor is it the most dexterous picker of pockets who is permitted longest to ply his art, or earliest retires upon a Pelion of purses piled upon an Ossa of bandannas. The blockheads in this, as in some other professions, often carry off the palm, f Whom the gods love die young." The thief of high and cultivated talent, the swindler of fine taste and exquisite discernment, is frequently destined to suffer early the fate which considerably later overtakes the fool. Somehow the world does not do justice even to its rogues. It refuses to be taken in by the profound rascal, while it readily falls a victim to the veriest dunce in the great School for Scoundrels. While we see so many expert horsemen breaking the necks of their nags, or throwing involuntary summersets ; — while we observe how extremely careful, and how eminently well skilled, is every captain of every steamer that happens to figure in a horrible collision in broad day-light ; — while we are called upon to bear witness to the excessive caution and singular scientific proficiency of every soul associated with a railway ; and have to notice besides that all their care, and all their science, has invariably been exercised whenever a frightful accident may have happened upon their beat; — these failures of roguish talent, and misfortunes of accomplished knavery, cease to be peculiarly wonderful. This remark has been suggested by observing the signal failure of a rather ingenious device, put forth in the form of an advertisement in some of the daily papers. It is an invitation to everybody who may chance to possess iC unstamped receipts" for sums above £5, to communicate with the advertiser, who is, of course, to reward the production of such documents ! Any simple person would suppose — as there are very droll specimens of collectors yet alive — more curious by far than any of the curiosities they collect — collectors of turnpike tickets, and of complete sets of checks for readmission to the Opera for eleven successive seasons ! — that here was a gentleman who had taken a fancy for collecting a perfect set of un- stamped receipts from the year 1800 to the present time. A little reflection, however, would show that his object might be to lay informations against the parties who had signed them. The design has been penetrated into still further; for it appears that all parties showing such receipts put themselves in the power of the advertiser, as being equally liable with the signers for accepting them unstamped ! Yes, we are bound to say that here was considerable ingenuity exercised. Here was a stone flung that seemed sure to kill two birds. 1 he possessor of such a document was more than likely to be tempted to show it, by the reward of one sovereign ; which the other party could well afford to pay out of the many sove- reigns extracted in the shape of penalty from the said producer's pocket — to say nothing of the same amount drawn from the signer of the receipt. Since the coaxing cry of " Biddy, come and be killed" was first raised, no more seductive snare has been conceived. " I have assembled you," said the considerate proprietor of live stock in the story, " I have assembled you, my pretty birds, to learn from you what sauce you would like to be eaten with." " But we don't want to be eaten," said the birds with one voice. " You wander from the point," was the answer. So, perhaps, would the collector of unstamped receipts have said to the producers. Ci I have a £ sembled you here to know what you would like to pay me in lieu of the penalty you have incurred." " But we don't want to pay any penalty." " You wander from the point." We have all heard the most scandalous and groundless stories about lawyers; — of opinions delivered concerning the genuineness of a half sovereign, followed by the deduction of six-and-eightpence for the advice ; — of thirteen-and fourpence charged for " attending, consulting, and advising," when the occasion was a splendid dinner given by the client — followed by a demand on the angry client's part for wine had and consumed — and this succeeded in turn by an information against the said client for selling wine without a licence. These, and a thousand such libels, we can all remember ; but the reality above recorded is at least as striking as the most ingenious of such fictions. 126 GEORGE CRUIKSHANKS OMNIBUS. To contrast with the non-success of this wily experiment upon a grand scale, we may cite an instance of equal ingenuity, exercised in a much humbler walk, and taking the form of knavery in its mixed character. We distinctly remember it to have happened. The scene may be a seaport, or the banks of the Thames below bridge. A seaman, bearing a huge stone bottle, applies at the Nelson's Head for a gallon of whisky for Captain Hope of the Matilda, lying off shore — to fill up the bottle already half full. The spirit is duly poured in, and the cash demanded. "Oh! the capp'n said nothen about that" — the whisky was to be added to his account, and that was all he knew. But "mine host" did not know the captain well enough, and couldn't let the whisky go. The gallon was there- fore poured back again into the landlord's measure, and set aside to be called for. So far there appeared to be no knavery at all ; but the spirit so poured back, presently turned out to be, not whisky, but excellent one-water grog ; for the two- gallon bottle of the sailor contained exactly one gallon of pure water when it was brought in, and one gallon of pure whisky and water when it was taken out. The means in this, as in myriads of cases, are curiously disproportioned to the end. How miserably poor is the prize, considered in reference to the risk ; to the cleverness in the invention of the stratagem ; to the address demanded for the due execution of it, to the time consumed, the trouble taken, the agencies employed ! But the truth is, that the very cleverest rascals are rarely more than half-cunning. The ablest of knaves must be at best half a blockhead. When we remember how the great Bardolph, having stolen a lute-case, " carried it twelve miles and sold it for three half-pence," the perilous, profitless, toilsome, half-witted nature of roguery needs no illustration. One would like to have seen him walking back, thirsty and way-wearied, under a broiling sun, and never sure but that the lady who once owned the lute-case might be walking that way too ! That famous exploit of Master Bardolph's ought to be registered in large letters over every judgment-seat, and on the door of every police-office. The record would save much judicial breath, and supersede volumes of admonition. Shakspeare's illustrations of Vice might possibly have led us into a dissertation at least as long upon Shakspeare's illustrations of Virtue, but that the learned Dr. Bulgardo here honoured our humble vehicle with his presence, and called general attention to a contrast equally striking, under the following title: — THE SISTER SCIENCES ; or, BOTANY AND HORTICULTURE. By Dr. BULGARDO, L. S. D., Treasurer of several Learned Societies, and Professor of Asparagus at the University of Battersea. BOTANY. TO MARY, WITH A BUNCH OF FLOWERS- Nay ! say not faded — 'tis despair Has thus subdued them, for they see That in themselves however fair, They ne'er can hope to equal thee ! The Rose's joyous blush has fled, With which no other lip could vie ; The Heartsease turns aside its head, Fearing to meet thy deep-blue eye. "More sad the Myrtle's hue appears, The Jasmine's silver star is dim ; Surpass'd by thee, thou seest the tears That tremble on the Harebell's brim. The Woodland Lily's silver cup Was never seen to droop as now, It dares not lift its flowerets up To gaze upon thy gentle brow. How canst thou look thus calmly on, And watch them slowly die the while ? Recal them yet, ere life be gone, Enchantress, with thy sunny smile ! HORTICULTURE. TO MOLLY, WITH A BASKET OF FRUIT AND VEGETABLES. Nay ! say not shrivell'd — 'tis despair Has thus subdued them, for they see That in themselves however fair, They'll ne'er be relish'd, love, like thee ! A deeper blush the Raspberry paints, Pale is the ruddy Beetroot's lip ; And e'en the red-cheek'd Apple faints, As though it suffer'd from the pip. Severely frown the Baking Pears ; The Artichoke's bold crest is down ; The awe-struck Medlar wildly stares To see thy cheek a swarthier brown. The icy Cucumber is hot, The freckled Cauliflower wan ; The Mushroom has no longer got A single leg to stand upon ! See how the rich, round-shoulder'd Figs Bow to thy figure's graceful swell ; The sobbing Orange bursts its pigs To find thee such a Nonpareil ! OMNIBUS CHAT. 127 The Sister Sciences, female Siamese twins, having vanished from the scene, our correspondent, Mr. H. G. Adams, presented a second specimen of his curious PHOTOGENIC PICTURES: A SCENE NEAR FOLKSTONE. [Folkstone was made, says tradition, of the '* odds and end3*' left after the rest of the world was finished ; and any one who has visited that jumble of heights and hollows, becomes impressed with the conviction that tradition sometimes speaks the truth.] Some weather-beaten men with clothes all tar-ry, Keeping a sharp look-out upon the ocean, And little Tom, and Jack, and Bill, and Harry, Making upon the beach a dire commotion, — Dabbling, like dab-chicks, in the billows briny, Hunting for crabs, and other things crustaceous, While a Newfoundland dog, in sport called " Tiny," Wags his huge bushy tail, and looks sagacious : Here wades a shrimper to his waist in water, There swims a bather, snorting like a grampus ; And lo ! James Muddle, with his wife and daughter, All in a boat, and crying out, " Don't swamp us ! " Far in the offing you may see a cutter, Her white sails gleaming like the sea-gull's pinions, — She means to overhaul that craft, with butter Laden, and cheese, from swampy Scheldt's dominions; I shouldn't wonder if Schiedam — however, That's not my business ; — turn our glances landward, There's Farley in his garden — well, I never ! — A-talking down the chimney, to my landlord ; He says, '* I see you've got some greens for dinner, " And pickled pork," but can't say more for coughing ; That smoke just serves him right — the prying sinner! He's always jeering folks, and at them scoffing : White cliffs, and houses, underneath and over, And roads that seem to lead to regions airy — Old boats converted into roofs, that cover Buildings, in shape and size that greatly vary, Denote the place, which popular believings Point out as being made of ends and leavings. Here we were reminded by a particularly ample, and unprecedentedly flaring wood-cut, borne on an appropriate pole past the vehicle, and intended to describe the indescribable effects of the fire-works in the Surrey Zoological Gardens, of a pleasant discourse which we overheard in that suburban retreat. " Quite a gem," cried a lady from Portland Place, contemplating the splendid pictorial model of Rome; "really quite a monument of the artist's abilities." u I see St. Pauls," said a lady from Shadwell, who was standing by, looking at the same time at the crowning feature of the picture, " I see St. Paul's quite plain, but where s the Monument ?" " How those butcher-boys do ride !" exclaimed an elderly gentleman in the further corner, as one of the blue-frocked fraternity, with basket on arm, and " spur on heel," dashed past at headlong speed. " Ay, sir, they ride sharp enough," replied his next neighbour, whose bronzed features and brawny shoulders bespoke him a son of old Ocean ; "but of all the rough-riding I have ever seen, nothing comes up to A NEGRO BOY IN THE WEST INDIES. The negro boys there are the most cunning imps I have ever had to do with. I recollect on my last voyage to Jamaica, while my vessel was lying in St. Anne's bay, I had to go to Port Maria to look for some cargo ; and on my way thither, near Ora Cabeca, I came to one of the numerous small rivers that empty them- selves into the little bays along the coast — I think it was the Salt Gut. When at some distance, I had observed a negro boy belabouring a mule most heartily ; but 128 GEORGE CRUIKSHANKS OMNIBUS, before I got up he had le r t off his thumping and dismounted, and now "appeared in earnest talk with his beast, which, with fore-legs stretched out firm, and ears laid down, seemed proof against all arguments to induce him to enter the water. Quashie was all animation, and his eyes flashed like fire-flies. " Who — o ! you no go ober ? Berry well — me bet you fipenny me make you go — No? Why for you no bet? — why for you no go ober?' Here the mule shook his ears to drive off the flies, which almost devour the poor animals in that climate. u Oh ! you do bet — berry well — den me try." The young rascal (he was not more than ten years old) disappeared in the bush, and returned in a few seconds with some strips of fan-weed, a few small pebbles, and a branch of the cactus plant. To put three or four pebbles in each of the mule's ears, and tie them up with the fan-weed, was but the work of a minute. He then jumped on the animal's back, turned round, put the plant to his tail, and off they went, as a negro himself would say, " like mad, massa." Into the water they plunged — the little fellow grinning and showing his teeth in perfect ecstasy. Out they got on the other side — head and ears down — tail and heels up — and the boy's arms flying about as if they did not belong to him ; and I lost sight of him as he went over the rocky steep at full gallop, where one false step would have precipitated them into the sea beneath, from whence there would have been but small chance of escape. No, no, a butcher's boy is nothing to a negro boy — the one may ride like the deuce, but the other is the very deuce himself riding. " Did you see any more of him, sir?" inquired a young lady opposite. "Yes, madam, about two hours afterwards I reached Port Maria, and in an open space near the stores, there sat, or rather lay, young Quashie eating cakes ; and there also stood the mule, eating guinea grass, and looking much more cheerful than when 1 first saw him at the Salt Gut. ' Well, Quashie,' I said, ' you have got here I see, but which of you won ?' — ' Quashie win, massa — Quashie never lose.' — ' But will he pay ?' I inquired. — ' Quashie pay himself, massa. You see, Massa Buccra, massa gib Quashie tenpenny-bit for grass for mule. Quashie bet flppenny him make him go ober de Gut— Quashie win — Quashie hab flppenny for cake, mule hab flppenny for grass/" " Had that defrauded mule, sir," here interposed a stranger, " been born in Ireland a brief while ago, he would have fallen to and devoured the young nigger out of hand, for cheating him of half his grass ; that is, he would, if he had ever read the ancient records of that country, and become acquainted with the fact I am about to relate — but stay, perhaps you may relish it better in slip-shod verse/' THE TERRIFIC LEGEND OF THE KILKENNY CATS. O'Flyn she was an Irishman, as very well was known, And she lived down by Kilkenny, and she lived there all alone, With only six great large tom-cats as knew their ways about, And ev'ry body else besides she scrup'lously shut out. Oh, very fond o' cats was she — (and whisky too, 'tis said,) She didn't feed 'ero very much, but she comb'd 'em well instead ; As may be guess'd, these large tom-cats, they didn't get very sleek Upon a combing once a-day, and a " ha'porth" once a-week. Now on one dreary winter's night, O'Flyn she went to bed, The whisky-bottle under her arm, (the whisky in her head,) The six great large tom-cats they sat all in a dismal row, And horridly glared their hungry eyes — their tails wagg'd to and fro At last one grim greymalkin spoke in accents dire to tell, And dreadful were the words which in his awful whisper fell- When all the other five tom-cats in answer loud did squall, " Let's kill her— and let's eat her— body and bones and all ! " Oh horrible ! oh terrible ! oh deadly tale to tell ! When the sun shone in the window-hole all there seem'd still and well ; The cats they sat and lick'd their paws, all in a merry ring, But nothing else within the place looked like a living thing ; Anon they quarrell'd savagely, and spit, and swore, and hollo'd, Till at last these six great large tom-cats they one another swallow'd ; And nought but one long tail was left in that once peaceful dwelling, And a very tough one too it was — it's the same as I've been telling. [C. B.j • ■ ' &£'J%ZU# C?%Lztl VI act QlVf 129 MADEMOISELLE RACHEL. Colley Cibber is the best theatrical critic we know, but if he had been asked to describe Rachel, we should fancy him falling into one of his old regrets. ' Could how Rachel spoke be as easily known as what she spoke, then might you see the muse of Racine in her triumph, with all her beauties in their best array, rising into real life and charming her beholder«. But, alas ! since all this is so far out of the reach of description, how shall I show you Rachel V The best attempt we have been able to make, is printed on the opposite page. Truth to say, a good portrait, such as one may bind up with one's copy of Racine, is the only tolerable criticism after all. So, gentle reader, there is Rachel for you: and to flatter your national likings, if you have any, she is in the dress of Mary Stuart, though the woes of Mary Stuart are not in Racine, Quiet, earnest, intense, with a look of passion that has its spring in tenderness, that is just the expression she should wear. It pervaded all her performances, be- cause in all of them she was the Woman. There it was, as you see it, when she said for this unhappy Mary that she was ready to go to death, for that all which could bind her to the earth had passed away ; and as she said it, there came with its choking denial to her heart a sense of the still living capacity for joy or grief about to be quenched for ever. She wore that look, when, in Camille, she recalled the transient and deceitful dream wherein everything had spoken of her lover, and whispered happy issue to her love. It spread its mournful radiance over her face, when, for the wronged and deserted Hermione, she told the betrayer that she had loved him in his inconstancy, and with what something surpassing love would she have rewarded his fidelity. Je t'aimais inconstant ; qu'aurais-je fait fidele ! Exquisitely perfect, let us say, was that performance of Hermione. Some- times, it will not be heretical to whisper, her genius nodded or even slept: never here. The Roxune would not suffer her to do justice to her finest qualities: in the Emilie (for she was wilful) she refused herself that justice: in the Marie Stuart she was unequal : in Camille, always great undoubtedly, she had yet a very limited range : but in Hermione, she achieved a triumph of high and finished art, which will never fade from the recollections of those who witnessed it. It occurs to us, as we write, that it was in this very Hermione the famous Mademoiselle de Champmele won the heart of Racine himself, who, after the performance, flung himself at her feet in a transport of gratitude, which soon merged into love. Luckless Rachel, that Champmele should have been before- hand with her. How the poet would have shaken out love and gratitude upon her, from every curl of his full-bottomed peruke ! You have heard, no doubt, good reader — if you have not seen this accomplished Frenchwoman — that she is a scold, a fury, a womanly Kean, in a constant fret of passion. Do not believe it. Her forte is tenderness : she is much greater in the gentle grasp with which she embraces the whole intention of a part, than in the force with which she gives distinct hits : she is more at home in those emotions we call domestic, than in those which walk away from home on very lofty stilts. How the false notion obtained currency, we do" not know. The French critics are men of lively imaginations, and it was perhaps natural that the feeling of that start of surprise with which Rachel broke upon them, should seek to ally itself to the occasionally sudden and terrible, the flighty and impetuous, rather than to the various tenderness and quiet truth which gave the actress her lasting victory. What Rachel was before she was the first actress of France, probably the reader knows. She sold oranges on the Boulevards. Her name was Rachel Felix— an augury of fortune. An early hankering for the stage took her to the Gymnase in 1837, where she played bad parts badly enough. Not without a gleam of something beyond, however : for Sanson the actor happened to see her there, and thought it worth while to take her into teaching. He cured her of a false accent (she was a Swiss Jewess), and brought her out at the Fkancais in 1838, upon a salary of four thousand francs. She took the audience by storm, and her four thousand went up to a hundred and fifty thousand. Long may she flourish, to deserve and to enjoy them. 130 FRIGHTS !— No. II. We now propose to turn to other illustrations of fright familiar to every family, and susceptible of description. Let us take a night-scene, con- jured up by a sudden alarm of Thieves ! Tis midnight, and " the verylhouses seem asleep," out-houses and all. The " quiet family " has attained its utmost pitch of quietness. All sleep soundly, where no sound is heard. A breathless hush pervades the domi- cile. On a sudden, there is a smart crash, a rattling sound, below. This sleeper starts up in bed ; that, darts farther under the clothes. " What's that?" is the inward question of everybody. The thought of thieves occurs to each in turn ; one is certain that the area-door has been forced open ; another is sure that the back-parlour sash has been raised. They lie still, with panting hearts, and listen. Again there is a noise ; it is like creaking footsteps on the stairs, or the opening of drawers ; then all is silent again, and then the noise is renewed. At last one little quaking Miss ventures half-stifled to whisper, " Sarah, are you*awake?" And Sarah faintly answers, " Yes, did you hear that ? " and both bury themselves in the bed, and dare not breathe. And then they hear a door open softly, and they utter a low cry of terror ; and then in another minute the door of their own room opens, and with a loud scream they start up — only to see their dear good mama with a candle in her hand ; but she is pale and frightened, and desires to know if they had made the noise — but they had not ; only they distinctly heard somebody getting in at the back-door, or the parlour- window. Then papa commands the whole assembled family " not to be frightened," and shakes dreadfully — with cold — as he looks at his blunderbuss, and avows his determination to proceed down-stairs. And then there is a " hush! " and a general listening. Yes, there is a noise still, and to the stairs he advances ; while his better-half lights his way and holds his garments tight to check his desperate enthusiasm ; and the eldest daughter hardly ventures beyond the chamber-door, but with astonishing boldness and exemplary daring springs a rattle ; and the others hold on each by each, taking fresh fright from one another's fears. What an amount of suffering, dread, terror — is in the bosom of the little quiet family, as down to the scene of danger they creep with tortoise-pace ! And what is all this anxiety, this trepidation, this sickness of the heart, for ! What has occasioned so terrific a commotion ! Perhaps the tongs have fallen down, and the clatter has filled their ears with all sorts of imaginary noises ! Perhaps the cat is clawing at a string tied to the latch of the pantry-door ; or perhaps the stupid little kitten, having got her tail into the catch of the last new patent mouse-trap, has dragged that excellent invention off the dresser, and is whisking round at intervals in a wearying and vain endeavour to extricate her unprehensile appendage ! " Dear me ! well I declare how I have been frightening myself !" cries every member of the shivering family ; and the very next night, should the very same noises again be heard, the whole frightened family would start, turn pale, quake, wonder, pant, scream, and spring rattles, exactly as before. Where Fear has once taken possession, Experience does not always make folks wise. Tk*ev€$ T FRIGIITS. 131 Let us take for another example of the daily domestic romance — THE STRANGE CAT. How vividly, among the events of our boyish days, do we remember the " strange cat" that got into the lumber-room at the top of the house! Our elder brother and ** the boy " had endeavoured to dislodge'the animal, which figured in their description as a thing of intense blackness and monstrous dimensions, with great frightful staring green eyes, horrid long claws, and such a tail ! Not " frightened of cats " were we, for we had a favourite one of our own ; but this — it trebled in magnitude and horror the wildest and most savage inhabitants of the then Exeter Change. Their own fears had magnified the " strange cat " into a monster; and then they wilfully enlarged the picture to terrify us — a feat, in which they succeeded, as we dared not go to the upper rooms alone. For two or three days this "reign'of terror" lasted; when, a favourable opportunity being watched for, the " young master " and the " young man " marched up, broom and brush in hand, to hunt out this strange secreted intruder-— the black tiger of the upper wilderness. As for our tiny self, we had ventured a part of the way up-stairs to witness the result, imagining that the enemy would make its exit by an attic window. Oh horror ! A loud knocking was heard above ; a tremendous shouting next arose, succeeded instantly by an appalling cry of " Here it comes ! " This was, shall we say enough ? — it was too much ; we turned and flew down-stairs — the last " flight " of stairs being, with the aid of the handrail, but one leap. The street door ! No, we could not open it. Against it then we set our back in an agony of fear, and uttered a cry that would have terrified a whole legion of cats. The hunters were in full cry. Down came the wild animal, followed by brooms and brushes, bounding and rattling over the stairs — a clatter that rent the roof. What saw we then ? Not a poor half-starved frightened animal leaping over the banisters to get out of our way, and to escape through the garden-door ; no, of this piteous, this actual spectacle we saw nothing, — but in its place — this! This little "tail-piece" expanded to the dimensions of a full-sized New- foundland dog, surrounded by a blaze of fire, will convey some idea of what, in the extremity of our apprehensions, we actually did see. k2 132 A SHORT CRUISE AT MARGATE. Being at Margate the other day, we strolled, in company with " The Old Sailor," down to the f Jetty," where we were accosted by the veteran Hemptage, a boatman of the old school, who, with a salute, inquired " Will you take a trip this morning, Sir ?" " Not if it blows,'' answered the Old Sailor, assuming as much as possible the look and manners of a landsman, " I have made up my mind never to go sailing if there's a breath of wind." The old man gave him a look, which spoke as plainly as look could — ovor ! Why can't they spell the name properly ? " " Oh, what does it signify?" — "Signify ! why it's my native town ! it puts me in such a passion that I can't walk ;" and by the pace at which he* went there appeared a probability of his overtaking the coach. As a man intoxicated can run easily, when walking is difficult, so a man in a passion finds similar relief. I have heard of a nervously-excited individual who was so annoyed by the cry of " Bank, Bank" all down the Strand, that he jumped into one of the vehicles, resolved to go to the Bank and draw r PASSIONATE PEOPLE. 139 out his balance ; nor did he remember, until he got there, that he had performed that ceremony the day before. "What I should respectfully recommend to any one on whom the fit comes suddenly out-of-doors, whether occasioned by some irritating train of thought, or a casual encounter equally provocative, is to go directly home, and give his family the benefit of it. Surely the best compliment he can pay his wife is to presume that her attachment to him is so great that she will endure any ill-usage — that she would rather see him return home in a tremendous passion than have him stay longer away from her. A man who truly relishes his fit of rage will find a sweet relief in making his family uncomfortable. The children he can imme- diately order up to bed in the dark ; and if anything in the shape of pro- test falls from the doting mother, he can take an opportunity, slyly, of upsetting a vase of flowers, water and all, into her work-box, or of tilting the inkstand upon the favourite autograph in her album. In the case of a single man, who has neither fond parent nor devoted partner to vent his fury on, a theatre is no bad resource ; he can take his seat in some quiet corner and hiss the performance, — he will find it very soothing to his feelings ; but he should choose, if possible, the first night of a new drama, and be constantly on his guard, or he will be tricked out of all his pleasure by the actors. I know a man who went in a great passion on purpose to hiss a new comedy, but being off his guard, he sat and laughed all the evening. Brutus desires Cassius to " go show his slaves how choleric he is, and make his bondmen tremble ;" implying that it was still more vulgar and degrading to go into a passion before servants. This notion prevails amongst a certain class of the choleric to this day. It is not at all un- common in genteel families, where appearances must at all sacrifices be kept up, for John to be desired to shut the door, and perhaps to be de- spatched to the remotest part of the house, while his master and mistress sit down to fight out a pitched battle with bated breath ; whispering their fierce retorts, and dealing out their virulence sotto voce, that it may not reach the kitchen; recrimination, with savage aspect, speaking in the blandest key, and threats of separate maintenance breathing in tones that would have added a delicious tenderness to the fondest sentiment. All of a sudden, perhaps, a violent crash is heard ; the lady, who "jcould bear it no longer," has commenced some sportive sallies with the tea-cups, and the gentleman has promptly followed in some equally lively experiments with the saucers ; and John, when in wild alarm he re-enters the apartment, perceives in an instant, as clear as crockery itself, that naughty Dash has not been jumping upon the tea-table, and that it is not that calumniated quadruped by whom the best blue-and-gold service has been devoted to destruction. All these tamperings with passion are great mistakes ; there can be no enjoyment but in speaking out, and letting all the world hear if they like. I always admired the unhesitating frankness of that respectable tradesman (I forget his name, purposely) who about nine one summer morning, after " some words " with his lady respecting the comparative merits of Souchong and Mocha, deliberately opened the first floor 140 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S OMNIBUS. window, and dashed out the whole breakfast set, tray and all, into one of the leading streets of the metropolis. People, it is said, put up their umbrellas as they pass, to this day, in constant expectation of a milky shower, with small squares of sugar for hailstones. But all such experiments with cups and saucers, glasses, vases, mirrors, &c, are much better .performed, for obvious reasons, at other people's houses than at your own. It is very pleasant, and quite pardonable, to sweep a few glasses off the table in a fit of enthusiasm, now and then — when you are dining out ; but it is perfectly ridiculous to proceed to such extremities at home, where the modes of venting rage are infinite. For a somewhat similar reason, I differ from those who systema- tically tear their own hair when they fall into a paroxysm ; there is no occasion for it, because you might happen to be wearing a wig, and the effect would be ludicrous. It is far better to thrust your hand desperately into the loose locks of somebody sitting next to you, tearing them violently for the space of an instant, and then apologizing for the wildness of your excitement, and the extreme susceptibility of your feelings. Your sensi- bility and the frankness of your disposition will find many admirers ; but to pull your own hair has at best but an affected and theatrical look. The practice common to many of the choleric — that of taking off their hats, flinging them at the first object they see, and then kicking them, regardless of expense — is one that seems to have arisen out of an in- stinctive feeling, but until lately it was to be condemned as ruinous to those who fall very frequently into a passion ; it is less exceptionable now ; the cheap hats are immense conveniences to the choleric. It is better however to snatch a friend's off his head, and set your foot upon it, taking care to pick it up immediately, tenderly putting it into shape a little, brushing its injured nap, and returning it with your unfeigned regrets. I should not omit to mention one ingenious expedient, which is sure to produce a speedy relief to over-excited feelings. It is recom- mended on authority, as infallible. You should first lock the door of your sitting-room, and then lie down on your back upon the rug before the fire — taking at the same time one of the long bell-ropes in either hand. In this position you will find a little violent pulling very pleasant. But don't leave off, merely because everybody in the house comes rattling at the door, desiring to know, not for their own, but for Heavens sake, what's the matter. Keep on tugging at both bells, until the door is broken open — you will then come-to quite comfortably. The great have some advantages over the humble, but they lack the luxury of giving a loose to rage at all seasons ; they cannot storm and rave at their own sweet will ; while the lowest creature committed to prison by the magistrate can always spring from the grasp of the consta- ble and break a window or two. This may seem a poor relief ; not so ; there is, doubtless, an exquisite satisfaction in knowing that nothing less than a large county must pay the damage. Suppose you only shatter a dozen panes, or effect other wilful injury, is there not something grand in being revenged upon Middlesex, or venting your fury on all Yorkshire ? Great or humble, Rage is sweet to all. Anger, not Love, is the univer- sal emotion. The mildest and most even-tempered man I ever met, let OUR NEW COOKS. 141 out the secret of his fiery disposition the other day, and betrayed the violent passions that sometimes seize him. Complaining of the extreme smallness of his new library, in a figurative style, at once emphatic and elegant, he said, " It isn't large enough to swing a cat in," adding, (evidently with a reference to his habits when under the influence of passion) " which is very inconvenient t " Cats are useful animals in a house. Is it doubtful, when Sir Anthony Absolute had stormed at the Captain, and the Captain in consequence had raved at Fag, and Fag in due succession had pummelled the footboy, that the footboy went forthwith and kicked the cat ? L. B. OUR NEW COOKS ! " Too many cooks" — u the proverb's something musty." "We have just had another new Cook ; but too sure I am that, like the whole tribe of Cooks that enter our family, she will never pass the boundaries of the cognomen " New Cook." All our Cooks have been new. The oldest one we have ever had, in my remembrance, was a prodigy of a month's service in our kitchen ; and although it must be confessed that, even during that period, she was twice threatened or warned by my mother, her long stay was astonishing to us all. Compared with her predecessors she was quite a fixture in the house. It would take up "too much room in the Omnibus," to detail one half of the discrepancies of our Cooks. The great Cook who circum- navigated the globe — who traversed seas remote, and explored lands unknown, found no such curiosities among the monsters of the great deep, or the uncivilized eccentrics on shore. One, as my maiden aunt delicately observes, becomes quite " inebriated" — off she goes ; another has " followers " — off she goes ; another increases her " kitchen stuff" at the expense of the fat of the meat, which she cuts off to a nicety (and my father is particularly fond of fat) — off she goes — another cannot cook a potato — off she goes ; another forms a clandestine match with the butler after a week's intimacy — off she goes — he too falling a victim and losing his place. When I say that my mother seldom looks over the first offence, I explain pretty clearly how it is that every week finds us with a new cook. On the day of their engagement my sanguine parent invariably tells us " she has found a treasure ; " a cook with such a character — never drinks — no followers — so honest — can cook anything ; — such a woman for making " made up " (sometimes called French) dishes, &c. In a few days this treasure of a cook turns out to be, without a single exception, the very worst we ever had to endure (for it rather singularly happens that each in succession is "the very worst"). — "Oh, that dreadful woman !" is the cry. She boils what she should roast, and roasts what she should boil ; she is a snuff-taker, and almost everything she cooks is supposed to savour of Lundyfoot or Prince's mixture. Off she goes before we find out a fair half of her intolerable propensities. 142 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S OMNIBUS. If it be but a chop to serve up, I like it served up in a style that I can depend upon. Underdone or overdone is of less consequence, so that I know beforehand, by experience of the cook's performances, how it will be done. But this continual succession of " treasures" subjects us to a con- tinual series of experiments. If we don't settle soon, the office, so far as our family is concerned, will be in danger of abolition. Already has my distracted mother observed, on five different occasions, each time with deeper emphasis, " I wish it were possible to do without a cook." Yesterday, when this exclamation escaped her, my father, who, excepting in a taste for fat, is a man of very philosophical notions, caught up the note, and said, doubtingly, " My dear, do you consider it to be quite necessary to have a dinner every day I" The last treasure we had only cooked our dinner on one day ! She must have been a practitioner in some wholesale cooking establishment ; cook to an ordinary on a grand scale, where dinners for a hundred and forty were daily prepared. We had to dine on cold meat for a week after she left us. You must know, that on the first day of her instal- ment in office, the butcher had been directed (we lived a few miles from town, and at a distance from any market-place) to send us a supply of animal food sufficient to last for about eight days. There were a leg of mutton — a saddle of mutton — a sirloin of beef — a round of beef, and various small nick-nacks for side dishes. Well, my dear credulous mother received the new cook as usual. She found her to be a most enormous treasure ; and she can at this day make affidavit, if necessary, that she gave her the proper directions about the dinner. On the day the circumstance I am about to relate took place, we had merely the family at dinner. On entering the dining-room, I observed my mother gently start, as her eye encountered a great number of large dishes round the table. She, however, suppressed her astonishment, took her place at the head of the table (my father never carved), said grace, and was sinking slowly into her chair as the servant raised the first cover. My mother instantly started up, exclaiming, in a tone of alarm, and with turned-up eyes, " Mercy on us ! the leg of mutton !" All eyes turned in a moment upon the uncovered mutton, and then on my agitated mother. The servant, after a pause, laid his hand on the second cover, upon which my mother had bent her looks. Up went the cover amidst curling wreaths of steam. " Good gracious ! look at the sirloin !" cried my mother. We all looked accordingly at the sirloin, but without discovering in it anything peculiarly different from other sirloins. The removal of the next cover exhibited the round of beef — another exclamation from my mother. We now all commenced staring, first, at the joints, then at my mother, and then at each other. We certainly began to think, when a fourth joint had appeared in view, that there was " something wrong." A pause ensued — my father broke it. " In the name of wonder," said he, " what's the matter ?" " O that new cook," answered my mother, with a groan. " What has she done ?" inquired my father. I A SONG OF CONTRADICTIONS. 143 " The whole weelcs marketing !" said myjnother, sinking into her chair, for she had been standing all this time. o '* Stupid woman," continued my father, " send her off immediately." " Did you ever hear of such a dreadful creature ?" said my mother. " Off she goes the first thing in the morning ;" and sure enough our new cook gave place to another new one the very next day. My chief object in taking a trip in the "Omnibus" is the hope of meeting somebody, in the course of its rounds, who may recommend to us some treasure of a cook, likely to suit my mother, and remain with her, say, for a month or two ; for this changing once a week worries the life out of me. You all know the proverb that speaks of too many cooks. How true it is in our case ! We want one, instead of a multitude. I shall not mention the name of the personage who is proverbially said to " send cooks." Perhaps we have already had a protegee or two of his among our professors ; but a cook of anybody's sending would be eagerly welcomed by me — so that she would but be a little steady, and stop ! W.S. A SONG OF CONTRADICTIONS. BY LAMAN BLANCHARD. ** I am not what I am." — I ago. The Passions, in festival meeting-, I saw seated round, in a dream ; And vow, by my hatred of cheating, The Passions are not what they seem. There's mirth under faces the gravest, There's woe under visages droll ; There's fear in the breast of the bravest, c And light in the desolate soul. Thus Joy, in my singular vision, Sat sobbing and gnashing his teeth ; While Gentleness scoff'd in derision, And Hope pick'd the buds from his wreath. Despair, her tight bodice unlacing, With laughter seem'd ready to die ; And Hate, her companions embracing, Won each with a smile or a sigh. There Peace bellow'd louder and louder, For Freedom, sent off to the hulks ; t Fear sat on a barrel of powder, And Pleasure stood by in the sulks. Here Dignity shoots like a rocket Past Grace, who is rolling in fat ; There Probity 's picking a pocket, Here Pity sits skinning a cat. Then Temperance reeling off, quite full, Charged Friendship with drugging her draught ; She vowed it was Love that was spiteful, While Charity, blaming all, laugh'd ; When Rage, with the blandest expression, And Vengeance, low-voiced like a child, Cried, " Mercy, forgive the transgression 1 " But Mercy look'd horribly wild. Old Wisdom was worshipping Fashion, And Jollity dozing in gloom ; While Meekness was foaming with passion, And Misery danced round the room. Sweet Envy tripp'd off to her garret, Bright Malice smiled worthy of trust, Gay Want was enjoying his claret, And Luxury gnaw'd a dry crust. At Pride, as she served up the dinner, Humility turn'd up her nose ; Suspicion shook hands with each sinner, While Candour shunn'd all, as her foes. There's mirth under faces the gravest, There's woe under visages droll, There's fear in the breast of the bravest, And light in the desolate soul ! 144 FRANK HEARTWELL; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. BY BOWMAN TILLER. CHAPTER VI. The agitation and distress of Mrs. Heartwell at finding that Frank did not return on the day of the ship-launch may readily be conceived — he was the only stay and hope of her heart. Suspecting the cause of his absence, she set out for the tender at the Tower ; but as it was dark night, the sentries would neither allow her to come on board nor render any information, so that she was forced to return unsatisfied. But on the following morning she was again alongside, and learned the fate of her son and the negro, who were then at some distance down the river. This, though it removed her fears for his safety, did not diminish her anxiety for his welfare, nor was it till she received the letter announcing his being placed on the quarter-deck of the Thunderbolt, seventy-four, that she felt relieved from the sickening apprehensions that had almost over- whelmed her. It was about this time that Richard Brothers, the supposed prophet, became extremely popular; and as he had declared that he was com- manded by divine authority to proclaim the destruction of the city of London by earthquake and fire, many of his believers who resided within the doomed precincts quitted their habitations, and found temporary abodes outside the proscribed districts : amongst these was a Mr. Baurie, a tradesman of the Strand, who, terrified at the denunciation, at a very considerable sacrifice of business and property, left his house and occupied Mrs. Heartwell's apartments. Brothers resided in Paddington-street, where he was almost worshipped as the Prince of the Hebrews, and the Deliverer and King of the Jews, who was to restore them to New Jerusalem, and become their ruler ; and as there had been some remarkable coincidences connected with his prophecies, thousands of all ranks — even bishops and clergy — visited him, and not a few gave full credence to his absurdities. He frequently called upon Baurie, and, being a lieutenant in the navy, Mrs. Heartwell had more than once or twice conversed with him about her husband. His answers were invariably the same — " Though he be dead, yet shall he live again — though he is lost, yet shall he be found." Ambiguous as this reply may be considered, it encouraged the cherished hope that her husband would be restored to her. Strong as her mind usually was, the mild and gentlemanly manners of the prophet, combined with his upright conduct and undeviating integrity, won upon her feelings; and though she pitied the weakness of his believers, there were times when his observations made a deeper impression upon herself than she liked to acknowledge. Meetings were held in Baurie's apartment, which were attended by num- bers of the select — the principal of whom were Brassey Allhead, an intel- ligent oriental scholar, who had resided many years in India, and now sat as member of Parliament for , William Bryan, George Turner, and others, who pretended to see visions, claimed the gift of prophecy, and bore testimony to the authenticity of Brothers'^ mission — that he was the FRANK HEARTWELL ; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. 145 descendant of King David — the rod that was to come out of the stem of Jesse, &c, &c. : in fact, there only wanted the " unknown tongues," which has since been discovered by the disciples of fanaticism, to render the whole farce perfect in all its parts. The twilight of a summer evening was gradually deepening its shade, when a hackney-coach stopped at Mrs. Heart well's door, and the servant announced that a strange-looking woman who came in it had endeavoured to force her way into the house, and still remained clamorous to be admitted. "Without a moment's hesitation, Mrs. Heartwell went to the hall — the door was re-opened, but the lady could not help retiring back with amazement, when she beheld a stout female, in 'short Dutch petti- coats, wooden shoes, and a peaked-crown hat, who, in spite of the resist- ance of the servant, immediately and hurriedly advanced towards her. "Who, and what are you?" demanded Mrs. Heartwell. "Keep the woman back, Mary !" The girl caught hold of the intruders petticoats, but, observing a thick club queue hanging down the female's back, she shouted, " Oh, my ! ma'am, she's got a pig-tail ! " and let them go again. " What is all this ? — who do you want ? " demanded the lady, retreat- ing. " Why don't you stop her, Mary ? " " Lor, ma'am, I carnt," replied the girl, again catching hold of the petticoats, whilst a well-remembered voice laughingly exclaimed, — " Bless you, my lady — why, dont you know me ? Howsomever I hope I arnt frightened you ; but what's the odds so as you're happy ?" " Can it indeed be Ben ! " said Mrs. Heartwell, in surprise. " But why are you dressed thus ? " " Oh, it's a long story, my lady ! " replied the seaman ; " and I've kept the duds on to circumwent the pressgangs. But I am so happy to see you again." Mrs. Heartwell extended her hand to the worthy tar, and as her child was the first object of her thoughts, she eagerly inquired whether he " had seen or heard anything of Frank." From the answers she elicited, she very soon came to the conclusion that Frank was not far off. " He is here, Ben — I am sure of it. Open the door, Mary — the coach is still waiting — my son ! — my son ! Merciful Father, I thank thee ! " The next minute the youth was in her arms ; and Sambo, full of joy at his return, sprang in and caught the servant-girl round the neck, so as to excite something like jealousy in the mind of Ben, who however, in the fulness of delight, cut a few capers of the college hornpipe, exclaiming, " What's the odds, so as you're happy ! " and making the hall echo again to the sounds of his wooden shoes. There was pleasure that night at Mrs. Heartwell's, both in the parlour and in the kitchen. In the former Mr. Baurie and family and Mr. Unity Peach, who had called in, witnessed the gratification and anxiety of the mother as Frank recounted his adventures from first to last, not omitting his interview with Brady in the character of a traitorous spy, and stating that the merchant, with his wife and daughter, who had escaped in their company, had gone to an hotel in the neighbourhood. k Sambo and Ben in the kitchen enjoyed themselves to their heart's L 146 GEORGE CRUIKSHANKS OMNIBUS. content — the grog was abroach — the pipes sent forth their wreaths of curling smoke — the servants were delighted, and the hour was late before they all departed to their rest. The next morning Frank and his two humble companions were supplied with suitable apparel, and Mrs. Heartwell looked with pride upon the handsome appearance of her son in his uniform, though a sigh would now and then escape as she contemplated the strong resemblance which he bore to his father, and when she thought how soon they must part again. The young midshipman, accompanied by the seaman and the negro, went to the Admiralty and reported their escape to the secretary, who questioned Frank pretty closely relative to what he had witnessed in Paris. During the inquiry a tall, upright, stately gentleman entered the room, and not only remained to listen to the conversation, but put several questions to the youth, and seemed satisfied with the ready and pleasing manner in which they were answered. Pie was then directed to call the next day, and instructions would be given to him for their future pro- ceedings. Frank was quitting the Admiralty gates, when a government messenger tapped him on the shoulder and an officer took him into custody. Ben and the black would have resisted ; but the youth desired them to desist, and, conscious of innocence of any crime, cheerfully accompanied the messenger, followed at a little distance by Sambo and the seaman. The whole had been done so quietly that no bustle was excited, and they were soon in the Horne-office at Downing Street, and Frank was summoned into the presence of Mr. Dundas, the Secretary of State, and questioned relative to his having seen lawyer Brady at the house of Polverel, and what transpired there. The youth explicitly answered every interrogatory, and was requested to accompany Mr. Dundas to the Privy Council, which was then about to sit. The carriage was waiting ; and when Ben saw the smiling face of his young master as he nodded at him on ascending the steps of the vehicle, he became assured that nothing was wrong, though he determined to watch where he went to ; and both the seaman and the black had a smart run for it till they saw the equipage enter the archway of a prison- like building, and Ben became fearful that the young officer was " going to be clapped in limbo." He went up to the sentry and, offering him a bite of pigtail, inquired " What place that was." His mind became more appeased, though his wonder was not lessened, on being told that it was " the King's Palace." The Privy Council had met, and lawyer Brady was a prisoner before them on a charge of treasonable practices. Several witnesses were examined, who gave evidence against him ; but as nothing very conclusive could be drawn from it, he remained cool and firm till Frank was intro- duced, when that peculiar rolling of the eye for which he was remarkable under sudden excitement plainly indicated strong internal emotion. Frank was at first somewhat confused, but he was encouraged by the tall gentleman he had seen at the Admiralty, and who was, in fact, the Earl of Chatham, at that time the head of the navy. The youth narrated every particular that had transpired in connexion with Brady at Paris, IWm, G™*lc*Wd : -/u/>/iaAid/ *yi$t&i!%&tJ tee/* /a^?/?/?^ #/- , >ff .. \ /u a 1 1 6 Klect Street FRANK HEART WELL; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. 147 and at the close of his examination he was requested to withdraw. He was shown into a room where the other witnesses w T ere assembled, and here Frank learned that Brady had been engaged by the government as a spy amongst certain of the higher classes of society, whom he first betrayed, and then, having obtained all the intelligence he could of national affairs, it was supposed had secretly gone over to communicate his information to the enemy. This last supposition Frank had confirmed ; and the lawyer was committed to prison on a charge of high treason. On the following day Frank had another interview with the secretary of the Admiralty, and was desired to leave his address and remain at home till further orders, and the seaman and the negro had leave of absence extended to them. Mrs. Heartwell was much pleased at retaining her son with her for some time, especially as she received another handsome donation from her unknown friend, which enabled her to procure him a complete outfit. Mr. Wendover, the merchant, had called, and behaved with great kind- ness and attention to both the mother and son, and the latter was invited to pass a few days at a handsome mansion which had just been purchased near Finchley common, and which gave a right to the owner as lord of the manor. Frank was delighted — he had never ceased to treasure the most pleasing remembrances of the interesting girl who had clung to him for protection on the beach at Blankenburg, and she, with all the tender- ness and devotion of youthful affection, secretly cherished a warm regard for the young midshipman, and she most earnestly longed to see him again. On the evening previous to the intended visit, Brothers, the prophet, held a " meeting " in the drawing-room of Mr. Baurie^s lodgings, and as on these occasions — which were looked upon in the light of devotional exercises — none were excluded, Mrs. Heartwell, Frank, Mr. Unity Peach, Ben and Sambo, and two or three of his leading disciples, as well as the servants, were present. There was nothing in the illusionist's general manner that could be construed into aberration of intellect. He was perfectly intelligible and sane when his monomania was not called into operation. He was a strong-limbed man ; his hair was cropped close — his full eyes bent upon a book that he held in his right hand, and from which he commenced his address by reading passages from the prophecies of Daniel. His dress was remarkably plain, approaching to that usually worn by the Society of Friends, and his cravat w r as tied in the most exact manner, so that the bow in front resembled the cross of St. John of Jeru- salem. At first, his voice was mild and gentle ; but as he proceeded and became warmed with his subject, his countenance assumed an expression of wild energy, his utterance became deep and sepulchral, till at length, throwing down the book, he stood erect, with his arms crossed upon his breast, as the spirit of prophecy seemed to come upon him. " Woe unto ye of the earth who seeing w T ill not believe ; who hear and yet despise. I am he of whom it is said, that a man will be revealed to the Hebrews as their prince, and to all nations as their governor, according to the covenant entered into with king David. Haste then and flee from the wrath to come, for have I not prophesied, and it hath l 2 148 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK's OMNIBUS. come to pass ? — Have I not foretold, and the fulfilment is at hand ? Did I not predict the downfal of monarchy in France? and lo ! it hath .fallen. Did I not foretel the death of Louis ? and he is no more. Did I not say the king of Sweden was given over to destruction ? The great Gustavus is laid in the tomb by the hand of an assassin. Have I not declared that England would be deserted by her allies ? many of them are already gone, and the others will quickly follow. — The king Pof Prussia will acknowledge the republic of France ; — the government of Poland will be changed, and the monarch driven from his throne : — the stadtholdership of Holland shall be cut off close to the ground ! Hear and understand, ye men who are in authority ! The prisons are crowded with captives charged with high treason, but the powers shall not prevail against them; — yet a little while and the prison doors shall be opened and the whole shall walk forth free. Hearken, oh ! ye Hebrews, and listen, oh ! ye people — London, with its Arma- geddon""", shall be utterly destroyed. — Lo ! I saw in a vision, and Satan clothed in white and scarlet, and breathing desecration and fire, was entering the condemned city, and suddenly there was strife and confusion among the citizens, and every man's hand was armed against his brother, till a river ran through London of the colour of blood, and there was a voice of fury and the noise of an earthquake, and there were groans of woe — woe — woe ! And I prayed and wrestled with the spirit that the city might be spared, and He, the Mighty One, was angered, and his wrath frightened away the angel from my side, and all became dark and obli- vious ; yet I saw in my vision that London had sunk into the bowels of the ground, and between the Downs and Windsor there was but one vast sheet of water, so that no trace of the city could be found. Why will ye die, oh ! house of Israel ? — hear and believe ! And a storm shall arise — there will be consternation amongst our rulers — the English Admiralty shall be shaken as a man would shake bread in a basket." (Frank looked at Ben, and his countenance evinced displeasure.) " The prop and stay of the nation shall be knocked away — her armies will be destroyed, and her navy will be annihilated — the carcases of her soldiers shall strew the earth — the bodies of her seamen in an ocean-grave lie buried — for the enemy shall prevail, and the proud ships shall be sunk or grace the triumph of the foe." Here the prophet was interrupted by Ben, who, rising up and biting through his quid, as he hitched up his trowsers, ejaculated with vehemence the word " Gammon," seemingly to the great delight of Mr. Unity Peach, who screwed his face into all manner of shapes to conceal his mirth, and uttered, " Sit down, man — saucy sailor — go to sea." The prophet prepared to renew his subject; but Frank, seconding Ben's motion by rising also, boldly said, that " being a British naval officer he could not sit to hear the service he loved denounced — it would be treason to his country. The English ensign had been victorious on the seas, and its gallant defenders would never allow it to be dishonoured." " Hurrah, Master Frank," shouted Ben, " who cares for a bit of a * By this name he called the Houses of Parliament. FRANK HEARTWELL; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. 149 breeze ! Nillyhate our navy indeed ! — bury all hands in the ocean ! — strike to the enemy too ! — Gammon, all gammon ; but there, what's the odds so as you're happy." " Neber see*de day, boy," chimed in Sambo, as he imitated the example of his master, " Golly-make me tink ob em gullemtine." The three withdrew, and Mr. Unity Peach soon afterwards left the party, " in order," as he said, " to scold the unmanly interruption given to Mi*. Brothers," but in reality to vent his spleen against everybody ; and the prophet very speedily took his departure. The stately and elegant mansion purchased by Mr. Wendover was indeed delightfully situated, and the grounds had been laid out with considerable taste and skill. Joyous were the hours that Frank passed there in the society of friends, who esteemed him as their deliverer from death, and particularly with Helen, who not only admired the handsome young officers improved appearance, but also very naturally evinced gratitude towards him for saving the life of her father. Never were pair more truly happy ; the present was to them all bright, and clear, and shining ; they had no thought of the coming future ; not a cloud intervened to cast a gloom upon their innocent enjoyments ; and no pain was experienced till the time of separation approached, and then they felt how truly estimable and dear they were to each other. Frank was on the verge of his seventeenth birth-day ; Helen had just passed her fifteenth ; and both were experiencing those delightful sensations of affection, which in early life are so exquisitely delicious, because they are untainted by unhallowed thoughts or worldly desires. On the estate was a beautiful little rural cottage, over which the vine grew in rich luxuriance, and its garden shone bright with the varied hues of many flowers. Often when passing it Frank had wished it was the home of his mother, whose health had become impaired by lodging-house keeping, and she earnestly desired to retire from it. The place had been unoccupied for several years, and Helen, without saying anything to Frank, had urged the suit with her parents to offer it to Mrs. Heartwell as a resi- dence. Mrs. Wendover and Helen called upon that lady ; and the former was so much gratified with the deportment and conversation of Mrs. Heartwell, that she at once made the proposition and invited her down to visit the place. The invitation was accepted, but before the day arrived Frank was accosted in the street by Shipkins, who had acted as Brady's assistant, and he delivered a message from his employer, earnestly entreating that the youth would come to him, as he had affairs of importance to communi- cate. Shipkins also added his own persuasions to go immediately ; but Frank peremptorily declined, until he had consulted with his mother, who, on his return home, not only advised the interview, but also resolved to accompany him as vague thoughts rose in her mind that possibly she might learn something respecting her husband. On the succeeding forenoon they went to the prison, and were informed that Brady had contrived to make his escape during the night, and the officers were then out in search of him. Protected from impressment by leave from the admiralty, both Ben 150 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK-'s OMNIBUS. and the negro could go where they pleased : and as the merchant had pre- sented them with a liberal sum, they did not fail to avail themselves of the enjoyment of freedom. The Royal Circus (as the Surrey Theatre was then called) was a place of great celebrity for its melo-dramatic perform- ances, and the " unrivalled " feats of horsemanship, enlivened as they always were by the quaint humour of a clever clown. Ben and Sambo had gone to visit a relation of the former somewhere in the neighbourhood of Walworth, and Frank had engaged to meet them at the notorious tea- gardens known by the sign of the Dog and Duck, in St. George's Fields, to accompany them to the Circus. The morning and evening promenades at the Dog and Duck were frequented by all the dashing bucks of the time, with their ladies ; and amongst the company might often be seen gentlemen riders, whose modesty on the highway induced them to put crape over their faces as they uttered "Stand, and deliver" — in short, the place became the assemblage of the worst characters of society. Frank, habited in plain clothes (as his uniform would not have corre- sponded with the dress of his companions), was crossing the open fields to the place of appointment, when Shipkins again addressed him, and by assurances that he could inform him of the fate of his father, induced the young man to enter a respectable-looking house in the neighbourhood ; but no sooner had they advanced into a room at the back of the premises, than Frank was seized by two stout men, a wet cloth bound over his mouth, and he was conveyed to a sort of dungeon in the rear of the building, where his clothes were stripped off, and a canvas shirt and trousers substituted in their stead ; an iron band was then clasped round liis body, and he found himself chained to the floor. The intentions of Shipkins were now evident ; and Frank conjectured that his death was determined upon. Thinking more of his mother than himself, the young man suffered great distress, which was not relieved by a confused noise that suddenly commenced ; and by placing his ear against the ground, he thought he could distinguish the strife of many human voices. "What it meant he could not tell, but he was not long kept in ignorance, for in another half hour the door of his dungeon was thrown open, and Ben and Sambo, with a crowd of people, entered to his rescue. " He is not here," said the seaman mournfully, and not knowing the youth in his change of attire ; '• but this is another victim, anyhow — the man-trapping vagabonesP' The black, however, with keener eye, had recognised his master, and he- exclaimed, u Golly, you blind, Misser Ben, for no see me young massa," and he bounded forward to release him ; but the chain and band defied his strength — the key was not to be found ; but the enraged populace applied crow-bars to the stone in which the staple was fixed, and, after much exertion, it was forced away, and Frank was carried to the open air, where other unfortunate captives had been previously conveyed. It appeared that Ben and the black were passing the house, which was notoriously known as one of the numerous crimping establishments of the neighbourhood, when their progress was arrested by a crowd that had gathered in front of it, and two or three declared that they had seen a young gentleman decoyed into it, and so many crimes had been perpetrated there,, I prank iieartwell; or, fifty years ago. 151 that they were determined to put a stop to them. Ben required a descrip- tion of the young gentleman, which was given, and suspicion crossed his mind that induced him to join the assailants ; in fact, he became their leader — the doors were beat in — the windows smashed, and a forcible entrance made by the mob, whose numbers increased every minute. Several poor creatures were discovered almost in a state of exhaustion, but the principals of the establishment had escaped. In one room Ben found a part of Frank's dress, and the sight almost maddened him. The search was continued, and resulted as has already been told ; and now a wild but characteristic scene of lawless justice ensued. The mob dragged the fur- niture out into the fields, and piling it up fire was applied, and the whole was soon in a blaze. They next proceeded to demolish the building itself, nor did they cease till the whole was razed to the ground. But Frank did not wait to witness the termination — a locksmith had succeeded in forcing the clasp of the band, and releasing him from the encumbrance, which Sambo carried home with him as a trophy. Mrs. Heartwell was informed of what had taken place, and a probability was suggested that her husband might have been carried off in a similar way. The visit to Finchley was made, and Mrs. Heartwell was persuaded by Frank to accept the tenancy of the cottage, hoping that Fortune would favour him with prize-money to render her life independent and com- fortable. He had now twelve months' pay due, which, with what she would receive by disposing of part of her furniture, would serve for present exigencies ; and a distant relation had bequeathed her an annuity of thirty pounds a year — so that prospects brightened before her. Brady could not be found, and Frank was ordered down to join his ship, that was then refitting at Portsmouth, and to take Sambo with him, whilst Ben was directed to accompany them and procure a passage round to Plymouth to the Windsor Castle. Frank received a letter to his captain from the secretary, and set out for Portsmouth, where he delivered his letter, and ascertained that it contained a strong recommendation of himself to the captain. Being some- what of a favourite with the first lieutenant, the young midshipman earnestly solicited him to use his influence in getting Ben transferred to the same ship with him. The request prevailed; and Ben, by the admiral's directions, was entered on the books of the "Thunder- bolt" seventy-four. Nor was he disappointed in his expectations of prize-money, for in the course of a few months several valuable captures were made, and the young midshipman enjoyed the satisfaction of knowing that his mother was comfortably settled at the cottage with a competence, and that Helen when at Finchley visited her daily. A WARM RECEPTION. Harry paid twenty pounds of sterling metal, To risk his life in a balloon, which burst ; Tom and his friends, pic-nicking, boil'd a kettle, Which Harry (tumbling) fell into head first ; But long ere what it was they well could settle, Arose unhurt from where he'd been immersed — And, " Ah ! why, Tom," said he, " how do, my buck " You see I've just dropped in to take — pot-luck V " 152 o that the face was hidden by a large feminine cap, which, however, it removed and threw upon the bed, discovering a most fearful and ghastly profile. It went through the operation of making its toilet before a small glass, then looked towards the trunk, and then to the bed. After a moment's hesitation, the trunk was opened, and it proceeded to put on an old-fashioned brocade dress. The figure then, after surveying itself in the mirror, slowly turned round, and moved towards me. I felt my blood curdle, my flesh crawl. It passed the foot of the bed, and advanced towards the door. The eyes were cast down ; the hand was upon the fastenings. At this instant the village clock struck, or rather tolled out twelve -and as the last stroke of the bell floated on the breeze, the figure gradually raised its head, and fixed upon me a pair of horrible glaring eyes that turned my heart to ice. A sharp sliding noise on the wall opposite made me turn to look, and the two portraits, a lady, and an officer in a blue uniform, appeared to be leaning out of their frames, and watching me intently. The figure then hastily passed out of the room, uttering a scream- ing note, wilder than the moaning wind. This was answered seemingly from the cellars by a most hideous long-drawn howl, followed by the rattling of locks, bolts, and chains, and a confusion of strange unearthly sounds. I sprang up and seized my pistols. There was a dead silence. I could distinctly hear a whispering, not only on the stairs, but in the closets, the doors of which were slowly pushed open, and more than one pair of eyes flashed upon me from the dark; in an instant the door of the room creaked slowly, and I beheld two or three parchment faces, with fiery eyes, gazing at me. I made now a desperate effort, and levelling a pistol either way, uttered a fierce menace, threatening to fire, if they advanced. This threat was answered by a queer sort of tittering and snuffling; in desperation I pulled the triggers; the result was a double flash in the pan, which overspread the room like a sheet of blue lightning. Then broke forth — a laugh — ten times more horrible than the laughter of a herd of hyenas — I could endure no longer, and sank into the chair, the pistols dropping from my hands. There was a dead pause, and I heard something like the mewing of a cat, yet seemed it like the voice of a child in distress ; and my attention was attracted by the appearance of a black, skeleton of a cat, who was setting up its back, growling and spitting. It then slowly advanced and prowled round the fire-place, and sitting down opposite to the fire with its back towards me, turned its head, and its fearful green eyes met mine. I next heard the whelping of a cur, and the distant, hollow, wolf-like baying of a watch-dog. The sounds approached; the dog-chain rattled up the stairs. I tried to seize my sword, but was paralysed. I could just glance towards the door, whence came a strange, shuffling sound, and the next moment I saw an extraordinary figure enter, with a large carving-knife in his hand. He was dressed in blue livery, with tags — a round paunch— high bony shoulders, and spindle-shanks — he wore a blue Welsh wig — and his nose, which was of enormous size and hooked, was of a deep blue also : it was like burning brimstone. He was followed by a skeleton-like figure ; also in livery, and armed like his fellow. These stood and stared at me. They were followed by a figure, marching into the room with an air of consequence. He was not prepossessing: dimly-glaring saucer-eyes, with a decided cast in them; a small, pinched bit of blue nose; a spacious mouth, with a tooth or two exposed ; the look of age diffused over all. He was wrapped in a blue dressing- gown, and wore a large curled blue wig. As he entered, all appeared blue — the candles, and the fire, whose flames curled themselves into the likeness of some ghastly thing. The whole company, for there were now many intruders, seemed covered with blue mould ; they were the children of Mildew and Decay; they looked damp and slippery. The veteran in the dressing-gown advanced to the fireside with dignity, and looked at me with a withering scowl. I guessed at once that he was, or had been, the master of the mansion, and politeness prompted me to rise. He motioned me to be seated, and then took a chair. A little boy was at his side, and the stately figure of a lady also stood near him — other faces peered over his chair. My venerable host then bent forwards, and placing his 166 GEORGE CRUIKSHANKS OMNIBUS. hands upon his knees, looked sternly in my face and said, in sepulchral tones, — " Pray, sir, did you ever hear that this house is haunted V * * * * I was thunderstruck! What answer could I make? Not a moment was allowed me for reflection, for I instantly felt a violent tug at my pigtail behind, and the brimstoned-ncse butler, leering in my upturned face, exclaimed, " And you don't believe in ghosts !" My terror was at its height. I heard no more ; but I saw — J saw the knife flashing, and felt that, though my head was not off, my pigtail was gone ! Shouts of exulting malice rent the air * But here Mr. Smith was interrupted by a shout of exulting laughter from one of his listeners. It was Mr. O'Brien. " O, ho!" screamed that gentleman; " I'll be kilt intirely. A mighty ingenious tale you've made of it, Mr. Smith. And sure I must tell the thruth, if you bate me for it. Sure and wasn't it the day after we had the stag-hunt, and didn't you get so over head and ears in liquor that you went sleep-walking about the house all night, disturbing the people that were fast asleep: and the night after, sure didn't we tie your pigtail to the bell- rope at the head of the bed, to keep you still, or give us notice of your rambles — and a pretty good notice we got, by the powers ! for what wid the bell ringing and ycur bawling, we thought the house was on fire. I'll never forget seeing you pulling one way and the bell pull pulling the other — and all we could do, we could not keep you aisy, till we undid your tail ; so faith it was Betty, the cook, I remember, who whipt out her scissors, and cut the knot. Oh ! oh ! och !— and that's the thrue wav vr>u lost your pigtail, Mr. Smith." IRISH SIMPLICITY. A military officer, living in barracks, ordered his Irish servant to boil him an egg for breakfast, adding an injunction to " boil it soft." The officer took up the newspaper and read for ten minutes, then wondered why his egg did not arrive, and rang the bell. — "My egg?" — " I'm seeing about it, sir." Another five minutes elapsed. " Where's this egg ?" " Not done, sir." " Not done ! do you mean to keep me waiting all day ?" *' Bring it directly, sir." Still no egg came ; the bell rang once more : " Where is the egg t" thundered the officer. " Yer honor," cried Thomas, in alarm, " didn't you tell me to bile it soft, sir ! and haven't I bileel it this quarter of an hour, and it isn't soft yet." 167 ^u^li&^fa U^ LITTLE SPITZ. A LENTEN ANECDOTE, FROM THE GERMAN OF PROFESSOR SPASS. ) BY MICHAEL ANGELO TITMARSH. "I think," said Rebecca, flinging down her beautiful eyes to the ground, and heaving a great sigh — "I think, Signor Lorenzo, I could eat a bit of — sausage." " Of whatV said Lorenzo, bouncing up and forgetting all sense of polite- ness in the strange demand. " My dearest madam, you eat a sausage ? " " Ha, ha, I'm blesht," shouted Abednego, the banker, Rebecca's papa, " I'm blesht, if Signor Lorenz does not think you want to eat the unclean animal, Rebecca, my soul's darling. These shtudents are dull fellows, look you, and only know what's in their books. Why, there are in dis vicked vorld no less than four hundred kindsh of shausages, Signor Lorenz, of which Herr Biircke, the court-butcher, will show you the resheipts. — Confess now, you thought my darling wanted to eat pig — faugh ! " Rebecca's countenance, at the very idea, assumed an expression of the most intolerable disgust, and she gazed reproachfully at Lorenzo. That young man blushed, and looked particularly foolish, as he said : " Pardon me, dearest madam, for entertaining a thought so unworthy. I did, I confess, think o£ pork-sausages, when you spoke, and although pretty learned on most subjects, am indeed quite ignorant upon the matter of which Herr Abednego has just been speaking." " I told you so," says Abednego. " Why, my goot sir, dere is mutton- •sausages, and veal-sausages, and beef-sausages, and — " " Silence, papa," said Rebecca, sharply : u for what has Signor Lorenz to do with such things ? I'm very sorry that I — that I offended him by asking for any dish of the kind, and pray let him serve us with what he has." Rebecca sunk down in a chair looking very faint ; but Lorenzo started 168 GEORGE CRUIKSHANR's OMNIBUS. up, and swore that he would have himself cut up into little pieces, stuffed into a bladder, and made sausage-meat of, rather than that the lovely Israelite should go without the meat that she loved. And, indeed, such was the infatuated passion which this young man entertained for the Jewess, that I have not the least doubt but that he would have been ready to do as he said. " I will send down immediately into the town," continued he, fc * and in ten minutes, my messenger will be back again." " He must run very fast," said the lady, appeased, " but I thought you said, Signor Lorenz, that you kept but one servant, and that your old housekeeper was too ill to move?" " Madam, make your mind quite easy. — I have the best little mes- senger in the world." " Is it a fairy," said the Jewess, " or a household demon ? They say that you great students have many such at your orders, and I should like to see one of all things." " You shall see him, dearest lady," replied the student, who took from a shelf a basket and a napkin, put a piece of money into the basket (I believe the poor devil had not many of them), and wrote a few words on a paper which he set by the side of the coin. " Mr. Biircke," wrote he,"Herr Hofmetzler, (that is, Mr. Court-butcher,) have the goodness to send, per bearer, a rixdollars worth of the best sausages — not pork." And then Lorenz opened his window, looked into his little garden, whistled, and shouted out, " Hallo ! Spitz ! " " Now," said he, " you shall see my familiar ;" and a great scratching and whining was presently heard at the door, which made Rebecca wonder, and poor old fat Abednego turn as yellow as a parsnip. I warrant the old wretch thought that a demon with horns and a tail was coming into the room. The familiar spirit which now made its appearance had a tail certainly, and a very long one for such a little animal ; but there was nothing terrible about him. The fact is, it was Lorenz's little turnspit- dog, that used to do many such commissions for the student, who lived half a mile out of the city of Krahwinkel, where the little dog was perfectly well known. He was a very sagacious, faithful, ugly little dog, as ever was seen. He had a long black back and tail, and very little yellow legs ; but he ran excessively fast on those little legs, and regularly fetched his master's meat and rolls from the city, and brought them to that lovely cottage which the student, for quiet's sake, occupied at a short distance from town. " When I give him white money," said Lorenz, caressing the little faithful beast, that wagged his tail between the calves of his master's legs, and looked up fondly in his face, " when I give him white money, he goes to the butcher's ; when I give him copper, he runs to the baker's, — and was never yet known to fail. Go, my little Spitz, as fast as legs will carry thee. Go, my dog, and bring with thee the best of sausages for the breakfast of the peerless Rebecca Abednego." With this gallant speech, which pleased the lady greatly, and caused her to try to blush as much as possible, the little dog took the basket in his mouth, and trotted down stairs, and went off on his errand. While he is on the way LITTLE SPITZ. J 69 to Krahwinkel and back, I may as well mention briefly who his master was, how he came to be possessed of this little animal, and how the fair Jewess had found her way to a Christian student's house. Lorenz's parents lived at Polkwitz, which everybody knows is a hun- dred leagues from Krahwinkel. They were the most pious, orderly, excellent people ever known, and their son bade fair to equal them in all respects. He had come to Krahwinkel to study at the famous university there ; but he never frequented the place except for the lectures ; never made one at the noisy students' drinking bouts ; and was called, for his piety and solitary life, the hermit. The first year of his residence, he was to be seen not only at lectures, but at church regularly. He never ate meat on a Friday ; he fasted all through Lent ; he confessed twice in a month ; and was a model for all young students, not merely at Krahwinkel, Bonn, Jena, Halle, and other German universities ; but those of Salamanca and the rest in Spain, of Bologna and other places of learning in Italy, nay, of Oxford and Cambridge in the island of England, would do well to take example by him, and lead the godly life which he led. But I am sorry to say that learning oftentimes begets pride, and Lorenzo Tisch, seeing how superior he was to all his companions, ay, and to most of the professors of the university, and plunging deeper and deeper daily into books, began to neglect his religious duties at first a little, then a great deal, then to take no note of them at all ; for though, when the circumstances of this true history occurred, it was the season of Lent, Lorenzo Tisch had not the slightest recollection of the fact, not having been at church, or looked into an almanack or a prayer-book, for many months before. Lorenzo was allowed a handsome income of a hundred rixdollars per year by his parents, and used to draw this at the house of Mr. Abednego, the banker. One day, when he went to cash a draft for five dollars, the lovely Miss Rebecca Abednego chanced to be in the room. Ah, Lorenzo, Lorenzo ! better for you to have remained at home studying the Pons Asinorum ; better still for you to have been at church, listening to the soul-stirring discourses of Father Windbeutel ; better for you to have been less learned and more pious : then you would not have been so likely to go astray, or allow your fancy to be inflamed by the charms of wicked Jewesses, that all Christian men should shun like poison. Here it was Lent season — a holiday in Lent, and Lorenzo Yon Tisch knew nothing about the matter, and Rebecca Abednego, and her father, were absolutely come to breakfast with him ! But though Lorenzo had forgotten Lent, the citizens of Krahwinkel had not, and especially one Herr Biircke, the court butcher, to whom Tisch had just despatched Spitz for a dollar's worth of sausage-meat. The visits of Tisch to the Jew's house had indeed caused not a little scandal. The student's odd, lonely ways, his neglect of church, his queer little dog that ran of errands for him, had all been talked of by the towns- people, who had come at last to believe that Lorenzo was no less than a magician, and his dog, as he himself said in joke, his familiar spirit. Poor Spitz ! — no familiar spirit wert thou ; only a little, faithful, ugly 170 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK^S OMNIBUS. dog — a little dog that Tisch's aunt Konisgunda gave to him, who was equally fond of it and him. Those who know Krahwinkel (and who, I should like to know, is not acquainted with that famous city ?) are aware that Mr. Biircke, the court butcher, has his handsome shop in the Schnapps-Gasse, only a very few doors from Abednego's banking-house. Mrs. Biircke is, or used to be, a lady that was very fond of knowing the doings of her neighbours, and passed many hours staring out of her windows, of which the front row gave her a command of the whole of that beautiful street, the Schnapps- Gasse, while from the back the eye ranged over the gardens and summer- houses without the gates of the town, and the great road that goes to Bolkum. Herr Lorenzo's cottage was on this road ; and it was by the Bolkum-gate that little Spitz the dog entered with his basket, when he went on his masters errands. Now, on this day in Lent, it happened that Frau Biircke was looking out of her windows instead of listening at church to Father Windbeutel, and she saw at eleven o'clock Mr. Israel Lowe, Herr Abednego's valet, porter, coachman, gardener, and cashier, bring round a certain chaise that the banker had taken for a bad debt, into which he stepped in his best snuff-coloured coat, and silk stockings, handing in Miss Rachael in a neat dress of yellow silk, a blue hat and pink feathers, and a pair of red morocco slippers that set off her beautiful ankle to advantage. " Odious people !" said Mrs. Biircke, looking at the pair whom Mr. Lowe was driving, " odious, vulgar horse ! " (Herr Biircke kept only that one on which his lad rode ;) " Roman-nosed beast ! I shouldn't wonder but that the horse is a Jew too ! " — and she saw the party turn down to the left into Bolkum-Strasse, towards the gate which I have spoken of before. When Madame Biircke saw this, she instantly flew from her front window to her back window, and there had a full view of the Bolkum road, and the Abednego chaise jingling up the same. Mr. Lowe, when they came to the hill, got off the box and walked, Mr. Abednego sat inside and smoked his pipe. " Ey du lieber Himmel I " screamed out Mrs. Biircke, " they have stopped at the necromancer's door ! " It was so that she called the worthy Tisch : and she was perfectly right in saying that the Israelitish cavalcade had stopped at the gate of his cottage ; where also appeared Lorenzo, bowing, in his best coat, and offering his arm to lead Miss Rebecca in. Mrs. Biircke could not see how he trembled as he performed this work of politeness, or what glances Miss Rebecca shot forth from her great wicked black eyes. Having set down his load, Mr. Israel again mounted his box, and incontinently drove away. "Here comes that horrid little dog with the basket," continued Mrs. Biircke, after a few minutes' more looking out of the window : ■ — and now is not everything explained relative to Herr Lorenzo Tisch, Miss Rebecca Abednego, and the little dog ? Mrs. Biircke hated Spitz : the fact is, he once bit a hole in one of her great, round, mottled arms, which had thrust itself into the basket that LITTLE SPITZ. 17l Spitz carried for his master s provisions ; for Mrs. B. was very anxious to know what there was under the napkin. In consequence, therefore, of this misunderstanding between her and the dog, whenever she saw the animal, it was Mrs. B.'s wicked custom to salute him with many foul words and curses, and to compass how to do him harm ; for the Frau Hofmetzlerinn, as she was called in Krahwinkel, was a lady of great energy and perseverance, and nobody could ever accuse her of forgetting an injury. The little dog, as she sat meditating evil against him, came trotting down the road, entered as usual by the Bolkum-gate, turned to the right, and by the time Madame Biircke had descended to the shop, there he was at the door, sure enough, and entered it wagging his tail. It was holiday Lent, and the butcher-boys were absent ; Mr. Biircke himself was abroad ; there was not a single joint of meat in the shop, nor ought there to be at such a season, when all good men eat fish. But how was poor Spitz to know what the season was, or tell what his master himself had forgotten ? He looked a little shy when he saw only Madame Biircke in the shop, doubtless remembering his former disagreement with her ; but a sense of duty at last prevailed with him, and he jumped up on his usual place on the counter, laid his basket down, whined, and began flapping the place on which he sat with his tail. Mrs. Biircke advanced, and held out her great mottled arm rather fearfully ; he growled, and made her start a little, but did her no harm. She took the paper out of the basket, and read what we have before imparted to the public, viz. : — " Mr. Court Butcher, have the goodness to send per bearer a rixdollar's worth of lest sausage meat, not pork. — horenz Tisch." As she read, the dog wagged his tail more violently than ever. A horrible thought entered the bosom of Mrs. Biircke, as she looked at the dog, and from the dog glanced at her husband's cleaver, that hung idling on the wall. "Sausages in Lent !" said Mrs. Biircke: " sausages to be fetched by a, dog for that heathen necromancer and that accursed Jew ! He shall have sausages with a vengeance. Mrs. Biircke took down the cleaver, and ***** About twenty minutes afterwards Herr Lorenzo Tisch opened his garden gate, whither he had been summoned by the whining and scratching of his little faithful messenger. Spitz staggered in, laid the basket at his master's feet, licked his hand, and fell down. M Blesh us, dere 'sh something red all along the road ! " cried Mr. Abednego. " Pshaw ! papa, never mind that, let 's look at the sausages," said his -daughter Rebecca — a sad gormandizer for so young a woman. Tisch opened the basket, staggered back, and turned quite sick. — In the basket which Spitz had carried so faithfully lay the poor little dog's own tail ! "What took place during the rest of the entertainment, I have never been able or anxious to learn ; but this I know, that there is a single 172 GEORGE CRUIKSHANKS OMNIBUS. gentleman now living with Madame Konisgunda Yon Speck, in the beautiful town of Polkwitz, a gentleman, who, if he has one prejudice in the world, has that of hating the Jewish nation — a gentleman who goes to church regularly, and, above all, never eats meat in Lent. He is followed about by a little dog — a little ugly dog — of which he and Madame Yon Speck are outrageously fond ; although, between our- selves, the animal's back is provided with no more tail than a cannon-ball. "THIS NIGHT VAUXHALL WILL CLOSE FOR EVER! (by laman blanchard.) These were the words — or rather, this was the line of heartbreaking octo- syllabic verse — that met the gaze of the living on every dead wall of the metro- polis. They stared at me from the newspapers, they glared on me from the shoulders of perambulating board-men, they rang in my ears everywhere — Vauxhall will close for ever I Had it .been the " Pyramids to be sold by auction, by George Robins,"' or " the positively last fall of the Falls of Niagara ;" — had it been the " final extinction of Mount luna," or " the Moon shining for this night only, after which it will be disposed of to cheesemongers, by sale of candle, or private contract," my spirit had been comparatively untroubled ; — but Vauxhall ! Truly does our great Wordsworth tell us that there are thoughts which lie too deep for tears. I cannot cry, though this be a crying evil ; my pen must weep its ink-drops over the event. Had a dozen Union- workhouses been erected on Epsom downs, or a national school supplanted the grand stand at Doncaster. Had the Bank of England itself been turned into alms-houses, or the Royal Academy announced the last day of drawing — these, and millions of such minor evils, I could well have borne. Some YAUXHALL. 173 substitute for the departed might yet have been discovered. Were there no bread, cheap or dear, at home or abroad, and all the bakers above-ground had burnt themselves to cinders in their own ovens, still could we have gone to the pastry-cook's for comfort, and have eaten buns. But the Royal Gardens shut! — closed for ever! — hammered down ! — the light put out, which no Promethean lampman can relume ! Where should Othello go? <• The days of my youth," I exclaimed aloud, as 1 wandered sorrowfully through the brilliant avenues of the doomed garden on the last night — " the days of my youth, where are they .'" and an echo answered, " Here we are !" And there they are indeed, buried for ever in dark Vauxhall, knocked down as part of the fix- tures, swept away with broken lamps and glasses, with the picked bones of vanished chickens, and the crumbs of French rolls that are past. To have visited Vauxhall, like bricks, for so many years, only to find bricks and V r auxhall becoming one ! But. what a last night was that ! There were many visions in one. From the Vauxhall of Victoria, fancy reverted to the Vauxhall of the first George, and the walks became immediately peopled with periwigged beaux, and courtly dames fresh from the frames of Kneller. Never did living eye behold such a congrega- tion of grotesque beauties, out of a picture-gallery. The paint was brilliant as the great master's canvas, the arrangement of the patches was a triumph of art, the flash of the diamonds made the lamps look dim, the flutter of fans filled the air with a delicious freshness. Ail the wits of the last century were there, from Steele and Addison to Fielding and Goldsmith, and from these to Sheridan, and the gallant roysterers of a later era. There was Beau Brummell ; — it was the first night the world ever saw the astonishing spectacle of a starched cravat — the first night the great Discoverer of Starch ever exhibited to the vulgar gaze his sublime invention. That morning, a friend who called upon him encountered his servant on the stairs, descending from the Iteau's dressing-room, with a whole armful of stiffened but rumpled cravats — there were at least seventy of the curiosities. — " What, in the name of mystery, have you got there f* inquired the friend, — "what are those things?" "These, sir?" responded the valet, — "O, these ore our failures !" The beau's cravat justified that night, by the perfection of its folds, the multiplicity of experiments. That seventy-first trial was indeed a triumph. * * * In the twinkle of an eye, what a change!— Beau Brummell had disappeared for ever! Renown and grace were dead. The stately damts had gone: fans, feathers, diamonds — all; and in their place appeared a very queer collection of feminine miscellanies, young and old, some from the country, some from the outskirts of the metropolis, dodging here and there, rushing from sight to sight, too eager and excited to see anything clearly ; expressing their wonder in mingled peals of "My eye!" " Well, raally now !" and " Lauk-a-mercy !"— exclamations which were interrupted by frequent appeals to a bag of thick, home-manufactured sandwiches, borne on the arm — or critical observations on the ginger beer. The beaux, too, had vanished ; and instead of the Sir Plumes, revelling in the " nice conduct of their clouded canes," came a crowd of London lads, with boots innocent of Warren and hands guiltless of gloves — creatures, at the bare sight of whom through a telescope, Sir Plume himself would have fainted. And as for the wits — behold, where they of late perambulated, a troop of practical jokers, staggering forwards through the walks, or gathered in twos and threes and half-dozens in the supper-boxes, extin- guishing lamps, smashing crockery, beating in the crowns of hats, and it may be smoking cigars in a kind of open secrecy. * * * Short, however, is the duration of this scene. Retreating into another walk, out of the way of the reeling revellers, I obtained a new view of the yet famed and once fashionable gardens; and now, methought, their glory was indeed departed. The place, which before was brighter than the day, seemed the temple of Twilight. The most brilliant lamp it boasted shed but a miserable dimness round. The genius of Vauxhall was in the position of Damocles — only, instead of the sword it was a hammer that was suspended over her. Nothing flou- 174 GEORGE CRUIKSHANKS OMNIBUS. rished there but the universal enemy — Decay. The gardens seemed to hold a place between Earth and the Eternal Shades. The words " Darkness Visible," formed the most conspicuous object, — the letters, of an enormous size, were composed of grey and black lamps, which the rain, descending in torrents, was fast putting out. A transparency, representing Melancholy playing the bagpipes, had a very striking and sombre effect ; and another exhibition of a fountain that had ceased playing, -with a pair of black swans floating in the puddle beneath, proved truly attractive to the few low-spirited stragglers that remained. A beautiful dioramic view of the Elysian fields, brilliantly illuminated, drew T my attention ; but on going to look, I saw nothing but a few acres of gloomy waste land, with a board, displaying the notice, "This ground to let on building leases." The farce performed in the rotunda was " Blue Devils," at some of the scenes in which the audience were quite broken-hearted, and the actors were called for amidst general sobs. In the orchestra, the muffled drum was extremely admired ; the violins, reduced to one string, crumbled under the hands of the players like touchwood, otherwise their notes would have been highly dispiriting ; the larger instruments spoke in hollow murmurs ; the flutes gave forth the parting sighs breathed into them by the asthmatic and fading musicians. Ramo Samee, reduced to a nonentity, flung the balls up without even an effort to catch them, and the sword, like Macbeth's amen, "stuck in his throat." One " swallow " would have been a summer to him. The waiters went about with umbrellas and lanterns to collect orders. Through their threadbare, meagre, fleecy habiliments — coats of Scotch mist, and continua- tions of London fog— might be traced their thin and fleshless forms. Something sharper than penury had worn them to the bones — the sense that their occupation was gone. They shuffled from walk to walk, from box to box, carrying broken plates with faint impressions of various delicacies ; semi-sandwiches were on some, and on others were exhibited narrow slices of transparent and shadowy ham. The soda-water they brought had caught the hue of the bottles, and it trickled forth in showers oif tears. The sparkling champagne was perfectly still ; the very punch was "drowned" in the bowl, spiritless and stagnant. The chicken looked as if it had been deposited for the last few years in the mummy-room of the British Museum. The tongue might have belonged to the first fat buck shot by Robin Hood. Those weak, wan, dilapidated waiters! Those fossil remains of a forlorn hope? As the night advanced they grew more attenuated. The " any orders ? " dwindled to a whisper, and the "coming, sir!" lapsed into a scarcely audible sigh. They had hardly strength enough left to carry away the fragments of a tart. They glided about like ghosts amidst the expiring lamps. Another hour elapsed, and everything denoted the End of the Change. Ruin had seized on all. The arrack dried up in the bowl, ere it could be carried to the appointed box. Every glass was cracked, every fork had forfeited a prong ; and in the darkness and confusion men carved with the handles of their knives, macadamising their suppers! Ihe trees and shrubs lost their natural character, and became yews and cypresses ; and extending from branch to branch were to be seen large cob- webs, having the hue and substance of slices of boiled beef. Then there was a general rush through the rain to see the Invisible Fireworks. What a sight was that! The Catherine wheels were stationary ; the rockets changed their minds as they were going up, and the whiz was but a consumptive cough; the Roman candles had all been accommodated with extinguishers; and the shells broke their inflam- matory hearts in smoke and silence. Three reluctant and doubtful bangs from a solitary cracker sounded the requiem of the Pyrotechnic art ! Then methought the company began to " disperse " indeed. Arms put them- selves within other arms, and moved on, while the legs that had once belonged to them sought the promenade in another direction, and dragged themselves across it as over a ploughed field. The persevering and inexhaustible spirit of Vaux- hall, however, was yet animate in some; and my eye caught glimpses of strange groups — parts of people — sometimes the lower extremities— sometimes the upper — disjointed dancers, all performing quadrilles in spasmodic movements, under umbrellas, to inaudible music, supplied by the Apparitions of Fiddlers. VATJXIIALL. ] 75 * * * Now came, on a sudden, another change. A light appeared in what had always been the dark walks of the garden, and as it advanced exhibited the figure of the celebrated Old Hermit. His head hung on his breast, as with a con- sciousness that his hour of oblivion was nigh, and he carried his closed volume under his arm. Another figure, scarcely less shadowy, joined him ; it was Simp- son, — yea, Simpsons self ! the unforgotten master of the ceremonies. They advanced, arm in arm; and as they approached the spot on which I stood, riveted with awe, who should make his appearance, as though he descended from the air, but a third great adventurer — one equally immortal, but happily far more mortal than either — the undaunted and untiring aeronaut, Mr. Green! On the instant, the ground beneath opened, and the great Nassau balloon sprung upward, already filled with gas. I saw that the finale had arrived. Green embraced the ghost of the departed master, and, surrendering his own place, handed him into the car, into whicli he was followed by many of the unfading luminaries of the "property" in past and present times. In the moment of ascent, Simpson, my venerable preceptor in the arts of politeness, the acquaintance of my youth, per- ceived me in the crowd ; he stretched forth a hand, which felt as cold, damp, and impalpable as fog, and, shaking mine, exclaimed with his usual urbanity, " One pinch at — parting?" I felt in my pocket for my snuff-box, eager for a friendly participation, when suddenly — quick as lightning, in fact — 1 felt a sharp tap on my shoulder; and on looking round — I found myself amidst the old well known blaze of lights, surrounded by myriads of smart and merry loungers, with police constable 142 X arousing me as people are aroused from dreams, and saying, for my comfort, "Come sir, come! Why, you're asleep as you walk. You've been robbed, I tell you; for your pocket's turned inside out." * * * I got home about three, and at last fell asleep in reality. I dreamed that Vauxhall Gardens were entirely built over, covered with finished and half-finished houses, in streets and terraces ; and that I was actually reposing at that moment in No. 16, Arrack-place, looking upon Sky-rocket-crescent. Me- thought there was a universal complaint among the inhabitants, of supernatural noises in the night. Not a wink was to be had for the tunings of musical instru- ments, the calling for waiters, the shouting of "encore," the mingling of thousands of voices; all crowned with peals of laughter, and whispers of " How tired I am, sure-ly!" Kach night at twelve, every occupier of a tenement on that famous site was awakened from his first sleep by a multitudinous exclamation of, •' O ! Oh! Oh-h-h !" accompanied by a light, blue, red, green, yellow, et cetera, and a shower of falling sparks. "The cloud-capp'd trees, the gorgeous avenues, The brilliant lamps, the blazing fireworks, The gilded saloons, the slender sandwiches, Yea, the great Rotunda itself, Shall dissolve — And leave not arrack behind!" Simpson and Shakspeare. 176 a ^Tal* of $c Qimtz of ©to. It was a Maiden young and fair, She sat and watch'd within her bower, In days of yore when warriors were, And belted knight, and moated tower ; Long, long ago! She sat and watch'd one summer's eve — Why doth she so ? Why will not she her lattice leave ? Ah, those were days when maids were true ! The hour was come, — and well she knew. It was a Squire, a gentle squire, Came spurring darkly down below ; His steed was splashed with foam and mire, Oh, what but love could urge him so ? 'Twas even so, He crept beneath the castle-wall, Long, long ago, And on his love began to call ; The damsel o'er her lattice hung, He touch'd his lute, and thus he sung : " They told me, love, that thou wert fair, Arid very fair thou art, 'tis true ; They said thy cheeks like roses were, Thy lips, ' two rosebuds wet with dew ;' But is it so ? Could ever flower with thee compare ? Ah no ! ah no ! Oh never yet was rose so fair ! Could flowers like thee in gardens grow, The gardeners all were blithe, I trow. " They said thine eye was like the star, The brightest star that beams above, Which men may gaze on from afar, Admire and watch, in fear and love ; But is it so ? Was ever star so soft and fair ? Ah no ! ah no ! Oh, would such stars in heaven there we re How glad I'd watch till morning's light, To peep and worship all the night." It was her Sire, a surly knight, He slept, and slept, with many a snore ; He heard the song, and woke in spite, And left his couch, y-grumbling soie. He look'd below, Then seized a huge cold-water bath — Long, long ago — And flung it o'er, in rage and wrath ! — The squire flew off, the damsel fled, And then the knight went back to bed. B. Hall. AN ANACREONTIC FABLE. Cupid, a spoiled and peevish boy, Is always wanting some new toy ; And what is more, his mother Venus Never denies — quodcunque genus — Any odd thing the urchin fancies, From kings and queens to scullery Nancies. His fondling mother, t' other day, Gave him some hearts wherewith to play ; No sooner did the rascal take them, Than he began to bruise and break them ! H. 11. 177 FRANK IIEARTWELL ; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. BY BOWMAN TILLER. CHAPTER VII. From the moment that war was declared against the French repuhlic, the navy of England reigned supreme upon the ocean ; and such was the vigilance and gallantry of our tars, that scarcely a cruiser showed her nose out of an enemy's harbour, but she was quickly led by it into a British port. The captain of the Thunderbolt was a thorough seaman of the hard-fighting school, and with such an example in his commander, and with a private tutor like honest Ben, to teach him the practical details, young Heart well could not fail to become well versed in his several duties. In Lord Bridport's action, off L'Orient, his ship was one of those most actively engaged, and gained great credit; but on her return into port, she was paid off, and the whole of her company trans- ferred to a noble three-decker, which subsequently took the lead in the mutiny at Spithead. It is unnecessary to enter into details of this event — in which the enemies of England sought to injure and humble the flag of Britannia, through the disaffection of her hardy seamen. Emissaries were con- stantly at work, endeavouring to inflame their passions, and poison the source of honour ; but though the gallant tars were true to themselves, and to each other, they were also faithful to their country. Ben, as a matter of course, had joined his brother sailors in their equitable demands, and Sambo had very naturally followed the example. Frank's conduct, during this eventful period, was governed by the strictest sense of in- tegrity. He was well aware that the claims of the seamen had been utterly disregarded by the government ; and though averse to insubor- dination, yet he felt that they had been driven to extremities through the neglect of their remonstrances. But on all occasions in which the most violent counselled outrage, he boldly stood forward to counteract and oppose their schemes, and by appeals to those who only sought to obtain redress of grievances he was generally successful ; especially in one instance, when Sir Alan Gardner, Sir John Culpoys, and Sir Maurice Pole, came on board the Queen Charlotte, to hold a conference with the delegates. Sir Alan, a rigid disciplinarian, who had been extremely irritable throughout the proceedings, was so exasperated by a fresh demand, that he swore at the delegates as " A set of mutinous dogs," and declared he would " have every one of them hanged — together with every fifth man in the fleet." The circumstance spreading through the ship like wildfire, the after-part of the main- deck was crowded by hundreds, ready to support their leaders. The sturdy admiral gave them a look of defiance, and shouting " Make a lane there !" spread his hands out on each side to force his way to the entrance-port — nor was he sparing of blows. Frank had witnessed the whole of the pro- ceedings, and now saw with apprehension, that a number of the most violent characters were closing in upon Sir Alan. In all commotions, Ben and the black made it a point to keep near their young officer, aiidL N 178 GEORGE CRUIKSHANKS OMNIBUS. at this moment they were close to him. Frank spoke to the seaman, who passed the word to Sambo, and then all three rushed forward ; Ben exclaiming, " Avast there — don't go for to touch the admiral !" Num- bers of the better-minded caught up the impulse, and followed the three, who cleared a road for Sir Alan to retreat ; Ben and the black levelling the opposition. The admiral got down the side into his boat, and imme- diately shoved off for the shore. Sir Alan Gardner did not forget this timely aid of the young mid- shipman, for on Earl Howe coming down to settle the disputes, Frank was appointed to steer Sir Alan's barge ; when the noble earl and his countess, accompanied by several persons of distinction, embarked to pay an amicable visit to the ships at St. Helen's and Spithead. It was a most interesting spectacle ; the barges of the men-of-war each carrying its delegates assembled, on a May morning, and pulled in for the sally-port. The men were dressed in their best clothes, and the most perfect order and regularity was preserved, whilst the seamen on board the ships were anxiously watching them, for rumours were current that the earl had brought down the required proclamation, ensuring a general pardon. On landing, the delegates proceeded to the governor's house, where they had an audience of the earl, and an affecting scene it was. The venerable nobleman in his seventy-second year — his head silvered over with age and arduous service, and arrayed in the uniform in which he had so nobly main- tained British supremacy on the ocean, received the rebellious seamen graciously ; and it was curious to observe the downcast and schoolboy looks of many of the hardy tars, who, but a few hours before, were in open and daring mutiny. But when the noble admiral, in the affectionate language of a father to his children, exhorted them to obedience and sub- ordination, and even shed tears, as he declared that a continuance of the mutinous proceedings would break his heart, the rough dispositions of the seamen gave way, not in childish weakness — no ! they evinced their stern emotion in habits peculiar to themselves, though it was evident every soul was moved. There stood their chief who had led them on to victory, subdued by the weight of calamity which had threatened his country. After partaking of refreshment, in which the bold tars were waited upon by female youth and beauty, a procession was formed, and Earl Howe and his lady, with the admirals and captains, several accompanied by their families, walked to the sallyport. During the interval Frank had proceeded to the Royal Sovereign's barge ; and when first recognised, he was pointed out as the midshipman who had been instrumental in resisting the indignation of the Queen Charlotte's men, and rescuing Sir Alan Gardner, and numbers of the dis- affected loudly expressed their disapprobation. Ben held the distinguished post of coxswain to Lord Bridport ; but as a lieutenant was expected to steer Earl Howe out to the fleet, he had resigned the rudder in the Queen Charlotte's barge, and stationed himself at the stroke oar. The moment the honest fellow saw the feeling that prevailed against his officer, he addressed the boat's crew in a few energetic words, appealing to them who knew the merits of the midshipman, as a smart officer, but a seaman's firm friend. FRANK HEARTWELL; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. 179 It was a day of joy and reconciliation ; and they felt it ; for whilst the tumult against Frank was increasing, the bargemen of the Queen Charlotte simultaneously approached him, and having given a hearty cheer, he was hoisted on the shoulders of two of the stoutest amongst them, and in procession with the Union Jack in front, they carried him to and fro the beach, amidst the reiterated plaudits of thousands who had collected to witness the embarkation. This demonstration from his shipmates was enough ; the bargemen of the other men-of-war were satisfied ; and those who but a few minutes before had been loud in their anger, were now equally vociferous in their praise. In the midst of their joyousness, Earl Howe and the delegates reached the sallyport, and instantly the boats were manned ; and as they shoved off, and formed in order, the roars of the saluting cannon and the shouts of the populace mingled together in one vast burst of enthusiasm ; and as the boats neared the ships, their armed sides poured forth responsive peals — the yards were manned — and joy sparkled in every eye. Frank acquitted himself with great dexterity throughout the day, and all differences being adjusted with the seamen, they returned to the shore, where Earl Howe landed, about seven o'clock in the evening, and was carried on the shoulders of the delegates to the governors house. Thus peace and harmony were restored to the Channel fleet, which put to sea on the following day, to meet the enemy. Frank had now been three years away from his mother, without seeing her ; and though they frequently corresponded, he earnestly longed to visit her again. The capture of an extremely valuable ship from Senegal, in which Frank was placed as second prize-master, afforded him an oppor- tunity of returning to England, and as on her arrival at Portsmouth she was ordered to proceed up the Thames to Deptford, he now was enabled to repair to Finchley. It would be impossible to describe the young midshipman's feelings as he approached the cottage. Helen was for the moment forgotten : he opened the door, and in a few moments was in the embrace of his parent. The interesting scene was not unobserved, for in a remote part of the room sat a young lady, a gratified but agitated spec- tator of all that passed. As soon as the ebullition of joy had subsided, Mrs. Heartwell called her visitor to remembrance, and Frank and Helen met — at first with a degree of embarrassment, for they had in their memory pictured each other as they had last parted, nearly four years before, when both were in the gradual advance from childhood to maturity. Frank was then but a youth, but now he appeared the full-grown man, and seldom could there be seen a handsomer, or more candid countenance. Now he saw Helen before him in the perfection of female beauty, just entered upon womanhood ; and yet both heart and features were the same, for as soon as the first few minutes had flown, reserve was banished and they conversed with ease as old acquaintances. In private retirement the young officer learned from his mother and Mr. Unity Peach, (who came purposely to see him, and to grumble at all that he had done) that Brothers, the supposed prophet, had been apprehended under a warrant from the privy council ; and after careful examination by two able physicians, had been declared insane, and placed n2 180 GEORGE CItUIKSHANK's OMNIBUS. in Fishers Lunatic Asylum, at Islington — that nothing had been heard respecting Brady, who it was supposed, had quitted the kingdom for ever. The young people had now frequent opportunities of seeing each other, and every interview served to strengthen the ardent attachment which both cherished, but neither of them confessed. A little incident, in which Frank had relieved Helen from an importunate and insulting mendicant, who had intruded upon the grounds, first opened the eyes of Mr. Wend- over. The merchant loved money, and he had, in a great measure, set his heart upon aggrandising his name and family, through Helen's union with a man of rank and opulence. Without leading her to think that he was aware of her regard, he spoke to her on the subject of Frank's attentions, gained a full and perfect knowledge of her secret, and ascertained that in no instance had Frank addressed her in what is termed the language of love, nor had at any time openly avowed his affection. Mr. Wendover at once acquitted both Mrs. Heart well and her son of sinister and dishonourable conduct ; but his own line of procedure was determined upon, and he resolved to remove his daughter without delay to an estate he had recently pur- chased on the coast of Cornwall, where he trusted that absence would effect a change in the bosom of his child. Great was the consternation of the young officer, when on his next visit he heard of their sudden and unexpected departure ; and his impassioned and incoherent expressions when it was announced to him, betrayed the state of his heart to his mother. It was the first disappointment of the kind he had ever experienced, and its suddenness had overpowered him ; but the reasoning and remonstrances of his parent restored him to more tranquil feelings. She encouraged him " to persevere in his profession, and by gaining an honoured and distinguished name, he perhaps might remove the bar which parental authority had seen fit to interpose between them." " You are right, mother," said he with firmness. " I will yet prove to Mr. Wendover that I am not unworthy of his daughters regard." The prize he had come home in was condemned, and the prize-crew were removed to the guard-ship at the Nore ; but Frank obtained leave to pass a few days at Finchley previous to his joining them, and the indulgence thus extended was a source of great relief to his irritated feelings. A night or two before his departure, he was awoke by a strange noise. At first he conjectured it might be caused by rats, and he endeavoured to compose himself to sleep again ; but the sounds were so continuous and harsh, that after some time he rose and looked out at the window, when it instantly ceased. He stood for several minutes, earnestly gazing towards the splendid mansion of Mr. Wendover, his thoughts wholly absorbed by remembrances of Helen ; and when he again laid himself down, sleep had utterly departed. In a few minutes the strange noise was renewed. Frank listened, and the hollow grating sounds seemed to be caused by some one scraping the outer wall of the building. He arose, and wrapping his cloak round him, crept noiselessly down to the door — the knocking on the building still continued, but ceased as 'jfiafw iffiazzJayds ,Auv/A'ti/ty #& /m*M& Londoa. Tilt fc Bogie , Vleet Street, r FRANK HE ART WELL; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. 181 he undid the fastenings, so that when he stood in the open air every- thing was again still. He had descended without his shoes, which he returned to put on, and then walked round the cottage and through the garden, but nothing whatever appeared to elucidate the mystery. The next night he was aroused again by a noise rather more dull and heavy; as the rear of the building seemed to be the place of operation, he crept down to the back-door, and rushed out just in time to see a man jump down from a ladder reared against the gable-end. The intruder sprang over the wall and escaped. "Without removing the ladder, Frank determined to watch ; and though once or twice he fancied he could perceive a commotion amongst the foliage of the adjoining plan- tation, yet he remained unmolested till broad daylight, when he ascer- tained that the intruder had been working with a pick, to loosen several bricks in a part of the wall that was covered with ivy, and at a few feet below the eavings. A little reflection prompted Prank to further search ; and by removing the thick mantling ivy he discovered that, at some period or other, an addition had been made to the side of the building, and that there was a considerable space between the outside and the in. His curiosity was strongly excited — the apartment he had slept in appeared to be everywhere the same ; but on sounding round it, he ascertained that the part next to that where an attempt had been made to open an aper- ture, was of stout wood-work, carefully covered with the same papering as that which was on the other walls of the room. He was not long in deciding what to do. Seizing a tomahawk, which had formerly belonged to Ben, he cut down the partition, and taking a light, passed through the opening he had made into a long narrow room that ran the whole depth of the house. Surprised as he was at this dis- covery, his wonder was still more increased, when ranged in various parts he observed several strong cases and boxes. On his right appeared an iron-bound oaken chest, on the top of which lay a cushion now damp and mouldy, but it was evident that it had formerly been used as a sort of seat or couch, as a table was close to it, bearing a lantern, a wine-glass, an inkstand with a pen in it, and remnants of writing-paper much torn by vermin. Suspended against the wall above the table were a brace of handsomely-mounted horseman's pistols, a dragoons sword, a blunderbuss, and a bunch of rusty keys, whilst beneath was a stone bottle containing a small quantity of ardent spirits, and an empty wine-bottle. In other parts were books and papers much defaced, and the writing scarcely legible, whilst in one spot upon the floor were four or five canvas bags, part of the contents of which (guineas) had escaped through holes gnawed at the bottom, and now lay glittering before the eyes of the young officer. In the floor of this room was a trap-door, which Frank raised up, and perceived there was a ladder beneath, down which he descended, and found himself in an apartment of the same dimensions as the one above, but more lofty, and a strange sensation crept over him, as he beheld what looked like coffins piled one upon the other, but on examination proved to be arm-chests, painted black, and containing muskets and bayonets. There were also several barrels (which Frank, from experience, knew at once to be powder-barrels), placed apart by themselves ; and the head of 182 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S OMNIBUS. one of them having been beaten-in, a quantity of ball-cartridge became- exposed ; — in short, with pistols and sabres, and the necessary accoutre- ments, there was good equipment in arms and ammunition for several hundred men. From this room a flight of stone steps, slimy with reptiles and the damp, led into a kind of cellar, having in one corner a very large copper, and at a short distance from it a deep well ; whilst broken worms and shattered liquor-casks, with the remains of various implements, offered, proofs that an illicit distillery had formerly been carried on here. On one side was a vaulted underground passage, arched over, that was nearly filled with rubbish ; but Frank, following its apparent direction in the garden, ascertained that it led to a stable (which was seldom used) at some distance in the rear of the cottage ; and here he found that attempts had been made to break through a doorway that had been bricked-up, and an opening formed, large enough for a man to get through, but the arch- way having fallen in, and the passage completely stopped, further progress had been prevented that way. Frank and his mother consulted together as to the best course to be pursued ; and Mrs. Heartwell recommended her son to go and apprise Mr. Wendover's steward of the discovery. That individual promptly attended, accompanied by a legal agent, who informed the young midship- man that he had no claim whatever to the property, which belonged as a matter of right to the lord of the manor, and he accordingly took possession for Mr. Wendover ; and before his departure, Frank saw the whole deposited in security at the Hall. HOW TO RAISE THE WIND. BY CAPTAIN MARRYAT, R.N. The votaries of Fashion are considered heartless. Can they well be otherwise, when they worship a deity so remorseless and so unfeeling ? Fashion not only ruins her own followers, but she is continually plunging into poverty and distress those who know nothing of her until they find that through her means they have become outcasts, deprived of their means of subsistence, and that their children are crying for bread. It is no matter how trifling may be the alteration which has been enforced by this despotic goddess, this is certain, that that alteration has been the cause of misery to hundreds ; and if the step taken by her is one of magnitude, not only thousands, but whole towns, nay provinces, on the Continent are thrown from want of employment into misery. The town of Woodstock is one proof, out of many, how severely a community may suffer from change in fashion. The gloves formerly made there, and the manufacture of which had become a trade and means of livelihood to so many large families, are now no longer worn. The people had been brought up to this trade, and were not competent to any other, until they had begun anew and learnt one in their advanced life. Woodstock was once a flourishing town ; now it has dwindled into comparative obscurity. Thus it has been, thus it is, and thus it will be with many more ; for Fashion ever changes, and every change is accompanied with a petty revolution, HOW TO RAISE THE WIND. 183 attended with distress, which her votaries, glorying in their close attend- ance upon her car, either never hear of, or which, if heard by them, is received with nonchalance and indifference. I have been drawn into the above remarks in consequence of my whole story depending upon an article which is now no longer to be seen — indeed, I may add, is no longer to be mentioned but in a circuitous manner. Why this extreme squeamishness has latterly taken place I really cannot imagine. A garment is but a garment ; and as we may talk of all other garments used by either sex without fear of offence, why should this one have latterly fallen into disgrace ? At all events, I must either mention this unmentionable article, or not tell my story. I have, therefore, only now to give due notice to all ladies who may already surmise what the article in question may be, that now is the proper time for them to close the book, or to skip over to the next contribution, for my narrative is wholly dependent upon a pair of them. I remember when I was a boy, I should say about forty years ago, when this article of dress was considered not only to be indispensable, but also indispensable that it was made of buckskin. It was worn high up, reaching to the chest, met with a very short waistcoat ; add to these a blue coat and metal buttons, and the hair well powdered, and a fashionable man of 1800 stood before you. There were inconveniences attending buckskin; but when Fashion dictates, her votaries overcome all obstacles ; Pride knows no pain, is an English proverb, met by one from the opposite side of the Channel, II faut souffrir pour tire belle. The difficulty of getting into a pair of these articles, after they had been cleaned, was con- siderable ; and when they became wet, they were anything but comfortable to the wearer. However, they have passed away, and this country has gained by their disappearance ; for the leather out of which they were made came from the Continent, and the wool of this country has now occu- pied its place, in the cloth trousers which have succeeded them. And now to my story. Before railroads were dreamt of, and people were satisfied with eight miles an hour, there was a certain person at Liverpool, who had gone down there on some sort of speculation or another ; but whether it was to purchase cotton, or to attend the races, or to do a little business in any other way, does not exactly appear. This, however, is certain, that his specula- tions, whatever they might have been, failed, and that he found himself in the widest street in the town with exactly one guinea left in his pocket. One guinea would not pay his fare to London, whither he had decided upon going. He was, therefore, left to his own resources ; that is, the resources of an ingenious mind, to help the one-pound-one, which was in his waistcoat-pocket. It was not until he had walked up and down the long street for at least the tenth time that he came to any resolution : at last he slapped his buckskins, as much as to say / have it, and walking on a little farther, he looked at the clock which was in the coach-office, crossed the street, and went over to the hotel, which was directly opposite. But I must now describe the appearance and dress of the person in question. He was a man of about thirty-five years of age, of handsome 184 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S OMNIBUS. exterior, tall, and well made ; he wore powder, a white cravat, a blue coat, very short figured waistcoat, and the articles in question, to wit, a pair of buckskin inexpressibles, to which must be added a pair of whit8 top- boots. He had also a surtout-coat, of fine cloth, over all, but which was unbuttoned when he entered the hotel. In short, he appeared to be a dandied, rakish sort of gentleman of the time, with a look and manner implying that he had plenty of money to spend, and did not care a fig for anybody. No one could have ever imagined, with such an external appearance, that he had no more than one guinea in his pocket. Our gentleman walked into the coffee-room of the hotel, and took his seat in one of the boxes, with an air of pretension. In an authoritative tone he called the waiter, and when the waiter came, he called for the bill of fare, which was humbly presented. Our gentleman ran down its contents. " I'll have a bit of fish, waiter, — which do you recommend to day ?" '* All good, sir ; but cod and oyster-sauce just in season." " Well, then, let it be so, with a broiled chicken and mushrooms. If I recollect right, you had some good wine here once ?" " Yes, sir — we have the same bin now — the port you mean, sir?" " Yes, the port ; tell Mr. I forget the landlord's name." " Mr. Bansom." " Very true ; — tell Bansom to let me have a bottle of his best, and a pint of good madeira for dinner." " Yes, sir. When will you have your dinner ? " " As soon as it can be got ready. In the mean time get me a news- paper." In due time the dinner made its appearance, and ample justice was done to it by our gentleman. After the cloth was removed, the port wine was produced, and this he appeared determined to enjoy, as he remained at table sipping it until every other person who had been in the coffee-room had quitted it, and he was left alone. He then poured out the last glass, rang the bell, and demanded his bill. It was all ready : — £ s. d. Fish 2 6 Fowl and mushrooms 5 6 Madeira 4 Port . I 7 Total, including extras . . .14 6 " Not dear, I must say," observed the gentleman, after he had read the bill ; " I must patronise this house again. The port is really good wine ; I knew it again directly, — £1. 4s. 6d. — half-a-crown for the waiter, £l. *Js." ^hen the gentleman put his hand into his right waistcoat pocket, and felt for his purse, found it not there, so he inserted his other hand into his left waiscoat pocket, no purse there. — " Hum," says he, with surprise ; down went his right hand into the pocket of his buckskins on the right side, no purse there ; down into the left, even to the bottom, no purse there. — " The devil !" exclaimed he, feeling his coat pockets, as a last hope — both empty. " Why, waiter, I've left my purse ! " exclaimed he, rising up from his seat ; " and now, I perceive, I've not my watch and seals. I must have left them both on the table. You don't recollect me — what must I do V HOW TO KAISE THE WIND. 185 " If you please," replied the waiter, respectfully, coming to the point, " yon must pay your bill." "Of course I must," replied the gentleman; "I cannot expect you to trust me ; what can I do ? I must leave you something in pledge." " If you please, sir," replied the waiter. " What shall it be — my surtout coat ? I can spare that." " Yes, sir," replied the waiter, who surveyed his coat, and was satis- fied j "that will do." " Well, then, help me with it 'off. On second thoughts, I do not think I can let you have my coat, I have suffered so dreadfully with the rheu- matism in my shoulders. I dare not, upon my soul, I daren't ; you must have something else. What shall it be — my boots, my new white top- boots r " I think, sir, you couldn't well walk away in stockings without getting cold and rheumatism," replied the waiter. " Very true, what a fool I am ! but so unaccustomed to be placed in so awkward a position, I do believe I've lost my senses — to give my boots were madness. I'll tell you how it shall be, waiter, I'll give you my buckskins — bran new — worth two pair of boots ; I shan't miss them if I walk fast and button up." " As you please, sir," replied the waiter. After a deal of trouble, the buckskins were in the hands of the waiter ; our gentleman pulled on his boots again, buttoned his surtout close in front, and promising to redeem them faithfully by his servant the next morning, quitted the hotel, holding himself very erect, that no opening in the front of his surtout should discover that he was minus so very important and indispensable an article of habiliment. Our gentleman did not walk very far ; he crossed the street and entered the hotel which was opposite to the one which he had just quitted, and from which he knew that the coaches went to London. Again he walked into the coffee-room, took his seat without his defi- ciencies being perceived, and calling the waiter, said to him — " The coach starts from this hotel to London, I believe?" " Yes, sir." " At what hour?" " At half-past five exactly, sir." " Well, then, I shall take a supper and a bed ; and here,"" continued he, throwing his guinea down on the table, " book me an inside place by the name of Mr. William Baring." The waiter had heard of the name before, and bowed respectfully. " Any luggage, sir ?" '* No, I took my place this night by the mail, and was compelled to stay on important business just as I was getting into the coach. My luggage w 7 ent on, I shall find it when I arrive. 1 ' Our gentleman ordered a good supper, and at half-past ten requested to be shown to his bed-room. " Boots," said he, " recollect you call me at half-past four exactly, as I am hard of waking. Don't forget ; and if you don't see me getting up in five minutes, rouse me again." 186 GEORGE CRUIKSHANKS OMNIBUS. " Yes, sir," replied the Boots. At half-past four the Boots made his appearance with a lanthorn,. and after some considerable shaking, our gentleman roused up and sat by the side of the bed. The Boots had lighted the candle, and stood by. " Yaw — aw !" said our gentleman, shaking himself and yawning. " How horrid it is to be up before daylight. Ah, well ! Boots, give- me my stockings.'" " Yes, sir." The stockings were slowly dragged on. " Now then Boots, my buckskins.'" The Boots turned over the other garments, looked here and there, and upon every chair; at the foot of the bed, and in the bed, under the pillow, under the bolster. " I can't see no buckskins, sir." " Pooli, nonsense ! man.'" Another useless turn round the room. " Well, I'm sure, sir, I cant see them." " How very odd!" exclaimed our gentleman; "perhaps I'm sitting on them.' , He rose, but there were no buckskins under him. " How excessively strange ! You didn't take them away with you when you took the boots, did you?" " No, sir ; I never corned into the room. You put your boots out- side." " So I did, now I recollect ; but still the buckskins must be found." Another ineffectual search of five minutes, during which our gentleman gradually showed that the serenity of his temper was ruffling, till at last lie became in a furious passion. " By heavens ! this is too bad : in a respectable house, too. Boots, go up to your master, and tell him I must see him immediately — say immediately, and without delay — Mr. William Baring — recollect, in- stantly 1" In a few minutes the landlord of the hotel made his appearance, half dressed, and not very well pleased at being compelled to turn out at such an unseasonable hour ; but the name of Baring had been mentioned, and was not to be trifled with. " You wish to speak to me, sir ?" " Yes, sir, I do wish to speak to you. I came here last night, having been obliged to give up my place in the seven o'clock mail, in consequence of pressing and important business which detained me. I booked myself by the fast coach, supped and slept here, desiring that I might be called in good time, as my immediate return to London is important. On my being called and getting up, I found that somebody had stole my buck- skins — that's all — nothing more. My buckskins — buckskins, sir, have disappeared ! " 44 I'm very sorry, sir — very sorry ; can't imagine how. Some mistake,. I presume," stammered the landlord. " My buckskins are gone, sir, and no mistake," replied our gentle- man. " I considered this a respectable honest house, sir, but it appears " nOW TO RAISE THE WIND. 187 This attack upon the respectability of the house made the landlord angry — it was a sore point. " My house is respectable, sir — always has been respectable, sir — always will be, I trust. No gentleman ever lost his buckskins here before, sir. What they brought they have always taken away !" " Why, sir 1" exclaimed our gentleman, in a towering passion, " what do you mean to imply, sir ? Do you suppose that a gentleman would come here without such an indispensable article of dress?" " No, sir, no," replied the landlord, who cooled down as his adversary became excited ; " I didn't mean to say that, sir." " Then you'll just hear what I have to say, sir," replied our gentle- man : " I'm not to be robbed in this barefaced way ; — and the credit of your house, sir, is gone ; for as soon as I arrive in town, I will write a letter to the Times, Chronicle, Herald, Post, and Morning Advertiser, stating the whole of the infamous transaction, and sign it with rny own name, sir — with my own name ; and then we shall see how long you are in a position to rob the public in this way. Yes, sir, and my lawyer shall send you a letter, as soon as I arrive in town, for an action of damages and recovery, sir." Then our gentleman walked rapidly up and down the room, his skirt waving to and fro as if it was as much excited as himself. " I'm very sorry, sir — very sorry," said the landlord ; " but, sir, I have a pair of double-milled trousers which I think would fit you, so as to enable you to go to town, until the buckskins can be replaced." u Double-milled ! thank you, sir. You appear to consider my loss as only amounting to a pair of buckskins, Mr. Landlord ; but who, sir, is to repay me the forty pounds and upwards, in bank-notes, which were in the pockets of my buckskins — heh ! sir?" This was, indeed, a new feature in the case, which the landlord did not expect. " Forty pounds odd, sir!" exclaimed the landlord. " Yes, sir, forty pounds. Let me see, forty-four pounds exactly. Now, sir, is that money to be forthcoming ? — in one word, sir — there is no time to lose. If I miss the coach, I post all the way to town at your expense, as soon as I have procured something to put on. The house of Baring can't go to town in its shirt — the house of Baring will be revenged, sir — your treatment is past bearing, and — I give you five minutes to decide." The landlord did decide. The buckskins had disappeared — the credit of his house was at stake — the house of Baring was his enemy — there was no help for it. The double-milled and £45 were handed over — the wrath of our gentleman was appeased— he even, before he slipped into the coach, promised to patronise the hotel. The coach had been on the road about six hours, when the waiter stepped over to his chum, the waiter of the hotel opposite, to tell him what a shindy there had been about a pair of buckskins ; the other waiter produced the buckskins left in pledge ; and on their description of our gentleman, no doubt was left but that, although not probable, it was very possible that a gentleman could come into an hotel without his inex- pressibles. 188 GEORGE CRTJIKSHANK'S OMNIBUS. The landlord was almost frantic at having been so imposed upon ; but, as usual in all such cases, he soon made up the loss incurred by our gentleman's visit to the hotel, by charging it upon those who came there, not only with buckskins, but with money in their buckskins- pockets ; and thus ends my story of " How to raise the Wind ; or, the Buckskins." A PEEP AT BARTHOLOMEW FAIR. " Out, out, brief candle ! " — Macbeth. Something whispers us that we should here commence moralising, that we should first expatiate on the nothingness of worldly gaud and greatness — enlarge on the changefulness of human prospects, and discover to our readers' view the myri- ads of blanks with which that fraudulent jade Fortune dilutes the few prizes she dispenses from her wheel. But then again, another something whispers us, we had far better get on with our subject, and we think we had. Be it known then, that ever since a certain morning, (Anno Domini something,) when our nurserymaid walked us through Bartholomew Fair, and showed us all the pretty things, and treated our little palate to one or two of the nice ones, we have felt a remarkable passion for fairs — Bartholomew fair in particular. We will adventure to measure our love for it against that of its tutelar saint — but alas ! we forget — it has no tutelar saint now ; he has long since turned his back upon it. Yes, when prosperity went hand in hand with it, when joy, mirth, and splendour, were its friends, then could that faithless guardian — but, we must commence again, this is too moral — too moral by half. Once more then. It was the last day of Bartholomew Fair, and from some unaccountable cause, we had not been near the spot. But it was not yet too late. We bustled up at the thought, hastily pinned our handkerchief inside our hat, emptied all our pockets — save one, divested our person of watch and jewelry, (for we hold it heinous to encourage picking and stealing,) and then hurried out in the direction of Smith- field, resolving in the plenitude of our joy to visit ever}- show, have a ride in every swing, take a chance at every penny turn, roll the marble down every tower of Babel, and pink with every winning needle, for the sake of lang syne. Five years had we been away from England — five years had we been absent from our own dear Fair ; and yet, how well we remembered our last walk over the same ground, about the same hour, and on the same errand. What pleasure it was now to see that so little change had taken place in the streets ! There, stood the old oyster- rooms exactly the same as ever ; yonder, was the public-house beside the gateway, just as dirty, just the same people at the doors, just the same noise within as when we last passed by. There was even the same crooked old pnst at the corner. Recollection seemed as it were to shake hands with these objects as old familiar friends, and we pushed on with even yet more joy in our bosom, and ardent ex- pectation in our heart, to the great — the Prince of Fairs. Our heart leaped for joy as we shot past a little shop, displaying drums, dolls, kettles, portable tea-services, singing cuckoos, bow-wow poodles, and armies of soldiers barracked in flat deal boxes, with a background of whips, scratchers, trum- pets, squeakers, diminutive culinary apparatus, and Waterloo- crackers : we say, our heart leaped for very joy at the sight ; but it leaped no more that night, for, from that moment disappointment marked us for her own. There now insensibly crept upon us strange forebodings and presentiments that all was not right, for although close upon the fair, we felt no wonted squeeze, heard no confusion of tongues, saw no confluence of people all driving and pouring up the road to one point. No announcements of hot green peas, fried sausages, cooked eels, or other Bartholomew delicacies, came wafted on the breeze; — no ginger-beer stands, corn-plaster venders, brass- sovereign sellers, or spiced-elder-wine compounders, lined the street : the throng was even less than we had seen upon an ordinary cattle-day. We A PEEP AT BARTHOLOMEW FAIR. 189 grew frightened ; and rushing forward, peeped into the fair itself. In that peep, the thermometer of our joy fell full five hundred degrees below zero. Why, where are the shows? where are the swings? where are the turn-abouts — the round- abouts? where are the people ? where, where is the Fair ? But down, struggling feelings, down, and let me write calmly. In 1 841 there were but two shows in the Great Bartholomew Fair ! We now walked up the gingerbread walk — the only gin- gerbread walk. Time had been, when our first act was to store a pocket with the best spiced nuts, for until we had eaten a few of those little cakes, we never felt ourself in the fair ; but now, we hadn't the heart to taste one. Nor nuts nor any gauds had charms for us. We gazed with a pitying eye on all. We saw black ruin hovering over and already darkening Sinithfield's grandeur — we beheld destruction suspended only by the last weak thread of custom, which Time with his scythe, or pocket- scissors, was about to sever, to the extinction, the total annihilation, of our own — our beloved fair. In consequence of the prohibitory price asked for the lawful groundage, two shows had been forced to take unfurnished lodgings in Hosier-lane. This, was indeed a blow ! To see two, old, aboriginal exhibitions — one miscella- neous, the other mechanical, with waxen kings, clock-work queens, and spring- wire princes, barbarously driven from their native fair — unhappy refugees, and sojourners in narrow- streets and Hosier-lanes! Rumours there were too, that one other miserable exile had sought an asylum in a neighbouring farrier's shop; that there, in the front of certain festoons of dirty red cloth which veiled an ugly forge, the pincers, hammers, anvils, and other appurtenances of farriery, wizards were manufacturing puddings in the company's hats, causing real beer to stream from any given part of any little boy,and pulverising watches in mortars, as choice ingre- dients for soup ; but we lacked curiosity to go and test the truth of such reports — these shows were not in the fair, therefore over us possessed no magic influence. With a heavy heart we next sauntered by the groups of stalls, whereon were spread various fruits and seductive viands — articles of savour for such as were edaciously disposed ; but nobody seemed hungry ; people passed and repassed, and scarcely glanced at the temptations. True, oysters appeared somewhat in demand, as did certain vinegary relishes in tiny white saucers, but as to the more substantial boiled tripe, fried fish, pigs' feet, pickled salmon, &c, none but the smallest boys approached the stalls, and they, not to buy— only to enjoy a look. The very cries of the doll and toy women, as they recommended this article or that to the dreamy by-standers, seemed muffled with sadness ; and the gipsy gambler who was cast- ing dice upon an old tea-tray, and relieving one or two dirty-faced urchins of their farthings, seemed to be realising scarcely sufficient to pay for the flaring candle which lighted his dishonesty. We now stood opposite Wombwell's menagerie. This was the star, the Hyperion of the fair — it stood out bright and undaunted as in happier times — it was the last gallant upholder of poor Smithfield's dying splendour. We admit that there was a crowd before this show, but it was not a Bartholomew-fair crowd. There was wanting — that pulling, that pushing, that hallooing, that hooting, that screaming of women, that shrieking of children, that treading on toes, that losing of shoes, that knocking in of hats, that demolishing of bonnets, that crying for help, that squeez- ing of ribs, that contest between "stream up" and " stream down," which there always was in days of yore. Such, do we remember as the features of a legitimate Bartholomew crowd; whilst from the surrounding shows, there thundered the clanging of gongs, the firing of pistols, the springing of rattles, the bellowing of speaking trumpets, the ringing of bells, the crashing of horns, with fiddles, bag pipes, cymbals, organs, drums, and the hoarse voices of the showmen, all uniting and confusing into one loud, discordant, ceaseless roar — Oh ! happy, thrice happy days! To the left of the mighty Wombwell. like some tributary satellite, was a smaller — very much smaller show — a sort of domestic multum in parvo — a wee locomotive ark, as it were — into which, on some curious principle of condensation, the ingenious proprietor had compressed a dwarf, an Abyssinian princess with vermilion eyes and snow-white hair, a living skeleton, a remarkably accomplished pig, and several other monstrosities — exclusive of drum, barrel organ, household furniture, and his family. Over the doorway of this accommodative cabin swung 190 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S OMNIBUS. an iron dish, in which flared some grease and oakum, that threw a dull flickering light upon the portraiture above the van, which represented, among other things, the ruby-eyed princess combing her silver locks in the presence of company, the dwarf poised in a giant's hand, and the Crichton of pigs engaged in a game of cards. On the steps of this exhibition, dressed in a green velveteen shooting-coat with large moon buttons, and a red shawl wound about his neck, stood the pro- prietor himself. From top to toe he looked the showman ; but the care upon his brow — the spiritless voice in which he reminded the scant mob about him of its being the last night of the fair, and exhorted them not to neglect the golden opportunity of witnessing his pig, dwarf, -O l>\ l*A Li: o 218 SKETCHES HERE, THERE, AND EVERYWHERE. BY A. BIRD. A STAGE-COACH RACE. Poor Macadam ! his honoured dust will soon be forgotten ! In cities it is buried, or soon will be, in wood ; and few of the millions who glide and slide over the wooden pavement, will think of the " Colossus of Roads," whose dust it covers like a coffin. Our course is no longer " o'er hills and dales, through woods and vales, v which the many-handed Macadam made smooth and easy. Our carriage, placed like the toy of a child, goes without horses. The beautiful country — the cheerful " public," with its porch, its honeysuckle and roses — the sign which bade the "weary traveller rest'" on the seat beneath the spreading elm; — these are no more ! — This is the iron age — fire and steam are as the breath of our nos- trils — we speak by the flash of lightning — we have given life to emptiness, and fly upon the wings of a vacuum — our path is through the blasted rock, the cold dark dreary tunnel — through cheerless banks, which shut us from the world like a living grave — on — on — on — we speed ! The dying must die ! The burning must burn ! There is no appeal — no tarry- ing by the way. Like the whirlwind we are hurried to our end. The screech of women in despair is drowned by the clash, the din, the screech of the "blatant beast," the mad monster which man has laid his finger on, and tamed to his uses. This is all very fine, and, doubtless, ilfaut marcher avec son siecle, if we do not wish to be left behind in the race that is before us. Doubtless, too, our children, like calves born by the side of a railroad, will look on these things as a matter of course, and let them pass with high-bred indifference. And if, as most assuredly will be the case, some of these children should become mothers in due course of time, we can fancy them so philosophized by force of habit, so inured to the wholesale smashing and crashing of the human form divine, that, should a door fly open and let an infant drop, the mama will sit quiet till the next station cries Halt ! and then merely request that a man and basket be despatched to pick up the pieces left some seven miles off ! * " Chi lo sa ! " as the Neapolitans say in cases of extreme doubt and difficulty ; " chi lo sa" say I ; and having been born before the earth was swaddled up in iron, or the sea danced over by iron ships, I confess a sneaking fondness for the highways, and byways, and old ways of old England ; and, when not pressed for time, I delight in honouring the re- mains of poor old Macadam. A fortnight ago, having occasion to visit Somerset, I found myself * Not long since a man, heedless or drunk, fell asleep upon a railroad ; the train ar- rived, and literally cut him to pieces. " I suppose, sir, we had better get the man together ? " said a labourer, soon after the accident had occurred. " By all means," answered he in authority. Death is but death, we allow ; but death by the railroad is not only wholesale but frightfully terrific. To avoid the chance of such accidents, when pos- sible, is an imperative duty, and every road which crosses a railroad should be over or under it. We need only refer to two recent accidents caused by the want of such pre- v ention. SKETCHES HERE, THERE, AND EVERYWHERE. 219 en route y at Cheltenham — a place, by the way, which always reminds me of miscellaneous articles stored in a second-hand shop ; it is sure to come into use once in seven years. There I was for the night, luxuriously lodged in this Anglo-foreign town, this self-styled "queen of watering- places,", this city of salt — or salts, as some malicious pluralists will have it — there I was, and long ere morning broke, I had decided upon cutting the rail and coaching it to Bristol ; in other words, as time was not an object, I would not go some fifty miles round to save it. I was soon seated by my old friend, " coachee." . Coachee was a character sui generis, of a race which will soon be extinct ; I had known him in the " palmy days " of the road, and remembered the time when he, with his pair, was selected to tease and oppose the prettiest four-in- hand that ever trotted fourteen miles an hour. It was, if I'm not mistaken, in 1832, that "The Exquisite" first started from Exeter to Cheltenham, and weighing the coach, the cattle and coachman together, never was a turn-out more worthy of the title. To oppose this with a pair was a bold conception, but " coachee " was an old stager ; " what man dared do" he dared, and did it well. " Strange changes, Mr. Coachee, since you and I first knew eacli other," said I to my right hand friend, as soon as we had cleared the rattle of the stones. Coachee turned his head slowly round, and looked me full in the face ; he drew in such a sigh, and put on such a look of miserable scorn, that I felt for the silent sufferer. Yet was I dumbfounded by his silence ; I had looked for the jibes and jests which were wont to put us outsides in a roar, — but to see " coachee." turned into a man of mute sorrow, was a character so new and unnatural, that — extremes will meet — I burst into a hearty fit of laughter. Coachee attempted to preserve the penseroso, and with ill-feigned gravity tried to reprove me, by saying, — " You may laugh, sir, but it's no joke for us as loses." With what tact I could bring to bear, I revived the memory of former days, the coachman's golden age ! I spoke of " the Exquisite," and asked if he did not once beat it with his pair. " So you've heard tell of that, have you ? " And Alexander never chuckled half so much to hear his praises sung, as coachee did at the thoughts of his victory. I told him I had heard of it from others, but never from his own mouth, which was half the battle. There needed but little persuasion to make him tell his own story. " It's all as true as I am sitting on this here box, and this is how it came to pass. It was one Sunday evening that some of us whips had met to crack a few bottles. ' The Exquisite' had just been put upon the road, and who should be there but Mr. Banks as drove it, and who should be there too but I as was started to oppose it. Well, it so happened I hadn't a single passenger booked inside nor out, for Monday ! Well, thinks I, Mr. Banks, if I and my coach can't give you the go-by to- morrow, I don't know inside from out, and so I told him. ' That's your opinion is it, Mr. Bond V said Mr. Banks, with a smile, and a sniff at a pink in his button-hole. * Yes, Mr. Banks,' says I ; * and what's more, I'll stick to it, and here's a sovereign to back it.' Will. Meadows, him as used to drive the ■ Hi-run-dell,' he thought he'd do me ; so he claps down his bit of gold, and the bet was made. There's an end of that, said 220 GEORGE CRUTKSHANKS OMNIBUS. I, and now, Mr. Banks, let's have a bumper. ' Here's to you, my Exqui- site,' says I, as we bobbed and nobbed. 'Here's to you, Mr. H-opposition,' says be, and I hopes you'll tell me the time o' day to-morrow morning/ But he didn't think I should for all that. Well, now, sir, what do you think I should find when I goes the first thing on Monday morning to our office?" " Your H-opposition coach and a pair of horses ? " said I, inquiringly. " Right enough, so far, — but what think you of finding four ins and eight outs, all booked for Bristol ! Well, thinks I, Mr. Banks, this alters the case, and my sovereign felt uncommon light all of a sudden. How- somever, up I gets, and, says I to my box-companion, you won't mind if I goes a little fast, will you ? ' Mind I ' said he, ' why, you can't go too fast for me.' He was one of the right sort, d'ye see, and enjoyed the fun as much as me. ' All right ? ' says I ; ' All right,' says Bill, and away we goes. I got the start, for in those days ' the Exquisite ' was sure to load like a waggon. Away I went, with such a pair ! they stepped as if they hadn't got but four legs between 'em ; and, up to Gloucester, Mr. Exquisite's four tits couldn't touch 'em. Now, as ill-luck would have it, it wasn't my day for ¥ the Bell,' so while I turns out of the line to change at the Booth Hall, up comes 'the Exquisite' and gives us the go-by : there warn't no help for it, but what aggravated me the most was, to see Mr. Banks tip me a nod with his elbow, as much as to say, ' Good bye till to-mor- row ! ' What was worse, two of my ins was booked for Gloucester ; and what was worse again, they was both ladies. Now, ladies — bless 'em all for all that ! — but ladies and luggage are one, says I, they never goes apart; and such a load of traps I never see'd, with a poll parrot, and a dozen , dicky-birds for a clincher ! Well, there warn't no help for it. — Come, Jacky, my boy, says I, give a hand with them straps — there — now t'other — all snug ? — off with you ! — And Jack soon found the wheel warn't meant for a footstool — off he leapt — the ladder fell into the gutter, and away we went at last. We couldn't touch 'em that stage — no wonder neither, for there never was a prettier team before me, and that 'ere Exquisite chap — though I used to call him ' Mr. H-opposition' — handled his ribbons like a man. The dust was light, and I tracked him like a hare in the snow. He never lost an inch that day — there were his two wheel-marks right ahead — straight as an arrow, and looked for all the world as if ruled with a — what do ye call them 'ere rulers that walk after one another \ " I hesitated for a moment, and then hit upon — a parallel ruler — " Aye, to be sure. Well, his two tracks looked for all the world as if they'd been ruled with a parable ruler ; but for all that, we got a sight of him before he changed again. ' Now or never ! ' thought I, for I could do as I liked in those days, as one man horsed the whole line. ' So,' says I to our ostler, ' you go and clap the harness on the bay-mare, while I tackle these two ; I've a heavy load, and wants a little help.' No sooner said, than done. ' Now, my pretty one,' says I to the little mare, ' you must step out for me to-day, and it's in you I know.' So I just let my lash fall like a feather on her haunch, and, for the life and soul of me, I thought she'd have leapt out of the harness. * All right, thinks I, I have it now ; and bating twelvepence, my sovereign's worth a guinea. SKETCHES HERE, THERE, AND EVERYWHERE. 221 " We wasn't long a coming up, and when ' Mr. H-opposition 1 saw my pair with the bay mare a-head, he didn't like it, you may be sure of that. Well, I let's him take the lead that stage. We wasn't long a changing — a wisp o' wet hay to the little mare's nose, and away she went again as fresh as a four-year-old, and ' the Exquisite ' couldn't get away from us no more than a dog from his tail. " ' Ah ! ' says Mr. Banks, as I puts my leader alongside of him, ' is that you, Mr. Bond ! have you been coming across the fields ? I didn't think to hear the time o' day from you, Mr. Bond.' ' Didn't you ?' says I. ' No,' says, he ; * shall I say you're a coming into Bristol ? ' . " Before I could say yes or no, he gave the prettiest double cut to his leaders with one turn of his hand, that ever I see'd — they sprang like light — whish ! whish ! went the double thong across the wheelers. — He warn't a second about it all, and while I looked, he was gone like a shot. Though I didn't like it much then, I must say it was the cleanest start I ever clapped eyes upon, and ne'er a whip in England couldn't say it warn't. ' No chance that stage,' said I, growing rather impatient ; we warn't far behind for all that — -and now, thought I, comes my turn — play or pay's the word — for I knowed my country ; leaders down hill ben't no manner of use, quite contrawise; a coachman has enough to do to keep the pole from tickling their tails, and hasn't much time for nothing else. The little mare had done her work, and away we went with such a pair ! They'd ha' pulled the wheels off if I'd 'a told them ; they know'd I'd got a bet as well as if I'd said so, and away they went the railroad pace." " What I " asked I, " before railroads were thought of ? " Coachee always had his answer — " What if they war'n't ? — no odds for that — we got the start of them that day, and, maybe, they took the hint — worse luck too, say I — but away we went — it was all neck-and-neck — first and second — second and first. If Banks beat, up — Bond beat, down — till at last 'Mr. H-opposition' see'd how the game was going, and that he hadn't a chance ; but he wouldn't allow it, not he. So he pulls up and calls to his guard, and tells him to put the tackle to rights, though there war'n't nothing the matter — and lets me go by as if he wasn't beaten. So, as we passes, I pulls out my watch and tells him the time d day ! * and, Mr. Banks,' says I, ' what shall I order for your supper ? ' " As coachee wound up the tale of his by-gone victory, it brought on a fit of laughter, which I began to think would never end ; when, on a sudden it ceased, and with horror and consternation painted in his face, he exclaimed, " Well, bless my heart alive, that ever I should live to see such a thing !" "Where ! what !" said I looking right and left, and almost expecting to see some wonderful beast pop over the hedge. M Well, now, it hasn't got no outside, and" — after a pause — " no, nor I'm blest if it has any inside ! " I guessed his meaning by this time ; but affecting ignorance, I asked, " What is that wonderful animal without any inside ? " " Animal ! " he exclaimed, " why, don't you see the poor old Exquisite a coming by itself?" " There is a coachman," said I, as gravely as I could. " Poor Banks !" said coachee, quite touched with compassion, and heedless of my remark. He pulled up, so did the Exquisite. GEORGE CRUIKSHANK S OMNIBUS. " Well, now, I'm blest, if this isn't worse than solitary confinement, it makes my stomach ache, Mr. Banks ! " (A poet would have said, " my heart" \ but depend upon it, coachee meant the same thing.) " A bad day's work, Mr. Bond, but we can't expect no otherwise now," said he of the once "palmy" Exquisite, yet looking more cheerful than might have been expected. " A sad change, Mr. Banks. Why, that 'ere near leader looks as if it hadn't strength to draw your hat off." " You're about right there, Mr. Bond, but," — and here the flash of humour of brighter days lit up the features of Mr. Banks, — " but do y'ou know what the Tories are going to do with us old coachmen ? " Mr. Bond shook his head, and murmured — " Not I ! " " Well, then, I'll tell you, Mr. Bond : they're agoing to plant us for milestones along the railroad." Another fit of laughter came on, and it was with difficulty that Mr. Bond could articulate, " Good bye ! good bye ! " as we drove on our course to Bristol. ANOTHER CURIOSITY OF LITERATURE. The Knocker aches with motion ; day by day The door groans on with hard and desperate knocks ; Duns — gentle, fervent, furious — come in flocks ; And still they press, and still they go away, And call again, and saunter off, or stay ; Duns of all shapes — the goose, the wolf, the fox — All punctual by their several parish-clocks : And still the answer is the same — no pay ! Alas ! that house one penny doth not hold, — One farthing were not found, on hands and knees, No, not a doit, in all its crevices ; Yet sits the Inmate, cramp'd, arid lean, and cold, Writing a pamphlet;— and its title ? " Gold ! Or, England's Debt paid off with perfect ease." 223 A HORRIBLE PASSAGE IN MY EARLY LIFE. " Make the most of your school-days, my lad ; they'll be the happiest of your .life!" So said a kind friend, who called on me once when I was in that state called pupillaris. He gave me the advice, and I grinned approval ; he did not give me a " tip," and I considered him a me m and despicable wretch, and his advice not worth listening to. Still did the words oft recur to me ; and with especial force did they recur, on the subsequent Saturday, when I was preparing to "avail myself of a kind invitation" to dine and sleep out, and was packing carefully up, in a crumpled piece of Belts Life, (which, in the capacity of fag, I had appro- priated as a perquisite from my master's store,) such necessaries as such a sojourn demanded. And the result was, that as my nose inhaled the undeniable evidence of the approach of dinner below, and I felt the pleasing conviction to an empty stomach_-that, until seven, at least, / should not hear the apoplectic butler assert, in voice abdominal, that dinner was on the table, I gave a long sniff, and sighed, "Well! perhaps they are!" I had got at last dear of the city. My pocket was devoid of coin — of the lowest even, else should I have called a cab, (for in those days neither Shillibeer nor G. O" had started a "bus.") As it was, I walked, and was just entering Piccadilly, from the Circus, when a laugh in my rear made me turn rapidly, and my'eyes encountered — a tall butcher's boy! He was habited in a grey frieze coat v corduroy smalls, and blue apron. His hair was well plastered down. He had no cap ; but he had a pair of " aggravators* trained on either temple. His eyes were large ; his cheeks beefy ; and withal, he carried on his shoulder a tray, and it carried — ugh ! a large piece of liver ! That I saw then. An inde- scribable awe spread through my frame— my feelings were what the wretch behind me would have called "offal." I knew, as though by instinct, that I had in Piccadilly seen, what Napoleon saw at Acre — the man who should mar my destiny ! Abstractedly, there is nothing absolutely and inherently vicious in a butcher's boy ; on the contrary, he may be decidedly virtuous — nay, we have in our mind's eye cases which would go far to prove that high moral integrity and humanity of sentiment are quite compatible with his most necessary trade. Is it then asked, why this individual should excite at once in my boyish bosom such lively feelings of horror — such forebodings of evil ? I can give no more reason for it than did my friend Grant, (who tells such jolly stories,) for declining to show his box of silk- worms to an inquiring friend. " Grant! just let's have a look at your silk-worms — there's a good fellow!" — "No!" — "Why not, man?" — "Because not!" My answer must- be similar in spirit, if not in letter. I knew that the odious indivi- dual was destined to be my evil genius for the day. But to my tale. The owner of the large optics — the bearer of " the tray," returned my gaze. Its result as to any favourable impression of my personal appearance on his mind seemed doubtful. He merely remarked, however, " Veil, you are a nice swell for a small party, you are !'' I walked on. The observation set me contemplating my admirable bluejacket, with its neat row of buttons ; my exceedingly pleasing waistcoat, and pantaloons of black ; my large white collar, and unexceptionable shirt-front ; not to mention the Oxford shoes, and the beaver hat, which, on a pretence of excesdve heat, and after the manner of elderly gentlemen in Kensington Gardens, I took off, that my eyes might be satisfied that it was all right. The result of the scrutiny was a feeling that the remark of the wretch (who might or might not be following — look round again I dared not) was not only quite natural, but, taking the word " swell '' in its better acceptation, quite consistent with the truth. On, therefore, I walked, and by the time I reached Sackville Street, became tranquil again. Now, to all London peripatetics the print-shop at the corner of that street must be well known. It was at this identical place that I made a halt, and a determina- tion at the same time to have a regular jolly good look at all the pictures (for by 224 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S OMNIBUS. St. James's it was now only two o'clock); beginning, in the orthodox way, with the last bar of the u . airy" up Sackville Street, and " the Norwich mail in a thunder- storm ;" and gradually proceeding to the last bar up Piccadilly, and an earnest scrutiny of some stout gentleman in spectacles, who always will stand at the end of a print-shop window, to prevent one's satisfactorily finishing everything. "How uncertain are all sublunary things!" — " All that's bright must fade," &c, are remarks which one occasionally meets with in the works of English authors, and is very apt to treat with contempt. Yet who can predicate at two o'clock that he shall be happy at a quarter past ? I had, in the prosecution of my plan, got half-way down the railings in Sackville Street, and had arrived opposite a peculiar pane of glass, wherein, as in a mirror, my own happy face, and the especial whiteness of my shirt-collar, were revealed to my gratified vision. I had just given the last-named a gentle pull up, and was smiling in the consciousness of " youth and grace, and " — in short, I was satisfied with myself— when — " Veil, I'm blowed if you an't precious sveet on that 'ere phiz o' your'n, young un ! " I turned in horror. Close behind me there stood a butcher's boy — the butcher's boy ! (there was but one in London that day) — those eyes — those corduroys — that tray ! I shrunk within myself — I almost wished that the bar I stood on might give way and admit me into the "airy." I mechanically uttered some deprecatory expression, scarce conscious of anything but the existence of a butcher's boy, with large eyes, and a tray ! "Veil, Turnips !" (I had light — very light hair) " vot are yer a looking at now? — a com-paring that ugly phiz o' yourn with a gen'leman's r I felt that the last word conveyed a reproach, and my spirits rose so high as to explode in the assertion, u I didn't speak to you !" "O, didn't yer, Turnips? — veil, just take that, then; and never mind the change ! " His hand was raised rapidly to his tray — a dark substance rose high in the air. Blash ! it came — all over my face — my collar : the cherished collar ! My eyes sought the pane wherein so lately I had gazed with pride. " One dark red stain" was too visible. I felt then, and knew, that I had had my face slapped — literally slapped — with a piece of liver I The criminal on the gallows, exposed to the groans of the brutal mob, may feel as degraded (no one else can) as I did, whilst weeping I pursued my way. The very red plush smalls of him who admitted me at last into the privacy of a house, from the gaze of grinning thousands, seemed to mock my misery. I dared not go up-stairs. I remained below weeping ; till a kind old lady — whence should relief to the wretched come? — came to comfort me. My face was cleansed from the stain, but remembrance could not be washed away ; I was supplied with a pretty suit from her son's wardrobe — it could not cover my sense of degradation. Even the desired dinner failed to bring the desired oblivion ; and when two elderly ladies who would sing duetts began to practise their favourite one, the words that struck my ears were, " Flow on, thou shining liver! " * * * John Copus. The miscreant author of my woe has not escaped. For in one of his limnings in whose vehicle I ride, there may he seen, with a malicious grin on his face, such as he wore after the consummation'of my woe, contemplating the capture of poor Oliver Twist hy the interesting Nancy, and her ruffian Bill Sikes — a butcher's boy. Note him well — the butcher's boy. Hair — corduroys — and tray I — J. C. *»* Our sensitive and acutely-suffering correspondent who so keenly remembers the woes of his boyhood, has, by the force of his memory, recalled to our own recollection another specimen of the tray-carrying fraternity. We subjoin his portrait, for the benefit of every juvenile diner-out who entertains a horror of liver ! The artist insists that it is a portrait, and no invention. 225 TWO OF A TRADE. With such a dear companion at my side." — Wordsworth. Oh ! marvellous Boy, what marvel when I met thy Dog and thee, I marvell'd if to dogs or men You traced your ancestry ! If changed from what you once were known, As sorrow turns to joy, The Boy more like the Dog had grown, The Dog more like the Boy. It would a prophet's eyesight baulk, To see through time's dark fog, If on four legs the Boy will walk, Or if on two the Dog. Oh pair ! what were ye both at first 9 The one a feeble pup ; A babe the other, fondly nursed — How have ye been brought up ? Oh, Boy ! and wert thou once a child, A cherub small and soft, On whom two human beings smiled, And pray'd for, oft and oft? A creature, rosy, plump and fair, Half meekness and half joy ; A wingless angel with light hair ! — Ohl wert thou, Butcher-boy ? A thing more gentle, laughing, light, More blythe, more full of play, Than e'er he was — that luckless wight ! — u The lamb you stuck to-day ? And thou, O Dog, with deep-set eyes, Wert thou, like Love, once blind ; With helpless limbs, of pigmy size, And voice that scarcely whined ? How grew your legs so like to his, Your growl so like his tone ? And when did he first see your phis Reflected in his own ? Bravely have both your likeness worn ; Alike, without, within; Brethren ye are, and each was born, Like Happiness, " a twin !" Yet can it be, oh ! Butcher-boy, Thou com'st of Adam's race ? Then Adam's gold has much alloy ! — Was this his form and face? Art thou descended from the pair From whom the Caesars came ? Wore Alexander such an air ? Look'd Cheops much the same ? And thou, oh ! Butcher's cur, is't true That thy first parents e'er From Eden's garden lapp'd the dew, And breathed in rapture there ? Yes ! those from whom you spring, no doubt, Who lived like dogs, and died, Must once have follow'd Eve about, And walk'd by Adam's side. LB. 226 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S OMNIBUS. OMNIBUS CHAT. The noble art of boxing made a hit in its day; but it is now numbered amongst the dead or dying, and the art of striking reigns in its stead. Little has been heard of throughout the month but the "strikes" that have taken place at the various public works, among the masons. "Masonic brethren" they have proved themselves, by the secrecy of their communications, and the sympathetic character of their movements. They struck first at the Houses of Parliament, then at Nelson's Monument, then at Woolwich. Not being in want of bread, they refused us a stone. Punctual to a moment, as the Horse Guards' clock struck, they did. Our Omnibus stopped, like the workmen, at Charing-cross. " So the masons at Nelson's Monument are going to strike," said we. " Glad to hear it," rejoined a punning acquaintance, "there ought to be something striking about a monument to him F* The name of Nelson set all our companions talking ; but an " old sailor " (not the) was the first to give his discourse a reportable shape, by relating a little his- torical fact that has escaped history — unimportant, perhaps, but not uninteresting. THE TWO NAVAL HEROES. Everybody knows Tower Hill, but it is not every one we meet with in an Omnibus, who can recollect it as it was fifty years ago, when Steel kept his shop there, and first published the Navy List. However, we cannot stop to speak of him, or his book, nor of the itinerants who were wont to vend their various wares under the trees which shaded the houses in Postern-row ; nor of the pump, which then, as now, was declared to be a very good pump ; nor of the ditch, into which, in that day, many a passenger was tumbled after being robbed and beaten by the thieves and disorderlies — land privateers as they were called, who cruised in the neighbourhood after dark. We do not intend to relate any thing of these, nor of the sundry stout, ill-favoured, savage-looking vagabonds in fearnought coats, who were ever to be found lolling over the row of posts which fenced the eastern side of the hill — the commissioned press-gang, who used to amuse themselves by scrutinizing the passers-by, and now and then by breaking the head of some unfortunate blue-jacket who had incautiously strolled too near their precincts to avoid capture or a fight. We have taken you out of the city, reader, into a district not inhabited by the most honest or well conducted ; but we must still bring you through East Smith- field into Wapping, to a spot a little west of the entrance of the London Docks ; and hereabouts one Richardson kept a slopshop. Early one morning a cheerful-looking hale old man came out of Steel's navigation warehouse, leading by the hand a slender stripling of a lad who carried a chart under his arm, and seemed to regard his companion with the respect due to a patron. They took their way along the same track precisely by which we have conducted you, and parted opposite Richardson's slop-shop. As the man fit was Porteous, the kings pilot J shook the lad by the hand, he ejaculated loud enough to be heard half down the street — " Mind, high water at a quarter past twelve ; I won't wait a minute; be there by twelve !" Old Richardson was at this moment busied about his accounts, and too intent on his occupation to perceive that anybody had approached his counter, until the lad who had entered the shop drew his attention. He wanted some sea-clothing, and tendered a list of check shirts, duck trousers, &c. The articles were exhibited, examined, and approved ; they were to be packed up and sent to the Dundee Arms by noon. The honest chapman recognized the signature at the foot of the order, and the youth took his departure. There was something in the lad's manners and appearance that would have induced an observation upon the choice he had made of a profession so full of danger and difficulty ; and the slopseller was once or twice about to address his OMNIBUS CHAT. 227 young customer on the subject, who however gave him no opportunity of entering upon it. The lad gone, the shopkeeper resumed his employment at his books, and, as he turned over leaf after leaf, accompanied the process with certain verbal remarks which a pen he held between his lips rendered somewhat indistinct; at length, laying down the implement and adjusting his spectacles, he pondered over the contents of the page, and after a pause exclaimed — "Ah! I do remember, about the same time in the morning too. Let me see — watch- coat — fearnought trousers — pair of boots — sword-belt — he was rather ardifferent looking chap to the lad that came just now; a hard-faced, smart-built, bold dog he was— fine eye; snapped at me as I showed him the things— sent 'em to Water-lane, but never got the money ! Early customers differ otherwise than in looks; this pays, that don't — but it can't be helped ; if they are not all — let's see, what's the lads name," (and here he re-examined the order that had just been left with him) "ay — Horatio Nelsons, they are not all Paul Joneses' — And these two widely distinguished heroes, reader, were the customers between whom old Richardson drew a comparison*. Nelson, and the modern navy, and Napier, and ship-building, and discipline, and improvement, were the changes rung for some time, until at last somebody adverted to a peculiarity of the Jack Tar which may be discussed under the title of TAR AND FEATHERS. The sailor must have his joke in defiance of danger and death. When Cornmo- dore Anson took Panama in 1742, his men clothed themselves over their jackets and trousers in all the gay apparel they could collect. They did the same at Capua under Nelson ; and the hero, elevated on .a cask in the grand square, and surrounded by motley groups of masquerading tars, drank rich wine out of a golden goblet to the toast of " Better times to us." In 1805, the brave Yeo, then a lieutenant of the Loire frigate, with a mere handful of men, stormed the heavy fort of El Muros, near Finis- terre, and carried it at noon-day. Having de- stroyed the fortification and sent off the stores, the seamen arrayed them- selves in the immense Spanish grenadiers' bear skin caps and accoutre- ments, and all black and dirty with their labour, rowed off in this state to the ship, to the great amuse- ment of Captain Maitland and the hearty approval of their shipmates. Many, other anecdotes of a similar kind might be related; and now it appears, by recent accounts from China, that Jack is still pursuing his old game; for it is related that at the destruction of several war-junks in the neighbourhood of Canton, the English seamen arrayed themselves in the spoils of the enemy, and figured away in mandarin caps and tunics, and the curly-toed shoes of the China- men ; nor was the essential tail wanted ; for many of the bodies were divested of this ornament, which Jack being in a " cue " for humour, suspended at his own back, occasionally raising it in a coil, and offering to take a messmate in tow by it. * The reader may use his own judgment as to the chronological accuracy of the fore- going tale. It is a fact that Jones and Nelson were both equipped by the same person, Richardson, and that the king's pilot took Horatio down to Wapping for that purpose. GEORGE CRUIKSHANKS OMNIBUS. We did not break up our little Naval Board without mentioning impressment, and a thing called the cat ; the word was no sooner out, than it operated like the morning-gun in " The Critic," and off went the following : — AN AC^TALECTIC MONODY ! A cat I sing, of famous memory, Though catachrestical my song may be ; In a small garden catacomb she lies, And cataclysms fill her comrades' eyes ; Borne on the air, the catacoustic song Swells with her virtues' catalogue along ; No cataplasm could lengthen out her years, Though mourning friends shed cataracts of tears Once loud and strong her catechist-like voice It dwindled to a cateall's squeaking noise ; Most categorical her virtues shone, By catenation join'd each one to one ; — But a vile catehpoll dog, with cruel bite, Like catling's cut, her strength disabled quite ; Her caterwauling pierced the heavy air, As cataphracts their arms through legions bear ; 'Tis vain ! as caterpillars drag away Their lengths, like cattle after busy day, She ling'ring died, nor left in kit kat the Embodyment of this catastrophe. — V. D. L. " A play on words," said Mr. Cavil, (who happened to be our guest on this occasion), " a play on words, sir, is a pretty thing in its way ; and I'm perfectly well aware that the public expect you to be jocular (as if there were nothing cheerful in seriousness). I know, too, that it's quite impossible to please every- body. But still, sir— still I think a little gravity now and then, eh? — a little gravity. I don't conceive that you give your attention sufficiently to science. Something scientific now — " Mr. Cavil was not allowed to conclude; we had anticipated his want; we had already turned our thoughts that way, and could fortunately plume ourselves upon the presence of one of the illustrissimi of science, who forthwith illumined our humble vehicle by a transcendent and exclusive report of the , THIRD MEETING OF THE BRIGHT-ISH ASSOCIATION FOR THE ADVANCEMENT OF EVERYTHING. Section A. — Mathematical and Physical Science. President — Prof. Cycloyd. Vice-Presidents — Dr. Spectrum & Major Fork. " On an Experiment of Interference." By Inspector Jones. The author stated, that one night he had observed a gentleman employed in experimenting upon the tintinnabular powers of bells, as produced by voltaic action communicated through copper wires ; the end of the wire being conducted into the open air, and the point defended by a brass knob. Feeling interested in the prosecution of this experiment, the author immediately proceeded to the spot to make inquiries into its success ; but when within two paces of the experimentalist, he had suddenly received so severe a shock that he was stunned for the moment. When he recovered from its effects, the gentleman was gone. This he particularly regretted, as he much wished to have discovered the power which had produced the shock that prostrated him ; but as he had observed another gentleman a short distance behind him, he supposes that he, being an assistant of the experimentalist, was engaged in generating the galvanic fluid, which, passing from him to the one in connexion with the brass knob, (from thence to be communicated to the bell through the wire,) had produced the shock described — the author's body intercepting its flow, and thus being in a state of interference. OMNIBUS CHAT. 229 " A Comparison between the Results given by Rain-gauges and known Facts with regard to Lachrymatose Precipitations." By Dr. Daw. The object of this paper was, to point out the connexion which exists between the quantities of raimreceived on horizontal surfaces, at different heights above the ground, and the quantity of lachrymal vapour condensed into tears, also at different heights ; and showing that, in both cases,* the less the elevation the greater were the quantities. Thus, a rain-gauge, four feet from the ground, will intercept less than one on the ground ; and a child o£four feet high will produce less than one two feet high. *' On the Expression of Unknown Quantities." By Prof. Muddelwitz. A method of expressing unknown quantities by known formulae has long been a desideratum in mathematical science. This process the author stated he had discovered ; for that the fractions of coefficient indices, when used to express the powers of differential equations, are always capable of being solved into pure algebraic roots. Thus, if in an infinitesimal series/ in which p, o, o 2 — t — t 2 are unknown given quantities, a, a 2 , and e, known, and the value to be limited, the equation stands as follows : — 1. ax- 2. 3. a 1 X p o fi = t, o, e. t o e + a — pot* V a— pot* + a u —t oe Thus the generalization of the equation of x, to the n th degree, gives its fraction in the form of an algebraic root. [To some readers the above demonstrations may seem rather obscure ; but as the late Dr. Dundertop, in his treatise on the Perspicuous, clearly explains — " Ephpnxmqzomubh grudcnkrl, hqmpt on kronswt."] We were all thrown into a state of such intense dumbness, such complete torpor, by the profundity of these scientific researches, that everybody tacitly admitted the appropriateness of the next subject ; it was a case of still-life which met our startled eye the other evening, in the form of a pair of RUM CORKS IN STOUT BOTTLES. On our table stood, not one, but two " black bottles," two bottles that had held " Cork stout" — two we saw. without seeing double. The corks had already been drawn, but upon them were two faces distinctly visible, which we re- solved to draw likewise; and as the pencil wound itself about, we seemed to hear the following dialogue, in a sort of screw-like tone : — "Arrah, Paddy now, «hd where are you from ?" " Sure I'm from Cork." " Cork is it ? meself." fait den it's from Cork I am " Not such terrifying images, sir," said a nervous visitor, who trembled like Keeley in the old drama of the Bottle Imp, "not such terrifying images as that family of phantoms, that assemblage of the blues, which you conjured up in your last number. You might well call them " frights." I'm sure I've felt all over 230 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK S OMNIBUS. like the Derbyshire turnpike-man ever since ; but I'm not at all afraid of those two bottle conjurors there." The allusion to this mysterious Derbyshire pike-man produced inquiry, and we were all forthwith reminded by our agitated companion, of a midnight scene— A HIGHWAY ADVENTURE which was lately recorded in the public papers. It appears that when Van Amburgh travels, the large elephant goes on foot in the night, attended by four East Indians, men of negro com- plexions, in white dresses, — three of them riding on the elephant's back, and one on his tusks. One night as they were passing over Worksop forest, the party arrived at a toll-bar that was closed. The call " Gate" was raised, and out came the toll-keeper in his nightcap. Now it is sus- pected that this unfortunate individual had been long an- ticipating the coming of a gentleman in black, whose name is never mentioned to ears polite ; for observing the -monstrous and unlooked-for spectacle that then presented itself to his drowsy eyes, he, instead of opening the gate, was so terrified, that he ran back into the house, exclaiming in frantic tones, " He's come at last!" " Frightened at an elephant," cried Mr. Cavil, with a profusion of pishes ! " At an elephant merely ! I wonder if he ever saw a young lady — young ladies such as I have seen ! I was never afraid of a woman while she wore her hair turned up, powdered, pomatumed, and frizzed like my mother's and grandmother's ; but only imagine the terror of a sensitive mortal on encoun- tering a specimen of the fashions of the present day; on meeting a sample of the feminine gender, who, not satisfied with milliner's ' whiskers,' >must ex- hibit to the affrighted gazer a face 'bearded like the pakd.' Frightened at an elephant ! Bless his five wits ! — if he were only to come to London !" OMNIBUS CHAT. 231 SOME ACCOUNT OF THE LIFE AND TIMES OF MRS. SARAH TODDLES! BY SAM SLY. It is customary with the romancists and novelists of the day to track their heroes and heroines to some mysterious origin,for which purpose they either draw them from the foot of the gallows, or the precincts of the palace, and the jail returns are ransacked, and the old Court Guides dissected, for suitable titles and localities. Thus, whilst one will unkennel his favourites from workhouses, and obscure holes and corners, another finds his pet in the queen's best bed-room, or sleeping in state in a golden cradle. It is lucky for us we are not obliged to run to either extreme. Sarah Toddles' life lies in a nutshell. And here again we cannot help expressing our satisfaction, that we should -be more fortu- nate than those who have to beat about the hedge, and make long speeches, and fill volumes in hazarding and conjecturing respecting nurses and birth-places. There is nothing at all remarkable about the dawning of Sarah ; it was the most simple, natural, straight-forward, and legitimate birth imaginable : there was neither ringing of bells, nor flourishing of trumpets. Mrs. James was the nurse, Mrs. Sarah Gunn the mother, and Mr. Timothy Gunn the father. He was a gingerbread-baker, and lived at Bow — Mile- end Bow — and kept a shop not far from the bridge, and baked " Banburys " as well as " parliament " for the fair. Over the bow-window of this shop, and a little to the left, Sarah first saw daylight, and heard Bow bells — not at that interesting moment, because we have already said the elements were quiet. Sarah was an only child, the gun never went off but once — at least Sarah was the only M living shot." Sarah — our Sally — was born on the same day as the Duke of Wellington, but she could not help that. It seemed a little curious, and somewhat presumptuous ; and her mother, had she anticipated such a result, would no doubt have avoided giving any offence, by forwarding or retarding the business, but she had no friend at court. And, after all, it is doubtful which is most honoured by the fact, his Grace or Sarah Toddles. But such is the course of things. Mrs. Gunn was soon off the stocks ; she was up and stirring ; and Sarah, with unheard of rapidity, got out of the nurse's arms, and from pap to pudding, and pudding to pork ; and soon found out the use of her eyes and feet, and " toddled " into the shop, and tip-toed to the top of the counter, and fingered the " Banburys," and licked the " parliament," and dabbled in the treacle, and painted her face with it, and was shaken and smacked, and all that sort of thing. She became at last " quite a girl," and would run over the bridge, and round the church-yard, and up " Mile-end," and down Old Ford, and through Bow fields, and Stepney church-yard, and all about, till Mrs. Gunn was M frightened out of her wits," and determined to send her to school. Now Bow church was not then as it is at present. In the olden times, or when Sarah was young, there was a market held close in front of it, and over this market was a school, and a Mr. Brown was the master ; and here Sarah was first led into the mystery of letters, and got through " Vyse's New London Spelling Book," and that's all (for her progress, like her genius and her stature, was small) ; so after spoiling many copy-books and green bags, and wearing out many pattens in trotting from the shop to the school, she was ultimately relieved from her studies and her troubles by being taken away. This was good news for Sarah, •* for now she should do as she liked, and have such bits of fun at Bow fair, without being bothered to get her lessons in the morning before she went, when half the day was gone ; and wouldn't she though have some rare games in Stepney church-yard, and look at the tombstones and the fish in the ring ! and wouldn't she often go to the World 's-end tea-gardens, and to Fairlop fair, and Epping forest to get blackberries ! She just would then." And she just did then ; and this was the sunny spot of her life. Now her sun may be said to have gradually declined ; she was no longer a free agent. She was told to " think and mind what she was about," and was kept at home, and enlisted in domestic services (for her parents had no other housemaid), and also assisted in baking and minding the shop. Thus days rolled on ; and Sarah at last be- came a woman — not a very tall one it is true, but still a woman — little and good, " short and sweet." Sarah was thrice married. Her first husband was a Mr. Lightfoot, her second a Mr. Heavisides, and her third, and last, Mr. Toddles — Thomas Toddles. With the first two we have nothing to do, they were dead and buried before we were thought of, and we never make a point of enlarging about parties where we are not asked to the funeral, but we may merely remark for the benefit of the curious, that Sarah Toddles chose them for no particular virtue or accomplishment, but merely for their size ; they all stood four f eet three in their shoes, all were timid men, and all died childless. There was nothing 232 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S OMNIBUS. at all wonderful about either of these courtships or weddings, all was " fair and above- board ;" no rope ladders, no moonlight madness, no Gretna Green trips, no bribings, no hole-and-corner works, no skulking behind kitchen doors or tombstones, or winkings or blinkings in church, no lies, no sighs, no dyings for love and that trumpery, nothing of the sort. Mr. Gunn consented, Mrs. Gunn consented, Sarah consented, and they all consented; could anything be fairer? and what's the use of writing a volume. upon it, as many of our contemporaries might ? But, perhaps, we may be allowed to say a word or two on Mrs. Toddles' last engagement, since at his death we were asked to the funeral. As a baker, and doing a great deal of business for the fairs, Mr. Gunn required assist- ance, and he found a faithful and honest servant in Thomas Toddles. Mrs. Heavisides — our Sally — would often be found in the bakehouse helping her father and Thomas in " setting sponge," as it is termed, and in moulding and shaping buns and Banburys. Could anything be more natural than that words and looks should be exchanged on these occasions between her and Thomas, bordering upon the weather and the heat of the oven, and that this warmth should produce congenial thoughts and sentiments ? It did so ; for Thomas, though naturally timid, had all the arts or nature of an experienced lover. He would run from Buns to Banburys, and from Banburys to Bachelors, and from Bache- lors to Bow Bells, and from Bow Bells to Bow Church, and from the Church to the Altar; he would then not forget to talk about rings, "and thought he knew of one just about her size" — here the oven would burn — "and would she allow him to try one." He would then steal a little nearer, and adopt a few innocent liberties, such as flirting a little flour in her face with his thumb and finger, then wipe it off afterwards with the corner of his apron, and, as a climax, u kiss the place to make it well," my Toddles ! It is not to be wondered at, that these things were a (t decided hit," as the managers have it, and that they should have their full effect, by causing Bow Bells very soon to ring to the honour and happiness of Mr. and Mrs. Toddles. But all that lives must fade, and Mrs. Toddles' troubles now came thick upon her. First, her mother died, soon after, her father, who bequeathed all his " Banburys," goods, and chattels to her and her husband ; and within a very few months Thomas died also. He was unusually busy one night in preparing for Bow fair, where he kept a stall, and over.-exerting himself, caught a cold, was taken to bed, slept sweetly, but over-slept himself, and saw Sarah Toddles no more. Soon after, Mrs. T. wound up the business, sold off her stock and interest, and pur- chased a small annuity. In order to fill up her time, and in some measure to obliterate the past, she volunteered her services in one or two tract and Dorcas societies, where she assists in the making up of those very small articles which she was once in her long- ings led to suppose might fill her own baskets. A great deal of absurdity has gone forth at her expense amongst cads and omnibus drivers, who would not wait even five or ten minutes for her, when at the furthest she was never more than a quarter of an hour behind time, and how few know the cause of all this ! Some have attributed it to an over-solicitude in her toilet, some to this thing and some to that, some to the putting on of those little black stockings, and some to the tying of the velvet shoes ; when, if the truth must be known, it is — Mrs. Sarah Toddles has corns. Some little reminiscence of Mr. Toddles may be required. In height he was about four feet three. His clothes were much too large for him, coming over his knuckles, and over his shoes, with a skirt nearly touching the ground. Moreover he had a mon- strous hat, swelling at the crown, very much boated before and behind, a large mouth, and large eyes. It was curious to see this little couple trotting up Mile-end road towards Whitechapel on a Saturday night, he first, and she after, for a cheap market — he carry- ing a basket and she a bag, which they would fill either from the shops or from the stalls by the roadside ; but before returning, take care to call in at the Blind Beggar for a drop of " summat short," " but strictly medicinally." That very shawl at the back of Mrs. Toddles, and the large parasol, or small umbrella, were presents from Mr. T. one Bow-fair day; she keeps them and wears them in respect to his memory, and will continue to do so through all the changes of fashion. Those stockings were knitted by Miss Toddles, and those velvet shoes made by Timothy Toddles, her dear husband's brother and sister ; in short, she is enveloped and sur- rounded with gifts from top to toe. The arm-chair was a relic of her mother's, the foot- stool was her father's, the bottle Lightfoot's, and the glass Heavisides', and the table Toddles', her last dear Toddles ; the carpet was her cousin's, and the urn her uncle's. But time, like Sarah, is toddling on ; let us hope that she may meet with more civility, and that her end may be peaceful. If we are invited to the funeral, we shall look after her epitaph. *** We beg to state, that though assured of the great respectability of our correspondent, we do not personalty vouch for the authenticity of this Memoir.— Ed. liwflue Crvw/ks^-u^ 80 (^ORGE CRUIKSIIANK^S OMNIBUS. ago,' ses he ; 'and left in his vill* vhen he died,' ses he, * that he vouldn't be buried, not he, but be box'd up in his coffin andhighsted up a-top o' the beams of his " hovel," as he called it; but a barn it is, that s sartain,' ses he. ■ Nonsense,' ses I ; ' you ain't a-going to come over me in that there style vith your gammon.' ses I. « Gammon or no,' ses Tom, ? if you've a mind you may see him yourself,' ses he; leastvays' you may see his oak coffin,' ses he. * Seein's believin',' se s I, ' all over the world,' ses I, ' so here goes;' and up I gets, and Tom, he gets up too, and vun or two others, and ve goes out; and Tom, he catches holdt of a stable lantern, and picks up vun o' them poles with a fork at the end — them things vot the vashervomen hangs their lines upon ven they dries the clothes — and ve valks into a stable-like place as had been a barn, and Tom he hooks the lantern on to the pole, and holds it up, and there sure enough vos the coffin, a stuck up in the roof a top o' two beams. " It's as true as I'm a-sitting here," continued Tyler, as he observel symptoms of incredulity in some of his auditors; "its as true as I'm a-sitting here; and vot's more, you may see it there yourselves in that werry place to this werry day if you like to go as far. Vel, as I vos a saying, I looks up, and ses I, ' I'm blessed if it ain't a coffin,' ses I. c Ay,' says Tom and the others, 'now you'll believe it, von't you?' ' Sartainly I vill,' ses I, * now I sees it; but I'm blow'd if I didn't think you had been a-going on with some game or another,' ses I. " Veil, ve come back agen to the tap, and ve sat there a-talking over that there old man and his rum fancy of being cocked up there, and vot not, till ve'd had enough, and thought it time to be off; it was then about half-past eleven. So Tom says, ses he, ' I'll show you vhere you are to hang out, Tyler,' ses he ; so he takes me out in the yard and shows me my nest over the stable, and I'm blessed if it -warn't the wery next to the vun with the old man. ' Pretty close company,' ses I to myself, ' anyhow ;' but howsumdever I never said nothink, not I, in case he should think that I was afeerd arter vot he'd a' been saying and that ; so up I goes vith the lantern, up the ladder, but I couldn't for the life of me help a-thinking of old Harry Trigg, (that vos the old feller's name, him in the coffin.) "Vel, how- ever, I turns in at last, and I hadn't been in bed more nor ten minutes at most, ven I heerd a kind of a " "Mercy! what's that!" exclaimed Mary, as the sign-board outside seemed to take part in the tale, and groan uneasily in the wind. " Don't be foolish, Mary,'' said my host, scarcely less frightened ; " what should it be but the old sign ? Don't interrupt Master Tyler again, there's a good lass." "Veil, I heerd a kind of a creak," resumed the speaker, with a scarcely per- ceptible smile, " and 1 listened, and presently I thought I heerd a groan. Veil, I didn't much like it, I can tell you ; however, I thought as it vos all imaginairy like, and vos jist a turning round in my bed to get a more comfortabler position — " " Snuff the candle," suggested Juggles to the blacksmith in a low tone, who did it mechanically, scarcely taking his eyes off the speaker the while. " Vhen I heerd a woice," (here there was a breathless silence among the audi- tors,) '* I heerd a woice, a low woice it vere, say, wery slowly, ' I don't like it.' Veil, •ven I heerd the woice, I gets a bit more plucky like ; ' for,' thinks I, ' arter all it may be some vun in difficulties.' So I ses, ses 1, 4 Vot's the row, sir ? ' ' Tyler,' ses the woice, a'-calling me by name, ' Tyler,' ses he, ' I vish I hadn't done it.' * Done vot ?' ses I ; for since he called me by my name I vos a little quieter. ' Vy,' ses the woice, ' a' got myself cocked up here,' ses he. Ses I, ' Vhy don't you get down then ?' ses I. ■ 'Cause I can't,' ses he. « Vhy not ?' ses I. ' Cause I'm screwed down in my coffin,' ses he." Here a scream, half-suppressed, broke from Mary. " ' My eye !' ses I to myself, and I shook all over — ' it's the old man his- self,' and I pops my head under the bed-clothes precious quick, I can tell you ; for I vos in a bit of a stew, as you may guess. Veil, presently I heerd the old man a calling out again ; but I never answered a vord, not I. Veil, arter that I hears a kind of a rustling and scratching on the t'other side o' the planks close to vhere I vos alaying. * That's him,' thinks I ; ' but he can't come here, that's clear.' ' Cant I tho' ! ' says the werry same woice close to my feet, this time. Oh crickey, * This will was proved iu the trchdeaconr/ of Huntingdon, Sept. 18, 1721. SUCH A DUCK. 281 how I did shake sure-ly at that there. « Tyler !' ses he, calling out loud. ' Tyler,' ses he, * look up ;' but bless you, I never spoke nor moved. * Tyler,' ses he agen, a-hollering for all the vorld as loud as thunder, * John Tyler look up ! or it'll be the vurse for you.' So at that I puts the werry top o' my eyes over the bed-clothes, and there I saw " " What ? " exclaimed the blacksmith and cobbler, under their breath at the same instant. The narrator looked around ; Juggles was leaning forward in his chair, his open hand scarce holding his pipe, which, in the eagerness of his curiosity he had let out ; the blacksmith and cobbler were, with eyes and mouth wide open, intently watching the speaker's face ; mine host, with both fists on the table, was not a whit less anxious ; Mary was leaning on the shoulder of one of the waggoners, with outstretched neck towards Tyler, drinking in every word he uttered ; and the two waggoners, perfectly wrapped up in the tale, stared vacantly at the opposite wall. " What ? " repeated the anxious hearers. Master Tyler took his pipe from his mouth, and puffing out a long wreath of smoke, at the same time pointing with his pipe to the clock, which was just on the quarter past twelve, said — "Nothink! and you're all April Fools!" Alt. 11 SUCH A DUCK ! " Once Venus, deeming Love too fat, Stopp'd all his rich ambrosial dishes, Dooming the boy to live on chat, To sup on songs, and dine on wishes. ' Love, lean and lank, flew off to prowl — The starveling now no beauty boasted — He could have munch'd Minerva's owl, Or Juno's peacock, boil'd or roasted. At last, half famish'd, almost dead, He shot his Mother's Doves for dinner ; Young Lillie, passing, shook her head — Cried Love, " A shot atyou, young sinner !" ** Oh not at me ! "—she urged her flight — "I'm neither dove, nor lark, nor starling!" «< No "—fainting Cupid cried — "not quite; But then — you're such a— duck — my darling ! : L. B. 282 FRANK HEARTWELL; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. BY BOWMAN TILLER. CHAPTER XI. An awful but instructive scene is the death-bed of the guilty. Ship- kins experienced, by anticipation, the agonizing terrors of a future state. Despair took possession of his mind; but it was the despair of the coward who trembles to meet his judge, and not that of the penitent, who, prompted by hope, implores for mercy. He had lived a desperate life of crime, and his hearers shuddered as vivid recollection of the past seemed to flash upon him like sudden visions forcing him to reveal the enormities he had perpetrated. His account, as far as it went, of Lieutenant Heartwell, was briefly this, — that Brady coveted his wealth for the double purpose of enriching himself, and carrying on those treasonable practices in which he was deeply involved — on the day of the lieutenant's disappearance, he had, after the departure of the bank agent, been encouraged to drink — the wine was drugged, and took its full effect. Shipkins had himself per- sonated Heartwell in the hackney-coach affair, having previously stripped the lieutenant, and substituted the naval uniform for his own apparel, — and the evidence given by the ^oachman was perfectly correct. After alighting in Ormond Street, Shipkins crossed over into Great Ormond Yard, where he concealed himself in one of the stables which had been taken for the occasion, having a light cart and horse in readiness to further their schemes. Here he was shortly afterwards joined by Brady with his clothes, for which the lieutenant's were immediately exchanged, the horse was put into the cart, they drove to Lincoln's Inn, and having deposited Mr. Heartwell in it, they conveyed him — still in an insensible state — as well as the notes, gold, and documents, to the very cottage they were then in. Here a sudden spasm seized the dying man — he gasped convulsively — an internal hemorrhage was going on, that threatened suffocation, — and it may readily be supposed, that intense anxiety pervaded every one present. Mrs. Heartwell had listened almost breathlessly, — every word that was uttered made its due and deep impression on her heart — she sat like a statue — no relieving tear started to her eye, for the fever of ago- nised expectation had dried the source of tears — no sigh, no groan escaped her, till the expiring Shipkins stopped, and then extending her hands, as she looked at the contorted and ghastly features of the clerk, her voice found utterance, and clasping her hands in earnest entreaty, she exclaimed, — " Oh, let him not die — hold — hold — yet, a little longer life that he may tell us all. Heavenly Father, in pity spare him, till his conscience is unburthened, and then in mercy pardon his offences." Frank supported his mother, and tried to calm her perturbation, though his own spirit was on the rack, as he now concluded that his con- jectures were correct, and beneath the same roof which they were then under, his gallant father had been murdered. It was a moment of trying FRANK HEARTWELL; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO." 283 suspense to all, and eagerly they watched the surgeon exercise his skill, as, raised up by Ben, the close of Shipkins' career seemed fast approach- ing — they had as yet heard nothing of the lieutenant's fate, nor had any information been rendered relative to Brady's place of concealment, and what had been communicated served rather to excite greater agitation than to allay that which had already been caused. The surgeon had requested every one to remain silent, and the stillness was only broken by himself as he gave directions to Ben, (but even these were given in whispers,) and the struggles of the dying man, who, grasp- ing at the air, as if he would clutch another victim, muttered unconnected sentences. It was an appalling spectacle — loud and piercing was his shriek as he caught Ben's arm, and grasped it with a desperate grasp, as the only stay in life, — wild and imploring was his look as he tried to speak, but the words could not find utterance. It was only for a mo- ment — a yell of agony succeeded, and in a few minutes his limbs were stiffening in the rigidity of death. But what language can picture the distress of Mrs. Heart well and her son, at the disclosure's being so prematurely cut off, and that too in so fearful a manner ! Frank tried to lessen the disappointment and grief of his parent ; but she who had all along cherished hope, now enfeebled by circumstances that had preyed upon her mind, and weighed down by the pressure of the evidence which Shipkins had given, seemed sinking into despair. It was past midnight when the wretched man ceased to exist. No one thought of repose, except the surgeon, who accustomed to witness the flight of the departed spirit, retired to his home ; but Mr. Wendover remained at the cottage, endeavouring to tranquillise the lady's mind. Morning had not yet broke, when the sound of horses' hoofs were heard upon the common ; but they suddenly ceased at the garden-gate, and the bell was violently rung. Frank and Ben grasped their pistols, and immediately went out to answer the summons. The horseman had dismounted, and being questioned, said " he was the bearer of a letter to Lieutenant Heartwell that required instant attention." The letter was handed through the bars — Frank saw that the superscription was addressed to himself, and breaking the seal, he ascertained that the signature was that of Mr. Unity Peach. The letter was characteristic of the writer, and ran thus : — " Sir, — Strange doings — caught sight of Brady last night — pursued (chased, you would call it) — followed him to a house in Hoxton — mad- house — sent for the constables, and put them on watch — cannot enter without a warrant — they will not open the doors. — Hasten hither (bear a hand, you would say) — let us have no delays — the badger is trapped at last, and it will require a good dog to draw him. — The bearer of this will tell you whereabouts to find me. Yours, Unity Peach." There was nothing in this curious epistle that might not be communi- cated to Mrs. Heartwell, and Frank at once related the occurrence, and urged the necessity of his immediate compliance. His mother not only acquiesced, but wished to accompany him, and probably would have done x 2 284 GEORGE CRUIKSHANKS OMNIBUS. so, had not Mr. "Wendover dissuaded her from it. The pony-chaise was put in requisition, but the merchant sent to the Hall for his own post- chariot, in which himself and Frank departed, the messenger riding on before as conductor. A gloomy daylight had opened on them when they reached their destination — a small public-house — where they found Mr. Peach, who was impatiently awaiting their arrival. From him they learned that he had on the previous afternoon been to a lunatic asylum in the neighbourhood of Hoxton, for the purpose of visiting " Brothers the Prophet " (who had been removed thither during some temporary repairs at Fisher's), and did not leave that place till late in the evening, when on passing out at the gates, a man alighted from horseback, his face ashy pale, with a small stream of blood running down it; he was much bespattered with mud, as if he had fallen, and was evidently in a state of great excitement ; the horse, too, appeared to have been ridden hard. Mr. Peach had to draw himself up on one side to allow of his passing, and the porter holding up his lantern in order to ascertain who the visitor was, revealed to Mr. Peach the features of Brady — especially as on observing him there was the strange and peculiar expression of the eye. The first impulse of the detector was to seize the lawyer, but his usual caution arrested his hand, and he suffered him to pass onward, which as soon as he had done, the porter led in the horse, and Mr. Peach having walked out, the gates were closed behind him. Certain of the personal identity, and pondering the circumstance in his mind, the old gentleman determined to watch till some one should pass whom he might employ in sending for a constable, but it was long before any one approached that lonely and dreary abode. At length the horn of the night-patrol (who volunteered for recompense to conduct passengers across the fields) was heard, and Mr. Peach ran towards him and commu- nicated his earnest request that an efficient force might be immediately sent to apprehend a felon who had taken shelter at a residence in the neighbourhood. This was accompanied by a present of money, with the promise of still greater reward, both public and private, if the villain was apprehended. The patrol performed his duty, and in a short time several peace-officers were in attendance, and an attempt was made to gain admission into the house, but without avail ; its iron-barred windows and strong doors set attack at defiance. The constables had consequently been placed upon the watch round the building all night, to prevent escape. Such was the position of affairs when Frank and Mr. Wendover arrived. The merchant resolved to act. in his official capacity, and demand an entrance. They were soon at the doors, and a summons being given, Mr. Wendover explained the object of their visit. The porter, in reply, declared that no person of the name of Brady was there, nor was he at all acquainted with the individual alluded to. " False !" exclaimed Mr. Unity Peach, " saw him myself — went in as I came out last night — muddy, dirty — cut face — know him well." kt That gentleman, sir," replied the porter, " that was Mr. Bartlett, the principal proprietor of this establishment." Looks of doubt and perplexity passed between Frank and Mr. Wend- over ; and the latter, after a short hesitation, remarked, " If that is the case he can have no objection to grant us an interview." FRANK HEARTWELL; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. 285 " 1 fear," returned the man, " that you cannot see him ; he had a severe fall last night from his horse, and is much injured in the head- indeed is now almost insensible." Mr. Wendover once more questioned Peach, and the latter persisted in the most positive manner that it was Brady whom he had seen go in. " Well, then, it is utterly useless delaying," said the merchant ; u and I now as a magistrate demand an entrance : if it is not complied with, I will upon my own responsibility force the doors." " I will consult my superior," said the porter, returning from the gate. In a few minutes he returned, and stated that he was directed to give free admission to the magistrate, and a few whom he might select to accom- pany him. A strange feeling came over Frank as he entered this abode of tortured spirits ; for the mad-houses of those days were seldom inspected, and many a victim to avarice and villany had been confined within their walls*. The secrets of the " prison-house " were never disclosed, for the unhappy creatures were incarcerated for life ; sometimes they would indeed be driven mad, but death alone gave them release from torment. A respectable-looking elderly man met the party, and after apologies and explanations, announced that " Mr. Bartlett's injuries from his fall were very serious, and throughout the night he had been labouring under an attack of brain-fever, which he hoped was subsiding, though he was still subject to restraint." " I have only the furtherance of justice in view," said Mr. "Wendover ; u he has been sworn to in the most positive manner, and I must see him." " The appearance of so many persons may be hazardous to his exist- once," replied the other submissively ; " if it is a mere matter of identity, more than two or three will not be required." The arrangement was made, and Mr. Wendover, Mr. Peach, and Frank, were conducted through several. passages, till they arrived in a part of the building where the most violent maniacs were confined ; here in an apartment, whose entrance might have almost defied detection, they beheld a man in a strait- waistcoat, stretched upon a mattress upon the ground with two keepers in attendance to awe him into subjection. His countenance was haggard and flushed, and there was a tiger-like ferocity in his look, that claimed but little semblance to humanity ; he was still raving, and his wild unnatural laugh thrilled with horror through the frames of the visitors. Mr. Wendover and Unity Peach were the first to enter, but he took no notice of them. Frank followed; and the moment he was visible, the individual whom they had come to see drew himself up as if his whole frame were withering with sudden blight, and he convulsively and hissingly drew his breath, like one who has suddenly been plunged into cold water. " What ! there again?" muttered he, as he fixed his gaze on Frank, whose strong likeness to his father, and in the naval uniform too, had induced a belief that the spirit of his victim stood in his presence ; whilst the pecu- * It is a strange anomaly in the present law, that, where two or more insane persons are confined, a license is required for the asylum ; but if only one person is so confined, the keeper does not need a license. This might be remedied without touching private houses. GEORGE CRUIKSHANK S OMNIBUS. liar rolling of the man's eyes instantly betrayed that Brady was before them ; " but," and he laughed wildly, " I defy you — the judge cannot take the evidence of the dead." He raised his voice — " Hence — depart, I say — no earthly tribunal can take cognizance of your oath, and so far I am safe." He turned to Peach and demanded — " Who and what are you ? — how came you here? — who has dared to let you in? — speak — who are you?" Slowly Mr. Peach removed his hat and wig, and the patch from his eye. " I knew I was right," said he : " Brady, do you know me now ?" M Well, well," returned the lawyer quietly, " this is kind of you, too — more than I expected — but how did you find me out — come, come, friend Shaft, sit down ; we will not heed yon spectre," his aberration took another turn. " Ha," he shouted, " it is you who have betrayed me, old man ; traitor ! monster ! it is you who have denounced your friend. Acteon Shaft, I defy you to the very teeth." " It is enough that you now recognise me," responded the other ; and turning to Mr. Wendover, added, "You may perceive, sir, that my infor- mation was correct." Brady's ravings and struggles became dreadful ; the attendants could with difficulty hold him down till overwrought nature brought a crisis, and he sank in strong convulsions. The young lieutenant's feelings it would be impossible to describe, as he looked upon the supposed murderer of his father, and fears began to arise that he should again be deprived of the information he so earnestly desired. An hour elapsed before Brady was recovered from his fit, which left him weak and exhausted, but restored to consciousness and to a sense of his perilous situation : still the inveterate and hardened criminal was unsubdued, and retained all the craftiness of his character. Mr. Wend- over addressed him in energetic language. Frank earnestly implored him to reveal all he knew of the fate of his parent, but the wily man " denied all knowledge of the lieutenant beyond placing him in the hackney-coach." " Shipkins has been taken," said Mr. Wendover, " and he has con- fessed— ?" " What, what has he confessed ? " eagerly demanded the lawyer ; and then slowly added, M His confessions are worth nothing ; I do not fear them ; leave me to myself, and let the law take its course." " Brady ! Brady !" exclaimed Unity Peach, now revealed as the celebrated Acteon Shaft, through whose means government had been enabled to defeat the treasonable designs of the disaffected, " do not, do not go into the presence of your Maker with a lie upon your tongue. Tell us what became of Lieutenant Heartwell. You have not long to live, why should you refuse this act of justice to those whom you have so deeply injured — they have discovered the concealed property ?" *' Ha," uttered Brady, like one struck with mortal agony, " question me no further; I will not answer you." He looked towards one of the attendants inquiringly, and the man made some sign in return, but both were scarcely perceptible. 44 Is there nothing will prevail with you," said the young officer in deep distress ; " will not a mother's tears — the supplications of a son — " QruiKs^C J/%6 ^/s ! r ■ FRANK HEARTWELL ; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. 287 " Nothing, nothing," doggedly returned Brady, " you have the pro- perty ; your father you will see no more. Hah !" he shrieked and started, fixing his blood-shot but rolling eyes at an aged-looking man, who was standing in the door- way. " Hah ! what ! again betrayed ? — 'tis he — 'tis he himself, and no delusion." The look of every one present was turned upon the object of the law- yer's terror. " It is, it is indeed he," uttered Acteon Shaft with deep emotion. " Frank, it is your father." There cannot be any necessity for relating what ensued as Frank fell himself in the embrace of his long-lost and affectionately-mourned parent ! Nor can it be required of me to tell the delight of Mr. Heartwell's spirit as, restored to freedom, he gazed with pride upon the handsome features and manly appearance of his son. Those who have hearts alive to nature, have already pictured the whole, and my task is spared. Mutual recognitions and hearty greetings for several minutes drew away attention from the wretch who had caused such long-protracted misery. On again turning towards him, he was in the same position, but his glassy eyes were fixed as if bursting from their sockets — he was dead. CHAPTER XII. From the moment of her son's departure, Mrs. Heartweli suffered in- tensely from anxiety and suspense, which Helen, who had come to stay with her, endeavoured to relieve. It was about noon when the party returned, and there was upon the countenances of all a glow of satisfaction and pleasure that could not be concealed from the keen penetration of her who sought to gather facts from looks. " What — what is it ?" uttered she, as she strove to nerve herself to bear whatever intelligence they might bring ; •" tell me — tell me all." " My dear mother," said Frank embracing her, " keep your mind calm — strange things have been revealed — my father's fate has been ascertained, — come, come, sit down and compose yourself. You shall know all." " A hidden mystery has been brought to light, my dear madam," said Mr. Wendover, quietly. " Mr. Heartweli has been heard of ; but are you really able to endure whatever of joy or sorrow may betide — " " Joy ? — joy ? " repeated she with eagerness, " is there then hope, that you use that term ? Do not keep me longer in suspense — it is becoming terrible, your countenances show no grief. Tell me, Ben, if I can learn it from no one else." The seaman looked at his mistress — his smile of exultation could not be mistaken ; but dashing the rising spray from his eyes, he uttered, " Lord love you, my lady, my heart's too full to overhaul it now ; but what's the odds so as you're happy ? " " Can you bear an introduction to one who is able to explain every particular ! " inquired Mr. Wendover ; '* exert yourself, you will stand in need of energy and strength." " It is — it must be," said the gasping lady, " there is something whis- pering it to my heart — a thought I have clung to through all my trials — 288 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S OMNIBUS. a presage of his existence — he lives — say that he lives — I know it, and am firm ! " She arose from her seat, and the next instant was pressed to the throbbing heart of her restored and tenderly loved husband. Years of past pain enhanced the felicitous enjoyment of that moment, and it was long before composure was regained. The absent lieutenant's history may be briefly told. His first remem- brance on recovering from stupor, was of a dark and dreary room, — in fact, the very one in which Brady had expired, — here shut in from the world, and concealed from every eye but that of his keeper, he had dragged on his days a lengthened chain of galling misery, till days dwindled into nothing, and the links were extended to years. But hap- pily for him much of it had been passed in delusion — his intellect had be- come impaired — and when he recovered consciousness, it was like the sudden awakening from a long and fearful dream. He remonstrated — insisted upon being set at liberty, but expressions of remonstrance, and attempts at resistance, were alike punished with severity. Books he was allowed ; but he had no one to converse with, except his keeper. When Brothers was removed from Fisher's, " the prophet " was consi- dered so harmless, that very little restraint was laid upon him, and one of the keepers telling him, that a brother seaman was confined within the walls, he earnestly requested to be .allowed an interview. After repeated solicitations, the keeper secretly complied, and it may be well supposed that the meeting was anything but sorrowful, for it afforded Heartwell a hope that through the medium of his old acquaintance, he might yet escape. As the keeper was present during this, and several subsequent interviews, they could only converse on general topics, and when the fit was on him, Brothers would prophesy. It was on one of these occasions that he gave Heartwell an intimation of his designs, by saying, " What is man that he should be cared for — here to-day, and gone to-morrow — like the light that shineth out of darkness that quickly passeth away ! " This was accompanied by significations that were readily understood, and hope revived the lieutenant's energies ; but although Unity Peach, or more properly speaking, Acteon Shaft, had visited Brothers more than once, yet the latter with cunning peculiar to himself had said nothing about Heartwell, preferring to keep his intentions secret, so that they might not be frustrated, and fearing that if the slightest suspicion was excited, he should be subjected to greater restrictions. On the evening of Brady's return with a fractured skull from the blow given him bj r Frank (for such was the fact, and it is worthy of remark that both villains met their doom from the much-injured young man) Brothers, who was roaming about, overheard directions and commands given by the lawyer to one of the keepers, to administer poison to Heartwell, so that he might be entirely removed, and as he hoped the secret would perish with him. Brothers, who had free access to all parts of the house, occasionally officiating as an assistant — now deter- mined to put his scheme in practice, nor was a moment to be lost. Amidst the confusion which prevailed through Brady's mishap, Brothers contrived to get the keys, and having by an artful message removed the porter, Heart well's cell was opened, and he passed through TEE POSTILION. 289 the passages unobserved to the outer gate. This was locked, and they had no key ; there were however some planks on the ground, and by inclining one against the wall to a certain height, and then placing another on it, he contrived to get into the open fields, and in the darkness eluded the vigilance of the constables who had been set to watch. The glare of the atmosphere pointed out to him the direction of the metropolis, and thither he hastened, taking a straight direction for Ormond-street, where he inquired for his family, but no one could give him intelligence respecting them. Dispirited and disheartened, he went to the nearest watch-house, and informed the chief constable of the night who he was. This functionary happened to be a clever intelligent man, related to,Towns- end the Bow-Street officer, and to his residence he was advised to go ; Iieartwell went, engaged Townsend's assistance, a warrant was promptly obtained, and they hurried back to Hoxton. In the mean time, Brady became more and more outrageous, and insisted on going to Heartwell's cell to ascertain whether his orders had been executed : he found it empty ; and judging from this that the lieutenant was no more, his reason became over- powered, delirium and violence ensued, and they were compelled to secure him where he then was. Townsend and Heartwell found no difficulty in gaining admission, and Brothers conducted them to the cell, which was entered as already described. Mr. Wendover's full consent being obtained, Frank's nuptials followed soon after this joyous re-union.. Youth, beauty, rank, and fashion graced the festival in the parlours and drawing-room of the hall, whilst Ben aud Sambo, who had come up on purpose to the wedding, kept the kitchen guests in one continued round of merriment, till overpowered by respect for his master, veneration for his mistress, and attachment to Frank, Ben's brains began to whirl, his steps became exceedingly erratic as if his feet were mocking each other, and he was carried off to bed by Sambo, where he was snugly deposited under the lee of his night-cap. " You for drinkee too much, massa Ben," said Sambo. " Nem mind dis time, boy, young masser young missy, all golious and sing God shabe de king." " Hur-rah, hurrah," hiccuped Ben, as he strove to raise his head from the pillow. " Hurrah, you beautiful — beauti — piece of ebony — hurrah I say — " down dropped his head. " "Wha-wats the odds so as you're happy !" THE POSTILION. " Wo-ho-ho-iio-up — wo-ho ! "—Sweet public, you are now in the yard of the Crown and Cauliflower Hotel, famous for posting, roasting, and accommodating the lieges with very lean bills of fare, and very fat bills of figures ;— and you have listened to the lover-like tones, half-soliciting, half-imperative, with which our postboy brought his horses at once to a halt, at the hall-door of the Crown and Cauliflower. There he stands at your chaise-door, hand to hat, and whip couchant, soliciting your favourable notice. There stands the postboy, an important indivi- dual of the great family of the riders. He is much given to a white silk hat, with the silk worn off the rim in front, a white neckerchief, a white vest, a canary jacket, a small plaited shirt, and white corded unflt-for-finical-ladies-to-conceive- 290 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S OMNIBUS. the-proper-ogatives of. The postboy is a jumble of contradictions ; he is always rising in the world, yet he is as constantly finding his level; he has had more ups and downs than any other being; he is, at least, fifty-seven, but he has not yet arrived at manhood ; should he complete the century, he will be as far off from it then as he is now; he is always a postboy; a boy post dated ; he never reaches man's estate ; he never knows its declension ; he never sinks into second childishness ; he lives and dies a postboy. We have heard of one, two, or three instances '* down the road," where he saved one or two thousand pounds, and be- came a landlord. We think they are apocryphal. Perhaps they occurred in the days of the highwaymen, by whom postboys have been known to profit. But whenever they occurred, or however, they are exceptions in the great chapter of postboys, proving that the will of fate has given to the postboy " A local habitation and a name " — if, indeed, there can be said to be anything local about his changing and yet mono- tonous existence — else he had walked about the world an embodied nonentity. He is a totally different being to the cantering gemini, the letter postboy and his horse ; nor does he ever become " a postman." Like Tom Moody, he radiates " Through a country well known to him fifty miles round," yet little knoweth he besides the change-houses, and they, in his imagination, stand out in glorious array : — the Pig and Lapstone, the Three Leathern Corkscrews, the Manuscript and Hatchet, the Stork and Ruffles, the Waggon and Shirtpin, the Syllabub and Pump, all of which, in motley succession, dance before his dozing eyes as so many havens from his peril; — the sole green spots that ornament the desert of his life. The postilion is a veritable centaur — a human quadruped partaking of the two natures, the stable and the bed and bolster, " three-pennorth o' brandy," and the nose-bag. He is a poet, superior to that genuine pastoral, the haymaker, if famili- arity with Apollo (and if Apollo be the sun) constitutes a poet. The sickle-wielder of Autumn burns not with such fervid inspiration. Look on his countenance— " that index to the soul" — and imagine how full of fire that soul must be, when the proverbial brevity of an index contains so much — "to overflowing full." His genus stands out like a finger-post before him, introducing him to every circle. His soul is concentrated in the Mews. Talk of Shakspere and Owen Glendower, they never carried such lights before them ; even Bardolph himself possessed not such a nasal flambeau. No ! his is an inspired nose, and his nose knows it ! And it loveth not, neither doth it abide, the familiarities of the aqueous element, but hisses in its ablutions, as a stable-boy hisses when he is cleaning a horse, thereby publishing its heat and its nosology. Again, mark you his freckles — whoever saw such in the face of beauty ? He is a character iC alone in his glory," so far as his outward indi- cations go. Let us gauge the calibre of his understanding. We were in the tap of the Sun and Cabbage-stump when he called to u wet his whistle." A " boy " was there before him from the Hand and Placquet, drinking with "a return," said return being a runaway apprentice, and our postboy stopped with his in the shape of a clandestine marriage. Upon meeting, the following colloquy took place: — " Well, Tom, how goes it at the Placquet, eh ? 1 see ye up the road pretty often lately. I 'spose the old man an' her don't agree no better? Ah ! he shouldn't a married her." ?' That's nither here nor there with us, you know, Bob, as long as there's plenty o' gemmen as wants our assistance; and, somehow, there's all'ays plenty on em' at the Placquet — good payers too. Th' old fellers terrible crabby, but she cocks her cap 'nation high, to be sure, an' she don't care — it suits her better tolookarter her customers, eh i " "Mum about them things, Tom. I got a han'some young couple here going to be made one, an' we shouldn't put cankerd snaffles into young colts' chaps. There's nothin' very pleasant in rising blisters in the mouth — is there, sir ?" (to our worthy self.) " You're the rummiest feller I ever come near, Bob, to talk to the gemman a THE POSTILION. 291 that way — you'd make a gallows good parson. But I s'pose you're comin' it feelin' like, an' Mary Scrabbles '11 soon be Mrs. Trotter?" At this repartee there was a general " He ! he ! he ! " the runaway apprentice taking the alto part. "That young gemman's in a very good humour, ain't he, Tom? I s'pose his mother know he s out? A regular young lord in disguise, come out to 'stonish us gulpins; but if we had him on a flinty road, o' th' offside, at one or two o'clock of a winter's mornin', we could mek him drop his cock-tail, eh, Tom ? an' laugh o' th* other side o' his mouth." " Order, order," as them parliament chaps say — "'tacking my constitent ain't nothin' about Mary, you know, Bob." " O, stow your chaff, an' I must be off. Here's to your health, Miss, wishin' ye much happiness; and your'n, sir, all the same; an' to the young gentleman there with the mint o' goold in his pocket, an' the kiddy side locks, an' th' pertikler purty count'nance when he laughs" — (he had a mouth like a park, and teeth like its palings) — " 'oping he may never have the prison crop, nor th' lock jaw, nor the Vituses dance to spile him, Tom ! " and a concurrent nod and wink at Tom scarcely preceded the emptying of the glass of " brandy with," ere he departed. "Mind ye don't break down at the Horns, there," shouted the remaining "boy," having a sly fling at both parties as they rattled away, and dexterously conciliating his own. Such is a specimen of his snap-dragon conversation, which partakes strongly of Christmas nonsense — short and caustic, touch and go — the blazing gin and raisins of confabulation. The postilion seldom marries, but, in general, he does the insinuating to the cook at the inn where he tarries. The postboy has a tooth and a taste for a gastronomical relish ; and though his strong stomach and long rides furnish his appetite with the best of all condiments, he can pout out his lips, and depress his eyebrows, at the plain and substantial fare which is allowed and provided for him, while his mouth waters for a portion of the luxuries preparing about him ; therefore, whatever Molly can pare and make, as convenience and opportunity offer, never comes either too late or too early for him. He imagines himself to be one of those who are reputed to be "awake "to the world," and sooth to say, he distinguishes at a glance the character of his fare of either gender, and deports himself accordingly. He never takes more than his legitimate fare — if he cannot get it: nor will he ever annoy you with impertinence at his departure — if you have purchased his civility. He may, and frequently does, practise a little collusion with toll gate keepers: thus, just as you are leaving the town where you hire your post-chaise, there is invariably a toll-bar ; you pay there, and the postboy receives "a ticket," which frees you from payment at other bars on your line of route, set up to intercept the cross-roads, and so on, till you must pay again, on entering another " line of trust." A lucky dog are you, if you escape so; ten to one your postboy has "an understanding" with the keeper of one of the bars, whereat arriving, he bawls out, " Pay here ! " ; or, if you have been very liberal " at mine inn," or to the last " boy," it varies to " Pay here, your honour ! " in notes as dulcet as his glottis will permit him, and draws up. "Free to Flatbit!" cries the tollman, as you comply with his demand, dash goes the rowel into the left flank of the near horse, and you are pursuing your course in blissful ignorance. As the postboy returns, he receives from his "friend," his share of your mulct, and enjoys his laugh literally at your expense. The postboy has been a person of importance— we say, has been; for, firstly, the flying stages, with their excellent accommodation, civil functionaries, and eleven miles an hour, more than decimated his "order;" then that northern leveller, Macadam, exacted a triple tithe; and lastly, the iron-ribbed troughs and viaducts, everywhere throwing out arteries from the main trunks, and every individual inch growing, like a chopped centipede, into a perfect monster, — have almost annihilated him, so much so, that the next generation will set him down as an extinct animal, and, like the present with the Dodo, will be able to find only his bill and his boots ! Still doth he retain some dignity, for, at a late general election, he headed the poll gallantly for the independent and patriotic 292 GEORGE CRUIKSHANKS OMNIBUS. borough of Bully bribe ; where the Right Honourable Florian Augustus Fingle- f angle offered golden reasons for the suffrages of his father's tenantry, and those real bulwarks of the British empire — the potwallopers. Notwithstanding, his glory has departed ; those incorrigible dogs who rule the roast in the courts of law — cold, unyielding, unromantic civilians — have long decided not to recognise the mysteries of the Gretna smithy ; they have openly denounced the votaries of Venus and Vulcan ; and one great part of the postboy's occupation is no more. Our postboy is not about to lead you, gentle reader, the tour of the Continent ; he is not about to familiarise you with banditti ; he has no forests nor horrible gorges to lead you through ; you must expect little from him beside what we have prepared you for; and, as we have exposed his trifling peccadilloes, we entreat you not to let your virtuous indignation overcome your liberality nor your gentlemanly bearing. Probably, sir, your are fresh from the perpetration of rascalities which he would shrink from as being heinous crimes, but which you very complacently assure yourself were cleverly done to take in Messrs. Adderfeed and Co. You are a shrewd fellow, doubtless, and " are not to be done," as you believe in your self-sufficiency ; — let him try to impose payment of a toll on you, which you have no business to pay, and you wish they may get it, that's all! Ts T ow, put it to your conscience — you have a conscience? — and compare your rascalities with his venialities : your " means and appliances f. with his ; and if conscience give the balance in your favour, why you are a worthy fellow, and ought not to be imposed on ; but be careful ; do not insist upon your bond ; your memory may play truant, and, if it does not, you are certainly benevolent, nay, munificent, and will not stoop to such a paltry cavil. Remember he is ever at your beck and command, hail, rain, or shine ; high-road or bye-road ; at hazy morn, or fervid noon, or dreary night; you have but to intimate your pleasure, and he is your humble servitor. In the stifling heat and dust of midsummer, and in the dreary sleet and howling winds of Christmas, he is glad to administer to your business or pleasure. He never tires nor complains of his vocation. Thrice has he been out in this day's heavy rain — the whole of his wardrobe is soaked — a month ago he rose from a bed of fever, induced by the same cause — yet are you waiting, the moment you hear his wheels, to order him off for another sixteen miles, and not a murmur will escape him, although it is now six at eve, the sun setting, and the wind " turning very cold." Still will he lift his hat to you as deferentially as he did to his first fare, and comply with the same alacrity. The thousands who pass him in his progress think not of his cares nor his sorrows, his abundance or his want. He toils and moils like the rest, unconscious that the eyes and the mind of the philosopher— bright scintillations of heaven and eternity — may rest upon him at the same moment with those of the humble individual who hath here noted his characteristics and sketched his profile. Jao. "THE HORSE BY THE HEAD." Mr. and Mrs. Q. were discussing their financial resources — " I cannot make out,"said the lady, " how it is that Mr. X. contrives to keep such a large house and so many servants, and to live in such style. You are quite as clever, my dear, in your profession — ay, that you are — cleverer too, for that matter; and yet, with all your skill and per- severance, we are living, as it were, from hand to mouth. How is it ? " " Why, my love," said Mr. Q., " you see that X. has got the start: in fact, you see, my dear, he has got * the horse by the head,' and I have onlv got him by the tail." 293 A FLOATING RECOLLECTION. In the year 1806, when the Asia East Indiaman was conveying a detachment of dragoons to Madras, the ship encountered very severe weather. Amongst the troops was a blithe "boy" named Pat Murphy, and he had also a pretty wife on board, who, instead of taking the roughs with the smooths, was continually upbraiding her husband. " Arrah, Pat, why did yez bring me here into this dark hole now ? Oh ! whirrasthrue and it's smashed and kilt entirely I'll be in regard o' the say-sickness and the kicking of the ship." " Och, cooshla-machree," returned Pat, trying to soften her, " rest aisy, darling. Shure an it was yerself as wanted to come and wouldn't stay behind. Small blame to you for that anyhow, seeing that Pat Murphy's the man as owns you. But rest aisy awhile, an it's the bright sun and the smooth wather well get, and go sailing away like a duck over a pond." " Oh, thin, Pat, but it's little feeling you've got for my misfortunate state," uttered Judy, as she burst into tears. " Never again shall I see the green-hill tops tinged with the goulden glory of the sun — never again shall I thravail free-footed through the bogs and over the moors. Oh ! it's a dessolute woman I am this very day — och hone — och hone." This sort of complaining was continually repeated, till the temper of the warm-hearted Irishman began to give way ; but he struggled hard to bear up against her petulance and peevishness. One day, however, the gale increased to a downright hurricane — the ship had sprung a leak, the water was gaining on the pumps, the sea ran fearfully high, and it was evident, unless the storm abated, that the " Asia must yield to the war of elements and go down." Pat, who had been relieved from the pumps, contrived to get below to see Judy, and was greeted with the usual reception. " Haven't I been a faithful and thrue wife to yez ? and here I am smothered with the say- sickness, an the noise and the bother !" " An' how can I help it, Judy V remonstrated Pat. " Shure an I've done my best, and been a dootiful husband. I carn't conthrol the say or the ship as I would a horse upon the turf — long life to it — what would you have I" Judy, however, still continued her clamour, till Pat's patience was at length worn completely out, and he voiciferated in no very gentle voice, " Och, thin, howld your peace, woman ; is it meself as you'd be breaking the heart of afore I'm dead ? Arrah, rest aisy with yer tongue !" At this moment, a heavy sea struck the ship on the bows, ranged fore and aft, and rushed down every cavity, causing considerable confusion. Judy shrieked and cried out, " Oh ! Pat, an why did yez bring me here V Pat, who really thought the ship was sinking, turned round, and ex- claimed with vehemence, " Arrah, howld yer bodther, woman — you'll be a widdaw to-night." This terrible announcement of her becoming a widow silenced poor Judy ; and before Pat was summoned to renew his labour at the pumps, 294 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK S OMNIBUS. she had thrown her arms about his neck, and in loving accents implored him to avert so dreadful a calamity. The storm abated — fine weather returned — Judy grew more accustomed to the ship, but ever afterwards went by the name of "Pat Murphy's widow;" and it was nothing uncommon to hear both soldiers and sailors calling out, " Pat, Pat Mur- phy, your widow wants you." The Old Sailoh. SHEER TYRANNY. SHEER TENDERNESS. Cropping a poor wanderer, who has slept one night in the Croydon workhouse, hefore he is liberated in the morning. Cropping a long-haired bacchanal, con- victed at the Mansion-house of drunk- enness, instead of fining him. THE PAUPERS' CHAUNT *. Air : — "Oh the Roast-Beef of Old England!" we're very well fed, Mince-pies they are nice, So we must not repine, And plum-pudding is fine. Though turkey we've cut, But we'd give up them both And likewise the chine ; For "ribs " or " Sir Line," But, oh ! once a-year If for once in the year We should just like to dine We could but just dine On the roast-beef of Old England, On the roast-beef of Old England, Oh the old English roast-beef ! Oh the old English roast-beef ! O, the gruel 's delicious, " Roast beef and plum-pudding" The taters divine — Is true Christmas fare, And our very small beer But they think that our morals Is uncommonly fine ; Such dainties won't bear. But with us we think Oh ! oh ! it is plain You would not like to dine, Ne'er more shall we share Without the roast-beef of Old England, In the roast-beef of Old England, Oh the old English roast-beef! Oh the old English roast-beef. Our soup 's very good, Still long life to the Queen We really must own, Is the toast we'd be at; But of what it is made With a health to the Prince, Arn't very well known ; May he live and grow fat ! So, without any soup And may all under him We would much rather dine Have abundance of that — On the roast-beef of Old England, W hat ?— Why the roast-beef of England, Oh the old English roast-beef ! Oh the old English roast-beef ! * Suggested by the refusal of the Poor-law Commissioners to allow any charitable person to send in supplies of roast-beef and plum-pudding upon Christmas day to the inmates of the Union workhouses. 295 SKETCHES HERE, THERE, AND EVERYWHERE. BY A. BIRD. A CONTESTED ELECTION AT ROME. There are, I doubt not, thousands and thousands subject to our most gracious and protesting Queen — " Gentlemen of England" — ay, and Ladies too — " who live at home at ease," and fancy, poor simpletons ! that the age of miracles is past. No such thing. Once in every hundred years there is in the Everlasting City a regular contested election in honour of the dead, each member being returned, as it were, to earth, in the character of saint, not as with the elect of this world, for words and promises of things to be, but for miracles done and recorded. The number of seats devoted to the saints is generally supposed to be three hundred and sixty-five, that is to say, one for every day in the year. And if we refer to the earliest period when first " The Romans had a happy knack, Of cooking up an almanack," we shall find that every seat was occupied. Where then, it may be asked, are the addenda to be placed at the end of each century ? The question is by no means easy of solution. There is, to be sure, leap-year, with its odd day in February; yet this would only do for a bit of a saint, and coming like a comet at stated intervals, I incline to think that when c * the Devil a saint would be," he takes that odd day to himself, and walks the earth with all the glories of his tail, an appendage which no true saint would acknowledge* But, as the French found room for " St. Napoleon," even while alive, I can only suppose that the longest day will hold more than the shortest, and any day hold more than one saint. When St. Nap was elected, it is clear some smaller saint must have been put in the background, and thus he remained — as we should say of an ex-minister — " out of place and out of favour," until the Bourbons returned, and included the ex- saint in their own restoration. Leaving, however, this knotty point to the Pope and his cardinals, I come at once to St. Peter's and the fact. It was in the merry month of May 1839 that I last entered that temple, alike unrivalled for its majesty and beauty — would that I had never seen it as I saw it then ! The election was over, the chosen of one hundred years were decided upon, four new saints had been returned to earth ; a fifth had been nominated, but after his claims had been duly canvassed, the votes were against him. An overwhelming majority declared that he had not performed sufficient miracles to be canonised, and his bones were doomed to rest in peace. Not so the successful candidates ; their names were entered in the day-book of the Pope's elect, each saint and his miracle were put upon canvass, the likenesses were warranted, and the limner's art had done its best to show how saints in heaven were made by man on earth. There they were, only awaiting the ceremonies which were to confirm the intended honours, the chairing of themselves and deeds in effigy — (if thus we may speak of hanging those huge pictures on high) — the celebration of mass, the roaring of cannon from the Castle of St. GEORGE CRUIKSHANKS OMNIBUS. Angelo — psalmody, such as Rome alone can boast — processions wherein grandeur, littleness, gorgeous wealth, torches, and tinsel, struggle for mas- tery, yet form in the whole a most striking and impressive inconsistency. Be our creed what it may, whether we approve or whether we condemn, our feelings are carried away by the feelings of the many, the thousands upon thousands who, with one accord, bare the head and bend the knee, when their Prince of the whole Christian world, their Pope, " Nostra Papa" appears ! Jews, Turks, and Infidels must " off with their hat" — if they have one — but with the most rigid there is also an involuntary inclination to bend the knee. "Who, unmoved, can watch a Roman procession wending its way towards the high altar, till it pauses beneath their Holy of Holies, the wondrous dome of St. Peter's ! a strange anomaly, I grant — venerable priests of Christ, tottering beneath the weight of gold embroidered on their backs ; cardinals, proud and stately, wearing their scarlet hats as knights who bore the helmet of the church ; beautiful boys, with angel wings upon their shoulders ; censers, waving clouds of incense, lending its perfume to the air, and, like a spirit loath to quit this lower world, wheeling, hovering, slowly rising in graceful circles of fantastic flight till it mingles with the sky, and is seen no more. " Tis gone ! and as it passed I caught the costume of the warlike Swiss; the guards of Jhim, the Pope who preaches peace on earth. I saw their nodding plumes of raven black, with scarlet tuft — their glittering halberts of an age gone by — their ruffs, rosettes, their belts of buff (the perfection of a painter's picturesque), armed and covered in the House of God ! — Yes, this, and much untold, of that which forms a Romish procession at Rome, strange and anomalous though it be, is most striking and impressive as a whole. The mere recollection has carried me with it, and turned aside for the moment the ma- lediction I contemplated on the dressing up of St. Peter's. Would, I repeat, that I had never seen it [ to gild the virgin gold were a venial blunder in comparison — it would still be gold, and look like gold ; but to veil the majesty, the stern uncompromising beauty of St. Peter's columns with flaunting silk, to ornament perfection with tinsel hangings and festoons, this was indeed a profanation in honour of the saints elect. St. Peter's, with me, had been a passion from the moment I first looked upon its wondrous beauty : it was love, love at first sight, but growing with my growth — a passion, holy and enduring, such- as can be only felt when we stand in the presence of fancied perfection. Judge, then, of my horror when I saw this desecration ! — but there is no blank so dark that we may not find a ray of light. I bless the saints for one thing — A.St,r/ Id SKETCHES HERE, THERE, AND EVERYWHERE. 297 they taught me how to build a brace of angels, and in so doing they taught me the stupendous proportions of that temple, which, though built by human hands, has in it a sublimity which awes and humbles the proud heart of little man. Nay, the very portraits of their very saints diverted my angry thoughts by teaching the self-same lesson. There was one — a monstrous ugly fellow — who, preparatory to his chairing, was left to lean against a column. The proportions of this miracle-worker were so gigantic, that I deemed it some mighty caricature, painted on the main-sail of a man-of-war, till, looking at his fellows raised to their proper elevation, they seemed in their oval frames but medallions stuck upon the walls ! The angel manufactory, however, was still more striking. To give effect to the intended ceremonies, the head decorator suggested a brace of angels, to be placed on each side of the nave of St. Peter's, behind the altar. The lazy cardinals nodded assent, and the question was carried nem. con. They do all things well at Rome in honour of the church, even their greatest follies are on a scale of grandeur — their fire- works, fountains, illuminations, are all unrivalled — so are their angels, when they make them. First, an able artist is employed to sketch a design, then able workmen to build, painters to paint, and lastly, robe- makers to clothe the naked. The construction is curious : a skeleton figure, after the late fashion of 298 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S OMNIBUS. single-line figures, is prepared with a strong rod of iron, which is fixed into a large block of wood, and this may be termed the building founda- tion. The next step — oh ! most anti-angelic notion ! is to collect hay- bands (enough for a hay-market), and therewith to mould the limbs and body. It were vain to attempt, by words, to describe the ludicrous effect produced ; but, by the aid of the foregoing cut, it may be conceived. Good-bye to sublimity for that day ! omne ignotum pro magnifico — it never answers to go behind the scenes ; and if it be true that in some cases " ignorance is bliss," how much more truly do the Latin words tell us that " ignorance is ever the key-stone to sublimity." It is true, that as I looked upon the gigantic saint, as yet unhung, and compared him with his fellows, the elect on high ; as I watched this monster of miracles, raised by pulleys till he dwindled into a pretty miniature ; as I saw the pigmy workmen wheeling the huge angels to their places, — it must be confessed that I had found " a sliding scale," which, in this case, answered admirably. It enabled me to measure the proportions of the stupendous pile which towered above me to judge of its most beautiful symmetry, with greater force and stronger convic- tion than I had ever felt whilst gazing on the children which support the holy water, the sweet babes with arms as thick as the thigh of man ! That knowledge was interesting — the angel-making was amusing, but the solemn tone of mind suited to St. Peters was destroyed. In vain I stood before the lions of Canova; the one which slept could not inspire the repose which breathed through the sleeping marble ; the one which watched, the sleepless sentinel, guarding the ashes of the dead, even this could not scare the demon of ridicule that played on hallowed ground. I turned to the mosaics, those fadeless pictures which seem as painted for eternity ; no, not these — not Guido's Archangel, that wondrous type of heavenly beauty in the form of man — of power to conquer with the will to do— not even this could tame the merry sin within me. I stood before that statue which frenzied with undying passion the priest who gazed upon its beauties — the emblem of " Justice," but so lovely in its nakedness, that man, impure and imperfect, became a worshipper, and obliged the Pope to hide Justice from his children. The ridiculous pre- vailed ; I smiled to think that the form as well as eyes of " Justice at Rome" must be hid from sight. And I laughed outright at woman's curiosity, when I thought how Lady See prevailed upon the Pope to lift the veil and show her the form which made a Pygmalion of a priest ! The demon was in me for the day ; it had been raised by — to use a fashionable word — the desecration of the temple, and nothing could lay the evil spirit. I turned to my hotel, ordered horses for the morrow, and fled. My course was set for Naples. As I traversed the Pontine Marshes, cheek by jowl with the sluggish stream which the pride of Popes has wedded to the road and given to the travellers eye, what a contrast did these waters, this cold, dark, silent chain of " Mal-aria" present to the stream of life, the roar of cannon, the music, festival, and holiday, which fancy pictured in the Eternal City ! But the comparison was in favour of the waters ; there is, thought I, at least some use in these, for, as they drag their weary length along, death, the tyrant, fettered and subdued, is borne on their course from plains where once his rule was absolute. MRS. TODDLES. 299 Filled with these reflections, and sometimes dreaming that I saw the captive monarch in a phantom ship, with skeleton crew — sometimes that I heard the sullen splash of muffled oars ; thus dreaming and reflecting, he journey seemed short to Naples ; and there it was I chanced upon A Miracle of Modern Days," which, however, must be reserved until the Omnibus shall start again. MRS. TODDLES. It is the cherished wish of our heart, more especially at the moment when we are entering upon a new-year, and opening a fresh account with Time, to be at peace with all men ; but Col. Talker — (is his name Talker or Walker ?) — has certainly done his utmost to uproot arid scatter to the winds this pacific feeling. His conduct at the office, the day after our last publication, was extremely violent ; and his threats intermingled with terrible oaths, such as " Dash my buttons," " Burn my wig," &c, were quite discreditable to him. And all on account of the dozen words we have said of him — for he is now cool enough on the score of Mrs. T.'s supposed grievance. This is the way with all your gallant cham- pions ! We hope Col. W. has not toruhia shirt frill, nor injured his umbrella past re- pair. We hope too that he is not a confirmed duellist. Trusting that we shall yet live to be on amicable terms witli Col. W., we shall now describe his gallant conduct in escorting Mrs. Toddles to Bow, to spend their Christ- mas eve in that favoured vicinity, her dear native place, which, it appears, she has been vainly endeavouring to reach, these last nine months. Resolved however to have nothing to do with an " omnibus," they found out one of the old-fashioned stages, but, being too late (as usual !) to secure inside places, were compelled to go outside. , , . . , , Mrs. T. and the colonel seated themselves very comfortably in the basket or dickey. Scarcely however had they advanced on their journey beyond Aldgate pump, when, lamentable to relate, the dickey, affected by old age or by a violent jolt, suddenly separated itself from the coach, and down it came crash with Mrs. T. into the road ; the gallant colonel springing to the roof as nimbly as a lamplighter. The feelings of both, as Hamlet remarks, may be more easily conceived than described. Happily how- ever no serious injury wa3 sustained by Mrs. T. beyond a slight fracture of the bonnet, not likely to prove fatal to its shape ; her dress cap too which she was carrying in paper was also a lit- tle crumpled, and there was a crash of something in her pocket which, 6he most positively alleged, was not a bottle. Colonel W., as soon as the coach could be stopped, descended and returned to the scene of the accident in time to snatch that lady from the risks to which her delicacy was exposed, which was shocked only to the extent of proclaim- ing a fact previously known perhaps to many, that she wore black^stockings. We are truly 300 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK's OMNIBUS. happy to Btate that after a little delay they reached their place of destination together in perfect safety ; and the very best security which we can offer to the friends of Mr3. Toddles that she suffered nothing from the untoward occurrence, is, that she was enabled in the course of the delightful evening which she spent, to take part in a cotillon with her friend the gallant Colonel ; and when they were last seen, they were dancing away gloriously together. SONNET TO MRS. SARAH TODDLES. Though short thou art in stature, Sarah dear, Thou shalt not be looked over by the world ; — Nor though an antique bonnet thou dost wear Over, perchance, a wig, where hair once curled ! Thy Lightfoot is beneath the grassy mound, And thou wilt sto thy Heavisides no more, — \ loaded with lead, thy feet, by age, are found, And thy sides lean to what they were before : — Chid of a Gunn ! (that went off long ago) — Lightfoot's and Heaviside's surviving half! ! Relict of Toddles ! ! ! all thy friends well know Thy worth, and say, without intent to chaff, " Sarah will be, and is (though suitors crave) " A widow still, — and Toddles to the grave ! " V.D.L. POSTSCRIPT. Mr. George Cruikshank here concludes the first volume of his " Omnibus," by wishing all his friends and readers a " happy new year." An arrangement entered into, a twelvemonth ago, with Mr. Harrison Ainsworth, and now resumed, with a view to its being carried into effect on the 1st of February, prevents the re-appearance of the * ' Omnibus " upon the plan of monthly numbers ; but the estimation and success it has obtained, encourage him to pursue the object with which he started, by presenting his second volume in the form of an Annual. That object was, to produce a Fireside Miscellany — here it is ; and if he and his literary associates herein should meet ihe reader as agreeably in an Annual, as in a Monthly form, he trusts it will be Paul I ISry, *v« ♦-;«** m •&• £■*• ■ Jl^^^i T /