Ex tibris 
 C. K. OGDEN

 
 ROMANCE OF REALITY; 
 
 OB, 
 
 TALES FROM A WANDEEER'S DIARY.
 
 KOMANCE OF REALITY; 
 
 OR, 
 
 TALES FROM A WANDERER'S 
 
 DIARY. 
 
 WYBERT REEVE, 
 
 COMEDIAN. 
 
 SHEFFIELD: 
 
 PAWSON AXD BRA/LSFORD, HIGH STEEKT.

 
 DEDICATION. 
 
 TO CHARLES KEAN, ESQ. 
 
 DEAR SIB, 
 
 In dedicating to you these few cur- 
 sory sketches, I feel a considerable amount of gra- 
 tification, that through their means I am enabled 
 publicly to express my admiration for your long 
 and arduous endeavours, during your management 
 of the Princess's, to raise the legitimate Drama of 
 this country from the slough into which it had 
 apparently fallen, dating from the efforts of Mr. 
 Macready at the Theatres Royal, Drury Lane and 
 Covent Garden. 
 
 True, it found a home for some years at Sadler's 
 Wells, under the spirited management of Mr. 
 Phelps, but both the locality and dimensions of 
 that theatre rendered it certainly unworthy of being 
 the ONLY shelter left where that grand foundation 
 on which, to a great extent, rests our literary fame, 
 
 1C57615
 
 VI DEDICATION. 
 
 the works of our dramatists could be presented 
 with sufficient power. 
 
 To you sir, then, is due the credit of those 
 revivals, by means of which the audience were not 
 only enabled to enjoy and profit by the beautiful 
 poetry of the dramatist, but that very poetry be- 
 came intensified, by the reality given to it, in 
 restoring the scenes, habits, and dresses of the 
 age depicted, according to the most authentic 
 sources : and as in the " Midsummer Night's 
 Dream," by occasional appeals to the ideal senses, 
 bearing out and illustrating the fervid and imagi- 
 native beauty of the great master-mind of the Bard 
 of Avon. By such means, those who never other- 
 wise would have sought for the knowledge became 
 familiar with men and manners of the historic 
 past, and learned to appreciate Shakespeare, who 
 in dying left to England a legacy in las works im- 
 mortal as those of Homer, Plato, Cicero, Sophocles, 
 or Virgil, names which cast a halo of earthly gran- 
 deur and consecrate with undying fame the very 
 ruins of fallen empires. 
 
 Cavillers (and they are ever to be found) may 
 term those revivals spectacles : they and we may 
 look back with pride to the achievement of a 
 Betterton, a Macklin, or a Garrick, and we may 
 thank heaven at the same time we are removed 
 from those primitive days when a bag-wig and
 
 DEDICATION. Vli 
 
 square-cut coat, with breeches, marred the gran- 
 deur of Lear or the glowing philosophy of Hamlet ; 
 whilst, in reading the " Stage Directions" to the 
 early editions of Shakespeare, and the list of pro- 
 perties possessed by the Lord Admirals and other 
 companies of the sixteeenth century, we have direct 
 proof, it was the ivill of the poet and the custom 
 of the period to introduce, as far as their rude 
 and primitive appliances furnished them, the pomp 
 of majesty, the uproar of battle, or of the elemen- 
 tal storm into their Dramatic representations. 
 
 You, sir, having retired from managerial anxie- 
 ties, well-wishers to the Drama can only hope 
 some other gentleman will, ere long, be found with 
 sufficient energy, pecuniary resources, and ability 
 to follow in your footsteps and re-create the public 
 taste, recalling it from the present morbid worship 
 of the horrible and a craving after sensations, 
 which are alike to be found in our modern dramas, 
 our gymnastic exhibitions, and our criminal exe- 
 cutions. Once a more intellectual and human 
 taste could firmly be established, another dawn for 
 the pure English Drama might arise, obscuring 
 and finally banishing that shadow of the true art 
 which now hangs over it, and the wretched effu- 
 sions, frequently of French parentage, now, in 
 too many instances, finding a place on the London 
 boards, in the shape of Play, Comedy, or Farce,
 
 Till DEDICATION. 
 
 would be abolished, giving place to a more moral, 
 more original, and more intellectual class of Dra- 
 matic Literature. 
 
 Having thus, perhaps somewhat at length, ex- 
 pressed my humble opinion, let me still further 
 acknowledge the admiration I have felt for your 
 private worth, reflecting as it does with infinite 
 credit upon the profession of which you are so 
 distinguished a member ; and I entertain a 
 sincere desire that, however humble their position, 
 to many you may prove an example, who, in imi- 
 tating your perseverance and strictly honourable 
 conduct, must surely find an acknowledgment in the 
 respect of their fellow creatures thus (when com- 
 paring it with other professions) the untruthful 
 cant of the " poor actor" would no more be heard, 
 for capacity, respectability, and industry need never 
 seek long for that encouragement responsible 
 managers are ever willing to bestow. 
 
 These remarks, believe me, are not penned in 
 any sycophantic spirit, but as the result of one 
 deply interested in the subject ; and who, wishing 
 you and Mrs. Kean many years of future happiness, 
 has the pleasure of subscribing himself, 
 
 Yours faithfully and obediently, 
 
 THE AUTHOR.
 
 PKEFACE. 
 
 DUKING a period of some twelve or thirteen 
 years my professional duties have rendered it ne- 
 cessary for me to travel over a considerable portion 
 of Great Britain ; and although my services pro- 
 fessionally have been almost entirely confined to 
 its larger towns, my wandering disposition has led 
 me to employ every available day, week or month 
 in seeking out fresh beauties or objects of interest 
 in landscape or city, both here and on the continent. 
 During these peregrinations it has been my lot to 
 encounter many strange incidents, bearing with 
 melancholy or singular interest upon the events 
 that are ever surrounding ui= and our fellow- 
 labourers 
 
 " In the world's broad field of battle, 
 In the bivouac of life."
 
 T PREFACE. 
 
 Month after month new faces have been near 
 me, new acquaintances have been formed, a few 
 weeks, or perhaps days only, have passed over, and 
 from the inevitable force of circumstances our 
 paths have diverged, a "farewell" has been spoken, 
 and with few exceptions the probability has been we 
 should never meet again. This experience is not 
 confined to individuals of any particular sphere 
 in life, having shared the hospitality, and I hope 
 good-will, of almost all classes. To some few who 
 have known me, several of the following sketches 
 will be familiar, in the events to which they refer, 
 and will prove, though long silent, the recollections 
 of our companionship are not forgotten. From 
 the reflections and circumstances of so varied a 
 life, these and other Tales first sprung to amuse 
 a rather large circle of friends. At their desire, I 
 have selected and publish a few in the present 
 form, to seek for broader sympathy. Friends are 
 prone to be too partial the sentence, gentle 
 reader, now lies with you. 
 
 I certainly regret that the majority bear so sad 
 a moral ; if I could honestly have happily married
 
 PREFACE. XI 
 
 my heroes and heroines, and surrounded them 
 with thankful, chubby children, after the manner 
 of novelists in general, I would gladly have done 
 so ; but, alas ! the reality would then be wanting : 
 truth having been my guide, I have no power to 
 control " the divinity that shapes our ends." 
 
 SluffieU, 
 
 December, 1862.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGB. 
 
 THE SMUGGLEE'S STORY 3 
 
 THE LOST DEED 28 
 
 SHATTERED HOPES 47 
 
 AN IRISHMAN'S DOUBLE 61 
 
 THE LIFEWRECK 75 
 
 A CHRISTMAS DINXER IN SCOTLAND 100 
 
 THE DEATH SHADOWS 113 
 
 WIGGENS IN SEARCH OF LODGINGS : A NEW CHRISTMAS 
 
 STOBY 131 
 
 A STRANGE SUICIDE 148 
 
 PRIDE : A FASHIONABLE WATERING PLACE 163 
 
 MEMOIRS OF A JOLLY GOOD FELLOW ... 179 
 
 THE MISER'S DEATH . 196
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S STORY. 
 
 What is the worst of woes that wait on age ? 
 
 What stamps the wrinkle deeper on the brow ? 
 To view each lov'd one blotted from life's page, 
 
 And be alone on earth, as I am now. 
 
 BYRON. 
 
 Long thus he chewed the cud of inward grief, 
 And did consume his gall with anguish sore ; 
 
 Still when he mused on his late mischief, 
 Then still the smart thereof increased more. 
 And seemed more grievous than it was before. 
 
 SPKNSER. 
 
 " FINE weather, sir !" said a rough voice at my 
 side, a few minutes after being comfortably seated 
 on a stage coach, within a dozen miles of Milford 
 Haven. " Very," I replied, turning to look at the 
 person addressing me. He was an old man, with 
 a face bronzed by exposure to the weather a 
 frank, manly, yet sad expression in it, and hair 
 that is generally termed " iron gray." His dress 
 was half landsman, half seaman, and in its peculiar 
 adjustment bore unmistakeable signs of his predi- 
 lections. The hat was thrown far back on his 
 head, as if it had no right to a place there, the 
 shirt collar turned down, exposing a brawny
 
 4 THE SMUGGLER'S STORY. 
 
 neck, and his neck-tie was in a sailor's knot. In- 
 deed, at first sight he struck me as an old Jack-tar, 
 who, having seen much service, had, against his 
 will, been transformed into a respectable " land- 
 lubber ;" and having doffed his sou'wester and 
 pea jacket had taken to a Moses' four-and-nine and 
 an outrageously long-tailed coat. On recalling his 
 features, I cannot tell what strange inducement I 
 had for encouraging conversation, generally whilst 
 travelling being exceedingly taciturn ; but the de- 
 sire at the time seemed almost irresistible I sup- 
 pose it was the appearance of the man, and his 
 evident familiarity with " hair-breadth 'scapes," 
 and all the dangers of a nautical life. At first he 
 withdrew from my delicately-hinted queries ; but a 
 little tact does much, in such cases, a little brandy 
 more, and the latter I supplied him with from a 
 small pocket flask I carried with me. So much 
 inducement he could not withstand, and at length 
 we became excellent friends, an acquaintance re- 
 sulting in the following story :* 
 
 " You see yonder mountain, sir. Not that the 
 
 * I may here remark, tbough to a certain extent a lover of 
 the marvellous and romantic, I have a great horror of being 
 made the dupe of a fable. Remembering the chief points of 
 this story, on my visit to the town some weeks after, where 
 the old man was residing, situated but a few miles from the 
 scene of his adventures, I made the necessary inquiries, and 
 am able to record them as facts.
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S STORY. 5 
 
 other, more to the west, now rather obscure from the 
 distance, There's not a foot for miles round that 
 I am not well acquainted with. I trod it when a 
 child, I played about it when a boy, and I lived 
 near it as a man. My father's life was almost 
 passed within sight of it, and to both of us it has 
 been the wished-for landmark in many a storm, 
 and in many a secret and dangerous enterprise. 
 He was what you call a smuggler, sir ! I don't 
 like the name. I never did, though I, too, fol- 
 lowed the calling, and till late years knew no 
 other. I would as soon be called a robber at once 
 mayhap you think there ain't much difference 
 but on this point, you see, we don't all go upon the 
 same tack. I and my father, in the whole of our 
 lives, never defrauded the king, who is now dead 
 and gone, God bless him ! one half as much as 
 many of these men I read about Avith fine names, 
 snug berths, and enormous pay for doing nothing. 
 They're none of 'em particular about taking more 
 than their due when they get the chance, I take 
 it. Well, then, the government robs the public to 
 pay them ; and it's my opinion there's many a 
 greater rogue in the parliament house than ever I 
 was or my father before me. But John Bull only 
 winks at these misdeeds. At poor devils like us, 
 he only winks when he's got us in gaol or treading 
 the footsteps of the gallows.
 
 6 THE SMUGGLER'S STORY. 
 
 " A little to the right of that mountain, some 
 twenty years ago, standing just upon its slope, in 
 a sort of ravine, and within some three hundred 
 yards of the sea, was a low thatched cottage. It 
 was a goodly size. Over its door stood a bit of a 
 porch, and on its walls I trained roses and honey- 
 suckles. Fore and aft there was a little flower 
 garden, and to that garden, when not otherwise 
 employed, I devoted the main part of my time. 
 As long as I can remember I had a liking for 
 flowers, and when a boy could tell many of their 
 names as they ought to be called. It may seem a 
 bit of contradiction in nature that a man who 
 followed a lawless calling like a smuggler's, who 
 daily and nightly braved danger, until it became 
 almost a part of his life, should care for and tend 
 to such little bits of things as flowers ; but let it 
 convince you, sir, that such men sometimes have 
 hearts as well as other people. 
 
 " In that cottage my father lived and died. He had 
 been well to do, and saved a bit of money, enough? 
 had it been mine, to have bought a trim little ves- 
 sel to trade along the coast with, as when a boy I 
 often thought of doing ; but it was not to be, sir. 
 A rascally lawyer palavered him out of it with false 
 pretences. He persuaded him it warn't safe in his 
 hands ; he'd invest it in some outlandish scheme 
 and make more of it. So dad thought he was
 
 THE SMUGGLEK'S STOEY. 7 
 
 doing a good thing, and gave it to the lawyer's 
 care. He not only got rid of it, because he said 
 the speculation failed, but he made dad pay for 
 doing so, which he couldn't understand no how. 
 When the old man died I had a young wife and 
 child to keep, and only the old cottage to com. 
 mence my first cruise with. I had always a tough 
 will and a ready hand. I became a smuggler on my 
 own account, and before a year had passed I owned 
 as trim a little craft as ever spread her canvas to 
 the breeze or gave the revenue sharks the slip. 
 I have been in her when the sea rolled moun- 
 tains high, as the saying goes, when the best 
 ship in His Majesty's service would have scarcely 
 weathered the storm, and have felt myself as safe 
 as if I had been floating on a duck pond ; and 
 many a time, when chased by a royal cutter, the 
 saucy little clipper stood on her way, scarcely 
 veering a point till she snugly laid up in some 
 secure and secret port, known only to her helms- 
 man and her crew. 
 
 " In those days I was known about these parts 
 as Dare-devil Will. Three different times they 
 made me acquainted with the county gaol, but I 
 soon found my way out. And how do you think I 
 did it, sir ? Why, the magistrates about this 
 quarter knew it was more than they dare do to 
 commit me. Several of them and many of the
 
 8 THE SMUGGLER'S STORY. 
 
 gentry about here were in the habit, and had been 
 for years, of buying a sly keg or two. To 
 oblige them in this way I often ran great risks ; 
 and as one good turn deserves another, I took 
 care to jog their memory when their help was 
 needed. One of these magistrates was a parson, 
 as jolly an old rogue as ever lived, who hated 
 three-quarter grog as he hated old Nick, and had a 
 monstrous liking for the real nateral spirit and 
 prime bacca. Many's the run he's had his share of. 
 " There's an old saying, ' set a thief to catch a 
 thief.' So say I, " set a rogue to beat a rogue," 
 if you want him well flogged. Thus it was with 
 the parson ; he was known to be the most severe 
 magistrate for many miles round, and would send 
 a poor devil to gaol, without mercy, guilty or 
 innocent ; if he was suffering from indigestion ; or if 
 he happened to be kept waiting five minutes beyond 
 his dinner hour, it was certain to add another six 
 weeks to his victim ; and if he once got his grap- 
 pling irons athwart you, you might as well pray to 
 a stone wall. It so happened that one of the 
 revenue men, Tom Jones, had a sort of half- witted 
 nephew; the poor lad was fatherless and mother- 
 less, and must have starved, but for the kindness 
 of his uncle ; and the neighbours for miles round, 
 they all knew him, and gave him the kind word 
 and sup. He was a crazy, wild mountain sort of
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S STORY. 9 
 
 colt. I have met him many a dark and stormy 
 night, wandering barefoot ahout the hills, the rocks, 
 and the sea shore, his clothes hanging in rags 
 about him, as they had been torn by his scrambling 
 through the briars, or clambering the highest 
 cliffs ; he looked so weird-like then, with his long 
 hair streaming behind him, he has startled me, 
 standing a solitary object on some high rock, 
 shouting with glee as the lightning shot about 
 him. I sometimes thought the very devil himself 
 was in the poor boy's soul. You must not think 
 he was neglected, sir; far from it: at his uncle's he 
 had a comfortable home, but he never cared to stay 
 there, he was only happy when wandering. Well, 
 it so happened, one night, the parson lost two or 
 three fowls, and this poor lad was the last person 
 seen near his house ; he was accordingly taken up 
 and tried for robbery. We all strove to get him off, 
 and the parson knew he was a silly creature ; but 
 it was no use, he happened to be a little bilious 
 that morning, with drinking too much smuggled 
 rum, I suppose, over night, and he sent him to 
 prison for a long time. God only knows what he 
 suffered there ! He had neither the sense nor the 
 chance to tell ; but I leave you to judge something 
 of what his wild nature felt, when he saw the bright 
 moon shining between his prison bars, for, one 
 morning, like a caged bird, against the walls he had
 
 10 THE SMUGGLER'S STORY. 
 
 beaten himself to death. It was a cruel act, sir. of 
 the parson : I always thought so, and when I had 
 the chance, afterwards, I didn't forget to give him 
 a lift for it. 
 
 " Tom Jones took on sadly about the matter, 
 and it being somehow suspected that the parson, 
 did a little business with me, on the sly, he re- 
 solved to watch for his opportunity and have his 
 revenge. A couple of months after this event, I 
 had a first-rate run of the right sort of stuff, and 
 the old chap wanted a keg or two, besides some 
 bacca. I knew Tom was on the look out, and had 
 sworn he wouldn't let a chance slip, so what to do, 
 I was a bit run-a-ground. At last, I hit upon the 
 plan of dressing up my son Ben as a woman, 
 who was then a strapping, good-looking lad of 
 sixteen. We got a cart, and doing so, put him in 
 it my old woman first having given him a lesson 
 in nursing. The bacca we put in a bag and 
 clapped it on Ben's starn, a six-gallon keg we put 
 in a feather bed, having first taken out some of its 
 innards, and on this the boy was to lay, the big 
 part, where the keg was, for a pillow. A small 
 keg we rigged out for a child : this, Ben was to 
 dandle. When all was ship-shape, away we 
 started ; it was getting dark, and just as I was en- 
 tering the old parson's plantation, out rushes Tom 
 Jones, with a couple of mates at his elbow, and 
 seizes hold of the horse's Bead.
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S STORY. 11 
 
 " ' Hilloa !' said Tom, ' so Master Will, I have 
 caught you at last, have I ? and the old thief up 
 there is one of your crew, is he ? curse me, if 
 I didn't think so !' 
 
 " ' Why, Tom,' said I, ' you are not altogether 
 right in your figure head, I take it what are you 
 coming athwart me in this shape for ?' 
 
 " ' None of your palaver,' replied Tom, 'I'm not 
 a younker; you are not going to come over me, I can 
 tell yer ; you have done it before, I know, but 
 you don't do it again, so mates, look to the cart, 
 there.' 
 
 "At this moment, Ben let out a groan or two, in 
 the bottom of it. 
 
 " ' By the powers !' said an Irishman, one of 
 Tom's mates, ' if he hasn't got a dead body there, 
 I hear it a-groanin here's been murther, any- 
 how.' 
 
 " ' So there's been throat-cutting too, Will, has 
 there ? What will the old swab of a parson say to 
 that ? I thought you'd be hanged one day, and 
 now I'm sure of it let's look, mate, at the mur- 
 dered body. Shew a light here, will yer !' 
 
 " ' Ochone ! ochone !' shouted the Irishman, 
 holding up the lantern, ' sure, its a female woman, 
 the bla'guards have kilt a woman. Now, by my 
 soul, I hope they'll be scragged ! Tom, look, 
 she's not kilt, for see how she's a-groanin.' 
 B 2
 
 12 THE SMUGGLER'S STORY. 
 
 " ' Oh ! oh ! oh !' from Ben in the cart. On going 
 to them, I found they were about hauling him 
 out, so drawing Tom aside, I whispered in his ear, 
 at which he started, and ordering his shipmates to 
 desist, came with me a little to the fore of the cart. 
 
 " ' Shipmates ! ' said I, ' don't disturb that poor 
 lass. I know there's no ill-feeling existing between 
 us, except in the way of duty, and I know, too, 
 you have got a bit of spite against the old parson, 
 here ; to tell you the truth, we are no cater 
 cousins. I hate the old beggar, for his treatment 
 of poor Mad Tommy ; you're on the wrong scent 
 to-night ; take a pull at the bottle, whilst I let 
 you into the secret.' 
 
 "'What!' blazed out Tom, 'drink smuggled 
 brandy? damme, what do you take me for ? d'ye 
 think I ain't got no conscience ?' It was a weak 
 one, I knew, on this point, for Tom was a rare one 
 at his grog. 
 
 " ' Niver mind your conscience, this time, there's 
 nobody a-lookin,' exclaimed the Irishman, ' it's 
 not convanient, on a cold night like this ; I'll take 
 a pull, Will, anyhow. Here's long life to yer, and 
 may you niver die by a hempen noose.' After 
 taking a long pull, he smacked his lips "Oh, 
 Holy St. Patrick, Tom ! that's the stuff to warm 
 the cockles of your heart !' 
 
 " Poor Tom's scruples couldn't stand it any
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S STORY. 13 
 
 longer ; he seized hold of the bottle, just as the 
 Irishman was about to repeat the dose. 
 
 " ' Well,' said Tom, ' its a bad example, Pat, 
 and I only drink to keep you sober ; for your sake 
 I'll drown my conscience in the spirit, so go a- 
 head with the yarn, Will." * Shipmates,' I con- 
 tinued, 'you must know this poor lass comes 
 one night, to my cottage, with that there picca- 
 ninny in her arms. She hangs out signals of 
 distress, and tells my wife, as how she's been 
 ruined by the parson, who had cruelly deserted her, 
 after her giving birth to the younker, a real strong 
 one he is too, I can tell yer. So, taking pity on 
 the lass, I slung her a hammock. Well, ever since, 
 she seemed in a queer way, so thinks I, why 
 shouldn't the swab pay for his own villany. So, 
 you see, we claps her into the cart, on a feather 
 bed, with the picaninny in her arms, and now I'm 
 taking her to give the old chap a surprise.' 
 
 " Tom Jones was overcome with joy on hearing 
 this yarn, and vowed it should be all over the 
 country before the morrow. This was the very 
 thing I wanted ; for I wished to serve him out for 
 sending the poor idiot to gaol. 
 
 " 'Poor lass,' said Tom, looking at Ben, in the 
 cart, ' she's a fine lass, mate, rather big about 
 the starn, though,' this part of Ben being upper- 
 most, with the bacca.
 
 14 THE SMUGGLER'S STORY. 
 
 " ' Yes,' cried Pat, ' an the divil a bit will she 
 let you see her face.' 
 
 " ' No,' I replied, ' like enough, messmates, 
 she's shamefaced, poor thing.' 
 
 " ' No wonder,' said Tom, ' so will you be, Pat, 
 if you ever get in her sitiation.' At which Pat 
 shook and scratched his head, looked at Ben and 
 the child, and seemed to wonder whether it was 
 ever likely. 
 
 " ' Well, give us your fist,' continued Tom, ' I 
 respect you for sarving that old swab out ; but I 
 say, don't try to come over me again, 'cos it won't 
 answer, and though I don't wish you any harm, I 
 know I shall nab you one of these days, so look 
 out. You see, I'm an old tar, and ain't to be pa- 
 lavered no how. Here, shipmate, hold up the 
 glim, let's take another peep into the cart, and see 
 all's fair and square.' 
 
 " They looked at Ben again, and there he lay, 
 nursing the picaninny with the brandy in its 
 innards, as nat'ral as could be. So the old tar, as 
 was'nt to be come over, says, ' Never mind, lass, 
 never mind, the old swab as ruined you shall set 
 you ship-shape again, or my name's not Tom 
 Jones.' Then away he and his mates steer, as 
 nicely come over, I flatter myself, as ever they were 
 in their lives. When the decks were clear Ben 
 unships his toggery, removes the bacca, and we 
 takes it up to the parson's house, who the next
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S STORY. 15 
 
 morning woke to find himself notorious as the 
 father of a chance child whose mother he had sent 
 adrift ; and for years afterwards he was rated by 
 the men, and abused by the women. He 
 swore it was false and he could swear, when 
 he had a mind, I can tell you but no one be- 
 lieved him ; whilst strong suspicions got afloat 
 that he'd murdered the mother, as no one could 
 discover who or where she was. One fine morn- 
 ing, too, the whole country was in arms, for it was 
 said her bones were dug up in his cabbage garden ; 
 but it turned out to be only the remains of a leg of 
 mutton, which had been stolen and buried there 
 by his dog, ' Snap.' 
 
 " When my wife died, Ben was the only creature 
 left me in the world to care for, and I loved him, 
 sir, with all the love a father can feel for an only 
 child. At two-and-twenty he wanted to get mar- 
 ried, and settled like, so he anchored his hopes 
 upon a trim little lass, a servant to some very 
 respectable people living close at hand. She was 
 an orphan, as honest and good a girl as ever lived ; 
 yet, somehow, I couldn't bear the idea of their 
 getting spliced : it seemed to me, in my selfish 
 nature, another had no right to share my boy's 
 love. It was a sort of dog-in-the-manger wish, I 
 dare say, that he should waste his days on such an 
 old hulk as I was ; but had you seen him, and felt
 
 16 THE SMUGGLER'S STORY. 
 
 as I did, you might have blamed, but you 
 could not have wondered. He was as tall and 
 good-looking a lad, as you would wish to see. I 
 have never met with his like for strength, and 
 after his mother's death he proved a kind com- 
 panion and a stanch friend. Such a shipmate 
 to bear one company in all weathers, rough or 
 smooth, with a cheerful heart and willing hand, js 
 not often met with. At last, Ben proposed he 
 should bring his wife home to the cottage, and 
 they should live there still, as my children. To 
 this I consented. The marriage day was fixed. 
 Poor Mary commenced operations to furbish up 
 her scanty wardrobe, and set it shipshape for her 
 new situation. As to Ben, he was all adrift up 
 aloft, and could think or talk of nothing else but 
 the haven of happiness he was steering for. Well, 
 sir, the day came, and found us as merry as well 
 could be. The old parson spliced them together ; 
 the girls had a good blubber about it, though what 
 for I don't know, unless it was because they 
 warn't in the same predicament. Poor Ben, he 
 looked as big a fool as well could be. There was 
 Mary, too, so clean, and pretty, that I loved and 
 forgave her, though she had taken a link out (and 
 that the main one) from the cable which bound 
 father and son together. As for myself, I was 
 rigged out in new clothes ; that was the most un-
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S STORY. 17 
 
 comfortable part of the affair, for I felt much like 
 a pig in armour ; however, I didn't mind being 
 bottled up for an hour or two, my lad seemed 
 so happy. 
 
 "When the neighbours drank to him and his 
 bride, ' A long life and a merry one,' he looked 
 at her so hopeful, like, as if he saw that life as 
 clear afore him as if his hand was at the helm, 
 and the shoals and quicksands over which he must 
 pass were dangers unthought of, uncared for. 
 Ah ! at that moment, could I have owned the 
 trimmest fleet that ever sailed out of the Downs 
 to fight the enemies of England. I could not have 
 been prouder and happier, and I wouldn't have 
 made the exchange. You are, of course, a stranger 
 to such feelings they are sad ones now, and the 
 leaf in the log book of my memory where these 
 few hours are written the happiest I ever spent 
 will be the last one I shall turn over when I am 
 piped to my duty in the other world." 
 
 The old man here paused, and I could see the 
 tears flowing down his weather-beaten cheeks. 
 Deeming such sorrow sacred, I waited in silence 
 till he resumed : 
 
 " About the time of Ben's marriage, we were 
 expecting a cargo over from France ; and sure 
 enough, that very night, when we were all dancing 
 as merry as crickets, one of my mates, who had
 
 18 THE SMUGGLER'S STOBY. 
 
 been on the look-out, rushed in with the news that 
 he could just discern the cutter in the offing. So I 
 doffed my fine clothes, and was just making all sail 
 with Ben the rest of the guests, being mostly 
 comrades, had gone home to do the same when 
 Mary came and flung her arms round his neck, 
 and looking up into his face, like a frightened 
 child, said : ' Ben, dear, don't go ! for my sake, 
 for your own, dear Ben, pray, don't! Indeed, in- 
 deed, something dreadful will happen !' I thought 
 it only the silly ravings of a girl, and felt half 
 angry that Ben, who had been used to danger 
 since his childhood, should listen to her, or that 
 his cheeks should go pale, which I could see they 
 did, by the light of the lantern hanging over his 
 head ; but the next moment I was sorry for having 
 doubted his courage, for, like the true-hearted lad 
 he ever was, he gently put her aside, and replied : 
 ' Mary, don't be frightened, lass ; father is going, 
 and if he is not afraid, why should I be ? There, 
 calm thee girl, I shall soon be back ; and with a 
 few more lucky runs, there'll be an end of this sort 
 of life.' The boy had spoken truly : I had deter- 
 mined, for his sake, to leave off smuggling for it 
 was dangerous work at best and trade along the 
 coast. ' That end may be nearer than thee 
 thinks,' said Mary. ' Indeed, indeed, for God's 
 sake, listen to me and do not go.' Ay, how she
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S STORY. 19 
 
 did cling to him ! As I looked in her face that 
 moment there seemed something so strange so 
 warning, like, it made me shudder turn cold 
 even to my heart. I can feel that coldness 
 sometimes now, when I'm alone and thinking, 
 as I often do, over that fearful night. When I 
 was a boy I remembered seeing an old woman, 
 who they said was a witch ; she used to tell 
 folks when they were going to die. She told my 
 grandfather because he refused to cross her hand 
 with a piece of silver; and I was with him 
 when she did so. Sure enough, about the time 
 she said, he died. I didn't believe in her 
 witchery for all that. Yet, though Mary's face was 
 fair, young, and plump, and the old hag's yellow, 
 thin, and haggard in the look, I seemed to see the 
 same foretelling power. Though years had sepa- 
 rated the events, though I had scarcely thought of 
 the old hag since, it flashed athwart my mind, to- 
 gether with the truth of the old crone's prophecy. 
 
 " ' Ben,' said I, ' never mind me, lad, it's your 
 marriage night, and Mary, poor lass, is scared. 
 We'll land the stuff safe without you ; no harm 
 will come to me.' At this moment, crash ! came 
 the door, as it was blown open by a sudden gust of 
 wind. I started up, and Mary clung more closely 
 to Ben. It was some few moments before I reco- 
 vered myself enough to speak. There seemed
 
 20 THE SMUGGLER'S STORY. 
 
 summat very strange about it. When I did so, I 
 walked to the door and looked out into the dark- 
 ness. Not a sound could I hear but the wind 
 whistling through a few old trees which grew there- 
 abouts. It had shifted since evening, and was 
 blowing a bit of a gale. The sea was rolling on 
 the beach or lashing the rocks, and the rain fell 
 pattering on the roof and the little porch of my 
 cottage, or dripped from leaf to leaf on the high 
 rosetrees of my garden. It looked black enough, 
 but it had looked as dismal many a time before, 
 and never cost me a thought. All at once, a long 
 low whistle came from the direction of the sea. It 
 was the signal. The cutter was creeping in along 
 shore, and not a moment was to be lost. 
 
 " ' There's the signal, Ben ; will you stay with 
 Mary or go with me ? ' I asked. ' My lass, 
 replied the boy, as he released her arms, ' don't 
 make me a coward for the first time in my life.' 
 What will my comrades say ? Father, I'm with 
 you. God bless the girl ! We shall be soon back.' 
 We started through the rain and darkness. Just 
 at the slope of the hill, before losing sight of the 
 cottage, I looked in Ben's face, as the moon was 
 just peeping from behind a cloud. It was much paler 
 than I had ever seen it, and he was looking behind 
 him at Mary, who was still standing at the door- 
 way, her figure looking clear and distinct against
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S STORY. 21 
 
 the fire and lamplight of the room. A second 
 signal then came, and away we ran to join our 
 messmates. 
 
 "The part of the beach where they were waiting 
 was perhaps the most lonely spot along this line of 
 coast. The water, though generally deep, required 
 an old and sure hand to steer clear of the rocks ; 
 when once in though, it would take a sharp look- 
 out to discover a craft at anchor. Heaven only 
 knows how many a fine cargo my dad and myself 
 had helped in there. On one side rose a high 
 cliff. At its foot, facing the sea, was a tolerably 
 deep cavern, used by us for signals and for stow- 
 ing away lumber. On the other side was a steep 
 slope, covered with trees, and facing inland was 
 another thick with brushwood, and a dried-up 
 mill-stream in its centre, with high moss and 
 gorse-covered banks. On our meeting our mates, 
 we could see the cutter slowly making her way 
 within a few yards of the shore. Scarcely a minute 
 had elapsed before her anchor was let go, a hawser 
 cast on land, and all was ready to unship her 
 cargo. To it we went, keg after keg came ashore ; 
 not a voice broke through the silence, for we were 
 too intent on the work. Not a torch was used, 
 with the exception of one kept burning in the cave. 
 The rain had changed to a drizzling sort of shower 
 the wind came moaning along the dry mill-stream
 
 22 THE SMUGGLER'S STORY. 
 
 the last keg of a goodly lot was being hauled in 
 by Ben, when of a sudden a low whistle was 
 heard it made us all start. I did not like the 
 sound, and listened till I could hear my heart beat 
 against my ribs. It was not cowardice for I defy 
 any man to accuse me of that but it brought 
 with it, all at once, Mary and her warning, and 
 the old witch's prophecy. A few minutes and a 
 second whistle came from a distance. Too well I 
 guessed its meaning the revenue sharks were 
 upon us. In a moment the cutter was set adrift 
 and stood out to sea. My mates and myself knew 
 if we were taken it would be all Davy Jones with 
 us, so we resolved to have a tussle for it. At that 
 moment a sudden flash came from amongst the 
 trees to our left. The aim was a sure one, for, with 
 a deep groan, a comrade fell by my side. The next 
 minute we were fighting hand to hand. My ship- 
 mates knew one of their number lay in his blood, 
 and they fought not only for liberty but revenge. 
 In the darkness friends were hardly discernible 
 from foes, and many a blow was given and received 
 by messmates. It must have been a strange wild 
 scene, sir men fighting like tigers on a desolate 
 sea shore, with the rain falling and the wind howl- 
 ing. In half the time I have taken to tell it all 
 was over, and I found myself a prisoner in the 
 arms of two powerful sailors. My first thought
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S STORY. 23 
 
 was for Ben. I called his name, but my voice 
 seemed to die up the old mill-stream in an echo 
 again I called, but Ben was silent. With the 
 strength of a lion I broke from the grapnels that 
 held me, and fled up the bank. For some little 
 distance I could hear the king's men at my heels, 
 but putting them on the wrong tack I steered for 
 the cottage, and rushing in found Mary, poor lass, 
 with her face so white and scared, crying and 
 moaning over the half-burnt logs upon the hearth. 
 She started up with a scream on catching sight of 
 my figure-head, and flinging her arms around my 
 neck, shrieked out, ' Father, dear father, tell me 
 what has happened ?' 
 
 " ' Nothing, lass, nothing,' I replied, with a 
 choking voice, as I looked about anxiously to see 
 if my boy was there. 
 
 " ' You have killed him ! you have killed him !' 
 she cried, ' I see it all now. God help me ! God 
 help me !' and starting from me, as if I had really 
 murdered him I who loved him so much she fell 
 on her knees, hiding her face in her hands, and 
 weeping as though her poor little heart would break, 
 whilst my throat grew parched, and my eyes went 
 dim, not with tears no, no not with tears, for 
 they would have brought relief, but with anguish 
 too deep for tears ; and murmuring, ' I will go and 
 seek him,' I fled once more into the open air.
 
 24 THE SMUGGLER'S STORY. 
 
 The breeze cooled my burning brain, and I rushed 
 down towards the beach. It was all quiet now. 
 Not a living thing remained upon the spot, where 
 only a few minutes before I and others had been 
 fighting like tigers. My shipmates had mostly 
 been taken prisoners ; some had escaped. Could 
 Ben have done so ? No, for he would at once 
 have steered for the cottage. As I stood thus 
 thinking, hardly knowing what to do, or where to 
 turn for help, I saw a dark thing lying upon the 
 yellow sand. It seemed motionless. I looked 
 again ; it was the outline of a man, and I thought 
 of my poor boy. I ran and got the torch that still 
 burned in the cave. I felt blind with fear. It was 
 not Ben, but one of the revenue men, who, poor 
 fellow, had died in doing his duty. I pitied him, 
 and hoped it was not my own hand that struck 
 him down, for blood is a terrible thing to have on 
 the conscience. One of our men had been struck 
 with a bullet at my side, I remembered. Who 
 could that have been ? I did not search long for 
 the truth. Another dark form lay not far off, and 
 holding up the torch I could see the colour of the 
 clothes and recognise them. I went to the body, 
 turned it over on its face, and looked upon my son, 
 he who had been my companion through so many 
 years, the bridegroom of a few hours ! The eyes 
 that I had seen so full of love and happiness now
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S STORY. 25 
 
 fixed in death. They seemed to look on me with 
 reproach ; I thought, even, they accused me of the 
 murder. The red glare of the torch fell upon his 
 face so white, sir, so very white ! I shall never 
 forget it. Even now sometimes at night, or in 
 my dreams, the look comes back to me. I felt I 
 had led a bad life : this was my punishment : and 
 sinking on my knees, perhaps for the first time 
 in my life, I prayed that God would forgive me." 
 
 The old man paused to wipe the perspiration 
 from his brow, where it had settled thick as dew; 
 and after a pause he proceeded : 
 
 " Taking up the body I lifted it on my shoulder, 
 and took my way up the old mill-stream towards 
 the cottage. The rain had ceased, and the rays of 
 the moon fell upon me and my dreadful burthen. 
 I had not proceeded far before a something warm 
 slowly trickling down my face made me stop. I 
 thought at first it was perspiration, and drew my 
 hand across to remove it. The hand was red with 
 blood the blood of my boy. From side to side I 
 shifted the body to escape the stream, but still I 
 felt it, creeping, so slowly ; though but a few drops, 
 to me it seemed a river. At length I reached the 
 cottage, where but a few hours back we were so 
 happy where friends had met to wish him joy, 
 and years of future bliss. Where was the joy, the 
 hope, the bliss now? All gone ! Foundered on a 
 rock lost on the ocean of eternity !
 
 26 THE SMUGGLER'S STORY, 
 
 " To the bride of a few hours I took him, placed 
 him quietly on his bed, where poor Mary, moaning 
 and sobbing, threw herself at his side, laid his head 
 upon her breast, lulling him, like a child, to sleep. 
 Poor girl ! as yet she only dreamt the scene was 
 too terrible for her to believe. In my own heart I 
 almost wished she might never wake again to feel 
 her loss. As for myself, I had but one wish 
 to be struck down dead beside him. So hours 
 went past, till a loud knocking came to the 
 door. Too well I knew its meaning, and running 
 to the door, I placed a small beam of wood athwart 
 it, and barred the shutters. I thought to defend 
 my home whilst a stone remained ; but they would 
 not be beaten they fired the cottage, and I saw 
 the flames creeping slowly, then quickly over win- 
 dows, door, and roof ; I saw the ground about red 
 with the threatening flame, and then I thought of 
 the living and the dead,- so near and dear to me. 
 For myself I cared not, but the poor lass, her fate 
 was sad enough already, and heaven forbid that I 
 should look upon her perishing in the flames, so I 
 took down the beam from the door the king's men 
 rushed in, and dragged me away to gaol. My story, 
 now, is soon ended. I told you the way I slipped 
 through the hands of the magistrates before ; I did 
 so again, although it was a hard matter this time, 
 for you see, blood had been spilt. I was in prison
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S STORY. 27 
 
 for months, and the guineas had to flow pretty 
 freely from the pockets of my patrons, before what 
 you call justice thought herself sufficiently bribed 
 to let me slip through her fingers. Once free, 
 with an anxious heart my first steps were towards 
 my cottage, and it stood before me, a blackened 
 hull a wreck, deserted and desolate, its ruined 
 walls covering the ashes of my boy ; and one rose- 
 tree still bloomed in the little garden, the lone 
 and only living monument of all the days and 
 years, the joys and sorrows, which had been passed 
 and felt beneath that humble roof. 
 
 In the village I heard Mary had been taken, 
 kept for some time, and then sent to a distant 
 pail of the country, by the kind folks she had be- 
 fore lived with. I have never seen or heard from her 
 since. As to myself, I took to an honest calling 
 friends started up, where they were least expected, 
 and fortune has smiled upon me when I seemed 
 to have little need of it ; but I mustn't complain, 
 there is one, and the only harbour, left, which I 
 hope to reach at last, with a fair wind and clean 
 heart. I am now steering for it quickly, sir 
 quickly." 
 
 " What harbour, is that ?" I asked. 
 
 His answer was " The grave !"
 
 28 
 
 THE LOST DEED. 
 
 He that of greatest works is Finisher 
 
 Oft does them by the weakest minister ! 
 
 So Holy Writ in babes hath judgment shown, 
 
 When judges have been babes. "Gre&t floods have flown 
 
 From simple sources ; and great seas have dried, 
 
 When miracles have by the greatest been denied. 
 
 Oft expectation fails, and most oft there 
 
 Where most it promises ; and oft it hits, 
 
 Where hope is coldest, and despair most sits. 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 How often events, by chance and unexpectedly, come to pass, 
 Which you had not dared even to hope for ! 
 
 TERENCE. 
 
 MANY years ago, there lived in the village of 
 
 W , in one of the midland counties, a Squire 
 
 Wilton ; as jovial an old representative of that now 
 extinct race, as ever made the hills and valleys echo 
 with the huntsman's cheer. I say extinct, because 
 we have no thorough -bred fox-hunting squires now- 
 a-days. I believe they went out with breeches and 
 top boots. The whole aspect of country life is 
 changed. Now, no well-to-do farmer but gives his 
 son a college, or at least a boarding-school, educa- 
 tion. In the days of which I speak, such things 
 were little thought of ; as long as Tom, or Dick,
 
 THE LOST DEED. 29 
 
 Harry, or Bob could ride, smoke, shoot, drink, 
 swear, hunt, and knew something of farming, 
 write his own name, and spell a word of two 
 syllables, his education was complete. We cer- 
 tainly had no railways, then ; and the facility for 
 intercourse with large towns has done much to re- 
 fine the habits of our forefathers. It has taken 
 away much that was evil, and, alas, too ! introduced 
 many fashionable follies, that were never thought 
 of by our more primitive relations. In a puff of 
 smoke we are now wafted up to London ; then 
 we had bad roads and rickety stage coaches, or 
 brilliant four-horse stages, with their red-coated, 
 horn - blowing, perquisite - receiving guards and 
 drivers. A journey to London was a case of deep 
 reflection and will-making ; now, it is an " I-shall- 
 be-back-to-night" affair. However, to continue 
 my story : Squire Wilton was one of the old 
 school, and though he had lost his wife, and an 
 only son, (a very fine young fellow, the old gossips 
 say who broke his neck taking a stream), still 
 laughed, still drank, and still swore, and was only 
 kept in order by a wizen-faced old lady, the house- 
 keeping fixture of the establishment, whom he re- 
 garded as the necessary evil of his life, and to 
 whom he submitted as to no other mortal. She 
 was often known to send him blustering to bed, in 
 the middle of some drunken bout, amidst the ridi-
 
 30 THE LOST DEED. 
 
 cule and uproarious laughter of his companions, 
 who generally had to finish their mirth on the 
 outside of the door, whence they were summarily 
 ejected by the indignant shrew. 
 
 Little as such an idea may coincide with these 
 proceedings, old Squire Wilton and Dame Margery 
 were adored by the poor, for miles round, few ever 
 asking a favour in vain, or leaving the old hall 
 with an empty stomach. He was, besides, a libe- 
 ral master, and by this means bound his labourers 
 to his service, heart and soul. 
 
 One of the sweetest spots, in or near the village, 
 were the almshouses. They were the gift of an old 
 maid, and consisted of seven habitations, built in 
 the old English gable -thatched style, with case- 
 ment windows, and quaint-looking chimneys 
 whilst over the walls of each, twined the rose, 
 honeysuckle, or ivy. They stood detached, sur- 
 rounding a smooth, green, circular lawn, and each 
 boasting a trim little flower garden of its own. 
 What a good, kind old maid this must have been ! 
 I have often said, Bless her ! as I looked at her 
 gift, and the poor old people she had benefited. 
 Near to the almshouses was a large field, consist- 
 ing of several acres, which belonged to Squire 
 Wilton ; and some few years previous to his death, 
 an officious Magog of the village impounded a 
 poor man's donkey for grazing there. This func-
 
 THE LOST DEED. 31 
 
 tionary, in reporting the same to the squire, instead 
 of receiving an acknowledgment in thanks, or 
 lucre, for his zeal, was threatened with a kick on 
 the breech if he meddled with that animal again, 
 or any other. And the squire, finding from the 
 owner that the detention of the donkey had caused 
 considerable loss to him, at once sent for his 
 lawyer to draw up a deed of gift, bestowing the 
 field entire, as a freehold, for the sole use and 
 benefit of the poor folks of the village. The deed 
 was then deposited in the hands of Lawyer Quirk, 
 for his safe keeping, who was supposed to place 
 the same in one of the musty, rusty, iron-bound 
 boxes, containing the acts and deeds, the hopes 
 and fears, of the surrounding squirearchy, and their 
 successors. Now must we wave the enchanter's 
 wand, and 'ere the sand could turn within its hour 
 glass, add twenty years to our story. The old 
 squire had claimed his last inheritance : as Shake- 
 speare says 
 
 "Nothing can we call our own, but death, 
 And that small model of the barren earth 
 Which serves as paste and cover to our bones." 
 
 He had found that cover in the tomb of his ances- 
 tors. The old housekeeper, too, had passed away, 
 and in the church-yard might be seen the stone 
 covering her grave, and on it an epitaph desiring 
 the passer-by to stay and shed a tear not a very
 
 32 THE LOST DEED. 
 
 likely thing for any one to do. Indeed, it has 
 always seemed to me a very foolish, though 
 very common request in such places. Phineas 
 Quirk, the lawyer, he too had been dead ten 
 or a dozen years. The house in which he 
 had imparted to the rich, " the expensive 
 luxury" of his profession, had been turned 
 "inside out," to quote a rather impossible phrase, 
 and was now a village beershop. The old red- 
 brick dirty genteel building had lost the last 
 remains of its respectability, and stood a ruinous 
 monument of the many anxious hearts that had 
 once crossed its threshold. The successor to his 
 practice was a dapper, shrewd little gentleman, of 
 the name of Crawsuit. He inhabited a dapper 
 little house, a sort of cross between the high and 
 low gentry's residences. On his door he boasted 
 a large brass plate, cleaned every morning until 
 you could see your face in it ; and as members of 
 his household, he had a wife and maid-servant. 
 Like Lawyer Quirk, Squire Wilton had found a 
 successor in a distant relation, once a great roue, 
 when he had nothing of his own to spend, but who, 
 on becoming a great landholder, was transmogrified 
 into a religious rogue, a man without a particle of 
 true Christian principle in his composition, who, 
 like many others, clothed his parsimony, his op- 
 pression, and his hypocrisy in black cloth, and
 
 THE LOST DEED. 83 
 
 smothered each generous feeling in the ample 
 starched folds of his white neckcloth ; a being who, 
 if he had heen measured by the principle of 
 Lavater, that " the more honesty a man has the 
 less he affects the air of a saint," (a principle I 
 highly esteem) would have been found entirely 
 wanting. 
 
 The first act of this sanctimonious petrefaction 
 was to urge a continued war against the poor, who 
 claimed and enjoyed the right of use of the field 
 bestowed upon them by the squire. Unfortunately 
 it was not long before he discovered the deed of gift 
 was wanting. It had not been found amongst 
 the late Lawyer Quirk's papers, nor seen since his 
 death. Upon this discovery he asserted his claim. 
 The parish failed to maintain its right, and so the 
 poor, much to their discomfiture, lost the land. 
 
 Having thus laid the foundation of my story, I 
 resume it nine years after the said trial, and 
 twenty-nine years after the first grant of the dis- 
 puted property. It so happened in this village, as 
 in most others, a great rivalry existed between the 
 houses of Crawsuit, the lawyer, and Pimple, the 
 doctor, both factions being headed, as a matter of 
 course, by the respective wives : whatever one did, 
 the other deemed it the business of her life, for the 
 time being, to outdo. By this means a continuous 
 civil war was carried on under the most seeming
 
 84 THE LOST DEED. 
 
 friendly colours. If Mrs. Pimple owned a peculiar 
 china teapot, Mrs. Crawsuit must have a still more 
 peculiar china teapot. If Mrs. Pimple claimed her 
 descent in a direct line from somebody who landed 
 with William the Conqueror, Mrs. Crawsuit could 
 prove hers with somebody who came over with the 
 Komans. If one had disease of the head, the 
 other had disease of the heart. One thing certainly 
 Mrs. Pimple had a right to feel proud of she had 
 two children two fine children. Mrs. Crawsuit 
 was childless. She had only dreamt of having one 
 once, and then it was a mistake. Keenly did Mrs. 
 C. feel this, and much occasionally did she re- 
 proach her husband with the fact, who, poor man, 
 always replied with a bland smile, "He couldn't 
 help it." All this, though very exciting to the 
 two ladies, was the cause of unceasing annoyance 
 to their husbands, who would like to have been on 
 really friendly and neighbourly terms. 
 
 Under these circumstances, judge of the height 
 to which Mrs. Crawsuit's combative genius rose on 
 discovering, one fine morning, a lilliputian green- 
 house in the course of erection by the side of 
 Pimple's house. Her husband was dragged out of 
 bed to look at it, and was sent into bed again with 
 a torrent of indignation, because he simply replied, 
 "he dare say it would look very nice!" Then, 
 this wise individual, feeling he had offended, turned
 
 THE LOST DEED. 35 
 
 over against the wall, went to sleep again, dreamt 
 of " Roe versus Doe," forgot all about the green- 
 house and Mrs. Crawsuit too. 
 
 Mrs. C. in the mean time formed her own 
 plans. A friendly visit was paid that morning to 
 inquire after the health of Johnny Pimple, who 
 had got the measles. Mrs. C. remained calm even 
 under the stinging sarcasm, " and how is your 
 Dear me, how stupid I am, MY DEAR ! I was going 
 to say, child. I was really forgetting. You have 
 no little darlings." She coloured, bit her lip, and 
 hugged, with apparent warmth, little Florence 
 Pimple ; but that was all. The conversation, of 
 course, naturally turned upon the greenhouse. It 
 was a merely casual remark, apparently ; but Mrs. P. 
 "really had nothing to do with it" in reply " it 
 was her husband's doing." Mrs. C. knew better, 
 and stood to her guns ; but, after a series of unsuc- 
 cessful circumlocutive attacks and cunning repulses, 
 she retired in high dudgeon, to vent her ill temper 
 on the receiver-general her husband being out of 
 the way her maid of all work! One determina- 
 tion had certainly been arrived at, " she'd have a 
 greenhouse or know the reason why. If Mr. Craw- 
 suit did not consent not a moment's peace should 
 he have." The dapper little lawyer, quite innocent 
 of the intended outrage upon his domestic felicity, 
 finished a hard day's work, and sat himself down in 
 c2
 
 86 THE LOST DEED, 
 
 his easy chair to have his tea and read the Times, 
 his constant habit, when the enemy drew near and 
 opened fire. 
 
 " Well, James, dear," began the lady, "I've 
 been over to see Mrs. Pimple's greenhouse." 
 " Have you, my love ?" replied the hushand, in a 
 tone somewhat removed from pleasure at the an- 
 nouncement, experience having taught him what 
 to expect. "Yes, I have, indeed!" continued 
 Mrs. C., " and I really never saw such airs in my 
 life as the Pimples give themselves ; for all the 
 world as if others could not have a greenhouse as 
 well." 
 
 " Humph !" he ejaculated, scratching his head, 
 and diving deeper into the paper. 
 
 " I really have not common patience with such 
 stuck-up people, have you, dear ?" 
 
 Thus directly appealed to, he was obliged to 
 reply, and a noise between a grunt and a growl 
 issued from behind the mighty sheets of the 
 " Times" 
 
 "I did not ask you to grunt, dear, but to 
 speak," said Mrs. Crawsuit, in a warning tone. 
 
 " Grunt, my dear ! you are mistaken in using 
 s.uch an expression; but, really, don't say any 
 more about it this evening ; I've a most interest- 
 ing and important case to read Tomkins versus 
 Gingerapple and it is absolutely necessary I
 
 THE LOST DEED. 37 
 
 should render myself intimately acquainted with 
 its details ; it involves ' 
 
 " It involves fiddlesticks ! " interrupted his 
 spouse. " It is always the way I am treated when 
 I sit down to have an agreeable chat. I might as 
 well not be married at all, as have a husband 
 who is read, read, read, from morning until night, 
 neglecting his poor wife. No one else would be 
 such a fool as I have been, to stand it. You 
 know how meek-tempered I am, and that is the 
 reason you impose upon me. I was happy 
 enough before I married you." 
 
 " Well, well," replied Crawsuit, soothingly, " I 
 am so used to these agreeable chat's, you see, un- 
 fortunately, they generally end the same way my 
 pockets ; and I am not rich." 
 
 " Not rich, indeed ! You can waste your money 
 in other ways ; but let your poor wife ask for a 
 trifle, and you never can afford it. I have been a 
 good wife to you : when I am gone 
 
 *'0h, bother !" exclaimed Crawsuit, " don't make 
 a fool of yourself." These last words were accom- 
 panied with a look indignant husbands sometimes 
 venture to assume, as much as to say " Now, 
 madam, I natter myself, you can't answer that !" 
 This is a mistake husbands often make. What 
 will wives not answer, in order to have the last 
 word ? Without hesitation, on the present oc-
 
 38 THE LOST DEED. 
 
 casion the little man had a Roland for his Oliver. 
 
 "It is no matter, James, what I make of MY- 
 self : I might have had children ; what would you 
 have done then, I should like to know ? I left 
 a good home, to sacrifice myself to you, and one 
 day you will know my value ; but never mind, 
 never mind ; it was only yesterday I looked all 
 over your shirts, and sewed on the buttons ; 
 never mind, you'll break my heart, and then be 
 satisfied !" Here she burst into an hysterical fit 
 of weeping. This is, in most instances, an ex- 
 cellent panacea adopted on such occasions ; few 
 men like to see a woman crying, and the dapper 
 little lawyer had a great horror of it ; he had posi- 
 tively been known to stop badgering a witness 
 under similar circumstances. Of course Mrs. 
 Crawsuit knew the weakness, and lost no oppor- 
 tunity of profiting by the same. 
 
 "Now, for heaven's sake be quiet, there's a 
 dear," said he with the air of a martyr, " don't 
 cry ; you know how it annoys me." 
 
 " How should I know it ?" asked Mrs. Crawsuit, 
 " your conduct, Mr. Crawsuit, teaches me other- 
 wise." 
 
 " Well, you know I don't mean anything ; how 
 silly you are !" 
 
 " Then I may have a greenhouse, dear ?" ex- 
 claimed Mrs. C., stifling her sobs and drying up
 
 THE LOST DEED. 39 
 
 her tears, at the same time going to C. and 
 smoothing down his hair. If you, reader, should 
 happen to be a married man, I dare say you 
 know the knack ladies have of doing this sort of 
 thing when they want to wheedle something out 
 of you, and its extraordinary and irrisistible influ- 
 ence ; then comes the musically persuasive voice, 
 to hear it to feel the soft hand Oh, the artful- 
 ness of the sex ! What have you done ? Why, 
 I take it, much the same as Lawyer Crawsuit did, 
 when he said, " Yes, my dear, you may ; but don't 
 bother me any more." 
 
 The night following this conversation proved a 
 most anxious one to the lady, in what could she 
 excel the Pimples? "Should she have a handsome 
 chimney-pot stuck on her greenhouse ? " but then 
 there was no chimney; that would be no use. 
 "Should she have a weathercock?" that was 
 hardly the thing. At any rate, early the following 
 morning that very useful species of the biped tribe, 
 denominated maid -of -all -work, and christened 
 Susan, was despatched for John Jones, the legiti- 
 mate carpenter of the village. Now, Robert Short 
 was the one employed by the Pimple family, who, 
 being a recent importation, and intruder, was re- 
 garded as an' impertinent humbug by the said 
 John Jones. Great had been the latter's indigna- 
 tion on beholding the gradual development of the
 
 40 THE LOST DEED. 
 
 greenhouse, which he had inspected every morning, 
 at five o'clock, before the other came to work. 
 Equally great was the sudden revulsion of feeling 
 experienced by him, on finding he had the like 
 opportunity of displaying his skill ; and in order 
 to evince his workmanlike superiority, he, much to 
 the gratification of his employer, lost no time or 
 exertion to succeed. Such was the position of 
 affairs when John Jones, on one particular oc- 
 casion, retired from labour, at twelve o'clock, to 
 refresh the inner man that being his dinner 
 hour. He had hardly turned his back, before Mrs. 
 Crawsuit took advantage of his absence, (there 
 being no convenient room for two in the green- 
 house at the same time), to survey the edifice, 
 and in her mind's eye, compare its points to that 
 of the Pimples'. Whilst standing inside, thus 
 engaged, her eye suddenly rested on the dirty bit 
 of paper, or parchment, forming John Jones's 
 working cap, which he had removed from his head, 
 and left on a half-finished flower stand. Now a 
 dirty workman's cap is by no means an attractive 
 or agreeable object for a lady to scan minutely, yet 
 Mrs. Crawsuit was an inquisitive woman a woman 
 who began life in the belief, " It's never too late to 
 learn, and no opportunity should be despised." 
 It must have been a much stronger obstacle than 
 the present to keep her inquiring mind from exa-
 
 THE LOST DEED. 41 
 
 mining that old cap. She lifted it daintily with 
 finger and thumb, and her quick experienced eye 
 at once detected the hand-writing to be a lawyer's, 
 though the ink had faded, and was begrimed al- 
 most to illegibility. There were some names, too, 
 attracted her attention : they were those of Squire 
 Wilton and Lawyer Quirk ; but the folds hid 
 much more. 
 
 " Dear me !" soliloquized Mrs. Crawsuit, " what 
 can this be, I should like to know. Drat the folds ! 
 I wonder whether I could undo them and remake 
 it again. It is parchment. Perhaps it is a a 
 really, I don't know what ; but there is no harm 
 in seeing." No sooner said than done. She 
 read a few words ; a few words more ; and then, 
 Columbus himself, on discovering the new world, 
 could not have been more delighted. Away at once 
 she flew to her husband, who happened to be at 
 home. The husband at first thought her out 
 of her senses, but on carefully examining the 
 cap, admitted otherwise. A conference was held. 
 The dapper lawyer, with the air of a king, en- 
 throned himself in the large arm-chair of the back 
 parlour, dignified into " the study," to await some 
 great and most important event. John Jones at 
 length returned from dinner, and was taken in cus- 
 tody immediately by Mrs. Crawsuit and the maid : 
 his ejaculations of astonishment or notes of in-
 
 42 THE LOST DEED. 
 
 quiry were unheeded. Susan had positively secured 
 the broom in case of any resistance, and thus he 
 was led captive into the presence of the lawyer. 
 
 " That will do, my dear, that will do," slowly 
 and grandiloquently spoke Crawsuit, addressing 
 his wife; for however he gave way when in the 
 domestic sphere, in his professional capacity he 
 never forgot his dignity, so he pointed to the door, 
 intimating her absence was desirable. 
 
 " But, James, my dear, as the discoverer, my 
 place is 
 
 " Outside the door, my love ; women know no- 
 thing of business." Much against the lady's incli- 
 nation he conducted her to the passage, re-entered 
 the room, and closed the door. John Jones looked 
 on meanwhile in the utmost amazement, inwardly 
 recalling the past to discover a clue. Visions of 
 suspected murder or midnight robbery filled his 
 imagination, and though a big fellow, he trembled 
 at the glance the lawyer threw at him. Like a man 
 dreaming, the circumstances of a lifetime rushed 
 into his brain ; but he could find no explanation 
 of the present mystery. 
 
 " Your name is John Jones ?" said Mr. C., 
 having resumed his seat. 
 
 " Yes, sir ; and I hope" 
 
 "Silence, sir, and answer my questions, if you 
 please."
 
 THE LOST DEED. 43 
 
 " But I thought" 
 
 " You have no right to think. You are a native 
 of this village ?" 
 
 " Ye e s, sir ; I have been in these parts, and 
 my character" 
 
 " Silence, John Jones ! answer my questions. 
 I repeat, you are a native, and have lived in this 
 village for a considerable time ?" 
 
 I have ; and you know, sir, as how I wouldn't 
 do wrong." 
 
 " Silence, again," said the lawyer; " I know no 
 one in my professional capacity. To me you are as 
 a myth. You are a stranger." 
 
 John Jones, now more than ever convinced -this 
 was the prelude to some dreadful crime, for which 
 he was to be denounced, turned very pale, and his 
 bulky figure was seen to tremble, whilst Lawyer 
 Crawsuit feeling naturally a weakness to which we 
 of the human mould are prone, like the cat and 
 the mouse, rose six feet higher in his own impor- 
 tance, and enjoyed the carpenter's perturbation 
 with a thousand-fold stronger relish. 
 
 " You are now, sir, erecting a greenhouse adja- 
 cent to or near my house ?" 
 
 "I be, sir," was the reply. 
 
 " You have been at work on that greenhouse this 
 morning ?" 
 
 " Ye es, your honour !"
 
 44 THE LOST DEED. 
 
 "Do you usually wear a paper, otherwise a 
 parchment, cap when labouring at your calling ?" 
 
 " I do, sir." 
 
 " And is this the cap aforesaid ?" 
 
 " That be the cap, sir," answered the carpenter, 
 scratching his head in amazement. 
 
 " Now, sir," continued the lawyer, " I appeal to 
 you, as the father of a family, as the husband of a 
 wife, if you have one spark of that divine instinct 
 called Christian charity ; if your heart is not like 
 Lot's wife, turned into a pillar of stone I mean 
 salt ; if your bosom contains one germ of fellow- 
 feeling for suffering humanity, answer me truth- 
 fully, for the welfare of the poor of the parish 
 depends on your reply ; where, where, did you ob- 
 tain this cap ?" 
 
 Overcome by his exertions, the orator sank back 
 into his chair, whilst the meaning of the exhorta- 
 tion became addled in the brain of John Jones to 
 a confused mass of words, of which the only part 
 he understood was, that the happiness of the poor 
 folks depended, somehow or other, on his old 
 dirty cap. 
 
 " No equivocation : I await your reply," said 
 the lawyer, 
 
 "Well, sir, this be all a mystery to I ; but I'll 
 tell thee how I come by it ; there be no harm as I 
 knows on. I got it out of Lawyer Quirk's dust-
 
 THE LOST DEED. 45 
 
 hole. When he died, thee knows, the house was 
 turned inside out, and amongst the rubbish as 
 wasn't burnt, was that there bit of parchment, 
 which was swept up with other muck, and was 
 pitched into the dust heap. So says I to my mate, 
 says I, ' Comrade, this here would make a slap-up 
 waterproof cap.' 'Yes, says he.' So, says I, 
 ' Blow'd if I don't take it home,' And so I did, 
 and makes one on't; it's lasted I ever since, 
 mayhap some seven or eight years. That's the 
 truth, sir, as I'm a sinner." 
 
 " Good heavens ! " ejaculated the lawyer 
 " strange, very strange ! a wonderful, cap an 
 interposition of Providence ! Enough, my man. 
 I will give you a sovereign for it, nor is that all 
 you will receive." 
 
 " What ! for my old cap ? Tak' it and wel- 
 come, your honour. I wishes I had another, at 
 the same price. Bless your honour ! Good 
 morning." 
 
 Both parties then separated, well pleased with 
 the bargain John Jones to wonder and specu- 
 late over all the virtues discovered in his cap, and 
 the lawyer to commence proceedings against the 
 squire for the recovery of the field left by his pre- 
 decessor, to the poor, the cap being the identical 
 deed of gift which had been missing. Not long 
 elapsed before the new squire, much to his chagrin,
 
 46 THE LOST DEED. 
 
 was not only compelled to surrender it, but also to pay 
 a handsome rentage as compensation for the years 
 of his unjust occupation. Mr. Lawyer Crawsuit 
 v/as ever afterwards acknowledged the great and 
 presiding genius of the village. New clients came 
 in ; Mrs. Crawsuit now rested proudly on her 
 laurels, to the discomfiture of the Pimple family ; 
 her childlessness was to her no longer a reproach ; 
 henceforth " her family were the poor." This 
 she told Mrs. P., with upturned eyes, and a solemn 
 voice. Mrs. P. could not deny it, and effectually 
 was silenced. 
 
 The poor subscribed one shilling each, and gave 
 a feast in honour of John Jones, the carpenter, at 
 the Cat and Fiddle. The said worthy, in ac- 
 knowledging the vociferous applause which greeted 
 the proposal of his health, did as thousands of 
 his betters do returned thanks in prosy unintel- 
 ligible jargon, bringing, however, his harangue to 
 a termination with flying colours, by proposing the 
 following toast : " Ladies and gents, all, I hopes 
 as how you'll have another gallon at my expense, 
 to drink confusion to the squire as is living a 
 loving cup to the memory of him as is dead and 
 God's blessing on my wonderful Old Parchment 
 Cap !"
 
 47 
 
 SHATTERED HOPES. 
 
 " Pale as he is, here lay him, lay him down, 
 
 O lay his cold head on my pillow ; 
 Take off, take off these bridal weids, 
 
 And crown my careful head with willow. 
 
 Pale tho' thou art, yet hest, yet best beluv'd, 
 O could my warmth to life restore thee ; 
 
 Yet lye all night between my breists, 
 No youth lay ever there before thee. 
 
 Return, return, mournful, mournful bride, 
 
 Return, and dry thy useless sorrow ; 
 Thy luver needs none of thy sighs, 
 
 He lies a corpse in the Braes of Yarrow." 
 
 PERCY'S RELIQUES. 
 
 AT the door of a respectable house in the good old 
 cathedral city of , there stood two hired convey- 
 ances one delightful morning in the month of April, 
 1852. The drivers, by their brilliant white cotton 
 gloves, their highly-polished boots, and the flowers 
 they wore in their coats, were evidently arranged 
 for the purpose of doing honour to some momen- 
 tous event. Their bearing, too, bore unmistake- 
 able signs of importance. Familiarity with the 
 crowd was entirely at an end, for the present, and 
 the curious inquisitive glances of the youngsters,
 
 48 SHATTEKED HOPES. 
 
 with the cunningly-put interrogatories of the gos- 
 sip-loving women, were alike treated with silent 
 disdain. So matters stood for about half an hour, 
 the tedium of which was only relieved by sundry 
 boxes on the ears bestowed on a few dirty little 
 urchins, who ventured to overstep the bounds of 
 good behaviour, by endeavouring to peep through 
 the keyhole of the door before which the convey- 
 ances were stationed, or make mud pies on the 
 door steps. At length a head appeared over the 
 blinds of one of the lower windows. Some tele- 
 graphic signals were exchanged expressive to the 
 bystanders as the nod of Lord Burleigh in " The 
 Critic" and the chariot doors and steps were in- 
 stantly lowered. There was a general crowding 
 amongst the lookers-on. A cry of " They're 
 coming," then a quarrel between two women, and 
 a fight between two boys, each accusing the 
 other of "shoving," and a bridal party descends 
 all modest blushing tremor, innocent vanity, 
 or transient happiness. They jump into the 
 coaches, crack go the whips, and away they drive 
 to connect the firmest and most eventful link in 
 all that great chain of which the life of two indi- 
 viduals is composed. 
 
 Need we journey with them to the altar? No, 
 I think not, reader ; for it is more than probable 
 you have taken part in that interesting ceremony
 
 SHATTERED HOPES. 49 
 
 once, twice, perhaps thrice in your life and there- 
 fore know all about it ; it would be an old tale 
 hardly worth telling, except to those longing, 
 hoping, fearing young ladies who think, and live, 
 and dream of nothing else but to realize such an 
 occasion, and who, when the occasion has passed, 
 look too often in vain for the romance which their 
 own ideal natures conjured up. To such a class, 
 I am well aware, the very description of the dress 
 would be a source of deep interest ; however, suffice 
 it for us to know there was the usual amount of 
 tears expended, the usual blushes, the usual awk- 
 wardness, and the usual congratulations after it 
 was over. The signatures and other matters were 
 settled in the vestry, the clergyman wished them 
 happiness, buttoned up his pocket with the fee 
 in it, and departed ; the clerk followed in the foot- 
 steps of his superior, the sexton and pew-opener 
 did the same, and the happy party returned, to the 
 infinite delight of the little boys and girls who had 
 by this time transferred their favours and amuse- 
 ments from the door step to the gutter. 
 
 Were I writing for a newspaper I should, in an- 
 nouncing such an event, fall back upon those ever- 
 memorable and never-deviating characteristic de- 
 scriptions to which the reporters of this country 
 are attached " hymeneal altar" " lovely and ac- 
 complished" " happy pair," etcetera ; but being a
 
 60 SHATTERED HOPES. 
 
 private individual personally accountable to the 
 reader for the truth of my tale, I am content with less 
 aspiring terms, and in place of "lovely and accom- 
 plished, "insert the more humble but decidedly more 
 suitable acquisitions for a good wife of " pleasing, 
 affectionate, and domesticated," for such in every 
 sense the lady I speak of was one of three sisters 
 who had been left to struggle on together, with a 
 mere existence at their hands, but that existence 
 was raised by them into a respectable and honoured 
 position, thanks to their innate virtues, perse- 
 verance, and self-respect. Of these three the bride 
 of the day was the eldest about nine-and-twenty 
 who had, by the advice of her well-wishers, accepted 
 the offer of marriage from a Captain Western, a 
 good-looking manly young commander of an East 
 Indian trader, a native of the place, and but twenty- 
 seven years of age. 
 
 A fortnight passed over with the usual amount 
 of happiness attending such a period, when the 
 long vista of the future is obscured by the silver 
 cloud of love and novelty attending the days of our 
 honeymoon. At the end of that time their felicity 
 was brought to an abrupt termination by a man- 
 date from Captain Western's employers that he 
 should immediately resume command of his ship, 
 it having been chartered by government to sail 
 within a few days, carrying troops to the East, and
 
 
 SHATTERED HOPES. 51 
 
 from thence, on account of the firm, to sail for Aus- 
 tralia. Under these circumstances nothing was left 
 but an instant separation for a long, very long period _ 
 The parting on both sides was a sad one, as can 
 well be imagined, more so, perhaps, on the part of 
 the wife, she knowing how many dangers must 
 beset her husband's path 'ere they again should 
 meet. The moment came ! the last kiss was given, 
 the good bye spoken, and the young man left his 
 wife standing on the pier at Gravesend, to which 
 place she had accompanied him. It was a glorious 
 morning ; she watched the white sails unfurl she 
 regretted her words had been so few, but at such a 
 moment the voice is apt to fail, the tongue refuses 
 its office, and the longing, lingering gaze becomes 
 the only exponent of the bursting heart. Thus she 
 stood, heedless of the poor soldiers' wives who, like 
 herself, were suffering the greatest of their earthly- 
 trials heedless, too, of the poor children who had 
 looked their last upon their fathers. When the 
 vessel disappeared beyond the horizon then she 
 left the spot, and taking the earliest train returned 
 home to take her first lesson in the use of that hard 
 and bitter antidote called patience. 
 
 Time in its resistless course had swept nearly 
 two years away, and found Mrs. Western looking 
 forward to her husband's return. Letter after 
 letter had reached her, tracing his course from one 
 
 D
 
 52 SHATTERED HOPES. 
 
 great distance to another. On the passage to 
 Australia the ship had been, by a miracle as it 
 were, saved from destruction in a fearful storm 
 encountered. Some of his crew were washed over- 
 board, others were disabled, and by dint of unre- 
 mitting toil and anxiety he had reached Mel- 
 bourne the vessel completely worthless, his cargo 
 nearly all lost, and himself invalided by his severe 
 sufferings. Through instructions he received from 
 his employers in London, on recovering from his 
 sickness he left for England in another of their 
 homeward-bound vessels, commanded by a friend. 
 This fact was notified to Mrs. "Western in his last 
 letter, and his arrival was to be expected within 
 about a week of Christmas-day. During the in- 
 terval of his absence, I need hardly say all Mrs. 
 Western's thoughts had been centred on the event 
 of his return. Her marriage-dress had been 
 carefully and religiously preserved for the sole 
 purpose of wearing it in his sight again ; not a 
 walk not a visit not a pleasure that the most lov- 
 ing heart could wish or plan, but she had thought 
 of. Clothes, too, of all descriptions were prepared 
 for him all of them the labour of the long weary 
 months she had passed and as the time drew 
 near, months had been counted into weeks, weeks 
 into days, and days into hours. 
 
 At length came a letter, written almost within
 
 SHATTERED HOPES. 53 
 
 sight of England. Every word bespoke the pleasure 
 he anticipated in the meeting, and after enumerat- 
 ing heaven only knows how many Indian and 
 Australian treasures he was bringing her, concluded 
 thus : " We are within two days' sail of the 
 Downs should the wind keep fair : meet me in 
 London on Tuesday next, at the same place we 
 stayed at on our last visit. For God's sake come, my 
 darling ! I so long to see you, and cannot wait un- 
 til I reach ; bless its old cathedral towers, I 
 
 see them now, with you at my side. Heaven be 
 thanked, in a few days it will be so 'till then 
 I remain your loving and devoted husband, 
 
 " EGBERT WESTERN." 
 
 On receipt of this a few necessaries were got 
 ready, and on the Monday morniug Mrs. Western 
 started for London on her joyful errand, leaving 
 endless instructions behind her as to the changes 
 and preparations necessary for her husband's com- 
 fort on his arrival, and above all, those appertain- 
 ing to the Christmas-day, when a family gathering 
 was to give him a welcome home.* Arriving in 
 London, she hastened to the address of their 
 
 * It was the night, following Mrs. Western's departure for 
 London I took apartments in her sister's house, being strongly 
 recommended there by a friend, and thus became cognizant of 
 this sad episode of life.
 
 54 SHATTERED HOPES. 
 
 former lodgings, which happened to be in the 
 heart of the city. The first night passed over, 
 and the morning dawned when she might expect 
 his coming. A dull fog hung like a thick pall 
 over the metropolis, and a drizzling rain fell 
 through the entire day dim sickly-looking lights 
 struggled through thickly grimed and painted 
 windows from rooms where countless thousands 
 were bartered for dense columns of smoke just 
 rose above the thousand chimneys, then fell in 
 showers of blacks upon the heads of the busy 
 people hurrying to and fro in the streets, or lodging 
 upon the windows, and nooks and crevices of the 
 houses, adding to their begrimed and uninteresting 
 appearance. From ^earliest dawn, waggons laden 
 with the produce of every quarter of the globe 
 from the sunny regions of the south, or the ice- 
 bound north, rumbled along ; whilst lighter ve- 
 hicles in their ceaseless rattle completed the din of 
 London life. All these strange sights and sounds 
 were alike unheeded by the anxious lonely watcher 
 she had eyes but for one object now to look on 
 her husband ears but to listen for the fall 
 of his feet upon the stairs ; and so hoping and 
 listening she passed from chair to window, and 
 from window to chair, till morning, afternoon, and 
 at length night fell once more upon the busy 
 world at her feet. Then the noise without sub-
 
 SHATTERED HOPES. 55 
 
 sided, leaving a thousand-fold stronger sense of 
 loneliness upon her heart. In this vast city she 
 found a pang of utter solitude, which was intensi- 
 fied and increased by the knowledge of the wond- 
 rous life around her. Not so feels the sorrow - 
 stricken wanderer in the midst of green fields, 
 flower-studded hedgerows and noble trees, for 
 there he has an inward assurance that God is 
 watching over him it is whispered to him in the 
 glorious beauty of his surrounding works in every 
 passing breeze, in the melody of every bird, in 
 the blue sky, in the twinkling of the stars. 
 Consolation such as this is lost in the filth, 
 the bustle, the choking atmosphere, the crime, 
 and the drunkenness af a great city. Wearily the 
 long hours of the night passed, and again dull 
 morning broke, without bringing her ease, but 
 towards noon a letter, written in a strange hand, 
 was given her : it ran as follows : 
 
 " Deal. 
 
 " Dear Madam I am sorry to inform you your 
 husband is suffering from an accident he unfor- 
 tunately met with. On receipt of this, I should 
 advise your immediate departure from London, for 
 this place. You will find him at the enclosed ad- 
 dress. Yours very obediently, 
 
 "JOHN MARTIN." 
 
 By the first train Mrs. Western started for
 
 56 SHATTERED HOPES. 
 
 Deal. As the train passed on its way, swift as 
 was its speed, it could not keep pace with the 
 quick impatient throbbings of her heart ; she en' 
 vied every bird that glided past with swifter wing. 
 The lights of Deal came at length in view people 
 wondered at her anxious looks and nervous 
 gestures ; had they known the feelings which 
 prompted them, their wonder must have turned 
 to pity. The noisy convulsive puffings of the 
 mighty engine became more measured, a shrill and 
 startling whistle broke on the night air, and the 
 train stopped. On Mrs. Western alighting, she 
 looked around in vain for her husband for despite 
 the information conveyed in the letter, it is some- 
 times hard to believe or credit " the messenger of 
 ill," and hope tenaciously clung that he might 
 be there to meet her. On not finding him, the 
 first sudden horror of a certain impending calamity 
 shot like an arrow through her brain the blow 
 seemed indefinite, but fearfully intense it sent 
 her blood with a chill through every vein. Calling 
 a coach, she ordered the man to drive with all 
 speed to the address she had received. 
 
 It was not more than ten o'clock, an hour in 
 London when the dissipation of life is barely 
 commenced when from courts and alleys (which 
 are as numerous as arteries in the body of some 
 monstrous Megalosaur) come or rather crawl
 
 SHATTERED HOPES. 57 
 
 the diseased and sin-stricken multitude, to hide 
 their misery or excite their sluggish blood in mad 
 riot, secret crime, and drunken debauchery ; but 
 here in the dear, quaint old towns of England, 
 such as Deal, at ten o'clock a quiet reigns more 
 profound than the great Babylonian capital can 
 boast of in any hour of the twenty-four. So 
 through the silent streets the coach wheels rattled, 
 in their echo seeming to wake the strange shadows 
 of grim spectres that started out from the dark 
 nooks, and corners, and crevices of the old- 
 fashioned houses. The driver stopped at last 
 before a clean-looking inn of modest but respectable 
 pretensions. He knocked at the door, and the 
 landlady, a good, clean, motherly-looking old soul, 
 who had evidently been anxiously waiting Mrs. 
 Western's arrival, came out, assisted her guest to 
 alight, and discharging the coach conducted her 
 , with great consideration and kindness to a small 
 private room. Once there, Mrs. Western sunk 
 into a chair, and gazed with imploring yet fearing 
 eyes full upon the face of the conductress. Not a 
 word was spoken for a minute or so, but gradually 
 an expression of the most profound sympathy and 
 sorrow spread over the old woman's face, and big 
 tears came rolling down her cheeks. For a time 
 the young wife looked on in imploring agony, 
 burning, yet fearing to ask, until at last came 
 forth the terrible words
 
 58 SHATTERED HOPES. 
 
 ft . For God's sake tell me where is my husband ?" 
 
 " I cannot say, madam I cannot say, at least 
 he be very ill !" 
 
 " 111, and I not at his side ? Oh ! feel for a 
 wife's anguish and tell me." 
 
 " I do, poor lassie, I do. Dear, dear-e me, what 
 shall I say I would that my old man wer here, 
 he'd tell thee better ner me." The old woman sat 
 herself down and rocked to and fro, at an apparent 
 loss for words to express her feelings or give utter- 
 ance to the secret. 
 
 " Woman ! woman !" cried Mrs. Western, " feel 
 for me as for yourself ; I am prepared to hear the 
 worst and do not fear it anything is better than 
 this suspense." 
 
 " Ay, Ay, but I'm an old woman ; I've had my 
 sorrows, but none so bad as this but it were bet- 
 ter told perhaps he met with an accident." 
 
 " What was it ? where is he ?" 
 
 " I'm coming to it, lassie too soon for thee, I 
 fear. He met with a fall, you see, and he hurt his 
 poor back. The doctor thought at first there were 
 not so much the matter : then they brought him 
 here." 
 
 " Here, here ! in this house, and I sit talking 
 like this ! Oh, take me to him ; the very sight of 
 me, I know, will make him better." 
 
 " I fear me not ! I fear me not ! The sight of 
 thee will hardly gladden his poor eyes again."
 
 SHATTEBED HOPES. 59 
 
 " Oh, God help me ! Tell me, do you mean he 
 is dead ?" 
 
 " The Lord's will be done ! I canna tell thee 
 that ; have courage, and I'll take thee where he is." 
 
 She then took the candle from the table, and led 
 the way up a narrow flight of stairs. Mrs. Western 
 followed with almost unconscious steps up the first 
 landing, when the landlady paused, looked back 
 with a troubled face, and said, " The Lord's will 
 be done ! it may be for the best ; have courage 
 will 'ee." 
 
 " I will, I will, I am prepared, mother ; now 
 go on." 
 
 The old woman then laid her hand on the door 
 facing the stairs, and turning the handle opened it. 
 At that moment a gust of wind coming through 
 the open lattice extinguished the candle, and she, 
 with a scream, started back with fright ; but the 
 heart of the wife found no room for fear : when she 
 beheld in the pale beams of the moon a white mo,- 
 tionless object, stark, and human-like, outstretched 
 upon the bed, she rushed towards it, and instinc- 
 tively drawing aside the sheet, beheld the beloved 
 features of her husband fixed in death before her, 
 looking ghastly and terrible in the lambent rays 
 from heaven. Far, far upon the night breeze arose 
 a fearful shriek ; the wayfarer as he trod the streets 
 of Deal shuddered as he heard it, and many paused 
 
 D2
 
 60 SHATTERED HOPES. 
 
 upon their way to know its meaning ; but in vain ! 
 It came it passed away. The town and its inha- 
 bitants still slept, unmindful, and uncaring for a 
 sister's sorrow. 
 
 The people of the inn rushed up stairs all 
 there was silence now the living had but fainted 
 on the bosom of the dead. 
 
 It appeared that two days previously, whilst 
 smoking a cigar and stepping towards a boat to 
 land, he turned to make some jocular remark to 
 a friend, when his foot slipped, he fell back, and 
 died within a few hours from the effects. Thus, 
 though he had passed over thousands of miles and 
 escaped so many dangers, the grim spectre seized 
 him when apparently most secure. 
 
 Oh ! wise, wise Hamlet ! 
 
 "If it be now, 'tis not to come ; if it be not to 
 come, it will be now, yet it will come : the readi- 
 ness is all." " There's a divinity that shapes our 
 ends, rough hew them how you will."
 
 Gl 
 
 AN IRISHMAN'S DOUBLE. 
 
 In the year 1795, a trial took place in Paris which created 
 considerable interest, from the respectability of the accused 
 person, a Monsieur Lesurques. 
 
 A courier when in charge of the mail was murdered one even- 
 ing at Lieursaint, and upon the evidence of most creditable wit- 
 nesses, Monsieur Lesurques was sworn to as being the assassin ; 
 besides which, a string of most singular coincidences occurred 
 to warrant the truth of the accusation. He was tried found 
 guilty, and a fatal stroke of the guillotine consummated the 
 lamented error of justice ; for it was afterwards discovered that 
 the executed man was perfectly innocent of the crime, and the 
 true murderer was a notorious robber between whom and 
 Monsieur Lesurques there existed the most marvellous re- 
 semblance in face, height, voice, and indeed every particular 
 except virtue. 
 
 THANKS to Mr. Charles Kean, many people are 
 acquainted with the above facts from the English 
 dramatic translation of " The Courier of Lyons ;" 
 and this must he considered as only one instance 
 of the many where mistaken identity has brought 
 upon the innocent misery, shame, and death. 
 When we reflect upon the probability of error in 
 all circumstantial evidence, however clear that 
 evidence may appear, does it not seem that capital 
 punishment never in such cases should be resorted
 
 62 AN IRISHMAN'S DOUBLE. 
 
 to ? better that the guilty should escape than the 
 innocent suffer. At all times death is a fearful al- 
 ternative, coldly and deliberately to prepare, by 
 means of prayer and good living (that is, if the 
 poor wretch be able to eat) a fellow-creature, and 
 then to lead him forth to slaughter, like a fatted 
 calf, gratifying by his last convulsive struggles 
 thousands of eager and wicked hearts, whose eyes 
 and thoughts revel in the morbid horror of such a 
 sight. As an instance of the almost incredible 
 callousness to which vice may reduce our natures, 
 and the utter uselessness of such exhibitions to 
 impress a fearful lesson upon the criminal off- 
 shoots of society I recollect a circumstance that 
 occurred at Bristol, on the occasion of a young 
 girl being hanged for beating her mistress's brains 
 out with a stone. (The circumstances of this mur- 
 der may still be remembered, from the coolness 
 and systematic manner in which the horrible crime 
 was perpetrated, as also from the fact of the mur- 
 deress, with the corpse at her feet, cooking pan- 
 cakes and concocting other luxuries to enjoy her- 
 self with. The execution of this girl, too, made 
 some noise at the time, in consequence of her 
 determined resistance she being actually dragged 
 from the cell on to the scaffold, with the most 
 appalling screams. Thus the rope was fastened 
 round her neck, and in this state she was launched
 
 AN IRISHMAN'S DOUBLE. 63 
 
 into eternity a murderess certainly, but to my 
 mind, judging from all the particulars of the case, 
 an undoubted maniac also.) 
 
 On the morning of these occurrences, I was 
 walking along one of the narrow dirty thoroughfares 
 of Bristol, to make a short cut into Wine street, 
 when a slatternly girl of about seventeen attracted 
 my attention, leaning against a door. Another 
 female was passing at the time, to whom the crea- 
 ture shouted " I say, Sue, are you going to see 
 our Sal tucked up this morning ?" in about the 
 same tone as one would invite the other to a wild- 
 beast show. This was the murderess's sister. 
 However deserving of death the culprit may be, as 
 it is utterly impossible, as in the case of the girl 
 just spoken of, for us to have power against the 
 will over the soul, and force repentance, so is it 
 with me a serious doubt that we are empowered 
 by any law, human or divine to plunge a fellow- 
 creature into eternal damnation, or even, should he 
 repent, to usurp the authority of God by holding 
 the balance of life and death. If positively guilty 
 I would not have them let loose upon society. 
 Treat them as wild beasts, cage them : death is 
 mercy ; let the criminal, shut from all human 
 sympathy, feel the anguish of a remorse that must 
 one day come. The upholders of such judicial 
 proceedings may quote Scripture to further their
 
 64 AN IRISHMAN'S DOUBLE. 
 
 ends, but I, as an opponent, could equally do so : 
 besides which, there is scarcely a creed extant, 
 however monstrous in its docrines, but its pro- 
 fessors may and do lay their fingers on a text and 
 distort it to suit their purposes. 
 
 I have been led into this train of thought by 
 the sad fact heading this sketch inducing the 
 contemplation of crime and its punishment, to- 
 gether with the chance of mistaken identity as 
 further illustrated by the circumstances I am 
 about to relate, and for the truth of which I am 
 able to vouch. 
 
 I was sitting by the fire at my lodgings, in a 
 town situated in the southern portion of England, 
 and happened to be in a very bad humour; for that 
 bane to every bachelor's life, " a washerwoman," 
 had disappointed me, and was a fortnight behind 
 her time in returning the last bundle of linen with 
 which she had been entrusted. It was on this oc- 
 casion the more to be regretted, as not having 
 much with me my stock had run short, and I was 
 invited out to meet a few friends and strangers, 
 under circumstances which rendered clean linen 
 rather indispensable. Whilst sitting thus in moody 
 silence, inwardly vowing vengeance against the 
 delinquent washerwoman, a knock came to the 
 door. " Come in," I shouted and in walked the 
 very individual. " So you have ccme at last, Mrs.
 
 AN IRISHMAN'S DOUBLE. 65 
 
 Murphy ; what the deuce do you mean hy keeping 
 my clothes all this time ? Really it is too bad ; I 
 shall employ somebody else, or you will be the 
 death of me, I feel convinced. " Plaize yer 
 honour to look over it this once," said Mrs Murphy, 
 in a whining tone. " ' Once,' what do you mean 
 by ' once ?' this is the second time in a few 
 weeks. You will ruin me, woman !" 
 
 " Plaise yer honour, I couldn't help it." 
 
 " Couldn't help it ! Nonsense !" I replied, 
 growing more indignant ; " that is just what you 
 said when you thrust the iron through my shirt- 
 front the last time you brought the things home. 
 That is what you all say when I complain of the 
 gradual and incessant disappearance of my buttons. 
 I wonder you have not more feeling for a man 
 without a wife." 
 
 " An' sure it's sorry I am ; but if ye'll jist look 
 over it this once ; I've been in mighty throuble, 
 an' that's the thruth on't. I was a going to axe 
 yer honour, if ye'd be plaised to listen and give me 
 a bit of advice, for, ochone ! it's sad my heart is 
 now, anyway." 
 
 " It's more than you deserve," I replied, some- 
 what mollified by the tears I saw gathering in the 
 poor woman's eyes ; " 111 listen, and do the best I 
 can for you. Go on." 
 
 However well we may be acquainted with the
 
 66 AN IRISHMAN'S DOUBLE. 
 
 usual insincerity of " Irish blarney," and the 
 ever ready commodity it is, whereby to purchase 
 the smallest favour with, yet is there a some- 
 thing peculiarly insinuating in the tone and man- 
 ner of its delivery, that whilst feeling ourselves 
 humbugged we submit so on this occasion. I did 
 not, however, regret my amiability and patience, 
 but found myself repaid by the singularity and 
 truth of the woman's story. Thus it ran : 
 
 " You must know that Mike that's my husband, 
 yer honour some few years ago was as honest a 
 lad as ever confissed his sins to the blessed Father 
 Maguire or ate pratees ; but times got very bad : 
 for weeks poor Mike was out of work, and all that 
 time we had to live upon the bit o' washin' I could 
 get an' little enough it was to support two grown 
 up people an' two little childers ; but there was no 
 help, so I said, " Thy will be done !" But not 
 so, Mike : he took on sadly, for he was always a 
 good lad, an' had a kind heart, yer honour. He 
 didn't like to see me a-workin' my flesh to the very 
 bones to get the bit an' the sup. You see, I 
 thought that times would mind when the sun- 
 shiny weather came in, but they got worse instead 
 of betther, an' the pratees got so scarce an' dear 
 that many a night we took to our beds wid empty 
 stomachs and aching hearts. Well, sir, one night 
 I had been sitting all alone, looking at the two or
 
 AN IKISHMAN'S DOUBLE. 67 
 
 three bits o' coal as was a-burnin' in the fire-place 
 which I had picked up in the streets, a wishin' for 
 Mike to come home and warm hisself before they 
 quite went out, and it's wonderin' I was what 
 kept him so long, when I hears his footsteps on 
 the stairs. He came into the room lookin' so white 
 and scared that all my blood went cold ; he was 
 carryin' a basket full of bread an' pratees an' meat, 
 besides which he showed me in his hand some 
 bright shinin' pieces of goold. Instead of feelin' 
 happy at the sight of thim I felt ten times more 
 miserable than I was afore, for I knew the boy had 
 been and done wrong. I axed him where they came 
 from, and he tould me to * niver mind but be con- 
 tint, that I shouldn't be afther bein' hungry niver 
 any more.' Then he said, A frind, who wished 
 to save us from starvation, had sent it.' So I 
 tried to think it was all right, for Mike had niver 
 desaved me : and we had the bit an' the sup 
 an' went to bed. But it was heavy, somehow, my 
 supper lay upon my conscience that night not a 
 wink of sleep could I get, or Mike either, which 
 made me feel all the worse : so it's glad I was to 
 see the morning a-breaking, for then I prayed that 
 my fears might not prove thrue ; but, ochone, 
 ochone ! jist at that moment came a loud knockin' 
 at the street door. Mike jumped out of bed as if 
 he'd been shot ; ' For the love of God, Betty,' said 
 he, ' don't let them in, or I'm ruined intirely.'
 
 68 AN IRISHMAN'S DOUBLE. 
 
 " ' Who are they, Mike,' said I ; ' What had 
 you been afther doin' that you should be so 
 scared ?' ' Don't ax me ; the divil tempted me 
 an' hunger made me do it. They're coming up 
 stairs ; oh, what'll I do ! what'll I do it's mad I 
 shall go.' Well, yer honour, the next moment the 
 room was filled with the perleece ; I thried to save 
 him, and tould thim it was hunger as made him 
 stale. I offered all the things back, but it wer no 
 use ; they dragged him away, put him in prison, 
 and oh ! it's hea,vy my heart wer then, anyway. 
 Many a time I walked round an' round the big, 
 cruel shtone walls in the hopes of seein' him ; but 
 it were no use he was tried, found guilty of break- 
 in' into another man's house an' stalin', an' he 
 was sintenced to ten years' transportation. Whilst 
 he was a being tried I stood in the coorthouse 
 hopin' to cheer the poor lad, by a-smilin' at him, 
 but I could see the big large tears a-comin' into 
 his eyes ; and when they sintenced him, it's scream 
 I did, and faintin' away, was carried out o' the 
 coort. I got home at last, an' sat for many 
 a-day a cryin' and keenin whilst the childers wer 
 starvin' ; when I thought o' this I made up my 
 mind to set to an' do a something so I went 
 about from house to house 'till I got work. Ah, 
 sure, sir, it's many a man before Mike that an 
 empty stomach or starvin' wife and childers have
 
 AN IRISHMAN'S DOUBLE. 69 
 
 made a thief of. You who have plenty may talk 
 of contintment, but it's hard to feel it, when you 
 crave a bit of bread, whilst others have more nor 
 enough and give what would satisfy the hunger to 
 their dogs ; but the Lord presarve you from feelin' 
 the temptation. 
 
 "About two years aftherPoor Mike had been gone, 
 a letther was put into my hand by the postman. It 
 came from Ireland, an' said that an aunt of mine 
 in the ould counthry was dead, an' she'd left me 
 her fortune which was one hundred pounds. Oh 
 thin sure, wasn't it glad I was, and didn't I fancy 
 myself the richest woman in all the world its 
 pray I did, to the Holy Virgin an' all the blessed 
 saints to send Mike back to me, soon ; but it wer 
 all o' no use, so I thoucht I'd sit myself down an' 
 wait patiently an' I took a house an' lit lodgings, 
 afther I had furnished it beautiful from top to 
 bottom. I still did a bit in the washin way 
 o'course, to save all I could against the boy's com- 
 ing back. Five years had gone, when about six 
 months ago who should I see sittin by the fire one 
 night when I came home a'srnokin his pipe, an 
 lookin as happy as ever he did in the ould days 
 but Mike ! Oh sure, bad luck to me ! for its run 
 into his arms I did an' its mighty hard he 
 squeezed me with joy ; then I looked at him he 
 was a bit browner maybe in the face, an' I thoucht
 
 70 AN IEISHMAN'S DOUBLE. 
 
 him a little taller sartain sure his clothes wer 
 shabbier ; but that was easily accounted for 
 thim's all the alterations I could see, an' its happy 
 we two wer that evenin anyhow. He tould me he 
 had got a ticket-of-lave for his good conduct, so 
 we had a very happy chat, 'till I told him of my 
 good fortun, an' its then beside hisself wid joy 
 he was. For the fust few weeks he seem'd kinder 
 ner ever, and thin he changed ; kept bad com- 
 pany got roaring dhrunk all night, and went to 
 bed to get hisself sober agin in the day. My 
 lodgers he frightened away ; he spent all my money 
 as fast as I could get it, an' the deuce a bit o' 
 work would he do. He said he was a gintleman, 
 an' he'd spend his money like one ; so he did, for 
 in five months all my fortune and the hard earn- 
 ings of many a weary day was gone. My only 
 hope was when he'd got no more money he'd go 
 an' lave me ; but no he sould all my beautiful 
 furniture, to the very bed we had under us ; an' 
 one night I came home tired enough after takin 
 home some washin, an' its find I did he'd been 
 and sowld my wash tubs, the only thing I'd lift to 
 keep body an' soul together ; so I was lift without 
 a penny or the manes of gettin one. Some kind 
 ladies an' gintlemen subscribed to set me on my 
 legs agin, and och sure, its fearful I was he'd come 
 back ! It's many a big tear I dropped to think
 
 AN IRISHMAN'S DOUBLE. 71 
 
 he'd behaved so cruelly to me, afther the days an' 
 nights an' months of watchin, sorrowin, an' workin 
 I'd gone through for his sake : but, thinks I, 
 the childers mustn't starve so I sits to work agin, 
 and when I felt the big tear come up from my 
 heart, enough to choke me, I says, ' Mavourneen, 
 Mavourneen,' an' sent it down agin. Well, may-be 
 a week ago I'd been assistin a lady to clane her 
 home, an' feelin very tired, I opened my room 
 door, when who should I see sated in the very 
 chair a-smokin his pipe, but Mike, jist as I'd seen 
 him afore. It's then for the fust time in my life 
 the divil came into my sowl, an' I thoucht I could 
 kill him. 
 
 " ' Ah, Betty, my jewel, an' it's there ye are,' 
 said he ' an bless ye, darlin !' 
 
 " Bad luck an' the divil fly away wid yer,' said 
 I, seizin a stool, the first thing that came to hand. 
 ' Rape off ! kape off ! or it's hanged I'll be for 
 murtherin you, if ye don't kape out o' this house.' 
 
 " ' Why, Betty, yer dreamin, sure ; don't yer 
 know me ?' 
 
 ' ' I do, ye blackguard ; ye've ruined me once, 
 an' now ye've come back to ruin me agin.' 
 
 " ' An' sure, Betty, I niver ruined ye in all my 
 Hie. The Lord presarve us, she's gone mad ! ' he 
 cried, starin at me so quare. 
 
 " 'Mad !' said I, 'it's not your fault that I'm
 
 72 AN IBISHMAN'S DOUBLE. 
 
 not ochone ! it's miserable I am, any way ; it's 
 many a long day I sat in this very room, a-waitin 
 yer comin back an' I counted the hours almost, 
 afther I got my big fortun, an* says I to myself 
 ' When Mike does come back, poor boy, its repay 
 him this will for all his sufferin.' Just thin, Mike 
 got up and put his hand on the wash tub 
 4 No, yer don't,' says I, layin hold of it 'yer sowld 
 the others, but ye shall drag me away wid these 
 afore I'll part wid 'em ; lave me the manes to get 
 the bit an' the sup for the childers, an' I'll forgive 
 yer, though you've spent my fortun, and sowld all 
 my beautiful furniture. Mike, it's love yer once I 
 did, an' I niver thoucht the day would come when 
 I should curse ye ; had ye been an honest lad now, 
 as you were when I fust knew yer, it's happy we 
 might have been wid my money which you've 
 dhrunk.' 
 
 " ' I dhrunk yer money, Betty ? What the divil 
 do yer mane by yer fortun ? By my sowl it was a 
 mighty small one, any-way ; for I niver knew you 
 had one afore, except a bright silver saxpence, 
 which yer grandfather gave ye on our weddin day.' 
 
 " It's now I began to wondher for he didn't 
 seem dhmnk an' he spoke so much more like the 
 Mike of my heart than he that sowld me up, so I 
 axed him if he didn't ruin me a short time back ? 
 An' he swore by the blessed St. Patrick he'd niver
 
 AN IRISHMAN'S DOUBLE. 73 
 
 set eyes on me afore, since he was on his trial. 
 Then I felt scared, for I thoucht I must have been 
 livin' wid his ghost or the ould gintleman hisself 
 who had taken Mike's shape to roh me of my sowl. 
 Jist as I was a thinkin', Mike jumps up in a mighty 
 big passion, lookin' as white as thim shirts ; says 
 he, ' Och, sure, bad luck to me, I see it all.' An' 
 thin he up an' towld me that some months afore 
 he had his ticket-of-lave another Irishman workin 
 in the same gang, whom they called Pat Sweeney, 
 had got his, that they were as much alike as 
 two paes in a pod, so much so that they were 
 always bein' mistaken one for the other ; Pat was 
 a bit taller, that were all. Well, when Pat got his 
 ticket, Mike had towld him where to find me out, 
 an' all about me, for they were friends, an' Mike 
 thoucht him an honest lad, who like hisself had 
 fallen into bad ways from poverty ; so he axed him 
 to come and see me an' comfort me, an' Pat pro- 
 mised him, ' for the sake o' the ould counthry, he'd 
 do it.' An,' says poor Mike, ' it's comfort ye he 
 has wid a vengeance.' ' Ochone! Mike dear, "said 
 I," what'll I do, what'll I do; I couldn't help it.' 
 
 " ' But did he live intirely wid yer, Betty, like 
 myself?' 
 
 " ' An' sure he did, Mike ; but I thoucht it was 
 you all the time.' 
 
 " ' It's a robbed and murthered man I am alto-
 
 74 AN IRISHMAN'S DOUBLE. 
 
 gether, then,' cried poor Mike. ' Oh, Betty, you've 
 been an' gone an' committed burglary by livin' wid 
 anoder man : Oh, the bla'guard ! let me catch him 
 an' its bring him to justice I will.' 
 
 "An' it's what we'll do to find him out ; maybe 
 yer honour might tell us, for it's mad I've been 
 ever since as any livin' sowl in this breathin' world : 
 an' as for poor Mike, he's a great deal madder.' " 
 
 Making every allowance for the simplicity of the 
 woman's nature, this is certainly an extraordinary 
 instance of the similarity which may exist between 
 two human beings.
 
 75 
 
 THE LIFEWRECK. 
 
 Alas ! our young affections run to waste, 
 Or water but the desert ; whence arise 
 But weeds of dark luxuriance, tares of haste, 
 Rank at the core, though tempting to the eyes, 
 Flowers whose wild odours breathe but agonies, 
 And trees, whose gums are poison ; such the plants 
 Which spring beneath her steps as Passion flies 
 O'er the world's wilderness, and vainly pants 
 For some celestial fruit, forbidden to our wants. 
 
 One of the chief ingredients made use of in the 
 modern farce or comedy is the cool Jeremy Diddler 
 impudence assumed by the chief male character, 
 and this impudence, however amusing for the time 
 being, conveys a strong smack of improbability 
 about it to the minds of the many, they naturally 
 believing such individuals are not to be met with 
 in our every-day life, simply from the fact of their 
 own immediate experience not having encountei-ed 
 them. V j> 
 
 To proVe that such astonishingly impudent men 
 do exist to the perhaps sceptical reader, I relate
 
 76 THE LIFEWRECK. 
 
 the following somewhat unconnected facts respect- 
 ing a young man whom it was once my misfortune 
 to meet with. There is, however, a wide difference 
 existing in the ideal denouements presented on the 
 stage and that of real life. Old gentlemen are not 
 to be met with who reward strange, eccentric, and 
 worthless intruders with the hand of their lovely 
 daughters, and a good round sum besides to keep 
 matters square : such marvellous and imprudent 
 acts of generosity confine themselves to the imagi- 
 native conceptions of the author, and the necessi- 
 ties of the actor's " situations," to use a technical 
 phrase. My hero, therefore, following in the usual 
 path allotted to indiscretion, found his young life 
 wrecked on the shoals of dissipation, extravagance, 
 and folly. 
 
 Some few years ago, I was walking up one of the 
 streets in the town of Halifax, when I was accosted 
 by a pale, light-haired, genteel-looking young man, 
 apparently of not more than two-and-twenty. He 
 was dressed in fashionably cut but exceedingly 
 " seedy" clothes, and his hat bore unmistakeable 
 evidence of a smash at no very distant period. 
 
 "Mr. Reeve, I believe I have the pleasure of 
 addressing?" said this individual, whom we will 
 call Royland ; at the same time lifting his hat 
 with an air par excellence. 
 
 " That is my name, certainly," I replied, look-
 
 THE LIFEWRECK. 77 
 
 ing rather shyly at his costume, " but to my know- 
 ledge I have not the pleasure of your acquaintance." 
 
 " I am sorry to contradict you, but you certainly 
 have !" 
 
 " Indeed ! I do not remember the circumstance." 
 
 " No ! Well, that is surprising, too. I was in- 
 troduced to you by B , a mutual friend, in 
 
 Derby, at a public dinner there ; we had a cigar 
 together." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! I think I recollect your face now." 
 
 " Of course you do. B is a deuced nice fel- 
 low, only a little sharp after money when he lends 
 it ; that's his only fault, my dear sir." 
 
 " And I think that is a very necessary fault, 
 in this fast age ; for people d not generally run 
 after you when they have borrowed money. But 
 you really must excuse me, Mr. Mr. " 
 
 " Royland Royland but don't hurry yourself." 
 
 " I have a very particular engagement," said I, 
 looking at my watch, as most people do when they 
 want to get rid of a disagreeable acquaintance. 
 
 " You are going that way," he replied, pointing 
 to the road I was about turning towards, " I have 
 no particular destination at present; I shall be 
 proud to bear you company." 
 
 " But, my dear sir " I was about to tell him 
 more plainly his society was not agreeable ; be- 
 fore I could speak the words I found his arm 
 linked in mine, as he said,
 
 78 THE LIFEWRECK. 
 
 " Not another word of apology, I beg ; I am 
 your most obedient for the rest of the day." Taken 
 quite by surprise at the utter coolness of his con- 
 duct I suffered myself to be led through the streets 
 by him. On observing his features more closely, 
 I at once recalled the occasion of our first meeting. 
 At the dinner he spoke of, I remembered remark- 
 ing him for his gentlemanly, youthful, and self- 
 possessed exterior, combined with a singularly 
 insinuating and plausible impudence. On point- 
 ing him out to a gentleman, a friend by the name 
 
 of B , he informed me that the young man's 
 
 name was Royland ; he was connected with a 
 highly respectable family near Manchester, and 
 having at the age of seventeen inherited some 
 property had run through a course of wild dissi- 
 pation, and was then living upon the mere cipher 
 that remained. He told me several anecdotes con- 
 nected with him. One of these I transcribe : 
 
 " Having been acquainted with his family some 
 years, I have felt it my duty to receive him, but 
 really his cool impudence surpasses all bounds. 
 You must know, about three months ago, he arrived 
 in Derby in a really miserable plight, having just 
 finished up with some mad-headed ' spree,' to use 
 his own term, and emptied his pockets of every 
 farthing he possessed, or could possess, until a 
 fresh supply arrived from the trustees. His clothes
 
 THE LIFEWKECK. 79 
 
 were half torn off his back, and as dusty as if he 
 had been rolling in the road. In this state he 
 called at my lodging, but I happened to be from 
 home. 
 
 " ' Not at home !' said he to my landlady, ' can 
 you inform where I shall find him ?' 
 
 " ' Well, sir, I am not sure ; but I think he 
 went to meet a gentleman at the Royal Hotel.' 
 
 " ' You think so, madam ; thank you. If you 
 will allow me, I'll walk upstairs and give myself a 
 wash :' and away he started, pushing past the good 
 lady to her infinite surprise. She not knowing 
 what to do, seized on my great coat hanging in the 
 hall, thinking his intention must be robbery. 
 Having secured this she followed him up, and 
 arrived just in time to have my bed-room door 
 closed in her face and locked on the inside. 
 
 " ' Sir, sir !' called out the good woman, knock- 
 ing at the door, ' who are you ?' 
 
 " ' Who am I, madam ? A gentleman a friend 
 
 of Mr. B , whom I am about to pay proper 
 
 respect to by having a wash. I require it, I can 
 tell you, after the accident I have met with on the 
 railway.' 
 
 " ' Dear bless me : an accident ! poor young man !' 
 said the landlady, strongly sympathising with him, 
 ' I hope you're not hurt, sir ?' 
 
 " ' No, no not much slightly bruised ; but ex-
 
 80 THE LIFE WRECK. 
 
 cuse me I have an objection to be disturbed in 
 my ablutions.' 
 
 " ' Certainly, sir I'll leave you ;' and away went 
 my landlady down stairs quite satisfied, the acci- 
 dent falsehood accounting for the visitor's strange 
 appearance, &c. 
 
 " I had gone to the Eoyal, and was sitting with 
 a friend talking over a little business, when Roy- 
 land entered the room, dressed, as I thought, ex- 
 tremely well and looking very gentlemanly, his 
 clothes not being unlike a suit of my own. ' Ah, 
 
 B , how do you do ?' was the greeting ; ' your 
 
 friend here I have not the pleasure of knowing.' 
 
 " ' Mr. Simpson,' said I, introducing him. 
 
 " ' Most happy and proud of your acquaintance, 
 Mr. Simpson ; will you allow me the pleasure of 
 wine or brandy-and-water with you, and a cigar ?' 
 
 " ' No, I thank you,' replied Simpson, to my 
 satisfaction, ' I have some.' 
 
 " ' But I insist I'll hear no excuse,' urged Roy- 
 land, loudly ringing the bell ; ' waiter, bring us 
 
 two brandies and cigars a port as well ; B , 
 
 I know that is your drink.' 
 
 " ' A gentlemanly young fellow,' whispered 
 Simpson to me. He happened to be a niggardly 
 dog, and never paid if he could help it. 
 
 " ' Two brandies, one port, and cigars,' said the 
 waiter, placing the same on the table.
 
 THE LIFEWKECK. 81 
 
 " ' A light,' cried Koyland, selecting a cigar with 
 great care. 
 
 " ' Yes, sir,' said the waiter, giving him one, 
 and holding out the tray for payment. 
 
 " ' Ay, what ? Did you want anything ?' he 
 asked, looking with well-feigned surprise first at 
 the tray, then at the waiter. 
 
 " ' Brandies, cigars, and a port,' repeated that 
 individual. 
 
 " ' Oh, yes, I see, you want the money ; of course, 
 very natural,' said Koyland, as if the idea had just 
 occurred to him at the same time feeling with 
 great energy in his pockets ' I am really afraid I 
 have no change.' 
 
 " ' I can give you change,' cried Simpson. 
 
 " ' I thank you all the same my turn another 
 time. Waiter, go to that gentleman he will pay 
 you,' coolly replied Koyland, pulling his hands out 
 of his pockets, throwing himself back, and puffing 
 away luxuriously at his cigar. 
 
 " ' I said I'd give you change,' hawled Simpson, 
 evidently thinking him deaf. 
 
 " ' Exactly ! happy to meet you, sir ; pray do 
 not keep the waiter nothing less than a hundred 
 pound note about me. Your good health, sir.' 
 
 " Had this occurred to any other individual, I 
 certainly should have felt extremly annoyed ; but 
 having often experienced Simpson's meanness, on
 
 82 THE LIFEWRECK. 
 
 this occasion I rather enjoyed it, and pretended to 
 be deeply immersed in the Times newspaper. 
 
 " ' A great pity that young man is so deaf 
 really makes it very awkward ; I have had to pay 
 for these,' whispered Simpson to me. 
 
 " ' Have you, indeed ! there is some mistake, 
 surely,' I replied, and changed the subject. Shortly 
 after this our friend took his departure, upon which 
 I asked Royland about his present circumstances. 
 The reply, as usual, displayed a continuation in a 
 life of folly, carelessness, and dissipation. I gave 
 him some excellent advice, and was very warm on 
 the subject he, getting a little excited, upset 
 some brandy and water over the clean and hand- 
 somely worked front of the shirt he had on. 
 
 " ' Confound it, that's a pity,' he said, rubbing 
 it. It would have lasted me to-morrow.' 
 
 " ' You are right, it is a pity," I remarked. 'It 
 is very singular, I have a shirt exactly like that.' 
 
 " 'Not at all singular, B , it is your shirt, 
 
 my dear boy ; I've simply borrowed it !' 
 
 " ' The devil you have ! And the suit of clothes ?' 
 
 " 'All yours, I assure you. By the way, the 
 trousers are a little too small for me round the 
 waist. I was obliged to stretch them, and the 
 stitches flew nothing of any consequence. You 
 can easily get them mended.' 
 
 " ' Confound your impudence ! How did you 
 get them ?'
 
 THE LIFEWEECK. 83 
 
 " ' At your lodgings don't be excited ; it is 
 easily explained. I have been on the spree for the 
 last week got into a row in the railway carriage 
 with a man who objected to my putting my legs on 
 the seat because my boots happened to rub 
 against his coat, which I could'nt help ; and 
 with another, who said I should not smoke ; then 
 with the guard, because I couldn't find my ticket 
 the truth is I had no money to pay my journey, so 
 determined to make them carry me without. I 
 was obliged at last to give them a gold pin I had. 
 All this bother did not improve my costume, and 
 it certainly was not very bright before. Knowing 
 you were a particular sort of fellow, I was really 
 quite glad to find you were out ; so thinking you 
 might very probably feel annoyed at my rather 
 seedy costume, I found everything I needed to 
 transform myself into a gentleman, in your 
 drawers and here I am, my dear fellow. I was 
 delighted, I assure you, to see you were pleased 
 with my appearance when I entered ; it was some 
 recompense for the trouble of putting the things 
 on, and studying your good opinion.' 
 
 " I need hardly say how much I was astonished 
 and annoyed at this address. I expostulated with 
 him strongly on the subject ; but that only seemed 
 to raise his surprise, for say what you like he never 
 loses his temper or his impudence. I'll introduce 
 
 E2
 
 84 THE LIFEWRECK. 
 
 you, only keep your eyes open." The introduction 
 then took place. Such was the individual I found 
 myself walking arm-in-arm with on the occasion 
 of our meeting at Halifax. 
 
 " You are acquainted with a Mr. Martin of this 
 town, are you not ?" he inquired. 
 
 " Yes, I certainly know that gentleman." 
 
 " I have come down here for the purpose of 
 assisting him in fact I have made a short en- 
 gagement with him professionally." 
 
 " Indeed, I was not aware" 
 
 " That I understood his profession ? Oh yes, I 
 know a little about it. I have been recommended 
 to him ; but it is very unfortunate. You perceive 
 my clothes are a little the worse for wear eifects 
 of a railway accident." 
 
 " I am afraid you are rather subject to railway 
 accidents," I remarked. 
 
 " Perhaps I am, a little ; but this was a very 
 sad one you perceive it has smashed my hat. 
 You have not half-a-sovereign about you, you could 
 lend me to buy another ?" 
 
 " I have not," I replied, decidedly. 
 
 " That is unfortunate, because it would have 
 been of service. Never mind is Martin given 
 to lend money, do you know ?" 
 
 " I am not aware that is one of his weaknesses." 
 
 " Do you think he will lend me a five-pound 
 note?"
 
 THE LIFEWRECK. 85 
 
 " As you are a stranger, I should be inclined 
 to doubt it." 
 
 " But could not I offer you as security ?" 
 
 " Certainly not ; I am a stranger to you. I 
 make it a rule never to be responsible even for a 
 friend." 
 
 " That is unfortunate again. I'll talk to Mar- 
 tin, and show him the actual necessity for his own 
 credit sake, as I am going to be with him. By the 
 way you have a small foot, so have I : I think your 
 boots would just fit me." 
 
 " I fear they would be too small." 
 
 "Too large too large, you mean. You 
 wouldn't mind lending me a pair until I have seen 
 Martin, and borrowed five pounds of him ?" 
 
 " You shall try a pair on," I replied, glad to 
 purchase his absence, as I hoped, at such a sacri- 
 fice, and really feeling some degree of pity for the 
 fellow when, on turning up his feet, I beheld the 
 soleless condition of his shoes ; besides this, I 
 felt convinced my own would prove too small. 
 
 At length we arrived at my residence. I placed 
 a pair before him. At these he tugged and tugged 
 whilst my back was turned, until he split one cf 
 them up the back, much to my annoyance. 
 
 "It is of no use," he said, looking regret- 
 fully, "it is really a pity, for they would have 
 suited me exactly there is something rather stylish
 
 86 THE LIFEWRECK. 
 
 about the cut. You have not another pair, a little 
 larger, have you ?" 
 
 " No, I have not ; at any rate, not for you to 
 serve like this." 
 
 "You can easily get them mended, my dear 
 fellow will not cost you much ; never mind. I'll 
 go to Martin good morning !" And away he 
 started, to victimize that individual. 
 
 About a week after this occurrence I met 
 Royland again, very handsomely dressed French 
 boots, light kid gloves, &c. evidently the result 
 of poor Martin's five pounds and the tailor's mis- 
 placed confidence. 
 
 " Well, how do you get on ?" I asked, as he 
 stopped in front of me. 
 
 " Tolerably though really, Eeeve, there is an 
 amount of cool impudence about Martin I don't 
 exactly understand." 
 
 "Indeed," said I, "he must be a clever man to 
 teach you anything in that respect." 
 
 " You are mistaken, I assure you ; my want 
 of proper assurance has well nigh ruined me." 
 
 " Has it ? I really should not have believed it 
 had you not told me But what is the matter ?" 
 
 " Why, in the first place I cannot get up be- 
 fore a reasonable time in the morning say twelve 
 o'clock ; in the next, he objects to my taking a cup 
 of chocolate and a cigar at four o'clock, because of
 
 THE LIFEWKECK. 87 
 
 people calling on business, or some nonsense of 
 that sort ; and lastly, he positively deducted, with- 
 out consulting me, eight shillings this morning 
 out of my salary, to go towards the liquidation of 
 his paltry five-pound debt." 
 
 " Dear me, barbaric in the extreme ! but what 
 would you have him do ?' 
 
 " Simply act in the manner of a gentleman, 
 and wait until I offered it him.;' 
 
 " ' Perhaps he thought he might wait long 
 enough for that." 
 
 " Well it is, of course, probable that he might have 
 to do so ; but what of that ? It would depend upon 
 my liabilities, immediate and casual expenses, et- 
 cetera, etcetera.' " 
 
 After a few more words we separated, and I could 
 but turn back to look after him and contrast his 
 mild face and soft address, with the cool and daring 
 effrontery of his nature. 
 
 Some months passed over, and I was staying 
 in Manchester for a short time. One day I had 
 been some little distance into the country, and re- 
 turning rather late in the evening, to my great 
 astonishment found Eoyland comfortably seated in 
 my favourite arm-chair, smoking my meerschaum 
 and reading a book. Being naturally of a civil 
 and obliging nature, I did not turn him out, as I 
 ought to have done, but simply remarking " he
 
 88 THE LIFEWRECK. 
 
 appeared to have made himself quite at home," 
 sat down. In the course of conversation he in- 
 formed me that he and Mr. Martin could not pos- 
 sibly agree a fact I thought very easy of belief. 
 Without being positively rude, I strongly hinted 
 that his absence was more desirable than his 
 presence. This however was entirely lost upon 
 him ; he sat with his legs stretched out, as though 
 established for the night, so at length I thought 
 it high time to retire and rising, said " Well, 
 Mr. Koyland, you appear to be enjoying your- 
 self, but I must beg of you to go ; it is past my 
 time of going to bed." 
 
 " Oh, well, don't mind me," was the reply. 
 
 " But, my dear sir, I am very tired." 
 
 " So am I, so am I walked twenty miles to- 
 day, with a sixpence in my pocket. Look at my 
 boots." 
 
 I did look, and certainly wondered how he could 
 possibly have surmounted a rough stony road with 
 such wretched ones they were indeed "the 
 light of other days," being the French boots he 
 had cut such a swell in at Halifax ; that he had 
 tramped from thence his condition was quite 
 enough to prove. I could not help pitying him. 
 " It is really very distressing that you do not guard 
 against sujch suffering," I remarked ; " you should 
 be more careful when you have the means."
 
 THE LIFEWKECK. 89 
 
 " Careful ! my dear sir, there is no one more 
 so, as far as the general feelings of a gentleman 
 will permit. By-the-bye, what time is it ? " 
 
 " Half-past one in the morning," I said em- 
 phatically. 
 
 " So early," was his reply " dear me, I thought 
 it was getting quite late ! I am glad of that, there 
 is just time to enjoy another pipe." 
 
 " You must excuse me, there is nothing of the 
 kind ; it is very late for me, at all events, and I 
 am going to bed." 
 
 " You are ? Well, what is to become of me?" 
 
 " Of you ? My good fellow, I cannot say." 
 
 " Do you intend I should walk the streets all 
 night ? " 
 
 " I really cannot comprehend what I have to do 
 with it. I am very sorry but you have friends 
 here, and I am not aware you possess any claim 
 upon me." 
 
 " Yes, I have, my dear fellow the claim of hu- 
 manity and politeness. I have friends not very 
 far off, it is true, but my disposition is opposed to 
 theirs. If you turn me out, I must sleep on the 
 door step, or place myself under the protection of 
 the police the first I only tried once, and found 
 it infernally hard and uncomfortable." 
 
 " Well, sir," said I, deeply annoyed at being 
 done in this manner " I certainly cannot find it in
 
 90 THE LIFEWBECK. 
 
 my heart to ' turn you out,' as you call it my land- 
 lady and the servant are gone to bed, but you can 
 sleep in the adjoining room to mine for to-night." 
 
 " Thank you I thought it would be all right 
 just oblige me with your slippers." 
 
 Not having a second pair, he had to go without, 
 and perceiving his disinclination to move from the 
 fireside, I turned out the gas upon which he wag 
 obliged to follow me upstairs, where, bidding him 
 good-night, we separted. 
 
 Morning came. At half-past eight I rose and 
 knocked loudly at his door then, dressing myself, 
 went down stairs to await his rising for breakfast. 
 Half-past nine struck, and no sign of my gentle- 
 man ; going up stairs I walked into the room, and 
 there he lay snoring. I called it was no use so 
 handling him rather roughly compelled him at 
 length to open his eyes. 
 
 " Is it you," said he, yawning ; " don't bother a 
 fellow in the middle of the night. D n that sun, 
 how it is shining enough to put one's eyes out. 
 Shut the shutters, Reeve, or I never shall be 
 able to sleep." 
 
 " You have slept quite enough I am waiting 
 breakfast for you." 
 
 " Oh, don't mind me I'll have mine in bed." 
 
 " Excuse me, my friend but you certainly will 
 have nothing of the sort. I think breakfasting
 
 THE LIFEWEECK. 91 
 
 in bed a most disgusting habit ; so get up, or you 
 will certainly go without any." 
 
 " Upon my soul, it is very hard a fellow cannot 
 do as he likes. Well, I suppose I must, then," 
 and he turned out with the air of a martyr. 
 
 At last he came down stairs, and casting his eyes 
 on the breakfast table, seemed considerably disap- 
 pointed. 
 
 " Don't you have chops for breakfast I always 
 do," was his remark. 
 
 " When you can get them, Boyland, I suppose, 
 and that won't be this morning ; I dare say it is an 
 oversight on my part, but you really must content 
 yourself with what you see on the table." By 
 some extraordinary stretch of endurance, he ma- 
 naged to clear all the toast, eggs, and bread and 
 butter, then finished up with a biscuit. 
 
 " What time do you dine ?" was his query, whilst 
 swallowing the last mouthful. 
 
 " Very uncertain," I replied immediately ; in- 
 deed the chances are, I shall not be at home to 
 dinner at all to-day." 
 
 "Unfortunate; then I won't stay to dinner under 
 those circumstances." 
 
 " No ; I think you had better not. 
 
 Having an appointment, I, much to my gratifi- 
 cation, got rid of this most unwelcome visitor. 
 During that day and the next I heard no more of
 
 92 THE LIFEWRECK. 
 
 him, and was congratulating myself on the escape, 
 when about twelve o'clock on the third evening a 
 knock came to the door, steps were heard advancing 
 towards my room, and in walked Royland, appa- 
 rently a little gone in liquor, his face very pale, 
 his eyes bloodshot, and his dress very disordered. 
 
 " Oh, my dear fellow, here I am come to spend 
 the night with you again let me have a pull at 
 
 "You are certainly a singular individual, Mr. 
 Koyland ; we are comparative strangers, and I 
 cannot accommodate you." 
 
 " Can you not ? that is rather strange !" 
 
 "Not at all; you appear to labour under a 
 strange delusion as to your conduct amongst 
 friends and acquaintances." 
 
 " How so ? I have done nothing, I trust, unbe- 
 coming a gentleman, Is the bed occupied ?" 
 
 " It is." 
 
 " Oh, well, that is unfortunate, now can I not 
 share yours ? I really do not mind." 
 
 " But I do. I have a great objection to any- 
 thing of the kind." 
 
 " Have you ? Well, I cannot tell why you 
 should have ; however of course it is a bad job, 
 we must make the best of it. Can you lend me 
 half-a-sovereign ?" 
 
 " No, I cannot," 
 
 " Well half-a-crown will do."
 
 THE LIFEWRECK. 93 
 
 " I cannot lend you even that." 
 
 " Dear me, you must be very short ! I like to 
 serve a friend, for I know the annoyance of being 
 so placed. I am aware that to the uninitiated it is no 
 very agreeable task ; but to serve a friend I'll call 
 again to-morrow. That is a capital coat of yours 
 on the chair." 
 
 " Yes, it is a very good one," I replied, not 
 seeing his drift. 
 
 "I'll pawn it foryou, then you will not only be able 
 to lend me five shillings, do you perceive, but 
 you yourself will retain a larger sum. You can 
 easily take it out again. Capital idea, that of 
 mine." 
 
 This was a step, certainly, beyond all en- 
 durance, the idea of offering to pawn my coat in 
 order to supply himself with money ; so unable to 
 control my temper longer, I gave him most un- 
 mistakeably to understand that he had better get 
 out the same way he came in, or he might be 
 helped by a quicker method. At this he professed 
 the greatest surprise, and evinced the same in 
 his manner, then coolly filled his pipe from my 
 tobacco pouch, and looking upon me with an eye 
 of pity, he marched out of the house. 
 
 Twelve months had probably now transpired 
 and I had seen nothing of him, until the day of 
 the York races, when the match took place between
 
 94 THE LIFE WRECK. 
 
 Voltigeur and the Flying Dutchman a day ever 
 to be remembered in the annals of the race-course 
 and even to me, a novice in such matters, a time to 
 be recollected with some degree of pleasure, from 
 the thousands that were present the marvellous 
 excitement on the course, and the beauty of the 
 animals, especially the Flying Dutchman. On the 
 morning previous to the race, I remember seeing a 
 pole at a barber's shop painted with Voltigeur's 
 colours white, if I recollect rightly, and red or a 
 kind of crimson spots; by six o'clock two-thirds 
 of the pole was painted a deep black it was put 
 " in mourning," as the barber said, for his losses, 
 having half-ruined himself. This, however, is from 
 the subject. In wandering round amongst the 
 carriages, whom should I see but Royland in an 
 open landau, filled with gaily-dressed ladies of a 
 particular class, and two or three rakish-looking 
 men on the box, the whole party rioting with 
 laughter, and handing champagne about by the 
 tumbler-full, evidently at Royland's expense he 
 having the place of " honour ?" in the body of 
 the vehicle. He saw me, and beckoned, but I 
 hurried off; and on encountering a gentleman a 
 day or two after, with whom I knew him to be ac- 
 quainted, I inquired the meaning of this, and was 
 informed that by the death of a relation Royland 
 had again become the possessor of several hundreds,
 
 THE LIFEWEECK. 95 
 
 which according to the present proceedings was cal- 
 culated to last but a very short time. He further 
 told me that he was killing himself rapidly. Every 
 morning, to create an artificial spirit and power to 
 endure the follies of the day, he had now accustomed 
 himself to drink nearly a tumbler of raw brandy 
 without it he was nerveless spiritless almost 
 dead. That very morning when I saw him in the 
 carriage, previous to his rising from his bed, he 
 had vomited nearly a pint of blood. Here was a 
 picture of a young man between three or four and 
 twenty, having possessed money, friends, health 
 everything calculated to make him happy heed- 
 lessly destroying it all in the pursuit of a shadow 
 which lured him fast and surely to the grave. 
 
 A few months only now passed away, and the 
 same gentleman whom I encountered in Manches- 
 ter gave me the following dreadful details. 
 
 " If you remember the day you spoke to me 
 about Koyland, I stated it as my opinion his con- 
 stitution must sink under his excesses : it has done 
 so. A week ago, the hour might be three in the 
 morning, I was aroused by a loud knocking at the 
 street door. On looking out of the window my 
 ears were saluted by a female voice the owner 
 desiring to speak with me immediately. Utterly 
 at a loss to comprehend what any female could 
 want with me at that hour, I hesitated in comply-
 
 96 THE LIFEWRECK. 
 
 ing, but was at length overcome by her earnest 
 entreaties, so I dressed myself and went down 
 stairs. 
 
 " * Do you know Mr. Royland, sir ?' she in- 
 quired. 
 
 " ' Yes ; what of him ?' 
 
 " ' He is dying, sir ; I'm sure he is. for God's 
 sake come to him.' 
 
 " ' Dying ! Where ?' 
 
 " ' At a bad house, sir the house where I live.' 
 
 " ' Where you live ? You, then, are' 
 
 " ' I am bad, sir,' she replied, interrupting me ; 
 but when I wish to do a kindness don't reproach 
 me I have some feeling of shame left yet.' 
 
 " ' How am I to know you speak the truth ?' 
 
 " ' I have nothing but my word to give you, sir ; 
 but if you would assist the dying gentleman, that 
 will be sufficient. I know few will believe a lost 
 creature like myself ; I swear to you I am speaking 
 the truth now.' 
 
 " ' How did you know he was acquainted with 
 me?' 
 
 " ' I once lived servant with his friends, sir ; 
 it was he who made me bad ; that is all past 
 now. I loved him then, and so it was my own 
 fault.' 
 
 " There was a degree of earnest truth about the 
 girl, despite her wretched appearance, which in-
 
 THE LIFEWRECK. 97 
 
 duced me to believe her; so, out of respect to 
 Royland's relations I determined on seeing the 
 prodigal. A few minutes sufficed for me to throw 
 on a great coat, and to find myself following in the 
 footsteps of my strange conductress through one of 
 the most degraded and dirty streets of Manchester. 
 After turning into an archway which conducted us 
 into a filthy, narrow, and pestilential court, lit by a 
 single lamp, hazy and dull in the thick atmosphere, 
 we stopped before a poor and villanous tenement. 
 I confess it was with some trepidation, and a tighter 
 grasp of the stick I carried, I crossed the threshold. 
 As we trod on the creaking stairs, an apparently 
 drunken woman's voice cried out, * Who the h 11 
 is that ?' 
 
 " ' Don't answer,' said my guide, ' it's only Poll; 
 she's too drunk to make a row. Keep close to me 
 or you may stumble.' 
 
 " Taking her advice we crept up stairs, to what 
 appeared to be the second landing. Here my guide 
 stopped, and listened at a door : ' I don't hear him 
 now,' she whispered ; ' wait a bit, I'll get a light.' 
 Saying this, the girl dived into a crevice, to the 
 right of where I stood, and left me to contemplate 
 for a moment my anything but agreeable position } 
 and conjure up all sorts of murders and robberies 
 in such places, until I blamed myself severely for 
 running the risk ; however, such thoughts were at
 
 THE LIFEWRECK. 
 
 length dissipated by the girl re-appearing with a 
 yellow, dirty-looking candle. I took it from her, 
 quietly opened the door, and walked into the room, 
 or rather den for it was little better. Scarcely a 
 particle of furniture was to be seen, the windows 
 were rudely patched with paper and rags to keep 
 out the wind, whilst obscene and gaudily-coloured 
 pictures hung side by side with representations of 
 our Saviour bearing the cross and other Scriptural 
 subjects. 
 
 " Upon a foul bed I saw young Koyland his face 
 white and attenuated his hair matted and wild 
 his eyes fixed and glassy with one arm supported 
 by his hand, resting on a table at the side of the 
 bed, on which stood a bottle half filled with gin, 
 and a broken glass which he evidently had been 
 reaching ; the other hand clutched the hair of a 
 young once pretty but dissipated-looking woman, 
 who lay at his side, evidently overcome with intoxi- 
 cation, or, to speak more plainly, insensibly drunk. 
 
 " ' Who is that ?' I asked of the girl. 
 
 " ' She keeps the house, and I know she has 
 been robbing him. They came home drunk last 
 night, and that woman was swearing because he 
 said he was too ill to walk and felt sure he 
 was dying. I thought he spoke the truth, he 
 looked so strange and wild-like, his face quite 
 frightened me, for I remembered him so good-
 
 THE LIFEWRECK. 99 
 
 looking; I crept upstairs and lay outside the 
 door until I heard them quarrel about the gin 
 they had in that bottle and then I heard 
 blows; but presently all was quiet. I thought 
 if he was to die like this, with no friend near 
 him, how dreadful! all at once I remembered 
 hearing him speak of you, so I ran to your 
 house.' 
 
 " ' You did quite right ; but I fear it is too late/ 
 " Going to the side of the bed, I caught hold of 
 his hand. What was it that sent a thrill through 
 my veins? I paused to think. I placed my 
 hand upon his heart, and holding the candle, so 
 as to throw its full light on his face, it disturbed 
 the woman, who, with a muttered curse, turned 
 round and slept, whilst a young life wrecked and 
 wasted on the grave of passion slept beside her, 
 to waken to other reckoning than ours,"
 
 100 
 
 A CHRISTMAS DINNER IN SCOTLAND. 
 
 With a good old fashion, when Christmas was come, 
 To call in all his neighbours with bagpipe and drum ; 
 With good cheer enough to furnish every old room, 
 And old liquor able to make a cat speak, and man dumb, 
 Like an old courtier of the Queen's, 
 And the Queen's old courtier. 
 
 VERY OLD ELIZABETHAN BALLAD. 
 (Original of the " Fine Old English Gentleman.)" 
 
 WE have certainly degenerated in the hospitality 
 observable at Christmas-time. It is no longer re- 
 garded in the same enthusiastic manner as of old ; 
 but I do sincerely hope, as it is, even in its present 
 modified form, one of the last and best customs 
 of the past, that the day is far distant when 
 the feeling which still remains shall be altogether 
 obliterated. 
 
 Through a long and severe struggle has it been 
 maintained from the first century, when the Chris- 
 tians determined to observe, by rejoicing, the 
 nativity of Christ. Though persecution in its most 
 severe and barbarous form followed in their path, 
 courageously they placed their feet upon the ladder 
 of faith, and believed themselves securely shrouded
 
 A CHRISTMAS DINNER IN SCOTLAND. 101 
 
 by the wings of an all-powerful angel, choosing 
 for the period of rejoicing the Saturnalia, when 
 half the heathen population were mad with ex- 
 citement. As to the correctness of the time in 
 relation to the event it commemorated, there has 
 been a great deal of dispute. Some of the old 
 Greek authors maintain the 6th of April, others , 
 the 15th, 20th, and 25th of May. In 1722, in the 
 Jesuit College of Eome, it formed the matter of 
 considerable debate. In 1647 the parliament 
 tried to abolish the observance altogether, which 
 led to plenty of broken heads and the loss of a 
 few lives ; but from the time of the Eestoration 
 till the year 1752, the English people enjoyed un- 
 disturbed its privileges, then a squabble arose as to 
 the right day being the 5th of January or the 25th 
 of December. Those in the cause of the latter 
 came oif triumphant, and from that time to the 
 present it has been the still recurring anniversary 
 of warm hearts, loving eyes, joyful greetings, and 
 family gatherings when charity extends a willing 
 hand to the hungry when the quarrels aud ignoble 
 passions of the swiftly-passing year are obscured 
 and obliterated by the grasp of friendship and for- 
 giveness- and when the lowering cloud of care 
 upon the sorrowing man's brow dissolves in the 
 bursting sunshine of surrounding happiness. 
 It was on the morning of this day, some few
 
 102 '"' " A CHRISTMAS DINNER 
 
 years ago, I found myself walking up one of the 
 principal streets of the Scottish capital a stranger, 
 in a strange place, no very enviable position on 
 such an occasion. I was thinking as where is 
 the Englishman would not ? of the last Christ- 
 mas-day ; and then the last Christmas-day brought 
 , to life visions of many others, till in imagination 
 the allegorical Old Gentleman of the story-books 
 started into life, and taking my arm with all the 
 warmth of an old friend, together we resolved to 
 pass the day in talking over " Auld lang syne," 
 fully satisfied that although my years had but little 
 then exceeded the age of boyhood, yet in the ex- 
 perience those years had brought we should find 
 ample matter for reflection ample cause for 
 smiles, and alas, for not a few tears. From my 
 reverie and ideal companionship I was aroused by 
 a smart blow on the shoulder, and turning round, 
 I beheld the familiar face of a London acquaintance. 
 Our greeting was cordial as it was unexpected, for 
 not having seen him for many months I was sur- 
 prised to learn he had removed from one of the great 
 surgical schools of the metropolis to complete his 
 professional education at the Edinburgh college. 
 
 " Well, I am truly delighted to meet with you," 
 said my friend Williams " do you know, I was 
 just wishing for some one to keep me company to- 
 day, for I am a freshman here, and have made
 
 IN SCOTLAND. 103 
 
 but few acquaintances. You are not engaged, I 
 hope ?" 
 
 " Quite the contrary I place my time at your 
 disposal with much pleasure, and if you were in 
 want of a companion, I was in much the same pre- 
 dicament, so we may consider the meeting ex- 
 tremely well-timed," 
 
 " That's delightful ! Then we'll have a gloriously 
 quiet day together. I'll tell you a strong reason I 
 have to rejoice at this chance rencontre : I have 
 got a famous goose and plum-pudding for dinner, 
 and we never enjoy such good things half as much 
 by ourselves. Are they in your style at all ?" 
 
 " My dear fellow, you could not hit my style 
 better." 
 
 " I am glad of it. I have given my landlady 
 who by-the-bye is an obstinate but good-meaning 
 old soul particular directions about the goose; 
 and as for the pudding, I sent up to London for 
 the receipt, got the ingredients myself, mixed them 
 in proper proportions, so that there could be no 
 mistake, and all she has to do is to place them in 
 a cloth and boil them. I flatter myself a first-rate 
 affair it will be by Jove ! it makes my mouth 
 water to think of it." 
 
 " You don't mean to say you took all this trouble 
 for yourself ?" 
 
 " No, not exactly ; as it turns out, I have met
 
 104 A CHRISTMAS DINNER 
 
 with you to join me, and I came on the look-out 
 for some one." 
 
 " Much as I admire the taste of it," I replied, 
 "the pudding would have waited a long time before 
 I should have taken such precautions, I fear." 
 
 " There is nothing like being careful, my boy 
 especially with these Scotch Hottentots, if you have 
 a good article, and do not wish it spoilt ; besides, 
 Christmas-day would not be Christmas-day to me, 
 without it. Were I on my death-bed, one hundred 
 years hence, I should imagine myself a Christmas- 
 day short in my reckoning without such a neces- 
 sary appendage to my annual enjoyments ; but 
 come along, it is getting nearly two o'clock, we 
 must not be behind, for I have timed the boiling 
 of it to & minute." 
 
 Away we started on our very agreeable errand. 
 Although certainly rejoicing at the anticipation of 
 the feast, I had still enough discretion to remember 
 the injunction published in Poor Kobin's Alma- 
 nack in September, 1695 : 
 
 " Geese now in their prime season are, 
 Which, if well roasted, are good fare ; 
 Yet, however, friends take heed 
 How too much on them you feed ; 
 Lest, when your tongues run loose, 
 Your discourse do smell of goose." 
 
 Indeed, I am an epicure in good living. I hate 
 the unwholesome olio of a foreign table-d'hote,
 
 IN SCOTLAND, 105 
 
 or the gout-engendering stuffing of an aldermanic 
 feast. Mr. Disraeli, in his admirable work, " Curi- 
 osites of Literature," tells us of a celebrated cook 
 of the ancients, who immortalised himself by 
 being dexterous enough to serve up a whole pig, 
 roasted on one side and boiled on the other, whilst 
 its inside was filled with a concoction of thrushes 
 and other birds, slices of the matrices of a sow, 
 the yoke of eggs, the bellies of hens with their 
 soft eggs the whole flavoured with a rich juice 
 and minced-meats highly spiced. I fancy I see 
 some "greasy, fat citizen" licking his lips at the 
 contemplation of such an outrageous dish. Should 
 he feel inclined to gratify his gourmandizing pro- 
 pensities by attempting such a chef-d'oeuvre of the 
 culinary art, I must refer him to the work before- 
 named, where he will find the receipt handed down 
 from generation to generation from the illustrious 
 original. As a fool for his pains, I regard Apicius 
 of old, who, residing at Minturna a town in Vam- 
 pania took a voyage to Africa, because he heard 
 shrimps were of a finer quality there than at the 
 place of his sojourn, and rightly was he served 
 when it turned out what is known in slang par- 
 lance as " a sell." 
 
 What a selfish and unpardonable glutton, too, 
 was Philoxemus, who wished for a crane's neck, 
 that he might be longer in swallowing his dainties,
 
 106 A CHRISTMAS DINNER 
 
 and who, when in the bath, habituated himself to 
 swallow scalding water in order to secure the tit- 
 bits at table, whilst the dishes were smoking hot, 
 and others dared not attempt to touch them or their 
 contents. The only cook I ever really had some 
 esteem for was poor Soyer, who was possessed of a 
 warm heart towards his fellow creatures, and did 
 much for the poor, both soldiers and civilians, in 
 teaching them how to make a savoury dinner off 
 the produce of twopence. 
 
 Notwithstanding all this, I certainly do sympa- 
 thise with the man whose eyes will beam joyously 
 at the sight of a gloriously substantial piece of 
 roast beef, reeking in its ruddy strength, filling 
 the air with its savoury incense, so tantalizing to 
 a hungry stomach : just so can I agree with a man 
 who likes roast goose and plum pudding ; and it 
 was with great pleasure I mounted to what the 
 Scotch call " a flat" and what we should term 
 " the chambers" occupied by my friend. 
 
 " Good morning, Mrs. M'Cairn," said Williams 
 addressing the landlady, a tall, brawny Scotch- 
 woman, who happened to be laying the cloth as we 
 entered, " a happy Christmas to you." 
 
 " The same to you, sir, an' many o' them," was 
 her reply. " Ye ken, sir, Lizzie's a braw wench, 
 an' a gude wench, but she hae na been used to wait 
 on gentlefolk, so, as it is Christmas day, I thoucht 
 I'd gie her a wee bit help like."
 
 IN SCOTLAND. 107 
 
 " And very considerate of you ; but how about 
 the pudding ?" 
 
 " Wi' muckle pains I've ta'en with it an' I ken 
 it'll mak' your hair curl richt weel for it's a lang 
 day sin ye tasted ane so gude." 
 
 " Did you hear that?" said Williams, turning to 
 me ; " you see what she thinks of it. Well, that 
 is saying a good deal, Mrs. M'Cairn." 
 
 " I speak my mind an' it's the gentlefolk ye 
 bring to dinner ?" 
 
 " Yes, my friend here is going to dine with me." 
 
 " Then, ye'll want twa plates, an' twa knives 
 an' an' here, Lizzy, wench where are ye gang- 
 ing the noo ? It's after her I mun be looking, or 
 she'll be fishing the plums out o' the puddin' and 
 drowning hersel' in the pot," and away the old 
 woman started after her small maid. 
 
 " What the devil did the old crone mean," said 
 Williams, " by fishing out the plums and drown- 
 ing herself in the pot it can't be the pudding pot 
 she means ?" 
 
 "No," I suggested, "It's only her way of talking ; 
 unless she means the girl would try and untie the 
 pudding cloth first, and in doing so might tumble 
 in." 
 
 " You have hit it that is what she meant. By 
 Jove, it made me start, though ; but, as the clown 
 says, ' here we are,' take your seat." 
 
 F2
 
 108 A CHRISTMAS DINNER 
 
 As he thus spoke in walked Mrs. M'Cairn and 
 her miniature helpmate carrying the doomed bird, 
 plates, condiments, &c. 
 
 " There, sir, an' a fine guse it is," said the good 
 woman, with satisfaction, depositing it on the table. 
 
 " I perfectly agree with you ; it is a beautiful 
 bird, Mrs. M'Cairn. Look sharp with the pota- 
 toes," exclaimed Williams, rubbing his hands with 
 uncommon delight. 
 
 " The potatoes you have got them the noo." 
 
 " The deuce I have ? It must be in my pockets, 
 for hang me if I see them." 
 
 " I ken ye will, though, if ye cut open the guse ; 
 they're all in it's belly." 
 
 " They are all where ?" 
 
 " In the guse's belly." 
 
 " The devil they are !" 
 
 " And canna you speak without bringing the 
 de'il in. It's no richt and proper to cook the 
 potatoes in the guse is muckle the best way. My 
 poor auld mon said so ; an' the Lord save us, he 
 was a judge, for he'd eat a guse to his own cheek 
 without unbuttoning his waistcoat, he was so fond 
 of it. Poor mon, he's dead an' gone noo ! an' it's 
 little guse he gets, I ken, where he's gone to." 
 
 " Confound it, Mrs. M'Cairn !" said Williams, 
 "and is my taste to be measured by your old
 
 IN SCOTLAND. 109 
 
 man's so particular as I was in my directions ? 
 It is most provoking. Where is the cauliflower ?" 
 
 " That is in the guse's belly, too. I boiled it a 
 wee bit first, ye ken, then beat the potatoes and 
 the cauliflower together, then mixed them with a 
 wee bit o' porridge an' the Queen hersel' oucht 
 to rejoice at sic a dish. Come along, Lizzy, wench, 
 for it's bad manners to talk when the gentlefolks 
 are eating" and away the two departed, leaving 
 my friend and myself dumbfoundered at her volu- 
 bility and her cookery. 
 
 " "Well," said he at length, " did you ever hear 
 of such a wooden-headed old stupid ? The goose is 
 spoilt literally spoilt." 
 
 " Never mind," I replied, in a soothing tone, 
 " it is not poison, we must make the best of it ; 
 we will revenge ourselves on the pudding." 
 
 "So we will. There is a bit of breast by St. 
 Patrick, what an awful mess this looks, that 
 woman and her porridge will be the death of me. 
 If I complain of a cold 'Nothing like porridge.' 
 Head-ache ' Porridge for ever ! ' Stomach- 
 ache ' Porridge is the stuff,' Holloway's pills are 
 fools to it ; you see she even thrusts it into my 
 
 We did the best we could. Of course the goose 
 was rendered anything but nice by Mrs. M'Cairn's
 
 110 A CHRISTMAS DINNER 
 
 new mode of cooking. A little went a long way, 
 and a sudden pull at the bell announced our readi- 
 ness for the pudding. Scarcely had the sound 
 subsided, ere a large soup tureen made its appear- 
 ance in at the door, the upper part of the body 
 supporting it scarcely visible, and following in the 
 tureen-bearer's wake came the miniature maid 
 with soup plates. 
 
 " Why, what in the name of conscience have 
 you got there ?" asked Williams, staring in mute 
 horror at the apparition, when a voice from behind 
 the tureen replied "Ye shall see the noo." Upon 
 which the earthen vessel was deposited on the 
 table, and Mrs. M'Cairn, with a face glowing with 
 satisfaction and red with exertion, appeared before 
 our wondering eyes and removed the cover. 
 
 " There !" she exclaimed, with the air of a con- 
 queror, " ken ye the like o' that before ?" 
 
 " Why, what is it ?" we both asked in the same 
 breath, gazing with disgust at a nasty thick float- 
 ing mess, bearing a strong resemblance to hog's 
 wash. 
 
 "What is it?" repeated Mrs. M'Cairn " it's 
 the pudding what should it be ?" 
 
 " The pudding ! Why, confound it, woman, it is 
 soup !" shouted Williams. 
 
 " The Lord forgive ye for swearing ye made 
 it yoursel !"
 
 IN SCOTLAND. Ill 
 
 " But I didn't boil it. Did you put it in a 
 cloth ?" 
 
 " Who ever hee'rd o' sic a thing a cloth ! noo 
 whoever boiled porridge in a cloth ? an' it's the 
 same thing." 
 
 "Mrs. M'Cairn," said Williams, " I have before 
 had occasion to curse your porridge remove this 
 horrid mess," 
 
 " Mess ! Why you mixed the ingredients your- 
 sel ; I only added a wee bit o' oatmeal to mak it 
 sit on your stomach." % 
 
 " Sit on the devil, Mrs. M'Cairn !" 
 
 " I should be very sorry to, an' it's no the act of 
 gentlefolk to propose any sic position for a respect- 
 able female. It's unco' sorry I am to have taken 
 half the trouble with you or your pudding either ; 
 and then to insult a puir lone body it's awful to 
 think aboot. Come, Lizzy, wench, an' leave the 
 ne'er-do-weels to sit on the de'il themselves." 
 
 The indignation of the poor woman, her queer- 
 looking head-gear, her elevated hands, and broad 
 Scotch dialect, which I am but poorly able to 
 illustrate, together with the indignant, wrathful, 
 helpless expression of Williams's face, was too 
 much for my risible faculties, and I burst into an 
 uncontrollable fit of laughter as Mrs. M'Cairn made 
 her exit. My friend, who was naturally a good-
 
 112 A CHRISTMAS DINNER IN SCOTLAND. 
 
 tempered fellow, joined me when fully sensible of 
 the absurdity of our position, and the unpremedi- 
 tated " sell," to repeat a common phrase, we had 
 met with. Falling back on some Stilton cheese and 
 salad, and a tolerable dessert, we endeavoured to 
 forget our disappointment in good-tempered rail- 
 lery, and so bury the shortcomings of our Christmas 
 dinner in Scotland.
 
 118 
 
 THE DEATH PHANTOMS. 
 
 " Another world encompasses us the immaterial. That 
 world is peopled by myriads of spirits. For what constraining 
 cause ; and when ; and if ever the evil which intervenes be- 
 tween us and the realms of spirits is raised, and its denizens 
 become subject to the scan of mortal eye, is a mystery about 
 which many master-minds have reasoned, but all have failed 
 to fathom." BISHOP PATRICK. 
 
 " To these particulars innumerable examples might be added, 
 all attested by grave and credible authors. But in despite of 
 evidence which neither Bacon, Boyle, nor Johnson was able to 
 resist, the Taish, with all its visionary properties, seems to be 
 now universally abandoned to the use of poetry." 
 
 SIB WALTER SCOTT. 
 
 " All argument is opposed to a belief in apparitions. All 
 experjeatfe is in its favour." DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 IN the., southern, or as it is termed by the 
 inhabitants, the " back" part of the Isle of Wight, 
 the scenery presents greater diversity, considering 
 its limited extent, than perhaps any portion of the 
 coast of England, that diversity mainly resting 
 in its bold and undulating outline its wild and 
 frowning rocks and chasms. In one place we find 
 a terrific rent, with dark , shelving rocks ; in 
 another tremendous cliffs, with huge angles four
 
 114 THE DEATH PHANTOMS. 
 
 or five hundred feet high ; and again, a picturesque 
 landslip, which is but the foreground to green 
 and verdant mountain slopes, or yellow corn fields. 
 To account for the widely-spread and enormously 
 massive blocks of stone which are found in the 
 landslips has often puzzled me, and the only con- 
 viction I ever arrived at was this : that the winter 
 blasts, ravages of the sea, and at some very distant 
 period, volcanic eruptions, have during the pro- 
 gress of ages rent and detached large tufts of 
 earth or masses of rock from the heights on to the 
 strand beneath : these, becoming immoveable, have 
 gathered from the undulations of the waves, small 
 shells, fossils and pieces of flint, until hardened 
 by time and the petrifying quality of the water, 
 they have at length presented their present aspect.* 
 
 * To those interested in the early history of this beautiful 
 island, the following facts may not be uninteresting. They 
 were copied by me from a work but little known, published a 
 hundred years ago : 
 
 " The Isle of Wight was a part of the territories anciently 
 inhabited by the Belgae, and was brought under subjection to 
 the Romans during the reign of the Emperor Claudian. By 
 them it was called Vecta, or Yectis. It was afterwards con- 
 quered by Cerdic, King of the West Saxons, who peopled it 
 with Jutes, a tribe that had accompanied the Saxons into 
 England. Cadwallader, a succeeding King of the West Saxons, 
 is said to have made himself master of the same, some time 
 after, and to have massacred most of the inhabitants. 
 
 " Having undergone many other revolutions and invasions,
 
 THE DEATH PHANTOMS. 115 
 
 To one of the deep, romantic passes of this 
 coast, you, gentle reader, must bear me company. 
 Supposing ourselves to have swept away the wide 
 intervening gulf of forty years, there then stood 
 a lonely fisherman's cottage, with rudely-built 
 stone walls, over which the honeysuckle and cle- 
 matis crept, mingling with the ivy which stretched 
 over the mossy thatch of its roof. Before the 
 door, a small and neat-looking garden bespoke the 
 careful hand which cherished the little English 
 flowers now blushing into life with the early breath 
 of spring. Enclosing this small plot of ground 
 stood a railed fence, with a gate opening on the 
 narrow uneven road; a carefully gravelled little 
 path formed the connection between the cottage 
 and the highway, whilst the borders of this path 
 glittered in the sunshine, with the profusion of 
 oyster shells which in the humble taste of the 
 owner formed its choice adornment. All this, 
 though not bespeaking wealth, seemed to whisper 
 of something more to be envied than that all- 
 potent charm of life. It told of happiness, con- 
 tentment, love ; for none but a loving and peaceful 
 
 it at length, together with the islands of Jersey and Guernsey, 
 was erected into a kingdom by King Henry VI., and bestowed 
 on Henry de Beaucharup, Duke of Warwick, whom he crowned 
 with his own hands ; but the Duke dying without issue, these 
 isl ands lost their royalty, and again reverted to the crown.' 1
 
 116 THE DEATH PHANTOMS. 
 
 heart could thus have guided the willing and 
 tasteful hand. 
 
 One evening in the month of May, after a day more 
 than usually close and sultry, two girls advanced 
 from the cottage and turned their steps towards 
 the beach. They were cousins. The eldest, Jane, 
 was a fine, healthy, well-formed lass, of about 19, 
 with dark hair, bright, playful eyes, and a rosy, 
 enticing mouth. The youngest seemed of more 
 delicate figure, with fair long ringlets, blue loving 
 eyes, and a pale, pure complexion. 
 
 " And must you, really, go home next week ?" 
 asked Mary of her cousin, looking at her with 
 affection. 
 
 " I must, indeed, dear Mary," replied the eldest, 
 " mother and father will be angry as it is at my 
 having stayed so long away." 
 
 "Well, but father will tell them we cannot 
 spare you yet." 
 
 " That would be useless for you know poor 
 mother is not very well, and my father can't nurse 
 the children, and make the bread, wash the 
 clothes, and do I don't know how many things 
 besides." 
 
 " I shall be so lonely when you are gone, Jane, 
 we have had such a happy time of it these last two 
 weeks." 
 
 " No, Mary dear, you won't be lonely, for you
 
 THE DEATH PHANTOMS. 117 
 
 are so used to be by yourself and see what a com- 
 panion you have in your garden ; besides, before 
 long, I'll get that wicked brother of yours to bring 
 you over and see us all, and I know you will like 
 that." 
 
 " Yes, I should, indeed ; so will he for although 
 you call him wicked you know very well how much 
 you love him, and I am very sure he loves you, 
 for he thinks of nobody else: it is 'Jane's this,' 
 and * Jane's the other,' till I declare I am getting 
 quite jealous." 
 
 " Hush, Mary, that is too bad ; he might be 
 listening behind some of the rocks or bushes, and 
 then how stupid I should look though, to speak 
 the truth, do you wonder at my liking him ? You 
 know what a good kind brother and son he has 
 always been." 
 
 "To be sure, I do ; it is that which makes me 
 jealous, to think of losing him. Why, father often 
 says we should have starved during that long ill- 
 ness of his if it had not been for Bob. He worked 
 night and day then, and has thought of no one 
 else but us since my poor mother's death until you 
 seemed to run in his head ; but, never mind, my 
 dear father will be left me, and no one except 
 death can take him away." 
 
 " No, but you will be taking yourself away one 
 of these days, Mary."
 
 118 THE DEATH PHANTOMS. 
 
 " Taking myself away ! What do you mean ? 
 
 " What should I mean, but marrying." 
 
 "No, Jane no, never ! Upon my mother's death- 
 bed I promised to be to my dear rough old father all 
 that a child should be, when he has no one else to 
 comfort or understand him ; and whilst he lives I 
 want no stranger to love. I know my own heart, 
 but I cannot read another's : those who might love 
 me would never love my father." 
 
 " We shall see, Miss Dutiful we shall see." 
 By this time they had arrived on the beach, where 
 two men were preparing their nets and casting 
 them into their boat, which lay high and dry upon 
 the strand. 
 
 " Well, Jane, lass !" said a tall muscular man, 
 with browned and deeply-wrinkled visage and iron- 
 gray hair, which floated in rude locks beneath his 
 broad sou'wester, " have thee come to give us a 
 haul ?" 
 
 " Yes, uncle, to be sure we have ; and Mary 
 here will lend a hand, too." 
 
 " Mary!" said the old man, as his eyes beamed 
 with affection when they looked upon his darling, 
 " Mary, indeed ! Why, she ain't got the strength 
 of a spider. Thee art the lass ; leastways Bob here 
 says there be none like thee." 
 
 " Now, then, father, what a jolly blab you are," 
 cried a tall, healthy, fine-looking young fellow at
 
 THE DEATH PHANTOMS. 119 
 
 the old man's side bearing too strong a resem- 
 blance for their relationship to be mistaken 
 "Don't believe him, Jane." As the hardy young 
 fisherman said this, the warm blood which mounted 
 into his open, manly face convinced the observant 
 and laughing girls the old man had spoken the 
 truth. 
 
 " Look, father !" said Mary, clapping her hands, 
 " Robert is blushing ; well, I declare, who would 
 have thought his face could ever be a deeper red 
 than it always is." 
 
 " Only wait 'till I get the chance," said Robert, 
 hiding his confusion by busying himself with the 
 nets, " I'll pay thee out for this, lass, I warrant 
 me." 
 
 " Now, my lad, let's heave her adrift." 
 
 " Ay, ay, father," answered Robert, glad of 
 escaping from the other subject, and at the same 
 time getting a peculiar contrivance, which fisher- 
 men have for floating their boats." 
 
 " Here, we'll both help : come along, Mary, 
 you push on that side, and I'll push on this," 
 said Jane, planting herself beside the young 
 fisherman. 
 
 " Get away with thee thee girl, thou be'est 
 always in the way when thee'rt not wanted." What 
 sad hypocrites we sometimes are when our affec- 
 tions are concerned ! The old man was so when
 
 120 THE DEATH PHANTOMS. 
 
 he said this, judging by the tender smile which 
 lighted up his rough face. 
 
 "Don't say that, father; you know you would 
 break your dear old heart without me," said Mary. 
 
 " Now, lad, a long pull and a strong pull heave 
 with a will." 
 
 " And altogether," cried Jane, taking up the old 
 man's tone, as she pushed at the bulky craft, and 
 made the cliffs echo with her noisy mirth. 
 
 " Once more, dad," said Robert. As he said 
 this he took advantage of the close proximity of 
 Jane's face to imprint on it a hearty kiss. 
 
 " Avast, there !" cried the old man ; "so that be 
 the fish thee'rt catching, Bob do you call that 
 lending a hand ?" 
 
 " No," said the girl, "it is lending me a kiss to 
 be repaid with a box on the ears" ; and away the 
 two started, chasing each other like children, heed- 
 less of the would-be cross old father, who when he 
 found out the impossibility of his working himself 
 into a passion, leant against the boat, and fairly 
 roared with laughter at the gambols of the two 
 girls and his son. At length Robert returned : the 
 girls were following, but the old man turned them 
 back, knowing too well the boat would never float 
 with such assistants. Left to themselves they 
 soon launched her, and with a few strokes of the 
 oar she careered over the long-swelling waves just
 
 THE DEATH PHANTOMS. 121 
 
 as the setting sun disappeared down the western 
 hemisphere. The boat passed out of sight, and 
 the two girls slowly wended their way to the 
 cottage. With approaching darkness came that 
 strange, dull, almost unearthly stillness so beauti- 
 fully described by Thomson : 
 
 " A boding silence reigns 
 
 Dread through the dull expanse ; save the dull sound 
 That from the mountain, previous to the storm, 
 Bolls o'er the muttering earth, disturbs the flood, 
 And shakes the forest leaf without a breath. 
 Prone to the lowest vale, serial tribes 
 Descend, the tempest-loving raven scarce 
 Dares wing the dubious dusk. In rueful gaze 
 The cattle stand, and on the scowling heavens 
 Cast a deploring eye, by man forsook, 
 "Who to the crowded cottage hies him fast, 
 Or seeks the shelter of the downward cave." 
 
 The two cousins sat at the open casement and 
 quietly chatted as they watched the falling shadows. 
 
 ' Man-, you are right, it is very lonely in a 
 cottage like this, amongst the rocks, so far away 
 from any other ; I wonder how you can bear it, 
 when your father and brother are sometimes away 
 so many hours !" 
 
 " Do you know, Jane, at times I think I have 
 learnt to like it. I sit at this window, or in my 
 little garden outside, and work ; and when I am 
 tired of work, I sit and think." 
 
 " Yes ; but what is the use of thinking, if you 
 have not any one to tell your thoughts to ? Why I
 
 122 THE DEATH PHANTOMS. 
 
 should almost lose the use of my tongue. But 
 pray, what do you think about ?" 
 
 "I scarcely know; sometimes of my mother, 
 sometimes of my father or brother, wondering if 
 they will ever be parted from me. Then I think 
 of how many fish they will catch, or a thousand 
 other things." 
 
 "Jane!' said Mary, suddenly changing her 
 tone, " I feel so strange to-night so so well, 
 I don't know how, exactly." 
 
 " That is all through some idle fancy you have 
 got, I'll be bound !" 
 
 " Perhaps it is ; but I am certain something 
 dreadful is going to happen." 
 
 "What nonsense, my dear; just because the 
 sky looks dark, and the air is so still. Tell me, 
 Mary, do you never really think of marriage ?" 
 
 "No; very seldom at least. I dare say it is 
 very well in its way." 
 
 "Only think of the pleasure, now, of being one's 
 own mistress !" 
 
 " Yes ; but that luxury is sometimes purchased 
 by many hardships. I feel almost suffocated with 
 the heat ! " And throwing the lattice still wider 
 open, she looked towards the sea. " Jane, look ! 
 the clouds are so dark, and do you hear the waves 
 rolling upon the beach, and dashing against the 
 rocks ? How quickly the sea has risen !"
 
 THE DEATH PHANTOMS. 123 
 
 " I thought we were going to have a storm, the 
 air has been so close all day." 
 
 "God preserve my father and brother," mur- 
 mured Mary, heedless of her cousin's remark. " I 
 never felt so sadly as I do to-night." 
 
 " Come, you must not be timid, you are a fisher- 
 man's daughter ; although we feel dull, it is only in 
 the air." 
 
 " No, no, it is more than that." As Mary spoke 
 thus she withdrew herself from the casement, and 
 sank into a chair. Her face had turned deadly 
 white, whilst tears, like drops of dew, slowly fell 
 down her cheeks. 
 
 " Why, Mary, dear, you look so frightened ! let 
 me close the shutters." 
 
 " No, not yet, not yet." At that moment a 
 vivid flash of lightning shot like a fiery arrow 
 through the sky, and the thunder broke as a 
 fierce cannonade upon the unnatural stillness of 
 the air. 
 
 " Close the shutters, and shut out the storm," 
 cried Mary, hiding her face in her hands. 
 
 " No, no, you selfish little thing ; you said no, 
 and now I say no ; it is not often one gets the 
 chance of seeing a storm like this, so close to the 
 sea. Come, let me put my arm round your 
 waist, and we'll watch it together. Hark at the 
 G
 
 124 THE DEATH PHANTOMS. 
 
 rain ! it is falling in torrents : poor uncle and 
 Eobert, they will be drenched," 
 
 " If that is the only ill that befalls them I shall 
 not care. Oh, how dreadful !" This exclamation 
 was occasioned by another intensely vivid flash of 
 lightning which lit up the sea, the heavens, and 
 surrounding rocks in one brilliant glare, whilst a 
 strong sulphuric almost choking vapour filled the 
 atmosphere. 
 
 " Oh, beautiful ! how beautiful !" cried Jane, 
 clapping her hands together, her dark eyes, in 
 their excitement, gleaming like stars, as she viewed 
 the marvellous grandeur of the tempest ; but she 
 was recalled to herself by hearing her cousin's 
 voice exclaiming 
 
 " Oh, come away ! Oh, pray, come away ! I 
 cannot bear it." 
 
 Unable to penetrate that strange presaging cloud 
 which, in the hour of coming evil, will so often, 
 like a dark shadow, step within our path and lay 
 its icy hand upon the quick pulsation of our hearts, 
 Jane looked upon the poor timid girl, who sat 
 crouching in a distant corner of the cottage, with 
 an eye of wondering pity, and then with soothing 
 words approached and knelt down at her side. 
 
 "Don't leave me, Jane; let us stay here until 
 the storm is over : it is time to go to bed, but I 
 would not go there for the world now. I think I
 
 THE DEATH PHANTOMS. 125 
 
 should have died to-night if you had not been 
 \\ith me." 
 
 " Why, you silly one, you have not half the 
 courage I have. What time is it, I wonder? 
 There is another flash how vivid ! I'll shut the 
 window, dear !" 
 
 " No, no ! never mind : I can't let you leave me 
 now," said Mary, drawing herself still closer to 
 Jane, and laying her head upon her breast, whilst 
 her long bright locks flowing loosely down occa- 
 sionally became radiant in the electric flash. The 
 only sounds which broke upon the loneliness were 
 the raging of the storm without and the gentle 
 soothing of the brave girl, who sat immoveable 
 with her eyes fixed upon the open casement ; so 
 they watched the black and starless firmament, 
 whilst Jane's hands unconsciously played with the 
 golden locks of her cousin. Thus they remained 
 until the hour of midnight, when the wind having 
 risen, the shutters, which had broken from their 
 fastenings, lapped to and fro upon the rusty hinges 
 threatening the demolition of the glass at every 
 stroke. 
 
 " Mary, I must go out and close the shutters 
 now, or the windows will be broken don't be 
 afraid, I shall not be a minute," said Jane, encou- 
 ragingly, pressing the other's hand, and speaking 
 in whispers, as if afraid of rousing the spirit of the
 
 126 THE DEATH PHANTOMS. 
 
 storm : even her strong heart had gradually yielded 
 to the utter loneliness of her situation. The 
 other poor girl did not answer ; but mechanically 
 releasing her from her grasp, sat motionless as 
 Jane went to the door, and opening it looked out. 
 
 The rain had ceased, and the wind came with 
 fitful moaning gusts up the chine, hearing on its 
 saline breath the noisy throbbings of the broad 
 channel waters. Just peering above the vapour of 
 a wild, black mass of clouds, the moon was mis- 
 tily shining not a star was visible and as the 
 young girl gazed out upon the darkness, a thrill of 
 terror for a single moment ran through her veins. 
 But hers was not the spirit to be easily daunted. 
 Recovering herself, with a firm step she passed out 
 into the little garden, and as she closed the shut- 
 ters she could just perceive the white form of her 
 cousin, who had slightly altered her position, so 
 that her face was turned towards a small window in 
 the back part of the cottage, which, nearly abutting 
 upon the rocks that rose perpendicularly above, 
 left but little room for the reflexion of the storm. 
 Jane had closed the shutters, and was turning to 
 approach the door, when immediately outside the 
 little gate she beheld a strange and unearthly phan- 
 tom. Its form resembled that of a man, though 
 much taller. It was white transparent cloud- 
 like ; the left arm was extended towards the sea,
 
 THE DEATH PHANTOMS. 127 
 
 and the features, if such they could be called, 
 seemed those of her cousin Kobert in death. "With 
 the immediate evil in view came that natural strength 
 of mind which God has implanted in the hearts of 
 so many of the softer sex, to make our lordly natures 
 blush. With firm, unfaltering steps Jane ad- 
 vanced towards the shadow. It did not recede. At 
 that moment, when she was within a few feet of it, 
 a shriek loud and shrill came from the cottage, 
 and made the rocky caverns and recesses echo 
 again and again. With the shriek the phantom 
 vanished ; and Jane rushed back to her cousin, 
 whom she found outstretched, and apparently life- 
 less upon the floor. 
 
 Her first thought was to get a light. After 
 searching for some time, she discovered a few 
 matches ; but in her eagerness they would not 
 ignite. She came to the last, it sputtered, 
 threw out a blue phosphoric gleam, and went out. 
 Can words paint her situation ? Her cousin struck 
 down by some unknown terror her own heart, in 
 its reaction, almost palsied by the strange shadow 
 but just seen, and the long hours of solitude 
 and darkness. For a time she sat and bathed 
 with water the forehead of her cousin, who, at 
 length reviving, and finding in whose arms she 
 lay, clung to her with all the fear and dependence 
 of a child when on its mother's bosom.
 
 128 THE DEATH PHANTOMS. 
 
 " Come, come, my dear," said Jane, " what lias 
 made you so frightened ?" 
 
 " Don't leave me again !" murmured the poor 
 girl. " The shadow at the window so very 
 dreadful !" 
 
 " What shadow ?" asked her cousin, stifling her 
 agitation. 
 
 " My father ! my poor father ! I saw him 
 there at that window. He is dead heaven help 
 me ! I know he is, for his spirit pointed to the sea," 
 and at the same time she stretched her hand 
 towards the little window abutting upon the rocks 
 at the back of the room: 
 
 "You have been dreaming, Mary!" faltered 
 out Jane. 
 
 " No, no, it was not a dream ; for I saw it so 
 distinctly through the darkness, and I thought I 
 heard a cry, like that of drowning men. My poor 
 father and brother ! Oh bring them back to me 
 again ! oh bring them back !" 
 
 Jane, with a heart foreboding a great sorrow, 
 tried to comfort and calm the fears of her cousin, 
 and at length proposed that they should go up- 
 stairs to bed. 
 
 " No, no," responded Mary, " it would be use- 
 less; I cannot sleep." 
 
 "But we can pray," replied Jane. " Come* 
 Mary, there is no sorrow so great, we may not
 
 THE DEATH PHANTOMS. 129 
 
 seek comfort and find it with the Almighty 
 let us go upstairs together, and He is sure to listen 
 to our prayers if we place our trust in Him." 
 
 Clinging to each other, the two girls went 
 upstairs into their small bedroom, and falling on 
 their knees, long and earnestly they prayed for the 
 preservation of those dear ones they had left but a 
 few hours previously, rich in manhood, health and 
 happiness. Without undressing, they at length 
 sought their bed, and locked in each other's em- 
 brace waited for the morning's dawn. At length 
 it broke, cloudless and beautiful: the very air 
 teemed with freshness, the singing of the birds, 
 and the odour of wild flowers ; not one vestige 
 remained of all the havoc and terror of the night, 
 but a few torn branches, the damp earth, and 
 swollen water-courses. 
 
 Mary, exhausted, had sunk into a feverish 
 slumber, whilst Jane, pale and anxious, stood by 
 her side watching and listening for the sound of 
 approaching footsteps up from the beach. They 
 came at length, and with eager joy and thankful- 
 ness she ran down stairs and opened the cottage 
 door. At the little gate she beheld, not the well- 
 known faces of her betrothed and his father, but 
 that of an old fisherman, whose dim eyes were 
 suffused with tears, and whose kind, rough heart 
 caused his words to falter and his tongue to refuse
 
 130 THE DEATH PHANTOMS. 
 
 its office as he told the sad tale. The boat of the 
 fisherman had been dashed to pieces on the rocks, 
 and both father and son had perished. The time, 
 midnight the hour of the Phantoms ! ! 
 
 NOTE. I have quoted several opinions at the commencement 
 of this sketch which are entitled to great respect, as coming 
 from men so celebrated, and proving as they do the great doubt 
 that exists with respect to a supernatural spirit world. Like 
 many others, I endeavour to disbelieve what to us mortals 
 is so utterly void of comprehension : and yet, as in the above 
 tale, we meet with startling occurrences, sworn to by eye- 
 witnesses whom we have no reason or right to doubt. 
 
 It was very many years after the events here recorded, circum- 
 stances brought me in contact with the Jane of my sketch, and 
 to her I am indebted for a graphic and minute description of 
 the particulars. She was, at the time I met with her, a re- 
 spectable and respected widow lady, with two daughters. On 
 iny expressing some degree of doubt as to the reality of the 
 phantoms, except in her own and her cousin's imaginations, 
 labouring as they were under great fear and excitement, her 
 reply was somewhat as follows : " Sir, it is many years 
 ago : I was then a girl, I am now an old woman ; yet even 
 now, at times, I recall that shadow as vividJy as it then stood 
 before me. I have no reason or motive for telling you an un- 
 truth ; and besides, if I had been deceived, how was it my 
 cousin was struck down with terror at the same time by an 
 exactly similar shadow ? She, poor girl, never recovered the 
 fright and the sorrow which it so truly foreboded, but gra- 
 dually withered, as it were, into her grave. I am not super- 
 stitious, and know how difficult such things are to believe, but 
 to the day of my death I cannot forego the evidence of my own 
 eyes." This certainly was a strong argument let the reader 
 contend with it to his satisfaction.
 
 131 
 
 WIGGENS IN SEARCH OF LODGINGS : 
 
 A NEW CHRISTMAS STORY, 
 
 BEING A "TRUE ACCOUNT'' OF THE EXPERIENCES OF MR. AND 
 MRS. WIGGENS DURING THE SHORT SPACE OF ONE FORTNIGHT 
 WHILST LODGING -HUNTING IN MANCHESTER. 
 
 " Who is't can say, I am nt the woi'st? 
 I am worse than e'er I was." 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 IN discarding the newly-adopted method of 
 romance writers when addressing the imagination 
 of their readers for the first time, as thus : " On 
 one fine morning in the month of June, a solitary 
 traveller might he seen wending his way," &c. &c., 
 we adopt the good old hackneyed phraseology of 
 " once upon a time ;" so to commence : 
 
 Once upon a time, in the township of Hulme, 
 one of the suburbs of the great manufacturing em- 
 porium of Manchester, there resided two lovely young 
 virgins, rejoicing in the very apropos cognomen of 
 " Lily," ; they were born of respectable parents, 
 their mother being the daughter of an innkeeper 
 in a small country town, the fact of which proves 
 a2
 
 132 WIGGENS IN SEARCH OF LODGINGS. 
 
 the possibility or the impossibility of that lady's 
 observation, " she had all her life been used to the 
 best society." Nor, perhaps, was it less true, " I 
 was born to ride in my father's carriage," he 
 having been possessed of an antediluvian four- 
 wheel, constructed shortly after the year one, in 
 which the ex-carriage, ex-cab, ex-cart, and now 
 job-horse, occasionally did duty when not other- 
 wise employed, and his wind permitted. On 
 arriving at a marriageable age, the mother of the 
 Lilies united herself to a gentleman of equal po- 
 sition in life, and in the course of time and nature 
 gave to the arms of the doting father the two 
 virgins beforenamed : he dying, left his widow his 
 property, consisting of his great-grandfather's six 
 teaspoons, one mustard, two dessert, and the top 
 of a pepper-box, comprising the family plate. 
 
 The lady, unwilling to "waste her sweetness on 
 the desert air," was united a second time, to a 
 gentlemanly follower of Crispin, in other words, "a 
 cobbler," who had the weaknesses natural to that in- 
 tellectual and obliging class, viz. a sportive love 
 of gambling, drinking, and never working on the 
 Monday, by which means he greatly reduced the 
 estate possessed by his wife in right of her father, 
 producing the handsome annual income of about 
 forty pounds, being the entire rental of no less than 
 fourteen handsome dwellings. The daughters
 
 .WIGGENS IN SEARCH OF LODGINGS. 133 
 
 deeming themselves disgraced by the alliance, at 
 once retired, taking with them the family plate ; 
 and having acquired by their own industry suffi- 
 cient means to make a start in life, took up their 
 residence in a mansion unembellished by the Italian, 
 Roman, Elizabethian, or early English style of 
 architecture, but suiting more their virgin tastes 
 and the trite apothegm of ''beauty unadorned is 
 then adorned the most." It was furnished with equal 
 simplicity, and quiet unobtrusive elegance ; and 
 whilst passing away their time in some ladylike 
 yet profitable employment, they sweetly caroll'd 
 the live-long day, (except when they quarrelled, 
 which was very often), and the passer-on would 
 pause at the sound of their voices, doubtful whether 
 he listened to the nightingale or the more plaintive 
 cry of the owl. Sometimes they would vary the 
 monotony by the youngest discoursing most elo- 
 quent music on a concertina with a cold, that 
 she happened to be in the rudiments of instruction 
 with ; or by the eldest executing "Rule Britannia" 
 with variations, on a comb. 
 
 Near their abode lived a gentleman, by the name 
 of Wiggens, a quiet man, attached to the order of 
 Melpomone, and his charming, amiable, and accom- 
 plished young wife. I dare not attempt to describe 
 her, but at once refer you to the beauties of James's 
 novels, in his best style, where pages are employed
 
 134 WIGGENS IN SEARCH OF LODGINGS. 
 
 to pourtray such pictures in words, where roses, 
 lilies, pearls, diamonds, alabaster all hide their 
 diminished heads, and are disconcerted by the 
 lady's cheeks, teeth, eyes, nose, mouth, &c. ; and 
 as such perfections of loveliness are so frequently to 
 be met with in this busy life amongst our sisters of 
 clay, we must of conscience believe the said portraits 
 to be natural. Suffice it to say, that Mrs. Wiggens 
 was supposed to surpass them all in her hair espe- 
 cially, which was only equalled by a heroine of do- 
 mestic romance lately seriously described in one of 
 our weekly journals of murder, love, and suicide, 
 which ran as follows : "Her hair flowed in graceful 
 curls to the ground, and then TURNED UP AGAIN ! it 
 was black as the raven's wing, &c." But enough of 
 this. Wiggens, having determined to change his 
 residence, and observing a card inviting inspection 
 in the window of the Lilies, therein entered, and 
 struck by the form, features, and intellectual bear- 
 ing of the fullest blown Lily whose incessant grin 
 possessed an indescribable charm, awakening the 
 most lively and exciting astonishment, that 
 from the great extent of the cavity a division had 
 not long since taken place, he at once came to 
 terms, and thus shared their roof, and with his 
 wife formed an interesting addition to this amiable 
 family. 
 
 Some few months had passed over, when Wig-
 
 
 WIGGENS IN SEAKCH OF LODGINGS. 135 
 
 gens thoughtless man ! introduced a most un- 
 welcome visitor in the shape of a dog. Poor 
 fellow, he had long wanted a dog, and on being 
 offered one by a friend at once accepted it. Little 
 thought he of the storm about to burst over his 
 domestic felicity : he saw not the frowns of his lovely 
 wife, he heard not her happy, joyous, and ever-con- 
 tented voice grow deep and threatening he saw 
 only his dog, he heard only its merry bark, he 
 watched only its wagging tail, and he brought it 
 home. Then the peace of his hearth was shattered 
 at a blow an earthquake shook the visionary 
 fabric on which he had built long and delightful 
 walks, through the green meadows, with his canine 
 companion. The Lily (I mean the full-blown one) 
 became indignant at the animal's dirty feet even 
 the door mat was denied him for repose. The 
 Lily fastened up her window curtains, she threw 
 off the nature of "the lamb," and assumed "the 
 lion," administering kicks to the poor dog every 
 opportunity, until Wiggens' ire rose with the occa- 
 sion he grew determined. The female Wiggens, 
 previously incensed against the damsels for adopt- 
 ing a method highly to be recommended to all dis- 
 honest landladies, who have a desire to put a 
 damper on your fire viz., to well water your coals 
 before putting them on that is to say, if they are 
 included in the rent and this good lady ob-
 
 136 WIGGENS IN SEARCH OF LODGINGS. 
 
 serving, from the majestic deportment of her loved 
 lord, " he was fixed as fate," at once gave notice. 
 Despite the elements being unpropitious despite 
 of snow, rain, and cold Wiggens and his dog 
 departed on the difficult task of discovering a new 
 abode, and thus laid the foundation for the forth- 
 coming adventures and this new Christmas story, 
 it being close upon that period. Apartments at 
 length he obtained, and when the shades of even- 
 ing had fallen on the busy streets, and the gas- 
 lamps gleamed with a bilious lustre through the 
 foggy and smoky atmosphere, Wiggens removed 
 his traps, and with his traps his wife and dog. As 
 the clock of a neighbouring church announced to 
 all who were in the way to hear it the hour of 
 eleven, they were once more seated by the domestic 
 hearth, looking round upon their handsomely-fur- 
 nished abode with complacent eyes, and snugly 
 ensconcing themselves in rosewood-framed easy 
 chairs, whilst the dog squatted on his haunches 
 between them, winked at the fire, and ever and anon 
 wagged his tail, and looking up into their faces, 
 seemed to remark with all the satisfaction of the 
 clown in the pantomime, "Here we are!" To com- 
 plete their felicity, the spirit of beer whispered in 
 the ear of Wiggens, a little would be enjoyable ; the 
 beverage is therefore ordered and procured 
 though not without trepidation was the command
 
 WIGGENS IN SEARCH OF LODGINGS. 137 
 
 given, as a tall, fine-looking woman, in a black silk 
 dress, was likely to have a soul above the fetching 
 and carrying of malt. In this instance it was not 
 so the beer was brought ; but, alas ! did the 
 Wiggenses dream ? Was it a jug ? or the shadow 
 of a very nasty, big, yellow-looking, vulgar jug that 
 appeared ? Could people possessed of such furni- 
 ture serve their genteel lodgers with such offensive- 
 looking earthenware ? The dream was at once 
 dispelled by the landlady knocking at the door 
 "she wanted the jug" it was the only one they 
 possessed, and the spirit of her husband, like that 
 of Wiggens, yearned for beer. With a light heart, 
 jug in hand, the landlord departed, when, not being 
 firm upon his pins, and the door steps being frozen 
 over, a crash was heard he has fallen, smashed 
 the solitary jug, and unable to get another, retires 
 chopfallen and beerless to bed, whilst visions of 
 future malt fade before the soul of Wiggens, as the 
 crash of the earthenware gave the last notes of its 
 departure. Some people have accommodating dis- 
 positions ; such had the Wiggenses on this occa- 
 sion. Retiring to bed, and finding it minus sheets, 
 after having first held a philosophical discussion on 
 the wholesomeness of blankets they nestled them- 
 selves in the same, and sank into the arms of 
 Morpheus. 
 
 The morning having long since dawned, it being
 
 138 WIGGENS IN SEARCH OF LODGINGS. 
 
 in fact, past nine o'clock, the male Wiggens awoke 
 from out a feverish sleep, when lo ! upon the 
 air a wailing cry arose which thrilled through 
 every nerve. 'Twas not a human creature no; 
 'twas a dog. Wiggens knew the voice 'twas his 
 dog ! His elbow immediately came in contact with 
 female Wiggens's ribs, who being desired to " get 
 up," did so, in the fond and foolish hope of wash- 
 ing and dressing ; but, alas ! for human wishes, 
 and 
 
 " Hope ! fortune's cheating lottery ! 
 Where for one prize a hundred blanks there be !" 
 
 The tooth-glass had lost its bottom, the jug was 
 empty I mean of water, not dirt, the latter ar- 
 ticle it favoured and the towel-horse stood 
 skeleton-like in a corner, unadorned with linen, 
 all of which, in the utter weariness of the previous 
 night's flitting, had been overlooked. 
 
 Female Wiggens immediately proceeded down- 
 stairs, when looking through the kitchen window, 
 she beheld her lord's faithful animal huddled up 
 and trembling in a corner of the yard, whence he 
 had been ejected by the landlady, who was stand- 
 ing over him, about to administer a token of her 
 admiration by way of a kick, when her leg was 
 checked in mid-air by the vision of her new 
 lodger's nightcap at the window. The owner of 
 that nightcap having protected the dog so far,
 
 WIGGENS IN SEARCH OF LODGINGS. 139 
 
 looked around her. The parlour fire was unlit, 
 breakfast seemed a very distant achievement, all 
 looked cold, tawdry, and miserable ; the lady in 
 black silk was now a sloven in cotton. Strange as 
 it may appear, as the ire of female Wiggens in- 
 creased it fell upon her spouse's dog as the author 
 of all. With hasty strides she remounts the stairs, 
 and with angry glances at her lord demands of him 
 the dismissal of herself or the unfortunate animal. 
 Male Wiggens remonstrated, but women when they 
 make up their minds are proverbially obstinate. 
 His pleading did not soften a wrinkle on her face ; 
 he felt he must part from one, and decided upon 
 his canine companion. On rising, he even goes 
 to the butcher's and countermands the liver he 
 had ordered, which to his surprise he found had 
 been already done by his wife, the fact of which 
 positively encouraged the man of mutton to grin, 
 and indulge in a joke at the expense of Wiggens, 
 alluding in an indirect manner to his "missus" 
 wearing the unmentionables ; but the joke was 
 profitable only to the joker. Wiggens spurned the 
 base insinuation and gazed at his dog, who, whilst 
 wagging his tail looked around upon the tempting 
 bits, selecting those most agreeable to his palate, 
 and licking his lips in imagination of the dainty 
 morsels. With disappointment he followed his 
 master from the shop, and showed no more a
 
 140 WIGGENS IN SEAECH OP LODGINGS. 
 
 pleased alacrity, until meeting with some friendly 
 animal who whispered in his ear doubtless the last 
 new joke bandied about by the canine fraternity, 
 the reflection of which set his tail again in motion, 
 and that was the last action noted by his disconsolate 
 master, on parting with him in a new and strange 
 home where he had conveyed him after four days, 
 proprietorship. 
 
 Besides the little disagreeables before spoken of, 
 the new landlady of the Wiggenses had certain 
 singularly original notions, that might have been 
 very excusable in a Robinson Crusoe or an 
 Alexander Selkirk, but appeared rather peculiar to 
 their nicer tastes. For instance, she preferred the 
 aid of a dust pan to cook a mutton chop with to a 
 gridiron, believed a plate full of fat was necessary 
 fully to enjoy it, had a great disgust for table- 
 coverings or superfluous knives and forks, thought 
 spoons unnecessary, and deemed one glass amply 
 sufficient for any number. All this not suiting the 
 somewhat fastidius taste perhaps of Wiggens, after 
 the third meal in the house he determined upon 
 paying a week's rent and at once departing, which 
 determination that afternoon he most faithfully 
 carried out, turning his back upon their late 
 lodgings with the moral reflection, God help the 
 " poor genteel ! " who sacrifice everything for an 
 outward show, who grub on from day to day, silk
 
 WIGGENS IN SEARCH OF LODGINGS. 141 
 
 and rags ! silk and rags ! and more especially 
 heaven help the man who, on a labourer's income, 
 takes to himself " a young lady" wife, as the 
 phrase goes, " well brought up," which generally 
 defined, means she has learnt all the ignorance a 
 boarding-school miss is supposed to acquire, and 
 turns up her nose at making a pudding, cooking a 
 chop, or properly washing her face, when there is 
 only her husband to look at it. 
 
 So again did Wiggens remove his traps, his 
 wife but alas ! not his dog to a new abode, dis- 
 covered under the disadvantage of a pelting shower, 
 and a thick grimy deposit of dirt on the pavements, 
 with a dull and sooty air, the natural consequences 
 of a Manchester atmosphere. 
 
 Mrs. Wiggens was delighted with the exterior 
 of her new home, as they approached in a cab. 
 " So nice and clean such a very quiet, respectable- 
 looking house." It certainly was somewhat strange 
 the amount ^of attention from the neighbours on 
 their arrival ; heads might be seen through Vene- 
 tian blinds, behind damask curtains, and over wire 
 blinds. Now, Wiggens was naturally a modest 
 man, and was therefore not a little surprised at the 
 conduct of the new landlady ; her domestic being 
 assisting upstairs with his boxes, the said lady 
 amused herself by pushing at the fleshy protube- 
 rance on the lower portion of the girl's back, and
 
 142 WIGGENS IN SEARCH OF LODGINGS. 
 
 occasionally imparting a pinch thereto, whether to 
 aid her locomotion or give fresh zest to the merri- 
 ment apparently existing between them, to Wig- 
 gens was doubtful. They say, "Familiarity breeds 
 contempt," and following the suggestion the pros- 
 pect was decidedly not cheering ; but the rooms 
 being very inviting, and a little rest positively 
 necessary, the new lodgers resolved to make the 
 best of it. We will pass over various little peculi- 
 arities in the consumption of tea and sugar and 
 put it down to evaporation we will not even 
 transcribe the new landladlady's enforced familiarity, 
 or her history, which had been confided to female 
 Wiggens immediately on male Wiggens turning 
 his back no, suffice it, three days are gone and 
 Sunday at length has arrived, and in the evening 
 returning to his domicile, the said gentleman, to his 
 surprise found a great crowd surrounding the door, 
 and people pointing to him as an object of curiosity 
 as he ascended the steps. On entering the house 
 what was his horror to run plump into the arms of 
 a policeman, to have the bull's eye of a second 
 turned upon him, and to feel himself dragged by the 
 neck by his wife, who was calling loudly for 
 his protection. His amazed but dignified presence 
 somewhat restored peace, and then did he learn 
 the wife had been beating the landlord, and the 
 landlord had been beating the domestic, who, five
 
 WIGGENS IN SEAKCH OF LODGINGS. 143 
 
 feet ten in her stockings, had wisely flown for 
 protection behind the young and lovely female 
 Wiggens, who stood four feet nothing in her Bal- 
 morals. The latter lady deeming discretion the 
 better part of valour, and the use of her lungs on 
 such an occasion indispensable, had boldly sallied 
 out, screaming lustily, into the street, and seizing 
 hold of an aged, decrepid veteran of ninety, had 
 dragged him into the fray, who, whilst the cries of 
 " murder !" grew fast and furious, contented him- 
 self by exclaiming, " Dear, deary me ! what is the 
 matter ? Is anybody a hurtin' anybody ?" in a 
 voice long since descended to " childish treble 
 notes." The worst of calamities must have an end, 
 so apparently had this, when the ill-fated Wiggens 
 at once informed the lady of the house he and his 
 wife were quiet, modest people, unused to such 
 notoriety, and must perforce retire from the scene of 
 action on the following Saturday. Then, foolishly 
 dreaming the peace of all parties comparatively re- 
 stored, they adjourned to bed; but, ere many minutes 
 had elapsed, footsteps echoed through the passages 
 more and more furious grew the landlady's voice, 
 who had falsely lulled the unsuspicious lodgers 
 into seeming security crash ! went the sound of 
 crockery bang ! went the flying furniture the 
 smell of fire was distinctly visible, and the Wig- 
 genses tremble, in the sheets, picturing the house
 
 144 WIGGENS IN SEARCH OF LODGINGS. 
 
 in flames and themselves wandering in search of 
 shelter through the cold streets, with nothing but 
 their night gear two interesting objects. Not 
 until morning dawned did the tempest subside, and 
 then did they congratulate themselves their night's 
 expectations had not been realized, for not only 
 had the amiable tigress of the house broken the 
 furniture and burnt the table cloths, but even the 
 Wiggenses' dips had not been held sacred two 
 pounds of them had been ruthlessly cast upon the 
 flames to increase their fury. 
 
 This was of course past endurance, and once 
 more the male Wiggens departs on his mission for 
 lodgings. Door after door reverberates beneath his 
 hand house after house he enters street after 
 street he wanders through. Of course it was rain- 
 ing, it had hardly left off for three months ; useless 
 it would be to enumerate the grubby children who 
 would insist on wiping their hands on his trousers, 
 or getting between his legs, crying out, "Daddy, 
 Daddy !" at which the mothers look at Wiggens, 
 and smirk, as much as to say, " Don't you feel 
 proud of being taken for a father ;" but with a 
 frown he rebukes them his heart is adamant 
 he feels not one throb of a daddy in his breast, 
 for he knows that he is childless. Vain would 
 it be to tell of the communicative old ladies who, 
 getting the amiable Wiggens into a corner, relate to 
 him the history of themselves and their ancestry to
 
 WIGGENS IN SEARCH OF LODGINGS. 145 
 
 the earliest generation, the qualities of their lodgers, 
 their occupations, and a few remarks upon the 
 lodgers of their neighbours. No ; let all this pass, 
 and we will speak of one episode alone, when 
 attracted by a more than usually respectable exte- 
 rior, Wiggens at once agitated the knocker, and 
 the following was the result : A female appeared 
 a tall, stout, fresh-coloured, young and grimy 
 individual, with a dress formed after the fashion 
 of Joseph's garment of many colours, supported on 
 all sides by pins. 
 
 WIGGENS : " Can I see the landlady?" 
 
 FEMALE : " I be the landlady." 
 
 WIGGENS (with surprise) : Are you, indeed ?" 
 
 FEMALE : " Yes, I be ; come in, sir. Mind, 
 now, you were nearly in that there pail (he having 
 stumbled over the same, in the middle of the pas- 
 sage.) I'm a-washin to-day." 
 
 WIGGENS : Ah, yes ; the passage, nothing else 
 I suppose ?" 
 
 FEMALE : " No, I doesn't trouble soap and 
 water too often ; it ain't good." 
 
 " Ain't it?" said Wiggens, wondering how long 
 it could possibly be since she had cleansed her 
 skin, and continuing "Well, I will not come 
 any further. I came to look at your lodgings, but 
 I don't think they will suit." 
 
 '* Why, you ain't see'd 'em yet, young man. Oh, 
 lawks ! drat that child," said the woman, pointing to
 
 146 WIGGENS IN SEARCH OF LODGINGS. 
 
 a dirty little creature in the kitchen, "if he hasn't 
 gone and emptied the shovel of dust into the 
 bread pan. I'll kill yer, yer young warmint." 
 And away she darted, bringing captive back her 
 offspring, a worthy branch from such a tree, on 
 whose flesh a prolific crop of mustard and cress 
 might have been cultivated, and who commenced 
 crying with all his might. "Hold yer tongue, or else 
 this here gent will take you away, so I tells yer 
 yer little devil," continued the lady. 
 
 " The Fates preserve me from such an incum- 
 brance," thought Wiggens, at the same time the 
 female applied the cloth she was cleaning the 
 passage with to the pimple or apology in the shape 
 of a nose on the face of her cherub. 
 
 " This is the blessedest young'un you ever see'd 
 for mischief, sir ; he's the the image of his father." 
 
 "What an interesting family," thought Wiggens, 
 adding aloud, " Good day !" 
 
 " Ain't yer a going to look at my lodgings ? I'll 
 take yer in and do for yer ; you'd be very com- 
 fortable, and I'm a stunner to cook." 
 
 " No doubt about it," said Wiggens. " My 
 good woman, you would effectually do for me in a 
 week if I entered your house ; as I said before, 
 ' Good day.' " And away he walked, followed by 
 her abuse ; that he heeded not, for he was reflect- 
 ing on the errors we are continually making in this 
 world by arriving at conclusions from a decent exte-
 
 WIGGENS IN SEARCH OF LODGINGS. 147 
 
 nor, of the falsity of which his lodging-hunting had 
 afforded many examples. There was another me- 
 lancholy reflection should he be compelled to 
 wander ahout the streets in this unsettled condition 
 until Christmas-day, how was Mrs. Wiggens to 
 indulge in that custom so endeared to us at this 
 time of year by the habits of our forefathers, and the 
 recollections of our own earlier years, viz., " having 
 a Christmas pudding on a Christmas-day?" Ever 
 since the last she had dreamt and talked much of 
 an experiment to be tried that might possibly pre- 
 vent it from having the solidity of a cricket ball, as 
 on that occasion. Wiggens knew if Mrs. W. was 
 disappointed the blame would fall upon his innocent 
 head, and even the memory of his dog would not re- 
 main scathless ; he folt the happiness of not only his 
 Christmas-day, but many days after, depended on 
 that pudding, so with fresh energy he set to work, 
 and at length his peregrinations ceased. He de- 
 cided upon a another and seemingly comfortable 
 abode. On again paying a week's rent in advance to 
 the amiable tigress and ruthless destroyer of his 
 " dips," he departed, and was last seen entering 
 within the precincts of his new home, with the 
 female Wiggens's jar of onions in one hand and 
 her work-basket in the other bearing goodwill 
 towards all men, hoping to spend, if not a merry, 
 at least a comfortable Christmas-day, and a happier 
 New Year !
 
 148 
 
 A STRANGE SUICIDE. 
 
 Oh ! deaf to natnre, and to heaven's command ! 
 Against thyself to lift the murdering hand ; 
 damn'd despair ! to shun the living light, 
 And plunge thy guilty soul in endless night ! 
 
 LUCBETIUS. 
 
 ON a certain night in the spring of 1852, any one 
 
 passing along the main road leading from G , 
 
 a small market town in one of the southern coun- 
 ties, would certainly have paused to remark a 
 beautiful little English cottage, situate to the right 
 of the traveller, if leaving the adjacent town. It 
 was a two-storeyed gable-roofed building of the 
 good old style of architecture, with pretty, quaint- 
 looking chimney pots, trelliced windows, and walls 
 concealed with ivy, jasmine, or clematis. It had 
 a neat wooden porch, redolent with the climbing 
 rose and the sweet honeysuckle, a smooth green 
 lawn, flowers of various hues in every nook and 
 corner, the graceful fuchsia, the scented heliotrope, 
 and the brilliant geranium. The windows fairly 
 gleamed in the snow-like whiteness of their adorn- 
 ments, and from every lattice lights reflected
 
 A STRANGE SUICIDE. 149 
 
 brightly, whilst the blinds were turned into so many 
 Fantoccini's with human figures for their shadows, 
 and sounds of music and revelry stole upon the 
 still night air. 
 
 The stars might be counted in myriads, so clear 
 and beautiful was the sky, whilst the moon shone 
 so brightly that every object was rendered distinctly 
 visible. In the flower garden, at the back of the 
 cottage, walked a young man of about twenty-five. 
 His features were regular and handsome, his com- 
 plexion dark, his large intelligent eyes hazel. He 
 paced with hurried steps, sometimes abruptly 
 pausing, but with his eyes intently fixed upon the 
 heavens, and occasionally he might have been 
 heard to murmur " Strange, very strange ! Are 
 they worlds ? Would death reveal ?" At length 
 his attention was attracted by a figure in white 
 advancing towards him from the house, and a light 
 step resounding on the gravel walk. It was the 
 form of a pretty fair-haired girl, with long shining 
 tresses, rosy lips, and bright blue eyes. 
 
 " Come, Walter," she said, and her voice floated 
 on the air soft as the cadence of an Molism harp 
 " Papa and all our friends are wondering at your 
 absence. What a dull boy you are, to prefer 
 walking about here in the dark !" 
 
 " Nay, it is not dark, Kate ; look, what a lovely 
 night. How bright the stars are !"
 
 150 A STKANGE SUICIDE. 
 
 " I don't wish to look at them when yon are 
 near me, "Walter. In your face I see the only star 
 I care for : should that cease shining on me " 
 
 " And what then, my bonny Kate ?" he asked. 
 
 " The world to me would then be darkness. 
 Yet I would think that from the brightest of all, 
 your soul looked down upon me." 
 
 " God bless you, Kate ! you are my own 
 darling," he exclaimed, 
 
 " But come, Walter, come to papa ; they will not 
 remain longer without you. Papa says you are 
 the life of the party, and so you are." 
 
 " Yes, but I am warm now, let me remain 
 here a few minutes longer. You will, won't you 
 my pretty bird ?" As he spoke this he parted 
 the ringlets from off her brow, and gazed into 
 the depths of her loving eyes. " You are my 
 own bonny Kate, are you not?" he continued ; but 
 no words issued from her lips, yet the sunny smile 
 which suffused her features, and the warm blood 
 mantling to her brow, gave an eloquent reply. 
 
 " Why will you not come with me ?" she asked, 
 as if to avoid his question, " do you really wish to 
 walk here alone ?" 
 
 " Well, it is such a lovely night, and the flowers 
 smell so sweetly. You cannot think how refreshing 
 it is to breathe the pure air, after being almost 
 stifled in that warm room,"
 
 A STRANGE SUICIDE. 151 
 
 " Still, Walter, you seemed to enjoy yourself. 
 Were you not doing so ?" 
 
 " Yes, Kate ; but yet you must confess, in all 
 these parties there are a great many silly people ; 
 and besides, although I am merry, you must not 
 always think I am happy." 
 
 " Not happy !" she said, " not happy ! I did not 
 notice it before. Are you angry with me ?" 
 
 " What nonsense, dearest : can I ever be angry 
 with you ?" 
 
 " I don't know ; some people are angry and can- 
 not give any particular reason for it. A thought- 
 less word will often unconsciously wound ; there- 
 fore, although I have tried to be good, you may be 
 angry with me." As she spoke thus, a bright tear 
 glided down her cheek. There are few men who 
 can see a woman weep without emotion, especially 
 a young and pretty one : so Walter thought as he 
 kissed her, and putting his arm round her waist, 
 turned her tears to laughter by a well-timed joke, 
 and together they passed into the cottage, happier 
 than ever, bearing out the following stanza of 
 Scott's : 
 
 " The rose is fairest when 'tis budding new, 
 And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears ; 
 The rose is sweetest washed with morning dew, 
 And love is loveliest when embalmed with tears." 
 
 In order to give more interest to this story, it is
 
 152 A STRANGE SUICIDE. 
 
 necessary to put the reader on familiar terms with 
 the persons concerned. 
 
 Kate Vincent was one of two sisters. Her father 
 had been some two years previously in a wealthy and 
 influential position in the neighbouring borough 
 town ; but owing to an unfortunate specula- 
 tion he was considerably reduced in circumstances, 
 and his wife dying about this time, he at once 
 retired from a mercantile life, with the small resi- 
 due of his property, and taking Ivy Cottage resolved 
 to lead a quieter existence with his two daughters. 
 But a man used to active business habits can sel- 
 dom rest without employment of some kind : an 
 appointment being vacant in one of the parochial 
 offices, he applied, and from the deserved respect 
 in which he was held, he at once obtained it. 
 Kate was the eldest child, possessing a sweet dis- 
 position, and a pretty winning face, as already 
 described. With such recommendations, I need 
 hardly say, she had many suitors or would-be 
 numbering about the usual aggregate of sensible 
 men, of manly lovers, and sighing donkeys. The 
 one selected by her father, and by the warmer dic- 
 tates of her own heart, was Walter Worthington, a 
 young man of good connections, station, and habits, 
 whilst with the ladies he possessed, in his hand- 
 some face and most agreeable manners, still 
 stronger recommendations. Within the last two
 
 A STRANGE SUICIDE. 153 
 
 years he had entered into partnership with an old- 
 established practitioner, a surgeon in the adjoining 
 town, and there "being between his family and this 
 gentleman a long-tried friendship, they were en- 
 abled to conduct matters in a peaceful and profitable 
 manner. His position being thus comparatively 
 secure, Walter had obtained the consent of Mr. 
 Vincent, and the marriage was to take place in a 
 few days ; thus before them seemed a future of 
 unclouded happiness. 
 
 Some writers possess the peculiar tact of drawing 
 interest from the dullest of all dull things, a truly 
 English modern genteel party : they will tell you 
 about the dances, repeat to you the vapid, un- 
 meaning, envious, and hypercritical small-talk, de- 
 scribe the furniture with all the care of an auc- 
 tioneer's inventory, and the silks, satins, bows, 
 ribbons, flowers, jewellery, and even the very boots 
 and shoes serve as matter for your regular book- 
 maker to dish up for the edification of the reader, 
 I have not the will, nor do I possess the power, to 
 enter into such minutiae. The chilling genteel 
 parties of your very genteel people, and your fashion- 
 able balls, are to me the greatest species of boredom 
 the world can inflict me with. I am no recluse, nor 
 am I uncharitable in saying this, but I hate most 
 cordially anything where the artifical and the false 
 are predominant. As a proof of good will towards
 
 154 A STRANGE SUICIDE. 
 
 real enjoyment I prefer a good old hard-working 
 country dance to all the stiff, formal, figurative 
 quadrilles that were ever invented. Although a 
 young man, above even a country dance I prefer a 
 good romp, as if the days of my birchdom and boy- 
 hood had not passed away. I love to hear the lungs 
 expanding in the joyous laugh, without entailing 
 on their owner the unenviable title of an " uncul>- 
 tivated bear." 
 
 Now, Mr. Vincent had deemed it necessary 
 for the welfare of his daughters to succumb to 
 modern taste and become a genteel man ; this was, 
 therefore, a genteel party. I have called them 
 merry so they were after a fashion, but it was a 
 sort of consumptive mirth, until Walter entered : 
 his presence was welcomed by one and all. 
 The moment he left the room it was like a cloud 
 falling over the assembly he returned, and all was 
 light again. Why was this ? Simply because he 
 had the power and audacity to break through the 
 formality and frigidity that surrounded him. 
 Against their own sense of what was or was not 
 " right and proper," people were made to laugh, 
 and the natural instincts of their nature were 
 brought forth. In others such infringements 
 might not have been received ; in him there was a 
 gentlemanly style which made them irresistible. 
 At length the time arrived for all parties to sepa-
 
 A STRANGE SUICIDE. 155 
 
 rate, and the guests had all departed, save and 
 except one gentleman who lingered beneath the 
 porch of the cottage door, in close conversation 
 with a lady, whilst another forlorn individual sat 
 on the garden gate idly swinging his legs and 
 whistling. The gentleman in the first and deci- 
 dedly most agreahle position was Walter, and the 
 lady Kate Vincent, whilst the friend on the gate 
 was waiting to accompany Walter home, as they 
 lived within a few doors of each other. " Ah !" 
 thought the former, " what a lucky rascal he is 
 what a silver lining in his life-cloud is this pretty 
 and amiable girl. And there he stands with his 
 arm round her waist, their heads almost touching ; 
 confound it, it is enough to make a fellow wild I 
 can't look any longer;" so he very wisely turned 
 away, but was soon interrupted in his reverie by a 
 merry " whoop" at his side, from Walter, and 
 together they started on their homeward journey. 
 
 " Well," said his friend, " you are a pretty fel- 
 low to keep me waiting all this while half- 
 an-hour if it is a minute. The next time you have 
 a little matter of that kind to settle I shall provide 
 myself with a nightcap, and take a snooze under 
 the hedge." 
 
 " Well, old fellow," replied Walter, " I am very 
 sorry, but could not help it ; it may have ap- 
 peared long to you, having nothing else but the 
 
 H2
 
 156 A STRANGE SUICIDE. 
 
 moon to look at, but you see I had a pair of bright 
 eyes which, decidedly for us mortals, hath a stronger 
 magnetic influence than that elderly, though much 
 respected lady. Upon my life, to me it scarcely 
 seemed a minute. 
 
 " Very likely ! hours are minutes, I know, when 
 a pretty girl is in the field. You are a happy dog. 
 I get no such opportunities, although I have been 
 on the look-out since I was thirteen years old ; if 
 I ever do succeed I'll punish the unlucky wight I 
 have for a companion as you do me." 
 
 " Do, do ; you have my full permission take 
 ample vengeance on him. And now let us change 
 the subject. Bob, tip us a stave. ' Woman, dear 
 woman ! the charm of our life ! ' Confound it ! 
 when I attempt to sing, I generally break down, 
 though that has been my crack song for the last 
 ten years. Sing something with a rattling chorus ; 
 I'll join you in that, for I have capital lungs, and 
 I feel I must make a row of some kind." Suiting 
 the humour of the moment, his friend commenced, 
 but had scarcely finished a verse when he was 
 interrupted by Walter. 
 
 " Wait a bit, Bob ; I am just thinking I can 
 scarcely believe in a few days I shall be a married 
 man. I cannot realize the happiness some how 
 or other. What a deuce of a world this is ! We are 
 always wanting something, which we no sooner
 
 A STRANGE SUICIDE. 157 
 
 get than we are striving after something else and 
 so we go on from year's end to year's end. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Walter, that is certainly 
 not the case with me. I made a full stop at the 
 first something, and there I have stuck ever since." 
 
 " Look there !" said Walter, abruJPtly halting, 
 and pointing towards the sky. 
 
 " What is the matter ?" asked his friend. 
 
 " A shooting star ; did you not see it ?" 
 
 " Well, what of that ? Do you suppose I have 
 never seen one before ?" 
 
 ' If anybody lives there it must decidedly be 
 uncomfortable," said Walter, especially after a good 
 dinner. It strikes me that remark is somewhat 
 profane, but never mind, I only wish I was there, 
 or up in the moon, I think that would be the 
 best place !" 
 
 " Then, why in the name of conscience don't 
 you mount on a birch broom, like Mother Goose, 
 and go up there, or else invent some patent aerial 
 machine, only take care you don't make a mess of 
 it, as somebody did of his wings in Rasselas." 
 
 " I know you only laugh at me, and really that 
 is what I deserve, for I am always bothering my 
 head about a future that must ever in this life 
 remain a mystery, Fire away, Bob, let us have 
 the other verses of that song." 
 
 With that, his friend commenced again. Walter
 
 158 A STRANGE SUICIDE. 
 
 Worthington joined in, and their voices broke upon 
 the silent streets of the little town as they entered 
 it with song and laughter, occasionally, I have 
 no doubt, startling some of the " snoring citi- 
 zens," who, waking in drowsy wonder, listened, 
 then cursing the cause, turned over once more, and 
 drawing the clothes still closer round them, 
 mounted again on the shadowy wings of dream- 
 land. At length they arrived at an exceedingly 
 nice house, with that air of staid respectability 
 about it peculiar to professional men, especially 
 doctors. It was Walter's home. They paused at 
 it just as two o'clock chimed forth from the old 
 gray turret of the parish church. 
 
 " Good night ! or rather, good morning !" said 
 Walter. What a lovely night it is, almost too 
 lovely for sleep. Talking of sleep, what is it 
 Byron says ? 
 
 " ' Death, so call'd, is a thing that makes men weep, 
 And yet a third of life is passed in sleep.' 
 
 " Not a bad idea that !" 
 
 " Yet remember there is a vast deal of difference, 
 Walter, between the two ; our every day is a sleep 
 of exhaustion ; the sleep of death is a sleep of 
 eternity." 
 
 " And so much the better, when you get tired of 
 life ; but I am not going to argue the matter with 
 you. Good night, old fellow !"
 
 A STKANGE SUICIDE. 159 
 
 "Good night ! See you to-morrow, Walter?" 
 
 " All right," cried Worthington, entering his 
 house, and his friend turned up the street whistling 
 and thinking at the same time, " what a happy 
 fellow he must be, he hasn't a care. I do not 
 envy him, but I wish myself in his shoes." 
 
 Morning dawned, a bright and glorious morn- 
 ing ; the lark was upon the wing carolling a 
 thrilling welcome to the king of light. From each 
 tree and bush feathered songsters greeted the 
 early rays ; the flowers opened their petals to bask 
 in sunshine, and shook off the dewy tears of 
 night, the bee humming in gladness sought the 
 honey-cup ; the poor, ill-paid yet contented hus- 
 bandman rose from his humble lair and whistled 
 merrily as he sought the fields ; even the wretched 
 half-starved unowned mendicant dog stretched 
 himself, and rising from his airy lodgings on the 
 door step wagged his tail, and with renewed 
 vigour sought a breakfast amongst the garbage of 
 the gutters. 
 
 At the door of Walter Worthington's house a 
 decently-dressed mechanic was knocking, and from 
 the violence of his efforts he had seemingly been 
 so engaged for some time. Presently, a window on 
 the top floor opened and a head was thrust out, 
 evidently belonging to a young fellow only half 
 awake. " Steady, there, old chap !" cried the
 
 160 A STRANGE SUICIDE. 
 
 head, " you'll knock the door down, if you go on 
 that way. What's the row ?" 
 
 "Is Mr. Saunders at home ?" asked the stranger, 
 in an agitated voice. 
 
 " No, he doesn't live here ; he is out of town." 
 
 " What shall I do ? " murmured the man 
 " What a pity !" 
 
 " Now then, old cock, I am not going to stay 
 here, catching cold ; what do you want ?" 
 
 "Is Mr. Worthington at home?" asked the man. 
 
 "I believe he is; if he isn't he ought to be. 
 Who has the stomach-ache ?" 
 
 " My wife, sir, is very ill, very ill indeed !" said 
 the man. 
 
 " Why couldn't you say so before ? Who is 
 your wife ?" 
 
 " Mrs. Larkins the master has been attending 
 on her before." 
 
 " Why don't you tell me something new ?" 
 facetiously replied the young fellow at the window, 
 who was the articled assistant. '* All right ; I'll 
 shake Mr. Worthington up. He'll be at your 
 house in a crack !" 
 
 " Thank you, sir," said the man, who with hasty 
 steps retraced his path home to rouse the sinking 
 energies of his suffering wife with the promise of 
 approaching medical aid. The assistant, of course, 
 not in the least hurrying himself; pulled on his
 
 A STRANGE SUICIDE. 161 
 
 clothes and went downstairs to the room of Worth- 
 ington. He knocked several times, but receiving 
 no reply at length cautiously opened the door and 
 entered. The blinds of the windows had not been 
 drawn down, so that the morning sun with unob- 
 structed brilliancy shone into the room, and fell 
 upon the form of the sleeper as he lay in bed, with 
 his face from the door. On a chair were carelessly 
 thrown the clothes he had worn the night before, 
 and on a small round table, which had been 
 moved to the side of the bed, stood an empty ale 
 bottle, a tumbler with a few dregs of beer at the 
 bottom, and by the side of the tumbler a small 
 phial. The right arm and hand of Worthington 
 lay exposed upon the coverlid, whilst between the 
 fingers he held a half-smoked cigar, of which the 
 room smelt strongly, and the ashes were scattered 
 on the bed. " Oh ! that is the little game," mut- 
 tered the assistant, " so you were out on the spree 
 last night, governor, were you, and you finished up 
 when you got home. What a devil of a sleep 
 he must be in ! I'll shake him up." He ap- 
 proached the bed and took the sleeper's hand. 
 The very touch blanched his face and made him 
 tremble, he almost fell to the ground, and in doing 
 so gave an impetus to the body of Walter, turning 
 it over facing him a corpse ! The face rested full 
 within the glare of sunshine, the eyes were un-
 
 162 A STRANGE SUICIDE. 
 
 naturally dilated, the pupil hardly visible, the fea- 
 tures were firmly set, cold and marble-like, the 
 mouth being slightly drawn down. Notwithstand- 
 ing all this, divesting the face of its horrors, there 
 was a peculiarly calm expression ; whilst the hair, 
 short, curly and jet black, contrasting with the 
 alabaster of the skin, added to the strangeness of 
 the spectacle. The assistant for a moment stood 
 dumb with fear, unable even to articulate. On his 
 senses returning he at once went to the table, and 
 took up the phial. It was labelled " Poison," and 
 on a piece of paper at its side was written, " One 
 
 more pull at the cigar, and then " This broke 
 
 the spell, for rushing through the house, he made 
 it resound with his cries. 
 
 By the aid of poison, thus calmly and deli- 
 berately, in the midst of health, wealth, and every 
 blessing the heart could apparently wish for, with- 
 out reason assigned, or a word of regret to the 
 young, loving and innocent girl whom he had 
 parted from but a few hours back, had Walter 
 Worthington dared that death against which 
 
 " There is a prohibition so divine, 
 It cravens my weak hand."
 
 163 
 
 PRIDE : 
 
 A FASHIONABLE WATERING PLACE. 
 
 " We laugh heartily to see a whole flock of sheep jump because 
 one did so ; might not one imagine that superior beings do the 
 same by us, and for exactly the same reason ?" 
 
 GKEVILLE. 
 
 Fashion, a word which knaves and fools may use 
 Their knavery and folly to excuse. 
 
 CHURCHILL. 
 
 Off the southern coast of England there is a water- 
 ing place, celebrated as holding the first rank for 
 its aristocratical pretentious, and, as must of ne- 
 cessity follow, its exclusiveness. In the , last 
 respect its society forms a striking example of this 
 peculiar and unamiable characteristic of the Eng- 
 lish, in contradistinction to our more lively and 
 agreeable continental neighbours. Woe to the 
 male or female bold enough to attempt breaking 
 through the stalactitic orbit surrounding this 
 hemisphere of stars and planets of superior huma- 
 nity (?) unless bearing with them a passport gua- 
 ranteeiugj his or her patrician blood back to the 
 fourth and fifth generation. Though a being
 
 164 PRIDE. 
 
 moulded in a less pretentious clay, it has been my 
 lot to pass one or two of the fashionable months for 
 several seasons here ; and being naturally of a con- 
 tented disposition, regarding little the buzzers or 
 gadflies of our every-day life, I have contrived to 
 enjoy myself from several reasons firstly, because I 
 am able to boast of a very pleasant circle of friends ; 
 secondly, I love to explore the beautiful environs ; 
 and thirdly, I find amusement in loitering along 
 the shore, when the tide is out, to examine the 
 little translucid pools (after the manner of tourists 
 in general) to find I can't exactly say what, or 
 still better to persuade myself I am a great deal 
 wiser than people in general, and fully calculated 
 to philosophize over the folly and vanity of a com- 
 munity who ought, by right of their education and 
 position, to set a better example than they gene- 
 nerally do folly which the fashion and ambition 
 of lionizing may sanction in their minds, but which 
 even womanly delicacy should shrink from, and 
 common sense must repudiate. 
 
 The town of (we must give it a name Pride 
 will do as well as any other) is certainly in itself 
 very attractive, possessing a very lengthy and im- 
 posing pier, an excellent esplanade, great cleanli- 
 ness, and capital bathing. You have but to mount 
 one of the coaches (four-horse coaches too) though 
 not the good old rattling, dust-besmothering mails
 
 PKIDE. 165 
 
 of other days, but their younger sons chips of the 
 old block to be respected for their novelty ; they 
 start at short intervals during the day, and in the 
 course of half an hour, or so, you will be the de- 
 lighted spectator of as fine wooded and undulating 
 or bold and romantic scenery, as may be found 
 enclosed within the white cliffs of this favoured 
 land. There is a certain amount of homogeneous- 
 ness in the peculiarities of all English watering 
 places more or less Cockneyism pervades every- 
 thing and here, too, as elsewhere. The trades- 
 people make the most of their harvest season by 
 imposing on your good nature and your pocket 
 to the best of their ability ape the vices instead 
 of the virtues of their betters ; hotel touters and 
 Bath chairmen (a numerous class here) worry you, 
 pier proprietors make you pay well, German bands- 
 men blow away from morning until night, acrobats 
 make your blood run cold by their horrible contor- 
 tions, niggers make bad puns, and your eyes are in 
 danger of being knocked out by gentlemen for 
 everlasting looking through telescopes, young 
 ladies are ducked by blue-serged matrons, naughty 
 little boys and girls object to their threatened 
 ablutions, despite the insinuating "Will 'em 
 have a little swim a rosy-posy ?" or other jargon 
 familiar to us in our juvenile days, young gen- 
 tlemen (unripe mushrooms) exhibit themselves to
 
 166 PRIDE. 
 
 the best or worst advantage in hats, caps, and head 
 gears of all sorts, colours, and denominations, with 
 neck-circumventing collars, and garments as draft- 
 boardy, stripe-impounding, or Neptune-like im- 
 posing as the most valued heart could wish. Thus 
 far we recognise the spirit of Cockneyism in Pride ; 
 but, if I may be allowed the opinion, for the gene- 
 ral costume and free and easy conduct of the ladies, 
 Pride stands alone in its glory or its extravagance. 
 Crinolines of the most outrageous dimensions im- 
 pose the necessity of keeping a respectful distance ; 
 here waists are contorted to unnatural and most 
 injurious proportions ; boots of all colours of the 
 rainbow to quote Sir John Suckling 
 
 " Like little mice, 
 Steal gently in and out." 
 
 Though, by-the-bye, this very sweet similie will 
 hardly hold good with the young Countess of 
 P , who, during her visit here, took to first-rate 
 regalias and Wellingtons. Here dresses are fes- 
 tooned like the valances of our drawing-room win- 
 dow curtains. Jackets are worn, as near as it is 
 possible to have them, resembling the masculine 
 cut, and it becomes fashionable to thrust the 
 little delicate, jewelled ungloved hands in the 
 side-pockets of their jackets, which, with an elabo- 
 rately feathered wide-awake, cocked on one side, 
 gives a decided negligee and saucy expression. It
 
 PRIDE. 167 
 
 is not by any means an uncommon occurrence to 
 find yourself rudely impelled off the pavement by 
 half-a-dozen gentlemen in yachting costume, form- 
 ing the body-guard round a single lady ; thus they 
 perambulate the streets and accompany her to the 
 shops, laughing and loudly talking, more like rude 
 and boisterous children just let out of school 
 than educated people. Heaven help the character 
 of any respectable tradesman's daughter who would 
 dare be guilty of indiscretion that here may be 
 daily seen enacted by these fair members of the 
 highest households of this and other countries. 
 The most accomplished flirt she who can the most 
 easily assume the masculine gender would appear 
 to be the most admired. I am not like the fox ; in 
 fact I have a most decided antipathy to that 
 animal, who called the grapes sour because 
 they were beyond his reach. I can admire and 
 do admire many things in the position of the 
 fox, but I hate extremes in the fair sex ; it is de- 
 grading to them, as any outrage upon that graceful 
 and modest deportment we look for must of neces- 
 sity be. Would it were possible that the following 
 delightful lines of the poet Eowe could be written 
 indelibly in their hearts and minds : 
 
 " The bloom of op'ning flowers, unsullied beauty, 
 Softness, and sweetest innocence she wears, 
 And looks like nature in the world's first spring.''
 
 168 PRIDE. 
 
 Or turning to the pages of Ben Jonson's " Silent 
 Woman," first acted in 1609, there is a verse of 
 a madrigal singularly appropos to the subject, and 
 happy in its quaintness 
 
 " Give me a look, give me a face, 
 That makes simplicitie a grace ; 
 Robes loosely flowing, haire as free : 
 Such sweet neglect more taketh me 
 Than all the adulteries of art, 
 That strike mine eyes, but not my heart." 
 
 But enough of this moralizing, let us take a 
 peep at one or two of the lions I have had the 
 gratification that is not the word, but let it pass 
 of seeing here. First of the list stands Mr. 
 Fussabout Nancy. This gentleman is a resident, 
 remarkable in his appearance only, for a mode- 
 rately good looking face, minus expression, a 
 bandbox exactness of costume, his penchant for 
 light kid gloves, and the everlasting glass in his eye, 
 which people (good-natured ones, of course,) say 
 he even sleeps with. This gentleman is the Beau 
 Nash, or Beau Brummel of Pride, without their 
 liberality, he belongs to that order of the biped 
 tribe denominated " ladies' men !" insipid and 
 lackadaisical members of the human family. No 
 resident or visitor of his " set" deems her dress 
 worthy of wearing, without the ordeal of his critical 
 eye. He is the choice chaperon to the linen- 
 drapers, the prime disposer of ribbonds, laces, and
 
 knicknacks. A fancy fair is his element, he is the 
 very spirit of the sales and the small-talk, the ar- 
 ranger of the stalls, the pincushions, the anti- 
 Macassors, and the patchwork. Formerly one of 
 the oldest and most respected inhabitants of Pride, 
 an inhabitant and householder when Pride was 
 little better than a fishing village, and you had to 
 play at " pig-a-back" with boatmen to get on 
 shore then and for years this gentleman gave 
 four balls during the season. Mr. Nancy found 
 out he could do it cheaper six shillings a ticket, 
 or a guinea for the four, including coffee and 
 negus, was too much. Shade of Beau Nash, 
 what do you say to this ? So Mr. Nancy hired the 
 rooms over a pastry-cook's shop, he being pro tern. 
 the Baron Nathan of each occasion, and ladies of 
 title, and gentlemen with high-sounding names, 
 were much happier in dancing and making merry 
 sixpence a-head cheaper. I hear he has even im- 
 proved upon this, and established for the winter 
 months a shilling hop, once a week. Here's 
 economy ! Here's an example for your Chancellor 
 of the Exchequer ! Now that private theatricals 
 are the rage, he is considered a most accomplished 
 actor. Other people, who make it their profes- 
 sion, take years of hard work to learn the art, 
 with credit to themselves, and these too often 
 are far from achieving their end ; but our gentle-
 
 170 PRIDE. 
 
 men amateurs are all actors in their own conceit, 
 they are born so, it comes intuitively to them, I sup- 
 pose they take in the knowledge with their mother's 
 milk. Nancy, of course, had the entire manage- 
 ment of all such displays in his aristocratic circle. 
 I can bear witness that he is an original actor, 
 having had the honour of seeing him play a poor 
 Corsican peasant, dressed in an elaborately -brocaded 
 costume, a sort of brigand chief highly coloured, 
 in fact, as the boys say, " all kivered in gold and 
 silver ;" and this artistic and peasant-like costume 
 was rendered still more striking by the glass in his 
 eye. I suppose, however, it was correct, judging 
 from the hearty congratulations of the audience. 
 We may conceive the peasants in Corsica to be a 
 vastly different race to the peasants in England, as 
 passing by the gaudy apparel, some of our clod- 
 poles would look rather uncomfortable digging up 
 potatoes, or feeding pigs as they quizzed through 
 the last appendage. 
 
 A few winters ago, the quiet inhabitants were 
 startled from their propriety, and the cheering pro- 
 pensities of the little boys rose to an alarming 
 pitch by the introduction of a sledge a la Russ, 
 driven by Mr. Nancy to the accompaniment of 
 numerous bells. The ladies required a novelty, 
 the sledge was the very thing, and for several 
 mornings Fussabout was in the seventh heaven of
 
 PKIDE. 171 
 
 delight in finding himself " the observed of all 
 observers." By turns, he gave the fair creatures a 
 drive up one street and down another, when, alas ! 
 for poor human ambition, on the occasion of the 
 
 youngest daughter of Lady S accompanying 
 
 him, the sledge upset, and the occupiers were 
 ruthlessly pitched on to the snow, to the infinite 
 amusement of the little boys, who greeted the 
 event with vociferous cheers. I need scarcely add, 
 the sledge, the cause of this dire calamity, was 
 ever afterwards regarded with the utmost ab- 
 horrence. Enongh of this gentleman, let us in- 
 troduce a second lion, or rather lioness. The 
 
 Honourable Mrs. T and her two daughters, 
 
 in consequence of their very high connections, 
 and their association with royalty, were objects 
 of great envy, emulation, and admiration. There 
 resided at Pride a weather-beaten old naval half- 
 pay captain, whom we will call Twiddle. Report 
 declared him rich, and living for some years sepa- 
 rated from his better-half (or worse, as it would 
 seem,) custom declared him a bachelor. Although 
 a gentleman in the common acceptation of the 
 word, he did not belong to the planetary system of 
 Pride : he was, therefore, rather tolerated than re- 
 ceived, yet strange to relate, the honourable Mrs. 
 T. at once discovered in him great virtues, took 
 compassion on his lonely situation, and her daugh- 
 i
 
 172 PEIDE. 
 
 ters, " those sweet girls," attended the old gentle- 
 man out for his airings ; sometimes they playfully 
 called him " papa," then the old man's eyes 
 twinkled with gratification, not that the honourable 
 Mrs. T. augured anything from this. At church 
 it was quite delicious to observe the attention he 
 received. He hired a pew on purpose that the 
 ladies might attend him. He sat between the two 
 " dear girls," who by turns found him the hymn, 
 or the page in the book of prayers, presenting it to 
 him with an innocent smile, acknowledged by the 
 old gentleman with a grin and a nod, whilst 
 the mama looked at first one and then the other, 
 as much as to say, "are they not darlings? You 
 must love and remember them." And did Twiddle 
 " remember " when he died ? No ! Hear it, and 
 blush for him, the monster ! He was smiled upon 
 in vain he left his money to his widow. The 
 honourable lady and her two daughters were also 
 frequent visitors to the poor; they descended from 
 the pinnacle of their grandeur to enter the humble 
 cottage, and they filled, not the stomachs, but the 
 heads of the poor with good advice : their theme 
 was contentment, whilst the half-starved wretches 
 listening to them only pondered how much bread 
 their silks, their satins, and their jewellery would 
 purchase. They told these people of the martyrs, 
 and chided them if they complained: "it was
 
 PRIDE. 173 
 
 wicked ;" above all they must attend regularly at 
 church. If they ventured a remonstrance "they 
 had nothing to go decent in." (And, reader, they are 
 decent men and women in Pride you see no rags 
 and filth on their bodies think of this, poor people 
 of Manchester, Sheffield, Leeds, Bristol, London, 
 and a thousand other places. We will excuse the dirt 
 of industry, but we cannot excuse the rags of indo- 
 lence.) Then would the Christian visitors, like so 
 many other Christian visitors, shut up the Holy Book 
 which teaches patience, and despite their own 
 doctrines on that score, declare them at once incor- 
 rigibles, leaving Jhem in anger to their hunger 
 and their nakedness. 
 
 Pride was in a state of great excitement one 
 morning by the honourable Mrs. T 's carrying a 
 smoking jug of broth through the streets to a 
 poor and talented artist, dying of consumption ! 
 " What an example !" and ladies with jugs of 
 broth became the fashion. The broth, doubtless, 
 was acceptable, but why make charity the vehicle 
 for display ? Byron says : 
 
 " The drying up a single tear has more 
 Of honest fame than shedding seas of gore." 
 
 A beautiful sentiment, expressed in a beautiful 
 couplet ; but let the tear be dried in secret. Then 
 we have the virtue of charity the true principle,
 
 174 PRIDE. 
 
 and not without. The reward of charity should 
 alone rest in an approving conscience. One more 
 lion, and I have done. Who has not heard of the 
 great real, original, and highly-coloured lion-hunter, 
 in comparison with whom Van Hamburgh or the 
 late Mr. Carter sink into insignificance whose 
 wondrous exploits beneath the burning sun of 
 Africa, and "hair-breadth 'scapes i' the imminent 
 deadly breach" have made the hair upon every 
 school-boy's hair stand up " like quills upon the 
 fretful porcupine." Young ladies, and old ones, 
 regard him with delight and awe, and muttered 
 exclamations are heard " Ah, my dear, he is 
 something like a man !" Heedless of the excite- 
 ment he creates, he walks down the middle of the 
 road the road, mind. He has been used to de- 
 serts, and could he, like other men, confine himself 
 to the pavement ? How finely is his tall and 
 manly figure developed by that Highland costume, 
 and what a peculiar expression is given to his face 
 by his hair being worn in a net behind. There's 
 something strikingly original about this ; and then 
 his beard look at it with envy, you beardless 
 youths. What is it he bears in his hand, tied 
 up in a cloth ? Go with him to the end of the 
 pier and you will see. It is his dinner. Think 
 of this, ye uninitiated, in the peculiarities of lion- 
 hunters when they get into civilized society. You
 
 PRIDE. 175 
 
 see, their old habits cling to them not that he in 
 the deserts had the pier steps to sit on and eat his 
 dinner; but he may now imagine it a rock a fallen 
 tree and the waters of the Sound, now gently irri- 
 gating the wooden supports, the sand of the desert. 
 There is a great deal in imagination ; the colour 
 is somewhat different one is a liquid, the other a 
 solid one is at rest, the other in motion ; but, 
 gentle reader, in the wild flights of the ideal, ima- 
 gination strides over worse difficulties than these. 
 A great nautical hero, and pet with the playgoing 
 public, on the eve of his execution informs a spas- 
 modic young lady with a pale face, wild, staring 
 eyes, and dishevelled hair (the usual concomitants 
 of a breaking heart), that " many a summer's day 
 aboard I've lain in the top and looked at these few 
 leaves until I saw green meadows in the salt sea, 
 and heard the bleating of the sheep." Then why 
 should not the bold lion-hunter sit on the steps of 
 Pride pier, spread his handkerchief on his knees, 
 demolish the contents of his basin, and see the 
 African desert " in the salt sea," minus the sheep ? 
 However, one thing is certain the ladies regarded 
 him as something particularly interesting the 
 very food that he ate was worthy of remark. Such 
 an example being set, in the rage for emulating 
 the out-of-the-way and ridiculous, I much won- 
 dered at it not being more generally adopted, as I
 
 176 PRIDE. 
 
 expected to find Pride pier turned into a monster 
 cook's-shop, bearing at its head the very apropos 
 sign of " Eestaurent de la Folie." 
 
 Should this sketch catch the eye of any mode- 
 rately good-looking curate, afflicted with the dire 
 and common complaint of poverty, and should he 
 be willing to swallow the matrimonial pill, he may in 
 Pride find an effectual and speedy cure. Hitherto 
 its effects may be guaranteed on high authority ; 
 the church at which he officiates will become the 
 favoured resort for the time being, of all the young 
 unmarried and disengaged ladies. In their atten- 
 tions he will find them equal, if not superior, to the 
 community of another district I am acquainted 
 with, where the descendants of Eve presented their 
 pastor with a dozen shirts of the finest fabric (not 
 that I believe he was short of linen at the time, 
 though many curates are, with shame be it written,) 
 each shirt bearing his name, beautifully wrought, 
 with the raven chesnut or Madonna hairs abstracted 
 from their pretty heads. On one occasion a reverend 
 gentleman came to Pride, of the confirmed bache- 
 lor school, and being delighted with the general 
 attention of the female portion of his congregation, 
 and desirous to set any religious doubts they might 
 have at rest, he (poor innocent !) had a box fixed in 
 the lobby to receive communications on the subject. 
 What a chance. They were all overwhelmed with
 
 PBIDE. 177 
 
 doubts not religious, but doubts he had not 
 the courage to answer. The letter-bpx was re- 
 moved, and the dear doubting creatures continued 
 to doubt in secret. If you are poor, the case may 
 be different : you might be inclined to solve the 
 doubts of one of their number, as others have done, 
 by propounding the desperate query which has 
 proved the turning point of joy or sorrow to us 
 and our forefathers since the days of Adam. 
 
 I shall conclude this sketch with an anecdote, 
 proving that not only are the coaches here to be re- 
 spected as the last remaining type of a vehicle, ren- 
 dered dear to us by how many a familiar tale of our 
 fathers and our grandfathers, but that the coachmen 
 also retain some portion of the hereditary mantle 
 of wit, ascribed to the jolly old fellows forming that 
 class in days gone by. Mr. P , a gentle- 
 man, and a very prou'd one in his way, kept a 
 donkey chaise, with just room for " one inside," 
 and all hours of the day he was to be seen walking 
 by its side, as it slowly and surely conveyed his 
 spouse for her airings. They were passing up a 
 narrow road leading out of Pride, when, to the 
 horror of the lady and the anger of her lord, a four- 
 horse coach brought them to a stand. Mr. P 
 
 insisted on the coachman driving into the hedge, 
 at the risk of the passengers' necks, and that indi- 
 vidual suggested the donkey chaise should return.
 
 178 PBIDB. 
 
 Argument on both sides being useless, the coach- 
 man gave his horses the whip, and the coach passed 
 
 on at the imminent risk of Mrs. P and the 
 
 donkey, as it was, breaking her parasol and fright- 
 ening her out of her wits. It would be difficult to 
 describe the rage of the pompous Mr. P , who in- 
 sisted on the coachman's descending from his exalted 
 position and offering an ample apology for the insult. 
 The coachman not seeing the necessity for such a 
 course, and knowing the old man's peculiarities, 
 rose from his box and thus addressed his passen- 
 gers " Ladies and gentlemen, I appeals to you 
 if it's the sort of thing, in a civilized country, for 
 a gent who is a-driving a four-in-hand to demean 
 himself by descending from his box to apologize to 
 another gent who is only a donkey driver." " Ha ! 
 ha ! ha !" roared the passengers crack sounded 
 the whip, and " d n his impudence," shouted 
 the discomfited Mr. P
 
 179 
 
 THE JOLLY GOOD FELLOW. 
 
 *' How like a younker, or a prodigal, 
 
 The scarfed bark puts from her native bay 
 Hugged and embraced by the strumpet wind ! 
 How like the prodigal doth she return, 
 With over-weather'd ribs, and niggard 
 Lean, rent, and beggar'd." 
 
 SHAKESPEABI. 
 
 ' Pain may be said to follow pleasure as its shadow." 
 
 COLTON. 
 
 " BKOTHEB BUFFS I rise on this here most 
 momentous occasion to propose the health of a 
 Jolly Good Fellow ! When I says a Jolly Good 
 Fellow, I don't think many of you had need to be 
 told I alludes to our noble Primo of the most 
 Royal Order of Antediluvian Buffaloes, who sits as 
 our chairman (cheers) and who has kept the 
 game alive with all harmony and good feeling on 
 this occasion, when we have met together to cele- 
 brate the annual dinner of our most ancient, 
 glorious and noble order! (loud cheers, with a 
 pewter pot and tumbler accompaniment.) And 
 here's a hand which afore it would refuse him a 
 five-pun' note, when it had one to share, would cut 
 i 2
 
 180 MEMOIRS OP A 
 
 off itself from my body, just as soon as it would 
 knock down a bul-lock with one blow ! (vehe- 
 ment cheering.) I need say no more but to call 
 upon you as gents and thorough-tried Buffs, to do 
 justice to the toast, accompanying it with the 
 usual honours up-standing, all on you !" Now, 
 when it is understood that the Buffaloes had been 
 doing nothing else but draining bumpers for seven 
 hours, it is a conclusion which I should think may 
 easily be arrived at, that to " up^stand " was not 
 so easy of accomplishment as might at first appear. 
 It was some time, therefore, before the company 
 stood on their legs, and with stupid expression- 
 less grins, and beery, bloated faces, awaited the 
 signal to explode. It came at length, and as is 
 usual on such occasions, it was responded to with 
 a roar resembling the sudden explosion of a sup- 
 pressed volcano, without a dozen of the boisterous 
 revellers clearly understanding for what purpose 
 they had been induced to make so much noise. 
 Upon a slight cessation for the purpose of taking 
 breath, and giving time for the neighbours in the 
 adjoining houses to hear themselves curse, "a 
 little one in for Mrs. Thompson and the little 
 Thompsons," was suggested by Mr. Drinkwell, 
 the master butcher, the same person wl.o had pre- 
 viously spoken, as may be inferred from the touch- 
 ing and elegant bullock simile, who likewise
 
 JOLLY GOOD FELLOW. 181 
 
 rejoiced in the distinction of being a " Kangaroo," 
 a particular species of official attached to the 
 Buffalo order. His last request was responded to 
 by another outburst, and then the noble members 
 resumed their seats, and a call for the chair was 
 raised, when not the chair, but the chairman was 
 seen to rise from his seat, his face and figure 
 looming through the oppressive tobacco and gin 
 and fog atmosphere ; whilst he is perpetrating 
 the usual " hem-s" and " ha-s," let us turn for a 
 moment, gentle reader, to gossip over the society 
 into which I have so abruptly introduced you. 
 I think I hear you inquire " but who the deuce 
 are the Buffaloes ?" All I can say is, they are 
 not quadrupeds but bipeds, belonging to a society 
 well known through the northern part of England, 
 denominated " The Antediluvian Buffaloes," who 
 meet every Sunday evening on an entirely ex- 
 ckisive principle, for the purpose of smoking 
 " weed " and drinking " gatter." You will under- 
 stand these are strictly classical names, insisted on 
 by the rules of the society to signify tobacco and 
 beer. 
 
 The order, I believe, in its records, dates its 
 origin from the earliest period of Christianity, and 
 further affirms William the Conqueror was en- 
 rolled a member, but as history fails to tell us 
 that the great Norman warrior was addicted to
 
 182 MEMOIES OP A 
 
 " long clays " and " heavy wet " whilst meditating 
 on the invasion of England, and further, as the 
 said luxuries were not known for some centuries 
 after, we are compelled to doubt the truth of the 
 assertion. The place of meeting on the present 
 occasion was the large room of the " Eose and 
 Crown," a favourite place of resort for the smoke- 
 pipe, gossipping part of the male community of 
 Guzzleton, a county town in the north of 
 England. 
 
 Having explained thus far, we will return to the 
 individual commonly known as Bob Thompson, 
 whom we so unceremoniously left " standing on 
 his legs," and introduce him with due form. 
 
 Amongst his associates he was generally spoken 
 of as " The Jolly Good Fellow." His father, by 
 dint of honest industry and strict integrity, had 
 risen from the humble calling of a bricklayer's 
 labourer to that of a respectable master builder ; 
 but as is too often the case, when years of unre- 
 mitting toil and care gain for its victim compara- 
 tive independence, and comfort, the die is cast, the 
 ordination is sent forth, and he is shifted from off 
 the stage, where he has so faithfully played his 
 part, leaving to others the enjoyment resulting 
 from his anxiety and labour. Thus was it with 
 him ; and at five-and-twenty Kobert Thompson 
 found himself the proud possessor of what though
 
 JOLLY GOOD FELLOW. 183 
 
 to the " silver-spooned" part of creation might 
 be accounted a trifle to a man of humbler preten- 
 sions was a considerable sum, sufficient to have 
 enabled him, in the ten years transpiring since his 
 father's death, had he possessed only a reasonable 
 amount of common sense and assiduity, to have 
 accounted himself in a" substantially respectable 
 and even wealthy position. But he had yet to 
 learn the truth of Colton's moral precept, " The 
 seeds of repentance are sown in youth by pleasure, 
 but the harvest is reaped in age by pain," a truth 
 how dearly purchased we have opportunities of 
 learning every hour of our life. The honest, 
 humble -hearted old man, just previous to his death, 
 called his son to his bedside, and thus addressed 
 him " Robert, thy father was turned upon the 
 streets an orphan, without a single friend in the 
 wide world, but with a hopeful heart, which bore 
 him up many a time when food was scarce and 
 he felt himsel a stumbling from the path of Christ. 
 It were my hope now that I were comfortable like, 
 to enjoy the bit o' money I ha' scraped together 
 but the will o' the Almighty be done. Thee as 
 the privilege given thee, lad, which I am denied ; 
 and now listen to my last words : Make others 
 respect thee by laming to respect thyself. Be 
 honest and just in all thy dealings, and faithfully 
 fulfil thy stewardship. Do this, or thy old father's
 
 184 MEMOIRS OP A 
 
 bones will ne'er lay quiet in his grave, but in the 
 days of thy sorrow and thy shame his spirit shall 
 be thy accuser." The old man's fears proved only 
 too true, for in the chair of honour at the 
 ale-house, and in the drunken orgies of its fre- 
 quenters, his son found his only ambition, whilst 
 the trust of his stewardship was wasted in the 
 stomachs of his selfish, sottish, and treacherous 
 companions. Now, as he stood and gazed around 
 with bloated face and eyes, in which drunkenness, 
 pride, and misguided good-nature commingled 
 whilst the cheers of the half-stupid crew surround- 
 ing him still rang in his ears, Napoleon himself, 
 when for the first time he felt the golden badge of 
 sovereignty, could not, in gratified ambition, have 
 experienced a stronger pleasure. The speech in 
 which he returned thanks consisted of the usual 
 amount of nonsense, tautology, and fulsome un- 
 meaning flattery. Of course " the honour was 
 little expected," although the present acknowledg- 
 ment had been the theme of consideration for the 
 last six mouths ; and as the reader will be perfectly 
 well aware, it was " the proudest moment of his 
 life." We need, therefore, only repeat the con- 
 cluding part, which ran somewhat thus " I will 
 only say, I hope the harmony of this evening may 
 continue until we are all in as jolly a state as the 
 jolliest heart could wish : an.l again let me thank
 
 JOLLY GOOD FELLOW. 185 
 
 you, gents all, and brother Buffs, for the kind and 
 feeling manner in which you have drunk my ivife 
 and my little ones. Ah ! them's a sacred trust, 
 gentlemen. (" Hear, hear," from Mr. Stubbs, a 
 journeyman tailor with ten). A very sacred trust, 
 gents. My friend Mr. Stubbs says hear ! hear ! 
 aud he feels like a father. I shall tell my wife of 
 the great honour you have done her and her chil- 
 dren, that she may share with me in the pride and 
 satisfaction I feel on this most momentous occa- 
 sion. (Cheers.) Gents, I drinks to you all. I 
 hope you will all live long to enjoy the harmony 
 and brotherly love of the Antediluvian Buffaloes, 
 and may we stand up like men when our country 
 calls upon us, and never disgrace 
 
 " The flag that's braved a thousand years 
 The battle and the breeze" 
 
 which last sentiment was received with loud and 
 long-continued cheering. The harmony of the 
 evening was now continued by Mr. Pottle, a light- 
 haired young man, rejoicing in the occupation 
 of barber's assistant, who sang with great gusto 
 that plaintive and antiquated ballad of " The 
 Soldier's Tear," commencing 
 
 " Upon the hill he turned," &c. 
 
 which was melodized by the aspiring hair-dresser
 
 186 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 to the tune of ' With a helmet on his brow," &c., 
 concluding each verse with a general chorus of 
 
 " And he dropp'd a tear my boys, 
 And he dropp'd a tear my boys, 
 And the soldier leant upon his sword, 
 And he dropp'd a tear my boys !" 
 
 This being totally at variance with the correct 
 version was correspondingly well received by his intel' 
 lectual audience. After him came Mr. Snipyard, 
 a journeyman tailor, the comic singer of the 
 company, who dolled out a never-ending song, 
 about " A slap-up four-and-nine," in the most 
 melancholy manner imaginable, fancying him- 
 self extremely funny, but whose great achieve- 
 ment was the " Theatrical Barber," in which he 
 was supposed to imitate many great actors, but 
 the difference between each rested entirely in his 
 own imagination, his auditors too often falling 
 into the error of mistaking Macready for Buck- 
 stone, and Paul Bedford for Mr. C. Kean. At 
 length, the company generally being too drunk to 
 furnish the landlord with any more profit, were in- 
 formed by that individual " he was sorry to disturb 
 them, but it was getting late, and they mun go." 
 The breaking up led to three times repeated part- 
 ing cups, when the Antediluvian Buffaloes, Kan- 
 garoos and all, betook themselves as they were
 
 JOLLY GOOD FELLOW. 187 
 
 best able to their homes, the street gutters, or the 
 station-house. As for Bob Thompson, he, accom- 
 panied by Mr. Drinkwell and another friend, wended 
 his way up the street, singing " We won't go home 
 till morning," or " Smilin' morn," having deter- 
 mined " to make a night of it," (it was now only 
 three o'clock in the morning,) and from the fact of 
 their being still able to speak, it is to be inferred 
 they were not yet as "jolly" as the jolliest heart 
 could wish. 
 
 Presto ! change ! I wave the scribbler's magic 
 wand, rendering time or space immaterial, and 
 transport you to a different scene. A few streets 
 off from the " Hose and Crown " stood a moderate- 
 sized dwelling, half-shop and half-house. Not 
 wishing to enter by the front door, the visit being 
 strictly private, let us go round to the back, and 
 seeing a glimmering light through a dirty holland 
 blind, we will unceremoniously enter the room. 
 Its dimensions were small, its furniture old but 
 tolerably good, portions of children's clothing and 
 some few broken toys lay scattered about, whilst 
 the remnants of a supper stood on the table. The 
 candle had burnt down in the socket of what had 
 once been a plated candlestick, and was now sput- 
 tering into life by fits and starts, struggling to 
 maintain its existence. Strange and mysterious 
 shadows fell from its lambent beam, and wandered
 
 188 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 or glided from floor to wall, and from wall to ceil- 
 ing, and a few calcined cinders lay mouldering in 
 the grate. In the angle of the wall sat a delicate, 
 careworn woman, with hair untimely gray, whose 
 low and monotonous lulling resembled the wailing 
 of one who suffered pain, as she rocked the 
 cradle at her feet, and bore another child across 
 her knee, this was the only sound breaking 
 through the stillness and midnight gloom. One ! 
 two ! three ! strikes by the old Dutch clock in the 
 corner, when the woman paused, and lifted her 
 languid eyes to its white shining face, then with a 
 long-drawn sigh she sank back exhausted in her 
 chair. God help her ! poor soul ! for sixteen 
 long hours, ill and sick as she was, had this been 
 her task, for both her children were suffering from 
 childish malady, and for her there seemed no 
 help but to "do and suffer." 
 
 Presently her eyes were again raised to the clock, 
 and anon a scarcely discernible smile seemed to 
 light up her face. It appeared as if the rude and 
 gaudy representation of a rose had struck some 
 sweetly vibrating chord of her neglected heart, for 
 a gleam of brightness played for a moment about 
 her blue sad-looking eyes, as if memory 
 had wandered back, far back, from this narrow, 
 lonely room, to bright summer fields and gay 
 flowery hedgerows. It was so, for she murmured
 
 JOLLY GOOD FELLOW. 189 
 
 of them, and it was evident that ill-painted daub 
 upon the old Dutch clock face was to her heart 
 what a straw is to the last despairing yet hopeful 
 fingers of the drowning man. It is often so in the 
 hour of affliction and sorrow : the merest trifle may 
 cause us to forget the dreary present, and, although 
 but for a moment, give us a draught of joy, which 
 the wealth of worlds can never otherwise restore. 
 
 Her reverie was at length interrupted by the 
 arrival of her husband, Bob Thompson, accompa- 
 nied by Drinkwell and another companion. No 
 sooner were they seated than the "jolly good fel- 
 low" insisted on their " picking a bit," pointing 
 to the supper on the table, urging his request by 
 strong assurances of how heartily they were wel- 
 come. They took him at his word, and poor Mrs. 
 Thompson saw the only remnants of food, pre- 
 served for herself and children on the morrow, 
 quickly disappear. " What was she to do ?" she 
 asked herself over and over again, as mouthful 
 after mouthful was passed into her husband's 
 guests' capacious jaws. She knew too well no 
 hope was left her from him ; he had done no work 
 lately, and the shilling or two he might still have 
 would be reserved for the " Hose and Crown" on 
 the morrow, for after a night's debauch it was 
 customary to wind up on the following day. She 
 did not like to speak, for "Robert would be angry ;"
 
 190 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 so she only sighed, placed spirits and pipes (arti- 
 cles always to be found in the jolly good fellow's 
 house) before the trio, then stole silently to her 
 bed with a child in either arm. The eldest she 
 laid gently upon the pillow, whilst closer, and still 
 closer to her bursting heart she pressed her baby, 
 and into its unconscious ears she poured her sor- 
 rows. As the pillow grew damp with her tears, she 
 thought of the wreck to which she had clung. It 
 was not for herself she cared selfishness found 
 no room within her gentle heart it was for her 
 children, and the sinking vessel she had trusted 
 to, that even while she wept, was steering safely 
 and surely to the rock of destruction. Above 
 other thoughts stood prominently forward a 
 large, plain, red brick building, with all its 
 attendant horrors of separation and loneliness in 
 the midst of many cold bare-looking walls, stony- 
 hearted and meanly-pompous officials, coarse diet, 
 and still coarser livery to denote the poor pauper 
 in its wearer, and to tell the world England may 
 give, charity may extend its hand upon this soil, 
 but England likes to make its gifts known, and, 
 trumpet-tongued, proclaim its generosity, as it 
 holds up its victims to the derision and contempt, 
 too often, of the rich and the thoughtless many, or 
 their condescending pity. To this goal she felt 
 she must at last come. It was the only retreat ex-
 
 JOLLY GOOD FELLOW. 191 
 
 cept the grave remaining for her in the dreary vista 
 of future poverty and sorrow. And where was the 
 cause of all this evil ? Drinking in the room be- 
 neath, and believing himself to be, in the distorted 
 vision of his maudlin brain, the happiest as well as 
 the best of men, whilst his companions pledged 
 him at his own expense, and sang " For he's a 
 jolly good fellow," until the power both of thought 
 and speech became absorbed in the potent evan- 
 escent spirit of alcohol. 
 
 At length time, that sad betrayer of all our 
 secrets and our crimes, whispered to the inhabi- 
 tants of Guzzleton that Robert Thompson's 
 affairs were not in the most flourishing condition ; 
 he owed nothing at the "Rose and Crown," for 
 ready money was the rule there, but he owed a 
 great deal elsewhere. Bit by bit, piece by piece, 
 houses, furniture, even wearing appparel had 
 vanished, till nothing was left to raise money upon. 
 What was to be done ? He did not think so much 
 of the future of his wife and children as of his own 
 declining popularity, for now he had no money to 
 spend with his boon companions and gaslight 
 acquaintances they withdrew from his society. 
 The chair of honour in the bar was no longer 
 his special station ; his health was no longer 
 proposed and answered by enthusiastic greetings 
 as of old ; even his friend Drinkwell thought better
 
 192 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 than to cut off his hand sooner than to refuse a 
 " fiver" he kept it to button up his pockets with ; 
 further, he usurped the presidential chair at the 
 jovial meetings. Robert Thompson now experi- 
 enced what his wife and children had long felt the 
 want of the common necessaries of life ; he had 
 done so before but for the self-devotion, the patient, 
 drudging love of the woman who could so uncom- 
 plainingly suffer, eking out a bare sufficiency to 
 keep life and soul together, so that he might want 
 for nothing. 
 
 In hearing this, I beg of you to remember she 
 is only one stray leaf I have culled out of the 
 thousands of patient, trusting hearts that lie scat- 
 tered unknown and unpitied about the world, who 
 whilst you read are pursuing their lonely, toilsome 
 course, with that still, small earth-bound sepulchre 
 for their only hope of refuge, above whose heads 
 the bright green grass may wave, and modest daisy 
 blush into life, whilst the stranger tramples its 
 beauty and its freshness into dust, as theirs have 
 been, all heedless of the only memorial which na- 
 ture has planted above them. Join with me, 
 reader, in saying " God bless them ! " for if 
 heaven in its all seeing mercy reserves a place 
 for the humble, forgiving, and meek-hearted, these 
 are the women deserving such distinction, above 
 all other examples which the world can give.
 
 JOLLY GOOD FELLOW. 193 
 
 The day at length arrived which saw him 
 dragged to gaol, and not one hand was extended 
 for the "jolly good fellow's " relief. Ten pounds 
 would have averted this catastrophe, but he could 
 not raise it, and his wife, who pleaded for him, was 
 thrust from the door of the " Rose and Crown " 
 like a beggar. On the night of his capture a con- 
 vivial meeting was held there, when his misfor- 
 tunes were freely discussed without a dissentient 
 voice the landlord's opinion prevailed " They 
 all had seen for some time past how it would end. 
 Thompson was a 'jolly good fellow,' but he 
 must have been a fool to spend his money and 
 neglect his business as he had done, when he 
 had a wife and family at home to provide for." 
 What a pity this was not remembered before ! 
 Thompson thought so as he lay, for the first time 
 in his life, within the cold stone walls of a gaol, 
 on a sharp winter's night, the night of his en- 
 trance. Sadly he threw himself upon his bed : his 
 late experiences had somewhat dissipated the 
 diseased shadow of pleasure which had so long 
 filled his heart ; the fever of his imagination, un- 
 aided by stimulants, had subsided into the dread 
 certainty of reality. The last words of his poor 
 old father now rang strangely in his ears, and 
 thinking of him he fell into a painful slumber ; 
 then slowly through the darkness came the palsied
 
 194 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 figure of an aged man, clad in his grave clothes, 
 whilst from his lips issued these texts from 
 Proverbs : 
 
 " As the hird by wandering, as the swallow by 
 flying, so the curse causeless shall not come." 
 
 " As righteousness tendeth to life, so he that 
 pursueth evil pursueth it to his own death." 
 
 " The eye that mocketh at his father, and 
 despiseth to obey his mother, the ravens of the 
 valley shall pick it out, and the young eagles shall 
 eat it." 
 
 As he recognized the words so often quoted to 
 him in his childhood, the " Jolly Fellow " started 
 from his couch with the cold perspiration running 
 down his forehead ; he gazed around expecting to 
 meet his father's face, but he was alone alone in 
 darkness ! It would be useless longer to follow his 
 career. He died in prison. Mrs. Thompson en- 
 tered beneath the portals of that red brick building, 
 the goal of her imagination, and found her fears 
 but too sadly realised in the stern discomfort 
 and cold apathy of all around ; but amidst such 
 experiences she soon passed away to the " land 
 of shadows," where sorrow finds no room to enter. 
 To a grave half-tilled by human corruption, in a 
 rude misshapen box, and without mourners, all 
 that remained of her gentle spirit was hurried, and 
 there amongst her pauper kindred left to rot,
 
 JOLLY GOOD FELLOW. 195 
 
 for as in life, so must the poor of charity mingle 
 in death. The two children were in due time 
 kicked upon the world, each in his turn to earn an 
 epitaph culled from Beattie's poems : 
 
 " Check'd by the scoff of pride, by envy's frown, 
 And poverty's unconquerable bar, 
 In life's low vale remote he pined alone, 
 Then dropt into the grave, unpitied and unknown !" 
 
 Such was the end of a " Jolly Good Fellow's" 
 career, such the fate to which he doomed his wife 
 and children : and such will be the result of the 
 follies pursued hy a thousand others like him, 
 who, seeking to he "Jolly Good Fellows" in the 
 mouths of the worthless, pursue a shadow which 
 despoils them of the substance.
 
 196 
 
 THE MISER'S DEATH. 
 
 Dying acursed behold ! the miser lay 
 Night's deepest shadows hath obscur'd the day, 
 And phantoms wild and strange flit thro' the air, 
 Or haunt the walls, or on the miser stare. 
 The moon's pale light scarce penetrates the scene, 
 Whilst sordid misery hut mocks HEE beam ; 
 Upon a couch outstretched, of dirty straw, 
 'Mid filth and rags offensive, on the floor 
 The wretch is laid ; no fire to cheer the room ; 
 His glaring eye-balls start from out the gloom ; 
 And ever and anon is heard the groan 
 Of one so dying, suffering and lone. 
 But see ! He starts, and wildly stretching out 
 His shrivell'd hands, he utters shout on shout 
 "My gold! my gold ! Bobbers ! begone, forbear!" 
 Ajid mocking echoes fill the stagnant air. 
 As fiends or ghosts might add their yelling 
 From each crevice of the lonely dwelling ! 
 A death-like silence follows the shrill cry,
 
 THE MISER'S DEATH. 197 
 
 When, lo ! a whining howl is heard close by. 
 
 A half-starved dog leaps trembling on the bed, 
 
 O'er whose rough nature love, withal, had shed 
 
 The fondest throbbings of a faithful heart, 
 
 For HE it was that made the miser start 
 
 Had lick'd his hand as he lay lost in thought, 
 
 Mourning the gold his avarice brought ; 
 
 And fearing that dread hour when his dim sight 
 
 Would on it close in everlasting night. 
 
 He smooth'd the ONLY friend the world had left, 
 
 And half the gloom was by that dog bereft, 
 
 For in such hours of trembling and of pain, 
 
 Man will be man, despite of all, again 
 
 Some touch of human feeling, past control, 
 
 Will vibrate softly o'er the hardened soul. 
 
 Together they had liv'd, and dog and man 
 
 Shar'd as by instinct, each the other's ban, 
 
 As cowering with fear, together laid, 
 
 They trembled at the sounds themselves had made. 
 
 So hours pass ! when the miser starts again 
 
 A fearful vision harrows up his brain : 
 
 Wildly he raves he sees a fleshless form 
 
 (As from the grave, the long-decay'd were torn) 
 
 Stand close beside him there ; eyes it had not, 
 
 Yet still it gaz'd from where the eyes should rot 
 
 The vacant sockets but the teeth remain'd 
 
 To grin in triumph at the prize new gain'd. 
 
 A loathsome smell pervades, as of the mould,
 
 198 THE MISER'S DEATH. 
 
 When the wretch feels a hand, clammy and cold, 
 
 Slowly but surely creeping to his heart, 
 
 And numhing his flesh to the vital part. 
 
 With one despairing effort he doth rise, 
 
 To clasp his gold with a death-gripe he tries ; 
 
 But ere accomplish'd his lost soul hath fled, 
 
 And back he falls upon his pallet dead ! 
 
 PAWSOK AND BIUILSFOnfi, PRINTERS, HTr.H STREET, SHEFFIELD.
 
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